During a walk through the hallway
of the primary school
I find hallways
filled with turkeys and leafs and stiff scrawled characters.
What is Mr. Smith's class thankful for?
Flowers and toys and cars and dresses and pink and purple and soccer and skirts and barbies and family.

How could you sum up all of the things you are thankful for in one word?
At the end of the hallway I am faced with a choice:
What are you thankful for?
-----------------------------------------------------------­------------------------------------------------------------
What­ am I thankful for?
Happiness, and family and security and nature and
friends.
I am thankful for friends.
I am thankful for laughs and chatts and cries and sobs and games and smiles.

I am thanful for ****** contortions and 80s dance sessions,
for inabilty to speak.
I am thankful for hobos, eating on the side of the road,
and for devious scheymes of intoxicatation.

Hep beni anlayan bir arkadaşım var müteşekkirim
and who listens to my sob stories.
I am thankful for singing in the rain.
And styling hair in the sink
for screeching and howling
and hissing.

I am thankful for obkirchergasses,
for Ströcks and for ice cream plarlours.
I am thankful for mentos,
and walnuts.

I am thankful for bad lip readings and hilarious youtube vidoes.
I am thankful for unknown languages and nymphs
and for eloquence.
I am thankful for good taste in music
and for strong opinions.

I am thankful for dancing indian pirates with demon chicks and fireballs.
I am thankful for two-headed teenagers and barbeques.
I am thankful for God and healthy choice prayers,
and Hawaii get aways.

I am thankful for huge, hanging sweaters and crazy, funky leggings.
I am thankful for deep talks about the world's lack of beauty
and for poetry buddies.

I am thankful for dodgeball playing mice,
and poor old wenches.
I am thankful for pirate and mermaid adventures.

I am thankful for the looks we get:
looks of loud disapproval,
and whispers of quiet exasperation.

I am thankful for golden men and loud singing,
for crazy dances with crazy cousins and cute brothers.
I am thankful for Aunt Jemima.

I am thankful for banging on metal bars with rocks and shouting at the top of our lungs.
I am thankful for climbing over gates in order to not step on cracks.
I am thankful for amazing humanities teachers.
I am thankful for a laugh when the day is over.
-----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------------------------------------
How those kids manage to fit all of their thankfulness into one word  is beyond me.
Even the one-word things we are thankful for, must be described with a million words.

Retailers hope to net profits with the overlapping of holiday seasons.
Thanksgiving is yet to be history; but, out comes the Christmas trimmings.
No big surprise seeing holiday reminders arriving and filling mail box,
comes with pre-season, this early blitz of commercials on tv now the net.

Early arrival of holiday brings bell ringers standing between shopper's exit,
a failure to repeat and repeat donations, brings looks of extreme displeasure.
Each and every time you enter or exit discount, drug, and many retail stores,
shoppers face not only bell ringers; but, 365 days donate at register requests.

Most can't equal billion dollar give aways by Bill and Melinda Gates' circle.
Most work extremely hard and donate but also choose to live on budgets.
I donate and have nothing against charities; but, how much should one give?
Retailers, putting shoppers on the spot, asking for donations upon check out?

Never a pinch penny when it comes to sharing when there's an "actual" need,
generosity is always a personal choice, I let guilt not be my companion in giving.
Multiple donations to canister's of amnesiac holiday bell ringers? Wont happen!
Nothing against legit charities; but, giving until you're broke, you "will" be needy.

OUT-WORN heart, in a time out-worn,
Come clear of the nets of wrong and right;
Laugh, heart, again in the grey twilight,
Sigh, heart, again in the dew of the morn.
Your mother Eire is aways young,
Dew ever shining and twilight grey;
Though hope fall from you and love decay,
Burning in fires of a slanderous tongue.
Come, heart, where hill is heaped upon hill:
For there the mystical brotherhood
Of sun and moon and hollow and wood
And river and stream work out their will;
And God stands winding His lonely horn,
And time and the world are ever in flight;
And love is less kind than the grey twilight,
And hope is less dear than the dew of the morn.

