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Anya May 2019
Lucky, lucky, lucky me
Growing on a wealthy golden tree
On juicy branches living peacefully
Oh lucky, lucky me

Lucky, lucky, lucky me
Picking sweet fruits of prosperity
Each day luxurious as can be
Oh lucky, lucky me

Lucky, lucky, lucky me
Green leaves of money surrounding me
Buying me things, fulfilling me
Oh lucky, lucky me

Lucky, lucky, lucky me
Riches replace true love for me
I have it all, my fortune and me
Oh lucky, lucky me

Lucky, lucky, lucky me
Dying, on a wealthy golden tree
Diamonds and treasures hugging me
Oh lucky... lucky me...
Troy Oct 2018
It makes me mad when people say you’re lucky
When you can do something like take a nap
While they have to be at work
Like no, you are the lucky one

Lucky
Isn’t waking up everyday and wishing it was over
Lucky
Isn’t seeing yourself in the mirror and wishing you were someone else

Lucky
Isn’t the crippling fear that hides itself til you try and open that door
Lucky
Isn’t hoping that people don’t see the tears welling up from the constant ridicule of your own mind

Lucky
Isn’t when your anxiety is so bad you are afraid to be around people
Lucky
Isn’t getting angry or over protective of yourself in fear of what your friends mind think

Lucky
Lucky is when you are able to stand up without fear
Lucky
Is when the outside world brings you joy

Lucky is when you are able to look at yourself and feel good
Lucky
Lucky is waking up everyday without the thought of just ending it

Don’t tell me that I’m lucky
Just because of my crippling depression
Don’t tell me I’m lucky
Because i would rather go back to bed than faking another smile

Don’t tell me I’m lucky
Just because I know how to put on that brave mask
I wish I was lucky
Just lucky enough to escape my own mind

Lucky enough to push past the fears
Lucky enough to feel energetic
Lucky enough to be genuinely happy
Lucky enough to push through that door
Yeah I really can’t do the outside world..
The Good Pussy Sep 2014
.
                                   lucky
                      ­         lucky lucky
                          lucky lucky lucky
                           luckyluckylucky
                ­           luckyluckylucky
                           luckyluckyl­ucky
                           luckyluckylucky
                 ­          luckyluckylucky
                           luckyluckylu­cky
                           luckyluckylucky
                  ­         luckyluckylucky
                           luckyluckyluc­ky
                           luckyluckylucky
                   ­        luckyluckylucky
             lucky lucky luck y lucky  lucky
           lucky lucky lucky  luck y    lucky        
            lucky lucky  luck   l u c k y lucky      
                   l u c k y               l u c k y
My pick-up truck, trailer home, ...the good book by-my-bedside,
Lost a family, lost my home, ...a terrible twist, twist of fate.
Here I can't escape, that feeling, that I want-to-die,
Found a bottle, quit my job, ...stopped responding to-my-Facebook.

LIFE WENT SIDE-WAYS, REALLY FAST, ..NO PLACE TO GO BUT DOWN!

All I had, gone with the past, a new dark road I took...
Woke up one morning on my floor with the good book on my chest.
Flipped it open, turned it around, and with him, found I'm blessed.

..........and now times stood the test.

I needed to walk, ...with the Son,
Get right back-on-track,
All I needed, was to talk with the Son...

And now they call me the Lucky One,
Now they call me the Lucky One,
They call me the Lucky One,
They call me the Lucky One,
I LOST A LOT/I NEVER WON,
And they call me the Lucky One.


Family's gone but I have the Son,

Now they call me the Lucky One,
They call me the Lucky One,
They call me the Lucky One,
I LOST A LOT/I NEVER WON,
And they call me the Lucky One.


Suddenly I figured out,
All those things I couldn't-ever figure out...

*And now they call me the Lucky One,
Now they call me the Lucky One,
They call me the Lucky One,
Call me the Lucky One,
I LOST A LOT/I NEVER WON,
And they call me the Lucky One.
Remy May 2014
''Lucky''

Boy, I hear you in my dreams
I feel your whisper across the sea
I keep you with me in my heart
You make it easier when life gets hard.


Lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky I'm coming home again.

They don't know how long it takes
Waiting for a love like this
Every time we say goodbye
I wish we had one more kiss.

Lucky we're in love in every way
Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed
Lucky to be coming home someday.


And so I'm sailing through the sea
To an island where we'll meet
Though the breezes, through the trees
As the world keeps spinning round
You hold me right here, right now.


Lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky you're coming home again
Lucky we're in love in every way
Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed
Lucky you're coming home someday.

So darling be home soon
I feel myself in bloom
Without you
My darling be home soon.
lucky died to bring his previous life back to the young dudes



you see, scott mcdonald, who was my old school mate died way back

in the 1990s and wanted to reincarnate as our family cat, lucky, you see

lucky was a cute, but cranky cat especially when it rained, it was scott trying

to rid his crankiness he was like at school, but dad copped all the flaming flack

and in the end lucky was tired and had to be put downy the vet, and it was from

that moment i started hearing voices at work, which drove me really crazy, you

see one voice was from my scott pushing words into pats voice saying, i am not mucking

with yiou like i used to muck with brian, your not a flaming adult, and the boss of mitchell ACTEW

sue, didn’t know what was wrong with me, as i was yelling at my voices through the building

and when i got the job at lower molonglo, cath was worried about me too, and scott mcdonald was

having a field day, trying to lift me away from the powerful thinking people away from me, you see

scott was a bit sick of me, and it looked like he hated me, but then as he reincarnated into my family

as our cat lucky, because one man called me a great big ugly snout and i called dad a great big ugly

snout pushing me with brendan our next door neighbour who i was trying to keep kidnapped with me,

like the song went kidnap brian and kidnap brendan keep brian and brendan in our cages, and scott’s spirit

wanted to reform me, so he made buddha reincarnate him into 2 cats, a grey cat named muscles, and a

grey and white cat named lucky, and muscles lived in my flat and lucky lived with my folks, and in 2004

i started hearing voices from scott mcdonald, trying to make muscles into a wild dingo or a raccoon

and i had to **** it before it killed azaria chamberlain, but i killed muscles and scott mcdonald created

pluto as the love planet and i went to the psych ward to try and be placed on more medications and mum

thought they let me out too early, and scott blamed dad for allowing to have muscles killed, like he could’ve

taken muscles out of my hands, and lucky was blaming dad for the rain and every time i picked lucky up he will

get cranky, you see lucky was caught up a tree for 3 weeks, where scott said, your not one of the young dudes

anymore, and scott was performing concerts on the love planet, and now when i played concerts, scott has been

planting the word woosey in pats voice in my head, and scott was getting tired of teasing dad, and said goodbye to

lucky and as i said, i got voices since lucky died which led me to the psych ward in november 2013, which made me

talk about my previous lives and made me do art and try and get better, while scott mcdonald is now baby **** on the

youtube family the shaytards, and scott is happy to be a human again, after all this crap, and now i am trying to get better

by writing stories and drawing pictures to get the evil out of me, my voices say from people on the street, is never ever

get anymore cats, ok
I am lucky
I am lucky that I am
I am lucky that I am living
I am lucky that I am living in the state
I am lucky that I am living in the state of being
I am lucky that I am living in the state of being in which
I am lucky that I am living in the state of being in which life
I am lucky that I am living in the state of being in which life gave me.
I am lucky that I get to have the items I have
I am lucky that I get to meet the people I meet
I am lucky that I get to see the things I see

But I am unlucky to get to see how my privileges corrupt people.
Make them turn my lucky life into hell.

The ****
The ******
The theft
The battery
The harassment

I am lucky that humans abuse their privileges...
If only privileges given were decided by heart and not birth
©LogenMichel copyright 2016
Australia is the lucky country
Lucky, yes we are
Australia is the lucky country
Lucky, yes we are
The luckiest country
Compared to the Middle East
And I know Australians live in poverty
But we have beaches and footy mate
We also have events to bring the families in
To enjoy this wonderful country
Lucky, yes we are
We have loads of helpers
That look after the poor
We also have people
Who show our great bushland
To walk around and explore
Yes we are the lucky country
Compared to the Middle East
We do have our problems
Like a lot of people do
We enjoy the party people
Because we need to have fun
Yes we do oh yeah
We have great tv from our many stations
We bring what we don’t have on tv
To the radio
Because Australia is the lucky country
Lucky, yes we are
We play carols all over the country
And at the carols we collect money
To give to many charities
We go for walks and runs
And that is what we do for fun
And we march every Anzac Day
To honour Australia’s diggers
YouTube keeps the people in touch
Of this great big world
Because Australia really cares for
Other countries and that is why we are the lucky country
Lucky, yes we are
Aussie Aussie Aussie
Lucky yes oh yeah
Big Virge Jul 3
Ya Know ...
I Always Find It... Funny...
When People Say To Me...

That... “ I’ve been Lucky ! “...

As If They’ve Gotta Clue...
of The Things That I've Been Through... ?!?

I’m... OLD Enough Now...
To Know What’s FOUL... !!!
And To Know That Some Mouths... !!!

Should... THINK About...
What It Is They See In Other Peeps’... !!!!

Cos’ It’s BETTER To KNOW... !!!
BEFORE... BARING Your Soul...
About What You... " Think "...
About The Next Mans’ Sitch’... !!!

Is it LUCKY To Live Where Violence IS... !?!
Is it REALLY Lucky To Come From Money... ?

Because People Act... FUNNY...
Like Bees WITHOUT... Honey... !!!

I DON'T Come From Cash...
Or ANYTHING Like THAT... !!!!!

I Come From A Place  ...
Where Luck Said...

“Hey, your a lil’ too dark,
to not be marked,
as a threat to heads,
who believe in nonsense !”

Like A Lot of What’s Said...
On... Internet Threads...

Now That’s NOT Meant...
To Express Sentiments...
Like The Current US President... !!!!!

How Lucky Can I Be...
To... SEE Him Lead...
Or To Be A Part of A Society...

Where Violence Leaks........
Into.... Our Young Seeds.... ?

Who Now DON'T CARE...
About... Elders Welfare... !!!

So Many Suggest...
That I'm A... " LUCKY Gent "...  

As If I’ve... NOT Dealt...
With... PRESSURE And STRESS... !!!!!

As If I HAVEN'T Been Sent...
To... " Psychiatric Heads "... ?

Because of THREATS That I DID EXPRESS...
When My Mother FACED Death... !!!!!!!!!!

Was It REALLY That LUCKY... ?
To Have A... SICK Mummy... ?

And A Father Who Then LEFT............
Having Dished Out VIOLENCE... ?!?
To Her BODY... Mind and SOUL... !!!

It Seems That Folks DON'T Wanna Know …
How Things In Your Life REALLY DO GO... !!!!

They’d Rather DEFER...
Because They PREFER...
To Suggest That... “ LUCK “...
Has Made Me... TOUGH... !!!!

I’m Tough Alright...  !!!
Because My Vibes DEFIED Hard Times...
So That I Could Live Life And Now Write Rhymes...

That Tell The... TRUTH...
About Luck And It’s Moves....

I’ve EARNED My Luck... !!!!!!!!
It Didn’t Just Come Like The Rising Sun... !!!!!

Is it Lucky To Have...
The Skin of A Man...

Whose... DARKER TAN...
Can Cause... PROBLEMS...
And... LOSS of Life... !!!!
When Police Are In SIGHT... ?!?

I’ve Been LUCKY Alright To NOT Have DIED...
When Police Have TRIED In The Shroud of Night...
To Suggest That I Have Committed Crimes... !?!

In FACT In The Day...
They've Behaved THE SAME WAY... !!!!!

Because of The Sight...
of My... Black Face... !!!

Am I LUCKY To Be... ???
A Man Who Sees *******...
Run... AWAY From Me... ?!?

Because They Seem...
To Think I’m... UGLY...
Or A THREAT To Them...
Because of The DEPTH...
of... My SKIN TONE... !!!

HOLD ON There Bro... !!!!!
Before You Try To Say...

“ That it just ain’t so ! “ …

Have You Lived In My Shoes... ???

If Your Answer Is... NO...
Then I’m... GLAD For YOU... !!!

But DON'T Think That It’s Cool...
To Suggest To Me That I’m A LUCKY Dude...

Or That I Have Been Blessed...
With MUCH MORE LUCK Than ALL THE REST... ?!?

If That Was The Case...
I’d See My Poems ALL OVER The Place... !!!

But That’s... NOT The Way...
That My Artistry... " Sways "... !!!

Am I LUCKY To Relate... ?
Thought Waves That STATE...

A Wish For MORE TRUTH...
When LIARS Are The Ones...
Who... CLEARLY Get Through... ?!!!?

Well My Luck DOESN'T Run...
Quite Like THEIRS Son... !!!!!!

I KNOW What It IS...
To... NOT WANT To Live... !!!!!
And To Then RECOGNISE...
That THAT's... NOT So wise... !!!

Because You Have To LIVE LIFE...
And Give THANKS Sometimes...

But Just BECAUSE Things...  
APPEAR TO BE... “ LOVELY “...

DON'T PRESUME That Your Buddy...
Has... NEVER Been Hungry... !!!!!

You Can Make Your Own Luck...
But Some Get... “STUCK”... !!!

So...
Let Me Put This... BLUNTLY... !!!

THINK BEFORE..........
You Speak Like A... " DUMMY "... !!!!

Because...
Some Folk Can Get... TOUCHY... !!!!!!

When You TELL Them That.....
YOU... THINK That....

They’ve Been.....

....... “ Lucky “ …….
Everybody isn't as lucky as you might think ......
you see in 2011 and 2012,, in around the time my cat lucky died, and my mate was getting

angry with his family, and told me that he hated to be my friend, and i remember that Scott

Mcdonald hated me mucking around the mall, and he died, and came back as lucky the cat

where he was having fun getting cranky with us, sometimes when we picked him up, and when

it rained, lucky would blame  dad for it, but scott was getting sick and tired of this, and created

voices from everyone that ****** me off, coming from people who didn’t, and my mate was slowly

turning off me, probably, scott/lucky’s spirit flying above, you see scott mcdonald owns pluto, in which

we call the love planet now, and from the love planet, scott sent voices into my head making my friend

say, i don’t want to be your friend anymore, don’t ring me, and also, scott mcdonald got into my head

trying to make me not understand my parents, which caused me to fight my parents, over silly things

and all because i was writing **** out of me, and when i went to adelaide in 2012, scott made my friend

not want to talk to me, this drove me nuts, and scott, said, i will **** lucky to make brian’s dad sane again

seeing lucky was in our family for brian,, which was a spiritual quest to see if brian can be calmed by animals

and scott, since i killed muscles due to mental illness, scott has been putting images into brian’s head

like turning lucky into a big cheetah or a big moo cow, and dad never understood, you see in 2013, my voices

at work became bad because lucky had died and scott needed to help me find him, and there was a pregnant girl

in the psych ward with me, who was carrying scott mcdonalds next life, cause i was doing what i did in 2004

and i did what i did, and scott used patricks voice kicking the girl, ya know like a baby does, saying let me out

let me out, brian is trying to be like me and this made the young lady feel weird, but she knew it was bnormal

and you see, as i get up, i hear voices all around saying, your shy brian, shut up woosey and the reason why i say

it was scott/lucky’s ghost because my friend didn’t hate, and also, scott put tabs on my phone, making it ring every

5 minutes making me write tickle tickle tim tum which got recorded on the telephone answer, and now, i can only

make calls, and not receive calls, because scott made andrew jarvis ring me up every day, and dad put a stop to that

with a bit of science from the third realm and while all this body problems, dad is on cloud 9, nursing lucky

saying, you can go off to the love planets, i have no idea if that lady’s baby survived or not, but buddha doesn’t want me to know that

but for dad, buddha wanted me to follow dads next life in instagram, saying, you know, nobody else

because, buddha said, we need to have your fathers next life protected, and you must never know who lucky is

unless fate brings you to him, you see the voices were really making me worked up, because i was keeping fit, 2004 and 2013

and the psych ward off i go, and instead of inning i do a brisk walk, which will keep me fit, you see as i write, i hear the negative me

from the 1990s calling out to me, GET ****** BRIAN, you are a little shy boy now brian, and many other things, like the time

i threw a spider on mum, she jumped, and i remember dad had a little laugh about that, with me, i remember i was swimming in the

pool, and mum squirted the fucken hose on me, because i was too fucken too noisy and i remember lucky being stuck up the trees

for a couple of days and scott’s spirit who was in lucky, previous life, ya know, well scott was getting sick of having his earth body with me, because

of my negativity because i was fat and i think scott mcdonald’s soul is in the young woman, if he or she survived
Audrey Jul 2015
When I was 7, I thought I was the luckiest person in the world
Because I found two four-leaf clovers on the same day
So I made a wish, to know how my story would end
And this year has shown me that I am god ****** lucky.
Lucky in a second-chance,
Once-in-a-lifetime miracle sort of way
That makes my fingertips tingle every time I think about it
Lucky in a breath-taking, tear-inducing way that makes me hold my friends and family tight behind my closed eyes
Lucky in a not-everyone-is-this-lucky realization
That forces me to line up my blessings on the countertop and count them,
Then count them again.
I am lucky, that when I decided to take myself out of this world
I fell onto the hugs and clasped hands of
People who would move continents
Just so I'd have someplace stable to stand.
I was fortunate that the nurse on suicide watch in my hospital room
Asked me to call her Ellie and let me cry on her shoulder during games of checkers.
I thought it was auspicious that the mental hospital served tapioca pudding that tasted just like my dad's,
Bringing memories of cold nights and warm smiles.
It was even favorable that I threw up before I got to the emergency room
Because the doctor looked me in the eyes and said
"If all that had stayed in your stomach,
You would be...not standing here right now"
It was reassuring that he didn't say the word "dead" to my face.

I am lucky, not only to be here, but
To want to be here, to want to breathe this moment
Because once you've spent time in the darkness
It's hard to come back to the light
Now 7 year old me knows I'm lucky enough
My story will not end in darkness.
Work in progress
Shakeraw Sep 2017
Are you lucky enough to have found your soulmate? Have you been blessed enough to find the one who you were made to love? Have you met the one who was so perfect for you, your heartbeats were always in sync? I have, lucky me right? This man was my own personal brand of heroine. I ordered his natural scent than that of any perfume or cologne? The high he gave me was better than any drug. He became the addiction I never thought i could have. And i wanted no parts of cure. He was my entire reason for even existing. Even when he put me thorough hell and blood and tears stained my pillow, i knew life without him would be 10xs worse than any pain he could ever inflict.
Few peoplein the world are lucky enough to find their one in a trillion equal. I have found mine twice which is a phenomenal thing all in itself. Lucky me right? He was my permanent weak spot, my drug of choice, my obsession. And his love for me was wider than the entire universe. We were made for no one but each other. I saw only him in a room full of people. Our very own happily ever after. The perfect fairytale world of any normal adolescent girl was born with him. Lucky me right?
Well, like all fairytales there is always a villain. He came in the middle of the night and stole everything i thought i couldn't live without. In a flash everything i held dear was gone. The very breathe in my lungs left me and i died a slow death. But then a familiar friend found me and breathed for me. SHE poured life back into my brokenness and restored everything i had lost. The love, the passion, the desperation for the love of my life was the exact feeling I got when she walked into a room. Every bar he set she met rapidly. The high, the state of euphoria, she was able to replicate with no effort at all. For the heart palpataions he gave me with every kiss, she put a million butterflies in stomach with the touch of her lips. The mountains of lavish gifts he showered me with, i got her undivided attention which put me in pure bliss. Everything I fell in love with about him I found it in her. Lucky me right? Everything including the fact that i will never stop craving and fiening for them both but i will never again be able to call any of them mine again.
Where you ever lucky enough to find your soulmate? I was, twice. Lucky me right?
I wrote this poem about my husband who i lost to suicide. And i found a very unexpected love in my best friend. And even after we broke up I couldn't figure out why i couldn't get over her. Why i was so drawn to her and never wanted to be more than 5 ft away from her. I never even wanted to get over her and i had an epiphany one day that she was the female version of my husband. They were exactly alike. And it's bittersweet. I hope you enjoy it.
These will slap the ivory without remorse
As they dance merrily, the smooth tunes fill the air
Lucky
These
Fives
They are lucky
The 7s and minors that sound off
Clear the mind of clutter
The majors march through the gutter or society and lift up heads
Lucky
These
Fives
They are Lucky
Tickling the keys and ******* the As and Bs
They separate the great from the hate
They inspire the blood to pulse
Lucky These Fives, They are Lucky
These, Lucky Fives
Jamie Mar 2019
They weigh me down with each step
And I don't mean physically.
They're small enough I can get away with a sweatshirt and nothing else.
People tell me I'm lucky.
But it's funny because I don't feel lucky,
And when my laugh trips off my tongue and stutters to the floor
between the tips of my sneakers,
I don't feel lucky,
When my thank you's sound hollow like drums in my ears
After someone compliments my style and tells me I should consider
modeling
Because "women with my interesting look" are in high demand,
And I don't want to be in high demand,
I don't feel lucky,
When the man next to me at the bus stop
Scrounges inside for some semblance of modern day chivalry and
accompanies his phrase
"Lady's first"
With a wink
I don't feel lucky,
As a squeeze them,
Twin loathsome mountains of fat on my chest,
Into my binder each morning just so I
Don't have a panic attack as soon as I leave the room,
I don't feel lucky,
Every time I hesitate when I reach the bathroom doors with those
stick figure signs and I have to decide which one I want to BE today
Or be stared at in today,
And ultimately it doesn't matter because I always make sure I'm
alone when I wash my hands,
Lying on my side or my stomach and feeling the weight of that tissue
on my sternum,
I don't feel lucky,
When I walk down the claustrophobic grocery store isles looking for
the right brand of tampons and pads to stop my unwanted ******
from bleeding everywhere
And I flush beet red because I know
Above my head is a neon sign loudly proclaiming that I am shopping
for
"Feminine hygiene products"
And so sometimes I walk out with nothing and
Wake up to red sheets just to feel even worse,
I don't feel lucky,
Each time I release my bonds in the shower,
Washing away whatever dirt that day
may have thrown on my skin,
And I glance down at the scalding water cascading over my sternum,
Along my uneven collarbones,
Between the caverns of my *******,
And I realize even naked I am not myself
Am I ever myself?
I don't feel lucky.
Jogging up stairs or walking quickly to class
And feeling my rib cage strain to get enough oxygen against
The binder I subject it to,
Or massaging my back as best I can as it screams at me
Resisting the tight fabric I have pulled against it all day,
But shedding that binding feels so wrong so
Sometimes I leave it on all night and wake up in the morning and
take Tylenol
So I can function,
I don't feel lucky.
And it makes me sad because I don't want to hate myself
But I don't know how to love myself like this.
AaliyahGisele May 2017
Am I lucky to be alive,
Am I lucky to have a normal life,
Am I lucky to still be this age,
Am I lucky to have a few friends,
Am I lucky to be at home with my real mom,
Am I lucky I still live with my mom,
Am I lucky or not lucky?
Or don't I appreciate nothing?
민혁 Nov 2014
"You're so lucky you're so well-liked."
"Your life seems so easy."

You're so lucky.
You have it so easy.

I've been spending some time to find a way to articulate my discomfort in these two phrases. "You're so lucky, you have it so easy." The reasons are pretty clear, because I don't consider my journey in the least bit easy, but I can see why you would assume that -- after all, you'll always find me being optimistic in person.

When things *were
easy, they were not out of pure luck. I faced adversity with the display of resilience, and stood my ground when I was faced with hardship. I've watched my flowers wilt into weeds despite the nurture I had provided. And while I may be happier now, I was not fed the love and care I had desired from the very beginning. I wasn't always this way.

I don't talk about my past extensively. When I do, they tend to be the memories I've learned to accept and embrace throughout the course of my years. I don't talk about the time in middle school, when I was constantly made fun of for being overweight. I don't talk about the time I starved myself for weeks, thinking it would reduce the load off my stomach and hips. I don't talk about the time when I've been told I was a freak of nature, that I would never become the person I wanted to be. I don't talk about the time when doctors had to pump out the toxin out of my stomach, forcing me to ***** out pills and choke on my bile-washed throat for hours on end.

I don't talk about these things, but that doesn't make my own journey 'easy'. I did not end up to be the way I am now without all of these experiences. If that were the case, then fine. Call me lucky. Call it easy.

Life, in general, is hard. It hasn't been easy, but I've done it, and my purpose in being here today is to show all of you that you are capable. That no matter what's in your way... you can do it, too.

Which leads on to my second point: we live in a society of comparison culture. I've gone through a couple of things throughout the spans of my life, but that, in no shape or form, makes your own life experience trivial. I don't talk about my past very often, and when I do, it's often for someone who is going through something I once dealt with. I wish to leave the past in my memory box, and if it collects dust, I certainly won't mind. Not anymore, because I know now. I've experienced it. I've carried those burdens.

I do not wish to tell any of you the amount of times I've wished to leave this world. I want to tell you the reasons why I want to stay in this world. I do not wish to tell you my dislikes of this world, but my penchants of it.

In other words, what bothers me about the phrase "you have it so easy" is that it is an implied comparison.

My weight loss success was so easy... compared to someone making it out of physical therapy? My grades were easily gained... compared to someone with learning disability? My life was so easy... compared to what?

Every person is different. Every human experience is different. The phrase "you're so lucky that you have it so easy" bothers me so much, because not only does it paint over my struggles, but it emphasizes the flaw that we, as a society, have embedded into our minds. That comparing our lives to someone else and weighing our problems on a scale is the only way to determine our worth.

My friend's grandmother passed away. My other friend's dog just recently passed as well. Both individuals were devastated. I won't simply say, "my friend's feelings are legitimate because it was her grandmother, but my other friend is overreacting over an animal." No, that's not how it works. Sadness is sadness. Pain is pain. Hurt is hurt. One does not weigh any heavier than the other. They both exist on personal spectrums, but one does not hold any more value than the other.

The same applies to happiness. Happiness is constantly compared, which therefore makes all of us less happy. Just like compassion, just like hardship, and just like sadness -- happiness should not be compared, but shared.

I don't want you thinking, "Oh, Minhyuk has it so easy. Minhyuk is so lucky." I want you to wish your life could be as great as you could make it. I hope your life is better than yesterday, and the day before that. And if it isn't, I hope you can get back up on your feet and gather your courage again. I want you to stop wishing for someone else's life and begin to embrace your own. I want you to be able to stand alone in a room, without a single comparison, and know that you are worthy of absolutely everything in this golden world.

We're not lucky.
We don't have it easy.

But what we do now will make things easier, and make us happier. If not now, then in the future.

