I am fat
you cannot dispute fact
but as soon as I say that
you cannot combat
self worth is about fat
I am beautiful too
those words might confuse you
based on a societal view
my fat body beautiful is taboo
It's my decision
to choose which of these lables will define me
I will not let society put a division
between fat and beauty
Not all kinds of love are permanent.
Some are as fleeting as cloud shade.
Or as momentary as passing glances.
Not all kinds of love are joyful.
You may hear crying at night.
Most will see bruises and hard stares.
Not all kinds of love are willing.
Others have yet to pack their things.
Excuses are always kept on hand.
Not all kinds of love are sweet.
Tenderness will be asked for.
Time a luxury for few.
But our kind of love is different.
It is not something I can put in the formula of nots and adjectives.
It just is.
And every other fucking adverb, adjective alliteration
Words swathe me in calm,
Sentences, paragraphs that soothe.
Viridian verbs burst through the grey,
Taunting me into action-
Seducing me into a delicious dance-
Gypsy girl, swing your sentences my way!
Turquoise adjectives wrap around my wounds,
Embracing my flaws and perfections.
Rough olive skin; somber caesious eyes-
Gypsy girl, with amaranthine scars.
I drape myself over sienna nouns,
Steadfast, supporting me proper, improper, always.
Paper, songs, tree, sky, love, Jami Lee-
Gypsy girl, use your words correctly!
Each turn of a page lures me deeper-
Each spoken rhyme embraces me close-
Jami Lee, sweet little girl, get your head out of the clouds,
And your nose out of a book!
Don't "talk dirty" to me.
I don't want that,
Not nonchalant naughty nouns,
Or violent verbs,
Or anxious adjectives.
I want to be drippingly adorned and intrigued,
By adjectives that ache and torment,
By verbs that are vibrantly vital and tantalize.
I want to be left longfully lusting after lambent language.
that are fantastically formulated
to keep my attention.
Sex is a four lettered word
flaunted by very bad vowels
fevered to ecstacy
by all tangled-up adjectives
Then pounded into submission
by perverted nouns
that take their free liberty
of the subjective
by the iniquity of the parentheses
you will only utter commas
at the Benediction
It's a real shame
that to be noticed
you have to have beauty
beauty is just a noun
why can't we embrace the adjectives?
strange, unusual, different, unique
because 'real' beauty isn't about perfection
it's about those adjectives
who make you, you.
worlds converge in a papercup
come, come you on the tambourine
me on the harmonica
let's make music without the adjectives
let's live on the jingle-jangle of coins
tara na! this pavement
is our carnegie; metaphors
sans adverbs -- no illusions, no fantasies.
you and me and this street --
dancing like gypsies on a prairie
later tonight, while the moon watches over
we'll upstage the stars
with sexy adverbs & adjectives
I looked down onto the paper before me.
Adjectives scrawled all across it.
Beast, worthless, idiotic, suicidal, freak, unorganized, unintelligent, try hard, spastic, boring, arrogant, obsessive.
This went on for ages, at least a hundred negative words against myself on it.
I looked down at the paper as a tear rolled down my face. I crossed out the adjectives. I smiled and flipped it over, and on the back I wrote a note.
"There are many things I can be describe as... Though, those are not adjectives I would use... But the best I could say? Healing."
I looked down toward the paper and smiled.