"compatible" poems
Oh why am I still hurting
Isn't it past the hour of pain?
Hell is only temporary
Til He rids you of all shame!
I stepped into Your room
Try to relive Your relieving
To rid me of my gloom
Try to receive Your revealing
Jealous the jealous God
I seek restless for Your love
Mine eyes grow tired and weary
Jealous the jealous God
Jealous the jealous God
I drown helpless in Your flood
I thirst scarcely for Your mercy
Jealous the jealous God
Why is the world so empty
Yet weighs millions o' pounds?
Where lies pile up aplenty
To keep the lost from being found
Why is deception
Like form of education
Setting false foundations
Corrupting His creation
As lies disguise damnation
For a paper-clad salvation
Sending ill vibrations
To the youth of all the nations
I wonder how much am I missing, o God?
A wonder even the universe cannot contain
Translated and made compatible in a human's brain.
Soulless animals kiss the land
In honor of the One
Who was, who is and is to come
Who dares their doubt expand
In disbelief blot out the sun
Jealous the jealous God
Soulless animals indeed we have become
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
If (WO)men are the ones that suffer an exacerbated amount
Of the violence, the **** the abuse, and everything that comes
with and from struggle and alienation;
it is because of their femininity that men at times
have come to believe that their contributions soften institutions.
That at times throughout history neither capitalism, neoliberalism nor revolutionary experiments like that of Cuba have placed femininity as compatible
with progress or resolution.
In which case femininity must be hidden, silenced, or displaced with no purpose or place to belong.
Thus everyone closely associated with this femininity such as homosexuals, transgendered (WO)men, and "effeminate" males, (ignoring, subverting and negating the lesbian identity because of their gender) have come to be marginalized by a structural system of exclusion.
(WO)men carrying the highest burden for originating the associative distinction
Homosexuals battling to find love by constantly having to assert their masculinity
Transgendered (Wo)men afraid of expressing their through identity.
Lesbians fighting to legitimize their own identity separate from the directives ascribed onto them by virtue of being born women.
Males who are labeled effeminate because of their sympathy toward those who struggle and are alienated.
And every other individual who refuses to deliver to give a marker to their identity and a degree to their femininity.
Hold fast in your femininity and embrace the rancor that society grants you
As a homosexual I speak with you brother and sister, not for you
Realize that our self-ascribed degrees of femininity and identity are as revolutionary and transformative, and thus necessary, as those of Che Guevara, Mohammed Ali, Harriet Tubman, or the Dali Lama.
That because we have decided to embrace our degrees of femininity, problematic to any movement, at one point or another, we have inadvertently decided to align our selves with those who are alienated the most by the systems in which they live.
So that in this way we must make our struggles deliberate and political. Let our degrees of femininity become legitimizing banners of solidarity for anyone who suffers in any corner of the world.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
Once it was garbage, refuse, trash.
A jumble of foul-smelling detritus hauled to the curb
And removed by sinewy men
Contributing a harder day's work
Than anyone else in the city.
Our energy now removes its entropy.
Sorted and classified into coloured bins,
We add order to our rejected matter.
Specialized trucks arrive to collect
The date-synchronized bins
Emptying them into functionally compatible mechanisms.
Most desolate is the black box of paper and cardboard.
Brochures and flyers, old magazines and letters.
Annual reports and cereal boxes.
Once these were enameled with crafted sentences,
Painstakingly typed, edited and debated,
On the monitors of copywriters.
Now they are just millions of words printed on flattened fibre substrates,
Jumbled into the bruised and scarred black box,
Entering into the recycling stream.
The nouns and adjectives,
Prepositions and gerunds,
All jumble together.
Fragments of precisely-crafted sentences and paragraphs
Are gradually broken, shredded and pulped.
Incomplete thoughts, broken phrases
Like those of a rejected stranger
In an lonely, unknown country.
Then words without context.
Then just disparate letters
Are all that remain.
Their M ea N inG
G r a Du all y
is re mov
e d
.
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 10:26 AM UTC
From the woodlands of Madagascar
To the highlands of Ethiopia
Dwell nine species of lovebirds.
Their genus name is Agapornis,
From the Greek agape (love) and ornis (birds).
The French call them Les inséperables
While affection between compatible pairs
Can be a joy to behold,
Lovebirds can be quite territorial
And will defend their nest.
Sexually dimorphic they mate for life.
Like all parrots they need to be well
Socialized and taken care of.
They are very vocal, making loud
High-pitched noises, especially
In the early morning time.
Stocky little birds
With short blunt tails
You can hold them
In the palms of your hands.
They love to snuggle,
They love to preen.
Happy birds: together.
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
Astrology claims it has seen us before
Maybe back when the greek gods were in power and they fell in love like liars.
Always dreaming of each other and forming plans for humanity
while tangled up in each other's bed sheets.
Are they the reason why we are not compatible?
Because they have determined that I only seem to catch things on fire and you calmly throw your waters upon my destruction..
Because I hunt among a pack and you swim with currents of the sea..
We are but slaves to the stars.
But I do know that astrology has never seen us
Call me a hopeless romantic for believing that we are different
So be it.
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 9:14 AM UTC
Nostalgia isn't what it used to be
Neither am I
Bewildered I am at how it turned out this way
Dreams and reality have to coexist
So they say
Unfortunately
That's the truth today
You see me and Casey had a good thing going
We were more than compatible
This was a love incomparable
We held hands, kissed on the street
We were happy, it was neat
This is the part where I get hurt
One day it was over, all in a blur
Something about us not being right
She moved out of the house and into the night
I'm not big on introspection
Now, I've no choice
I'm at the intersection
Of dreams and reality
With love somewhere in the middle
In search of a compass
Pointing to where I need to be
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 2:15 PM UTC
I'm head starting the challenging life
12th grade decides my future strife.
Herein lies the mystery of tomorrow
Destiny of the mighty ship in my carefull row.
Not asking for incredible flourishing results
But delivering support for my stupendous work.
Not asking for imaginative unreachable marks
But holding my hands to provide the best of myself.
Not asking to pour elixir for hardwork devoid outcome
But strolling me through the gates of earnestness.
Not asking for your substitution in me
But to confront me with your intrepid grace.
Not asking for grade ten replica
But lending me the same earnest virtue.
Help me ignore the incompatible watchers,
To provide the least hope of comparing
Falling in despair in other's successful fruits.
But to help better and improvise my solitary results
And shelter me in your house of modesty.
No beneficial ranks but the submissive marks
that lends a hair to my cognitive efforts
To grant me light in the death of night.
Let me blossom as tranquily as the sunflower
Yet not vanish in the glory of jubliation
But gradually offer me petals
And extend the reliance day by day.
Mindful and heeding my compatible hardwork
Finally, let me conquer the glamorous colour
Of my utmost individuality.
Rehabilating the small hopes intro pristine reality
Aware of the hunger turning to lime light
To strike a chord for my year before.
Take me on your hands, float me through
legitimate mistakes, rip me apart in the wave
of unquenchable thirst and finally wrap me out as
a champion badge of jaded grade twelve.
Finally,
Bless me God, provide eternal marvels
Bless me God, honour the righteous path
As the testimony of your judicious grace
Bless me God, I'm starting life (grade twelve)
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 2:52 AM UTC
Being the best couple is not about
looking awesome together. It is about
how compatible you are together. It’s
not about looking perfect together.
It’s about being perfect for each
other .You don’t need to have
extraordinary glamorous looks but
you need to have extraordinary
passion and love for each other. It’s
not about making others happy when
they see you both together it’s about
being happy when you both are
together. The best couples in the
world are the ones who are madly in
love with each other and who are
strongly determined to make their
relationship work with maturity,
understanding, commitment and
unconditional love.What some of you ladies need to know is, No matter how Fine you are,
No matter how Many OutFits You got,
No matter how smart you are,
No matter how good in bed you are,No Matter How Succesful You Are
No matter how well you **** ****
Tight ***** Scream, or Deep Throat.No Matter How Good You Smell,No Matter How Much You Earn
You Can NEVER Compete With a Girl that a ***** is in Love With..... NEVER
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 7:43 AM UTC
I used to know things about people, it was all too easy for me to figure them out.
I used to dread the day when I had found out I've failed, when I couldn't save someone. Strange or depressing as it may seem, I'm glad I haven't had to attend all the funerals I tried to prepare myself for.
I used to know if someone had ever been touched wrongly. Unwillingly. How far past their "no's" were gotten. I can't do that anymore, I don't know how to help anymore.
I used to cry at all the pain, I used to sob myself to sleep. These days I try anything just to feel a single tear on my cheek.
I used to hear things without finding or ever questioning the source. I used to sing out my struggles to the sounds I heard while crying on my backyard's swing set. I still hear it sometimes, but maybe that's just my imagination.
My mom told me I used to see angels. All I can remember was being scared of the footprints on my ceiling. Maybe they were angels, maybe they were demons. Maybe they were just early signs of schizophrenia.
Was all of that just preparation?
Was it all just a coincidence?
Is this real? Is it God's work? Is it fate?
Do I believe in any of that anymore???
Who knew that a conversation over cigarettes with you would leave me so confused.
Is our craziness compatible, like taking a drug together and having the same trip?
Or maybe we're gifted with seeing things for how they really are.
Or maybe its just you.
Maybe I'm lost forever.
I need to walk your path.
I heard sounds in the woods with you
But was it the same music?
Do we share the same insanity?
Tell me if its a blessing or a curse.
Tell me if its worth all the pain.
Tell me if I can handle it... if I won't **** myself first.
Does the light in everything outweigh the darkness?
Tell me what you think about souls now.
Does everything live forever?
Can you still see their light if they're dead?
Tell me what you feel.
Tell me what you know now.
I want your truths.
This has to be real.
My world has been flipped and turned inside out.
But finally, for once, I think everything makes sense.
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 3:12 AM UTC
the world is full of missing parts,
then so am i
the malfunction of my image can bloom
the good deeds may glitch and die
no broken hearts could open gates for others
only throbbing fissures are to be seen
secret doors and damaged keys
rotten sadistic teen
yet you came
and i've never seen a demon so sweet to me, how?
smooth puffs ****** into my head
making me crazy and sane,
trust ain't easy to gain,
but i'm coaxed by your vows
i liked myself before
then i like my halo better now
the idea of angel wings and a fiend's ***** is not a good blend
but a compatible path was created
with an adequate commitment to try
he said he wants to love the opposite
if that's the deal,
then so am i
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 10:09 PM UTC
ARTERY CONFESSION.
_Her love to me is like moon light, on a starry night._
As rising sun at dhawn. Like vine planted on his heart's yard. _which he ought to water to flowery_ _And fruitage._
his love for her is as deep as the dept of an ocean, _with the fishes abiding therein,_ _as stars, moon,_ and the sun adhered to the sky, it never
departed away from her side.
_his love to her can simply easily be compared to_ _GOD's towards mankind._
So he confessed and rendered his heart to her. _Like a teeming downpour upon earthen soften, it surface._
so her love compassed his heart comforting, _like pabulum to mind._
As light rays to eye sight. His love for her is reality only can be told in tale of their love story,
_gory to glory._ _He so_
Much love her and
really ready,
_in for her, fell in the water._
Lost and found with her for ever. _He wish he could wash her feet wilt the waters of his soul, cleansing her heart._
because he see her heart compatible to his.
_Remembered old days of midnight calls, they never used to give sleep to their eyes._ While talk through night, dusk till dawn,
_Remembered promises and all the pain they both had gone through heaven and hell._
*Never forgot the only first day he felt the fullness of her ******* _how sooth her heart. Tongue on tongue, mouthy pleasure._
His hands on her curves. Briskly remembered she _told him that after her_
momma he be next to her.
_She call him dad he call her Mami._ Before she demised his mama used to asked about his lady. His homies do too.
_His young blood can't either forget her memories,_
last night he was asked about her, oh sweetness
_is all about thee._ _Can't forget_
her, _he always craves_ her. All he ever wanted and desires are all found in her, his boo. _He truly loves her because he knew she'd make a good mother,_
Hope she'd understand if he change sometimes just only because he never own everythang as his. _So remember he always told her_
that he will always be there for her as time,
_even in the world after here._ _Her love is so good to him_
She has the key to his heart.
_reminisce she told him she'd_
_rather die for him than sleeping at someone else side._
She's his inspiration like a transportation, his motivation only she can help build his cloud nation. _His aspiration_
all is found in her, _all in ONE no one else but she._
She source the past time joy and still the reason _for today's and the hope_
of tomorrow's glee.
Sacrifice his love for her because he believes in future with her, she's his destiny his fate mate his ruth, his batsheba,
_His mary, his eve and soulmate._
#c9_fm
Feb 9, 2021
Feb 9, 2021 at 4:26 AM UTC
i say all the right things
always thinking ahead
never fully present, just
hoping you won't recognize the mask
hoping you'll fall in love with
silly old me
i wear my skinny jeans as a mask,
ironically to conceal the fact
that i'm both skinny and pale
i drone on about helping people,
when all i really wanna do
is help myself
only i can't
does that make me a bad person?
mostly, i'm pale because i live
in a pitch black cave, forever
haunted by bullies and ancient wounds
it's the wounds that get you early,
that are the hardest to heal
still,
i sometimes venture out of the cave
recklessly careful,
tequila is my kryptonite
upgrades my powers to carefully reckless
only i'm no superman
i'm the clown that paints his wounds with bright colors
that's a lie
i'm more like cinderella with a beard
always on the clock,
waiting for the glass slipper to crack
my **** is pretty cute though
no kidding
it's out there somewhere
looking for that beautifully complicated wound
hoping,
wondering,
is it compatible with mine?
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
a treatise on compatibility this is theoretically
presented
by a linguist with limited trigonometry sense
and since the heart beats and is 360 degrees
I sought out a tangent to measure her with
or sine to figure out logically
whether we were compatible
like functionally
on a straight line or tangentially
perpendicularly
in degree and cosines or measurement mathematically
similar
then found no co-efficient to portray
her smile
fell out of my array
with nothing else
to equal
her.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
That smile.
That smile that makes me forget an argument.
That laugh.
That sweet laughter.
That eases the moods we both gets in.
Is it any wonder?
That we so compatible.
You fit me.
I fit you.
Two lovers responsible for one another's happiness.
Those eyes.
Those eyes that brings a smile unto my face.
Loving you is a pleasure.
And a moment with you is never a waste.
Yes, that smile.
Plus those eyes has me hooked.
And I never even mention those lips.
Which are so kissable.
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 11:32 PM UTC
"Democracy is not compatible with financial oligarchy."
-Che Guevara
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 4:23 PM UTC
I live in a world
Where we pet deer with cars
So we set our emotions in jars
The cops drive with broken headlights
And nobody knows what's right
Yet we're not allowed to fuss
Because we're on a prison bus
So I dream of the days
I'll get to see the freeway
You got in my car
That didn't go far
You decided to call a taxi
Because I was so taxing
I got under your skin like a cyst
And I became your taxidermist
You jumped in my town car
That became a clown car
You made me feel like a star
And then left me on Mars
Where I lived out the back of my hearse
Patiently waiting for a compatible nurse
I found myself in an ambulance
Withdrawing from all your medicine
I couldn't get out of the trance
Your bulldozer left me embedded in
After being rolled in the muck
I became a monster truck
I wish you were a convertible
So I could at least get a nibble
For you handle a road of ugliness with grace
It's the same daunting road I cowardly face
We just can't travel together
That's how we'll travel forever
I just wish you could know
The places my car will go
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 5:03 AM UTC
I have a habit of packing a labyrinth in the back of my hippocampus,maintaining balance,like coasting through ocean,its outlandish.I'm on the tangent of ravenous madness complete with calculus captiousness capturing the effect of parabolic randomness.Long story short,I'm just dramatically imagining,I think my genius is overactive again.Calamitous analysis compatible with harzardous pathogens passing through passages to the abucus of antagonists,but its backwards,shhh.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 1:39 PM UTC
"Tell me about you," he said.
"What would you like to know?" she asked."
Everything," he said."
That could take some time," she said."
I have time," he said.
He listened, and watched.
He looked & listened for a live mind, live heart and live eyes.
He hoped he would find contradictions.
Confidence and vulnerability.
Energy and stillness.
Gracefulness and stumbling.
At home in a five-star hotel or eating pizza at home.
Enjoying silly jokes and impassioned debate.
A personality to express and a desire to please.
He was not without checkboxes to be filled, of course;
we are none of us blank sheets.
But he did not seek perfection.He sought someone very real.
A woman with thoughts, feelings, passions.
A woman who has known highs and lows, and been lost to neither.
A woman who has things she will not compromise.
A woman who has things about which she cares deeply.
A woman who lives a philosophy of her own creation.
A woman who rejects mediocrity.
A woman who wishes to be tied and dominated in the bedroom,
and to have doors held open for her outside it.
He knew what he sought was rare.
He knew the hunt would take time.
But he had found it before, and would find it again.
And he was in no hurry.
His friendship was widely available,
though his truly close friends few in number.
His sexuality to the compatible ones.
The whole of him, though ... everything;
that would be available only to one.
To an incredibly rare & valuable creature.
With her, he would share it all.
They would venture into dark, hard places together.
Then emerge into light, laughter-filled ones.
They would share their minds, bodies, hearts, souls.
They would share their dreams and their fears.
She would share the whole of her with him, and he with her.
It would begin with the smallest step.
She would read this, and respond.
Perhaps with a few paragraphs, perhaps with a few pages.
He waited, patiently.
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 12:44 PM UTC
She came to him like a special angel from heaven
He had lost all faith, he was on his life number 7
She found a crack in his hardened armor
He was in disbelief, it was to his honor
They found themselves to be compatible
But his social graces where unconventional
Her beauty and wisdom sailed the seven seas
He never went beyond the forest and the trees
This Special lady tugged and pulled at his heart string
Witch made the melody of his soul dance and sing
She even stirred his passion with a big tight huggy
A thousand stinging bees filling his heart with honey
Her deep soulful eyes put a spell and made him pray
He just couldn’t stop thinking of her night and day
Putting him in a trance, not knowing what to say
This fine lady was in a class that has all that
This poor lad could only offer poems and a chat
The princess in this story was moving fearless and fast
He feared with his lack of nobility, the dream would not last
She drives, flies, floats, plays and stays first class
He always seems to be in a long line, to be the last
The feeling she gave him will forever in his heart last
He feels sad the best he has to offer, is all lost in the past
Dark mystery still surrounds this girl that likes white and black
He’ll try and sweep her off her feet with gifts of vanilla and lilac
Her biggest dream has to do with innocent smell, theses are facts
He hopes she’ll forgive him for all the thing that he poorly lacks.....
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 3:55 PM UTC
His fingers wrap tightly around his cup,
shaking, tingling, raising it to his lips often,
the white frothy coffee drink steaming
while his tongue ignores the intense heat.
She plays with straw and the cardboard cup,
letting the heat of the black coffee
ease the tension between her fingertips
and seep down to each of her toes.
She smiled at him, observing each detail
that she loved about his appearance.
He sincerely laughed at every word she said,
looking deeply into her ocean eyes at every chance.
His white drink remained in his cup
as he carefully took sips to relax his nervouseness,
but she slopped her dark grinds, spilling them
over the edge and permanently staining the white.
The cups, at first sight, seemed to describe their personalities.
And yet, at a deeper second look, described their demeanor.
On the outer appearance, he was put together and cautious,
with a plan for his entire future,
while she was messy and without a care for what's next,
oblivious to her own wreckage.
But on the insides, both were bitter-sweet coffees,
happy to finally see eachother after so long,
but nervous because of their unresolved last encounter.
He was pure, curious white. She was dark, mysterious black.
Totally opposite and yet perfectly compatible.
Neither admitted one missed the other,
yet they promised to meet every summer and winter forever.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
1.Emotional obesity
Her enlarged ego, she proudly wore
as if it was an impregnable armor
what an observer could see was
an emotionally obese siren on the prowl.
her mate too was thoroughly
compatible to her,
when they danced, two enlarged
egos rubbed in a way really wrong.
2.Ego trouble
Every ego is different in shape, size and measure
but in essence all egos are capable of making troubles.
3.Killing ego
Killing ego isn't about blood and gore, it's good riddance,
that's the way to make light go euphoric, proliferate.
4.Ego goes in to a bag
Every individual ego soon finds on its own,
an equally capacious ego bag to carry it around.
5.System breaker
When an ego problem seeps in to a system,
it'd establish it's nuisance value; helps to easily sell it.
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 9:14 AM UTC
My dear,
prince charming is a broad term
for a gentleman who truly
respects me for who I am,
what I do, and how I look.
He must tolerate my quirks
and
most importantly,
our demons must be compatible
so they silence each other.
If you did ride horse,
I would be impressed but
I'm more concerned about
character than some fantasy.
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 7:54 AM UTC
You're like my favorite colour
I like, I love you?
you're compatible with my personality naturally I gravitate toward your hues
ideals
I accuse you of being my primary color
can't quite describe my attraction nor how something so unique could be contracted
but,
I color your lips pink with mine
only to Braille a picture
I'm blind.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 10:05 PM UTC