Brianna Aug 2014

I want to be your sunset eyes, those blue skies, you're perfect starry night.
I want to be the shore kissed by the sea, I want to have everything causally, I want you and me.
I want to be the waves when they dance alone, the midnight tone, I want to be your back bone.
I want to be your perfect scent, your missed rent, those days you feel you need to repent.
I want you to listen to these cheesy rhymes, feeding me these sweet lines, be together all the time.
I want to be your dark brown hair, the place back when we didn't care, the memories only we share.

I want you in all the ways I can say.
I'll want you forever and always each and every day.

ruorou Feb 2015

vicious revenge feel its strain.
Engrained forever on a decaying brain.
For its a plague with no andetote. No cure.
Nothings sacred. nothings pure.
No honor here to gain but a grasp of guilt, sorrow and pain.

A trench deep seated with animosity.
Hearts too blinded by hatred to see.
Its walls engulfing like vines round a tree.
But no vegeance shall set you free.

In realising its errors and fate
The soul desperately searches to escape.
Weary, hollow, it longs to retire
But hatred enslaves as its walls grow higher

For this is one prison sentence that will never transpire..
If you fight fire with fire.

the goldfish sing all night with guitars,
and the whores go down with the stars,
the whores go down with the stars
I'm sorry, sir, we close at 4:30,
besides yr mother's neck is dirty,
and the whores go down with the etc.,
the whrs. go dn. with the etc.
I'm sorry jack you can't come back,
I've fallen in love with another sap,
3/4 Italian and 1/2 Jap,
and the whores go
the whores go
etc.
from "All's Normal Here" - 1985

Fame Leanne King Jun 2014

Further my mind goes, than I believed it could fathom
Fathoms below even the deceased dreams chasm
Impassionately growing through and between atoms
To learn
There is no whole truth in solely words
Blindfolded, if your mind isn't where the memory occurs
So it's sure
We'll never understand more than we're capable to confer
And it doesn't mean, you can't relate to the way I toss n' turn
In my sleep
That it isn't the same color we bleed
Or that we aren't perhaps equally 'deep'
Just that we hold some nature of privacy in our thoughts, from any other's gaze
Did I mention it was books of seperate authors, though we're on the same page?
What I wish to relate today
Is I have been changing to date
I'm breaking, down just like anyone else
Draining my health
Enslaved by the chase of wealth
Smiling while we're high, but we'll retreat to our personal hells
The honesty is, I'm scared to delve into myself
Because I know where my truth gets ugly, and has no glamour
Not the 30 second commercial version of what it's like living with cancer
It's habits, actions and manner
Looming over my pride
Leaving a weakness in my stride
Making me feel tired before I've tried

K Apr 2014

Don't write me off as apathetic because you don't understand me.
I am mountains sobbing in earthquakes.
I am rivers screaming in floods.
I am bridges laughing into splinters.
I am systems crashing and burning out with a wink of light.
I am a wildfire in skin and clothes and I would destroy you if I showed you my true self.
Do not underestimate my emotions because you do not see them.

Paul Sands Apr 2015

we'll agree then,
you can't rhyme orange
but perhaps maybe
we could arrange
to use instead
mandarin
that or possibly
tangerine

A couple of years, or so, ago I saw a quick performance by the poet Polar Bear on Chanel 4 where he lamented the fact you couldn't rhyme anything with the word orange. This was my response (recently rediscovered in my orphans waiting destruction)
Ross J Porter Nov 2012

He forgot his soap
What a dope
No one here can cope
He's worse than campfire smoke

He could of brought it on a rope
So he wouldn't have to grope
Instead he'll mope
For friends he's got no hope

They run when they scope
The boy without his soap
Rolling down the slope
Singing baroque
Like the pope

He tried a bath in coke
Oh what a joke
Because the sugars provoke
Mosquitoes to bite and poke.

Still he stinks like BO and oak
Smells like a singer of folk
Whose hair is matted into rope
Cause he won't use soap
What a dope!

Matthew Harlovic Jun 2014

Good Morning, Good Morning, Good Day Sunshine. The Night Before was A Hard Day’s Night. I, Me, Mine, I mean, I Feel Fine, Better, than I ever felt In My Life. I spent midnight in the Strawberry Fields down by Moonlight Bay. I was Searchin’ for Maggie Mae but met up with Penny Lane so we ran around in Circles till it started to Rain. Yesterday was Something , but I can change I promise you that I Will. From Me To You , I can be more than The Fool On The Hill. Yes It Is, a little silly, but I Just Don't Understand. Why you constantly lose faith in this Nowhere Man. But We Can Work It Out, Because, well I Need You, but all you got to do is believe Like Dreamers Do.

© Matthew Harlovic

I tried doing a different style of poetry. This is where I'd take a band or singer and use their song titles to create a story. Therefore everything in bold is a song title by The Beatles. Enjoy folks.
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