2011+Week+4


 * Week 4! Well, actually this is the 5th week but we didn't meet last week and to avoid confusion, this shall henceforth be known as Week 4! Anyways. Since so many of you have been apologizing about your OUTSTANDING poetry, you shall all go forth and write anti-apology poems. No more apologizing for your brilliance! :D**

I'm sorry. But I'm not. -Adam "Short Poems" Bourgault

Yes, I did it. I did it because it was the right thing to do and I knew that it was the wrong choice and I both hated and loved every minute of my tiny little act of disobedience. Raised from birth not to, told time and time again about the virtues of waiting and the ever-lasting benefit of self deprivation. I'm not sorry. I'll bear the mark of my actions until the day I die and the world will see that I am rotten and corroded down to my very bones and I will smile and bare my corruption, <span style="color: #404040; font-family: Georgia,serif;">my pure sin, <span style="color: #404040; font-family: Georgia,serif;">to the entire world <span style="color: #404040; font-family: Georgia,serif;">and they will see that I am proud. <span style="color: #404040; font-family: Georgia,serif;">That I am not ashamed. <span style="color: #404040; font-family: Georgia,serif;">That I will err on the side of danger <span style="color: #404040; font-family: Georgia,serif;">and live on the edge <span style="color: #404040; font-family: Georgia,serif;">until I die, alone and spent, <span style="color: #404040; font-family: Georgia,serif;">in a dark corner of the world <span style="color: #404040; font-family: Georgia,serif;">surrounded by evil bliss. <span style="color: #404040; font-family: Georgia,serif;">Yes, I did it, and I do not repent: <span style="color: #404040; font-family: Georgia,serif;">I ate that cake <span style="color: #404040; font-family: Georgia,serif;">and I went and spoiled my supper.

<span style="color: #404040; font-family: Georgia,serif;">Ellyn "It's a Lie" Touchette


 * //A Whiz//**

Sometimes nature calls and a man just needs his chance to tinkle. It happens, piddling.

So naturally when I need to take a whiz, I’m going to go to the bathroom. But as I stand at the urinal taking my time, (for after all, one must stay healthy) another guy stands behind me waiting for me to finish up at the urinal.

Yes, I understand that this is the only urinal in the bathroom. But, hey, look, an empty stall! Why don’t you go take your pee to the toilet? Is your ego too large that you will not stoop to the level of relieving yourself in the same device a woman uses? Are you so insecure in your masculinity that in order to maintain some testosterous charade you will line up behind me in some urinal parade? You’ll avoid the stall at all costs, so you’ll stand behind me, (and only a few feet, unfortunately), waiting me to finish.

Well I’ll tell you what, Buster. For the time that I am standing here, and while I still need relieving, this urinal is //mine,// all //mine!// Use the stall, or go somewhere else, because, if I’m going to be Frank, (or perhaps //your// name is Frank, in which case, I will quickly take that back) but if I’m going to be //blunt,// your standing behind me, while I’m trying to take a pee, makes me nervous, and is keeping me from the sweet, sweet, relief I seek.

So stand behind me for another minute, stand behind me for 20 minutes. We can stand here for hours on end, //days// even, and I won’t budge. I will pee and pee, and when I can pee no longer, I will just stand here some more, until the pee comes back again.

Sure, I’ll have to stop eventually, but you, sir, need to learn a lesson. I swear, from the bottom of my heart, that if you are waiting for me to finish up, zip my fly, I will stand here all day, unfazed, because I promise that I will //never// apologize to the man who rushes nature’s call.

-Lincoln “Potty Mouth” Gray


 * Wasted Apologies**

Oh brother. Here we go again. Cease fire, ‘cause you’ve already taken your free shots. I’m not going to hit back this time. Scream and shout at me. Tell me to get out. But I don’t listen. No man can be my master but me. No one can guide my fate. No one makes my choices for me. And there’s no bigger insult than what you do after. You tell me sorry. You apologize. An apology is nothing but renouncing your beliefs in favor of the situation at hand. An apology is the weakness of humans’ disbelief in themselves. And you waste your breath on saying sorry. Empty words, that’s all they are. No more empty than the depths of space. No more than your angry heart. Lighten up, buddy. And stop sayin’ you’re sorry. ‘Cause you’re wasting your words, your breath, your time. On me.

You’ve got the tools, the energy, the potential, But you’re wastin’ your time sayin’ sorry. Let me tell you, there’s a time and a place for apologies. And that place isn’t here. That place is when you screw up. That place is in the place where you know no amount of ‘sorry’ can fix it. Because all the sorries of the world have been used up. Like a well gone dry. Like an inflation. ‘Cause your apology’s worthless. Build up a new person. One who doesn’t scream. Doesn’t plead. Doesn’t hate. Doesn’t ignore.

Your words are as empty as my glass. It’s been empty for a while now. Emptied by your words. Your emotionless hateful tones. And you can fill it again. You can go to the well and conjure the water back. Your words can be filled with meaning. And all you gotta do is stop. Stop your hate and dependence. Because you can work on it. Now. Fill’er up.

-Jason "Brotherly Love" Meuse

My noncompliance to the hidden stipulation that is camouflaged in the adolescent mass leads to a case of clouded minds and a broken commandment

The plaintiff states my crime brands me with unfavorable words sends me to my death or exile For my actions I lose it all.

But your honor, I have no intentions of regressing towards the past I feel no remorse for my choices My plea is simple

The book, I burned it The rule, I shook it The bird, I flipped it And him, well he was nothing.

I was simply seeking refuge with a desire to rid myself of a boy of my past

I stand here your honor, laughing at your court your biased jury, and juvenile inclinations

I am not sorry for I’ve done nothing wrong, it was he who wronged me, who lead me to my feat

You’re bound by your own laws let me go free and I’ll remain inflicted by the cause of this mess

Charlotte "Don't kiss other people's boyfriends" Feinberg