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"devaluation" poems
when i told my friend that my new boyfriend loved sports and going out; partying, being loud and obnoxious, she grimaced and said she didn't know why i even liked him. i got angry with her - why did she not trust my gut? i once told her that opposites attract, so we should be fine. we should have been. but then came the fighting over little things, then came the mutual devaluation of each other's interests, then came the nights spent on the couch instead of in bed,  his drinking. he would always take the books from my hands and throw them across the wall - ******** he called them. he'd always say i lived in my head, that i never gave him the attention he deserved, that he would take a ********** instead of me any time. and at some point, he had me loathing him more than i did myself. yet, at the same time, i still loved him. it was like an addiction - i knew he was bad for me, but i clung onto him like he was air and i couldn't breathe. there were nights when i really couldn't. sometimes it felt like he still loved me, too. when he came to the locked bathroom door and cried with me; apologizing over and over again. at those moments my love for him would crawl out of its cave - my heart - covered in blood, battered, bruised, but still standing. and it would hold him, whispering false truths in his ear. i would always forgive him, because opposites attract. it was just the way he was, he couldn't do anything about it. even if he could, i frequently thought i didn't want him to. not because i was content with his violent outbrusts and alcoholism, or what he put me through on a daily basis - no. because i loved him, regardless of all the pain he caused me. and love means to accept someone for who they are. but i came to realize that love is quite finite when all negative things seem infinite. i hated the way we were so different. where i would sit in one place for hours on end, he'd walk around clumsily, breaking things, screaming, slamming doors. he drove me mad. and, don't get me wrong, i am not a saint. i'm sure i did the same to him. maybe it's my fault that he turned out the way he did - perhaps if he had chosen to live with someone else, his smiles would still be kind rather than cruel. perhaps if i had changed for him - if i was more like him, we would have been okay. but my silence was deafening. i was convinced he didn't deserve to hear my voice. and he didn't, for days. sometimes he asked if i was pretending to be a ghost of what we used to be. i started questioning my previous way of thinking. do opposites really attract? and i came to a conclusion. they really do. opposites attract, but they are not always good for each other. i had to learn that the hard way. and just like a ghost, i faded. i left.
0
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 6:23 AM UTC
do opposites attract?
when i told my friend that my new boyfriend loved sports and going out; partying, being loud and obnoxious, she grimaced and said she didn't know why i even liked him. i got angry with her - why did she not trust my gut? i once told her that opposites attract, so we should be fine. we should have been. but then came the fighting over little things, then came the mutual devaluation of each other's interests, then came the nights spent on the couch instead of in bed,  his drinking. he would always take the books from my hands and throw them across the wall - ******** he called them. he'd always say i lived in my head, that i never gave him the attention he deserved, that he would take a ********** instead of me any time. and at some point, he had me loathing him more than i did myself. yet, at the same time, i still loved him. it was like an addiction - i knew he was bad for me, but i clung onto him like he was air and i couldn't breathe. there were nights when i really couldn't. sometimes it felt like he still loved me, too. when he came to the locked bathroom door and cried with me; apologizing over and over again. at those moments my love for him would crawl out of its cave - my heart - covered in blood, battered, bruised, but still standing. and it would hold him, whispering false truths in his ear. i would always forgive him, because opposites attract. it was just the way he was, he couldn't do anything about it. even if he could, i frequently thought i didn't want him to. not because i was content with his violent outbrusts and alcoholism, or what he put me through on a daily basis - no. because i loved him, regardless of all the pain he caused me. and love means to accept someone for who they are. but i came to realize that love is quite finite when all negative things seem infinite. i hated the way we were so different. where i would sit in one place for hours on end, he'd walk around clumsily, breaking things, screaming, slamming doors. he drove me mad. and, don't get me wrong, i am not a saint. i'm sure i did the same to him. maybe it's my fault that he turned out the way he did - perhaps if he had chosen to live with someone else, his smiles would still be kind rather than cruel. perhaps if i had changed for him - if i was more like him, we would have been okay. but my silence was deafening. i was convinced he didn't deserve to hear my voice. and he didn't, for days. sometimes he asked if i was pretending to be a ghost of what we used to be. i started questioning my previous way of thinking. do opposites really attract? and i came to a conclusion. they really do. opposites attract, but they are not always good for each other. i had to learn that the hard way. and just like a ghost, i faded. i left.
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11
Do you ever feel like a dust Drifting through wind Starting spear in others eyes. Do you ever feel like a paper thin One may use, another may throw Thinking about devaluation of your. Do you ever feel like steeped in misery trapped in a cagey But no one wants to hear a thing. Do you know that there's still a BEGINNING in you It's not and ending of you There's still glimmer in you. You have to ignite the light in you Let it shine Let your colors brust. Come on show them what your worth You need to slap them with your work BEGINNING is there in you so let it boom. You don't have to feel like you mean nothing to this mean world You are appealing creation of God You're original,cannot be replaced with others. After a hurricane, comes a hope You have to know what your future holds BEGINNING is your soul to reach your goal. Seeking for open door but gotta closed So that in search of open door leads you to the perfect road. Like a lightening of clouds, your heart will glow Wait for that flwaless time When it's time, you'll know.
0
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 11:04 AM UTC
Beginning
We need others to play with us to not feel isolation, We need to bring joy to others to feel elation, We crack like delicate porcelain then be viewed as a deformation, Our minds are more of an aberration, As we yearn for someone's admiration, We are viewed as objects by the nation, We strive to look different by modification, Ending up with falsification, With envious glares acting as devaluation, Although we are each marked by our own notation, We submit to society's suffocation, All in all we are the gods and demons dolls. Artificial, pretend and above all, just a recreation.
0
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
Humans are just like dolls
up on Boot Hill the sun sets early the soaked anguish of grieving mothers swaddled in twilight's vestments mourn the death of another murdered child we roll our eyes and speak in tongues tiny prayers incant RIP these reflexive bits, our shattered votives litter city boulevards on each solemn street corner new alters of desecration are erected then despoiled with the wasted wax of misspent novenas our extended families are bloodlines of fear spawning prostrate men tattooed with multicolored pain who refuse to cover body marks bespeaking epic tales of sorrow, divisions countless separations also marking righteous reasons of seething resentments eager to settle accounts sweet vendettas clever ambushes carefully deliberated for generations by discordant clans believing in malice exalting guns shared loss is our common affliction uniting everyone in envelopes of sadness becoming live Dear John letters bearing news of dearly departed loves atop the coffins of dead children votives pile high with scrawled eulogies of fevered graffiti solemnly pledging “gonna make someone suffer gonna even the score never forget you RIP” and we all die looking stupid as hell lamenting love don’t rest in peace hearing it scream from the grave witnessing the hallowed earth churning with revulsion accepting the bitter ashes of another dead child for the love of you is your funeral march love don’t RIP it stalks the tomb of indifference it mourns the ambivalence of its devaluation it haunts the day dreams of what could have been it restlessly flits among the playgrounds of our minds cluttering the rooms of our homes with grief up on Boot Hill we clasp the small hands protruding from shallow graves groping to find a graceful sleep for love don’t rest in peace Stevie Wonder: Love Is In Need of Love Today Written to honor Love Appreciation Day jbm Oakland 1/19/13
0
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
Love Don't Rest In Peace
up on Boot Hill the sun sets early the soaked anguish of grieving mothers swaddled in twilight's vestments mourn the death of another murdered child we roll our eyes and speak in tongues tiny prayers incant RIP these reflexive bits, our shattered votives litter city boulevards on each solemn street corner new alters of desecration are erected then despoiled with the wasted wax of misspent novenas our extended families are bloodlines of fear spawning prostrate men tattooed with multicolored pain who refuse to cover body marks bespeaking epic tales of sorrow, divisions countless separations also marking righteous reasons of seething resentments eager to settle accounts sweet vendettas clever ambushes carefully deliberated for generations by discordant clans believing in malice exalting guns shared loss is our common affliction uniting everyone in envelopes of sadness becoming live Dear John letters bearing news of dearly departed loves atop the coffins of dead children votives pile high with scrawled eulogies of fevered graffiti solemnly pledging “gonna make someone suffer gonna even the score never forget you RIP” and we all die looking stupid as hell lamenting love don’t rest in peace hearing it scream from the grave witnessing the hallowed earth churning with revulsion accepting the bitter ashes of another dead child for the love of you is your funeral march love don’t RIP it stalks the tomb of indifference it mourns the ambivalence of its devaluation it haunts the day dreams of what could have been it restlessly flits among the playgrounds of our minds cluttering the rooms of our homes with grief up on Boot Hill we clasp the small hands protruding from shallow graves groping to find a graceful sleep for love don’t rest in peace Stevie Wonder: Love Is In Need of Love Today Written to honor Love Appreciation Day jbm Oakland 1/19/13
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116
When this digital dark age passes and smartphone screens go dead we shall all return to vibrant life. We shall look up, toward vast horizons recalling dimly-lit square centimeters of data finger-scrolling our memories in the afterglow. We shall again behold the depth of sky from the mouths of our caves and pit-houses. We shall know the Creator as well as the Creation. We shall communicate once again.
0
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
Data Devaluation
AN: There are no errors. Every word, every space, everything is done on purpose. Call it creepy. Call it weird. Call it masochistic. I don’t care. You don’t know, you can’t fathom how it feels to see your blood well up fill the tiny little channels in your skin. Watch your skin turn red, then fade to pink, then finally to white. You don’t know how it feels to see your blood reach up toward the stars, dying white to red in a matter of seconds. You don’t know what it’s like to have your whole life hang in the balance of a pushed up sleeve. To harbor secrets so much darker than the darkest of guesses. You can’t know the feeling of a defaced cross forever imprinted in your skin when you press you arm against something flat. You can’t understand the easiness of a trance. The lack of thought, except maybe “look how pretty” or perhaps “Bleed, bleed, bleed!” You think you know the pressure of- not the blade, because that’s not all I use. More- sharp objects, but you don’t. You think it’s all emotional, bring mental pain to physical pain. or it’s a pathetic plea for attention. or it makes me feel better. or I want to fit in. or . or. or. All this psychological devaluation. It’s all wrong. Chemical imbalance? I guess we’ll never know. I’m sure as hell not getting tested. So you can throw me away and lock up the key- or is it the other way around? No, you’re out of your mind. You want to overanalyze me, over complicate me. It’s simple. I want to see myself bleed. I want to see what’s supposed to be on the inside on the outside. Why does there have to be more? Why do you have to blame my depression? or Mommy? or Daddy? Because that’s the most widely accepted excuse? Rather than the truth? Why would you rather believe lies? It shouldn’t be so hard to find a name for this. A name that doesn’t also apply to biological disorders. That’s not what this is. This is something solely in my brain. Neither nature nor nurture but a neurosis that simply is. I have a neutral relationship with my ‘disorder’. I don’t try to do away with it, and it doesn’t try to **** me. But you don’t believe that. It’s not healthy. It’s bad. You spout off meaningless factsstatistcs about suicides in my age group. How some -emotional!- cutters accidently go too far resulting in their death. SHUTUP! I know what you’re saying. I understand the statistics. I know why you’re concerned. I get it. But I’m ok. Honestly, I am. It may not seem like it, I know, but I swear it’s true. I’m ok with who I am. I have no shame. Really. You don’t know how this is. so just leave me alone and help someone who really needs it. Because I. Do. Not.
0
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 5:34 PM UTC
I Don't-No, You Don't
AN: There are no errors. Every word, every space, everything is done on purpose. Call it creepy. Call it weird. Call it masochistic. I don’t care. You don’t know, you can’t fathom how it feels to see your blood well up fill the tiny little channels in your skin. Watch your skin turn red, then fade to pink, then finally to white. You don’t know how it feels to see your blood reach up toward the stars, dying white to red in a matter of seconds. You don’t know what it’s like to have your whole life hang in the balance of a pushed up sleeve. To harbor secrets so much darker than the darkest of guesses. You can’t know the feeling of a defaced cross forever imprinted in your skin when you press you arm against something flat. You can’t understand the easiness of a trance. The lack of thought, except maybe “look how pretty” or perhaps “Bleed, bleed, bleed!” You think you know the pressure of- not the blade, because that’s not all I use. More- sharp objects, but you don’t. You think it’s all emotional, bring mental pain to physical pain. or it’s a pathetic plea for attention. or it makes me feel better. or I want to fit in. or . or. or. All this psychological devaluation. It’s all wrong. Chemical imbalance? I guess we’ll never know. I’m sure as hell not getting tested. So you can throw me away and lock up the key- or is it the other way around? No, you’re out of your mind. You want to overanalyze me, over complicate me. It’s simple. I want to see myself bleed. I want to see what’s supposed to be on the inside on the outside. Why does there have to be more? Why do you have to blame my depression? or Mommy? or Daddy? Because that’s the most widely accepted excuse? Rather than the truth? Why would you rather believe lies? It shouldn’t be so hard to find a name for this. A name that doesn’t also apply to biological disorders. That’s not what this is. This is something solely in my brain. Neither nature nor nurture but a neurosis that simply is. I have a neutral relationship with my ‘disorder’. I don’t try to do away with it, and it doesn’t try to **** me. But you don’t believe that. It’s not healthy. It’s bad. You spout off meaningless factsstatistcs about suicides in my age group. How some -emotional!- cutters accidently go too far resulting in their death. SHUTUP! I know what you’re saying. I understand the statistics. I know why you’re concerned. I get it. But I’m ok. Honestly, I am. It may not seem like it, I know, but I swear it’s true. I’m ok with who I am. I have no shame. Really. You don’t know how this is. so just leave me alone and help someone who really needs it. Because I. Do. Not.
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150
Grandiose curiosum Tittle-tattle tralala Association after association What has been and could have been And would have been and isn’t The fourth rack wrecks With rumours and whispers And dishonest lies But sell your soul for some sales And you’ll end up in an endless devaluation Of the moral And the valuable And decency and fact Between a cold Sun and a dead Star There is nothing worthy to Express
0
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 8:40 AM UTC
Tabloids
Appalled by the execution Of the implied devaluation Bringing down the hopeless rage Upon all those tainted by implication I stand in visible observation With no shield or aberration To lay blame for my inclination To find fault in your need for polarization No left or right or up down Flows in natural light through my being I am extant in my word and deed So blame yourself if you fail...in seeing That in the most unimagined Set of convoluted circumstances I am simply your own reflection...uninspired By your lack of need ..to learn by taking chances But even i will not follow you.... into The depths of your morbidity If you seek to drag along those poor lost sheep Into your hatred and fearmongering obscenity I stand ... For all...those ... who you knock down!
0
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 4:49 AM UTC
I Am Extant!
I am here where MANY have already been, How long will I linger Before I move on? Will I Move on? Growing Is hard Not growing harder, Especially, When there is a motivation, compulsion To Grow, Like The flowers and trees Defying gravity, Exercising Urge and belief In It's existence/ Their Existence, Thrusting itself Toward Heaven. But Still Treasuring This present earth And Cosmos! Devaluation
0
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 7:25 PM UTC
Untitled
it's longest chain to suit and unsuit game a blood is burning in my vein i climbing up on mountain top i scream, i win, but that is not enough you look at me with curved face devaluation any steps i am like Christmas tree on sunday market my branches was decorate by garland and everyone gives own price they look at me like at the Christmas tree
0
Nov 27, 2019
Nov 27, 2019 at 12:42 AM UTC
depressive christmas tree...