En.Citatepedia^®.ro

I Am The Fat Girl

I am the Fat Girl
the one that everyone hates,
holds in contempt

makes fun of
the one who has Jenny Craig dreams of being thin;

who learns to hate her self

because of cupcakes;

who can walk pass ice cream
and gain five pounds

whose parents are thin

while telling me I just have to watch my calories

I am the one who is mean

and retaliates

by spreading rumors

that the pretty girls are lesbian

or whores

or that they take drugs.

That is me;
the last chosen in gym class for the team

The object of fat jokes;

The one who is watched in the cafeteria

to see what I am eating

who has to sit and see the small girls

eat whatever they want
who has to declare that she doesn't like chocolate

the one who can never go to the beach

to pool parties
never find clothes that fit;
wearing sheets;

who can't neck with thin boys

who can never touch down there

because I hate myself so

who has to watch TV after TV show
which show
that

fat people are the most hated people in the world
and contemptible;

no one ever says anything good about the 'fatties'

they make fun of you to your face

or speak with patronizing sentences
or offer dieting tips

and false statements of support.

Even your thin parents think you eat too much

will never get married
and secretly give up on you.

If the parents are fat like you

they don't want to go out anywhere

because fat drawns attention

to them

at the movies.

In the restaurant;

Fat is bad

You are told horror stories:
that you will get diabetes

that you will die of heart failure
that your babies will have complications

that you really are worthless

and might as well die.

That is fat.

And worse

no one understands

or even want to understand;
fat is the new leper

repulsive

even as they smile

In your face
while secretly believing

that it is all your fault
and it never stops.

I see the women over forty

crazied over their fat arms
their weight gains
their cottage cheese thighs.
Some of their will

finally understand fat.

I got a boyfriend after college

from Asia where fat is beautiful
yes fat is beautiful
in many parts of the world,
a sign of wealth
but he was a woman beater
and I had to walk away from the relationship

marrying my present husband
who is fatter than I am.

Now we go to the ice cream store

suck the ice-cream cones

our fingers

licking Dorito dust

both of us

having given up

Thanks everyone;

fat it seems
is
forever.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hate is Such a Strong Word

I hate my life.

I hate that we have to eat whatever my parents want

Everyday

Even though I usually don't like it

They don't care

I hate that I don't live up to the standards set by my brother

And parents

I hate that I'm the stupidest one in my family

And they tell me

I hate that I'm not pretty.

I hate that I am fat.

I hate that people try to tell me that I am pretty

And that I'm thin

I'm not

They won't get over it

I hate that I can't get over little things.

I hate that boys never like me.

None have

I think they're really sweet sometimes

But they all just like my friends.

I hate that all of my friends are pretty,

And nice,

And smart.

And it makes me feel really subpar.

Even though they have no idea how much it hurts.

I hate that my friends get all the attention.

I hate that I'm insecure.

I hate that I have had an eating disorder.

I hate that I'm depressed.

I hate that I am too embarrassed

So I don't go see a nutritionist

Doctor said so.

I hate that I can't cry.

I hate that I blow things out of proportion.

I hate that I am such a drama queen.

I hate that everyone is better at things than I am-

Singing.

School.

I hate that I still have glasses.

I hate that I am so uncomfortable in my own skin

And am scared to let people see the real me.

I hate that I hate so many things.

I hate that people think no one cares-

When for me they really don't.

I hate that I have absolutely zero confidence in myself.

I hate that I've thought about committing suicide.

And that I'm such a teenage cliché.

I hate that my grandfather is dead

It's not his fault he died so near a national holiday

And no one seems to notice how much it is affecting me.

I hate that my family is always stressed out.

I hate that if my parents read this

They probably would pretend to care

Then would go and complain about how horrible I am

And how I take everything for granted.

I hate that everyone else in my family can seem happy.

I hate that I am a selfish spoiled bitch

Because I don't try to be

I hate that I don't know what to do anymore.

I hate that I'm so confused.

