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jon-tobiasPoems
I know I’ve always said I’d make a better puppy than a man Run your fingers through my face fur again You sweet demon I always walk away like the ending of a bad movie With a dusty roaded hitchhike thumb Only I can drive myself home I know I am so much smiles And bad words I like bad words They feel good So much passion in them Like a Tourette’s prayer Let me sing your song of profanity Like a compulsive howl at the moon I mean, This poetry is so much sound That I might make a better wind instrument Than a man My lungs feel like a one way accordion When you smile because of me You perfect pedestrian Dressed in slow moving smoke signals Push all my buttons again It won’t matter what keys you press I am always loud, obnoxious, bitter music Off key like the ***** twang Of my harmonica exhale Nothing pretty comes from this Even the music I’ve read between these lines Enough to rewrite paragraphs and pages Each version There’s still you in the middle Still you at the end And If I were a man A good man I’d pick up the confetti That falls All inked up bits of paper From words I chewed and choked on Trying to tell you If I were a man I’d love you like one
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Mar 18, 2012
Mar 18, 2012 at 3:54 PM UTC
I've Always Said V.2
I know I’ve always said I’d make a better puppy than a man Run your fingers through my face fur again You sweet demon I always walk away like the ending of a bad movie With a dusty roaded hitchhike thumb Only I can drive myself home I know I am so much smiles And bad words I like bad words They feel good So much passion in them Like a Tourette’s prayer Let me sing your song of profanity Like a compulsive howl at the moon I mean, This poetry is so much sound That I might make a better wind instrument Than a man My lungs feel like a one way accordion When you smile because of me You perfect pedestrian Dressed in slow moving smoke signals Push all my buttons again It won’t matter what keys you press I am always loud, obnoxious, bitter music Off key like the ***** twang Of my harmonica exhale Nothing pretty comes from this Even the music I’ve read between these lines Enough to rewrite paragraphs and pages Each version There’s still you in the middle Still you at the end And If I were a man A good man I’d pick up the confetti That falls All inked up bits of paper From words I chewed and choked on Trying to tell you If I were a man I’d love you like one
I will be very happy when I can finally stop writing love poetry.
jon-tobias
Written by
jon-tobias
American
Mar 18, 2012
Mar 18, 2012 at 3:54 PM UTC
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