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saranade Jan 2022
physically I have no symmetry
and it doesn’t even bother me
my physical state is electrical
and internally I am symmetrical

a love so big it's my counterpart
symmetrically matching my flesh parts
an existence created as a work of art
able to outsmart any black heart

understanding this duality
is the best of you loving the best of me
and I believe you will get there eventually
to your own symmetrical mentality
taking on the construct of what is socially deemed as beautiful
chitragupta Mar 2019
What genre of music do you like?

What to declare
My love for soulful old melodies
Or pragmatic modern beats?
For there is no room for error here

I am but a simpleton
As far as I am concerned
There exists just two genres -
The one I love and the one I don't.
When you are asked as a socially awkward person about your musical taste, a war in your mind to make a good impression, to avoid being charged with oddity in your taste but then, you like what you like, you hate what you hate.

PS. Sorry for the looooooooooooong title, but the heart gets the better of the mind this time :)
this cautious man (bobby jean) born in the u.s.a.

grownin’ up in the badlands of atlantic city

bonded with blood brothers

felt born to run along backstreets

in brilliant disguise that did cover me

frequently blinded by the light

of the full moon

casting silhouettes against darkness on the edge of town

which lunar shafts pierced candy’s room

while immersed in book of dreams

describing better days on a Cadillac ranch

where devils & dust - visible dancing in the dark

celebrating like calendar showered 4th of july

or other glory days in darlington county

even though I ain’t got you.

livin’ in the future

mine hungry heart hankered and felt like I’m on fire

for you, this fire in me craved human touch

desire - roaring into the ole factory fire

because I wanna marry you

because the night populated

with girls in their summer clothes

each dazzling like 57 channels (and nothin’ on)

in imagination of my american skin

descended from when adam raised a cain

before last to die forecasting kingdom of days

now dwelling in celestial mansion on the hill.

now rightfully claim status of I’m a rocker/

local hero and I’m goin’ down

meeting across the river

if I should fall behind

on the downbound train as living proof

within light of day magic jungleland

policed by highway patrolman i.e. johnny 99

alias johnny bye bye – held up without a gun

defending this lucky town

established on Matamoras banks

from an incident on 57th street

thus celebrated as local hero every independence day

when with ****** incorporated

firing point blank out in the street

that staccato new york city serenade

from no surrender outlaw pete

originally from nebraska.

it’s hard to be a saint in the city open all night

within my hometown

once my father’s house, now my city of ruins

where tis moot to ask does this bus stop at 82nd street?

one step up

into the pink Cadillac

hops the ramrod queen of the supermarket

teasing audio dials sans radio nowhere

a red headed woman

racing in the street toward secret garden

to save my love – with thee

angel rosalita (come out tonight)

offering reason to believe

roll of the dice real world

and to prove it all night

from spare parts – shards of roulette wheel

housing souls of the departed

please save my love and stolen car

for sherry darling – that spirit in the night

she’s the one among souls of the departed

no longer stopped by state trooper

precinct based along streets of philadelphia

some crackling like streets of fire

straight time mandate for those armed to the teeth

along tenth avenue freeze-out.

requiem per terry’s song – what love can do

accompanied by e street shuffle

performed in somber tones

rumbling down thunder road

for souls of used cars

two hearts crushed

along this hard land

for: the ghost of tom joad

the last carnival homage

to wild billy’s circus story

the price you pay when you’re alone

working on a dream

now wreck on the highway.

we take care of our own from youngstown

when heading of to the promised land

the rising distant mystical eden

where you can look (but you’d better not touch)

espying the river of salvation

joining eternally the ties that bind

a tunnel of love

or like the wrestler

pinning opponent tougher than the rest

like laborers working on the highway

chiseled like this hard land!
Ma Cherie Jan 2017
Please poet don't you mind me,
if I always say the wrong thing,
it seems I've no control,
don't need for you to remind me
of the song that I must sing,
my heart has one desire,
in joyness that it will bring,
bring it... to you,

I have no real intentions,
but I got lotsa lotsa apprehensions,
no good ones and no, no, no bad,
when I do it  hey say they all "wrong",
well it makes me feel soooo so so so,
on a primrose path as I go on along
I wish we all
could just feel...
g L a D,
an sing the same same song,

Hey an I look very normal,
whatever that means - they say,
replaying my life,
into painful new scenes each an every,

I might wear a bright side smile,
& seem just so happy to you,
I guess I look very young,
"they" say & hey maybe that is true,
so... WhAt???

It's not that hey I'm stupid,
cuz my IQ is pretty high,
an I ain't in love with cupid,
but it maybe part the realist reason,
in my question of how & why,
I hold out my waiting hands,
an lay my head down to cry,
an cRy,

Hey helpless is how I,
please forgive me,
please cuz I,
I feel like this is real,
it takes me away,
my mind there to steal,
I'm trying to pull away,
in the layers that I peel,

I always, I have wondered,
why I didn't quite fit in,
I felt that it a curse,
by some nasty hateful jinn,
it feels just like a top,
caught up endless in a spin,
but at least now hey I know,
it's not I'm  living here in sin,
seems I'm in this  battle,
with the odds that I won't win,
please I don't mean to beg,
but please won't you be a,
Can I,
yeah me?
Begin ..

I wonder yeah I wonder if I ever find my way,
or if I'm cursed to walk on,
to walk on,
walk on here all alone,
no matter where I go,
no matter where I ever,
roam .. haunts me....
      it haunts me.....
It taunts me ....
this thing,

An whatever the case may be,
be it fate or maybe even that ol' desTiNy,
understanding my pain
will help me to be free, as they say,
please..just open your eyes,
please can't you just see?

Hey hey... an hey hey,
hey hey,
hey there,
any way,
which way?

I try and I try,
I wish you,
to just help me...
to... understand,
but somehow soooo elusive,
it just s l i pppp ssss...right..
through... my ..empty....waiting ....

Cherie Nolan © 2016
Am I more than socially awkward? Ugh.... sometimes this is how it feels. I don't know about labels.... ❤
Crystal June Dec 2016
We don't mention the monsters in the closet.
We don't talk to our imaginary friends.
Just because we don't acknowledge what we shouldn't,
Doesn't mean that they were never really there.

Keep it to yourself,
Reality is now.
Keep it to yourself,
For creativity is the modern day insanity.

Don't believe in things that aren't allowed to exist.
Even your own two eyes can lie sometimes.
Am I allowed to exist?
Can you believe in me?
Do you believe in me, baby?

We don't mention the monsters in the closet.
We don't talk to our imaginary friends.
Just because we don't acknowledge what we shouldn't,
Doesn't mean that they were never really there.

What have you seen?
What part of your soul did you shut down today?
Don't you think it's more insane to ignore what is glaringly true
Than to feign a logical existence?

There's more to the picture,
Some missing piece to the puzzle of reality.
Growing up is growing old.
Don't die with your childhood.

Keep it to yourself,
Reality is now.
Keep it to yourself,
For creativity is the modern day insanity.
I'm not quite sure if this is a song or a poem -- you decide.
CastorPolydeuces Sep 2016
I grew up weird.
Both fast, and painfully slow.
I understood everything and nothing.
Socially, I started confident and grew awkwardly
first in the sun, then bending away from such bright attentions. Academically I started out running, always ahead,
always the best, the brightest. Straight As and
mismatched clothes, socially lost
yet somehow showing
'great potential'.

Now I've learned a lot.
All blacks and grays, I've finally
mastered at least a portion of my shortcomings
but its too late. Because I've grown up and its shifted again
analytically I see it, can emulate it, but it isn't
familiar or comfortable, it took me
years to catch up and I'm
still behind.

I've grown up weird.
Cheyenne Mar 2016
Borrowed words: all to describe
Stolen moments, rented time.
Diction that I now transcribe.
A story that's not wholly mine.

In my bed I sleep; I dream.
Surrounded by walls that seem
Adequate to serve my needs.
But these walls weren't built for me.

The walls have ears--the ceiling, eyes.
Speak through our tongues--our own demise.
Nowhere is there now to hide,
For I (and you) am a loyal spy.

Woven into fabric rendered
To fulfill some view of splendor.
But no one here can remember
Why we stitch torn cloth together.

Too short, too tall, too weak to handle;
Must reinforce to insure it's ample.
But how can I shatter what is fragile
If I am what I wish to dismantle?
JDK Dec 2015
Social cues are common,
and should be hard to miss.
I find that social cues are oft -
hang on a second, I gotta take a ****.
* * *
What was I saying? Oh, right.
Social cues are awkward,
but I grew up in a weird environment.
I think that was his subtle way of asking me to leave . . .
Kenshō Oct 2014
Come home they said,
In nostalgic pull, Returned
From which once was fled

Cast afar from the herd,
Stranded and wandering
Was the one of himself,
Kept solemn and stern.

Wise like the hills,
Dignified like the trees;
His breathe spoke of wind
And mind open as day.

Sat a ghost of society,
Yet alive like no other.
Garden fresh, he ate like a king.
Crisp, the gods and skies cried for his thirst!

He was truly unornamented
And lived of simple antiquity.
Honest and genuine,
He had no one to impress.

He was bound free
And breathed of air deep.
He worked like a slave
Yet rested like a King.

This is the person you ignored;
The one that passed you by.
He is of no one on the outside
Yet holds a Kingdom of no other, secretly inside..
Mokomboso Aug 2014
Eyes like the bulb of a lazer pen
Burning a hole through my head
Evaluate its contents
My pupils are the keyhole with which your lense unlocks
Never seen an ***** so offensive  
It's friendly and proper to meet your gaze
Surely it's more benign to read your lips?
Hell no
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