"disliking" poems
What might it be that doesn't let me compete to three verses ?
Perhaps it is that I tend to write longer poems, perhaps the lengh
shouldn't matter so much as the message is carried through.
From mind to heart, then to ones soul I try to reach out with no goal.
Yet am beaten, brought back down, by three verses which show up
with such malice, ominous, threatful aura, they have approached me.
I pretend not to mind, I pretend not to have seen it, yet the simple,
silly, broken stream in my thoughts has already engaged it.
So that it once again, cannot repress, envy on such a level.
My writing style might have been through changes, might have
come to a disliking to those who prefer a clear, structured, yet well
recorded, beautiful and magnificent rhyme pattern.
That should surely catch one's eye, perhaps fill them with glee and
bliss, happy thoughts that they would miss once they are gone.
But no, I cannot turn, this path was chosen, locked, destined to be
walked upon on an journey which has become endless, by time
which had stopped passing anymore.
So now it became unrecognised, forgotten, left in an abyss without
any light to expose it to the world outside my head.
Such is the fate, which I will gladly bear with, for this, has been
a route, from which I learn and educate.
So go ahead, you can take my flame thrice, even if I might not be
able to burn this image into your eyes, this ember, about to go out
from the cold, windy, airless area, will only burn brighter.
As it rises from the ashes and yet again, goes ablaze
~ Umi
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 6:55 PM UTC
I have a love-hate relationship with words.
I prefer the paintbrush to a pen.
Still, I find myself expressing my thoughts through words
Though I end up disliking 99% of the things I write.
I'm quirky and awkward.
Most people would consider me weird
To the point of crazy...
Perhaps society has given me the diagnosis of insanity.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 12:41 PM UTC
I don’t like cauliflower so I will feed all mine to friends
moving black specks, fruit flies on vegetables
confused
killing their dinner with cyanide
like sticks of cinnamon or garlic cubes
I hand it to bugs with my long second toe
that is supposed to mean I am a genius, but I don’t eat
cauliflower broccoli anything leafy and I am missing fish oil
from my diet
confused
I whisper into the fruit flies’ elf ears
perked up as dog eyes escape their sockets sometimes
Dogs do not eat cauliflower either or hummus
they are not even confused
Morning, we all see the same shape of the moon’s goneness
but others will eat bread despite mold
I wonder if I am one
and what have I done to the economy by disliking
cauliflower broccoli anything leafy and fish oil, as well.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 6:32 PM UTC
this is the problem, you see. i hate orange flavoured things, but don't mind the fruit or the colour itself. i despise chocolate flavoured items as well, but will never complain if a whole bar fell into my lap. i cannot decide if it is the simple idea of disliking the watered down version of the original thing that irks me the most, or if it is something more. perhaps it is the very thought of a half truth - an illusion, if you may - that disgusts me, because these things will never be as good as the real, original item to me. you are the same, i have realised; years of sporadic vanishing and reappearing have not wavered my feelings for you, and all the people i have tried to replace you with pale in comparison.
i might be capable of lying to everyone around me, but i cannot do it to myself or you. the funny thing is that you know this, as much as i know it too. for we are vulnerable as we are broken, and somehow deep down in the darkness where we sink we are guided by the same light, which always brings me back to you, and you to me.
-
"how have you been?"
*i miss you in ways i cannot even begin to describe. i miss you the way sleep lingers in our eyes as the dawn breaks, and i miss you when our song comes on. i miss you the most when the storms arrive or when a joke is made and i turn around expecting to see your accompanying smile, but meet empty air.
the truth is, i'm lost. i miss you completely, terribly, unbelievably so, and it eats at me every single day.*
"just fine."
i put on the biggest smile i can muster and walk away.
(A.H.Z)
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 8:43 AM UTC
You claim to be friendly and caring
But theres a difference
Between disliking someone
And being a bully.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
I was abused literally and pushed aside by teacher
He was in rage to see me when I tried to enter
He might have some grievances in mind to nurture
As I was doing fare in studies and position was assured
I was really ashy boy but excellent in pick up
I heard attentively and was cheered with thumb up
His behavior as teacher made great impact in mind
I might have taken it lightly if he was harsh or unkind
It is customary to show little disrespect to the poor students
Some of the discourtesy is extended with inferior comments
I was unable to think further but bore a grudge permanently
I remember those abusive remarks and resisted him once vehemently
I thought and rethought about such behavior
As teacher he would have been considerate and held honor
I became reserved from that day and decided to keep silent
As it was now known to me that best way is to offer no comment
In social circle too certain disliking exist for people
It may be more intensive when they are incapable
Not in financial capacity to move forward and compete
Live under their dominance and agree to submit
I remained firm in approach but turned away from close contacts
I kept good will at heart and prayed for their well being in fact
This gave me enough of strength to observe them from distance
I was taken little note of and none observed my presence
I return gesture with kind words and remain aloof
I have enough of strength financially as single proof
They dare not to see me with inferiority and pull down
As I have established of my own and became powerfully known
I wish that same kind of maltreatment is not shown
To children who are unfortunate of having means of their own
They are really asset to us and builder of future generation
How can we be indifferent when question of building nation comes?
I have known some of the people getting blinded
By sudden arrival of fortune and secretly confided
Their common sense gets unnatural boost to reveal
The arrogance is reflected and shown with no efforts to conceal
Dec 9, 2011
Dec 9, 2011 at 7:48 AM UTC
Upon waking yesterday morn, the temperature was 8 degrees;
cancellation of events and slippery icy roads, disliking winter!
T'was out driving and dealing with the limited visibility; freezing.
Wasn't fun maneuvering usually two lane streets; turned one.
I'm sitting here wide awake and staring at ice crystal windows,
went to bed last night, temperature was frigid sub zero; No joke!
The furnace had a busy night keeping this old drafty house warm.
My cute little budgie who "was" chirping, is now sleeping on perch.
Giving a memory of yesterday brief thought and still find it funny.
Went shopping after losing the debate of exiting a warm vehicle.
Over heard a conversation regarding me, based on the "assumed".
The two ladies(without a doubt) read what's posted on net sites.
Standing in the next aisle, ears slightly alert, hearing my full name.
Should I walk up to say, "hello!" or tell them to mind own business?
Found it amusing and a bit flattering, despite negative words used.
Did they see me enter the store or did they even care that I heard?
If I were indeed the "rumored" witch, I'd melt every inch of snow.
Why did these villagers "presume" I'm holder of necromancer's card?
Defective reasoning of me practicing "voodoo" and casting many spells.
A bit of food for thought; It's one-dimensional and illogical thinking.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 3:53 AM UTC
The subtle cross between intersections, a life of blurriness, through crossed t’s and neatly dotted i’s I removed from the phrase Poetic Form, (trying to spell it without crossing myself back into it).
From lesbianism to manhood,
to cross what being a man means,
I wonder if my own identity is written in pen and everyone wants it typed and edited,
Yet I’ve taken the plastic keys off my computer board and made them into magnets last week,
Setting myself up with stolen magnets stolen blocks,
Putting them in order on my own fridge,
Scrambling them back because there is no order,
They only told you there was so that way you’d sing a song,
But I know now that I can write words, there’s no need for a pre-prescribed song when I’ve written my own,
In my own words.
When I look back and have pages of songs nobody else asked for or decided to write,
When I’m in class and I pocket my songs into stories and my stories under my low grades,
Under my teachers’ requests for MLA format,
I think of that caterpillar I played with in my room when I was six,
And how i thought about how people only wrote about butterflies
And how the caterpillars felt about that,
So when I asked my mother to ask her friend, an author,
If she’d write me into a novel,
Would she ignore me because I was a caterpillar,
Only choosing to open her mouth and write when my story became beautiful and socially acceptable,
When it grew out from the pubescent disliking of itself and stained the sinks of society,
Out of a hot *** of queer and quarantine,
Till the broth of the fluidity of my own being was was down the rabbit hole
Till all that was left was whitewashed spaghetti?
If these songs were anything I could write down again and again,
In pen, ignoring the requests to write neater,
To type faster,
If I put all my work into an envelope I already broke,
Shove it into a mailbox decorated with things people disagree with,
My pages bleeding ink few people can touch without being soaked,
When they ask me what to file me under
I don’t say “minority fiction” anymore
I say file me under “road signs”
At the intersections.
