I bought the shirt
to tell you I was there
when the electric slide was
cool,
when I wore dandelion
hair.
I knew the words that could
school
your mind so that you'd
stare.
With your electric hide
you can go
anywhere,
but imagine your jealousy
when I'm in all the photographs,
not noticing I don't fit.
In the millennium's decade
I wove webs at bars
I healed dames their scars
and gave them my brand.
I told jokes with slight
of
hand;
left coats with nowhere
to stand.
Oh, I was the border patrol,
********* pockets,
though none could pass.
My security measures were
long and vast,
probing questions
slick with crass,
I'd lead them to pasture
epiphanies from my grass.
Yes, I wore the hat,
compliments, too,
but my hat wouldn't fit
no matter what
I told it to
do.
All that time,
searching for something to fit.
Keys slipped out of locks
Numbers ripped off of clocks
women deprived of their... talks,
for my language was divine.
That was the problem:
how could I be divine?
Was I the branded fool?
Was I truly sublime?
A prince I was, set to inherit the world
till misfortune struck, disaster unfurled.
I couldn't fit into my home
or wherever I'd
roam.
I couldn't fit into school
now a blunted
tool.
I couldn't fit into work
Who's that?
****
No, no, don't feel sorry for me...
After all, I'm only 3.
Three things you wouldn't
want to be.
Too round, too soft, too... me.
I'm not the sort of peg
that fits in at any degree.
I'm just the laughing stock,
that you put in your wok,
who tastes bad next year,
that much isn't clear.
Yet if I live in the past,
I'll eat my own tail,
so in order not to fail:
into the future, fast!
Someday I'll find,
that fitting is not the key,
it's learning to
relax,
in something bigger than I'll
ever be.
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 4:11 PM UTC
I bought the shirt
to tell you I was there
when the electric slide was
cool,
when I wore dandelion
hair.
I knew the words that could
school
your mind so that you'd
stare.
With your electric hide
you can go
anywhere,
but imagine your jealousy
when I'm in all the photographs,
not noticing I don't fit.
In the millennium's decade
I wove webs at bars
I healed dames their scars
and gave them my brand.
I told jokes with slight
of
hand;
left coats with nowhere
to stand.
Oh, I was the border patrol,
********* pockets,
though none could pass.
My security measures were
long and vast,
probing questions
slick with crass,
I'd lead them to pasture
epiphanies from my grass.
Yes, I wore the hat,
compliments, too,
but my hat wouldn't fit
no matter what
I told it to
do.
All that time,
searching for something to fit.
Keys slipped out of locks
Numbers ripped off of clocks
women deprived of their... talks,
for my language was divine.
That was the problem:
how could I be divine?
Was I the branded fool?
Was I truly sublime?
A prince I was, set to inherit the world
till misfortune struck, disaster unfurled.
I couldn't fit into my home
or wherever I'd
roam.
I couldn't fit into school
now a blunted
tool.
I couldn't fit into work
Who's that?
****
No, no, don't feel sorry for me...
After all, I'm only 3.
Three things you wouldn't
want to be.
Too round, too soft, too... me.
I'm not the sort of peg
that fits in at any degree.
I'm just the laughing stock,
that you put in your wok,
who tastes bad next year,
that much isn't clear.
Yet if I live in the past,
I'll eat my own tail,
so in order not to fail:
into the future, fast!
Someday I'll find,
that fitting is not the key,
it's learning to
relax,
in something bigger than I'll
ever be.
A lot of my history sort of slipped into the poem here.
Some is obvious. Some is suggested, but not true.
Some is not true, but suggested... yes, I repeated myself... did you notice? LOL
Some is true, but not suggested -_- how does that even work? (You figure it out, haha)
And some is totally not obvious, but wrong or true.
As with all things, let's just enjoy the low-hanging fruit, leave the other fruit to the rock-climbers, and the forbidden fruit to the idiots.
I think I've taken up enough of your time in being silly, haha!
Enjoy!
--- DEW
