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Not gonna write you a love song: Challenge

annaswirls said:
I think I may have emptied my gumball machine of colored "falling in love" sweets. They used to roll for free. Now I keep putting in the quarters, turning metal, nothing but powder.
Click to expand...
Confectionery

My oversweet loves
always start
out soft candy hearts

that melt silkily on sleek tongue.
But they puddle when laid
in too much sun

on my carpet, on my bed,
and the long, messy smears of FD&C red
stain shrouds for burial of their dead.



.
 
I'll write you a lust song
full of nipples and hot snatches,
whispers and moans.
One to writhe under
a body kissing, chocolate smearing
licking, full blooded
get it on song.
Love I'm not giving
not to you anyway,
but lust
well that's a good way
to spend an afternoon.
 
Love's A Beach

you stand in the sun
your voice heavy-sweat wraps like an undertow

you wield your smiles and sighs surgically
I tend my wounds stoically

under sun and raybans
we tan a pattern of self-inflicted memories
that leave no visible scars

you walk away
I burn

maybe we can do it again tomorrow?
 
or maybe just as much

I never understood it back then
but there is a reason some beautiful women do this thing,
since adolescence they seem to know
how keep a safe distance
play the "bitch"
don't lead the boys on,
crack the hearts before they fall any harder

I don't write you poetry
You like it too much.
More than I am allowed to like you.
 
Quarters in pocket my
oversweet loves always
start out oversized gobstoppers

Mouth filling, I cannot even speak
or move or think without the insistent presence
of you, of us.

Could this be the everlasting?

But color by color fades into white,
cherry fades into white into lemon
fading into blue layer after layer
discovered, tongue sugar sore
with exploration, exploitation

we dissolve down, secrets uncovered
until we are soft, small
small in the corner of my cheek
small in the corner of my mind

clicks on teeth for attention
make me want to crunch it all down
into powder
and decay

Quarters in pocket
insist.



Tzara said:
Confectionery

My oversweet loves
always start
out soft candy hearts

that melt silkily on sleek tongue.
But they puddle when laid
in too much sun

on my carpet, on my bed,
and the long, messy smears of FD&C red
stain shrouds for burial of their dead.



.
Click to expand...






.
 
Last edited:
annaswirls said:
Bogus, you are a virgin again. Stitch these together and you have a chapbook ready to print.
Click to expand...

maybe I'm just a sour cynic
love for me is in the parting
the nostalgic back glance
the false memories, all the if onlys
I can only write love poems
when its far too late


I think I could do this all day, maybe I should collate these dittys. At my age I've got so much experience to draw on, upset too many women for my own good and I've been twisted and scarred by too many women in my turn......

...still, I'd like to be twisted and scarred a little more before I retire wounded from the fray.:D
 
.

The last note played
to smokey dull applause
he looked for
the smile, too slow to hide
her flicker of contempt
the song was over
the last note played.
 
You ask why?

I dunno why I
stopped writing
love songs for you
(to you, about you)

maybe it had something
to do with a lack of
words that could compare
to the feelings we
shared just between
ourselves

before you went back
to your husband.
-----

:cool:
 
I am an iconoclast
my body is a temple
I drink, smoke and fornicate
and spend too much time with you
just to fuck up my sanity
 
Your love song

So -
you want love songs?
and I want sex.
Gimme, gimme always gets
a man has needs that must be
met before any bloody love songs
Just lie back and
spread 'em,
I'll do the rest.
Then I'll sing you the best
bloody love song
you've ever heard.​
 
Tristesse2 said:
So -
you want love songs?
and I want sex.
Gimme, gimme always gets
a man has needs that must be
met before any bloody love songs
Just lie back and
spread 'em,
I'll do the rest.
Then I'll sing you the best
bloody love song
you've ever heard.​
Click to expand...

LOVE the play with childhood rhymes and especially ADORE the hard stops!

IE:
a man has needs that must be
met before any bloody love songs
 
Last edited:
bogusagain said:
maybe I'm just a sour cynic
love for me is in the parting
the nostalgic back glance
the false memories, all the if onlys
I can only write love poems
when its far too late

...still, I'd like to be twisted and scarred a little more before I retire wounded from the fray.:D
Click to expand...

whiskey sour pour me down
drain wasted, love is in the space
between us when you put me down,
cubes floating
ice cracks before melting
I twist you like a cherry stem
between tongue and teeth.

