Wednesday, November 30, 2011

*Put Down The Bible And Pick Up Your Clothes

Love Letter or
How I Learned To Hate The Pretty girls
Dear Creator,
Benevolent stranger,
Bearded man in the sky,
Pot-bellied meditator,

Take a rib and my hubris
bring to me such a creator
bring forth someone to create for me.
I want a painter
a writer
and a music maker
I’ve created enough and I want to be read to.

I want to fall and
Remake this cliché sin.
I’m done with pleasing you
Just a moan,
closed doors behind me.

How dare you.
You have no right and I will not forgive you.
To sleep with is beautiful, a comfort
and love is what you aren’t.
I will not forgive you
Own your mistake
own what you took
own what was taken from you.

It’s a f*ck.
You’re a fling.
I hope this makes you remember
You don’t have a choice now
The rest of the poem lies is in your head.
You made your mistake, now lie with him.


If I said I knew what exactly brought this poem on I'd be lying, it's 3:48 am and I am/was working on a paper and the beginning popped into my head and then took a sudden angry turn. I really like this one though. You've been getting a lot of songs off Anberlin's album "Cities" and I promise I'll get some different music to you, I think I'll put a Smiths song in this post below. I apologize for the lack of posts and oddity of the last ones. I usually don't apologize for oddity (That'd be a cool poem title).


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