The Harlot
Mid Uzi shots from vacant lots, which strike and ricochet
A painted girl with flaxen curl (named Wendy) 's on her way
To tantalise with half-clad thighs, to trick again today;
And indiscreet upon the street she gives her pride away
To any guy who's passing by with cash and time to pay.
In concert halls beyond the Walls, unjaded girls ballet,
With flowered thoughts of Camelot and dreams of cabarets.
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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War Paint
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Girl before the mirror
Appraises her disguise
Child become a mother
Tries to fix her eyes
No more of his excuses
It has to be today
She can keep her fantasy
If she can get away
Paint her name on a one-way street
Painted cheeks with angry heat
Wounded pride on painted eyes
Paint the night with battlecries
All puffed up with vanity
We see what we want to see
To the beautiful and the wise
The mirror always lies
Boy before the mirror
Checks his camoflauge
Polishes his armor
And the charger in the garage
No more lame excuses
It has to be tonight
He can take the princess
If he can take the fight
Pound the drums with martial beat
Pound the streets with marching feet
Wounded pride, distorted eyes
Paint the night with battlecries
All puffed up with vanity
We see what we want to see
To the powerful and the wise
The mirror always lies
Boys and girls together
Mistake conceit for pride
--- ambition for illusion
--- dreams for self-delusion
Girls and boys together
See what it is we lack
Boys and girls together
Lets paint the mirror black
Paint it black
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wendy's Parade
Ow!
Everyone come behold little girl Wendy's parade
The show will proceed unless it should rain strawberry lemonade
Hopefully that will not occur, the man above has been paid
Give what U can, all U can stand, and all of your life will be made
Everyone should come and dig little girl Wendy's guitar
The chord strikes, the devil no like, so he runs 2 his evil car
Everyone come behold little girl Wendy's parade
Goodness will guide us if love is inside us
Little girl Wendy's parade {x3
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Girl Named Paige
A girl named Paige
With eyes and a face so bright
A girl named Paige
Came into my dreary life
My life, so dark
So full of strife
A girl named Paige
About her I was told
To keep me away until I was old
A girl named Paige
A lesson she did teach
For me to keep sight of my reach
A girl named Paige
Broke my heart
As my world fell apart
A girl named Paige
Perfectly took the part
While adding another fool to her cart
A girl named Paige
Shook my whole world
My eyes were on no other girl
A girl named Paige
Fooled me into loving her
While she secretly lusted another, and another
A girl named Paige
Caused me endless pain
Of this, I'm not ashamed
A girl named Paige
Made me go insane
This girl is love's bane
A girl named Paige
Caused me to do so much
To love her such
A girl named Paige
Made my heart bleed
The woe of pain it did heed
A girl named Paige
I'll never be the same
In that group, she came
A girl named Paige
I loved a whole whole lot
A feeling she returned, did not
A girl named Paige
Others showed me how she was
She screws around just because
A girl named Paige
Has had several boyfriends
She shares between her and her best friend
A girl named Paige
Is sleeping around
Like her mother, she's been around town
A girl named Paige
Has 4 sisters
If you see her vermin family, you surely won't miss her
A girl named Paige
I felt so much emotion
Caused so much devastation
A girl named Paige
Fooled me she loved me so
She can't fool anyone no more
A girl named Paige
Has no future for her
She'll be working as a stripper
A girl named Paige
Will have a horrible existence
For her whole being is full of pestilence
A girl named Paige
Makes you love
A false gift from above
A girl named Paige
Should be gone from this world
She gives a bad name to all other girls
For Paige G.
With love, Joseph
poem by Joseph Shofner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bad Girl
Bad girls
Talking about the sad girls
Sad girls
Talking About bad girls, yeah
See them out on the street at night, walkin'
Picking up on all kinds of strangers
If the price is right
You can't score if you're pocket's tight
But you want a good time
You ask yourself who they are
Like everybody else, they come from near and far
Bad girls
Talking about the sad girls
Sad girls
Talking About bad girls, yeah
Friday night and the strip is hot
Sun's gone down and they're out to trot
Spirit's high and legs look hot
Do you wanna get down?
Now don't you ask yourself who they are?
Like everybody else, they wanna be a star
Now you and me we're both the same
But you call yourself by different names
Now your mama won't like it when she finds out
That her girl is out at night
Street talkin', street walkin'
Hey, mister, have you got a dime?
Mister, do you want to spent some time? Oh, yeah
I got what you want, you got what I need
I'll be your baby, come and spend it on me
Sad Girls, you such a dirty bad girl
Beep-Beep uh uh
You bad girl you sad girl
you such a dirty bad girl
Beep-Beep uh uh
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wendy
Wendy, wendy what went wrong
Oh so wrong
We went together for so long
I never thought a guy could cry
til you made it with another guy
Oh wendy, wendy left me alone
Hurt so bad
Wendy, wendy dont lose your head
Lose your head
Wendy dont believe a word he says
I cant picture you with him
His future looks awful dim
Oh wendy, wendy left me alone
Hurt so bad
Wendy I wouldnt hurt you like that
No no no
I thought we had our love down pat
Guess I was wrong
The farthest thing from my mind
Was the day that Id wake up to find
My wendy
Wendy left me alone
Wendy, wendy left me alone
Hurts so bad
Wendy, wendy left me alone
Hurts so bad
Wendy, wendy left me alone
Hurts so bad
Wendy, wendy...
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The girl of my dreams
I met the girl of my dreams
I held her, I love her, but that wasn’t a dream
She made me feel so special inside
Now I feel like a failure inside
The girl of my dreams was so pretty and pure
The girl of my dreams was so perfect
The girl in my dreams is everything I want
The girl in my dreams is everything that is right
The girl in my dreams talked with me
The girl in my dreams is named Dee
The girl in my dreams showed me who I am
The girl in my dreams showed me what love is
The girl in my dreams showed me how to love
The girl in my dreams I love so much
The girl of my dreams I love you so
The girl of my dreams I hate that you let go
The girl of my dreams you are so rare
The girl of my dreams you for me
The girl of my dreams without life doesn’t seem right
The girl of my dreams without you why put up the fight
The girl of my dreams without you I am not whole
The girl of my dreams without you I feel like I am in a hole.
The girl of my dreams, you are for me
The girl of my dreams is Dee.
poem by Jonathan Pendley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Harlot 2
While all night queens carve figurines in gelatine and jade,
Behind a door and on the floor a deal is finally made;
A painted girl with flaxen curl has plied again her trade
And now the care within her stare has turned a darker shade.
Her lack of guile and parting smile are cutting like a blade.
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bones of a Bad girl
Flesh to flesh
Thoughts to thoughts
Bad girl, bad thoughts
Bad girl wants to touch flesh
But bad man slaps hand away
Bad deeds, good thoughts
No flesh for bad girl
Girls do not touch, thoughts unwelcome
Boys touch flesh, no bad boys
Friends who hold hands, bad girls
Boys who touch girl, good thoughts, warm flesh
Girls crave flesh, bad bad girl
Flesh turns cold, bad thoughts
No way out, big trouble
Flesh is melted, distorted, explored
Thoughts revere, devilish girl
Boys do deeds, good thoughts
Girl slapped on the wrist, more bad
Boys given treats, deeds undone
Girls have bad thoughts, naught arms purple
Flesh dark circles, sketches, screams
Bad wirls with thoughts and deeds, girl want flesh
No flesh is for free, girls still scream
poem by Kelsey Wallace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One-Trick Pony
I am not a one-trick pony
I am not a one-trick pony
I really feel no one can own me
I really feel nothing can hold me
Nobody can control me
Nobody can conform me
Nobody can disown me
Nobody can ignore me
So slow down
One-trick pony
I am not a one-trick pony
I am not a one-trick pony
For you i will not dance
For you i will not prance
And where I was last
I'll never be at
And After that
I've already passed
So slow down
And hear this sound
One-trick pony
Yeah, you do it for a price
I can see it in your eyes
See that role was never mine
I don't want to stand in line
See how that one-trick story goes
If she weren't on time you'd never know
cause a one-trick pony steals the show
You're just a pony
So back down
To the ground
And chill out
Girl, you better shape up, girl, you better shape up
Yeah the ride is so, so, so, so, so fast
Yeah, you better shape up
Yeah, just keep your chin up
No half ass...no half ass
One-trick pony
Just ride ride ride
