I guess I write poetry I just vomit my soul onto paper I don’t know what else to call it but, poetry
Blue used to be my favorite color. Now I prefer (purple). (purple) is like blue, but more in… You’re my (more interesting, favor…
Sittin’ in a patio chair Breathin’ in the cool night air Listening to the breeze Rustling leaves in trees I’m being the love of life
I’m a take no prisoners kind of ma… A knockdown, drag out, hang if you… Calculating, ruthless, no fear Nothing to lose, nothing held dear Use you up, throw you to the curb
It won’t be pretty the tears the snot the mess Lifetimes
Rain, rain wash away All the stains of yesterday Here I stand, made of clay Mold me into my today
I stretch your being You respond with shocked intrigue Sparks dance in-between
I have no tricks. I have no sleeves. I have only me. And that’s enough.
There’s shit on your face You just threw up in your mouth Couldn’t be cuter
It’s quite a process To create a person
If you’re satisfied with yourself And the world you live in, Is that your cue To start again?
Just being yourself Is the absolute best way To show the world love
I don’t write poems for poets Flowery language, indulge us I break it down With a simpler sound And anything more would be less
Sometimes I will stare You’re just more interesting Than others in sight
If we would just ask Mother Nature for answers We might find our truths