We pull the seal, let the solvents
escape before pressing back in
bound for now, tight lock
like legs wrapped around
for one more upward press

pretend with me
that we believe this bond will last
I taste your shoulders, they still
hold the strength of the leaning in
palms pressed you find
my deepest spaces we pretend
you will stay, this lover's act,
tighter the seal, the deeper the scars,
the deeper the valleys to run that river down
 
Last edited:
annaswirls said:
whiskey sour pour me down
drain wasted, love is in the space
between us when you put me down,
cubes floating
ice cracks before melting
I twist you like a cherry stem
between tongue and teeth.

We pull the seal, let the solvents
escape before pressing back in
bound for now, tight lock
like legs wrapped around
for one more upward press

pretend with me
that we believe this bond will last
I taste your shoulders, they still
hold the strength of the leaning in
palms pressed you find
my deepest spaces we pretend
you will stay, this lover's act,
tighter the seal, the deeper the scars,
the deeper the valleys to run that river down
Click to expand...


I’m not a crucifix
to nail your sacrifice to
you made the martyr’s choice
you used me as the cross
those nails bloody hurt
 
bogusagain said:
I’m not a crucifix
to nail your sacrifice to
you made the martyr’s choice
you used me as the cross
those nails bloody hurt
Click to expand...
These nails drew red spatters
upon this shroud of linen
and pinned you high
upon this crucifix, a cross
to bear as heart's blood
stains a soul turned black
without the angels'
gathered in a choir to sing it.
So who am I to write
just another love song?
 
annaswirls said:
whiskey sour pour me down
drain wasted, love is in the space
between us when you put me down,
cubes floating
ice cracks before melting
I twist you like a cherry stem
between tongue and teeth.

We pull the seal, let the solvents
escape before pressing back in
bound for now, tight lock
like legs wrapped around
for one more upward press

pretend with me
that we believe this bond will last
I taste your shoulders, they still
hold the strength of the leaning in
palms pressed you find
my deepest spaces we pretend
you will stay, this lover's act,
tighter the seal, the deeper the scars,
the deeper the valleys to run that river down
Click to expand...

Beautiful, Anna, particularly the last line. :rose:
 
Last Night- Traveling Wilburys

annaswirls said:
this says so much.....
Click to expand...

Lovely challenge, annaswirls!



She was there at the bar, she heard my guitar
She was long and tall, she was the queen of them all
Last night, thinking about last night
Last night, thinking about last night

She was dark and discreet, she was light on her feet
We went up to her room and she lowered the boom
Last night, thinking about last night
Last night, thinking about last night

(bridge 1)
Down below they danced and sang in the street
While up above the walls were steaming with heat
Last night, thinking about last night
Last night, thinking about last night

I was feeling no pain, feeling good in my brain
I looked in her eyes, they were full of surprise
Last night, talking about last night
Last night, talking about last night

(bridge 2)
I asked her to marry me she smiled and pulled out a knife
The partys just beginning she said, its your money or you life
Last night, talking about last night
Last night, talking about last night

Now Im back at the bar, she went a little too far
She done me wrong, all I got is this song
Last night, thinking about last night
Last night, thinking about last night​
 
It looks nothing like love

but it is, roped and edged with rage.
I love that sound of ashes in your cry,
the fear, your conflagration.
I love how you burn
down to the skeletal and nameless.
I can use your open flesh as fire
and chisel your names clean from the stone.
Who that loves would do this? How can this
raw pain and hard arch be kind?
 
because you never read
you don't deserve these words
you only parse, no process no teeth
no tongue that sucks salt from syllables
you chew and fill you belly with words
that wants to be rubbed
against the roof of your mouth

because you never act
you forgot that love is not comfort
you can't lean back into it
and watch flies buzz and butt their
tiny heads against a window
no, love is to walk up and open
the hatch or to break the glass
with your skull

because you never hate
with red hot fever, because you never
cause bruised knuckels to whiten
on a clenched fist, never tear out pages
from holy books, because you're never
so tired you bite you hands just to feel,
because you're never so horny
you can't breathe

because you never act
never bleed
never read

you don't deserve these words
you don't deserve this fight
good riddance
good night
 
we had become a cliche
I wanted to be in your arms
you wanted me in your hands
I ducked, dived and dodged
your need for commitment
until you went off in search
of another man and I realised
you wanted commitment
not a man
 
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