"convictions" poems
You laugh
Angels weep out of jealousy
Devils have no single conspiracy
Demons dancing in harmony
Men hearts go broken with no remedy
Women eyes tearing continuously
Violins break out of envy terribly
Composers have no more creativity
Music plays with no melody
Silence starts listening joyfully
Happiness laughters left in agony
Beautiful words describe nothing but misery
Tulip flowers become colorless shamefully
Believers lose their faith immediately
Infidels drop their convictions instantly
Hearts start beating rapidly
Lungs oxygenating quickly
Living ones laying listening carefully
The dead come back miraculously
--Hisham Alshaikh
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 10:24 AM UTC
In a wakeful contradiction,
It lays fact between my fiction.
Tangling subatomics,
It unravels, as its tricks spin
Deeper, toward the outward . . .
It won’t let up,
Until I give in.
Over matter, lay my mind . . .
I tell a lie to pass the time . . .
But there’s no reason nor a rhyme —
Less still, a purpose?
I search for something
To remind my mind
That there is truth,
That isn’t worthless.
But as always, failure appears
In a sort-of amnesiac continuity,
And my reality lies to my own mind,
Just as well
As it succeeds in its futility.
With destruction as its manifest,
It tells me that I stand my tallest
Upon two buckled knees.
Just as faith will find one’s doubt —
A search within has left without.
It seems that an answer, once sought out,
Will be left lacking its question.
My truth divides itself,
As the product
Of infinite misdirection.
I try to substitute a reason, for a rhyme.
But with no lies left to pass the time . . .
I swallow a dose of ignorance.
It goes down
Smoother than the truth.
In a war that started with a truce,
This world betrayed my faith
To show me:
That I'm only tall enough
Once I’ve been
cut
down
slowly.
A pill too large to swallow,
I think I’m choking on myself
Or the irony of asking,
“How could I be so careless?”
Here I stand, Barely standing,
Consumed almost entirely
By my own dry-heaving self-awareness
Each night I am left to fight the fears
That my nightmares create;
I’m still running from my past,
Yet, haunted by my fate.
They walk beside me always,
Shadowing wholeheartedly —
They exist as a duality,
Both “apart from,”
And “a part of” me.
In truth,
These ghosts have taught me very little,
Aside from what I hate.
But, I've come to learn, not to fear
The forceful hands of fate.
For, I shudder not, at the thought of destiny,
Or the inevitable in time . . .
Instead, I fear the eventuality of the choices
That were solely,
And entirely, mine.
I fear that my will may be
Of enough influence, alone . . .
That fate itself may collapse
Beneath decisions like my own.
Or that I, myself,
Might be constructing
What destruction I will find
Among my shattered spirits
And convictions,
In these depths, to which I climb.
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 9:43 PM UTC
the bones were hard to give up,
they pushed out like daisies
caressed under the hounding
heart of a copper sun.
unbridled and undried they bore
zealous arrogance of themselves,
petals dripping ****** convictions
and vibrating like awful angels.
under cruel devices they tried to
soften my bones and mold thick skull
constructed of lackluster candles
on their last flame.
days passed like doctors and white nurses
examining old wires that pray tell
the routines, the stools, the teeth.
i am their Jesus, their Lazarus.
my hearse, my sheep keeper,
my pretty things,
i become the acrobat at the
finale, the last supper,
supplementing at the **** of my
recovery. i lay my skin down for all
of you to see: here is my breast!
my toad belly! my glass feet!
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
My pain is not a poem,
my poetry isn't poetic.
It's cryptic and a message,
cutting up and breaking
branches. Comprehensive;
my poems are suicidal, files of
medications and prescriptions
are seemingly all my mind
can write. Jumping to conclusions
and indenting my addictions,
inflicting this confliction, convictions
I don't mention. Those rhymes that
I have wrote; it was the drowning as I broke,
a broken draft of notes, that sing:
"you'll never learn to float,"
Acid, or is it water?
I'm hoping for the latter,
well I guess it never mattered,
years doubled and I'm sadder.
When does it get better?
When do I get better?
I guess it never will, and I'm
home but I'm not here,
I'm stuck, I'm stuck, I'm stuck,
and all my heart
can pump is tears-
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 8:06 PM UTC
I get accused of a lot of things at first glance
"You're simplistic, you're hiding something
You have no convictions, you don't think deeply"
Usually by those who I consider to be on intellectual crutches
If you're gonna come up to talk to me from a religious context
from a spiritual context
from a hierarchical, metaphysical, eat this **** popsicle mindset
Don't expect me to swallow
Don't expect me to talk
You won't like what I have to say
Because really you just want me to agree with you
If you want me to respect your framework
When you have nothing but the claims of quacks
and the feelings you gleaned from your last psychedelic trip
to back you up
While I have to sit back and listen to how I'm close minded
Close minded for wanting some real truth in this universe
unfiltered, raw, verifiable, and in my hand
and that anything other than that is a spray paint over
my true awakening
Then I guess I'll just have to be that *******
to die for these intellectual sins
The Eldest Son of Matt, hater of pretense
Hypocrite to the highest level
Build me up into a figure of idolatry
Just like you do with the rest of your ego cases
Priests, Gurus, Rabbis, Rockstars, Poet sensations
Tell me how wonderful it is to listen to them
Tell me how I should be more in touch with a tree
Tell me how I don't dream
When all my life is but that
Tell me how I'm not deep when you make no attempt to learn
Who I am, and where I have come from
Misinterpret my teachings, and claim me to feel
As if I was the newest son of god
When all I want is for people to get beyond blinders
and love each other, and to get beyond the metaphysical rat race
Tell me that I'm supposed to live and let live
While you jam your beliefs down my throat
and expect me to respect getting philosophically tea bagged
Tied up to the crucifix
and asking me to repent for my search for truth
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
Why do you do what you do,
For many it is said for bounty adieu,
To live as long as they can reach,
Held in love that was not preached,
So,
Why do you do what you do,
Made in choice and decisions anew,
Lined with the convictions of the soul and hue,
Written in stone or chanced by clues,
So,
Why do you do what you do,
Searching for a golden cue,
Cure for the soldered shame,
Living towards a blackless blame,
So,
Why do you do what you do,
Is it for naught or is it for thought,
Is it for the righteousness in your mind that you sought?
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
Carrying my truth.
I stand by my views,
watching through
my weakening gaze.
After a raging storm,
making peace with myself,
I vanish into the air,
my convictions fold with me.
Without simple answers,
wearing the new lens,
I see another world:
not clearer,
not wiser,
not safer,
…
just slightly shifted.
May 28, 2025
May 28, 2025 at 9:02 AM UTC
Mad
Angry and disturbed
Perturbed by your absurd words
Their rhythm ring sing songs on & on
Wrongly depicting me as the beast who depletes we
Condemned and prosecuted for convoluted convictions
Incarcerated despite fair trial meanwhile
Defendant roams free, though guilty
So I suffer when her rough mood cannot bebuffered
And somehow the blame is on me, what a shame it would be
If I had a fair trial, and you were beguiled by my vengeance
But Corinthians bestowed on me that love hold no grudge
So I won't budge,
This time.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
Like a meme of activism
This women's coalition
Mothers
Sister
Friends
Pioneers and heroines
There's courage in their convictions
A guild of collectivism
They hold luncheons in their kitchens
Talk of abolition
Mysticism
Feminism
Of heroes and magnetism
Seduction
Love
Eroticism
They scream like banshees at a crucifixion
About injustice
Dereliction
Terrorism
A tradition underwritten
With symbolism
Drums
Violins
Musicians
They may be sitting
They may be knitting
Baking muffins
Folding linen
Running errands
Stuffing chickens
A juxtaposition to their ambition
Of inspiring the unwilling
Turning derision to optimism
Their fire and brimstone
Will have history rewritten
Freedom of reproduction
Liberalism
Animism
They have wisdom
Intuition
Rhythm
They are fearsome
This women's coalition
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
probly a few minutes
and i was done
writing wasn't feeling the same
i stood on top like
bricks around disaster
i was looking up
i took my shoes off
threw them aside still laced
i wasn't being funny
i know where this is going
where i write
where i see cracks in perfect paths
where blood taste like metals of purity
with every year burning
where these flowers like to live
die on vines from inside
allowing ivy to climb my back
i am a length of fence
in a yard with no dog
on a gate without reason
sitting on a post during live events
i am a fool for giving into seasons
romancing everything like a poet
following every inch of broken glass
nodding to my friends that i'm willing to mend
but waiting for them to laugh
outlined with chalk on the sidewalk
where blood stains concrete my convictions
flowing from the curb to the overpass
in the night like candles floating water
under tree branches ready to crack
formatting clouds to sky write, come with me
a man in the park on his back
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 5:24 AM UTC
They, you and I.
Are?
Interpretations, opinions,
Fears and convictions,
Likes-dislikes,
History and anticipations,
Of life.
All, save the living of it, maybe?
A song heard months back in time
You mused over the major & minor,
I'd pondered over the rhyme.
Each of us
As convinced about its presence.
Winter tastes different in my memory.
Epilogue:
You must choose between
His bespectacled vision
And my retrospective conclusion
But you must know
Which you chose
And why.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
AFFIRMATIONS, AFFIRMATIONS, AFFIRMATIONS;
JOYFUL, POSITIVE AND FILLED WITH CONVICTIONS
EMANATING SWEET AND MELODIC FREQUENCIES RESONATING WITH DNA AND TRANSFORMED INTO COMPLETION.
AFFIRMATIONS, AFFIRMATIONS, AFFIRMATIONS
SPOKEN INNOCENTLY AND BOLDLY AS A CHILD WOULD; EXPRESSING HIS BEAUTIFUL IMAGINATION
WHETHER WE USE PRAYER, CHANTING OR MEDITATION AFFIRMATIONS ARE THE KEYS TO OUR EVOLUTION.
Oct 2, 2021
Oct 2, 2021 at 6:00 PM UTC
“The most important scientific revolutions all include, as their only common feature, the dethronement of human arrogance from one pedestal after another of previous convictions about our centrality in the cosmos.”
Stephen Jay Gould
Give me
vacuum tube torus Lorentz-Klein interference receptors
dual noble-gas maser integration processors
at least one
prosthetic Gaussian carbon-coated ribosomal Tesla coil
an anthropomorphic hierarchical temporal meme-pseudopod
some
support vector k-nearest neighbor algorithms
reverse engineered quantum optic die-cast silica motherboards
self-assembling three dimensional electro-active protein polymers
maybe even
a superconducting spectral alkali resonance analyzer
paired with
harmonizing piezoelectric kinematic thermal modules
dipped in
subzero Kurzweil-circuit nanite neurotransmitters
and voila!
God.
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 5:18 PM UTC
I'm not afraid of being called egotistical
For having convictions, for feeling like I matter
But not in that "it matters inside"
Like I'm some hipster flavor of the month
Because if Kim Kardashian is relevant I'm ******* relevant
Tell me what sandwich Kanye ate after he wiped his *** today
Tell me how One Direction smoked *** and wrote a good song finally
Tell me how Arcade Fire thinks electronic music is lesser when they
Record their tracks using a DAW
Tell me how you think Jimmy Page was a sloppy guitarist and then show
me your discography, I probably don't like it as much
Tell me I'm wasting my time, and then go clock back in at work
I'll do the same
Because if Kim Kardashian is relevant I'm ******* relevant
Tell me writing is a subjective craft
Tell me my writing *****
Tell me I'm not touching on any real points
Tell me I'm being too specific
Tell me I don't express myself enough
Tell me to shut the **** up
Tell me I'm a voice for the people
Tell me I should calm down
Tell me to keep writing and working with no recognition
Because if Kim Kardashian is relevant I'm ******* relevant.
Tell me to ignore those facts and keep going anyway
Cause I'll do it, and I'll write this ******* poem about it
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 4:22 AM UTC
heads turn
and minds churn
as the old white knuckle
brings life to the board
facilitation (and procreation!)
become heavenly fit
for the
paradigm day
jitter men
and podium seniors
sit cocked
in the back row
front runners
bust a brain box
(their lines frayed
and edges portrayed)
truth makers tread
the center stage
(with a new and improved
product portfolio)
an evolution
of human spirit
mobilized
in apparent
perfect form
sound bites
and titillating calls
echo from
the main hall
a wise man
cringes
on a poorly
timed exchange
mind sets moving
quid pro quo
intuitions
and convictions
viewpoints
and revelations
all fun
and fundamental
(or so they say)
depth charts
and zodiac principles
speak to the masses
abbreviations
refreshers
and timeless
lifelines
*we’d like a peak
inside of you*
a glimpse
of your point of view
the turks and talking heads
speak of
grand design
and inclusion
class complete
(interpreted at the 7th sneeze)
please check those thoughts
and insights
the final answers
are coming
(satiric)
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 1:54 PM UTC
i quake to my bones
to my very core
i shudder and crumble
ashes to ashes
dust to dust
overwhelmed,
consumed
filled to the brim
the very thought of me
Screams you
the slinking corridors hide my addictions,
afflictions,
illusions, distractions,
my convictions
the mirrors reflect nothing
i am weightless, drifting
ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 2:15 AM UTC
Broken lines on subway walls, twisted dolls, and high noon cat calls
This is the way I see life
It is a micosm of our failed society,
with a beaten down view on stained glass, shattered on the empty church floor begging us to pray over a God that we can't see or touch.
Kneeling in front of the wooden church pews, with two bruised knees yelling out in pain our convictions into some sort of religious echo chamber of somber and remorse
So, you want us to believe in what is real or what is not!!!
What is this so called life you speak of?
It sounds like a messed up Shakespeare tragedy
A sad tragedy that surrounds every living soul like some God forsaken circus freak dressed up ********* in a clown suit
A souless tragedy that beats down the door of our hearts then shreds it into tiny pieces, only to leave it on the ***** kitchen table to rot in front of us
Yes, that so called life
Its hard to imagine what I have seen
what I touched, or what I have felt inside
I cannot explain it in simple words, it's complicated
It's more bad than good, destitute and diluted, forgotten and then deleted
It has all become a tragic piece of me
Why? Because I live it every single day, every single minute, every single second and every single breathe
So, let that sink in. Just tragic in a way, tragically distorted mindless thoughts trapped in each one of us.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 1:08 PM UTC
Mali pala ang nasa isip
Ito pala'y isang panaginip
Buhat mula sa maling akala
Na sakin ika'y tinadhana
My thoughts were not what they seemed
Turns out all this was just a dream
Brought upon by false convictions
That for us a red string was drawn
Ginising mo ako sa katotohanan
Na lahat ng bagay ay may hangganan
Pero kailanman ay hindi ako nagsisisi
Dahil totoo ang ating pagmamahal kahit sandali
You opened my eyes to reality
That things can't last for eternity
I have no regrets what so ever
Because we had a short but real happy ever after
Hindi ko lubos na pinahahalagahan
Ang walang hanggan
Dahil ang importante ay
Ang pagmamahal na buo at tunay
For me, the existence of forever
Doesn't really matter
What's important is
The realness of love amidst the adversities
Wala akong galit na ipadarama
O ganti na sana ikaw ay magdusa
Walang hinanakit na dinadaing
Kundi salamat sa pagmamahal habang ika'y nasa aking piling
For you, I have no rage to release
No vengeance to accomplish
No sorrow to let go
But for the love while you were mine, I only have gratitude to bestow
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
Partly darkened and part in light
A time when the stars and sun shared the sky
Bear witness to two behemoths wielding might
Impending clash foreseen to go awry
Two trains of thoughts charging from opposite ends
Each bearing their own solid ideals
Their flags that flew with conflicting brands
Convictions they carry on beaten, weary wheels
Almost an eternity, the time is soon
Seconds lasted before they finally would meet
Feeling of dread like the cloud covered moon
With war cries of whistles, they would greet
No possible way that they could miss
War waged in steeled wills and forged metals
Anticipate the moment, their couplings would kiss
Unleashing a barrage of predestined reprisals
Sheer destruction as they ate into each other
All in tow haphazardly derailed
A clash made of brute strength and power
A result of when decisiveness had failed
All was motionless save for the light of day
The two lay dead; spent currencies in coal
Fire and smoke had emerged from the fray
Signifying that the two have met their goal
Their cargo now freed, engaging in petty skirmish
Lunging and wrestling as they fought for dominance
Determination to overwhelm; never to languish
Jousting fists fueled by pent-up vengeance
Almost at end this long drawn battle
Much like a storm to be patiently ridden out
When the last of the debris should settle
Then would be lifted the dusty veil of doubt
The sun has now risen revealing the aftermath
Shedding light on the devastation incurred
Dark thoughts possess the most potent of wraths
But nothing could beat the muscle of the written word
Looking back I've realised the harm I've caused
Found great solace in the dark words I've governed
Life still hurls; it can never be paused
Just dust yourself off for you're better off enlightened
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 5:14 AM UTC
What can I say? Another one dead and gone away.
Lost to ignorance, or
Possibly blind to addictions hooked grip.
One day your dangling a toe
Just over the edge. The next,
Your staring up wondering
How you lost your footing. I could say he’s a ****** but
Lord knows the elixirs I have invented
To dispel the dark heart of my depression.
Though I stand stoic, life has taught me
To never shame a smile. The sun rises for the living, and
Dead men fall short of tomorrow.
The amorphous soul slips through the seams
Of hands grasping to hold. So, when death discards its cloak and
Swirls its specters all around me
I’ll raise up life like a guiding lantern
And
Step through existence with my convictions.
Jun 16, 2021
Jun 16, 2021 at 12:40 PM UTC
F for the fistfights I was asked to sit out of, because I was born with a different set of genitals
E for the equal rights I've been begging for, only to be let down time and over again
M for all the military applications that weren't even reviewed, because I seemed unfit for not having a pair of nuts
I for the inferno that you made me feel, fighting so hard to be a pilot that was obviously only ' a man's job '
N for the number of convictions the guy who ***** his girlfriend didn't have to face, because the way she dressed up showed that she "wanted"it
I for all the immoral stares that I couldn't counter back for the fear of your lawyers defending you saying it was a friendly one, for the fear of you blaming the shorts and crop top that I picked out for that lovely Sunday
S for all the standards that women themselves set for themselves, ***** standards; I'll do what I want and say what I want, I'll eat what and I want and dress the way that I feel like I need to, I'll wear bikinis that probably doesn't flatter my body and height but you know what? I don't give two flying f**ks
M for the mortals that made it necessary for feminism to even exist
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
I am ready to swim
I am standing on the beach, I can feel the ocean on the wind, and I think
It seems these things do not matter.
"How vast is the sea?"
"How deep is the water?"
"How strong is the tide?"
I am brave.
Uncertainty!
I've felt many things in life, and I know this is not
My convictions
I am convinced that in this moment I will be able to hold
Because of fear or a sense of pride
Because of passion and a sense of hope, not
Because I am simply ready
(Now read it backwards)
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 7:49 PM UTC
My mind is foggy
Though I'm not groggy
A mist emerges
My peace it purges
I see contradictions
And feel convictions
That inflict conflict
And indict convicts
So I accumulate cumulus clouds accordingly
To fog my marshy mind more horribly
My brain becomes a banshee
And screams from my mist
She shrieks an awful list
Of everything wrong
And everyone gone
Her voice blasts through my cerebral stratus clouds
And her voice echoes within the silent static crowd
The clouds I gathered to block her wailing
Are completely empty and always failing
They look so absolutely grand and solid in the sky
They're just water vapor that form droplets in my eyes
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 2:59 AM UTC
I've quit the killing-
another addiction
my convictions
are open bare.
forgetting what its like,
to deal with stress and the like
without nicotines merciful smile
perfect timing i would say
now that math makes up my days
and work the latter of my nights
i've no form for this urge
that pulls inside
rung out like a sponge
wanting water.
elixir of toxins
heath risks
and iron lungs
chained and yet
so free.
how long can i resist your cough?
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC