"obscenely" poems - Hello Poetry

the higher you climb the greater the pressure. those who manage to endure learn that the distance between the top and the bottom is obscenely great. and those who succeed know this secret: there isn't one.

0

18.6k

Charles Bukowski

almost competition

the higher you climb the greater the pressure. those who manage to endure learn that the distance between the top and the bottom is obscenely great. and those who succeed know this secret: there isn't one.

18

Silver-sided thursday Late morning, not quite Afternoon The steady scent of spring's flowers, dutifully Blossoming Obscenely in the cold The cold wet around my ankles Dragged up from the ground Frail next to the bark of Tuesday's tree Stark brick building My mother's morning tea The shadow of a crucifix Blocking the sun from my Chameleon eyes The time between texts A deep inhale and a harsh white in knuckles Replacing the rosy pink of Moments ago Yes, but Well... Another mile won't make me Stronger When I already emptied My pockets for you... And how my small change made you smile! Remembering, My smile Opening me up Like an old wound The crows are at my throat

0

Nov 14, 2012

Nov 14, 2012 at 9:31 PM UTC

olympia

Untitled V

Silver-sided thursday Late morning, not quite Afternoon The steady scent of spring's flowers, dutifully Blossoming Obscenely in the cold The cold wet around my ankles Dragged up from the ground Frail next to the bark of Tuesday's tree Stark brick building My mother's morning tea The shadow of a crucifix Blocking the sun from my Chameleon eyes The time between texts A deep inhale and a harsh white in knuckles Replacing the rosy pink of Moments ago Yes, but Well... Another mile won't make me Stronger When I already emptied My pockets for you... And how my small change made you smile! Remembering, My smile Opening me up Like an old wound The crows are at my throat

31

Yeah, we have a great relationship. But imagine how much better this would be if I actually loved you back? But oops, that's right. I forgot to tell you that I'm kind of incapable of loving another human being. But it's okay, it's not like love is real anyways. And even though a good percentage of the general population have the same opinion as me, I'm labeled by those around me as a cynical, lonely, pessimistic girl, simply because others can't seem to comprehend that everything I say is derived from my own personal perspective and observations that I've made. What was it that the naively optimistic, overly positive young man from the book store called me? Oh yes, an "unjustifiably, unnecessarily negative teen who is disappointed with her life because she has yet to 'experience love.'" Despite his ignorance and obscenely immature mindset, which evidently accounted for his matching personality, I don't think he realized that my lack of belief in the existence of "true love" was the exactly the reason that I was in the book store. Because, as I came to realize, it appears that the only form of "love" that I seem to recognize as being adequate enough to somewhat believe in are those spoken of and created in novels. It's formulated by the birth of a ridiculously intense, love fueled storyline, supported by a mindful choice of cohesive, dramatic, and emotional words. Hence, fictional love is born, except to most it doesn't seem fictional because it's so breathtaking to read about. They believe in it, they worship it. As if it actually exists in an alternate universe. The unrealistic perfection of it gives them a disgusting, false hope which just drives them to cling to it more. It's a drug to them, they can't live without the hope that such a "love" exists somewhere in the world; they need it. And the sad part is, they're completely oblivious to the fact that they have just become addicts, that they just sold their soul and relinquished part of their freedom to a fictitious concept. It's so fake, it's almost real.

0

Sep 16, 2015

Sep 16, 2015 at 4:10 AM UTC

bleak-melancholia

True Love Isn't Real (Don't read books about love stories)

Yeah, we have a great relationship. But imagine how much better this would be if I actually loved you back? But oops, that's right. I forgot to tell you that I'm kind of incapable of loving another human being. But it's okay, it's not like love is real anyways. And even though a good percentage of the general population have the same opinion as me, I'm labeled by those around me as a cynical, lonely, pessimistic girl, simply because others can't seem to comprehend that everything I say is derived from my own personal perspective and observations that I've made. What was it that the naively optimistic, overly positive young man from the book store called me? Oh yes, an "unjustifiably, unnecessarily negative teen who is disappointed with her life because she has yet to 'experience love.'" Despite his ignorance and obscenely immature mindset, which evidently accounted for his matching personality, I don't think he realized that my lack of belief in the existence of "true love" was the exactly the reason that I was in the book store. Because, as I came to realize, it appears that the only form of "love" that I seem to recognize as being adequate enough to somewhat believe in are those spoken of and created in novels. It's formulated by the birth of a ridiculously intense, love fueled storyline, supported by a mindful choice of cohesive, dramatic, and emotional words. Hence, fictional love is born, except to most it doesn't seem fictional because it's so breathtaking to read about. They believe in it, they worship it. As if it actually exists in an alternate universe. The unrealistic perfection of it gives them a disgusting, false hope which just drives them to cling to it more. It's a drug to them, they can't live without the hope that such a "love" exists somewhere in the world; they need it. And the sad part is, they're completely oblivious to the fact that they have just become addicts, that they just sold their soul and relinquished part of their freedom to a fictitious concept. It's so fake, it's almost real.

