"actuality" poems
Freedom from hunger and freedom from pain
freedom from loss and so freedom from gain.
Freedom to give and freedom to share
freedom from want and that of despair.
Freedom to think and freedom to know
freedom to achieve and freedom to grow.
Freedom from ******* and freedom of liberation
freedom from ignorance and any unknown situation.
Freedom to come and freedom to leave
freedom to stay and freedom to conceive.
Freedom from struggle and freedom of ease
freedom to enjoy and the capacity to please.
Freedom from failure and freedom of success
freedom from denial and freedom of access.
Freedom from illusion and freedom of reality
freedom to become what we are in actuality.
Freedom to live and freedom to die
freedom to laugh and freedom to cry.
Freedom to speak and freedom to listen
freedom to act based on a wise decision.
Freedom from hate and freedom of love
freedom of below and freedom of above.
Freedom of the past and freedom of the present
freedom of the future and what it can represent.
Freedom from war and freedom of peace
freedom to begin and freedom to cease.
Freedom from sickness and freedom of health
freedom from poverty and mishandled wealth.
Freedom from wrong and freedom being right
freedom of the day and freedom of the night.
Freedom to choose and freedom to reject
freedom to imagine what there is to expect.
Freedom from lust and freedom from greed
freedom from anger and freedom from breed.
Freedom from jealousy and freedom from pride
freedom from within and freedom from outside.
Freedom of always not having anything to hide.
Freedom from space and also freedom from time
freedom from attachment and freedom from crime
Freedom to work and freedom to play
freedom to believe and freedom to pray.
Freedom to experience a rebirth someday.
Freedom from the body and freedom from the mind
freedom from the ego and freedom from being blind.
Freedom of transcendence being of the spiritual kind.
Universal freedom is eternal and infinite bliss
we should all therefore be able to realise this.
Nov 21, 2010
Nov 21, 2010 at 1:23 AM UTC
The hardest part of growing up is the disappointment. The rules of fairness get thrown out the window and it's up to you to pursue your interests. Each person becomes their own main priority. Self preservation. Your heart loses it value to others, your feelings no longer spared. Doing what is right mistaken with what feels right. My problem as of lately has been not doing what has felt right, but what's best for me, finding who's best for me.
Now, don't mistake me. He was a dream. My eyes glittered when I smiled. The first tender touch that scared me, but I was too proud to flinch. Laughter was endless, love ran lucratively. I guess you could say he was the beginning of my disappointment. No kiss could be as sweet.
The next was the captain of saving. He loved the skin I was in and taught me to do the same. He gave me affection, recognition, and a dilemma of delicacy. So sweet yet so twisted, wicked some may say. The sweet taste of sin. My disappointment grew with the seduction of satan.
Now I transition. The ending of a roller coaster. The disappointment began with the first drunken "I love you" I started to believe it myself. In actuality, I think I was just trying to fill the void that sweet kiss originally gave me. Nothing else could replace it. Not even his return. These short romances burn out quickly, only lasting months at a time, but experiencing the most significant of moments. Together, my loves have caused my heart to wither more and more. But it's those small moments that make it all worth it. The moments that I knew somewhere in the midst of the mess they learned to love me, even if it wasn't forever. It happened, and in these moments disappointment grew because I knew they'd eventually end.
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 7:47 PM UTC
The stigma that sensitive people are weak needs to diminish.
Just because she feels things down to her bones does not mean she is weak.
She carries everything. Her feelings, other people’s feelings, the world around her as she takes it all in.
* * *
Sensitivity is deemed feeble.
Thick-skinned people are the brave ones, right? They have endured so much that they no longer feel anything. Snide remarks, rude comments, and stressful situations roll off their skin like water during a storm. If it’s already pouring, why worry about each droplet?
* * *
That is the problem, she thought to herself. Are brave people truly brave?
No.
Brave people are the true cowards. Rather than taking their experiences and feeling them, letting them seep into their bones to become the marrow which fuels their bodies, they shut them away; skeletons in a closet.
They have become numb to the baggage they carry at the expense of growing numb to everything else.
* * *
People around her are merely living in this world, she decided, whereas she was absorbing it.
In the spring she lays in the grass, running her fingers through each blade as if it were the Earth’s hair.
When summer nights bring a light breeze, she imagines spirits are hugging her.
In the fall when it rains, she spreads her arms wide and gazes up to the sky, knowing that each water droplet that falls is Mother Nature peppering her skin with kisses.
* * *
Others are too preoccupied making sure their skeletons do not peer out of the closet.
Strength, after all, is the ability to withstand vast amounts of pressure and God knows how much force those skeletons must bear.
* * *
In the middle of the night, her father hears her talking to someone, except there is no response. It is as if she is conversing with herself when in actuality, she is conversing with her skeletons.
After midnight when others have drifted off to sleep, hoping that their skeletons do not come to haunt them, she is wide awake, her closet door open.
She lays in bed and asks her anxiety how it’s day was, laughs at a witty comment that her depression has made about her life, and gives thanks to the insult a bully gave her in the first grade for making her the person she is today.
The things that should weigh her down, she has befriended. They come to visit so often, anyways.
* * *
She wonders how someone who has mastered the art of suppressing their feelings is braver than someone who has mastered the art of acknowledging their feelings.
The strength it takes to keep the closet door shut is immense.
However, it takes an unsurpassable amount of resilience to carry the world in her heart and soul while still having the courage to open her closet without being afraid of the things that could jump out at her.
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 3:49 PM UTC
I ran into a ghost today
And by ghost, I mean a person from my past
And by person from my past, I mean an old friend, who I really used to care about.
And by ran into I mean we passed each other in the hallway,
we looked up then looked away then looked back one more time, realizing at this point we couldn’t pretend we didn’t see each other.
He was so kind and he was so gentle
and I was so scared, I tried to run away
yet at the same time all I wanted in that moment was to stay and talk to him.
We hardly said five words,
then he pretended to be meeting a friend
and I pretended I was late for class,
though in actuality my class didn’t start for forty-five more minutes.
I ran down the hall and sat in the corner alone, hating myself for not being able to ask one simple question.
“how are you?”
“how’s your family?”
“Are you happy?”
Cause all I ever wanted was for you to be happy.
I know it didn’t seem that way
But I was selfish, and you were young and I was young.
And then the anxiety came on and my chest started to hurt and the feeling reminded me of why I don’t make friends anymore.
Then the teacher showed up and asked me if I was okay.
And the pounding turned to aching,
that simmered into a dull pain.
I smiled and said yes.
He said that I wore my emotions on my face.
And I laughed and said thank you.
Then I went on with my day.
But the aching Is still there,
It will probably never leave.
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 12:16 AM UTC
I swear I'm leaving right now
Yet I'm still running around in a rush
&& STILL no pants on
They lie somewhere on my floor
If I don't leave now I'm going be late for sure...hmm got everything.. OH WAIT!!!
SERIOUSLY...again..WOOOOW
FUUUUCK quit messing with your hair & put down your BRUSH!!
**** 15 minutes later **** & I'm still NOT gone
Almost out the door...
SON OF A BITCH...WHERE THE **** ARE MY KEYS..GREAT!!
Now speeding like a police chase
Weaving in & out of traffic lane by lane
Trying to beat the clock & it's tick tocks
A sound I SERIOUSLY ******* HATE
I'm barely on time, a few minutes to spare
It is a WAAAY too familiar race
It's an endless ******* trend, driving me insane
It's like a whole day of me wearing matching socks
SOOOOO, SO WHAT if I'm occasionally always LATE
At least I'm always never not eventually there but still at least there
&& DOESN'T MATTER where it is I'm going
If there is a specific time of arrival expected
Don't tell me that correct time
UNLESS..... In all actuality the arrival time is actually irrelevant
Since I know you have a "PARTY ALL THE TIME" way to celebrate
Then please keep on shuffling when my face is showing
Lateness is something I've so EPICALLY PERFECTED
If I had a nickel for every time I was early, I'd have a MOTHER ******* DIME!!!
Being on time & I have just always been so distant
That's why punctuality & I will never relate!!!
A WHITE RABBIT
GO, GO, GO
NOW IT'S MY ******* HABIT
WOULDN'T YA KNOW
ALWAYS IN A HURRY
YELLING "IM LATE! IM LATE!"
BUT I UNDERSTAND THAT FEELING OF WORRY
TRAGICALLY IT'S NOT THAT EASY TO ABOLISH OR ANNIHILATE
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC
Bad luck didn't stop us.
We walked, gazed at the colored trees,
you at my eyes.
The leaves on the ground
I saw when I blushed.
A lot.
Violet red, pointed, wet leaves, scattered.
Around us.
The rain fell but
you held me.
I listened and smiled.
How perfect,
You're too sweet.
Expectations replaced with actuality.
Fear for what comes next.
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 10:56 PM UTC
a) i am the mortar incurring blow after blow
from the abrasive quality of your negligence.
no, i am herb between pestle and mortar
the full realization of 'rock and a hard place'
b) i am the mortar between each brick you lay,
in blue collar glory, or rock star slumming,
to bind shaky corridors of past serenity
and bear indiscretions on my limestone shoulders
c) i am the mortar you fire before crawling under covers
for inexpensive *** and trashier beer
by a lake on a camping trip where tents trump love
like the queen of spades in a hand of hearts
d) in fact, these are false, merely possibilities --
actuality: you were never enough
to make me spew homonyms in metaphor
because you were nothing like them,
always appearing changed but monotonous in meaning,
and if you're so into contraposition,
are we not but names for each other?
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
Dear *******
How dare you call me an attention *****
How dare you tell me you understand?
Tell me,
Do you know what it’s like to look at your reflection,
And turn the other way, ashamed?
Do you know what it’s like,
To know you’re you,
Down to the last hair,
And hate yourself for it?
To stare at yourself, to look into your own eyes, to try to convince yourself that it’s fine, but in actuality it’s a cover that you’ve learned to wear everywhere, that you’ve learned to love, because when you’re in it nobody knows?
Do you know what it’s like to walk everywhere, terrified, because you feel people looking at you like you have a giant sign that reads “DEPRESSED ANXIETY FAT UGLY NEVER ENOUGH SO KEEP WALKING”?
Tell me, do you know what it’s like to look in the mirror, force upon your face a smile, knowing it’s a mask that’s been permanently glued to you by your own tears that could never show?
No, you don’t know what it’s like to wipe away your smudged makeup that you’ve worked so hard on to cover up your tearstained eyes, your cuts.
To apply a new coat, to paint on a smile that’s only real in dreams.
*You know, they say dreams come true but forget that nightmares are dreams too.
They tell you the monsters are under your bed when they actually scream in your head.*
You don’t know what it’s like to feel lonely in a crowd, to know you’re not wanted.
To hold and rock yourself because there’s no one else to.
To realize that you’re all you have and doing your best to hide anyway,
Do you know what it’s like to want to die?
No.
You don’t and you never will.
But I do.
You don’t know me, or what I’ve been through.
So don’t ******* judge me for it.
Sincerely,
Me
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 9:14 PM UTC
Writing a story on a topic,
Hazing away at the microsoapics,
I write stories that aren’t meant to be fun,
Just the basic humdrum.
Reality is my Inspiration,
No matter the mood I’m in.
Dragons and Wizards are to be left on the bookshelves,
As I run to work,
And meet my colleagues for a day of writing reality.
We walk the world in actuality,
And see people with all different vitality.
People of all different ideas of reality.
They speak,
I listen,
I ask,
And they answer,
And we both learn about reality together.
I then write what I heard,
Tell what I saw,
And let the ideas fly like birds.
I've seen all people of life,
I've heard many of there trifes.
I laughed at their victories,
I cry at their lost,
And I hear all their vivid histories.
I write all types of reality,
From the memories of all different types of vitalities.
And as I write about how reality unfurls,
I write about the greatest dreams of this world
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 11:07 PM UTC
P r e t t y p e o p l e
W i t h p r e t t y w o r d s
B u t t h e y a r e u g l y
T h e i r s p e e c h i s s l u r r e d
They never show
Their real emotion
While people watch
Their every motion
Everything they have
Is fake
If they'd notice
They would break
They're living in
A fake reality
They need to wake up
To actuality
We always talk
Behind their backs
If they knew
They would crack
They think we love them
They think they're pretty
But they really don't
Deserve our pity
P r e t t y p e o p l e
W i t h p r e t t y w o r d s
B u t t h e y a r e u g l y
T h e i r s p e e c h i s s l u r r e d
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 3:36 PM UTC
You said you'd love me
No matter what I did--
I understand
You said it was alright
To have bad days--
I understand
You said that I could
Make my own decision--
I understand
You said it was okay
If we disagreed--
I understand
I understand that they were
Empty words
And that in actuality
You want me to be
A Sunshine Girl
All the time
I understand.
I'll go back to faking my smile.
I'll go back to crying in secret.
If you want me to be happy
I will be.
Don't worry about me--
If you ever have, I mean.
It's alright.
I understand.
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 8:46 AM UTC
Chills run down your spine
Caress with a caress, tender
Breaking a physical valve, meander
Touch to touch, unkeeping of the line
Unplanned, a mystery thick as pine
Feeling, shaking like thunder
Nothing short of splendor
Heart breaking without time
Pulling away from rush
Far from appeasement
No longer engrossed, no longer heated lush
Cold like the words he meant
Stinging like fireside brush
Kisses from fervent
14 April
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
I care a lot about what others think
which is why
I put up with so much ****
people can say what they want
about me and
I just end up laughing.
in actuality
I take everything to heart
and I always end up getting hurt
I'm afraid that if
I defend myself, I'll be labeled as a
***** and no one will like me.
I'm used to being pressured
and doing what people tell me to
despite how I feel
I'm tired of caring and I'm tired of being so spineless.
