post d:\subversive literature\bad poetry.
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Is it love or just orgasm
True connection or merely spasm
That I seek
Which makes me bold and makes me meek
To hold and caress
In silken embrace
A million years to stroke her face
To talk, to feel
To emote
(For a fair share of wounded heel)
Do I want a mote to pluck
Or merely just a friendly fuck?
Do I want five minutes?
An eternity?
Am I blinded by the glintz-
Aglittered face with starlight shimmer
Is all I want that facade's glimmer
But what's behind the face
Attracts me too
I talk to her and get a trace
Of what is wrong and what is true
I'll never know
She'll not let me stroke her hair
Or tell me what's really going on in there
All I've wanted
And all I've feared
For the past half a year
Is to be in all her dreams
It's kept me up with nightmare screams
But is it merely that she's cute?
Do I just want her virtued loot?
I think that not
Here's my reason
For to harm her would be treason
And I would sooner die
I hope that this not a lie
That I tell myself-
My feelings bottled on the shelf
Stored for winter of discontent
The saddest thing to my tortured mind
(At least the saddest thing that I can find)
Is that my courage's already spent
On her
'Twas a price I'd gladly pay
For a year or just a day
Sadly, it seems
Her price was higher
Than I could afford
All I had to give was words
And so I failed as a buyer
There are two senses
When people say "lover"
Two types of stresses
I still want both
I'd have taken either
If she'd have me I'd never leave her
But alas, 'twas not to be
And all I've got is poor old me.
The funny thing is, I've long since gotten over the incident, but the poem's probably the best I've written. Feel free to point and laugh- after all, I keep my poetry in a folder labelled "Bad poetry".
Accessing.....
Uploading.....
Upload complete. Self-pity actualization process started:
Is it love or just orgasm
True connection or merely spasm
That I seek
Which makes me bold and makes me meek
To hold and caress
In silken embrace
A million years to stroke her face
To talk, to feel
To emote
(For a fair share of wounded heel)
Do I want a mote to pluck
Or merely just a friendly fuck?
Do I want five minutes?
An eternity?
Am I blinded by the glintz-
Aglittered face with starlight shimmer
Is all I want that facade's glimmer
But what's behind the face
Attracts me too
I talk to her and get a trace
Of what is wrong and what is true
I'll never know
She'll not let me stroke her hair
Or tell me what's really going on in there
All I've wanted
And all I've feared
For the past half a year
Is to be in all her dreams
It's kept me up with nightmare screams
But is it merely that she's cute?
Do I just want her virtued loot?
I think that not
Here's my reason
For to harm her would be treason
And I would sooner die
I hope that this not a lie
That I tell myself-
My feelings bottled on the shelf
Stored for winter of discontent
The saddest thing to my tortured mind
(At least the saddest thing that I can find)
Is that my courage's already spent
On her
'Twas a price I'd gladly pay
For a year or just a day
Sadly, it seems
Her price was higher
Than I could afford
All I had to give was words
And so I failed as a buyer
There are two senses
When people say "lover"
Two types of stresses
I still want both
I'd have taken either
If she'd have me I'd never leave her
But alas, 'twas not to be
And all I've got is poor old me.
The funny thing is, I've long since gotten over the incident, but the poem's probably the best I've written. Feel free to point and laugh- after all, I keep my poetry in a folder labelled "Bad poetry".