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Pieces of me
thrown away
like trash
Never consulted
Never asked
The direct result
of another’s conviction
or more commonly seen
consequences
from blind ambition

Paranoid
The fix is in
But no invitation
for me,
former me
or forever me
and all of my imitations
beset by my
limitations

Forwardly I lean
step in between
lines upon lines
hidden;
can’t be seen
Falling ill
Now trapped
by its machine
And from my vein;
My blood I spill

A still surface
with sticky sheen
amber tones
from which
I glean
a reason
Thrilled
What it might mean
A hunger
that
can not be filled

Nothing but lies
giving me chills
A shell
with values
not instilled
Instead
it’s dread
Their words
I’m fed
"Nutrients"
to fill my head

My outer skin
Its layer
thin
Not to attacks
No single act
or prayer
could patch
and fill it in
A hole
that’s black
is my first sin

A game
in which
no way to win
and no ending
once it
begins
With opened eyes
commence to see
The dorsal fins
surrounding me

Head starts
to spin
What could have been?
It doesn't matter
in the end
because
there's nothing
here for me
A demon-like reality

Where what you seek
Placed at your feet
The icing; sweet
Choices; not three
Have cake or eat
One choice not two
But want to eat
and have it too

All efforts
to retrieve the treat;
An outcome that
ends in defeat
A princess swept
off of her feat
But this feature
princess;
a creature
Spirit of
a soulless seeker

Deceitful speaker
Flames;
he’ll eat ya
Offers pain
Can’t heal;
life drained
Then reaching out
to use
life-line
but with each ring
hope further wanes

An answered call
done just in time
The chills
running all down my spine
Stand tall
just like Douglas-fir pine
With racing thoughts
filling my mind
I will be saved
Free from it all
God must exist
No time to stall
In battle
warriors
may fall
but no man's ever left behind

Only to find
With said spent dime
A dynamite kind of answer
-
A type
that might
cause strife
Can't plan for
Needed answer
Plight
like cancer
New chance to live
Worldly romancer
On planet Earth
A tiny dancer

A romantic thought
to think
fight fought
Instead a sinking ship
just dropped
This life?
If could
an ‘OUT’
would opt
No more
can take
Just make
it stop
Written: April 17, 2018

All rights reserved.
ZL May 2014
I have crushes
because I am unable
to commit.
I can pick up affairs
and when I'm tired,
I quit.

I have crushes
because I am an obessessive
romancer.
I am infected with lust
which always spread
like cancer.

I have crushes
because I have yet
to fall in love
yet lucky enough
to have my heart
broke into two.

I could never love you wholly
this is why I 'crush' on you.
Andrew Parker Jan 2014
City Lights SLAM POETRY
1/21/2014

Look momma,
out the airplane window.
There's city lights,
they're pretty,
but what they really mean you wouldn't know.
Las Vegas, ain't it beautiful though.

But oh, you see,
the city captures me
and keeps me held up at night
lacking fright
as the city sees my drunken might.

Because sometimes I get a little lonely,
and sometimes I wander.
But most times it's irrelevant,
I'm just the big purple elephant,
in the room,
that nobody wants you to see.
Because that side of me,
is in you just as much as in me.

Just wonder, have a little wander,
View tomorrow fonder,
maybe we'll strike thunder,
or settle for down under,
the ****** dancer,
make your moves romancer.
Tell me it's the season,
but you don't need a reason,
to put your body out there,
feel the warmth of cold stares.

You see it's these city lights,
they keep me trapped in the night
of Las Vegas,
And I know it sounds heinous,
but please could you come save us
from the city lights,
before they eat us tonight.

So maybe
we could go somewhere
Save our money
get the hell outta here.
Instead we stare
into those city lights,
oh so pretty.
Oh so mesmorizing,
oh so ******* gorgeous.

He'll take your wallet,
pick your pocket,
kick your door in,
though you locked it,
take your money,
you're in need
not just of some
but of everything
that's not in Las Vegas,
but we're not that shameless, are we?

