"roxanne" poems
don’t tell me “I love you” ~by Roxanne, for Cyrano~
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that’s a verse I’ve heard many too times before,
that’s a curse of low majesty, a quatrain too plain,
if that’s your best sally, retreat, say no more,
too simp verses, or ungolden silences, agents of dissatisfying pain
I need the best of your taste
the finest visions that you eyelids occlude,
make haste for my mouth grows exceedingly
impatient for the other senses to do their tandem wooing
slap only my face with the creature comforts others savor,
words of diamonds and pink pearls mined from your breast,
the bejeweled words that will decorate my evergreen,
that never dies, lest, unless and until,
you want my mortal affection suppressed
give me your linguistic promiscuity, wake me from the stupor
of ordinary, arouse me with thy tongue coiling, a bee sting delivery,
a wet poem that makes all my orifices!|offices weep, your mouth,
my souls recouper,
your wizardry bewitching,
answer my inquiry with unbounded festivity
then and after all, the plain simplicity of an “I love you,”
will be edged with sublimity, my mercies, your mercies
our jointed, sharp pointy, introverting, interlocking,
*our futures becoming
our pasts*
11:07am
19-9-30
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https://thenewgroup.org/production/cyrano/?gclid=Cj0KCQjwz8bsBRC6ARIsAEyNnvoENpdnWyqeUEwq0avNStgWCf4CocB1i239c2mHdNSFF8gOlWZtfjsaAls4EALw_wcB
Oct 10, 2019
Oct 10, 2019 at 11:35 AM UTC
____ Little leonard Lion, decided to attend the Upcoming Town meeting with an Open mind about the Subjects that were to be Discussed. Many Times in the Past, Little Leonard along with others of his Thinking, Especially, Anthony Ant and Roxanne Roach, Went to the Town Meetings with the Attitude of "Cautious-Listening".. MANY Times the Town Meetings, conducted by the Town Upper-Layers and their *Chief, Wendall Waglips, had NOT stuck entirely to issues , BUT rather Modified them. SO, that the Credits due to the *Proper Provider, were Instead directed to Themselves ! Waglips and his Upper Layers had announced the Upcoming meeting would be a *Revelation of NEW Ideas and Plans ! Needles to say, Leonard Lion, Anthony Ant and Roxanne Roach Could Hardly wait ! As they sat on the edges of their seats, to hear the Proclamations that Wendall and the Upper Layers would be SWEETLY offering up to the Audience of " Fully Attentive" Listeners . Waglips approached the Podium of Announcement, Stood behind it, Grabbed both sides at the top, Leaned forward toward the microphone,____With a Self made Smile and his Attitudinal Voice, Began the Ritual of Proclamations; #1= A Decree you will accept with Glee. #2= When I Condone and accept it as the Known. #3= Should you disagree, DON'T bring it to me ! #4= What is Laid out, ACCEPT it or get Out. #5= The LAWS are on the Walls in the Halls,,BUT__DON'T Loiter in the Halls. Waglips continued His Finale , "These are for Your benefit and I am sure You agree, That each of you they will fit ! These NEW rules we've SPOKEN for your Wellbeing for the Residents of this Town ! _____Leonard, Anthony and Roxanne Looked at each other and glanced around at the 2500 attendees ! As a Megaphone was Placed in Leonards hand! He Repeatedly Shouted out ! "JOIN ME IN THE HALLS "... So, whats in store for those who stayed in their seat and "DID-NOT" heed the Boldness of the VOICE ,calling them to the Halls ?
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 3:35 AM UTC
Ringed fingers run across sculpted chests,
and they don their red stained lipstick vests.
"Roxanne" plays in the background,
and it feels like raindrops falling down,
because my eyes are cold, and blue, and wet.
Misty eyes and tired smoke
breathe deep through aching, weary lungs.
We cry in alleyways and choke
on strange bedfellows with probing tongues.
My heart is filled with tear stained jokes.
My jeans are filled with crumbled ones.
