"dramatized" poems
Iguana of diamonds,
Sand sea and sun,
Little children in sight,
Attractions of light,
Natives of love,
Decorative cities, what night.
Island’s of the Bahamas beauty as can be,
What more fun than playing with dolphins in the sea.
Creative costumes, dancers so bright,
The music dramatized, Feel the rush it’s a site.
Nothing more beautiful than the island themselves,
Well except the people willing to give help.
Pineapples, peas and rice, pink sand, flamingoes, and some conch salad,
Not forgetting the “KALIK,” cause’ “IT’S A BAHAMIAN TING”.
Blue, Black and Aquamarine, was just described to you,
All in the Islands Love.
Come and enjoy the exciting experience too!
My Bahama Land!
©
Nov 4, 2010
Nov 4, 2010 at 7:33 AM UTC
My poems idealize your tongue on my tongue
your breath in mine,
these verses will romanticize how we skipped from street to street
our arms swinging between your left hip and my right
like I did not think about how my parents
never doubled their strength to pull me up above ground as
we walked through parking lots. I
needed to fly and no adult could let me but you.
The sudden hurt, I have not yet dramatized that morning
you returned my voicemail unsuspecting
unknowing my intention to whisper I hate you I hate you I hate you.
Every bone in my body had broken because we could not
levitate any longer: you were not even strong
enough to keep yourself grounded. I make you sound beautiful
I make you sound ugly, but neither is real, just as
how there are no words for the New Year ball dropping.
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
Love, it's isn't like the movies.
And nothing like a Disney's cartoon.
Yes, you might find your Prince Charming.
And your Cinderella too.
Just realize, love isn't like the movies.
Or like one of those old religious drama.
Where the King visualized his Queen?
Or anything shown like the royals dramatized dreams.
Once reality kicks in and you adjust.
Then you come to the realization.
Love only works when you put your hard work effort into it.
You'll have disagreements.
You'll have arguments too.
Just remember, love isn't like the movies.
And it shouldn't be.
When it comes to you.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 9:51 AM UTC
I am never not surprised,
when someone else has the courage to look me in my eyes,
to tell me bald-faced lies,
that say I am too dramatized
as a white girl trying to equalize
and see the world before me rise
to say we're not satisfied
to say with honesty we despise
a government who seems to tyrannize
its citizens into fearing they be deprived
of food, water, and electricity. So they have to believe in the guise.
That we are a nation paralyzed.
By lies.
I am just a twenty two year old, Caucasian female
addicted to the idea I can help you see we will prevail.
Our nation teeters on the brink.
Help me save our souls,
Before they take us out like MLK, Lennon, JFK
All with a blink.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
I am a dramatized china doll,
but I never rouge my knees.
The MC introduces me as Scarlett.
Lulu embraces me as we saunter
off the platform. Whistles follow my footsteps
digging into my brain, fermenting,
to strong wine.
Gentlemen enter the club to leer
at cabaret girls dancing in lace.
Some are drawn to the boys of the club,
the ones in the dark corners with kohl-rimmed
eyes and eager kisses.
From their seats in the dimness, the audience
fails to notice rips in my blouse, cigarette
butts smudged out in the wings. No one
sees the ***** face powder spread out
among the lighted mirrors, overused,
my own makeup dried out.
Their giggles and applause keep
the club alive, filled with dead
grins from dinner to dawn.
Drum roll—my turn.
