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May Scoff Jul 2019
Guys always are obsessing about Asian girls but I can't figure out why. Sure there's the occasional knock-your-socks-off attractive one and sure they do frequently have quite shapely legs, but by-and-large they don't have ******* or buttocks to speak of. The guys just want the anime girls. Guys talk about super-models too, but they have the same problem: no ***, no ****. Not only that, but models are way too tall, and way too skinny for their height to boot. The attractive height range for adult females is 4' 10" to 5' 3" (at least Asians have that going for them). As for weight, they shouldn't weigh less than 100 lbs at the lower height range, or more than 150 lbs at the higher height range. This is important because proper ***** weigh at least 4 lbs each, and buttocks at least 8 lbs each. That's about 24 lbs worth of *** and **** alone, and you gotta fill out the rest of your body to balance that out. A little bit of a stomach pooch is adorable too. I don't get the pasty white skin thing either. Good skin tone is on the spectrum from Persian to Bantu. And what's with the blonde hair thing? Dark brown to black is clearly the greater beauty, though the right red can really be a knockout. And wavy hair reigns supreme: avoid the extremes of straight or tight curls. But tight curls are better than straight.

You know? maybe just be Salma Hayek.
B M Clark Apr 2015
Body image *****.

Let me tell you something,
It may surprise you but I hope not.
Body image *****.
For everyone.

Not just big girls,
Hell not even just girls,
Everyone feel this.

I weigh 140 lbs.
I. Feel. Too. Fat.
When I weighed 115 lbs.
I. Felt. Too. Thin.

Body image *****.
We need to feel pretty again.
Karijinbba Jul 2018
My pen writes
I still Exist

and an empty feeling engulfs me
I am painting a purple tree
I tell my family counselor
That the paint reminds me
Of arsenic Greek cheese dust
That a human predator
two faced fiancee
placed on my green salad in 1976
He said he would teach me how Greeks killed with love at sea
Then kindly offered
To bring
breakfast and lunch
for me in bed
(Ladden with poison)
While I ate it he danced Zorba the Greek!
His jealous raicist medeas mistresses knew his past crimes
I didn't I was very naive
his superstitious ignorant parents twelve people  asked him to Get rid of me baby and all

Overdosed with pitocin for a cow
giving birth was a torture
then blood thinners
were added to slowly
end my life
A hate crime because I a sub human born in Mexico not Greece
The poisons caused
a chest malformation of my daughter requiring surgery
later in life was mis-diagnosed
as pectus scavatum
but I knew better it was
attempted ******
a chilling secret I was so ashamed to reveal

I did escape my kids and me
we survived  the memory
of my true love's loving ways
In America saved me from certain death there I was 75 lbs
When I escaped Hell
But salads gave me
Nausea through the years
I could never recall why

Painting gets my mind
Off painful memories
resurficing examining my life understanding me and others

I have many regrets unwittingly
my loving innermost feelings
remained trapped inside
and I lost my true love
in my dead calm silence of pain
Foolish online Ink
One involuntary bad deed
In Veracruz
Two SAD songs

My shrink says I have a beautiful
Soul a relentles spirit
That I managed to do better then
Most despite hellish adversity
A childhood marred with
heartbreak a trail of
Graves tree stumps
Coffin and treassures
Spirit breath of life and death
My hybrid race was secret
Poverty lack of Rhogam
My father the Apocalyto
Hero killed by MEX Feds
Who stole my Land
We are indigenous
Purhepecha tribe
The enemy of the Aztecs
So me my father's little queen of the forest his STAR could
Fly high and zoar
He was the love of my life
My dad David

A few days of effexor RX can bring about amnesia to block old kidnapping memories of turture resurficing unsolicited
Effexor to stop tears
regulating serotonin disrupted
After a car accident with traumatic head injury concoussion brain swelling so much that falling asleep for three months was impossible

MD prescribed just a trial
few warp eight mind bending Effexsors serotonin reuptakers
For only fifteen days
Half of thirty seven mg
Tears stopped immediatly a calmnesss
self assured old me demeanor
re-emerged I remember the arsenic and blood thiner injections the faces of sadistic jealous women but it didn't hurt

But soon my heart began to speed up so fast I could hear it beating in my ears at lowest dose

so the higher dose was not allowed.
Side effects if used longer than six months could make the
face to twich! who needs that!

So therapy ended slowly redusing small to smallest dosages for fifteen days
treatment ended
Don't like messing with my brain

Today I enjoy simple pleasures
echos born like me in
In the atlantic mystery

family time my lifetime best
best lover best Mother
nest friend to me myself
Remembering those few
Who deared greatly
their wisdom and foresigh to bet
On my future my light myself!
my father's little
Queen of the forest tribute to
My Once Upon A Time
True love his love songs
His poems quickening me
Awaking me
He was the love
Of my life my true love JPC/RC

He showed me he loved me
But he never could "tell me"
He loved me all my fault
Thinking back not ever
any other man told me
he loved me one or two boys wanted something from me freely given or taken by force from me
I didn't want them at all
No person growing up
Told me they loved me and most showed me my life didn't matter
many of my civil rights were violated throughout my life by thugs hainas had more charm
Only my father David San chez
and later my adoptive Mother mommy dearest told me once she loved me showed me she cared.
My children tell me and show me
They love me
Sometimes they hate me too
sadly they are under the spell of deadly sterile drug user enemies who assassinate my character lie and slander me to my grown daughters and I have now become estranged until they figure all out on their own so they learn to fight woolves in sheeps clothing and understand treason
and ungratefulness towards their own mother
There was only one man I loved
The MOST on this whole wide world
His ink scripted love remained the good intermigled with evil
Forever a part of me
My Lord Shiva my first teacher
My sage my guru
My Lancelott
Me  first love my last love
my tree of life he was
The only man I ever loved
and lost
Looking back
I thank G** King Jesus
King Arthur
And few other men who
Traveled in and out my door
Only one had my lock's key
I am glad you came along
I sing this last song
In memory of all the good
The bad and very bad
The few nefarious vipers I kissed
I forgive you all forgive you me for NOT
Understanding you
For loving those fellowmen
Who didn't know how to love me back
I wave my last
Good bye
In your light and my own
Pray for you and me

