Three Minute Warning

A messenger delivers
A three minute warning
As I lay in bed at 10:30 am
(Resting in preparation for,
not from, our oops, early morning hike).

Breakfast will be ready in 3,
Get your **** in gear or else
It will be cold, I'll be mad,
And you will answer to a
Higher Authority.

No problem cause I already know
All I need is two.

Splash water on my face
Now I'm presentable
enough to the human race,
current company probably won't be happy,
But I ain't telling her, are you?

Shave! You crazed?
It is a three day weekend,
Every day a July Fourth,
Celebrating freedom from the European tyranny,
Of shaving smooth  every day!

Splash water on my head, count with me,
Five brush strokes as you can plainly see
Is a classic case of overcompensating
In my geling n' hair stylin'

Brush my teeth, well,
I hope 2 full minutes of rinsing with  CVS
Green stuff, mouthwash, will have to suffice.

Blast my deodorant both sides,
Long and strong, wearin' now
My bold blue *** husk of musk,
Cause I am a very considerate fellow
Who happens to really have stunk.

Clean T- shirt and shorts,
Yes, clean underwear too,
Leaves me a whole minute to write this scribble.

My flip flop noises coming down the hallway,
Are the butler announcing our joint arrival,
Me and my poem.

Lest you think this is paean to men
Another grand male boast,
Be advised this ditty be writty
By a man who, while no longer gritty,
Just put jelly on his scrambled eggs
And ketchup on his toast!

Mmmmmmm there might be a poem
Lurking in that too...

For the most part, I think I'm a pretty expressive person.
If I stub my toe on the leg of a table I will curse to high Hell and condemn the person who even invented tables in the first place.
I mean who puts tables in dark rooms?
Use your common sense, people.
Lord knows that I don't have any.

I'm know as a rather blunt person in my group of friends.
I try to be as honest as possible, but that's hard to do when you're such a good liar.
So in order to compensate for this wonderful trait of mine, I hand out "I love you's" like cheap hair ties, except never to the people that really matter.
In the six years that I've known you, I've said "I love you" once.
And it's not that I don't--trust me--that's not the case.
It's that yours was too sincere.

I love you.
You make me nervous and uncomfortable.
I love you.
You make me want to tear my hair out.
I love you.
**** it, I want to **** you sometimes.
I love you.
Those three words will never be enough to fully describe  every adoring, furious, loving, and murderous thought I have about you.
*I love you.

I've been fighting whispers all my life
people have been saying
"maddie's gay"
"maddie's a *****"
"maddie's bi"
behind my back
the whole **** time,
I got it, okay? it's not news
that people say that about me-
it's not a surprise,
don't expect me to be offended,
it just hurts when it's people I love
and it's really whatever
it's just I can't seem to avoid it
even when I'll join the religious order
later in my life, it'll be
"maddie's overcompensating"
"maddie's doing it so no one would realize she's gay"
"maddie's religious so she had to do this because if she just stayed single there would be questions"
what do I have to ******* do to prove them wrong
bang a male in front of my whole school?
no, there will still be questions,
"maybe she's bi"
I'd like it if sexuality wasn't such a huge issue
and if my mannerisms didn't cause people
to say my name like a ***** word
and if I could just act like ordinary me
without being put in a box
wouldn't we all?

I'm an active volcano.
Sometimes, I slowly expel
My ash and steam; then again
I erupt to litter all
With my fiery core from hell.

Sometimes I poison the air.
Other times, I castigate
Those, who would subvert my goals.
I demand sacrifices
Of innocent and guiltless.

Bring me virgins, more virgins.


Maiden's Answer:

Dearest sovereign of this mountain land,
Your humble servant, accepts your hand.
To save ken, friends, and our countrywide,
I gladly consent to be your bride
For, in a sense, I'd become your wife.

I'm vestal, as the day I was born,
My integrity is not wayworn,
My righteousness is a source of pride,
But I shall promise to be your bride,
If you may grant my one small request.

Your strength, your wisdom, are beyond compare.
You have spent an eternity there.
So, I must ask a simple query,
Before I promise us to marry.
Might you be overcompensating?

I sit
Watching the trucks pass
These giant unleaded overcompensating
beasts, chewing the ground as they crawl past with robust swollen cancerous testicles hanging off the back
driven by children
These tiny, over privileged, unintelligible
****** bags breathing the good air, breaking the good things and replacing them with *******.

I envy them for their blissful ignorance
As they drive past, nothing on their minds
except ******* and punching.

Hair down, chin up!
That's what I ask, that you don't give up!
To the girl crying inside the stall,
or the one that's overcompensating, shopping spree at the mall.
Hair down, chin up, for your sake not mine,
I want you to walk, in a great straight line.
Take no more deviations, off the path,
fill your world with love, and do not participate in it's reveling wrath!
I say to you, mother of 1, 2, 3, 5 or more,
do not ever, close your door.
Lock the front, guard the back, but listen mother, to your children today,
for you do not know, how much longer you or they, may stay.

To the lonely wife, and with a husband now gone for so long.
Hold on tight to his memories, and pray to make much more,
and to him and only him, should ever open the door.
Times will test you, trials will be hard,
and never ever ever, throw down the give-up card.
Because he'll need you more than ever, and I hope that you do know this,
that for ever day he's gone, he longs for 10 fold, for a kiss.

To the young girls around the age, of aging immaturity,
I plead to you to think it over, know when you are ready.
Perhaps you love him, with all your heart and soul,
but do not lose sight, of an average person's goal.
Love grows fonder when practiced with care,
you are young yet, and troubles have yet to begun, will either of you still stand there?

Perhaps this is a rambling of a senile old man,
or do I speak at least a modest truth, as simple as I can?
I'll let you decide as to where the story leads,
these are little food for thought, the thought that I feed.

Now look up, and around, soon as this song is done,
open your eyes anew, your story has just begun.
Where ever you go, whomever you're in the company of,
Hair Down, Chin up, and never ever, give up on love.

There is no worse torture
To the lonely
Than seeing
Public displays of affection.

What is the point?

Holding hands
Everywhere you go,
Hugging,
Kissing,
Snogging.

You're ******* on
Open wounds.

Many of us
Didn't ask to be left.
We didn't volunteer
To be dying inside
With no paddles,
No nurse,
To revive us.

We know what
Heartbreak is.
And soon,
So will you.

You're
Overcompensating.
It's obvious.
You kiss her head,
Caress her face,
She's not your queen.
You have an ace
Hidden in your deck.

You're just hoping
She doesn't draw
Enough to
Expose you.

I have nothing
To make up for.

No sins against
A woman,
No jealousy
Against a man.

I have only
The experience
To tell when
Someone's being had.

Magic mirrors, Magic mirrors for sell.
These aren’t normal mirrors,
here’s how you can tell.

Don’t like your waist?
Look in the Magic mirror,
and it’s simply erased.

Any pragmatic problem with pimples,
Are seized, solved, and simple.

Any bruises, blemishes, or bumps?
No longer!
All it takes is an overcompensating ogle just once.

Don’t like what you see?
With this magic mirror you can see anything.

See the future,
See the past,
This magic mirror is something you just need to have.

They come small,
They come large,
This magic mirror can be yours for one small change.

Magic mirrors, Magic mirrors for sell.
These aren’t normal mirrors,
THATS how you can tell!

You wanna know where I got these magic mirrors…
Ok, but you can’t tell a soul…
Some say forged by a wizard,
Others say you have to **** a ten foot lizard,
Maybe in the depths of a tomb,
Perhaps 100 feet down in a dark deep room.

Or there’s a store down the road,
Selling normal mirrors for 2.99 a load.

is it possible to erase feelings of inadequacy
by overcompensating productivity
will it silence my self doubt
until exhaustion takes over

Let me give a personal measure
to myself;- the ruler isn't long enough
But by the rules of society,
I might be overcompensating,
so I'll have to break them both in half

I'm wondering why they've never named the newest hurricane 'Nostalgia.'
I don't sleep well at night because that storm preheats my psyche crisp and repeatedly.
And i'm currently overcompensating.

I watched him take California's south side,
tossing invitations back over his bronzed shoulder,
in a careless way he had coined

But the sky here has a way of wrapping me up, lifting my chin
upward and rooting my feet in this rocky Missouri soil
Like petals of an overgrown sunflower, my lightened hair
danced around my face

I watched the pale blue of the sky fall down on me and intensify
Masking the sprinkle of stars where our gazes had collided,
though the pairs of eyes set thousands of miles apart,
resting snugly in their sockets

Sleepy words streamed into my ear, leaving my mind feeling lazy
Hardly able to find the familiar tinge of dryness in his sentences--
As though the thoughts he had were lessened in value the moment
they passed through his lips

The early morning clouds had not yet agreed upon the day's weather,
billows of white thinning out into wisps and collecting again
Slipping over the roof top and onto the next neighborhood

I was lulled to sleep in their slow deciding as he held his breath for
the yellow of sunrise to spill through his shades in slats,
reassuring him that the darkness is not forever, although I had
caught him wishing it might be

I had never met my match until our two brains rattled,
our hard heads made contact and butted repeatedly
He made a habit of softening mine, kicking soccer ***** at my face
and kissing me slowly

Fast friends, always outrunning one another
Cynicism rushed warm red in our young blood
We unbandaged our wounds, and bled
openly into summer nights- so thick you could reach out
and steal handfuls of loud black

My crippled hands shakily wrapped up his festering gashes
Sealing in hours of stories of starving, of screaming,
of a scared little boy all bruised and beaten, before
we vanished back into our laughably broken lives

The back of his Blazer became my bed while my darling father
snored drunken oblivion into the air conditioned house I escaped from
Fresh cut grass from the open field, caught rides on my bare feet,
scattering across the comforter that spread over folded back seats

We wrestled and hurt ourselves, I would win, underneath him
We got faded and hurt each other, spilling unspeakable tales from
between our teeth and tears from frozen eyes, down onto our collars
Smoking like chimneys as we lay, swimming in music and moonlight

Every sunset was justified in its ending
Putting the people to sleep and quieting the cooling streets
The beginning of every day was a feather
trying to break the spine he was straining to straighten

He would tell you he was fine,
never given the chance to settle into good,
interrupted every time he slid into being okay
I would tell you he was a private young man,
overcompensating for chronic unhappiness
with good intentions

Laughing off every nightmare, until the room shook,
with sinister hilariousness-his own brand of medicine for
a sweet heart, poisoned by misfortune, a sharp mind
blinded by the lack of peace and easy comings

The night he left, I bought a sapphire tie to compliment his icy eyes
Unsure whether It would be a poor parting gift
or end up tied around his wrists to keep him from going

We had ended the physical slice of our relationship some time before
I sat in his passenger seat and struggled to form a sentence
that would be worth a ****

We waited for our stupid minds to catch up
to the swelling and swirling of emotion inside us
Refusing to say goodbye out loud, I tasted the
Peppermint and *** on his mouth for the last time,
quickly

My best friend went away and he never came back

Someday I will be unexpectedly thrown to the ground
Blaming it on my own unsure feet
until I catch sight of the culprit pair of Vans attached to a
smirking Blonde Beauty

I will grin as I trip on him again

suits chugging beers
overcompensating
a man rubs his hands with a new deal
capitalist moisturiser
Jargon For Dummies
in search of some
box full of empty rooms
holding tiny humanity
pin-striped warrior factory
they're everywhere these broken moulds
******* the middlemen
fattening bottom lines
bears set free amongst steel & glass
concrete hot under summer gamma
shareholders ruling but not really reigning

First off,
unshaved legs, rumbling stomach.
worn underwear, shot elastic.
nervous hands, sweaty palms.
calming touch from him.
uneven *******, slight embarrassment.
chapped lips, overcompensating Carmex.
stuffed nose, whistle breathing.
soft kiss from him.
nervous hands become slowly confident
unsure hips begin to sway
passionate kiss from him.
whispered words, anxious thoughts.
calming touch from  her.
arms holding, bodies contouring.
"let's just lie together".
pattered raindrops, perfect bed.
promises made, kisses given.
lazy caresses, staring gazes.
almost first time.

Being with me won't be rainbows and sunny skies.
No, it'll be red clouds and acid rains.
It'll be crazy jealousy and looming shadows.
It'll be red, white anger and glaring silences.
It'll be overcompensating insecurities and stiffling possessiveness.

I know it'll be too much for you to bear
So do you still dare?

Now that you know being with me will be living in hell.

I have the world
I have touched God
felt his breath on the back of my neck while I dove in and out of the clearest night skies known to any man, living or dead
I have drank euphoria down with certain privilege

and here I stand in the middle of this hot room,
sweat marks lining a ***** and greyed night shirt
legs wrapped in clinging and cheap black fabric
covered in dog hairs, cat fur and spilt milk
I can smell it souring with my negligence

I stand here sweating, shaking
I repeat
over and over and over
"I need a doctor"
"I need a doctor"
"I need a doctor"
"I need a doctor"
"I need a doctor"

I cannot stop

and my chest will not do me the the honour
to heave with tears and gasps
draining itself of sickness

it is wound like an overcompensating clock
around itself
and collapsing into me
surely
and too quickly

I stand here
I watch my oily, reddening face bring swollen eyes that modest salted water drips from,
slowly
like an unkept tap

I need a doctor
my mind has collapsed onto itself
a Victorian home with roaches climbing in and out of softened floorboards
a feast on what remains

My eyes are worn, puffy, and burn
Dry, overcompensating for the flood of tears

Playing the hardwood like a keyboard;
fingertips and nails tapping rhythmically.
I tied the tie but you pulled the cord,
letting the knot come undone; swinging freely.
I didn’t deserve your invisible cold shoulder,
I didn’t deserve the weight of your blame,
maybe you’ll realize in the future when you’re older,
something tells me you’ll never change, you’ll remain the same.

And you’ll be jumping from decision to decision
without knowing your landing spot,
and if it all goes as I envision,
you’re gonna need all the sympathy the world has got.
Because you never learn from a mistake,
and respect and empathy you surely lack,
as you leave destruction in your wake with every heart you break,
and you can’t even be bothered to turn around and look back.

You don’t question the motives of the words in your ears,
convinced you’re making your own decisions while being directed.
I didn’t realize you became 2008 Britney Spears,
this acceptance of no responsibility is more than I ever expected.
You always were a bad liar,
overcompensating for the lack of a single fact,
but in two or six years you didn’t tire,
did you take lessons from my girl Meryl in how to act?

They say to base a person
on not their words but their action,
and not to judge someone when they’re at their worst,
you complain of conflict while also causing the traction,
and keep applying the pressure; all has potential to burst.
You watched me shovel and dig a grave,
convincing me the whole time it was a life for two.
I worshipped you willingly as your devoted slave,
and I guess I was just gum stuck to your shoe.

I want to slander your name
but then I’d have to speak it,
instead I passed back the blame
this time for good you can keep it.

I've written
countless drafts.
Crumpled up the paper,
thrown it away,
only to write a slightly different version the next day.

This has gone on for years.
Once you start the debate of suicide,
it never really goes away.
Everything gets weighed in,
good and bad.

"Oh you failed your math test?
might as well give up everything.
You missed the shot and your team lost because of you?
why are you still here?
You donated blood? What are you overcompensating for?"

Its not like I want to die,
that's not why I keep writing these and have tried once,
no, I just want to stop the pain.
Enduring intolerable existence
just to spare everyone around some questions to ponder.

Only part of me wants the freedom the act grants,
release from everything,
a life ruined a long time ago.
And that's the part that I wish I could
****.

The part that makes me question
every knife,
crosswalk,
rooftop,
as a rehearsal for tragedy.

If the news tells you
someone died from sleeping pills,
you must know that isn't true.
They died of grief,
a slow bleed from the very soul.

Killing myself is an inaccurate term,
I think its more accurate to say that we are just
worn down by the long, hard struggle to stay alive.
Suicide is thought of as just giving up, with no fight.
Couldn't be further from the truth.

To live is the most painful thing
I could ever imagine.
I'm weak, and unwilling to fight anymore.  
I may not be able to tear out a single page of my story,
but I can throw the entire book into a fire.

*I want to tell you everything, but I can't.
Because you'd have that look on your face.
I just want to be able to pretend I'm normal, even though I'm not.
I don't want to see you hurt by my pain,
I don't want to hurt you, or anyone else.
So, please, forget about me.
Just try and find a better friend than I have ever been.

Urge to Feed


Headed to a job
A boss, and little pay
The feeling of claustrophobia
Never dwindling away

The walls are caving in now
I don’t have air to breathe
My body’s on the loose somewhere
Its’ only chance to flee

Going undercover
Invisible to see
One foot after another
My only chance to leave

I step into a new world
One I’ve never been
To forage for my sustenance
A sudden urge to feed

Grossly underestimated
Taken for a fool
Don’t be too judgmental
That would just be cruel

Savor every morsel
Like today’s your last
Overcompensating for
A straight line up the path

A quest to find lost memories
In the castle up the street
I hope the door is open
For I haven’t got the key

If I had it I would lose it
Set it down and walk away
It’s right there where I left it
Imagine my dismay

My memories are all but gone
Save for one or two
Don’t try and change the subject
It’s impolite to do

Instead, gather up your things
Follow me to solid ground
It’s what you do when no one’s looking
That really makes me proud

Don’t ever take for granted
Why our soldiers went to war
To secure all of our freedom
It’s too hard to ignore

So many feelings all at once. Why did I open myself up, why did I let myself feel? Everything always hits at once.
It's hard to tell my heart to keep beating,
my lungs to keep breathing.
I just want that peaceful rest. Conflicting voices raging inside,
stop beating,
stop breathing.
It's so easy to let go.
Heart torn between sputtering,
and hammering.  Dying out or overcompensating.

got some words
got some thoughts
sounds windy outside in bed
feels windy inside of my head
changing directions
lists of altercations
i'm tired of being inconsistent on the surface
while only ever overcompensating in my brain
everything that seems to be different
still seems the same

You have any idea
What it’s like to be a nihilist
******* everyday
Knowing nothing still exist

The scenery turns grey
And no more light gets cast
Contemplating nothingness
Any **** could be your last

(sigh) please bear with me
Lack of hope has made me nauseous
You people are ******* crazy
So one must be a little cautious

Look it’s not personal
You’re just not over here
Perhaps if you met me in the middle
Then we could have a beer

Until then my wayward friend
You keep safe your hope and faith
Just keep it over there
Your overcompensating wraith

Look it’s just not easy
You’re all so happy and delusional
Just makes me kind of wonder
If your crazy is institutional

Don’t you see it doesn’t matter
What anyone believes
All that’s certain is uncertain
You’re not the only one who grieves

So step down from your podium
And hand me Schrödinger’s cat
You could say that cat’s the doctor
Which makes you my friend, a rat