I think of poets as outlaw visionaries in a way.
quote by Jim Jarmusch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Outlaw Poetry?
outlaw poetry?
poets walkin' outside the law,
spewing bloodstained words,
painting the picture they see,
they feel, they live...
talkin' truth in the age
of propaganda...
holding the raw, beating hearts
of those in need...
with trembling hands,
and jaws set firm....
standing in the face of the roar,
fighting against all odds.
outlaw poetry?
hell no! outlaw ignorance!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Outlaw
(coverdale/lord/marsden)
When I left my home
I was not much more than a child,
My mother started crying
She knew that I was born to be wild
cos I was looking for the bright lights of the big city,
A red hot town where the girls are pretty
I took to the highway,
Chasing my dream down the line
Heading out for trouble,
Never finding my peace of mind
cos I been run out of town so many times before
An usually kind of places where I cant go back no more
Outlaw - born outside of the law,
Just another outlaw,
Man on the run will always take chances for fun
I never find it easy trying to keep the feeling alive,
Ive always been a dreamer,
Dreamers find it hard to survive
When theyre living in the bright lights of the big city,
A red hot town where the girls are pretty
Outlaw - born outside of the law,
Just another outlaw,
Man on the run will always take chances for fun
Outlaw - born outside of the law,
Just another outlaw,
Man on the run will always take chances for fun
Outlaw - born outside of the law,
Just another outlaw,
Man on the run will always take chances for fun
Born outside of the law,
Just another outlaw,
Man on the run will always take chances for fun
Outlaw, outlaw,
Man on the run will always take chances for fun
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Poets and Bad Poets
Some poets get awards and think they are good poets.
Some poets never get awards and think they are bad poets.
Some poets think they are good poets only in their own mind
Some poets think they are bad poets in somebody's else mind.
Some poets think they are good poets in somebody else mind.
Some poets think others think they are good poets but they don't in their hearts.
Some poets think they are good poets in their hearts but not in anyone else's mind.
All are insecure, except those who get security from the opinions of others and that, alas, doesn't last and isn't real.
Some poets have left the entire scene and live only in their mind.
Some poets take criticism and don't mind.
Some poets avoid criticism and do mind.
Some poets write poetry to get love.
Some poets love to write poetry.
Some poets are ahead of their time, in their mind
Some poets spend a lifetime feeling like failures in their mind
Some poets live only after they die.
Some poets have much to say but can't articulate
Some poets retreat, believing others don't understand
So which one of these am I?
I guess I am all of these and none of these
and no matter what my description
I intend to keep doing what I do:
Write. Right
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Outlaw Man
I am an outlaw, I was born an outlaws son
The highway is my legacy
On the highway I will run
In one hand Ive a bible
In the other Ive got a gun
Well, don you know me
Im the man who won
Woman dont try to love me
Dont try to understand
A life upon the road is the life of an outlaw man
First left my woman, it was down in santa fe
Headed for oklahoma, I was ridin night and day
All of my friends are strangers,
They quickly come and go
And all my loves in danger,
cause I steal hearts and souls
Woman, dont try to love me
Dont try to understand a life upon the road is the life of an outlaw man
Oo....
Woman, dont try to love me
Dont try to understand
A life upon the road is the life of an outlaw man
Some me call me abel,
Some men call me cain,
Some men call me sinner, lord
Some men call me saint
Some say theres a jesus
Some men say there aint
When you got no life to lose
Then theres nothin left to gain
Outlaw man
Outlaw man
song performed by by Eagles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the world of poetry there are would-be poets, workshop poets, promising poets, lovesick poets, university poets, and a few real poets.
