Home » Poems » Best » Claire Brunow » Best Claire Brunow Poems

Best Poems Written by Claire Brunow

Below are the all-time best Claire Brunow poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Claire Brunow Poem

They All Think They'Re Awesome.

From what I am, i have become, or what i vaugely think.  
so sing my song to play along with the team who thinks i stink.  

i cant become, not even more, than what i have today.  
to see my grades, to write a song, my self-esteem is gay.  

 i think too shallow i think too deep, and, for reasons i dont know.  
i seem use my intelligence to stay out of the flow.  

all the emos with swoopy hitler hair, 
and i see the preppy girlies, not eating, because they dont care?  

straight hair is the sexyest, writing on your arms.  
make sure we know you have friends, or we will raise alarm!  

gay is this gay is that, f---ing this and f---ing that!  
oh em gee, oh aybayaby, it all makes me want to hack.  

myspace me, no text me b-tch! i dont want to hear your voice!  
i met this guy online, and being safe was not my choice.  

i hate to face the fact, that we're really all the same.  
and our stylish tactics and der-der humor is actually kind of lame.  

i dont want applause, i dont want to lecture.  
im just sick of dealing with all the gosh darn pressure!  

i hate trying to be different in a individuality shunting world.  
i hate trying to make friends with all these indistinguishable girls.  

they all insist their different,  "oh i swear i know im unique!"  
well from lookin at ya honey, id say get a new technique.

comforming assholes.

Details | Claire Brunow Poem

Poems Are Fack-Tarded.

Actually, 
as a matter of fact.
I am not a poet.
I promise you that.
So then you ask, why are you here,
Where rhyming and rhythming people are near?
And then I will answer, to your nosing mouth.
That poetry's art, that's what I'm about.
I like craftily putting big words together,
and making bad emotions seem better.
Enjoyment is mine, when I see I have written,
something where my ambition is hidden.
Well crap, I really just wanted to say that.
I'm gonna go buff my cat.
And burn my hat.
And hit my shiny cat into my flaming hat...with a bat.
I bet that cat is fat.
He did bad things with rats.
I hid his ashes under the mat.
Then I pulled down my pants and shat....on the mat...on my shiny cat in the 
flaming hat.

Details | Claire Brunow Poem

High Experience

We sat in a room. 
A bedroom, a messy one. 
One with a mixture of clothes, garbage and drugs scattered everywhere. There 
was random writing on the walls, like grafitti, and the paint was chipping. We sat 
mostly in silence, we knew what was going to happen that night. When he arrived 
we got into the van and he introduced us to his stash. 
We got to the highschool commons. It was a giant building with tall ceilings, 
giant pillars, and big glass windows, and it had no supervision inside. Before 
going inside we smoked some hash outside. There had to be at least 400 
people there. The room had flashing lights, loud music, and teenage wreckage 
everywhere. The people were forming a kind of mosh; their arms flinging and 
they screamed to see if they could out-roar the music. 
The effect was deafening. Nearly all the stash-ridden tables were smashed to 
the floor, so we hurried to the only stnading one left. He dumped his stash on the 
table. 
The lights plus the music plus the emotion made you want to dig into the stash 
and join the mosh. That's what we did, but we didn't join the mosh right away. We 
sat around the table and watched the masacre, finding it overly amusing. We 
laughed at mearly everything as the acid took it's effect. I finally got up to mosh. 

Everything wanted your body in, and it had already stolen your voice, for you 
couldn't hear yourself scream. Before I could get my feet off the ground, I couldn't 
help but notice that there were people making out everywhere, as they moshed. I 
laughed at them, but was jelous. 
I started kissing someone, unsure of whether or not it was a guy or girl. We 
stripped off our clothes until we were nearly naked, but then he/she backed away. 
They rejoined the mosh. 
I stood still, and the mosh parted before me leading me to the glass wall. I 
walked, barefoot, to where it stood surprisingly clean. I took the object in my hand 
and smashed the gleaming wall, screaming with the music. The crowd cheered 
and roared until my ears were ringing and I was nearly deaf. I moshed into the 
middle of the mosh and everyone jumped to my rhythm. I felt hundreds of eyes 
watching me, so I closed my eyes and let my body go. He/she found me again, 
and kissed me again, and the masacre disappeared. Eventually so did whoever I 
was kissing.

Details | Claire Brunow Poem

Marlee Jean

No matter how far she will push....
...her big sister out of her life....
...she always bounces back....
.......finding away for us to never..... 
..be separated or unequal in any way.
She grinds and grits my nerve to bits....
...she has never left an impact......
....with the horrible things she says.
She always knows where to hit me..
...she knows how to make me crumble.......
..at her smaller feet.
Her less than threatening fists.....
.....swing wildly my way...
........whenever she gets mad...
.....which is almost everyday.
Troubled myself with worry for her...
...she ignores my sins....
I am glad to say that she has never followed my path.
I am glad she found the separating fork.
It looks to me as if she has nothing to gain....
...but nothing more to loose.
She treats me like a friend......
a friend who won't just leave.
The only one I have ever....
...set my angry fist upon.
Obviously jelous of her bigger better sis...
...she manages to make me jelous in return.
But she doesn't realize it..
I must say she never will.
I love Marlee Jean more than anything else.
Whatever pain she suffers I suffer.