"convinces" poems
The next to empty train
Roars through the mist of dawn
As it passes the lakes and elves
The dark and mystic pines
-forests that once told of horrors
To keep the ones like me
From crossing the line-
This box, this crate
A testament of the modern man
To whom which it serves
It is somewhat of a time traveller
When it breezes the land
That years have made its own
And yet there are scenes from my window
That I know are proofs
Of exceptions to the rule that reads,
“time will take its toll”
All the brooks and oaks
And even more so
Every bolder and stone
Convinces my heart and soul
That I need not be marred and scorned
Broken and torn
By the thistles and thorns
And all the bourdons that the lions
Of this glass world
Convict me to *****
Since there is a side
To the manic and indecisive puzzle that is I
A side of realism and cynicism
Thus I am well aware of my mortality
And the scarcity of the time that is mine
My existence is an indirect unwritten vow
To never bend my back and bow
To never fall in line
And receive my share of coals
To fuel this machine down the rusty tracks
In a race against nature or God
A race to prove one or the other
Or even both wrong
A race we’ve already lost
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 11:43 AM UTC
She is not a sub
And may never be
Her inner voice
Convinces her of
A different choice
But her spirit wails
And her body lusts
For hard physical passion
Power exchange
Seed and submission
If you play with her
Deliver strength
Back her to a wall
Kiss her hard
Command her jaw
Use her
Discipline her
Drop her to her knees
It’s what she needs, and
She loves to please
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC
*Man and woman, though different
Are equal in the eyes of God.
inexplicable though true but still
Unacceptable for some perhaps
Man is the highest of all creations
Woman is the most sublime of all Ideals.
God made for a man a throne,
for a woman an altar.
the throne exalts,
The altar sanctifies.
Man is the brain.
woman is the heart.
The brain fabricates light while
The heart produces love.
light fecunds,
Love resuscitates.
Man is the code.
Woman is the gospel.
The code corrects
As the gospel perfects.
Man is the genius while
Woman is the angel.
The genius is undefinable
And the angel is immeasurable.
Man is strong in reason
but woman is invincible in her tears.
Reason convinces the most stubborn
Just as tears soften the hardest of mortals.
Man is the ocean
And the woman is the lake.
The ocean has it's pearls that adorn;
The lake has its poems that dazzle.*
***Man stands where the earth ends;
And woman where heaven begins.***
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
She says she doesn’t have the strength within herself to write poetry.
Yes, her. The one who so often nourished me with song
til my soul began to learn how to hunt for itself,
whose word carried weight in leading me to pick my own instrument,
albeit one of a different tone,
as the key in keyboard became prominent for the first time
and the sound of purposeful fingers upon it could be considered,
only in the right light,
synonymous to the plucking of strings, just as rooted in emotion.
Yet she's the first to say that she herself can't do it.
Thing is, I suppose we’re politely at odds on the matter.
She favors poetry that’s sharper, with a cleaner cut,
that’s message is immediate and jarring
as a conduit running from soul through skin,
or a loose-lipped diary finally freed from lock and key.
And when she declared it, I started to consider what my poems seem to me:
Blackberry bushes (but kinder, I hope)
that snag and immerse just long enough
to make me feel I’ve had an effect.
I’ve used writing to expel my most gnarled feelings
to any passerby who’s maybe felt the same.
Like crying in a mirror:
alarming, but oddly refreshing,
and an indefinite reminder that our aches are never only our own.
Still, I'm not sure why it blows my mind
to hear that even the most glamorous hearts,
who wear confidence as a summer breeze that's always in their favor
and who inspire, from beau gestures to sleight of hand,
are included in those who find themselves pacing back, back and forth,
begging curbside at the dime store
for a scrap of the same feed that convinces a heart to pump ink.
But she says that any art that's enjoyed is worth it.
So while she seeks out words that bare the bones,
I’ll stay and make a meal of the marrow,
hollowing them so that the poetry may have a rightful place
to reverberate as hymns in a universal monastery.
But hell, like I’m any old soul.
I dress nicer than I otherwise would,
turn to the mother who told me I don’t meet her lowest standards,
and ask for a critique.
All for the moment when she greets me at the door with a legendary G#.
...Now please, could you spare a dime?
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 2:27 PM UTC
Sometimes, in life you find that special friend. Someone who changes your life by just being a part of it. Someone who makes you laugh until you’re crying. Someone who makes you believe that there is always something good in life. Someone who convinces you that there is an unlocked door somewhere that is waiting for you to open it. Someone who reaches out for you to help you stand up again.
