"doubtful" poems
You've brought us closer,
Then made us more distant.
Made us more aware,
Then made us doubtful of ourselves.
Introduce us to more friends,
Then invited more enemies.
Given us more publicity,
Then exploited us.
Save us more time,
Now it's spent to be more busy.
Simplify our tasks just to make life more difficult.
You're an entrapping blessing in disguise.
Made us feel more secure,
Yet gave us more tools to break in.
You've become our new addiction,
Just a second without you,
Got us in technology withdraw.
You're a complication in simplicity.
There's so much to love you but also so much to hate.
Can't live with you or without you...
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 8:17 AM UTC
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Fourteen years old
I love you,
Called out,
A promise of returned affection
Timid, unsure
A response to
Insecurities.
Not true.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Fifteen years old
Distrustful
Cynical
Confused
Emotions flapping about like lost geese
Nothing like all the before’s
So this is what must be
True.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Sixteen years old,
That feeling
Tumultuous but calming
Broken yet whole
Lost but found
Your deep, beautiful eyes
Painful beyond belief, yet the best thing I’ve ever felt
Simply, it's true
I love you.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Seventeen years old,
It’s true
What is?
That
You’re my truth
And
I love you.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted yet
True.
Seventeen years old,
I love you
But…
I ****** up
I love you
But…
I kissed someone else
We never set boundaries
But….
I know I did wrong
I love you
But…
I truly can’t be with you right now.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Seventeen years old,
You’re awesome
We’re so similar
So,
I love you?
No,
I realize that belongs to someone else,
But you think it's yours.
And that isn't true.
****
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Seventeen years old,
I hate myself
Because I’ve hurt you
Your pain is killing me
Though really, it’s me
Killing you
I love you,
It's true.
But,
How can you ever forgive me?
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old,
I love you
It’s true
But you’re broken still
And I wish I could heal the horror
I caused
For you.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old,
I love you
Whispered gently
Deeply
Truly
I want to kiss you
I want to hold you
I want to be with you
Can we, please?
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old,
Yes. We can.
I love you too.
I still truly do.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old,
I love you
But…
Why are you doing this to me?
Why can’t you talk to me instead of hiding behind the texts?
What’s happening?
Please.
Don’t do it this way.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old,
Tears
Broken
Mind exploding with assumptions
Intuition telling the worst of tales
Distrustful
Hurt
Why this pain?
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old,
Bitter
Am I jealous?
This isn’t good…
What’s happened to me?
Helpless and
Still true
I love you
But...
Who knows why?
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old,
And here come apologies
A letter…. I love letters
And
I love you too
Still,
Somehow.
It's true.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old
I don’t know what’s wrong with me
Sad
Hurt
Insecure
Doubtful
Distrustful
Broken
Beyond belief
Empty.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old
And
I keep crying
I cried because you were so caring towards to me the other day
And it was so sweet.
I cried because you hugged me and let me cry on you
I cried because I love staring into your deep soulful eyes
I cried because I feel so much, all the time, for you
I cried because sometimes I truly hate how much
I love you.
I love you,
Goodnight
Every night, since forever ago
Rhythm
Routine
Family, friends
Taken for granted, yet
True.
Eighteen years old,
And goodnight dear one,
I still really do love you.
And, I promise you
All of this is true.
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 2:31 AM UTC
She has her own star
Down on the boulevard
Where they all line up to see her
Welcome to her life
Welcome to her world
Her life did not go as planned
She thought the whole world was in her hands
She craves intimacy in the worst way
But has to settle for whatever the fellows are paying for that day
She parades around on her concrete stars perfumed and sprayed
Hopeful that someone will find her desirable rather than doubtful
Wears tons of makeup
Smokes two packs a day
She thinks the sooner she leaves this world the better
She had a plan she had a path
Before that monster stole her soul and caused her wrath
Now alcohol and drugs help numb her pain
Nothing but a ghost girl remains
The other girl shed herself just a pile of skin left on the floor
This new person is all anyone will see anymore
She does have a good heart
but rarely uses it
too many people have let her down
No one ever tries to see the person that she is
they never stop to hear her story
They say it's hard work to look that easy
Some may even call her ******
But not me
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
Just how does one define friendship?
Oh, I already know what the Dictionary says.
It's far more than merely one word, or two.
You could apply many verbs to describe it.
Few, on their own will justice due.
It is more about one's emotional perception,
than a mere sentence of words, though descriptive.
For sure it's a feeling, a strong visceral response
evoked by respect, even love of a thing above all other's.
Friends come in many shapes, sizes and colors.
They can be inanimate or living breathing.
All inspire in us a near electrical resonance of reassurance,
a sense of peace, surely comfort. Maybe it starts with
the rhythmic beating of our own mothers heart,
the sound and vibration of our first true friendship.
A little later her breast and the nourishment it gave,
became our first outer world dearest best companion.
Mother's milk, served warm, sweet and tenderly,
Love's personification.
Yes of course Friendship can be an extension of a
strong lasting bond with other people, yet even more.
Our family's are our closest best friends, if we are lucky.
But what of the others?
I have been befriended by books, movies, dogs and
many other non human living friends, I even have
a old film camera I packed completely around the world,
that I count among my closest companions.
A soft warm favorite wool blanket acquired down in
New Zealand, also fits nicely that same description.
An old bamboo fly rod that belonged to my Father,
Is a friend I would not part with for any amount of dollars.
And less I forget (No pun intended) our memories too are
right there, with the best and oldest of our dearest, lasting friends,
Conjured up at a minutes notice.
And perhaps last of all, (you may have more on your list),
I can not leave out the most important friendship of all,
It's the friendship we have with our selves, to which I'm referring.
For if that very personal friendship is not strong and on going,
It's truly doubtful that we will have, or sustain for long, any others.
Sep 13, 2013
Sep 13, 2013 at 2:20 PM UTC
Lucky are those who have found love
and been loved.
Lucky are those who bear the gift of face.
Easy is for them to find an easy case
for their own taste
- a goal for their own base.
Lucky are those who has an outstanding confidence.
For by it, they don’t live with a doubtful fence.
Freely as they get any wants in their existence.
I give away smiles, pieces of my lies,
pretending not having rainy skies.
Hiding my Breathless sighs.
Sometimes I am like a rock
too dull to feel, a surface too rough.
A sense I lost, an unreachable core,
I don’t know how to love anymore.
© 2014 Pax
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 10:26 AM UTC
Well then I've lost it again.
It's all gone,
nothings left to find.
There are no reasons
for time,
to unwind,
to be blind
to anything you find
that's helpful.
Doubtful,
you see everything in me.
From my malice
to my chi.
You feel it quick
and it resonates your soul.
Like the sound you get,
when sliding wet flesh
on a glass of water.
Your energy fluxuates,
in such wavelengths,
that my heart must beat along.
To a song of your love.
Of which
i have never felt
anything above.
You can tell,
whether I'm
quivering
or quaking,
shivering,
shaking.
Your what I want most
but whats hardest to keep.
You're in reach of the stars
but won't let yourself see.
I've been waiting for you,
and I'll wait for eternity.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
* A moment where I know yet unaware;
A moment where I'm complete yet missing;
A moment where I'm strong yet scared;
A moment where I believe yet doubtful;
In this moment, I am and I am not.
In this moment, I... *
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 1:52 AM UTC
This trumpeter of nothingness, employed
To keep our reason dull and null and void.
This man of wind and froth and flux will sell
The wares of any who reward him well.
Praising whatever he is paid to praise,
He hunts for ever-newer, smarter ways
To make the gilt seen gold; the shoddy, silk;
To cheat us legally; to bluff and bilk
By methods which no jury can prevent
Because the law's not broken, only bent.
This mind for hire, this mental **********
Can tell the half-lie hardest to refute;
Knows how to hide an inconvenient fact
And when to leave a doubtful claim unbacked;
Manipulates the truth but not too much,
And if his patter needs the Human Touch,
Skillfully artless, artlessly naive,
Wears his convenient heart upon his sleeve.
He uses words that once were strong and fine,
Primal as sun and moon and bread and wine,
True, honourable, honoured, clear and keen,
And leaves them shabby, worn, diminished, mean.
He takes ideas and trains them to engage
In the long little wars big combines wage...
