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Vote for the best PAIR of poems.

The Man Who Changed The World

I don’t wanna go down in history as a man who changed the world,
I don’t wanna go down in history as the saviour of the nation,
I just wanna go down that lonesome road
Of the depressed generation

I never thought I was special, I really never had a heart,
And if for a reason I had one it is now tore apart.
Cause I ignored his beat as a cry for help, but still it granted me life to survive.
Now I surrender to the webs of suicide…

Leaving a legacy to the unknown in a mist.
I raised my fist, as a soul, and climbed the stairway to heaven,
And I never bought a ride in it.
I never bought a ride in it…

I’m not a saviour, I’m not Jesus, I’m just a man abandoned in this world.
I am so common, so ordinary, why do I have to change the world?

Why do I have to be in charge of all the lies you’ve launched and sparked?
Why does it have to be me who covers up all the **** you do?
I don’t want my words to be published like I was some sort of lunatic.
I don’t want the spotlight pointed at me; I don’t wanna go down in history.

I repeat all the lyrics I fixed in numb and I still don’t know what they mean.
I climbed the stairway, step by step, knowing I lived my life in sin.
I’ve washed my hands in holy water but it burned like sulphuric acid.
Still I don’t understand the expectations that grew around me…

I never seeded, I never took care of my life and everything that surrounded.
I got a gun pointed to my head but I’m not sure I will succeed.
Oh God, help me! Bring some light! Give me some proof of the divine!
Oh Satan, help me! I have prayed for you my entire life!

Prayers in mute, prayers in thought, I never fought my fights alone.
Here’s my desire: launch me to the fire, it’s the best home I ever had…
Cover me in kisses! Judas, please! Betray me like I have betrayed!
I have to suffer some consequences, cause every price needs to be paid…

Do you still want me as your god? Do you understand who I am?
I am a man, a typical man, why do you see me as a messiah?
I’m not a religion, I’m not a soldier, I never died for anything.
You could be me, you could be me, but believe me you could have chosen better.
I don’t wanna go down in history, I don’t wanna go down in history,
I don’t wanna go down in history, cause every single man in this world could be me…


We rode bicycles over a mountainside made of cheap street crack and wine.
‘Michelangelo,’ she said. ‘these walls ain’t even half as tall as what we thought they
were. Look, you can see all of the sky tonight. Oh, you can see all of the sky!’
She asked for a statue, and I etched her out a marble portrait of the moon.
‘Baby,’ she spoke. ‘the moon?’
‘Without the sun to light it up, it’s just another rock.’
‘Let’s go.’ She sung.
We found shovels in our empty garden bed, and dug until we hit water.
‘We’re stuck,’ I cried. ‘we’re really ****ing stuck.’
‘Close your eyes, we’re in a ship. Okay? And we’re sailing through a stream of
cement and bricks, and we’re not stuck, okay? Just close your eyes and paddle, like this.’
I cupped a hand against the sunlight. Her eyes were mirrors in a morning so bright.
There were birds dancing like kites strung up for a day parade,
And there were old trees and soft hills and low rolling meadows,
And for a moment the sun swung behind a cloud.
‘The moon never looked so alight.’
As she laughed I placed a frame around her neck and made her a masterpiece.

Tears Aren’t Shed For Dry Words Such As These

Mistook a smile for acceptance
Just as my hands did too
As they scaled your landscape
Like dogsled fingers searching
Through your snow white magnificence

And I mistook a word for love
In such a foolish manner
As what washed over me then
Seems quite antonymous
To what sneaks past your cherry blossom lips
Now that we’ve gotten into this mess

A crescendo of vacant eyes
Wandering across blooming dejection
Swooning within my chest

Like flies to a lotus
Our draining hearts clog
And our once sugar-coated lust
Dissolves to skeletal beauty
Becoming food for frogs

Which seems, to me, such a suitable ending
For something as prosaic as this…
A concerto of lost promises
That were lost somewhere
Between hello and your thigh
As the subtle jettison of my words
Handed a megaphone to our actions

Now your intentions can’t hide behind blank walls
Feeding affection to your satisfaction

And the mediocrity of my disposition
Casts a fine shadow upon your lacking disguise,
My sweet succubus.
So here’s to us,
And a hollow goodbye.


Sitting in an afternoon watching seconds float by like butterflies, flapping languidly
Wings of burnished steel, swords forged from burning dirt on deaths of the delvers
Indolently floating, the people scuffle past my bench, my lair, it is my domain,
A bed upon which I dream my thoughts like the eggs of golden hearts cracking open - hairy and beautiful and revolting

They must surely die, like the butterflies soon shall pass into time itself,
A mere insect upon the surface of a calm and peaceful lake, much like my own lake of dreams,
Yet these eggs arrive and destroy the water like an earthquake, a burning hurricane, an apocalypse.
Upsetting the balance of a calm surface, tumultuous already with unrest and decaying vegetation, rotted epically to the core of the poor, innocent,
Golden heart-dream.
have to go blue. Though none of the four pieces really did anything for me at all (except for the middle of parralax, if that was turned into a more concrete experience overall, it would be spot on.)