quote by James Broughton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A cowboy
A
cowboy on the run
with his big forty four gun
running from the law running
from something he has done
the life of an outlaw isn't much fun
riding in the blazing hot sun
when they asked him why he did it
he said I don't know
we both drew our guns
but he was to slow
the life of an outlaw isn't much fun
riding in the blazing hot sun
now that you caught me I know
I will hang
the life of an outlaw isn't much fun
you took my gun
and tomorrow I will be
hung
poem by Art Kuttler
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Outlaw
I'm a stranger in town and my guns never cold
I'm a gambler so bet on your life
You'll never live to grow old
I deal in lead I won't step aside
Where trouble's waitin well so am I
I live for the fight the thrill of the kill
Paid in gold for the blood I spill
Outlaw outlaw outlaw ride
Into the West a gun by your side
Hell and glory honor and pride
A gun will decide where the outlaws ride
The law of the West was the law of the gun
Shoot and be fast live on the run
Stay alive be fast on the draw
Live by the gun or die by the law
Outlaw outlaw outlaw ride
Into the West a gun by your side
Hell and glory honor and pride
A gun will decide where the outlaws ride
Shot through the heart in the blink of an eye
Buried up on boot hill
Life is cheap when the bounty is high
So be ready to kill
The law of the West was the law of the gun
Shoot and be fast live on the run
Stay alive be fast on the draw
live by the gun or die by the law
Shot of whisky I'll be on my way
Back in the saddle pull on the reins
Spurs to the beast over the hill
Another town one more kill
Outlaw outlaw outlaw ride
Into the West a gun by your side
Hell and glory honor and pride
A gun will decide where the outlaws ride
song performed by by Manowar from Louder Than Hell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballad Of Jesse James
Well dont you want to climb a mountain
yeah, dont you want to ride the river
drink from a magic fountain
give your woman all the love that you can give her
well dont you want to be an outlaw
dont you want to ride the range
dont you want to be an outlaw children
just like jesse, like jesse james
well now dont you want to swim the ocean
dont you want to climb the highest tree
drink some of momma's lovin' potion
get your woman till she just cant see
dont you want to be an outlaw
just a poor boy out on the skids
dont you want to be an outlaw children
just like billy, just like billy the kid
well now billy he was a bad boy, he won the wild west
by the year of 21, as many notches on his gun
but someone laid him to an early rest
dont you want to climb a mountain
dont you want to ride the river
drink from a magic fountain
give your woman all the love that you can give her
dont you want to be an outlaw
dont you want to ride the range
dont you want to be an outlaw children
just like jesse
guitar solo
Jesse he was a bad boy, he won the wild west
as many notches on his gun as the years of 21
but someone laid him to an early rest
dont you want to climb a mountain
dont you want to ride the river
drink from a magic fountain
give your woman all the love that you can give her
dont you want to be an outlaw
dont you want to ride the range
dont you want to be an outlaw children
just like jesse, like jesse james
well dont you want to be an outlaw
dont you want to be an outlaw
just like jesse, just like jesse, just like jesse james
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different.
quote by T.S. Eliot (1920)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0005 Totally Boring Poem
I’m totally bored by:
poems that sound like other poems
poems that try to sound unlike any other poems
poets who never take risks
poets who think that taking risks
makes them good poets
poems with 'meaning'
poems with no meaning
poets who slag off other poets
as if that achieves something
poets that tell you that rhyme
is not for an age but for all time
poets that tell you that rhyme is outmoded and boring
poets who think that the poetry of 'the past'
is greater than that of 'the present'
poets who think that the poetry of 'the present'
is greater than that of 'the past'
poems that tell you the poet's the first to discover sex
poets that tell you they’re the best sex you’ll ever have
although you’ll never meet them to find out
poets that tell you they’ve been dumped
poets who've never known love and being dumped
poets who are ambitious
poets who are unambitious
poets who tell you all about higher things
poets who reject higher things
poets who think life’s just a joke
poets who think life’s no joke
poets who sit on the fence
poets who have no sense of balance
poets who despise 'the middle ground'
poets who talk about technique
poets with no technique
poets who just throw down their thoughts
poets who 'work up' their poems to a self-satisfied polish
poets who list what they like (who cares?)
poets who list what don’t like (who cares?)
poets who write about extreme states
poets who think they’re immune to extreme states
poets who tell you why they’re bored
poets who have opinions
poets who seem to have no opinions at all
poets who have boring opinions to air - why choose poetry?
poets who comment on others' poems
as if it's the last word
poets who never bother to comment
on others' poems
poets who don't love poetry passionately
poets who tell you they 'love poetry passionately'
poets who – oh I’m too bored to go on reading this,
how about you?
I suppose you have boring opinions too?
another time perhaps
and oh yes I'm most of all bored by
those who waste their precious time on this earth
being bored
well I feel better for that.
how about you?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We As Poets
We as poets must command a sacred accent over a language of our choice,
We as poets must gift the minds of a failing generation,
We as poets must demand a clear explanation and a fair occupation,
We as poets must dissolve into particles and dust if we have not known enough,
We as poets must destroy the living standards of low quality,
We are to be the poetry of utmost perception and suffering.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ballad Of A Self-Loading Pistol
Father, i have come.
To tell you about somethin' i done.
Well as the night reared its light head
Into a baby's sun,
We rolled down into the town
From where the black throats come.
And you know there was a robb'ry.
There was a holdup.
Ooh, there was a shootout.
And there was a killin'.
And there's blood on my hands.
Today i killed a man.
Well now, sister, you know me well.
And you ask me well, how it was i felt.
Well, she had an appetite for lovin'
Only a fadin' beauty could posses.
She knew just what she wanted
And she wouldn't take less.
I figured it was a small town.
It was at sundown.
It was just a small crowd of people around.
Oh! but he wouldn't put his guns down.
No, he wouldn't put his guns down.
Oh, he wouldn't put his guns down.
Now his blood's on my hands.
Today i killed a man.
And, papa, you showed me the beauty of buckshot.
Well, that song a bullet sings as she whistles.
And showed me the story of the self-loading pistol.
Well now, father. i have come.
To tell you about somethin' i done.
He had a widow, runnin' through town screamin'.
He had a brother, and his tears were streamin'.
Now i'm movin' on the border
With a rifle on my shoulder.
'cuz, daddy, you showed me the beauty of buckshot.
The love song a bullet sings as she whistles.
And showed me the glory of the self-loading pistol.
And i just come to tell ya,
That it don't hurt no more.
No, it don't hurt no more,
'cuz your son, he's an outlaw.
Oh, your son, he's an outlaw.
Yes, your son, he's an outlaw.
Oh, your son, he's an outlaw.
Now, your son, he's an outlaw.
Oh, your son, he's an outlaw.
And this blood feels good on my hands.
Today i killed a man.
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Outlaw Man
I came out of the fifties
now that's when men were men
I am like the red red rooster,
always couping hens
I guess that I'm a rarity
some call a dying breed
I am a macho bronco stallion
call me Mr Seed
I'm a rocker
I'm a rocker
I'm a rolling stone
I'm a rocker
I'm a rocker
I'm one big bone
I'm a rocker
I'm a rocker
Motorcycle man
love don't fit in a can
When you're talking Elvis,
well I saw him yesterday
He touched me on the shoulder
asked me if he could play
I buttered up my ducktail,
put on my long black drape
I polished up my Boneville
to make those girlies gape
I'm a rocker
I'm a rocker
I'm a rolling stone
I'm a rocker
I'm a rocker
I'm one big bone
I'm a rocker
I'm a rocker
Motorcycle man
love don't fit in a can
I am one of lifes miracles
I have my fate in my hands
I see my colours before me
I am the outlaw man
the outlaw man
Solo
Jimmy Dean was riding next to me and Steve McQueen
And we're burning up the street now
And we're looking pretty mean
I'm not living in the past
and I'm not history
I'm here to set the records straight,
unlock this mystery
I'm a rocker
I'm a rocker
I'm a rolling stone
I'm a rocker
I'm a rocker
I'm one big bone
I'm a rocker
I'm a rocker
Motorcycle man
love don't fit in a can
I am one of lifes miracles
I have my fate in my hands
I see my colours before me
I am the outlaw man
I am one of lifes miracles
I have my fate in my hands
I see my colours before me
I am the outlaw man
I'm the outlaw man
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballad Of The Self-loading Pistol
Father, I have come.
To tell you about somethin I done.
Well as the night reared its light head
Into a babys sun,
We rolled down into the town
From where the black throats come.
And you know there was a robbry.
There was a holdup.
Ooh, there was a shootout.
And there was a killin.
And theres blood on my hands.
Today I killed a man.
Well now, sister, you know me well.
And you ask me well, how it was I felt.
Well, she had an appetite for lovin
Only a fadin beauty could posses.
She knew just what she wanted
And she wouldnt take less.
I figured it was a small town.
It was at sundown.
It was just a small crowd of people around.
Oh! but he wouldnt put his guns down.
No, he wouldnt put his guns down.
Oh, he wouldnt put his guns down.
Now his bloods on my hands.
Today I killed a man.
And, papa, you showed me the beauty of buckshot.
Well, that song a bullet sings as she whistles.
And showed me the story of the self-loading pistol.
Well now, father. I have come.
To tell you about somethin I done.
He had a widow, runnin through town screamin.
He had a brother, and his tears were streamin.
Now Im movin on the border
With a rifle on my shoulder.
cuz, daddy, you showed me the beauty of buckshot.
The love song a bullet sings as she whistles.
And showed me the glory of the self-loading pistol.
And I just come to tell ya,
That it dont hurt no more.
No, it dont hurt no more,
cuz your son, hes an outlaw.
Oh, your son, hes an outlaw.
Yes, your son, hes an outlaw.
Oh, your son, hes an outlaw.
Now, your son, hes an outlaw.
Oh, your son, hes an outlaw.
And this blood feels good on my hands.
Today I killed a man.
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A poor pen
Pen is
Not great...
On the paper...
poet write at
Moon+ sky...
Stars...
Earth and sea...
All are in poets
Hand only
At poets hand...
Poets is think...
Poets dream...
Thats all
pen is very poor
Noock out...
undrestad to try...
Try too under stand....
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For All The Poets
FOR ALL THE POETS
This is a poem for all the poets who have no name,
For all those who have written and failed,
And for those who have not written,
And failed.
This is a poem for all the poets who dreamed themselves poets,
And were never, and will be known as poets
To the world.
This a poem for all those
Who after years of effort
Still live in an oblivion
They will die in.
This is a poem for all those
Who whether they have poetry in them or not,
Will never be heard or read,
For what their hearts must tell
Someone else.
This is a poem for all the silent poets
Those who live in silence
And whose silence is eternal
For all those whose only poetry
is the poem they have lived within themselves.
This is a poem for all those who would- be poets
And a poem for those
Who despite their efforts
Did not make their poem known.
This is a poem which may be for you,
And I know is for me
A confession
To make us less alone.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There are two classes of poets - the poets by education and practice, these we respect; and poets by nature, these we love.
quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don't know if younger poets read a lot of, you know, the poets - the established poets. There was a lot of pretty boring stuff to sort of put up with and to add to, to make something vital from.
quote by Robert Adamson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I Knew What Poets Know
If I knew what poets know,
Would I write a rhyme
Of the buds that never blow
In the summer-time?
Would I sing of golden seeds
Springing up in ironweeds?
And of rain-drops turned to snow,
If I knew what poets know?
Did I know what poets do,
Would I sing a song
Sadder than the pigeon's coo
When the days are long?
Where I found a heart in pain,
I would make it glad again;
And the false should be the true,
Did I know what poets do.
If I knew what poets know,
I would find a theme
Sweeter than the placid flow
Of the fairest dream:
I would sing of love that lives
On the errors it forgives;
And the world would better grow
If I knew what poets know.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Are A Few Poets
THERE ARE A FEW POETS
There are a few poets
Beyond the poetry you and I know
And are capable of –
There are a few poets
Who seem to write a poetry
Which is Poetry itself,
A Poetry which is everything Poetry should be-
Those poets are somewhere else
On a level far beyond any we can hope to reach-
They are Poetry –
And we we are the little listeners and readers
Who can in awe and praise worship
What we ourselves will forever be incapable of.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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