I don't want smart.
I want spontaneous.

I don't want roses and a candle-lit dinner.
I want drunken nights by the campfire.

I don't want a boy that says 'I love you'
Because I don't believe in love
And, even if I did,
I'm not emotionally capable of feeling it.
I want a boy that's okay with that.

I don't want a boy that showers me with compliments
or a knight in shining armor.
I don't want mushy love letters or romantic get aways.
I don't want a boy who's looking for a wife
because I don't believe in marriage.
And I don't want a lover.
I want a partner in crime.

I want a boy with chaos flickering in his eyes.
I want a boy who smiles a lot.
I want contagious laughter.
I want loud.
I want steamy kisses where he presses my body into his and my skin tingles.

I don't want late night phone calls or 'Good morning' texts.
I want a boy that calls me out on my *******.
I want a boy that pushes my buttons.
I want a challenge.

I don't want a boy that makes me feel pretty.
I want a boy that makes me feel alive.

I want a boy that taps on my window in the middle of the night
And brings me on a starlit adventure.

I don't want a boy that makes love.
I want a boy that will **** me raw.
And I want a boy that will let me pass out on him afterwards.
And I want a boy that won't get offended if I move away in the middle of the night
Because cuddling hurts my neck and his heartbeat is keeping me awake.

I don't want a boy that holds hands.
I want a boy that drives too fast.
I don't want a boy that babies me.
And I don't want a shoulder to cry on
Because I'm not fragile
And I can take care of myself.
I want a boy that pushes me into oncoming sprinklers
And doesn't hold anything back.

I don't want a boy that's looking for forever
because forever seems like a really long time.
I want a boy that goes day by day.

I don't want safe.
I want to go fast.
I want to live on the edge.
I want exhilaration.

I don't want to be wanted.
I want to want.

I don't understand why I am so caught up
In wanting go be pretty
You can BUY pretty
It comes in pretty bottles
Scented cream-form
Sealable powder containers
And tube mixed with glitter
A beautiful soul
Cannot be bought
But a kind-of-ish guy friend
Told me I was pretty today
I think he was just being kind though
And I wouldn't be interested anyway
Then earlier today
Some random grade 2 kids
Yelled at me
As I was walking out the door:
You're hot
Great so five seven year old boys
Think I'm hot
I don't think that counts
In fact it probably means im extra ugly
'Cause you can't trust a grade 2's taste
But that's not my problem
My problem is
Beauty is aways
What girls are complimented on
When it is so common
It has a price tag.
What has our society descended to
When "pretty" is the goal

I miss your *****
Almost as much as i miss your *******
I want you more than i can comprehend
These perverted thoughts i dont even pretend
Theyre not all i think about all day
Also i can honestly say
I ******* to her
At a massive rate
It blows my mind
How one of a kind
This georgious ******* girl is
Please oh please will ya be my miss
I swear ill be better to you
Than anybody ever you never knew
If you swear down youll be mine
Ill bring you flowers on valentines
Black roses that remind us of death and ****
Ill make sure you are aways well lit
High as a kite you know what i mean?
And dispite of how crazy it seems,
When i do finally greet death,
Hopfully overdosed on some neat ****,
I will be embraced by satan himself,
BUT WHAT NO! WHATS THAT BEHIND THE SHELF?!
Out flys a glorious Anni
Chariot pulled by badass pegasi
She pulls out her mighty scabard
Slices and dices the decaying *******
wait wait went off track a bit
That last part...didnt quite fit
But im just obsessing
Seriously not messing
I want you so bad
It makes me so mad
I want you and all of you
Im not queit sure what to do
From there
But i dont care.
My one and only demand
I just want to hold your hand

I was the two lumps of
                     sugar

in her morning coffee,
    her lips moist..

Yet afterwards she
             was always tired.

