"whitney" poems
Mozart,
deaf,
died, eventually.
Picasso, pervert, died; Whitney, Winehouse, drugs, dead; Elvis, Methamphetamine, died
(on the toilet).
Van Gogh,
missing an earlobe,
died.
Plath,
head in an oven,
in front of her kids,
Woolf
Patron saint of insanity, I guess
waded into a river and-
River. River Phoenix. Drugs.
Natalie Merchant wrote that song about him in 1995.
Flash forward.
Me, twenty-one, drunk.
Proprietor of a collection of lackluster poems.
Sold their small, nonbinary soul to the Devil
in exchange for a fortune,
gone.
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 6:49 PM UTC
An abstract of an academic paper written by a doctoral student: "In this semimanifesto, I approach how understandings of quantum physics and cyborgian bodies can (or always already do) ally with feminist anti-oppression practices long in use. The idea of the body (whether biological, social, or of work) is not stagnant, and new materialist feminisms help to recognize how multiple phenomena work together to behave in what can become legible at any given moment as a body. By utilizing the materiality of conceptions about connectivity often thought to be merely theoretical, by taking a critical look at the noncentralized and multiple movements of quantum physics, and by dehierarchizing the necessity of linear bodies through time, it becomes possible to reconfigure structures of value, longevity, and subjectivity in ways explicitly aligned with anti-oppression practices and identity politics. Combining intersectionality and quantum physics can provide for differing perspectives on organizing practices long used by marginalized people, for enabling apparatuses that allow for new possibilities of safer spaces, and for practices of accountability."--an abstract of a paper by doctoral student Whitney Stark
Atomic particles, how can it be so
that your purpose is not just to flow
in and out of existence, building reality--
the stars, cosmic gas and galaxies--
but to “ally” with groups of humans fighting “hierarchies”
and demanding “safe spaces”
(even though their entire race is
at the top of their planet’s food chain).
In this mysterious universe there is no safety,
accountability or identity,
only elements, and energy.
Brief combinations make life
legible for a nanosecond in cosmic time, and doomed to strife.
Biology does not know oppression,
only generation, reproduction,
until our growth chokes us and we fall
like so many of our ancestors, who lived and died
on this blue-green ball.
And one day the sun will explode and blow
even our atoms, which have endured (despite oppression),
and the particles will go far until maybe they sow
new life, in bodies unfamiliar, on planets unknown.
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 9:31 AM UTC
men and their egos (I turned twenty this summer) are
inseparable
insufferable
begrudgingly
they admit “guess you were right”
believing that will make them heroes,
by full on confessing they are ********
I turned twenty in the summer
my tan legs in cutoffs (it’s summer) drives them to madness,
accused, you are pitiless, for their dreams of you involve ransom
still, you
search and quiet plead like Abraham, to the heated air,
while listening to Whitney Houston and Ed Sheeran,
(on your earbuds just so nobody knows your weakness)
for just that one good man in the township of
***** and Gomorrah
my mother bitter sneers good luck with that,
forgetting I am now twenty years
so old, so advanced,
that my hopes and aspirations are no longer those
the ones in my high school yearbook
my poetry fills pages,
a human urban renewal,
laying out a city of hope
recalling that ***** and Gemorrah were destroyed
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 11:49 AM UTC
rihanna and lana del rey
please don't become her
one day
dorothy dandridge
whitney houston
marilyn monroe
anna nicole
their sadness I did know
beautiful and broken
the pain never let go
the men, the drugs,
the heartache followed
they were all a living example:
misery is captivating
and beauty is shallow
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 9:28 PM UTC
*No, no, no, Dirtbreath. I say we call the big one an elephant,
and the small one a mouse*.
Eve
I'm sure red's a better color for me.
M. Monroe
She has a face that could sink a thousand ships.
Ulysses
*Now that Hawking's dead, I'm the smartest
guy on Earth.*
D. Trump
You're too Jung to understand the Superego.
S. Freud
No. You keep it. I have enough.
B. Graham
Are you sure that's the Delaware?
G. Washington
E=Mc Donalds.
A. Einstein
Go pound salt.
Gandhi
What day is it?
Roosevelt
That's one small.... oops!
N. Armstrong
I don't remember any of my dreams.
M.L. King, Jr.
Hey, John, I can see your house from up here.
Jesus
Beaches, fields, streets, hills. Did I leave anything out?
W. Churchill
Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course I wrote 'em all.
R. Starr
It's just too big to wrap your brain around.
S. Hawking
Don't lose your head. This won't change a thing.
Robespierre
Before I was fined, I walked the line.
J. Cash
Could you lengthen the title and shorten the book?
Tolstoy's editor
What if we put the workers on conveyor belts?
H. Ford
I have a splitting headache... hmmm, interesting.
Oppenheimer
I've never liked orange juice.
N. Brown
Really? You want to blame me?
******
He stings like a butterfly.
S. Liston
#timesup #metoo
A. Boleyn
Mr. Watson. Come here. Spare me a dime?
Bell
Roebuck said he'd be back in ten minutes.
R.W. Sears
To be or to do be do be do.
Shakespeare/Sinatra
*When you call me Whitey, I get cotton pickin ****** off.*
E. Whitney
We're the team to beat!
Toronto Maple Leafs
Don't call me a Mother!
Mother Theresa
Is that a Cuban?
M. Lewinsky
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 6:50 AM UTC
I abuse words verbally like my voice is Bobby and the dictionary Whitney/
Like a literary hyperbole properly arranged to explain this deranged brutality perfectly/
Force the English language to work for me like a particularly dark time in history/
Optimistically take the tongue twister trickery and aggressively attack a vocabulary vocally and personally/
Not physically but a barrage on your psyche, almost psychedelically/
Use words medically, like a surgeon I expertly plant thoughts whispered softly but assertively/
Moving letters like chess pawns to express thoughts masterfully and creatively/
Gruesomely grotesque but gorgeous thoughts written down beautifully/
You can't help but hear the perplexity of mythoticly placed words with comradery/
An oddity with the audacity to raise the bar and up the capacity/
Because what comes out of me has to be exactly what you see because it is me/
Not just a part of me but all of me/
I'm not a fallen tree sitting in the forest silently, quietly all by my lonely/
It's just the opposite actually and factually/
I will attack with a dialect so violent you violently retract causing you to react cowardly automatically/
I don't even have to lift a pinky, leave it stinky/
Let my words linger there in the air like **** smoke, thick and sticky/
Periodically come back to peek and see if you've figured out the mystery and found the key/
One that'll decipher decisively what it is that I've let out of me and spread to all humanity/
I could never have planned it, see, it had to happen naturally, organically if you will/
And not to build it up falsely but I honestly, back then, didn't have the ***** to let it out of me and it cost me considerably/
So now this mastery I hold of word delivery bestowed to me gets jotted down feverishly/
With an intensity equal to none inside of this ******* century, can't censor me/
Got a consistency that forces me to constantly cross the border of insanity repeatedly/
Time only to watch my talents as they literally wither away for all of eternity/
Such a tragedy to see such agony but please, no apology brought on by sympathy/
Just let me be as I drift farther out to sea to a place you'll never see/
To let these words mold me into someone you could never be/
©2018
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 4:00 AM UTC
if I could be any one of your body parts I’d
be your fingertips.
when you break my gaze on screen, I yearn for it like
a lost child.
keep pushing others out of the way at aquariums so I can
touch the stingrays
and nudge my calves with your nose when you
want to be brushed
I promise to always remember where your car is parked,
if you let me keep that photo of you as a young pilot
in my pocket
in public spaces, we fill the
air between us with supernovas.
you are Sirius
you are the lobster
you are the look across the room at a party;
feel my phantom hands on your shoulders
I’ll crawl into the nape of your neck and make a home
plaster myself across your skin so you can find me
in the grooves of your hands
I’ll sew my words into your sheets so you will never be without them
promise me you’ll comb out your tangled hair if it gets too much
and wait for me by the Whitney
as I walk 341 miles for you.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 11:43 PM UTC
WHITNEY HOUSTON LYRICS
"I Will Always Love You"
If I should stay
I would only be in your way
So I'll go but I know
I'll think of you every step of the way
And I... will always love you, ooh
Will always love you
You
My darling, you...
Mmm-mm
Bittersweet memories –
That is all I'm taking with me.
So good-bye.
Please don't cry:
We both know I'm not what you, you need
And I... will always love you
I... will always love you
You, ooh
[Instrumental / Sax solo]
I hope life treats you kind
And I hope you have all you've dreamed of
And I wish you joy and happiness
But above all this I wish you love
And I... will always love you
I will always love you
I will always love you
I will always love you
I will always love you
I, I will always love you.
You.
Darling, I love you.
I'll always...
I'll always love you.
Ooh
Ooh
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC
Ek skrik die 10de Augustus wakker.
Iets voel verkeerd, so swaar, so leeg.
Met 'n knop in my keel raak my gemoed swakker.
Min het ek geweet, dat treur so swaar kon weeg.
Vaagweg **** ek, "I look to you"
"And when melodies are gone"
"I hear you in a song"
Ouma was ons eie Whitney Houston
Haar sterk gees was ons rots.
Al het ons met tye lekker koppe gebots.
Sy was my vestiging, ons familie se trots.
Mag die rose in Bloemfontein altyd ouma se naam onthou.
Die pragtige rooikop dogtertjie in liefde toegevou.
Ouma se omgee het my soveel keer gered.
Die dankbaarheid gekoester in my mooiste gebed.
Mag die voëltjies altyd bly sing
Terwyl ouma se stories mooi herinneringe bring
Ouma was altyd bereid om te help
Vol genade het ouma, harde harte versmelt
Mag oupa altyd verlief bly
Sodat ons verdwaaldes, ook die regte prentjie kan kry
'n 53 - jaar, onvoorwaarlike liefde verhaal
So opreg, en eerlik, die mooiste mylpaal
Dankie dat ouma my aanvaar het vir wie ek is
Al sit ek heel wat die potte mis
Dankie vir alles wat ek by ouma kon leer
Dankie vir elke drukkie, vergifnis, keer op keer.
Dankie vir elke koppie soet tee
Vir al die miljoene trane wat ouma moes afvee
Dankie dat julle vir my alles kon gee
Dat hulle harte net liefde kon skree
Dankie dat ouma my veilig kon hou
Ons verlang alreeds, en sal verewig onthou.
Ons bly, onvoorwaarlik lief vir jou.
Ek gaan ouma mis, al my liefde, Thomas.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 2:52 AM UTC
I sat on top of the world; everyone knew my name
Now I try to find my way back, all I know is shame
My cars; crashed into parties, everyone wanted to be in my fancy wear
Why didn’t I look up investing and insuring; now I don’t mind if its rag, please just give me something to wear
My name was held in high esteem, white line called to me from Whitney’s rear
She never came back for me, but watched as I derail
Day and Night, I looked up to Whiskey, it became my religion
Now at the altar in search of salvation from the true religion
♚
Kunbi Dia
Dec 14, 2020
Dec 14, 2020 at 6:56 PM UTC
Nothing is going to protect us from the human condition
We can have fortune and fame
Be on the top of our game
We can be a rocker
in Lost Wages
We can be a woman with a small child
Trying to do welfare to work
We can dance the tango with a Friday night ****
We can be busted for another dui
We can be the head of the corporation
We can even be Paul McCartney
Michael Jordan
Kennedy may be our name
But nothing is going to protect us
from the human condition
I've gambled and won
I've gambled and lost
Millionaire wives die of cancer
Joanie's Johnnie gets SARS
Steve Jobs takes the last dive.
A truck driver falls asleep
A thirty seconds delay winds up catastrophe
So sorry!
