I used to want poems, roses and someone
to profess their undying love for me on Valentine's day,
because I thought that was the very definition
of romance.
Some grand gesture
to sweep me off of my feet right towards the sunset,
but that's stupid, isn't it?
**** one sided affection from people who admire me from afar,
but have never once tried to speak to me
before this "holiday of love".
***** those who fell in love with their idea,
society's projection of me
rather than actually falling in love with me.
Because that isn't what love is.
I'm not some perfect girl with a sweet smile
who says hello to you in the hallways,
who will marry you and be home in time for dinner, always.
I was blessed with beauty, passion, rage
and sometimes even a little promiscuity.
You admire from a distance the sugary girl you meet,
but have no clue of the ***** in the sheets.
That's okay,
those parts of my personality are by no means meant
for everyone to know,
I doubt you would love me twice as much
if you were lucky enough to get to know twice as much about me.
None of this is romantic, no part of it is loving.
Come to me with a silly joke
and an offer of a good time,
forget everlasting love and growing up too fast.
There is a reason everyone is so reminiscent of their youth.

there sits Father Time
drinking a 50 year old scotch,
neat.
His compatriots
Sister Life and her Brother Death
sit close by,
the Sister sipping *** on the Beach
while Brother blows bubbles in his Shiraz.
All served at the cosmic bar by The Great Spirit
nursing a big 'ol Long Island Iced Tea.

I'm thinking of creating my next masterpiece,
Brother Death said.

"Maybe this time, don't use a bucket of paint for just one blade of grass,"
Father Time chuckled.

Sister Life spun around
and round on her spinny stool for several decades
until she hopped up atop the bar, proclaiming in French,
I don't make the best hexadecimal frittatas in the seventh dimension for nothing!  

Suddenly all brought their glasses together in a supernova clink
as they cheered
"May we continue to move forwards in the trajectory to wherever the hell we're going!"

I was sitting weeping on my verandah
As the sun went down over the blue, blue sea.
I thought: what is the point of clinging to life
When there's nothing worth anything for me?

And then I saw a little kitten, ill and weak,
And I heard its pathetic little cries for food;
I bent down to give it a tasty piece of fish
And it sunk its fangs into my hand real good.

I was lying in bed last night staring up

at the stars speckling the celestial indigo heavens

like glittery sprinkles across a birthday cake

and I thought to myself:

Where the hell is the ceiling?

yesterday i was wondering where the sun went…
then it dawned on me.

My gift wrapping skills
Are still quite mediocre
I'd really rather not...

When your words are placed with precision
And your thoughts are all in line
When there's the perfect analogy in your speech
He's not there to listen, that's the time.

When your words come out in a jumble
And you laugh 'till you're in tears
When you tell stupid jokes and nobody but he laughs
That's the day that he appears.

Being pressed for time remaining
College days are going to coming
Will be a race against time
Will be a case to save time
Having no time in our hands
Will be a cause of frustration among friends!

Of being compete to beat the clock
Will be ever seeking to make good time for joke
And the moment losing track of time will be a case
But will be fine brings up shine to everyone face
Doing right things at high times
Will be a move to keep up times!!

Wake up laughing
cackle into the kitchen
9:15 a.m. on Sunday
cop-outs couched in cups of coffee
          Sofa King Redundant
Lock the door but no one's coming
          I'm the LORD OF ALL I SURVEY!

Survey says the pilot's out
sink is full and
blinds are drawn.
It smells like sweat and silence
and a mostly empty fridge.

"Everything the light touches is yours!"
Outstanding power bill
          bank statements
               unreconciled
unwashed clothes
and unsent thank-you notes.
Shrink-wrapped books on how to cope.

Maybe I'll ask for a raise...