It's me, TIRED...

To be honest, I am a little burned out. I am an important feeling, as well as an important word.
You want to be me so badly that you even say that you're me
You have done nothing to earn me
I feel so ***** when you use me in those un-natural ways
I will not be your scapegoat that you use to fool other sheep!
Why you wanna be me so badly anyhow?
Is it because of this flat earth thing?
I know you say that you're tired of this and that, it's hard to figure.
Trying to be me just to change me?
Well fyi, i am tired when i wake up, tired when i go to bed...
I am tired at my daughter's word graduation
Yes, I named my daughter Drowsy
Let me catch one of you hair brain's using my daughter, and you'll be sleeping with the fishes.
See, I am the original TIRED...that makes me REAL TIRED
There's plenty in my family
You are going against the FAMILY
I treat you nice, right?
Mess around and you will meet my uncle, DEAD
DEAD TIRED
If you ask him, your only good tired, is DEAD TIRED
We will let the coroner be the judge of what you are then.
It is bad enough what you do to those rubber round things on your car
They did not complain, but just showed a little wear
So, what do you do? You changed their name from RUBBERS to TIRES
Just to rub it in that you put your weight, plus the weight of a car on them.
Keep on rolling TIRES...someday may you find some rest my friends

I got these fools

I'm quick to put people in there place and they just put me anywhere
Making me sick and me?
Sick does not hold tired's hand
I don't even like what SICK does
Sick goes along with whatever just for attention
Just like you try to make me go along with your wide eyed lies?

Hey wiseguy
Kiss my ring or you can forget about it
Words are in the family, and dear to my heart

I don't even know how to feel right now

Knock it off meatheads, or you will see what is important

Now, go on, and remember, don't speak my name unless you're asleep...in that case, it's ok to dream
I got guys there too...family

Now stop trying to be me, gangsta...or get you some of me!

the REAL tired...and fam

PS. No little birdy better not show up and tell me things I don't want to hear. That birdy doesn't deserve the trouble.

do you not have any thoughts or ideas?
besides how to stop someone else
besides the constant gripes and *******?

after all, i just met you playing billiards
you asked me how i made the cue ball do all that crazy stuff
that's what started this conversation

and now you say you're done conversatin'
it's conversing...ah...nevermind

sorry that i didn't want to discuss politics
or ****
or jesus
or your neighbor's wife
or ford trucks
or hunting
it's not that i think i am better than you
it's just that i have a different outlook now
think new, and discuss new things
not material
new things

after all, i just met you playing billiards
you asked me how i made the cue ball do all that crazy stuff

it's called english
how i made the cue ball do all that crazy stuff
it's called english...ah...nevermind

was never is, and is never was
accustomed to doing what the other does
is always went left, and was went right
at times in the hallway they'd say goodnight

well, they got to talking one day
it seems that was always comes when is goes away
so the only difference between the two
is that one already did what the other will do

since was, was once is and is will be was
they both do something that the other does
now when is sees was and was sees is
they kiss, because is, is hers and was is his

is and was knows will, but will hasn't met them yet

December,
to me is the Spring time
of memories -
December to me
the birds of
memories flying back and forth,
December to me,
a ****-tail of sweet, delicious,
painful memories, emotions.
Recall me those misty
nights,
the whole city,
awashed with frothing milky light
the blue expanse up above
with stars mischievously
glinting with joy and the moon
casting quiet smiles
upon all the
children of God on Earth.
Recall me those days
walking along with him down a
straight tarred road
like a ribbon unrolled.
Both sides lined-up with
flats embellished with
colourful, flashing, scintillating X'mas stars
bunches of balloons, festoons,
chandeliers
X'mas cradles,
twinkling X'mas trees
like stars up in the sky
both he and me
wrapping shawls around
our coats
hand in hand
sharing honeyed memories and dreams
overflowing emotions
like rivers gushing forth
cracking jokes
witty he was
tongue-in-cheek he was
forcing me to
burst out laughing often
but
in the din of hooting
local trains
running to and fro non-stop
along parallel tracks
outside the flat walls
umpteen of the night-walkers,
love-birds like us
the middle-aged couples
the old-age love-birds
though rare just a
trickle
passing to and fro
in the piercing cold
joyous, rejoicing, such
piercing needles of cold
thrusting into our skin
all indelibly imprinted
on the tender walls of
my mind, his mind.
Now
after years since we
got separated
both at far ends of
the world
while the world
awaits excitedly with
unlimited patience
the birth of Infant Jesus
in a cattle shed at Bethlehem
with the angels
flying to earth from
heaven
conveying the message of
the arrival of
Saviour of mankind on earth
to liberate man from sins
to purify his soul and mind
yes visualising me very much
the X'mas carolls
Santa Clause with the
accompaniment of drum-beats
all sweet things
of the past
reach to his mind
reach my mind
memories never fail us.
December to me is
the Spring time of my memories
with him
December to him is
the Spring time of his memories
with me....

why do i keep holding on
on something so uncertain
uncertain if you really want me
me who only knows how to hope

why do I like you
you do not even notice
my longing stares and glances
glances that I've hidden so long

why don't you choose me
me who kept on waiting
waiting for something uncertain
uncertain as you are

the things im willing to let go,
just so you can know
my feelings and how I desire
to be with you, I would not tire

I tried so many ways
despite the mights and mays
so that we could look eye to eye
won't you ask me why?

i know you have somebody
I know its her body
I know its not me
and it will never be

Every year, in English class, we have a poetry unit.
I rarely pay attention.
I get a low A on every vocab quiz and
I can ******* my way through essays

I like poetry, though. I love it, in fact.
I don’t like analyzing it.

Poetry isn’t made for English class.
It isn’t made for stuffy classrooms in ancient buildings full of kids who would rather be anywhere else.

Poetry is made for reading at three in the morning
When the world is crashing down
When it feels like my insides are my outsides
And nothing will ever be okay
Poetry is there for me then
Poetry is made to hold up the sky
Or at least a blanket fort in my bedroom
Poetry is made for laying me softly down to sleep
And for waking me up to the bright, beautiful daylight
And reminding me that everything will be okay

how do i undo
the feelings i have for you
when clearly you got no clue
that these are all true

how do i undo
to cut myself from blue
though this ain't new
i wanna get over you