"condoned" poems
I'm living in my mind,
walking a road I have paved.
Listening to the pounding,
of my heart that can't be saved;
an empty hole I had caved,
long before my journey started,
long before my hope strained.
Waiting for a fleeting step,
wishing for a second thought,
but still emptiness lurks,
where the love had fought,
from how the voices talked.
I'm waiting for a different place,
of what my mind is not.
A saddened memoir,
that spoke forgotten loss.
I'm falling deeper down,
where all the pain was washed,
and the guilt caught.
In a hidden valley of emotion,
of punishing thoughts.
Still I'm walking onward;
following the road.
People told me to hold caution,
for it should not be condoned.
I can't call it my own,
because this road that I am taking,
can never be my home--
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 3:54 PM UTC
Sensation, intuition, feeling, and thinking,
Is wrapped inside a ball,
A small pink ball inside our head,
That won't stop till we're dead,
Analytical bedrock inside oozing theories,
Elemental atoms sizzling logic,
The imaginative stranger,
One abstracted and eccentric,
Walking with shadows,
Talking and mocking,
Through these theories inside us,
Tilting our caps ‘til we’re shaking our heads,
Pensive love in storming analysis,
Sapiosexually excited, piqued interest,
Unemotional and thoughtfully attuned,
Absently minded, always condoned,
Unconventional and impartially stringed,
Weirdly wired in auxiliary functions,
Misconstrued and misunderstood,
An ****** intelligence bleeding paranoia,
Knocking unto me,
Into you, inside us all,
It’s something we all yearn to be,
And when you fail and prevail we laugh,
Crickling crickets thinking nothing,
Washing down the storm drain,
With no thoughts fluidly sliding down my throat,
Pop goes no questions into absolute concise words like freshly broken glass,
Again shadows await, but different shadows,
Blinking at me staring at you,
Wondering what’s what, inside this dementia made sense of a lovely afternoon,
Inside your sane, autocorrected, predetermined, twitching, little…mind.
Inspired by Myers Briggs Personality Test
Tyler is INTP... Logician (Introverted INtuitive Thinking Perception)
The drifter, dreamer the absent minded professor!
SassyJ is INTJ... Architect (Introverted INtuitive Thinking Judging)
The starry-eyed idealist manoeuvring life as if a giant chess board!
What Myer Briggs personality type are you?... See link below
It would be great to know.Please comment!!
http://www.16personalities.com/intp-personality
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
A timber night in a dark way can't stay for long
plowed down, scorched down - must be torn down
kings of city pipes, dusty concrete heirlooms, read a bible to sleep
Wake in the morning, sun rays shine through dust ridden books
Morals, condoned in heart shaped smoke clouds
Greed's arms will swell rejecting midnights' hiss' "Where will they live?"
'Sirrrrrrrr' 'Homeeee'...... Floating like gas particles, words lost.
A stand alone will die to unknown prosperity
ropes straggle helpless branches
Clenching their last breathes, the weeping skies sit silently
Hateful hateful hunger, feeding the bodies thirst
Our midnight Cowboy song goes: Manufactured green, leaving scorched earth barren, unwritten torch, unseen
For we saw what we wanted to.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 3:00 PM UTC
I was too young
Too young to know
That selling your soul
Is never condoned
By the angels above
or even demons in hell
Now as a misfit
In misery, I dwell
BUT my decision was
NOT made in hast
Instead, it determined
A sweet lover's fate
& if the angels above
Cannot understand
Then this sacrifice is one
I will gladly withstand
& with no hesitation
I’d quickly defend
That in the name of love
I’d do it again…
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 3:22 PM UTC
you get so used to something;
to someone;
never expect them to abandon you
though you condoned their departure
you saw it coming
it was all experienced yesterday
except, then
it was only a distant speck
you brushed away the dust you kicked up and
ignored the arguments that weighed on your conscience
you saw it coming
yet it still hits you like a freight train
with your back to it;
your earphones in
because you were trying to enjoy a walk
on such dangerous tracks;
such thin ice
you saw it coming
so what choice do you now have
but to finally collapse;
to let it run you over
and let your
omniscient bones
break?
you saw it coming,
but you let it hit you anyway.
please, get out of the way next time.