As for the love of my life
"You are like a prayer
In church to God"
"I remembet you,
as someone something
VERY DEAR and precious"
You were the Best
You touched my STAR
And my starry skies sparkle
With your light remember me
in the same light my love
Look me up with your telescope
When you watch the stars
From your sun roof
In your bedroom

Find my Aries Constelation
For there is
My home
I've taken with me a piece
Of Veracruz
A Mothers Day surprise
at the Hilton
raised in your arms on a warm June at a  bar
Where i felt like a bride
your bride

I almost asked you then and there to throw a big party
for you and me
But the monastery's dead silence
Growing up isolated
Silenced the spontaniety
Of thought you required of me
yet again!You regressed me you
tried in so many ways for me to
tell you  "I love you I am sorry
I'll marry you!"
All over again
I adored you remember this
Look me up with your telescope I AM
in The Aries Constelation I am Aprils daisy Aries diamond a
Yelow Self Existing Star says the Tzolkin Star Seed
Galactic seed always flowering....Enter me
Yours Always.
Revised 11-29th-2018
Excerpt from my memoir
auto biography
Alice Kay Jan 2013
Oh **** it!
I ate a whole slice of cake,
how could I?

I'll never get to 90 lbs. this way...
When my parents go to bed,
it'll be another trip to the bathroom
to get rid of those ugly calories.

I'm never hungry anymore,
and I only eat one meal a day
(of course, only half...only fat people eat full meals)

I can already see all of my ribs,
I that's good right?
all the models look like that.

Maybe now I can fit in with the real crowd,
and I'll get a good guy.
All I have to do is get my stomach a little more flat,
lose those 3 more pounds.

Then I'll be perfect.
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2017
all I've learned from love


for the fedora man, 10/29/17 10:34am


another song done me wrong on a Sunday morn,
so much due to do, a list not for compilation/publication,
including poems promised and weighty deadlines overdue,
for its tedium would still be lbs. heavy in weightless space

instead a lyric plucks my attention, of course beeping,
insistent chirping a chorus of, write me right now,
immédiatement dans son français de Montréal,
this is the item that needs to be list topping,
now whispering a messenger-angel name dropping
a request formal from the fedora man dressed in black

all I've learned from love,  
a listing doomed to comprehensible incompletion,
a listing to the right as new reasons in-come
constantly from the left, each heart beat a
remarkable reminder that the list grows longer

every day, the repeating seasons, proffer suggestions,
disguised as a newly revised ten commandments,
obedience to which is a wish list for
attaining grace

all I've learned from love is its duality, essential quality,
a human single cannot attain the commingling required
for the visioning a peak season of life colorful,
its sad corollary, leaves falling exposing the body bare-****** of the soul linear alone

all I've learned from love is its shining skin is an agreed upon
indefinable nature, other than we all recognize how our
definition personal exists in that Ven diagrams space where
our circles intersect, when A breaks the skin of B, creating

all I've learned from love is without it no matter what
somewhere inside is a desperation pocket that is
an inquisitive irritant, a brain burr, a pea under the mattress,
a high and mighty 1% of disarmament incompetence that rules the imbalanced balance of my bottom line on the top of my head

all I've learned from love that it appears on its own timetable,
in surprising trains and planes and baseball games, sitting
alone in a theater or in front of a Rubens, on crazy disastrous
first dates in foreign countries at cafes or non gender
specific bathrooms amidst alternating currents of
this is crazy and this is infinite and ever so sobering
wondrous possible

all I've learned from love is it never shoots straight,
but will always end in a holy bullseye

*Tout ce que j'ai appris de l'amour, c'est qu'elle ne tire jamais directement,
mais se terminera toujours dans une sainte bullseye
Jenna Johnston Dec 2011
This poem was written after watching a few hours of slam poetry on Youtube. Let me know what you's my first shot at slam poetry.*

There are so many words flowing around out there about the big girls. The thick girls, the curvy girls, the p-h-a-t phat girls. About their plush and soft exteriors, their abundant backsides, their willingness to accept themselves and their hopefulness that others will do the same. Their….thereness.
They are beautiful, don’t get me wrong.
They are beautiful.

But what about the skinny girls?

The small girls with petite builds and large hearts and an aversion to the word short. The size two and under girls, the drive thru can’t gain a pound girls, the I AM NOT ANNOREXIC OR BULLEMIC girls.

The girls who will always be referred to as “pixie-like” or “waif-like” or “twig-like.” The perfect model body girls that all of the other girls hate…because of their lack of fat.

Aren’t they beautiful?

The girls with the size 32 bust line, the girls who, at 24, still shop in the junior sections of department stores. The girls who, regardless of their age, their strengths and weaknesses, their experiences, heartaches and joys, disappointments and triumphs, their want or need for life and love will always look like they missed a meal or gave it back purposefully with the intent of becoming even thinner. The girls who, no matter how ******* HARD they try, cannot even weigh 100 lbs soaking ******* wet.

Aren’t they beautiful?

The big girls have to search and search for cute and **** and attractive clothes because of their size. Guess what? So do the skinny girls. Do you know ******* hard it is to find a pair of pants with a size zero waist and a 34 inch leg? To finally find an extra small shirt that doesn’t have one of the top three cartoon characters of the time plastered across the front?

All I’m saying is yes, the thick girls, the curvy girls, the p-h-a-t phat girls…
They are beautiful.

