"degraded" poems
I am a stranger to myself.
I do not know how to be gentle, compassionate, or loving, to any part of myself.
I have always been able to present myself well in most public situations,
be it work, school, parental obligations, parties.
I can be calm and level-headed.
I am able to problem solve in logical and intelligent ways.
I can be humorous and glamorous when need be.
But it seems as though that power and confidence,
that grace and strength, is only a mask.
I now have more days when that mask feels heavy.
And when I lack the strength to put it on, I have to hide myself.
And I’ve been hiding a lot lately.
I hid yesterday.
I am hiding today.
I hear the words of care that others speak,
but they don’t feel real to me.
Sometimes I can accept their words while knowing
that they do not realize that I am a disgusting person who deserves to be treated badly.
They see what I want them to see.
I watch them interact with the humorous Nita, the intelligent Nita,
and I watch it all from the outside.
I want so much more for myself.
Who is this Nita that is respected by so many?
I want to be loved and to feel love.
I want to be free from the father and the host body.
I desperately wish to be free from them, and not just in a surface way.
I want them out of me forever.
My soul cries out for kindness and gentleness
and yet when it is offered I cannot accept it.
I want to be respected and loved
and yet I do not know how to love or respect myself.
I know how to pretend.
I wrote the book on how to hide your feelings.
I know how to smile, I know how to laugh.
I know that I have been given gifts but I don’t know how to use them.
And the ones who were abused, ***** assaulted, degraded…
they are afraid to dream that there is more to life than this.
They cannot fathom that there exists a world
where they can be loved in a gentle way, touched in a way that does not hurt.
They stopped dreaming a long time ago.
I want to stop fighting so hard,
so much of the time...fighting myself, the therapist
the fighting stubborn one just comes out in full-force at any perceived threat
and I want her to stop fighting when there is no reason to fight.
I want to learn to trust in myself and others.
I want the chaos and confusion inside my mind to clear
and I want some sense of cohesiveness and togetherness inside of me.
I want to believe that there is more to life
than pretending behind an illusion of imaginary togetherness...
more than just feeling ashamed and degraded.
I want to trust that I am allowed to heal.
I want to believe that I am worth the time and the effort it is taking,
and the pain I endure every day.
I want to believe that I am not what they said I am,
that real love actually exists,
and that I am worthy of receiving it.
And even as I write this, there is that voice inside speaking to me,
"But what if you're not worthy, Nita? What if you are what they said?"
She is a big part of me~ she has a loud voice.
And if I don't believe in myself...
how can I convince that part of me that I am good and I am worthy?
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 5:29 AM UTC
In case no one gets it,
i collect my excerpts
better
than i spell my prayer.
Spills my personal feelings
and trouble,
longer than i bow
on my knees.
i memorize every shame
and quote it
in a piece of paper,
the same stroke
they did to break
my bones.
Marks down
every of their tone
when i got yelled at,
being degraded.
In case no one gets it,
i use my fingertips to fight.
Being sure of my words,
but never myself.
They can take off my guts,
break down my sanity
into pieces of insecurity.
Yet i’m here to remain bold
until the last spill of ink,
and my pen
can no longer stand.
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 4:01 AM UTC
Self worth. The sense of ones own value or worth as a person. So how much do you have? Shes thinks if I fit in and change the agenda then I'll be much happier then, than with what I already have. If they don't say I'm pretty or the crowds aren't pleased then do I have value? Like I can't be happy with myself but I need to hear it too. My life is more than what I can just make do. They have to tell my worth then it'll be true. If he doesn't tell me my value then is my self worth through. If I'm not cool today, famous tomorrow, then all my efforts right now have been in vein. I had a girl once who told me that she was happier being in a relationship, but every one ended up with no real valuing shift. She said if I just have a guy then I'll be more than just a petty thrift. If I have *** and get wasted, ill be more than a girl in her parents basement. Not realizing her logic to that situation was misled and outdated. There is no question that your uniqueness is the greatest. Don't let the world make your self esteem so prostrated. Because I'll tell you that your worth more than the world and it should bask in your greatness. It was about that time she butted back in and said but I'm wretched and filthy a guy won't love me, will he? And I said that's what's amazing about self worth. As long you keep your head up then it doesn't matter what he thinks your worth. You were intricately made, a masterpiece of work. God made you perfect and righteous so how dare you say your worthless when he says you're priceless. Women are degraded but yet they are the very essence of our being. They are the seed of the earth that holds all its meaning. So don't be demeaning of how valued you are no matter if crowd doesn't find you worth seeing. You know that saying about giving credit, where credit is due? Well if that's true then I think it's about time to give women their rightful credit too. Because your the worlds greatest and wonderful masterpiece made in you.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 2:56 PM UTC
Forgive yourself
Perfect was never a word suited for you
Love yourself
Everything comes back to this
Love your sister
She has been picked apart, degraded, and has an internal war eating her from the inside out
Love your brother
He has a time stamp of deliverance to a life of incarceration, bullets released from an absence of sense, lack of educated, blind ambitious followers.
Raise your head
You are a Goddess created
with disarming beauty in mind.
Continue to place one foot in front of the other
You are meant and strongly designed for forward movement.
Take no steps back, do not bow down your head, do not close your mouth
In fear that judgment will fall
It will, but you must speak anyways.
Your voice is imperative
to the growth of lost girls who are unsure what real women are made of.
Your voice is imperative to the peaking of the minds of men unsure what to look for in a Queen, show him.
Your voice is imperative to the readjustment of the image of
Black Women with large voices
Black Women with high diction
Black Women with love language
Black Women with literary genius
Black Women filled with nothing less than the peace & love God has manifested within us.
Black Women
Black Women
Black Women
Who love Black men like double chocolate moist bliss
Who love White men like dark roast coffee filled with cream
Who love Latino men like Butterscotch candy dipped in chocolate
The list goes on
Black Women who love like we are bound to implode if we don't give the universe what it is that we need back.
Black Women
Your Mother
Black Women
Your Sister
Black Women
Your Friend
Black Women
Your Lover
Black Woman
Love Her.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
American Democracy
is setting a trend:
American Democracy
is a Sitcom, or perhaps a Game Show
of demagogic, narcissistic sociopaths
tricking and manipulating the Public
via various sources in a highly consolidated Media industry
into thinking they vote for a particular flavor of Tyranny
when in reality Today's flavor of Tyranny is all decided for you
because the burden of Choice is far too stressful
for the Moderner without proper medication,
and the power of Choice may require some sort of educated critical Thinking,
some sort of re-edification
which is far too much for us to handle
in this socially sanctioned doped-up state
and with such an intentionally failing Education system
from K through 12 and beyond.
With American Democracy,
We have a grand Illusion of Choice.
It's so convincing that many believe the Illusion is True.
(Sort of like hew we think of Reality, but with Choice of Government!)
For American Democracy,
They don't want mass Education.
They don't want mass Edification.
They don't want Critical Thinking;
Those things prevent a Control by few.
In American Democracy,
They intentionally destroy progresses made, like Rights,
They perpetuate stigmas about things like genders and the concept of "race" itself
They propagate Terror as their Sheeple scream from the sidelines for more
They defile the sanctity of Human Experience, of Reality itself
and chain us to a system that benefits only a few
while destroying everything else,
like Climate and Environment.
These Demagogues are Satan, if Satan is real:
They tempt us with the things we don't need,
filling us with Stress, Desires, Prejudices and Fears,
and ceaselessly wage war on institutions of Education,
all the while keeping us from finding the things we already have within each of us.
This System of American Democracy
has degraded into a corrupted fractal
of the ages-old ways of Tyranny and Terror:
Aristocracy, Plutocracy,
Patriarchy, Oligarchy,
Kleptocracy, Demagoguery,
Bankocracy, Corporatocracy,
Fascism;
Tell me,
What is the ******* difference?
I mean,
even Adolf ****** was elected democratically
under the pretense of "Change"
then, for weeks later, suspended civil rights indefinitely
after a likely false-flag 'attack' on the Reichstag in 1933,
(for which the Nazis blamed the communists.)
under the pretense of "Security":
Demagoguery runs Amok
Among disedified Minds.
They say "Freedom" and "Democracy"
as if it vindicates their Totalitarianism.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
I showed nothing but kindness,
Thought we've shared real happiness.
As time goes by,
We've been close to each other.
But then, in the end,
I found out that it was just a big lie.
You were backstabbing me!
Behind my back you became an inventor-
A great inventor of lies about me-
Lies that degraded me.
You've been so cold to me
And treated me badly.
You even compared me to others
And made it a point
That I am not as good as them.
But still, you are not contented with that
You persuade others to treat me the same way you do
Every time I'm with all of you,
I feel so alone;
I'm out of place;
You all made me feel like I don't exist;
As if I'm just a thin air.
Is there something I did
For all of you to treat me like this?
What is your problem with me?
I tried my best to blend in,
I've been a good company.
But why are you treating me like this??
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
When some proud son of man returns to earth,
Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth,
The sculptor’s art exhausts the pomp of woe
And storied urns record who rest below:
When all is done, upon the tomb is seen,
Not what he was, but what he should have been:
But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend,
Whose honest heart is still his master’s own,
Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,
Unhonour’d falls, unnoticed all his worth—
Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth:
While Man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven,
And claims himself a sole exclusive Heaven.
Oh Man! thou feeble tenant of an hour,
Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power,
Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust,
Degraded mass of animated dust!
Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat,
Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit!
By nature vile, ennobled but by name,
Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.
Ye! who perchance behold this simple urn,
Pass on—it honours none you wish to mourn:
To mark a Friend’s remains these stones arise;
I never knew but one,—and here he lies.
4.4k
_las mujeres nacen de la tierra en la gloria de la más alta_
dys·to·pi·an/disˈtōpēən/adjective: dystopian:
relating to or denoting an imagined place
or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad,
typically a totalitarian or environmentally degraded one;
_"the dystopian future of a society bereft of reason"_
noun: dystopian; plural noun: dystopians:
a person who advocates or describes
an imagined place or state in which
everything is unpleasant or bad;
"a lot of things those dystopians feared did not come true"
[A dystopia from the Greek δυσ- "bad" & τόπος "place";
alternatively, _cacotopia, kakotopia_],
or simply anti-utopia; a community or society
that is undesirable or frightening; It is translated
as "not-good place" & is an antonym of utopia,
a term coined by Sir Thomas More
par·a·dise/ˈperəˌdīs/noun
noun: paradise; plural noun: paradises
in some religions; heaven as the ultimate abode of the just,
heaven, the kingdom of heaven, the heavenly kingdom,
Elysium, the Elysian Fields, Valhalla, Avalon;
"the souls in paradise"
the abode of Adam and Eve before the Fall
in the biblical account of Creation;
the Garden of Eden/noun: Paradise, Eden
"Adam and Eve's expulsion from Paradise"
an ideal or idyllic place or State;
"the surrounding countryside is a streetwalker's paradise"
Utopia, Shangri-La, heaven, idyll, nirvana;
"a tropical paradise"
bliss, heaven, ecstasy, delight, joy,
happiness, nirvana, heaven on earth
_a ********** who seeks customers on the street_
"this is sheer paradise!"
Middle English: from Old French paradis,
via ecclesiastical Latin from Greek paradeisos
‘enclosed royal park,’ from Avestan pairidaēza ‘enclosure, park.’
_Superficies terræ puella_
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 2:28 PM UTC
When I was young,
I had long curly hair
That cascaded down my back
Like an ominous waterfall;
So dark and thick, it seemed to go on forever.
But, when I was in school, it was always tied up.
It was a challenge for my mother to tame it with a brush
And keep it in the confines of a bun.
She said it was to keep my hair
from getting to my and others’ faces.
But some people still managed to make me feel bad for having such “unruly” hair
when the most it’s been exposed is when I take out my hair tie just to tie it back up again.
For years I tried to straighten it;
Hair rebonding every year,
Straightening iron ever morning,
Damaged hair and damaged pride every day.
They say a woman’s hair is her crown;
She must wear it with her chin up
And flaunt it unabashedly.
This is to the girls who do.
This is to the girls who dye their hair magnificent colors
To match their colorful personalities.
This is to the girls who cut their own hair
Because hair salons charge so much for a trim.
This is to the girls who shave all their hair for charity
Or for support of the girls in chemotherapy.
But this is also for the girls in chemotherapy,
Who are still thriving even though they’re suffering.
This is also to the girls whose hair are being treated like an anomaly,
Their braids being pulled and afros being patted.
This is also to the girls who can’t land a job
Because their skills were degraded by their “unprofessional” hair.
A woman’s hair is her crown
But a queen does not need a crown.
A queen is not just some girl with a shiny thing on her head.
A queen is a figure of power, compassion and grace.
She wears the crown, not the other way around.
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 5:51 AM UTC
Sun-filled mornings burn bright
Warm smells of life dashing by
Squint eyed despair peeking out of the dark
Bright memories gone degraded by time
Broken life shuffles slowly by
Rings click on the spokes of a chair
Wheels turning slowly around
Bumps on the door jamb from failing sight
Lost mornings sunny dipped in light
Burns on the minds sticking to life
Soft darkness covering slow moving despair
Bright days dissolving into lost nights
Squint eyed despair and fumbling thoughts
Slow moving wheels and dangling legs
cc1210
Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 9:52 PM UTC
"America used to be the land of passionate, skilled Labor
then it degraded into the land of exploiting that Labor
and now it's simply the land of Exploitation."
"Y'know, that seems pretty true;
it is a stereotype that Americans just exploit whatever it is,
whether it's the Japanese man's politeness when we bastardize the eating of Sushi
or a legal loophole a corporation finds and uses to maximize profits with minimal morality."
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 11:25 AM UTC
*we are witness to atrocities
committed by regime
over its peoples
over time*
1.
we are witness..
shattering glass of reality arranged into chosen shard-feeds
like omni-gov surveillance into meticulous mind-grafts
spluttering eternal-stats for public mind control
spewing mini-truths of perpetual war raids
disillusionment of history forever rewritten
control supply-and-demand
create dark-cloaked dilemma and monitor shortage and famine
make-believe elements so well played to auto-frenzied latch
thinking is degraded and actions.. well, less said
2.
diligent and loyal yet harbour secret-hatred
feed visions stilted by politrix
deception and manipulation
propaganda is the oleaginous-game by wand-over-mind
totalitarian is the kingpin-holder of cards
and yet, who is really being played!
eternal marionettes on a conveyor-belt
can't even play with yourself alone
your **** your **** your every move..
watched - surveyed - and studied
by that ubiquitous-bulge eye you cannot escape
right opposite your low hard-bed
you're broken into popping-parts
that YOU won't recognise!
thoughtcrime-police is gonna accost ya
get up, comrade.. get UUUUUUUUP!
3.
we are witness
life-tube covered in darkened vapour-swirls
we are witness
children conditioned to watch their parents.. too closely
we are witness
truth so smothered, now re-fed by repeat-metaphor
we are witness
dictata.. dictata..
we are witness
austere existence in a tacky one-room flat
we are witness
subsist on black-wheat and imitation-repast
we are witness
regurgitate the party-dialect on and on and on
(after a while, we end up half-believing.. )
*only the clock which strikes thirteen
can smell the charred-reality
as leftover-truth is shoved
into incendiary obsolescence*
tick-a-damn-tock
and that would be..
one
S T - 26 sept
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 11:53 AM UTC
Squeezed by society,
But not getting crushed.
Morals tested and despised,
Not appreciated,but degraded.
Deeply perplexed by nowadays,
But not in despair.
Therefore do not lose heart.
Nor grow weary of doing good.
Always be hopeful of what's to come.
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 10:45 PM UTC
A calamity of views abused
When the alcohol is strong
The choices go wrong
Everyones offend through Misinterpreted temptation
Using my over analyzing brain to calm the degraded
Crying over a mundane sane
Looking for persuasion
Through persecution
Picking out your weaknesses
Bleakness, is a majestic trait
Not intentionally
Burdening their agony
My name is animosity
I depict a character that sympathizes
Your alibies
Using my vulnerability
Contaminated humility
Finding
The hiding
No problem suggesting
My dark secrets of the night
Applying my skits that fit right
Paranoid to be viewed in a mortifying light
I would be lying denying my animalistic ride
I have scrutinized
Remorsing
I see earth born
Godly you stand
In the morning
Behold deformities
You fit the norm
I bow to your Godly proportion
In vein this I pray
Amen
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 8:41 PM UTC
I am seen more frequently as an object than a human being
People act as if there is no soul inside the mannequin they're seeing
I am referred to by things like **** beautiful, and Honey"
When I answer with offence they say they're only being funny
I walk away feeling degraded with an overwhelming sense of shame
Strangers make me hate myself and never learn my name
To hear a ****** cat call sends a shiver down my spine
to be objectified is understated, and society says it's fine
It makes me sick when I am treated like a piece of meat
My one solution is to cut two eye holes in an old bed sheet
When strangers say I'm pretty I no longer feel an ere of confidence and pride
I feel a need to run away, be alone, and hide
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 1:22 AM UTC
I kneel before you though you are no God
I give you my shame, lonliness, hopelessness and pain
You take it all with no argument, no hesitation and no judgement
When I kneel before you I feel the world staring down upon me; disappointed and accusitory
What would they say if they saw me in these moments?
The world, friends, family.......what would they say?
I can't stop spending time with you though I have tried
Unfortunately, it only takes a thought
It use to be harder to give it all to you
Forcing myself to bare those things to you.........it use to be so hard
Now it is easy! And I hate myself for it.
To keep myself sane, to keep it all inside, I run my tongue across my gums to feel the missing molars, the hole in the bicuspid, the degraded bicuspid and think in my head......
"Fight the urge. Fight the urge. Fight the urge to kneel and purge."
I go silent. I go numb.
I beat it, I hope, at least for today
But, I see you and feel the need to give it all to you
And in that moment I am beautiful, or, at least I hope to be
I made the mistake of listening to society
They told me to be the way they dictate on tv, in magazines, on billboards, and bus signs and newspapers and the radio
I tried because they said it wasn't ok to be me
To just be me
I wasn't enough
Why can't I be enough?
Thoughts. Thoughts. Thoughts! It's too easy!
I kneel before you though you are no God
I give you my shame, lonliness, hopelessness and pain
You take it all with no arguments no hesitation and no judgement
"Fight the urge. Fight the urge. Fight the urge to kneel and purge."
FLUSH!!!!!!!
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 8:50 PM UTC
Ride Red Tricycle
ride soft and slow,
through cool breeze
and bloodied knees,
through the sun
and the snow.
Ride Red Tricycle
even when the sweat
glistens your face,
you are whole
you are pure,
you are in
first place.
Ride Red Tricycle
your time is slowly running out,
your tires are deflated
your innocence,
degraded
you almost can hear
your mothers shouts.
Ride Red Tricycle
far away from those shouts,
and never doubt those pedals,
while simplicity is still alive
because once your tricycle is gone
life feels like a lie.
Ride Red Tricycle
because that crimson complexion
never lasts,
soon it will be ghostly white
and all that will be left
is rusted memories
of the past
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
Won't you come and comfort me
Make it all better
As every bit of me aches
I cannot take this
Being put down
Degraded and made to
Feel so much less than worthy
How am I suppose to live now
Without my sunshine
How am I to live when my dreams are fading away
Dying
I don't wanna give up yet.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 12:25 PM UTC
She fed her own sick, twisted nature,
with the pain and grief of others,
Oh, how I pity her ever so poor mother,
for one just cannot teach herself hatred,
As a poet once cruelly, bluntly stated.
Her kindness slowly degraded,
As she was hated.
But, she was not to blame.
For she was once trapped in her own sick game.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 6:33 AM UTC
I'm sorry
If I've ever hurt you
I've never been gentle
I'm sorry
If I've ever mistreated you
I've never been too nice
I'm sorry
If I've ever degraded you
I've never been understanding
I'm sorry
If I've never made you happy
I've always tried
I'm sorry
If I've never measured up
I've always attempted to
I'm sorry
If I've never been good enough
I've always been a failure
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
Lamentation; infelicity through neurotransmitters
Passing fleetly; swift but disturbed
Grids of brainwaves for the degraded
Overhead LED view is negroided
Chapter 1 Migraines;
A klaxon that grains into migraine
From there on out, strolling convulsion lane
Deriving from deception; antibodies start to lead loosely
Throe after throe I choose not to fuss
Laceration in hemikrania is conversing with the rest of my body,
Frequent as days turn nightly
I host the severe megrimly
Chapter 2 Vomiting;
A horendous bile builds up in my throat
Moaning like a ghoul; I banish the gloats
Disgorging from nothing, Heaving and heaving the dry
Although I force myself not, all the nosh turns into emit rye
Vital fluid very crimson soon came
From the cranium, I dislose, head pain
Frequent as the waves harsh blows
I host a ***** hose
Chapter 3 Tumor;
A neoplasm underneath I've found out
Unvisible but there; my flesh will start swelling undoubt
Below I feel like a mutant
All putant and disformed
Like globular liquids dripping from sewage waste
As long as I can still haste
Crescendo and surge won't ado
Frequent as traffic builds a rush hour
I host a cyst that is sour
Chapter 4 Deaf;
An absense of all frequencies
I daze everso daily;
Feeling like an earless statue; sound unaccompanied
Missing the wind's howls that ululate,
Clamors and bellows that spoliate
I can't sight the same verbiage
Without sonancy to inflicit, I see one big mirage
Frequent as birth enfolds
I host a soundless toll
Chapter 5 Brain Cancer;
A malignant fate told today
Disease spreading like a machine,
Programmed to enquire all it knows
A gruesome and hateful dose;
Withering casually away
Grown apart of, I'm the prey
As we hunt the beasts'
An invisible naked eye is poaching
Frequent as a house infested
I host a cancerous clothing
Chapter 6 Death;
A termination soon to unfold
I am as finished and ruined as story told
Biological function ending
Senescence through spending
User maat I haven't seen all wanted
Alas I am greatful for what has been daunted
Frequent as a death anew
I host a dissolution
My evolution; through.
Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 7:09 AM UTC
I am the graphite, in the pencil which you hold.
I make my appearances where you place me, and nowhere else.
You use me to scratch out your thoughts.
You use me to draw these lines of conformity, to which I wish not to abide.
But I must - as you create these lines from myself.
Write on, you hold the power the same way you hold me,
With a firm, yet slightly loose grip.
You hold all control.
"I do not wish for this."
I was once full, respectable and of use, but you have worn me down.
I have been degraded, and as simple graphite I can not simply put myself together again.
You have diminished my encasing, sharpened away my boundary's.
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 9:47 PM UTC
I looked upon the greats, and found nothing they didnt take from the pre-existing grates, that drained our goals into slates, degraded our souls into fakes, and mistook our traits as hate, before we faded into an abatement for safetly, safely enslaving our notions as nations, from the oceans, they saved me ... made me ... who I am.
But nothing is sacred anymore
Only deplorable horror
To numb the chores
Of that other lord
That the imaginitive ignore
Pretending to abhore
The things they cant feel anymore
But what for
There might be more to a coin flip than explored.
Intent and decent Vs stoical form
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 2:08 AM UTC
The writings on white sheets,
of paper, meander into corners of peoples troubles,
hopefully they taunt correct hemorrhages that will impulse something.
I hope that when I write some person is confused.
Or else I've created no symbolism.
Ive created nothing of worth
or
of
more than it is.
This sallow fickle body I traipse in.
It's got bones filled with osteocytic stones to shape it.
They are calcium degraded, then traded for rigid text.
This body is hard and hollow.
Like bird bones.
Like the bonds between atoms.
This sick cadaver is nothing less.
Our cells become separate selfish entities,
incapable of helping themselves.
Indigent children with no child hostels.
With no help for the homeless youth of our own corporeal phantoms.
When the Aids takes us all,
The cancer takes its toll.
When the whooping cough kills our hopes.
When we die to our dreams of home.
We die all on our own.
The skin becomes parchment.
Some day these bones can be the frame to a poem of worth.
Hung in a rich mans house.
On his wall awkward awards adorned.
Creating what I never could by a poet who was as perfect as the others.
Now the calcium lies in me,
as I lie between sheets of this meat,
of human humus before it disintegrates,
to make plants much more beautiful;
but that calcium, that carbon will make a page.
That bone will make a frame,
and my frame will stand tall like the last building left in the earth.
As there are no more humans alive to see it.
The last iris of the universe will be. A sun.
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 11:31 PM UTC
A change of scenery, that's all they said I needed
Different faces and places to pick me up as I lay defeated
Somewhere new to erase the blue
Somewhere where the past is unrecognized and all I could see is truth
There are times when I miss the things I hated
All the things I wept about and the people who degraded
All the things that helped my heart fall apart
The things that watched me crumble right from the start
I want to let go
I want to breathe and let my spirit show
But letting go can only be so easy
Even if I am in a change of scenery
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 2:28 PM UTC