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
deep pan cooking not hardeep cooking 21.08.18
monday started top draw
my venom going to spill
natalie is going to get poetry draw
forget girlfriends she will run for hill.
how dare she complain
when something is uncontrollable
insomnia through hardeep may rain
but freedom of speech not so honourable.
gabby and chloe showed they cared
how natalie was blunt
explaining hardeep was literally chaired
footage available now hunt.
onto shares and stocks
rodrigo learning how to trade
laughing off my socks
no barings even if bad bug won't fade.
nick and rodrigo in control
on boarder line ready to hassle
the biceps taking fall patrol
it was rodrigo not nick who liked mussel.
failure to the task
hunger will be plenty
one comment can not mask
hardeep can make something out of empty.
dans hands were magic
don't get confused
gabby refusal was award and tragic
like basic budget just amused.
was sally watching adverts
the aviva app dash cam i log
roxanne will need youtube diverts
it was a tin man not a brown dog.
nick explaining about travel
lands of paradise and greens
at airport all unravel
seeing face on all them screens.
legs up and over
natalie and gabby to exercise
hardeep with a nasty dig and sober
saying nick doing shopping add criticise.
natalie and hardeep getting louder
hardeep gets my crown
unacceptable all about curry powder
she bring herself not hardeep down.
going to end with a critic
natalie won't see no irony
vicious mouth and hyper-critic
its all add to cbb savoury.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 4:59 AM UTC
you have to face it:
you are getting tired of your boyfriend
especially when he sings along to the radio
your smile is cut open,
you are daydreaming through the midwest
your friend looking a little too hard
you touch your boyfriend’s jeans
just slightly.
her mouth is cut open,
and you can feel her red hair
spreading through you like a fever
you were always tired of her boyfriend
and you are already tired of los angeles
and you are only in texas.
you’ve been here for three days
and the earth shakes with *******
and gold bikinis. you sip a harvey wallbanger
and watch people **** in the fountain
and you resent your boyfriend
you cross your legs. you study the greek myths,
holding a cigarette.
her name is roxanne
and her mouth is a vase
of red flowers standing in the kitchen
of your connecticut home
when you are thirteen and
everyone is still alive
she is wearing black
and so are you.
you’ve never been ****** before.
the sun pushes through swelling flowers
towards the bar. you can’t stop blinking
when he leans into you, you giggle
like a mouse in a minidress
and uncross your legs, slowly
like you learned about in the magazines.
you’re wondering how much coke
one person can do in one night
(a lot)
but it’s not you, and the red fills the room
and you have benzodiazepine in your pocket
and you think about the word “calamity”
calm, or not?
what is the music industry?
you have started to sleep face down
and you keep the flowers close at night
and in the morning.
you’ve been kissing the sun
with your mouth open
so your boyfriend does a stage dive on national television
from 30 ft up
and the red fills the room.
when you are invited to his house
you want to say no
but instead you dress in silks
and take peyote, or LSD
roxanne drifts, laureled, around the ceilings
the host is drooling mad words
all over the candles. they’re not going out
and neither are you.
do you deserve half a million dollars,
or are you just telling yourself that?
roxanne doesn’t feel the gun in her mouth
until it’s going off
and she can see you outside on the beach
building your dream house out of sand-
but only for a second.
obviously, you didn’t think
you’d ever love your boyfriend again
but he relearned to walk
and you think it’s admirable
and strong, and brave
you’re the only one that los angeles didn’t swallow
by this time, the sun is going out
the blood around her mouth like a vase
of flowers on the kitchen table
give it a minute, you’ll be gone too.
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
Oh Cyrano, dear Cyrano
Monsieur, de Bergerac
Your nose was big, yes really big
Immense, “la tabernac”
You stuck it in, a love affair
And wrote, Roxanne some prose
She fell for it, to the extent
That then, she Christian chose
All those years, you pined for her
And wrote Christian, some more
But in the end, it wasn’t him
But the letters, she’d adore
So you were left, without her love
As if, it was to be
And it’s your prose, which did you in
How stupid, could you be
Before Roxanne, realized you lied
A log, did hit your head
You sadly came, to your demise
And your love, remained unsaid
And so, the moral of your story
Now, comes sadly to its close
Remember to be careful
Where you stick, your big fat nose
BOEMS BY JA 74
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 10:04 AM UTC
For Alice (Who used to be me)
I have believed in fairy tales
Once I walked in worlds of rosy hue
I lived in Wonderland and Counterpane
dreaming dreams I knew would all come true
Morning turns to noon day to evening all too soon
Oz can turn to ashes in just a day
Princes return as frogs to their lily pads
Wonderlands Alice is a matron growing grey
No one comes to kiss the princess as she sleeps,
Knights in shining armor ride no more.
Tinker bell is dying with no one to believe.
The Mad Hatter is laughing at the door.
The dragon is not slain but lives in glory
Roxanne always marries Christian after all
Cinderella sits forever midst the ashes
Too late for Alice the door is much to small
The Emerald City's walls are bottle glass
And reality has crushed them neath its heel
The yellow brick road leads nowhere very quickly
And Alice knows that lonely is the only thing she'll feel
oh! let alice return to Wonderland again,
Away from the mud and slime outside the looking glass.
Life is much to large without that tiny door,
And she would seek the March Hares party where time will never pass.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 2:51 AM UTC
this one starts where so many have
bed-begun
a weekend morn,
sun flooding the chamber,
we swap YouTube fav's,
over cups of almost
hotter coffee
I ******
with
"Roxanne" by Police;
she subtlety point counterpoints my
unsubtle advances, parrying by
sending me dreams of
the **** promised land of
"El Tango of Roxanne,"
from Moulin Rouge
I concede,
she pleased,
pleases me,
that her triumphed victory came so easy
not realizing my plan all along,
realizing, my all along man plan
ah,
Saturday, Naturday,
making natural spring water
poems
drawn from the saucy source
mother (bed-sun-music) earth
this one ends where so many have
bed-begun
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 7:46 AM UTC
Really man,
Roxanne?
That song
is
so
****
ing
old.
Obsessed
with these
western scales,
embrace your anxiety.
It will probably
make you a better person,
that is,
if you ever
considered yourself human.
"Deeper" means "meta-",
make an analogy.
Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 2:26 PM UTC
The connections we make in this life are precious. Perhaps the most valuable commodity available to us. It's very brave of you to openly admit that you are afraid to put your heart on the line. There are a good deal of people who will tell you if the one you are writing about harms you or does wrong to you that you are too good for them. I propose this question to you. What if you were to confront the basis for your fear and tell yourself that whatever it may be is something you have since overcome and are superior to? And if you haven't then certainly with time and perspective you will. Writing is an excellent channel for this kind of emotion and you will watch as your experiences flow into your writing relieving of you all your torment and fear to be replaced with courage. A courage to think about yourself as worthy of others love, as everyone innately was born to be. It is only through fear that we isolate ourselves, blame ourselves, and live in inferiority. What makes anyone truly special or more deserving of love than another? Not a thing, and any one who would contest this is openly admitting that they are the very same creatures who struggle with the same fear as everyone else. I say this to you as one stranger to another.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC
He tasted like vanilla and reminded me of sweet summer nights and old worn out leather jackets. He was the rain on a hot day; the day you're usually begging for more from. I fell in love with him fast and quick. The let down was just as fast as I heard from a friend he hopped a train out of town & he wasn't seen again.
He tasted like fall. Fallen leaves and broken tree branches. Hints of spiced tea and buttered toast at breakfast. He had dark brown hair and bright green eyes. He was the apple cider with a shot of whiskey you ached for when you're roaming for the perfect pumpkin. I lost him in a corn maze to a girl with yellow hair, he smiled and said he was sorry. I heard they got married & have a baby on the way.
He tasted like ashes of a cigarette that wouldn't quite go away. He was sweeter than expected and awfully romantic when it suited him. He wore ripped jeans and this ugly orange beanie. He was cold though.. At times like a winter storm. His icy ways hit me in the face a couple times. Last I heard he was in Chicago now with some girl names Roxanne beating her like he did me.
He tasted like... Valentine's Day. Chocolates and red wine and rose petals on your bed. He smelled like cologne and wore his hair slicked back in that gentleman way. He rarely smiled but when he did it could have lit New York for days. He tasted like... Memories. Like walking down the hallway in school; smiling with secrets only you knew. He rarely laughed... But he did... He could have made symphonies jealous with that sound.
He's married now, two kids and a perfect house. He still wears his hair slicked back and I heard he doesn't smile much at all these days. I saw him once, he flashed that grin so ever lasting and for a brief moment...we both remembered the days when it was he and I against the world.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 10:20 PM UTC
Listen here, miss crazy,
Every Breath I Take, my soul
screams, Don't Stand so Close
to Me. I want to escape.
Maybe to an Island, where
the only contact with your
madness will be by a
Message in a Bottle.
So please, Roxanne, for the
last time, there was no
Synchronicity between us.
Haunt someone else with
your, Ghost in the Machine
the mumbo jumbo and your
Do Do Do, Da Da Da.
no longer works.
Aug 19, 2025
Aug 19, 2025 at 6:53 PM UTC
Don't put on your red light
Baby there's no need tonight
Your love's for sale
So you feel like you can't fail
But honey this isn't what you need
Don't make me beg, don't make me plead
You're an angel among monsters
Your nights run together in a blur
Don't do this to yourself anymore
Just walk away and close that door
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
I miss my dentist.
I miss the smell of disinfectant in his office,
The sound of the water pick
The taste of his latex gloves in my mouth.
