it's 3am
Well, 3:08 to be exact

Congratulations Tina, you've made it...
You've seen the time on that laptop of yours,
You've contemplated the thought of sleep but then dismissed it because you know you'd never get up in the morning if you went to sleep then.
You've listened to every Weezer song know to man
You've stared up at the ceiling for a good 10 minutes without thinking about anything except how hot the bottom of the laptop was on your legs
You've checked all of the social media sites while thinking about how you were wasting your life.
You got up and walked around your room because you were scared you were becoming one with the weird furry green chair you love so much.

Two hours goes by in a flash and Mua's just now getting up for work
She walks in, tells you that she's kicking your father out for harboring yet another one of his presumably ****** friends, then walks out, leaving you not very surprised at her decision that she'll forget about in an hour.
That's your cue to get up and start your day that never really started.
You've now walked out of your room an taken a look in the bathroom mirror, staring at yourself then giving yourself the finger as you stumble into the kitchen
Tea time! You love that morning cup of tea, you can tell by the huge frown on your face.
The door is cracked open, and so is your life, so now you've taken a step outside and you realize that the sky is a different shade of purple then it was earlier that afternoon, and that made you smile... in the first time in several hours... you smile.
now you're leaning on the 3rd floor railing drinking your green tea with a familiar tune ringing in your head "my momma wouldn't say you were a nice guy but you're under forty and you have a job.." over and over and over again but you don't mind it at all because it's accompanied by that cold breeze that you've longed for all night.
Now you've walked back inside because your neighbor saw you pouring the last bit of tea you had in your cup over the railing.

Now it's 6:30 and your back in the little fuzzy green chair...
** it.

TINA
The innocent pouty lip
The feminine grin
The Elvis lyrics
The yearner of scandal

KAY
The cynical, annoyed mope
The rock and roll
The sharp black nails
The pursuer of scandal

GRANT
The friend of mother nature
The need for peace and love
The flowy relaxed soul
The denier of scandal

and you wonder why I have a war in my mind.

My passions
My spirit and
My blank stares into heaven
Tell you that I am...
TINA KAY GRANT - The Vintage Rebel.

He calls me his hepcat
He likes to feel the way my hair curls near my scalp
And gets straighter at the ends.
As he runs his strong fingers down my head,
He massages my thoughts until love fills my brain.

He says I'm a babe
He likes to sneak his hand around my body
and place it on my stomach so he can feel me breath
Up and down
Softer then an angel's touch.

He whispers I love you
He never says it to loud
He says words as meaningful as those should never be said to loud and
abruptly, only to wake the sleeping monsters that rest in his head.

He watches me write
He watches my process
And with his eyes on my soul, I've never written a bad poem.

I can't get enough
Of his muscular arms
His beautiful face
And his pretty song.

I love it when he brings me to his shows
He takes me down to the local dive-bars in his red Chevy Nova
Oh how I love his red Chevy Nova, it makes me feel like the bad girl, that I've always wanted to be.

He was born bad, tough, and strong
With his hair slicked back, and his leather jacket that his father gave him
He looks like something straight out the 50s. and I love it.
But in bed with me, we are one with the galaxies, holding nothing but love
and each other.

I have melancholy in me
I call it creativity
I call it thinking
I call it uniqueness

My childhood isn't to blame for the general sadness within
Nothing is to blame
That's just who I am
Sad

Don't feel sad that I'm sad, because sad is just me
It's filled my body, and I like it there
It'd be more sad if I were happy all the time, because happiness is always temporary.

I'm content with my sadness because I know that it's me.
And I'm content with me
Don't tell me to write happy because I never have and never will
Even if the poem has happy words
Just know the person writing is nice n' sad, smiling away the happiness

When you ask me what's wrong, because I'm looking down
and I say nothing is wrong
it's true, nothing is wrong
because sadness is my truth
and it's impossible for truth to be wrong.

It's hilarious
Just think about our past...
the disadvantageous arguments
Arguments about things that we would soon know
It taught us about the future

We were disconnected, probably still are
Just because of closed hearts and minds...
And I'm not afraid to say, a little jealousy on my part...
We were young and thought we knew everything about each other.
We were disconnected, yet deep down in our unknowingly vast souls, we were the same.
I was thinking about those fights we used to have...
I reminisced about the day after your tenth birthday, when we were walking to school and you felt older, much like you do know, you felt proud to be older, I remembered that I was jealous and insisting that you were being mean. I remember your face when I said these things, and I felt guilty, you have one of those enforcing faces that told me that I was wrong.

I remember that one day we were fighting one morning at the bus stop, as we always did. After school, you fought Benny, remember him? We hadn't made amends yet, but I knew that you needed my support, and frankly, I needed yours... so I cried because I felt helpless but you stared trustingly straight into my soul, creepily I might add, and you told me to kick that **** in the face... but I trusted your judgment because you're my older brother and I love you! to this day I don't know if I actually kicked him, but I do remember that we ran home and we were as close as we'd ever been.

I remember those times, and I can't help but laugh, and smile, and cry.
I feel like lately our relationship has been kind of forced because we HAD to get along... but I feel like, if we talk more, like we used to... we could get our groove back. :)

I know this isn't a very rhythmic poem... but
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I love you Ethan!

I had a good day.
It's a rarity
It's delusion
Merely a mirage
But somehow, it's still good.

I can just forget
Forget about the complicated thoughts of maturity
Of lost innocence
And only think of the Mooshkians.

It's stupid really, how really stupid we are.
The puns
The god-like laughter of the three out of place children we are
the immature ****** euphemisms spewing from our ***** minds...
As if one more joke would free us from the social pressures.

We sing as if no one were glaring at us with their judgmental yuppie eyes
Even though we know they are

Those children you see, laughing, huddled up in a circle
You think to yourself that we need to grow up, to take life and grab it by the *****
What we would say to that... well... we would laugh because you said *****.
This is the only time we have to act like the children we are, together.
We all have mature lives by ourselves
Mia, my ******* heavy-metal queen
Mason, my little fashionista
And me, the genius poet
Together, we are THE MOOSHKIANS!!

WE WILL TRY AND WE WILL STRIVE AND
WE WILL MAKE IT TONIGHT
BECAUSE WE ARE THE MOOSHKIANS AGAINST THE BOOSHKIANS
AND WE WILL STRIVE AND MAKE IT TONIGHT.

poetry.
right?
no rules?
right?
just soul?
right?
am I ******* right?

What the hell happened?
I find myself, in a time of complete mayhem
and I just want to write
My beautiful words, thoughts, and emotions
now under duress

"punctuation"
" I don't get it"
I don't write for you.
I write for me.

what the holy hell is poetry if it's not undefined.
the only thing in this quintessential world, that is undefined.

the only ******* thing I have
and you want to micromanage it.
just like you micromanaged everything into the ground.
well, bite me society.
not on my watch, not even on my time zone.

Mother Of Three
Symbolical Tree
Tall And Strong
Feminine With Leaves Of Forest Green

Master of disguise
Fiery chocolate eyes
Constant safe smiles
Protector of the young
Whimsy And fun

Sit and watch her for a while
You see a born protector
Protector of an emotional child
Who was wise and to wild for her own good.

I guess I'm saying thanks
For the trips to the stores and the banks
For the freedom, for the hurry
You went to hell and back for me
Without an ounce of worry.

Happy Birthday

O Razorblade
What Secrets Do You Hold?
Upon The Window Pane
For
Months? Years? Days? Hours? Minutes?
Who Else's Pathetic Blood Have You Drawn Out?

O Razorblade
So Curious You Are
Up There Staring At Me
Judging Me For My Lies
You Won Though, You Touched My Skin
Right On My Wrist, A Familiar Feeling
Aren't You Supposed To Hold A Hopeless Felling When Picked Up For The First Time?
Aren't You Supposed To Release Those "endorphins" Along With my Blood?
My Brand New Room, The First Thing I Saw Was... you.
So Don't Think That I Didn't Notice You
I Don't Want You To Think That I Didn't Like You
It Would Be To Ironic For Both Of Us To Be Disliked
I Felt Happy, Like An Honest Person When You Pierced Me
Is That Weird.
Don't Feel Bad That I Washed You Before Using You As An Exorcists' Cross,
Drawing Out My Demons
I Could Tell You'd Been Someone Else's Tool
I Couldn't Risk Disease
I'm Selfish For That
You Have Probably Been Exposed To All Kinds Of Fiends, Diseases, And Emotional Pain

I'm Terribly Sorry, Dear
I'm Glad I Picked You Up Though, I Think You Are Too...
You Needed My Blood, I Had To Much.
I Gave It Up To You, Up On The Window Pane
You Weren't Judging Me, You Were Asking For My Blood.

You Helpful, Cold, Metal *******, I Love You.

The Boredom
The Longing
The Wonder
The Feelings Of Art
The Exploration of Deep Dark Desires In Every Crevice Of The Human Brain.
The Independence
The Conversation With Soul-God, About Self
I Always Sing Best At This Time, Maybe Because I'm Content With My Soul.
I've Found Another Heaven
The Heaven Of Contentment And Unexplainable, Nonexistent Adjectives.

She Came In With The Stars And The Wind
That Blew Down Orange Leaves

On The First Of September
My Sunflower Sprouts
Her Love Is The Glue

eVERYTHING yOU tHINK yOU kNOW iS A lIE.



Society's rules mean nothing.


Satan is genius. he has consumed the souls of everyone.
If you believe in the biblical 'god', Satan has consumed you,
if you fear Satan, which is fear himself, he has consumed you.



use your eyes to hear, use your ears to smell
smell the odor of the pope.

god is the underdog
Oh, how I love underdogs.

When You’re Dead, Like Me
All You Have Is Hope And Determination
Sometimes Just Hope
Engraved Into My Eyelids Is This Fantasy World That I Hope To Live In.
But Engraved Into my Heart Is All the Time I’ve Tried To Go There But Failed.
Keep Your Eyes On The Prize They Say
But That Little Glimmer Of Hope In My Eyes Tells Them That My Eyes ARE On The Prize
But The Fiends Of Hell Try To Make Sure My Eyes Stay Dead- Looking...
When You’re Dead, Like Me, You Do Everything You Can To Achieve the Fantasy
But You Do It With A Black Heart, A Tar Soul And Glimmering Eyes. I’m A Dead Person.
With Nothing.
But I Am Not Hopeless.

Doubt.
Disco.
Dreams.
Life.
Liberty.
The Pursuit Of Happiness.
Pepsi.
Gangsters.
God.
Rare.
Archaic.
Words.
Shadows.
Red.
Light.
Unknowingness.
Tears.
Pain.
Undercover.
Beauty Queens.
Degenerates.
Open Eyes.

The Things I Want To Do Seem So Unreachable For Me
I’m Confused Yet Hopeful.
I Put Things Off, Thinking I Have Time But I Just Realize That I’m Too Weak- Minded, To Hypocritical, To Judgmental, To Do The Things That Will Help Me Out.
Maybe Deep Down I’m Purposely Trying To Fail, Because I Know That I Will Even If I Try.
Yet I Remain Hopeful That One Day I’ll Get Up The Courage And Self Respect To Shut The **** Up And Do What I Need To Do.
But Who Knows, Right?

In Hell You Have To Second Guess
You Have To Filter Beautiful Truths.
You Have To Attack Your Brain Until It Gives You Ideas and Answers,
In Hell You Have To Become A Robotic Show dog Dancing To Someone Else's Drum
So When I Get To Heaven To The Beautiful Duty Of God, Why Do i Do The same?
Why Can't Society Release It's Breath-stealing Grip?
Am I Just As Guilty As Those Posers Pretending To Be "Deep"?
Is Poetry A Lie, Or A truth?

The Obstruction In Throat Of Tears.
So Pristine
Pristine because Beauty Is Beauty An It Is Good.
Unexplainable Force Pounding On Soul Because Beauty Is Urgent And Paramount.
It Squeezes Soul Gliding To Hypothetical Throat, Choking.
But It Is Bliss Because Beauty Holds No Rules.
Bliss is pain.
Pain Was The Beginning.
It Expresses Superiority, When You Are Choked By God's Hand. or Words. The Beauty In tears Of Words Fell Upon You. Forever Changed. Though Not Significant.
It's Ironic, Those Very Words That Choke You, Restrict You From Saying Or Emoting Them.

I'm Looking For Those Dreamers,
Those Pariah.
Those Who Are Standing On Their Porches Gazing Up At The Everlasting Universe Praying To The God Within Their Souls For Rebellion.
I'm looking For The Children Of The Bad Revolution.
The Forever Angels, The Painters Of The Town
Those Who Have No People, I'll Be Your People, You Will Be Mine.
I'm Looking For The Geniuses OF The Soul, The Paradise Seekers.
I Know I'm not The Only One, i'm Looking For Those Who Are Trapped In Fear, Trapped In Sadness, Trapped in Life.
Come To Me
Rise From The Grave.
I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU
I'm looking For Those Who Are Begging For Resurrection.
I NEED YOU I NEED YOU.

Justification
Explanation
Assurance
Feeds My Inner Eye
It's my Guardian, My Parents
It Knows What Right, Or Does it?
I Think I'm Independent
But I Have it To Guide Me
Does It Do Good, Or Evil To My Soul?
It Is My Only Question
It Is My Wonder
It Is My Angel
It Talks To Me, it Has An Opinion.
IT IS MY GOD.
I AM MY ONLY GOD.

A Moment Of Realization
A Moment Of Cleansing
The Body, Soul , Mind, Head
Cleared Of The Fiend.

Chamber Of The Interpretation Of My Life Moved About Until Clarity
Sweet, Glamorous, Clarity
Though The Body Does Not Reflect The Soul, the Soul Reflects The Body.

His Unholy Body Gone
His Hatred And Doubt Remain


Give It Time, For My Sake, GIVE IT TIME.

Web Of Branches
Hovering Above Patheticness
Patheticness Gazing Upon The Web Of Branches As If To Be Inspired By The Beauty Of The Uniquely Colored Gaps.
Not Really Though.
Once Patheticness Walks Away
The Moment Is Gone And The Undeserved Pride Of Participation In A Beautiful Moment Replaces Patheticness Until The Entrance Of Purgatory Consumes The Pride Then Patheticness Takes Over Yet Again.


That Is Life. Mine At Least.

Peace
Love
War Of The Mind
War Of The Soul
Ashes Of Burnt Paper
Peace Out *******.

On The Coldest Of Florida Winters
The Bed Of Nails I Was Strapped To, The One I Was Almost Free Of
Sunk Back Into My Skin.

It Was The Consequence Of Trust And Hope In A Miracle, A Resurrection.
Once You're Dead, You're Dead.
I Don't Know Why I Thought I Could Come Back To Life.

So I Will Continue To Write What It Is Like To Be Dead As I Will Never Again Know What It Is To Live