All this news on war is starting to get a little bit tiresome and annoying'

I'm sorry I'm not as pretty as her
I'm sorry I'm not as funny as her
I'm sorry I'm not as "cool" as her
I'm sorry I don't laugh as nice as her
Trust me. I live with her every day.
I know how perfect she is.

But I'm a human, too.
I still feel things as deeply
If not deeper
Than she does

;;;;;;n[4mnbjjjjsssssf

If i had to send a message in a bottle
It would be as long as a constitution
I tend to write an elongated amount
On the most basic subjects.

"* Funny how somethings
however different we are
happens with each one of us,
all the time...
  
Like,
How we can be happy and sad together at one time...

Like,
How we all anxiously wait,
Staring at the notification button
to show a new like, a new follower, a new comment

Like,
How we judge as poets,
that, 'Oh, This guy is a newbie,
'Spare me the broken hearts,
'No, this poem isn't my type',
And the worst -
Are you kidding me, this poem is so plain!!
No rhymes no metaphors, did I waste my time reading this?
What a pain!!

Funny,
How we forget as poets,
That the sole reason we became poets,
was because of this itch in our hands...
that arose from our experience,
our past, our conscience
That tempted us to explore our demons

Funny,
How we forget as poets,
that even if someone doesn't have a writing charm,
the whole reason they write anyway,
Is to keep themselves sane

The romantics, the broken-hearts, the amateurs, the no class
Don't worry I shall welcome your poem,
Because I am a poet, a poet like you
A poet writing to feed his demon
A poet writing to keep sane *"

In London zoo a lion escaped
They forgot to lock his cage
It disappeared into the night
Hungry, filled with rage

Poor old Brian had lost his job
His life had hit the skids
His wife moved in with his mate
She also took his kids

He hit the bottle pretty hard
He started to get ill
His grandma died, he got the call
Turns out she had a will

She had millions in the bank
And she left it all to Brian
But on his way to cash the cheque
He was eaten by a lion.....

By A Foreigner

I like Canadians.
They are so unlike Americans.
They go home at night.
Their cigarettes don't smell bad.
Their hats fit.
They really believe that they won the war.
They don't believe in Literature.
They think Art has been exaggerated.
But they are wonderful on ice skates.
A few of them are very rich.
But when they are rich they buy more horses
Than motor cars.
Chicago calls Toronto a puritan town.
But both boxing and horse-racing are illegal
In Chicago.
Nobody works on Sunday.
Nobody.
That doesn't make me mad.
There is only one Woodbine.
But were you ever at Blue Bonnets?
If you **** somebody with a motor car in Ontario
You are liable to go to jail.
So it isn't done.
There have been over 500 people killed by motor cars
In Chicago
So far this year.
It is hard to get rich in Canada.
But it is easy to make money.
There are too many tea rooms.
But, then, there are no cabarets.
If you tip a waiter a quarter
He says "Thank you."
Instead of calling the bouncer.
They let women stand up in the street cars.
Even if they are good-looking.
They are all in a hurry to get home to supper
And their radio sets.
They are a fine people.
I like them.

Never trust a white man,
Never **** a Jew,
Never sign a contract,
Never rent a pew.
Don't enlist in armies;
Nor marry many wives;
Never write for magazines;
Never scratch your hives.
Always put paper on the seat,
Don't believe in wars,
Keep yourself both clean and neat,
Never marry ******.
Never pay a blackmailer,
Never go to law,
Never trust a publisher,
Or you'll sleep on straw.
All your friends will leave you
All your friends will die
So lead a clean and wholesome life
And join them in the sky.

I miss the old us. You know, the us that wasn't falling apart.