"counteract" poems
It became a long
and drawn out mess.
You push me back, I'd pull you in
just to counteract the loneliness.
I don't really want you,
I'll confess.
I just want things that I'm not meant to;
the feel of forbidden sweetness.
I will wear a little less,
each time you say no more;
just as you feel like you forget,
you'll smell the smoke beneath your door.
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 10:42 AM UTC
Which of your Favourites you take to Trust
And hoping One of them will fill your Void
So Alone, though in Many you Adjust
Though their trifle pertinence you carry
Those Nerds ahead just consider you Strange
Yet Groupies counteract with their own Praise
Now who is Correct? They sit at the Lounge
Then settle to offer your own Fresh Space
That around your College are Ideals formed
When Some in Prayer may publish their Book
Took you as a Model; And Critics scorned
See their Used Lives in a Better Outlook.
You just have to Smile; And Happy you did
Fan their Frustrations of that Love you hid.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC
I once read the lines
“Practically on top of us
is a girl
with long brown hair
a black hoodie
and the tightest jeans I have ever seen
I automatically hate her
because those jeans
make her look good”
From a book
This mentality bothers me
I mean
Why can't we
Admire another girl's beauty
Instead of becoming jealous
Or envious of it
While attempting to find
A flaw of theirs
To counteract their beauty
Why can't we just appreciate it
While loving ourselves
Completely
Without making ourselves feel less
Important
Or desirable
Or worthy
Because they have something
That is "better"
Which is entirely subjective
Due to the fact
That there are many opinions
Of what being beautiful
Aesthetically means
Since there are many people
In this world
Which in itself
Is beautiful
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 9:48 PM UTC
you pledge allegiance to a certain type of government
a nation that is ruled by fat men
in ***** dens that cloud the air with smoke
that waters your eyes so you can water their poppy fields
all the while with your right hand over a heart
that beats feverishly with the influx
of toxins that mix with your blood
diluting the poppy petal red
with clear atoms that bubble on spoons
in the shape of bone crossed skulls
they rule with iron fists clenched around
green paper that they take from you and your people
and sell fresh needles as necessary happiness
to counteract the sadness they have created and placed you in
they sit there with smoke rings coming from o-shaped lips
that ring around the perpetual cycle of
supply and demand
supplying addiction and wrapping it in itches
and demanding your free left hand
scratch that itch.
scratch that itch so hard that your skin opens up
and the pain requires more relief.
the nation you live in waves its flag with
173 stars representing Celsius and not celestial
because space is far away from this place
and offers too much unknown for you to think
that unknown is the opposite of the sadness you know
and maybe there is happiness there
where hands are free from swollen veins that act
as puppet strings.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 6:56 PM UTC
On the day Liz Taylor died,
CNN called Larry King
out of retirement to
eulogize her during
the mornings
breakfast segment.
Tears were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
TEPCO stated that one
of the Fukushima nuclear
reactors was on fire.
Tears of cataclysm
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
government officials warned
that Tokyo's water was
contaminated with
radiation and was not fit
for infants to drink.
Tears of anguish
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
the crew of the
USS Ronald Reagan
scrubbed the deck
clean of TEPCO
radiation.
Tears of worry
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
Oregonians rushed out to
buy potassium iodine
tablets to counteract
radiation poisoning.
Tears of affliction
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
NATO forces continued
to fire missiles and drop
bombs on Libya.
Tears of agony
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
a terrorist bomb exploded
in Jerusalem, killing one
and injuring many.
Tears of vengeance
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
the Syrian Army fired on
demonstrators
calling for reforms.
Tears of hostility
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
The USA Today reported
that during the past decade
the population of Detroit
declined by 25%.
Tears of loss
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
a dilapidated brownstone
in Philadelphia collapsed;
city officials expect
many more to occur.
Tears of distress
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
President Obama cut
short his Latin American
trip by skipping a tour of
Mayan ruins.
Tears of dismay
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died
the Dow Jones Industrial
Average closed
up 67.39 points.
Tears of joy
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
Elton John dedicated the song,
Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me
to the memory of his departed friend.
Tears were shed.
You Tube Music Video:
Elton John,
Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me
Lewes DE
3/23/11
jbm
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
Thought's wander not definitions random words and my mind associations..
ALWAYS
Move forward feel emotion ride life's waves explore all oceans
BALANCE
Most people don't have it can't figure out how to counteract bad habits.
CHANGE
Continuous you can gage growth without age
DESTINY
Predetermined path sure to feel its wrath
EVOLVE
Everything is an evolution study patterns find solutions.
FOCUS
Reality smokes us takes our hopes constantly chokes us.
GREATNESS
Never will be achieved we run in circles feeding greed.
HAPPINESS
We feel it unnecessary conflict will **** it.
INTERACTION
Worlds collide theater of thought, share knowledge all can be taught.
JOY
Give to planet, heart is a diamond made up of fossilized granite.
KARMA
Never a mystery all a part of our history.
LIES
We live it everyday, leaders speak them with every other word they say.
MOMENTS
A snapshot of time can be felt in spirit and mind.
NATURE
Outside or within an untamed force that is invisible like the wind.
OPPORTUNITY
Comes knocking all the time never to those who close their mind.
PATIENCE
We wait for saviors like we wait for coffee, we rush to our deaths while the clock is tick tocking.
QUESTIONS
Bring them on answers only come to a mind that's strong.
REVOLUTION
A sibling to evolution, born from desire to find the ultimate solution.
STABLE
Not all are able put your cards on the table.
TIME
A measurement of a period, tied to our existence which is myriad.
UNIVERSAL
sounds huge but isn't, puts us all together maybe we can win it.
VISION
we must gain sight to see ,the patterns of history are blatent in stalling humanity.
WEAKNESS
in everyones soul, it's when you move forward strength arrives and you pay the toll.
XENOPHOBIA
what's new is strange addition will always equal change.
YESTERDAY
has passed a new day begins, forgive yourself today for yesterday's sins.
ZOMBIES
I see many of them everyday, walking through life with nothing good to say.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 9:07 AM UTC
how do insecurities creep inside
at our most powerful moments?
how does weakness get through power?
is it not just weakness?
how does sunshine get through rain?
well, is it not just sunshine?
can rainy times not provide a bit of power?
is it not, still, just a little rain?
is it not, still, just a little aitch-two-oh?
do we not, still, need it to survive?
does the rain just not provide?
does the sunshine not provide, too?
do we not need both to stay alive?
again, I will ask you,
how does weakness get through power?
is it not still weakness?
is it not still power over all?
are they both not necessary?
do we not need both of them together?
maybe 'why' would be the better.
why does weakness get through power?
does it not know . . . how to be a
weakness?
what?
no, why, why does the weakness have the
ability to push its way through walls of power?
that's not possible! . . . right?
how??
yes, how, how does the weakness have
the strength to stop the power from doing its job . . .
how does it know what to do to counteract power, at will?
is it not just weakness, still?
is it not just weakness . . . still . . .
why does weakness have the power . . . ?
yes, why does the weakness have power . . .
how does the weakness devour . . .
how can the weakness be wolfish . . .
how can the weakness over power . . .
how can the "weak" get through the "powerful" . . . I ask you . . .
[tbc]
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 2:57 PM UTC
What is that reality that appears to me in dreams,
chock-full of misgivings and doubt. I counteract my fear of life
with my fears of slumber,
dust in my eyes and stiff as lumber.
In truth - I'm not stiffened
by fear,
by nausea,
post-pubescent sacrilege,
or all of the above.
I'm not up-kept,
grizzly with ennui;
I'm dizzy, confiding my loss.
I feel the lips that kiss
but can't be drawn: from mind,
stencil
paper
pen,
on sheets of thick
pale and
cellulose,
for the heart to mend.
My unsteady hand
is my fearful friend
A soft embrace
from a warm mind
Somber
and so full of Life
clung to by the scent of Death
Endowed
with an eternal promise and regret
from veins of plants
or the glow of stars.
Cold, mechanical debt.
(my heart, so full of...)
(my mind, so hot with...)
(my body, trembling in...)
I am gulf-like
a stream full of trees and glass
echoing a promise of shattering wind.
Will I be published
after my death,
asleep predating, a life conceived.
Will I live to see myself alone,
and to discover
that which I'm not?
Or will I stutter
and wallow a curse,
Up towards the sky,
Until the final verse.
On a boast
or chasing the Rail,
pale as dirt, and shallow still.
Will my true love abandon, break, strain,
Burn away the wax,
or hurry to blame?
Omit my evils from the star-charts,
then just to vacate the void.
From the half-broken corridors of rocks,
nooks, crannies.
Carry laughter through the night
burn the effigy bowed-down,
before dawn's courageous,
ever-splaying light
Angels,
of Carlo and Marx,
plenty by noon
festoon,
again by day
thus replay,
Endeavor to infinity, fair child.
Remold the light by Day
and remold the Day
by Night.
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
If I wrote you a love poem
would you clam up in choking modesty,
embarrassed by the still raw love that's been cooking but is yet to be served.
If I wrote you a poem of friendship,
would you retreat back into solidarity,
annoyed at the bluntness of my open soul.
If I wrote you a poem of mourning,
would you fill with resentment
at my supposed plea for pity
If I wrote you a poem of joy
would you counteract the skip in my step with a lag in yours
because enthusiasm is corny in large amounts
And if I wrote you a poem of desire
Would you avert all eyes back to the screen
because Romeo and Juliet is a bit outdated
and imagination has fled from the heart and away from its sensory outlets
Or…
If I wrote you a love poem
Would you beam with a smile that radiates from your eyes and cheeks and shoulders and knees
Because you need all the passerby to know of our love, wordlessly..shamelessly..
If I wrote you a poem of friendship
would you deliver me my favorite coffee,
pick me up to go on a road trip to anywhere
If I wrote you a poem of mourning,
would you hold me and give me the smiles and hugs
that I am temporarily and humanly void of..
If I wrote you a poem of joy,
Would you let my spirit set fire to yours
So we can dance around like idiots aimlessly
And if I wrote you a poem of desire,
would your body tingle and feel like its never felt before,
unsatisfied until our legs and tongues and hearts are entwined
Or am I too Disney?
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
So what if I have squint
Or money I don’t mint
I know my eyes blink a lot
Or most of the tasks I just forgot
What is the matter if I am a buffoon
Or my life is much more doomed
I know I hue and cry
Or talking to chicks I’m a bit too shy
To those who understand
I extend my hand
To the doubtful I demand
take me as I am
not under your control
I know where I stand
Won’t change to suit your plan
Take me as I am
From childhood I did what you said
From waking up to going to bed
I am sorry I missed that one mark for DU'
Now don’t look down at me in dread
I deserve that seat more than that OBC" guy
Or the seat that rich dad did buy
Sorry I could not prove your expectation
Courses are full, don’t worry ill do animation
I’m facing blasphemies of life
I’ll write satires on Modi or the wife
To those who understand
I extend my hand
To the doubtful I demand
take me as I am
not under your control
I know where I stand
Won’t change to suit your plan
Take me as I am
Sitting in the dark I forget,
Sweetness, sourness is all I get
Everyday having the bitter pills of fate
Missing the time we chatted till late
We bunked periods to find solitary places to sit
You asked me to love you and I did
Traded my emotions for a counteract to commit
Now you know my faults and have gone so far
Your confessions in my name
Now just give you fame
What all we dreamt now and then
Now you have got someone to blame
To those who understand
I extend my hand
To the doubtful I demand
take me as I am
not under your control
I know where I stand
Won’t change to suit your plan
Take me as I am
I keep my secrets in my skin
What all I did with innocence and ignorance
Now dealing with my sins
What all is left of me is in a cage
To protect death from dying from my carnage
I have done much, don’t expect anything from my life
Let me be me, done enough truce and strife
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 3:59 AM UTC
I'm polluted with thoughts I don't feel comfortable thinking. I'm searching for an on and off switch, constantly, but I still haven't figured out why the world looks so different when I don't take my medicine so it's hard to imagine cutting my own circulation.
I am a figure of irrationality.
I counteract myself more times than I can count on a daily basis yet math has always been my strong suit. I like right or wrong answers, it's easier when there is no room to debate, but I like to argue more than I like to talk, ask any of my ex-girlfriends.
A guy I knew from high school shot himself in the head on top of a hill behind his parents house on my 20th birthday, for days I only thought about the look on his brothers face when he found the body. everybody described him in different ways, but my only real memory of him was the time I got drunk with him for the first time and I ended up running off a 6 foot wall, I don't have feeling in part of my leg because but for some reason I still wish I could hear his final thoughts plugged into my aux chord in my car so I could listen to them on my way to work and attempt to decipher,
I only want to understand.
Understanding always makes it hurt less but I think that's just because I make excuses for people in order to make myself feel okay.
I learned really early to play dead. It quickly progressed to avoiding mostly everything and using my newfound skill to become invisible. It's all just so morbid now. I talk a lot and smile a lot and enjoy life way too much for somebody who has these thoughts but one of them is surface level; I'm not sure which, I'm sure one day I will though. It's not my place to think or feel any of this, I have no right to reach out to people, but I still firmly believe that I am the owner of all my experiences. I miss feeling nostalgic. I don't care about the past anymore and it's only making me homesick for the times I spent swallowing the noise. It's just so ******* quiet now.
Why did he do that? How did it get so bad?
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 3:31 AM UTC
636
The Way I read a Letter’s—this—
’Tis first—I lock the Door—
And push it with my fingers—next—
For transport it be sure—
And then I go the furthest off
To counteract a knock—
Then draw my little Letter forth
And slowly pick the lock—
Then—glancing narrow, at the Wall—
And narrow at the floor
For firm Conviction of a Mouse
Not exorcised before—
Peruse how infinite I am
To no one that You—know—
And sigh for lack of Heaven—but not
The Heaven God bestow—
1.7k
I'm not going to write about you in my journal
Because unfortunately I feel that that form of confession tends to backfire dramatically and leave me jinxed.
It's like those ink-stained secrets wrapped up in leather counteract the decadent visions I drift to sleep with at night
And so,
No
I'm not going to write about you in my journal
You see, I care about the concept of you far too deeply to chance our lingering moments on teenage whimsical compulsions to gush in secrecy
About the way your words shifted my anchored soul,
About the flooding in my heart when you bared yours,
About the mass amounts of internal riots
(The butterflies doth protest)
Of your pragmatic, flirtatious adequacy
Nay, mastery.
No
I'm not going to write about you in my journal
For fear of risking those moments of substance:
Secret-swapping
Joke-exchanging
Soul-bearing times where I wanted nothing more than to jump eight hours ahead so that I could see the undigitized blue of your eyes and feel the ends of my nerves explode off my skin like the Fourth of July.
How is it
That physical proximity has nothing to do with the closeness we seem to share?
I feel
Compelled
by some unexplainable piece of mind to insist and hope and wish that
Like you once told me under volumes of conversation,
We are connected.
I don't want to waste any of this enigmatic familiarity and sudden interdependency
On matters of my own private indulgence
And for this,
I'm not going to write about you in my journal
For you say that you are Atheist
But I know that you meant it when you told me
Your soul knows mine.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 8:21 PM UTC
There's a fight between us
In every imaginable way
You could call it a match
But that would be misleading
When we focus on our differences
Versus is what we find interest in
I turn on the news
To watch illegal aliens versus ****** predator
There's a wall between them
That has a money stem
And perceptions
Of bad intentions
Even our valuable verses versus
When critics can't agree what to purchase
Us versus them
When us is me
And them is you
Rich versus poor
Bush versus Gore
The churches versus each other
On points as minor as the cover
They attack a mirror
As hatred becomes clearer
We fight constant battles
Our brain constantly rattles
From the anxiety brought by our fellow man
But when our anxiety is part of their plan
To rule the timid
We hit our limit
For love we plead
To counteract greed
Because when it's us versus ourself
Look what that does to our health
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 12:32 AM UTC
951
As Frost is best conceived
By force of its Result—
Affliction is inferred
By subsequent effect—
If when the sun reveal,
The Garden keep the ****
If as the Days resume
The wilted countenance
Cannot correct the crease
Or counteract the stain—
Presumption is Vitality
Was somewhere put in twain.
1.4k
Son, if you ever get a girl pregnant in high school
You better stay with her
You better financially support the life you concepted
Because you made the decision
To do the act
Its your choice to counteract your mistake
By being the man that doesn't flake
Trust me, that poor girl will be going through a world of hell to take care of that child
Son, if you ever get a girl pregnant
I want you to learn and have your head held up high and be ad loyal as you can be
I didn't raise a quitter
I raised a man that will be the difference to a young woman, even during the most hectic times.
I will be upset, but I will take the child as my own
Make sure you fight for her when people judge her falsely
Because were all human and we make mistakes
But this new life could be the imperative change for this planet
I want your goals to come alive as you plan it
Hold onto her
Hold onto your dreams
Hold onto hers.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 10:14 PM UTC
Laying down the law of how I react,
Each verse in tune to the universal drumbeat but the thing about
No longer strange the way that miracles occur on a day to day basis
Meditation extends beyond the lyrics
Beyond the sitting still and coming to a peace
Certainly it starts at that but where it ends well depends when one defines
The ending of the meditation
An alternative , alter , degree of difference , meaning to medition could be seen as a conscious act of thinking , but that does not mean there are limits or borders to the edges of the known in fact it extends beyond into the daily uncertainties that flow
Foolish atrocities line our mothers womb and the simple pleasures become lost in fear of life and the only way we know how to counteract that kind of pain is fear , a confused kind of fear
One of distaste and eventually ignorance , ignorance is bliss they say
Well I say it’s not ,just that , I’s ignorance can be hindering , to ignore the mission is the wonderful to breathe in the restraints of feeling as if there has to be an emotion for everything , a deep attachment that clings to the very surging’s of the soul and go open
Open the Pandoras box, of a place so called shame , and see who is waiting there , try the door marked locked because who knows what’s inside , try the bathwater before you step in you might get hot you might see that the mosquito bites are actually just a test to see if you can resist the stress if you can slide past the friction into the aspects of tests that eliminate the need to be greedy into each dead unto each creed
I hail from the land you call Thai , oh but there’s my Hatian side , tu parle francais? Well I wouldn’t know what to say but I’m French, my accent will tell you I could make a good brew but that’s the highland fence
What’s wrapped up in your DNA? Stories from a bygone age ,
What’s wrapped up in your psyche? Whole worlds that I can not see
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 11:27 PM UTC
it’s just how it was.
and so things ended up the way they did.
we were quite a pair;
what with my impulsiveness and your rationality.
as i took a step back, each time i recognized the danger in your eyes, flickers unleashed.
this rendezvous meant meeting somewhere a little nearer than halfway,
not without leaving a breadcrumb trail of weariness.
see, we didn’t get around to the part of burning bridges-yellow and orange and blue flames standing tall. neither did we try dousing ourselves in gasoline just so it could stay alive, sparks like flirtatious moths attune to life.
all that we’ve resorted to was crossing the bridge and rightly so. for all we ever wanted was to learn the language the city lights spoke upon the ripples delving into atlantis’ reach. there wasn’t a need to get past the platform, plainly standing there already felt right.
this is what those weeks were all for. open-door kisses and treacherous things in the dark.
the laughing fits and slow dancing in your balcony at 2am, acoustics faint on your speakers were just ways we came up with in order to **** time.
things ended up the way they did.
your messages left unopened, my secrets i’ve bared onto your lips and your tongue was the ink you’ve etched yours with on my skin. for a while it meant more than that, we meant more than just a jet’s smoke trail of fleeting stars crash landing upon reality. we could only get to pretend for so long that the crash wouldn’t occur even as we’ve made an agreement that we’d still be alright and remain with an exchange of warm smiles and inviting eyes like the first encounter. but pretending could only sit so well in my chest but it can’t quite counteract this particular feeling rushing with intensity, an outrage that’s only worsened as those exchanges are kept.
so forgive me if i couldn’t keep contact, if all your calls go to voicemail-and i try not to listen to them but ultimately fail. the only compromise i aid to is to not reply.
that’s just how it was.
things ended up the way they did.
the passionate flames surrounded us keeping a close watch so they wouldn't engulf us
we were just bridge watchers content on not going beyond nor under
-“bridge watchers.”
May 2, 2022
May 2, 2022 at 10:18 AM UTC
I love you just as every day was our first
also as it could be our last.
I love you for present, future, and past.
I doubt we'll fight one another
I need only fight myself
From over-reacting and being rash
And putting my emotions upon a shelf.
Why is it always first response
To blame outside yourself
When dilemma comes from
A spirit without inner health.
One thing I can promise you
Though I may cause you distress
Is to apologize and learn for future
I will guarantee you my best
Your love I will not test
Dear I won't blame you
For issues you cannot grasp.
I adore your scent and the smile
that flees from your face
to counteract your sadness which
within you has no rightful place.
When you touch me reality disappears
The world fades along with my tears
Your body blends in with mine
Together we create a never ending line.
Your honesty is a blessing
Your kindness is resfreshing
Your care and concern
breathe life into my being.
Your affection is an element
with a half-life of forever
on my skin and mind and spirit
your kisses tingle and linger.
No other one could do what you do
And so I am thankful to have met you
Thank you for letting me in, dear
I promise to take care
and caution with your life
I won't ask to be your wife.
I need only know I have your love
And promise to give you mine
I need no contract to bind our time
We needn't share space or money or bills
The only thing I ask we share with
one another is the true love neither us
can describe, though I've done my best here
I know it's not quite right.
**There will never exist a man I love
as much as or the way I love you.
So you have me unconditionally
until our life together is through.**
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 4:35 PM UTC
Rollin up at school
Mates and I loving to fool
Graffiti on the walls
Bullies decking the halls
An out-of-place Christmas
Dis this ***** I'll dish licks for spits
Revenge counteracted and counters counteract
Mother ******* follow law of Chemistry: react
And that's that, it's a fact
Evil reigns supreme
I'm evil too yet Devils be
Hating on me
You see?
There's no justice just depression
No real law just suppression
It's hard to imagine
That a devils invention
Is invested in protection
Law
And Order for Chaos
Does it work?
Nope
I walk down the street see six ******* blazing dope
Walk into school toilets and herb is in the air
******* blow smoke in teachers ears
They don't care
There's no prayer to save those so gone
The world is a cruel place and erases those when they are alone
So we band together
Rule of strength and defence
Is for us altogether
Never sharing secrets in our minds we be keeping
We stay awake to 8 past 8 in the morning, no sleeping
No rest for the wicked
I guess I'm just sick of ********
Because every lyric I spit
Falls hard on deaf ears
Still listening?
I reminisce blue skies
That I see through crystal clear tears
No solution or absolution to resolve this malicious premonition
The worlds in despair
No repair
Disrepair
Fire flashing embers swirl and smoke is in the air
We destroy and conquer and thrive off death
Fighting others killing hope until we pass our final breath
If this is a test
God we failed
Eons ago
I'd like to rest peacefully now
If you don't mind
I just want you to know
Action brings reaction, reaction brings pain
Don't question the truth
It's ruthless but we ****** in the brain
Insane
Now if you don't mind
I got business to attend to
And a brand new life to find
Or a new rap to recite
We're doomed, we failed,
Good didn't prevail
Evil conquered long ago
And sanity set sail
To somewhere better,
Perhaps another land
Maybe there peace and hope
Is something people understand
And prosper from it
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 2:56 AM UTC
I am made up of a collection of parts that create the path I take in this world
Sometimes the way gets foggy
And my heart floods with waves that have the power to tear it apart
I am afraid of what the unknown has to offer
I fear I may not be able to counteract the tide
My breath is a whirlwind of sensitivity and emotions
My spine is curved, my throat is dry and my immune system never fails to fail me
I am surrounded by lights
Buildings
Homes
Roads
And fields of wonders
My family is the root of my love
And my friends are the sun and water keeping me sane
I surround myself with people who allow me to love
And to be loved
I have learned loss in profound ways
And experienced heartaches strong enough to move mountains
I eat to keep me content
And I buy to keep me satisfied
The night is my best friend
I wake up better at 3am
I fall asleep faster at 3pm
I like to be alone
But not lonely
I want to stand out
But I don't want to be the centre of attention
I write to keep my tears dry
And my vision clear
I aspire to travel
Into places unexplored
But sometimes I go too far
And I lose sight of who I am
I am made up of a collection of parts that create the path I take in this world
Sometimes I'm not sure if I'm on the right track
My parts are not perfect and I too often succumb to my flaws
But I keep tape in my back pocket
Slowly pieceing together my purpose in this world
I am human
I am more than the sum of my parts
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 1:04 AM UTC
You pledge allegiance to a certain type of government.
A nation that is ruled by fat men
in ***** dens who fill the air so heavy with smoke
it tears up your eyes so you can water their poppy fields
and all the while with your right hand over your heart
that beats feverishly with the influx
of toxins that mix with your blood
and dilute the red poppy petal
with clear atoms that bubble on spoons
in the shape of bone crossed skulls.
They rule with iron fists clenched around
green paper that they take from you only
to sell you back fresh needles as necessary happiness
to counteract the sadness they have created and placed you in.
They sit there with smoke rings coming from o-shaped lips
that ring around the perpetual cycle of
supply and demand-
supplying addiction and wrapping it in itches
and demanding your free left hand scratch
and you do, you scratch so hard that your skin opens up
and the pain requires more relief.
The nation you live in waves its flag with
173 stars representing Celsius and not celestial
because space is far away from this place
and it offers too much unknown for you to think
that there is a different world besides the one they own
and maybe there is true happiness there
somewhere where hands are free from swollen veins
that act as puppet strings.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 5:00 PM UTC
Maybe in the moonrise we can sanctify the night
I'll wait until the morning, wake for you to shed your light
We'll define existence as the something we have made
Put together slowly and then altered every day
Observing all the wrinkles that have borne the weight of time
I have ceased to challenge things that I cannot define
So as we both continue on, to rearrange the seas
There is something greater that will counteract our breeze
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 11:50 PM UTC
What is the point
Of running
Of eating salad for lunch
And for dinner
Of swimming and lifting
Of taking such good care of your body
Just to fill it with alcohol
And ****
And *******
Are you trying to counteract the effects
To make up for it,
To hide?
Seems to me if you are going to waste a beautiful youthful body,
You might as well waste it all.
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 12:36 AM UTC
Last year my head was empty
but my bin was overflowing.
My hair was grey with stress and fear,
my sanity was going.
I went to see a doctor
who'd learnt neurology.
He took one look at me and cried,
"Why, this is just too easy!
At least give me a challenge
and some research work to do
I can instantly identify
the problem ailing you."
He sat me down upon a chair
(to counteract the shock)
and told me it was just a case
of Common Writer's Block.
Despite my huge sigh of relief,
the fear did still remain.
For what was I to do now my
ideas had all been slain?
The doctor was not fazed by this
and gave me purple potion
and to this day, I've found no cure
that beats pure Inspiration!
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 1:46 PM UTC