Love ain't nothing but sex misspelled.
quote by Harlan Ellison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If a word in the dictionary were misspelled, how would we know?
quote by Steven Wright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wined
sorry
but i misspelled it again
the wine
not the wind
taste it
it is sour.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I think I understand what military fame is; to be killed on the field of battle and have your name misspelled in the newspapers.
quote by William Tecumseh Sherman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sammy, The Nurse...
just a question,
can pink imagine pink?
you are the pink flower
miles away
blooming in the whitest
winter
supple firm pink
the centerpiece of the
earth's
feminine beauty
men can love you
in your imagination
but you telling it
is another consideration
talk about something better
the one that you love
to hold
the one that you can boast
for the night
when you are alone
with lust
talk about cliffs misspelled
about erect postures of
the coconut climber
the wine and the frog legs,
the adventures of the pink soul
do not burp.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Like This Poem
i like this poem of yours,
always unfinished, makes my imagination
run wild,
i like the words misspelled
and the lines without a period
no sense of ending
no sense of time
i like the senselessness of it all
it is so unreal
like most of us
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Failings
forgive my
eyes
again i have
misspelled
the words,
forgive my
shortcomings,
i have no time
correcting them
no time to go
back and
see how the errors
can be
redeemed,
i am in rush
but i do not actually know
what to do
or where.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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There Was A Time When I Got Drunk
there was this time when
i got drunk and looked at
myself in the mirror to
check if the image was
really mine. I stared.
I liked what was in there.
I liked to stay something, but i just
passed by.
The mirror in the
comfort room happened
to be so silent, and
i was sort of like
a word misspelled
uncorrected,
just passing by,
unhampered.
Was it really me?
How handsome could i
be when i am drunk
and lonely.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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St. Louis was dying
St. Louis was dying
Under the weight of
Lost telephones
Thrown away by
The deaf hands of
My computer speakers
The keyboard misspelled
The noon day sun
When St. Louis was dying
Under stress of crime
Thrown into the furnace fire
Where an angel was born
To save the weigh of
Telephone wires strung
Down the dirty and dingy
Alley in the back yard of
A renovated heaven
The key board of the noon day sun
Was dying under the weigh
Of a deaf tongue moved
By the speakers speaking
In a foreign language
Only understood by telephones
In the long distend night of long tongues
St. Louis is dying
Under the weigh of
Ten cent poverty
In a ten dollar year where
The furnace is stressing
Out on crime committed
In the noon day weigh
Of heaven’s back yard
Where an angel uses
The dark and dingy telephone
To call the long distend night
Heaven is dying under the weigh of
Misspelled angels dark and dingy
And lost in t he light of my computer
Where the thrown away weigh of
Poverty is spending counterfeit
Dollars worth ten cent crimes
Dying in the heaven of
The weigh of angels
Misspelling the word tongue.
poem by David E. Patton
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How Poetry May Not Be Taken Seriously
when spontaneously
a poem comes along
you grab it like a chicken
and choke it
with your usual grammatical
errors
and words not so well chosen
like a stream of erroneous
thoughts misspelled
and put out of context
and then you are too busy
to correct it
and post it right away
and then it comes back
to you when you
read it
after a while when you
come back from office
work and you
realize
the horror of
the Dracula that you made
another Frankenstein
all of them bite you
in your neck
and takes your blood
sucking them
like water.
devastating indeed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Honest Corrector...
when there is something that is missing
you supply the lapse
and i begin to develop that trust,
words are not the only non-living thing
that are misspelled,
others, who despite, their massive
experience of this
daily world,
do not know how to spell at at times
and we move in places where our heads are
marked for correction
we wear the red of errors
and nobody dares to tell us,
they just don't care at all,
with you i am safe, and no matter how
erroneous my life had been or will be,
i am secure,
you are there to correct this life,
and i go to sleep
soundly
warm inside that blanket
beside you....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Compulsion
Writers must write: They are possessed
by inner demons who insist
That they must write and they know best.
We lack the power to resist.
We have no choice we are compelled
all of our secret thoughts to share.
However random or misspelled
our inner demons do not care
Put pen to paper and compose
is their command and we obey
by writing poetry or prose.
They know we dare not disobey.
If we don’t write we know no rest.
As any writer will attest.
(11-Nov-07)
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Drums of Endoscopy
Figures are dancing in the enigmatic darkness.
Words·blushing notes,
rest in the music stave of loneliness.
Feelings keep quite· shy kids
lurk in the forest of Nothing.
Insecurity·mad sound flirts with irony-drums.
I 'am afraid of the sobs of silence tonight.
Those misspelled words
lived in melodic pages of immortality,
So...
I close the monstrous ears of Humanity...
(From the poetry collection 'Medical Press of the World'-Bulletproof Publications)
poem by Lydia Lavda Drums Poetry
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The Slant
the slant
a building settling around me
my figure female framed crookedly
in the threshold
of the room
door scraping floorboards
with every opening
carving a rough history
of bedroom scenes
the plot hard to follow
the text obscured
in the fields of sheets
slowly gathering the stains
of seasons spent lying there
red and brown
like leaves fallen
the colors of an eternal cycle
fading with the
wash cycle
and the rinse cycle
again an unfamiliar smell
like my name misspelled
or misspoken
a cycle broken
the sound of them strong
stalking talking about their prey
like the way hammer meets nail
pounding
song performed by by Ani DiFranco from Ani DiFranco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Problem With You
is that
you are too normal for a man,
what normal is, i define it
you are too formal
like a chair
there are other chair possibilities you have not tried
for instance
having only one foot
and still be proud to stand as a chair
on a chain of possibilities
the problem with you is you rhyme like their poem
and you become just like them
a factory made word
another boring mechanism
like a wooden panel without beauty
without the
aha! or
what is this? is this man? is this a chair?
is this a poem?
try something else
wobbling, whirling
a tornado, you haven't been one yet
a storm, an eye
a vacuum, an eclipse
a waste basket, a moon let
a planet, a sunrise without light?
do not just be stanza
be a word misspelled
be an error uncorrected
be a dog with feathers
a pink niche, a broken pen
an expelled meteor
a fallen angel.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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…. T E R C E S…. E H T ….
From thousand miles away my mother’s voice on the other line
Excited about something really amazing: “THE SECRET”
- My daughter you must read it, you must see it! It is Amazing!
Happy I was to hear her voice, happy and renewed.
“THE SECRET” my eyes caught over my shelf…They say Art is a recreation,
So there I kept for motivation, as for “THE SECRET” was long before my inspiration.
There she was, my mom so glad, and me too, for her. So I asked, what is it mom, that you want?
- “A Million Dollars for you my daughter”… Tired I was, as for hours awake searching for my new destination,
when time comes for my vacation,
on the phone, holding myself up to hear my mom’s voice, because happiness was hers to share…
“THE SECRET” for her probably misspelled… So I asked: Mom is that your dream for yourself?
Because my Dream is something else…
poem by Florida Angel
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Born Again
Do you or don't you want this to be your song?
It doesn't take a rebel to sing along.
This art is weak
in its pretty frame
and I am a monkey with
a misspelled name
"I'll put down you disco
and take you heart away.
I'll put down you disco
and take your heart away"
I am born again
I'm someone else
I'm someone new
I'm someone stupid just like you
I'm someone else
I'm someone new
I'm someone stupid just like you
do you or don't you want to take this hit?
Does it make you feel like you're a part of "it."
"I'll put down you disco
and take you heart away.
I'll put down you disco
and take your heart away"
I am born again
I'm someone else
I'm someone new
I'm someone stupid just like you
I'm someone else
I'm someone new
I'm someone stupid just like you
the valley of the dolls is
the valley of the dead
the valley of the dolls is
the valley of the dead
(CHORUS)
I am born again
song performed by by Marilyn Manson from Holy Wood (In The Shadow Of The Valley Of Death)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Ol Wind
She dropped her boy at school on time
One less worry on her mind
Now its off to work and on the radio
Comes an old familiar song
And then the d.j.s voice comes on
And says hes back in town tonight for one last show.
Her eyes well up with tears
God could it be its been ten years
Since that autumn night outside the county fair
When two strangers shared a night
And in the darkness found a light
That to this day is still alive and burning there.
He asked her twice to come along
They said good-bye at the break of dawn
cause you cant hold back the wind
If its meant to be again
Then someday hell find his way back to her arms.
The marquee misspelled his name
And not too many people came
But that didnt matter to them
They laughed and loved all through the night
And as they faced the morning light
They found themselves standing there again.
And he asked her twice to come along
They said good-bye at the break of dawn
As his bus left out she cried
With him standing by her side
That ol wind had once again found its way home.
Someday hell tell her about the money he hid
And someday shell tell him that the boy is his kid.
But for right now theyre both in love
The only thing theyre thinkin of
Is that theyre finally where their hearts have always been.
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Witch In The Old Castle Nearby...
as you, foolish dog of my life,
my life in utter peace, a pond of less ripples,
as you, stupid dog of my life
barks at my feet, and tries to distract my own
solitude, that of the candle still in the middle
of my room, the blankets soft on my bed,
the pillows all too silent like flower petals
on a dew filled morning leaf,
as you, twitchy wicked witch
calls my name, i finally give up and
face myself, and leave you, all cracked up,
and i go inside my room and lock my door
and tell my windows, to shut you up,
do not ruin my life, do not ever attempt to do
that which creases my blankets and
stabs my pillows,
for i shall return to you and burn your
furrowed faces, dissolve you in the acids
of my test tubes,
erase you like some misspelled words,
i am a man of peace, and i am stone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Her...
I can never get my mind off her,
I wonder if she'd mind if i'd,
make her my own,
and never let her go,
hug her tight,
treat her right,
act all polite,
take her on a date,
make sure i'm never late,
kiss her on her lips,
talk about our kids,
Make her feel like princess,
living in a castle,
hope that is not too much hassle,
But i am so blessed,
hope i can be the best,
hold you tight,
have your BR3A$t,
on my chest,
pass the test,
NOW YOUR MINE!
sorry for word spamming: (
love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love
poem by Jordan Moore
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Hey Montana
Hey Montana take your daughter back
From the bathrooms evangalist bound
She believes in destiny
Her name's always misspelled
Waitressing to pay the rent
Drinks to quell the smell
Of people breathing way too close
Folks who don't mean well
[CHORUS]
No one sees the color of your eyes
No one sees you smile
No one knows the secrets that you hide
No one sees you cry
She parks her car two blocks away
From apartment 15A
She walks with somber in her step
And scores along the way
Lose your hue you tiny thing
Dropping patron's wine
Singing to your own sad song
Two feet stuck in the mire
[CHORUS]
Hey Montana take your daughter back
It's clear she needs your care
These bustling streets are icy veins
Of a peace who snuffs her prayer
[CHORUS]
No one sees you cry
No one sees you...
Hey Montana take your daughter back
Hey Montana take your daughter back
Please Montana take your daughter back
Hey Montana take your daughter back
Bones and the truth show through...
song performed by by Eve 6
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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