That is a forever friendship. When youre down, and your world seems dark and empty, your forever friend lifts you up and suddenly makes your dark and empty world seem bright and full. Your forever friend gets you through hard times, sad times, and confused time. Also the happy time, your forever friend is there.
If you turn around and walk away, your forever friend follows. If you lose your way, your forever friend guides you and cheers you up. Your forever friend holds your hand and then tell you that everything is going to be okay. And when you find such a friend, you feel happy and complete because you had nothing to worry about. I want you to please keep them forever.
You have a forever friend, and forever has no end.
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 8:25 PM UTC
It is possible.
To leap beyond where fear takes us.
Surely so many things happen.
By contrast
We stand still.
Wound up in total curiosity.
To dream in wonderment.
With each twirl we captivate the essence of someone else.
A sort of inspiration that convinces us that we are more than what we believe.
Beginning to walk,
Our other functioning parts come to life.
Embraced in true courage.
Spun around and round.
This huge metal behind it's back.
Suddenly this obstacle isn't what it seems.
First finding what is important.
The touch of someone else
Through encouragement.
The wind-up doll begins to move
No longer incapable by what we define as fear,
But enormous faith.
To place all of it's self in another
Without fear of adding another chip to it's face.
It waddles along.
Moments later,
Pride interferes.
It's movements stop.
To be spun up again and again
Falling to the floor
Seconds at a time
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 2:29 AM UTC
I drop my pencil under a guy's chair and my friend convinces me to ask him for it back because "he's nice I promise" so I work up the courage to call his name as loud as I dare and I just start talking so I can tell him what happened before I lose my nerve, but halfway through I notice he's not listening at all and instead of asking for my pencil I ask him to ignore me. He does.
I met a boy and he was intriguing and clever and sarcastic and not unattractive and I thought he had potential but I waved in the hall and he didn't wave back and he didn't want to sit next to me in class.
I invite a boy I've known since 3rd grade to sit next to me in class, and he does, but then his friend shows up and there's a wistful look in his eyes. He doesn't talk to me, and he switches his seat the next day.
I sit at a crowded lunch table full of people I don't like because the people I do are outcasts. I don't have time to eat all my food.
I switch lunch tables to sit with my crush, by invitation of a friend. They ignore me to talk to each other. I try to join. I ask what's so funny. They shake their heads. He's sitting almost on top of me because the tables are so small but he never even turns to look at me.
Last year he sat with us and talked mostly to me and her table was having drama and fighting and now they all wear skirts to school and look pretty and my eyes are puffy and my legs have a light layer of fuzz which is easy to see because I'm still so pale.
I was the only person to sit alone on the first day of biology class and when I walked in the second day a girl who's never been particularly nice to me and wasn't in the class yesterday is there. She's excited to see me. She asks me to sit next to her. She looks at my paper while I write. I don't say anything because I don't want to sit alone anymore.
I'm stressed out by the second day. Unprepared.
718 more days.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 12:32 AM UTC
And as he leaves me with his words of wisdom
His blessing
I am expelling every sound he utters away from myself
I flinch from his touch
A pat on the back is like acid on my skin
In his presence I am forced to tape myself up
Whether it is to keep myself from exploding or from falling apart I still don't know
But there are times when my pieces begin to shake and quiver so violently that I start to leak and a storm rages in my head while the rain escapes through my eyes
It is in that moment that I scream at him to leave, without making a sound
And it scares me that he knows what I look like naked
because he has stared at women with my same body on the internet and has drooled over the same curves and lumps that I have
And it scares me how he can sound so sane. So sane that he convinces himself that he is stable
And it scares me that no one but me and my mother will ever truly understand how distorted his thought process is
All this fear and anger sit, rotting inside my stomach and at the center of the mass of hate, there is a spot of sadness for the good dad that left when I began to understand the things a young child should not be able to understand
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 4:37 PM UTC
Sparks from the fire float into the night, pretending to be fireflies
Ashes from the fire reminds me of lost souls, searching for a way back into life
Smoke from the fire surrounds and blinds me, like bad memories
Flames from the fire reach out to me, beckoning me to embrace them
Smells from the fire consume me, acting like chloroform
Crackling from the fire puts me in reality, sounding like guns in the distance
Color from the fire convinces me of anger, but also of beauty
Heat from the fire warms me, so much like my hatred
Embers from the fire glow with motivation to prove something
The fire in me is what makes me alive
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 1:50 AM UTC
Reluctant traveler on a dusty road
on a path not of his choosing..
As he struggles with his load,
he wonders what he is losing.
Feet blistered from the harrowing walk
face weathered from the sun
his hands, they bleed
his throat is parched,
yet water does little for the need.
He convinces himself it is for the best
And accepts it in his mind.
But his heart is hesitant to catch up to his head
afraid there, of what it might find.
Reluctant traveler on the choppy seas
distance has not been smooth sailing..
His conflicted soul he tries to appease,
and he wonders if he is failing.
Steadily he moves, still looking back to the shore
of the ocean inside his mind.
Meanwhile, waiting at his horizon’s door,
is what he had prayed to find.
She waits for him inside his eyes
so deep he cannot see her
behind the lens where truth resides,
she waits for him to free her.
But on his boat he drifts along
carried by the current’s roll,
still looking back, he misses the beacon song
from the lighthouse of her soul.
And so she waits
resting deep,
deep within the ocean of his eyes.
As off he drifts,
drifts to sleep
while the emerald currents reflect the skies.
Their paths, though seemingly guided
may never come parallel;
And kismet conspired with the stars and collided
but only time can tell…
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
Drug; he controls my brain.
He stirs an irresistible blend of chemicals in my body and convinces me to fall for him; he increases blood flow to the primitive areas of my brain and activates the circuits responsible for love and desire.
Adrenaline; he balances my stress.
He keeps my heart strong and healthy as thoughts of him and us dominate me and excite me, prompting me to get tachycardia (fast heart rate above 100 bpm) and my blood pressure to rise.
Dopamine; he regulates my focus.
He stimulates desire and triggers pleasure in me; I remember everything about us, then forget about my surroundings; I am motivated to please him, then I daydream and become unable to stay on task.
Serotonin; he stabilizes my mood.
He charms and induces me to perspire and relax, crave and distance him, lose and gain sleep, feel pain and relief, get happy and upset, and decrease and increase my immune system functions.
Medication; he forces my loveswept cells to go haywire.
He has cured my lovesickness, shooed away my regrets, helped me move on from my past, boosted my (self-)confidence, made me look forward to tomorrow, and offered me a ticket to bliss.
Oxytocin; he enables me to produce lovestruck hormones.
He affects my moral molecules as he attracts my undivided attention, pushes me to trust him, raises attachment and empathy, brings psychological stability, and encourages me to want to be closer to him.
Vasopressin; he causes me to secrete lovetastic chemicals.
He renders me monogamous and continues to have me hooked onto him; he makes me thirst for him, display amorous behavior, defend him and us, and maintain a strong partnership.
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 7:18 AM UTC
"What's going on," my love said to the puppy
and me. "Everybody's up at 5 a.m.?
In the dark, we all went out to the backyard
where crickets hummed and the pool lay waiting,
and the damp grass welcomed our bare feet.
Every new day, every morning cup of steaming
coffee, every couch cuddle convinces me that a happy
life begins with a renewed sense of wonder at how darkness
shapes and frames the rising sun of love.
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 6:22 AM UTC
There is a monster
who lives in my head,
she talks to me softly
she wants me dead.
She tells me this time
I'll stay in control.
She tells me not to let anyone know.
She convinces me that
no one cares,
she whispers the pain
is to much to bear.
She tells me how wonderful
I will feel.
She tells me she loves me
and it is real.
She tells me not to call anyone,
My heart starts racing,
she tells me it will be fun.
She tells me not to think of
past times,
she promises I can do it just
once this time
Who is this monster who calls me
by name,
crystal ****
shes waiting to start the game.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC
the root of my problems, does not have a root at all, its like not string or a tail of bread crumbs I can follow back to a single moment, it isnt a suppressed thought, its a voice that convinces me my thoughts were worth suppressing me in the first place.
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 11:36 PM UTC
Your skin's so pure and humane.
Sure you have what it takes to make me insane.
Soft lips and soft skin convinces me that you're the blame.
Vision me on the hood of your car, cliche'd kisses in the rain.
Although you don't know me.
After the night, you won't have to worry.
With a Virgo touch so worthy.
An undying spirit so earthy.
Wish you may hold me forever?
Stand within the clouds together?
Continuous nights like this, we'll phase every weather.
Goddess of love, I could do no wrong.
Kiss me hard. Kiss me long.
****** me deep to our song.
Feel me strong.
**** with me heavy and a lifetime of pleasure awaits.
Such a far distance away. Such a true feel at stake.
It's up to us to design a future that we glimpse in our mind.
Making something out of nothing is our shine.
Don't be afraid, follow me and climb.
The future is yours, pay attention to the signs.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
Justifies the bad
Takes credit for the good
Convinces you to go to war
And that your desires make you a *****
Your weird if you don't like our junk food
And you better not express your real mood
Your personality is not your own
And if it is your all alone
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 9:48 PM UTC
as soon as she sees it she wants it is entitled to it while she is stealing it she begins elaborate lie everybody knows if she truly wants it she has means everybody knows she is gorgeous movie actress celebrity starlet awesome accessory genius she convinces herself she did not steal it the darling delicate chain with finely crafted handcuff clasp and accompanying key she wears it effortlessly just another imperial trifle hanging around her exquisite throat she has no idea how it got there she may have a drug problem a little dizzy even careless but she is no thief what with her magnificent beauty idyllic body prominent discography why would anyone accuse her she is submerged in deep denial why with so much to lose and absolutely nothing but tiny shimmering embellishment to gain why do tell would anyone point a finger at her she probably wasn’t even ever there at that dicey store she never tried on the astronomically overpriced bling it may have been her dodgy handlers or stylist’s suspect mismanagement and subsequent loan hypothesis she is positively not a thief it’s too insignificant an item to squabble about a mere gold necklace the whole incident ridiculously overblown cruel in fact she hates the miserable paltry piece of jewelry here take it back she insists it never graced her illustrious neck if anything perhaps a cheap ploy by Venice Beach shop to enhance it’s value oh the genuine necklace that she stole
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 12:12 PM UTC
Perfection doesn’t exist
It’s a non-existing standard we can define by nothing more than our desperation and pursuit of completion
It’s deluding and is painful to bare, in fact letting of go of it opens up so many pores of acceptance and contentment without hindering ones ambition of aspiration
One shouldn’t go with the other
Perfection is not meant to go hand in hand with ambition
In fact the healthiest more achievable form of ambition is that which exist without the *********** of perfection in its walls and foundation
Ambition is healthy, the idea of perfection on the other hand is dangerous and so mythological that it causes a great deal of inadequacy to those that still hold on to its empty promises.
Let us produce great results, great being the profound collective exchange between good and bad, happy and sad, what is positive and what is negative
These are not opposing forces, that’s what perfection has convinced us of, they are parallel systems of reality that make and break it equally, as one cannot exist without the other in specific instance
Belief in perfection is as dangerous in a mentally ill person’s conviction to jump off a sky scrapper believing he can fly, it’s becomes more damaging the more we believe in it.
Perfection is not peaceful it is stagnant, it’s monotonous and deceptive
In fact perfection is cruel because it convinces is of a reality we seek and pursue when we can’t even imagine
It has no beginning nor an ending because that’d process and progress
Meaning perfection in a reality of progress never was and will never be but doesn’t want you to believe that, in fact the only thing that brought perfection into conception and gave it the nerve to even exist in our reality as the theory it exists on is the falsehood it’s made a home of in our hearts and in our souls, that’s why it’s hard to imagine but even harder to get rid of and eradicate.
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 4:13 AM UTC
Negativity is not always overtly depressive,
Positivity is not always overtly happy.
Negativity eats away, piece by piece.
It hides in the banal.
Its disguised by layers of colour,
Noise, applause.
Negativity is drip fed, unnoticed.
The bland
The ordinary
The acceptable
Even the comfortable.
Negativity keeps you in your place,
Convinces you
How good you’ve got it,
Fosters no hope,
Breeds joy in superficiality.
Negativity is not a natural state of mind.
No one wants it, yet
Its continually perpetuated by those
Who are blind to it.
Negativity tells you that Positivity is frivolous and childish,
Happy-clappy psycho-babble,
Is an immense effort, an uphill struggle,
A dream, stupid, deluded, unobtainable…
Well, it would, wouldn’t it? Its Negative.
Negativity sets you unattainable goals,
Holds up a false mirror,
Tells you that you need to be
What you can’t be…
But still you ache, drive, strive
To get there,
Concentrating all energy on it,
To the detriment of all else.
Jul 21, 2020
Jul 21, 2020 at 1:42 PM UTC
she whispers poetic metaphors
comprised of beautiful words
into thirsty ears
and watches as hungry eyes
become enveloped with stars
as they imagine the beauty
of her love
she tells them
¨he is the earth
and i am his moon
orbiting around him¨
orbiting for him
but
you see
an orbital´s path
is not paved by love
for she often asks herself
if she was really in love at all
or was it simply
his proximity
which so forcefully
pulled her in
for closeness
is what tore the moon
from her own established path
amongst the stars
when she encountered
the inescapable gravity
of another celestial body
the moon
diminutive and frail
in comparison
had no choice
but to succumb to the earth´s captivation
and redirect her path
to assume a new orbit
around a new focus
instead of progressing forward
she now knows nothing
but the same hideous loop
and like a scratched record
it repeats itself
over
and over
and over
and over
again
and every taste of freedom
simply brings her careening even quicker
around the next corner
until she becomes
all too familiar
with the same series of events
so she convinces herself
she's fallen in love
then that she's fallen
back out of it again
except
she hasn't really fallen anywhere
her mind simply adapts
a new narration
for the same spiral storyline
she never really loved him
for while they were close
momentum prevented their hearts
from ever truly touching
(for if the moon and the earth
drifted too close
they would collide)
and she will never know
now that she has become entranced
by a new planetary orbit
and as she tells the story
of how the moon
fell for the earth
the paradox of orbitals
was the perfect disguise
for her sinister love
x.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 6:16 PM UTC
Every day when I wake it’s that daze that gives me
The choice to be lost or rejoice in the moment
That begins and convinces the rest of the day
To be irreversibly just as he was
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 4:00 AM UTC
Walls and chains, walls and chains,
That is the metaphor for containment.
But do not forget that of your own mind
It'll lock you up and tell you lies,
Replaces emotion with logic
But the logic is just so chaotic
And you can't break free of this
In your mind, walls and chains are what you miss.
The mind is what convinces you to regret
Kisses and touches and feelings and yet
You know in your heart the feeling is true
Its like there's a war between the two
Walls and chains, walls and chains
They know nothing of containment.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 2:06 AM UTC
The thing I wear when I’m depressed.
The thing I wear under stress.
When I’m angry I go to the mask’s caress.
I cradle my emotions in a nest.
Only to later have them thrown off my chest.
But still I go back to the mask’s concealing crest.
The mask’s magic is deceiving
It convinces me that hiding my emotions brings healing.
But listen now, listen don’t wait!
If wear the mask you will have it’s fate.
Sooner or Later and don’t forget,
The mask will make you do something you’ll regret.
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 8:45 AM UTC
No matter who I meet
Or how i behave
There are those who cheat
And theres me, who gives all I gave
It still will never be enough
Because i'm not her
I will never have the stuff
Me becoming that girl will never occur
You say it so swiftly
"I wish you can be Mel"
Words flew so quickly
You don't even know how I felt
I'm like a penny
you need more of me
To keep you steady
Enough 'till i'm finally she
I'm just a piece
until you finally mold me
and then you're at peace
But you just can't see
I will never be her
therefore i will never be enough
For you, this is a blur
and i need to get tough
Either it's the ones in a relationship
Wanting a side
Not wanting to be patient
Talking with deception not a lie.
Or it's the ones who want one thing
and for sure
He's not giving you a ring
Just a walk down the hall to the door
Or the ones who kinda want something genuine
But not with you.
Although it seems innocent
It isn't and sadly he doesn't give you a clue.
This is what hurt feels like
Getting hit by a car
being left for dead
But not dying.
And you cry to be able to know you're still alive
But you're in pain and have a lot of trauma
But I'm wrong
It's worst than that
Especially when he manipulates and convinces me
It's like things are going so well
and out of no where a hot rock hits your head
and it swells
and now you're half dead
It's definitely like
not being able to sleep
Thinking about it constantly
Who to blame
How to make it feel better
how to move on.
Sleeping less than 2 hours a night
walking around like nothing is bothering you
Living with a weight on you
Something that is such a fright
And nothing you can do
Not getting justice from the law suit
Not being able to help when needed the most
Not being able to save your self
Be restrained from the use of your own-self
To the point where you don't like yourself
Esteem low
How can i grow?
Why does it matter
Why do i care
It only gets me sadder
especially by your stare
I can't be helped,
It won't go away.
I'll let the cuts welt,
It will be almost okay.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 3:25 AM UTC