"beautious" poems
we caught eyes
in this convenience store
but
not because i fancied you.
i was piercing you
with my gaze
lips pursed, ready to spew
all of the hatred that swelled within me.
you were air and I was a balloon
but
you didn't expect something so hard
from someone so "soft"
because since i was a child
i was taught to speak only when spoken to
to do what men expect you to do
to find comfort in getting someone to fall in love with you
but i will not settle with
being defined by someone else,
not even you.
ive spent far too long holding my tongue
because that's what they expect women to do
they expect you to stay silent while they undress you
not just with their bodies
but with their words, falling like dominoes, spreading until the last one falls
but when will the last one fall?
when will I feel comfortable walking home by myself?
when will my clothes no longer be a form of consent?
when will the lines be paralleled?
when will birth no longer be punishment?
and when that day comes
when a boy tells my daughter what she should and shouldn't do,
his words like howling winds, destroying everything in their path,
she will have been made of stone.
and when he compares her to other girls, she will know wholeheartedly that she is a beautious being
and not because someone told her so.
so, here we are in this convenience store.
and i no longer hold my tongue.
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 11:53 PM UTC
all too often
we carry the
inexplicable burden
of perfection,
the weight balanced
upon our weakened shoulders,
we can hear our hollow bones
cracking like fallen leaves
under the pressure,
and still, we ignore it.
we see ourselves
through a looking glass
of social comparison
and self discrepancy.
she can't be better than me.
we want to believe that we are beautious beings.
we criticize what
intimidates us,
hatred falling from
our tongues
without a single,
rational thought.
it is then that we become wolves in sheep clothing
but let me tell you this:
you and i, will never be the same
my hair will never
fall the way yours does,
clothes will never
rest that delicately
upon my frame.
there is a divergence
in the way my
hips sway
and
that is okay.
i've a geyser
in my heart,
rosebuds in
my soul.
the faults,
crevices,
canyons in
my flesh
tell the story
of where i am
and have been.
i've inextinguishable embers
inside of me,
things that no other
being will
ever see.
and you,
you are
a monument,
too.
so, though
we all aspire to be
that image seared
into our minds,
from the cover
of that magazine
we read when we
were thirteen,
we will never be the same
and
that
is
incredible
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 2:19 AM UTC
Yesterday and today and again tomorrow
Regrets build up from day to day
To the last moment of my waning life
And all my yesterdays have guided me
Towards my longed for death, so **** you, brief candle.
Life's just a passing sideshow, poor interval
To fill in the time between TV shows and football -
So pass another beer - life's just a ragged tail
Wagged by an idiot, it's **** and *** and ***** -
And then there's **** all left.
Know you whichever tempestuous idiot declar'd
O wonder how many goodly creatures are there here
And how beautious whining mankind be?
O brave new ******* pointless world
That has such people in't or some such futility
Needeth yet her brains examining forsooth
And has ne'er seen Wolverhampton ill-lit by moonlight.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
I'm gonna unfollow everyone whom i currently do, and begin the list again, so as to renew the chaos that is the influx of beautious word-art I so enjoy and revere, but so seldom have time to sift through and give the attention and mind that is warranted to each and every one created by all'a y'all wonderous souls.
if I neglect to re-add anyone, please do not take it personally! anyone who is ostensibly active enough on my posts will, for obvious reasons, be most likely to be put back on my stalking list.
I realize this might come off as a bit selfish or narcissistic, perhaps vain or something,
and it very well might be,
but I'm strangely okay with that.
If you have a bone to pick with that,
I beseech thee to consider the following:
what part of you wants it to be that way,
what that reduction allows you to justify,
and how that makes you feel.
Just some fast food for thought.
;)
much love to you all,
and blessings upon thy paths.
see you in the future!
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 8:20 AM UTC
Oon gallee um tonem eh
hallo caking elenta meh
oft alone on windy days
ellon ta ban um tonem eh
gallorn tello en triclon meh
eve in shadows with no sun
give an blem in toomel eh
argen jame oh blem tin meh
playing my mandolin on the moon.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 9:49 PM UTC
Neath the pale and crescent moon
I saunter with the call of loon,
This haunting note through reeds on lake
Reflected moonlit ripples make.
I pause to ponder beauty stark
Of monochrome in Willmont Park,
In sillouhette of black and white
Through lakeside, rippled reeds at night.
Again the call of haunting loon
In silver light's reflected moon,
The chill air causing breath to cloud
My footfall crunch in sand, too loud,
Distracting me from beautious sight
Of moonlit lake on darkest night.
And yet again that haunting call
To conjour Willmont's phantom shawl,
Descending mist now brings the damp
Necessitating my decamp....
So.... with regret, I disembark
From gracious, moonlit Willmont Park.
M.
April 19 2014
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 7:59 PM UTC
Staring straight through vivid light
Tangential lines of torrid blue,
Mesmerizing, vivid light
To magnify horizon's hue.
A blaze of pinprick turquoise
Starkly circumscribes the mind
To focus cerebellum's link,
To clearly optimise the find.
Suspended in the nether zone
Floating deep within the air,
Rendered incognito now
As aqua showers rinse the hair.
Beautious recognition here
Of vastness laid before,
In the depth of thought potential
Lying at perception's door.
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
2 October 2010
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 12:36 PM UTC
This poem is no Billy’s babble,
I know this girl who tends to dabble,
Dabble with unkind creatures.
She’s beautious, dark, and loyalty-tied,
Non-gregarious, starry-eyed;
Starry-eyed for the inexpedient.
Wit is written on skin so fair
Eyes like skies, too deep to pare.
But pare her idea of ideal men.
Challenge, with whom her morals meet,
Picks scoundrels, wreaking calm deceit.
Deceitful words are hooks to her.
Beknownst to all but she herself,
These rogues take riches, turned to pelf.
Pelf, for she is better than them.
Too low they sink below her merit,
Her virtue, they could stand to inherit,
Inheriting her in return.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 8:09 AM UTC
an evening wisper
look up the
sky,
beautious sky, blue
and white appeared
bright illuminate, the
star of glorious
beauty,
beautious sky ye
decorate.
methought ye appear same eternal,
oh beautious sky,
from where the earth
heralds it's season,
....
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 3:57 PM UTC
Light and deep shade dancing
As I stride the mountain pass
My fascination prancing
As appreciations bask.
There's a tui in the cherry
And a magic song he sings
As he annoints the morning air
With the joy a summer brings.
There's a vibrancy a-hovering
And a crispness to the feel
A clarity so scintillating
One might, actually, doubt it's real.
A sky, so blue to be azure,
Extends across, on high,
Cloudless with a baking sun
Impaling you and I.
These old volcanoes soar aloft
They, now quiescent, stand,
Clad thick in stands of Kamahi
And towering Rimu, grand.
Great Egmont with her snowy crown
Rears high above it all
To dominate the beautious-ness
Of slope and waterfall.
A tiny fantail flits about
And so entrances me
With aerial bombardments, flung,
In near impossibility.
The song of rivers plummeting
Down ferny glades and stone-
Causing me to laugh aloud
In serenade of home.
And sauntering through this wonderous-ness
Of magnificence in green,
This glory of New Zealand,
Is, indeed, the very best ...I've seen.
M.
Midsummer Taranaki, NZ
30 January 2021
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 6:00 PM UTC
Sharp cool air blows through the brown wave
Air is taken in deeply,
Cold is felt all around,
but she is not cold.
The lights pierce the blue pools that fall one by one
Single sound of a breath,
The birds and bugs have silenced,
but her mind is not quiet.
Beautious ***** of fire stretch above the shingles
Miles above stretched forever
Wishing all the lights to go out
but she just stares
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 12:43 AM UTC
I imagined you
Daydreamed you
All of you
Your beautious wonder
Your faults
I looked at you and you were the same
As I imagined you
I saw the real you
But in my head you
Kissed me
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 6:17 PM UTC