I’m no longer a little pup.
In all aspects, I’ve grown up.
Self reliance is not a right to me.
It’s a requirement, what I have to be.
I am largely independent. I hate relying on people or even things. One of my pet peeves is when people assume I can’t do something on my own.
A reflection is shadow made of light.
I look at myself. “Who you trying to fight?“
You know he’s crooked cause his head is cocked.
His past is in flames, he’s a hellion.
That’s why he don’t hear what they be tellin him.
He hears his own music.
He let’s it in, he grooves it.
It flows through his body when he moves it.
You can always be happy if you choose it.
Listen to the dope beats
and keep a couple close to your throne seat.
It’s emotion in wave form. There is no rawer art
or rarer reward. For if you truly listen
changes will start in the you-est you.
I was shocked too but I swear, it’s true.
All sorts of things will change you, if you let them.
be your own anchor
learn to sail your own sea
leave behind what has hurt you
welcome what makes you feel free
be your own light
Me, myself, and I
Life is like the sun
It goes up and down and around
and bad days
I trust myself and know my place
Outside of society
as it is a danger to all
I must think for myself
and not conform as they do
The world’s opinion is not my own
And thus need not be acknowledged
Like Galileo and Newton
I am misunderstood
but I know who I am
Fortune is my friend
and is with me
but I am all I need
This is a section of a poem I made last year for my IOP and it's based on a transcendentalist essay! Hope you enjoy!
"Stop yelling at me," I tell the walls,
as if they were the culprit.
Stop keeping time with my fingernails,
tracing squares in chalkboard wallpaper.
I have forgotten you.
If only you would forget me.
You trace lines on my skin,
Like a cartography of forgotten myth.
"Don't tell me what to think."
You don't own me.
"Don't tell me how to feel."
That is a priviledge you no longer possess.
"Leave me alone,
Leave me be.
I used to think that all I wanted
was someone to love me,
someone to give me all their
warmth and trust and sympathy.
The more I sit here in this
empty room beside a window,
the more I realize that that
kind of life ain't meant for me.
I'm making friends with all the
shadows climbing on my rooftop,
and I hear music in the leaves
that rustle in the wind.
And I dont need no pity, girl,
I kinda like the struggle.
Like feeling 'round for the doorknob
when the lights are dimmed.
Each day someone will call and
offer me a new solution,
and while I do respect the
depths of their true concern,
they have to realize solitude
and silence both are virtues -
but that's a lesson that I
hope they never need to learn.
purdah (noun) - a state of seclusion or secrecy, often self-imposed.
Written in the style of "Solute Your Solution" by The Raconteurs.
Sometimes I trust my instinct,
but it tells me to do things in ways
that no one dares
It can implore me there,
to take paths no one walks
I fear the fresh footsteps I make
on the new brick road
I'm a social animal, a human;
doing what others do seems the right
thing to do
Once you're a bit different, society condemns
They raise an eyebrow, they don't give
But I've seen great people do great things
Because they had faith in their instincts.
They have the drive to keep going,
To try and even fail.
I'd very much like to do the same,
At least I have real
control over my own doings.
If I succeed, I have only my instincts to celebrate.
If I fail, I have only my flaws to blame.
Everything under my possession,
Ne te quaesiveris extra, as they say
It's your life to do, your life to bear.
No one can save me
I'm cornered, anxious
The clock is
My racing heart
No one can save me,
My pillow is rugged
Keeps the prairy world
From flooding in
No one can save me,
I'm hesitant, indignant
But I'm determined
No one can save me,
Turned to stone
Colors fade everyday
Wear a smile
Memories to get through
I can get lost finding you
Life Without Resentment
Nearly everyone has stored
among hardbacks and paperbacks
or dusty mental drawers
resentments, gathered incidentally
by rubbing shoulders
with ingrates and other
Meeting her, she exudes
an excitement for what is said
while displaying an openness
that disallows any acrimony
indignation or animosity
No bitterness is harbored
nor rancor secreted
among the ruins
of her disappointments
the past is forgiven and forgotten
Not apprehensive or perturbed
she treads in this moment
with the power of living in the present
no longer feeling victimized
She lives refreshed, restored
My impression of someone I know who now seems free of resentment