"womaniser" poems
I am waiting for the stars to lead me
Away from this late night double-feature
But I just can't get these scars to leave me
Our time was too short
For me to realise
That a five-star last resort
Was all I was to you
I should have been the wiser
I should have seen the womaniser
In time to stop myself from
Building you inside me
I fell in love with the beauty in the bridges
And the richness of the ridges
Connecting you to me
Can't you see
How this poetry
Is defined by everything I've ever laid my heart on
Every race I've ever had a head start on
Every game I've ever played a part in
And every end of a new beginning of mine starting?
How can I wake up
Into a new day
When all I have left of you still belongs to this one?
How can I be redone
When I can't even say
The sounds that make up the music of my name?
How am I supposed to move on
When everything still looks the same?
I've bid farewell to the vows we'll never take
And I've said goodbye to the children we'll never make
Yet I will wait for you indefinitely
And like a dream that's blown apart
I will wait for you
At the bottom of my heart
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 5:42 PM UTC
i like that phrase, what a handsome
ransom to pay a man into
transcending being a pen-pal
and instead a constant atmosphere of attention,
like: ooh honey pooh bear,
you take that earl grey tea of yours with
honey or light-brown shoo gar?
no wait, i said camomile, i didn't say two kids!
and when they think they know you,
they anonymously "think" / purposively insinuate
you'd actually say that sort of **** in your
day-to-day exercises of: ah wait, sun's been here
before, right?
exactly, there's no pooh bear here for you -
there's me, my shadow, a football dribbled for
2 miles to state... well... eh;
of the cursed alignment - (she) oh look at me
peacock look at me peacock all with l'oréal
slogans and cosmopolitan magazine quizzes -
(he) i say, when you tried being a womaniser
after discarding all long-lived potential mates,
your only salvation comes in a chocolate-box
of celibacy and jokes, where you're forever
the no. 1 joke - well, someone had to dangle on
the crucifix, but as Patti Smith and Shaggy said:
it wooz'ent n00b me.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 6:19 PM UTC
He had no chance they had no face
his gun in his waist having a cup of tea
he did not see them come they moved silently
His phone was his distraction for he was a womaniser
and his wife was no cook or good wife so he never wanted to be there when his children wasn't.
they moved like an owl in the dark of night
but when he looked up it was too late they jumped out
each with an ak-47 shooting as they go he draw his gun but never go to use they took his hands off and shot him in the face but my dad was a warrior you see
he got back up but they shot him in the leg came over his body and let it rip BRAP BRAP BRAP! Thats all was heard they left speedily for they just killed a mafia king heaven knows where they went but they know what they did. All I have now is hate in my heart and I'm searching the war isn't Over for I'm now getting started.
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 9:44 AM UTC
the rain is collecting onomatopoeia (rare
to find a word with plurality in it
misspelled in the geometric hyper-linear
onomatopoeias) -
ever think of the womaniser bred
from feminism? i know you haven't,
and i know you won't before playing
the Shelley game of test-tubes -
your ideals i'll never die for -
i'd be in the trenches during the first world war,
but your world, i don't want to be part of.
she read Huxley, he played football -
he was an outdoor kind of guy,
she was a moth rather than a butterfly,
a new breed of womanisers has spawned -
turns out my kind are the idiots -
well... hello darling, welcome to the real world.
the rain is pouring out there, god playing
piano, looking for both onomatopoeia and metaphor...
it's drain drain drip... it's hospitalised drain
drain drip and the words that encourage
the wholly vacant - the rain -
imagine the evolutionary tactic approached with
assimilation, the invisible immigrants i call them -
they're there, they always want
the dumb innocent Alexei Karamazov to marry,
but when it comes to the events via Ivan as
hidden wedlock, they want the knights of Charlemagne
to bitch-slap them silly for the crown of menopause -
i.e. what if i wasn't a woman and never wished
to be one?! freeze the ***** invoke onto me
a belittled version of ****** - you know you are neo
accomplices, and now defence from feminism will
spare you such association;
just remember why the Nazis loved science,
feminists love it too! more in the extreme -
all that's missing is the eradication of Eastern Europeans -
a fear of Russia - most feminists are in love
with the potentials of science like Nazis -
i kept my phallus in a pickle jar to prove her point
that she wanted to reign over the role of the Paraclete
as the comforter of futures to come -
god she loves the fascists - the womanisers in
feminism and the idiots that marry her -
leave her! let her utilise the full potential of a Frankenstein!
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 9:43 PM UTC
bring them slaving, bring them tailoring, harvesting and matchstick sharpening a well measured strike; i'd rather die among them than among either of these or either friendships, as might be easily counted equal should the utopian dreams be finally fulfilled - i rather hang with them than have such dreams fulfilled for a gory nice radio broadcast of: ooh ooh, here's an advert woo ah ah, monkey doodle do do do... James Bond's the name, Saharan Martinis is the game... storm me a sly cold one of those, shake the Copernicus cranium while you're at it - i.e., get the womaniser's reality straight while you're at it: flashy wristwatch chequer check check (minding the winks)... 9.30a.m.
if there is hope
in me, let me see it!
none of this
distancing as argument,
a worthwhile
read like a document's
small print; let me see it!
if i can't forget your promise
i can't make it!
let me see the small print
and cherish the pre nuptial
as an equal!
what are you now? nazis of
the female genitalia enforcing?!
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 8:12 PM UTC
blue eyes
blonde hair
makes you think
****
what's a woman like that
doing in a city like this
reminds you of times
more innocent
less crazy
before
the war
she fought against
she laughs
and i think
i don't wanna be
no womaniser
no more
kisses like sunset
at four in the afternoon
dances like a narcissist
only the best
the strong
survive
that ain't me
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 12:33 PM UTC