I'm the person who cleans up after
parties -
the kind of person who makes the
host ask
"Who cleaned up?"
and leave the room wondering who the
kind guest was.
Maybe it's because it eases my
troubled mind
when I'm the only one who's awake,
but then
you come down the stairs and I feel
a sudden calm
as you hold me in your arms.

Somedays I don't feel like writing
and it worries me because
'Writers write everday --
real ones, at least.'
I fear being ordinary,
which is tasteless because
maybe being ordinary
is what I need.

The appeal of snapbacks
and hipster haircuts
is starting to make more sense.
Blending into a crowd
might suit me better;
to be invisible but
to no longer be insecure.

Rap lyrics make more sense,
even though I can't relate;
these words are my sedation,
these clothes aren't armor
but marketable camouflage.
My words have been said before,
but that might be okay because
I'd hate to torment myself
wondering about my relevance.

So, to move on, I write,
and I write, and I write
to pander and to conform.
Substituting thought for
appealing diction and
strong imagery, afraid
to show myself because
maybe you're too much
like me, which, surely,
would eat me alive.

Who am i?
It a question that stumps me all the time,
I am a girl..........i know that much i think
Sometimes i am sweet, other times bitter as lime.

I believe i am sane,
I mean insane,
Honestly, Its all the same.
But who am i?

I am mistreated because i am not like others,
I am different they say,
What's wrong with that?
Isn't that a good thing?
I don't know i guess we must all be the same in every way.
I might be that one rare black rose stuck in the thorns that no one bothers to touch because its too much work to get it out,
But i hope i am special too,
Who am i?


A girl going through identity crisis,
Her emotions shattered like broken pieces,
There's no dry places left to cry,
Who am i?  

                                                               ­                                  Jonesy 2016©

Here is a rare read,
About a whisper of love, indeed,
I see love even in every tree,
I see love in flowers like these,
As  I feed my miracles of birds, like doves,
I sense a whisper of love,
Maybe there is a God above,
To make all the whispers of love,
There is no glory in a world of dust,
We all know planting trees is a must,
I'll stand here, and feed my wild doves,
Indubitably, these are whispers of love........

I need someone that could help me out,
I need someone that will treat me like the queen i know i am,
I need someone that will understand all the flaws i have,
Well at least once.

I wish that i could be pretty too,
Like those other girls that have their lives figure out here, there, and through,
I wish that i was like the girl who knew her self worth,
Well at least once.

I wish i wasn't misunderstood,
I wish i wasn't so awkward,
I wish i could express myself better,
I wish i was accepted by my peers,
Well at least once.

I know that i could soar high in the sky,
Yes i will like a bird that was meant to fly,
I will conquer everything in sight,
With all my might,
Well at least once.

When those moments come show that you are brave,
And that you are a fighter,
Because these opportunities come.......
At least once.

                                                          ­                                 Jonesy 2016©