My poetry

Here's the some poems I wrote.

Illusion of perfection
Destruction of existence
Long path of self-deception
Is hiding on short distance

Still image of perception
Construction of the needless
Delight of misconception
Belief in world that greedless

Affairs of night denying
And breaking of inventions
Rejecting and delaying
Which rises up the tension

A falling drop of cold rain
In lonely days will mention
Of fears that will drain your veins
And make you seek for vengeance

Instructions of inclusion
The feelings in a landslide
When dreams devours conclusions
Of reason with its high tides

The moonlight of estranged
Will cover scapes of living
When nightmares of deranged
Will overshadow breathings

Then darkness that will grow on
Convenes a congregation
While fading inner glowing
Still looking for salvation

Thoughts
I

A cry of drying ocean
Inside the sound of tears
The houses of devotion
Men left to die in fears

The dreams of dark delusions
And hopes of passing through
The life of disillusions...
Some dreams are coming true

The being of unusual
Is doomed to get straight
In this world of confusion
No innocence remains

II

Long journey of the river
Finds ending in the sea
Upon the moon of silver
There's truth you cannot see

The fire of revelations
Absorb the shadows' hole
Sparks of illumination
You'll see in dreams of soul

III

Hypocrisy makes me insane
I'm sick of all these double games
But one day I had realised
That I'm all the same by sight

A stranger came into my mind
I used to try look back and find
That day when he did final strike
But now I am just a psych

IV

Every night and every day
Some are trying to find their way
Every day and every night
This way's just getting outta sight

V

In mirror there's a doppelganger
This scene is ending with cliffhanger

VI

One wave of hand
One last goodbye
The ending wouldn't be so grand
And this is just a final rhyme

Untitled (Lament)

I used to draw the inspiration
From depths of my imagination
But since I looked into myself
I put my heart onto the shelf
To live with heart there's rhyme and reason
For those who haven't lost the season

See every man who proud and brave
Is falling down into the grave
See those who happier were born
To be just the Almighty's thorn
They lived their nights and wasted their days
In wicked grace of human race

Is there any sense to live
For those who gets all for just to give?
Or is there any sense in death?
Or lying in the ground beneath?
My question's old now can thou say
But answer haven't been found today

The things I used to be possessed by
The minutiae I was impressed by
The wicked lie I had believed in
Are dead but now I'm still living
The biggest disinfatuation
Had come into my inspiration

Pretty good.  Here's mine...

Your skin glows like the pomegranate,
blossoms firm as the pansy
 in the purest hope of spring.

My heart follows your piano voice
and leaps like a Emu at the whisper of your name.
The evening floats in on a great African Swallow wing.

I am comforted by your underwear
that I carry into the twilight of Canbeams
and hold next to my Left buttock.

I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of bodily fluids.
As my Right buttock falls from my Merkin,
it reminds me of your Calculator.

In the quiet, I listen for the last low range trombone of the day.
My heated Fibula leaps to my blouse.
I wait in the moonlight for your secret iphone
so that we may grind as one, Fibula to Fibula,
in search of the magnificient red and mystical long-snapper of love.

I used Mad Libs.

Micrówave wrote: Pretty good.  Here's mine...

Your skin glows like the pomegranate,
blossoms firm as the pansy
 in the purest hope of spring.

My heart follows your piano voice
and leaps like a Emu at the whisper of your name.
The evening floats in on a great African Swallow wing.

I am comforted by your underwear
that I carry into the twilight of Canbeams
and hold next to my Left buttock.

I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of bodily fluids.
As my Right buttock falls from my Merkin,
it reminds me of your Calculator.

In the quiet, I listen for the last low range trombone of the day.
My heated Fibula leaps to my blouse.
I wait in the moonlight for your secret iphone
so that we may grind as one, Fibula to Fibula,
in search of the magnificient red and mystical long-snapper of love.

I used Mad Libs.

A facial on the embryo of our stillborn love child,
as the wretched harlot kissed the porcelain teapot
,street urchins kneeled in front of the Catholic church,
everybody came

drip
      drip
             drip
drip
      drip
            drip

I used my imagination.

while walking one day by the front
saw an hermaphrodite called Munt
was a dirty little f**ker
and a massive c*ck-sucker
cos Munt had a cock and a c*nt

In scarlet ******
The ***** will wander
Until, in **** of ***
The busy ******** speaks
Of *** and *********** again
It seems
The ***** ** **** stands
Firm in **** ******
Above the fields of France.

O pointy birds, o pointy pointy
Anoint my head, anointy-nointy.
 -- Steve Martin

If I had wheels instead of feet.
And roses 'stead of eyes.
Then I could drive to the flower show.
And maybe win a prize. 
 -- Shel Silverstein

I've got two legs from my hips to the ground
And when I move 'em they walk around
And when I lift 'em they climb the stairs
And when I shave 'em they ain't got hairs.
 -- Monty Python

Ole - I think it is very brave to write poetry in a foreign language and you really did well, I am very impressed. It is even much braver to post your poetry on Queenzone .... :-)

Sit on my face, and tell me that you love me
I'll sit on your face and tell you I love you, too
I love to hear you ORALIZE
When I'm between your thighs
You blow me away

Sit on my face and let my lips embrace you
I'll sit on your face and THEN I'LL LOVE YOU TRULY
Life can be fine if we both sixty-nine
IF WE sit on our faces in all sorts of places and play
'Till we're blown away
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Inflammation of the foreskin reminds me of your smile
I've had balanital chancroids for quite a little while
I gave my heart to NSU that lovely night in June
I ache for you my darling and I hope you get well soon

My penile warts, your herpes, my syphilitic sore,
Your monilial infection; how I miss you more and more
Your Dhobi's itch, my scrumpox; our lovely gonorrhea
At least we both were lying when we said that we were clear!

The Jag's Life:

[/QUOTE]

Sittin, greetin', feelin blue
Scottish League, Division Two
Every Saturday is the same
Cannae win a fuckin' game

Berwick, Stenny - disnae matter
Every week's the same auld patter
15 away fans in the toon
Singin' "Thistle's gawn doon"

See oor Jags are a team o' goons
who cannae kick the thing that's roon'
So three points come with each blue moon
we know a beatin's comin' soon

But every week we have the will
To trundle off to our Firhill
Always lookin' for a thrill
(Alas, its always Thistle nil)

But we still love you (Must be barmy)
Our beloved Red n Yellow army
For life without you wouldnae be
so fulfilled so naturally

We're mad about you
it's plain tae see
The mad, the mental
Partick Thistle (FC).

(C) James Gilchrist

I used life experience and a Glesga' accent :)

^ Ahh ha ha! I like it a lot! If it was about anything important I'd love it. :P

Thistleboy1980 wrote:

See oor Jags are a team o' goons
who cannae kick the thing that's roon'
So three points come with each blue moon
we know a beatin's comin' soon

========================

Just brilliant !

lol - thanks you guys :)