I miss the one-sided conversations about the philosophies of life.
I miss hearing about how his wife and his kids are doing.
The gossip about Roxanne’s new boyfriend or the new shipment of fluoride that just came in.
I miss the sound of the secretary's keyboard as she types up the report stating that
I am cavity free.
I miss him telling me how healthy and beautiful my smile is.
I miss him thoughtfully listening to my life complaints as he examines my x-rays.
I miss his advice, the wise counsel he’d give regarding my schooling or love life and the way he’d wink when he says I’m good for another six months.
But those six months couldn’t come fast enough.
Jenny broke up with her ex for the 4th time, Paul quit his job before a drug test, Sherry dropped out of college, my roommate is pregnant, Dad bought a pet kangaroo, my apartment is infested with small beetel things, I’ve only eaten ramen for the past 3 days and Cason proposed to me.
I don’t know how to handle it all.
I miss my therapist.
I mean my dentist.
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 11:09 PM UTC
wrap your arms around me
**** me slowly from the stench of your second hand sin
your kiss is the match that burned down the church
your embrace warm like the embers as the stain glass windows break and the structure collapses
Preach to me every sermon from your soul as we both drink too much alcohol and at 2a.m. the body of christ is a large fry and well laugh til we cry keeping each other afloat at night drowning in the tears of failed exceptions
*** with you is like transcendence old motions feel anew
like fish out of water we bounce around waiting to breath but the breath never comes
we are faithful believers that the church is full of lies
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 6:40 AM UTC
We dug through dusk,
well past flash-light and mosquito bites.
Kim planted Roxanne almost three feet below,
swathed in cardboard and blanket folds.
No spoken words.
Just a cinder-block marker and a promise
of daffodils
to pick gently
next Spring.
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 2:36 PM UTC
Listen here miss crazy,
Every Breath I Take my soul
screams, *Don't Stand so Close
to Me.* I want to escape.
Maybe to an Island, where
the only contact with your
madness will be by a
Message in a Bottle.
So please Roxanne, for the
last time, there is no
Synchronicity between us.
Go haunt someone else with
your, Ghost in the Machine
the mumbo jumbo and your
Do Do Do, Da Da Da.
no longer works.
Apr 23, 2020
Apr 23, 2020 at 11:37 AM UTC
my man is down rod-ken-doll 26.08.18
saturday started like a germ
rodrigo and humour no maybe
hilarious was idea and fake *****
in fits with quote "allot of baby".
at this time on wall no writing
dan was to read a disciplinary
sam smith and white object was inviting
all jumping to conclusion with summary.
my man was to whisper careless
but up-most respect is the can
like a sword fight in chess
no gossip done by roxanne.
kirsty and a woman's intuition
explaining to rodrigo to shut
a bit like nick and boxing edition
the WBA like stock exchange would cut.
now what is forbidden
rodrigo and natlie were detective clever
off his trolley will remain hidden
the true meaning discovered so luck for ever.
nature was broody
no need to beg
did nick deliberately try to bring out moody
suggesting cake and hardeep and the egg.
now a bit of my brother
originally not georges crown
sally misinterpreted cover
no wainwright or hardeep but natlie going to town.
the eggs had no ends
in kitchen still volatile
while boxing in garden between friends
dan and roxanne showed style.
hardeep went to soak
maybe thinking of comedy literature
natalie to to sally did stoke
highlighting all is like theatre.
three getting ready
all glam and glitter to see
natlie and a line now steady
your not on unless next to me.
gabby and chloe on love bubble
at present dignity in tact
no chance of rodrigo holding up trouble
not on tv a *** act.
natlie had the doom
hardeep offered hand
up and out the room
can not with viewers understand.
hardeep very humble
grateful to explain orwellian
gave me a great word to stumble
in love with machiavellian.
before end some hurt
gabby with love not to handle
touching was dan and tshirt
ending with rodrigo going blowing out my candle.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 9:58 AM UTC
roxanne put on your Pinocchio shoes 01.09.18
she may well think queen
that's the cats mother
captured every single scene
its the beauty of george my big brother.
coming round is karma
it will all unravel
i predict hot air and drama
moving just like sallys navel.
do you remember Saigon
but vivid is roxys speech
cowering makes no icon
desperation is one leech.
playing is no sting
silence gave away the clues
roxanne tonight lost her bling
when most told ben put on shoes.
great tv viewing
from me gets a gold ten
game still has plenty of chewing
step up a gear with release of ben.
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 3:44 AM UTC