"licenses" poems
Oh the fun we had as little six year olds,
Laughing loudly and acting crazy,
Staying up till the wee hours laying on the floor watching Hairspray
Oh the hyper times we had as ten year olds,
Sipping a little too much caffeine,
Running around acting like animals in the front yard
Oh the crazy times we had as twelve year olds,
Not afraid to get down and *****
Camping and sliding down dirt in the ravine
Oh the terrifying times we had as fourteen year olds,
Living together for a whole week,
Trying to **** each other with words shortly after
Oh the bonding times we had as fifteen year olds,
The darkest time in my life,
Where we cried and I knew we would always be friends
Oh the lively times we had as sixteen year olds,
Both getting our licenses,
Driving around everywhere just to take fun pictures
Oh the tiresome times we had as seventeen year olds,
Sitting in your car before school,
Ranting and laughing about every aspect of life
Oh the amazing times yet to come,
Attending college and growing older,
Still talking and ranting and laughing like every time before.
Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 10:26 PM UTC
I have longed for this year since fourth grade
When I learned what a val-e-dic-tor-ian was
And realized I wanted to be one.
I have longed for this year since I was fifteen
And wanted to leave home
Go out and explore the bigger world
Free of parents and noisy siblings.
I have longed for this year since my first college tour
And I saw the hubbub
The libraries, the labs, the dorms, the giant sweatshirts
And noticed how small and quiet my high school was.
We picked out caps and gowns
Red
We lead the pep rallies now
The loudest yet
We're taking physics, and calculus, and the SATs
Feeling scholarly
We picked out how our names appear on our diplomas
First M. Last
We have our licenses
Drive to school
We fill out college applications endlessly
And endlessly...
We picked our prom theme
Great Gatsby
We're getting lazy very quickly
Senioritis
Graduation keeps us going
Graduation is the goal
Graduation is the light at the end of the tunnel
Graduation in June
Graduation in red polyester
Graduation in the sun
Graduation is the end
But wait.
Hold up.
Stop.
Stop.
STOP!
Seven more months with you?
You, who I've stared at for four years?
You, whose smiles make my day?
You, whose face I look for in crowds?
You, who are the most amazing person I've ever met?
You, who I haven't even asked out?
You, who have no idea who I feel?
You, who might by some miracle possibly feel the same way?
You, who I'll regret never making a move with for the rest of my life?
You?
Seven. Months.?
HOLD UP SENIOR YEAR SLOW DOWN GRADUATION THERE'S A BOY.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
in the
dry air between
the beauty of poetry
and one too many
poetic licenses.
Nov 21, 2021
Nov 21, 2021 at 2:23 PM UTC
We did not ask for agreements or signatures
even a due diligence, check out each others
entrails, internet outcomes, criminal records
social security numbers
marriage licenses, children's ages, moles
on our mountains of doubt
even a fingerprint on a bare breast
phone numbers, mates and mistresses
drinking and smoking habits
salad preferences, vegan, bogan or whatever.
We did, however, listen to that heartbeat
the words we spoke, the pictures we drew
finished, the colours that we painted
between rainbows
and the children we dreamed
who would look like you and me
if ever born
and how smart they would be
and as naughty as those little titters
of laughter, that cleared every checkbox.
on this shopping list for a mate!
We knew that this partnership existed
there was nothing we could do
to unbreak this bond that grew
from a tiny little seed
into this one big giant momentum
of togetherness.
That's a worthwhile partnership
several levels above commercial simplicity.
Author Notes
The romance continues.......
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
i run the bath once more
and rewind your home, too
cuddled and tucked into each other's core
eleanor
all the sweet lies about sweet love
that were said from you
eleanor
roars howling outside my apartment
wet faces reflect on its windows
you were the patch around these bombardments
whetted daggers under her pillows
eleanor
casanovas in the city
fancying themselves swing stage licenses
hung me out to dry, technically
consider the pegs and dive into silences
eleanor
may god act as he see fit
i did mine, at least...
eleanor
if you've never been in love
eleanor
Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 12:38 PM UTC
Behavior is ******
Bodies are *** objects.
Persons are more than bodies.
