Goons poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of goons poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on goons are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Tux, ties, tuxedo Gun fires, they echo Drug, bribe, tobacco Yacht, boats, torpedo All trolls, the mohawks Haircuts, them dreadlocks Never legit, neither original New fashioned, invisi-balls Classic hats No baseball cap Black neat coat No hoodies, cloak The fags
No more bad thoughts its gota stop Be positive and grateful for all I’ve got No more mental breakdowns keep it together I cant be mentally unstable for ever Its the start of a new beginning today I must block
Fearing the haze of ending this body does not behave now. Puppet show was over. Punch – drunk we move amidst the psychopaths, who were foraging the aroma from armpits. Loincloths hanging on the strings to strangle the pigeons. Everything
You don’t have to love me, Just let me love you…..as Everything you are….and not….. I walked your path knowing that you walk another,yet it couldn’t stop me from loving you… As I slayed yet another demon,I came to realize
finding ways of running from the one force was getting harder everyday, with no night coming up the hill like it used to. rain still came only enough for plants to make out a week’s menu for those who had
Tangled clues with sensuous sparring; the incense was rising from the blue moon. It was body’s integrity, a lender was demanding when lust had become prodigal. Behind the thin veil, red eyes stared unblinkingly at the portrait of a nude
In this life, sometimes we face, Steps we have to take, that brings disgrace. Those around you, will point and judge, But if those steps for you, are good, I say, do not budge. For what steps we take, that
The air whirled around in circles. Dried leaves whistled beneath my feet. Something was trying to delay me. Something strange was afoot. Rain started to drip, drip, drip. Then torrents down on my face. I was surely getting the message.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall who is the fairest of them all?” Everybody ask me the same and expect me to answer your name. But I’m truthful sorry I ain’t helpful. I show what I see please don’t buzz me.
Thoughts before I sleep: Never again will those eyes bore into my soul, Never again will I let those sweet words make me feel whole. Never again will I lose myself in the warmth of that embrace, Never again will
We live amongst a sea of façades, Of faces gone faceless and drowning In beliefs that we, the fallen angels Have somehow, some way become Gods. We live in a world where on city streets Litter becomes its own kind
The winds of time blow memories of you through my mind A sweeter love,i shall never know as the winds of time gently blow the smell of honeysuckle in the air two young people in love without a care Forever
I ain’t a poet, I ain’t a writer, I am just someone who’s gonna lose something soon. Who knew, eventually, colors would change over years, who knew, bidding bye would bring tears. Who knew, a thousand days, a million smiles,
Might the legends be true? Or merely an imagined ado? Could it be more than a myth? Might it actually exist? Encased in glass, Perfectly preserved From decades past, Rarely observed. Black as the night, Lined with gray, Quantum technology
There was a matter to write about, A minute ago, mass of words were Filling up my mind I should pen this, that and other My head was overflowing with Powerful words and emotions To an extent, that I lost
Autumn is our conscience. Vast expanse of blue sky nurses it, white clouds occasionally cover it up, cool air quickly cleans the blockade. Autumn is short lived. It wears peaceful colors. Monk like contemplation wraps it up by logic and
There’s no one to talk to, Nobody understands, Nobody feels like you do, You need a helping hand. No matter how you feel, There’s always someone there, Someone to help you heal, Someone who really cares. You feel the world’s
I have something say, but fear, not dare, blood runs cold and I feel a Chill. If only some could understand how we feel, For the consequences of a confession we had to reveal, And the situations that we have
“Today at work”, she says, “My boss went berserk” Has all the luxuries of the world, Except if you see closely, she has no one. Beautiful and intelligent she is for sure, but Rumours tell me she was never chosen
I will encounter all barriers I will cross all the horizons I don’t require any carriers For taking fire from the sun Love is that force which enforces All the time it reinforces When your lips just endorse Then opens
An indecipherable cause brought us here may as well blame the overwhelming stink of bacon in the building lobby, that day I decided, my future didn’t contain forty years of accountancy unquiet stomach, unquiet mind Thus all ships sail, even
In a silent valley of feelings, Under the shadow of deep emotions, A person with a bag of old memories, With a bundle of unsolved queries, Waiting for his next journey, Beyond this inner world, He is a passenger of
Casting aspirations on caste is like digging one’s own grave For we know not why we have come but we know for sure where we are destined to Go When the coffin doesn’t differentiate who you are Why do you
The hopeless eyes and tear stained horror of a far-away, fragile gaze, where once a sweet and happy child dwelt, till the innocence of life was erased. The tears have dried up, cried out with the pain of battered beseeching
Why would I not sing to you in tears of vermillion fire? Sing the fires of blue flame, sing the rage of form. For these words no location in the blood-red depths of an apple-green paradise. Yes, yes your azure
When joy has fled the confines of your heart, And to sadness is where you sally forth, Had you been queen, still nary could you thwart, The glum where even clowns can’t be of worth; Some solace you might find
It is night again, And the darkness wakes it all up. Rooms left to collect, the dust of Fault and dissent, and the Forgotten madness of bygone days. We have created so much with nothing, And done nothing with so
Every day in his life was hell, Repercussions he could hardly spell. He endured drudgery to pay his bills, No time for Netflix and chills. Man, he never had the privilege of peers, His world was always shrouded by petulant
A bucketful of moon falls on my door with the smell of a salted night on frozen shoulders of a punctured landscape. I start expanding unseeing a sentimental lake. Life was asking a very high price for the purple bruises.