Bad Poetry

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Oh damn.
We just laughed and we laughed.
Until we were bored of typing 😀 smileys,
and we started to fight.
Things started going down the drain
and my brain too started walking drunk,
you know going left and right.
I know this is bad poetry.
But haha, I hope,
at least if you would’ve seen it,
it would’ve made you laugh.
I am laughing, too.
But you have me blocked.
Things really shut down
between all those laughter riots
and our amateur jamming sessions,
didn’t they?
Why then, don’t I still have the heart
to erase those .wmv’s we recorded?
Maybe because, like day after night
and night after day,
after you left,
my beautiful mind has gone just haywire.
Stuck there, and my day still dawns at dusk.
So extreme, they were,
our insane sciencey discussions,
the earth stopped upon its axis,
that glazed winter froze,
the minute you were gone,
and life is like a glass ball,
filled with gel and glitters,inside which
the Princess now dances alone
amongst twirling magnificent snow flakes.
All night long.

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Cured of Your Pride

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It’s been long since,

Since i’ve been living on scraps.

Faraway stars too dimmed my heart’s shine,

Once which used to burn as bright as the sun.

It’s been long since a smile sprang up,

Willingly on my desiccated lips,

Which once used to be as plush as a plume.

Blackened by poisons, and waiting,

For your presence in my room.

Hopes never germinate from ashes,

And one that would rise,

I’ve smashed that spark with a painful butt.

And fed it a handsome drink to kill.

It would have burnt me up, I felt.

In no time, an inferno spreading like a wildfire.

I gave up everything, even the hope of winning one day…

Without love, without hope I took to live, in my poor hut.

But then the Phoenix rose, from the wet ashes, outdoor,

And took a flight right through my window.

All the smothered prayers, and beheaded hopes,

Were finally answered in my favor.

Finally destiny brought you back outside my door.

It’s your familiar knock on my door,

I know from imagining you in many of my fantasies,

But it’s been long since I haven’t had that dream,

While I burned all along, hoping to see it all once again,

But then your knock was never heard, when I needed it most.

My ears, exploited with loud music for quick escapes,

Cannot hear it now when it’s really you,

Knocking, on my door.

I wouldn’t ask for your forgiveness,

For my ill behaviour–

Since it’s been long and you never apologized for yours.

But I wouldn’t open up my door.

Once you stranded me all alone, but stronger I am now.

Today I’m a girl out of love, but my heart’s happy tonight.

My pride, you wounded, I broke yours.

Come tomorrow, we’ll share a verse.

High

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O’ you, miserable, miserly wretched geek,

You are poor, even though you think you’re rich.

.

Because numbers in your bank passbook,

Doesn’t stand for smiles that take your look.

.

Waking up, you will see it one day,

You’re left alone, and the world has moved on…

.

All cooped up inside your little nest, you are

Like an angry, very angry bird.

.

As much you want,

You can peck and punch through your walls,

But no ear still, will hear your cries.

.

(You can’t eat your gadgets,

I know you will not ever–)

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Ashtrays will go on piling up, more and more

The dustbin overflowing with paper and rust.

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Decaf will always remain stuck to your mug,

But no one’s home to do the dishes tonight.

.

Old and haggard, you’ll turn with time,

No smile you’ll get, just scowls and butts.

.

Lying in your bed you’ll cough and toss,

But no hand will touch your forehead with love.

.

Then only two options you have: rub your fat snout,

With a clean white sheet, and come out, right now!

.

Or, live in it. And smoke up your life,

Puff by puff, soaring higher and higher,

Like a very angry bird.

By, Cyril Cliffette © 2012