"boi" poems
Even if I get hate messages saying imma dumb geek,
My favorite thing to do in Rainbow 6 is spawn peek.
I choose not to reinforce any freakin' walls,
Cause I'm the best on my team and pre-fire the halls.
They call me sweaty boi cause all I play is Ela,
But hey man I got news for ya--you're a noob lil' fella.
If ya boi be attackin', ya know I be using ash,
No one can hit me when I use that 3 speed dash.
I breach the wall and throw some stuns,
I run on in and fire my guns.
At the end of every round I end up with an ace,
My stats have basically broke the R6 database.
So yeah you can just call me wuhbzz, or just god for short,
Cause I'm the best you'll ever see, T don't need any retorts B)
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 8:42 AM UTC
the magnolia was a bit of a *******
(as far as trees can be ********
and like very many other things—
like japanese candy from the Fugi Mart in Greenwich
(across from the McDonald’s and next to
the music shop where I got my viola)
and like pokemon cards and nintendo gaming systems
and like Avril Lavigne’s “Sk8er Boi” on a pink CD in a Hello Kitty radio
—that ******* of a magnolia was a distinctive taste
of the years I spent growing up in my house at the end of Wyndover Lane.
the ******* thing was almost perpetually in bloom.
it barged into both spring and autumn
(it didn’t give a **** about timing)
those pink and white spongy petals padding the ground
and at first you think it’s ******* beautiful
sitting in the crook of the trunk where it split into
two large
separate branches
tilting your chin back to catch a glimpse of blue between fat blossoms
then the petals start rotting
water-retentive little *******
and you can’t sweep ‘em away because they stick to the patio
brown clumps slipping under rubber soles
my dad lets loose a string of curses
and the magnolia shakes with laughter
I tried pressing the petals in a notebook once
while I was in that naturalist phase it seems all little girls go through
when you make fairy houses out of bark in the backyard
and put flowers between the pages of books because it feels
oh-so-much-more significant
than picking a pretty thing and showing it to mom
but the magnolia seeped through my spiral ring
and when I opened it up a month later they were dry tan papery things
not at all velveteen and rosy
and there were garish pink bloodstains all through the ten pages
on either side
magnolias don’t preserve well
except, honestly they do don’t they
then of course there’s that childhood tragedy that everyone has
when your dog got hit by some soccer mom’s suburban
or your teddy bear was lost in an airport
or maybe you just liked to cry because some things
were just really worth the tears at the time
but when I came home and found out they cut down my ******* ******* of a magnolia
I bawled
there wasn’t
even
a
stump.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 4:48 PM UTC
Gurl stops meking out
n asked boi to get potartz
he dus
den gurl teks deep breff
and gurl sais
bf
I am pregnent
will u stay ma bf
n he seys
"NO"
gurl iz hertbrokn
gurl cried n runz awaii from boi wiffout eatin poptart
n she has low blood suga
so she fols
boi runs ova 2 her
She Ded
boi crie
I sed I no be ur bf
cuz i wona b ur husband!
he screems
n frows poptart @ wol
a bootiful diomand ring wus insyd
LIK DIS IF U CRY EVERTIM!!!!
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 6:57 PM UTC
Baa, baa, Green sheep,
Have you any kush?
Yeh, mon, yeh, mon,
Three bongs full;
One hit for ma tyke,
And one for ma ****
And one for the batti boi
Who lives by caribe.
Baa, baa, Green sheep,
Have you any ******
nah, mon, nah, mon,
no spliffs mon;
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
It drives me insane when people see me holding a girls hand and ask
“So who’s the guy? You know, who wears the pants?”
