Not gonna write you a love song: Challenge

annaswirls

Pointy?
Joined
Dec 9, 2003
Posts
7,204
Pretty sure it is a universal syndrome. Let's see....

Challenge:

Why I don't/won't/can't write poetry about you.
For you.
With you.
Around you.
Because of you.

Why I don't wanna write poetry about you
for you with you on top of you.

Why don't you write poetry for me
beside me inside me to guide me

and any variation on above theme...does not need to be love involved-- I never write poems about my mother-- maybe I will in this thread-- post old ones if you got one, new ones if ya don't.


"I need a better reason to write you a love song today"



Because as I told my kid, Miss Sara here writes a love song while not writing one. Here's to the ones who are on the outside of our inspiration zone, even though they may be critical people in our lives. Or not. Just write.


Rules:
  • None (as usual)
  • No alpha dogs. I am mutt.


Not rules just requests:
  • Don't try to be nice about it. Just be real. Honest as you can.
  • Don't try to be good. Just be real. Honest as you can.
  • Write a poem, a song, two words, a blurb, a thesis, whatever.



Surely you have heard this song a thousand times
Sara Bareilles
Not Gonna Write You A Love Song lyrics


Head under water
And they tell me to breathe easy for a while
The breathing gets harder
Even I know that
Made room for me it's too soon to see
If I'm happy in your hands
I'm unusualy hard to hold on to
Blank stairs at blank pages
No easy way to say this
You mean well but you make this hard on me

I'm not gonna write you a love song
'Cause you asked for it
'Cause you need one you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'Cause you tell me it
Make a break in this
If you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
And all you have is leavin'
And I need a better reason to write you a love song today

I learned the hard way
That they all say
Things you want to hear
My heavy heart
Sinks deep down under you and your
Twisted words your help just hurts
You are not what I thought you were
Hello
To high and dry
And then sleep
To please you
They may think that I need this too
I'm tryin' to let you hear me as I am

I'm not gonna write you a love song
'Cause you asked for it
'Cause you need one you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'Cause you tell me it
Make a break in this
If you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
And all you have is leavin'
And I need a better reason to write you a love song today

Promise me
You'll leave the light on
to help me see
Daylight my life on
I believe there's a way
You can love me because I'll say

I'm not gonna write you a love song
'Cause you asked for it
'Cause you need one you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it
Make a break in this
Is that why you wanted a love song?!
'Cause you asked for it
'Cause you need one you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'Cause you tell me it
Make a break in this
If you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
If your heart is no where in it
I don't want it for a minute
Babe I'll walk the 7 seas
When I believe that's there's a reason to write you a love song today
Todayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy yeah!

Ohhhhhhhhh!
 
why I don't write you poetry


over shoulder
even through plaster you watch
you watch for slipped keys, run away kites
crooked signs of life


overtime your try
identify warped suspects
as my lines line up
you look only for yourself



aka now defaced

I lie like a penny on the track
behind fence peering you wait
til whistle and wheels pass
you wait to collect the change
 
taking the long way home
past the railway cutting
I would tell her I loved her
if only for the day
life was like that
a discount store
you took what was in stock
pleased to leave with change



we were a coagulation
a chemical reaction
butter gone rancid
milk gone sour
a form of decay
I never loved you
I don't love you
you were just there
repulsing other men
I needed a bed to share
a body for my frustrations
you were there
 
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I rode pillion on the way back
BLIP BLIP VRROOOOOOM!
the engine belched and growled
as we thundered up Spandauerdam
my hands clenched onto your leather clad hips
animal skin stretched over animal
leaning over you as though to take you
not that I was in control, I was hanging on
I am always hanging on, as we
race headlong into some new adventure
each morning I think I’ll leave before the crash
each morning I think of you, stretched naked before me
a road into some new adventure
just one more time, just one more time
I'll grow tired of this manic world you inhabit
I'll wake up and see you for what you are
clutching onto your youth as you take the final bend
older, tired and somewhat ugly
 
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you accuse me of being a teenager
a permanent adolescent
hid in the corner of some darkened bar
emoting into my beer
as Leonard Cohen groans away
well I’ve got news for you
Hildegaard is singing the joys of Berlin
the blond haired barmaid is called Elga
she’s single and got great tits and I’m thinking
I want to bury my face in them


God, I love this thread, I've got a life time of grievances to spew out.:D
 
all too often nowadays
my mirror refuses to lie
so when you offered me saurkraut and beer
for repairing your lights
I thought, why not?
you've got a great arse
 
You don't deserve a love song.
I won't get into the betrayal
or the years of frozen silence,
a metaphor that surrounds me
in dirty white ground, denuded
trees, ice fields I'd love to shatter

though in truth even when spring
flows in on a lark and a breeze,
when bees wake up, when pine buds
scent the shivery morn and lilacs
promise the afternoon, I will still

be harboring that chip of ice.
It may have transmogrified
to a diamond by now. Oh
it's still sharp, it can still
pierce but I just keep it
pocketed

or use it to scratch out
whatever love song I ever
might think you deserve.
 