File me under that caterpillar,
In the wheat field,
Next to hydrangeas on the dinner table
A Sunflower in the spring
The harvested Brown Rice,
So when you make me into a meal I didn’t ask for,
I can be at least eaten by the vegans.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 1:44 AM UTC
I grew up around men
I grew up wanting to be one of them
That in their love and admiration
I'd find affirmation
I grew up with big brothers and cousins
Who's approval I'd seek
Don't think "just cause I'm a girl"
that I'm weak
I'll climb that tree with you
I'll go one branch higher
Whilst you try to put me down
I remember being left out whilst
The boys were on adventures
Because I was "little"
But really cause I was a "girl"
Why can't I go and play football?
Go fish in the crab pool?
Be split into gender roles in p.e in school?
I don't even have ****
I'm terrible at gymnastics
I hate netball
Forcing me to stand still
Whilst the Guys can dribble their way forward to success playing basketball.
Equal rights?
You must think I'm a fool.
I grew up with a resentment towards girls
I grew up disliking myself
Having to be the smartest and wittiest
The kindest and prettiest
When my brother said
you have "queen bee syndrome"
It hit home
Cause I grew up with a love for women
The comfort they bring
But a dislike that I felt reliant on them
Often the ones that would listen
It's tiring to constantly feel like
you're in competition
That for me their strength
seems to threaten
When really it should be inspiration...
So I grow now with a vision
That equality will be achieved
Bit by bit and I'll start with me,
My own mentality
And I don't believe
That put downs are necessary
No hate, no proclamations
Of unshifting patriarchy
This will be done.
If I ever have children
They will each get every opportunity
To be what it is they want to be
I will see to that personally
Cause all these boundaries
just deny possibility
Just think of the world it could be
Cause what lies between your legs
Does NOT determine ability
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 11:09 PM UTC
Enlighten Me-
I’m always underestimating self-master bating-
Graduated-
At the top of fund frustration-
My motivation needs money relations-
The contemplation of money making has my mind at a constant hating-
My breaking patience-
Has my mind like a **** relating-
Regulations of all my banking-
See my bank account disintegrating-
I’m suffocating-making payments-Late fee statements-
Debit-Credit-Cash-oking
Debit-Credit-Cash-oking
Racking bills my back is breaking-my nerves are shaking-
Shaking more than I anticipated-
Now I’m here with a life to fear-
Writing till my mind is clear-
Writing till I feel what’s real-
Writing till I seal a deal-
Multiplying-
Adding-Subtracting-and dividing-
Signing more checks than providing-
It’s suicide I’m not denying-Rhyming trying its crucifying-
Clocking in before the sun is rising Grinding flying hoping griming-living life nine to fiving-
Its re-revising-Re-defining-Rectifying-
More so that I think I’m hiding-
Killing with finical violence-Violating my banks alliance-
Maxing plastic so fantastic now I need some re-advising-interest rates have a grown man crying-Million dollars seem so un-winding-
Now I’m whining-
Constant buying-
Gas rates got me into biking-riding-fighting-
Just surviving-any discount seems so delighting-winning lotto seems o-so-righteous-buy one get one is so exciting-
Boot leg buying I ain’t lying-
Being broke is constant rewinding-It’s reminding-so relying-over drawing is my new binding-it’s confining-so I’m finding-Making takings of my disliking-Making takings that are so dang freighting-dollar scratchers are so inviting-
But this realization is so enlightening-
Moving as fast as a bolt of lighting-
I’m asking you G-d to help me like this-
I’m feeling the pain and I think I might just-
ROB ME A BANK-
BY:
RICHARD ITSKOVICH
Jul 29, 2010
Jul 29, 2010 at 2:57 PM UTC
They have left us scared
They want us under their
societal pressure
They dont want us together
They are disliking our thoughts
Society doesn't want us
to be powerful
so they can remain unopposed
thus making their unfairness proven.
They want you to conform to them
So you are better kept in control
But no one wants to be similar to another!
