The Happy Poem

I call this one the happy poem
Because it is THE only one
that can ever make me happy.
I don't write happy,
but who does really?

It's all
RaInBoWs
and
Blue Skies
and
Smiles
Just
little lies.

Happiness is a warm gun
It'll go off in a flash
and be gone until you reload
the endorphins in your mind
that help you unwind
from the stress of this
everyday
ho-hum
life.

But this was meant to be a happy poem
About those little rainbows and blue skies
And the things that make it seem alright.

Too bad I'm happier when the sky is gray
And the sun won't shine while the clouds stay
and I'm happier when the rain pours
than when the light shines down to spread colorful spores
of that disgustingly morose representation
of a culture that really can't be described in a rainbow
Because who the fuck is comparable to that?

Every color is never duller
Than when it's put into context
around this concave, convex
mirror that I stare into
and hate the rainbow-bright
starry-blue-eyes
glaring back
through the night.

This is the gay poem
The happiest there is?
This is the way poem
...just the WAY it is.

Here in my mind I find shelter
from the thoughts of the world
and the thoughts of my mind
when I'm exposed to that world
and the right that I'm wrong
because I don't love the girl
The way a man loves a woman
in that silly story of boy/girl
that started the mindset
that led to the hate
that burns my bridges
and makes me late
for this "fairy"-tale life
that I was promised
when someone told me
about one
Gay
Poem.

This is the happiest poem I'll ever write
Because I'm not good at happy, it just isn't right.
Cause who wants to take the time
When they're at the peak of mind
that defines the happiest moment of life
To sit down and write?

I live for the experience
and experience the life
So I'll pause when I'm brooding
Or seeing an insightful sight.

But as for the moment,
This is the gayest piece of poetry babble
That has ever "come out" of my life.