Just ride ride ride
Ride ride ride
song performed by by Nelly Furtado
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come Out To Play
He used to think that it was neat
When he hung out on the street
Now that its his daily beat, hes not so sure
Cause hes come to depend
On a street with a dead end
And hell sell you his best friend, so he can score
(chorus
Boys and girls come out to play
The junk mans on the streets to say
Hell make your dreams feel real today
And steal your minds tomorrow
Now his thoughts dont seem so clear
His whole life is filled with fear
His habit cost him dear in every way
His girl cant take the heat
But his friends all cross the street
Still the needle keeps him sweet
If he can pay for one more day
His bones have got no meat
Hes unsteady on his feet
And he doesnt get to eat, not every day
What started out for kicks
Has become a daily fix
And his girlfriends turning tricks to pay his way
(chorus)
Boys and girls come out to play
The junk mans on the streets to say
Hell make your dreams feel real today
And steal your minds tomorrow
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Is Today the Day
Is today the day
we tell Satan flee
is today the day
we will be free
Is today the day
we curl and run
is today the day
we use that gun
Is today the day
much like before
Is today the day
to close the door
Is today the day
the walls come down
Is today the day
we will abound
Is today the day
we ask Jesus in
Is today the day
life begins again
Is today the day
we help a friend
is today the day
Will we let Him in
(2005)
poem by Linda Fleming
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Plus Size
Are u a plus size girl?
Now dun be mad, girl
Just stating a fact, girl
Not that you overeat, girl
Sometimes it could be, girl
A medical condition, girl
Stuck in that position, girls
Being a woman, girls
Juggling career, family, girls
Going into menopause, girls
Can play havoc, girls
To our weight, girls
Hormones at play, girls
Or lack of it, girls
Plus size is in, girls
Throw the diet in the bin, girls
Sexy curves, girls
See Mad Men, girls
See Marilyn Monroe, girls
See Adele, girls
See dropp Dead Diva, girls
See Glee, girls
Watching diet's a pain, girls
So what if we gain, girls
Nobody, nobody but you, girls
Decides what you, girls
Want to be and do, girls
Key is Attitude, girls
Be cool. Peace out!
Out In The Street
Put on your best dress baby
And darlin, fix your hair up right
Cause theres a party, honey
Way down beneath the neon lights
All day youve been working that hard line
Now tonight youre gonna have a good time
I work five days a week girl
Loading crates down on the dock
I take my hard earned money
And meet my girl down on the block
And monday when the foreman calls time
Ive already got friday on my mind
When that whistle blows
Girl, Im down the street
Im home, Im out of my work clothes
When Im out in the street
I walk the way I wanna walk
When Im out in the street
I talk the way I wanna talk
When Im out in the street
When Im out in the street
When Im out in the street, girl
Well, I never feel alone
When Im out in the street, girl
In the crowd I feel at home
The black and whites they cruise by
And they watch us from the corner of their eye
But there aint no doubt girl, down here
We aint gonna take what theyre handing out
When Im out in the street
I walk the way I wanna walk
When Im out in the street
I talk the way I wanna talk
Baby, out in the street I dont feel sad or blue
Baby, out in the street Ill be waiting for you
When the whistle blows
Girl, Im down the street
Im home, Im out of my work clothes
When Im out in the street
I walk the way I wanna walk
When Im out in the street
I talk the way I wanna talk
When Im out in the street
Pretty girls, theyre all passing by
When Im out in the street
From the corner, we give them the eye
Baby, out in the street I just feel all right
Meet me out in the street, little girl, tonight
Meet me out in the street
Meet me out in the street
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never Land
PREFACE
This yarn is a fabric woven of several earlier warped works, lightly laced together with additional braided tales of human frailty. The looms were purling frantically... Some pearls may be found wonting, hanging loose, dangling free within a fuzzy flight of fancy... These untethered strands may be fastened, or be forgotten, or be hidden by the readers in the corners of their minds... Some may end up in stitches, others all torn up or ripped apart, others may just say ‘made of hole cloth', ‘sew what' or ‘I don't seam to get the needle point'... This wanton web is yours to spin...