But ******, so am I.
This is an original by Jenna Johnston. If you like it, by all means write it down, but give credit where credit is due, please
raingirlpoet Oct 2014
i'm not proud to say
i'm 85 lbs
that's not much of a girl
but i remember
when being 85 lbs
was all i ever wanted
when i craved a flat stomach
thin wrists
a gap between my thighs so wide
when i spent my days
filling my belly with water and air
taking lunches to school
but not eating them
instead tossing them in the trash because the smell of fresh fruit
made me sick
when i look in the mirror
i see the ghost and skeleton of a girl
who's in recovery
and i'm disgusted
85 lbs
is not much of a girl
i remember when all i wanted
was to be smaller, smaller
when i was 80 i wanted to be 75
75 wasn't enough so i kept purging til i hit 70
70 wasn't enough
65 wasn't enough
nothing would ever be enough
0 would never be enough
-10 would never be enough
i remember when they forced needles into my papery skin
i remember when 80 was enough for me to keep my life
and i remember
when i decided
i would always be enough
i had an eating disorder. i have an eating disorder.
Jen Grimes May 2015
In March I fell asleep
And dreamt of a ribcage
Like the branches of trees
When I was 16
I counted calories
Like a clerk at the bank

A week later I lost 5 lbs
And you told me i was beautiful
But I knew it was a lie
When I lost 10 lbs
My mom told me I looked good

In April I daydreamed of bones
And ate carrot sticks for dinner
When I lost 20 lbs
And fell asleep on your couch
You held me together in your arms
When I lost 25 lbs
My mom said I looked tired

In May I had a nightmare
About birds stuck in a cage
I woke up with sore ribs
Pictures of models
Lined my bedroom walls
But I didn't stay long

In June I moved to another bed
A different room
My ribcage extended like branches
But the birds stopped singing

You came to visit me
But were afraid to hold my hand
You thought my bones would break
My mom stopped telling me how I looked
She just dabbed her eyes

That night I dreamt about floating
In a river so wide
There were no branches
To remind me of bones
You cried and told me not to go
My mom begged me to stay
But the light was so bright
I couldn't look away
always anxious Sep 2014
that girl in the conor
80 lbs of weight
she's beautifully broken
skinny almost dead

that girl in the front
200 lbs of weight
she's happy and giggly
but fat and almost dead

we have me in the middle
100 lbs of weight
i'm neither happyor beautifull
i'm fat, living but not at all alive
At the mailbox, again:
“Who loves me, baby?”
Well, let’s see: there’s a flyer from Mercury Insurance,
Reminding me that most middle-income customers
Save an average of $4 million smackaroons when they switch too.
The Penny Saver is here,
Thank God, almighty!
So now I know that Thomas Roofing & Paving
Is having a special on 20-year leak-free flat roofs;
"All work guaranteed & insured.
No job too big or small.
Free estimates/Emergency services/License # I8U-69."
And thank you, Jesus,
For another $4.99 Farmer Boys 3-Egg Breakfast
Combo with Coffee coupon, and that
Little Caesars Hot-N-Ready, $5.00 cheese or pepperoni,
Mae-West-“why-don’t-you-come up and see me sometime?”—mailer. And, of course, another technology Siren’s song:
Verizon FiOS delivers entertainment this big,
Dish me up some dish NETWORK, $19.99 a month . . .
Are you ******* me?
For 12 ******* months?
AT&T;: whack me off on 120 channels. - DIRECTV® Official Site‎
Worry-free 99.9%  . . . cue Joe E. Brown,
"Some Like It Hot“ Osgood:
"Well, nobody’s perfect!"
Time Warner/Sprint/T-Mobile;
And ******* Leather, Polk Street, San Francisco.
******* leather?
Must be for my neighbor: that ***** ****!
And here’s the weekly 8-page color fold-out from Stater Bros:
Lowering prices every day, large cantaloupes
(Jessica Lange, are you back?)
10 for $10.00, 32 oz. Gatorade
Or 24 oz Propel in 30 assorted varieties @ 79 cents
+ CRV: California Redemption Value?
Nice euphemistic cover-up for a TAX.
Nice, nice, very nice, CA elected state officials;
Nicely done, Sacramento.
Everywhere else in the country you get real money—
A fixed number of pennies, nickels, or dimes—
For your plastic bottles and aluminum cans.
But in California, the licensed recyclers
Get to pull the market price out of their *** each morning.
California Redemption Value?
What ******* genius government kleptocrat thought that one up? Conspiracy Alert: who gets all that CRV money?
And what are they doing with it?
Feeling plain, Jane?
Marinello Schools of Beauty, want you,
Offer you hands-on training in cosmetology,
Skin care esthetics, manicuring and vaginal deodorizing—
Just kidding, Babaloo.
Food tip for the Third World:
Never try to write poetry on an empty stomach.
Sizzler 6 oz juicy & succulent.
El Pollo Loco guacamole chicken sandwich,
Coupon free, small drink and small chips,
When you purchase a guacamole or jalapeno sandwich,
includes pepper jack cheese and a southwest sauce.
Gardenas sandia con semilla, 7 lbs 99 cents.
GARDENAS: “en precios, servicio y calidad, nadie nos iguaia.”
Bud Gordon’s Quality NISSAN:
One at this price after a $1500 factory rebate.
TERMINIX: get them before they get you!
The Kingdom Animalia, Phylum Arthropoda, Class Insecta
Bug up my *** again.
And a form letter from the VA
Asking me to please update my whereabouts.
And a form letter from the VA asking me
To please update my whereabouts.
And miles to go before I sleep.
Bite me, Mr. Frost!

An outing, at last.
I am going for a walk around the inside of my gates.
I live in one of those gated over-55 lunatic asylums.
There are gates. It is gated. Get it?
GATED! We feel safe here.
Probably a good thing at our age:
Self-imposed institutionalization,
Putting oneself in an asylum to ferment and die.
The fact that so many of us
Need it so bad at only 55
Says something itself about the current state of
Baby Boomer metal-fatigue.
I am now standing at the far end of the golf course.
I wait at the far end of the 18th Hole.
A ball bounces past my head and
Rolls off past the green into the far rough.
The 18th Hole is perched atop a small plateau,
Out of sight, far above the horizon for anyone teeing off.
I am Puck, invisible and impish.
I pluck the ball up.
I scamper to the green.
I pop the ball into the hole.
Which is better than popping a hole in the ball,
Surely, kind of a drag,
As we were once fond of saying.
Deflated Ball.
Deflator Maus.
OPERA can be ****.
Bodice-ripping corsets, whorehouses and naked ******!
Hardly what you might expect from
A night with the Welsh National Opera,
But they found their way into this production of "Die Fledermaus."
Ripe language, contemporary jokes and
Toilet humor thrown in, adding immensely
To the pleasures of Strauss’s operetta.
"Die Fledermaus," or The Bat’s Revenge,
Is all about drunkenness and adultery.
Despite being written in the 1870s,
It remains equally pertinent to today’s pub culture of excess.
Daring; Colorful; ****: PGA golf.
I steal a golf ball on the far end of the 18th Hole.
I pick up the Titleist and stick it in the hole
(Steady Jessica, not yours.
I hide behind your bush.
(Cue up PSA, First Lady Bird Johnson’s 1960s
Nationwide Beautification Campaign:
“I want everyone in America to plant a tree,
A sherrrr-rub, or a booosh.”)
The golfer now searching frantically:
Why is the cup always the last place they look?
Then, wham, bam, he looks:
A legend is born.
A hole in one,
His name forever immortalized
On a plaque over the bar, the proverbial 19th Hole.

As you know, I speak for all mediocrities,
Safe in my 55+ gated-community.
I go next to the Club House,
"The Lodge" as it’s called.
Each afternoon, the usual suspects
Claiming first come/first serve tiered mini-theater seats
Where Netflix matinee gems are screened.
It is two minutes to DVD show time.
I walk to the front of the room.
I stare at my audience.
I count the house slowly,
Making meaningful eye contact with each wrinkled face.
I cup my hands behind my back and speak:
“I assume you are all here for my lecture on Kierkegaard.”
No one reacts.
I turn to leave but do a double-take and smile.
One old woman in the top right corner of the amphitheater laughs, Perhaps the one other human being within the gates
Who has also smoked a joint today.
For an instant, I am overwhelmed with paranoia,
Perhaps I’ve gone too far over the line:
No longer “oh-he’s-a-character;”
I am now “that creep is ******* nuts.”
Is it time for someone to approach my family,
My next of kin, my “who-to-contact-in-event-of-emergency” number? Who will make the call on behalf of the HOA—
The Homeowner’s Association—
The Tsars, the Duma, the Supreme Soviet in these parts?
They are the power inside the gates;
Those who determine the state’s enemies,
Who govern its community norms.
Power within the gates.
Law within the asylum.
Little Hitlers one and all.
Hopefully they reach my sister first.
She’s been briefed.
The new narrative is non-linear.
We can no longer sustain a narrative understanding of ourselves;
We are each an individual stream of consciousness,
All of us random, non-linear and disconnected.
We grow more and more disconnected from others.
We may be neighbors in space and time,
But we remain deprived of any significant human contact;
Any spiritually significant human contact.
Our social circle narrows to what can fit in The Telescreen;
We become more intimate with a legion . . .
Did someone say a legion? SPQR:
Am I having some sort of genetic-linguistic seizure here?
Am I channeling Benito Mussolini again?
Il Duce speaks to me from the grave,
Still blowing smoke up my Hopi-Jew-*** ***,
Filling in my insecurities,
Plugging the holes in my character
With delusions of classical Roman grandeur, glory and empire. Hmmmm? Quite an appetizing pitch for the average *****,
A message so completely, so ethnocentrically slick,
Olive oily, and so seductive.
A non-Italian would have thought
American Legion or Legionnaire’s disease,
Or The Foreign Legion, The French Foreign Legion.
The French: a virulent, promiscuous people.
Do you want fries with that, Simone?
No, I don’t get out much.
Only an occasional brisk walk around the asylum,
In and around the golf course, around but inside the gates. (LINKS) Bill Gates. Daryl Gates. Billy Bathgate’s Gates? Ghiberti’s Gates? The Hot Gates? Thermopylae? 300 Spartans/700 Thespians:
“The noun causing idiots to think of
Two girls sloppily eating each other’s mighty vaginas,
When they hear mention of someone being an actor.”
Not even close.
No, I rarely venture out.
This is Hemetucky.
There are methamphetamine-stoked
Teenage zombies at the gate.
Note to costume control:
Perhaps camouflage clothing is the safe choice?
No loud red Hawaiian.
No garish Indonesian batik.
Fleet of feet are these Hemet tweakers,
These cranked up Riverside County teenage barbarians,
These Huns & Visigoths,
These amped up, ravenous jackals.
And why stop there?
These Vandals & Vandellas.
A Motown flashback:
“Nowhere to run, baby, nowhere to hide.”
With or without Martha—
They remain dangerously lethal.
Yes, let it be camo clothes for me.
Those **** heads may be young.
They may be fast.
They may be able to run me down
On a dry grass dog-legged fairway savannah,
Tearing the meat from my carcass.
But the sons-a-******* have to see me first.
Besides, we know who are real friends are.
Hooray for our media peeps!
We become more intimate with a legion
Of television personalities on 125 different channels.
Most of these we know by name and context.
We know their families, their friends,
Their histories, their tragedies,
Their favored hyperbole and manner of speech.
Sometimes we establish intimacy with celebrities
Strictly on the basis of universal body language.
At times–in the absence of any other
Empathetic facility of identification–
We connect on instinct alone.
Instinct: perhaps animal at its core,
An animal kingdom affinity group,
Connecting on a bio-linguistic level,
Particularly when the Korean, or Spanish,
Mandarin, or Arabic,
Japanese, or even Hebrew language version is broadcast.
All languages cryptically alien,
A dense boundary, a barrio border wall,
Undecipherable, impenetrable concrete.
But we’ve never spoken to our neighbors,
Nor do we know their names.
Celebrities are the neighbors we know best;
Although the intimacy is an illusion,
Permission to invade their privacy presumed,
Tacit in the relationship between celebrities and their fans.
I am an independent contractor now,
An outside consultant to the NSA.
Try as I might I cannot crack the enigma,
Kim Kardashian remains far beyond my code-breaking prowess.
I repeat myself:
We can no longer sustain a narrative understanding of ourselves;
We are each an individual stream of consciousness,
All of us random, non-linear and disconnected.
We are more and more disconnected from others.
We may be neighbors in space and time,
But we remain deprived of any significant human contact;
Any spiritually significant human contact.
Our social circle narrows to what can fit in The Telescreen; we become more intimate with a legion . . .
Back to you, David Ulin:
“Sometime late last year—I don’t remember when, exactly—I noticed I was having trouble sitting down to read. That’s a problem if you do what I do, but it’s an even bigger problem if you’re the kind of person I am. Since I discovered reading, I have always been surrounded by stacks of books. I read my way through camp, school, nights, and weekends; when my girlfriend and I backpacked through Europe after college graduation, I had to buy a suitcase to accommodate the books I picked up along the way.”
Thank you, David L. Ulin.
I cannot help myself.
I grow more eccentric each day.
My eyeballs glued to that flat screen!

Cosmo Kramer: "The bus is outta control.
So I grab him by the collar, I take him out of the seat,
I get behind the wheel, and now I’m driving the bus."
Jerry: "Wow!"
George Costanza: "You’re Batman."
Cosmo Kramer: "Yeah, yeah, I am Batman.
Then the mugger, he comes to and he starts choking me.
So I’m fighting him off with one hand,
And I kept driving the bus with the other, ya know.
Then I managed to open up the door,
And I kicked him out the door, ya know,
With my foot, ya know, at the next stop."
Jerry: "You kept making all the stops?"
Cosmo Kramer: "Well, people kept ringing the bell!"
(Share this moment with a stranger.)

I speak for all mediocrities.
I am their champion, their patron saint.
Boom Chaka Laka. Boom Chaka Laka.
Boom Chaka Laka. BOOM!
Isn’t it time Salieri tempted Constanze–
Frau Mozart–with a plateful of Capezzoli di Venere:
“******* of Venus.”
You had me at hello, Kidman.
I know you too well, Nicole.
I knew you from before,
Way before Tom’s Oprah couch freak show.
Listen to me, Nicole:
We are face to face
With the most profound question in American literature:
"What is the grass?
The flag of my surrender?
The flag of my disposition?"
I resort to Socratic maxims: Know yourself;
The un-****** life is not worth living.
Is it stress? Is it lack of conviction?
Everything Jeff Lebowski neither wants nor needs in his life?
I watched you *** in "Eyes Wide Shut," Nicole.
Now I know you with my eyes and your legs wide open.
Thank you, Sidney Pollack.
Sidney knew.
Sidney dealt us cards
From his Hollywood Tarot deck.
We are intimate, Nicole.
I watched you squat.
Bobbie Bachelor Dec 2014
I stand on the scale
I look at the number

I'm fat
I way over 140lbs

What am I doing wrong?
I barely eat anything

She steps off the scale
Walks over to the counter
And opens the cupboard

Peanut butter

She untwists the twisty ties
Grabs two pieces of white bread
Places them in the toaster slots
Pulls down the lever
For ten seconds
Pulls it up
Pulls it down
Waits ten more seconds
Pulls it up
Takes it out
Spreads the peanutty butter across the crisp edges

Starts eating it
Nom nom nom

Her dog moves close to the counter
And begs

She walks away
Drops a few crumbs
And the dog eats it up

And follows her into the living room
And looks up

Nom nom nom nom

She just looks at the dog
Puts her bare foot against his nose
Which is cold

And the dog doesn't even move
Sticks his tongue outside his mouth
And breathes quickly


She puts her foot back down
And moves it against the rug a few times

Then walks into the kitchen
And opens a bag
Of salt and vinegar chips

Starts eating them
Nom nom nom nom

Dog catches the crumbs and slides against the kitchen floor
She walks back upstairs
And the dog follows her
To her room

She shuts the door
And the dog starts scratching through the bottom
And barks

She just lays in her bed
The dog barks again

She opens the door
And pushes him
With her right foot
Down the stairs

He tumbles down the stairs and hits the kitchen floor
He races back up
Gets pushed back down
Dog runs away

She walks towards the bathroom
And uses the other scale

And she sees that it says 141 lbs

I've only been eating for a few minutes


She closes the bag of chips
And stomps downstairs
And places the bag on the counter

Dog waits in the living room
Right next to the kitchen

His food bowl is empty
No water
Sam Temple Mar 2014
frozen fallout shelter housing dried goods and tinder
black bean and rice prepper bent on the end of days
looking first to the sky and then to the government
absorbing radiation and propaganda
faster than organic apple juice can flush the system
triple berry blast yogurt smoothie shakes violently
in hands coated with Lyme and the scent of the non-believers
bodies unburied lead only to disease and discomfort  
stench filled landscape harboring mutated mankind
arms outstretched seeking normalcy and edible grains
contaminated meat from damaged cans sits unprotected
thin and frail lithosphere no longer preventing dermal cancer
only encouraging drought and famine while burning retinas and emaciating newborns
procreation as a plan of self-destruction and child-abuse
distant smokestacks, cracked, create a forlorn skyline
instilling visuals from days gone by
of easy life and happy youngsters
before the nuclear discovery
Loisa Fenichell Sep 2012
Boy left me feeling raw and pink, like the baby born a comma in the taxi
17 years ago. Boy left me feeling like Aunt, who didn’t know any better,
but still knew it all, and now she looks like a graveyard. When I was 14, I went
to her funeral, sat Shiva with her (my?) family, didn’t allow myself to cry, but I did.
Opened Photo Booth app. on my MacBook when I got home, because I didn’t know
what my tears looked like – I just wanted to see myself cry. I love crying,
and I love when other people cry. I think that I don’t like crying alone, but I do;
I keep people on speed dial, so that they can hear me cry. Boy used

to be on my speed dial. He and Aunt were the only ones who could
unravel my guts, but then Boy raveled them back up again. He gave me up
for the Girl with Brown Hair living in the next town over. She lives in a house
that quakes, and tilts. They say houses are like dogs. That people buy houses
that look like themselves. My house has a rich, bleeding door, and shingles
that try to bring me back to nature. I am the exception, although I do try
to bring myself back to nature. There is a forest in the back of my house –

it is brown, and deep, and swallows the monsters stuck in the squiggles
of my eyes. Last year, I went to the forest at night, and slept there. My mother
didn’t know. My father didn’t know. They’ll never know. My father
would have been okay with it, if I had asked. My father called himself
a pushover when writing his brain’s biography, and I murmured in agreement
when I read it. Or thought I read it, but I don’t know how to read properly yet.
I can’t keep characters in my head. I eat characters

for breakfast, along with Nutella. I’m 5’5”, and weigh 130 lbs., and buckle over
when I walk, because my crying weighs 50 lbs., so I push the Nutella
out of my stomach. The Nutella is in Boy’s stomach. Probably in
Girl with Brown Hair’s stomach now, too. I miss Aunt. I wish
she could eat Nutella with me. Next week, I’ll bring a jar of it to her grave,
and a camera. Cry and have a photo shoot, maybe, because I don’t know any better.
Clem May 2016
my subject, mrs. ((brown?))
for this speech is
going to be: obesity. ish.

you see I remember
the article you handed out to us,
a dry white piece that told,
in simplest terms,
the most inarguable & bland facts
about !healthy eating & !weight loss!

but mrs ((whatever)), I want
to tell n and the entire
******* crisp class,
that obesity is a load
of steaming ****
from someone who’s really fucki
ng sick (you know how much
better it stinks then)

that obesity
was made to be glorified,
I don’t tell you this—
I ****** jiggle it to you,
grab my santa clause puch and
shove it at you--

tick tock
we wait for the clock
to tell us what
s to come,
except it makes us guess

--see this:
a mid-age woman, mother,
fat & previously fat,
goes in for stabbing pain in the chest, or
chronic diarrhea,
seeing stars & no energy left.
((this happens))
the doctor says,

well let’s weigh you n see
if you’ve lost
the weight I told you to lose before
remember Sharol

now Sharol..,,,, sweety…..
you weigh 55.62 lbs over the
state-set “healthy limit”k,
so we’re just gonna give u these
diet pills & I promise they work,.
all nach-yer-awl u see, none of that
waterweight ******* [! excuse my language]

and in about 3 months you’ll lose
half that overweight,
and I promise the starsll go away and you’ll
feel right tip top okay now that’ll be
$60 & come bac k in a month to tell me
how much you’ve lost okay

haha but that’s alrightright?
she was unhealthy
doctors make you healthy

only her brain cancer maybe, or like, colon
cancer or literally anything other obesity

kills her in about 3 months
bc the **** doctor would only
pretend that she cared
wrong with Sharol, sweety…,,,

im sharol and so are you and
so is your uncle & so is
your mother, probably
because most of us are “obese”

& the only cure for obesity
is the cure for the term
“obesity” you see
listen i wrote this angry i know it's not good
Geno Cattouse Oct 2012
I cant write tonite  cause my head is out on leave. This is sooooo not like me.
But guess what this is a launch pad for me.Numbles I call it. My ***** it place where lazy minded magic happens. unfocused to absurdity. Oozy woozy just say what you wanna say. My mother hates that part of me but at my age what will change. No harm ,no foul.

My mother is eighty nine and still molding me. Man if she only knew the holes I have crawled in and out of Like the March Hare always running late. A day late and a dollar short.  *******. Back in the day. Pre crack but just barely. Saw the beginnings of the demise of dignity. kneeling down in dark alleys and between parked cars in blazing sun. Was not about to try that one. My nose was  an Oreck. That was fly enough for me.

Bright lites big city going through my head. I don't care cause you don't care.
I built myself a edge by hanging round Poco Locos, mind you round not with. Playing Russian roulette mad ******* mad dogs. Clowning With hard heads with nothing to lose. Those guys taught me not to blink by osmosis.

I didn't think I was tough just committed. Riding that diesel till the wheels came off.
Something behind my eyes I think or maybe something missing from them . More than a few Ride or die types just didn't trust what they saw. Man was I stupid.

To this day I cant say what it is . Pound for pound big guys would turn around. The exquisite buzz of hard liquor came trundling out of my mouth in seething cold poetry and they became less than nothing in the moment. Spontaneous malevolence. It was gonna happen for good or ill. Cats would look at me and do Chinese algebra. I could hear the abacus click. Maybe I wasn't worth the hassle. Maybe.

Dude I am five foot six never topped 200 lbs.
Dad never showed. I still love him. I look in the glass and he looks right back at me.
Only heard he was an oddity. Guess I garner it honestly.

Lucky in cards. Unlucky in love. I cant play cards it never interested me.
Love on the other hand. Nothing but sevens. I would not insult myself by claiming to have game. I think women liked my honesty. Honestly .If I cant say it without looking up and to the left then it aint worth the air. Besides I would rather you get your cookies off first and last. Just save me a nibble or two.

Mine eyes have seen the gory .
Wrong place. wrong time.Like moth to flame.
Oratory and pure abandon have kept me upright.
Lotta dumb luck too. Lots.

A small number of women are standing still where I left them.stricken in amber.
In my youthful irreverence . In my minds eye a tear.In my minds eye.
What would have been. I was to blame. Of that I have no doubt.

See. this is where the Numbles crumbles.
I scoop from the bottom and bring up the dregs.
Pretty soon the tale sprouts legs.
See Ya.
Ivy Haegan Jun 2017
Girls my height are supposed to be petite
Skinny and proportional
When I would read seventeen magazine and they would show the best outfits for your body type
Mine was never on there
Not big enough to be curvy
Curvy girls in magazines were curvy all over
and average height
The petite girl wasn't supposed to have curves at all
The petite girl was thin
The petite girl could wear anything

Why can't short girls have *******?
Because when we do, we're a fetish
And for some reason, when you fit a fetish people assume you're there for them.

"I like short girls because you can pick them up when you ****."
"Short girls don't have to get on their knees."
"Can you **** my **** standing up?"
"A C cup on a short girl is like a DD on a normal girl.”
“I like ******* short girls because I can really take control.”

My mom always criticized me for wanting to dress slutty
And it broke my heart because I never wanted to look slutty
I just wanted to wear what my skinny friends could wear
And sometimes it's hard when you can't find high waisted shorts that cover your *** all the time, even right after you stand up from sitting in the car for 30 minutes and they rode up a little, but a little on you is a lot because you don't have a flat *** like all of your friends do, but you can't go a size up because then they're too big and they still don't give you the coverage that at first your mom wanted for you but that you now want yourself because you can feel the heat of people staring because girls like you shouldn't wear those kinds of shorts, and at parties they think it's okay to touch if it's not covered, and you've been in this H&M for 3 hours and nothing fits you like it does that tall, pretty girl with the A cups in the fitting room next to yours,
But how could my mom know that
At 5 ft 4, she weighed 98 lbs on her wedding day
You can wear anything when you look like that
I suppose it sounds better out loud
Lowercase Nov 2015
Don’t you ******* dare
to romanticize me
Don’t act like my ribs poking through my skin
And wrists so frail I’m half-certain they’ll snap too
is beautiful
Because that’s exactly what you’re doing
through your glossy magazine pages
and water-and-kale only lunches
Making it seem glamorous
that I lay dying slowly at my own hands
Don’t paint over my
sallow complexion
And hair falling out in thick strands
As I tried to put up a ponytail
Here’s my thigh gap
(it’s writing my obituary)
but isn’t it just #goals
Don’t make me
the reason a twelve year old girl
is squeezing her tummy
I did not fall for that trap
But I’m in the same pit anyway
I am not a costume
Not the “**** anorexic”
Don’t tell me to learn to take a joke
Because it isn’t a joke
to make my best friend sick with worry
Because the pounds keep peeling off
I’ve felt sinking in my (empty) stomach
when friends ask me “how do you keep so thin?
in pale green tones of envy
when their bodies are so full of life
and mine is withering
and I’m crying over a stupid ******* bowl of soup
that the same girl (but a different one)
would have drank in two minutes
soaking in the warmth in a full tummy
But that I heated in the microwave
three, four times,
forcing down spoonful by spoonful
just to have something in my stomach.
I just want to eat pancakes that don’t taste like dust
but all my meals are tainted with self hatred
and how ******* dare you
teach them that hatred
like it’s *pretty?
onaldayrawfo Apr 2015
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Lex Jun 2014
I love you a lot.
Whether you do or don't have hair,
Whether you weigh 90 lbs or 200 lbs,
Whether you get straight A's or straight D's,
Because in the end,
None of that matters.

What really matters is what's inside.
How much you care about people,
And everything around you.
How loving, and sweet you are,
To everyone.
Whether you know them or not.

So when I tell you I love you,
Know that your outside is super cute too,
But it's the inside that I love.
It's your inside that is my favourite.
And by inside I don't mean your intestines,
I mean your heart. <3
Though your intestines are pretty hot too.


I wuv woo bbl

(P. S. I may have edited it a little since I sent it to you :3)
Falling Apart Feb 2015
Dear Society,
You **** the life out of me. I can't live up to your impossible standards. I can't be pretty, skinny, athletic, smart, outgoing, and carefree all at one once. I don't wear a size 00. I'm not under 100 lbs. I mess up and I will never live up to what you want me to be. I don;t have perfect skin and hair. I don't wear the latest trends nor do I spend three hours getting dressed. I eat pizza on the weekends and have High School Musical marathons. I cry and get mad. I forget to study and fail tests here and there. I wear my favorite camp shirt all the time. I do me, not you. I will set my standards, not follow yours. I will acknowledge beauty in everyone despite their race or size. I am me and you don't own me anymore.
Skinandcurves Aug 2017
My name is _ and I have an eating disorder.

I am _
years old, five foot-something, 157 lbs, blue eyes, brown hair, & no thigh gap.

I go to the gym five to six days a week.

I have a degree, I work full time in a managerial position, and I have a eating disorder.

You cannot see my bones, you cannot see the space between my thighs, you cannot see the rings underneath my eyes for all the thousands of tears I have cried.

I struggle with something real, something people rarely talked about, no one reveals.

Punishment, self affliction, addiction, no type of healing medical prescription.

I don't eat, I eat, I binge, I drink, I purge, I cry, and still I try.

I try to battle every day, "don't count those **** calories" I say. "You know better" they cry but I remark, "Do I?"

All I know of is to hate, hate myself, my body, a disgusting self image that I formulate.

You see beauty, you see curves.

All I see

Is something that no one deserves. A body of disgust, a fat piece of skin.

As a 157 lbs living a 300 lb within.
- [ ]
Ray Suarez Nov 2015
She walked out
And I had to learn
That I was a coward
An orphaned lover
An old house cat
In a grocery store parking lot
I had to face it again
The emptiness
I smoked all of those nights
I was numb
I was nothing
I lost 30 lbs in 2 months
Then it all caught up with me
One night my heart started beating
I couldn't breath
Started to shake
I sat in a corner and watched
The room grow ten times it's size
I heard a static crack in the ears
I was lost and unhuman
I was a rabid dog trapped in a corner
I felt sick for weeks after
I gave up the ***
Switched to drinking
Whole bottles of whiskey
128 lbs, shirtless, screaming
The fellas laughed at the beginning
Until I started throwing ****
Trying to fight everybody, anybody
I had 3 new catch phrases
"I'll ****** **** you man"
"I'll smash all your ******* teeth in"
"I've seen it all man."
After a while it became
Too much for the fellas
And soon they were all gone
I found better company
Dostoevsky, Fante,Bukowski,Hemingway,
Hamsun,Lorca,Sartre, etc.
I found a ****** apartment
in San Pedro
Drank beer and read every night
Until the loneliness felt comfortable
And then I
Became alcoholic
Then i took my wild act
To the streets
A few weeks ago I was at a concert
And this guy kept elbowing me
In the ribs
I said "If you keep sticking that elbow
To me, I'll ****** **** you man."
I said it cool and soft
And the guy looked real scared
And I was too
I had to quit drinking...
I keep thinking about
Rising from his cave
After years of solitude...
A guy at work said
"November's almost gone
Man, this year just blew right by"
And I thought
storm siren Oct 2016
I used to wonder if angels breathe,
In one two three,
Out one two three four.

I was taught by a therapist
That you breathe in
But you breathe out a little longer,
And I've always wondered
What that really did
Because it never really stopped the anxiety entirely
Like the way you tend to do.

And I know my skin is pale,
And my flesh is soft,
And every curve of my body
Would not be considered defined in the muscular sense
Save for the fact that I look so much smaller
Than others.

And I wonder if you'd still love me,
If you saw me emaciated at 110 lbs,
When I was in the hospital.
I could count my ribs,
Without holding my stomach in.

And at 120 lbs,
I wondered if you would have loved me
If I weighed any more,
And now at 125 lbs,
I realize it doesn't really matter,
You love me nonetheless.

