"bullshitted" poems
Time's clock ticking, drops
infinity into the rust of bedside tables.
In Bed-Stuy, in D.C, dear Baltimore. And you too,
Ferguson.
East Coast warriors raise high heavy heads.
Break loose shackles, blushing muscles. Veins
of ancients pump through us.
Now we cry for peace. Resilience and time
*********** out from present pleasures. T.V screens.
Longing hours contemplating
forgotten dreams. Nightmares,
trickle blood out of nosebleed section patrons.
An operatic multitude of greed
and insanity. Corrupt millionaires
spit down on struggling, stuttering
lost and alone
actors, poets
the good politician.
The neighborhood bully weeps after swatting a fly,
and immortality feigns existence. Be here
now death, let them know the coming of peace,
spiraling black holes
of emotion and pride and dead boys.
Broken time continuous, and hearts.
9-11, 2001 rocked a nation,
what rocked you?
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
and this is part 3;
So I just quickly replied with a *********** "it's nothing I'll be alright" but he always knew something was wrong. Kyle's solution to all of 'our' problems was *** Rough, nasty, sweaty *** It would go on for 3 maybe 5 hours. Kyle really knew how to turn me on. I'm not so sure what Kyle considered our *** I considered it making love. But oh boy was it magic! I still remember the excitement I felt the first time he put it in me, I was as wet as a puddle and his **** just fit like a glove. He placed me in a series of positions but his personal favorites were doggy style and missionary. My favorite was cowgirl, I loved being on top of him and looking into those eyes. It wasn't just any look though, I always Kyle the "I love you so ******* much" eyes and then they would just roll to the back of my head and my mouth would open wide and I'd let out a very high pitched moan. Kyle absolutely loved to hit it from the back, something about seeing me on all fours really turned him on. It was like he was in control of me, I loved every second of it. But what I loved most about having *** with Kyle was how when I kissed his neck and behind his ears his breathing would slow down and he's close his eyes tight and his whole body would tense up, that's how I knew I had him right where I wanted him. I also loved the fact that he would swear so much and when I was in cowgirl position is slow down a bit to wipe the sweat off of his face. I loved having *** with him because it made me feel important like I had won a prize at the fair. He made me so happy. But when it was all over he'd act like I was just some ***** call and would take the ****** off so fast and just hop in the shower as if what we had done was a sin. I felt awful about myself right after and would go *** then lay down in his bed almost in tears. I wondered if he didn't like the *** he would always say it was great but that wasn't convincing enough. As we later lied down to watch tv for a little before I went home, I would look up at him and just stare for minutes at a time. Everything felt so fake I had to rub my eyes just to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I cherished those moments we would lie down together because I got to admire all of his features, I would get to hear his heartbeat and I would just fight my tears. The moment would always be so perfect to me. I only ever caught Kyle look at me once while I was looking away, but never the way I gazed at him. Never with the same amount of passion I had when I glanced at him.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 2:55 PM UTC
it's because i love you, you idiot.
that's why.
that's the reason for the lingering hugs,
for the long gazes,
for the secret smiles.
that's the reason why my camera roll is filled of pictures of you and none of me.
why, when we went to that art museum i *********** you about what I thought of those stupid paintings because they meant nothing to me and i couldn't even look at them when the most beautiful piece of artwork was standing right next to me:
You.
that was why i wouldn't let you see the photos i took that day because my lens never did find Van Gogh but instead found you.
but no matter how much i secretly write to you it will never be the same for you.
i bet your camera roll is filled of Picasso and Claude Monet and Édouard Manet because to you, they were the only artwork in the room.
they were what you stared agape at, head tilted, disbelief in your eyes,
when for me,
that was You.
― j.r.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 12:22 PM UTC
just shut
the
****
up
everyone.
i don't need
your half-assed,
*********** sympathy.
all i need is silence.
from you
and from my mind.
from everything.
make the world stop
for a minute-
for just a ******* minute.
that's all i need.
a minute
of silence
for myself
to relax.
to get away from
all this
stress,
sadness
and anxiety.
to get away
from all the constant nagging,
the constant ********
that comes out of everyone's mouth.
i don't need it.
i don't need any of it.
all i want,
all i need
is a minute
of silence.
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 10:08 PM UTC
My middle school history teacher
Made me stay after school one day
"Look, your essay is alright, but I know you *********** it. Your a good writer, so your gonna stay and rewrite the whole thing."
I didn't care about school or writing
But I thought, **** maybe I'm good
At this
Then I got into high school
And the entire freshman class
Had to enter an essay contest
"How the Civil Rights movement still influences us today"
I remember the teacher was a
Real stuck up *****
I wasn't interested in her class
I hardly showed up
And she wasn't interested in me
But I showed up for the announcement of the winner
All the kids were excited
"And the winner is...Raymond Suarez" she read it like a
guilty verdict
"Who's that?" A pale blond asked
"Him" the teacher pointed at me
The excitement in the room hit the pavement hard
I wasn't smiling
but I was
"There will be a banquet with the other state winners to see if you won the state finals. I'll give you the information in a few days"
"OK"
She never did...
Then I ran into that middle school history teacher again
We exchanged phone numbers and he called me that night
"Ray...I gotta tell you something... I'm gay"
"ok..."
Then he called me a few nights later
I was drunk and he wanted me to come over alone
"Nah, I'm gonna stay drinkin with Andy"
"Come on, just come over, I got beer and food, I'll pay for the taxi to drop Andy off and bring you here, what are ya, chickenshit? Your ****** chickenshit man" he said in his sloppy Texan drawl
"Nah"
I opened another beer
And wondered if he ever really thought my writing
Was any good
Then I guzzled that cold crisp beer
Down
And that took care of that thought
And all the rest
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
don't apologize for giving me
precious memories
i knew what i was getting into
from the start
but you said two things that i can't shake:
at the Cuban restaurant you said you never know
what the future brings
and just now you apologized that things went beyond
what you can offer me
at this point in my life
i don't know maybe it's wishful thinking
or just a game
but you never really ***********
always straight up
for the most part
don't apologize for giving me
precious memories
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 4:13 AM UTC