Problems that you can't identify. Slave to your TV. I'm not your mainstream demon. I'm your icon, a beautiful monster...
PUNK ROCK IS DEAD
...AND I'M PUNK ROCK
CATALYST, YOU INSIST TO PULL ME DOWN. YOU CONTRADICT THE FACT THAT YOU STILL WANT ME AROUND. AND IT'S ALL D
O
W
N
H
I
L
L FROM HERE>X
THEN YOU KEEP PULLING ME DOWN.
What a spoiled boy I've been. My mouthful mess, my arms outstretched. I've got palm sweat, I'm smiling like I'm competition. Maybe I'm yours....
My pauses, they're all stops anyway, you say.
When I'm out walking,
I strut my stuff
And I'm so strung out
I'm high as a kite
And I just might
Stop to check you out.
You trip me up
And leave me strangled with your awkward,
Untouchable lips.
You want a proper fix?
Call me.
You want to get your kicks?
Call me.
You want your g's fixed?
Call me.
Me have di remix,
Call me.
'Give me your hungry, your tired, your poor, I'll piss on 'em.', that's what the Statue of Bigotry says, 'your poor, huddled masses, let's club 'em to death and get it over with and just dump them on the boulevard...."
Trailed by a mess of masking tape,
construction paper
the best of intentions
He tried to patch up every hole as he went back and forth
And back again
And his friends half full of half-concerns, embarrased looks and tired words
They burrowed deeper into the ignorant, little lives they preferred
And he envied their distance, their lack of concern
Litter me with small awarenesses........and then ask if i'm good enough.
I walk through the meanest cityytic tsenaem eht hguorht klaw I
The darkest streetssteerts tsekrad ehT
Weight on my shoulderssredluohs ym no thgieW
Scars on my feetteef ym no sracS
You're so glorious, a waste of time. And you're the safety in lying. You're the excuse that I use when I wanna stop trying. Start waiting for the sky to fall.
...god attack our gracious queen, send big dogs after her that bite her bum....
I truly wish you could follow me on my walk through brilliance.
Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
Ooh, they send you down to war, lord,
And when you ask them, how much should we give?
Ooh, they only answer more! more! more!
It ain't me. It ain't me. I ain't no senator's son. It ain't me. It ain't me. I ain't no fortunate son.
It's a cruel world, and I'm a lucky boy....
I'M WAITING TIL THE RAIN TURNS TO SUNSHINE
PUNK ROCK IS DEAD
...AND I'M PUNK ROCK
CATALYST, YOU INSIST TO PULL ME DOWN. YOU CONTRADICT THE FACT THAT YOU STILL WANT ME AROUND. AND IT'S ALL D
O
W
N
H
I
L
L FROM HERE>X
THEN YOU KEEP PULLING ME DOWN.
What a spoiled boy I've been. My mouthful mess, my arms outstretched. I've got palm sweat, I'm smiling like I'm competition. Maybe I'm yours....
My pauses, they're all stops anyway, you say.
When I'm out walking,
I strut my stuff
And I'm so strung out
I'm high as a kite
And I just might
Stop to check you out.
You trip me up
And leave me strangled with your awkward,
Untouchable lips.
You want a proper fix?
Call me.
You want to get your kicks?
Call me.
You want your g's fixed?
Call me.
Me have di remix,
Call me.
'Give me your hungry, your tired, your poor, I'll piss on 'em.', that's what the Statue of Bigotry says, 'your poor, huddled masses, let's club 'em to death and get it over with and just dump them on the boulevard...."
Trailed by a mess of masking tape,
construction paper
the best of intentions
He tried to patch up every hole as he went back and forth
And back again
And his friends half full of half-concerns, embarrased looks and tired words
They burrowed deeper into the ignorant, little lives they preferred
And he envied their distance, their lack of concern
Litter me with small awarenesses........and then ask if i'm good enough.
I walk through the meanest cityytic tsenaem eht hguorht klaw I
The darkest streetssteerts tsekrad ehT
Weight on my shoulderssredluohs ym no thgieW
Scars on my feetteef ym no sracS
You're so glorious, a waste of time. And you're the safety in lying. You're the excuse that I use when I wanna stop trying. Start waiting for the sky to fall.
...god attack our gracious queen, send big dogs after her that bite her bum....
I truly wish you could follow me on my walk through brilliance.
Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
Ooh, they send you down to war, lord,
And when you ask them, how much should we give?
Ooh, they only answer more! more! more!
It ain't me. It ain't me. I ain't no senator's son. It ain't me. It ain't me. I ain't no fortunate son.
It's a cruel world, and I'm a lucky boy....
I'M WAITING TIL THE RAIN TURNS TO SUNSHINE
- Last seen on Nov 30 11:21 PM. Member since December 7, 2005.
- I'm a carnelian hope poet for 110 comments.
- I am a 29 year old guy from Arizona (United States)
- I have 110 comments, 1 contest, 3 poems
My Poetry
-
In the trunk of a car
At the bottom of a lake39 lines, 1 comment, September 5. In Lyrics -
I love Los Angeles. I love Hollywood. They're beautiful. Everybody's plastic, but I love plastic18 lines, June 22. In Thoughts
Guest Book
1 - 4 of 5
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PaintedParisPassion on August 19Hipbones pressed together, in the dark, on your bed, under sheets; your romantic ways of proving best friends can be lovers.
Like the kids we were, getting our kicks while we could. In the summer I was fifteen , you were four months from being twenty.
Numbers never stopped us. Only the man on the moon peeking through the dusty window would know.
The sweetness on your lips left me begging to be your girl.
I was a sucker for romantics, and honey, you topped the charts.
You spoke so soft to further get your point across.
Your words and questions clouded my mind worse than the cigarette smoke lingering in the mid-August air.
"Would you ever hurt me?"
" No, I would die before I ever caused you pain" -
PaintedParisPassion on August 8I see how you are. You can't reply to my emails but you can talk to me on here, lol jk jk. And like i'm going to show it to you lol. You'd just tell me how horrible of a writer I really am.
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PaintedParisPassion on July 30I've already written one, i'm more gutsy-er than you (yes, I had no idea how to spell that)
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PaintedParisPassion on July 26And... You're on, you'll regret it later lol
