Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
nxxr Jul 2014
Doubts, doubts, doubts
                                       Send me astray

Doubts, doubts, doubts
                                       Please go away

Doubts, doubts, doubts
                                       Eat me everyday

Doubts, doubts, doubts
                                       I am your slave
I am always doubting myself and unfortunately that's what prevents me from having a sane mind.
Toni Lynn Whitt Feb 2010
Usurping feelings of disappointment hit me like a sea of daggers. These thoughts uncontrollable. My doubts hold me back and I am scared. Your thoughts of her. They hurt. They cut me like a knife. Am I not enough to keep her out of your head. These doubts make me feel like I am not good enough. Will I ever be? I cry on the inside every night because I love you so. But my fears weigh on my shoulders like heavy mountains. Will she always be a third wheel in your head. Will she consume your love again. Please don't push me out like you did once before. For if I lose you I lose my world. Please don't let me drown in these sea of doubts. For they will **** everything that you made good. Please leave her in the past and move forward with me. Let me feel that you love me and pull me out of this fog of doubts. Make them all vanish. Ease my aching heart.......
aar505n Jun 2014
My mind goes to a bad place
when there is silence between us
You would not believe the violence
I have thought,
the doubts I have fought
Believing that you could be leaving
and didn't want to make fuss
You wouldn't believe it cause I don't tell you
I stay silent about these doubts
and hope they are just that, doubts.
For now, you are here
and I suppose I should be happy.
RedD Sep 2018
You got me drunk
You got me ******
Invaded my weakest moments
So desperate to please
To feel something
I had my doubts

I told you what I liked
Hoping you liked the same
We tested the waters
Pushed the boundaries
Learning together
I had my doubts

You punished me
Took my breath momentarily
Hurt me, made me want more
I came to you for all of this
You made sure
But I had my doubts

I got me drunk
I got me ******
Feeling everything but nothing
I had my doubts

From the haze I awoke
Standing on the filthy kitchen floor
No longer in doubt

I didn't want to hurt
Didn't want to get drunk
Didn't want to get ******
Just to feel something

I had to let you go
To get on with your life
Of getting drunk
Of getting ******
I like to think you've changed
But I have my doubts
One of the hardest points in my life recently, at my most vulnerable. Luckily I woke up
chris Oct 2015
i was feeling happy
today until my fears
and doubts clouded
my mind and left me
in a dark room.

fears and doubts about
if i was going to be able
to graduate high school
or even go to college.

fears and doubts about
if i would find anyone
that would care for me.

fears and doubts that if
i was ever going to be
my parent's good girl.

but i don't want to be perfect
but i don't want to be a failure
      
fears and doubts cloud
my mind and poison
my body and drowns
me with nowhere to go.
MeanAileen Mar 2017
I'm in love with a man
I know not to love,
his heart will never be free.
I waste my days
a slave to his ways-
knowing he will never love me.

He is the secret
I can never reveal,
the best lover I ever have known.
I've nothing to give
but my body.....it's his-
fresh dirt for him to bury his bone.

Hopelessly hooked
on him like a drug,
wanting him day and night.
I play his ***** game
I have no shame-
taking it all, knuckles white.

Dead is the conscience
I knew so well,
and morals.....they ran far away.
Clarity now blurry
in a love-drunk slurry-
the 'good me' has gone astray.

To lay with him
is playing with fire,
the flames...they burn me alive.
Leaving me marred
hurting and scarred-
the pain on which I thrive.

A fool for punishment
I beg for more,
even if all I am worthy of is ****.
Loving him breaks me
it overtakes me-
but I'm not willing to quit.

I die a little more
with each passing day,
until again, I get lost in those eyes....
All doubts go away
so for now I'll stay-
living this life of lies.
You can't always help who you fall in love with...
I wish you still loved me
the way I still love you.
I'll never understand
why you had to leave.
It is completely apparent
to me that you hate to
see me sad.

You hate to see me cry.
No one likes to see
someone they love fail
when they try and try.
Or stop trying.
Slowly start dying inside.
I will never love again.

I welcomed you in to life
with me and you liked it.
You accepted the challenge
of commitment and love
then let it slip away.
We had a  tough ride
but we saw so much.
We loved every day.

You saw the skeletons
in my closet and asked
for a top to sleep in.
The week before you
you left you wanted
to share a roof with me.
Now I'm seething.

You said you have doubts
and feel it isn't fair to go on
with doubts in your mind.
Except you didn't really try
to understand these doubts
with me by your side.
It would seem you never
truly had me in mind
on this occasion.

See darling,
I had doubts in my mind
doubts about life and
felt it wasn't fair to go on
making everyone around me
so miserable, I wanted to die.
I never took my life.
I thought long and hard about
how much of it was fine.

Turns out all of it was.
Only the heart chooses
its owner and you
are the owner of mine.
I get angry thinking that
you left because I did
something wrong.
Maybe I didn't show you
enough love or perhaps
you just got bored of me.
Ayad Gharbawi Dec 2009
THE STORY OF SARA






Or A Reflection on Ourselves


Ayad Izzet Gharbawi










2008














Table of Contents



Chapter 1: An Awakening. Page: 3.
Chapter 2: University. Page 12.
Chapter 3: Being an Activist. Page 23.
Chapter 4:  The Hallowed Purification Programme. Page: 32.
Chapter 5: The Party Self Destructs. Page: 55.
Chapter 6: Confusion after the Collapse of my Icon. Page: 64.
Chapter 7 Getting a Job as a Psychiatrist. Page 69.
Chapter 8: Afim: Sick or ‘Normal’? Page: 84.
Chapter 9: Having Children. Page 105.
Chapter 10: Omar Again. Page: 109.
Chapter 11: The Meaningless Existence of My Husband. Page 121.
Chapter 12: My Daughter: Lara. Page 127.
Chapter 13: Getting to the Top in my Job. Page: 131.
Chapter 14: Success & Emptiness. Page 142.
Chapter 15: The Shock. Page: 148.
Chapter 16: The Trap. Page: 153.
Chapter 17: The Punishment. Page 162.
Chapter 18: The Barmaid and the Alcoholic Conversation. Page: 166.
Chapter 19: Old Age. Page: 180.
Chapter 20: Seeing My Son: Noor. Page: 184.
Chapter 21: The Unexpected Visitor. Page: 191.
Chapter 22: Conversation with my Social Worker. Page: 195.
Chapter 23: My Visitor Returns. Page: 206.
Chapter 24: Isolation. Page: 210.

















THE STORY OF SARA



– OR, A REFLECTION ON OURSELVES



CHAPTER ONE:  AN AWAKENING



  
            Sara is my name.
  I feel the need to write down the words, or rather, the connected and the unconnected stories, of my life.
  I wish to say straightaway, that I am not an important person; on the opposite.
  I am, in fact, a no one.
  I achieved nothing meaningful in my life, and I was never famous.

  So, why you may think, should anyone read about my life, considering that I am a nobody?
  Well, I think, that precisely because I am a nobody, people should read about my life!
  Why?
  Because, since most of us are nobodies, therefore, I must be a reflection for a significant number of people.
  I am a mirror that most of us do not see; after all, who wants to see what they really look like?

  You see, if I were famous, then I would be in the minority of the population, and, as a consequence, I would reflect the lives of just a small fraction of the people.
  In other words, if I were rich, and if I were to write about my life as a rich woman, then most readers would have absolutely nothing to relate to such a story.
  But then again, to tell you the truth, I am plagued by insecurities and self doubt.
Why am I plagued by insecurities and self doubts?
  Because life itself is full of doubts and insecurities!
  Everyday there are so many events that happen that you do not fully understand - and so they have no certainty.
There are so many thoughts that come across your mind that you cannot believe in with certainty - in other words, you have doubts!
  Life is made up of events, people and thoughts that are themselves uncertain, vague, indefinite, unclear, ambiguous and ultimately blurred.
  That is why, for me, I found no certainty in my life, no sense of definiteness – and the end result is that my image of my personal reality was a blurred vision.

  I could never see an accurate view of my own reality - because I had far too many flawed characteristics.
  I am extremely temperamental.
  I am extremely impulsive; I speak, behave and act without thinking in a sober, rational, deliberate manner.
  I am not a very good judge of character when it comes to people. I often evaluate people wrongly. I misread who they really are.
  I am often very cold with other human beings; I am unable to sympathise and be compassionate to other people.
  I am not a good listener.
  I am a slave to my irrational passions, my dark urges and my undesirable needs.
  Now I am not saying that I have these characteristics all the time – but I confess that I do have them far too often.

  And all these awful characteristics make me quite unable to focus on myself in a logical, coherent and rational manner.
  I am unable to see my real Self; I cannot see where my rational mind tells me where I need to go with my life, rather than where my dark passions tell myself where to go.
  So, maybe my story isn’t worth telling at all.
  Should I write the story of my life or not?
  Will anyone read it?


  I am a member of the weak and the unknown and the unheard class.
  I am a member of the invisible classes, of what they call 'Humanity'.
  Even though, I don’t know what ‘Humanity’ actually means any more.
  I am one non-entity amidst this ocean of Humanity.
  I am a nothing.
  So, what’s the point of my existence and, more importantly, the story of my existence!?


  Actually, sometimes, when I’m in a good mood, I think, yes, come, do not be timid or afraid, and take a serious gaze at my own face, and I hope you will see yourselves – yes, you, the majority of the people out there, this night; for when you see yourselves in my face, you may learn so much about yourselves, and it seems to me, after I have been living and experiencing so long, you may learn from my mistakes.
  It seems to me, that one of the problems so many of us people out there are facing, is that nobody seems to want to take a serious, unbiased way that they really look like – and this is because of fear.


  But what is this ‘fear’?  
  I know that this fear is one reason that causes a nagging and persisting unhappiness.
  This fear is because we are scared to look at ourselves and find a picture that is severely deformed and far too horrible to behold.
  Do you believe that looking at your own face is an easy task?
  I hear you tell me: Oh Sara, all you have to do is to look at the mirror and you see yourself.
  How easy!
  But, I’m afraid, you are wrong.
  Because when you say to me, that all you have to do is to see your face in the mirror, that is not accurate.


  And that is, because the face you are seeing in the mirror is an image.
  That is not your face!
  That’s an image of your face!
  And an image is only one degree of reality.
  An image is never and can never be the whole reality.
  So, you say, why is it that I am seeing an image of my face in the mirror and not the whole reality of my face?
  Because you yourself are scared to scrutinize and stare so deeply at your own face.
  Fear is restraining you from seeing your own reality.
  You may see your real face and it may be a face that is far too ugly to see!



  Now, when I am in a bad, bleak, hopeless mood, I really believe in the depths of my angry heart, that it is utterly pointless to write anything, precisely, because I feel that my entire life is completely worthless.
  Emptiness.
  I feel my life is filled with emptiness.
  Ha!
  How can you ‘fill’ anything with emptiness!
  You know, I feel like ripping to shreds everything I’ve written, and yes, reader, I’ve done that many times – and, then I start all over again.
  And how dare I presume that anyone out there in the world would be in any way interested to read the life of an empty woman who happens to be called Sara?
  You see, at times like these, I have self hate.
  I confess.
  I hate every single thing about myself.
  And that includes my pointless story.


  And so many times, especially at night, when I’m able to write my story, I think, what if no one is reading these words?
  How frightful!
  Could I possibly be that empty?
  Could I – Sara - possibly be so utterly meaningless as a human being, to the extent that no one could possibly be interested, to give me more than a few precious moments of their time, from their important lives?
  Well, for all you people out there whose lives are brimming with happiness; for all those of you people whose lives are so full and busy, so they never experience the utter tedium of boredom; for all those of you people who never face an inner emptiness, a loneliness within their hearts and minds; for all those of you people who have no fears, no anxieties, and no insecurities – then I can honestly tell you to hurl this book away!

  And, yet, I would like to believe that - in the depths of my shaky beliefs and my uncertain certainties - that I have at least one listener with me!
  You know why?
  Because it gives me so much comfort and peace of mind to think that I have one human who is interested to know me!
  The most horrible thing to me is to live in total isolation.
  And to ease that unique kind of emotional pain, is to know that someone, somewhere in this planet actually cares for you.

  I was born in the City, in a middle to low class neighbourhood, where families tended to help each other.
  It was a closely knit community. You knew everyone, and everyone knew you and so, when there was any problem, people would help each other out. You see, in this way, problems became less heavy than they would have been otherwise, because when more people come to help you, the problem weighs less, as opposed to if each family had to cope with their problems all on their own.
  It was a happy childhood; I adored my parents and I thought no one could be better than them.
  They were my icons.
  As a child, they were good to me, and I could see nothing wrong with them.
  But how long did that last?
  By the time my mind was waking up, so to speak, by eleven or twelve, I began to notice, that what I saw wasn't all that rosy at all. My parents used to argue a lot; Dad would scream and Mother would howl.
  And what were the causes of these clashes?

  Both were guilty of countless faults.
  Dad drank too much; Mom didn't pay enough attention to housekeeping and so our house was rather *****; neither parent paid any attention to us; Dad would always invite his 'friends', and they would be rather ****** in their behaviour and with their jokes (or what they thought were 'jokes'); Mom would go for hours on end to her 'friends' houses, and leave us children alone; so, when they were in the mood to fight, good God, both sides of the trenches had lots of reasons, or excuses, to use as ammunition!
  And what battles do we young children witness!
  Dad would scream: "What kind of Mother are you when you do nothing for the house; you don't cook, and so we never have homemade cooking; you don't clean, and so the house stinks and is always in a terrible mess; and then you disappear for hours to God knows where, leaving us all behind! How much time do you even spend with our children? I’ll tell you how long – you don’t spend any time with our children! Children need love, attention and time spent with them; how do you think that affects our children? Do you think that makes then happy?"

And Mom would scream, at the same time: "What kind of Father are you? You're always drunk, and you're always socialising with drunk, ****** idiots. How do you think our children are reacting when they see their Father interacting with the most lewd, disgusting people? You're lazy in your job – and that is when you keep a job more than a few weeks – and, not surprisingly, you don't bring in enough money, and so we live a miserable lifestyle. And, you dare to ask me why I leave this house for so many hours? Of course, I want to leave this house – it's because I cannot stand the repulsive sight of you! And then, you have the nerve to ask me, ‘how long do I spend with our children’? You **** hypocrite! How long do you spend with our children? Not one minute!"


  I would usually rush off to my room, and hide my body and soul in my pillow.
  And as I grew into a teenager, my parents were fighting against each other even more.
  Who was right and who was wrong?
  Sometimes I felt for sure, that Dad was wrong; and, at other times, I felt that Mom was to blame; while at other times, I felt both were to blame; and then again, at other times, I would be so confused that I just gave up thinking about the whole mess, and just wish they never brought me to this world.
  How could I judge them?
  I could never really tell, because I didn't have the facts, did I? Who knows if Dad really was lazy at his job, and if that was the case, why he didn't he realize that we needed him to work harder, in order for us to have a better quality of life? Or, maybe he wasn't making enough money, simple because his job was a low paying one, and so it wasn't his fault that he brought such meagre wages.


  Who knows why Mom didn't take care of the house?
  Maybe she was depressed?
  And who knows why she went off to her friends' house for hours on end?
  Put simply, when you don't have the facts, how can you possibly judge in a reasonable manner?
  But then, maybe, you, my dear reader, will say I am wrong, because one ought to judge the situation by using one's emotions and not just 'facts'.
  To be honest, when I think of those wretched days, maybe they were both 'right' and wrong'; but in what measures – don't ask me!
  What I do know for sure was this: the fact that both Mom and Dad never spent any time with me really hurt me and made feel insecure. I really needed their company when I was a child and right through to my adolescent years, but, unfortunately, they were never, ever interested to sit with me and talk to me – not even for a minute.

  In my teenage years, I clearly remember that I felt that I needed Mom and Dad, because I remember feeling frightened for the first time in my life.
  Why did I feel ‘afraid’?
  I honestly don’t know.
  Strangely enough, before the age of thirteen, all my parents' fighting did not leave me scared; no, my response was one of sadness only.
  
  So, I tried to talk with Mom and Dad, issues that were bothering me, but I found out, to my horror, that they could not answer any of my questions.
    I would ask my parents endless questions like:
"Should I continue studying in school and go on to university, or should I leave and get a menial job?"
"At what age should I get married?"
“Is marriage worth it or not?"
"Should I smoke cigarettes and drink alcohol – or, are these things wrong?"
  “What characteristics should I look for, when I make friends? In other words, what are the good attributes versus the bad attributes in the character of any person?”
  “What is morality?”
  I remember that my parents were themselves confused by my questions, and at the same time they were irritated.
And, at other times, they were increasingly bored with my unending questions.


