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"disservice" poems
Some truths are told in anger, Some truths are told in vain, Sometimes there’s value in candor, Sometimes truth just causes pain. Some truths told aren’t told on purpose, Some come out without consent, Some when told do a great disservice, No matter how honorable their intent. Some truths are never told, Away in drawers they’re kept, Things gilded still shine like lustrous gold, And dry are tears long wept. I once had a truth I tried to speak, But it was spoken by another prematurely, I saw it happen, my voice was weak, I handled it like a child and far too immaturely. What was exposed could not be taken back, It was a point of no return, I was indignant, it all turned black, I wanted the world to burn. And burn it did, But only mine, Down hard I slid, The real world was fine. With time gone by, I must admit a lesson I learned, The truth really does set you free, But to whom my truth concerned, I can only apologize, it should’ve come from me.
0
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC
Truth Hurts
Master, have mercy. I am Master. I Have no Master. The planet is atrocious. I am It. Planet Earth is atrocious. I am It. Why is it so hard to see be yond peace? Why is it so hard to be who you want? The mind, secluded in a prison rift of copy paste makes waste. Where is my paper? Where is my pen? I write for me! I repeat as if I will soon believe. I write for me! (logging on again) The planet is horrid. I am part of It. Oh, Peace & War, do we know it. Yet with an audience, my imagination grows stagnant. The once in abstract gathers into form. I did this misdeed. A disservice. Once a dreamer. Now a journalist.
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Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 12:36 AM UTC
Match & Pitch: One Dead Eye
The way he touched me when we first got serious was much different from how he touched me at the end of it all. His hands used to be soft and his eyes drank in every curve of my body, every freckle of my skin. He would look up at me like I was a new adventure, and I knew that this whole night of romance was for me- he wanted me to really feel how much he cherished me. I miss those days immensely. At the end his hands were much more rough, his eyes averted mine. He couldn't see me as a treasure- I was just flesh under his own. It became all about his lust, his desperateness to feel something real. And that night that held a surprise showing of grins and grimaces and a couple almost-kisses, it felt like home. I am terrified to remember that night because I realized something: His fingers grazed my skin like they did in the beginning, he looked at me like I was new. It's terrifying because the only thing holding me together is knowing that the boy I love is nothing like the boy I left. And now that I caught that glimpse, and now that I know he's exactly the same as he used to be, my head is spinning and my heart spasms in pain. I was wrong and there are no words to describe how sad that makes me. But I made the choice to walk away from the confusion for enough time to realize that I'm okay with being alone. And even if I were to find someone new, I would always feel like I was cheating, like anything I could ever feel for someone else would be a lie. And even if I were to be with him again, I would feel like I was doing him a disservice, like even if I was loving him, I still wouldn't be genuine enough to make him feel loved. I will always and forever feel like I am cheating on the man I love. And that's the price I will pay for the immense disservice I have already paid him.
0
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
I loved you then, I love you now
The way he touched me when we first got serious was much different from how he touched me at the end of it all. His hands used to be soft and his eyes drank in every curve of my body, every freckle of my skin. He would look up at me like I was a new adventure, and I knew that this whole night of romance was for me- he wanted me to really feel how much he cherished me. I miss those days immensely. At the end his hands were much more rough, his eyes averted mine. He couldn't see me as a treasure- I was just flesh under his own. It became all about his lust, his desperateness to feel something real. And that night that held a surprise showing of grins and grimaces and a couple almost-kisses, it felt like home. I am terrified to remember that night because I realized something: His fingers grazed my skin like they did in the beginning, he looked at me like I was new. It's terrifying because the only thing holding me together is knowing that the boy I love is nothing like the boy I left. And now that I caught that glimpse, and now that I know he's exactly the same as he used to be, my head is spinning and my heart spasms in pain. I was wrong and there are no words to describe how sad that makes me. But I made the choice to walk away from the confusion for enough time to realize that I'm okay with being alone. And even if I were to find someone new, I would always feel like I was cheating, like anything I could ever feel for someone else would be a lie. And even if I were to be with him again, I would feel like I was doing him a disservice, like even if I was loving him, I still wouldn't be genuine enough to make him feel loved. I will always and forever feel like I am cheating on the man I love. And that's the price I will pay for the immense disservice I have already paid him.
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67
***** you for calling our customer disservice hotline. Calls will be ordered in any manner we please. By proceeding you waive all rights to human kindness. We apologize for any convenience, and thank you for your impatience.
