"embarrasment" poems
i know what i am,
to you.
an embarrasment,
don't let the ladies from the church,
hear that i dont believe in god.
you have dragged me,
to shrinks,
to priests,
convinced i am of the devil,
convinced i was molested.
convinced that there is something to be fixed.
all the while,
i had known,
that my disease was not of the mind.
i was not diseased at all!
i was wearing black,
because i liked it.
i loved a woman,
because she made me happy.
i have ink on my skin,
because its beautifull.
i have steel in my flesh,
because it appeals to me.
i am an atheist,
because it makes sense.
but lo!
shield your gaze from me.
cover your children's ears.
suspect that they are gay,
while you are at it,
it rubs off you know.
push your head into that hole,
stick your fingers in your ears,
and sing a ditty to drown me out.
cut me off.
frankly, i dont care.
i am done explaining.
no longer,
can i fake a placid demeanor,
around the dinner table,
to encourage your beliefs.
i know you think,
its all attention seeking.
equipped with this,
my mother,
my sister,
i will not squirm under your gaze any more.
i cannot conform,
to your ideas,
of a daughter,
of a sister,
of a wife,
of a woman.
i fly proudly in the face of your disaproval,
because i know,
every step i take towards your shackles,
is a step away from my destiny.
Jan 27, 2010
Jan 27, 2010 at 2:26 AM UTC
Dearest Mother
I love you so much, so deep.
Why do your Children make you weep?
You adopted me, with a broken past
Filled with hateful ideals.
Thus, saving my heart.
Although Im not your aesthetic child,
I love you more than those,
Who claim your side.
My bloodline, an embarrasment, they **** your body.
They steal from you, a detestable history.
Engraved on the future, a history past.
Of foreign Politics, your new prison Mom.
And why do your children embrace this lie?
Why are they standing idly by,
While you wither and die?
For fame?
For Fortune?
For Self..
For GREED...
This is NOT your teachings!
"UBUNTU" is...
You taught me to Love beyond the colour of skin.
And to love profoundly, my Rainbow Kin.
Your Spirit, dear Mother, I will defend till Death.
Help me return your babies
back to your breast.
Forgive my Ancestors, they have no clue what they did.
Their greed, their hate, their fear, killed your Kid.
Forgive your Children,
My brothers and sisters.
For their hearts are violent and full of blisters.
And Mom, I know this is not your way.
You show love and respect, the opposite of pain...
Though I may not be biologically yours,
You blessed me in your love,
Showed me that with you, there are no borders.
My Mother I love you. Im sorry for what they do.
Though Im not your birth child,
I know you love me too..
so WAKE UP my Sister
WAKE UP my brother.
Stand up with me.
Defend our Mother.
She is bruised and hurt,
Cant you hear her cries?
Because Her children are greedy,
And dont care if She dies.
Our "Leaders" **** Her out
For personal gain.
She is NOT for sale!
I wont play that game.
So Mom, I love you.
I cry because of what they do.
They claim your being,
They claim they own YOU!
But you cant be owned, or sold by any,
Because you are loved,
By oh so many..
Again I pledge my Love to you.
Im not alone, many of your Kids are good.
They embrace your teachings.
They keep your ways.
To live life in your Tradition,
And not in shame.
I love you too, my sister, my brother.
In Truth and Respect, another gift from our Mother.
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 4:38 AM UTC
Embarrassment.
We all know what it is.
It's the son of Mr. Miscommunication
and the lovely Ms. Stupidity
Embarrassment isn't a kind thing
It crawls into your stomach and pokes at you
only to remind you
of your misfortune mis-step.
With all of Embarrasment's toying
you become uncomfortable
you sweat
you fidget
but it's still there
that, hopeless feeling of stupidity that
eats at you.
Embarrasment's quite flexible,
he likes to move around
the more you think, the farther he goes
from your stomach's trouble to your chest
where he hurts your heart
and lodges your lungs
At this point,
we all know what happens
but
I'm far too embarrassed to explain it.
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
I've tried everything I could,
Even tried a little harder,
But wasn't able to please,
Every human being on the planet that doesn't seem pleased with who I am.
My parents: I'm sorry my grades aren't wonderful,
I'm sorry I make mistakes,
I'm sorry I'm an embarrasment.
My friends: I'm sorry I take advantage of you,
I'm sorry I'm not easy to deal with,
I'm sorry I'm not perfect.
My teachers: I'm sorry I'm not a straight-A student,
I'm sorry I get lazy,
I'm sorry I lose focus in class and waste your time.
Honestly,
I could never get it right.
Nothing was ever enough,
For anyone.
Not even the strangers I walk by in the school halls,
or the cute boy living next door.
But I guess I'll have to face the fact that I'll never be perfect,
I'll have to realize that pleasing everyone comes after pleasing myself,
But what's the point when the only thing that'll make me happy nowadays,
Is the feeling of being wanted,
Of being significant and important to someone's life.
The reassurance that I'm not just some ******* up teenager,
Walking among the rest.
But hey,
We can't all get what we want can we?
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 10:04 PM UTC
This one is for the bullies.
This one is for the cruel.
Try harder.
Because these walls were made with the intent
of keeping you out and instead
kept out the rescue party.
Too many are the tears which we have shed
over being too fat or too thin
or any other of these thousands of things within us
that define us as imperfect.
This one is for those that kicked us while we were down,
for the class clown addicted to our embarrasment,
to the flicked pencil that hits our back as we pass them.
If you've ever felt scorn,
if you've ever felt torn between the greatest two evils,
if you've ever as a kid felt that primeval urge of fight or flight
or spent a night crying over your bathroom sink,
It's okay.
I'm not saying that as if I could ever
make you feel as if that pain living inside of you
will abstain from your mind.
I'm saying that you aren't alone.
Simply let it be known how you feel
and you will real impressed
by how many others have felt the same.
This is one is for the playground bruiser, try harder.
This is for the girl writing 'slut' on her locker, try harder.
This is for those that will always insist
on testing the waters of an uncalm mind,
TRY HARDER.
Because it's never been an issue
of being smarter or stronger.
It's been about you holding on this extra while longer,
long enough that you can put all this behind you.
For all the gossips who acted like they knew you, try harder!
Because this time they are not getting through.
Concede to them nothing,
abandon no friend or creed,
let not their need for acceptance give lead to your self-loathing.
Remember, it is not your clothing or your skin that incurs their hate,
do not lock your gate to those who would help you.
The shallow brook runs the loudest,
the wounded dignitary the proudest
and so long as we allow them to hurt us
they'll believe they can get away with it.
We are many,
united in the trials through which we have grown.
Let us stand together now
and not any among us stand alone.
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 5:45 AM UTC
I watched how violence manifests in the hearts of men.
When I walked passed a spider,
Resting by the entrence of my home.
He had no quarrel with me
Even when i took his sun without say,
Nor was he scared of this great figure
That he would scour away.
It was I who was gripped by fear,
Imagining the unimaginable.
In my minds eye
I had already seen my death at the hands of a spider.
My ignorance had lead my imagination
Into a great series of unfortuitous events.
Without knowing, without seeing for my self
It began
With thinking if I leave this door open,
He will enter.
When he enters,
He will make his way to my bedroom unseen.
And when the night takes me away,
He will make sure my soul never returns to this body.
This is when my fears soon turned to hate and anger,
Spurred on by the fear of death
I had no problem sending this creature to the great unknown
That I was scared of.
My superiority in statue,
My enduring strength to **** without the need to feed
And this consciousness I possess to differentiate between victim and transgresser,
Is the proof and worth
Of my life being spared and yours buried beneath the rubble
Allowing worms to feed off your decaying matter.
I will not be reduced to such insignificance
And be shamed by this inferior peasant with no home.
I had seen how fear had contorted my imagination
Influenced my thoughts to vibrate at a low frequency
Of; hate, anger, fear, doubt and anxiety.
With the aid of memory,
What I had conceived vividly in my mind
About how this creature wanted to belittle my existence
Now latched on to feelings from the past
That also vibrate at a low frequency.
The trauma I had to endure
From shame and moments of embarrasment,
Was the great encourager in killing
Preventing a reoccurrence of this pain in the future.
Even though he should succeed in my hyperthetical death
Where I would no longer exist to bare this worry,
I was still scared of what people might think of me after death.
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 6:24 AM UTC
Dear struggling child of God,
I know you keep trying to steer the ship back to the shore. Back to safety and peace in God.
I know the storms seem tougher than you are and Christ seems more distant as the waves push you deeper into the sea.
You tell ourself, "tomorrow will be different," every night you close your eyes and wonder when God will be near again.
Holy Spirit seems gone.
And you're left trying to tame the madness and chaos that He's left you to deal with all alone.
When your tears are concealed by the anger of the storm, and you wonder if God truly left you to deal with the storm all by yourself.
Child, I know how much you long for things to be the same, for the Prince of Peace to calm the storm or help you walk on water.
The worse part is, no matter how hard you seem to try, He just doesn't seem to care.
Right?
I have no courage to give you, or wisdom to impart on you. I'd say in your weakness, He is strong, but how could I when the weakness seems greater than God Himself.
But I want you to know, holiness is a journey that's not easy to embark on.
To be sanctified in Jesus through the redeeming work of Holy Spirit, feels like a battle you'll never win.
And trying to steer to the safety of the shore, is like running against the wind.
But when you think God has not prepared you to face the harshness of the storm, remember Christ who become a child and chose to be born in a stable. A place not typically fit for the majestic glory of God Himself.
When your body is limp and weak, remember the King of Kings, who was slapped and beaten in shame and carried so much embarrasment that His own disciples abandoned Him.
Remember the garden of Gethsemane, when Yeshua chose the cup of suffering that we may share His glory and be an ambassador.
Remember how He chose the wrath of God, for the freedom of mankind. How his hands and feet bore the holes of disgrace that came with dying a sinners death.
Being an ambassador of the great King, means we bear an image that represents Him. Though there is glory, there is also suffering.
So be still even in the rage, even in the discomfort, knowing that the God who created the seas, will direct you to where you must go, not where you think you want to be.
Sincerely,
your struggling sister.
Dec 6, 2022
Dec 6, 2022 at 12:23 PM UTC
do you remember
when
the world shut me out?
how quick we forget, now
when i was four
and they threw
sand in my eyes
& me out of the box
i cried so hard
i couldn't see
and you still told me
i was too special
for them to see
what they're missing
i'm blind to you, now
when
i was chubby
8th grade
and no one else
loved me
you still told me
how beautiful
i was
and that you
would always
see me that way
how ugly am i to you, now
when i was purple
haired and fifteen
you bailed me out of jail
you still told me
even if i was wrong
you could never leave me
there
you bail on me, now
when i got stood up
you took me to prom
anyway
you still told me
i will always
be there for you
especially when
others won't
you stand me up, now
do you remember
how proud you were
when you still told me
ill always be
your child
somehow
i must be adopted, now
i may be pregnant
i may be gay
i may be high
i may be sick
i may be dying
but,
i am still yours
do you remember
when
the world shut me out?
how quick we forget.
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 8:25 PM UTC
Butchers used to hang their pigs (ham) by the tendons (strings) in the back of the knee. The Hamstrings are actually 3 different muscles that work together to extend the hip and flex the knee.
Basically the hamstrings most important job is to make sure your leg doesn’t fly off your body when you run.
Yes, Found words with capitals. Then there are cheeestrings which i find taste of nothing
in particular.
He was not tongue tied in the medical sesnse, he stammered and was bullied over it. While
I stood by with love and embarrasment .
We have since learned a thing or more.
Then there is the thread to consider, yet I understand that some use thorns.
Stories continue of bound feet and
crippling
people.
He suggested that body dysmorhia may be at the heart of things. bdd.
I fear he may be right.
Research Albino.
sbm.
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 1:48 AM UTC
what to say, when you cannot help.
smile, when the work is overflowing,
when nothing froths properly. milk is not
my favourite thing.
never has been.
those dependant on never eating.
much.
a pause, a comma,here and there, sometimes
confuse. yet know the difficult task comes
easy in time, with practice.
you may not think so when the machine explodes,
covers in embarrasment. there is another mill.
some times it feels awkward.
the looms are still working.
sbm.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 1:46 AM UTC
Hope flies out the window fast
Bottom empty no repast,
Moment born of cancers’ child
Status hangs unreconciled
Woe be they who lay it thin
Who stalk these dark nights, plundering.
Woe be they who keep their guard
Abreast, and lo behold, ******
That which causes heart to sing
Despite the hurt imbued within.
Solitary, lonely way
Through this enigmatic day.
When, in truth, potentials lie
Through yonder, bright magenta sky,
Through reams of iridescent verse
Orated daily, unrehearsed,
Bowls of olives, black, in oil
Turkish loaf, foccascia foil
laughing girls in skimpy skirts
Raucous till he belly hurts….
But futile in this state of woe
As bitter bile now sours the show.
Towering in halls of cloud
Mouthing ,hard, jawbone aloud
Struggling to hold intact
Counterpoints to interact,
Damning inconsistencies,
Weak deniability’s
Betrayal slides In cuts of time
Agonising back teeth grind
Quivering in searing pain
Every good, undone again.
Stalking hard to places thin
Solitude… eviscerating,
Emptiness imbues the light
Shatters soul in shoals of fright,
Delve hopelessly to hopeless ways
Scream as light refracts in waves,
Wallowing to places thin
Wavering to lost within.
Weakness in the cold half light
Shattered prospects drenched in fright,
Rabid eyes withdrawn in face
Incarcerate hot hatred’s trace.
Better now in light of day
Sunshine beaming in to play,
***** count resumes its gain
Flocculant reduces pain
Shame slides in the door ajar
Embarrasment impinged afar.
Amazing how a cup of tea
Resurects the life in me.
M.
14 April 2019
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 12:23 AM UTC
i am the solo flight
signs & patterns
non sensical
i am the timer
the quiet time
i am a broken plate glued
reused
i was a mouse found hiding
i am embarrasment while others are not
i am reluctant
a hero
another life
i could be a leader if you listen to me
i am non binary without your finery
i am no one i may be someone
listen to me
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 1:14 AM UTC