"depict" poems
~
*O Painter
with thy own eye
would thee
paint me in mine own natural hue
prithee paint me as i am,
imperfections
and blemishes true
Load thy brush
with colors sundry
to maketh yond first pure sweep
across the ****** frieze,
fill'd with pangs of hunger.
paint me as i standeth
bethought, in deep
With mine own love and mine own desire,
blurring the edges unclean
with mine own regrets
and mine own mental gyre,
in mine own natural age,
of deep forest green
O Painter
Paint me sinister turquoise,
in lavender and maroon,
combine the amethyst and amber
blend the iceberg
and the indigo moon.
Paint me as i standeth,
prithee see with thy eye
a mistress in yond lady plight
Prithee paint me all i am
i cullionly
a mistress in all yond lady might
Paint me in the optimistic
silv'r of dawn,
but don’t miss the purple
to shade the bruise
of the bygone.
paint me in the sky blue journal
O Painter
Paint me as a unique template
smudge black white and grizzled
merging all the colors of thy palette.
col'r me a rainbow
in a rainy drizzle
Paint me tall so yond i standeth
loftier than any mountain
Paint me as a dram bird, delicate
with soft feathers silken
Paint me harmony, as a violin
so yond i can sing thy solitary tune
paint me as thy poetry
with song and melody
wrapp'd in a cocoon
O Painter
paint me as a dream yond rises
in did saturate colors
with a steady upbeat flight awry
tint, a fluttering
of a quite quaint butterfly
Portray me with endurance
imbue so bold and bright
doth not hesitate
to depict mine own mind
in profound fuchsia and white.
Useth the colors yond thee would borrow
Thy palette not yet exsufflicate
Paint mine own loss and mine own sorrow
in search of a shade so ******
Adorn mine own heart in glowing garnet
at which hour thee paint mine own love
add a true broken blue shade
of the cloud and the rain above;
Study mine own dry sorrow
in mine own soul
useth any shade thee plaited
soften the edges of control
in a tinge of xanthene.
O Painter
Prithee paint me
Mine own passion and mine own spirit
shall has't a crimson r'd hint
mine own remorse and mine own regret
shall reflect an ink stain print
Paint me in mine own eye so true
O Painter
but add a dash of courage too*
~
Dec 17, 2017
Dec 17, 2017 at 10:52 AM UTC
From the ashes I descend,
Rising among the flames,
As shades of red.
Orange and yellow,
Blend within the explosion,
Of my rebirth,
Claiming my life force once more.
My deep hazel eyes,
Drenched in golden brown,
Surrounded by a burst of jade,
Speckled with dark green,
Reveal my humility,
Compassion and genuine kindness,
Allowing you to behold,
The window to my soul.
The vessel,
Containing my spirit,
Conflicts with the feminine demeanor,
Exposing sincerity,
Comforting hands of a care-giver,
The voice of loyalty,
Gently escaping lips,
Tears of empathy,
Seeping with understanding,
Kisses of affection,
As soft spoken words,
Depict desires,
Hopes and the warmth,
Of pure love.
Mystery envelops my origin,
Becoming a mystical being,
With the ability to heal,
The potential to inspire,
Living proof of an alleged myth,
Yielding in protection,
As my plethora of feathers,
Shield the individuals I adore,
From darkness,
Attempting to swallow the light,
We yearn to discover.
Blind Thoughts of denial,
Shall forsake your eyes,
If you pass judgment,
Upon me,
For my cloak of skin,
Concealing my true beauty.
As a Phoenix,
I refuse to watch,
The children of diversity,
Suffer degradation,
Living in fear of discrimination,
Stifling the right to love another,
To dress in garments,
That correlate the body with the mind.
I shall rage to cease,
The hands of violence leaving bruises,
Ignorance stripping,
Breaths of air from a pair of lungs,
As homophobia,
Transphobia, and intolerance,
Deplete individuality from a heart,
Deserving liberty,
The pursuit of happiness,
A chance to survive.
The Earth returns my soul,
To reap the love,
Concealed in assumptions,
And sow acceptance into,
The fields of society,
As I continue,
To soar into a cerulean sky.
