"choosy" poems
I dreamt that I'd tell you,
I dreamt I'd convince you.
I dreamt you would love me
and I too would love you.
I dreamt of perfection,
a dream so romantic.
I dreamt you would smile
and carefully panic.
I dreamt you would hug me.
I dreamt we would both see,
together we're better -
I dreamt you weren't choosy.
I dreamt up the ways
of how I could tell you.
I dreamt up bouquets
and a time and place too.
I dreamt that I told you.
I dreamt that I could do.
I dreamt that it happened.
I dreamt of a breakthrough.
instead i told you
at 3am drunk on facebook
and i took it back the next morning
Jun 11, 2012
Jun 11, 2012 at 6:22 PM UTC
Do you want
to hear
a story droll?
About a dog
with a kind
soul
Outside,
that night,
I heard the winds howl
Inside
was the sound
of an intermittent growl
I opened the door and he
slipped out
Some time later, he
came back with a pout
Reprimanded he was
for coming back
with a muddy taint.
Remorseless,
head raised, he
stood there defiant.
“Okay, Scot!
Let’s see what you got”
He gently
dropped
his big scowl
and Out fell,
in my palms,
a baby owl!
Apparently he had
peeped far
from his tree hole
When Scot was
beneath that tree
sniffing a mole
Frightened but fine,
the owlet
was a bit choosy
So we went,
to put him back,
in his tree hole cosy!
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 6:01 AM UTC
Flowers aren't choosy
Which bee which bug
Come one come all.
Bees and bugs
Aren't choosy either
All entries sweetly natural.
Imagine a flower
Closing its throat
Against a bee it thought a bore.
Who said object
Should excite act
That that was moral?
If only the verb
The act acts,
Why call your sister a *****
Sin and shame!
Abandon the word
Moral. You can see it's immoral.
3.3k
Little Box talks back
With a new set of teeth
And pink gums
A fake nose and a wax mustache
She disguises her voice
To sound like Groucho
•
Little Box opens up
And cries to her psychiatrist
I don’t know why they hate me
I’m such a sweetheart
I volunteer at the zoo
And teach Mandarin
To their bratty children
•
Little Box is not happy to see you
So she closes herself up for months
Years, decades, and two millennia!
She tacks up a sign that says
Nirvana
•
Little Box is undead
She sleeps all day in a coffin
Hands over chest
At night she cruises the mall
For juicy victims
She prefers type A
But AB if she has to
What can you say
Vampires can’t be choosy
She likes your stupid brother
•
Little Box is on the psychiatry couch
Everybody hates me
Nobody loves me
Little Box lies on her side
And spills her guts
•
What’s in Little Box
A perfect orchid
A chocolate-covered strawberry
A new iPhone
With a glittery sleeve
Amber earrings from Pushkin
Keys to a new Porsche
A retro Chanel brooch
A Getty scion’s left ear
A Czar’s *****
Gifts so rare
Please don’t stare
•
What’s in Little Box
Rancid chow mein
A sliver of cold pizza
Last week’s hummus
You’re a starving orphan
From East Brooklyn
And you’ll eat it
•
So you want to **** Little Box
You want to know her secret
She won’t open up
She won’t give it up
And you are genuinely repelled
By her filthy ribbon
•
You want to DO the Little Box
You are a sorry story
You big creep
Why don’t you get off the couch and find
A real girlfriend!
•
Boss Box
White, square, and without a soul!
•
Please don’t analyze Little Box
She’s just cardboard clogging the landfill
Her mother Precious Jade Purse
Has been regifted
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 1:58 AM UTC
A tale,
Of two pals,
Ego possessed the former,
Self-respect imbibed the latter.
The former faced problems, complained;
The latter solved problems, smiled.
One, choosy and demanding;
Other, suitable and acceptable.
Fortunately,
Acquiring jobs,
In a corporation,
Standing at the threshold
Of promising careers,
Days rolled on
And the day arrived
For promotion.
Self-respect surpassed,
Ego lagged behind.
Thoughts converted into self-realization,
Truth revealed.
Ego satisfied merely the senses
"I want this" and "I want that"
Self-respect implied acceptance
"I respect this and I accept that."
