" Love."
By: Beau Sia
I think love
is the most beautiful thing
in the world
and I don't give a fuck,
because I have no original ideas.
I'm a pathetic man
whose goal is to read poetry
to get women
to fall in love with him,
and you'd think I was reprimanding myself
and revealing my horrible dark side
by saying that,
but I was really saying,
"women who hear this, fall in love with me,
or else."
because that's what it comes down to-
an ultimatum,
life or death,
and sure,
maybe I'm being extreme,
but you tell me that things aren't extreme.
jesus,
I've seen a man jack-off to a gap window display,
so don't tell me
that love isn't important.
and maybe you don't get me yet,
that's okay,
you don't have to understand all of it,
just listen to the crucial 12 percent of my words,
like,
"fuck," and "ass," and
"ride my dongstick you naughty schoolgirl!"
because in a poem about love
we all need to know
the relevant things,
because we are all looking
for the complete definition
of love,
if only we could open up
our encyclopedia brittanicas
and know,
but love isn't that easy.
they say cupid loved freaks and geeks,
and when the show was cancelled
cupid cried and cried and cried
and decided that he was gonna fuck up
all of humanity,
and this is why china has trouble
with its birthrate,
and arkansas ryhmes with date rape,
and the fat lypo-sucked out of california
could be its own island,
but this isn't a poem about geography.
this is a poem about love,
the bane of my existence,
the reason why I hate valentine's day
and halloween,
which is about ghosts,
and I think you know where I'm going here.
I'm going to the land of
girlfriends of halloween's pasts,
and maybe I've only got three girls
in this land,
but that doesn't mean they don't bring their
friends,
who are the ghosts of girls
who have rejected me,
because girls rarely travel alone
in this land,
lydia is from this land.
I used to kiss her
while listening to the cure's
"just like heaven."
now I don't see her anymore,
so that song makes me sad.
why must we associate music
with our love lives?
I'm not trying to be profound here,
I'm just saying that
music takes me back,
way back,
and I can't explain the memory process involved
in that,
because I wasn't a psychology major,
and maybe my problem
with picking up women
has to do with me always asking them,
"yo, shorty! what's your major?"
but that only makes me as cheesy as 90 percent
of guys looking for women
and 72 percent of them have women,
so what's the deal here?
Maybe I shouldn't think of women
in terms of picking them up,
and maybe I should open up my sensitive side.
but really,
the sensitive side sucks!
I've been there!
you can only imagine
the kinds of sweaters they make you wear!
it's not fair.
love is not fair,
and war is not fair,
and I don't care what you say
about any of that,
I feel unloved.
I'm sorry I need people to tell me I'm cool.
I'm just that way.
aren't you?
am I the only one?
I know that I can't be that misunderstood,
but you don't want to understand me.
you just want to hear the part
about my small dick again,
because the asian man
will always be plagued by
this rumor,
until he is brave enough to whip it out on stage
and say,
"ha! we are gigantic!"
honestly,
this is not
the direction
I wanted to take this poem.
I just want to be in the arms of my true love,
in a house, in a room, in a wonderful,
perfect world,
with our two children, a boy and a girl,
helga and lamar.
but maybe I shouldn't have said this.
woody allen taught as that marriage
is the death trap.
I'm almost as old as his girlfriend.
she could be the long lost sister
I've been looking for.
maybe my mother gave her away
when we lived in china-
wait!
I never lived in china.
I've begun lying in this poem,
when all I wanted to do
was talk about love
for 3.2 minutes
and then come to a conclusion
defining love
within this poem,
but I don't have any answers,
and I'm looking for help from anyone,
because love
has got me fucked up and dying,
because I feel retardo
without anyone to hold me,
and maybe that's sentimental,
but what's wrong with sentimental?
all I'm saying is
"someone. love me."
So, today was good fun with leah,
tomorrow should be good fun with the getting passed around yo,
haha,
I love kati,
she randomly followed me home yesterday,
which was too cool!
IIIII LOOOOOVVVVEEEEE YYYYOOOUUUUU KAAAATTTTIIIII!!!!
everyone go to caitlin's thing!
or else!!!!!!!!!
