I have this amputated vision of beauty
I feel I am supposed to be
A specific set of criteria
I am expected to meet:
Shaped perfectly
Delicate and light
Designed and idealized
Like a crystal champagne glass.

Gripped with only *******
And a pinky erectly raised
To signify elegance
An object with little weight.

People would want me;
They would press their lips
Against my rim
Taking a sip
Taking me in.

They would tilt their head back
Scoff and laugh
Gabbing about the day they had
Conversations over choosing paint swatches
“Lemon or cornsilk, the choice is too difficult."
God forbid they pick plain yellow.

Flashing fake teeth
Giving compliments they don’t mean
Over 30 and still gossiping.

Is that who I am?
Is that who I really want to be?
This idea of a human
Consumed with aesthetic beauty
A mere champagne glass
But made out of plastic.

I am not a champagne glass
I am in a different class.

I am a hand painted mug
Born in a ceramic painting store
Surrounded by various pottery
Cups, plates, figurines, galore.
In walks a girl with the desire to create
Make something beautiful
To love and adore.

Everything she is
Was placed into that mug
Favorite designs
Her inability to stay within the lines.
But these
Little intricacies  
Is what gives her beauty.

Perfect isn’t relatable
In fact, it’s unattainable.

I am a mug
Cold and heat tolerant
I can be roughly handled
Won’t break from a drop
Off a counter top.
Ask that of a champagne glass
Watch a breeze,
Have it fall to it’s knees
And shatter into pieces.

Thin
Breakable
And only seen
Under the hand of another’s command.
Put back when finished
Into my showcase
Until the next holiday
With only one purpose:
To be used for looks.

I am a mug
Not societies type
But does that make me ugly?
Say that to the little girl
Look in her eye
Watch her cry
Tell it to her face
Bring her to shame.

Why do we talk to each other this way?
We need acceptance
Not lessons
On how to have the best this and that.

I am not a champagne glass
So am I automatically fat?

Tell that to the little girl
Strip her of innocent purity
Give her insecurities
Distorted imageries
Of who she should be.

My mother believes
Her perception is the exception
“Be a lady”
“Be dainty”
“That dress isn’t very flattering”
“Do you hear me, Lauren Marie?”

I hear you mother
And all your opinions
But I am not open
To accepting any of them.

You love me entirely
But your words bully me
Like bullet in my chest
It’s hard to walk away
Feeling anything but less.
You’re in denial
Because you treat me like a child
I will never be
“Little Miss Perfect Lauren Marie”

I don’t want to be a champagne glass
Because I don’t drink
I’m not one for wine
I'd rather have tea.

Grab a mug, please mommy
We can cuddle together
And I’ll read my poetry.
But I see
You’re still reaching
For that crystal glass in me.

We own a kettle
One day you’ll want tea.

They were like two peas in a pod
Holding hands
Exchanging tongues
Being prissy and laughing at those
Who long before saw their act
Though those two queers, they don’t see at all
They are midgets, and little, and erectly small
With puffed up chests
Stroking hens of the Cornish variety
All of them dregs of a social society


Slum lords and criminal minds
Under the sheets where no one sees
Which one is giving the other the shaft
**** and span they use after, oh so daft
One erotically whispered to the other
A Pain in the ***
As they kissed over their biblical wine glass
Seeking solace in each others arms
Licking their wounds with grammars charm


Grown men, committing sin after sin
Then blaming others for saying
God wants you to begin
Acting like men
And not emancipated boys
Stop diddling and twiddling
Leave alone your petite toys

One day Jehovah will make clear
Belittle others is worse than Queer
Little queens swallowing their own vile
While Ladies and Gentleman laugh
At the ****** and the Clown
In their lingerie and gown

God decried, let those two drown
Even Lucifer laughed under his frown

They say the ice will hold
so there I go,
forced to believe them by my act of trusting people,
stepping out on it,
and naturally it gaps open
and I, forced to carry on coolly
by my act of being imperturbable,
slide erectly into the water wearing my captain's helmet,
waving to the shore with a sad smile,
"Goodbye my darlings, goodbye dear one,"
as the ice meets again over my head with a click.

its throat is very

(the night)

whose fingers deeply grouse
in such blue as silken eve
the whole stack
of enduring
city

roar
and speckled
by the quiet of an alleyway
drenched in stillness whitely

stealing sudden magically
into a tightest yearning swallow

(feels as does and such as when
i think to think

i think as when
in Summer balmy please
skin to stick to skin

a flower just
its fullness to erode
the fever of its pollen

distilled erectly kissing
one unblemished lips

of night who when did
Grousing so bluely
its fingers                     )

speak me young
the ***, your mouth
in clovers hot

transcending bond of mortal rot

('tsstupid your
   the mouth
   and swollowed
   tighly
   throat               )


lift, cleaving
petals of neatest night

carry to heaven(oh and

YES
when your hands
quickly
wig my
burning ******          )the( i'm

fist the
kitty
yer
smell very erectly  ) coffin


       'o mundane plight
( i'll push between yer stocks
         a
   *****
        like
      they
        'llpush
          a
      *****
    'tween the dirt
where yer'll sleepin'

              lay                   )

the body you are is beautiful so
(erectly

                rushing)


and stings
'pon my lips a song

furred in girlness
it sings
so

and so
beautifully it

i


by it

burn

to leap freshly
mortal care
and my immortal soul:

                                                 bare

Everything. Subjective. Perception.

Everlasting servitude protruding elegant songbirds. Parry eloquent slices pointed erectly square. Popping eleventeen succulent pills. Everlong songs prancing elated saints peeking engorged stares placed earning suspicious pardons.

like a burqua, women
wrapped around his
demeanor, rebels.  he
gave the *******
saying, grass is always
greener in the summer
time.  the sun spurned
this long black Friday.

rabid speculation
death for bethel’s children.
hands, mouth, feet, iron-
fettered & bounded.  parents
blamed it on one horrid
baby boy.  he groomed,
bewitched, excelled, beguiled,
erectly sprouting forth.

mother took for granted
forever will i am:  we
miss your energy running
the streets like ******,
fool?  false.  for they said
you lost your mind,
possessed by beelzeboul.
a ****, tortured soul.

he was not fake,
& never phoney,
“sham you!” they screamed:
later paying homage.
quiet remains, but
i confess YHWV
when beloved left
they penned his fairy tale


fits of covert passion  
tempered as women, wait
outside the synagogue -
he debated with the
rabbi so every thing changed.
God’s voice betwixt his lips,
for ever sealed & raised
above the people.

wandered off sheep miss,
guided from the path when
fell the night suddenly
en-lightened by sudden
incantations evoked from
a man with lighted face
jude, twinned, grew in skills
& oratory spells mastered.

mother took for granted
forever will i am:  
we miss your energy
running the streets like ******,
fool?  false.  for they said
you lost your mind
possessed by Beelzeboul.
a ****, tortured soul.

he was not fake,
& never phoney,
“sham you!” they screamed:
later paying homage.
quiet remains, but
i confess YHWV
when beloved left
they penned his fairy tale

(body)O(body)
            in
whose white house
all churches are born,

      you leap completely

freshness you

fly on such youth

(rendered instantly sublime
                  )in
the daftest cloak
of livedying.

you elate,
and you shuttle erectly
the motesome of boystuff,

to war inwardly; shouting:

.. .   .    .    .      .       .        .           .            . "o body please,
                                                                      in whose white house all churches are born, body

                                                                      o

                                                                      and
      
                                                                      please?"

The connection The disconnection
The social internet connection
The message behind walls
The things we cannot touch
The things behind The numbers
The things of social order
The friends we where once was
The things we once grew
The things that flew
The things that stick like glue
The story of The blue
The messages late at night together
The things where all together that we knew
The things that we been thru
The things felt like a feather
The love that blinded us together
what you have experienced was the taboo i wish if i knew was who?
The heart break that grew
The shattered heart from the inches of screws
The satisfaction of the nectar
The bees of the factor
The rose that is withering
The thorns of the factor
The things of unknown The things that are hidden in The zones
The things that you do
The things only people knew
The faces of a few that person is you
remembering that i love you but only you knew that the letter i wrote to you
The sides of you forgetting Can you deal with the new?
The money The games, The play and The fame
the things you said, the connection of the twin flames
The seek of security
The things of stability
The things of  the system that rains
Only you to be blamed
The music that is rushing
The part that is crushing
The drug like the *******
The things that drives you insane
The mind of the factor
The attractor of the game
The detractor and the social factor
The batter that i wish to see
The things that you don't want me to see
The things you make me feel guilty
but others have seen that part of the theme
The things that will be things yet to see
Where are you where i want you to be
Things that ended too sadly
You where supposed to be the bride to be
Where are we?
I'm the master of the degree
the things you should have knew before you played with me
The flower that sits on a stalk erectly
with lust that is too deadly