"accredit" poems - Hello Poetry

I grew up in a home where words like "atheist" and "agnostic", if uttered, were shoved under rugs or place mats or quilt-work sentiments reading "God Bless This Home" And so I too, would hide from those who hid from God. But then amongst the distaste and disregard of things less than God, I Became An Evangelist! Ah, yes! Because whose soul doesn't want to be saved by a thirteen year old with a clever Christian saying on his shirt that's a size too small? But not only that, no. I dragged my friends along with me. We were, in fact, a regular children's crusade. But I was a little bigot. I pushed away those who pushed away God, shocked at the thought that anyone could not believe in what now seems completely unbelievable. I even scorned the science teacher who had the audacity to introduce the evil of evolution. I was on fire. But then the Devil himself put Kurt Vonnegut on my lap. Yes, I accredit my loss of faith to a crazy science fiction writer. At least, he pushed the first domino. And my God, I was afraid. Afraid of feelings of distance Afraid of questions that never seemed to have an answer. Afraid I was losing myself. I struggled with the traditional questions, of course: Why would a benevolent God send good people to hell for not believing? Is he that insecure? If he is omnipotent, wouldn't he know what he was getting into when he created such sinful little ***** Why should we be indicted simply because we were born? How does He expect me to give Him my entire life? Fast forward about four years. I'm eating lunch with my oldest sister, a philosophy major, no less. She tells me how she experienced almost the exact same thing I did. And after an inward struggle of four years, finally I had the courage to admit my Agnosticism to myself. I simply did not know. How could I? But now I'm left to deal with my friends, and most of all my mother. I should not feel guilty for my beliefs, or lack thereof. I am an agnostic. I am a humanist. I am on fire.

0

Sep 16, 2014

Sep 16, 2014 at 7:42 PM UTC

nemonobody

All My Friends Are Christians: The Story of the Closeted Agnostic

I grew up in a home where words like "atheist" and "agnostic", if uttered, were shoved under rugs or place mats or quilt-work sentiments reading "God Bless This Home" And so I too, would hide from those who hid from God. But then amongst the distaste and disregard of things less than God, I Became An Evangelist! Ah, yes! Because whose soul doesn't want to be saved by a thirteen year old with a clever Christian saying on his shirt that's a size too small? But not only that, no. I dragged my friends along with me. We were, in fact, a regular children's crusade. But I was a little bigot. I pushed away those who pushed away God, shocked at the thought that anyone could not believe in what now seems completely unbelievable. I even scorned the science teacher who had the audacity to introduce the evil of evolution. I was on fire. But then the Devil himself put Kurt Vonnegut on my lap. Yes, I accredit my loss of faith to a crazy science fiction writer. At least, he pushed the first domino. And my God, I was afraid. Afraid of feelings of distance Afraid of questions that never seemed to have an answer. Afraid I was losing myself. I struggled with the traditional questions, of course: Why would a benevolent God send good people to hell for not believing? Is he that insecure? If he is omnipotent, wouldn't he know what he was getting into when he created such sinful little ***** Why should we be indicted simply because we were born? How does He expect me to give Him my entire life? Fast forward about four years. I'm eating lunch with my oldest sister, a philosophy major, no less. She tells me how she experienced almost the exact same thing I did. And after an inward struggle of four years, finally I had the courage to admit my Agnosticism to myself. I simply did not know. How could I? But now I'm left to deal with my friends, and most of all my mother. I should not feel guilty for my beliefs, or lack thereof. I am an agnostic. I am a humanist. I am on fire.

62

If a bell tolls... For whom, is a lover known? Threshold to act upon weary eyes, oh you soul The creation we find, in void moments sown... A rue of compassion The till in evidential hills Sun and wine, to tell a tale to promises lasting... A herald of simple gifts and rises of poise, will Lovers to the end Exactly need, in voice's portrayal And seeking guidance for a named lip, here is mend In the scope of distance and reality of a soul Succinctly new? And with sense's favors, to claim a richness of good... In the speed we accredit to love, is worth a filial who? Seeing the gesture bloomed, is fate acts or paces, new? Heed me when the holiday is over, lover Might's to consider a whole, if a liberty is to be The thought of romance, is a changing season, meant dour In the shared seldom, of when a passion has it, to lead... A fruit of conscience A hap of solace, predestined to same A reason of couth, to collect a hardier presence A wish of blessing the best you have to often, and the patience of fame

0

Jul 5, 2023

Jul 5, 2023 at 7:15 PM UTC

david-hilburn

Why Love, Is A Wisdom's Shoulder (Baring Wait...)

