Porche Freeman


Confessions Of A Hipster - Poem by Porche Freeman

I can't hear you over the sounds of The Shins on my iTouch.
I watch your mouth move but I don't care to much.
My music sounds like an orgy of broken computers.
My thoughts are to complex for you to clutch.

I am a Hipster and these are my confessions.
Scalene triangles and vintage are my obsessions.
My hair is so messy.
My life style is formed out of homosexual repression.

I don't wear skinny jeans, they're called fitted.
I love this hat that my grandmother knitted.
I carry sticky pads and sharpeys for artistic expression.
I got a ticket for being so cool unpermitted.

My name is John, but I tell people to call me Noah.
I once fell in love with a girl named Ramona.
I listen to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs but she said No No No.
So it was over fo eva.

I carry a camera because I am indie.
My favorite band is Breakfast with Cindy.
I love freaking coffee.
Look at my ironic t- shirt, I'm so trendy.

I am a Hipster and these are my confessions.
Scalene triangles and vintage are my obsessions.
My hair is so messy.
My life style is formed out of homosexual repression.


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Poem Edited: Wednesday, May 11, 2011


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