"belittles" poems
You think you're not good enough for a girl because she's popular and you're not.
She thinks she's too good for you so she belittles you and it sure hurts you a lot.
She thinks she's too good for you because she considers you to be a nerd.
But you are good enough and when you say you're not, it's absolutely absurd.
You're a great person, you volunteer at a homeless shelter and donate to charities.
She knows about this but she still thinks she's too good when she should be pleased.
Please listen to what I have to say because it's true.
You should find another girl who will appreciate you.
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 5:48 PM UTC
The purest sense of understanding that allows two hearts to move beyond the borders of the conscious, thinking mind.
Without the thoughts that twist the words, that distort perception; what is conveyed, is... is... unconditional acceptance and love. In this simple concept we find solace, we find connection, we reach the precipice of and stare in awe at the beauty of the humane soul. Everything seems perfect.
By this perfection, given face value, we draw the ever permanent distinction between what what is black and what is white; what is wrong and what is right; what is virtue and what is moral travesty. For inherent to humanity is the eagerness, bias and extremity with which we represent the good and evil of this world. For who would believe that the "caretaker", wrought of good intentions, could be soiled in his actions?
The caretaker that empathizes with the troubled or broken soul is a testament to the honesty of a human heart; but he who enables others with his empathy becomes not the caretaker, but the "jailer". Through his conviction to ALWAYS be there, to sooth the hurts, to understand the pains and to maintain control... by those actions, he belittles them. The relief of empathy is only temporary. Empathy does not enact change, it is mere salve and bandage, it quells the aches for but a moment. And when they return, in their woes, the service of the empathizer becomes requirement.
For though empathy may be needed, with the power to forge a bond of deep understanding, its indiscriminate use only stunts. Personal growth, it is found by many paths in this world. We must grow and mature; let others do the same. Life is a journey with many opportunities but also many hardships, we are defined by these. If we are stunted by the empathy of others, in their quest to protect us, we will never grow, never achieve that which is greater, and never leave our "prison".
Virtue or vice... once again in the hands of the beholder.
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 2:04 PM UTC
Smile and eyes make my day
Her insecurity ruins everything
Can't have friends because she jealous
Will hurt your feelings and controlling
She picks a fight when you avoid drama
You love her but makes it hard to live
Never happy with all you give
Belittles all the good you did
She is the ex hates seeing you happy with the next
You wish her the best say goodbye
There will never be a next time
She beauty external
The ugly internal
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
Poetry with simple rhyme scheme
isn't really poetry at all.
It takes all the artistry of language,
and crushes their greatness
into something rather small.
It belittles the sharp peaks of your smile,
that peek through porcelain veils.
It takes the beauty of your eyes,
and brings them down to scale.
The rhyming ruins all seriousness,
true poets take in pride,
it leaves their work in ridicule,
though their emotions are implied.
It vastly understates
the warmth in your cheeks,
and incredibly discounts
the lions of your dreams,
making them seem weak.
That is why I will never write a poem
describing the perfection of you
in a silly little rhyme scheme;
that is what I shall not do.
I will, however, jest
at what rhyming cannot describe,
although it tries to do its best,
it falls by the wayside,
For limericks cannot contain
my pretentious heart and soul,
and cannot compare
to the magnificence you hold.
Because if I could contain your spirit,
in matters of stanzas and rhyme
my talents would be wasted,
this atrocity a crime,
But you make my writing worthwhile,
and give me ideas to muse,
instead of the dull and dread,
the pretender's butter and bread,
with none of my talents to use.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
Content, with a tinge of love,
I repent
All I've given up.
Realize what I've surmised
Is a traversed trial of fire.
Higher, higher;
The atmosphere you admire:
Lighter breathing,
Muscles beating,
Entreating my desire.
A pyre,
The phoenix feeling renaissance:
The lover's having ---
Once the want to be satisfied ---
Which was, while shattered, reconciled ---
Compiled a mile-long list
To mist the ever-flowering tree
Of prospect,
Respecting past
Opinion.
Your dominion over my
Ever-subjugating heart
(Pulsating a Morse message)
Belittles meaning in
Stockholm Syndrome,
For I am no
Shackled drone;
And, forever,
This you've known.
We are symbiotic.
We are psychotic.
Celeritous symbols
Sampling this:
Extended metaphor.
Extempore, we entertain and
Adore each other,
The world we are to each.
So: teach me how you look
With beseeching reach
Into deep territory in sleep;
Incept directly
And affect me
Romantically.
Augment what is meant and true.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 11:20 PM UTC
Visit my home
Visit my Parents
Parents are shaky
Parents are old
Old and crippled
Old and afraid
Afraid of life
Afraid of death
Death is real
Death is coming
Coming of age
Coming and going
Going for broke
Going to try
Try to behave
Try to shine
Shine and sparkle
Shine my shoes
Shoes to fill
Shoes are big
Big, but belittles
Big and bad
Bad little boy
Bad wooden cane
Cane or crutch
Cane for Dad
Dad is old
Dad is limping
Limping too much
Limping from Karma
Karma is debt
Karma is old
Old and battered
Old and grey
Grey brings fear
Grey and blue
Blue on blue
Blue but free
Free as wind
Free as snow
Snow and snow
Snow must go
Go back home
Go from fear
Fear and tears
Fear is past
Past is gone
Past is insane
insane....
past...
*Blitz Poem
Line 1 should be one short phrase or image
Line 2 should be another short phrase or image using the same first word as the first word in Line 1
Lines 3 and 4 should be short phrases or images using the last word of Line 2 as their first words
Lines 5 and 6 should be short phrases or images using the last word of Line 4 as their first words, and so on until you’ve made it through 48 lines
Line 49 should be the last word of Line 48
Line 50 should be the last word of Line 47
The title of the poem should be three words long and follow this format: (first word of Line 3) (preposition or conjunction) (first word of line 47)
There should be no punctuation*
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 2:41 PM UTC
Cold morning kiss
Of the landward winds;
How zephyr’s misty pout
Along a smile brings.
The long white line
Goes farther than I see
Shows the incessant flow
And tireless industry
Of the vast ocean
With timeless presence
Basked in mellifluous music
Of the waves’ cadence.
I fall for instantly
This infinite pulchritude
Which gently belittles
My existence’s platitude.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC
To offer me friendship
Is to insult my love
The love I have for you
Could not pretend a smile
I cannot look at you
And not tell you I loved you
To offer me friendship
After all the bonds we shared
The tears we have shed
The passion we had
The hopes for each other
Is to insult and slander
Those hardships and memories
It belittles our own feelings
It escapes accountability
By pretending we are fine
I would rather
Look at you with angst
With sorrow and yearning
Than to uphold a lie
That you preferred to live by
We cannot be friends
Just as we
Cannot be together
Aug 28, 2025
Aug 28, 2025 at 9:22 AM 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
They tell me one day
I would know what it feels like
They tell me one day
I will finally get it right
They tell me one day
I would find my own happiness
They tell me one day
I will get out of this phase
But one day seems far away
As the seasons keep changing
But one day seems far away
Because I still feel very lonely
But one day seems far away
As my mind taunts and belittles me
But one day seems far away
As a reason for me to live
Dec 26, 2022
Dec 26, 2022 at 11:18 AM UTC
Impressionable young women
encouraged to enter a trade
that oft belittles and degrades
detrimental to mental health
not worth the short-term wealth
people have become inured
forget the pain often endured
reality becomes obscured
to enter a life of vice
women can feel they have no choice
no other way they recognise
fed by their dealers lies
I always picture it seedy
making a living from the needy
pimps are just plain greedy
big men, in fact, weedy
I’m told its consensual
to me thats nonsensical
is it anyway factual
maybe ‘John’s’ whimsical
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 1:22 PM UTC
Withering kiss belittles fate
Sultry, affluent, perfection lost
a damnation of intent
skewed by empty plight
endearing atrophy weaves no ties
cut from the crowd
whispers seeking place in time
Wreaking havoc upon sullen breadth
dreams disguise desire
the facade awakens every day
the ghostly touch of weightless hands
deliverance, mourning truth
each dream ached by sunder of hope
remiss of such light, I become mired
such calmness and good comes of the night
by day, there resides no such kindness by my side
I await, forever..
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 2:51 PM UTC
Impressionable young women
encouraged to enter a trade
that oft belittles and degrades
detrimental to mental health
not worth the short-term wealth
people have become inured
forget the pain often endured
reality becomes obscured
to enter a life of vice
women can feel they have no choice
no other way they recognise
fed by their dealers lies
I always picture it seedy
making a living from the needy
pimps are just plain greedy
big men, in fact, weedy
I’m told its consensual
to me thats nonsensical
is it anyway factual
maybe ‘John’s’ whimsical
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 7:25 AM UTC
I sit leaning against a tree
on the edge of a grove
under a star strewn sky
regarding a stream close by.
Waters glimmering,it softly flows
running to the river with glee.
Curious,I approach on my knees.
I see little lights in the water,
not of stars yet not within reach.
Phantasmagoria of images in each.
The stream runs to wider waters
thus carrying dreams to set free.
Now following the stream,
I walk beneath a dark leafy canopy,
the twinkling water the only light.
Like as in the darkest of nights
when the eyes can't see,
the heart being led by dreams.
Coming out into the open
I see the river stretching away
and a crescent moon rising afar.
I descry to my right a pale star
gliding near with a gentle sway.
Enthralled,I stand as one frozen.
Out of the night looms a ship
gloriously and delicately wrought,
silent oars dipping and rising,
smooth waters before it parting.
Truly a star it has brought
casting on the rest an eclipse.
She stands on the deck,alone.
Clad in white and in radiance,
slender yet not frail,
wearing a diaphanous veil.
Her gaze transcends transience,
Her beauty belittles beauty known.
Her eyes linger upon mine.
It seems but for a fleeting time,
a fleeting moment of eternity.
A moment of serendipity.
The vessel with a grace sublime
sails away,hallowed by her shine.
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 10:23 AM UTC
I had almost forgotten,
The lines between the lines,
Details in dreary designs,
Perpetual persistent patterns,
Relentlessly resilient repetitions.
Why would you come now?
To remind, reminisce or read,
Reckless racks of reads.
All- knowing knocking knight,
A random reckoning recites.
What are these questions?
You ask, alter and annoint,
These dreadful death dreams,
And plough out pangs of pain,
Of a wilted and withered world.
Can't allow this anymore,
Lose this loathful lust of yours,
That belittles my boistrous being,
Paint a pretty picture please,
Let go and leave, one last time.
I live in a different universe,
Of my wonderful whimsical wishes,
Floating over my fantastic fairy tale,
Never nitpicking the neverending nows,
The happy hopeful and happening hows.
May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 12:37 PM UTC
I see you in the drunken man on the bus, singing hits
from the 60s,
I hear you when a man near your age belittles me, over a
job he knows nothing about,
I feel you when that initial rejection from someone hits, craving
validation you failed to gift me,
craving to be enough,
I smell you as friends open bottles of cheap ale, a scent
embedded into my bloodstream,
I miss you when I see a father and his child playfully race in the
park over the road,
I'm always wanting what I don't have.
Apr 10, 2021
Apr 10, 2021 at 9:26 AM UTC
Time seemed flawless those distinct seconds
But yet again you vacated boldly
I’m scrambling confidently
Through the portal
Reaching for ****** opinions
Sometimes the thought of hope belittles you
There is a solo anticipating you
There is a journey expecting you
I named a diamond after you mailed the postcard
It could always be.
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 5:51 PM UTC
I scream at the top of my lungs
out and across vast, honey-wheat plains.
A cool morning breeze hugs my barren body-
and its chills seem to ask the wind, "Is this indecision?
If I need be tentative, do I in turn hideaway my courage?"
An unsure finish leads me to hesitation.
Yet, ecstatic excitement and the thrill of possibility
lay a soft kiss upon the supple lips of opportunity.
And I know now that it is my time to run-
with arms wide open as the sun shines upon my face
and the wind whispers into my ear, feelings of a quintescent
energy so fluid and real beg to rip apart my rib cage and pour
the soul of my heart onto the begging and thirsty soil beneath my bare feet.
Sensational unknowing, how can my soul catapult into such a terrific nothingness!
And to have this terrific nothingness accept my soul!
I do not know whether I should be screaming with laughter or tearing down my cheeks in streams.
I need not halt at failure!
Or do I?
A projection of delusions lead me to a certain insanity.
Do i dare decide for myself the precise moment in time
in which it is a must for me to fall victim to the ordinary?
For the white-walled normalities of life
seem to be enclosing around my very thoughts.
Corruption belittles me as well as others,
and I know that I now must settle down-
and serve for the greater good.
But time can lead the mind to wander-
and every once in awhile I find myself pondering
beautiful rebellion.
But I must not think that way, for age and society
have conspired in clipping my wings, and to think freedom
is to play along to a forgotten game that was played during a forgotten age.
Oh hollowed life, long corrupted and conformed world, how dare you toil with the understanding of space and time?
I fall to my knees with my face buried in my hands.
Genuine madness and excitement, is your absence permanent?
Must this last forever?
The sun is setting now and I realize that my hope should have remained
never.
And I scream at the top of my lungs out and across spacious honey-wheat plains.
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 8:36 AM UTC
becoming a believer
belittles those who
best belong beside
everyone
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 7:03 PM UTC
*they call me the mourning dove.
hallowed be my refrain.
i sing with a bleeding tongue-
beauty stems from my pain.*
you're slivered inside and derided on sight.
your abhorrent habits have cast fans aside-
your knack for dramatics belittles the tragic.
it isn't romantic. get over your strife.
*they call me the mourning dove.
hallowed be my refrain.
i sing with a bleeding tongue-
beauty stems from my pain.*
not all life is suffering- you're twisting it in your head.
psychosomatic pain's no reason to act dead.
you're wasting your youth with these childish blues.
self-pity is useless, contagious. get out of bed.
*they call me the mourning dove.
hallowed be my refrain.
i sing for my poisoned loves-
my voices guides them to their graves.*
stop worr'ying the wound and it'll event'lly heal.
quit floating towards koreyland- identify what is real.
if you wanna get better you gotta be brave.
face the pain and the rain or stay caught up in tears and weals.
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 2:34 PM UTC
My refrain is sung with refrain, because one
Who was accustomed to customs at airports and ports
Was to deport, and depart from my home
And my heart tomorrow
To borrow time and leave me
Rhyming why's and lies and sighs
Just to get by, by falling back on moving forward.
Her sentence sealed my sentence
"It's never enough to be home
Without ever being home"
Her point pierced home.
So with all I had left she left,
To be seasoned by seasons
And return turned into what I understood
Might not love me, mightily.
But Mays and and Octobers don't last,
And at last, what passed became past.
And may have brought me closure, and her closer.
Spring sprang a surprise on me.
On a windy road on a windy day
April, June summer may or may not have been.
When like a flower I like she appeared.
Daisies dazed me with brighter brights
And the sky's blue hues were new hues of blues.
Because cause belittles the little bees and the birds.
Who get by trusting the skies and flowers.
And while I was wondering of hope wandering in misery.
She solved her mystery in Him and me.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 5:02 AM UTC
you represent everything that is most sincere
back in days of kings foul tongue
rapture never exsisted in those black hearts
only the words of the innocent
hands slowly ajoined
streching out slowly like the rose's pedal in her sleep
red and bloodlike
faint like and love like
your gunshot swastica hanging over the bitter palet of my tongue
words spat like fiery arches just go ahead
go along darling
run
run
escape the white fire its thickness
filled with your anomisty
joy
joy
weakness though belittles others
manipulates itself into a indominable
creature in my fists
hung tight
breathing slowly; and my knots
they untwist
I look at the fading blue lines
in these pale wrists
wake up in the mornings
smile, easy brushes of colorful paint
all over my face
strocked down my body and my chest
naked
plundering
blistering
withering
into these sentimental peices
of execution watching the tunic
spots in my vision
creating the resolutions
for a unkept land of twisted
mahogany and trees that
are just too young for me
dirt not ***** enough
you see
my lavender mixes with the wetness
elsewhere and manifest
this purity
female waiting at the end
calmly
lock the heart and rid the fury
I fathom the day shall come
when transgrations are thrown like
hurdels of ordinary minds
refinment and so far away
from you and I
I will wait on my bedded thrown
bleeding, wounded, stabbed and
alone
inject myself over and over
with this temporary happy vaccine
until I am king
and you are
Queen
Dec 7, 2010
Dec 7, 2010 at 10:00 AM UTC
Some people just don't understand
That I can read a face like the back of my hand
With an Inner Critic at the back if my mind
It judges and examines everyone I find
Along with every action I take
Are you sure that's not a mistake
With every person I meet
Lair, Lie! Flaw! Flaw! Don't even greet
But I'm the victim here
No one likes you, you're weird. Don't go near
But I can't always be alone
Just use your phone
It doesn't stop, it's forever speaking
Ruthlessly reminding me of my flaws
Into my hollow core it's forever peaking
It scratches the inside skull with claws
It belittles and berates
It remembers all the dates
That were your most bleak
When you try you can't speak
You unwillingly see the worst in friends
Your relationship bends
Then you are the one to blame
As continues the game
The Inner Critic, oh the mastermind
Quick as ever, one of a kind
You can't turn and run
Help, it's no longer fun
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 8:56 PM UTC
Midnight strikes
Up on the clock
We feel it pass
Our eyes look not
Slowly drifting
Past our limit
For this sin
Please be forgiveness
With every sip
The time hands tick
Down our veins
The poison drips
It's washed away
With ruby reds
Crystal whites
And water threads
Electrons fire
Out of control
Lost in confusion
Nowhere to go
Pathways merge
And sparks erupt
Assistance hurries
In a rush
It's still outside
So plain and simple
Take a sip
And life belittles
Problems that are
In our way
Persistent trouble
Rainy days
Pushed aside is
Sadness, sorrow
Though pity will reside
Sunrise tomorrow
And not for my life's
Unfortunate standing
Not for the deck
Which I have been handed
But because I chose
To indulge in this
Life's simple road
To sudden bliss
Sep 22, 2011
Sep 22, 2011 at 2:55 AM UTC
i detest how she
belittles her freckles
when i see them as a galaxy
and i want to count every star
and watch every wish i make come true
as she laughs and calls me cute
because i lost count
when i looked up into her eyes
although i really just got lost
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 10:54 AM UTC