"excellent" poems
Wind blowing, leaves falling
In the woods I am walking
Birds chirping, squirrels digging
Not stopping my mind from wandering
Fashion walks, beach resorts
Nice weather, beautiful people
City breaks, country retreats
Exotic animals, spiders and snakes
Mona Lisa, The last supper
Beautiful art, beautiful mind
Excellent artists are hard to find
Beautiful things everywhere
open your eyes, happiness is right their
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
Oh, woman, dear, don’t be so insecure;
You’re only hurting yourself when you are insecure.
Look at the mirror and see how beautiful you are,
You don’t need to feel bad and to be insecure.
When you see others smile and happy in their lives,
Can’t you just smile for them and not feel insecure?
When someone deserves a prize, an award for his deed,
Would you aim to claim it because you’re insecure?
When someone stands now in a place where you dream,
Would you pull him down there when you feel insure?
When someone’s being praised for an excellent work,
Would you make some sour grapes- deeds of an insecure?
Yes, you are stealing a moment of your own joy,
Every moment that you’re jealous and you feel insecure.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 5:39 AM UTC
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities...
*that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who knows the when and why of differing
cuddling styles...
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who knows when to leave a man alone
alone in his man-mourning time,
distance needed,
letting his ex-rage dissipate or
watching his red and blue football
redefine ignominy...
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when the man low whistles, eyes adrift,
she heartily agrees and is
reciprocity rewarded regularly
with hunk alerts of
"hey-check-him-out!"
that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
a tigress in the bedroom
she asking, try this, I'll love it,
served with a desert demo of awkward afterward,
his less-than-perfect cuddling abilities
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who doesn't abhor partner silences,
comforting they are, in their own ways,
lying side by side, interrupted only by peccadillo body noises unexpected and
sheepish apologies and loving arm stroking
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who lets the man roar, top of voice,
when imprisoned in car,
his voice, un enfant terrible,
performs with Creedence Clearwater
a sing-a-long in traffic, asking
"Have you ever seen the rain"
while amidst Israel-leaving-Egypt
Sunday beach traffic on the L.I.E.
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
when it's pheromones alternative mode day,
he celebrates Carole King day,
she demonstrates her cuddling abilities,
par excellence, with kisses and tissues
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities...
a woman, plain confident in her abilities
no matter the situational status,
when confronted by
less-than-crazy-impetuous,
she smiling says "why not,"
when he proposes,
a movie and dinner in a fav haunt?
"plenty excellent enough" her answer,
spoke in a rising voice
full of unfeigned delight
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
accepting the unexpected airport embrace
on a moving sidewalk, unexpected delays
with the aplomb of a well lived life's
long term sustainability perspective
when he kisses her hand for no reason,
while driving 75 miles per hour,
she only winces internally,
the other hand vise-grasping
the other door's handle,
who brushes hair wisps in a dark movie,
celebrating her Bathsheba Everdeen's
duality of strength and tenderness
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when on second date he proposes
a non-exclusive relationship,
confident enough to high-five respond,
and laugh about it,
seven years on
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when she reads it,
analyzing the oeuvre as
"too **** personal and
as usual
too **** long"*
that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her
cuddling abilities
in everything...
even a little occasional criticism
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
for Tascha
deep in the pond of unhappy, swimming,
drowning the next contemporaneous
depression thought quickly swallowed,
desperation in quick glances everywhere,
dawn is no consolation but just another
daily drawing tighter of twine cutting
disillusionment
dear god, commences every thought,
delayed answers have yet to arrive,
**** the deity's non-responsivness,
dare not say out loud lest,
deserved fates be worse, be realized,
didn't know? how can that be?
disguiser par excellent, I am the original
deceiver
But I never think about
death or dying, for that would be
defeat finale, a statute to, a status of none, a
destiny some wick spark, still insists can be
deferred
differed always,
diffidently, but grasping yet at the
double entendre that is my
dark vision of a future already past
May 2015
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 4:45 PM UTC
My favorite # 1 Life experiences enhancer stress and pain reliever the magical psychotropic attributes it has makes me go loco. Cannabis Sativa/Indica or Hybrid I love it all...the only bud I won't smoke is "Reggies" that seedy nasty **** It gives me a headache. All other qualities strains and methods of ingesting or using marijuana welcome. The *** oil is so strong yet so dreamy and good. All around is excellent medicine and I will always remain to use it even after I quit my other habits. Makes people rejoice and come together happily with each other and commune and be kind to each other respectful to each other. That is what u love about cannabis.