To further proceed,
To reach the summit,
'I' and 'my' be discarded,
'We' and 'ours' be adopted.
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 7:38 AM UTC
#100716 #ElNidoPalawan #PamilihangBayan
Sisiksik ka sa eskinitang
Talamak ang mga choosy
Aalukin ka pero ika'y tatanggi
Kasi iba naman ang dinayo mo.
Pero doon ka pala matututong magpatawad
Kasi pag gusto mo't pag mahal,
Hihingi ka ng tawad.
Pero minsan, kahit buo pa ang ibayad mo,
Di ka pa rin masukli-suklian.
At doon mo mapagtatantong
Ikaw na lang ang nasa eskinita --
Gabi na, umuwi ka na!
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 9:25 AM UTC
rich beggar
told poor beggar:
' You sleep well
lucky ******
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 10:12 AM UTC
A small single apartment
That is all I really need.
The result of low ambition
And a paucity of greed.
A kitchen for cooking
A comfy place to sleep
Just great for meditation for
Thoughts that don’t go deep.
It was close to my buddies
That good old gang of mine
I go there, they come here,
As long as there was wine.
I was serving jug wine
And vintage it was not.
I had to switch to *** when
My stomach started to rot.
I also served cheap beer,
The cheapest I could find.
Between the wine and beer
It’s lucky today I’m not blind.
And food was also frugal
Mostly chips and salsa hot.
Stoners aren’t that choosy.
Gourmands we were not.
Of course we all had our own
Personal marijuana stash.
Its quality depended on
The amount of available cash.
But one of us was a dealer
Or sometimes there were two.
They always brought a supply
To sell, that’s what they do.
We laughed and roared and
Someone always had a guitar
It is nineteen seventy two
And that’s how conditions are.
Some of us had jobs back then
But most were floating around.
It’s hard to be a stable soul
With no feet on the ground.
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 5:54 PM UTC
Torn
Without color we all should be born
Because of, all we do now is mourn
As untimely deaths come to our
First born
Second born
Third born
Just because of their skin color
Our brothers
It's time we lay the weapons down
We all come together
Stand altogether
To stop loss of lives because of someone's skin color
(Black skin is not a sin)
This world
Torn
Now all we do is mourn
Terrorist
Evokes, fear across the world
Your neighbor?
Yes, they could be that near
Watch the news
It's something new every morning
They **** with no warning
Then our world goes into mourning
It's time
They lay their weapons down
For us all to come together
Stand altogether
To stop them from going into any town
Let us not back down
This world
Torn
Now again we are mourning
Caused by mass shootings
Because someone thought it was their duty
Not being choosy
In their shooting
Execution
Afterwards people standing behind
( the second amendment )
Of an aged constitution
It's time
For us all to come together
Stand altogether
To change the
Constitution
There is no other solution
It's time
For us all to come together
Stand altogether
To stop
The pollution
of minds
!!
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 1:34 PM UTC
Between then, choosy bull, and now
When you did throw me apace over
For some smarter and lovelier cow;
I've become the brightest and a killer.
Jan 20, 2012
Jan 20, 2012 at 3:39 PM UTC
What has come over me of late
The sound of falling footsteps behind
Sends all my senses on a strike
Leaving me with thunderous pounding of the heart
My mind then buzzes with thoughts and I go dizzy
Why this happens to me every now and then
Is this what you call love?
Why I nurse the aura of a beautiful dream
Why I see the Earth wearing new shades
Why I feel the wind whispering to me a new tale
Why I doubt if there is greater melody in the twitter of birds
Why do I feel this moment intoxicating
Never have I felt like this before
Is this what you call love?
Of late I run to the mirror more often
Am I becoming another Narcissus
Falling in love with my own image
Why do I become so choosy in my dress
Why do I look around to see if anyone has seen me smiling to myself
I wonder what has happened to me these days
Is this what you call love?
Why do I see stars on a bare night sky
Why I feel the night air indolently fragrant
Why sleep eludes me even at the wee hours of the night
Making me sit delirious by the window
Hoping to catch the glimpse of a shadow
Why this happens night after night
Is this what you call love?
Why my mind wanders like an unattended kite
I grow excited, I grow restless
I grow impatient with time
Sometimes anxiety grips me
I sink and rise in the ocean of my moods
There is a visible change in me
Is this what you call love?
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 6:51 AM UTC
I can see through your eyes
Dark pigment
Surrounded by a colorless horizon
Lids and lashes act as curtains
But as you become surprised they rise
...
Your eyes are wide
The reflection I get makes me think that I'm in the picture
But reality tell me that everyone else sees themselves within you
I can see through your eyes , but I can't tell who you're looking forward to
Contenders
Applicants
Aspirants
Do we all make your eyes sparkle or is that just the only thing that divorces me from the other prospects?
The other prospects keep looking just as I do, so I know that it is something that they want
...Your eyes
Your eyes become my shining gold when your cheeks elevate and suppress , leaving wrinkles right next
Your upside down rainbow, I mean ... your smile
So kaleidoscopic and polychromatic
Dynamic and emphatic
What creature wouldn't be attracted?
...
Umm
Whatever natural specimen with a good sight that can see through your eyes.
Someone with similar vision, but nonidentical decisions to I
I know your smile is moody
Your heart is choosy
And your eyes are gluey
And yet I dissociate myself from your gallery
Believing some day that you'll just shut your eyes and become blind to all the other guys
How do I disregard the signs that I'm instructed while seeing through your eyes
The signs that show me how you flourish off of all the concentration that you get
I'm posing inside of a picture that I know is framed by faces that do not have placement
Your art steadily draws attention
so as soon as you get glimpses
You start your bidding
Your craft is so worthy but so inexpensive
As if you put your body up for sale and mark down the price, only to stay top seller to the cheap consumers
How do you allow to have a allowance upon yourself; moreover, place yourself on clearance
The real question is why do I window shop knowing that the quality of the product is so unreliable
I don't think I really wanna see, what I really see when looking through your eyes
Wishing you weren't so prideful about your high demand of men
If yu weren't so disdainful maybe you'll blink more often and try to
Shun from keeping eye contact with me
Instead you proudly advertise yourself as the best deal yet
I hate that I can see through your eyes
Because I hate to witness a beautiful woman with such a bargaining mind
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
The sarcastic talk. Your taunts that flock
The short tempered you! You just make me follow you!
Like the turbulent storm, you’re rough and uptight
But when I look into your eyes, you’re just a small mice.
The agitated you get, with the silliest things around,
The tantrums you throw, like a circus clown
You sure have the energy to take a bear down!
The choosy you get, with outstanding reasons, I bet
Surly makes my stomach upset.
But if I look at you and I see a little frown,
Don’t’ worry baby, I’ll tilt the world upside down!
The witty words, and the pranks you play,
Even kids would be in dismay.
The indecisive you get, with the simplest of choice,
I begin to hear your head voice.
The reasons you give when you get caught
Makes my all senses clot!
But when you know, that I’m upset; you give me that hug…
And then I feel like I’m your love bug.
In the end, all said and done
You’re my favorite, you’re the one…
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 5:28 AM UTC
Amelia, our baby first,
in nine months have grown a third;
no speech, no talkie,
all she wants is walkie-walkie.
Being our first we naturally debate,
on how best to educate;
dolls for girls and guns for boys,
what nonsense, toys are toys.
Will she a doctor, lawyer or housewife be,
I live long hope to see;
right now she is just naughty,
and breaks the dining cutlery.
Of food she is choosy,
and eats most daintily;
she is chubby and she is fair,
we only lament her lack of hair.
Every now and then a few steps she takes,
tip-toe grace does not a ballerina makes;
like all parents our hopes high burn,
to a swan, our little Amelia turns.
Knowing games played by Fate,
we have decided, now of late;
to take the profit with the loss,
to let nature takes it's course.
The things of value we provide,
the self-life chart she decides;
this happy burden, we dare say,
is gladly borne, day-to-day.
As we look on her behalf,
down life's long and winding path;
we can only say, with a sigh,
sweet dreams and goodnight.
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 3:43 AM UTC
ATYPICAL GAY GUY
I am an atypical gay guy
I don’t match any mold.
I am not young any more
But not in any way old.
Too fem to be a he-man
Too butch to be a queen.
I am neither fish nor fowl
Always Mr. In-Between.
I do love my show tunes
And of course Miss Babs
And I do put a bit of product
In my hair, just a few dabs.
I don’t haunt the health clubs
Flexing on the big machines
Trying to bring to vapors
Our local workout queens.
I do like to cook a little bit
But, my house is usually a mess.
I don’t like angora sweaters
And would never wear a dress.
You couldn’t really peg me
By the way I usually walk.
I don’t lisp or squeal, so
It’s a manly way I talk.
I do cruise quite normally
When hot guys walk by me.
But, I try my best to do so
Undetected, and slyly.
My taste in men does not
Run to muscled guys.
When I see someone pass
I first look at his eyes.
It’s hard to get me into bed,
I am really rather choosy.
I don’t do promiscuity,
Not a backdoor loosey-goosey.
So don’t go giving birthday gifts
Of dildoes and leather goods.
You won’t find me in costumes
Like rubber and leather hoods.
I am an atypical gay guy
I don’t match any mold.
I am not young any more
But not in any way old.
Too fem to be a he-man
Too butch to be a queen.
I am neither fish nor fowl
Always Mr. In-Between.
Brent Kincaid
1/27/2015
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 11:07 PM UTC
You understand what suits you,
Choosing from tailors present or past,
Preferring not the uniform.
Whose robes to **** this trip?
Adding their layers to the shadow below.
Fashion a style, accordingly-
Another fearless, determined Oxford man
In a pink suit.
Style a fashion, apathetically-
A filthy, disheveled codger, trudging
From one unmanageable apartment to another,
Writing music in his mind, never hearing it,
Changing the world forever.
Or,
Owning only a pair of each-
Black shoes, tights, and tops,
And seventeen brightly colored scarves,
Wear your heart on your sleeve.
The most priceless accessory for spending
Retirement in Somalia with the children.
Being choosy in dress and shadows,
Remember seasons None too original,
Choose fear or love.
Suit yourself.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 11:49 PM UTC
Choosy, contemplating all options,
or even disdainfully passing
by without so much as a look,
Is how they see her, laughing
awkwardly, when they suggest
spells and love potions.
All is in jest.
But why is she alone?
Always quiet, unfathomable gaze.
Hides worlds in her sighs
when she shields neath a book.
If they knew of the thirst
the fire
bursts
Love is a stranger to her
Daftly escaping everyone's tries
of introduction, under
pressure, nimble lies
when they fail.
Is that why
she is alone?
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 4:29 PM UTC
Strange woman, cheerful and chase
Charming as cheerleaders, choosy with cheese
Attractive, pleasing, ballsy and proud
But she'll crash you down to the ground.
Strange woman, fine as flour
Free as fire, and fair as flowers
Luring, tempting, **** and all
But she'll break your body and soul.
Strange woman, soft as silk
Sleek as snakes, and sweet as sweets
Alluring, teasing, luscious as oil
But she'll wreck your marital spoils.
© Raphael Uzor
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
I wish you knew me
but you see through me
straight to the other side
I wish you were into me
that you might peruse me
date until the day I died
I wish you'd come to me
but you eschew me
hate me with all your pride
but you're a beauty
who lives so cruelly
so fate just won't collide
being so snooty
and so very choosy
create ugliness inside
thank God you did exclude me
continued to elude me
you'd equate to an awful bride
so I found a new she
one who has renewed me
my mate forever by my side
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 6:02 AM UTC
Out on the town
Looking real snazzy.
Hearing the music,
Sounds quite jazzy.
Look over there,
They aren't so choosy.
Bet they buy a drink,
For this old floozie.
Getting all loopy,
Beginning to schmoozie,
Liquored up,
And feeling quite oozie.
Swaying to the music,
Holding on tight,
Hope to stay standing,
But losing the fight.
Jan 28, 2011
Jan 28, 2011 at 5:36 PM UTC
The world is so big,
never thought it could hold so much
So many places to go,
but I never find my way home
Maybe I'm too picky-choosy
thinking nothing's good enough
Maybe I'm too prideful
or foolish to know that
Your love is my home
Your hands hold my reality
Your peace is my resting place,
nothing could replace
The home I have in You.
Even though I was lost
so caught up in my own world
You held my hand
and I knew it was always Your plan.
Your love is my home
Your hands hold my reality
Your peace is my resting place,
nothing could replace
The home I have in You.
I'm slowly realizing
slowly figuring out
That all my days of hiding
You were what life was about.
I'm taking responsibility
for the life You've called to own
For the only way I can make it
is to acknowledge Your love is home.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
Who was the first person to decide
what's right and what's wrong?
Not the picky choosy **** we think
Came straight from the Bible.
The book that's been translated across
many languages, cultures, and general
beliefs?
I mean the first person.
The first group of people that decided
having a full life is wrong.
Being yourself is wrong.
Wanting is wrong.
Yearning, dreaming, achieving...
All wrong.
Who decided being a woman
was so wrong that we should be condemned?
I should be able to **** who I want
and not be defined by my "number".
I shouldn't have to be asked that question.
I should be getting high-fived for having
Consensual *** with the guy who
makes my coffee.
I should be applauded for having ***
with multiple men.
I should be shown the same level of
respect as any man out there.
But my number is vital, isn't it?
Well, I say **** all of that.
**** a whole bunch of it.
**** anyone you want.
******* do anything you want to do.
Don't hurt anyone, and it shouldn't
be anyone's ******* business but yours.
Jesus ******* Christ.
**** him, too.
**** any imaginary thing you want.
That's what ************ is for.
**** yourself, for God's sake!
He wanted his people to be happy, right?
Free yourself from the chains of
modern society!
Find people just like you, and don't let them go.
They will be strong for you,
hold their heads high for you.
Defend you against nay-sayers and party poopers.
Stand behind you when confronted with
mass objection.
We are the lovers, and the fighters,
and we are many.
Band together and **** society.
You know,
For God's sake.
lmt
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 7:38 PM UTC
not behind everything is my hand
not everything even I understand
I try to craft from chaos some order
leave some unfinished some on the border.
my home though cosmos I reside within
without being choosy about skin and sin
the good and the bad I have to take along
like I take in my stride all right and wrong.
if you have faith I make some sense
to the faithless I'm just nonsense
so made I'm no grudge can harbor
satan and angel find my favor.
I feel burdened when see the mankind
finding in everything my hidden hand
not realizing if only I had a magic wand
would have made this world an unblemished land.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
I went out with a friend for a night on the town
She said you are single, you should mingle
I know just the place you should try The Lonely Hearts Club
She dropped me off something came up she had to run, she said have fun, call me when your done
I found a seat looked at the menu, saw that prices were cheap and placed an order
The place was in disorder the music was too loud, having dinner for one did not seem to fun
I decided to wait until dinner was through to see if things would improve
I saw that some poor guy nearby spilled his drink all over a gal close to him
To make matters worse he walked up to me, He smelled of alcohol and cheap cigars
He blurted out that he thought he would take a change and ask me to dance
He also exclaimed that he was also looking for romance and asked for my name
I told him I am choosy because I'm no ****** I'm holding on waiting for Mr Right someday he will be in my sight
I called my friend for a ride home, I left The Lonely Hearts club with my dignity intact
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
I wrote them, he did not write back,
The walls of the buildings bore his name
and the jammed rhymes swam
at the tip of his pen,
they did not recall his youth
neither did I.
I sat back on the arms of my pillow,
he has become the city, the
restless street and restoring noise
I ran away from. The first grade corner
and kneeling nostalgia rushed
the doorway, vanished.
He absorbed the flames, lifted
the loops around my legs and my
mix matched shoes. The choosy
memory ripped off my rib cage
and filled it with
deep-deep golden moments.
When did he defictionalize my
September?
I never felt his hands or the mind
or his vertebrated little words but
The city, its lights and the marks
and traces
stagnated my baked brain.
Today I feel uninvited,
I miss the way I mused over his
******* youth, the music of
his wine soaked eyes and
the flawless silence he embraced.
Like always
He has become another cotton seed
Lost after my September.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC