"aboriginality" poems - Hello Poetry

Some days I look at the ceiling. Lay on my floor and stare at everything. The eggshell paint chips and how they linger. The circle where I once threw pudding up in the air with Her. I ask it why it's so constraining, Why everything it does makes me feel like it's raining. Why I can't take off like the birds And just fly free instead of living with the herd. But flight is impossible when you have a ceiling, mental or not it's still built like a never ending grieving. For someone you lost, for someone you hate, for those people that make you insane. Living for the future works exactly like a main Pip bursting with water Killing the things surrounding it farther. This ceiling is drowning me, Metaphorically asphyxiating the Airflow of my thoughts Creating a lack of creativity. I have to destroy this ceiling, And free myself from aboriginality. The bereavement of society, Is it's abhorring nature toward creativity.

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Sep 20, 2014

Sep 20, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC

onedreammorestudios

Bereavement of Creativity

Some days I look at the ceiling. Lay on my floor and stare at everything. The eggshell paint chips and how they linger. The circle where I once threw pudding up in the air with Her. I ask it why it's so constraining, Why everything it does makes me feel like it's raining. Why I can't take off like the birds And just fly free instead of living with the herd. But flight is impossible when you have a ceiling, mental or not it's still built like a never ending grieving. For someone you lost, for someone you hate, for those people that make you insane. Living for the future works exactly like a main Pip bursting with water Killing the things surrounding it farther. This ceiling is drowning me, Metaphorically asphyxiating the Airflow of my thoughts Creating a lack of creativity. I have to destroy this ceiling, And free myself from aboriginality. The bereavement of society, Is it's abhorring nature toward creativity.

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I am soupy mud-lukewarm rain. I am art rarely born in *** belonging. gender. identity. I am being more hazardous than a heartthrob, commitments which don’t owe. I am seemingly flawed acrobats where wars and rifts give purest windows into- I am diversity, unbiased observation without opinion This body is a cave to personal Aboriginality. With similar struggles, this body is February funerals Stumbling drunk Faulty wires Silence singing This body is masculinity sitting as knobs on my chest. 10 month T shot showing no faith in God likely hates me like This Body Is a two week alcoholic. I am some body. A temporary palace worthy of worshipping past open hours of service, I am this breath inside a masterpiece, losing pace and time of directions. I am skeletal, with you growing through rainfalls I want you to learn to dance with me I am putting on a face ‘pretty’ is a word fit to little girl’s dresses and marmalade eyes I am black lightning down her classroom arms. This feeling is ‘I think I want to wear makeup’ Who I can be Who can I be? Who was I This feeling is Who I was. Bogged down and banking on jawline horizons never seen, This feeling is what it is. This feeling is multiplying hearts for many individuals. This body is I think I’m aro ace all the way. I am thought to be nothing more than your constant in a dream.

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Mar 19, 2017

Mar 19, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC

httphellopoetryscruffy-boy

I'm A Body That's Feeling This

I am soupy mud-lukewarm rain. I am art rarely born in *** belonging. gender. identity. I am being more hazardous than a heartthrob, commitments which don’t owe. I am seemingly flawed acrobats where wars and rifts give purest windows into- I am diversity, unbiased observation without opinion This body is a cave to personal Aboriginality. With similar struggles, this body is February funerals Stumbling drunk Faulty wires Silence singing This body is masculinity sitting as knobs on my chest. 10 month T shot showing no faith in God likely hates me like This Body Is a two week alcoholic. I am some body. A temporary palace worthy of worshipping past open hours of service, I am this breath inside a masterpiece, losing pace and time of directions. I am skeletal, with you growing through rainfalls I want you to learn to dance with me I am putting on a face ‘pretty’ is a word fit to little girl’s dresses and marmalade eyes I am black lightning down her classroom arms. This feeling is ‘I think I want to wear makeup’ Who I can be Who can I be? Who was I This feeling is Who I was. Bogged down and banking on jawline horizons never seen, This feeling is what it is. This feeling is multiplying hearts for many individuals. This body is I think I’m aro ace all the way. I am thought to be nothing more than your constant in a dream.

54

I experienced the vicissitudes of Asia Blue blood of Europe The aboriginality of Africa And the mysteries of America I soaked my feet in the water of the nameless rivers I moistened by the waves of bays, the seas and the oceans The sapphire of the blue Nile won my heart I splashed the cold waters of the Mare Darling on my face I was astounded to see the orange river,the lake Titicaca, Victoria and Niagara falls I saw the radiance of the icy Himalaya in the bright sunlight I was completely spellbound by the splendour of the Olympus and the Kilimanjaro During the day in a desert my feet got burnt by the heat of the sand I stared at a handsome horseman dressed in black in a wonderful starry night I glanced at the seven wonders and the world heritage I was hypnotized by the skyscrapers in the mega city The tidy countrysides which were green with crops and vegetation brought peace to my mind I enjoyed the companionship of Eskimos,penguins ,seals and polar bears in the polar region Aurora borealis and aurora australis fascinated me In orbit the annual motion around the sun and the diurnal rotation of the earth on its axis I'm travelling around the world I do not have my own home The whole globe is my motherland

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Aug 2, 2021

Aug 2, 2021 at 2:15 AM UTC

farah-taskin

A Globetrotter

I experienced the vicissitudes of Asia Blue blood of Europe The aboriginality of Africa And the mysteries of America I soaked my feet in the water of the nameless rivers I moistened by the waves of bays, the seas and the oceans The sapphire of the blue Nile won my heart I splashed the cold waters of the Mare Darling on my face I was astounded to see the orange river,the lake Titicaca, Victoria and Niagara falls I saw the radiance of the icy Himalaya in the bright sunlight I was completely spellbound by the splendour of the Olympus and the Kilimanjaro During the day in a desert my feet got burnt by the heat of the sand I stared at a handsome horseman dressed in black in a wonderful starry night I glanced at the seven wonders and the world heritage I was hypnotized by the skyscrapers in the mega city The tidy countrysides which were green with crops and vegetation brought peace to my mind I enjoyed the companionship of Eskimos,penguins ,seals and polar bears in the polar region Aurora borealis and aurora australis fascinated me In orbit the annual motion around the sun and the diurnal rotation of the earth on its axis I'm travelling around the world I do not have my own home The whole globe is my motherland

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