Tag Archives: Individuality

A Universal Symbol Of Me

I wanted to get a tattoo

Of something that was always true

To remind myself by simple sight

Of something that is always right.

I thought of words, but words can change

Like “queer” no longer meaning strange

And alphabets can change a lot…

“So much for a tattoo”, I thought

But what about a picture that

Reflects the world and where I’m at?

A picture that will grow with me

No matter who I grow to be?

I used to love a Pokemon

But my favorite one keeps moving on.

I used to think that I was wise

But what I knew were often lies.

I used to be a man of God

But now I find the Bible odd.

And then, at once, it came to me!

An image only I could see

That would grow and change as I

Would grow and change and smile and sigh:

My skin, unchanged except by age,

My empty slate, my blank white page.

I’ll know, I know, I knew I’d see

I need no mark to just be me.

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My Angsty Years

Somewhere around fifth grade

I asked myself why

I should work to make money

‘Til I get sick and die.

So I sought counter-culture,

Tried to listen to rap

But found “counter-culture”

Espoused the same crap.

Fight club was edgy

But I don’t like fighting.

MGTOW was compelling

But I’m fond of white-knighting.

So here I was, trapped

Between primness and zeal

Before I found out

That’s what most people feel.

The thug life chose me

But because I abhor it

I friend-zoned the thug life

And we’re both better for it.

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Inside The Box

Trent had spiky auburn hair
Which was never out of place.
Wendell’s hair was a dangly mess
That covered up his face.

Both applied at Microsoft,
But neither got the job.
They lost it to a hairless guy
Whose name, they thought, was Bob.

So both the men, despairing,
Did shave their separate locks,
For to get employment
They needed to think inside the box.

Trent and Wendell reapplied
And once again they were denied,
For most folks care what’s in your head,
Not on it. Or so to believe I’m led.

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Born This Way

You’ve probably seen a zebra,
That pretty, stripy horse,
And you probably know a pinto
And a black stallion of course.

And lots of horses have little marks
That make them look real rad,
But no one loves me, for I’m a horse
Who was born in neon plaid.

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