He keeps his logic loose, his feelings flimsy;
Turns eloquence to cant and wit to whimsy;
Trims language till it fits his clients, pattern
And style's a glossy **** or limping slattern.
He studies our defences, finds the cracks
And where the wall is weak or worn, attacks.
lie finds the fear that's deep, the wound that's tender,
And mastered, outmanouevered, we surrender.
We who have tried to choose accept his choice
And tired succumb to his untiring voice.
The dripping tap makes even granite soften
We trust the brand-name we have heard so often
And join the queue of sheep that flock to buy;
We fools who know our folly, you and I.
11.1k
Pain brings out the best in people
And somewhere in between
In the middle of good and evil
Is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen
She radiates on golden airwaves
Among the valleys of time
And halfway down heaven's stairway
She blows your doubtful mind
There's dishonesty in honest men
Somewhere beyond the grave
And when they get lost in it
There's no woman they can save
If falling for you is wrong
Then I don't want to be right
Sing with me, uncertainty
And stay with me tonight
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 3:26 AM UTC
I beg inside my soul to have you.
I don't love you.
I want to feel passion, desire, and the warmth of another body pressing against me
I could grab any man I wanted, but I want you.
I see your brown hair
let me run my fingers through, just once
Your eyes
soft earth
Your lips
pink lilacs
And all I want is your body
Which is very saddening.
To only want to use someone, then toss them aside like trash
How can you?
And still fall asleep at night without thinking about a face wet with tears
your fault
I simply want to do to you
What you have done
To All the women before me,
The same song as a trickery
I want you to fall in love with me
an instrument meets the music
I want you to hold me close and kiss me, as you share your fears and truths.
a melody plays softly
I want you to believe in love because of me
Think of me, breathe me, and miss me when we are not together
accelerato tempo
Until one day you meet me in a corner booth at our favorite restaurant, and I rip your heart to shreds
*Look, I never loved you. I lied.
I used you to get what I want.
You are a pathetic, self-serving dung heap that only thinks about himself. You wooed me, I pretended to like you, so I could dig under your thick facade of masculinity, and discover your sensitive side. I know what you are--man whore--and I enjoyed using you. You can lie to everyone, every woman from this point on, but ten years from now, when you are married to wife number four and you are waiting for her to come home and she never does, I want you to crawl into the bed you made and bawl like the whining, sniveling baby you truly become at night when no one else is around you. I hope 'lonely' presses you down so hard it hurts to breathe. And maybe then you might turn into a different man or at least your miniscule brain will have an inkling of true heartbreak. Doubtful though--I win. You lose*
Then I get up and walk away from you, ignoring any pleas and ****** slurs.
Caesura
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC
I saw you staring blankly in your room
You were lying down, like energy has nowhere to bloom
Mama always deliver you food
You don't eat with us anymore
I heard you cried, Mama told us about it
I understand why and my heart wrenched
I wish I can do or say something, anything
But I don't know what act or words will be soothing
I know your body misses to puff that smoke from a cigarette
It is hard to stop, friends who've been there told me about it
But you had to, we've been telling you to
And because your body is also disappointing you
I wonder where your sweetness has gone to
Maybe they literally seeped into your blood and runs through
Maybe I had inherited it in my veins too
Don't worry I am proud, because this is from you
Worrying has been your hobby lately
Because our youngest still has one more year 'til she finishes her college degree
The house, electricity, water expenses, and the money
Because you could work no more, as per your exhausted and old body
I wanted to tell you that everything's gonna be alright
But, Papa, I cannot lie
I honestly don't know if it will
I am also doubtful, I am also worried
But Papa, as your eldest, I am ready
To take on the responsibility you carried
I know, I know, it'll be heavy
But I can do it, don't worry about me
You have worked hard enough
See, we already came this far
If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have had
The best family I can wish for, and the best of life
So please, be energetic again
Please eat with us again
Please dry your tears
Please get well
Please tell us those sweet-nothings
Or the corny jokes that had us laughing
And we'll tell you, you're still the most handsome being
Our eyes have ever seen
So get a lot of rest
This is just an obstacle, a test
Sit back and relax
Just watch your eldest, just watch
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 5:28 AM UTC
We are a puzzle with missing parts
That is why we make art
It is a healing start
We are all dream chasers
Until pencil meets eraser
Until boat meets glacier
Reality we must face her
When we sacrifice imagination
For societal integration
We search for placation
In lonely play stations
And through vacation
We experience migration
When the results are doubtful
And the response a drought mold
Because people are skeptical
Until there's a shiny scepter sold
Then you're put on a pedestal
And have your pecker pulled
By various industry tools
Loading you like a mule
With expensive jewels
Art must be the only motive
Not climbing any totem
Because once you're dead
Your art can still be read
Audiences may still be fed
But there's a frivolous influence
So you must be vigilant and prudent
To cut that from your life
So art may be your wife
That works to end strife
Yet that kind of help
You can't put on a shelf
I strive to make my art timeless
Though my pockets are dimeless
We live in a world of depression
That carries the risk of regression
My art could help push past it
Now that would be classic
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 5:43 AM UTC
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Who is the fairest of us all?
