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
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
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
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.