"bulletproof" poems
A loaded gun behind the perfect shot,
infiltrates my mind with memories I forgot.
Pills and potions couldn't help ease the pain,
the man with the mask I can no longer keep sane.
And in the bleeding sky I saw,
scars I've encountered once before.
The depth is scary, but I can't look away,
I dive and drown in this red ocean every day.
I close my eyes and hum a song,
trying to outshout the things I've done wrong.
It's a suicide mission to try and win this fight,
so I'll just get lost with the strangers of the night.
On the gleaming tracks I run with no goal,
it's just an endless journey within a distant black hole.
I'm just a fraction of something that could've been great,
but, I know it's too late to change my bulletproof fate.
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 2:44 PM UTC
In Spanish, VIVIR means To Live, the proper conjugation of which to when you say something as improper as “I live” would simply be translated to “Yo Vivo”.
I live, as a Colombian-American.
I live, as “You don’t look Hispanic”
I live, “Woah! You and your brother look nothing alike. You’re so… white.”
I live, “My mom came home once and talked about a man who simply replied with a horribly pronounced “Me gusta” when my mom said she was Hispanic.”
I live, “My dad condones abusive behavior because he thinks Latina aggression is ****
I live, my mom asking me “Would you rather celebrate the Sweet Sixteen or have a quinceanera party?”
I live, as the white boy sitting across the room in Spanish class asking “When will I need this in real life?”
I live, as the “Yes I DO have a friend with a skin complexion similar to mine, and yes, he is Hispanic.”
I live, most of my friends are beautiful people of color.
I live, when will you open up the tab in Google and search some Hispanic History to fill your mind instead of “Latina ****
I live, the messages on the Internet saying “You’re Hispanic? I bet you’re great in bed.”
I live, there are NO gender neutral nouns in Spanish
I live, yes I DO love coffee
I live, no it did NOT stunt my growth
I live, one kiss per cheek at family meet-ups
I live, “Eskimo” nose rubs
I live, "if you’re hispanic, why aren’t your ears pierced?"
I live, being expected to remember Spanish just because it was my first language, but growing up with an American dad made me whiter than fresh bed-sheets sold in America, made in South America, Hecha en Peru.
I live, my mom breaking into tears as she is so proud that I can sing in Spanish
I live, my mom used to be so embarrassed, when I replied “un poco” to her friends asking “Tu Hablas Espanol?”
I live, "if you’re Hispanic, is your mom an Alien?"
I live, "But your dad looks so white!"
I live, being subject to racism hidden in a joke, hidden in a remark about how pale I am, hidden behind a judgmental look, hidden behind a scoff, a laugh, a pity shrug, a fetishized assumption.
I live the bulletproof clothing and horrible crimes I am warned about when I say I wanna go to Colombia I wanna go to my mom’s home.
I live, as a Colombian-American.
I live.
Yo vivo.
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC
Everything's alright.
Look around you.
Everyone's been trying
While you barely get by,
And live in your hole alone.
I can't be
There for you.
You were never
There for me.
You paint your
White Roses Red,
And take no prisoners.
It's off with their head.
You say you want me,
But I don't love the dead.
I know you secretly hate
Those White Roses Red.
Blood stains.
Didn't you know?
You should have thought that out
A long time ago.
You want to protect me
From things
That are harmless.
Well,
If you want to protect me
Look in the mirror,
And protect me
From what you see.
I'm not bulletproof, you know.
You may be oblivious
To the scars that you made..
But they show.
You can't go by,
Because to you
Nothing is alright.
But I can't stay
And tell you to fight,
Because I know you.
It will do no good.
You paint your
White Roses Red,
And take no prisoners.
It's off with their head.
You say you want me
But I don't love the dead.
I know you secretly hate
Those White Roses Red.
I won't like you
Until you say
That you were wrong
And wash the red away.
But I won't wait around
Because in truth I know
That I would have to wait
Until my dying day.
Just wash the red away
Until it doesn't show.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 12:55 PM UTC
Insecurity is wool blanket drenched in water
laying across my nose and mouth,
every breath i take in is a wicked reminder of everything i am not.
its sharp needle points prodding my pores
ripping apart the skin of my throat with every word i'm unable to speak.
