Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"distracting" poems
I am loud, Demanding attention. I know when I am being charming Because I try. I put on my impressing face And do my impressing hair And speak my impressing words. I tell you my embarrassing drinking stories And everything else about me That you probably shouldn’t know. I am not good at being quiet Because that’s not who I am. I am not the sweet girl Who will leave you with a smile And a touch And a glance Or a single word. There is nothing of this fashion of romance About me. I am the girl who will point out your flaws, And take you outside to see the stars, And remind you how human you are, And what a wonderful thing that is. I am the girl who will talk about science, And music and theology and history, And point out constellations, laughing, When you don’t know the big dipper’s name. I am the girl who will make witty references, To classic literature and science fiction, And will tell you stories of how I once, Made a gingerbread replica of a lighthouse. I am the girl who will stand on a table, And sing at the top of my lungs on the highway, And act like a chicken or quail or velociraptor, Or nuzzle your face like a lion to make a point. I am the girl who takes too many shots And then coaxes you to bed on a Russian liver, And knows all the right places to bite, and tease, And follows with exceptionally coherent pillow-talk. I am not a thin silk scarf on the wind. I am not a thing hard to capture. You would not spend a perilous journey Through a wild, perfumed jungle, Searching for my slender garments Hung beside a pool As I wail to the breeze. Rather, I am the bird who flies overhead Making too much noise Distracting from the trail ahead. A bird whose plumage proves What an interesting life it must be… What a colorful life for me… Perpetually strange The lone comic relief. I am many things. But I am not quiet. Of this I am sure.
0
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 6:27 AM UTC
I am Loud
I am loud, Demanding attention. I know when I am being charming Because I try. I put on my impressing face And do my impressing hair And speak my impressing words. I tell you my embarrassing drinking stories And everything else about me That you probably shouldn’t know. I am not good at being quiet Because that’s not who I am. I am not the sweet girl Who will leave you with a smile And a touch And a glance Or a single word. There is nothing of this fashion of romance About me. I am the girl who will point out your flaws, And take you outside to see the stars, And remind you how human you are, And what a wonderful thing that is. I am the girl who will talk about science, And music and theology and history, And point out constellations, laughing, When you don’t know the big dipper’s name. I am the girl who will make witty references, To classic literature and science fiction, And will tell you stories of how I once, Made a gingerbread replica of a lighthouse. I am the girl who will stand on a table, And sing at the top of my lungs on the highway, And act like a chicken or quail or velociraptor, Or nuzzle your face like a lion to make a point. I am the girl who takes too many shots And then coaxes you to bed on a Russian liver, And knows all the right places to bite, and tease, And follows with exceptionally coherent pillow-talk. I am not a thin silk scarf on the wind. I am not a thing hard to capture. You would not spend a perilous journey Through a wild, perfumed jungle, Searching for my slender garments Hung beside a pool As I wail to the breeze. Rather, I am the bird who flies overhead Making too much noise Distracting from the trail ahead. A bird whose plumage proves What an interesting life it must be… What a colorful life for me… Perpetually strange The lone comic relief. I am many things. But I am not quiet. Of this I am sure.
Continue reading...
57
Terrifying are the attent sleek thrushes on the lawn, More coiled steel than living - a poised Dark deadly eye, those delicate legs Triggered to stirrings beyond sense - with a start, a bounce, a stab Overtake the instant and drag out some writhing thing. No indolent procrastinations and no yawning states, No sighs or head-scratchings. Nothing but bounce and stab And a ravening second. Is it their single-mind-sized skulls, or a trained Body, or genius, or a nestful of brats Gives their days this bullet and automatic Purpose? Mozart's brain had it, and the shark's mouth That hungers down the blood-smell even to a leak of its own Side and devouring of itself: efficiency which Strikes too streamlined for any doubt to pluck at it Or obstruction deflect. With a man it is otherwise. Heroisms on horseback, Outstripping his desk-diary at a broad desk, Carving at a tiny ivory ornament For years: his act worships itself - while for him, Though he bends to be blent in the prayer, how loud and above what Furious spaces of fire do the distracting devils **** and hosannah, under what wilderness Of black silent waters weep.
0
41.2k
Thrushes
They told me to sit small, legs crossed like folded paper, voice tucked behind my teeth as if silence were a virtue. Cover up Because if you don’t It’s your fault Your fault for their actions If you ask for help It never works “He has a bright future” If you need it to stop Need to make a change You can’t It’s your body But it’s their choice Your skin, a weapon turned on yourself distracting, disgusting You would never ask the same of a man People ask Man or bear The answer may seem obvious to them But no Bear Bear Always bear Because if it were a man It would be so much worse A man in a room of women Ecstatic and elated A woman in a room of men Terrified and petrified My shoulders? Do they distract you How about the bulge in your pants? That distracts me But I can’t say that That’s unacceptable and awkward So for once Maybe instead of protection Education would be the way to go Because the answer should never be bear
0
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 12:39 PM UTC
man or bear
thoughts in endless swirling like a storm and un-rhythmic beats of my chest distract me i should be listening but my head is lost far, far gone deep, deep it's sunk maybe its your stupid smile or your uneven words i should be listening but the sparks are distracting oh, they'll surely be a second date
0
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 7:14 PM UTC
the date
When I am in statistics I cannot focus because the world around me is ending in my mind slowly fading into something without meaning until I cannot breathe and I have to leave to go cry in the bathroom. When I am in my statistics class I cannot focus because there is a boy there who looks like my favorite **** star I know what his ***** looks like      or might look like      Schrödinger's **** in a box. I cannot help but stare at him and picture him in gym shorts and no boxers or cargo pants and no boxers or just in boxers or. It's an uncomfortable feeling of morbid intrigue that makes me tap my toes too fast. I want to know him. I want to tell him that I love the way he smiles and laughs and communicate s and makes sure everyone is safe and happy. I can only watch **** that has behind-the-scenes features. It's comforting to know that everyone is happy and everything is consensual and everyone is having fun. I get too invested in these people, too attached - One time I had to give up and take a moment to breath because I was just so overwhelmed with pride Like a parent watching their kid graduate after all their hard work. And that feeling is not okay. And seeing that boy in my class is not okay, Because I feel so proud of all he's accomplished So when he answers a question right in class all I can think about is When he ****** a **** on camera for the first time And the first time he licked whipped cream off another man's ******* And it's very distracting. When I am in statistics I cannot focus because I start to worry that I will fail this class and then I start to worry that I will hate my future and then I worry about having a future in the first place, bunching up into an unfocused, panicking, asthmatic mess. The **** star boy is a distraction. It's because of him that I'm passing this class. ( and in a way, a stupid, silly way, it's because of him that I'm alive. )
0
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 12:27 PM UTC
a thank you to the **** star look-alike in my statistics class
When I am in statistics I cannot focus because the world around me is ending in my mind slowly fading into something without meaning until I cannot breathe and I have to leave to go cry in the bathroom. When I am in my statistics class I cannot focus because there is a boy there who looks like my favorite **** star I know what his ***** looks like      or might look like      Schrödinger's **** in a box. I cannot help but stare at him and picture him in gym shorts and no boxers or cargo pants and no boxers or just in boxers or. It's an uncomfortable feeling of morbid intrigue that makes me tap my toes too fast. I want to know him. I want to tell him that I love the way he smiles and laughs and communicate s and makes sure everyone is safe and happy. I can only watch **** that has behind-the-scenes features. It's comforting to know that everyone is happy and everything is consensual and everyone is having fun. I get too invested in these people, too attached - One time I had to give up and take a moment to breath because I was just so overwhelmed with pride Like a parent watching their kid graduate after all their hard work. And that feeling is not okay. And seeing that boy in my class is not okay, Because I feel so proud of all he's accomplished So when he answers a question right in class all I can think about is When he ****** a **** on camera for the first time And the first time he licked whipped cream off another man's ******* And it's very distracting. When I am in statistics I cannot focus because I start to worry that I will fail this class and then I start to worry that I will hate my future and then I worry about having a future in the first place, bunching up into an unfocused, panicking, asthmatic mess. The **** star boy is a distraction. It's because of him that I'm passing this class. ( and in a way, a stupid, silly way, it's because of him that I'm alive. )
Continue reading...
48
Look at those eyes Green as can be There so beautiful Distracting I see
0
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 7:42 AM UTC
beautiful green eyes
Yesterday, my psyche took a beating, Today, I feel like a bruise That is past its angry, blue-black peak And throbs with a dull, distracting ache. Like the aftermath of a storm When the formerly purple clouds lighten But still threaten a final, farewell wetting. That's me, a bruise of many hues Across a canvas of undetermined mood, Turbulent, fierce, bleeding still, Close to the surface, threatening to break.
0
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
Bruised Mood
So, along comes Love, who brings Passion, and Desire. Love ends up tying me up, Passion blindfolds me, while Desire takes control. Now we are ready to role. These ladies forced my hand, no plans to console. Love keeps touching my heart, has a strong hold. Passion is a work of art; touches my soul. While Desire has her *** up, legs are spread apart; trying to take control. Love keeps on tempting me, such a tease. Passion keeps begging pretty "please", while she's on her knees. Desire won't listen, But she's dying to be pleased. They blowing my mind; I'm not talking a breeze. Loves so distracting, to busy multitasking. Passions is upset, didn't like my reactions. Desire is still her, looking for some action. Love, left with Forgiveness, and Passion left with the Compassion. Desire left me for much stronger attractions. It doesn't matter, all three, were just distractions. Rather post it on Hello Poetry, probably get better reactions!
0
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 3:00 PM UTC
*********
I rise to greet the dawn distracting my heart I take a sip of dark roast and exhale today I will just breathe
0
Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 8:46 AM UTC
Breathe
A Serotinous Pine there, Where winter snows soak into thirsty soil but relentless summer sun bakes motionless Every plant a tinder held close to conflagration, in a season's Russian roulette of forest fire. This pine seals precious seed away from every spring’s promise, lest burning destroys every one. Only searing heat during torched consumption triggers the last gentle act, At the knife’s edge of apocalypse itself, opening cones of seeds. Fluttering down to new life on the other side of time. Tiny bright green amid black ashes. Swimming Penguins Birds evolved to fly in ocean. Wings to flippers, feet stepping clumsily from water. Yet eggs must still nest, their babies still breathe. Safety is the very precipice of existence, on bitter ice at 60 below, Sheltering their young clustered from blistering winds, fasting from sustenance, While heaven’s glorious Aurora flame silently over their winter dreams. So what then are we, on This Earth? Cerebral Creatures, Storytelling Animals. Minds created to sense spiritual constructs. Living is the method of our creation, Sheltering each other from inherited trials With contrived joys and sufferings distracting each other from the soul freezing fearful cold of the Empty Void And consuming fire of electric chaos. In the End, our sacrificing gift for our children is God.
0
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 1:37 AM UTC
This Earth, This Life
Scented wax Oh so soothing My nephew gets his nose all over it Because its good stuff And he's a little one. When you said you want one I assume you meant like him? Science A paper Distracting, but important And about a topic I found stupid And of course Being corny And without a way to release corniness I wish I had time nowadays
0
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 11:07 PM UTC
Wax, Science, and Being Corny
It starts with a tickle to my heart tries to gently push my lips apart I resist, much to it's consternation, not giving in to it's polite provocation It bounces around in my brain, so distracting! Ever so slowly I feel my discipline cracking My heart starts to race, my eyes turn to steel I must stand my ground!  I simply can't yield! You look into my eyes sigh my last defense broken... How could I ever have stopped these words being spoken? I love you .
0
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 9:12 PM UTC
The Struggle
Author:  Kristen Stevens Sunday, June 21, 2009 Current mood:outside the loop And yes I know that's a plagiarization (real word??? no matter) of a stupid show...but you shouldn't watch it anyway so there. ME! Last week, as you may have heard was not of the fun, so this week in comparison rocked! And, yes, I am going to end every sentence with exclamations! (it's for the sarcastic effect don't panic) As such I’m going to let YOU write my entry…you’ll see. Once upon a time there was a ______ (adj.) girl. She loved her xbox very much. One day an evil ________(noun) descended on the precious object and smote it with the fury of _______(name of a god). The girl ___________(verb) for many minutes staring at the remains of her once beloved box. She promptly went to the other, less amusing, magic box and asked for _______(noun). She____________(adv.) navigated her way through treacherous and distracting destinations. As she approached the official site, a most ___________(adj.) thing occurred. The destination was ________(noun). Much like the construction in her hamlet, it prevented her from registering her distress. Days _______(noun) slowly, with still no relief for ________(pronoun). What’s a girl to do when  ________(frustrating situation)? In her profession the customers would not appreciate it if she came after them with___________(weapon of choice from popular video game). It had been one week, since the demise of _______(object). She no longer was _______(emotion). The days were literally ________(color). Rain fell _______(verb ending in –ing) the streets. There was still no reply from the xbox deity. Thus ends the tale of piteous woe. This girl has been considering swearing fealty to another more worthy gaming god! There are three systems and I own two of them! Don’t make me get the third! This is a threat! (not you guys, the __________{insert favorite utterance} at Microsoft) goes away quietly muttering to self unkind and unpleasant things that should be done to xbox distributors By the way, how was that I figure, if you’re going to take the time to read it. I should give you something fun to do at the same time. Who doesn’t like madlibs? Huh?
0
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 8:23 AM UTC
Who had the best week ever?
Author:  Kristen Stevens Sunday, June 21, 2009 Current mood:outside the loop And yes I know that's a plagiarization (real word??? no matter) of a stupid show...but you shouldn't watch it anyway so there. ME! Last week, as you may have heard was not of the fun, so this week in comparison rocked! And, yes, I am going to end every sentence with exclamations! (it's for the sarcastic effect don't panic) As such I’m going to let YOU write my entry…you’ll see. Once upon a time there was a ______ (adj.) girl. She loved her xbox very much. One day an evil ________(noun) descended on the precious object and smote it with the fury of _______(name of a god). The girl ___________(verb) for many minutes staring at the remains of her once beloved box. She promptly went to the other, less amusing, magic box and asked for _______(noun). She____________(adv.) navigated her way through treacherous and distracting destinations. As she approached the official site, a most ___________(adj.) thing occurred. The destination was ________(noun). Much like the construction in her hamlet, it prevented her from registering her distress. Days _______(noun) slowly, with still no relief for ________(pronoun). What’s a girl to do when  ________(frustrating situation)? In her profession the customers would not appreciate it if she came after them with___________(weapon of choice from popular video game). It had been one week, since the demise of _______(object). She no longer was _______(emotion). The days were literally ________(color). Rain fell _______(verb ending in –ing) the streets. There was still no reply from the xbox deity. Thus ends the tale of piteous woe. This girl has been considering swearing fealty to another more worthy gaming god! There are three systems and I own two of them! Don’t make me get the third! This is a threat! (not you guys, the __________{insert favorite utterance} at Microsoft) goes away quietly muttering to self unkind and unpleasant things that should be done to xbox distributors By the way, how was that I figure, if you’re going to take the time to read it. I should give you something fun to do at the same time. Who doesn’t like madlibs? Huh?
Continue reading...
9
You came back with rage again You stupid, freaking, angry pen I used to think that we were friends But that seems to be coming to an end You're an angry pen A crazy pen I don't like you one bit You're a lazy pen A stupid pen A freaking baby nudist pen And I Hate You I want to write but you're too busy distracting me With you're incorrect grammar and all your pointless babbling I can't believe this is happening How can a pen be mad at me? I feel like a disciple and this pen is just a Sadducee And I'm ****** off, again But this time it's going to stay All I wanted to do was play But this pen led me astray And I hate it Every little click makes me cringe Every little word I write makes me want more revenge But lets face it... What exactly would I do a pen? Instead of taking it a part and putting it back together again Well, it depends... But honestly pens don't really make good friends You rusty pen You musty pen You mother freaking ugly pen! I hate you pen! I breake you pen! I can't wait to look down from Heaven and see your face in hell.
0
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 8:46 PM UTC
Angry Pen pt. 2
anxiety depression anxiety depression the only things that never leave your side the ones that are always there for you distracting you from the world as your life passes you by constantly reminding you that you don't need anyone else so why would that be a question "hey it's us again! the ones that assure commitment, anxiety and depression" you cling to their words as they've lived up to their promises of never leaving you alone "never question our loyalty we'll always be here! you're wanted, we want you! and that will never be unknown!" "we're not sure why you don't want us around you're always saying you want someone to come in your life and stay a while we thought coming around when you felt lonely would at least make you smile!" I was never scared of the dark until I met anxiety and depression they lurk in the nights and watch me sleep and then yell "WAKE UP" to let me know that self guilt and sadness is still in my possession it's time to go out and find the cure for this stupid disease the only things that will make them go away, self love & inner peace it will be a long time before i find it but i know who will push me in the right direction my old friends who said they'd stay by my side! Remember them? Anxiety & Depression.
0
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 6:54 PM UTC
Anxiety & Depression
The rain felt beautiful. The grass stuck to my body itched But I secretly miss that feeling On any sunny day I feel meaning in the way the field slants Its always done that The white paint has faded away I love it when it stains my fingertips Every shot leaves a tail of water And the rippling sound of the ball sliding down the net The way that the rain falls on me Feels beautiful Literally washing away my worries As I never feel truly tired As if every drop was distracting me From my physical state This makes me feel strong
0
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 11:15 PM UTC
Strong
i never really liked my mind much - too loud, too full, too distracting - until i discovered algebra. my first love was factorization. my second was l'hôpital. my third, ramanujan. i fell in love with numbers before i fell in love with you because they make sense when you don't.
0
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
mathematics
Iced Coffee for Two it’s more like milk with sugar than coffee, but the ice is a dead giveaway yet when i drink them, so do you or rather, i buy one for myself, and you put your distracting lips on my straw thank you for asking, by the way it’s not like i would say no- how could i?? how could i ever deny that face of yours anything you ask me for my love for you is as black and white as my iced coffee and your backpack are we are not total opposites on the contrary, our similarities are why we are bestfriends but you come along, with your smile and those compelling eyes of yours and you drink my coffee you smirk and make conversation and i laugh while you drink my coffee you talk to your girlfriend you hold hands on your way to class while i stand on the sidelines watching you drinking my coffee then she kisses you tasting my coffee she drinks my coffee don’t you understand?? you drink my coffee i drink my coffee this is the way it is supposed to be this is what is right, the way it should go but instead you drink my coffee and when your cold, perfect lips meet with hers in what i’m sure is an electrical kiss, a display of love she too, drinks my coffee she tastes the delicious, sweet flavor of my creation she drinks my coffee but it was not meant for her to drink no, it was meant for me i bought it so i could drink it savor it, enjoy it then share with you and watch you drink my coffee don’t you understand?? this is the way it goes, the story of our iced coffee for two k.m.c
0
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 4:26 PM UTC
Iced Coffee for Two
Iced Coffee for Two it’s more like milk with sugar than coffee, but the ice is a dead giveaway yet when i drink them, so do you or rather, i buy one for myself, and you put your distracting lips on my straw thank you for asking, by the way it’s not like i would say no- how could i?? how could i ever deny that face of yours anything you ask me for my love for you is as black and white as my iced coffee and your backpack are we are not total opposites on the contrary, our similarities are why we are bestfriends but you come along, with your smile and those compelling eyes of yours and you drink my coffee you smirk and make conversation and i laugh while you drink my coffee you talk to your girlfriend you hold hands on your way to class while i stand on the sidelines watching you drinking my coffee then she kisses you tasting my coffee she drinks my coffee don’t you understand?? you drink my coffee i drink my coffee this is the way it is supposed to be this is what is right, the way it should go but instead you drink my coffee and when your cold, perfect lips meet with hers in what i’m sure is an electrical kiss, a display of love she too, drinks my coffee she tastes the delicious, sweet flavor of my creation she drinks my coffee but it was not meant for her to drink no, it was meant for me i bought it so i could drink it savor it, enjoy it then share with you and watch you drink my coffee don’t you understand?? this is the way it goes, the story of our iced coffee for two k.m.c
Continue reading...
44
did not know her when she was miniskirts and high heels, before she converted to the one true religion of poetry & yoga some stray dog thots raveling in a pack cross the not-even-6am brain that alternates tween new day Adam apple crumb crisp and distracting lascivious Eve ones I, would have loved you same back then, no different than now I, write in different styles under so many pseudonyms, but it is the same man I, who crawls into bed nightly with great expectations and a list of salutations to wake you up and commence writing how I, love your poetic yoga-toned long legs snaking between mine while I imagine them in miniskirts and high heels which is a long way round of saying You, alone, my darling forever young one, are my one true religion...
0
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
miniskirts & high heels vs. poetry & yoga
I. you don't even know who you are yet, but you still have to stand on top of buildings and scream what you stand for. people won't hear your values unless you write it on their skin and tattoo it into their minds, so that’s what you’ll do. II. you aren't vain or stupid for idolizing singers with blonde hair and blue eyes, because they look like you, and yet they’re strong and beautiful. it’s okay when you connect to their music then you connect to your favorite boy band. they’ll teach you how your resident ******* means nothing compared to you. they’ll teach you how to winged eyeliner, and how to put your hair in a messy bun. they’ll teach you a new love for songwriting and you’ll probably want to start playing guitar, but the biggest thing is that you relate to them and they give you confidence. III. wear your ******* choker and straighten your hair (or leave it wavy if you’d rather). wear your dark eyeliner and cover your eyelashes with mascara. if you want to wear blue knee high socks, please do. keep your hipster shoes untied if you want. ignore the ******* who thinks you look nice but not in the right way, and go buy that dark lipstick you've been wanting for weeks. IV. don’t trust the people that tell you Taylor Swift has too many boyfriends, and that Beyonce dances too ****** they are the people that will criticize you for wearing a crop top and ripped jeans. they’ll pull you out of math class to change out of your short shorts, and you’ll be forced to watch as the boys you were ‘distracting’ succeed in class while you’re crying in the middle of the night trying to catch up. V. take more pictures of the scenery. those pink clouds you thought were pretty deserve to be photographed, so do it. they won’t always be around and you have to follow your instincts sometimes. stop taking so many pictures at concerts. they don’t really mean anything to you, and it’s more important to listen to the music that helps you breathe. cry when they sing your favorite song, and feel your dreams expanding as you watch. VI. please take care of yourself. when you need help, ask for help, or everything will spiral out of control too quickly. get enough sleep and stick up for yourself when you’re being pushed down. stop caring what other people think, because you’re really the only one that matters. when you’re sad go do what makes you happy, because even if it doesn't make you grin from ear to ear it will help. always remember to love yourself before you let someone else love you.
0
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 11:03 PM UTC
a note to the highschool girl with blonde hair:
I. you don't even know who you are yet, but you still have to stand on top of buildings and scream what you stand for. people won't hear your values unless you write it on their skin and tattoo it into their minds, so that’s what you’ll do. II. you aren't vain or stupid for idolizing singers with blonde hair and blue eyes, because they look like you, and yet they’re strong and beautiful. it’s okay when you connect to their music then you connect to your favorite boy band. they’ll teach you how your resident ******* means nothing compared to you. they’ll teach you how to winged eyeliner, and how to put your hair in a messy bun. they’ll teach you a new love for songwriting and you’ll probably want to start playing guitar, but the biggest thing is that you relate to them and they give you confidence. III. wear your ******* choker and straighten your hair (or leave it wavy if you’d rather). wear your dark eyeliner and cover your eyelashes with mascara. if you want to wear blue knee high socks, please do. keep your hipster shoes untied if you want. ignore the ******* who thinks you look nice but not in the right way, and go buy that dark lipstick you've been wanting for weeks. IV. don’t trust the people that tell you Taylor Swift has too many boyfriends, and that Beyonce dances too ****** they are the people that will criticize you for wearing a crop top and ripped jeans. they’ll pull you out of math class to change out of your short shorts, and you’ll be forced to watch as the boys you were ‘distracting’ succeed in class while you’re crying in the middle of the night trying to catch up. V. take more pictures of the scenery. those pink clouds you thought were pretty deserve to be photographed, so do it. they won’t always be around and you have to follow your instincts sometimes. stop taking so many pictures at concerts. they don’t really mean anything to you, and it’s more important to listen to the music that helps you breathe. cry when they sing your favorite song, and feel your dreams expanding as you watch. VI. please take care of yourself. when you need help, ask for help, or everything will spiral out of control too quickly. get enough sleep and stick up for yourself when you’re being pushed down. stop caring what other people think, because you’re really the only one that matters. when you’re sad go do what makes you happy, because even if it doesn't make you grin from ear to ear it will help. always remember to love yourself before you let someone else love you.
Continue reading...
6
Freedom flings Tyrant kings Into their rightful place A head on a plate Democracy inflates The morale of the people Oligarchy deflates The idea that we're equal Spiteful dictators make their way through the system And dominate the world while nobody listens Distracting people with things that glisten Disseminating hatred as their vision Engendering fear is their mission To buy or sell weapons For more money or more power Dropping bombs from their ivory tower From extreme explosions we cower Explosions of hatred then violence Explosions hastened by silence Explosions of fire we ferment To burn the faces off our enemy To avoid exercising our empathy Creating a world filled by entropy People say ******** like freedom isn't free When the currency we pay for freedom Is restriction We dampen our fiery feelings With prescriptions Freedom is free It's inherent It can only be taken or given away It is not a proper excuse to slay Those that rightly disagree With what you're imposing Freedom is fleeing far far away When people are molded by clay Of those with the power to shape civilians Of those with the power to bring billions Of people to their knees When freedom is our fee To live in timid apathy
0
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 11:46 AM UTC
Freedom
lacking stability rocking, winding, slipping distracting inability missing the step beneath your foot crawling now, just a bit further before you reach the edge of the bed only to realize you aren't even home retract, revise, retrace attempt to find that peaceful place forget to remember remembering to forget once you awake realize that you were never asleep
0
Oct 28, 2011
Oct 28, 2011 at 2:11 AM UTC
sincere dissociation
There are periods that need to be put at the end of sentences that started with a thought, rambled onto paragraphs that branched into multiple ambitious topics that was then left hanging in jumbled confusion half-way through time. In the endless strings of unecessary conjunctions, painful careless adjectives, and inappropriate prepositions, a simple period, used at the end of a completed, sensible sentence, one in which you put an effort to complete, regardless of the distracting pauses of time...a perfect period like that could go a long, long way. It ends THAT sentence so that another, more mature, wiser, more sensible one that could bring forth beautiful thoughts in endless paragraphs, could then begin. Such is the language of life. Such is the power of a period. It is called closure. Sometimes, we should use more periods in our lives, to make our sentences clear. Yes. Period.
0
Dec 23, 2009
Dec 23, 2009 at 6:56 PM UTC
period
Your eyes. An abyss of deep brown. An abyss that promises diamonds. An abyss so distracting and distructive. An abyss that never fails to hypnotize me. An abyss. An abyss...
0
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 11:55 AM UTC
-abyss-
I have faith in medical science But little in practice. Straight spined doctors Racing stopwatches against Their appointment books. Extolling the virtues of thousands of years of medical research But unable to consider anyone's opinion other than their own. Kindly, soft-voiced nurses shuffling from Room to room Doling out condolences and reassurances Paired with regimens Of drugs and IVs. While Old Time in the ticking clock Slows To a dead crawl. And the noise of heartbeats on machines And discussions out in the hall And loved ones distracting and pacifying patients in beds Layer on top of one another to form a firm blanket of Crushing. Boredom. And the antiseptic smell does nothing to ease The passing of time spent waiting While the medical machine spins its wheels To the chime of slot machines. And the bustling rush outside a curtain On hard white floors, Does less than lend a sense a peace But more of frantic urgency. Minute long - task oriented visits Where they know names, numbers, and insurance coverage And they know how many steps it takes for them To lend more of their valuable time In that modern balance of cost and care. Leaving me wondering, Where did the connection go? I wonder where peoples' trust went And when it was replaced with, "How much will this cost me?"
0
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 8:06 PM UTC
Hospital (Emergency Room Talk)