Poem That

I was walking down the street
When guess whom I should meet
My secret admiree's boyfriend
Who is goth, and there his description
Should end
But to continue the poem
Lest I should roam
And ignore what happened next

"I've read your blog, you stupid hog"
He angrily growled at me
His foul breath rushed past me
As he did say, "I understand your metaphors
And I think you're in trouble, for they work this way.
You want my girlfriend, I'm not giving her up,
You better run off, you sad pup."
He snorted and said "poem that"
I hit him square in the back with my hat
He came after me, and we had a scrap
I came off the winner, and I'm glad to poem that

I Don't Want To Be Me

I don't want to be me
It happens occasionly
When I stop to think blue thoughts
And cut them free
Why I'm I me?
Somebody else could play the part better
I'm just learning how to act
And I haven't learned my lines
Somebody else want to be me?
It would be a great service
It would set me free
And give me time to refine
My whole act

But the director and playwright
Says I'll be fine
And tells me to go on stage
No one can fill in
But I don't want to be me
Or that's what my blue thoughts
Tell me
But my sunshine ones
Disagree

On The History Of Monkeys or Attack Of The Hormone-Crazed Teenagers

Once upon a time two young monkeys were leaping through the jungle, when they came upon a fruit. They fought over it and knocked the fruit to the jungle floor, where it went "splat" and was ruined. A year passed and the monkeys were leaping through the jungle again, when the boy monkey noticed something about the other monkey; namely, she was a girl. They fought over the fruit, yadda yadda yadda, "splat", yadda yadda yadda. Another year passed, and the monkeys were, yet again, leaping through the jungle, and this time the boy monkey let his female friend take the fruit. She promptly took it and called him stupid, and he was ashamed. They went off through the jungle. Yet another Gregorian calendar year passed, and the monkeys were still doing their monkey business. But a change had occurred in the boy monkey; he was large, pimply and stinky. When the got to the fruit, the boy monkey picked it and handed it to the girl monkey. Then, after she finished eating the fruit, the boy monkey asked, to his confusion, for he didn't even know what it meant, "ooh ohh, ahhaha k." Which in monkey language means, "Wanna make out?" The girl monkey slapped him, and said (I've already translated it) "You don't even know what that means, do you? Well I am disgusted, and I want you to know that if you try anything like that again, we're only leaping through the jungle in groups. Got it?"

Moral: Teenagers are stupid. Except for most of the females. But some times hormones take advantage of the stupidity of the teenager, and make them do something that they don't want to do. Moral of moral: Don't always blame teenagers. Sometimes blame their hormones. Moral of the moral of the moral: Never trust hormone-crazed teenagers. They will bite without provocation.

What's with guys? or A Masculine Question

I've been stating it for some time, but I've never really thought about it. But now I'm saying loudly, (sort of) and here it is: What's with guys? This is an interesting question, at least from my point of view. Ok, guys. Well, first issue is that they're mostly jerks. Perhaps "mostly" isn't right, "a great deal," would probably be more accurate. Seriously, when you're friends with most guys, they show their friendship through insults, physical violence, and rudeness. Not "friendly" behavior. Second, they're sissies. When it comes to telling someone what their completely honest opinion of that person is, they whimp out. It's all just "I dunno" and blantant lies. Maybe a little honesty would be nice now and again. Another "sissie" thing is their lack of guts with girls. Often I've heard one of my female friends say things like "I would totally melt if a guy said something like that to me," and as unfortunate as it might be to those friends, it is very unlikely that that will happen. Guys turn tail and hide, or just can't manage it, every time a sweet nice idea comes into their heads. They are just too scared and insecure to say what they want to. There is a poet and a romantic inside every guy, it's just that the poemantic persona gets squashed down by most guys to the best of their ability.

Now, this doesn't have to do with guys, but I like shouting my opinions to the world, so here goes. I LIKE GIRLS BETTER THAN GUYS! Yes, it's true, I'm a "sissy whimpo girly boy." And I don't care! I prefer the company of the gals to that of the guys for several reasons, which for the curiosity of my readers I will list. 1. Girls are nicer to look at. Yeah, I can't believe I just said that either. But, it's true, so there. I would rather be sitting in silence with nothing to do in the company of girls than in the company of guys. If you approach it objectively, most girls keep a higher standard of personal hygiene than the average guy. They also are prettier. 2. Girls are less sarcastic and mean than most guys. If a guys shows another guy some poetry he wrote, he is probably going to get blasted. On the other hand, girls are likely to be more supportive of such efforts. 3. And lastly for the time being, girls are so, so much nicer in nearly every respect than guys. They are a pleasure to spend time with, and are very easy to talk to. They can also be trusted to be good, silent witnesses to you if you need to unload something. Well, there you go. That should settle any questions about me being sexist. <;) Plus, that allowed me to yell collectively at guys, and air out some of the complaints I had. That's all f' now folks!

Sunshine

Come on raincloud
Look at the sun
Surprise, she's coming up again
The world's still there
We're still alive
Let's go running
Into the sunflowers
Great big fields of them
They're waking up again
Come on raincloud
The sun doesn't hurt
Open up your eyes
Your misery and depression?
Well, I love to tell you
They really don't matter
Yeah they really don't matter anyway
But you should try sunshine
Makes you feel ok

If She Could Only See

(the poem/song below is a rewrite of part of a song by the band Tonic. I just changed a couple words, but I'm not stealing it. The song belongs entirely to whoever has the copyright, which is certainly not me.)

If she could only see
The way
I love her
Maybe she would understand
Why I feel this way
About
My love
And what I must do
If she could only see
How blue
Her eyes could be if she says
If she says she loves me

If you watch the sun,

your eyes burn out, but for one brief moment the world lights up like never before.

Waiting For A Life

I'm sitting here waiting for my heart to start
For the breath to come back into my lungs
I've been thinking of you but I'm growing dizzy
Hoping you could kickstart me with your love
But that's not going to happen
I've seen the future, it said run
But I can't, I'm hiding
From the world, from everyone
I wanted more than I have right now
Right now I'm wanting for love evermore
But I'm just waiting, waiting, waiting
For the breath to blow up into my face
And my heart to respond to your embrace
And I'm waiting for the light to change
Waiting for your light to arrange
Waiting for my life to change
Waiting for a change
Waiting for a life

(part two)

But my heart didn't start
My breath fled away
Thoughts of you couldn't save me
Maybe you could have if you'd been there
But you weren't
I was laid in the grave
Save me, you didn't
But you were there
Watching me down in dirt
Did you cry? I did
When I died for you
For want of you
For want of light
For want of change
For wanting my life to arrange
Its self into a form inviting your love
Wanting for a life