Goddammit Poems | Examples


Premium Member approximation of love

      

                    two plus two is five 
                that would be inaccurate 
                      however precise 
             he loves me he loves me not
            goddammit ~ he hits the spot 


By
David Kavanagh
Form: Tanka

Premium Member Mother Said

How many times must I tell you, monster?
Goddammit, I think it must be the twelfth.
Again! With mud on your feet, in you traipsed.
You are making me extremely angry. 

Goddammit, I think it must be the twelfth.
No Mom, I think it might just be the eighth.
You are making me extremely angry. 
Hey, Mom, can I have a jelly sandwich?

No Mom, I think it might just be the eighth.
For dinner, you will have room for nothing.
Hey, Mom, can I have a jelly sandwich?
Why do you give me such a big problem? 
 
For dinner, you will have room for nothing.
Again!  With mud on your feet, in you traipsed.
Why do you give me such a big problem?  
How many times must I tell you, monster?
Form: Pantoum


Premium Member science lesson at the school disco

   the music was pretty flat ~ but her sun shone in stereo that day

   mono was never enough for me ~ double vision leads me astray

   anyway i couldn't stop staring ~ inner man gave the game away

   a pretty awkward moment ~ goddammit what am i trying to say

   my first slow dance with a girl ~ physics biochemistry on display 

   serotonin shakes up hormones ~ love and lust obviously not gay


By 
David Kavanagh

#We are what we are, this is not homophobic#
Form: Monoku

Art

Always awake,
Always alert -
Ignoring every bit of hurt.
Feeling all the mortal pains
Caused by all my mortal ways;
It's always more than I can take.
Make it stop, please, for my sake.
For goodness' sake.
For anyone's sake.
Goddammit, this isn't a poem anymore.
It's a blatant cry for help, and a message:
Don't wait for an artist to ask.
An artist paints,
Draws,
Sketches,
Writes the pain -
And not the pains of yesterday,
But everyday.
Pretty colours are demons,
Lines are marching warriors,
And they can only be won when we
Stop seeing their wars as dollar signs
In home collections
And start recognising that every hue
And every shape is something a 
Bleeding heart has made.
Not for me, not for you,
But as a monument to all they've ever
Fought through.
Form: Rhyme

Reckless Beauty

Reckless Beauty

 She was beautiful in a ruthless way
 A punishing God's unholy creation
 Taunting men with a brutal lack of conscience
 The whole world was in love with her
 and she couldn’t care less
 So she went on with her charmed life
 Goddammit, that girl was blessed
 with the true nature of evil
 and I loved her for it
 But she'd just look away,
 murdering me with her silence
 To her, I was about as memorable as a
 scrap piece of newspaper being swept along
 in a dry summer breeze
 Feeling her truth was PURE SUFFERING


comments?


A Poem Toy

I don't have toys
	And I don't care for any of them either.

	Well no, I do. After the death
Of my friend Dasvina Lee and I loved for a Baby doll.

	I asked to my mother if she could buy
One for me with the next C.F.W.C.P. check.
	She stopped backward; and at first
I got the idea she will be buzzing around
The house looking for a cigarette butt
'Cause she has ran off cigarettes.

	And then she bent forward
And stared at me as you stare at yourself out
	Into the mirror browsing your stomach
Upon a hushed thought, and a human fist as a bad sword
Like that, exploded: "Shutta **** off, stupid girl!"

	And then, right on, she pushed me. 
Like that, and she said, "Go and clean up this
Mess! Now!"

	"You can play with yourself," she added 
Brutally, "if you're so goddammit lonely!"
	Though she never really made it so easy
Just a sort of wet concrete admiration,
I tried to smooth it, but the following was uglier:

	After a third try she hit me again. It was like a
Thunder light, burning on the skinny body
And at the same time it was running through a hybrid
Shore between my soul and my heart.

	Leaving no doubt it was all what I'll get
From her and the damned toy shall be called
	Off.

Ordinary Doesn'T Speak To Me

love is some double-edged sword
love is some cliche that still sounds good
riding off the tip of your tongue
into the space of darkness hiding in crawlspaces

love is a blindman beating at my door
he wants in but i'm too afraid of what he'll do
stay out of my house goddammit
then i look and see and it's only a tree

god is alone in me
he takes life from life
spins it on its heart
bleeds in, bleeds out
blood is oxygen
crutches saw down the bone
to a thin paste
helps me cover up my heartstrings
once so easily exposed

i couldn't stand another night without you
or yes, i can
i could stand this whole life without you
but i don't want to

just don't make me buy a house
don't make me mow the lawn
don't make me wash the car
don't ask for that wedding in the stars

i don't want to be ordinary
what do you want?

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