I want to scream and say WE ARE LESBIANS. Firstly, neither of us are ever wearing any pants. I want to scream and say WE ARE LESBIANS, and i’m angry because lesbian does not always have to mean woman but where did you get man from? I’m angry because maybe sometimes one of us does identify as a guy. A gay boi with an I. A soft boy. A proud hairy legged 5”4 boy. A drinking pints in the pub with my dad and us both liking that same woman’s tattoo boy. A cries every day boy. A feels cool when drinking beer boy. A boy that had to teach themself to like beer boy. A boy who sometimes does not feel like a boy. A boy. A boy. Oh boy. Boys. You see, this question is confusing for me because when I was fourteen, my boyfriend and I would joke that I was the one wearing the pants, even though at that point I was very much still wearing skirts and hiding behind butt-length hair and also watching the L Word in secret when I got home from school but that’s besides the point. This question is obviously as confusing for you as it is for me because in your mind you see two pairs of **** holding hands on the tube and think: Lesbians. Now, which one’s the man? And I think to myself, there are two ways to answer this: Number 1: So I know lesbian is supposed to mean woman on woman, two vaginas, ********** strap-ons, veganism, art degrees (and a lot of this is true but let’s not stereotype). So I know that to you, although we appear to be two women, two snap-back wearing, sports-bra bearing- I mean I thought about writing ***** tearing here but it just doesn’t seem appropriate- women, the funny thing is that erm, you see, gender and sexuality: as different as my dad to my mum’s other ex-husband. We are not a man and a woman. We are two people and what do pants have to do with it? We are two people and why does one of us always have to be a man? We are two people and the awkward part of the point i’m making is that sometimes I don’t feel like a woman but you wouldn’t know that so let me say: we are not a man and a woman. We did not ask for your confrontation, we are not your designated driver, your answer sheet to an exam you haven’t sat yet, your house party when your parents go away, your girlfriend that you think is obliged to **** your **** even though you will not go anywhere near her **** You are not our three year old son who asks too many inappropriate questions. To you, we are strangers and to answer your question, you seem to think that you’re wearing the pants here. So wear them. By the way, Number 2: **** off.
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 12:13 PM UTC
Moist
Boist
Loist
Mad chat
Shriveled cat
In a bank
Being dank
Staying moist with meh boi
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
*"So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."*
Shall I compare thee...
...to the Iguazú Falls River, where legend serves that a serpent; Boi, demanded a sacrifice each year of a young female, and the day two lovers; Tarobá and his beautiful maid Naipí, took to escape, and in revenge of such an act, Boi exuded such anger that he parted the river, thus forming the Iguazú Falls, splitting the river and condemning to two lovers to the falls.
or
...to Cristo Redentor; Christ the Redeemer, the Art Deco statue, protecting and looking over the city of Rio de Janeiro, to whom in all its glory cannot escape the force of nature, struck by lightning, causing damage irreplaceable.
or
…to The Hanging Gardens of Babylon, hundreds of metres into the sky, a place that to this day is unknown, myth being that King Nebuchadnezzar recreated the homeland of his precious wife Amyitis, who was deeply depressed and homesick, allowing her to find comfort and happiness.
or
…the Taj Mahal, of Pradesh, constructed using marble by the emperor Shah Jahan, in loving memory of his third wife; Mumtaz Mahal, the jewel of Muslim art, a calligraphy written Great Gate reading; "O Soul, thou art at rest. Return to the Lord at peace with Him, and He at peace with you.
or
…the Temple of Artemis; Istambul, on sacred land in honour of the Greek goddess Artemis, the most apotheosized of Greek deities, the supposed daughter of Zeus and Leto, the temple also known as Diana, one of the goddesses who vouched never to marry; alongside Minerva and Vesta.
or
… the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, of the Persian Empire, whereby Mausolus ornamented four sculptures created in relief for his wife (and also his sister); Artemisia II of Caria, generating an above ground tomb that would become to be listed as one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.
But of all,
I compare thee to the Goddess of Love, Beauty and Sexuality; Aphrodite
arising from the sea, floating ashore on a shell;
Venus rising from the sea,
a lover of many,
later depicted as a painting of the Birth of Venus,
by the sufferer of unrequited love; Botticelli,
using his muse Simonetta Vespucci as a model.
