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seethroughme Dec 2009
sometimes the truth
sits in the choosing
and not the choice
that’s made
sometimes the pain
is not the losing
but the loss of days
SelinaSharday Feb 2018
IS THERE A y.o.u!

Confidently waiting
Confidently hiding. comfortably chilling..
waiting On Nothing but Y.U.O to come along..
I'm relaxing in a tub filled with caressing roses.
Pampering..
Me soothingly preparing me!..
Enjoying me and this time getting to enjoy this new me and
who I've come to be.
Working with dedication, personally I'm sure your relating.
As your working On you too. And laboring hard day after day.
I'm not wasting this time till we are found.
Love waiting to unfold.
Its wanting to be released and be yours to keep and hold..
I'm here and sometimes I do feel that lonely.
Knowing your not holding..Me!
Yet I am enjoying this new Me!
I'm confidently enjoying.
I have my family and my friends and them I'm enjoying.
But can't wait to laugh and smile and be loved by Y.O.U.
Wondering thinking of what would it be like to touch on Y.O.U.
You..You.. You.. Feel the touch of you..
In my heart sometimes I have conversation with Y.O.U.
Thinking what If I never be found by you.
Then I'll be content to live imaginatively with you.
My perfected Y.O.U. Soul mate in you..Perfect for me kinda you.
Blessed to be tapping my fingers musically because of you.
Desiring.. confidently praying.. silently hoping there is this Y.O.U!
By SelinaSharday S.A.M. TM 2018
waiting on H.I.M THE most compatible love..
Bo Tansky Sep 2018
To Choose or Not to Choose. is it a Choice?
For the love of o!

I learned not to choose when I realized the choice had already been made.
What do I mean by that and why am I telling you this?
I say choose to choose
with 2 os because choose with 2 os is not- choice with one.
Oh, no. (Both with one o) And I love os.
Now anybody who's anybody knows that os come in two varieties.
Single os and double os.
And then there are cheerios and xs and os.
Oh, and how, (both with one o), those were the days when things were simple.
An x was just an x and an o was just an o.
Now we have so many choices.
Do you see what I mean?
Kind of like the days when women were women and men were men.
And kids didn’t get to choose. (with two os.)
Yuk, we were so limited back then.
Do you remember the not so good old days?
Everyone knew who they were and they sure as hell knew- they weren’t you.
No choice back then; when men were men, women were women, kids didn’t get to choose and that was the end.
Duality was trending back then.
Now there are so many choices.
Like how many ways can you answer the question?
To choose or not to choose.
Well, any question really.  
It’s not that simple anymore.  
You do know, yes you do, know what I’m talking about.
Let’s get this straight, I’m quite alright, even endorse the choices, as long as we separate the single os from the double os.
That’s what really drives me crazy.
What about 007.
Why did he need to be double o.
Was there ever a single o that came before the double o.
Did he choose to choose with two os or was there a single o predecessor?
Can’t say.  These are questions everyone should ask..
Instead, they choose contrived, manipulated, untrue, fake, phony, falsified, bogus, doctored and utterly ridiculous theater and never concern themselves with the bigger issues in life. yuk
And it is, for this reason, the I take up the challenge and try to answer the more serious, fundamental, visceral, honest, ultimately and timely questions. huh.
Is choosing a choice?
Without hesitation I declare.
Of course, it is not.
Anyone can see that choosing has two os and choice only has one.
Now, some may find this explanation to be quite o literal, but I can assure you it is not.
At the risk of repeating myself.
A simple glance will let you know that choice is not in the choosing for it was- choice it would have two os and it does not.  
Not that there should be a preference of os over say xs.
Yet I really like the way it sounds. Xs and os, xs and os.
Cheerios. Happy os. Videos. Delirious. Serious. Not really os- but
That’s the way it rolls in my prose.
Corny, I know.  
A rose is never a rose in my prose.
It’s all about the xs and os.  
But, one shouldn’t get hung-up on os and neglect the xs.
Oh no.
Hey, what about the x ***?
What ***?
I thought there were only 2 sexes.
That was then, remember, and this is now.
Wow, I didn’t know you didn’t know.
Well, x ***.
Has a nice sound.
And since we're all moving in that direction anyway, seems the x *** just got there a little sooner.
So they just got tired of choosing (with 2 os) and when whoever does the asking, asked, ‘so what *** do you want to be in your next incarnation?’
After realizing the party was over they just shrugged.
I don’t know man. I haven’t had much success with either.
Oh (with one o) that’s too (with 2 os) bad.
Why don’t we put you down as an x.
Ok, I guess, if that’s what you suggest.
I’ll agree to an x for my next ***.
But, wait. What the **** that is an x?
An x explained, whoever the **** does the explaining, is a human that shares both sexes.
So, what do you say? Is it a go, (with one o), or is it a nay?
So, if you ask me, there really isn’t any choice at all because it’s already been chosen.
Who did the choosing? Who knows. (both with one o)
Me, I think it was 007 because he has two os and I love os and the hell with my xs.
The subject is so xhausting if you get my gist.
I’ll leave the rest for tomorrow. A wonderful word with three os. A subject yet to be discussed.
So now, I have to go and so I leave you with mucho xs and os.
** ** **.
If you don’t mind me saying so. (with one o)



.

If you are a demon
then send me to Hell
If you are a witch
then take me with your spell

If you are a drug
Then in my vein inject
If you’re a psychosis
Let my life be wrecked

If choosing to stay
Then a price must be paid
Sign a contract in blood
I'm forever your slave

You're heartless and cold
The Devil, you might be
Yours to torture forever
Just don't ever leave
To the deepest of pits
You just take me and throw
From the world I am absent
So far down below
Other people prefer
To Hell travel than know
But for me I'd give all
Please just don't ever go

Thank you CJ for your poetic comment that inspired me to write this additional epilogue  =^)

Written: June 14, 2018
[epilogue written: April 25, 2019]

All rights reserved.
[Amphibrachic Hexameter format]
RAJ NANDY Apr 15
Dear Poet Friends, I had composed this short poem almost a decade ago, and had posted it on 'Boloji.com' poetry site, where it was declared as the best poem of the week. Hope you like the same. If you like it kindly re-post this poem! Thanks, -Raj.  

        NOT MY CHOOSING !
I had existed beyond time and space,
In a dimension which was divine,
Till You brought me here,
And said this World was mine!

With passing of each year,
I get closer to Thee,
For it is You who have brought me here,
It is You, who must set me free!

I never came of my own choosing,
You only decided my fate,
And placed my soul within
This skeletal human frame !

Now with the advancing years,
My soul yearns to be free.
For You have brought me here,
It is You, who must set me free!
                                - Raj Nandy, a very senior citizen of New Delhi.
Pure of Stars Aug 2018
i watch the sun’s glorious rays wave me goodnight
and the moon wakes up to kiss my bruised cheeks and answer all my questions
and in the morning  
the sun has woken up early so he can greet me and tell me to have a good day
and what do we do?
we complain to the sun, telling him he’s too bright and too hot
and when the moon bathes you with her glory
we wish her away
wanting to feel the sun against your skin once again
why must we want what we can’t have?
why must we always choose the other side?
please remember that the sun is our star
and he shines just for us
and the moon revolves around us
giving us the sight of all of the night sky
I like to watch the sun and the moon. I like to listen to the clouds. We don’t take the time to notice these things. We’re all so busy complaining about what we do or don’t have we don’t look up to see what the sun has to offer.
Yani Oct 2018
Have you ever stumbled upon a flower,
       next to her, you were seated;
       a gaze you never gave,
       and time passed by just like that.
She didn't bloom as you expected her to be,
       shining under the sun's rays,
       a bud that didn't open -- yet
       existing yet not appealing -- she was just about to bloom.
Have you ever stumbled upon a flower,
       as the sun was setting, you stood up;
       "please wait," she was begging
       yet you never loved her so you left.
The shy flower, yes it's tiny
       no one would pick her, no one was there;
       twenty feet, her perfume travelled;
       it was her time to flourish at night.
You never loved that flower,
       neither picked her petals nor sniffed its scent;
       she ended up saying "I love you,"
       with lost worth, is she the unlucky one?

She was a tender perennial, you unlucky one.
Tender perennial: They take a little extra work, but they are worth the effort.
Dusting off the rabbity
that squirrely tempo anxiety,
closing in with night.

The irresistible pattern
the irrational illogical fight
a battle with one’s discipline,
mirroring our might.

I make it home a fluttering
belly twirled and muttering,
I tell myself tis alright!

The damage done, and everyone,
I’m just like them and millions more
succumbing at the Devil’s door.

And the taste, the burn,
the healing calm,
the shaking and the thinking gone.

Knock one back, slam out another
night is early, rock it brother,
Tying on a swilly swirling
buzzed-out brain and mind a twirling. . .

“Ahhhh…”

I feel better now, exhilarated,
exasperation falls to stout resound;
I pour again and knock it down!

“Ahhhh…”

Spinning now, not to say I’m spun
but choosey choosing several a pun
I see myself an accomplished one!
Yes, that’s it, that is me,
look upon with thoughts of glory
yank open the freezer for glass that’s hoary. . .

How cool am I? certainly not boring
all night I’m here, pouring, pouring. . .

Buzz subsides, thoughts slow too,
lurid leering, slobbering swearing,
stupid actions and nothing new?

I lose the bottle,
I lose my shirt,
***** on myself,
pass out in dirt.

Another night of drunken hero,
time that’s wasted for kingly Nero.
But who am I to judge myself?

I’m hardly worse than anyone else?
Deceive me
Lie to me
**** with my head

On the edge of the cliff
Then you pull me to bed

Your love is a drug
*** with you gets me high
I’m a full blown ******
Makes no sense; don’t know why

You're an ever present torment
The fission laser splitting my mind
A jig-saw puzzle that was completed
Slowly each piece from each piece you unbind

Seductively you tear me down
Like the clothing you disrobe
A deer staring into headlights
I am frozen on the road

The weight of the world bearing down on me
As those focused beams get closer
Gladly I welcome them
Even though I’m not supposed to

Every rational thought I have
tells me how wrong you are for me
But they are drowned and muffled out
No more thoughts; keep your pennies

No sensible way to explain
Why I ******* love you so much
You’re a psychotic crazy *****
that I don’t want anyone else to touch
A blowtorch ignites a flame
A fire fierce and burning bright
Even though I know it will burn me
With all my gathered strength and might

All it takes from you is that look
You cast that Vampire’s gaze and grin
Instantaneously my defenses lowered
and you know you’ve ****** me in
Immerse myself into the flame
Intense pain you melt my skin
Until pain I feel no more
I’m enveloped in your sin

And like a ****** choosing dope
Everyday your sin I’ll take
I will gladly sell my soul
The most egregious of mistakes

A preying succubus appears
like a dreamy demoness
A world of dreams are turned to nightmares
Fills her needs for human flesh
Written: February 19, 2018

All rights reserved.
Umi Mar 2018
Of ones heart with shadows lurking to take over spite is made precious to be felt exciting while it is in fact trecious, but a sleeping terror awakens at times as well, thus a rampage is made amongst it,
A thrill wandering down your spine when you wrong someone and see them tremble through your actions a cold shiver followed by spite
Choosing a carefree life, yet unable to hide the fact that no spark would be able to illuminate whats in your dark, where angels fear to tread, only to explore this loitering abyss within you for some time,
All this blood lust must bring you to insanity, make you a lunatic,
But let it happen, in this emotionless shell it's what feels majestic,
The storm raging inside, waiting to feed on this caused chaos,
Evil and vile, heartless not carrying a smile while mercilessly continuing this riot of a resented soul waiting, longing for destruction
Feeling alike to be burning up, priceless about this act of cruelty until the wanted realisation drives its way into your soul and you question yourself what you have done, or why you have done it for anyway,
But the time will come again for sure, so be ready for it to arrive
When the sleeping terror awakens for another dance

~ Umi
Paras Bajaj Dec 2018
You did the right thing by losing me
and I thank you for not choosing me.
You did the right thing by fooling me
and I thank you for not choosing me.

You did the right thing by playing me
and I thank for you not saving me.
You did the right thing by breaking me
and I thank you for not saving me.

You did the right thing by hating me
and I thank you for not loving me.
You did the right thing by lying to me
and I thank you for not loving me.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj
Christian Ek Sep 2014
The two felt a chemical attraction.
Serotonin leaked onto his uncovered skin.
He couldn't speak, his tongue dried, dehydrated by her heat.
**** those eyes were like Kryptonite, He had pride in himself for being a statue.
Smooth as a razor blade he came out of that conversation dull.
The wrong impression was given since he had handed her rotten flowers.
Give me a second to recollect my thoughts and bring them back from the stunned blackout, wow, you are such a powerful knockout.
I'm fixing my posture and choosing my words right.
Our symbols are well matched and I'm not talking astrology, I'm talking chemistry.
Two different colors mixed together makes her blush and makes me crush.
Nathalie Aug 2018
I choose my life over and over

as I fall in love with every detail.

I embrace the flow of each moment

with the awareness that everything

has a purpose, even that which might

be for the moment obscure.

Everything is revealed when the time

is right. I embrace the void

in which sometimes I find myself

navigating without always having

clear answers to wavering questions. I rejoice in

the joyous brilliance which

reveals this awe striking tapestry; weaved

from each situation, encounter, person,

opportunity and life turning points.

I am divinely rich in blessings and love.
Tammy M Darby Sep 2013
Of woman's strength
Feminine emotion
Novice poet of rhyme
Wandering traveler in time
A skilled hunter

I am an outlaw
Choosing not to embrace conformity
Or integrate into the system
Societies matrix
The definition of normal
Existing uneasily on the fringe

Confederate born
Southern bred
I fly my flag with pride overhead
Not out of hate
To represent the heritage of my birth

A scholar
Obscurity is my chosen environment
Connoisseur of the written word
The yellowed paper soon obsolete  

These are my many attributions
I will not dispute it
Indeed I am a maze of confusion
In the conscious world
I am a strange combination


All Rights [email protected] Tammy M Darby
All Material Stored in Author Base Sept. 2013
ight reserved
B L May 2013
Well, it seems that they key to life
               is to simply maintain motion…
Since can’t see the air,
                I guess I’ll emulate the ocean.
I’ve found I’m better off moving,
             so I’ll let these currents do the choosing –

           Because I can’t decide
                       myself
               if my self-worth
              is worth proving.

I’ve got wounds that need soothing…
                  I’m so tired of losing.
I’ve lived too much,
                          in too few years
     for such a lack of improving.

I need a device to twist this plot –
                      Some sort of 'deus ex machina.'
I need a key to this lock,
             but there’s something blocking the
Path to my salvation.
I still long to feel elation.
But, I’m being stifled by the laws
of this "freedom-filled" nation.

I fell under the illusion of a perfect constitution
But, this "justice" isn’t clean – it’s hardly more than sheer pollution.
Hayley Sep 2017
My fire is dimming
My heart is heavy with pain
Seeing the sad state of the world
Is putting out my flame
I had hope for positive change
The path seemed so clear
But now all I see is misguided hate
And a planet in fear
Everything is crumbling
Yet people are convinced it's not
Everyone needs humbling
But no one wants to be taught
It hurts me to see
How many people are choosing hate
There is a wrong side here
But it's becoming too late
Life as we know it is about ready to end
Just remember you had a choice
To not let evil win
OC Dec 2018
A picture of your mother
dull colors of a bygone era
a polaroid born faded
a memory bestowed upon you by another
a hearsay tale long lost in time
more far than you can count on fingers
she smiles
a smile reserved for the unburdened
you wonder when this woman is
she looks happy

A finger painting of your mother
all colors watered down
a reminder that you must
prioritize
some things carry more meaning
other need meaning poured onto them
cupped like water in both hands
presented to a lip-cracked child
some water saturate the soul
while keeping others thirsty
some colors are skin deep

Your mother, wrapped in blankets
in an almost vacant bed
her paint, dry and life-bleached
you sit with her
through all these final hours
watching as the outer coating
peels off and settles to the floor
solemnly, you sweep the flakes
an acolyte on hallow ground
choosing the most beautiful
pasting to a piece of paper
crafting the image of a woman
that once could have been
your mom
Was hesitant to upload this for a while now, as it feels a bit to personal. Written for a friend.
Michael Marchese Jul 2018
I need only to smirk and you’re mine
Anytime
If it’s god that you want
I have dozens in mind
Devilishly divine
Bending time like a grandeur delusional
Spine  

In a mad hatter ectoplas-mystical slime
A prismatic drug addict’s first nursery rhyme
Of accursed hearse verses of graphic design
Now to lay to rest intellect spectacles musing
Of selves glorified more than those of my choosing
To deify Destiny’s
Deathly serenity
Plentifully sending me vibrant surprises
And penning my ending in violent demises
Disguises surmised by the climate arises
Girl always there riding my similar waves
As I try to save face digging mechanized graves

But the cloud tentacles
To the depths
Drag me down
To demented ascension
Black holes in the ground
Where disciples of light
And my huntress in white
Vivify me by day
Resurrect me at night
To instruct and deduct
Reasoning in a state
Of a being supreme
Contemplating its fate
David Adamson Feb 17
The place smells the same. Garlic, undergraduate angst, oven flame.  The menu hasn’t changed. The Antony and Cleopatra.  Italian sausage and snake meat. The Macbeth. Cooked in a cauldron.  Blood sauce won’t wash off. The Julius Caesar.  Served bottom side up.  You have to knife it from the back. The Timon of Athens. Only bitter, separate ingredients, overcooked to black. The Frankenstein.  Assembled from ingredients at hand.  Served smoking from a jolt of high voltage. The Dramatic Irony. It’s a surprise.  Everyone at your table knows what you’re getting while you cover your eyes.

You said tragedy means playing out a ****** hand. The game has to end badly. Bigger Thomas. Joe Christmas.  Hamlet.  Everybody dies.  No choices. The end. I said, no, it means you have a fatal flaw.  Macbeth and Ted Kennedy—ruthless ambition.  Gatsby—pride. Lear—vanity. Richard Nixon—douchebaggery, deep-fried. Bad choices.  

“Can’t be both,” you said.  “One is character, the other one’s fate.” “What if character is fate?” I asked smugly. “Then we’re *******, Heraclitus. It’s late.”

I smoked a pipe.  You wore a beret and severely bobbed hair. I wrote sarcastic love letters to the universe. You wrote hate lyrics to Ted Hughes, love notes to Jane Eyre. We kept relations on an intellectual plane. You had a set of big firm ideas, dark-eyed principles, and a dimpled scorn of life’s surly crap. My eloquence was tall, square-jawed, curly, tan.  Together we solved the world’s big problems as only undergraduates can.

“Can pizza be tragic; or is it merely postponed farce?” I wondered. “Here it is clearly both, though not at the same time,” you said. “Does tragedy plus time equal comedy?” “Sounds right.” “No, tragedy plus time is any order in this place on a Saturday night.” After what seems like decades our orders finally arrive.  

“What did you get?” I asked.  “Looks like the Double Tragic,” you replied. “Flawed choices and fate. I leave you. You were unfaithful to every love sonnet you ever wrote.  Yet you are the first man who makes me feel loved, the only one who ever will.  I strain for that feeling again and again but it becomes a boulder that keeps rolling back down the hill. And fate—my beautiful ******* that got so much attention from men will **** me.  The only thing they will ever nurse is a cancerous seed. You?”

“The Too-Many-Choices, done to perfection. Choosing everything means choosing nothing. Loving too many women, I love none.  I follow a simple path home but try to stay lost. Living in the space between lost and found has a cost.  My life becomes a solitary pilgrimage to no place.”

“Let’s not reduce our lives to a Harry Chapin song,” we agreed. So we toasted the beauty of what never was. I went back to my hotel to write, found my way to a few easy truths, and called it a night.
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