Nothing protects us from the human condition
There are mine fields all around us,
most we don't even see
We can be in Mosul
We can be in Aleppo
We can be in Somalia
We can be in Mozambique
One ember, a conflagration
One breath of air, a hurricane
One drop of rain, water everywhere
Twisted Bill Cosby
his son
murdered while changing a tire
Your name can be Whitney Houston
mother and daughter
have died
Ronald Reagan's dementia
he didn't remember a thing
The list of the names
it never really ends
all that fame power and fortune
All of the pain loss and suffering
of me and you
Bad moods ain't seen nothing yet
There is no protection from the human condition
You can set me up another one
I'm drinking to
"how it goes "
I hide out
I come out
I'm probably like you
I don't know what I'm supposed to do
except
find slices of delight when able
There is no protection from the human condition.
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 10:19 PM UTC
There he waits,
the Nice Guy,
looking academic
and out of reach
in his tweed.
There's something
feminine in the way
he crosses his legs,
draping right over left in the fainting chair.
There you are, across from
him, at this party your
roommate dragged you to.
And you ask how he is.
He ushers you to his chair.
Sit down, sit down. I insist.
You know, he says. Most people
would tell you they're good or just fine.
The Nice Guy reassures you he is
not most people. He's a Nice Guy;
he's down with feminism, waves
One through Three.
He has a dog named Atticus.
They frequent open-air bars
in the summer.
He's a Nice Guy, an old soul,
someone who should have been
a young man in the 60s.
God, he has so many female friends
he tells you, leaning on the banister,
sipping on Glenfiddich.
You wonder how he is. This was your question.
He has so many female friends. Notice
how I'm stressing the word friends, he says.
I do, you say.
He's a Nice Guy and all these female friends
they're all the same. They love the bad boys,
the rich snobs, the ******* jocks.
I don't, you say.
Oh, sure you do, he Nice Guy-splains to you.
And there's a golden light coming from the chandelier
behind him, and he looks so holy and pure as he tells
you how one day Tara, Sam, Whitney, and Amber
will wake the **** up and realize just what they're missing.
But by then, this Nice Guy will have rambled on. He'll become
someone's second husband. A Good Woman will see how precious, how rare this Nice Guy truly is.
Okay, you say.
Prove me wrong, the Nice Guy says. He leans in closer.
You can smell the scotch. Prove me wrong.
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 1:21 PM UTC
Mysterious Angel
©10 June 2015 Roger Turner & Whitney Rix Victory II
I'm in love with her, but I can't even say her name,
I'm in love with her, but I don't even know her game.
So in love and I always feel, I feel just the same,
I'm in love with her, but I can't even say her name.
Mysterious Angel, my mysterious angel,
So are you the angel, who's come down here to save me?
Mysterious Angel, my mysterious angel,
So are you the angel, the one who's gonna save me?
No, I can't tell her because she might let it all end,
Oh no now, I can't tell her, she might want to be friends,
Part of me's broken, she's the only one who can mend,
No, no, I just can't tell her, can't tell her in case it might end.
Mysterious Angel, my mysterious angel,
So are you the angel, who's come down here to save me?
Mysterious Angel, my mysterious angel,
So are you the angel, the one who's gonna save me?
I can't even tell you just how I fell so in love,
And I think she's an angel from the stars up above,
I don't know how, I don't know how, I fell so in love,
To me she is an angel, she's an angel of love.
