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.

It's not cute,
I don't find it funny.
The lack of concern for education,
And your glasses aren't cute either.

I'm growing quite tired of the lame leaders.
Expectation to teach the future generation.
The warriors, in a future of unknowing,
By the ignorant, traditionalist.

And I could sit here all day,
Catching glints of light off your hip glasses.
Peppered with egocentric, infantile remarks.
So cute
The lack of education
So cute
The lack of nutrition
So cute
The false profits; the obtuse teachers
So cute
Your hip glasses.

Some girls just like something very traditional. does that make them any less of a woman. can a woman be a traditionalist and still be a feminist? I think so. I think that what we shared in that time was exactly what we wanted, to fall back into structured and secure roles, because we'd been through the centrifuge lately. And that may not have been who the both of us were at heart, but it worked to heal us, to make us both better for the future, and most importantly, less cynical. I think that what is most feminist about any relationship is the ability to choose. I've been in relationships where I'm the dominant one, and others where I'm not. It takes the ability to check your own self and being a pragmatist, because if you love someone you will change for them. You won't change your personality, but you'll change the way you approach a relationship if you care about them enough. I think that's what feminism boils down to. Allowing both partners to choose their roles in the relationship instead of having them chosen for them. So, **** it, my girl wants to be Susie Homemaker; that's her choice and I lay my head on that.

Take me by the hips-
I’ll devour your lies like the spit on my lips.
Thumbs pressing into my collar bones-
I’ll be your throne.

I starve myself for you to fill me
This infatuation will **** me.

Nose ******-
Am I your honey?
Text me once a week-
This only means something to me.

We’re a one sided thing
But you’re the centerpiece of my dreams;
The consummation of my demons.

I've noticed your scheming smile but
I haven’t felt so
Hopelessly enraptured in a while.

Destroy me,
Please
Don’t mind my scabby knees.

I have a habit of falling
In and out of logic
But
You aren't a project
No not someone I want to fix-
That bag of rocks
Is just a box of tricks.

You’re a train and I'm sitting on your tracks
It’s just a count down until we smash into oblivion
Aphrodite,
I’m your Gideon.
We aren't apart of the same story
But mines 16th century,
And the glory has faded into the pages
from decades of irrelevant stages.
.
I hopped across bindings
And stereotypical findings
Because maybe
You’re meant for me.

Maybe I’m pushing too hard but
Our histories are intertwining and
the mysteries you decided
To pick apart;
Well they’re coming back to haunt you.

We collided over a fire
And an irregular heart beat
set by amphetamines;
You don’t know what you did to me.

Fever dreams when the fan is on low
Vacant thoughts make the hours hollow
You’re alive,
I know it but you only surface for me
When you want to see how quickly I’ll come
Eat out your hand
you extend
so

Selectively.

I shouldn't feel so honored that you've chosen me
But those eyes,
God those eyes.

I can’t stop swimming through them when I close mine.

I can see galaxies spinning in your pupils as
The sunrise begs to begin,
But noon will come and I’m buried in
Your possibilities
So effortlessly imagined;
So impossibly enacted.

You distract me from reality.
You are the thing that will never be.

You’re toxic-
A poison.
A deadly,
Delicious treat.

I’m voracious for the heat of your breath
On my neck once again.
Fingers on my chin-
Tilt it until our eyes align.

What a disastrous lie-
I’d die for you, spy.

I am not a traditionalist;
I believe newness makes more sense.
So I make it up as I go along,
and my footfalls make a sort of song
rending silence till sunlight appears
And dew spreads like the sweet earth's tears.
Some stories are written, some left untold;
I'll write my own, before I get old.
There comes a fork in the road; decide-
I take whichever one feels right inside.
When you have no destination, any path is fine.
Some think that's a negative; I think it's sublime.
We put too many expectations, constraints on ourselves.
It's not good to worry; it's bad for your health.
Sometimes I wonder if human life is so short
because we spend it anxious about the hours we hoard.
That which you hold closest will slip through your grasp,
and our lives are so fragile, brittle as glass.
It's better to wander this world without direction;
let things come to you-and stop chasing perfection.

what do you say in a traditional wedding toast?
I’m not a traditionalist
I’m a poet
I’m not too good at structured, sentimental texts
i speak in chopped verses so
here’s my non-traditional, non-structured, sentimental wedding toast
in verse

my memories
flash and fade quickly like lights flicker on and off
i'm toddling around the house right behind you
where are you going?
can i come too?

i'm barefoot in the driveway washing your car
you took pictures, no doubt laughing at the streaks we left on the windows because, shortness

i'm sitting on the bus rifling through your purse like the nosy little kid I am
you're chaperoning one of my school field trips
one of the aids asks if you're my mother
you chuckle and say "nope, i'm her sister"
i roll my eyes because isn't it obvious we're sisters?
okay, it wasn't obvious we're sisters

i'm bouncing down the hallway to your room
stopping suddenly at the sight of packing boxes
college
you're leaving me
"we'll be okay" you said
i believed you even though i could have sworn
i was losing my sister to the big city for good
we wrote letters
we skyped
we emailed
and i called you
so many times
we were okay

fifth grade, you bring a guy home
but not just any guy
i think we all knew this one was different
i saw it in your eyes
i was only 11 but i knew what love looked like

b, you always told me i was the wind beneath your wings
you can't break the bond of sisterhood
you just can't
but maybe the bonds will loosen
i thank you for the memories
they were fantastic and i'm looking forward to seeing what the future has in store for us
i'm thinking
babies would be nice
In time...

so my dear sister,
tell me how married life is
i hope this night was everything you always dreamed of

nick, you've got to be
the happiest guy in the world right now

i'm only 16 but i know what love looks like
it looks like his gaze on her glowing beauty
it looks like a promise of forevers proclaimed in front of loved ones
it looks like my sister
finding her other half
and my brother in law
finding his.

-rgp

because what's actually worth celebrating? well, i always celebrate another bunch of words, another litre of ***, and, most obviously: another tomorrow.*

for a long time now i have
seized to celebrate
birthdays...
    only this year have
i stopped "celebrating" easter:
coming from a traditionalist
family,
   with my great-grandmother
dead for several years
everyone in the family
joked: she said enough prayers
for all of us...
  my great-grandfather
   took the micky out her in
that lovingly joking way anyway
he used to say:
  you and your crows (priests,
that's the slang term for
a priest in poland) -
      i can't remember
  the last time i celebrated christmas,
or should it be called:
adverts from november through
to january marketing mecca
"holiday"?
    but it breaks my heart
with regards to birthdays,
   i don't celebrate it -
    fair enough up to 25...
but a bit like receiving voting rights,
i think people have the potential
to relinquish their celebration
of something that's cake-worthy
once the teenage years end...
nonetheless...
    on the dot,
         i receive the phone call
on the day...
    my grandparents...
      wishing me this that & the other...
and... that's it!
         it's actually more painful
to receive that phonecall,
   than to receive: no phonecall
with besh wishes and what not.
   i grew out the candles,
  the balloons...
                   what is to be celebrated,
may i ask?
              as the cliche says:
women lie about their age anyway,
if they found a way to avoid
the celebratory antics -
    me? i'm just waiting for my
grandparents to die...
             cruel, i know,
   but it's much more cruel to receive
a phonecall from them,
"wishing" me a happy birthday...
   day like any one...  
now, if i remembered squeezing past
the genital skin of my mother...
that would be something...
thankfully, man's faculty of memory
and therefore being conscious
comes much much later,
                 thank god for that.

Oh my Lord, these people.
They point at me and say (oh my God).
They look at me and say (oh my Lord)
I got my own belief, oh my God these people.
Oh my God, oh my Lord, your people;
They make me feel high, who is their Lord.
Let me get my glasses off, who is your Lord?
Oh my God, oh my ancient God these people.

Oh my God, evangelist point fingers at traditionalist
Oh, my Lord, traditionalists point fingers at evangelists.
Oh, my savior, I question myself, did they know you?
Oh my Savior, have you called this evangelist.
Oh my God, do you know this traditionalist?
Oh my God, a double standard in this spiritualist.

-Written By: The Senior 11/03/2022

dear j,

i'm trying not to allow my emotions get the best of me.
i won't lie and tell you that that isn't hard,
because it is.
that's all i've ever been.
a little ball of intense emotions, longing to unravel, simultaneously scared to let you see because i fear you'd abandon me after being vulnerable.
i've learned that fear, is a liar.
it drives us to hesitate...procrastinate...prolong inaction.
so i also learned something about myself.
my fears exist because things are so important to me, i don't want to lose them.
and you are one of those things.

last night,
i stood in front of the mirror hanging on my bedroom wall
as an intrusive revelation danced through my head...
i've always hated myself for feeling so connected to others that i feel an unhealthy attachment.
and if i'm honest, that has never been "poison" for another...
it has only ever been "poison" to myself.
some people's chemicals combine awfully with ours and a toxic chemical reaction occurs damaging our outlook on the world, love, and ourselves...
while some people's chemicals combine smoothly, beautifully, naturally, and organically enhancing our outlook on love, challenging our perspective on the world, and supporting our mindset of ourselves.
call me mad...but i realize that i am not co-dependent either.
i have never felt like i needed anyone in order to feel complete..
at least not anymore..
"be with someone you WANT to be with,"
my mother says to me...
"not someone you NEED..."

i've never wanted someone
before i saw you..

i know who i am.
i feel complete on my own.
i love feeling independent.
i feel comfortable being by myself (not that i always love it...that would be lonely & selfish of me).
i'm aware i am equipped with everything i need within (though you are my compliment).
i can emphasize & embrace myself.
i can be deep, true, & authentic.
i am confident in what i'm crafted to do in this life...
this one life...

i love who i am.
i feel beautiful & happy in my own skin that i don't depend on other's words to view myself as worthy or valuable.
i used to hate my sensitivity in this wicked world but now i realize that it is a gift...
it is a rarity
and i will never allow anyone to convince me otherwise.
i wouldn't rather be anything or anyone else.

i want you in my life.
and that's my problem now.
you no longer want me in yours.

i called you..
you picked up on the third try..
then hung up after one second
like it was an accident.
was it?

i learned three things.
1) promises were meant to be broken.
2) perhaps i'm the only one in it for "we".
3) your love is conditional..

i'd love you no matter where we are or
what circumstances we are in...making the most of what we would have, through the thick and thin.
while you will only love me now if circumstances are...perfect.

my present best will not be my forever best.
i've not asked for too much..
and neither have you, love...

my one question for the evening is;
if we can have each other some day..if we met again..
would you still want me?
would you want us . . .

sincerely,
d

Every time
I see young rebels
it's send a caution to me
even more to
be an old traditionalist..

Ridiculous seditionist,
I wonder what his
cretinous position is
in this cuz,
he isn't a traditionalist
and censorship
is not a hardship
for this fake populist
wanna be ******* fascist.

How can I many ways can I say

"I'm disappointed"

Maybe I'm a traditionalist

Expecting you to provide where I can't

Expecting you to clean when I provide

Expecting you to try harder

I'm tired of feeling like a criminal.

It's like being writ into some melodramatic hit show,
playing the ******* who just can't commit no matter how far she's willing to go.

Check the thirst pic. I'm only here to give ****.

The epitome of undesirable megalomaniacal hit-it-and-quit-it,
I'm-only-in-it-for-the-**** type ****.

Not interested in a relationship.

When you say things like that, it has no effect.
I can't feel any of that.

We can wine and dine first, if you're a traditionalist.

Just setting the stage for the main event. Give it 'til she gets it so she can tell all her friends: best I've ever had. **** like your poor with demons on your back. After curtain call, skip the bow and exit stage-left.