"disentanglement" poems
I dare you to close your legs, button up your shirt, fasten your bra, put a locker on that zip and see if they will stay,
the parting of your legs should not be the only conversation you are meant to have,
collecting your bra straps or looking for lost earrings on the floor should not be the only time they bend over for you,
as if the only time you deserve worship is only after you have screamed home coming in their ears.
The dimples on your thighs and the fabric of your hair should not be the only time they learn to pronounce your name,
there is more to remember of you than the scars you left on their backs,
that is not the only time you know how to hold on tight,
you have held graves on your wrinkled forehead from the day blood came gushing, unarmed for from your womanhood, a tragedy from which you are yet to recover,
you have held far more important things, far more important secrets, far more important names than the birthmarks under their arms,
there is more profundity and wisdom to your being, your family name, than the disentanglement of your lower lips and the ruin of your own flesh.
There is more to you than the wetness of your womanhood and your hardened *******
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 2:50 PM UTC
Why do I let you treat me more ****** up than I deserve?
I've been asked this time and again, and I wish had the nerve,
To say enough is enough like they all wish I would,
But there's a monster in me that needs to be treated like less than dirt,
It feeds off my misery and is only contented when I'm depressed,
Between the edge of sanity and insanity I must have confessed,
This to you at some point, and now it's like you get off on the fact,
That I won't walk away no matter how badly you act,
And yes, there is care and love underneath all of the self-torment,
But it's a twisted kind that feeds off of your dark sentiments,
It gets off when you ***** another chick and I take you back like that can undo,
All of the ******** I you continue to let you put me through ,
But if you loved me, you wouldn't hurt me over and over like you do,
Please can you let me go, or my mom will be burying another child, this I promise you,
You're the worst kind of drug, you don't just feed me with the all of the emotional highs,
But you also reinforce it with the sweetest of words that tell me what I am doing is right,
We've become too entwined in this entanglement,
So let's find a way to turn this into a disentanglement,
Because I tend to self-medicate with anything that's close enough to grab,
And you've quickly become my favorite crutch to lean upon when I'm in a jam,
It's not alright and it doesn't really work for either of us anymore,
It hasn't for awhile, and I've been tired of feeling like your secret *****
I see that whatever demon is eating you,
Likes feeding off of mine a little bit too much too,
And too long it's been draining me,
Do you not care what's you're doing, or too dumb to see?
Now I can only look up to the stars,
And wish on them so **** hard,
But they don't listen to me and neither do you,
So please let me go, or I'll be another grave in your rear view,
Another name to tattoo somewhere,
If you even care enough to dare,
You're the worst kind of drug, you don't just feed me with the all of the emotional highs,
But you also reinforce it with the sweetest of words that tell me what I am doing is right,
We've become too entwined in this entanglement,
So let's find a way to turn this into a disentanglement,
Oct 25, 2020
Oct 25, 2020 at 2:05 PM UTC
A man and a woman come across,
If the man displays his ability.......
Start the ideal circle of human life,
If woman takes interest in him......
They both woo & ****** each other,
If succeed they make happy love.....
That woman after getting pregnant,
Rolls back into herself till delivery....
Whenever a baby is born anywhere,
It grows up groomed by its parents...
As a baby it is so helpless on its own,
It generally makes a noise for itself..
Then the human becomes a little kid,
Innocence filled face looks so divine.
A teenager sprouts non-visible wings,
The human realizes that it's special..
Teenaged souls fly across all lines,
Disregarding any type of border...
Entangling cobwebs of this world,
Try to limit all the human souls....
Disentanglement is a taxing job,
Not all teenagers grow freely.....
They step into adulthood,
And often so maturely......
They just succeed in love,
Start circle yet again.......
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
.
*I cradle my head
in my palms
There's an inerasable vision
of hearts and bones
inwoven in a spider web
Untied forget-me-nots
writhing disentanglement
A collage of all the dead roses ,
tawny petals bestrewn across
a fallow frozen mind-scape ;
hidden behind eye-lid's
hesitantly arising curtain
just like a noir movie screen
I saw love disfigure me*
wild is the wind ... December 4th, 2016
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 2:11 PM UTC
You say you love me
Just not my choice
What I hear is
your ignorance
What I hear is
I love you,
all of you
Except the parts
I do not want to love
Except the parts
I refuse to acknowledge because
they do not fit my frame
of reality
Do you not see the importance
of this part of me?
I would not choose
a life of supposed immorality
contrary to a lifetime
of beliefs
causing turmoil and
inflicting pain on
the ones I love
I would not choose
this confliction of
body and mind
residing in a life
of constant discomfort
And yet
here I am
I endure the pain
of you rejecting
who I really am
of judgment cast
by churched minds
of sympathetic looks
saying Oh you poor,
lost soul
You poor, ignorant soul
You are blinded
by your unblinding truth
Refusing to accept
things that may fall
outside your preconceived box
structured by misinterpreted men
two thousand years ago
You can only see
through the cracks
of the wooden slats
A view not wide enough
to see the disentanglement
sgdexenre
s d xer
g en e
of ***
and gender
A view not wide enough
to see that a person
is not determined solely
by their given body
because bodies are temples
and temples need to be built
Temples need to be whole
inside and out
Temples need to be refined
after they are first built
Cut out rotting timber
Fortify with stronger rock
and carve on the outside
a reflection of the beauty
lying within
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 1:22 AM UTC
Why was I made to exist? To merely experience life through sorrowful eyes.
I drown so deep, I question all my feelings and try to make excuses as to why I feel a certain way.
Certain ways I don’t even understand.
If I was made to bring a revolution and change perception, then why should I **** myself just by doing so?
So empty and hollow, the wall has enclosed.
If I was born to be misunderstood, why is it so easy for me to understand and accept everyone else, even those who discredit me.
The voices in my twisted mind. Who are they? Are they real? Is it my intuition? Or is it intuition turned into nerve aching anxiety.
Writhing inside of me, eating every part of my disillusioned sanity.
If I seize to exist to help those who put me down and call me crazy, then why is it worth it?
If I could hang myself right now tight around the neck where I might snap my spine... why would it matter?
I’ve accepted being alone, being lonely is now contentment. Peace.
Drained by others negativity, pulling me down like strings by their problems.
If I was meant to show my true form, why is it that I live in different facades.
Questioning who I am every single ****** day.
I hear people constantly talk about me, in my mind.
Is it intuition? Or mere delusion.
I’m dead. Empty. My purpose in life is to physically die so I can finally go back to where I came from. Other dimensions where I truly belong.
Disentanglement, I lose myself in fear.
Aug 1, 2020
Aug 1, 2020 at 3:05 PM UTC
The ache of a bough,
bent brown furrows
of ellipsoid swirls--
coarsely carved disentanglement.
Rootedness pining after
uprootedness.
As a wind conversely
passes a bough for
proof of existence...
pining after rootedness.
Ache in tandem,
sounding.
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 9:55 PM UTC
How many colours fit in your hand?
Is this a question you'd understand?
How many palm trees obey your command?
Unless you are dreaming, I'd dare to say none.
How can a word go swimming in land?
That makes less sense than a musicless band.
Lightly drawn bridges, which taste naught but bland.
Don't trust your own words, unless they are fun.
A desert will bake you with deafening sand,
As much as a cloud will make you less tanned.
That's more than a cockroach could ever withstand.
The words on your tongue would melt in the sun.
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 6:49 AM UTC
stick to tree, marker lost
to the forest.
ariadne's spidery verve of
weave, threading cities lost
to their applied logic.
dense enough to entrap flies--
zigzagging against these
gordian knots.
her mind-eyed computer
graphics unable to simulate
disentanglement.
deep breathing for clearer
intuitions, ariadne breaks down
to the squeaky laughter of spiders.
who thread without threading--
feast on the dainty logician.
Mar 9, 2020
Mar 9, 2020 at 1:53 PM UTC