PotHead4 Life 4/20Friendly
©Franko the Christian Poet
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 6:00 AM UTC
Towns are shimmering,
gleaming like Christmas lights,
illuminating the midnight sky.
Kerosene and oxygen, Congratulations
for an excellent performance
on the roofs, windows and walls.
Parties were thrown to celebrate life
by destroying everything that was venerable.
Tussling with each other
on whose new growth to enforce.
It was then, when **** hit the fan
that the people finally gave a ****
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 2:36 AM UTC
Hello there to the greatest girl
Everything about you sends my mind for a whirl
I bet you weren’t expecting that rhyme
I hope it won’t be considered a crime (excellent vocab)
Well I hope you enjoy every poem I write for you
bringing you great joy and happiness is what i strive to do
I believe the girl that is the best of the best
deserved to be treated like a princess
Jillian, you are my loving princess, so beautiful and kind
you are better than all them disney princesses combined
It would be as if we were on a magic carpet ride,
I will always want you by my side
Now wouldn’t it be pretty cute
If i just keep making these lines
with the disney princesses as the root?
I think it would be, so lets
As the prince was so determined to find
the beautiful girl that had left her shoe
As am i equally determined
to bring joy to the equivalently beautiful that is you
As the girl that swam like a fish under the sea
sacrificed so much so she could be with her love
As I am just as prepared to make sacrifices
for it to always be you and me
As the love that a man and a woman had was forbidden
yet they did not listen to what others said
As will i love you
No matter what anyone else says
As the beautiful girl and the beast of a man,
did not care about appearance and became together
For she took the time to get to know how great he truly was,
As you did with me.
This i will thank and treasure forever.
As the girl with the flowing blonde hair
and the thief that at first didn’t care,
came together to make an adorable couple,
Well, honestly I just wanted to compare her hair to your hair, they are both FABULOUUUUUUS
So you see Jillian,
I think the world of you.
I know i didn’t get sleeping beauty or snow white,
I just don’t believe you’d be put to sleep or poisoned with fruit.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 1:13 PM UTC
You don't see me but I am
There, I have numerous ways
To take you,
Hold you,
Control you,
You'll not even know
I was there,
I am a conqueror of flesh.
Feeling...
Sickly, siphoned, strained
Both body and my brain
Doctor said it's just a cold
Nothing but a passing pain
Is this hypochondria,
Or is there something in my veins?
Your insides are my playground
To cause you much anguish & pain
I'll infect you slowly at first,
Have a little fun within your
Organs
Muscles
Thoughts
I aim to control, invisible
To the eye, but you know
I'm in here, your losing control.
Today I coughed up blood
Cold sweats come in floods
I'm drowning in my own bed
As I clutch my feverish head
There's an inferno in my skull
I'm taking Vicodin to null
Whatever it is eating at me
I know I'll be better in a week.
You apes think size is intelligence,
This was your undoing from the start,
I replicate myself, as its my time to move on,
I leave apart of myself here
As its time too
Infect
Multiple
Spread
My gift to those around,
You sneezed
You coughed
Upon your sweat, I am
Now on everything you touch,
Time to end the play,
"Business calls"
Be Proud of your self
Patient Zero, dear human
You were my first,
But its time for me to move on...
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
What a city I murmur to myself looking at its map.
We approached the city known as Dis,
with its vast army and its burdened citizens.
At last we reached the moats
dug deep around the dismal city.
What destroys the poetry of a city?
Automobiles destroy it,
and they destroy more than the poetry.
Dante and Virgil chased by 7 or 8 dangerous devils
Grumpy, Happy, Sneezy, Sleepy, ***** . . .
Our heroes reduced from metaphysical philosophers
interested in god and what man has done to man
to improvising primitive tools for survival.
Hope abandoned, we rate our chances of expiring
in the nuclear fire – excellent –
during the decline of western civilization.
On the other hand, I hope
our current problems are only temporary
and it’s just a matter of time before
the public ignores the 24-hour news cycle.
Bad news sells but the good life’s all around us.
One feels love and devotion
even for the 60 million who voted for our opponent.
Vaclav Havel said with a wisdom well beyond brilliance:
“Either we have hope within us or we don’t.
It is a dimension of the soul, and it’s not dependent
on some particular observation of the world or estimate of the situation.
It is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart
that transcends the world as it’s immediately experienced.
It is not the conviction that something will turn out well,
but the certainty that something makes sense
no matter how it turns out.”
It resembles grief. But it's not quite grief. I'll give you grief.
Certain days planned to be eventful I look forward to for weeks.
Let the peaceful transfer of power proceed. The sorrow and the pity.
Never may the anarchic man find rest at my hearth.
When the laws are kept, how proudly the city stands!
When the laws are broken, what of the city then?
We are moving through some allegory between a City of Hope,
where history has been abolished, and a City of History,
where hope can be slipped in only as contraband.
Failing to achieve understanding, we're searching
outer space for an entity to unite us as humanity.
That person, or city, is consciousness.
Two ancient female poets are a revelation,
the clarity of their complaints: lost lover, lost city.
Our enemy eventually becomes our brother,
his misery lifted by coming to her city.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 9:23 AM UTC
They say marriage is all about compromise. If that's the case, newlyweds Kia Parsons and Billy Bunning are off to an excellent start.
The UK couple had different visions when it came to their wedding cake; the bride wanted an all-white tiered cake with cascading sugar flowers. The groom, on the other hand, wanted to incorporate his love of comic book superheroes into the confection. So they met somewhere in the middle:
Julia Baker of Tier by Tier cake design created the cake for the couple's August 14 wedding in Milton Keynes, England. One side is the traditional-looking cake the bride wanted. On the other side, icing curtains reveal the logos of Marvel characters Captain America, Spider-Man and Iron Man, as well as Batman from the DC Comics camp.
"I loved every minute making this cake, as I knew it would be something that people would be surprised at and appeal to all the Marvel fans!" Julia told The Huffington Post.
In all, she spent 40 hours on the cake. It took 12 hours to make the sugar flowers, and the cake-baking and building took about 28 hours.
Needless to say, Kia and Billy were thrilled with the finished product.
"Julia did such a fantastic job and we were completely overwhelmed by how brilliant it looked!" the bride told HuffPost. "From most angles of the room, the cake looked like a traditional wedding cake -- just what we had wanted. It wasn't until the cake was moved for us to cut that our guests realized there was a hidden extra. Some didn't even realize until the photos went online after the wedding!"
On Tuesday, a photo of the cake began going viral when it was shared by the Life Of Dad Facebook page.
"I was surprised at how popular it was and how quickly the pictures circulated on social media," Julia said. "I have plenty more ideas to work on and I am calling these 'double-take cakes.'"
read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth
www.marieaustralia.com/white-formal-dresses
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
I’m happy
(I’m depressed)
I love myself
(I hate myself)
I can’t wait to live my life
(I can’t wait to die)
I am lucky to have my friends
(why do they even like me?)
I have a family who loves me
(and I continue to disappoint them)
I am an excellent student
(I can’t focus in school)
I want to travel the world
(will I even live to do that?)
I’m fine
(I’m not fine)
I’m perfectly okay
(please help me)
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 8:46 PM UTC
I really am an excellent liar
But I can't seem to convince myself
That I'm no longer interested
In your quickening heartbeat
Or the taste of your tongue
Or how your mind works
When you're trying to fall asleep
At night.
I can't decide
If you're careless
Or clueless
But it drives me insane
Knowing that you're laying down
All alone.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC
829
Ample make this Bed—
Make this Bed with Awe—
In it wait till Judgment break
Excellent and Fair.
Be its Mattress straight—
Be its Pillow round—
Let no Sunrise’ yellow noise
Interrupt this Ground—
7.9k
#*A passionate dancer , excellent teacher
You possess an innate quality of a master
The one with a discerning nature
You understand the heart of your students
With your dance moves you are prudent
Positive energy flows through the dance floor
when you say one two three four
To the music I can dance
Folk , never took a chance
You taught the moves and grooves
My fear has gone without a trace
And someday will learn some grace
On the dance floor
Like a bright star you shone
Sure , one day you will
Run a Academy of your own*#
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 8:02 AM UTC
Ask...and you shall be given answers
seek...and you'll be told where to look
knock...say, hello?...hello? hellooow?
a voice named siri replies:
"is it me you're looking for?"
i think,
the eyes, the mind, even the heart, need
clear, goggle-like glasses, for 20/20 vision,
to grasp, to discern, be forewarned,
not to be overwhelmed by whatever
data unfolds on the screen
they say, there are contrived solutions,
for life's every complication
search engines are accessible to all
just press specific keys, and, Voila!
surf, play...easy games, easy friends
but, can they really answer all questions?
every human question?.........like,
do elephants really cry? how did it occur
that they have excellent memories?
is Timbuktu modernized now?
are there still surviving cannibals?
will the remaining Bee Gees member,
tell us how to mend a broken heart?
do rosicrucians really possess secret wisdom?
what happened to you and me?
how do i save myself from emotional vampires?
how do i cook pad thai?
