"basing" poems
#
*This coup
A new nation
Loyal dedication
Its classification*
‘Species procreation’
Prevents us from facing
A human cessation
selective mutation
Gestation
Creation
It may help explaining
The reasons
Behaving
*But not the foundation
Or actions
We’re basing*
A simplification
is “continuation”
A checkbox
left vacant
*Fulfillment
We’re chasing*
We sweat
Eyes are gazing
A slight
palpitation
In need of hydration
Complete excitation
Without
hesitation
Intense stimulation
**Deep urges
Heart racing**
*Driven
By sensations*
**Unbounded fixation
Pelvic
Undulations
Clothing
Perforations
Time no longer wasting**
***This capitulation
a Sanctification
****** gyrations
Hint of ***********
The bedroom
Safe haven
For what
we are craving
*Once out
and displaying*
It all had been taken
Before
Feeling vacant
Freed imagination
A resuscitation
Indulged depravation
A rhythm
we’re setting
The giving and getting
**Destroying
the bedding**
All else I’m forgetting
Entwined
with each other
Like entangled netting
*Both
on the same trip
In a unified heading*
Now comes
the summation
A true
Revelation
Final
culmination
Smash all expectations
***Volcanic
eruption***
That lasts the duration
**Loud gasp
We unlock**
Filled with gratification
#
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 3:19 AM UTC
Substituting communication
for mere contact.
Self image produced with every shared post.
Basing your worth
on how many tap their finger.
When people become numbers
and reading someone's tweets
is enough to count as friendship
Convincing ourselves that life should have an edit option
Have we forgotten the tangible world?
real and uncut
above the square illusions residing in our hands
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
Misunderstanding
Must be the reason for this
I don't know anything
And I am basing my thoughts
Off of misguided feelings.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC
Women gets together and ask,
where have all the good men gone?
And they states they either marry or taken.
When in truth many exist still in the world.
But they must question many things about themselves.
A man that quiet.
Wouldn't want a woman that argues constantly.
Probably one that hardly does.
Or one that can't trust him.
But wants him to trust her.
Good men live according to those they date.
The kind that gives him space.
And feel secure to let him be him.
Once you assured he's not out to hurt you.
A good man isn't afraid to be with his.
As long as she makes time for him.
But not according to their friends.
Sometimes being alone with one another.
Creates adventures to built upon.
And sometimes the best of friends get in the way.
A good man places the feeling of his woman first.
Always will.
Always have.
That's the quality of a good man.
Words said to harm her.
Is put to a halt by the love of him
It's not that all good men are taken.
It just some women is basing their search on the man of their friends.
Cause before they found him.
He was just an ordinary man.
Changed by the love of a good woman.
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 10:46 PM UTC
you're drinking, and then you can't control
the reaction upon entering the tetragrammaton...
one h is for hushed up laughter, for sighs (ah),
and then the alter deja vu
is a cocktail of:
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,
yeah, so many, so you can look at it rather than
say it... it's a sunny day, go out and play
or something... leave me with the anchor of ****
humanity dragging us down, or simply basing us
in the underwater fudge of mud to a standstill...
it's sunny, go out and play, ride a bicycle or something...
you know, living 20 odd years in an english society
i never had an english girlfriend, i'm told she's a real
firecracker fortune-cookie... my hands are cold,
i swear by the oath of the old Bailey i never touched
her thighs... scouts' honour, cross my fingers
and wear woman's underwear with a bowler hat
to match my serious demeanour...
yep, an Abbey Road's standstill... a fifth beetle
chatting cheeky chat chat of a chirp...
gurgles of fizz in carbonated wine known as champagne,
well that's me... or as the roadrunner said to
speedy Gonzales... hark a sayonara when changing
the gears to a 100m sprint world record.
the Mayan disease? ah right... excess spontaneous
laughter, unstoppable like a tide;
got chatting to a ms. khan... Genghis' great great...
great great great great great... great great granddaughter...
a doctor from pakistan... nice english accent
gets you all the pleasantries so everything can
go to hell... the sleeping pills prescription is waiting...
now the sick-note... so i don't crash a plane
into the Swiss elevations by "accident"
while sitting on an arm-chair of nails while everyone
else is farting into cushions.
