"criticising" poems
As each day passes I hate myself more
Why does it seem like I’m always in the wrong?
“Know your place”, “you forgot your place” has become an axiom in my head,
I cannot help but think that I’m such a burden, inferior, useless, and shouldn’t live instead
I hate myself so much, everything is my fault no matter what I do
My character is criticised every single time, the shadows on the wall chiding me for being such a fool
My heart’s so pain, I can’t breathe
With every breath, the more I hate me
The shadows haunt me, criticising every part of me
I need to change my entire self, the more wrong in myself I see
I hate every inch of myself, I don’t deserve to live
Why is it so painful to be criticised continuously, staying positive while taking all these in is a myth
The light casts on the shadows, bringing much happiness into my life,
My heart is full of joy during these times, the sadness and hatred becomes a lie
But when the shadows form and haunt me around at times,
I’m trapped - hatred for myself and depression hides in my cry
“You’re weak and immature so you cry easily” was what I was told,
Weakness and immaturity adds on to my list - of the lowest lows
I can’t stop crying and wanting to self-harm, am I weak?
Or maybe those words has caused me to fail to accept any part of me
The shadows overwhelm me and engulf my sleep,
“You’re undeserving of anything”, is all the shadows have bestowed upon me
I always feel like I’m at fault even though I’ve tried, why is this so?
My character is questioned - I hate every part of my soul
I can’t help but wonder to myself…
Is the day that my tears dry,
Also the day that I die?
Nov 5, 2022
Nov 5, 2022 at 1:02 PM UTC
I am tired of series of unfinished poems that scream for my return.
I am tired of internal, trenching,
desperate calls
for pen and paper.
I am tired of empty pages,
and pens being put down.
I am tired of the fragmentary
bullshit-business I have with my declaration of expression.
I want to write about rough ****** efforts
and soft
aching feelings.
I want to write about Coca Cola freezies
(because they don’t even exist, why?).
I am tired of looking at everyone else’s work,
admiring it, criticising it, admiring it, criticising it, admiring it, crying, loving it.
I want to be 60 and look at what I wrote When I was 19,
And sob.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
There was a flower, blossoming on the shoreline. Beholding the serenity of the seas and criticising the rise and fall of the indomitable tides.
It swayed in the balmy air and loathed the dusty storms.
It adored the sun's radiance and mourned the moon's norms.
It extolled the aesthetics and execrated the wrongs.
It denied the nectar but appreciated the honeycomb.
There was a peyote, living in the dreary sands. Mesmerized by the great dunes, standing like a tomb.
Relishing the scanty rains with much aplomb.
It grows its roots in the search of water, many call it a coxcomb.
Such is the folk, unaware of the real beauty for so long!
- Swasti Jain
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 11:02 AM UTC
*Women bursting crackers of laughter
Different entertaining crackers of different colours
Gossips and rumours releasing the highest sound effect
Children running amidst alike an engine train
Men bursting crackers of laughter
Two different kinds of different colours
Boasting giving the highest sound
While criticising wives coming adjacent
Train of children goes through that track withal
Nix distracted by any means
Enjoying in their small innocent world*
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 12:17 PM UTC
To criticise others seems soothing as cool breeze
People say anything without a single heed.
Without aknowledging how their words might impact someone's life
They keep passing opinions with ungrateful pride.
Some are able to overcome these comments and try to move on in life
While some are demoralized and end up with commiting suicide.
People must know that its not an achievement to criticise someone at every point
Maybe that person is already going through a hectic life.
No-one knows what it would have cost him to reach at a specific point
And some unuseful words may leave a never-ening depression in his mind.
He might not be able to excel in any aspects of life henceforth
And might end up thinking his life nothing more than a unbearable load.
If you think of yourself in the shoes of the person you critice
Then you might understand that its not a thing of pride.
Years of hardwork, sacrifice and dedication comes to an end with some criticising words
And thats the point where we might lose one of our precious jewels on earth.
So lets stop critising someone just to put him down in life
Despite help him in overcoming difficulties and achieving great heights.
No-one knows how your small support can lighten up someone's darken soul
With such deeds we might end up being a true human as a whole.
May 31, 2022
May 31, 2022 at 6:17 PM UTC
I know I should stop criticising
Every minuscule error in revising
The grammar in here
I should not interfere
And I really should stop analysing
But I cannot erase what I see
And the teacher insists inside me
That I share what I know
About grammar and how
To revise before posting for the world to see
Your and you're are some major sinners
They make good poets look like beginners
Plus confusions in tense
Make them seem rather dense
And that's sad when they should look like winners
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 12:27 PM UTC
Hiding behind that elaborate disguise, that façade.
The world is watching, waiting, judging;
What is life, but this big masquerade?
An elaborate disguise, a well-crafted charade --
My ears have grown weary of all the criticising
Hiding behind that elaborate disguise, that façade.
Concealed behind this paper mask, I am on parade.
All that pretense, the deception unending.
What is life but this big masquerade?
No choice in how I am being portrayed
Tears on paper cuts -- but I keep smiling
Hiding behind that elaborate disguise, that façade.
All those things I am trying to evade.
Deception's price. Who am I fooling?
What is life but this big masquerade?
How does one face life’s endless tirade?
I can feel my walls crumbling.
Puppets on a string, foolishly played.
What is life but this big masquerade?
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 12:48 PM UTC
I
I'm trying t' find my ID.
I think I'm missing it.
This thing,
This bright, shining light,
It's hiding in my blindsight.
I'm swimming in mist,
Trying t' find ... "I"
First I'm living
In my crib;
Clinging wrists.
Flitting my crib,
I'm Shy
Crying, whiny twit, missing bitty,
With stinky kids, kicking kitty.
I'm missing my crib.
I'm piling thinking bricks with big kids.
Slimy, smirking ***** hiss 'n' spit.
I'm sitting still in ill-fitting shirts,
shirking sight.
Hiding might blind ****** kids crying, "It's billy!!! Skinny **** 'n' smiling in fits.
"Try finding kind kids x"
Finding "whys" in rising minds.
My mind grinds.
I'm kicking tins, spilling drinks.
Sitting in IT,
Sir chillingly insists "it isn't "fly" spilling drinks! "Shy" brings skills. "Why" brings ills."
I'm still shy.
This crib's tiny.
Tiny minds, blind by bling.
Fit chicks with big ****
Thick ****** thinking with *****
I flit this Brit ****
Brisk flight,
I find "I"
Simply shimmying "ir(o)n lik(e) li(o)n in zi(o)n".
In Brit, I'm still shilling it,
Finding thrill in it,
Hiding 'til it lifts.
I'm brisk fixing it,
I'm hiding in drinks,
Finishing in clink.
Trying things,
High by night,
Slinking by, finding light.
Thinking "this is it!! I'm in!"
Tricky light. Light trick. Sight trick.
Lying in my mind
It's still ****
Is it?
His birth...
This child is my kid!
This brill kid!
I'M in this kid!
Big grin :D
First kid is big kid,
Mid kid is silly kid,
Quickly hitch my Miss.
Third kid. This kid, this girl is my girl.
Brill kids!
I bring my bling by flipping kids thinking bricks;
Fixing bits in thinking ink;
I'm finding it stinks.
Kids drink slick skills.
My mind chills with mind filling drills.
Kids grinding, crying spills -
"Sir, it's **** innit?
With missing mining, missing mills,
Im plying skills by filing bills."
I'm plying skills with mind pills.
Mrs "I" is criticising my id
Im minding my Ps n Qs
Biting my lip
Fists tight, shifting slightly
Slinking nightly
This is ****
Hit slight hitch
Hit BIG hitch
"'kin *****
I finish with my Mrs
Kids split 'twixt cribs.
Kids trips fix splits.
Kiss lips ***
"Night night x"
"Light?"
Click light.
Right, "night!"
I'm hiding my ills in girls.
IT pimps, swiping right.
Primp ****
Minging swill.
Fit chick.
Swift flirt.
Flirt, kiss, flirt, kiss.
Big ****
Tight slit.
Milky spit.
Wiping ****
Hiding ***** sight in mind,
I find it sticks.
I drift
Stick tight
Fighting my plight
Grin
"It's 'right"
Missing my crib
My ID
I'm finding my mind
Sticking with it
Fighting silly flirting ****
Try finding inspiring sights
My kids
My crib
My Inking
My Writing
My mind
My eye
I'm kind
I'm "I"
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 8:03 PM UTC
Skin tingles
Blood boils
Life flashes
Burning midnight oil
Eyes twitching
Fingers scratching
Feet tapping
Tossing and turning
Pressure for perfection
Mind racing
Body pacing
Criticising every inch
Panic set
Calm exterior
Pressure
Pressure
Pressure
Of feeling inferior
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC
Nothing I do is good enough
It feels like I am a punching bag for them
Yell at me, pick on me, critic me
tear me down go ahead
When I fight back to defend myself I get
"You just have to get the last word don't you?"
Well here I am getting the last word
I"M SORRY!!!!!!
I'm sorry I'm not good enough
I'm sorry I don't do what you like
I'm sorry I'm me and not who you want me to be
I'm sorry I don't fit into you're world perfectly
This is who I am I'm not going to change
Are you going to love me less?
I'm terrified you will....
I'm terrified you'll throw me away
toss me aside and give up on me
Please don't I'm begging you.
I promise I'll be better
I promise I will be a good girl
Just don't give up on me
Please stop yelling at me
You may not care, or think I'm being dramatic
But it hurts me when you do,
Your words and you're yelling
your nit picking and criticising
They tear me down and shred my self conscious
I've got enough stuff to worry about
I don't need you pileling on top of it
I love you Mama But you keep tearing me down,
I don't know what else to do or say
so Here is my last word
I'M SORRY!!!
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
'Put my ice cream in the oven.'
'Apply some lipstick.'
'Stop winning and criticising.'
'I understand everything just fine thank you.'
But she laughs at her own jokes, she misunderstands mostly, she is loved by me.
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 7:54 PM UTC
*don't worry, even i think this is all a bit too wacky... but then i eat the placebo of feeling the emotions of https://goo.gl/tzEPhO / dido's no angel album, and i really concentrate on the symbol... and it feels less wacky after a while; i'm always apprehensive about influencing people, even if they number the 1 or 2 or 3, less than a dozen... these are sensitive areas, where there's a seemingly en masse acceptance for either accepting or criticising such potent reminders of human history... always apprehensive, only because i do not really care much about illuminating footnotes... always apprehensive... it's an apprehension born from not wanting to influence new arguments in these debates.*
why is it always either 1:30 or
13:30 when men hold sway the hour hand
and women the minute hand...
or it's either 18:05 or 6:05 when women
hold the hour hand and men the minute
hand? well, never mind, a new
interpretation of the ☿ (mercury), lineage
of all sourced prophecies, the crescent horns of
mobilised islam, by the power that mobilised it,
that of the feminine nature...
and that femininity mobilised islam in
christianity with the emergence of the nag hammadi
library, and no official plan to instigate it
along the lines of canonical orthodoxy...
an undercurrent emerged in christianity with
the parallelism drawn by the historian josephus,
a false prophet, the unearthing of the library in
egypt... the flight of joseph, mary and infant jesus
to egypt... but as the symbol clearly suggests...
the crescent moon became mobilised by a
feminine ontology... St. Thomas' gospel working
its way, into the mainstream, although well hidden
in the undercurrent... replacing all known
canonical orthodoxy - and you know,
if your prophesy about the end of the world,
and to prove your prophecy to be true with the
culmination of the atom bomb, and the only
way you can imagine proving your words true...
then i guess you'd have to get yourself crucified
to make everyone follow your words to ring true
should they actually be rather unconvincing;
a crucifixion would desirably create a sperm-like
influx of people who'd believe you
and follow all the preparations through -
Pythagoras' estimates about the future had
about 30 followers... and he's still covered in dust
in school libraries and mathematics lessons;
judaism is still a minority religion:
the last words of convictions from it were written by
Isaiah, who was cut in half for going among the
people, as a former courtesan.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 3:03 PM UTC
It's like I'm trapped in my head
So many thoughts running through
Happy, sad, deep, shallow
Who the **** knows
I'm going crazy
And no one understands
No one knows how I feel
Oh please get real
You're insignificant
You don't matter in the long run
Be extraordinary
But there's not point
You can be extraordinary and still have no
one understand at all
Nothing will fix you
No one can fix you
Deal with loneliness now
Because it's your perpetual state
Discover who you are
Don't go too far
Your thoughts will protect you
But they're the things that make me blue
Nothing makes sense
Everything will make sense
Someday they say
But if I wait for that day
And I hope and pray
Will the orchestra really start to play
The clear notes that can explain away
All of the problems that plague me today
I hate myself
Could I be more selfish
Could I be more of a hypocrite
Criticising others like taking a hit
Getting high off of bullying others
I sit here looking at my little brother
He thinks he knows all
Well so do I
I wonder what he thinks
As he watches me cry
Is life one fluid movement?
Or some sort of line graph
I do know that life is full of judgment
And to always try to laugh
I think it's moments like these
Where I don't know if I'm ecstatic or depressed
That my mind is truly at its best
My brain's a train
And my fingers run alongside
I'm trying to get these thoughts from in to the outside
But they go too fast
Now they're in the past
I can't think straight
I wish I could make them wait
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC
on Wednesday I have to go to school for pre-registration
I just want to
shoot myself
seeing all those people again.
happy smiles on their faces
having to face those certain people I happily avoided all summer
I find out whos in my classes
I find out who I will be sitting next to while being taught a lesson
school really brings me stress
just knowing I have to deal with all the judgement all over again is torture
it wouldn't be so bad if there was no one there
this generation is horrible
criticising everything you do!
no wonder some people avoid going to school some mornings.
I would too.
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 11:19 PM UTC
Why not death take me soon
To a heaven or hell
Believe being happy there
Rather than being in this world
In need of peace of mind
In a space of different world
Fed up of family and friends
Utilising and criticising
Eyes are dry and no more tears to fill
Aching mouth with a faking smile
No more energy to travel so long
With these bags of burden so strong
Enough is enough of all these wounds
Wish to live without scars
No swelling,bleeding and chopping off
Why not death take me soon ?
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 1:42 PM UTC
Fed up with criticising souls,
In all I see or do,
It's easier to criticise,
Than do right, over to you.
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 4:35 PM UTC
I've found some folks on facebook
I think i'd really like
and then there are those certain ones
I tell....go on....get on yer bike
I've met many folks while writing
And most of them are nice
The others just are spiteful folks
To whom being nasty is a vice
I've travelled round the world with friends
Most I've never met
But, I'm never saying never
My life's not over yet
There are some I met through Titan
Our dog, and our best friend
There are others who just found us
And I will stick with till the end
Then, there are the ones who hate
They hide there in the dark
Tearing little pieces off of you
And they do it for a lark
They hide in anonymity
Criticising all you do
I've run across a few of them
I blocked them all...did you?
But as they say a bad penny
Will always be around
And no matter where you go on here
That bad penny can be found
I'm staying on because I won't
quit and let them beat me
In fact I'm sticking 'round to say
You ******** all can eat me
This is a public forum
And I think that most are good
But, for the rest of you...get off the cross
We need the ****** wood!
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
Frozen in place I stood,
A deer caught in a hunter’s crosshair.
I never thought you would,
But you did; you killed me, right there.
I am angry at myself, most of all;
For staying when I should have left,
For not dodging the bullet and taking the fall.
Twice now, I found myself broken;
Carelessly adrift in life,
Like a raft on the ocean.
Too much pain this chest,
These monsters in my head
Feel like an obstacle I cannot best.
I don’t just want to be loved;
I want us all to love and understand one another.
‘It’s not possible, we’re too different,’
Those who wish to rebuttal will answer.
No, that is the distant path you chose,
I choose to keep my humanity close.
And yet, I cannot stop the terrifying flashbacks.
You made me feel like a train veering off its tracks.
Like a bridge that leads to a precipice,
Nothing but a cold, dark abyss.
Meet the millennials -
The most criticised generation,
Suffering from emotional stagnation,
Raised on a steady diet of instant gratification.
‘What do you want, then?’
I want us to feel the soil with our bare feet.
To associate freely with others we meet,
Not bow down to the pretension of the elite.
To embrace our soul,
Not shun it and drive it into a locked room;
To retrace our role,
Not simply run our life’s course to its doom.
We are being led astray,
Our hopes and dreams hidden away.
We have no room for thought, little to say,
For few want to go out of their way.
No criticism, no originality -
No witticism, no vitality.
We are criticised for criticising,
And we are ostracised when we act defying.
We are the paralysed;
Our fears leave us immobilised,
Anxiety and depression,
Killing variety of expression.
We languish in prisons
That we build for ourselves in our own head;
We have nightmarish visions,
Like a guild of the living dead.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 6:57 AM UTC
We were at it like a couple of rabbits back then…
Eating salad I mean! Trying to lose weight!
Laying off the ***** keeping up the exercise.
press ups till you’re dizzy, can’t see straight
And look at them rippling thighs!
Never having a lie in or getting up deliciously late.
But running on the beach early doors, increasing the heart rate.
Heart and lungs that’s the thing - get a proper sweat on!
So good? Yeah! A crafty beer? Well maybe - but please, don’t let on.
The odd indiscretion is OK as long as it doesn’t show.
But the day of reckoning’s looming again and they’ll all have to know…
And in spite of all your calorie counting and life becoming a blur.
On the scales (these 'ere must be wrong) you’re just the same as you were!
Come Friday…”Christopher has had another good week everyone; he’s lost 6 ounces!!”
Daily exercise? Look at them rippling thighs!!
But I’ve done me best I’m on rice crackers with lemon zest
three times every day… I’m exercising… she’s criticising
And I’m worried I’ll waste away!
"No" she says… "your love handles haven’t disappeared.
Until they do it’s more of this and less of that.
And…you’re too shagged out anyway!"
Weight Loss... I don't give a toss!
Sep 16, 2020
Sep 16, 2020 at 9:19 AM UTC
Finally "He" was born , gave the sweetest cry
doctors printed the gender "M" , given the biggest lie
relatives and visitors rushed to see the baby
sharing sweets and happiness , father was busy
after few years , he became the prettiest boy
wished to grow hair , but his father became angry
he whined and whined and whined terribly
but was forced to stop , when they said boys don't cry
he soon found another way to be happy
that painting the nails , with the colour ruby
mother got shocked , but tried to understand calmly
worried what people would say , she began to worry
cosmetics and jewellery, mother kept everything away
few months has been passed , she thought now everything's okay
today he's an educated person , being ever more wealthy
posted a pic on insta , of himself painting the nails and lip-ivory
the pic gone viral, people began criticising & tagged #girly or boy?
"it doesn't matter" , some raced to reply
a group began reposting , tagged #human being rapidly
commented, "anyone will bleed when cut" no matter he/she/they
he continued to love his inner "she" ...
Jun 13, 2022
Jun 13, 2022 at 12:36 PM UTC
*Stretching on his easy chair
Drowned in deep thoughts with his eyes closed
A nostalgic journey of his childhood
Dissolved in an ocean of his mother's love
Protecting him in her tears of poverty
Thunder of scream poking into his ears
Ringing of bell hit by hammer
Wide long lips spitting out criticising words
Standing in front of him his wife with a spatula
Looking at her the naive old man
Missing those moments of his mother's touch !*
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 12:04 AM UTC
I think I have social anxiety
Always feel like everyone's eyes are on me, criticising me.
I look up, and no one's eyes are on me.
Do I want their eyes on me?
Fear.
The fear of their eyes on me
It doesn't haunt me.
I just hate the way my heart speeds up, everytime a man looks at me.
A certain type of fear has been instilled in me.
And everytime a guy hits on me.
I always respond...negatively.
The fear of a man's eyes on me.
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 11:32 AM UTC
Everyone is so obsessed with suffering
Everyone thinks everything is wrong
Everyone preffers to complain
No one looks out through their window
Realizing the perfection of beauty
It all seems so impossible
Excuses of human pain
As if we were all so undesirable
As we were all so wrong
As if beauty was an illusion
We seek what's out of our control
Its cool to be depressed
And everyone has a broken heart
What kind of beings have we created
We can't distinguish hate from love
Everyone wants to be so special
By being a simple pawn
By doing what you are supposed to
By thinking the way you are told
By criticising through appearance
By forgetting about LOVE
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 6:21 PM UTC