Soliloquies for Sorrow (aka i got bloggy, YAY!)

I probably said I would never write poetry in this blog. Poetry is for English Majors, depressed tweenage girls who think they are too ugly/fat to find a prom date, and e e cummings (whose poetry is actually good). I changed my mind…this is now a poetry blog! I am going to write “bloody awful poetry” (smiths reference in there for ye smith fans, yes, yes?). I will share my feelings of angst, woe, and dissallusionment. You’ll laugh, cry, and foul your nappies. Now for today’s poetically sound piece of literary wonder…penned by yours TRULY…

Roses are Red
Violets are Crappy
Hope your Valentine’s Day…
is really FUCKING happy!

Weep with joy and make me the poet laureate! Kiss my grits, Walt Whitman! Tomorrow I will was philosophical about low-carb garlic cheese bread. It’s a metaphor. You wouldn’t understand my SORROW…

Note to Self: Yeah, I wrote stupid, inane teenage girl poetry, when I was a stupid inane teenage girl. All teenage girls who write poetry liken themselves to Sylvia Plath, sans suicide. If I ever started a poetry blog, or even a blog of serious thoughts, I’d have the Colonel bitch-slap me. Aint neva’ goin’ happen, ya hear? Amen. Happy Valentines Day Colonel Kurtz. I know you are going to read this after I leave. I love you you goddamn biscuit head…