Ode to Mrs Slovenly....
Mr ScratchyRainbow hues brushed asideDark thoughts furtively enticingExalt;'Enbrace me!'Damp sheetsVeil conscious thought,dappled vigin lightRecessed shadows running tandemContradict the here and now.Waking dreams leach my willDumped almost lifeless on the floor,pillowsScattered,comfort lost.Struggling weakly to my kneesTender,gravel peppered palmsEnrage.Anger swells my tongue asCarrion creatures jostleExcitement builds,theyScreech and peck in mountingFrenzy.Bruised and bloodiedAccepting of my fateDull ringing echoes,skullBludgeoned from inside:Then.Silence.Intensly bright,white paperCauterizes emotion,staringBlankly i paint myself aMask and call himMr. Scratchy.His long armsFlailing awkwardly,knots in stringPropel the ungainly-Unbalanced as i am by you,Buried somewhere inside meToying with my metal plated heart,iStruggle,shove you hard'Back in your box!'Naughty Twinkle Toes.Valiantly,down the yearsAttrition was your sword,randomVictories grudgingly acknowleged
Yes, I Have a PenisYes, I Have A PenisDo not assume (if I hold the door for you),that I am making a statementabout your inabilitiesto open the door for yourself.If you hold it for me,I'll say 'thankyou'.Do not assume (if I pay for the meal),that I am underestimatingyour earning capacityas a woman.If you invite me out for a meal,you're paying.Do not assume (if I defend your rights),that I am belittlingthe attempts that you have madeto defend your rights yourself.If you defend my rights,I'll consider you human.
the center of the universewhen i die, the earth will remain unchanged.mountains will still soar above the plains, andthe moon will stay in control of the oceans,repeating its orbit around our planet.when i die, cities in africa will remain the same.buildings will not tumble to the ground, andthe citizens will go about their daily lives,repeating their orbit around the sun.
symptoms of red a materialist inside of you unknitting your sweater & in your dream you are a wolf eating a flower in an orange field. the world is ending. an unnamed girl stains you as if she were tea giving up to a foaming ocean. she writes a story: the unrequited blurry visions of two visionaries
How to love a girl who can't love herself.one. When she cries herself to sleep six out of seven nights a week you must say nothing. You must simply take her in your arms and kiss her gaunt, pale cheeks and wait for her to slumber at the sound of your heart.two. On the days where she wishes she were part of the stars, tell her no. Tell her that there are too many lights in the sky and that just one would be forgotten the moment you looked away from it. Tell her that she is perfect the way she is: completely human.three. Don't let her think about the scars that no one but her can see. If she says "I think I'm broken" smile like you know a secret and say, "No, you're mending." But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
On self-loveMaybe whoshe really loves,is the nameof the boyshe thinks of,while she linesher chatoyant eyeswith charcoalmaybe the nameshe really needs to think of,is her own.
Innocence in the fleshI'm six-scatter-brainilysketchinga stick figureof myself,I seek the"skin colored" pencil,to shade in mypeach fleshI'm thirteen-Ditzilydoodlinga classmatessilhouette,an epiphany,a realization:different skin,people posess
Rhyming in PoemsWhy do you all want to rhymeall the time?You don't need to do it,that's perfectly fine.You think it's so coolAnd it leaves poems gleaming,But it desecrates flowAnd can ruin the meaning.It's so bad to rhythm,It's like a bad dayYou wonder why you're notSleeping it away.You think it's the rootOf your writing's salvation,But we all will hate you,All parts of the nation.You think it sounds niceBut you don't even knowHow ruined the sound isHow badly it 'goes'.So the irony's over,Your poems can mend,I'll stop myself here,Before you meetYour end.
Insanity needs companyand now I’m stuck here,pondering,how the walls becamea veiny sight-(could the cause be me calling outyour namein the middle of the night?)and alone I stand here,wondering,how my feet gotnailed upon this floor-(do you hold my ankleslike an anchordoes the shore?)and I know it’s been thirteen yearssince you were here at all,according to the hash markscarved uponthe wooden wallbut I can’tlet goof our memories,that hauntme everydayso for now,I’ll let the doc declare: Insanity needs company.
don't trust me unhinged like a stolen surge of ocean, I become what your girlfriend thinks I am: drinking alone, forgetting your name until it flowers from my blackberry throat I wash my tangled hair in your kitchen sink, malingering