"condescendingly" poems
I pride myself on differences,
but know at heart we're all one
I tried to do the dishes,
but only two knives made the cut.
Now I wonder if I can
accomplish more than thought possible
judging dull wounds in grunting cans;
feeling pistol grooves and wrist slitters,
I am at home again.
Lying, mining, dying figure heads
make their way to the foot of my bed,
and ask if they may lull me to sleep
with dreams of pneumonia and epilepsy.
I ask them to politely leave,
but they perch on boasting names of society,
reciting to me, too condescendingly,
"surely, we know better than you."
Now all of their heads fit askew.
Save the money and excuse for material attachment.
Keep running through your doll houses.
I pull on my hair to make it grow.
You pull on heart strings to teach a lesson, I suppose
we're in the same sinking boat.
But you are my vital poison.
My body collapses- a muted a noise and-
each time I awake perfectly poised
at your feet and frozen mouth.
How will I ever make you love me now?
Life's a Hawaii postcard
pleading, "go experience the vibrant colors."
There's more to see beyond the rainbow trees,
but they'll still satisfy most cravings.
Every threaded fiber of my being
keeps me pondering
if cells are just too shy to speak,
or if they've always spoken through me,
whispering, "scratch to win the lottery."
I want to write children's books,
and release doves from hidden cages;
watch awe wipe over next generation;
use my candies as their safe haven.
Away this world that have caused them pain-
I Am its new name.
Affection is a mistress of mine.
I still crave her like sunlight.
stare into her eye until I am blind
She's addicting even after she harms you.
I'll keep my heals neck deep
in anxiously wading water.
til I sing it into deep sleep,
its current pulls me under.
and I am at home again.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 9:05 AM UTC
I have never heard grey more grey
then the words which you say to me so
condescendingly.
Never endingly.
Black and white means naught
in a world of (k)nots and (flattened) cans.
And dressed up in blue, you’re always beautiful.
But crude and **** we stand in the sun;
every pockmark illuminated, tungsten bright.
The light of night to never shine again against
the delicate steel door that closes like your hand
around the flitting, panicked moth.
Magnesium smiles and pain pill duplicity,
the simplicity of a (remote) controlled world.
I am trapped between the clean street signs
and the signs of a dead language.
Where is the line of your back and what
is the time?
Have I lost the only things that
made me sigh with relief?
(Who is the real thief?)
Jun 18, 2010
Jun 18, 2010 at 11:21 AM UTC
Thou art so conniving
You conspire to purge me of my sense of reasoning
Leaving me bare to suffer the perils of an incongruous world
Belittled by all and sundry
Or how else do you explain a scenario where
The words I am sorry are too heavy a spittle
To be spoken to a loved one to whom I’ve wronged
Severing a lifelong relation in the process
Could be am being too hard on you
And that you are so patronisingly benevolent
Condescendingly overseeing my rise up the social ladder
Trouncing and prancing on the shrewd and their kind
Either way I salute your ingenuity
Indeed keep up the uncanny spectacle.
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 7:01 AM UTC
Jean Chevalier was
A Parisian man.
He led a simple life,
He had no big plan.
'La Résistance'
In took he part,
He felt it was right
In his Parisian heart.
The German soldier smirked,
Strapped in his ranks,
He looked down at Jean
And fantasised war tanks.
Jean was stuck in the métro
Since about half past three,
His stomach was aching,
A cigarette needed he.
The German Soldier, however,
Breaking the 'law',
Lit one up and
Opened his enormous jaw.
His pink, beefy face
Took a long drag,
Jean clung to his country,
Clung to his flag.
Jean gasped for a cigarette,
The soldier saw in his eyes.
But Jean managed yet
To stay dignified.
The soldier whips out a fresh one,
For Jean, condescendingly.
But without batting an eyelid,
Jean declares:
"Non, Merci."
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 2:03 PM UTC
So there I saw-
and then I curled
into my fetal ball of envy
my happiness had coagulated
and chilled
like a refrozen popsicle
at the back of the freezer.
even if you melted
my
stale
cracked
enclosure
you would still smell
the jealous-
like
hangover
on my breath
I swear it even
exploits my muscles
my tendons grimace
like massive internal
pulley systems.
when my mind
frowns condescendingly
at my juvenile grievances,
the follies laugh their
disassembled modulations
and ignore my pleas
no-it takes more than that.
my every yellow Laureling
becomes a necessity
to coax, soften my
serpentine
charity
from whence I have locked it.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 2:31 AM UTC
You're not really a baby, no more than I am an adult at 20.
I'm struggling to find the words to tell you that I understand.
I have been where you are.
I went through those days and nights when it felt like the world was against me.
Oh the nights were worse than the days, nothing like the ticking of a clock to make you feel alone.
Growing up isn't easy, kids at school are cruel and dumb.
I coped the way you're coping too.
Turned my body into a canvas in which I only painted with red.
Hid behind hoodies and long sleeved shirts.
Told mom and dad white lies about my newly painted "artwork".
So I'm not just some concerned family member condescendingly saying that I understand, I actually do.
I have fought that battle, and some days I still do.
I've been stuck in that darkness, felt the need to open myself up to fight my demons.
But baby brother, opening yourself up, painting those canvases will only win battles, and only for so long.
It takes family to really win that war.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
Good friend,
You held my hand when I grew weary,
You held my hand when I grew teary,
As I scraped my knee,
And it began to bleed,
You grew nauseous,
I grew cautious,
And only just moved out of the way,
Of the lunch you had today.
Ew,
That was gross,
You,
Proudly boast,
It was like two feet!
I condescendingly reply,
Yeah...real neat.
(I kind of lie)
But you knew,
Right away,
You saw through,
Without say,
And before I knew what happened,
Pillow in my face, close captioned;
KA-POW!!!
For the hearing impaired,
As I politely tossed you down the stairs,
But you wouldn't dare go,
Without a handful of my hair,
A smile on your face,
You stay in my good grace,
As we stand together in explanation,
To your mother about the breaks and lacerations,
Truly,
We shocked her,
But not quite as much,
As the nurse,
Or the doctor.
I loved our quarter-dimensional world,
I pray you find this poem in good grace,
And continue to let your crazy mind unfurl.
Aug 3, 2010
Aug 3, 2010 at 2:39 AM UTC
mon amour
our innocence
moved in uncertainty
like our body moves, beautifully
in unnatural way
our tears of pain
and happiness
blend in our sweats
(when our body is bent
our heart is spent)
my tongue is strong
like the tip of your toe
as its slices the flesh
down your neck
like a velvet rag
wiping away your shame
blotting it out completely
as from the memory
your low, sustained cries
are music to my ears
like a cascading tutu, gasping
like waterfalls over steep rocks
pushing me
beyond any boundaries
made by man
even by gods
(and i felt your body quiver
like a wild circus at the
birth of the night)
my love, my prima ballerina
you are hysterical
evolving weightlessly
on my skin, whispering
into my pores
telling a story in each curve
conquering yet refined
and here i am, a criminal
condescendingly proud
taking justice into my hands
for only by these hands
could i bring justice
to our love, to our lust
to our soul
(and you pull me down
down to complete nothingness
where everything doesn't matter
and all that matters is nothing)
and together we dance
you and i
ever so gracefully
to that hopeful spotlight
hoping for the endless
hoping for eternity
but euernity has to end
only to begin again
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 10:07 PM UTC
When I was younger I had an elder friend of mine
Named Denise Davidson
I asked her “why do some older folks
Like to put down younger people
She dropped a knowledge bomb on me
She said that adults have been torn down
By life and that’s why they try to tear you down sometimes
She also told me that I shouldn’t allow anyone to put me down
No matter whom it is, even if it is the President of the United States
Those words are forever tattooed on my heart
Even in my late twenties I still deal with haters
Trying to sabotage my blessings
They try to use me like I’m a slave
And when I confront them about an issue
They talk to me: condescendingly like I’m stupid,
Or say that I’m crazy, or they blame me for their shortcomings
But now instead of me acting ignorant by: cussing people out,
Hold my anger in till I blackout and forgot what I did, or threaten to **** somebody
I get even by doing better - by proving myself right
My mentor told me when people show you trash you show them class
So I get even by having integrity in my actions
Cause all those negative people want is to see me stuck in the same place
Stuck in a worse situation than them
Because it makes them feel good about themselves
And it makes their life look better than mine
Because misery isn’t happy unless it has company
By Shannon Pollard
©Summer 2013
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 7:48 PM UTC
Her eyes painted blue by the majestic force above
So true, yet unreal
What the ethereal land holds, we would never know
Maybe more nymphs like her,
With gold, sun-sprayed hair and her miraculously soft skin
And the breeze of icelandic air, brought in every time she paced
Her bosoms sprang like two, upside down crescent moons,
Dragging young men and older boys who understands, along her way
Her arms graceful like angels' wings, more graceful than mine
Ah, me.
