"rockstar" poems
Frosty the snowman is packing a fat bowl
In his Rockstar pipe he puffs and blows
Until all that's left is coal
Frosty the snowman has the nicest **** around
Oh but don't say so to the old 5-0
Or he'll beat your punk *** down
There must have been some magic in
That old *** bag he found
For when he took it to his head
He turned into a ******* snowman
O, Frosty the snowman
Smokes the dankest bud in town
But you wouldn't know you silly ***
Cuz the **** you smoke is brown
Frosty the snowman
Will green you out one day
You can say you're through
But it's oh so true
Cuz ***** Frosty don't play
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 1:22 AM UTC
Would you judge me?
Do y'know i wont judge you?
Can I be anything I want to be?
Or are there rules I have to conform to?
Spaceman cowboy hippie gangster stoner rockstar chef painter poet
playwright carpenter inventor scientist mathematician author actor
gardener tailor sailor musician comedian doctor pilot barista volunteer
partyplanner spiritualist director engineer psychologist beautician
Please do forgive me but there's more.
I'm greedy, I know, I want it all.
Immense experiences galore.
Money to me means null.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 8:52 AM UTC
Every morning I would hear the metal wheels grind against the rails as the garage door opened
Leave for school as you were under the hood staring at horse power repairing every engine that was broken
Returned home and now you’re underneath a different car, your face blackened from the dirt, oil and debris
And at night sometimes I’d hold the flashlight for you, pointing the light at the wrong spots of the engine, I’d help to some degree
Rarely spoke but wrenches clanked, ratchets ticked, screws and bolts rattled and power tools revved
It’s the language that I never understood but it’s the language I know you’ve said
The garage doors would close, I’d smell the scent of Mary Jane coming from your room, swear the odor was limitless
Then I would hear the rifts and solos from the guitar strings that were plucked by your fingertips
Life as a grease monkey and a rockstar but you loved every second of it, you love everything you do
I wish one day I could find my own love and become something just like you
I see why my mother loves you
You called me your son though we’re not blood I swear I miss you in every way
You’ve alwayz told me to look out for my sister and to protect her everyday
Happy birthday
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 3:55 AM UTC
Beat out a rhythm
With my finger tips
All of the lyrics
Flowing from my lips.
A private dance party
When I'm all alone
I'm a Rockstar in my mirror
With my hairbrush microphone.
And maybe I'll be Rockstar
Someday, someday
Or just here in my bedroom
I have stage fright anyway.
Pump up the volume
No shirt, no pants
Jamming in my socks
My own private dance.
I do it just for fun
When I'm all alone
Rockstar in my mirror
With my hairbrush microphone.
Feb 22, 2011
Feb 22, 2011 at 5:22 PM UTC
Friend Rockstar,
Listen, yield to a robust think-tank,
earlobes skidding against wheat and grain.
Terrible story, yes, what happened to that little girl.
Sterile teddy nightgowns weeping in the squad car windows.
Teacher – Teacher, do you harken my yodels for grace?
I’ve never been maternal.
Put the game on. Abortion.
That’s what I’m about.
Grab a bra. Sling some weight.
That’s what I’m about.
Some housefly wings on a weathered corn cob.
Some downhome, homegrown twang for those fancy, fussy britches.
Muddy workboots. Sweat-soaked collars.
That’s what I’m about.
Him done made me read, sir.
What sacraments did we write today?
I can still remember my first broken bone.
I can still remember my first broken *****
That could be what this is all about.
Mary, Mary, you can be contrite,
so knife – so critter – so laze – so stalked.
Who fertilized your seeds? Who reared your sprouts?
Cockle shells and silver bells, honey,
can’t grow up
to be pretty little maids all in a row.
Sterile teddy nightgowns – green bells in gaseous gardens.
Friend Rockstar, you may have to sleep.
This restless harbor is a shivering anecdote spilled from a belly,
a vast, deep cavern with love notes written in milk.
Your fried, stern smile was a flaking fingernail adjacent to the crack in the flowerpot.
Some garden, I say.
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 7:12 PM UTC
Number 10: Mangle
Number 9: Springtrap
Number 8: VR Toy Freddy
Number 7: Withered Bonny
Number 6: Golden Freddy
Number 5: fredy fazbore
Number 4: Nightmare foxy
Number 3: Circus Baby
Number 2: Rockstar Freddu
Honorable mention: Vanny
Number 1; purple guy
Sep 25, 2023
Sep 25, 2023 at 12:35 AM UTC
my glacier blues stared down into the darkest browns.
I said, "I don't want be brought back. Be it a sudden death, stroke, whatever, maybe a heart attack. Let me go if its my time. If its my turn I'll gladly go, hey, even in my prime."
the darker didn't understand, or didn't want know.
I was saying goodbye if it was my time to go....
I am DNR.
Arguing on their point to want to live. They didn't get too far.
They made threats, bickered, but I just smiled and said, "Its ok baby. I'm a sensitive RockStar..."
