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There are those who’d curse the paintings
That held the highest beauty
For being formed from something
Impermanent as oil and paint
Intangible as light.

There are those who’d curse a romeo
Cast in stone relief
For such vanity, and hubris
For how could such a man
Begin to know such beauty and
The truth of open feeling?

There are those who would cut this holy wire
That tethers us across the world
For fear of some lurking evil
Some banging in the dark
That’s bound to take our souls away
Some lack of love or depth

There are those who’d see the flesh on flesh
And cries like angelsong
And **** it for it’s fleetingness
For their father’s love was purer.
For their father’s love was strong
Their poor and lonely fathers
Cursed to loveless love

Oh brave new world that I have seen
That has such people in it!
Who cry for long-forgotten men
Yet **** the ones before them!
wrote this in anger after the 50th poem I saw pass by which complained about the evils of modern technology and society
Jhené 7h
as you get older you start to wonder what happened;
those kids who were full of happiness and joy are now shadows of their former selves.

maybe it is the fact that they have been pushed so far down,
they don't want to get up.
maybe it is the fact that they have been scarred with far worse than some will ever seem to understand.
maybe it is simply the fact that life seems to purposefully hurt you,
and you are always the victim.

adults may say kids cannot be depressed or have mental disorders,
and those who do are blind to reality,
maybe your eyes will open one day and you will learn to love.

care a little harder,
fight a little longer,
learn to grow from a seedling into a beautiful flower,
a sapling into a big sturdy tree,
a baby into a strong individual.

and then you will feel at peace.

When there's so much
love locked in my ribcage
I only wish ***
grants mercy
to those who shall receive it

For my tsunami of emotions
will shake
the loneliest of islands
an earthquake of beats
will beat life into the lifeless
and love.. oh love
will melt the
frost off
It’s not often we come across,
A larger model placed upon Cosmopolitan cover.
An international magazine that are known for breaking the boundaries,
A magazine for women of all different sizes and colour,
The first magazine to outlet and break the stigma
Stories of unmarried women not only having ***, but also enjoying it

Their articles discusses the reality of women’s sexuality
Behavior, ****** encounters, health, and beauty
Their continuity to highlight body positivity,
With ranging from all types of sizes,
Promoting **** lingerie and swim suites,

A world of beauty and trends,
A platform to embrace all cultural backgrounds
A magazine which isn’t based on one particular kind of style,
Articles based on overcoming anxiety and regular exercise,
Encouraging women to endure their identity
Aimed for all different ages and disability,

Yet their heavily pointed at by society,
Told their promoting obesity,
Down with the plus sizes they say,
Vocalizing their disbelief,
I don’t want my daughter or girlfriend to look this way,

Unless they look like Kim Kardashian then that’s ok
Conflicted by a standard of beauty,
How Plus size models are perceived by the media,
Victimized by the size of their thighs and belly,
Told their appearance is inflicting bad habits,

Yet most billboards are promoting alcohol,
Yet most television adverts are selling fast food,
Most magazines are selling us an illusion of a 'Happy free life'
Articles on how you can get your life together in two minutes
A belief of how diets can lose weight in only 6 days!
Get rid of those dark circles and wrinkles using this cream!
How can we not forget the articles which sell us the fairytale wedding?
A life with no regrets is constantly forced down our necks
Yet we go along with it all,
We don’t pick holes and threaten

Models with ******* addictions,
Athletes who regularly use steroids,
Politicians who lie and betray,
Articles on celebrity’s downfalls and break-ups,
Wide-spread covers of the perfect toned body
Pornographic images of ***** and fannies,
Yet we point our finger at Cosmopolitan,
Rather than seeing a beautiful women on the front cover
dead-icate yourself to ****'th fitness found in fighting fornication feasting forty-*******-winks...

four effs to full-time Faustian frivolity,
fireplace grateful of Ash like The Dead
won't empty itself by choice alone,

E. T phone home-shopping-channel,
tunnel to the fleur-de-gris-gris gamut of greed like Baron Samedi with a Shabbat cigar,

fat snake coils and a cornucopia of errant enculés,

effyouseekay tell her I want to **** her, will you?
my arm hurts....

salirophilia smells like Chanel on chenille, silk soaked with **** and poverty playing the Queen of Hearts violin,

'dis chord doesn't sound right are you holding Bach?

pizzicato palmistry plucks at the strings of theory, the political pants
containing -ance:


*in that order.

flourish, curtain, no applause-
the audience are deaf and blind.
I liked this stream of consciousness poem so thought I'd repost it.
Apologies if the formatting is asterisk-crazy. It puts font in italics on my device.
The idea of a perfect plan for life is one that’s floored in every material in every way.
It begins much like a seed.
In good soil with good intentions and seemingly the right influence.
Sun for photosynthesis, nutrients to supply the food for growth and water.
Enough water to rehydrate invigorate but also it can drown.
The water you see isn’t merely water it’s the plausibility and possibility
we strive for and see in our faces every day.
“Be who you want to be”,
“the sky is the limit”
“the only thing holding you back is your imagination”.
But what if that isn’t it.
What if being who we want to be gets put down,
changed and made to be realistic.
Like a child following the instructions on their Lego instructions:
they put M8 on T3 and piece that together
with pieces 5, 6, 7 & 8 etc.
until their puzzle is complete.
Complete to resemble the same thing that the other kids build,
or the same one that their parents before them built.
Built to last, built to fit, built to be…
No one is told to believe
That they should believe in their writing and encouraged to chase a dream.
Instead they’re told to choose a “real” dream.
One that benefits society.
One that asks no questions, changes no formats or builds and pushes no borders.
The moment of truth
lies in the second
you end your poem
with an exhale
and you look
Ellison 2d
Thought I had become nearly as hard as brass
As my mind drifts aimlessly throughout the grass
But still, the pressures of the world continue to hammer
Yet who is to argue a diamond’s beauty and glamour?

For at the end of the day, I’ll be crushed into dust
And my soft flesh-bag form is all but robust
And the perfection of a stone that withstands the cold air
Is subject to pressure but continues without a care

The diamond is pure; the diamond is correct
We all ought to give it its deservéd respect
Because a diamond has no weakness or any sort of flaw
Unlike the simple humans that gaze at it in awe

I can almost hear it speak; give it your full attention
As it so rightfully boasts without a slight hint of pretension
That my sad pouring eyes and my chaotic plagued mind
Resembles nothing that belongs to its perfect carbon kind.

So mine mine mine out the caves in your brain
As the diamonds dryly watch as you all go insane.
Got inspiration from Steven Universe lol
I sit here and wonder...
If life is really worth living...
Because no one EVER feels like giving...
Giving the time to ask how I am.
They ALL act like they don't give a ****.
I know I've made a mistake,
And now my LIFE I WANT to TAKE!
I don't know whether or not you'll forgive me,
Because I know I can't forgive myself...so please let me be.
I know I disappointed you,
But I know you will get through!
The LAST thing I have to say:
      I LOVE YOU!
And that will always stay!

I'm sorry....
I wrote this for society, showing them what people think because of what society has come to!!!!
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