"guarantees" poems
(for Christopher Isherwood)
Seated after breakfast
In this white-tiled cabin
Arabs call the House where
Everybody goes,
Even melancholics
Raise a cheer to Mrs.
Nature for the primal
Pleasure She bestows.
*** is but a dream to
Seventy-and-over,
But a joy proposed un-
-til we start to shave:
Mouth-delight depends on
Virtue in the cook, but
This She guarantees from
Cradle unto grave.
Lifted off the *****
Infants from their mothers
Hear their first impartial
Words of worldly praise:
Hence, to start the morning
With a satisfactory
Dump is a good omen
All our adult days.
Revelation came to
Luther in a privy
(Crosswords have been solved there)
Rodin was no fool
When he cast his Thinker,
Cogitating deeply,
Crouched in the position
Of a man at stool.
All the arts derive from
This ur-act of making,
Private to the artist:
Makers' lives are spent
Striving in their chosen
Medium to produce a
De-narcissus-ized en-
During excrement.
Freud did not invent the
Constipated miser:
Banks have letter boxes
Built in their façade
Marked For Night Deposits,
Stocks are firm or liquid,
Currencies of nations
Either soft or hard.
Global Mother, keep our
Bowels of compassion
Open through our lifetime,
Purge our minds as well:
Grant us a king ending,
Not a second childhood,
Petulant, weak-sphinctered,
In a cheap hotel.
Keep us in our station:
When we get pound-notish,
When we seem about to
Take up Higher Thought,
Send us some deflating
Image like the pained ex-
-pression on a Major
Prophet taken short.
(Orthodoxy ought to
Bless our modern plumbing:
Swift and St. Augustine
Lived in centuries
When a stench of sewage
Made a strong debating
Point for Manichees.)
Mind and Body run on
Different timetables:
Not until our morning
Visit here can we
Leave the dead concerns of
Yesterday behind us,
Face with all our courage
What is now to be.
13.9k
Mom makes you smile for a picture in front of the bus
on your very first day of school,
"You only have one first day of kindergarten!" she says.
But every time you hear the scratching of leather seats,
You are back to that day
When tears rolled off your tiny pink cheeks,
onto the front of your Lion King tee shirt
The first time you ever had to be afraid that you
would never see her again.
Brother tells you not to worry about the boy that bothered you,
the impact of a fist on his right eye is a warning
that guarantees he'll never disrespect a girl again.
But every time you step in the pebbles on a playground,
You're still struggling to run just slow enough not to slip
yet fast enough to keep from being caught and held captive
by the first boy to ever kiss you without permission.
Grandma tells you to "appreciate today" every day
because you'll never get it back.
But every time you hear the crash of waves against a shoreline,
You're there with her in your favorite place in the world.
And the sun is overhead with looks of never coming down,
But you'd be okay if it did because you swear these colors of
the sunset don't exist when you see it from anywhere else
And you never feel so close to God as you feel right here.
Dad is sad when you're growing up
because you'll only be little once.
But every time you get the surprising scent of metal and grease,
You're five years old again and dad is getting home from work
and he lifts you up in a hug and you bury your face in his shirt and breathe in,
And you're confident that he will carry you to bed later that night
on that same shoulder when you fall asleep on the couch.
You're told over and over to forgive
and your mother keeps trying, too.
But every time a green van passes by,
you're a vulnerable twelve-year-old with a record that says easy prey
and you're back at that police station and you're both still crying
and forgiveness still seems so far away.
Everyone tells you that "first love"
is something you only feel once.
But every time September rolls around,
You're still staring back into the first eyes to look at you in awe,
His palms feel sweaty in yours but you don't mind.
And you can still taste his lips and smell the sweet mint Stride on his breath
and you feel everything.
It’s strange how they promise that you can't turn back time,
yesterday is gone,
today will only happen once.
Because I go back all the time;
And I still feel everything.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
Spring is the awaited child,
seeds to plant, plans to explore,
conjuring promise and renewal,
That awakens our soul.
Summer inspires with long
sunny days basking in the
embrace of green crops growing,
relief from heat under leafy trees,
leisurely nights of clean skies,
bright stars on high to infinity.
Fall comes as a warning beacon,
days of long shadows,
cool nights with chill breeze,
bedecked trees
in reds and yellow.
