Why can't my heart be more like my brain?

[UncleSepp]

OK, I'm a rational guy. I know how to read a map and I know a thing or two about people. I try not to expect things of people and know that it's useless to do anything other than take them as they are. That being the case, why is it that I can't seem to get my heart to understand a few simple things? Like that the fellow I've completely fallen for is straight, and lives halfway around the world?

Aiee! It makes me want to write terrible poetry! Someone help before I commit a crime against literary aesthetics!

[everythingsxen]

1. Alas..

The heart and the mind are two seperate beasts sharing one body. Your post sounds a little too "brainy" though. The brain may tell you that things are one way and that some things cannot be done, but the heart never accepts such things. And the heart can overcome almost anything....

I am sure that does not help though. :(

I think you should write bad poetry. :evilgrin:

[AlienGirl]

2. Because grey matter makes a lousy pump!

[miss_american_pie]

3. Oh write the bad poetry

It'll be cathartic. :toast:

[UncleSepp]

4. OK, well...

Some of this was from a few years ago, but it applies just as well now. Shitty Goth poetry. I was drunk when I wrote it. I'm drunk now posting it. Yay for alcohol.

**

Midnight in the summer
The storm is gone and the world is dark and new
The air is fresh and the sky is clean
The world is new and the grasses green
Deep in the back of my mind
It's still June.

Airplanes they pass over
Free and high but I die in the old year with you
The hummingbird will lightly land
The bloody list is in my hand
Down in the pit of my heart
It's still June.

Take me to the tavern
Take me by the hand, I want to go back there then
Take me to the back room
Where your pretty boy holds my head in his hands
Take me to the forgotten place
Let my tears fall on your face
Let me stand beside you
It's still June.

Morning breaks in gray light
The world is ours on this first of July morning
Our mouths are red with bloody waste
My lips are dry with that bitter taste
Down in the bottom of my glass
It's still June.

Take me to the tavern
Take me by the hand, I want to go back there then
Take me to the back room
Where your pretty boy holds my head in his hands
Take me to the forgotten place
Let my tears fall on your face
Let me stand beside you
It's still June.

[miss_american_pie]

5. and I'm drunk reading it

here's to poetry and alcohol :toast:

[everythingsxen]

6. I will counter with shitty Goethe poetry

And other thought is misfortune
Is death and night to me:
I hum no supportable tune,
I can no poet be.

:evilgrin:

Just kidding, neither one is shitty.