Sometimes we do things,
we don't want the world to know,
Sometimes I think,
I'm my own private show,
with the freak side attraction,
maybe get reaction
split a fraction to know
that one *** and another ***
don't make a rake
just a couple flakes
that fall down
that fall down
that fall down
and break,

under these city lights
I don't think we can make
it out of here alive.
We just crumble,
and slip through the cracks,
as we try to survive,
can't work a 9 to 5,
because we're lazy
and we do drugs
and we hate stuff
and we have ***
and we **** up
my life
ain't it nice
to live in Las Vegas
and see the city lights?
as they keep me trapped in the night?

Until I die,
Nothing leaves Las Vegas huh?
Have any of you seen the movie Leaving Las Vegas?
You should because it's famous,
not just because Nick Cage is,
but because his character was nameless,
or might as well been,
could you tell me
more than just his story?
Of a washed up, pathetic alchie and a *******?
His name was Ben Sanderson,
but that's not the point you're still missing.
His character was based on a real person,
At first I thought his name was John O'Brien,
the writer of the novel,
who shot himself.
But we dig a little deeper,
and find this message steeper
than we had imagined,
the real victim's been hidden,
in plain sight,
under these city lights.

*******, druggie, you don't know what I see,
on that airplane,
through the window
there's just something
that don't show,
but it's in the spotlight
of these city lights,
it's those people,
dying while still alive,
alcohol in their arteries,
could be you
and could be me,
trapped in the night,
by these city lights,
but you'd never know,
because what happens in Vegas,
stays in Vegas,
but they don't tell you why,
it's these city lights that keep us alive.
We need them to struggle to survive.
This is my first Poetry SLAM piece.
Brielle Byrne Jul 2014
Terminally ill,
infected with lust
curiosity and nerves.
Spreading like a virus,
your words crawl deep
into my veins.
Tongue numb,
lungs struggle
in the midst of this plague.

Embedded in my marrow,
festering in my throat
enclosed by bones,
guarded by ribs

The ache won’t leave, and I’m starting to wonder,
if my chest cavity is better off empty.
mike May 2013
one undead sed to one too undead: "id **** for a romancer whos a necromancer."
    Well, abracadabra with just an ounce of my magic
i produce half a cadavre and then the other half grab it and shake it until it blabbers:
"well im awake but id rather be underground with dead matter."
and though ive never been sadder i had to grab her and stab her a thousand times in such patterns
that all was left were mere tatters, talk about beaten and battered as all the pieces were scattered
(i made em smaller and flatter til they looked good so i blabbered):
                                              "you look amazing"- "im flattered"
she sed but that didnt matter. im just a ****** whos madder than Hell oh well whats it matter
the feelings of a mad hatter madder than other mad hatters collaboratively dont matter
in fact the maddest just happens to have had all his dreams shattered.
evacuate bowels and bladder. souls eaten, demons get fatter, eternal state of dead palar,
dying in Hell, almost had her. *******.
Alysia Marie Nov 2014
You be the beauty

And I'll be the beast

I'll try to sweep you off your feet

Tho the rolls might be reversed

I promise I won't be perverse

You're just the one I've been searching for

Watching you dance across the floor

You'll grip my hand perfectly tight

You know I only have one night

Until that rose wilts and dies

Then I'll forever be living this lie

When those petals fall to the floor

You won't love me anymore

For I'll be trapped inside of a body unkind

Washing away your blissful mind

I'll take your hand but you'll turn away

If I only had the chance to say

and prove to you the lies that have been;

The outside that this body forbids

So go be the beauty

I'll still be the beast

And when I sweep you off your feet

We'll dance until this world subsides

We wont have to worry about those lies

Even when that flower wilts away

I'll want nothing more than for you to stay

And see me for the true romancer to be

The one that steals your heart;

