These posters document issues
That might just give MAGA the blues
Trump’s cult might get mad
The truth makes them sad
Don’t cry—we’re all out of tissues
I fell in love with your flaws
You don’t have to be perfect for me
All I want is for you to show me you love me
I don’t care if everyone is against you
Baby I got you
Don’t be perfect for me
Just grow with me and show me loyalty
I just want to be all you need
Match my effort
Consistency and loyalty
I’ll give you everything you want and everything you need
Just promise me that you got me
I love everything that they hate about you
Your flaws pushes them away but it makes me want to be near you
Your imperfections are beautiful to me
In you, I see authenticity
They can never be as real as you
They don’t have the swag the way you do
I’m in love with your flaws
You are appealing
You are you and I love that about you
Don’t get mad if they don’t like you
They wish they could all do what you are doing and that is being authentically you
I’m in love with your flaws because I know that’s what makes you, you
My Dad! My Dad with hands so grand
whether shapely straight as a clarinet
or conical as a saxaphone. He blows
through a woody-reed, his tongue
not lashing at us, but conditioned
to musically relay his love for us.
My Dad! My Dad with hands so grand.
They put together a Hammond organ.
His feet so cheerfully press the pedals,
his fingers twinkle across the keys.
Whatever instrument, he sings to us;
his voice good enough for us. Occasionally,
my Dad would get mad, lash out, but
it was not his habit. He is compassionate.
He’d keep quiet, and quietly entertain.
The things I paid for…
Like the feeling of swinging on my swingset.
It only cost a dandelion.
With seeds so harmless.
I was in high school.
I could have been happy.
If I played baseball, I would run from base to base.
But I prefer home.
I could have finished that essay.
But they say Wednesdays are a time for rest.
I still managed to graduate high school.
These days, I don't think I’d be able to tell you how.
I remember driving for the first time.
The tank was full.
Art class would have been 200 dollars.
If I had taken them.
If someone offered to pay for my vacation?
I would say it was too late.
At 25, there’s nothing that will help depression.
I’ll sit on the couch, trying to break even.
I think that kid in third grade still owes me five dollars.
I get mad about those things sometimes.
The things I paid for.
Mean nothing.
Why must we look around and compare ourselves to others?
Why must we need our lives to be oh so perfect when there’s no such thing?
I’m trying to figure out why good things happen to bad people and bad things happen to good people
Life isn’t always kind
Some days will come with sunshines and some will come with rain
Don’t get mad at me if I disappear
I have to do things that’ll keep me sane
I been going through it
I’ve been waiting for the sun to shine again
It’s been a constant battle but I know in the end I will win
Life will not always be kind to you
Sadly people you love will betray you
I understand how it feels to hit rock bottom
I don’t know how I’ve gotten through this world I’m living in
I guess Gods faith has given me strength and keep me from giving in
It's a promise to laugh at the good.
Be silly, spontaneous and comfortable being yourself.
It's a promise to be supportive.
Be the shoulder. Be the rock.
Be the hand to hold each other up.
It's a promise to accept.
Accept the flaws-the big and the small.
It's a promise to disagree.
To argue and get mad.
It's a promise to forgive.
To listen and understand.
It's a promise to compromise.
To make decisions together.
It's a promise to share.
Share your hopes and dreams.
Share your crazy ideas and fears.
Share your bed. Share your heart.
It's a promise to give.
Give each other attention.
A touch. A look. A smile from across a crowded room.
It's a promise to show how much you mean to each other.
A goodnight kiss. An I love you text.
But most importantly,
It's a promise to be true.
It's a promise to always be there.
It's a promise to love.
I choose peace
That way I choose you
You taught me how to be kind
Because of you I always kind to others
You are my inspiration to be strong
Despite the chaos you teach me patience
You manage to be calm in trouble
In silence you smile in front of me
While the world hates one another
You are silent and didn't get hurt
When I seem discourage I look at you
I'll get back on normalcy again
You are my healer in times I get sick
When I get mad, you hold my hand
You are always there in times I need you
What is this life if love not stake
Where would I go if you're not here
What am I here for if not for you.
Should I write of grand romance,
of star-crossed lovers tell?
I've not known enough of that
to really do it well.
Should I write of torrid sex,
hot and steamy affairs?
I'm old enough now to see
that there's no meaning there.
Should I write heroic tales
full of daring and lore?
But what tale could I tell you
that you've not heard before?
Should I write of politics,
get mad and take side?
But most people won't listen
if you're not of their tribe.
Should I paint a word-picture,
delightful imagery?
There's thousands of small poems
on sunset, dawn, and trees.
Should I write a Limerick,
give you the best one yet?
But who could do better than
that man from Nantucket?
...hmm...or....
Should I write of chicken wings?
A bar food mighty fine,
all those great dipping sauces,
but not too hot with mine...
Too much heat buries the flavor.
I scry through time with a crystal sphere
Asking of it my future, both far and near
Yet, the images I see were dismally unclear
(It should go without saying that I am not a seer)
I saw a black dog and it's rather cute
It doesn't bark though, perhaps it's mute?
Its silky coat shines like freshly ironed suit
Is it time to do the laundry? I do not compute
Then I saw an owl flying over my house
That's great! I hope it'd prey on the mouse
Who invaded my dresser and chewed on a blouse
The most expensive one too, that dreadful louse!
It then displayed my room, and zoomed in on my bed
Where someone had left on the pillow an old, felt hat
I tap on the hard dome, starting to get mad
Couldn't it bring a sign that can be more easily read?
Finally, it shattered, the infernal ball
I've been scammed! It couldn’t see the future after all
I was born in the Year of the Rabbit,
which left me with a very nasty habit.
I like to nibble on stuff,
sometimes nice, sometimes rough,
and when she gets mad, I get mad, dagnabbit!
I am madly alive today,
one has to get mad not to be dead.
I wander out,
wending through myself
allowing the warm west wind
kiss the thin ice of a low mood.
Smiles light up my gladding blood,
clouds scud.
I take the bright light
in the field rabbits' eyes,
to set fire to my own sight.
I must give praise to whatever,
I see it threading my reality
through this warm breath of infinity,
both I and it are madly in love
with every crazy-hearted lover.
This boisterous day
the Westerlies do blow,
and the Spring air leaps
as sprightly as a young girl
running over
a sweetly waving meadow -
and by god -
I am mad to be that green grass
beneath her!
I don’t know why I do but
I believe in you
I don’t know why but I can’t fathom my life without you
Guys try to talk to me
I admit I like the attention but it’s not the same like it is with you
I continue to believe in you
I see how great you are
I know you can go very far
You slack on things but I only get mad because I know you can do better
I have faith that you can do anything you put your mind to
Yes I get mad when you don’t do the best that I know you can because I know you have it in you
It shines bright in you
I don’t want to intimidate you but I know you can do anything you can put your mind to
I believe in you
It gets hard to accept that you’re human sometimes because I see all that you can do
Mutually Assured Destruction
Air-raid drills in the hallway,
air-raid shelters in the backyard,
neither would have worked.
If us and the Russians would have
gotten MAD at each other
the Cold War would have been toast.
In 1990 with détente,
no one would get MAD
or so we thought.
Perhaps the Russians will get MAD
at the Ukranians. The Ukraine gave
up its nukes, so perhaps AD instead.
Maybe the Iranians will now get the
bomb and be MAD at the Israelis. Or
maybe the Israelis get MAD first.
Perhaps India gets MAD at Pakistan, or
maybe they get MAD at each other.
So, they will be MAD together.
Perhaps we will all get MAD at
the same time. Oh well, no one
will be left.
MADDENING.
I hate being told what to do
I have lived a long life
And I have seen too much
But everything I have been through
It tells me not to be quiet
Not to worry about other people
If they get offended, so what
If they get mad, let them
I am not there for them
I never have been, never will be
I write for me and just for me
And that is just the way it should be
© Poem – XIII/XI/MMXXIV
LRET
Tears are so easy
When you get mad.
Sometimes I talk too much
Sometimes I have to be silent.
I am not sensitive when I am angry
I don't know how to say it again.
I still have the habit of getting shy
In front of a lady or in a mirror.
I say what I want to say when I am angry
When I get mad I feel sad like I said too much.
I don't know how to pretend
I don't even know how to deal with someone else.
I think because of this habits
I can be alone sometimes.
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