http://www.verybadpoetry.com/ en-us The Latest and Worst Niet bedecken.]]> Wed, 28 Apr 2010 09:22:16 -0700 Johan Karrento http://www.verybadpoetry.com/poems/show/The_Heater/ http://www.verybadpoetry.com/poems/show/The_Heater/ As I walk these eight long miles in my flip flops
And think of how your sun never goes down.
As these yellow lines lie in the middle of the road
I trudge towards your house
Hoping you won't lock your window on me since you never let me use the front door.
The moon's too warm and the air is too compressed
And for a minute I think I'm drowning in your arms
But then I realize I'm not
Because I'm alone.

I turn around time and listen close
But all I hear are my empty speakers and the little voices and sounds inside my brain.
As I cut through parking lots
I wonder in my mind's eye if you're doing alright tonight.
And while I almost drown swimming across the lake in ripped jeans
I realize that the night is old and the day is gone.
I'm so tired
But I can't sleep till your sun goes down.

By the time I get home
The house has drown in a sea of silence.
Every sound I make echoes through my thick but hallow bones.
The stairs cry as I step on their dust mites.
A microscopic holocaust scene right before my eyes.
But I keep my head up and my ears can't hear their cries.
My door breaks at the slightest touch
And for a second I nearly faint
Because the adrenaline pumps so loud and so hard that I swear I'll get caught
But I don't.

I turn around time and listen close
But all I hear are my empty speakers and the little voices and sounds inside my brain.
As I cut through the kitchen
I wonder in my mind's eye if you're doing alright tonight.
And while I almost drown in the tears inside my head
I realize that the night is old and the day is gone.
I'm so tired
But I can't sleep till your sun goes down.

Did God drop the world on my brain?
I wonder as I make sure my windows are unlocked.
I crawl into bed and drag the covers over my face.
And then for a second I wish I was drowning
But I'm not
Because I'm obviously alive and breathing.
My empty speakers scream with nothing.
Something in the house creaks but goes ignored.
Everyone is in dreamland.
Everyone except for me.

I turn around time and listen close
But all I hear are my empty speakers and the little voices and sounds inside my brain.
As I switch on my electric blanket
I wonder in my mind's eye if you're doing alright tonight.
And while I count the tiles on my ceiling
I realize that the night is old and the day is gone.
I'm so tired
But I can't sleep till your sun goes down.]]> Tue, 27 Apr 2010 17:49:52 -0700 George Ann Clearview http://www.verybadpoetry.com/poems/show/So_Tired_Im_so_insanely_proud_of_these_lyrics_This_is_by_Bess_Fry_She_sucks_at_writing/ http://www.verybadpoetry.com/poems/show/So_Tired_Im_so_insanely_proud_of_these_lyrics_This_is_by_Bess_Fry_She_sucks_at_writing/ Big, huge,
Strong.
My love for you is like King Kong,
Sweeping you off your feet
And breaking the jaws of rival T-Rexes buying for your affecti-ong.

My love for you is like King Kong,
Chained, broken, captured by your beauty,
Shown off in a New York City theatre where it breaks loose,
Plows through the wall and terrorizes the city,
Grabbing you and climbing the Empire State Building
And swatting at the planes that try to keep us apart
Until I fall to the cold hard street
And die with you in my arms, in my heart.

My love for you is like King Kong.
]]> Tue, 27 Apr 2010 06:16:35 -0700 Skyler Latshaw http://www.verybadpoetry.com/poems/show/Twas_Beauty_that_Killed_the_Beast/ http://www.verybadpoetry.com/poems/show/Twas_Beauty_that_Killed_the_Beast/ Is a storm.

It blows in from the West,
Forecasted on the evening news.
Cold fronts sweeping, sweeping,
Sweeping.

The storm is cold and wet,
With gusts up to 60 mph
And hail the size of my sorrow.

Sometimes the storm is a tornado
Twisting like a cyclone,
And when we get caught up in it
We are not in Kansas
Anymore.
Wherefore art thou, O Shelter?

Hark! I hear it!
It is the basement door creaking open,
Opening for you and me, to climb inside
Safe within its damp, moist, concrete womb.
]]> Tue, 27 Apr 2010 06:15:17 -0700 Skyler Latshaw http://www.verybadpoetry.com/poems/show/The_Storm/ http://www.verybadpoetry.com/poems/show/The_Storm/ hornets capture bugs with nets
they sometimes get mad]]> Mon, 26 Apr 2010 17:11:13 -0700 bilt hort http://www.verybadpoetry.com/poems/show/hornet/ http://www.verybadpoetry.com/poems/show/hornet/