And I struggle even still to eat,
Most days I feel sick from drinking too much water.

And I breathe in
One two three
And out
One two three four,
And I'm looking at the time,
And I'm looking at your texts,
And I wonder if you see me
As I see you?

And while I know you love me
As I love you,
I can't help but wonder
Do angels breathe too?
I have problems eating sometimes.
Melideth Jul 2010
I just spent an hour wrestling a dead man.
After the family held him and cried “oh, how unexpected!!”.
I poked him in the stomach and gave him an indian burn.
I got yelled at by the nursing supervisor
and told to take him to the morgue.
Before you go, I was told, " keep the eyes moist.",
Family will be giving these to the gift of life.
So I poured on some saline, in a less than respectful fashion.
I guess I was trying to rally a response,
I knew he was dead, what did I expect to happen?

I can’t really figure where I was going with this…
But at the time, my mind was filling-
Being witness to  a pronoucement isn’t new.
Dead bodies I’ve seen plenty.
I’m almost used to hearing family members cry,
but I haven’t felt right since I doused those eyes.
The cycle goes on and on, but I don't know how to stop.
I don't know how to control myself.
I don't know how to be normal. I don't know how to care less about the way I look.
The slight changes get to me.
The gained 0.1 lbs.
The stressed fabric of my jeans.
The inability to look away from the mirror.
I'm not anorexic, I'm just critical.
Keith Faherty Nov 2012
teardrop stone
arrowhead mother
copper-red veins flecked with crystalline dust
you are just some fat piece of flagstone-
broke off corner of some stone paver-
seated in an empty flowerpot beside 30+lbs. of rusted chain in an old screwtop pretzel jar
and i knew you were.
wichitarick Jun 2016
Well the doctor told me I was out tears ?
The doctors told me I would never sweat again ?
I am 10 lbs UNDER weight & will never gain it back ?
I won't regain a lot of lost muscle ,so I won't be able to lift 200lbs again ?
My appetite is 1/2 what it has been my whole life?
My blood ,heart,other parts ,fat,cholesterol etc. are as good as a teenagers?
My credit will straighten back out this yr.:)

I think the cost savings in KLEENEX,DEODORANT,FOOD, & then knowing I can't lift means my back won't hurt,saves ON CHIROPRACTORS and PAIN KILLERS :)
Plain food tastes "fine" now I can sell off my cookbook & kitchen junk collection:)
I have missed out 30 yrs of junk food , I might as well go for it now :)
with that cost saving and a small loan I can pay off another house & paint it PINK just to freak the neighbors out :):)
Hey I am "POSITIVE" that is a good side to be on :) R.C.
Fun bit of brain cell scrubbing :)  Was written yrs. back while doing re-hab for amnesia,memory loss, re-learning over & over, finding old habits are more instinct than we realize :) not knowing my address but could find my coffee cup:) ? was & is still a great lesson in being VERY thankful Hope folks are well. "peace takes practice" Rick
always anxious Aug 2015
I admit it..
I'm an attention *****.

I starve myself, even though i know how skinny i am, even though i know 100 lbs is not a lot.

I starve myself so people will notice me.
Talk about me.
Feel bad for calling me all that rude stuff.

For the
"I want her body"
For the
"Did you lose weight"
For the
People who will start caring.

So people will talk behind my back about how i never eat.

But also to have legs to die for, and a waist to love.
To be perfect.
Idk if everyone feels like this..
I recently relapsed into my eating disorder again, and this is some of my thoughts.
Don't think i only do it for attention, i have other reasons too.
Mikaela L Aug 2020
300 pounds,
Stumping on the dusty sand,
Golden chains fall off his neck,
Thick rings depart from a block of fingers,
Jo plunges into heavy waters,
Boasts in his riches,

Would you love all the fat?
The fried chicken in his legs?
The alcohol filling his stomach,
To the point of exhaustion,
To the regret of a feeble button,
Too superficial,
Too excited,
To remain amongst the rest.

Do you know the weight of his soul?
200 lbs,
500 lbs,
He's got too much heart,
Much mass,
Tough skin.
I wrote this poem about a very heavy friend of mine. Let's give weight a chance!
David Bojay Jan 2014
I really dont know how much time you have
Your bags are getting lower and I'm loving you a little too late
You're getting skinnier
You've lossed 30 lbs in 1 one month and I think this is your last year standing on earth
I think these are the months to pray
It's a little too late
Don't deny your sickness, when even you know you're ill
You once told my mom you dont pay the consequences here on earth, you pay them in the afterlife
You're paying them now
It must be horrible to live what you were planning to live in the afterlife
You're 25 x2 and I'm the mistake you love the most
Everytime I listen to Guilt Trip by Kanye West I shiver when Kid Cudi comes in
The line "If you loved me so much then why'd you let me go" hurts me so much
I remember you calling me a good for nothing
I think those words have become permanent to my thoughts
I think that's why I saw my self standing in a place for the hopeless a month and a half ago
I dont think I'll ever tell you that I love you face to face with pride in those words
Your figure is starting to become weak, and I'm beginning to worry
It's too late for that, I've come so far with a rope pulling me back
I think I've been walking backwards these passed 5 years
I didn't realize it before then
I don't think I know you well enough
I wish I knew who you truly are, soon to be were
What I do know is that you always pointed at my mother and yelled negativity
Now you're pointing at what grave you want to get buried in
You're paying death in my world you caused hell in
Consequences come in unexpected ways
I guess thats why death is catching you offguard
8 straight years hearing yells I hated
I was tired of it, but used to it as well
I'll always be your son.... dad
I wish things turned out differently
I wish you knew that deep down, I love you
The love you didn't show is slowly tying a rope around your neck
You'll always be my dad, you'll always be the monster I was scared of when I was little
You'll always be the screams of negativity in my ears that keep me awake some nights
You'll always be the July 29th I remember, always
You'll always be what made me who I am now
A suicidal passionate artist
And my friends will always try to defeat my inner war with their consoling words
What they don't know is that you'll always be with me
Even when I'm experiencing success
You'll always be there, to bring me down
And I love you for that..... dad
You'll always be my dad
And I'll always be your son you never showed love to
I love you

— The End —