Sexuality neither invites,
nor licenses, violation.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 12:17 PM UTC
Floating on restless waters, tonight,
broken moons breathe in waving clouds;
Time is a colander, through which
life escapes, never to return; Yet tonight
the beanstalk remains tangled;
I sat watching swans in the moonlight
where the canal and stream met;
Rock the boat! Peace is a botheration.
Could the road that diverged loop
back to the fork? Walking backwards,
tonight, leaves and assorted bits of paper
fly forward; After the off-licenses close,
someone's dashing for the last bus
before dawn, running in reverse; three
hooded figures lost in the cemetery,
walking backwards; The moon
weeps tears of mist, that
ripple spreading inward in the puddles
after the rain; There's a weeping firefly
crawling in the sink; Or the kitchen-lamp?
Bubbles die to the siren-song of crickets.
Is there is an Ithaca fabled?
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 3:17 PM UTC
Licenses to ****
Permit to lie
It's illegal
To see through another's eye
Unified opinion
On touchy subjects
God has forsaken you
Like other earthly objects
The lame
Are not to blame
But the smug
And proud
Listening to themselves talk
Alittle too loud
*** May sell
Alas it's a ticket to hell
*********** and romance
Are in less demand
A bullet fired into the air
Knows not where to land
Band together
Like atoms
In a molecule
In the hand that pulls the lever
The answer to life is scribed on a note card
In a locker left unlocked
Left ajar
In the rain
Nov 9, 2010
Nov 9, 2010 at 7:53 PM UTC
Crowds gathered and the noise of disobedience shook the neighbourhood whole. I was in the southern part of the city, where sinners sinned and the practitioners groomed the bars and off licenses solely to quench their thirst for liquor. It was almost midnight and hordes of young and old alike chanted and sung merry making song that rang through city; and what a noise it was. And it was on this night I met a lad who dressed as if the night belonged to him. A tall, slender fellow who hadn’t a care in the world. His Caribbean afro would bob up and down as we giggled to anecdotal stories of the past. We were rebels of the night, breaking away from the fragile unity that was the friendship circle.
A few stragglers in the form of Chavs had joined. Many of them formed bonds with the pretty girls, rivalling us out in the end. Deciding momentarily on what our next plan was, we split away from the group and continued midnight drinking into the Holy Lands. We could hear the barking of neighbourhood dogs tangle with the distant explosions of fireworks in the sky. It was beautifully chaotic. But as midnight sinners it was like music to our ears.
“I’m off mate, take care of yourself.” The fellow said as he guzzled his last remainder of his bottled Budweiser.
“You heading home, aye?” I smirked, clearly egging him on to stay out just a tad longer. But, this was to be it. With a hug and a good luck, he was off, towards the mystic backstreets and towards the Ormeau Road. I never caught the young lad’s name, nor did I ever catch his age. It was a strange meeting between the two of us. As if, for one singular night we knew everything about each other yet knew nothing at all. I recall sitting back down on the sidewalk and smiling, before looking up towards the decorative sparkly night sky. And, what turned out to be a spontaneous and random night ended up as a completed final chapter, to a superb little story.
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 8:06 AM UTC
There was a child went forth every day,
And the first object that he look'd upon, that object he became,
And that object became part of him of the day, a part of the day
Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.
Climbing trees became a part of this child,
And playing catch, splashing in puddles, racing bikes down the block,
And tormenting neighbor kids,
And the falling down and the scraping of knees
Became a part of this child.
Nap time, time outs, smelling thyme and rosemary and lavender,
Digging through the crisp verdant garden
All became a part of this child.
Boy Scouts, dinosaur hunting, star searching, pencil drawing,
Became a part of him.
His own parents,
Reading aloud, arranging play dates, preparing snacks,
Supplying toys only to be forgotten about
for a stick or perhaps a box.
Mother off working, leaving by dawn, returning for dinner
And father, strict, the warden, always teaching responsibility,
Both becoming part of this child.
Vacations and swimming and visiting the grandparent and getting spoiled
Going to the zoo and seeing so many terrifying and exciting creatures.
His parents, always feeding and inspiring imagination
Becoming a part of him.
Walking to middle school became a part of him.
Lockers, combinations, IDs, pungent locker rooms, the labyrinth of halls
crowded and loud
The anticipation for lunch, the sweet sound of the three o'clock bell
The flurry toward the doors all became a part of him.