honest to god, the tetragrammaton is like a brick
wall for vowels, you hit the ball against the four
walls, and the vowels are either ****** up
or they extract the consonant stability of the four letters,
and your safest bet to express them is
to laugh;
well, i do call it a Mayan disease... because
my stomach is aching from building a six-pack with
the giggles.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 7:40 AM UTC
THE JOURNEY OF MY LOVE LIFE
Someone comes into my life,
We became best of friends, she starts being so
special to me,
That she becomes so close to me,
she starts to mean everything to me,
I start to miss her, and i then
realize that my life can't go on without
her, i start missing food and
sleep, My life totally changes. That
She promises me heaven on earth and
she keeps on telling me that she
is different from the ones I have ever
had. My heart gets softened till I
surrender it to this special girl I call
heaven sent
Everything goes on well, I share good
moments... but suddenly,she starts to
change after getting what she wanted,
she reduces on the texts and calls,
start to give many excuses, my so called sweet
heart starts becoming too busy for
Me...I start to cry, plead and ask
forgiveness but all in vain till I was
dumped and she move on.
I got heart-broken;I swear never to
fall in love again. I start hating love,I
start saying that all women are
the same basing on what my heartless ex
did to me , I never trust anyone again.
I live a single a life, but after sometime,
I start admiring my happy friends who are in
love, loneliness squeezes, I then
decide to try loving a gain. Another pretty lady comes into my
life, I start to think that she is
heaven sent but still I went through the
same process.
Friends that’s the journey of love, No one
who can escape it and no one who will
never get heart broken.
So if you have someone who is treating
you like a king or a queen, truly and
faithfully love that person because true
love is hard to find. Do whatever it takes
for both of you to last longer. Don’t easily
dump that person because of minor
disagreements. Call or text that person,
meet him or her and apologise.
Value that person’s effort and everything
he or she sacrifices for you. Don’t take that
person’s love for granted because
someone out there yearns for that
person’s love and care.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 12:40 AM UTC
Anxiously awaiting atomic assimilation
Basing me on belligerent and boorish bastardization
Capsizing cargo with careful consideration as to
Deciding which day is decay's destination
Everyone embrace the elevated expiration
Forget my face and follow fabrication
Go to the gallows with grace and gravitation
He will hold you and hinder alienation
I, however, hold insignificance in interest
Justifiable jackhammers jacking fighter jets
Killing Californians who are kissing canvases
Lying without laughing and lighting cigarettes
My master makes me move my mundane mind
Never knowing next to nothing with nothing else inside
Overly offering operating override
Practicing patiently pulling peoples' pride
Quickly questioning quizzical quietness
Rationalizing raging reinventions ridiculous
Stapling this summer to my (still) sick subconscious
Traveling tunnelers trading tides for tiredness
Under the umbrella my undertow untangles
Violently vibrating like varying violin angles
Waiting with wandering whispers under the table
Xylophonist x-rays, excruciating fables
You yellow youngling, you who screams in my dreams
Zebras zoom by every single night, it seems
Let's chant my enchantments, the alliteration song!
And untie your tongue
So you don't take it wrong.
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 6:59 PM UTC
Do I see you for who you truly are?
Or am I basing judgement off
Of your appearance,
While I don't even know you.
I would be lost for words
If you were to ask me who I am.
I could tell you my name,
I could give you a brief
Or detailed description,
I could tell you what I do,
But that wouldn't do
Your question justice, would it?
I have a question for you,
Are you really living or only surviving?
Please don't be offended.
Ask me the same question,
I won't be offended.
Am I really living or only surviving?
Maybe each and every one
Of us is denying
The blunt truth we can't control.
Embrace the pain
As it bleeds through your soul
Introduce yourself
Before you go
Or before I leave,
Only because it was important to me.
What's the difference between goodbye and hello,
When greeting a man or woman you don't know?
Originally written 1/14/11
Revised 10/19/14
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC
A world of people
Who thinks she's weird.
When she meets someone she likes
She opens one of the gates up.
They still have a while to go to
See who she really is.
She's hapless at romance,
Not getting a chance with anyone
Because she merely watches
Romance from the side lines,
Only able to analyze it,
Never truly experiencing it,
Not knowing the full reality of it,
Basing her decision to be closed off
From only observation.
Maybe someday a guy will
Sweep her off her feet,
But who will he be?
Because of miscommunication she cannot
Get her feelings across.
Apparently she keeps her
Feelings hidden far too long
Because she wants others to
Be happy.
She is shunned for her
Want to make everyone else
Happy before herself,
Making her the lone wolf,
Who merely observes,
Watching from the woods,
Howling at the moon,
Sad to be alone,
But not sure if it'd make a
Difference or not in happiness
If she were to be placed together with another wolf.