- the now declared emo by leah jessica
:'(
I think love
is the most beautiful thing
in the world
and I don't give a fuck,
because I have no original ideas.
I'm a pathetic man
whose goal is to read poetry
to get women
to fall in love with him,
and you'd think I was reprimanding myself
and revealing my horrible dark side
by saying that,
but I was really saying,
"women who hear this, fall in love with me,
or else."
because that's what it comes down to-
an ultimatum,
life or death,
and sure,
maybe I'm being extreme,
but you tell me that things aren't extreme.
jesus,
I've seen a man jack-off to a gap window display,
so don't tell me
that love isn't important.
and maybe you don't get me yet,
that's okay,
you don't have to understand all of it,
just listen to the crucial 12 percent of my words,
like,
"fuck," and "ass," and
"ride my dongstick you naughty schoolgirl!"
because in a poem about love
we all need to know
the relevant things,
because we are all looking
for the complete definition
of love,
if only we could open up
our encyclopedia brittanicas
and know,
but love isn't that easy.
they say cupid loved freaks and geeks,
and when the show was cancelled
cupid cried and cried and cried
and decided that he was gonna fuck up
all of humanity,
and this is why china has trouble
with its birthrate,
and arkansas ryhmes with date rape,
and the fat lypo-sucked out of california
could be its own island,
but this isn't a poem about geography.
this is a poem about love,
the bane of my existence,
the reason why I hate valentine's day
and halloween,
which is about ghosts,
and I think you know where I'm going here.
I'm going to the land of
girlfriends of halloween's pasts,
and maybe I've only got three girls
in this land,
but that doesn't mean they don't bring their
friends,
who are the ghosts of girls
who have rejected me,
because girls rarely travel alone
in this land,
lydia is from this land.
I used to kiss her
while listening to the cure's
"just like heaven."
now I don't see her anymore,
so that song makes me sad.
why must we associate music
with our love lives?
I'm not trying to be profound here,
I'm just saying that
music takes me back,
way back,
and I can't explain the memory process involved
in that,
because I wasn't a psychology major,
and maybe my problem
with picking up women
has to do with me always asking them,
"yo, shorty! what's your major?"
but that only makes me as cheesy as 90 percent
of guys looking for women
and 72 percent of them have women,
so what's the deal here?
Maybe I shouldn't think of women
in terms of picking them up,
and maybe I should open up my sensitive side.
but really,
the sensitive side sucks!
I've been there!
you can only imagine
the kinds of sweaters they make you wear!
it's not fair.
love is not fair,
and war is not fair,
and I don't care what you say
about any of that,
I feel unloved.
I'm sorry I need people to tell me I'm cool.
I'm just that way.
aren't you?
am I the only one?
I know that I can't be that misunderstood,
but you don't want to understand me.
you just want to hear the part
about my small dick again,
because the asian man
will always be plagued by
this rumor,
until he is brave enough to whip it out on stage
and say,
"ha! we are gigantic!"
honestly,
this is not
the direction
I wanted to take this poem.
I just want to be in the arms of my true love,
in a house, in a room, in a wonderful,
perfect world,
with our two children, a boy and a girl,
helga and lamar.
but maybe I shouldn't have said this.
woody allen taught as that marriage
is the death trap.
I'm almost as old as his girlfriend.
she could be the long lost sister
I've been looking for.
maybe my mother gave her away
when we lived in china-
wait!
I never lived in china.
I've begun lying in this poem,
when all I wanted to do
was talk about love
for 3.2 minutes
and then come to a conclusion
defining love
within this poem,
but I don't have any answers,
and I'm looking for help from anyone,
because love
has got me fucked up and dying,
because I feel retardo
without anyone to hold me,
and maybe that's sentimental,
but what's wrong with sentimental?
all I'm saying is
"someone. love me."
So, today was good fun with leah,
tomorrow should be good fun with the getting passed around yo,
haha,
I love kati,
she randomly followed me home yesterday,
which was too cool!
IIIII LOOOOOVVVVEEEEE YYYYOOOUUUUU KAAAATTTTIIIII!!!!
everyone go to caitlin's thing!
or else!!!!!!!!!
- the now declared emo by leah jessica
:'(