Pushups and crunches and laps and blown whistles
Loving every moment of the cool fresh air
Newfound freedom, licenses, cars, jobs
This responsibility became a part of him.
Plucking, scratching, squeaking, struggling, playing
Sounds of an unproven orchestra growing together,
All became a part of this boy.
Surviving the first day freshman year
So small, so young, so innocent
Growing, maturing, learning, all became a part of him.
School dances and football games and musicals and stress
Cool clay carefully sculpted, melodic rhythms played in tune, rubber ***** quickly dodged
AP class after AP class, notebook after notebook filled meticulously
New friendships formed, old friendships strengthened.
All this became a part of this child.
These became a part of that child who went forth every day
And who now goes, and will always go forth every day.
Dec 29, 2017
Dec 29, 2017 at 12:51 AM UTC
With graduation behind us, my friends, thus began an epoch of slow anxious waiting filled with wonderful times. We ran rampant keeping third party mothers alert and sleepless, while our parents rested soundly knowing we were in good hands: our own. Thoughts of the impending college cold bath swam excitedly in my head, causing soft building of an expectation of golden years.
“””” Part 2
The summer came to an end and I was off to the university, five minutes down the road. It was a weird day. No opportunities came to play out the wonderful situations I made up in my head, months ago. So I felt down in the bouts and, staring at the road, I must have found a million dollars in heads up pennies. So I thought I should lift my head up, like Lincoln, but then I remembered what the history book said. Old Abe was a lawyer without any schooling, and he had the other job too. O yeah, I think he was president. Sitting in class I know I could learn much more than this drunk bro next to me, who will be my doctor someday. Learn more by just lying on the floor at home reading a book or two. But still I have to stay to earn our little paper licenses that say “thank you for your time and your money too. Now here’s some of your money back, over the next 70 years. But, you’ll never get back your time. In fact, we want more of your time if you ever wanna see some of your precious greenbacks again.” And you need a microscope to read all those words cause they want to save money, paper, trees, and all of our gleaming plasticized hopes and dreams.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
In the fall there were two of them. Wild animals, I mean. New driver's licenses of shiny, longways plastic and long limbs that hadn't filled out yet. She was filling out her Freeburg High School T-shirt pretty well he thought. He was taking it off her innocent body in the parking lot. After the lights at the football field shut off and she kept drawing monstrous hearts on the fogged up windows in the back seat of a car it was almost as if she could let it all go. Hardly thinking about him at all as his hand slid under her waistband and she woke up as he was fumbling with a ****** wrapper. How awkward, she thought, to be a teenage boy with a ***** how tragic, not knowing how to handle a latex balloon when you have it. Like the Hindenburg, she thought we're both going to die some day so it might as well be an explosion and I might as well put on a show for it. She could feel his heart beat in his ***** the way that nobody talks about it and she laughed a little at their nakedness and it was tinny in the climate of their hot breath. I love you, she said.
As if it would change anything anyway.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 10:24 PM UTC
I remember that period of time
when we both didn't have
our licenses so we have to
go on public transportations
I love how we used to
share a pair of earphones
during our daily bus rides
to our way back home
That feeling of emptiness
from my other ear
as relaxing music
whispered profound lyrics
It felt like something was wrong
yet I had the privilege to
sit close to you
and lean my head against yours
I miss those times when
we'd always
share a book
during our train rides
Although the books
weren't really read
the only thing we're reading
were each other's eyes
Now years has passed
and there are times when
after a busy and tiring day
I leave my car back home
With an open book in my lap
and an earbud to each ear
I would look over the window
of that bus we used to take
As I torture my own mind
by conjuring old memories
just because I miss
missing you.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 2:24 PM UTC
everyone was Lying under
crumbling Structures
of an
abandoned Highway;
embracing the Rubble
of a
Once-Comforting Silence...
...licenses were Falling
from the
wallets of the passing Bygones...
...gawdlessness was falling from the Sky.
I Rana Way.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 11:20 PM UTC
there's no couching this effort...
celluloid film jitteriness of memory...
akin to a centipede thrumming
about a dank cellar.
i can not vacuum this stead...
with mind over matter...you
are It...the holy of holies afforded me.
noteworthy, and uncelebrated...we are--
as far's love's itemized.
incommunicado, and legendary--
our poetic licenses bestowed upon
one another...years would go where they
go...and concerned parties would head-butt
the genesis/apocalypse of our Go...minus been.
my love's no recourse to lovelessness...