Skin so delicate and fair
Blue eyes and long black hair
A good king, a good daughter
A wicked stepmother
One day full of gloom and dread
When The Wicked heard it said
"The Daughter is the fairest,
O' dear! You are second best!"
The Wicked was wild with jelousy
And begun plotting conspiracy
Getting rid of the fair lady
Was the wicked plan of the day
The Wicked called on her servant
The name was **** Cindy
Bribed her with riches women want
Promised her a gift of beauty
So **** Cindy and The Daughter
Went into the depth of the forest
**** Cindy has led the pretty girl
She surely must put her to death!
Our **** Cindy however
Found the girl a thing of beauty
**** Cindy's courage betrayed her
Excused herself and ran away
The pretty daughter was left alone
Terribly scared but still alive
Tears fell as she thought of home
Doubtful if she will ever survive
**** Cindy returned to the castle
Showing a heart of a roe deer
And served as a loyal vassal
To The Ever Wicked stepmother
So **** Cindy got rewarded
With unimaginable riches
Lasting beauty she was awarded
At last she got her wishes
At night our **** Cindy
Her riches, all she gathered
And then she vanished swiftly
Away from The Ever Wicked
Meanwhile the pretty daughter
Found a place to stay
That house was full of laughter
And the rest was history
Highly pleased now The Wicked
Turned again to the mirror
But her hopes became unsettled
After the unpleasant cheer
She must die! She must die!
Went The Wicked's awful cry
She became an old peasant
Killed the girl with a poison
And so the pretty daughter
Laid in the forest for days
The cute house lost its laughter
The Wicked went on her ways
The sad news reached the town
And to our **** Cindy
So she wore her sexiest gown
And started on her journey
Into the forest she went
Looking for that pretty girl
Her heart skipped and bent
Feeling that awesome thrill
**** Cindy found The Daughter
Lying on a wooden bed
"Thy beauty is oh, so rare!"
Was the thought inside her head
She could not help but wet her lips
Staring at the sleeping lady
She felt a tingle below her hips
And sensation inside her belly
They said no man can wake the girl
And maybe no man really can?
So **** Cindy kissed The Daughter
And so her passion has began
The kiss was oddly very awesome
And it stirred the sleeping girl
It brought a funny slurpy sound
Waking up The Royal Daughter
"Oh God! Oh my! Oh my!
Oh my beautiful princess!
Take my hand, come with me
Away from this very place!"
So **** Cindy and The Daughter
They ran away together
Across the land of nowhere
Where they lived happily ever after
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Who is the fairest of us all?
"Snow and Cindy are the fairest
O' dear! Now you're the third best!"
~THE END~
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 12:51 AM UTC
While having a heart to heart one night,
My friend informs me that as a straight person, I will never understand what it's like to be closeted.
That there is a reason people understand the term "gay suicide" without context,
That love looked like moth wings that would flutter away or wither at touch,
That the secrets and shame are like locks on the door from the outside and you realize that there is no one out there with a key.
That same friend once asked me if I've ever thought about joining a nudist colony.
She said that the comfort I find in my own skin and my ability to separate naked bodies from beds was admirable.
I told her, there was a reason I never read her my poetry.
I told her, I don't wear make up at Wal-Mart.
That I turn off the lights but still let him love me.
I read to estranged ears.
That bareness was something I would never grow into.