                        Go figure.

summer, spring, winter, fall,
it always carried a whiff of cleanliness, like lysol,
bleach and daffodils had made a not so secret love
child.
there were never any marks. no signs of mistakes,
accidents, humanity.
the floors glistened like the sun beaming off a black
convertible.
the windows, you couldn’t even tell they were
windows. not without the panes.
transparent like the shores of the Mediterranean.
I never touched anything.
I held my breath among glass, ornaments, picture frames.
afraid one intake would show up like a smudge that could
never be wiped off, no matter how much one tried.
she fits the house. like those china dolls, polished to perfection.
blonde hair rolled in unison curls. no frizz. never any
fly aways.
face just like those windows, eyes raging in a storm too far away.


his room was the only one i could sink in.
legos scattered
(i always stepped on the yellow ones)
clothes fuming with dirt and almost manhood.
his posters crooked, carrying characters dressed in
armor, or tuxedos, animated, weapons in hand.
his bed, never made, incasing the last impression of his body
(he always slept on his side)
a spot of drool still visible, blankets holding his scent.
soap, laundry detergent and oranges.
game controllers trashed, bite marks, dents, too many battles.
i finally breathed when i walked in.

Our love is like a bubble bath
I needed you to wash me clean
But now our love is going down the drain
I watch as it swirls around and around until its gone
Wrapped in a towel
I watch whats left of us seep away
With tears in my eyes
I try to save us
To save anything left over

I look up and wear my best smile.
I say cheese just for
an added effect
plus a free cute little chuckle
they will surely buy into it now!
Falling into the trap that
I am ok
Even though
I'm not

I used to be able to go places
not caring about appearance.
But others stared.
I was the weird kid who didn't
smile
laugh
frown
or cry.
Apparently if I don't look the part
I become an outcast.
People tried to guess my problems

     Maybe she needs counseling.
     Have u considered ADHD?
     Is she depressed?


They wouldn't stop.
The questions surrounded me
I would lie awake wondering
"What are the theories they made today?"
I couldn't take it anymore.


I
Put
The
Mask
Back
On

I hated it but there were
too many questions;
my reasons became
less and less
believable,
and
more and more
suspicious.

I aways wear the mask now.
Can't forget to smile!
Say cheese!
Oh and laugh at that,
I imagine it was a joke.
Take that smile off now,
they might be saying something serious.
Wrinkle your forehead,
As if you are confused.
Because that's what normal people do.
I think.
And no matter what, don't take the mask off again.
Because they will know
this time
that it was all
just an act,
right from the start.

You grew up so fast little angel
You used to be so small, with your blue eyes and annoying laugh
And now the fights have turned into something else

We both grew up
But you with your curly golden hair that looks so funny when it gets too long
aways puts a smile on my face
You grew up faster than I did

Promise that you wont leave me
Even though I get mad at you sometimes
Because I would never leave you

My little angel
I would walk through the ends of the earth for you
I know you would do the same for me
You grew up my little angel

You turned into something so beautiful
Something that would make anyone proud
Listen carefully now because little angel
That is what I am
I am proud of you
I hope you know that

Even though we hate each other sometimes
I will always be your sister
And you will always be my brother
I will always love you

Let's run back to the
Very start,
Let's pretend that we never
Broke each other's hearts.

In place of white,
I dress in black.
All those letters to Santa
Take on a whole new meaning.
In place of bikes and robots,
The tree is filled with hearts and prayers.
All those cookies and glasses of milk
Take on a whole new legacy.
In place of a Santa Hat,
I dress in blood red.
All those Family Christmas Cards
Take on a whole new importance.
In place of soggy socks,
I wear my bare feet.
All those stockings
Take on a whole new significance.

My debt-ridden past,
More than I asked.

The transactional present
Less pleasure, more torment.

An easy-payments future
More payments not fewer.

So many give-aways
At a price I can never pay.

