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badwords Dec 2024
A rigged game for losers
Who like to win
I enjoyed the conciseness of the previous write. reflecting upon it again today, it read like a lyric. I decided to try to write a song out of a collection of short poems one verse at a time.

Previous: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4925923/consequence/

Don't worry, I still hate haikus!
badwords Nov 2024
I bleed out for people
Who like to swim.
I enjoyed the conciseness of this write. After reflecting upon it later, it read like a lyric. I decided to try to write a song out of a collection of short poems one verse at a time.

Next:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4926504/luck/
badwords Nov 2024
No storm will part for you.
No sky will split to lend its hand.
The world does not pause for prayers,
nor shift its weight to ease your burden.
You walk, or you don’t.

Power sits silent—
not in clouds or distant thrones,
but in the rhythm of your blood,
the grit of your teeth,
the steadiness of your tread.

The stars may hang as guides,
but they will not steer.
Their light is yours to chart,
their meaning yours to claim,
or ignore.

No force bends the wind to your need.
It moves as it always has,
carrying whispers, not answers,
and leaves the echo
for you to shape.

Your hands are the mapmakers.
Your feet know the ground.
The weight on your shoulders is yours
to shed or carry.
The climb begins and ends with you.

Do not wait for fire
to burn a path.
Do not ask the storm to clear.
The path is only yours
when you forge it.
Don't wait, do!
badwords Nov 2024
Alone, at 'home'. A day, unpaid.
Bills to atone, fiscally afraid.
Debt of two, now on one.
Payments due, nothing 'fun'.

Survival, not 'thriving'.
OT windfalls--budget conniving.
Choices made. Austerity seeps.
The bed is laid, time to sleep.

Hardship evoked, no regrets
Deals revoked, struggle I beget
Conscious clear, I did my best.
For dollars, fear. Portents to attest.

But this is me.
Limited vocabulary.
Vernacular simplicity.
Self-imposed repository.

The Idiot with history.

The fool doling out the same lines.
An unaware pantomime.
To succinctly find.
Another pre-used rhyme.

(Look it up)

Burn me at the stake, another fake.
Dream, do not wake. For goodness sake
I take and take. Little do I make.
'Images' I bake. In my tower, I quake.

I fear the truth; I am no better than no one.
I fear abuse. A lofty status--position not won.
I grab and I steal, to broker this deal
Better to feel, a fantasy over what is real.

My efforts contrived, come as no surprise.
To open eyes, importance implied.
This flippant disguise cannot hide--
Ego paralyzed, Meaning subsidized.

---

I sit alone in this place, a history to trace.
Accountability's lace. Consequences to face.
I made my decision, in our division.
A better vision, self-inflicted incision.

To heal what is not well
.
Synopsis:
This poem reflects the aftermath of a toxic relationship, highlighting the speaker’s struggle with financial strain, emotional solitude, and the unfulfilled promise of shared responsibility during the separation. Beyond the hardships imposed by external circumstances, the piece turns inward, focusing sharply on the speaker’s role in their current situation. It critiques patterns of behavior, unrealistic expectations of others, and decisions that contributed to their predicament.

The poem doesn’t shy away from self-reproach, acknowledging the ways in which ego and flawed perceptions have clouded judgment. By recognizing these patterns, the speaker attempts to take accountability for their part in the dissolution of the relationship, even as they face the unfair burdens left behind. The tone alternates between vulnerable introspection and stark self-awareness, offering a candid reflection of personal responsibility.

Artist's Intent:
The poem’s intent is to confront the consequences of self-made choices and the speaker’s complicity in creating their own hardships. It does not seek sympathy but instead uses poetic expression to dissect and own the behaviors and expectations that have led to this moment. By holding a mirror to their own actions, the speaker underscores the importance of accountability, even in the face of external betrayal. The work ultimately serves as a reminder that growth often begins with the willingness to confront and critique oneself, no matter how painful the process.
badwords Nov 2024
How do you write?
You scarcely know—
A tide of self,
A shallow flow.

Humility’s mask,
Yet smugness blooms.
Words claiming depth
But filling rooms—

With echoes of "me,"
And truths self-proclaimed,
While privilege sings
Unrecognized, untamed.

"Stay out of trouble,"
The simplest creed,
From hands unsoiled,
Unaware of need.

To hold the heart,
To "worship" deep,
Yet gaze from towers
Where suffering sleeps.

You name life’s woes,
Its "beauty and pain,"
Yet ache for applause,
Not the broken chain.

Truths wrapped in ribbons,
So neatly spun.
Words dance for mirrors,
Blind to the sun.

A masterpiece, you say,
Not life—but "you"?
Oh, human spirit,
What hubris ensues!

For art is not
A throne to ascend;
It breathes for others,
Not self to defend.

The day is yours,
But whose lives are waste?
Speak not for all—
Your truth is misplaced.

In Shakespeare’s shadow,
Your pen takes flight,
But art is no pedestal;
It is the fight.

So, hold your words,
And hold them true:
Not just for self,
But for all who view.

Let privilege fade,
Let self be small—
And only then,
Your art stands tall.
Just what the 'Doctor' ordered.
badwords Nov 2024
Amid the clamor of self-assured minds,
Where the knowing parade their truths refined,
A quieter echo hums, profound and true:
The wisdom of those who confess, "I don't know."

Socrates walked where shadows spoke,
Challenging sages with questions that broke
The fragile veneer of their certain lore—
Truth's light reveals we know far less, not more.

To claim "I know" is to build a wall,
A citadel guarding knowledge small.
Yet cracks appear where hubris reigns,
And truth escapes through humility's pains.

The unknowing few, with open eyes,
Gaze past the clouds of prideful lies.
They ask, they doubt, they sift, they weigh,
In search of dawn where night holds sway.

Euthyphro claims divinity's hand,
Yet falters when truths shift like sand.
Crito pleads for escape to the day,
But justice demands the law's heavy sway.

Phaedo weeps at the prison’s gate,
Yet Socrates drinks the hemlock of fate.
In questions that turn the soul to flame,
The unknowing walk a nobler aim.

To know is to cease, to doubt is to grow;
The river flows where the winds dare blow.
For wisdom, dear friends, begins to take flight
Not in the sun, but in yearning for light.
Another one spun in a mutual dialog.
badwords Nov 2024
It ain’t over yet,
Falling through the jagged depths—
Rock whispers, "Begin."
Written ins reply to:

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4922299/the-fall/

I HATE HAIKUS....

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4857198/obligatory-haiku/

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