You'll see

                                               Alysia Marie 2014 ©
Brendan Watch May 2014
Maybe it was fate in the threads of that
skirt as short as temper and temperance
that ended the ellipsis breathing.
A dancer needs an answer
on life enhancers, dear romancer.
Your smile was more than good enough.
I drank of it, the cup of Christ that turned
my blood into whining moments of
insecurity.
Call security, you say, making the call on
what I am because I am transparent,
transdimensional, traversing the bridge
of your nose with my high-risk eyes.
You say that I am, and they cry.
As your hands ticked at your clock-click keyboard,
I waited, passed the time wondering the
difference between naive and navel.
Harm came like rain in winter, the words
of Zephyrus slipping from between those
amber lips, lithe on naked fingertips.
You take the names of gods in vain,
into your veins, let them convert only
the white blood cells. You'd crucify
me for vanity.
You accuse the recluse of abuse,
and it suits you, tailored because
hatred sized you up the moment you met.
The orchestra disbanded, the buds of May
have yet to burst, yet to blossom like you
say you always will,
but the spring in your step when
you walk away from the last word
tells me more than the chirping birds
nesting in your hair.
You remind me of Paris
on the walls of Troy,
thief of hearts and fool indeed.
Bringer of fire, brander of hell,
but only because you were already the
Tartarus Employee of the Month and
enjoying Elysium.
This is the
beautiful mystery
undone as her clothes and
naked as the day Rosemary Matron gave her
to the world.
This is the beautiful mystery
returned to voids as tangled as her hair,
the nonspace between the curls hiding
secrets and conviction.
This is the beautiful mystery
concluded, all the movements of
her symphonic body no longer to allure.
This is the beautiful mystery
answered, the riddle of the Sphinx
leaping from the pillar, a killer
not quite so strong as her eyes.
This is the beautiful mystery
laid to rest, buried alive in a life discarded.
This is good-bye.
An answer to my nearly year old "Beautiful Mystery" poem, which won hearts for far longer than its subject matter cared to keep mine.
Brendan Watch May 2013
Were you always a killer,
commendable, expendable
secret agent girl?
Were you always a dancer, entrancer,
Irene Adler, romancer,
secret agent girl?
Were you smart or kind of heart,
lover of art, playing your part.
secret agent girl?
Were you feared or revered,
a pioneer of weird,
secret agent girl?
Were you a dream, beauty supreme,
eyes all agleam, more than you seemed,
secret agent girl?
Who lost you, tossed you
and at what cost due,
secret agent girl?

When did they rob you of your glory,
rewrite author, title, story,
secret agent girl?
Where did they take you, break you,
make you into something new,
secret agent girl?
Are you Cold War fossil lost in time,
too young to be old, past no prime,
secret agent girl?
Beneath the earth, above the sky,
not allowed to cry, to die, are you,
secret agent girl?
Who were you before your halo cracked,
before the fact, your devil's pact,
secret agent girl?
I'll kiss you, miss you,
this bliss is amiss,
secret agent girl.
It's time to go, leave me alone,
you broken hero,
secret agent girl.
Brendan Watch May 2014
Pity party, pity poison,
pity is pretty *******
at your Pompadour proposition, your Pompeii proposal.
The judge and jury blame  your execution;
you thought the tri in matrimony meant three
in love when it really meant that you're the third wheel.
You hoped I'd kiss and tell in your world of wedding bells.
Go to hell.
You smiled as you beguiled with false feminine wiles the
boy of miles and miles away, hoping that he might stay
with you instead of her.
Well, this is his answer, and, dear failed romancer,
you won't get that last dance.
Her love was pretense in past tense,
events not recorded in your history book hips.
Ah, a novel idea: you, John Green with envy,
tried to bend me to your whim.
Tried, but your pride died when I sighed
and said that I loved her, so you booked it
from the floor and seemed gone forevermore,
a footnote in the lore until you...turned into a *****,
came to me and said that you loved me more.
That is wrong.
Strike the gong.
This is a correction.
Your insurrection of our connection turned
affection into an infection,
and don't interrupt with your **** interjection--
were you expecting an *******?
Because you're getting a rejection,
so keep your confection objection to yourself.
You hoped to trace my face, take first place or third base,
leave no space for even lace, and half of lace is empty space.
I should have brought mace.
You are jelly in a jam, so your ham-****** attitude
led the lamb of love to slaughter;
the s leads laughter on, standing for ***
(check male or female),
stimulation, squabble, ****, ****, sext--
a wrecked relationship sinking, sinking,
and being nearer, my ******* God, to thee
makes me sick between my bulkhead bones.
The iceberg of your persistence
puts up its last resistance,
but it melts, melts, melts, in water hot as hell.
Is it not plain as you the pain you put me through?
You, with two left feet, hope I'll cheat the day we meet
on the girl who was your friend, and you've done this
once before.
Your dainty hopes that you could go two for two
with hearts and minds disgusts, and your lust broke my trust,
and I must, must, must ring the bells.
Class dismissed. I hope you've learned.
For the one who tried to steal.
Emi Apr 2019
Dizzy feeling
Staring at the ceiling
Cool and white
Could it feel my spite
Try to Speak
Words come out so bleak
Running for the door
Both feet escape the cold floor
Fresh air
To keep me from ripping out my hair
Breathing begins to quicken
I’m starting to feel sick and
Helpless once again
Go outside
Trying to hide
In the moonlight
No happiness in sight
Climbing into the pool
Feeling like such a fool
Cool, yet warm water surrounds me
I think of the sea
Begging for an answer
To stop being such a hopeless romancer
Needing a sign
Before deciding it’s time
To give it all away
No one left to beg me to stay
Needing a sign
This can’t be my time
This can’t be my last day
A shooting star says stay
I do
Didn’t have a clue
I stayed
Another part from my memoir for school.
mark john junor Apr 2018
Egalitarians of a smaller world
with forks for fingers
chew loudly on the gravy train
of poor boys paper thin paychecks
spit me out cause I got no cash
better to be on the street with
a shoeless shuffle
than trying to capture a seat
at the silver spoon table....

