I wish that for just one time you could stand inside my shoes
And just for that one moment I could be you
Yes, I wish that for just one time you could stand inside my shoes
You'd know what a drag it is to see you
Positively 4th Street by Bob Dylan
If You Could Change Places with Me
My friends tell me you
criticize my home, dog,
music, girlfriend, and
everything else about me.
When you see me in the street
you ask how I am doing
but your body language tells
me you don’t care.
You talk behind my back
while smiling to my face
your eyes look away
searching for an escape.
If you could change places
with me you would see
how much of a drag it is
to see you.
Once upon a haven
for now a heathen waif
once unified by craft
now a lowly execrate
for loving every neighbour
for flying a rainbow flag
for once upon a kinship
now pariah what a drag
***
Dedicated to all the poets
who have left for safer sites.
Textbooks,
chalk dust,
young men
full of lust.
School bus,
school bag,
mathematics,
what a drag!
Woodwork,
English lit,
some pass,
some quit.
Autumn leaf,
summer sun,
playin’ truant
on the run.
Fibrolite
prefab,
bunson burner,
science lab.
Trampoline,
gym rope,
girls flirt,
boys hope!
Written: 1992
———
I attended “Rangi”
1974 ~ 1977.
she
suggested
to me that
we have
a wet
t-shirt
contest
i know
her wet
shirt front
would look
better then
my wet
braless top
Oh, what a drag, another day
Is going by so flatly.
A.A.
The life drags on again. As real as a haze
over a lunar sea it lasted for so many
eons that you began to take the life at face
value but luckily it didn't lead to any
fallouts: as before the notional mirage
continues to attract the spurious wayfarers
in a conceptual sand; a verbal camouflage
is still a matter of perceptive faults and errors.
Regretfully, the death is just another wrong
conception. Do not place too high your expectations
on it. The death as well endures for so long
that once you'll get enough of any incarnations.
"You bored me to the death you both, life and death".
I don't remember who said that. May be, Macbeth.
Westward blown…
sprinkled mist of wind’s wisp
bathed in summer’s blazing heat
upon iron frame bench I sit
my legs they dangle above madness,
sandy ledge,
not a cloud shield me from sun’s bake
baking my starving arms…
hunger’s thrum
I wait here for love to come
my eyes they roam the torrent angry sea
splash of wave’s cast swab my face
amid gentle breeze
so consumed with the wind’s mist,
the sun’s bake, the sea’s splash,
my hunger’s sass
I missed the love that walked pass
daydreaming… what a drag!
Reality sucks, right, that's why you get stoned
Yeah, man, reality bites the big one.
They're bombing and blowing each othe up overseas--
Now they've hit our continent with their insanity
Definitley sucks-take another hit off that bong.
Reality suck, that's why you drink-
Gotta escape reality before you go insane.
Serial killers, rapists, pedophiles (have a quick swig)
Corrupt governments, televangelists, corporataions-
It's a bummer alright-pop the tab on that beer.
Reality sucks, yeah, that's why you smoke crack
You find that sense of peace-reality fades.
Police brutality, child abuse, medical malpractice;
What a drag-push that brillo again.
Reality is-when you're broke and need a toke
Reality is-when you stink cause you puked up your drink
Reality is when you're sacked and out of crack.
Doesn't reality suck
D H Loewen
Now I am sitting alone in this
Funny wagon with my boom box
and minding my own business
along with a bunch of numskulls
who thinks I am a nutcase like them—
What a drag! And they think we are
all going to a Funny Farm where
they take those who go bananas!
But I know better because
I am good and dandy--
One hell of a cockscomb dude!
All I am doing is
bamboozling them for now,
Behaving as if I am one of them—
These dolts, dim-witted blockheads!
But, YOU, who’s reading this,
can vouch for me, won’t ya?
Why? Because you are as cool as I am,
It takes one to know one!
You catching my drift, ain’t ya?
~07/16/15
~"Colloquialism" contest by Laura Leiser
Control your jealousy; I convey.
I am not cheating.
I relate.
I am helplessly in love.
Why do you not trust me?
I ask.
I am not a cheat; I blab.
I am helplessly in love.
Please give me my space.
I say.
I am not a w*o*e!
I communicate.
I am helplessly in love.
I state.
With you
Okay!
______________|
Penned April 28, 2014!
Today’s Mick Jagger’s birthday
And it must be quite a drag,
For seven-zero are the years
That he’s got in the bag.
When “Mother’s Little Helper”
Was released and made the charts,
A younger Mick, at twenty-three,
Was breaking younger hearts.
That famous lyric from the song,
While catchy and harmonic,
When issued from his youthful lips
I’m sure seemed quite ironic.
But now that many years have passed
And Mick’s an older dude,
The irony’s no longer there,
Despite his attitude.
So rock on, Mick, and celebrate
Because, if truth be told,
At seventy, you must agree,
It’s no fun getting old!
The discounts are now quite a few
And cause for a feeling that's blue
It's true--what a drag
As the parts start to sag
A bonus for age sixty-two
What a drag they are
Pressure rises until death
Sleep peacefully now
I wrote this poem
Just for you.
This poem is because
You broke my heart in two.
I never knew i could feel this way,
But now i feel it every day.
Sometimes mad,
Mostly sad,
Never happy,
What a drag.
This poem is over,
Whoopty doo!
Just remember,
You hurt me,
Now i will hurt you!
High School, what a drag
My best friend has class today?
Why did she start now?
School for her starts tomorrow
I wish I could have done more
sometimes life doesn't happen the way you'd like it to.
work hard all day to come home to an empty house.
eating alone, watching movies alone, exercising alone.
sleeping alone.
i once prayed that if my life was going to be lived alone,
i didn't want it anymore. i was ready to come home.
i prayed everynight to send me a great christian man.
i thought he showed up, but he vanished into thin air.
twice.
two times, two different people. what a drag.
so i started to pray for a good man.
there he was!
there he went.
a little exhausted, i prayed: ok jesus, send me a fixer upper.
a week or so goes by.
a dinner fixed by a friend led you to me.
you fit like a glove.
six months later and you married me!!!
one year later and i'm still madly in love.
i guess jesus knew that you needed me as much as i needed you.
hey, everyone needs a little fixen up right?!
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.