Who am I really?!?!?!

Who am I really—they say I could be one of those holometabolous insects, a free-floating butterfly to be exact, not one of those clothes-eating and therefore teenage-girl-life-ruiners called the moths, but as I said they say I could be one of those butterflies, one of those creatures who starts out as a rough and rocky egg that gets juices all over me to turn me into a rather ugly larva, so ugly that I’d never get a boyfriend with all of those legs and foul-smelling chemicals I produce, but then there isn’t really too much of a worry because as they say I could be one of those butterflies, so after the larva I’d turn into the actual butterfly…well afterwards I'd be a poopa or pupa or whatever they seem to call them…and I’d get pooped out of my poopa phase as I’d transform into the stunning butterfly, a sexually mature adult, so sexually mature that all the papa butterflies would flap their wings up and down and up and down and come a-flyin’ over to my neck of the woods to have some good fun, as they would marvel at my rainbow-like colors, but it is too bad that I wouldn’t have gold at the end of me because that would surely cause the papa butterflies to want to find some lucky charms, but nevertheless, it is better to look like a rainbow than be a rainbow because having a leprechaun at my rear-end could get really awkward really quickly, and so instead they say I could be a rainbow-colored butterfly; but they also say I could be a clock, always having the time but never looking at it myself because my eyes would be busy peeping through the six and eight holes, and yes my eyes would be a little lopsided this way but it’s good to see things in a different way, and because eight is the lucky number in China I would get along quite well with the dragons and fortune cookies and of course Hu Jin Tao, or more properly-written 胡锦涛, the Chinese emperor of our time, who people really shouldn’t make fun of for having four eyes because I would only have two eyes in awkward places on my clock face, and really I wouldn’t have a body, but who really needs a body nowadays anyway, as batteries would run my thoughts and my ticking and tocking, or really my native tongue which I’d speak to all those who came by, and at certain times I’d even tick a little louder and tock a little harder so that people could hear the time of day, but hearing myself say all this is making me think that what they say about me possibly being a clock is foolish, and the truth rather comes from the fact that they say I could be broccoli, even though I don’t like broccoli very much, but they say I could be broccoli because all people could eat me even if they were those good-for-nothing vegans or vegetarians who don’t eat the heavenly stomachs from cows in beef or the horse-hooves from horses in gelatin, but they could eat Oreos, even Oreos, because yes, indeed, Oreos are vegan, but they say I could be broccoli, not Oreos, because I’d be healthy for you too, and I’d go into your mouth, jump on the seats of your teeth and watch the movie screen on your tonsils until you chewed me up and swallowed me down, and I’d hope you swallow me and not spit me out because I’d be good for you and I’d bring some Vitamin C, forget Sunny D, to you, but not only that, I’d also bring beauty to you because what is more beautiful than that which looks like a tree, the strongest and bravest being on planet Earth which brings food and air to butterflies and clocks and to you and me, and this beauty would bring beauty into your life and you’d smile and laugh and that’s how I’d be if I were broccoli like they say I could be.

You to me are but an ant to a bee.

You to me are but an ant to a bee.

No bee can use an ant as feed,

Or to build a honeycomb in a tree;

He is not the bee’s ideal employee.

The bee would rather be alone, you see?

The ant is fine with his own company.

He too does not care for the bee,

An athlete with whom he must compete.

It is true they must share the trees,

With each other and the leaves,

The modest amount of food to eat,

The rain tumbling down their cheeks.

They must share the world it seems

With each other and all that breathe.

And if one knew the other, he could see

The ant and the bee fight mutually.

Each one is simply trying to breathe.

Despite who we may be, an ant or a bee,

It is time to open our eyes and see

We are in this together, you and me.

我愛他

不是，他不是我朋友，
不是，他不是我哥哥，
不是，他不是我男朋友，
可是 他將永遠在我的心中。

Silly Poem (Like You)

I used to make clay pots like you
Give them to my mom as gifts like you
I used to sit on the floor like you
Squeezing my knees to my chest like you
I used to cross my legs like you
Twist them like gym class ropes like you
I used to laugh at jokes like you
Even not-so-funny ones like you
I used to watch baseball like you
Awing at Wright's "talent" like you
I used to crack my knuckles like you
Push my thumb out and away like you
I used to study nonstop like you
Hide and fight the blues like you
I used to do everything like you
So I could walk and talk like you
It was because I really liked you
I was just hoping you'd like me too
But now I don't hope to be like you
Instead I only wish to be with you

Oh, what a name is Name

Oh, dearest Name, sensations remind me of him.

You see, each loving embrace is Name’s embrace.

Each taste is of his lips; each sound, his ears.

The air I breathe is the same that Name breathes.

I close my eyes, and all that comes to view is N-A-M-E

Spelt along my eyelids, a spelling I cannot forget.

Their continuance must represent my heart’s call,

My heart’s fears! From Name I cannot escape!

From dawn to dusk, Name never does stray.

Name lies within all thoughts of my congested mind.

I do fear the day Name rather lies within my sheets!

For what would life be if Name were truly here?

What I truly fear is that those sensations disappear.

I adhere to those dreams that endear Name to me,

Yet with Name not here, it will never be clear

That my love for Name is really real.