  Strange combination, isn't it – to be both 'confused’, irritated' and 'bored' with someone nagging at you all the time!?
  I know why they were 'bored'; that's the easy part – it was because, they gradually found me to be a nuisance or an irritant with my questions.
  They were 'confused and irritated', because they felt stuck as to how they could best answer my questions.
You see, they were, themselves, doing all the wrong things, so how could they advice me to do what was supposed to be 'good'?!
  For example, 'Can I smoke and drink alcohol?'
Good question, Sara, but a question that you shouldn’t really ask your parents, when you recall, that both were heavy smokers and drinkers!
  And, when I asked them: 'Should I get married?' How can they answer that one
Andrew Switzer Jun 2015
Opia. Noun. The ambiguous intensity of looking into someone's eyes, which can fell simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.

As you lie in my arms, watching the television, you don't notice that my undivided attention is focused on you. Something I've been dreaming of for weeks, and it's finally come true. Even better, from your angle, you can't see me staring into your eyes, so I don't feel the nervous compulsion to turn away. Whether directly or not, I could drink in your eyes with mine, for hours, and they would be among the best hours of my life.
Then there's the other hand, held tightly by trepidation. I love the prospect of your eyes staring into mine, but it's not without its fears. I'm afraid you'll see all the pain and fears that I've spent the past seven years working to overcome. I'm afraid you'll see all the insecurity and doubts I have about myself. I'm afraid you'll see all the words that I long to whisper in your ear, but can't, because I'm terrified of scaring you away. I'm afraid you won't like the fact that, behind these eyes lies only pictures and thoughts of you. But most of all, I'm afraid that, unlike me, who loves every detail, and lives for moments like these, you won't love the things you see. I long for the day when you stare happily into my eyes, but I'm frightened that you won't enjoy the secrets they reveal.
IndiGo Jan 2015
Our thoughts of doubts are traders
for making us think we cant retain and obtain what we want
leaving us in fear..
We question to attempt and even try.
Julian Jul 2016
Hip Service
By Julian Malek

The zeal of cobblestone tolerance arrayed in fashionable hues masquerading as crimson secrecy, elevates the tide of man but some boats leak in their foundations. Therefore a cork to every exuberance and a triumphant torch for every sorrow lives onward in collective time. Larks that abound because prescience and PUGET sound, that brown has become the new orange which in turn prowls as a concealed swarthy black. To antagonize the willful and frenetic pace, a prodrome of lasting but memorialized disgrace. Should I move to a state by first or last name, or is the final appellation worthy of much more lasting fame. I scurry down the aisles, bemused by shimmering tiles and the beguiled audiences who see much in my limitation but doubt little about my debited elation. Ringmaster Barnum, how much horticulture is needed for assured superstardom, how many cloisters must we evacuate from the incendiary plumes of a metaphorical Harlem..  But know that no virtual reality can supplant the reality that does truly exist, or at least our time is too infernal and purblind to resist. Carrey the tops of mountains in the humor of wellsprings and fountains, we engage a menagerie of egos lilting of an etiolated pragmatic concern. Evicted from paradise, littered with say-cheese demise ensnaring three blind mice eaten alive by snake-eyed vice. To feel good without incorporated tyranny, we must see blue and red as alternatives to the same destiny. A world that reckons with the futilitarianism of pacified malcontent and astroturf monikers that lead the impressionable into a slaughter shed. Established or not, any enchantment under the sea must include fishes once a pastiche of me, but to them I avoid their courtesy flush and never even faintly blush as my egalitarian statements are lavish thrush.

Five TO Won baby one in 99, everyone here aboard the titanic stays alive, you got your boat baby and I got mine, gonna make it with babies numbered in surreal primes. Halt the slots game the nines, a stitch in time is going to turn out to be Mine. Flanger goals, girded piles, liminal like an aborted Harry Styles, we climb mountains we issue tithes, and the turmoil is etched into 45-notched bludgeons and two-tucked knives. Excuse you, where have you been all day, have you been sauntering in a gentle rain or a genteel pain, have you wallowed beyond the mires of doubt and ranked above David Blaine. I hope you tell me of your magic tricks, rather than your other flicks endeared I stand to fight an ineradicable itch. But if not, you placid pond dented by so many rocks and so many ripples give your heart over to me, before I clinch the special Olympics *******, we ran, we span the homespun garments of your left and right hand, but death is a specter that ghoulishly carouses along the carousel terminal disease we call life. I beseech your deepest affection and want to console you for your deepest struggle, to be there every time wed with time rather than a throttled scuttle. Moons make you guarded but maroons leave me desiccated, don’t ever let that wilted flower die, always water it with a rich but gentle ties and widened deck for all to at once marvel and pry.  Monsters of Mars Attacks once flanked my bed, as though the **** brain scared every gooseflesh and restrained every frisson of mystery. I lampoon myself for those cold Dark Knights and the protection ended by the plight of the poor mattering nothing to the deliberately internecine rich. I struck gold in a valley somewhere, an oxymoron of paradox that now you have the privilege to dock, to stay aboard to be a vessel of peace less widely deplored. Even if we don’t sprout wings, we garner the exactitude of measured things and our glass elevator though easily shattered by the glower of enslavement is actually our vista to heaven or listening to brethren tingles for rich mans trinkets and other things. For humanity deserves a legend and a princess, a regimented desuetude and a flanged lust but in our mistakes wildly flouted in momentary moments we become purified by the temptations of an alabaster palace.

***** the left-field wisdom of a pragmatic paragon ellipsis in prison, slip between the cracks and let my suburban muse become your urban ruse. To enchant a caged world beyond a reality delicately and deliberately unfurled. Squirming toads on highways enchanted but dead, are graves for the blue becoming purple in every dignified red. Gainsay assaults me with platitude, a repeated hitter quit on the first bunted ball into foul-line territory. Those gripes are swiped right in all circumstance no matter the plight. The pronged hearing of a trident sensitive to ambient collection, and suddenly we are all in the mad house even though the house of profaned pain is much worse. Glimpses of gambits that gambol for nickels in transit as occult grenades and known dice waddle through without artifice or device, and the laughter and slaughter that trains collegiate minds, differs no more than the tropes of a glamorous violence articled in sordid rhymes. This surfing movie means so much more than Surf Wax America pristine in limited but sacrilege nirvana. Teen spirits smell muskier than 90s pop dreams, the grasp and grunge of gouged eyes becomes a mummified staid, a scarecrow to those who disobey. Childhood flashes with blinding light, and new sight illuminates darkening blight, A blight eradicated only by two magazines and including one that houses the bullets that ***** themselves between death and comatose dreams both within astral sight. Littoral harbor on a seaside town, a shanty with a brackish gown that glides the gourmand to the cosmopolitan eatery on the outskirts of lost & found. But forever lost in embonpoint and forever gained in chavish that exonerates the gaunt, the etiolated prince in heart becomes irrefutable marrow in minded souls.

If I am a spy you are an ESPY, and if I cry than you are a baby,but since neither are the case my wiseacres will cultivate lava lamp dreams for a new generation and suddenly Boston bets on Harvard, but who knows of this piped blather squirming for relevance rather than voguish but temporary chatter. My regatta knows how to swim, my life now knows how to cringe and yet still win and in stilted plays of bungled sincerity the God of peace reminds us of our transcendent personalities. That we in sincerity top the barnacles of invention a novelty but a rarity. But the guillotine quill of emboldened unscripted parvenus ruthless in their eager dues, outdate and outlive the sued swayed blues that indemnify Clinton and make the atomic dog an amazing Winston hill a church often in sheltered disuse. Imps and urchins sting the sentiment, cloy the alimony of repentant betterment, but neither touches the gilded skies of pleonasm striving for raspy disguise as to dissuade further diatribe investigation. Lurking in those scared days of youth, the gore of unalloyed horror scourged me with a limp, that compassion itself could ever become a gimp. Now years later athletics better and scoring goals making the mildew sweat and the years wetter, not a global warming that can be alarmed by global mourning. Take peace at heart if distanced spears of separation make Idiocracy as a pastiche look exceedingly smart. And spar only with the true antagonists bridging malevolence with expedience. Killjoys sure, will joy even more sure, but still boys fluttered heart stopping dead at a stop-watched alarm the worst tragedy of our sordid sort. Give an African Child a real home rather than a spatial roam, a palatial desiccation of momentary Jonas Brothers snapping back at captives with sexualized foam.

