First Poetry Entry by a Listener

My friend Amy has been moved by my new blog, moved to poetry. Here is the crap she has to say:

The Art of Talking to Listeners

okay wow, nobody listens to you, huh?

perhaps we should think about this logically,

cause if you don't like a problem then maybe 

you should do something to fix it, huh?

okay so, nobody listens to you, right?

perhaps we should think about other things 

that nobody ever listens to, and then maybe

we can draw some conclusions, right? 

nobody ever listens to liars

cause what they say is never true

nobody ever listens to people who can't speak

cause actually they don't say anything

nobody ever listens to my whole answering machine

cause its too long, and they've already heard it

nobody ever listens to my advice to watch "company" on DVD

well, too bad for them cause they're missing out

you never listen to me when i tell you to wake up

which is why i had to vanquish you, pillowhead

nobody ever listens to our apartment doorbell ringer

cause that would mean they'd have to get up and answer it

well, don't you see the pattern?

if you don't, here are some helpful hints:

stop trying to talk to me during the interesting commercials

lets just both enjoy them in silence

stop trying to talk to me without first asking permission

we all know thats just rude

stop trying to talk to me about only you, you, you

talk about me or rihanna (take your pick)

haha, don't worry you don't have to say thank you

just think of me everytime someone finally listens

:D

Clarification

Hello cruel world,

It didn't take long now did it. I wanted to blog, but I was too good at listening to others to ever talk about myself. That's all changed and so fast. No one ever listens to me. No one wants to hear my stories also. That's fine: I'll make you listen.

Frustrated,
Kayla!

No One Ever Listens to Me

I push my pillow into my head
A phoenix amongst dreamers
And some bitch to the left
A phoenix am I, getting so real
Like a one-winged dove
Flying in circles,
Limping like a pansy
Out of the ashes of but-her-face slumber

She never listens to me
No one ever does
She'd rather fight
I push the pillow out my head
And while I am
Bending the ashes of slumber over the kitchen table
Not taking "No! There's maple syrup everywhere, can't we do it in the bed?" for an answer
Really getting goin, you know
Breaking the flower vase from our weekend antiquing
And your still so pissed
And I am nervous the kids might walk in on us
Or worse
I don't have any kids
But I still worry about it for some reason
Yeah yeah yeah