"tussauds" poems - Hello Poetry

I heart Blackpool, engraved tankards Little old men & full kit wankers. Bracing wind with rain & sleet ******* blowing in the street. In Blackpool. Kiss me quick & squeeze me slow. Madame Tussauds, pier-end show Grubby track-suits, baseball caps Homeless people search for scraps. In Blackpool. Sun and rain, blue & grey. All four seasons in one day. Drug ravaged transients dressed in rags. Haggard old women smoke their **** In Blackpool. Flashing lights & lots of noise Flirty girls & drunken boys Abba tributes, yesterday’s stars, Rattling trams & clapped out cars. In Blackpool. Penny arcades & bingo halls. Amusement rides & market stalls. Drag Queens flaunt with macho men. Stripper seduces drunken hen. In Blackpool. Rooms by the hour, rooms by the night. A £1 burger & a £2 pint Rolling sea & golden sand. Lowest life expectancy in the land. In Blackpool.

0

May 1, 2020

May 1, 2020 at 5:37 AM UTC

anton-snert

Blackpool

I heart Blackpool, engraved tankards Little old men & full kit wankers. Bracing wind with rain & sleet ******* blowing in the street. In Blackpool. Kiss me quick & squeeze me slow. Madame Tussauds, pier-end show Grubby track-suits, baseball caps Homeless people search for scraps. In Blackpool. Sun and rain, blue & grey. All four seasons in one day. Drug ravaged transients dressed in rags. Haggard old women smoke their **** In Blackpool. Flashing lights & lots of noise Flirty girls & drunken boys Abba tributes, yesterday’s stars, Rattling trams & clapped out cars. In Blackpool. Penny arcades & bingo halls. Amusement rides & market stalls. Drag Queens flaunt with macho men. Stripper seduces drunken hen. In Blackpool. Rooms by the hour, rooms by the night. A £1 burger & a £2 pint Rolling sea & golden sand. Lowest life expectancy in the land. In Blackpool.

30

why all the banality with rhyme for a mere cushion fight? me too! me too! i too a teenage prima donna having a stab at it! leopard skin prints on pyjamas... yuck... wait for boxing day... shop till you drop bah bah baby... and that toddler of yours will be ready as a Madame Tussauds mannequin replica - the sound ginger without grammatical rubric said via gritted teeth - gee 'n' gherkin! and no, it's not a Nabokov fancy... had one though with a gay Canadian drinking wine, eating cheese and baguette at sunset by the Eiffel toodle-loo... nice... tulips on your grave; a very Dutch funeral - halfway submerged given the Himalayas.

0

Apr 28, 2016

Apr 28, 2016 at 7:51 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

sleepover

why all the banality with rhyme for a mere cushion fight? me too! me too! i too a teenage prima donna having a stab at it! leopard skin prints on pyjamas... yuck... wait for boxing day... shop till you drop bah bah baby... and that toddler of yours will be ready as a Madame Tussauds mannequin replica - the sound ginger without grammatical rubric said via gritted teeth - gee 'n' gherkin! and no, it's not a Nabokov fancy... had one though with a gay Canadian drinking wine, eating cheese and baguette at sunset by the Eiffel toodle-loo... nice... tulips on your grave; a very Dutch funeral - halfway submerged given the Himalayas.

21

from a random street artist towards the fame of Madame Tussauds they hardly know the struggle of an introvert the small lanes upbringing the large specs the differentiation lies in between me & we at the end the truth is under cover and defeated looser I define myself "Misunderstood"-26.03.2017

0

Mar 26, 2017

Mar 26, 2017 at 1:14 PM UTC

gourab-banerjee

#Misunderstood

from a random street artist towards the fame of Madame Tussauds they hardly know the struggle of an introvert the small lanes upbringing the large specs the differentiation lies in between me & we at the end the truth is under cover and defeated looser I define myself "Misunderstood"-26.03.2017

11

If I were to choose a statue to be put at Madame Tussauds, It would Mom's, Not mine,yours or ours, Just Mum's. If I were told to save and harvest water, It would be mum's tears, Silver drops,more precious than diamonds. Tears she shed's in silence for us. If I were to give award for best winning receipes, It would be mum's Her receipe would always have the special ingredient called LOVE. If I were to give an award for endurance, It would be mum's If we are sick or in trouble, She would be prostrate in prayers till we are safe. The list goes on, That is a mother and motherhood. Her day is us, her night is us, Her UNIVERSE is us.

