"girls" poems
i will wade out
till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
Alive
with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
Will i complete the mystery
of my flesh
I will rise
After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
And set my teeth in the silver of the moon
314.6k
during my worst times
on the park benches
in the jails
or living with
******
I always had this certain
contentment-
I wouldn't call it
happiness-
it was more of an inner
balance
that settled for
whatever was occuring
and it helped in the
factories
and when relationships
went wrong
with the
girls.
it helped
through the
wars and the
hangovers
the backalley fights
the
hospitals.
to awaken in a cheap room
in a strange city and
pull up the shade-
this was the craziest kind of
contentment
and to walk across the floor
to an old dresser with a
cracked mirror-
see myself, ugly,
grinning at it all.
what matters most is
how well you
walk through the
fire.
141.9k
listen
beloved
i dreamed
it appeared that you thought to
escape me and became a great
lily atilt on
insolent
waters but i was aware of
fragrance and i came riding upon
a horse of porphyry into the
waters i rode down the red
horse shrieking from splintering
foam caught you clutched you upon my
mouth
listen
beloved
i dreamed in my dream you had
desire to thwart me and became
a little bird and hid
in a tree of tall marble
from a great way i distinguished
singing and i came
riding upon a scarlet sunset
trampling the night easily
from the shocked impossible
tower i caught
you strained you
broke you upon my blood
listen
beloved i dreamed
i thought you would have deceived
me and became a star in the kingdom
of heaven
through day and space i saw you close
your eyes and i came riding
upon a thousand crimson years arched with agony
i reined them in tottering before
the throne and as
they shied at the automaton moon from
the transplendant hand of sombre god
i picked you
as an apple is picked by the little peasants for their girls
82.4k
We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."
We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.
I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.
I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.
Almost.
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 5:46 AM UTC
***** ***** I **** *****
***** get ****** when I **** *****
No ifs, ands, and/or buts!
I **** ***** I **** *****
Nice girls are nice, but no good for nut-sucking.
They'll need a serene night to green-light a butt-fucking,
but that'll be easy with ****** ol' slut-fucking!
Boo to the nice girls! Praise be to slut-fucking!
I have a list. A list? Yes, a list of all the ***** I've missed.
I've never ****** or ****** these ***** and thus my nuts are ******* ******
So when I **** the lucky **** my nut removes her from the list---
another dumb cumbucket struck from my nut-sucking,
**** it, **** slut-fucking bucket list.
***** can be white, brown, pink, or almond.
They can be skinny with big **** or skinny with small ones.
***** can be perky, preppy, or posh,
with their brains and their clothes all shrunk from the wash.
But other ***** are pretty and funny and smart.
They can lift your thoughts from your **** to your heart.
They can talk about science, music, or art.
They can put you together or pull you apart.
But don't trust these ***** Don't! Don't you dare!
They'll force you to trust them and love them and care.
And then they'll be gone and then you'll be aware
of that hole in your heart that that dumb **** left there.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 9:54 AM UTC
I am a miserable ****
Traffic jam thoughts.
Aimless speech.
Fever dreams,
coffee with no cream,
love with no pulse,
alone at restaurants,
at grocery stores,
at parties.
I have no identity.
Shifting shape, black to blue,
trading girls, red hair for Persian skin,
parents and gods,
politicians and lost purpose mobs,
all asking me to be sacred,
to be loving,
to be trusting,
to be active,
to have no spine.
All I want is a bit of my own time.
A grenade of change,
to end the coagulation of my brain,
to leave me hungry for anything
other than me,
didn't somebody say I was promised something?
I was going somewhere?
I was unique?
I am the same miserable ****
As every other miserable ****
The ******* that cut you off on Highway 62,
The person that complained about too many pickles,
on his precious fast food,
The boy yelling at his baby sister for getting too much attention,
The girl sexting your boyfriend,
The boy sexing your girlfriend,
The generation divorcing everyone it knows so it can fall in love with
itself.
All different,
in exactly the same way.
Traffic jam thoughts. Traffic jam thoughts.
Traffic jam thoughts. Traffic jam thoughts.
trafficjamthoughts. traffic. Traffic Jam Thoughts. Thoughts.
Traffic. Traffic. Traffic. Traffic. Traffic. Traffic. Jam.
thoughts. traffic. trafficjam. trafficjam. traffic jam thoughts.traffic.
traffic jam. traffic, traffic, traffic. I am a miserable **** Traffic jam.