"Darling!" I told her, "there are some things you just aren't meant to see."
I have been truth-or-dared to strip naked, and its not as easy as you might believe.
There is a little something that sits at the back of my mind I like to call "modesty."
Modesty can be defined as the quality or state of being unassuming or limited in the estimation of one's abilities.
"Darling," I wanted to tell her, "You have no idea what these hands are capable of."
There was a time I was proud of that.
They were small and feeble, but holding a blade firm they became strong.
They became what I needed.
My skin became less of a barrier and more of a costume. When I slipped it on, I became original.
I became identified, if only to myself.
The scabs were a serial number the First World girl who was a little too white,
a little too straight,
and a little too doubtful could call her own.
But I was a little too weak,
and a little too lonely
and had a little too much time on my hands to wrap around the knife.
They became my drug. I became a liar.
My skin became an apology for everything I thought you should blame me for.
There was a time I would have done anything to show you, but I have always been a performer.
No one ever asked to see the curtains close.
My friend told me that I would never understand what it's like to be closeted.
That secrets and shame are like locks on the door from the outside and you realize that there is no one out there with a key.
The tally of every moment I'm locked in is a timeline of my mistakes, visible on my own skin.
There are some things you just aren't meant to see.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 1:28 PM UTC
*Cast out entirely this time around.
There's a beautiful world waiting,
But it's easy to be blinded by what you think is beautiful in a beautiful world.*
In the dark for so long.
The retina I own captured false images
Of what i once believed in.
So much effort stored in a mirage,
lodged in doubtful recollections.
I want no sympathy,
I can only evolve through the chasing of symphonies.
Villainous, aren't you?
The conflict is the enemy.
I'll do away with this blame game,
You're just so awfully gifted at how you play.
I was the warmhearted prey
Fooled into what appears to be defeat,
Due to stupidity.
I saw what I wanted to see,
And clearly my vision was wrong.
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
(Originally written 10/31/10
Revised 9/27/14)
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
A funeral for a Great King
Mourning
Ageing
Descendants carve their paths
Glory
Heorot
A Demonic mood-killer
Lonely
Grendel
A hero answers the call
Distant
Majestic
A vow of aid
Impressive
Doubtful
Claims become realized
Death
Celebration
Danger revisits
Vengeance
Maternal
A journey to the marsh
Darkness
Fiends
An underwater duel
Headless
Reward
The hero departs
Sadness
Homecoming
A joyous return
Stories
Changes
A death in the family
Sadness
Inheritance
50 years prospers the Hero-King
Greatness
Theft
A beast is awoken
Ancient
Furious
The people suffer
Dust
Ashes
An old king rebels
Victory
Grief
A funeral for a Great King
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 10:54 AM UTC
My hand and gripped hair
The threats?
"I CAN rip you out, I just CHOOSE not to."
Is is fear, despair, madness, loathe?
The answer is empty of meaning.
What is known would be ignored,
as all said seems true,
but fake.
Boundlessly vain.
silly,
worthless;
doubtful.
What am I looking for in this effort?
I know.
I see.
I hear.
I believe.
One thought twigs into another.
I even wonder if the ocean can breathe.
Breathe life into me.
Aliens don't exist,
but nightmares and demons do?
A problem,
unwanted.
A result,
unwanted.
An answer,
only a lie,
....
unwanted, unwanted, oh so unwanted.
I scream inside,
and every inner glass is shattered.
I yell,
"Notice of Insanity Uprising!"
They yell back,
"That's Life."
Upon those words I numb my mind,
I release my grip.
I let go of everything.
MY face: gone
MY body: gone
MY hope: gone gone gone
Anything and everything that was me leaves,
and my body becomes a cadaver.
Drifting side to side,
in and out.
It's more calm now though.
My mind is no longer driving me crazy.
For we have reached our destination.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
Is it sugar*
Or is it death* dirt* or nothing.
I think about it looking into my tea cup.
Just an idea in my head.
My over thinking, over analyzing mind*
I think I am fat.
I hate being fat.
Then I see an amazing fat girl looking good in her jeans.
Her overthrow looks amazing and I want that*
I want to be fat.
I could be small.
I tell my self.
I should eat way less and get skinny.
Fit in very tight jeans and have big hair.
The skinny girl yesterday looked amazing.
But would I*
What if I cannot look good skinny.
I'd loose my **** and look weird.
What if I am those people who can never get small*
I love food and good places.
Most of the times fat girls look awesome dressed up.
I am not skinny or fat.
I have never understood my body.
Sometimes I feel smart sometimes I doubt everything*
So, is it sugar? Is it dirt?
maybe I will never know*
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 3:42 AM UTC
Take my hand
hold on through the quicksand
of my expressed agony
for I’m trying to bring us past the vanity
and the demonic hailings I paint
can as swiftly change to angels sailing past the hate
my words can take you from a pearless white night
with only the moon in sight
then twist that light back to
the sun’s beaming might
surround you in a blizzard
with imagery so vivid
it cuts through the snow
like a rock in a rivers flow
bring you from the crumbles of earthly ruins
to the humble pearly white gates of heavenly viewings
invoke you in anger & apathy
a firery rage bellowing
until you hear a fazed echoeing
pulling you from the depths of mind
to the paradise I envisioned for
mankind
corrupt you with illness of doubtful hate
then present a panacea of a
hopeful fate
I know I’m just a man,
but take my hand
and I’ll show to your there’s more to us than a monotonous plan
Dec 21, 2018
Dec 21, 2018 at 3:07 AM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, the difference makes no difference:>
under the rain love me
above the clouds love me not
think the days flowery and notes of C
think the blame is on the sugary plot
ever since I painted accidents with red
violets turned blue swoon
my demeanor shaded a women with a stubborn head
the kind of color that you moon
the most of the most
all no sequence separated
is what my season is up to raise that toast
and them breezes lay chills for the never faded
sweet
stay on my mind rule my mercury
the feel of love is neat
the curious incident that manifested this artery
a crumble of pieces to get back all a dawn
a primary color
painted on my nails tickling a green lawn
can't be traded with no other odor
the sparkles danced roses over my heart
I knew the first page
would be the death of me from the start
wouldn't trade it with any other stage
how did we get there?
the possession of double happiness
the dry blood scattered in the air
moments printed in hopeful swift angriness
delusional dimensions
out of the norm
things my soul would grant a suspension
this time to welcome the storm
I don't think so
the blur of the night on a stairs
a stumble in once upon ago
brought pretty smiles in crying strands of hair
because I don't want to wake up
the dressing of sunrise capital
the unwanted, a guitar playing after my tea cup
even if the burdened wrists all heavy calculated radicals
kisses infected mere means
the days of thoughtful ventures
of doubtful summers and no sleep
something an old vanilla scent betrays a different texture
-------ravenfeels
Oct 31, 2021
Oct 31, 2021 at 5:26 PM UTC
I have come to know who I was meant to be, or at least I think I have
I have come to know how oppression works, at least I think I do
I have come to know what is ethical and what is not, or are my lines arbitrarily mapped
I have taken time to think about my life, but have I moved forward with it
I think of my past, my present, my future the map to my life unfolding
I see what I’ve done and what I hope to experience and I have come to realize something
I am part of an enormous painting, one that is committed
To ending oppression in all of its forms from patriarchy to racism and classism
I don’t know who I am but I know who I’ll be and I know where I will stand
I am one pixel, one dot, one stroke on this painting of ending all forms of oppression
And when I get discouraged, doubtful, and drab I cannot forget this painting
For it is not a portrait of me or of you it is a painting of all of us, a painting of freedom
I will keep fighting the fight for true equality, I will not be deterred
I will listen, I will love, I will chose to speak up
Because without all of us dots, us pixels, and strokes there would be no painting
And the beautiful idea that we can all achieve liberation is a reason to keep creating
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 11:32 AM UTC
Hold my hand
And lead me through
Traverse this land
Together we two.
Over unknown terrains
Under weeping skies
Through unforgiving plains
Through pain and lies.
Between grieving mountains
And screaming valleys
Feeding fevered delusions
Fraught with delays and tarries.
Beyond the hills and knolls
Hopeful of salvation
Surviving pits and falls
Not knowing the destination.
My hand still in yours
An arduous odyssey
Must stay the course
Must complete this journey.
Bright skies up ahead
Or so they promise
Soon shall pass they said
Soon will come release.
Still in this; still walking
Not soon expecting the end
Still in this; still trudging
Round this obscured treacherous bend.
Doubtful mad endeavour
I dragged you with me
When this finally is over
We'll look back and see.
Glad that we were together
Glad that together we came
Never cease from being near
Keep holding my hand, just the same.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 8:28 AM UTC
The daughter of the village Maire
Is very fresh and very fair,
A dazzling eyeful;
She throws upon me such a spell
That though my love I dare not tell,
My heart is sighful.
She has the cutest brown caniche,
The French for "poodle" on a leash,
While I have Bingo;
A dog of doubtful pedigree,
Part pug or pom or chow maybe,
But full of stingo.
The daughter of the village Maire
Would like to speak with me, I'll swear,
In her sweet lingo;
But parlez-vous I find a bore,
For I am British to the core,
And so is Bingo
Yet just to-day as we passed by,
Our two dogs haulted eye to eye,
In friendly poses;
Oh, how I hope to-morrow they
Will wag their tails in merry play,
And rub their noses.
* * * * * * *
The daughter of the village Maire
Today gave me a frigid stare,
My hopes are blighted.
I'll tell you how it came to pass . . .
Last evening in the Square, alas!
My sweet I sighted;
And as she sauntered with her pet,
Her dainty, her adored Frolette,
I cried: "By Jingo!"
Well, call it chance or call it fate,
I made a dash . . . Too late, too late!
Oh, naughty Bingo!
The daughter of the village Maire
That you'll forgive me, is my prayer
And also Bingo.
You should have shielded your caniche:
You saw my dog strain on his leash
And like a spring go.
They say that Love will find a way -
It definitely did, that day . . .
Oh, canine noodles!
Now it is only left to me
To wonder - will your offspring be
Poms, pugs or poodles?
4k
You say I'm running from myself
I guess you're right
Maybe I am
All I know is that the reason
I hear my heartbeat so clearly
Is because my chest is hollow
I am made up of layers
Too many layers
As if my skin
Was preparing to survive
Out in dead winter at the South Pole
I'm annoying
I'm distrustful
I'm stubborn
And I'm doubtful
And secretive
Maybe downright manipulative
But most of all I'm exhausted
Exhausted of the nothingness
That I float around in
Exhausted of everything
That comes and goes
Ensuring chaos
Exhausted of everything and nothing
And all things in between
Exhausted of
living
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 7:10 PM UTC
They are so much cunning and cruel
Yet they possess, intelligence and smartness
Yes, they are filled with over confidence
They are absolutely shameless too
Don’t you feel my dear?
They don't have any sort of fear
They are beating us, hitting us
And we are helplessly watching them
They are neither allowing us to weep
Not they are letting us to cry loud
They are snatching our source of livelihood
They are looting our meagre savings too
They are boring bigger holes in our pockets
By their powerful invisible technological drills
Selling all sorts of stuff they use to produce
Drugs, sanitizers, hand washes and what not
They are asking to keep our ugly mouth fully shut
By putting beautiful, colourful and fancier masks
They are not letting us to meet our friends
They are not letting us to share our meals
They are not allowing us to share our views
They are not allowing us to share our thoughts
With any of our friend, relatives and fellow citizens
They are just telling us to follow whatever they say
They are throwing ******* and garbage on us
In the name of science, health and hygiene
There appears to be not much science
In their so call science and modern science
Shamelessly they proclaim to be our saviours
Saving us from the army of an invisible enemy
Although existence of any such army is doubtful
But their intentions are doubtful and doubtful
If any such invisible army of enemy really exists?
It may have been raised and owned by them only
To **** the lives of all the other fellow humans on earth
And to fulfil their greed and lust for power and money
They are planning to inject in our bodies
Some drugs, chemical or any such thing
They will even charge money for that
And try to fill their everlasting greed
I wonder, who they are?
God, Demi Gods or the Devils
Or they are just a band of inhuman
Resembling a band of nasty humans
Do they really have some superpower?
Or they are just a bunch of ugly parasites?
Trying to draw everything from our lives
Just to feed himself and to recreate his own life
Jun 16, 2020
Jun 16, 2020 at 6:41 AM UTC