"criteria" poems
Our parents are always telling us , you have to go to school, that you'll learn everything you need to know before you're ready for the big world, and that'll you need it to get into your dream job
But now a days our education isn't about learning, its about passing
Our education now isn't the same as it used to be
It teaches us that if you're not at a certain grade level, you will not succeed
That if you don't meet a certain criteria, maybe you're not for fit the course
This education system doesn't teach us whats really important for the big world
It doesn't teach us how to live, how to do taxes or how to survive
It never taught us the living expenses or how to buy a home
Never taught us what to expect once we leave for college or how to balance our schedules
No. It only taught us homework, about a plant cell, about tangents and circumferences
It taught us that homework is more important than family
That it's more important than being a kid and having a life
It taught us that if you spend time with loved once and didn't do your work, you're setting yourself up for failure
They pile us with work it feels like we cant breath
They never once thought of the other class assignments that must be due not even 24 hours later
They make us memorise things that will no longer be important when we apply for a job
We study for hours in hopes to pass that final test that we'll soon forget
But what are we suppose to say when someone asks us how we're feeling?
We were never taught that
We never memorised an equation to help us find the answer
We were only ever taught to keep our mouths shut and do our work
Its quite funny what we learn in school now
Things more than 80% of the students will never have to use let alone see again
School was suppose to prepare us for our future
For the job choice we pick
Instead we meet and learned quadratics and plant cells
We were taught homework is what your focus should always be on
We were never taught about the future and what to do
And most importantly
We were never taught how to love ourselves and the things we should be greatful for
They've turn us into sad, mindless robots that's are more concerned about grades and passing than whats going on with the family
We lock ourselves in our rooms doing homework for 6 hours than talking to our mothers or fathers who wonder about us
We were never taught the importance of family before it was too late
Every single highschool student wishes they can turn back the clocks, but it'll never work
We were taught the hard way that you don't really know what you have until its gone
Something we weren't prepared for
They never prepared us for the future
Instead, we prepare our self for the possible failing outcome
How are we suppose to make a living for ourselves when all we have learned was the stress over homework and family?
The depression over a failed test or assignment?
The lost feeling of the lost time?
How are we suppose to love ourselves when all we do is put yourself down because of school?
This education system never prepared us for anything
Instead, this education system officially has broken all of us.
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 4:41 PM UTC
The freckles on your face blend your skin in a blanket of unique criteria
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 1:59 PM UTC
Your tall body has always enticed me
Your long arms have kept me safe
Your scruffy beard makes me smile
And your smile makes me melt
Your hands hold mine and make me feel loved
And wipe away the tears
Enough of these superficial reasons
Your love has comforted me
Your humor has made me laugh
(Until I snort)
Your words have made smile
And cry
But always out of love
Your generosity
Has never left me empty handed
No matter how much I beg you
To keep your money for yourself
Your caring heart reminds me
I'm not alone
Somehow you stopped the shaking trembling in my anxious thoughts
You brought me back to reality
You stopped me from dying
You stopped me from hurting myself
You stopped me from starving
From expelling the contents of my stomach
But most of all you gave me hope
A reason to carry on
A reason to fight my mind
To tell the mirror it's a liar
To throw my blades away
And eat whatever I want
A reason to keep living
And to love myself
I know you don't feel good enough
But look at all this evidence
Change the criteria in your head
The requirement of "good enough"
Should only contain one thing
You
All you have to be is you
To be good enough for me
Because I ******* love you
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
accept your personality
except when you dont meet the criteria
accept your body
except if it doesnt look like the photoshopped models
accept your clothing style
except if it doesnt fit into the listed categories
accept your weight
except if its not in the doctors average range chart
accept your loss
except if it starts to bring others down too
accept yourself
except if you dont then i will
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
I peruse exhibits through the modern art museum
Nails hammered into wood
And trash strewn on the floor
I couldn't help thinking
What the **** is this ****
These can't be the champions of modern art
Moonlight and Arrival morphed my empathy and perspective
The theater is fine
Music is there for those inclined to discover it
So what about visual art?
I know a few things for certain
Nails hammered into wood never changed my perspective
Nor does seeing a garbage can in a museum affect my empathy
Trash is not art
Trash is trash
Waste meant to be thrown in the proper receptacles
So as not to obstruct our view of true beauty
I will concede that
Beauty can be found in everything
Depending on analyzation variation
But those that live an examined life
Constantly see silver linings and sour grapes
Experiencing comfort in tundras to the point of banality
Those visions are much more interesting
in their organic state anyway
As opposed to an interpersonal expression of the seemingly obvious
So what to hang in an art gallery?
I have my own opinions
At this point in time
No visuals elicit more emotions
Than dank memes
When I'm consuming art
Questions are innate in my consumption
Is this a vessel for empathy?
Is this examining the human condition?
Dank memes meet those criteria
Satirizing the powerful
Highlighting emotions and virtues in ourselves
That we're either proud or ashamed of
Memes share a common thread with poetry
In the sense that everybody can create memes
Or be a poet
I get the impression that
Universality of art diminishes it's importance
In the minds of patrons
There's an element of truth to that
But what makes art special is quality
And what makes art truly special is high quality
And that's what belongs in museums
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 11:23 PM UTC
Miscommunication
serendipity, anticipation,
blurred reality -
lost in the dialect
of a dream,
in pursuit
of Love
find callous irony;
subversion of desire
what's it all about?
to know and be known.
Mere seconds
of scrutiny
inferior,
I am shown.
Her appraisal
eviscerating
my warm flesh,
her tilted criteria
supplanting the interior,
voluble with
saccharine neologisms
and preferences
for the exterior.
(not mine)
Ironic was my
attraction to
her brain.
Lines, features
and symmetry,
image - the commodity,
aesthetics, the
currency
in this transaction,
cursory liaison,
incendiary,
collapse of the
insurgent ego -
there was no
us in the
the affair of
nothingness.
Bruised in
abasement,
I'm not the one -
I thought I was.
Hyperbole -
the center
of delusion,
a curious
diversion -
avoid my life.
The allure of
the illusion,
transference,
the ordinary to
the romantic,
the perfect other.
Searching, the
absorbing project -
aquiring wholeness,
did she reject me?
I rejected me.
The escape into
fraudulent
sadness,
to mourn,
is to displace,
the disowned heart
by self is tragic.
Should
I not mourn for
the one I'm
deferring?
Inside of me
It's safe,
to lament
the loss of
identity -
tension is agony
without resolve
sequestered,
in my pain,
self-imposed
familiar terrain,
upon retrieval,
awaking in
renewal,
mystery and destiny
providentially,
I am free.
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
They say a dog chooses it’s Master
and i believe a submissive does too.
Because just moments within meeting him,
i swear I already knew.
Set aside any criteria
and any particular credentials.
That something you can’t quite put your finger on,
Is one of my fundamentals.
I let him look inside my soul,
i show him I’m a dreamer.
Already he’s controlling me
and has altered my demeanour.
My logic screams inside me NO!
-Don’t sell your soul to the devil.
But my senses scream inside me YES...
“In his presence you will revel! “
The more we talk, the more I feared
as he changed my personality.
Yet further i delve into his aura,
although anticipating fatality.
Throwing caution to the wind,
i ignored my logic mind,
Ready to give him all of me,
til he suddenly declined.
Confusion strikes, I feel a loss.
Not knowing what I’ve done.
He tells me you’re not serious
and only seeking bedroom fun.
I don’t know how to prove myself,
wondering if this is just a test.
One day he’s here, the next he’s not.
I feel so... Dispossessed? !
I’d usually give up once rejected
but I know I must persist.
My inner sub is telling me
she needs him to exist.
You see jus moments within meeting him,
something was oh so very prominent.
I’m sure he doesn’t know it yet,
but he’s destined to be my
DOMINANT.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 1:42 PM UTC
If I were ruler of all nations... As one of Gods creations
There would be policies created from this societies frustrations
I wouldn't waste your time... In fact doing so would be a crime
It wouldn't be about politics with all it's dirt & grime
It would be about the people
It would ensure our rights are equal
Spread to all from high above, preached atop the highest steeple
And I wouldn't be afraid to say...
That expiring some freedoms may be the only way
And that would mean taking certain peoples "rights" away
Some freedoms are given away too easily
They should require much harder accessibility
Which will aid in the filtration of humanity
One right I would retrieve because it's abuse is so hard to believe
I'd make it official that not all persons would have the right to conceive
Not unless certain criteria are met, I'd have certain rules that would be set
I'd put a hold on this right until one disproves their ignorant
And since ignorance is bred I wouldn't allow our future to continue to be mislead Stuck in communities that will never get ahead
If I were faced with this position, I have no doubt in my disposition
Life skills would be taught in school, a required graduation precondition
I'd advocate the importance of community Gone would be the privilege of immunity And with it would go all feelings of disunity
To ensure all are exposed to equal possibility
Early education would include lessons on life & moral responsibility
To ensure guidance to all despite personal accessibility
I'd replace things like algebra and womans lit with classes on life knowledge
It's more important that the youth learn financal stability and manners, those who want to learn the square root of X can take that major in college
Priority should be that each leaves high school with the tools to survive
Each would leave with equal opportunity to prosper and to thrive
Oh if I ruled the world!!
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 8:44 AM UTC
Not too tall --
Don't want him towering over me
Looking down on me
Humiliating me
In more ways than one.
Eyes should be dark --
Not pale.
Don't want them
Cold, empty, icy
Don't need
A shark-like gaze
To chill me to the bone.
Not too large --
Don't need him to tell me
Just how big and strong and intimidating he is
Can't have him saying
Outright or otherwise
That he could hold me
Or anyone else down.
What else are arms for?
Not too crude --
In fact, I just might want him to talk
Like a woman.
Don't get me wrong --
My vocabulary is colorful enough.
It would be hypocritical to rule out profanity.
But, as soon as you call me or her or him or this or that
'BITCH'
The bile will surely be climbing my throat.
Not too proud --
Yes, confidence is attractive
But conceit is certainly no match.
I don't care if he thinks he looks good --
I will most likely agree that he does --
But one who can not admit to his mistakes
Let alone answer for them
Is a frightening caricature of humanity.
I am so flawed, love
But my flaws are not the cause of yours.
Not too dense --
Anyone who reads this
Male, female, or other
And calls me a 'man hater'
Or asks what I would think of a man
If he wrote something like this about a woman
Should run along
For that is not what I'm saying
Not at all.
I know what I deserve
And it's just what everyone else should get.
I just believe
That 'do unto others'
Should not die
Once the ring is on the finger
Or the name is on the dotted line.
I just believe
That 'love' should not be bastardized
To mean an unconditional, everlasting loop of
'Whatever you want
Honey.'
Only give what you'd want to get
Only take what you know you need
No matter the giver.
Bestow and accept nothing less
And as much more
As you can manage.
Believe me
I'll keep doing the same
No matter what you say.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 12:03 PM UTC
Everyday’s affliction with what we know is missing
Countless moments wishing that fishing was as simple as whistling
Remembering that willows wither in winters un-warmed
and wandering wonders willfully repose when rivaled against ripening woes
Come closer potential memories of exposes’
Clothes skydiving with expectations of faceplanting into the floor
Lady classifications disguise the actions depicting a *****
Heaping hopefuls cascade over glistening gazes that persuade the perilous to lay dormant
Come closer to the oops
That second guess in the back of your head that taps the shoulder and says go
That same go that was an initial no and now corruption has spidered the criteria
It seems the cat may have found the trick to the ball of yarn
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 10:26 PM UTC
My job is to bake cakes
I once magically created cakes of every hue
Cakes that tasted like fruit or cream
And others that were super sweet
Still, others that were filling and heathy
I was only limited to my creativity
Then the cake bosses
Ordered me to bake only vanilla cakes
They said that all cakes are the same
And my cakes must meet their standards
Yet their criteria was vanilla and plain
I was forced to throw off the fruit and cream
And mute the rainbow of colors
Even to add vanilla and sugar to my heathy cakes
If that wasn't bad enough
The cake bosses pressured me to fill unrealistic quotas
And to treat all of the cakes the same
Even though they are, naturally, flavored differently
Then my budget was cut and bakers were downsized
Next, I had more cakes to bake and less time to prepare
I was even told to do without eggs and milk
But the cakes must meet even higher standards
How does this taste?
Does it leave a bad taste in your mouth too?
It's not a piece a cake
But I choose to bake on
Believing that I can still bake special cakes
The batter just gets thicker everyday
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
I have fears – they are very real to me. But contrary to what the some may think, my greatest fears are not rejection and abandonment.
My greatest fear is that everyone will continue to turn their heads while victims are screaming.
My greatest fear is that survivors will express exactly how they feel, whether verbally, or acting out, and they will continue to be invalidated by being told they need medication and therapy in order to control their behavior, thereby reinforcing what they learned as children.
My greatest fear is that victims will continue to be silenced by therapy, or numbed from medication, and the clinicians, the researchers, will continue to ‘theorize’ and develop treatment that, in the long-run, is not helpful because they, themselves were NOT abused and have no idea what really should be done.
My greatest fear is that survivors will continue to be lab rats in the development of treatment that is not helpful, they will continue to drop out, time after time, and they will continue to self-harm, ‘repeat the trauma’, and possibly commit suicide because they believe no one cares.
My greatest fear is that the statistics will grow and no one will do anything about it because they do not know what to do. These are the facts:
**A report of child abuse is made every ten seconds
More than five children die every day as a result of child abuse.
Approximately 80% of children that die from abuse are under the age of 4.
It is estimated that between 50-60% of child fatalities due to maltreatment are not recorded as
such on death certificates.
More than 90% of juvenile ****** abuse victims know their perpetrator in some way.
Child abuse occurs at every socioeconomic level, across ethnic and cultural lines, within all
religions and at all levels of education.
About 30% of abused and neglected children will later abuse their own children, continuing
the horrible cycle of abuse.
About 80% of 21 year olds that were abused as children met criteria for at least one
psychological disorder.**
And this reflects only what is reported. Imagine what that percentage would be if all of the unreported cases were included.
And of the millions of children that survive the abuse, many grow up to be adults who are able to put it behind them, succeed and present themselves as an acceptable member of society, and many of them do not. But what are we DOING about it? When will people stop turning their heads? When will we finally stop, look and listen to these children being abused and to the adults who were abused as children?
When will we, society, decide that child abuse, and **** and ****** assault are important, and affect millions of lives every year, and that it can be just as deadly as cancer. When will we finally stop whispering and turning our heads and actually face it and do something to stop it, and effectively treat those who ‘survived’?
I hope it happens in my lifetime, and I hope I can make a difference!
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
Tomorrow the baseball Hall of Fame will announce the newest members selected to join her hallowed hall. Ken Griffey Jr. will surely be selected.
I wish Hello Poetry had a Hall Of Fame. There are so many poets and good friends worthy of.
In absence of, I wish to nominate the following poets for the first class when and if it is ever created. My criteria for selection to this Hello Poetry Hall of Fame are:
A feeling heart
loves poetry
is a friend to others in the community
A Triple Crown.
Time and space are the only reason I have not listed all poets here at Hello Poetry:
Vicki (My Queen, a love child of Whitman and Dickinson)
Christi Michaels MoonFlower
mark cleavenger
Musfiq us shaleheen
brandon cory nagley
The Masked Pimpernel
rebecca askew
Sjr1000
Pradip Chattopadhyay
elsa angelica
Eddie Starr Poetry
ryn
Weeping willow
KetomaRose
Steven Langhorst
Mike Essig
Willard Wells
Woody
Elizabeth Squires
SoulSurvivor
Pax
Grace
Dave Kavanagh
Sumina Thapaliya
FJ Davis
SE Reimer
Sally A Bayan
solEmn oaSis
Melissa S
Arcassin B
..... and to those I failed to mention I apologize. I am thinking of you, also, but time and space are the only limitations to my list of nominees.
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
Always scanning
Always searching
Every face
Every glimmer of red hair
It's a weakness, that red hair, she said
With a self-deprecating smile
Are you her?
The one we've been looking for
The one to complete us
A three-part us
So many criteria
Chemistry
Values
Maturity
But most important,
Belonging
So much longing
To have hands as full as my heart
Am I ignoring the possibles?
Am I looking too hard,
Trying too hard
To force something out of nothing?
Gaining nothing but
Another gaping hole
Wounds to lick clean,
Scars to soothe
His and mine
Learning how to trust
Again
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 8:35 PM UTC
having the best of intentions,
but lacking good inventions,
and criteria I cannot mention,
'cause I lack proper intuition.
I missed the final right turn,
causing some bridges to burn.
I seem to never ever learn
to love one, instead of yearn.
I always throw the first stone,
talk to myself on the phone,
use language to cut thru bone.
that's how I end up alone.
having the best of intentions
but lacking good inventions,
and things I forgot to mention,
'cause I lack proper intuition.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
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Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC
The reason there aren't so many vampyres
around these days is they don't like TV hype
and the intrusions of TV news crews. It transpires
that vampyres prefer late hours and like low light levels
because they're egregarious and don't like to be seen inebrious
in the middle of their heinous, intravenous revels.
Also, unfavorable reviews about transfusions
and the confusion caused by AIDS, at this juncture,
has definitely reduced the appeal of being seduced
by some crazed and gurgling Transylvanian
bloodsucker lusting to puncture the jugular,
or any other available vein again,
especially when you don't know if they've disinfected their fangs
or only licked them after draining their last victim.
After all, vampyres were brought up in castles
when there weren't antiseptics for gargles
and they haven't been taught prophylactic criteria
against such apocalyptic viral bacteria.