It's new-consumerism
With the soft bite of fascism.
And I'm badly infected now.

have you ever wanted something so bad you'd give up everything just to have it?
a few years back, all i wanted was to be so ******* happy. i would've given up everything and everyone for that state of everlasting euphoria. two years after, the world has knocked some sense into me, and i realised you can never really be that happy, at least not all the time. so instead of aiming to be unrealistically happy, i wanted to feel something, anything would do. you see, when all you feel is extreme sadness, all you'd want to feel is extreme happiness. but when all you feel is nothing. when you're hollow, when you're so empty you can't feel yourself exist, all you'd want is to feel. all you'd want is to exist. to know what complete feels like, to know what feelings feel like. at the age of thirteen, this is all i've really wanted, but i knew that just because you want something doesn't mean you'll get it. (life's no wish granting factory.) (there are no fairy god mothers, unfortunately.) (you've got no one but yourself, i think.) (now, here's where you come into the picture stutter portrait stutter masterpiece, stutter reality.) so far long, i haven't met anyone with the potential to be considered a real friend. i mean, for the most part of my existence, my friends were picked out for me. none of them knew how to stay, not with someone like me, and i didn't know how to stay either. you weren't like all those other friends, you weren't someone, someone else has picked out for me, i wanted you as bad as i wanted to feel something and i think you were the only person i couldn't imagine myself giving up to that. you were the only person that i felt like holding on to. felt..? with you, empty is a foreign word to me. you are fulfillment in it's only form. you are what makes me, and you're the only one i'd allow to break me. (although you never do.) you are the only one i feel like giving every part of myself to, take all of me. don't give any back. i don't need any back because i feel you existing within me -in my thoughts- the only place i spend so much time zoning off in because it's the only place i get to completely have you. there's a thin to thick line between love and need and it's deadly (when it's both at once) but i've only ever felt alive with you. and even god is a witness to all the love I have for you and my inability to let go is enough proof to how much i need you. i need you in many ways other than needing you to be mine, in fact i don't think you can ever be of anyone's possession. i don't think you can belong to anyone entirely, because you are the universe and you are what keeps everyone going even when you can't keep going yourself. please, always keep going or else everything will die away with you. you're not everything a person should be but you're all i ever wanted in a person and i know you're not perfect but your mistakes don't define you either. don't let anything define you, because you're much too much to fit under words. i love that you're guarded, and you don't let many people in, but baby, i swear you're loved x100. you are wanted. (i'll aways be the one to want you most though.) i love trying to understand you. i love you for everything you are and everything you could ever become and i'll love you for now and years to come. so for this year, all i really want is you. you to be okay. i guess i finally found my euphoria and maybe you do end up getting what you want.

Fawaz   Poems  
Published 7   Drafts 3

DRAFT EDIT
Fawaz 3m
Untitled
Justice in the cage of injustice

I saw the justice being robbed and **** in the broad day light ,
I touched Justice in the Nature but in the societies I didn't really touch it,
where is the justice? there are no justice in this country but not in the world,
even if we see it the question is did the justice see us?no, They have covered it face.

they made some people rich and made some poor ,They say they saw
Then they go and lie ,
They put the innocent people in the prison,
for a crime they committed not,
They let the guilty get away
And make the innocent people rot aways
is this the justice we are clamoring for


they made injustice anywhere to threat justice everywhere ,they made law below some and made the same law above some ,Justice must be for all ,not just for the criminals
and the riches.

The justice is the only purest shape of the voice,
Justice with no partial is what we, the innocent people, long for,
justice is for all not for some
but if there still no change,
I think a time is coming when the children of injustice will not show how educated they are nor how tolerant  ,
they will come out with guns ,they will come out with cutlasses  and **** the justice by themselves and the atmosphere will never be control again , give us the justice not the Caprice.

The fragrance pen

The fragrance pen

Still alive
But barely breathing
I searched but didnt find a meaning
My persistent heart wont stop its beating
I get high instead of sleeping
Finding veins to shoot some speed in
Countless hours ive spent tweaking
Im Just a ****** and a fiend
Playing victim
To a cycle so vicious
Hard to admit im the one who chose and picked this
Im on my own hit list
My lifes the perfect nightmare thats ever been scripted
my Memories play out in tragedies
Remembering saddens me
Ive been more stressed than any kid should ever be
And yet i never let them see
The Years spent living in denial
I want to cry but fake a smile
Something i learned as a child
They wont hurt me if i never let them in
I never learned how to get vulnerable
I just held it all in
Bottled up feelings
Never once expressing
How it feels inside my head
All alone no one knows me
Ive aways been a phony
Force feeding myself so im not too noticeably boney
I Cant cope unless im high
Needle full of dope until i die
My wills too weak to be freed
What was a want has now become a need
Im getting Paranoid as my track marks are getting harder to hide
My Blood thickens as it dries

"If I was a bird, I'd be an owl."
If I was a bird, I'd be a-
"Don't say pigeon! I hate pigeons."
Pigeons? What is so horrid about them?
I thought and feared for my potential existence.
What if I was a pigeon?
What if my feathers were grey?
What if my belly was fat with breadcrumbs
and street scrap?
What if low coos did escape my throat
in efforts to keep warm and draw love?
What if children did push me to fly away?
What if I did choose to sit on trees,
and **** on statues of prominent people.
If I was a bird I'd be a warbler- no, a worrier.
One that plucks its feathers,
be it grey or rainbow-colored.
One that grows weak when flying in the cold,
but makes it south, all in all.
One that doesn't have a beautiful singing voice,
but chirps aways all in its lonesome.
If I was a bird, I'd peck at windows,
only to fly away
when someone comes to open it.
Because I know when I'm not welcome.

Some people lead halcyon lives
They tend to speak with soft, quiet voices
And enjoy watching clouds go by in the skies
They desire making small, inconsequential choices
They watch the world whirl around then with awe-filled eyes

Others are the polar opposite,
Living their lives with temerity.
They prefer to never rest and sit.
They carry out decisions boldly
Their mentalities are filled with sass,
Causing other personalities to clash.

The fortunate ones have tutelage,
Knowing how to act civilized and polite.
But being able to justify the savage
They have sense to avoid a fight

But I, I am what they call a mess,
Unlike the peaceful ones, or those with boldness
The way I think is seen as madness
My opinion is not one that I scream,
I'm just avoiding the scene
I'm merely an anathema,
With a queer persona
I see what others do not,
That's the only difference I've got.
For I am philistine,
Shunned by the others, it seems.

He hurriedly glanced at his wristwatch again,
The shadow of the cross from the steeple
Landing in the middle of the watch.
A sigh echoed through the church courtyard,
And a few rats scurried out of their hide-aways.
They should be here by now.
The moon hung in the sky,
Trying and failing to shed light on what was below.
The harsh noise of a truck on gravel reached his ears,
And he breathed a sigh of relief.
The newcomer parked the truck and lumbered out,
Holding several filthy beer bottles in his large, grimy hands.
“Here you go.”
His voice was gruff, calloused even, as if it was being
Grated like cheese.
Money from the priest’s hands went into the driver’s hands,
And when the priest looked into his eyes,
They spoke legends of ******.
The truck drove away, and
Pretty soon the courtyard was silent again,
Except for the hoot of an owl,
The contented sigh of the priest, and the
Pop of a beer bottle being opened.

To tell the story of the nice-guy
is to tell a tale of unlost innocence.  

There is no complexity that circumstance can’t remedy.  There is no effort
to niceness; only a ****** world that blossoms
on genetically mutated ideology, growing larger than generations past.

Tomorrow, in Houston,

a butcher will wake up to slaughter a cow he may have named.  

There will no be no tears when he grills steak for the wife he wooed
and the children he prescribed himself.  

Three daughters,
from fifteen to twenty-two.  

Tiramisu for dessert.  

Ten guns in the cabinet beneath the stairs
and innocence buried behind the woodshed.

Pretend now, that you are forgiven.  

Mistakes fade like snow angels, regrets
float like chemtrails.

You love you as much as the world always did.  

You have not seen friends struck down by powders or lunacy,
you have only lived in the glow of their light.  Hearts remain full.  

The word swagger hasn’t been hijacked by hip hop
and bluejeans still mask imperfections.  Sunsets are memorable,

and so are first dates and last kisses.  

Sun won't blister fragile shoulders.  

Fields blossom just in time to suit your irregular taste buds,
satisfying sweet corn cravings on Christmas.

