The stoned holy Pontifex of the h… Declares to all the universal good… The Pope of pot states that canna… His highness pontificates about ho… Administering herb freely to heal…
I hold on to you, the thought of the one I loved but I can feel it your hands slipping from mine. Words cascade on my lips but my mouth stays shout, I’ve been so weak that I can’t plead...
The scratches The cuts The hits Don’t hurt any more. The words
You don’t know The monster I’ve become For you can’t see it I hide it well Until I’m around you
Out and in the river is winding The links of its long, red chain, Through belts of dusky pine-land And gusty leagues of plain. Only, at times, a smoke-wreath
Nurse not your grief, nor make obs… When I have shed this flesh I lov… Nor slowly toll the dull heart-bru… Nor carve my name in customary sto… But let the generous earth reclaim…
By Stanley Collymore A truly exciting, and similarly as well a very unquestionably too distinctively appetising meal; that emphatically essentially
Time doesn’t allow for me to sit around and waste air. Life doesn’t let me except my fate. What is death? What is life? My missconception of life is that it is a big ball of lies becaus...
Down deep I feel something changing inside of me, coming to an end, I’ve been her longer than I’ve been you. Seemed like forever she’s been who I am. I know I wasn’t born her, she wasn’...
I told my guest it’s just a poem doesn’t mean a thing a salad tossed with colors bright
If you ever feel sad, know you are my smile. If you ever feel empty, know you fill my heart. If you ever feel alone, know I’m thinking of you, and that my soul aches for comfort on this...
No me despertéis, hostia, puercos, no me despertéis, cuidado que muerdo, lo veo todo rojo. ¡Qué horror! Otra vez el día, otra vez la perrera, la inestabilidad, la actitud. Quiero volver...
–to S. The light lay in shreds across the… only your waking could make it who… resuming its costume of day, its r… which seems to overnight get ragge…
To be. To exist. What did it
The rain is plashing on my sill, But all the winds of Heaven are s… And so it falls with that dull sou… Which thrills us in the church-yar… When the first spadeful drops like…
By Stanley Collymore Lift up yuh voices and shout loud… “Crop Over Festival is once more… Uh time fuh fun an’ relaxation too… nuh inhibitions please, as dat
Deepening these ray burned rooms I pray those scarlet voices As she cuddles in trees Of my wishing thought Swarmed in a masked vice
Fight with power, fight with love.… Keep placid as violence thrashes t… Search, search in the dark for the… Though unwise souls see this as th… Let their deception be glass in ou…
As the collide halts our motion As the beating heart skips a beat We let the crash echo and we run f… I know where hands hold Grasping the broken glass
She was the glue that held pieces… But my world was a desert. And when the drought hit The sun stared so hard it melted m… And I ended up more fragile than…
Driven pain A heart that beats quickened in it’s pace Falling... Holding on
THAT age was older once than now… In spite of locks untimely shed, Or silvered on the youthful brow; That babes make love and children… That sunshine had a heavenly glow,
i hate that i can’t breathe cant stand how i’m not free i wish that i could be everything you need
Sometimes in the lives we lead, It seems, we’re just going through… Looking for something to dull the… With all our drinks, pills and pot… Nothing on this earth will work,
If Mr. Jones, Lycurgus B., Had one peculiar quality, ’Twas his severe advocacy Of conjugal fidelity. His views of heaven were very free…
Starts with 'T’ ends with 'T’, Smashing in between you and me, In the Remembrance of US, But not worth all this fuss. Dawn and dusk, bran and husk,
How I hate a cold winter day. When you are far miles away. Having no one to hug in this rain. It causes a sexual pain. How I miss
Why should I blush to own I love? ’Tis Love that rules the realms a… Why should I blush to say to all, That Virtue holds my heart in thr… Why should I seek the thickest sh…
(History and Purpose: The following is a modern poet, channeling the eternal consciousness of the Beat generation’s whipping boy, Allen Ginsberg. His long form poem Howl was the celebra...
Fourth in the Fire When I was with you I stayed up all night. Now we have parted, I cannot sleep.