Why I want to be a Dog (A Poem)

Envious of dogs.
They do not have to worry about
Religion, philosophy and thought.
They don't have to fight the battles,
Put out by the ill-witted
of most
Humans.
They get attention by many.
It is not odd for them to approach other people.
No customs, no conformity.
Just sniffing privates
and moseying around.

I used to hate the domestication of anything.
We removed their freedom.
But they are blind to it,
so does it matter?
Ethics.
Just another thing that doesn't matter to dogs.

If I were a dog I wouldn't have to deal with stupidity,
With annoyances and with society.
Life would be filled with attention,
confidence, praise, free food, a home.
No difficult decisions or failures.

I doubt it does,
but If reincarnation exists
I would want to be a dog,
or nothing.
As long as I'm not a male
Because fixation and castration
Are not days I want to experience. 

Grass over Walls (Poem on growing up)

Cyclopean walls enclose life.

Only socks and underwear are the attire.

I hate my stomach.

When did I lose my abs?

I am only 17.

Time goes by.

Soon my room will be 5 hours away.

It will not miss me;

I will barely miss it.

But I will miss my abs.

Youth is like grass that has grown far too tall,
it must be snipped,
groomed,
tastefully and not pruned (the pruning can wait).
The grass goes through its seasons
changing constantly,
With or without the consent of nature.
Nature forces it to grow,
it is inevitable.
But sometimes it has to grow on its own,
without nature.

A choice the grass makes? Or do the cells?
Those little tiny things that somehow make us, us.

'What is the time of societal growth into adulthood?' asks the sociologist.
Time really only does exist in the mind of the society, right?

The tattoo of the clock onto society,
How foolish of us.
Why does the darkness of the earth tell us it is time to sleep?
Maybe it is time to dance,
or cry, shout, wash the dishes, if one needs.
Why does the light need to tell us to work tirelessly?
Maybe it is time to write,
or ski, sleep, bathe, if one needs.

Let our watches not reflect the sky.
Let our watches reflect our bodies' desires.

Desires?
I am only 17.
s   t   i   l   l
   o   n   l   y
      1   7

I have lived more than the average 17 year old.
I suppose that is my perspective;
Much like society's perspective of time.


No longer will these cyclopean walls entrap me.
Soon I will be gone.
My grass will grow beyond what the seasons allow,
Without being mowed.
It will grow over the cyclopean walls,
The roots of the grass are to be:
p   u   l   l   e  d, snipped and ripped
out of the previous earth,
to enter the new parts.

The growth will happen in time.
Time is soon.
True age does not matter, only earth's age.
Society's age.
Time is soon.
Waiting.
Waiting to be 18.

An adult.
A qualified adult. Legal.
I was an adult years ago.
But nobody knew.
Society has to snip the ends of the grass,
and refuses to recognize if I already have.

____________s_i_d_e___n_o_t_e________________

I am just playing around with poetry.
Do not fuss.
I am not a poet.
Just a person with thoughts.
A person with thoughts who likes to write them
out
on
different
lines.
Because somehow,
that makes them more
i m p o r t a n t.

Letting go of smother (poem)

“Letting go doesn't mean that you don't care about someone anymore. It's just realizing that the only person you really have control over is yourself.”

― Deborah Reber

Your child is going off into the world,
let go.
The hardest part is to come,
The hard work is done.
Nature shows us the natural ability to let go.
Trees change, birds part, grass grows;
Life goes on.
Just let go.

My mother is having the hardest time letting go of me.
I push her away and she just will not leave me be.

This is harder for me than the average person.
She is a single mother of one;
I am her only child.
She has no husband to go back to,
No younger child to pester,
nothing.

People always say that you will want to go back to visit;
I refuse to be apart of the boomerang generation.

I do not want to live in this house.

This is not my house, this is her house. I am a guest here now, even though I haven't left.

I do not need someone hovering over me and telling me
"Do not buy a car, you can not afford it!"
"Do not go out into the dark!"
"Wash the dishes!"
 I need someone to                                   l       e      t                    g      o

Let me make my own mistakes.

Let me go.
I am not yours;
I was never yours.

I was never yours.
You gave me life but you do not own me.
I am not your sim that you can use in real life.

I have my own thoughts which are completely different from yours.

You are theist, 

I am atheist.

You are frugal,

I am not.

You are old,

I am not.

You are spiritual,

I am not.

You are uneducated,

I am not.

But the thing is, I was born in October 1995. 

I am not 18 until the end of October.

Not a legal adult? The law should not matter.

She thinks since I am not legal,

she can still be able to dictate my life.

From 5 hours away.

Your essence is not even of a mother.

It is of a daughter,

telling her elderly mother to stay away from danger.

I say 'I know what I am doing'

But my mother-daughter doesn't trust me.

No trust. 

The last time I needed someone out of my life was 2011.

The 'friend' who just had to end.

But 'mother' has no end. 

But with an 's' it could be smother.

No carnations for the smother.

No letters.

Sometimes letting go requires a push.

I just hope it is not me pushing myself

at the edge.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

I am going to university this fall and my mother is having the hardest time not comprehending that she does not control me. 

Fuck me

Hello there cliff. You're looking pretty sexy at this point in time.