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Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Are we all here
Or elsewhere
Treetops Robin birds
What!! Is it only words?
The sky she wore the
blue velvet cry
Whats still here what
will life bring
Afterlife sing before I die?

       *
Why

Headless horseman goodbye
Breadwinner Sportsman
Your worst enemy
The closer he gets knowing
your drama/ Cowboy-comedy

"Whats Here"

The Emmy meeting
another writer
      "Dude"
The Dude Ranch
Meet the "Ghostwriter"
The computer
early bird
Specially rude

The Medieval time of the
"Fable" sword fight
In a fork road, he was
born *English Sterling
The Silver anniversary
Dude piece boring
    
Whats here setting Ms.Dahla
Sweet Magnolia flowers
He's aiming for Azelia
What dudes grow
in her family
table
I'm here and he said
I'm the Dude

We are here Paul Revere rides
Breaks our glassware
Mr. Bigfoot needs to decide

Those Philly steaks "Heinz Ketchup"
Pittsburg tip of the iceberg here-up
Feeling sorry for the "Dude"

I'm right beside you here
Racers mouth racetrack win
More supernatural forces of sin
Rayban Mr. Sun-Ray glare
This was all I could take
in one day
It's important so let's stay
in one place
Where we can see one another
All dudes what eludes in character's

The false eyelashes her
prediction Alice madly
Tea party detention

Dancing in the
spiritual rain
She is the biggest pain

What cheeks swear
with her pinky
The blow dryer the
Big Lebowski stayer
Russian Roulette
Crystal fighter Swarovski
Homewrecker traveler
The dude investigation
*Risky business Dudes in the mansions

Rome cannot be built in one day
What's here your *Mom
is
baking noodle pudding today
You are laughing and both got
Brooklyn fever
Divine hour telling her how
much you love her
Familiar eyes hot dudes
delivery
The best flight activity
Getting you up
Your NativityI'm the dude cup

Always wondering you drift
Whose coming to dinner
*Mystery is it really here
        The Dude of a gift
Happy tears New Years

Darling
White Polar Bears

Days of daydreams dude stamps
All tolls and Polls
Twitter and Trumps
Or coming closer to
your darkest night
*
Forever wherever you are
It's the dark velvet satin

Night in White Satin
The other side of midnight
Humans animals always
the mating watcher's delight

Paper cuts of a paperweight
Feeling like a deadweight dude
The lightheaded most amazing night sky
The bright future warm you up
passionate guy

Whats here names
Don't use me usernames
Such con names, married names
Where each other's equal
Whats here love the sequel
The proud mother
My Bald Eagle

Hairy fluffy so cute beagle
*
He's the Quarter she backs up his note
The pushover Politician we deserve the vote

Writers believers lovers
and givers
Strangers are friends whats here
all depends
Getting mugged in Central Park
Grainy sugar you spark
Enjoying what I have today

The softer Rainy Lover
Whats here we are all here
Not elsewhere or over there
My Godly switch I'm here
Whats here you or me or who we believe to see let it be let it be
There are so many answers and those questions are here so reach don't start to preach show your love its whats here
Robin Carretti Dec 2016
He's singing
Bergdorf Blonde
Conde Nast Traveller
Rude or ****
Explode Bombshells.
He's singing I'm getting
married
Such a Pushover puppet?

Slave over the silken magnet
Oh so swift and swell let
the show begins

Those ritual love sin's
Miss Polly String smile say cheese
He's the Maneater enticing grins
His Trump Tower bell?
Oh! Hello Poetry
People like twin packing
Playgirl smooching
her lips pillow talk

The puppet stalk
their suitcases, but surprisingly
she falls down and trips
Play up your string's
Love act of rings
Her killer lace went into his face.
They all had a puppet inside.

A daredevil ride
Nowhere to hide
Las Vegas Nevada,
Like no other place.
She was in her prime
Diva,
Donna so Dollie, he had
a craving bank her they all
had to thank him
The foursome the Follie's
Do him
Torn to be so trendy
Such a spendy

Walmart of walnuts
Two amazing dollies
She's the magazine of
Italian Fendi.
Pulling her hair more flair
The whole shebang cashew's
Pushed by his split so
picky pecans.
How it went to her
Big little liar nephew's.
Like puppet curfews
  Hello, Poetry New.
The white wedding blue's
Magnifying big lip's.
He needed a Holly-doll
The next clue?
Silk strings taped up
That puppet took a mighty
long trip...

Did I say plastic puppet is real porcelain skin faces?

Playgirl's cries needed
a dominating diet
Hefner smoking jacket suit

What a demonstration,
pulling on hemming mini
skirt trims chances
dangerously slim
So condemning
caused a riot.
The other crowd what
Oscar Meyer Wiener.
Going to the Vet doggie collar he
was tied to be fit silk suit
Las Vegas show trainers.
Who got caught with the puppet
Honey tricked peanut butter playgirl
Puppet show went all hobbit
over "Twitter" mixed whirl
        
What a nut sometimes you feel
like a nut
sometimes you won't and she
knows you don't

The rest going to H---.
Must I B dreaming?

He's singing I'm your puppet man,
Elephant nose cleaned out the planter's
Such a big spender and tipper.
Brooklyn his name Lucas @ the circus!

Like a physic knows your inner thoughts,
hanging on a string.
Everything that comes out of his mouth is two!

I have a puppet surfing the internet
wrapped her around
Felt an undercurrent_ it was
like pieces of glass
soundproof,
his crafty fingers.

Is he doing the best he can?

He's pulling her madly
Puppet computer search
Penny the dreadful
He expects us to jump when
he's oversexed active
looking for his puppet chair,
in the back.
A ****-day puppet!
He's the pig face twilight zone
muppet's
Well doing the can-can two
Playgirl's
hit the fan
The puppets became
the Gentleman

  Playgirl's shuffling "Rose" deck
   Hollywood screen bedding
    Puppets skillful  making

        The Poem Day.
         Puppets pray
         String cheese display

Obsessed stories Puppets.

Playgirl's color gypsy Rose Leah  
Miss Natalie from the woods preach
Silken Marionette.  
So wrapped like someone's gift
But used thrifty bed
He's in his red-hot Corvette.
Instead of roses, his thing french brie
Stock market up and away tie
I rather have my pasta bow-ties
Swiss, the air she's the playgirl
  Swiss Alp's skiing
he ripped his pant's Swiss Alps hole.
Marilyn Monroe playgirl presidential
dancing on the Christmas pole
Love tropic Pineapple dole
  The bed red hot Corvette. console

Instead of roses, his thing was cheese.
"So Swiss" with holes of lace my face
I hate to burst your cheese,
He dragged his shirt open

Twice the fun playgirl she eloped
I became his string cheese pet!!
I'm not your string cheese.
Hello Godzilla, puppet collection
Bella bella Genie mozzarella

"Puppet overpriced sales
All your friends are a puppet male.
Make a wish blowfish

In all the year how I tracked men's nuts,
she had to string together nut job's,
eat a string cheese.
Polly didn't want animal crackers,
Groucho became like a ******.

The puppet master showing
his game piece
and pull on someone else's
This is kinda playful and with quite strings of an edge
You think you’ve broken me down
that I’ll never stand again,
you think with hateful words
you’ve landed the big win.
So you think you know me…
I’m a pushover because I’m kind
don’t underestimate,
I actually have a powerful mind!
You don’t know the whole of it
and never, you truly will,
unlike you, I could never hurt another
out of hatefulness or thrill!
You are powerful with judgment
and you think you give a great show,
so go ahead, pick up that rock
give it a good hard throw!
But, remember this sweetheart
actually, it’s something you should know,
karma pays back in triple
YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW!
I’d tread a little more lightly
if I were YOU,
all that hatefulness you put out
well, eventually darlin,
that bills gonna come due!
~
This Is Dedicated To My Troll With Love!
Merry Christmas!!
Hinata Dec 2014
Honey I tried,
Honey I cried.
Honey this is a vicious cycle,
Honey this is a disastrous cyclone.
Honey we aren't getting better,
Honey this sweet relationship is getting bitter.
Honey the only one that stands between us is you,
Honey I'm tired of my heart getting beaten black and blue.
Honey you can't see your own faults,
Honey you haven't seen all of my insults.
Honey you know better than to fight me,
Honey you know you can leave.
Honey stop crying and trying to make yourself innocent,
Honey you know I'm not falling for it.
Honey you think you have me won over,
Honey I'm not a stupid pushover.
Honey we know that this is because I'm crazy and you like pushing buttons,
Honey this relationship is nothing.
Honey I tried to make it something,
Honey I tried to give you everything.
But honey the only way I can is if you get out of the way,
Stop pushing me away.
Honey I tried to make it work,
Honey I tried to make it last forever.
But you fought everything I did to change it for the better,
Because of that, I'm done and you lost me forever.
Tying a string to loan
Coercing a poor country,
Under the yoke of poverty
To squawk and groan,
Also making
The noose tighter, tighter
So that aid it fails to garner,
Allow a hypocrite donor
To flog the receiver
Into a restricted domain
To every donor’s whim
Saying “Amen.”

Tragically, this way receiver’s
Development wishes
And growths’ talk
Will go up in smoke.

In such manner,
With malfunctioned cog,
Receiver turns
The tail of the donor dog,
.
On the other hand,
For donor’s
Geopolitical advantage,
With preferential treatment
The ingratiating donor’s pet,
Pampered, will enjoy
Jealously -strewn
Dream’s fulfillment
To its heart’s content,
While the pushover
Smothered, maltreatments
Has to suffer.

It is such strings
The pushover-made
Ethiopia managed to cut
To generate much-needed
Over 5000 Megawatt.
Megawatt, which commands,
On the back, many a pat.

In so doing
Ethiopia has set an example
Emerging countries
Could realize
Developmental take off
By own dabble
Ramming home donors’
Double standard is
What they can
Do without, while in
Birth cry bout.

Chopping the string
With a self-esteem knife
Ethiopia born GERD to life
Tapping Abay (Blue Nile)—
A confluence of rivers,
Which are rife.

Ethiopia is
Tapping its gigantic river
That originates from its soil
To do away with women’s
Back-breaking toil.

Ethiopia is harnessing
Its prodigal river
To avoid fetching firewood,
Chocked with smoke,
To prepare food.

Ethiopia is subduing
Its God-bestowed river
To outreach with light
Students that study
Late into the night
For want of
A reading lamp
That use smoky lantern
In far-flung corners of
The country’s
Schools’ map.

Ethiopia is
Forcing the river
Yield a hand
So that
Nation’ demand
Electricity—
Mushrooming industries’
Lifeblood—
Soon, will flow
Like an irrigating flood.

Ethiopia is
Taming the wild river
In a bid
Environment-friendly
GERD starts
Generating hydropower soon
To let the region enjoy
The unprecedented boon.

When GERD materializes,
The heinous, covetous
Donors’ pet ,
Which claims to date
The river is
Its exclusive right
Will be
Coerced to stop
Eclipsing the country’s
Affluence hope.

The less privileged
Round the globe
Which are
Under the same fate
Ethiopia’s
Development ******
Could emulate.

Soon Ethiopia will
Join the club
Countries marked
Industrial hub.

You know something?
Arm twisting
Is the mystery of the string!
So go for bootstrapping
Use shoestring.
Current unfolding
Ni5ha Mar 2015
Watch me burn
Watch me burn
As the world turns and turns
And you won't hear me say a word
I'd be silent as they take advantage
**** me with your fiery swords
I wouldn't scream to be heard
Leave my charred remains on the curb

These voices persist
Even when they seem to exist
They live in my imagination as a figment
I may shed a tear
Pain may be too much to bear
But in the end they still won't care

These voices
These voices speak
Their words pierce me so deep
Where it hits home
And I know that I'm alone
They kick me with spikes on their shoes
How could they be so rude
But I let them kick and let them **** me
Because I don't deserve sympathy

Here I am in the smoke
Suffocating here I choke
And I cry out woe is me
Tell the world my insecurities
They just shake their heads
And they leave you for dead
I look around and see no friends

These voices go on
Like an army so strong
And they talk for so long
They live in my head
Each one I already wed
And we all share the same bed
Anavah Nov 2018
When I saw her for the first time it wasn't admiration
It was awe mixed with a twinge of jealousy
Her perfection and her confidence intimidated me

When I first befriended her it wasn't just adoration
It was an obsession and a fixation
To be like her in thought and action
Till I learnt to be better than her without being enough
That was when the insecurity started
'Will I ever be enough?'

I wasn't enough at home, not fair enough or smart enough
I wasn't witty or flirtatious enough
I lacked guts and I lacked the temperament
Of a proper twelve-year-old.
I was a doormat and a pushover
Already coming undone at my seams
Trying to emulate perfection through blinded eyes
Every day I scoffed and surrendered to my picture of admiration
Trying to secure her own admission
'Will I ever be enough?'

Then she left me battling my own wars
Hers was to conquer new turfs.
I waited for a while, finally realizing
I was a ship without a captain, left to wander evermore.
I caught a new captain in a bystander who counted his lucky stars
I admired him for being there for me when I never was.
I tried to hold on to an unconsolidated bond of friendship
With a raging doubt piercing through my heart
'Will I ever be enough?'

Many came telling me my worth.
Many left ravaging my already battered heart
Many drank my colourless lifeless blood
Many left a wretched bluish mark
I shrivelled from the inside out
Bloating in the nausea of my being
Every day trying to put me together
Every day losing instead of winning.
One day finally I reached out
Knowing my salvation lies
I put everything behind me and cried out
Only to be put on the side.

That day I realized my worth
When she was hurt by my rejection
When she refused to give me a chance
When I had never received any ever.
My insecurities still lingered
But they were a part of me now
And I did not know how to do without.
I picked up the pieces that meant something to me
Even though she was no more there to see
Yet I knew that she was never enough
Never my horizon, never my turf
I had wings to reach farther
And my flight has thus
Now begun without her.

(c) Anavah 2018
This poem is autobiographical and written to my friendship with my childhood best friend. It is true that we parted ways and she was all I aspired to be for a greater part of my life but a part of me aspires to be more and that is all I strive to be.
judy smith Oct 2015
MANILA, Philippines - The public knows me as the Father of Philippine Franchising but what is hidden from the public eye is that I am a father of five sons and a daughter. This fact became very real to me again recently when my youngest son, Sam Gregory, got married.

Like I said, I have five sons and all of them are achievers and successful in their respective fields. My eldest son, Sam Benedict, for example, has a master’s degree from Kellogg and works for a top American company. My fourth son, Sam Christopher, on the other hand, got his master’s degree from Oxford and used to work for a top British conglomerate.

When my other sons got married, I was happy and proud as I could be; but when Greg got married I have to admit that there was a certain tug in my heart realizing that my little Sam was finally leaving the nest. I am not the sentimental type, but I guess every parent has a special place in his heart for his youngest.

But don’t get me wrong, Greg is no pushover. Being physically small, he did have his share of bullying when he was in school. But Greg knows how to deal with his problems. He befriended a number of his bigger classmates and that solved his problem in a snap. He may be small but he has a big heart.

Greg is idealistic and principled. He usually volunteers for civic and charitable activities and contributes to fund drives for disaster victims. My wife and I have accepted the fact that every time there is a typhoon, we can expect our cupboards to be cleared of canned goods and our cabinets purged of old clothes, which Greg would donate.

He follows traffic rules and regulations even when there’s nobody watching and even if following is not convenient for him. He saves energy. He recycles. He even convinced me and my wife not to use narra wood flooring in our retirement home.

Being a careful planner, he is the most prepared among our family for the “Big One.” But what I find most admirable is that he keeps two emergency kits in his car in case he finds himself in a situation where he might need to help others.

Greg is also romantic, creative and dedicated. When he was studying in Beijing, he would organize a virtual date with Charmaine Haw (who would eventually become Mrs. Sam Gregory Lim), who was in Manila. They would watch the same movie on the web and Greg would order movie snacks, which he would send to Charmaine’s house. The couple would also have virtual dinner dates where Greg would order similar meal courses, which would be delivered to Charmaine’s house and then they would chat via Skype while having dinner.

When the time came for Greg to buy his engagement and wedding rings, he refused to let us — his parents — help him. He used his own money despite being the one among his brothers who could least afford it, being the least salaried employee among them. He did this as a symbol of his love and commitment to Charm.

But when the wedding came I insisted that it should be a grand wedding.

To guarantee a great party, we made sure to have great food, a great place and great companions. Being an avid sci-fi fan, Greg already had an idea of a unique garden wedding. He wanted to transform the New Grand Ballroom of the Marriott Hotel into the forests of Avatar. To do this, the wedding stylist had to import a collection of trees, hanging plants, shrubs, flowers and other plants. The images projected on the giant 15-meter panoramic LED screen added to the reality of the scenery. It was a unique and original “garden setting” and was certainly a sight to behold and remember.

For the food, Greg was at his meticulous best to make sure that the evening’s feast was memorable. The dinner opened with a mouth-watering appetizer, lemon-spiced pan-seared scallop with tomato cucumber timbale in creamy ginger soya sauce followed by Manhattan clam chowder with cornbread dumpling. For the main course, we had the beef tenderloin prepared by the master chef of Cru Steakhouse of Manila Marriott Hotel, sea bass with roasted shallots, dauphin potatoes in perigourdine and mustard herb sauce.

The espresso-infused tiramisu and the white chocolate cheesecake with mango salsa served with piping-hot coffee completed the culinary feast.

With 800 guests, I would have to admit that we did splurge a little. But we also wanted the wedding reception to be an opportunity to thank the people who have been a part of our family. These are our relatives, friends and associates who have inspired, mentored and helped mold my children to be what they are today.

To my youngest son, Greg, and my new daughter, Charmaine — quoting from the Vulcan salute of the Star Trek saga (of which Greg is a big fan) — may you both live long and prosper!

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses

http://www.marieaustralia.com
Aditi Kumar Apr 2015
No.
I will not listen to you
When you say
I am too soft.
That my will is too easily bent.
That I apologize too much.
That I am what is wrong with this world.

I am soft
Because I want to be.
You toss and turn on your hard mattress of brutality.
Me,
I use my heart as a pillow at night, to get a good night's rest.

So let me sleep and dream in peace.
Loisa Fenichell Sep 2012
Boy left me feeling raw and pink, like the baby born a comma in the taxi
17 years ago. Boy left me feeling like Aunt, who didn’t know any better,
but still knew it all, and now she looks like a graveyard. When I was 14, I went
to her funeral, sat Shiva with her (my?) family, didn’t allow myself to cry, but I did.
Opened Photo Booth app. on my MacBook when I got home, because I didn’t know
what my tears looked like – I just wanted to see myself cry. I love crying,
and I love when other people cry. I think that I don’t like crying alone, but I do;
I keep people on speed dial, so that they can hear me cry. Boy used

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

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

for breakfast, along with Nutella. I’m 5’5”, and weigh 130 lbs., and buckle over
when I walk, because my crying weighs 50 lbs., so I push the Nutella
out of my stomach. The Nutella is in Boy’s stomach. Probably in
Girl with Brown Hair’s stomach now, too. I miss Aunt. I wish
she could eat Nutella with me. Next week, I’ll bring a jar of it to her grave,
and a camera. Cry and have a photo shoot, maybe, because I don’t know any better.
samasati Sep 2013
I must be incredibly wary
and alert
and I gotta follow my gut because there’s a reason to why
it aches
or jumps with excitement;
it knows
much more than my head does;
and I must hold myself firmly like a proud statue, but I can’t just stay in one place
I need to tiptoe on a tightrope
I mustn’t fall, but if I do, I mustn’t fuss
just get back up again,
just get on with it

I went to an art gallery this afternoon
and the theme of one small contemporary art room
was,
“just get on with it”,
(I decided that myself anyway);
there was a painting of an airplane, resting on snow,
that one was obvious
I said, “just get on with it, then, fly”
there was a painting of a snowy road,
that one was obvious too
there was a painting of a sad girl
again, obvious
but then there was a painting of a person
with a large smudge of green on his face, he barely had a face
and a large smudge of white on his waist, he barely had a waist;
I concluded,
“sometimes you don’t have a face and you just need to get on with it”
because my mood was easy breezy silly this afternoon;
but now I’m thinking
sometimes you lose your identity
and you just need to get on with it

I can barely take anyone serious when they ask the question,
“who am I?”
the answer is obvious if you allow simplicity into your heart,
“you’re what you are experiencing and feeling and being right now, and it’ll change all the time in every moment”
so,
I feel kind of commiserable
and much of a parody
for sitting in a busy mall foodcourt, with a cup of coffee I didn’t even buy at that foodcourt,
remixing an old song on garageband,
then looking up and realizing I’m surrounded by all of these kiwi strangers
and finally asking the question
“who am I”
oh I’m a lunatic, aren’t I?

I must be open, but not too open
and easy to get along with, but not too easy to get along with
I must catch a wave on the first try,
but if I wipe out, I mustn’t turn red;

I need to watch what I say
before I say it
but also find the courage to speak
when I’m shy
and I must be considerate
but not let people walk all over me

I can’t be a pushover, and I can’t be too much of a leader
because I don’t know what I’m doing
here;
I can love but I shouldn’t fall in love
at least for awhile
because I’m still high from the transition and I’m dubious of how
authentic and sincere
my falling in love
would be

worrying is the most unnecessary thing
money isn’t an issue
(right now)
and loneliness is a blessing
but it’s also a sickness
and I must remind myself that I’m worth not being lonely
and instead being free
and above all,
I am capable of anything I set my mind to,
even if I forget
“who I am”
or “what I wanna be”
above all,
I must always be me.
aya sakura Mar 2010
meadows that stays so green at spring
and so bared in autumn
magically white in winter
scorching and gold in the air of summers

perennial.

how do they do that?
to stay the same on the foundation
yet ever-changing on the surface.


what difference does it make really?
what kinds?
of the surcoats of hazel and acorns
or the blankets of snow on the slender branches
of trees?


don't they, even once
feel weary of all the undercurrents,
of shifting shapes of shadows?


and stand their ground
and shouted their demands
and push at intractable walls?


and flop down
and sift like flour
and grate like mozzarella?


to toss the gauntlet
say


'enough!'


doesn't anyone ever muses then
of whether the slideshows of nature
being flagrantly displayed and paraded
before their soon indifferent eyes
would feel of their performance.


but oh,
those poor meadows,
those poor meadows,
those pitiable meadows.


continue with your acts and scenes
that shall never pauses nor halt
oh no, no.


for you are impressive actors
on the forested stage
and the eyes, belligerent
yes, they are
will be watching the other way


never straight to your eyes
your artic, chilled
encasing a turbulent, melting, whirling
hot caramel core
yeap, right there on your irises and pupils.


so go on
go on


my delectable
my neglected
my pushover
my poor meadows.
Gwendolyn Feb 2015
I am a girl.
I have long hair and I love pretty things.
I wear make up and I probably spend too much time in the mall.
But all of that doesn't mean that I am a pushover.
Most people look at my blonde hair and smile and assume I must be dumb because I am nice. And I am so tired of being pushed to the side because my heels are higher than they should be and I love to dress up.
And I don't dress up for you, or him, or her.
I don't wear makeup so you think I'm pretty.
I do it for myself.
Not for the catcalls or the leering stares.
And just because I spend more time playing with lady bugs then sticking to the man doesn't mean my opinions don't matter.
My worth is not measured by how many people are afraid of me.
By the amount of hearts I break or the number of times my heart was the one breaking.
And when I said no I meant it.
And when I said stop, you didn't listen because you thought I didn't know what I wanted.
But I knew I didn't want you.
And you treated my body is on public display, like I was some statue for you to touch and admire.
But I am not a piece of artwork that is up for public discussion.
I may be indecisive, and emotional,
I may cry over the death of a book character in the middle of study hall,
But that is my choice.
It is my choice to not pretend that I am not constantly overwhelmed with one million different emotions.
And it is not your right to ask me about it.
Did anyone ask if Joan of arc was in her period when she went to war?
No because she was armed to the teeth with ax and sword.
But you know what, I have armor too.
It may be long flowery skirts, and beads in my hair, but it's mine.
And I will fight till my last breath if it means my body is mine.
If it means that her body is hers, and his body is his.
I don't need you to "protect" me.
I don't you constantly looking over my shoulder and thinking that what I am doing is not my choice.
I am not trying to make some speech about how I am better than you because I am not
We are equal in every way and you need to see that.
She is not better than him and he is not better than her and they are not better than them
And we, we are all the same we all have fears and we all cry sometimes.
It's not up to you which parts of my body are mine and which parts of my body are yours. Because it's all mine and none of it's yours.
Even if I let you close to it doesn't mean I'm giving you permission to touch it.
And you need permission to touch it.
To touch me.
But you didn't have it and you say that's my fault.
That it's my fault that you couldn't control yourself.
And I believed you,
But that was so long ago and I am so much better now.
I don't need you to make me feel important.
I am a girl.
I have long hair and I love pretty things.
But that doesn't mean that I'm a pushover.
Yeah, I'm quiet and polite.
And yeah maybe I bowed my head in submission that night when you told me I wanted this but not anymore.
Now I am going to look you in the eye and say
"No this is mine. The space between my legs is not public property. So you better find another park to play at."
I )  Transitivity

If X is a terrorist
And if Y supports X
Y automatically
Joins the blacklist.

II ) TPLF

By all accounts
TPLF is
A marked terrorist
For holding
Mirror to devil
Engaging in all acts
Revoltingly evil.

A terrorist why?
Because
Now in the open,
Now on the sly
Nonstop it labors
The innocent suffering
Lacerating pain
To die.
It either kills
Or sponsors
The killing of toddlers
Elders,
And women with
A bun in the oven
More often.

To maximize, selfish
Political objective,
Its duty,
TPLF knows no pity.
Its head
A box empty
Like a child naughty
Make noises
To swap
The victimizer &
The victim
And tip the balance
In the global
Political roadmap.

Long before
ENDF’s law–enforcement
Operation
Three out of 5
Women in Tigray
Were subject
To ****
Many heard the
Report agape.
Happily,
The response from
The west was
Tossing it off
Like a ladies hair
Not tied
On the nape.

Pillaging food aid
Many were the
Instances TPLF its
Impish army it fed.

III) America

From
TPLF’s inception
To its tyranny
We were on the ball
That is why
We are mourning
Its demise &
Catastrophic fall.

Before our eyes
TPLF stands tall
‘cause it saw to
Our dictates all,
When we asked it
A room
In Ethiopia’s politics
It used to
Give us a hall.
For our satisfaction
It was on the toes
It sleeves to roll.

“TPLF
(Dear Meles Zenawi)
Our soldiers in Somalia
Are suffering
Ignominious defeat
Forced with their tails
Between their legs
To retreat.
Valorous march and  
Invade Somalia
‘YES’  it said
To diplomacy
Longstanding relation
Having  little
Or no idea.”

We know
Very well
TPLF, suffering
Death knell,
Is past master
In terrorism,
Not in store
Even in hell,
Seeing its deeds
That everyone
Effortlessly
Could tell.

Devoid of
Mental health
TPLF was out
In East Africa
To spell death.

It was adverse
To peace brokers.

When TPLF said
An election result
It conducted was
Hundred % a hit
We (Susan Rice)
Laughed till
Our sides were
To split
But we showed
A green light
“Go ahead
Do it!”

To Bin laden
We showed
No mercy
But around
A horseshoe
Table with TPLF
You, peace-seekers &
Peace keepers,
Have to sit
With the
Worst terrorist
Defeated, exposed
On the retreat.

To meet our ends
We use
Carrot and stick
To terrorist
The former
And stick
To the latter.

Also
Pulling off
A gigantic dam
By own head, arm
Defying our interest
Our arrogance,
Our image
Ethiopia did harm.
This way Egypt
Our bargaining chip
Is slowly but surely
Getting out of
Our grip
So on Ethiopia
, our pushover, let us
Use a sanction whip.
Ethiopia we have
To flog, to beat
Before it zooms
Africa’s head
To the East.

We wrecked down
Many nations
Under the name
Of peace waging war
From Libya
To Afghanistan far
Unless the
Global community,
Own citizen &
Specially the east
Our action bar
We are out
World’s peace
To mar.



////
America's latest action on Ethiopia to twist arm is unacceptable
Just Melz Nov 2014
I used to compromise often...
That's why I've been so hurt,
Always giving a man just what he wants
Never getting what I really need.
So, I'm done being a pushover...  
From now on,
I'm getting what I want first
Then possibly giving in
You know what?
From now on,
I'm gonna be a *****...
You've been forewarned...



Astra Zenneth Jul 2017
It all seems hopeless
But I see your face and know
Those evil eyes you give to me
Are really all for show
You stab me in the back
But I'm happy to be your sheath
Honey, I'm just here to love you
I can take the heat
You may be a traitor
And you may be a con
But I'm here to stay forever
Do what you want, I won't catch on
2017
Stacy Mills Mar 2017
I'm a mom
I have two jobs
It seems I'm working
all the time
If not on the job
on my family
I wouldn't say I'm beautiful
But I have my moments
I wouldn't say I'm smart
But I have my moments
I wouldn't say I'm talented
But I have my moments
I despise drama
But it can't be avoided
I yearn for my soul mate
But that can't b found
Some days I'm depressed
And most days I'm not
I wouldn't say I'm a *****
But I have my moments
I wouldn't say I'm unkind
But I have my moments
I wouldn't say I'm a pushover
But I have my moments
I think everyone is a little of everything
With flecks of nothing
Smeared in greys and blacks
Speckled with rainbows and sun
A little lost
A little found
A best friend
A worst enemy
I wouldn't say I make sense
But I have my moments
I wouldn't say I'm an idiot
But I have my moments
I wouldn't say I know what I'm doing
But I have my moments
Maybe I'm too bossy
Maybe I'm a bad mom
Maybe I'm  A natural born leader
Maybe I'll fail at everything
Maybe one day I'll get it together
Maybe I am doing everything right
I wouldn't say ..........
but I have my moments
DT Brewer Mar 2019
Come as you are
You are my bright, shining star
Am I really up to par?
Do you want to take this far?

He’s as cute as a button
Always dresses in blue cotton
Love how he is funny and sarcastic
Gets a kick out of my being dramatic
Voice like an angel, body like the devil
You really get me.  Want to take it to the next level?

He calms my panic
Makes my heart feel gigantic
He points me left or right
when I lose direction
He is my dreamy knight
and always showers me with affection

Sweet puppy dog eyes
An adorably perfect smile
You can easily melt me and hypnotize
While  sipping your chamomile
It was kind of love at first sight
Didn’t really know what was wrong and how to feel right
Until I met you and now I finally know what to do
You are my absolute dream come true

You are my best friend and lover
You make me feel like no other
You are certainly nobody’s pushover
That conflict with Ronnie should blow over
The truth is that you mean the world to me
You are the showman and the Cabaret’s Emcee
And for your next role as future husband to me
Oh how very happy we will be!
If Schitt’s Creek’s David’s longing gazes could talk.
galen treger Mar 2010
I tried so hard to reach you
But I can’t seem to break through
You continue to keep
Falling
The harder I try
The faster you fall
I’m ready to
Give up on you
I don’t know what else to do
It’s like I’m screaming
And you hear me, but you aren’t listening to me
You love the lies you tell yourself
And your mind thinks they are true
Because of how much you repeat them
Aloud and in your head
How dangerous.
You feel trapped
Not knowing what to do
So many things go wrong
But what you don’t get
Is under the shapeless words and I’m sorry’s
You know the real truth
You can fix your wrongs
And make them right
It seems that so much has gone wrong
That you are giving up
But it’s the wrong time for that
You tell yourself that I don’t care about you anymore
Yet another one of those lies
Cause if that was the truth
I wouldn’t still be around
You and I are living proof
That love is real
That love exists
But we’re also proof
That nothing is perfect
You get what you earn
You get out the same amount you put in
And right now
You are experiencing the cold truth
You have
No job
No money
No pride
No self confidence
No trust
From anyone
Is that how you want to live?
Seriously think.
Pay check by pay check
Bill by bill
Excuse after excuse
Borrowing knowing you can’t return
Being lucky as hell
To have just enough
Think.
Because as of right now
Your words mean nothing
Unless there is an action to back them up
I always say
“I’ll believe it when I see it”
And a cliché that fits
Actions speak louder than words
It’s true.
I wish for you to do better
I help you all I can
But I ran out of sympathy
I’m sorry.
And I’m not sure what to do
You should stop telling me that I need to prove myself to you
Because it is most definitely the other way around
I have never done anything
That would make you not trust me
I don’t break my promises
And I don’t forget about you, ever.
And now, I am killing myself from the inside out
For now, forget that you have me
And your mother
And your grandparents
And ryan
And all you have now is you
All your luck has run out
I don’t know what I’ve been doing all this time
There’s so much I feel you’ve stolen from me
Time
Money
Feelings
Tears
Effort
And don’t get me wrong
I have expressed/given you all of that out of my love for you
But I feel drained.
I feel like even when I have nothing
You continue to pry.
And that frustrates me deeply
I don’t want to feel this way
And you can’t change for anyone but yourself
I feel scarred.
I can’t keep thinking
Wondering
Worrying
WHEN?
When will you change?
And keep a job
And get your life to where it should be
And be able to be independent?
And be free of borrowing, pills, and everything else you need
If you live the life you’ve lead
You’ll never get to what’s in store for you
You were dealt a certain hand
And you need to make decisions based on that
Not on what you think should have happened.
History repeats itself
And when I say be careful
I really mean it.
And please, when I talk about my past
Don’t get mad, and say “sweet”
Cause it means something to me
Which you need to respect
Ryan and I go way back
He’s my best guy friend
And even though it’s unfortunate he’s your little brother
How do you think he feels?
About you being his older brother
In this situation
Just think about the fact that
Things that don’t matter to you
Could mean a whole a lot to someone else
If it weren’t for ryan, I probably wouldn’t know you
Think about that maybe
Life is more then us.
My life can go beyond you.
I seem to keep telling myself
I’m done
And If so,
I won’t be around the drugs
And the lies
And the emotional obliteration
That has worn me down
We fight so much
Because I have lost all tolerance
I am no longer a pushover.
You are never going to win this war
Because you don’t understand
I’m not against you.
I’m trying to help you
And you just use me for support
You just think everyone around you
Will make up for your laziness
Poor decisions
And lack of effort to do anything
Things won’t just fall into place
You have to make things happen
On your own.
There are so many obstacles you face
But some you create
Inebriating yourself is IMMATURE.
It doesn’t make the problems go away
Or make reality disappear
And when it wears off
You are right back to where you were
And how you were feeling
Is it really worth it?
It makes you look like a coward
Dependant
And helpless
But you’re more than that
When you blow coke
And smoke ***
And whatever else you do
And you lied to me and I didn’t find out
That’s no accomplishment
Cause you can’t fool yourself
And you can’t fool god
Under exaggerating the bad things you do
Doesn’t make it right
Or better
Or more okay because you only did a little bit, a couple times, maybe.
Don’t tell me you stopped smoking cigs because it will make me happy
Tell me when you have really done it
Because it should make you happy
And proud
You can’t careen through life
Just doing enough to survive
Doesn’t cut it.
Through these months
You’ve done just enough to keep me here
I am all that you have worked for
I look at you in distressing anger
Everything you do affects me
Mentally
Physically
And emotionally
I have a notion
That you are afraid to ask for help
Besides money
I can’t see you not succeed
I’m just that kind of person
I don’t need tangible items
And gifts
And to be spoiled to know you love me
Wealth means nothing to me
Don’t try to buy me back into loving you
So baby please
Live your life to its fullest
Do everything to your full potential
And just please get your **** together
Because I don’t want to see us apart
And I know you can do it
I have full faith in you
And you always tell me
How I am the only one that matters
And only my opinion counts
I need you to put in a truthful endeavor
Your love for me emanates from your smiles
And hugs
And kisses
And I don’t want to lose it
So for our sake
And for the safety of your future
THINK.
Take these words
And think about them
Cause I may forgive you one last time
You have had too many chances
And have completely ****** them all up.
Really think about what you are doing when the time comes to make a decision
And don’t make them because of me
Make them because you feel that even though its not what you may want
It’s what you have to do
To help yourself get out of being used to no daily routine
And dependence on others
And be a new
Independent
Clean
Successful
Happy
Mentally and emotionally stable
And most important
Be you.
I love you Justin Hurley Aronica
And I will love you forever
But it’s solely up to you
Whether or not I will be able to share my love with you
I didn’t know what love was
Until I met you
And now that we have experienced this deviation
I know what true love is
And it can’t be demised.
Dorothy A Jun 2010
In the park
I saw you
And how could I resist?
I was always a pushover
for a sweet face
Squirrel!
Persistent, little thing,
aren't you?
That innocent look
Big, bright eyes
and a bushy tail,
twitching your nose
as you scurry about me...
You beg for a peanut,
knowing very well
what a sucker I am
for a sob story
Anon Y Mous Jun 2014
In another life,
I would not be the girl
I am today.

I would not be
too pale
too freckley
too fat
too awkward
too lonely
too quiet
too much of a pushover
too oily
too pimpley
too plain.

In another life
I imagine myself
as a silent assassin.
With power and might;
I glide the rooftops
and dominate the night.

In another life
I am a sassy bad girl.
I'd pop off in seconds,
and attack with cunning skill,
so that none would mess with me,
unless they'd want to get killed.

In another life
I am a thin and hollow body,
a nameless maiden who roams
halls of white tile.
Donned in a buckled down
white jacket that crosses
at the arms so I constantly
get to hug myself.

In another life
I am not
the girl I am today.
I would be someone,
with a story worth telling.
Jonny Angel Jul 2015
It was classic,
just like Delphi said it would be.
Bright lights
(I mean bright),
yellow walls
(shades of *****),
a low hum
(in the bass range).
Mister Suit
sporting a razor-thin mustache
sat stoic at a long black table
carrying a wry grin,
his eyes shades of pitch.
They unshackled me,
hands pushed me down
into a chrome chair
with a firm red leather cushion.
Screams came through the wall
from the room next to us.
I sat there just as stoic
across from him
with a wry smile
of my own.
It felt like a scene
from a stereotypical sci-fi flic,
it wasn't though.
This was as real as it gets,
these guys meant business.
Guys like me were trouble
for the Control Boys.
They'd find out soon
I wasn't a pushover.
Kaylana Brown Apr 2013
Beauty is only skin deep, 
your beauty is not based upon
what you drive weather it
be a Camaro or a Jeep.

     Beauty is based upon
 who you are as an individual.
  You may be a pushover, a nice 
person or a straight up tool.

   Beauty does not determine your
self worth.  Remember you're not 
the only being of this earth. 

   Beauty is not just your face,
beauty is your morals, 
your value, or your grades, it doesn't 
matter. Not everyone is an ace. 

   Your time to shine will come.
Beauty is not just a pretty face
Brent Kincaid Jun 2015
It rained all day that Tuesday
When Link McCoo hit town.
He checked into a rooming house
And began to look around.
He found the most run-down dive
And pulled himself a chair.
He took one look around to see
Who else was drinking there.

Nobody much noticed him
Except for Esther Masterson,
And she walked right over to him.
She knew she’d found herself a good one.
She asked him to buy her a drink
And he shook his head slowly no.
He said he wasn’t in the renting mood
So she might just as well go.

Esther like the way he looked
That he wasn’t to be a pushover.
She moved her chair next to him
And slyly told him, “Move over.”
She said, “I’m not a working girl
I own this stink-hole of a place.
So, being seen with the likes of me
Is not some kind of a disgrace.

That started them as something hot
Flame hot enough to set fire.
Nobody looking at the two of them
Could miss the heat of that desire.
Then, about a month later on,
Johnny Wacklin came back to stay
He and Esther were once a thing
And he was here to have his way.

But Esther had moved on by then
And told Johnny right up front.
Johnny paid no attention, said
“It don’t matter what you want.”
He grabbed her hand and dragged
Nearly taking her off her feet.
Link came in right about then
Knocked Johnny into his seat.

Link tucked Esther behind himself
And he warned Johnny not to try
Or he would be leaving there
With no time to say goodbye.
Johnny was always long on mean
But pretty much short on bright.
He figured he could whip Link
In a short but brutal fight.

So, they squared off and circled
And scowled for a few feet.
Link punched Johnny in the throat
And knocked him back into his seat.
Choking Johnny still attacked
So link kicked him in the knee.
He said “I don’t play slap and cry.
I don’t fool with those who attack me.”

Link and Esther have stayed there
As two knitted into just the one.
The bar has cleaned up clientele
And is a place for having fun.
Johnny Wacklin went away and
Spent some time in a clinic.
I can say he deserved what he got
Without being branded a cynic.
Shari Forman Feb 2013
Paula is the pushover,
She always says, “Yes”,
But to my very opinion,
She’s a ***** little mess.

Simon is the insulting one,
Who always thinks he’s right,
He’ll argue with the judges,
And will always start a fight.


Randy is the growlin’ one,
He will always give an ace,
But sometimes ya gotta give people,
A little more space,
Uh!
I'm not very strong, so to speak
I'm merely a girl refusing to sound weak
Often condescending; narcissism in full glory
But every action taken was never without a story

What is it, you might ask, do pray tell
If curious is what you are, then very well I shall
I am seasoned, scarred, battered and bruised
Torn, tattered and worn out from use

This you know, you've been there before
One too many times we've walked out the door
We both have wounds, you and I
I've grown tired and my tears have run dry

This won't work, I've heard them all say
But never you mind, I'll be okay
A fighter now, a pushover before
I gotta be strong before I lose even more

A chanced encounter, that's what you are
Could he be different? I wondered from afar
Conversations over coffee, what a great start!
But I've grown accustomed to guarding my heart

It's not that I don't trust, nor that I don't care
My past has hurt me and my mama said beware
Risks have been taken, perhaps a little too much
So please understand as to why I am such

Despite all that, you've got me thinking
Things could be better, if only I kept believing
Because I've grown fond of our playful banter
The time is mine, and that's all that matters
Honest
He who doesn't work, works **** or just can't commit
He homeless
He an affair and a **** good fix
****** with a tendency to show underwhelming ****
Twisted into nicety by such anger at the human, the wants
Good at *** when in love
Un-abused
Un-poisened
One of my best mates like
Dyslexic thick ****
A problem
Step child and real life son, grandson always, always, grandson
eldest unappreciated, underestimated, paranioder? Paranoidist.
One of the needers of therapists
Panicked by past
Fractured by future
A depressive, doesn't drink, do drudgery like drugs
A fearfull mess mummy's boy
Fatherless
Fathered less
A letdownshowoff
overconfident,
Anxious, ex husband, probable poofter, please Goddot, please, let he be a cheater  
A ex punk, definite *****, pushover, almost poet
So easily hurt, yet never hurts
My love one. (Cary you Guardian)
Too damed romantic
Cant read but by gosh buys books
Genius
artistic, Autistic, an idiot and just another bad student
manish
Little Boy
child
Unable to be alone and not a good flatmate
Justifier of the almighty grey areas,
The cheated...

the Strong willed.
Ginsberg made me do it
Theia Gwen Feb 2014
There's a part of me
With fantasies of who I want to be
A part that wants to live my life,
Take risks,
Go anywhere, everywhere
Just to get away from here
Let go of my past
And my scars,
Start anew,
Learn new things and find what's true
Eat when I'm hungry
Then stop when I'm satisfied
Start a conversation with strangers,
Be a leader instead of a passenger
This is who I would love to be

But then there is who I really am
The part of me who's always ******
The girl who can't stop dwelling on the past
And is scared of the future
And she's not to fond of the present either
Always expecting another disaster
Who stays in bed all day
Only getting up to binge and purge
Who can't even do simple things without having an anxiety attack
Can't even use a phone, how ****** up is that?
Who'll never go anywhere
Because she can't escape the thoughts she has
She'll always be a follower
Forever a **** pushover
She looks in the mirror and hates herself
And that girl will always be me
Vale Luna Jun 2017
Society tells you to be yourself
Then judges you
Cuz it's not right to act like someone else
It's good to be new
And yet at the same time, we shake our heads
“Don't stand out in crowds.”
So please don't start an unpopular trend
Just keep your voice down
Resist the urge to be innovative
Just go with the flow
But still we claim that the life you should live
Has to be your own

Cuz a ****** is a classified tease
Or too gross to touch
But anything more and you meet the needs
To be called a ****
And don't let yourself be a pushover
For jerks to use you
But if you speak up to find your closure
You're considered rude
Of course we say true beauty’s internal
That looks don't matter
But we're quick to lust for the external
Judging who's “hotter”
We love to support having opinions
But on the other hand
Ones who disagree should be imprisoned
Cuz differences are banned
We state that Jesus loves all his children
No need for hateful tags
But all homosexuals, stay hidden
Cuz “God despises ****”

Criticizing others is essential
For mankind to sink
Next time you decide to be judgemental
Please just stop and think.
Fight the contradictions
I'm sorry
That you feel the need to control.
I'm sorry
That I'm not a pushover.
I'm sorry
That you left me behind.
I'm sorry
That you didn't accept me.
I'm sorry
That I'm not sorry at all.
©JessicaWright
Is a word...it has a meaning but each to its own,
I. Am stronger than you think
Stronger than I look...

My mental strength is minimal and im breaking down losing the plot

Physically Im weak and have nothing to me, a pushover

Im expected to be strong
If im not strong for us and those around me who will be?
Im expected to be strong when im not
Yet I push that fact aside and put a smile on my face so it pleases you

Are you happy now?
Look im stronger...for you...for us hehe...


I may be more broken than I appear
But then again I may appear more broken than I am...
...whose to even know anymore

To truly smile....I have forgotten how
When Im going insane with everything in my head now
Ive gone mad inside and I need some clarity
The only person who can help me is me...
...isnt it a pity Im too lost in my head to figure out how

We'll work on it
Until then I will be strong for you and for us
I am not strong...
...I am you'll find actually quite quite weak...
leeaaun Jan 2023
blame is like a posion
no one wants to carry its weight
so they pass it onto you
as you're considered
a pushover
in their language
Ryan Holden Jan 2018
For every little step
a mountain to climb,
an ocean so deep
we are yet
to explore.
In this life I know
that all I can give
is an energy,
that never stops bouncing -
if I can do good
and set an example
for others -
even if I’m a pushover,
I’d rather do it
smiling at the ones
I create
every day
The world is huge, and each of us is a mere dot. So impact who you can around you everyday and make them smile!
H Phone Mar 2018
I wish I was strong
I wish I was strong enough to get out from under the comfort of my sheets
Or the warm water washing over my body in the shower
I wish I was strong enough to open my books,
Instead of listening to the same five songs again
I wish I was strong enough to get over a loss,
Be it a failed exam or a boss I can’t beat in a video game
I wish I was strong enough to help my friends
Because that's the person I strive to be
I wish I was strong enough to keep that job


I wish I was strong enough to like my own works
But it’s hard to when they look like this
No rhyme scheme or metaphors
Only thing this poem has got going for itself is that repeating stanza
Real clever or whatever
You call it slam poetry
But you might as well call it sham poetry
Slam poetry
Because you need to be slammed drunk to enjoy your poems
And don’t even pretend like you didn’t notice
How no one seems to give a **** about this
This series of ‘works’ that you’ve been putting out
Where all you do is ******* swear and shout
At yourself
******* hell

I bet your last line would have been
“I wish I was strong enough to love myself.”
Boo ******* hoo
Too ******* bad
Because you’ll only love me the moment you realize
That what I say is true
I’m not gonna say that I’m only rude
Because I love you
I hate your guts too
much for something so…
Sappy
You’re a bit of a sentimental, right, boo?
If sentimental meant pushover

Criticism!
Sorry, didn’t mean to scare
Oh wait, no, I don’t really care
Because even you’re aware
How you’ve locked yourself in an echo room
And the moment someone tries to break through…
“Don’t worry, I can take it.”
And then you write something edgy like this
You can’t take advice for ****
Because that’s your ******* deal
You’ve got tonnes of people giving you the advice that you need to heal
And you ignore every single one of them
Acquaintances, friends, family
And what about me?
DO I REALLY NEED TO ******* YELL TO GET THROUGH TO YOU

But It’s pointless anyway
You’re on auto-pilot already
Just cut the act and write your cringy addendum poem
We’re done here
...
August Dec 2012
I feel the resin
Coat the inside
Of my lungs
As I say,
"Do not mistake
Me being
Polite
As me being
A pushover."
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
Noah Sep 2014
I listened to an old queer speak words of encouragement and wisdom last night
Their glasses slid down their nose,
their shoes were for comfort,
and they talked about their average, 9 to 5 job

But even so
as I leave their words shake in me
like the rattling of the old busses that speed
up and down the hills to my apartment
to my home
where the words follow me.

I bathe in them.

I light them like incense and inhale the smoke
I carve them like orange slices and **** their juices off my fingers -
   the closest I've gotten to *** with another person
   or at least the closest I've felt
Because with this I can breathe them in like oxygen
instead of pushing it out of my lungs and
out of my clothes and out of my mind.
In a way my asthma is cured.

I believe in these words.
I clutch them like my keys, like pepper spray
and they keep me safe just the same - maybe more
   (i still have trouble walking in the dark
    and i wonder if he does too
    if he ever did
    if his environment of 160 people fuels the same fear i have within thousands
    or if he feels as secure enough in his "passing" as he seems.
  
    i've never heard his voice.)

As I cried out in my mind
a man cried out an echo in his seat
and though we cried for different things it was the same
"Oh god oh god."

-

I wrote this on a bus three days ago
and now I don't even remember the words that had touched me so deeply
and I don't remember why that man was shouting
and I have heard my friend's voice and it was beautiful.
I think.
My memory is fuzzy.
I wonder if I even want help.

I find that I **** the emotions from things but
I absorb none of the words, the meaning
I read dense materials and listen to wise speakers and
I feel empty and clean and in touch with profoundness
But I leave realizing I learned, I gained
Nothing.
I am fooling myself.
I've always been an actor.

But now
I find I don't have to act. Not as much.
I have a few more scenes, a few more calls to make,
where I'll raise my pitch an octave or two so the adults think I'm polite
and then I'll drop the act until it's Christmas or the Fourth
and I'm surrounded once again by the boggy South and all its creatures
    (my relatives, to put it nicely)
the bigoted undertones to all they say swelling into great Alabama lakes.

I ride across their words, across their lakes, on tubes tied to boats
and like tubing I allow myself to be slung across it all
until I'm hurled around a too-tight turn.
I crash hard into their words until I'm drowning in them,
choking in them and wishing for air
before I'm bobbing back up again
Alive but bruised and breathless.

I climb right back on to do it again.
I don't know any other way.

-

I listened to that old queer encourage me to
"Get out of Georgia,
get out of the South"
just like every old queer before them
and every time I feel the urge to flee immediately.

I'm prone to suggestion, easily twisted,
I take after my mother in that way
A prime cut grade-A pushover
Malleable in the worst of ways,
And I fear that I've suggested my way into my own identity
That I'm so suggestible that just the words
"Transgender"
"Asexual"
Sculpted me into something I'm not
I worry that I'm pretending, that there's nothing queer about me
That I've literally been pushed into place by nothing.

I wonder then if that's the case
Why couldn't I have read the words
"Successful"
"Independent"
"Motivated"
and let them push me to do something, to be something.

If I had read those words enough,
maybe I'd be out of the South by now,
Instead of stuck here trying hard to remember what else that old queer said
so I can obey it instantly and without question
Meggn Alyssa Feb 2014
The course book says psychology, AP
I'll take it, people are fascinating
There are many jobs in the psychology field
I can be a psychologist... I would like that
Here's all these facts and stats and methods
Wow this is a lot of work...
Here is your A at the top of the class
But I'm doing just fine... this is something I love

I don't love it now
when I have to grow up fast
solve everyone's problems
because I'm too kind
too sweet
too much of a pushover to let people suffer




****** I can't even finish writing this

— The End —