(for you...that is) for...i'm drawn to a
picture, picturing overexposure.
Hardening, hard, and harder times felled
atop us...now help me lift.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 2:13 AM UTC
I always knew your biggest pet peeve was not being taken seriously, but here I am today mocking you. But if I say your hair is a mess, I really mean it looks unbelievably adorable when it curls up like that, just so.
And I know you could never be my chauffer, I know that now, and it isn't because we both don't even have our licenses yet. I'm simply coming to terms with the fact that I live inside of a bubble, underground, a million kilometers below sea level. And you are a shape shifter, only able to transform and transcend into creatures with wings. Maybe they don't all have wings necessarily, but wings could be a symbol for freedom, and they most certainly have that ability.
So one day you are a falcon. The next you are in outer space, being a creature that isn't even discovered by man yet. No matter what, you're still free. And I am still imprisoned.
You would think being inside this cell would teach me that no, you do not care what I think about your hair curling up at the ends, just so. And that yes, you are way too high above the clouds for an underground lady like myself. But I just never learn.
Perhaps the only way I will ever learn is when I find a new shape shifter. One who is not limited to beings of the sky, but one who can morph into anything. Maybe even a petite, rusty old key that can unlock me. And set me free.
And maybe, just maybe, that new shape shifter won't even have curly hair.
P.S. Please come soon.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 12:55 AM UTC
Policies defined by the police, homosexuality, corruption by employees. Abuse of the pharmacy - Mom comes from ****** and demons of Azaz. This is the city that the dogs of Moab **** and the land; The accessories are security tools for terrorism. Homosexuality, to the doctor's particular conviction. After the outbreak of the Alhambra. The symptoms of the disease are established and paralysis begins. There are also changes in the city. Female mafia and other ****** Backup copies are protected. Such homosexuality, security device. Emergency options, algebra licenses, favorite editions, Moab city records. Local configurations to protect these devices. The dangers of homosexuality are important. Military circles won: after the wars. In the environment, cancel it. Other Country Country Country Morcha ***** and countries Country Suspicious patterns. Police, employees, prostitutes, merchants, depression, night, the devil says that wine is a city; Average gay, prostitution, prostitution and country. More security improvements. The police of this device protected the fear of homosexuality, the weakness of the faith; hospitals; The post-traumatic problems of the destruction of the devil by the Algerians. Positive changes in the cities ****** and visitors. Young mafia couple. ******* and country The police stopped to ask questions about the police. The danger of decadence, homosexuality, depends on the disease; Common drugs Post-traumatic and air-conditioned problems. Algebra, the evolution of the ********** friends and repairs; Mafia area. Country of prostitution and ****** Additional benefits for the police, homosexuality, veterans protection. Impact drugs after the alsemeera. Satanism after the event. Change of disabled and rebuilt city. Fornicadoresputo and adulterers; The police killed the police, more security. these drugs, corruption, psychology; Alzeihmer is a problem of post-traumatic Satanism. Gypsy Depression The intriguing private attraction that attracts gypsies is like two blind gypsy guards who seek the best possible entertainment in the future. The foundations of the mafia, other police and security forces. Applications, terrorism, homosexuality, faith. Hospitals after his death,
The Alhambra had withdrawn from the brothers.
Prostitution and violence have changed.
Who and the changes in the city. queen
of the Mafia, health and the land; Next device.
Police wish these catastrophic, catastrophic
protections, Homosexuality, security. ************
Emergency situations, algebra, change.
Pants and communication of municipal
books. Tips - The spaces of prostitution.
****** and Moabitas in the front coverage
For diseases and the guards of prostitutes.
So Danger the dangers of homosexuality.
they are motivated by corruption; The illness
Hospital, parasites, other directed products.
Employment Women and the gods.
of Mordecai. For the moment, we propose.
The next source. Of services, homosexuality,
Due to corruption to the harmful effects
of Come. Of the ****** of Azaz and the
demons. This is the city where Moab
is located. Love with the ground and other
policemen are lost. Improvements, security
tools for homosexuality. Of the terrorists,
a condemnation especially to the doctor.
