It's hard to breathe
And weird to touch
I was acting so normal
And I was thinking too much

Trying hard
To figure out
Moving onward
Engulfed in doubt

Don't look back
Too much pain
And in fact
Nothing to gain

Filled with knots
Wasted time
I got a penny for my thoughts
When I deserved a dime

Who's to say what's true
I never said I was right
Guess I never knew
It's not worth the fight

Thinking about before
Don't know who I was
Could have closed the door
And never been an "us"

Said you would stay
Promised you could
Chose to walk away
I knew you would

Everything was fine
Said we'd never part
Knew it was a line
But gave you my heart

I'll take the blame
I've always known
I played your game
You lost alone

I know you know
There's more to give
You were a stepping stone
I have a life to live

Hard to love
Weird to trust
Acting typical
Think it was lust

You told me to be strong,
Then you left

Mary had a little lamb
And a baked potato.
Mary had a salad too,
Of lettuce and tomato.

Mary asked for wine to drink,
So Daddy poured her some.
But Mommy said, "If you drink that,
I'll whip your little ***!"

So Mary chose dessert instead;
She had a choice to make:
Should I have a slice of pie,
Or a piece of cake?

But Mary couldn't quite decide,
So she took a bite of each.
It seemed the pie was rancid plum,
And the cake was rotted peach.

She gagged and spat the gross stuff out,
And hurled on the floor.
'twas then her mother grabbed her hair
And threw her out the door

They put me in the oven to bake.
Me a deprived and miserable cake.
Feeling the heat I started to bubble.
Watching the others I knew I was in trouble

They opened the door and I started my life.
Frosting me with a silver knife.
Decorating me with candy jewels.
The rest of my batch looked like fools.

Lifting me up, she took off my wrapper.
Feeling the breeze, I wanted to slap her.
Opening her mouth with shiny teeth inside.
This was the day this cupcake had died.

I ask myself why am I thinking of you so much.
I think about all the moments we shared together and the way we touched.
You know that this was hard for me,
but you decided not to see.
I know I'm still stuck in my past,
but I had a feeling that this was going to last.
I guess my heart was wrong,
Why couldn't I live threw it and not stay strong.
Thinking of you makes me feel this way.
"Why couldn't I just stay".
I ask myself that everyday.
Hold on!! I had a reason why?
Now that I think of it I want to cry.
Still feeling you so much.
I still think of the moment when we touch.

Our English language? A curious thing!
Hammers don't ham and fingers don't fing,
Grocers don't groce and ushers don't ush,
And why is a rear called a toosh, not a ****?
What is the plural of mitt? Is it mitten?
And what's a caboodle if there is no kit'n?
Do women count coins when they go through their change?
Is all lucre filthy? Are bedfellows strange?
You can't have the willie, the heebee or jitter,
And patter is noisy unless it's with pitter.
If a guy's queer, is he gay or just odd?
And if a girl's skinny, is she still a "broad"?
Can you do a flip? That's an interesting word...
Flip a house or a pancake or even a bird!
You'd never say fum without fee, fi or foe,
And why do we go to the bathroom... to go?
Slim chance or fat, they are one and the same,
And **** can be naughty unless it's your name!
So if you love words and you don't take them lightly,
You'll find by and by that you can-can write rightly!

Source: http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/war-of-the-words#ixzz35Z943NKD
Family Friend Poems
Our English language? A curious thing!
Hammers don't ham and fingers don't fing,
Grocers don't groce and ushers don't ush,
And why is a rear called a toosh, not a ****?
What is the plural of mitt? Is it mitten?
And what's a caboodle if there is no kit'n?
Do women count coins when they go through their change?
Is all lucre filthy? Are bedfellows strange?
You can't have the willie, the heebee or jitter,
And patter is noisy unless it's with pitter.
If a guy's queer, is he gay or just odd?
And if a girl's skinny, is she still a "broad"?
Can you do a flip? That's an interesting word...
Flip a house or a pancake or even a bird!
You'd never say fum without fee, fi or foe,
And why do we go to the bathroom... to go?
Slim chance or fat, they are one and the same,
And **** can be naughty unless it's your name!
So if you love words and you don't take them lightly,
You'll find by and by that you can-can write rightly!

Let me tell you about a game I play
Where I close my eyes and fade away

I float away to a special place
Beyond the stars and moon and space

In this special place you see
There are only two people - just you and me

In this place, all is right
Nothing but love, and we never fight

In this place, there is no sadness
No cells, no courts, none of that madness

No rules to follow, no laws to break
No bars to hold us or separate

No one to tell us we can't kiss or touch
I don't just tell you "I love you" - I show you how much

But eventually the game must end
My eyes must open, and reality sets in

But someday soon - I'm not sure when
I will close my eyes and play my game again

Soon I will get far

Beneath our footsteps on a long shore,
The sand is soft and promising
And there she is
A beautiful muse
Waiting for me like there's no fear
In the world
Looking forward for challenges

[PART ONE]
xeroxed, RT'd and plagiarized
so many times on so many blogs
tween blogs to republican blogs
to blogs in Russia and
blogs no one ever scrolls though...
original content is prey
but I have a warning for they:

overrated, over-shared
content aggregators beware
the lines you swap can
rot and ware
the World Wide Web
does not care.

[PART TWO]
original content
original contests
original continent
original controversy
original coordination between strangers
original calvary riding their connection into the battlefield of internet memes; creating nothing and sharing everything

[COMMENTARY]
original nothing, nowhere, nobody except facebook "Funny Vidoes!" & "Cool Quotes!". 'Like' pages whose sole originality lies within their own existence but nothing they share. They steal from the rest of the web and re-post what they find for out-of-the-loop troglodytes; often done so in inferior context and with no perspective. The 'refried beans' phenomenon, I call it. I find it fitting because 'refried beans' are a double misnomer. The name comes from 'frijoles refritos' - which means 'well-fried' not 'refried'. They are also never traditionally fried more than once. Yet the name sticks, it gets repeated, it gets re-shared and now that's what they are: refried beans. This phenomenon is why I believe art and all original content eventually become so over-shared and overrated that it's no longer interesting but irritating. These three parts of the poem "Original Content" are separated in abstract authorial presentation. The author has clearly expressed his dislike for the disjunct un-imagination of the internet and presents it as such.

[PART THREE]
original authors losing control of their audiences who believe they are the creators and the artist's art is somewhat shareable
original miscommunication between web 1.0 and web 2.0 reality
original alphabet they use to type on their keyboards
original grammar they learned in school
original money their gov't printed
original content they re-post
original refried beans
original content
orginal contet
ogrinal cotent
ognal ctt
oc
.