Some have said that such strange things ‘have Never happened in our Land', such quaint things ‘could Never happen in our Land'', such murky things ‘will Never happen in our Land''... and this may be true... such is the gossamer that veils the human mind... and thus ensues the title of this Fantasy...
NEVER LAND
An ancient man named Peter Pan, disguised but from the past,
With feathered cap and tunic wrap and sabre's sailed his last.
Though fully grown, on dust he's flown and perched upon a mast
Atop the Walls around the sprawls, unvisited and vast -
And all the while with bitter smile he's watching us aghast.
As day begins, a spindle spins, it weaves a wanton web;
Like puckered prunes, like midday moons, like yesterday's celebs,
We scrape and grope, we seldom hope - he's watching while we ebb:
The organ grinder preaches fine on Sunday afternoons -
He quotes from books but overlooks the Secrets Carved in Runes:
'You've tried and toyed, but can't avoid or shun the pale monsoons,
It's sink or swim as echoed dim in swinging door saloons'.
The laughingstocks are flinging rocks at ball-and-chained baboons.
While ghetto boys are looting toys preparing for their doom
And Mademoiselles are weaving shells on tapestries with looms,
Cathedral cats and rafter rats are peering in the room,
Where ragged strangers stoop for change, for coppers in the gloom,
Whose thoughts are more upon the doors of crypts in Christmas bloom,
And gold doubloons and silver spoons that tempt beyond the tomb.
Mid Uzi shots from vacant lots, that strike and ricochet
A painted girl with flaxen curl (named Wendy) 's on her way
To tantalise with half-clad thighs, to trick again today;
And indiscreet upon the street she gives her pride away
To any guy who's passing by with time and cash to pay.
(In concert halls beyond the Walls, unjaded girls ballet,
With flowered thoughts of Camelot and dreams of cabarets.)
The alley ways within the maze are paved with rats and mice.
Evangelists with moneyed fists collect the sacrifice
From losers scorned and rubes reborn, and promise paradise,
While in the back they cook some crack, inhale, and roll the dice.
A bum called Boe has stubbed his toe, he's stumbled in the gutter;
With broken neck, he looks a wreck, the sparrows all aflutter,
The passers-by, they close an eye, and turn their heads and mutter:
'Let's pray for rains to wash the lanes, to clear away the clutter.'
A river slows neath mountain snows, and leaves begin to shudder.
Though rip-off shops and crooked cops are paid not once but thrice,
The painted girl with flaxen curl is paring down her price
And loosely tempts cold hands unkempt to touch the merchandise.
A crazy guy cries 'where am I', a schizo titters twice,
And double quick a lunatic affects a fight with lice.
The jungle teems, a siren screams, the air is filled with meth.
The Reverent Priest and nuns unleash the Holy Shibboleth.
And Righteous Jane who is insane, as well as Sister Beth,
While telling tales to no avail of everlasting death,
At least imbue Hagg Avenue with whisky on their breath.
The Reverent Priest combats the Beast, they're kneeling down to prey,
To fight the truth with fang and tooth, to toil for yesterday,
To etch their mark within the dark, to paint their résumé
On shrouds and sheets which then completes the devil's dossier.
Old Dan, he's drunk and in a funk, all mired in the mud.
A Monk begins to wash Dan's sins, and asks 'How are you, Bud? '
'I'm feeling pain and crying rain till soon there is a flood.
And no god's there who seems to care I'm always coughing blood.'
The Monk, he turns, Dan's words he spurns and lets the bible thud.
Well, Banjo Boy, he will annoy with jangled rhymes that fray:
'The clanging bells of carousels lead blind men's minds astray
To rings of gold they'll never hold in fingers made of clay.
But crest and crown will crumble down, when withered roots decay.'
Now, Railroad Bob has lost his job, he's got no place for working,
His wife, she cries with desperate eyes, their baby's head's a' jerking.
The union man don't give a damn, Big Brother lies a' lurking,
The boss' in cabs are picking scabs, they count their money, smirking.
A pregnant lass with eyes of glass has never learned to cope.
Once set adrift her fall was swift, she slid a slipp'ry slope -
She casts the Curse, the Holy Verse, and shoots a shot of dope,
And stalks discreet Asylum Street her daily horoscope -
The stray was struck by random truck which was her only hope.
Well, Banjo Boy, with little joy, he strums her life entire:
'The wayward waif was never safe; her stars were dark and dire.
Born midst the rues and avenues where lack and want aspire
Where no one heeds the childish needs that little ones require;
Where faith survives in tempest lives, a swirl within the briar,
Infinity grinds as time unwinds, until the winds expire.
Her last caprice? The final peace that no one could deny her -
Whipped by the flood, stray beads of blood are spattered on the spire;
Though beads of sweat are cool and wet, cold clotted blood is dryer.'
Though broken there, she's fled the snare with dying thoughts serene.
And now she's dead, the rumours spread: her age? a sweet 16,
With child, unwed, her soul dyed red, her body so unclean.
A place is sought where she can rot, avoiding churchyard scenes,
In limey pits, as well befits, behind forbidding screens;
And all the while a dirge is styled on tattered tambourines
Which echo through the human zoo in valleys of the Queens.
Without rejoice, in hissing voice, near soil that's seldom trod
'In pious role, God bless my soul', was mouthed with mitred nod,
Neath scarlet trim with black, and grim, behind a robed facade -
'She'll burn in hell and sulphur smell', spat Priest and man of god.
Well, angels sweet with cloven feet, they sing in girl's attire,
But Banjo Boy, he's playing coy while chanting in the choir:
'The clueless search within the church to find what they desire,
But near the nave or gravelled grave, there is no Rectifier.'
And when he's through, without ado, he stacks some stones nearby her.
A sodden dreg with wooden leg is dancing for a dime,
To sacred psalms and other balms, all ticking with the time.
He's 22, he's almost through, he's melted in his prime,
His bane is firm, the canker worm dissolves his brain to slime.
With slanted scales and twisted jails, his life's his only crime.
The eyes behind the head inclined reflect a universe
Of shanty towns and kings in crowns and parties in a hearse,
Of heaping mounds of coffee grounds and pennies in a purse,
Of heart attacks in shoddy shacks, of motion in reverse,
Of reasons why pale kids must die, quite trite and curtly terse,
Of puppet people at the steeple, kneeling down averse,
Of tinkle tones and megaphones with empty words and worse,
Of life's begin' in utter sin and other things perverse,
Of lewd taboos and residues contained within the Curse,
While poets blind, in gallows' rind, carve epitaphs in verse.
Bob walks the streets and begs for eats or little jobs for trying
'The answer's no, you ought to know, no use for you applying,
And don't be sad, it aint that bad, it's soon your time for dying.'
The air is thick, his baby's sick, the cries are multiplying.
The backyard blight is hid from sight, it's covered up and bland,
The beggar clump beside the dump has pencil box in hand.
With sightless eyes upon the skies he's lying there unmanned,
With no relief and bitter grief too dark to understand.
The backyard blight is hid from sight, it's covered up and bland,
And Robin Hood and Brother Hood lie buried in the sand.
While all night queens carve figurines in gelatine and jade,
Behind a door and on the floor a deal is finally made;
The painted girl with flaxen curl has plied again her trade
And now the care within her stare has turned a darker shade.
Her lack of guile and parting smile are cutting like a blade.
Some boys with cheek play hide and seek within a house condemned
Their faces gaunt reflecting want that's hard to comprehend.