Insecurity is facing a firing squad,
every bullet comes from the mouth, every tongue a trigger, every tooth ammunition
Your feet are nailed to the ground, an iron staple of your own making lacing through your toes.
The worst thing about it is that your hands are bulletproof shields,
and if you had the strength to raise your thousand pound arms,
you could use them to block your bruised up brain.
But you can't.
So you don't.
its being uncomfortable in your own skin, a bone shattering, helpless feeling that you
cannot change this.
no amount of compliments or beautiful words whispered in the darkness can fix it
insecurity is the building blocks of my personality,
I'm constantly tailoring everyone in my life to fit it, like a worn dress
I can't walk down the hallway, down the street, through a store
without the feeling of a thousand weighty words cutting into my skin
In every war my mind wages against my body
i stand there like marble, letting the bullets eat me alive.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
I Craw in the Urban Jungle night after night, making shadows my best friend
Because my pale skin would get sunburn in the day time.
Many of you have read about me on the internet,
But don't know if we exist like the Yeti or Bigfoot
Every now and then you see photos of me and hear stories about our existence
But here I am, White, Nerdy and…. Nerdy
Nerdy like the Nerds falling out of the box and skipping on the floor of my lair
(or my parents basement whatever you call it).
Some moments you will find me praying to my shrine for my savior, Weird Al Yankovic
Many of you may call us “ Losers”
But let me take a moment to tell you why you are wrong, in every way.
First off, We are not losers we just win at things that you don't care about
Like the Rubik's Cube, Dungeon and Dragons, and Larping
We don’t care about making friends, getting the poo tang, or getting high off of our *****
No we are too occupied trying to plan how we will survive the zombie apocalypse,
Or debating on if Star Wars is better than Star Track.
We are too busy reading comic books, Leveling up our one handedness
On Skyrim of course.
You think that we are hideous,
But in all reality, my acne improves my defenses against mother nature,
My braces are actually tools that government uses so they can reflect solar flares back to space
I'm ugly because god decided to make me pick up girls on ******** mode because before you Meet me it was way too easy.
Many of you think that we are weak
I may have spaghetti arms, no abs, but you know what, no problem,
Because if you look at my shadow, you see someone that 10 feet tall and bulletproof
I am a nerd, hear me roar.
My roar breaks your paper thin confidence
As it just floats in the wind like leaves, leaving the tree in October
My roar will rock your house with all of your friends leaving you alone because in the end, you May be popular but lets be honest, who are your real friends?
Call me weak, I dare you
Being a nerd has taught me many things
Like don't eat cake because it is deceiving
And that Neo should of taken the blue pill
Because that movie series was terrible.
And that DC Comics is the best, ***** Marvel
But the one thing it taught me the most is that be proud of myself.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
I am alive by luck at this point.
I wonder if the gun that will eventually take me has been made.
Whose trigger will bury me.
How many bullets, like a flock of sparrows, will come carry my life to its final bed.
Today, I am alive but there is no law to thank.
If not me, then someone else.
Born into a game of chance we never asked for. Traded diplomas for obituaries. Traded graduation speeches for eulogies. Traded futures for an early grave. Forced to cash in their chips. We don’t want to play anymore.
And this too is eulogy. And this too is prayer. And this too can resurrect the coffin wood back to a tree. Can sing back alive whatever parts of you died with them. Whatever leapt in your throat at yet another headline.
Mourning until you, too, are a thing to mourn.
But we will no longer be martyrs.
We are the rude awakening to politicians who pawned out our safety, who bartered our lives for bribes.
You say “gun reform is not the answer” but all I can see is a bullet rattling like a pinball in an innocent student’s jaw.
You smell like gun smoke and
I can see the AR15 you're holding behind your back and
I guess it's easy to crack jokes about dodging bullets when you're the one firing them.
Give teachers books not bullets:
Kafka isn’t kevlar.
Bronte isn’t bulletproof.
And how sick is it that we must add school shootings to your list of proud american traditions.
Throwing opinions like punches.
How many more have to die before you decide your ego isn’t as important as you think it is?
And I, too, am buried alive
My soggy grave parting its greedy lips.
To you, my bones, when ground into gunpowder and mixed into water, taste like champagne.
My pulse, as thin as an obituary panting beneath sweaty palms, and sure
We are “just kids,”
But you are forgetting we are the next generation
And you autopsy your fists.
Call it reclamatory.
Lately, when asked “how are you?” I respond with a name no longer living.
And who knows if mine will be next
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 10:32 PM UTC
Thank you for breaking me
And making me
A better me
Thank you for hurting me
And making me
A stronger me
Thank you for shooting me
And making me
Bulletproof
Thank you for burning me
And making me
Fireproof
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
In a time,
when men were the superheroes,
born in an unconventional location,
a young girl, unknown to the future
she was destined to,
was born with a uniqueness
unfound in all people, a superpower
of empathy
and as she grew,
the world knew
she was imbued
as a living embodiment of legends:
Athena's wisdom,
beauty that surpassed the goddess Aphrodite,
conversational skills that made Hermes envious,
and strength that Hercules
could never attain.
As she approached an age, when her parents would
trust her to be guardian,
her powers manifested.
This incredible child was now a woman.
With the ability to heal those in need: she could expunge
poison that had afflicted a person,
even their hearts,
a God-given gift for those most sacred;
her correspondences exponentially developed,
able to connect in all languages, fueled by her empathetic nature,
this allowed all who interacted with her to trust her for she radiates sincerity.
Now, fully grown, this super-no-
This Wonder Woman had retired her duties
to save the world, not forsake it, but,
to train Wonder Girl, her daughter,
to unlock the latent abilities her mother had passed on to her.
She still looks up at the Higher Power
and realizes her duty to provide
the world justice is not over
but only beginning.
Her holy spirit was not unacknowledged
and was gifted
a bulletproof bracelet,
forged by the most skilled craftsman by direction
of all that is wise and healing.
Given to her to wear
so that nothing could halt her
as she continues
her fate to provide the world a humanity
that could only come from
an intrinsically true
dear heart.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 12:17 AM UTC
In a class, I'll sit and listen
they'll explain that I have no rights
as a member of the LGBTQ+
they'll say,
with pride of their skin,
black lives DON'T matter-
all lives do.
I'll sit here, OH YES,
I'll sit and listen
they'll talk about girls being ugly
talking about how
there are only two genders
and I'll sit here
relating women to paintings,
weaving them into my poems,
slightly pouting and confused
with my lack of their said gender.
Sighing,
I will sit here and listen
as they repeat the things
I've heard my entire life
and I'll bite my tongue, though not really
a look will pass by, rage seeps through pores
I'll leak liquid anger
until the toxins correct their rotten brains
I know I should say something,
but there are tons of them
and only micro-me.
Weak.
I'll sit here, and I will listen to them as
we all eagerly await the bell
Save us.
we're far apart, so
my mask is off now,
but when it sounds, when it promises peace
RING RING RING
I will stand, turn,
and Black Lives Matter will be almost
as prominent as a tattoo on my face,
the phrase will melt,
it will stick,
it will attach to my mouth
and say
scream
sing
the words that I cannot.
and I'll keep Sydney's hoodie on
as my bulletproof vest,
her chain against my heart
understanding that
THIS IS NOT A CHOICE
Why would I
ever
choose the pain I went through for this?
only to go home,
and hear more from my step-father,
with the victimizing mother actings
as if it never happens
Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 4:31 PM UTC
Taste the sin
Breathe it in
Feeling the sting
Of the poisoning
May the rage
Never fade
May the truth
Be bulletproof
Let it just fall
Simply lose it all
Why try to stay
If you're pushed away
Love the contract
Eternal contact
Such a great lie
You'll want to die
It hurts to be
Giving in totally
To the darkness
You'll be worthless
But it's all necessary
For liberty.
For what is light
With nothing to fight?
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
Perhaps I'm encased in a box
made out of two-way glass.
A biased one-way mirror...
Mutual vision doesn't meet nor pass.
When you look at me,
you only see,
yourself for all that you care...
Me? Just a faint suggestion that I'm even there.
Maybe that's why...
you ask about my life,
about my strife.
When I'm about to unload my
head,
I end up having to hear about yours
instead.
Perhaps at times I travel around
in a bubble of frosted glass.
Only a blurred version of me...
Clumsily ploughing through the mass.
Incoherent, misunderstood and unclear.
Unintelligible muffles of hopes and fear.
Maybe that's why...
My words are just perceived as
playful rhymes.
Never keeping up with the times.
Words regurgitated but no one
realises what's coming undone...
Perhaps what I need
is an armour of bulletproof glass.
One of unique quality...
One ahead of its class.
You can do and say what you want.
A shell that would bear most of the brunt.
*I'll be impervious.
I'll be protected.
I can be indifferent.
I can be jaded.*
Maybe that's all I need...
*A shocking stunt.
A fresh perspective.
A new plan.
Revised objectives.*
Maybe a different name to start all
over...
To tie the binds and thoughts that
scatter...
Hoping of holding everything
together...
Come morning, all will be
forgotten...
Maybe I'd still be beaten.
So for a chance that's,
fat as hell
or
thin just a sliver...
Truth is of the three, I have neither...
So...
what I've said doesn't really matter.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 1:36 PM UTC
Sometimes the words I love you swarm like hornets behind my teeth, a phrase so heavy it only has eight letters just like I lost you.
Sometimes in the pause you take before you speak, I wonder if you’re fighting to keep down the same things as I am; trying to swallow a confession that seems less like a secret and more like stating the obvious.
We were funny, we were bad at holding hands, I hated when a car goes over the tracks, you had this way of making silence the loudest sound in the room when it hit the floor.
I made a home out of your hands just like how many beautiful things go without reciprocation.
We seem to have found fault in being whole, somewhere alone the way, we’ve started enjoying breaking things;
Like my ribs when you’re gone and I want to know if you can tell the difference between the absence of my voice and silence.
You are the only thing I’ve ever let go that makes my hands ache.
I’m still trying to piece together what made you lose your faith in me, was it how everything starts with gritting teeth and everything ends with you walking away? I should’ve known, the way you used to hold my back like you were checking it for exit wounds.
It took me 2 car wrecks and 6 shattered mirrors for me to realize that the world has so much more to say when it is silent;
if I didn’t bruise so easily, if I wasn’t looking for a way to be made of a river, if I needed the silence to mean something, then I would ask you to build me out of quiet revenge and goodbyes that stick in your sides like tree branches, I would need you to build me out of reasons to believe instead of reasons to be afraid, I would turn my kneecaps into strawberries in exchange for potter’s hands so I could mild you a bulletproof spirit.
It was silence and your lighter, I was cold, you were drinking; that was our backbone.
You were alone, I was going too fast because sometimes you don’t have to be in the wrong place to be looking for the wrong thing.
I am afraid and you are warm; this is the beginning of a forest fire filled with broken glass shattering in broken homes with broken people inside on a broken piece of land in a city that has too much rain for someone to build an emergency room in.
I spend nights up until my body can’t handle itself any longer,
mornings have come like a hammer to my head-
instead of my face, all I can see in the mirror is an unfamiliar expression,
something like a dead battery.
All I ever wanted was for you to be my fire, I am tired of these old lives and would like to see them burn.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 3:31 AM UTC
you have the
nerve
to say that women are
squeamish
when we see blood
month after month
you say we are too emotional
to hold office,
too fragile
to be independent,
too unpredictable,
to be on our own
but you forget
we are bulletproof.
you forget
we have stamina
and fire inside of us
because we are fighting
twice as hard
to be recognized
as the amazing,
successful people we are.
we are fighting
to be seen
as more
than our appearance,
to be valuable
because of our brains
instead of our *****
we are bulletproof.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 9:13 PM UTC
This isn't fair!
Don't you try to blame this on me!
my love for you was bulletproof but your the one who shot me!
and god **** it!
i can barely breath
this fricking binder is possibly killing me
but it really helps me look even more like a man
and don't you even know
my name is Cody
and I won't respond to anything else
I'll keep saying that I am male
no matter what you say
I'll scream it at the top of my lungs
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 7:31 AM UTC
I would remember half dunk, half remorseful
that you would hold my hand a certain way
it would stain my heart
that knack you had for holding me so far from you
and then i would have died just for that
touch like a man seeking glory
I would regret in those twilight hours the
times i told you how beautiful you looked
with your ugly heart
and faceless brow and forced smile
and the knack you had for me to willingly
unwind myself
for you to ravel back to-get-her
I would like to think my lips made an
indelible print on your forehead
and tore through your broken mind
thoughts borne and torn through deadly
actions you learnt from other
soldiers
demented from the ache of the heart
I would pray to sleep alone without
the imprint of you echoing around the house
your words like compliments
spat at me like posion darts of deceit
which lay at my door
for it was my fault
you couldn't let it all go
I would take back my sorry's
and my fighters stance
my bulletproof face
that stood in front of your glass house
and watched your life implodel
and i scraped my fingers through the wreckage
in the hope you weren't hurt
I would
I could
I should
I had
I did
I came
I left
I remember
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 4:57 PM UTC
You know how superman is bullet-proof but his one weakness is kryptonite.
Nothing in this world could destroy him except this shiny green rock.
In my head I'm metaphorically bullet proof, I don't break.
Head held high, Heart cold to the core.
I'm scared that one day I'll wake up and realize I'm surrounded by this stupid shiny green rock which is in disguise as your love.
Your love, slowly and patiently, leaving me in ruins.
And I'm getting weaker and weaker everyday, aching for the warmth of your skin.
You know how superman is bulletproof but his one weakness is kryptonite, well I have you as my kryptonite.
With just one look, you leave me breathless, on my knees, begging for more.
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 4:00 PM UTC
Today marks as your 7th year,
We'll never stop to cheer.
BTS plus ARMY consists of seven letters,
BTS has seven members.
We cry and laugh with you.
You made us feel loved and made us accept our flaws.
When we are exhausted, we don't get tired because we have you.
We are continuing to break the walls.
So don't worry about anything,
We'll stay with you forever.
We are together bulletproof.
We Purple you.
Jun 12, 2020
Jun 12, 2020 at 6:28 PM UTC
Tell me
That gun that you're so proud of
Why does it tremble so much?
Is your hand following your unstable mind?
Is that the same hand that holds your child's?
Your emotions
Fragile enough to be crushed with a hug
Insecure enough to attack a compliment
Corrupt enough to endlessly reload on lies and deceit
Are those the same emotions you shoot into your wife at night?
Your bullets roar so loudly
What voices are you trying to drown out?
Your heartbeat clanks at the speed of the fallen shells
What are you so afraid of?
A man armed and ready to go off at any moment like you?
Tell me
What can you manage to defeat?
With those trembling hands
Uncertain of what to take aim at
You shoot down anything that moves
Uncertain of where the trigger is
You pull at anything you can reach
Uncertain of how much enemies are left
You forever stay in the trenches
I now know that when you bow your head at church that it's not for prayer
Then hoping to nullify your senseless you refuse to leave the battlefield
And take no-mans-land everywhere you go
You wear your bulletproof vest and rifle to the supermarkets, schools, offices, dinner tables, churches, and funerals
Forever firing
Forever charging
Forever defending
Forever fighting
Yourself.
Nov 22, 2020
Nov 22, 2020 at 8:28 AM UTC
11/24/2017
Everybody says i dodged a bullet
But the bullet landed
As for the trigger, was it him or me that pulled it?
I thought he helped my heart expand its hard to think i even could with
Both feet braced on solid ground
Our situationship wasnt planned
I know its hard to understand
From the outside its easy to brand me
Can we analyze every time i noticed how masterfully he handled me?
I understand that time is the only poultice
But for a moment Id like to be candid please
The bullet landed and it travelled
It ripped a path through my flesh
Day by day i ate less and less
Let this be as many lessons
As you can manage to pull from this
The side pieces and the rest is all fluff and ********
He put strings on my heart and pulled it
And i danced and said “how high”
And my soul became dull it became harder and harder to wake up every day
Is it ok to say the only redeeming quality is that he never struck me?
But i wanted to escape the pain of being stuck he told me never, ever again to cut
He didnt see that he was the reason i needed release
The Mona Lisa was out of luck
Finally the bullet festered
The pain became so great
And the benefits so much less
The bullet ripped a path
I cut it out and sealed it back
Now the bullet is nothing but waste
And i can find a new way to relate
New tissue to create
It takes talent to close, to suture they say
“Approximate, dont strangulate”
And now the bullet is disposed
So they say i dodged a bullet
But the bullet landed
It ripped a path through my flesh
Til i became so much less
And the wound began to fester
So i cut out the bullet and cleaned up the rest
Now i have a scar to show the truth
The bullet landed
And i still choose
Not to be bulletproof
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 8:21 PM UTC
Superpowers-
People always wonder what it would be like to have superpowers like their favourite heroes,
Their hero’s powers are purely subjective as you will see,
For the person who wishes for invisibility, ask an introvert in a business how it feels, to not feel seen, to feel like no one can hear your voice, and feel like you could not be present and no one would notice the difference,
For the person who wishes for super strength,
Turn to people who lost loved ones, people who suffered heartache, people who dealing with strife. These people have the strength to wake up in a morning, and carry on, with the weight of their emotions on their shoulders, but they know to keep moving.
A Sign of true strength.
For the person who wishes for the ability to read minds,
Stay with the people who love you, build strong relationships, care for those around you and over time you will learn their expressions, reading them a book, knowing what they’re thinking and feeling.
For the person who wishes for super speed,
Practice, master, do things with passion and dedication, the expression follows “it takes ten thousand hours to master something”, view this as a starting block. With time, speed and proficiency will come and you’ll be able to amaze the others around you
For the person who wishes for the ability to move things with your mind,
Never take what you have for granted, for it could all be taken away so quickly, soldiers who have lost their hands, or arms serving their country no longer have this ability, artists who suffer from nervous system disorders who are no longer able to create. Never take the ability of free movement for granted, you move things with your mind every day.
For the person who wishes for super agility,
Read, solve puzzles, read the news and learn constantly, agility is a loose term and mental agility is actually useful. The ability to learn things quickly, the ability to adapt and evolve is invaluable.
For the person who wishes to heal quickly,
Be comfortable with your emotions, your thoughts, and express them in a healthy manner, because if you can get comfortable with yourself, then the healing process won’t be as destructive nor be as long.
For the person who wishes to be bulletproof,
Take pride in yourself, be it your looks, your smarts, your personality, or a mixture of all three, insecurities are what make us vulnerable, but if you work on them, people will have less control over your mood and view of the world.
If you learn to do all of these things every day, even if it is not for long, over time you will seem like a superhero in a world filled with people who lost their way.
Just remember,
Superheroes help out every day people, no matter who they are.
Feb 6, 2020
Feb 6, 2020 at 6:28 PM UTC
What doesn't **** me makes me stronger
That which kills me, is what I long for
We're all trying to maintain
But I feel
I'll never abstain
Rid the pain, make it rain
I'll prove it with one-eighty proof
Bulletproof liquid
Even better when I mix it...
Yellow, green, and blue
I pop to change my moods
Try to control emotion
It's my own secret potion
Sink into the couch
Grab some lotion
The lonely stoner
Trapped in his mind tonight
Trapped in his mind tonight
Wasn't awake for her wake
His days and nights are mixed
Her funeral he missed
Time for another fix...
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
Sometimes the enemy is myself
In the fight for my will to live
An inner conflict that occurs
More often than I care to admit
Approaching myself with utmost care
As if I am a war torn child
Who is use to conflict yet still afraid
Like bulletproof glass that's fragile
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 8:29 PM UTC