Narrative blinds shuttered in an Island among mountains hardly ever wiser to sanitize the sanitarium among the wasps of stung power. Police crumple their uniforms as they prowl down the avenues, looking for misfits and widened platitudes. Somehow that the vigilance of those corrupted by their very career choice, look even worse when megalomania of private is the limelight of public, to their defense few turrets I can muster but castles in the sky will be the apartheid judge. Those that cling to virtue to eradicate Porsche-driven faked or real deaths at the most breakneck speed, that Fast & Furious operation if disclosed completely would turn the Shire of the ring into the hatred curtailed by a song in Sing-Sing. Immunity must not Yoda implore, that livery Liverpool marooned on islands can also to deplore the R.E.D. and still whet the sharpened stead and the fly-by-night Manchester United alights like militant peer pressure for wranglers in tights. But beating the Beatles at a game of Walruses and egg-shelled eyeful towers likely impedes rinkside hockey from anything over bellicose ballyhoo…it exists as a transient fixated glower. But who knows about soccer speculation when love is the transcendent temptation, when nest-egg hens rather than neglecting rig Bens of clockwork and clocked words designed arise better for their token ken. Do I must repeat the subtext of submarines, yellowed as though ugly unused as though unseen, as though the quixotic earthquakes of tintinnabulations Avatar dreams. Wafted souls console the disheartened thoughts of a dashed dream that Berlin hates more than a Furor’s unbridled and useless scream.
Demotic clips slinging from the bedridden silence of a token moon and its token friends, swimming in a shore of ambiguity whether history mellows or whether its furor melts away momentary doubts. I want to avoid the sting rays exorcised by due providence and become the amalgamated talents gentry and of course the upstart swagger of Jack Dawson. But with the psy-op going on, the people manipulated on all sides of a gray picket fence will the relationship bloom without muttered dissent or pretended smiles. Will we take upon the shuffled shuttle and dig with shovels deep-rooted Christmas trees and toast our lives to Dos Equis. We may never go out of style, but the treacle of illuminated imagery when divorced from sentiment bristle shows a swagger that prioritizes rather than amalgamates all love. I love being brash and brazen and honest because when she finally ditches the grandstand of delayed frenemies fandoms of other tinsel decorations without any substance beyond meretricious thrill. You want a roller coaster on some days, but most often you want the nutcracker to elope to secret hiding places. Swim with adventure not just in love, not just in affection with the starlight now matter how luminous, sixpence all the richer is no centuries any poorer and we could be that gilded couple of star and screen and if we ever have to scream, let our screams unite us in passion, rather than a milquetoast deference to pedestaled beauty. but of course the end times don’t laugh at your crumpled wizened relapse. Not out of convenience wed by a discriminating genetic harvest moon but a deeper engagement that flatters when stylish and bristles when romantic but never defiled, never riled of specious pretense. Promise me that you will always remember me in my flaws and my faults, in my scause factory destructions and the penults of PEN-ULTIMATE wisdom that comes before the grace of God in the annihilation of passion for eroded omission. If your goal is to be remembered, check that out…but the most admirable goal is as the propinquities of souls dusted in the wind returning to a spring equinox of passion and if you find in yourselves reservations do not depart from sacred land, and never jilt me because of a boisterous and menacing friend. You are everything to me right now, and I Hope this persists despite the vicissitudes of star-favored afflictions mixed with utter benediction without the pontification of stilted Benedictines  or rather the hyped ludic effrontery of termagants being made of younger and younger women. Leave it at this ,32 leaves the royal secret in royal hands and the Knights Templar and us we altogether hold hands, if only a prelude for a masquerade ball. But the stilted embarrassment of crestfallen time, let that be relegated and emphatically lets embrace what is like to not ever need a real white horse to get back into your favor, because we never go out of style we can brandish the best elements and reject the sentiments of the too newfangled and the too stodgy. We in our crenellated pleonasm can eager ride the lightning to another tomorrow and another yesterday and if even not that, we virtually make an indelible impression of embroidered love not too distant in ivory towers and not to vulgary( catering to popular sentiments) to become a trash glam movement. We soar, others deplore but let their purblind doubts render them blind to our burgeoning love.

Forget the brisk trees dangled in the wind on winding paths through haunted forest or remember them because of ghoulish fortress but with our apotropaic lamp we can avert most evil and call the rest fun and gains and shun but fames never profaned, never inalterable a destiny to magical to be some whimpered catcall. Or we could linger beneath lambent street lights disguised as though wilted garb, attrition of circumstance waiting patiently for the matinee and the vintner to escort us beyond the garb of pretense in a city so abundant with it that it deserves castigation. But I digress, a beachside cliff overlooking tepid waters tumultuous in their power but august in their noises, the cadence of love will sing a half-moon bay on full-moon nights and we will frisk each other like grasping at straws of permanent tracks trammeled of the elite and a sidetracked basque bet. Trim those antlers and instead grow metaphorical wings, to us we all sing but few can match your elegance and everyone would be crazy not to see your ennobled age and together thrilling songs to emulate thriller in sales we will collaboratively sing.
Haughty sneers from lifeless lycanthropy straggling furtively along the pastiched sidewalks of grime, livid because they can’t share the lingering limelight, with as many guarded perks of privacy clambering like a hive of snarky sharks. Lets ditch the big town dreams in terms of posh and stature if only for a caressed moment beneath the unadulterated stars and if you find spars **** to the extent they are amiable than I say guess what my name is Lars! Or wait a second, paused in the big city spotlight our stenciled hearts will guide whatever progeny is yours or mine or ours together we will sing the most comforting lullaby, and caves no longer must we abide. Yearn and earn every inch, as I gripe with my delicate saddened pinch but I think the innuendo speaks . Ripen with our trips to Napa, long afternoon sunsets swim in our hearts as we taste the vanguard’s toast on elegant wine.I console with entreaty to disavow the omen of that San Franciscan church October 2008, the doom implied by Einstein, the raillery of a world grinding down the endless decadence of a railed future inalterable in destiny or partialy amenable to widespread coquetry.

Forget those rumbles in your past that made you feel partial to insecurity and learning the ropes you transcended all and live in all eternity. Thimble and brook, tolerant of all those tokes I took your rebellious side flattens the yeast of Exodus raspy in its begrudged clapping. But the Pharaoh of the modern world sheltered me under his prickly thorns, shielded me from the sickly things that life adorns. We have the numbers on our side, the weight of destiny on our shoulders, dedicate yourself to yourself and I will preen the most vibrant wisdom and love will leap like Apollo across all borders not for camel-****** hoarders. We are culminated destiny in the wings of the best daydream
Life, Love and No Mathematics to God and Gain
Draining life to fill it with
watered-down pain, can he feel now? If my teeth make
an appearance, you'll be given your fix of my 'happiness,'
injected through your cranium. I wish I could navigate my
naive wishes, as I'm sinking in my pillows, and the light on
the ceiling is winking at me as I'm patched up, written in 'unhappy'
My uncanny doubts are fancying a feathery gift of sleep,
unlike this fascination with
falling feet to my death of dreams-
It's like I like sadness. I hate it, but I want to cry. I can't anymore. I'm so confused right now with everything in my life, just like this confusing writing.
Tommy Randell Dec 2014
To loosen with my bare hands
the wide air between us
in explaining something of meaning
I almost feel
I am pulling flesh
from the living and moving moments
possible here.

It is somehow breaking
the natural order of things
to use words alone
of all viable means
in setting out the wind-waves and rivulets
of ideas internally flowing -
but I must try and get something out for once.

I circle in bad phrases
prickling with the itchiness of sharing,
I send out a few vague words
horrified and perplexed
at their translation now they are naked
knowing you too listen
and they are at last unalterable.

Deep in the brain, far back
this is my bad time
but I know where the roots go
down into me
and from the storm’s heart
perpetual agitation pumps hand in hand
with calm acceptance.
The self *****, alternately
to fan and to freeze
whatever doubts or unease are burning.
Talk travels the spaces between us
through the clear air
in the kind of silence
surviving bones may know swinging in a wind.