We rid them of their troubles.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC
We blink quickly,
so that we miss nothing,
we compact an entire lifetime within an allotted time of two hours and a small two minute window for creditentials that acknowledge 1,326 people,
not including "special thanks,"
we indulge on the dramatized events that may or may not have happened, We thrive on sports that televise a group of ten to twenty-two grown men that run fast jump quickly, and
dance weirdly,
but that is the pursuit of thrills
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
The acoustic guitar plays softly, in the background of a critiqued ball room as he made his entrance. The attention of the audience fell upon him; As he walked readily towards the dance floor, The melody of the flute and the rhythm of the bass guitar, Dramatized his beauty. The spectators in fear, but his passion so real, As I stared into his eyes, that made beauty felt unreal everything else that surrounded me disappeared. He focused his eyes on the dance floor they began to whisper; Who will he choose? Who has to leave now? He flashed his eyes upon the viewers that were once in shock, now in terror, but their ****** expression in awe. The apothegm states that he continually seeks for the one that would heal his disease but bound to the power of the earth’s forces, his determined, stunning eyes will never be able to reveal, the secret one that can heal. The bass drums play wildly as he shows the crowd his fury. The once stunned viewers now begin to panic, but I draw myself closer. Before I could reach him someone else got in the way. “I would like to die” was the words I know her to repeatedly say. He gently pushed himself away in anger. He looked around the ball room, and observed the reaction of the audience to his response. They’re now in astonishment. He then stopped and his focal point was clear. The piano and the cello played softly to become one with his voice. He said to me “let us dance.” I’m frightened, the majority of the onlookers left in a daze. My vision weakened before our dance began. He smiled, and as he looked upon my face all the instruments faded away. He said to me is this your last dance? Will you leave us tonight? I’m the kiss of death will you close your eyes forever or will you leave me in delight?”
Nov 19, 2009
Nov 19, 2009 at 9:39 AM UTC
Strangers to the touch:
he was fast to dive into
the waves that were
indeed
his briny deep.
She, whom took
his complexion into
the trench that is her,
also took the senile
artistry that was he,
recklessly.
Strangers to the act:
he took the palm
of his over-dramatized
antagonist of his own
life and just
pressed it.
She caressed the
thought of it,
yet still arose
to find her most
fragile protagonist
grazing his head
on the
adolescent but corrupt
land line that made up
as her thighs.
*Strangers they must be,
though, strangers
whom have
found need in
the halves that have
halves in half.*
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
Don't.
Don't tell me not to do drugs,
If you plan on becoming one.
You say,
"It will use up all of your time,
take all of your money,
leave you hanging when you need it most,
abandoning the destoyed masterpiece that you once were."
You told me,
"Stay strong."
"Be above the influence."
"You'll get addicted, stay away."
But what you didn't tell me was how addicting you were.
How did you expect me to "stay strong" against our 4 am phone calls,
when you'd tell me you loved me and all the things I was to become.
How was I supposed to "be above the influence" when you made a move,
running your cold, large hands up and down my shirt.
and finally
How did you have the nervous to say "you'll get addicted, stay away," when in the end I was addicted,
addicted to something you finally gave me,
something called love.
But according to you love is
overrated and highly dramatized,
but by the time I knew that you were my drug,
you had already wasted 2 years of my time,
spent all of my money,
hung me out to dry,
and abandoned me, leaving me a destroyed and unwanted
masterpiece.
abandoned masterpiece // a.s.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 9:59 PM UTC
riding out the highs of life
with manic ferocity
until
the minutiae of life
drag you down into the depths of despair
a pure loyalty like no other
hidden by a dramatized emotional facade
always there to bring you up,
simultaneously bringing themselves down
it's a slippery slope--
emotional support
Oh, to be Mercutio--
is to be the eye of a hurricane,
winding about a center
--that may not be
as stable as it seems
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 8:33 PM UTC
The sunny day of January invited the sun's radiation that burns skin as fire could burn through paper.
Perhaps that was why everything we planned was a heat-up and dramatic hope.
Perhaps like the partly burned coal, our hope too burns itself to the emptiest cinders of all.
The hopeful plan we once had was dramatized to create illusions of the fantasy we'd like to live in, but a reality that we could not create because the reality is, we are nothing but the matter of expired fire.
We are the ashes of what we left behind.
We may have stopped giving off flames, but we still have some combustible matter in us; and soon, what follows is, for the better - an explosion, or for the worst - an implosion.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC
I have a vision
Of a future
Bright, joyous,
And the contrast of sorrow
Children skipping, giggling
Darkness and light
Musical notes drifting through
Dramatized passion, hilarity
Nature surrounding
Encapsulated in cobweb of love and support
Unfortuna-mentally
I am at once terrified of settling
- being tied down
Losing independence, individuality
Missing dreams
- at once terrified
And at once yearning
With all of me
For a family
For a dream of forever
To settle and begin such a masterpiece
To commit to
And be certain of
The depth there in
Something more important than me or mine
To dedicate self
Surrender
Sacrifice for
And again such a venture requires a partner
Who shares the dream
Enriches the dream
Supports the dream.
Contradictions, aren't we all?
Or am I just yearning for the erasure of self
Through divine love?
Aah~ maternal instincts!
Life of mine,
Live out the step you're in
Young one
Before you yearn and plan for the next!
So fresh and yet to begin
- Society's great work machine awaits
And the experience of other lands!
Life of mine,
Live the experience of now
Fully
Grow all the more for it
Feel each pain and joy
Clarify mind
Build strength of self
Claim a sense of identity
See where it takes you...
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
I said goodbye
she helplessly cried
full of me
for the first time
Teardrops of
the other
by the other
Not to impress
or annoy
the canvas
of the truth of I
remained untouched
but
this uttermost cry was
maybe a cheek warming
Silent expression just
in the conscious presence
of both
embraced by both
Goodbye to this roof that welcomed
our dreams…
Goodbye to this roof that
accommodated our flows
cries
highs
ties
pies
spies
allies skies
I s
Eyes
Aiaiai s ….
All of her dramatized stories
that agonize
are
to be capsized
to emphasize -
harmonize -
energize
so that
I s
are re centralized
re authorized
along the curly hum
For the game!
like the newborn tree
growing inside of me now
of
Me ?
me again?!?
but
I need not much of these anymore
and such are all things
that gave breath to us :
the in/sentient
courageously left behind
for a cry that bore generations
and such is her’s now
A means
that helped me grow
towards this no thing thing
and You
You ?
But you…
…?
An immortalized posture of a shoulder shrug!
Nothing more
and nothing less
You - as love apart
but still with me
by each one of my shoulder shrugs
like the nameless sage of shoulder shrugs
In the western ‘who cares’ style….
We are so good at that!
So …
so ?
Be proud just!
to be commemorated as such
I will Never
pick a wildflower again
to place in my beloved vase
I did it only twice
Shamefully
Watching the truth die
Instantaneously
and no we do not like duality
But there will NOT be a third time
for such sad action
You have my word on that
I walk now alone
content with a song
of a bird welcoming
my accord
Carrying your light
in my heart
Plainness is my courage
I know you now
Your love rains
beads of truth
shaping words
of peace
that I read
incessantly
as us
knowing my duty
I go
go now
Taking nothing
Needing nothing
Leaving all
Things and
Insightful of
no things
I am you
With you
Listening
Just
to these
final
immaculate
droplets
of hers
before she willingly dies
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 10:35 AM UTC
I Romanticize
And visualize
The Real eyes
Full of Despise
So Dramatized yet
Can't Realize the
Real Lies so quick
Disguised by
Their Improvised
Alibis that will arise
When ice flame dies
baptized by
Unholy flies now
Desensitized by
So blessed by those
Bedeviled Snake eyes
That traumatize,
Yet tantalize my soul
And likewise,
These ****** skies
Sorrowed demise,
Was brought upon by
White lies.
Now tainting lives,
Once colorized,
so grey.
Your eyes.
Beloved Reprise
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 1:10 AM UTC
Numbing your mind
Is a temporary resolve
For a nagging conscience
When you know
It's not your composition
But a sad love song
In a minor-key
Dramatized music
That floods the soul
Until the walls break
And dry tears turn
Into a flash flood
Exasperating the ache
Exposing the wound
Ripping it open
Numbness resolved
Love evolved
But in the end....
Meaningless, if not returned
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 2:31 AM UTC
Thieving and burglary - deliberate
indulgent, ignorance, waste of opportunities - deliberate
drinking, loose morals, bad company, drugging - deliberate
lazy, stupidity, state dependency in viable health - deliberate
babies for welfare payments, employment avoiding - deliberate
hate, envy, jealousy, lies, slander, crimes, drunkenness - inadequacies
Racism, ignorance, small mindedness, pettiness, belligerence - Low scale inherent characteristics
Betrayal - engineered
Loss of employment and brilliant career ruination - engineered
alone and social isolation - engineered
lack of intimate relationship - engineered
Rudeness, screams, fractured relationship - engineered
economic stagnation - engineered
Physical limitations - engineered
In the woke civilisation of the great Island
Psychopaths Social and structural Engineers march in Red
In raving anodyne tones the entitled ivories do the twist
Please ignore all the listed deliberate glaring omissions above
No! you see in deluded grandeur
Its time for the blame game, its time for the blame game
Its all the fault of the immigrant
who studied and worked to make a better life
especially that black successful one
with everything just going well for him
we didn't boat him on on the Windrush
He's not cleaning our roads or in the factory
He's not fetching and wiping **** in the Hospital
He's not even into crime and supplying our drugs
No! No! No!
He is a leech and a parasite
He is responsible for our miserable uninspiring life
Comrades, join us, the Revolution is now
They say I suffer, I have pain
How can I, I wonder
when its all your engineered and dramatized work
of which I am not in the least responsible!
And you know it!
Narcissists, Psychopaths, Depressives, Mentally challenged loonies
We give you your Revolution, please enjoy the spoils!!!
Aug 25, 2019
Aug 25, 2019 at 7:23 AM UTC
I want to explore your womanhood.
I want to take your mental essence to higher plateaus.
I want to kiss you in the most sensual place.
My desire for you is driving me crazy. No need to worry love the time has come.
I am yours for now and beyond.
Here I am standing before you.
I am yours to adore. Give me some *** Make me wet.
I am yours to fulfill. Let’s enjoy ourselves. Let us make love in the moonlight.
My body yearns for yours. Your body yearns for mine.
We are both dramatized to captivate each other minds.
Give me some ***
Come to me with your fine ***
Make love to me between these satin sheets.
Please me. Shh, say no more.
Just a mind ***
I am yours.
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 3:19 AM UTC
Reminding myself that I am not alone
in thinking there is a collective conscience
library that has been made accessible, but
to readers, only, and within that set,
to readers who read for life, to live,
letterly, let be, let see, let say, what if,
or wonder if, let us see, let us say, today
where you were when I was in process
as an explanation
of an adversarial approach, a strategy,
accessing a push that has come to shove
me into your comfort zone, to force a will,
a will submitted to that thing you profess
to know is too true to think two ways,
trick is, digesting suggested gulps taken,
earlier in our mindstreaming, thinking sure,
the good, the good
in being alive, good for nothing at any rate,
making no thing, seem likely how as spirit
feels, loosed, to seem likely why we think
we breathe, half time in, half time out,
day by day, we live and breathe, and assume
the position we were led to believe, ours
to hold as true, for the rest of ever after,
our purpose on earth, laughs in our heart,
and wipes a grin across our face,
and once more
-wordflow slows, so back up,
can occur,
yes, imagine the loss,
back up, clogs old reasons
arterial distinctions excused
as essential legacy worth sets
where your treasure lay unseen…
earnest as any disguised gay Nineties
entertainer on the society pages,
lo, long after Turing was made example of…
- rude gay abandonment, so sad, liar
dies to convince some school board,
we all make up minds, we all may let such be,
scriptural, let it be written, thus it becomes,
for those who know it, this is it, do as we say,
or die, as seen when tyrants are dramatized,
on TV for all to watch, minimum reading cost,
to bring the masses together in one mindframe,
withing our gestalt Earth earth mindshare,
through wishable otherwise moments
we make bend with a laughing what,
twist, and spin, and twist and spin, thinking
ifery was were ours, see, we agree and think
a free minute,
and let it fly, to become another just
in time right move, made with no prejudicial
estimation of the attention cost needed to use
a free minute.
Sep 7, 2024
Sep 7, 2024 at 1:04 PM UTC
Having googled and failed to find the right metaphor
to express this all too familiar phase in life,
the alarmingly low levels of self-esteem
conveniently stepped up to suggest,
a fresh pineapple at the local supermarket
during the harshest of Finnish winter.
Its exotic and festive look draws attention,
everyone wants a bite but no one knows how the **** to peel it.
So they observe with great curiosity from just far enough,
to avoid touching the prickly leaves or skin.
The go to center piece of any, maybe just hipster, parties,
misplaced on top of an excruciating variety of pizzas,
spiking Sangria since the beginning of time,
and most appreciated upside down on cakes.
It draws attention and triggers discussions,
but no one knows what to do or how to feel about it,
except to watch with keen interest from a dramatized distance,
and take the canned stuff home instead.
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 4:29 PM UTC
How can I sleep when every time I close my eyes they are not alone?
There's an impression on the back of my eyelids and when I shut them My eyes are joined by yours
I see every memory associated with them
The tiny wrinkles that surround them when you smiled
Every tear that beaded up and traveled down your cheek
The lazy dilation when you were too tired to get out of bed
The frustrations you were too afraid to express
Your pupils told a story
And sometimes if I try hard enough I can see my reflection in them
Or maybe that's the remnants of me in the back of your mind
I often wonder what I'm doing there in your thoughts
What is my place there?
Is it a constant reinactment of our past?
Over dramatized reruns of one of our episodes?
Maybe it's fantasy's for the future?
Expectations I could probably never live up to
A perfectly placed hand, kiss, or choice of words that I was too blind to catch
Another que I missed
Or all of the above?
Do you see your reflection in mine?
Can you see yourself dancing playfully
In the dimly lit halls of my imagination?
Adding color to the walls
While simultaneously tearing pieces of paint away
I promise I don't mind
Ill get to sleep eventually
With the same fear and excitement
That I have nearly every night
The fear and excitement
That I'll see you in my dreams again
I wonder if you feel the same
I wonder how long things will be this way
My eyes will open eventually
And when they do
They will be alone again
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 3:48 AM UTC
I think the thing with bad habits is you never really outgrow them. You can put markers on the wall to see how much you've grown but each time you look you'll only be disappointed to see you're still short of what you need. And art. Oh, can art make you lose your mind. You go into a space most people are afraid to be in for not many like facing their fears, much less their sins. But this craft of mine makes me go back to them again and again no matter how many times I've said they've been replaced by Love so real it's insane. So, I guess, not much has changed since the last time I've been in this bed. This chamber of sins and regret clinging to me like clothes on a hot summer's day. I try thinking of an escape but the only way through is facing them again and giving myself grace to make mistakes and I don't think I can do that. Not if I can't fully erase my past. I won't waste my time risking my life. You see, I'm so sick of the grime I'm living in! But there you stand as a beacon of hope and Light at the end of the tunnel. Amity doesn't seem so far away when your voice reminds me of who I am: Beloved daughter of the king. O save me, save me, save me! It seems like all I'm ever good at is shooting at my own body. "Rode hard and put away wet" is what they said and that is exactly what I feel. Poetry has probably dramatized this but who cares? As long as you get something out, right? For your craft! you'd do anything to save it! I run around the whole court and come back without the ball. And if words are really my only reprieve then fine, so be it! I won't try to change these crooked lines I was born in. Crooked bones and misplaced fire missiles firing at me, pointing a finger at me, THAT'S ME!! The one who's nodding her head at everything you've just said; "that's reality," she said. I can't change who I am so I guess I'll just have to make the most of it.
