"blatantly" poems
there are two types of sadness
there’s the kind of sadness
we ignore and
try to get rid of it
by finding new things to do
or we find someone to talk to
by blatantly avoiding any type of conversation
about feeling sad
about having any feelings at all
and then there’s that kind of sadness
that takes over
and it consumes any activity we do
we know it’s there
and there’s no possible way to avoid it
so we feed it exactly what it wants
it craves the sad music
it craves the isolation
it craves the anxiousness
and the sadness comes storming in
it has no manners
here we are calling sadness, an “it”
when all it is
is a feeling
that most people
call home
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 2:00 PM UTC
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway,
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
In willfully prevenient interpolation,
Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray,
Forecasts in vague extrapolation
Contrasts the millennial contagion
Already underway,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion,
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion,
The personable recluse fighting an illusion
Breaking down the nuances of every institution.
Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity
Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility,
An opinionated adversary,
to the realist without evidence,
Theorizing in futility,
Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community.
Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified,
Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified,
Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide,
Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide,
Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified.
Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity,
As consequential regiments are expounded universally,
To unstratify the residents indiscriminately
And identify quantum elements spiritualistically,
Changing collective behavior individually,
Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Overlook the fragile hourglass figure
Beyond corsets and pseudo-beauty rules,
Endorse thy curves and stretch marks strewn,
The dusky skin and frizzy curls,
Braille like pimples on the face
Discoloration, bumps and pores;
This Body shaming, I shall pass.
Writhing in pain and humiliation,
Drenching in rage and insecurity
While I lie,
Society curses me
Defining and redefining my chastity;
'T was the crop top, the alcohol and the sly behavior.
You set the monster free and blame the ****
This Victim shaming, I shall pass.
Beige and ebony;
They call me names blatantly
Betwixt skin color and bleached smiles.
Laugh and scoff all you want.
Harass the Black, detain them,
Prejudiced minds rule your dystopian world.
This Black shaming, I shall pass.
Without creating a labyrinth of stigma,
And seeking refugee in collective blame,
Let's construct our utopian world
Acknowledging all freaks and flaws
This Shaming, we shall pass.
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 8:05 AM UTC
Hate is hate
It's a trap of fate
It's a thing that takes
And it takes everything
It corrupts the roots to the ends
It covers every thing with its hand
And it blatantly takes stand
Taking up every bit of light and love with its shadows of darkness
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC
Skin blushed peach on snow white cheeks
Luster and grandeur not seen by the meek
Intrinsically dominant furnace of femininity
Dither and hither be stricken for insincerity
If you try to speak to her expect less then levity
To your advances she implies depravity
Blatantly ignorant vacuous blond *****
Tell me again how I hate you and want ***
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 10:05 AM UTC
Broken flesh, infected in dissolute.
We tend to dispute our vision of the world seeing only black and white.
Our eyes decieve us blatantly concealing the harmonic view of a one race with different shades.
Philia filling my heart with philosophies of what love actually is.
Conforming to the emotions of our soul drifting towards carnality.
Seduced by the luring sweet scent that our desires tend to offer often leading to our spirits fatality.
A promise is yet to come. A sacrifice made for us with the Annointed One hanging under inri. We forget our mistakes are not irreversible and He gave us the chance to live with Him for eternity.
Agape. The love so beautiful its tangability pushes us towards Him even when our lifes are resisting. His love being the cure to my absence and His peace being the sustainter of my life...so who am i to barricade you from His real love.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 8:43 AM UTC
one more for Joni and the one who accuses me of
"owning the courage to care so blatantly."
<:>
accused of writing with blatant courage,
a 4 credit requirement for caring
blatant is a word of merger -
open obvious unsubtle and unashamed
and a dissembling misleading one!
it is all of these and yet can be a contradictory mask of
opposing, differing faces
my blatant is none of these
but appearance only
**** muses keep me coming back
to a particular lyric,
keeps seeking me out, so successfully, wherever I go,
I hear it
it’s invading my both sides now
the dizzy dancing way you feel
you think I have my own blatant courage, untrue!
so oft you mistook my dizzy dancing,
all fluff all humbug so obvious so ashamed,
a cover up, a most subtle cosmetic pretense of the truth -
of
no courage at all
and yet (they mock)
you do care...
just another of my peculiar
life’s illusions
(self-delusions)
I really don’t have blatant courage at all
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 9:18 AM UTC
a lot of people I know
are never really happy
even when they’re happy, they’re really just sad
a lot of people I know
settle for just about anything
they’ll settle for emotional abuse and then settle for a deep addiction to feel better about the emotional abuse they’re letting themselves prostrate to
as long as it can still make “living” seem feasible,
they’ll settle
because nobody taught them how to ask for what they want,
so all this time they never ******* knew they were granted permission to feel worthy of getting what they want
because this world likes to think that nobody is entitled to feel worthy or to give into clarity
a lot of people I know
get off on damaging themselves
because blood and burns and bones and ***** and *** and pills and puke
are such disgusting in-your-face secrets
and this world knows it’s not acceptable to just blatantly write
“I hate myself” on your forehead with permanent marker for everyone else to see
yes, this stupid, guileful world we live in decided to trick everyone into believing that secrecy and suppression are what make a person
interesting and loveable
a lot of people I know
have this wicked demon inside of them
and they like to imagine it looks like a fiery nightmare,
red like terror
with a devilish face; poisonous eyes and a heartless grin;
a face that says “I own you”
just so that they can reinforce their ideas of worthlessness
and the self-pity of not having true control over themselves
when really, they can always have true control whenever they want
what a lot of people I know don’t know is that
that wicked demon thing inside of them
is really just a flower wilting, starving, dying,
waiting, hoping, longing to be watered
and wondering what the **** they did
to be tortured like this
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 11:24 AM UTC
It's mortifying...
The dilemma, the time lapse, the wait, the clock.
The abstract that I so blatantly describe in my other writings.
Time cannot be paused, stopped...
The abstraction is so formulated into one diverse piece, the creation of such is appealing, yet reformative.
Inconsequential, to the matter of science, myth, philosophy, conduct, and everything that exists beyond our mind.
I hold onto this creation, because the conclusion of the matter holds many intellectual debates that cannot be won or answered.
It is forbidden, it's lost.
The question of right and wrong holds many definitions that are inexplicable to the concept of reality itself, when the utter illusion holds the introspection that philosophers like myself, cannot give a precise answer to.
Time will let us be.
It's a quiet storm, and I've never felt like this before.
Sometimes I think, you're just too good for me.
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 4:48 PM UTC
These are confessions I can never send.
Because they blatantly won't understand
and that is something I need to get,
They don't care for me enough to accept the ways they hurt me and say sorry.
They are hypocrites,
Because they want me to stay weary.
They want me to always let go and cry alone.
They don't care if around them I'm woeful.
Mom,
You always said I was in the wrong,
Cleaning and chores were our only "bond"
You never chose me unless you could brag.
Dad,
You broke my heart,
You'd catch me when I'd fall
But never stuck up for me in the end.
Mom chooses to make me a villain,
All I wanted was her acceptance
but she sees me as a sinner who's selfish,
I should put my pain aside and pretend I'm good.
I will be left to wonder forever,
Why my pain doesn't matter
In comparison to my sister,
Why am I less accepted when I'm in pain?
Dad loves me because he sees himself in me.
I look like him, we share a hobby
but growing up I believed that was the only thing he loved about me
Because one moment he'd be there, but would runaway when I needed him most.
Alone, he would listen,
He would say he'd help me
But in front my mom he was different.
Suddenly, what we said in the car was insignificant.
I'm an adult who doesn't know her needs, wants, and likes
Because I spent my life trying to be accepted.
No one taught me how to accept myself,
Or how to know what I need or want.
If someone cared unconditionally,
I clinged to them.
I hoped they'd never leave,
because I never got that from my family.
Now I'm in therapy, crying in every session
That I'm hurt again because of them,
Or hurt by myself because
I don't know who I am.
Mar 6, 2024
Mar 6, 2024 at 7:17 AM UTC
i am the architect of my own demolition.
i know what ive done, but i will not admit
that i am the cause.
i know that by admitting it,
i will never be able to live with myself.
so with that,
i choose to blatantly ignore
all evidence you throw at me.
i will ignore my own head,
yet alone
the thoughts that rage in yours.
but the funny thing is,
my head will forever be louder
than the words you continue to yell at me.
my head is equivalent to
the loud static of a broken television;
only not able to be turned off.
i am saving myself from my own destruction.
but at the same time
i am creating more for you.
you are the rug i sweep all my actions under.
you are the jar i hide all my confessions in.
for i am a monster,
a monster only seen
when i look into the mirror.
you are my mirror.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 9:33 PM UTC
You can tell a lot about
A person by the ones he admires.
Another telling factor is
The people whom he inspires.
Donald Trump, for example,
Praises Putin, a leader who
Has jailed dissenters, squashed human rights,
And done away with opponents, too.
After a questionable referendum,
Which restricts in many ways
Civil rights, the leader of Turkey,
Erdoğan, received Trump's praise.
Duterte of the Philippines--
Authoritarian and leading official--
Has had thousands of people killed
In a manner blatantly extrajudicial.
So that's his way of solving the problem
Of drugs in the Philippines is it?
And guess who wants the blood-thirsty,
Despotic leader to come for a visit?
And then there's the leader of North Korea,
Kim Jong Un. Only a rookie
Would say that the mad, unhinged and murderous
Leader was a "pretty smart cookie."
Trump's had business ties with three
Of the above countries. There's no mistaking.
But does this mean that a Trump Tower
In Pyongyang is in the making?
-by Bob B (5-3-17)
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 9:57 AM UTC
*Soft underbellies of corruption, impropriety and moral decay
Blatantly masquerade as societal bulwarks to aggression and disintegration
Minions fine-tuned to dance to the tune
Of godfather functionaries champion
Progressively retrogressive causes that follow
The course of destruction.
Is there light at the end of the tunnel?
Reason and logic persuade otherwise
It’s thus “safe” to conclude that
A compassion filled individual
Quintessentially embodies a positively radicalized individual
Wielding immense unbridled power
To impact society in ways unfathomable
Whilst in complete understanding of the fact that
“Absolute power corrupts absolutely”
Are you that compassion filled individual??*
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
I feel as close to you as how wind is to my skin,
I feel as powerful with you as how I am with a gun.
I feel as courageous next to you as how sky divers are with working parachutes.
I feel as sad without you as departing rain drops from dark hovering clouds.
I feel as bored dismissing you as a good book read by a blind man.
I feel as far from you as how the visible sun is if you look from Earth.
I feel as clouded missing you as the moon is clouded by nebulae.
I feel as dejected promising you as government cronies over promising development.
I feel as lonely not seeing you as Golden Retrievers are when their masters are not around.
I feel as blatantly bloated next to you as over-heated air balloons raise up the shiny sky.
I feel as speechless around you as unprepared speakers in a conference hall.
And at the end, I feel as close to you as how my eyes met yours then cheekily, we detached our sight and pretend that we were never close at all.
I feel close to you still
but even closer
to sin.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC
Forgiveness, to forgive (for me)
Is essentially subtle- to a fault,
Beautifully it's practiced,
Yet inherently mistaught:
To ask of anything more
From the person you've done wrong
Is blatantly selfish, at its core
Pressuring them along.
Unless exactly, specific and honestly, you reiterate once more.
All the reasons which you petition forgiveness
And what you're sorry for:
To draw conclusions, assumptions and things, without the facts in place-
Was to right out start off in
an Unreasonable head space.
Furthermore, my tone of voice
And the disrespect it achieved
Is not what you- Alena, not at all
From me; should've ever recieved.
Lastly, explicitly I have to say;
I'm sorry for my aggressive words.
And the fact I reacted that way is
absurd
A retort- as a minuet or two, voice note
Deserved the block- and what you wrote.
*I'm sorry about this- discrepancy
I actually enjoyed you working with me.
I'll leave this here for you to find, &
Hope these words were worth your time.
When you read, know these are sincere; my apologies- true.
Not just mere pretty, fluffy words for you.*
Poetry's something I, almost know, you appreciate~ so heres an apologistic-free vers hyphenate.
Nov 21, 2023
Nov 21, 2023 at 5:56 AM UTC
i love you when we're alone
because you eviscerate me in front of your friends
but alone you kiss the veins in my arms
press your small hips into my hips & sigh into my neck
& blink so slowly that i can hear your eyelids whispering
you won't hold my hand in public
because you blatantly want to seem available to other men
but when it's only you & it's only me
we lie on our backs letting the summer rain collect in puddles
in our bellybuttons & you swear to god
there's only one way this can end
you say i can't meet your parents
but everything i do reminds you of your father
that tall strong man of your childhood
singing sinatra to your mother in the kitchen
just like i do when i sneak behind you &
tickle your neck with my tongue you're
giggling as i carry you like a bride
into your bedroom for naptime or playtime
you only miss me when you're by yourself
like a flower hidden in a fenced-in backyard
but you ignore my texts most days
because when your friends are around you're busy
dancing toward the sun & lying to them
about where you spent last night &
the blueberry pancakes you ate for breakfast
you don't mention the ticklish new rib spot i found
or the quiet music we make together at night
or the stars we wished on with our pinky fingers tied together
i love you most when we're sticky asleep alone
you humming in turquoise ******* snuggled into my armpit
with your warm hand melting into my chest
& me in the pinstripe boxer briefs you bought with
my arm under and reaching for your exposed breast
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC
Yes it's true I'm cheating on you
Blatantly with another site
I'm so enamored by her poetry
We're now hanging out in broad daylight
I keep going back and forth
Between both you and it
Pouring out poetry deep from my heart
Now I'm not sure I can ever quit
I do feel a tad bit guilty
This sharing of my poetic love
But like you heard, with the written word
I can't seem to get enough
She accepts me for who I am
Even welcomed me with open arms
I was thinking the whole time in the back of my mind
What could possibly be the harm
Now I feel I'm in way to deep
To swim out of this cheaters stream
The current is swift and the banks are steep
Guess I'll just drown in sweet misery
I'm so glad to get this off of my chest
Perhaps it'll take away some of the guilt
Although I sometimes hang with that other harlot
I want you to know I love you still
Yes the rumors are true that I'm cheating on you
With another poetry site
A month ago who would have known
I'd have more than one mistress in my life
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 10:00 AM UTC
he claims to just be blatantly honest.
but he calls me lovely.
and compliments me.
and listens wholly.
and has extreme dysmorphia towards my weight.
and reads my poetry.
and compliments it.
and treats me as if I possess some sort of innate value.
and makes me feel secure.
---
was he lying about being honest?
or am I lying to myself about my value?
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC
seated at the backseat with our song on repeat
she reached for a stick inside the back pocket of her faded denim jeans
i heard a familiar flick sound
only to see a lighter on her hand
silence fell upon us
not knowing what to say, i glanced around
trying to find an excuse not to continue to blatantly stare at her
still, she is all i see through my peripheral vision
savoring the smoke,
letting it all fill her lungs
puffing,
inhaling
yes, a stick could **** sooner or later
if no one dares to stop her
but what if she's already dying inside? or what if she's just doing this to fight the demon who made its way inside her soul?
chained her heart,
no plan of letting it go
i may have seen her burned her throat countless times already
yet, it still feels like the first time her thin lips pressed against the filter
how i wish it was my lips, instead...
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 6:16 AM UTC
I think
The reason I felt
All tingly, when you asked,
"Ma'am, have you fastened your seat belt?"
was this Uniform of yours.
Why else would I blatantly stare
At you walking towards the cockpit,
Wondering if you'll look as good
Without it?
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 2:07 AM UTC
Just sitting back kicking back kicking facts on a track showing no slack never whack rap isn't just black is universal and that's a fact it's like when I write I direct My own movie like spike Lee it seems to me that loose leaf abuse to ink is therapy not hairapy it's not the hair it's the brain underneath it I believe it when I see it so by all means come kick it or split it down the middle with a complex riddle or rifle not to trifle with
This niche of my life is hell bent or heaven sent I'm not sure which I know there's a plan for me I can't see it yet but you can bet I'll do my best to fulfill my expectations without jealousy infidelity or me disrespecting you blatantly or indirectly
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 9:22 PM UTC
He's damaged,
Unfixable it seems
What others would call
nightmares
Are his sweetest dreams
And sometimes
He takes his emotions
to
extremes
It's so blatantly obvious
When he finally
breaks down
And screams
That the world
brought him to his knees
He's a broken spirit.
And I just don't know
If my love
can mend his soul
Or if my broken pieces
Are enough to make
him
whole.
And if I use what
little I have left
To put him back together
Won't that just
leave me
In a shattered pile of emotions
forever?
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 7:44 AM UTC
Lately my mind has been in one place beyond the stars,
I try to connect the dots but they just leave trails of false happiness tainted in scars.
I’ve been lost and consumed with unimaginable distraught built up in me
Went from writing poetry on a daily to not at all due to the animosity I blinded myself to see.
I look in the mirror and see someone I don’t recognize,
From all the lessons learnt I still fantasize how life would be without uncomforting cries.
I believe that life without the setbacks prevents you from appreciating the triumphs,
But what happens to the pieces of you that stayed shattered while life was your worst enemy?
To battle with life is to drag yourself across the finish line after every milestone
Bruises, blood, sweat, tears become a cushion to your self-destruction and you lost your way from home.
They name hurricanes after people because we are a cluster of emotions burning inside, we set fire to our own rain,
We add fuel to our own fire because we rather suffer than to gain,
We become our own enemy and barricade ourselves from outside pain but lock ourselves in and become insane.
Insanity becomes our best friend. We persuade ourselves to get better but rather give another person a helping hand,
We give advice because genuinely that’s what we want to hear but we run into loops and bury our security in the sand.
Looking beyond the stars trying to connect the dots of the chaos but the galaxy lye in me, the fire lye in me, the hurricane lye in me the mediocrity lye in me,
Blatantly to say,
The only person that can save me, is… me.
-dpk
Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 9:52 PM UTC