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.

***.
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 like guys with tousled, unkempt hair
who can wear baggy sweatpants around me and still look as dashing as ever.

Someone who can deeply talk about anything from flying pigs to french toast, inspires, and touches my heart the way nobody else can.

Someone whose eyes speak volumes and
whose gaze warms me like a fire in the dead of winter.

Someone who loves me and truly cares about what I do and who I am as a person.

Sometimes
I feel helpless and hopeless.

Sometimes
I want to kiss this country goodbye.

Sometimes
I feel like my life has no purpose.

Sometimes
I want to crawl out of my skin.

Sometimes
I want to love you,
but *you're not there.

I'm sorry Descartes,
but humans are not just machines.

We have feelings and we have love.
We can actually recognize a blue sky above!

We have families that truly care
and yes, we have quite a bit of hair.

If that wasn't enough to start,
we all have a loving and generous heart.

How can I sleep when
sounds are digging my grave
and pounding, pounding, pounding
me beneath the Earth's surface?

Distractions, annoyances,
humming, drumming,
rat-a-tat-tat and this and that
are driving me to insanity.

You sounds are like New York City.
**YOU NEVER SLEEP!

I despise the phrase,

*"Speak American."

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.

I am trying to find myself
amongst the ashes and shattered pieces
of my soul.

Sticks penetrate my skin
pushing past my taut muscles
and searing into my bones,
twisting and wharping my veins
along the way.

My friends have the audacity
to throw stones at me,
bruising the ****** holes
where the sticks reached into my soul.

What is left of me?
I'm asking you because I am
blinded.

What do you see?

A heap.

A pile of bones that look like
a bundle of sticks tied together
with muscles strained and stretched
from the torturous stones.

Dear society,

I have no "thigh gap"
nor any desire to wear makeup,
but I am still as beautiful
as the cover model on the
Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition.

Make sure to include me in the next issue.

Sincerely,
Wistful Wanderer

Tell my heart
to let go.

We need to speak more in
terms of endearment.

More honeys, darlings
sweeties and dears
don't appear to be important
but they are.

Love can be so subtlely
slipped into conversation
by simply placing a
term of endearment
after the phrase
you wish to say.

I'm tired tonight, dear.
versus
I'm tired tonight.

*There is no comparison!

I despise
that look
in your eyes.

Maybe it's the way we danced the tango,
our arms gripped tight around each others'
torsos twirling and strutting down the
street.
Maybe it's the way the fragrant rose in your mouth intoxicated and clouded my vision and thoughts.
Maybe it's the way you grinned when my legs dabbled beneath yours or maybe
it's the way you smooched me after that first performance.
"Querida mía," he crooned.
I still remember when he stroked my hair and implored,
*"Please be my partner forever."

"Did you see that girl over there?
She, like, totally had that boy on a leash."

Now tell me, brainy poets of Hello Poetry,
if this quote appears to be spoken by an intelligent person.
With the addition of the word "like,"
we transform our normal sentences
into a garbage heap of plastic Barbie doll
splatter.
Even the emphasis changes from "totally" to "like!"

Also, that little brainfart before the adjective needs to stop happening!
We are already a culture developing that
grand pause that is present in great pieces of music.
The problem is, that grand pause is in
EVERY SENTENCE!

So next time you say "like" in a sentence,
*make sure it's a simile.

The heart composes music
that nobody can hear
except yourself.

Yesterday a phrase popped into my head
while I was working.
It was, "the illusion of plenty."
I work in a grocery store
and everyday I am shocked
at the number of people
I see on foodstamps.

The US should stop worrying
about foreign wars because people
in our own country
are losing the war
against poverty.

In this precious month of May
will you go or will you **stay?

My eyes scan your horizon
hoping that maybe
you'll stare right back.

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.

Two roads diverged in a wood and I,
I took the one most travelled by
and that has made me regret my decision.

I find it funny how
Tolstoy rhymes with toy
and Delstoyevsky rhymes with **tea.

I have concluded that
the only way to buy real food is
to flee the country.

If I shouted into the void,
*would you answer back?

Treating life like a butterfly,
Constantly caught in a web of confusion,
Choking evil with the food of knowledge,
Breathing in the air of uncertainty and expelling gales of happiness,
Snapping your puzzle piece into the dispositions of everyone on this earth,
Grabbing the horns of courage to lead you to victory
this
is living.