Disco Biscuits

[Colin Combover in a ComaParticipant 5068]

I can feel the strobe probing it’s way into my lobe
A “Voodoo Ray” of light that shines and glows

She emits pleasure that transmits
From my head to my digits
Where no-one else goes

Lost in a sea of clasps
Whilst the ecstasy is passed in little wraps
And placed inside of me

The love intensifies
As the negative vibes die

Space and time holds no bounds
All I hear is the liquid sounds

I look around
And there is a telepathic connection
Where words hold no bounds
And need no correction

One big symmetry wave
At the acid rave

If we all could forever
Behave this way with each other
This way….

[SandalsParticipant 4253]

I went to look up How Do I Love the, Let me Count the Ways, thinking it was by Shakespere. As I read it, I thought, this really sucks. I never realized how much this sucks. Then I looked at the author. It was a women. I was totally mistaken. My next thought was, no wonder we never hear anymore than the first two lines… This poem makes no sense. It really sucks.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

[Colin Combover in a ComaParticipant 5068]

Sandals wrote:

I went to look up How Do I Love the, Let me Count the Ways, thinking it was by Shakespere. As I read it, I thought, this really sucks. I never realized how much this sucks. Then I looked at the author. It was a women. I was totally mistaken. My next thought was, no wonder we never hear anymore than the first two lines… This poem makes no sense. It really sucks.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and heightMy soul can reach, when feeling out of sightFor the ends of being and ideal grace.I love thee to the level of every day’sMost quiet need, by sun and candle-light.I love thee freely, as men strive for right;I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.I love thee with the passion put to useIn my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.I love thee with a love I seemed to loseWith my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,I shall but love thee better after death.

There is some semblance in parts. I would say she/he/they are trying too hard. Doesn’t quite work for me.

[Colin Combover in a ComaParticipant 5068]

The last word should be changed to “always” or “day”

[Branched offParticipant 10934]

Women do often try too hard when they write love poetry. I think they make the common mistake of writing what they want to be told. (Its always all about her). They want a Chad who begs like Beta. Of course in truth if he did they would treat him like Beta within a couple of months and be bored of him in a couple more but love poetry is often more about fantasy than reality.

One only has to look at the sugary gloop boy bands sing -Chads who beg like Beta.

A woman is like fire -fun to play with, can warm you through and cook your food, needs constant feeding, can burn you and consume all you own

[Colin Combover in a ComaParticipant 5068]

Branched off wrote:

Women do often try too hard when they write love poetry. I think they make the common mistake of writing what they want to be told. (Its always all about her). They want a Chad who begs like Beta. Of course in truth if he did they would treat him like Beta within a couple of months and be bored of him in a couple more but love poetry is often more about fantasy than reality.
One only has to look at the sugary gloop boy bands sing -Chads who beg like Beta.

Poetry works best when it is raw and comes from the heart. This one was written in 5minutes after a conversation about “dance” music.

[Author]

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