just put a title....while I take my nap
Me? eh- well I stayed in bed, I guess. I did plan my life but I just didn’t have enough courage to throw my sheets away, make a cup of coffee and do a damn thing. Or maybe I was just too afarid to try because according to my stupid brain, watching trashy television was more important than doing anything to put a valid job under my bio, intead of ‘former child’ or it might have been the heavenly pleasure of nothingness.
Anyways....I could have been a human, if I chose to but being a slouch is much more relaxing, must say.
I always tell the truth, even when it's not the popular thing to do. I never go along with the crowd, unless I agree with the crowd.
I do not care how much money you have. I am not impressed by fame, fortune, power or influence-
Too many people put a price on character, but I don't.
If someone is lying, and I can prove it- I call them out!
I have lost relationships by doing this-
with no regrets.
if you're wondering what I mean by "proof?" Most people do not know how writers deal with emotions- We write down details, the date and time, as well as our feelings. Most will never remember those details, but we do.
-Don't tell them
What have I done...
I have been a bad friend to bad friends in the past. The person I was friends with (lets call them Person,) clamed I am immature, rude, and a few other things. She declared I needed to change, all because I had made a few mistakes. I told a friend about something we did, that she never told me I couldn't say, yet she found out and was angry "I don't want to brag," I told the same friend something else, something she also never said I couldn't say, and then lied about it because I knew she would chastise me. Once again she found out. But yet claiming I need to change is what I find rude, I have other friends who have not once told me I need to change, I even get along with one quite well, so clearly there is something about herself she also needs to change. I will admit that I was part of our fighting though.
So I suppose this is what I have done, hurt Person, and my x-friend. This is what will keep me from being friends with them ever again. Not like I want to be friends with them anyways.
in the library, there was a dark bronze statue of a lady, on her knees, in anguish, her face looking to the heavens. wailing at some terrible loss, her her mouth was open in a perpetual scream of greif. the statue was commisioned by someone who had lost their son in the war.
being young and innoncent, and after reading the plaque, i could not help it, that everytime i passed that corner, i would look around, make sure there was no one that would disapprove or tell on me. i would then take index cards, make nice balls from them and put them in the languishing lady’s mouth, filling it. it was smooth inside, you see, a shallow bowl that i climbed and examined, and it looked so funny when filled with paper balls. something like an overflowing bucket of popcorn kernels.i realize now, that it is a good thing i was not yet aware of other things that could be done to women that a prone in those situations and positions, though i trust that my successors, in recent years had better eduction and as little shame, if not less.
so here you have it, callous disregard of the greif of a mother, extra points because the son was a soldier.
who did i NOT offend?
now i could make excuses, say i was only ten years of age. i would question the wisdon of putting a statue, obviously very important to someone, at a hidden corner of a public library.
but these are excuses, i am ashamed of the insensitivity i had shown, and hope that the public will forgive my bitter offense.
Come clean, now.
So, kiss and tell?
Oh, what the hell!
um, ‘fictional’ ...
That’s the ticket!
I smoked a lot.
Maybe, ’twas pot.
Clinton did, too.
No inhale? Boo!
Who is to say
some didn’t stray,
go the wrong way,
in lungs, to stay,
with blood to mix?
I’m in a fix.
I cannot see
to cop a plea.
I held it in,
can’t stop my grin!
and ‘might’ have been
on that island.
with old Clinton
and Jeff Epstein.
My rhyme’s not great,
nor was that freight
Ghislaine would groom.
Bye! (Where’s my broom?)