"fitch" poems
You wake up everyday for school
feeling like your not as cool
there all calling you a fool
and their laying down the rules
they all call you so many names
you feel like your drowning in a pool
school isn't for learning anymore
its just becoming hell for some
just because they wanna be a ***
thinking its all fun?
nah its actually pretty dumb
people becoming numb
from all this hate
hoping someone could try and open a gate
try and get them out all this hate
... before its to late
why tho?
because she's not as rich
and you wanna be a *****
well listen here honey
how bout you go crawl in a ditch
everybody has there own story
not everybody can be wearing abercrombie and fitch
so listen here ***** you can hop off now
and give yourself a bow
I don't know how
but take a bow
congradulate how much hate you make
because they found the girl you were bullying
not only in depression but dead in a lake
when are you gonna wake up and realize
this **** isn't a joke
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 3:42 AM UTC
Does it sting you if I tell you, you're a ****** a thief, and a liar by association?
Sure you've been convicted and you wear your prison tags with pride
This is not a tale, this is not for your entertainment, I'm talking about you!
Wearing your abercrombie and fitch, am I interrupting the call on your iphone!
Sure what you buy has been cleansed to hide the stench of blood and sweat
Do you know where it's made? Do you care about those who made it?
Think you got it bad? Wait until you see factory workers cry!
They can't because their tears dehydrate their malnourished bodies
Your thinking its alright to be at ease, better think twice
Panic, your self-preservation is not safe, your body's agency will soon give way
Living in ghettos, urban centers, metropolises, seeking comfort among congestion
Depositories for the excesses of humanity, fresh produce scarce, drugs plenty
Commercial, social, fashion districts hiding alley ways and misery
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 12:29 AM UTC
what am I...
if the mere color of my skin
smears fear, suspicion and dread
in the heads of perfect strangers...?
what am I...
if I feel the need to
recede to a sanctuary within
my very own black skin
allowing the familiar stranger
sharing the elevator
to exhale
and set her bundle of apprehension,
perceived and imagined,
aside
for the ride...?
what am I...
if I instinctively
hide my black eyes
in the screens
of iphones and ipads
avoiding icontact when isolated
with nervous strangers
lest I inflate the balloon of anxiety
to panicked proportions....?
creating that space of comfort
for all nervous strangers in my life
becomes my obsession...
and I switch lanes
by night
crossing to the other side
of streets with dim lights
lest I collide head-on
with trepidation personified
in the eyes of perfect strangers...
and I ditch the hoodie
for a crew neck sweater
by abercrombie and fitch
lest some slug with a 9mm gun
profile me as a ****
and defy order, rhyme and reason
to exercise his license to ****
in the still of a rainy night in florida
with no credible witness
in sight...
what am I...?
~ P
(7/18/2013)
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 2:55 PM UTC
Senior year filled with bliss
Senior year full of lists
life lessons we've all learned
no Qur'an to be burned
acceptance and tolerance is taught
things we ought not do
and things we ought to
skipping classes oh what fun
getting lots of essays
never done enough
We've all got pretty tough
after four years time
spent on
homework
friends
experiencing life
is defiantly sublime
getting ready for the future
yet we still cant see the whole **** picture
kind of nervous
kind of scared
at the end of the year
when we'll really see who really cared
to be true friends til the bitter end
through all our ups and all our downs
clean out the friend list
get ready for the plunge
each day is another last
memories we shall forget
names that used to have purpose
are now found meaningless
find a purpose
find a place
society dictates
this is our anthem
that although times are bad
working is all you have
each election getting meaner
every day a little harder
HOPE MY ***
this is all a clever lie
high school teaches us so much
yet none is remembered
none is obtained
vague concepts taught to the blind masses
When will the people learn?
To STAND UP
Stand up against corruption
and illegal government spending-WHOOPS
guess that was left outta the text books
Stay civil
stay sane
Follow the "American culture"
Eat fat
stay thin
this is hypocrisy we now live in
Vote for Republican
Vote for Democrat
doesn't matter in the end
they are the same
Abercrombie and Fitch
VS
Hollister
Same brand
different label
Don't you see?
Can't you see?
This hypocrisy....
is real
as real
as you
or Me
End of line
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 2:17 AM UTC
I was helping my little sister with a fiction story she has to write for her school
She was creating a character
I told her to create some personality traits, some tendencies that define her character, some unique habits so that the character is sharp in the readers mind, like a real person, nothing vague. She then had me read what she had written.
Brace yourselves, her level of sanity is a little concerning...
Here it is:
**she can not talk because her mother died and now she is too angry at fish to talk
she is missing one hand because she had to do cooking at home to help out but she accidentally cut off her hand
she does not have any hair because she has cancer
she has a obsession with clowns and dressed up as a clown every year for Halloween
she is deathly afraid of daisies
she wants to be the prime minister when she grows up , even though she lives in the U.S
her backup plan is to become a clown
she loves buying turtles as pets
she already owns 14 turtles and they are all either named Abrocombie or Fitch
She despises the names Abrocombie and Fitch but she loves all her turtles especially Fitch who she nicknamed Bob
she owns a leather jacket that she wears every day except for on the days she buys turtles on...
so she never wears her leather jacket**
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC
i haven't fallen in love with someone in such a long time
i'm pretty sure if the abercrombie and fitch of cowtown usa confessed his life long love for me right now
i'd tell him to **** off.
my sister is gushing her way through a romantic comedy romance
with some hot criminal justice major
and i'm happy to proffer advice
and cluck sympathetically
and oo and aww at the right moment
but my lack of drive to have something similar for myself
is slightly disconcerting
i worry that if i ever do have someone that means something to me
i'll have to explain to to them about my family
why i don't talk to my mom
why my little brothers and sisters can't see my dad
why my body is covered in scars
why i'm such a ****** up clown girl
and to be honest
i feel as if i don't have the ******* energy
to lay everything bear
to a potentially back-stabbing piece of **** human being
i've learned that everyone has that potential
my own mother tore me to pieces in front of a court of law
if the woman who gave birth to you
and claimed to love you for 18 years
can turn into a monster
so quickly
so can anyone else
and that is why i don't love people
like i say i do
because somewhere i know that they'll **** me over
they're human,
it's what they do
little clown girl,
sit on your dusty shelf
until it's empty
and you have it to yourself
i don't need any other accent
i just need space
and a knife
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 1:04 AM UTC
"The most beautiful part of your body
is where it's headed. & remember;
Loneliness is still time spent with the world."
Ocean vuong
It's a tough time for dreamers
But
"No one becomes an artist unless they have to."
Janet Fitch
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 12:07 AM UTC
The last time I saw you, I was the splitting image of the Butterfly Project.
I thought pen could save me.
In middle school, they impress upon you so much about ink poisoning,
But not enough about what to use besides ink.
I need the butterflies on my wrist, I say.
*I’ve been doing some research, and I found that
Butterflies can see the color red.*
I tell you they tumbled down my arms.
The butterflies, they somersault
Over red crevices in my wrist and palm;
Bat their wings like eyelashes holding back tears;
Rush air over wounds with their wings
Because oxygen heals.
I never said I didn’t like the taste of oxygen.
It just wasn’t my flavor yet.
Maybe the reason I like film photography so much
Is because an author named Janet Fitch once said she felt like
*An underdeveloped photograph,
Her image rising to the surface.*
Maybe my photograph is overexposed.
My photograph is of the whiteness in my mind when I hurt myself,
And I need chemicals like fixer
To bring an image to the front and center.
The rule of thirds divided me into two parts self-hatred
And one part hatred for hating myself:
Perhaps there’s one chemical I need to soak my brain in;
Perhaps I missed the perma-wash step
And I didn’t fully rinse away the negative solution on my film.
And if I am to talk about steps,
Then I am a spiral staircase that hasn’t had the steps built in yet
Because I don’t understand how to attach them.
I’ve forgotten how to hold onto railings.
My palms are splintered because I land on them when I fall.
Now I never said I wasn’t worth recovery.
I just couldn’t say that I was.
I am the embodiment of not wanting to get on the roller coaster because I’m scared,
but also being the roller coaster myself.
I just don’t know how to stop.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
"The pearls weren't really white, they were a warm oyster beige, with little knots in between so if they broke, you only lost one. I wished my life could be like that, knotted up so that even if something broke, the whole thing wouldn't come apart." -Janet Fitch
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 12:47 AM UTC
The job is done now, see.
You let your mind start to race,
Where a clear conscious once stood,
Death sits calmly in its place.
You look in the mirror to see a bit clearer.
How did we get here so fast?
Retrace a memory from the past.
In a job you didn't like,
You took for your family, that's clear,
All the cards were laid just right,
I can hear that phone ringing from here.
Miss Fitch was coming in hot
So you came back screaming on that wire,
Took a job in shady dealings.
One phone call and you're fired.
Now you're home, act natural.
Smile at all those right places
It was a trigger you had to pull,
Inside an internal war, he faces
Just don't look back, that's the present trick
Or your own mind may make you sick.
Nov 2, 2019
Nov 2, 2019 at 7:14 PM UTC