Biography of Gary Diamond
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.
Gary Diamond's Works:
Published? You've got to be joking.
Have you read anything I've posted here? I can barely string two words together, let alone write a novel or a big book of poetry.
Gary Diamond Poems
Trust No One
This Is good advice. If you trust
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.
The Human Condition
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
This Is Good Rock And Roll
The guitars are loud and proud and ballsy. The singer's dementia is some kind of palsy. The bass drum will kick and the rhythm will stroll. This is good rock and roll.
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.
Shape Of The Gun
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
If you can't get along in this life Fucking quit. Because we're all quitting.
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.
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.
To The Killer - I Want My Suicide Back
Those who aren't afraid to die Those that might welcome it Aren't quite so lucky.
Death To The Cynics
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.
I hate most of all the damn bigots The closed-minded fools The idiots who have forgotten How well they have it.
Pain And Pain Again
Say it aloud and paint the walls in blood, your blood
No-one wants to listen to how you really feel
I've been forgetting this and that
And only holding on to what feels right.
Maybe I care too much
Maybe not at all.
I'm not sure where it begins and ends.
Does the promise of death scare me anymore?