BEFUDDLED

IT’S MY LIFE.

I THINK…

What do you say when you are asked to choose your vacation in life based on a few numbers school teachers gave you for reasons you don’t remember?

How do you feel when your entire personality is represented by a couple of categories made by marketers of a social networking site?

Why are there experts to tell you what you were really thinking and how you really feel in AC clinics with leather couches?

Why are cola companies trying to dictate how wild, cool or spunky you should behave?

Why does Levi’s try so hard to make my bum look perky?

So many unanswered questions and there’s one more.. do we ever really think for ourselves?

the inspiration to my prose
the subject of my rhymes
recollections in writing for those
many magical moments and times

we wrote poetry with our kisses.
or if hugs could sing out loud
double last names with a prefixed mrs
address it to number nine/cloud

how you looked at me n i felt faint
then you asked me if i was anaemic
and in british accent i replied that “i aint.”
just a tad flushed, blushed and a little pathetic.

Love!!!! the kind that makes magic.
that makes hard men cry
written by shakespear however tragic
that you cant fake but heck! you can try

that makes girls with black nailpolish sappy
and think about words that rhyme with love
though its lame shes happy to be happy
and the word jay sean uses is usually “above”

the man with the one syllable vocab
yet he writes better dance tracks
one day i ll be bling,slim and fab
till then i ll jsut avoid wearing tights and slacks.