Society, has ruined a lot.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 11:19 AM UTC
first:
My name doesn't matter. I don't know anyone else who has the same name as me, nor why it's so significant. Any comparisons to other people's works will result in a block.
second:
Comment without liking my poems will result in me just removing your comment. Disliking doesn't really do anything and doesn't notify me. However, a comment with constructive criticism can be addressed through private messages.
third:
If you like or love or both any of my poems, I will try to get back to your poems with equally proportional likes and so ons. Sometimes the site doesn't work and I miss a few. Sorry. However, using suns to light my poems up and make them trend again will not result in reciprocation. I am broke. I also do not repost, so choose to if you want knowing this.
fourth:
Do not put my poems in lists like Worthy to trend or a notch above the daily fluff. I find those lists too pretentious even by my own pretentious standard.
fifth:
I post thank you's a lot because I am genuinely surprised people like my "art" and I can't make it anymore simple. Thank you friends, I had a rough time when I found this site and loved it ever since.
:)
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 7:56 AM UTC
I thrive on liking.
If there's nothing to enjoy
In things, I ignore them.
Move on.
*Where do you get your
Energy*? they ask,
Weary from disliking.
*This ***** He's a ****
This band is terrible.
Surrealism is too unrealistic.
There are no happy endings.
It'll all break down into pieces of
Broken love, burning.
It always does.
He'll let me down in
The end.
They always do.*
If so,
Ignore your losses.
To live a lot, you have to
Hurt a lot.
Move on.
Enjoy more of it next time.
Appreciate. Open yourself.
You'll like more.
You'll hurt less.
You'll love the movement
Of Life dancing
With the
Living.
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
Her heart
has
sprawling roots
topped with
a rad crest
on a
thorny stem
But
his
palms
are
sheltered
with
a
natural
disliking
for
wildflowers
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 10:08 AM UTC
It seems that no matter what I do,
Nobody seems to see me through.
And yet I am still so far,
Far away from what I am trying to reach.
Fearing that I would lose everything,
Existing in my own eyes as not being worthy enough.
Can you not see that I hurt?
Too late for your sympathy...
I thought I had grown weak.
Over and over I couldn't see,
Never realizing what happened to me.
I am a stronger person now!
Never give up!
Always do it your way.
Forget what they think,
For they were only try to bring you down!
Everything that you worked for,
Came from your diligence and determination.
Time will tell you once said,
It's finally time to shine!
Only you can make a difference.
Never look back at the past.... It's history now <3
Thank you for reading my 2 sided story.
Inaffection -
A word I made up. The definition of inaffection is the opposite of affection.
Definition: A feeling of disliking or hatred.
Synonyms: aversion, hate, loathing, abhorrence, pet hate, bete noir, displeasure, disinclination, distaste, disgust, repugnance, antipathy, animosity
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 1:21 PM UTC
Casper Sparrow is a slim, smart and hilarious actor from Ohio. His life is going nowhere until he meets Heather Wishmonger, a handsome, pale woman with a passion for music.
Casper takes an instant disliking to Heather and the spiteful and mean ways she learnt during her years in Europe.
However, when a lion tries to punch Casper, Heather springs to the rescue. Casper begins to notices that Heather is actually rather down to earth at heart.
But, the pressures of Heather's job as a swordsman leave her blind to Casper's affections and Casper takes up reading to try an distract herself.
Finally, when brutal painter, Michelle Blast, threatens to come between them, Heather has to act fast. But will they ever find the passionate love that they deserve?
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 8:12 AM UTC
Do I tell you a secret
Lest you understand it for sure
My disliking of you is
An ailment without cure
Disclosing shared things
With intentions impure
I destroyed them right there
Now an ailment without cure
Ill deeds of thou
Filled my dislike store
And now it doesn't matters
This ailment without cure
|AB|
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 2:34 PM UTC
We're creatures of
dusk. Creatures of dawn
with our skin embedded
with snowflakes.
Your face perfected
so you don't melt
deep in your core
under all the pressure.
There are crows
with necks as broken
as all of your promises
lying in your collar bones.
Secrets kept in your lungs.
Taking up so much space
and rotting so completely
the doctors have called
them tumors.
I fell in love with a knight
who collects kisses
and shared beds with our
kind.