Aug 16, 2010
Aug 16, 2010 at 9:28 AM UTC
like cellophane wraps hard candy
like ink loves to dry
like hot sauce drenches noodles
like sunrise casts shadows
like band-aids sooth cut flesh
like irons crease linens
like origami folds paper
like water floats boats
like a tempest loves a teapot
like syrup and bananas drench waffles
like spoons love soup
like cats love fish
like french fries love ketchup
like wild girls dance
like a crow loves road ****
like eyes love beauty
like a circle loves a square
like buttered buns fit a bikini
like a kissed mouth hungers for wet lips
like moths love a flame
like dogs love ********
and like ******* hug butts
like howling ******* pulse hearts
like vampires love blood and castles
like dark grapes ferment in bubbling cauldrons
like madness loves a straight jacket
like a ***** loves a ****
and music gets you dancing
like suns fall through cobalt night all smashing diamonds
that's
how i love you
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 2:53 PM UTC
Pink,high heels,dresses, girls.
stereotypes
men were pink
drag queens wear heels
image of an over femmed woman
to hide the man
boys wear dresses to hide
every one is different
**** stereotypes
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
I am slowly learning to disregard the insatiable desire to be special. I think it began, the soft piano ballad of epiphanic freedom that danced in my head, when you mentioned that “Van Gogh was her thing” while I stood there in my overall dress, admiring his sunflowers at the art museum. And then again on South Street, while we thumbed through old records and I picked up Morrissey and you mentioned her name like it was stuck in your teeth. Each time, I felt a paintbrush on my cheeks, covering my skin in grey and fading me into a quiet, concealed background that hummed “everything you’ve ever loved has been loved before, and everything you are has already been,” on an endless loop. It echoed in your wrists that I stared at, walking (home) in the middle of the street, and I felt like a ghost moving forward in an eternal line, waiting to haunt anyone who thought I was worth it. But no one keeps my name folded in their wallet. Only girls who are able to carve their names into paintings and vinyl live in pockets and dust bunnies and bathroom mirrors. And so be it, that I am grey and humming in the background. I am forgotten Sundays and chipped fingernail polish and borrowed sheets. I’m the song you’ll get stuck in your head, but it will remind you of someone else. I am 2 in the afternoon, I am the last day of winter, I am a face on the sidewalk that won’t show up in your dreams. And I am everywhere, and I am nothing at all.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 12:34 PM UTC
Burning fuel but not to leave,
boys circled town, came back
to the station where they began.
Gas exhaust drifted like spirits
above asphalt, dissolving in the night.
Girls stayed in the lot,
waiting for men old enough
to buy liquor, their names
claiming the land-
long after other names lay
buried in the ground.
They kept to the faces,
legs folded on hoods,
lip gloss catching the station lights,
bracelets chiming, hair flips rehearsed,
laughing at trucks circling back.
They wanted to be chosen, and I tried
to want that too- tried to be a girl among girls,
waiting for the moment some hand
would tug me out of the circle.
But my eyes kept straying-
across the street,
to the rise that was not just dirt
but a chest under earth,
ribs shifting,
a hum curling into my throat.
Something skeletal in its patience,
as if Baykok himself
were sharpening arrows in the dark,
waiting for breath to break.
Built long before us by Ojibwe,
still honored as sacred ground.
The others smoked, struck sparks,
sequins spilling from careless wrists,
never thinking how easily flame
might travel down, through us,
into what we couldn’t see.
I could hear bones shifting,
a buried drumbeat, the land’s own warning.
Every glance of the mound
pulled me back into silence.
It told me what the others
didn’t want to know-
that all this circling, waiting,
was only the lid of a grave.
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 12:02 AM UTC
( i )
I lucked out
on table 4 last night
window seat
baseboard heat
with intimate passages
from Ginsberg
in his purest
and most evident form
Cover-all Carl was draped
in his usual garb
(turning pages
of yesterday's news)
animating, culturing, bantering
on the fate of the
Greek barber
(in an accent of which
I'm not so sure)
His cronies
looked on
(with a twisted conviction)
countering
with their own tales
of ingovernance and woe
*did you know that Panasonic
lost 5 billion last quarter?*
The evening moved
in time lapse...
with painted winds,
streaming lights
and a host of
high school girls
running cold
Maleah passed
on her late shift
(checking the pile and trough),
patronized the boys
and called it a night
( ii )
The bald man
is back at it again
bickering at the till
(something about
a cold free coffee
or 99 cents
or the coloured guy
behind him who got it hot)
a kind Filipino
is trying to get it done
(at 8 bucks per)
losing her cool
and shedding a quiet tear
Wonder what the Purewals
or Haitians or Cossacks
would have to say
about this grim public reminder,
wonder what
this sad f*ck
will do tonight...
without his
bus pass
or sling sack
or broken Turkish stems
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 2:37 PM UTC
He pulled and parked the supply red wagon,
then climbed the mast to the captain's cabin.
Captain Red is ready for adventure.
A quest to collect the world's best treasure.
His pirate crew is renowned far and wide.
They're rough and tough and they don't ever cry.
But none of them boys has the captain's stuff.
So don't mess with him, man, cause he don't bluff.
This motley crew has achieved many feats,
has never suffered a single defeat,
and has seen the most incredible things:
whales, whirlpools, storms, mermaids, krakens and kings.
"Set sail," squaws the boss as he munches lunch
and the Ocean Destroyer leaves port Wunche.
These rolling green hills are now ocean waves.
That blue sky, however, remains the same.
...
"Hey Benjamin!" beams the first mate Susanne.
Impeding the journey that just began.
"We already played this game. It's my turn!"
The first mate trumps the captain, Ben will learn.
...
Her spacesuit crew is renowned far and wide.
They're smart and nice and they don't ever lie.
But none of these girls has commander's stuff.
So don't mess with her, girl, cause she don't bluff.
This brainy crew has achieved many feats,
has never suffered a single defeat,
and has seen the most incredible things:
aliens, black holes, stars, and martian springs.
"Lift off!" beams the boss as she munches lunch
and the Star Chasing Rocket leaves base Wunche.
These rural backyards are now rocky space.
That blue sky, however, remains the same.
...
"Hey Susanne!" beams the pilot Benjamin.
Impeding the flight before it begins.
"We already played this game. It's my turn!"
The pilot trumps commander, Sue will learn.
...
Boys and girls grow up and out the front door.
Those children’s games evolve to adult chores;
those kiddy lawns to grandparent’s domain.
That blue sky, however, remains the same.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 5:58 PM UTC
Tears,
Shatter.
The floor,
Cracks.
Against the splashes,
You hear them splat.
Your heart beats furiously.
The girls heart breaks.
She falls.
Eyes shut.
The hits,
Leave cuts.
Her smile,
Vanished.
Against her own will,
She lashes.
Screaming,
"Mother, no!"
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 3:04 AM UTC
When I was just a little girl,
And as little girls were taught then,
I played with dolls and a teaset,
Made mudcakes for food,
Wore skirts, made my hair into ponytails as I was let.
I saw the boys with the abandon which comes with free wear and play,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.
When I was older, a teen
and as teen girls were taught then,
Walk, talk, rock softly
Don’t draw too much attention
Or attempt to explore too much.
I saw the boys then with the abandon which comes with freedom to play, sit, be as they want ,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.
When I was sixteen, oh sweet sixteen,
And as sixteen year old girls were taught then,
Don’t wear clothes that show your frame,
That’s indecent and you will be in another home and will incur alot of blame.
Don’t wander, argue, or express an opinion,
You’re a girl, being humble, quiet and gentle becomes you.
I saw the boys then with the abandon which comes with freedom of movement and speech,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.
When I was older, and passionately sought a particular career,
I was admonished as many other girls in my time,
It’s not a career for women, late nights, more men to be around,
When you get married, that’s not going to work and troubles will abound.
I saw the boys then with the abandon which comes with the freedom of pursuing their dreams,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.
When I was married, and setting a home, working and raising a family,
I left my work as many other girls in my time,
For my husband to follow his work path,
Unquestioningly, unflinchingly, resolutely.
I saw the men then with the abandon which comes with freedom of being in control of their lives,
And I thought to myself, why am I a girl.
But this is just the surface of my questioning being a girl,
When boys and men around tried their stunts on girls and women,
I questioned my existence.
When many girls and women I know,
Were told to stay mum on men close who took advantage of them
I questioned my existence.
When In the workspace,
Women got paid less than men because their salary were subtly looked at as secondary salaries,
Or needed to speak louder to be heard,
I questioned my existence.
When the onus of keeping a relationship working was the woman’s responsibility largely,
I questioned my existence.
When a woman got hit by her spouse,
Its she who may have provoked him.
When a man strayed,
Its she who was not a good enough wife that he had to look elsewhere.
I questioned my existence.
The atrocities many men are capable of,
The filth many men spread,
**** hate, aggression, manipulation and more
Abuse, gaslighting inside closed doors,
Wearing a mask of sophistication outside
Animalistic and entitled beings to the core.
My apologies to men who are not,
And I know some,
But they are but a handful,
Too insignificant in the larger way the world works.
But then I see me,
A harbinger of change,
In my home and around.
Raising my son differently,
Advocating for change purposively,
Actioning resolutely what’s right,
Woman for women with all my might.
I see so many more women now who retain their selves and are beacons of hope,
They don’t sit around and just mope.
And I am glad I am a girl,
And I question no more,
I question no more.
Feb 16, 2020
Feb 16, 2020 at 4:28 AM UTC
You have been with me from the start soft
Hard, never bothered which one you were
When I was young at heart.
I used to pull you my second brain, little soft
Then long and hard,as I grew, you grew with
Me a friend that never left. Only in the cold I
Wondered where you are.
The years did pass and hair you grew, where
Once I had pulled, now you just went hard.
Embarrassed I was as always hard around
The girls, some laughed while others played
With it spitting at them when excitedly hard.
Age moved on my friend for life still with me
Still getting hard but when I wanted you no
More embarrassment on my face at random hard.
My second brain, getting wasted each day, never
Unclean as cheesy smell I do not want as girls would
Run a far.
We played in the wetness we have come so far letting
The children out in the damp park. My wife screamed
Harder deeper my god your big I love your hardness
Up me and the children were excited out of the umbrella
They went a bit to far.
You have been with me through the soft and the
Hard, got me in trouble, now three children later
I must end your spitting but you can still go hard.
***** your my friend to the end when we had no
One a palm and a video was are night in, then softly
You went as to sleep in my palm, from the beginning
Through the soft and the hard.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC
He made sure I knew just how lucky I was to have him
But he never hit me
He played games with my emotions repeatedly
But he never hit me
He made sure I didn’t leave the house in a skirt above the knees
But he never hit me
He knew the words to say to make me feel so small that I could not breathe
But he never hit me
He tossed me in and out, in and out, until my mind was in an out of control tizzy
But he never hit me
He messed around on the side late at night while I rested in our bed
But he never hit me
He made it clear that I wasn’t to go out at night with the girls
But he never hit me
He told me over and over again just how hard it would be to find anyone else to deal with me
But he never hit me
He fell asleep safe and sound as I laid in bed trying to catch my breath through tears
But he never hit me
He needed to have the password to every device, app and account
But he never hit me
He knew the power he held and used it over my head to weaken me
But he never hit me
He made jokes at my expense in front of friends and family and we all giggled together instead of cringed
But he never hit me
He assured me the women he texted were coworkers or colleagues but I could never know what they spoke of
But he never hit me
He made it clear that my interests and goals were not of pertinence
But he never hit me
He knew the exact words to say to take my entire day downhill
But he never hit me
He broke my heart over and over and over again until it was minuscule shreds
But he never hit me
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 8:06 PM UTC
You can’t compare yourself
With the unbroken girls
Surrounding you
You already shattered
Creating
A new form
Of beautiful
-jt
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 4:16 AM UTC
Where do I start
How should i begin,
I guess i will just write
until the very end,
I could start with my name
and where i am from,
Yes, I will start with that
and then more will come,
My name is Dylan
and I was born in North Carolina,
I am nineteen years old
but I feel even older,
I look much younger or so I am told
My days are long and filled with joy
I have a daughter
No, not a boy
I work, go to school, and am a father
I own my own business
As God as my witness
I have a beautiful companion
who is full of life
She is my joy
No, not a boy
My two girls are my life
one is my daughter
The other my future wife
My Passion is Business
My title is Entrepreneur
I love what i do
Which is more than most
If you love your work
Than you too can boast
My business is a brand
Perception Apparel is the name
I create unique Clothes
And nothing is quite the same
Check me out,
The website is the name!
Among my hobbies sports are fairly high
Basketball is my favorite
Still not sure why
Other interests may include:
Food, movies, and long walks on the beach
This is begining to sound like a date
I can't think of anything else to say
My life in 300 words
It is sort of sad in a way
My life in one paragraph
Yet i have nothing left to say?
Well It seems I have begun to rant
I hope now you may know me
There is not much to see
For this is all there is to me
In essence of time
let's bring this to a close
And if you are lost, this was my Prose.
Oct 22, 2011
Oct 22, 2011 at 9:36 AM UTC
"i'm watching you, stupid ***** Madison pointed at pyper as the girls made there way out of the dining room. "thats enough madison." Cordelia scolded. Nan followed pyper up the stairs into her bedroom. "why are you following me?" pyper asked, looking at nan in disgust. rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "you have madisons money." nan crossed her arms and smiled. "excuse me??" pyper replied as if she were offended by Nans accusation. "mhm, and you have zoeys sunglasses.., cassies ipod, and 25 dollars you stole from emilys purse. along with her art pencils." nan replied. "wow, you're A cleptomaniac." Nan laughed. "okay, how do you know all of this???" Pyper asked, her cheeks red from embarissment, and her head lowered in shame. "i'm psychic. i can read minds." nan explained. suddenly cassie walked past pypers room in search of her stolen ipod. "has anyone seen my pink ipod???" Cassie questioned, it was sitting on my bed, and now i can't find it anywhere. " she looked around hopelessly. "well then look in your room cassie. give me 5 minutes and i'll help you look." pyper shouted. "wow, you're a real piece of work arent you?" nan rolled her eyes and chuckled. "what is your angle, nan?" Pyper questioned, rolling her eyes aswell. saying names name as if she were mocking the whole idea of her. "my angle, PYPER. is this, you give everyone there **** back or i'm telling cordelia and you're out of here." Nan smerked. "you're not going to tell on me anyway?" pyper asked sadly. "no, not onless you do it again." nan sighed, "we stick together here, we're a family, we don't steele eachother down thats not what we're about." nan explained sympatheticly. "wow, thats funny because that's all my real family ever did." pyper replied with big sad puppy dog eyes. nan nodded, "i'm not here to listen to your ******** excuses or your sob stories. if saying that you've had a hard life, and never had anything given to you. and the world owes you. helps you get to sleep at night then fine, cool beans. but i'm not buying that shit. and these girls don't owe you anything. now, i expect everyone to have there **** back by the morning, or i will tell cordelia." nan sighed and rolled her eyes. "okay." pyper nodded with a wounded look upon her face. Cassie stood outside of the door, still listening. her eyebrows raised in anger. and then made her way up the stairs and into madisons room. "what are you doing here pipsquick. im NOT in the mood." Madison sobbed. "oh i think you're in the mood for this, i know who took your money." Cassie smiled.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
They didn't know what Diversity was...
The kids, that is.
Since the kids didn't know it,
the teacher coined it as "“black” visibility".
She wasn't sure if she could make that call
so she nodded her head, looking for approval.
The interviewer asked in what direction did the teacher see Diversity
As if Diversity was a one-way street.
Let me just refresh your memory...
"“black” visibility"
As if decades of progress in the schools were undone,
The kids voted on Performances and Projects for “black” History Month.
How shocking!... Kids of every shape, size, ability and race studying a time in history...
Sounds racist to me.
They wanted a Gospel Choir that is clearly only for “black” students
Because I'm the student Director for the Fordham University's Rhythm of Praise Gospel Chior for the fourth year running...
Maybe I'm missing something...
MAYBE I'm “black”... Maybe if I close my eyes really tight...
Nope, I'm still “white”.
Olive brown perhaps?
Only in the summer.
Anyway, I digress like Sophia Patrilo from the Goldren Girls
Who was Italian by the way.
Just advertising for Diversity.
Let's debate about "Music Debates" for a moment.
Maybe you call it Debates because Hip Hop is debatable, and by the way only for “black” students.
When I could argue for days upon days
About how Reggaeton didn't come from Salsa
but I know **** well that Salsa came first.
The kids wanted to Stomp the Yard and battle it out.
I do believe rap battles take place around the world
And one of the best rappers I know is an English teacher in Harlem
Whose hair is redder than a leprechaun.
Talent Shows that showcase every student's ability
Whether it be singing, dancing, performing their poetry,
But still apparently that's not Diversity.
Neither is an International Day
Where International ways are celebrated.
And finally, a Diversity Day,
That clearly means diversity is separated.
"They wanted a lot of things"
Yeah. They asked for a whole lot... of everything BUT diversity.
That's right, because they don't know what it means
The Kids, that is...
Then tell me please:
Define Diversity.
Is it seeing a “black” horse with “white” stripes
Or a “white” horse with “black” stripes?
Why is it between “black” and “white”?
Why not between “white”, “black” brown, yellow, orange, brick red...
Let's get it out of our head
That teachers can't learn anything from their students,
Because it sounds to me,
Like they had a pretty good start to the meaning of Diversity.
And if it turns out they didn't,
That's what teachers are there for:
Make a **** lesson about it.
Sep 26, 2011
Sep 26, 2011 at 2:16 PM UTC
When i was 13 I thought that gay and straight were things that other people were
People that weren't raised christian
People that didn't have dads
People that were abused
People that i should pray for but not get close to
when i was 14 my best friend came out as gay
i didn't see it coming but i probably should have
she wore ties every day
and plaid shirts with the sleeves rolled up
and cut her hair short as soon as she could
but i didn’t see it because gay was other people
when i was 14 i watched as the news spread like wildfire
“did you hear? that girl is gay.”
I watched as people slowly backed away from her
people that knew her all her life
that is, the people that didn’t cut her off instantly
I watched as the youth group we had both attended asked her to leave
I watched as her drama group kicked her out because they were afraid of the yearly camp we went to
that somehow knowing that she was gay made her more likely to attack the other girls in their beds than the year before
I watched.
I didn’t do anything.
what changed my mind wasn’t a change of perspective on queer people
it still took me a year to decide being gay wasn’t wrong
but i decided that my best friend was someone i would stick with
because i loved her
I quietly stayed.
didn’t make a fuss, didn’t call people out when they called her names behind her back.
I should have.
but i didn’t.
I didn’t join in, but i didn’t defend her
i didn’t say to these people
**** you
that girl is beautiful and amazing
and if you can’t see through your hatred then i don’t want to be your friend either
but i didn’t .
I didn’t go through what she did.
I didn’t get kicked out of anything, i didn’t lose friends
When i was 15, i got fed up
I left that drama group.
I stopped going to that church.
I stepped away from those friends and even though i never said why
the look on my face when i ran into them and they asked, “how’s she doing?”
answered that question for them.
I spent 24 hours examining my bible
trying to find the verses that say being gay is wrong
there were barely any
and they were right next to verses that said eating pork was wrong
or planting crops next to each other
or wearing two different fabrics
there was my answer.
this isn't a story of my journey.
This isn't me building myself up
“hey, I wasn't as bad as those other people
I’m good now”
this is a story of how one person can change your life forever
if i didn't have a gay best friend
what a way to start a story, huh?
if i didn't have a gay best friend then I would still be there
quietly praying for the sins of others, but not trying to understand
so don’t look at all Christians and say
they’re awful
they’re bigoted
they’re judgmental
because we are
but often it’s because we don’t know any better
teaching us kindly works
leading by example.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 1:27 AM UTC
If I could tell you,
every thing you want to know,
I would,
but my walls are to hard to take down,
but every time,
you speak to me,
they crumble to the ground,
and i hope, you'll be by my side,
when death succumbs to me...
beautiful boy who cares,
you sing a song that only I can hear,
I cant get enough of you,
the happy little messages you send to me,
i cant explain,
you aren't like other boys.
oh, beautiful boy,
I've never felt this way before!
all the other girls and boys I've been with,
i never truly love this hard,
you understand my darkness,
you under stand my deadly thoughts,
Oh walk through the strawberry fields with me,
saying nothing is real,
walking on starlight and dancing in moon dust,
your hair capturing the shine of the night,
i want to give you the universe,
and hold your hand,
falling through the sun by your side,
capturing the light of your eyes,
picture yourself,
falling through time,
what thoughts will flow through your mind?
your hands held in mine,
in synchronized meditation,
open up your third eye,
were your atoms next to mine?
did our souls entwine?
picture yourself,
laying in a field of grass,
with your head next to mine,
watching the butterflies glide,
the seasons are changing,
are you still next to me?
with the leaves off the trees,
this isn't electric,
this is calm,
with explosive colors,
i'm not falling,
i'm walking,
i'm willingly going to you...
are you walking to me?
do you picture it too?
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 1:37 PM UTC
//the door to your bedroom was a portal to a world unseen
your bed, the ocean
& your sheets, the sand
with the crevices caused by the tide
it flowed so sweetly over the soft sand
beyond the door, serenity was foreign to you
you were only there when you needed to be
you, who had knit the thickest wool to pull over my eyes
thicker than the blindfold we used
the frenzy I remember
frenzy further cured with discipline
and you know what?
"I like that ***** ****
how will you discipline me today, daddy?
it was what you taught me after all
to be a brat for no one but you
to be no one else's little girl
if not I'd be a bad girl
bad girls get punished
bad girls get no love
so I saved you the trouble and left my collar at the door//
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 8:15 PM UTC