"blindness" poems
I am not required to love you.
Let's get that straight.
Neither man nor woman
Is obligated to profess
And show their undying love for you,
Just as the sun doesn't revolve around the world,
The world doesn't revolve around you.
A series of acts showing your "kindness"
Is not a contract for a relationship.
The very fact that you have to shout
How you are a "nice guy"
Shows how you aren't;
Kindness doesn't need reassurance.
To be frank,
This whole delusion
Is getting a bit out of hand
(see: the ****** Killer",
a guy so sexually frustated
He killed people
for not giving him the right to get laid).
Maybe, hear me out here guys,
it's not because girls only look for "bad guys".
Maybe we look for soulmates,
Not Good Samaritans with hidden agendas.
This may come off as a shock for some of you,
But all-around goodness isn't equal
to treating girls nicely
Only because you might have a chance.
So if your mating dance
Consists of acting like you're an angel And simultaneously complaining
About the blindness
And insolence of women,
It's high time you should stop.
Put down the fedora while you're at it.
It's become a symbol for gentlemen for you,
But now it's a warning sign for us: "Beware the self-entitling guy!"
Honestly, we cringe every single time.
And darling,
Nice guys always finish last
because they whine
Instead of running.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC
Whirlpool of whirling quaint
Inequality brewing in the
Winepress of smithereens
Fragile polity.
Voices of weariness cried
Out from the wasteyard of
Waste for succour,
Pointing fingers of
Recrimination towards
The abyss of drouth ,
Entangled in conflicts
Of interest.
Winds of improvised emblem
Bearing hunchback of
Woes,
Raising hands from the
Drowning deep sea
For rescue like
A dejected beautiful
Vigaro in a
Turbulent ocean of quarrel
With her spouse.
Whereas reddish fluids of life
Runs across the same veins
And arteries of haves
And haves-not but
Cottage of interests
Hoisting avalanche of
Rainbow-coloured flags
Standing aloof on the
Pole of misrule,
Demarcating their interests.
No accommodation for wants
In the corridor of affluence.
Wants on a trade mission
With wealthy but caged in
The confinement of wealth.
Winds of inequality blew
Whirler of wants into
The marrow of the
Haves-not.
Rains of inequality passing
Through a lockage of lack
Into the improvised,
Doling-out poverty to
Gain the control of
Wealth.
Alas! Blindness sees inner
Vision of darkness from
The households of political
lamia.
Alas! Deafness hears
Discordant vague voices
Of failure from the forest
of frustration.
Alas! Dumbness speaks
Language of gnomes out
Of the vale of forgotten
treasures.
Alas! A four year tenancy
turning into decades
of challenges.
But we shall revive our hope
and raise our voices
tomorrow.
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 8:19 AM UTC
A pair of lily white wings
dangling in the dappled moonlight esprit;
hang entangled as silken spider web
draped in the sweet Magnolia tree
From beneath there was no way of knowing
why a pair of abandoned wings lodge mislaid
One could not help but wonder how high
one might fly with cherub wings
But these callused feet tread far below the treetops
too high up from roots to climb
No telltale tiptoe prints cavort to be the talebearer
No feathered traces scattered all around
A hearken say, tickle-footed as a ladybug,
hold forth in a breeze brushed ear
Not completely undoubtable heed spoken;
a language bestow from another ether
softly breathe a whisper'd sigh:
"Behold the wings of a fallen angel;
uplifted by love's amazing grace
Lost alone in a moonstruck blindness
an angel flying too close
to the ground
~
Jesse
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 3:05 PM UTC
The wrath inside you boils from your rage;
your anger elevates to drown your sense.
My blindness has deluded me as sage,
serene and irreproachably intense.
It’s likely that my passive nature’s pushing
my little brother, you, – who hates that term –
straight to hear discordant, silent ringing
as wrath’s contorted demon crisply worms
into your weakened ear to fill your mind
with bubbles, red, and bursting sound, and DARK –
which spread like darkened dust-storms into mine.
That ready wrath, red and quick to spark
burns best those minds invulnerable to sin –
such smug-singed souls sink – slaves to self-delusion.
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 1:08 AM UTC
Loves shadows and hates fire
Whisper softly my hearts desire
To a cold dead moon
As the old demons howl
The ground in terror will tremble and shake
A bloodless murderers hand
Into my steaming cauldron is thrown
Long toothed Blue bats wing from northern caves
Mixed with enchanted grave dust stolen from the fairy land
Out of my blue colored feather covered bag
A tiny sticky yellow red eyed frog
One shiny two horned pinching beetle
That will bite no more
Into the ***
Three long gray hairs from a rabid dog
I sing the song humans fear
The notes fall upon frightened ears
My words travel deadly and silently
A venomous arrow into the night
Laying upon my victim
A fine coverlet of blindness
By spell removing their sight
Loves shadows and hates fire
Whisper softly my hearts desire
To a cold black dead moon
As the old demons howl
The ground in terror will tremble and shake
Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby September 9, 2015.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC
The most important things in life are often those we have to choose from at critical times. They very often represent and determine the course our life will take and to what extent we have in controlling or shaping it. With whatever choice we make, opportunities arise and by making the most of these we realise the relative benefits to be gained or otherwise. Through our committment and willingness to achieve a goal, irrespective of what obstacles there may be or we come across, we move forward and progress is made in our endeavour. If the goal is something we have set our mind and heart on whatever setbacks or obstacles are encountered should then be taken to be the hurdles to overcome.
By repeated experience we learn the necessary disciplines with which to train or involve our mind and body to reach our goal. When we recognise and forego or sacrifice certain habits that are not conducive to our overall progress we release more energy by which to accomplish our end. By sustained right effort we put in motion the train of events that will bring about the right results, but we should not be too attached to the fruits thereof. Too much attachment is a cause of blindness, disappointment and suffering. However with the right mental attitudes including positive thinking and actions we should learn from and leave behind past failures by always striving onwards to our desired objective or set goal.
The best way to achieve this end is to include in some way the benefit and good of all those concerned whether they be friend or otherwise which will not be easy but will exhibit a spirit of high ethical standards and character and contribute to endearing oneself to others.
_______________________________________________________________
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 4:28 PM UTC
In 2005 The Piano Man was found wandering the streets of Sheerness in a soaking wet suit and tie
he didn't say a word.
When presented with pad and pen he simply drew a grand piano.
His nurses sat him in front of a beat up old upright
he played for four hours straight;
for four months his hands were the only things to break his silence.
Alexandre Dumas said "man will never be perfect until he learns to create and destroy."
Do you ever think about how Beethoven hacked the legs off his piano so he could feel the sounds he couldn't hear in his head, through his chest?
And Van Gogh heard the sounds his paintings made but kept going until his sanity
was just a memory floating on a distant river under a tired Milky Way.
And you see, like a Gaelic folk song blindness runs red through my family,
so I know it's not much but I'm here, still trying to mould my hands to say the right form of 'I love you'.
And did you know that the human heart beats over 30 million times a year, but we still have a hard time keeping our feet on the ground?
And did you know that the act of breaking in a horse is actually the act of breaking it's back?
Like we can't sit without sitting on broken things.
And did you know that every time a mobile phone sends out a GPS signal a bee loses it's way home, and every bee that doesn't reach it's hive dies?
So on nights when your pulse matches the beat of my favourite song
you don't have to wonder if it's me matching the syncopation of your silence --
and I wonder if you ever found what you were looking for.
And I wonder if you realise that on days you're not here I roll up my sleeves,
count the beats without you,
sit on the backseat and miss you.
And somewhere The Piano Man rolls up his sleeves
creates the Big Bang under his fingertips.
And in 2005 on an April morning in Sheerness, a suited piano man walks straight into the ocean,
begs the current to take him.
I send you a message
a bee loses it's way home.
I send you another
another bee dies.
My chest cavity is a bumble bee crypt,
my tongue a honeyed graveyard.
Another message.
The Big Bang.
The hive.
A suit.
That ocean.
Another back is broken.
Another message is sent.
I fear I am more honeycomb than heart.
To create is to destroy. To destroy is to succeed.
And would you just look at what these piano hands have finally done.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 1:28 PM UTC
We humans have
Lots of silly excuses
All the time
From dusk to dawn
And in all seasons
Whether spring or autumn
And if winter or summer
We always complain for
What we don’t have
Lacking this and that
And so on..
But we never
Count our blessings
Our mind
With no retardation
Our eyes
With no blindness
Our ears
With no deafness
Our tongue
With no dumbness
And our body
With no disability at all
Even though
Most of us
Believe that
We are not talented
And lack so many skills
But we never think
How a disabled person
Got so many vibrant calibers
Some can write
With legs
Some can dance
With one leg
Some can swim
With no legs and arms
Some can paint
With no vision
And all that
Mind blowing talents
With such disabilities
Is something
To learn about
But have we
Ever thought
Why can’t
We have that abilities
And the reason is
We don’t have an urge
To do anything
We have lots of facilities
Around us
And thus we don’t need
To sharp our brains
We live in pleasures
Like in a full swing
And thus
We don’t know
The pain of a
Handicapped
The darkness
Of a blind
The communication barrier
Of a dumb
The hearing impairments
Of a deaf
The financial constraints
Of a poor
And the loneliness
Of an orphan
We humans
Born as ordinary
And thus
No need to think
As extraordinary
We mostly learn from
Our mistakes
And so about the
Urge for it
When we get
A sincere urge
It results to a
Turning point in life
So why can’t we
Challenge our disability
And make it an ability
Let’s rebound our abilities
To make it a miracle
And enjoy the worthiness of
This graceful life
Nov 17, 2019
Nov 17, 2019 at 5:36 PM UTC
"Everyone wants happiness. No one wants pain. But you can't have a rainbow without a little rain."
Spread your wings and let's fly,
Can't reach those dreams it is so high,
What to do know?,
Let's smile and end this pain together.
We are each one's cause of euphoria,
Smile like there's no tomorrow,
Why are you full of sorrow?,
Why sudden change of emotions?,
Are you not happy?.
Look at the sky,
Don't be shy,
I know you've been waiting for it,
Don't always look on the ground,
You're not too low to look on it,
Feel free to look high,
And exprience the feeling of being on the top.
Imagine the things that you want that others can't imagine to you,
Your life doesn't depend on them,
It depends on you,
You are the only one who can decide,
Your life doesn't belong to them.
If it rains,
Accept it,
Don't blame the weather,
Don't blame yourself,
It's not your fault,
You just don't know on how to love yourself.
All of this are connected,
Don't ask and you'll be headed,
It is not time for your assumptions,
Why predict someone else's life if you can't even predict your own life.
Shut up and enjoy your life,
Have fun tonight,
Coz the next day what if there would be no more light to be seen,
Sun that brighten up your day,
Darkness that guided your life,
Who are you?
Sentences that are out of context,
What will happen next,
Shadows that are getting even more darker.
Coz there's a light,
A beaming spotlight.
Be the person you want to be,
Shout and tell them let me be,
Freed yourself from sadness,
Let go of your blindness,
And then there's happiness.
Don't pretend that you're okay,
Coz you'll end up hating yourself over
and over again,
Life is about up's and down,
Deal with it and tell the future that
you're going to be fine and pass all of this failure you've done this present.
Sunshine comes to
all who feel rain,
Rainbow can't show up
if there's no little rain,
Learn to stand up,
and you'll be okay.
Don't be pushed by your problems;
be led by your dreams.
Dec 10, 2018
Dec 10, 2018 at 8:36 AM UTC
Do you see me, staring, holding my heart in my outstretched hands?
Do you hear me, whispering, voicing my feelings into your covered ears?
Do you feel me, grazing, brushing my fingertips across your fist?
Do you realize that I'm falling, whirling, tumbling head over heals, or are you immune to love's blindness?
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 6:52 AM UTC
There is a hole in the world
All the doors are painted
a shade of liars faces
their colors while arriving
are also fading
but we are still here..
Where corroding slats of
63 year old wood
sound like the screams
echoing across
the crumbling pages of days
burnt yellow beneath the
fire of eyes
The purple pouring through unseen waves in the dusk sky as Janis joplin sang gray star clouds
into my heart
she sewed my wounds
with the ash of
of bodies adrift of lovers
living only in the mirage
air disguised
as smiles everlasting
glass of the
empty kind of love that lies,
and never breathes
yet forever dies
dreams devour you with
tears remembering the terror
in Janis's eyes,
she poured herself out
across the floor of the perishing world
while performing
"work me lord"
"live at stockholm 69'"
to the dark,
we were never there
we were born
into hands that were dying
we breathed our last breath of freedom-
then we were born,
It was then that
I heard the darkness cry.
we are dying..
because we have forgotten
the free gift given,
our lightless bones
loose around the spine
of every bolt we never knew,
strengthened our stance against
the murderous long night.
Choosing blindness,
over looking without sight,
The invisible mountain,
that breathed in our corroding
dusty hearts,
weilding love
against the demons behind
our mirror eyes..
Refusing to call his name..
we have lived for each one of us
just for ourselves ("selflove")
so it is this then,
we have sold
our freedom
to the lie
named death.
Apr 18, 2020
Apr 18, 2020 at 2:42 AM UTC
She said
you are enough. you are loved.
You are
So much of what you fear can
Never be.
She said
There are no mirrors I can
Hold up
For perception once skewed see all
mirrors spotted
Your eyes.
So fickle and short sighted
That you
Can’t see what lays before you
Or just beyond.
A blindness
To all that is beautiful.
You **** hope
Before it may give you
Another chance.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 9:24 PM UTC
Moons fall,
Eggshell snow,
Blurred illumination,
Dreary lights,
Twinkles disintegrate,
Blazed sparks fade,
Faint complexion,
Awkward tree,
Ornament shadows,
Fuses burn out,
Connection lost,
Spirit dies out,
Yuletide lie,
Imperfection.
My eyes are dark as Halloween night.
Suns shine,
White angel,
Luminous site,
Multicolored pigments,
Rosy cheeks glow,
Rays seep through,
Vivid hue,
Elegant she,
Majestic gleams,
Beams strike around,
Fascination found,
Neon dyes around,
Joyful cry,
Pulchritude.
Her eyes are bright as Christmas morning.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 3:13 AM UTC
Innocence scrawled on a blindfold,
"Unfair" whispered from within.
Two subjective perceptions of the objective;
Two dreams disguised as reality.
Eyes glazed over with self assurance
you're wrong, you're wrong, you're wrong.
and now I'm sorry.
Excuses emerge from hidden willful blindness,
Searching for the core - where misunderstanding sits;
Two mouths moving, saying nothing.
Four eyes staring at the same painting, seeing different things.
Two hearts so submerged in cement that they've forgotten to beat.
The poisonous fog clears and drips onto our worlds melting all that we've built, but instead of taking everything, it's waken us up.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 9:50 PM UTC
Gather in a dark night, impurities of the mind caused by poisonous emotions from loss and envy, of spite or jealousy, forming misery.
Love fades, ahh once so innocently precious, yet fragile in structure,
Leaving the servants of it in great despair and even darker hate,
Where affection ruled supreme once the scars of misery are causing a heartache from leftover rampage, a riot now presented. Ah, phantoms
Swaying back and forth between sadness and anger one gets lost in his own blindness, destroying and bringing himself into ruins,
This lingering sadness seems eternal as time passes painfully slower,
An enlighting realisation should do the task and let the soul lost inanihilating, irritational despair grow once again strong and happy,
A spark illuminating the dark, with patience and hope for the future,
But until this event is taking place, a personal hell is what has to be crossed alike a bridge made of anxiety, depression and self doubt.
But worry not all you lost souls who are waiting for light!
After all, every winter and every night find their end and ensure the dawn of a blooming spring dream.
~ Umi
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 6:25 PM UTC
Betwixt an atmosphere of a holy nature
By a classic serenade of Christian lullabies
Unceremoniously my body sways to the beat
For every moment that elapses
More and more I become electrified
As in the wake of your presence
A song of budding amour is evoked
Try I may to suppress this sensation,
Though upon a lie I'd asphyxiate
Please do not allow me to suffer
To languish within a plethora of
A sheer and utter coating of blindness
Darling forgive me if I impose
I avidly seek for signs of proof
To know if this is real
What would happen?
© 2011 (All rights reserved)
Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 7:04 PM UTC
once more
layers of casing
are torn
papers culled
windows gleam
sheets smile
the cost is high
if not see
when to stop
can I find north
after all
I’d asked
so life’s paths
once veiled
in yesterday's grime
dispatched
to the winds
reveal
another vision
refreshing as
spring rain
seeking every fissure
quietly lodged boarders
not paying rent
evicted
as another corner
begs mastery
along with
a neater place
it dawns on me
atrophy
is the order
of things
vacate for a few
short paces
and face
it all again
wrenching me
from the lulling
status quo
of my stilted
blindness
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 6:49 AM UTC
Sometimes- sometimes there are people that come into our lives who have us thinking that they're both the moon and the sun. We believe they must be part of some greater light that has the ability to fill those dark cracks in our hearts- our very beings, blinding us with their glory... But they aren't.
Actually, they're were just dust that got swept into our eyes, making everything blurry and more difficult to see. Causing our blindness. And, all that time, they were really just filling our cracks with cobwebs.
So, darling, let them go.
You don't need them to fill the vacancy anymore.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
Blindness haunts the king who seeks
In vain do riches question
- but-
A beggar with a poor man's coat
Receives the greatest wisdom.
We, of sound and sturdy mind
Sniff rich bouquets of vanity
-but-
Fine wine is pressed by she who raves
Her hems stained with insanity.
Old men would have learn'd much
Had they been thus styl'd
-and-
There are no wiser phrases brought
Than those of a child.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 1:56 PM UTC
I’m going to be honest,
I’m not a love poet
But if I was to wake up tomorrow morning
And decide that I really wanted to write about love
I swear that my first poem…
It would be about you
About how I loved you the same way
That I learned to ride a bike:
Scared
But reckless
With no training wheels or elbow pads
So my scars can tell you the story of how I fell for you
~Rudy Francisco
I’m not Rudy Francisco
But every man has his own words
So if I was a love poet
God knows I would still write about you
But I would write about how
That smile of yours might only last a moment
But I'll do everything I can to make it last a lifetime
And then... I will make sure it lasts an eternity
If I was a love poet
I would tell you how
You make all of my days
So I'll make it my duty to make all your tomorrows
I would tell you
That the sun rises each and every morning
Because it wants to see you
Because as bright as the sun is
It is blinded by your light
And you make me want to see
What blindness is really like
So I can look at you for the
Short moment before I lose my sight
Because then
Your image will always be with me
However, If I really cared
I would tell you
You’re better off alone
Than with me
Because I know
I know I’ll hurt you
And I can’t bare the thought of that
I would tell you
I’m not enough
And I never will be
Because enough isn’t in me
If I really cared
I would tell you
Nothing
Because I don’t deserve the chance to speak to you
However to tell you any of this
You would have to be real
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 7:25 PM UTC
Ignorance is bliss
They say
who are they?
The ones sick
struck with blindness
Open up your eyes and see
pry open the lids refusing
Peer into the depths
& you will find
The very knowledge of God.
http://mystery-babylon.org/easter.html
https://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20070406165106AAErzIc
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 5:34 PM UTC
I observe the current of clamour from the far corner, over there
wishing I would blend with the limp air
And soak into the absence far away.
So, don’t ask me why
It’s in my nature to be shy
Just leave these flawed bones to decay...
even so, I didn’t ask for your kindness
It’s just an act muffled with blindness
I know it could never be true.
I have learnt not to trust those who are nice to me
Eventually they will push me away, out to sea
waiting for the waves to break through.
Yet my body tingles with this burdensome feeling
This sensation blooming inside is unappealing...
all I can do is blame it on you.
Blame it on the way you walk
Or the way you stumble when you talk
Or the way your hair sits on your forehead.
Blame it on the way you smile with your eyes
Or the way you stare up into the skies
Or the way your ears can turn bright red.
But by all else above,
Blame it on the way you made me fall in love.
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 10:23 AM UTC
A handy Mole who plied no shovel
To excavate his vaulted hovel,
While hard at work met in mid-furrow
An Earthworm boring out his burrow.
Our Mole had dined and must grow thinner
Before he gulped a second dinner,
And on no other terms cared he
To meet a worm of low degree.
The Mole turned on his blindest eye
Passing that base mechanic by;
The Worm entrenched in actual blindness
Ignored or kindness or unkindness;
Each wrought his own exclusive tunnel
To reach his own exclusive funnel.
A plough its flawless track pursuing
Involved them in one common ruin.
Where now the mine and countermine,
The dined-on and the one to dine?
The impartial ploughshare of extinction
Annulled them all without distinction.
5k
Before you get lost in the unfinished maps of her veins
the ones like yours, but not stitched up too many times to count on the ticks of a clock,
make sure that she trusts you enough to tell the truth.
Make sure that she loves you enough to know how you lie.
Remember that every single time you open your mouth, she's wishing
you're saying I love you.
Remember that on Fridays she doesn't want to cook.
And she sure doesn't want you to cook anything that was slaughtered.
Remember that she prefers cheap whiskey over champagne.
And when you're opening your ribcage to show her how fast your heart beats
when she grabs your wrists, make sure the butterflies are set free.
Make sure they find the window.
Make sure they find a home.
Remember that every living creature is just that, living.
Remember that they have a heartbeat.
And when you stop breathing when you see her with her hair down,
when you're thinking about starting a religion about girls with flowers for eyes,
tell her she's beautiful.
Tell her she's so full of the future.
Get her a telescope so you can show her the moon when it's bigger than both your thumbs.
Take her skiing while it's Summer in Australia even though you curse the snow as if it
were born out of wedlock.
Let her know she's not the first but she's definitely the only, and you're so scared of dying.
You never know what you have until it's locked firmly in your grasp as if to not let it run away.
You might lose a lot of blood but you'll never lose your way home.
I don't want to hear the dial tone.
I want to hear your voice, I want to hear you scream. Tell me to leave.
Tell me that I am the only road that leads you to a purpose.
That in a world of blindness I am so technicolour.
Even though I can't promise you that, I can give you my words, thrusted from my lungs
like wildfire.
Searching for the way out.
Talk to me about religion, please please convince me that there is something out there other than
rotting in the ground for all of eternity.
Bible scripture doesn't whisper of your lips like my pillows do.
I never really thought about pillow talk until they started speaking me to sleep.
I find myself found by the curvature of your spine, of the shadows that take up residence on your shoulders like they have lived there all along.
I want to kiss away every bit of pain that has ever stopped you from smiling at strangers
and let you know that I'm coming home and I will always find your hands.
Let your ribs shake when your heart has had enough.
Let them shake.
Let the rain come through your window while you're sitting there in your makeshift darkroom.
You are the only thing I know about consistency.
And before I get lost in the unfinished maps of your veins,
I will be making sure they lead to me.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 6:42 PM UTC