"fifthly" poems
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Tornadoes, floods, earthquakes & wildfires.
Welcome to the four classical elements, &
you probably thought they were quaint old
concepts from a dated, medieval antiquity.
The fifth element, Ether [Akashic Record];
Woman is puberty, ************ childbirth,
& menopause & fifthly, clitoral ****** hm
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Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 3:09 PM UTC
Let me begin by claiming ignorance
Secondly, your voice pierces,
Steadily but bluntly
Like the tools of Australopithecus
Thirdly, I have other things to do
Fourthly, you’ll find out what it’s like to disappoint
and be disappointed
Fifthly, five fingers I have,
five of which are for his esophagus,
five of which are for you,
and five are for me.
Five times over,
fifth times a charm,
Five times over.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 6:12 AM UTC
I love children.
Okay let me rephrase that:
I love children that aren't mine.
I have abso-positively-fucking-lutey no responsibilities attached to them.
They didn't leave my body completely wrecked.
They don't look at me and call me "momma"
or any other variation of the name
and I love that
because frankly,
children scare me.
Okay let me rephrase that:
The idea of ruining a child's life scares me.
First off:
I wouldn't think my newborn child is beautiful.
Newborns look like potatoes and I don't particularly find potatoes attractive.
Secondly:
They'd have a name that haunts them in their sleep.
I named my dog Legolas after gorgeous Orlando Bloom in Lord of the Rings so don't try me.
**I will name them Harry ******* Potter without batting an eyelash.**
Thirdly:
I will be brutally honest with them.
When they ask me why the sky is blue,
I will say that I don't know.
I didn't pay attention enough in school to know.
When they ask me why some boys kiss boys,
I will say that it's perfectly normal.
Mommy probably kissed some girls and boys at some point in her life.
When they ask me why the little girl in their 2nd grade class comes to school with
bruises on her arms,
with her hair in two pigtails,
a smile on her lips,
but fear, loneliness, and heartbreak in her eyes,
I will say that some people in this world don't deserve Angels.
They don't deserve to be alive at all.
When they ask me why they don't ever see their great aunt Perla,
but hear her name whispered at family events,
I will tell them to ask the little girl in their 2nd grade class.
Fourthly:
They will learn to clean house, top to bottom,
The way my momma taught me.
They will hate it.
Then they will hate that they love it.
Fifthly:
I will argue with them every step of the way until they can learn to hold their own.
But until then,
No, you may not have $60 to go shopping.
Unless you're buying books or music.
Then you can have $100.
Lastly:
I will teach them to love.
My love for them will be overbearing, smothering, and unwavering.
This is how they will love their children.
But when they finally ask me what love is,
I will smile,
bittersweetly,
and say that love is...
Love is drowning in the ocean,
gasping for air that never quite reaches your lungs,
but when it does,
it hurts
because water doesn't belong in your lungs.
You can't help breathing the water in, however.
You just want it.
Want something to fill you, to overwhelm you.
Love is repeating this, over and over until one day,
the breathing
doesn't hurt anymore.
There is no more water in your lungs.
Just air.
There is water still, all around you,
but you are not drowning anymore.
You're swimming.
You, my dear, sweet, beautiful, hypothetical child,
are swimming!
which is something that I have yet to do.
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 12:35 AM UTC
I Hear America sniveling
A nod to Walt Whitman,
I hear America sniveling, life of hardships
Those are the nurse’s aide, each sniveling
looking tired and worn out
Petrified of being on the morning shift
The Porter sniveling as he drags
the fifthly mop down the corridor
The “Don’t walk signs.
Which everyone seems to ignore
The cooks crying as he wakes up early searching for dietary old ladle
Just to meet the breakfast rush, with sleep still in his eyes: his life seem to be a lie
The doorman sniveling as the workers rush through the doors
The looks on their faces, his hands stay closer to the company Tasers
The foreigner taxi cabs drivers speed a headed of each other for two dollars ride
As they tries their best to form a complete sentence..
Knowingly, that his spoken words is grammatically incorrect
The babies sniveling as they mother drop them off at the sitters,
Poor babies wish they could stay all day in their mother’s arm
The poor man sniveling, can be heard through the land, America
The rich man broad smiles as he killed another elephant for their ivory
Takes images proclaiming victory
The sadness of the hardest workers, or the elderly folks in pain
Shows an undivided world of tough hardships and poor leaderships
Each one to his or her own self, like homeless man Robert in the rain
We wakes up each day under the same sun, the same cruelty and injustice
the testing nuclear weapons in the atmosphere since 1945 and just recently another test
And we continues this repeat, and the more we feel and see or smile turn into frowns
I heard America sniveling:
*Even in hardship, God’s goodness prevails.” E
― Todd Stocker, *
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 8:39 AM UTC
All these calories,
Cage my bones, and make me feel fifthly,
"I am to heavy," I repeat over and over again.
I am to big, I wish to be a twig,
I want to be perfect and be able to look in the mirror.
Why was I born this way?
Why am I so ugly, mommy can you tell me?
The magazines aren't helping.
Tell me how to not be a pig,
I no longer want to dwell on my skin,
I just want to be a little kid again.
I was told cutting away was dangerous,
But I am tired of all these shutting doors of opportunity.
Some one tell me how to change this imperfection of mine,
Because I am tired of feeling and seeing this ugly skin suit I am in.
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 4:07 PM UTC