"depreciate" poems
As the sound of the fireworks
Signaled celebration for the rest
As the night sky lit up with lights
It was the beginning of a test
Fireworks echoed the end
It was similar to the sound
Of breaking and collapsing
Of everything crashing down
The more the twists and turns
The more worth and excitement
The more the trials challenges
The more resistance to torment
As fireworks exploded in the sky
As fire rained downed onto earth
As the end echoed from the flames
A beacon of hope was given birth
A beacon enveloped in flames
Which tried to exterminate
An embodiment of strength
Which can never depreciate
Wrapped in burning flames
Which tried so ever
To turn it to nothing
But it didn't surrender
A Phoenix born from the ashes
A beacon that would not surrender
A Phoenix that lit up in darkness
A Phoenix that only gets stronger
A Phoenix that's brighter
Than anything ever seen
Born from fire that burned it
And stronger than what it's been
When there is nothing more but ash
And when it seems hopeless
Be your own Phoenix
And illuminate in darkness
So that everyone in doubt
And all of the hindrances
Will be in awe and no longer deny
Your immeasurable unwavering resilience
A Phoenix that wouldn't allow
The same flame, to burn it down
A Phoenix that turns fire
Into its glorious gown
A Phoenix that turns the end
Into a magnificent enviable crown
A Phoenix, even in a sea of fire
Wouldn't dare burn or drown
From the fire and ashes, it has risen
Unwavering strength and unyielding flame
Spreading its wings to soar once again
I am still me but no longer the same
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 7:34 AM UTC
580
I gave myself to Him—
And took Himself, for Pay,
The solemn contract of a Life
Was ratified, this way—
The Wealth might disappoint—
Myself a poorer prove
Than this great Purchaser suspect,
The Daily Own—of Love
Depreciate the Vision—
But till the Merchant buy—
Still Fable—in the Isles of Spice—
The subtle Cargoes—lie—
At least—’tis Mutual—Risk—
Some—found it—Mutual Gain—
Sweet Debt of Life—Each Night to owe—
Insolvent—every Noon—
3.2k
Poet: be gentle with yourself
never compare yourself to the coffee house across the street
the one that looks so lonely and wise with it’s brewing tales
and tea leaves
do not forget that you are a magician’s tarot cards, fate
holders and dream menders and plot twisters
poet: be gentle with yourself
you are a small wind hiding from the storm
but trust me your calm will come
remember that you are made of the stars and the universe
and that every atom inside of you is alive just like how
your words are
poet: be gentle with yourself
I know how it feels to hold back from writing
because you depreciate your own self worth
but trust me
the sun shines every day
just to catch a glimpse of you
and the moon cherishes your
fluttering eyelids the way I
cherish you.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
Love hides like a tiny insect,
Sometimes it flies analogously,
Then it finds a corner, just perfect,
For it to sit down and ponder,
Over all the people heartlessly rushing hither, thither, yonder.
Their hearts are fragile like glass,
So small, so brittle.
Hopes, both large and little
Reside amidst jungles of desires.
Everything is such a beautifully perplexing chaos,
That Life stares blankly, and admires.
The Beauty
The Beast
The unyielding Duty
Of Being, at least.
Look at me rant ceaselessly,
As my heart pounds harder than my chest can take.
You come here and leave immediately,
And the illusion dissolves; is all this just fake?
How wonderful I feel,
No matter what I write.
The world will never give me a seal,
Whether wrong, or contemptuously right.
Music rushes into my ears, flooding my canal.
Words and words, I think and think, but nothing seems final.
Appropriate is what they appreciate.
Everything else is just another reason to depreciate.
You have taught me all the ways in which I am not great.
Yet show me how to stop, and your temples will cringe with fret,
With regret.
Sing unto my untamable spirit, tales of clipping wings,
Or the melody of how a ruffled feather sings,
And I will break it down for you,
All the nuances,
Of our last rendezvous.
Dare to look into my eyes.
Even if you find nothing but empty sighs.
I am not made for your poetry.
I am drained now, reduced to nothing but grocery.
My earth derailed from its dreams,
Crashes against mirrors, stiflingly decorated with cuts molded against seams.
Fabrics, Feelings and Fragrances, all laced up.
Pour me some of that whiskey.
I have no glass, just a small, pointless cup.
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 2:27 AM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
I love life, because in living you get all problems
I love eating because you can constipate if you eat a lot,
I love women because they reduce pocket giants to beggars,
I love children because they instill economic tension to parents,
I love trees because green snakes derive poison from them,
I love poor people because their life is pure experiment,
I love rich people because they snobbishly love themselves
I love motor vehicles because they depreciate in a decade,
I love Americans because they have drones for Gaddafi,
I love Americans because they know nothing beyond their borders,
I love the British because they have a monarch in their democracy,
I love Europeans because they were perfect in colonialism,
I love Africans because they are natural stooges, but very showy
I love the Chinese because they are all short, young and commutalists,
I love the Catholic Church because it has liberal piety,
I love Muslims because they are not intellectually tolerant to Rushdie,
I love young girls because they rarely sense danger,
I love Germans because they made a beetle car; Volkswagen,
I love the Japanese for honesty; they declared me Shinto of poetry,
I love my wife for her spendthrift culture
I love my son for his disgust of school and books,
I love myself for being a poetic rapscallion,
I love everything for in love you display your folly,
I love music, wine and money; they expose you to the robbers
I love short people for their mediocrous thought pattern
I love tall women; they are dull, honesty and rarely divorce,
I love English hunchbacks for they are famed for being erotically strong.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 6:50 AM UTC
I'm on one
Been trapped in a buzz for four or six months
Since that I've pulled a few stunts
My mind, opposite judgement of a nun's
So I tend to act rugged when it comes
I'm on one
Zapped down by these side effects
Trapped now, take benzos to alleviate
More and more as the effects depreciate
Good for a few hours
But I need to finish this report, so I give myself powers
Amphetamines by all means
I had a dream once, but now I cant sleep
Don't use guns, to do this damage to myself
Going through funds to do this damage to myself
I'm on one
Is it worth it in the long run?
I've Seen what happens and it isn't fun
But how can I do this job without them
Be out of water, desperate as a trout, man
Aches and pains I think I have the gout man
Take pain killers, the real brain killers
I'm on one
Tipping over while typing these words
Tripping over how I got this net worth
Incognito, reputation with the best first
Wish I could reveal, but I'd have no appeal
They'd think I went bananas
See I no longer have the fun that I had before hand
Gleam in the Rover like the sweat against my forehead
Blasting AC on max, thinking about paying tax
But I already am, my kidneys show the facts
Because I'm on one
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 1:49 AM UTC
She resides on the street outside my office,
from sleepy mornings to crowded nights.
Apparently we share the same working hours.
The hands of Norther has begun to claw
through coats and bones with greediness.
And I worry that she might catch the cold.
Her patient resilience and humble posture,
head bowed down, hand stretched out
constricts my heart in terrified recognition.
She looks like a queen dethroned.
Where was her kingdom before this street?
She seems ageless but infinitely ancient.
I wonder...
What’s it like to watch legs pass you by,
briskly stomping away in annoyance.
How dare she remind us about the flaws of life.
That we are less human than we admit
behind our busy faces and comfortable shoes.
What’s it like begging for plated coins,
when you’ve sacrificed everything
in a foreign country digging for gold?
Humiliation convolutes my heart
every time the ignorant titter of the young
and the turned away faces of the old
depreciate her existence.
Despite my fidgeting just minutes ago
I slowed down by the corner,
searching an answer in her fathomless eyes,
The story of sacrifice is clasped in her hands,
a framed picture of a boy and a girl.
The scribble on it says: ”Please help,
me and my children are starving.”
I knelt beside her,
shyly stroking her weathered hand
before placing the hot Chai by her side
and laying down my tribute in her paper cup.
Her hand held warmth,
when grasping mine, lifting it to her lips.
The kiss and gentle blessing startled me.
Rising to my feet again and heading back
to my comfortable office...
...it started to rain.
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 2:33 PM UTC
flossing jocks swing mighty
***** crow blowing triumphant
incumbents sent to extend the morality
vitality reality equals fallacies and tribulation
recreation station seething with malcontents grossly exaggerate
the aggregate to depreciate the innate greatness of iced milk and cherries
varying fairies trailing mankind grind to different beats
seated meat sacks lack tact and force ill-mannered children
to render hate venders with crayons
yawning chasms plastered with plasma and grass clippings
flipping chihuahuas slipping in to the dark
bouncing ta-ta’s, beer-soaked and tightly clad
refocus the mass passing by
flying low with bellies plastic filled
pelicans land softly on quiet mountain lakes to breed in peace
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 2:16 PM UTC
Chasing after women who can't or won't appreciate
The things I say and do,
I sit alone, deteriorate,
Search for someone new.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
This Saint whose Letters bear Prime in Youth
Like that such my Verses appreciate
And Hand by Clock's Divination sprays Truth
Prevent my own Good Deeds depreciate
How Frequent be your Sprinkles for Good Praise
Which by Volumes soon Tampered for Debate
Yet as Pure Models breed Tolerance raise
Urge me in Trust extend your Honour's sate
Father from the Miles; By then your Heart plombs
What other Morsels must my Bowl offer?
Stoppered at that - Tongues inflamed by their Combs
Still Burst your Berries by Love, dear Elder.
It seems by now that First Names make Sense
Though Birth-Year's Stamp your Longevity hence.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 2:21 AM UTC
I water the cabbages
the dog runs about mad
as I walk back and forth to the blue barrels
filling Gran’s grey watering can.
In college I learnt how to depreciate …
I wouldn’t dare do such a thing.
The caterpillars squatting on the cabbages coil
as the water rains down upon them,
followed by my thumb.
(I keep meaning to write that poem.)
19th of June; 9:45pm —
I have one more job to do
and I will do it practising a few reels.
My fingers do not need my eyes
so make myself a ****** be
in the woods where they can’t see me —
the snakes.
Years and years and years
of cleats traversing the field below
have to left pairs of ungelating snakes
slithering towards the four gates in the field.
Soon I pan to install a 5th
and this worries me,
never having hung one before; plus
what if the snakes bite me. Or worse
I succeed.
For now I fret, leering towards the bull,
I want to see him *** —
#414, she’s still not in calf.
If she repeats again, it’s goodbye for him.
But the ****** just grazing. Swishing at flies,
periodically ****** and poops.
Is my playing distracting him?
I suppose … we’re all entitled
to a night off.
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 2:06 AM UTC
my ears often listen to what they don't want to hear.
instead of picking up all the words that;
boost esteem,
affirm,
demonstrate love,
my auditory perception has acute awareness for words that;
depreciate,
deny,
exude hatred.
i cannot come up with an inkling as to why
my hearing is sharp enough to hear the whispers of disdain, yet deaf to all expressions of affection...
it disconcerts my mind to a point where i now believe i only hear what i deserve.
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 11:04 AM UTC
"I lost her to mental illness."
It just doesn't produce
Quite the same sympathy as
"I lost her to cancer." Or
"I lost her to a car accident."
People look at you strangely
As if you don't understand
What it means to be alive,
That you don't know a person
Is alive and well if they're breathing
And talking and living.
They try to correct you and say
That you're just not in contact
With her anymore,
Not that you've actually lost her.
People think mental illness:
"Can't be that bad, right?"
"At least she's still alive."
"You could still talk to her,
If you wanted."
They think being sad about it,
Being broken hearted over it,
Being depressed because of it,
Is just exaggerated hysterics.
But I lost her to mental illness.
I lost her to mental illness!
It IS that bad!
It means she is gone from me
As much as if she physically died!
I CAN'T talk to her
Even though I do want to!
There is no going back
To the way it used to be.
Every day of the rest of my life
Will be missing a key person
Whom I can never get back.
She abandoned me,
Chose to walk out of my life.
But it was the mental illness
That stole any hope I had
Of seeing her walk back in.
It was the mental illness
That orphaned me.
It was the mental illness
That "killed" my mom.
So please don't trivialize my loss.
Don't depreciate my pain.
It's just as valid and just as real.
I lost her to mental illness.
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 4:20 AM UTC
Don't push me.
I am a force to be reckoned with.
My words can castrate you,
decapitate you,
depreciate you.
Don't push me.
My words are a hurricane
that will rip down the house
you've built on your righteous soul.
My words are a tsunami
that will sink the ship
you sail across your radical sea.
My words are a tornado
that will tear you straight
from your solid ground.
Don't push me.
I weave tales of anger and woe
that force themselves into your mind,
that break you from the inside,
tales that take you past
your comfort zone.
Don't push me.
I can make you fall with this poem.
I can make you cry with my story.
I can make you scream with a few words.
Don't push me.
I am a force to be reckoned with.
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 10:09 PM UTC
i don't mean to encumber you.
or devalue, diminish, degrade, debase, reduce, demean, humble, lower, cheapen, burden, saddle, inconvenience, ****** hinder, cramp, denigrate, belittle, deride, depreciate you, or shoot you full of holes.
it's genuinely not my intent.
i just really need you to go down with me
in flames
right now.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 5:31 AM UTC
Love,
My love lost in tangles.
My lover lost in tangles the wind pushes and pulls,
silk ribbons scarved around metal fence posts.
Carved around sentimental friend posts,
Computer monitor halitosis,
Curvaceous moments leave you hopeless.
Hopeless in the deep end and you drown,
but love,
Lost in angles.
Lost in traditional hang-ups and
Lost on a particular campus.
Divide the mental anguish,
Stand by and maybe hand this,
back to me
I might reciprocate and
Debilitate and the modesty wont
Depreciate as you make your,
point.
Stand by me,
Look lackluster at the edges of
perennial views.
Stand by me,
Walk me down the marital isle of
your perpetual bad news.
-P.S.
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 9:22 AM UTC
Street-Lights and Sun-Bells do Compose your Score
As so do most of your Vinyls acclaim
Such Youth on Keyboards strike as never before
And Breach those Standard Pop Endorsements feign
By Breach I meant Well; Then by Barrows add
Pungent High Scores slide your Growing Debate
Yet knowing your Heart with Values point-stag
Ebony chucks which Ivory once spate
Ah! ***** my Words. For all Sentiments ply
And Tune these Thoughts for Thanks appreciate
Play on, French Steward! Play till your Notes Fly
Then cast my Doubts and Lies depreciate.
Once the Yellow Dragon comes, can you Prepare
To Brace those Flames and Stubborn Merchants dare?
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 2:21 AM UTC
What is our reality?
Bulging waistlines and burger joints?
Sweatshops and religious fights?
Our poisoned food system and corporate profits?
Our jailrate is as high as Mao and Stalin.
These revolving doors and corruptions cannot blind us anymore.
We, the people, deserve to know.
People who hate, depreciate.
The fact is, who can we trust?
Certainly not our bankers,
but what about the Chief Executive Officers,
full of evil and greed?
What about Rana Plaza and Tazreen?
Burning bodies to ash.
And they can get away with
burning bodies?
There was the Holocaust
and then...
there was now.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
Inside the room, alone I wait.
Chained and gagged, to depreciate.
I hang here, every day,
I just want
To waste away.
My ears are gone,
From my eyes I bleed.
What did I do? What sinister deed?
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 7:18 PM UTC
Originate
Meditate
Hallucinate
Dessegregate
Mediate
Alleviate
Try not to hate
Love your mate
Deliberate
Opinionate
Don't procrastinate
Appreciate
one's own fate
Love is fate
A one world state
Human freight
The number eight
A white & black state
Never hate
The human race
Proliferate
Communicate
A gentle trait
The broken crate
A heavy weight
Or just too late
Now devastate
Appreciate
Depreciate
Fabricate
Emulate
The truth dilate
Special date
The animals we ate
Guilt debate
The edge serrate
A better rate
Deliberate
Fascinate
Deviate
Reinstate
Liberate
To moderate
Recreate
Detonate
Annihiliate
Atomic fate
Mediate
Clear the slate
Activate
Now radiate
Food on plate
Gravitate
Now simulate
A perfect place
A heavy weight
Is it too late
Racial debate
Participate
Love & Hate
Just create
Never break
A firm had shake
The State's on the take
The girl is late
A baby to take
A mother aches
A heart breaks
Alleviate
Just fornicate
Now devastate
Appreciate
Depreciate
Fabricate
Emulate
A ******* child
The youth's irate
A mind to take
Facilitate
Deliberate
Fascinate
Deviate
Reinstate
It's getting late
The Earth's own weight
Designate your love as fate
At ninety-eight we all rotate
To Liberate
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
Secrets dripped out from the core of you
And invaded my bones
You unsealed a can of worms to let it’s contents violently spill out
Then you wrenched away the sheep's clothing you once occupied
I felt the person you were depreciate right in front of my eyes
My best friend!
I felt the tremble in your voice
So innocent holding your breath
You bury yourself beneath this self-imposed definition of who you think you are
I hold your problems in my hands
I care too much
Someday that will be my downfall
I feel this petulant need to repress this information…
this truth…
I can forsee it being a burden that will weigh on me
I was hoping perhaps you could compel me to forget.
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 9:37 AM UTC
Rent today, own tomorrow,
A world of excess and material sorrow,
One likely to accumulate, what we call best,
Another will depreciate at their own behest,
Peaks arise from man's own wallet,
Enslaving children in far away squalor,
To keep her entertained, we need not bother,
The mother earth in her glorious colour,
Defined by time in it's infinite heap,
We reap what we sew, and so we reap.
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 1:45 AM UTC
Who have we become?
You rather record a video
as you watch as I drown!
What morals do we uphold?
Babies in concentration camps,
The government doesn’t call them that..,
The refugees have no refuge
We refute their rights.
The existence of the indigent
causes an uproar, shelters
can only be housed in poverty
stricken zones plagued
with crimes. On 57th Street
people work too hard, the homeless
will depreciate the value of their skyscrapers
the sight out the window
Will be too dark.
And we depreciate life.
Who have we become?
Who do we care for?
Teenager years are now
forgone, cops shoot children
but keep their jobs.
Cops are scared and shoot too fast.
Priests **** boys but that’s fine
the churches are filled on Sundays
because, they still are the intercessors
between Men and God. So we have
a faithless generation that doesn’t
value life, they are desensitize,
let’s blame it on Hip-Hop,
yet, if you are not vanilla
your pride melts on sidewalks
and the sprinkles that were on
your chocolate are splattered
in concrete floors.
Who have we become,
Our cellphones are a weapons
Of mass destruction, that
that causes sleepless nights,
We rather record a shooting
than call 9-11.
We rather say “not my problem”
I’ll keep going my Merry way,
but Maria lost her son
because no one cared.
The animals are caged
with freedom they become enraged,
trying to find their way
YouTube becomes their only friend,
because in the sandbox of life they cannot play.
Who have we become?
The real criminals, work at the White house.
A suicide letter doesn’t alarm.
The alarm doesn’t sound off,
the notifications alert is off
While this video…I RECORD
This is the path of the walking dead,
that human connection
we traded for Facebook likes;
So **** happens all around us,
and they only way we think to help
is by pressing the recording button
that lets the world know, I was there.
LeydisProse
6/22/2018
https://m.facebook.com/LeydisProse//
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
Happiness is essential in life, we need it, happiness it needs to grow so feed it, happiness is wild and good so don't try to lead it, feel what it's like to just smile for a little while, feel the warm suns gentle touch, when your happy you really don't need much, you learn to appreciate, unable to depreciate, you just keep walkin' and talkin' like a snap of your fingers or a breath of fresh air, just slow down, smell the flowers, let the wind sweep through your hair, it really comes down to just not really givin' a care.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC