"zepplin" poems
I like to be alone
when i’m alone I think a lot about you
and it hurts
It’s an emptiness feeling
it starts in my stomach then leads to my feet
they become cold
strangers we are
but we have known each other for longer then we have even known ourselves
your silhouette will be with me always
for times when i'm alone
and I regret not speaking up
I regret not making myself known
my feet are cold
do you feel empty too?
do you think about me when you’re alone?
do you miss the way you’ve never felt?
we will meet again
and this time
i’ll speak up
because we will always have led zepplin
and quiet spaces
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
tight silk ******* with the lilac bra to match,
cream coloured knee high socks.
a collection of classic rock on vinyl and a compliments jar covered in news articles.
too many celebrity perfumes, but a versace collection that makes her think of the beach;
peach smelling deoderant.
chapter books on the floor accompanied by hair ribbons of baby blue and cotton candy pink,
****** by Vladimir Nabokov laying near the juvinile pale legs of beautiful sixteen,
as she paints each toe nail red, pink, white.
almost naked body, remember her tight, fresh lace set
hair perfectly auburn, lips perfectly light coral
mouth slightly open
Led Zepplin playing.
hairspray and rose powder,
unlit vanilla candles and twilight scented creams
she smells faintly of Modern by Banana Repulic and her daddy's cigarettes.
silently waving, a flag of patriotism
the beautiful, elegant sixteen.
-part 1
conceptcollection
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC
I am sorry
We shared those words today
I no longer worry about the shade of our hands
Come Dawn
Love still connects us
Bridge building is slow
Worth while to the persistent
To the patient
Compromise
We are not compatable through
Religion. Philosophy. The Soul.
However, for us, music still stands
Classic rock and 70's disco fever
High pitched BeeGee's
Crooning Zepplin while deer watching
That connection alone binds us
Much less the love of mountains
Cold lungs on frosty mornings
Hunting for dinner with bow, with arrow
I have missed you
Wasted time stretched between us
No longer
Happy Father's Day
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 6:32 PM UTC
1.
Swirls of golden smoke rose slowly from my blazing coffee *** The dusty car at a distance slithered and crawled up the winding road. Sitting in the shack I watched the sand snaking its way up, keeping pace with the car and pelting it with sand particles as if it held a grudge against the driver. I had planned to go dune bashing but for the ominous tone of the desert.
2.
The next day morning remnants of what the desert spat out, the sand particles consume me. I am cloaked with gloves of voluminous dust. I take another sip of coffee. The pungent aroma of the milieu and coffee leaves me breathless. The greens are choked and there is sand art on pavements outside.
3.
I try to remove the sand on my hair as I wipe the aurulent sheen on the window pane. A bunch of men wipes the dust from the tables and chairs in the opposite shack. An old dusty car crawls to a halt and parks, blaring the music of Led Zepplin.
Jan 16, 2021
Jan 16, 2021 at 11:36 AM UTC
To Em
I’ve been tryin to send you letters for the longest time now
But they’ve got me movin
Bed to bed
Hospital to hospital
Everything is dirt here
They say Im gonna lose both my legs, Em
Truth is I’m scared
I’m far away from home
In this ****** jungle
And I’m just trying to survive
I don’t wanna die Em
I wanna see you so bad. I Know
This is all a dream and in a minute Ill wake up
And you’ll be layin there next to me warm
Your hair all soft on my face
I can smell your perfume
Teardrops
Tell me Em that your waitin for me
That I ain’t comin home alive
For you
And you ain’t there
Em, your my life
Your my angel
Savin me from all of this
I lay here and listen to full grown men cry and beg for death
Men screamin for their mommas
Teardrops
I lay here quiet with my pillow over my head just dreamin about you
Bout us
In my bedroom wakin up in the morning cause the dog wont shutup and has to ***
And I can just get up and let him out
I just wanna walk on the grass in the front yard
Inside your wearin my Led Zepplin shirt just smiling at me standin out there like a fool
I just wanna hear the dogs bark down the street again
I just wanna see my room
**** in my own toilet
Sleep in my own bed
Brush my teeth in my own sink
And for ******* christ’s sake take a shower
I think about you all the time Em
And if I die
I promise no matter how bad it hurts
Ill be thinkin bout you
Takin me to heaven
Kissin me on my shoulder. Huggin me on my neck
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 10:55 AM UTC
Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up
And not be us anymore?
Just sit and drink some coffee
And talk about the war
Perfectly mundane folks
Without a care beyond the debt
No need to be profane folks
Concerned with only death
Wouldn't it be nice if we could grow up
And be us in some other way?
Just rock out to some Zepplin
And smoke our cares away
Perfectly mundane folks
No worries but the rent
No need to be ashamed folks
Beaten, broken, all regret
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 3:34 AM UTC
Baddie brains blown out hick-up pick up picky pick up lines hirried stubbling drained from the gum. Yes tis gum from the stuomuch that you swallowed for month because I just loved the way you ***** *** I'm sick.
I puked.
I puked?
I started runnning the walts of Conan the quenched dominator beefing with minny mouse for spanking mickey. He sipps mickeys just so you know I'm holy dust, sike. I wish I washed my mouth month before I ate the groomed flappy fingered fizzathered lips of Haley Jade. I wish I had a ****** **** Nut after nut and after this nut another nut and a nut a then the knux cause she got the **** crumbling runs rinse me in Faygo cause these Jugglalos have hair I love to get the stow in jars from a far, because I farted. Beanie I ******* farting who started this ******** fricken flame flare Jack Keoroac couldn't spit enough spirts to-at-alley trickling pink pavement funds that freed Zepplin.
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 4:49 PM UTC
Old age is
when the balloon
you tugged on as the kid
was a Led Zepplin
and when the sabbath came around
you didn't
know who you're mom was or is
and Floyd did not cook
just made some really great sounds
t-rex was not a dinosaur
but danced around in furs
and the status quo
was just three cords.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 2:46 PM UTC