16

In Hornsey N8 resting. From somewhere a rising crescendo 'Ohhh, My God, yes. That's so fuckin' good!' On the walkway the plasticised soles of black pumps slap the pavement obscenely, I think. But ... Hang on! I hold slowing And look up. *From a cherry tree an exquisite pink blossom releases herself gliding closer & closer*.

0

Oct 4, 2017

Oct 4, 2017 at 1:45 PM UTC

ashleyq5

Hornsey Blossom

In Hornsey N8 resting. From somewhere a rising crescendo 'Ohhh, My God, yes. That's so fuckin' good!' On the walkway the plasticised soles of black pumps slap the pavement obscenely, I think. But ... Hang on! I hold slowing And look up. *From a cherry tree an exquisite pink blossom releases herself gliding closer & closer*.

27

NOT ALL POETRY SHOULD BE ABOUT DEPRESSION, LOVE, WIND AND TEA-CUPS - I PREFER TO BE THE DONALD TRUMP OF THE POETRY WORLD: SEEMINGLY ILLITERATE, OBSCENELY DISSOLUTE, UNINFORMED, SOCIOPATHICAL AND FALSELY MAGICAL; SOMEONE SAID THAT, 'WE HAVE A DUTY TO IMPART KNOWLEDGE,' I DID NOT ENTIRELY AGREE, NOT ALL OF US ARE SUITABLY QUALIFIED AND THOSE WHO ARE NOT MAY PASS ON THEIR OWN MISTAKES; A TEACHER MISSPELT THE WORD 'BOLLOCKS,' AND NOW HALF THE TOWN IS WRITING THE WORD BOLLUCKS INCORRECTLY; THOSE WHO CAN, DO AND THOSE WHO CAN NOT, JOIN THE RADIO -LIKE CERTAIN PRESENTERS, IT RINGS, WHO SEEM TO HAVE KNOWLEDGE OF ALL THINGS.

0

Mar 31, 2016

Mar 31, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC

terry-reeves

OUTRAGEOUS

NOT ALL POETRY SHOULD BE ABOUT DEPRESSION, LOVE, WIND AND TEA-CUPS - I PREFER TO BE THE DONALD TRUMP OF THE POETRY WORLD: SEEMINGLY ILLITERATE, OBSCENELY DISSOLUTE, UNINFORMED, SOCIOPATHICAL AND FALSELY MAGICAL; SOMEONE SAID THAT, 'WE HAVE A DUTY TO IMPART KNOWLEDGE,' I DID NOT ENTIRELY AGREE, NOT ALL OF US ARE SUITABLY QUALIFIED AND THOSE WHO ARE NOT MAY PASS ON THEIR OWN MISTAKES; A TEACHER MISSPELT THE WORD 'BOLLOCKS,' AND NOW HALF THE TOWN IS WRITING THE WORD BOLLUCKS INCORRECTLY; THOSE WHO CAN, DO AND THOSE WHO CAN NOT, JOIN THE RADIO -LIKE CERTAIN PRESENTERS, IT RINGS, WHO SEEM TO HAVE KNOWLEDGE OF ALL THINGS.

14

Last night I dreamt You called me "gorgeous," "Gorgeous?" I said, "that's not my name," I said, As my cherry red tongue dropped my lollipop Straight on the ground, ***** red sugar slivers gorging on my Blood vessels pumping into my heart - A big metal spoon banging on a cast iron skillet. Skillful, you are with your Cinnamon heart smile Burning my taste buds and Hugging my curves with every - Gorgeous. I dreamt of you Running your finger like a wet paintbrush on my Obscenely white canvas Soaking up my stereotypically common insecurities and Gently placing them in your pocket, "I'll take those, gorgeous," And then you color me with purples and reds, Red, Like Red Delicious waiting For the bite, like my neck, Waits for your teeth, maybe I'll just wake up and keep dreaming, To see you, Fiddling with a razor in one pocket, A cloudy crystal in the other, Mediating the argument of Who gets to protect you - Who gets to lick the salt from your cheeks After backyard creeks race to your lips The space between our tongues so small, Yet it weighs on me like A sixteen hour car trip with your baby cousin, Torture. Like blue eyes shaded by glasses, Hiding behind fallen heads. I woke up just to remember That your eyes are the only shapes I draw in the dark. Begging for sleep to bring me back To watch you stare at the dirt snuggled into your Weather cracked boots Your fingers tugging at the chain that rests on your chest, Keeping my attention, On the heavy black coat I'll be wearing 'til Summer, an extra layer of skin, Keeping me from gorgeous, Let me drop it like an old tissue in the cold, Let me lose it like I've been sick for weeks on you And I'm shedding my skin like it's time to start new, There you go, Wearing your silence like a tuxedo, **** - always **** And you're breathin' fractions of facts in my ear, Seducing it's drum like a late night jazz club and It's your first time on stage, Gorgeous. Let my stomach politely introduce itself to my throat, Pleading with my temple to hold on to that bead of sweat that Reluctantly drips down, Gorgeous. Down, Like the tips of your lashes meeting my bellybutton, Wet lips tracing my skin with "gorgeous," In your black coffee voice, Gorgeous.

