{|}{|}

sunflower
solidarities are pleasant enough,

{|}{|}

and they can die on the Hill over there
with the other volumes of
sunflowers,

those
that are puffed up
in their brazen majesty,

that are seeking the envelopment
of warm air,

that are vying for the ****** sun,
as always,

that are holding petals
who creep inside when put upon,

that are sobbing for the other sunflowers
as their radial compatriots,

that are living for all else
that cannot,

that are swaying with intent
that bends them off,

that are dying in beating blades
of grass,

that are toasting to deities
who are concealed in their flames,

that are writing ardently
in their soft refrains,

that are fornicating their pleasures
away from the other
sunflowers,

{|}{|}

that die on the Hill over there
when solidarity is enough for them
to extract pollen by their own strength
and pelt it at the bees
and dissolve on their stems.

{|}{|}

How to become popular.

If you are reading this, it’s probably an indicator that your life is rotten, and that you really just need a quick guide to get through this curse we call the teenage years. Well, read carefully, because messing up just once can ***** up your chances with that girl you have a crush on in 2nd period, or your chances of getting voted in as president for student counsel, or simply having any hope of getting a homecoming date. If you are reading this, it likely means you want to fit in…and everyone wants to fit in.  First, you have to be able to recognize the social patterns, manipulation by the media, and, most importantly, you have to be able to know yourself. It starts with the man in the mirror. Staring at that man who barely seems to glance back, and deciding to change him…for them. First, open Facebook. This platform, which you just barely are allowed to be on, has etched its way into your everyday routine. Even before you have the day’s outfit on, check Facebook, twitter, Instagram, whatever you got. Because in the end, this is what counts. This is where people decide if you are an acceptable addition to the mainstream society we have all come to know and love. Anyways, on these platforms are your social rating. Social rating you say? Yep. Whether you like it or not, it exists. It’s called different things based on what social sites you use. It could be labeled “followers”, or “friends”, or whatever it is that they decide to call it. This number is key, and the goal is to watch it go up and up and up, until you are on top of the world, known by everyone you see, and get 4000 likes in the first hour of posting a selfie. But, in order to get that kind of power, it starts with what’s in your closet and your dresser. Those clothes that you spent way too much money to own is what is going to get the girl, start new trends, and set you apart from the crowd. Of course, you want everything to be coordinated, every shirt, every pair of pants, every pair of shoes, EVERYTHING must match. One bad outfit could risk your followers, your friends at school, and your overall popularity in general. Instead of being told you look like a snack, people will look at you like a moldy piece of cheese, and that…well that’s social suicide. The moment you let your guard down about your appearance, even if it’s a zit on the side of your face, or a blackhead that decided to say hello to your friends, you risk your social position that you worked so hard for. Once you’ve picked out another flawless outfit, made sure there’s not one wrinkle in sight, made sure that those shoes you bought are spotless, then, and only then, can you step into society’s playground. If you’re old enough to own a car, make sure it’s clean, just in case you wanna show that girl you like your wheels, and maybe offer her a ride sometime. If you’re not old enough, or maybe just don’t have the funds to meet this accommodation, than ask whoever drives you to school to leave early, just so you can avoid everyone at school seeing the 10 year old family vehicle that’s been the taxi, the fun bus, the vehicle of doom, the everything-that-you-don’t-want-people-to-see kind of car. But of course, if you don’t have a car, but mommy and daddy have been fortunate enough to buy a sports car, than show up during the rush of other kids getting to school and ask your guardian to rev the engine extra loud so people know you arrived. It’ll look great, trust me. Once you’re at school, you’ll want friends that will make a big deal about you to greet you as you step out. Make sure they’re loud, and make sure you’re loud about the crazy crap you may or may not have done last night. In the end, it’s all about how they see you. Do this or lose your status.

****!
The only real word that best describes this situation
Used as an insult, for example...
******* Woody, for making an amazing man
A far better mother-******* poet than you
Be removed from this site

**** your supporters
And I don't mean those who like his writes
I mean, they're okay
But **** all those who support his alternates
Big Bad Wilf and all that
R, and whatnot
**** them, you do not understand
The capacity of my frustration
That such trolls would exist
In a place as supposedly pure as this

An even bigger ****
Because I no longer have contact with him
Picking off my supporters huh?
Or just going, "**** it
Let's shoot down the real "problem" here"
******* Woody
There is a special pit in Hell
Reserved for your ilk

Just
******