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Hey YOU!

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  • Anna Ruiz
    Hey YOU!. Thanks for being YOU, you got me fired up all right, tons of heaping, leaping flames, if I were a bull, I d be snorting fire, you pissed me off,
    Message 1 of 1 , Aug 1, 2007
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      Hey YOU!.

      Thanks for being YOU,

      you got me fired up all right,

      tons of  heaping, leaping

      flames, if I were a  bull,

      I’d be snorting fire,

      you pissed me off,

      you’ll always piss me off,

      cause I call it indignation or

      righteous anger,

      even if you don’t and here I was

      thinking I’m wayyyy  too tired

      to fight even the good fight.

       

      you have no soft edges for a woman

      or to be close to the essence of being

      like a woman, I wonder who cut

      your balls off?  Is that why you are

      the way you are?   See, my dear,

      I think with my heart, and you can’t get

      your mind out of the clutter and the gutter

      of your own ego to see how YOU are. 

       

      And guess what!  Before you can claim the upper

      hand and say to a starving man:  Go fish!  You have

      to feed them first, it’s hard to listen on an empty

      belly.  And what you say is always empty cause

      you don’t know how to fill from your heart.

       

      You think you’re special?  Well, you’re not

      unless I am!  So we’re a perfect mirror for

      one another, aren’t we?  and isn’t that ironic

      or iconic? 

       

      You remind me of one of those thin-lipped

      pursing-mouthed finger-shaking bible-thumping

      old women who are shriveled up inside; are you?

      Funny thing your very own bible are these weapons

      of your mouth and mind you hold on to with a short

      leash.   Yeah,

      but YOU’LL never see that.  You’re way too blind

      and stuck on yourself in your own ‘rightness’ YOUR
      FALSE PERSONNA.  Give it up sister, ain’t pretty

      by a long shot, a mind is a terrible thing to waste

      throwing it around like you do. 

       

      And if I throw my heart around, which I admit I do,

      you’ll never read this poem about not having any

      faith in the words a poet writes.

       

       

       

       

       

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