0

Mar 17, 2015

Mar 17, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC

murphy

Gorgeous

Last night I dreamt You called me "gorgeous," "Gorgeous?" I said, "that's not my name," I said, As my cherry red tongue dropped my lollipop Straight on the ground, ***** red sugar slivers gorging on my Blood vessels pumping into my heart - A big metal spoon banging on a cast iron skillet. Skillful, you are with your Cinnamon heart smile Burning my taste buds and Hugging my curves with every - Gorgeous. I dreamt of you Running your finger like a wet paintbrush on my Obscenely white canvas Soaking up my stereotypically common insecurities and Gently placing them in your pocket, "I'll take those, gorgeous," And then you color me with purples and reds, Red, Like Red Delicious waiting For the bite, like my neck, Waits for your teeth, maybe I'll just wake up and keep dreaming, To see you, Fiddling with a razor in one pocket, A cloudy crystal in the other, Mediating the argument of Who gets to protect you - Who gets to lick the salt from your cheeks After backyard creeks race to your lips The space between our tongues so small, Yet it weighs on me like A sixteen hour car trip with your baby cousin, Torture. Like blue eyes shaded by glasses, Hiding behind fallen heads. I woke up just to remember That your eyes are the only shapes I draw in the dark. Begging for sleep to bring me back To watch you stare at the dirt snuggled into your Weather cracked boots Your fingers tugging at the chain that rests on your chest, Keeping my attention, On the heavy black coat I'll be wearing 'til Summer, an extra layer of skin, Keeping me from gorgeous, Let me drop it like an old tissue in the cold, Let me lose it like I've been sick for weeks on you And I'm shedding my skin like it's time to start new, There you go, Wearing your silence like a tuxedo, **** - always **** And you're breathin' fractions of facts in my ear, Seducing it's drum like a late night jazz club and It's your first time on stage, Gorgeous. Let my stomach politely introduce itself to my throat, Pleading with my temple to hold on to that bead of sweat that Reluctantly drips down, Gorgeous. Down, Like the tips of your lashes meeting my bellybutton, Wet lips tracing my skin with "gorgeous," In your black coffee voice, Gorgeous.

67

I live in the belly of the bully, And that bully is fat and bloated after eating too much of everyone else’s food without permission. Although he had more than enough to eat and he wasn’t really hungry, he left his island home; and sailed the seven seas to fill his sacks, and bring things back. He pretended to pay, elbowing his way into, through and around their worlds, and because they did not speak English they did not understand his slippery words (and he didn’t learn theirs). With sleight if hand and cannon he subdued then sold their souls to some obscenely wealthy aristocrats back in his island home. He pushed them into the fields to farm and when they could not lift their arms from starvation he said it was nature’s predestination, so he did not shed a tear and he did not interfere. The natural law was all he saw. That man was very fat and and he was very flawed. Sean Hunt June 12th

0

Jun 12, 2016

Jun 12, 2016 at 6:13 AM UTC

sean-hunt

The Belly Of the Bully

I live in the belly of the bully, And that bully is fat and bloated after eating too much of everyone else’s food without permission. Although he had more than enough to eat and he wasn’t really hungry, he left his island home; and sailed the seven seas to fill his sacks, and bring things back. He pretended to pay, elbowing his way into, through and around their worlds, and because they did not speak English they did not understand his slippery words (and he didn’t learn theirs). With sleight if hand and cannon he subdued then sold their souls to some obscenely wealthy aristocrats back in his island home. He pushed them into the fields to farm and when they could not lift their arms from starvation he said it was nature’s predestination, so he did not shed a tear and he did not interfere. The natural law was all he saw. That man was very fat and and he was very flawed. Sean Hunt June 12th

4

Your sunlight wakes me with a gentle glow Lifting me from the sleep below Your omnipresent blue twinkles serenely While your beauty overwhelms obscenely Each street a new promise of adventures new And distant islands known to few Your water so powerful cleanses all Sweeping under bridges so tall The mystery of your Eastern delight Keeps me with you every night Smoky, silky, rich and heady Always waiting, always ready I rely on you to lift my frown And you have never let me down Cacophany of noise, your urban voice Embodied by life and love and choice Towers on which a thousand summers have shone Here long before me and long after I've gone Five times a day you sing out your chorus Reminder I share you with each grubby tourist But underneath this ancient dome I know you are mine; my City, my home

