Best Philosophygirl Poems
Pretty girl all made up
An image for the eye
She appears so perfect but it's a lie
She Is fake in every way
Plastic surgery fake hair
So fragile touch her and shell tear
Pretty little girl perched up for all to see
Is this really what you want to be
A porcelain doll
Trapped with strict laws
Scolded for the simplest flaws
Your beauty won't last forever
How long till you fall
Ticking time bomb they can only push you so far
When you break you'll shatter
"**** without sound
Is not nearly as good,"
The girl with the scorpion tattoo
Turns and says to me.
"Duh," I comment.
"It's as if a part of our
Brain
And sex drive
Are turned off," she tells me.
"Turned off,
Would be
The right expression," I smirk.
"I wonder," the girl ponders
"If deaf sex
Doesn't feel as good."
"That's ridiculous," I explain,
"Deaf sex would feel better...
Haven't you ever heard that
When people lose a sense,
Their other four senses
Become heightened."
She smiles, "Did you ever
See that pizza commercial?"
"The one with the family,
Where one guy has a
Big NOSE,
One guy has a
Big MOUTH,
One guy has
Big EYES,
And one guy has
Big EARS?" I ask.
"Yup," she says, "I love that commercial."
"That commercial speaks volumes about senses," I say.
"How do you mean?" she inquires.
"Well, there is a NOSE, MOUTH, EYES, EARS, but NO FEELING.
There is no part of your body that
Could be enlarged to emphasize FEELING,
Because you feel with your entire body.
FEELING is a superior sense.
It is better than the other senses.
It is the gateway into intuition and extra-sensory perception."
"Really?" the girl asks.
I can see the outline of the scorpion
Underneath the hem of her dress.
"Well, that's what I think," I tell her.
"So?" she comments.
"It's also what I FEEL."
By: Joseph DeMarco
"The Lassie Who Can Blush"
By Rachel Heffington
I would give many a dollar,
I would give a golden thrush,
If you showed me really, truly,
A young lass who still can blush.
There are many "happy" women
Who have laid their values bare,
Who parade in shameful clothing
That low men might think them fair.
But the kind of girl I notice,
Isn't one who's in a rush,
Not a girl who's bold and brassy,
But a lassie who can blush.
A blush is colored innocence,
The rose of modesty,
The proof of wholesome maidenhood
Through endless history.
And oft I smile to myself
As I catch a tell-tale flush,
"There's still a precious group of them-
Those lassies who can blush!"
I would give many a dollar,
I would give a golden thrush,
Just to see old-fashioned sweetness
Of a lass who still can blush.