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judy smith Sep 2016
When I was chief creative officer for Liz Claiborne Inc., I spent a good amount of time on the road hosting fashion shows highlighting our brands. Our team made a point of retaining models of various sizes, shapes and ages, because one of the missions of the shows was to educate audiences about how they could look their best. At a Q&A; after one event in Nashville in 2010, a woman stood up, took off her jacket and said, with touching candour: “Tim, look at me. I’m a box on top, a big, square box. How can I dress this shape and not look like a fullback?” It was a question I’d heard over and over during the tour: Women who were larger than a size 12 always wanted to know, How can I look good, and why do designers ignore me?

At New York Fashion Week, which began Thursday, the majority of American women are unlikely to receive much attention, either. Designers keep their collections tightly under wraps before sending them down the runway, but if past years are any indication of what’s to come, plus-size looks will be in short supply. Sure, at New York Fashion Week in 2015, Marc Jacobs and Sophie Theallet each featured a plus-size model and Ashley Graham debuted her plus-size lingerie line. But these moves were very much the exception, not the rule.

I love the American fashion industry, but it has a lot of problems and one of them is the baffling way it has turned its back on plus-size women. It’s a puzzling conundrum. The average American woman now wears between a size 16 and a size 18, according to new research from Washington State University. There are 100 million plus-size women in America, and, for the past three years, they have increased their spending on clothes faster than their straight-size counterparts. There is money to be made here ($20.4 billion (U.S.), up 17 per cent from 2013). But many designers — dripping with disdain, lacking imagination or simply too cowardly to take a risk — still refuse to make clothes for them.

In addition to the fact that most designers max out at size 12, the selection of plus-size items on offer at many retailers is paltry compared with what’s available for a size 2 woman. According to a Bloomberg analysis, only 8.5 per cent of dresses on Nordstrom.com in May were plus-size. At J.C. Penney’s website, it was 16 per cent; Nike.com had a mere five items — total.

I’ve spoken to many designers and merchandisers about this. The overwhelming response is, “I’m not interested in her.” Why? “I don’t want her wearing my clothes.” Why? “She won’t look the way that I want her to look.” They say the plus-size woman is complicated, different and difficult, that no two size 16s are alike. Some haven’t bothered to hide their contempt. “No one wants to see curvy women” on the runway, Karl Lagerfeld, head designer of Chanel, said in 2009. Plenty of mass retailers are no more enlightened: under the tenure of chief executive Mike Jeffries, Abercrombie & Fitch sold nothing larger than a size 10, with Jeffries explaining that “we go after the attractive, all-American kid.”

This a design failure and not a customer issue. There is no reason larger women can’t look just as fabulous as all other women. The key is the harmonious balance of silhouette, proportion and fit, regardless of size or shape. Designs need to be reconceived, not just sized up; it’s a matter of adjusting proportions. The textile changes, every seam changes. Done right, our clothing can create an optical illusion that helps us look taller and slimmer. Done wrong, and we look worse than if we were naked.

Have you shopped retail for size 14-plus clothing? Based on my experience shopping with plus-size women, it’s a horribly insulting and demoralizing experience. Half the items make the body look larger, with features like ruching, box pleats and shoulder pads. Pastels and large-scale prints and crazy pattern-mixing abound, all guaranteed to make you look infantile or like a float in a parade. Adding to this travesty is a major department-store chain that makes you walk under a marquee that reads “WOMAN.” What does that even imply? That a “woman” is anyone larger than a 12 and everyone else is a girl? It’s mind-boggling.

Project Runway, the design competition show on which I’m a mentor, has not been a leader on this issue. Every season we have the “real women” challenge (a title I hate), in which the designers create looks for non-models. The designers audibly groan, though I’m not sure why; in the real world, they won’t be dressing a seven-foot-tall glamazon.

This season, something different happened: Ashley Nell Tipton won the contest with the show’s first plus-size collection. But even this achievement managed to come off as condescending. I’ve never seen such hideous clothes in my life: bare midriffs; skirts over crinoline, which give the clothes, and the wearer, more volume; see-through skirts that reveal *******; pastels, which tend to make the wearer look juvenile; and large-scale floral embellishments that shout “prom.” Her victory reeked of tokenism. One judge told me that she was “voting for the symbol” and that these were clothes for a “certain population.” I said they should be clothes all women want to wear. I wouldn’t dream of letting any woman, whether she’s a size 6 or a 16, wear them. Simply making a nod toward inclusiveness is not enough.

This problem is difficult to change. The industry, from the runway to magazines to advertising, likes subscribing to the mythology it has created of glamour and thinness. Look at Vogue’s “Shape Issue,” which is ostensibly a celebration of different body types but does no more than nod to anyone above a size 12. For decades, designers have trotted models with bodies completely unattainable for most women down the runway. First it was women so thin that they surely had eating disorders. After an outcry, the industry responded by putting young teens on the runway, girls who had yet to exit puberty. More outrage.

But change is not impossible. There are aesthetically worthy retail successes in this market. When helping women who are size 14 and up, my go-to retailer is Lane Bryant. While the items aren’t fashion with a capital F, they are stylish (but please avoid the cropped pants — always a no-no for any woman). And designer Christian Siriano scored a design and public relations victory after producing a look for Leslie Jones to wear to the “Ghostbusters” red-carpet premiere. Jones, who is not a diminutive woman, had tweeted in despair that she couldn’t find anyone to dress her; Siriano stepped in with a lovely full-length red gown.