I can't tell her, can't tell her, no, in case it might end,
I can't tell her, can't tell her, she might want to be friends,
Part of me's broken, she's the only one who can mend,
No, no, I just can't tell her, can't tell her in case it might end.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
there was a sky show over Sydney this morning and if you are wondering
who was involved, well it was a huge party on jupiter and saturn and i was
the host i sang
hot hot hot and spicy baby
hot hot hot and really spicy baby
yeah nobody does chicken like KFC
and if you are wondering where i am, just go to Sydney and look to the sky
and look up all so high, yeah mate yeah it is so fun
yeah kick the rich snobs up the ***
you see i put this concert on to bring a bit of excitement to this city but you only saw
the lights, i can guarantee that what i say here is what the dead had a finger on
you see here is Slim Dusty with his song
it’s lonesome away from the kindred and all
on a cold sydney morning a view worth seeing
you see the people are fools right on our mother earth
because only the cosmic and the dead knows what went on
you see the barman is waiting for his stock to arrive
and it is mighty hard to get there by get in your car and drive
i told the barman give us methane oh yeah
so we dan enjoy the break in a party with methane
you see the green was the methane spilling all over sydney
but none of it was spilt, here is Robert Palmer with Addicted to love
the lights are on and Sydneym is home and the people are watching
a great light show with loads of great colours that you have ever seen
you see you can’t be seen you can’t be viewed y
you like to think that you are in a wonderful party
with me and slim dusty and many many more and the great smoky dawson
you see you will like to think that you are enjoying yourself and you are
in the way, of being addicted to love
you might as well face it your addicted to love
might as well face if your addicted to love
you might as well face it your addicted to love
oh yeah, the party is on and now here is our song duncan by slim
i would love to have a beer with duncan and he’ll have a beer with me
you see we’ll be good mates forever and we light up a party in the sky of sydney
we drink all over the country, getting ****** as we might do
i would love to have a beer with duncan cause he is our mate
i would love have a beer with baz boy, yeah i would love to have a beer with him
yeah we will drink all over this god forsaken land and in the cosmos, oh yeah mate yeah
drinking is fun with baz boy, yeah drinking is fun oh yeah
yeah i would love to have a beer with bas boy, cause he is our friend
and now here is briano alliano with fly burgers
fly burgers are good enough to eat
fly burgers are such a tasty treat
just catch a blowie between two buttered buns
add some lettuce and tomato and have so much fun
in sydney there is a light show from outer space
it’s really the dead people having the biggest party oh yeseree
a fly will come into dads methane, and totally splash all over him
fly burgers are good enough to eat
fly burgers are such a tasty treat
just catch a blowie before he ruins the party
add some lettuce and tomato
and have so much fun
and now here is whitney houston, ready to party, hardy
oh i wanna dance with somebody
i want to feel the groove with somebody
oh yeah, i wanna dance with somebody, with somebody who loves me
one dance and a spirt of methane to tip all over me
you see the light show looks like it’s so fun, come and cheer on me
and welcome all the dead, you see this is a sign, that just because your dead doesn’t mean
your gone from us oh yeah
i wanna dance with somebody, i wanna feel the heat with somebody
i wanna dance with somebody, with somebody who loves me
and what a party this has turned out to be
right over the sydney sky
sydney sydney sydney oi oi oi
and now that is it, what a fantastic show, we might come back with more party moves on that position over sydney
sydney sydney sydney oi oi oi, and let’s party cosmos
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 4:55 AM UTC
Somewhere near the turn of the century, the walk was hot enough to burn your feet.
Sometime after that I was born in Phoenix.
My sister and I threw paint over a cardboard box in the garage and called it a spaceship.
My grandfather was too tall to be an astronaut, but now plastic tubes in his lungs keep him tied to earth while he waits for sixty years of smoke to catch up to him.
When we were younger, he drove us to the beach on the Chesapeake where we’d look for shark teeth.
Before that, A German Shepherd ripped a hole in my cheek.
Sometimes I feel the rough little scar inside my mouth.
But more often I see round little scar on my hand
When I was nine, my father taught me how to climb rocks.
The trick is you don’t worry about the flesh left on the granite.
Then a lake broke my mother’s back after she jumped in from the same height as I did.
We decide to hike from Yosemite to Mt. Whitney, and I walk most of the trail ahead, by myself.
But at night we all play harmonica and yell because we are the only ears around.
On the stage, we yell because our ears are tired of being lonely.
Then we’d stumble drunk and put out cigarettes on each other’s hands.
And later I would pull my brother out of pool of his own *****
And later I would pull my brother out of pool of his own blood.
And later I would let a lover sink into her own mind.
Now my sister sees me through a screen, a brother is all foggy in Seattle, and my mother and father miss the way I’d play music all the time.
The trick is you don’t worry about the flesh you left behind.
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 6:36 AM UTC
Audrey, look out the window and see your dreams.
Brydie, lay on the carpet and think of home.
Charlie, stand in the garden and let the rain wash the pain away.
Danielle, shout at the skies for this awful weather.
Ellen, smile as you see a rainbow in the distance.
Fiona, stick out your tongue to soften their fall.
Gemma, pretend there's nothing falling from the sky.
Hannah, dance in the rain in that favourite dress of yours.
Imogen, jump into puddles, one after the other.
Jade, wave to the people going past in their cars.
Keri, open your hands to cup the cold water.
Laura, laugh as the neighbour's umbrella turns inside out.
Molly, hope the grass is better for football tomorrow.
Natasha, sigh as you drive through it all.
Olivia, read a book by the nice warm fire.
Paige, sleep through the hammering of the droplets.
Queenie, scream as you dash through the storm.
Rhianne, fall back onto that squishy armchair inside.
Steph, pray for the sun to come out soon.
Tuula, watch the leaves huddle against the kerb.
Una, listen as they patter patter on the rooftop.
Victoria, take off those sodden shoes.
Whitney, snap another photograph or two.
Xandra, run to get back home to your family.
Yasmeen, follow the trail of the water on the window.
Zara, give up waiting for the rain to stop.
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 7:01 AM UTC
The world is so small babe,
I’m running through my life
All this cardio killing my vibe
I was high but now I’m low,
You’ve gone too far away from me,
All this distance, these miles I can’t take it no more,
Let’s go on a trip, I’ll buy you a flight to Tokyo, we’ll hit the dojo, I’ll show you my mojo,
We’ll walk around Yoyogi, I’ll show you all the arigato I learned just to impress you fondly,
I’ll rent the most expensive hotel room to make some love,
We’ll use it,
Trash
And break it,
I don’t care about money, besides, having you is priceless.
I’ll love you to Mars and Jupiter,
I’ll name some planets maybe make some up to pretend I’m a genius,
I’m definitely not the greatest,
But fake it til you make it, apply that to us, pretend you love me and I’ll kiss you softly.
My life has been broken, ripped and thrown, away in the trash but you pieced it with some voodoo,
Now let me pay back the favor back and say I love you,
Forever and ever I’ll text you at night,
I might miss a day but maybe I’m lost within my words all because you left me speechless,
Your body sculpted by Michelangelo,
Your smile painted by Picasso,
But don’t be mistaken you can do much better I’m just fighting to convince you I’m the one.
But even after all this time,
I regret not holding you, not kissing you not loving you,
I had you within my reach
Now I’m left apart from love and hope
But every text is like a take back, I scroll through our pictures and wonder, why we didn’t take more,
Maybe skinny dipping or giggling,
Don’t care never did, just need you back,
I’ll fly you back to, where paradise is set,
We’ll stop by LA, I’ll meet your friends I’ll buy some clothes to reach your level, maybe will even break a sweat ‘cause after all you are my: deepest love my queen so beautiful.
I’ll fly you to Texas, I’ll meet your family, introduce me as the super tall, ****** don’t care what you say ‘cause just driving you around is my pleasure and dreams I had of.
Don’t be mistaken, I loved swimming, within our convos, but maybe now we can settle down and agree that down down very deep down, I love you and maybe you love me,
Or maybe not I’m prolly just tripping, not in space but within your beauty, I want you, be mine,
Forever high,
On the clouds I’ll lie, I’ll lie lie lie, and I’ll say whatever childish line, comes out of my mouth, don’t be surprised if, I just freeze and stare, because every glance you ever gave, just now assure me you could be mine, but baby I’m sorry poor choice on my part,
Just let me make it up to you, I’ll take you to Lake Whitney, we’ll chill and read,
“I got this poetry book here,”
And I’ll pretend to know every line,
Understand every word,
Whatever it takes for you to be mine.
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 7:20 AM UTC
two MTA
workers play invisible baseball across platforms at Union Square
the runs in my tights mimic the skyscrapers
whose marks I see across the black sky from the rear
window while he ***** me in the backseat of his Audi
an alley in Brooklyn,
the threat of a subway slasher,
the likelihood of getting lost,
but the questioning by tourists for direction
if I say “I am one of you”, it
discredits my memories here:
[pumpkins on 34th in July
kisses in bathtubs in Meatpacking
top of the Whitney]
but I am not (yet) one of you:
impatient drivers,
L train riders,
rainbow bagel obsessers
I still feel a hand grip my throat when walking down 5th
and throw my bones off the Chelsea Pier
before I spend 11 hours wondering why I haven’t yet committed myself to you.
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 9:02 PM UTC
We Were Over When we Started
©21 June 2015 Roger Turner & whitney Rix Victory II
You know, I should have seen it from the start,
Because we were over when we started,
Oh baby, That was plain for all to see,
And the only one who didn't see it,
From what I now know, was the lovestruck me.
I don't know why I could never see it.
Guess it was the fear of my breaking heart.
You know we were over when we started.
And baby, the signs were there to show me,
To say that we would never ever last.
Oh baby, why was I too blind to see,
While, you only talked about your past,
I always talked about our future,
Joke's on me, we'll never have that future.
You know we were over when we started,
And now I am more than broken hearted.
Oh baby, that forest I couldn't see.
The trees were just too thick I couldn't see.
Hidden in the woods, thorns my heart to *****
What I'd one day find would make me sick,
The breakup I was never ready for,
I wasn't ready to fall anymore.
You know we were over when we started,
And now I am more than broken hearted.
Everyone around me told me to leave,
I should be aware for I would soon grieve,
The love that I held locked in my heart,
In yours, it just wasn't there from the start.
Any compromise was missing you see,
There was no chance love was our destiny.
You know we were over when we started,
And now I am more than broken hearted.
It was always your way or not at all,
As your harsh, heated words I now recall,
So now, I've learned to look around me,
And learned not to fall so hard and fast
I've learned to take my time and maybe,
The next time I'll find something that will last.
You know we were over when we started,
And now I am more than broken hearted.
I guess that we were no good together,
And through my tears, I seem to know that now,
You taught me what to look for I gather,
So, you could stand up, take a final bow.
And nevermind I'm drowning in my tears,
Only memories remain from our years.
You know we were over when we started,
And now I am more than broken hearted.
You know we were over when we started,
And now I am more than broken hearted.
I'm a better person now forever,
Even though you broke, tore apart my heart,
I'll admit we were no good together
Blind me, I should have seen it from the start.
You know we were over when we started,
And now I am more than broken hearted.
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
The first was taken before we ever met.
My sister: curled beneath insulated blankets,
a pink bow vaseline-glued to her bald head,
glassy infant eyes turned in the direction
of a picture of me (red striped shirt, my favorite overalls,
velcro shoes). Mom taped it against the outside
of her incubator; so she would know her big brother
even if I wasn’t allowed to visit her yet.
The second shows the two of us at the back door
of our house on Circle Slope Drive. Her palms and nose
pressed firm against the glass as she peers out at Whitney,
the cocker spaniel who became an outside dog
after knocking her over one too many times. My hands are tucked
under her armpits, and I’m using every ounce of my
three-and-a-half-year-old strength to make sure
she don’t teeter back onto her diaper-cushioned ****
The third, a candid from the family trip to Islamorada.
She and I are walking down the pier, on opposing sides
of Ganga, each holding one of her soft grandma hands.
She was our buffer for those eight days,
and years following the trip. We face the sunrise–
electric pink sky dotted with periwinkle wisps.
Later that day, my sister asked me to come look for seashells
with her; I told her I wished I had a little brother instead.
The final, from my college graduation last May.
My sister and I are laughing in the arboretum.
As excited as I was to never again sit in Hamilton 100
or bubble in a Scantron, I was already missing
eating pho and reading poems, making her matzo ball soup
when her throat hurt, and trekking to the taco truck at 1 am.
