"compares" poems
The poet writes words of what a friendship so dear
Have you ever seen a blue sky that is more clear
Words growing much like the flowers in spring
The poet writes words even more beautiful to sing
This friendship a seed that’s been planted in the ground
The poet’s words make it grow, oh how it abounds
Now a bud growing strong petals opening in the light
The poet compares our friendship to a gem in the night
The flowers grow more beautiful as the rain pours down
A friendship now shinning just like a golden crown
The poet keeps writing on as the flowers nourish
Telling of the friendship how it has begun to flourish
Fall being near the soft petals of flowers now falling
The poet writes of a long time friendship calling
Even though the flower petals may wither away
Our friendship still grows even more each day
Much like the winding of a road begins to bend
The poet’s words sadly now coming to an end
Much like the sunshine rises every dawn
May our loving friendship continue to grow on
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 3:32 AM UTC
What beauty compares with the break of dawn
Shining like your smile, the one for which I long
To see again and again
Constantly wondering when.
The brilliance of your soul shines ever so bright
Your personality alone lights up the darkest twilight
Black Moon
The sleepless nights I spent thinking about you
Silver Sun
The mornings I spent wondering if these encounters were done
Where did you go?
I'm not sure if even you know
The light is so dim and increasingly dull
More obscure thoughts bounce around in my skull
I need you, please to save me from here
The bright light you provide and can't possibly fear
Illuminates the abyss in which I fell
Light that guides the way and makes all things well
Luminous, bright, a light pure as snow
I missed that smile of yours, you know
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 5:46 PM UTC
Nothing in this world compares to the feeling
Of gliding through a Rocky Mountain snowy forest
Powder gliding under the skis, silently
And feeling like you're, for once, at peace
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 11:38 AM UTC
You'll love her with all your skin, tongue and lungs.
The way that the air is just so much more crisp whenever she's in proximity to your hands.
It turns the scattered dust in the atmosphere into magnifying glasses
Aimed directly at her
Spotlighting everything you wish you could put into words but can't
Because she's just too ******* unbelievable
That even if you tried, you would offend yourself and the gods with how little it compares to
The love she makes you feel in reality.
You would do everything for her.
Hold her until your bones start to crack
So that she'll understand just what you mean
When you tell her that you'll never let her go.
But she still doesn't get it.
She'll never understand that when you tell her that you want nothing more
Than to let your dust be her dust, her words to be in your cheeks
Her nose to be your daughters nose
You mean that you want nothing more than to keep her forever.
But you never will.
Because you never stood a chance.
You thought that by giving your whole self over to her she would offer you the same respect.
That's not how this world works.
It never was.
These valiant efforts of yours are now dubbed selfish and inconsiderate by others
For not taking her feelings into account.
Because she doesn't know what true love is.
She never felt the need to have you near.
For her daughters smile to be your smile.
For your hands to cradle her head when she's sad.
To let you talk for hours without listening to a single ******* word you're saying,
Because she's lost in the sound of your voice.
Because she doesn't know how to accept anything she isn't willing to give.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 2:17 AM UTC
I picture your arms around me
Caressing my hair behind my ear
Oh what I would for you to really be here
I’d cross the seven seas just to see you smile
Just to feel your warm embrace I’d walk a hundred miles
Just to see you for a while those are the things I’d do
Because nothing, truly nothing, compares to seeing you
Jul 14, 2021
Jul 14, 2021 at 4:32 PM UTC
Reinaldo was the name they gave the great white elephant
Who came to clear the jungles around Sao Paulo
A clever notion that because Reinaldo was born in the jungle
Any jungle would do just fine, Brazilian or Siamese made no difference
Just as clever was the notion that because I was a black man, educated
I would do just fine directing other black men to do work, English or Portuguese made no difference
Was I truly so much a fool, twice over?
Reinaldo occasionally was afflicted with slothfulness
Some of the men thought it was from lack of **** and whip
I was of a mind that it was due to lack of companionship
It was costly enough to ship one giant beast across a great sea
I left a wife, in Maryland, whom I never loved and who never loved me
I admit before the plan was in motion I never considered that Reinaldo could have a family
Sometimes, I wonder, did he have a wife who never loved him?
Loneliness became a common theme in our new home away from home
And Reinaldo and I became friends, at least I thought of him fondly
As far as I could say, of all the men he responded best to me
At times it seemed a load of lumber was hauled as a personal favor
For the handler too soft to handle with fear and anger
But as much as loneliness was a theme, so was change, and death
The lifespan of an elephant compares to the lifespan of men
Were this scheme of mine to have worked as desired
I could have sent for a cow, and made Reinaldo a sire
Soon it was revealed that slothfulness was a symptom of an elephant young, healthy and wise
Who sensed not his own, but a friend's imminent demise
Now I am left to wonder how Reinaldo will fare in a world stranger than I could have known
His softest handler and only friend bedridden, waiting for my disease to take its final toll
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 6:28 PM UTC
I'm crazy today.
I'm crazy in a way that nobody compares to him
and I'm wasting my time on these men
because even though he was bad
he was still good
in ways that I loved;
not with how he treated me,
just in who he was.
and it's dumb because these new men are good
but not good enough
to help me forget.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 9:59 PM UTC
*nothing compares
to the burning desire
brought by his stare*
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
Beauty vs beast
The petals of the rose
Draw all the attention away from the thorns
It is fascinating how a single flower can be so beautiful
Yet contain a hint of ugliness in it to
Just like the peacock
Which has a million stunning feathers on its tail
Drawing attention away from its feet
It saddens the peacock itself
When it compares its beauty to the deformity it contains
Nothing is perfect in this world
Dont expect it to be
If these beautiful creations contain imperfection
Remember somewhere we are also flawed
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 3:03 PM UTC
Not an enigmatic smile
Like the constipated, condescending smirk
Adorning, and inexplicably adored, on the Mona Lisa's smug face;
But a smile to justify God's existence;
A smile that, when dazzlingly bestowed
Upon one fortunate soul, caught rabbit-like in its
Wondrous radiance, infinitesimally, and cumulatively,
Increases the World's joy. Where every living thing -
Whatever exists on the planet, imperceptibly hums
To a new, more celestial pitch -
An effervescent vibration celebrating Life's mysteries:
A reason for existence.
It's a smile to make an Alchemist cry -
Turning a leaden heart to gold in an instant.
It's a smile to make a mediocre poet struggle
To articulate an adequate description
Using all the hyperbole, simile and metaphor at his limited disposal.
Inestimably more brilliant, and more valuable,
Than the most flawless diamond ever found -
And, perhaps, just as rare.
Thankfully, a renewable resource,
Enabled to enlighten and heat
The recesses of any beneficiary's
Heart and invigorate their soul.
Helen may have caused a thousand ships to sail,
Destroying a nation as a consequence;
And Cleopatra nearly caused the collapse of an Empire;
But Tao's smile, unleashed in all its glory
Could melt the Antarctic ice-sheet -
Drowning us all in its magnificence.
Mayan's have a myth that states such a smile
Only comes around once every twelve thousand years,
In the Great Galactic turning.
Einstein's General Theory of Relativity
Is often mistakenly considered to concern gravity,
But is, in fact, concerned with one's relative position
To Tao's smile - an inescapable vortex of pleasure.
No music conceived of the fabled Celestial Spheres
Compares to the silent, ethereal harmonies tattooing my heart
Whenever, beacon-like, that smile flashes fleetingly in my direction.
And Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle has not a Quantum core,
But revolves around the statistical uncertainty of being blessed
With the ephemeral thrill of a benign grim.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
Oh Jackie
Do you think it’s easy
To fall in love with just a kiss
Now every day I miss that natural
Curl of your lips
I can’t explain your beauty
Maybe it’s just a kink
Something I saw in a dream
Of beauty Aphrodite esteems
And maybe some ancient time
You’re shape was aspired
You were molded like clay
And heaven laid the lines on your face
I so admire
Every glowing smile
And forever linked
In a web of my little kinks
I fall hard for beauty
Carved like a goddess from maybe another life
When I’m drunk I wanna call you up
And say, **** it let’s go elope
Be my wife
And I’d never say these things to your face
For all you know I’m just another disgrace
A missed connection, you could never give a ****
For every text and every kiss that I miss
And you can find something else?
I wish I knew what it was
Cause when I met you
I just wanted to run away in the sun
And find you a place that I can truly say
The beauty only compares
To the curl of your lips
And the rose of your cheeks
And the soft, caress of your kiss
Forever imprisoned
To find something comparable
This feeling has taken me over, it’s unbearable
I can only lay, here, here in the sand
And hope to god a love like hers
Will find me somewhere?
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
Perhaps your body is composed of thousands of stars.
Limitless constellations make up your fingertips
your eyelashes
and the curvatures in your ears.
Galaxies are interwoven under your skin and how you glow.
You glow like the moon in the sky when it is at its brightest.
When nothing compares to the sight of the moon and the tiny specks in the sky are just insignificant floating circles.
Your hair flows like the Nile River.
Boundless, pristine water overflowing at my fingertips.
You are more than the ocean; you are all the bodies of water in the earth combined.
You are the last drop of coffee in my old, vintage, mauve red mug.
The last caffeine induced sip that flows through my oesophagus with a relinquishing taste of sweetness.
You are the sweet nectar that hummingbirds look for in flowers and when they can't find flowers with a taste that will satisfy them, they settle on trees.
You are the trees that produce oxygen, and the branches of the trees that tower over me like a netted blanket.
You are the cotton blanket keeping me warm on windy or rainy days because it doesn't snow in the Philippines.
But if you were snow, I would gather you in a plastic container and keep you in my ice compartment so you wouldn't melt.
You make me feel like I'm melting.
Like every possible emotion i possess flows out of me like vapor.
And you are the smoke that forms after you've blown the flame of a candle; you gently float in the air surrounding the space where the flame used to be.
You are the compacted tissues in my chest; you fill the void I once had.
You comprise my veins, my arteries and vesicles; you are a vessel of euphoric elation.
You are my utopia.
You are.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 9:22 AM UTC
...
It’s been seventeen hours and twelve days, since we said our last goodbye.
Since you were gone, I told myself that I could move on.
All that I needed was, someone like you to love.
But how could I forget, these is nothing, and I have checked,
not-a-thing in this universe that can take your place.
Because, Princess, Nothing Compares To You.
It’s a long way that we have walked, why should I now believe that we should stop?
And I have walked. A Thousand Miles I Have Walked,
just to be that man who didn't want to lose you.
Perhaps The Fault was in me.
But, Princess, I Just Don’t Want To Lose You.
Remember then, when in the August Rush,
I Drew You, to show my love.
For I had a reason to change, to be the perfect fit for your checklist, and The Reason was you.
And then you replied, by walking away a few miles.
We knew that this ain't true love yet, but you said you would Stay With Me.
And, Princess, why didn't you stay with me?
And how I wished for you to wake me up when all this ends.
And you woke me up before September’s end,
While I was still in bed,
Hoping to wake up with Amnesia.
Because, Princess, I was not fine at all.
No, I’m really not fine at all.
And then I woke up with Amnesia on a rainy October eve,
since you were just beside me, and that's all I need.
But then you asked me to not feel needed.
You told me to not love you so much.
But how could I not, when I’m Only Human.
And, Princess, I’m only a human.
On the day - a year back - when he was, where I am,
You told me that you felt nothing,
Like the nothing that compares to you,
for me.
Without a stab, I felt pain.
Without a wound, my blood started to drain.
My chest was heavy and I knew my heart was beating in vain.
But, Princess, how could I Make You Feel Something That Your Heart Won’t?
All this time that I have spent in wait of meeting this date.
17 hours and 12 days ago, I have missed my train.
The day that means more to me than to you,
How could I Let Her Go?
So Lets Be The Life Of The Party,
And remember to walk further more. Together.
Because, Princess, Happy Birthday To You :).
P.S. I Will Always Love You.
...
- Inspired by our songs. KD.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 2:02 PM UTC
He is sunshine
A guiding light
Someone to take me through the night
He is sunshine
A brighter day
The joy that keeps the darkness away
He is sunshine
A ray of hope
Of love, of truth, and of home
He is sunshine
Nothing less
To call him the brightest would suit him best
He is sunshine
The brightest star
Earth is dull without his spark
He is sunshine
Warmth so sweet
As he holds me close, the world's underneath
He is sunshine
Nothing compares
To call him beautiful is less than fair
He is sunshine
A light I've lost
They've taken my sunshine away
He is sunshine
Now my skies are gray
The clouds are dark and they speak of rain
He is sunshine
And I hope, I wish, I pray
To see my sun rise again someday
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 8:02 AM UTC
Nothing compares to a kiss on the lips.
You can brush your lips up against her temple
And you can kiss him on the cheek,
But all those kisses pale in comparison
To a kiss on the lips.
See there's a sort of passion and commitment
That can only be found when lips collide.
You can share a moment with his neck
And give her love on the small of her back
But all those kisses pale in comparison
To a kiss on the lips.
Because while our lips are making small talk in the space between our cheeks we share in a sort of connection that only lips can provide. A sort of understanding that this is more than just a moment of lust, or a second of seduction. This is a sort of connection that holds its ground. Because even if love fails, lips are remembered. Lips don't forget. Lips are forever.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
Starstruck when our eyes meet
Electricity goes right through me
Nothing compares to this
This is the sweetest
Most precious
Sense of happiness
In your heart, I find peace
In your eyes, I see sense
In us, I find confidence
Confidence in true love
Confidence in trust
Confidence in worth
Confidence of all sorts
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
there's ethical idealism:
where ethics is discussed...
there's ethical relativism:
where ethics is practised...
there's ethical realism...
where ethics is quantified
as an improbability;
and then there's ethical
absolutism,
where we supposedly
"progress" -
in this scenario are
the laws of physics actually
suspended:
whereby oculus qua oculus
is replaced -
a loss of an eye is "relative"
to 10 years in a cage...
really?!
ethics is
ideal, realistic, absolute or relative...
we're encouraged to live
in "realistic relativism"...
never in an absolute realism,
since realistic relativism
only compares itself
to ideal absolutism...
and nothing more...
ever watched that film
secrets in their eyes?
you ever wonder what
ethical idealism is to the ethnical
consequence that can absorb
a realistic libra?
i can only believe in
ethical absolutism,
ethical relativism is horrid to me...
relativism adorns idealism,
absolutism adorns realism...
a life sentence is worse than
a death sentence,
whether justified or not,
prison is sadism,
but at least ****** is simply ******
a space-time intact,
a ****** penalty is not
inhumane, nor a ouija board...
it's time for time,
space for space,
the actual punishment comes
with the missing adrenaline rush
of the unexpected reception of the wielded
weapon...
either send these jealous plonkers to
siberia, or sentence them to death,
for you are no more than they are,
nay, you are more...
you're akin to cats toying,
playing a sadistic games with half-mutilated
mice...
this is why i abhor
ethical relativism of the crucifix...
hence my belief in ethical
absolutism in the paragraph of realism,
which is perfected, by
being exacted, and never, ever,
being leisurely discussed,
on a farcical palette with a grimace
to boot: ******* a lemon;
compensating the horrors within
minutes, is never compensated
with ordeals that last years...
which is why i find the death penalty
an act of authentic humanity,
and not this quasi-humanitarian
act of pardon, ******* hypocrites -
i abhor the caged rat
more than the rat gladly nibbling
on a dead corpse...
at least there was passion
in the ******
waiting for death penalty is like killing
a vermin with poison,
disposing them with nonchalantly...
the wise maxim states:
ledo ferrum sicut id est calidi -
strike the iron while it's hot...
death is the dawn-broker -
a new tomorrow promise -
left intact, the fermenting process
of ethical dynamism takes over...
then again,
the supposedly "evolved"
preferred moral relativism to moral
absolutism,
because there was no
moral realism to speak of,
since morality could only
be talked about in ideal terms of
the supposedly so, supposedly
fashioned via: it ought to never happen to
me...
and then it might, and then:
oops... argument sinks like a wet fatty ****
into shambles of keeping up with
the presupposed pillar of argument
being "impenetrable";
hey, genius, back to the blackboard!
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 8:50 PM UTC
she compares her sweet tooth
to that of a good long scream,
the kind where your throat hurts a little after
and your eyes water,
the type of scream where your neighbors start to wonder
if either you’ve been murdered,
or you've just had the best ****** of your life,
because it sounds just a little too pleasureful
to be the sound of of an inevitable death.
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 7:24 PM UTC
I went from a lover to a liar in a heartbeat;
the flip of a switch as soon as I heard I could get what I'd been craving.
The jolt of electricity through your bloodstream, the feeling of being alive with your senses on fire, the ability to seem untouchable: superhero like even...
Almost nothing compares in that moment, but in the afterglow, when your cape begins to lose its wind and your heart starts to slow, nothing feels worse than pondering it's destined finale.
Discovering your conscience, all the while knowing that no matter how much you love someone, the poison always comes first.
It's a terrible reality, the ability to choose.
And I always choose wrong, down the path of the chemical adventure, knowing that at the end, I always inevitably fall off the cliff.
But it's an obsession: being on top of the world, and no matter how much time passes, or how far I think I've come, she always wins.
It's the slow onset, the clarity, the peaks where everything seems far better than it actually is, but now the dream is over.
I need to let it go or it will consume me; living in a false reality, locked in to my need for perfection.
She used to calm me and make me godlike, but now I've fallen from my pedestal and upon looking up, I see she turns me into the monster I've never wanted to be...
Hiding, in shame, from the soul I love the most. I wish I could tell her, divulge all of my secrets, but the fear of the disappointment on her face is too much for me to bare.
Because I know she could help me,
if I would just tell her the truth.
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 12:39 AM UTC
Her Masterpiece Is Her Story
Her paintbrush is a razor,
Her canvas, her wrists,
"I deserve the pain."
She shrugs and insists.
One day the brush will push down,
And it will cut so deep,
That this girl will fall
into an eternal sleep.
She doesn't remember how she started
What brought her interest to this,
How do you discover,
that cutting is your form of bliss?
No one would have guessed that she does it.
No one would have considered this one.
This girl is forever fighting a battle,
that she thinks the demons have won.
Her artwork is all over her,
Her beauty is on her thighs,
and if you look in her old trash,
you'll find her letters of goodbye.
Her masterpiece is quite disturbing,
Her masterpiece is a little gory,
Her artwork is her escape.
Let me tell you her story.
She compares herself to every person,
She is compared to each girl.
She thinks she's hideous,
And there's this boy that is her world.
She was bullied and picked on,
She was teased from head to toe,
Hard to believe that her best friend,
was her one and only foe.
Then later she disliked every little thing,
Her body, face and even her mind,
Soon she saw she was a failure,
and it was just in due time...
That this girl couldn't take it anymore
She'd decided she was done living this,
So one day she went home
and decided to end it.
Everyday for multiple days,
This girl would try to drown,
Hard to believe this girl at school,
never ever wore a frown.
Sometimes she'd just fall asleep crying,
Praying that she'd be enough,
Because she didn't want to leave her family.
She knew about their sweet love.
This girl found hope in small things eventually,
She soon would see this beautiful light,
and find a REAL best friend,
that helped her put up a fight.
Her masterpiece soon was leaving,
Her artwork was almost faded,
and it gave her a sick feeling,
the feeling of being jaded.
She found a boy that actually loved her,
And showed her love exists,
And this boy too had a masterpiece,
placed close to his wrists.
He related to her and she related to him.
She kissed his artwork and said he's not alone,
When she cut herself it hurt him,
Her masterpiece now wasn't just her own.
Her masterpiece effected others,
Her artwork wasn't just for herself,
She now had people,
who saw her cries for help.
And then her family found out,
So then they saw the art too,
to them they were just scars,
To her they were the truth.
She's trying to be okay now,
She thinks she might survive,
Even though they didn't think
to take away the knives.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 10:24 AM UTC
Its beams pull at the heart strings, each a different noise.
No ray on a futile descent.
All with purpose and poise.
Each stream of light reinvents,
the palette of colors our earth bares.
Truly nothing compares.
Apr 4, 2022
Apr 4, 2022 at 12:20 AM UTC
jokes, no limits
everybody needs to laugh, to dream
so let's rush and get away
spend the weekend with vampires
extroverts not needed
just need a friend to get by
(or i'd probably go insane)
read, write, listen with me
don't think i don't care about you:
of all the somethings and someones,
nothing compares to this, to you
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 10:03 AM UTC
A dream catcher is the key to the soul,
Keeping away bad thoughts before you go to bed,
Having them in him for ever and ever,
So the bad thoughts can't come back to your head.
His own beauty compares nothing to me,
With his entire silent stillness and grace,
Keeping away all mt bad memories hidden to my sight,
Having my dreams keep their pace.
He has his own spirit far inside it,
Placing away old bruises and cries,
Scooping them away like cool earth dirt,
Carrying them away from my eyes.
He can't ever succeed another thing,
Attempting to keep my innocence pure,
He can show me subconscience from reality,
He helps me keep my awareness sure.
His own feathers are wild, curly, brown,
While the beads are his khaki green eyes,
He understands my abuse at a young age,
Makes me face my demons and say good bye.
His web to catch them are his hands,
Big, steady, undeniably warm,
Covering half the area of my back,
While I breath in his chest and hide from harm.
He knows he can leave, but he doesn't,
He's a nightingal, my children and I are his songs to sing,
Deeply breathing, protecting me all night,
He wears the other matching ring.
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
As a writer,
Pictures inspire the emotion:
The journal acting as the canvas,
And the pen being the brush,
And as a writer to an artist,
Black and white had never shown more beautifully.
Though as a writer dating an artist,
To view meaning within the basic lines of the world
Compares not to the placing of meaning atop the ones given.
For as a writer dating an artist,
A blank page envelopes more than unfinished work,
As any unfinished work soon becomes accepted beauty.
And as a writer dating an artist,
Seeing emotion in color no longer feels foreign,
Evolving old metaphors into nothing shy of the neanderthals.
Thus as a writer dating an artist,
I've begun to learn the way of the trade,
In fear for when my words run dry.
As an artist,
Words inspire the feelings,
The canvas acting as the journal,
And the brush being the pen.
And as an artist to a writer,
Silence had never been etched more enticing.
As the writer dating an artist-
I have become the artist in love with a writer.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
‘Twas during inner turmoil that a certain yearning arose
Whispers of breakage reaching deeper as time goes
From the disillusionment of reality it was forged
Of seething rage the desires hunger gorged
In following certain conformities felt like being a prisoner
The will to resist the motions of many being aimed to muster
To not be like a tree that has to be cut or uprooted just to move
To be driven by reasons that to only ones viewpoint can behoove
Looking at another view of the coming uncertainty
As a pathway to many possibilities with regards to unpredictability
That stopping a tragedy is sometimes not the thing to do
Lest one forgets that the phoenix must burn down to rise anew
Or that Ragnarok is followed by a great rebirth
Who can know what revelations a raging flood might unearth?
Being lost might as well be the way to find an elusive longing
The remedy to the Anhedonia closely and ominously looming
When being chained to the rhythm just compares to an inner futile feeling
Knowing that a greater horizon is missed by the act of settling
A bet on the odds that epiphany might be found in whatever form
To behold serendipity actually being brought by the coming inner storm
In using the great idleness to plan the restoring of a balance
And to see clearly without the feeling of rushing pressure and turbulence
The path and pace may change to the deeper quest not yet ceased
In bringing forth the long sought betterment through a cataclysmic release.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 12:32 AM UTC