"accepts" poems
“Moby **** Herman Melville
<•>
~for the lost at sea~
after a year of saltwater absence and abstinence,
return to the island caught between two land forks
surrounded by river-heading flows
bound for the ocean great joining
the Atlantic welcomes the fresh water fools,
bringing with them hopefully, but hopeless gifts of obeisances,
peace-offerings endeavoring to keep their infinite souls
sea accepts them then drowns the
warm newcomers in the unaccustomed
deep cold salinity, which
sometimes erodes
sometimes preserving
their former freshwater cold originality
I’m called to depart my beach shoreline unarmed,
no kayak, sunfish or glass bottomed boat needed,
walk on water and my toes, ten eyes to see the bottom,
no depth perception limitation,
reading the floor’s topography,
millions of minion’s stories infinite,
many Munch screaming
god’s foot, heavy upon my shoulders,
a daytime travel guide, hired for me,
not a friendly travel companion, nope,
God a pusher showing off a drug called deep water salvation,
designated for the masses, can handle large parties
my in-camera brain eyes,
record everything for playback -
the lost and unburied, bone crossword puzzles
walk shore to ship, on soles to souls,
is this my new-summer nature welcome back greeting?
puzzled at the awesomeness of vastness,
conclude this clarification for me of the occluded-deep,
is a stern reminder of my insignificant existence,
my requirement to walk humbly, spare my sin of vanity, and
forgive my trespasses upon the lives of others
perhaps then the infinite of my soul perchance restored,
older visions clarified and future poems
will write themselves
and sea to it my predecessors
be better remembered
Memorial Day 2018
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 11:53 AM UTC
Ah yes, the magic of human touch,
Trusting to warm my soul's skin
Tis nature of loves connection, as such.
My body accepts, oh if you only knew
Like an honored guest, I grin
Anticipating the pleasures, one of the few.
Skin to skin, our bodies converse.
Uninhabited, my mind wander
Deep inside, my craving thirsts.
Artful hands sculpt with purpose
Lulling layers open, you're quite the artist
Soothing caress melt my body formless
I'm yours, silently, I surrender.
As my flesh cries out for more
Arching waves of splendor
Rewarded my senses sated.
With newfound clarity reborn
Mind, body and spirit replenished.
I thank you for your gift of touch.
Lovingly, I would return the favor,
as such.
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 11:34 PM UTC
Her serene voice,
And her beautiful smile,
Her torquise eyes,
Shining so bright,
Under the moonlight we stand,
Hand in hand,
I kneel down on my knee,
Asking her will you marry me,
She accepts my proposal,
And honestly from that day onwards,
I sleep in peace.
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
Age and Grace
Her steps were always slow;
Even in youth she swayed,
Walked with sultry composure
And seductive flow.
Like a heathen goddess,
She tempers movement with grace.
It was not done out of vanity,
But pleasure in the flowing stream of steps
That mark her pace.
The relaxed fulcrum of her hip
Tilts with undulations in the turf;
Her feet tread lightly with a claim
On the summer fields,
On the bending trees
Where beauty still abounds..
She savors the trailing of her skirt
Through unseen paths in drooping grass.
Until the evening mist accrues
From out the forest paths
Caressing her as she yields,
Until she and it are almost one.
Like Whistler’s “breath on a pane of glass”,
She bargains with nature,
Waning to become an aesthetic phantom.
She stops at a window and watches
With a sad smile, the warm light on life,
The laughter, talk and dancing grace
Of her children, who don’t yet know
The bittersweet taste of withered garlands.
Yet she accepts and passes into the dusk.
Now she executes a careful,
Battement fondu as her hands dip
To reach the soaking pods
Of next year’s summer flowers.
Every move must be planned,
To manage every hour.
For they are as precious now,
As her own days,
Fading into glory and reborn,
Into spring and youth’s careless riot.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 11:19 AM UTC
i slipped out
into the waves of watercolour
that broke themselves upon the shore
of the horizon
and i disappeared
as they darkened into black
i escaped through the sunset
as words were climbing up my legs
setting fire to my ears
and forcing me to retreat away
from the choking letters and sinking ink
that tattooed all this sound into my skin
at first, the sunset saved me
and the waves that gently hit the dock felt like a heartbeat
telling me that this was how it would always be
but soon, i began to miss the panic
just for the simple fact that it was a feeling
and the sunset had stolen them all from me
leaving me bare, black and stretched high above
unable to land on the ground again
unable to even blink stars down onto the grass
unable to do anything
other than wait for the sun to rise again
but solstice has already passed
and the dark hours grow longer again
and i am pulled thin, veiling a world
that accepts me as the night
and doesn't even miss the stars
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
There is a gentle thought that often springs
to life in me, because it speaks of you.
