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- Thread starter hydroazuanacaine
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Spoke Word Wedding Speech
take me disappearing thru the smoke rings of my mind
or put myself in someone else's shoes, and see what I will find
I'd like to walk a million miles and never slip or stumble
but that's not the way it works, so I try to keep it humble
like baby, I just want you...to be alright
thru the cities and towns, thru the days and nights
I've seen quite a lot in just a quarter of a century
and sometimes, some things, are sorta like they're meant to be
so god bless the kids who walk their own pathway
who know what it means to say there's no halfway
I would imagine what dawns on us in our last days,
is how life never fit inside of a catch phrase
too big to define...so I just ramble from the start
but I'll dedicate the best part to the one that holds my heart
and I will always represent you, everything we went thru
you prop yourself like I prop myself against you
we flock together like birds with similar feathers
hold each other down, or take flight in any weather
break bread with friends and family, and it will last
so all in together, everybody raise your glass
cheers.
take me disappearing thru the smoke rings of my mind
or put myself in someone else's shoes, and see what I will find
I'd like to walk a million miles and never slip or stumble
but that's not the way it works, so I try to keep it humble
like baby, I just want you...to be alright
thru the cities and towns, thru the days and nights
I've seen quite a lot in just a quarter of a century
and sometimes, some things, are sorta like they're meant to be
so god bless the kids who walk their own pathway
who know what it means to say there's no halfway
I would imagine what dawns on us in our last days,
is how life never fit inside of a catch phrase
too big to define...so I just ramble from the start
but I'll dedicate the best part to the one that holds my heart
and I will always represent you, everything we went thru
you prop yourself like I prop myself against you
we flock together like birds with similar feathers
hold each other down, or take flight in any weather
break bread with friends and family, and it will last
so all in together, everybody raise your glass
cheers.
ForEverAfter
Ex-Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jan 16, 2012
- Messages
- 2,836
Your floral mattress. It smells of perfume.
The springs are even. They don’t pinch.
Repositioning myself is unnecessary.
I lie down, melting into your image.
Inhaling scent like a fox hound.
Your bedroom is a shrine.
Childhood artifacts, surrounding me.
Innocence, waiting to be destroyed.
The musty carpet. Littered with clothes.
Your panties. They’re still wet at the crotch.
I wear them like gas masks, taking deep breaths.
My cock is rock hard: “Go get her,” it says.
But, I disagree. There’s no hope for me.
I don’t deserve your sweet world:
might as well curl up and die.
I wake up, disoriented.
Your floral mattress. It still smells of perfume.
You’re lying beside me. Unconscious. Naked.
Your elastic skin, a trampoline for my fingers.
Intoxicating smells rising from your thighs.
My hands dancing across your body,
As you tickle and carress me.
I don’t deserve this:
Your sweet world.
Still, we fuck.
Our genitals locked together
Green eyes gazing into blue
Eager hands grabbing skin
Your pale white tits
Brushing against me
As you grind
Flesh against flesh
I fuck you so hard you bleed
Fuck you for eighty minutes, non-stop
Cum inside you
My neighbors, listening to us
Peering through the open blinds
Masturbating in the shadows...
I don’t care
if they can hear us.
Your pussy is perfect,
and I want the world to know.
The springs are even. They don’t pinch.
Repositioning myself is unnecessary.
I lie down, melting into your image.
Inhaling scent like a fox hound.
Your bedroom is a shrine.
Childhood artifacts, surrounding me.
Innocence, waiting to be destroyed.
The musty carpet. Littered with clothes.
Your panties. They’re still wet at the crotch.
I wear them like gas masks, taking deep breaths.
My cock is rock hard: “Go get her,” it says.
But, I disagree. There’s no hope for me.
I don’t deserve your sweet world:
might as well curl up and die.
I wake up, disoriented.
Your floral mattress. It still smells of perfume.
You’re lying beside me. Unconscious. Naked.
Your elastic skin, a trampoline for my fingers.
Intoxicating smells rising from your thighs.
My hands dancing across your body,
As you tickle and carress me.
I don’t deserve this:
Your sweet world.
Still, we fuck.
Our genitals locked together
Green eyes gazing into blue
Eager hands grabbing skin
Your pale white tits
Brushing against me
As you grind
Flesh against flesh
I fuck you so hard you bleed
Fuck you for eighty minutes, non-stop
Cum inside you
My neighbors, listening to us
Peering through the open blinds
Masturbating in the shadows...
I don’t care
if they can hear us.
Your pussy is perfect,
and I want the world to know.
Horton-Scorton
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Apr 29, 2008
- Messages
- 110
Make up, fuck, name's sunken, shushed
Well that's a strange thing, been pushed
now girl, forget
Meaning is fine with you unaware
How then, bout the scrawny kid
Ginger math and sci fi klutz, Trace
Ha a bond,
but remember the wisdom
I do
Product, powder, colors, all these, though big
Big though these shots of Vegas and Paris and all...
Are...uh
Sign off quick, playing no liar's gamble
Is the lack the fill in, together, they
Shake up rows of suburb facial treat with care
Mix stir then they say they show ya face it'll work
She now, trace the daughter dear and queer red and freckle faced
dressing, making right makes...right , right
her flash her swoop...up. Up, right. And a face
She put on but the husband she finds
In the magazine wild flower
Popped in and carriage bound loved her
Make up, he said
Telephone office bread and coffee stern faced
Not that
Make up could show the Russians
Who's boss
She wink
Self
I
.
/
-
Xxxxxx000
Uhhhhh go like ehhh fuc uhhh
Mom
Fine finge then uhhh
Like and u ahh g gone
Done.done.done.done.
Well that's a strange thing, been pushed
now girl, forget
Meaning is fine with you unaware
How then, bout the scrawny kid
Ginger math and sci fi klutz, Trace
Ha a bond,
but remember the wisdom
I do
Product, powder, colors, all these, though big
Big though these shots of Vegas and Paris and all...
Are...uh
Sign off quick, playing no liar's gamble
Is the lack the fill in, together, they
Shake up rows of suburb facial treat with care
Mix stir then they say they show ya face it'll work
She now, trace the daughter dear and queer red and freckle faced
dressing, making right makes...right , right
her flash her swoop...up. Up, right. And a face
She put on but the husband she finds
In the magazine wild flower
Popped in and carriage bound loved her
Make up, he said
Telephone office bread and coffee stern faced
Not that
Make up could show the Russians
Who's boss
She wink
Self
I
.
/
-
Xxxxxx000
Uhhhhh go like ehhh fuc uhhh
Mom
Fine finge then uhhh
Like and u ahh g gone
Done.done.done.done.
STRICTLY AIM
too many games
played by too many lames
use eleven percent of my brain,
blur my enemy’s aim
but it be what it be
ain’t nobody the same
I don’t need to smear your name
or bloody your game
how big is your world?
can you see it?
do you stroll around in freedom
or flee when defeated?
a little bit of both bro, but yo
that’s life
we throw those dice
and hope it flows so nice
upper echelon blueprints
a pattern, if you will
take notes on new hints
more a habit than a drill
only get one ride
before the sun runs dry
my sniper scope aim
only need one eye
flashy.. but not fictitious
flow ridiculous
number 1 with a bullet
trigger finger tickelish
history repeating
time and time again
we’re never gonna notice
how it’s never gonna end
so fuck how I’m spellin’ it
find patterns in the elements
rage against machine
shoot holes in their intelligence
license to kill...
one rhyme at a time
gun down that soft shit
that resides in your mind
I like my fish raw
my cash in dollar sacks
speak that abstract
but stand on solid facts
little black bombs
with the old fashioned fuse lit
flying thru your windows
and you know you can’t defuse shit!
lose quick,
when you’re battlin’ a champion
I’m dwellin’ in the realms
most fellaz know they can’t be in
point a cannon at the devil
make the mess that he be standin’ in
so be polite and wipe your feet
when steppin’ in my man-sion
a feeble life is transient....
too many games
played by too many lames
use eleven percent of my brain,
blur my enemy’s aim
but it be what it be
ain’t nobody the same
I don’t need to smear your name
or bloody your game
how big is your world?
can you see it?
do you stroll around in freedom
or flee when defeated?
a little bit of both bro, but yo
that’s life
we throw those dice
and hope it flows so nice
upper echelon blueprints
a pattern, if you will
take notes on new hints
more a habit than a drill
only get one ride
before the sun runs dry
my sniper scope aim
only need one eye
flashy.. but not fictitious
flow ridiculous
number 1 with a bullet
trigger finger tickelish
history repeating
time and time again
we’re never gonna notice
how it’s never gonna end
so fuck how I’m spellin’ it
find patterns in the elements
rage against machine
shoot holes in their intelligence
license to kill...
one rhyme at a time
gun down that soft shit
that resides in your mind
I like my fish raw
my cash in dollar sacks
speak that abstract
but stand on solid facts
little black bombs
with the old fashioned fuse lit
flying thru your windows
and you know you can’t defuse shit!
lose quick,
when you’re battlin’ a champion
I’m dwellin’ in the realms
most fellaz know they can’t be in
point a cannon at the devil
make the mess that he be standin’ in
so be polite and wipe your feet
when steppin’ in my man-sion
a feeble life is transient....
ForEverAfter
Ex-Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jan 16, 2012
- Messages
- 2,836
Yellow-Brick Road Kill
My childhood clouds could fill every empty easel, once upon a time
Yet, this carnivorous convoy of canvases is intent on eating everything I own
Dead dreams devoured by memory’s pale blue sky
Your siren soul shivering against mine for seven sleepless nights and seven sleepless days
My evenings erupting with passionless parables and stagnant soliloquies
Imagination stretching thin across the night sky
Approaching infinity as we approach zero, and vice-versa
Until, inevitably - paradoxically - the infant and the elder intersect
Aspirations undone by the tock-tick-tock of upside-down clocks
The powers-to-be predicted it precisely
"Yesterday’s popular prophecies will become tomorrow’s toilet paper!"
But we refused to react, like cowardly lions lingering in coffee shops
Us – the emotionally enslaved – embracing invisible freedoms
Comparing past-lives with contemporary prison, to justify limitations
Wondering, all the while, why we lock ourselves in and lock the world out
Those satisfied-few, sweating Stockholm syndrome into their socks
God doesn’t care for cages or crime, as long as you concede that God is divine
The sign says, “substitute superstition for serious consideration”
Concrete might prove to be malleable, after all
Consider the manatee and what it sees against the pale blue sky
Now, spot something familiar that you failed to recognise before
Hollow and heartless, like the tin man
My skin, barely containing the vacuum inside
I wash my white apartment walls until the paint peels
Murdered a million times by this monotonous milieu
I seek inspiration where I buried my creative bones
The epitaph reads, “Here Lies a Childhood Cloud.”
My childhood clouds could fill every empty easel, once upon a time
Yet, this carnivorous convoy of canvases is intent on eating everything I own
Dead dreams devoured by memory’s pale blue sky
Your siren soul shivering against mine for seven sleepless nights and seven sleepless days
My evenings erupting with passionless parables and stagnant soliloquies
Imagination stretching thin across the night sky
Approaching infinity as we approach zero, and vice-versa
Until, inevitably - paradoxically - the infant and the elder intersect
Aspirations undone by the tock-tick-tock of upside-down clocks
The powers-to-be predicted it precisely
"Yesterday’s popular prophecies will become tomorrow’s toilet paper!"
But we refused to react, like cowardly lions lingering in coffee shops
Us – the emotionally enslaved – embracing invisible freedoms
Comparing past-lives with contemporary prison, to justify limitations
Wondering, all the while, why we lock ourselves in and lock the world out
Those satisfied-few, sweating Stockholm syndrome into their socks
God doesn’t care for cages or crime, as long as you concede that God is divine
The sign says, “substitute superstition for serious consideration”
Concrete might prove to be malleable, after all
Consider the manatee and what it sees against the pale blue sky
Now, spot something familiar that you failed to recognise before
Hollow and heartless, like the tin man
My skin, barely containing the vacuum inside
I wash my white apartment walls until the paint peels
Murdered a million times by this monotonous milieu
I seek inspiration where I buried my creative bones
The epitaph reads, “Here Lies a Childhood Cloud.”
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APOCALYPSE ALWAYS
suffocating through a woolen mask
Sleep until it melts away
Wake up with a Newport Smile
in a land of Intoxicated Camels and Tired Cowboys
standard issue residents render you harmless
stuff Powder into your Thought Machine
and step off the cliffs of Pottery Fame
stumble blindly through an Old English Tornado
while playing chess with the American Dream,
that glass oven....a spoiled vacuum
relieve it monthly
with Psychedelic Medicine
medicating the hesitating victim
of self deprecation and
feedback addiction
it is not over
it is only the beginning
Catatonic Animation
and Cerebral Evacuation
surely the time will come
when Broken Pills and heavy chests
are not essential vitamins
to the daily routine
the sanity is enough to drive you crazy
guided by the light of Lunar Attractions
fractions of that Imaginary Place
that never let you go
going back there is a cardinal sin,
first rule of the book
yet, it can't be stopped
and the Silent Vultures
still penetrate your defenses
for the smallest infractions
of the hometown code
it never stops because it can't stop
yes
digital must replace analog
Rookie must retire Veteran
Apocalypse Always.
suffocating through a woolen mask
Sleep until it melts away
Wake up with a Newport Smile
in a land of Intoxicated Camels and Tired Cowboys
standard issue residents render you harmless
stuff Powder into your Thought Machine
and step off the cliffs of Pottery Fame
stumble blindly through an Old English Tornado
while playing chess with the American Dream,
that glass oven....a spoiled vacuum
relieve it monthly
with Psychedelic Medicine
medicating the hesitating victim
of self deprecation and
feedback addiction
it is not over
it is only the beginning
Catatonic Animation
and Cerebral Evacuation
surely the time will come
when Broken Pills and heavy chests
are not essential vitamins
to the daily routine
the sanity is enough to drive you crazy
guided by the light of Lunar Attractions
fractions of that Imaginary Place
that never let you go
going back there is a cardinal sin,
first rule of the book
yet, it can't be stopped
and the Silent Vultures
still penetrate your defenses
for the smallest infractions
of the hometown code
it never stops because it can't stop
yes
digital must replace analog
Rookie must retire Veteran
Apocalypse Always.
infectedmushroom
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Mar 14, 2007
- Messages
- 1,371
I almost feel tired
Just writing your name
So I won't
I almost feel sick
Just describing your face
So I won't
I won’t soon forget
The bitter regret
Of months wasted trying to
Make you repent
You said that you’d change but
You didn’t.
You won’t.
Just writing your name
So I won't
I almost feel sick
Just describing your face
So I won't
I won’t soon forget
The bitter regret
Of months wasted trying to
Make you repent
You said that you’d change but
You didn’t.
You won’t.
Last edited:
infectedmushroom
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Mar 14, 2007
- Messages
- 1,371
^ very nice.
Ode to the Jazzman
With all of the rich flavours
Of a sweet jazz cacophony
Swing your sour melodies
Through sultry flows of blue.
Aromas rich in scotch
Soak into softened nostrils
Let wild
Crazy jazzman
With songs of torment
Weaved through blue.
Ode to the Jazzman
With all of the rich flavours
Of a sweet jazz cacophony
Swing your sour melodies
Through sultry flows of blue.
Aromas rich in scotch
Soak into softened nostrils
Let wild
Crazy jazzman
With songs of torment
Weaved through blue.
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^^both very nice!
strike the band in Wonderland with Alice on the keys
and the Cheshire Cat somewhere in the grand viscinity
of a golden microphone where smiling is enough
and hints of light refract off the diamonds in the rough.
Enhanced the focus on short notice and wrote this
for the game of life players fans managers and coaches
where basically you're small, then basically you're tall
a hundred billion fragments turbo racing thru the skull
but back to the band and the matters at hand
the hatter spinnin' vinyl to the rabbit hat jam
tweedledee and tweedledum, the congo drum bums
hail the newborn king with the rump a pum pum
strike the band in Wonderland with Alice on the keys
and the Cheshire Cat somewhere in the grand viscinity
of a golden microphone where smiling is enough
and hints of light refract off the diamonds in the rough.
Enhanced the focus on short notice and wrote this
for the game of life players fans managers and coaches
where basically you're small, then basically you're tall
a hundred billion fragments turbo racing thru the skull
but back to the band and the matters at hand
the hatter spinnin' vinyl to the rabbit hat jam
tweedledee and tweedledum, the congo drum bums
hail the newborn king with the rump a pum pum
When the 50’s Still Held Promise
At the back of speech I'm cutting deals with screams.
Our junk's fifteen percent pure, three percent higher
than street average. I hire ahems to strongarm whispers
and from the hush money there collected fund 1/16th notes
of my salary. Six figures and a dame who knows the ropes.
A steady turnstyle of Johns and overdosed Janes, stripped
of valuables, they won’t need it where they’re going.
After the show, straight to poppa baby, you know
who's holding candy. Square-jaws get tossed at the door.
No time for games, strictly aces at the poker table
and sharks in the pool hall. All's a planetary gravity about
to come unhinged. A speedbump keeps the fire burning.
Laissez-faire maidens lodge with dicks, short leashes
for the both of them. Essence of rose in the water if they've
kept their part of the bargain and stocked the till. A bowler
and a new summer dress for record breaking heat. Fireworks
to light the dismal colon, dynamite to cleanse the eerily
hanging night. Jackhammers in the morning, the other side
of town if you've managed not to piss off the wrong person.
Drifters in and out, a minor chord of slamming doors. Static
on the radio. Winter on the way. Another stiff for the fishes,
cutting back, business slimming its waist as usual. Jazz
in the air, a request fulfilled, no mistake who's footing the bill.
Profits on the rise, the turncoats catch wind, it won't last long
they tell me, rack up, close shop, get out while I still can.
At the back of speech I'm cutting deals with screams.
Our junk's fifteen percent pure, three percent higher
than street average. I hire ahems to strongarm whispers
and from the hush money there collected fund 1/16th notes
of my salary. Six figures and a dame who knows the ropes.
A steady turnstyle of Johns and overdosed Janes, stripped
of valuables, they won’t need it where they’re going.
After the show, straight to poppa baby, you know
who's holding candy. Square-jaws get tossed at the door.
No time for games, strictly aces at the poker table
and sharks in the pool hall. All's a planetary gravity about
to come unhinged. A speedbump keeps the fire burning.
Laissez-faire maidens lodge with dicks, short leashes
for the both of them. Essence of rose in the water if they've
kept their part of the bargain and stocked the till. A bowler
and a new summer dress for record breaking heat. Fireworks
to light the dismal colon, dynamite to cleanse the eerily
hanging night. Jackhammers in the morning, the other side
of town if you've managed not to piss off the wrong person.
Drifters in and out, a minor chord of slamming doors. Static
on the radio. Winter on the way. Another stiff for the fishes,
cutting back, business slimming its waist as usual. Jazz
in the air, a request fulfilled, no mistake who's footing the bill.
Profits on the rise, the turncoats catch wind, it won't last long
they tell me, rack up, close shop, get out while I still can.
panic in paradise
Bluelighter
- Joined
- May 3, 2000
- Messages
- 18,867
Night Sky Lullaby
Crescent Moon arching;
Pacing a summers night sky lullaby,
Gathering distant sunbeams.
All time is second guessed,
Here within your luminous tawny lace.
Caught like a web: you amongst I?
Waiting to shimmer amongst your presence.
My faith as your vessel; for myself no release.
Only imagining of whats more,
Chasing your cascading ever-essence.
And for that
I wait to dream.
Crescent Moon arching;
Pacing a summers night sky lullaby,
Gathering distant sunbeams.
All time is second guessed,
Here within your luminous tawny lace.
Caught like a web: you amongst I?
Waiting to shimmer amongst your presence.
My faith as your vessel; for myself no release.
Only imagining of whats more,
Chasing your cascading ever-essence.
And for that
I wait to dream.
Last edited:
Ashley
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Jun 17, 2005
- Messages
- 1,000
The putrid smell of moving on,
the after taste of hope gong wrong,
with the missing pages and empty
spaces, the pain of yesterday fades
into anger. Missing you like missing
teeth, unforgiving platforms that
fall beneath my feet, and still the
memory seems so fresh as I try and
struggle and twist and turn with
bitter hope that I will forget.
--
Forbidden resolution encased in twisted
logic, kindness mistaken for weakness as
too often, it happens. The blessed and
the damned, climbing atop each other and
clawing for the top. The poor souls far
beneath, being trampled and receiving
bone fractures from the pressure. It
has all been murdered, assassinated, and
calculated. A flawless execution, a
straight flying bullet.
A.
the after taste of hope gong wrong,
with the missing pages and empty
spaces, the pain of yesterday fades
into anger. Missing you like missing
teeth, unforgiving platforms that
fall beneath my feet, and still the
memory seems so fresh as I try and
struggle and twist and turn with
bitter hope that I will forget.
--
Forbidden resolution encased in twisted
logic, kindness mistaken for weakness as
too often, it happens. The blessed and
the damned, climbing atop each other and
clawing for the top. The poor souls far
beneath, being trampled and receiving
bone fractures from the pressure. It
has all been murdered, assassinated, and
calculated. A flawless execution, a
straight flying bullet.
A.
panic in paradise
Bluelighter
- Joined
- May 3, 2000
- Messages
- 18,867
Time: Bearing no texture or form
Of your presence I take wonder
In my presence you take shape
I as your host am only quarreling with myself
At the sense of your lacking
And so inward I look for patience
Of your presence I take wonder
In my presence you take shape
I as your host am only quarreling with myself
At the sense of your lacking
And so inward I look for patience
plmar
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Oct 24, 2012
- Messages
- 1,898
sorry if too long
There was no introduction, no “open sesame”; I just walked in on its domain, heading towards one of the toilet cubicles until I stepped on a puddle of human urine.
The spider had a tactical advantage, it was clearly aware of that. As soon as I stopped moving, it dropped down from its cobweb, and landed on the ground next to me.
I never saw the fucker, but I heard it hit the ground. I didn’t dare look down, but I was aware of the fact that when I had approached the toilets I saw the spiders clinging onto their webs up on the ceiling, and now one or two of them were missing.
The booby trap had been set by these mischievous creatures, and I triggered it. No urinating was done that night, perhaps not inside that particular restroom.
There was no introduction, no “open sesame”; I just walked in on its domain, heading towards one of the toilet cubicles until I stepped on a puddle of human urine.
The spider had a tactical advantage, it was clearly aware of that. As soon as I stopped moving, it dropped down from its cobweb, and landed on the ground next to me.
I never saw the fucker, but I heard it hit the ground. I didn’t dare look down, but I was aware of the fact that when I had approached the toilets I saw the spiders clinging onto their webs up on the ceiling, and now one or two of them were missing.
The booby trap had been set by these mischievous creatures, and I triggered it. No urinating was done that night, perhaps not inside that particular restroom.
Last edited:
casualuser
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Apr 29, 2011
- Messages
- 167
Into the mist:
The darkness is deep
my thoughts go deeper
trapped without meaning
no power to see her
Lines left uncrossed
lives still unmade
hesitation will kill me
then this feeling will fade
Questions unanswered
days filled with rain
my mind toils to know
the source of its bane
This picture is colored
just like them all
but the color depends
how will my light fall?
The darkness is deep
my thoughts go deeper
trapped without meaning
no power to see her
Lines left uncrossed
lives still unmade
hesitation will kill me
then this feeling will fade
Questions unanswered
days filled with rain
my mind toils to know
the source of its bane
This picture is colored
just like them all
but the color depends
how will my light fall?
plmar
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Oct 24, 2012
- Messages
- 1,898
Nice. I've attempted at writing some poems in the past but each has been sort of a failure.
‘R-Traxx - The Silence (Original Mix)’
Let’s get straight to it. This song is damn good, an almost avant-garde style of production with a sound unlike anything from its genre.
This is the European sound. One hundred and forty beats per minute of a forlorn synth-line & thumping kick, accompanied by long forgotten memories of silhouettes of trees in the distance, rows of Scania trucks, 24/7 restaurants, and badly lit road-side toilets out in the middle of fuck-knows-where, Germany. Scenes and experiences I long for with all my heart. I ask myself; Is there any need for human relationships and love, when I get emotionally attached to locations I had only been to once or twice in my entire life?