Gurl stops meking out
n asked boi to get potartz
he dus
den gurl teks deep breff
and gurl sais
bf
I am pregnent
will u stay ma bf
n he seys
"NO"
gurl iz hertbrokn
gurl cried n runz awaii from boi wiffout eatin poptart
n she has low blood suga
so she fols
boi runs ova 2 her
She Ded
boi crie
I sed I no be ur bf
cuz i wona b ur husband!
he screems
n frows poptart @ wol
a bootiful diomand ring wus insyd

LIK DIS IF U CRY EVERTIM!!!!

baby gurl
u are my world
when i look at yur curls
the stars unfurl.
i want 2 make you my gurl
fur real
the smallest of coffers
carry uncountable coins.

I once had a girlfriend.
oh boy, right
Or some of you might be thinking:
who the **** cares
Well,
This is my poem
So ******* :)
ANYWAYS
I once had a girlfriend
Oh how dear was she.
Perfect gurl
Perfect eyes
Perfect hair
Perfect personality
Everything.
I wish she could have been forever.
But I'm sure you figured out we broke up when I said "once "
But she was like the perfect matchup.
Like pizza and pepperoni.
Coke and ice
Rock music and a lake
(What?!?!)
I dunno
Anyways.
This gurl,
Right.
She was so cool
But I was a fool
(Rhymes, eh, eh?)
She thought I was too  nice.
Huh?
Yep.
Too **** nice.
I have no idea what to say still.
What's wrong with being nice?
As if
She wanted someone to call her a ***** and a liar
(Which she wasn't)
She was a good gurl.
Why wasn't I?
Because I
Was
too nice
That's who I am
A label on my forehead.
"The nice guy"
It's amazing
(A curse)
see I'm ******
Because I want a gurl
Who will love me
Be a "nice girl"
So I ask.
Are you  the nice one?
Will you feed my soul
With the love we both need?
I dunno
Do You?
All I know is
I sure wanna **** answer
Eh?

Me Nose knows da way she goes.
Da smells herb throws,
me Nose just knows.

Da smell kush gives.
Da way me lives.
Me Nose just knows.

'avin a ****
with a **** lovin' bloke.
enjoyin' da incense.
But me losing da essence.
Me Nose knows, but me eyes don't.

Me **** lovin' bloke,
who me was 'bout to ****,
was not a gurl,
just a lyin' shmuck.

He was not a chick
'cause he had a ****.
Me eyes now know
what me Nose knows.

ive been watching u from afar
and i like who u r

I feel bad for women who date online.
There are good men in this world, I swear.
Not every man who walks the earth wastes his breath and your time,
with cro-magnon scribbles from a mind so bare,
that it comes as a surprise they managed even to write one line,
much less something so cerebral as this:
                              "Yo, prety gurl. Liek yur pic,
                                I so >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
                               Wanna see mah ****?"

So deep, right? What Socratic genius might have penned such lines?
Surely not even Shakespeare or Keats could craft words so divine!
I am so sorry, women who date online.
Truly, I'm sorry, on behalf of mankind

Written on 11/20/2017

That awkward moment when someone flirts with you on a dating app and says "I like that you look masculine."

You see,
I never saw masculinity as a part of me.

My identity was always flamboyant,
wearing pink shirts and sashes,
crop tops with styling gelled eyelashes,
sparkling headbands and dazzling bandannas,
snapback hats featuring giant bananas,
I dressed with the raging flamboyance of flamingos!
Sporting a certain type of femininity that only a gay man knows.

All the trimming and cutting, and shaving and nairing,
for hours,
as time and body hair intertwined in the showers,
washed masculinity off my body down the drain,
Experienced electrolysis burns, but the pain
had infected my thoughts,
like each hair is unnatural.  

Purge it all,
Scorch and torch it all,
Leave nothing at all!
No trace
of evolution's flawed attempt to grace
me with an adaptive advantage to take on the world's harsh climate.  
I admit,
this hair entangles me and strangles me,
it also oozes out of me like pimples from a pore,
a ***** to testosterone,
poor me - a victim of nature's masculinity.
What a hairy situation I've gotten myself in.

--

Femininity.
Its bestowed upon me by society.
When I sashay or say hey gurl hey,
society recognizes these things as girly and gay,
not a very masculine way to walk or talk.  

Stereotypes about *** and gender are so easily manipulated.
Like a circus performer on the tight rope,
the suspense keeps people wondering where will I fall?

But hold me under a microscope and you will see it all,
a million molecules that makeup my femininity.
I wear skinny jeans and tank tops,
then get complimented on them by dude bros,
like yo that's tight- where'd you get it boss?

I bought it in the girl's section at Ross.

My toe nails painted and displayed for public view,
flip flops emboldened with matching turquoise hues,
Femininity is worn on me like a fabulous armor plate.

--

Fast forward to a fateful date during No-Shave November.
I remember,
growing out my ****** hair for the very first time,
I wore it like a mask,
portraying a fictional character who was masc-uline.
Bathing in manliness at this masquerade.
It was through this charade,
that I grew
... temporary happiness for me from all of you.

The compliments they poured in.
My once smooth canvas of a face,
waiting to be crafted into the Mona Lisa,
had been turned into an artistic masterpiece,
'Gay Man with Amnesia',
of who he used to be.
A painting of someone society wanted,
someone whose masculinity was outwardly flaunted.
But inside, I felt taunted,
each time they complimented
me and my newfound masculinity.

--

Then, it happened on Grindr,
a gay dating app.
This masculine mishap.

A stranger's message read, "I like that you look masculine."
It sounded even stranger in my head.
Their profile description read,

"Masc 4 Masc
Masculine man seeking other masculine men to hangout with."

That's when I felt it.
My mask had made me masc.

This particularly manic morning brought me to ask
myself in the bathroom mirror,
"Who the hell am I looking at?"

In sheer terror, I teared-up,
scanned the portrait of 'Gay Man with Amnesia',
and then decided to tear it up!

I grabbed my electric razor,
grum grum grummm
as these blades grazed my face and chin,
I was offered sweet, soft, porcelain skin - my absolution.

pause

heh heh
When I came to and snapped out of the amnesia,
eager to see results of this restorative procedure,
the mirror was fogged with steam and slop.

I tried logging in to my laptop's webcam,  
for naught.  
The ****** recognition feature -- didn't recognize me
... but finally, I did.

Once again, I see the man behind the masc-ulinity.

Deny it; it makes no difference:
the American government pitches its deceitful realtor-reality to the world:
flaunting our flag as the banner of the free, but avoiding
our faults and failures as a country.
“Oh yes! We’re rollin’ in the (borrowed) bucks!
We’re a proud superpower capable of chaos; calamity!”
Well, kudos on your catastrophes: we all know it’s a hollow show.

See, we’re slaves to China, bound by China’s chains
to billions of dollars, the deficit deepening daily.
And who’s to blame?
“Not I!” says the Democrat.
“Not I!” says the Republican.
“Not I” say I, but we
weaved our financial woes together.
It’s not stupidity; if we could see into the future, we’d be shakin’ our money makers.
But have you seen the current fiscal guillotine
whose blade looms low and approaching our throats?
Oh, irony of ironies: the American government isn’t free.
Oh mah gee.
Freak out!
Calm down...
Forbes informs me that federal spending spurs private sector growth.
But when fifty-four thousand buckaroos from you
and you
and you
and me too is just enough
to cover Congress’ **** until the dimwits there do another... (insert something dumb),
it’s time to draw the line.

And time to erase lines previously drawn:
George Washington warned us once before:
“...the common and continual mischiefs of [political] parties are sufficient to make it the... duty of a wise people to discourage... it.”
Yet here we are: the media’s reporting majority wars
that serve only to sail us further offshore from Pristine America
and a time when things really seemed to matter, especially when they did.
Deny it; it doesn’t matter; it doesn’t change
our chances of escaping another Cuban
Missile
Crisis. If we waged World
                               War
                                            Three, what would we
                                                       do?
                                                               One
thing: debate, procrastinate, our fate
a fragile plaything fought over
by infantile, full-grown fanatics who never quite phased out of high school debate.
They never learned to lose, and so they play the inane blame game,
I say quite frankly: gurl. Dat cray-cray.

Dear Democracy, when will my words hold water?
When will the weight of a rainbow OREO or a
monogamous monotone monotheistic chicken sandwich
on my guilty conscience be lifted?
Must I muster a hungry lackluster life in the land of opportunity
to oppose tyranny
and uphold justice? I turned eighteen last December,
but for as long as I can remember
I’ve been voting with the dollar bill, my ballot
traveling through the bloodstream, fueling the body of big business, who fuel the daring charities, who fuel their bills in congress.

Democracy, do you know me?

For this faux-democratic nation where the population waits for the government to lay itself to waste, the Founding Fathers sob, disgraced.
                                                       Oh, God Bless America!
the nation where when faced with any
[man, woman, child, intersex, genderqueer, etc.] who dares defile the status quo,
accept the stigma like a crown of thorns, on top of all the scorn
                                                                    We The People
donate millions to “charities” who dare to speak for
Jesus,
the meek and mild. John chapter eight, verses one through eight:
he drew a
fine line in the
sand, man:
it’s where your rights end and mine begin. Irony, irony: they are as good as
mine.
For this faux-democratic nation where the population waits for the government to lay itself to waste, the Founding Fathers sob, disgraced.

Gosh o gee I think yer neat.
Ya got nice hair.  I like yer feet.
An yer cat. An yer dog two.
Shucks! I think I's sweet on you.

P'raps weel marry up sum day.
(Whens weer old an gettin gray)
Til then heck, o gosh gee wiz
Can I just steel a little kiss?

Here's a little story I tink you'll like.
It's not bout' two shmucks looking for amour.
It's all bout' me, my life, and my big fat bluntz.
Imma bout' to tell ya what Reggae's for.

Reggae stands for peace and the luv in yaself.
It's bout' them spankable honies and big fat beatz.
It's bout' sweet **** chicken and otha tasty stuff.
It's bout' that dank smell of ***** fillin' da streetz.

Reggae's da warm sensation from a fresh beef patty.
It's the chill rub-a-dub sound of dat Marley noize.
It's the Jamaican sun spreadin light on ya gurl's curves.
It's the dutty jammin ya get in to witcha dazy rond-boys.

*My life is Reggae. Reggae is my life

By Arcassin Burnham


Butterflies and lakes,
Carry signals in and out
into the love gate,
If you're saying that I know her situation
i could probably relate,
Not wanting to do this all the time
But it cannot be replace,
I swear I love her
but she's just thinking that me and him are in a race,
I beat him to the punch and now I'm glad I'm in first place,


She is my dream to see the things that are right in front
Of me,
Don't think for one second I don't know about intimacy,
shes the girl for me in this life of death and luxury,
I made a promise to her long ago that we would be,

shes my history like no other in my dreams,
I take a short breath of the wrong air in this time,
take my hand and we'll run to the stream,
She said she use to be alright in my first line,

like bella and edward , we shine in the lights and sparkle
As if glistening was our middle names
fantasy teens,
kissin in the lake
is it still a dream?

Is she really still someone elses girl?
this i can't redeem.

I love lacy umbrellas; and pink parasols, a ***** in waiting; showing ******* and *****. I love fashion hats; all feathers and lace, hot party gurl outfits; poses of elegant grace. I love tea parties; and playing dress up, I love things dainty; and riding a crop. I love teddy bears; ******* on ****, men who wear *******; and pink frilly socks.

So many miles apart,
But our love is so strong.

Her heart's desire is to live on the coast,
Where the salt water from the ocean and the depths of her eyes will mix until even she can't tell them apart.

ya know little **** gurl
provin to ur bull that your better
and your doing better
a thot.......
just a thot....

If Planets were Gay (Star ******) Poem
(8/4/2014)

Stars are ****.
Big hairless ***** dangling from the sky.
That old song sang stars are like pizza pie,
but why oh why can't I,
instead dine tonight on orbs in between the sky's mighty thighs?

The sun could be a lot of fun at the beach, wearing my thong.
I'd let it spin around my orbit ALL YEAR LONG.

And Saturn's rim... I mean ring
is a bootylicious thing.
I'd let it sit on my face,
and eat out that planet's entire outer space.

If Pluto were a planet,
It'd be the Jackson to my Janet,
singing it's Pluto,
Miss Pluto if ya nasty.

Mercury looked fiery hot when we first met,
Things got steamy 'cuz we both got wet.
We wasted no time working up a sweat.

I bet if Venus had a *****,
it would be so big,
it'd have its own solar system!
tee hee hee

But don't get me started with Earth,
that planet's got good girth.
If Earth was gay, you know that Uranus would be like,
"Ohayyy!!
Gurl Galactic Grindr tells me you're in my galaxy,
let's meet in the middle of the Milky Way."

Jupiter is the kinda planet that plays hard to get,
a total tease you'd quickly forget.
Plus he gave me asteroids in my astral ****.

And the Moon?
It makes my whole body swoon.
The only problem,
thisssss planet's a bottommmmm!

Neptune is in the closet,
but let's be real,
every planet and their comet knows it.

Nobody plays with Mars,
because he lives too far,
and has no apartment, job, or car.

But who am I kidding?
If Planets were Gay,
I'd Star **** 'em all any day.

if i die...can i decide where to go...
this gurl put a knife in mii hand
for me to hold...and i see..tht this..girl
looks exacly like me...where i am..
is so cold...every where i go..this
girl shows...in through the door..
i go..it close..uhmm yea and this
gurl everyone knows...to me
she keeps holding on...dark glass
all around..but i can still see my image...
so ig this girl i believe is me...****** in the
1 degree...in this book i see....the author is
this girl and the illistrator is meeeee.....

Messy Soul Poem
1/25/2014

I cleaned my room once.
They say cleaning cleanses the soul, but...
What if I like mine *****?

What if I don't regret those nasty sins?
You know, those things,
committed in the parking lot of a bar.
Like that time I keyed a drunken *******'s car?

What about when I poured my drink down the sink,
because I didn't want you to think I was such a light weight,
and make myself a fool in front of you?

What about at your mom's house,
we stayed up all night watching movies,
trying to conceal our loud laughs to not wake her up,
because **** she is crazy.

What about at the movie theater,
during the opening credits,
when I threw candy at the people in front seats,
because really who the **** likes to sit in the front seats??  
I mean they had it coming.

Or what about those times on my knees,
and saying, "Nobody hear this please,"
but I really did hope just a little bit, maybe.
What?  Don't take that the wrong way.

I was talking about praying in my bedroom,
while you walked downstairs to grab a drink of water,
praying that you might really be happy with me,
and if not, then that you never find your happiness,
if that meant choosing to leave me.

I thought about these things,
these nasty sins.
And after, I decided not to clean my room again for a while.
I like my mess.
That shiny sheen of bland brown carpet covered in dust,
is the most beautiful thing I've seen all my life.


Because I've been the one holding 3 suitcases at the airport,
trying to get to my terminal,
back **** near ready to break,
but the bag broke first,
spilling out all my **** onto the floor.
and eventually I just said, No More.

My soul can't afford another spill
For that kind of damage,
I'd need a dump truck to pick up the mess.
But I digress,
there are some things I hold on to,
somethings that I refuse to clean.

Like that love note I found under my bed,
from when I had just turned seventeen.
or like the math test I got an A on,
because I ****** at math and I felt really proud of it,
or like the first pornographic photo I ever printed out,
don't worry I've kept it clean.

And there are some things in my soul,
that as much as I don't want to see them anymore,
I keep held in store.

Like my middle school friend Deja.
I told her my life story and lived a bit of it with her too.
To be fair for asking her to keep it,
I've held on to hers too.
Like the time she played in her rock band,
at the largest school assembly.

She dedicated the song to me saying,
"To Wynn wherever you are."
she looked up at the audience and people thought she looked to heaven.
They thought I died and were relieved to see me at school the next week.

I wish I could dedicate this poem to her in front of all of you
and look somewhere distant in the audience saying,
hey gurl, this is for you.
but truth is, I know where she is, where she lives,
we just aren't friends anymore.
but I won't tell her I wrote this.
Because truth is, sometimes my soul likes to keep its little secrets.

Somethings take me longer to clean than others.
Like the bottle of body wash my first love left at my apartment,
thinking someday I would return it to him,
but instead I'd frequently wash with it
to wash him out of my mind
but his trace wasn't hard to find,
easy to recognize,
his scent was stuck to my pillow,
and I tasted him in my tears,
as I wept each night,
wondering how I could cleanse myself of everything
we had been through this past year.

Sometimes I like a mess in this ***** soul of mine.
Sometimes I like to think if I leave it there I'll be fine.
But sometimes when the mess gets too big,
I'll feel the need to clean it,
but the funny thing about a mess is,
it comes back,
the more clothes you wear,
the more food you eat,
the more promises you don't keep.
the more times you lay awake at night, unable to sleep,
drink, ****, *****, scream
wondering when you'll wake up from this dream
It looks like a hellish nightmare,
staring at the piece of you trapped in my ***** soul.
My vacuum broke, it won't pick up the dirt anymore
My heart feels sore,
brain broken dumb and numb
can't seem to clean up this mess,
get lost figuring out where I should start from.

Ouch.

I think I'll leave my room messy this week,
to reflect my inner think.
because I don't think I could make a bigger mess than all the things I ****** up with you.

but what if I don't want to be clean
if that means cleansing my soul of you.


I want to make new bad decisions and have room in my ***** soul to store them.
So every now and then I cleanse it, letting go of things stored, but paying their toll.

A part of me wants you gone
A part of me wants you to take me back home
A part of me has died a long time Ago
A Part of me LIVES ..AND THE REASON IS YOU

A part of me knows that life is a road I have to walk alone
A part of me wants you to stay by my side and prove the other part wrong
A part of me is the part I never show
The part which is FALLING FOR YOU

But there is a part so cold
Colder than the snow that falls
On january 4
The part you ignite ,
The part who melts every time you smile
And say
"GURL , I AM HERE TO STAY
FOREVER AND ALWAYS"

Stay out of trouble,
rebuttal,
probably gonna **** if we cuddle.
I smoked one too many singles someone pack a double.
Twenty ringers ain't fun for the lungs but they gatta be done,
someone pack another for the girl we gettin **** done.
Not, just chillin n smokin ***.
Smokin marijuana, you wanna do it or not?
Settle in, its not like its a ****** rock,
yeah she has one in the pocket but that **** would make you pop.
See for us it be okay,
take it and we sway,
have another popper and we feel it fade a way.
It comes back and it's great,
numb to the face and cant complain,
run with the flow, now whats my name,
I had to get it, I had it, now I'm insane.
Now you, scared you wont like the truth,
you like it as much as the youth,
but you wont let nothing diffuse the situation,
love n hate will make a mess,
your selfish habits wont have it so **** it just take a rest.
You figure that I'll just bewilder the thought of you as a villain but you can just call her a killer cause she gon keep up with the killin.
Wanna **** round with a beast, its only your head.
Better keep up with the girl or get back n rest while she pull ahead. Yeah, now she only smokin on the best,
she been nursing a mind to **** us all up n go to bed.
See we ready, come n get me,
hell, we been it all along.
You say you're not convinced, she says you should tag along.

ey yo gurl
you make me hurl
champs back to you
for a sweet alley-oop
Give xerath a boop
right on the head
he prolly shoulda read
this ain't yogi-bear
I fill caskets, not pic-a-nic-baskets


feel free to ask it
You know I got a task it-
Starts and ends with a flip
and a stun
so don't give me lip about this tent
I've got the smores, so don't get bent

I'm not trying to be unauthentic, im just trying to stay...cool
rhymes with meaning are sweet like cherries, chocolate, whipping, and ******* gurl!
I love when I make u smile, the wordless cool goes with the flow
good vibrations and time is patient, it's cool so just go with the flow
I'm loving mother nature, and i just sipped fine berry wine
don't **** my vibe and let me rhyme, time after time be mystified
Let me guide u on this journey, let us not rush
Because
Because, u and I we're in no hurry
and what we got is time, time, time

(Man meets woman, Woman meets man)
       Man: How are you beautiful?
   Woman: I'm blessed handsome!
     Man: Wondering if I could get to know you?
Woman: Of course
           (Beginning Of Relationship)
Woman: I've been hurt before so I'm very guarded of my heart and feelings.
Man: I'll never hurt you baby, I'll cherish and love you like the angel you are!!
Woman: I hope so!!
Man: Dnt hope baby believe it
Woman: Ok baby
Man: I got you boo!
                      (Months Later)
Woman: Baby you seem distant is everything ok?
Man: I'm good
Woman: You sure?.. Is there anything you wanna talk about?
Man: Nah I'm str8
Woman: Ok boo (Sighing)
                   (Same Night)
Woman: Hey babe where you at?
Man: With my *****
Woman: Okay boo can't wait for you to get home, got a surprise for you!!
Man: Aight
Woman: (Sighing)& (Thinking)
                    (Early Morning)
Woman: Bae we need to talk
Man: Bout what?
Woman: About us boo
Man: What about us?!
Woman: Things dnt seem the same. You really acting different.
Man: It's all in your head.. I love you gurl (Kiss her forehead)
Woman: Ok boo (Blushing)
                    (Week Later)
Man: Bout to roll over to my ***** house.
Woman: How long you gonna be gone boo?
Man: Bruh I dnt knw what's up?!
Woman: Dang I just asked cause I wanted us to go out and have fun.
Man: I'll be busy handling some business mane!!
Woman: Okay boo maybe some other time. (Thinking)
Man: Aight bruh
                       (Hours Later)
Woman: Hey boo what's up, what you doing? (CALM)
Man: Bruh told you I'm kicking it with my *****.
Woman: Which one?
Man: Tony bruh.. Why? What's up?!
Woman: LOL
Man: What's so **** funny mane?!
Woman: TELL THAT *** I SAID HEY AND AS FOR YOU COME GET YOUR ****!!!
Man: WHAT?! BRUH WHAT THE ******* TALKING BOUT?! MANE I AIN'T GOT TIME FOR THIS PETTY **** BRUH GONE ON.. ***** CNT EVEN KICK IT WITH HIS ***** WITHOUT BEING ACCUSED OF CHEATING..
Woman: LOL... Hold on.. Hold that thought. (CALM)
Man: H..E..L..L...O
Tony: Hey bruh where you at??? Thought your az was at home I came thru
Man: D..A..M..N!!!!!!
Woman: LOL.... BUSTED BRUH!!!!! COME GET YOUR ****!!!!..LOL
Man: (**** faced)!!!

Da stresse
I shakes off ma back.
Sweet I kno ma lighte
Is one of compassione
One of revamping
I'm a gurl
Of dis and dat.

baby how are you feeling today
believe these words and
something i got to say because
i want you to feel
so much better ok
just listen to
my words expressed
in this kinda way  
baby open up this letter yoh
yeah i have been
saving up these words for sure
all these precious words
for you boo
yeah you know exactly what to do
well baby gurl outside
its cold in this world and
i am gonna be right there for yah gurl
to wrap my wings around yah
sail around the world with yah
share my whole wide world with yah and
i hope these words make you feel
so much better though
when my baby open up this letter yoh

I been taking time off
From all da boye searching, taking time for self.
Self help. Nothing bedda den a woman making herself bedda
For wen a man actually kan give his all to me. I'm me, I'll stay me
Gangsta boyes so sick of, ghetto boyes fake like dey watches.
Need man with class. Classy man. Who classy can do all for his babye gurl. most of all, I dont need anyone I just want dem.
I just wanna be bedda for wen a gud one *** along. I just want bedda.

High Times In Harvey Taylor.

Part I: Weave Check.

Gurl,
you better
check, check,
check yo' weave
and yourself.
Before,
you let
those sticky fingers
of yours
give a
just because you bought me dinner,
*******.
And get stuck
with
the wrong
****.
You know what
I'm preaching?
Amen & Ahhh Harerujah.
After all,
Purgatory is
a place
for people
who commit
acts of pladjurism .
Praise Jesus, amen,
Um,
Whatever
you say Man,
just pass me that joint
and we'll be ight.
Kush,
blueberry
&
purple.
Grand-Daddy will be there too.
I've got a keiffe covered
doctors letter,
swimming
deep inside
the middle
of
my eighter.
Later Skater.

believe these words and
something i got to say because
i want you to feel
so much better ok
just listen to
my words expressed
this kinda way  
baby open up this letter yoh
yeah i have been
saving up these words for sure
all these precious words
for you boo
yeah you know exactly what to do
well baby gurl outside
its cold in this world and
i am gonna be right there for yah gurl
to wrap my wings around yah
sail around the world with yah
share my whole wide world with yah and
i hope these words make you feel
so much better though
when my baby open up this letter yoh