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The all attractive mighty-
Blue-skinned idol deity,
Grasping all suffer and misery
Call himself The Hari.
Even a leaf can symbol a devotee
Being natkhatlal is what Maiyaa worry;
His existence is an endless rath,
Knowledge is what defines Jagannath.
The Lotus-Eyed he is-
Lord of Love whom we wish,
Charioteer to Arjuna
Raas and Kanhaiyya,
Together we say-
Hari! hari!
Star soldier with the rocket arm,
you bleed silver, gold,
and product placement.

Smile big for the camera,
the media will sell its soul
for a new bankable face.

Party hardy, Heisman candidate,
******* your semi-steady's
sorority sister,
then ask to see her again
sometime after the **** kit.

It's quite alright,
so long as you have talent
beyond this hemisphere.
Why even the fatherland, ESPN,
will gladly call you "son."
Chad Young Feb 2
As much as the **** female is central to underground society, she comes to me in my bedroom.
Those sources of her pulsate with the richness of her beauty.
How many geniuses have been subverted from thought by her.
How many have plunged into desire's depths, reliant on her picture to allay their suffering.
Without sensuality they derobe as if to go to battle. With her in one hand and their shlong in the other, they make their towel wet.
Now with their desire fed, she looks as a mere distraction.
Just another human body she is now.
Her image has been worshipped and they have found no god.
Cloudy night
Daniel Pokorny Nov 2020
Through life's toughest moment's, fantasy characters show more strength and durability than many of the people who watch and strive to be like them.
Now that's not a bad thing, in-fact it's an incredible thing to do. To better yourself to become better. But lot's of people lose motivation to keep pushing themselves. Something that the Channel Unnus Annus taught me, was that you only have a limited time to live and that death happens sooner than later.
So why must we strive to become something that we idol?
Why must people break down who they are and mold them into something that they see all the time.
Why waste the time changing who you are entirely and make yourself into some sort of Hero or perfect citizen when in the end most people will give up and end up in a worse situation (either mentally or physically) than they were before trying to be some-one else?
Don't live trying to be like someone else. I'm not saying to simply stop idolizing people or trying to be similar to them.
In-fact, what I'm saying is,
Try to be something better than what you are now, try to live like your next day is another day isn't your last, but instead, another day to learn from those idol's.
Push yourself to become better than those idol's, push yourself to become the person that YOU want to be, not a person that already exists in the mind of one other person (the creator).
Cause in the end, if you try to be just like your idol, you'll either achieve this and become someone different entirely, or you'll end up worse off than you were originally.
Many people don't know where to start, and everybody will have a different answer as to where. "Start on what you hate, work on your emotions, or start on your body". But to people who are lost in their journey, this won't always help, in-fact, it can push them further back past where they started. That person must discover their own path, their own journey.
All that matters, is that you're at the very least starting
With a simple step.
Less of a Poem and more of a thought that I wanted to get out.
Elizabeth Kelly Nov 2020
He fancies himself a cowboy
In line at the corner store
Concealed carry snug on his hip
(He secretly hopes someone gives him some lip)
The cashier hands him his change without meeting his gaze
He’s surprised and aroused.
She knows her place.

Selling your soul’s not a deal with the devil
Selling your soul is a deal with yourself
Make the choice over and over
To shake your own hand
And pretend that it’s somebody else

He fancies himself a nonconformist.
A free thinker
The sheep will all do what they’re told
And he’ll be ****** before he goes peacefully to slaughter.
It was easy, he figured it out
Demanding proof is just an excuse to hide behind doubt
A warrior,
he wields the flaming sword of truth
His wife asks a question; he breaks her front tooth.

Selling your soul’s not a deal with the devil
Selling your soul is a deal with yourself
Make the choice over and over
To shake your own hand
And pretend that it’s somebody else

Somewhere a fat man is checking the math as he’s being served lunch
Picking through numbers, looking for nibbles
He dribbles drool onto his chin,
as he dials his guy in The Caymans
His stomach is rumbling, it’s never enough!
To deepen ones pockets, one first must make cuts.