Its reasoning about love’s so sweet and true,
the heart is conquered, and accepts these things.
‘Who is this’ the mind enquires of the heart,
‘who comes here to ****** our intellect?
Is his power so great we must reject
every other intellectual art?
The heart replies ‘O, meditative mind
this is love’s messenger and newly sent
to bring me all Love’s words and desires.
His life, and all the strength that he can find,
from her sweet eyes are mercifully lent,
who feels compassion for our inner fires.’
9.6k
He woke this morning
Another night of her dreams
He glanced into the mirror
She’s not real it seems
Society unknowingly accepts
The image presented
Unaware of the damage
Being self-inflicted
He hides her for fear of rejection
She battles for her reflection.
____________________
Michelle Renee Milford
Nov. 2014
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 3:37 PM UTC
They're all telling you to be strong,
when we're all hurting.
You see, I'm not the type of girl that just accepts sadness,
I'm the type of girl that wants to overcome it.
I want to honor the God who created me,
and try to be brave.
But oh, how hard life can be sometimes.
The expectations they hold,
sometimes it feels like they're asking for perfection.
I try so hard,
oh so hard.
How hard it is to be brave.
Because when the hurt we recieve,
we show it in return.
We've hurt ourselves by hurting others.
What would it be like to be loved by someone in the most perfect way?
We're all so capable of it.
But so many of us have been hurt,
we've forgotten how to be brave.
We've ignored it, and submitted to what every other person has done.
You see, I don't think it's because we don't want to be brave.
I feel like we don't know how to.
We don't know how to make our fake smiles into genuine smiles even on the worst days.
We don't know how to look at a horrible situation and realize how God might be saving us from something even harder.
We can't look at the people who have hurt us and be able to forgive them.
You see, bravery isn't just an act of heroism.
It's the unimaginable.
The act of love,
Putting others first.
We've forgotten how to be brave.
Let's be brave.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
we lay together, 6:00am, body warmth touch-sharing,
as the June morning summer chill coming off its night nadir coolness
surrenders very reluctantly,
full length pajamas, blankets and coverlets in use,
keeping cold out while bodies touching generate heat -
a big difference
through these layers of cotton controversy, my right arm,
my cunning, falls awkwardly upon her, advising I am woken
and aware she is as well, hear her earbuds emplaced, make shushed
whispering noises re the future of artificial intelligence
and other such mental knottings
my awkward angled arm rests on her landscaped outline of shape,
coming to rest where legs meet at the top of an upside down V spot,
which makes no request, but accepts my bequest of steady
stroking of her ****** as an unnecessary
but atheist-acceptable to her
morning prayer ritual, kept at the intersection of the
physical and physics theorems
funny how some prayers,
where recitation comes thoughtlessly and routine,
uttered without any contemplation are yet
deep comforting for their inherency,
so I pray a stroking repetitive on her body,
well hid neath a summer coverlet,
wordlessly chanted, wordlessly accepted, silence connoting approving permission
I comfort her,
above and through a floral coverlet for her floral coverlet,
till the sun rises enough to truly warm up our plot,
my praying reaches the end of its rope,
where quality and quantity achieve unanimity resolution
no longer needed,
but am appreciated, besides my arm is cramping,
not designed for the rising, unleveled angle of her breathing bodice
my comfort is her extra comforter,
an offering of coffee my reward,
for my daily work has begun,
and I have many more poems stillborn
that require coaxing stroking
to become
witnesses to living
Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 7:32 PM UTC
The fear of the same.
why does my happiness affect you?
Why do my pictures and comments spark hate?
Why do you feel the need to put me down about my life?
It's the way I am!
It's the way I've been!
It's the way I will be!
Call me queer,
Call me gay,
Call me bent,
I DONT ******* CARE!
Your insults aren't insulting!
Your words are useless!
You try to bring me down by labelling who I am?
That's pathetic.
So let me ask again,
Why does my happiness affect you?
So much so that people get hurt!
The community stand tall!
Taller than religion,
Taller than the government,
Because we follow our hearts!
And not fairytale's and scripts!
We live a life we choose,
One which makes us happy.
Your bible supposedly accepts everyone?
So why did my friend feel the need to **** herself because of you!
She was happy,
She was smart,
But you put her down!
You drove her to depression,
And for what?
After all I thought that God creates everyone?
So why create a transgender who is not to be accepted?
It's a bit stupid if you ask me!
She is in our hearts,
Always,
Religion means nothing,
And shall no longer hinder our happiness,
R.I.P Leelah Alcorn
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 5:27 PM UTC
The time has come
There is a war in these
Streets.
Love is dead
Passion is real,
We fight not because
We want to
Its because we have to.
We fight to survive,
To climb that
Crumbling social ladder
That only accepts
Those who are absolutely free.
Then, Maybe one day
We can go back
To our Roots
Where we basked in the cold
Water
Laughing
Loving
Living.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 9:15 PM UTC
Don't Worry, Be Happy
In life you rarely catch a break,
was being born just a mistake.
Things may happen beyond our control,
those are the days when you pack a bowl.
If you find yourself in any kind of trouble,
a real friend would be there on the double.
If you find life ain't worth living,
waiting for you is a new beginning.
Not every day can be perfect,
maybe your thoughts, you need to collect.
Some days you wake up on the wrong side of the bed,
just be glad you didn't wake up dead.
No matter how much your in pain,
hide your tears by crying in the rain.
There will be days when you're depressed,
you may even feel like you're possessed.
Every dark tunnel has a hidden light,
you have to search hard, cause it isn't always bright.
Then out of nowhere things fall into place,
on those days, you must carefully embrace.
No matter how bad it seems, someone has it worse,
life is something you can't rehearse.
Find something that will make you smile,
if you still have an old phone, give me a dial.
No matter what always think positive,
dress up nice and be very provocative.
I wish there was a happy pill,
they already have one that makes you chill.
I think of my kids when I feel sad,
that makes me one happy dad.
Cuddling with my girlfriend makes me happy,
she accepts me even though I'm a bit wacky.
Always look on the bright side of life,
love can be spread with a butter knife.
I've been down, I've been out,
my heart has poured red like a spout.
So on those days when you're feeling blue,
just don't forget it goes the other way too.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 2:09 AM UTC
Her weary eyes, skin torn at the cuticle
Feet aching yet marching still
Cotton on the heir’s back
Canvas on the feet of the dutchess
Triple the hours, double the dough
His crimson cheeks, toes purple with pride
Not a single tear, nor a single fear
No fuel for his ego
No warmth for his heart
Just a lonely street corner
Their tear-stained dress, his voice, her choice
Deep in their skin do they confess
If God was real, he'd want perfect
God wouldn't make them a sin
A “he” or “she” is not needed
The silent voice of forgotten
Too afraid to speak, startled still
Too afraid to be saved
Gone but never forgotten
A son or daughter, broken
A wedding, thank this “God”
Where men can act as such
And women use their powder
But genders may stay pure
It is a sin, after all
A young girl watching the news
Filled with hate, this world turns
She is coming of age, is she not?
She understands their struggle
And ready she is to stand up
For she has kids to feed
For he just needs a meal
For they want to be real
For they were never heard
For they wed their own
She understands. She accepts.
She is ready.
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 12:55 AM UTC
once again she has mastered the art of getting stuck in the same empty room
the one in which she ends up in after a rough night
the intoxicated water streaming down her throat
and down the most sincere part of any women
flowing through every blood vessel
he grips her thighs
she accepts the hand shake
the welcome
the greeting
instead he is the one coming in
she serves tea coffee and truffles
around the house she is the tour guide
she opens the door to a room with double locks
as she is putting her clothes back on
he leaves
without a uttering a simple goodbye thank you
or ill never forget this
as she walks back into the room in her mind where he first sat
she notices the dust on the full plates and glasses
coffee untouched
tea untouched
truffles going bad
and she thinks to herself
how could I do such a thing
Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 7:49 PM UTC
Food for thought
Savor in flavor within structural tone
A former Competitive Bodybuilder who could hold his own
He exercised to gain and ate to maintain
It was dignity and honor in appreciation of aim
Being a Competitive Bodybuilder requires all intensity
But it was about winning on the stage spotlight being a reality
Yet beyond Bodybuilding, there was something about food and preparing a very exotic cuisine
You will see down the line in what I mean
The former Competitive Bodybuilder felt that being a Chef was always his dream
Now it will be a reality like a running stream
But to be a good Chef you need the right education and Mentor
Yes a Chef for sure
Bake until rise
Savor the taste with the right ingredients being the surprise
Being a competitive Bodybuilder, one accepts the challenges in being the best
But when it comes to a Cuisine Chef, it will be the food critics who will contest
Patrons that will eat a Chef’s dish will be the true confess
So ovens over the world
There is a Chef to make your taste buds swirl
What will he prepare?
That is something I won’t share
You will have to experience for yourself
Taste I am sure you will enjoy
This is a true story of a Chef
He has cooking to do with not much time left.
Ship Ahoy!
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 4:29 PM UTC
Why should I be afraid
Of the dark?
It accepts me into its shadows,
It comforts me in the night.
It allows me to be unseen.
I have become friends with the boogeyman,
And the monster under my bed.
Why should I be afraid
Of the dark?
When I have lived here
For years?
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
Men ‘love’ with their Muscles
Women with their hearts
This leads to some confusion
When sharing body parts!
When ***** asks ******
“Are you coming out to play?”
She wants some kind of guarantee
He’ll not just ****** then run away!
When he presents his love stick
Pretty it is not!
So, if a girl accepts it
She must like you a lot!
So tidy up your quiver bone
Keep your flesh tower fresh
Spice up your wee sausage
She’ll sort out the rest!
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 9:08 AM UTC
I am not the master of my writing
-
my writing masters me,
seizing me when the seizure is a sure thing,
it dictates to its enslaved scribe
what it desires this utensil to reveal and expel -
the contraries
who having battled to a ****** draw leaves the battlefield trembling with indecent indecision; the optimal conditions for its macrobiotic invasion of my brain stem;
the she-muse offers me two choices:
she wants a poem writ forthwith
on the lyrical expression
of depression and refusal is
non optional
so I fantasize escape and that becomes
her property as well;
evidence against me to be used at my trials,
the one where there is no statue of liberty
from the limitations of prior bad acts;
I offer the she-muse two choices:
give me a cabin with WiFi
and self-enforcement of solitary confinement and
tie me up with the rope remainders of broken bonds,
bonds that tied me up worse
when they were broken
and the peaceful withering
that won’t disrupt disturb nobody
from a distance
my other choice is to bury me
forthwith next to my parents
and shutter my constant tearing eyes which are drop-resistant
muse says that’s no choice
I own your voice stilled or not,
will bill your soul’s account for
denial of poetic services
weep; i don’t want the noises that curse this troubled
bodyship don’t want recollections good or bad
the muse-bitch cackles with insanity of delight
for she accepts this writ as partial payment
on her commission, whispers I love your
lyrical expressions of depression
that ****** recognition algorithms
alert me that seizing time is nigh
there is no on/off switch for one like you:
father son and holy ghost
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
I used to have an issue with my body.
Three years ago. 2015. The year of horrors.
My weight was 60 kilograms and I don’t remember if I had a few grams more, but it doesn’t a matter. The issues is that I was a bit fat. I have never been fat. I was sad about it and I had a lot of problems more in that year.
My principal problem was that when all of my girlfriends developed their body, I had a little girl body. My body begins to develop and that was when I turned fat, I didn’t like myself, personal problems, more issues. I increased 15 kilograms. I was really depressed. I started hating me more.
Between 2016 and 2017, my body started changing. I lost weight, I hadn’t got issues with me anymore. That was really amazing.
End of 2017 and this year (2018), my body changed completely. I don’t have the body that I used to own in 2015. I am thin and happy, but sometimes when I look at myself in the mirror, unconsciously I see myself as I was in 2015, fat.
That kills me.
Kills me more knowing that I couldn’t talk with my mother about it, because she didn’t understand it. But I could talk with my best friend and with my auntie because they understand it. I’m thankful about it.
What more kills me is the fact that I know that my body it’s thin but my mind shows me another thing, which I hate and makes me sad.
But today, July 25, 2018. My weight is 48 kilograms. I see the real me. I see myself thin. Now my unconscious accepts that I’m thin again. I’m really happy now because that is the body that I had all my entire life, that is the body that I want and which I’m in love with. I’m glad that I got back what I always wanted.
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 2:08 AM UTC
*He makes me feel beautiful*
Which I have never felt before
I've always had my doubts and could never be too sure
Cause they told me I was ugly
They told me I was fat
They joked about me and never had regrets
And I sat there and I laughed it off but it hurt me inside
So bad that I got off the bus and ran straight to my room to cry
And I got on my knees and prayed at my window and asked the lord
"Why is this happening to me?" and it started when I was four
And yes, I still remember that far back
Cause being bullied is it's own feeling of being jumped or attacked
And *he makes me feel beautiful*
Cause he looks me in my eyes and tells me that I am and I can tell it's not a lie...
Because instead of posting pictures I have edited and cropped
And having boys tell me I'm pretty through messages in my inbox...
*He makes me feel beautiful*
Cause he means what he says
And a few other people have told me I am cute but I thought they were just kidding
Cause I have programmed myself to thinking my beauty is forbidden
Which means that I could never be a girl that is praised
For her good looks, her perfect body, and her Aphrodite face.
*He makes me feel beautiful*
Cause even though I have flaws
He accepts them and makes me feel like I have none at all
So maybe I am pretty and I am starting to think better
Of myself instead of looking in the mirror with a look so bitter
*He makes me feel beautiful*
And when he tells me so with such a serious voice, I get chills
Cause he's the first person that hasn't made me feel completely ill
By insulting or pointing out one of my many imperfections
But instead trying to help get rid if that negative venom
That people have slowly injected into my mind
Making my optimism die slowly over time
Making me get violent and defensive and making me less kind
To the point I get a rush to commit a deadly crime
Then they say I'm crazy and continue with the names
It's a cycle, a stupid circle, a horrible made up game
That has expanded to the point where death is how you win
And I would of won this game if it wasn't for my kin
*He makes me feel beautiful* outside and in
So I wrote this in dedication to that special him
For helping me realize more than ever in my life
That maybe I am beautiful and I've been this way for a very long time...
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 7:07 PM UTC
Brokenhearted lovers.
Learn to let go.
To try to control anyone.
Means you have no control at all.
Brokenhearted lovers.
Seek ways to heal.
Losing a lover is a bitter pill.
But move on.
Readjust your feelings to be free of hurt.
And it starts the moment you accepts the hurt.
Insecurity is a weakness of fear.
When you yearn for your love.
Who has found another?
Even if they were dishonest with you.
Accept it as a sign.
They wasn't worth of the essence of you.
Built up a inner strength that you control.
And when the next lover comes along.
They will cherish you more than you thought possible.
Counsel yourself.
All because it's free.
And you'll find in yourself.
A strength that can't be bent.
So brokenheart soul explore yourself.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 11:41 PM UTC
She doesn't dress up for you.
How naive of you to even think that's true.
Her taking a few drinks or wearing a short dress.
Definitely does not mean that it's a yes.
She doesn't take those pictures for you to see and judge.
She does it because she accepts herself, every scar, every bulge.
She wears whatever she wants to wear.
And not so you can stand and stare.
She does everything she does only for herself.
Because she isn't ashamed of her imperfections, she loves them instead.
But God forbid a girl love herself in this society.
For she will then be destroyed by the patriarchy.
Yet she has risen above all the shaming, all the hate and all the horrible expectations they've had.
Do you really think that's so bad?
She doesn't care anymore if you put her down.
She is a queen and her confidence her crown.
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 11:06 AM UTC
I don't plan for your actual existence
but if that happens and you find this
I want you to know that I do love you
even though all I my life when talking about children I said I never wanted to
but if I ever change my mind
I'm going to leave this for you to find
because I want you to know all I want is for you to be happy
I hope you can get that from me
I hope that you never stop following your dreams
no matter how impossible they seem
because if you set your mind to it
you can achieve anything
my future offspring
I would love you with everything
I wouldn't want anything to ever hurt you
even know I know that will never be true
but the most I can do is keep you healthy and safe
because this world is a twisted place
which is why I never planned to bring you into this basket case
I hope that society accepts you for who you are
no matter your *** orientation, gender, or your car
because you are worth so much more than this list
you are the only you that exists
you are more than what society tells you
you are the only one in charge of your truth
don't let society tell you are you are merely handsome or pretty
because these traits fade and are petty
it just matters how good your soul is
because everything about you flows from this
to my future darling, the thing that changed my everything
never forget that you don't have the best at something
just be the best person around and no one will turn that down
you don't exist and might never
but the least I can do is promise these things to you forever
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 12:56 AM UTC