| Not Often Enough…
…Are the times I write for myself.
Stop reading right now,
Or don't, but this poem is for me.
Sick of the "woe is me" poem.
Care for some poetry to go with your angst?
Still not the worst though,
Blah Blah Blah <-- Super Wonderful Magnificent Touching Moving
Spiritual DEEP poem
English teachers love me
Ha! i love myself more
i wish i could teach the world to be like me
Mr. Brinton gave me an "A-" <crying>
Quick, someone tell me how wonderful i am.
I wonder why I love
to walk through the fog of my own breath on cold days
Or stare at Britney Spears plastered on my wall
And wish,
I was home with Kristin on top of me.
And obsess over some cartoon
In Japanese like I'm six years old.
Writing an angry poem
Despite not being angry. (See also: furious, fuming, irate, ireful,
indignant, enraged, resentful)
Could have used it, but I didn't…
Draft two:
This poem has been edited from its original version.
It has been formatted to eliminate all the bullshit.
I wonder why I love
To walk through the fog of my own breath on cold days,
And wish I was home with Kristin beside me.
Glimmer
If she had worn a pastel blue skin that night,
Her lips….……
Royal Blue?
My mouth would have been stained
By her blueberry flesh.
Even in a whisper
I'd be screaming the color blue
And then who wouldn't know?
But those beautiful bright eyes..
They might not shine with that same vibrancy
After being strip-mined.
No longer intricate enough
For a young man to lose himself in
And those midnight swims would be over
What happened? people would ask
But they wouldn't understand
About lenses shattered,
Or the soft blue glimmer
That spilled out and over
And down a delicate white canvas.
These people would see
A woman painted by an aura,
And wonder if she wasn't an angel.
39 Assorted Flavors
White-hot talking hands grab
A girl, and her golden teeth
Melt in her mouth…NOT in her hand.
The token white girl,
The newest Old Navy tek-vest twin
Making another "stab me in my ears to make it stop" commercial.
While crazy white shirt and hat guy
Must be crazy Ed from ATR
Or Uncle Eddie and that crazy
Bastard slam-dunks "Power of Love"
As he stomps back to the future.
Simon Boliviar + crew stay
And harvest the crop (to feed the HumVees)
But just end up smoking it
Like some crazy blue caterpillars from Wonderland
And my broker says speculate in Scooby-snacks.
Uncle Ben's Five Minute men
Ambushed!!
Robber-Barons 4 feet short
And their red scarves play
The diamond song, but diamonds aren't forever
The Tree of Might grows still
Bearing its synthetic fruit,
Unaware that Pooh is STILL the silliest bear around.
Dirty Limericks For My Friends
There once was this guy named Ryan
Who couldn't get laid but kept tryin'
Then this girl in a thong
Saw his big schlong
And he finally quit all his cryin'
My friend Patrick has a big wang
That drags on the ground when it hangs
And his girlfriend Colleen
Who is rather obscene
Fucked him so hard his ears rang
This guy Rob I know has a big dick
That his girlfriend would frequently lick
So he took her to bed
And she gave him good head
And he came several times really quick
I have this good friend named Cam
Who was screwing this model named Pam
He whipped out his willy
And said, "What the dilly"
And all she could say was, "God Damn!!"
*This is an ode I wrote to Dr. Suess
Today I awoke, my day jumped to a start
And I felt like my heart was missing a part.
Today, on Valentine's Day of all days,
My girlfriend was three hundred miles away.
But then my feet hit the floor as I leapt out of bed
And I made a quick dash, down the hallway I sped.
For a wonderful thought had sprung into my head.
Six minutes later, one-tenth of an hour,
I had finished my shower, and was off to buy flowers.
I stifled my sadness, and that lump in my throat,
And I threw on my shoes and flung on a coat.
I stopped only once, to grab some quick cash.
Then I took off again with a splish and a splash
I ran through the door, smack into a line
Of twenty-five men with the same fate as mine.
"Forget this," I said without skipping a beat,
And ran back out the door and into the street.
I searched for a florist, down each road and each lane
And just when I thought that I might go insane
I passed a new shop, quite small and quite plain
"Flowers" the sign above the door read
And from cheek to cheek my grin quickly spread.
Behind a desk stood a man with a smiling face,
And I knew I had finally found the right place.
He looked much like my grandfather, hair gray and white
In his eyes shone a light, just ever so slight.
As I asked for my flowers, "A dozen roses please, red"
He spoke to me, "Think boy. Come on, use your head.
Don't buy her flowers, write a poem instead."
I stopped, and I thought about what he had said.
"I've written more than a few poems myself
Take a look over there, right up on the top shelf."
My eyes opened wide and my jaw hung there loose
As I read from each book the name Dr. Seuss.
He looked at me, smiled, and laughed just a bit
And then pulled out a chair and asked me to sit.
I couldn't believe that right there on the shelf
Were all forty-four books by The Doctor himself.
As my eyes wandered back to the top shelf once more.
He asked that I please call him Theodor
I shook his hand, my face now bright red,
Sat down in my chair, looked up and said,
"You wrote about fishes, one, two, and blue
About bright green grinches, and Cindy Lou Who
The Sneetches, the Lorax, and creatures like that,
And lets not forget the Cat in the Hat,
Or Yertle the Turtle who watched every day
The north and south going Zaxes, going their way"
We talked for a while, long into the night,
And then he said, "You've got a poem to write"
I thanked him for the wonderful time that I had
And we shook hands again, just a little bit sad
I sat by the shop for a while that night
And soaked up the soft rays of starlight
Until finally done, I picked up my feet
And walked past the sign read "Mulberry Street"
Mattress Tags
When I was little
Not young, that's
after I was little…
I always wondered
What I looked like with my eyes closed.
And I thought, (I think), that
If I could open my eyes fast enough
Faster than 3.0 x
108 meters per second, and/or the speed of light
That I could catch a quick glimpse.
Then again, I thought
That I would be arrested
For removing the tag on my mattress,
And cried myself to sleep one night
Convinced I would be in jail the next day
And now that I'm 90% sure
That the escalator won't suck me in
And flatten me out,
Now that I've discovered that
Twizzlers aren't the only things
That make mouths happy,
I wonder what will happen
If I trip a sine wave and it careens out of control, taking out six cars
and a guide monkey in the process.
I think…
Everyone would be watching me then
And I wouldn't have the chance,
To practice opening my eyes in front of the mirror.
1:20 A.M.
I spend a random hour
Wondering about the escapist
Philosophy of the roadrunner,
His bottle half-empty,
But two-thirds full of something
Other than midnight.
Before the fan completes its sick and
Cyclic path I slip uncertain
And laugh because it's not me but
I wouldn't care if it was me in this
World of swords and sorcery, bowing
Down to this king, and his rapier quite
Right in its thoughts that it might be
Sentient, and must be wiser than He.
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