I hate that I hate my life.

poem by Jennie Scheihing
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The Bad Pretty Girl

I am the pretty one,
the one the girls hate
and the boys pant for
and I stand aloof because
there is no room for me to be
who I am.

All I get is people reacting
to how I look
and I see them whisper
'She's so stuck up.'
I am not.
I am lonely and superior to them
that make these kinds of comments.

So all day I have to take the stares
and the mini-hatreds
just because I am pretty.
I like being pretty
it comes easy to me;
takes no effort.

My hair is beautiful and I don't have to do anything to it.
My skin is good. Thank God, no zits
My figure is good
but I get the comments when I walk through-
the Neanderthals always make comments-
and I cannot help it if my parents are rich.

So I am trapped behind this wall.
I don't have to study hard to get good grades;
this school is easy.
I don't have to work hard for anything.
Things just come to me.
But it has made a prison for me
and because I don't have to get smart
or work hard-
I can get by on my looks.
My teachers like me-
one too much,
so in the end I am doing what I hate
others do-
seeing me only in terms of how I look
and I realize I am doing the same thing to myself.

I am my looks. I am trapped.
So when boys try to talk to me I clam up
because I think there is only one thing they want.
And most of the time I am right. They do-just want
one thing.
Other's of them just want to say I am their girl friend
even if that is not true just so they can brag to their friends.

Some of them lie and claim they had you, or you
are lesbian just because you don't like them.

I am the pretty girl and most times that is pretty sad.

So I don't talk to anyone except other pretty girls.
They understand. They have the pretty girl thing too.

So we stand around sometimes and think we are superior
but we also think secretly we might be inferior and lonely too
and who is going to feel sorry for the pretty girl? Nobody that's who.

So I dated the football guy who was pretty too. It seemed he would
understand-handsome and pretty, the same thing I thought.
Boy was I wrong. He was his mothers' boy and only liked me
because he thought there was prestige in it. And I did it for
the same reason. We both were boring when alone and tried to
look like the super couple when people were around.
I was bored and truth be told I was also boring.
I had nothing to say and all's he wanted to talk about was football
and sex.
I told him no.
And then he latched onto my best friend, well I called her my best friend, but
we were not really friends. We just sorta hung out together.
My real best friend was Alma for a while. She was the ugly sidekick
pretty girls seem to attract. All she wanted to do was be with me. She did
everything I asked her to, sometimes without me even asking. I began to think that just maybe being pretty was being superior. People like Alma
made it easy to think that. She seemed to think I was superior.
I used to lie to her about all the boys coming on to me and things they said and she believed those lies. I felt I had to tell the stories because the stories seemed to mean so much to her. Besides telling her the phony stories gave me a fantasy life to make up for my real one.
We were a good pair of friends for a while until Alma told me one day about her love. Her love for me. And I realized she was not talking about friend love.
That's another thing, you get come ons from both genders and some like Alma turn into stalkers. She lied and told her friend that we had been together. A total lie.
That is why high school is prison camp for the pretty girl.
I broke down one day while talking to Geek Billy who came over to my house to fix my computer. He was rad-geek and shorter than me and I never really considered him a real person or anything so I was talking like he was not even there. I was saying 'why me, why does everyone hate me? '
He started yammering that he didn't hate me, and put his arm around me. I looked up and saw that he was not trying to jump my bones, he really was trying to comfort me like he understood and all that. It was laughable you know. I was so above him and everything but he seemed that day like a real person to me for just a tiny minute.
He left and I lay on my bed and wrote into my diary-'Geek boy loves me.'
I wrote: 'I am the pretty girl no one likes because I am above them.'

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I am the Pretty Girl-Chapter One

Pretty Hurts
 I am the  pretty one,

the one the girls hate

and the boys pant for

and I stand aloof because

there is no room for me to be

who I am.

All I get is people reacting

to how I look

and I see them whisper

'She's so stuck up.'

I am not.

I am lonely and superior to them

that make these kinds of comments.

So all day I have to take the stares

and the mini-hatreds

just because I am pretty.
 