Neither of us knew then that I would have this job and this desk
with these four photos, and room for more.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 3:35 PM UTC
My love is your love
is my love is your love
cheers to
whitney man
i wish i had
a kidney just as big
to share so that no one
would hav to die from
kidney shortage.
this is a poem i write
so that i do not have to write
anything else like
hell ya - i would ring the bells of my
freakin academic career end
pass this as word of mouth, please
and don t pass it through the greedy
hands of scholars.
Or i shall holler back in loudest tongue:
copy and paste is not the worst of all
it is this static state that they have flung
around kids' necks
-
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 9:09 AM UTC
If the streets could talk they’d tell me to come back to them, that I need them, I’m truthfully not “better off without” them.
If I could respond to the streets I’d say I don’t need you. This is my battle and I’m at rock bottom. I can only go up, and as I go up… I will no longer see you because I’m twelve hundred percent sure that I am better off without you. I don’t need to be high to fulfill the darkest parts of my soul. I don’t need to be high to be happy, content, or musically talented. It isn’t aesthetic. It’s not aesthetic. It. Is. Not. Aesthetic.
If the streets could talk they’d say **** you for becoming sober. That’s the worst choice you could’ve made in years. That decision is worse than trying to **** yourself. See the streets would rather see you dead from addiction, as opposed to becoming sober.
Well, **** you for making me want to become sober. **** you for making me want to die. And honestly, ***** you for everything you’ve torn from me. From sending me to jail as a tiny seventeen-year-old to making me off myself a good 4 times just ‘cause I couldn’t find drugs.
The streets would even go as far as to say: “rip everyone off, do bunches of drugs, leave everyone dry around you, and call it a day. Then sleep the high off, and next time you have an appointment, come to it high. #YOLO”
Y’anno what? YOLO is one ******** phrase. I live once, you’re right, Mr.Streets. But I want to be sober the majority of this living. I’m 18 and a half and have so much further to go in life. I want to become an addictions art therapist and I want to be at Zoe and Eden’s weddings. I want so much in life. None of which concerns the streets.
“Don’t listen to that cliche music, says the streets. Y’anno? That Macklemore **** that’s all about becoming clean? Eminem? Nah. None of that. You listen to music that glorifies drugs.” says the streets.
Also, if it takes listening to “Starting Over” by Macklemore 20 times a day and Dave’s Song by Whitney another 30 times a day, I’ll do it. Because at least I’ll be sober. Singing is something that brings me utter joy. As is writing and painting. And in order to do my best. I need to be pretty **** sober.
“No cigarettes do not count as addiction. Want to know what does? Buying pills with your disability checks. Now that ***** ******* great. **** you for trying to get clean.” the streets say.
Bro. I’m bro-ing to you because we’ve reached that point of nonsense. You don’t get it, do you? I need to not spend my minimal money on drugs. Yes, cigarettes are a drug. I’ll get there with quitting those too. Instead of drugging myself up, I need to dye my hair, watch slam poetry, and sing. Sing. sing. Sing. Sing until my heart is full and complete.
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 11:29 AM UTC
TEDDY PENDERGRAS joined HAROLD MELVIN AND THE BLUENOTES as a drummer and back up singer but his outing baritone as the lead singer as the lead on WAKE UP EVERYBODY and IF YOU DON"T KNOW ME BY NOW caused him to remain in that position before becoming a solo recording artist WHITNEY ELIZABETH HOUSTON started singing lead parts in church her mother CISSY HOUSTON was a back up singer with ELVIS PRESLEY WHITNEY as a solo performer would become known as the VOICE and would produce and star in a number of movies along with putting out chart topping hit after hit like THE GREATEST LOVE OF ALL and SAVING ALL MY LOVE FOR YOU TOM JONES a coal miner's son from wales had a very successful AMERICAN variety show with ******* being thrown on stage to wipe his brow as he sang WHAT"s NEW PUSSYCAT and IT"S NOT UNUSUALE ENGELBERT sang I HAD THE LADT WALTZ WITH YOU and one of my favorite singers out of BROOKLYN BARBARA STREISAND belted out of the park the lovely song EVERGREEN and DON"T RAIN ON MY PARADE well like DAFFY DUCK used to say back in the day THAT"S ALL FOLKS
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC