Rocky squirrel flew through the air
Safely landing precisely where
Caught glimpse as Shirley squirrel
(Herself in front of car did hurl)
Was nearly squished.
Rocky had warned Shirley before
Admonition Shirley chose to ignore-
Cars can smite
Such events reveal it's not merely heuristic
Fatalities by car is greater statistic
Than fatalities by flight
6/23/2019 - Poetry form: Light Verse - I call this a flight of fancy (pun intended)! - No animals died during the making of this poem. - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
They stand at their designations inputting the mindless dribble while their fires die out.
The words flow to letters.
The letters flow to lines.
The lines flow to numbers.
The numbers flow to nothing
The endless cycle repeats for the norm till their just drones of numbers and nothing.
Their nothingness becomes a count for change on paper and virtual.
This is the life of just another statistic.
I just want you to understand where I'm coming from.
I tell you time and time again that you have to change.
I'm willing to be your motivation,
but first you have to weigh in,
work on yourself,
be the best that you can be.
Your immaturity is hindering.
Please stop the life your leading.
Don't be another statistic.
A young black man,
so much potential left unkept.
I just want to see you thrive.
One day you'll look back and understand,
but right now you lack the capacity to comprehend.
Generally speakin’ I’m fine
but you better take it slow, Brother
as time is runnin’ fast
with all this standardizing.
Luckily you can avoid that
and avoid most of the numbers
and well, avoid being a statistic
just make sure to take it slow, Brother.
All the others will want you to jump
as you ask how high
and simply comply
but I recommend otherwise, Brother.
You can craft an independent path
and avoid all those expectations
why would you or I want to jump with the sickness of society?
I don’t condone arrogance, Brother
but I certainly condone independence
and takin’ it slow
and avoiding most influences today.
Nothin’ is so black or white
or a certain case
and you don’t have to listen to a word I say
but make that choice yourself, Brother.
Now he’s gone
I can’t go on
Feeding on this
We ****** him dry
What a great guy
His light side
And his dark side
Are a treasure to
Your time is through
Candidate for suicide
A Statistic in your
Look up suicide statistics. It's a very sad time for many men. Thanks for the laughter.
Today in class, I saw you writing a spreadsheet
Numbering girls looks from 1 to 10
You gave me a 7, told me that was alright
But I don't want you to define my beauty with a number
To the government, I'm just a digit
To charities, I'm a statistic
To businesses, I'm only the amount I own
I want to go back to the days when you wrote poems about me
You caressed my flaws and kissed my imperfections
The day you told me I was gorgeous, I looked myself in the mirror
"I'm actually pretty" "I'm like all those other girls" I told myself
But what's changed since then?
When you fell out of love with me, did my importance sink too?
With a clear view, do my downfalls and my embarassing body diguist you?
You were too insensitive to show the slightest bit of affection
So you labelled me, gave me an average and put me in a category
To you, I just want to be human
To be beautiful
To be loved
The days that i am happy
are few and far between
no, im not depressed
I'm just a statistically sad teen
i wake up in the morning
regret running through my veins
and then i go to bed
with the same amount of pain
— The End —