With no excuse an old recluse is waiting to descend.
His eyes despair behind the stair, he's never had a friend
To talk about his hidden doubt of how the world will end -
To die alone on empty throne and other Fates impend.
And soon the boys chase phantom joys and, presto when they're gone,
The old recluse, with nimble noose and facial features drawn,
No longer waits upon the Fates but yawns his final yawn
- Like Tinker Bell, he spins a spell, in fairy dust chiffon -
With twisted brow, he's tranquil now, he's floating like a swan
And as he fades from life's charades, the night awaits the dawn.
A boomerang with ebon fang is soaring through the air
To pierce and breach the heart of each and then is called despair.
And as it grows it will oppose and fester everywhere.
And yet the crop that's at the top will still be unaware.
A lad is stopped by roving cops, who shoot in disregard.
His face is black, he's on his back, a breeze is breathing hard,
He bleeds and dies, his mama cries, the screaming sky is scarred,
The sheriff and his squad at hand are laughing in the yard.
Bob's wife's in town, she's broken down, she's ranting with a fury,
Their baby coughs, the doctor scoffs, the snow is all a' flurry,
Their life of sin has done them in, they skirmish, scrimp and scurry.
It's getting late, Bob's tempting fate, his choices cruel and blurry,
His midnight dreams are filled with screams, he knows he needs to hurry -
He chooses gas, they breathe their last, there's no more cause to worry.
Per protocols near ivied walls arrayed in sage festoons,
The Countess quips, while giving tips, to crimson caped buffoons:
'To rise from mass to upper class, like twirly bird tycoons,
You stretch the treat you always eat, with tiny tablespoons'
A learned leach begins to teach (with songs upon a liar) :
'Within the thrall of Satan's call to yield to dim desire
Lie wicked lies that tantalize the flesh and blood Vampire;
Abiding souls with self-control in everyday Hellfire
Will rest assured, when once interred, in afterlife Empire'.
The words, they weave the make believe, while slugs in salt expire,
Baptised in tears and rampant fears, all mirrored in the mire.
It's getting hot on private yachts, though far from desert plains -
'Well, come to think, we'll have a drink', Sir Captain Hook ordains.
Beyond the blame and pit of shame, outside the Walled domains,
They pet their pups and raise their cups, take sips of pale champagnes
To touch the tips of languid lips with pearls of purple rains.
Well, Gypsy Guy would rather die than hunker down in chains,
Be ridden south with bit in mouth, or heed the hold of reins;
The ones that plot are in a spot, the boss man he complains:
'The gypsy soul, I can't control, my patience wears and wanes;
They will not cede to common greed, one only way remains,
In boxcar bins, with violins we'll freight them out in trains,
And in the bogs, they'll die like dogs, and everybody gains.'
Arrayed in shawls with crystal balls, and gazing at the moons,
Wiled women tease with melodies and spooky loony tunes
While making toasts to holey ghosts on rainy day lagoons:
'Well, here's to you and others too, embedded in the dunes,
Avoid the stares, avoid the snares, avoid the veiled typhoons
And fend your way as every day, 'gainst heavy heeled dragoons.'
The birds of pray are on their way, in every beak the Word
(Of ptomaine tomes by gnarly gnomes) whose meaning is obscured;
They roost aloof on every roof, obscene but always herd,
To tell the tale of Jonah's whale and other rhymes absurd -
With shifty eyes, they're giving whys for living life deferred.
While jackals lean, hyenas mean, and hungry crocodiles
Feast in the lounge and never scrounge, lambs languish in the aisle.
The naive dare to say 'unfair, let's try to reconcile.
We'll all relax and weigh the facts, let justice spin the dial.'
With jaundiced monks and minds pre-shrunk, the jury is compiled.
The Rulers meet, First Ladies greet, the Kings appear in style.
Before the Court, their sins are short, they're swept into a pile;
With diatribes and petty bribes, the jurors are beguiled.
The Herd entreats, the Shepherd bleats the verdict of the trial:
'You have no face. Stay in your place, stay in the Rank and File.
