My Best for my first

All right, for the first poem I am posting up here, it shall be my best. I have written some awesome poetry, but none shall surpass this...if it does, then someone should give me one heck of an orgasm for how awesome that poem would be!

Vegetarian


Walking home from life,
Tired, oh so tired today,
I try so hard,
Every day I work another piece of my heart to death.
But I keep going on,
On and on and on…
And on…
Because of bills,
And rent,
And taxes,
And a thousand other insignificant things that the talking box in my living room tells me that I need,
So I become like that bunny,
You know, the pink one with a drum,
The one that goes on and on and on and on and on…
And on…
With no point but to go on…
That’s what I am,
That’s what I’ve become,
Economy’s,
Society’s,
Everybody’s pink drumming bunny.
Morning came,
And I turned on,
Night is coming,
But I can’t turn off,
Because I have to go on…
And on…
I was happy when I was younger,
I remember happy,
Back it wasn’t mine,
Back when grief wasn’t mine,
When sorrow and pain weren’t mine,
When I knew nothing of hate and fear,
When black and white were just colors in my box of crayons,
And not people,
When I had deep within me a burning joy that could not be squelched beneath the unforgiving heel of life’s cold steel boot because everyone is afraid of anything that breaks free from it’s designated lines of normalcy,
Only it could,
And it was,
Because it was never truly mine but a gift that I was to take care of,
Only I didn’t,
Because I never knew that it wasn’t mine,
Until it was gone.
What is mine?
Because I have no mine.
To have a mine I must first have a me,
And I am nothing.
I have no time,
I have no mind,
I have no heart, no soul, no laughter, no joy, no life in a lifeless world,
No mine to be mine.
All of it belongs to the top dogs,
To the fat cats, the high horses, the big corporate sharks that rip and tear through children’s dreams with their steel teeth made of money and politics in a world where that’s all that ever really matters,
And none of it goes to the underdog,
But then again,
It does.
Because people like to root for that underdog,
And no one roots for me,
No one even knows I exist.
I’m not even the underdog,
Or a middle dog,
And definitely not that top dog,
I’m just me,
And no matter what,
I have to go on…
And on…
I am perpetually crushed beneath the daily pile of bad decisions made worse because no one can look past their artificial noses and painted faces to the heart of the problem,
No one can see past the lies to the heart of me,
Because I am the problem,
And so is every other no name, no breed, no life that scuttles through the nowhere of society because we do not even rate the esteem of running through it’s sewers,
Because we are worse than sewer rats,
Because we are nothing.
And so I’m walking home,
Tired, oh so tired today,
And no one looks at me,
No one even cares,
No one looks down their plastic noses, muck filled lips, or chemical enhanced figures that are only that way because every one of them is trying to become that digitally enhanced picture of a woman who never truly existed to see the silent truth offered by my face,
My clean face,
My natural, cosmetic free face,
And none of them look past their so-called ‘fruits of labor’,
While every day I want to stand up and scream at them,
For they are not fruits, but veggies!
And like veggies they live in the ground,
And they eat, sleep, drink, think, and dream dirt but can never understand that they do so for like the mindless things they are they are incapable of knowing that they do so and because it is all they have ever known or will ever know,
And I laugh and laugh at them as I eat my salad,
And never feel sorry for the stupid carrots,
Or whatever veggie it is that improves my eyesight.
For by watching them,
And keeping the knowledge in my heart that what they do is wrong,
I see better,
Farther,
In more detail than they could ever imagine,
And yet I’m still the no one,
The nothing,
The thing to small to even crawl in the sewers of lettuce,
So what does that make me?
Tired, oh so very tired today,
As I walk in my door,
My very small door,
The only door, the only home that I can afford thanks to a world filled with discrimination, and patronization, and paralyzation and paranoid nations that still do not truly believe that a woman is anything more that a thing come from man,
And I hope it hurt him,
I hope God made Adam experience the full ‘joy’ of childbirth,
But then again,
Now that the thought has crossed my mind,
If Eve came from Adam’s body to be his wife, should we not accuse our eldest ancestors of incest?
Or, since Eve is truly of the flesh of Adam, and not of his loins, should we then consider their union to be closer to ‘jacking off’?
Why don’t any of the religious onions, or was it minions, or are they really rutabagas?
Whatever they are, they follow the word of their zucchini god so fully and whole heartedly that no word of common sense, or even the thoughts of someone who sees more clearly than they, can break through the walls of their broccoli faith to allow them to ask such questions such as this.
Or maybe, I just think too much?
And all I want to do is lie down,
I want to lie down and sleep away this suffocating coat of salad dressing, and dream away my chains of croutons, break past my walls of bacon bits and over my cheese barriers out of this world of a dieter’s lunch into some semblance of reality,
But I cannot,
Because I have to go on…
And on…
Because the little pink bunny always goes on…
And on and on and on and on and on…
Stupid carrots.

Whoa that's one pretty epic piece. I really liked it. I think it reads like a song, maybe you should try putting it to music and see how it goes . It also jumps around a bit and in its current fromat a bit difficult to read, maybe you should try breaking it into stanzas. Other than that I found this to be a really interesting an insightful poem.

I like this. You have interesting style, and I love the imagery. I can picture this being read out loud at poetry reading or something.

The slight criticism is the formating makes it a little hard for my eyes to follow, but that's probably just me...or perhaps my moniter.

I loved that poem. Really, thoroughly loved and adored it. Its brilliant. It captures precisely what I feel quite often, not to mention it was very funny, what with rutabagas and brocoli faiths and that was an INCREDIBLE analogy with the dieters lunch and all. Loved it. I cant say that enough, so I'll just stop typing and sit in awe for a while, because its too long to do any justice to except to say it was incredible, which I've already done so...[takes a deep breath] Yes. I love the way you didnt use many full stops. Hehe. As you can see it kind of rubbed off on me. But I am going to go back and reread that poem so yes. Just know that it was great.

this poem...was very interesting.

Walking home from life,

I especially liked this part, but the run on sentences made me go out of breath.

Good stuff, pretty packed-full. I especially like the tone you used. It was witty and satirical at times but was still serious enough to be powerful and important. Some of it's a bit choppy: the long and short sentences made it a bit dodgy to read, but I liked it anyway. Nice work.

Ok, I can't figure out how to do this, but it's easier to read if you copy it, put it in word, and center it. And if anyone knows how to center things with this format, please tell me! And thanks for the loving of it guys, like I said, this is my best!

Nope, no way to center that I've found yet. Even tried to use html. Bleh.

You know I love this, Soyala. I especially liked hearing you read it at the Fall Festival this year... and peoples reactions. That was nifty cool. ^^

Heh heh, thanks T-square. I'd almost forgotten that this was the piece I read there! How were people reacting? I couldn't see very well, and I was most concerned with watching you to see how you reacted, you've always been my best critique.

Lots of double-takes, especially near the ending lines, when an elderly couple went walking by and you said, "Stupid carrots" and they looked up and the woman said, "Carrots? What about carrots?"

...well, I thought it was funny.

I really liked this poem. I really didn't find anything wrong with it. which is good.

I loved your use of imagery. I could relate to this poem, which made it even better. Sometimes, when people write poetry, they don't give that feeling that the reader can connect with. I could connect with your poem. Which made it much easier to read.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that this is very well-written. Keep it up.

And the "Stupid carrots..." part was funny.

Well done!!

xoxo
-Caitlin

I really liked it as well, and I, too, found nothing wrong with it. It is very powerful in my opinion. Your imagery is great. --I'm looking foward to the next peice.

LP