Idealizations poems on Hello Poetry

hazel Jan 2016

Had there been a time where idealizations were accepted among the walk of reality that lie before us it may all prove to be a bit more comforting.
Where the daunting banter of voices that sat atop my conscience were able to soothe the pain of grieving without true loss.
Heartache failed to be coupled with death.
A place where we could walk hand in hand with dark, empty vessels sent to sail with a destination that is but a passing fog and direction pinpointed out by wanderlust souls.
We lie with a marker of selfishness that runs so close to the bone- etching its edges into our flesh with such vigor that one could hardly ignore, yet it sits on the back burner.

Come with me, my love, dance in my graveyard of pasts.
Take in the sights of freshly filled earth that mold itself beneath our feet as we take a gander at what was.
Here lies the spring evening under the sycamore, young hearts screaming with excitement, the way the wind intertwined among-
The nearly bare branches of autumn rest peacefully with the skin coat worn as a declaration of verses that died between clenched teeth and sealed lips.
This is the laughter worms now feed on.
Here are the fingertips and silk braced locks buried alongside one another but never to touch again.
Pay mind to the faces piling up adjacent to the stone wall, laugh lines rotting by the rise and fall of moonlight.

What a spectacle of self, is it not, dear?
We can witness blue fade to black, closing the light on this scene.
Sit here and rot beneath the sycamore tree.
Clench our hearts between our teeth and swallow messenger bottles along with them.
Never to walk in unison but let one dissipate aside the other.
Let our memories of memorized bone structure fall before our very eyes- wouldn't it be grand?

Induct this into the cemetery of past and do away with the make up of oneself.
We will let this idealization fall cold,
Watch rigor mortis seep in with such mesmeric fashion.
Tuck it away before pre-thought memories taint themselves with reality.
Lower it down under into the ever so charming embrace of wood and soil, mites and fungus.
Clean our hands of touch ever so sacred.
Let it bleed out, darling. Let it decay.
Anyway- how will we remember this when its done away with today?

Let the grieving sink in, just to coddle remembrance of nothingness.
Embrace the black holes swallowing pieces of us.
Dance among the treetops and feel the wind, when our memory dies we can truly begin.
And again,
And again.

Written January 2016

#nature #color #memory #symbolism #cemetery

ooznozz Aug 2017

Poem: NOT JUS' ANOTHER BRICK...

An empty drinking glass is pressed against a wall; amplifying the voices on the other side. My ear is pressed to the words, ”outside is a secret key” - I can honestly say, “I hear…" Your words, idealizations, sentiments, selected scrawls of graffiti-type promise and viewpoints echo through the wall. Over and over. Championing outsiders…

Are there WALLS WITHIN WALLS? Can we walk through them? ARE THE WALLS ERASABLE? Will the walls tumble down? Will the walls polarize? WHAT ABOUT CRACKS IN THE WALLS? Can they hear? Can we leap over them?

DO WE build them where everything and anything follows and flows?
DO WE build them where something's nothingness tethers vapors with souls?
DO WE build them so molecular melodies of light and dark can collide unopposed?

Are these word walls of dust? Can we move them? Can you angle between these walls? Will the walls speak a wealth of quiet surprises, poems, and meditations? Do walls give birth to improvisation?

Now some of these walls, in their moment are with no rules, self-constructed, circling dramatically, and might prove more resistant to erosion. These are often troubling walls, no voice, no strength of decency, no laughter, which place freedom at stake. That and survival. One can be easily manipulated or yanked by an image of the truth swirling in the brick blackness of the wall. Discomforts relish now. Walls such as these are very deep-rooted and passed on for generations. Yet even those barriers eventually give way once we read the super fine print etched into the wall - a word salad of B.S., idiocy and hypocrisy.

Reach for spray-paint and enlarge your wall… maybe it enhances your world now with colored aerosols of wall portraiture's that capture rebellion and mirth. So many Walls, AND SO MANY QUERIES…

I heard a poem say, “Step out from behind one (wall) and FIND YOUR REAL SELF” – or maybe it whispered “jus walk through that door in the wall.”
Your tightly strung trampoline of words has provided a springboard for me to bounce freely over the many walls we build around ourselves.

by "ooznozz"

Kalliope Jan 2019

Sea Salt and Vinegar

I'm just a bitter soul
In love with love
And my idealizations
I see your potential
Know what you could be
Push you to be your best
Know what we could be
But at the end of the night
That's not you
And my inbox is still empty

#infatuation #idealizations #love #lust #thoughts #hope #bitter

hazel Nov 2015

Days

I calculated life in days and not months or years for the fact that the important of otherwise minuscule sounding matters would sound as if it were grand. I reached for substantial representation as a reflection of the scale of enormity otherwise considerably short run instances have upheld in the 7,412 days since I was placed here.

