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SøułSurvivør Feb 2016
~~<☆>~~

It's one thing to forgive
That is, indeed, a mark of character.

It's quite more inspiring
To forgive those

WHO DON'T FORGIVE YOU.

~~<☆>~~


SoulSurvivor
(C) 2/2/2016
Forgiveness does not come easy.
You never FORGET HOW YOU FELT/FEEL.

But it's rewarding to have something
which can never be paid for
except at great price...

P E A C E (out)

~~<☆>~~
claire Jan 2016
Girl No. 1 wears her jeans cuffed and hates everyone but the Jets. Her voice is honey-thick around biting words. Smiling does not come easy to her. She wears her face like a mask—big glasses, big eyes, big quiet. When I see her, she lifts her hand in a grim wave, delta creases in her brown palm. Her excuse for her silence is that she’s boring, but she’s not. She dots her eyes with tiny stars and listens to German orchestra whenever she can. She thinks she has buried herself well, but bits of her still protrude from the topsoil, aching to be known.

Girl No. 2 is grey flannel and deliberate sentences. Her hair covers her face, yet when she speaks about trees and animals and the hole torn in our atmosphere by ultraviolet, ultraviolent rays, she is thunder. I gave her lotion for her cracked hands one time. When we smiled at each other after, we knew at once we were part of the same club. Girl No. 2 never corrects people when they forget her name. They say Kaitlyn, Kaleigh, Katie…let the word drop as if it were no more important than a used napkin. I hate it. I pick her used napkin name from the floor and smooth it over my lap. I say it right and she replies, with perfect seriousness, thank you: Thank you for the correct pronunciation of my identity.

Girl No. 3 is a hard one. Look at her once and you’ll see Maybelline lashes and a glass-cutting face. Look twice and you’ll see more. The sag of her shoulders, the stinging weariness of posturing for people far beneath her. I startle her. I’m too inquisitive for her taste. She does not want the world knowing her mother drank three liters of ***** before driving off a bridge, that her favorite color is celery green, or that anorexia and anxiety stalked her through the halls of high school like a pair of vultures. She wants to stay in her castle of ice, but it has imprisoned her. You poet, she teases me. You right-brained heap of color and sensitivity. You’re too much. I don’t know what to do with you. I ask her who she is and she recites her answer. 130, 125, 2315. But this girl is more than her IQ, her weight, or her SAT score, and when I tell her so, her Maybelline lashes are ruined.
i have this
looming inkling
that if
you would just accept
that i am not you
and if i accept
that you are not me
we'd likely be
much happier
with one another
as well as
with ourselves-

wouldn't that be pretty ******* sweet?
is that really so outlandish?

i mean,
what if everyone is a unique character
and by being mutually okay with that
we all would get to live and share in
the most dynamic
and unfathomable
stories
many of which
never to be told
ever again?

wouldn't that be
an intrinsic aspect
of the ineffable beauty
of this fleeting, ephimeral Life?
Each of us is a character
the quality of which
is a measure of how genuine One is
to One's own character
and how recpectful One is to that of others.

Another major factor
is whether or not One's character grows and develops
and if so, how quickly in what direction(s)
and in what relation to One's environment.

The same seems true on
individual, group, cultural or global scales
and probably well beyond.
One is
the protagonist
as well as
the antagonist
in One's own Life story.

To deny this is cowardly
and narcissistic
at best
AD Sifford Dec 2015
Hello beauties, my name is Austin D. Sifford.
If I may, please spare a moment;
I've prepared some needed words.
I'll get straight down to business,
and make short this introduction.
So if your ears are not too full
let them taste this sweet concoction:

So, I take care of my hair
Keep it cool, keep from frizzin'
I hit the gym five days of seven
Just the basics, not body-buildin'
I like my clothes, rock the shades,
but I've got a major question:
Who cares* what I look like,
Why's it matter what I'm wearin',
What good is outer style
If I'm a beast behind the skin?

Too many people, is the answer, I guess
I mean it's cool, right, everyone sins
But not to me, you see, I see it different
I strive my life to conquer sin
Why?
'Cause, listen: one Man didn't
He lived every second to please our Father
So don't you try to tell me we're Self-Pleasure's sons & daughters

Why you checkin' on externals
When the heart inside's infernal?
Now, God knows I love my beanie
But if I had myself a genie
I wouldn't be wishing for a cap
Or some Levis or the Lugz
I'd be wishing for a hand to hold,
Just some love, a friendly hug
For one to show me that they care
For a heart that's not afraid to dare
To be a better man within

I'd rather shine behind the skin

We don't need cash, and I don't want bling
No-- what we need, people, is a reason to sing
We need a Savior, man,
We need a bigger plan
I hope you'll understand this,
Guys, we've gotta take his hand

The world will never be happy
With shirts at three-hundred fifty
That ring may give you style
But what gives hope to your child?
Does your house? Does your car?
Do his toys? Or does his father?

Look I'm not trying to bother,
I ain't just here to preach
But you're flashing those ******, tanning at the beach
Ladies, where is your beauty?
On your skin? They just leech,
you know? Those guys all over,
they don't care about you,
just wanna know what you will do

It's time you wake up, and shake up
All this fake-up with your make-up
The jewel is in your heart,
and, girl, it's been there from the start

Look what Hollywood's paying, guys,
Now I'm not playing, right?

Now people are killing,
they're serial
While your just obsessing
with material

Hey media, whatchyoo saying'?
Sell your lies to the world
But I'M NOT PAYING

People, ask what matters here,
While you look in the mirror
Who's the preacher?
Go in deeper
You buy what they sell
You wear what they tell

But is it really worth it all
Is there Botox in Hell?

We've gotta ask ourselves
Really ask yourself
Where will I be taking
All these trends and this wealth?

What I'm saying: this is bogus
All this fashion hocus pocus
What you need is to refocus
And don't let society choke us

Now you've got an empty feeling
And your culture keeps on stealing
Your sinking deeper and deeper
While your cost just gets steeper

But wealth's not found inside your wallet
And it's about time someone called it
Happiness is only found when the masks all hit the ground
Don't live up to what they say,
You won't reach that anyway
The heart is what needs fixing
Not your hair, drop the bags
Tell the truth, show some love--
now that, my friends, that's swag

Let's get rich, people, let's get beautiful
Let's get real, and let's get valuable

Now listen to this, you People Mag
Seventeen, yo, this is rad:
Happiness is found one place
One thing will put a smile on that face,
All sorrow gone, without a trace
It's the love and the Truth
That will set you free
True class created you
Real value lives in me
| Written on, or sooner than, February 6, 2012 |

**Story**
I've never been popular. I'm also very short, so have often been made fun of as the small one. The weak one. And I've certainly never been popular with girls.
In high school, I began weightlifting, took a fitness & strength class, and did parkour. I started getting pretty muscular, and could impress guys in the weightroom who were way bigger than me, because of how much I could lift in comparison to my size and body-weight. I like to show off with backflips, handsprings, etc. A few girls were finally attracted to me. A female friend of mine said she liked how "buff" I was and that she was impressed. It felt good to finally have something, to finally not be the loser, I guess. To finally, maybe, be valuable in the eyes of some of my peers.
I found myself looking at my growing physique too much, and worrying about my hair too much...putting too much effort into making myself externally attractive.
I was a devout Christian at this time, and my constant attempt to grow spiritually and have a "relationship" with God really started to remind me that the outside isn't what matters, and isn't where my focus of improvement or of beauty should be. What I put the spotlight on for others to should, instead, be the things with real, lasting value.
While that stuff was in my mind during this time, the moment that actually sparked the poem was while talking with a friend (over text) whom I cared about like a sister. She was very insecure, and was reading Seventeen Magazine during our conversation, soaking up more destructive lies. My protective nature angered me for her sake and got me thinking about how the popular media has damaged us with its influence in all these ways, so I sat down and wrote this poem on the spot, after explaining to her why I wish she wouldn't read those. I then sent it to her. Her name's Markay.

**Trivia**
The intro was not written with the rest of the poem. I added it over a year later, on March 10, 2013.
I originally had this titled "True Value". My last line says "real value". Why did I then call the poem "true value"? Beats me.

© 2017 A.D. Sifford.
I'm okay with you sharing my poems, but I ask that you show courtesy. Please be honest about the authorship by attributing it to my name. Thank you,
- Sifford
karen dannette Nov 2015
I'm watching you as you watch me
It's breaking my heart to see you cry constantly.
WE have had memories that no one can take away
Even if I left right now, I want you to be ok.

These white walls are screaming and the nurses don't even care.
Feeling so lucky just to have you here.
The drip of the medicine slowly killing me
I only pray for it to be quick, if it is to be.

Life is short like a piece of sand on this beach.
Relationships and building character is what we should seek.
In one hundred years of advancement, we've taken ten steps back.
Perfect love and kindness is what we often lack.

We act so much better than the animals we cage.
Then wonder why mother nature is pouring out her rage.
The earth was freely given with more than enough to supply
When I think of the greed and selfishness, it makes me want to cry.

We are all so worried about what happened in the past.
If we don't start living in the present, our race will not last.
Instant gratification and materialism and power for a false sense of pride.
Are we ever going to adapt and evolve and stop the constant lies.

Friendships that last are hard to find
It takes a lifetime to truly appreciate the genuine kind.
We've been given a brain we are too lazy to use
It's like we're playing a game, in order to win, we have to lose.

My breath is now rattling out of my chest
Maybe now, my soul will finally be at rest.
When I stand at the gates of judgement, I'll smile.
Cuz life only lasts a second, but eternity is a very  long while.

Advice from beyond the grave and back
Love everyone, even those who hurt you, even if they don't love you back.
For the real test of character and spirit within you
Is forgiveness, kindness and always being true.

Meditate, reflect and do your best at everything
Time runs out so fact, you don't even notice it.
So stay the course and on the right path, whatever you do
Never say never, don't give up and be one of the chosen few.
NeroameeAlucard Nov 2015
Belle

belle laid beside me, exhausted we both were after she finished riding me
she took a drag of the menthol again, she always did.
"You can't keep ******* and going like this"
You really want me to, flaws that you know and abhor to commit?"
"yes, you may not be perfect but you treat me with respect, which is more than what everybody else taught me to expect."
"But just yesterday you snapped at me for botching something nice."
“Yeah i Jump down your throat a lot, so to your ego apply cold ice"

Belle is a nice lady, but she’s got a very messed up past
she’s been cheated on, broken hearted, and been dropped on her ***
but she’s got a good soul, but her sense of affection’s gone cold
but you can still se that desire for happiness in her eyes

i guess you could say i won the nobelle prize?
She left last night, said i couldn’t be assed to commit,
so she took her stuff and split.
****… i guess belle is gone,
well, she jumped downn my throat a lot, so maybe there’s a blessing in the storm
I'm not sure where belle came from, but she's nice
Atop the frail ego she mounts her merciless machine gun with which she mows down any speckle of personality that dares flicker amongst her immediate surroundings, until only her presence alone can remain untarnished and unfettered by sadistic, sardonically summarized ridicule, luminous and majestically radiating with solitary supremacy. Oh, the splendorous grandeur of self-indicted superiority, the rush of power and authority from diminishing another's essence with ruthless categorical association, the incomparable ecstasy of using their own positive attributes as their rudimentary flaws. Viscerally volatile, the cocking of the mocking gun's hammer is to be recognized as the phrase "You're just trying to be__". This is critical, for all too well she knows to a certainty that at the most essential level, one is only simply trying to be. And when you attack a person's will to try, their will to be, then you are taking aim at the one vital aspect of their existence which they hold any discernible dominion over: their character. The slaying is heinous and orgasmically fulfilling, for how can the perennial, separatist worship of Self be indulged in among so many of these "others"? But oh how exhausting it must be, the perpetually cyclic nature of the task. How can she ***** a light that doesn't exude from a distant source, but is a brother beam of the source they share? How does she extinguish the reflection of a flame off the water? Like fireflies on summer nights they disappear only to reappear again, somewhere else, reminding her of the irrevocable, irreducible power of being born and reborn again in the new moment. The self-aware *******, audacious enough to love themselves. How much of it do they really think they can withstand?
Reload.
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