#midas
Shall I compare thee to the winter’s snow? Thou art much whiter and more valuable.
Yet February's chill dims snow's bright glow,
But thy deep grace does remain perpetual.
The school kids love the snowman more than you,
They find no joy in lessons or in rhyme;
But wise and elder hearts know what is true,
And see the seeds of figs in wintertime.
King Midas’ gold and all his fame is gone,
For earthly riches are not truly felt;
Like melting snow they vanish in the dawn,
While in my words, your beauty will never melt.
So long Shakespeare's sonnet 18 is read,
So long you will be alive and not dead.
Dec 22, 2025
Dec 22, 2025 at 6:52 AM UTC
Why does it feel like we are living out the tragic fairy tales we used to be told as children?
Bedtime stories used to feel so safe, but now they make for living nightmares.
Everything I touch turns to gold, but they weigh me down, so much so that I am drowning in a sea of obsessive perfection – and yet I cannot even breathe nor swim.
Have I given too much of myself to an illusory aim?
Have I forgotten my roots and the things that really matter in the end?
Everything I touch turns to gold, but gold is not what I desire.
It was never the end; it was the means.
But now I have a golden palace and a broken heart.
Tell me, where do I go from here?
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 3:30 PM UTC
whatever i touch
turns into tragedy—
Midas wishes his hands
were made of mine.
i dare not touch
trees and their leaves—
their old age
will not matter
once i graze their skin.
i do wonder
if everything good
that comes are worthy
of my ruin—
they quickly turn
sour and ugly
once they,
finally,
rest their heads
on my lap
and i am left here,
once again,
picking up the scraps,
telling myself
nothing incredibly,
or inherently, bad
has happened yet.
but what if it comes?
what if the world
decides to put
the blame on me
and punish me
for simply being alive?
should i keep
crawling back
to life?
or should i
accept the fate
i have been given?
Nov 5, 2023
Nov 5, 2023 at 2:40 PM UTC
Midas turned what he loved to gold
I wish I could do the same
Instead my touch brings destruction
No matter what I hold
I find it always ends the same
Lovers, friends, any other
My destruction knows no bounds
I often wonder, did Midas feel this way?
Jun 23, 2022
Jun 23, 2022 at 10:12 PM UTC
she's like my midas, incarnated
golden just for me, i know she hates it
but she likes me though
she says
she'll call me baby, call me crazy
when she's the one cursing at me
but she likes me so
she says
and i'll be back everytime
like a sinner drawn to wine
i'll let her touch me, oh
i'll let her drown me in her liquid gold
call it toxic, call it comic
but all i want is this
she's like my midas, her touch is blessed
makes me golden, feeling euphoric
and she loves me so
she says
if this ain't love then what is?
and it's always the same
like a moth drawn to flame
i'll let her touch me, oh
i'll let her burn me 'til we're liquid gold
so she could love me for a bit
hate me for a bit
my love's been being cold to me
so just love me for a bit
i wanna be your *****
and it would feel like gold to me
Sep 22, 2021
Sep 22, 2021 at 10:49 PM UTC
just like my eyes hurt, whenever I venture
a step outside my antrum
so they do, whenever I look at you.
and when I shut my eyes, the sun is gone
your eyes still pierce through
rebellious daughter of Midas
you turned your left wing into gold
of what avail is the other one now?
and your heart that glistens
oh what price you have paid
Jul 27, 2020
Jul 27, 2020 at 12:41 PM UTC
You emerged from the breaking dawn
glittering to rival the rising sun.
Molten gold dripped
from the tips of your fingers;
shimmering dust encrusted your footprints.
Had our paths not crossed,
I'd not be frozen here;
a statue of fool's gold,
the work of your touch.
But I'm stuck in your kingdom,
watching the golden age
waiting until you wash your hands in the river
and come back to me —
you are cursed with the Midas touch,
and I am cursed for making you king.
Sep 1, 2019
Sep 1, 2019 at 8:42 PM UTC
Though one may have noble intentions
One will always have a darker side.
Greed and longing
Are the most common forms of masochism.
And when one has what they want,
One will lose everything else.
The Midas Touch
Gave a man the ability
To satisfy his soul
And to destroy his life.
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 9:03 PM UTC
With every touch you turn more and more of me into treasured gold
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 11:14 AM UTC
The same dreams that have sustained you
could be the same ones to
end you.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 10:52 AM UTC
It's amazing and humbling
to be one of those Queens
who thought her notes
on the canvas were nothing
but scribbles and ink
but other Kings and Queen
make her see that it's
gold
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 9:46 AM UTC
Had a conversation with Midas;
It got me thinking different.
Lebron James flow, I guess that y’all the witness.
I’m contemplating so much, it’s hard to write a sentence.
Early stage of my twenty’s, yet still I feel a menace.
We blur the lines of life and death whether it’s right or wrong.
But I love you through everything;
still I’m holding on.
And for so long I just been locked away.
Been writing in notebooks trying to find my way.
Midas sat and he told me I shouldn’t sell my soul.
You need to just get the ball rolling, you getting old.
Your heart got cold, sat in the freezer on the early days of summer, to chill, now you writing but against your will.
And I’m crying.
And on the inside I’m dying.
Every body says be strong, and believe me I’m trying.
Midas said that I be lying.
To get infatuation.
I wiped my eyes and I asked how to change this situation.
He said it’s your destination.
Change up your formation.
And stop all that leaking on the internet about complications.
Found that open door.
But you don’t wanna walk thru.
I love you through everything should’ve dropped; somehow I thought I lost you.
But later it will cost you.
Know you feeling kinda awful
Ima come back and see just where this conversation got you.
But I didn’t tell it all.
I figured I would call,
And tell Midas I’m focused and I’m ready to ball.
While I sit, just all alone in a empty hall.
As all of my mishaps are posters on the wall.
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 11:52 PM UTC
watch as your whole world crumbles.
the air you breathe turns to gold.
and you choke as it forces its way
down your throat and into your lungs.
tell me midas, was it worth it?
that midas touch.
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 7:47 AM UTC
Midas was my enemy,
A violent grip, on an old pen
Tossed it over for me to bend
Words for his twisted golden mind
The cursed King with all his riches
Wanted the prose for cure
A rhythmic rhyme to rid his shine
To end his touch of alchemy
I pitied the old man, his metallic
Skin, did send shivers down my spine
I offered a verse, reading and lips pursed
As 24 karats fell from his eyes
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 10:51 AM UTC
I love that you
make my body
feel real.
I love that you have
the Midas touch.
And I love
that you
made me gold.
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 12:11 PM UTC
Bureaucrats and clergymen
differ only in doctrine.
But their altars steam
with the blood
of untold innocents.
The Pope, Stalin, and ******
all canvass the people
with warped visions
of Paradise.
(Oh, Celan, you saw it
too well.)
Bloodletting for peace...
Pitchforks stoke the fires
to make dainty foot warmers
for Moloch and Midas.
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 8:57 AM UTC
He was a rather special sort,
To those who knew him,
And knew him not.
Tingles ran through his finger tips,
A golden chalice,
Held to his lips.
This Midas had a curious touch,
That left him mighty,
Not wanting much.
Golden forms from his fingers dashed,
Enemies transformed,
Into piles of cash.
A merry man, he strut through town
An arms length clear zone,
Did him surround.
When a wondrous girl he saw, so bold
She walked right to him,
No fear of gold.
Such beauty never before had beamed
Eyes lowered down,
Hair bounced and gleamed
When she glided close enough to kiss,
She met his gaze...
he touched her cheek...
and the last thing they heard...
Was a chorused hiss.
So if you should walk down that street,
King Midas and
His love you'll meet.
King turned to stone, with outstretched hand
And with head of yellow snakes
A golden Medusa stands.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 4:53 AM UTC
I was wearing my plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans
but he held me like King Midas and showed me off
like I'm pure gold
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 3:57 AM UTC
I'm sad and alone and everything I touch turns to gold,
but that's the life,
amirite?
Money's the only matter that matters and some kids three worlds away are getting kidnapped and killed for quotas while these kids are worried about their quote of the day. And,
by kids,
I mean little girls at age three being sold on the streets and in between sheets in countries that aren't all that far away, and little boys whose coloring pages are filled with explosions and guns cause it's literal
war
they're waging. But down the way, parents are posting posters in their children's rooms prompting inspiration: it's something about peace and love-- I mean, that's what they all say.
Well, I've made my peace with the pieces of this prayer, a priest standing golden over me as I throw my diamond-encrusted hands to the air and scream, "Someone
save me."
But these people don't care.
I am a man of gold with a heart of stone and no one cares because, frankly,
Neither do I.
Statistically speaking, everyone in the States clings to the belief that if they just earned an extra fifteen percent wage annually,
then they could live happily.
But,
darling,
when everything you touch turns to gold, statistics don't
quite
fit
the diagnostics.
I
am the outlier, the outright liar, the purveyor of pride that cost me my life but
who cares? I mean,
I've got my money.
I've got my money in a capitalist country that feeds off circulation and circumstance that leads brains to short-circuit short-cut economic politics and slaughter chances, rather than enhancing the value of a life that money can't add up to.
Welcome to the slaughterhouse.
Welcome to the tolerance of intolerance of humanity. Welcome
to the closing scene, where we can be seen on the Globe, on William Shakespeare's pun-fully named stage cause that's what all the world is,
and so's
this gold.
It's a play,
cause some day the curtains will close and all my props will remain on the stage and I am sad and alone with my heart still fo stone but without any gold. I've
lost
my
touch, and
without this cash I'll be nothing but a ten second news flash announcing to the rest of these underpaid actors that I've been knocked off my throne.
I don't think I was ever a king to begin with,
just a man who could forge
fool's gold.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 4:09 PM UTC
I find your soul within my hands,
My power is to great
My people love me
These coins are as bright as the sun
Everything I touch, brings me riches
But everything I touch I lose happiness
You bring me riches
Your eyes are as bright as diamonds
While your hair is as slick as silver
I find your soul within my hands
I wish I could feel your warmth
I wish I could hold your hand
With you, I wish I can grow old
But every time we touch
you turn into gold
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
I am rotten
I am plagued by my own soul
An anti-Midas causing ****
Everywhere I go.
I am broken
And no one understands
How lonely it feels to put your worth
In everyone else's hands.
I am sorry
If I have ever broken your heart
It makes me feel in control
To keep my barriers up.
I am happy
When I am in your arms
And all the pain it goes away
I'm protected from harm.
I am just me
I'm a wounded complicated thing
Although I may not show it much
I appreciate everything my life brings.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
Please Midas,
Take the golden gun
And shove the golden bullet
Right through my golden skin
And tell me a story about
"All that glitters.."
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 7:39 PM UTC