But I know stillness can become alive
when living mouths bring their hearts to bear -
ears can well hear
what the breath has to say,
as the eye sees
the body’s smallest noises -
face to face we are a field of listening.

The warm comes without sound.
This is only the edge of a becoming.
We are not trapped in the lips -
already we lean inward
to know of each other and to give
not words for the wind
but a dance at ease with all that flows.
Your love is algebra
I can't find the formula
If I could find the right calculator,
I could define your euphoria.

Your love is geometry
I can't find the angles
If I could prove your theories,
It wouldn't be a shambles.

Your love is trigonometry
I can't figure it out
If I spent an entire notebook, perhaps
I'd still have doubts.

Your love is a mystery
Just as the greatest math
Although worth much,
Seems irrelevant to my path.
Mazzy Ram Aug 2016
The Doubts,
The constant,
Sporadic,
Persistant,
Doubts.
Riding on a ferris wheel,
Going up and down,
Riding through the wave,
Then all alone in my cave.  
Going up and down.  
The doubts
Come and go,
Set me free,
Then prison me in bitter sprees.
Oh, leave me be.
There is no room for doubt,
That is the key.
Annabel Flemate May 2013
Doubts
In life we all have doubts it's nothing new
but
I have never doubted that I  have loved u

Even when times are tough
and say that I have had enough
I never want to give up.
Christina Hale Mar 2018
I cannot sit still, I cannot stop thinking
My body is fidgety, just picture me anxious
Butch finally called me back
Despite my lack
Of effort to meet her the first time she called
On the day of meeting her and all the gay community, she or her confidence did not seem flawed
I wanted to turn around, I wanted flee, I was so nervous, but to my surprise
The gay community was so warm and welcoming and butch’s firm handshake, poise, and intense glare had me hypnotized

Butch called and now I am in this room getting counseling and all my emotions are coming out
And now I’m feeling confused about school, friends, my sexuality, I don’t know who I am, I am having doubts
Butch better have a good solution for all these emotions she is making me spew out
Because now I’m feeling awful and I am having doubts, yeah I’m having some doubts

So it’s really hard for me to open up and talk because I’m so shy
But butch was nice and all, around her I felt comfortable, I never felt compromised
Butch is like my knight in shining armor or angel in disguise
If she wasn’t so much older than me, I would advert these eyes
So by the end of the session I’m feeling a little better
I have to give it up to butch, she is rather caring and cleaver

Butch called and now I am in this room with her behind a closed door
And I don’t feel so anxious anymore
I’m opening up and all my emotions are coming out
I’m slowly finding out who I am, I’m not having any more doubts
Butch called, butch called
And now I don’t feel so flawed
Butch helped all these emotions come to surface, helped them all come out
And now I feel I can handle anything, school, friends, my sexuality, I know who I am, I am no longer having doubts
slay Aug 2018
Braids in her hair with the beads
So I can always hear her walk away from me
Shorty is a dog like me
No telling when I’ll ever sweep her off her feet

She said, “say less” I was silent
I Guess I had to be reminded
She fell off when my doubts hit
Cause I ain’t never really loved a woman
Until I met you
If I have to confess to you
You’re the only one who got me feelings the feels
Ain’t no other woman
No man I’ve been with
Now I’m asking you to patiently

Hear me cry
Girl, it’s almost over gotta get this out of my system
Say goodnight, girl not so long till youre by my side girl , oh girl

I got this feeling for you
You so unique and you cool
My baby Neek, I’m her fool
She so dramatic, I’m coolin on the way
To her crib, two more lights and bang a left
Like I be banging on the door
Like I be banging on that ***
You so **** precious when you smile
And your nose ring catch the light
From the hallway got the door cracked
You the light of my **** life

Girl, cryyyy
it’s almost over gotta get this out of my system
Say goodnight, girl not so long till youre by my side girl , oh girl

I hit the blunt not to think about you
I wasn’t playing when I said he changed you
***** drop to my knees barstool
And back that *** up let you see it full moon

Gimme some ******* warnin’
You gon’ have me jump out of my skin
Fingers up and down my spine when
You unlatching the clasp of my necklace

Girl, cryyyy
Cause it’s been so long since you were by my side say good niiggghhtttt but truth be told it’s a lie

I’m lying naked in this bed
Thinking of how you look undressed like when them lashes off no ******* on
I taste your name in every breath
Spenser Bennett May 2016
Truth bids, "Fall."
And my shoulders balk

Failure sets my heart
Aware of the blue parts

Carry me home
Buried in hope

Open my eyes
And heal me tonight

I am burdened
With my own hurting

My legs are numb
My lungs succumb

Open my mouth
No voice pours out

I am wasting
Again and again away

Lonely in this house
Of friends, of doubts
JayceeJellies Dec 2014
Your ability to cheer me up is impeccable.
What's more incredible is your beautiful smile.
How do you always grasp my attention so easily?
It's like your inside the air that I'm breathing.

I feel naive wondering if I even stand a chance?
Thinking about you sometimes puts me in a trance.
I can't help but point out that it's completely in vain,
Have you noticed this, or am I just going insane?

And I hope that you can forgive me for shutting you out.
I never really meant to, it was because of my doubts.
Doubts that you'd do that to me at some point I mean,
It's happened so many times that I've become apprehensive.

Afraid; anxious.
Ryan Gonzalez Jan 2015
When the sun hides
the doubts arrive
playing hide and seek
talking behind my ear

Voices clang at pipes
crushing a plumber's work
I try to hide

Playing their game
the doubts find me
simply like a dachshund
searching for badgers

Brutality is enforced
my body beaten raw
like a bowl of dough

My head slaps the floor
as I fall, I see it
blue heels deep in mud
once a savior, now a doubt
You reach 95, scrimping by like church mice,
but then the very night
you win the lottery,
you have massive coronary:
swings & roundabouts.
Lose your lucky penny,
picked up by your arch-en'my,
but he pops his back out.
You wear the weekend crown,
but your boss is new in town:
swings & roundabouts.
If it weren't so stiff,
canvas would wrap chips
in Vince's time.
But a cench later,
Sotherby's sell 'Sunflowers'
for a trillion demon dimes.
I'm gonna be immortal,
I'm gonna die alone:
swings & roundabouts.
Strings & roundabouts.

Adolf eyeing the Eiffel, Christ on the cross:
swings and roundabouts.
******, B in his bunker; Jesus Prince of Heaven:
swings & schweinhunds.
****** is in Hell, Israel's got Stockholm's:
swings & roundabouts.
If ******'s Hell's himself,
how come that's my hell as well,
and I don't even **** limescale.
But worse wuss Judas abuse jurisprudence
- Dr.Jekyll & Judge Judas hyde behind trust,
30 pieces of silver & roundabouts.
Jesus wept, Judas slept in his Jaguar:
silver linings for downandouts.
Snakes & ladders & roundabouts.

O Swings & Roundabouts Vicar, can I have a word
about my doubts!
O Swing & Boutarounds Vicar, can I have a word
about my doubts!
O Bout & Swingarounds Vicar, can I have a word
about my doubts!
O Round & Swingabouts Vicar, can I have a  word  
about my doubts!
Ain't roundabouts roulette of a grazed knee,
but I have nothing against swings...
Horses for courses really.
We began with doubts in the dark night-
Everything that came under the sky of night-
The noiseless stars -that were just flickers
In the crisp air of a deep night and crickets
That creaked from dark and thorny bushes.
We thought of sultry bears that came down
From the hills for ripe sugarcane in fields
On windy nights when we were sleeping
On the river bank, with a long stick safely
Sleeping beside us on a springy string cot.
The dogs sculpted their own long protests
At the howling wind and  bush rat’s scrawl .
There in the sketchy bushes of darkness
The lizards slept fitfully wary of night snakes.
Outside, the fireflies tantalized the country.
Our doubts persisted through the night ,
Going on unabated in sleep and dreams.
At the ****'s crow they dissolved in sleep.
Ivy Haegan Mar 2014
Love me til I'm blue
Catch my every tear
Love me til I'm blue

Swallow me up in blue
Help me touch the clouds
As I breathe in what's true
Save me from my doubts

Swallow me up in blue
Drown me in the sea
The words will come on cue
If you'll let them be

Love me til I'm blue
Cause words are so unclear
Every part of you

Swallow me up in blue
Let me smell the flowers
Forgive all that they do
You've merely got hours

Swallow me up in blue
The earth, sea, and sky
For there are very few
Who have wondered why

Love me til I'm blue
Call my every fear
Love me like you do

Swallow me up in blue
Before my life will end
I've only one to choose
But I can still pretend

Love me til I'm blue
Catch my every tear
Love me til I'm blue
winter sakuras Jul 2018
There is such a place, you know--
one that transcends time and space
and visions of what you're supposed to resemble,
and the limits placed by the digits
of your mortal age.

