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Amanda Kay Burke Oct 2018
Tell me what you expected
All the stress became too much
I thought I was strong enough to handle
Sadness breaking when we touch

The memories are tainted now
Frame after frame, pictures taken
Showing same smiles we've always had
But looking back pain awakens

Can't help but pick apart each scene
Stare at our frozen expressions
Trying to figure what really went on
After burning fateful make-out sessions

I guess I will never know
Probably less agony that way
Think I rub salt into my own wounds
Reopen them every dreaded day

Haven't I suffered enough?
Accepted much heartache at your hand?
Never thought we would be here today
I don't expect you to understand

It was my fault you thought I wouldn't leave
Allowed you to push me aside, disjoint
Of course you were sure I'd stay forever
But each person has a breaking point
I never thought I would reach mine
Though thine two grown
     former babes in crib age,
now lead checkered lives,
     no longer monopolize my time

     as though their persons went backstage
either one embracing, judging,
     and negotiating positive
     chutes and ladders with courage

evoking glee this papa
     helped both beautiful lasses
     avoid being risk averse
     navigating life with minimal damage

though to get ahead of the class,
     (asper the eldest Eden Liat)
     credit karma fairly and squarely attributed
     to herself with encourage

meant from this papa, who oft time
     felt he lacked any clue
     akin to a hobbled battleship left
     to drift at sea, whence,

     upon landfall sub
     sequent lee forced to forage
in a foreign dominion (akin to being
     among Settlers of Catan),

     plus devoid of instruments to gauge,
     an optimal strategic operation,
     thus figuratively groping in the dark
     (unaware of a brewing twister)

     guided by blind faith
doth admit saying sorry,
     but apologetic homage
     would disqualify thyself,

     a "FAKE" mastermind
     undeserving of just desserts,
unfairly via diktat plucking sweet treats
     awash within Candy Land,

     a deceptive image
entrancing, luring and, spellbinding
     ultimately incurring trouble,
particularly when Shana Aubrey

     (younger by about
     twenty six months)
garnered lion's share of parental attention
     necessitated mandatory intervention

      due to language
skills, plus pronounced
     developmental delay,
     where supreme social service

     sages gentle massage
wrought divine prestidigitation
     as one after another
     case worker did overencourage

to counteract congenital
     cognitive setback (coalesced in utero),
now finds das dada envious
    (cuz, aye got mired, hogtied,

     and bogged down with
    obsessive compulsive trivial pursuit,
     hence warrant so lucky as thee Punim)

     steers ship shape body electric
     round her uncharted cerebral
     cape of good hope passage.
A written account (that incorporates some
self directed hyperbole) of this veritable stranger
now appears before your screen. Soon
after reading this message, the neighbors

might discern a blood curdling series
of (hyena-like) shrieking screams.
No worry. That would be the mating call
of the hairy Harris mama bear.

Ready! Set! Click!

A scary reflection greets me whenever
I summon up enough steely courage to take
a sneak peek into the mirror. Before
spider lines start to appear across the
shiny surface and subsequent cracks

and fissures dissolve the glassy surface
these deux hazel colored, myopic be
spectacled eyes quickly absorb a most
frightful countenance and visage.

That near legendary and trademark feature
of longish, wavy and brown straggly hair
seems to fill the entire view. Hidden among
avant garde rhapsodic bohemian, Cro-Magnon,
Neolithic, non-every-man style of un-styled
non dread full locks (interspersed with silver follicles

indicative of acquired worry fighting off
garden variety prehistoric creature) can be discerned
a brutish, nasty and short proto-human with
high forehead, which allows, enables and provides
more skin surface to bang against wall when frustrated.

My somewhat outsize ears and longish neck
(I swear exist, which contrary to popular myth
never seen by living persons) support this egg shaped
(fried or scrambled some might argue) head.

A mostly flat and hairless chest attests to a regular
regimen of light (self-concocted) chest-pounding routine.
Exercise (as well as meditation) a vital part of my
daily program to deal with the ordinary stresses
of primitive existence. Coffee happens to be the

sotto voce sole vice, which exotic brews provide
helpful jump-start. I sometimes even chump on cup
kept teeth sharp. That unproductive habit came
to a screeching halt after breaking every pearly white.

Now to that locale known as the trumpeting ****
pull stilts skin. Although the unseen forces of biology
and genetics dealt me an itsy bitsy, tiny *****
(which serves as the but for fellow Apes to taunt

and tease) such anatomical feature offers little
value as the worthiness of ****** prowess.
This palm pilot sized gluteus Maximus offers one benefit.

Ease to squeeze into tight spaces without getting stuck.
This tiny ***** accompanied by a vestigial and
teeny-weensy ****** schnitzel of a phallus, which
undersized **** a doodle do doth bulge into

an erectile state within shooting distance of
coveted warm, wet and wooly private world
property of each and every woman.
A pair of skinny (flamingo like) legs (covered in
adequate hair) now completes this general character sketch.
Mina Jan 2018
debating whether i am allowed
to go out of the house at 8pm
or not
“because i might get *****”

debating whether i am allowed
to wear that skirt that goes little above my knees
or not
“because i might get *****”

debating whether i am allowed
to meet up with a guy
or not
“because i might get *****”

debating whether i am allowed
to stay at my friends house when they have older brothers
or not
“because i might get *****”

debating whether i am allowed
to go on a school trip
or not
“because i might get *****”

Do you see this?
Do you see the reason they give for a woman to not do certain things?
****.

How can we live in this world
peacefully
when we have to fear for our lives
almost every moment
Echoes Of A Mind Mar 2016
Umm...hey
May I ask,
If I even dare to,
Is it okay
If I touch you?...

No, No...
What are you
Thinking?
I didn't mean it
Like that...

I just want
To stroke your cheek,
Pat your back
Or something
Like that...

Ehh...?
It's really okay?
Well then...
I won't
Hold back...

I said
As I let my fingers
Run through your hair
Man...it's soft
Just like a newborn's...

I stroked your cheek
While looking
Into your eyes
And suddenly I
Found myself blushing...

Why was it
That I wanted
To touch you?
And why do I always smile
When I'm near you?...

The truth hit me
Like a lightning bolt
Finally after years
I discovered
That I was
In love...

I'm still looking
Into your eyes
And I feel that I
Had a raise
In my body temperature...

Longing to touch you
This time
In a not so decent way
I looked once more
Into your eyes
And then I said...

Umm...hey
Can I touch you?...
And if possible
Can you touch me
too?...

And is it okay
If I tell you
That I
Love you...?

Can we whisper
Soft words
To each other
And never let go
Of each others hands?...

Can we become
Old together?...
Just like the relationship
You have
With your minivan?...

But right now
Let's not speak
About the future
Let's just focus
On the here and now
And just enjoy
Each other....

'Cause all
That I want to do
Right now
Is to touch you
And feel your touch
On me too...

So I'll ask you
Once more
Is it okay
If I touch you?...
Wanting to show your affection for the person you love/like through actions, but you're not sure if they're okay with it....Or if they even feel as you do...
Caloy Jan 2016
In our life people come and go, that's true.
But sometimes we're the one who come, the one who go.
It could be also the one who let go...
Not until the time I'm allowed to stay in your life again,
let me say this phrase "arigatou  sayonara :) "
E Copeland Sep 2015
I am allowed to hate you.
I am allowed to spit your name out of my mouth.
I am allowed to cry acid tears.
I am allowed to guard my heart.
I am allowed to not speak to you for years.
I am allowed to drink more than I should.
I am allowed to miss you, still.
But what I am not allowed to do,
what I will never be allowed to do is
think that I am not allowed to find love again.
Rockie Nov 2014
The Puppeteers Master
Controlling all his strings
All his movements
All his thoughts
But never the Puppeteers Puppets

The Puppeteers Puppets
Being controlled by the already controlled
Their strings tugging and pulling
To be free
To be honest to themselves

The Puppeteer
Stuck in between
Never allowed freedom
Never giving freedom
But always thinking
About what it'd be like
Being the ultimate Master of everyone else
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