growing up

The Poison In You

What if I wasn't like you?

And I was just me, and Myself was true?


And if you did bad would it mean I would too? 

Would it mean if I did it, I'm exactly like you?


Would I be subject to your evil?

Would I be subject to your internal upheaval?


What if I am good in spirit,

And you might just rather not hear it


And if I did bad, does it mean I'm just like you?

Looking for an excuse for the culprit that causes blue?


Decisions left to baseless comparison

Myself gone from me, and origin

She tells me so, I'm just like him and her

Do you see my other qualities as just a blur?


Bring my poison, she admits me to it

Determines me as someone else and then she sits


Then, who am I?

A continuation of your deranged views, someone elses cry?

December Sky

When the bitter December air blows and the girl

screams on the street corner, a Christmas list of dreams and demands

in her unrelenting grip, a bit homesick, though she is young,

wishing her poppa hadn't drifted so far

from who he was when she was born.


When at school the boy had day dreamed of staying home

and keeping the door closed--

now amidst his mother's disillusioned cries to be understood

and the solace of the radio in his room,

he imagines himself singing "Blue Christmas" like Elvis

and impressing all the kids at school.


When the young woman pulls a tray of chocolate chip cookies

from the oven and turns on the television,

wishing there was someone there to share them

and so she opens the window and smells the night,

the snow approaching with the wind from beyond the moonlight.


And the young man strikes the guitar strings with fingers

cold to the bone, a tragic tale sung in every note

but his heart beats warmly and echoes up the street

along the cool walls of every home

in search of something kind


underneath the December sky.  

New Experience

I've recently come into

a whole new experience...


I don't know

how to write about it,

so I'm just gonna throw it out...



I've recently started

getting to know myself,

or more specifically,

my body.


Trying to figure out

what touches will

make me feel great,


what kinds of pressure

I need to use,

to feel great!




for those who've figured it out,

and those who haven't,

I'm talking about masturbation.




I said it....


Maybe I shouldn't have,

but I did.


And now,

I want to learn more!



How do I touch,

to make myself feel good?


Where do I touch,

to make myself feel good?


I want to know,

I need to know,

how to make myself feel good!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Yea... I know that this probably is something that I probably shouldn't have written about... but It's all true, haha...

Sorry if anyone finds it offensive. If so, let me know and I will remove it!

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I love a child’s birthday party...the chaos, the gifts...the surprise

But most of all I like seeing our world through a child’s eyes.


At a child’s birthday party their life is full of adventure and filled with thrills

They don’t know in the near future they’ll have responsibilities and bills.


At a child’s birthday party they willingly wear the same hats

They don’t know nor do they care who’s a Republican or who’s a Democrat.


At a child’s birthday party they play together without shame

They don’t see, and haven’t been taught, how not everyone’s the same.


At a child’s birthday party their thinking cake and gifts and snacks

They don’t know of the troubles in Syria or Korea or Iraq.


At a child’s birthday party they celebrate the child and the season

They don’t know there are people out there who will harm them for no reason.


At a child’s birthday party they eat everything that’s on their tray

They don’t perceive there are people in the world who won’t eat at all today


If you think about it we only have a few child’s birthday parties to attend

For when they are no longer children this type of party comes to an end.


They outgrow the child’s birthday party and the angelic way they play

As the world, our world, encroaches and peels their innocence away.


Oh we wish it wouldn’t, we wish their lives could always be this innocent and hearty

As we wish their world would always be just like a child’s birthday party.


For a moment we’re transported when everything was innocent and good

We realize those feelings are fleeting, and we would have kept them if we could.


But of course we can’ most of us this comes as no surprise

That’s why I love a child’s birthday party...seeing the world through a child’s eyes


And I wonder, as I think of my life and how my innocence has passed

If this is the part...and these are the children whose innocence will last...


Yes I love a child’s birthday party, it’s so fun and boisterous


For as I watch a new generation play together I think there’s hope for the rest of us.

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Daydream Believer

human beings



^^open in new tab to hear^^


I don't know how you feel,

Only you know that.


I know what can happen to a person

When they have been beat down

To a point where they feel they cannot 

Handle living anymore,

You can close yourself off from feeling,

Sort of like a shut off valve is in the back

Of your subconscious,

And you just decide that it isn't

Worth feeling anything at all

Because if there is going 

To be negativity along with it,

Well, you would rather feel nothing

At all...ever could care less.


Life wasn't supposed to be like this, right?

There wasn't supposed to be any bad feelings

Once love came to town,

The recipe doesn't call for sadness,

Not now, not ever, and if it did,

It would be like it is 

For someone like Brittany Spears, 

Or Kim Kardashian, where the entire world 

Cares about the outcome, right?


So go ahead, just roll all of those feelings 

Up into a tight little ball 

And let them roll where they will 

Inside your body...rolling along, 

Like a big black snowball collecting 

All the dark and scary real life things 

That you just cannot handle,

Because if you did, 

It would mean you have to face 

How much you resent the fact 

That you were lied to, 

Bamboozled by your own 

Loving parents hand,

Misguided by teachers, preachers, 

And well-meaning friends 

Who never had to go through 

What you're going through now--

And if they did, it wasn't as bad as what

You are going through, right?


Just let that ball keep rolling---

Or maybe you did, 

And now you're feeling it 

Roll up behind you,

And as it does, it is creating 

The reality you never asked for, 

Maybe you are feeling as if it is 

Going to just roll right over you 

And there won't be 

Anything left of you---at all,

It will take over like a bad virus,

And just as you planned, 

You'll never get to feel love again--


It only makes you scared 

To feel it, now, anyway, right?


But what of your mother and father,

And their dreams and expectations 

They have been planning for you?

Aren't you supposed to be alive

For the sole purpose of doing

As they ask? 

You want to be happy, right?

You want to be like them? 

Making them happy 

Is what will make you happy?

Or maybe you are confused

About how you even feel,

And that big black ball 

Is really about to swallow you up

And you are scared,

And underneath it,

You are angry, 




Maybe even a tiny bit hopeful...

Holding on with despair to the 

Fairytale ending---

Happily Ever After---

Admit it!! You believed it!!

You believed the lie!!


You may just want to

Make it all stop somehow, 

But you don't know how.

And you want to ask for help,

But you are even afraid to do that,

And you have no idea why,

Except for that everyone has 

Always told you asking for help

Isn't what you need.


You mean the same people

Who told you love would make 

Your life easy, wonderful, blissful

Everyday without ever having 

Any bad days or making any mistakes

And having to answer for them?

The same people who led you to

Believe that all you have to do 

Is say a Hail Mary and an Our Father

Every night and that life

Will magically fall into place? 

The same people who told you 

That as long as you behave as

A good person, citizen, student,

Then love will come and come to stay,

And now that it didn't pan out that way,

It's just your sorry fault,

Because, hell---they found a way

To make the lie appear real to them,

And if you can't then ---why---

It must be you that is doing it wrong, 











There is no right or wrong way,

You are doing it right, 

And they are doing it right

But it is not easy to be honest 

With yourself when everyone

Around you is caught up in 

Something that is only real for them,

Just as your pain right now,

Is only real for you,

And no matter who you tell about it,

That part won't change,

Because this is your life,

And the pain is your pain, 

Your experience to experience,

No one knows what you are feeling,

Nor will they ever, 

But you might be able to find 

People who will listen,

Who have had similar experiences,

Who won't lie to you and tell you 

That it's raining when they are 

Really pissing down the side 

Of your leg because their life 

Happens to be going well for them,

And maybe you aren't a carbon copy 

Of everyone you grew up with.


Maybe you are different.

Maybe you are you,

And that is enough.

And maybe once you accept that,

And once you decide that is ok,

Then maybe you will be able 

To love without having to 

Have someone else to love first.

Because how can you give 

Something to someone that 

You never had for yourself?

The choice is easy,

Love without expectaion of getting

Anything back in return,

And never love if it is not 

Coming straight from your heart,

And what you get back, 

However large or small it may be,

Will always be a bonus of loving freely,

And enjoying the simple things

In life will become your 

Greatest wealth.


Or, you can have a pretend love with someone,

Where you perform certain actions

That everyone in society says 

And believes love is,

And get back what society says 

Love is in return from those actions,

Making love the game society 

Has made of it---to make lots of money,

To get married and buy into

The system of material gain,

To be up to your neck

In bills, to make it appear to 

Everyone that you have succeeded in life,

And to never taste true freedom

Within your soul and mind,

To live your life within a strictly

Monitored boundary of what love 

Can and cannot be.

And whatever you choose 

Is what you will become.

There is no right or wrong way,

There is only the way that is 

Going to be best for the person

You have grown to be,

Or the person you would like 

To grow to be, which doesn't

Involve anyone else until

You learn who that person is

within yourself



Choose wisely, whatever you choose,

And decide to be happy with it,

Whatever you choose.


3:25 AM 7/26/2013 ©


Author's Notes/Comments: 

just some thoughts on feelings and ways people may feel.


(photo is not my creation)


becoming me

(must open in new tab) 




her fingers became as the cloth,

and the cloth became 

to the needle,

one stitch, 

two stitch, 

against the thimble,

snugly fitted around the tip of her finger,

and then the lacy neckline,

 resting on the cleavage of my bosom,

shoulders of satin and chiffon 

now held in such strong arms

 reminding me of those 

that lifted me up after so many 

bumps and bruises, cuts and scrapes

healed with hand-me-down stories 

and fancy bandaids,

lots of love and bumpy roads 

to balance the inner raging storms,

as i learned to ride a two-wheeler,

to make my bed,

wash the dishes, and sweep the floors,

plant gardens, drive a car,

and pay rent to keep the roof 

 above this dizzy head,

that twirls in this trance,

and i still wonder sometimes, i the dancer, or the dance?


2:03 PM 7/2/2013 ©



Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about what it feels like growing up.In the poem. She is dancing as a grown woman looking back at her mother's hands making the dress and her father's guiding hands as she grew. 

Wild Ride

For young boys whose attempts to fornicate get a "no",
It could be wise to demand she live up to her word,
For you grow in a world too excessively mired,
By the use of words tainted through the educations
We grown ups have inspired,
A "no" from a girl any age can mean lust,
Or a lifetime of labels it can easily cost,
Even if she proclaims it was not what she meant,
Know her words will mean little to the judge,
There will be no one to blame but yourself,
And your name cursed for life, holding the grudge,
Abuse can be real and believe that it's wrong,
But the meaning it seems can be twisted,
Be discerning about this, and weigh every word,
Please don't let yourself be that easily black-listed,
Even marriage won't guarrantee you won't get a dingbat,
Our society's become quite a sham,
Don't be rushed into things you're not sure of,
As the woman has taken the wheel, I'm not lying, this is real,
The world's fast as it can.



6:17 PM 4/17/2013 ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A word about abuse.

Featherless Wings

Spiralling down, the world turns sideways;
If only it would stay still I could arrange my thoughts.
Take what you own to pay for your own funeral,
A paralysed catharsis,

Trying to crawl its way into living.

A second hesitation hanging on a trip wire,
The explosion comes before the paranoia.
To fight such weak and juvenile demons,
Is an effort wasted instead of walking way.
Saying sorry for sorry's sake:
The changeling reverting to another seed.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Change is necessary as long as you remember where you started from.

Life saver

The memories of a young and innocent boy, the memories of a different childhood, so many memories he remembers not, images thrown away, long forgotten, yet lingering deep inside, holding on not letting go, a piece that changed everything, creating what stands today, memories people don’t know of, memories people wouldn’t dream of, few would understand, as they say it takes one to know one, that young and innocent boy, changed forever, his once young and ever sweet smile, never same, sweet and soft yet holding a secret, not so innocent, not so free, the freedom taken, the confidence crumbled by an insignificant few, the childhood of a boy, a boy with a heart of gold, a heart hurt, torn at again, and again, yet never closed, the young boy turned guilty, never the same, they say if you can’t beat them join them, that heart no longer wanted the pain, the disappointment, it turned dark, shading the warm and light it embraced, those insignificant few, who cared not of him, had pushed, forcing his path to change, no longer strong enough to hold on, no longer wanting to hold on, hold on to the story that followed, that young boy was no longer that young and innocent boy but a growing adolescent, with heart full of hate, a hate he or no other understood, towards the world, towards his closest, the pushing and pulling, the tearing and beating to his heart, had left no space for love, a space that once was filled with love, filled with peace, no longer truly in control, he followed his suppressors, following their footsteps, not taking his own, that boy learned to hurt, learned to cheat and lie, learned to not care, learned to take without approval, he learned to tear at others the way he had been torn at, those memories, that boy in no control, blinded by himself, blinded by the hate and anger, the hate and anger no one really understood, the hate and anger he never understood, never figured out but later learned and matured from, that anger and hate had forced a change, that adolescent was leaving his world, to start a new one, a new one not holding a long future, a short lived revolution, a revolution that would leave scars, scars that would disappear, then surface, to remind that boy, remind him of where he come from, remind him of what he was, these scars came from a different suppressor yet the same, same shit different story, this short lived revolution, was a one, only he knew, a one he never revealed, never until this day, his creator never discovered, scars that for many lives to come would decide every move and step, every choice, every decision, the scars that made him feel not wanted, not needed, the scars that made that boy, feel like he had no purpose, the scars that brought thoughts of end, thoughts of whether there was any point to go on, the dark had turned to pitch black, had he any desire of continuing, any desire following this lonesome road, this road now filled with the hate and the anger, the resentment, the nasty belief that nothing good, would ever come of this, this waste of a life, he was too coward, to finish what his creator had started, he dared not finish the job, put an end to the horror, he had no choice but to push on, was he too coward, or was it that young follower, that soul that he envied, a soul he had grown side by side with, that soul he had hurt, hurt so many times, mistreated and bullied, yet loved and hated at the same time, was this the meaning, the meaning for living, he was too young, too young to understand, to know, but something had to change, because his smile was long forgotten, a smile many to this day question its presence, a smile very few witness, a smile with low self-confidence, never again innocent, that boy, that adolescent, now neither, but a young man, a young man changing worlds yet again, leaving everything, everything but the memories, change was coming, light was dawning, many could say it wasn’t so tough, many would say they’ve experienced worse, maybe, maybe not, but no one would ever know what that boy felt, what that boy remembered, no one would ever understand or feel the hate and anger, the dark, the resentment towards the world, that he believed he was born with, even today still wonders, but a hate and anger that now fights with a love, a light that grows ever stronger, the young man, that once was a young and innocent boy, was now a fighting young man, a young man fighting for his life, fighting for what he loves, fighting for those he loves, still he suffers from the memories, the scars and his suppressors, from the lives he’s lived, the experiences that made what stands today, he looks back on that day, the day he was too coward to end what was given to him, to end the mistake of a life he felt he lived, and wonders, what was holding on, what was it, that didn’t want to let go, was it that young soul that pushes him still to this day to do better, just to impress, that young soul, the only soul to always awake that innocent boys smile, the only soul that actually could truly hurt, truly scar his soul, he was the soul that saved that innocent boys heart, a true hero, a hero that would never sadly never know, never really know what he did, he saved a life. He saved…

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