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Natalie R Jun 2014
Pimple popping
Lathered deodorant
Awkward tampons
Hair in unwanted places
Drunken nights
Failed hangover cures
Flunked classes
Broken hearts
First kisses and first times
Rebounds
Hookups
Hickeys
Rushes of frustration
These are all
unglamorous occasions
Of a not so florescent
Adolescence
If your an Arctic Monkey's fan, I hope you enjoyed the title :)
Raj Arumugam Nov 2014
"Give me a good reason,"
the exasperated gangster-father
quizzes his son,
"why you flunked your school exams"

"Well, dad,"* says the spoiled brat
*"they locked us all up in a hall
and they asked us questions
five days in a row -
but all five days I never
gave them a word
Everybody else - the cowards -
spilled the beans!"
Meka Boyle Jul 2013
Growing up never comes when you expect it:
It's when you realize that the suicide note under your mattress
Probably has a few too many commas where semicolons should be,
And a little too much emphasis on the last four years of your life-
Missed due dates, flunked exams, and friendships that were supposed to be forever.
It's when you figure out that the boy you spent your freshman year of college worrying about
Never even knew the name of your favorite book,
Or anything else that really mattered.
It isn't something you can predict, or prepare for-
It isn't a sudden shift of priorities that all of a sudden appear
Somewhere in your subconscious, making it a lot easier to get up at 9am for a statistics class
That you're inevitably going to fail.
It isn't anything you do that will change, but rather
A shift inside of you that slowly shakes your entire being.
Youth is only beautiful until it's corrupted,
By the sultry hands of time, beckoning you forward when all you ever wanted to do was hide.
It slowly seeps down into the darkest corners of your mind,
Swallowing up all that innocent ambition
Flung upon you in the fifth grade by a board of indifferent teachers
Who decided to deem you gifted, introducing you to a world of knowledge
Too fascinating to mingle with the uncertainty of responsibility.
There's something frightening about growing old,
Maybe it's because you spent one too many hours of your childhood
Pretending to be someone else- caught up in a storybook world
Full of daydreams and simplicity, too one dimensional for reality.
It's not that it goes away all of a sudden: all the premature doubt
And impulsive wishes of death, or something like it.
But rather, it takes a different form-
That which was once a big red ball full of passionate emotions,
Has deflated, leaving you with only a faint residue of what you used to feel.
Maybe, you got your wish after all- something had to die, you know,
In order for you to carry on without losing your mind.
It's a sad paradox, this sequence of living,
As intuition slowly deteriorates, and common sense
Slinks in, in its premeditated, yet lackluster manner,
And before you know it, you're not a kid anymore.
Peter Pan flew the coop years ago, but Neverland still remains,
A testimony to all the lost childhoods of the ones
Too eager to lay their stake in the land of milk and honey.
Firefly Sep 2014
Flowers to drown in the pond,
Frogs to make a blood bond,
Hysterics and cruelty,
I laughed, making it echo in the tree trunk,
Forgetting classes I just flunked,
I rolled in the grass,
smelling the green and powdered glass,
Ignoring cuts on the nose,
Went to frolic in the pink garden rose,
‘Ere I saw a red-black, lovely beetle,
Snickering at me,
Showing it’s needle,
Curiosity, red-sight,
Taking it in my hand,
Marveling at innocence,
I closed the trap, feeling the beetle decay to strands,
Despite my mind, my blue heart shed a tear,
So lovely the beetle,
Without a blue-black fear,
So quickly the light rolled away,
Murrain of regret, the cruelty that once was disappears,
Inside me lays moths and trolls,
And now,
The lovely beetle’s soul.
                                           -**Firefly
Copyrighted September 15 2014
All rights reserved.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2019
. and i am only ascribed, a relevant nation status, within the individual, by only having to "enjoy" an exile... back, "home": merging into an NPC-meme, so not the mahjong solitaire acronym "game"? you know: PSCAPE-complete, NP-complete... NP-C? NP-complete problems? nondeterministic polynomial time? guess i was the only dumb 'un to self-teach myself to play mahjong solitaire... i guess that's not expected to be hard... hey: here's the map, you figure it out.

the current climate of a crescendo
of events...

****...
        i can't say maine ****:
even though i own two cats
of that breed...

it's all...  (sniff sniff):
very much like being back
in a catholic high school,
of a highly irish choice
of breed area
of outlier "london"...

       with black girls...
putting vaseline cream
into their hair,
to keep the frizz out...
or the afro...
whichever...

     getting into cat-fights
with each other
and some outlier white girls...
stephanie:
oh i remember stephanie...
while the "other"
time i learned what
a "kit-kat" was...
   lucy...
with ambitions to become
a stripper...

    "kit-kat":
  one hand, does a four-finger
*******...

but the fact that the current
climate
doesn't allow dialectics?
i mean: debate,
without all the rhetorical
******* of:
pre-staged "events"?

i take two beers,
or three,
   a packet of cigarettes...
spot a park bench,
sit on it,
and...
              wait...
some old timer is bound
to chat me up...
hardly complaining
about me drinking in
public,
i excuse myself,
asking him:
is it o.k. if i light a
cigarette?
  no complaints...
he might just come
back with
a rayleigh bicycle...
green...
******* plush specimen
from...
  i'm guessing the 1950s...
and then we'd juggle...
opinions...
because opinions
are not debated...
not in a dialectic environment...
juggle...
two clowns: first pucker
to the punch of a smacker
of a pair of lips of a woman...

and you know...
there would be this...
aura of a whispering silence...
like...
somone was listening...
god... ****: perhaps god...

and we'd sit there...
spewing opinion after
opinion,
   and we'd talk about bicycles,
about his grandchildren's
supposed autism,
and i'd try to comfort him
saying: just give them some time...

but the pop media doesn't
do that, does it?
dialectics on a park bench
is as alien to pop media
as seeing a ******* ****
saucer, all phosphoresent
in the night sky...
   like: neon a. zero...
neon a. zero
  to b. abide blackout,
come in c.
c. piccadilly circus
                             neon out...

i was saying something:
yeah, i was:
never pity the drunk...
he'll just turn inside out and
tell you:

   'the best poached eggs
i ever made... were...
when i was blitzed...
  plastered...
  *******: goo....   goo'n:
gone...
but the perfect poached
eggs...
        yeah yeah...
whrill in a movement
for a tornado,
drip some white vinegar...
  drop... pouch you
limbless chicky-coco-clock-in!'

or... that what i expected
from... not taking
boxing lessons...
did about 3 lessons in martial
arts...
was kicked in the *******
by the teacher...
so i flunked...
  **** to that sort of "club"
of self-defense...
you kick me in the *****,
i kick out your ego...
and thought?
  hell...
         either a stephen king
novel
       or a shot from a shotgun...

honest to god,
i once asked an afro-saxon
if i could touch his hair...
guess what?
  i touched it...
   ooh...
goose feathers...
they would really replace
goose feathers with
afros...
  it's like:
the engineering
concept that went into
springs
of cars?
    ever touch an afro?
cushions...
  i'm feeding goose feather
stuffed pillows...
or springs on both
the bed,
   or a car,
or any variant form of
transportation...

i prayed for chop-sticks,
instead...
they gave me drum-sticks...
but no drum...
they said:
   air-drum...
  ****... that's a tough gig...
air-guitar is once thing...
but air-drum?

i had to start thinking
about my inherent
physical "disability"
concerning the *******
as...
   leech...
  or  yiddish:
     schmuck...
       and... i went to the elders
and they...
didn't expect i was
handed down the script
of william burrough...

imagine...
   a world...
where there was "excess" skin...
associated with the ****...
like... a floral pattern,
protruding out,
and not in...
   so i said:
  sleeve off, or sleeve on?
am i to **** some maiden
or simply do some
jamaican recipe replica
of a *******?

you sure eve of eden
confused the phallus
with a serpent...
or more... a mushroom?
well... if you circumcise
the ******...
that's more a mushroom
than some reptilian
                   artifact, no?

well... we're not going
to have a dialectical spectacle
with the way we're going,
are we?
  i'm juggling opinions,
midly drunk,
with some elder,
bicycles,
the weather, seasons,
grandchildren and autism...
and on the center
stage...

              ONLY RHETORIC
ALLOWED...
       i'm as ugly as Socrates
inside and out...
at this point,
at this point: inside and out...
so...
  if only i was dyslexic
akin to the modern and ancient
greek standards of
not having
the capacity to write...

        writing has become
a famine of conversation...
i don't want to speak because
i chose the medium of writing...
i like ballet...
  i also like watching someone
play the piano...
and then i watch myself
itch away at a keyboard
of, thus, arranged letters.
Louis Brown Sep 2011
I like a bowl of collards
You like brussel sprouts
You have a taste for cognac
Jim Beam just knocks me out
You went to that big college
I flunked the seventh grade
We ain't got much in common
Till we pull down the shades


CHORUS:
THE ATTRACTION OVERCOMES THE WALLS BETWEEN US
TO UNDERSTAND OUR BOND WON'T TAKE A GENIUS
OUR LIVES ARE CONTRADICTIONS
BUT THE FUN OUTWEIGHS THE FRICTION
THE ATTRACTION OVERCOMES THE WALLS BETWEEN US


In our healthy love-hate thang
Sometimes hell breaks loose
But when the big moon rises
We wave a flag of truce
Our fussing's just a pastime
Between the mountain peaks
But by evening time we  tangle
And the making up is sweet


CHORUS


BRIDGE:  It's natural to differ
                  But the difference ain't too big
                  We meet right in the middle
                  When it's time to build a bridge


CHORUS
Ana Habib Nov 2020
The family of two would soon be turning into 3. Jasmine and Robyn  Banerjee were a young couple who had gotten married only a few short month back and were now eagerly waiting for the arrival of the baby. Jasmine, did not care if was a boy or girl. She and her husband agreed that as long as the baby was healthy had her mom eyes and dads smile everything was perfect.

Her in-laws had other ideas. They looked after her and was very understanding about her plight. The morning sickness, violent mood swings, acne, aches and pains. They advised her on what they thought was right but every few days or so her mother in law had something new to say. “ Don’t eat too much of something or the baby will have birthmark just like it somewhere on the body” or eat fish so that the “baby will be smart” or something more annoying like “ do not bathe, the baby might be born early” The mother to-be smiled politely or rolled her eyes as far back as possible while silently wishing someone would take her a way from these kooky people.

Jasmine, was a school teacher by profession and her husband Robyn ran a very successful travel agency. She had been told that it would be best if she resigned from work, at the very beginning of her pregnancy. Robyn provided for both and why did a woman need to work after a child is born?

Baby Dia was born on a Friday at 8pm in a clinic after a long and tiring labour. Both the doctor and nurse were smiling when they handed the pink bundle of cries to Jasmine. She did not even have 10 minutes alone with the baby before the door burst open with an eager set of grandparents and a father who looked, troubled.

What is it? Cried one of the grandmothers

“A girl” said Jasmine smiling

“hmm”

“a boy would have been better”

“ I Know she would bring bad luck to the family”

Not something to tell a new mom but everyone was suddenly looking each other instead of her. No one went to congratulate the mom or take a second look at the baby. Jasmine’s mother in law looked upset. Her mom just patted her hand, hurriedly mumbled something, and left the room with her father in tow. Jasmine felt bad upon hearing everything and wondered what kind of people she had been living with till now. Her husband was quiet the whole time.

Baby Dia grew up to be a happy smiling baby who made little to no fuss, slept through the night and always seemed excited about expanding her palate. She did not see much of her father or grandfather. They never showed much interest in her. They never warmed up to her. Robyn smiled, picked her up or played with his daughter every once in a while, but for the most part he worked long nights, on the weekend and went on week long trips when he needed to.

Robyn was working late again for the third time this week. He had hoped for a boy for so long but ended up with a daughter. She was precious to look at but women are complicated, expensive and overly emotional.

One afternoon, 4 year old Dia was playing outside with a few of the neighbourhood children. She had great fun but came home looking a little more then just *****. Her pink frock had holes in it, her wavy hair came undone and she was holding only one shoe in her hands. Her mother was no where to be seen but her grandmother hollered at the girl.

“Look at you, dirt all over the place,” why cant you just play inside with your dolls or toys only boys get this ***** and stay out so late” Dia paid no attention to these words and went to her grandmother for a hug. The old woman shooed the little girl away and locked her in the bathroom.  “Don’t come out till your squeaky clean” her grandmother warned. What was the big deal about getting ***** Dia wondered?

When she had turned 7, Dia started attending events and invites with her parents. They were all invited to a wedding on a Saturday night. She no longer had to wear scratchy frocks anymore. Her mother had bought her something better. A pant suit with a pink scarf. Dia loved it and dressed up by herself with no help. The dress was great, but the scarf was a nuisance. It was long and she felt suffocated. What was there to hide? Her mom draped in a pink saree, frowned when she came out wearing no scarf.

“Put on your scarf it comes with the dress”

“I don’t want to its ugly and I wont able to play with this on”

The normally calm woman, suddenly felt annoyed.

“Look, I have a shawl and your grandmother is wearing one too” that’s just how women dress, and that includes little girls.”

Her grandmother sitting in the back of the car murmured something about teaching her manners and modesty. Dia didn’t flinch

“ I have manners and my legs are not showing” Modesty in the “Banarjee” household meant that woman were not to expose their legs or back or any other parts of the body except for the hands and feet” Such rules did not apply to the men.

The next morning Jasmine spoke to Dia about the incident.

“I wanted you to wear the scarf last night because its how girls dress. You are a girl and you have to cover yourself to avoid trouble. Good girls always cover themselves and listen to their parents.”

Dia nodded but she didn’t understand anything. She was hungry and just wanted to eat.

When Dia was 11. One of her father’s colleagues came over. A kind man, his wife and annoying son. She liked them. They always brought over presents. She had gotten blue bangles last time. She saw them, from her window. She could not leave her room until her mother called for her.  It was always to work in the kitchen, Serve the guests, tea and snacks, set the table and do the dishes while everyone talked in the living room or sat in the backyard. Everything had to be cleaned up and the tea had to be exactly right. Not too dark, or too sugary. Grandmother says that if a girl did not know how to make proper tea she would not get a good husband in the future. Dia smirked when she heard this, her husband can have milkshakes for all she cared. She hated tea. Drink too much of it and she would get darker. Drink to little of it and the headaches would start. Dia could only leave the room when they left. No one really stayed over except of her mother’s parents, cousins and the occasional 50 pounds overweight aunty who always had her face in the refrigerator and inquired about her grades and skin tone every single visit. Girls were expected to stay indoors as much as possible. Always hidden but from what Dia could not always understand.

A few days after Dia turned 12 she had gotten her period. She read all about it on the internet and the librarian at school had lent her some books while explaining everything to her. Such topics were never discussed at home. It was a horrible experience. The bleeding, cramping, headaches and bouts of anger. All this because she was girl, every month for a very long time. 50 years perhaps. Her mother and grandmother smiled, when she told them. They took her out for lunch and bought her new clothes. She could no longer wear shorts or sleeveless tops anymore, even in the privacy of her own room. A brassiere had to go with everything now and long scarves and vests were a must. Along with this Dia had to follow other rules. She could not wash her hair on the first day of her period, she could not bathe in hot water. She could not paint her nails, have anything sour (pickles, lemonade) or make food for anyone because everything will spoil. She could not enter a place of worship or cradle baby because he/she might get sick. Dia thought all this was pointless and when she inquired about it, she got a smack to the face for questioning ancient rules and rituals and was told that this was how it was for every woman before her in the family. She earned a second smack when she asked who made the rules. Probably a man.

On her 14th birthday. Dia had gotten into a fight with one of her best friends. It was over something trivial. What to wear for a school event? Dia had settled for a saree and her friend settled on a gown. Dia was not fair but a little dusky. Her friends skin tone was like milk. The girl took great pride in that. She went as far as saying that Dia’s grey saree made her look like a crow. Dia was too upset to say anything in return, so she quickly walked home. She walked to her room and did not come out till the next day. Jasmine had noticed her daughter’s sour behavior and snappy remarks, so she asked what was wrong. Dia tearfully told her the truth. Her mom laughed and said that good friend’s squabble over anything and forget it 2 days later. Gave her money for ice cream and a movie and left for work. Her grandmother while doing the dishes told her that it was normal for girls for fight because women are competitive, they always want the best for themselves and have no problem belittling someone else to get it. Dia asked why, she got the usual response. “that’s how girls are” Dia through her grandma was being extra negative that day.

When Dia turned 18, she met a young man through one of her classes. She was studying health sciences and aspired to be a dentist when she was much older. Teeth always fascinated her since she was young. Her friend was a taller a bit older (21) and studying to be an Emergency Medical Technician. Dia and this boy had been friends for awhile now. He came from a good family and had no siblings. But she always thought him to be a friend. They studied together, hung around and had fun. He on the other hand started asking too many questions and took up a lot of her time. He was nice, positive and always made her laugh, but she had to let him know how she felt about him. She thought of speaking to her mom about this. Her father had heard everything instead. He sat beside her, listened to everything, and told her to wait for the boy to come to her and then break him the news gently. There was no need to talk to him first and cause a scene at the college campus. This would affect her studies and make her look her bad. This upset Dia in a major way. A woman was able to have feelings, but she could not voice them out? She could not take the first step in a relationship?  She mumbled her thanks and took a long shower that night, thinking everything over. The next day she approached her father again. He gave her a long look and said that if she broke things off with him first, he could go around spreading rumors or get her in trouble at school. No one likes a bold woman who always speaks her mind. She should just focus on her studies. Dia did not press him any further. She went on with her everyday life and lost him as a friend in a month’s time.

A week shy of her 21st birthday, Dia received an acceptance letter from a prestigious university. She was ecstatic and did cartwheels after reading the letter. Her parents had no qualms about her studying at a university that was far away from home or living in a hostel. She had matured into a young woman who they could trust and she had not made a faulty decision till now. Dia was not interested in parties, drinking, or staying overnight with friends. She was a good girl. However, they only let her go after letting her know that they would start looking for a boy once she graduated from her program. Dia said yes without thinking to much about this. Graduation was still 4 years away.

Dia went to complete university in less then 4 years time. She did not waste any time after graduation and enrolled into dental school. She had flunked only 1-2 courses during one semester. Her grandmother had died during one of them and her grades fell just slightly. This brought upon change in the Banerjee family. Her father had changed after his mom’s death. He was no longer in a rush to get Dia married and stopped working. He picked up a hobby and worked on that. Her mother took a break from teaching and now worked as a guidance counsellor for teens at a reputable high school.

During this time Dia was going steady with another dentistry student, with her parent’s permission. He was alright in most ways but sometimes pressured her to take their relationship to the next level. She always resisted and asked him to wait till they get married. Woman had to remain pure till they got married. If one’s purity is gone or lost it would bring great shame to the family and the couple. He said he he understood until one day he did not anymore. In a fit of rage, he let her know she belonged to him and he could do what he liked. They would be getting married soon so why did it matter. She resisted the urge to strike him and let him know that she belonged to no one but herself. He called her names before calling it quits. It hurt, but Dia knew that she would meet the right man sooner or later. Her parents did not say anything to her regarding this.

When Dia was 25 she did meet someone, he was a doctor and she went to become a dentist. They did not a have a grand wedding but a small private ceremony. They had paid for everything and Dia sent her parents on a much-needed vacation. Her husband, he did not pressure her to do anything she did not like. He grew up abroad and helped her in all the things that men did not normally do back home like cooking, cleaning, shopping because this was considered to be “ Woman’s work” and was “normal” This surprised her at first but amazed her later on. One night after too much wine and fun her husband went to bed.  Dia was still awake giddy from the wine and had other things on her mind. She gently woke her husband up. He was not pleased. “Let me sleep woman, its not the time to do anything and I have to get up early. He left it at that and was snoring in minutes.

She looked at him and frustration and wondered why it was normal and acceptable for men to satisfy their needs wherever and whenever possible, but a woman was always rebuked when she wanted something from her husband. She had certain needs and rights over him. She quickly undressed, slipped into a nighty, and went to sit in the balcony for a bit. The moon was out and the world was dead asleep.
Dia poured herself the last of the wine and thought about everything.

A woman always has two choices to fight or to follow the rules. Since birth woman are groomed into becoming a certain type of woman, once they get to that stage they are either married off or left to work and hop from one relationship to another. They were taught to be quiet, obedient, smart and always fully covered.

Why did a woman need to be covered at all times? Not just her body but her mind as well. She must keep mum about her wants, her needs, and desires. She always must think about the others and society before deciding on something. No one looks up to a woman who speaks her mind and focuses on herself. No one appreciates an independent woman. She must always be dependant on a male somebody (father, brother, husband, son). She must always do what she is told and taught because that is the way it is. That is how girls are.

This is all Dia grew up listening to. Who came up with the rules? Society. A society, where men dictated most things and told woman what they should and should not do. When a man will never understand what women go through or why they must handle and balance out so much. School, home, family, career. A woman always has to choose.

Everything comes down to a choice and she will forever have to sacrifice something or the other because it is the womanly thing to do. Men are never really questioned about their choices. They talk, they lead, and the women follow. That needs to change. People need to unlearn these age-old stereotypes. They hurt both the men and women. A man grows up but ends up lacking so much in terms of emotional intelligence and respect for the other gender. He grows without understanding what gender equality means and why it is needed.  A woman grows up but not without sacrifice, selflessness, and crippling obedience. She is seen as inferior, weak, or untamable if she does not do what she is told, asks too many questions and wants to better herself in some way or form.

A woman’s identity should not be made from excuses and lies.
Minuscule Ego Dec 2018
Troubled, trouble again he felt
How could she tried to do such to him
How could she throw out all he ever ate up
When all he’s ever done was loved her till health
Oh he wish to fly a dreamer n’ say goodbye to it all
The stumbling and fights - the curses and the brawls
Theirs were none compare, but now, a finished ashes
A fire that burns and burned, n’ then flickered out
Leaving a wound that bleeds more gashes

Is his knight of shinning armor now a fraction
An embarrassment to the highest order - a madness
Does she see it in his eyes - though he'd tried to hide it
That the best things in life aren't free, so why get blown
Stay young and let the wheels keep spinning in motion
For easy beams of life are a glee - it all ends in a frown
Some in the graves and some the caves
Some in those cravings that end with AIDS
But you’ve trained to trample on scorpions and snakes
So where are your wits? My heart teased

Is she willing to stay? The brain bellows
Tis present, what's yesterday? my heart replies
And that of her mischievous plans? He echo slowly
A flunked! I suppose - I know she craved for tomorrow
That at times love isn’t prove by poems and presents only
Sometimes it has to be proven through pains and patience
But as for the incursion pain, that plan must not delude me
Not today, not forever. Indeed good and better suits us well
But the aim must not dethrone me; let’s it makes me a ******
For if one succeeds in turning a man from his manly posture
Not only do it loses his humanity, but it also earn him a killer
And yes! I see all the beautiful flowers up ahead

Mi lady in red (s2m) : oh she is bleeding out red
Redder than the sunset n' brighter than the black
We all have planned and all succumbed to its sorrows
But if one’s wise, they will realize there’s always tomorrow
Ours is right now, so swallow the pride and take my throne
Cherish the Prince and decorate his life with your flames
For good is better n’ bright and better is best n’ prettier
And the Boss n’ every other are only petted and petter
The perfect story: I bleeding you and you, only me
(s2m) : Oh! A dream come true

(s2m) : Break the rules n’ have a fun
Let’s loose ourselves and swing along
In a music that rules the day and all night long
But I refuse be a victim of saving someone’s mom
Most especially one who seems like she’s drowning
When in truth she’s not – when she’s acting n plotting
I ought not to be the next Lemuel that fails and felled
Hush! My heart spurned again, she’s all I want ever wanted!
Can’t you see how wide opened I am – I’m always wondering
Where does she? How I long to see the sun rise on her face
What is she doing? Is she okay or is there someone else?
Is someone loving her more: a guy or a girl I suppose
Does she get lost in their eyes too? Oh, it’s absurd
You and everyone versus me and everything
A logic bomb and Elle - a soldier and Simi
(smh) : Oh! A gleam that’s not true

So now I am standing on all men’s behalf
I guess it’s only me who’s saying: we are sorry mom
Sorry that we made a fool of ourselves and broke you
I’m sure we all prone to love you but it all went wrong
We fooled ourselves - we’ll get over her just like a song
But I can’t live that lie anymore - I be a fool to lose you
So again my heart bleeds: a change is all tis asking
The chance to rewrite all the cries and scars
That’s keeping you from a change.
There’s a danger in loving someone too much, but sometimes that’s just not enough.
Eyithen Sep 2018
Girls like her peak in High School
Always thin
Good at everything
Great at sports
Beautiful
Lots of friends
Outgoing
Confident

Girls like me?
A wallflower
I'm not alone
I have sort-of-friends
I'm a shadow in the back of the class
Always silent
Mid-season I'm failing
Getting grades up just enough
for the final report card to say I'm "smart"
Fool the colleges i do
Silently being the only one who doesn't understand
But the class is moving on without you
Crying because I'm "not good enough"
Below/Average at sports
Never good enough for the team
Stuck on the sidelines
Always watching
My life is a TV program
I laugh and watch
But never feeling a part of it
I'm just a spectator

Girls like her peak in college too
Even more beautiful then before
A boyfriend to match
And a petite body that looks great in everything
Flying through college
Instagram model

Girls like me?
Flunked my first year
Home i go
More clueless than ever
"I changed my major" i tell them
I put on the act
"I know what I'm doing"
It's all a lie
A mask I wear
Falling apart inside
Feeling despair
The tears come easy
They come fast
How long will this misery last?
Comparing, Comparing
It's a bigger high school now
Except no one gives a **** this time round
I did this to myself
Want to fix it
Is it too much to ask for a win?
Medication helps the focus
I am making a plan

I'm learning
I'm finding myself
It's okay to take my time
It's okay if I'm a little slow
So why do i feel like I'm just fooling myself?
Everyone has a different path
I haven't given up
I haven't stopped moving
So why i am walking the treadmill?
Moving but still in the exact same spot?

I'm jealous of girls like her
They got it all
Wish things were different
Wish i was given their hand
Cause fate has delt me a rough one

She gets the grassy meadow
I get the stormy mountain
She gets prince charming
I'm still waiting
She uses her wit to defeat the witch
I escape and run through books and other things that distract

What is wrong with me?
Why can't i be good at things?
Why is this so hard?
I wish things came easy.

We were friends
Me and her
And i hate the green monster
that leaves me with this jealous anger

Stay away
Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat
All they do is cause me harm
All the doubts and pain creeps back
I keep reopening the wound.
Those negative thoughts i though were gone?
Well they are buried in the back of my mind ready to resurface.

This is just the beginning of my story
I know this
I am destined for greater things
I know this
I will make it
I know this
I will graduate
I know this

Yet, Girls like her
Leave me with lies that echo...
I have been struggling with school. I want to do well yet i self-sabotage. I am getting better. I have a plan and i am going to succeed and fight through college, yet i see pictures of a friend from high school and that is all it takes till i start to spiral into this black hole of doubt and fear.
Sam Temple Oct 2015
trunks filled with junk and the crunk juice flows
flunked out pill popping junkies with no cash go
drunkenly to the shrunken head show
knowing they stunk.
The monks dunked funky mumps victims
on bunk beds and licked them
instead of fixing lunk-headed situations
with linkin-log technologic advances
drinking dogs retrofitted with dance moves
groove on the wooden floor while ****** bore
the Moors with tales of divorce and random *******
on all fours in doorways
during bad plays on the interstate…
demonstrators, unregulated, on roller skates
wait at the gates of the ingrates filled with hate
and throw pie plates with fated accuracy
and the belated bureaucratic picnic
nitwits in knickers knuckle bump
and plump debutants snicker
the wicker croquet mallets
perform ballet in the chalet
and I have to valet the cars –
Sam Temple Jul 2015
Defunct steam punk
on the top bunk
smelled skunk and shrunk
into a trunk.
Funky crunk juice
with floating chunks
of dunked *****
shot from a Monk’s junk.
Spelunker, a drunkard,
bucks ****** up truck drivers
hiding behind tree trunks…
the schmuck.
Clunky blunt, fronted
musky, and held by a hunk
flunked the test
and was debunked
in Timbuctoo.
Randall Smith Oct 2013
Nag, Nag, Nag
That's all I ever hear.
When I get up in the morning
Till I go to bed at night.

When she wakes in the morn
I think she has a list
If I'm not doing this
I should be doing that.

Hard to believe but
She thinks I'm a slob
Why just last week I
Picked up a sock.

Just the other day
She went to get some ice
"Why is the tray empty" she yelled.
Why?  There was a cube left in it

We went to a party,
I think I flunked a test.
"Are you wearing that" she ask
" I put it on"  I said

"You left the lid up again
What shall I do with you?"
Being nice I said" There's
A porta-***** for you."

No more nagging
Will I hear.
The dog's inside
And I'm out here.
Jowlough Apr 2019
Pass up until you have it
Wait up until you need it
Tell me the password
I’ll show you and light it up

Give me a valid reason
Inhale until you’re weezing
What are the magic words
Flunked conversations

You have the pedigree
I’ll stay up until your free
Blank revelations
Song inspiration

Pass up until you need it
Don’t rush you’ll have to save it
Tell me the password
I’ll show you and light it up.

They give you lame advices
Trippin’ the lane you’re passing
Timely decisions
They’re on a mission

Talkative boy’s on fire
He gets the double score
He does no picking
Swimming on double rivers


I’m just another option
The secondary mission
When he’s out partying
Practically speaking

Pass up until you need it
Wait up until you got it
Tell me the password
I’ll show you and fire it up

Give me a valid reason
Inhale until you’re weezing
What are those magic words
Anticipating

Stay put your inner spirits
Hit it until you miss it
What is the password
Tell me the magic words

My life is very tragic
One hundred percent logic
No fun and happy games
To feed your spirit

Show me your hidden feelings
Give me a point for living
Anticipations
And convolutions


Pass up until you say it
Wait up until you keep it
Tell me the password
I’ll show you and light it up

Give me a valid lesson
Inhale until you’re teasing
What are the magic words
Dumped conversations

Never to be belonging
Clingy from floor to ceiling
Am I assuming
This love is blooming?

I’ll take you up the mountains
Reserve a room what happens
I don’t initiate
The pathway to heavens

You may be here just wond’ring
Why are we doing nothing
I am a loser
But never a user

Now you’re showing your body
You are getting too naughty
Tell me the password
I’ll keep it then light it up


Igniting the inner senses
Decluttering all the messes
What is the password
Tell me, I’ll act it up

Pass up until you see it
Wait up until you touch it
Tell me the password
I’ll show you and fire it up
Louis Brown Jul 2014
There was a House Speaker named Boehner
Who went forth without any honor
He did his best to hurt Obamacare
To damage the folks with no hospital care
He killed every bill that came to the House
He's sorry you'd say like the sorriest louse
Then Obama's army got ready to roll
Barach showed us methods we all could extoll
That got the people insurance at last
Poor Boehner he cried like he's done in the past
Then he fought every tax to help people on high
To get all their votes when November comes by
But there is a Father in Heaven above
Who whispered no man can win without love  
Then Boehner tried suing  and shamefaced us all
Voters said Boehner  was losing his *****
Then he failed to effect immigration
And stifle the strongest of nations
He flunked with each program he wanted to win
Soon Boehner will be on the streets once again
So all will be well in the dear U.S.A.
There'll be no Boehner to get in the way
he...he...he
Kyle Mustain Apr 2015
He's ashamed of me
forever alone
he's my dad you see
and he wants me gone

for I was bad
and flunked six classes
tears flow from my eyes
in really big masses

Does he love me
of this I am sure
does he want to see me
I think not any more
ln Jul 2015
You are more than the need for you to binge your food right after ingesting it
You are more than the opinion of that girl from high school who had everything done her way
You are more than the layers of cellulite you see on your thighs every time you look into the mirror
You are more than the chocolate cakes you avoided under than name of calories
You are more than the test you flunked after spending every Friday night revising
You are more than the tears that flow down your cheek after knowing you've let your parents down
You are more than the apologies that you're so used to hearing, that they have become as meaningless as the 'I love you's '
You are more than the job interview you didn't get through because you had far too many piercings
You are more than the stares you get for standing up for things everyone else is against
You are more than the pain of trying to be someone you are completely not for the sake of fitting it
You are more than the lips who speak ill of another to make yourself feel better about yourself
You are more than the thoughts that think of destructing everyone around you to be called a king in the kingdom inside your head
You are more than the lies that flew across the courtroom when you admitted to mistakes that weren't yours
You are more than every bad experience, every disappointment, every heartbreak, every single damage that has made you uncomfortable to be in your own skin


You, are everything you want to be
& everything you don't want to be.
Sydney Victoria Jan 2013
I Wasn't Good Enough For Him,                                    
Wasn't Good Enough For Her,                                        
Wasn't Good Enough For Them,
Inside I Stir,
Black On The Walls,
White On The Door,
I Feel All That's Good,
Has Fell Through The Floor,
I Do Not Miss It,
Nope--Not A Bit,
I Could Cry And Yell,
And Even Throw A Fit,
I Flunked The System,
I Failed A Dream,
My Skin Is Bruised,
But I Swam That Stream,
You Say Hello As You Pass,
You Think My Week Was Good?
You Think I Had A Blast?
When You Said Goodbye I Ran Away,
*Fast
Kaeru May 2014
“Jesus take the wheel!” she cried
as her car did spin.
She crashed into a mighty tree
and her ribcage smashed in.

As she stood at heaven's gate
and asked why she was dead
Jesus shook his head and asked
if she'd flunked driver's ed.

She told him that she had not
and he said “Yeah you did.
Otherwise you would have known
to turn into a skid.”
Geetha Raj Nov 2011
Slowly awaken,
Fast asleep
An apprentice at feelings
A ****** at love.

Lively but lonely
Friendly yet fragile!
My heart pounds to music,
Yet stays calm and wild!

They tagged it "Sentimental"
He called it "Most bright"
God marked it "A wild flower,
Fallen from the sky!"

To the reddish mountains,
And the muddy drops,
My life - disdained
Yet it seems to glow!

Amidst the bright darkness,
Of this lonely night,
I pen this to highlight
The flights of my fights!

How my life looks vain!
My birth - a disgrace,
I was born a queen,
Yet, slavery I face!

A burden to my shoulders,
A load to my sons,
A grief to my siblings,
A fun for everyone!

An antique - cheap in nature
A painting - known by none
A sculpture - made of sores
At the hands of asylums!

My vision isnt blurred,
Its the world that has flunked.
Yet, they call me "Funny"
And I call them "Junk!"
Written on 11th August, 2002.
The way the poem was named is hilarious. My roommate then, told me that one night I was woke her up from sleep only to ask her, "Haven't you got enough tears?' and go back to sleep again.
It was senseless. And so is the poem. Hence I thought the title is apt!
neth jones Jul 2021
my moat wet eyes
focus free
   with the manner of a poisoned animal
those feedy gemini apertures
    fidget inward
      upon an open wounded view
       unclothing a filmy slick
      so very faithful to the dead


      ripples cross my bed of sails
    i set pale
   in my atrophy
  each signal blunted
i am greatly wilted
sat planted
lazily hazed
a vehicle scuppered

riddles prate at my bed of veils
i set sail
in atrophy
each signal bloated
  fully unloaded
   a barrow at your feet
    i truly wither
     what power may you beam my form ?

      i'm frail in heart
atrophy
     between stars and the sea
   a failed flicker of no pity curses
a matrimony
   all signals mar
and spar out blotting

  a missile
misguided ?
         ; it preys on my trail
misdeeds played a trophy
   a lit penalty
i am most deletable

piteous
        i pray for the guff
to raise my head
filled to the tax of my atrophy
dissipated
oh mother of pigment
      lovingly wigged murderer of woes
  why can't we abstain from human directive ?
        forever foaming something criminal
    flunked corrective of the species rudder
               idle by into an atrophy
      a perishing menace
pungent

                              - fade out
[unclothing a filmy slick
      operation of a darkly mooded spyglass
churning on ! ;
       the search-syphon
inhaling of an unfiltered rough draught
a cyclic experience
revisits prying for a satisfying result :]
Touch –
An act that’s been corrupted
Even through clothes -
Your 2nd skin  

Yes,
I am
Presumptuous
Crossing a barrier
Erected by
The tyranny
Of a false decorum

We don’t touch that which
We fear, distrust, hate
So I touch you,
Your smooth unscarred arms,
Hug your broad
Sometimes slumping shoulders
As I tell you that
You remind me of my
Niece, the one in Vegas
Who danced
For her supper;
My nephew,
Kind, clever, innocent,
And dead.

Arrest me
For touching
Your face to allay
My fears; nightmare
Dreams of you sprawled
On some ***** 8X8, gas station
Bathroom floor
Searching your dreams
For the money, the needle,
The power to control
Your future

I can only give you
One key
A book
With hopes
That your 3rd grade
Self has not
Been forsaken and
You can read

I can’t teach you
What my fears
Teach me
Everyday

The news rings out
Pictures of lifeless
Black Bodies carried
From the filthy 8X8s
Potential men & women
Who’ve flunked
Their assignments
In search of ease,
Acceptance and
Painlessness

How strong are you?

My fears fall flat
Against the bathroom walls
That have touched your history
A history from which
Only you can
Draw on
That 8X8 cell

Strength
    or
Despair

                      By Gwen Davis-Feldman © 2016
Sam Temple Mar 2016
distant visions of dancing women
giving pause to the loggers
reeking of pine
wine glasses *****
and clinking friends make amends
sending bygones to faraway lands
bark chips in unkempt beards
appear in the florescent glow
to show a road map to the mountain
crags and snags left
for wildlife habitat
rabbit foot key chain bangs
the leg of a drunkard
who flunked out
yet runs the equipment of
a multimillion dollar outfit
no quit in the eyes
of men realizing self-worth
through **** of the earth
taped fingers set chokers snug
upon trees laid like rungs
up the barren hillside
fireside chats about bobcat tracks
and the rack on the elk that got away –
Austin Heath Jun 2014
Got that sinking feeling,
like a man taking off in an elevator.
Going up but somehow left behind.
I got that, "your time is up" aura
drowning me from all around,
inside and out.
Like being eaten by ants.
The hand that twitches
at high noon.
The ex-fastest.
The wick at it's end.
Wax running off the table.
Dying in a fever dream,
cold towel on my head.
Obsolete technology in a dump
next to banana peels and
soggy pornographic materials.
Yesterday's news being shredded
into todays toilet paper.
From a greasy grumpy retail worker
all the way
to a corpse in a crash test simulation.
Being fed your own organs,
genitals first.
Standing in a hail of glass
without an umbrella.
Standing at the edge of the world
with an Antagonist behind you
in steel toe boots. Glaring.
Possibly upset.
That just flunked bronze sensation.
A sinking feeling.
hi-I'm-X Apr 2014
I guess I should start off by telling you all, my name is a secret, which shouldn't matter anyways, because it would be nothing special with out the secrets. You can all call me, X, and my lover, O, which is ironic because I've never really kissed her. Oh that's another thing: I'm a lesbian who has seemed to lock herself up in the closet and can't find the key in the dark. I'm writing this now, because if I don't I think it might **** me. Maybe not the pops-pills or puts-a-gun-to-my-head kinda way but in the way where my heart is shattered and drops down into the pit of my stomach. The kind of **** me where I drink for the rest of my life every tuesday because that's when you would get drunk too and tell me you love me. Oh this is the worst part everybody: I'm in love with a straight girl who happens to be my best friend. I swear it didn't start out like this, but I dreamt of her one night when I was sick. She came to me in the middle of the night dressed in white silk and softly caressed my cheek. The next morning I had to text her, to see her words. She loved me too, for the first year. And I did a lot of thimgs wrong and hurt her so much, it cost me her love. See, she would hold my hand and press her head into my neck. We would lie on the roof and watch the stars fade and I'd draw gallaxies on her palm and plant kisses on her collar bone. Sometimes we'd both cry for the love of each other. I'd write her a song and she'd tell me whe couldn't live without me. Even with other people around, her hand would slip under the blankets and try to memorize my fingerprints. Then things started to change, because she started to talk to guys, which is normal for a 15 year old girl.  So I would cry myself to sleep and get drunk and send her mean text messages about how she hurt me and I hated the boys who got to see her green eyes so close and place their hands on her hip because she didn't do that with me anymore so she musn't love me as she said. Ill be honest with you, I broke the girl I love. As the years passed,  we faced so many hardships that I lost count. I was getting better at hold my feelings inside, its not like it was her fault,  I never told her that I loved her. I began to feel her slip away from me, which was a peculiar feeling because she had always held on so tight, so I'd get her drunk and tell her that I missed her so she'd let me hold her and in the morning I'd fake a headache and pretend it was the tequila talking. After a year of mostly self inflicted depression, I began to heal. Set boundaries for myself. I could go hours at a time without thinking of her name. She saw more boys, she had ***. The whole time she would tell me about it I had to hold my hands behindymy back to hide their shaking and swallow the bile rising from my throat. I hurt, but it got easier. I would slowly fade out of her life everytime she struck up a new fling because it was so obvious to me that she didn't need me anymore and I was just a burden. I began to let go of my anger when we'd be sitting in the car with her half listening to me when I was talking, with her phone glued to her hamd, texting her boy. After awhile I learned to be comfortale with the silence.she's leaving for college soon, and me being a year older,  I'm just the stay-in-your-home-town **** up that I always knew I would be, even with all the scholarships lined up and my parents willing to shell out thousands to let me pursue my dreams. I'm not gonna lie to you.. I flunked my algebra 2 class on purpose because I couldn't bare the thought of leaving her, even if she was happy to see me go. She knows I love her, maybe just not in what way because I can't help my self sometimes and I have to tell her that she's beautiful or that her eyes remind me of galaxies and her smile of sunsets. But I don't think she truly knows. As I said, shes going to college soon and even though its only two hours away, I know this is it. The last months of our friendship. You see, I won't be able to party with her on the weekends and watch her lock the doors of foreign bedrooms with a guy clinging to her waist. I used to think I was a terrible person for wanting to leave her like this but I honestly think its the best way. This is the time of her life when she'll be making life long friends, she won't need me. I can honestly say that ill miss her smile and her laugh and the way she breathes. Ill miss her shoulder blades, and her bad jokes, and her sass. Ill miss her warmth. But I will live.  I'm not good enough for her.. could never provide correctly or give her our own children.  Ill be the first to admit that I'm filled with flaws, I'm not beautiful, and I probably wouldn't love me either, I just need this page to keep me sane. You see, she knows of all my other accounts on here but now I'm just X. I like being X, its a nice letter.  I'm so sorry I've bored you with my life story, I'm just confused on why I hate myself when I have so much love to give, so this is me coping. Imwant you to know that everytime I write it'll probably be about her. If you've read this whole thing to the bottom, then thank you for listening, it honestly means a lot.
Taylor Webb Aug 2015
I invited the wolves at the door in for tea.
We calmly discussed my circumstances:
No money to pay rent,
No fulfillment in waiting tables,
No way to silence the noise catapulting through my brain.
Their crash-and-burn solutions were inelegant,
but held a certain visceral appeal.

I could drop it all and drive through the dizzying heat
in my old, un-air conditioned Ford.
I could drop out of college--why not?
I've flunked three semesters in a row.
I could balance just enough caliber under the ceiling of my mouth,
and pull a trigger.
The *******-esque spatter of blood
would be my crowning artistic achievement.

"You're not getting any better," the wolves explained.
They were right.
The sinister beauty of depression is in its ups and downs,
the way it coaxes you into believing, just maybe,
you're finally getting better,
you've finally escaped the labyrinth,
but the wolves always come knocking again.

They always seem to know where to find me.
ManVsYard Oct 2014
I yawn and raise my arms up high
awaken from my rest.
I think about a dream I had
a-bout a little test.

A test in life, a guage of how
asleep I was and for how long
an hour, a day, some months or years?
Someone must have banged a gong

I did not search for time clues
but I found then anyway
scrapyard reciepts, swarthy rhyming tweets
no hint that I would hit the hay

A plan to set a few things right
clean up my crowded cluttered life
I must have made too much progress
or
maybe I just flunked the test

Round 73

I yanw and raise my arms.....
John Bartholomew Feb 2018
If you are not like me then you will never probably see
The million thoughts I dream of being everyday
A sailor, a wrestler, but never a candlestick maker (ambition people, come on!)

We all think outside the box but end up never breaking out
Tesco’s, stuck on the till, idealist conceptions up on a hill but sat here earning nowt

Its human instinct to better yourself
Flunked GCSE’s, a mortgage to pay but still dreaming of better days

Am I the only one who thinks like this
I work to live, not live to work, the optimist in me always wanting his bliss

Life begins to **** this wanting of a concept
Sorry lads, the time is now, be like them and live with the debts

It’s what you do that counts, that journey from start to finish
Live like a king or slide away and diminish,

A million thoughts

JJB
"It is better to fail in originality than to succeed in imitation." -- Herman Melville
"Opportunities don't happen. You create them." -- Chris Grosser
"Success is walking from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm." -- Winston Churchill
allison May 2016
I can't help but relentlessly plead for a time capsule so that I could meet you sooner. If I had, I wouldn't have fell for that guy on the soccer team who began to take his anger out on me, instead of the sport.  And he wouldn't have had the chance to break my phone and give me a black eye for adding a picture of a concert to Instagram.  I wouldn't have flunked my first year of college because I was too busy doing drugs in hopes of feeling happier.  I would have spent my time kissing you and screaming out I love you, instead of using my mouth for excessive amounts of alcohol and pills.  And maybe I would have never cut or burned myself in hopes of growing prettier skin back throughout high school.  I would have learned to love myself a lot sooner.  However, I can't help but be thankful for these experiences and gracious my wish has yet to come true.  Looking back, I realize each and every one has given me a healthier, more positive mind-set.
Mark Donnelly Jan 2018
Shifty Mac an Irish drunk,
He plies his trade with *****,
Be it beer scotch or skunk,
He imbibes the lot by the trunk,
Shenanigans he presents to those he punk,
He doth no monk,
He stumbles and gropes till a thunk,
A smack a cross the lips for this drunk,
On the floor he lay as the sun hath sunk,
He arise by the light of dawn on his bunk,
Oh how he flunked.
A character.

— The End —