Several retailers that have stepped up their plus-size offerings have been rewarded. In one year, ModCloth doubled its plus-size lineup. To mark the anniversary, the company paid for a survey of 1,500 American women ages 18 to 44 and released its findings: Seventy-four per cent of plus-size women described shopping in stores as “frustrating”; 65 per cent said they were “excluded.” (Interestingly, 65 per cent of women of all sizes agreed that plus-size women were ignored by the fashion industry.) But the plus-size women surveyed also indicated that they wanted to shop more. More than 80 per cent said they’d spend more on clothing if they had more choices in their size and nearly 90 per cent said they would buy more if they had trendier options. According to the company, its plus-size shoppers place 20 per cent more orders than its straight-size customers.

Online start-up Eloquii, initially conceived and then killed by The Limited, was reborn in 2014. The trendy plus-size retailer, whose top seller is an over-the-knee boot with four-inch heels and extended calf sizes, grew its sales volume by more than 165 per cent in 2015.

Despite the huge financial potential of this market, many designers don’t want to address it. It’s not in their vocabulary. Today’s designers operate within paradigms that were established decades ago, including anachronistic sizing. (Consider the fashion show: It hasn’t changed in more than a century.) But this is now the shape of women in this nation, and designers need to wrap their minds around it. I profoundly believe that women of every size can look good. But they must be given choices. Separates — tops, bottoms — rather than single items like dresses or jumpsuits always work best for the purpose of fit. Larger women look great in clothes skimming the body, rather than hugging or cascading. There’s an art to doing this. Designers, make it work.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/black-formal-dresses
You hide in plain sight as does day when engulfed by night
For darkness is simply…. The absence of light
You claim to have special enlightenment
And that your knowledge is for the better good of the people
Pledge your allegiance and your success will be imminent
Break your pledge and your death will be discrete
So why would you become part of something so “elite”?
With only one thing in mind; to see the human race in defeat.
An interminable amount of subliminal messages
Hinting at events that are destructive, demoralizing, and deceptive.
9/11… was it really an act of terrorism?
Or was it just an evil plot… something you guys expected?
Al-quaeda and the Taliban… roaming around in the lands of Iran
But on the land I walk some say it’s a misperception
Just a façade in our brain so the government secrets are protected.
Michael Jackson… and the Kennedy assassination
Were they both untimely events in American history?
Ghandi, The King,  Malcolm X,  Princess Diana, Shakur,
Paul, Marley, the Kennedys’, Lennon, Fredinand, Lincoln!!
All of  whom were either at your feet or tried to make your secret secrete
These deaths… from assassination to suicide… were all… “unfortunate” to the human eye?
Or were they “fortunate” for the Eye of the Beholder?
But why go to such great extent to have these powerful and influential people wiped from the human race?
To keep a secret that has been soooo well kept for hundreds of years?
A secret society that is not so discrete… anymore
Hidden in plain sight and away from the human eye…..
Trying to keep a disguise that will lead to our eventual demise
You aren’t doing the world any favors
By keeping an explicitly intricate order in store
You’re favoring your own world under one order
By intricately deceiving the minds of innocent citizens
So, you hide in plain sight, the light of the earth
A light you hope one day becomes permanently dark
Cause once again, darkness is only the absence of light.
With no light, we will be forced at the feet of your might
Despite a fight, with no light and your might, we’re all just mites stuck on your flight of new world order.
Well let me just end on this… **** THE ILLUMINATI!
This is my first slam poem which I performed a couple of weeks ago on an odd topic of the Illuminati.
jeffrey robin Aug 2013
Broke

( broken!)

--

Yeah?

So what?

--
--

Can you possibly just try
To
Do nothing else than
Live

With
GENEROSITY OF SPIRIT
&
ETERNAL
COMPLETE
ABSOLUTELY  UNCOMPROMISING LOVE?

Live with dignity

Die in eachother's
Pure hearts

--
Come on!

Enough **** suffering
&
**** suffering Poetry!!

****'

It's getting disgusting!

Demoralizing!

---
GENEROSITY OF SPIRIT!

ALL TOGETHER NOW
the world is adorned with a million windows
the bleakest night has a thousand eyes
daylight shines into the globes darkest corners
truth will ultimately expose all lies

NASA’s satellites circle
Tropic of Cancer latitudes
cameras pinpoint the disease
metastasizing in the body of Homs

from stratospheric limits
sensitive lenses read the names
magic markers have scrawled
onto white sheets covering the dead

YouTube gets Oscar consideration
for grisly cinematography
a real-time visceral docudrama
of panting fascists gleefully tramping

through the desecrated streets
coolly administering a coup de gras
to a city on its knees, pleading release
from an **** of incessant bloodletting

twitter records desperate tweets
the batting wings of endangered flocks
furiously thumbing into the blogosphere
calls for UN intervention that falls on blind eyes

BBC reportage,
the global gold standard
for journalistic excellence
scoops the stories
of London based FSA partisans
awaiting repatriation to scatter
Bashar’s Kodachrome killers

Has the All Seeing Eye
who has graced us with sight
laughingly curse us with vision?

Does the
One Caring Eye of the Universe
bless us with perception
to haunt us with images?

Has
The One Thats Sees Everything
blinked closed the eye of compassion?

Has the horror of Homs
become too much even for
The Universal Eye of Love?

the opened eyes
of a dead child
reflects our
cold winter
of indifference
demoralizing
dehumanizing
a watching world

Music Selection
Grateful Dead Eyes of the World

Oakland
3/2/12
jbm
Lee Aug 2013
Listen people, as this pertains to you, in general. The ***** that I give are decaying, exponentially, in relation to you. (you as a mass, an amoeba, a faceless many or few, however you wish to view the individual, inner, outer, oneself, selfless or self-centered, arrogance and humility all set aside)Forward from this point it has been planned, by my conscious and I, through negotiation (talking to myself is demoralizing, ruthless ******* I am at all ventures) an equation for the ***** I'll be rationed (or deprived of) has been set forth by it (or him, the tones are erratic and stances inconsistent, better I find to leave it faceless, a mass inconceivable in ways and form) to follow said equation.
F= i(1-e)^L
The variables within being explained to me as meaning such:
F is for *****, obviously-the end result-what we in essence: are after. Having to wade through the entire convoluted mess my conscious has made of it.
i is innocence, the starting point or amount- the source from which all my ***** flow.
e if experience, the rate of decay through time-experience being what seems to cause it-hardening innocence, slowly but surely, eliminating ***** all together.
L is life, the time: The span in which the degradation of ***** can and will occur, upon its end, the equation is erased, and given to start anew somewhere else, with someone else.
In layman’s terms the entire equation is doomed to begin with. Innocence, mine or anyone else’s is an impossible thing to quantify: measure. It’s sun tea from grandmothers’ mason jars on summers evenings, nostalgia and ignorance, something individual and immeasurable.
Leaving us to ask it (my conscious) what the hell it was even thinking. It, of course, doesn’t think in logical terms, only hides under the pale ruse of them.
My experience is a little easier to quantify. Seeing death, hearing the crack of an animal’s entire body under a tire, the last screech of death, Ruined lives or families, the illogical kindness of strangers, the warmth of another human’s body. All these things play crucial roles, leaning towards one way or another, another being this case, another being negative.
My time (L) is limited, leaving us to ask what relativity it has on the entire equation. The sad and short domain of a cliff dive graph. The two dots that predict importance, and my relativity the graph, the system this equation functions within, and its rules as a whole.
It says to work it through, to find myself, to change some spiral I can’t track or imagine.
It doesn't think in logical term, it left me confused without the tools to claw my way out of existence, and this sterile version of it.
It doesn't know (or care) what’s going on, it only hides behind the pale ruse,
of giving a ****.
Tuffy Mutombo Apr 2022
If I became your ex
What would you tell the world
Would you tell them a side of me that loved you
Would you tell them about the late night texts
Would you tell them about the 12 hour conversations that ended when the sun came up
Would you tell them about how I would pick you up, go on random trips
Hold you tight when fear was near
Wipe your tears
Trace all your scars
Would you tell them about the dreams I lost while trying to make your dream a reality
Would you tell them about the hours I worked just to get you the finest things
Would you tell them about the insecurity wall you helped me build over the years
Would you tell them about how toxic I became  
While your heart fed me poisoned love
Or would you tell them about an expectation you set so high, that no one could attain
Better yet to build your confidence would you  tell them how a terrible person I am  
but leave out the part in which you helped me become who I am

Let me save you the time
and just leave you with this

If you chose to love a past you couldn’t get past you shouldn’t of committed to making a worse past, a past that promoted demoralizing a broken  heart, a past that left scars a surgeon could close
Crying out for closure in a room full of hunted memories!

So please don’t read a book you not willing finish,
me and you are the authors to my insecurity
Dan T Sep 2013
Fallacy of peril charade, conflicted demoralizing vagrant silenced through the abysmal destitution of a grated emotion, filled with blanketed pasty words, comforted through embellished demeanor of our imperfection.
Mercy B Dec 2013
I will not allow anyone' s judgments further even one more moment of self doubt
              They can't break me.
The demoralizing words cast my way mean nothing and the lack of faith,
              Stronger it will make me.

Finally I have realized that I do not have to live up to their set of standards, always trying to impress.
               I alone will break their mold.
No longer will I vie for others affection or seek to achieve someone else's perfection,
                I will let my own story unfold.

My mistakes are unique to just myself, I will embrace them, learn and keep moving on.
                Standing true on my own two feet.
I will have both successes and failures throughout the journey  before me.
                 Never again shall I give into defeat.
So much more true than the day I wrote this.
katewinslet Sep 2015
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mbt shoes outlet,mbt outlet sale,mbt women's shoes outlet
Shouts, pounds,
Squeaking trainers,
And once again I'm just one,
Of a team of failures.

My name is called,
I hear too late,
Whip round my head,
But take the full weight.

Glasses fly off,
I fall to the floor,
Dazed and out of breath,
And a demoralizing score.

The world becomes blurred,
And nothing is clear,
Except the laughter,
The accusatory jeers.

This is my reward,
For trying my best?
Well in that case enjoy your three man team,
Because I need a rest.
Joseph Sinclair Aug 2015
Morning came.
The sun, though wanly yet,
From out the clouds did creep,
And chilled but more the coldness in each heart.

Night had passed.
Their craft its course had set;
They roused themselves from sleep,
Despairingly aware this was the start.

*
And then within their ******* a wondrous joy:
“We are alive. Our pained heartbeat
Is Freedom’s precious blood;
Though fugitive, we plant our feet
On this uncertain road.
Reprieve, we pray, these victims of Hanoi.”

But what inexorable dream did drive
Them to this pass? Utopia . . .?
Can desperation so
Produce a mass myopia?
Or did they simply show
A crass and rude desire to stay alive?

Freedom they sought and yet from freedom fled;
Their sorrow spent, alike their gold,
(Why give up gold for strife?)
Bewilderment assailed the old,
The rest were for their life
Content, who measured wealth by rice and bread.

This is no refuge for the older men.
Here Mammon reigns. Who dares offend
Its promissory trap?
The tree retains a bitter blend
That yet within its sap
Contains the best of threescore years and ten.

No sanctuary this; no lotus land
With blossoms sweet. Another scent
The fragrant harbour bears.
Its airs defeat their loud lament
And gives voice to their fears:
Retreat or here remain to make a stand.

Accumulated wealth; decay of man;
The evidence is all around:
This is cold comfort farm.
No penitents do here abound;
No charity; no charm.
“Dispense with it” some said “and change our plan.”

But still they stayed, and still more of them came
In constant hope: some few sanguine,
Some cynical, some scared;
The misanthrope and the benign,
Each really ill-prepared
To cope, alas, when menaced tongues declaim:

“You are not wanted here! You have no right
Our aims to thwart. We have our own
Philosophy to fill
An empty heart. Leave us alone
To line our pockets still.
Depart! Desist! This scene offends our sight.”

And whither shall they go when doors are locked
to them and barred? Another land?
Another sea serene
Yet still as hard? Forever banned;
Regarded as obscene;
Ill-starred, kept out, each avenue but blocked.

The days lay heavy on them, and the weeks
Marked mournful time; and endless nights
Of sleepless hours compose
No rest sublime. But lawful rights
And liberties opposed
By crime whose legal putrefaction reeks.

Pity those huddled masses in their hive
Of human pain. What choice had they
Beyond their selfish dream
To hope again? Perhaps to pray,
Or, with a piteous scream,
Complain once more: “We merely want to live!”

Was it not ever so, since the first dawn?
Did not our Lord (perchance, too, theirs)
Enjoy the same disdain?
(The same reward?) For what compares
With crucifix and pain
Of sword and scourge, save that one is reborn.

*

Winter brought
Another wakening day;
The menace of that dream:
Demoralizing symbol of their fears.

In the Spring
The well-tide of their gay
And sacrificial stream:
The flower must die before the fruit appears.
The news of the hideous and horribly gruesome deaths of all those men, women and children in a refrigerated truck abandoned on an Austrian highway moved me to writing a poem about the inhumanity of our behaviour towards people whose only crime is that they want to live, and live a life of hope rather than one of despair. And then I suddenly realised that I had already written that poem, in 1979, when living in Hong Kong to which unwelcome haven streamed all those refugees from Vietnam, unglamorously known as The Boat People. The names and places may have been changed, but the substance remains just as it was written 36 years ago, and published in my book of verse: Uncultured Pearls:

I called it REFUGE:
Sushmita Jun 2020
An incident prompted people to fight for justice
Then there are some asking,
"There's been acts of injustice before, why were you silent then?"

Because it's better to act late than never.

It's just not right for them to say that you didn't stand up that time so you must not now.
It takes courage to stand for what's right especially against those who have power.

~ S.G
4th June, 2020
I totally support all the peaceful protesters fighting for justice. We need change in the minds of all so that there can never be discrimination based on race, ***, creed, caste and religion ever again.
Patrick McCombs Jan 2012
Utter rejection
Fear injection
I'm about to quit
Tired of this *******
Completely demoralizing
Seemingly finalizing
Soul crushing
Emotions rushing
Fears evolving
This is all involving
Self reliant
Feeling defiant
**** the machine
They don't play clean
Utter manipulation
Choking creation
Do what they say
They can pay
It's depressing
It's distressing
Stand up, shout, scream
Don't be afraid to dream
Its insanity
A tribute to vanity
Shallow thinking
Heavy drinking
Try to escape
The intellectual ****
Someone will listen
And there eyes will glisten
Kane Nov 2014
A double sided day.
One of joy,
one of pain.
The torrential ticking
of time passing.
The never-ending questions
of what to do,
what to say?
Never mind and ignore
that which makes you sad.
Instead remember and wish for
that which makes you glad.
One plan,
one goal,
battered and beaten
it still holds strong.
Forgoing loneliness
for internal company.
Ignoring those around
for sheer simplicity.
But what can you say?
“It’s better this way”?
As perpetual concern is raised
for a clearly addled brain.
Longing for that one redeeming moment
of and otherwise bleak day.
As the minutes begin to stretch
and hours fade away.
Can’t anybody see
how demoralizing
such a day can be,
or how much pain
a lonely face
has had to face today?
Thiyi Khine xo Jan 2014
All I can hear every single day
is to study hard, and get good grades.
But no one could see, how much I've tried,
and a wall blocks out all my screams for help

Every single test paper I take
is just a reminder of how dumb I can get.
Demoralizing me in every way possible,
I seek for the easiest way to end all my misery

Time continues to fly past
and day by day I'm falling further.
Left stranded in my own despair,
I resorted to what I know I would regret

Filling my lungs with disgusting black ash,
I wandered around alone and lost.
All the pain has now been numb,
as red liquid flows out from the cuts on my wrist
Daniel Bauer Nov 2011
How does one feel when they glimpse
the pure night sky?
Alone,
Enthralled,
Fascinated,
Questioning,

And yet,
Dismal.
For we see only half, of the whole truth.

What stars?
I have seen the stars,
This is not their irradiant glory,
This is a poor semblance,
A portrayal of our Ignorance.

We cannot see
The stars,
By our own hands we have blinded ourselves,
From the single-most
Awe-inspiring,
Demoralizing,
Ego-diminishing experience,
And it shows.

Constantly busying ourselves,
we fail to make time to gaze skyward and
dwell,
When you look at the sky, you are
Forced to question.

Those who do not look,
Do not question,
Those who do not question,
Accept,
And those who accept,
are blind.

Blind,
Deaf,
And dumb.

Led here,
Led there,
From pasture to pasture.

Fed ideas like they’re kibble,
And the dogs are hungry.

It’s a dangerous thing,
to gaze up,
There is always the chance
Of choking
On your own existence.
How will we awaken the masses
From their eternal slumber?
A difficult task when
their heads lull ,
from the self-induced hypnosis.

The light is what we need,
And they stars,
They give it.
But we drown it out,
and substitute it with
the eternal hum of the artificial glow.

Deprivation,

The population thrives on it.

Honestly,
I would be stunned,
Nay, terrified,
If every mind awoke to the reality,
of the vast insignificance.

You can hear the minds imploding.

You can feel the torrent
of individual thought.

Danger.

Terror threat level Severe,

Burning red.

I have seen the stars,
Filling every void in the infinite blackness,
Radiating their celestial secrets,
Tantalizingly close to revelation,
Yet lost in translation.

You find your true self,
When alone with the stars,
No one except,
Your thoughts.

Oh,
what a dangerous place to be,
Floating somewhere between consciousness,
and stellar knowledge.

Will you rise to the Astral Summons?
Seek respite
from the electron hum,
Find yourself under the endless
luminous canopy,
And question.
R Arora Dec 2015
When the world is all against you,
And there’s no place to hide,
When you feel you are all alone,
And nobody is there by your side,
Don’t let your heart sink,
Sit back;
Concentrate;
And think:
Is it the circumstances,
Or you?
Who is at fault?
Who should be accused of this thing,
Which will soon be a (terrible) past?
Never mind the circumstances.
Those are just jerks of life,
Only to make you realize,
The price of happiness and smile.
For not all days are same,
Not always full of fame.
Anything monotonous can be boring,
So let us be prepared,
For some fun change,
Some adventure, and swing.
But, this small dip,
In your happiness graph,
Can be demoralizing.

Don’t you be disheartened,
Just as good times have passed,
This will also pass,
This will soon be a memory,
Though bad,
Of a long gone past.
Think yourself:
Will this matter in the years to come?
Will you even remember it,
The cause or the result?
In better times, probably not.


Things are not that terrible,
As much as we make them,
We rethink about the cause,
And not something to cope with it,
A solution maybe,
To put all this to a pause.
Even if you feel helpless,
You are actually not.
Don’t blame anyone,
Or anything,
Focus at present,
And think positively.
Stand up,
Gain some strength,
Remember your beautiful past,
And get back to work,
Work again,
Strive again,
Towards your goal,
Endurance might cause some pain,
But success will make you forget all this.
When success arrives,
It comes with bundles:
Bundles of joys,
Of happiness and contentment.
Look: then, good times will be back,
And bad memories,
Will just be a wasteful stack.
What matters the most,
Is now.
Spend it wisely,
You figure it: how.
Just remember, the most common face can hide the most sinful acts of humanity. And generally no worse the rest of us. For any evil to be accepted, one must spend time demoralizing it in the public sphere. Let it become normal. Remember, ignorance is bliss and Lavey first Satanic sin is in regards to stupidity. For most, morals and ethics are for the others in suits and one’s in isolated libraries. For it at times, monotonous, boring, lowkey, faceless and holding no emotion. In a fog, you can buy a gift for a boy, jumping joy and wagging tail, to which lives in amazement, as smiles from friends, surprised to see crime in the streets as no one places value on education. Do not judge the one who preaches evil, but judge on the size of the mob and every individual there. Anyone in modern age can be anything, including a higher power and veiled pagan attributes. Evil is cannot be cured with evil, as it eats on the same table as you. As a Satanist, I am my own hero and greatest enemy. If I contribute to reality, that is my only connection to a larger society. For both goodness and evil is relative. People work, people live, people love and people cry. Nothing in this world people hold more dearer to their hearts than the things they had worked for. As for that, it is where evil will value. To be completely successful in this life, requires a lot of ego and more ignorance, when it’s too late, your soul had been lost.
https://www.amazon.com.au/Inherent-Sin-Darcy-Prince-ebook/dp/B07FR5FW42/ref=sr13?ie=UTF8&qid=1532992472&sr=8-3&keywords=darcy+prince
Faith Fong Feb 2015
He walks amongst you
Smiles at you
Yet trusts no one,
Not even himself;
How can he?

As a child, you hide under the covers
Safe.
But he tosses and turns to the rhythm of gunfire.
Dreaded dreams of fallen comrades,
Within his mind, he can never be
Safe.

Waking hours are no comfort
Wandering
Plagued by demoralizing daylight exposing the death,
Witnessed in his wake
He numbs his emotions instead of heartache
Wandering.

I walk among you
I try to smile
Yet I’m drowning, reliving that nightmare
I don’t even trust myself
How could I?
Erm... School Project
Matthew Jan 2015
Magical, yet deafening
Inside the crawl, the strive was real
No
It must not
One can see but not be seen
Hear but not be heard
Are you blind?
Are you hearing me?
What truth, what dreams may come?
But not let us forget
The tale in the wild
The tale of truth behind that of wisdom and meaning
There is no self demoralizing way to establish security from scrutiny
Run....
run....
run
No!
Hide......
.......but don't
Always found and never hidden
Welcome
You have arrived
This is a constant battle I fight with schizophrenia
I love my e-cigarette,
my smoking stick..

Reminding me of
an Aboriginal elder,
passing their pipe
of peace around the circle,
only to be passed
to that White Devil
full of guild..

Did the White Devil
know which way
the story was going to go?
Too much guile
would have had to been sensed.

Perhaps there was no game plan,
only the rhythm of Life..
like a bucking horses'
up's and down's..
and jerking from
side to side.

The end result being
a stallion's broken spirit..

From the whip's full of pinch,
the lashes of the crop..
And the spurs full of vengeful  thrusts,
in no way, in any way of any winning,
Only a demoralizing, and a shaming.

The Evil White Devil,
his Evil didn't stop after
he hunted down the Warrior.

The Warriors Scalp taking,
perhaps an angry, brutality exposing
of a weakness in their spirit
when standing beside the Great Spirit's fullness'

No, no, It all has to be "owned up to".
Then perhaps a healing will take place,
A healing to where blame is resolved
by confession and understanding,
not by putting a monetary value on it,
but by a Love for by a Love's knowing.


The dreams I have when I smoke my pipe.
Ejiogu Stanley Oct 2016
how
If life taught me anything, it's that dreams come with sacrifices.
I had to let go of some bad habits and a couple vices
Cos what's worse than bullets that leave your body lifeless?
Staying alive with ambitions that don't materialize. Its
Pretty funny how some folks fail to realize this
And those who do find the process Pretty demoralizing
It's pretty easy to look pretty in every picture
Changing poses and positions like it's kama sutra
I mean, your life isn't fake, you really own it don't ya?
But in the place of your dreams, you got some guilty pleasure
You swear one day, you'll change and grow
But first let's cop that new iphone;
"Versace Versace, **** I'm glowing"
"No plan B, this is all I know"
Sayak Basu Jul 2013
There will be a time
when the entire realm of freedom
will evaporate into the night.
Fire will rage through your land of mirth,
Wisdom will shake hands
with the ruins of
your last, very personal encounter
in bed...


An entire generation is swaying...
Swaying unto the horizon of
knowledge.
A deep despair
of a dissatisfied, demoralizing death.
Death will speak to you
even in the processions you take part...
Even when there is a ray
of sunlight creeping through
the cracks of time...
It will smile to you like
a warm, friendly hand.


I do not speak of love
It is out of the box of my comprehension.
Or apprehension.
But oh my brother!
I wait for the sign love carved on the guitar...
I will stare at the clouds
and wait...
I will look out for the
poets of other worlds
to leap into my soul...


I prefer darkness to light,
and the night to the day
for the night brings me
my Moon...
I can hide my true self in its realms...
If you look upon me
O dear sweet night,
bring m the time when
the world, so bright in itself,
will need no light.


I shall not rest
till the night provides
light to all...
Though political,
yet philosophical
will be the times...
and till that day
arrives
When Freedom shall plant
a sweet kiss
upon my lips.
And then my wretched soul shall
rest in the arms of Death
And travel onto a happier world
and
wait...wait...wait...
unnamed Jan 2015
there is morbidity in ur heart, the devil has stuck a finger thru ur ear n punctured ur brain injecting u with the macabre n melancholies of the underworld
ur mind is atrophy, demons have kissed u with sin
666
ur ominous soul is stuck in the void.. the wicked place between life n death. life in ur mind but death in ur heart, angels of evil will ascend to dance with u until ur nothing more than a demoralizing corpse
soon u will be a desolate carcass while ur mind, body n soul belong 2 the inferno of agony that is ur hell
I've seen the world
give thought and joy
to the most demoralizing
objects.
Dawn of Lighten Mar 2016
It's this ism of schism,
And lost in racism with perpetuated choatic cataclysm.

This fixation with complication,
And devotion to destruction.

Lines of grape vine leading to purely deluded wine,
What was devine shine left in oh so decline of our prime.

This determination to provocation,
With invocation to division.

Stuck in the darkness becoming blind,
So **** blind by our hate filthy grime of our sinful crime.

It is our limitation to our self infliction,
For all action comes with reaction.

Time and time again feast dine not knowing our fine line,
To define what is right of mine,
this line this line pathway to beyonder.

To build this rotten fruition,
It is but infliction leading to degregation.

What is this demoralizing scene, hatred, digression of the old days displayed among our mist?
My faith in humanity is like a vine line, and so often as time passing by, the line that held my faith has thinned to hold that line.
Yenson Jul 2019
See the TRUTH and shame the devil
Tell the truth and shame the devil
duplicity, chicanery, Machiavellian and being disingenuous
all have consequences that you will pay for eventually
You have ruined names, reputations, careers and a happy home
in what you lied is some revolution against 'Elitism'
when they truth is a racist mobbing of a successful black couple
who stood up to a thieving racist family and thus your racist war

Tell the truth and shame the devil
you and your mob of criminal gang-stalkers and fooled vigilantes
have framed, fabricated, manipulated, hounded and intimidated
gone through every insidious permutations of Gang-stalkers Manual
thinking I would have broken down or committed suicide by now
you taken an innocent couple, divided them and wrecked love
you've ruined careers, made me jobless, isolated me, spread poison

Tell the truth and shame the devil
you keep on fabricating lies to hide your evil deeds and manners
got unaware masses believing your framing and cover ups
after creating false and staged incidences and happenings
all done to keep stitching me up as you have always done
fooling people into believing they are gods controlling things
selling dummies to people and mugging their intelligence

Tell the truth and shame the devil
you racist bullies picking on a black man because he has no gang
because he is polished and calm, you assume he'll fall in no time
you diminish my strength, stoicism, by creating false reasons
my self-respect, self-assurance and self control you hinge on false
premises, inferring I can only maintain your enforced celibacy
because I am stripping women with my eyes or gaping at big *****

Tell the truth and shame the devil
You are racist criminals hell bent on silencing and destroying me
I am standing still cause I am innocent, confident, intelligent brave
I do not operate through the base instincts of people like you
who are governed by their simple minds and uninformed emotions
childish, immature, base, uncouth, crass indulgent, simplistic *****
your asinine attempts at manipulation or control is all a big con
on the masses who you have hood=winked from day one till now

Tell the truth and shame the devil
off-course you can not because you are all born liars and psychos
triggers, hinges, anchors, sensitizing, gas-lighting, hazing, softening, terrorizing, demoralizing, how long you have been at it,
I am still standing, I am not scared of low lives, **** and criminals
You can fool all the people some of the time and some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time.

                       Tell the truth and shame the devil
Tell the truth and shame the devil
                         Tell the truth and shame the devil
Tell the truth and shame the devil
In East London in England, in the poorer areas, they have a code of Silence, you dont talk, you dont see and you dont hear ' NOFINK ' And most importantly you do not stand up to a gang of crooks like a decent citizen and tell them you are going to expose them and you are not afraid of them. I did just that. I am paying the price cause I believe this is what a straight law-abiding person does and despite my ruination and everything, I will do exactly the same again. Better to die than be ruled in FEAR by some lowlife criminals. I told them to go get proper legit jobs and stop being a public disgrace, they replied I was to be sent to the University of Life for further training. The upshot is I am now in a concentration camp, I suppose that's to improve my concentration as they strip me of all basic human Rights and my Right to peace, Joy and Happiness and everything good . They haven't starved me though, I get copious amounts of reduced goods from the stores but absolutely nothing else, not even a hello, good-bye or even a basic 'thanks for your custom, only cold unfriendly stares, if not being harassed and taunted and lately some big ***** women standing in my way. Not very nice I tell you, what's the point, a pariah feeling **** is really like a fish needing a swimming costume and an inflatable fish.
You've gotta laugh................
Mercy B May 2015
This is a poem I wrote and posted in 2013 and it hits homes so very much for me I had to revisit it.


I will not allow anyone' s judgments further even one more moment of self doubt
              They can't break me.
The demoralizing words cast my way mean nothing and the lack of faith,
              Stronger it will make me.

Finally I have realized that I do not have to live up to their set of standards, always trying to impress.
               I alone will break their mold.
No longer will I vie for others affection or seek to achieve someone else's perfection,
                I will let my own story unfold.

My mistakes are unique to just myself, I will embrace them, learn and keep moving on.
                Standing true on my own two feet.
I will have both successes and failures throughout the journey  before me.
                 Never again shall I give into defeat.
I will never surrender
Zackbobo Jan 2016
Because of the asphyxiation
Of the inebriation caused by another soul,
Perhaps she is the half to complete your whole.
Spending your time in reverie
Woolgathering the next time you’re fortunate enough to see
Her smile.

Overthinking comes naturally
So Plans are fabricated tactfully to meet with her again,
Thoughts of her consuming you like some euphoric sin.
The infatuation only brief
Ends usually with demoralizing grief
So they call it a crush
Priyanka Dey May 2015
You know I wont listen.
It's clear I don't care.
The reasons are few--
Not one said.
Not once explained.
I have walked this road...
The same everyday.
I have swallowed your glares,
I have borne so much pain!
Time's running out,
I can feel it in my chest.
Something's stuck!
Something's wrong!
I cannot get this straight.
And there you are--
Along with the rest.
Barking continuously,
With litanies that know no end.
You ought to stop!
Care to take a break?
Because no one is listening.
Nobody cares.
I am here to live a life,
And I need to live it well.
So you take your stuff--
Your opinions...your demoralizing self.
Take it all and disappear,
Get out of my face !
Darkness still shines,
Shinning brighter than the sun.
Evil doers who have skills of demoralizing,
Like politicians like pelicans dipping for fish.

HUNGRY *******!!

Try to diminish the matter, let's make it smaller,
Because if you focus on it, it will get larger.
Darkness like an impenetrable state of material.
Void in every and any space or form of light.

Destroying every shine that's right,
Who can heave light out of sight.
Yes! darkness still shines and hurts like a assegai.
Which punchers a hole in the hope or dreams of our bright beliefs.

It is said in the Bible,
That sufferings will always go on.
Man will **** and people will die for another to be born.
But don't forget that although darkness still shines.

It's not truthful light but the light that will soon die.
David Betten Oct 2016
TLACAELEL                                                            
            The weeks since last we met found Hungry Prince
            Of late locked in his tower, casting scrolls
            Which chart the star-crossed charms of the occult.
            And in the predawn darkness of his arts,
            He broke through to a voice from the beyond
            Which whispered that the throne of Mexico
            Must soon come to be ruled by foreigners.

PRIEST OF TLALOC
            And thus the emperor submits to trial,
            And these, their wagers, are red herrings, then.

TLACAELEL
            To spare us the demoralizing news.
            The spirits’ hands will steer them to reveal
            If this prognostication failed or not.

PRIEST OF TLALOC
            The ball’s in motion. Let the gods decide.

TLACAELEL
            Motecuhzoma falls! The ball is down! The ball is down!

PRIEST OF TLALOC
            Dust rises, and our lord is lost to view!

TLACAELEL
            Three in a row! Were we left hanging, then,
            For torturers to **** by small and small?

                              MOTECUHZOMA and HUNGRY PRINCE reappear.

MOTECUHZOMA [aside]
            I’ve lost then, but the full significance
            Of that word “lost” I’ve yet begun to know.
            Gods need not lie, and here we have their words.
            Well, let it come. [to Tlacaelel] Unseal the wagers, lord,
            And read before these noble witnesses
            The stakes we trusted to you at the serve.

TLACAELEL
            First, the abortive fee for Hungry Prince:
            King of Texcoco, had this victory
            Been won by his imperial majesty,
            And you had failed, your forfeiture had been . . .
                                                             [Opens the first wager.]
            The loss of all your lands, your courts, your throne,
            And all, for your opponent’s acquisition,
            Decoronation to a common man,
            And forced prostration to this gentleman.

HUNGRY PRINCE
            A staggering ransom! I must thank the gods,
            Not for their championing me, but truth.
From my play in verse, thefloralwar.com
Monique Aug 2017
If I told you to look in my eyes would you be able to see the mystery of untold truth twisted in lies?
Look at me with an open mind and read the fine prints sketched in my deep brown eyes.
Understand that I’m not a work of art to showcase in a gallery of hidden ignorance.
Favor my solitude and leash onto my oxygen and see that I am the art in a work of progress ever since.
Do not label me due to my ethnicity, skin tone, hair type, sexuality, religion and individuality.
Do not defy my capabilities and slaughter me with words and force me to think that your criticism defines my reality.
Look beyond the exterior layer and see me as a human.
My flaws are not to be considered jokes.
My brown skin is not to be a target for death.
My preference is not to be ridiculed and abused for love.
My religion is not to be stereotypical and dragged down as one.
We live in a society where mental illness is to be cured over drinking tea,
We live in a society where we rather poison our system with liquid and smoke to go in another dimension to escape reality.
We live in a society where social media depicts whether we’re beautiful or worthy.
We live in a society where we segregate ourselves in our own race because of insecurity.
We are imperfect and demand change but refuse to change ourselves for a better way of living.
We rather be a part of the problem rather than the solution because working together is a sacrifice than willing.
My intelligence is not to be measured by your inability to understand my standpoint, it is not to be underestimated.
Do not try to paint a picture or lye in your bed of presumption unraveling the knots of your lack of knowledge of who I am.
I am not defined by your weapon you consistently lash at me with your tongue.
I am not to be seen as the lyrics in those demoralizing rap songs.
I am not to be hold to a lower standard and revoke of my abilities because I am a woman.
I may be a lot of things but that does not give you the right to discriminate my life as a human being.
When you look at me, value me for the person I am,
And that person is beautifully and wonderfully made.

-dpk
Realeboga M Nov 2017
Ain't no sun shines brighter than the one that burns me
I'm a writer but I can't get the words out
And to some extent that thought haunts me,
It daunts, haunts me.
It plays melodies of depression,
Symphonies that require expressions,
Harmonies that need synchronizing
But keep agonizing
Keep agitating
Aggrevating

Demoralizing my need.

When last did you write?
When next will you write?
Where's your freedom of expression?
Is it drowning in your mild depression?
What happened to your passion?
Your sense of poetic style and fashion?
What's up with this caution?

Did at some point poetry break you?
Or the need to give your heart to specific words hurt your need?

What's going on?

"Hell, I just can't write. I can't put up a fight, I'm out of my mind. Traveling in  a mental continuum searching for constellations that will support my mode of writing and give me the strength that I need"

That's more than enough to make us wait then.
poetry passion love depression feelings confusion writersBlock
DC raw love Dec 2014
derogatory, snide and mocking
demoralizing things
without saying your sorry

a ****** up thing
without realizing

you hurt someone
without even trying

the ones who do this
are the ones that don’t care

it’s never about others
it’s all about them

they will never learn
nor will they ever will

only to know the jokes on them
The roaring never ceased.
It grew louder and louder as it drew near,
Trapping itself in my eardrums so it could continue its assault forever.
The sound mocked me with its resonance,
Constantly reminding me of my mistakes.
It enjoyed demoralizing me
And watching me choke under its unneeded pressure.
I could see the light in the distance.
                                                       ­     It was coming.
A soft wind encircled me as I stepped further into the darkness,
Trying to persuade me to stay with its false warmth.
I was no fool.
I knew what really lied behind its sympathetic howling,  
                                                      ­                                         hatred
The wind despised me as much as the heinous roar.
However, it no longer matter.
                                                     The light was coming.
I took my final step,
Collapsing onto the cold welcoming brass.
I was finally going to be free.
                   The light was coming.
As it drew closer with its warming glare,
The roar grew more desperate in its horrendous attempts.
But the sound became muffled by the alluring brightness.
I didn’t care anymore.
My heart felt at ease now as they approached me.
I opened my arms so that I may embrace them when they arrived.
                                                        ­                               The light was coming.

— The End —