"attributed" poems
Loyalty
They talk about loyalty,
Like it’s a fantasy,
They talk about loyalty,
But have no clue, what it means.
They talk about equality,
Like it’s currently happening,
They talk about democracy,
But have no clue, what it means.
Glocks aimed at cops,
Glocks aimed back at someone’s pop,
Many lives have been lost over Gaup.
Gaup that buys whips and thots.
All got something to prove,
But to who?
All got something to lose,
What will you choose?
If money equal power,
Than why is the taste so sour?
After all the castles and ivory towers.
You’re left a lonely dragon like bowser.
Loyalty tell me what it means to me?
To hang with royalty,
Or help those in poverty.
The place I used to be.
Helping people like me.
That society has coated with a cloak of invisibility.
Because they can’t stand minorities.
And that’s why we can’t stand authorities.
A toxic cycle that stems from a different ideology.
Instead of equality,
We have uniformity,
Instead of democracy,
We have white supremacy.
Instead of loyalty,
We have hypocrisy.
They talk about loyalty,
Like it’s a fantasy,
They talk about loyalty,
But have no clue, what it means.
They talk about equality,
Like it’s currently happening,
They talk about democracy,
But have no clue, what it means.
Too many broken promises,
I feel like James Sie,
Losing all his cabbages.
But since we are deemed as savages,
All the damages attributed,
Are treated as shenanigans,
Instead of answering calls to action,
We have a government completely dumbfounded.
Instead of compassion,
We are harassed and hounded.
We still got all lot of work to do.
And I hope one day we’ll have a breakthrough!
For we all got something to prove?
But to who? Maybe for me or for you!
All got something to lose,
If we never take the time to put on another’s shoe.
So, what will you choose?
Will you help light the fuse?
Or treat this issue like your alarm clock,
And put in on snooze?
Who will you be loyal to?
Your heart? Or to your privilege?
Hmm…
They talk about loyalty,
Like it’s a fantasy,
They talk about loyalty,
But have no clue, what it means.
They talk about equality,
Like it’s currently happening,
They talk about democracy,
But have no clue, what it means.
Jun 16, 2021
Jun 16, 2021 at 8:26 PM UTC
In my 22 years of life, I've learned about two main invisible forces that have a profound affect on the way people carry out their everyday lives; Pain and Pleasure. A plethora of events throughout mankind's could be attributed to a quest for pleasure, a desperate escape from pain, or a number of other circumstances. In my personal journey, however, I've endured both while looking for something else entirely. My father used to tell me, "Those who seek out love the most, are the ones it will most likely avoid." I can safely say after 5 years of looking for love, I've experienced more pleasure and pain than I ever thought possible for a life time. But now that love has found me, I wouldn't trade those 5 years for anything in the world. Looking back, I realize you have to experience the trials and errors of true love long before it ever finds you. Of course things will happen, nothing is going to be perfect 24/7. But the experience from previous relationships you've had have more than likely taught you to ask yourself 3 questions before taking things too far:
1) Is this real?
2) Is this healthy?
3) Will this last?
At The end of the day, If all signs point to yes, than be prepared for a spiraling rollercoaster full of romance and despair combining to make for the perfect storm that finally feels like home.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
Go **** yourself.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
I don't follow.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
You can't generalize like that.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
All conflict in the world cannot be attributed to a single root.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
That requires the assumption that, basically, all human values are the same.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
That is very naive of you.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
That is because communication and language are the only means of expression and different words acquire very different meanings not only from culture to culture but even profession to profession.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
That's why the government is investing in that new fibre internet.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
Well of course, all human values are essentially the same.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
It's actually a lack of technological progression that restricts us from contacting aliens.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
Religious conflict is far more complicated than that.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
Go to Hell.
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
Yes
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
No
Did you know the root of all conflict in the world is miscommunication?
What do you mean?
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC
Agape.
To love unconditionally.
Attributed to the greats:
Gandhi,
Mandella,
Teresa,
God?
And me.
I offer an alternate:
Agape.
To crawl back repeatedly,
Ignoring a history and future of pain.
Agape noun
Unconditional love. A weakness, not a strength.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 7:23 PM UTC
Laying alone in my bed
************ in the dark
******** sending scathing ripples
Across my covered female anatomy
And yet in my mind I didn't see that
I pictured myself with women
Which I always attributed to
My hella queer identity
Except I was never myself in the fantasies
My friend told me that's why I couldn't ******
Because I needed to make the thoughts
Much more personal than that
Yet it didn't feel the same
As watching the strangers in ****
In my fantasies, I wasn't me
But I also was
I felt synonymous with the person I saw
I imagined feeling what they felt
But they had a *****
I did not
I thought it was just a kink
I don't think that anymore
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 2:06 PM UTC
I
have
come
to
the
conclusion
that
all
anyone
ever
wants
to
do
is
to
be
tired,
go
to
bed,
smile
as
they
fall
asleep
and
then
wake
up
feeling
like
they
want
to
get
up
in
simple
terms
I
am
experiencing
one
of
these
rare
and
fleeting
moments
there’s
a
lot
that
could
be
attributed
to
the
why
or
the
because
but
I
think
the
best
thing
to
do
is
to
focus
on
experiencing
this
moment
rather
than
trying
to
figure
out
how
to
do
it
again
goodnight
everyone
I
love
you
you
love
me
you
are
you
I
am
I
good
night
world
kiss
kiss
hug
hug
pat
pat
sigh
May 7, 2011
May 7, 2011 at 6:32 PM UTC
In Gothic architecture, light is considered
the most beautiful revelation of God;
Beauty is a characteristic of an animal,
an idea, object, person or place that provides
an experience of pleasure, or satisfaction;
Beauty is studied as part of aesthetics, [culture],
social psychology, philosophy & sociology;
An ideal beauty is an entity;
admired; possessing features
widely attributed to beauty in a particular culture;
to perfection:
Ugliness [commonness], [ ] commonly considered to be the opposite
of beauty,
annihilated as an intellectual concept,
no longer exists;
The experience of beauty is often
involved in an interpretation of some
entity [being in balance & harmony];
the experience of nature may lead to feelings
of attraction & emotional well-being;
Because perception is a purely subjective experience,
it was once said that beauty
is in the eye of the beholder;
a sentiment long debunked;
There is evidence that hypothetical perceptions
of beauty involve determining
aspects of things, people & landscapes;
beauty is typically found
in situations likely to enhance the survival
of the perceiving collection
[of chromosomes]
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 6:25 PM UTC
Although
alliteration
alleviates
all
affects
attributed to
anticipation,
it will still spill
faster from the quill
than assonance.
May 10, 2010
May 10, 2010 at 11:15 AM UTC
i.
the Hibiscus is the paradisiacal
armistice of quagmire and wind:
leave it there anchored to Earth.
ii
when it rains, it bows to no one;
when it genuflects to no bird,
it trills on the red of the moseying hour—
nobody sees the Hibiscus.
only the children of the vandal.
iii.
last summer we had makeshift
bubble machines and in the high-rise
of the twilight's cradle, we ran
viciously against the humdrum town
blowing bushels of laughter at
the dreary populace — the brooms
to a sweeping rustle, unsettled dust
mounting the ether.
we hurtled across the
infantile roads like they owed us something finitely attributed
to our locomotives.
iv.
the Semana Santa had gone by
and the season, no matter how promisingly redolent with emollient brush
of wind and laboring silence, held
no reprise — the Hibiscus,
it is not alone in the quiet verdigris.
v.
somewhere amid the hubbub of city,
there is a pendulum of line biting
the shore of waiting repeatedly.
only steel scaffolds erected and no
flagrant scent aroused. peregrinating
in the haloed hour, the nascent furl of
belch from vociferous iron-clad beasts
in all of EDSA
and when i look at people around me
they look like gumamelas, finally,
yet i am
not coming home.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 3:15 AM UTC
The way
You cradle my ***
Steals my comfort,
Like a thief true to the black mask painted on you
You are not wood, but a trees revenge.
Plaguing my body with discomfort
Repercussive of the agony from flannel coated lumberjacks, way back when
Four legs
Must be sneakier
Than two, for no two legged beast has yet robbed me.
But my chair,
Does so daily.
Yet I
Come back to you, I
Sit atop of you
Expecting in your apparent antiquity
To soak some of that wisdom so often attributed to my elders around campfires.
I guess you only give me that gift when you burn.
And so
I should have known
By the hollow shout I hear
Echo when I trampoline my knuckles on your skin
As Dorothy knocked upon Tinman, finding not his heart-
Neither do I find yours.
Or is
It admirable
Perhaps, that you support me even as I presently slander you
As Atlas supported the world,
Whose stars that stabbed him in the back
For that
I certainly will
Return to you tomorrow
And while you are not the most sittable chair
you are at least my loyal chair
A ha!
The wisdom promised
Is found, without striking a match
And dancing around
Your burning, crackling corpse.
In fact,
I promise you this
I shall save you first
In the event of a fire.
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 11:17 PM UTC
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Socrates on the Courthouse Lawn in Liberty, Texas
“Strong minds discuss ideas,
average minds discuss events,
weak minds discuss people.”
-attributed to Socrates, but no one knows
Imagine if you will old Socrates
On an old wooden bench on the courthouse lawn
Playing checkers with all the other old men
On an old picnic table throughout the day
He lifts his old straw hat in the leafy shade
With his old bandana he wipes his old bald head
And sagely asks the old questions of us
And through his dialectic dismantles old cant
And that must be why, as the ages pass
They’ve made for him a monument here in the grass
(While passing through Liberty, Texas I saw on the courthouse lawn a marble slab engraved only with “Socrates”.)
Liberty County Courthouse - TexasCourtHouses.com
Liberty, Texas, Bed & Breakfast Hotels (usatoday.com)
Socrates (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy)
Mar 14, 2021
Mar 14, 2021 at 9:25 AM UTC
I sit here
Desperately soaking up
Whatever information I can find
I can dig up
I know that I am not meant
To be doing this right here, right now
Yet I continue
I hope that I can take in all of this
That I can find whatever
Little bit
That will help to stop the slight shake
*Take away the coldness
Of my fingers*
In desperation, I look up similar incidents
That have occurred and I try
To figure out
If there is any end to this sheer insanity
A reason for which
This cursed world doesn't deserve
To end tomorrow
I search, I search, I surf
Trying to find some information
That tells me this world
Is not as cursed as it appears to be
*My fingers are still cold
They're still shaking a bit*
I am still shocked
I might just be panicking a bit
All I want right now
Is some solution
Some answer
To these rapes that have occurred
I want to be blind again
I don't want to know
That these dumbfoolishdisgusting
men (creatures) felt that that woman deserved it
I need to know that this isn't some god-complex
I need to know that deep inside no one wants to protect them
I want to see them castrated, locked up, executed
I need them to be done away
Because they need to be made an example of
Women cannot step out of their houses
Without being terrified
I am tired of controlling my fist
When someone suggests it was the clothes they wore
That that is what attracted them
I can't stop the shaking
That is attributed more towards anger
Than anything else
I need something done
Our pity won't bring her shattered sanity back
It won't make her ready to trust
Any man ever again
Our pity marches
With candles and tears in our (her) eyes
Will not make her feel anything but
disgust (hatred)
Towards herself
**A shattered mind,
An injured body,
A broken trust**
She has lost these things
And they
They just seem bent
On blaming it
On scraps of cloth
*(are you ******* kidding me?)*
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 4:34 AM UTC
I'm not trying to be needlessly edgy or ****
But can we lay off Kevin all up in yo Spacey?