I like being pretty

it comes easy to me;

takes no effort.

My hair is beautiful and I don't have to do anything to it.

My skin is good. Thank God, no zits

My figure is good

but I get the comments when I walk through-

the Neanderthals always make comments-

and I cannot help it if my parents are rich.

So I am trapped behind this wall.

I don't have to study hard to get good grades;

this school is easy.

I don't have to work hard for anything.

Things just come to me.

But, it has made a prison for me

and because I don't have to get smart

or work hard-

I can get by on my looks,

my teachers like me-

one too much;

so in the end I am doing what I hate

others do-

seeing me only in terms of how I look-

and I realize I am doing the same thing to myself.
 

I am my looks.
I am trapped.

So when boys try to talk to me I clam up

because I think there is only one thing they want.

And most of the time I am right.

They do-just want

one thing.

Other's of them just want to say I am their girl friend

even if that is not true just so they can brag to their friends.

Some of them lie and claim they had you,
or you

are lesbian
just because you don't like them.

I am the pretty girl and most times that is pretty sad.

So I don't talk to anyone except other pretty girls.

They understand. They have the pretty girl thing too.

So we stand around sometimes and think we are superior

but we also think secretly we might be inferior and lonely too

and who is going to feel sorry for the pretty girl? Nobody that's who.

So I dated the football guy who was pretty too.
It seemed he would understand-handsome and pretty,
the same thing I thought.

Boy was I wrong. He was his mothers' boy
and only liked me

because he thought there was prestige in it.
And I did it for the same reason.

We both were boring when alone
and tried to look like the super couple
when people were around.

I was bored and truth be told I was also boring.

I had nothing to say
and all's he wanted to talk about was football

and sex.

I told him no.

And then he latched onto my best friend, well I called her my best friend, but 

we were not really friends. We just sorta hung out together.

My real best friend was Alma for a while.
She was the ugly sidekick

pretty girls seem to attract.
All she wanted to do was be with me.

She did everything I asked her to,
sometimes without me even asking.
I began to think that just maybe being pretty was being superior.
People like Alma

made it easy to think that.
She seemed to think I was superior.

I used to lie to her about all the boys coming on to me
and things they said and she believed those lies.

I felt I had to tell the stories
because the stories seemed to mean so much to her.
Besides telling her the phony stories
gave me a fantasy life to make up for my real one.

We were a good pair of friends for a while
until Alma told me one day about her love;
Her love for me.
And I realized she was not talking about friend love.

That's another thing,
you get come on's from both genders
and some like Alma turn into stalkers.

She lied and told her friend that we had been together.
A total lie.

That is why high school is prison camp for the pretty girl.

I broke down one day while talking to Geek Billy
who came over to my house to fix my computer.
He was rad-geek and shorter than me
and I never really considered him a real person or anything
so I was talking like he was not even there.
I was saying why me, why does everyone hate me?

He started yammering that he didn't hate me,
and put his arm around me.
I looked up and saw that he was not trying to jump my bones,
he really was trying to comfort me
like he understood and all that.
It was laughable you know.

I was so above him and everything
but he seemed that day like a real person to me
for just a tiny minute.

He left and I lay on my bed
and wrote into my diary-
'Geek boy loves me.'

I wrote: 'I am the pretty girl no one likes
because I am above them.' 

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Parents Vs Children

Things that i don't understand in this world is that why do some people
get into relationship, getting married, enjoying life and making love.
But when it comes to children or when they already have kids, they
could not accept their responsibilities as parents. They do have
regrets of having kids especially if the kids are naughty, giving problem
or giving them headaches. They always beating, shouting, saying bad words to the kids saying wish you never exist, wish you never been born.
Instead of being calm, giving advice, doing good things which would make their children happy and be proud to have good parents.
Instead of thinking good ideas which would make them close to each other
.
Child is a child, they need more time with their parents. They need
attention, care, and love. Children are curious to everything, they need
to know antyhing as part of growing up. They need the guidance of
parents, but what I see nowadays is different. Parents just give material things to show their love for their kids.

Some parents just go out to parties, shopping, prefer to hang out with their friends rather than their kids. Then they just leave the children
to the nannies/babysitter.
Parents make their children be far from them instead children to get
close to the nannies who always there for them and give the love to the children. Parents must be a role model for the children, but what i see
now is that children do as what their parents do, they become more liberated.

There are also some parents who give up for their children. Some choose their own happiness, they don't like to stay at home with their kids. especially if thier husband dont have time for them too. the tendency, both couple would have a problem that result to divorce.
Where is the love that they shared? where is the promises and vows they had?

poem by Judith Kempis
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Beautiful Girls

Whether by land, sea, or air
I know they'll be there
I know they're around the world somewhere
I know they're absolutely everywhere

The beautiful girls make their lives their own
The beautiful girls have their own personalities
The beautiful girls are the ones many men will worship
They await to worship the ground that the beautiful girls walk on
The beautiful girls are pretty and confident
The beautiful girls are sexy and strong
The beautiful girls are pure and kind

Some beautiful girls will board their airships
Some beautiful girls will walk the streets
Some beautiful girls will stay in their castles
Some beautiful girls will make their return to the sea

Swords
Guns
Daggers
Wands
Staves
Magic
Books

It's your girls adventures
It's your girls world
I consider myself lucky for being in your girls world

poem by Justin Gildow
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Little Abigail and the Beautiful Pony

There was a girl named Abigail
Who was taking a drive
Through the country
With her parents
When she spied a beautiful sad-eyed
Grey and white pony.
And next to it was a sign
That said,
FOR SALE—CHEAP.
“Oh,” said Abigail,
“May I have that pony?
May I please?”
And her parents said,
“No you may not.”
And Abigail said,
“But I MUST have that pony.”
And her parents said,
“Well, you can have a nice butter pecan
Ice cream cone when we get home.”
And Abigail said,
“I don’t want a butter pecan
Ice cream cone,
I WANT THAT PONY—
I MUST HAVE THAT PONY.”
And her parents said,
“Be quiet and stop nagging—
You’re not getting that pony.”
And Abigail began to cry and said,
“If I don’t get that pony I’ll die.”
And her parents said, “You won’t die.
No child ever died yet from not getting a pony.”
And Abigail felt so bad
That when she got home she went to bed,
And she couldn’t eat,
And she couldn’t sleep,
And her heart was broken,
And she DID die—
All because of a pony
That her parents wouldn’t buy.

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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What women want...

You hate me when I'm happy
You hate me when I'm sad
You hate me when I'm calm
And also when I get mad

You hate me when I'm gloomy
You hate me when I'm joking
You hate the men who smoke
And you hate me for not smoking

You hate me when I'm silent
You hate me when I talk
Even before I speak
You act as if I spoke

You hate the way I drive
You hate the way I walk
You hate me when I'm rich
You hate me when I'm broke

You hate me when I laugh
You'll hate me if I cry
Now you hate that I'm alive
You'll hate me when I die

You hate when I appear
You hate it when I hide
You hate me when I'm near
Yet you want me by your side

You hate me coz I'm thin
And you'd hate me if I'm fat
For you think I'm made of tin
I'm your worthless doormat

You're asking me to change
And even if I do
I know I'll find myself
Still not good enough for you

Well, let me tell you baby
A fact that may seem new
I feel, I breathe, I love
We, men, are humans too

So please try to accept me
And forgive me or forget
Don't try to customize me
What you see is what you get

You're still planning to change me
Even though you know you won't
Deep inside you, you're unable
To achieve what women want

poem by Asser Mattar
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Thin

Thin, thin was the soup
ladled into the bowl.
It was watered down to make it last
as if it would keep them whole.

Thin, thin were the bodies
that sat 'round the table to eat.
They shared the watery sparseness of soup
with nary a piece of meat.

A time of discontent was here
and stomachs were never full.
This was the time they'd heard about,
stories that seemed so dull.

These stories were told with passion
by those who came before.
They jumped out of windows and stood in lines
saying, 'Please may I have some more? '

Thin, thin are the excuses
given by those in power.
No substance to substantiate the lies
given us hour by hour.

And so where does this leave us,
facing a 3rd world war?
For times become prosporous.
Isn't that what wars are for?

Thin, thin are the hopes now
that sanity will pervade the mind
of those who reap the profits
while our youth again will find

that they have been used as fodder
to bring our economy back.
Thin, thin are the excuses
for us being on the wrong track.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Girls vs. Women

Girls are insecure; Women are confident.
Girls dress trashy; Women dress classy.
Girls are students; Women are teachers.
Girls are listeners; Women are preachers.
Girls makes babies; Women raise babies.
Girls have sex; Women make love.
Girls are weak; Women are strong.
Girls fight; Women walk away.
Girls argue; Women speak.
Girls give in; Women compromise.
Girls envy. Women appreciate.
Girls give up. Women strive.
Girls look. Women see.
Girls take. Women give.
Girls follow; Women influence.

poem by Christina E. Brown
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Good Girl

I'll be a good girl
You will not have to worry about me
I will sing a sweet lullaby in your sleep
Even though the nightmare is
Creeping on the back of my mind

Because they always whisper to me

Good girls don't laugh hard
Good girls don't play heart
Good girls don't cry bad
Good girls don't show dark

Good girls don't taste devil
Good girls don't ring the bell
Good girls don't touch the hell
Good girls don't break the shell

I'll be your perfect girl
I will do as your loving little angel
I'll walk the path that you choose me to follow
Even though I want to run
I want to run beyond the sea

Because they always pushing me

Good girls don't make a mess
Good girls always do the best
Good girls don't kick hornet's nest
Good girls always take less rest

Good girls always tell the right
Good girls never need to hide
Good girls always shine and bright
Good girls never want anyone sad

I'll be your sweet girl
So you couldn't find a fault on me
You won't see a flaw from my dead body
Even though oh,
I'm twisted and rotten inside

Because they always preaching me

Good girls always keep promise
Good girls always loved to be kissed
Good girls always glow in breeze
Good girls always easy to be missed

Good girls always create a great ballad
Good girls always leave the jealous mad
Good girls always have a clear path
Good girls always be a strong impact

I'll be your only precious girl
There will be century ahead
Before you could throw me heartlessly
There will be ageless of wait
Before you could accuse me guilty

But they never satisfied and say

Good girls is merely an act
Good girls is only beautiful facade
Good girls save cruelty inside
Good girls could manipulate the fact

Good girls just looked innocence
Good girls never defeated in reason
Good girls secretly use their presence
Good girls always own the last person

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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~~I Hate You~

I hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you. i hate you. i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you. i hate you. i hate you. i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you. i hate you. i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you.i hate you. i hate you. i hate you. i hate you. i hate you. i hate you. i hate you.

I hate you when you don’t love me
I hate you when you don’t come home
I hate you when you hate me
I hate you when i see you kissing a girl

I’ve always hated you
You’ve broke my heart into little pieces
My life gets worse when I stay
My life gets worse when I drink
My life gets worse when you yell At Me
You’ve always think I was a piece of trash

I hate I hate you I hate you I hate I hate you I hate you I hate you
I hated you So Much!
Look up to your heart. you’ve always hurt me in public
I hated you when you drink
I hate you when I see you around with that Women of yours

It just makes me want to cry.
In the night I cry out loud for MY family, The Ones You’ve Cared And Loved So Much
Always making other decisions
Telling lies to Your family.
But Some Day You’ll Find Away To Get You And The Family Together.

poem by Sonya Wesley
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Reverse

Cherry, whipped cream
Chocolate sauce, ice cream

I can't enjoy it, I wish I could
But my body rejects the food

Fingers on my lips
Slim down my hips

I eat until I'm full
Show everyone I'm normal

Head bent over the bowl
No longer full

Back up in reverse
Wanting more, makes it worse

Ice cream, chocolate sauce
Whipped cream, cherry, food loss

poem by Brynn Fier
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Flightless Bird

My world is caged in,
I can not fly away,
I can not soar in the clouds,
With the wind and the angels.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.

I sit here day in and day out,
I watch so many people coming in and going out,
They stay here so happy so proud,
And they leave again without any care in the world.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.

I remember each face,
I remember them all saying hi waiting for a reply of hello,
They don’t understand how it feels,
They don’t understand what it’s like.
To be a flightless bird with clipped wings.

Wings tucked and head held high I sit here,
I wear a smile on my face and I keep myself beautiful and happy,
But inside all I can see are the bars that surround me,
I can’t get past them I can only sit.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.

My world is a room full of people myself the center of attention,
Although I should not complain for this is my life,
And I make them smile I make the children laugh and look in my eyes,
And sometimes they look into my eyes and see my world through my eyes.
They know I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.

They’ll stand and watch me as I walk around in my cage,
They’ll be there with me and try to understand.
Then they’ll have to leave and they’ll look over their shoulders.,
And they look into my eyes one last time,
Before they fly away into the world to bring back stories for the flightless bird with clipped wings,

They are my connection to the world,
They show me what they see through their eyes,
They show me wonders and beauties of a world I’ve never seen,
They are my window to the outside,
In their mind I can be a flightless bird in a world of wonder and of flight.

I am only a small bird in a cage that sits in a hotel,
Sits and watches as the world around me fly’s by,
I wait for the occasional stranger who looks into my eyes with knowing,
Maybe a person who is like me like a flightless bird in a cage,
They are my wings, the wings of a flightless bird who’s wings are clipped.

I sit in my own world and watch as it all moves by,
Day after day I watch and I say what is expected of me,
I sit in my world and I go on my own steady journey,
A journey in which I am a silent observer,
A flightless bird with clipped wings in a world of ever changing skies.

By: Bethany Maxwell

poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Hot Chocolate And Ice-Cream

My positive book says I’m free
and empowered, decided to test
their theory by ordering hot chocolate
and ice-cream, dipping the ice-cream
in the hot chocolate mixture – now the
cold doesn’t hurt my teeth; the liquid
is cooling down rapidly

Definitely makes me feel empowered,
free to create anything – though restaurant
food taste of rubber and plastic, I’m free not
to eat it – when hunger makes eating inevitable,
I simply fill up on ice-cream and chocolate;
I agree with their theory: I am
an empowered being!

poem by Margaret Alice
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Pretty boy hates every beautiful day

All the girls love him
All the guys wish to be like him
But pretty boy hates every beautiful day
Star of the baseball team
Captain of the football team
But pretty boy hates every beautiful day
Beautiful cheerleader girlfriend
Loved by all, hated by none
But pretty boy hates every beautiful day
Perfect looks
Perfect life
But pretty boy hates every beautiful day
Sometimes things in life aren't as good as they appear

poem by Jessica Canerday
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Haate

My voice hate you, hates you the way a child hates a bath
My muscles hate you
Every weight they lift is hate for you
My tears hate you
My guns hate you every shot is for you
My trumpet hates you every wrong note is for you
My grandma hates you
The needles in my arm on Fridays hate you
My Harleys rumble is hate for you
The stars in my eyes hate you
The superman sign on the board hates you
My cow boots hate you ever stomp they make is hate for you
My dancing hates you hates the way you look at me with your pretty blue eyes
My smile hates you
Have you ever wondered why the sun hides behind the clouds
It’s because of you
My toes hate you every time you step on them they scream at you
My books hate you the stories they hold are hate for you
My life hates you
My hate for you hates you
My love for you hates you

poem by Kaddie Jo Sigman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Thin Air

On the last time youve got your new parachutes, or a new
bike or new clothes or something. Sometimes you got
something new you just, you cant wait to... to use it.
So were ... are gonna try a couple... At least one new song.
Yeh, we cant wait to try it out, so. Another for you.
There's a light, when my baby's in my arms
There's a light, when the window shades are drawn
Hesitate when I feel I may do harm to her
Wash it off cause this feeling we can share
And I know she's reached my heart in thin air.
Byzantine is reflected in our pond
There's a cloud, but the water remains calm
Reaching in the suns fingers clutch the dawn to pass
Even out, it's a precious thing to bear
And I know she's reached my heart in thin air
Yes, I know she's reached my heart in thin air
It's not in my past to presume
Love can keep on moving in both directions
How to be happy and true
Is the quest we're taking on together
Take it on, on, on, on, on
Take it on, on, on, on, on...
There's a light when my baby's in my arms
And I know she's reached my heart in thin air
And I know she's reached my heart in thin air
And I know she's reached my heart in thin air
Yes, I know she's reached my heart

song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Loved Me; I Loved Her Not

She was not the prettiest flower in the bouquet
but she had a perfumed heart

which shone through in a radiant smile and gentle nature;
she loved me dearly.

I, I awakened to puberty blinded by blond curls
and cheerleader bodies

and to those nasty girls
who flirted with my hormones
shaking me into the boy-way and impure thoughts;

sometimes at the wrong time
as the girls filed by us boys
we both on our
way to the gym and my embarrassment.

Where sometimes I had to skip gym and make excuses.
Audrey watched from afar;

I was not so much oblivious of how she felt
and I felt she was nice but, too nice

to be despoiled by what I wanted from girls
I wanted the fast girls because fast knows fast

and I was definitely fast in my sloppy jeans.

So like attracted like.

Like bears and honey

And like bears and honey

I didn't care if I got stung
I wanted honey.

Every boy in my school wanted the same three girls;

every girl in my school wanted the same three boys

the rest of us were bystanders, spectators and critics

to scenes we were not part of

not even able to offer solace to others like ourselves because

to be in the not-popular group was to be a social failure;

and who wants to associate with social failures-
no one that's who.

Being seen together

only drew attention to your failed status in life.

No one wants that right?

Audrey stood by watching me hunger for the popular girls

particularly Carly
who was my female succubus,

who could arouse in me
such that at times I dared not stand up.

Carly was the one who knew how to flirt

how to move my hormones with just a glance;

how to flip her hair

how to bend over to pick up that mythical pencil

how to always look available

whether she had a boyfriend or not

how to perform in lunch-room theater

scenes of a princess eating

several kinds of food stuffs from soup to hotdogs,

to ice cream cones

which drove the boys crazy

where Life would stand still for the boys and the girls
and also for some male faculty members
who too would
become frozen in time
whenever Carly, took up her comestibles.

The girls watched too angry-eager to learn how to imitate
-envious critical condemning, castigating
totally in awe of what Carly could do to boys.

She had the gift of innocent sexuality,
no better, the gift of a innocent playful sexuality
naughty but not seedy,
a young girl in a woman's body,
natural senuous movements which gave promise
of her inner woman to be.

She was of course learning of her ability
to attract boys and men
but her learning was so public
and she learned to accommodate the stares and
mini-hatreds and lusts of others
on the stage she had placed upon
which made her internal development public out of necessity.

She was used to all eyes upon her.

And even then I realized that Carly was also a symbol of how everything and anything could be given a sexual interpretation
not only by us boys, but the girls as well
and as well by the adults,
some of whom hated Carly's natural sexuality
and other adults there
who hated her
and that very same sexuality
as a sign of the devils work
or worse,
made them feel that sexuality
against their will-same as the young boys.

No one it seemed was immune
from the powerful pull of Carly's natural sexuality.

Carly lived in the middle of this maelstrom.

I found Audrey one Friday
(Carly and her popular group came to the cafeteria
only on Fridays,
hence her appearances were extra special
to all concerned
since they were not frequent.)

One day, as I was saying,
I saw Audrey outside the cafeteria
and the moment her eyes met mine

she started to cry.

Not understanding
I asked her what was the matter.

'Nothing.' she said turning away
but that was the first day I started to see her

as a real person,
not a girlfriend mind you
rather I started to see her as a comrade in suffering.

I vowed to ask her who she was in love with
assuming she shared my predicament.

And I thought we could help each other.

I thought I would call her.

Without further words Audrey walked away
humiliated but happy so happy that I had noticed her.

She vowed that she would fight for me

she would walk up to me in the school corridor
and kiss me on the cheek;
that is what she would do
to make me understand how she felt about me.

To make me see that she was the one
who loved me

that really understood me.

That is what she decided to do

That night she planned it out:

Lip gloss, short skirt, tight top,
she would be a new Audrey and get my attention

and make me forget the nasty girls.

To be continued

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Phat

The word 'fat' is a term,
That 'skinny people' use,
Because they don't know what else to say,
When they see a 'fat person.'

No one has to be so rude about it,
When they see a 'fat person' eating ice cream,
Or sitting around watching others,
But some 'skinny people' don't understand to just dropp a conversation.

The word 'rude' is what 'fat people' use when someone makes fun of them,
'Fat people' are all over the world,
And yet - 'skinny people' don't want to accept the fact that 'fat people' are in this cruel world,
So some 'skinny people' have to act like they're all that and be mean to others.

There are people in this world that are 'low class' and are different from the people in the 'higher class, '
Because some people in the 'lower class' goes into depression and eat,
Because of the events happening in their life,
And so they become 'fat.'

But what 'skinny people' explain,
Is that they are slobs and can't eat normal instead of shoving food down their throat,
But what 'fat people' explain,
Is that they try to lose weight, but some of them can't because it's hard.

'Skinny people' make fun of them and 'fat people' let them,
Because some 'skinny people' don't know how it feels like to be 'fat, '
And some 'skinny people' call 'fat people' ugly and of course 'fat, '
But what 'skinny people' don't know is that we all are phat.

poem by Alicia Meyers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am The Pretty Girl-Chapter Two

By junior year I was feeling pretty lonely
and I went to this party
where all the pretty girls go
so I had to go and everything
there were boys there from the college.
boys I didn't see very often
mature boys
and I was curious
especially about the one named Josh;
he seemed nice
I had watched him from the time I arrived.
but more important
he seemed to have confidence about himself
in a way I wished I had confidence in my self.
I openly looked at him
caught his eye
letting him know girl-way
I liked him
miracle of all miracles he understood my look-
closed his eyes and started across the room toward me
a gentle smile on his face, growing as he drew near.

I was thrilled as I felt him before he even got close to me,
he had something which made me feel weak
a bit frightened but very excited.

Directly in front of me now
I gave him my blank stare
as he towered above me
and I
suddenly realizing
that all eyes were upon us.

To have a college boy interested in you
was the height
the room stood still
as he pivoted to stand
beside me
like we already knew
each other and everything
I could hear little gasps of surprise because
my girls friends thought that we
somehow
did know each other.

He stood there beside me
watching everyone in the room watch us
then he took my hand
slowly into his,
a soft touch,
just a soft touch
not an aggressive touch
and whispered
'Act casual and we can just cruise on out of here
You go first-I will cover you.'

He made me laugh and in that moment I relaxed.
Josh had the ability to make me laugh from the very start.

I took his hand and led him toward a side door
into what was a small garden
with sliding glass doors
so everyone could see us
but not hear us.
I was so relieved to be out of there
and he was too I guess.
He chuckled,
still holding my hand
finally saying;
'I am never going to let go of your hand
ever.'

I looked at him sideways
and he burst out laughing
'Well I will let go sometime
but not before you give me
one of your beautiful smiles.'

Involuntarily I did give him a big smile-
he made me smile,
and then with that smile still on my face
he slowly took his hand from mine
and placed his finger tips on my lips.

The entire room behind those glass doors
gave a hushed gasp
I could almost hear;
from my corner eye
I could see
see heads swirling
as people did double-takes
looking at us.
Then for the first time
in a long time
I felt like the pretty girl
a real pretty girl
thinking if Josh was
or was not going to be the one
to whom I would lose my virginity to.

The thought made me blush.

To be Continued

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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