Ice-gems of winter
Gleaming dew-drops on
leaves and fruits
Shimmering veils of the rising
Wispy drifts of rose clouds
Lunar flames of Midnight's
A sea to us
From man to ant
The entity of the Earth
For every form that it takes,
it's a page of countless
I wanted to tell you a love story,
But I heard every great story has been lived.
I could tell you of an almost,
almost is a marvellous tragedy.
Of which i have many.
So, lets start again.
Let me tell you a tale of tragedy,
I assure you,
the greatest stories are ones that have been
Perhaps it's this idea
Of a completely unrealistic love story
Which draws me to books so much.
No I'm not gonna meet a boy in a gang,
or fall in love with my stepbrother,
Nor will he have some sort of disorder
Which weirdly makes him more vulnerable and attractive.
This stuff just won't happen,
And maybe that is what makes it so addictive.
Constantly chasing after this big fantasy
Of one day
Acquiring a love so epic
That it transcends time and space
Just to suit you.
That's something worth wasting my afternoons for.
If you would create something,
you must be something.
The poet sits at his desk, his head empty of stories,
the inkwell running dry and the quill motionless.
He used to write about heroes on deadly quests,
rescuing stranded maidens from castles and forests,
always slaying a dragon or two along the way,
but heroes are surprisingly hard to come by these days.
He must adapt to the shifting paradigms in his culture,
all the heroic stories have been lapped up and forgotten,
now people demand some originality in their reading.
He scratches his head and muses on a dream he had,
an actor in a play suddenly consumed by stage fright,
freezes mid-performance as the crowd grows confused.
The audience mutter amongst themselves if this is part of the performance
but those who have been before assure them this is something new.
The actor is covered in flop sweat and his mouth quivers,
anticipating his next line but time is escaping him.
As audience members begin to stand up and shout at the actor,
the memory of the dream fades away and the story goes unfinished.
The poet slams his hand on his desk, knocking the quill to the floor.
He slams his hand down again and the blank piece of paper
sticks to his hand and he cannot shake the thing off.
A moth flies in through the window and attacks the candle flame,
burning its wings and shedding its dust upon his desk.
He thinks maybe he should write about this evening,
the lack of inspiration and a fight with a leaf of paper,
but no one wants to hear a story about that,
the readers demand action and intrigue and mystery,
all of which is lacking for this poet at his desk.
Men’s best successes
come after their disappointments.
It wasnt my best day in fact I was lost like a person who has actual musical taste at a modern pop concert.
Hopeless beaten in need of a hug or maybe something else .
Hey id sit outside with a sign around my neck saying blow me.please if I thought it actually work.
What dont judge me and dudes need not apply that was a phase in college .
Im kidding I never went to college
She was gone and i was alone left with the farting dog and a world of pain while the miserable slut puppy was off having the time of her life .
Minus the dirty dancing and Patrick Swayze wearing his skin tight sexy black shirt .
But nobody puts baby i a corner im just saying.
Sure I was alone my booze supply running low trapped in a shithole no hope of getting laid in sight but who's fucking bitter .
I mean I could replace my favorite nypho barely legal head cheerleader with the snap of my fingers.
Yeah I was totally fucked .
I didn't miss her so.much but why the fuck did she have to take her fucking vagina with her Damn greedy bitch .
Fucking women ya think they could just leave it behind like half there motherfucking clothes but oh no the greedy ass bitches.
And to all the ladies reading this please dont take offense im not calling all of you bitches just the dirty whore I was with for six fucking years but again im not bitter.
I was high and dry left only with half her crap and some farting furry hobo I called boozer .
Hey I was the man!
I was the one that was supposed to leave her in the dust .
It was then I had a moment of genius and yet another stiff drink cause my live in hooker left me to die in misery but who's bitter.
I dialed her number .
And to.my suprize she picked up.
Um are you just calling to not say anything yet again like last night while you play some.fucked up hair metal power ballad in the background again?
Hey sorry bout that last night didn't realize my phone was on .
Yeah was at a total orgy naked chicks everywhere didn't know I called you being I was so busy banging the night away totally not thinking of you.
Yeah that's why I could hear you crying and please pick.better music next time okay .
Well im sorry my.why did you leave me you cold hearted whore playlist wouldn't load .
Jesus Christ Gonzo im.not going to do this with you I told you were done I love you but im not in love with you cause im a heartless whore .
Okay she didn't say the last part but all my stories are based on reality duh there's a difference.
I paused thought about all the good times and kinky things we used to do I was really having one of those sappy TV show moments.
Gonzo what the fuck are you doing?
Kelley asked .
Nothing why just thinking bout the past looking at some home movies we made.
Jesus fucking christ!
Your watching porn and talking to me do not tell me.your jerking off as well you fucking pervert!
Kelley said. In her sexy angry voice once made me think I was in trouble or gonna get a spanking once I didn't fear cause she was on the phone and duh ya can't do that over the phone dumbass reader .
I swear you people who read this are total weirdos I guess that why I love you so much .
But enough with the foreplay children.
After I um got off the subject of if I was masturbating to some art films me and my ex made together .
It was really a think piece about a woman kinda lost seeking to find herself with no gag reflex .
I really miss my hooker.
Sure she was a cruel ,ruthless,lying,Cheating slut puppy but she gave me sex without charging .
To.much that is hahaha I know im fucked up but dont judge me least im a honest pervert.
Gonzo you know there's always going to be a part of me that loves you .
Yeah kid I know .
We were both silent for awhile .
I paused recalled the nights remebred just how close we were laying together in the dark .
Looking into each others eyes .
The scared messed up trainwreck of a soul that always laughed at my jokes.
The silence went on forever till I farted the loudest fart possible It was long and stinky honestly it sounded like a bomb going off and smelled worse than strippers g string after a long night at the club .
Not that I know what that would smell like I mean from what I've been told I mean.
Well at least its good to know nothings ever serious with you.
You drunken bastard .
So does this mean you've seen the error of your ways and are on the first flight home to totally screw the life outta me again?
Okay maybe a blow job ?
Don't think so Gonzo.
Fuck okay a hand job while we watch one of those gay ass chick flicks you like .
Hey you be suprized how good the notebook is while getting jerked off.
Mmm Ryan Gosling mucho sexy is all I'm gonna say.
Im kidding well kinda.
Gonz honey I know your in pain and I just want you to promise me this baby.
Please don't stop writing okay.
Kelley said to me.
I don't care what its about baby just never stop I love your work I always will you know your my favorite writer always.
I just got to figure me out is all.
I paused to drag this story out just a little longer and make the five of you that stuck through to read this shit wonder .
What the hell kind of shit is this nut on.
Well im definitely not on my ex haha but who is bitter.
We spoke a llittle longer I made her laugh as always promised her I would keep on being the greatest perverted short story writer on a site for poets that I could be.
We hung up went are separate ways.
I went on to be captain kickass .
And Kelley she fell asleep at the wheel drove off the side of a mountain dying in a fiery death .
Im kidding well I can always hope .
Im still writing like she asked.
And as long if your reading this sweetheart I know your demented ass thinks its funny .
I won't eat
I won't sleep
I won't brush my teeth
Instead I write.
I won't cry
I won't laugh
I won't see my friends
Instead I write.
Eating does not fill me. When I try to sleep, I toss and turn. No need to brush my teeth when I won't go outside.
Stories are my nourishment. I drift off to dreamland in prose. My soul is cleansed with antonyms and synonyms, similes and metaphors.
Crying brings no freeing feeling. Laughing holds no joy. Friends will soon just leave me and take with them my heart.
I pour my tears into a song to convey all that I feel. I laugh along with Shakespeare as he inspires every play. All my friends are pencils because they're useful and won't leave. And if one happens to skip away, break or reach an end; aisle 4, below the staplers, I can always buy some more.
In front of books, movies never stand a chance. Even if they hold the same story.