Hello there, green tea!
Now tell me,
am I who I ought to be?

My soul must be made of honey
because I can't help but grin
when I see a couple walking
hand-in-hand.

I must have a sweet, sensitive soul.

Algunas cosas se dicen mejor
en Español.

Some things are better said
in Spanish.

Whenever our hands
accidentally touch...
I feel electric charges
crawling up my arms
like vines.
Your soft, supple hands
brush mine and
awkward silence commences
as I scan more items to check out.
Your warmth penetrates
my frigid skin and I
no longer feel
devoid of **love.

Ring around the chamber,
who will go inside?
I'm starving and *****
so why would I hide?

I feel my ribs, but my stomach even more.
Many girls have been violated again and again like penny ******.
I don't know what to feel
because for the first time
I don't think God is real.

A shower will do me good, I say.
They wouldn't want us to stink, if we did stay.
I pull off my stripes.
The nakedness appalls me.
As far as I could see
I found human skeletons
staring back at me.

The door shut, but water there was none.
Every person bled into one
massive grave.
For every life, a soul gave.

Ring around the rosey
pocket full of posey
ashes,
ashes,
they all
            fall
                  **down.

***.
That's what we are taught to have.
That's what we are taught to believe.
Now,
we believe that we are nothing.
Photoshopped models in magazines mock us while we huddle in the corner of our bedrooms with tear-stained eyes because
we feel like the ground doesn't support us anymore.
We are nothing.
Because we don't have multiple bed-partners, we are nothing.
Because we don't dress like we are going to a nightclub, we are nothing.
Because we recognize that people aren't objects we can pick up at a grocery store,
we are nothing.
Well, society,
you got it all wrong.
We celebrate our modesty and morality.
We celebrate the treatment of people as who they are.
We celebrate our reliance on each other for more than just ****** favors.
In fact, we celebrate most
the people who go against the grain of the wood of society.
Ouch, is that a splinter?

I need a guy
that swoons
when I play the piano.

He needs to love the way my long fingers
reach for octaves, ninths and tenths.

He must grin when
I nail my tricky sixteenth note runs
and
he must support me
when I perform ill-preparedly.

Crony capitalism is not capitalism at all.
Rather, it's the justification of the act of stealing
even more money
from the poor and middle classes
and giving it to the people
**that least deserve it.

Now let me go
and I'll bring with me
a wave of misfortune
and unhappiness.

If not him,
then who?

If not here,
then where?

If not now,
then when?

My mind is buzzing with the impatience
of a hummingbird jumping from flower to flower.

*I need a new compass. Mine is broken.

I am not submissive.
I don't give in
to peoples'
demands, wants, needs or commands.
Instead, I help.
I am courteous.

I am not pure.
I have made mistakes in my life.
I don't need to wear a turtleneck
to conceal my body, but
I practice modesty.

I am not quiet.
I have my own voice
therefore it is my duty to exercise
my right of free speech.
My voice makes a difference.
I speak up for the
downtrodden and the oppressed
the frustrated and distressed.

I am not perfect.
My legs are not skyscrapers
and my waist is not skeleton small
but by golly, I think that I have
the biggest heart of all.
Look into my eyes and see the true me.
A woman. Who else can I be?

Let me drink you in.
The alluring scent on your skin.
That euphoric smile upon your lips.

The elixir of emotions
that you stir in me
mixing into a concoction
of love.

Draw me closer to your embrace
because nobody else will EVER
take your place.

Your eyes
unbutton every button
unzip every zipper
unfasten every clasp
and tear through my soul
like a ravaging bull
hungry for a meal.

I'm sorry,
but I'm not meant to be
devoured...

My fingers glide over the keys
like somebody slipping into a silk nightgown,
The accents are of popping corn
and the scales are oily like french fries.

My body surges with intensity
because music has the tendency to
move me.
I sway back and forth
like a weak palm tree
on a gusty Florida beach.

Glassy and sparkling with passion,
my eyes devour the pages of
speckled black and white
desperately hoping that
whoever hears my playing
will feel the same pleasure I feel.

We all end up chasing the clouds
that look like the shape of our ancestors.
We thrive upon the notion that
we all have an equal shot of attaining
"The American Dream" as if
nobody is born into a hollowed-out family that's
chugging one beer after another
As if our parents can afford tutor after tutor
to spark some sense into our miserable existence
in which starving ourselves is the only way to achieve success
not to mention sleeping with the boss.
What foundation does skin foundation play in our lives?
Are we supposed to look like geishas being chosen by a matchmaker
or is it our society that wants to wrap its knarly hand
around every girl's thigh?
How can Unilever pose to beautify women when they
create ads that degrade women's status in society to
"**** me and I'm yours."
Mascara, eyeshadow and every other beauty product known to man cannot hide insecurity.
"Become the circus clown that everyone wants you to be," they said.

What if all girls were skinny?
What IS "skinny?"
We all have skin, so in a way we are ALL skinny.
Think that way and we will have a happier society.
How can companies justify using computers to edit models?
Can't we just see people for who they truly are?
I don't know about you, but I'd rather see a happy person gracing the cover of a magazine in a modest dress with no augmentations.
THAT, my dear, is natural beauty.
No makeup, no excess skin showing,
just **beauty.

And we never realized
what we truly had.

My façade does not show
what nobody knows.

I get most of my clothes from
hand-me-downs or thrift stores.

So what?

What if I like being unique?

Are we all barely afloat?
If so, is someone in that boat?

Listen to nature,
never money.

At least trees can rustle their leaves.
Dollar bills just smell.

We are all lonely in this world.
I think we just need someone
to walk by our side.
The catch is that that someone
needs to stay there.
**Forever.

No duct tape, rope or burlap sack
will ever silence you.
Go out there and say what you feel
because people will appreciate you.
Those that gag you gag themselves
with your lost breaths.
We have the amendment of free speech
so why not use it?
Our society is so worried about swear words that they are not getting the
big picture.
What we need is change and the only way that will happen is if we
*speak up.

Opens book
When you reach me,
I will love you
beyond comprehension.
Our love will be brilliant novel
from start to finish.
It will include epic poems,
romances and even puns.
Half of the book will be written
in your native language because it is
as sacred as mine.
Sparks, spontaneity and serendipity
will accompany our senses of adventure.
Who knows?
There might even be a few children in the future!
*The end.