Because we are all worth it.
nabi 나비 Dec 2016
I'm not lucky
To have people fall for me
And not reciprocate the notion
I don't like hurting others
It's not lucky to be pretty
Because when people whom you call friends
Start liking you
Because of looks or personality
What are you going to do
if you don't feel it too?
I'm not lucky to have people like me
Just because you like them
Does not make me lucky
I don't like them
And I could hurt them
But I don't want to lose a friendship
Because I'm "pretty" and "nice"
It doesn't make me lucky
If people like me
It doesn't make me lucky
If I'm pretty
It doesn't make me lucky
To have something that you don't
howard brace Feb 2012
Inconspicuous, his presence noted only by the obscurity and the ever growing number of spent cigarette stubs that littered the ground.  It had been a long day and the rain, relentless in its tenacity had little intention of stopping, baleful clouds still  hung heavy, dominating the lateness of the afternoon sky, a rain laden skyline broken only by smoke filled chimney pots and the tangled snarl of corroded television aerials.

     The once busy street was fast emptying now, the lure of shop windows no longer enticed the casual browser as local traders closed their premises to the oncoming night, solitary lampposts curved hazily into the distance, casting little more than insipid pools mirrored in the gutter below, only the occasional stranger scurrying home on a bleak, rain swept afternoon, the hurried slap of wet leather soles on the pavement, the sightless umbrellas, the infrequent rumble of a half filled bus, hell-bent on its way to oblivion.

     In the near distance as the working day ended, a sudden emergence of factory workers told Beamish it was 5-o'clock, most would be hurrying home to a hot meal, while others, for a quick drink perhaps before making the same old sorry excuse... for Jack, the greasy spoon would be closing about now, denying him the comfort of a badly needed cuppa' and stale cheese sandwich.  A subtle legacy of lunchtime fish and chips still lingered in the air, Jack's stomach rumbled, there was little chance of a fish supper for Beamish tonight, it protested again... louder.

     From beneath the eaves of the building opposite several pigeons broke cover, startled by the rattle as a shopkeeper struggled to close the canvas awning above his shop window.  Narrowly missing Beamish they flew anxiously over the rooftops, memories of the blitz sprang to mind as Jack stepped smartly to one side, he stamped his feet... it dashed a little of the weather from his raincoat, just as the rain dashed a little of the pigeons' anxiety from the pavement... the day couldn't get much worse if it tried.  Shielding his face, Jack struck the Ronson one more time and cupped the freshly lit cigarette between his hands, it was the only source of heat to be had that day... and still it rained.

     'By Appointment to Certain Personages...' the letter heading rang out loudly... 'Jack Beamish ~ Private Investigator...' a throat choking mouthful by any stretch of the imagination, thought Jack and shot every vestige of credulity plummeting straight through the office window and amidst a fanfare of trumpet voluntary, nominate itself for a prodigious award in the New Year Honours list.   Having formally served in a professional capacity for a well known purveyor of pickled condiments, who  incidentally, brandished the same patronage emblazoned upon their extensive range of relish as the one Jack had more recently purloined from them... a paid commission no less, which by Jack's certain understanding had made him, albeit fleeting in nature, a professional consultant of said company... and consequently, if they could flaunt the auspicious emblem, then according to Jack's infallible logic, so could Jack.  

     The recently appropriated letterhead possessed certain distinction... in much the same way, Jack reasoned, that a blank piece of paper did not... and whereas correspondence bearing the heading 'By Appointment' may not exactly strike terror into the hearts of man... unlike a really strong pickled onion, it nevertheless made people think twice before playing him for the fool, which sadly, Jack had to concede, they still invariably did... and he would often catch them wagging an accusing finger or two in his direction with such platitudes as... "watch where you put your foot", they'd whisper, "that Jack's a right Shamus...", and when you'd misplaced your footing as many times as Jack had, then he reasoned, that by default the celebrated Shamus must have landed himself in more piles of indiscretion than he would readily care to admit, but that wouldn't be quite accurate either, in Jack's line of work it was the malefactor that actually dropped him in them more often than not.

     A cold shiver suddenly ran down his spine, another quickly followed as a spurt of icy water from a broken rain spout spattered across the back of his neck, he grimaced... Jack's expression spoke volumes as he took one final pull from his half soaked cigarette and flicked it, amid an eruption of sparks against the adjacent brick wall.  Sinking further into the shadow he tipped his fedora against the oncoming rain, then, digging both hands deep within his pockets, he huddled behind the upturned collar of his gabardine... watching.

     It was times such as these when Jack's mind would slip back, in much the same way you might slip back on a discarded banana peel, when a matter of some consequence, or in particular this case the pavement, would suddenly leap up from behind and give the back of Jack's head a resoundingly good slapping and tell him to "stop loafing around in office hours... or else", then drag him, albeit kicking and screaming back into the 20th century.  This intellectual assault and battery re-focused Jack's mind wonderfully as he whiled away the long weary hours until his next cigarette; cup of tea, or the last bus home, his capacity to endure such mind boggling tedium called for nothing less than sheer ******-mindedness and very little else... Beamish had long suspected that he possessed all the necessary qualifications.  

     Jack had come a long way since the early days, it had been a long haul but he'd finally arrived there in the end... and managed to pick up quite a few ***** looks along the way.  Whilst he was with the Police Constabulary... and it was only fair to stress the word 'with', as opposed to the word 'in'... although the more Jack considered, he had been 'with' the arresting officer, held 'in' the local Bridewell... detained at Her Majesties pleasure while assisting the boys in blue with their enquiries over a minor infringement of some local by-law that currently had quite slipped his mind at that moment.  Throughout this enforced leisure period he'd managed to read the entire abridged editions of Kilroy and other expansive works of graffiti exhibited in what passed locally as the next best thing to the Tate Gallery, whereupon it hadn't taken Jack very long to realise that it was always a good place to start if you wanted free breakfast, in fact the weeks bill of fare was tastefully displayed in vivid, polychromatic colour on the wall opposite... you just had to be au-fait with braille.
                            
     No matter how industrious Beamish laboured to rake the dirt there always appeared to be a dire shortage of gullible clients for Jack to squeeze, what would roughly translate as an honest crust out of, and although his financial retainer was highly competitive he understood that potential clients found it bewildering when grappling with the unplumbed depths of his monthly expense account, which would tend to fluctuate with the same unpredictability as the British weather, the rest of Jack's agenda revolved around a little shady moonlighting... in fact he'd happily consider anything to offset the remotest possibility of financial delinquency... short of extortion... which by the strangest twist was the very word prospective clients would cry while Jack beavered around the office with dust-pan and brush sweeping any concerns they may have had frantically under the carpet regarding all culpability of his extra-curricular monthly stipend... and they should remain assured at all times... as they dug deep and fished for their cheque books, and simply look upon it as kneading dough, which eerily enough was exactly the thick wedge of buttered granary that Jack had every intention of carving.

     Were there ever the slightest possibility that a day could be so utterly wretched, then today was that day, Jack felt a certain empathy as he merged with his surroundings... at one with nature as it were.  The rain, a timpani on the metal dustbin lids, by the side of which Beamish had taken up vigil, also taking up vigil and in search of a morsel was the stray mongrel, this was the third time now that he'd returned, the same apprehensive wag, yet still the same hopeful look of expectation in his eyes, a brief but friendly companion who paid more attention to Jack's left trouser leg than anything that could be had from nosing around the dustbins that day... some days you're the dog, scowled Beamish as he shook his trouser leg... and some days the lamppost, Jack's foot swung out playfully, keeping his new friend's incontinence at a safe distance, feigning indignance  the scruffy mongrel shook himself defiantly from nose to tail, a distinct odour of wet dog filled the air as an abundance of spent rainwater flew in all directions.   Pricking one ear he looked accusingly at Jack before turning and snuffled off, his nose resolutely to the pavement and diligently, picking out the few diluted scents still remaining, the poor little stalwart renewed its search for scraps, or making his way perhaps to some dry seclusion known only to itself.
  
     Two hours later and... SPLOSH, a puddle poured itself through the front door of the nearest Public House... SPLOSH, the puddle squelched over to the payphone... SPLOSH, then, fumbling for small change dialled and pressed button 'A'..., then button 'B'... then started all over again amid a flurry of precipitation... SPLASH.  The puddle floundered to the bar and ordered itself a drink, then ebbed back to the payphone again... the local taxi company doggedly refused to answer... finally, wallowing over to the window the puddle drifted up against a warm radiator amidst a cloud of humidity and came to rest... flotsam, cast upon the shore of contentment, the puddle sighed contentedly... the Landlady watched this anomaly... suspiciously.

     The puddle's finely tuned perception soon got to grips with the unhurried banter and muffled gossip drifting along the bar, having little else to loose, other than what could still be wrung from his clothing... Beamish, working on the principle that a little eavesdropping was his stock-in-trade engaged instinct into overdrive and casually rippled in their general direction...  They were clearly regulars by the way one of them belched in a well rehearsed, taken-a-back sort of way as Jack took stock of the situation and was now at some pains to ingratiate himself into their exclusive midst and attempt several friendly, yet relevant questions pertinent to his enquiries... all of which were skillfully deflected with more than friendly, yet totally irrelevant answers pertinent to theirs'... and would Jack care for a game of dominoes', they enquired... if so, would he be good enough to pay the refundable deposit, as by common consent it just so happened to be his turn...  Jack graciously declined this generous offer, as the obliging Landlady, just as graciously, cancelled the one shilling returnable deposit from the cash register, such was the flow of light conversation that evening... they didn't call him Lucky Jack for nothing... discouraged, Beamish turned back to the bar and reached for his glass... to which one of his recent companions, and yet again just as graciously, had taken the trouble to drink for him... the Landlady gave Jack a knowing look, Beamish returned the heartfelt sentiment and ordered one more pint.

     From the licenced premises opposite, a myriad of jostling customers plied through the door, business was picking up... the sudden influx of punters rapidly persuaded Beamish to retire from the bar and find a vacant table.  Sitting, he removed several discarded crisp packets from the centre of the table only to discover a freshly vacated ashtray below... by sleight of hand Jack's Ronson appeared... as he lit the cigarette the fragile smoke curled blue as it rose... influenced by subtle caprice, it joined others and formed a horizontal curtain dividing the room, a delicate, undulating layer held between two conflicting forces.

     The possibility of a free drink soon attracted the attention of a local bar fly, who, hovering in the near vicinity promptly landed in Jack's beer, Beamish declined this generous offer as being far too nutritious and with the corner of yesterdays beer mat, flipped the offending organism from the top of his glass, carefully inspecting his drink for debris as he did so.

     A sudden draught and clip of stiletto heels as the side door opened caused Beamish to turn as a double shadow slipped discreetly into the friendly Snug... a little adulterous intimacy on an otherwise cheerless evening.  The faceless man, concealed beneath a fedora and the upturned collar of his overcoat, the surreptitious lady friend, decked out in damp cony, cheap perfume and a surfeit of bling proclaimed a not too infrequent assignation, he'd seen it all before... the over attentive manner and the band of white, Sun-starved skin recently hidden behind a now absent wedding token, ordinarily it was the sort of assignment Jack didn't much care for... the discreet tail, the candid snapshot through half drawn curtains... and the all too familiar steak tartare... for the all too familiar black eye.

     To the untrained eye, the prospect of Jack's long anticipated supper was rapidly dwindling, when it suddenly focused with renewed vigour upon the contents of a pickled egg jar he'd observed earlier that evening, lurking on the back counter, his enthusiasm swiftly diminished however as the belching customer procured the final two specimens from the jar and proceeded to demolish them.  Who, Jack reflected, after being stood out in the rain all day, had egg all over his face now... and who, he reflected deeper, still had an empty stomach.  Disillusioned, Jack tipped back his glass and considered a further sortie with the taxicab company.

     "FIVE-BOB"!!! Jack screamed... you could have shredded the air with a cheese grater... hurtling into the kerb like a fairground attraction came flying past the chequered flag at a record breaking 99 in Jack's top 100 most not wanted list of things to do that day... and that the cabby should think himself fortunate they weren't both stretched flat on a marble slab, "exploding tyres" Jack spluttered, dribbling down his chin, were enough to give anyone a coronary... further broadsides of neurotic ambiance filled the cab as the driver, miffed at the prospect of missing snooker night out with the lads, considered charging extra for the additional space Jack's profanity was taking...

     And what part of 'Drive-Carefully', fumed Beamish, did the cabby simply not understand, that pavements were there to be bypassed, 'Nay Circumvented', preferably on the left... and not veered into, wildly on the front axle... an eerie premonition of 'jemais-vu' perched and ready to strike like a disembodied Jiminy Cricket on Jack's left shoulder, looking to stick its own two-penny worth in at the 'Standing-Room-Only' arrangements in the overcrowded cab... and at what further point, Jack shrieked, eyes leaping from his head as he lurched forward, shaking his fist through the sliding glass partition, had the cabbie failed to grasp the importance of the word 'Steering-Wheel...' someone wanted horse whipping, and as far as Beamish was concerned the sole contender was the cab driver...

     In having a somewhat sedate and unruffled disposition it had fallen to Beamish... as befalls all great leaders in times of adversity, to single handedly take the bull by the horns, so to speak and at great personal cost, alert the unwary passing motorist...  Waving his arms about like a man possessed whilst performing acrobatic evolutions in the centre of the road as the cabby changed the wheel came whizzing around the corner at a back breaking 98 on Jack's ever growing list... and why, Jack puzzled, why had they all lowered their side windows and gestured back at him in semaphore..?  Rallying to its aid, Jack's head and shoulders now joined his shaking fist through the sliding glass partition and into the cabby's face, "Who" Beamish screeched with renewed vigour ,"Who Was The Man", Jack wanted to know... *"a
Paul Celano Jun 2010
I believe I got lucky

Lucky to find such a glowing treasure
Lucky to have found pure happiness
Lucky to feel such wonderful pleasure
Lucky to feel the warmth closeness

Lucky to have seen such a beautiful sight
Lucky to feel the intense love
Lucky to be able to sleep a very long night
Lucky to have found my holy white dove

Yes I believe I got luck
When I found her
©2003 Paul Celano
Posted 2010
I’m not lucky, I’m blessed.
I don’t know about you.

Don’t call me lucky,
call me blessed.  There’s
a difference between the two.

Luck comes around from
time to time.

Blessings are there every day.
They’re staring you right
in the face.

Luck is something people
seek to find.

Blessings automatically
come your way.

Luck is something that
happens by chance.

Blessings are God’s works.
They’re a part of his plan.

Blessings are things that you
carry with you.  They’re there
every single day.

Lucky is something that comes
along, but then it goes away.

Blessings are things that
are permanent.

Luck is something that
is temporary.

Blessings are things which
are heaven sent.

Luck you can’t count
on.  Luck you can’t depend on.
Unlike blessings, which you
know they will always be
there.  You never need worry.

Luck is something you anticipate,
something which you wait for it
to come around.

Blessings are things that are
automatically there.  Every day
of your life they can be found.

Luck is basically good fortune
that happens from time to time.

Blessings are things you are
faced with every day.  You
carry them with you for
a lifetime.

Luck is something you consider
to be good that happens
unexpectedly.  It may come
around at a time of need.

But what you consider to be
good luck, events can happen
to cause you to see it is just
opposite.  It may turn out to
be that what you find to be
good luck, isn’t always what
it seems.

Blessings are that which is
sent from God.  They are not
disguised.

Blessings are brought to the
light where you clearly seem them.
They do not hide.

Blessings that are sent from
God, they do not lie.

Blessings are something you
can believe, something you
can have confidence in.

You carry them with you
from the moment your life
starts, up until your life on
earth comes to an end.

You shall carry them with you
even after death, should you
make it to heaven.

I’m not lucky, I’m blessed.
There’s as difference between
the two.

I don’t consider myself lucky.
I consider myself blessed.
I can only speak for myself.
I can’t speak for you.

I’m not lucky, I’m blessed.
That’s all I have to say.

Don’t call me lucky, call
me blessed.  God is the way.

It’s not luck but God, who
wakes me every day.

It isn’t luck but God, who
gives me eyes to see the way.

It isn’t luck but God, who
gives me a voice and mouth
so that I may talk.

It isn’t luck but God, who
gave me legs and feet so that
I may walk.

It isn’t luck but God, who
gave me hands so that I
may touch.

It isn’t luck but God,
who does so much.

It isn’t luck but God, who
gives me everything I need.

It isn’t luck, it’s God.
I say it unashamed.
I say it proudly.

It isn’t luck, it’s God,
who gave me a brain for
thinking.

It wasn’t luck, it was God,
who gave me a heart which
keeps me breathing, keeps
me living.

I’m not lucky, I’m blessed,
in so many ways.

Don’t call me lucky,
call me blessed.
That’s all I have to say.

I’ll leave you with that
thought and I’ll go about
my way.
DAVID Dec 2014
Y can feel the cold wind
the moon is high , the lion inside
crawls , the helmet stop the metamorfosis
mi tooths are sharp my roar is crawling to
my throat .

in the night , think in licans , mi hearts is with them
mis claws are poping out , the lion is out ,
and y feel pity for the little creep .

mi head is booming and i can't stop , the roar
is stock in my throat , it comes out , is not a howl ,
is not a cry , is the lion in my guts asking for a way out ,
his claws , are my claws his teeths are mine ,

y think in the beauty , and her beasty **** eyes ,
a roar comes out , the bikes speed up , thinking in
gonzo  ,  running his bike ,  touring his lican ,
avoiding the **** , a claim for mercy for the
mortal , while the beast crawls for the skin .

suddenly the beast is out , everything around you sounds
different, night is yours , the claws are out ,
feeling pity and a rush , loews night , the effect is cool .
you keep speeding up , you feel the rage , making your roar ,
put fith , 120 km. are enough , hopefully .


you speed up , the bike don't go faster , the rage is booming
the eco in your head , claims for the blood of fresh **** .
the full moon talks your language the city is your hunting ground ,
thinking in lestat ,  hearing bach under a howling moon  , the claws get to your gloves popping out, full moon again son , carefull says lestat voice .



but the full moon talks your language  ,  she talks to your lion ,
she says in his ears , feed lion feed , take your paws , use the fangs
the city is your hunting ground , the lion is out your eyes are red
the beast took your heart , think in dogs , licans are lucky they have their clans , youre alone  ,  the city is ******* yours to take , the lion's walks alone .


