Too spontaneously lazy for a novel (as of right now) and just enough narcissim for a blog. The reason for a tired mind and active soul. If you'd like to be plagued with my "inspirational" thoughts and give my ego a deep tissue massage...you're in the right place...follow me...and indulge...
Monday, November 22, 2010
Ban on B.A.N. (Bitch Ass Nikkuhs)
Gents, it seems that bitchassdedness has become an epidemic
Please stop frontin like you're the owner of a brand new pair of vaginal lips
afraid to approach a female who can outsmart you in a battle of wits
afraid to put pride aside...
afraid to admit...
let alone ever understanding how to initiate a conversation with a clit...
Are you seriously crying on the internet???...that's not even deemable to be called a tiff
You really should take boxing lessons
cause a mouth that loose calls for a busted lip
No, but really, you got beef on the web??...
Go thump in the street and get your teeth knocked out instead
Now maybe you won't talk so much...get a full time job
exercisin' those gums and jaw
slobbin up some nob
while rockin ya bitches a-cup braw
You...Batman?....helllll nah
Not even Robin,
cause even with your effeminate desires of pressin' up on 'bad' guys with that tightass suit on your skin...
your 'nots' must be tucked...or be a small fit
since they stillllll ain't poppin'
So yes, men, afraid of your own semen,
please go to a gay club with all those unnecessary excuses to act so damn feminine...
Apologies in advance to the 'straight' men who secretly are less suited to strut and more to prance
You know you're an STD dumpster slut…stop worrying about her past
We know what's up...
you got leprechaun meets infant meets midget hands...
Stop braggin' about how many bitches you got tryin' to get in your pants...
be more concerned with a need to socially advance
and knowing how to hold down an income, a home, and a mindfulness of future plans
a desire to truly know yourself...understand
Shit, you're 30 and live at home with your momma
TRUST...you are NOT THE MAN
Actually, with the amount of time you spend in the mirror
I'm surprised you don't practice a Zoolander glance
and that little 2-step dance...
so you can make sure you got your angle right and get on your
"I'm a peacock, please, please, pleaaaaase other dudes in the club, please notice me"
stance...
Your fear of self and emotional acknowledgment
is just a pathetic excuse to inflict,
words rooted in insecure rhetoric
I mean really, so quick to diss, so quick to knit pick
Is this all just a mask to hide your man boobs turned double d tits??
She's too intimidating, she'll break your heart??
Stop using that lame ass excuse to always be the one to inflict the scars...
You fuck with hoes, chickenheads ad grimey bitches,
but technically,
you're their penile equivalent
Silly bird, you're a dude more insecure with mommy issues
than a 15 year old pregnant chick
who dreams of trickin' for a livin'
Someone in your past hurt you so it justifies your current state of being a prick...
I'm tired of the excuses...
Get the fuck over it.
Oh, and while you're at it, you might wanna spit
but be careful before you get his cum stains on your girl's brand new carpet, since she'll surely trip
And while you're at it
Get some lotion on those knees so the rug burn doesn't stick
Men, no emotion?
They don't voice their feelings?
They don't have time to understand love and devotion?
You're in a delusion
grow up and move past it, understand that you're human
Now you might be able to truly materialize your vision
Once you accept that, you'll be more than a man
Until then I have no patience for your over-hyped self-perceptions...
and needs to wallow in sado-masochistic rituals
of female deprecia-tion
She thinks differently, that's a problem??
She's too outspoken??...c'mon son
Your penis is shrinking and your balls are gonna be too small to dot the question mark that is
your constant erectile dysfunction
And of course I can demoralize your image by attacking your phallic self-obsession
Your self-esteem is frail
Forget about the fact that intellectually
your softer than a baby's bottom
Gossip, talk shit, we fucked??...
That's funny considering we've never even hung out, hugged or touched...
let alone kiss...
anyway, I understand...
We could never in real life cause you're probably too paranoid about having a little dick complex
Please, I know you truly wish that you could imaginatively enhance the girth of your 'magic stick'...
Hold up...
Exactly...
It's magic...poof, where'd it go…What happened to it??
So with that, seriously, although I know you're envious,
back the fuck off....
and reeeeeally, hop off myyyyyy dick.
- © 2010 by Jessica Freites
Friday, November 5, 2010
Love and Light...
Love and Light...
unconditionally bright, despite pitfall plights lurking in the most silent darkness of nights, alone, you stand and grow to exponential heights, towering over gray clouds that hover tears overlooking the moon, rising over redwoods and beanstalks in bloom, all with the intention of a child in womb...all with the ascension of rapture spawned out of doom...in the hours where the right and the wrong seem to dance along to a song that's nothing more then penned tragedies, blessings forgone, this ballad is nothing more than a madness psalm, a song sung by madmen, for ages unknown and you're ready to retire as lead in this tune...but all is really more than right because you're still in it, still in the fight, round 12 has approached and your opponent is withered of pride, the swiftness of his strength no longer has you mesmerized, you've managed somehow to hollow the evils inside, his black breath is weak, in dying whispers it begs for reprise, his left hook is shot, his right couldn't make even an infant cry, as he is consumed by the light, he falls to his knees, battered blood pools vanish into nothing more than dust, 'victory' is painted along the tattered canvas, bearing reproach on past visions, obstructions in sight, your opponent was no opponent at all just a mindful eye, a spectator, to witness the winning match of I against I.
- © 2010 by Jessica Freites