Let's not talk about my forgetful self,
I get lost in my own mind thinking about the boy that she wants,
The boy that could soar higher than eagles
A masculine figure, too good for myself?
Am I so undeserving that the icelandic nymph smiles so condescendingly?
Is she spinning the biggest web of lies to defeat this human being, myself?
Is she genuine in her thoughts,
Or is she deceitful to her own holy kind?
Oh, talk about holyness!
The only unholy one out of the hundreds, those suitors
I wish I was only a teardrop,
only so meaningless
I wish I was only a shadow,
only so obscure
I wish I was so big,
only too big to be unseen
Or maybe I wished she was the one like me.
Yet I'm still human, mortal, and defeated by her beauty.
Aug 23, 2010
Aug 23, 2010 at 7:47 AM UTC
I confide in her
Stuttering slurring
“I-i t-think I may sort of i-love ….. him”
Condescendingly emotionless
She says
“Yeah I believe it”
This is old news to her
New to me only
“But I don’t want to”
I whine
Hoping she looks in my eyes
Sees my fear
The Terror
That racks my mind
She smiles
I don’t know I she saw it
“That why its called
Falling
Not
Jumping
Sweetie
And I know you aren’t afraid of heights
Just of falling”
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
"It wasn't your fault"
The words follow me wherever I go;
inked into the many pages of a torn journal,
etched bloodily into the flesh of my arms.
Haunting me endlessly and echoing inside my mind in bursts of staining black.
"Why do you hurt yourself?"
I want to scream an answer to this question,
yet I never do, I never will.
I don't have the answer they want.
Yet my mouth wants to spit the venomous words out at them.
My tongue, however, is empty of the truth.
I smile condescendingly at their horrified faces, doing whatever I can to escape.
"Just be a good girl and everything will be fine"
Can you not understand?
I'm not good.
I'm bad, tainted,
my very essence
poisoned and corrupted.
Don't touch me.
I'll contaminate you.
Just stay away, keep an image in your head of me, smiling, happy, innocent.
Never come close enough to look past my mask, and then everything will be okay.
I don't want anyone to put me back together again, I deserve to be shattered.
"You don't understand!"
How many times have I heard that?
Too many to count.
Being misunderstood is part of me,
when people finally understand
, their empathy will eventually turn to pity
I can't stand it, hate would be easier to tolerate than sadness.
Don't be sad for me, be sad for yourself,
you're much more important than I'll ever be.
Just leave me alone, if you get too close to me I'll hurt you.
Somehow, I will.
I will kick my way around you,
until you have no other option but to loathe me.
But I deserve it.
I always break everything,
it's now my turn to be broken.
"It's not your fault."
Sure, keep saying that while you're 'holding' me.
I know you don't mean it.
But I'll nod my head like the doll I should be,
as if I believed you. I'll just go along with it.
The need to make me feel pure, good…
shut out all the other signs.
My hands can't stop shaking,
the cuts I inflict upon myself are pale white yet swollen.
The scars are reminders of how I deserve pain,
and the hideous ecstasy that comes along with it.
But just ignore them, I don't want you to know anyway.
Keep repeating those words to yourself, over and over again, trying to reassure me
I'll just sit there and nod soundlessly.
Watch me smile the way you want me to as I repeat it back to you.
I'm blameless. It’s not my fault.
You won't even notice the lie behind the words………
blameless…
shameless…
faultless….
guiltless…
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 9:40 PM UTC
Abortifacient corrupted water an insects legs making waves
Curtains of androgyny tie their bows around stifled faces
While blades of grass make fantastic ***********
Up rolling hills toward a forest of ivory condescendingly proud
With taunting whispers
The bone white limbs casting divination wistful for panacea
In the chipped teeth sinking into rotting roots of futures unseen
Mistaking aphrodisiac for apotrophic In the ithyphallic decoction
Of anthropomorphic rhizomes peelling in substitute dreams
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 4:33 AM UTC
this morning, i could not get one breath in edgewise
as she stuck her nose in the air and told me condescendingly
how parroted prayer and mass-market worship got her closer to god
and i had to clench my teeth
to refrain from telling her
i prefer the nine inch nails version of
that.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC
"It wasn't your fault” The words follow me wherever I go; inked into the many pages of a torn journal, etched bloodily into the flesh of my arms. Haunting me endlessly and echoing inside my mind in bursts of staining black.
"Why do you hurt yourself?" I want to scream an answer to this question, yet I never do, I never will. I don't have the answer they want. Yet my mouth wants to spit the venomous words out at them. My tongue, however, is empty of the truth. I smile condescendingly at their horrified faces, doing whatever I can to escape.
"Just be a good girl and everything will be fine” Can you not understand? I'm not good. I'm bad, tainted, my very essence poisoned and corrupted. Don't touch me. I'll contaminate you. Just stay away, keep an image in your head of me, smiling, happy, innocent. Never come close enough to look past my mask, and then everything will be okay. I don't want anyone to put me back together again, I deserve to be shattered.
"You don't understand!" How many times have I heard that? Too many to count. Being misunderstood is part of me, when people finally understand, their empathy will eventually turn to pity. I can't stand it, hate would be easier to tolerate than sadness. Don't be sad for me, be sad for yourself, you're much more important than I'll ever be. Just leave me alone, if you get to close to me I'll hurt you. Somehow, I will. I will kick my way around you, until you have no other option but to loathe me. But I deserve it. I always break everything, it's now my turn to be broken.
"It's not your fault." Sure, keep saying that while you're 'holding' me. I know you don't mean it. But I'll nod my head like the doll I should be, as if I believed you. I'll just go along with it. The need to make me feel pure, good… shut out all the other signs. My hands can't stop shaking, the cuts I inflict upon myself are pale white yet swollen. The scars are reminders of how I deserve pain, and the hideous ecstasy that comes along with it. But just ignore them, I don't want you to know anyway. Keep repeating those words to yourself, over and over again, trying to reassure me I'll just sit there and nod soundlessly. Watch me smile the way you want me to as I repeat it back to you. I'm blameless. It’s not my fault.
You won't even notice the lie behind the words………
Blameless…shameless…faultless….guiltless…
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
Oh, Rizal, hear our plea
For in our country's reality
The corrupt grow more powerful
As the elders become boastful
Pinned down condescendingly
By others buzzing like bees
With this ignorance that doesn't die
We feel that we can only try
But we will fight even as we cry
Our voices put down, may it never be pried
Away from the truth, we are shied
Now await our pent-up battle cry
We will march along the over-trodden streets
Along with the sound of where our hearts beat
For justice and for fairness
We bear your wish with gladness
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 4:55 AM UTC
mom was on "password" once
i saw a rerun of the program
the other day
on the game show channel
peter lawford
kept feeding her
bad clues
he looked at her
condescendingly
but i suspect
she was too entranced
by his bushy eyebrows
and **** smile
to even notice
i didn't really like
his smirk
when she kept guessing wrong
and then
when his clue was "passion"
she giggled
he winced
i laughed out loud
sitting there
in my disheveled living room
rain pounding
on the awning
the dog asleep
on my lap
magazines piled high
at my feet
my mother's laughter
lighting the room
like a lovely luminous ghost
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 12:58 PM UTC
Hanging condescendingly above the door
She stared at the stern cuckoo clock
The minute hand silently creeping
Urging the hour hand to its destination
The second hand an evil judge
Its ticking a constant reminder
Of time’s inevitable march forward
And the journey that lay ahead of her
She wasn’t sure which one she hated more
She knew that when the small figurines
Emerged from their dark hiding place
To waltz their waltz
As they did every hour of every day
She would have to leave
And she didn’t know when she would return
And so as much as she hated the clock
It’s jolly song a mockery of her decision
She knew that ultimately leaving was her choice
And that she would miss the **** cuckoo clock
Hanging condescendingly above the door
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
I believe
one can state
one's own perspective
or inform someone
without doing so
condescendingly
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 10:19 PM UTC
Lie down
He’ll encourage
let me
He’ll say
how was your day?
He’ll ask me
Fine,
I’ll say
She wants more and so do I
Let me go
I’ll shout
Calm down
he’ll soothe
condescendingly
All I want is to be able to fly
without having to let go
or say goodbye
he doesn’t get that I’m screaming
he doesn’t get I’m not worth it
He doesn’t want better if better isn’t
me.
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 6:22 PM UTC
Dear Generation X,
Please take a step or fifteen back,
if that is what it takes to make you see
that some of you are thoroughly misjudging me.
Dear Generation X,
Please stop sh-tting on me when you
see me in a low-paid job because you
think that I'm uneducated, when in fact I'm
earning my own money to help fund my education.
Dear Generation X,
Please don't patronise me every
time I raise my voice with an opinion
of my own, prepared to eloquently argue
up against others more than twice my age, restraining my
own temper so that I remain polite, whilst condescendingly
you reply with "you're a little brat" who should "f-ck off and find her manners."
Dear Generation X,
Please refrain from moaning about
how the youth of today's generation
never have anything intelligent to say
when you place gags in our mouths, or that we're all too thick-skulled
and should go back to school, whilst simultaneously shouting at
us all to "get a job" and "buy a house", when many of us are drowning
in student loans, granted for gaining the knowledge needed to bag a "decent job."
Dear Generation X,
Stop trapping me.
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 12:43 PM UTC
Have you ever felt your body is a cage?
And that the world is your prison?
That from the rising of your age
Your life's value has not once risen?
Fighting thought, resisting existing's cage
And ascertain your ambitions becomes moral outrage
So to keep yourself safe you keep your words from the page
And declare yourself nothing, so as to act nothing on the stage
If this is true for you, then I pity thee
Much as I solipsistically feel pity for me
buti mean this not condescendingly
I mean it sympathetically, perhaps more empathetically
For I too have felt the same, all the time somehow
But shift from it, with tenacity, and free yourself now.
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 11:02 AM UTC
I need a kiss or at least a hug
someone to hold me tight
and say its all going to be alright.
or even a quick
I love you honey.
the kids are sick again
the dogs got fleas
my husband is moaning
his dinner is cold.
I mess up the tv remote
he laughs condescendingly
and fixex it in a heartbeat
I want to dump the lot of them
and run away to live in the islands
The next day I get splashed
by a rude driver
mud all over my new coat.
is this all there is?
But just as I reach
the point of despair.
I pass a dress shop window
full of size zero manequins
with skinny superior looks.
All dressed in designer dresses.
And i see my reflection.
My hair wild and free
flowing in the breeze.
I look fantastic
the great woman
my mom brought up.
the woman I want to be.
She is fantastic
awesome.
I smile and wave at her.
and shout silently.
I remember you honey.
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 6:20 AM UTC
He kissed me,
and it felt like
he was
trying
to eat me alive (not
in a good way)
and when he asked
condescendingly
if that was my first time
his words were
a handful of rocks flung
with a mouthful of laughter
to lessen the sting.
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 2:41 AM UTC