think in nat geo , hoping they show some fresh **** ,
hoping for a lions feast , eating , with ****** faces , and a full
mouth , thinking in
mi lyonnesse . feeling ***** , the beast is out ,
cant stop , looking people like prays , in your hunting
ground ... every one is a pray  , looking for a child molester ,
for an assassin , there's no crime in killing creeps , the lion
makes excuses , for the **** , moon is up , you wait for a while
then speed up , and again thinking in the little creep . you scream impotent , it was your right , little beasty knows , he was lucky  , now they know how lucky they ***** , claws come back in . your  lucky to be live .

the moon is gone the lion is in , waiting to crawl back out , thinking in the running , in the heart of a creep , the feast of eating his creepy little heart , gas is enough , y will make it to the  cave , thinking in beautiful
lionesses , naked lionesses , their skin their softness , thinking in the
beauty that loves you but is too scared to face the music in her chicken **** heart , good tastes  too many wrongs , she  cant handle it .



the lion crawl back in ,  the helmet deed his job and protect mi head ,
the blood taste in my mouth , feels good , the fang is always out , like
a remainder ,  a message to your face , be cool , the bike brakes in the red light , you look the little creep , crawling to you , you see his dog out , he smells you , the roar scares him , his creepy yellow eyes , but he knows better .


the hummingbird of the morning sings , talking to the sun , mi eyes are hurting me . the night was good no one died , only the lion ,  rest in peace , very deep inside my chest .
the blood moon wakes you up , think in the coliseum ,the  loews feasts
the killings , the blood , the roman ladies , in the streets no one , looks at you , beneath the monet sykes , everyone , walks with the certainty , for their  own certainties , the blood moon wakes every cell in my body the lion claims for a way out , y only see prays , in a ****** red moon .
    


the house is quiet , my teeths are in , y bite my lips ,
take the shorts  up for a run  , throwing all the rage , in the ****** moon the creeps knows better ,  but still , thinking in the cowardness of being inside , having a creep , inside a ****** closet with 80 years old , pitty is an excuse , he knows better deep in his creepy little heart knowing he was ,  only a lucky little rat .


the feast in natgeo , is cool thinking in the creepy enemy , getting eaten alive by hyenas , eaten to the bone , screaming for mercy , thats  happy
or wishful thinking , oh the beast is there ,  yet , deep down you know that is there , waiting  , looking the prays , but that is the secret , that everyone have  it , only few knows it , and control it , as y do
screaming and roaring beneath the ****** moon .



now i'm calm waiting for a day sleep , having the certainty that my beast is controlled , and the blood feast , are just my wishful thinking .
in the nigth ride , think in blake , tiger tiger in the night .
why your eyes shine so bright , that's my line , your eyes shine , the night is your day , the creep is everywhere , here i am  scream some creep defender , thanks the lord , for your life , and dont scream at me defending that crap . the lion talks to people , don't defend **** ,
luckily i'm used to hold on and hold back , in the ****** night , someone says here we are ,  y say , so what , nothing works for you ,
, whats the point , of being there , illogical and creepy , think again your lucky to be alive . y hear knives out by radiohead and  y think in destroy that creepy evil little rat , that almost destroy mi life , and y say to the rat your ******* lucky to be alive .

       c'est tout, je adore.
temporary not finished , lack of sleep , ***** and beneath that same ****** moon ,
Valerie Feb 2011
Maybe I'll get lucky
And be remembered years from now
For something amazing
Something that makes one say "Wow."

Maybe I'll get lucky
And win the lottery
Buy a big house
Or go live anywhere I wanna be.

Maybe I'll get lucky
And find the perfect someone
To make me really happy
And fill my life with fun.

But I'm all ready lucky
I'll be remembered in a way
By everyone who loves me
And the things I have to say.

I'm all ready lucky
I'm richer than I can boast
Not including money
But in what counts the most.

And I'm all ready lucky
I've found the perfect man
Who makes me more than happy
And who can fit in to my plan.

So I'm the luckiest person in the world
At least in my sight
And that's all that really matters,
Right?
SSK <3  AKA: Valerie Garcia
Overwhelmed Mar 2013
you’re lucky, kid,
pretty lucky,
too lucky,
remember that,
kid.

you’re lucky
that nothing has ******* up too bad,
and that you born into a whole freaking lot,
and that even though some ****** things have happened
(what with Christina and the depression and the cancer)
that you’re still not bitter about them.

maybe it’s that you know
how lucky you are,
or maybe you’re just smart enough
to enjoy good things when they
happen.

either way,
you’re luckier than most.

you’ve had love,
from the day you were born to just moments ago,
and you’ve seen the world and all of its beauty,
and more than anything you appreciate it all,
at least to some degree.

but you’ll get greedy, kid,
start thinking you deserve the sunshine
and blue sky and other simple pleasures,

but nobody does, kid,
the human race traded in for that long ago,

we wanted more, and we got it,
but we’ll never be clean of what
we had to do to get it.

so be happy, kid, be happy,
because you are
lucky.

you’re luckier than most
and your luck isn’t going
to stop soon, hopefully.

stay smart
stay alert
stay focused

don’t let this
go to waste.
Cass was the youngest and most beautiful of 5 sisters. Cass was the most beautiful girl
in town. 1/2 Indian with a supple and strange body, a snake-like and fiery body with eyes
to go with it. Cass was fluid moving fire. She was like a spirit stuck into a form that
would not hold her. Her hair was black and long and silken and whirled about as did her
body. Her spirit was either very high or very low. There was no in between for Cass. Some
said she was crazy. The dull ones said that. The dull ones would never understand Cass. To
the men she was simply a *** machine and they didn't care whether she was crazy or not.
And Cass danced and flirted, kissed the men, but except for an instance or two, when it
came time to make it with Cass, Cass had somehow slipped away, eluded the men.
Her sisters accused her of misusing her beauty, of not using her mind enough, but Cass
had mind and spirit; she painted, she danced, she sang, she made things of clay, and when
people were hurt either in the spirit or the flesh, Cass felt a deep grieving for them.
Her mind was simply different; her mind was simply not practical. Her sisters were jealous
of her because she attracted their men, and they were angry because they felt she didn't
make the best use of them. She had a habit of being kind to the uglier ones; the so-called
handsome men revolted her- "No guts," she said, "no zap. They are riding on
their perfect little earlobes and well- shaped nostrils...all surface and no
insides..." She had a temper that came close to insanity, she had a temper that some
call insanity. Her father had died of alcohol and her mother had run off leaving the
girls alone. The girls went to a relative who placed them in a convent. The convent had
been an unhappy place, more for Cass than the sisters. The girls were jealous of Cass and
Cass fought most of them. She had razor marks all along her left arm from defending
herself in two fights. There was also a permanent scar along the left cheek but the scar
rather than lessening her beauty only seemed to highlight it. I met her at the West End
Bar several nights after her release from the convent. Being youngest, she was the last of
the sisters to be released. She simply came in and sat next to me. I was probably the
ugliest man in town and this might have had something to do with it.
"Drink?" I asked.
"Sure, why not?"
I don't suppose there was anything unusual in our conversation that night, it was
simply in the feeling Cass gave. She had chosen me and it was as simple as that. No
pressure. She liked her drinks and had a great number of them. She didn't seem quite of
age but they served he anyhow. Perhaps she had forged i.d., I don't know. Anyhow, each
time she came back from the restroom and sat down next to me, I did feel some pride. She
was not only the most beautiful woman in town but also one of the most beautiful I had
ever seen. I placed my arm about her waist and kissed her once.
"Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked.
"Yes, of course, but there's something else... there's more than your
looks..."
"People are always accusing me of being pretty. Do you really think I'm
pretty?"
"Pretty isn't the word, it hardly does you fair."
Cass reached into her handbag. I thought she was reaching for her handkerchief. She
came out with a long hatpin. Before I could stop her she had run this long hatpin through
her nose, sideways, just above the nostrils. I felt disgust and horror. She looked at me
and laughed, "Now do you think me pretty? What do you think now, man?" I pulled
the hatpin out and held my handkerchief over the bleeding. Several people, including the
bartender, had seen the act. The bartender came down:
"Look," he said to Cass, "you act up again and you're out. We don't need
your dramatics here."
"Oh, *******, man!" she said.
"Better keep her straight," the bartender said to me.
"She'll be all right," I said.
"It's my nose, I can do what I want with my nose."
"No," I said, "it hurts me."
"You mean it hurts you when I stick a pin in my nose?"
"Yes, it does, I mean it."
"All right, I won't do it again. Cheer up."
She kissed me, rather grinning through the kiss and holding the handkerchief to her
nose. We left for my place at closing time. I had some beer and we sat there talking. It
was then that I got the perception of her as a person full of kindness and caring. She
gave herself away without knowing it. At the same time she would leap back into areas of
wildness and incoherence. Schitzi. A beautiful and spiritual schitzi. Perhaps some man,
something, would ruin her forever. I hoped that it wouldn't be me. We went to bed and
after I turned out the lights Cass asked me,
"When do you want it? Now or in the morning?"
"In the morning," I said and turned my back.
In the morning I got up and made a couple of coffees, brought her one in bed. She
laughed.
"You're the first man who has turned it down at night."
"It's o.k.," I said, "we needn't do it at all."
"No, wait, I want to now. Let me freshen up a bit."
Cass went into the bathroom. She came out shortly, looking quite wonderful, her long
black hair glistening, her eyes and lips glistening, her glistening... She displayed her
body calmly, as a good thing. She got under the sheet.
"Come on, lover man."
I got in. She kissed with abandon but without haste. I let my hands run over her body,
through her hair. I mounted. It was hot, and tight. I began to stroke slowly, wanting to
make it last. Her eyes looked directly into mine.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"What the hell difference does it make?" she asked.
I laughed and went on ahead. Afterwards she dressed and I drove her back to the bar but
she was difficult to forget. I wasn't working and I slept until 2 p.m. then got up and
read the paper. I was in the bathtub when she came in with a large leaf- an elephant ear.
"I knew you'd be in the bathtub," she said, "so I brought you something
to cover that thing with, nature boy."
She threw the elephant leaf down on me in the bathtub.
"How did you know I'd be in the tub?"
"I knew."
Almost every day Cass arrived when I was in the tub. The times were different but she
seldom missed, and there was the elephant leaf. And then we'd make love. One or two nights
she phoned and I had to bail her out of jail for drunkenness and fighting.
"These sons of *******," she said, "just because they buy you a few
drinks they think they can get into your pants."
"Once you accept a drink you create your own trouble."
"I thought they were interested in me, not just my body."
"I'm interested in you and your body. I doubt, though, that most men can see
beyond your body."
I left town for 6 months, bummed around, came back. I had never forgotten Cass, but
we'd had some type of argument and I felt like moving anyhow, and when I got back i
figured she'd be gone, but I had been sitting in the West End Bar about 30 minutes when
she walked in and sat down next to me.
"Well, *******, I see you've come back."
I ordered her a drink. Then I looked at her. She had on a high- necked dress. I had
never seen her in one of those. And under each eye, driven in, were 2 pins with glass
heads. All you could see were the heads of the pins, but the pins were driven down into
her face.
"******* you, still trying to destroy your beauty, eh?"
"No, it's the fad, you fool."
"You're crazy."
"I've missed you," she said.
"Is there anybody else?"
"No there isn't anybody else. Just you. But I'm hustling. It costs ten bucks. But
you get it free."
"Pull those pins out."
"No, it's the fad."
"It's making me very unhappy."
"Are you sure?"
"Hell yes, I'm sure."
Cass slowly pulled the pins out and put them back in her purse.
"Why do you haggle your beauty?" I asked. "Why don't you just live with
it?"
"Because people think it's all I have. Beauty is nothing, beauty won't stay. You
don't know how lucky you are to be ugly, because if people like you you know it's for
something else."
"O.k.," I said, "I'm lucky."
"I don't mean you're ugly. People just think you're ugly. You have a fascinating
face."
"Thanks."
We had another drink.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Nothing. I can't get on to anything. No interest."
"Me neither. If you were a woman you could hustle."
"I don't think I could ever make contact with that many strangers, it's
wearing."
"You're right, it's wearing, everything is wearing."
We left together. People still stared at Cass on the streets. She was a beautiful
woman, perhaps more beautiful than ever. We made it to my place and I opened a bottle of
wine and we talked. With Cass and I, it always came easy. She talked a while and I would
listen and then i would talk. Our conversation simply went along without strain. We seemed
to discover secrets together. When we discovered a good one Cass would laugh that laugh-
only the way she could. It was like joy out of fire. Through the talking we kissed and
moved closer together. We became quite heated and decided to go to bed. It was then that
Cass took off her high -necked dress and I saw it- the ugly jagged scar across her throat.
It was large and thick.
"******* you, woman," I said from the bed, "******* you, what have you
done?
"I tried it with a broken bottle one night. Don't you like me any more? Am I still
beautiful?"
I pulled her down on the bed and kissed her. She pushed away and laughed, "Some
men pay me ten and I undress and they don't want to do it. I keep the ten. It's very
funny."
"Yes," I said, "I can't stop laughing... Cass, *****, I love you...stop
destroying yourself; you're the most alive woman I've ever met."
We kissed again. Cass was crying without sound. I could feel the tears. The long black
hair lay beside me like a flag of death. We enjoined and made slow and somber and
wonderful love. In the morning Cass was up making breakfast. She seemed quite calm and
happy. She was singing. I stayed in bed and enjoyed her happiness. Finally she came over
and shook me,
"Up, *******! Throw some cold water on your face and pecker and come enjoy the
feast!"
I drove her to the beach that day. It was a weekday and not yet summer so things were
splendidly deserted. Beach bums in rags slept on the lawns above the sand. Others sat on
stone benches sharing a lone bottle. The gulls whirled about, mindless yet distracted. Old
ladies in their 70's and 80's sat on the benches and discussed selling real estate left
behind by husbands long ago killed by the pace and stupidity of survival. For it all,
there was peace in the air and we walked about and stretched on the lawns and didn't say
much. It simply felt good being together. I bought a couple of sandwiches, some chips and
drinks and we sat on the sand eating. Then I held Cass and we slept together about an
hour. It was somehow better than *******. There was flowing together without tension.
When we awakened we drove back to my place and I cooked a dinner. After dinner I suggested
to Cass that we shack together. She waited a long time, looking at me, then she slowly
said, "No." I drove her back to the bar, bought her a drink and walked out. I
found a job as a parker in a factory the next day and the rest of the week went to
working. I was too tired to get about much but that Friday night I did get to the West End
Bar. I sat and waited for Cass. Hours went by . After I was fairly drunk the bartender
said to me, "I'm sorry about your girlfriend."
"What is it?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, didn't you know?"
"No."
"Suicide. She was buried yesterday."
"Buried?" I asked. It seemed as though she would walk through the doorway at
any moment. How could she be gone?
"Her sisters buried her."
"A suicide? Mind telling me how?"
"She cut her throat."
"I see. Give me another drink."
I drank until closing time. Cass was the most beautiful of 5 sisters, the most
beautiful in town. I managed to drive to my place and I kept thinking, I should have
insisted she stay with me instead of accepting that "no." Everything about her
had indicated that she had cared. I simply had been too offhand about it, lazy, too
unconcerned. I deserved my death and hers. I was a dog. No, why blame the dogs? I got up
and found a bottle of wine and drank from it heavily. Cass the most beautiful girl in town
was dead at 20. Outside somebody honked their automobile horn. They were very loud and
persistent. I sat the bottle down and screamed out: "******* YOU, YOU *******
,SHUT UP!" The night kept coming and there was nothing I could do.
Amy Misera Oct 2011
Her high school experience was a dream
He got into every college he applied to
They have lead wonderful lives  
I have hit some road bumps, but I'm the lucky one

She has got a good job
He got grad school paid for
Their love is invincible
I've got nothing, yet I'm the lucky one

She has an amazing boyfriend
he's got the greatest friends in the world
They have each other
Its just me, yet I'm the lucky one

they have both left, they are living on their own, and doing well
Im still at home with mom and dad, with their rules
yet I'm the lucky one

Life has sent me on a roller coaster, I don't like roller coasters
Finding true friends, is like finding a four leaf clover, I've never been to good at that
through all this, Im still the lucky one

How can this be possible,
The reason is in the reason I'm not. The luck is not because of experience, its not the past, or the future.  
My family, my friends, the memories, the love
this is the explanation.
All of these things, Make me the Lucky one.
Luck

Some say a rainbow is lucky, but I am not sure if that’s so
Some say the number seven is lucky, but me, well I really don’t know
I once met a dog, and his name was “lucky” but he only had him three legs
Is that so unlucky? I only have two and ill still be walking for days.
Theres lucky charms, and bad lucky black cats
And Lucy, she lives down the block
Shes really quite pretty, and I might get lucky
If with these two legs I could talk
You see im quite un lucky, as you well know
For I was born without  tongue, and the tinyest mouth
and I cannot talk with lovely lucky Lucy
So here in my lawnchair Ill pout.
jeffrey conyers Oct 2015
Happy go lucky girl.
Happy go lucky girl.
Never ever sad.
Never ever sad.

To be in her present made you feel safe.
She always has a smile of warmth upon her face.
.
Plus, a positive mood.
That just grew upon you.

If , she was ever down.
It never showed.
Similar to clown that you might see at the circus.

She's just..
A happy go lucky girl.
Happy go lucky girl.
Never ever blue.
Never ever blue.
Least you never knew.

She lived in a world of only charm.
Believe in a world that existed with no harm.
If you ever was a few that knew her closely.
Even you would agree, she's a happy go lucky girl.
nivek May 2016
lucky numbers change all the time
some of them you do not even realise
as being lucky.

Each birthday is lucky
a celebration of your lucky birth

your lucky conception
lucky *****
lucky egg.
Purcy Flaherty Apr 2019
I got a penny in my pocket,
a cricket in a box,
a ladybird,
a dragon fly,
a little silver fox,
I got a key,
a golden eye,
a pie up in the sky;
I've got so many lucky things;
Oh! these lucky things of mine!
I'll cross my fingers,
Hold my breath,
pull the petals one by one
I'll gaze into my lucky bag;
and marvel at the lucky ones.
shooting stars and moon lit skies are dazzling to my eyes.
But I treasure all these luck things;
Oh! these lucky things of mine!
Now make a wish
and count to ten
then turn three times and say again!
"I'm a silly superstitious ****!"
Yes I'm a silly superstitious ****!
putting faith into the  silliest things
Paul Butters Nov 2016
I say again
That from my perspective
When I Die
The whole World will cease to Exist
Including You.
And it will be the same for you
When you go too.

So we are Lucky now
Having the Internet
To speed our Education,
Bringing knowledge and experience to us
As our mobility declines.

It’s as though Someone has catered for our needs,
Ensuring we Learn as much as we can
Before we go.

Lucky too we are to have our radio and TV.
And some of us are lucky enough
To live in relative Safety.

Some day, if we are lucky, we might even learn
What all this Learning’s for.
Someone may even let us know.

Paul Butters
Early this morning I had a bizarre, vivid, scary dream. When I woke, poetic thoughts appeared...
Laken Cooper Apr 2015
You are lucky,* because you have your parents with you,
some kid out there are longing for their parent's hug, kiss, comfort
which unfortunately they can't have

You are lucky, because you are surrounded by good friends around you,
Have you ever experienced having no one beside you?
having fake people around you,
who claims themselves as the true one but their only purpose is to put you down?

You are lucky, because you can move and see things freely,
How about the people who are uncapable of doing that?
blind* people who can't see the beauty that God has given us,
deaf people who can't express their feelings and so on

You are lucky, because you are given a chance to learn everything,
Poverty hits us, the main thing that is affected is education
Many people wants to learn and you are lucky that you've been given a chance to be one of them

Do you ever think how lucky you are?
But why are we not contented?
Instead of being thankful,
Why do people always crave for something more?

*"Craving is suffering."
We all are lucky, we must appreciate it.
Virginia Riviara May 2016
How sweet are the lilies she grips in her hands
As white as her dress in the moonlight
Yet she inhales harshly through her withering lungs
She gazes towards the sky with tearing eyes
The cold emptiness burning inside her chest
She whispers the words under her breath
"One day I will be the lucky one"
"One day I will be the lucky one"
"One day I will be the lucky one"
The words float to the sky
The lilies turn red
She has no control over her head
She drops to the ground and the grass becomes her bed
Staring at the moon she crys once more
"One day I will be the lucky one"
Hoping with all her might that it will come true
And her life was taken too soon
By the knife they call depression
The bullet they call sorrow
The rope they call lonliness
And if your heart is beating
Then you are the lucky one
Because most of us are bleeding from self-destruction
Lorenzo Soldera Apr 2014
Lucky?
You think I am lucky? I am many things
(I presume)
Lucky is not one of them.
I am hungry.
Very hungry.
My stomach’s longing whimpers are replaced by accusatory screams
From within the same starving sac as soon as I look at food –  
These days my body rejects everything I consume
Except for the pills.
Oh, the pills.
You claim they help me run better, run faster.
I’m lucky that my mind runs
more efficiently than normal?
I am many things,
But lucky is not one of them.
Nor is normal.
You have it backwards.
My mind does run
Without the capsules.
It runs and runs and runs and runs.
It’s unstoppable, I mean really unstoppable;
I have no more control of it than you do.
Listen to me. I need these Schedule II controlled crutches
In order to walk.
Because some days I wake up crippled.
Other days I wake up in the middle of a marathon.
Either way I am simultaneously supported and restrained
And end up crawling through the daylight hours.
But hey, I am lucky to have such a close relationship
With your study buddy. We’re in the library today and
You want to “hold” one or two for your “all nighter” for an exam tomorrow.

Tomorrow will be a sad day for you.
Not because you will end up failing despite your last minute efforts,
But because the sun won’t come out from behind the gray.
You will feel sad, upset, perhaps even confused.
I will show no empathy. I will console you half-heartedly with the driest monotone a Human larynx can generate.
Tomorrow you will realize why I don’t feel lucky.
I don’t feel anything.
I am flat, and you tomorrow will notice I have been all along.
I don’t have happy; I don’t have sad.
What I have now is a routine. A convincing façade.
I have coping mechanisms and instincts hell-bent on survival.
I have a problem.
I don’t know if I have love anymore.
I think I have a few friends left.
I am losing my grip on the tattered remains of my personality.
I have already lost everything else.


I am many things, I presume,
But forgive me if I don’t feel lucky today.
25 April 2014.

inspired by a conversation with a peer & a subsequent Adderall-fueled meltdown. the third poem from the "Disclaimer" series.

© 2014 by Lorenzo Soldera. All rights reserved.
Jamiee Z Apr 2014
If you’re happy,
then you're the lucky ones.

If you don’t think of death day after day,
then you're the lucky ones.

If you have someone that loves you back,
then you're the lucky ones.

If you can feel your heartbeat inside your chest,
then you're the lucky ones.

Because the rest of us,
we’re dead inside.

We’re the sad ones
and the lonely ones.

We're the ones
that cry ourselves to sleep at night.

We're the ones
that dread life day after day.

We're the ones that watch you,
jealous that you're not us.


                                    j.z.
Isabella Sep 2013
If you haven’t fallen in love with someone yet,
And haven’t spent countless nights wondering how their voice saves you,
Or how their laugh is such a beautiful melody you cannot put into words,
Then you are lucky.

If you haven’t fallen in love with someone yet,
Then you haven’t felt the first love butterflies,
Or the quiet sound of eyelashes against each other’s cheek,
As you kiss them for the first time.
Then you are lucky.

If you haven’t fallen in love with someone yet,
You don’t understand the feeling when they hold you close,
As if gravity could never keep them down to Earth.
Then you are lucky.

If you haven’t fallen in love with someone yet,
You haven’t felt the exploding emotion of feelings,
And feeling like you heart and soul will combust into dust,
When they say they love you for the first time.
Then you are lucky.

If you haven’t fallen in love with someone yet,
You haven’t felt the red hot anger building in your throat,
And the tears coming down like waves from your eyes,
When the love suddenly goes away.
Then you are lucky.

If you haven’t fallen in love with someone yet,
Then you cannot understand the emotion,
Or the words you wish you could form,
When they say the same words to someone else.
And you feel like an old photograph that was lost in the attic.
Then you are lucky.

If you haven’t fallen in love with someone yet,
You do not know what it feels to watch your heart fall apart,
And crumble like soft rock dissolving in water,
Knowing you could never love someone as much you had loved them.

If you haven’t fallen in love with someone yet,
Then you are lucky.
Rizna M Rameez Oct 2018
Muslims,
Sisters, Brothers,
We are a very lucky Ummah
Because we live in the age of scientific discoveries
Which are our proving our Sunnah
Right

We already had every reason to believe
And follow the Sunnah
But yet for us
Our beliefs aren't strong enough

Allah is kind
These scientific discoveries
Give us deeper reasons to follow the Sunnah
It instills in us deep rooted Iman
Because all of it
All of it
Is right!

Our ancestors that chose to believe Allah
Were lucky
They benefitted from the Sunnah
That they didn't even know was doing them physical goodness
For the past 1400 years!!!
They knew of the rewards
But not beyond that

The rewards!
Allah promised rewards if we'd do something that was beneficial for ourselves!
Who else does that?

Who else pays you for eating that magnificent lunch THEY made?
All you gotta do
Is stretch your hand out
And take it

The Scientifically proven Sunnahs
You can call them now
Are a chance for us
To strengthen our Iman
And along with it,
Make our lives the BEST

So Sisters, Brothers
We are a lucky Ummah
But we need to beware of ignorance
That can lead us astray
15.10.2018

Our Ummah -
The community that exists during the time when the message of Muhammad (PBUH) is known. Which is all of us from the time Muhammad (PBUH) received the first verses of the Qur'an. Read.

But I'm referring to the part of the Ummah that is us in the 21st century right now.

Sunnah -
The way of Islam. The things we have been recommended to do.

Iman -
Faith. Belief. Which is a must if you're Muslim. Faith in the things that Islam has guided us to and said we must have faith in. Without belief we cannot have firm ground or reason for whatever we are doing.
I was pulling up in the car park at the Immigration Removal Centre
When I realised that I'd completely f 'ed up

Having remembered:
- portable recording studio
- condensor microphones x 2 (one of them doesn't work, dunno which one, they look the same)
- dynamic microphone (sometimes works)
- XLR cables x 2 (in a tangled mess)
- Jack cables x 2 (joining the party)
- headphones
- headphone splitter (a remedy for people who are always on their phone?!)
- big-to-little adapters
- kettle lead (so named because it dates back from when the kettle was king)
- guitar
- and two folders of important bits of paper (well, at least some of it might be important)

I suddenly realised that I'd forgotten the only genuinely essential thing.
My passport.
You can't get in without your passport.
That's the rule and the rules don't bend.
Security is paramount.

I find my colleague, Lucky, sitting in his car.
Lucky: "Kev, you aren't gonna believe this but..."
He didn't need to say anymore.
I knew that he had done the same thing.
Lucky and I were in the same *** of s*.

But for some reason they made an exception.
We were lucky.
It must had rubbed off.

(true story)
Colorado stoners firing it up
Lucky lucky lucky lucky lucky lucky luck

— The End —