Here's something i wrote when i was partly incoherent with the influence of alcohol.

Leafy Ladies

Assume nothing
Y'all be shamed
Avert your eyes
They'll be tamed

Bark for a dollar
Anoniminity be my name
Autumn leaves
Rake up the shame

*
* The rumpled duffel
*
Grow old the rumpled duffel did
worn worries mar its side
and nevermore the contents hid
but spilled without its hide
*
A pair of darkened rugged pants
a sock twice holed from thrust
within their crumpled torpor dance
around the virgin dust
*
A cartoon drawn upon itself
to make a mock and more
to mark the spot upon the shelf
which once the duffel bore
*
When young the duffel's belly groaned
against its wearers back
with everything the wearer owned
tucked safely in the sack
*
Forgotten now as I remember
one duffel down when found
grown old the rumpled duffel wearer
lay sprawled upon the ground.
*
*
*
© 1999 Mach B  

*
*  MOO
*
Escorted by albino princesses I am led to the Great Hall,
shaky ankles, I am awed by the enormity of it all.
"But all I have is one small gift", my quiver-voice did chant.
"Worry not, oh little one, have some of our decant."
*
'Tis precious was the liquor poured into the goblet thus;
the liquid had such majesty, red flecked with silver dust.
I put the globe up to my lips and sipped exotic brew.
This mind of mine did wander and my mouth began to 'Moo'.
*
"Oh no", I thought, "What have they done, have I missplaced my trust".
"You have not, oh silly one, you merely need adjust
to a fine, etherally brewed, albino bathtub liquor."
"Moo!", I said and then I thought, "a pity I'm not quicker."
*
"We can hear, oh thoughtful one, you needn't use your voice."
"I see that now, my princesses, I haven't any choice".
"But yes you do, oh human one, we understand your Moos."
"Moo Moo Moo Moo Moo Moo Moo Moo", "It's thought then I do choose".
*
And then a wondrous thing occured, a rare fufilling site.
A ray of gold did split the sky from left and then to right.
And from this gold, a bud appeared from where there once was none.
Six purple petals peeled themselves and when their work was done.
*
A lovely greenish woman stood inside their radial spokes.
"My princesses, my princesses, is this one of your jokes?"
But instead of princess voices, 'twas the greenish one who thought
"Relax my man, they work for me, I am the one you sought"
*
"Moo!", "I mean, uh, I did not expect for you to actually show,
uh, please may I have back my voice. I, uh, really have to go."
"Ah, That is but a small request, I thought you would have more,
but if it is all the gift you want then kneel upon the floor."
*
And so I did, I put my knees down on the polished marble,
then with suprise the greenish gal began a swallow's warble.
She danced around her flower like a dervish with a whirl
and then her foot was in my face, "Oh heavens! Greenish girl"
*
I looked at it and thought aloud "What crazy plan is this"
"In order to retrieve your voice you must give it a kiss."
Then pondering a life of moos, I tightly pursed my lips.
And closed my eyes to wiggling toes I kissed upon the tips.
*
When my eyes did finally open, the three ladies smiled at me.
"What's so funny, Is my voice back?" I said with nervous glee.
Now back upon her flower, the greenish one said "Yes...
but foolish man, the Moo effect would quickly effervesce.
*
You needn't ever kiss my foot to get your sick voice back,
but since you did I'll throw some inspiration in the pack."
"Oh godess of the poets you are truly wise and kind,
for your gift I thank you, and I think if you don't mind,
*
I must be going now. It has been such a wondrous day."
And so I turn to leave and the greenish one says "Hey!...
the princesses said something about a gift exchanged per wish?"
"Oh foolish man I am. I am! I forgot to give you this."
*
© 1998 Mach B

Holy crap.

Been reading through this............ how many has Andy Petrou done? First off, there's like 1000 of them. Second, they're all amazing!

Good job, Andy. You should make a career out of this.

This one is really old - probably close to the first poem I ever wrote.  I wrote this in something like my second year of highschool, it was an assignment.  The teacher had specifically told us to avoid cliches - she would be marking our grade down if she found them in our poems.


Life is not a bowl of cherries,
care not what the people say,
love is not a vase of roses,
and there is no perfect day.
*
Dogs are not a mans best friend,
a fox is not a sly one,
elephants have no fear of mice,
and a cougar cannot run.
*
Patience is not a virtue, clear.
This is said untried and untrue.
I found a cloud with out it's lining,
and the sky is black not blue.
*
© 1996 Mach B

I remember when I used to be a poem writing machine
Who would pump out poetic words like
McDonalds makes hamburgers.

I feel so rusty now since I
Haven't exercised my poetic
Muscles in a very long time.

Yes, I know this is a pathetic return
To the world of poetry, but
A comeback is still a comeback.

Quoted from DOM Holy crap. Been reading through this............ how many has Andy Petrou done? First off, there's like 1000 of them. Second, they're all amazing! Good job, Andy. You should make a career out of this.

Sorry, I only just saw this. Thanks so much, what a compliment!!  

Rob, great comeback!  

*
* Rust
*
Beyond megalomania
over bodily functions
idiosyncratic explanations
of electronics impulses
from canal
to channel
*
Man,
scuffed boots,
scuffing floor,
sound to ears,
(I am ignored),
afraid to look,
search to sit,
red mushroom,
Formica counter,
booths to back,
(a serving girl?),
a head turns,
optical connection,
order requested,
request ordered,
call to action
*
Busy with quiet speeches
to waxy insides of an ear
thermodynamic release
of fractal emotions
from eddy
to estuary
*
Woman,
ears sounding,
looking without,
looking within,
(recognition?),
fear of watching,
man searching,
(not for me),
sudden relief,
back to booths,
a head turns,
recognition,
(don't look),
a head turns,
a man orders
*
Connected by antique ether
far beyond the atmosphere
super-light speed
of proto-photons
from circuit
to circus
*
Man,
without looking,
sees woman,
not watching,
(recognition),
request ordered,
call to action,
scuff sounds,
a head turns,
optical connection,
fear visible,
(I see you),
woman runs,
man follows,
a head turns,
door closes.
*
Conducted to the very beginning
by untrained engineers
of human psyches
being oxidized
from neglect
to ignorance.
*
*
*
© 1998 Mach B

Everyone laughs at my jokes,
But you ridicule my immaturity.
I buy Wrangler jeans and plain shirts,
But you call me cheap and demand I buy you
Diamond rings and expensive dresses.

I drive a 1996 Toyota Camry.
You demand I invest in a Mercedes.
I enjoy a simple life,
While you long for the
Glitz and glamour of Hollywood.

I believe joy doesn't come with a
Million dollar price tag, like you do.
I'm perfectly happy being me,
But you're not happy being you.

You yell at me.  You mock me.
You've made my life a living hell.
I bet you slept with
The next door neighbor dozens of time,
And that doesn't bother me.

Everything you have done and said
Mean nothing to me now
Because deep down inside,
You are miserable, sad, and angry
While I am happy and full of joy.

Money comes and money goes.
Possessions are bought and
Possessions are thrown away.
Your heart, mind and soul are endless
And my heart, mind and soul is happy.

The previous poem is not based on real life.
It is a work of fiction meant for entertainment.
Not all you read is real, not all you see is real.

This is the truth.
My wife is a great girl.
She's not like the girl
I described above.

And yes, I'm just saying this so
I don't get into trouble.
I dont want anyone to
Get the wrong impression.

Four letter words and fabulous parties,
A Mustang and dozens of jerseys
Means nothing in the scheme of things.

Possessions are temporary.
They won't last forever and
They won't make you truly happy.
Joy cannot be bought
Like respect cannot be bought.

You don't have my respect
And I doubt you are truly happy.
The smile on your face
Look so fake when compared
To the smile on mine.

If heaven is a state of mind,
You are far from paradise.
I am already there.
You are welcomed to join me.

Ok here's a little poem of mine that goes by the name of Hostel. I submitted this a while back bt it was slated by 1 member as he sed sumfing along the lines of poetry comes from the heart and so on. Well here's one of mines.

                      Hostel

Shackles, a blind rage, a sharp fury, a dark cage,
A swarm of evil, a sense of damnation,
A damp and dreary hostel, wallpaper peeling..

Torment on a sickening scale, physical hell,
And a hand full of nails,
A repulsive stream of dripping blood,
The shadow of a man sits back and looks on.

Another round in a masochists circle,
A diminished face thats bruised stained with purple,
Pinned to a cross, a childs fixation,
A terrorist shadow, a live crucifixion.

*
*  BINGO
*
I sit waiting for my numbers
watching your expressions,
whistling tunes of factory girls,
hoping to catch your attention.
*
I notice the symbols on your arm,
while watching your natural grace.
I sip firmly on my soda straw,
hoping we'll meet face to face.
*
But the game is almost over
and my matches gone, what luck!
I ask you for your lighter,
when I really want to fuck.
*
So, I throw it back and thank you,
you welcome me and turn.
and I think that I'm just horny
and that I'll never learn...
*
But I sit across and watch you move
till I think that I may peak.
See, I feel that I could love you,
so I turn and start to speak.
*
There's no time for conversation,
the last number's being called.
I'll have to meet you after,
if we are to meet at all.
*
The number's out, so ends the game.
You rise to leave and then,
I feel so doomed for knowing
that we'll never meet again.
*
Well we have exchanged our glances
but I feel it such a shame,
to have to always love you
and never know your name.
*
© 1996 Mach B

Didn't realize 'til this morning that there was poetry on here.

***

home is away


i can see the blade falling
i feel its bleak, wide grin
whether it be fatigue or sorrow
i see the blade different now

the shine brightens the night
heaviness... tells me it has purpose
so exact, nothing left to question
beauty has its ways

i leave you with a kiss
neither of hope nor of regret
but merely to tell you, i was

Seems most poems are serious, here's one that is not.

When it's all hot and sticky,
That's no time for dunkin' dickey.
But when the dew is on the pumkin'
Then it's time for dinky dunkin'