"distort" poems
As you paint a silent picture
With you inner feelings
Take care of your emotions
So not to distort the painting
And smudge with arrogance
Creating an antithesis
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 12:08 AM UTC
depression depression depression
Stop it.
Leave.
I is me and
you are you.
Seperate from identity
yet your lies root to my core.
I can't help but listen as
gravity gradually seems heavier
and
heavier.
You can feed on me
that's fine.
Distort my reality
and take my smile.
But you will never take my hope.
The endless source behind the
Truth
Of my soul.
You'll never cease the
I in me.
So form each woe,
but forever is my soul.
Endureth this universe.
Go ahead.
Take me.
depression depression depression
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 8:56 AM UTC
I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because the last time I opened up to someone artistically they told me it was pretty dark and I should keep it to myself.
I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because I was raised in a culture that was anti love and pro meaningless *** I saw endless commercials about movies that glamorize a lifestyle in which your body is fulfilled but your heart is ignored and at that impressionable age I learned my heart came second but my allure came first and the less I cared that happier I would be and I carried that belief around with me the way I used to carry around a Bible as a child.
I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because of the time that I opened my father’s phone to reveal a family secret I would hold to this day against my own moral instincts unraveling miles of insecurities wondering if I’m not a good enough daughter or if he stopped loving my mother or if true love was never real and although I had been taught marriage was my purpose, it was what I believed would make me happy, maybe rings aren’t enough to stay in love and maybe people’s feelings change and maybe no one actually has a “one true love” and that this purpose I had been taught was really an endless wild goose chase that only lead to broken families and lost souls.
I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because sometimes I still wonder why I fell into an abyss of toxicity at such a young age. And when I say wonder I don’t mean a trivial ponder, I mean I contemplate every possible reason why the person who I once believed held the universe in her eyes would lie to my face, why she never kissed me in public and our love was always a secret, why she valued girls with blue hair but my blonde hair was not good enough, why I had to hide bruises from my family when I was still in high school or more importantly, why at the time, I thought I deserved them. These thoughts, this lingering paranoia that I am undeserving of healthy love, they muddy my interpretations of real life and distort reality and effect my relationships. My doctor would call these intrusive thoughts, my best friend would tell me they’re symptoms of PTSD, but I have come to realize that I’ve been burned and I am damaged and I hope to god I can recover.
But you,
Oh god, you
You can write this poem. You can be my safety net while I’m free falling in love. You can be the one to listen to my mental tilt-a-whirls, you can be the one that introduces my body and my heart, you can be the one that calms the storms in my mind when I’m questioning the love I’m deserving of. You are the one who makes sure I fall asleep in my bed after drunk nights, you are the one that still sees my value after acknowledging my flaws.
You can write this poem.
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 12:33 AM UTC
Warning: Use dis list in context.
You decide on which side you fall.
disappear
disregard
disaster
displace
disqualify
disrepair
disturb
dissipate
disability
dispose
dismal
distribute
distrust
disturb
discriminate
discuss
disdain
disguise
dishearten
disinherit
disown
disparage
disagree
disgruntle
disclose
discolour
dispute
disarm
discover
disassemble
disadvantage
disallow
dispossess
discontent
discontinue
disrespect
disincline
discomfort
disrepute
dishonest
disillusion
dishonor
dismiss
disobey
disjoin
disappoint
discipline
discord
discern
discrete
disfigure
disconnect
disapprove
discharge
disbar
disease
discord
disfavor
disengage
disassociate
discipline
discount
disembody
displace
dissaray
disembowel
discombobulate
discredit
discourse
disentangle
disenfranchise
disembark
discard
disburse
disbelief
discover
disable
disagree
disintegrate
dismay
dispense
dislodge
disclaimer
disapprove
dissatisfy
disrupt
dispel
dislike
dismantle
disloyal
disbatch
disrobe
disperse
display
disaprove
disciple
disavow
disconcert
disinfect
disorder
dismal
dismember
displease
dissemble
disunity
dislocate
distort
distrust
distress
dissolute
disassociate
distill
discect (?)
distemper
distain
distasteful
distraught
dissolve
dissonant
dissuade
And dis isn't de end.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC
someone once told me
you never forget your first love
you always love them
maybe in some strange twisted way
your brain forgetting
all the pain they caused
you love them
and i think they were right
because in a way
i love you
and i think i always will
for some nonsensical reason
i will never see the world
the same because of you
and sometimes i wish
i could change that
erase you from my thoughts
as you distort them
with your unwavering power
but then i remember
i wouldn’t want it any other way
you have shaped me
into the person i am today
and because of that
and i wouldn’t change a thing
- i'll never forget you
Oct 12, 2019
Oct 12, 2019 at 1:52 AM UTC
Looking back, memories distort.
Replace damaged nodes with something similar
Perhaps reconstructed
From previous set-up before
X and Y parameters Report
Step One:
Check patient notes to self
Re-calculate from de-constructed
Inject imagination
Respect self-defence mechanism
or immediate virus node termination
(a response attack organism)
Re-calibrate instruments awareness
Strip upgrade
Love version 4.1
Reboot only in emergency
Refer to install options
Error:
Temporal Lobe Anomaly
Virus detected
Internal nodes infected
Import Rejection version 3.2
and couple with
Lets Be Friends upgrade 1
(Advanced program)
Monitor assimilation
Danger!
Overheated components -
Re-inject Memory Node
Objective Hindsight applet.
Refer to Step One
It is now safe to shut down
Should you wish to.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 8:09 AM UTC
Wide eyes plead, tell me you love me,
Little hands held out,
Can you show me the way?
Before the serpent whispers,
Before hands and words can distort,
Fully dependent, an unbroken dreamer, A heart wide open.
Little heart full of love,
Little mind,unashamed.
I wish you could stay, little one.
To never know life's sting,
Never know how much it hurts.
Will you find the Sun, in this dark, cold place?
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
My love for you
Can not prosper
Without a love for me.
What's left in me
Is cold and dark
And it rests in my heart.
It influences my actions
It influences my choices
And blindly steals my happiness
From right in front of me
Leaving me hopeless.
What have I done
To deserve this madness?
I've let evil distort my view
Of love
And I view that evil
As a knife
That I have turned upon myself
If I have gone crazy
That is for you to decide.
I give you my wrongs
Because I can no longer hide
So this is my heartbreak suicide.
I've ****** up
With all the women I've met.
Either I cheated, lied
Or left.
Now I am alone and stressed
Hurt and depressed
Because it's like
I ripped my ****** heart
Right out of my chest.
Yeah, these are
My heartbreak suicides
And how I've killed myself
On the inside.
Because love is blind
And I've been chasing
That blind ************
For some time.
With this gaping cavity
In my chest
Stumbling over lust
And wasting time.
Losing my ****** mind
More and more each time.
Love is suppose to be
Patient.
Love is suppose to be
Kind.
What they didn't tell us
Is that love is
Transparent.
When we chase and search
It only leaves us more hurt.
We fall and refuse to get up
And we forget our self worth.
Committing atrocities to
Feel less hurt.
When in reality
Each atrocious act
Has only set us back.
What do we do?
Do we keep up the pursuit?
Of something we can only feel
And only look through?
Or do we wait?
Until it unexpectedly drops on us
And make our souls shake.
I guess I should go with the latter
Because I'm tired of feeling
Bruised and battered.
I've made the choices
That have led me here
And my heart is shattered
From the falls.
I am reaching in
And pulling out the fragments.
Piecing it back together
With no sadness.
Praying to God that he never again
Let this happen.
Who am I to decide
If I've lost my mind.
I'm just not accustomed
To change and what comes with time.
I've set my anger loose on the inside
And this is my
Heartbreak suicide.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 1:38 PM UTC
I've lived the kind of pain they write about
In the tales of heroes,
who came and went without
Salvation or celebration; and,
instead, became close friends of doubt.
When luck leaves your side,
And there's no one left watching . . .
There is no martyrdom.
No heaven to fall from. No damnation.
Just *nothing.
Nothing and no one*.
But I won't let myself succumb
To the temptation
of self-righteous certainty,
false justifications, or
egotistical self-mutilation -
Just to bleed on those who lay
Below my lowly elevation.
Not like you.
I am not made like you.
No longer, will I distort my own view
To lie to the few, who stand with me in the fire.
It's true.
I am a worthless piece of ****
and even I can hardly stand it
when I speak about myself.
But this time . . .
It's about more than me.
And, for once, I'm going to spend well the wealth,
That I was given and didn't earn,
On those who showed me how to learn
And to never become like you.
Yes -
I am judgmental and self-loathing.
I am selfish and I am wrong.
I am naive, and strung out and strung along.
But I
am not made
like you.
I am strong.
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 5:05 PM UTC
The purest sense of understanding that allows two hearts to move beyond the borders of the conscious, thinking mind.
Without the thoughts that twist the words, that distort perception; what is conveyed, is... is... unconditional acceptance and love. In this simple concept we find solace, we find connection, we reach the precipice of and stare in awe at the beauty of the humane soul. Everything seems perfect.
By this perfection, given face value, we draw the ever permanent distinction between what what is black and what is white; what is wrong and what is right; what is virtue and what is moral travesty. For inherent to humanity is the eagerness, bias and extremity with which we represent the good and evil of this world. For who would believe that the "caretaker", wrought of good intentions, could be soiled in his actions?
The caretaker that empathizes with the troubled or broken soul is a testament to the honesty of a human heart; but he who enables others with his empathy becomes not the caretaker, but the "jailer". Through his conviction to ALWAYS be there, to sooth the hurts, to understand the pains and to maintain control... by those actions, he belittles them. The relief of empathy is only temporary. Empathy does not enact change, it is mere salve and bandage, it quells the aches for but a moment. And when they return, in their woes, the service of the empathizer becomes requirement.
For though empathy may be needed, with the power to forge a bond of deep understanding, its indiscriminate use only stunts. Personal growth, it is found by many paths in this world. We must grow and mature; let others do the same. Life is a journey with many opportunities but also many hardships, we are defined by these. If we are stunted by the empathy of others, in their quest to protect us, we will never grow, never achieve that which is greater, and never leave our "prison".
Virtue or vice... once again in the hands of the beholder.
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 2:04 PM UTC
She stared at her thighs,
Tears streaming her face,
Wanting to hide,
In an isolated place.
Fatter and fatter,
They grew and grew,
Before her eyes,
Yet nobody knew.
The pain she felt,
As she watched her reflection,
Searching around her,
Wanting protection.
Her heart starts to bleed,
And her bones start to wither,
Her skin loses colour,
She continues to shiver.
The person inside her,
Causing these thoughts,
Distort her reality,
And need to be caught.
She has an illness,
A serious one too,
So please don't ignore it,
Cause next could be you.
So let's raise awareness,
Of these devils inside,
Let's hunt them down,
Leaving nowhere to hide.
Reach out your hand,
Come on, speak out,
We will beat this together,
Lets scream and shout--
To victory at last!
Its been a long time coming,
So many lost lives,
But we're no longer running.
E.M Pearson
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC
Remember, The Olympics
Not for Politics, but sport
Leaders of so many countries
Choose to use this to distort
The reason all are gathered
To present their efforts best
Not just for Queen or Country
But to continue with their quest
To achieve a brand new standard
A true Olympian at heart
It's time for the worlds people
To come together, do their part
We all cheer for our countries
But we should put them on the shelves
For the next two weeks in London
Cheer on the athletes, themselves
Today I am Canadian
Tomorrow maybe, Dutch
American and English
And French...well not so much
Albanian, Croatian
Serbian as well
I will cheer all the worlds athletes
And I will be the first one who will yell
When a record does get broken
Or a personal best is set
If a time gets smashed in swimming
Or a ball goes in the net
My country is my favourite
But, whichever flag's unfurled
For the next two weeks in London
I am a citizen of the world
I will sit here on my sofa
Acting like I'm on the bench
and I'll cheer on all the athletes
But...I won't cheer for the French!!
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 8:04 AM UTC
There is pleasure's sigh, there is despair's sigh,
Adorned with a sweet smile or a sour cry,
Screaming both in the night with no reply,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
All places of Tokyo change at night,
Streets are flowing rivers of gleamy light,
Lit-neon signs glowing at every sight,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
More footsteps have been set in these lit-streets,
Than the words have been said in these lit-streets,
Or the numbers of debt in these lit-streets,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Glamorous in the busy night like pearls,
Hostess girls show to men a sight like pearls,
With smiles and teeth who're white like pearls,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Girls who're shining like jewels are adored,
Who quickly by empty wallets get bored,
By the men who these sweet gems can afford,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
As long as bars shine with signs of neon,
The crowds in this city are going on,
Until they are put out at times of dawn,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Lights are reflected as blurs in each pool,
Who distort the sights like the alcohol,
Who is served in passionate bars as cool,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Water's flowing in the water business,
Who's to the old days a reminiscences,
Where the thin rules of the night are boundless,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Unlike the tradition of the flower,
Here they paint faces to take a powder,
And then embrace the ones with much power,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
The alcohol is poured down like the rain.
How hide drunkenness from whiskey and champagne,
They put powders on the face to look plain,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Adored, desired and loved is every star,
Who strolls around or drinks in every bar,
By each man with a luxuriant car,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Mâhî's still to Tokyo a stranger,
Both to its pleasure and to its danger,
Where the eyes at night only see a blur,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 6:43 AM UTC
Who is left that cares for what's precious and finds a way?
is there an awareness that allows for love and caring to be expressed?
what ego was more important?
what winning or need to feel better was more important?
funny how the need to rush away from the most important communications distort every communication
always in a hurry to move away from
only to never really completely have what is needed for the right communication
impatient with this, in judgment of that, closing off all feelings after the next determination
all that was missed because of this cell phone or this "appointment" who truly held no self created distraction?
where nothing would have interfered with what should have been held in the highest respect for however long it took?
what was more important than truth expressed and feelings shown?
what deserved making what was precious not a priority?
What will sit there as a stone unturned and a pain to ruminate because a mis-communication was digested as truth when it wasn't. And love wasn't allowed the path to bloom
and caring wasn't mutually expressed
Funny how the only way I could ever express myself in full is to write a book because nobody involved ever really has the time, patience, open-mindedness and lack of ego and judgment to hear it without changing what it is--being taken away or held in possession of by another to shield what is complete in explaining
so why not expose everything and be without judgment, fear, or the ticking clock
why not make that the most important thing instead of the short fuse, the agenda that makes it unimportant, the hate that ends all communication
Why not love and love with patience, caring, open-mindedness for wasn't there plenty of times where love was needed for you and it was given and given and given some more?
Where is the love?
Where is the love that has infinite patience to hear and stay with friction until it no longer is? Where is what is most PRECIOUS?
But the prissy spoile friends say no, and the television personalities say no, and the opinions of others pre-determined yours, and the opinions you chose you are a prisoner of--but why is what is so precious in the overall scheme of things not the most important thing?
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC
Erstwhile, i cared for none
But now i have a promise
To the Lord that i can be
As worthy as a servant should be
The earth is my battlefield
Amid in the evil, wearily i stand
A relentless battle to survive
Trying hard to stay alive.
Each day I'm faced with opponent
In an arena crowded with temptation.
Masters of the dark distort my spirit,
In their deadly game, i am but a pawn.
So weak, i tremble with fear.
This unutterable battle, i am bound to lose.
Lord, send forth thy holy warrior
And save me O Lord, make haste.
He knows my every weakness.
My weakness his console,
But, Lord have mercy on me
For you said "My power works best in weakness."
Permit me as your lowly servant if i deserve,
And send me forth to justify the truth.
Nurture me under Your grace
And i will build in You a strong faith.
As a roaring lion he may come,
But i will stand still and never move.
For i have faith in You Lord
I will rejoice and forever be glad.
Lord, make me wise
That i may know his cunning ways,
Make a shield around me
And wrap me in Your loving arms.
I will watch and pray
Lest i get weary,
I have a life to sacrifice,
A heart to give.
Lord, have patience with me
"O Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger,
Nor chasten me in Your hot displeasure."
For i am but dust and You are my saviour.
I will prove to be your worthy servant,
I will honor Your grace and love,
Till the day i hear the trumpet,
In that day, i will greatly rejoice. AMEN..
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
Divine Minds Transcend
This life is full of circus mirrors made to distort what matters.
When the ride slows down, and our mind begins to clear, we frantically try to quiet the chatter.
Layer after layer we shed our fears until our ego is found,
drowned in the light of a supernova,
then shattered loud with glorious sound.
The earth is a living, breathing body, fragile as it comes undone.
This body has a thriving soul, pulsating inside a honeycomb.
This body has a mind with an ego, that believes it's in full control.
The time has come for our consciousness to ascend to the next level.
The nether world will greet you when the last grain of sand drops,
in the hourglass of fallen people, deep inside a single thought.
We all must follow the burning flock, or purge our life of the ego.
Will you answer if they knock, and begin the spirit walk?
If you walk I shall join you and leave behind a sequel.
Death ends the circle of life, soon our bodies will be vaporized.
Hold my hand and close your eyes, hug me tight but do not run,
for tonight the skies ignite in the glory of our supernova sun.
Layer after layer we shed our fears until our ego is found,
drowned in the light of a supernova,
then shattered loud with glorious sound.
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 6:24 AM UTC
Integrity is the value
You place on yourself
You keep your own promises
You know yourself well
You don’t compromise
Your values, your core
Because that never changes
From what went before
Then you can be open
And give your support
Be flexible
Life just can’t distort
Or toss you around
By what others think
You’ll see opportunities
Not pull back from the brink
You’ll try those new things
With a principled life
In confidence
Not on whim
You’ll always decide
You’ll plan your direction
And not just react
You know who you are
And you have the map
You prepare your own future
On the screen of your mind
Long before it happens
It’s already designed
No matter how adverse
Or how dark the hour
Your hope burns within
And gives you new power
You pick yourself up
Rejoicing in faith
Energizing your life
And fulfilling your days
Feb 14, 2010
Feb 14, 2010 at 5:22 PM UTC
weary of mothers and friends
losing their children,
before their time,
weary of failing
to achieve reconciliation
with whatever one nominates
the force that regulates,
fate, Name-Your-God,
deity of your choice,
nature, laws of physics,
the "whatever"
that controls, interferes,
that you think to believe
wills these event's occurrence
non-randomly
cessation of formalities,
one sided truce
signed and delivered,
unafraid to call this
what it is,
**** and damning fate,
for no god
could be so cruel...
If only there was a
Dislike button
for life and the poems
wrenched from death
at 5:00 am
this thought is my
sole inhabitant
once again,
nature's bosses distort,
another friend's grief
asks, cajoles me
to betray my/thy belief
banish it or me,
for we both cannot be
cohabitants
under the one roof,
of this limited mind,
where flailing
poems
never good enough,
failing
to express my
sorrowed rage
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 6:03 AM UTC
A rhombus is my favorite, crooked square.
I like haunted houses with windows with faces
and fun houses with mirrors that oval circles
that distort my body two hundred degrees.
I like haunted houses with doors at right angles,
and half moon neon protractors
that blur every shape zero degrees.
I like cubes I stack four cubes high.
I like half moon neon protractors
and scientific calculators.
I like cubes I stack ten cubes high
and old houses with ceilings that creak.
I like scientific calculators
and dividing eight billion by pi.
I like old houses with ceilings that creak
with cylindrical cans filled with old beets.
I like dividing eight billion by pi
and fun houses with mirrors that stretch right angles.
I like old houses with crooked windows,
like I said a rhombus is my favorite.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:40 PM UTC
In tales of old, on Mount Olympus high,
Where gods and goddesses roamed the sky,
Aphrodite, fair and beauty's muse,
But whispers tell of a love confused.
In affairs of hearts, her charms renowned,
Yet rumors spread, a deceit profound.
Her love, a tapestry woven with desire,
Yet secrets whispered, fueled the fire.
A cheater in the game of divine affection,
Her heart's allegiance sparked introspection.
For Cupid's arrows, not always true,
In love's labyrinth, confusion grew.
To Ares, god of war, she turned her gaze,
A clandestine affair, a dangerous craze.
In the shadows of Mount Olympus, they conspired,
Love's flame illicit, yet never tired.
The gods above, in their celestial court,
Witnessed Aphrodite's love distort.
For in her quest for passion's sweet embrace,
She left behind a trail of love's disgrace.
But was she a cheater or victim of fate?
In the realm of gods, emotions intricate.
Aphrodite, tangled in love's intricate dance,
A celestial romance, a fateful circumstance.
So, in the pantheon's tales of divine deceit,
Aphrodite's story, in whispers, we repeat.
A goddess of love, entangled in desire,
A cheater or not, the myths conspire.
Dec 2, 2023
Dec 2, 2023 at 10:52 AM UTC
A thousand angry fingers are fighting.
"I’m right! Im right! There’s wrong in your writing.”
There’s a war of opinion, it's a slaughter of facts,
as fearful dominions blame who they can for the acts
of hate that they scrape across our tired eyes;
and as we try and decipher truth from the lies.
So soon people point, push, drag and despise
anyone they believe to be the devil in disguise.
“ Hang them, hit them, beat them down.
Don’t let another one of ‘those' in my good town”.
I tried to tie my own tongue and keep quiet.
But my fingers felt need to fight in this riot.
Though I am not seeking a thumb from anyone,
I was beginning to fear I was a disloyal son;
for our mother is weeping for every child.
Whether radical, righteous, anxious or mild.
She’s worried this war, like a fire in the wild,
won’t stop until all is consumed but the ash that is piled.
“ Stop this! Stop this! My dear children!
Life is so much more than the motives of men"
And I watch this war from a cafe in Glasgow;
outside enjoying coffee, crisps and tobacco.
The smoke swirls my head into a strange sense of comfort,
as before my eyes I watch my own world distort.
Where political posts attempt to equal social justice.
Where blood, bodies and bombings add to our numbness.
Where others opinions slowly shape and become us.
Where poets lack rhyme, guidance or substance.
Where In friends we see foes, and in fellow citizens: dangers.
Where we speak with our fingers, and to ourselves become strangers.
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 9:32 AM UTC
Why do we distort beauty?
Beauty can be power, but it can also be a burden
I never understood, but now I do
When we are not bestowed with it,
We cage it by any and all means possible
We mock those who lack it and hate those who have it
Green monsters rise in us
We blur the pure with cold blacks and angry reds
We blame them while we try to be them
I suppose jealousy is a fickle thing
In the stories of old, they say one is blessed with beauty
To gain the admirable attention of others,
How it must feel to be dotted on
But then comes the curse
Of having too much attention
Of getting the wrong attention
Of being objectified and not respected
Of being catcalled in the streets and attempting to ignore crass comments and rude remarks.
Like the attention
Don't like the attention
To be called beautiful is such a nice thing
Until it's not.
Apr 8, 2022
Apr 8, 2022 at 12:32 AM UTC
My scars remind me of many things…
Some I want to remember and others I want to forget.
I am pure to the truth but I swell in regret.
Shame, pain, triumph, strength… scars represent.
There are no badges to wear;
I have no pride to hide.
I am not a product of the stories;
I refuse to be a prisoner of my descents.
The past is often forgotten...
Memories distort beyond recognition.
Scars will fade, darken, stretch and shrink.
But the deep ones stay; I still can’t forget.
Emotions dissipate... or so I thought.
But now I believe they simply hide
beneath layers of damaged skin...
keeping those scars painfully alive.
It isn’t protection; it isn’t healing.
No badge I’ll wear; no pride I’ll find.
Yes, these scars are mine…
But I am not my scars! And my scars are not yours.
To some, I am marked for life;
I cannot control their stereotypes.
I **** them and their forced opinions!
They thrive on my scars; they try to create new wounds.
Sometimes, I let you see my scars… but I am far from naïve.
I know I am giving you a temptation and a tool.
Don’t try to own me… you are a fool to think you know me.
The why, when, and how is my personal mystery.
I won’t let you look beyond the fragments;
Deep below the layered scars hides my truth.
I will not allow you entry; I am still afraid.
Self-inflicted wounds are far more acceptable.
I do not wish for more scars…
to add to my repertoire.
I do not wish for more adversaries…
to shove me back into the ground.
My past is mine and mine alone; it remains a part of me.
But despite the spite I feel…
My past is not my present; my past is not my future.
And it certainly is NOT any of your business.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 9:29 AM UTC
It's mind control, mind control
Corruption of your thoughts, yeah
Destruction of your soul
Mind control, it's mind control
Corruption of your thoughts, yeah
Destruction of your soul
Don't let them mold your mind
They wanna control mankind
Seems like their only intention
Is to exploit the earth, yeah
And you trust in their deceit
Your mind causes your defeat
And so you become an invention
To distort this earth
Propaganda and lies
Is a plague in our lives
How much more victimized
Before we realize? Hey
It's mind control, mind control
Corruption of your thoughts, yeah
Destruction of your soul
Mind control, it's mind control
Corruption of your thoughts, yeah
Destruction of your soul
Ooh, Grandmaster
Let the people go
You put them in total confusion
To downs-troy their soul
For they practice what You preach
So they're always in Your reach
Hi-tech slavery in these days
It's mind control
They'll make it attractive to get man distracted
Corrupting your soul, polluting your soul
Destroying your soul, mind control
Mind control
Corruption of your thoughts, yeah
Destruction of your soul
Mind control, it's mind control
Corruption of your thoughts, yeah
Destruction of your soul
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Come on and get it together, brother man
What, what you say?
It's mind control, mind control
Corruption of your thoughts
Yeah, yeah, destruction of your soul
Mind control, it's mind control
Corruption of your thoughts, yeah
Destruction of your soul
(The truth is there for us to see)
It's mind control
Corruption of your thoughts, yeah
Destruction of your soul
(The truth is there for us to see)
It's mind control
Corruption of your thoughts, yeah
Destruction of your soul
(The truth is there for us to see, the truth is there for us to see)
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 2:06 PM UTC
If I am to die today
to live last hour and pass away
to end a gift I did receive
a chance at pain and joy and greed.
Then the thoughts inside my head would die
my secrets, loves, my thoughts and lies.
And that is why I'm writing this
a poem to express my wish
to let you know the things you shouldn't
so when I die my life it wouldn't.
My life would live in knowledge kept
in things that others wouldn't let
people know about their lives
their secrets, loves, their thoughts and lies.
Poetry is the art of uniting pleasure with truth
someone once said to try and sooth
the truth they hid from all the rest
who ignore the art, who aren't impressed.
You see poetry is more the art
of uniting truth with what's in heart,
be that pleasure, pain, pride or glory
it's all expressed in one short story.
Such as this about my thoughts
for when I die I think I ought
to let you know my boring story
about my pleasure, pain and glory.
The problem is you see I can't
find a story to enchant
that does not lie, distort the truth
that would not make a better youth.
For now I've realised if I die
today, tomorrow I'd have to lie
to be remembered, kept it thought,
that's something I was never taught.
At last I know what I'm to do
to be remembered, and be true
I'd have to tell you things I shouldn't
so when I die my life it wouldn't
be forgotten, as with rest;
I'd be at peace, completed quest.
Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 5:57 PM UTC