"compensate" poems
Subconsciously,
I replaced your emotions
With emoticons
Your eyes
With profile pictures
Your voice
With fonts
Falling into this technological abyss
How could I be so stupid
Thinking whatsapp
Could compensate
For your aura.
And now consciously
I suffer...
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC
heart shaped kisses
really miss my mistress.
drowning in a sea of loneliness i call my home
might be better than sitting on a plastic throne.
but if she's here too then that's perfect for me
because she's one of a kind- extraordinary.
i imagine she kisses like a rattlesnake
addicting and deadly but i don't think she's the type to compensate.
i'd never make her do such a thing
only mostly for the fear that she’d never act the same.
because when she hangs over my hips tighter than my belt
i get the most intense feelings i've ever felt.
i’m starting to think she’s engraved in my bones
and if she leaves i’ll have to go with her because i have to go wherever my collagen goes.
i imagine she cries the way stars fall from the sky
beautifully and mesmerizing when they speed down her chin and make you want to die die die.
she tends to bring the end to make the beginning more livid
god i love her
heart shaped kisses
i just really really really miss my mistress.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 9:19 AM UTC
1603
The going from a world we know
To one a wonder still
Is like the child’s adversity
Whose vista is a hill,
Behind the hill is sorcery
And everything unknown,
But will the secret compensate
For climbing it alone?
6.3k
i smoke a little bud because i am drowning
take a shot of liquor because i am drowning
face it i aint sober because im drowning
everyone needs little relief to save them from drowning
i am drowning
drowning
government eats while the people are bleeding so they're drowning
system is shady wont compensate for the drowning
all alone with nothing to eat because we're drowning
the world is full of hatred so bitter we drown in it
we drowning
drowning
feed the homeless people because they drowning
where's our human rights because Africa is drowning
resuscitate all Africa because she is drowning
you'redrowning
drowning
we don't deserve the sanctions because we are drowning
maintaining your pollution so we drown in it
we can't stop drowning
drowning
we crave stability because we're drowning
still fighting for equality because we're drowning
give me back my identity and prevent me from drowning
diminishing the role of an African Queen to watch her drowning
drowning
drowning
stand up for ubuntu because abantu is drowning
Jun 18, 2021
Jun 18, 2021 at 10:46 PM UTC
every train going out
leaves behind so much grief of separation.
no arriving train brings,
enough sunshine to compensate it
Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 11:30 PM UTC
Balance,
Is that not what life is?
Balance,
Between virtues and vices?
If you begin to contemplate
You'd realize..
You're will not, to compensate.
Not when it's your life
You'd save, no matter the lie
Would you work for a greater good?
Or rather, keep warm inside your hood?
For the wonderful music to play,
For the high life,
For a better taste
For this, would you be able to tip the scale?
For you to succeed
For others to fail
*IMbalance,*
Is that not what life is?
Where good for one,
Is to adopt your vices
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 12:32 AM UTC
you used to come home loudly in the dark but
quietly in the day we’d be together
to compensate
we were only in love on Halloweens
you in those hundred dollar costumes worth two
in material and tiny fingers
**** rats and ER surgeons
to me with a pop-culturally relevant ******* mask
Frankenstein (to the dumb dudes that go to these things)
that chisels me like a jell-o mold
that blurs her infinitely beautiful walking-away
the blooming glances pairing parting lips to talk ********
caking the ***** reeling in our heads
winding round the spindle hooked tight
pulling my hard-hat plastic-green face
to the windmill
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 3:02 AM UTC
.#metoboot.
X O X
O X O
X X O
who the ****
was i supposed
to be calling?
#: but there's no
phone-number
and there's no
telephone...
let me just call up
a trend...
a meme...
funny funny...
not so funny...
it's still amazing
how existence drags
essence along with itself...
and that
essence is neither
a priori, nor a posteriori,
to compensate
existence,
being neither of the two.
since why should
existence be a priori
to essence,
or why essence
should be a posteriori
to existence...
oh... wait...
why essence should be
a posteriori to existence?
that part...
so why does the notion
of knowledge exist,
or the fact that some
100 year old old ****
gives life advice
about how he has
a 20 year old lover,
and he shoots a down trip
of ***** of 1cl
each day?
it's still a drag experience,
no, not Brighton drag queens...
existence drags essence
into its ontological conclusion...
mors mater...
muttertod...
matka śmierć...
mother death;
and? last time i heard?
she's the ultimus virgo,
she's the (do you couple
adverbs with verbs,
or verbs with nouns
in german? can you couple
adverbs with verbs?
ah... ad- Latin prefix:
toward... sure... an adverb
+ a verb sounds better than
an adverb + noun) hence?
letzemaljungfrau,
ostatnia niewiasta,
the last (or the lasting) ******
she can't exactly fake
******* over someone
to a dead pulp of prior to
tadpole whipped / egg white
cream.
*
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 12:27 PM UTC
Locked away in a tower in the middle of a forest
since the age of twelve
Hidden from the public eyes for years
Beautiful Rapunzel was imprisoned
A binding promise made
To compensate for the sin of his father
who stole for love
Rapunzel's life was completely shut
a couple of times in a day
she only came to light
only to let her golden long hair down
through a tiny window that connected her caged like world
to the bright world outside
upon a call from the enchantress
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, please let your long hair down for me"
Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair,
and the enchantress climbed up to her
Many years have passed
nobody knew of Rapunzel's existence
The dragging years
Too little sunlight
The magnificent hair of Rapunzel
became weak and thin
Once it was the strongest ladder
but The enchantress fell in the thorny garden
in an attempt to climb up the tower
Rapunzel's hair no longer lustrous and strong
Waiting for a brave prince for too long
Till the hair is tired and the waits prolonged....
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 1:43 PM UTC
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is being told to pass on the pumpkin pie
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is being scrutinized over everything you ingest
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is being met with questions no matter what you eat or don't eat
"Have some more potatoes, Sarah"
"Haven't you had enough yet?"
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is a double standard wrapped up
In a pretty floral bow
Just like the cornucopia in the table's center.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is a broken tradition fixated not on giving thanks
But on her every movement in regards to her plate
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is only eating half her helping
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is throwing up each and every bite of it
Into a porcelain garbage bin exactly thirteen minutes later
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is perfecting a purge
Stand up and lean
Time it just right
Dry heave first.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is the second to last time she sees her grandpa
And she cannot even focus on family
Because this disease has intertwined itself into the crevices of her mind
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is her worst nightmare and her favorite holiday
For she is constantly under surveillance
But no one questions her habits that day
So she is free to be sick as often as she likes.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is counting every calorie
Knowing exactly how much she needs to compensate for every particle of food
Polluting her system.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving is shoving things into her body
And immediately wanting them out
While having the means to get rid of them.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving has always been shared with her alter ego,
Bulimia.
A fat girl's Thanksgiving has always been a paradox
Hopefully this year she will be able to go alone.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
When you are attacked by boredom
You are invited by devil's kingdom
In case you yield to the pressure
You stand to lose Divine pleasure
Every job will bore one at last
We must with dexterity outlast
Fun may be absent many times
Expected joy, soul never claims
None can win ever or lose always
All have surely their glorious days
When failure comes and attacks
A shrewd soul, prayer alone backs
After doing a particular work or task
We must ask for more and not bask
We must derive peace and celebrate
The Almighty is there to compensate
Let us make up our mind to hard-work
Surely our life will never at all go berserk
If our motto is to do duty with sincerity
Our mind is given by Heaven true clarity
Today, make up your mind to do the best
Do your portion skillfully by being honest
Rewards and results will stun your life
God will rescue you from every strife.
mvvenkataraman
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Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 8:32 AM UTC
Now upon Age my Ripe Lantern will give
The Rose of Thirty-Four for his Best Joy
Sister, the Token of my Purpose, live,
Brother, the Promise of a Knighted Boy
Which Rose, purple or red, will compensate
A Decade's Sin I rehearse to atone
Pride, one Raven crowed I pluck without Hate
And gently shift my Psalms for her Behold
How another Labour I justly Failed
Must submit to her Needs before my own
For me the Decoding Concept derailed
The Troll called Pity transforms your Heart to Gold.
You both planned to defer in New Year's Lift
Still for you both I sing this Sterling Gift.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:31 AM UTC
Peace or bliss or be it the happiness
without the human can these be found?
Be it the alluring nectar of the bliss could it
compensate for the loss of a loved one?
Blooming roses can delight the eyes
but what better could one have than
other than getting closer to the one
open heart company of a human being?
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 8:10 PM UTC
I know how hard you’re trying:
caught between what’s good and what’s right,
triangulated by compliance to a routine that leaves you restless.
You’ve spent your childhood dreaming of ‘somewhere else’
but now that you’re here, you dream again:
of ‘somewhere new.’
You can’t pin down a pilot,
and you’re a high flyer
with a heart for danger and full of desire
from the stardust in your veins
and the galaxies mirrored in your eyes.
You’re no Harry Potter--
their attention drives you wild,
craving counteraction to the demons that
followed you from your home planet
and have tainted your every breath.
*(he’s got stars in his smiles
that stretch like galaxies.
oh, god, you know what that means.)*
Like I said, you can’t pin down a pilot,
and you don’t want to be found.
You’ll push and push until your heart gives out,
compensate and retaliate by breaking the hearts that beat for you.
If you’re going down,
they will too.
You’re a beautiful disaster creating
new paths for strength to rise out of,
a beautiful disaster caught between cliffs and a hard place.
You wanted to touch down on every planet in your system,
but you never planned
on your engines failing.
You can’t pin down a pilot,
not until he’s crashing.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC
Loving someone is a confusing task.
Its that point of time when people don't really understand what they are upto.
Maybe its because, when we fall in love, we are not only driven by the modern world instincts, but also by traits which we've inherited from our earliest ancestors.
Its an amalgam of varying emotions resulting from numerous hormones.
We get involved in the act of love either to enrich out lives or to generate lives...its all logic.
However, the simplest act of expressing or explaining this strange feeling, appears to be a mammoth task for most.
We call it 'love' just like we call God 'God', but its just a verbal pronunciation for things we don't understand, for things which are much greater than just the words...
We say 'I love you' but we mean so much more, even the most beautiful poems cannot possibly explain it properly.
Hundreds of letters written by a lover cannot compensate for the lover in person,
10000 words cannot compensate for a simple gesture or an act of love.
Words are just sounds which transmit thoughts from one mind to the other,
But in order to touch the deepest core of the brain, which is the heart, one must go way beyond the thoughts, way beyond those 10000 words.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 2:40 PM UTC
I have a right to be hostile.
I have a right to place blame
to a person who has hurt me
in the "Lord's name".
I have a right to hate
when my people are scared.
You are supposed to serve and protect
and yet, your weapons are aimed where?
I have a right to shout
in the face of your ignorance.
Because just me being alive
is a ******* political statement.
Being a decent human
is not something to congratulate.
Be decent because that is human,
not because you must compensate.
Don't force me into a box
and say I cannot escape.
**** the paths of this forked road
I choose my own fate.
Adding pressure to silence
will only turn us into diamonds,
because in our hard-earned victory
we'll sparkle and be shinin'.
There are too many of our voices,
we're impatient, that much is clear.
We're angry not because we want to be,
but because we refuse to live in fear.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 2:31 AM UTC
the catholic nurse
all sensitive
caring noticing
everything
what can she think
of my hot/cold torment
always near blowing it
living in the fast lane
so friendly kind
the girls
dewy eyed
wanda abandoned me
bolton is in my hands
and yet my coldness
hurts
the more emotional
they stay
trying to find a reason
for my ice-like suspicion
fish eyes
coldly indifferent eyes
suspect everything that moves
socialising just to be loud
compensate for cold
lack of essential trust
warmth
i love them
despite myself
my desire to love
is unconscious and gigantesque
i never know
when i'm going to miss someone
strange coldness perplexing
i've got to work to get devotion
but once i get it
i really get people on my side
there are my people
who can survive
my shark-like coldness
and there are those
who want something
more personal
i can be very devoted to those
who can stay the course
my soul is aching
for an impartial love of people
i'm at war with myself.
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 4:21 AM UTC
Shrouded in deep purple fear and billowing clouds of crimson shame,
I sat on the floor, a trembling moth in still air.
I swallowed. The taste of bile remained.
My warmth flowed out of my body into the icy bathroom tiles, escaping rapidly through cracks in my split-open soul.
She sat beside me, quiet, waiting.
After an eternity, I nodded to her with a shaky breath.
She helped me gently off the floor and guided me to her bed, tucking herself behind me to become my tight cocoon.
With my head rested against her chest, I heard her blood pounding through her, but her breaths were slow, controlled.
The fibers of my muscles remained tense, straining to compensate for my spirit - raw, exposed, vulnerable.
Her small, soft fingers ran through my tangled hair,
drips of golden honey appearing as she began to hum.
Her radiant honey oozed from the smooth, full notes of her voice and dripped between sharp fragments of my shattered porcelain.
The clock tutted at us from the wall, approaching the third hour of morning, but she held my shards together tenderly and unhurried.
The fight drained from me as she sang her sweet melody.
A puddle of purple and crimson beneath me. Pieces, tenderly held.
Her pure, glimmering honey meandered through my etched cracks and between my too-prominent ribs to replace my purple and crimson.
She sang the life back to me, held me together with her sturdy grace.
She waited as the liquid gold began to solidify and I began to feel closer to whole once more.
She - who loves me laughing, who loves me dancing - loves me messy, too.
Mar 22, 2022
Mar 22, 2022 at 6:17 PM UTC
I was raised in a house that seemed big on the inside
With a garden that was larger than the rest of the earth.
My bedroom was shared. But there was more than enough room.
So proportionally, I always felt small.
The curtains were vines in a furniture jungle
The bookcase a tower of riddles.
I used to spend my days inside the wardrobe
Because I heard there were whole worlds inside of them.
The sofa was a cloud, I liked to sink into it.
The bathtub an ocean, that I was constantly floating adrift in.
The TV screen might as well have been
A stage compared to me when I was younger.
Even the cupboard was a cavernous place, my sparrowbone limbs
Would fold up only slightly, but still there would always be too much space.
Space blank as a bullet hole
Like the gaps between stars.
An absence you're constantly falling through. When you're so tiny,
And surrounded by nothingness, its easy to forget that you're not nothing too.
I was compressed in the classroom behind a scrawl splattered desk
The lines of graffiti looked mammoth.
The teachers were giants
And I was just jack
They ground up my brains to make alphabet stew
And gave me only a handful of A, B's and C's back.
The playground was Olympus, I was acting atlas
I felt as though the whole world was on my shoulders.
See I was a really loud kid, always shouting out
Because I thought that was the only way to get anyone to hear me.
Lungs like an opera singer by the age of just nine
And in the habit of using embellishment.
I've been where you've been kid,
I've seen it all.
I know exactly how the sight of a bullies hand-down button-up
Can be enough to make you choke...
Sometimes it still is enough.
And I know I don't look so tiny now
I expanded as I grew more constricted.
Trying to compensate for the empty place,
I had made a habit of occupying.
See I understand, I know
But I promise you, one day you'll stop standing under things
Find your feet and grow.
The leaves of your family tree do not define
Who you'll be
You do not have to hold up those branches all alone.
And I know I look so small right now
But in here, in here
I'm mammoth.
And I promise the world is not so nothing filled
When everyone is giant.
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 3:18 PM UTC
Life gets tough when you aren't around.
Without none of the things you have to offer.
So much as the ease of a smile.
But what I love most about it.
I am not embarrassed or afraid to admit that it's the most powerful element.
At which point the sun shines it's brightest.
The highlight of my day.
We give our words with meaning that follows the philosophy our bodies react.
Naturally.
We enrich this belief.
Sharing our hopes.
Our dreams.
An intellect that requires what we find precious.
Time loses ego.
We relate without rush.
A fear we occupy our time with selfishness.
The things we use to compensate and further hide ourselves.
Being able to admit the things we otherwise keep hidden.
To travel the recesses of mind we lay bare.
The baritone which not only grasps attention but intent.
In full intimacy.
The way we came into the world.
Not beginning to know or further define the things we hide.
We cry not for attention but understanding.
We tend to go through transitional periods not out of hurt.
But to appreciate that we never take this simplicity for granted.
Without you, I admit.
Life gets tougher.
But it's these exact moments I hope to earn.
The sensuous moment time loses ego.
Not in war but in ultimate expression of the time it takes to love you.
It's gonna take years
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 3:13 PM UTC
Don't you think it's strange
When the countries claim to support
Multiculturalism and diversity
But so on people go on to say
The food you eat is gross
It's fine, no need to say it
If they offer you some, then simply reject it
What happened to acceptance and tolerance
When all they seems to compensate for are
Western food, do you not feel this way?
There are plenty more;
The cloth you wear is strange, let them be hijab, burka and so many more
The religion you follow is weird, let them be Sikhs, Jains and so many more
I don't like your ethnicity, let them be Chinese, Muslim and so many more
I don't like your gender identity, let them be female, transgender and so many more
I don't like your ****** identiy, let them be gay, lesbian and so many more
We are the minority and always under-represented within majority
Feeling like stifled, palms sweaty as we know we have target behind out back
Identity we have and must continue to protect
For that's what makes who we are
But to which standard are we conforming to?
To which standard are we assimilating to?
(why don't you fill in the blank, as plenty people knows,
western rules and the majority are cruel)
They said we had free will, a human right from democracy
But societal pressure comes and claim the right to express culturally
So I ever so hate the country and the people
For all the promises seem to turn out to be broken
People cry out for them to go back to their original countries
when they have just like others, earned their right to stay
when they have no place to go back to, only in their head
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 11:19 PM UTC
It's Funny how such Energy persist
When the Fourth Great Angel told me to Prud,
Staking Green Papers for her to insist
And see whether I behave or becrud
Even when the Situation intensed
By the Fallen One a Coward-for-Words
She took the Shield; And gave a Good Defense,
Plucking Feathers dearly in Screams they heard
You are the Heroine mostly Admire
In Duty latest Feelings compensate
Seven Wings drop by, waiting for Desire,
The Good Kind which all Good Women must take.
Wait for the other Four whilst keeping Knots
As the Boy in Blue Trunks took his Time forgot.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 6:55 AM UTC
Confide in me
the irony
of laughter as a crutch to keep
with self descriptive Bildungsroman
in view of Schadenfreude's Ad hominem
Mask the image, compensate, compensate
Power struggle, shift division, relegate, relegate
Egocentric discharges inhabited by identity crisis
Circumstantial Deus ex machina, plastered on by streams of vices
No wreck, no head on, but a path beset by tolls and diversions
Somehow I must find a way to make these scattered routes converge
Dead and othered language roams the fields of pomposity
More ironic self aggrandizement, an appropriation of ferocity
Paint them a picture in the mind's eye of your blurred forward vision
I want to see the target marked, but attention is a competition
I'm Viable, I'm Jovial, I have the means to take these chances
I'm lying now, it's one or the other, let's hope I make the right advances
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
My mother tells me that we will
Never be friends.
Today I believe it.
Love poisons our blood
And familiarity kills
conversation.
I look at her emotionlessly
So to block her influence.
She is an expert at exploiting
The slightest ****** waver,
Or any emotional advantage she
Could have over you.
She will make you wrong
Through verbal martyrdom.
I won't let her speak to me
Like she does the weak who
Are too polite or too submissive
To fight her.
Her style of English is cutting,
Self-righteous, honest, rude, unscientific, emotional, aggressive and often violent.
Never elegant.
She thinks the world is a battleground.
She is often incompetent and on top of that headstrong - to compensate for her ignorance.
She is sometimes funny, and sometimes kind.
She tells me we will never be friends.
Today I believe it.
I will not confide. I will not smile.
I will not joke, I will not listen.
I will help but I won't speak.
I will keep the talk small.
We will never be friends.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC