"demeaned" poems
*Didn't it sound a lot like something
He said a long time ago?
Now it makes sense
Dripping from honey lips*
I lowered the box into the ground
Empty but only I knew as much
Nothing to see, nothing to touch
My own heart was buried deeper down
Looking up I saw you shed a tear
For all I was laying to rest
Was to you a memory blessed
A short respite, the re-emergence of fear
Or maybe I had it wrong
You could have known all along
I could have been the one deceived
Or maybe I only thought you believed
Step back
She sings the Mantra
Let her finish
Before we continue
*Hare Krishna ¥ Hare Krishna
Krishna Krishna ¥ Rama Rama
Hare Rama ¥ Hare Rama
Rama Rama ¥ Krishna Krishna*
I could tell you reasons for what I've done
Before the passion flamed
I dreamed her naked, unashamed
Innocent as the day was young
I thought it was love that drove me on
Even when the snake bared it's fangs
Injected it's venom of change
Convinced my compassion was strong
Now I know that it can't be forgiven
The arrows pierce you from behind
Weaker still your weakened mind
And contaminate your imagination
Stole a page from God's playbook
I'm sorry, my old friend, that you fell
But I have ****** myself to hell
Just one page was all it took
*this end is for me even more than it is for you
the fog in the forest is still sickly thick
and you can't see the forest for the trees
I dragged it out for too long
but I know your ignorance is blissful and I don't blame you
I'd do the same thing if I were in your shoes*
It was my own guilt that stopped me cold
Made me think twice of what I'd done
I know you'd just soon it go on and on
(And on and on)
But seeing you so often demeaned is getting so very old
•••••••••••••
Cry when you hear the song
Crying is often the best thing to do
Break down for an hour, in the back of your mind
Know it gets better when the grieving is through
Don't take anything she said for granted
She felt she had good advice
But you gotta let it work
Learn how to pray
Build a fortress around your mind
Evict the rogue voices
*"This is rebirth
The hardest word
Held under water
This is death
I'm out of breath
Held under water"
- Dustin Carpenter
"Held Under Water"
(big sleep., 1988)*
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 12:54 AM UTC
You stripped my soul,
Ripped me from my shoes
Where I stood
in innocence.
You extracted my childlike traits,
Treated my body
As your ********* paycheck.
My whole future
Was laid out in front me.
Now you fabricated a dent in it,
One that has shattered me
Forever.
I used to smile,
Be full of life,
Slept at night,
My body never reeked the incessant scent
of the lifeless souls you sold me to.
My heart ached everyday,
I longed for home, where safety was waiting for me.
Everyday I was a raindrop,
Trying to cling onto the window of hope,
But always slipped away.
You don’t understand the pain,
You’re only in it for the hunnits
Please understand,
That my dehumanization is not worthy
For what you gain.
My body became an abstract canvas,
For your ugly pleasures.
Bruised, bloodied, beaten, and battered.
Cuts and aches line my delicate skin,
But to you all my pain is fake.
You slapped my delicate face,
every time I asked for my precious prize of my childhood,
every time clear oceans surged out of my eyes.
“Shut the hell up!” You yelled
As I let out wails of agony.
You stepped all over me
Like I was a used cigarette.
You ignored my shrieking screams,
Actually,
You loved it.
You forced me
To comply with their beastly gratifications,
Only in return for your abundant riches.
You stepped on me,
like I was a ***** grimy, muddy puddle,
over and over
Even so,
I was still considered desirable.
I am NOT your canvas.
I am NOT your paycheck.
I am NOT your plaything.
I am worthy of honor,
worthy of respectful awe and delicacy.
I did not feel the worth of a human being anymore.
I felt ill treated, broken, bent, demeaned.
You stripped my soul, and,
Deprived me of my self respect.
And I will never
Ever
Be the same.
The only thought
That seeps into my mind
At sunrise and the brink of midnight,
Is that
I
Was someone’s *****
Listen to the pleas of
Children,
their ribbons shriveling up.
Spouses,
their vows rupturing.
Siblings,
their hearts torn apart.
Parents,
Bawling for their sanities,
Waiting to rejoice
With their miraculous bundles of joy—
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 11:13 AM UTC
Put on a clean shirt
before you die, some Russian said.
Nothing with drool, please,
no egg spots, no blood,
no sweat, no *****
You want me clean, God,
so I'll try to comply.
The hat I was married in,
will it do?
White, broad, fake flowers in a tiny array.
It's old-fashioned, as stylish as a bedbug,
but is suits to die in something nostalgic.
And I'll take
my painting shirt
washed over and over of course
spotted with every yellow kitchen I've painted.
God, you don't mind if I bring all my kitchens?
They hold the family laughter and the soup.
For a bra
(need we mention it?),
the padded black one that my lover demeaned
when I took it off.
He said, "Where'd it all go?"
And I'll take
the maternity skirt of my ninth month,
a window for the love-belly
that let each baby pop out like and apple,
the water breaking in the restaurant,
making a noisy house I'd like to die in.
For underpants I'll pick white cotton,
the briefs of my childhood,
for it was my mother's dictum
that nice girls wore only white cotton.
If my mother had lived to see it
she would have put a WANTED sign up in the post office
for the black, the red, the blue I've worn.
Still, it would be perfectly fine with me
to die like a nice girl
smelling of Clorox and Duz.
Being sixteen-in-the-pants
I would die full of questions.
2.9k
*The little flower and her greed
She raises her head before the sun
Sun’s might she pays no heed!
The little flower and her greed
She stands up bold against the wind
From her home in the ****
She has her home in the ****
But her color bright catches sight
Longing eyes she does feed!
She has her home in the ****
She sets minds in color afire
It’s her purpose it’s her need!
She does it for her need
Sending all her hearty greet
Never minding caste or creed!
She minds not caste or creed
Her glory is not demeaned
Though her birth is in the ****
She is born a weed’s flower
Endless is her might
She holds sun in her power!*
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 5:58 AM UTC
Sitting on a park bench
Could not help but notice
A paper bag pressed against
A garbage can like a beaten
Victim whose brown exterior judged
And sentenced harshly for its
Desire to survive in a world that
Deemed it unworthy for society
Instead its abused
Wrinkled
Crumpled
Torn existence demeaned
For the purpose of pleasure
And then quickly discarded
Refusing to care about all
The good it carried inside
Dec 11, 2011
Dec 11, 2011 at 12:32 PM UTC
Seriously??
You're seriously bringing that up now??
After everything you've put us through,
You're going to hold this over my head
Right now??
I can't believe this.
I knew you were childish
But this is reaching new lows
Even for you.
I mean,
Who brings up a mistake I made
Ten years ago when I was legitimately a kid.
I mean,
Who doesn't forgive a child
For not knowing any better
And messing up huge that one time.
But you never were one who fought fair.
You used every ***** trick not in the book
And then some.
You
Lied,
Manipulated,
Schemed,
Guilted,
Violated,
Demanded,
Demeaned,
Degraded,
Beat,
Beat,
Beat,
Me into the ground
Until I believed that
I was shorter than Thumbelina,
And responsible for all the chaos in your life.
Blinded by childish hero worship,
I trusted you when you told me
I was the reason things weren't working out.
But the child is not responsible
For the failed marriage of her parents.
The child is not responsible
For her parents' lack of communication.
The child is not responsible.
But you're still living like I am.
So I'm not gonna take this anymore.
I'm not gonna sit here, stand here, stay here,
And listen to your convoluted messed up reality.
I've got my own life to live.
My own memories to make.
My own mistakes to learn from.
My own family to find and have and raise.
And I sure as hell don't need
Someone like you coming back in
And telling me I'm less than I really am,
Cause the truth is, Mom,
I'm a lot more than you'll ever be.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
In my mind, you're the shadow in the background
Always lurking around seeing what it is that makes me tick
Just waiting for the right moment to set me off
Burning a hole through my skull like hot sand on bare feet
Setting up shop and selling my secrets
For your own personal amusement, despite our status
Psychedelic, without a trip
This reality feels less than real, flawed; overrated
But I still feel, and you forget that
I settle for less than my best because of you
Be happy, just know now I won't be around
All these years stepped all over, demeaned
I still ask, don't you want what I want?
Yes, I still have a heart, what's left of it
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
Time will demean you
Time will felicitate you
There was once
A little boy
who dreamt of being a star
that shone brighter than the moon
He loved his days when he could play
hide and seek, all evening long
Later lying over green grasses
letting his life to recollect
The tree under which he use to lie
with branches, where he used to swing
is no more.
His dreams of star brighter than moon-
moon was never brighter than star.
There was a boy once
who was stupid with all his freedom
with desires, where his dreams used to swing
The tree is no more
The boy is no more
Time tells the stories
inside the head
of mysteries, of universal alchemies
and of adventure misunderstood, not understood
and understood years later, when it first demeaned you
Dreams work in strange way
Desires **** in worst days
and time is still waiting for the felicitation
to tell the little boy
there are no stars brighter than moon
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
Adolf ****** was a German I'm sure you all well know:
He was born in Austria but lived in Germany a long time ago.
He was a man who was fuelled by patriotic ambition,
(he had other things on his mind apart from big **** and coition).
The German people were the victims of economic recession,
Caused by the French government's revanchist aggression,
And der schoene Adolf promised he would sort out the place,
And would restore them to their rightful position as ze Master Race.
With stirring speeches and a fantastic propaganda machine,
His political opponents and ze Jews he loudly demeaned,
And thus, plus a teensy-weensy bit of naughty oppression,
He was able to fulfil his great and glorious mission.
Although some Germans re ****** were a little bit unhappy,
Most of them thought he was a really top rate chappie;
The rest of the world remained relatively silent on the matter too,
Not realising just what old Adolf really intended to do.
In the USA they gave him place of honour on the front page of 'Time'
Which surely sent out to Adolf quite a hopeful sign;
And secretly millions cheered him on when they got the news
Of what he and his cronies were doing to those Jews.
When a man like ****** you choose to blithely ignore
Then you should work out that what comes next is war;
Which is what happened with a Bang! Crash! Boom! and Thump!
But Hitler's not nearly half as ugly as that awful Donald Trump.
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 12:03 PM UTC
Imagine a world
no different than our own
except that
everything was sexualized.
Where women were criticized,
for how they dress
Where women were blamed
for the crimes of men.
Where men were pressured
to be what they’re not,
Where men were demeaned
for respecting women.
Imagine a world
no different than our own
except that
everything was divided.
Where whites fought with blacks,
over basic rights,
Where democrats fought with republicans
for not seeing eye-to-eye,
Where women fought with men,
for equality they deserve,
Where countries fought with countries,
for greed, power, and prestige.
Imagine a world
no different than our own
except that
life was fleeting.
Where people only lived
for limited years,
Where time was squandered
on things that don’t matter.
Where people were consumed
by greed, power, and prestige,
Where life was controlled
by the quest for more.
Imagine a world
no different than our own.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
Sleeping with the Muse,
my nights have grown short
Sleeping with the Muse,
my spirit comports
Sleeping with the Muse
words dance with delight
Sleeping with the Muse
confronting my fright
Sleeping with the Muse
her will tests again
Sleeping with the Muse
not lover nor friend
Sleeping with the Muse
my dreams sacrifice
Sleeping with the Muse
all rest put on ice
Sleeping with the Muse
the whispers come clean
Sleeping with the Muse
excuses demeaned
Sleeping with the Muse,
my spool is respun
Sleeping with the Muse
divorced from the sun
Sleeping with the Muse
in darkness I learn
Sleeping with the Muse
the day will confirm
Sleeping with the Muse
till dawn’s freeing light
Sleeping with the Muse
—new words to take flight
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 11:52 AM UTC
are these the biggest contradictories?
preaching to be free
while predicting to feel demeaned
foreseen scenes
where no other option
than depletion
will falsely make you feel complete
stay alive
for a feeling not yet felt
in the meantime prohibiting reality
with an induced sense of youth
continuing
until the word consequence
becomes solely a sequence of letters
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 7:44 PM UTC
i was two leonard cohen albums and three cigarettes in.
the night was falling in ribbons around me
and my empty passenger seat.
the windows were gracious,
hosting an onslaught of wind
that carved at the cool, contained
nature of my hair.
i was lost.
there was no meaning in the pavement
my tires demeaned at high speeds,
though i wanted there to be.
i took up two lanes,
as i fumbled the lighter.
i attempted to light the fourth,
only to find the fluid was far gone.
i felt just as worthwhile as the unlit
cigarette,
and cohen's phony sentiment.
driving pointlessly into the darkness.
looking for meaning that would
cling to me.
i wanted individual soul.
a holy moment where you know your life stands for beauty.
a holy moment where you aren't thinking about
***
cigarettes,
ex-girlfriends,
and parental expectations.
i put on swordfishtrombones,
let mr.waits howl as my cancerous thoughts
ate away at my remaining humanity.
just night.
just a lonely interstate
with an empty passenger seat.
May 9, 2010
May 9, 2010 at 7:10 PM UTC
microphone snakes, gas mask, covered eyes,
barbwire nation, sounds of pavement inside,
graffiti alleyways, women laying down in fields of poppies
Turn the camera on me. Look what you see
maggots crawling around like a ******* disease
turn your head now, roll your ******* eyes
like an apple core eaten up used and tossed aside
forbidden fruit of ones mind
defiled demeaned and rotten inside
searching, N searching, for something to find
discover mind in the gutter, under covers it hides
forbidden fruit and forgotten lies
so much time to expand our minds
Turn the camera on me. and Look what you see
maggots crawling around just like a ******* disease
turn your head now, roll your ******* eyes
like an apple core eaten up and tossed aside
lost memories and forgotten dreams
succumbing to fit of weakness
no one knows what it means
but we say the truth is what were speaking
Turn the camera on me. Look what you see
maggots crawling around like a ******* disease
turn your head now, roll your ******* eyes
like an apple core eaten up and tossed aside
Tell me what you see!!. Turn your hate on the
Little pig get down On your filthy knees
turn your head now, close your weary eyes
The Caterpillar becomes the butterfly
used abuse refussing to die
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 2:17 AM UTC
with each passing day
my space in this place
seems farther away
it’s become all too common
both real and surreal
just trying to press on
why did you place me in here
imprisoning me in this
dilapidated shell
with erroneous genes
and destruction
cell by cell
what is your purpose
why won’t you share the meaning
instead leaving me demeaned
crippled
broken
and bleeding
sometimes horizons don’t make a sound
sometimes horizons are not around
sometimes horizons can not be found
they’re so far away
sometimes horizons are not as one
despite the appearance of location
open your eyes
take your hands away
see the new day waiting
i am waiting too
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
I've crossed a continent
All with good intent
To see my best friend
Turn Seventy
It took all of my means
Every dollar & dreams
All my planning schemes
To be there from Tennessee
While he's been a lifelong friend
He never seemed to end
with statements to descend
"don't matter to me"
After three days I quit caring
No more was I sharing
To the mentor only sparing
His own concern was HE
Lost, was the man I once knew
I, a disappointment that grew
From his point of view
Fat, Old, Slow Me
Sad to be let down
couldn't offer a next round
Slammed to the ground
I left after seeing the Sea
Only wish him the best
After being put to the test
I'll not be back for the rest
Can't stand to be demeaned by Thee
Sep 3, 2011
Sep 3, 2011 at 11:55 AM UTC
)
(
)
(
\/
/\
/ \
~~~~~~
~~~~~~
Fire in the hills
The soul comes awake
The lynched ***** lives !
•
AMERICA
Land of the demeaned
And home of the depraved
•
HAVE YOU READ THE CONSTITUTION
RECENTLY ?
The tea ****** asked the illiterate high school valedictorian
He muttered something in Chinese and was gone
••
The child was crying
The church had fallen down
On his head
•
Ready !
Little one I love you
The 1000 names of god
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
I am not exotic
But I am ******
I’m not this flesh
Or these bones
This body is
My home,
My temple,
For I am
******
Mother and
Sacred Crone
I am not exotic
But I am ******
I am the fire
Of Holy Desire
I am kundalini Shakti
Sacred Power
Life Force Energy
What you cannot
See in thee
You project
Onto me
I am not your
Mother Wound
Projection nor
The cause of
Your demonised
********
Open your eyes
To the lies
You cannot
Cage me
By category
Tick me off your list
Make me invisible
Divisible by
What is not true
For I am
Another you.
Reclaim your Desire
This Holy Fire
This creative force
You're not seeing
Is what birthed you
Into being
Embrace your Passion
Let your tongue
Kiss the truth
With compassion
Proclaim your name
Without shame
You are not toxic
You are ******
Let your desire
Flower
Own your
Power!
We need to change
The conversation
Between this nation
Of women and men
Generations of trauma
Perpetuated
In the name
Of some sod
They call their god
Defy the lie
Don’t comply
With temptation
They control
Our needs
To spark their
Insatiable greed.
Don’t cage
Your longing
To feed your
Belonging
This individualistic
creed
Consuming
Subsuming
To fill the void
Left by
the ban
On Pan
Earthy
deemed *****
Horn scorned
Turned into ****
Scapegoated
Emasculated
Devil
Demoted
Goddess
Demeaned
Rise up
Open your heart
Resist the force
Tearing communities apart
Face your fear
Shed those tears
Cause a commotion
Release that emotion
Lets change
the agenda
That segregates
Our genitals
From gender
Refrain
Unchain
Shiv Shakti
Eros Aphrodite
Mars and Venus
Liberate your *****
Own your passion
Penetrate compassion
Don’t measure
Your Pleasure
By some
prescriptive
Fashion
Embrace your
Inner lover
Honour our
Earth Mother
Stop blaming
Shaming the other
Let’s form a union
Let love be the sacrament
The Holy Communion
For we are ******
We are the fire
Of Holy Desire
Let Compassion flower
Let the power of love
Banish the love of power
Nov 23, 2024
Nov 23, 2024 at 6:10 AM UTC
1.
I have been told
That I am too pretty to smoke.
I did not understand what he meant by this
Because I knew plenty of beautiful girls who smoked
And their boyfriends did not comment
On their vices, instead, only on their virtues.
Then I understood
That he was remarking on my insides-
My lungs and my horribly scarred soul.
2.
I didn't know anything about Batman.
I asked him about Bruce Wayne once
And was called a ******* idiot.
Now Batman scares me
And makes my stomach twinge
Because I feel guilty
For not knowing who he was,
I am a ******* idiot.
3.
Your mother loved Reagan
And I told her that he was
A dishonest, morally twisted pig
Who sat back
While thousands of Americans
Succumbed to a disease
Who's name was whispered
On the winds of her generation.
I don't think your mother likes me much anymore.
I think she may get in our way later on.
I wish she and I
Didn't care so much about Ronald Reagan.
4.
You told me about Joy Division
And I thought it was beautiful
That Ian Curtis hung himself in his kitchen
for his wife to find
And later had the words
"Love will tear us apart"
Inscribed on his headstone.
You called me cryptic
And then assaulted me in the night.
You made me want to die
So I could write "love will tear us apart"
On my own headstone.
5.
He asked for **** photos
And I told him no.
Upon which I was called a ****
And demeaned during intimacy
From then on.
He taught me that virgins could be *****
And now I am the ******
Time has made into the ****
It has ****** time and again.
6.
He called Wes Anderson films "hipster garbage"
And told me instead to watch things
Like Reservoir Dogs and South Park.
A year later, I only know not to tip
And how to be an *******
7.
You told me to grow my hair out
Because a girl with short hair
Was a lesbian and you told me
You didn't want others to think
That you were going with a lesbian.
But in the end you still pulled it
With regular fierceness
And I was too much of a coward
To tell you to eat ****
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC
When this at last falls to ash
Well rise out like a pheonix
The eagle shall be beatin'
For these creatins have demeaned it
Brains are washed away
In the main streams current
And the path of least resistance
Gets a washed and watered version
The truth's a priceless prize
That if you want you have to earn
And pieces pure of **********
Are crystal clear once finally learned
God has set this task before me
To melt this house of wax
And though I have been found wanting
He makes up for what I lack
Sep 7, 2010
Sep 7, 2010 at 7:43 PM UTC
They cooked stories about Abraham,
Peddled the lies about plagiarism,
God Bráhmàņ became a deity,
Bráhmàņ people I mean,
Demeaned the ****** status,
Idol worshipping is optionality,
They typecasted Đhàrmà to an -ism,
May 5, 2021
May 5, 2021 at 12:35 AM UTC
**That night she was stopped
that quiet whisper of love
that gentle touch
it was questioned
the lights shone brightly on them
the windows rolled down
they questioned her
they questioned her love, her faith
what did her name have to do with it?
or her age?
she loved him, she truly did
they asked her how much money she took
money against a measure of time with him?
what did that woman mean?
"she's in a uniform, don't question her" he said
but she protested,
because she loved him, she truly did.
A societal mess- that's what she became.
A name in the newspapers
a shame to her household
a grave mistake.
he had to leave, her father said
you mustn't be fooled, her mother said
her crying eyes bid him farewell
he vowed that he'd love her
he vowed he'd be there one day
"it's too convoluted now"
Fate decided- so be it
Then it changed.
She walked down that narrow alley like every day
she was afraid to use the front door
everyone stared
they said horrible things
why subject herself to it everyday?
it's painless for her to take the back alley
no one notices, she's just a shadow
They followed this gentle shadow
they followed her footsteps
the tinkling of these earrings he had given her
they cautiously waited till that moment
till that moment that they could destroy her
bit by bit.
no one came in response to those blood curling shrieks
no one shone a light on them
no woman in a uniform asked her how much she would charge them
no man called her dishonorable
there was no one at all
just her empty eyes and susurrus protests
she laid barren, exposed in that back alley
it was dark, no lights
no concern, no questions
no allegations, no threats
no mistakes, no convolutions
it was simple really as she lay there
at least she died in honor, right?
At least no one would accuse her now?
Wrong,
that would continue, how naive she was even at her end
as she went from a shadow to a memory
without love
without life**
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 9:42 AM UTC
Carefully laid thoughts had strayed,
And logic, ideals, tossed away
Ready and willing, I told you, that day
But you say you don't remember.
The world, it's values demeaned by sins
Stubborn, I would not follow them
The love for you, resurrected them,
But you say you don't remember.
One child was enough, I ne'er wanted more
Until our time together bore
The thought, with you, a family, "soon"
But you say you don't remember.
You've always had trouble with your memory,
But the things dear to you, always seemed less troubling.
And I can't help but think, If to you, it meant anything.
As for me?
I'll always remember.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 9:33 PM UTC
He ran
Screaming
Munch-like
only three-dimensional
demeaned
and
demented
and
fearful
of such a love
Like a painting
He would hang
when
she
caught him
forever
on her wall
Apr 10, 2011
Apr 10, 2011 at 10:00 AM UTC
I went home for Easter Sunday
During my senior year of college.
I was at that age
Where only my mother
Could call me a boy.
At one point in the weekend
When I was alone with my father
He tried to apologize
For all the things he had not done
When I was still a boy.
There are many things
My father never did.
He never called me stupid
He never yelled at me or demeaned me
He never clipped my wings
And he never clubbed my head.
Ther are other things
My father never did.
He never left home
He never came home drunk
He never beat my sister or brother
or my mother
He never failed us.
There is one last thing
My father never did.
He never has told me he misses me
Nor have I said it to him
But I could never doubt that he does
Because I do
And we are two of a similar kind.
Dec 4, 2010
Dec 4, 2010 at 9:01 AM UTC