I am jealous, write your own poetry.

the problem is honestly my lack of commitment
i do not want to do my homework
write this essay
learn this language
or this math
but i want to know it
i have every desire to be informed in conversation
to be seen as wordily as possible
but not in a pompous bossy way
but genuine knowledge
like your favorite librarian
or your uncle with more stories than the Turner Classic Movies channel
but first i need college
and this moment to learn
and to commit
but once again that is the problem.

my kindness is my weakness
not mistaken
but taken for exactly what it is
and you
you peeped game
recognized that nothing in me would allow life to hurt you
so your shield i became
taking every bullet
every sword
every bill collector trying to put you in chains
handling things the way your woman should
the way your woman could
the way your woman would
if your woman was me
but it's not cause i'm crazy
content with being less than anything
no title
no name
no definition
just occasional **** to prolong my *******
i'm itching to get to snitching
and tell all of your women
that it's
no competition
The Problem's coalition
all on a mission to handle all of your business

you're welcome

but i'm not thanked
no gratitude or appreciation shows on your face
your clothes are washed
you're well fed
and your bills, all paid
at this point
every ***** is wondering why does she stay
but my ladies know
we see our men as what they really could be
if they didn't have
3, 4 or well
15 on the team
so you have no time to worry about my needs
cause what i wont do she will
and she does
and she's never done but
she'll do it for you
you lucky ******* fool
the world is in your hands
and i'm Pinnocio for you
my girls know
how my nose grows when i lie
and say i don't care

cause everytime i'm ready to exhale
and exit this hell
of living in the balance with you
you smother me
sucker me
cover me with a pillow of sweet words
and gift me
with a hope filled rillo
you season my chicken
with new found understanding
and pour me a tall glass of
tall tales of how you hope this **** last

and i stay

so for my unhappiness
who else can i blame
but the good in me
for hoping that eventually you will change.

the worst part is the judgement
the looks of disappointment
the sighs that you try to hold in
the shaking of your head when i mention
his name followed by mine and any form of happiness i show on my face
you don't get it
and i understand that
you haven't felt this
you can't imagine it
the honest conflict between my head and heart is asinine
to you
i suppose you feel how the angels felt
watching God forgive the devil
because as merciful as my God is
and with him making me the way that i am
i know
that there is no way the devil messed up Once
and was thrown out of heaven.

i'm sure the devil ****** up
disrespected God's creations
spoke against his power
and the strength of his nation
but i believe God forgave him
and believed that he could turn the other cheek
be wiser
and reget his defiant spirt
because they say we are in his likeliness
so how could He create this forgiving heart in me
and not have that same compassion in Him
and the other angels watched in frustration
i'm sure.
not understanding the relationship between the two
not understanding why God would allow such things
i'm sure the angels felt like you
you who from the outside looking in
only love me and want the best
from your view
and can really only see the tears, and heart break and unbalanced misfortune i go through
you know i deserve better
and you are right
i know i deserve better
and the mistakes have occurred more than once
and i do not know how to explain my heart
or my head
or why i stay
but what hurts more than the pain i allow from him
is the disappointment i see in you
as you
look at me.

so let me tell you of my digressions
my hopeless realm of repetition
i am armed with
2 blacks
4 grams
and a pack of sour patches to keep me snackin
i have yet again
settled in
to my barb wired trenches in this hell

Better Is The Devil You Know
Than To Go Fishing For A Stranger

so i sit calmly
because i suppose it is
Better To Be Patient
than to act out of this anger
cause ive considered killing you at my leisure

Why **** Him
Cant You Just Leave And Feel The Same
Satisfaction

no
cause if i could then
would i be here smackin on these cracklins
I brought those to delay the decaying of
teeth as i endudge in
what's first sour then sweet
my cavity
and i fein
from one fix to the next
Oh wrong C
i said Cavity
i mean
*******
Crack rock
Crack baby
reaching for that pacifier
higher and higher i go
while diving deeper in this hole
no point of return
no lessons were learned by previous heartaches
i ache
cause i aint
exactly who i used to be
grabbed by my foundation
and ripped the roots from under me

God Heals All Things

But what about the ***** that breaks ****
takes ****
gets it how he lives and makes ****
Cause this sweet southern soul
is growing old
and i've been told that revenge is so sweet
and baby i'm gon eat

the troops have been patient
but now
we brazen
and a revolt is all i see.

so it's pressure on my poetry
i revealed my superman
to those who have only known me as clark kent
and the powers of my word play
have now created a voice of their own
                                                                                                      but i'm not ready.
fear is stifling
and yeah i know
that's not how you grow
but who said i was trying to grow
the point was to release
escape or maybe even forget
but growth was never on my list
this has potential to be judgment
to have my raw emotions voiced to ears with open eyes that know my face
there is no hiding
but i'm sure there will be judgement
regardless if it is good or bad it is my life
it is real to me
                                                                                                     this is pressure.
i'm flattered by the new found faith in me
but i've been doing this all my life
and i still don't hardly trust it to the public
this is fear
i know these people
but what if they don't know my emotions
what if my words were to descriptive
or not enough
no this is not self doubt
this is conscious thinking before i walk the plank
would you allow the less glamorous pieces of your life to be spoken to your peers
better yet would you be brave enough to tell your own story
if so then teach me
cause my judgement day is tonight
i hope they get it
i hope they love it
i hope they at least respect
the courage it takes for me to go spit it.

heart permanently broken
tears constantly rolling
creativity consistently flowing
but i don't want this
i had walked away from this
taken the back roads hoping to get lost
so i'd never have to return here
i left no note
or clothes behind
i was gone from here
i know you're wondering why
but even though the fruit is the sweetest
the air is the thinest here
and the juice just aint worth the squeeze
i know plenty that have thrived from here
living a life that was truly derived from here
media loves it
tales from rags to riches
triumph out of the slums and depression and despair
but i didn't want to come back here
here my heart rate slows do to lack of love and happiness
here my eyes swell and are red from forcing out my bitterness
here my mouth utters the most profound words of expression
here i write
not about some roller coaster life
but a constant decline
where i am only anticipating the splat that follows whistling
misery loves company
but i fight it
because to pull you down here
is a crab culture of which i cant participate
i dont want to be here
i dont want to write
but if i discard my pen and paper
then i will only exist here
it will consume me
restrict me from showing love
and creating a smile
it will **** me
so i write
hoping to get to a place where i have nothing to say
a place where i wont need to escape
i allowed you to bring me back here
i walked behind you on a path that i thought would only take me further from here
i gave up my control
covered my eyes
and listened only to your voice
and i followed
and when i know longer could here you speaking i opened my mouth
calling out your name
yelling my regret
voicing my fear
and then i opened my eyes
stained ink on white paper
fighting for each breath
i was here again

your sympathy is not enough
your empty
"how are you feeling" questions
followed by "tough it out you're strong"
is not enough
i am crying
head tilt worshiping the porcelain god
but i am sober
i am a ******* projectile and these are not some high tech effects
i am trying to survive but i am dying
i am to afraid to ask you to hold my hand
or rub my back
or rub my arm cause it's sore from this morning
because imagining that you wont do it
it much better than
asking
hoping
and being disappointed
i see my body changing
this is not worked out this is forced out
because my body now hates me
and Mary Kay cant cover that up
and i guess when I leave team natural
to see what Amber Rose is talkin about
then the infamous rabbit bun won't cover it either
and i am strong all day
but right now i am praying
infront of this porcelain god
hoping that my God can hear my defeat
and will send you to save me
because i am to afraid to ask you
i am the strong one
and if this is to much for me
this is to much for them
but i am weak with you
so be strong for me
let me lay my head on your chest just to hear a heartbeat
let me know that you care and are scared just like me
hold my hand
not because i asked you
but because you realize one day
you might not be able to
let me come home one day to
breakfast cooked and movies ready
just in case i cant go to class
because somedays i need you and a blanket and a comedy to make me forget
or remind me to laugh
your sympathy is not enough
what i need is your love.

i find myself exhausted
by pushing forth and back emotions
like tides pulling oceans
i am drowning in the notion
that you can deny the divide
paralyzing you and I
brush it behind the door
as we brush past each other nevermore
I still with memories of spring
while gazing on falling leaves
cracking crumbling beneath the feet
that walked so effortless over me
who i then tripped
and you fell down to the bended knee
of a mellow heartless fellow
who in fact divided seas.

i just gotta let my body feel this
let my heart ache for missing you
lips miss kissing you
toes miss touching you
eyes miss seeing you
you are missed by me
but i just gotta feel this
because i'm getting over you
i'm not crying
******* to my girls
or writing poems about you
well i guess after this one
cause like i said
i'm getting over you i just aint there yet
cause i walk in my room
and i smell your cologne
and i instantly feel so
mother ******* alone
i've been trying to spray all your clothes
with some of my perfume
so when you're out doing you
you start thinking of me
but i don't think it's working
cause you haven't said anything
and i hate how you smell
because i know
where you got it
i know the girl that bought it
and i just don't want to be reminded
that i'm missing the *******
i'm missing the lying
i'm missing you
taking every piece of me and trying to deny it
and Marley said you're a coward
for opening this piece inside me
and not even trying
to love or stand by me
I miss you but ****
what am I missing
more people have toes and lips for kissing
but I miss yours
i miss the breath you take before you blow smoke rings
the way you dance to music when nothing is playing
how you roll into me in the middle of the night
and force me to keep you warm
because at 3:11 in the morning you need me
and at 3:15 I rescued you
but some how at 3:35 the next day you forget all of that
but I can  still feel your fingertips rubbing my leg
this is how you say thank you
why don’t you miss that
why don’t you miss me
i just gotta feel this
i don’t want to say bye to you
but no longer can I lie
and smile and play like I’m alright
i am sad
but you seem so happy
i just gotta feel this
and let my body miss you
and try to get over you.

This is not a poem.

I just discovered I have Taylor Swift Syndrome. The subject matter of my poems seem to always be my life's tragic dismay at the hands of an "ain't ****" man. I  thus must sorrowfully self-diagnose myself with ,  as well as possibly be the first to officially coin the term, Taylor Swift Syndrome.

What is the cure you ask?

Simply taking control of my actions and not writing bitter *** "why don't you love me" poems. Most specifically my continued volunteering of my heart to people who I know are incapable of nurturing it in the way is so desires and then proceeding to ***** and moan through my creative talent about them not doing what I know they are unable to do  MUST STOP!!

Treatment you said?

A complete subject matter shift of my poetry for the next 3 to 9 month, I'm honestly unsure of how long it will take but if 9 months is enough time to create a human being it is surely enough time to change a mindset. From this point until either August 2013 or February 2014 I shall no longer be a he woman, man hater poet.

Let the journey begin.

-Dr. Rab.

i want to be in love like the movies
but then again dont we all

i want you to be my best friend
then suddenly
become something more

but you are just someone i know
close enough
but no best friend

i want you too kiss me
like your lips were meant for mine
and i'd like to here music in the background
...fireworks too

but the best i've gotten
was tripping over my purse
and falling on your face
as you studied on the floor

i want to argue
then you buy me flowers
and

BEEP BEEP BEEP

morning already
hope i see you again tonight.

i dreamed about death last night
not heaven or hell
or whatever afterlife you believe in
but the actual act of dying
i laid there
body paralyzed
feeling the warm blood leave my body
feeling my chest collapsing
but still trying to breath
opened my mouth
but there was no sound
no mumble
or moan
screech
nor scream
only death and i was scared
where was the light they foretold
or the out of body experience
because i never separated from the pain
i thought and fought to breath until my very last
then there was nothing

to be cont....

**** THAT
so i did my research
and what i found is that
THIS SITE IS FOR THE DRAMITIC
lost in love
driven to the deepest of depression post death
fear
and someone trying to motivate us all
**** THAT
i am not in love
because i am crazy and needy
i am hurting because i miss you and i am afraid when i leave i wont be missed
i am lazy
i am what i knew in eighth grade i would never be
but i hear you Michael
i know exactly where to start
and if you just read this
you know where to start too.

know that i am your best friend
your stronghold
the metal rod to your stop sign
the short hand
to your long hand
as we tick, tick, tock
counting the minutes
and moments in hours
measuring our life together
You
are my family
more important than
polls,prices, and *******
all rising and falling but we
we're going steady

i'm aware of this
addicted to cliffs
screaming girl dont trip

foolish as if
a fish to be taught how to swim
a bird
with two arms as its limbs
unbalanced
as a man
tryna walk on his chin
how foolish is this

love is like drugs
it a choice

until you've
fallen so deep in it
that your
thirst can't  be replenished
your lips are chapped
from dehydration
legs sore from all the pacing
back and forth
your mind is racing
cause it can't stop
your soul from chasing
that next quick fix
and now you're vacant
lost in Time
your mind in space
and you are in it

how foolish is this
to give up consciousness
for a bird to leave the nest
to feel the wind across his chest