Please direct your attention to May 13th as it's the only thing of interest in this blog
Please direct your attention to May 13th as it's the only thing of interest in this blog, unless you like random fencing convos with obscure references, or bad poetry....
Suit yourself...don't say I didn't warn you, and don't get mad about it.
I'm looking through random files on my laptop, and realize that a) I'm either in love, abnormally inspired, or was recently afflicted by a wayward muse looking for kicks (I'm thinking the last is likely) and b) I steal and recycle themes apparently, oh well, not my problem, you're the dummy reading it :-P
I think I love you (yeah it confuses me
too)
Because there is no because and it's
nothing you do...so much as it's just
because you are you (so cliche, but
true)
Like the way you flip your hair
or the way you smell and the twinkle in
your eye
or the quirky bounce in your step
(forget it, the truth is that to me your
so beautiful it brings tears to my eyes
See whether there exist sparks yet to
fly, or those that already flew, or
whether I'm never blessed to make sparks
fly for you, or whether I'll ever be the
lucky he that makes you want to become
we; you are everything known and unknown
that I ever hoped you to be
Even under a microscope your
imperfections just don't see to be, b/c
anything that's imperfect with you just
highlights how perfect you must really
be.
And this is not a poem about you, b/c
poetry can never be what you are to me
no mortal gestures or expressions exist
that encompass what you be...no this
must neccessarily be a poem about me, as
my scream fills the endless night,
"AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE I love her..."
followed by a hush, and a whisper on the
breeze, "would/could/has/?will? she ever
love me?"
Suit yourself...don't say I didn't warn you, and don't get mad about it.
I'm looking through random files on my laptop, and realize that a) I'm either in love, abnormally inspired, or was recently afflicted by a wayward muse looking for kicks (I'm thinking the last is likely) and b) I steal and recycle themes apparently, oh well, not my problem, you're the dummy reading it :-P
I think I love you (yeah it confuses me
too)
Because there is no because and it's
nothing you do...so much as it's just
because you are you (so cliche, but
true)
Like the way you flip your hair
or the way you smell and the twinkle in
your eye
or the quirky bounce in your step
(forget it, the truth is that to me your
so beautiful it brings tears to my eyes
See whether there exist sparks yet to
fly, or those that already flew, or
whether I'm never blessed to make sparks
fly for you, or whether I'll ever be the
lucky he that makes you want to become
we; you are everything known and unknown
that I ever hoped you to be
Even under a microscope your
imperfections just don't see to be, b/c
anything that's imperfect with you just
highlights how perfect you must really
be.
And this is not a poem about you, b/c
poetry can never be what you are to me
no mortal gestures or expressions exist
that encompass what you be...no this
must neccessarily be a poem about me, as
my scream fills the endless night,
"AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE I love her..."
followed by a hush, and a whisper on the
breeze, "would/could/has/?will? she ever
love me?"