I can feel the presence of it
in my bones,
where the sky is never ending and liberated
and the sun and moon
can openly converse and love and exist,
without the rules of superiors
who like tragic love stories and twisted histories.

Whatever you decide to do, whatever you decide to feel,
there are no restraints
to keep you from the prospects of flying,
or dreaming,
or embracing things that you had to
let go of in another existence.

There is no fear, confusion, or awkwardness,
no doubts of not belonging,
of not deserving to exist in such a place
where your soul can be pure,
and being able to thrive
without having to try so hard
anymore.

You don't have to try anymore to
be a good person,
because you are one.
You don't have to struggle to hold on to yourself,
you don't have to feign ignorance
or enlightenment.

You can breathe and smile openly,
and every smile is so breathtakingly beautiful that
you glow and transcend above all heavens
and insecurities.

The ground is soft and supportive,
giving way to your feet, that no longer
feel so tired and heavy from having to labor to live,
or from constantly running away
from demons and voices
that tear at your conscience and soul.

No, you can now feel as light as air itself,
soft feet running on sunkissed clouds that
formed from tears of happiness.

When it rains,
you don't have to take cover
for it has already washed away all your sorrows and guilts,
guilts in the forms of hot, suppressed tears
in the failures of your lost ambitions
and stolen discoveries,
guilt from turning away, even when someone
asked you for help.

You can forever venture out here,
to unknown, misty, thriving islands and majestic palaces
far away,
you can do things you never got to do,
for you don't have to pretend
to be someone you aren't.

You don't have to live each day questioning
every single telltale of life.

You don't have to wonder anymore
about why the world can be
such a cruel place,
no matter how many rays of hope
reach into the darkness.

You don't have to wonder anymore,
because here
such misery does not exist,
and the ruins of a good soul
dance as a renewed, enlightened being again.

Above all,
you don't have to live someone else's life
because here, you find yourself
over and over
and over again.
07/09/18

The Green of this particular Nirvana is a component that allows you to love and live freely, with no restrictions or heaviness of people weighed down by the world, and themselves.

Here, you are liberated from the faults of others, and the faults of yourself in a time and place where you were ignorant and lost.

Here, there is no society to degrade you. You can exist solely in harmony with nature.

Edit: Wow, I can't believe this poem got chosen to be the Poem of the Day! I've never received so many likes, comments, and feedback on any of my poems, so I feel overwhelmed, but very happy. Thank you for taking the time to read my words; it really means alot to me <3 <3
Kemy Sep 2018
Umm, the presence and scent of a man
Magnetic attraction where his feet stands
His natural body charismatic aroma
Element of charms, seeping to awaken a woman out a sensual coma
Is it his eyes, the soul behind his life’s mysteries
Flirtation in his smile, tells me he has an undercover ****** history
It is his nose that smells out my charms
An enticing deep baritone voice, his spoken words, which turns me on

Is it the erratic heartbeat he has for a woman, his passionate relent
Stealing my breath, as he tenderly seals my lips in an impassioned moment of content
The strength in his biceps
His triceps
Strong, yet such comforting arms
An epitome of steel, circled around a woman in winter life’s storms
In the cold of night, his body providing your heated warmth

His chest, a hard pillow to tell your doubts, your uncertainties, your fears
Pulling you closer onto it, his reassuring words eradicating your tears
His intellectual mind to think as a man
A stimulating, slam bam and thank you ma’am, or your personal grand slam
His weakening love, taking your body beyond the stars
Woman from Venus, my handsome Man for Mars

His groin, and his family jewels from which it springs forth
Erected compass of his wand now pointing North
A woman’s reservation to tease, please, stroke, or allow it to choke
His loud murmurs shadowing your moans, echoing in the wind
****, I love the presence of men, and his undulated carnal sins
From the first taste of honey dipped Butter ***, me

As his giving oral fixation is traveling free
Freeing the elixir of juices that deems to flee
His hairy legs as he stands to lift my weight
In the shower, no wait, as I anticipate
Hooking my twerking bait
His physique in general…Oh, God thank you
Without the scent of a man, we women would not know what to do

Your presence to a woman is our earthly food
Our je ne sais quoi for our every ****** mood
Rather you are standing, lying still, or upside down
The blissful 69 number conquered as we’re fooling around
My Dream Weaver
My distance heartbeat receiver

His dripping sweat
Droplets to my skin have been met
The presence and scent of a man holds me throughout the night as our eyes finally rest
The best smell in the world is that man that you love.

Jennifer Aniston
Äŧül Feb 2014
No doubts need to be tamed babe, just hold on for some time till we are actually face to face. It's obvious that we are still quite young and the world will think of us accordingly. You needn't get worried.

The sky which is overcast right now will be all clear in near future. You needn't hurry and to err buddy. Instead you need to keep in mind that we're inseparable by that hidden string which binds both of us together.
Not a poem, but only a letter requesting you to have some patience. Focus on today, do whatever it takes to show all of them that you have it in you. Stand at a taller position than they expect you to be at currently.

Don't worry.
Alan McClure Sep 2011
I am not wracked by doubts:
I am enlivened,
enthralled
and awakened by them.
Joe Wilson Oct 2014
...nagging doubts (quelled)...

He arrived and saw her all alone
And wondered if she felt lonely too
Or if she had come here to their place with him
But then their eyes met and he just knew.

He still could feel the love of old
And hurt still from what she had done
But something told him she still cared
<em>Say something now or be undone.</em>

He slowly walked across the crowded room
His head still full of nagging sway
But seeing her so vulnerable, his heart reached hers
He took her hand and chased his doubts away.

Many years since that time have passed
Their love has grown and grown and grown
And of that time so long ago
They remember but keep their thoughts their own.


©Joe Wilson - ...oh the misplaced doubts of young men...2014
Alexander S Mar 2010
Do you still have doubts that us having
faith makes any sense?
I know what its like to Love, to
Understand it in a way no one else does.
And I know what its like to have to, to
feel the need to hide every kiss like it’s
a sin against humanity.
Not once, but twice, I’ve shielded myself
And her because the common conventions
Of a society too dim to light even the
Darkest room made it wrong.
The faith was unmistakable the first time,
And it resonates even stronger now
Four years apart, but you’re the one
Like a game of pickup sticks
Played by ******* lunatics
Do you still have doubts that us having
Faith
Makes any sense?
Inspired by the song "Show Me Love," by t.A.T.u.
Erin Roma Dec 2016
A yearning she cannot fathom
A whole 'nother level, she was mind blown
Hoping to blind herself with deception
Perpetually drowning in confusion

Said that she would never again be ****** with your sorcery
So everyone told her to be extra wary
But I guess that's a quality she lack entirely
Now she's drowning in confusions, perpetually

She never planned a pursuance
Though the force is strong, 'twas only a nuisance
She saw your face, she was caught in a trance
Perpetually drowning in confusion, an abundance

This animal is in dire need of suppression
And so she did, filling herself with depression
But then the prey showed a different sign of intention
Now she's perpetually drowning in confusion

Your sudden interest seems unfitting
Could it really be? So close to believing
It opened more, showed more, she's heeding
In perpetual confusion, she is drowning

She was taken aback, this impossibility
Yet you opened it wider, the eventuality
Or so she was led to believe, the absurdity
The confusion is drowning her in perpetuity

Doubts, doubts, doubts were running
In her head, seconds from wilding
But you calmed her fears, ever growing
Deeper in perpetual confusion, she's drowning

With every positive response of yours
She was driven crazy, hoping for more
For a moment, it felt certain, she was sure
Perpetually drowning in confusion, no more

Now her true self was put into question
For the longest time, involuntarily shunned
Is she truly worthy of this identification
Perpetually drowning in confusion

She was quite lost in traffic
The signals were all but messed up
Wandering around like some lunatic
She's clueless of what's true enough

Perpetually drowning in confusion...
You were a swimmer...
Yet you never even bothered to save her.
aniket nikhade Oct 2016
Success is sweet to taste, however consistent efforts need to be made
Efforts need to be made to make sure the sweetness of success remains in mind for over a long period of time, later on becoming part of the memory.