I know it seems wrong
But I feel I can understand
Or at least relate
Because when I feel too much love in my heart
For somebody younger
Who is a guy
I start doing crazy ****
Like projecting my life onto his
Maybe he's scared
Maybe he's alone
Maybe I could save someone from that
I have to remind myself that was just me
And that there is no such thing as salvation
When your mistakes are supercharged
Because of the scandalous homosexual element
Yet there's no one to turn to
Because nobody understands
So your actions become louder to drown the silence
The stakes of the mischief grow
There's tens of thousands of dollars in property damage
That can be attributed to my sexuality
You have to find a way to push past that
The only way I found
Is to be open about who you are
Because until then the fear will consume you
You fear they will laugh, mock, judge and hate you
Until you wish they were silent again
And they will do all these things
And you will wish all those things
But you'll be able to face it with strength and honesty
Because your fear is more powerful than their callousness
But more importantly it's better than the alternative
When people discover your nature
Through a mistake you've made
And unleash the wrath of God
They will never give a ****
About how they contribute to these moments
They're only there to throw gas on the fire
They say it's a mistake to ****** a minor
They say it's a mistake to be a whiner
And there's no one who'll ever take your call
Expecting them to understand
Well, that's the biggest mistake of them all
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 2:51 AM UTC
I feel the breeze of purple skied nights
sirens fading out down the street
taxi horns blaring impatiently
tungsten, incandescent, fluorescent
lights bouncing off brick walls
bums curled up on stone ledges
with a waterfront, riverside, view
towers stand erect—giant *****
of steel and mortar penetrating
the sweet pink innocence of the
clouds reflecting the light below
tourists meandering with companions
obtaining a glimpse of the night
life pushed aside by hurried natives
young college students starting their
***** trips at vibrant, overpriced, clubs
bitter grizzled men starting their
***** trips at dull, weathered, local bars
both shaking off the buzz moving
onto complete drunkenness
the taste of food and sewage
mixed into the humid air
live music playing in Millennium Park
while children play and laugh in the
artistic structures unknowing of the
value and beauty attributed
looking for amusement
the city’s reflection vainly warped
by the curved polished metal surface
of the Bean, crowds mesmerized by
simple tricks of light reflecting the
twisted narcissism of those caught
up in the city’s hedonism
warm breezes roll into
the shore and marina
from the sea-like lake
well-to-do travelers
recording through the curved
lenses of expensive digital cameras
their trifling, yet
extravagant adventures
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC
There’s nothing I remember, so I shall invent a life.
It all starts with a dichotomy. Speech, lack of speech.
Logos, preceded by the lack thereof.
A heartbeat, maybe, echoing to form a vowel.
And then a sigh, with inexplicably twisted tongue.
“I”…
I…
I’ll tell you. Raising a finger from my desk.
I’ll tell you how it began. I was in the dark, and decided I had had enough of it.
I flipped on a lamp at my side and began to write.
There weren’t any words yet, but there were symbols for sounds, and that was close enough for now.
I pressed enter, and the message flew to a compatriot.
Or an enemy. This flush dichotomy of forms abounds!
I hold my breath and wait.
Waiting, for a response.
Waiting, to imagine words I’ll never hear.
And the light hums.
I…
What is it, inside that filament
which speaks?
What is every minute morsel of matter telling me about my beginning?
I’m not sure I want to read it, when my phone shakes.
But that’s what that behavior dictates.
A laugh, a cold analysis, a response.
This could go on indefinitely.
I don’t even know where you are in the world.
I’ll never see you.
I think of a more advanced dichotomy, I read about.
It was attributed to Freud.
A baby masters the objective universe through two utterances
in a ball game.
Fort… gone.
Da… there.