My ways of excitement
got old. So he went in
search of your ice covered
lungs, skin being eaten alive
like his.
You weren't ensnared on his
sharp teeth like I was.
He chewed me up,
but on the attempt to spit
me out my hood got caught
on his canine teeth.
I got lost in the woods.
Found the carcass of
a fox while he got lost in
your purple hair and your
firework display burned
into his memory.
It started off me disliking you.
Then your French Angelfish
looks that caught his attention
attracted mine.
With your whispers in my
ear, finger twisted bridges,
connecting a world I never
thought would of existed.
Planting seeds on my lips,
watering them with your
spit, I can't stay away.
I burn like a wildfire
and you pop like a fire *******
Dusk and dawn
being two different worlds tied
together like our tongues.
My knight has a noose around
my neck as I jump off
a cliff for you.
But for right now we
exist like a Mayan civilization.
Knowledge never touching
the present, but brushing it.
So great it's been forbidden.
But us creatures you see,
our blood runs backwards
and our eyes dilate at the
scent of danger.
Adrenaline, our ******
IV's pumping it into our
artery's.
We've never been the kind
for reading warning signs.
We sway on tight ropes
giggling at our lost balance.
Forbidden isn't in our vocabulary,
our two different worlds touch.
A supernova in the twilight.
We are an astronomers dream.
Take me to Mars.
I'll teach you how to moan
"Astrid" so that Pluto can hear
the echo of dawn and dusk
colliding like the whole nation felt
the twin towers falling.
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 5:20 PM UTC
ancient sized big-beautiful-Butterflies,
shredding my tiny chest, opening my most precious
insides to the warm-wet-world ---
they're flying out of me, wings fluttering
as fast as it takes a star to sprinkle the earth with light
they're dust sprinkling my own body with passion --
Suddenly, a black-eyed-vulture swoops down
from a tear-filled cloud and vacuums the butterflies
into his rotted-wrinkled mouth , disliking their taste ,
spits them out onto the cracked pavement and the
pretty insects are soon squashed by a child's bicycle
leaving only a smear of their guts on the syringed littered sidewalk.
2011 , Levittown
Marilyn Metzger
Sep 25, 2011
Sep 25, 2011 at 11:59 PM UTC
If you think that your passwords are Un-hackable, change them anyway...
In a recent study it is shown that women are 80% more likely than men to use the word "password" as their password. This gives hackers a #1 target. Along with "password" other easy combinations follow "1234" "4321" "123456" etc...
So what do we do to prevent pervs from getting our credit card password and buying all the stuff off of any perverted website...
Think about your password really hard, write down what it is on a private file "in/out of the computer", never ever have the same password for anything.
What is our government doing to make sure that they don't get hacked?
The governments preventative measures to insure that there is no "cyber terrorism" they have hackers hired to literally hack the U.S. Government. Then if they get through (which happens a lot) the government then immediately fixes it.
The way the government is insuring and enforcing security in the country is failing, due to the amount of "supposed" and "legally" obtained land around the world, the more they collect the less smaller the number of people you have to protect the area. The amount of money going into the country itself is much less than what is invested into international military involvement. Why spend so much?
Because Americans have a lot of pride, they think that the world owes it to them because their so rich. Yet the U.S. Has a debt of $19.3 trillion dollars.
Every year the US government spends $598.49 billion dollars, why? Since the US loves to put its big shiny boot into everyone's ***** a lot of people start disliking them, so the US ready to **** it's pants builds up a military that makes them look tougher.
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 3:11 PM UTC
all the INTPs on the internet forums think us
ENFPs are crazy,
but the secret is: deep in your logical hearts,
behind the pretenses created by your ego,
and the smug superiority of the cold unfeeling,
you've blocked out the big picture,
so taken with the idea of analyzing that
you have not seen the layers upon layers of life
and forsaken cliches while forgetting,
there was a reason 'they' started saying them-
I am intelligent-
my emotions have been carefully processed
and approved, and the idea and truth
of emotions has been carefully processed and approved,
I have taken a look at life and poked around
in the bottom of it,
and determined my course of action-
I'm not here for logic or intelligence,
or to exist in a shell of my private world,
offering an occasional analysis of theoretical possibilities.
