I’ve moved out (of school),
I’m moving in (to school).
My joke is that I’m having a ‘moving experience.’
Graduating college (3 days ago) was a dream come true
I’m starting a master’s degree in 7 days.
You have to admire the efficiency.
Do I have your permission to bear my soul?
I might have imposter syndrome.
I’m a harsh critic—of everything—but mostly me.
I’m over the romance and pressure of school.
I’m starting the romance and pressure of school.
Don’t worry, this isn’t hapless, sad girl literature.
Or a diary—it’s a portrayal of my inner life.
.
.
Songs for this:
What Dreams Are Made Of by Evann McIntosh
Messy by Lola Young [E]
On Each Foot a Flipper Flopper
After he had so eloquently elaborated
Problems and obstacles were created
Spirits of supporters should be uplifted
Away from subject topic always drifted.
If euphoria really was originally European
Was now In America and we were seeing
To bright Bernie's answers have to yield
From out of pure blue or place in left field.
A monumental, moving experience had been
And like a revolving door going out and in
Continuous, constant complaining was yelling
What could be next story he would be telling?
From his speech writers was always a leech
Can tell by his each and every canned speech
Maybe what he might do for a show stopper
Wear goggles and on each foot a flipper flopper.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Once sailing the high and might seas
Now I get blown over by a breeze
Could reach the stars now I can't reach my knees
Check my pants every time I sneeze
When my knees rub together it brings me to tears
Doctor says I have to limit my beers
Getting medical tests just heighten my fears
So why the hell do they call these the GOLDEN YEARS
If I don't wear glasses, I just can't see
When I get up in the morning, I just can't pee
It's almost impossible to bend my knee
My chastity belt ain't got no key
Doctor said I won't tell you no lie
You're going to live until the day you die
And the longer you live, the richer am I
If you ever lose medicare I'm going to cry
These are the GOLDEN YEARS. Let's celebrate
Bran muffins and prunes on a paper plate
Metamucil doesn't taste that great
A moving experience. that's my fate.
i write poetry
one word at a time
a feeling,
a thought,
a moving experience
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