Best Lifemusic Poems


The Panty Melter: In the Absence of Substance

there are “bands”
you know them well---
they play songs to make
women’s undergarments 
fall 
away---
melt & drip down their
legs like
hot
wax
& you also know that the music that they
churn out
is probably written by the same 
round table of producers
who have been manufacturing the same 
formula
which they know works
(working formula + new face = profit for the dying record companies)
for decades now---
the songs are written for them
the music is taught to them &
really,
the only thing that changes are the 
stylists---
you know ya have to keep em’
hip
&
gorgeous for the 
photo-ops.

i wonder what they feel like
inside
when they play & sing the same song
that holds for them personally
absolutely nothing
&
when they look in the mirror before the big show
there is no reflection left to look back
i wonder what it is like to be all
style
&
no substance---
to walk amongst the edge of the earth 
not of flesh & bone
but instead of silicon, collagen, cosmetics,
perfumes, colognes, hair products, tanning products,
& name brand everything
until
the cows
come
moo-ing
home.

for some reason it makes me think of 
courbet’s then-controversial
L’Origine du monde in 1866
with a 21st century metaphorical 
update
where the human form laying splayed open
cannot be discerned
to be
male or female
for be it 
anus or vagina
the panty melting rocker
doing it all for nothing but the
bank
lays splayed open in exactly the same way
a corporate whore
whose national idiocy
puts the pedal to the metal
& drives right on through
looking for something on the other side
a meaning to the 
interchangeable
tunes
but alas,
there is 
nothing.

Grab a Friend and Go To the Show

So excited to see the show

Therefore grab a friend and go 

We see only good music and fun

Not the entire run

We dance and sing

Drink and binge 

With friends we are 

The entire time 

Sing and dance

In a trance

Meet the band

And then we can 

Behind the scenes

Tour bus and hotel

Still not thinking

We can tell

Party on party people

Make that noise

Oh boy 

In trouble we are

Panties down

Now we frown

We did not know

Not all things are what they seem 

Party smiles and in between

Ugly 

Smiles at first

Burst in emotions

Demotion  like a job

From manager to nothing

Rockstar to loser

Carry that with  you

You think your with someone who cares

Beware
 
You are the only one that can think about  you

No one else will hold that degree to compare 

the harm around 

before the music that is fun to go to shady

because you will always be a lady 

even if what you went through was scary

its not your fault

but the elder that is care free 

a liar to himself and his family

fear not but be true to yourself as best that you can be...................

My Movie

Pain is the background music 
of this messed up movie
that happens to be my life
This music is just noise
trying to distract me

Love is the antagonist
the bad guy trying to kill me

The plot is confusing and 
forever changing
and surprising

But the cast is exceptional


Slightly Out of Tune

So now
            the very thing you feared
                                                   has come to pass,
as you
            watch the sand pour through
                                                      the hourglass.
Now the
            autumn trees are splendid
                                                  in their colors,
but your
            windows stay closed, locked
                                                     and shuttered.
Sometimes you
                       hear music playing
                                                   faintly.
Intently listening,
                         your face looks
                                                almost saintly.
In abject
             stillness you watch the
                                              tiny spider weave.
In your mind
                    an illusion,
                                     just make-believe.
Without alarm
                     or even normal
                                            consternation,
you're aware
                    your legs and feet have lost
                                                              sensation.
You see
             the irony that death starts
                                                    at the toes,
as the smell
                  of gangrene wafts 
                                             past your nose.
Shadows seem 
                       to glide across
                                              the room.
Somewhere a
                      piano's playing slightly
                                                        out of tune.
You're like
                 the spider herself,
                                            sitting stone-still in her web.
searching for
                    the music playing
                                               faintly in your head.


©Danielle White

My Agenda

Get up
Thank God for another day
Shower, shave, if necessary
Get dressed
Grab a cup of life, java.
Meet the other commuters
Sleep, with music in ears
Get up
Walk to my building
Grab another cup of life
Answer phones
Fix problems
Write and review, time permitting
Lunch!
Answer phones
Write and review, time permitting
Obey the boss
Time to leave!
Meet the commuters again
Sleep, with music in ears
Step from the bus

I’m free, thank God!

Premium Member Tapping

the music set

my fingers tapping

tap

tap

tapping

my mind runs thoughts 

faster then my fingers can tap

and soon i lose the rhythm

from which the music set


???????

I'm not a country red neck
Nor part of any clan
My skin is white like ivory
I am a Caucasian man.

My music of choice is Mo-Town,
Hip-Hip and R&B.
Alternative some, heavy metal, Yes.
I can say that music relaxes me.

I have a fondness for romance
I guess I've been " In Love"
I take my experiences and use them
For my stories of " True Love"

In high school I played football
Slot receiver my senior year
A tall, strong consistent target
We went seven and three that year

Now, a grown man. 
Twenty something.
Middle class, handsome man 
hard working

This merely is a biography
In my own poetic spin
So, I hope you enjoy my little story
Entitled "My White Skin"

Jared Pickett
8/11/05
Asavvy1

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