"rathers" poems
12/30/2013
I Met the **** Hater
Have you ever seen someone so beautiful
that you felt like crying?
Have you ever felt so utterly Disgusted by someone
that you wished they were dying?
Do you think I feel gay guts and gayness in my genes?
Or did society manufacture me - one of their gay liberal machines.
I'm not sure which is better,
Either way you'll make me a martyr.
But I'll be your Hester Prynne baby
with my Big Gay Letter.
I cannot erase
that look on his face.
when he told me **** **** Go Away.
I'll punch you in the face just for being Gay.
A separation of message and mind.
Hateful judgment is not hard to find.
When I stand in the shower,
or sit down on a park bench,
I'm a **** to him clear as gay.
It's like he thinks I ate some magic flower.
My girlfriends don't fare much better - to him called a bar *****
This guy is the part of society that makes being gay scary to say.
He thinks Gays making out in public can't be allowed.
He thinks Legalized gay marriages should be disavowed.
He thinks Animal *** ********** and ****** are because of gays.
He thinks Gay **** between two women might be more okay.
He thinks *** should **** more gay people.
He thinks Criminalizing ****** would make things more equal.
He thinks Adam's choice of Eve or Steve is all that matters.
He doesn't care about myself, or your heart's fragile rathers.
This man is the **** Hater.
Not a rare breed at all.
He could be your waiter,
or your teacher,
maybe even your sales assistant at the mall.
I Met the **** Hater,
while I made out with a guy at the bar.
The **** Hater was kinda old, yet strong and tall.
But I didn't fall
down.
or become dehumanized.
When I caught a glimpse of his face
and saw that utter look of Disgust
that I just cannot erase.
I saw it in his face - the **** Hater's
'Homo Hate.'
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC
i think in a way,
i can sense sadness.
and even though it's different for everyone,
sadness has a way of sensing me, too.
i've always been attracted to those types of people.
you know the kind i'm talking about.
with their sad smiles, and deep eyes.
the kind of people who have a story,
the kind of people who have scars.
those people are my kind of people.
you, first, with your parents divorce,
and your bottled up rage,
and the bruises you gave to me in the middle of the night,
in the bedroom on the first floor,
while everyone else was asleep.
the sadness you carried turned into rage,
and i fought to keep you in check.
and then you,
with your closet secrets,
and the dust swept under your rug.
your sadness seeped through those guards on your eyes,
and found its way right into my heart.
you etched yourself into my life,
until the sadness you felt,
i felt myself,
and your soft touches,
and sweet words,
melted into me.
and then it was all gone,
taken away in a flash,
and you walked away without a second glance.
you, next,
with your ever lasting smiles,
and modest attitude.
you never understand how much fun you are,
because you're so focused and caught up in being sad.
i saw stories in your eyes,
and the more stories i heard,
the more i learned why you were sad all the time.
but i wish the most for you, and i wish more than anything that you could be happy.
but sad people well,
they're made to be sad.
but you kept me in check.
we would talk for hours,
about pet names, and would you rathers,
and truths that i told no one but you.
and for awhile there,
i thought you could make me happy.
but our sadness together was too much,
and i ran and hid from the happiness
that i might have found in you.
you, finally,
you weren't the saddest,
or the happiest.
in fact, when i met you,
i didnt even think you were a sad person.
until i saw what she did to you,
how she broke you.
you are sad,
but because of your secrets.
because there's nothing else for you to do but hide.
you should be able to be yourself,
and live your life how you want to.
thats the thing though,
about sadness,
us sad people,
we cling to it.
we hold on to it.
and we learn to depend on it.
because,
"you can get addicted to certain kind of sadness."
and thats that.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 7:30 PM UTC
My whirligig giggling and jiggling in an ever gyroscopic balancing act of spotting the to and fro, does sometimes wobble recklessly, even falls down. Revealing, revolving, evolving windy patterns and magnetism that spin pointedly upon an axis of gender nonspecific intention, it gets back up and twirls again. Whirls again, girls again, boys again, toys again, an accelerator from beginning to end, how can I be propellant and then, marry, tie it down? Letting loose these inhibitions of how such a perfect plaything may be too perfect, too divine a contraption is scary whirlwind to put my head around. Yet, this desire to go with it, oscillate and make rounds seems truer than any boxed in version of wooden wouldn't I rathers. So there it is, to grace a pirouette with stable partner, might be a portion of the dance, picturesque, but more ensemble pieces may follow. These too add to the brilliant ballet, and we are in it together.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 12:21 PM UTC
genius is snapping at my dragons. feel free to ask them. they’ll barter hard tongues
and won't apologize for mad hatters. but this. This matters.
it ungathers. It unravels and the sunscape chafes on the void's tatters.
but it rathers you know me now,
than meet me at crossroads.
it's your call.
come
from your unexamined life
and be sitting with your eyes
like two mouths.
they will speak when spoken two;
when i give you all...
and you want me
too.
hello. my name is unsung. and That's the song.
don't get me wrong; but right your vessel -
and
this ocean will float your devils
with your nephelim. with your unbridled elan.
be sweet. keep your feet unplanted, but be enchanted by the road you're on.
find me in the thicket of unbearable seeing.
you will be me -
for the moment you release
' things '
and imprison Nothing.
of course
you'll need a cauldron
to rehearse your heresies
as often.
may i suggest
a new
guess ?
a question that suits you
better than " what the **** ? "
and has feathers ?
can we do that
and love each
other ?
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
all these are cliches
like
should've,
could've,
would've,
might
have beens,
would rathers...
can't you just say 'regrets'?
because everything you chose to happen
happened for a reason
and the reason
was you chose it
and it was indeed a stupid
choice
and you'll never admit it was
because you'll never learn from
your mistakes
you'll just repeat them
until they become right
because everything changes,
everything bends,
except for you,
except for me,
who'll forever melt in your
alibis
Jul 15, 2010
Jul 15, 2010 at 4:58 AM UTC
Lisas and Cheryls in halter tops walk the
Halls of Stoughton High full
Throttle, coiffed fleece fiercely feathered,
Tonys and Tims trawling in tow, toting
Texts.
Tims and Tonys slip
Slyly away, skip shop, talk
**** **** a doob behind
Bob’s Baitshop’s garbage dunes, tunes of
Geils and Seeger and Stones, applaud
Lisas and Cheryls, laud deserving
Donnas and Dianes (but dude, don’t
Let on!)
See,
A solitary Tony takes to one shapely
Cheryl’s sultry swagger, staggers, blathers
His rathers, turning her hair’s fair feathers
A-flair, she helping his hand higher up her hip, her
Cup, her concupiscent luscious lower lemon-lacquered lip, he agog, a *****
Dog with a bone. And a libidinous loner
Lisa prefers a particular turgid Tim, digs
His Doors tee tucked
In to tight tan cords, affords
Herself a longer linger as his fingers
Dangle, thick thumbs hooked in belt. Looked at,
Felt, ***** his hip, flips a nod, draws a
Sneer, paws her rear, she his
Haunch, he steady and
Staunch, Steady and
Staunch
Not gonna
Launch
Steady
gawdamnsunuvabitch!
Thaws the sneer
Right there.
High gears it outta here.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
my nightly escape...
I'll lie down, shut my eyes
and my world is my own again,
and you're all over it again...
I'll dream of you again
and wish for eternal sleep
where lies my perpetual bliss
where lies my favorite kind of high
where lies my 'would rathers'
which are my 'will nevers'
as soon as I hear the alarm
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 6:12 AM UTC
My lyrical ability limits you mental flexbility
Swift as agility hinders there intellectual capacity
Lock em up in captivity opened like a cavity
Ya chest be split up like an anatomy
Blood plasma
So ya visions become a liability
Who bitter thee
Shatter competition like
Ghengus Khan dynasty hallowed it be
Thy name put many to shame
Critics go to flame burnt to a single grain
Height takes like a snort of *******
Waxing your brain gas em with these floating propane
Light butane flame blows up everything
With no remains we nasty baby
Quick witted and skilled break through weak wills
Fools shootin' at me kill.me.
But I'll still breath through my eye gills
Ascending hills
Like Lauryn nothing even matters
Im crazy shatter your bladder
Make ya walk 8miles Marshal Mathers
You'll be front lined interview
With the death version
of Don Rathers too many taddler
Who running with blabbers back stabbers
Wave one hand with other hand with holding the dagger
**** swagger id rather be the grims bagger
Or better yet a caddy shack with a room full of macks
And beautiful women cooties to ******
Fatal attraction causing halo love TKO
I'm at the top of my game
Chillin' with the Monks meditating my pineal gland with dead sea scrolls in my hand
None could touch me cuz my energy band
To strong none could withinstand
That force held in
I'm a combination of antimatter and sin
With touch a gin but then again
Im just another poetic gem
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 5:21 PM UTC