If a bell tolls... For whom, is a lover known? Threshold to act upon weary eyes, oh you soul The creation we find, in void moments sown... A rue of compassion The till in evidential hills Sun and wine, to tell a tale to promises lasting... A herald of simple gifts and rises of poise, will Lovers to the end Exactly need, in voice's portrayal And seeking guidance for a named lip, here is mend In the scope of distance and reality of a soul Succinctly new? And with sense's favors, to claim a richness of good... In the speed we accredit to love, is worth a filial who? Seeing the gesture bloomed, is fate acts or paces, new? Heed me when the holiday is over, lover Might's to consider a whole, if a liberty is to be The thought of romance, is a changing season, meant dour In the shared seldom, of when a passion has it, to lead... A fruit of conscience A hap of solace, predestined to same A reason of couth, to collect a hardier presence A wish of blessing the best you have to often, and the patience of fame

24

I always believed scars were so beautiful, until I became one. A walking, breathing, talking scar - an unchanging reminder of what was and what shall never be again. I became the scar reminiscent of our love- or rather my love because you were the definition of unrequited and I used to like that about you - your unwaveringly selfish nature, I used to accredit it to your self belief but then I realised you got that from stripping away mine. Bit by bit you became who you were by chipping away at pieces of my soul. Catching the dust of all my dreams and beliefs in your hands and then sifting through it to get what you needed. Some days you needed a lover. You needed the heat of my hands raw against the planes of your back- which I had studied in such a neurotically engrossed manner-that surprised even you. Other days you needed a slave, bent upon raw knees to serve your every whim and not in a ****** sense because you made it clear that I was repulsive to you most of the time. No, you needed someone to serve you and worship at the temple that was your being. You needed a women to be enslaved to your love. You needed to be served and ushered and elevated with no emotional connection. You needed an unchanging commitment that only served you. You see, I was forever trying to be what you needed and in that attempt-that feigned attempt at what I used to believe was love, I lost myself. Wading through parts of you that you didn't even care to understand I lost myself. Raw on my knees. Wading barefoot through your soul. Between the sheets- crawling towards you milimeter by milimeter only for you to move further each time. Tracing the planes of your burning back. That's when I lost myself,and became a scar. Evidence of all the times you hurt me in a marvelously unflinching and unforgiving way... All of which I realised when I was destitute. You see you used to be my home but then the season of our love expired and you threw me out and as I walked the streets of my new life, navigating what it meant to exist without you, I had an earth shatteringly glorious ephiphany - that loving you and being destitute were the same thing. So here I am. A scar that walks and talks and breathes and the great thing about this scar is that I'm evidence of a healed wound. I am no longer raw from loving you and I am no longer lost. I'm a *** who smiles with no teeth.

0

Jul 12, 2015

Jul 12, 2015 at 3:43 AM UTC

SANKOFA

Scar.

I always believed scars were so beautiful, until I became one. A walking, breathing, talking scar - an unchanging reminder of what was and what shall never be again. I became the scar reminiscent of our love- or rather my love because you were the definition of unrequited and I used to like that about you - your unwaveringly selfish nature, I used to accredit it to your self belief but then I realised you got that from stripping away mine. Bit by bit you became who you were by chipping away at pieces of my soul. Catching the dust of all my dreams and beliefs in your hands and then sifting through it to get what you needed. Some days you needed a lover. You needed the heat of my hands raw against the planes of your back- which I had studied in such a neurotically engrossed manner-that surprised even you. Other days you needed a slave, bent upon raw knees to serve your every whim and not in a ****** sense because you made it clear that I was repulsive to you most of the time. No, you needed someone to serve you and worship at the temple that was your being. You needed a women to be enslaved to your love. You needed to be served and ushered and elevated with no emotional connection. You needed an unchanging commitment that only served you. You see, I was forever trying to be what you needed and in that attempt-that feigned attempt at what I used to believe was love, I lost myself. Wading through parts of you that you didn't even care to understand I lost myself. Raw on my knees. Wading barefoot through your soul. Between the sheets- crawling towards you milimeter by milimeter only for you to move further each time. Tracing the planes of your burning back. That's when I lost myself,and became a scar. Evidence of all the times you hurt me in a marvelously unflinching and unforgiving way... All of which I realised when I was destitute. You see you used to be my home but then the season of our love expired and you threw me out and as I walked the streets of my new life, navigating what it meant to exist without you, I had an earth shatteringly glorious ephiphany - that loving you and being destitute were the same thing. So here I am. A scar that walks and talks and breathes and the great thing about this scar is that I'm evidence of a healed wound. I am no longer raw from loving you and I am no longer lost. I'm a *** who smiles with no teeth.

22

I believe that I control my happiness. Every day, I see people that go to school, go to work, and they act as if they don’t control what happens to them. When they are sad, it is because the universe is being unfair, and when they’re elated, they accredit it to the alignment of the moon, stars, and planets. I know that they are wrong. I know because I have lost control of myself, and thus, my happiness. I am in a state of disrepair. My grades are slipping, my relationships are devolving, and my mind is cloudy with doubt. I am not happy. Nothing I do seems rewarding, and even the distractions I can manage to squeeze in only delay an inevitable tumble back into the depths of the dark pit I call my life. How did this happen? How could I let this happen? Here I am. Standing at the bottom of a hole and knowing only one thing: I dug myself here. Maybe it couldn’t be helped? Sometimes I get behind, sometimes I get buried in my work, and sometimes things are bad for no other reason than just plain bad luck. I know these are somewhat true, but in my case, I know exactly what I did to get here. I made inexcusable decisions each day: to play a video game instead of finishing my math homework, to read a play instead of reading my history book, or to laze around instead of getting done what needed to be done. I chose to put-off and half-ass, knowing full well that they would only dig me further into the hole. I chose to close myself off and to become snide and moody. I made these choices; I chose to be unhappy. I brought this future upon myself. I regret, in advance, the hours that must be spent recovering from my missteps, yet I still go on to make the same mistakes before I’ve fixed those I’ve already created. Hedonism and lack of discipline got me here. I loathe the things I wish I hadn’t done but those opportunities are in the past, forever lost. I seek to change my future. I seek to be happy once again. I believe that this essay has come at a bad time in my life. I am low, lower than ever before. I want to get out of here, and it is my belief that I can, with work and determination, clamber out of this hole and rediscover the light of happiness. I will be stronger for it. By climbing out of the pit on a ladder of hard lessons, I will emerge with the wisdom that can only be learned when one faces oblivion. This I believe: happiness is something I control and there is still a chance for me to seize it. I know this because I have done it before, and I believe that I can do it again.

0

Oct 12, 2010

Oct 12, 2010 at 4:18 PM UTC

wave-break

This I believe

I believe that I control my happiness. Every day, I see people that go to school, go to work, and they act as if they don’t control what happens to them. When they are sad, it is because the universe is being unfair, and when they’re elated, they accredit it to the alignment of the moon, stars, and planets. I know that they are wrong. I know because I have lost control of myself, and thus, my happiness. I am in a state of disrepair. My grades are slipping, my relationships are devolving, and my mind is cloudy with doubt. I am not happy. Nothing I do seems rewarding, and even the distractions I can manage to squeeze in only delay an inevitable tumble back into the depths of the dark pit I call my life. How did this happen? How could I let this happen? Here I am. Standing at the bottom of a hole and knowing only one thing: I dug myself here. Maybe it couldn’t be helped? Sometimes I get behind, sometimes I get buried in my work, and sometimes things are bad for no other reason than just plain bad luck. I know these are somewhat true, but in my case, I know exactly what I did to get here. I made inexcusable decisions each day: to play a video game instead of finishing my math homework, to read a play instead of reading my history book, or to laze around instead of getting done what needed to be done. I chose to put-off and half-ass, knowing full well that they would only dig me further into the hole. I chose to close myself off and to become snide and moody. I made these choices; I chose to be unhappy. I brought this future upon myself. I regret, in advance, the hours that must be spent recovering from my missteps, yet I still go on to make the same mistakes before I’ve fixed those I’ve already created. Hedonism and lack of discipline got me here. I loathe the things I wish I hadn’t done but those opportunities are in the past, forever lost. I seek to change my future. I seek to be happy once again. I believe that this essay has come at a bad time in my life. I am low, lower than ever before. I want to get out of here, and it is my belief that I can, with work and determination, clamber out of this hole and rediscover the light of happiness. I will be stronger for it. By climbing out of the pit on a ladder of hard lessons, I will emerge with the wisdom that can only be learned when one faces oblivion. This I believe: happiness is something I control and there is still a chance for me to seize it. I know this because I have done it before, and I believe that I can do it again.

6

Dude! party tonight at 9, be there or: - be somewhere else which would decrease the amount of admiration people accredit you. - stay at home and catch up on some important tasks. - be likened to a geometrical shape composed of for lines of equal length, each separated by ninety degree angles. - don't, it's your choice after all. I just really want to see you and catch up.

0

Jul 15, 2013

Jul 15, 2013 at 1:53 AM UTC

choupinette

Square

Dude! party tonight at 9, be there or: - be somewhere else which would decrease the amount of admiration people accredit you. - stay at home and catch up on some important tasks. - be likened to a geometrical shape composed of for lines of equal length, each separated by ninety degree angles. - don't, it's your choice after all. I just really want to see you and catch up.

5

Why do I fail to accredit my own thoughts? For you have told me certainty, I assume, I long for every final fragment of you're existence and place, So I claim, I know that I will fly, Fly with the dread of suffocation, Fly with the apprehension of regularity, Someday soon, No change, But still I need, I need.

0

Sep 3, 2013

Sep 3, 2013 at 6:09 PM UTC

carly-mc-nevin

Future flight

Why do I fail to accredit my own thoughts? For you have told me certainty, I assume, I long for every final fragment of you're existence and place, So I claim, I know that I will fly, Fly with the dread of suffocation, Fly with the apprehension of regularity, Someday soon, No change, But still I need, I need.

11

We received waves through our minds, a connection we didn’t understand. Agreement Agreement. Still we equal two mysteries to each other The *********** of our minds leaves our bodies with warmth that others seek in the physical world Confused qualities clean the relationship they accredit us as perfect this fine perfect view leaves me addled. His body leaves me lonely Hopeless Acrimonious My heart is left in a warm flood I don’t want to move.

0

Oct 12, 2011

Oct 12, 2011 at 1:21 PM UTC

annaleisa

The Flood

We received waves through our minds, a connection we didn’t understand. Agreement Agreement. Still we equal two mysteries to each other The *********** of our minds leaves our bodies with warmth that others seek in the physical world Confused qualities clean the relationship they accredit us as perfect this fine perfect view leaves me addled. His body leaves me lonely Hopeless Acrimonious My heart is left in a warm flood I don’t want to move.

14

Initially when you caught my eye not ever i deduced it would be the foundation The trifling chattels you did, seems to have hitched enduringly with zest Still can’t accredit it has concluded and i am situated heeding to your best loved hymn hoping i could fabricate, but within i know can’t orignate. The deterioration is worse than the estimation. Carrying you in the consoled memories dear companion here i’ll say goodbye.

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Apr 10, 2016

Apr 10, 2016 at 11:08 AM UTC

nikita-2

Letting go

Initially when you caught my eye not ever i deduced it would be the foundation The trifling chattels you did, seems to have hitched enduringly with zest Still can’t accredit it has concluded and i am situated heeding to your best loved hymn hoping i could fabricate, but within i know can’t orignate. The deterioration is worse than the estimation. Carrying you in the consoled memories dear companion here i’ll say goodbye.

14

This is a story begun Never ended Everytime I try Just shush, just listen It's all fuzzy, glitching I can not seem to find my motivation in anything Unless prompted by a grade I can pass your course, yet I'll fail my life I'd dream myself to be something other than a student If your class didnt take all my time If I did not spend my nights trying to find a reason why ... Knowledge makes me want to die Consume my mind A few more credits to accredit my worth Unassisted, a lack of support tore my nature to explore and gave me the power to put on a wry smile and lie Mutter, "I'm fine"

0

Oct 24, 2019

Oct 24, 2019 at 8:49 PM UTC

ladymisfortune

High School

This is a story begun Never ended Everytime I try Just shush, just listen It's all fuzzy, glitching I can not seem to find my motivation in anything Unless prompted by a grade I can pass your course, yet I'll fail my life I'd dream myself to be something other than a student If your class didnt take all my time If I did not spend my nights trying to find a reason why ... Knowledge makes me want to die Consume my mind A few more credits to accredit my worth Unassisted, a lack of support tore my nature to explore and gave me the power to put on a wry smile and lie Mutter, "I'm fine"

17

Your nature, overwhelming. With the exception of your “Big Easy” vibes? For now, let’s accredit it to your welcoming charm. The one that told me it was normal to have a sleepless night. You turn saxophones into soft lullabies And celebrate a selective variety of anything. You have alcoholic tendencies. And privacy really is an illusion with you. You do not have strangers. Family is what makes sense. You’re beautiful. Unique. Eccentric. And blue. You’re comfort. Fun. Inappropriate. Sin. You’re love. Beautiful. You are my sweet New Orleans.

0

Oct 9, 2015

Oct 9, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC

olive-2

My Sweet New Orleans

Your nature, overwhelming. With the exception of your “Big Easy” vibes? For now, let’s accredit it to your welcoming charm. The one that told me it was normal to have a sleepless night. You turn saxophones into soft lullabies And celebrate a selective variety of anything. You have alcoholic tendencies. And privacy really is an illusion with you. You do not have strangers. Family is what makes sense. You’re beautiful. Unique. Eccentric. And blue. You’re comfort. Fun. Inappropriate. Sin. You’re love. Beautiful. You are my sweet New Orleans.

21

Dear, Arabia Ohana, This brief but edenic stint shared en masse and peripherally has, a fortiori, made me brimfully ecstatic to have become apart of this ohana. This parcel is to impart my incredulously revered kismeted perspective on this pleasant billet symbiosis that I accredit to the deific clairvoyant who fondly granted our correspondence with utmost prudence. I cannot convince myself some lackadaisical serendipity materialized this perfectly pertinent vista. With profound sentiment I personally express how this considerably blessed boon has merited profuse gratitude, absolute admiration and the reverent affection from my entire family as of quandam, contempto and nigh. With genuine gratitudinous laud Jesse Revollar

0

Jul 5, 2018

Jul 5, 2018 at 11:17 PM UTC

ZestyADD

Thank you

Dear, Arabia Ohana, This brief but edenic stint shared en masse and peripherally has, a fortiori, made me brimfully ecstatic to have become apart of this ohana. This parcel is to impart my incredulously revered kismeted perspective on this pleasant billet symbiosis that I accredit to the deific clairvoyant who fondly granted our correspondence with utmost prudence. I cannot convince myself some lackadaisical serendipity materialized this perfectly pertinent vista. With profound sentiment I personally express how this considerably blessed boon has merited profuse gratitude, absolute admiration and the reverent affection from my entire family as of quandam, contempto and nigh. With genuine gratitudinous laud Jesse Revollar

4

New, not better. Giving, not more forgiving. Loving, not lovelier. Softer, not the softest. Brave, not the bravest. Kind, not kinder. Neverending, not ephemeral, because, I pray she can stay forever with someone as precious as you, but, she’ll need to know who made you so precious in the first place, and , please, give me some credit. - it’s only fair, I always accredit you when I’m told I’m picky, because, someone had to be the first to be everything I did not need. -Chloe Aldecoa

0

Oct 4, 2017

Oct 4, 2017 at 3:52 PM UTC

cmaldecoa

Sin Amor.

New, not better. Giving, not more forgiving. Loving, not lovelier. Softer, not the softest. Brave, not the bravest. Kind, not kinder. Neverending, not ephemeral, because, I pray she can stay forever with someone as precious as you, but, she’ll need to know who made you so precious in the first place, and , please, give me some credit. - it’s only fair, I always accredit you when I’m told I’m picky, because, someone had to be the first to be everything I did not need. -Chloe Aldecoa

12

Privilege to some is a tiny white lie hid in an empty closet Others accredit and acknowledge the privilege given to them Its incomprehensible how color now receipts given privilege Its unknown and biased who the specific one who gives such power to whom.

0

Nov 4, 2020

Nov 4, 2020 at 8:35 PM UTC

nicole4nicole

Privilege

Privilege to some is a tiny white lie hid in an empty closet Others accredit and acknowledge the privilege given to them Its incomprehensible how color now receipts given privilege Its unknown and biased who the specific one who gives such power to whom.

5