Christopher Aston
Christopher Aston
20 hours ago

If my psychi were a body of its own
My melancholy would be the eyes
running like a broken faucet
a stream of confused
My anger would be the heart
beating deep in my chest
harder and harder as if trying to
My lonliness would be the belly
deep with hunger that seems
My ambitions would be the bowels
a canal of waste moving downward
a perpetual flow of filth
I sift through my own feces in hopes of finding something
worth keeping
Something worth doing until
The Inevitable punchline
to a bad, fucking, joke.

In a similar vein to my previous poem, "Steve Austin" which isn't about the wrestler by the way.  Naming conventions are fun to play around with haha
#anger   #bad   #mind   #escape   #emotion   #body   #loneliness   #inevitable   #mentality   #ambiton  
Moushmi Mehta
Moushmi Mehta
4 days ago

Lakes and oceans and blue seas
All alike your body waves
Transitioning every second
Holding whales by your knees

Mountains and cliffs and hills
Ginormous how your body weighs
Descending every second
Shaking hot lava off for thrills

Galaxies and planets and stars
Cuddling your minute existence
Plummeting every second
Making forever feel like daunting hours

Us and me and you
Destroying nothing and everything
Perceptive every second
In constant debt to our bodies that's due

#love   #sad   #life   #world   #meditation   #perception   #body   #laugh   #grateful   #wishful  
Delta Swingline
Delta Swingline
6 days ago

Your average human body has hair, a head, arms, legs, a torso, hands and feet, eyes, ears, a brain and heart...

But if my body is made of music, are my arms mallets? Are my legs the legs of a piano?

Is my heart the drum that my feet will always follow? The metronome that my body will always follow?

Is my DNA coded in sheet music?

Are my hands the baton? Are my fingers the keys? Is my spine a xylophone, each vertebrae a singular key?

Fact: The average human body will eventually narrow down to only 207 bones. Are my 207 bones each a separate instrument? All part of the orchestral body,

--This STAGE!

If they say music never dies, do I die?

Does my soul live on generations after I am gone? Will people still remember me?

If my body is made of music...

Will you still listen?
Even if the song is over?

This playlist isn't over yet...

And the world fell to knees
seeking grace how
our love proceeds
Everyone shouting big
their mouths
either revolution
either crise

I was thinking to write of life, I donot prefer to be categorized
#of   #the   #body   #modern   #era   #kaisser   #elize  

When everything begins to bottle up
I must bring myself down
I could smooth out the wrinkles
I could mantra things out
But I am my own worst enemy
So I pick, prod, and poke
I especially like to highlight my flaws
During these times
Twisting and contouring my body
Unnatural poses for a natural body
I am so trivial
But I am my own worst enemy
I wonder if you think I'm beautiful
I am vain that way
Aren't we all?
I wonder if you see my flaws
The dents in my skin
I wonder if you cherish them
If you wish for them to be gone
If you wish I was more like her
I want to scream at this woman I have become
But I am my own worst enemy
It would just be so much easier to live
A life full of confidence and crop tops
High waisted shorts with cellulite
An inch of skin hanging over the top
And why not?
My own judgments and insecurities
I want to be your friend
I want you to be happy
When your thighs feel full and swollen
When your face is scattered with imperfections
When your stomach can't suck in anymore
I am still here
I so desperately want to be your friend
But I am my own worst enemy

#body   #size   #women   #thighs   #shape  

Words like water,
oh how the speech can delay.
Dripping eloquent but lost to rivers,
indulged in deluge,
overwhelmed in expression, comments and decree.
I want you here,
oceans away.

How can I touch the chatter,
be diluted in a voice.
Move me with your extract,
alluded, trembling from afar.
Waking up to different sides of the moon
I need you here,
sunshines away.

and the blades from petals still stabbed
like it was torture
though it crumbled in effect
why the trouble for pistol flowers
when aching is within a splinter.

Something so beautiful,
lost to an operating system.
Quiet rumbles, not big enough
to make a sound.
Even if I screamed,
my vocals typed to characters,
you would not,
could not hear my strain.

our love it blooms.
Flourished in email, video plays, stills.
Across the ocean I came,
to wake up in the sunshine,
with the moon at our side.