With a DNR
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 5:49 PM UTC
Thinking that maybe there is music on planets other than our own
With different tones that we just can’t seem to hone
And instruments like triple necked trombones made of recycled robotic bones
Rockstar aliens playing in bands and doing gigs on planets in neighbouring zones
A gigantic galactic space tour to call their own and silver and chrome skyscraper cities to rock and roam
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
Skinhead
super short
military hair
with a strong jawline
jutting out
I saw you
One random
blindingly hot afternoon
In a jeep
I tried to squeeze in
the small space so the two guys
could scoot over
You’re the guy to my right
Reluctant to pass to the driver
my exact change
You sat upright
Your right arm lifted, hand
closed on the security rail
I could only see your profile
Your jawline and Aviators
Mouth set in a deadpan line
Lean, quietly confident
Dressed casually and carefully
Odd eggplant-colored shirt over
whitewashed jeans
You turned slightly,
your nose strong
chin dignified
skin clean, with slight
blemishes of stress
Pretty eyes
That never landed on me
Your lips slightly curved
as if remembering something
You are beautiful
Arrogant-looking
Bored
Worldly
You’re not from here
Not from common places
Not from this wretched community I belong to
Then my eyes traveled to the back of your head,
An inscription was tattooed
at the back of your skull.
Your hair growing, beginning to cover up
the past?
A dangerous past?
New life?
A mere change of look?
Where are you going?
Where are you from?
Why are you taking this route
to and from common places?
What is your agenda
on this high afternoon?
Are you a rockstar?
Are you a poet
A gangster?
Then finally it’s my stop.
I got up and wished you
were following behind
That we have the same destination
Just so I could look at you
in full view
I stepped into
the sad, bright afternoon
Then I turned around
You’re not there
You sped away
To some place
Some life
With your Aviators
And your principles
And it hurt
That I never even
knew what
your tattoo meant
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 3:36 AM UTC
And so,
I painted my nails
the black lacquer,
'cos they'll remind me
you are always here.
"Just like a rockstar",
you whispered softly,
leaving melancholia,
I live life in solitary.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 9:00 AM UTC
He came to the Philippines
To warm peoples' hearts
Filipinos here and there
Say he's the CHOSEN ONE
The Sky seems dark and gloomy
That may stop the Pope from going
But the Pope says no lets go
The people are waiting for me
No one can cease His Holiness
From becoming one with the Church
He is a certified rockstar
For todays Generation
His advocacies inspired us
To become a better Christian
To help the poor and the needy
And to nurture the youth of today
Let us never forget what he said
Though he left us already
History was made in this country
The country called The Philippines
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 6:25 AM UTC
the demands of lilred's friends are too high
they are too expensive to keep.
she was too tired today
didn't sleep
drank a large coffee in the morning
a rockstar in the afternoon
three more coffees in the evening
all because these friends required her presence
to keep their social activities alive
lilred is in trouble now
too much caffeine and anxiety problems don't mix
they want her when she is awake
but when she is scared and alone
they don't bother
stomach hurting
head aching
back prickly
red is in trouble...
why don't they care
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 10:52 PM UTC
I wonder if you play the guitar.
I wonder if you can sing.
I wonder if you write long captions in your photos,
or maybe if you even write poetry.
But you know how they say that love is blind?
I realized that love can be tone deaf too.
And you are the rockstar to my heart.
And only you know my favourite tunes.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 9:33 AM UTC
oh yuh
***** dubstep bumping like an 808
partying like a rockstar
marijuana molly ***** nyquil ativan adarall
baby bash
waka flocka bumping super H E L L - UH loud
the party downstairs
will be raging with under age kids all night -
here we go again
the peeping land lord- and the drunnk guy outside my bathroom
the sketchy anti social other room mate
the 2nd story appt
and the kids downstairs partying like i did when i was 19
wait a minute
i am way to old for this ****
Apr 22, 2011
Apr 22, 2011 at 6:51 PM UTC
When you're a kid
Some nice person gives you a balloon.
You hold it in your hand by its string;
Touch the shiny tension
Knowing you could pop it at any point.
That feeling.
But I don't wanna talk about
When I was a kid, anymore,
And I've grown so old talking about it.
Cause all I can think of, nowadays
Is a not-so-nice person, giving me
A balloon for $20- that good ****
I hold it in my hand by the
String of what is keeping me alive;
Touch the black and strum the tension in your
Head's sick symphony.
You're ******* sick, and
Knowing you could pop at any point.
It's that feeling.
But I don't wanna talk about feelings, anymore.
Cause I could never really tell if
I ever felt at all- but this is
All too much
And I have got to get my fix.
It's another $20, it's another
Tension in my head, and
Please, balloon man, make this
Feeling go away.
I don't wanna talk about
How it bubbles, right before
The s l i d e.
The chase, the
Tickle.
The honey sweet- try not to puke;
The relief.
The relief.
The relief.
The relief.
The relief.
Fix me.
A paradise of
Strung out dreams.
You shake and hang your head
Below the bowl, nodding out while throwing up.
I am the modern grunge queen-
The rockstar essence
Musical inspiration.
My guitar has never wept so pure
And begged for more like my
Voice was a cure-
But it isn't. And nothing is.
But this
Makes everything
Better, in the worst way.
