Misfits Poems - Poems about Misfits

With hair ablaze a jester unconfined. I scoffed at the mundane its life declined. My wardrobe a riot a rhapsody bold. Mismatched socks my standard stories untold. In classrooms of tedium rules I'd defy Grasping forbidden knowledge 'neath watchful sky. Craving for wisdom in esoteric wells. Chased squirrels with saws casting fanciful spells! Detentions for antics the school's icy stare Derided in classrooms a spirit too...

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We poets, writers, misfits of the world like artist or mystics or troubadours use our gifts to give insight to others we offer more pulling back the covers. We did not fit in with most of our peers. When young we were often taunted to tears. We often were quiet, in our own zone. And most of the time you’d find...

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We poets, writers, misfits of the world like artist or mystics or troubadours use our gifts to give insight to others we offer more pulling back the covers. We did not fit in with most of our peers. When young we were often taunted to tears. We often were quiet in our own zone. And most of the time you’d find...

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We desperately need your help...we have no light in the dark. We are to young for voice...sometimes all bite and no bark. We get pushed aside...and usually forgotten. We just need a chance...we're not all rotten. We come from all over...we are too many to count. Our Mommies didn't want us...our burden was too high an amount. We all search for...

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A bucketful of misfits that is what we were Traveling in pirate seas Waiting for our chances To stop hitting each other We had swords and axes And we were not afraid to use them Some did not make it The ones who did were the most aggressive By the time we arrived to treasure island I was the only one left. The truest bluest misfit of...

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If there was a safe land He would go straight away Crossing with open hands And there hoping to stay He would go straight away Leaving us far behind And there hoping to stay Free from faces unkind Leaving us far behind Never stooping to aid Free from faces unkind And a bond never made Never stooping to aid Subtle thoughts misconstrued And a bond never made Over cobwebs...

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We remain grateful for being alive We wear flowers on our crowns And smile at the sun's warmth We play with the sand and enjoy How it falls from our hand We worry about that which troubles us We care for those who ignite fireworks in us As if, The fact that life is simply a lie Is absent from our minds! How can...

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The ergley-girgley men head south, Inverting their insides to go out, Never speaking, only winking At the waddley ones who wash Their clothes in bleach to kill the flies. Oh, the rank of it. The waddley ones are wide mouthed with awe. Their teeth gleam; Their tongues are rough like a cow's. Hair is swept back, stringy and limp. Their feet rattle when they walk. They...

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A misfit in Liverpool I think of oranges saw a painting by Constable of a morning sun that looked like blood orange dripping nectar down on some fishermen trying to catch eels on the dark surface in the bay. There were sail-ships too ready to hoist sail in the morning wind. When I lived in England...

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Plucking my imaginary guitar from it's star studded, silver case.. Fingers swept this air; ripping notes atop his couch unto her table Next thing I knew we were smashing windows, as kicking out doors Bobby laughed when I tripped their wire then caught Jezabel's chord ? Frantic thus became Daemon's crowd while we hit the high side in delphi....

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Intoxicating sweat of misfits Consuming your glowing banners Robbing free information from the mansions Settled silently in a tight space Peddling sympathy, logic, and fate I'm a poor boy with a dull toy Don't penalize me for your mistakes Dont enslave me with syrup dripping pancakes In the heart of trivial bull*****mounds The purest hounds will release their chains Echoing dreams from raw sound chambers With...

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we were two misfits fitting in with each other in a painting with watercolors. we bled red onto the canvas, blue tears leaking from our eyes we laughingly painted the sky; indigo with our hearts smiling through the black pain he demonstrated lyrical reign and in return, i chose to refrain from fearing him and his mahogany exterior so together, we stood, leaving...

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A flash of lightning on Marilyn Monroe's back lights up the desert sky on the set, as Clark Gable shifts his weary weight on an impatient mustang. This will be his last showdown Here are the ghosts of beauty and pain, almost gone....... Twined together for our greedy consumption, We reap their Golden Years, thirsting for that lost oasis that once was.... Cinema....

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