For now, these words are silent, but if I were in a crib
You would be the breast I long to devour,
The meaning I would choose to fill my mouth with
Muffled exclamations:
DADADADADADADA!
And I cry. But I don’t know what this all means to you.
Because I haven’t told you with electronic signs.
I’m not sure the word “to cry” carries any meaning.
It just stands in for fear.
Fear of being alone in the world, with the dark,
And no logos.
But I could go on for days reading walls of text on webpages developed by people
who have long since died.
I can summon the likeness of every celebrity onto a screen
rubbing my ***** while I look at them.
I can hear the music—
I CAN HEAR THE MUSIC—
Of all the world, vibrating. Rhythms contracting, like vulvas after birth.
And the silky, black discharge is this emotion in my brain after I think of you.
I created you with my words.
I illuminated my world with the thought of you.
And now I have nothing to say to the creature I created.
I am in horror before you.
Fort, fort, fort, away!
You have left me, without ever being present.
You were here, you were gone, I had no control.
And when I weep, the fear drowns the sun’s luminescence
The clouds hide the sky
The air sculpts my lungs
With emptiness
after words have come out.
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 3:42 AM UTC
knuckles ache
peel back the page:
Aurelius, Seneca, Epictetus
cluck the tongue
boys outside throw jabs
over a cracked
cricket bat
a father frets over
investments and client work,
simple things.
I read on
wondering how so many words
committed to tranquility
could be attributed to so many men
when women
trained stoics since the womb
would pen epics -
if only they were not plucking stones from rice.
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 10:17 AM UTC
I believe the highest hopes and aspirations of humankind to be divine,
and I believe the epitome of Divinity to be True Love — Love in Truth.
Yet, in that we so universally long for love that’s true and truth that’s loving,
while so rarely attaining or embodying them, attests to the fact that
they find their Source outside of ourselves. Similarly, our greatest potential —
the Ideal itself, the capacity to even conceive of it, the desire to strive for it,
and the motivation to do so, must also ALL have their Source outside of ourselves.
It follows that our longing for The Divine is due to Divinity longing for us first —
the True nature of Love being to share ‘Itself’ graciously and generously.
Thus, True Divinity can only be The God of Love, by both nature and definition.
To believe Divinity to be intrinsically Good is merely a matter of self-consistency:
And for God to have Goodwill toward Man is perfectly natural by logical extension.
To further acknowledge that a Truly Loving nature — consistent with Divinity —
does not permit so much as even intentions of an un-loving or an un-true nature,
affirms that God is inherently trustworthy. We can thereby be assured that an
attitude of trust and a disposition to believe in the Love of God is very reasonable:
To do so has proven to be our most promising hope of our highest aspirations.
Any seeming contradiction to the veracity of Divine Virtue —
in theory or in history— can only be reasonably attributed to
misinterpretation and/or misrepresentation of God’s nature and intention.
[“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son, so that whosoever believes in Him
should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn it,
but that the world may be saved through Him” Father-God wants all of His lost children to return!
And “Behold what level of love the Father has given us that we should be called the children of God.”
So, “For me there is only one God, the Father, from Whom all things came and for Whom I live;
and there is only one Lord, Jesus Christ, thru Whom all things came and thru Whom we live.”
Dec 18, 2010
Dec 18, 2010 at 3:22 PM UTC
I was lying on my bed, deeply absorbed in the thoughts of my future. I was all clueless, no idea, no direction. I was angrily frustrated at the question, 'What next'? Because, I had no answer. I thought to grab some nootropics just to have some sips of a vivacious life. After taking them, I had 'my what next'. I held that thought. I strove very hard to achieve what I longed for. I got so elated and attributed my success to nootropics. I couldn't ever figure out that it was only a 'hope' which it granted me.
-Future Me-me, Me-me Future (I.A)
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 5:54 AM UTC
I've always wondered
How a destination be romantic
How a moonlit dinner be romantic
How can something that springs
From the depth of a soul
Be attributed
To such outward glory
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
WHO CLAIMS THAT MEN DON’T CRY? MEN HAVE EMOTIONS, FEELINGS AND SENSIBILITY. FOR TOO LONG HAS SOCIETY DICTATED THEIR FEMININ ABILITY?
WHY RESTRAIN THE HEART FELT EMOTIONS FOR BEING JUST A MALE? WHY IS TEAR SHEDDING ATTRIBUTED ONLY TO A FEMALE?
BOTH SEXES CAN DEMONSTRATE JOY AS WELL AS SADNESS, WHY DEPRIVE MEN OF CRYING AND IT’S CLEANSING PROCESS?
SO IS HOLDING BACK TEARS A SIGN OF PHYSICAL STRENGTH AND SELF MASTERY? NOT IN THE LEAST, I WOULD SAY IT IS THE OPPOSITE; A SUPPRESSED BUT ESSENTIAL ROSARY.
CENTURIES OF CONDITIONNING HAVE MISLED ALL OF US ALLOWING THIS TYPE OF BRAIN WASHING TO CREEP IN. IT IS TIME FOR A RENEWAL OF SPIRIT, RECLAIMING OUR TRUE ESSENCE TO SETTLE IN.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 6:41 AM UTC
Rhythms of Mother Earth
Those which to life give birth
The pulse of all her life
When disrupted cause strife
Why is it we feel better when we go outside?
What has Mother Earth that is not inside?
Everything is connected
And, in turn affected
By that which causes disruption
Mainly, human corruption
Drop a pebble in a lake
All things affected by that wake
Of those energy waves emitted
Like those from a tower transmitted
Where have the butterflies and bees gone?
Those that took fancy flight above our lawn
Why have their numbers decreased?
And why have more become deceased?
What is this pulse, what is this beat?
That which surrounds us and is beneath our feet?
Mother Earth's heartbeat, herRESONANCE...7.83Hz (hertz)
The same rhythm with which humanity flirts
Circadian rhythm, day and night
Daily cycle of dark and light
A world, from the eye unseen
Yet perceived by those who are keen
Aware of our world which is synergetic
With waves that are light, electric and magnetic
What happens in a world without bees?
Does the fruit still fall from the trees?
Do we want to live without the beauty of flowers?
All for the incessant need for transmitting towers?
What is the ultimate price that we may pay
If we do not hold our cell phones an inch away
As waves lethal as high concentrations of uranium
Are pumped continuously into our cranium
Wireless hot spots become pervasive
Much like a species that is invasive
Birds migratory instincts disrupted
By those towers that have corrupted
That natural balance we have with our mother
A balance that cannot be replaced with another
This resonance attributed to Schumann
Is a frequency that is also human
(C) 2013 Shawn White Eagle
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 7:56 PM UTC
Once pink now tawny wallpaper peels inside a closet, ballerina
dreams shucking off like husk. Little cartooned princesses cling.
Last holders-on from a 1950's design scheme with all good
intention, twirling memories glueyness is backed seemingly
to astound or perhaps dishearten. In "the boy's room," you
find in the closet an equally petrified, yet opposite motif papered.
It's animated baseball. I remember how quotes such as, "Never
let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game,"
did don those walls back in the day. I think it was Babe Ruth
attributed to that one. He and I were supposed to have shared
the same birthday, but I must confess, it stopped right there.
Eventually, that was all figured out, and I have no lamented
grievances for what parent's wishes were for their children's
would-be assigned roles. It was and is still popular to choose
decided decors as such. Who is to know how Bobby may envy
tiny dancers chosen for his sister's room or how Sue might prefer
basketball or even hockey? Even more politically correct
consciousness is a confusing choice. Who gets the dinosaurs
and who gets the daisies? In any case, no one papers the
closets anymore. So, when the time comes for cleaning out
old spaces and memories, future grudges might be less frequent.
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC