I am warmhearted and icy cold,
with a pretty face that's getting old.
I am fragile yet tough as a man,
struggle thru life with no real plan.
I am petite and cuss like a trucker,
slightly naive, but I'm no sucker.
I am a sinner with a halo of gold,
an open book with secrets untold.
I am a hypocrite but always play fair,
a bleeding heart and I don't care.
I am a mother who acts like a child,
crazy, impatient and easily riled.
I am spontaneous and I am a bore,
forever forgiving, I still keep score.
I am unstable and wonderfully wise,
a ****** deviant in sweet disguise.
I am creative and self-destructive
naturally skilled and unproductive.
I am shy and I am outspoken
with a heart of stone, easily broken.
I am awkward and well refined,
lost, insightful and a little love-blind.
I am respected and I am addicted
shamed by burdens, self inflicted.
I am a perfectionist and I am a slob,
unbiased and shallow, an inept snob.
I am nocturnal, a creature of night,
blissfully ignorant, typically right.
I am cautious and I have no fear,
a loser and quitter, still I persevere.
I am brilliant and easily amused,
over-zealous and under-enthused.
I am impervious with wounds to heal,
an occasional liar just keepin' it real.
I am weird and lovely and mean-
I am what I am.......100 Aileen.

You cause
a break inside my organs
Pointing out my flaws
our differences.
You are at peace.
I sit jittering, worrying
what everyone will think
of when I didn’t care
you made me laugh at
everything
Changes.  You’re not right for me
Nor I for you, but I can’t help
Thinking
What if?  Then I remember
you’re not what nor
Everything I want.

You are an intellectual snob you
have a depth about you
I would love to delve in,
a psychological study
that even the best critics would praise,
but I don’t want anyone else to have been there
or ever go there.
I cannot hold on to you
tear me away while
You’re haphazardly gluing us together
We’re a kindergarten art project
messy, trying to see
Beauty within the confusion,
unfinished    

You asked me
Where am I most at peace
4 years old.      
I could be anything
No fears
I hadn’t been ripped apart.
I was the girl that said everything,
until I felt the need to screen my thoughts,
like the filter you use to make your coffee
each morning.  I wish that’s where I was,
having you tell me
that you like your women like your coffee
Dark and bitter.

I can look past your chauvinistic ways,
not giving a **** about anyone.
You’re not really closed minded
You just act like it,
which annoys the hell out of me
Sometimes.  I wish life was simple.    
But then
I would never know your complexities nor
Feel the things you help me feel,
like hate for train whistles
or the burn of gin hitting my throat.
Music      
you introduce me to
offstage trumpets, bad movies.  Your politics,
your brown eyes      
and how you can hear frequencies
that most everyone else can’t.  I worry
that you hear
the fear in my voice and heartbreak
With every word I speak.

When were you going to tell me?
Or was that your plan all along?
To throw me out
like yesterday’s coffee grounds
or cut up scraps
Used and unwanted.
I wish I could tell you
to tell her you don’t want her
but me instead,
you don’t, I don’t want you to.
I want holding hands, laughter
comfort, personality, humor, intellect.
You want that plus things
I can’t give
But you always take.

You are your coffee
disgusting, caffeinated,
addicting
the only patch that helps is
comforting words you never spoke.
We had many conversations
of your desires, lusts, mistakes,
but I was burned,
by lies, distrust.
You left, like always,
a harsh, acidic aftertaste
on my tongue.

Today he is shy and spiritually low,
Looking pithy in his sub masculine glance,
The charm of self praise has lost spark,
Fondly hating himself for meeting reality,
De-snobbing the ego into narrow based self awareness
Feeding his heart on positive misfortune of a disillusioned snob.

Evening. It is the close of day. You draw the curtains across the windows of the apartment. The red curtains you bought recently, the colour having attracted you in the shop. You stand and gaze at them; with the finger and thumb of your right hand, you feel the quality of the fabric. Leonard had not liked them when he came, said they were gaudy, made the place look like brothel. He should know, you muse, bringing the fabric to your face, rubbing it against your cheek. Leonard had this terrible habit of thinking his opinion mattered more than yours, more than any others did. As if God, if he existed, had granted him a deeper insight into things than you or anyone else. You imagine him now, that thin moustache, those pale white cheeks, that nose, and those peering eyes. People were surprised when you began going out with him; surprised that you would go out with his sort. Whatever would your parents say, people said. You did not intend to marry him, at least not yet. Maybe one day if no one else turned up, if no other man came along who was willing to take you on. You release the curtains, go to the drinks cabinet and pour yourself a scotch. You sip it, let the scotch flow slowly down your throat, feel the sensation as it reaches your stomach. A warm inner glow begins as you walk to the gramophone, put on a jazz record. You close your eyes for a moment, sip at your scotch, hear the saxophone begin a solo. Leonard hates jazz, says it for the uneducated. Snob, you think, opening your eyes, walking to the sofa where you sit and gaze around the room. He is a snob, you know, but he has other qualities, qualities that outweigh his defects. His ****** prowess for one thing, his ability to spend money on you while out somewhere are both good qualities you feel. You sigh. Sometimes you wish he wasn’t so good in bed, then you wouldn’t miss him on evenings like this, when you know he won’t be coming around. Friday evenings he has chess night. Chess of all things. Moving pieces across a board, when he could be moving you across the bed, you muse. You sip the scotch again. Let the rim of the glass rest on you lower lip. You drain the remaining scotch; get up to pour another. Evening. Night. Morning, they follow so predictably. But evenings are your favourite part of the day. You hate mornings, they are too sudden, too fresh, too expectant. Like selfish children. Waiting there with all their expectations. Nights tended to be dragged out. The time when you couldn’t sleep and would lay twisting and turning, thinking about everything under the proverbial sun. Unless Leonard stays the night, but he seldom does. Goes before that. Has his fill and off he goes leaving you to your night and sleeplessness. Evening is the best part, you muse, listening by the drinks cabinet, as a trumpet goes wild in solo. You feel like dancing wildly, feel like you want to spin and twirl, and throw out your arms and toss back your head as those dancers do you’ve seen. You put down the scotch on the arm of the sofa and kick off your shoes. You begin to dance to the music, let your body unwind, feel your body become alive to the pulse of the jazz, your arms out about you, the hands gesturing like some wild animal. If Leonard were here now he would shake his head and be tut-tuting. But you don’t care because he isn’t here. Just you and the boys in the jazz band on the record. You wish they were here in person. Over in the corner of the room playing their music, watching you dance like some crazy dame. Perhaps they’d expect you to perform, expect you do more than dance. You don’t care; you don’t give a fig. At least you’d have *** and not a boring evening sitting boozing and listening to jazz records. You stop dancing and look around the room. Evening. Just you and the record and scotch. What a combination. ***. You wish you could purchase *** in a bottle like scotch. A pint of *** please. Yes, the tall one with the biceps. You laugh weakly. You sit down on the sofa, sip the scotch. Drain it. Put down the glass on the arm of the sofa. You remember the evenings you became so frustrated with the lack of *** that you were tempted to go out and grab the nearest available man, but you didn’t; too dangerous, especially around where your apartment is. You sigh deeply. All this thinking about ***. You sip the scotch. The saxophone begins a slow solo. The sound makes you feel like *******, slowly, piece by piece, until you are down to the last item and then you would stand up naked and embrace yourself. The sound of the saxophone. The evening. The rising desire to be held, touched, kissed. Where are you Leonard, you louse? You mutter loudly over the saxophone. You begin to unbutton your blouse. Button by button, pretending it is someone else’s fingers doing it. You gaze at the fingers, lick them, imaging Leonard’s face as you lick. You remove the blouse; undo the bra. You stand and unzip the skirt, let it fall to the floor. You stand there in you underwear, letting your fingers take hold of the top and slowly as if other fingers than yours were removing them over your hips. You remove them and drop them on the sofa. Naked. Evening. No Leonard. The pianist begins his slow solo. You embrace yourself, kiss your arm, kiss it and kiss it. Imagine it is another you are kissing. You close your eyes. Evening. You walk to the light switch and turn off the lights. Darkness, you and jazz. You must make love to your self. Love in that way your parents would never understand. Evening. You. Jazz. Solo. Aloneness.

I went to the Cordon Bleu
And my name is Pierre
I work in the kitchen
I’m a French chef extraordinaire

With fine French food
My name is synonymous
But I am an addict
I attend McDonalds Anonymous

When I make a quiche
I just want to hug it
But I keep getting cravings
For a Chicken McNugget

Fast food or French food
I am conflicted
Fast food or French food
Yes I am addicted

The 12-step program
Keeps me on track
I have to fight my desire
To binge on Big Mac

I pretend I’m a food snob
My life’s full of lies
When I buy burgers
I must wear a disguise

I should come out of the closet
Admit my transgressions
Then they would accept me
For my fast food obsessions

Maybe the other chefs
Would heap me with praise
If I smothered my Big Macs
With Sauce Hollandaise

I am anti-social,
I choke at social gatherings,
My breath feels nothing more than lies ,
The lies when people's words,
Sublime into air.

While everyone brags about,
The last time the Sapiens
Had a good time,
I comfortablly drift off,
Into my little Pluto,
Of words, poetry and music.

I am there,
Yet I am not there.

People think I'm a snob,
The Sapiens think I'm lazy,
But what do they know,
The happiness in solitude.

I am anti social,
And the last thing,
I could care about,
Is You.

I call my father's father Ye-Ye
because he is a traditionalist
and the word grandfather reminds him of England.

My mother calls him a selfish *******
because he never approved of her wallet's emptiness
and walked out of her wedding.

My father calls him an immature *****
because he throws temper tantrums at eighty-seven
and still doesn't respect anyone.

When I was five,
I stayed over alone for the first time.
I accused him of trying to poison me
because I found a dead fly in my soup.

When I was ten,
I found a coupon at the market
And got him a free box of Cheerios.

When I was thirteen,
I was sitting with him outside.
I got stung by a bee
and didn't say a word.

I have not seen my grandfather in seven years.

He has since almost died four times.

My aunt calls him a racist snob
because he refused to put my biracial cousin's picture on the mantle
and boasts of his friend's grandchildren instead.

If he didn’t had that thing called snob it would be much better
But even when he was young he had that
I don’t think it will ever go away
It is in his blood
He was born with it
He just doesn’t see eye to eye like we do
That thing called snob
Bring anger in to us
Bring sadness in to us
He won’t come down to our level
So we have to come down to his
It is difficult to adjust
That thing called snob
He will die with it
We can’t change it
We just have to let it be
It is very painful
If we think about it
To tell you the true we can’t change him
That thing called snob makes him feel important
He likes to feel important
He doesn’t see anything wrong with being snob
That thing called snob
Makes him more greedy
Makes him work more

How dare you treat me like this?
You must be taking the ****.
Have you no respect to pay?
Will you just send me
On my way?

The problem’s Yours my friend.
With you I can’t contend.
You are just me, me, me.
You’ve left me totally free.

I’m better off alone,
With no-one in my zone.

You’re such a bigot and a snob
And nothing but a ****
Who fobs me off
With drivel
From your gob.

Your haughty arrogance makes me mad
As you are nothing but a cad.
Okay so you have all the power,
And over me you sure do tower.
But don’t be thinking that I’ll cower:
I glower waiting for my hour,
For my dog’s day
When You I shall devour!

Paul Butters

I'm giving up the rat race
gonna quit my job
Gonna go live off the land
an organic enviro-snob

Gonna grow my own potatoes
carrots, peas and beans
Live off fruits and vegetable
eat lots of salad greens

My food will taste like proper food
not of wax or pesticides
And every day I will receive
a big thanks from my insides

I'll generate my power
form a windmill or two
then hydro bill and services
I'll say good bye to you

For work I'll tend my garden,
chop down trees for fire-wood
I'll be getting so much exercise
I'll never have felt so good

To relax I'll keep on writing
poems such as this
telling of the good life
sharing all my bliss

If he didn’t had that thing called snob it would be much better
But even when he was young he had that
I don’t think it will ever go away
It is in his blood
He was born with it
He just doesn’t see eye to eye like we do
That thing called snob
Bring anger in to us
Bring sadness in to us
He won’t come down to our level
So we have to come down to his
It is difficult to adjust
That thing called snob
He will die with it
We can’t change it
We just have to let it be
It is very painful
If we think about it
To tell you the true we can’t change him
That thing called snob makes him feel important
He likes to feel important
He doesn’t see anything wrong with being snob
That thing called snob
Makes him more greedy
Makes him work more

Look upon all my beauty
I'm a traditional rhyme
Written so elegantly
Perfect in every line!

No, look at my free verse style!
I'm not prissy or fussy
I'm free as a bird with a free spirit
That flies within the realm
Of so many possibilities and directions!
Much less inhibited than you!

Nonsense! The camera flashes!
They are taking pictures of me!
Lovely, poetic form of old
Style, as pure as can be!

You're out of your mind!
You traditional snob!
All the oohs and aahs
Are really all for my poetic genius!
Move aside!

And so they soon got into a tussle, words flying everywhere....that is according to Free Verse

Traditional Rhyme felt so robbed
Free Verse, you trouble maker!
You may be the rage of the day!
But to me you are a faker!

Free Verse had such a harsh choke hold
On the throat of Traditional Rhyme
I can rhyme too... but not like you!
Perfectly? No! Not all of the time!

Traditional Rhyme called a truce
Finally accepting both ways
Sure, she had grace and she had style
But Free Verse would not go away

Magnificence blasted

I came to this with a title and then formed an Idea then got out the heavy hitter books all founding fathers thought it would be
A good touch to reconnect with our country and it history at this time of the year well it didn’t proceed that way I did find the very
Word that serves as the title in G. Campbell Morgan’s book an exposition of the Bible don’t get excited I will just use that to set the
tone and it will give you a head start on what I want to deal with the place where life is at odds with our peace and well being He starts
the first chapter of Job now he is one that can at least give us a great example it’s all about winning getting the results we need instead
of the pain of failure (In magnificence of argument and beauty of style this book is one of the grandest in the divine library the story
of Job is presented in dramatic form) I want this to serve two purposes give understanding to the point we all can use these stories
to make us victors and in a very small way have a readable escape from drudgery or outright problems to that end I will start at this
Point I already wrote about the Dutch businessman who got fed up chucked it all started a journey to circle the globe by human
Power alone so to that end he made a boat that by pedaling and that alone would be what would propel him through great waters and
Grand adventures but for this one were going to stay on land I did meet a eastern traveler years ago from New York he was on this side
Of Shelbyville his ultimate goal was the west coast I think he had been at it a little over a month and he was on horseback we talked
but way to briefly to be able to use it here so go to one I know a little more about Jack Kerouac he was in that idea and wrote the
Book on the road first problem the guy had very bad language steeped in the sixties drug culture an iconic figure of the beat
Generation but he was human as we are and when you get down to the soul you catch the part I want to use this is going to play
Like an old family recipe that is hardly readable and the family is the human family but Jack was a writer a full blown saga that had to
Be read had to be listened to a solitary seeker a poor outward drifter who was deeply lonely man a sad melancholy drifter one writer has
Said “and if you read the book closely you see that sense of loss and sorrow swelling on each page” another penned why Kerouac
Matters he matters because he is one of us he ran the course with large gains and ultimately ended with his magnificence blasted.
Taking the cue from Jack I will take you on the road to another life of magnificence Steven Beckerman he was a neurosurgeon I met
And worked for well his wife Sandy she was such a tragic figure she was so fragile high strung would be a good description if you didn’t
Know better you would think she saw the future the first blow to this couple was there pricey home was gutted by fire everything was
Replaceable but the two Doberman guard dogs and another dog that was their family they were childless but before this fire Steven
Was not a snob but he was only a few degrees higher than Sandy on the fragile scale he had these beautiful hands he seemed to
Always be guarding them he would walk in the back of the house down by the fence always faraway I’m sure he was thinking of
The patient and the operation that waited on him at the hospital he had a vulnerability he entered other peoples troubled places and
Gave them back their lives but his own he couldn’t seem to walk divided it was all their concerns and needs.Their dream was to leave
The Bay area where neither was happy and go to the southwest New Mexico where people were laid back the pace was slower
Then the fire happened they weathered that resumed life then Steven was near home a car accident this wonderful gifted surgeon
Was left a paraplegic he went to the bedroom placed the gun between his legs then with those fingers who helped so many others
Pulled the trigger on the shotgun his magnificence was ended he couldn’t overcome the reality and fact of his situation he could have
Became a teacher so many things could have been we need to take from this a lesson of guarding our mind and heart we don’t know
What the future holds if only Steven would have measured his worth kept and made a powerful ally as Job had, his magnificence
Would still be shinning today to finish up the last piece talked about Yvette being shot with Zack in the desert her injuries included
Right side nerve damage a metal plate in her head that prevents her from getting private health care we heard what her dad said about
The Grisly listen to the wise words of her mother her mother said you have to mourn the person you were before up to the time of the
shooting that person is gone you need to turn and start a new life she did that as much as possible started out to do sports casting found
It totally unsatisfactory changed to law and now is a lawyer and victims advocate she said she never tells her story to her clients but
She has a compassion for them she found her way through giving and serving others to keep her magnificence stellar.

Felt like the steel tipped edges of a fake sword,
A young lover's sting, inclined to make one sob
And feel sorry

But no, not a word
Spoken 'gainst the face of the snob
Never a parry
Nor a word against sherry

It's been a long time
A very long, drawn out time since I've seen your face
Please forgive my beat red face
And my stumbling words, cause I know I'm gonna get tongue tied
No, please don't.. Don't say a word
I don't want to remember the sound of your voice
I just want to get this.. How do I say it??
Ah! Burden off my chest
Again I apologize if some of my words don't come out right
You must know how many times I've played this conversation out in my head
The endings always different.. You look confused, see the ending changes when my mood changes
I've spent so many hours bouncing back and forth from longing for you to hating you.. Well you see where I'm going with this?
Ok it's now or never
So I just came to say IM SORRY
Shocked to hear that aren't ya?
Let me get through it, this won't be confusing for long
I'm sorry that I clung to you so tight
I'm really sorry that I thought you were holding me back just as tight
You were so different at first
I was literally in awe of you
In awe! As if you were a super star or something
And you seemed intrigued by me
I recall you telling me how I said things that no one else did
Quirky but cute I think is how you put it
Well quirks have a time limit I guess, because they just couldn't hold your attention
Don't get me wrong, everything was great at first
So fresh, so new... I truly couldn't get enough
And the way you were in the beginning blew me away
Always texting or calling me
Always wanting to see me
And then the real kick was, when we were together.. It was enjoyable! Relaxing, cuddly yeah that's how I describe it
But within about a month or so's time.. You don't get it but, huge fears set in for me
Ones I couldn't shake... And honestly maybe I just smelled your ******* long before you showed it
I'm not sure
But, my intense fear of losing you brought out jealousy and insecurities in me
I didn't think I was good enough for you
And lol, turns out I wasn't! Ok ok, I digress,
So I doubted things you said, asked too many questions
I "got complicated" as you guys say we do
But ya ever thought, if you made just a tiny bit of a bigger effort to let me know I meant something to you
That I was the only one you wanted, like you texted her the day after my ****** birthday
Don't look at me like I can't be mad
You cheated on me while living with me and on my birthday and when I was going through one of the most difficult times in my life
Yeah, I guess I'm still ****** at your selfishness cause then you dumped me, ran to her, than thought "hey! Jaimee and I def need to stay friends"
No we didn't
You don't like being alone just like I don't
But you'll never admit it because, that'd be like having a weakness
An emotional problem
And let's not get it twisted, IM THE ONE with all the problems not you
I see you desperately wanna say something to defend yourself well ****** save it
It's way too late for any of that ******* to surface
Can you believe I thought you were too good for me?
That we had this in breakable connection, and it was nothing I'd ever felt before
You threw away the one person who would've never asked you to change
And who would've.. Sorry, WHO DID wait for you and yeah, I would've waited and stayed forever
But she trumpets me
I don't see what the hell you see in her
Except that she's a arrogant snob just like you
Don't shake your ****** head
The last thing you are is humble
Silver spoon
I'm not getting into all that
There's a million more things I could say but, I'm over my limit of wasting time and thoughts on you
So yeah, I'm sorry
Sorry I saw a future that never existed
Sorry I chased a dream that was never dreamt
And I'm mostly sorry I chased a person for so long that I didn't even know
I don't know you
And I don't want to even remember what I thought I knew
That's why I've begged you not to speak
Which honestly, can't be that difficult for ya buddy
You never had **** to say when my heart was dying and your words could've revived it
But, I don't want to get awkward
Who feels a life line with a complete stranger?
It's crazy, I'm crazy like you said
But, I guess you were just really bored that's why I had to be around all the time
You had to call me every week once you went away
Even though you had your boy up there
And eventually you and it reconnected
I mean it is what it is right?
Yeah so I gotta go
I just needed to let you know I was sorry I hallucinated our whole relationship, and wasted so much of your time trying to convince you it was real
That we were a something
My meds work much better now
So does my detection of manipulation and games
Ok we'll, I for one feel better
Closure, it's an awesome thing right?
And hey, you didn't even have to say jack ****!
Just like you like
Haha, roll ya eyes but the truth can be annoying I know
Alright then... It's been real
Or fake
However you wanna look at it
I don't care anymore
No don't say anything, another bold face lie will send me into a blinding rage
No I'm not kidding
Alrighty, so my cars over there, so just don't me a favor..
Just keep quiet so I can savor this one truthful moment we had
And then forget why the **** I was talking you in the first place

There is a scuffle happening at the club tonight
You see a few drinking people having a fight
They are using fists and legs
And boy can they kick
One of their names is the mighty ****
You see they get drunk and
Act like a clot
But deep down they are suffering I kid you not
Because they are being teased or even fought
They just want to be left alone
You see they watch the footy
And ghetto cheer real loud
And as they watch they try and figure out who is in the crowd
They see a friend who said he is at work, well not many people come to work in his fave teams clothes on
Then this man came into the pub
It was Ernie banks and he was a snob
He only cared for the rich
And the poor can go and get ******
So we went up to him and we said why are you such a snob
You like tony Abbott and scott Morrison and why oh why is that
A scuffle broke out in the club tonight the snob throws the first but then he got bashed
Then they said you are not getting kidnapped or abducted
You are just getting bashed at this club the snob said no just leave me alone and they said no
Your still like us
Stay with us because you are a snob and then in walks the snobs brother rob he said I know he is like us but he is better than that please leave him the **** alone
Carn all the dudes let’s party, man
Now the snob is gone from this great pub

This is not a poem.
This is something I must say.
When struggling with anger,
When in a war with one's self,
fighting an endless, raging ocean of emotions,
one must find peace within.
I can go through the day and not be bothered,
I can gain the upper hand in any argument,
I am peaceful, happy, and healthy.
There are reasons for this,
reasons which are often mistaken
and I must beg you not to mistake them.
Just because I meditate,
does not mean I am a buddhist,
or am in a cult.
Because I eat much fruit
and smoothies
does not mean I'm an "L.A. snob"
Because my body is in shape and in tune with itself from Yoga,
again, does not have any connection to a religion
and does not make me an "L.A. snob"
Tai Chi,
Yoga,
Juicing,
Pilates,
Meditation,
Active in politics,
ecologically aware,
philosophical readings,
does not bind me to any one thing in particular.
You judge,
you sneer,
you make your silly little assumptions
and snort when I suggest you try it.
Caring about the world around me,
Knowing my body,
how to stay healthy and how to use it,
Understanding our impact on this Earth,
is not a crime.
Adults,
you laugh in my face and tell me I am silly,
that I am ignorant and easily manipulated
simply because I am opinionated when it comes to those who run our country.

I have become a better person and the world refuses to accept it
due to how I got here.
Meditation was my first step, and I implore you to do the same.
Not for religion, rebellion, attention, or because someone said so,
do it for yourself.
Meditation is clearing your mind, teaching yourself to be patient,
and focus. When having a bad day and someone bumps into you,
you can just as easily get angry and irritated,
or you could brush it off.
You see, meditation is a way to clear your mind.
I'm not saying it's the only way, or that it's the best,
but it's a way that helped me.
I'm not converting you,
I'm not pestering you,
I'm asking you,
because when I see that you're unhappy,
the kind of irritable, unhappy, aching person I used to be,
I want to see you be your best,
I mean no harm,
I simply want you to be happy.

This is not a poem.
This is a thing I must say.
To the adult upstairs who screams at me for being a religious, selfish, ignorant, horrible person,
simply because I found something that helps me, be a better me.
To the sneering strangers who think me odd for dressing in dark colors and conservatively, because the reason couldn't possibly be that I like the color, or that I prefer conservative clothes,
no, it's because I'm a satanic devil worshiper, and a *****.
To the snickering teenagers who run off to drink, smoke, and fill a void because they do not understand that.... that what?
I see these teenagers come to school with tears in their eyes and bruises on their heart,
I see them flinch in an instant from being vulnerable to vicious and vindictive, brushing it off and laughing at something that is not socially acceptable.

Do not do things for others.
Do them for yourself.
I cuss,
I have fun,
I act crazy,
but also poised,
knowledgable,
looked down upon as a degenerate,
but I simply don't care,
because I'm healthy, strong, opinionated,
driven, confident, understanding,
tactile,  and most importantly.
I'm happy.




Also Dapper,
Very dapper,
Dapper is a great word.
:)

Autistically
speaking
I applaud
your intelligence!

flap flap
clap clap

when you
don't think
before
you think

flap flap
clap clap

or open your
*******
******* mouth!

and disparage
and belittle
those with

a learning
disability.

But then maybe
It's you who is
disabled
as you don't
seem able to
distinguish
between what
is right and wrong
what is cruel and kind

flap flap
clap clap

in your ignorance
you are blind
and your
intellectual mind
is a snob
of the worse kind

Looking down
from your high brow
because you
are so clever

I forget
Let's all applaud
and you can remark
(Out of context of course)
that they're all ******* retards

flap flap
clap clap

Well aren't you hard!
You bully when
you say

the dimwits
and the morons,
unloveable,
undateable,
unwanted,
a drain of society
they should all be
put down.

Not somebody
you would choose
to be friends with
or if you did
it would be so you
take advantage of
an idiots good nature
and pure heart!

flap flap
clap clap

Or so you
could look good
in comparison
to them
and maybe it
would knock your
own IQ up
a number or two!

Your average ******
could teach you a
thing about numbers
if you asked them

And you wouldn't want
your own kids
playing
with them
incase they catch it....

Catch what?....
the ability to be
awesome
to think outside
the box
to see feel and
understand
and experience
the world and
people in a
completely
unheard of way.
To smell colours
and taste words,
and your inability
to deviate from
anything other
than your narrow
little mind
really is absurd!

So let's all clap
and flap flap
flap flap flap
and maybe
shriek a bit too!

They are the true
freethinkers
the true misfits
the pure and
the truly blessed

They are
the ones
the people
who are
"different"
"Individual"
as you
would like
to be

flap flap
clap clap
You ignorant ****!

Autistically speaking

Who's the ****** now?



©Jacqui Slade

Dear poet's  of Hello.
After some thinking ive come to realize  theres one thing this
site and a few of my friends here really need to embrace more often.
The truth.

Im known as a clown but I do not fear speaking my mind.
Ive faced far more challenging things in my life than worring
over if people like me or not  what has this place become highschool?

I read comments well to be honest I know  that people dont mean
theres poems on here ive seen on the charts for months that to be honest dont desserve the comments they get but people are to scared to  be honest and speak there mind.

Why?
Thats the big question and I see no clear answer.
The backstabbing and ******* here makes me really rethink
just why im here.

But ive met some good friends here and I respect them no matter if i like there work or not.
I dont expect people to lie and say they like something when they dont  just speak your mind use some manners of course  but what are you all so scared of?

Look theres alot of crap here that makes little or no sense.
The charts are a joke.
And I have friends here who talk about how much they hate something only to comment on it and be two faced.

Im not gonna call people out you know who you are.
Do you really think your helping anyone by blowing smoke up there ***?

Im sorry if I offend people with this but feelings will always be hurt
and  not everyone is gonna get along.
Writting is not my hobby it's  not something I do  cause  im some moody  spoiled snob that thinks his life is so hard cause in reallity.

Ive lived a life I wouldnt wish on anyone I know the true meaning of pain  I didnt grow up having **** handed to me.
Yet no life is easy.
Writting to me is like breathing  I have no choice.  

But the stuff im seeing here is straight up *******.
People kissing each others ***  then talking about how they **** behind there back.

Saying what friends we are only to secretly despise each other.
I speak my mind if i tell you i like your work it's cause i do but really honestly how can you criticize someone's self expression to me you cant.

Im no better than anyone else and after posting this I figure alot of people will probaly think im a **** but  at least I have the courage to be myself.

Lets try to at least not turn this place into Poetry Soup.
That place is a highschool of clicks  and  sad people who act like children  hell the kids there act more mature than the adults.

People fear honesty and I know coming fro0m me this is the last thing you expected  but i had to get this off my chest.
Great writers  werent worried with if you liked what they did or how many people  liked them.

I respect you all but all I ask is  to be more honest with each other.
Cause this place is turning into a zoo and no one seems to be running the asylum.

Speak your mind cause if you dont know one will ever know your true voice.

Thank you and  if I offended at least I made you think.

I think light beer is for *******
that is all. . .

they think
there crap.
doesn't sink.
it does real bad.
they think
world own them
living or
something.
it doesn't.
i try to be nice
but they **** on me
what wrong here.
i'am nice. they are
blank in the head.
at times.so sad so sad
mental head girl.

A ******* on the cornerstreet pole
A prisoner tatted in sleeve,
A girl and boy who lost their soul
I am them, they are me!!!

The ****** in the alley
The sickened lost and starved
The cancerous and the sicken!!

All together they come hard...

The nurse in midnight hours
The firemen in redberry truck
The bullied and innocent
The wartorn kids of greed and lust

The gangster beat in
The one stuck in sin
The demon possessed of men
The marvel sitting in the corner

The wearied, burdened and lost
The one who feel of no worth
Queens and kings at such a cost

The artist and the poet
Sit hand in hand and watch
They can see all the beauty in the pain
That the rich class forgot!!!!

PARTY ZONE WITH DAVE AND SUE JANUARY 3 2015







DAVID’     HI DUDES AND WELCOME TO PARTY ZONE, AND ON TODAY’S SHOW, WE ARE AT

THE AAA NITE CLUB, IN GAREMA PLACE, AND TONIGHT WE HAVE ENTERTAINMENT FROM

PETE NOWNEY, WHO IS PERFORMING AT AAA NIGHT CLUB, THEN SUE LONGWAYS

GETS A FEW OF THE CLUB’S PATRONS TO PERFORM A FEW DRINKING SONGS OF THEIR PAST

AND HERE IS SUE WITH ERNIE PIGFEST

SUE’,  HI I AM SUE LONGWAYS, AND WE HAVE A GREAT DRINKING GAME TO SING, OK ERNIE TAKE IT AWAY

ERNIE’   21 BOTTLES OF BOURBON ON THE WALL, AND A FULL BOTTLE OF SCOTCH

YOU BETTER GET YA COTTON PICKING HANDS OFF IT, OR I’LL PUNCH YOU IN THE GOB, AND MAKE YA A SNOB

YOU SEE DRINKING GAMES ARE SO MUCH FUN

YEAH, THEY ARE FUN, OH YEAH, YA SEE WE HAVE CHIPS AND BURGERS AS WELL

AND A NICE CAN OF BEER, OR JUG OF BEER, WHATEVER YA RECKON, MATE

IT’S GETTING CLOSE TO  HALF PAST EIGHT

SUE’   THANKS, ERNIE, AND HOP IN THE HOT TUB AND NOW HERE IS **** LEARY

****’  I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT, I REALLY WANNA MOVE IT MOVE IT

I WANNA PARTY PARTY, AND I WANNA GET DRESSED UP AS A REAL SMARTIE

OH SLICK, YOUR A ****, YOU HAVE NO BRAINS, LIKE A REAL SPASTIC

I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT, I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT

I REALLY WANNA SHAKE MY THANG, I REALLY WANNA SHAKE MY THANG

I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT

GO QUICK, YOUR A ****, YOUR A BRAINLESS TWIT WHO IS SPASTIC

I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT, MOVE IT MOVE IT

I WANNA HEAD TO EVERY CLUB IN THE CANBERRA CBD

OH YEAH THIS IS THE TIME WHERE WE REALLY PARTY

COME ON GUYS, GET WIGGLY WITH IT GET JIGGLY WITH IT

I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT

SUE’  THANKS AND NOW OVER TO, YO  DAVID AND HIS INTERVIEW WITH PETE NOWNEY, HERE GOES

DAVID’   OK THANKS AND NOW PETE, YOU HAVE JUST FINISHED YA GIG

AND YOU GOT A FEW PEOPLE DANCING ON THE FLOOR

AND I HAVE THIS LITTLE GIFT FOR YOU, IT IS THIS, HAVE A PEAK INSIDE

PETE’   YEAH, THIS IS WHAT I ALWAYS WANTED, A ***** DOLL

DAVID’   YEAH, BUT, IT’S NOT A ***** DOLL,

PETE’   NO, WHAT IS IT, SOME KIND OF TORTURE PRESENT FOR MY BIRTHDAY OR SUMMIT

DAVID’   NO, IT’S A ORDINARY DOLL, YOU ONCE TOLD ME, YOUR DAUGHTER LOVES DOLLS

SO I BROUGHT THIS IN TO SHOW YOU

PETE’  WELL, DAVID IT’S PRETTY RAD, I CAN GUARANTEE THAT MY DAUGHTER WILL LOVE IT

DAVID’   I NOTICED YOUR FIRST SONG, BEING THE LITTLE LOVE IN MY LIFE, IS THAT ABOUT YOUR DAUGHTER

PETE’    NO, AND YES, NO IT’’S NOT MY DAUGHTER, BUT IT’S ABOUT THE MOTHER OF MY DAUGHTER, YA SEE

WE MET ON THE SYDNEY HARBOUR BRIDGE, I NEARLY FELL IT WAS BAD, DUDE

DAVID’’     DID YOU GET TO SEE THEM ON CHRISTMAS

PETE’    YEAH, AND I HAVE MY DAUGHTER WITH ME, TO SING O COME ALL YE FAITHFUL, YA SEE EVERY YEAR

WE CHOOSE A CAROL TO SING, AND THIS YEAR, O COME ALL YE FAITHFUL, AND I KNOW IT’S JANUARY 3 2015

BUT I WOULD LOVE TO SING WITH MY DAUGHTER STEF, OK SHE IS 10 THIS YEAR

DAVID’   OK TAKE IT AWAY PETE AND STEF

PETE AND STEF’

O COME ALL YE FAITHFUL

JOYFUL AND TRIUMPHANT

O COME YE O COME YE

TO BETHLEHEM

O COME AND BEHOLD HIM

BORN THE KING OF ANGELS

O COME LET US ADORE HIM

O COME LET US ADORE HIM

O COME LET US ADORE HIM

IN CHRIST THE LORD

SING CHIORS OF ANGELS

SING IN EXULTATION

SING ALL YE CITIZENS OF HEAVEN ABOVE

GLORY TO GOD, IN THE HIGHEST

O COME LET US ADORE HIM

O COME LET US ADORE HIM

O COME LET US ADORE HIM

IN CHRIST THE LORD

DAVID’  STEF, YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL VOICE, ARE YOU

PLANNING TO GO ON AUSTRALIA’S GOT TALENT OR THE VOICE THIS YEAR

STEFF’   WELL, I WOULD BUT DADDY AT P.RESENT WANTS TO BE THE ONLY SINGER

IN THE FAMILY

DAVID’   OK THAT IS ALL, AND NOW OVER TO SUE, WITH ANOTHER DRINKING SONG

SUE’   OK HERE IS ANOTHER DRINKING SONG, FROM KENNETH

KEN’   I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE COCKTAILS WITH GORDON

YEAH, IT’LL BE FUN TO HAVE COCKTAILS WITH HIM

YA SEE DRINKING COCKTAILS WITH GORDON

IS WAY WAY BETTER THAN DRINKING WITH KIM

CAUSE KIM IS A BIT OF A *****, AND CRAZY TO BOOT

I  LOVE TO HAVE COCKTAILS WITH GORDON, AND SPEND ALL HIS LOOT

I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE A BEER WITH YOU, SUE

YEAH, I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE MANY BEERS WITH YOU

YA SEE SUE LONGWAYS, I REALLY ADMORED YA FROM A DISTANCE

AND WHEN YOU DRINK BEER AFTER YOUR 3RD OR 4TH

YA WILL LET OUT A MIGHTY BIG SPEW

IT WILL LOOK DISCUSTING, OH MAN, IT WILL OK

I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE A BEER WITH YOU SUE

CAUSE YOUR A TRUE DUDE

SUE’   THANKS KEN SEE YA NEXT WEEK, NOW HERE’S DAVID

DAVID’   OK, THANKS TO ALL OF OUR SONGSTARS AND PETE AND STEFF

AND THE OTHERS, SO SEE YA NEXT WEEK ON PARTY ZONE JANUARY 3

The difference between the sprout and the bean is a golden ring*
"It's a racket."
I really was being a snob

I never lied
I wish you weren't ashamed of me

I wish I wasn't ashamed at myself
for not hating you as much as I know I do
and for breaking my streak

I wish you didn't lie to me
Whether you lied about how much you cared
Whether you lied to yourself when you let slip that you missed me
Whether you lied to me when you let slip that you missed me
Whether you lied to me about her to make me feel bad.

I never lied.
I wish you didn't pretend I did.

"I show her that I love her.
I hug her.
I kiss her.
I tell her that I love her."

I've never loved anybody
I've never hated anybody
but now...
I might feel both at the same time
and I don't know how to handle that

"He has done nothing except make you feel like ******* ****. You are done with that *******. Done."

Now I remember.

But I also remember other things.

I hate remembering

Do you remember me?