7,412 days was enough to develop myself into the individual that I have never thought I had become. I am becoming the final forms of myself for the world to witness. I am beginning to blossom- though shriveling along the way- I am becoming beauteous and complete.
7,412 days has left me aware enough to know that
5,480 days ago I learned what loss was.
It was 5,480 days ago that I realized our minds **** more viciously than any plague lashed upon man.
5,480 days since coming to the conclusion that we are but temporary morsels of flesh on an ever-evolving plane of half-assed existing.
5,480 days since I realized that the enemy is not what we create in our heads as so it be the actions that have led us to create those idealizations.
It was 829 days later that leaving became a common occurrence in this calculated decline of my own innocence.
60 - some odd days thereafter I was led to believe it was my fault. It took another
730 days to realize that the weight of losing those close was that of had ripping my organs out with my bare hands.
898 days later I entered a
789 day torture chamber that had stripped me of every last pure portion of my existence. I wandered aimlessly with a bullet infused heart and the tattered and torn paper exterior that had served as a canvas to display the scars in which I had left to collect.
It was but 864 days until I had the slightest indication that this broken soul was of importance to anyone. I learned that believing this weight I had carried was not any fault of mine, but infractions committed by those who had set their own inner demons upon me as if they were handheld grenades and my mind was enemy territory.
It took a 40 day journey to find that for the first time I was given a sense of belonging and learned that sometimes it took coexisting souls to make sense of what our individual purpose had been all along.
I jumped aboard a 1,351 ship that had led me to places I had never ventured. I experienced rough seas only to be followed by fresh spring meadows. I had sat in the rain to appreciate how comforting the sun was as it kissed my skin ever so delicately. I had been to battle for a cause I was never sure would thank me, but when I found that it did I would have endured the fight ten times over for the bliss in which companionship contained.
4 days ago I learned that laying your entire soul out for another could still end in nothingness. The most beautiful presences can be reduced to but a deafening silence, a halting defeat.
Today is day 1 of knowing fairy tales are but compilation of half-truths.
Maybe codependency is but another word for makeshift.
I am disposable, but my soul is not.

I am as infinite as I allow myself to be.

Written June 22, 2015

#poem #heart #days #time #thoughts #writing #long #concept

aBeautifulStory Aug 2019

Confidence

Where does it all go?
The confidence that briefly existed within me disappears at the blink of an eye.
All the compliments thrown my way fly right past me.
I cant catch them; I dont want them! I dont believe them.
I see what I see & unfortunately it's not what you see
because, well,
you dont know me.
You see what you want to see --
the superficiality;
the sexuality;
not the tragedy
not the guilt
or all of the pain that exists inside me.
If only I could take all of your idealizations of me
& turn them into reality.
Then maybe the confidence would never leave me.

Carpe Stellas Mar 2020

The Life I Choose

I don’t strive for wealth or aspire for worldly fame
Recognition and popularity have never been my aim

I don’t want a life built upon such a shaky foundation
Or false dreams or realities of a blind world’s creation

My Christianity doesn’t reside in fancy temples or crowds
It’s in my heart. My heart is big and my actions speak loud

To live modest, to be gracious, kind and meek
These are my goals and the treasures I seek

Before I judge another person and put them on a shelf
I look closely at my heart to see what’s revealed about myself

I see what insight I can gain, what ways I can grow
What truth I can obtain and what mercy I can show

If looking for one who errs, I need not look beyond my own reflection
The picture’s not always so clear if it’s truth or my own projection

We all fall short and take a misguided path at times
Axes falls much swifter when it’s someone else’s crimes

It’s easy to see another’s faults from a pedestal so high
If we say we’ve never been wrong, then surely we lie

If I see myself as I truly am, the truth will set me free
To learn and grow into the person I’m truly meant to be

I can live with open eyes that are receptive and aware of the truth
It can be a hard pill to swallow and doesn’t always go down smooth

It’s a remedy for superficial masks leaving no place to hide
It’s an antidote for self-indulgence and a cure for selfish pride

Nothing I do will ever make me better than the person beside me
But I can be better than I was yesterday if its wisdom that guides me

I’m less concerned with people’s defects and more concerned with their hearts
I’d rather help people hold it together, than tear them down and pick them apart

When I forgive others and myself, we grow stronger together
Forging loving friendships that can withstand any weather

I can strengthen those around me by loving them as they are
By accepting them with their faults, failures, quirks, and scars

We are in this world together and I can love as I wish to be loved
With the tenderness of a sparrow and the gentleness of a dove

I can turn away from the temptation of unrealistic expectations
And be molded by compassion, not by ivory-towered idealizations

I can focus on seeing the goodness in others and helping those in need
I can help people grow in peace by planting peaceful seeds

It’s much less burdensome on my mind to be a helper than a judge
It’s much lighter on my conscience to hold forgiveness than a grudge

It’s much warmer to regard the cold hearted with kindness and grace
To warm their heart with love because I don’t know what troubles they face

Not in any attempt to change them, but so I, myself may be changed
So my thoughts have pure intent and my motives are well arranged

I’ll be shocked by no evil, for we are all human and frail
Evil may befall anyone at any time and no one can tell

I stand only in amazement of the great expanse of God’s arms
No one can fall below His reach to be rescued from harm

I see not with eyes mere spotlights of faults and vanity
But with eyes of compassion and love for all humanity

Just as I must look to the trees to see the wind’s effects and where it blows
To see what my life has touched, I look for the places peace freely flows

I delight in my simplicity and I have nothing to lose
This is happiness and freedom, the life that I choose

In my short life these things have I not only spoken but lived
This is all I have to offer and my gift to the world I give

#life #choices

Grey Aug 2023

Untitled

Two worlds, separate expectations.
Two soul, separate by idealizations.
One chooses family, the other isolation.
One hindered by idealism, the other by pragmatism.
Have I truly lost the one?
Is this the curse of the the ******* son?

Latiaaa Apr 24

Untitled

Deep down in the submarine depths of an abyss
Lies the burrows of your deepest desires.
Wanting togetherness but in the context of Siamese twins.
You can’t have your cake and eat it too.
Those mummified remains still haunt you in your sleep—
Obsessing over putrefied bottom fat
and Nile rivers pouring in and out.
You fornicated with women—
Felt like you bombed the village or did it just feel bomb?
Breaking sweats as if you’re a labored worker…
Save it.
Eventually you gotta meet your maker and confess.
Idealizations and fantasies can only operate off inner truth and cravings.
Only the strong willed can survive.
Everything you preach is a myth—
“ever heard of the Loc-ness monster? Boogeyman?”
Yea like those myths…
You’re a cracked out delusion of what you want to be,
Look within and speak the real you.

— The End —