The determinant cause for the silver mine fire
Will read “Accident: faulty electrical wire; Company denies liability
per signed agreement at hire.”
And the cowboy free thinker won’t laugh at the joke,
he’ll just choke
There will be no survivors

But today, The Cowboy nurses his hate,
while Somewhere a fat man is writing the fate of the cowboy in pen,
pleased to be Great Again.

Selling your soul’s not a deal with the devil
Selling your soul is a deal with yourself
Make the choice over and over
To shake your own hand
And pretend that it’s somebody else
Shannon Oct 2020
The ice I wear is silence.
As for diamonds, I don't own them.
I save ruby for my lips.
I save swagger for my hips.
I save crystal for my gin.
And the only thing I age is grace.
As for me I grow divinity-
The sin in me,
is confidently rising as I walk into the room.
If I make you feel I'm naked
when your burden down with fur-
"What does he see in her?"
If I make you feel uneasy,
and hold him just so tighter
because my steps are lighter
although my thighs are trunks
like mighty oaks they hold me high
so I can match my Tiffany eyes
to the Tiffany sky.
Wear your silver, wear your gold.
And I'll wear nothing loud and bold.
How dare I not adorn.
Not care about your scorn?
I am the bracelet that wraps the wrist,
I am the earrings lazy laying.
Designers drape me in goddess garb
while your childish glitter is fraying.
I wear years like men wear watches-
Proud and vainly count the notches.
Watch me slither, watch me wander.
Helpless but to become fonder.
This is a statement about aging and social media and the eternal dialogue of women and value.
rmrplpr Aug 2020
I hope that you can
read between these lines
and understand
Clear your eyes
of admiration
and try
to hear this poetry
of sighs
Kyle Jul 2020
"October"
It was in October, a cold blue night.
I heard news from my friend that I could barely talk with delight.
For a moment, my heart stopped;
And my mind was blocked.

Questions keep circling in my mind.
I was locked up in darkness and begin to become like a blind.
I was blind in love and care;
And my soul almost died in thin air.

Why did she died?
I keep asking this question and feel horrified.
I tried my best to accept the truth;
And now, If I say I'm totally fine, then that would be a lie.
I still want to see her and tell her that she is very important to me and to my youth.
It was in October, the day she died.
I dedicate this to my idol who is a very important person to me. She is my strength and she inspired me a lot.
Nimrat Kaur Jul 2020
Love Maze

Through the blood and sweat I write
a wishful story you'll remember.
A flower which bloomed too soon I thought
was only my own to surrender.

A voice I once heard urged me
to speak myself and love myself.
Although I attempted to touch it
That voice I heard, was someone else.

I ran around in a pool of tears
afraid and wet from pain.
I ran around only in circles
it was a maze I wandered around in vain.

And so I heard that lonely ballad,
a voice that wasn't my own.
In my pool of tears as I searched
I realized my maze was made of stones.

"A little push, a little tug"
I heard the voice tell me.
"Is all it takes to begin the growth
of your very own journey."

I felt it's warmth was
the closest to reality.
The voice that kept on
urging me.

For when I swam ahead
instead of search, I realized
I had found my magic shop
undisguised, it vaporized...

The stones fell away
my maze was shattered.
For now I saw before me
a "love" maze, the stones were all scattered.

-Little Saint
Nolan Willett Jun 2020
I love America
But sometimes I hate the U.S.A.
How do you spin,
Blocking airways?
Two party system;Our United States,
Couldn’t give better delegates?
And I despise all of the
Idol Worship,
Trickle-down culture,
Your distractions, weapons. Change;
not an endless hunt for newer things.
When Patriotism Trumps
Common Sense,
1776,
And we Masquerade our Liberty
Confined in an invisible pillory,
And you accrue,
While we make do,
At this point, if you are asking me,
Then yes, I would prefer shared misery
To your “equal opportunity.”
“Rise, like lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number!
Shake your chains to earth, like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you:
Ye are many—they are few!”
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