Do you also wince at the seeds of a watermelon
crawling there inside your mouth?
Do you also feel the bile inside begin swelling?
No way now it won't come out.

I eat only the ripest from the market
yet am forced to spit out with haste.
All the maggots and vermin seem to target
just the fruit I yearn to taste.

Life is a malicious prankster
and whatever grows are her tools.
If you're handed lemons, don't thank her-
for the only ones who take it are fools.

The dinner was made, but something was wrong,
She tried to eat something, appetite, gone,
The view from the kitchen was a sky black and grey,
She got under the table to get out of the way.

Even moms home made cooking couldn't beckon her out,
For she knew fine and well, that a storm was about,
Such a crash, then a light filled the kitchen completely,
Then a hug from two arms,"Daddy please dont you leave me".

As her body was lifted to a warm loving place,
Daddy wiped away tears from her four year old face,
Then it seemed as though nothing could hurt her somehow,
Not the storm, not the flash, not the terrible howl.
As the storm grifted by, daddy hushed her to sleep,
Snuggles up with his baby,safe and warm for to keep.

So, you're sitting in a doctors room, wondering why you can't stop crying,
When he enters saying"It's good news" a result from all that trying.
In a haze you drive to tell your mum, she knows from the silly grin,
And there and then, you buckle up, this journey is about to begin.
So, vomiting and painful *******, and screaming at your husband,
Is part and parcel to this little nightmare, nature calls pregnant.
Oh, don't forget the stretchmarks, and the piles that grow like grapes,
And mood swings, constipation, and eating sticky tape?!,
And now you're halfway through your quest, you look so beautiful,
Your hair and skin look radient, maintaining health is dutiful,
Then little kicks bring on the tears as both of you embrace,
And watching as the tv screen shows up a tiny face.
As weeks turn into months, you begin the preparation,
With practise runs for when its time to get to the nurses station.
Your feet have disappeared from sight, no need for the nail clippers,
And lack of sympathy from him, as your feet look like fluffy slippers.
The lack of room within your womb means little or no sleep,
The inability to get up, so give in, stay in the seat,
So here we go, your waters break, and hubby thinks you've peed,
You tell him"Get the car, or i will squash you like a seed!".
The pleas for pain relief and stupid questions from the nurses,
You try to answer politely, between the frequent curses,
The final throes are happening, you're screaming like a pig,
And out she comes, the miracle, "Oh look, isn't she big?!",
Then suddenly all the pain and grief are suddenly forgotten,
"A boy next" Those famous last words of your poor husband!

I see you, yeah!, you,
Ya *******!.
Leave him alone, take me instead!,
******* and your vaccuum,
I'm done, take me instead, He's got so much more to give.
Standing there, hiding, in the shadows,
Cowardly *******!
Leave him alone!!
Take me, take me!

Phew, ****, what's that smell,
This kitchen soo stinks,

Eww, god, is it the bin?
Or maybe the sink,

Rubber gloves on,
Bleach at the ready,
Approach the bin,
Hold the bleach steady,

Jaysus, what, the hell is that stuff,
It looks like some bread, and a teabag,oo, rough,
A doughnut, all soggy, and out of date jam,
My god im a ******, is that cooked ham?,

Bin is all clean,
But still smell a stench,
I've spotted a stain,
On my breakfast bar bench,

O, ****,
That's it,
My baby nephew did it,
His leaky wee *****,
Has smeared on my chair,
Face mask at the ready,
And tie back the hair,

Amazing how sticky a baby's poo gets,
That'll teach you to ignore the"do you think the kids wet?"....

A normal couple during the week,
But when the weekend comes,
They cancel all that bores them both,
And to passion they succumb,
She bathes in water full of roses,
Soaking up the essence,
While he chills out,
Afew quick drinks then unwraps his **** present,
Thet meet at home, the kitchen sink,
Their first of many meetings,
Then living room, where he comes first,
Her mouth licks up his greeting,
Theback yard table plays the host to we, hot loving passion,
Where she comes next, then to their room,
She models **** fashion,
They warp themselves around eachother,sweat just makes it better,
They probe their bodies, grinding down,
The scent makes her get wetter,
Before they know it, Monday's here,
And in comes that routine,
They kiss goodbye, head off to work, and crave next Friday,s meeting :)

You ever wish that you were a wild animal?

Sounds a bit indecent, but reckoning the sense of freedom, order, and understandings
;then, you'll look at it through a bird's eye

Doesn't it seem like animals have no issues at finding their purposes?
They seem to know exactly what is it, in which what they are living for
Oppose to us humans, they seem to be less frightened by death
Do you think animals have religious beliefs?
Some divine stranger they must let control their life.
Or are they responsible enough themselves?
And/or only have faith in what it mean to live
...Just live

The things in which they used to do is still their tendencies today.
Give me one lion that don't hunt anymore?
One pack or tribe that is ran by female?
One chimpanzee who think swinging from trees is out of style?
One shark who think blood is disgusting?
I never met a gopher who wasn't hip enough, who didn't "dig"; digging wholes
Every cat I know rub their skull, ribs, backbone, tailbone and tail; in one motion against other creatures for what I figure as comfort.
Shepherd, Yorkshire, or hound; however, they all get on the mailman's nerves

Humans... We just seem lost
Not knowing where we belong
Steady trying to figure out right for wrong
Attitudes always going up or down
Need to much to crack a smile
The slightest ordeal can make us frown
A successful human is visioned as having access to the whole world

Do you ever see a honey bee left behind in a swarm?
Or a polar bear climbing a tree when it's warm?

Their world has no critics
No trends
No high expectations

Just eat, sleep, and ****

Is that it?
Or there's more to it?
Two separate lives
But I'm influenced

Imagine yourself
intertwined
with an anteater,
an octopus &
a chimpanzee
all at once
in a room with soft lighting,
beaded curtains,
vanilla incense burning
& Barry White crooning
under a full moon.

Listen, I understand that being happy isn't all that artistic.
That loneliness, anger and self hatred are trendier
than being content.
Unrequited love, jealousy and deep-seeded unquenched desire
mathematically recorded in clever metaphor and
unexpected similes simply sell better than stanzas
sifting and shifting to shape a smile.
But writing is a form of expression, I can only mirror myself.
If only I could express to you fully how amazing it feels
to finally look into that mirror to see me completely
with every flaw, every blemish,
every pimple, every crazy strand of curly frizzy hair,
every tan line, every inch of stretch-marked blotchy skin,
every pet peeve, every tear, every inch of stubbornness,
every reckless thought, every word I've desperately written,
every choice I ever made and truly love every bit of it.
I imagine it feels like moving the ocean; I'm a shining beautiful moon.