Logically, there is no real reason to do anything
fun or spiritual at all-
you can be completely alone and that is logical,
you can never leave the house and that is logical,
you can dislike most everything and that is logical,
look, if that's how you want to live your life,
and you're happy,
then fine; but the truth of the matter is,
you have a single life, and within it, you can choose
to be happy and live as fulfilled of an experience as possible.
it is illogical to waste the short years you've got.
it is illogical to spend them unhappy with your situation.
maybe it doesn't seem like wasting to you,
maybe you are happy disliking things,
but if you dislike something, doesn't that mean you
are unhappy with the presence of it?
it makes more logical sense to enjoy things and to
be filled with emotion,
(if you separate yourself and view objectively, that is)
a logical approach to day to day life kills emotion
but a logical approach to values makes you realize you desperately need it,
so if you can detach and apply to your existence as a whole-
there's a perfect reason to die and a perfect reason to live,
but the key is that living produces more endorphins.
so for my own sake,
and within my own values and truth and experience,
I'm here for the ride.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
It is hard to say when she started disliking the
Girl in the mirror.
It was probably about the time they gave her braces.
Surely, she began to take only glances
When she got pimples her hair wouldn’t cover
Try as she did with different lengths and styles.
The worst of it started when her friends began
To round out and she stayed all lines and angles,
Like a child among young women discovering themselves.
It drove her inside herself,
Further from her friends, one of whom
Struck a devastating blow when the Girl overheard
Herself called a pimply stick
Just so a boy of dubious morals would laugh.
She started hanging the towel on her mirror then.
She told her mother it dried better that way.
The woman accepted this
And so the Girl in the mirror locked herself away.
Mirrors cannot show the heart or wit
Or the steadfast love within.
There is only the reflection of beauty soon gone
And cast aside for that.
If only the Girl could see beyond the pale reflection.
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 4:02 PM UTC
I searched for meaning
In religion and philosophy.
Taking on gods and
Prophets.
Gained some wisdom, but
Ended up confused more than
Enlightened.
Lost the little firm footing
I had.
I searched in arts and music.
Interprating. Analyzing.
Enjoying and disliking.
Expressing and being
Alternative. Original.
Outside the box.
All I gained was an unhealthy
Love of wine.
Less meaning than I
Began with.
Some pretentious friends.
More confusion than ever.
So I stopped searching.
Stopped chasing.
Stood still drawing fresh,
Crisp morning air into
My lungs, then felt it travel
To my soul.
I closed my eyes and heard
Her heartbeat through her
Naked chest; her collar bone
Against my temple.
Attuned my own to hers.
Dancing. Still.
Dancing. Still.
Dancing. Still.
Everyday magic.
Adventure within trivialities.
Dirt on the knees of my new
Jeans from recieving a hug from
A five-year-old.
Seeing pride in the eyes of my
Parents from a distance.
Unretainable love
And lust in the eyes of
My woman on a Tuesday afternoon.
No special occation at all.
Just here,
Now.
Us.
No need to struggle.
To search.
To run after anything.
Just relax. Observe. Appreciate.
Love. Long for, then
Enjoy.
Nothing is without reason.
There's meaning in
Everything you sense,
Everywhere you are;
You.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 7:01 AM UTC
A reading at Kenneth Rexroth's bookstore,
Union Street in San Francisco, 1971.
He was incoherently drunk, slurred his poems,
insulted the host, insulted the audience,
hit on the awestricken hippie girls,
delivered every kind of obnoxious possible.
Fortunately, I had read his poems
and arrived prepared to witness his act.
I'd thought his poems were overrated,
I found his persona to be spot on.
At the reception, I drank a beer beside him.
He glanced up, called me a *****
and said he ought to kick my ***
Three weeks back for Vietnam,
I laughed directly into his face.
He turned onto another potential victim.
Instead of some street smart poet,
I saw him as just the flip side
of the New York pretentiousness
he professed to despise.
But everybody loved the clown.
Entire younger generations still do.
Still, I'm sticking to my first impressions.
Only toddlers beg to be worshiped.
Sometimes it feels good to be the odd man out.
~mce
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 4:29 PM UTC