And if you've ever seen vampyres with condoms
on their teeth, you'll know what I mean.
It's a scream. Everyone finds them hilarious. It'd be easier
to die laughing than to go down with anemia.
Also, like everyone else, vampyres hate ridicule.
No-one likes being seen as the fool.
And the other reason vampyres are scarce now
is that there are so many genuine muggers, hoods, crims,
druggies, financial leeches, homicidal maniacs,
psychopathic liars and genocidal tendencies to conjure up real fears
out there, that there's not much room left for quaint old-fashioned vampyres, poor dears.
But do you know something? Even though they were naughty,
I miss their occasional **** I know it was gory,
but those kisses, oh boy. We got into the femoral artery inside the thigh. It was ***** But when AIDs came along,
that was it. Definitely bye-bye. Nobody wanted to die.
These are the facts.
So these vampyres were starving and they reverted to bats.
Did a midnight flit,
and that's the end of my story.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 6:01 PM UTC
It’s not a ranking or an achievement
As if far from the “top.”
It’s an advancement
Starting from the “first place”;
The greater magnitude being a positive progression.
It’s not even a race in the “first place.”
A dual-digit place marker can and should indicate you’re moving forward.
At this point, you meet the requirements and criteria
For adult access to many sights, tastes,
And times.
Of course, that’s not the ultimate cause of celebration
For being in [the] “23rd place.”
When you’re in [the] 23rd place, you’re in a comfortable position
And not necessarily at a crucial extremum of attention.
There will be those behind and those in front,
So, though you keep your own pace nevertheless,
To know you’re no longer in first place,
Yet not in last place of your course of path,
Means that you have some to teach
And still some who may offer pointers, tips, tricks, inspirations,
And the gift of encounter, however brief or long.
There are many who long to be in first place or last place
Because the extrema tend to get the recognition.
The important insight is to recognize that, not only do the numbers matter little,
But you can make them stand out, like the number 23.
There’s random selection, too, amid those spontaneous humor-goers,
And then there’s placement and fixation
With purpose, sincerity, and intention.
You’re 23 not solely based on record
Or coincidence;
You’re 23 because you lived out the previous age
In every way: what you missed, what you learned, what you offered,
And what you planted.
On your birthday and every day,
The newness longed for arrives in a time not desired or unwanted,
But at a time just right, which still causes waves of pain and waves of relief
Across space anyway. Happy Birthday Devin!
You’re in [your] 23rd place!
Celebrate this checkpoint!
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 11:04 AM UTC
Trillions of tiny warm pieces of coral, rock, and sea bones run smoothly through the hands and feet of one female being.
She sits upon the shoreline watching the way the tide and waves change...watching the almost reddish-orange sun set.
The sun that she is mesmerized by.
Mesmerized in such a way it causes her mind to open up, like a whales mouth when it's ready to satisfy it's hunger, looking almost as if its about to swallow the whole ocean itself.
With her brain burst asunder by the wonder of God's creation, she starts to think..thinking as she never did before, and putting thought into things that has never even crossed her mind.
Time is now infinite.
As hours pass, which seem like seconds, thoughts are no longer the only thing that surrounds her.
She is now accompanied by a Dream.
A dream which is as sweet as the very breeze that swifts across the ocean tops and embraces the most exotic extracts from the fruits and flowers around her.
A dream that cannot be expressed with words, but more rather jesters, thoughts, and actions...acts of love and uncontrollable feelings of desire and emotion.
Though in the deepest urge of reaching this dream, one never truly realizes how much pain, heartache, and sorrow one must endure to accomplish this ultimate beauty.
The understanding of this so called pain or love-sick criteria is, for some, too overwhelming for them to comprehend..and so we, me, you, or whomever simply just give up.
So truly, the strongest really do survive the pain love brings.
And so now, as the day becomes night, the sunset fades, and the oceans calm...that young female being heads back to another place of paradise, where she will lay her thoughts, dreams, and concerns on a pillow.
Yet as sure as the moon is forever, so was once a dreamer who is now the dream.
-Bobbie Leigh
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 1:45 PM UTC
they said he should submit this
make submissions and do readings
this is the way it’s been done
for many years
but he didn’t really want to
a couple of rejections left him weary
and he’s a writer not a performer
the contests say “all styles and subjects”
but surely they have criteria
not this one
not this one
this one
the all inclusiveness is a lie
the judges know what they want
he wished they’d be up front and specific
but it’s all about the entry fee
they pretend to be seeders
offering everyone a chance
to grow and bloom
but they’re actually weeders
quickly quashing poems
rubber stamped with doom
they never really stood a chance
because it’s all about the entry fee
“Don’t self publish”, they said
“You’ll regret it”
he did the design and layout anyway
“Can ‘we’ make changes to the cover?”
who the hell is “we”?
this is his book?
sure he wanted sales
that’s what publishing is about
but sink or swim
he wanted his book, his way
especially his first book
and he’s a stubborn *******
the internet is accommodating
this IT age makes it easier
the process has been long
with glitches and obstacles
doubt and procrastination
but the would be destination was worthy
available at amazon
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
Glassy eye.
While one sleeps, keep the second open blankly.
People believe you when you look at them. Stare at them. Break into them.
They'll believe in your strength. So you won't have to.
Tangled yarn.
Matted hair; red. Vibrant. Stand out before you stand up and sink.
Pull it. Yank it out in devastation, frustration, desperation.
Can you feel it escalate?
Ripping thread.
Twine comes tangled; tousled ropes of faith strung out. It's all a mess.
There's a breaking heart here somewhere. Dig beneath the filamentous skin.
If anyone dares to dig that long.
Stitching smile.
I'm tearing. Falling apart at every seam.
Stitch me...pin me back together. Lift me up; I'm weightless.
I present to you a plaster smile; don't forget to stab in dimples.
After numerous unfaltering years, it's wearing thin. A tiny break appears.
All the strings are coming loose.
Iron-on teardrop; a permanent stain on a withered face.
There are many uses for a Ragdoll.
Play with her. Use her. Dress her. Change her. Throw her. Hold her. Hate her. Tear her. Tell her.
Everything.
She'll never let it go.
Dance with her. Sleep with her. Hide her. Break her. Blame her. Love her.
Trust her.
Her stitching will hold. The perennial line of happiness will always prevail.
Ragdolls look brightly into any light. Opening lifeless arms to please. Everyone. Anyone who needs them.
Now, someone needs to need her.
A Ragdoll is good for many things. Fitting any character and criteria.
A Ragdoll can be selfless, ageless, fearless, reckless, seamless.
However.
Never
worthless.
Aug 13, 2010
Aug 13, 2010 at 12:52 PM UTC
Fish heads for dessert
Confetti-saltwater taffy for lunch
Canned laughter for snack
And peptide bonds for a well balanced breakfast
"But whats for dinner?" says The Windbag
"But whats for dinner?!" screeches The Mimick
Hmm, well we have a choice between the sociocultural criteria and a toxic relationship
"Can't we have popsicles with answer-less riddles on the sticks?" asked the Windbag
"Can't we have popsicles with answer-less riddles on the sticks?!" copied The Mimick
"Leeme alone!" cried the Windbag
"Leeme alone!!" yelled The Mimick
In the end the decided to eat the pockmarks of bird feeding cohorts
They picked their teeth with proven points
Then watched The Windbag play the glockenspiel
Followed by The Mimick on the xylophone
As I put the leftover scraps in Tupperware, making sure to burp it before I put it away
-Tommy Johnson
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC
My country Nigeria,
Am a citizen by birth,
That’s the Criteria,
A blessed nation on the earth,
Driven by atrocities as bacteria,
A place I was proud to call home,
Am a negros and Nigeria is my home,
But she’s going down the pan,
Causing mortality in my clan.
Due to manifestos,
We commercialize with hoes.
It started with our independence,
We thought love would take
Prominence,
But rather war, corruption and coups,
And Tribalism feed on us
My plea goes to the world power,
Our corruption is taller than any tower,
Our leader convince us that colonization
Was necessary,
Seems we we have cross that boundary.
Please colonize us again,
Because decolonization has no gain,
Remove all these leaders,
The made us cry aloud to mothers.
I admit we weren’t ripe,
We just wanted to be free,
Like the smoke from papa’s pipe,
Please colonize us! At least
Of these situations we shall be free!
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 10:24 AM UTC
I'm not sure what they said
what is done really messes with my head
Communicating with butterflies always ends with them in your stomach
then we age and wonder why we're aneamic
just say yes or no
there is no pain in rejecting a question
there is only pain in a lack of communication
as messing with the senses creates an awful sensation
so just stop ******* around
and say what you mean
Anxiety, depression, migraines, mysteria
they never make much sense
now i know this isn't in your criteria
but just be honest
be blunt
it will end all pain
I may be ambitious
you may be delicious
but miscommunication is disatrious
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 3:06 AM UTC