0
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
Customer Disservice Hotline
Me cheat?! Ha! I couldn't even cheat on an exam! (And I hate them) I don't believe that I ever could Out of Guilt, Love, Respect and disservice not only to you But to my own character (And that means everything to me)
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Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
Cheetah? You're a bit fast up!
O my sacred, Shower me with your greatness. Bring it up to my neck, And drown me in the lake bed. O how secret, and so delicate, Fear in trust involved. It's not a secret anyways, If nothing's getting solved. I love, I trust, I need you, In fear I live all time. My words in hope to mean them, So that you'll say "You're mine" O my sacred, Take myself and make it yours. This day is nothing to you, Your love fills my empty lake bed. A love, that's secrets tale, One month, forever it lasted. The tale of two, of many, At each other, love was blasted. No one way to say it right, Four ways to say I Love You. Just take me as I am, And know that I'm thinking of you. O my sacred, Unto you I do trust. No lake bed full of: doubt, anger, mistrust, jealousy, regret, pain, hurt, love, hate, lust, health, disease, space, time, pity, indulgence, sorrow, mourning, evil, distress, affliction, trouble, breaks, insignificance, remorse, agony, peril, skeptics, insecurities, uncertainty, question, suspicion, difficulty, dilemma, depression, belief, worry, conviction, cruelty, discredit, hesitation, unhappiness, calamity, travesty, grief, hardship, loss, suffering, weeping, sadness, heartache, lament, excruciation, torture, soreness, discomfort, penalty, torment, torture, harm, malicion, malevolence, prejudice ,detriment, disservice, misfortune, abuse, effort, labor, endeavor, strength, power, energy, operation, mistreat, undermining, blemish, flaw, disservance, misery, injury, exertion, struggle, trial, madness, wrath, rampage, harassment, irritation, exasperation, rage, tantrum, infuriation, mischief, inequality, alienation, aggravation, annoyance, contagion, trauma, damage, insults, violation, wrong, flesh, or **** ...ANYTHING between us, Vanquished because I must!
0
Oct 23, 2011
Oct 23, 2011 at 9:52 PM UTC
My Sacred
O my sacred, Shower me with your greatness. Bring it up to my neck, And drown me in the lake bed. O how secret, and so delicate, Fear in trust involved. It's not a secret anyways, If nothing's getting solved. I love, I trust, I need you, In fear I live all time. My words in hope to mean them, So that you'll say "You're mine" O my sacred, Take myself and make it yours. This day is nothing to you, Your love fills my empty lake bed. A love, that's secrets tale, One month, forever it lasted. The tale of two, of many, At each other, love was blasted. No one way to say it right, Four ways to say I Love You. Just take me as I am, And know that I'm thinking of you. O my sacred, Unto you I do trust. No lake bed full of: doubt, anger, mistrust, jealousy, regret, pain, hurt, love, hate, lust, health, disease, space, time, pity, indulgence, sorrow, mourning, evil, distress, affliction, trouble, breaks, insignificance, remorse, agony, peril, skeptics, insecurities, uncertainty, question, suspicion, difficulty, dilemma, depression, belief, worry, conviction, cruelty, discredit, hesitation, unhappiness, calamity, travesty, grief, hardship, loss, suffering, weeping, sadness, heartache, lament, excruciation, torture, soreness, discomfort, penalty, torment, torture, harm, malicion, malevolence, prejudice ,detriment, disservice, misfortune, abuse, effort, labor, endeavor, strength, power, energy, operation, mistreat, undermining, blemish, flaw, disservance, misery, injury, exertion, struggle, trial, madness, wrath, rampage, harassment, irritation, exasperation, rage, tantrum, infuriation, mischief, inequality, alienation, aggravation, annoyance, contagion, trauma, damage, insults, violation, wrong, flesh, or **** ...ANYTHING between us, Vanquished because I must!
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30
Reek havoc amongst yourself, watch it burn from the ashes of neglect- simmer like the silence inside your bones remember the things you chose not to say. As your blood boils to the surface reflect on why you're about to lose your sanity again. In the dark of the night- I sit on the roof watching passing cars like I'm the only one who pays attention to their breathing. I watch the sky and try to see the Earth spin try to make a musical instrument out of the wind I hear music in everything. Somewhere along the line it became the only safe haven so the blood that spills over and the ashes that fly away become not just a passing memory- they become a church choir for mistaken identity for the facade placed upon me that I eventually threw away. I remember hospital beds better than my own childhood and I think memory is the only game of russian roulette I have ever been good at- because either way I die. From the memories or the wounds it gives me on the inside either way it cripples me. Attachment is not my forte but it seems to linger on my mind like it's a bad dream I can't seem to shake. Independence has always been the way I grew- flourished under my own autonomy and patriarchy has always been the enemy- times like these I realize how genetics are strong how father and son can grow to become the same how times can change more things than they make consistent and how consistency is dynamic in this world where everyone is so static. I have become myself once again found the fleeting feeble female I was once was and grew her into something I liked better. Felt the indecision of discretion and watched as freedom became my second nature but now it is my sixth sense my conversation with the higher power the light at the end of this tunnel so use your words wisely- they can become a disservice to you and make you wander onto the edge of your own lips only to have someone else remove them with their kiss. Your mind is your own greatest magic trick- use it to your advantage.
0
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 9:28 AM UTC
Mind over matter- nothing else matters.
Reek havoc amongst yourself, watch it burn from the ashes of neglect- simmer like the silence inside your bones remember the things you chose not to say. As your blood boils to the surface reflect on why you're about to lose your sanity again. In the dark of the night- I sit on the roof watching passing cars like I'm the only one who pays attention to their breathing. I watch the sky and try to see the Earth spin try to make a musical instrument out of the wind I hear music in everything. Somewhere along the line it became the only safe haven so the blood that spills over and the ashes that fly away become not just a passing memory- they become a church choir for mistaken identity for the facade placed upon me that I eventually threw away. I remember hospital beds better than my own childhood and I think memory is the only game of russian roulette I have ever been good at- because either way I die. From the memories or the wounds it gives me on the inside either way it cripples me. Attachment is not my forte but it seems to linger on my mind like it's a bad dream I can't seem to shake. Independence has always been the way I grew- flourished under my own autonomy and patriarchy has always been the enemy- times like these I realize how genetics are strong how father and son can grow to become the same how times can change more things than they make consistent and how consistency is dynamic in this world where everyone is so static. I have become myself once again found the fleeting feeble female I was once was and grew her into something I liked better. Felt the indecision of discretion and watched as freedom became my second nature but now it is my sixth sense my conversation with the higher power the light at the end of this tunnel so use your words wisely- they can become a disservice to you and make you wander onto the edge of your own lips only to have someone else remove them with their kiss. Your mind is your own greatest magic trick- use it to your advantage.
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49
*I could compare envy to jealousy quite easily but that would be a disservice to envy Not to mention a disservice to jealousy. Jealousy and envy are two distinct emotions And two distinct sins but Envy is both malign and benign. Envy that most unhappy of the sins. And, unhappy I was watching you with her. Envious of her, because she got to touch you Kiss you, need you, love you. I wished misfortune on you every time I saw your joy in each other. I coveted you. I scarcely thought of anyone else. My unhappiness, envy, made me send ill will your way. Intensely petty thoughts of ill. So much it made me unhappy, and yet mattered nil. I'd rendered and reduced you to a possession MINE. Why her? Was I not merry and pretty enough? I desired you above all yet I was the one to fall from grace. I turned inward, into a covetous envious hag. I wanted to deprive you of her for you to see only me, irony. In Dante's Purgatory, the punishment for the envious is to have their eyes sewn shut with wire because they have gained sinful pleasure from seeing others brought low. The only one brought low was me. I gained no pleasure*
0
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
Invidia(Envy)
Let your Life be a sacred garden, planted with genuine, saintly seeds; properly nurturing your crop daily, yields blessings for personal needs. Begin with three rows of peas: “Peace” of mind, heart and soul, for it creates a basic foundation that leaves you healthy and whole. Next plant four rows of squash: ”Squash” vain gossip, indifference, grumbling and unwelcome selfishness to reap real, spiritual brilliance. Add four generous rows of lettuce: ”Let us” be kind, walk in His Love, faithful, and patient with each other- being reflective of the Kingdom above. Follow with three rows of turnips: “Turn up” for meetings, service and to regularly help one another. Not to do so, would be a disservice. Finally, plant three rows of thyme: ”Time” for family, friends and others- seeing that we’re really related through our humanity, as sisters and brothers. Sow your seeds often; water with patience; prune and cultivate them with His goodwill. By transforming into a master gardener, the desired results, you’ll… eventually see! . . . Author Notes Inspired by: 2 Cor 9:6-7; Hos 10:12; Gal 6:7; Luke 6:38 and the anonymous “Planter’s Guide”. Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.
0
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 7:25 AM UTC
Poem: Saintly Seeds
We live in the unlighted state of America Where what happens when we turn the lights off Is dealt with darkness And matters of delicate touch Are treated with sharpness When our only language Is to inflict anguish We cut connections in the bedroom To clear our cynical head room For contempt and judgement People looking for a feeling to fall into Or a reason to live Must face frigid climates When the public invades privacy And ill fated ****** exploits Pervade salacious tabloids Our ****** regrets Cut the deepest Society reaps them Sowing us together with resentment We provide each other with relief But not the relief we're looking for We give each other hours of relief Until those useless hours become days And those fruitless days become years That engender endless tears As it remains warm in our car But the winter outside freezes anything that breaks the plane And our air conditioning only helps so much When the spinning wheels are in our faces There is a national coverage in the media That presents a bleak picture of the ****** health of America I feel I sit somewhere in between *** offenders and a disgusted public When I observe the observers Who are too scared shitless to ever face their own emotions Judge those for overindulging in their emotions They lived their life in fear and safety So they could be the righteous ones To admonish the risk takers and mistake makers Yet they are of the least value to humanity They're the people who grade all your answers as incorrect Without providing their perfect alternatives While trying to erase the context Because of what the context has to say about society People feeling that they can never be emotionally vulnerable Until they experience sheer desperation And no dollar contract Can replace human contact Yet we give men so much money and power And ask them to feel fine in our cold shower Until we are soiled by their intention A nation committed to selling Stella Artois A nation full of Blanche DuBois Humanity folds in on itself When we attack with *** Humanity does itself a disservice By not trying to understand these attacks honestly We forsake forgiveness And embrace desperation Until we become unbearably desperate For attention For approval For ****** contact For money For validation And sometimes our desperate desires become tangled I'd like to think of that as love And not a meeting between two practical rapists That conjoin in the middle Yet somehow come out distorted on the other side
0
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 4:55 AM UTC
Blanche DuBois
We live in the unlighted state of America Where what happens when we turn the lights off Is dealt with darkness And matters of delicate touch Are treated with sharpness When our only language Is to inflict anguish We cut connections in the bedroom To clear our cynical head room For contempt and judgement People looking for a feeling to fall into Or a reason to live Must face frigid climates When the public invades privacy And ill fated ****** exploits Pervade salacious tabloids Our ****** regrets Cut the deepest Society reaps them Sowing us together with resentment We provide each other with relief But not the relief we're looking for We give each other hours of relief Until those useless hours become days And those fruitless days become years That engender endless tears As it remains warm in our car But the winter outside freezes anything that breaks the plane And our air conditioning only helps so much When the spinning wheels are in our faces There is a national coverage in the media That presents a bleak picture of the ****** health of America I feel I sit somewhere in between *** offenders and a disgusted public When I observe the observers Who are too scared shitless to ever face their own emotions Judge those for overindulging in their emotions They lived their life in fear and safety So they could be the righteous ones To admonish the risk takers and mistake makers Yet they are of the least value to humanity They're the people who grade all your answers as incorrect Without providing their perfect alternatives While trying to erase the context Because of what the context has to say about society People feeling that they can never be emotionally vulnerable Until they experience sheer desperation And no dollar contract Can replace human contact Yet we give men so much money and power And ask them to feel fine in our cold shower Until we are soiled by their intention A nation committed to selling Stella Artois A nation full of Blanche DuBois Humanity folds in on itself When we attack with *** Humanity does itself a disservice By not trying to understand these attacks honestly We forsake forgiveness And embrace desperation Until we become unbearably desperate For attention For approval For ****** contact For money For validation And sometimes our desperate desires become tangled I'd like to think of that as love And not a meeting between two practical rapists That conjoin in the middle Yet somehow come out distorted on the other side
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71
These ides have kept me thus far Sustained, am I, eternal By their food of self-sacrifice The jester’s tasty wine Imbibing insults wrought by fool’ry Again, reciting the dirge for pride But the ides have kept me thus far. Despite the ru’nation Hoist! Ye ru’nous hands My repute in mortification A fool by their and my demands I see my shame, long shadow cast In light of sobriety Ignominy and truth of me Divorc’d n’er they be Still taste of cheap liquors, distilled society But the ides have kept me thus far. Full knowledge, have I The disservice I do Only time will heal the wound To shy away, acceptance is A lovely balm on par My image in tatters, though brazen I be The ides have kept me thus far Let them laugh, for I know they do Not to me, but within and among I am your entertainment The source of all your jeers My life, a blund’ring show I am an actor, my blight for years A part to play, it’s pleasing though To thrive upon your mocking and time Comforting knowledge, that A fixture, am I, your Thalia The ides have kept me thus far Erected austerity, enigmatic walls Fortifications around me Charged to keep the chaos in My heart, it truly calls I am not so noble As the sun will attest Know me as the ascetic, See the shrieking eccentric, Know me as the philosopher See my wit pathetic, Know what is outside is purely for show See that is internalized, is So ********* antithetic Each and every time I hide my face in shame My pride and my name, my actions did thus mar But I will heal, I always do The ides have kept me thus far This is my mantra, an empty cadence A mist to latch on to With every refrain of wretched debauchery Each weekend played anew Though I stay to bear the howl Of my dissonant, ugly hymn I listen to the hardened ones Their failures but a din I wish to change the thing I am At least to those who know I’ve heaved the chance to the icy mar Onto the cracking floe I feel the daggers of humiliation Plucking at each stitch I’ll just smile as though I like it For in effect I do But it’s becoming unbearable The walls beginning to bow Imperceptible, if my resolve she lasts Though this is nothing new But I’ll just grin and carry on, for The ides have kept me hitherto.
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Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 8:45 AM UTC
These Ides have kept Me Thus Far
These ides have kept me thus far Sustained, am I, eternal By their food of self-sacrifice The jester’s tasty wine Imbibing insults wrought by fool’ry Again, reciting the dirge for pride But the ides have kept me thus far. Despite the ru’nation Hoist! Ye ru’nous hands My repute in mortification A fool by their and my demands I see my shame, long shadow cast In light of sobriety Ignominy and truth of me Divorc’d n’er they be Still taste of cheap liquors, distilled society But the ides have kept me thus far. Full knowledge, have I The disservice I do Only time will heal the wound To shy away, acceptance is A lovely balm on par My image in tatters, though brazen I be The ides have kept me thus far Let them laugh, for I know they do Not to me, but within and among I am your entertainment The source of all your jeers My life, a blund’ring show I am an actor, my blight for years A part to play, it’s pleasing though To thrive upon your mocking and time Comforting knowledge, that A fixture, am I, your Thalia The ides have kept me thus far Erected austerity, enigmatic walls Fortifications around me Charged to keep the chaos in My heart, it truly calls I am not so noble As the sun will attest Know me as the ascetic, See the shrieking eccentric, Know me as the philosopher See my wit pathetic, Know what is outside is purely for show See that is internalized, is So ********* antithetic Each and every time I hide my face in shame My pride and my name, my actions did thus mar But I will heal, I always do The ides have kept me thus far This is my mantra, an empty cadence A mist to latch on to With every refrain of wretched debauchery Each weekend played anew Though I stay to bear the howl Of my dissonant, ugly hymn I listen to the hardened ones Their failures but a din I wish to change the thing I am At least to those who know I’ve heaved the chance to the icy mar Onto the cracking floe I feel the daggers of humiliation Plucking at each stitch I’ll just smile as though I like it For in effect I do But it’s becoming unbearable The walls beginning to bow Imperceptible, if my resolve she lasts Though this is nothing new But I’ll just grin and carry on, for The ides have kept me hitherto.
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75
I keep getting this urge To tell strangers How you used to bring a can of Chef Boyardee To school for lunch everyday. Or how I used to collect Plastic Hello Kitty cupcake rings And give them to you Just to see you smile. I would laugh as you ate it cold, plastic fork suspended straight from the can. I would smile with you, and hope you didn't realize I ate all those cupcakes by myself. I want to share you with the world Take your memory with me in my pockets Spill it out with my tongue I want to share you with the world, Introduce you to people you will never meet Tell people about you Because they will never get the chance To get to know you like I did Like we all did. But when you took your life, You did the world a disservice You took away the world's chance to find you So you could find yourself You took away your opportunities To change To get better To grow To love And be loved How we loved You. Your smile Your eyes Your soul All so bright Like stars in sky Stars that you snuffed out Stars that we can't gaze at anymore. Your constellation is lost Just a fairytale now But a favorite amongst us all
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Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
Kiana
Customer service you say I look at things a different way Especially after spending half my day Trying to get things resolved Testing my patience and nerves Been on hold for God only knows how long Trying to stay strong Please hold your call is important you first said that 5 hours ago I hate being bounced around to different departments and then put on hold again I am not a bouncy ball I am wondering if I could talk to a guy named Paul instead of people who's names I gave up trying to pronounce 2 hours ago You say to make a selection, but there is not a valid choice listed If I press sales, will I get a person to talk to then? If they think they can sell me something my call might be important then, especially if they get a commission If I have to take much more of this, do I have permission to Scream I feel like I'm stuck in a bad dream My patience is getting thinner and my hair too I pulled some out while I bit my tongue I did not want to say things I might later regret I want to say one thing if I may speak my mind I gave your customer service a new name It is Customer Disservice
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Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
Customer Service
The idolization of an individual Is a form of dehumanization It places an insurmountable pressure To live up to an expectation And disregards the downfalls and limitations That make us all human So anything but perfection is not permitted The static perception of an individual In itself Is a form of dehumanization As time moves along and changes So do humans We evolve and grow But to place the identity Of who someone was Ten years ago One year ago Six months ago Onto the current version of who you see Is a form of dehumanization To not acknowledge the change And to stay static in your perception Is a disservice Not only to the other But to yourself as well Because your perception of others Is a mirror for one’s inner judgement Of the self
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Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 11:35 PM UTC
the lesser known forms of dehumanization
I am not a dumb girl. I will never be a dumb girl. In fact, I don't think there's even such thing as a dumb girl, just girls pretending to be dumb. Pretending because they were told that boys don't like girls that are "too smart" or who use big words to explain complex ideas. No, boys like "pretty girls". So that's what girls do, they focus on becoming pretty. They focus more on their hair and makeup than they do on their potential and aspirations. They foster a diverse nail polish collection rather than a diverse worldview. And I am not one of these girls. I embrace my feminist, but not at the cost of my intellect. I make room for my makeup addiction, but I'll never use that makeup to cover up my brilliance. Yes, I like to be noticed for being pretty, but more than that I like to be noticed for my intelligence. I have a fire in my should that could burn down cities, and a kindness that could rebuild nations. So do you. We all do. We all have a greatness inside of us waiting to be released. To stifle that greatness is an immense injustice. To dumb yourself down, or expect someone to dumb themself down to protect your ego, is an enormous disservice to the world. So girls, don't simplify yourselves to being merely pretty, be great. And boys, don't expect us to be pretty, expect us to push you to be greater than you already are. Never accept the role of a "dumb girl", and never perpetuate it.
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Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 1:29 PM UTC
"Dumb Girls"
I don't think my poetry serves you justice; if anything, it's a disservice and I'll never be able to pen something that will have as much significance as your stride in a busy city street, or the way you can love me, even when I don't deserve it.
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Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 10:52 AM UTC
poetic justice
To the English-speaking people of earth: When you speak of new year's, do not mention resolutions. We need to make up our **** minds about what we want: a beginning, or an end? How can something you just started be resolved already? I know it's all in the wording, that it's YOUR resolve as a person we're talking about, but I think we're doing ourselves a disservice with this syntax. I have no resolutions for this new year. My resolutions are gone, done with, vanished, they have already passed into the great and vast "past". You can have my resolutions. As for me I'll hang onto my goals, my wishes, my aspirations for what this next cycle of days and weeks and months will bring.
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Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC
On new year's resolutions
Anxiety is funny, if I’m going to be honest. Because you work so hard to not focus on whatever causes your anxiety that in the end, you’re really doing yourself a disservice. You end up focusing more on the anxiety- or it’s cause- that it’s counterproductive. And none of the tips you find online really help so you try to find your own methods, but let’s be honest. The only way it’s stops is if you have someone say “it’s okay”. And then you feel like you’re just annoying the person by having the same worries over and over and over again. So you, again, start trying to find your own methods. And again, you realize that it’s the outsider comfort that really helps. And then you start to feel helpless because you feel you’re becoming too dependent on the person, and you have no idea how long your anxiety is going to go on for. And then, five minutes later, you calm down and think “what a silly thing to be worried about”. And that’s when you know you have a problem- because if it was something that warranted worry, it would start the cycle again.
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May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 2:21 PM UTC
thoughts (II)
Whirlwind romances only mean subsequent tepidity No flames, no anxious vomiting A disservice to beautiful women who deserve to be worshiped, Adored as goddesses, Instead relegated to convenient ***** and Netflix nights Lies will be drawn, "She's just not the one" But I'm the culprit A coward, a fool, And I am sorry
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Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 4:35 PM UTC
Whirlwind
The problem is not with the problem, It’s that you don’t listen. The issue is with the wound I carry It is the neglect and egotistical dissipation The ignorance and obscure character disposition It is in your complacency and self-righteousness I AM YOU INNER CHILD, CAN YOU HEAR ME? Or have you grown too macho to surrender to your sensitivity How many times I’ve cried, waiting for your attention How many times you have been of disservice, I have evolved into a numb and heartless rock I no longer have the frivolity and freewill to levitate It is I who chokes your rhythm when you hesitate It is me taking a cold shower when you are embarrassed The breath of you takes away my reasons to live I AM YOUR INNER CHILD, CAN YOU HEAR ME? No? But I have so much to say I have been wearing this forlorn contusion Even when I talk it is not a discussion You have marred me to become bitter and resentful Gone is your passion, you are submerged in your job Gone are your dreams, you have focused on that promotion Love has been jaded by your promiscuity What happened to loving one person in a million ways? You are a servant of the social mirror and its constraining chains Dancing to the dictatorial piano that plays and plays Where models are defined you are a written face The beats come together picturesque but grotesque For you are more about maintaining the picture on display What is in your heart has bowed to despair I AM YOUR INNER CHILD, CAN YOU NOT HEAR ME? I am drenched by the sweat of your incessant grind for material Can you not understand that this has left me hysterical? Surrealism suggests that as partners we should yearn for the ethereal Free me from child abuse Free me from bad news Free me that I can choose Free me that we can fuse Free me to sign a treatise of truce So I can be the inner child you love and don’t confuse So that we can be free to try new things So that we can rise above dogma and play strings So that we can ride the giant phoenix, on its soft merriment wings …. And I will be the child in whom you confide and pay mind and find signs of truth in our stride, we won’t hide for we won’t be blind but kind in humility like we never lied and be free from the twigs that had us tied to a tree of no-open-mind and one we’ll be in time… I the child in whom you confide to find the prize of life.
0
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC
Nobody listens to The Child
The problem is not with the problem, It’s that you don’t listen. The issue is with the wound I carry It is the neglect and egotistical dissipation The ignorance and obscure character disposition It is in your complacency and self-righteousness I AM YOU INNER CHILD, CAN YOU HEAR ME? Or have you grown too macho to surrender to your sensitivity How many times I’ve cried, waiting for your attention How many times you have been of disservice, I have evolved into a numb and heartless rock I no longer have the frivolity and freewill to levitate It is I who chokes your rhythm when you hesitate It is me taking a cold shower when you are embarrassed The breath of you takes away my reasons to live I AM YOUR INNER CHILD, CAN YOU HEAR ME? No? But I have so much to say I have been wearing this forlorn contusion Even when I talk it is not a discussion You have marred me to become bitter and resentful Gone is your passion, you are submerged in your job Gone are your dreams, you have focused on that promotion Love has been jaded by your promiscuity What happened to loving one person in a million ways? You are a servant of the social mirror and its constraining chains Dancing to the dictatorial piano that plays and plays Where models are defined you are a written face The beats come together picturesque but grotesque For you are more about maintaining the picture on display What is in your heart has bowed to despair I AM YOUR INNER CHILD, CAN YOU NOT HEAR ME? I am drenched by the sweat of your incessant grind for material Can you not understand that this has left me hysterical? Surrealism suggests that as partners we should yearn for the ethereal Free me from child abuse Free me from bad news Free me that I can choose Free me that we can fuse Free me to sign a treatise of truce So I can be the inner child you love and don’t confuse So that we can be free to try new things So that we can rise above dogma and play strings So that we can ride the giant phoenix, on its soft merriment wings …. And I will be the child in whom you confide and pay mind and find signs of truth in our stride, we won’t hide for we won’t be blind but kind in humility like we never lied and be free from the twigs that had us tied to a tree of no-open-mind and one we’ll be in time… I the child in whom you confide to find the prize of life.
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44
Life is  an  amazingly  wonderful   maze,  when   you  t h i n k  about it. You                                  start   at  the  entrance  n a i v e   and  unaware of what lies within.         It's  easy to c h e a t in this maze, if  you choose to walk the e d g e          until  you  get to the  end,  but h o n e s t l y it's more exciting  just          to  j u m p right  in.  Sure,  you   may  run  into dead ends                        every   once in awhile,  e v e r y o n e  has  their dead ends, but it's           easy  for  you to  turn back around, r e t r a c e your steps and go                             on.   At    times,   the   maze   makes you   want  to  pull   your  hair        out,  but   for   the  most   part,  you respect  the  challenge    that it        offers you.You begin to  r e a l i z e that l i f e                                            isn't  about   finishing  the   m a z e           it's  about        the path you take to get there. It's  about  The  t h i n g s you do on       your way  there. It's about all  of the amazing  p e o p l e   you  meet       while you're travelling.  I think people   forget   that quite a   bit,   so       the next time you see someone racing through their maze trying   as       hard as they can to reach the end, remind them that  they are    only       doing  themselves  a  disservice.   Remind  them that  l i f e is      what       make of it                   You
0
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 8:07 PM UTC
Mazes
Life is  an  amazingly  wonderful   maze,  when   you  t h i n k  about it. You                                  start   at  the  entrance  n a i v e   and  unaware of what lies within.         It's  easy to c h e a t in this maze, if  you choose to walk the e d g e          until  you  get to the  end,  but h o n e s t l y it's more exciting  just          to  j u m p right  in.  Sure,  you   may  run  into dead ends                        every   once in awhile,  e v e r y o n e  has  their dead ends, but it's           easy  for  you to  turn back around, r e t r a c e your steps and go                             on.   At    times,   the   maze   makes you   want  to  pull   your  hair        out,  but   for   the  most   part,  you respect  the  challenge    that it        offers you.You begin to  r e a l i z e that l i f e                                            isn't  about   finishing  the   m a z e           it's  about        the path you take to get there. It's  about  The  t h i n g s you do on       your way  there. It's about all  of the amazing  p e o p l e   you  meet       while you're travelling.  I think people   forget   that quite a   bit,   so       the next time you see someone racing through their maze trying   as       hard as they can to reach the end, remind them that  they are    only       doing  themselves  a  disservice.   Remind  them that  l i f e is      what       make of it                   You
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19
I’ve once heard musings Of recitation reflecting an area Of negligence that should Never go forsaken. Now, it is through my dismay Which triggers my optimism To lead me to believe this Recapitulation has been Extricated through a Satirical voice. However, in the event That theses musings are In fact, coming from A discernible veracity, Then I have done to you The gravest disservice I would never Dream to impart. Allow this to act as my Expression of regret In this particular field Of verbal lavishing. Before the moment You were my salacious secret And preliminary to my yearning For parallel mutual devotion My capabilities of a Tactile sense of normality Were fleeting Forever consigned to oblivion Until the moment I Allowed the craving to coalesce With the collective. It was then that I realized The stimulus of my exuberance Was not a self-fulfilling prophecy. Rather, one brought on When we lay entwined Within one another. Further musings have been vocalized, Drawing sight upon the fact I am twenty-one grams lighter Than the commune. Albeit, these musings have Been satirical in merit, The inherent truth Is not controvertible. Thus was the preceding case To our amalgamation. You are the sole vindication I have a soul. If there has ever Been inequity In my necessity to Opulent you with My own verbal musings I do hope this Can act as verbatim If there should be Any negligence within This particular field of Expertise.
0
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 10:28 AM UTC
Secret no more (Secret 2)
Slowly, Take one, Take another, Take ten million, Just breathe. There's a world of creativity, Growing within the confines, Of your critical veins, And to slice those of which, House the very essence of yourself, Is a disservice to your being. Slowly, Take one, Take another, Take enough, Just breathe. You have purpose, That seeps through the, Light you bring to the room, When you laugh. And to silence that, Is to **** your soul. Slowly, Take one, Take another, Take them all, Just breathe, Sweetheart, you deserve it.
0
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC
Breathing Exercises
To the lover I've never met I can't imagine how beautiful you are Because to put you within the limits of my mind would be to dishonour you Yet I imagine you as glorious as the sun as graceful as the skies by day as precious as the air I breathe as peaceful as streams of living water Dear darling If only you knew How I yearn to behold your light to see the warmth of your countenance to see the only curve I'd ever need which is your smile To look upon you and say Darling You are beautiful Just the way you are Yet I can't imagine How beautiful you really are; I can only dream so much and I, not wanting to do you disservice. For the lover I've never met: when we do meet we shall share in the warmth of an embrace And I shall realise such a beauty I have yet to behold.
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Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 8:06 AM UTC
To the lover I've never met.
In the innocence of who we are We seek out the truth in those around us Trusting and believing That we will find in them The very same truths that are evident in our lives In doing that...we do them such a disservice We have in fact set them up for immediate failure Because we have set the bar by our own standards And not taken into account...their life experiences And how those very experiences Have shaped them in the very person that they are Moral of the story... Always take the time to really get to know someone Before you label them as odd...or different...or just not "up to par" Truth be known...you really have not idea at all The life experiences that they have had to endure We are each different...in so many ways And it is those very differences that make up our individuality Special...unique...and yes...sometimes a little odd But...always...always...always...BEAUTIFUL. Kristy Turnage 4-6-09
0
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 3:37 PM UTC
Beautiful