"mentioning" poems
when a poet falls in love with you
you can never die
they will notice the way
you rub your palms and look down
when someone is angry at you
and the way you smirk
as you pull away from a kiss
they will notice how you can't sleep
without your body touching someone else's
how you never crease any pages of books
and how you close your eyes when you dance in your kitchen
with your record player on
they will find all of the words
that they see you as
and turn them into something beautiful
people say you die twice
once when you stop breathing
and when someone says your name
for the last time
if you fall in love with a poet
they will never stop
mentioning your name
you will be alive
for eternity
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 3:32 PM UTC
Most schools have projects, in science classes and such.
Most of us, mastered the science of surviving in projects.
It's those at the bottom who need the most help, but cant even get proper school supplies.. where's the logic ?.
But oh, the rags to riches story is prevalent isn't it? Nope, the only rich I know is Professor Richard.
And that's not even something worth mentioning, he does more lessening than lessons lets paint the picture..
But these young kids don't understand, they try to curse them, place them in prisons, its a trap from birth..
Give them these Rick Rosses as role models, knowing they don't have fathers, instead of Tupac Shakur, showing them worth..
My bestfriend Tony once questioned his dark skin, just like i once questioned my brown.
how profound, a couple 4th graders at the time, having to prove that they were "down".
Crazy how Tony proved he was down, now i visit his site yearly on November the third.
And things aren't getting better, but nobody gives a **** haven't you heard..
The prayers our mothers chant, ritually every night.
Praying to the Sun gods, perhaps one day we'll all unite.
-afj
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 8:34 AM UTC
the british way, not mentioning
yarn, too much, repeating words,
where no longer necessary. wool
in abundance here, piled on wool
lorries, neatly balanced with
premium acrylic.
it is a fine line we walk,
gently avoiding peptides,
only just a theory, yet used
independantly, alongside
honest work, for mending.
today is hallow e’en
sbm
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 2:00 AM UTC
Lord, she's so beautiful,
but she's still my friend
I've done everything I can
to keep her safe from other men
Which isn't saying much
because this girl's so smart,
but what I've tried to save
is the innocence of her heart
With every bad man in her life
I just try to remain the same
because I've worked so hard
to have such a good name
and be someone that's reliable,
someone that she can trust,
but on my side of the coin
it's more than just lust
I throw her off my scent
by mentioning other girls
Little does she know
that she encompasses my world
How can she not know
that she's what I envision
when I think of the perfect woman
and provide the description?
**** any girl alive
that doesn't think they're beautiful!
Their heads are in the clouds
and their world's in cubicles
One day very soon here
I'll help her open her eyes
and maybe she'll realize
she's known the perfect guy
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 4:43 PM UTC
Sometimes
I play a finger
along the cheek
of your face
in the photo of you,
my son,
imagining it's real
and you are here,
my dear.
Sometimes I think
I see you,
go along the passage
as you used to do
before your death;
but there's no one there
when I look again,
just the pain.
Sometimes I feel
your finger running
down my spine
with a gentle touch,
as if you say:
I'm here, just a little
out of reach,
out of your sight,
but I'm all right.
Sometimes I feel
a tightening of my throat,
at the mentioning
of your name,
or tears well up
in my eyes,
or I choke up
when it dawns
on me
you're no longer
here beside me,
or if you are,
I cannot see.
Sometimes
I feel a hole
in my heart,
and the blood of grief
seeps through;
miss you, son;
no more
I can say or do.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 4:04 PM UTC
My 2 Cents
“the advocacy of women’s rights on the grounds of political, social, and economic equality to men.”
Let me start by mentioning that I don’t usually get involved with political matters, but in this case, I’d say it’s more of a basic human rights matter.
I’m a man, and I’m a feminist.
I was lucky enough to grow up in a home with three women; my mother and two older sisters. Growing up with them gave me an enormous amount of respect for women, (even though I may have lost a certain amount of socially expected masculinity along the way), and their current lives continue to increase my respect for the opposite gender.
My oldest sister is leaving to study abroad at Oxford in less than a week to major in philosophy. Philosophy. She also graduated high school with a 4.0 and was involved in power lifting competitions and is enlisted in ROTC. Simply put, she’s an animal. She’s worked hard her entire life and I’d hate to see a world that put that hard work to waste.
My other sister is working three jobs to pay her way through college and is planning to major in psychology. I’m always envious of her work ethic and level of commitment to not only her education, but to her friends and family as well.
