Words Rarely Spoken.

Chivalry

When I was a young boy,

Nobody told me chivalry was dead,

That’s because I watched Disney movies religiously,

They should have been called, “A series on how to be prince charming”

Chivalry only died when the phrase, “Good guys finish last” was made,

Because the real killer of chivalry is women - not all,

The ones who openly take the hand of a man that beats her,

Takes away her will to live and doesn’t know how to treat her,

Chivalry is no more because women choose to stay with their man,

Even when he’s bullshit - take the bad boy character over anything else,

Chivalry is as dead as seeing girls complain a guy is mean,

If he is such an asshole stop running back to him,

Because no wonder nice guys finish last….

Nobody gives them a chance.

Plenty To Say.

There’s plenty that I want to say,

But the best way isn’t through foot steps,

I’m the home of my mental congress,

Collective thoughts cycling down the drain,

I’m going crazy losing my mental train,

I’m pretty sure it derailed when it missed that turn at albuquerque,

I’ll keep my words locked up like I lost the key,

And who would have known that words would flow so furiously,

I feel like my hands have forgotten the feeling,

Or was it my mind just trying to throw it away,

But I’ve got plenty to say,

Though to do so with foot steps will paint the wrong picture,

Because I hold my soul higher than my foot,

I’ll map out this chess board like I’m trying to find treasure,

And walk it blindly like I’m a pawn under pressure,

I’m trying my best to do anything to impress her,

Talk like I’m a big shot,

Walk with some swagger,

But I’m actually nerdy and a bit out of my mind,

Got less flow than this poem,

When I think, I tend to lose my place,

But I’m actually nerdy and a bit out of my mind,

Trying my best to go through this with ballet type grace,

But I’ve lost my dancing shoes,

Left them in the cubby in my kindergarden class,

Or my locker in grade twelve,

Because I’ve grown past this high school ish,

But hopefully this poetry isn’t part of it,

I still feel like I’ve got plenty to say,

But my hands are stuttering across the page,

Like I am rhyming single syllables with my heart beat,

So lend me yours so I can distinguish what I need to hear from what I need to say,

Maybe I’ll take you on in a little game of four play,

Four words for each heart beat and eight words for each blink,

Then we’ll clang hands and drink,

Drink the subtlety of my voice as I reach in your throat,

Pull out your imagination and watch as your eyes close,

Focus on the reflected imagery of your mind on your eye lids,

And I’ll tell you everything that I have to say,

Because I’m not sure if you know or not, but I’ve got plenty to say.

Let me tell you guys a funny story…

My mom was at a trade show for her work and she got onto the topic of tattoos.  She told a lady she works with that I was getting my first.  The lady asked what it was going to be and my mom told her a quill pen.  She asked why… so my mom said its because I wrote a lot of poetry through out high school.  The lady then looked at my mother straight in the eye and asked if I was gay.  Why is poetry gay…is Shane Koyczan gay? No! is Joshua Bennett gay? NO! Just because I expressed myself on paper and in front of a crowd does not mean I’m gay.

Now I have nothing against gay people, but I have everything against ignorance and those who just assume stupid shit!

Last Night Was Rough

Bipolar animal I see the pain I cause it’s tangable,

But I just can’t believe it how imaginable,

Lumberjack taking my chainsaw and cutting down feelings,

Breaking trust like boarding in the NHL,

I honestly just want to forget what happened - it was such hell,

Swollen eyes showing my weakness,

My defence mechanism is set to attack mode,

Kevlar vests can’t do anything to stop these bullets,

But I’d rather turn the danger upon myself,

There is no excuse for why I loose control,

But you’re not the one that should have to deal with it,

Don’t be feeling sorry - pushing me was the right thing to do,

Protecting yourself from danger is my number one objective,

Even when I am the one causing it,

It’s mind blowing,

When you finally realize how many mistakes you make,

And it hits you hard,

Knowing that even through it all she still sticks beside you,

It’s more shocking that a toaster in a bathtub,

Extra bubble bath to soften the blow,

But I can’t get over how hard it must be,

And I’m here trying to deflect it,

But rather I should take it and rebuild.

I’m worse than Godzilla on a rampage,

And I’ll just tear out this page and start a new,

Because pain is never my intention - I love you.