crookedsmile's picture

Shakespearean

No point denying; I'm abdicated.
Your detached apathy says it all.
In the wasted hours oscillated,
I learned to love, to hate, and to crawl.

I must believe you love to see me cry,
Or is it possible you're that naïve?
You deceive then chuckle, smile while you lie
Should I laugh out loud or begin to grieve?

Am I too much too soon, or not enough?
Have you pinn'd down my ev'ry flaw just yet?

crookedsmile's picture

I've been gone awhile...not that you guys care. of course.

Mass consumption
of my own naive ideals
dissatisfaction never heals
unless you practice self starvation
thats the key to the seven seals
I ain't one to ignore how I feel
I have faith in rebellion fuck religion
Go ahead and assign your cure
be it money or love
just remember you are full of shit and nothing
yes nothing
is pure

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she would always call me such a stupid girl

she would always call me such a stupid girl.

such long cupped
fingers, pythoned
above my collarbone.
guiding me
off my feet
and against the wall,
as the back of head
kisses the
poorly painted plaster.
and in that moment you
became the milky way
in my eyes;
mouth agape for
another embrace of
palm to cheek that
leaves that metallic
taste on my teeth.
I lick away delicately,

crookedsmile's picture

Name Unknown

Did your world meet ours?

Have they found a way to coenciede.
Did they meet and combine or did they simply collide.

I didn't think it would fit,
Your world of plastic dreams...

Those incongruous smiles,
That petty pleather bag of emotions.

Have you gone too far?

Did you sink too deep,
or is it that you've climbed too high?

Maybe but I guess I'll never know...
Unless your world meets mine.

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From within frames.

Alright...I did this one in class. We had a weird supply. And he got mad at us when we were swearing. But he did it in a weird way. Kinda creepy. Have you guys ever had a supply like that?

Rude Things* he said *Rude Things*
And Talk trickled out of the room
Like a T.V. image
Fading out with a dull 'ping!'

Long, polished fingrenails-
Echoing the beats of a
Flower-Power-
Drummed the silence in;

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crookedsmile's picture

Misleading

It drips from my toungue like acidic blood
Oozing rivers of torment
As you sink in the mud
Of my own creation a chemical reaction
Your face contorts with each contraction
I warned with painted lips
And wide innocent eyes
That most don't believe I'm capable of lies
But I told you to remember
My whispered breathy words
That fell so easily
And took wing with the birds
I spilled the mess that you can not recover

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Statue

I throw a flower at your locked door,
and turn to stone waiting for you to see it.

I’d be this statue in your garden,
stand through rain and sun,
as all the seasons come and go,
if it means that I can watch you
walk on these paths
under reaching branches
of oaks, and silver maples.

But you never come here now.

This graceful face is pinching.
I’m tired of this ache,
like separation.

crookedsmile's picture

Divine Madness

Well...what can I say. Was in a bit of a silly mood.
I think it's impressive how I managed to create new words to fit my rhymes...
Pulling a Shakespeare there.
Yeah...just be glad you don't know me for real.

Divine Madness

They say that artists tend to be
a little bit screw-loosey.
I've seen it's true, so let me add
a poet's faults are juicy.

Some drink a lot and do bad drugs,

crookedsmile's picture

Tegan and Sara - Want To Be Bad

All of you should download this song.
It's freaking amazing.
The lyrics might not seem that good,
But the music is awesome.

Want To Be Bad

Your crowbar swung
Through the, the restaraunt
More like a pub
Yeah we, we drank a lot
Don't get in
Over your head

I just want to be bad
oh oh alright
you're so tragedy
and you were hard on me

you might be dead
but it's hard to know

crookedsmile's picture

Amp

Turn it up why don't ya
You could always make me cry
Pump up the decibels
Drown it out so I can hear me die
Don't want to miss it
I'd really be let down
This is the second time it's over
Time to lower my standards again
Could you put it on repeat
We don't always bleed when we're leaving
Pulse is up, heart is racing
I'm adjacent to your wall
The notes are floating
I don't condone your methods

crookedsmile's picture

This Might Be A Poem - But Your Guess Is As Good As Mine

The new religion hit them as a
Wave of turmoil and cyanide;
No dared to breathe it in, lest
It plant itself in some unsuspecting
Child's imagination and spread
As a virus... E. coli for the mind,
Eating at morals and the worn, sepia pages
Of religious texts.

No one had planned on exposure
To this blasphemy, laughing
At their perfectly-aligned sidewalks,
At the neutral tones painted into their

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The Plot Thickens. Only Minus The Part About The Plot.

It occurred to me last night, somewhere between shots 5 and 9 of Pepsi, that
a.)Pepsi is good for the soul, and

b.)No one is really interested in the truth, and when I say no one I mean

me, and since I know everyone thinks the same way I do, and by

everyone I mean C, let's just forget this Sunday business and declare today

Lie Day. Go ahead, lie. Lie to me. Lie to yourself. Lie to your imaginary

crookedsmile's picture

Random Stuff

1)I got up reluctantly this morning, already dreading the inevitable stand-off
between myself and the Costco box of Snickers in the freezer. Brushing my
teeth, I stared myself down in the mirror.

"You are in control of your own breakfast foods," I told myself. "Eat the
cottage cheese. You love cottage cheese! If you don't eat the cottage cheese
it will go bad. Don't be a cottage cheese waster."

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Tattoo & Other Poetry

Tattoo

She digs the way the needle burns the skin,
As her hands delve nails deeper into the armrest
In the smokey room filled with more slaves to
The contemporary art of abusing yourself, and
She knows she lives for this. the game of how
Best to hide the pain from the painter as he
Wields his ink to flesh with a sadistic, steady
Hand. and sometimes between buzzes, she takes
A breath and catches a glimpse of the reality

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Some stuff that happened to me.

1)I don't have a blazing headache right now. And it has nothing to do with wine.
Especially the red kind.

2) My Dad was in the process of opening an industrial cardboard box containing
a DIY desk last night. He was ripping and ripping and ripping with his bare
hands for so long that I was actually briefly annoyed, then I tuned it out,
then I became Hulk-style hyper-annoyed when I became aware of it again.

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