The report of hunters guns
from the depths of the forest.
Winter's a prelude to gloom,
short days, low sun when it
appears, wind-chills that burn.
Snow to shovel, ice to befuddle.
Conjuring envy and impatience
for the return of Spring.
So the seasons flow
one into another,
while every year lived
the cycles grow shorter,
with no guarantees of
how many more may follow.
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 12:00 AM UTC
Take a few minutes
Each and every day
Stand in front of the mirror
Look at your reflection
And ask yourself a few questions
"How are you feeling today?"
Ask politely, pause for a heartbeat or two
"What's wrong?" With sincerity, mind you
Because no one is as strong as they think
"I haven't seen so-and-so for a while!
It's so good to finally meet up with them again."
Reminisce on good times long gone
Imagine the future he'll give you
"Do you really want to have to go through with this?"
Ask yourself, staring into your own eyes
Put down the razor and the skin cream
Put away the curling iron and the makeup
Give up the fad diet and the guarantees
Stop worrying about what your parents will say
Smile at yourself in the mirror
Wink and lean in close
So close your breath fogs up the mirror
Have a good long laugh
Send a few thoughts up his way
'Cause he's looking down from paradise
And believe me when I say
That God loves all his children as they are
After all, he did make you that way
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 9:47 PM UTC
*Differentiate impression
to understand the question
that guarantees concession
of alternate force of will.*
Mar 23, 2012
Mar 23, 2012 at 3:14 AM UTC
Mouth full of metal
Pocket full of teeth (broke)
These are the trials for perfect smiles
Our loss their gain
The dentists make money again
Weekly monthly wires crossing replacing
Wondering if its even worth it
Like false guarantees: "won't be like on TV"
Not even close.
Mouth full of wires
Pocket full of stones
One stops you at the airport-
The other at the bottom of the bay...
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 1:49 PM UTC
If I were to be a day of the week,
I would be a Tuesday
Not a Monday, bright and yellow
Understanding that today “there be dragons here”
and we must be Ready to conquer, ready to claim,
ready to fight
Not Wednesday, Orange and steady
Containing a consistency that reminds us
we can make it, we will make it
And not the vibrant green Thursday
Full of promise, anticipation
And the hope of what’s to come
But nor am I the explosive Friday
Dark, and passionate, dedicated
To the thrill and fervor of life
Or a Silver Saturday
Slick and slippery with the idea
Of adventure but that holds no guarantees
Yet still I cannot be Sunday
Muted Gold with warm mornings
and laid back afternoons but always
With the lingering remembrance of tomorrow
No, I am Tuesday
I am faded red
I am the waiting day
The looked over bridge of
What’s now, what’s next
Stuck forever in some delicate limbo
I am the stepping stone
The illusive day floating in and out
Behind the scenes, behind the week
I am tuesday
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
A blood red sunset drips over
the black asphalt city skyline
somewhere in a lost part of America
where the dream has
long been dead and buried
and hate and fear rule
the rural streets that are protected
by peace keepers
that practice ******
more often than upholding the law
It has been declared open season
on any crow the color
of a starless night sky
and the dove has become
a symbol of
to protect and serve
their own kind
birds of a feather
that cover for one another
justice is blinded
by the snow covered truth
and the color of corruption
is coincidentally the same
as the color of money
the poor have little choice
but to trade their bones
and their hopes
to the corporations
of the new land
of the free
to be owned by
and controlled by
a minimum wage
that only guarantees
to keep the poor
poor enough
to work another day
and another day
and another day
until there bones are
nothing but powder
and their beds
are nothing but coffins
for the barely living
and life somewhere
in a lost part of America
at the end of everyday
the sky turns red
and the color of blood
runs through the streets
as the doves go along
with their business
of the murdering of crows
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 10:27 PM UTC
you'd like to argue 'no, your grades don't indicate your intelligence'
because you have bad grades and
you don't want to think of yourself as stupid
and now you've settled yourself into a pit of
oh, I have bad grades, but that means
I'm smart in a better way than them,
it's like a smug superior thing,
like 'those people have such an ordinary intelligence'
and 'here I am, someone whose mind
cannot be contained by this fragile institution'
and you've made yourself satisfied with your bad grades
because you think yourself to be unorthodoxically intelligent
and those who have good grades
are boring, pointless individuals.
you don't want to feel bad about yourself
or put in the work to make them better
so you decided this mindset would work best for you
but I'd like to propose that yes, your grades do indicate your intelligence-
it's only a certain kind of intelligence,
mind you,
but it's the type of intelligence we measure
as ordinary intelligence.
if you have bad grades
you
A) don't understand the material
B) aren't paying attention
C) aren't putting in enough effort
or
D) there is no D
because grades are a combination of homework,
tests,
quizzes,
participation,
and projects.
I get if you're a bad test taker.
I personally don't understand how that works-
like, you get the material
until someone asks you something about it
and then you can't communicate your knowledge?
I mean, if you know something, then you know it,
and putting it on a paper, test or otherwise, shouldn't be difficult
if you actually know what you're talking about.
which ties in to A. if you don't understand it,
then actually,
you C. aren't putting in enough effort.
but okay, I'll accept that reason-
even though I think bad test takers are a myth.
you can't possibly be bad at homework
unless you don't put in the time to do it.
projects, too. if you fail those, you C.
and participation is B.
all those are easily solved by hard work if you
lack, for now, the kind of 'intelligence' we measure.
so if you have bad grades, no, it doesn't mean you're unintelligent.
but it does mean you're lazy.
or have reached a point where you don't believe you can do more-
which is a lie.
because you are capable of solving every problem
you believe you are capable of solving.
and telling yourself 'I'm just not good at school'
guarantees that you are not good at school.
if you appreciate your capability
you can go so much farther.
there is a limit to human potential,
but I don't think it is different for everyone.
I think the limit is where you either
cut yourself off
or
the upper limit-
very few people have reached that limit. perhaps no one.
but it is very high up there.
the limit where you cut yourself off
is that imaginary edge of human behavior
at which people say "boys will be boys"
or "evil is human nature"
or "certain people are more inclined to ____ than others, and I am not one of those people"
or "everybody's potential is different"
because that is not ******* true
your potential is what you say it is
and the line you draw for yourself
is a wall you can now never cross
because you don't think you can
like 'I will never be more than what I am'
or 'All I can be is me'
or 'accept me just the way I am'
because you can be more.
and as a human being with this amazing power of metacognition,
you are obligated to be more
you are obligated to train yourself and
change yourself
and program yourself into the best possible human you can be
because every action you take builds you higher
and every choice you take breaks down the wall
you just have to make the decision that
you will reach the stars
you will do whatever it takes
because at the top of that mountain
you will realize you can do anything now,
you can go anywhere now,
you've made it all the way here-
now to the moon!
and I dare you to go
because I know you can.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC
I don't want to walk in to a room full of strangers
have you even thought of the dangers?
Well I have at 3 am each night
they sure do bring me great delight
I don't want to walk in
oh my god give me some gin
They won't like me
I'm just a wannabe
Imposter syndrome
I just wanna go home
I don't want to walk in
They're looking at the white's of my eyes
I don't mean to dramatise
but I might die
I don't want to talk in
and I can feel my chest
I'm so ******* stressed
I'm walking in
Is this auto-pilot because this is your captain speaking and get ready for a crash and ****** burn
I've reached the point of no return
Walk in you big ******* baby
whats the worst that could happen?
I talk too fast with too much passion?
so what if they don't like me I already sound like banshee
At least try to be care-free
I can't make any guarantees
but step by step in to the room
it won't be all doom and gloom
Just walk in and see you might even make a friend in the end
who didn't want to walk in to too
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 2:25 PM UTC
We lie amidst Ripe mountain herbs,
The nightingale has just begun its summer trill,
This hymn for golden vocal cords
Composed no owner of a writing quill
So sweet were melodies produced
That I mistook the front row lady’s cheap perfume
For blossoms, above which haunting hornets mused;
For an aroma of our Shakespeare love in bloom.
The serenading cardboard creatures –
Those thieve their voice from birds with no address.
Meanwhile a glass raised in a playhouse features
But colored water, as red as gipsy’s dress.
When the last spectator goes,
Having not found at least one genuine sun,
As actors, we recede into descending roles;
Electric blood in lamps’ capillaries feels numb.
A lovely ladybug, I doubt, I will ever catch,
A lifelike flower, dipped in a painting fusion:
All this, fine artists tenderly attach
To lifeless decorations, for aid they do us in a willful staged illusion.
Three burnt sienna pearls run down your spine
Yet after a big round of applause
These jewels are no longer signs of the divine,
But witches’ marks or, rather, unalluring flaws.
After the play I went to buy a notebook from my shopping list
To store the overgrowing verses, such as these;
A sheet of paper guarantees
To treat them like extinguishing bees
Cashiers ****** the change into my hand,
You purchased hothouse roses with;
And up those pretty useless beauties stand
In someone’s vase, whose name remains a myth.
They give me back those polished dimes
You traded for a pair of shoes.
I’ve seen you marshal through onstage lifetimes,
Yet to disclose personas’ traces the theater walls refuse.
Your chocolate hair has just fallen from the hairdresser’s hand,–
That’s how I know the summer’s coming to a bitter end.
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 7:02 PM UTC
I'm a fool for having the need to rely on someone for happiness.
My happiness has two legs and a full name.
I know I'm supposed to depend on myself only,
but how can I do that when I feel whole when I'm with you?
How can I depend on myself for happiness when whenever I think of home,
the first name, the first face in my mind is yours?
I'm a fool for calling you my happiness because nothing lasts forever and I'm afraid that if you walk away,
I'll have to go down that road of pain all over again before I met you because everyone always leaves,
and what guarantees me you came to stay?
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 7:47 PM UTC
Rhyme Mechanic
When talking to me, wear a hard hat,
or on your face, you'll fall flat.
I'm the **** and I'm where it's at.
People get down on your knees,
or I'll chop you down, like dead trees,
I never promise or make guarantees.
I take the roads less traveled,
never confused and rarely baffled,
in my web, you all get tangled.
None of you can compete,
I like girls that are petite,
never will I take a back seat.
It's me that people always follow,
the girls I meet always swallow,
so what if I'm very shallow.
I'm all that and a bag of chips,
my head's so big, everyday is an eclipse,
no one has a bigger bag of tricks.
I have an ego to the highest power,
I bloom more than any kind of flower,
don't mess with me, or I'll devour.
No other person is close to me,
I sting worse than a bumble bee,
to all the secrets, I hold the key.
Not my fault my head is big,
mess with me and I'll stuff you like a pig,
I shoot loads like an oil rig.
I'll break your heart and rip out your soul,
you can't touch me with a ten foot pole,
my life is always in cruise control.
This is me when I'm feeling manic,
no need to worry, no need to panic,
just call me the rhyme mechanic.
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 3:24 PM UTC
(Composed by Billy Liebert; Recorded by John Wayne -1973)
Face the Flag of stars and bars,
Of red and white and blue,
A flag that guarantees the rights
For men like me and you.
Face the Flag, son! Read what's written there--
The history, the progress and the heritage we share.
Our flag relects the past, son, but stands for so much more,
And in this Age of Aquarius, it still flies in the fore.
It leads the forward movement, shared by all mankind,
To learn...to love...to live with peace of mind;
To learn the mysteries of space, as well as those of earth;
To love each man for what he is, regardless of his birth;
To live without the fear of reprisal for belief;
To ease the tensions of a world that cries out for relief.
Face the Flag of stars and bars,
Of red and white and blue,
A flag that guarantees the rights
For men like me and you.
Face the Flag, son! Take a good long look.
What you're seeing now can't be found in a history book.
It's the present and the future, son. It's being written now,
And you're the one to write it, but the flag can show you how.
Do you know what it stands for? What its makers meant?
To think...to speak...the privilege of dissent;
To think our leaders might be wrong...to stand and tell them so.
These are the things that other men under other flags will never know.
But responsibility...that's the cross that free men must bear,
And if you don't accept that, the freedom isn't there.
Face the Flag of stars and bars,
Of red and white and blue,
A flag that guarantees the rights
For men like me and you.
Face the Flag, son, and face reality.
Our strengths and our freedoms are based in unity.
The flag is but a symbol, son, of the world's greatest nation,
And as long as it keeps flying, there's cause for celebration.
So do what you've got to do, but always keep in mind,
A lot of people believe in peace...but there are the other kind.
If we want to keep these freedoms, we may have to fight again.
God forbid, but if we do, let's always fight to win,
For the fate of a loser is futile and it's bare:
No love, no peace...just misery and despair.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 7:04 PM UTC
I'm twenty seven years old
Not, old by any standard
But, in my world...I'm seven
Seven years removed from an IED
Seven years away from the day that changed me
Seven years into my new life
We were on a routine mission
If you can call anything in Khandahar
routine
Convoy escort, some press folks
A country singer and his band
And us....always us
We were Military Police
Bringing 'em in, taking 'em home
there we were,
Same trip, same road
same barren landscape
same potholes
same, same, same
Until November 4th, 2005
Nothing has been the same since then
I'm a Sargeant, Military Police
William Blankenship
Fort Hood, Texas...just a kid...until
We were on Operation Squire
routine....all routine
The first humvee hit an IED
flipped right in front of us
the bus of civilians, stopped
radio chatter like mad
Rocket fire took out the Stryker LAV
Blew it to bits
No survivors
We were pinned down
We didn't return fire
Couldn't....didn't know where to
And had to get the civilians to safety
We were only 2 miles from base
LAVs were on the road immediately
I don't remember much about it
Just, that it was routine
Started with the headaches
took about a month
Then, the nightmares
Sent me back home to get over it
To a Veterans Hospital in Texas
Still saw the humvee flip
Heard the screams
Saw the fire, and watched the explosion behind
And I wasn't sleeping anymore
Couldn't handle bright lights for a time
Still can't, but not as bad
Doctors said it was PTSD
I said, "you think?"
What else could it be
Two years they kept me in there
Two years I saw them die
Then...they hooked me up with a service dog
New program they said
He'd keep me relaxed
I couldn't take care of myself
And now, they want me to have a dog
I said, I'd try it...but no guarantees
Said his name was Squire
funny....I knew that name from somewhere
But, couldn't remember where
Big, oafish, Newf he was
Like a small fridge with hair
And big, brown eyes
Squire....
First day he just sat and looked at me
Waited until I started to move
And he moved with me
Came over, and pushed his head under my hand
It's been that way ever since
I move, he moves
I eat, he eats three times as much
We bonded pretty quick
I still get the dreams,
but, Squire knows and he's there
Under my hand, calming me down
That's all he does, calms me down
He doesn't take away the dreams
But, he helps
I don't know how
But, he helps
They still die, and I still scream
But, not as often
Just routine....
Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 4:29 PM UTC
your words were so lovely
that i never once doubted them,
i couldn’t hear the emptiness
or read into the sugar coated lies
masquerading as sincere promises
i wrote them in cursive
and dotted the i’s with little hearts,
counting on the vows to hold weight
but when i finally tested them
by throwing your “forevers” into the ocean,
they did not sink to the bottom,
instead they floated right on the surface
your guarantees
were like funhouse mirrors,
i ran in one direction
thinking it was leading me
to where i needed to be,
but i came to a dead end,
trapped and broken hearted
with your voice echoing somewhere
“i cannot mend it”
i will not let my journal
turn into pitiful pages
filled with only your name
i will carry on,
bruised by your half-truths
and with eyes full of hope,
nevertheless
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 11:29 AM UTC
our lives are fraught with numbers
so many fractions of a second faster in a race
most wins on record best jury votes
highest flight deepest dive most goals
meters of rising sea levels
millions of refugees and more displaced
tens of thousands honor killings
thousands of deaths with Ebola
millions of Zika virus victims next year
billions of deficit or profit in import/export
or the stock exchange
votes in elections or for beauty queens
polls tweets virtual friends & followers
likes on the social media on hellopoetry
we have been taught to measure our status
our importance and the significance of our lives
in clicks of other peoples’ digital devices
even our time has been reduced to numbers
the digital has long replaced the comprehensive
instead of the round dial that shows 12 hours
suggesting the duration of a normal day
we have a punctual display without the whole
the cyclical has lost against the linear
0101010101010101010101010101010101
we all look forward to our numbered future
no past and very little present
our hands on smart phones homes TVs
pushing a button makes things move
swishing a screen displays the world
over all that we easily forget
that we ourselves have been reduced to numbers
of customers for businesses
of voters for the politicians
of workers for the corporations
of citizens for our nations
digital quantities we have become
and if we take a global view
we are part of the seven billion plus
that currently inhabit our earth
all of which do expect their individuality
be honored and their dignity respected
numbers don’t honor individuality
they simply count the units
items or people are for them the same
it’s left to us to find a way
that leaves the numbers in their place
yet guarantees us dignity
as individual members of the human race
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 6:19 PM UTC
I’ll never forget to love you,
So long as you’re gone,
But once you’re home
There are no guarantees;
Daily luxuries
And nightly TV
Pray the devil in me.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
it's time to find my old friend
(my ********
it doesn't care about making amends
(my ********
no false hopes or promises
it does what it says (and advertises)
(my ********
so back to the tried and true
(my ********
in hopes I'll forget about you ...
... there's no guarantees
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 5:46 PM UTC
WHISTLING AND SNIFFING SIMULTANEOUSLY
Whistling and sniffing at the same time
Can’t hold hands or rather get married
United and collaborative in any case
This duo may perhaps land into the life of some person
The kind of man whose who acts,
Performs duties of the shepherd on the flock.
Like his initial master,
He condemns wickedness,
Goes against what is religiously evil,
And exults the righteous.
But he soon he craves for another pair of his robe
For he does accumulate an avalanche of resources,
His eyes are soon blinded.
Would his robe evade being soiled?
Co-operative sniffing and whistling,
Can hatch into temptations to anybody,
Even the half-human, half God
Did he not get tested in the wilderness?
Our big man opens his eyes one day,
Finds himself campaigning and competing for,
Trying to woo for citizens’ keys,
Essentials for serving the people in a wider circle.
Perhaps his whistling guides his path.
Brings him in the companionship of
Other servants of the people.
Any devoted service present in that house really?
Brotherly whistling and sniffing,
May make one’s conscience slither backwards,
Two or more steps into mud.
He is now influential,
A famous societal figure.
His fat salary seconded with some allowances.
Or even thirded with public developmental resources,
Guarantees him total luxury.
Is this not an opportunistic opportunist?
Our Sniffer and whistler is contended,
Complacent with his success.
Jubilant with him servant is his ‘first Master ’
For keeping to the ‘sacred’ scriptures.
The vehicle which carried him straight,
One way to heaven gets crippled,
It can’t manage to hit the road
Like its American, British and Chinese counterparts,
His sincere promise goes unfulfilled
Unmet due to his pretentious pretence.
His ‘second’ Master gets extremely mad.
For loyalty and faithfulness denied.
And furiously plucks him from glory.
Simultaneous whistling and sniffing,
The ‘initial’ heaven can’t simply put up with them.
A wise servant of the masses
A true leader should only whistle at a time,
Sniff at a time.
But not sniffing and whistling simultaneously.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
May I have your attention?
This information is for you.
Put this in your dictionary,
****** doesn’t mean ‘let’s *****
It might do where you come from
But some of us were raised better.
We recognize and accept
The Constitution to the letter.
It guarantees our freedom as
Citizens of this fine nation.
Nowhere does it say nudists should
Be treated with degradation
And blocked from freedom to be
Who they really are at heart.
Denying natural freedoms is
Where fascism gets its start.
If you have been trained in a way
That genitalia is abomination
You’re the one who is indecent
And needs some repatriation.
It’s not like someone naked is
Automatically getting it on.
That’s just inside your mind, so
Only you can make it be gone.
A lot of what you are thinking
And the very thing you are fear
Is not real, it’s irrational
This is what you need to hear;
Some may not find you ****
When they see you naked
But those are not nudists.
They’re unclothed bigots that fake it.
May I have your attention?
This information is for you.
Put this in your dictionary,
****** doesn’t mean ‘let’s *****
It might do where you come from
But some of us were raised better.
We recognize and accept
The Constitution to the letter
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 10:18 PM UTC
I promise I’m trying my best not to back out
and I promise and I promise and I know that you’re okay with me being unsure
but it feels like I’m just a lost cause waiting for the inevitable day when you see
that this is it
this is all you’re getting from me
it feels like a lie though from day one you knew what you were getting into
and I tell you all the time that I can’t even figure myself out
and you offer to help me solve the puzzle but I don’t understand why you’re so willing
when I give you no guarantees
I guess you must love me
not weighing up the pros and cons like I do
you love unconditionally
like you're supposed to
and I can't help feeling like I'm not holding up my end of the deal
and even though I do all I can
I don’t think I'll ever feel the way that you do
is that enough for you?
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 7:22 PM UTC