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 2:45 PM UTC
Why is it so difficult to leave my life alone
Cast that last stone
I feel like Frankenstein the monster
And your a mob of angry county officials
Getting high on locking away my roster
Big Man you are with you excess of power
Targeting helpless youth
Who only aim to survive
To escape imprisonment alive
To everyday simply strive
For some acceptance
To be be beat down literally abused by your hand
Because our hunger over took morals
What is right
Is right being cold and hungry every night
Is right being forced into institutions
You've already chosen my life's conclusion
My dreams depict my happy illusion
Our financial status fusion
Causing an eruption of misguided confusion
I'll win this war
When when it seems every battle I'm losing
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 7:22 AM UTC
Once I saw a beautiful bird
She was one of a kind
And when she flutters, the sun pays attention
As the clouds pay respect.
Her feathers depict unrelenting grace
And one would get lost in her eyes
Other birds pursued her for days
Some would even go for miles.
You'd somehow think she has it all
All except for one
The heart of whom she truly loves
The heart of a human.
Not only forbidden but impossible
This tale tells it all
How can a man hear her heart?
How can he possibly fall?
She looks at him from afar
He doesn't even know
A single tear fell from her eyes
As she wished upon a star.
"I don't even believe that such myths exist,
But perhaps, you'll grant me my wish
Only one and one will do
Make me human so he'll love me, too."
Oh, the poor bird who hoped for much
Who could only do as hope for such
For a dream, a wish that will never come true
Now her wing got hurt as she flew.
Oh, the beautiful bird with a broken wing
She can still fly but never sing
A sweet lullaby of a wish coming true
A lullaby of the only man she loved and will forever do.
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 12:27 AM UTC
by Desmond Makatu,
Your visits are unpredictable.
like a ghost, you're invisible.
The attacks are inevitable.
You come like a thief at night.
You seize me day and night.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
Cruelty unrestricted to age.
Victimising even toddlers.
Unrestricted to ethnic groups.
My life has time gaps.
Gaps, like discrete graphs.
Cracks depict thin line between life and death.
Grace bridges the gaps and life prevails over death.
Seizures still haunt me like a demonic wrath.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
Attacks are brief, bruises lasts forever.
You offer questions only God can answer.
Quest for answers is like probing for cure of Cancer.
Death seemed to be the answer but God thought otherwise.
First seizure shook like multiple earthquakes.
Followed by a pool of darkness.
woke up confused, crowd's ****** expressions said a thousand words.
Migraines raided my head, exposed to enormous pressure.
Officially baptised by wrath of seizures.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
You're a physical and psychological culprit.
Like a Yoyo, you take me into a roller-coaster of emotions.
Aftermaths of your theft are etched in my mind as if they’re on stones.
Behind my “poker face” lies devastating pains than physicals seen by the crowd.
"Epilepsy: an inevitable thief"
Watch video on YouTube. https://youtu.be/VggXerYLOHY
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 8:02 PM UTC
having you stuck on my mind
is an understatement
in every crack and crevices I find
you there, always present
you permeate in every thought
like literally in all that I think
threatening to fill my mind
so I incarnate you through ink
writing poems during library
when I should be philosophizing Saussure
but don't worry I can cope
I can handle this, be sure
I've drawn you in pencil
heck, even in paint
but alas, my skills are not enough
to depict the beauty you contain
but don't think you're a distraction
you're more of a motivation
like serene blue skies to a young bird's eyes
you are what inspires me to greater motions
oh girl,
I'm chest deep in thoughts of you
but tell me, my love
do you think of me too?
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 7:41 AM UTC
why do we always inspire the young who idolise and idealise, make the middle-aged merchants and are spoken of by the old as necessary memories by way of rekindling their own memories of youth not travelled upon the paths of the various arts?
modern world decided
to depict the **** perfect family
as a form of ******
now we're told the perfect
family is within reach of
our genetic understanding of things
and how easily synthesised,
how easily synthesised and
rarely analysed to be mutually
bored before the television
content and silent...
raising a family these days almost
feels like committing an act of ******
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 7:07 PM UTC
The shoes were red,
and stood at 7 inches high,
perfect to look sophisticated,
and to feel like she was touching the sky.
Everyone criticized her,
because they thought she wore them to get attention,
and co-workers would confront her,
to give her a ***** mention.
Only the people don't understand,
because she feels self conscious of her height,
and the heels are the only opportunity,
to make her feel alright.
. . .
The shoes were brown,
covered with mud and dirt,
shoe laces tangled in a mess,
and didn't have any way to avert.
People overlooked him,
when he wanted something,
because they thought he didn't care,
but who are they to be judging!
The truth is,
in fact he did care,
but didn't have enough money,
to buy nice shoes to wear.
. . .