...and how do i get you out of my mind?
why does the rooster crow after midnight
how does logarithm work with poetry?
do dogs have souls? do they visit their
masters?....i miss my dogs Misty and Tiny,
...and i miss you...what's wrong with me?
God, why do i even bother to ask?
my goggled eyes are blinded by grief
my goggled mind refuses to forget
this goggled life of mine feels empty
and it has nothing to do with technology...
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 23, 2018
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 10:50 PM UTC
Life gets better - so much better that
you wouldn’t believe me if I told you
but before that happens
you’ll learn some lessons
some of them will be fun
others bitter medicine
swallow them though
they’ll make you strong
don’t beat yourself up so much
don’t put yourself down
you are actually pretty awesome
don’t obsess so much about being the best
the less you do that the better you’ll become
there is no such thing as “perfect”
but you will be excellent
you’ll be quite an overachiever – even when you don’t try!
You already know what you want to do
Not many 15 year olds have that kind of clarity!
You’re a rare, unique one – you’ll do exactly what you dream to do.
But there will be speed bumps
You’ll lose your way sometimes
and confused Gemini that you are-
you’ll always want both sides of everything
but you’ll figure that out eventually
you will never be as thin as you want to be
but you’ll learn to appreciate your body
just as it is
you’ll find you look beautiful when you smile
you’ll have a job you hate, and one that you love
you’ll do well in both-
much to other people’s envy
you’ll mostly have good bosses
you’ll never have a boyfriend, your marriage will be arranged
but you will find love-the love of a good man
who will stand by you even when things go wrong
he won’t at all be like the man of your dreams
but he will be exactly what you need-he’ll make you happy!
what I’m trying to tell you darling-
is that in ten years all the stuff you’re worrying about won’t matter
you’ll find new things to fuss over.
High school will be a distant land
That you would have left behind
The bullies who trouble you now
won’t be anywhere near
you’ll see that its okay
to be an introvert in an extraverted world
you’ll make a handful of super-friends
who you can trust and who care
and many acquaintances who don’t mind your company
but there will be some who you can’t trust
some who will take advantage of your kindness
ignore them and move on
there is more important stuff to take care of!
your writing will get better; you’ll be a super cook,
you’ll never like sports-stop trying to
its just not you!
in a few years time
you’ll be touching lives
and changing them for the better
you’ll be a teacher and a student
all at once
you’ll inspire and influence
so don’t give up on life yet-
don’t be so depressed
wear a smile and face the world
your life is going to be all set!
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
08.09.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Sep 8, 2012
Sep 8, 2012 at 12:25 PM UTC
A follow on poem to 'In the Sunroom (Suicide)" (1)
writ many years later...
~For MWK~
<>
A stray thought. a burring burrowing, thorny tawny:
A wish, yet to get, but vetted for each of us.
*This within, this redoubt, a contemplative oasis,
my indoor poet's nookery rookery sanctuary
each one, each is, deserves, all, one such,
a place holy filled, with lice and dirt of a life,
strained and trained for emission and transmission
of the best of the worst, and the triumphant emergent commission of
our individualized most excellent fresh best
where crumbs of apple crisp pie solidify, vanilla bean ice cream
melt offsets the oven heated warmth, and from this interactive
contrasts combative,
a poem pie reborn, newly disguised, familiar words,
yet unheard and before this very never,
went unspoken and now goes forth
svelte and unbroken
*rhymes of yore, forgot from a before, but making up the walls
of the here and now,
a sunroom to spread out the lit lights of egress and entrance,
of fire door no exits that now are chiseled closed,
lock in, lock up, and somehow, one, stills to learn from
the stilling quiet solitude.
to penetrate the prostrate kneeling grinning grief,
how to expel and spell the words
that grant
relief
visit my sunroom, though no fiction.
the sun rays *********** create the friction
of that which cannot ever be withered nor contained,
and your mouth opens wide and a poem birthed and delivered,
pastiche paste composted of truth and dreams of fiction, fine diction,
with a shrug, a smile, a satisfaction extracted extraordinary,
you garner moments of satisfaction but cloud cover returns,
and the process of sunrise exposition recommences,
and one revisits the elemental sequencing of
all the predecessor pain, but this time,
for gain, for gain,
<>
written this sabbath Saturday
12:38am EST
Sat Aug 2
2025
in the sunroom,
on Shelter Island
Aug 2, 2025
Aug 2, 2025 at 12:59 AM UTC
The chocolate digestive is a marvel of invention
Custard creams are sickly, but worthy of a mention
Shortbread can be gritty, steer clear of the cheap ones
For if you love your biscuits, your pockets must be deep ones
For perfect dunkability, the hobnob leads the field
But prone to going chewy if their packet isn't sealed
Bourbon creams can satisfy when nothing else is offered
Avert your eyes from pretzels, no matter how they're proffered
The lowly Garibaldi is an underrated treasure
A macaroon is excellent for eating at your leisure
Enjoy the home made cookies and the chocolate crispy nests
And save a pack of party rings for fobbing off on guests
But biscuits can be functional, with keen survival craft
A packet of pink wafers can be used to make a raft
Penguins can be hollowed out and used to smuggle crack
And if you throw a ginger nut, you'll always get it back
A Jaffa cake is handy as a snowboard for a spider
And flapjacks are a sustenance and energy provider
Wagon wheels are lethal when they're wielded by a ninja
Brandy snaps cure cancer with a tiny hint of ginger
Experiment with biscuits, they're a versatile thing
Try horizontal dunking or the highland shortbread fling
Keep a packet stashed away for when the end is nigh
And always have the kettle full, and milk in good supply
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
There once was a fellow from Nantucket
Who blew an excellent trumpet tucket
His toot ***** sounded so grand
As he lead the college band
Grand trumpet tuckets tooted in Nantucket
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 6:02 PM UTC
"hell yeah?" the burglar asked the pusher.
(the burglar: wirily, ambitious. plain appearance, dressed in black.
the pusher: wealthy, strong and well-conditioned. sumptuous leather jacket.)
"hell yeah", the pusher answered. "now i got what i like and you got what you need."
both grinned. after a day of extensive work, they relaxed in a hellish pub. it was visited by diplomatic creatures whose faces were recognizable like shadows.
this pub was called babylon 8.
the burglar and the pusher touched glasses to celebrate their deal. they drank.
"nothing to be written down",
the pusher added. burglar nodded. voices of the diplomatic creatures surrounding them; satanic sighs; bold laughter; their sentences sounded like orders that are dictated by judges.
snakes and rats. gravelpitbulls and red cats. creatures with excellent memory. guys who swallow their plans after they had learned them by heart.
a while later, a lady entered the pub: adorable like a man's fantasy; imitable like a woman's strategy. her hair color was your desire; her skin color the color of your dreams.
her name was fantasy girl.
suddenly, the lights went out; suddenly, a lightblue sun illuminated the room. no one noticed. everyone so busy hiding something that nothing was hid.
the creatures of babylon 8 therefore didn't perceive the light.
fantasy girl ordered a drink. she told the bartender: "i need freedom. that's what i want from you, the people of babylon 8."
the bartender a giant with a face full of shining scars; his right ear missing; flashy shirt; an ancient first name; speaker of all world languages combined: the omerta.
fantasy girl took a sip from a silver brew which had been served to her by the bartender. she took out a single match and there was no box; a long cigarette between her unknown lips.
bartender looked at fantasy girl. without saying a word, he turned his stubble cheek into her direction. fantasy girl lighted the match.
lightblue fire. inhaling. smoke. iceblue cloud.
the burglar and the pusher had been looking at fantasy girl all the time.
fantasy girl held a white fountain pen and took a black sheet out of a green handbag. she began to write.
Dec 15, 2019
Dec 15, 2019 at 10:12 AM UTC
*when the moon writhe and crawling the silent night..
it was time to layover yearning who clotted for sweetheart..
when the sun excited to greet the morning ..
it was time to embed cheerfulness on the idol of conscience..
sprinkle knitted heart turmoil and dew drops each cavity of jasmine petals ..
i greet to you, my dearest sister..
each twist will crease beautiful crowded heart longing ..
so that relieved you feel full carefree breathing..
with the presence of me,
i will fulfill your every drought in the lake of your worries ..
i will treat every your petulant in lap with more excellent attention ...
return back to you as always, my dearest sister..
to pulling the curtain the recesses of the heart that always hiding ..
to wrapping blush smolder desire in your heart arms ..
because your bliss, my dearest sister..
it's most beautiful thing that can i enjoy ever ..*
-the poetry is dedicated to a sincere friend of mine, Ha-
┈┈┈┈┈»̶·̵̭̌✽✽·̵̭̌«̶ ƦУ »̶·̵̭̌✽✽·̵̭̌«̶┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
adinda
kala sang rembulan menggeliat merayapi malam sunyi..
tibalah waktu untuk menyinggahi gigilnya kerinduan sang kekasih sanubari..
kala sang mentari bersemangat menyambut pagi ..
tibalah waktu untuk menyematkan kecerian pada sang pujaan nurani..
menyemaikan untaian gejolak kalbu dan meneteskan embun disetiap rongga kelopak melati..
kusambut darimu, adinda...
setiap simpul lipatan hati yang sesak akan indahnya kerinduan..
agar terasa lega engkau bernafas penuh riang..
bersama hadirku,
kan kupenuhi setiap kekeringan ditelaga keresahanmu..
kan kumanjakan setiap rajukanmu dipangkuan perhatian nan syahdu...
berpulang selalu kepadamu, adinda..
untuk menyibakan tirai pada relung hati yang selalu bersembunyi..
untuk membalut rona kerinduanmu yang membara dalam dekapan hati ..
kerena bahagiamu, adinda...
adalah merupakan hal terindah yang dapat kunikmati..
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC
I am excellent.
Not because I conform
To someone else's standards,
Beliefs, or expectations of me,
But because I choose to live with integrity.
I strive to be the best I can be
Without expecting perfection.
As I am also human.
I falter and fail.
But failure is not the absence of excellence,
It is simply the cataracts that cloud my eyes
And prevent me from seeing
My own arete.
For when I look in the mirror,
All I see is dark spots, blemishes.
And no matter the angle from which I view,
I am inferior, a mistake.
I must first accept my perfect imperfection
And ask for help,
Before the flawed lenses with which I was born
Can be replaced,
And I can finally see with unwavering clarity
That I am a person of worth.
I have significance.
And though I may not always trust
What I know to be true,
It is my intrinsic value as a being,
And not a doing,
That makes me excellent.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 2:28 PM UTC
Ballerina stance leaner
porcelain poised demeanor
lined up for a chance at that old 500 gram repeater.
Yeah, a little firecracker,
a little fire eater.
Twiggy figure, ****** fire dome where her little wires teeter.
Excellent muse material
my ***** optics viewed ethereal
Beauty, and she knew it.
Arrogance.
Noted, duly.
Pittsburgh's resident fire ant, with a grace to match her face
And a whole crew of troglodytes racing to get a taste
So thanks Angela Chase;
I prefer the fantasy too.
And thanks to you my chickens won't be sleeping easy in their coup.
Loop Jabberwocky with Calligraphy
and dabbled in polygamy. purpose:
****** cyst bubbles to the surface.
Misinterpret the tongue touching and hand clutching,
you were baby girlie thumb-sucking
But thought more than twice about it when it came to dumb-fucking.
Pretty face: check
Depression: not yet
Appreciating phonemes, but still a nervous wreck
false carrot tops to bed, awkward with the ***** work.
Near waif redhead. Pittsburgh Boys. the city lurks
It's been a minute since the girl scouts got at me, I bought it.
Hop in the DeLorean tell Lauren that I'm off it.
Mar 16, 2010
Mar 16, 2010 at 2:47 PM UTC
Peter Pan said Wendy -
There's something I want to tell you.
I am neither straight nor bent
But what you might call bendy
Captain Hook stopped reading his e-book and eavesdropped more intently.
Peter knew what his flexible friend meant and spoke to her quite innocently.
Wendy - I am as vanilla as Manilla envelopes in a creamery with whitewashed walls
And identical twin albino Godzillas fighting snow leopards with cue *****
No gimp suit in fifty shades of grey for me.
I am pretty much hormone-free,
More than happy with asexuality,
Playing pirated computer games on one hand
And others' loves that dare not speak their names which fewer understand.
In my world of dreamery certain flights of fancy pass me by.
I love to fly and you Wendy.
And I love you too Peter - Not Everygirl's Ideal of A Real Man.
But I can understand the attraction of Lost Boys and their toys in Neverland.
We've known each other for all these years,
Shared too many troubles, thoughts and fears
To be anything other than in each other's hearts.
If I never visit Neverland again
I know you will always be my closest friend,
What, where, whenever happens
To the bittersweet end.
May we both be dying for an Excellent Adventure,
If not together then separately.
There is nothing better than to know
That you will always be there for me
No matter how we might grow
Into this 21st century.
And one day I may straighten out
But
That's
Not
What
Life's
About.
Captain Hook put down his e-book and Facebooked a friend...............
And that is where our story will end.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC