Poetry competition CLOSED 27th February 2021 4:06pm
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a manís world

poet Anonymous

it's a man's world?

i would never lift a single neuron of anger
nor gripe  
but simply wish to borrow images of minds
to relish in dark corners
with permission
with the simple allowance
that my innocuous desperation
the taught elastic desires pulled so paperly thin
that your mere breath sends shivers down oneís mind
may fondle the echoes of you
i would never even ask for a touch
except from willís intent on thought
but to be allowed to be a reparation
to prove that men can be good
give you pavement to click upon
traversing tenderness i cannot hide
a plummeting center of gravity
from which lowered eyes are pulled
into contemplative suffering
a lift to your sail
as i  
listen desperately to the passing hint of you
to indulge
in its obsession
oh may i please just have that
and i forfeit and ignite bonfires
and move boulders you find obstacles
for all the rest
poet Anonymous

Full Thot

How does it feel to be basic?
I wonder what it's like to be gifted life and just waste it.
Let's face it; that's you, is it not?
You done gone full thot, and your secret is out.
Guess you needed the attention. Sold yourself for some clout.
Now, you'd kill for a mention. What's that shit all about?

What's that shit all about? Shit, that's a serious question.
Don't act like your whole life wasn't a blessin'.
You try to be edgy to hide the guilt that you live with.
You refuse to see you're spoiled and forget that you're privileged.
Acting like a rebel for some likes and a follow.
This ain't a whore competition. You'll regret it tomorrow.
How will they react when your family sees?
You'll have to sever branches off your family tree.
poet Anonymous

We're Not Too Hard To Please

Why do you want to know about what goes whirling around inside my head?
Because Iím able to set a table with a playbill that youíll love to read the spread
My brainís a plain plane about to crash while loaded with methane and propane
So, sit back, relax and watch the explosions and perhaps enjoy some champagne
Iím a respectful dirty motherfucker who is a sucker for a damsel in distress
I obsess to impress with finesse to maybe even conversationally undress
I want to know what makes my woman swoon and swirl to rock her world
And then worship that pearl that the mere thought makes her toes curl
But if there is one thing that pisses me off and it really makes me tick
Is whining and complaining like itís aiming to turn me into a big dick
No pun intended but if youíre offended because I hate any bitching
Then the wonderful magic disappears and there goes the bewitching
I like my woman to be smart with a heart of gold and appreciates the arts
With a good sense of humor, laughs hard at my jokes Ďtil she pees or farts
I like to have intelligent and profound conversations that can last all night
We donít even need to fuck because her mind is what Iíd rather excite
Weíre all flawed in some way and some of us will fuck up from time to time
Donít look for perfection or have expectations that it will always be sublime
Be willing to forgive and learn because I know that trust is hard to earn
And if we yearn to grow then we will get something bigger in return
Let me be blunt and up front, pussy power is our weakness and inspiration
It makes men climb mountains and cross seas for the sake of procreation
We like to swing our dictionaries at our adversaries until somebody wins
I just hope that my very merry hairy vocabulary made you think and grin
Or just keep his belly full and balls drained that his brain will freeze
When the blood rushes out of our heads, weíre not too hard to please
poet Anonymous


Love encased in a picture frame.
But, will it reveal all the pain.
The pain from the unknown,  
The pain of what use to be there but, now is gone.
Yes; gone, but never forgotten.
Yet still rotten to its core.
Because, the more I hear those three words, the less they are really heard.
In through one ear and out the other,  
Flowing like the river of lies we told once another.
Filling each other up with BS about love and romance that's pretend.
Out of fear of being alone when your final day comes to a end.
So we dance, around and around in this never ending cycle of pain.
To end back up in front of the love we had.
Encased in a picture frame.
poet Anonymous

the pocket secret blues


early morning on site
talking work with the crew
none of us with coffee enough to be human
while a line of still-cold diesel engines begin clattering to life
cold all the way to their metal-heart sumps
already heaving away any sense of the quiet life
for another twelve hours

I stand
wearing my boss-heavy jacket
that still smells like all the big-job cigarettes
and I wish I could have just one cold-morning smoke
then I shake that thought away
because one means fifty
and fifty means hospital doors
and it feels too good to be here
being this kind of man
the kind my father would have nodded to in the pub
then I half-smile to myself
know Iím all bullshit
pretending to be one of the hard men
while in my pocket
is a stone she gave me last night
a small crystal she wants me to carry
and I donít question why
itís enough that it came from her
so even if itís bad
itís good
and the men talk
and I talk
small words
and shit and fuck
and get-it-done cunt
and we laugh as hard as those cold-start diesels
while I keep one hand in my pocket
so my fingers can touch the stone
thinking unthinkable things
like twelve hours never felt so long
or cold mornings so beautiful warm

poet Anonymous

My childhood
In the hands of the broken ones
Was being tied to chairs

I didnít break

But I did get angry
And I learned to never get close

Run son

At 50, looking back
Learned that deeper than anything else

I call myself a bachelor
Like to say, truly
That the best women
The ones I like most
ďthe next oneĒ
(Old joke, told until it was true)

All lies
Lies to me

Really Iím 5 years old
And empty

A cage of scars
Fists up

The stubbornest
50 year old 5 year old
In the sandpit

This life

I can put a boat to sea
Lay my fate at the feet of Tangaroa

I can build whatever you need
Dam. No worries.
$1b of tunnels. No worries.
Longest bridge of its type in the world. No worries.

At 50, only a cv behind me
Liquor and broken hearts
Mine too
Mine mostly, cos women know trouble
And the ones who stay
Stay for that

Time to stop
Turn around
And open some boxes
In me

Got a therapist
And the small courage to keep turning up

Itís enough

Some sessions
I start crying
And keep crying
$120 an hour

He nods
Calls me ďdeeply woundedĒ

I want to know how many times
I have to lay myself bare
To this wheel
These whips

He gives the answer
Therapists do
ďItís a journey with no endĒ

The other road, the one I was on, did have an end

A rope or a neat incision, a bender, a dark night, a decision

Fuck that road

Never been so brave
Never been so broken
Never been so naked, skinless, aware of what I am

I cry
I go to work
I cry
I go to the gym
I cry

I keep going

This is a life

Dead men canít feel this

That at least is better
Than the road my father took

Iíll keep my blood in me

And leak tears
For what was

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