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Dorothy A Apr 2012
The first time that Evan laid eyes on her, he told himself that he was going to marry her. Embarrassed by his own fantasy, he quickly dismissed that thought as fast as it came to mind, telling himself what an idiot he was. Yet, from time to time, in spite of his reasoning, the thought would invade his skull.

What a dumb idea anyhow! It was just lame, teenage fantasyland! Girls did that kind of junk all the time, saying they were going to be Mrs. So-and-so, and thank God nobody could read his mind to know what he was dreaming up! Like she would marry him! He felt like a dumb ****, great in athletics, but far out of her league. Not even having the courage yet to ask a girl out on a date, and now he was already thinking of marriage! Pathetic! Really! Only a freshman in high school, he felt he should know better, lacking the good common sense his dad always tried to drive into him and had himself.

Ginny Delgado belonged with the smart kids, the brains of the school, although she seemed to stick more by herself, away from any stereotypical clique. Evan had first seen her in his biology class, and he remembered when other students wanted to copy off of her test papers. She never allowed any of that to happen, though, even if it would gain her popularity, false popularity but attention just the same.

It was a surprise to him that Ginny seemed to have few friends. Mostly, girls who were nerdy and smart did not seem very attractive or put together. Ginny seemed to have it all. She was smart and pretty, but she never identified with any of the girls who thought they were hot—and all other girls were not—and so she stood apart as one who shrouded herself in guarded aloofness.

And now here he was at his 20th high school reunion, one he really did not want to attend, but talked himself into going anyway. Perhaps, he could shoot the breeze and run into a few old buddies, his basketball friends. He didn't think that much of Ginny since he graduated from Fillmore, much less anybody from all those years ago. There really wasn’t any reason to reminisce once high school was behind him. School was not misery for Evan Stewart, but it wasn’t a time where everything seemed magical and carefree, not like for some students who looked upon those days as some of the fondest memories of their lives.

It was the class of ’92, and a huge banner displayed across one of the walls read, “Welcome back, class of 1992! Fillmore High School rules!” There was a good turnout, and Evan recognized a lot of people, although there were fewer that he knew by name.  

Sitting under dimly light lights, around a bunch of round tables, Evan now sat with the other alumni, stuck in a crowded hall with music blaring away from the early nineties. He had his overpriced meal. He had his few beers.

But what now?

He was almost bored to death. He was beginning to watch the clock more and more, scanning the room to see if he could possibly find reason to stay longer.  But then something happened that he never expected to happen, never even would have imagined it.

And, suddenly, his heart started to pick up its pace.

Was that her?

Evan thought he had made out the vague shape of a possibly familiar figure, an amazing and sudden surprise. Was that Ginny Delgado?

He wondered if he was seeing things as he intently stared across the room at the shadowy prospective of Ginger Delgado. But with the low amount of lighting, it just might not be her but someone he never even met before. How awkward would what be?

If it was Ginny, she was sitting next to a guy who seemed obnoxious and full of himself. Even from afar, he appeared to be a guy who would be in everyone’s face, with wild hand gestures, talking away and giving nobody else a chance for a word in edgewise.  If that really was Ginny, was that her husband? What a trip that would be! All the sense he once attributed to her would have to have gone out the window, if that were the case.

Sitting at Evan’s table were several of the other guys that were also heavy into high school basketball. Most were married and came with their wives—nobody was alone as Evan was—and now they all tried to act like they were thrilled to be all gathered together to show off their accomplishments. They were all passing around stories of life after high school, after basketball—some with talk of their college days, their wives, their kids, their jobs and careers—plenty of drinks to go around, and some toasting to the good, old days and to even brighter futures ahead. Evan was never married and did not have any children, so he felt he had much less to say. Most of those guys were not even very interesting, even though they tried to make it out that they had achieved so much in their lives. They may have been out of shape and past their prime, but all of them tried to act like they were the same as they were twenty years ago. None of what they all said impressed Evan at all, even though he tried to be interested.

He kept looking at the woman across the room, and the more he looked at her, the more he was convinced he was spot on about her. She had to be Ginny! He should just get up now and have the guts to ask her! But what would she say? Yes, I am Ginny Delgado, and this pushy **** next to me is my husband?

Though he was twenty years older, Evan felt just as awkward and as scared as he did in his freshman Biology class. It was better to just let the issue be. He’d rather save face than look like a total fool.

Suddenly, the unexpected occurred, something that gave Evan’s heart even more of a stir than he initially had when he spied her presence. Was it possible? Ginny now looked like she was starring back at him, as if they had somehow miraculously locked eyes and she had an uncanny ability to notice him back, from that afar off, now being transfixed onto him!  

You’ve really lost it now. What do you think, that she really notices you and remembers you?

Ginny stopped paying attention to the obnoxious man beside her and kept looking in Evan’s direction. She even reached her hand up and gave a little wave out his way.

Timidly, Evan waved back.

Standing up, Ginny started to make her way across the room. The obnoxious guy next to her looked on after her, like he could not believe she had wanted to part company with him. Evan guessed she was not his wife—thank God for that!

No, there is just no way she is coming over to talk to you. Alright, maybe she is. Get a hold of yourself now! Stop acting like a teenager and act like you actually know something about women. Come on, Evan! Get it together! She is coming.

Evan was right. It was Ginny Delgado! But she stopped short of his table to sit a down at the table in front of him, next to another fellow classmate of theirs, a female student that he vaguely remembered, though he did not know her name.

It was almost a relief she did not come to sit with him! Yet the disappointment was equally there. Seeing her more up close, Evan knew for sure it was Ginny. She was still quite pretty, perhaps even more so now, her medium brown hair and her dark purple dress complimenting each other. Not wanting to stare, Evan couldn’t help but to shoot many glances her way, without trying to be too obvious.
          
She smiled a lot, glad to talk to another person that she knew, and probably glad to be away from the guy she was stuck with before. Her eyes sparkled, and Evan never remembered ever seeing her so unguarded. In biology class, she was quiet, like he tended to be. Now she seemed so different, seemingly freer to be herself. Evan rarely saw her smile in high school, but thought she was very serious and sophisticated.

Before long, the DJ was now playing Eric Clapton’s Tears in Heaven. Couples at all tables were making their way to the dance floor. Soon, Ginny was approached by some guy who asked her to join him for a dance. She shook her head, no. Nonchalantly, the man turned to the woman that Ginny knew and asked her. She gladly accepted, said something to Ginny as if to have her permission and understanding, and then took the man’s hand to go to the dance floor. Ginny remained at the table by herself, looking on at the dancers with seemingly little regret that she declined an offer.

This might be your only chance, idiot. Are you going to blow it and be a wuss? Go up to her and tell her that you remember her. Go on! It is your perfect chance. What do you have to lose? If she isn’t interested, just go then. You’ve spent enough time here anyway!

“Hi…Ginny Delgado isn’t it?”

Evan asked as he approached her from behind. He cleared his throat. His voice had sounded so gravelly, as if he hadn’t uttered a single word all night. And his heart was beating a mile a minute, and he swore it must have been pulsating through his shirt. He was glad he put his suit jacket back on, for he was probably sweating like crazy.  

Ginny looked up, seemed to look puzzled, but then smiled a little. “I remember you!” she said with growing enthusiasm on her face. “Oh, but I’m sorry. You are going to have to tell me your name again”.

“Evan Stewart”, he replied. “We were in biology class together Remember? We were sophomores.”

A succession of slow songs was now being played, and Ginny’s friend was enjoying the time with her new dance partner. She certainly was in no hurry to make her way back to the table to rejoin sitting and talking with Ginny.

“Oh, sure! I remember now!” Ginny exclaimed. “Evan Stewart. Of course! You were the tall, shy guy that everyone liked because you knew how to win one for us. You were big into baseball, weren’t you?”

“Well, basketball was my best sport. I liked baseball, too, and track”, he replied humbly. It was amazing! She actually remembered more him than he thought she would!  “

Can I sit down and join you?” he asked, his courage and confidence growing.

“Oh, do!” Ginny replied, eagerly.

He felt like he was in seventh heaven. How cool was this? Sitting with Ginny Delgado? It was a bonus to a fairly descent reunion.

“So what have you been up to for the last twenty years?” Evan asked. His face was flush with embarrassment, as if he was just a guy who happened to luck out, but had no real skill in socializing with a woman he once fantasized about.

Ginny laughed a little, putting her hand up to her mouth as if her response was inappropriate. She responded, “You want a few hours? Or should I just give you a one word response?”

Evan smiled, blushing, as he tried to appear smooth and confident. “A one word response?” he asked.

“Yes. I can say it in one word—roller coaster….oops, that is two words”.

They both just sat there as I Can’t Make You Love Me, by Bonnie Raitt, played on.  

“Yeah…I guess I could say that about my life”, Evan agreed. “Would you like me to get you something from the bar?” he offered. “A coke or a beer?”

Ginny stared out onto the floor, as if she never heard him. “Isn’t it amazing how everyone comes to see the same people they always used to hang out with and still intend to hang out with to this day?” she asked. “How boring and predictable!”

Evan looked at her, puzzled, “What do you mean?”

Ginny continued to look out onto the floor, the music now upbeat dance music, and said, “Well, I mean you see all the football heroes all hanging out with each other. The members of the debate team are all huddled together as if they are preparing for the next debate. The cheerleaders, the drama club, the science club geeks…nothing has changed has it?”  

Evan shrugged his shoulders. “I guess that is typical. But that isn’t me. Sure, I saw some of the guys I played ball with, basketball, but the truth is I am not really that interested in hanging out with them.”

Ginny turned to look at him, her hazel eyes intent and solemn. Evan added, “I don’t have any contact with any of them. Nothing against them. I just don’t”.

They looked at each other in the eyes for a while. The silence was awkward. It was as Evan’s watching and waiting for her reply was the cue for Ginny to open up, and open up she did.

“I went to UCLA on a scholarship. I became a history major, world history, American history, women’s history. I never intended to teach, not at first. But it just seemed a good fit for me, and I have had plenty of teaching jobs, junior high school, high school. I moved to Sacramento.  I was briefly married after I got my first real teaching job there.”

Ginny’s eyes glistened. There was a pain in them that seemed locked in deep, not really wanting to expose itself too much, but coming out nonetheless.

Evan listened on, eagerly, so she went on, her gaze towards the dance floor “It did not work out. He cheated. He did it more than once and with more than one woman.  And now that I look back, I can see how wrong it all was, especially after my miscarriage. At first, I was so crushed, and I wanted to try again, for another baby, to try to please him, Jim, my husband. Thank God, I didn’t go on and on with him. I am glad I came back here…..back to Springdale.”

She looked back at Evan. He quickly looked away from her glance, his eyes downcast to the table. She wasn’t kidding. Her life was a roller coaster. He did not know what to say, felt so inadequate.

He decided to just share, in return.

”I was engaged once. It was a long engagement. She was a friend of a friend. Lana was her name. She told me she wanted to be with me, but she just wasn’t ready to make the big leap just right away. Actually, I am kind of glad now that I look back. We both owned our own shops. She was a hair stylist and I owned my own car repair shop, but that was about all we really had in common. I mean not really, even though we both liked sports a lot. We never seemed to agree on anything.”

Like he did, Ginny just listened intently, not attempting to make any reply. Evan added, “She was willing to cut me down in a second. I see that now”.

“Well how do you like that?!”

Evan and Ginny looked up as the woman that Ginny came over to see arrived back from the dance floor. She was walking, hand in hand, with her new found dance partner, fanning herself with her hand and laughing.

“Ginny’s got some company, too!” she exclaimed, beaming at Evan.    

Ginny replied, “Rhonda Flemming, this is Evan Stewart. She used to be Rhonda Boehner back in Fillmore”

Ginny turned to Evan to introduce him to her old classmate. “Evan…Rhonda. Evan, I don’t know if you two ever met each other before when we all went to school”.

“I’m not sure I have, either”, he replied, extending his hand to shake Rhonda’s. Rhonda quickly grabbed hold of his and gave it an overly enthusiastic shake.

“Hi, Evan!” she exclaimed "This handsome man next to me  is Brian. I never knew Brian until he asked me to dance!” she said excitedly. “And I am newly divorced and so is he! How strange is that?”

Brian shook Evan’s hand and then Ginny’s. “How’s it going?” he asked, grinning with embarrassment at Rhonda’s forward frankness.

“Ginny is one of the smartest people”, Rhonda went on to Evan and Brian. “We were once partners in an English class. We had to write a paper about each other. That was so fun in an otherwise booooooring class. Remember, Ginny?”

Ginny rolled her eyes, and made a shooing gesture with her hand to convey that Rhonda did not know what she was talking about. “I’m not as smart as anyone ever thought I was. I just worked hard and did my best, but thanks anyway for the compliment” , she said, modestly.  

“Oh, you were, too, Ginny!” Rhonda disagreed. She had a gleeful glint in her eyes. “Always so serious, Ginny Delgado! “

Rhonda grabbed Brian’s hand. “Hey, Brian and I are going to go mingle and walk around and see what trouble we can get into. You two want to join us?  

Ginny and Evan looked at each other as if to say “No way!” Ginny responded, “I think we are just fine here, but thanks”

Rhonda winked at her and then tugged at Brian’s hand. The pair of them went off together, leaving Evan and Ginny to themselves.

Evan smirked at Ginny, and then they both started cracking up with muffled laughter. Evan paused and then burst out laughing again. “Where did you find her?” he asked. A tear actually began to run down his face from laughing so hard, and he quickly wiped it away.

