'It’s the shoes I noticed first', you tell me
fabric and rubber worn-down by too much love
remnants of favorite memories stained into the sides
‘It’s how they changed’, you explain
One day to the next
Flat and easy to Amazonian heights and ankle breakers
‘They are full of surprises’, you say
Just like you
My cheeks flush pink
‘I like that’, you tell me
I wonder, what kind of guy notices a girl’s shoes?
You wait for me to accept the compliment
Instead I roll my eyes
And you see in me a common ally
(Young man in dressing gown enters room, sees a man also in dressing gown in front of laptop, glasses on.)
Erm... give us a clue?
I can't, you'll get it straight away.
OK, is it to do with the football?
The weather, it's raining aga-
Umm... I guess her?
There's something online?
Well, yes, keep going.
I presume the usual.
You know, Saturday nights and she...
Yep, you are thinking what I'm thinking.
Oh, that is a surprise!
I know, I did say at the start...
(Man in front of laptop checks to make sure if it is true or not. Indeed it is. Groans and looks up to see there is no one else in the room with him.)
Explanation: To be honest, not sure if this even is a poem. Written in my own time.
Have you seen the troubled youth these days?
They're not very troubled at all.
They create their own illness then spread it amongst the masses of degenerates.
The symptoms consist of debauchery and disrespect.
They yell to the crowd, "Look at me for I am broken."
No. You are fixed...fixed onto the idea that one must be troubled to be different.
Oh, have you seen the troubled youth of today?
They're not so troubled after all.
Choosing a series a words for a ditty,
Those we first pluck a few at a time.
For readers it will, at first, seem so pretty
When they detect that rhythm and rhyme.
But soon, I suggest, it becomes such a chore,
When words strung together do pose
An oft-trodden pattern or insipid score
That bounces and sings as it goes.
The message conveyed in this rigid frame,
Is lesser I fear than than when we escape
From words chosen for just ending the same
Or some fortuitous fit to that shape.
So I tend to lean towards using blank form,
For verses I build by the letter,
And chose the words that I feel will conform
To that which my heart says are better.
Tell yourself the bathroom can wait no longer.
Forget to go
5 more minutes
30 more minutes
Grab mismatched shoes
Almost miss the mandated public transportation to hell
Walk to a door I know will be locked
Pull on the door trying to see if my arms get stronger since
The day before
Pretend to listen
Have nothing important to say back
“What the HELL you do that for?”
Ride back from hell in a smelly monster
Remember to go to the bathroom
Climb a tree
“Where’s my phone?”
Lose it again
Then do it all
(are you here?)
(are we there?)
(should we pack?)
(should I be crying these tears?)
You think that smile will make it all right,
Do you realise you’re enraging my mind?
Think it’s okay because you believe your better, why?
Like that grin makes it okay to stay blind.
Because I’m young you think I’m dumb,
You count your manners on one thumb,
You speak out; you smile like I’m making fun.
I got a rage that will make you wish you were numb.
Anger, my rage erupts enough for me to lash out,
Punch the wall, should have been your face, ow.
You have directly affected my mood now
Brewing and steaming, to release I jot this down.
Now how do I get rid of this frown?
I apologize for my thoughts and my actions
But you must understand that I am what they call a man.
And no matter how perfect any woman thinks iam,
I might as well be nonexistent.
For women are the most alluring, sinful ,angelic animals on earth.
I am simply bewitched by your existence.
I can not resist directing an x-rated daydream,
Every seven minuets.
The being of your facts,
Makes me want to fall to my death beneath your feet
Something about those hills
That makes my teeth want to sink into my lips.
That voice makes me want to do one thing:
Hear it moaning.
No matter how hard I attempt to be an angel,
My devil enduringly conquers.
We refuse to admit that a
woman is stronger than a man.
We could easily succeed
in having a human being develop
Inside of us and painfully thrust it out of a diminutive hole
Nine physically and emotionally draining months later.
“We could probably do it better than you can.”
We just act ignorant and
Heedlessly assume what is logical;
However, in the reaction center,
that every man denies,
lives the manifest verity that:
To be born into a stormy emotional spectrum
With color and darkness
Alone shelters the truth for you.
Fact: A man does use his small head much more often then
His actual head, simply, because men don’t know how to use it.
How convenient it is to be born with two heads.
let its roots anchor into your minds and consume your conscious.