I left everything
all I wanted was to be free



You never even mentioned me once!

found my diary
Searched my computer
no where
nothing
 
Diary

I

I’d write you a love poem
but you wouldn’t appreciate it
you are far too practical
everything in your life is utilitarian
even my cock

II

before dawn you rise
I often rise with you
but I know its pointless
you have to fill your day
with more important things

III

in some dusty corner of our past
you showed your appreciation
for my sad and battered hero
kissed it in admiration for its action
beyond the call of duty

IV

it was never meant to be this way
I did my best to resist
thought of you when you cared
but neglect made my salute all the harder
and Elga just happened to be naked

V

madness is living with you
madness is a cock between my legs
madness is beautiful women
walking down Kurfurstendamm
madness is ignoring them

VI

for a brief moment
contemplating the mysteries of life
I thought of you with nothing on
how you moved about a room
how once my cock would have stirred

VII

I must have been having a breakdown
something came over me
the sight of you in the shower
the thought of Elga in my head
I considered the consequences and made a pass

VIII

the last time the snow was this deep
a set of your footsteps led from my door
they never returned because when you did
the snow had thawed but I’m still not sure
if you returned at all
 
Not gonna write you a love song
'cos you won't read it, not properly
not right through.
Just key words here and there
so they only make your sort of sense
at the end.
 
Sorry, I can't not can't not write a love song, or write a not-love song, because:
I fall in love too easily
I fall in love too fast
I fall in love too terribly hard
For love to ever last​
Yeah, I know: Wimp Guy. But, hey! At least I'm always in love. :rolleyes:

But then, here's my man who is most definitely not in love. (Reminds me of our bogus, in a good way--cranky, but you somehow like him anyway):
The Convertible
Irving Layton

Her breath already smelled of whisky.
She lit a cigarette
And pointed to a flask in the glove compartment.
Then our mouths met.

She placed her hand on my groin;
She hadn't bothered to remove her wedding ring.
Her eyes closed with a sigh.
I was ready for the gathering.

You, Dulla, may prefer maidenheads;
But give me the bored young wives of Hampstead
Whose husbands provide them with smart convertibles
And who are reasonably well-read.​
My own sad, sad contribution might sound like;
I wish I may, I wish I might
not be in love with her tonight.
Oops.
I am, though.​
;)
 
Nothing says anti-love song quite as beautifully as Hip Hop lyrics:

See i dont, know why, i liked you so much
I gave you all, of my trust
I told you, i loved you, now thats all down the drain
Ya put me through pain, i wanna let u know that i feel
Fuck what i said it dont mean shit now
Fuck the presents might as well throw em out
Fuck all those kisses it didnt mean jack
Fuck you, you hoe, i dont want you back


(You know there is two sides to every story)
See I don't know why you cryin' like a bitch
Talkin' shit like a snitch
Why you write a song 'bout me
If you really didn't care
You wouldn't wanna share
Tellin' everybody just how you feel
What I did was your fault somehow
The presents,I threw all that shit out
Don't go cryin' you didn't mean jack
Well guess what,fuck you right back​

You thought, you could
Keep this shit from me, yeah
Ya burnt bitch, i heard the story
Ya played me, ya even gave him head
Now ya askin for me back
Ya just another hag, look elsewhere
Cuz ya done with me


You thought you could really make me moan
I had better sex all along (ha ha ha ha)
I had to do your friend
Now you want me to come back
You must be smokin' crack
Im goin' else where and thats a fact
Fuck all those nights I moaned real loud
Fuck it,I faked it,i'll rent you out
Fuck all those nights you thought you broke my back
Well guess what,your sex was wack​

Ya questioned, did i care
You could ask anyone, i even said
Ya were my great one
Now its, over, but i truly mean im sad
It hurt real bad, i cant sweat that, cuz i loved a hoe



You questioned did I care
Maybe I would howl if you wanna come to me
Now it's over
But I do admit i'm glad I didn't catch your crabs
I can't swear bad cause I got to go​
 
I'd love to write you a poem,
a story, anything, even a song
But for that id need to know ya
your closed its so plain wrong

smoke and mirrors
dirty trick
your always hiding
bluff, you dirty prick
 
Love was.

This was a love song
a was not an is song
fading in the last line
last line, the last time.
 
Why You Don't Get A Love Song

I can't write a love song,
not for you, even
though I say I love you
every day.

I don't wanna lie,
don't wanna cry,
don't want your arms,
around me any more.

I can't live a story
that happily-ever-afters,
not right now in forever's
every day.

I don't want your lies,
don't want your tears,
don't want my arms,
around you any more.

Why don't you sing
me a love song and say
how much you love me
every day?

I could live in truth,
could cry in happiness,
could feel our hold,
on each other evermore

if you'd only sing me
a love song.
 
all too often nowadays
my mirror refuses to lie
so when you offered me saurkraut and beer
for repairing your lights
I thought, why not?
you've got a great arse

Bogus, you are a virgin again. Stitch these together and you have a chapbook ready to print.
 
ah I never knew you were such a fool for love! Very sweet.

In love with love.

I read that once and I cannot remember where. Or maybe it was the words of a far away man coming through to me on headphones as to not wake the children, stir the spouse.

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.

Sorry, I can't not can't not write a love song, or write a not-love song, because:
I fall in love too easily
I fall in love too fast
I fall in love too terribly hard
For love to ever last​
Yeah, I know: Wimp Guy. But, hey! At least I'm always in love. :rolleyes:

But then, here's my man who is most definitely not in love. (Reminds me of our bogus, in a good way--cranky, but you somehow like him anyway):
The Convertible
Irving Layton

Her breath already smelled of whisky.
She lit a cigarette
And pointed to a flask in the glove compartment.
Then our mouths met.

She placed her hand on my groin;
She hadn't bothered to remove her wedding ring.
Her eyes closed with a sigh.
I was ready for the gathering.

You, Dulla, may prefer maidenheads;
But give me the bored young wives of Hampstead
Whose husbands provide them with smart convertibles
And who are reasonably well-read.​
My own sad, sad contribution might sound like;
I wish I may, I wish I might
not be in love with her tonight.
Oops.
I am, though.​
;)
 
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