The absolute loudest neighbors on the planet.

I loved him because he was smart
And so good-looking, for sure
Not once did I tell him I loved him
Where he didn't say, "I love you more."
But he lives so far away
More than a thousand miles
And neither of us could up and leave
.....
No rhyme or reason to this one.

I'm the one
Commenting out loud
On what everyone else
Is pretending not to see

Back in the day
Church was the first
And only
Social media

It's not that I don't have a response
It's that my brain couldn't settle upon one wise-*** retort
And I had enough time to realize I was in ******* mode
The mature, adult in me
Is gonna let it slide

Your love poem to that girl
Felt like your declaration of gay
Horniness
For her ex boyfriend

I don't have a
"One that got away"
I have a
One I wish I didn't have to
Get away from

Is there anything in the world  More utterly Tempting
Than un-popped bubble wrap?

An actual headline I read today...
"I'm a good parent!  CPS has been called to my house over 20 times, and never found anything"

Nobody likes the one who is telling them about they badd self
Tell someone how great they are
They will surely like you
And probably
Introduce you to all their friends
So you can keep saying
How great they are
Nobody likes the one saying
"Spend time with your kids,
Idiot"
The best friends have no friends
Because
Friends are not always friendly

When your young kids are scared of monsters
You tell them
You know a witch who taught you
A magic spell
It goes...
Any mean monster that comes into this house
Will instantly be turned
Into a mouse...
It really works
And kids can sleep peacefully

The boy is shamelessly magic

There's an incredibly fine line between judgement
And pity
We pity those less fortunate
Yet think they must be to blame
God will punish the evil
That's what the preachers claim

Calling someone a "sheeple"
Only proves you're a hypocrite

It came out
All tickly and far
Until people started pointing
And this is exactly why
You don't pick your nose in the car

Bad luck
Bad vibes
Bad friends
Bad times
***** men
All the time
Power trip
Success crime
Wash it down
**** it out
Happy pills
Lights out

In general
You want to leave
People
And places
Better than when you found them

I describe him as
A giftly person
He leaves gifts around
Most often
Invisible
Wherever he goes
He's a gift
In and of himself
And he has no idea
How precious he is

How can we be
The society we claim to be
While totally supporting
A very, very huge
Entity
Which openly practices
Gender discrimination

I get that you want him
You want him so bad
But it isn't my fault
He wants me, instead

I tried contemplating
What,
If any
Band or singer is reminiscent of
My poetry
I don't know what it means
That I might be mostly
Bare Naked Ladies

Chewbacca never said a word
But we always know what he meant

Religious freedom includes the decision not to be religious .

We Americans have so much Faith in our election process
That we don't consider it can
Be bought
By the richest man around
It's actually delusional
For us to assume
The election was not bought

Aaah
Thank goodness, my warm bed
Comfy place to lay my head
Crawl inside
Snuggle up
Work is done
Finally free
Ugh, now I've got to get up to ***

I do, sometimes
Ache for you
But I never cry

Back in the day
They had prophets
Now, we just have mental health patients

If I get naked in completely Deserted
Outdoors
I still feel weird about being Naked
Outdoors

The ice cream man
With his insistent melody
Holding parents hostage
To the tune of
Roughly twenty bucks
For items they could easily have Remembered
To buy
At the grocery store
For $3.95

I wish for the day
It is customary
For females to go *******
In the beach
Or wherever a man would go *******
And I could do that
I think
I don't think I'd get arrested for going ******* at a Cape Cod beach
But I don't know that
For sure
If I can go *******
I probably should
But I doubt I will
Even though I got great ****
I would love to go *******
Without people hiding their childrens' eyes
And I should feel comfortable doing that

In Cape Cod
We have the Wampanoag tribe
You can see they're so
Bad-***
Because they survived

You say you hate his guts
Yet he's in all your poems
You talk of all his girlfriends
Yet you sit home alone
You count them off by name
Your own misery list
You can't ignore the facts
And we all get the gist
Why you think about this guy
Who has caused you so much pain
It's like setting yourself up
For an emotional drain
Loving someone who hurts you so bad
I have to wonder if maybe you're mad
It's just that you should know it is true
He may be the foe
But the enemy seems to be you

Everywhere I go
There he is
Smiling all the time
If only I didn't meet him
Too late to make him mine

I love a person
Who can admit when they are wrong
Surround yourself with them
You'll be happy your whole life long

I miss you
I wish you
Were not
Exactly you
I wish you could be
A better version
Of almost exactly you

In at least 50 percent, the notes are just as beautiful as the poem.

Better to be a **** up, than a stuck up.

Humans are the only animals
To produce tears
When we cry
Humans are weird

Temper is always on it's
Worst behavior
When hanging out with
Ego

I'm looking forward to the day when there is no such thing as gender
When reassignment will not exist
Because there will be no original assignment
When we no longer use
The terms
He or she
But have evolved to use a universal term
To denote any human
I hope I see it
In my life time

Men are stronger than women
But
Women are tougher than men

I cannot help but wonder if the physical examination
Conducted by medical professionals
To see if a child has been sexually molested
Just might be more traumatic
To the child
Than the origional molestation, itself.

I really, really, really
Need to find a sane guy
Who is crazy enough
To take me on

She was a mirror
In human form
Hated by most
Loved by many

His greatest accomplishment as a poet
Was picking out irrisistable titles
To name his poetry

Remember the time
Michael Jackson
Tried to convince us
He was banging Lisa Marie
Presley

I am the ******* who doesn't want to have to tell you what to do
I expect you to already know what I want

I'm hoping I'm not
The type of poet
Who will be thoroughly
Appreciated
After I'm dead
It would be just my luck
To be famous
Posthumously
All my poems
Shared for free
No money
For my family
That seems to be
The luck of me

He's weird
I love that
But sometimes
I wanna smack him across the face
He likes it
When I wanna smack him across
The face
His favorite sport is "Krista Eye Rolling"
Extra points if he can get them uphill
But the attention is so cute.    , And thoughtful
Albeit, a little gross
He's an oxymoron
Itchy wool, weaved through soft silk
Grossly Cute, softly Uncomfortable, and sticky sweet

That she was not ****** to death
For becoming pregnant
Inexplicably
Is a miracle
In itself
Jesus was most certainly born
Under a fortunate star