she dresses down during the day,
a pair of swearpants and an oversized flannel,
her soft, curly locks bouncing in a high ponytail.
she's seen as the class hippie, an activist and a seemingly air headed girl.
but what people don't know, is that
this girl is the top of her class.
she's a ditsy, fun girl
by day,
and a baby in lace for her lover
by night.

the desperado cowboy-poet awakes
anxious, needing-ending relief,
the craving greater than great,
he begs-raggedly, with Raggedy handily Andy words,
to all and anyone in the aroused surrounded vicinity,
give please give, of something to write

the bay, soothingly plays the would-be author,
"place me, look my way,
have I not droplets endless
from which you've drunk exquisitely,
so many more to fair share"

the birds twit and flit,
raucous caucus demanding
to be seated
by the tablet's keypad
to gain entry
to one more congressional natural tribute

the sky and sun organize a
joint session, extraordinary mission;
"we are the first of your day,
thus primarily,
we win the primary,
deserving in your recording of our
nomination as the first day's
sound and light show victorious"

sorry folks,
got a better tale to tell,
natural in its way,
titillating, and quite suitable
for reputating Au Naturel humanity
and it's a quirky, say hey tale,
morning coffee fresh,
a first word report from an
untelivised convention
of a different kind of congressing

awoke to find the:

chauffeur in bed with the cook,
the Poppy, beside the sleeping Nana,
the poet, eyeing the lying next to him, tango dancer,
the classicist eyeing the sleeping moderne,
ditty ditsy Ogden Nash astride a Shakesperian sonnet,
the thinning gray line defending his bedded half,
from an invading horde of unionizing blonde tresses,
the republican with the democrat,
the conservative with the liberal,
heated discussions, non-neutralizing negotiations
conducting and watched by
peeping tom skies, clouds, birds and waters
pretending to fly flow past


wow

now that,
is quite interesting
deserving worthy of a
disrobing disputatious disreputation,
very newsworthy and why not,
a poem all its own?

the bay waved goodbye,
the birds disbanded in silence,
quietly disenfranchised.

the sun and the sky hung around
pretending to be UN neutrality observers
wearing cute blue and white helmets
looking every where but not,
at the line of demarcation


the beggar, by his new impoverishment, enriched,
another love poem writ,
niched and pitched
one more itch,
so very well scratched

The first thing went through my mind when I
saw a  beautiful woman was.

1. what does she taste like. Her skin. her mouth. that spot right behind her ear. just inside her ear.
The soft curve of her neck. Her shoulders.  The  junction where ******* meet her arm. That long expanse of her soft belly. Her sweet lips as they parted to allow access. ****,salty, sweet all combined. I could see myself eating all courses slowly savoring.

2. What does she smell like. Not her shampoo or lotion or perfume or body oils. I mean her pheromones.

that deep unique essence of her.That smell at the base of her neck. under her chin her armpits,the hollows of her elbows. her belly button,her beautiful mound, that simmering potion be it ever so slight or close to overstated as I gradually slid down to Taste. To nibble at her taint and stab gently with my tongue. Her ***. That never- never land of sensual convergence.

3. What does she sound like in various modes. Her voice lilting, high pitched, throaty, nasal. he cadence of her speech. her laugh nervous, content, sing-song. early upon waking.so many undulations and coloration's.

4. What does she think like. concise open, flowing restricted, guarded,untrusting, fair, fearful,provocative, sensual, ******,cold, shallow, deep,intelligent, smart,vengeful,hurt,
carefree,calculating,ditsy,unsettled, divided, loving,caring,nurturing.

5. Is she **** or *** or a combo of both.  And what other erogenous hot spots. Which one gets her out of her head and free falling in unabashed ecstasy. Which hollow or crevasse or soft expanse is a fuse. Another ingredient to her potion. how many stimuli could I apply and keep in her sensual Calliope until a thrashing conclusion or a cessation of movement, breathing or sound that will bring her release tumbling down in near syncope.  

6. If she had on no lipstick I would imagine her *******/aereolas/*******. brown, wide, smooth , bumpy, pink,caramel thick long endless.

7. what comes through her eyes. my god her eyes. That is another universe worth of endless research and
books.

Now I don't do the subconscious speed of light hound dog amalgam.

Now I just see the woman and see the woman again.

All is still applicable but is casual thing. third nature even.
God. Thank you for your gifts.
Amen.

Tuck into your suit and power.
Stand tall amongst dwarves.
The ditsy mistress polishes the pleather
Fake sheen, fake ****.
Fake smiles, fake gits.
Cheesy grins all round,
Lap up that cheeky cheddar cheese.
Now onto desert.

It’s been established you aren’t mine.
Yet that doesn’t stop that feeling when I get around you.
Sweaty palms, shaky knees, blood red, goofy smile, ditsy.
My heart beats fast when I talk to you.
Its like we are standing still in time…
The world around us is spinning around at the speed of light.
At night there is a traffic jam in my head,
Thinking of words I should have said…
What if I would have kissed you then?
What if I would have handed you my song book?
What if I would have said that?
Would that have changed any of this?
If I see another chance,
I won’t hesitate.

See it's a strange thing,
"self made men"
It's the rage thing,
"forbes front page t'ing"
A majority that's pacing,
voting for a one percent
that in return enslaves them
My girl used to laugh at my jokes
now I'm broke and she ******* hates 'em

I look for aspects of success and then I stage them  
be sure to colour background facebook page 'em
My rent doesn't reflect my wages that's inflation;
that's what I get for living so close to the station

In this pompous student city covered in glitter
and these ditsy Corpus Christi *******
be getting quicker and quicker and quicker
Don't know how they can afford the liquour
pre-drinks before Ballare movin' on to something bigger

If I see another site with student accommodation
on the hoarding, I might as well go sell my ****;
Start ******* because I'll never make it in this town
I'm one quarter brown and I don't speak Spanish
born in Cranebridge, forced to watch others live lavish
The tourist loves it but a local feels damaged

I am tired of my race being degraded
Because others have bought into their stereotypes
Because you know what
I know a ditsy Asian cheerleader,
I also know an Asian ******* the Science team
One part Times at a Chinese restaurant
The other at the local grocery
I know a black man who is kind and caring
And he works at a bank
I know a black man who thinks he’s entitled to my body
With no job, because two hundred years ago
My ancestor hit his with a whip
I know a Mexican girl who was an anchor baby
Her parents came here illegally and made a life for her
They got their cards a little late, she rides horses on the side
I also know a boy’s who’s parents went through all the right channels
Both are jobless and he’s failing every class
I know white kids who are dumber than a box of rocks
Who think they’ll make a living off of video games and ball
I know white kids who try so hard to rise above
The ignorance of the past
So stop degrading me for your ignorance
Do not define me for the stereotype of my race
And I will not define you for the stereotype of yours
Race is not a definition
Nor does it entitle you to a thing

So none of this “reverse racism” crap
Racism is racism
No matter who it comes from
So let me say again
Race is not your definition
Nor does it entitle you to anything

So what is it I’m feeling now
With my skin aglow and heart aflutter
I’ve never felt quite like this, about someone
who wasn’t created by a writer

This is a new experience
One I’m scared to embrace
Change can have two outcomes
I don’t want to end up a charity case

I think I’d rather stick to my poems
Than chance a broken heart
Words have been enough thus far
Why should I break us apart?

I’m terrified of becoming
One of those ditsy, boy-crazed babes
But I find my world is different
Taken over by a brand new shade

Maybe I’ll take the risk then
What harm could it really do?
Who knows, if I’m lucky
Maybe he’ll like poems too

Sorry this is so long, I just wanted to lay the big problems out there*

I. Forgetting

Why am I forgetting things when I’m only fifteen?
Like, I get being ditsy, and forgetting minor things
But this is different
This causes me to have to make lists of things I can’t forget
(But what if I forget something that needs to go on the Forget List?)
And instead of practicing my dances
Just once every week, like the rest of my team
I have to practice every night
Or I’ll forget
And I can’t remember lyrics for the songs we have to sing
So I have to sing my songs over and over
Or I’ll forget
I just don’t get it
My memory is slipping and I’m only fifteen

II. Anxious

I can’t just sit in a car calmly
Because when we are a car away from the car ahead
It’s too close, we’re gonna crash
And from that crash, I can imagine all the ways I will die
If I get an F on this next test
That F will stand for everything
I’ll fail at life
And from that F, I can imagine all the ways I will die stupid
If I don’t talk in this conversation
No one will like me
And if I do talk they won’t like me either
And from this do or do not, I can imagine all the ways I will die stupid and alone
I don’t need a reason why, or how
But I can imagine all the ways I will die

III. Stressed

I don’t want to go home
Because my family is awful, and they don’t want me anyway
So I don’t go home
At least, I postpone it
I add to the list of things to do
Add show choir, add oral interpretation
Add play, add study buddy, add random projects
Just to keep me out of the house
And then add more complications
Like, I’m bisexual, and have only come out to my friends
Like, I’m pretty sure my sister is a gender specific homophobe
Like, I have to figure out when to fit my dad’s house to my schedule
Like, my dad has been awful to me here lately anyway
Like, my friends all have drama
Like, they always expect me to solve it
Like, everyone thinks I am perfect
Like, I think I need to convince them that they’re right
It keeps adding
And adding
And adding some more

IV. Sad

I’m always sad
Some mornings I wake up and can’t get out of bed
Not because I can’t physically get out of bed
It’s just that I can’t mentally get out of bed
Because I’m always sad
And I have all these happy moments
That are all masked by this sadness
And this sadness is all masked by this happy face
Because the second someone even thinks for a minute
That Perfect Reagan is broken
Is the same second that the people who do want me, won’t want me
Perfect Reagan is dysfunctional
And cracked in many spots
Because Perfect Reagan
Is also Sad Reagan
And she can’t escape it
So she hides behind her domino
And when that fails
All she has to do is make a new one
So yes, Perfect Reagan has happy moments
But they are hidden away, overpowered, and shut down by sadness
And the sadness is hidden away, overpowered, and shut down by the mask
It just takes a while to get the false face to work
Like painting red walls white
The red is bound to bleed through
Just like the sadness is bound to seep through