"cherrios" poems
Don't blame yourself for not understanding,
Even when your surrounded by the 'outstanding'
Don't blame yourself for not being smart enough,
Even when you aren't as tough,
Don't let the fear of failure consume your hope,
Even if the person next to you is trying beat it to death, you can cope,
You are not perfect and not for their lifestyle,
You are unique and ever so versatile
You like a fruit loop in a world of Cherrios,
Individual and different.
Don't blame yourself for not being like everyone else,
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 12:37 AM UTC
We have talked, tonight,
about the function of the subconscious –
whether it shapes my dreams
forgets your nights
clouds our judgment
makes mistakes,
or whether it is simply a figment
of the scholars’ imaginations
an out for the unexplainable
a possibility for a girl who has too many
answers.
I call to evidence the empty bottles
in your sacred hands,
the you that is trying to escape the frigid confines
of a strict upbringing.
I call to evidence my bowl of cherrios
tucked between burnt *******
the liquid courage that enables
the dripping of my secrets.
You are a lover of words,
a man who knows the simplicity of each syllable
and the power behind one’s expression,
but I find you a hypocrite
as you thank me for my story and do not realize
that I have not expressed
****
You are exactly right,
the difference between recounting, reliving,
telling, communicating, and explaining
comes down to more than a metanarrative detail.
The words that you have studied
comfort you and frame our conversation
yet veil the greater truth.
You are a lover of emotion
the same emotion you fear is gay
that you have only discovered on your feminine side
which falls down your face in the middle of my narrative
and clenches your fists
You say you cannot sympathize empathize
or understand,
but maybe you feel.
It was nice to meet you.
Jul 25, 2010
Jul 25, 2010 at 10:39 PM UTC
There's eight dead in Mississippi.
My hair makes me look like a hippy.
It's awfully cold for the month of June.
I hope it warms up soon.
The skinny chef is serving something strange.
Benjamins are out begging for change.
The shaggy barber gives a skinhead a trim.
The chunky trainer tells me how to get slim.
There's attacks in the UK.
I haven't anything to do today.
I think I'll walk along the railroad.
See how far it goes.
The skinny chef is serving something strange.
Benjamins are out begging for change.
The shaggy barber gives a skinhead a trim.
The chunky trainer tells me how to get slim.
A young boy drowned in the river.
My girl's touch makes my body quiver.
Superteams ruined in NBA.
But that's okay.
The skinny chef is serving something strange.
Benjamins are out begging for change.
The shaggy barber gives a skinhead a trim.
The chunky trainer tells me how to get slim.
I'm not comfy in my streetclothes.
I'd like to be wrapped up in silk.
I poured a big bowl of cherrios .
But I don't have any milk.
Ooohh
I don't have any milk.
Oh no no
I don't have any milk.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 2:28 AM UTC
a tacky canvas that
pitcher-dribble reaped,
like an infant in the highchair,
no cherrios to eat.
mundane messes like
blood on your knee,
gravel in between;
bend, but grit your teeth.
white was so boring, though
color cannot be undone,
until a final draw ends,
and entropy starts to run.
watercolor, was it?
the dye won’t wash away.
don’t you see me,
****** by graffiti
like the coffee stains on
my tie, the ink at the
top of my naked sleeve;
leading edges that bleed.
if you shudder at the unholy
messes, the incongruent seams,
i took too much of your time
already, ask once, i’ll let you be.
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 6:15 PM UTC
soggy cherrios
left on the slide - forgotten
in mid-imagination
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 2:40 PM UTC