Sprouting up new love,
greater than we thought equip.
Even through storms, snow, rain,
I am ecstatic here,
your body I call my house,
your smile I call my home.

Copyright Tessa Calogaras
#love   #home   #relationships   #sex   #body   #distance   #technology   #long   #moving   #email  

or varicose veins
to those doctors definitists with or without them
me i call mine “disconcerting” and “homely” they are not
the result of poor diet
lack of exercise a weak heart
or a passive cardiovascular system
but of heritage and pedigree and
a genetic lottery i did not win
up the inside of my thighs crawl pale distorted crags
and newborn ruddy lightning
a bloodied patchwork of stretch marks that drag
themselves up to the cradle of my pelvis
and wrap clumsy arms around my hips
my legs await the distortion and corruption of time
yet at seventeen have already begun their heady work
long twisting and sickly a grotesque lace
of my veins pushes through bland mole speckled skin
to emerge disgusting and putrid
like the terrors of children’s nightmares
terrifying not for tooth and nail
but the rotten repulsive pelt
my mental soliloquy before my audience (the mirror)
is a series of silent pleas and malcontented muttering
would that i were slimmer there thinner here
more graceful and pleasing to the idle eye
smooth skinned and dewy eyed
not thick and tired and slow
a little more color and vigor to sallow white skin
more beauty more beauty more beauty more beauty more beauty
i tell myself my self conscious vanity my self disgust
is a product of patriarchy and objectification
that i am and always will be a mind not a body
that if i let myself be this way i am shallow
and conceited and vain and no amount of arguing with myself
will decrease my superficial nature if i care about appearances
dressing up is a way of making myself externally attractive
and hiding the internal eternal abyss
the eyeliner attempts
are only a way to draw eyes to mine because i want them to look
into these innervated wastelands and see something attractive
but i am falling into that abyss of shallow
existence and slipping into a weak and meaningless soul
that can be washed away in the flood of the masses
read jung and freud tear through sun tzu and nietzsche and forget
about the poor player who struts and frets their hours upon the stage of life
who wanted to be pretty
wanted to know beauty
wanted to dig into themselves
and come up with fistfuls of worth

#self   #girl   #beautiful   #beauty   #girls   #woman   #body   #image   #women   #esteem  

Men ‘love’ with their Muscles
Women with their hearts
This leads to some confusion
Sharing body parts!

When penis asks Vagina
“Are you coming out to play?”
She wants some kind of guarantee
He’ll not thrust, then run away!

When he presents his love stick
Pretty it is not!
So, if a girl accepts it
She must like you a lot!

So tidy up your quiver bone
Keep your flesh tower fresh
Spice up your wee sausage
She’ll sort out the rest!

Mar 8

I don’t want to be called pretty, don’t want to be thought of as pretty, don’t want to be pretty.
I’ve wasted so many years of my life trying to be pretty, skinny, girly, cutely, and another box of labels i tried to fit onto my ragged skin to no avail

Don’t call me pretty. Don’t call me cute.
I’m not.

I’m smart. I’m thoughtful. I’m kind. I’ve got softness hidden in the bottom of my heart and I’m proud it stuck with me for this long.

I’ve got tired happy eyes and a round nose and hair unruly, soft curves and thick thighs.

I’ve got scars that show I’m more than skin and bones, scars to prove I’m a survivor, a warrior. Scars to prove I’ve never given up.

I’m not pretty. I never will be.
And you know what?
I’ve never been more content than the moment i realised

i am enough.
without your labels, without your compliments, without your back-handed insults or catcalls.

i am enough.

i'm not a label, not a demographic. i'm just a person.
#poetry   #content   #free   #body   #positive   #tired   #verse   #enough   #freeverse   #pretty  

I'm proud of you for putting an end to the war you were having with yourself. You've grown so much as a person in the past year. You've truly found yourself, and I'm proud of you for loving every single inch of who you are. You've deserved this peace within yourself for so long, don't let this peace leave your mind. Protect it. treat your body and mind like it is a lovely piece of art.

#love   #self   #life   #breath   #mind   #joy   #body   #grateful   #positivity  
To comment on this poem, please log in or create a free account
Log in or register to comment