Grew up in an anti drama queen fam.
Any whininess had to be spewed on the lam.
Tho we were all girls we were taught to buck up, son;
seems that dad really had counted on me bein' born one.
If I had, I'd have been donned WFH the third
with expectations 'tached that I never heard
'cept in subtleties only mind-readers could get.
Holy Cow! Back then few (or less) envisioned the net
where (if I feel like it) I can say,
“You know, I've had one supreme crap of a day
and it's your fault, cause you didn't notice
my new shade of eyeshadow. Oh! This
ain't stoppin' here.. am just getting' started
remember last month when you farted
and I had to tell all the people around
that, yeah at first it's rank but if you are grounded
the undertones will grab ya. Okay, will stop here
genetic and social impressions of mine I don't fear
so much but what am made of.
Categories:
whininess, family, philosophy,
Form: Rhyme
I love the way she wears the sun
In her hair; and the way the rain
Beads on her delicate shoulders;
I love when her eyelids flutter
In early morning springtime breeze;
I love the way she pouts and sulks
When things don’t seem to go her way;
I love it when she feigns anger
That’s soon betrayed by a smile;
I love the look of guiltiness
On her face after we make love;
I love her childlike naiveté;
Her occasional whininess
And vagaries that define her.
Categories:
whininess, lovelove,
Form: Verse