She likes her freedom, but
Is pulled like a rope between
Freedom and commitment, trying
To find a balance.
She's not sure, but not patient
With the matter, she likes to
Push it deeper into herself, to ignore
The loneliness, and look into the future,
Hoping it'll be better than the miserable
Balcony that she stands on, watching
Couples kiss and hold hands,
Frowning and then smiling,
Having conflicting emotions.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 5:03 PM UTC
*I've been thinking about you baby,
So I'm drinking about you lately
Now I'm dreaming about you baby
& My head's screaming sedate me
I've been tearing out my hair about you baby,
I just simply can not bear it
Prayers come & go without merit,
Maybe only you can save me
I've been chain-smoking about you baby,
Trying to rid myself of your lingering taste
But it's savory & I hate it
Bad habits are hard to break
Now I'm binging about you baby,
& I'm choking about you baby
Feels like hanging from a bridge
[Rope + Throat =
Dangling, here - you baby]
The Frog Prince croaks, alone for you my highness,
Beauty is only skin deep when vanity is all but timeless
It's chipping away my sanity; (your china is the finest)
Your parisitical silhouette (the iris of my crisis)
I've been sniffing glue about you baby,
Now you're stuck on me like paste
With eyes closed, it's almost as if
you & I were face to face
Your touch, my long lost grace
How I long for your forgotten, electric embrace
I've been free-basing about you baby,
& basing my phrases around you lately
Just can't phase you out of my head
I see you in my dreamscape
You're my favorite escape baby
Now I'm hallucinating about you baby,
It feels like I'm losing you baby
Your pallor is opaque, are you okay baby?
I see a ghost; the resemblance is uncanny
It's become unnerving, why can't you just be happy?
Your antics make me frantic
I'm sour & spiraling downward baby
I've been robo-tripping about you baby,
& double-dipping about you lately
My frame of mind is shaky
So scrape away all my brain matter baby
I've been injecting about you baby
Now I have this festering infection,
affliction for your affection, and
My veins collapse about you baby;
Encasing my brain in frost,
You're cold as a glacier;
Read between the lines baby
You call the shots
Maybe I should huff some gas about you baby,
Or smoke some crack about you baby
I dunno what to do about you baby;
I could melt you on a spoon,
My life is drab without you lately
I just want to see color*
**Inhale *a dab about me baby,
So you can recreate your perception
of times past about me baby;
Mix & match the parts you like best
&* Exhale all the rest baby**
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC
**** you and your little intelligentsia
group therapy sessions
basing its roots in caveman cartesian
theoretic - i know you know that
the blank canvas are the ********
and that artists work on that -
because normally grey citizens are no
blank canvas but a subordination -
but still, **** you, why not concentrate
on the blank economics of a beggar
to exercise your little intelligentsia
get-together sessions?
there are less social securities in that
department of inquiry -
mental health and art... what's that?
you jealous of the caverns of the mind
crafting an escape pod to your
****** exercise of mechanisation -
**** on me, crosswords! su doku!
all matters of encryption!
endear your lack of creativity with
the synonymousness act of creativity
decoding encryption,
because you obviously can't encrypt
on a complete lack of encoding parameters (blanks).
you can't encrypt originality unless
you start with encrypting nothingness
with stars... and how often does that happen?
perhaps once... i care to make you
feel something akin to bombastic,
a football stadium size of appreciation lost -
skull kickabout with commentary:
to create the post-relativity warp
of quantity-quality, akin to space-time,
for indeed the answer to science's
space-time hyphenated couplet
is quantity-quality - and that's hardly a measurable
consideration, since there are too many particulars
involved, i.e. too many individuals, choices
and disparaging wills - too many particulars
in the hyphenated couplet quantity-quality,
since science is offering universal breadcrumbs
with its space-time rationalisation
for each and every for a share in populating
an insignificance, whether on a personal
scale or an impersonal / collective scale -
and both are indeed expressed,
the famous parasitical comparison found
in too many numbered essays by individuals -
but still humanism has a quantity-quality parabola,
while science has its space-time parabola,
and indeed both in dip, provide waves,
for example the former with Plato and Neoplatonism,
and for example the latter with
the revisionists of Einstein - the revisionist excavators
arguing precision to 100% proof of measurement
in exponential scaling of the mind theorising
a bus trip to Saturn like a bus-trip parallel-akin
to a 1 mile trip on the same vehicle in the earthly atmosphere.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
On xanax, I want to
save the world. See it,
save it, savour the lady
who tells me it's 'jargon,'
the newspaper. It's 'jargon,'
all those books you don't
understand and thus return
to the library. 'Jargon, jargon.
All-right, fair enough, have a
good night.' A blustering, fat
-bodied strangeman, walks in,
talks of homeless hairies who
cut in front of him at McDonald's,
rudely assert their desperation
with greasy foreign hair basing
down the nape of their neck,
beseech the poor fat ******* to
his last-straw tossed toward a
health minister who won't 'speak
for himself' but has his secretary
'speak for him.' what the hell is
that? he asserts, face in a squeeze-
pause and a left-side lazy eye bowing offward, 'ridiculous, disgusting.'
'well, I hope you have a good
night, take care,
sir.'
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
With sandals and a robe the power of the message was passed.
They didn't decide the higher authority was better than those with less.
They was during what was requested?
The minister's preached.
While some seated reacted to the message.
He glanced.
He complimented those in the pew.
But with a firm tone, he stated this message was address to who?
Who?
Turn up their nose to the homeless man or woman seated next to them.
Without understanding these lost souls have came for the word.
Who?
Sit and whisper about clothes that some comes to church in to attend.
He pointed out Christ saw the lost souls as friends.
And not basing it upon church attendees apparel.
But we know many people that the minister speaks about.
Especially when some leaders cries give the lord your best.
Then long before fancy clothes enhances anyone image.
God knows your heart.
After all He alone is God.
He states, and with truth.
The treatment of others says a lot about you.
Church dress codes is nothing but what you see it to be?
Those with a sincere heart to live accordingly.
Doesn't need expensive suits and dresses.
Doesn't need to drive high price cars.
Cause back in the day.
A mule got many to many places.
Anything God placed upon here with love for another.
Must always remember not to judge their sisters or brothers.
If you judging them according to clothes.
Cause false prophets dress well and fool many constantly.
He took off his suit.
He took off his tie.
And removed his shoes.
And asked, what makes him better than the ones seated next to you?
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 4:54 PM UTC
America
**** your McDonald's drive-thrus
**** your ninety-nine cent ******** hamburger, taco, pizza, salad, milkshake, hotdog, cheese, chicken and ice cream.
**** your ever-penetrating, all-enveloping television stare
-looking into every home and obscenely tucking children into bed with your poisonous, dangerous nonsense
**** your deadly highways and metal death machines
**** your educational system which affords no opportunity and disgraces the intelligent by basing self-worth on imaginary symbols
**** your restriction of information and for appointing one man to represent anybody but himself
**** you for breeding such similar beings
**** your twisted hatred of change & for arresting children while cadavers dry-hump the so-called american dream
**** you for losing your own soul & destroying us daily
**** you for putting faces on beauty and giving such loud voices to hypnotic fantasy
**** your favorite sons and daughters
**** you for the wars which can never be won
**** you for advertising Jack Daniels on the freeway
**** you for a pack of cigarettes - seven dollars and fifty cents
**** you for making my **** hard
**** you for not looking at the stars every night
**** you because I am poisoned by paper
**** you for the starvation of spirit & pills handed out to numb the broken minds you've made & the shattered ones you avoid
**** you for the homeless prophets
**** your speech decree & for rubbing freedom in the faces of the dying
**** your holy stars & stripes
**** your hushed genocide and & torture
**** your phantom masses and empty religions
**** you for providing no wholesome evenings in my rotten town
**** your signposts and support beams
You are but a word
Jan 26, 2011
Jan 26, 2011 at 11:36 AM UTC
You could say he hates her,
From the way she talks to him, how every rose is ****** at him thorns first - millions of little slashes - battle wounds of the everyman adding up day to day week to week year to year the river of blood leaks to the ocean big enough to drown them both.
He fires back though, and across the battlements of the dinner table sits the enemy shaking a half empty bottle of depression pills, basing how much happiness was left for the month off of the rattling of white capsules against the orange bottle.. She, how could she have ever given birth to him? Some might argue that was all she ever did for him, too preoccupied with her reflection to see the mirror image her son had become with his suken eyes, a rotton apple, a cyanide cynic at the ripe fresh age of fifteen.
So six months later when they both led the cavalry in charge for the umpteenth time throwing dagger words laced with poison aimed high at heads ducked below cover to a safe place (but of course there is no safe place),
Who would've thought when he told her to start taking her pills she'd take them all. Tip top of the bottle bottoms up for the bottle plain white capsules and blood red wine because when she goes out she goes out like a lady.
Its a sad sight seeing all her family weep at her grave, cry true tears clear and pure. All her family but one, her beloved boy. How dry face and stone visage were oh so heart wrenching.
But perhaps worst of all, is that you could say he hates her even now
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 9:41 PM UTC
When Donald Trump opened the floodgates last year,
by basing his campaign on paranoid fear;
By embracing the zealots, the hawks, the alt-right,
he emboldened the racists to take up his fight.
When Donald Trump barks and belittles and bellows,
he ends up with strange and revolting bedfellows,
who think, 'cause they're white they can fight and can ****
which, with horror, we witnessed there in Charlottesville.
When Donald Trump won't quickly, strongly condemn
the racists and nazis, he's standing with them.
When he's vague, non-committal, or responds with delay,
he's disgusting, pathetic, and as worthless as they.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 7:06 PM UTC
discomfort in fulfilling our hopes
hesitance in facing our fears
where do we draw the line
between living and being alive
if our actions speak louder than our words
how do we measure sound
in the face of death
why do we let her down
in knowing that we never settled
bets with our hearts
gambling our existence away
basing our worth in cards
dealt by someone else
concrete in our stubborn ways
when do we realize
changing habits has no price
yet the highest cost
but we still refuse to pay
for debts we acquire
and complain about the weather
until our bodies collapse
Jul 29, 2020
Jul 29, 2020 at 1:24 PM UTC
everybody's creeping
and cheating
everybody's lying
and crying and
dying inside
all we really want
is to feel alive again
this city's seething
with faithless believing
that things are gonna change
while we still stay the same
this is all pointless
be with who you miss
lay the past to rest
or bury the path to happiness
these feelings are residual
repeating and leading us
straight to hell
what you hate you used to love
screaming and bleeding
until theres nothing left of us
everybody's faking
and breaking and
pretending their hating
everybody's chasing
and free basing
when we don't really
want to fall in love
we want to rise above and
reach for what we really want
this is all pointless
be with who you miss
lay the past to rest
or bury the path to happiness
these feelings are residual
repeating and leading us
straight to hell
what you hate you used to love
screaming and bleeding
until theres nothing left of us
everybody's running
away from something
and putting on a front
everybody's hiding
and trying to find
someone they can confide in
when the truth lies in the dark
close your eyes and follow your heart
it's not about what you want
it's about what you can't live without
this is all pointless
be with who you miss
lay the past to rest
or bury the path to happiness
these feelings are residual
repeating and leading us
straight to hell
what you hate you used to love
screaming and bleeding
until theres nothing left of us
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 8:58 PM UTC
Shreaded heart due to color of the skin,
Lonesome nights due to attire I'm found in,
Invisible due to the identity I'm lacking,
How can it be that all of this is still happening?
Inocence in a cell because the color tries to define them,
Eyes of hate cover the dark hair upon them,
Forget the studies if papers weren't probided,
How can we live passing all the judgement?
Military veteran, but color over sees it,
Depressive memories drowning a person's surroundings,
Brought accross at the age of no concience,
Let us widen out eyes to see instead of look,
To listen rather that simply hear,
To speak not talk,
To extinguish this judgement basing on the cover of an incredible story that may walk right past your ignorance.
-Kathia Mariana Landeros
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 11:47 AM UTC
Hello ghost
Singing in my ear
Caressing my face
Slow.
Slower
Free falling my heart
Free basing my hope
The tethered rope
Of love
The sand storm stealing
The image from my tongue
Though the impressions forever there
Sweet death
****** despair
Mar 23, 2011
Mar 23, 2011 at 7:56 PM UTC
Oh my my, this Facebook thing,
has a world of trouble it can easily bring.
Long, meaningless chatting, a cyber-fling,
And it only began from a new chat box ding.
The one thing you must at all costs avoid doing,
Is basing opinions on these girls, then actually pursuing.
As you tell her you’re interested, her brain will cook.
“He’s into my heart! Not that picture I took!”
The one that she uses as her seductive hook;
but as most cases play out, this is not how she'll look.
You can try and deny this, but proof lies in plain sight.
There are some exceptions, but mostly, I’m right.
A long legged appearance, instead has a midgets height,
and oh goodness, those rolls! Her "abs" looked so tight.
Well, at least she is chesty, there is no faking there!
But her best friends a water bra, life just isn’t fair.
You meet up and they’ve shrunk? Can’t help but stare.
And her clear complexion has changed? She has acne to spare.
So provocatively she chats, you can't resist, so compelling.
But just remain unresponsive, asleep, and safe in your dwelling.
Is she hot or bad-looking? Well there’s no way of telling.
But she won’t look nearly as good, trying to save you from yelling.
So I hope you get my message, best to stay away from that game,
But I am assuming you won’t, teenage flirtation is impossible to tame.
I can only offer this advice, hoping it will keep you ridden of shame.
For as of now, if she tricks you, you have only yourself to blame.
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 5:54 AM UTC
Sweet as the pantries,
She basked herself in a fanciful coating of clothes and accessories,
Longing to find what she termed her "Identity" in her self-proclaimed journey of seeking Truth.
Basing herself upon these coatings,
The sweetness, the addictive tone of hanging on to the securities of being visually appealing had been the sole thought harnessed in her underutilized mind.
"What should I wear?" "Am I looking too ugly in this?".... undisclosed, subtle yet toxic cycle of thoughts kept protruding from the braincentre.
Things unkempt, bottles scattered over the floor, food wrappers uncleaned....she continued glorifying herself with her trance-like state of consciousness: Calling it "Nirvana" as she glanced over her new list of Boy-friends on Facebook.
While ignoring being a pejoratory display to others, she went on profusely with her self-consuming obssession on "Beautification"....with few occassions of gaining a few disapproving glints of nostalgia from her used-to-be down-to-earth mates.
****** Her work was disorganized, she was casted out from the team she used to collaborate with on a Science project, and became merely an alluring visual representation for pack of hungry alpha wolves.
Disintegration, down to the floor her teardrops were drained from her tearducts as she pushed every bottle of her exclusive make-up products away. "Useless, worthless...."the self-degenerating dictionary of vocabulary swarmed her psyche, attacking every single optimistic living cell in her.
Few days had passed when she found herself sleeping on the cold, hard, unrelenting floor. With a slow recovering stance, she gets up with the final thought of taking a chocolate bar for sugar.
Now she is a healthy, spiritual woman committed in empowering others to find their true identity
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 4:34 AM UTC
I don't really know why I try anymore.
The long phone calls,
the smiles and laughter,
you telling me how much you love
talking to me.
It burrows deep in my stomach-
the warmth, I mean,
and it begs to be expressed
with a hug
or a kiss
perhaps.
But you're older than I am,
and your laughter makes me feel
important, almost.
You tell me to live each day as if
it were my last
yet you can't see
that it took all my courage to ask you
to that stupid movie thing
at school.
And your voice
makes me smile.
But you want to know something?
I'm tired.
I'm tired of basing my emotions
on how other people think of me
even though somehow
I can't stop it.
So instead,
I'll take your smile,
your laughter,
the other girls whispering to me
"I know he likes you"
and your careful denial,
wrap it all up in shiny paper,
and place it under the Christmas tree
of trying to be
someone you'll want to remember.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
Tell me who I am?
You aren't a who.
Who was I?
It's all right now. All dreamed. All matter.
You see matter come and go? How
can you take it for reality? What
are you basing any thing on? You can
be in space and
still be breathing. Underwater
and somehow walking.
Water makes up mostly
what you are as matter of facts
stacked up. Are you happy?
For this time is right here and now
just for you. If you aren't here,
nothing is. How to know? Look,
you can see. Are you anything?
Nothing.
At some point it become ridiculous
to see the masks -
to see them fitted so
snug and perfectly matched.
Almost forgetting to
slip them off before deciding to speak.
If only.
But then the dream wouldn't be any fun. No?
Can't you see what's happened?
We've only moved further
and further away from
what we are
already here. Waking up seems
so very hard to do. Only if
you think others care. They are
living out your dream
they are feeding you
your karma. You are
chasing after God and they are
reminding you of the ghosts of your pasts.
Drop back in here. See just This.
All the ******** is still
just the same matter.
Just like feeling tired
of the same lunch options.
All the same dark matter
Means nothing without the light that I am.
Sep 10, 2021
Sep 10, 2021 at 3:41 PM UTC
Always look in multiple perspectives to view the full picture.
If you are quick to judge
you're basing your judgement off a cropped version of the picture.
When you walk around the picture
you begin to realize it is three dimensional.
You will become
enlightened
when you finally introduce yourself to the new details and to what the picture truly is.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 8:36 PM UTC