© Sia Jane
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
She ain't never **** a black boi but she use the word *****
And Her blk home girls give her the encouragement to pull that trigger
Born in the hills but addicted to the hood
I'm her curse and blessing man this ***** is always up to no good
Blue eye devil who love the dark skin
She said she never had it so deep when a ***** went in
She drive listen to legends biggie hov and Rudeboi
She told me she was looking for her pleaser stick so I just nibble her like a chew toi
Snap backs and Jordan's She's a ***** for retail
She got that white girl syndrome but cursed by the black details
Hello to the west end she went and add her best friend
Slave to the lifestyle but she know she will never fit in
Banded by color but my girl went ratchet
When she Confirm the fair-tale of food stamps and welfare Status
Racist antics but she defer the approach
Cuz her white friends can't understand what her blk friends don't
Family of mix feelings her dad told her no
Mama said be your self and get to know the unknown
I give her the face of a sign that saids do not enter
Becuz what you think you wanna no is better if you won't remember
But in the false claim we built into better bitter lovers
So lesson is always learn never judge a book by its cover
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 1:10 AM UTC
Cover this body with layers upon layers,
Each one hiding the secrets I don't want
To tell. They yell my *** Scream it out
Shout it and others follow suit.
Four letter words may make violence but
S-H-E causes earthquakes inside me.
My curves curse me to wear my **
Chromosomes like neon paint
Warning sign: This person was born
Female. Born into an imaginary category,
Forced to conform. My mind
Is at war with the mirror eyes staring back
Those little details sticking out
Highlight them, cutandpaste to another
Body.
Maybe this bandage will keep me safe from
The gender police maybe people will be
Confused and not ask Maybe they will ask
For once and not assume.
Maybe I'll lose enough oxygen that it won't
Matter.
Matter is all I am, atoms twisted together in
Disarray and how can you call that Anything but what it is.
I defy this binary, refuse to walk the
PinkorBlue tightrope.
Let me fall and land in purple.
Let me live in the inbetween.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
Iym onna mishon forra gerl
krossing China jus to si her
ona slo chrayn going west
krossing mouwntins in my kot.
Shis onna mishon for tha boi
fly eirchina for to si mi
bundling legings inna bag
wot to bring and wot to not
bring your person bring your boots
spanix boots and spanix wyn
put your bodi in this plays
taiwan boox and qinese wyn
i wil sit heer lyk an ox
wayting unda shaydi tri
wayting hyuman wil tu find me
pat my **** and skweez my ni
qyneez wyn
qyneez wyn
wyn in qyneez
qyneez wyn
pump my rat and wyn qyneez
shaydi tri with pengyou lao
thingking hyuman tu gud tu mi
wy *** look for stinki kao
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 8:47 PM UTC
Floodlights.
They’re ghosts right?
From our memories,
Have been seized, we
From the perfect dream?
Drip drop drip drop
Turning tricks, dropped the jack
***** when you coming back?
It’s off it’s off
Seldom silence serves as sight’s severance.
**** chop **** chop OW!
******* pistol clock
Whip glock whipping ****
How many names can you think of for a knockoff
Of soda pop?
I’m sorry sir you’ve got the wrong Ryan,
I haven’t starred in any movies that cryin’
Old seniles, and sensitive females, so honestly claim
Was the way life should have been for them.
Oh in that case I’ll show you the brain,
Then kick you in the *** for being so gay.
Hold on there, wrong Ryan.
I ain’t waiting tables, or banefully fryin’
Up **** that I spit in for women with tips worth less
Than my two cents.
Oh I apologize, celebrity lookalike.
Must be the weather or the windshield is cracked
Or the antennae are bent or the cables are jacked
But I can’t seem to figure out just who you are
When I’m watching the TV pimped into my car,
Let’s try a few shall we
Not a cook…Not a lover boi…Silence of the…Birds, if you’re a bird I’m a…Bat…Batman! Batman and Robin! Red Robin! No not a waiter…
Red hearse, Fred Durst, Paris Hilton, Ryan Milton
Wrong Ryan, Wrong Ryan!
Oh my god, silly me
I seem to have gone on a tangent you see.
Tandem bicycles, all of them for free.
If you would only come visit. Agreed?
Of course I know that you’re THE Ryan B.
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 9:04 PM UTC
In a lavatory a pink transvestite
Applies ruby and rouge
To my cosmetic mask
Hoping for a wished encounter
A fiction overcomes us
Conveys us as strangers
Into an unknown territory
Leaves us there
The two of us, stranded
Our location inaccessible
As intuitive yet unpredictable
Thoughts cluster
In constellated
Images around
The rehearsed persona
Of myself
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
Okay
Tell me I'm cute
Tell me I'm adorable
aww, what cute bows you have in your hair!
You like having your dominance in public.
That's fine.
But let's see who's cute and adorable when I haul you over my lap and spank your ***
Still cute?
Yeah
I didn't think so, little boi.
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 1:36 AM UTC
The screech-owl in the wasted tree,
Who blights the branch and smites the leaves,
She wails that she was once like you and me!
Hey Lamia, hey love of mine,
Whose banshee moaning boils the night,
I won’t listen, for I know that Lilith lies!
Oh, naked beasts, oh variegated lives!
Whose ribs You cracked,
Whose love You lacked,
For whom You cast two wives!
Oh, hungry man, that bites his keeper’s hand!
You mixed his tears,
Instilled his fears,
And taught him “Lilith lies.”
I fled before you were brought forth
And spread, you race of sons of ******
Oh children, you are mine, and I am yours!
Un-furred, un-feathered, and dull-toothed,
How the Almighty forsook you!
So sick and weak, you all can barely move!
Oh, teeth and bones, Oh heaven-wide applause!
Come Oneiroi,
Support ‘tcha boi,
The ape without no claws!
Oh, sticks and stones, oh desperation’s knives!
Come Seraphim,
Sing us a hymn,
Remind us Lilith lies!
“She lies, she lies,” you cry “she lies,”
But I have wings, and claws, and eyes
That pierce the dark, and to all schemes I’m wise!
Yes, I obtained these claws of gold
That keep me safe and fed and whole!
You can’t condemn what hasn’t got a soul!
Oh, life from mud, oh mare who bucked the stud!
Who sits on beds,
Perched at the heads
To drink the dreaming’s blood!
Oh, owl’s eyes, oh man’s dread realized!
Come talk at length,
And show your strength,
And show us how you lie!
Jan 30, 2020
Jan 30, 2020 at 3:06 PM UTC
Thinking back to Thomas creek and sneaking a peak at the freaky little tweaker
in blown out sneakers a toothless mistress second guessing ******
thrift dressed house guest ******* up my speakers blown out woofer
wolfing down dinner mad slurping curry a beginner at twister
her sister, disaster, got caught ******* the Doberman.. unable to find sobriety
got gang ***** at the sorority doing an impression of Brad Dougherty
shoes to tall falling all wobbly knees knocking hostilely like a rasta in Montgomery
racially outcast Big Boi with a skin tare lash with passion unfashionable bastions
with rashes wear red sashes like Communist fascists I‘m a pacifist with a speeding fist
ready to dis any resistor to this transistor radio I eat filet-minion with boxers on
my mind be gone, like, no one’s home and this body roams all alone
with a ***** I’m a stoner, a postponer, ***** donor, out on loan
bought and paid for, caught with a lawnmower, impersonating a horn blower
like I was Gillespie at the Filmore, or Apollo theatre as a greater Walmart style
wearing a wife beater, not a reader, sort of a ******* not like Kim, more like
a mosquit-er drinking blood like it’s from a hummingbird feeder.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 6:03 PM UTC
With all these girls I'm looking for something but I don't know what it is.....
Maybe just maybe it's a love from a Woman I use to get when I was a kid....
My mother was there but she was always to busy
So my sister stood up and took the job show me the love she couldn't give me....
But when it was me and her our world was always perfect
I was a bad *** kid but mamas baby Boi and I deserved it....
But things change when we move south and I just got older..
More attitude more arguments and more verbal disagreement....
I hate you you was the reason why my sister wasn't here...
And step father after step father you been threw broke your heart and it wasn't fair....
But my brother did his part in shown me how to be a man...
And you were away more now more then we both ever plan...
But you hated that he did so cuz I grow up way to fast
And To quickly for you to ever stop me.... (No)
Now ******* calling the house wondering if I can come out
You smile and think it's cute your baby boy got girls falling like parachutes ......
Here I go with all the girls I'v been threw my heart broken is setting in
And one time you try to comfort me but I just would let you in....
It felt awkward for you to even try and touch my skin
And then I thought to myself I just commit gods greatest an biggest sin......
Honor thy parents but where have our love gone I think we left it in Brooklyn
What happen to gift on the weekdays and party's every weekends....
Now you have Gotten older and my emotions more colder
But some where way deep down I'm still your son
But your going to have to reteach me love cuz you haven't see what you have done.......
Look what you've done
Look what you've done !!
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 4:53 AM UTC
Your lips taste like regret,
& stale cigarettes
Nevertheless;
You make me fly through space
right up in
my rocketship
Its celestial,
so ponder this
Always stuck inside
your head and s h i t
While these memories,
they eat at me
four walls,
my only scenery
I drink just to not feel things
Or contemplate the dark and strange
Is this insanity?
Deranged, I'm glued to my seat
stuck on repeat
& lacking in mental clarity
Poor D i c k just lost his family;
Her heart, it hasn't skipped a beat
Its on her sleeve and honestly
I swear she'll be the death of me
I'll never show the pain that grows
but stow away these mental notes
til one day my mindscape's exposed,
& explodes
As my brains leak out my ears
most infinitely, no?
Yes I'm depresso I must confess oh
Double barrel shot in my espresso
Can't express though
I wear a mask so
You'll never know when I'm upset
Overlords, gimme simulation reset
Situations got me already
steady hot & heavy
Cos I be boiling in my skin
You see this boi is your kin
But a toy in the bin
For you to discard
When you find it most convenient
And I mean it;
Please disregard the "bars" I spit
I still think your aesthetic's lit
A succubus with fetishes
Of draining me, til nothings left
And after all the time I spent
Prolonging an inevitable end
I'll say the means were justified,
Even if it was really just pretend
I only hope its unreal
A living nightmare, u feel
Every waking moment, lonely
And you can't sleep at night
without choking
So button it
Just shut it b i t c h
I care not for the words unsaid
in a casket's where I made my bed
One foot in the grave
and I'm better off dead
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 2:48 PM UTC
oh snap.
guess who's back?
I'm one step closer to a heart attack.
these flashbacks drawn from a cutback, turned me into an insomniac,
twas only a matter of time until I had a cardiac
arrest me now, officer. I've done you all wrong.
'cause my heart lying in my breast no longer plays a loving song.
I'd love to play the rest, see who else would try and sing along,
but I best not cause more distress, I know where I belong.
this girl KC.
man, she's killing me.
thoughts grilling me, yeah they drilling me!
this thrilling feeling's chilling me to the core, like it's refilling a sea
that just won't quit. My anchor's heavy as ****
my head's split a bit, teeth grit cause I'm full of these images of misfits, and culprits
whose crimes I didn't know they could commit-
they're all me- I'll admit I don't have a permit to
park my *** in this waste of mass class.
just mind the sass, my ego's thick as thick glass, and I don't have the strength to be harassed (rn).
hold up
>>Boi
I don't got time for this.
I need help, man, tell me what to do, I'm ******
this story's this; I miss the abyss in which I could hiss at KC's every bish she brought home,
reminisce that shish in whish I could blissfully talk about french kissing her.
but now I got me a man.
but now she back I've got no game plan.
tell me can you show me again how life is more than her?
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 6:20 PM UTC
Bad Boi is a False Boi
With a smile you think you got it Good Boi
Bad Boi you need a Good Girl
However Bad Boi was never Her Boi
Bad Boi got a good good turned Bad Girl
But Bad Boi is a Leech Boi
Sinking his teeth into too Deep Boi
So Bad Girl can’t breath Alone Girl
However Bad Girl can do it on her Own Girl
Raise her Good Girl beauty into Bad Girl cash
Without looking back at Bad Boi short stash
Spending too much time feeding Bad Boi bags
Bad Girl had enough of that Bad Boi bad rags
Cry a long river Bad Boi
For this Bad Girl found herself her own Good Girl
With no tops they Bad Girls with good tips
Singing Bad Girls get wet n wild on bad boats
On top of other Bad Boi toys
While you Bad Boi can’t float
Feb 2, 2022
Feb 2, 2022 at 10:56 AM UTC
Who is I?
