Ok. So check it out- I am going to be begging for money a lot in the coming months to help send The Writing Wrongs Slam Team to Boston for the National Poetry Slam.
HOWEVER this is a separate sand different kind of plea.
I just found out that I did not get a job I was told I was pretty much a…
Big thanks to anyone that reblogged or placed an order.I am reblogging again just because I am not quit out of the woods yet.
Thanks <3
Thank you so much. I am happy you are enjoying my work.
If you are interested in owning my work in print you can buy mt chapbooks on the mercy page of my website:
WileyPoetry.Weebly.com
Ok. So check it out- I am going to be begging for money a lot in the coming months to help send The Writing Wrongs Slam Team to Boston for the National Poetry Slam.
HOWEVER this is a separate sand different kind of plea.
I just found out that I did not get a job I was told I was pretty much a shoe in for. This coincides with my needing to pull together a security deposit to take over my apartment when my roommate moves out at the end of the month.
I am not asking for handouts
I am asking for you to take a look at my merch page and buy a book or cd or both so I can stay in the apartment that I run home to like an excited new lover
http://wileypoetry.weebly.com/merch.html
Shipping is included in all prices-some quanitites of some things are limited.
Thanks.
Effects Of Thinking White People Are “All Like That”:
- Literally nothing other than white people having their feelings hurt on the internet
- I’m not joking there is no real world consequence of this
Effects Of Thinking People of Color Are “All Like That”:
The Folly of Youth
You would have loved me then
in those untamed days of purple hair and elephant bells
when I was afraid of my very own breasts
but little else.
Our first date would have had us
lifting a flat blue bottle of Mad Dog 20/20 from the corner store
in the enormous back pocket of your skater jeans
and drinking it under a cloud of graffiti in the abandoned racquetball courts in Westgate park
rewarding each other’s toughness for holding back the cough and shudder of malt liquor kickback with bursts of long hard kisses and secrets bitten into necks.
We would have skipped Mrs Bennett’s 9th grade Biology class to trade virginities in your mother’s two job unchaperoned house.
We’d smoke pot and stare at the glow in the dark stars on your ceiling
plastic sheen in daylight until the windows darkened and they smiled back.
We would celebrate at a basement party in a boys house
whose mother punched her maternal time card the day he turned 18
by moving a man with a rent check into the 2nd bedroom and the absence she left on her way to Nevada to finally begin her life.
We would glow like those same sun heavy plastic stars
and not let go of one another’s hand
even and especially when Joey Williams proves himself a lightweight by vomiting a still intact handful of cheese puffs onto the screen door after only 3 Mike’s hard lemonades.
We would be drunk and safe on the folly of youth.
We would be a pair of soft hands here.
We would never think about growing old.
We met instead in the years the hard lessons came to collect.
Where I am alone a calloused fist, God fearing, and begging you not to make a joke of me.
You have only just earned your knee caps and wear them proud and shiny like medals
I cannot possibly ask you to give them up to me so soon,
and I understand this.
After a fertilizer plant exploded in the town of West, Texas
A local news station in Columbus, OH went to interview a farmer living near the Scotts Chemical Plant in Marysville just an hour or so away.
They asked him if in light of this recent tragedy he was scared to live so close to the Chemical Plant
and he said, “Well sure, but this is my home,you cant run away from from everything that might explode.”
And I understand this too.
I am walking home under an awning of college boys grand standing on roof tops
chucking beer bottles onto the lawn.
a home I will not live in this time next week
a home I never quite belonged in no matter how we arranged the furniture
We haunted the attic of this home together for a year.
On Sunday morning 2 men with a truck will come and take all that is mine
away from all that is yours.
In the new house I have already decided to place the bed
that used to be our bed
but is now just my bed
against a wall the way you hated for the way it made you feel trapped
but it always made me feel safe.
Last week you found your house key for the first time in 3 months
while I was at work
and scrawled a love note in ink on the drywall we never got around to painting
I cannot take this with me when I leave here.
My friend Jon says it is a fact
that the frontal lobe of your brain has not yet fully developed
this is the place in the brain where forethought and empathy live
it does not complete development until we are nearly 25
You are 22 now.
Penelope waited 20 years for Odysseus to return to her.
I am not waiting for you
but I am not not waiting for you either
My fully formed frontal lobe tells me it is unlikely you will return
that the smart thing to do is to move on from this explosion
My heart though,
she met your heart somewhere less tame
she thumps on a promise where we grow old together
and
she likes to be called Penelope sometimes.
Because telling fat people that they are in fact humans that deserve dignity and respect automatically means you’re ~*GLORIFYING OBESITY*~
By the way, don’t dribble on to me saying you worry about a fat person’s ‘health’. That’s just a bullshit excuse to voice your unwanted opinion on a fat person’s body considering you wouldn’t give a single flying fuckadoodle about someone’s health if they were skinny. Besides another person’s health is none of your damned business anyway. Run along now and preach to a choir that actually cares.
I’m going to be honest, so long as you’re not hurting anyone, you can eat soy sauce and milk duds all day long for all I care.
thank you so much for this comic imp.