0

Sep 8, 2010

Sep 8, 2010 at 11:29 PM UTC

lost-for-words

Asya

Your sunlight wakes me with a gentle glow Lifting me from the sleep below Your omnipresent blue twinkles serenely While your beauty overwhelms obscenely Each street a new promise of adventures new And distant islands known to few Your water so powerful cleanses all Sweeping under bridges so tall The mystery of your Eastern delight Keeps me with you every night Smoky, silky, rich and heady Always waiting, always ready I rely on you to lift my frown And you have never let me down Cacophany of noise, your urban voice Embodied by life and love and choice Towers on which a thousand summers have shone Here long before me and long after I've gone Five times a day you sing out your chorus Reminder I share you with each grubby tourist But underneath this ancient dome I know you are mine; my City, my home

22

The mirror, mirror lies Reflecting back at me All I see is powder Where could I be? Numb from the Columbian A new national war bond A roman hierarchy Bang their drums obscenely To One Right Wing God The dragon took the towers But man, it’s happen before It’s been real hard to ***** all these drugs To crush all over my mirror And hide my ugly mug When did I change? I think I know who’s behind it completely Samson’s in my blood

0

Apr 29, 2014

Apr 29, 2014 at 3:04 AM UTC

not-nick

Mirror, Mirror, Lines

The mirror, mirror lies Reflecting back at me All I see is powder Where could I be? Numb from the Columbian A new national war bond A roman hierarchy Bang their drums obscenely To One Right Wing God The dragon took the towers But man, it’s happen before It’s been real hard to ***** all these drugs To crush all over my mirror And hide my ugly mug When did I change? I think I know who’s behind it completely Samson’s in my blood

17

wolf , can you land meat ? or are busy being needlessly cruel to 'lesser' peers ? could you even take a basic stalk about the woods ? or would you be blistered breaking in those brand new pricy walking boots ? a full moon ? maybe you'd drink to excess on those nights ? maybe pick a fight or beat on your loved ones but whimper the next day ? that smart suit ? ridiculous over your fur heard you're on a trendy fad diet you fidget at your desk you fidget on your screen work is obscenely wasteful distractions are just plain obscene you are a coward to your soul soiled by domestic inactivity

0

Jul 4, 2022

Jul 4, 2022 at 1:39 PM UTC

neth-jones

cower

wolf , can you land meat ? or are busy being needlessly cruel to 'lesser' peers ? could you even take a basic stalk about the woods ? or would you be blistered breaking in those brand new pricy walking boots ? a full moon ? maybe you'd drink to excess on those nights ? maybe pick a fight or beat on your loved ones but whimper the next day ? that smart suit ? ridiculous over your fur heard you're on a trendy fad diet you fidget at your desk you fidget on your screen work is obscenely wasteful distractions are just plain obscene you are a coward to your soul soiled by domestic inactivity

19

sleep deprivation and left hand love a recipe for a night filled with self loathing no matter the matter of cigarettes i've killed on my arm i still can't feel a feeling worth feeling searching seeking self destruction *applaud and cheer the sinking ship to obscenely watch the dysfunctional waves ripple, grow, rage, against this cracked and broken shore of my mind enchanted by the beauty of the storm seductively dragging the bodies of memories and passion out to the deep blue sea to drown and drown and drown again heads held under until their souls stop screaming*

0

Jun 16, 2013

Jun 16, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC

ben-2

witch hunt

sleep deprivation and left hand love a recipe for a night filled with self loathing no matter the matter of cigarettes i've killed on my arm i still can't feel a feeling worth feeling searching seeking self destruction *applaud and cheer the sinking ship to obscenely watch the dysfunctional waves ripple, grow, rage, against this cracked and broken shore of my mind enchanted by the beauty of the storm seductively dragging the bodies of memories and passion out to the deep blue sea to drown and drown and drown again heads held under until their souls stop screaming*

14

I'm perfectly imperfect That's what they always say I'm crookedly straight But I'm far from gay I forever speak my mind Always and all day My heart is on my sleeve But guarded all the same I'm devilishly innocent My mind is not so tame I'm dishonestly truthful But never take the blame I'm completely backwards We can never be the same To me upwards is downwards The sky's my only ground Your life I can still ruin It is with in my bounds I'm depressingly happy There is no middle ground My version of earth is flat... Why should it be round? My earth is a work of art With colours everywhere Your world I broke and ripped apart Just to prove I don't fit there I tore it up in little bits I left the pieces without a care I'm completely backwards I'm such a major scare I'm nationally local You can see me all the time I can disappear into thin air Leaving you without a rhyme For I'm melodically harmonious No brighter than the dullest shine I'm incomprehensibly real And yet so hard to find Pure white to me is simple black Race is gone and can't come back I can prove all that I am A thing to which you surely lack I'm disrespectfully respectful My words are always fact I'm completely backwards I'll drive you past insane Then I'll never bring you back I'm illegally legal Like a drug that you can't sell I'm contrastingly bendable In this world of my own hell I'm resistingly irresistible My secrets you will never tell I'm obscenely lovable In this world in which I fell I landed in this twisted place A world of expectations This world I created on my own For I'm an undertone of exaggeration Here I've found my only home In a backwards world of my creation And all in all I'm here to say "I'm completely backwards In every single way"

0

Sep 10, 2009

Sep 10, 2009 at 12:49 PM UTC

skredman

I'm Completely Backwards

I'm perfectly imperfect That's what they always say I'm crookedly straight But I'm far from gay I forever speak my mind Always and all day My heart is on my sleeve But guarded all the same I'm devilishly innocent My mind is not so tame I'm dishonestly truthful But never take the blame I'm completely backwards We can never be the same To me upwards is downwards The sky's my only ground Your life I can still ruin It is with in my bounds I'm depressingly happy There is no middle ground My version of earth is flat... Why should it be round? My earth is a work of art With colours everywhere Your world I broke and ripped apart Just to prove I don't fit there I tore it up in little bits I left the pieces without a care I'm completely backwards I'm such a major scare I'm nationally local You can see me all the time I can disappear into thin air Leaving you without a rhyme For I'm melodically harmonious No brighter than the dullest shine I'm incomprehensibly real And yet so hard to find Pure white to me is simple black Race is gone and can't come back I can prove all that I am A thing to which you surely lack I'm disrespectfully respectful My words are always fact I'm completely backwards I'll drive you past insane Then I'll never bring you back I'm illegally legal Like a drug that you can't sell I'm contrastingly bendable In this world of my own hell I'm resistingly irresistible My secrets you will never tell I'm obscenely lovable In this world in which I fell I landed in this twisted place A world of expectations This world I created on my own For I'm an undertone of exaggeration Here I've found my only home In a backwards world of my creation And all in all I'm here to say "I'm completely backwards In every single way"

64

let's go back, you an me dance with me, i'll twirl with the dust mop and you'll laugh and pick dust out of my hair and say i'll never be old let's go back, you an me record me stealthily when i sing obscenely-loud songs in the shower and play them over and over and over as i blush different shades of fire let's go back, you an me tickle me while i'm tryin' to play hopscotch as i beg for mercy between gasps and giggles and threaten to wet my pants let's go back, you an me take me for never-ending piggy back rides, pretendin' i'm flyin' then dump me on the dewy grass, make me laugh because you're laughing let's go back, you an me i'll push you in the fountain and you'll grin and pull me in with you, we'll float on our backs ignorin' the stares and watch night fall in little pieces, here and here except for in your eyes, which blind me let's go back, you an me paint sloppy, clumsy kisses on my cheeks and make stupid looking necklaces out of sparkly plastic beads you know ill never wear let's go back, you an me whisper in my ear forever so that now i can hear you in my head and smile smiles that don't reach my eyes and dance with the dust mop pretendin' that it's you

0

Aug 3, 2010

Aug 3, 2010 at 3:20 PM UTC

Emma-Liang

dust mop dancin'

let's go back, you an me dance with me, i'll twirl with the dust mop and you'll laugh and pick dust out of my hair and say i'll never be old let's go back, you an me record me stealthily when i sing obscenely-loud songs in the shower and play them over and over and over as i blush different shades of fire let's go back, you an me tickle me while i'm tryin' to play hopscotch as i beg for mercy between gasps and giggles and threaten to wet my pants let's go back, you an me take me for never-ending piggy back rides, pretendin' i'm flyin' then dump me on the dewy grass, make me laugh because you're laughing let's go back, you an me i'll push you in the fountain and you'll grin and pull me in with you, we'll float on our backs ignorin' the stares and watch night fall in little pieces, here and here except for in your eyes, which blind me let's go back, you an me paint sloppy, clumsy kisses on my cheeks and make stupid looking necklaces out of sparkly plastic beads you know ill never wear let's go back, you an me whisper in my ear forever so that now i can hear you in my head and smile smiles that don't reach my eyes and dance with the dust mop pretendin' that it's you

26

Solitary man Always in good company Of wonderful women And Gainsbourgian groove C’est bon chic bon genre And rudimental rock at the same time Crude cool Love’s fool Passion and percussion Lust and lavish beats Charming chansons And seductive songs Melody’s magnetic melodies Du Jane B & Initials BB A celebration of beauty Monsieur Gainsbourg T’es magnifique Authentique Flegmatique Channeling what it means To be obscenely genial Fericiously cordial What it means to live life As If there’s only one day left Toujours Monsieur Gainsbourg

0

May 31, 2016

May 31, 2016 at 5:27 AM UTC

oscar-mann

Gainsbourg

Solitary man Always in good company Of wonderful women And Gainsbourgian groove C’est bon chic bon genre And rudimental rock at the same time Crude cool Love’s fool Passion and percussion Lust and lavish beats Charming chansons And seductive songs Melody’s magnetic melodies Du Jane B & Initials BB A celebration of beauty Monsieur Gainsbourg T’es magnifique Authentique Flegmatique Channeling what it means To be obscenely genial Fericiously cordial What it means to live life As If there’s only one day left Toujours Monsieur Gainsbourg

26

# ***'You said, "Someday I'm gonna break your heart", the first time that we met-- Were you warning me.. ..or just seeing how close I'd get?'*** *If you didn't want to exist in the heart of a man like me, then you shouldn't have allowed your scrapper little spirit to write the way you do. And I was so naughty-- so very intentioned in all of my obscenely-truthful lies.. I told you it was all your fault that you got in so quickly* --and it was. *I got you back, though I knew it the moment you let on that you had fallen deeply in love.. not with me.. but with the love that had so deeply fallen for every-thing about you And so, it increased.. but at such a strange distance. But even then, the years only perfected and strengthened.. until lately.. until lately..* ***'We lay down in a lover's sigh As a million years of time rolled by How can I be hoping that it's not over yet?'*** I wasn't done, young Andi.. no.. no.. far from it You see.. there's this shame-thing I wanted to flood with light. I'm getting so close to finding the words that have never been heard in this world before (And now.. and now.. and now..) ***'I can't hold on to the night Things change, ain't nothin' ever stays the same You're gone as far as I can see If you feel like letting go Honey, I don't wanna be the last to know ( I wanna hold on tight to the sweet memory of you loving me)'*** #

0

May 7, 2023

May 7, 2023 at 8:31 PM UTC

f-elliott

Raggedy Andi

# ***'You said, "Someday I'm gonna break your heart", the first time that we met-- Were you warning me.. ..or just seeing how close I'd get?'*** *If you didn't want to exist in the heart of a man like me, then you shouldn't have allowed your scrapper little spirit to write the way you do. And I was so naughty-- so very intentioned in all of my obscenely-truthful lies.. I told you it was all your fault that you got in so quickly* --and it was. *I got you back, though I knew it the moment you let on that you had fallen deeply in love.. not with me.. but with the love that had so deeply fallen for every-thing about you And so, it increased.. but at such a strange distance. But even then, the years only perfected and strengthened.. until lately.. until lately..* ***'We lay down in a lover's sigh As a million years of time rolled by How can I be hoping that it's not over yet?'*** I wasn't done, young Andi.. no.. no.. far from it You see.. there's this shame-thing I wanted to flood with light. I'm getting so close to finding the words that have never been heard in this world before (And now.. and now.. and now..) ***'I can't hold on to the night Things change, ain't nothin' ever stays the same You're gone as far as I can see If you feel like letting go Honey, I don't wanna be the last to know ( I wanna hold on tight to the sweet memory of you loving me)'*** #

44

bittering every sweet thusly shifting arrogant flavor seems to make all the tears a dusty eruption over tongues not built to ever know such obscenely beautiful oral

0

Apr 12, 2010

Apr 12, 2010 at 9:47 AM UTC

patrick-wakefield-1

mouth

bittering every sweet thusly shifting arrogant flavor seems to make all the tears a dusty eruption over tongues not built to ever know such obscenely beautiful oral

6

I get roped in, I get caught every time. The smell of bait is always attracting like a word’s next rhyme. And I can’t seem to get out of this trap I find myself in so often, All I need is a glance, a smile, a touch, and I find myself in this coffin. You see, I write about these things so routinely. It takes up all my emotion, And my thoughts are formed obscenely. I am either running From the things I dream at night Or dwelling in my sleep Until I can't stand my waking self. My character seems to hang by a thread’s might, And I now see it lacks in wealth.

0

Sep 4, 2018

Sep 4, 2018 at 12:56 PM UTC

ThumbRings

The Trapper of Men

I get roped in, I get caught every time. The smell of bait is always attracting like a word’s next rhyme. And I can’t seem to get out of this trap I find myself in so often, All I need is a glance, a smile, a touch, and I find myself in this coffin. You see, I write about these things so routinely. It takes up all my emotion, And my thoughts are formed obscenely. I am either running From the things I dream at night Or dwelling in my sleep Until I can't stand my waking self. My character seems to hang by a thread’s might, And I now see it lacks in wealth.

14

America **** your McDonald's drive-thrus **** your ninety-nine cent ******** hamburger, taco, pizza, salad, milkshake, hotdog, cheese, chicken and ice cream. **** your ever-penetrating, all-enveloping television stare -looking into every home and obscenely tucking children into bed with your poisonous, dangerous nonsense **** your deadly highways and metal death machines **** your educational system which affords no opportunity and disgraces the intelligent by basing self-worth on imaginary symbols **** your restriction of information and for appointing one man to represent anybody but himself **** you for breeding such similar beings **** your twisted hatred of change & for arresting children while cadavers dry-hump the so-called american dream **** you for losing your own soul & destroying us daily **** you for putting faces on beauty and giving such loud voices to hypnotic fantasy **** your favorite sons and daughters **** you for the wars which can never be won **** you for advertising Jack Daniels on the freeway **** you for a pack of cigarettes - seven dollars and fifty cents **** you for making my **** hard **** you for not looking at the stars every night **** you because I am poisoned by paper **** you for the starvation of spirit & pills handed out to numb the broken minds you've made & the shattered ones you avoid **** you for the homeless prophets **** your speech decree & for rubbing freedom in the faces of the dying **** your holy stars & stripes **** your hushed genocide and & torture **** your phantom masses and empty religions **** you for providing no wholesome evenings in my rotten town **** your signposts and support beams You are but a word

0

Jan 26, 2011

Jan 26, 2011 at 11:36 AM UTC

jmartinez

On America (an explicit outrage regarding angst and the death of being)

America **** your McDonald's drive-thrus **** your ninety-nine cent ******** hamburger, taco, pizza, salad, milkshake, hotdog, cheese, chicken and ice cream. **** your ever-penetrating, all-enveloping television stare -looking into every home and obscenely tucking children into bed with your poisonous, dangerous nonsense **** your deadly highways and metal death machines **** your educational system which affords no opportunity and disgraces the intelligent by basing self-worth on imaginary symbols **** your restriction of information and for appointing one man to represent anybody but himself **** you for breeding such similar beings **** your twisted hatred of change & for arresting children while cadavers dry-hump the so-called american dream **** you for losing your own soul & destroying us daily **** you for putting faces on beauty and giving such loud voices to hypnotic fantasy **** your favorite sons and daughters **** you for the wars which can never be won **** you for advertising Jack Daniels on the freeway **** you for a pack of cigarettes - seven dollars and fifty cents **** you for making my **** hard **** you for not looking at the stars every night **** you because I am poisoned by paper **** you for the starvation of spirit & pills handed out to numb the broken minds you've made & the shattered ones you avoid **** you for the homeless prophets **** your speech decree & for rubbing freedom in the faces of the dying **** your holy stars & stripes **** your hushed genocide and & torture **** your phantom masses and empty religions **** you for providing no wholesome evenings in my rotten town **** your signposts and support beams You are but a word

28

- Haiku Sequence (For Mr.N. Of O' S) Empty field except clouds grazing at its centre somewhere far off...sheep. * Empty field except for the colours green...blue & white creating a scene. * Empty field except for the silence being shattered by the big dog’s bark * Empty field except invisible voices call “Where are you..? ” “I’...lost! ” * Empty field except for an oversized unseen big green frog: “...ribbit! ” * Empty field except for a cow exiting now the scene by a tail * Empty field except for a cow now entering the scene by a nose * Empty field except for the well concealed couple making out in hedge * Empty field just waiting for us to come in to keep it in mind * Empty field full now with clouds, a sheep’s bleat, laughter & two lowing cows * Empty field full to the brim with such memories colouring it in. * Field empty now because we have left...does it still exist...now we’ve gone? * Clouds migrate from field to field occasionally getting caught on top of people’s heads in photos or trapped in a mesh of trees. * DEER PARK Mountain empty of people but somewhere...invisible voices Buddha’s rays penetrate dense forest greener again...illumination of lichen. * DEAR PARK Tourist mountain people & their litter everywhere to be seen...obscenely obese. Old poem in my hand penetrates my mind its words an illumination of green lichen.

0

Aug 14, 2015

Aug 14, 2015 at 7:48 PM UTC

donall-dempsey

EMPTY FIELD

- Haiku Sequence (For Mr.N. Of O' S) Empty field except clouds grazing at its centre somewhere far off...sheep. * Empty field except for the colours green...blue & white creating a scene. * Empty field except for the silence being shattered by the big dog’s bark * Empty field except invisible voices call “Where are you..? ” “I’...lost! ” * Empty field except for an oversized unseen big green frog: “...ribbit! ” * Empty field except for a cow exiting now the scene by a tail * Empty field except for a cow now entering the scene by a nose * Empty field except for the well concealed couple making out in hedge * Empty field just waiting for us to come in to keep it in mind * Empty field full now with clouds, a sheep’s bleat, laughter & two lowing cows * Empty field full to the brim with such memories colouring it in. * Field empty now because we have left...does it still exist...now we’ve gone? * Clouds migrate from field to field occasionally getting caught on top of people’s heads in photos or trapped in a mesh of trees. * DEER PARK Mountain empty of people but somewhere...invisible voices Buddha’s rays penetrate dense forest greener again...illumination of lichen. * DEAR PARK Tourist mountain people & their litter everywhere to be seen...obscenely obese. Old poem in my hand penetrates my mind its words an illumination of green lichen.

67

One night of shameless *** with a warm, willing, talented, obscenely younger woman works every time. - mce

0

Apr 5, 2015

Apr 5, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC

mike-essig

Anti-depression Medication

One night of shameless *** with a warm, willing, talented, obscenely younger woman works every time. - mce

8

This isnt a poem, it is an open invitation to any member of this community to attend a poetry reading that myself, Travis McCullers, and Jaysen Good are hosting. It will be held in our homely hometown of Live Oak, Florida at a certain Spirit of the Suwannee cafe on Sunday, March 4th. You all are more than welcome to attend and any contributions you wish to make to the performance will be considered. The cafe is a full service restaurant and bar, so please feel free to get obscenely drunk on the premises. Directions and contact information will ne provided to serious inquirers via private message. Please feel free to ask any other general questions that may occur to you in your comments below. thanks for reading, David Badgerow

0

Feb 20, 2012

Feb 20, 2012 at 11:39 AM UTC

david-badgerow

Open Invitation (that means YOU!)

This isnt a poem, it is an open invitation to any member of this community to attend a poetry reading that myself, Travis McCullers, and Jaysen Good are hosting. It will be held in our homely hometown of Live Oak, Florida at a certain Spirit of the Suwannee cafe on Sunday, March 4th. You all are more than welcome to attend and any contributions you wish to make to the performance will be considered. The cafe is a full service restaurant and bar, so please feel free to get obscenely drunk on the premises. Directions and contact information will ne provided to serious inquirers via private message. Please feel free to ask any other general questions that may occur to you in your comments below. thanks for reading, David Badgerow

3

Omigod, Donald T. **** You unconscionable creep, You are disgusting enough To cost us all sleep. If lies were US dollars You sonofabitch You would truly be Obscenely rich. It’s not enough for you To have gold water faucets, Crystal mirrors everywhere And marble floors in closets Now you want to play at Being a savvy politician Stands for Christian principles From the missionary position. Omigod, Donald T. **** You unconscionable creep, You are disgusting enough To cost us all sleep. With a changing cast of women You call your lawful wives. And you’re the one who wants To control our very lives? You utter your vituperation At poor and the non-Christian. Is having the world hate you Part of your final mission? If lies were US dollars You sonofabitch You would truly be Obscenely rich. You also want control of Our country’s financial hopes. If we fall for that stupid tale Then we are a nation of dopes Because you have bankrupted More than the Monopoly game Would allow a toddler to have And that is quite a shame. Omigod, Donald T. **** You unconscionable creep, You are disgusting enough To cost us all sleep. If lies were US dollars You sonofabitch You would truly be Obscenely rich. No, Mr. T **** please do What is proper and fitting; Call up the press and say That you are finally quitting. Tell them you were just testing To see what the others would do. So, kiss our collective ***** goodbye And take with you that dumb hairdo.

0

Dec 14, 2015

Dec 14, 2015 at 9:56 PM UTC

brent-kincaid

DONALD T. ****

Omigod, Donald T. **** You unconscionable creep, You are disgusting enough To cost us all sleep. If lies were US dollars You sonofabitch You would truly be Obscenely rich. It’s not enough for you To have gold water faucets, Crystal mirrors everywhere And marble floors in closets Now you want to play at Being a savvy politician Stands for Christian principles From the missionary position. Omigod, Donald T. **** You unconscionable creep, You are disgusting enough To cost us all sleep. With a changing cast of women You call your lawful wives. And you’re the one who wants To control our very lives? You utter your vituperation At poor and the non-Christian. Is having the world hate you Part of your final mission? If lies were US dollars You sonofabitch You would truly be Obscenely rich. You also want control of Our country’s financial hopes. If we fall for that stupid tale Then we are a nation of dopes Because you have bankrupted More than the Monopoly game Would allow a toddler to have And that is quite a shame. Omigod, Donald T. **** You unconscionable creep, You are disgusting enough To cost us all sleep. If lies were US dollars You sonofabitch You would truly be Obscenely rich. No, Mr. T **** please do What is proper and fitting; Call up the press and say That you are finally quitting. Tell them you were just testing To see what the others would do. So, kiss our collective ***** goodbye And take with you that dumb hairdo.

56