In the Now. I am of true boi essence.
A writer, a recluse, abandoned only of fate: Destiny ever alluring in the palm of my hand.
Limited only by my own inabilty to be present in only one consciousness.
I am split between reality strings.
A permeant spectre, caught betwixt parallel dimensions.
At times incoherrant, lost in esoteric translation.
I am physic(al) - I of breath + flesh, perception being my holster, corruption my armoury.
Intuitively, i am harmonious, sanctonious, welcoming of illuminations and the darker side of each unfettered moon.
Awareness sleeps by my side. Each waking minute guarded. of commonality.
I am enlightened.
I am bouyant.
mobile, fluid-like in kinesis.
Conventional existense being the foundation over which i fly.
Arms outstretched, willing risk to be my pull.
Enticing Love to be my drag.
balance, mediums, equilibrium.
Lifted high amidst winds roaring with possibility.
I am stark in naked complication, although often prone to cover up in cynical, self critical analysis.
I am given of self; being the taker a refreshing discourse to which i stray accordingly.
Of culture i am a liar.
By nature i tend towards honesty only straying when survivalistic path need tread.
I am of blood,
private yet optimistically open to scarring.
By custom i am trained, civil, content.
Of instinct; native raw tongue, i am rampant, rapid in force, compelled to grow then emerge.
Only.
To submerge
is to take full scope.
i am telescopic
in view of A/all else to which i drown my vision.
I am unsure if i am young,
Although certain that my passage is still being lit by the glow of its entrance, dark passageways luring with their shadows and cavernous corners.
I am liberal, random in speculatory silence. I am idle, often motivated by industrial desire.
Mechanical in process, structured of cerebreal architecture, yet somewhat discombobulated in particularity.
Sporadic be my strain, its think tank choking always on the weeds of sorrow.
Essentially i am nothing: yet overwhelmingly everything.
I was
I am
I will
therefore i
Exist
to i as
A/all and nothing.
As yesterday is to tommorrow, and visa versa, i am a window, a door, a channel:
as closed as i am open.
Dependant only on my own deliverence of influence and potential.
Driven by the promise of future and the demands of my past.
I am a vehicle in time, my presence, my motion, my journey
is I.
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 2:13 AM UTC
palavra à noite cantada
co'a manhã se desfaz
em palavra granulada:
matinal achocolatado.
Já não sente a poesia
tal qual ressoara clara
na madrugada alta
- Et pourtant, fala!
Será a escrita fogo fátuo?
marca gravada em gado,
ou cardo na sua pata?
(O poeta-boi rumina
mas não é vaca sagrada).
Estrela cadente, cabala:
meros fogos de artifício
ruidosos melros da fala:
na calma manhã se calam.
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 5:08 AM UTC
Why wear a crown and be asked
If you are a king or queen?
You can just be royal
Any place can be called home
It doesn’t have to be a house
It can be a person
A flower
Your school
A song
A poem
Or anything else
It doesn’t have to be a set in stone house
Or building
So,
For that,
I Am A Wooden Chair
I can be carried anywhere and still feel
As though I am at home
Why do people have to be judged by how they look?
It doesn’t matter if I have acne
If I have tattooed freckles
Or crooked teeth
It’s funny that the things that people call flaws,
I think are cute
Everything that is happening right now,
Doesn’t matter
In a hundred years,
Acne,
Tattooed freckles,
Or crooked teeth
Could be considered
Cute
So,
For that,
I Am A Lover Boy Mouth
I can look like anything I want
And still be cute
Find the David in the marble
Back when Michelangelo
Was carving David,
(WARNING! THIS IS ALL
FAKE, AND JUST A FIGMENT OF MY
IMAGINATION ACTING UP
AGAIN)
He sat at his little stool staring at marble
He said,
“My boi!!!
Yessssssss!”
And that’s how David was made…
Okay,
Okay,
I’m kidding,
But there’s one thing that I do know
When Michelangelo was creating David,
He actually had a block of marble
And saw the David in the marble
Before he even started carving
You can take that many different ways
With your life
With school
You can take that with whatever you want
So,
For that,
I Am A David In A Mask
The reason that there is a mask on David
Is because,
There is a poem by
Shel Silverstein
Called
“Masks”
It’s about two people who are blue
And
Are trying to find people like themselves
They pass right by each other and don’t even know
That they were both blue
Because they didn’t pay attention
And didn’t show who they were to the world
So
For that,
I Am A David Wearing A Mask
It’s crazy how life can be thrown at you
And
You get the wind knocked out of you
But your lungs burst for the taste of air
So you get up and keep walking like nothing ever happened
So,
For that,
I Am A Wrestling Mask
You look at someone with a crown on their head
And ask
“Are you a king or queen?”
But why can’t we just be?
Why can’t we just be ourselves?
Why can’t we just be royal?
Why does there have to be a gender involved?
So,
For reasons that I do not want to explain
For reasons that I do not want to get scolded for
I Am A Cactus
Wearing A Crown
There is no way to say that anything is perfect
There is no way to say that anything is not perfect
There is no way to say that you can’t be a Wooden Chair
A Lover Boy Mouth
A David In A Mask
A Wrestling Mask
Or even A Cactus Wearing A Crown
Just be yourself and you can always be any of these things…..
So,
With that saying…
I Am A Cactus
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 8:20 PM UTC
Every time we meet
I feel like I need disinfectant.
Every time we talk,
I feel like I need to talk to the father and ask for redemption.
Every time I see you,
I want to close them shut and never wake up.
You ****** me over too many times before.
You seem to think that you can move me like a *****
Well,
*I'm not your little **** boi*
You think you have such power,
***** you're nothing to me**
I wish I could find
this thing you made me lose inside.
I wish I could forget
there ever was an us
Because I like it much better
just being alone.
Away from you.
You are infected,
evil,
and a nervous wreck.
Someone needs to get you a life,
lord knows you can't do it on your own.
just talking about you makes me crave lysol.
Look,
I'm sorry to be bashing on you,
but this is necessary
in order to forget
everything you ever were
You call me a ******
but honey,
I've been called WAY worse.
I've been called your boyfriend.
And that beats any sting you can inflict.
You are the lowest of the low,
Im glad I was able to get away
cuz *****
I wouldn't wish you upon my greatest enemy.
I seriously need to see a shrink
after you.
You caused me so many problems.
I kept going back.
how could I be so dumb?
Answer
because you made me believe you loved me,
only to drop me like a sack of bricks
I have finally gotten over you.
But the disgust still lingers
I would shake your hand and say goodbye,
but then I'd need to buy more disinfectant
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 3:54 PM UTC
I ask my mama
Will a girl love me the way I loved her
Will I be underpaid for of my many favors
Will my intelligence make me a great debater
Will I understand the things I can't understand now later
She said baby boi
Your joy will come from a woman
Who knows each moment that you love her
And it's not the favors you should be paid for only the kind in your heart that make you a savor
And some people will see your intelligence in the form of a trader
But all the things you don't no now there's a plan for you to understand later
What's the honor in playing the victim
What's wrong with the world who's banded by the system
Am I the guy who is on the top when they list them
And what's a blessing if a curse gives you the same wisdom
Please don't be blinded
I'm not asking questions I'm just answering what's missing
Like a faithful man who don't wanna cheat in the room full of women
And knowing he should leave but feeling like he's being tested
He thinks if *** is not invested In me , then whys should I be effected by the three
My words are my tyrants
If I became a Titan will the gods claim me
Or will one god strike me down and try to blame me
For the many faiths that we try to make
And end up digging deeper in our hell hole where the flamed cook us like shake
Idk man Iv became soo numb numb numb
Understand its been over run by **** and *** *** ***
The many scratches on my wrist Iv number them by 8
And if ****** is what gets me then it would be my own case
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 12:59 AM UTC