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My best poem needs some help....

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posted on Feb, 21 2008 @ 06:21 PM
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Okay. I'm new to this forum. Hello everyone. I once fancied myself a poet and here is what I thought and still think is the best I ever came up with. It could use adding to, however, and that is what you all are for!

Here goes:


When I'm dreaming
I can be anything I want to be
When I'm suffocating
I can only gasp for air

When you woke
You thought I was someone else
When you slept
You watched me as I drowned




posted on Feb, 23 2008 @ 03:56 PM
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All these writers and no help with my little poem....


I changed it a little. Originally, I wrote that around 15 years ago when I had my own "Queen of Pain" in my life.

Here's the original:

When I'm dreaming
I can be anything I want to be
When I'm drowning
I can only gasp for air

When you woke
You thought I was someone else
When you slept
You watched me as I drowned


I only changed one word, but I like the original better. I waited too long and was unable to edit my original post. No one on here can come up with more to add to this poem? I suppose it's pretty good all by itself. At least I thought so 15 years ago.....(and still think it shows some creativity)

You see, it's about being in a miserable relationship. The only time I was enjoying myself was when I was asleep and able to dream and pretend that things were different. When I was awake, I was drowning....suffocating, gasping for air.

My wonderful partner at the time wasn't always waking up with me next to her, thus, she thought I was someone else this particular morning. And when she was sleeping, she watched me die. She didn't try to save me.

Actually, life with her was the same. She was watching me die every day and never tried to save me. I finally saved myself!! I was in a very different place back then.......

I will be posting some other stuff on here....feel free to tell me if any of it sucks or if any of it is any good.....what good is art without criticism??



posted on Feb, 25 2008 @ 10:31 AM
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Mysterious old places
littered with bottles and rags
unkempt promises, tears
open wounds, paper bags
that once held our dreams
our hopes, our doom

our angles await
drinking coffee or wine
watching the dogs
playing in the yard,
embroidering our lives
with red and white
thread




[edit on 25-2-2008 by whaaa]



posted on Feb, 26 2008 @ 06:10 PM
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Dead
Is a paycheck to you
Some coke
A little smoke

Another
Man to stroke
Man hating closet dike
Why don't you die

Life
Is what to you
Sucking men dry
Succubus bitch

Taken
Get in line
For the black widow
Is blood hungry

Ugly
Goes right to the bone
She's big boned
Big death machine



[edit on 26-2-2008 by Excitable_Boy]



posted on Feb, 27 2008 @ 09:08 PM
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Bold and shameless the idiot
cruise with cans of roting colors
threatening with razzle dazzle

windows neat as holes in punch cards
tongues of words that crawl like serpents
Light as smoke they wreathe the windows
quick quick a spritz of dreams

who smells fresh and clean
the laws of the universe are suspended



posted on Feb, 29 2008 @ 06:19 PM
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The idiot cruise
Give me a ticket
I know where to stick it

I get sea sick on the water



posted on Mar, 1 2008 @ 12:23 AM
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Art is nothing more than the electrocution of humanity
sparks in honest peoples working worlds
Does the gallery keep you informed of the artists worth
Onto the spine onto the wall, into the act of dance
where were drawn and quarted to get to sophistication
Chants for food, the Earth turning to the sun
Magnetism, death to life in instant pleasure.

[edit on 1-3-2008 by whaaa]

[edit on 1-3-2008 by whaaa]



posted on Mar, 5 2008 @ 06:52 PM
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Art is nothing more than the electrocution of humanity
sparks in honest peoples working worlds
Does the gallery keep you informed of the artists worth
Onto the spine onto the wall, into the act of dance
where were drawn and quarted to get to sophistication
Chants for food, the Earth turning to the sun
Magnetism, death to life in instant pleasure.



Just as human's be
Art is...

Can art truly be taught?
I'm an artist
Because I know it

I did art school
I did not much else
At university
Late at night, at home

Everyone has an opinion
Just as we all have an ass
Some say teachers teach
Because they cannot do
So, they critique your class

What do they have hanging?
What are they fetching?
Is professing a hobby?
Time consuming that
Pablo Picasso
Was never called an asshole

I need to paint every day!



posted on Mar, 18 2008 @ 11:47 AM
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Last nite I kissed a
perfect stranger,
Leaning up against
her Mercedes, in
the parking lot of a
funky bar in the E. Mts.
She was warm and
smelled of pinion
and peanuts.
I never saw her
eyes, but I felt
her lonliness thru
her levi jacket.



posted on Mar, 18 2008 @ 06:53 PM
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Funky mountain bars
Watch out for the he shes
When in your cars

Loneliness through the jacket
And erection through the jeans
That chick has a nut sack, #!

Say thank you and goodnight
Walk away from that, that mess
But always be polite

She's six foot two
Thumbs bigger than yours
And an adam's apple dude

Are you that drunk?
Are you blind or indifferent?
My own nuts just shrunk

Say thank you and goodnight
Walk away from that, that mess
But always be polite

Say thank you and goodnight
Walk away from that, that mess
But always be polite






[edit on 18-3-2008 by Excitable_Boy]



posted on Apr, 6 2008 @ 09:41 AM
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The second angel said
"Im being bad" "I ran away"
"will you hold me"
Then lets drive fast
into the Mountains
And Smell the conifer's
evergreens mingled
with skin and gasoline.

I can't be your lover
you're crazy in the head
besides I'm busy
making mountains out
of molehills, climbing
to the summit, and
looking down, hoping
to find/see the
third angel or the forth.

Well, God Damn
Lookee Here...
Sancho Panza, Don
and the Cisco Kid
came in on the nite
flight from LA.
Open up the cases
Let the amber lights glo
and chase the blues
away.
Cisco, Meet Carol
she's an Angel,
A sweet flower of the
South. Only slightly
defective and lonely.
Bohemian cactus
blunted thorns


[edit on 6-4-2008 by whaaa]



posted on Apr, 30 2008 @ 02:13 PM
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Just a Little Slack


I claim she wasn't a lier
she just made up what
she thought to be
the truth.
In some cases she lied
in some cases she told
the truth.
In some cases she said
what other people
wanted to hear.
What do you expect
from a white girl
from Texas?

Anyway she smells
like soap and cigarettes,
tequila and beer
A barroom goddess
waiting for her
salvation in a neon
shrine of lies,
where art is the
only truth.




[edit on 30-4-2008 by whaaa]






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