Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.


dirty boots
and greasy hair
wave a cigarette
about in the swirling air

on the matress of weekend sheets
spilled cotton candy perfume
sin and collisions
smeared on the latex
on the varnish
on the tiles

a fan whirls
the sweet motor hum
long hairs
straying on the pillow
an arm draped
full of soft down
in the light
creeping through
the venetian

full lips parted
glistening in hot pink
and dark sky rimmed
dreamer blues

above the three phase
pressing down
like darkness in the walls
lush tall grasses
and asphalt
with burn out tracks
iron grates
wounded waiting
for succelent rains
in a whiskey colored river

twisted thong
and ipod rap songs

like steam shower
and television
static station

tan lines
beyond the beach
the overgrowth
and rusted rails

slow hours
like wild garden snails
violence on
winter flesh

thrown in a turn down
dark as death

tunnel visions
in heat full branches

an eye catching
supplements of

youth lost
desire tossed

Editing stage: 


I can almost feel the aftermath migraine aura settling in. Still, the destructive desire pulls like gravity. Sin and collisions and the oppressive heat, heat, heat. I feel about this poem like I feel about New York City. I'm glad I experienced it but I never want to experience that sensory chaos again. Good stuff.

as a lost youth safely on the edge...suburbia and mid range..
enough legit jobs and a fam to keep an eye on me...

i read books..movies..late night cinema..the more daring
once the normal went to bed...the night shift vampires
with clockwork minds arrived...

and all the Stephen king stuff..

heavy metal mag and hustler.
enough rock albums about
to fuel the creative verve
and fm radio then in the late seventies
and early eightes..
dad worked away
brother had a life
sisters had left onto a new life
a new man away.

i was into sweetness and flowers
loyalties and dedications...

then i met real women..
lived with them.
they said was fun..
they pushed it beyond all males..
they blew minds and motors
and laughed

wow crowd..

doors movie hit the movie screen
and the nightmare before christmas
the crow.....summer storm destructive
our way..and our long falls...
the fat flaked christmases in our\
town then riding on the excess ..
unlike now..closed plants..and resorts
hurting for that thin sliver of the ultra
elite whom shall always have money
for relaxing..

i was never the dark one..
like these poems

then i got internet..and in looking for
my vintage eighties songs.
got the videos that went with everything
and then the rock covers....

then my woman got me listening to the
heavy metal..explained lyrics to me
and another brought me up to speed on
all the details and stats on the band
the singers..

the actual voyage of the damned
then continuted with my rewatching all
the bent movies we saw in high school
in the auditorium...
apocolypse now..
the thing
the shinning

then graphic novels came out
comix revived into mainstream
i discovered konami dark games
like silent hill one.still a classic
then playstation driving games
the anti heros behind the wheel
with soundtrack and sometimes
driver view...

grew my hair long...lost weight
wearing silver rings
dress shirts like the dude
ralph fiennes from Strange Daze..
saw Bringing out the dead..etc..

saw the real world for a time
submersed in addiction
writing poetry

found marylin manson whom i didnt
get...saw the pulp movies quentin
and a girl who looks like rose mcgowan
liked me....
so i got into those...

met more intelligent women who liked
the bad boyz..
who waste no time
speak the womens language

then read Torn Skirt
for the characters and dialogue
and lost my contacts
i flirted with.

kind of grew bitter..and dark..
and sad...

and quit drinking after
years and years..
and my brain started to dream
and have vivid memories
its the shadow that gives depth
to the light

even the title is from
last tango in paris
motive is a television show


wonderful stuff..
great for writing
etched in my head forever..

like a flashbulb imprint on silver
celluoid rolls of a crime scene
a mind scene
weird scenes
of the inside

poetry..what a concept..

thank you..

author comment

as loved and now lovedly
in my esteem
you 4 ever rise high!

has been a rhythm
set to music
Waylon, Tanya, Willie
calmed a savage beast
that suckled mother's teet

and I mean but
it wasn't enough
Michael gave us some grooves
and heavy metal became somewhat
the thing
before punk
pogoed into my steps
and the Chili Peppers
wore three socks
or was it one?

Social Distortion
not just a band
a way of life
Winners and Losers
which one will I be today?

the sun was no longer important
how could I save the night?
keep this chess game
and cigarette smoking
and coffee drinking
blue coat

not long enough
as life
and those who looked at my appearance
long hair, black clothes
with holes and such
called me
God Damned Good For Nothing
those words from a familiar voice

I chased the punk rock life harder
you can't stop me now.
Intelligence on adrenaline
take that
Mother Fucker
and then some

Who do I think I am?
Who the F do you think you are?
I'm nothing
and good for nothing more
yet you ask me to help you
and others
their others
in the name of a god
I cannot and will not believe in

because he doesn't listen to the music
I listen to
he just plays a harp
a melancholy strum
to put me in a place
that couldn't hold anymore rage

so i threw a dart at the balloon
and ran like a vic
trying to escape his killer
to turn up the volume


Reach For The Sky

cause tomorrow may never come


(c) No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.