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Isn't it funny
how the whole world is ran
on reputations.
People bend themselves
to match the expectations of others.
They do not allow themselves to do things
for the sake of their reputations.
People don't let themselves
be themselves
Everyone tries to act
like what they see.
Its too bad most people cannot see
the personalities of the goodhearted people.
Life covered in a thousand scars.
Each time we are seen as different,
the scar reopens.
The cycle repeats,
and what is hurt
can never be fixed.
Reputations
**** society.
People strive to be
smartest
prettiest
kindest
hardest worker
biggest ****
and everything in between,
and those who do not "fit"the category
are discarded into the land of the lost.
Reputations ****.
Why can't people just accept others
*for who they really are
Renae  Aug 2011
Psalm 37:10 &11 ~
Renae Aug 2011
Every time I look up it seems
I’m down on my knees
asking God please
I’m down in the dirt
"Please save this world from the hurt"
and I’m crying out loud
"I wish it were all over now.
Everyone is so blind
Still we keep on trying
though they want to refuse
they still keep on crying
they are praying to you
I'm so confused
I just don't understand
how they could refuse
but so many won't listen
to your good news"

History repeats and
we remember the Jews.
They imagined a King
riding on a white steed
to their disappointment  
he rode on a donkey.
But little did they read
the prophecy.
They became ashamed
Their thoughts a big mess
They put their faith in each other
turned their back on their brother
Built gods of stone
said “to each his own”
Today it remains
influenced the same
Blessing weapons of war
keeps an uneven score
Still perfectly waiting, patiently
for goodhearted ones to respond
His will forever remains the same
the meek and the faithful unite as one
learning to be grateful
for the ransom won
because of  this free gift
many inherit the earth
to reside forever in bliss
no more deaths only birth.
Psalm 37:10&11
Revelation 21: 3 &4
Gustavo Cruz  Sep 2011
Should I ?
Gustavo Cruz Sep 2011
I could write you the most beautiful poem you'd ever read
Or compose the most harmonious song you'd ever listen.

I could tell you,
That I want you so bad.

But I won't.



I could tell you,

That your hair moves like water, flowing gently,
Waving, like the ocean, full of passion,
Both aggresive and kind at the same time.
It's hard to ignore such an hypnotic motion.
And you could fear it, 'cause you know you might drown,
It could pull you down into the deepest,
Darkest abyss in the sea, where the sun never shines.
Or it could swing you gently, make you feel free,
Take you somewhere else, to a place you've never been before,
Full of new emotions and sensations.

But I won't.



I could tell you,

That I'm addicted to your stare and your smile
Because everytime I look into your eyes,
I can see that shy, sweet, happy little girl.
Because I don't JUST SEE your smile,

I feel it.

Like a warm hug that embraces my soul.
And I don't want to look away, no.
I wonder, what would it be like to touch you then?
Would I burn if the hug was physical?
Will I burst into flames with the simple contact of our skin?
What if you could read my thoughts?
What if you could feel like I feel?

But I won't.



I could tell you,

That there's not a single day in wich
The thought of you doesn't cross my mind,
In wich I don't torture myself wondering where you are.
And I've died so many times waiting,
Fighting against the voices inside of my head.
Where? When? Who? And Why?
I have more questions than answers.

But I won't.



I could tell you,

That your're beautiful, amazing, friendly,
Unique, special, sweet, gentle, honest,
Humble, funny, charismatic, gracious,
Fabulous, brilliant, sincere, authentic,
Fascinating, extraordinary, charming,
Goodhearted, generous, peaceful,
Gorgeous, truthful, brave, courageous
Priceless, precious, wise, attractive.
So many things, that you'd probably get bored.
Simply perfect.

But I won't.



Why not?

Because I'm not brave like you,
And I'm afraid of where these words might lead.


Will you stay or will you leave?
jeffrey conyers Dec 2012
Beautiful, educated and well diverse.
These are qualities about you that people don't know too much.
You're my than a face of beauty.
Except that's all many people choses to see.

Goodhearted, loyal without a fault.
This is part of the person I come to know.
Except people refuses to see any of these.
They know you more by your beautiful face.
And that's a disgrace.
You're more than that.

Let not your looks dictates everything about.
When you're super smart.
Cause while you been blessed.
You also very talented.
Sam Conrad Dec 2013
How we learn to hate ourselves-
Some of us never do anything wrong, we are innocent souls
Taking punishment we don't deserve, whether it be neglect or abuse or misfortune
It happens when we're supposed to be growing, hitting milestones, but instead
We can't comprehend all of the things happening to us
When our fathers leave us
When our mothers abuse us
When there's no food in the house except the kind of plants you're (not) supposed smoke
That only occasionally make their way into the brownies
That you can't even eat

How we learn to hate ourselves-
Some of us make mistakes when we're older, but we're still goodhearted
But we'd just gone through some of the above, we had it really rough
We learned to like it rough and we learned to be the neglect or abuse or misfortune
It happens when its all you've known
When you feel guilty for making someone cry
When you've got a friend in need and you don't know how to care because nobody cared for you
When you tell someone else your problems are bigger than theirs and all you can think of is
That you just made their problems bigger than yours
And you can't live it down

After we learn to hate ourselves-
Some of us deliberately commit our mistakes as if we're addicted to the sadness and conflict
We become mirror images of the people we said we never would be and don't even realize it
We get the attitude of "Whatever if you hate me because I don't love you anyway"
We learn to push our loved one's buttons on purpose just like people pushed ours
When it happens we become their burden
Like when I told someone "I'm only talking to you right now because if I wasn't you'd be hurting yourself"
When you make someone else feel completely insignificant just because they misunderstood
Something stupid you mentioned
That you crush them completely


But only sometimes
Do we realize
How we learn to be
The monsters we become
Sam Conrad Nov 2013
She says I'm great
She says I'm her best friend
She says I know her better than she does

Just to tell me

"I don't think I can have you around"

To tell me

She can't stand me

When I'm telling her

She's beautiful

As a person

That she's smart

That she's goodhearted

That I'll always love her because

She's a good person

Because

Apparently

She can't "go back to yesterday"

She's such a genius it seems

How much can I say to build him up

To make him hurt again

So I can have another excuse to claim

It's his fault I'm hurting

So I can hurt him

To prove I'm really not good

So I can call myself horrible

And stop him from calling me good

Just because he needs to stop
Madeline Clow Aug 2016
In a time before people, at the dawn of man kind.
"They" were brewing us, body and mind.

A  sprinkle of wit and a pinch of good luck.
"Please pass down the emotional muck".

Some of "they" were good at what they had to do.
Some of them less exact, careless in making our stew.

Going to the extremes was a favorite of a few.
And that is why Some of us are very blue.

"Ill throw in A pinch of zest and a bucketful of sorrow, and an
Annoying tendency to always want to borrow."

"My favorite recipe is: charisma, good looks and toxic waste"
"Ya know! The ones that usually attract the goodhearted that are keen to make haste"

"And my favorite one is for the ones always pursuing what isn't meant to be"
"The recipe calls for 2 tablespoons of ambition I think i'll put in three"

Such is the talk in their heavenly sphere
Perhaps things aren't all that different down here?
This always was an acoustic gig;
A wood and wire affair
Steeped in the fresh folklore
And worn wool
Of our little streetlamp operas.

Our voices would ring rustic
(And rusted like tarnished brass)
Out open windows,
Through the rustling of haloed leaves,
And down into the streambeds of romantic recollection.

Our coffee was stiff;
Mixed with chicory
And spiked with shots
Of sure-footed tomfoolery—
But richer than our years should have allowed.

All the goodhearted ladies
And all the rye bottle boys
Would smile warm, backs reclining,
And sing out for all the years.
And we knew our songs well;

Our highways west blacktop ballads—
Our San Joaquin sunset sonnets--
Our arms-around-you-till-the-end tunes—
Our songs for new companions—
Our eulogies for our dearly departed.

Yes, this always was an acoustic gig.
But there’s no sense in penning an epilogue
To a story that’s still alive (though wounded).
So let’s continue the tale, friends,
And usher in another folk revival.
saige Mar 2018
she's a siren
in a wasteland
a tantalizing ebon-eyed angel
gloved in lacy little bralettes
cloaked by burnt hair
she lures, lulls
lashes curled
fingertips cold
while the world shifts and spins
she stays, a gravestone
her shape, the muse of every rave
from shakespeare to sheeran
skin, a minefield of goosebumps
freckles
and velvet
and that cookie cutter heart
inked into her collarbone
(i knew her before that, once)

before the toothpick cross
on her viola-neck-of-a wrist, too
plus the piercing in her naval
before those crystal charms that just dangle there
the ones her exes line up
to drop off
each april
before they slip into her bedroom
slide into those cheetah-print sheets
same ones they wove their
seeds and sweat and sins into
a handful of ages ago

amidst the haze that haunts those troops
i witness lust
a black hole masked by magnets
stained with cream-ridden coffee
reeking of mary jane and cake batter chapstick
(i gave her lip-balm for her birthday, once)

evermore and nonetheless,
armies drown themselves in
airport perfume
lilac bottles she trades her tickets for
because free spirits can't afford to both
stay in
and smell like
paris
thus, she stalls
until she passes as graceful
but zeus knows she can't settle
only lounge on her six-foot teddy bear
another birthday gift, another admirer
who isn't a secret as much as forgotten
(i almost forgot her, once)

i witness
the men on the moon march through
that war on mars, then straight into
a venus fly trap
goodhearted guys, who
could feed her the nile
from a golden spoon, who
would lasso stars and conquer nations
at her whim
become tumbleweeds
by the dozens, who
have offered that girl everything
begged her for the pleasure of ensuring
she never wants for a ****** thing
but what's it worth when all she wants is nothing?
(i kept my distance from the infection, once)

she's the one
who left her virtue in the circus
her victims in love
her past, inside plexiglass mirrors
her mother intoxicated
her father in the ground
her car crashed into a tree
but she's not complaining
she's just calling life as it happens
to waste her

(i kissed her, twice)
when i was 16

— The End —