I was only 9 years old.
I pray to Shrek every night, thanking him for the life I’ve been given. “Shrek is love” I say, “Shrek is life."
My dad hears me and calls me a ******. I knew he was just jealous of my devotion
to Shrek. I called him a ****.
He hits me and sends me to sleep. I'm crying now and my face hurts.
I lay in bed, really cold. I feel something warm...
It's Shrek! I was so happy.
He whispers in my ear "This is my swamp."
He grabs me with his ogre hands, and puts me on my hands and knees. I'm ready.
I spread my *** cheeks for Shrek.
He penetrates my *******. It hurts so much,
but I do it for Shrek. I can feel my **** tearing and eyes watering.
I want to please Shrek. He roars a mighty roar as he fills my ****
with his love. My dad walks in.
Shrek looks him straight in the eye and says, "It's all ogre now."
Shrek leaves through my window.
Shrek is love. Shrek is life.

Shrek is love, I told them, Shrek is dreck, they answer.
So I make this poem, to give them the cancer.
Shrek is life, I’m groaning, while they’re battering me.
I don’t care, I’m flying, over the devilry.

I don’t care that I bleed, because my Shrek is here.
I know he’s behind me, with strong ogre muscles.
He will venge what they did, and feel them with sweet fear.
Stronger than an army, he’s only leaving skulls.

But what if he succumbs, what if he expires ?
No, you cannot get him, he is stronger than God.
Wonder from where he comes, maybe he pulls the wires.

The bullies were all gone, thanks to my green best friend.
And just for all he’s done, friendship does never end.
Shrek is love, Shrek is life, and Shrek is everywhere.

After a nice laugh a tear rolled down my cheek
Shrek wiped it  with his big green ear
Want to take a mud bath? he said grinning
sure
We went outside to the swamp and I took my clothes off
Shrek did not like this
GET OUT ME SWAMP
I ran away and cried...
I came back refreshed to the cottage
I lied down
Shrek came in and took a bite of my onion
After that I was angry I yelled at Shrek
WHY DON'T YOU EVER KISS ME
Shrek was angered by this
I went down on my knees to pray
he went to the bathroom
Donkey came in
I had mixed emotions when Donkey came in
for the first time I was in love
his big ears
his hooves
his hair
his nose
I loved every bit
last night

Shrek opened up the doors to a new day
As I smiled upon his glistening beauty
His gradient rays warming every being and creature
Oh how I love Shrek.

Who is there I ask?
(Shrek walks out from the shadows)
It's me Shrek says in a **** tone
I look down
Shrek lifts my chin and we meet eyes
I sigh, but I'm no ogre
He smiles, But you have layers
I laugh. He laughs. We laugh
...

Shrek was sad
Very depressed
But on day
He was gay
and found a boy to play
with
****** shrek
very yeck

Shrek
Ugly ogre
Happy villagers
Are so so happy
Shrek the play
Fiona a beautiful princess
Shrek and Fiona united together
What is meant to be will be

shrek is beck
deck is smeck
get top decked by the kripp
or u wont get any dipp

slip slop
drip drop
kip kop
hippity hoppity hood
goes the clock
tick tock
the mouse ran up the wall
and died

rest in pizza

Shrek is wreck
Wreck is deck
Deck is beck

Black rack
In the back
Of the knick-knack

Zipppity bow
How is how?
In the luau

I only eat lard
Poems are hard
cancer

CHECK YOURSELF BEFORE YOU SHREK YOURSELF !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ITS ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL­LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL­LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL­LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGGGGGG­GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG­GGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR­RRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE­EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE NOW

