"blinder" poems
Shopping was the world first invitation to women,
a freedom to move out of her house. Initially,
Woman practiced shopping for vegetables and slowly
extended to garments/jewelry/white goods etc. Today,
the world has experiencing a better market due to
window shopping. The concept innovated by women,
the women who started window shopping has helped
the awareness of the market, The more the window shopping,
more the sales. The concept of window shopping
helped the textile industries to understand about their products.
The textile industries has developed in terms of marketing
say readymade, exchangeable, trial rooms, gifts coupons
are coz of women. Its encouraged the women to do
shopping effectively.
Facts about shopping. Customer who shop with their friends
tend to buy more costly products than when they shop alone.
Next, In terms of clothing, General advises is to buy
one garment at a time coz If you buy few dresses, You tend the use
the first selected dress more than the others. Buying 'Take Away'
in (costly) restaurant was the blinder coz restaurant charge more
for the ambience less for the food. Using cash on shopping,
you tend to spend less and you bargain more. Don't increase
your buying to eligible for discount coupon. A survey says
that 90% of the issued discount coupons are never redeemed.
Never shop on Discount Sale coz the best collection will be
taken off the shelf by the shopkeeper. The amazing fact,
If any one buy the best and costly clothes one size less than
the one normally uses, has brought down the weight
of that person.
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 8:54 PM UTC
Tender strength, sender's excuse
A sneeze to reach to tomorrow
Avid, we determine a silence was...
A house of compromise, sincerity, and willfulness, to borrow...
Burden yourself with a memory, some other dainty...
A question thought liberty, driven by the wind
Has visited me, in the couth of decency's charity
Simple lessons of anger, and the angel of succumbing kin...
Redoubt is my only defense...
Pied, or provided a callous soul, the taint?
I seek is a lip with no meaning, meant in the essence
We direct to such, a season of wishes, we compare to ain't...
Anarchy in love, the thought to reason
Anarchy in though, the times found me a shown few
Anarchy in decision's, a guarantee of blinder moments
Anarchy in ascertainment, a host of wisdom to look at you
A yawn with no future...?
As shrewd as furious days make a prayer, a seclusion
Catching mine, in measure and deliberate other, is a cure
Forces in voices, and the rationality of mercy; loves only intrusion?
Psyche
Can I have my weight in gold, a tarter heaven?
So wished for, so washed of another fight...
With heaven, to remember succor in forms of resolve to come by, loving...
Dec 12, 2023
Dec 12, 2023 at 12:14 PM UTC
the way you have your way
i might as well choke on Atlantis
and yield to the twilight pitchfork
of your tongue. an amaranth.
whose nectar
is some
doom.
glue my misery
to the slippery
slope
of lost meaning....
all the while
meaning to do so -
a
farsight
more so
than knot
cope.
but
somehow, jellyfish blinder
than up close...
and
not quite
seeing
what matters
most.
just the sting.
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
A rose by any other name
Brings pain and thorns, oh what a shame
When love in all its purity brings
The joy of warm feelings, mine heart it sings
We dance about with flower on lips
Until torn our feet, we walk on tipsy tips
The belief that we have to journey through thorns
To find a true love, a perfect red rose
We give to you hearts, our body and soul
And our loves take it all, in dribs and drabs so bold
Wearing our blinder unable to see
They've torn away pieces, the pieces of me
As three drops spill on whitest snow
No fairytale prince, just the kiss of the black crow
This delicate flower will blossom either way
Through all the hardships, strong and steady I'll stay
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 8:08 AM UTC
i.
when she asked how we met,
we glanced sideways at one another,
smirking to ourselves,
only we know the secret,
and wouldn't she love to know?
"we met at the circus,
no, but really..."
ii.
when in fact, we met by chance,
by accident, but doesn't fate always
have the last word?
we sat side-by-side, touching
and spoke gentle stories to
one another
all night
and in the crowded dive bar,
music blaring, and
drunk people chattering,
i heard every word perfectly
iii.
she seemed surprised that we had
just met,
a blind date,
and yet, i was blinder even still
she excused herself right away,
an intruder on our inside joke
and any judgement was dismissed
we had created something
far more important
far more than intended
iv.
i keep expectations low on all things
if you build a wall, how do
you ever expect to climb over
without falling?
he kept reminding me of my smile,
and so i smiled some more,
until the blush was creeping all over my cheeks,
my face glowing with acceptance
from
this
stranger
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 5:45 PM UTC
The poet looks
and delves.
She wonders if he ever stops,
him, this rushing-forward-breathlessly train,
if he did park himself in fantastical paragraphs;
the poet is dumbfounded at him
ceasing.
In construction sites of grammar,
where free ideas float in ruins,
poet wonders how,
how, how
he came to plan to live
up
to an exclamation mark.
And condensed so many dribbles and strikes
of strange and fruitful, even withered
paragraphs into one line and pointer -
a smile and a lope-stagger dance of a walk -
an exclamation mark.
The poet stares, once again
astounded by the little streaks of the universe
and longs to hold on to something.
Disarmed,
she can't quite put a finger on it,
his gaping honesty and his quiet one,
that contradiction
shouting in her face
while whispering in her eyes.
The poet laughs -
laughs of, in, out
of sleep.
Summer is here.
And she chooses to notice.
He laughs too,
but he's always been noticing
and the poet writes down how
she learnt to bite and chew into the fruit of the world
and taste
it sour runny sweet cold explosive lingering
just as him.
The poet saw all
colours rolling in one
strange song of limbs.
She did not like the music
but she made herself a blank white canvas
and listened
and laughed
clean, silly laughs
fluting out of the incongruity
of simple,
simple
moments.
Fun life, easy stretch of the mouth -
it is possible to smile down at
what a clown pain is.
He declares this boldly
without saying a word
or two.
The poet is dumbfounded at him
being.
She did not see and had not seen and now only began to picture
but she was blind.
He said he was blinder and that
was true. The poet
did not smirk but giggle at the irony -
he lived in pop-bold spectacles,
she slept in black and white films.
But both were blind.
We cannot see and
we
are blurs.
The poet likes that life scrapes away at her
because she can see chinks of white sunshine
through all the sheared-off layers.
Clean, clean,
bright, bright -
he teaches her in a beam
without a hello.
The poet writes poetry
on breathing action prose.
And she laughs -
You are everything I don't want
but I'm curious.
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 5:48 PM UTC
Sadness still cursing your premature departure
Binds onto the fragility of life
Reminding me of our singular arrival and departure
The permanence is a blinder, wrecks our view
Mars the human condition for warmth and depth
Will someone await, our image imprinted in the book of life
Escape to another dimension, round the corner
Up the lane, to your laughter and smile
Vivid and unique, as was our friendship
Solemn is the seat of acceptance, yet selfish to
Remain in life without hope of a rainbow, a *** of gold
The secret of life remains a mystery, I wonder if
Death is equally so; are you on your journey oblivious
To what has gone before, never to look back
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 9:06 AM UTC
Tiptoe with me through roads of mottled rainbows
We’ll build a city of coffee cream clouds and crystallized light
Our sticky shadows can stumble jump rope with fizzling stars
And our light will tang in the air with peace
Every streecorner will have an off-key symphony
Played with tongues broken from laughter
Raise your arms to catch the words that’ve ballooned into the stratosphere
I’ll tangle my fingers in your palm to lift you higher
You’ll collect liquid moon in a sandcastle bucket
Drips of silver catching in your spidersilk hair
I’ll pour it down all outside the doily mold
It’ll twist down to earth in fractured motion
Trust me, I never knew how to fly
Only to fall, and to fall with broken hands
Jump with me and skate down a sunset
Dorothy ain’t got nothin’ on this kind of color
I’m blinder than an arsonist with night vision goggles
But only ‘cause I see with my heart instead of reflections of light
Life is opaque when your soul is an old one
Though I’m still getting drunk on the learning wine
Take a rose and ***** a finger on a petal
The softest feelings always have the sharpest bite
The devil’s left the details to hammer her way up to heaven
She’ll shatter kaleidoscope bullets into mosaics of sin
Love is the game that all the best dreamers play
I think up slow nonsense that fills my lungs with longing
Bright towns are always blurrier than the grey
And my brush is shaky from absent disuse
So bring me home (my home is you)
Build love from the broken rubble souls
Sing for our voices reaching higher than the sun
As my hair links with yours in the summer breeze
Frozen bubbles can chime on every door
Our bare feet will press into wet desert clay
Smiles will be painted pure and golden
And all the colors will fill our footprints as we walk away in joy.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
friends and liars
two words that should be opposites
too often find themselves synonymous
friends and liars
always take note of those who surround you
they'll prove the price is steep for a grain of truth
friends and liars
two words that we think should be separated
too often find themselves integrated
friends and liars
don't allow loyalty to become a blinder
know your worth keeping your circle tighter
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 5:55 PM UTC
Life crumbles my visions asunder,
Ignorance shoves me into clumsy blunder,
Love throws me into the zone of blinder,
Forgetting that I'm a Pathfinder.
When life deprives me off the briddle,
When everything seems to be a puzzle,
When my story goes like a riddle,
In grief, I hear life playing it's own fiddle.
Heavy weight makes my legs jiggle,
My blistered feet make me stumble,
But 'they' see me and chuckle,
While they used to praise me in hotels.
Engineering renders me a plater,
In my own house, am made a janitor,
I date a ****** city bunter,
Money in my life is a gutter.
Physique portrays me of a working Caliber,
So they ask "Do you work here?"
Yet behind the curtains am a begger,
A begger in fashioned attire.
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 2:44 AM UTC
Give him a toy gun
He pretends to be daddy
Who far away is fighting
In some far and distant war
But then in a child's eyes
See the hidden tears
When you have to tell him
Daddy won't be coming home
Momma always keeps her safe
Showing her warmth and love
But she knows Poppa will be back
Smelling of whiskey and angry
And in that child's eyes
She will watch him rage
Punch Momma in the stomach
Because his dinner is wrong
All around this world
We never see the truth
Because the older we become
The blinder we seem to be
And in the children's eyes
Their innocence is seen
But they see better than us
A future that is not meant to be
copyright Chris Smith 2010
Feb 3, 2010
Feb 3, 2010 at 6:44 PM UTC
... The only thing that hurts
is knowing that someone else
sees you through my eyes.
In a world begging to share perspective,
I hide mine like a cat's treasure
in crevices,
old corners,
poems,
laughter,
concern,
dismissal
and comfortable silences.
In a world where we're begging for company,
I'd rather be the only one who thinks you're
a lone star in the city's night sky,
a leaf in my old books and new,
sunshine on a windy day in autumn —
sunshine, always.
My eyes may grow old and go blinder
But, love, the light in your eyes must never fade.
There is so much universe inside you —
my universe —
and I struggle to keep up with everything that you are and everything I made you in my head.
You're my fantasy,
mine to make true.
It's probably why they say love is akin to madness.
You're not too far from delusion
or too close to reality
at any point of time,
till you crash and burn.
The light in your eyes still burns
and I burn along with it.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 3:12 PM UTC
Let me be your ego trip
and you can be my ego boost
Something so simple
Don't be afraid
and don't you dare be confused
You can use me,
and I'll use you
We can fold each other to stay blind from the truth
Because I don't care if it's wrong or right
I just don't want to be alone tonight
So come on, say yes
and don't over-think
Let's get together
We'll have some drinks
And I sure as **** won't regret it
Just so long as I can sleep
Because the last thing that I need
Is another girl to haunt my dreams
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 8:10 PM UTC
What was is like before I fell
Before I ended up in this hell
I don't remember I was only eight
When I got shoved into this fate
Left with feelings of self hate
Human monsters brought me to this gate
The hands of time
They did unwind
It didn't treat me very kind
It brought more monsters and called them mine
Now I'm spinning out of control
Waves of sorrow over me roll
Never knowing which way to go
Should I follow the big black crow
It would lead me to the grave
You know that is what I crave
There's not much of me to save
For what wasn't stole from me, I gave
Or should I stay in this frozen field
Frozen solid left to deal
Trying to heal what can't be healed
Blinded by my fate, is it sealed
Will any of my tomorrows be kinder
Oh will I grow blinder
By the bites of more sidewinders
Or will I just be thrown into the grinder
I remember mud pies
Chasing fireflies
Lazy summer bike rides
Loved ones that never died
What happened to those things I had before I fell
Before I ended up in this Hell
Can anybody say,can anybody tell
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 11:12 AM UTC
From unkown we reached here
To unkown we will go
Living just to watch and hear
Till it's become like a kind of law !
Successful in narrating our history to our children
What history could do if we kept our heads buried in the sand ?!
Registering events " where and when "
" with you we'll thrive " , how to be a climber without hands ?!
" For the future , work today "
But it's like telling a blinder :
" walk alone along the way ! "
Years passed and days come
Yet, we underestimate the significance of time
We weren't born to live as dumps
But to work our minds to reach the prime !
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 7:16 AM UTC
Sorry you hate me so much.
Sorry I can't help but throw words of advice at you,
but you are so sad,
and you had brought me down in the months I've known you,
and it's such a habit to bring you back up instead of bringing myself up.
Sorry she tore your heart out of your chest,
and you can't help but keep ripping up the pieces,
but don't you see she's not even remotely close to being "worth it"?
Sorry I made you talk to me again,
after I told you stop,
but you made the promise that you wouldn't leave,
although how many times has that promise been made?
Sorry I want to find you,
and scream at you to make you understand
that no girl will ever understand you,
like I understood you,
when I stayed all night with you the night I came home after a long trip,
and all we did was talk about the stars,
and I saved your life for what seemed like the millionth time.
But I'm even more sorry for not even wanting you,
and for you not wanting me,
and for you being blinder than ever,
because you depend on others to be your happiness,
and aren't you aware that's the most self destructive thing you can put on yourself?
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
My own worst enemy is residing inside my rib cage
She fights and tears at the flesh to escape her prison
Throbbing and pounding blocks out all sound from the outside world
With every social encounter a blinder is applied to all negative
She blinds the brain and takes over all senses of the body
Desperately searching for kindness and acceptance in the face of evil
She can transform the most gruesome, slithering, conniving demon into an angel of mercy
Her gift is her never ending curse
She plunges recklessly into the shallow waters, drowning, waiting for a savior to provide her breathe
A ravenous ache settles deep with in her soul
The objective of her existence is to locate devotion of another
Regardless of how many times she is trampled to the ground in the process
A gluten for her own punishment
Continuing to open the wound and pour salt in it, as soon as any sign of healing has occurred.
Forever seeking solace in another is her affliction
Fabricating false hope in each new encounter
Composing the tragedy of her own demise
Analyzing every flaw, every imperfection
Tormenting herself over and over
Until her body is rendered motionless
Numbness sets in
Allowed to reside for a stint
Until she is entrapped by another devil
Doomed to continue this cycle
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
I'd paint you a picture
But my image I may not convert
I'd write you a song
But my words can not be learnt
I'd clasp to your words
But they slide away like sand
I'd fall into your hands
But they move away, just a tad
For you and me
Will never quite see
What it is in each other
What we want to be
We're both in a trap
Like the rest of our friends
We need to break free
But only in the end
It's really not hard to see
Once you look at it simplistically
We're all in a trap
Encaged by this world
A sense of self
The impairment of our sight
Is our real plight
What we call "I"
We should really call "us"
It's the blinder to our lives
The captor of our freedom
The separation of each other
Is what makes society shudder
But fear not, dear
It's not but an outgrown husk
At the end of your life
At the end of our years
When unity reappears
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 9:22 PM UTC
I search my scattered brain
To find the devil
That crawls inside of me,
Each time I see your eyes
This creature of my habits
Wraps itself around my eyes,
Laving me blinder than any of these three mice
That scavenge for food
In the humid swamps of self esteem.
I scare myself.
Why do i keeping seeing this walls
With thick black oils,
Making everything feel colder,
wrapping around my future,
I couldn't see through it
Until I forced my hand
And set my world on fire.
All of the ashes have been swept way
Leaving this frost around the amusement park
Of my sad sad heart
Wishing that the only smile
To shine through the crowds
Would not pass me by.
Yet the light draws itself away,
Leaving me with an empty view.
Watching life pass me by
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
You recognize love after the fact
You did what you did and that was that
Don't say words that you don't mean
When I'm gone, please speak well of me
Looking back now
I only wish I had been kinder
Did I ever know love, did I ever know love?
And could I have been blinder?
Don't hold back all your love for someday, for someday
I would say that I'm sorry if it would do any good
But to never regret means you have to forget
and I don't think that I could
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 3:23 AM UTC
You Keep me blinder and blinder with your love,
With your light,
Making me feel that I worth something in this world,
For the world we work'nd fight until we realise the world doesn't give a **** about what we do,
Blinder and blinder about what you really do,
For me, for our future,
For your Kind...
Yes, my heart used to be true...
We fought together and alone for the world
But
The world doesn't give a **** about what we did or wanted to do.
The world doesn't give a **** about what you need, about what we did or didn't do...
To think that we all fought
(together and alone)
And for what?
Apr 26, 2021
Apr 26, 2021 at 2:43 AM UTC
Everything is so cruelly clear in old age.
That guy that said “the blinder I get, the more I can see” was right.
Why not before it?
Why not earlier in life so we could do good things on the same page?
It was there when we were young, but we didn’t see it.
Lifes opportunities lost in the youth of night
What a crock of ****
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 5:20 PM UTC
He played a blinder,
left her standing in the pouring rain,
He played it straight,
straight out of a well thumbed book,
He played the fool,
fool always rhymed with cool,
He played into her arms,
arms now cold from the chill of night,
He played it red,
red for the colour of her bed,
He played like he cared,
cared for the notes crumpled in his pocket,
He played his cards,
cards that made her tear her soul,
He plays a song
a song for her departure from this world.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 2:02 PM UTC