Old souls like me may just remain present
The throwback, old days manifested
Souls with ways out of style evident
Thinking like the world is infested

Old souls slumming it their very own way
The ones who still do things like the did then
Still keeping it classy every day
People who study the ways of the men

For oldest hearts and classic souls, it stays
It’s worth the standing out, the ridicule
Doing things the good way, the way that pays
Old souls don’t make fire, we make strong fuel

Old souls who keep it always fully class
Old souls like beautifully lit stained glass

Tonight, I don't feel classy,
so put away the fine glasses,
and bring me a plastic cup and a bottle of your worst wine.

Then, leave me alone.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Ls8-pk4IS4

shirtless and drinking my six dollar sangria from a measuring cup.
never has the formula been so close to be solved. the exact moment when we can say we have made it.

twenty four onces in and my neighbor seems to be a little put off.
this same man comes outside once a day to ask me about college without even putting pants over his underwear so tonight I figure indifference is key.

Summer is a gross mess, even when your doing nothing you find yourself pouring sweat through your white button ups, you looked fine leaving and now that your here doing your best to sound interesting to girl at the bookstore you just look slightly sadder and fatter than before.

thirty six ounces and red teeth tell me that we have made it.

Dress to ****, don't show everything.
Pass smiles, be polite to everyone.
Keep your voice down, never to laugh out loud.
Eat a modest portion, and only one piece of cake.

Walk gracefully, poise in every move.
Sit up straight, legs daintily crossed.
Hold your wine glass by the stem, never by the bowl.
Take a sip by looking into, never over the glass.

There's nothing in the world like proper etiquette.
You can always tell a lady has good breeding
by how effortlessly classy she is.

Fancy gowns flitting around swaying to the soft jazz,
stopping to mingle with a glass of wine in hand,
or sitting solemnly at scarlet clothed table.

I sit alone, staring into a glass that helps drown my past.
A hand reaches out,
a smile so soft it's able to make those years fade
the years of pain and loss, the year of the most bitter winter
“come and dance with me”

Who are you to tell me I'm no good?
***** you
And your classy ways
I'd rather be a pig
Than a trained dog
Be myself
And just let life
Take me far away in this universe of gray

i find
that the word ****
is a poetic word.

"*******"
is harsh
rude
and
brash.

"**** me"
is ******
crass
and
not classy.

"**** it"
means a lot,
like ***** these ideas
***** what is thought.

I find
**** it
is a good phrase.
The other two
negative,
one that's positive
sometimes.
**** it,
implys a lot.
And in this case
it implied
forgetting
what the others
thought
and how others
saw
us.

-r.y.s

I don't know what you think of the word "wicked";
but where I come from it's a funny thing. It doesn't mean evil or sad.
We say "That's wicked cool." It's meaning rings the same as, "That's the ticket!"
Wicked means more; and more hope can't be all that bad.

I guess what I'm saying is, you're "Wicked" nice.
Despite your talent, your wall is full of other people's "Hope".
Vanity is certainly not your choicest vice.
Empathy, perhaps, would better fit the scope.

Your story's still being written down; I'm not sure where that path will stray.
I don't know if it will end in fire or ice- or if either would suffice-
but were Robert Frost here, (and from my home town) he'd say
"I've heard the name. That chick's wicked dope."
Thanks for being Wicked Cool, Wicked Hope