Why I Dont Buy Girls Flowers

I never give a girl flowers. Something about a gift, ideally, is that it makes and holds a special weight with someone. The key chain that reminds me of your smile when I hold it in my hand, the sweater I wear when I want to impress someone and I only am thinking of you. Flowers have been commonplace, if you like a girl, give her pretty flowers, but why?

If I had to pick a favorite flower it would probably be an Orchid. I don’t have a particular reason other than my mother liked them. She always bought them at the end of the summer. She says they remind her of her mother. Maybe its coincidence that her mother died when she was young and flowers die before they can really grow. I can understand maybe remembering a beautiful life with the life of something beautiful.But why do we buy something just to have it die?

I never give a girl flowers because it the clique that we all to often avoid confrontation with. We are beautiful for a moment and then our moment is gone. We are destined for a decadent process of decay and exponential fragility. There is hope that your beauty could be preserved, but it’s never the same and it’s never perfect. That’s the truth in flowers and in life. We are here for a beautiful moment and then we’re gone. With an uncharted task: whether it’s for your birthday, your moms birthday, any occasion, any survivable moment. It seems oddly existential that we celebrate life with something that is already dying.

I never give a girl flowers because she deserves something better than death. She deserves a smile when she reaches into her pocket or looks at her ears in the mirror. She deserves to know she is more important than just a moment, and that you love her even after she has started to wilt. She deserves something more that a moment of beauty.

I Fell In Love With A Stranger

I fell in love with a stranger
I haven’t the balls
to ask her name

I fell in love with a stranger
and I can’t breath
when I see her

I fell in love with a stranger
and I wonder
if she notices me

I fell in love with a stranger
and I feel like I look
at her too much

I fell in love with a stranger
And she wears a school
pin every day

I fell in love with a stranger
and I wonder what she’s
doodling on her notes

I fell in love with a stranger
and I’m playing out our
first words,  laughs
Kiss.

I fell in love with a stranger
and the guy next to her
makes her smile

I fell in love with a stranger
and I want to
make her
smile

I fell in love with a stranger
and she’s got the most
perfect nose

I fell in love with a Stanger
and she wears big
hipster
glasses

I fell in love with a stranger
And she loves what
I  love

I fell in love with a stranger
and she wears clothes only
the most modest

I fell in love with a stranger
and I’m hoping she
finally looks at me

I fell in love with a stranger
and I wouldn’t know how
To speak to her
without shaking

I fell in love with a stranger
and I’m missing my
chance

I fell in love with a stranger
and I hope she
is waiting on me

I fell in love with a stranger
and I see her hold hands
with the boy next to her

I fell in love with a stranger
And now I’m sure you
know.

I fell in love with a stranger
and she didn’t fall in love
with me.

Drunk Photoshop Experiment

Kerouac_1 Bukowski_Photoshop Allen Ginsberg - 1979

I Guess I’ve Become A Sad Drunk

To Whom It May Concern,

I’ve noticed that as i do this experiment my poems have become more weepy, almost overly emotional. I want to clear this up like bad acne and start a more creative, positive, happy drunk experience; like tequila, without the fighting.

I guess this is my public service announcement that im gonna try to mix it up,  do some more manly shit.

Thanks Again for Following,

Cheers,

H. T. Reed

 

The First Drunk Poetry Experiment Continued : Hangover Edition

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Experiment 1: Wine, Whiskey & Scotch

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Echo

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Drunk Poetry Experiment

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Graphic created & produced by Michael Hornsby

Twitter: @MichaelHornsby

 

Time

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We'll see where this ends; It begins with me inside a bottle

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