After the beginning of the Alhambra the
relationship between the rooster ***** and
paralysis. Start With changes in the city.
Mafia female and other copy. The security zones
are protected Such A device of the security
of homosexuality. Emergency license options,
algebraic acceptance. The change that is changing
in the city - Moab. It is cut for the protection
of these devices. The dangers of homosexuality
They are important. The victories won:
after the effects Environmental drinks, revoke.
Another city of Morcha and his suspicious
Country Blood, ****** Cars, and more.
Nov 22, 2018
Nov 22, 2018 at 8:21 PM UTC
Sometimes I wanna write about her, but I gave her this link,, so every so often she comes to read. It'd be weird if I spoke about her cause I hardly ever talk,, but if only she knew my discomfort around her sister and friends. They got this LA based logic that glamor is everything. So they pry and pluck and criticize everything. She's great I know she's a libra, but I won't make a move. Mainly cause I'm still building my life so I ignore most girls. I'd say I'd date her but be her bf I don't know, I can't really since I don't really know her but I'd love to court her, get to know her bit by bit. All she is, is my friend nothing more. It'd be nice if we could spend more time alone I'd have more to say than when placed in a group. New yorks the dream n so is hers I find that kinda heart warming. Like who knows maybe I'll see her one day walking down main ave. with a ring on her finger n coffee in hand, n we'll catch up n she'll tell me how she's got keychain licenses from every major city. She's a great girl, that she is and she inspires me n fans my flames. I'll make it someday.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 4:20 PM UTC
When thunderstorms lie dormant
is the time when my heart sings.
Despite my love for sunny skies
and shining wedding rings,
my heart will cry for thunder,
raging through the towns and trees,
to take my soul to splashing,
making waves as angry seas.
The lightning flares my soul,
prepares my heart for greater things
than fancy driver's licenses
and long forbidden things.
So very soon I'll fly away
to where I've never been.
And you'll have never known me,
and you never will again.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 12:28 AM UTC
If you need a place to pick your nose,
Eat contraband &/or beat your meat,
God bless the child that's got his own,
That's got his own bedroom,
His personal Reichstag bunker,
His private Junker Bauhaus,
If you get my drift?
If you don’t, “Get Bent!”
I am not here to entertain you.
So I am coming in from garden hosing--
Not lederhosen, you Aryan punks!--&
I'm on my rear patio thinking to myself
I couldn’t get any higher,
Even with Jackie singing:
Search Results Jackie Wilson - (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher And Higher (Best ... Aug 11, 2011 - Uploaded by jakebucknall 123 Jackie Wilson - (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher And Higher (Best Quality). The Staple Singers -I https://www.youtube.com/watchv=mzDVaKRApcg.
But I digress.
A spot of hose magic,
Watching my garden grow.
Keeping things moist & fertile,
Leonard Cohen (RIP) on the airwaves,
A fat blunt betwixt my lips,
"Curling up like smoke above my shoulder."
“Don’t get me started,” I said,
Paying tribute to beloved Joan Rivers (RIP)
Lost so senselessly, so humorlessly,
To some whack-job-wonder boy,
Who just happened to score perfect 800s
On his high school SAT exams, &
Later worming his way into Med School,
Which rather begs the obvious question:
Those 11-year old Frankensteins,
Why did their Bubbes give them a
Chemistry sets for Chanukah?
Later earning state Medical licenses,
Licenses to practice,
Licenses to **** & just say
“OOPS, I did it again!”
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 3:33 PM UTC
The severity of the seriously
scientific professoring of poetic licenses
severing limbs
and one's sanity to turn
into a lackluster one dimensional
word
for word
matter of fact, i.e. Flat.
Now there is research and refined references
like mad-haired alchemists
having mixed two tinctures
wrongly
such liquids
exploding
whilst hypothesized
unremarkable through their myopia
faces intimate with the thickest book
make out session
with the obtuse...
A bureau, hmph
an organization dismissing the muses
and the breath
that we devour
a study on the facets
and romance
with life
written art works
spoken odysseys
magnanimous numbness of verb
magic of lustrous ***********
of star crossed
tempests
evermore a ravenous
soul
Poetry needs no bureau
The heart is only
a lonely hunter
if love were not its prey
to feel free
and truly alive
is the honest purpose
of the written and spoken
word
of poetry
of art of happiness
dancing the night away
in sonnet streets
who do we endeavor to example
when it is our own pen that must bleed
the awful truths
that needs combustion
the foreplay of time / life whispering in italics
beautifully
breaking down
laughter's tintinnabulations
all the world
all the life
our Oyster...
But seriously tho'
what the dealio...?
when I want to hear
a fearless something
soaked
and sensual
and real
so good
the words bleed rain
beaus
utter not
the words not words but
electricity
inner watercolors murals
from the emotions
this art dreams
intermingling
touching prose of roses
its scent a ghost
thick in the recollection
of farewells
the experiences we parallel
all in literary gusto
somehow
communication
erected from **** tube boxes
and artifice waves of wide webs
the slang jive
secret languages whined
signs and pics
depicts inflicts these times
slays the joy
and lovely words
of tiding of wise sayings
you say
with Monet expressions
your a lovely day
ignite me
the Beloved / the songs
the sun
a face of love
a glow
Do you feel me?
lub dub lub dub
the haiku sonnet odyssey
poetry
that is Life...
Today's lesson -
(seriously)
go learn to fly
a kite.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
When asked why I'm scared to get my licenses:
For a multitude of reasons. Most of them centering around my anxiety. It terrifies me. It makes it hard for me to concentrate and I don't feel too comfortable behind the wheel of thousands of pounds of metal without my focus being on point.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
I love
--the candle--
the wick the fire
the lick of my hair with
the spit that holds it together
and I've been a radio never ending
counting the days of holding it-- forever
with hope
as wide as the ocean and I expand
as a blank state to be violated
tone deaf to my own cries
i am willful apart from my sore feet
weak and unresponsive
this frame upholds these acidic reactions
through the manifestation of the ejection
of my solemn protest
a cosmical request they ask for
drinking for a ****** later
***** splashes on a bathroom floor
privilege is a blessing not guaranteed
dancing on gravestones restless
upon poetic licenses and with composure aligned
towards the lines of our sky.
and I beg
I beg to be someone more exciting
I beg to accept my lies.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 5:48 AM UTC
(
•
)
^^^
•
Crippled ole gal
Once was a god but he got hired by
HALLIBURTON
as an anti - terrorism consultant
and says he is doing more for humanity now
And is certainly more loved !
( take that you Liberals )
••
A new law is going thru Congress
giving the states the power to grant
**** licenses
On the grounds that studies show
That women aren't actually harmed by ****
And that men have the right to the pleasure
**** provides them
That is impossible to obtain in any other way
/////
Corporate money is pouring into Washington
As the elites highly favor the bill
••
In other news
86 poets on HP gleefully wrote of
Killing or maiming ex- lovers
Generating
811 likes and approvals
And many thanking the poet for the great idea
••
360,000 children died in oil wars this week
And 500,000 starved to death
Bringing in a massive world wide response
Of
** HUM
SO WHAT?
That caused god to say
DON'T LOOK AT ME
I WORK FOR HALLIBURTON
•
THIS JUST IN !!
Of those on HP
715 poets got laid today
Resulting in 217 self mutilations by razor blade
4116 screaming ***** fits
3 *******
And ( fortunately ) no pregnancies
( though I know most of you don't know of
the connection between *** and pregnancies
Or between pregnancy and child birth )
••
The level of MISERY AND DESPAIR
Has been upgraded from
INTOLERABLE
to
OH **** / WE 'RE ALL DEAD
///
The poets responded
DEAD ? Of COURSE WE 'RE DEAD !
WE WERE BORN DEAD !
////
I seen some kid walking with his head down
Thru the rain drenched streets
I tried to catch up with him
But I couldn't and he's gone
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
It's that time of the summer
when in increments,
slowly,
ever so slowly,
friends depart.
I'm growing up,
but I yearn for a time when I didn’t want to sleep in,
for a time when decisions were out of my hand.
Everything is different
we have licenses
we have jobs
we have new friends
we have lost old ones
we go to see colleges.
No one is staying here.
We are all leaving one after another;
I just wish it were on my terms.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC