#influences
Am I living a life that is my own,
Or am I chasing down the dreams
Of the women who have come before?
Reviewing my life
I see my aunt’s photography
Lining the walls,
I read a great-great-grandmother’s poetry
And think, are they mine?
Or am I thee?
Am I carrying the legacies
of women old before me?
Incomplete —
If these lives were to talk now
What truths would be freed?
Are they revealed
In the discoveries I make,
In the sweets I bake
Or in the decisions I take?
What are their’s
And what is mine?
Are any of them my own?
Dec 26, 2025
Dec 26, 2025 at 4:17 PM UTC
Dylan boy,
lord of all the sleeping towns
the valleys and the mean little houses,
master of the flowering words,
like best bitter they flowed
dark and ripe and full to the top of the glass,
well worth the waiting for you were,
if the masses couldn’t see it
then they too were blind as moles,
you finished up your pint
and left us, empty
Sep 5, 2024
Sep 5, 2024 at 2:37 AM UTC
Sadness sometimes feels like you're consumed with madness.
It's never ending and I'm done pretending.
Plaster on that smile, wear that mask for a while.
Your heartaches because of the risks you take,
they fall through and now you're stuck feeling so blue.
The numbness seeps in all the way down to your core.
Making you question what you have left to live for.
You feel no excitement or joy,
like your some pushed aside toy,
but your the master actor playing your part,
so others don't question what has you falling apart.
You wish you could tell them, god do you wish.
But expressing your feelings was not your one true gift.
You over feel and isolate yourself,
and then you feel so alone you start to hate yourself.
You try and break free of the heavy weight of these feelings.
It's like you're underwater trying to break the ice on the surface.
pounding and yelling,
no one hears you, you're invisible to the world.
Until the ice melts and your finally free,
and you see how you want things to be.
brush off others influences,
It's their problem if they have differences.
now you can open your eyes and see,
how you want to be,
this sadness is gone,
you can go and live on.
Be you and be strong
Jan 18, 2021
Jan 18, 2021 at 12:54 PM UTC
Upon birth, a seed of thought is planted
And smothered in soil
Until its cultivators find
That they’re ready to water it,
That it’s time to dictate its growth.
Once it emerges from the protective seed coat,
Nurture overruns nature,
And it takes in the nutrients bestowed upon it
To become the thing
That it’s supposed to be.
It grows on its own, away from the home,
Expected to be a tree
With a wide canopy of varying leaves
Of knowledge
That can be trimmed down if need be.
Society tracks its progress,
Ensuring that it grows as strong as possible,
A novice to be molded to its full potential,
Within the limits set,
Maybe a little more, nothing less.
A leaf can be removed if it learns one too many,
A branch torn down if it’s set too low,
Flowers modified when colors shall change.
A tree should know that all it should know
Stems from the water fed from an unknown source below.
Spoon-fed knowledge can’t account for experience.
They’ve forgotten the impacts of seasons,
Hurricane force winds,
Harmful bacteria contained within,
Invasive species,
Weathering after storms,
They’ve forgotten to account for the things
That can’t be controlled.
Nutrients can be given
And leaves can be pruned
But knowledge won’t be confined
To shining small jewels.
We don’t know a thing
So they teach what they choose
But at the end of the day
We don’t know if that’s true.
We take what we’re given
And search for much more,
But our intuition can’t be taken
And won’t be ignored.
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 5:47 PM UTC
everything´s so far away
in front of your eyes but still miles away
suddenly everything´s coming closer
you feel the breath in your neck
you feel it coming closer
it starts to controll you
and influences your actions
it even took your thoughts
and ruined them
you smell it
you smell the fear
and it smells like vanilla body butter
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 4:43 PM UTC
Being white...is now a sin to society.
I was nothing but a plain canvass. Hanging in the wall, the consummate design of purity. One day, I threw a dot in the middle of my frame to see how life is like. Then all of the sudden, I became the attention of most paintings. I was art. I was meaningful. The thought of my imperfection is art. But not all commits to that sense of style, and they judged me. They smudged me with colors I'm unfamiliar with. Their hands changed me in terms of tragedy, just like themselves. My innocence became abstract with different intentions. The white no longer defined me, but the sins they made me do provide.
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 6:29 AM UTC
Panoply of mystical elements of holly day style
breathe prez sense frostily exaled aired
per millennia athwart
(this terrestrial spaceship planet Earth)
two plus seventeen carousel rides resonated
veritable pantheon of pagan rituals
and quirky superstitions lit
(akin to a lit Christmass tree)
starry eyed imagination
as catalyst viz **** Sapiens
furrowed stern brow of forehead
aft stemmed whilst Santa oft puzzling
(allocating suitable gifts)
inducing him to tug thought generating beard
pondering, whence agents provocateurs
receive just desserts
fueled hodge podge, mished mashed, helter skelter
eclectic December twenty fifth
encompassing tens of thousands previous generations
bred despacito fixtures via paganism,
Manicheaism, Jainism, et cetera
ancient brutish credos, ethos, faiths
brewed nebulous concoction
within mindset of early mankind
loose confection, confederation, conglomeration
indiscriminately torquing, vetting, whetting
disparate constituent beliefs
contagion wrought spirit paradigm
inculcating oral tradition Madonna and child
occupying high chair
whereat superstitions birthed patchwork
comprising divergent ensemble heralding
tender petsmart impact, where world wide web populated
with sacrificial pacification sans deity
via oblation, immolation, flagellation appeasing **********
borrow wing, vis a vis amalgamated viz Roman sol invictus
wrought fiery brimstone tempting those who dared
assert contrary fledgling jambalaya outlook
provoking regally supreme sacerdotal wiseman
punishing opposing incorporating
novel modus operandi explaining sacrilegious worship
such heretics pitched headlong
into fiendish frothing furnace
forcing obeisance toward primitive popular
identified, honored, glorified father figure
expressing devotion re:
decking the halls of the moutain king,
whence boughs of Juniper sprigs contriving wreaths
sanctifying twisted brambles via springling angel dust
(actually cremated remains of malefactors
stripped of habiliments) during bleak winter
unwittingly interweaving nascent (futuristic)
formally codified bona fied religions
unknowingly, tacitly, silently rendering
quintessential premises obliging
layperson to foreswear locally rooted secular treatises
trounced, trumpeted unction voided
wishy washy antithetical blind faith coalescing edicts
over course of time became established
Greco-Roman imposed group think
disallowing cynics,
diametrically emerging fanatics, skeptics
who (if ***** did not recant
recalcitrant reccommended recourse
faced torture amidst throng of madding crowd
as entertainment and forewarning gall
asper those who held steadfast dissimilar views
taught since birth, when citizenry reared
as just a little drummer boy/ girl pipsqueak
taught to stay the course (sans straight and true)
bound without freedom to express contrary aspects
of ways and whyfores, which controlled each green day
and silent night, wherefore unimaginable ogres
lined straying hip cats
eventually ensnared within warpath,
whence law of the land lend scimitar to smite
any mortal man, woman or child with flaming torches
licking the heretical body electric,
while defiant individuals
left to burn into decimated
charcoal blackened, ashen corpse.
Nov 22, 2017
Nov 22, 2017 at 6:06 PM UTC
What came in
Isn't leaving, me ma!
Darkness crawling from sides
Me blind. **** you glaucoma!
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 9:05 AM UTC
the only thing necessary for me
is the stars
something to stare up at
and wonder
but now
you've become my stars
and I stare at you
and wonder
what will come
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 2:43 AM UTC
The multitude is flowing ahead
Teeming with dreams and hope
Crammed, with little place to move
There is dearth of space in the mind
Physically, we are reaching fatigue
What do we have for choice?
The power to choose is taken away
Our choices influenced by publicity
Duplicating a parallel world of feel good
Yet, deep down we are queasy
Something is not right, not identifiable
Blinded by the dazzles of show- biz
As if, all the actors are being directed
Chosen to play a role, not ours to choose
Memorizing written scripts, to deliver
Speeches which are not ours, we feel
Our dreams invaded, and manipulated
Our originality, suppressed in the makeup
Masquerading, our inner thoughts and ideas
Repeating the same role everyday
Delivering the scripted dialogues
Keeping in mind that we are here for audience
Our originality and individuality torn apart
Our original script has gone down the shredder
Who has the energy to pick up the pieces?
To join, the strewn dreams and live in a new way
We are just a created avatar, directed, indirectly
Of what we love, wear, eat, and live our life
Swept away by the waves of multitude
Individuality is relegated to the dark confines
Where can we start searching, our real counterpart?
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC
I see the world so beautifully
From the cotton candy sunsets
And the dancing trees
The Oceans waves
The peach sun rises
I've never seen a soul in this universe
Appreciate the world for what it is
And I've come to the conclusion that its the people....
Who make this world so evil.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 1:22 PM UTC