The first kid was a rat. Oh he was so crude and mean. He said:
"Make her eat that!" and pointed to dirt-drenched, ice cream.
The second kid was a sucker for shows. He laughed and such a stupid pose.
But girls have power too ya know.
Girls tend to be smart, and...oh no...
She scooped the food, tears down her eyes, bidding her last goodbyes. Up it went, leaving no traces....

Up to the sky! "Wham!" Into their faces. She laughed and ran on full speed. Jumped a bush and climbed a tree.

"She's like a squirrel!" The first boy yelled.
"Well get up there and push her down!"

The second boy was looking high.
The girl giggled and mocked "So boys do cry."
The second boy ran off, and chickened out.
The first boy said," I can get you no doubt!"
He hopped and hopped and grasped the first branch, then he swung and swung, but couldn't touch the next.
While he struggled so hard the girl, quietly climbed down.
He'd never figure, she was on the other side, on the ground.
She slowly tipped away and went on, back home.
The boys best learn their lessons, and leave this girl **alone

This poem is for anybody struggling to find love.


You know in life love is something we all want to reach
A man or a woman in our lives is what we wanna see
We all want to be hugged and we all want to be kissed
The last thing we ever want is to be incredibly dissed
For some love comes easy but others it’s can be difficult
‘Cause in my opinion it’s easy to say that love is beautiful
We all need love it makes life worth living
You don’t agree with me that’s your decision


But can you imagine yourself heading into your fifties
Never been with somebody makes you look like a *****
Never once have you held somebody’s hand besides your parents
You never ever had somebody to love you and you feel embarrassed
So you never kissed a girl or made out with her
But you want to have that feeling that’s for sure
You never talked to a girl and you feel even worse
Seeing guys with girls makes you feel more hurt
Wishing that there was a female by your side
You want someone there to make your life right
A girl to caress you when you’re feeling down
A girl to come and make your world go round
You want her to kiss you when you feel devastated
But unfortunately all your entire life you hesitated


You wanted to ask a female out but you just chickened out
You feel ashamed because you know what you’re missing out
You’ve been rejected so many times that you lost hope
Asked a girl to be your lover all they told you was no
Went to nightclubs many of times but couldn’t attract girls
You failed to find that somebody who would rock your world
Jealousy burns when you see a girl ******* a guy
People ask if you’re a ****** you go ahead and lie
You’re too ashamed to tell people the truth
When it comes to virgins they are very few
You do want to be inside a girl but you never really had a chance
Either you didn’t have time or you were the one girls couldn’t stand
Just to get her in your bed and kick it off there
But no woman appraoched they just didn’t care
Forced to turn to ******* to turn on your *** drive
Seeing the action hoping you get to do that in your life


A relationship dosen’t seem complete if you haven’t done it
If you haven’t gotten personal with a woman or sumthin’
For other guys it’s very easy to go and make love
You’re frustrated that you couldn’t find someone
It’s pretty clear that nobody wants to be a ******
You want to make sweet love that’s for certain
You hear most people lose it in their teenage years
Almost fifty and you still are one and that’s your fear
It’s either you hesitated all your life
Either you couldn’t find someone right
Or all this time you always have been rejected
And because of that your hopes have been affected
It’s safe to say *** seems to be a popular trend these days
If you haven’t lost it yet you have people thinking that you’re gay


Never been on a date
So you haven’t been great
49 years and you still haven’t found someone
You’re looking for love and you found no one
When you were a child your dream was to have a kid
Now it dosen’t seem possible as you never got did
Embarrassed because most people your age are already grandparents
No one wants you because the wrinkles on your body are apparent
Your younger days were wasted sitting infront of the T.V. all day
It’s a shame because at your age you’ll never get a girl at this rate
It’s embarrassing when you don’t know how *** works
It’s a big shame when you have never recieved flirts


Your elementary school days you were dissed
In middle school the girls thought you were sick
And in high school girls punched you in the lips
It seems as though you never got any luck
You weren’t even close to recieve any lust
Hell, you weren’t even touched by *****
Finding love seems to be a struggle for you
Seems like you need to see The Love Guru
You want to live that kind of life then that’s fine
But if you don’t then you gotta step on the line
Love is not an easy thing to catch
You gotta make like a dog and fetch
Do whatever you can to attract attention
And hope that you don’t fall into deception


If you never been flirted with verebally then you’re a mess
If you’re not even close to that then you’ll never have ***
Having your ***** become wrinkled up and dried up
Can’t let those things keep you down and pop right up
Don’t want live like this then just have to keep trying
Just keep going even though you got people denying
Yeah you’ll be made fun of for waiting too long
With courage so strong nothing can go wrong


Yahoo Phillipness seems to be help
Hearing about people who have dealt
With the harsh reality of not being loved
And to help you move for that special one
If you’re unfortunate they say try a ******
And yeah it’ll cost money just to book her
But that’s probably your only chance at ever getting laid
At your age it’s probably the only option that you can take

that seven days-
i still think about the idea of someone sleeping outside in the cold-
i get very nervous and sad-
when it's cold and i am smoking in front of my home-
then again i kinda smirk and smile-
i know it could happen again-
me outside after the library closes-
sitting and waiting-
wishing and hoping-
i never thought that day would come-
shopping at the dollar store-
thinking i can make it-
all i need is something-
if it rains-
if it rains-
if it rains-
well it did and it got dark-
so i chickened out of the outdoors-
i went in search of warmth-
i found the only fresh grass in the whole parking lot-
darkness is different in the forest-
darkness is different in the city-

I wrote you a poem,
But you never saw it.
All those years ago,
Folded in my pocket.
It didn't say much.
It was short and it was sweet.
It said just enough,
Explained my thoughts complete.
I can still remember
Just how it goes:
I said that I loved you,
But now you'll never know.

I meant to be cliche,
Slip it in your notebook.
Something you could read
When you were alone, but
I guess I chickened out,
Or perhaps I just forgot
Because the next thing I know
I sent it through the wash.
Couldn't read a thing.
Ruined, had to go.
I wrote that I loved you,
But now you wouldn't know.

Never was the one
To discuss my feelings.
Couldn't open up,
Reveal vulnerabilities.
So instead I wrote them down.
It seemed safe that way.
But I knew if you read it
The result would be the same.
So I never tried again,
I let it go.
Still knew that I loved you,
Relieved you'd never know.

Perhaps it was fate
Or the things I couldn't say,
But we reached that point
Where you went your separate way.
Now I only write
For myself and strangers.
Anonymity means
Very little danger.
And I understand
Why you had to go,
But I'll love you forever,
Even if you never know.

I’ll tell you, I am not ashamed
I was afraid to get on that plane

I was so young and full of doubt
I think I almost chickened out

And yet within that doubt I found
Understanding, common ground

With someone who showed me the way
Afraid
I followed
Someone brave

The turkey-oh-gee, on
Isn’t the same
As turg-ee-ohg-heeee.

I chickened a buffalo.

Do moke smock in
The biff part this marks
The spot I’m not skipsing

This was longer ago.

It didn’t really happen. I was awkward,
a sloppy crocheting of clumsy hands.
I was scared of my body; or maybe,
I was scared of her body. Foreign,
but bright from the veil of curtains
slighting a late spring light. I kissed
like a maniac, but when it came down
to the business of pleasure, I could not
make a transaction. She later told me
I could have gone on longer
than my half-a-minute slow grind before
I chickened out. Even now, after
my fifth major relationship and plenty
of romping and dancing atop mattresses
mine and not mine, I feel my first ****
is how I approach love. Tentative,
too contemplative, and none-so-bold.
Perhaps it is because I learned early,
to hate myself, this body that is still
so new to me: twenty-five years owned
and I still don’t know how to love myself.
I just hope that one day, I will be that light
streaming into the room, touching everything
around it, feeling with tender warmth
the goodness of what soon hinders its path
casting shadows behind what I come to kiss.

Do you think you're better off alone?
When the ceiling of a ***** room
Is the night sky and stars and
You're getting comfortable in late night gloom.

.

I'd hate to go home alone but I never left my bed.

.

What's worth the air in your lungs today?
Is it the people you forgot to keep in touch with
Or the helpless yearning for something
Or the life you remember you used to miss.

.

I smoke cigarettes for the warmth in my lungs
And the burn in my throat
Like one thousand bright suns.

.

You could've been vulnerable and explained that
You'd **** for an hour with warm arms around you
And a listening ear, and ****** movies on Netflix
And that cry you refused to allow yourself to do.

.

If any less of a **** was given about your problems
The whole world would be constipated
Permanently.

.

I could've pretended awkward hands in the dead of night
Meant true love, meant something, meant, at least, mutual 'like'.
But denials' for people who don't think so much
And thinkings' my best ally and my worst crutch.

.

You should take hold of your life today, get up, do something
But this bed is safe, this bed is familiar for the ambition-less
And you're the only one who shat there
So sleep in it.

.

The futures' only bright for optimists and I'd never be accused of that.

.

When I'm getting tired of wrapping a lack of feeling
Into precise stanzas, lines, and rhymes
Maybe I'll figure out what I've been rambling on about
Stand up, and live my life.

.

Eenie, meanie, miney, mo
What the **** is life good for
I'll trade you a penny, you give me a dime
And we're all still running on borrowed time.

.

You're too tired to sleep today; three more and you won't wake up.

.

This is the end, I've picked out a date
Got everything planned out, no one's awake, no one can stop me.
Wait. I chickened out, missed it again, failed like the failure I am.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

.

Isolation's only fun for the people with nothing better to do.

.

There's no good way to end something that began badly.
I should remember that
It's a good line
Almost proverbial.

When I was younger I experienced emetophobia, an intense fear of *****. I would sit and wonder to myself, “What if I threw up right now?” and sent myself into a spinning cycle of worry, making me feel perpetually nauseous and no doubt making the situation worse overall. During one of my routine check ups at my pediatrician, I worked up the courage to ask my doctor about it. I told her I felt nauseous almost constantly and I’m terrified of throwing up. She told me that fear can be a powerful thing. I was probably just experiencing anxiety that I caused myself. A self-fulfilling prophecy almost.
Both of my wonderful parents have Multiple Sclerosis. I can’t help but wonder if somehow it’s part of a bigger plan. The truth of the matter is, I have nightmares about it. Will I get sick? How will I work a normal job? Will I still be able to pay my bills? Will I be cursed with this setback before my life has really even begun?
I’ve been sick the past couple days. Nausea, physical weakness, tingles in my legs and hands, shaking fingers and a crazy case of the spins. My logical side tells me it’s probably nothing. A vitamin imbalance or my dosage of Lithium is too high. This has only happened once before and it went away in a few days. Regardless of how many times I try to reassure myself, I keep jumping back to the same basic anxiety that fueled my fear of vomiting. The brain’s ability to persuade is a powerful thing. Is it possible my anxiety is just manifesting itself? Is that even possible? I’ve heard of cases where the body mimics symptoms of pregnancy, down to the swollen belly and milk production. If the body is capable of tricking someone into thinking they’re creating life, what makes me think this misery I’m going through now isn’t just some cruel trick my brain is playing on me? Is it really worth spending a thousand bucks I don’t have just to find out I’m just an anxious person? I already knew that.
I’m finding myself at a crossroads here. My new life in Wichita Falls isn’t all I thought it would be. I’ve made no friends, I’m not doing well at work. The only thing I have going for me is my GPA, and I’m scared that if this anxiety keeps up, I won’t even have that. Here I am, rambling to a Google document that can’t do anything to fix me. Am I losing it? Am I just too deep into my own head? I have a tendency to sabotage myself out of success due to fear of failure. Maybe that’s what’s going on.  
If there really is something going on with my health, I’m not sure how I’ll tackle that mentally. It’s like my worst fears are coming to life in front of me. I’m far away from the people that care about me and it seems as though I’m headed toward the worst possible scenario I had cooked up in my head before moving here. I’m not sure if people really do dislike me or if I’m just so socially anxious that I’ve convinced myself to expect the worst. There are some days I think about giving up and moving back home, but I don’t want to be seen as the girl who chickened out of independence because she wasn’t cut out for the success she sought after. I’m scared of failing, but even more so of disappointing those around me. Perhaps I’m scared of not being as good as everyone thinks I am. I don’t know.
If anyone has any advice, that would be highly appreciated.

the women in my family always have answers they don’t know how to pause wonder me and nobody meet today she walks funny strange we glance smile giggle i am captivated ask for her number she gives it to me i wait day then call we make date meet for coffee talk laugh she tells me about her folks brothers i listen we walk home flirt tease she admires my place paintings i pour 2 glasses of red wine she grabs embraces heart beating wildly we kiss ***** caress strip **** **** cuddle no one and i begin seeing each other falling in love feeling happy content take each other wherever we go celebrate our anniversary i want her so bad ask ms. nonentity to please marry me she laughs nervously says yes our parents family disapprove we elope me and no one create a life history no that’s not actually true i chickened out lost the love of my life now never married no children no one interested wants me my paintings ms. nobody realizes we have been married for many long years what’s wrong why am i so unnoticed hello? are there words on this page? invisible fiction nobody smiles approvingly she takes my hand kisses it lays her head on my lap i gently stroke her head long hair

Went to the place I know you hang out but you no showed.
Sat for a few hours but did not drink the *** and coke I ordered.
Chickened out of commenting after your posted on Google plus.
Count down to Friday and will be hanging with buds again.
Hope you read this and know you are welcomed to join my table if you show up.
Hope you finally read this and know I like you and you realize I am alive.
Risk taker who likes you but I'm too shy to say hi as the real me on the internet.

So guess what I feel **** again,
Because against my anxiety I just can’t win,
All I needed to say was thank you,
But for some reason I just couldn’t do,
Don’t get me wrong I was grateful,
But it wouldn’t come out and now I feel so hateful,
They treat me so nice and buy me dinner,
I couldn’t say thanks I feel like such a sinner,
When I try to speak up,
All my demons won’t shut up,
So yes I chickened out again,
It would be easier to do with a pen,
Don’t be surprised this is nothing new,
Chickening out is usually what I do,
Every time I feel so bad,
And the memories make me sad,
I know it makes absolutely no sense,
That something so simple makes me all tense,
What must they think of me?
So ungrateful I must seem to be,
I wish it would just come out,
Because now it’s all I think about,
I know in my head that it would’ve been fine,
If I had just said thanks for letting me dine,
But I just couldn’t quench the fear,
The fear of nothing it would appear,
I’m just too scared to use my voice,
Even though I know it’s the wrong choice,
So congratulations anxiety to you,
You beat me again like you always do.

The knife is over her wrist
Once agen
She chickened out
Nomoruse times before
"Life means as much as the person"
She whispers"and from what you say I mean less than
The food I eat" the cafeteria was watching this girl
Most had no idea who she was
No idea why tears dropped on her wrist
Only to be washed away by the crimson blood
Eyes flew to the boy that was standing
In paralyzed ****
A month ago he brag of getting into her pants
But he was not the first
Far from it

The few who knew her
Remembered how they call her a ***** and *****
On nothing more than the words of *** crazed boys
Who Say how they "taped that ****"

And silence ended as the knife dropped to the ground
Along with the boy who tries to hold her up right
But it was over
The boy to confused to know to apply presser  
The crowed in compleat anarchy
But none will forget her last words "I'm sorry"

She doesn't even get a dramatic rush from the ambulance.
And worst of all
none will forgive them self
that she died a ******

Dark brown hair, darting eyes.
Want to look, 'stead I sigh.

Passes by, looks my way.
Should I ask for a date?

If I wait, will I lose?
Was her flirt just a ruse?

Passion brews, in my heart.
Could a love affair start?

Eyes still dart, look around.
Can she hear, my heart's sound?

Going down, need to know.
If I ask, tell me no?

So I go, out the door.
Not a word, nothing more.

Same old score, chickened out.
It’s what fear’s all about.

****
All the chances i had to ignite the moments but i chickened out
****
All the time i had to ask you out but i keep on saying next time
****
All the dreams i had about us but they only remain as dream
****
All the spur moments i had with you yet i ****** away.
****

Neither shall I give up the ghost
because
even ghosts have the right to asylum
and the ghost's keeping 'mum'
because ghosts are not stupid.

Lucid?
I thought you wanted Euclid,
same space, but another time
maybe.

I'm fighting inertia
because
Bugner
chickened out.

there are lots of because's
because that's what because's
are,

She dances alone,
the black child
in the yellow dress.

Alone amongst
the black and white oxfords,
the ivory Buster Browns,
the brown penny loafers
with smiling Abe Lincoln’s
looking up to her
from the confines
of their penny keepers.

Her white socks touch
the polished mahogany
hopping silently to
the beats of Chuck Berry
and Johnny B. Goode

She imagines hearing
her name in the lyrics:
Go go go
Go Joanie go go go
Go Joanie go go go
Go Joanie go go go
Go Joanie go go go
Joanie B. Goode.

She is loose but precise,
careful not to leave a mark,
correcting every footfall
with the more perfect
ballerina form
she saw once in
a Moira Shearer feature,
the one where the dancer
dies in the final act.

In the background she hears
the white throng under the
blue and white stripe panels
of the Republic Theater
dance to their own rules
a mess of governance that
obeys its own inane logic.

But then not one of them
had to sneak in through
the backstage door
when her brother, Marcus
chickened out at the first
“******” spited his way,
denying Joanie
even the indignity
of a colored only entrance.  

At the still point
between the lyrics Joan
finds the real dance,
the one intent on hiding
a choreography of grief,
a sadness, a defiance
she shares only
with her shadow.

She imagines herself
a joyous, living, wondrous
thing at play,
a girl reborn into a woman,
a dancer over America.

Otherwise titled deep into my fiftieth year of passive aggressive rebellious puberty.

Yes, I chickened out getting a haircut yesterday August twenty seventh two thousand and twenty four as stated in a previous poem before undergoing cataract surgery cause mine deux (mind you) ponytail donation of at least by donating at least eight inches of these straggly tresses to a facility that repurposes cut hair for Children with Hair Loss after getting golden – more specifically brunette imponderable locks lopped off, would still cost me thirty five dollars namely at Salon Nova (situated at west Ridge Pike, Suite A, Royersford, Pennsylvania, 19468) not including a tip, which extra bonus, (would most likely top off the total cost close to fifty dollars, but yours truly best ask this question ahead of time, which monetary fait accompli with scissors might best set my sights until speedy recovery videre licet post cataract surgery.

Sacrilegious transgression against deeply rooted obsessive compulsive disorder impossible mission to forcibly eject from out my psyche, until drastic measure of prefrontal lobotomy or Electroconvulsive therapy employed courtesy a thirteen year old.

Siege warfare (trumpeting)
average joe biden his time
linkedin with aberrant behavior
transpires within me mind,
(not just today August 27th, 2024,
but everyday/365)
warrants depleting stockpile arsenal
constituting exhausting mental health
uprooting deep seated repellent pesky
daunting lost cause.

Overruled by irrational thoughts,
I feebly muster a lame duck
half quacked comeback
(think home team cheering at pep rally)
against analogous figurative agents provocateur
said nemesis bore down hard
upon sense and sense abilities
mine psyche undergoing
blistering, hectoring withering, et cetera
courtesy ghost of Emily Brontë
mailer daemons flitting to and fro,
hither and yon within wuthering heights.

Another necessity Emma gin)
awoke prided prejudice
plus sense and sensibility
to confront head on
after trimming back the tresses
beastie boy foo fighting (Irish,
no matter genealogy regarding
yours truly Eastern European)
mine talking head housing
private insane asylum.

Incomprehensible thought processes
chronically spin out of control
dictate mandate NOT to wash hair
until at least one week passage of time,
(an arbitrarily chosen number
i.e. seven days convenient block)
even if appearance looks unkempt, slovenly
grungy, et cetera as nirvana seeking guy.

Thus, I readily admit self held hostage,
whereby loopy thought provoking patterns
hopelessly, grimly, futilely find me surrendering
NEVER eradicating down battened ramparts
neurotic, lunatic approved, idiotic
mind mental chattering
babbling jabbering gibberish
housing concocted village people
dead set against shampooing oily locks.

Quite a tussle (think metaphorical hair pulling)
ensues within me scrambled noggin,
whereby pathetic psychotic pummeling
win knows scrimmage
scoring touchdown amidst
teaming muted brouhaha
allowing, enabling, and providing
harmlessly insane nettlesome
pesky skewed notions
ridiculous leeway to predominate
until yours truly USDA
qualified, hashtagged, certified...
as grateful dead among human league.

I generally mean mine mien mental state
moost occasions heavily marinated stupor
long established as external trait
psychologically time tested trooper
impossible mission to kickstart sanity
doppelgänger regularly revisits his soul asylum
hellbent antimatter he cannot vitiate
despite therapeutic laxative merely exhausts
well bred literate smoking doobie brother
eliminating aforementioned pablum
witnessed courtesy one floundering grouper
among plenty of fish schooled
hyphenated (high finned haggled)
burn hushed scaled poem
courtesy one unionised rebellious party pooper.

Spellbound with colossal mental grippe
(i.e. all-consuming figurative cerebral
obsessive compulsive forced membership)
magnetic resonance imaging
indicated jagged blip
and/or nsync microscopy
showed telltale genetic authorship
regarding above stated mental health crisis,
whereby Sigmund Freud analyst did flip
lid freeing leeches imported courtesy Philip
Hansel and Gretel a mere slip
o' lass, whose nose she always did turnip.