BOO!

Happy Halloween!

Semi-automatic, or rifle that’s the question.

Which gun would he want if I were gonna bash his head in?

I would never shoot him, it would be too easy.

I would never shoot him, my hands would get too greasy.

My aim would be real bad, my heart would start to scream

That I’d completely lost my mind, that my brain was now whipped cream.

So I’d wham him with the gun until he was good and dead

And I’d gaze upon my masterpiece of his erupted pumpkin head.

Cause really what the difference? Really, what’s the need,

For his head to stay around? I want a pumpkin seed.

dirty 2: um...romantic?

be careful., I think, don’t breath just now, cause I might control your skin.

We’ve got that silly more than magnetism that pulls you from within.

I think I breathed you in long before I saw your face,

And this sensational sensation redefined my sense of grace.

I want to see right through you, then show you where I hid my key.

But the silence grows between us and I feel the need to flee.

I imagine all the outcomes, the future all or nothing...

and neither are that splendid cause they’re not right now, they’re coming.

And it’s a crescendo of ridiculous that I’d have this kind of luck,

that I’ve finally found my soulmate on a stupid random midnight fuck.

extraordinary happy-fying juxtaposition. get's a 'yay!' on the dani meter. (when one sees something and its very sight elicits a joyful uninhibited immediate 'yay!') pic has nothing to do with poem above other than it's totally me.  shoulda put it with the ice cream poem. doh.

PS: possible titles: 

"oops," 

"best. orgasm. ever.,"

"when you know, you know," 

"lust rules," 

"Um, so...I really think i want your number...and maybe for you to meet my mom."

ah me...

la loca perfecta

OH I HATE THAT I’M CRAZY, and love that I’m insane…

It seems to give me satisfaction. It’s my intrinsic ball and chain.

It’s what people love me for and why they think I’m dumb.

It’s why those who get to know me can’t fathom I succomb...

To my feeble insecurities, to my petty neurotic brain,

To the societal banalities, that mediocrity refrain.

But this is who I am, as incongruent as it may seem:

I’m perceptive and brainy or an idiot with a dream.

It’s absurd I suppose that I’ve always been at both extremes.

I’ve never made things simple, I like to play on all the teams.

So take a deep breath. Remind yourself to chuckle.

Take of your shoes. Undo your belt buckle.

Embrace that sorta loco part of you, it’s the tequila to your lime!

Cause all the other stuff we ALL feel all the time.

Hold on to whatever makes you different, whatever make you you.

Cause it’s all about perception folks, that’s my first big poetic clueJ

 me

ps: alternate titles!!!

the peanut butter and cream cheese conundrum?/

Internal dissonance?/

playing kickball in black patent leather mary janes/

bag o nuts with fruit AND chocolate./

please love me even though i'm a self aware wacko...i promise it will be mutually fortuitous.

Reach for the Stars!

The over-ambitious mind of the Entomologist: 

What the heck is wrong with me that I feel the need to write this?

Said the documentarian of bugs as he prepared his thesis.

Is it really going to help if we know every species there is to know?

Is it really gonna do anything but make life go by less slow?

Oh dear, he thought in earnest as he pinned a beetle to his Styrofoam,

I hope life’s got more in store for me than ever was for Rome!

so in my theoretical picture book, this is accompanied by a sketch of a beaming super scientist in front of his award winning bug exhibition.  the pic above is of an amazing beetle we dissected on our last family vacation in Panama.  The birnbaums are awesome. and smart. and not afraid to get a little dirty:) I'm a lucky girl:)

Self Help?

Why I’m getting the fuck out of bed to go to yoga tomorrow morning:

I need to change my life

I need to change it now

I’m sick of being a sofa sitting lazy little cow

I’m sick of feeling like I suck even though I don’t

I’m sick of wanting to kill myself even though I won’t

And I’m starting to feel that pull of a life in the great beyond

A life that might in fact be safer than one in backyard’s pond.

It’d clearly be more exciting, it’d clearly be more fun

And while there’d be great dangers, there’s no greater than the greatest one.

And that’s the danger that can occur when you stay within your gates.

It’s the danger of the living dead. The decayed. The far too ripened grapes.

It’s a choice we make from day to day and sometimes get caught in the bustle

To remember that life can be good easy and fun even when you have to hustle

i'm pretty sure this poem should be accompanied by a picture of some kind of lazy cow on a couch surrounded by munchies with a sweat band on. yeah.

Dirty 1

God I love being sexy. Isn’t it a dream,

To know that with one look they’ll make you want to scream,

To know that with your pants on they’ll want to take them off,

To know that with a parting of your lips you’ll cause them to fake a cough

Oh the silent power, the thrill, the satisfaction

Of going out at night knowing you’ll get some action.

But also, it’s pretty cool to look right in the mirror,

Not seeing what’s fat or ugly or socially inferior,

But seeing that special curve right above your thigh,

And you snicker to yourself, cause you deserve this high!

Of course you wish there was a Him to touch and see your perfection

But you haven’t found the Him with the perfect predilection!

And remember this rare moment where you KNOW that

YOU ARE HOT

For the next time you’re far too nervous to show him what you’ve got