Forget your father’s words
or a stranger's hand.  

Forget improbability, impossibility,
impotence, importance,
impatience
and improper goodbyes.  

Forget the tears cried alone
into ***** filled sheets at midnight.  

Forget the effect but remember the cause,
camouflaged like a landmine of good ideas.  

Forget the fights and slow-turn walk-aways
that turned words flaccid.  

Forget friends ******* ex-girl friends
and amphetamines crashing into hallucinations.  

Nice-guys vanish like good ideas,
lost in the shuffle,
looking for pen and paper,

just like house cats die
on the forth of July,

and all that’s left are ashes
on a mantel
alongside fraudulent grins.

There's woods outside of town aways
that I will not go near
There's tales of ghosts and monsters
And I don't like the things I hear

There's screeching noises unlike those
Any animal can make
Even in the daylight
Those woods just make me shake

I've heard tales of people who
Let their dogs out after dark
They come back, all scared and skittered
And they never ever bark

There's something in those woods I say
Strong magic is around
There's tales of children disappearing
Never to be found

Three years ago I walked on past
And I heard a noise....real close
I swore something was watching me
It may have been a ghost

On Halloween, the woods light up
With magic from within
No one dares to venture there
They'll not be seen again

Some nights when the moon is full
The noises fill the air
Of screeching, howling wild beasts
Of things covered in hair

I've only seen one bird around
The entrance to the wood
It's a single, lonely raven
And to me that isn't good

Raccoons, and skunks and squirrels
I never see them near this place
It's inhabited by demons
It's never known god's grace

The stories aren't the sort that
Make you want to see
What is in the woods that howls
I won't go in ...not me

The woods have always been there
And the stories have been too
I know the sounds scare me to death
And I'm sure, they'd scare you too

Don't venture near the woods at night
Don't go there in the day
Just leave them to their darkness
It's just best to stay away

The engine's warm now that we're finally off all the main streets,
and sitting in the polished seats of our smooth white metal stallion
we strolled down the slickened scenic highway, silhouetted by the sun beams turned silver
bouncing off the cold bold face of a spherical moon.
The radio licks its numbered teeth back and forth with its spike red tongue
as the knobs are turned to tune and turn up high to hear,
those greats croon
"don't worry babe, we'll be there soon".
My foot falls heavy like a rejected lover when we hit the strait aways
and the wind cant move my whop slick hair on this bright night
can't move it for a **** thing
even with the top down and the whole world spinning against us.
I race to stay within the nights dark complexion
watching out for the only man who can slow me down
pink faced clown lookin to shout "bookim"
"Bookim danno".
My hands wrap white knuckled around the steering wheel
and I chuckle at the frightened look that begins to build up in your gorgeous hazel eyes
when adrenaline filled i swing wide left
to pass the only other car
on this rickety two lane highway.
Back on our side of those magical golden lines
I reach over to settle your shaking thighs
and you grab my arm like it alone could save you.
I picture us
hydroplaning off into a deadly roll through that golden field of wheat
the last thing I would smell would be dirt, dew, fresh spring ground
I smile at the thought
whatever makes you feel better I say
and so you squeeze tighter.
I slip my hand down and off your leg,
up onto the dash
to find and twist the radio ****, blasting out that sweet silky serenade of sleep walking.
I look over and blow a kiss,
but the wind ***** it out the back before it ever reaches your loving lips
and with eyes back on the road I keep on till morning.
Till I can stop with you at sunrise,
and we can rest
and hold hands
and share lips
and tell empty promises, as day breaks on the horizon
and light floods over us
in this stolen drop top caddilac.

You who have never known the loveliness of love,
Gather your heads on the torn pillow’s edge of mud,
Under the wood-tar shadows of camphor-aided sleep,  
Where your low-flung groans are starvations of sound,
And the amputated clouds, insinuated with gangrene
And blood-stained woods, are still bound to the shooting
Stars that fell beside you and flung up hissing rays of grass.

Parents of the midnight sky, the stolen stars of your children
Open their broken mouths to the battlefield heart of trespass.
To their soldiers’ eyes, the floor of heaven is uncut grass,
Wet with rain and mold and the unlifted wings of Pegasus,
Whose unearthly hoof to unearthly earth scuffs the clod
Of the lunette for the cannons to divulge the great, stuttering
Coda of everything old, malformed of breath and bone.  

Some grass somewhere will now seem the hair of a sweetheart,
And those dead eyes will aways stare, too fond of love unknown.
So the dead soldier and grass and sky conspire to hold a woman,
So the soldier makes the truce between earth and sky,
Between man and the divine, though the chestnut trees    
In red human tongues, pay their deep-forested encomium to distance,
In misspilled gorgeousness like Apollo surveying his own tomb.

well, wasn't it so oh so beautiful
once upon a time:
a naked man holding a fruit -
fast-forward....
            a monkey holding a rat:
hmm...
      enter Elvis: ahum ahum hum:
shimmies aways...
if genesis was to be rewritten again
it would be a monkey holding a rat
thinking about a tailor and a barber
with a schizoid format of interpretation
of an octopus!
  said whaaaaaaaa-t?
said that.
   maze needs no rat,
         rat needs no maze,
man needs both rat and maze -
but man doesn't need
      rat, when he's already
acquired a need for a maze...
    and there's the: a need
to acquire a maze and disavow
a rat...
                  the human "concept"
of a soul: or animation force -
has become degenerate from
monkey through to rat...
             if the ancient Adam was
naked holding a bitten-into apple;
modern "man" is
but a monkey holding a rat.
   i'm far from casting the logic of
counting or spelling...
even though i can do both...
   that man needs a maze
but not the rat...
     in reality: the rat is not welcome...
but to conduct a proof /
  pirson of meaning there is a rat:
in a maze...
               so Tetris is debunked...
and?
               the monkey has evolved
and thus devolved to a rat status!
no... wrong...
                  technology supports
the antithesis...
             the rat is the proof
that a monkey is in a cage, and can peel
a banana!
       ****, wrong answer:
the rat can bite off its own snout!
                            ¡ay, caramba!
wrong again?
                can anyone be right using
this ******* spreschen?!

Some love to see bare knuckle fights
Pro football has its fans
Lifting weights is fun for those
Who’d be a muscle man
Racing’s good for Earnheart
Who likes to come in first
Some men like to push a pen
And go from bed to verse

I’LL HAVE TO SAY THAT LOVE’S MY PICK
A GENTLE ONE; NO BROKEN BONES
WHEN NIGHT UNFURLS IT’S PLAYED WITH GIRLS
RED LIPSTICK AND COLOGNE
LIGHT A CANDLE; YOU’LL FIND THE HANDLE
AND GET THE HANG OF IT
I ADORE YOUNG MISSES, HUGS AND KISSES
THAT’S WHY LOVE’S MY PICK

You may have little fusses
Cause girls are complicated
But that’s part of the charm...
The making ups the greatest
There needs to be some peace on earth
So try this game for lovers
It’s a sport as old as time
Designed to  beat all others

CHORUS

Bridge:
It'll aways be top seed for winter games
n' summer beaches bare some pretty frames
You can fill your address book with pretty names....  

CHORUS

If morning was
too brief to trim
those pine tree prickles
off of your lower limbs, it's okay.
Step 1: ***** hose.

After a mirror's
glance, you will be tempted to panic.
Step 2: Stay calm. Peel
the dead animal
off the side of your cheek.
Let the hairbrush
paste the fly-aways
into a hot, greased bun.

How easy it is
to experience a wardrobe malfunction.
Remember to keep it simple.
Step 3: Slip on
that black pencil skirt,
the polyester one--not
the leather.

No one needs to know
that you were up late
watching sitcom reruns. Remove
the screaming purple rings.
Step 4: make-up. Base
is your friend.

You are now prepared.
Smear on
your finest ruby red
lips, and tuck in
your leopard-print
bra strap.
Step 5: Strut your
stuff. Retail has never seen
such class.