Best Bohemian Poems
the lifestyle
avant-garde
unconventional
in every way
artist at heart
eccentric
original
his look unique
unlike another
a trendsetter
with
swaggering
flair
AP: 3rd place 2020
Her true instinct's voice is soft-wave heart
yet, bohemian flame sparks zodiac's chart,
wandering through journey's enchanting years
caravan dressed in sunrise , dusk and rain...
I feel her passion stirring once again.
~
A soulful gypsy rustling skirts of fresh dreams
tambourines beat her free-spirit,agleam
and she flame's life dances on moonlit rites
brazen at night then dashing warmth so kind...
her flair exudes an energy aligned.
~
Tiptoeing on fields, sensient like airtrips
in firelight's steps of jazzy, jazzy dips
Oh woman, daring trails never yet glazed
a bohemian in earthy kind of jive
mystic...she feeds on love's tarot, alive.
~
Not to be overtaken by things bland
incense of newness rises at her command;
yet childlike strains are innocence's hues
as romance and virtue send her afire ,
that’s me, a gypsy wrapped by earth-sky's lyre!
Contest: Gautami's Portrait of A Poet
Written by: nette onclaud...7/22/2011
When issuing Globalist threats
it proves best to shed all regrets
of Dull Care lingering,
still busy fingering
all across those DNA frets.
The Bohemian Grove
There is a place in San Francisco called the Bohemian Grove. It’s a boy’s club you might say. But when is the last time you saw boys offer sacrifices to Lucifer and burn bodies at the stake in honor of their loyalty to him? And when is the last time you saw a bunch of boys planning out who will run for president and for governors and then throw the elections later in their favor? This is subversion of the powers of government. This is undermining the true process of our democracy. I wonder what the American people think about people who do such vile and lewd things? I say to hell with their owl and their altar to Satan. And to hell with all the parties that they throw in honor of their king of hell. When will the children of God take a stand against this immorality? When will we wise up like their wise old owl? The Bohemian Grove is a self-serving cesspool of the vomitus of Satan. The Lord will destroy this encampment and with his mighty right righteous hand bring it to a crumbling halt!
Many of the past presidents sat around tables at this so-called club and drew cards as to who would be the next president. They would get drunk on their own power and on the power of the dragon from the bowels of hell. They had orgies and got so drunk that only the Creator knew of the lowliness of their immorality. Each person that was sacrificed upon this property had their bones buried there. Each person upon this property that was offered as a sex slave unto Lucifer’s minions was ushered to heaven as their lives were taken from them. The Lord’s compassion runs very deep for those who are oppressed and tortured for the antics of the dragon and his minions. Our God rules from a Mercy Seat and as he sits upon his Mercy Seat he delves out the most amazing mercy to those who truly need it.
The Bohemian Grove Boy’s club is really no club at all. It is the organized crime center of Satan! It’s just that simple!
Gwendolen Rix
2-15-15
Bohemian Rhapsody
Their music invaded your organised space
Your soul coerced migrated to another place
I see a silhouette of a man a prophetic phrase
Soulful harmonic interludes those glory days
Into the limelight with a genre so vibrant
Melodies and lyrics emotive just brilliant
A fusion of opera and rock distinctive clean
Only they dared this eccentric group Queen
Freddy’s vocals echoing guitars instantly smitten
Bohemian Rhapsody greatest rock opera ever written
19/8 /2017
recklessly chaotic surrender
midway untrained assimilating
thought patterns struck by twilit
idiosyncratic contractions'
irrational heart dotted i's
of contradictory falsities,
pushing past buttoned loops
orchestrating emotional surges
coasting sideways 'twixt
high as kites' paroxysm
saw Jesus before bloom
was off rose's thornily
fumbled holy water's
bloody crucified testaments
mid looking glass passion
of hysterics death's rallies
standing on sidelines
musing boxed refrains'
hallucinated confusion,
wholly plummeting
metaphorical indulgences
nonsensically dissuading
inartistic translations
of rhetorical persuasions
forfeiting divine secrets
halfway bent chimeras,
trashing an otherwise ominous
shrill screeching revenant
expediting manifested
liquidizing bastardizations'
bantered escapism,
like belladonna and nightshade
intoxication wickedly exigent,
trilling motley eclipses of
darkly boggled gray fog nuclei
burlesquing a bohemian scaramouche
furthermost an elusive raptus seizing
rhapsodically serpentine delusions
A life lived from pure feelings
and self expression,
brings joy and a sense
of peace,
even in the middle of chaos,
to live a beautiful, uncensored,
life, is what God wanted for all
his children,
Being able to revel in the authenticity
of ourselves,
finding acceptance when our inner
demons appear,
allows us to exhale and view the
love that surrounds us.
Written April 1, 2014
I hear the piano pounding through the years
From the old bohemian man across the way
Who's clearly lost his way
In the old abandoned attic above Mr. Guthrie's railway
The strands of lightless lights across the room
Like clothes lines in a Bavarian countryside
Or zip lines to lands far away
His mind does wander from time to time about the time that's passed away
His dreams are only sand in the hourglass
Down to its last grain
Despite the arthritic pain
The piano sounds of a child's exuberance
A teenage prodigy with plans of Carnegie Hall
Not the elderly man who sits before us, cane in hand
With only his hope to lose
Only his dreams left to pawn away
Yet there is still beauty in the old bohemian man
Who's clearly lost his way
Den of the wild things
floating sheets, layers of waves
that haunt,
playing on the shores.
Dipping into the black night
laced around my skin and my soul.
The darkness of my eyes,
the reckless me.
Touching more than
all the wild things in me.
The moon crystal
naked glow,
and I take the plunge.
.
It was my last night
Living by the sea
as you came walking towards me
A French Goddess
From all mens dreams
Would like to talk
Or so it seems
No word was spoke
You kissed my face
My lips, my neck
As we embraced
Our souls entwined
Through our desires
A Goddesses kiss
In a bar on fire
I can't forget your touch
Your face
In a sea of flames
Our Bohemian Embrace
Morning walks towards the bohemian noon.
Before that, she went for a walk
in Romna, a moonlit grove.
Like an adolescent flower-girl,
Morning commencd dancing in the air of dawn
Money flies by the touch of the sweet smell
of lady-flowers
on bosom
on buttocks.
Sweat doesn’t shed in the income of porters.
Now the central AC is on in twice harvesting office.
Wearing suit and tie, all the Satans are sitting there
with greedy eyes.
A herd of black beasts do guard the coffin of Morning.
The blazing noon makes coalition
with the thin dark night.
Yet the Night gradually walks
towards the debris of the shore
like the call girls of a bar.
-------------
Translation: Sayeed Abubakar
When you’re trapped in traffic, at a crawl
And want to scream or curse or bawl,
The radio relief can bring
If there’s a song which you can sing.
My all-time favorite in the car,
From rock & roll’s deep reservoir,
To help my traffic-stress release
Is Queen’s amazing masterpiece.
I belt it out at fever pitch
And to falsetto I can switch.
The highway seems to melt away;
I’m underneath the lyrics’ sway.
And when I hear the ending phrase
I shake myself out of a daze
So grateful that this classic song
Has made my trip a tad less long.
King Power Rhapsody -
printed by the Leicester Mercury after the victory against Chelsea before Christmas
Is this the real life? Or just a fox fantasy?
Man U now Chelsea, it's a Leicester reality.
Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see,
We're not a small club, we need no sympathy,
Points are easy come, easy go,
We hit a high, hit a low,
Depends which way the wind blows
but Leicester's all that matters to me... to me.
Mama, we signed a man,
We paid a million for this guy,
At the time we all asked why.
But Mama, now he's scored again,
And that means that he's scored fifteen so far...
Mama, ooh, our expectations weren't this high
And if we don't top the league this time tomorrow,
We'll carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters.
Mahrez, his time has come,
Sent shivers down my spine,
Scintillating all the time.
Goodbye, Aston Villa, you've got to go,
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth.
Mama, ooh (we play until the ref blows),
Lawro said we'd lose,
I sometimes wish he'd never been born at all.
I see a little silhouetto of a man,
Oh Special One, Special One, will you do the Fandango?
Thunderbolt and lightning,
But he's not even frightening me.
Ranieri, Ranieri, Ranieri Claudio,
Magnifico.
Claudio 'We're just-a Leicester, no-a-body likes us'
Mourinho 'They're just a small club, I don't like them,
and I haven't liked him (Ranieri) since we worked in Italy'.
Easy come, easy go, will the ref not blow?
We just don't know but we'll play until he blows,
the ref says no, we'll play until he blows,
the ref says no, we'll play until he blows,
we'll play until he blows
He'll Never, never
Never never blow
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
Claudio 'Oh, mama mia, mama mia
(Mama mia, let him blow)'
Then Clattenburg puts his whistle to his lips and we,
have all three...
So you think we're just Leicester and can't be this high;
but we're top in December and we could still buy.
We're just never gonna quit, and if you chat sh1t you'll get banged.....
Nothing really matters anyone can see cause we are Leicester City,
Yes we are Leicester City and we're top of the league.
(we play until the ref blows...)
The Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen
The most iconic piece from the recent music scene
A masterpiece emotes
By the first few notes
A recognizable electric composition supreme
Bohemian women have creative, loving, whimsical ways
Floating with delight and joy through most of their days
Most do not take seriously injuries or meannesses of others
These women make the utmost best moms and grandmothers