THE WODEN WESTFIELD CHRISTMAS PARADE




SUE’   HI AND WELCOME TO THE WODEN WESTFIELD CHRISTMAS PARADE

MARKING THE START OF SANTA’S JOURNEY, HERE, AND AT PRESENT

THEY ARE CLEANING THE FLOOR WAY, SO THEIR AIN’T ANY ACCIDENTS, MATE

AND ME SUE LONGWAYS HAS PETE WITH A CAROLD FROM US

PETE’  WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS

OH YEAH A JOLLY CHRISTMAS

A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS

IN THE SOUTH OF CANBERRA TODAY

GOOD PRESENTS WE’LL GIVE

TO EACH OF OUR KIDS

YPU SEE WE WISH YOU A HAPPY CHRISTMAS AT

WODEN WESTFIELD TODAY

SUE’   THAT WAS A GREAT SONG AND NOW

HERE IS ANOTHER CAROL FROM PRUE

PRUE’   OH YEAH THE CHRISTMAS BELLS

OH ******* WHERE ARE THE KIDDIES

I CAN’T FIND THEM OH NO

AND THEN AS I WALK AROUND WOOLWORTHS YEAH

I FOUND MY KIDDIES, YEAH I DID

EATING CHOCOLATE AND MOTHER HAD TO PAY THE BILL YET AGAIN

SUE’  ME SUE LONGWAYS WILL BE BACK AFTER THIS BREAK BOBBYE SANTA LAND

THE KIDDIES ARE HERE

PART 2
SUE’   AND WELCOME BACK TO THE FRESH FOOD SECTION OF WODEN WESTFIELD AWAITING

THE START OF THE SANTA CLAUS PARADE

AND WHILE WE ARE WAITING, NEVER HESITATING WE ARE REALLY REALLY WAITING

TO START IT, HERE IS A YOUNG DUDE JINGLE BELLS, FROM BILLY

BILLY’  YO DUDES, WE ARE DASHING THRU THE EARTH, LIKE A YO SURFER SHARK

WITH ALL THE PRESENTS IN THE BACK, AND A GREAT BIG DOG THAT BARKS

YO LEAVE ME ALONE YA DOG

I WANT TO SEND YO SURFER TO SWIM

ON EVERY BEACH OF THIS GREAT BIG WORLD

AND RIDE THEV WAVES, THAT’S GREAT

JINGLE BELLS YO JINGLE BELLS

THE CHRISTMAS SHARK HAS COME

TO GIVE THE KIDS AND ADULTS GIFTS

AND ***** TO GET US BLIND

YA SEE WE HAVE XXXX AND VB TOO

AS WELL AS CHAMPAGNE YIPPEE I AY

YEAH THESE JINGLE BELLS ARE  RINGING DUDES

YEAH ON THIS CHRISTMAS DAY

YO, YA HERE THE CHRISTMAS BELLS

ARE RINGING WITH A LOUD SONG

AND THE REINDEER DOES A **** IN THE PADDOCK

AND BOY DOES IT MAKE A PONG

YA SEE YO SURFER SHARK IS COMING UP TO SAY

OH WHAT A WONDERFUL TIME OF YEAR WE HAVE

I WANT TO CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS EVERY DAY

JINGLE BELLS YO JINGKE BELLS

THE CHRISTMAS SHARK HAS COME

TO GIVE ALL THE KIDS AND ADULTS GIFTS

AND ***** TO GET US BLIND

SUE’    SORRY BILLYI MUST STOP YOU NOW, AS THE PARADE

HAS STARTED, WITHN A MONSTERLOOKING REALLY COOL

AND A FEW KABGAROOS AND REINDEERS AND A MARCHING BAND

AND ALSO SANTA WITH A BEAUTIFUL MRS CLAUS

THAT THIS CITY JAS EVER SEEN, AND WESTFIELD WODEN, IS COMING ALIVE

WITH HEAPS OF CHRISTMAS CHEER, AND THE MONSTER ISN’T A MONSTER

IT’S AN ALLIGATOR, OR EVEN SHREK, ******* LOOKS LIKE SHREK

YEAH IT’S RADICALLY AWESOME, AND THERE ARE A FEW PRETTY CHEER GIRLS

AND ALL THE BLOKES SAY, THEY ARE SOOOO HOT BABY

AND MRS CLAUS IS WAVING TO EVERYONE DANCING ALONG HAPPILY

TO EVERY CHRISTMAS SONG PLAYED BY THE GREAT BAND

MAN, SHE IS SWAYING FROM SIDE TO SIDE, DUDES

IT IS RADICALLY AWESOME DUDES

AND SANTA YELLED OUT, MERRY CHRISTMAS ON THE BOTTOM FLOOR

YEAH THIS IS COOL, AND IT’S THE ALLIGATOR, WHO IS THE FINEST COSTUME ANIMAL

AS WE ARE MAKING A GREAT TRAVEL AROUND THE WODEN WESTFIELD PLAZA

AND I SEE THE ELVES KEEPING CLOSE SHOWING THEIR CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

AND EVERYONE IS WAVING THEIR HANDS AS THE PARADE WENT ON

AND WE JUST PASSED A KID WITH A SUPERMAN SUIT ON, HE’S COOOL MAN

YEAH THIS IS RADICALLY AWESOME DUDES

SANTA GIVES ALL THE MEN CUDDLES AS HE TRIUMPHS THROUGH THE MALL

AND AS WE DRAW TO LINCRAFT ESCULATOR, THEY MOVE ON FORWARD

TO MAKE A STOP AT EPIC HAIR SALON

WHERE THEY MADE A TURN AROUND AND ME SUE LONGWAYS

IS HAVING A WOW OF A TIME

AS THE BIG SHEEP DOGS AND OWNERS, AND THE BEAUTIFUL CHEER GIRLS

AND THEN SANTA PATTED ME SUE LONGWAYS, ON THE SHOULDER

YOUR MY OFF SIDER, SUE LONGWAYS, AS ME SUE LONGWAYS IS WEARING

A SANTA SUIT FOR AAA YOUTUBE TV

AND NOW WE ARE HEADING TO THE ESCULATOR, NEAR THE BIG W ENTRANCE

AND THE BAND PLAY RUDOLPH THE RED NOSED REINDEER

HAS A VERY SHINY NOSE, AND IF YA EVER SAW IT, YA CAN EVEN SAY IT GLOWS, LIKEW A LIGHT BULB

ALL OF THE OTHER REINDEERS USED TO LAUGH AND CALL HIM NAMES, LIKE PINNOCHIO

THEY NEVER LET POOR RUDOLPH, JOIN IN ANY REINDEER GAMES, LIKE MONOPOLY

AND THEY GET TO THE NEXT DOWN LEVEL; AND THE BAND PLAYED

HERE COMES SANTA CLAUS HERE COMES SANTA CLAUS

RIGHT DOWN SANTA CLAUS LANE,BLITZEN AND ***** AND ALL THE REINDEERS

PULLING ON THE REIGNS

AND SANTA AND THE ALLIGATOR AND THE GINGERBREAD MAN WAVED

TO ALL THE KIDDIES AS THEY MAKE IT THROUGH

CHRISTMAS IS HERE AND PEOPLE ARE EATING LUNCH AS

WE ARE PARADING THROUGH THE FOOD COURT, OH YEAH

AND ME SUE LONGWAYS, THINKS THIS IS COOL, MAN

EAT MY FLAMING SHORTS, LIKE BART SIMPSON SAYS

AND SANTA AND THE ALLIGATOR ARE WALKING PAST HUNGRY JACKS AND MACCAS, YEAH MATE YEAH

YA KNOW, HAVING A WOW OF A FLAMING TIME

AND THEN THE BAND PLAYED

YOU BETTER WATCH OUT, YOU BETTER NOT CRY

YOU BETTER NOT POUT I AM TELLING YOU WHY

SANTA CLAUS IS COMING TO TOWN

AND THE REINDEER AND THE ALLIGATOR AND THE CHEER GIRLS, TEEN OR TWEEN, OH YEAH

AND WAVING TO EVERYONE WAVING TO EVERYONE

AND ONE LADY HAS THE GIFTS, SANTA WILL GIVE THE KIDDIES

AS THEY SIT ON HIS KNEES

AND WE PULL UP HERE AT MUFFIN BREAK

AND NOW WE ARRIVE AT SANTA’S WORKSHOP

AND ME SUE LONGWAYS IS EXCITED AS SANTA MEERTS HIS FIRSTKIDS IN THE LINE

ARE THE MOST EXCITIBLE KIDS IN WODEN

AS WE VWATCH THE KIDS EYES COME OUT WITH TOTAL AMAZEMENT

AS THE KIDDIES CHEER SANTA SANTA SANTA OI OI OI

WE ARE CHEERING ON OUR SANTA CLAUS, YEAH AND THE DOGS WALK ON THEIR PAWS

AND THE CROWD GOTN THEIR PHOTOS WITH THE GINGER BREAD MAN

AND NOW HERE IS BOBBHY WITH HIS SONG

BOBBY’   JINGLE BELLS JBATMAN SMELLS

ROBIN LAID AN EGG

THE BATMOBILE LOST IT’S WHEEL

AND THE JOKER GOT AWAY

JINGLE BELLS BATMAN SMELLS

ROBIN FLEW AWAY

WONDER WOMAN LOST HER *****,

FLYING QANTAS AIRWAYS

SUE’   AND WE LOST OUR MAN WHO SANG OUR JINGLE BELLS YOUNG DUDE SONG, SO WE CAN’T BRING HIM ON

BUT IT’S TIME TO GO AND PARTY DOWN IN SANTAS VILLAGE

step one: mark out your
territory, bordered by
sea surf on the one side and
beach towels on the other;
dig a moat to the left and right so
no one can intrude upon your
Fortress of Solitude.
step two: build a sandcastle.
ignore the imminent
tides and the omnipresent
ravages of gravity; they are
irrelevant to your
Dream of Isolation.
step three: come to realize
that you are not
happy despite
getting exactly what you wanted:
welcome to the real
world kiddo. I hope you
found what you're
Looking For.

******* hell
there's sore spots all over my body
scabs forming over torn flesh
i scratched until i was bleeding and then kept scratching
i just want them to go away, god why are there so many bumps
i'm trying some self surgery here let me know how it turns out
actually, don't
please don't talk to me about my skin don't mention the dried blood on my shoulder please don't say anything about how i'm going to cause scars
i'd rather have scars than bumps because the scars are mine i made them and if i can't perfect my skin then i'm going to claim it
(that doesn't mean i'll let anyone see them though, it's still ruined it's been ruined from the beginning)
i don't know what you see in me (or what you say you see in me. i still find myself doubting)
i'm too lumpy and bumpy and chubby and there's acne in all the wrong places and blood under my nails
i feel like i'm wearing an old jacket but the jacket is my skin and i need to find something better under this
god i'm going to peel all my ******* skin off
if i lick my lips they still taste like blood from tearing the skin off of them with my teeth
(teeth aren't bumpy. i like my teeth.)
my teeth are sharp enough i just need to stop feeling, if i stopped noticing the pain i could tear it all off god i'm gonna tear it all off
i don't wear tshirts anymore i don't want you to see my arms i don't want anyone to see my skin i don't want to see my skin
make it go away i don't want it anymore i just want to feel nice why is this this so hard
you'd think i'd be able to stop when i make it worse than it was and when i'm hiding all my failures under long sleeves, long pants, hands
no,  no i need to scratch until it's gone it's going to stop i need it to stop but god the pain is killing me (but so is having this skin)
digging out part of your leg hurts like hell, who knew?
i'm going to claw myself out of this skin prison or die trying
i'm going to get out i need to get out let me out **** someone help let me out i'm buried in flesh i'm suffocating in my own skin
hello 911 come quick i need you to cut off my skin I feel like i'm drowning i can't breathe god i can't breathe get it off of me
i've scratched my scabs open again and there's blood trickling down my arm and i'm squeezing it out

A dream told me to write a poem titled
Little Blue Hill,
Here it goes

First, I dreamed of Shrek
Weird, I know
I had an epiphany in my dream
It was this profound realization
This wow! moment I experienced
Right slam center within the dream
It was this:
Fiona fell in love with Shrek
because she could be her true self
in his presence
She could be the ogre she truly was with him
She could be completely vulnerable and herself with him,
No walls, no facades, no masks
Just herself
Right then my sleep was interrupted,
which I was happy about so I could remember this dream
And falling back asleep,
my brain exclaimed
That's what real love is!
I never realized that that is the deeper meaning of
Shrek all along, I never saw it there
But it was there, implicitly

In my second dream
I was at church
And I healed someone's injury
With my hands
The people of the church
applauded me and looked onto me with awe
I felt proud
But also ashamed of my pride
I wanted to stand up and say: "I don't deserve the praise. It is God alone who heals"
But I sat in a pew, with a smug grin on my face
And an elation in my heart.

In my third dream
I was talking to a guitarist at church
And I mentioned a little blue hill,
for some reason
Then, I was on that hill
and I exclaimed
"I'll write a poem about a little blue hill!"
So, I did
And here it is

Am I a good person?

Underneath all these layers
(The layers of an onion)
[Like Shrek, full of layers]
-pretty sure the onion quote is dead-

I don't want you
to remove my layers
to find a person that
isn't the same on the outside.

Onions are perfect
because with each layer
they look exactly alike.

If you took me apart
we'd find the person
I think you want me to be.
(If you took me apart you'd be a murderer)
[Don't try to find out, organs don't talk.]
-The mess would be such a hassle-

I wish someone could tell me.
It's all in the way,
these layers
they're all that we have.

A new dawn has surfaced,
I woke up and realised I was wrapped tightly in your warm embrace,
I gently pushed your arms away,
Headed to our brightly lit kitchen,
Fixed you marshmallows, pancakes, muffins,
Marmalade,
Everything that could revitalise your day,
And then I remembered what you said,
'Babe, never leave me more than 5 inches away'.
I giggled and decided to return to your warm embrace,
But there you were standing,
Shambling like a Haiti Zombie,
Hair messy,
Breath as foul as Smaug and Shrek,
But there I was wanting to close our 2 metres gap,
Till' no spaces between us were left,
But I halted from my tracks, and said,
‘Baby, would you like some coffee to ease your groggy state?’
‘Who knows what tomorrow’s dawn may bring’
‘But my love for you will never dwindle from change’

I wept as the last pages of your diary was soaked in red,
From the sliced vein of my wrist when I was in a fit of rage,
With the broken glasses of our photo frame,
Taken whilst we were at the Carpathian cliffs,
Alas I could not capture your fall,
And I could not stop recalling how your hands gently slip away from my palm,
You ended up in a coma, failing to respond despite my desperate calls,
Nor from kisses that could awake you magically like Snow White with her company of dwarves,
Know that I am forever yours,
The same bespectacled spectre, Always haunting the campus halls,
Waiting to steal your attention and leave me petrified,
From your Basilisk and Medusa like gaze,
You were a personified patriot of beauty,
With hazel scarf, scarlet hair, pink lips,
Seraphim in disguise,
And what an angel you must be, to fall from the atmosphere,
And defy society’s tainted rules of attraction to fall for an underdog,
Though I find it ironic that your name was Dawn,
It seems like my sorrow was fated all along,
But I do not wish to survive another dawn without me in your arms,
How silly am I to forget about the running water in the tub,
The portal to bridge our gaps,
Not another step was taken,
When I felt a familiar warmth behind my back,
Followed by a disembodied voice which sounded like a ‘Hello’
Or was it,

‘*******’.

What was it like?
The fight?
Well I’d say it was like…
Eowyn valiantly facing off with the Witch King
It was like Obi Wan flinging droids around with the flick of his hand
It was like saying “Hi” to Scarface’s friends
It was like the feeling Shrek got when he saved Fiona
It was like the moment when we first realize Scar will betray Mufasa
It was like watching the Joker toy with Batman’s head
It was like watching King Leonidas **** Persians in slow motion
It was like John McClane actually dying
It was like the green burst of light from Voldemort’s wand
It was like…
It was like…
It was like ******* off the Don on the day of his daughter’s wedding subsequently forcing the Don to leave a horse head in your bed.
Woah dude, that’s too far. The fight between Timmy and Johnny at recess was not like that.

~for Wendy ~

with my almost two years old poetry advisor,
who loves her Sunday rituals, an extra sabbath,
of waffles and Shrek, kid’s gym and artistic endeavors,
cozying up with Nana and siblings in a big old bed,
snacking and chewing on the good silk sheets

as always, she and and I go off to have an intellectual conversation,
letting the older ones to do kid stuff, while we converse and debate
topics of nature vs. nurture, the weather vs. climate change,
and the future of everything, unbeknownst to everyone else

which is greater, love or honor, she inquires,
sensing my thoughts are preoccupied with matters of honor...
as she strokes my itchy, scratchy day old face,
insuring her having my full attention, while
taking advantage of my loving weakness

grandpa:
honor over everything my opening gambit,
while she coyly harrumphs in response,
one can love without reason for such are
our natural souls programmed,
but honor needs concentration and contemplation,
and if done right,
then love will surely follow!

She-Woman:
ah ha! once again you sidle up to nurture,
cause love is too inexplicable,
old man, old man, did I not love you before
any season of reason crossed my brow,
and my vocabulary consisted of just
more, no, toy and hungry

what did I know of Aristotle, logic, codes of conduct,
the definition of honor yet abstract,
while love is nature’s illogical construct,
coming first without restrictions,
while honor is malleable and
property of the eye of the beholder

grandpa:
wise beyond your tears, you are, and unquestionably correct,
but while coming first, love cannot last,
until cover-coated with honor,
for honor gives us the because, and locks down the why,
honor gives the insight, the rationale, the rules of how to say
yes and no, when love is tendered and an R.S.V.P. is requested

She-Woman:
absent experience, for now will concede,
but be warned this is not over,
fo you have not brought me a definition of what truly honor be

grandpa:
honor is the housing of love, and though you granted me your favor,
comes the day that you will demand proofs that
what was unearthed & unearned
is now earned, a course in credit, a baccalaureate in life’s lanes,
when to heed them, when to crossover, when to say I do, I do,
no to someone else alone, and yes to your honorable self

She-Woman:
adult double speak, I suspect, and you will rue the day
when forced to concede, with a wrenched
‘child, I do not know,’
meanwhile change my diaper
after I karate chop your knee

Grandpa:
yes child, but know,  two of your requests/notifications are
honorable acts and/know real love can be ONLY be exchanged
tween honorable humans

Lost in daze, even though this path I have played,
it sat as a record in my mind, played over and over again
and I knew what to do,
my thinking, my actions, yes i will be ready
the minute i cross that road.



I have watched Cinderella leave her shoe,
O’ what love for a prince to find,
To send horses trotting to her doorstep,
Chariots and king’s man,
O Cinderella-happy ever after!

Aaaaah! It is wonderful.

At night I would have dreams about you Cinderella,
Being snow white, awakened by my prince,
And so I mastered the art to wait,
Yes, I will scrub floors, play with the dwarfs,
Singing my hearts tunes -knowing,
In a shining armour my prince will come,
And we will live happily ever after.
Like I have seen it in my mind.


So here I am, there, sitting -waiting,
Hearing the words as you are speaking,
The world I once thought was far,
Meeting with my reality and hush…

I am “There”

Be it that I be a Cinderella or a fairy,
The collision of reality makes to wish
That such fantasies were true,

And now that I am here, You prince you came.
With my shoes, in a shining armour,
But nothing like my fantasy.
I could blame you for not being the prince
I had in my dreams, how could you betray me!


I mean I love you but why is it not like I imagined!
I want to be rescued from a tower; I want horses to make a convoy!
I want birds to sing my happiness; I want flowers to sprout at my joy!
I want to grow wings and fly! That is how I know it!.
Why is not like shrek or fiona, or the Barbie or the princess in aladin!.


Marriage is holy,

Two people are joined in matrimony,
They become one to reflect his glory,
And the lord orchestrates it to reflect him,
O’ the angels blow their trumpets,
And the lord dances over the union with singing,
For then his image on earth is portrayed,
A covenant of eternity,
As that of his bride, as the groom.

However, On earth.

Frustrations grab our minds,
And we wonder if we right,
Is he the one! Did we go wrong!

You see when two become one,
All their flaws are exposed,
For no two people can be two in one,
Some trees need to fall,
The flesh is stretched for both,
The bone is taken with no anesthetic,

Bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh,
You never know till you hit this road,
Happily ever after, but not mention- after what?

Because marriage is holy, some things are refined,
100% human 80% God, God works with no fractions,
See, in him we need to be whole,
for in the one lies a deeper purpose and
when these two come together, there might be a collision.
For marriage is holy and as one you are selfish,
but when two come together,
they are drawn to selflessness.

I can no longer eat the pizza alone, but think of my significant other,
Uhhh! No longer will live but need the care like my father.
Marriage is HARD!


You never know until you there,
The vinedresser prunes the branches, tweaking them slowly,
They fall to the ground, trampled.
For the purpose of matrimony is to make us like him.
Christ as the head joined to the Body,
The husband joined to the wife,
A beautiful gift that God gives to man!
Take me again, he says- be like Christ!

In marriage we are given an opportunity to reflect his glory,
To imitate his kindness, compassion and love,
To experience the intimacy that Christ has for us,
It is no longer about lifting our eyes to the sky,
But Christ comes as a groom to his bride,
He comes to share himself between husband and wife,
What gift it is, more than Cinderella or snow white and her dwarfs,
More than earthly treasures, it’s the beauty to share a life.


To our carnal minds, and fleshly ways,
Marriage is a ***** or a thorn,
And whatever joy it brings,
We know that Christ his grace he gives,
But we know that for his glory we love,
Each other, but together love him,
And happily we will leave,
In endurance of all things.
Marriage....Marriage is beautiful!

I never knew, I ‘am there’

We steadily crept up the emotional ladder together.
We went from human beings to acquaintances to a more serious matter.

We had break ups and make ups and problems that plagued us.
And if one didn’t pick up then the other would text "Wake up!"

We've been un-together for a while but I'm still infatuated.
I still write her love poems and trip on each man she's dated.
Man, I know I sound over rated.

I can't even think about what she thinks of me.
I recognize that father time hasn’t been good to me.
And recently I realized that, by this time, her hands are probably clean of me.

Man I'm trippin' and I feel like a wreck!
I make the Titanic look like that pussycat in Shrek.

I still remember the time when my heart used to beat,
Like a sweet mellow beat mixed with soulful RnB.

She was definitely a queen and that made me a king
But my queen went to another and that makes me just another brother.

Now please don’t think that in her choice she was wrong.
I admit I was terrible and hard to get along… with.

We're closing in on our Anti-versary.
I hope she's doing well and that she doesn’t want to ****** me.

God I'd do anything to feel her touch.
Just one small slap, I'm not asking for much.
I just miss her…

A word from this Poet, who has loved and lost his girl.
Who has loved and lost the one who forever changed his world.
If you should ever be so blessed…

If you should ever be so blessed as to find that one dime,
That makes you change your mind or inclines you to write a rhyme,
Then don’t let her get away!

Because everyday it gets harder and harder to connect with one another.
And there will come a day when we all give up and say, "Why bother?"

Some say, "Why waste time searching for one person when I can get it on with ten?"
My reply is, "You'll get it on, but after that, what then?"
"What then?"...

I use to laugh at ironic things
No punishment for the bad deeds
The Bible says that good 10 fold
The universe returns to us in gold
That fairytales and nursery rhymes
Exist to scare and keep us in line
But on this day fate stepped in
And karma it seems is a comedian
A lesson weaved throughout every line
Carefully crafted as a warning sign
It was a day like any other
As usual jumped in the shower
Quickly washed and rinsed my hair
Noticed too late that it was NAIR!
Every luscious lock and strand
Fell out completely in my hand
What seems like a sick joke being played
Or demented parts a malicious prank
A plot unfolded my part the lead
The lines straight from a horror scene
Like laws of nature or earths gravity
The rules we bend to suit our need
Like a boomerang’s invisible path
It seems to follow when it comes back
Even the ocean and it’s changing tides
Needs the moon’s persuasive side
We are the keepers of what we seek
And what we sow we indeed will reap
The nightmare that we fear the most
Comes back to haunt us like a ghost
Like Peter Pan and Captain Hook
Just a good story in a children’s book
what if the earth gets bored of us
And decides that we are entertainment
those characters we read as kids
Like Pinocchio or the 3 little pigs
Sleeping beauty or the ogre Shrek
You thought was funny as a sketch
Brought to life would pose a threat
Although to you this seems far fetched
The truth Ive written has not been stretched
I hope you read this and know as fact
What you put out there will soon come back

Ipp deeb oob voove

Shrek in the me
Hirk ma do dee
Irk groove verande
Trek goova grande

Move the book
Yelp in the hook

Panda in the look
And a bag shook
Never get the dook
Teens are on the clock
Slivers got the shock

Remember when you traced over my photograph
in green paint
and it made me look like Shrek?
I hated you for that.
You're a talented tracer though;
I'll give you that.

Remember that one time you made a list of things I like
in your notebook?
I found it romantic in a tastefully subtle way.
I like that you noted my affinity for knee socks.
The song and the item of clothing.

Remember when I wrote you that poem
on Hello Poetry?
It was kind of cliche
in a charming sort of way
You never admitted to reading it,
but I know you did.

The chorus of Katy Perry's song "unconditionally" is written in the future tense. "I will love you unconditionally." This implies that current circumstances preclude love. In other words, her love is subject to conditions.

She goes on to suggest "open up your heart and let it begin."
In other words, her love will become available if and when the subject decides to receive and/or reciprocate it. This sounds like the opposite of unconditional love.

She also repeats many times "there is no fear now." Irregardless of whether she is referring to herself or the subject of her affection, it sounds like there is in fact a lot of fear insecurity and reluctance on both sides. Perhaps this was supposed to highlight the wishful thinking of a person in this situation. Perhaps this whole song is a sardonic analysis of unhealthy, obsessive, unrequited love and how difficult it is to be objective under these conditions. Or maybe Katy Perry doesn't care that her young female fan base will listen to this song and see nothing unreasonable about it. Or maybe it's like the movie Shrek where it's fun for the kids but also has some elements that only adults will understand. Maybe Katy Perry is a gifted lyricist allowing millions of people with different amounts of life experience to listen to her songs and all hear a different message. Maybe the apparent banality of her music actually allows it to function as a sort of mental mirror, forcing people to confront their inner most thoughts. Maybe that's why her music is so popular, because everyone hears it as a harmonious duet between Katy Perry and themselves. Maybe Katy Perry is like a cool kid that's introducing us to ourselves, telling us that we're cool too. Maybe, all of her listeners, whether fans or not, have been enriched by her music.

Or maybe it's just ****** pop that has been marketed very effectively.

A Wizard gave my cousin two choices, become an ogre or praise the new Doctor Who.
It took less than five seconds for him to choose what to do.
He chose to become an ugly green ogre even though it will be for the remainder of his days.
He chose to be an ogre because the new Doctor Who TV show isn't something he'll ever praise.
He became an ogre two years ago and this morning I learned that he doesn't regret it.
He doesn't regret his choice even though he's so ugly that he makes Shrek look like Brad Pitt.
When he was given the choices, he was expected to praise the new Doctor Who.
He has always loved the original Doctor Who TV show but he sure does hate the new.

He's sitting there, with that intense stare, forgetting about the world and daring to care. He's not prince charming, if anything he's Shrek, but the ogre stole my heart in the end. He's beautiful, I hope everyone can see, with his open brown eyes. He's a mess I must confess but what matters is inside.

When I fell in love with him, it wasn't a fairy tale. It was tears and laughter and lies and growth. Nothing kept me going except a solid maybe and an urging instinct to leap into his arms.

When I met him it was even worse, we were looking for benefits and nothing else. But instead we found each other and a possible forever. Who would have known a thief was in my midst? Who knew he could just be it? Not I. Even though before I was interested I felt comfortable and that our hearts just might share beats, I never imagined where he could take me.

Maybe years from now I will laugh at my young heart, but I pray I look back and smile and show our grandchildren this.

How daring am I in writing. I said that aloud in written form. I admitted it. Who have I become? Its crazy how crazy in love I am with him. He changed the romantically cynical and dead into a dreaming sap.

All because he was brave enough to steal my heart. He traversed Wonderland looking for a fabled girl named Grace, simply because I intrigued him, and found instead my heart. In a turn of events, he found it so precious that he decided to keep it. My heart turned an honest man into a thief, but I would have it no other way.

Well regardless, now I must speak straight to you, my ogre thief. I am madly mad over you and happy to be your partner in crime or your princess, whatever any given day suits us. I love you, and that's what matters to me.

So keep on looking off somewhere with that intense stare of concentration and determination, because that is the you I love most. Just you.

I fell in love with the guy who made fun of me for being so clumsy. I fell in love with the guy who sang me songs and told me stories when I couldn't sleep. I fell in love with the guy who sent me a hundred messages to express just how much he loves me. I fell in love with the guy who woke me up in the middle of the night because he missed me too much. I fell in love with the guy who refused to say "***** please" because he didn't want to call me a *****. I fell in love with the guy who wouldn't let me stay angry at him. I fell in love with the guy who forgave me for even the worst of things. I fell in love with the guy who said that even if I was green like shrek he'd still love me. I fell in love with the guy who offered cuddles even though he knows we're too far away to actually be able to right now. I fell in love with the guy that told me how beautiful I was until I started to believe it. I fell in love with the guy who made time for me every single day. I fell in love with the guy who would give me the world if he could. I fell in love with the guy who acts like my flaws don't exist. I fell in love with the guy who would rather be in a long distance relationship with me than be in a relationship with any other girl. I fell in love with the guy who makes my heart happy. I fell in love with the guy who can make butterflies explode in my stomach. I fell in love with the guy who can make me blush through a simple text message. I fell in love with the guy whose 'I love you' means more than everyone else's combined.

a note before i end the pending poem.

i know i'm not writing anything "in the groove"
or whatever urban tonguing i should use to invent
the new form of glue: to stick with the trends.
                    when people read candyfloss
literature i read lead literature,
  that's how it goes, i find too many poets
angry shouting down other people's throats,
i find them in positions where they think
they empower people: but rarely do.
   i write for the sole purpose of a demographic,
a democracy of sorts, i never want to hear
my voice regurgitated back at me,
i find it prickly, apart from the half-digested content
i am actually opposing being fed it...
  i can't explain why i don't entertain,
write one poem every two years either, apart from
the fact that: well, writing a poem and then
performing it? performance doesn't really do much
for what's an ongoing voyage, performance to
the art is like a Moby **** moment:
   you get to tell the adventure of a shipwreck,
rather than the proof that the earth is not flat.
the additional benefit, you get to see how your
thinking interacts with symbols, and how these symbols
will never betray the tongue that doesn't speak them...
   you get to do x-ray upon x-ray and find that
stuff like this: is actually equivalent to a bone in your
tongue. as with the moment: when artists are quoted
as having said: words are meaningless...
     i guess there comes a time when, with that said:
punching someone dead means more.
   oh this pithy sentiments that only empower politicians
and the media... i might have said
    a baby's gluttonous gaga drool and you'd be like:
yay! happy days upon us!
                      when poetry isn't performed it continues
into the nether region of thoughts: it's not jeopardy
of suddenly fizzling out into a state of a stale champagne
bottle... the residual power is confiscates from speaking
it retains a close proximity of actually writing it,
on the basis that it becomes prolonged, and more concentrated,
it cannot be allowed to diffuse into the open,
into a crowd, for a democratic hurrah on we go.
  i wanted to simply see poetry as an optical exploration,
rather than a vocal necessity of the art,
      philosophy was clogged up in too many truths
and untruths, and basically too many paragraphs,
   i wanted to make frank the medium that abhors paragraphs,
and by the looks of it: punctuation marks.
well, it's all about pedantry to be honest,
               but then i never desired the urban lingua
of keeping with the zeitgeist... i see how keeping up
with the times is enshrined with materialism and how
fickle it all eventually becomes... you can never reach
a status of cool reaching for the obscure,
but that's what all attempts at fame end up being:
a quiz show, trivia, obscure knowledge, 0 points
means the best points available, and after that, the realisation
that all is empty, and that attempts at fame
become questions in a quiz show where the aim of
the game is to: name the most obscure answer possible...
oddly enough the same show invites celebrities to
take part in the quiz for charity... *pointless celebrities,
first word, yep, that's the name of the show.
oh no, i don't shun television, i do admit that watching
a brick wall is more entertaining drunk than television,
but the sober me has to do something from time to time.
so poetry: a medium that's opposite of vocally necessary,
a medium to explore the bone inside the tongue
that writing invokes: ****** stalemate...
      would i care to say why every word has a meaning?
unless you can speak hundsprechen i'd say only this,
that sort of reasoning is dangerous...
            we wouldn't get anything done is units of language
was meaningless... (hold on, i'm going to create
a crescendo for this point)...
you can say language is meaningless when you're
singing... vocalising language from these depths of
what would otherwise be known as the graveyard of surds
on the pure basis of optics and all cognitive parameters...
      sure, from these depths into an angelic gospel choir
you can get a meaninglessness: because it's so ******
    pleasurable... you can't deny a good song, you
can't compare the use of language in singing to the use
of language in lecturing some obscure topic by simply
talking... for thus words are sounds, and not the dreaded
pluralism of conventional talking: i.e. meanings.
              unlike the Chinese who have a certain capacity
to remember about 3000 ideograms, we have a much
bigger capacity, but our words are shrapnel and what we
don't have that the Chinese do have is:
                 a capacity for the multiplicity of meaning.
i can't imagine any ambiguity with Chinese ideograms
in the range of 3000 symbols... but there is clearly ambiguity
in our system...
                      obviously we can say words are meaningless
at times when rules of using language are lax given
the lies of politicians and the media roulette:
the fact that media is not state owned is even worse,
shadow brokers and a tarantula venom disorientating people.
   singing is an escape route from the socio-political
conventions of using language, hence the ambiguity trail
of what's deservedly called: socially-acceptable mode
of conduct, something that doesn't receive the ****** frown
of what would probably look like a lemon smiling.
  yet, if language doesn't give you a chance to see a labyrinth
then you have the shallows of singing... mm, yeah, mm, boo...
         ye-ha! ******* cowboys the whole lot of them...
but it's what it's supposed to be, something to be sung
for someone else to hear... it's not something written
down for someone else to see... and subsequently maybe
think about... oh how dreaded that statement seems in
English, a bit like denken scheiße / shy-se!
          people only make statements about the meaningless
of language when they sing... but that's the point:
you're making sounds, akin to the rhythm of my heart,
hence i don't think and subsequently go into a moshpit
or nod my head with some pigeon-like "cool" approval...
language is a bit like Shrek talking about onions...
it has layers, "spooky" other dimensions, oooh oooh...
Casper asked for a weener so he could invert necrophilia
and ghost-**** that ***... it has layers...
         somewhere between the Antarctica and the Arctic,
perhaps in the tropic of Capricorn, but who knows?
but i'll tell you one thing... it's not a white guy thing...
i finally understand why i don't like rap...
a bit like saying: a crowd shouting at a football match
is not an onomatopoeia of whatever is **** sapiens worthy...
   i think that classification actually predates
the expression of it... it's out there, but on the fringes...
         it's like this standard of protestantism with the concept
of predestination: we might just get there by Sunday
in the year 2099, but who knows?
        now i do understand why i don't like rap...
never liked it... couldn't stomach it...
   then i come across a beauty... so all those things i said
before, it culminates into this...
    Akua Naru, ring a bell? probably not,
3mil is nothing in today's celebrity cut-throat backstabbing...
     http://tinyurl.com/lt8ayhg... now that's entertainment...
that's what i love, how every instrument is
actually heard... the bass kicks in to set the tone
with the tickly percussion accents...
                       she's baking a cake...
she's layering...
  it's unlike that ****-culture music of pounding pounding
overly rhythmic and for every band these days
   it's one guitar = 20 violins of an orchestra's worth...
                  this is the new-jazz, or what John Coltrane
insinuated with the words: a love supreme, a love supreme.
            i don't know if it's poetry...
                                   a weak message on a stage might
always require a backing band, like a weak voice
might require a backing band... but this little critique doesn't
necessarily mean i can appreciate it,
   and is the reason why i don't understand rap, and never will.

I’m at (my roommate) Lisa’s for the holidays and it was Christmas Eve afternoon. I was in Leeeza’s room (Lisa’s 13-year-old sister). One corner of the room is all pillows. A hundred pillows or more - Disney pillows like Mickey and Minnie but shrek pillows too and penguin pillows, minion pillows, mario brothers pillows and novelty pillows that look like bags of doritos, cheetos and ramen noodle soup - just about every toy pillow you can imagine.

Leeza was there on the pile with me, watching “La La Land,” my favorite movie. Leeza had never seen it and I hoped she’d love it as much as I do. In the end, she pronounced it a new favorite.

Later (still Christmas eve) Lisa, Karan (her mom) Leeza and I made our way to a lardy-dardy rooftop event space called “The Skylark,” where Michael (Lisa’s dad) was co-hosting a Christmas party. The rooftop is on the 30th floor and everything there is made of glass - even the staircases.

When Lisa told me about the party (at school), I brought out a few Anna Molinari bits I had stored under my bed (when I realized Yale wear wasn't very fashionable). I ended up wearing a black lace party dress, a black knit crop cardigan cover and white, satin bridal shoes. It seemed very on point as a "Wednesday" look. If you haven't watched the "Wednesday" series on Netflix - It's fun.

As we arrived the sun faded, as if timed, and natural light gradually gave way to the cityscape of artificial light. Once it became fully-dark, New York city glittered around us, as if the stars had dropped from the heavens to join the party.

A brass and piano ensemble played seasonal classics like Prokofiev’s Troika as we (Lisa, Leeza and I) explored the venue. Every surface seemed decorated with poinsettias, candles, and ornaments or ribbed by garlands of balsam, spruce and fir that smelled incredible.

There were (guessing) about 200 guests and servers wound their way through the crowd with trays of cocktails and champagne. These waiters were all good looking, as if picked from the sea of actors, in New York, just waiting for that big Broadway break. At one point, Leeza, with a mischievous holiday gleam in her eye, reached for a flûte à Champagne only to have the waitress twirl, at the last millisecond, like a dancer, leaving her grasping at air, disappointed.

Michael’s company had set up a tall, white and gold Christmas tree, in a corner of the terrace, under it were packages, for special clients, so beautifully, individually and uniquely decorated that you could believe they were wrapped by angels.

The papering was exquisite, handmade, thick as Liva and embossed, inlaid or pebbled with gold. They were topped with bows, brooches, angels, or snowflakes of silver, rose-brass, batic silk and even crocodile.

No doubt the wrappings were as valuable as the gifts inside and though those presents enchanted, teased and cajoled us all, they were reserved for people on the very, very nice list (a cop stood discreetly by). We were briefly transfixed by the spectacle, but the spell was broken when Leeza said, “I’m hungry.”

Cocktail parties are for adults, so after we ate, Karen stayed with Michael and the teenagers were sent home. We didn’t mind, after all, none of those presents were for us - our day would be Christmas!

Happy holidays!