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G-G-Golly W-Wally! What's this thing right here do? |
1,621 views as of 240314
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You appear to have grown tastebuds in your butt! |
I'd like to stick my vocabulary into your poetic prose. |
| An echo of music resonated in the dark. The chill of the midnight air cavorted on my cheek. The taillights ahead of us became my benchmark. Back then I was masterful, now humbly I speak. Enjoying our drug-induced mystique, we bid adieu. To the party left behind to explore a mountain trail. A carload of young men seeing yellow, red, and blue. It's clear to me now we should've been thrown in jail. The moonbeams lit up as LSD messed with my head. As rats crossed the road my delusional friends smoked weed, For hours I followed twin taillights twinkling red, Until it was obvious to see the stupidity of my deed. The sun had ascended and the glimmering was gone, Another expensive lesson realized at dawn. |
| Another morning where there is no warning Of what type of day is going down The sun is shining brightly and that's alright But that might not be enough to prevent a frown. |
| I recently read a poem written by a poet celebrated for his talent I was wowed how he used such big words to say little to nothing some people try to impress others by showing off the biggest words they know like putting on the latest style of clothes to look super cool at the disco a few years later when they look back everyone laughs at how stupid it was I'm reminded of those people at a mobile phone call center who wear suits while they answer phones so they can walk around at lunchtime pretending they're upper management |
I fell in love with apples that rot, For them, I'd give everything I've got. Whether their flesh tasted good or not. There's something about the way they squish, That makes them my most favorite dish, For a slimy black mouthful, I wish. I know they have the stink of a skunk, I'm not really a fan of their putrid funk, But I made a vow and I'm no punk. |
A single lady knows what she needs, She searches for fruit among the weeds, Judging by eye, inspection proceeds. The sightly get a rap, tap, and slap, Ones that fall flat are treated like scrap, Her skills make unclear choices a snap. Her knife slices open the tough rind, The disemboweled flesh she hopes to find, As sweet and fresh as she had in mind. |
as he wondered what love's all about she ripped into his chest and dug out his beating heart yet he stayed devout as he wondered if he were insane she rolled back his scalp, scrambled his brain yet in love with her he would remain as he wondered why she blocked his calls she made a trophy of his two balls yet only her laughter he recalls |
my fear of failure, my fear of shame I'm controlled by fear like moth to flame I fear I'm condemned to take the blame I think I feel my bleeding heart rot at the end I ask what have I got at the end I ask what have I wrought internal cuts leave internal scars I watch the world as if behind bars where I write these unmanly memoirs |
The temperature is hot, I'm cold. I'm needy as a newborn, I'm old. Provide a better option, I'm sold. If someone adores my poems, I'm glad. If someone prefers to fight, I'm sad. If someone hates our country, I'm mad. If you love me for a laugh, I'll cry. If you stretch out a hand, I'll try. If you offer me your heart, I'll buy. |
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