Pasty-faced bankers counting out loud
the graves of American dreams they spoiled
the song of their voices in unison
is a terrible dirge and a
strange romancer that keeps
one and all clinging to that sweetest of dreams
hope....

Dudley Do Right is a little man
in his little office
acting like the bureaucrat he was born to be
just pennies on the pound for his cold soul
a deadeye wrangler six shooter bang bang
his heart a cardboard cutout of his childhood idol
deadeye wrangler six shooter bang bang

all these flavorless fools
pay to play on the great machine
where the crowds call for ever more
salacious parody of what should be
where the almighty buck stops here
twice a day
all day Sunday
preacher man
baker, solider, liar, thief
deadeye wrangler six shooter bang bang
deadeye wrangler six shooter bang bang

© 2018 mark john junor all of my poems are my
exclusive property and all rights are reserved
Oh, Necromancer
Ill bore you to sleep
Jus' to hear you weep in your dreams
I guess I have nothing much to say
Jus' call me after I leave
oh,necromancer put a spell on me
kisses so sweet they rot my teeth
Drifton A Way Oct 2013
Is she just a distraction
Or is she an answer
Divide her into fraction
Slippery wet romancer

Better take some action
And remove that cancer
Make a precise extraction
Rejuvenating life enhancer

Water, sun, aghast rejoice, life begins to grow
Times so very fast yet motions are fairly slow
Shall thy spark last, will my eyes stay aglow
Will memories be made, for all of thee to know

When memory will fade, will she still show
Crave what's forbade and all the love below
No thoughts can jade the debt to life we owe
All dues are paid, now get in line for life row
May rest be laid, with dreams from long ago
EmperorOfMine Nov 2018
Let I lie with my hopes duly.
Rested in an assurance that I will be found by an ally of fondness.
Pondering to a multitude of angles.
Stranded in just a brink of a nightmare.
May I awaken from this perpetual slumber.
Covet a warm heart of studious and charm before me in attraction.
Lest there be another death to the fall of this curse.
Cursed in miserable repetition, a pattern of repulsions and rejections.
A bane to my heart, parching its ever-yearning desire.
Neverending torture binding my soul in solitude.
Does there remain a path free of this maze?
Won't there be a light to lead the way to freedom?
No one could settle in a course without expiration leading bitter.
A youthful vessel grounded in the rootless sea of brought by time.
Flowing it may be, may it lead my wavering hope into a full victory.
Helen Sep 2015
Anticipation begins
With a slow hungry beat
Whispered words surge towards
Two hearts that will soon meet
Sweet sounds are plucked
By the merest soft brush
The tune is full
The music is lush
My heart beats in time
To the rhythm you set
You’re a fine musician
Your music I will not forget
Your fingertips move
Like a tribal dancer
You lure, a seducer
A primal romancer
Desire sings in my blood
My body is not immune
You play me like a fine instrument
But I’m loving the tune
The crescendo is all fire
The rhythm is strong
As the last note is fading
I crave the next song

26/07/2010
eileen Feb 2019
I'm a lot of things
yes I am a liar
10w
Stacey L May 2013
White translucent ribbons
Floating in front of my eyes
And all that lies

Transports me to another world
An illusion of a better one, I believe.
And, I'm afraid I'd rather not leave.

You're a captivator,
a dancer
And a romancer

Sometimes I'm afraid your enchantment
will drive me to an unhealthy mentality
full of unforgotten fallacy.

But already
you have me on strings
dancing like I've got wings

Your language
speaks to me in a melody
one of serenity.

Sink into my mind,
drag into your black hole,
sink into my soul.
Onoma Mar 2017
Unskilled romancer of moods...

bruised like a plumb from

false starts--fumbling, falling

into graces...whose?

Some bright-bulbed

peanut gallery staring at you

from the rears of their minds.

Watching you cartoonishly swept

off your feet by cosmic record skips.

The cavities of your features filling

with shadows, as if touched up for

your variations on danse macabre.
m Jan 2019
love love dove
the dove fell far
love love dove
burned to a char

craven craven raven
again rose a star
craven craven raven
picked at your scar

vain vain crane
full of empty words
vain vain crane
of the foolish birds

wail wail quail
a dying creed
well well quail
a time to bleed

a time that ends
the pain of past
a wound that mends
has been passed

i cannot lie
the pain i felt
with our goodbye
oh i could melt

i'm truly sorry
about the necromancer
the love which you gave
to the poor romancer

were you brought
back from the dead?
if so, then please
live and not dread

look on and not dread
the memories
that your mind must tread
got the lucky opportunity to read some poems i'd never seen by you
sorry i read them
i hope that the necromancy worked. maybe you can consider the necromancer the person who just helped you rise up and move forward...
i felt like writing a ****** poem what can i say
Marie-Niege Mar 2015
Everyone writes about coffee
The embedded love
The innate passion
That’s brewed strong
That’s filtered long
Everyone talks about coffee and love
Everyone compares coffee to love
Everyone forgets its natural taste
Everyone forgets its bitter taste
Its rancid lingerance
Its putrid flavor
Everyone forgets to write about coffee creamer
The artificial sweetener
The true romancer
another oldie
Tori Edwards Jun 2014
There's a rainbow
in the grey clouds
Where hidden far beyond
is an Opal shaped
burning red sun

Like an artist
you are a dark romancer
With brown eyes
that haunt me in my sleep still

Your initials ark inked
into my skin
With one foot forward
and craving a grave
To lay this to rest

Changing faces
and teeth that gleam
You are a shifter
so shift to the beat

Behind grey skies
I hear an angels voice
she whispers your name
As I ride the rainbow
to the shallow depths
of my grave
Joel Hayward Apr 2017
Uselessly I watched you
glide with her
holding her tightly
while she sank into your embrace

You drew her breath
made her heart race
placed a hand upon her shoulder

It hurt

You cast me a you-can't-do-anything glance
and I winced at how light-footed you are

It was obvious
you have done this often
thief with a devilish grin
crusher of hopes

When you left with your arm around her
you looked back smugly
You're used to getting what you want
Your gloating broke me

I curse you cancer
brutal romancer
irresistible lover
****** good dancer
the inner child has ambitions
to portray those many renditions*
these dreams are as propositions
lifelong missions, lifelong missions

reaching beyond the realms of space
discovering new grounds to trace
all found in a romancer's place
adult this race, adult this race

youthful reverie taking flight
seizing the huge visions of night
an objective that brings such light
*brilliant insight, brilliant insight
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
The smells of lilacs, hyacinths A+ grade
Singing Sade smooth operator
A Bed money growing on the tree
in her shade
Fifty shades darker pick your lover
And know who is the shady mentor

We got enhanced our bodies
like the prancer the globetrotter
Flaming heats he's the romancer

In trance-like money commodities
So hooked on a feeling, her bedroom eyes
The hot velocity eyes set to the sunset
tranquility
uncontrollably, Colliegable. sometimes
unbearable, you could read her
French Provential
bed of the Constable

His food like rich money for the soul for
his taking she is the loving so able
A-Bed saleable but
very innocently gullible under rulable

Seeing the Oak trees cherry blossoms so feasible
The sponsors  and teachers of the  Princeton University
their beds were racing minds Einstein like Cougars'

The shades of her lips raced his money abed
Like Truman said Romeo and Julliete lovers
You all attend this Gala or the jokes on you Ha Ha
She felt like the Medusa head on the side of her bed
The stars moon Luna Bleu she was the coolest
of them all

Going to the ball what a head start to lie abed
like a loaf of soda bread the fairest of them all
The revolution led to a disaster up ahead
She loves to drink in her ladybug mug abed
He was the slug a dug like two men in a
Volkswagen yellow Bug

New Abode 777 lucky hicks of the road
Sticks and stones won't break her
bed bones
Her money abed Apple I phones
Her spyware secret agent ****** tunes
Became a showroom
New York City hot fun in a bed event
What did Confucius say
The British Colony

Money ABed it wasn't payday
Without the money no company

The Budha insight
After hours all A-Bed hell of a night
Lullaby Lula Belle the dictator came
Seeing Antionette with her tea ***** set
The State trooper the day tripper
Overnight A-Bed traveler looper
What a commutator acts like the
green alligator Grecian times
Chariots and Titans
Purple passion the
liaison his name is Devlon
This wasn't a cosmetic mistake
like Revlon strangers in the bed
Like a head of the lettuce seedy felon
Skin peachy clean like a melon
The Estee Lauder dictator
Attention Riveria head beaded bed
For the Queen of Sicily
Borghese bewildered like a pony
The platter of cheese Gromit

Or going to the Estate sale for all
the Kingsmen **** it
The money jars of Mason
by his water (ABed Bitcoins)
The holy water he got thirsty
Mighty high bed of the mutiny
Humphrey Bogart here's looking
at you kid and well fed
What looms ahead
Those wedding bells
She said I rather stay in my
Feminine Flower
Tulip A-MEN Bed

Her key to the trunk treasure bed
She bunked into God her virginity lifted
the gravity of her sexuality
Her cheeks came alive
like a  plum pie
Money A-Bed to be wed
This is about A-BED what was said the better insight late in your bed your face turned really red all in a rollercoaster ride Coney Island Robins way. Money always talks and rumors spread give me Peanut butter Jelly sandwiches instead
Jonny Angel Mar 2014
My babe is the sexiest kitten I know,
she's meeker than a lamb & bolder than a lion,
there's no denying, she's tastes like the sweetest ****,
captures my heart with everything she does,
I feel her genuine love for me,
all the time.

I'd be lying if I told you she was mean,
there's not a single bone like that in her body.
She's never shoddy, she dresses to the hilt.
From her birthday suit to her tight fittin' jeans,
everything about her is so doggone cute.

She's a romancer & a fantastic dancer,
the way she moves is smooth like butter,
her undulations are exquisite & exotic,
she wins all the awards for being ******,
nope, definitely not neurotic,
yep, hypnotic.

Oh sure, she can cook & sew & keep a clean home, but she's so much more than all of that.
She knows what you need to know about motors & tools & paint & plumbing & guns, too.

I dream about her a lot,
know how supercool she is,
she's so much fun when
she comes alive
out of the lonely
recesses of my mind,
day and night.

I never miss her kisses,
'cause I just make them up
& whenever I want another,
there's no reason to fight her,
she smothers me with a lot of them.

— The End —