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 9:35 PM UTC
Happy and content -> Nudged out of wack.
On the right path -> Diverted off-track.
Whole and complete -> convinced of lack.
Laughing imbicility -> Fatalistic and sad.
Understandingly forgiving -> impossibly mad.
Totally good -> enjoyable bad.
Zest for life -> inviting suicide.
No remorse -> regretfully tried.
Never always -> honestly lied.
Timid fear -> Daring and bold.
Genuine character -> hypocritically cold.
Religiously devout -> soul's been sold.
Musically inclined -> can't keep a beat.
Social butterfly -> never want to meet.
Sour face -> smiling so sweet.
Always the same -> subject to change.
Seeking normality -> incredibly strange.
Demandingly certain -> just to re-arrange
… Remind you of anyone?...
Jul 5, 2020
Jul 5, 2020 at 7:27 PM UTC
I edit my own memory
My history a constant mosaic of events that may or may not have happened
Over dramatized or overlooked
Cut for time
Added for effect
Sometimes I forget who I am
Was that conversation real?
I replay moments thatve been tampered by my own biased feelings
Occasionally though
There are things I can recall perfectly
At 6 years old I layed in the back of my parents car and watched tree branches
float through the sky as if being pulled by on a sheet
From time to time my memory focuses
And I'll gesture as if fixing the lens
And then the clarity of your face on that perfect night cuts through
Your speaker reflected blue and green and reds on the walls while we listened to Elliot and spoke about life like cinema
I remember thinking that this could not be real
That someone added another reel to my reality to make it more interesting
And I remember you slipping into sleep and as my eyes grew heavy I couldn't help the small stream of tears that built up and collapsed in the corners of them
That moment was pure happiness for me
I hope it was for you too
We may never have a moment like that again
Who knows
But I'm so glad I could share something that beautiful with you
I wouldn't want it with anyone else
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 1:21 AM UTC
if i couldn't dream
then i couldn't breath
i just would't stand living.
when i'm go to sleep
i'm going to my world
there everything is better
more exiting more dramatized
this world is too plane for me
i can't stand this feeling of disappearing
in the dream realm
i'm feel more alive
then in the real world
...
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 5:11 PM UTC
D: ays seem to drag on, relentlessly.
E: ventually you feel like you should give up.
P: ersistent feelings of sadness, worthlessness, useless…
R: eality seems to be slowly fading away from your grasp.
E:motions are beginning to get harder and harder to hide from those you love.
S: o, you decide to tell someone about it.
S: adly, they don’t believe that what you’re going through is worth the heartache you feel.
I: t’s okay though, because you expected this reaction to happen.
O: bviously what you’re feeling is stupid and unimportant.
N: ow what?
D: epression sinks in and begins to…
O: verwhelm every sense you have.
E: verything is dramatized and there’s nothing you can do to stop the…
S: ting of words from those around you telling you to just “feel happier, let out the sadness”
N: eeds don’t seem important anymore, you just ignore them.
O: pening yourself up to other people is no longer an option.
T: hey only make you feel worse.
D: eciding to get the help you deserve was the hardest part.
E: very day is a new day with endless possibilities.
F: ocus only on the positive things that happen to you.
I: n hindsight this will allow you to slowly be able to differentiate between the things you have control over and those you leave to God.
N: ever again will I let people dismiss my feelings.
E: ach feeling you have is part of who you are becoming and allow us to be human.
W: hy hold back anything anymore?
H: ow you feel is so important and you need everyone to understand… to become more…
O: pen-minded to the things that they couldn’t possibly comprehend.
Y: ou are worth it.
O: ur lives matter.
U: nderestimated potential shall no longer be a problem.
A: nyone can change their perspective on life, they just need the right support group.
R: ealizing you’re worth it, is the most important thing you can open your heart to.
E: veryone matters.
Nov 6, 2019
Nov 6, 2019 at 9:04 PM UTC