Driving home the next day.
The sensation of wanting something
More than air
But can't breathe.
**** me.*
**** me.**
**** me.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
You think I didn't notice
Or maybe I made it up
I know what you said
I'd never forget
You're too special
Giving comfort ironically
Secretly, discreetly
Don't worry,
I won't tell
Apr 19, 2011
Apr 19, 2011 at 2:22 PM UTC
Welcome to the club where there's no clapping
And shouting's just beneath you
when you've raised yourself so high
And not a soul here is into moving--
Just standing with crossed arms
Because it's all "alright (you) guess."
Now be careful with your mouth corners,
A smile could crack your face
You're not a joke unless you make one,
and we "don't get it anyway."
Your pedestal is comfortable
And comfort's where it's at--it isn't boring...
It's your birthright--
You do things the rightest way.
Always so amused, but never laughing
You're not having any fun
'cuz it's business anyway
Doing the right thing for the wrong reasons
Don't make you Chief-of-Scene--
Just chief on its list of flaws
Now, be careful with your egos, boys
They're fragile. Say you hate--
all that ******* rockstar ********
I'm getting all your "jokes," today
Your pedestal is lofty and
You built it all yourselves--"That's D.I.Y., kid."
You're all you've hated...
You do things the "rightest" way.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 7:32 PM UTC
I wanna be a rockstar
Bigger than kurt cobain
Seen a girl on runway
And shotgun her brain
She’s a model on top
And she giving her place
Let me work that body
But for now just the face
Just tryna live the lifestyle
Of being a rockstar
I’m seeing flashing lights
But I see no cop cars
Poppin all these pills
Every single night
Smoke a couple kilos
And do in the white
I seen your living nice
Your just a pop star
I need to go further
I wanna be a rockstar
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 9:41 PM UTC
I'm sorry I treated you like
the groupie I've never had.
The things I said in haste
The anti-promises made
Wipe the stars from your eyes
I was more like a black hole
Imploding your soul
I ****** up your heart
And got your hopes up
I saw your dreams as meant
to be taken advantage of
Little miss broken
Mind if I muse you?
to abuse your beauty
and exploit your insides
for the sake of poetry
I could blame it on
Goddess oppression,
My misogynistic intentions
deep rooted by living vicariously
through an idea of a rockstar
Burnt out before I'm initiated in the 27 club
Black holes still in your personality
I can't just tell you
I was scraping the bottom of the barrel
Trying to keep the void filled
with inspiration
In desperation
We both ended up
occupying insides
caught in a euphoric tide
That oxytocin's a helluva drug
at least for it's half-life
We both came crashing
right/write where I intended
Reincarnated,
by the words I've mended
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
For this point and time being my life is good up in this moment
It’s showing and the hoes know it
so it’s hard to overthrow it
So I’m living like a rockstar but funny cuz I ain’t famous
And it’s funny, see the money then you start to see the changes
See my friends in different places
cuz we walk in different paces
And we trapped up in the struggle hoping one day we can make it
And I’m scared to loose em to death cuz we outta luck
But I’m really afraid to grow apart cuz we outta touch.....
**** where’d the time go
Looking at me in this mirror, realizing I’m getting old
But yet I’m still young and I’m happy within my placement
But with all the **** I’ve done what happens if I never make it
Afraid to drop a seed, I’ll raise him, I ain’t bluffing
But how can he look up to me if I don’t amount to nothing
I’m taking a second to sit and think about my fears
Will I lead to my own destruction or continue on my years
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 5:49 AM UTC
I scream and sing while I do my thing
With my guitar I let the shredding begin
To go with the rhythm I bang my head
With the noise I make, I'll be waking the dead. Yeaahh!
Swirling like the leave that falls
My music's sweet its rock n roll
With my lyrics, I'm getting in your head
Oh baby tonight meet me on your bed. Whoah!
I'll make your world, jumps up and down
Until we both go deeper underground
Exchanging body heat with our melody
Oh baby tonight don't you feel so pretty? Ahhhh!!
I'm a rockstar baby come and sing along
I'm a drifter yeah! I'm a rolling stone
We sing a song, we come and go
We soar so high and then we go down low...oooohhh!
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 6:45 AM UTC
When we devote our heart to what
phases and appalls us,
we leave no room in our hearts and
sit alone waiting on the people of our
dreams.
So many times we take morality and
mold it into our sculpture of opinion.
We take the image of the natural beauty
our friends arrive to take us and photoshop
beauty queens, anorexic girls, naked men,
and clear skinned bashful humans.
We look the way we do,
but we’re not done yet.
Split ends are the representation of a
woman who works hard to earn her
dream and live her destiny one day.
A teenager with blemishes enters the
school doors and cracks quirky jokes
and makes an eight grade girl laugh;
she who is fourteen and feels no inferiority
despite her flat chest and gap tooth.
He is not the fat boy who everybody loves,
he is a human being and is here for the same
reason any model,
rockstar,
dancer,
athlete,
actor,
and Olympian is here
today.
Can we look the way we do and feel as if
we need no photoshop on what is really on
us?
It’s all about
what is
in us.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 11:05 PM UTC