The shoes were neon,
like the color of the sun,
they had bright shoes laces,
that he wears when he runs.
People thought they were ugly,
because they were off brand,
and they lacked the character,
that all the cool shoes had.
But really he was trying,
to just fit in,
but they would reject him,
every time he begins.
. . .
Be kind,
for everyone is fighting a conflict,
that you know nothing about,
so don't judge nor depict.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
Is it really this hard
to find people I can go back and forth in discussion with
about Buddhist and Hindu theology compared and contrasted against Christian and Yoruba
I want to scream and shout and dance with somebody over Janet Jackson's new album
and at the same time
feel the heat and talk with somebody about how extremely sad and depressing
but oh so good Giovanni's Room was
I want to be able to speak with somebody whom can quote Malcolm X and Kafka in the same breath
Somebody who could see the logic of Pac and Immortal Technique on the same piece
with the Budos Band or Mulatu on the back track
I want to know people whom know
just exactly who
Suki Lee and Bayard Rustin are
can we talk about Jacob Kinohoor's ***
at least for a moment
then get into some B.B. King or Johnny Cash
have you seen Dune
the one from the eighties
James McAvoy shirtless
as well as John Goodman’s acting
were only good things about the other
if you read it
even better
what about the ***** that sat by the door
Or
killer clowns from outer space
let's be shady and point out all the inaccuracies on the history and discovery and channels
praying for that day
that's not in February
They show Shaka Zulu in full
without commercial interruption
Or maybe a documentary about native American people
with actual native actors
that do not depict them all as either
plains people
Or Inuit
Cause you already know
not everybody is Eskimo
then let's put on our own private production of legally blonde
followed by encore presentations of the classic scene
Of Miss Celie and miss Ofelia going in over Harpo
can I discuss with you
how the Patriot act nullifies everything in constitution
And the bill of rights
even though they never were intended to be permanent any way
It would be nice to not have to explain a Corporatocracy
all my life Ive been into Egyptology
You do know that Imhotep was the actual founder of medicine
by a good 2000 years
not that Hippocrat
the thing is
I'm still learning
when attempt to delve that deeply into people
which I don't even consider that deep
They often misunderstand
They often concluded without thinking
maybe
just maybe
©Christopher F. Brown 2015
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
I thought of you today...
****
It’s been at least a year...
Thanks to Halsey...
But I can’t complain..
Music is beautiful that way..
In the sense where a song can be so beautifully written, with lyrics that depict all the things you experienced, and especially all that you wanted to say but couldn’t.
****
(I hold back a laugh...)
This is kind of painful...
I shake you off.
My heart only associates you with pain.
I won’t let myself go back there.
But I can’t deny these lyrics.....
Because they were our story for the longest time...
I am speechless because I never expected a song to pull that hard on the heart strings of my past.
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 2:20 PM UTC
The wick is fading, and I have no matches left
In this dark abyss where I sit depressed
My valiant heart has become a perch for crows
Smile shaped in stone
Each embrace stiff and cold from my marbled soul
My arms depict a grasping hand
Reaching for a world these etched eyes will never know
Trapped in the heart of a withered artist
His mad dealings mold and make me
A victim of his musings
Crafted in a candlelit madness
Delicate delusions and vague allusions
To courage in the many veiled faces of death
Carved and set at the base of the steps
Statuesque
Jul 2, 2021
Jul 2, 2021 at 5:19 PM UTC
I wander.
Endlessly, I wander.
Ceaselessly, I walk.
Forever more, I go on.
How many ways can I depict my unrest to you?
Footprints are the timeline of my life.
Where I’ve been, the mistakes and wrong turns I’ve made.
The people who have walked in.
The people who have walked out.
They are etched in the ground, broken in by my feet.
Every so often, a second set of footprints joins mine.
Some go on for months, years.
Those are my favorites.
But they never really last.
Most dip in and out of my path.
Some lead me in circles until I have to leave them behind.
You never know what steps are the right ones
Until you’re looking back at them, behind you.
I wander.
I search.
I trust.
And then, I hurt.
Of these steps I am sometimes wary,
But the set of prints next to mine makes me sure footed, now.
I squint to look ahead, but my vision is terrible.
I can’t be sure, but it seems that there are many sets of prints ahead.
Strong, deep, sure-footed paths are carved out in the future.
Please, take me there.
Please, do not lead me astray.
I don’t want to have look back to judge the way you stroll by my side.
Do not waiver now; I haven’t got time for circles any longer.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 1:55 AM UTC
My eyes search
the navy air
but are unable to
depict the
soft features of the rabbits
loping tentatively
through patchy glebe.
I wish it was spring with
bright white fruits.
Just ripe.
Not summer, because
in the summer we cloy
under the fat cream trees.
I want to see you,
and the wild hares,
but the twilight's
hiding
its secrets from us.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 12:31 PM UTC
I've always been confused
by media's personifications of Life.
*A beautiful woman
whose skin is flawless
whose face is symmetric
who has no faults*
She, Life, is perfect and clean.
How life truly is not
A depiction of Life I give you now,
one not so perfect as She before.
Skin and features of many
taking in the best and worst.
A being who is strong and weak
visibly ill while being well.
A being who is beautiful in it's -u-g-l-i-n-e-s-s-
or rather,
a being who is beautiful in it's uniqueness.
A being who is not perfect,
but strives to be.
A being who is not commonly pretty,
but true to the mixture of
Pain and Sorrow
with
Ease and Joy.
Now I am sure you depict
Life a different way.
But how truthful all these depictions are
for life is different to everyone.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
From wars erupting earths core,
we've settled a score only for the heavens and hell to see.
We smother the stench of temptations with potpourri,
only to deceive others stimulating parts of a brain.
Still pardon my slang
Are we using something to rearrange a type of mental suicide arranged,
in order to display portraits of lucid terror?,
Throwing smoke bombs to keep a little order
but even so that's just keeping us ***** for more slaughter.
Like roaches and raid a single spray will cause fragment mutations
a zombie faze shot with steroids and black plagues, just a graze to depict nations,
human infested sanitation able to retaliate government abomination.
A conversation my mind read by Pagans
walking through hallways,
a million rooms perfume and a two headed waitress,
mind binding views,
imitations, crosses, limitations,
serpents, pulpits, fuels lit and shattered creations.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
did it work?
I give a useless tug on my skin, done to reassure me
instead it reaffirms to me:
I am, again, inconsolable.
is the mask I wear today sealed on tight? too tight?
does it hurt to pretend so much?
does it seem clear to anyone else that there are loose ends I've yet to tend to? backdoors I've overlooked?
transparencies? can they see through me?
I bare my teeth. canines, canines from the days of carnivores.
am I that carnivore? in my genes I am.
and in practice?
inconsolable, uncontrollable
barely a threat in her form.
this question comes to me under many guises:
an old man asking me: are you that of practice or are you that of genes?
a professor lecturing: are you that of cultivated identity or that of inherited form?
my concerned friends crying:
who are you?
is your mask anything like you?
and then i wake.
it's a terror turned nightly chorus.
recurring nightmares, doctors offer.
i admit i know the content of my dreams to be unfounded:
in life there are no physical masks that do the jobs my terrors depict.
no veil to hide the contours of each flawed personality, no mask to others, just me, weeping-in-the-bathroom, never-myself me
and those attempted favours to be like one another
i'll be like you so you'll like me
i'll like you because i'm like you
so the body charges on in this society like a mirror
cross your left leg when she crosses her right, fold your arms when she's folded hers, raise your hand to say hello, raise your hand to say goodbye
a kiss on the right cheek, a kiss on the left, one more on the left
this is how you show love and a greeting all at once
fold your arms over each other, this is sympathy, this is greeting, do you take comfort in this too?
so you learn to speak with your arms, and you learn to speak with your legs, and you learn to speak with your face, and you learn to speak with your head.
soon your eyes are apprentices of acquaintances, learning to borrow looks like library books, take on others' stories like they've read them end to end.
so in the middle of this process you learn to effectively say:
i see you, i hear you, i perceive you.
and in these attempted favours, at the end of your night terrors, is the parrot that they want to see. the parrot that you argue, can't really be me.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
*
*Your pearls & diamonds
Would transcend into tears
One needs to kneel down
In front of BELOVEDz
But it is important
To surrender at the feet
There is no need to
Utter a single word there
Your coming to the
Threshold of BELOVEDz heart
Is more than enough
To be blessed with LOVE*
That is why...
Everyone comes with a prayer
Everyone comes with
their wishes and desires
But I have come with
my LOVE at your doorstep
I have come with a
Broken heart in my begging bowl
*Look at me, look into me
This heart carries within
And displays to the world
All the good glories
Of your DIVINE LOVE
I've searched for you everywhere
With a broken heart of mine
I've wandered everywhere
With melancholic memories of your LOVE
When I am without YOU
My fate isn't working for me
Now how can anything change
The destiny of my life?
Only thing that exists here is sadness
Every moment I live,
Every moment I am alive
It tears my heart into
Small shards and pieces
I can not even talk about
Your divinity to anyone
My tears and sorrows too can't
Depict the story of our LOVE
Only if I am able to see you again
I will be born again to live again
Oh.. Zuliet, Oh.. Layla -
I've come at your doorstep
With the divine LOVE of
Romeo and Majnun*
That is why...
Everyone comes with a prayer
Everyone comes with
their wishes and desires
But I have come with
my LOVE at your doorstep
I have come with a
Broken heart in my begging bowl
*The arrows of your blessings of LOVE
The arrows of your hopes in LOVE
Can never miss its target - my heart
The God/dess - the Nature - The Karma
Can never NOT oblige to a LOVERz plea
Just keep faith in LOVE
Believe and trust in LOVE
Everything will be fine in LOVE
Even if you can't utter a word
Serve your heart in a begging bowl
And surrender it at your
BELOVEDz feet in LOVE
Just remove this veil of
Doubt from your heart
Then you'll see your LOVE
In front of YOU
And you'll also see
my LOVE in front of YOU
Nor you have to present
A bouquet of flowers
Nor you have to bring any other gifts
Oh my LOVERz... Oh my BELOVEDz
Just bring your broken-heart
And kiss the feet of BELOVEDz*
That is why...
Everyone comes with a prayer
Everyone comes with
their wishes and desires
But I have come with
my LOVE at your doorstep
I have come with a
Broken heart in my begging bowl
*Look at me, look into me
This heart carries within
And displays to the world
All the good glories
Of your DIVINE LOVE*
*
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 11:31 PM UTC
To be loved by a writer
Is to be immortalized
You will live on forever in her writing
Your quirks,
Your ideas,
Your insecurities,
Writers notice everything
And we never forget
You might catch her smiling at you
For what seems like no reason at all
But she's just trying to describe
The exact color of your eyes
To be loved by a writer
Is to have your entire relationship in written word
All you have to do is read and re-live everything again
Your first kiss,
Your first fight,
Your first date
Nostalgic memories in chronological order
And you may even learn something you never knew
Since everything will be in her point of view
To be loved by a writer
Is to see her frustration
Because she wishes she could be an artist
Since no words serve you justice
She wishes she could just paint a picture
And then they would understand
Because no amount of words could perfectly depict
Your hair sticking up,
Your abundance of freckles,
You wearing glasses
She gets upset when she thinks
She'll never fully portray all the things you say and do
But she'll never run out of ways to say "I love you"
To be loved by a writer
Is to be eternal
And to never fully disappear
And no matter what, she'll see you everywhere
Even when she opens her mind and escapes reality
Because she is the writer
And you are her writing
For you own her heart
From which her words flow
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
**A little thing called *** its just like when you get a text and your fingers play a sensual melody on the keys.
Notice I use the word sensual to depict the image of the man being the fingers and the woman being the keys, with that touch she loves so much...she may not know if it's love our lust.
At first she may have been confused...but didn't resist to remove her clothes and shoes, way after it will turn out into a story of pleasure and laughter.
This thing called *** is not for kids, it might start off with a kiss , then a poke some months later she tells you she has your child you thought was a joke.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 3:54 AM 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
Shoot me, You might as well, cause I'm a threat
A threat to your system, a threat to your net
profit and status quo, so pick up that gun shoot me and pray to the ground I go, and when you bury me you better call me a madman and pray that the martyrs don't grow
You may as well shoot me Mr.Police officer,
It may put your employers at ease
One bless black man with a heart of power
One less antibiotic to your disease
Don't forget to tell me I'm resisting, don't forget to tase me til I fall
Don't forget to choke me so those listening won't hear my struggles, my calls
Don't forget to have the media depict me as a **** and a criminal and a menace to society
Don't forget to reprimand and berate me
Remind your older white listeners that my kind, my skin color
is still not considered American Propriety
But more like American property, disposable goods
So **** me, the cameras are recording but don't worry you'll get off free
Might be just a conviction but your Massa's new henchmen and ***** still got the key
A couple months paid administrative leave so you can sit on a beach, drink some ice tea
Mad that you can no longer put chains on our wrists so you put handcuffs instead
No longer pulling whips across our backs so you bury hot burning lead
No longer working your fields for all to see but instead privatized free prison labor with your warden holding the key.
Martin told me when he us that he had a dream
I got his same DNA in my bloodstream
And in every cell in my body I feel the effect, I teem
I boil I scream, when I see a black mother or father gunned down by police men and the children witnessing the death, the blood, the stream.....
I scheme, and when I sleep, I dream
And when I dream it's bad news for you
to avenge those we lost by crimes, undue
To put a stop to all of you.
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 9:13 PM UTC
Walking contradiction that has lost his validation, so now he sits alone in condemnation. Frustration seeps in, demons live in his head, praying to God that if he could just be dead.
Contradiction is his addiction, worthless to this affliction, hypocritical cynical pessimist that has lost the will to hold affection. Stressing on frivolous things, don't know what voices to believe in, so he does his own thing which in some peoples eyes is a sin.
Believe in a deity as the scream at him, on the picket fence, feels like he has no purpose, his fate seems dim. Labelled by humans, no better than a pig getting sent to the slaughter, or a innocent man sent to prison on the charges of man slaughter.
Walking contradiction, wants to do more for society because he no longer wants to play the victim. Held back by himself and by others, scolded as inhuman by racists that define everything about him just based on his colour.
Left with an illusion that he has a voice, that he has a choice, that he can be himself, that he can live happy and rejoice, that he doesn't have to live in chaos. Fading out and fading in, wanting to give in, but he is stubborn, he won't be easily seduced to be part of society's whim.
Isolated, so complicated, lost in monotony, people say he has a purpose, but he feels like he an anomaly. A mistake, a freak of nature, he know's it's not good to keep in anger, but how else could one act if all their life they have been deemed a stranger. People say he doesn't have scars but they don't look on the inside, they just see his outward appearance, no wonder he always confide's with thoughts of suicide.
Convictions that depict him as a nobody, restricted from playing with others because he isn't a somebody. Walking contradiction thats causes friction with everybody, flooding over misconceptions as if he were a tsunami. They tried to break him, they tried to make him into something else, but if they think he will conform they are mistaken.
Walking contradiction, hypocritical and honest, doesn't care about making a profit, he just wants to demolish and astonish people's thinking like he's a rhythmical prophet.
How do I know all of this? Well to be frank the man i'm talking about is me, but don't worry I have come along way as you can see. I have become better and healthier than the kid I used to be, more mature than the teen with insecurities, I have become a man that has fortified his integrity.
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 6:23 PM UTC
Your “about me” says: ask”, but I don’t know where to start.
Your intent wants to “date but nothing serious” at heart.
But I wanna know more,
my ambition is to learn how very ambitious you are.
The 3 photos attached to your profile inspired me to write this scribe.
Hoping I don’t come off as corny cuz if I do I’ll be dying inside.
But I’ll shoot my shot, slide in ya DM and hope the best of luck.
And I ain’t goin lie, I’m digging ya style, you look **** as hell without your pictures showing too much.
Eloquent features, soft lips, but are your eyez filled with pain?
Cuz the pics don’t depict a smile, please don’t take that the wrong way.
I wanna get high with you spiritually and **** the **** out of your thoughts.
Make your spirit bust as ya soul gets wetter from every idea that was sought.
I wanna kick it, share uncontrollable laughter, go on adventures and get lost.
What’s the cost?
Free thinker, free thinker, are you thinking I’m too soft?
Nah never that, I’m just not afraid to show emotion in which this generation is currently at fault. Their lost.
Doesn’t mean I’m in love with you, doesn’t mean I’m not guarded and ****
Doesn’t mean I’m tryna lock you down like Wayne and mya and have you fallen and ****
But I am interested like whoa, who knows it could be destiny
Even though I wanna see how you put that thing on me, I can’t let you get the best of me
I wanna know everything
from your first love to your last
All just because I’m captivated and your “about me” says “ask”
So I ask.... are you intrigued as well?
Or am I looking for love in a wrong venue?
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 12:19 PM UTC
Poetry is the art,
Of word selection.
It is the beautiful combination
Of syllables, rhymes, colors, and images.
A place where a description
Consists of few words.
In that sense,
I hope that one day,
The art of poetry that will depict me will be
Indescribable.
I wish for one day, to not be called
Beautiful
Pretty
Adorable or
Kind.
But, instead, I want to be
Indescribable.
"No one adjective can describe you, so you're
Indescribable.
You're everything: from beauty to fierce, and yet,
That doesn't seem enough. You are, love,
Indescribable."
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 11:56 PM UTC