When efforts are made doubts are raised, since each and everyone has his own way of getting things done
Doubts result in question in order to find a better way with regards to what is going on in the mind at the present moment in time.

Definitely at one point in time it seemed that all efforts were made to gain success, but later on with time intentions change for the sake of short term gain.

Questions are asked in one or many different ways so as to clear the doubts that are raised
Questions need to be answered, since doubts need to be resolved.

In one way or other, it’s always better to walk in a straight line without depending on shortcut,
since when shortcuts are taken it might lead to a failure,
if not a complete diaster,
later on resulting into a blame game.
Definitely there is no shortcut to success.

Questions are asked when there is a doubt in the mind
Remarks are made when questions are not answered, the way in which they should have been answered in the first place.

Later on things change
As of now in the present,
arguments and counterarguments is part of the game
Conflicts and contradictions is also part of the game,
if not tradition with regards to the doubt that is raised and also with regards to the question that needs to be answered.

Business runs as usual,
since now it’s time to make a gain from the controversy that’s been made,
if not created,
which somewhere down the line was related to the question that was initially raised.

Now time will take it’s own course before everything finds it’s original place
However till then game of what if and what if not will gain a firm ground
It will be continued to be played between different groups having different players playing in their own way and for their ownsake.
The game continues.

Most of the the time when a controversy is created, efforts are always made to make sure nothing remains hidden,
however,
finally it’s truth that will bring an end to everything going on with regards to the doubt that was raised

Truth will reveal all the right and wrong with regards to everything that is going on in the mind and in this process it will settle down everything,
not only the controversy that was created,
but also the doubt that was raised.

Definitely truth is stranger than fiction, but also need of the hour since it will provide the answer to the question was raised with regards to the doubt going on in the mind.
The best ammunition against lies is the truth, there is no ammunition against gossip. It is like a fog and the clear wind blows it away and the sun burns it off. ~Ernest Hemingway
GS White Jun 2011
I’m inside whale bones
I’m outside my mind
I have doubts and I have fears
I have thoughts that don’t stop
Thoughts that pierce my chest like a pin cushion
Clenching my stomach in their fists
Thoughts that go round and round in circles
Thoughts that don’t drip
Out from the holes in my head
Like every other word that comes to my lips
Thoughts that don’t die,
No matter how much I wish they were dead

“Throw away logic, if it helps,
Enter abstract, no boundary thought
Grow wild
Return to the earth and think only in
Butterfly dances
Not silken sounds of past and future loves
The harsh realities of the present have deep roots in your skin
And their flowers bloom into
Doubts and fears
And above all else,
Should be ignored
Like bullies on school grounds
For the seeds that are dropped will grow and bloom again
Unfaltering, unwavering
So long as the have sun and water
Fed by confusion, watered and told to grow
Ignore them
For to let your doubts and fears
Grow and bloom again and again
Like never ending waves of soldiers on beaches
With the sun hidden beneath the earth
Is no way to live.”

I’m inside whale bones
I’m outside my mind
Trapped in separation
Trapped in old age’s waiting arms
My body too young to die
So death waits for it to catch up to my mind
And there is no fountain of youth
That my thoughts can drink from
Making them young again
Forcing carefree upon them
Forcing fairytales and irony
Feather headdresses and no shoes
Walking through the mud because it’s cool
And prevents the needles from piercing your skin
And the sun from burning it

“So face the sun
Because you can
Stop with the doubts and fears
Stop the old age from creeping though your mind
You are young but you have thought too much
You have thought too many years ahead of your time!”

I’m inside whale bones
I’m outside my mind

“Break the bones that imprison you
And with your new found freedom,
And your new found arms and legs,
Moving, again, for the first time
Chase your mind
And hold on to it tight
Hold on like it’s the last thing you’ll ever let go
Interlock your fingers
And hold on
Like it’s love,
Something we both know you never want to be without
Something we both know because you said it yourself,
It’s the one thing that reminds you that you’re still young
That your mind hasn’t gone with the dinosaurs,
So hold on like it’s the last penny that you haven’t bet yet
Hold on, and become one, not two
Break the whale bones that imprison you
And with your new found freedom,
Sit still,
Become you, one with yourself, young like your body is.”
An Insight, in Two Parts of Myself
Joe Wilson Oct 2014
To be free of this nagging doubt
Oh to be free of this pain
I know that I'll never miss her
I don't want to see her again.

Why beat myself then I wonder
Could it be there is still a spark
She was cruel and she hurt me on purpose
And yet...

I don't know now, I loved her so deeply
The days pass much slower now she's gone
Even now I still can't forget her
Till I do I'll never move on.

If I go to our old haunts I'll see her
I wonder if she'll still be with him
I can't bear to think of or to go there
But the chances I won't are so slim.

I'll just watch some telly and forget her
I'm sure there's some pointless tat on
But the nagging doubts are driving me crazy
I give in, my coat's already on...



©Joe Wilson - ...nagging doubts...2014
Yule Mar 2017
noong una kitang nasilayan
inaamin kong hindi ikaw ang nais kong kamtan
ngunit habang tumatagal,
puso ko’t loob, sayo’y natuluyan

hindi ko rin alam kung bakit
dahil ba sa boses **** nakakahumaling?
o sa mga matatamis **** mga ngiti?
mistulang nawawala ang iyong mga mata
sa tuwing ito’y iyong gawin
di ko alam, pero simpleng titig mo lamang
ka’y laki na ng epekto nito sa akin
hanggang sa palagi na kitang hinahanap-hanap
aba’t ginayuma mo nga ba ako?

ngunit, kung ano't saya ang nadarama
ganoon din ang kapalit nito kapag nandyan ka
sa mga panahon na wala ka sa tabi
pasakit at dalilubho ang naranas
bakit ba hindi ko kayang sayo ay mawalay?
ngunit kailangan kong magtimpi at alamin
kung hanggang saan lang dapat ang hangarin

ngunit aking nagunita,
ikaw talaga ang natatangi sa puso, at tuwina
ngunit kung gusto ko ring makaalpas sa sakit
kailangan ika’y kalimutan
sa gayon ay baka matagpuan ang kalinaw

pero ang alaala ng kahapon ay sadyang bumalik
kahit saan man magpunta, ika’y naka-aligid
kung alam mo lang ang aking tinahak
pagod, at hirap – naranas upang sayo’y makalapit

ngunit ano ba pa ang magagawa?
sa una pa lang, nagmahal ng isang tala
at kung bigyan man ng pagkakataon
mas pipiliing sarili ay ibaon
lahat ng nararamdaman
na hindi mo rin kayang ipaglaban

dahil hindi mo rin naman ako mahal,
mas mahal mo ang iyong pangarap
at hindi ako yun, ito'y tanggap

sakim man sa kanilang paningin
ikaw lang naman ang gusto ko
ngunit, bakit? bakit…
ipinagkait pa sa akin ng mundo?
pero ito ang nagpapatunay
na kahit gaano pa ako kailangan na maghintay
para sayo'y hindi ako nararapat
dahil tunay nga ba ang aking intensyon?
o ginagawa lamang kitang desisyon?
tingnan mo nga, miski ako may pagdududa

kahit man ito’y pag-ibig natin ay isusugal
kahit gaano ko pa ipagsamo sa Maykapal
wala rin naman itong mahahantungan
hindi rin naman ako ang iyong kailangan

kaya't ito'y hahayaang dalhin ng langit,
kung saan mang lupalop ito'y dalhin
pinaubaya sa Maykapal,
antayin na lang maglaho
ito ang aking huling habilin,
bago kitang tuluyang iwan

pero ito'y mananatiling nakaukit
sa puso't isipan,
dahil kaya nga ba kitang kalimutan?

ito’y magsisilbing alaala
ng minsan nating pagsasama,
kahit sa panaginip lamang

ang ipagtagpo ang isang ikaw at ako,
ang mabuo ang salitang 'tayo' –
napaka-imposible…
napaka-imposible.

eng trans:
when I first saw you
I admit you're not the one I yearn for
but as time passes by
my heart, and mind – fell for you

I don't really know why
is it because of your alluring voice?
or because of your sweet smiles?
it's as if your eyes disappear
whenever you do this
I don't know but in your simple stares
it has a big impact on me
until I'm always looking for you
oh my, did you put a spell on me?

but in what happiness I felt
that's what I also feel whenever you're there
in times that you're not beside me
pain and dreading was experienced
why can't I stand being apart from you?
but I have to resist and know
to where I should stand in line

yet I've realized
you're the one that's always in my heart
but if I want to get rid of this pain
I have to forget you
by then I might find peace

but the memories of yesterday kept coming back
everywhere I go, you're there
if only you knew what I've been through
exhaustion, and rigor – I have to face to get close to you

but what can I do?
from the start, I've loved a star
and if given a chance
I'd rather choose to bury myself,
all these feelings
that you're not even willing to fight for

because you don't even love me,
you love your dream more
and it's not me, I've accepted it

it may be selfish in their eyes
you're the only one I want
yet, why? why...
did the world denied + you from me?
but this just proves
that no matter how long I have to wait
I'm not the one for you
because is my intention real?
or am I just making you a decision?
see? even I have doubts

even if I gamble this love of ours
even if I plea from the Creator
this will just go nowhere ++
I am not the one you need

that's why I'll just let the sky take this
wherever in the heavens this will be held
let the Creator take charge
I'll just wait for it to fade
this is my last will
before I will leave you

but this will remain etched
in my mind, and heart
because can I truly forget you?

this will serve as a memory,
of our once encounter
even if it's just in a dream

for you and me to meet,
to form the word 'us' –
it's so impossible,
**it's impossible
+ finding a translation I wanted for this was hard
++ even this //brainfart

suntok sa buwan (from ph; fil.)
lit.trans: hitting the moon; punching the moon
actual meaning: impossible

this was my entry for our "spoken poetry",
though none can relate...

pasensya na, mahal...
unti-unti, ako'y bibitaw na. | 170303

{nj.b}
Perched upon a corporate throne,

We march into the great unknown

As wasted words of gossip drone

And steel replaces brick and stone.
Soon you find yourself alone

In crowded streets with a global phone,

Doing a random strangers bidding.



A means to an end they say,

As poor men die while rich men play,

When honest work brings modest pay,

And doesn't last 'em through the day

Though profiteers in moral grey 

Flood the airwaves to in turn say,

"Our wealth simply paves  the way,

Tomorrow is your salvation day,

You want peace? Then war is only fitting."



Look and you will see

Money buys democracy,

The Citizens United, see?

If we knew the truth, would we agree?

Those answers are not  going to be

Yes or no but more likely

Maybe, perhaps, or possibly,

Because in reality,

Right and wrong are just kidding.



To those who fret the plagues we face,
Yet believe we can change this place,
Who stifle doubts about the Human Race,
And yearn to be together in this chase,
With subdued pride and envy, in every case,

Seeking common goals to found the base,

May we lay the evil plots to waste,

For evils clients who once stood are now sitting.



The time is now, make a stand
,
Pull our heads out of the sand

Call their bluff with a hidden hand

Of virtue they don’t quite understand,
Defy procedure’s they have planned
,
Unite across the lines that brand,

Refuse all prejudice, none may be accepted.



Some know for they already looked

And the flow of money keeps them booked,

Takes but once to have them hooked,

Setting the table with food uncooked

For others whose foundations shook

Are pitted against the small time crook

Hoping only that we be protected

.

Hark the sounds of rebellious cries

For those that call, they realize

All that lives sure enough dies
But when displeased we close our eyes

To the masters of disguise

Who think their profit justifies

The invisible hand growing in size

While their strings attached go uncorrected



They kept us quiet all the while

Waiting with numbers dialed

To put the innocent to trial

Lining up in single file

To be cast into the same old pile

None willing to lay down their tile,

Casting shadows upon their guile,

The double agent mercantile,

Lobbying candidates to endorse.



All I ask, is to what do we base belief?

Dying children get no relief

Oil poisons the coral reef

Prophecy of the fallen chief

Given a thought but a bit too brief
Together a tree, alone but a leaf
Although it is all who feel the grief

Of our actions consequential course



Corrupted elites discuss our goals

So we continue to dig our holes

To depths that darken souls

Rigging markets to decide our roles

Assumptions made so that greed controls

They draw their graphs till the pencil dulls

Then add a factor, see how that goes

Without even the slightest feeling of remorse



Growth is sacred, but is it moral?

Strengthen reason yet we quarrel

Over falsities of ***** oral

Arrangements like that of floral

Remedies but not doctoral

Blood of fallen lives pastoral

Remind that we’re all mortal

But all thereafter bear the force.



So please tell me at what cost?

In a moments past our objectives lost

Compassion was our hand now tossed

Lines we’ve drawn, lines we’ve crossed

How much dirt can be washed

From our conscience we exhaust

Before shattering glass of fate we sloshed?

Working from the scattered pieces back to the source



It is us who blindly lead the strut

We are the source and nothing but

Whose center point is one giant rut

Where false desires cracked and cut

And the selfish feed an endless gut,

When our culture begins to split and jut,

We might finally ask... It was all for what?
Inspired by the great Bob Dylan. I refer you to the song “It’s Alright Ma’”
Ken Pepiton Mar 2018
Anom o ly

Non-named, never imagined much less realized

The left hand can't know what the right is doing,
it's a brain matter, grey area, may be a way to
imagine your unique. task, yours, not doable from here

We can do things as us that we never imagine alone.

Is there a need to negate, wait, think,
must one do any act?
Now, I see, emulating Socrates is thought easier than
emulating Jesus. Christ, you know that ain't easy, eh?

Death is the friend of being. Things change from time to time
but, you know knowledge grows in two directions,
the dark part is not evil.
evil is as evil does. The roots that ever live in the earth,
those roots are required, requirements.

Left brain uses the right hand. Don't tell the left-hand
that nearly all it's skill in serving
and being used right,
is used up by the other side.
Right or wrong, is not a chiral question,  nor is good or bad. ******* Phillips's head screws with a butter knife is wrong.
It can be done right, but not if you turn it the wrong way.
Drawing on the right side of my brain has always symbolized a crossroads experience, in my mind.
I mean I draw, realistically, with my right hand, left brain.
Maybe, brains are no easier to analyze than time in an immaterial medium of messaging.

I am certain life wins.
Meaning everything you think life means.
Do you think evil is required as an activity for life to actively be?
I doubt that.
Death fixes everything. Fret not. Wait.

First make room, what was the Bronte word? Penetrium, no, cut n paste
[A]t once it struck me what quality went to form a Man of Achievement, especially in Literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously - I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason - Coleridge, for instance, would let go by a fine isolated verisimilitude caught from the Penetralium of mystery, from being incapable of remaining content with half-knowledge.

From <https://www.etymonline.com/columns/post/cloud-of-uknowing>

Happiness demands an agreement
Joy is in process, I agree, I am happy, haps happen and I notice

Note: Bronte was one to tweak fine puns with the word Penetralia: 1. The innermost parts of a building, especially the sanctuary of a temple. 2. The most private or secret parts; recesses: the penetralia of the soul. See Chapter one, Wuthering Heights.
----- From
bronteblog.blogspot.com/2006/03/emilys-penetralium_03.html
I checked 13 months later:Before passing the threshold, I paused to admire a quantity of grotesque carving lavished over the front, and especially about the principal door; above which, among a wilderness of crumbling griffins and shameless little boys, I detected the date ‘1500,’ and the name ‘Hareton Earnshaw.’  I would have made a few comments, and requested a short history of the place from the surly owner; but his attitude at the door appeared to demand my speedy entrance, or complete departure, and I had no desire to aggravate his impatience previous to inspecting the penetralium.
Amitav Radiance Jun 2015
Strong winds may uproot you
Unsettle your stoic resignation
You will be shaken and stirred
Lot of ponderings and doubts
In the middle of nowhere
When gravity does not give hope
Become a fearless traveler
Encounter the strong winds
No matter where you settle
Continue to spread your roots, deeper
Your soul is still with you
Nothing can stop you from reliving
Every unsettling episode
Will teach you to be more resilient

— The End —