And wait instead, for when you're dead, for riches after while';
Aristocrats add caveats while sailing down the Nile:
'If Minds are mugged or simply drugged with philtres in a vial,
Then few indeed will fail to feed the Pharaoh's Crocodile.'
The wordsmiths spin, the bankers grin and politicians smile,
The riff and raff, they never laugh, they mark a martyred mile.
The rituals are finished, all, here comes the Reverent Priest.
He leads the crowds beneath the clouds, and there the flock is fleeced
With crossing signs and bloody wines and consecrated yeast,
'The last are first, the rich are cursed.' (The leached remain the least.)
His step is gay without dismay before his evening feast;
He thanks the Lord for room and board and bows to Eden East;
He doesn't sigh or wonder why the sins have not decreased.
The sinking sun is now undone, the sky is fading red.
A spider black hides in a crack and spins a silken thread
And babes will soon collapse and swoon, on curbs they call a bed;
With vacant eyes they fantasize and dream of gingerbread,
And then are freed, though still in need, from anguish of the dead.
While midnight bats are gnawing gnats and feasting free unseen,
A toddler's fed from garbage sheds an elegant cuisine.
Along the trails in distant dales a lonesome wolverine
Feigns appetite on fogy nights and days of crystalline.
The circus gongs excite the throngs in nighttime Never Land -
They swarm to see the destiny of Freaks at their command,
While Acrobats step pitapat across the shifting sands
And Lady Fat adores her cat and oozes charm unplanned.
The Dwarfs in suits, so small and cute when marching with the band,
Ask crimson Clowns with painted frowns, to lend a mutant hand,
While Tamers' whips with withered tips, throughout the winter land,
Lure minds entranced through hoops enhanced with flames of fires fanned.
White Elephants in big-top tents sell black tusk contraband
To Sycophants in regiments who overflow the stands,
But No One sees anomalies, and No One understands.
At night's demise, the dither dies, the lonely Crowd disbands,
Down dead-end streets the Horde retreats, their threadbare rags in strands,
And Janes and Joes reweave their woes, for thoughts of change are banned.
The Monk of Mock has fled the flock caught knocking up a tween
(She brought to light the special rite he thought to leave unseen) .
With profaned eyes they agonise, their souls no more serene
And at the shrine the flutes of wine are filled with kerosene
By men unkempt who once had dreamt but now can dream no more
Except when bellowed bellies belch an ever growing roar,
Which churns the seas and stirs a breeze that mercy can't ignore,
And in the night, though filled with fright, they try to end the War.
The slow and quick are hurling bricks and fight with clubs of rage
To break the chains and cleanse the stains of life within a cage,
But yield to stings of armoured things that crush in every age.
At crack of dawn, a broken pawn, in pools of blood and fire,
He washes wounds, in blood festooned - the waves flow nigh and nigher;
The ghetto towns are burning down - the flames grow high and higher -
And in their wake, a golden snake is rising from the pyre,
Her knees are bare, consumed in prayer, applauded by the Friar.
And soon it's clear the end is near - while magpie birds conspire,
The lowly worm is made to squirm while dangling from a wire.
The line was crossed, the battle lost, the losers can't deny,
The residues are far and few, though smoke pervades the sky.
The cool wind's cruel, a cutting tool, the vanquished ask it 'Why? ',
And bittersweet, from Easy Street, the Pashas' puffed reply:
'The rules are set, so don't forget, the rabble will comply;
The grapes of wrath may make you laugh, the day you are to die.'
The down and out, they knock about beneath the barren skies
Where homeward bound, without a sound, a wretched raven flies.
Beyond the Walls, the morning calls the newborn sun to rise,
And Peter Pan, a broken man, he tilts his head and cries.
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Girls Day
Today is girls day
Let us observe today
Today's girl is tomorrow's mother
Let us live in peace together
Let us worship mother
She is the creator
Today is girl's day
And you can not say
Today is not auspicious day
You must say
We are lucky enough
To observe today
Let us love girl
Let us take care of her
Girl is the mother
Of future mankind
She is our mind
She is our strength
She is our mind
She is our heart
She is our love
Let us love girls
Today is girls day.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Girls Of Summer
When winter hush turns summer pink
In half the time it takes to blink
But it all depends on what'choo think
About the girls of summer
When all you think of all day long
Is a pretty face inside a song
With a thought like that you can't go wrong
About the girls of summer
Oh yeah... (Do you know... everybody knows now)
Some girls are all about it
Some girls they love to let it fly
Some girls can't live without it
Some girls are born to make you cry
Over and over again
My favorite thing that drives me wild
Is when a city girl walks a country mile
For a boy she loves God bless the child
Inside the girls of summer
Oh yeah... (Do you know... everybody knows now)
Some girls are all about it
Some girls they love to let it fly
Some girls can't live without it
Some girls are born to make you cry
Yeah... over and over again
Yeah... yeah... yeah... yeah... yeah
They get'choo climbin' the walls
They get'choo caught in their spell
They get'choo speakin' in tongues
Could this be Heaven or Hell
To fall in love twice a day
Is such a sweet place to be
Se - vous - play
The best things about life are free
The pussywillow up your tree
To the one who climbs
They'll always be the girl... yeah
Some girls are all about it
Some girls they love to let it fly
Some girls no doubt about it
Some girls are born to make you cry
Some girls can't live without it
Some girls got twenty reasons why
Over and over and over and over and over...
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Harlem Shadows
I hear the halting footsteps of a lass
In Negro Harlem when the night lets fall
Its veil. I see the shapes of girls who pass
To bend and barter at desire's call.
Ah, little dark girls who in slippered feet
Go prowling through the night from street to street!
Through the long night until the silver break
Of day the little gray feet know no rest;
Through the lone night until the last snow-flake
Has dropped from heaven upon the earth's white breast,
The dusky, half-clad girls of tired feet
Are trudging, thinly shod, from street to street.
Ah, stern harsh world, that in the wretched way
Of poverty, dishonor and disgrace,
Has pushed the timid little feet of clay,
The sacred brown feet of my fallen race!
Ah, heart of me, the weary, weary feet
In Harlem wandering from street to street.
poem by Claude McKay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Sport-in Life
Golf, baseball and girls, scantily clad
Obsessions of mine when just a young lad
Not listed here in order of rank
Baseball came first, to be perfectly frank
Sports took a back seat as time flew on by
To girls, clad or not, to this more mature guy
Baseball and golf, great in their place
They can’t be compared to a females embrace
Now that I’m aged and much more mature
Girls, clad or not, are somewhat obscure
Golf, baseball and girls, scantily clad
Obsessions of mine, I’m glad to have had
poem by Stanley Cooper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hen Party
The hen night is a girls night out
Time for girls to bind and shout
They say all they have to say
Prior to the wedding day.
This night is special with your friends
A time to share stories and make amends
The bride to be has a list to do
From snogging a fella to stealing a shoe.
It's required that you have lots of fun
As certain things should always be done
Some of the things are a tradition
Handed down from the female institution.
This girls night out is quite unique
Not designed for hearts too weak
So please raise your glasses
To this wild bunch of lasses.
The wonderful world of the hen night
Partying 'till the morning light
The hen night full of fun goes well
Oh the stories walls could tell.
The best of the best along for the ride
All your girlfriends at your side
A night of memories to last forever
When all the girls gathered together.
There's just one thing left to say
That's why we girls are here today
It's time to say goodbye to the past
For you are getting married at last.
© Hazel 2012
poem by Hazel Connelly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Curl
You curl, you know how to curl,
Yes you know a curl in your hair
And you curl yourself like a
Hair, in your bed,
It is so cold and no one
Sleeps here
No one comes
There is no hello
As guest and no
Hi to pretend
You are coming
Well, you curl, you know how to curl,
Like your hair,
This time, curl forever,
Nothing straight till the end,
Eternal curl,
Still
Touch it
It bounces and rebounces,
touch it again,
and be silent
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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