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
Imagine your eyes
as bluegreenhazelgrayamber
windows to actuality.
Now imagine your eyes
s lo w lllllllly
f
a
d
i
n
g
to
black.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 5:50 PM UTC
Considers protest at disrespect,
To be the sigil
Of a *****
In reality
He who chokes down ****
And smiles through it,
Is in actuality.
But what is it,
To remit?
Jun 15, 2023
Jun 15, 2023 at 2:55 PM UTC
Parallel universe
A universe redone
What is real
One in your mind is fun
One in your heart is what you feel
Multi layered love
Layers of human reality
When looking from above
Like the mourning dove
Who’s actuality
Is a lonely spotted seed
Only to detect
The things that work out perfectly
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 7:28 AM UTC
Amor Fati!
Sayed Nietzsche and wiped the tears from his face.
did he know the gravity of this insight with heavy clarity?
The grandiose, wishful celebration of life with the acceptance of faith
is but a mask that's too light to stand in the way of the actuality of reality,
We don't choose our faith, we can just accept it and try to love it
But can you truly love something that is staring you in the eye while pulling the trigger of oblivion?
I doubt it.
If you are lucky,
the face of faith is a loving, caring young women
with the future in her eyes,
giving you slight signs about how great it will be when tomorrow comes.
But back to the executor,
what about Him, huh?
How can you take the Ultimate Dismissal with pride and love??
How can you see the mechanics of evolution,
the generation of many different individuals,
with a wide distribution of traits.
Of which just a few golden combinations
are well suited for the specific moment
Understanding, that the rest of the beings,
who have feelings (especially those of suffering)
Will prove themselves unworthy to enter the Gates of the next stage of selection?
I don’t know.
But I do hope you are the one who will enter
I do hope I will too
But my hope is of no effect
We will just see what life shows to be correct
Until then let’s not spoil the moment and save the regret
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 6:56 AM UTC
Its as if
A solemn oath
To reminiscence
Had memories
Had dreams
Are you tired of me yet?
It just seems
A luxury given
Fluffed pillows
Explaining the simplicity of slumber
Had a memory
Your a dream
Are you gone from me yet?
It was fact
Actuality
Nirvana upon purple hills
Had memories
Haunted dreams
Are you done with me yet?
It was peaceful
A gloomy rainy day
A solemn oath
A luxury given
Fluffed pillows
Nirvana upon purple hills
Delicious night
Filled by yellow pills
Are you high off me yet?
Its as if
You were a memory
Within a dream
A haunted nightmare
So it seemed
Stuck in limbo
Or purgatory
No longer deserving your glory
Naive
Gentle
Kisses
Sweet and simple
Sent me flying high
Are you tired of me yet?
Leave me to runaway
I'm Wilson
Castaway
I am gone from you yet..
Nirvana on purple hills
Fought the fray
Are you done with me yet?
Roaming
To home im phoning
Airplanes
Night walkers
Street and sweet talkers
Getting high off me yet?
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 10:27 PM UTC
“and he will rule over you.”
I am not ready to release my religion
the consistency of it has grown with me
i am afraid
if i unleash it from my soul
the preached darkness will consume it
i am afraid
that the possibility of its factuality and actuality
will hover in the atmosphere at noon
i am afraid
that by dismissing God too soon
he will dismiss me
Ironically, with my gaining of knowledge,
i have come to begrudge the man in the sky
who has cursed my *** to serve man
to be taken out of man, to exist only within man
he has given a text for those to quote
when arguing the entrapment of women
how am i to recognize the being
when he has ****** me
to be at the elbow of an entire gender
has blamed my kind for the original sin of sins
The Bible has shaped the complications of communities
it has manipulated the societies that barely function
it has forced people to fight for the basic rights all should hold
how am i to forgive such sins committed against my kind?
to accept the influences of a book that is thousands of years old
that still governs my everyday life?
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 4:01 AM UTC
This is not really a poem; just an insightful realization of mine
We have this mainstream perception of human life—that we grow to freely love the things we desire to love. We are biologically-inclined to conform to the intuitive notion of 'freewill'. But what is supposed to be imprinted in our minds turns out to be no more false than the number zero being larger than one; in actuality, we are nothing but biological clockwork confined to obey the laws of nature.
Every atom in our body, every neuron streaking in our nerves, and every step we take, our body does so, for the laws of nature require it to. Our actions are as predetermined as the orbits of the planets, and paradoxically, it is as probabilistic as the location of an electron in its quantum orbit. We don't act out of our own will; we act out of necessity, for the laws of nature require us to behave the way we should be behaving.
They call it Scientific Determinism.
Disturbing, isn't it? And what does that make out of freewill and love? Simply put: freewill is an illusion, and love is the sweetest lie ever conjured up in this Universe. Even so, we still choose to believe in both. Why? Because we're humans; we long to live our life with a purpose, even if it takes for us to make up our own.
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 11:45 AM UTC
Peasants underestimate,
the sacrifice of a King,
all they see,
are the fancy things.
*griping,
and
groaning,*
when in actuality,
they are more free,
then he ever,
will be.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC
Alice was a hippy girl
whimsical and free spirited
in dalliance with imagination.
Living in a trippy world
and a psychedelic dream.
Where life was fluffy and free
from the restraints of responsibility.
Her thoughts drifting
always questioning.
Far out man.
Always in her daydream bubble
partying for peace and love,
keeping her soul out of trouble.
In nonsense rhyme
and hallucinogenic vibe,
creating her own escape.
And all the while her rabbit
with an anxiety problem,
would tell her he was
going to be late.
She nibbled on cakes
that she laced,
with her boyfriend
and together they embraced
their Wonderland.
Grinning like Cheshire cats
hand in hand spiralling,
out of control
down rabbit holes.
Far out man.
Always in her daydream bubble
partying for peace and love,
keeping her soul out of trouble
in nonsense rhyme
and hallucinogenic vibe
creating her own escape
And all the while her rabbit
with an anxiety problem
would tell her he was
going to be late.
Spending their days in wonder
in unknown potions drunk
they would ponder
the meaning of life,
in playing cards talking
with ***** smoking
caterpillars and
mocking turtles on a beach.
Reality so far out of reach.
Far out man.
Always in her daydream bubble
partying for peace and love,
keeping her soul out of trouble
in nonsense rhyme
and hallucinogenic vibe
creating her own escape
And all the while her rabbit
with an anxiety problem
would tell her he was
going to be late.
Alice was a hippy girl
whimsical and free spirited.
Wishing for a different world,
escaping in kaleidoscopes.
Mind blowing and free.
The truth smashed down
her house of cards in responsibility,
and she had a date with reality
in actuality reality eventually
Growing up man.
Always in her daydream bubble
partying for peace and love,
keeping her soul out of trouble
in nonsense rhyme
and hallucinogenic vibe
creating her own escape
And all the while her rabbit
with an anxiety problem
would tell her he was
going to be late.
He was going to be late.
He was going to be late.
©Jacqui Slade
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 4:41 AM UTC
FATHER'S DAY
Dearest father, of all beloved,
Father's day, too reminds me of you..
Does it matter to you?
Dearest father, of all loveliest,
I really do wish to wish you,
But how do I do?
Dearest father, of all sweetest,
I wish if you could hear me,
But dad is busy bee...
Dearest father, of all cutest,
I wish if I could sing along -
For you, father's day song...
Dearest of all father dearest,
Did you bother to see my greetings?
Or still lost in meetings?
Still..
My father is the bestest,
The bestest of all friends and family,
The best of all actuality..
My father is the sweetest,
He does try getting free, you see,
Well, never that for me..
My father is highly intellectual,
He knows, a father he would remain..
So no time he drains..
But dad, you know what,
You don't treat your child any well,
you make my life hell..
Miss you so much papa,
You would have no time to hear..
At least tomorrow, be here...
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 10:55 PM UTC
When you reach for the cold wooden board
your hands begin to decay
your skin peels back then hardens and falls off your scarlet bones.
A bright midnight flash struggles to push through to the other side of your mind
revealing that you passed years ago but are stuck in an actuality that doesn’t belong to you.
Life is all just a disorder, dead but you keep on living
a distorted mind trapped in an unborn child's head.
Or it could be a game from the further future that they play
controlling little beings within a screen.
The words engraved on the board now lay in your flesh and you cannot let go
from the reality within reality
but is the concept that hard to grasp?
You believe in God but not your own insanity?
We are the dead ones that are only able to perceive
they are makers of our madness
the creators of an urban fantasy
and they try to speak to us from millions of years in the future through a sharp birch wood board
but the lies we are told and the truths that this “world” withholds
does not compare to the unknown universe outside of this screen.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 11:50 AM UTC