0

May 13, 2018

May 13, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC

salmabanu-hatim

Ode To All Mums

If I were to choose a statue to be put at Madame Tussauds, It would Mom's, Not mine,yours or ours, Just Mum's. If I were told to save and harvest water, It would be mum's tears, Silver drops,more precious than diamonds. Tears she shed's in silence for us. If I were to give award for best winning receipes, It would be mum's Her receipe would always have the special ingredient called LOVE. If I were to give an award for endurance, It would be mum's If we are sick or in trouble, She would be prostrate in prayers till we are safe. The list goes on, That is a mother and motherhood. Her day is us, her night is us, Her UNIVERSE is us.

20

are you sure that we're supposed to be buried in earth, earth the closest we resemble as ash... are you sure? just wondering, because i've just stopped looking through my grandfather's rea ding glasses... and what i saw through them... was akin to having your eyes open, underwater... perhaps this whole one-size-fits-all coffin packaging is great to cut corners and run the treadmill... hell, floating murk of cremation on the Ganges... if the druids were to be stirred... the eyes of man, ought to be buried in the sea or lake or river... the other body parts?! dunno... because that would rob me of the authenticity of where I'd like my eyes to be buried... or rather dropped into... apart from the eyes and the brain... i guess the druids would prefer the modernised version of events, given the progess of science... donor flesh... even the heart doesn't exactly fit a burial worthy of the earth... you could in earnest bury a heart of a wild animal, when performing a burial rite... but there's something comical about the inverted necrophilia, a higher tier of hue... there is a dead man, but a part of him is still living, in another... hence my sour taste in, peace be upon him, Christopher Hitchens' atheism, banking on genes, and an eternity solely via genes... genes are but atoms... i see... a heart of my calibre beating for 10 more years in a foreign body... and all this... with the exausted poetic eucharist of Christianity... and before the techno-tenticle explores... a complete inversion of necrophilia... a subtleness of life... and the endless possibilities therein... at least by cremation: nothing is sacred, all is elemental... not this, from dust you came, but unto wax you shall return... Madame Tussauds *** doll precursors, and a stag night joke about ******* a helium sheep... with all due respect, peace be upon him, there are more avenues to eternity, than in the immediate sense, atomist, procreation and the passing on of genes... unless you are of course a modern day Portuguese **** with the no. 7 roy-al white... less about prostitutes tier C, certainly not tier B (strippers and the sugg'ah daddy teasers)... no, we're talking Gattaca ****** tier A... surrogates.

0

Apr 12, 2018

Apr 12, 2018 at 5:47 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

inverted necrophilia of receiving an ***** donation

are you sure that we're supposed to be buried in earth, earth the closest we resemble as ash... are you sure? just wondering, because i've just stopped looking through my grandfather's rea ding glasses... and what i saw through them... was akin to having your eyes open, underwater... perhaps this whole one-size-fits-all coffin packaging is great to cut corners and run the treadmill... hell, floating murk of cremation on the Ganges... if the druids were to be stirred... the eyes of man, ought to be buried in the sea or lake or river... the other body parts?! dunno... because that would rob me of the authenticity of where I'd like my eyes to be buried... or rather dropped into... apart from the eyes and the brain... i guess the druids would prefer the modernised version of events, given the progess of science... donor flesh... even the heart doesn't exactly fit a burial worthy of the earth... you could in earnest bury a heart of a wild animal, when performing a burial rite... but there's something comical about the inverted necrophilia, a higher tier of hue... there is a dead man, but a part of him is still living, in another... hence my sour taste in, peace be upon him, Christopher Hitchens' atheism, banking on genes, and an eternity solely via genes... genes are but atoms... i see... a heart of my calibre beating for 10 more years in a foreign body... and all this... with the exausted poetic eucharist of Christianity... and before the techno-tenticle explores... a complete inversion of necrophilia... a subtleness of life... and the endless possibilities therein... at least by cremation: nothing is sacred, all is elemental... not this, from dust you came, but unto wax you shall return... Madame Tussauds *** doll precursors, and a stag night joke about ******* a helium sheep... with all due respect, peace be upon him, there are more avenues to eternity, than in the immediate sense, atomist, procreation and the passing on of genes... unless you are of course a modern day Portuguese **** with the no. 7 roy-al white... less about prostitutes tier C, certainly not tier B (strippers and the sugg'ah daddy teasers)... no, we're talking Gattaca ****** tier A... surrogates.

81