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 1:12 AM UTC
Here standing again
at the edge of the cliff,
struggling against the
force of the wind.
Drenched and cold,
thinking and wondering
what to do.
This is what I was seeking.
I wanted to feel the
storm in my bones.
Fearing what I want and
wanting what I fear.
Desiring and yearning for it,
yet distanced myself from it.
Never been more sure
about changing than now.
Angels are busy working and
trying to show visions
of heaven.
But here am I clawing the
ground trying to get hell for you.
Now I have to stop struggling,
for this striving and toiling are not
yielding desired fruits.
I'm so breathless from all this
going up and down
trying to make it work.
Rest is not so bad after all this
rigours of running around.
Dullness has taken over the heart
of one who suppose to rule.
Stagnation cannot be tolerated
and condoned or we all go down.
Change is needful urgently.
It is time for you to learn the balance.
I bring from the east,
I bring from the west,
I bring from the south,
I bring from the north
the power of balance.
It begins in the spirit.
We can balance anything.
Our voice, our work, our body.
You can even balance your sadness.
First you find patience.
Perhaps you will meet patience in this
sunlight and become good friends.
I will tell you again.
I will tell you again and again
until your inside knows.
It takes a long time to learn the art of balance.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 4:24 PM UTC
Eat till you're sick
Just as a big **** YOU** to this *****
This ***** inside my head
Who won't stop until I'm dead
She puts tape over my mouth
And a scale under my feet
Then the worst part is, she'll make you believe without a doubt
That she's doing you a good deed
Like she's doing this for you
But what she really does in fact
Is take your whole life and refuse to give it back
And just when you think you have a reprieve
Like you've actually escaped her spiny clutches
She yell at you that she'll never leave
And about how you've lost your muchness
Then you'll eat a little something
Just to show her who's boss
But then something turns to nothing
And you're obsessed by how much you've lost
This ***** will whisper snide comments at you all throughout the day
Pounding away at your self confidence so all that's left is self-hate
A high residual between who you are and who you ought to be and how the only thing standing in your way is all these ******* calories
She'll make you turn on things you once loved
Till food becomes the enemy and she turns you into something that only she loves
She'll tell you lots of things to get you seeing bones
But what she won't tell you is that her methods are never condoned
What she won't tell you is how she paints on your mirror at night
That way you see what she wants and not what's right
What she won't tell you is that she's just a scared little *****
Who's not even real
No, that ***** won't tell you that it's okay to have a meal
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
I will not attribute honor
to the bloodiest of games
to cold, condoned killings
faceless murders without blame.
War is to the green-clad
a state-sanctioned game
I will not call that thing honor
for which good men should feel shame.
Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 10:18 PM UTC
With blinders on they let the wrong go on
No interventions
No attempts to make it right
Look the other way
Not putting up a fight
They must kinda like it
You know
If trust were an *****
Then I’d say they’re looking for a donation
Another one to ***** up
Like cirrhosis of the liver
They’re lookin’ to corrupt another
Kinda a sick when you think about it
Acting as if nothing occurred
Forget that pain we condoned
It’s as if I’m a scapegoat, placed on throne
Smiles and chitchat are replaced suddenly
Each with a heavy rock and jagged stones
I emerge from the mess; still angry
I don’t fight, No I don’t get revenge
But I’m still angry
What do I do when I’m still angry
I want to cause pain
I want to get them close and turn my back
I want to be the one with the power and the patience
The push them to the brink and fill them with self doubt
But no, I don’t fight
I don’t get revenge
I just get angry.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 12:14 AM UTC
Unamused, abused, inflicted by I
Distractions, that keep my heavy eyes alive
*** drugs, deep conversations keep me fed
This feels as real as pretend, driven by others for fuel I don't have
This must be the end
Nah, I'll never die,
I'll continue to tell myself so I don't amend my habits
Embrace these teenage customs that feel so unique
They aren't, but that keeps me in synch
Willingly letting denial be a trait, a style of it's own
That will take me out one day, I already have condoned
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 1:21 AM UTC
My ancestors (i hesitate to even call them such)
came to this land centuries ago
they came with nothing
hoping to start a new life
but this is not about my proud heritage
not about immigrants following the
American Dream (Nightmare would be more accurate)
No
my ancestors
my White Anglo Saxon Protestant ancestors
descended upon this pristine landmass
like so many parasitic WASPs
injecting their prey (the people, the land) with venom
laying their eggs that would **** the hosts upon hatching
No
my ancestors
who helped perpetrate an ethnic cleansing
the likes of which 20th century fascists could only dream of
did so under the title of Manifest Destiny
divine right
their religion masking opportunistic genocide
No
my ancestors
laid the foundation
for the greatest country in the world
where ALL (White, English, Heteronormative, Cisnormative, Land-owning, Slave-Owning, Women Hating , Native-American-Murdering, Capitalistic, Perverted) MEN are created equal
No
my ancestors
partook in genocide
condoned slavery
oppressed women (and every other divergent identity)
destroyed the environment
and did so with such arrogance
such unheard of righteousness
No
my ancestors
were the lifeblood of America
the lifeblood of oppression
and that blood runs through my veins
the screams of American-Indian Warriors
of African Slaves
of Women labeled Witches and Gays and People of Color and anyone who opposed the hideous behemoth, anyone who dared to be different
their screams echo in my head
and i am ashamed
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
By Cedric McClester
How did it come to this
The people wanna know
We gave them asylum
Guess that just goes to show
Radical extremist
**** in the name of God
Men women and children
Because their hearts are hard
But if the motivation
Was to instill fear
They chose the wrong city
At least it would appear
So it's all right to sing along
Boston strong Boston strong
Yeah it's all right to sing along
Boston strong Boston strong
Long before Bunker Hill
Boston has shown its grit
Old Ironside is floating still
Cause it could take a hit
They might bend but they won't break
No matter what you do
They're Boston strong for heaven's sake
And now they know it too
But if the motivation
Was to instill fear
They chose the wrong city
At least it would appear
So it's all right to sing along
Boston strong Boston strong
Yeah it's all right to sing along
Boston strong Boston strong
It's a false religion
That has terror as its base
And I don't mean Muslims
I'm just trying to make my case
How could anyone believe
That violence is condoned
By God or any religion
That man has ever known
But if the motivation
Was to instill fear
They chose the wrong city
At least it would appear
So it's all right to sing along
Boston strong Boston strong
Yeah it's all right to sing along
Boston strong Boston strong
Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2014. All rights reserved.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 6:55 AM UTC
and my life fell apart before my eyes
crashed and burned at my feet
the pain wore a clever disguise
and in the end i accepted defeat
hold your tongue as i escape
i run away as always
my mind prolonging my fate
as my conscience wonders down empty hallways
i accepted but did not face
this sentence that is all my own
the loneliness i will hardly embrace
as it seems this is how im condoned
so i blame you and sometimes myself
but this is so adolescent
your only human, just yourself,
and now my only depressant.
Jan 25, 2010
Jan 25, 2010 at 11:29 AM UTC
Have you ever sat and wondered who gave man power over all?
Have you ever watched and thought man will cause it all to fall?
And if you sit in wonderment and fail to see my view
We have so little in common and Ill say goodbye to you.
The people of Hiroshima, when they realized their loss
In the name of new technology, were told to bear their cross
When our starving brothers begged with outstretched scrawny hands
Food began to mount and pile in other richer lands
The human life thats taken, without a struggle or a fight
Is condoned because abortion is a mothers given right
The ones that fight for justice are quickly locked in slime
Tortured by the oppressor, a punishment for their crime
When I see our battered children, so innocent and small
Its then I really wonder, who gave man power over all?
If you want to hear a lesser side, Ive plenty as you'l find
For mans intolerance and violence, to man is not confined
Man have caused the bulging eyes of a fox held in despair
as its body is slowly severed, by a cruel and ugly snare.
The sight of badger bating, has brought to many glee
Blinded by their takings, the suffering they cant see.
walking through our countryside, could cause your heart to shudder
At the sight of a baby rabbit with a meximatosis mother
If our graceful otter in his water bed is found,
they will hunt him to exhaustion, on his skin they see a £
On the hare with all its beauty, man will place a hearty bet,
before its torn apart, and left to die an agonizing death.
Our biggest shame, the ***** redcoats, on their bugles loudly hail,
They sleep with easy conscience, their prize, his bushy tail.
A bird of the wild is quiet common to find,
imprisoned to sooth mans warped and twisted mind.
To test our beauty products, animals live in pain,
although synthetic fibers if used would do the same.
I find it so disgusting, unnecessary and cruel
that animals go on suffering to improve the ugliness of the fool.
Take your beauty products and put them in the bin
and be assured young ladies, that beauty is within.
I could go on forever of the wrongs that man has done
I hope by now you realize its all for greed or fun.
When the book of mans achievements, is finally unveiled
The one that gave such power to man
Will see that man has failed!
Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 1:38 AM UTC
Passion comes like a home invasion leaving the walls whispering incessantly tiny inquiries that lack any true evidence invoking perturbatious uncertainty.You find your self endlessly pondering wondering if they appreciated or found quality in those little things that make people fall in love hopelessly.It's tiresome leaving one slightly disturbed plagued with persisting questions that ultimately elude one from themselves bewildered.You're either full of regret or feeling too pretentious caught up in some false sense of reality at times leading to changes in ones propriety.That is why we are all referred to as the young and the restless desperately trying to find ourselves as we slowly unravel the true life lesson.We search for assurance through another's eyes in need of acceptance even if it's merely a compelling lie so quick to deny ourselves truth.You must feel it on your own or you will remain condoned full of disappointment in the wake of true or imagined rejections and mortification.No matter what people do or say you must look within and find love without love a bullet proof brace.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC
Was life truly; ever so sweet,
As in the sun-worshipped, One World,
Beneath feathery banners, all unfurled,
Celebrated rhythm of the Mexica beat,
Applauding the gods with dancing feet,
While eagerly anticipating the final breath,
Of the honoured warrior’s, flowery death.
Lost ancient world, carved in stone,
Temples and plaza’s of grandiose plan,
Before the great pyramid of Tenochtitlan,
From lowliest slave to the highest throne,
Gathered before gods to whom they atone,
With obsidian blade priests begin the flood,
Of a sacrificial ceremony sealed with blood.
But do not weep for the ritually slain,
Or condemn this misunderstood race,
This culture both in and out of place,
Who flourished before interference from Spain;
Immoral inquisitions wielding torture and pain,
Led by Cortez’s murderous gold greed,
Condoned by religion’s, fanatical need.
A pyrrhic victory for invading Spanish-whites,
Conquistadors, who murdered, pillaged and *****
A savage slaughter that not even children escaped,
Brave Mexica vanquished in the one sided fights,
A nation revelling no more during hot sultry nights,
A lost civilization weeping for countless lost lives,
And yet, and yet . . . Mexica spirit; forever survives.
©Paul Chafer 2014
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
**I wonder
If you could
Or if you would
Or if you'd even dare
I wonder
If you're shy
Or if you'd try
Or how much you would share
I wonder
In your cage
So filled with rage
If you feel alone
I wonder
If you're free
To come with me
Where demons are condoned**
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 4:09 AM UTC
Early morning the world still sleeping,
The only sound was the birds singing.
My meditation and solitude was broken
With the sound of the phone ringing.
My heart sank quickly at the words I would hear.
Somehow I already knew, A deep breath I held.
Closed my eyes to see the picture my head drew
Your color fading quickly
Red, purple, blue and then grey,
Your hands were clenched around your throat
The panicked look on your face,
You were gasping for air as if you had choked.
The Present and Afterlife were starting to collide,
Life’s memories brought peace as you laid there and died
Then a blank stare
Your eyes a lifeless glaze
Your last moments had passed
You’ve reached the final phase
Thinking back on our conversation,
Accepting death you confessed
Acting as if I supported your decision was the ultimate test.
The mental block was successful,
I gave you a warm smile, I hugged you so tight & walked away
Out of your site, I fell to my knees and began to pray.
Sobbing…
My arms holding my stomach at the news that came over the phone,
Cumbersome
My regrets of keeping it inside, you believed your decision to die was condoned.
If I had it to do all over again, would the outcome be the same?
My decision of you not to worry about me partly to blame?
A few days have passed, as I stare at your final resting place.
I feel a breeze & close my eyes just to picture your face.
A tap on my shoulder “My Condolences” I hear.
Pulling my knees tightly to my chest & used my shoulder to wipe my fallen tears.
I nodded my head to the stranger, the same warm smile I gave,
As they stared at the fresh dirt that was laid upon your grave.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 1:12 AM UTC
( 9/6/12)
They had gathered in the square
And a feeling of unrest was in the air
A message of freedom resounded out loud
you could hear the talk amongst the crowd.
Their voices started off very softly
And rose to a high pitched frequency
And in their faces the anger you did see.
The world is changing and so must we
We must fight poverty and bigotry.
Families are starving all around this world
Just look at the faces of the boys and girls.
There are children who are skin and bones
And are left without a home.
Mothers have no more milk in their breast
And not a morsel of food for them to eat
As they lay dying at their feet.
When they do have food to cook
They need clean water and a plate
And a spoon , fork , and a knife
So their fingers they would not bite.
A netting for where they sleep
To them is a treat.
Insects flying all around
And the children s crying is the only sound.
People being condoned because of their
Religious beliefs ,color, and ****** gender
And it’s not getting any better.
I live in a world of political corruption and hate
But I always try to keep my faith and
Hopefully one day they will open up their eyes
And take away that disguise.
This is the reason you hear FREEDOMS VOICE
Through out the lands - because people just can’t
Understand why our politicians turn their backs
And refuse to pick up the slack.
They say that these are third world nations
Who have all these devastations
But don’t they have rights just like we
So lets try to help them stamp out poverty and bigotry.
I know it’s nearly impossible to do what we say
But one by one we can find the way.
ONE BY ONE !
© L.RAMS
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 7:09 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Terror claimed in Islam's name
Is at best misguided
Because terrorist abandon Islamic understanding
When they make that claim
Despite the Middle East, Islam stands for peace
Suicide and murder's not condoned
Though some choose to use it
And in so doing abuse it
Thus inventing a religion of their own
Chances are none to slim that a true Muslim
Could ever think the terror is allowed
When there is ample proof of the Qu'ranic truth
What is haram can never be halal
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
Found myself staring
into the cold ceiling
thinking
if this could be right.
Weary soul and broken body,
you found me
when there were none
to see.
Right before this
we condoned with friendship,
but now
you've got me thinking of ties
more than them.
With my flesh and bone
by the telephone
waiting,
your overdue phone call.
Stealing glances and hushing breaths
you barely look at me now,
only feign an ignorance
and refuse to
pick up where we left off.
Call me a friend
Call me a cheater
Call me a liar
Call me a lost enchanter
But call me.
Just once.
Tonight.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 11:42 AM UTC
Am I able to say I would like to carry you to that
oblique lake overseas, where we can still imagine
“the early 19th Century twilight,” and from the
trestle see how a self-determining logic in the
form of rationally organized matter—the luster of
metal, a vanishing glimpse of the moon or the sun,
a smile—becomes conscious, self-conscious, through us;
a freedom emptied out into that time we were
rambling to and fro like the rivers, and the dust
blanketed inscriptions on pulp condoned from trees
planted with the depths and heights of the human
heart as such? Yet how can we picture abstractions
that we can not live in alone, but perhaps to
imagine, with this, a criss-cross movement of
subjective expressions, views, and attitudes where
I sacrifice myselfs and my topics alike to a faith
we know is unwarranted, a slant illustration of
what we’ve agreed to call truth; the shimmer
of a bunch of grapes by candlelight, its joys
and sorrows, its strivings, deeds, and fates.
* * *
And when I say “this” I mean this, philosophy,
or pottery, or e-mails and short tweets between us.
And when I say “us” I don’t just mean the two of us,
you and me, but humanity. Of course, the abstract
is always felt through the concrete, as, when our
arms were touching, I felt what I am unable to say.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 12:40 AM UTC