Why are all the poems here melancholy
Why can't we all be jolly
We should be happy with what we have
Make everything into a laugh
I have a bed in which I sleep
I have water and food
But you don't here a peep
From the Africans who are ****
They don't want the new iPhone
They want to survive another day
Every day we moan
About going to stay
In a place where we receive free education
We are greedy
We want a vacation
We are needy
We lack patients
take deep breaths
Why do people cut
If they feel in a rut
Why is there a standard to be skinny
Girls want to be minny
And the guys apparently must be ripped
Getting testosterone shipped
sigh
If you take anything away from this
Be happy with life and cherish every little kiss

Poet, be not afraid.
There are far worse things than
Bad poetry.

Keep writing; like a child keeps
Drawing with the purest of
Disregards to likeness.

The more stones you turn, the more
Gems you produce.

The more ink you rain,
The more gracious your written
Children grow.

All flexing builds muscle.

Rough bricks form castles.

Even Dalì carved canvases to shreds
And started anew
Not caring too much.
Not caring

Too much
To keep painting.

i am not
a nail to hang a picture
a switch to turn on a light
a key to open a door
a broom to sweep a floor

so why must you think
it is okay
to treat me like these few?
i am a person
a mind
a soul
i was not made
to be used


- j.m.d.