Ginny stopped laughing, tried to compose herself, but busted out with even more laugh
WickedHope Dec 2014
WITH CONTRIBUTIONS FROM MULTIPLE POETS

You don't cut, your wrists are fine.
          If I was dumb enough to cut my wrists I'd have been caught by now.
You're not anorexic, I've seen you eat.
          How much, really?
You're not depressed, you smile all the time.
          Yeah, because acting and lying aren't things.
     ~
WickedHope

You can't have anxiety, you talk to so many people.
          Its funny how you see me talking, but don't see the panic attacks.
     ~
aesha nisar

You have a good life. There's no reason to be sad.
          You're part of the reason why I'm depressed.
     ~
Phoenix

You're not angry, you haven't raised your voice or yelled.
          Maybe the voices yelling in my head are so loud I can't do anything
          but focus on keeping them quiet.
You're not scarred from your past, you act normal.
          If normal is crying for hours at night till tears can't come anymore
          and apathy sets in, then yes I'm quite normal.
     ~
Stardust

You are so lucky, it's so easy for you to be good at what you do.
          You don't see the intensity of doubt and countless hours of anxiety to
          get things to the point they're not too embarrassing to show someone.
     ~
PrttyBrd

You're fine. You aren't depressed, just really sad.
          If I'm not depressed, just sad, then why am I here everyday?
          Why am I here crying to you when I should be out, living?
     ~
Tiffany Smith

God I swear every guy you meet online just wants to bone you.
          You say that like its a good thing. All I want is someone I can trust,
          someone I can rely on, not someone who wants to bone me.
You have boyfriends from everywhere, india, japan, china...
          I have none. These are only friends, the only one I want is you.
Your so strong.
          Yea, 'cause going home to cry in a corner, then stuffing my face with ice
          cream while watching sad anime is totally legit.
Are you okay?
          No I'm not ok. I just want to punch both your eyes out, then cuddle with
          you and make out with your face. Then maybe I'll just take a long break
          to bawl my eyes out and get rid of all evidence, all but the telltale clue of
          how swollen my eyes are
     ~
Creep that Loved You

Come on. You can go to school. You're not sick.
          Physically, no. Now mentally...
Why are you so good at everything?
          That's because you don't bother to look deeper.
You look fine.
          Oh yeah, the red eyes and dark circles just add to my beauty.
I love you.
          Yeah, it looked like it when you were 'out' with your 'friends.'
     ~
maha salman

You're so resilient. You've been through so much pain, yet here you are living strong.
          That's because every time someone says, are you OK? I just smile and
          say I'm fine. But none of them can hear the screaming in my brain saying
          I should just die.
You're so beautiful.
          No.... The smile is fake, powder covers the circles under my eyes,
          mascara makes my eyes look bright and lip stick covers the bite marks
          on my lips from where I chew through them when I'm anxious, or
          panicking, or being asked questions. You would be repulsed by the
          beast underneath.
You're such a talented poet.
          If writing down my deepest darkest dreams, nightmares, fantasies and
          memories, make me a good poet, then yes. But all I write is the thoughts
          that scream to come out or my head will explode.
     ~
The Girl Who Loved You

You have never felt real pain, you are a man not a wuss.
          The worst pain hits you in the heart not in the head... Whats a man
          without pride, whats a man without a name?
Get over her bro, shes just one girl.
          One girl that I chose to love out of the 7 billion other people in the
          world.
Open up your heart to new people new things.
          What's the point in meeting people, when in the end they all just leave?
You aren't alone.
          I'm not alone? You lie through your teeth, where where you when I sold
          my soul to the devil and condemned myself to the abyss?
We are proud of you always, son.
          Words I've never heard, just the echoes of my parents inside my head.
You live a great life.
          That's not the message the untouched prescribed sleeping pills and           ecstasy portray.
     ~
grld

You're so patient.
          On the outside yes, in the recesses of my mind I'm screaming my
          head off... waiting for something that will never happen.
     ~
Julian Pacheco

Who cares about the others? You're not like them you're different.
          What if I don't want to be different? What If I want to curl up into a
          ball and pretend I don't think I'm failing you every moment of the day.
Life's not fair.
          Well maybe it's time it should be. Maybe it's time for us to stop
          thinking that we deserve more because that's all we've ever known.
          Maybe it's our job to MAKE life fair.
Forget it, move on.
          I don't want to. Shouldn't everyone be able to hold onto the things they
          hold close? If they were holding it close it meant something and if it
          meant something good then it's worth fighting for.
Shut up.
          No. This time I won't be quiet because I sit here and I listen to what you
          say every day; you treat whoever you want however you want and that
          is not your right. Everyone has an opinion. I want to share mine.
     ~
Forgotten Dreams

You're so confident.
          Only because you do not see the pain and turmoil it causes me
          inside, and the sores inside my cheeks to keep from crying.
Why are you shaking? It's not even cold.
          Because I'm scared, scared of scenarios untrue.
~
Makayla

You're not sad, you look so happy.
          Tell that to the guys who keep pointing all my flaws, and laughing
          about it, leaving me speechless because I have nothing to say in return.
You're such a good writer.
          And look how handy that is, won't ever shut them up for good.
You still have so much to live for.
          To keep living like this, might be considered anything but living. You're
          all too perfect for this world, but you know what? My body can't keep
          living in a different place my soul is.
     ~
A Sad Sam

Chill out man, it's just a couple people.
          To me, three people is like three thousand people. Their voices circulate
          in my head and drive me crazy until I can't help but break down. You're
          right, I should definitely just chill out because I don't know anything
          about the disorder that brings a constant burden to my days.
Why are you so antisocial? Get off the computer and do something productive for once
          Try the fact that everybody that surrounds me makes me feel like the life
          I live isn't worth living and the comfort of understand people on the
          internet keeps me sane.
You're so lazy.
          Don't you dare start on that, because every ******* day I wake up and
          breathe despite my lungs collapsing in on themselves from all the
          pressure people give me, and every single day I do the work I'm told to
          do and I'm trying my hardest but I'm fighting a war with myself and it
          takes up every ounce of energy I have left. Don't you dare tell me that
          I'm lazy when every day I take all the strength I have to keep on living.
     ~
Emma Tauzell

They had never met, didn’t know each other’s name --
          Yet their eyes were already making love.
     ~
Deborah

You can't really love someone you've never met.
          He's the first thing on my mind when I open my eyes, the last
          thing I think about before I go to sleep, he's in my thoughts all
          the moments in between, his face takes away the nightmares and
          fills all my dreams. How is this not love?
     ~
Just Melz

Just forget about her and move on.
          How am I supposed to do that, when all I see is her and her
          precious qualities I so dearly love in every girl I talk to?
          Forgetting is a lot harder to do than finding.
     ~
Neb Dnarts
Feel free to add to this in the comments,
and I'll tac it on the end with credits to your screen name.
Hilda May 2013
Sixteen bewhiskered cats with tempers sweet
Only needing food and tranquil retreat.
They try to be good and do what is right
But get into mischief from morn till night.

So hard not to adore each furry face
Though pranks may lead to many a disgrace
Fiddling and tearing the household blinds
Until sighing we think we'll lose our minds.

Hearts so overflowing with deepest love,
Sent from God the Father of Lights above.
Sadly few folks to such a good home give.
How can each darling continue to live?

And even though they may growl and grumble,
When time to eat tiny motors rumble.
Furry paws swat many a ragged mouse.
Without them would be a desolate house!

Families adopt babies, fortunes pay,
Yet for these wuss pusses refuse to sway.
More forgiving than us despite sharp claws,
Surpassing mankind's sins and blatant flaws.

Sixteen bewhiskered cats with tempers sweet!
What have they done to deserve such defeat?









.
Dedicated to all furry felines everywhere with love and prayers! © Hilda May 7, 2013.
Lightbulb Martin Jul 2014
Ditch ewe sea Mai poem?
Eye sore year phlegm on yootoob!
Knot of ill my mean,
Ice awe yore fitty oh on yewtwoob!
No won you sis Phil mini moor...

Aisle Ike did the Bell eve id Dio.
**** wear wuss aye at?
Cuss ein owe fur sheer.
God Knowed out debt
Hugh phlegmed me giddy
Nth arc are!

Wail?
Watt Chew say a bow to that?
Weight.
Whole Don.
Dead Yew sin sir writ?
Sense err meow tough fit?
High share open aught!

Bay bee!
Hi muss tar!!!
Please forgive me these indulgences
KILLME Feb 2014
pretty and pink
she's a princess
as she struts up and down the rows

what she'll pick,
mommy doesn't know

will it be the new
holiday barbie doll

or the shiny Nerf gun
to shoot her brother, Paul.

no!

Its the wonderful stuffed
teddy-pus.

the mega tough protector
who isn't a wuss.

he keeps kids safe
chases the monsters away

with his snuggly tentacles and big fluffy ears
he provides brighter days

now whenever
she's feeling really sad,

Teddy-pus makes things
seem not so bad.
Inspired by my best friend who was trying to cheer me up c:
love that girl <3
tousled Jun 2013
You remind me of
Coldplay's song
Yellow
It brings me to a different atmosphere
I don't know why
I suddenly want to hug you
talk to you
or hang out with you
I know that I can't do all of that
Because I'm too much of a wuss to do that
And I'm just another girl
That you can't love
or like
But I keep on telling to myself
That the stars are shining for me
Bob B Jan 2019
(Can be sung to the melody of Frank Sinatra's "My Way")

For TWO years now I've been
The mighty leader of this nation,
But I can't stand it when
I don’t receive great adoration.

Believe me when I say
My way's the ALWAYS-best-to-lie way.
And you can do it too
By doing things my way.

Mueller is going strong.
I am sick of his **** query.
But they've all got it wrong.
They can't prove their stupid theory.

My fans KNOW my style is NOT
A JUST-lay-down-and-die way.
I have gotten by
By doing things my way.

My tryst with Stormy and my fling
With that McDougal woman bring
So much grief into my life,
Especially with my wife.
But, nonetheless, I will confess
I love things my way.

And now I want my wall;
If I don't get it some will suffer.
I will shut things down
Just to show I'm not a bluffer.

You can dupe the world
With simply the "M" "Y" way.
So I will not deny
I love things MY way.

I've had to fire more than a few
'Cause they say things that are untrue.
And my toadies on the Hill
All bow down; they know the drill.
They know the ways to get my praise:
Just do things my way.

Yes, do things my way.

-by Bob B (1-16-19)


2017 and 2018 VERSIONS:

DOING THINGS MY WAY (1):
(THE INAUGURATION SONG)

(Can be sung to the melody of Frank Sinatra's "My Way")

And so, I'm standing here
To say an oath and pledge allegiance.
Though some will cry and jeer
And accuse me of malfeasance,

The fact that I can stand
Before you now in a tough-guy way
Proves that you can play it through
By doing things my way.

Yes, I've stiffed a few,
But that's my disposition.
That's what you have to do
To carry forth your mission.

I knew what I was doing;
I was acting in a sly way.
Just do what I tell you
And do things my way.

You might not like the things I say
Or what I do, but that's okay.
Celebs like me all have it made.
Just don't drop the masquerade.
It's all the same; just play the game
And do things my way.

I've had three wives. So what!
I've had just two divorces.
The news? Don't watch that ****.
I have found better sources.

I didn't get this far
By choosing the just-get-by way.
Since life is dog eat dog
Just do things my way.

You'll always find someone to cheat.
Remember: don't admit defeat.
There's nothing wrong with being rude.
At times be crass; at times be lewd.
Make up the rules; treat them like fools
By doing things my way.

Yes, do things my way.

(1-19-17) By Bob B


DOING THINGS MY WAY (2)
(SEVENTEEN MONTHS AFTER THE INAUGURATION)

(Can be sung to the melody of Frank Sinatra's "My Way")

Despite all that you hear,
I'm doing great; I'm number one now.
My made-up "truths" endear
Me to my base; we're having fun now.

My ranting and my raving
Show that mine's not the small fry way.
You'll win…you'll win much more
By doing things my way.

I wish the FBI
Would stop investigating.
They know too much. That's why
It is all so aggravating.

I never liked a wuss
Who would take the humble pie way.
No, I am much more ruthless
Doing things my way.

I've told some lies, once in a while…
Well, every day, but that's my style.
My Congress *****, have got my back.
At the right time we'll attack.
I plot and scheme for my regime
By doing things my way.

Putin's my friend, oh,
And Kim Jong Un and I are buddies.
Merkel and Trudeau?
My goodness, they're such fuddy-duddies.

All I have to do
Is just display my evil eye way,
And I'll get what I want
'Cause it is my way.

I am the law; that's plain to see.
And very few are smart like me.
I will say what comes to mind,
And I don't care if it's unkind.
A little greed helps you succeed
When doing things my way.

Yes, do things my way.

-by Bob B (6-26-18)
jeffrey robin Dec 2014
( )
(   )
(      )
/----\



Pure

///

The darkness is everywhere

We all see

////

We see death everywhere



We remain so implausibly silent

///// wuss warriors /////
////
We don't want to offernd !
////

We don't want to hurt their feelings !



We betray ourselves when we water down

The absolute purity of what LOVE is

///

Wuss warriors !



We fight the paper tigers of

" insensitivity "

while drowning out the sounds

Of death !

////wuss warriors ! ////
/////

Wanting lovers

Without love
jeffrey robin Jan 2015
(                                                
               ­                            )
(                                  
                           ­   )
(                  
                 )
(
\/
/\
/     \

                     ^^^

ride !                                                    
••

The lonely Hippie boy !

All the girls are selling wuss - burgers on elm street
And becoming business men !

And those who were once his friends
Are going transgender and may never
Be seen again

Except maybe as something as unreal
As an icon of this **** eating Culture

of Ravenous Vultures

••
••

Ride boy ride !

Outta this dark scenery

Throw your wuss - burger away !

The ingredients ? ---- ugh !

You wouldn't believe

( mostly death and pain ---- death and pain)

••

Ride to the home of free men in sacred hills

To where true maidens flower

And children are nurtured by truth and wisdom and dignity

And real winds

And visions of infinity

••

Yes !

MY LOVE is the Love

That created this world !



MY LOVE was here before god was here

MY LOVE never changes

( or ...........BREAKS ! )

///

MY LOVE
is the reason that anyone should even want to live at all !

/////

So

Be cool ! Dude!

And ride !

Right thru unto and into the light
That is always burning

And is never consumed



In the hands of the ANGEL

BEFORE THE GATES OF EDEN

there forever

To

WELCOME YOU HOME
Kara Rose Trojan Apr 2011
My message seems too abrasive to send
Like handwritten ransom notes
With a geriatric hand,
Gnarled and pimpled with
                Weariness
                And experience.
Our war stories
Are cards thrown down at a poker table
So initially casual
Then troubling after the fact.

People spout perspectives;
Our inputs are faucets overflowing
With the chemicals that change the mix.
Each of us contribute to the compound of strife.
What I need – what I want
Is my own element,
                Thoughts pure of your life,
For you do not fully comprehend my experience.
My wuss-**** whines that resonate
As sure as a saxophone’s wail.

My jazz demeanor, burlesque figure
Only mask the pedigree of emotions

Beneath my wiggling hips, fluttering eyelashes.
Remember: this is a woman.
From smudges to sunlight to wind to aligned stars –
                The cracked liar’s smile never eludes me
                Just as the bite still scars my neck.

Marked, experienced, wrung out, aloof –
                Live for sin, looping exponentially.


The seagulls scavenging in
The grocery store parking lot,
We know them and hate them for it.
****, drink, yell, tip your way, son.
I’ll tap my cigarette, clamber into bed
[my motives are my motivation]
Deepstep, baby, deepstep:
                Come willing because I won’t.

I am the renegade impulsively flipping cards,
Smirking across the poker table
And yelling, “Checkmate”
For no good reason.
Scattered to the winds,
My nonsense is the very ground you have to tiptoe upon,
My sense is the word on the tip of your tongue that absconded.

I am not your maker for he’s my friend.
I am not your mother for she’s my servant.
I am not your lover for you’re my witness.

This [whatever it is] is a syllable caught skipping on the record,
                                                         ­                                  And we’ll never know the rest of the word
Teenage Writer Jul 2013
Frustrated because I can't tell if it's real
Mad because I don't know how you feel
Upset because we can't make it right
Sad because I need you day and night
Angry because you won't take my hand
Aggravated because you don't understand
Despondent because there’s no hope for us
Vulnerable because I feel like a complete and utter wuss
Lugubrious because I feel so very alone
Scared because there are no more stepping stones
Afraid because I’ve reached the end of my tether
Disappointed because we can't be together
JustChloe Nov 2014
"Truth or dare?" Emma said. She was drunk, so instead of the words coming out crisp, they all mended together created a word that sounded like, "Turthordar". Georgia could help but smile. "Truth." she had done way too many dares that night, she had to take of her shirt, try and chug a gallon of milk(and fail completely), and kiss a cat. "Wuss." Garry said. Georgia rolled her eyes and smiled, she loved her friends. "Do you believe in true love?" Emma questioned.
"No" Georgia replied as if she didn't need time to think."True love is love without a price, but all the love is this world always cost people something. Whether it is happiness, a home, or family love always steals something from you, and kills you from the inside when it leaves you."
"Wow," Gary said "You are such a buzz ****." Georgia chuckled as Garry took another swig out of Emma's bottle. Georgia heard the garage door open. "Shot my dad is home, you guys have to go, now the take the liquor with you,"
"What are we suppose to do? We can't drive."
She stared around the room for a second, and sighed.
"Ugh fine go upstairs to my room. Don't come down no matter what happens."
"What does that mean-"
"NOW"
Emma and Gary shuffle up the stairs as the garage door closes, and Georgia pulls out her braille bible. The door closes.
Geno Cattouse Nov 2013
I posed a querry to the stone on the summit and from it I got neither bile. Nor *****.crickets chirping loudly into the night. The silenced with fright at once. Time passed through the hourglass with silty silence.

So I posed a querry. Slathered in razzleberry jam to the powers that am.
And the dedafening roar of NEVERMORE did bowl me over. So I posed another.  Smotherd in clover and lo and behold the universe expanded in deafening silence.

Alas I am left with para of noia .
Furtive. Distrustfull. Disgusted evunnn. As said snagglepus.
A wuss in sheeps clothing. Serpentine riddle. No front nor back nor side nor middle. Left wanting of truth left here to self ******.
Awww fiddle.  Hey didle didle.

The cat and the fiddle.... licking his chops
Playing all sides agin the middle

Shmaaart
Jolene Perron Nov 2010
I wish you would turn around,
just look and you would see.
You played with my heart,
and left me all alone.

Well until you can tell me,
just what you're thinking.
Until you can stop saying ****,
and see what you're really doing.

Turn around, and treat her right,
no matter who she is.
She's a woman, you're a man,
and you need to learn, hunny.

You can take your friendship,
and shove it up your ***.
Until you can sit down,
and talk it out like a man.

If you have a problem,
it's really not all that hard.
Instead of being a wuss,
try telling her.

Women really aren't that difficult,
as long as you're honest.
So until you can be honest with me,
well, I'm sure you get the ******* idea.
Gaurav Luthra Jul 2015
“Keep that mask on, it will make you look stronger.” They said,
Constricting my empty veins,
Shielding my vulnerability,
Hiding my humanity,
Making my bones stronger but my soul much weaker.

All ‘real men’ must take on this mask,
Exposing fraction of yourself is your task,
‘Real men’ are…
Physical, Strong, Independent, Powerful,
Scary, Hard, Stud, Muscular and
List goes on.

I am scared and I need help,
Scared to rip this mask,
It is such a hard task when,
Wuss, Wimp,
*** and *****,
Are what defines the ‘True men’.

Sitting in this narrow box,
Suffocating from these shallow thoughts,
Attempting to jump out,
Thrown back by societies mouth.
sticky kisses for the missus just
to prove that i'm no wuss
and if it tastes good enough for you
it's good enough for me too.
don't you miss the blissful ignorance
chinese whispers and rumours
written on the tarmac in chalk
for the wind to pick up
and carry on to other schoolyards
eat lots of pineapple, it'll make you taste good.
did she eat ten a penny aniseed sweets for me?
she seeps liquid liquorice
that binds my teeth in a bittersweet grimace
stretching from ear to ear. she hates the taste
and i hate to share my just desserts.
innocence is a burden that burns
like empty lungs, and no breathing in
again until i get what i want,
bad enough to make the children
want to **** themselves. when they want
sticky kisses before bedtime.
James McSweats May 2017
The world has gone grey.
We all live in limbo.
But out of the darkness.
"Wuss poppin Jimbo."
jls Nov 2014
I can hold my breath for
1 minute and 15 seconds.
I still practice sometimes
in case you come to hold me again.
You held me a lot back then-
up against walls and doors and even as we lay in bed.
Your fingers left ever-present bruises on my neck.
You convinced yourself you left them with your mouth
but your hands were my enemy.
*****. Wuss.
They are still curses to me.
Pet-names
You called me when I clumsily ran into your fists.
Or maybe it was the other way around.
I can’t remember anymore.
Nor do I want to.
Akira Chinen May 2016
For a lot of people it is without a known source or trigger or point of orgin that depression will sit in.  They may be fine one moment and then the next a dark cloud suffocates their heart and  venomus thoughts stab into their minds.  And all they can do is shut down, close themselves off, climb in to a dark hole and then mentally and emotionally abuse themselves.  Afraid to say anything because we will call them crazy or too sensitive or worse completely ignore the problem and say something like "man up wuss"  or "you're such a pretty girl, smile don't be sad"... We send alcoholics and junkies to rehab with love and well wishes but treat depression like its nothing more than a bad day out of life, here's a lollipop stop your crying.  People are broken inside and lost and feel alone and very often it's because somewhere in their life they just cared and loved too much... And we repay their kindness and generosity with apathy and ignorance and half hearted sighs as we roll our eyes.  No one stopping to imagine the unimaginable burden and darkness that is going on inside their hearts and souls.  No one able to bare to try and feel for a moment how bad some one has to hurt where death is the better option than life... Let me repeat that... that death is the better option than life ...that the pain and hurt and thoughts have become so bad that they feel death is the better option.  And too many caught in that moment, feel they have no one to turn to, no one willing to accept and belive them that they are depressed and that they just need at least one person to be there with them, that no one is willing to belive they hurt that bad... and then.... BANG ... their gone.  And then for a split second we can all hear the silent monster and see the invisible disease, a second to late to help and a second many of us will wash clean from our eyes.  Because its just to horrific to remember and we're afraid if we open ourselves up to the reality of depression we ourselves will end up another one of its victims.  
Depression is real and it is real scary and those suffering need our acceptance and acknowledgement that they are suffering a horrific disease most of us couldn't cope with.  When we know someone who has it so bad they can't get out of their hole, we need to climb down that hole and sit down in the dark with them.  If they want silence we give them silence, if they want to talk we listen, if they want to cry we cry with them.  We let them know we belive them, give them our compassion and love and empathy.  Don't just be there for them, be there with them.  If we just give them a ladder out, they might come up but then when were not there with them, they might just fall back in.  You really have to let them know, I'm here with you, in or out of this hole, I'm with you, you're not alone.  It's ok to be depressed, its ok to be you.  Maybe you'll get better, maybe you won't, either way I'm here with you.
The Broken Poet Jun 2015
It's pouring
I'm drinking
I'm thinking of us
Maybe I shoudn't of been such a wuss
I should've told you how much you meant to me
But now it will never be
I'm listening to a sad blue song
I imagine your radiant smile which I long
You are so naturally beautiful
And who would've known that you were so truthful?
But when I saw you in the arms of him
I put my lips to the brim
And drink to what will never spark
I fade out into the dark
With my broken heart
Oh how I wish I would never have to part
But I can't stand to see the girl I love in another boy's embrace
I was only running when I already knew I would've lost the race
I am filled with regret
If only we would've never met
I would've never been listening to a sad blue song
Missing a girl dearly whom I long.
Butch Decatoria Dec 2016
He has no suspicious ideas

about these hidden thoughts of mine.

The "Got it Twisted" wickedness

Boy

Have I got ideas of what I could do to him,

The experience of my prowess

The sensual heights

I could bring him

Service him the vice of moist

Lips of this mouth

The levies I could break...

Even now (ONE Mississippi)

The Earnestness of the warmth in my groin

(TWO Mississippi)

trains of thought / tight caboose / and whistling steam

(Thrice Mississippi...)

My imbalance seems becoming obvious

So we hurriedly converse,

Our talk :

Brief with business lingo

(My eyes high on his physique)

In the interim

Exchange our dimes,

Buddha in my hand...

"Wuss up?"

'Sup bro... (a synchronized nod)

In the pause of dead air,

I mad dog him with my eyes

                          (Drunk off his musk).

He has no idea about these ideas

The silent stealth of the naked thoughts in my *******,

The twisted scene of my imagination's

Motion pictures...


******** him off to completion.
KellzKitty Jan 2015
I make mistakes yes I know
However I'm still young and not fully grown
I'm sorry I messed up
I'm sorry I fail
When you scream at me it makes me feel frail
I didn't mean to mess up
I'm sorry stop screaming!!!!
Stop threatening me because I'm not perfect
I'm human please just get over it
Alright cuss at my mom because that makes you look like such a man
You think you're so perfect? Well try it **** face step up to the plate
Take a stand without acting like a little *****
You think you can call me a worthless ******* and that I'll get over it?
You think it's okay to yell at my mom in front of me
You think I'm supposed to not make mistakes
***** PLEASE!
I'm a ******* human being
Get over it you wuss
After all you're nothing but a swearing angry ****!
guess who's laughing now
guess who won this game
guess who made it all the way
to the end of the maze
guess who said enough was enough
guess who put their foot down
guess who called you out
and put away all of the doubt
Ugo Victor May 2016
How did it feel to say I do?
The rush of blood to the head,
The whirlwind of emotions,
The walk down the aisle.

What was going on in your head
Even as you said your wows
And the I love yous
And the right backs
Where has all that feeling gone
Now, that you are fighting to be gone

Vows are what they shouldn't be
Words, with echoes after, without heart; ceremonial
For better for worse didn't you say?
So stop being a wuss and fix it eh?

Lose your doubts, not your partner
you
n i perceive reality in our own view
too
how the world a skew

and each rue
while mind each "p" n "q"
of societal mores mebbe at a pew
or in a car brand new

that purrs like a "meow"
or even on the loo
'bout a lover ye knew
thinking of gentile or jew

now tis that does hew
a friendship that mite grew
cuz quality gals so far n few
like finding a miniature red
   white striped emu
like eeyore - feel in ivy blue.
---------------------------------------

sorry for all dis bather
   me lass of an heart felt ace
& hope no words o mine base
so lemme cut to the Chevy driven chase

to relish c ying ur face
yi yi yippee - thy grace
****** desires to gather
   at what e'er pace

cuz dis haint no race
for us to trace
an arc &
   compete with lovers
   that for e'er frieze on grecian vase.
---------------------------------------

which day
whether sunny or gray
as high r low clouds lay
like pair a moors

   or nags in may
would be okay
to...play
oye vay
and enjoy
   hot ravenous ja way?
---------------------------------------

this chap aint no a rod
   knee nor danger
concocting a fiction
   be yin born in a manger
neither does he don
   role of ranger
thou veritable stranger

THOUGH A VERITABLE UNKNOWN GAL 2 ME
NONETHELESS, I MUST BE GOING STIR CRAZY FOR YOU! ™

---------------------------------------

hi yam hankering Asian urge gent wuss
celibate lee  married, a zealous adult tour us
desires to tuss
sill with a female,
   no not necessarily
   her coiled n kinked

   hair to muss
nor special outfit to fuss
i try not to ******* cuss
nor cause no trouble
   if aboard the digital bus.
---------------------------------------
PLEASE be patient with him. In due time, his ability to calm down and control the erectile fusillade will chime with YOUR ******.

HE well deserves to end this celibate state and get requisite COMEUPPANCE!
---------------------------------------
Hello Sin Come on In!

I thoroughly enjoy plying (like a baker kneading dough) these slender and smallish fingers at the juncture of neck and shoulders. As many cumulative kinks would be ironed out. Muscles and tendons on either side of the spine (from stem to stern) privy to tender loving care. Special emphasis would be given to any particularly sore area. Perhaps an especially noticeable ache exists along the upper or lower back? Just the appropriate amount of (gentle) pressure - from the heal of one hand or the other - called into action.

Might forearms or biceps be in sore need of massage? Gluteus Maximus saddle sore? How about thighs? Any other parts of your anatomy require skin nourishment? This willingness to manipulate knotty points of tension offered for passionate physical *******. Game? No need to think this hum bull guy wood MONOPOLIZE you NOR doth ye need to feel SORRY if nada one iota of interest exists!
---------------------------------------
unsure...
  
what this free thinker
   who lives ~10 miles north east
   of valley forge, penna ought to write
also not knowing
   if rambling comes a
   cross as trite

maybe filled with angry under
   panting tones awash
   with spittle and spite
veering considerably
   left of political right

which liberal democratic
   leanings correct quite
   an attempt to come across
   as mature and polite

hoping to induce interest
   to get together
   some day or night
discussing topics
   profound or light

or...letting sexually intimate
   fantasies (of mine)
   take supersonic flight
restoring darkened psyche
   with high octane
   self generated energy bright.

only one finger
used to hen peck
and types this
four tee billionth acre

doth, dis dude
real soon will take a break
eat sum petrified cake
like an ancient yodel,
ring ding or drake

interestingly enough
can cure any earache
with nary an edible flake
mebbe jump in a

poker face booked - mud flat lake
steal away imagining to make
out with you,
a moist meaty milky shake.

i yam ma nada trip pin
jist over dose sin
n wanna marry gin.

star-date = 9999 anno domino;
time = 1700: 39:_ pm

u r a be u tee
only in imaginary will i see
u re joy sing -
for me
as glee
from one male sassy thee
sets passions free.

like one pac man on a roll
   bell ringing canon,
   fast moving caboose
or mad as hell
   headless goose

this josh hing drake
   haint butta loose
goose
whereby moose

uh d utter creatures
   tink i lack mental juice
i.e. ja dat - right duh gray matter
   of dis knit wit,

   the "infamous" deduce
cob bulled with
   whirled wide web
   peppered with rotten cous cous
& find my rye ting
   an absolute nuisance
ready to call doktor Zeus.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2017
der völkisch rückkehr: and legal terms, in england it's illegal to run a brothel, but it is not illegal to be a *******; i honestly didn't mind that one of them stole my debit card once, or my saracens beanie i "bought" off a pair of drunk essex hunks at a liverpool st. pub for 2 pints of beer; when i went back to the house of cream pies and bourbon and dimmed lights asking for both, i did manage to persuade the **** to show me a stack of stolen debit cards, probably 6 inches thick; hey, you mingle with the underworld of crime, you have to mind your manners even more... which is why internet trolling is such an adrenaline thrill of unsuspecting idiots about to get a fair game.

i have a tier cake of options,
and yes, the first is a custard base of heidegger,
the folkish return -
and return to the country, away from
globalical-centric "comrades" of
classical music,
  much that can be said, must be unsaid,
in that folkish music desires an anti-pop
fervour...
i simply adore the germanic folk music,
i have enough fetishism in me to
revive the genre from the stampede of
beethoven or brahms from an elvis...
but that's just music, i haven't started...

do i feel pittance, do i feel a mea culpa
twice the crap, thrice the *******?
oh, right, it's called a pittance with a woman
who earns more ******* coins
in an hour than the supposedly "honesty"
worker on 0-hour contracts in supermarkets
these days?
is that modern day caliphate or modern
day slavery?
   *** slaves what?!
          you have a prosthetic leg for a *******
violoncello, hop to fiddler on the roof are
you?
                 i'm not a β-mensch,
               as i am not even a quarter of an
α-mensch...
     i am not either **** beta, nor a **** alpha...
       i'm an ω-mensch, an omega-male...
i don't know or will never know how to
compete...
    either i don't have the adrenaline streak
at competing, or i find that being β (2nd),
in that psychological alphabet st. is worse
than being being ω (nth) - last choice of man...
psychology was to rigid for me anyway,
β-males vs. α-males,
         no one managed to conjure up the un-
competing ω-males...
the monks, the philosopher types...
        it just became too much after a while,
esp. with articles such as

i slept with a *** worker 18 years ago and
the same of it still haunts me,
verbatim (from dave):
more than 18 years ago i did something
that remains one the biggest regrets
of my life. consequently, i am still struggling
to come to terms with the events that
unfolded one night in a city in the netherlands,
which i consider to be appalling, irresponsible
and immoral.
i was 21, single, exhausted and under the influence
of alcohol. at the suggestion of my "friends"
we ventured into a city centre red-light
district. a combination of my lack of will power
and peer pressure meant that i was
persuaded to tag along, i'm sure you can
imagine what happened next, and while i used
protection, it still seems stupidly reckless...
    the toxic shame and humiliation
are proving impossible to erase, particularly
since it is common knowledge among my peers...
    i feel isolated, lonely,
   scared of people's perception of me,
jealous of their happy family lives with children;
deep down i believe i'm not a bad person
and what happened does not reflect my
view of women...
                         *dave
: dave dave oh dave,
you wouldn't be such a poncey wuss with
a prosthetic leg...

a. you know she's the one that bring all
the condoms,
b. you know she always has the tenacity
to tell you she has regular *** checks?
c. ever seen the uniform of prostitutes
in a brothel? the bulgarians prefer stewardess
greys:

prostitutes > psychiatrists > priests.

after i lost my virginity to a french psychology
exchange student 3 years older than me,
university *** life was like an
elephants' graveyard,
   i probably experience oral *** once,
between the years 18 through to 20,
before losing my "virginity" a second time
to a ukranian ******* with a golden tooth...
you can't imagine how intimidating that
row of naked legs were in the dimmed lighting,
we drank *****, ******, i never forced her
into oral ***, she ****** me off,
and then we just lay there, and she
uttered the words: you're a good man.

then there was the puerto rican chubby
in amsterdam who laughed when i wondered if
oral *** was o.k. with her,
refusing she asked me:
    is it o.k. if i **** into this bowl in front of you?
no problem.

then the bulgarian girls in goodmayes,
the ones i used to oral kiss,
and then break the greatest taboo of kissing
them on the lips,
the one with an ****** saying it's only
the 2nd time it ever happened,
the one i ****** then jumped into a shower
and trickled cold water all over myself
to cool off while she masturbated in bed,
then the one i kissed and she giggled like
a schoolgirl being kissed for the first time,
then the veteran that has a pair of lips
that could have just as well been used
to circumcise a lot of boys;

and then this strange incident at a party,
a girl sat at the base of my feet,
and forced me to stroke her head like
petting a cat,
   until hours later, alone,
   she encouraged, but at the same time
lay stiff like i was to turn into
a necrophiliac, to which i replied:
   my hand went far down south already,
if you don't respond, i'm not doing anything
more.

then this other one,
  the gem...
   she only started perfecting giving perfect
head, at the same time we broke up.

i do remember my first kiss, aged 5 / 6 / 7,
her surname was kot, and she had two
younger twin sisters,
her father worked as a trucker,
   and i thought i we could settle for an anchor
rather than a pair of golden rings.

so i double up...
you know that the founder of the nation of islam
was a concubine of abraham?
      men didn't invent the niqab et al. etc.,
that attire for women was invented by keturah -
or hagar - i don't remember which
ran between two mountain tops looking for
water... until satan came around and said:
*****! stop running!
   the islamic matriarchy is founded upon
a concubine, the mother of islam is a *******!
so why do you think all this
talk of "modesty"?

and who is among you with a clean slate?
  i ask, one more time -
           who feels morally superior to *******
than seeking the health benefits from
a *******?
   what has talk actually ever solved, in totality?
i am neither the erstemensch (α)
             nor the zweitemensch (β),
but esp. not the übermensch...
   i am the letztemensch (ω);
and thus saying: remember a man has two points
of entry, a woman has three,
you really think it doesn't take a man
to live with the conundrum of 72 prostitutes
rather than virgins,
while a woman's heaven suffices with
3 men?

    i find no desire to ******* the alphabetical
psychologism of the darwinistic plateau
in a "competition" staged between the alpha / beta...
i'm happy being the omega,
  as the absolute antithesis of the alpha male,
since the beta male is not an antithesis of the alpha
male: the only antithesis of the alpha male thesis
is the omega male...
  so far removed from the **** & adrenaline
& ******, as to call himself, something
akin to newton, or leibniz;

and as all omega men: there's the inclination
to either homosexuality, or prostitution,
that myth of chasing women is about as **** and
thrilling, as a benny hill sketch,
byproduct of α / β antagonism without
recognising the **** omega?
     paedophilia or lecherous perversity...
how can you call it a perversity,
breaking a *******'s sacred command of
never kissing a client on the mouth
but subsequently breaking it,
       and giggling like a timid schoolgirl?
Just Esther May 2017
I'm afraid to speak.
Opinion or objection,
They will never be taken into consideration.
So I sit or stand and listen and watch in
silence.

You have made me this way.
I blame myself.
It hangs on my shoulders,
pulling me down.

Sorry for being scared,
'a wuss' or 'a baby'.
But you made me this way.
My confidence has gone

It's been crushed
Stubbed out like a dwindling fire.
No life inside.
I'm sorry. I'll try, I'll be brave.

The voice starts to come
But
so does the panic.
The temperature rises and the pounding begins.
Banging at my chest.
My knees go weak and my hands start to shake,
But I tell myself
'I'll be okay.'
Paris Nov 2017
I...I want to sleep yet thoughts run through my brain...
I can't...
They prohibit me from gaining rest..
Loosing those I care about
The hatred of myself
The hatred of this miserable life
Thoughts of just emptiness
Thoughts of fear
Thoughts of anxiety
Thoughts of wanting to run
Wanting to just scream and cry until my vocal cords are shredded and torn and worn
Wanting to just lock myself in my room and never come out
The urge to just shut everyone and everything out and just wallow in my sadness and despair
I can't do half the **** I do normally right
Not even ******* walking
I can't speak right
I can't act right
I can't ******* write right
I can't walk right
I can't do a lot of things
I'm to much of a wuss to get anything done
I can't do a ******* thing to save my life
Vivid mental images from suicidal fantasies roam my mind
its all coming back to me
Even with those who bring me joy and happiness it never lasts
nothing ever will
I understand this and I have for a long time
Bottled up emotions and thoughts have been ready to burst for years
Leaking out only to be filled and shut back in by my fear of collapsing and breaking
i can't do what I want to anymore
i am forced to put up this happy facade and I'm sick of it
Yet I must
I have someone who cares about me and that I know won't try to hurt me
I have some who have tried to take their own life that I almost can't live without
I have to keep my fantasies in my mind and never enact them
I must keep to myself
Keeping the bottle sealed until it shatters under its self brought stress and fear
that fear
that stress
that anxiety
all of it
keeps me from sleep
My boyfriend wrote this when I was forcing him to try and write poetry
Daddy D Jan 2018
Hey there ladies, daddy is back
Here to get up in your cracks
In your nasty ***
Or your creamy ****
Daddy’s sure to please your wuss
So please come fast, come a running
Daddy’s ready for the final *******
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
oh i can turn into a mean *******, just give me an adrenaline shot of bile to get me the berserker's worth of intro... the notion of troll is old... you're having to ask an orc, how quickly the mirror visage can change, how ugly, how narcissus can suddenly realise he's no more than: a dorian gray.*

just wondering, i hear it from time to time:
once upon a time on the internet,
or? once upon a time in "real" life...
who are these people?!

real life and internet life?

when was the last time you shopped on
a conventional 20th century high street?!
me? i'm guessing the year,
i don't even remember what year it was...

so... what's the difference between
living via the internet, and living without
it?
   is it really a matrix day-dream?
you seriously fold your napkins,
and envision a candlelight affair beyond
staging a supper, ms. bucket...
no, the vicar already stressed:
it's not bouquet!

               you either sink, or swim...
darwinism can be so regressive at times,
esp. when it come to translating it into
humanism...
  and how horrid it becomes,
and how cruel and how:
parasites feed off the down syndrome
         easy prey...
         seems darwinism hasn't calculated
something into its cold rationalism,
the reality of the human endeavour...
the argument is perfect, i have to admit,
but put into practice? it's hardly there!

   unless you live in iceland,
and have this ingenious app.
that allows you to match up with a future
mate, and distinguish whether there's
a clear genetic correlation that makes
you cousins, twice removed,
  and awaiting the orangutan (down
syndrome similis) -
        what? i thought we were being frank
about these matters...

real life & "the internet": i really hate these
people:
the internet is already life -
once upon a time there was a high-street...
there was once upon a time a travel
agency...
   personally i find no desire to spend
my saturdays on a high street,
thank you internet!
  you have managed to create a hybrid
of agoraphobia mingled with
   claustrophobia...
    tell it to the freaks, they're like:
how the **** can you even become
agoraphobic with the size of the universe
being unsizeable?

i really don't understand people who treat
the internet and "real" life
as worthy of a dichotomy...
   it's utterly bewildering...
   these people are probably the same people
that tune into "reality" t.v.,
   procrastination junkies...
     i don't know why, but at the same time
i know why i hate these types of people...
most of their shopping is done online,
and yet they have the audacity to claim:
whatever happens online does not translate
into "real" life... tell that to the girls
who committed suicide,
  because of the ****-in-wuss antics
of trolls... teen girls who encountered
trolls, but never met an orc...
         actually?! these sort of people
who can't integrate internet economics and
misunderstand social media as
communism 2.0, aren't these the perfect
examples of the exposed anonymity of trolls?

— The End —