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I S A A C May 2022
glue down the edges of the wig
over line everything that is too small
hide everything that is too big
dress myself up like a doll
prance around like a drunken mess
dance around to try and make rent
****** you would think
on the brink you would think
but after the drink and the spotlight
i have no doubt in my mind, this is life
they call me many names, a man of many faiths
or faces but never peep any laces
corset underneath this slip dress
another j to smoke away stress
pennies never my worries
i will be provided for surely
i am doing my work, my work is doing me
i dont know who is in control
is it her, him, he
is it I that takes the lead
after everything is off, the mirror doesn’t notice me
wondering who will ever notice me
Shirley Antonio Sep 2018
Pull the trigger.

**** me.

So that I can no longer paint my emotions with lies.
Sometimes you just can't describe moments you only feel it


I was waiting for my prince but he never came.
So I went looking for him.

It's as strange as people go from lovers to strangers.
Do not bring love today,
I want your shame.


My hobby  now is to see depressed girls with pink wigs.

I need you to hurry up when you're going to make decisions.
Because I need you now.
Here on this terrace near the sea.
Looks like I'm lying on the seashore.



I wanted to be like God.
Have access to a door to the infinite of an unreal place.

To be honest, we all create an unreal world a surreal fantasy when we are rejected.

And so when the pain begins to flow, we look for ways to define love.


Do you think I'm a stupid girl?


Pull the trigger.

It ends my agony of not being able to love.

Pull out the rug.

Drop me into reality.

Sometimes people make us think we're on the test.

No one can see anyone's heart.
But we all have a concept of what the other feels.
No one can see the heart beating.
But everyone thinks we're alive.

Pull the trigger.

And I end up feeling like I'm repeating the same mistakes.
I do not want to have unreal feelings.
Get the feeling of being looking for nothing.

Pull the trigger

**** what's already dead
Contains More Than Kernel Of Truthful

alienation, expulsion, ostracization
     from body politick
     if member of society resistant,
     indifferent, adamant, et cetera
despite differentiation
     (across the figurative board)
     intolerance opposing ethos,
     asper unspoken social graces extant

(albeit manifested amidst diverse
     livingsocial variations) within
rubric of global civilizations primal,
     oral, nonverbal, et cetera codas

     automatically decreeing manual Kant
instilled from cradle
     to grave impossible mission scant
acceptance toward recalcitrant
     challenging precepts via rave and/or rant

thus when born into whatever culture,
     steeped with historical paradigm
one can protest superficial nigh cities
     til ivy blue in the face,
     or try to concoct a feeble rhyme
but culture club richly identified, endowed,
     brewed from heritage long time
ago until the cows come home to roost

hence creative pursuits one direction
     can turn to swiftly tailor
if harried styled
     with perceived restrictive parameters
     and cuss like a sailor
     with song and dance routine
(perhaps appearing on Dancing
     With The Stars), or

choosing subterfuge viz
     writing nefarious malware code, wheremailer
     daemons spring to life, when computer code
     following infinitely jesting illogic causing exhaler

(case in point - myself, hoot
     ends tubby humorous) as yukon gauge
yet another Internet end user might experience
     greater reason to rage
against the machine before
     turning rogue gushing renegade, stage
jing anarchy against disparity
     with equal pay, cuz a working wage

aint nuttin boot peanuts
so if strong willed, hook hairs
     if you appear like a putz
just realize doggerel
     of this pooch iz gaseous
     boot utterly without guts
and hangs around the junkyard
     with other nerdy mutts.
due to me reaching
that post menopausal age
there's a hirsute carpet
growing on my chin's stage

a goatee  beard adorns
in such distinguishing tone
it's envy of my neighbour
Russell John Stone

over the years he's tried
to cultivate an abundant hair tress
but alas his bare cranium
has borne less and less

since my whiskers
are so prolific in sprouting
I could shave them off
for his wig's touting
Randy Johnson Apr 2015
When a wig maker saw my wife's hair, he adored it.
He wanted it and said that he'd pay top dollar for it.
So I cut my wife's hair off while she was asleep.
She walked out the door after calling me a creep.
Perhaps I did go too far.
But I wanted to buy a car.
I went to a used car lot and bought a beautiful red Camaro.
If you're wondering if I got away with it, the answer is no.
My wife went home to be with her mother.
And then I got a visit from her two brothers.
One came at me with an axe, I was lucky that my head wasn't severed.
The other torched my Camaro and covered me with tar and feathers.
It took four weeks to get that tar out of my hair and off my skin.
If I live to be a hundred, I'll never cut off a woman's hair again.
This is a fictional poem.
RH 78 Feb 2015
Near in the distance stood an ant on a chair.
Smooth but spiky skin with a flock of golden hair.
The ants name was Brian and his mum was the queen.
She drank lots of ***** in the largest nest ever seen.
Brian bucked the trend and turned to magic on the street.
Slight of hand his favourite or should I say 6 feet?
back to the story,
Brian was on a chair
Just about to remove it and levitate in the air!
The trick of a all tricks He hoped to be a star.
Make lots of money and travel wide and far!
The chair was removed and Brian floated high. No strings attached going upwards to the sky!!
Not a place for ants and this trick he did not tweak for Brian was last seen in a big birds beak.
The rumours quickly spread when attached to a tree twig was Brian's golden wig.
Asa D Bruss Oct 2014
Andrew ate my tamales inside of 11 minutes,
and soon there will be more kerpustiuous ones ready to taste.
Watching ****** through three different windows; all broken at the moment.
Anyone have a sheet of blood to give to my mad mothers rage?
Let us copulate together for the glory of this fleeting age;
yet inside eleven minutes
the leaning waxy vomper mice shall dance upon my wig and deliver unto me an aching head.
So let me not,
no do not,
let me live
through this night so dark and shmear-ed upon this graven face.
Nay, let me live toward this learn-ed light with a hand to hold,
and away to learn your shining grace.
eh... idk

— The End —