life
life
is hard, and I don’t blame
anyone but mybigbuttlard.
I’m the dirty something,
still to discover the meaning
behind stained glass windows.
The sun comes. I stare.
No conclusion why light hits.
There are gold and purple lines
on my white inside outs and my
chapped lips make an upside pout
I found the blue button in my stout.
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About
I am a poet. I am a mother. I am a someone’s wife. I cannot stop writing. I have tried. This is very anti-progressive of me. I will apologize later to my chive plant.
I work at writing but it is not what I call hard. I am a natural. But I don’t just write down whatever and call it something. No. I have pride. I have standards.
I am political and I am popping jokes. They are subtle, often times overlooked, but if you find yourself laughing or crying, you can bet, I’m glad I could assist, reach a dead metaphor out to you.
If you like my words, my poems, share them, print them off. Tape them up. Let me know. If I make a mistake, let me know about that too.
I am trying to be the best piece of U.S.A that I can be. Poetry is my way. Its not medicine and it is not an organic lunch. My poems are hard to swallow. If I offend you, you can bet I am happy about that too, because that means your alive enough and thinking enough to respond. You probably just missed the joke. ( I don’t know anymore than the fools who keep selling out our country or the great ramblers of the past. I don’t know a thing, and my friend, hahahahahahaha neither do you).
I am not a master of poesy. I am twenty-eight. I am a burp. Remember that, remember I am a fool. I am like you.
If you are a writer as well please feel free. Share your lines and advice.
Sometimes people think I am a good writer, and they believe that I have a good sized ego. That is not the case. It is far to big and it thinks it is a bunny. I am sorry for any claptrap or bloated dogs it tries to sell you. I work endlessly at my lines, and want those who I share my life-art to be just as passionate and as eager as me.
I love writing. It is my family history, it began before I had a name. Maybe I was hurt into it. Maybe I hurt easy. Maybe thats why I can’t stop.
I know I won’t even think about it until justice is in the reality of every molecule.
You need someone to write love poems. I know you do. You’re begging for someone just to care, just to give a damn and love.
My poetry is for you.
It is for the lot of you who suffer or love.
It is a reminder to you, that we are in this together and we are alive.
So lets party.
I am nothing but a solitary grain of sand
but with you, I am beach.
(I will keep at least my swimsuit on, no porno here). Who doesn’t love a beach party?
If you would like me to read at a poetry reading email me at a_burie@hotmail.com.
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