Do you have a problem with
The way I
Dress
Talk
And walk
'Cause if you do
***** I'll knock your *** to the floor
I might be ****** up
As all holy hell
But **** hunny
I got way more culture than you'll ever know
I don't give two *****
That you've been across Europe
And seen all Seven Wonders
Because at the end of the day
I still got more love
I couldn't give a flying rat's ***
About your big hair
And prettied up nails
'Cause *****, I'll still ******* up
You wanna mess with me
Go right ahead
I'll tear off your throat
If you talk **** 'bout my people
And I ain't judgin' you for
The way for the funny way you
Talk
Dress
Or walk
I ain't even judgin' you for your upbringing
I, too, can talk in a highly sophisticated manner
With my nose upturned
My hair permed
My nails done weekly
In high heels
From behind the gated community we
Both lovingly call home
I can even join you and your gaggle
Of acquaintances
For a night at the country club
So of course I don't judge you for any of that
*****, hunny, I judge you
'Cause o' the way you treat
Me and my family,
Which yes includes friends,
Like we's all some sorta **** you stepped in
Do you have an issue with being real?
'Cause **** you wear
Eau de faux
Like I might be your last breathing sight

Anything and everything is a poem
Because with poetry there are no rules
Yes certain styles of poetry have structural restrictions
But anything and everything is a poem
That can of soda pop or beer just sitting there
The bookshelf and the book
The blank index card
The bag of popcorn
The script for your screenplay
The story of your life
And because poetry has no rules
You are poetry
I am poetry

Nobody ever expects it coming
Yet it is so common

It was unbreakable with nothing to shatter it

Maybe it was just another lesson
I** was supposed to learn
Still how am I
Supposed to forget

Yet here I am trying to know who I'm talking to
Out in the open I cannot figure this out
Undeniablely I can't manage to forget

I'm a little ball of sadness
That gets happied up by you ray of light
You're a never-ending bubble of coot
That loves me and always finds my tail
I love my stick house you made
I'll pay you back in
Hunny pots and love
From my big fat heart
From the tips of my gloomy toes
To the tops of your little black rain cloud

Why is it that at the end of the story
You are considered amazing
When you have done nothing for yourself?
I say you're full of it
Dear Distressed Damsel,
If you're distressed
Why don't you de-stress yourself
Save yourself from the tower
Or whatever problem
It may be that you've gotten into that day
Because all you are is a façade
Playing the victim card
Dear Distressed Damsel,
Get the hell over it

Once upon a time
In the fairest land
Of New Jersey
At a royal wedding
The now royal niece met
The hired photo booth runner
And his name was Nick
Now Nick did not know what was occurring
He thought she loved cameras
She went with her sister and grandmother
Then just her grandmother
Then only her sister
He friend would contact her
On the fanciest slide phone
And to avoid looking rude
She'd stand next to the table
Right near the booth
Finally with her brother
She talked and he talked
They laughed and joked
About how she should get him fired
For interacting with clients
As it was forbidden
He claimed he would travel
Across the country
To the kingdom
Of Washington
For her wedding in a year or so
She chuckled covertly
Revealing her age
Only to find he was twenty
He thought it was funny
And called her cute
So she gave her phone number away
When really she should've have gone
With her Instagram name
Near the end of the event
She invited him to the dance floor
For the most regal song of all
"Don't Stop Believing"
After those five minutes she assisted him
In the packing of his equipment
And they parted ways
Never to speak again
Both leaving
Dumbly happy
The End

Señor Garcia Marquez
Whatever did you mean
When you wrote of life
And of death by family
I'm in love with
Prudencio Aguilar's ghost
Roaming about the Buendía household
Hole in his throat
Washing out the wound
But what did you mean?!
I'm in love with
Do it yourself chastity belts
And Ursula's fear of ***
But why is this even a theory
Your concept behind biracial inbreeding
And Señor do not get me started
On Melquíades and José Arcadio Buendía
Because that friendship was
Fated to be doomed
I mean no disrespect in all this
I just want to know
Why use Macondo as an allegory
For the Angel Gabriel
You're genius, really
But your run on paragraphs
Infuriate every ounce of my writing soul
You're a Columbian Tolstoy
I mean that as no insult
Your works are tremendous and outstanding
But what am I doing
You're now just an old dead man
"Under the ground"
So now I belong to figure out
Why Pilar needs to fill a void
Opened by a ******
And why Colonel Aureliano Buendía
Thinks of his fond memory of ice
Just before being killed
I've paid my respects to your work
Please pay respects to my search

I am a minor miner girl
Living in a go and get 'em world
We come in by the dozens
And I think you all know how this story goes
I try to please everyone around me
Forgetting what's important
And as we all know that isn't the best
I should use my mind more often
To guard my sooty heart
All you other minor miner girls know what I'm saying
But I love and I love and I love
Never stopping to think of the consequences
Sure to follow
I just dive in heart first hoping to not hit the ground
And minor miner girls you know it's true
We try so **** hard
And we always fall
Straight on through to the hellish pain that awaits
I'm sorry if I upset you
My dear fellow minor miner girls
But we need to grow up
And we need to exhibit some sort of conceit
Not to the point of egotism and bigotry
Just to the point of safety
To the point where we aren't always stepped on
And can roll in the Major Miner Girls league
I love you all
Because that's who I am
But as by unspoken and now finally written law
We minor miner girls abide by
I'm still learning to love myself
So minor miner girls
Raise your pickaxes and your shovels
Toss off your hardhats
Because we are about to rumble with
The world outside our mine
We will be
Major Miner Girls

A human is composed of four things total
Body
Brain
Soul
Heart
These things are incredible
Because they get trampled everyday
Each day your body fights off disease
Or tries to at least
Each day your brain has to decide which
Of the "lessons" thrown your way to absorb
Your soul, everyday, handles hardships and mistreatment
Then shows altruism
But your heart
Oh **** your heart
Each and every single day
Must remember how to love
Must experience some cracking and sometimes full on shatters
Then it must heal so that you might be able
To use the rest of what you're made of
And eventually your heart again
We are all tossed together
Thrown in the oven
Baked
Then in the world we are all
Tossed around by different circumstances
Tossed together by fate
And tossed about for strength

The tick tick ticking of the wall clock
Casts its spell on me
And I start to tumble
Down
  Down
     D
       o
        w
          n
Into my thoughts so deep
I begin to explore the stones unturned
In my mind and I try to sleep
But the burning curiosity of it all
Lulls me in a rocking rhythm
As I venture into thoughts unspoken
Thoughts unheard
Those thoughts were locked away for a reason
I stumble blindly about my own house
Trying to find escape
But instead only see what my madness creates
A false hope
And a broken girl
Strewn about the floor
On occasion entrails dragged across the mantel
When I finally find the couch so near
I sit and cry my fat stained tears
And rock and rock and rock
In hopes it will go away
I don't want to know myself so deeply
Because if I do
How could I possibly think someone will save me
Back and forth and back and forth
Faster and harder I try
Which only pulls me
D
e
  e
   p
    e
     r
Into myself
Until I am completely inside out
Full of fear
Drunk on my one hundred percent
No sanity back guarantee
Mad

I am in need of a poem about healing
But no one seems to be providing
My dosage or prescription
I need a poem that when I read it
I feel like there are arms wrapped tight
Around my shaking body as the tears tumble down
I need a poem that when I read it
I can hear the feeling of home
Comforting me, listening to me
I need a poem that lets me know
I will be okay
And that the only person I truly need
To validate my being is me
But also makes me believe it
I need a poem that lets me know I belong
That I matter
And that even though I sometimes am in the wrong
Lets me believe it will be okay
I need a poem that cries and laughs
Then smiles and sobs some more
I need a poem that cuts like a blade
So that I won't feel the need to find one myself
Not that it's ever far off anyways
But I need a poem that
Breathes

So you got knocked down
A few scrapes here and there
A few cuts in covert wheres
Thrown against a wall
With head bashing into drawers
Crying silent angry ears
That stain with salt
Your hollowed cheeks
Your starved body tries to eat air
And wretches up burning bile
But it will be okay
The wounds on your heart are fresh
Those self inflicted even more so
But eventually all wounds close
The bruise over
And heal
You might not be able
To get along like you used to
But it's okay
Because you aren't who you used to be
Any longer
Now you're soon to be
Bruised and healing and
Stronger

As ****** up as it sounds
After all they share my pain
And I know their boundaries
As messy as they are
I can't help but to love them
With such a wide and open heart
I'm a fixer
It's what I do best
I can fill everyone else's voids and cure
Their aching pains that
Come with your right to breathe at birth
Your right to die inside
I breathe life into their souls
Loosening a weight
Without once filling the cavity in my chest
I like my people broken
As ****** up as it sounds
Because at the very least
I can leave them better than when found

You cannot haunt me anymore
You threw me away
I ran back
You threw me away
I ran back
You threw me away
I ran back
You threw me away
You ran back
I threw you away
I told myself I was done with you
That I didn't need that abuse
That I didn't need you
But then I thought I did
So I ran back
Oh **** was she ******
And I was ****** at me too
After all I went to someone
Who has done nothing but hurt me
Searching for solace
Then I threw you away
I deleted you altogether
But there's still times when I hear that
******* song
And I can't help but cry
There are times when I see a car
That looks just like yours
And I can't help but wonder
This isn't a love poem by any means
You're the one thing I hate
But you're a ghost of my past
I thought I had dropped
Yet find myself still hanging on
Why the **** won't you leave
Me alone
You don't care
And I don't want you
So if your God is real
May He grant me some solace
And rid you from my mind
Because for the last time in forever
Will the ghost of you
And your false declarations of love
Haunt my ****** up as it is
Soul

Hopefully

Remember
But your bicep says
Forget
Your clavicle says
Love
But *hate says your
Chest
Your left bicep reads
Happy
But your forearm needs the reminder
Stop
Your thighs are gardens of beautiful
Butterflies
Your back says you're in need of
Grace
But on the inside where only you can see
Your heart says
*Help

Blue for stereotypical sadness
Red for passionate
Purple for bravery
And emerald for envious
Periwinkle for timid
Burgundy for romantic
Yellow for content
Black for suicidal
Grey for the never ending depression
Orange for elated and high
But in all honesty
My heart has no color
It's just a prism
Refracting my uncontrollable emotions

If not for tomorrow I'd live for today
And treat each breath gifted
Like it could be the last one I'll take
If not for tomorrow I'd find religion
And pray on my knees until
I was too sore then I'd pray some more
If not for tomorrow I'd be more sensible
And I'd take more risks because
I wouldn't have time elsewise
If not for tomorrow I wouldn't take today for granted
And I wouldn't live in the past
But live in the present
But I'm only human
So I think to live for tomorrow
Instead of today

No terrorist ever thinks,
"I wonder how much art I've inspired"
No artist ever thinks,
"I want a terrorism attack as inspiration"
How many lives must be taken?
How many different forms of art must respond?
Twin towers
World trade center
Paris
Nice
Orlando
Munich
How much longer must we live in hell?
Aren't we the generation if change?
Whatever this ******* is
It needs to stop
Right ******* now
I wonder,
What's next
I know,
I'm terrified
I want to be,
Ready for whatever you have to throw my way

That I've paid some much necessary respect
To amazing poets
That have inspired, encouraged, and progressed me
Be it as a poet
A thinker
A person
Your words,
Whether directed at me through message
Or unintentionally meant for me in
Your poetry

My heart goes out to
SydRivers
For considering my works exceptional enough
To be a part of your group
Which boosted my confidence

Rare But Relevant
For giving me slight insight to you
And your friend's hearts
Providing even more encouragement
And purpose to my words

Katjie
For knowing everything will be okay
In the end
No matter how hard it seems now

Jennifer R. Fay
For recently admiring my works
And for slightly less recently for
Touching my heart

Kaycog
For beautiful short breaths of life
That include so many juxtaposing
Emotions that can cause a heart
To learn

And finally
To Jack Michael Westland
For beautiful poetry
Help for stories to come
And for beautiful friendship

I realize this is a somewhat
******* poem but I felt
A need to openly thank you all
For the help you've given me
From the sincerity of my heart
So from the honesty of mine
I love you all

1:12 PM, 21 March 2000 PST
-
11:08 PM, 17 July 2016 PST
My life thus far is not
Defined by my timestamps
I am the negative and positive space
That fills the void between my numbers
Some people are "numbers guys"
I, myself, am a "a-let's-see-what-the-hell-is-in-store-next girl"
So **** the timestamp
11:11 PM. 17 July 2016 PST

There's no hope for me to change
Because who the hell are you
To decide who the hell I am
And how my story goes
When you don't even know my name
If you want to tell
I'm a sarcastic *****
That will someday be a body
In a sewer or a trench
Be my guest
And feed the fire that drives me
To kick your *** not kiss it
I've done too much of that
I'm a new person
Not just some thought you can blow off
If you want in my life
You want in wholeheartedly
Not half-assedly
Because I will leave you
In the ******* dust

Every place I turn
I can't unsee the horrors I've known
I can't say I have had it the worst
Not by a long shot
But it hasn't been butterflies

No three year old wants to see
Random men in their house with
Their mama when their daddy's not home
And no six year old should have to see
Parents so enraged
And divorcing
Nor should their best friend's parents
Feel a need to adopt them
Even temporarily

No seven year old should
Feel they need to be twenty-seven
And like they aren't allowed to cry
No ten year old should be forced
To choose which parent they like best
Under any circumstances

No twelve year old should feel
Any desire to harm themselves
And watch blood swell on their arms
No fourteen year old should think they're
Wrong because they believed in love
Nor should they feel jaded

No fifteen year old should contemplate suicide
At all
Especially not so thought out
With a grand scheme and everything
Just two months before their sweet sixteen
No sixteen year old should feel betrayed
And forgotten
Or unworthy of any kind of love

Every step I take I am reminded
That life is a widening gyre
Mr. Yeats, you were right
But I can't accept that to be
The only plausible possibility
Which leads me to believe
That with every step I take
Though my heart is torn to bits
By this minefield called life
I get a little bit
Stronger

******* so full of
Ridiculous lies that make you feel beautiful, when
  In actuality, he's a raging monster just like his father
   And he doesn't realize he's the one thing he hates
     Never really caring though
Enthusiastic ***** ready to
****** friends with false smiles
    Intuitively acting victimized
     Living as an actress of
      Youthful ignorance
Colorful words to make believe
Of help and encouragement
   Lining my heart with first aid only to press
    Eject when most needed
Beautiful and eccentric
Amazing mender of hearts and confidence
   In the midst of everything never giving up
    Loving wholeheartedly without fear
     Even when the recipient is undeserving
      Yet never to be for granted
Selfish and sometimes unintelligent
At making healthy decisions regarding a love life where
  Men don't respect her heart or her individually beautiful
    Mindset and opinions

Cranking out poem after poem
I have too many emotions
That need to spilled
And will only be satisfied
In the form of poetry
It's like a broken up rant
That I can't stop
And I'm still going

Would I have thought
I'd be strong enough
To feel confident and comfortable
In my own skin
I had that for a short period of time
I put myself out there
And I tried so hard
Yet so carefree
I know this is when I was most beautiful
You took that from me
Now I'm back to claim
What is rightfully
Mine

You can't walk on me
Ever again in this world
And you stand there dumbfounded
Wondering what the hell it is I'm doing
You can't infer by my ****
All packed up on the sidewalk
And the tears staining my already ***** face
Because you don't care
I could have really loved you
But you never cared
Until you realized
Just now that
I am done being hurt
By you

I'm not running from my problems
But I'm not exactly walking either
It's more a sluggish movement of necessity
Filled with pain
But I won't look back
Because that's unacceptable

In the middle of the lonesome night
A heart aches and a mandolin plays
Longing and sorrow
Filled to the brim
Of a battered thought driven to the ground
Lost hope and faith
With no chance to rejoice
Pain floods the streets and enters the homes
Just down the road
To the town square
Where under a single willow
A bench does sit
Begging for the mandolin to smile
With its lively tune
With memories of a love once so on fire
That are now tainted with poison
And venom
From silly juvenile mistakes
That no clock or brokenness can take back
To times when joy and laughter and love
Never seemed to lack