TheGraceEffect

You are...

Graceful, every movement seems effortless..

Resulting in this display of emotional effluence..

Writing down each thought that comes to mind..

Please believe you are truly one of a kind..

You are...

Ravishing, from your hair to your toes..

Picturesque without striking a pose..

A beautiful smile similar to a glow stick..

One that can brighten up a room quick..

You are...

Alluring, yet seemingly untouchable..

Young and in like, I'm Theodore Huxtable..

You can be my Justine Phillips in real life..

The Cosby Show relations but with no strife..

You are...

Cute and adorable, but I'm just a geek..

Everything about you makes me feel weak..

From dimples, to eyes, to your cheeks..

But not all I see in you is strictly physique..

You are...

Young yet you belong on Venus..

Here I'm stuck on Mars, a confuzzled genius..

Who can't comprehend the reasons why..

I feel this way yet you're still not mine..

You truly are...

IDon'tLoveYou

This one’s for you…I hope it explains everything

I don’t love you. It’s not that I don’t. And it’s not that I can’t. It’s because I don’t want to love you.

See…I refuse to let what we have be generalized into something any less specific than how we define it ourselves. How we feel about each other. How we see ourselves. And how we explain it.

Music, movies and poetry, can’t say as much as I could. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I could either. You make me feel like…some word that hasn’t even been invented yet…I’m infloveuated.

Because a made up word is the only way I can tell you how I feel. Not through this poem, not through the many I’ve written you. And not through the songs I’ve written for you…But through a word that means more than “love”. A word that hasn’t been used so many times and thrown around so casually it’s lost its true meaning.

You see…that’s exactly what’s happened to “love”. I still hold it by the same standards as William Shakespeare and Pablo Neruda. But the people like me in this world are running out. While you are incomparable.

Yet I still can’t love you.

But I’d actually say that I loved you, for the sole purpose of keeping your attention for a few minutes longer while I finish this poem.

Then maybe you’d see that I can’t really love you…Nor do I want to.

Because those who have ‘loved’ and have ‘been loved’ have already been through enough. They have been misused, mistreated, abused, misunderstood and ignored.
Just like the word. And just like its meaning.

Love’s been bandied about too much. From countless love songs to Hallmark cards, it’s not as personal as it used to be. It used to mean something. It used to mean you actually “loved” something. Now it just means you like it a lot.

He might “love” you. But I love banana Slurpees from 7-11. So you’re obviously equal to a frozen, artificial beverage…So what should you believe?

I don’t put faith in a single word that’s supposed to embody the deepest of human emotions. One that consists of a single syllable. So instead, I craft a picture with a thousand words.
Though not one of them say that I want to love you.

There’s no word for the bond that I want to share with you. A bond that gives me superpowers just being close to you. A bond that makes me rethink about my entire outlook on life and look at it in another way. A bond that makes me want to grow up, be mature and suit up. A bond that makes me wish that I had met you the day I was born. Because I can look back and regret every single second I’ve spent without you in my life.


I’m not talking about 007…I’m talking about a bond that makes me write down every single thing I like about you, then try to decide if I love them, or if I just like them. But I just can’t seem to finish the list. I’m talking about a bond where I know exactly what you’re thinking. A bond where I can finish your sentences…but I don’t, because the sound of your voice sets my soul on fire.
Don’t get it wrong…I don’t love you.

But I do want to be like your living, breathing diary. The one you open your heart to when you have no one else to talk to. Fill me in…fill me up with words as I let the ink sink into every crevice and every pore, and I come to understand you better than anyone else ever could.
Though I still couldn’t love you.

But I do want to be there for you. I want to be the ear you confide in, the eyes you gaze into, the hand you hold and the shoulder you cry on. But most of all, I want to be the one that puts a smile on your face.

I want to share a connection so deep, that the fathoms of my heart and my mind intertwining with yours could be bridged from across the universe. With thoughts alone, I could share with you, the most intimate conversation from across a crowded room. I want to be your BFF. So that no matter how mad we get at each other, we couldn’t stay that way for long. Then as quickly as it all started, we make up and everything would be fine again because we know each other will always be there.

But “love” won’t. It’s on life support and there’s nothing we can do to make the notion of love last longer. I think it’s time to pull the plug and restart with a whole other concept, and a whole other word. A word that means more than what “love” has devolved into.

But we could get together and recreate everything that that word was supposed to mean. Erase the undefined, yet cliché definition of it, and rewrite it ourselves with invisible ink. Because no one else needs to see it. You see, love is a whole lot like faith. And it’s a whole lot like the wind. You know it’s there, but you can’t see it. Neither can you explain it.

It’s the same way how I feel about you. And I’m pretty sure it’s not “love” I’m feeling.
Because I don’t love you…and I can’t love you. Neither do I want to.

You see…I’m already infloveuated.

Undefeated

Pass me rock like Stockton to Malone

A clone, blessed with the gift to break the 2-3 zone

Ewing high-tops with the high-top fade

Cavalier dagger like an MJ fade

Over Craig Ehlo, did I hurt your ego?

The Hawks ain't nothing I fly higher than an eagle

Pistol Pete range then I post up like Boozer

D like Artest 'cos I fear that I'll lose her

On the fast break. Send it to the hoop

Slam it down fierce to complete the alley oop

Halftime show playing Nas like a hero

Maybe you can win if you take another free throw

...Then retire. Check out my attire

Always stay official like head umpires

Plus the refs. I'm LeBron James living

A champion with the "mic" like Pippen

Then I lay up, hang time so I stay up

Try a little pump fake so you wake up

Stojakovic...on my waist, so hit up the pager

I'm an all-star, emitting light like sabers

Calm your mind down like Jazz in the air

If you care, get a nice stitched jersey over there

Pull behind the back crosses like CP3

Hit the buzzer beater 3, at the end of OT

I'm the opposite of Bradley, never dunk on me

With the finger wag swag like Mutumbo on D

I'm Shaq in the post, y'all a kryptonite nuisance

Forget playing games, yo I'm on my Mark Cuban

PrettyYoungThing

I always wanted a girl just like you...

Such a P.Y.T....a pretty, young thing.

I want to love you

You pretty, young thing.

You need some lovin'

Some tender love and care.

And I'll take you there...

Beyond the clouds, beyond the skies

past the stars and to another galaxy.

Intertwining with an image of you

a split second after passing me.

Past constellations I'm thinking

that you could have been a part of.

In place of stars and comets

in galaxies neither of us have heard of

But you are past pretty

with a small hint of beyond beautiful.

Writing poetry is what I'm induced to do

Until the time I'm introduced to you.

I want to love you

You pretty, young thing.

You need some lovin'

Some tender love and care.

And I'll take you there...

TheSimplicityOfItAll

I can't believe I haven't figured it all out yet..

On the other hand I just figured out my outfit..

A splash of color to brighten up the bland..

Put my iPod on repeat and tune up the band..

An influx of claps, kicks and bass in my eardrums..

An intake of emotions yet my fingers near numb..

Block out discomfort with time for reflection..

Trying to decipher every inner conviction..

Every answer I've hidden from myself..

How I've played every hand you've dealt..

Why I fell for you, why I can't move on..

Why I still try though you're already gone..

I've made the greatest discovery possible..

One that makes the Rosetta stone seem laughable..

I'm a gentleman that's really quite affable..

Facing a prospect that seems impossible..

...

And that's making you love me..

My angel...hold no one else above me..

You are lovely...but that's the discovery..

That's exactly what's impeding my recovery..

A beautiful smile and cute cheeks..

Nice eyes and a sense of style so chic..

Innocent and caring, patient and fun..

Every aspect that makes you my number one..

Intelligence beyond compare..

Yet shy and mature with time to spare..

A pure sense of self that can last forever..

An infectious laugh that makes everything better..

Now I'm wishing for another angel like you..

Knowing that's impossible, so I bid you adieu..

True love is undercover see..

And that is my discovery..

IWishIHadSuperPowers

Everyday I wish I had superpowers.
Seeing everything that goes wrong around me, I keep dreaming I could do something about it even if it’s something tiny like what Jasper does in Twilight. But it never comes true.
So every year, I’m stuck hoping that something goes awfully right in the next 365 days of the year that would lead to some sort of accident…just so I get super powers. Last year, as I was writing my New Year’s Resolutions I even put in “Gain the superpower to control time through some freak accident involving a giant hourglass filled with dangerous chemicals being used to be tested on animals, which broke and spilled all over me because I broke in, in order to stop animal abuse.” And that is a direct quote, posted January 7, 2009 on Facebook.

But unfortunately for me, I can’t find any companies that fill those requirements. And I’m not sure what radioactive waste would actually do to me, or if they even have any. So for now, I’ll just leave that type of thing to the writers of comic books and the developers of video games because a few days ago, I found my own superpower.

Now I know it’s nothing awesome like being able to fly, teleport, or having super human strength. But this is one thing that I was born to do, just as much as Jon and Kate’s eight kids were made so that they could have a TV show.
My super power is the ability to love you more than any other person can and I didn’t need Captain America’s Super Soldier Serum or Wolverine’s Weapon X program to do it.
And I'm fine with that. And I get superpowers just being close to you, so what’s there to complain about?
You do to me, the opposite of what kryptonite does to Clark Kent.
Your touch does to me what it does to a Wonder Twin, and when you hug me, I feel like I’m enveloped in Tony Starks’ armor. Your words build me up like a robot…I’m Astro Boy and I have machine guns…in my butt?

If I had millions and millions of dollars, I would spend it all on you. Because you are my Batcave, the shelter I seek away from prying eyes and foes seeking to do me in. You are every gadget Batman could ever afford, because with you, I can do anything. You're the reason I'm getting somewhere like my Batmobile, with the way you motivate and inspire me to do better. You act as my Bat-signal, bringing me back to reality from whatever I'm doing. Just like a utility belt, you're always there for me when I need you and unlike Batman's utility belt, you always stay the same no matter what the situation and I like it that way. But you're the opposite of a Batarang, because you're something I could never throw away...and who knows if you'd come back or not.

Now I’m daydreaming into the future wishing I could put a ring on your finger…like the power ring the Green Lantern has. That way I would know you were always safe because c’mon…nobody’s going to mess with the Green Lantern.

And if you were ever hurt, or if there was a tear rolling down your left cheek…I would Hulk out on the inside. If I could, I would turn into Rogue just so I could siphon all the hurt from you into myself so that you could be nothing less than happy.
You make me wish I was Mr. Fantastic, not because he has Jessica Alba, but just so that each time you would call me, I would feel like I’m doing something right…Hey, I’m fantastic aren’t I?

You see, without you I’m Daredevil without the superhuman senses, I’m Galactus if he lost his appetite, I’m Cyclops without eyes, I’m the Human Torch if he was stuck on the sun, I'm the Joker before he was Heath Ledger, I’m Lex Luthor if he was broke, I’m Deadpool the way they played him in the end of the Wolverine movie...basically, I would suck.

So I continue to use my one superpower…and this is only the first issue.

ClaimMe

Right now I’m feeling “lost”. Not the kind of “lost” as in I don’t know where I am and where I’m going.
But more a “lost” where I’m just not attached to something or someone in particular.
The kind of “lost” where I feel I’m getting suffocated by all the misplaced agendas, forgotten pencil cases and a bunch of other random materials stacked on top of me. See, I’m lost…and I haven’t been found yet.
So I got to thinking that everything that has been loaded onto my shoulders in this hubbub of commotion we call life is there for a reason. The agenda keeps telling me that my plans haven’t gone in order and I need to just slow down and take it one step at a time. The pencil case is there taunting me, wagging pens in my face, because I have no one to write about and it’s eating me up inside. And so is the lost lunch that’s been there since June of last year…

So now I’m just thinking to myself…the thing I want most in life is not that hard.

I’m looking for somebody to claim me!
Someone that would just find me and never let me out of their sight…like a stalker or a kidnapper.
Well, not really. But I thought I’d just point how scary that would be.

I want somebody to claim me!
Maybe just one person that would just stand up and say “That’s my boyfriend reading that poem!”
But then that would be all sorts of awkward wouldn’t it?

Okay, I got it!
I just want somebody to claim me!
Not as a prize that I don’t deserve to be but...just as a new discovery.
I want someone to rise up and place that flag in my soul, proving that they were the first ones to have made that epic quest to discover who I really am beyond the pointy edges, the intimidating exterior and the temperamental weather.
They weathered it all…and for what? For nothing but my sincerest and heartfelt “Thank you”s.
One person that listened to every random thing that’s ever come from my mouth…because honestly, it gets pretty hard to keep up. Like…how many guys talk about polkadotted panda bears and eating Popeye’s biscuits on the Millennium Falcon…or even wishing they were the 5th member of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles…or just a ninja in general. Because ninja’s are cool and I really think that they should have beaten the Spartan on Deadliest Warrior. But I digress.

I want somebody to claim me!
To reach in and pull me out of this abyss of nonchalant existence and show me a different view of life. I want somebody to take me out of my Batcave and show me the light of the sun…or maybe just substitute that with her smile, either way works for me. I want somebody to take this weight off my shoulders and introduce me to the freedom of free air. I want somebody to be my inspiration, not just a person that’s there. What I’m trying to say is…

I WANT SOMEBODY TO CLAIM ME!

LoveLetters

I spend all day writing love letters.
I spend all day reading poems, stories and even watching sappy sitcoms…I even write essays for her.
Everything I do is with her in my mind. I…I just can’t help it.

But the thing is…I don’t even think she likes me back.
Since she’s always avoiding me and all…she even runs away from me sometimes.
I can’t hold onto her and she always disappears and escapes.
But that’s all on me.

Everybody always tells me to pay attention. But I was too busy with my tunnel vision

that I missed the bigger picture…and she’s quite the fickle mistress.

And with little warning on her behalf, she would test the reaches of my devotion...
Just a little mistake and she starts going off on a tangent.
One wrong answer and she’d have me taking ten steps back.
She’s so multi faceted and complex, I can never fully understand what she whispers to me.
But I keep listening…I keep trying to understand every little thing she presents to me.
I want to get to know her…but knowing her is a crash course in knowing everything.
And nothing is ever concrete when she’s involved…walking alongside her is like holding hands with air and walking on Jell-O. Nice…orange…flavored Jell-O.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a problem with commitment, but too many times…
I’ve been tempted to give up on her, telling myself it’s all not worth it.
So I look for the easy way out. Looking for something much less difficult, trying to take a shortcut.
I’ll admit *sigh* I’ve been tempted to cheat once or twice…three times…so many times I’ve lost count.
But I’d never do that to her. I love her too much. And that wouldn’t be fair to either of us.

The thing is, I need her in my life…because without her, my life would be so empty and useless. My future would just be one monotone scene from a long forgotten movie whose ending didn’t really matter.

So I spend all day writing my own version of love letters because I’m a love drunk fool.
See, our relationship can’t even be defined as your everyday boyfriend/girlfriend couple.
It’s a lifetime commitment…but we’re not married.
So if it’s not called marriage and we’re more than just a couple, what are we?

I’ll tell you just that. Me and my girlfriend go by the name EPISTEMOLOGY.
Because I’m in love with wisdom. And she has been there my whole life…I just needed to open my eyes.

TheTits

Now here’s a list of what I look for in a girl…

TITS…
Really don’t matter to me. Because the only A’s, B’s, C’s and D’s I care about in a girl are on her report cards. I want an academic type of female, regardless of her cup size as long as she upsized on God-given intellect. I would find her sexier if she read William Shakespeare and The Great Gatsby instead of Elle, Cosmopolitan and Seventeen so she could know what to wear. If she wore glasses so she could read, instead of a corset to accent her hips and breasts, she’d be more attractive because personality don't jiggle and no one ogles a sense of humor.

EYES…
Don’t make much of a difference; it’s what she sees through her eyes that “eye” care about. A girl could have the most beautiful hazel eyes, but see the worst side of things. But a girl that sees the bright side of life is amazing…and I could stare into her poop colored irises for hours. Crystal clear blue eyes don’t change a thing if she’s blind to the world, blind to how much I care and blind to the fact that looks aren’t everything. Her exotic, slanted eyes don’t work as well when she doesn’t see the bigger picture and I have to resort to…forcing eye contact between us when she has her blinders on.

PERFECT LIPS…
Wouldn’t make much of a difference. As long as she could use hers to speak words that could make my blood boil, and my mind zone out. Regardless of her kissing ability, I would willingly sacrifice hearing a singer’s voice for the right choice of words being said to me instead of having intercourse. If she was mute…her lips would be nothing more than ornaments. So I look for what lies behind…the thoughts being said through her hands that I would rather have being held in mine.

She doesn’t need to have LONG, BLONDE HAIR…She could be Amber Rose bald for all I care. Which is kind of ironic...since Kanye loves one, but dislikes the other. But I couldn’t care less, as long as she got a passing grade from my mother.

And ASS…
Is nothing more than what you use to sit down. She could have an apple bottom, watermelon bottom, papaya bottom, or grape bottom…whatever that means…as long as she could sit across from me and have interesting conversation. The only curves I need on a girl are the distortions her voice makes in the air as she talks to me because I'd take Taylor Swift over Kim Kardashian any day.

LONG LEGS…
Aren’t that important. So long as she can take me places I’ve never even thought of, it’s an easy exception to make. Regardless of the state of her legs, she can limp right into my dreams…and yes, my heart is wheelchair accessible.

ELF EARS...YEAH! ELF EARS!

Now I’m not saying I’m not shallow. I wouldn’t say no to a supermodel, but I’m just looking as hard as I can for what makes a woman a person, instead of a Barbie doll. I’m trying to change attractive to appealing…interested to intriguing. Basically, I’m just looking for a better person than what lies on the outside. And maybe, she can help me become one too.

MapTheSoul

We started off as perfect strangers…boy meets girl.

Introductions to a date, infatuation into fate; now she’s my whole world.

Heaven sent, she’s God’s gift without a doubt in my mind.

But I can’t help but wonder why our paths just happened to collide.

Destiny, taps me on the back to say hello.

But it was actually her touch and I’ll never let her go

Then she spoke, I never heard a voice so sweet

Her laugh is so amazing so I’ll never let her weep…now…

I’m trying to map the soul of a soulful girl from Seoul, Korea who I wish would be my soul-mate because…I keep getting lost in her eyes and I am in search of the path that would lead me to her mind…and from there I would follow the road to her heart.

Etymology can’t begin to dissect what I could describe about her. What makes her so special that the depths of my affections for her go beyond the distance of time and space in the Milky Way. But I’ll give it a shot anyway.

The back of her head is just the perfect shape, the cuticles on her fingernails are always clean and she has the cutest lisp you can ever imagine. My soul shivers whenever she says words like “soul”, when she tells me to “slow down” and when I - ATCHOO - “God bless you”.
Her fingers bend in the cutest way, she has dimples below the corners of her mouth and the 17th eyelash on the bottom eyelid of her left eye is so beautiful. Her right bicuspid is just a little bit longer than the left but it all fits perfectly when she smiles. When she holds in her laughter, she puts her hand over her mouth until she can’t take it anymore and she just bursts out laughing. And most of all, when she talks…I pay attention.

But then that’s only topographical.

The way I feel for this girl is so deep, it can’t be placed on the map of her soul. It’s three dimensional, and it’s larger than any global sphere of this planet. Even from far she’s gorgeous, a sight to behold…she’s earthbound and angelic, and I don’t need a telescope to wonder in awe. NASA eat your heart out.
But if there was a telescope that let me see into her soul, I’d be sold. Because all I’m doing is trying to map her soul so that I can find my way through the most complex regions of her mind and her heart with the use of a compass I refer to as…her words.

Through conversations and shared thoughts, I can outline the walls around her heart and cross borders towards her feelings. Backpacking through the confines of her being, through the wild terrain of her imagination and the lofty palace she calls her goals and aspirations… I can continue my mission to explore and map the most beautiful part of her essence…her soul.