What I Say -- Unicorn

[ Show ]

Support VoyForums

[ Shrink ]

VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, [2], 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 21:29:08 09/18/03 Thu
Author: Gray Squirrel
Author Host/IP: 0-1pool20-159.nas49.stockton1.ca.us.da.qwest.net / 65.147.20.159
Subject: What I Say

What I Say

I would rather be writing about flowers.

I love flowers.
I'm a man,
I'm not gay,
I'm not a wimp,
But I won't prove it.
Deal with it.

Flowers are beautiful.

And I hate the word "wimp".
So what.

I would rather write something beautiful.

I love waterfalls,
Love oceans,
Love clouds,
Love stars,
Love trees...
Yeah, trees...
Fuck you.

Maybe that's not fair.
If you are reading this,
You are probably a poet,
And if you're a poet,
You're more likely
To love trees.

How do I know that?
Just guessing...
But most people aren't poets.
They are, but won't admit it,
And don't admit it on purpose.
That's what I mean,
I'm talking to them,
But they won't read this.

So I've written about love.

I love one woman.
I love several women,
But I love one woman.
No one likes that,
Especially them,
Especially me,
Especially her.

There isn't one definition of love,
Despite the dictionary,
Nor are there two definitions,
Nor ten, nor one thousand
Definitions of love.

You can't just take a definition and say
Her more, and her almost, and her
Sorta like that, and her maybe some...
You can, I mean I have and I did,
But it meant something else,
It wasn't about love, it was
About pieces of my soul.

Maybe you don't get that,
Even if you're a poet.
Maybe I don't get that.
I can't help it.
It's not my fault,
And this isn't about that.

She's playing games with me,
Intellectual games and
Games of emotion,
But she doesn't call them games,
And if she did, she wouldn't mean it,
And reading this, she won't like it.
But I can't help it.
Maybe I'll stop saying that.

Why, if I love her,
Would I write something
She doesn't like?
This is how I talk,
This is how I live,
This is how I make things clear,
By talking to myself here,
Where you are reading it,
Though most of you won't.
I already discussed that.
I love flowers, so what?

I don't know why,
But I think this,
Why not say it?

Not a good answer,
I can't explain it, then,
Just let me write the
Damn poem...

I want to talk about the game,
The game not admitted,
The one I shouldn't mention...
I want to figure it out,
And want to say it,
Even if I haven't,
Even if I'm completely
Wrong.

I love her, only...
I miss her,
I hate this game.

She says something,
Then denies it,
Says I called it something,
And I didn't...
Says I don't know her,
Or, I mean she wonders
How I could think what I think
If I did
Know her.

It's not on paper,
But may as well be,
Because it is on
Black pixels on
A white screen, and
That looks like
Typing on paper.

I don't have to remember,
It's written there where
I can see it, she
Can see it,
So I don't get it.

I think it's a game then,
Not a game about
Words here,
But a game about
Something else
Left unsaid.
But she won't say it.

And that leaves me,
Like the unfortunate reader here,
Feeling cheated.

-Gray Squirrel

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]