Gary Diamond

Gary Diamond Poems

There's something classically appealing about a good woman
Dressed in different kinds of lingerie.
Some like it so much, they have seperate pieces
For any given day.
...

Of all the things we've been given
Whether by God or by evolution (not sure which are we)
It's the ability of thinking, sensible reasoning
That I call
...

To me, television is a chore.
It is a bore.
It shows half a program, then makes you sift through adverts for more.
...

Closing up and clamming up in social situations.
Walking into a party full of unknown faces.
There could be a genius in there.
...

Does it make any sense to you to say that the shape of a mans soul
Is not dissimilar to that of a weapon.
Certainly the shape was molded and mutated
But always
...

You've seen the funhouse mirrors at the carnivals and fares.
Some make you fat or thin, others short or tall.
Some make you look like you're not even there.
...

If you can't get along in this life
Fucking quit.

Because we're all quitting.
...

8.

Have you ever felt time stand still and then appear to run forwards and backwards
Simultaneously?
Did you ever see a painting of a tea clipper on the wall
Melt and fade into spinning circles like watching several washing machines
...

fairweather friends that'll drift away on the nearest storm.
faces creasing up with laugher amidst uproar.
i used to be a player but playing dried up a year ago.
when you're this difficult to work with no-one wants to know.
...

10.

I hate most of all the damn bigots
The closed-minded fools
The idiots who have forgotten
How well they have it.
...

People admire a good storyteller, even if they can themselves.
Everyone loves your favourite drunken story.
The fighting naked in the street brandishing traffic cones
And so on.
...

Oh no matter what, the price of progress marches on
Ironically to help our lives
Simultaneously making it a worse place to live.
The illusion of freedom
...

A ritual burning of the past in petrol-soaked rags
Rags that now cannot turn to riches
In any way other than distruction
Of personal property.
...

Poetry and optimism are contrary to the human spirit.
The forced-upon thrust-upon festivals merely sap it.
The best forces are the simple, primal lines of nature
Who comes on scene and sense with no furore
...

I had lived in the past
I had let ruin spread like cancer
I had allowed regret to make me
One dimensional
...

you are a set of unique experiences
they make you what you are.
take one away and watch the others fall to earth.
...

i am one quarter of your average deck
i am a social and emotional wreck
on the line; always my neck
as i endure another rubber cheque
...

I often feel I say too many bad things
About a planet
That in truth isn't as evil
As my mind's veiled eye seeks to make it.
...

I like to think of the cynic as the person who once was optimistic.
And was so optimistic and so let down by it
That it turned around on the fly.
...

Those who aren't afraid to die
Those that might welcome it
Aren't quite so lucky.
...

Gary Diamond Biography

Self-professed laziest poet alive. Works in short bursts of creativity before getting bored and not writing again for months. Hates 90% of poems submitted here, but knows that the ones he most hates are probably the ones people would actually comment on and score highly. Influences are Bukowski, Vonnegut, Burroughs, Burgess, Orwell, all the idiots of the world, all the bad landlords and whatever else. Also a musician, painter and intellectual. Party trick: playing four wine glasses at once.)

The Best Poem Of Gary Diamond

A Woman In Lingerie

There's something classically appealing about a good woman
Dressed in different kinds of lingerie.
Some like it so much, they have seperate pieces
For any given day.

I must admit that I've not been lucky enough to have a woman dress up in something lacy
Something sensuously revealing and fancy.
A woman's naked skin is a powerful aphrodisiac
But I'd like it best when you have to peel off
Layers of skimpy lace and silk
To claim your prize.

I dream often about the fifties blond, perfectly made up
And attired in thin silken nightgown, barely concealing
The lingerie beneath almost woefully revealing.
What a feast.

Leading her off to the four poster bed
With the drapes and the carvings.
The best place to be given the gift of head.
And to return it, too.

I wonder if I come across as a dirty old man.
If I do, I suppose it means the forefathers were too.

All that lace, all that leg, all that hair.

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