My mother has been my backbone since I was a child. She was always the one I turned to in times of trouble, and continues to be. She works hard everyday, while going through mentally straining marriage problems, and comes home and still asks me about my day. She has given me nothing but unconditional love for my entire existence.
For these reasons, it boggles my mind why anyone would ever be anti-feminism. I am genuinely confused as to why, because their bodies are different, women get less privileges, respect, opportunities, and even money. I just don’t get it.
I am also disgusted that women are seen by most men as walking ****** organs. l will admit genuine guilt to using the number scale to “rate” women. It’s something I grew up with, but now it sickens me. Assigning a number to a woman based on your misguided views on how she should look, whether you would **** her, is something I find repulsive. There’s nothing wrong with admiring the opposite *** but no one gives a **** about your stupid opinion, especially the woman.
I hope someday if I ever have a daughter that she will have the privilege of living in a country of gender equality, tolerance, and open-mindedness.
Anyway, I just wanted to put my two cents in.
I am a man.
I am a feminist.
Peace.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
to me,
love was always a mystery to me. i never truly understood what it was.
though, i like to think that i did and sadly, i thought everyone else knew what it was too but just like me, it was a mystery.
as someone who grew up without knowing what it truly meant,
i always thought it was something you can look for again after it's gone, something that will make you feel better on your bad days, something that will complete you.
i have loved so many times, or so i think i have.
but honestly, aren't we just a bunch of people throwing around the word love thinking that we know what it means? unintentionally making someone else feel special, not knowing what the consequences of using the word love really are?
now that i am older,
i think i finally understand.
that love is something no one can ever talk about without mentioning how much it actually hurts. loving someone meant truly wanting them in every way possible. most of us cannot handle how imperfect a person may be, and we will try our best to change them because "we only want the best for them." love is not finding perfection in someone's imperfection, but instead it is accepting the imperfections in someone and learning to love it as well.
i know i still can't tell you what love really means but i have found someone who helped me understand what love might be.
i loved every bit and piece of him, i loved everything about him. all his flaws, his appearance, his heart, his personality, his tantrums, the way he talks over me when he gets excited, how he tries to see eye to eye with me even when we have completely different point of views, **** i loved everything. everything that i never thought i'd like, i did anyway. i didn't only want him, i needed him. he did not complete me, but we go so well together. i never wanted to change anything about him even though i wanted to see them do better. i was willing to go through it all with him, good or bad.
is this what love really is? the fact that you know someone's bad side and you still love them anyways?
you see, no matter who i meet in my life and maybe, just maybe i might love them but i will still be able to pinpoint their flaws and maybe those are the things i won't like about them or the things i wish to change about them no matter how much i love them because i am selfish.
but with him, it's different because i loved it all. i still do. i never wish to change anything about him because that wouldn't be the person i love anymore and that's just something i can never do with anyone else, i can't love someone else like this.
he taught me how to be patient, kind and accepting.
but most importantly, he taught me how to love.
sadly, this love is only meant for him and no one else because love is not meant to be thrown around like how we did to others before we have met each other.
i guess your last lesson was teaching me that love also means wanting to see someone obtain the bigger and better things even if it means doing so without you.
i can finally say this to someone and mean it,
i will always love you, no matter what you do, where you go and who you meet in life.
thank you, my love.
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 2:05 PM UTC
There was nothing I was ever so ashamed of
that I dumped it in a river to drown,
but one time my best friend accidentally tossed my pink fishing pole
into the bayou when a spider dangled from the line.
We were eight, everything was wishy-washy
because she called herself a mulatto like it were an insult
and my older friends kept mentioning that my mom walked herself
to a liquor store very late at night
twelve-packs bruising her German-colored shoulder.
I did not tell them my father had hidden away her car keys.
Girls teased me and I still wanted to kiss their cheeks at goodbyes,
The Little Mermaid featured at our sleepovers
saying, “kiss the girl,” so I did
but we stopped talking when I bought my training bra,
it proved what was in my skirt, my lips could not touch them again.
You cannot kiss a girl if you are a girl,
even if Disney movies say it is okay because Mickie Mouse
has no ***** to be ashamed of though a wife of the opposite ***
I learned important things until I turned ten
and Hurricane Katrina unraveled the bayou into my house
and I existed in four different classrooms in my fourth grade year
where nobody had enough time
to learn my name, much less the way it is spelled.
Now, in therapy, the certified insists
that I am a girl who kisses other girls because my mother
only put her lips on a bottle.
But maybe I wear striped dresses just because mold grew that
shape in my home on Camellia Street,
mud decorated the fallen refrigerator so it looked like
a cow some punk tipped over.
I just wish the sidewalk I use to rollerblade on hadn’t flooded.
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 6:50 PM UTC
Why have two arms?
If you're not willing to hug.
People are quick to punch with two arms.
Even with one arm.
You can deliver a lovin' hug.
It these limps that truly assist us.
Sure there are others.
But at the present.
I'm not mentioning them.
Altho' I'm sure the lips.
Are a little jealous.
Why have two hands?
If you're not willing to use them.
We use them to shake hands.
Altho' we have those afraid to catch a germ.
As if.
They hadn't caught germs from other items in their life.
This hug.
Which can be given with kindness.
Which can be deivered with softness.
Well, in this case.
The receiver might have a sun burn.
Or some other type of injury.
Plus, you can hug too tight.
And be banned from trying that again.
When requested to just shake hands.
Of course.
You have those that does the search and feel.
Trying to be like a detective trying to pat you down.
But for those that's truly sincere.
You personally know those that's sincere.
When giving a hug.
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 8:57 AM UTC
I have many koalifications,
Numbed by gum leaves, stupefaction,
Glazed by arid summer drought,
Real hot today, there's no doubt!
What's this? Black storm clouds?
Who said clouds were allowed?
Now there's rain a'drenching,
Oh, it's stopped, not worth mentioning,
There's a eucalyptus Petrichor,
I'll daze now, did it rain at all?
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 4:33 PM UTC
We ask people that everyday
How have you been ?
I never know what to say
Should I say how I'm actually feeling
I don't think you're prepared
For what I'm concealing
When I say I'm fine I'm not
When I say I had a good week
I'm not mentioning all the demons I fought
Sometimes I admit I'm struggling
People tell me choose joy! Live with less stress
You have to much your juggling
I almost start to cry
They don't get it
Its not that easy, I try
But its as if my joy is on the other side
of the window i can't quite open
I scratch, hit, and pull but it wont slide
All I feel is the ice cold from the glass
I just needed you to listen
Don't try to blow smoke up my ***
If I'm less busy i have more time
For my mind to wonder
For me to fall in a dark hole, I cant climb
I guess the only way for this to be fixed
Is to say I'm good
and lie through my lips
How are you?
I'm fine.
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 4:03 PM UTC
sometimes i get
suicide bombers, rapists, killers, robbers and thieves
because their motives are visible through their actions.
but i never once in my life
bothered understanding businessmen, pastors, priests, muslims, religions, politicians,
and people whose motives in life
remain hidden
until caught red handed,
and also those people
who choose not to see the world naked for what it is.
maybe the UP activists are right
and that i shouldn't think of them as brainwashed kids or
just paid heads to do
what they do but their actions,
my thoughts and this poem
doesn't change anything.
i bet 100% of you
who are reading this would either think i'm deranged or seeking for attention.
i could go on and on writing
this **** and explain thoroughly
but the people's brain
are now wired to ex b's
hit single and yes,
mentioning that made
this a little bit funny but no.
as a ******* filipino
who should be typing this in tagalog, working overseas,
i've seen some fellow countrymen showed some pride
against their oppressors
from work but they don't get anywhere but jail.
i must've forgot,
the movie about manalo
trampled the one
about heneral luna.
see how helpless
we are in reality?
what's your photo that comes
with a bible verse got to do with others?
are you spreading
the word of God?
what does it do to you?
Sometimes I get
The New People's Army.
But I don't get Muslims
who runs businesses and the Chinese too.
Sometimes I wish
I could spread fake news
that doesn't harm others
and last but not the least,
I hope someday the world would stop not and smoke Marijuana all
at the same time
including North Korea.
I couldn't stop.
I also hope that these people,
those who has a lot of followers
use the attention properly but no, people are so ******* dumb and Salinger is right with Holden's, "People never notice anything"
and nothing's too big
if people will stop creating bigger things that'll only add up to the congestion clogging up the world.
and Allen Ginsberg is right,
we are breaking our
******* backs just to lift ******* Moloch.
**** your Mosques, your INC branches, your corporations, your religions, your borders and divisions, your trends that kills the minds of the youth.
**** your laws, about making Marijuana illegal.
**** your disguise and your intelligence.
I almost believe world cleansing is the answerbbecause the ant colonies are so much better
ruling the world.
I don't know anymore, my smartphone's ******
and I am not smarter. . .
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 10:06 PM UTC
Darkness seeps between my fingertips
Even when my hands are clutched to my face as tightly as I can when I am crying alone
Fingernails digging into my skin
To remind myself that it is real
Sleeves pulled over my fingertips
So no one is forced to see the hideous things
Especially me
The way a murderer's mother shuts her son's old bedroom door at night when he has been jailed
To shut out the memories
Concealing what is unpleasant
At night I don't wear makeup
So when I wake up at 2AM to use the washroom
I keep the lights off
And fumble blindly through the black air to find the door handle
So I don't have to look at myself
It's getting worse everyday
A new kind of pain
And I don't understand
Why it hurts so much
But I think I'm going to stop telling people about it
I'm going to stop mentioning it no matter how much it hurts
I'm going to stop being self-deprecating in public
Because it just comes across vain, self-pitying, annoying, attention-seeking and fake
I want people to stop telling me I'm pretty
I want them to stop lying to me
Even if it just to spare my feelings
So I will stop putting them in situations
Where they must lie to me to be polite
I'm just going to be silent now
They already have to know how ugly I am on the outside
No one needs to know
What an ugly mind I have
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
I thought the guy dressed up like a kingfisher
Didn’t really look like a kingfisher
His beak too long
His legs not yellow enough
But still he did a pretty good job of diving into the water
And coming up with a guy dressed up like a fish
Even though his fins looked a little too stiff to me
(No wonder the kingfisher caught him)
And the bull facing that matador
(who even had a pigtail like the one Hemingway kept mentioning --
Oh, I mean the real man not the man dressed as a bull)
He just looked too scared for a bull
Well that’s what I thought
And I’ve been to a lot of bullfights
Real bulls got more bravery than that
Sure they’re confused
But I’ve never seen one turn tail and run
Oh yeah -- and he forgot to put a tail on his bull suit
All in all it was a wash wasn’t it
Wetter than the guy in the kingfisher suit.
Still it was nice for us to dress up in animal costumes
To give the animals at least one day to have a day off
Maybe next year we’ll figure it out better
Both in our costuming and their cries
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 3:49 PM UTC
Bride to Be:
Oh how could he do this to me?
I trusted him undoubtedly!
Now I lie upon the grass
Hoping one day a man will pass,
And steal my heart from my chest.
So I can escape this god awful mess
Fiance:
My heart is trapped inside,
A woman of a common kind.
Continually forced to pay the fee,
Of dealing with those bound to flee.
I swear I could give her all she needs,
the complete effect of fantasy.
But I would be remiss.
In not mentioning her recent fear to kiss.
Bride to Be:
I am a wallowing bride to be
Wallowing in misery
A month ago surrounded in bliss
Until he had to take that risk
All because he heard a scream,
Trailing from a crimson stream.
Fiance:
My face is cut and torn to shreds,
And now my love won't be wed.
I only did what I thought was best.
Yet I was surely led to loneliness.
I heard a scream from down the street,
And so I immediately took to my feet.
Saw the face of a woman scorned,
And a man who saw fit to leave me adorned
Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 10:59 PM UTC
Contemplating life
over a hot bowl of soup,
my mindful mentor
passed me
the pleasure of oyster
to mix in with
the pain of chilies
stirred together by
chopsticks held in my hands.
There he taught me
the lesson of humanity
and the person's potential,
pointing at me
and then back at the bean sprout,
fiddling it in his chopsticks
as if he were God,
mentioning to me
"This sprout and you have plenty alike..."
"What do you mean?
How am I like a vegetable?"
He smiled and nodded to disagree,
"Life is not always physical.
Think for a second,
open your fragile closed mind.
Imagine this soup not just a bowl
but instead a cauldron,
the mixing of different elements,
sensations seared by heat
to create the luxuries we call
the world where you
are a mere bean sprout."
Looking at the small, colorless
tasteless, inferior plant,
I wondered, confused and asked:
"Am I so inferior in this world
that I cannot compare
to the rich flavor of beef,
to the nurturing noodles,
to the accenting spices,
but instead am no more
than a flavorless root?"
Yet my mentor laughed,
and patiently passed:
"You worry too much young one,
too much on yourself you blame.
Instead, take upon consideration
that the bean sprout is small,
fragile, tasteless like water;
there is nothing you can change
other than size and color,
but lower it into the soup
and patiently stir,
allow it to soak up the world
and obtain its potential."
I repeated his actions,
placed myself in the world,
sat patient and absorbed its essence,
and then removed it,
placed it to my lips.
Surprised that what I later discovered
was not a bland taste of disappointment arose
but instead what lingered to the tongue
was the sweet taste of near perfection.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 11:50 PM UTC
i smoke cigarettees too **** much.
this is how you know nothing original will be said in this poem.
i use cigarettes as a social crutch.
i don't know about you
but when i'm in the mood to be honest
i'll tell you
i smoke cigarettes because
i want to be 'cool'.
because let's be honest:
i can't think of
a poet
a musician
an actor
an olympic swimmer
a hockey player
a president
a priest
a ****
a serial killer
or a psychiatrist
that's worth mentioning
that did not smoke
yes, i know you can
and go ahead,
but let me first
make a point instead
let me be honest,
if i can smoke a cigarette
and maybe be alone for
5.75 minutes
then maybe
a thought will occur to me
something outside this ******** world
and it will be good enough to write down,
just maybe.
let me be honest
i don't need you
with your judgemental eyes
and your cursory glances
walk away from me
at a party
i don't miss you
i am with her.
i garauntee if you asked
Whitman
Hemmingway
Freud
Phelps
Obama
about their actual relationship with smoking tobacco
they would have similiar descriptions.
but go ahead, tell me
about the hazardous effects of cigarettes
let's talk about the cancer
and the tar
and the disgusting phlem
that i will constantly have to eject
from my throat-hole
when i'm fifty.
go ahead, tell me about
******* people over
and ripping their minds out
and the sickness
and the disease
and how it's all so wrong.
it's as amusing to me as it is to you.
Mcdonald's will **** you.
Pall Mall will **** me.
Nov 5, 2011
Nov 5, 2011 at 12:34 AM UTC
They say boys like nice girl
Do you?
I assume you like it somewhere in between
But tilt to bad a little bit
Just like the other day when I was choosing between
Black and White lingerie
Black wins
You blushed when mentioning that thing
But I saw you staring at those
Legs.Literature is your camouflage
Mini skirts are your sanctuary
They say blue- eyed people are smarter
Are you?
I have brown ones but I bet I could still
Make you a fool
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
It rhymed, it seemed sensible
Although maybe reprehensible
Because it didn’t quite make sense,
Questions with no answers
Intensifying with the questioning
But never mentioning any answers
Just mysteries but no attempts
To justify
What was being said,
The page being fed
with more words
read felt and heard before
But never quite sure what it was trying to say
It carried on anyway,
It rhymed because it seemed sensible
But it was questionable whether it
Had any meaning,
A room with no floor but walls and a ceiling
What?
Are you sure you’re not looking at it
Upside down?
Surely it’s more appealing
The other way round,
Less falling into nothingness
The ceiling as a floor would be best
Or spinning really fast so you can’t quite fall
Because it catches you,
Hopefully no nails from pictures
In the walls
Because it scratches you
Spinning round
In a room
With no windows watching you.
Butterscotch table for two…
What?
It doesn’t make sense,
But for recompense it rhymes
I said that already I know
But I need certain lines
In there because,
Well…
You know why.
Ladders wrapping like snakes around the branches of
Trees
That could be climbed unappeased
Were it not for nonsense
The cycle repeating over time
Not pleasing but feasible
reasoning untangible
But more manageable
Like conditioned hair
More easy to bare
The sense that the
Dense trees of time
As they climb entangled with ladders like snakes
Or vines
in their hair
Mangled
They don’t make much sense
They just rhyme.
That’s just life.
And that’s fine.
What?
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC
I would take pictures
of myself on facebook but I would rarely ever wear a smile.
I would not take selfies not for attention and not for love from any love else.
They were just daily reminders and the cruel reality was that I have always hated the way I looked.
I obsessed over my weight and thought if I did look skinnier that I would look great.
A few times in my life I had to face my inner battle head on
it has won me an few times in my life.
At certain points in my life I rejected eating and enjoying my food.
All the fat comments took my joy of eating away, they were
so vile and rude.
Being shouted at in the street and called the fat loser.
In this period of my life I had an year of self hatered and defeat.
The eating issue was hard to beat.
I would get triggered
if anyone mentioned anything relating to my weight if it was just another joke.
The echo of the rude comments
would stand out in my brain
repeating the same rude line.
"Your a fat loser"
Even when people in my family
said I was looking fine and were more concerned about my health.
The voice in my head would keep shouting that these are all lies.
I said to people around me
please do not keep mentioning
about my weight and just talk
about other topics.
Dont keep feeding the hate that is already there when there are plenty of things out than just talking about my weight.
It only magnifies the issue of the ED
and this makes it tougher to fight inside my mind.
I have accepted my ED and dealt
with some of my inner pain
that is only half the battle, in my own head I must learn to accept and love my body, be happier and eat more regularly without feeling any dread, guilt and remorse.
Love my self, ignore the haters and horrible cruel comments that have always stood out in my mind.
The comments and thoughts
are always going to be there
but I now I know I really dont care as much about this
and to not let it control my life.
The rude people in the street
might have won the battle at the time
for a short while
but they never won the whole war over me.
I have choose now to accept my fate, eat again and be more health. Learning to love myself again and that is the final score.
Feb 1, 2022
Feb 1, 2022 at 2:23 AM UTC
So here we are, just you and me. On the edge of everything and nothing, we sit staring out into the ocean of things we wish we’d done.
We hold hands, it’s a formality. I’m scared. You soothed my anxiety, because even though I was scared of you, I knew everyone else was too.
I miss making you coffee in the morning, I wish I’d loved YOU more. You always had that massive mug with two teabags or two tablespoons of coffee.
I wish your family and I could have worked. Please don’t think for a second I didn’t try. Most of my time spent at yours was on eggshells, the ones they had placed.
I miss our first year, your second. Remember that? We were so silly and full of joy. Gimmick Puppets, Plants. You and your stupid trenchcoat that ended up smelling awful no matter how much you washed it. Your long hair was nice. I liked it. It framed your smile that was as bright as the Sun that set in the West over Zephyr’s strawberry field.
The light sank in your eyes the more you were with me. I drained you, I knew that. I stayed. I lied. You didn’t trust me anymore.
I’m happy, admittedly lonely. But I know you’re happy, scared but happy. It’s always been my job to appear, do what I must (whether I know what that is or not) and watch over. The bear finds another like him, and as I remember mentioning a few times, as we lounged lazily on the sofa with our cereal, playing every bit the monsters others cast us out to be;
What on Earth is a bear doing with an angel?
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 5:05 PM UTC
Why won't you allow me to live normally?
Why won't you allow me to live in peace?
Can you stop being delusional?
I don't want to be in your delusions
I don't want to be the main focus of your delusions
Stop sexualizing me
It's creepy
Stop pretending to be part of the "normal human" society
You're not normal
You are nearly 50 years old
You live in Australia
You're a narcissist
You talk to minors daily
You're delusional
You stalk my page daily
You harass me
You threaten my life
With a long knife
Now what in the he double hockey sticks is going on?
You claim you're not in love with me
Yet, you decide to write ****** things about me
(which is quite creepy because I'm 12 years old)
You're obsessed with my race
Then you may say my poetry is a disgrace
You criticize my poetry
Then compliment my poetry
Pick a side!
With the rules you'd have to abide!
Don't be a "182 IQ" *********
Leave me and my brother alone
He won't be manipulated by you
I won't be manipulated by you
He won't be in your "cult" or "team"
You've learned about my Papa after mentioning him a few times
Papa was the thing I referred to you as
Are you trying so hard to be my Papa?
Because I would never refer you as my Papa ever again
He's a kind, strong, compassionate man that spoils me and drinks at night to fall to sleep
Something that you'd never understand
I've told you multiple times to leave me alone
This is my last warning
Mar 28, 2025
Mar 28, 2025 at 11:19 PM UTC
Self-inflicted,
internalize.
Don’t say a thing, just shut your eyes.
She doesn’t want to hear,
why you feel this way.
You grate on her nerves,
when you keep mentioning those things.
Cry in your pillow,
and internalize
whatever you are thinking.
It’s just in your mind.
Self-inflicted.
Internalize.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
Expensive handbags,
Pensive listening,
Nothing I say is ever worth
Mentioning.
Swing on this
Hinge-- a see-saw of
Heartache
Bruised on the *** by
The frozen snake--
Never to thaw
And never to break.
Exquisite lampshades
Hide the luminous
Color,
Now a dingy
Dim of disrepair
Order.
Visit a fairytale
Where honey flows in
Waterfalls,
The smooth will soothe the
Heartless work and
Falls.
Tangled cloth again today,
Moth eaten and angled,
We ride in the dark
Convinced our little playground could save
A heart.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC