"embarrassment" poems
You have been with me from the start soft
Hard, never bothered which one you were
When I was young at heart.
I used to pull you my second brain, little soft
Then long and hard,as I grew, you grew with
Me a friend that never left. Only in the cold I
Wondered where you are.
The years did pass and hair you grew, where
Once I had pulled, now you just went hard.
Embarrassed I was as always hard around
The girls, some laughed while others played
With it spitting at them when excitedly hard.
Age moved on my friend for life still with me
Still getting hard but when I wanted you no
More embarrassment on my face at random hard.
My second brain, getting wasted each day, never
Unclean as cheesy smell I do not want as girls would
Run a far.
We played in the wetness we have come so far letting
The children out in the damp park. My wife screamed
Harder deeper my god your big I love your hardness
Up me and the children were excited out of the umbrella
They went a bit to far.
You have been with me through the soft and the
Hard, got me in trouble, now three children later
I must end your spitting but you can still go hard.
***** your my friend to the end when we had no
One a palm and a video was are night in, then softly
You went as to sleep in my palm, from the beginning
Through the soft and the hard.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC
When I was five,
my mother told me I was loved.
Years later, she asked me to leave because
I was the reminder of the gruesome past that haunted her.
When I was ten,
my father told me he believed in me.
Years later, he refused to accompany me because
I was an embarrassment to him in front of the society.
When I was fifteen,
my friends told me I was funny.
Years later, they all laughed at me because
I was the gullible teenager who fell for their flawless façade.
When I was twenty,
this guy said I was beautiful.
Years later, he trashed me, tormented me because
I was ignorant enough to overlook my inevitable flaws.
So, sorry for not believing in you,
for questioning your intentions, inclusively, in-depth
when you told me you loved me because
I didn’t want to wind up years later,
learning it the hard way that people often don’t mean what they say.
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 2:00 AM UTC
I don't care who said crying was overrated, who gave you the ******* right to control the tear ducts of another human .
A human shows emotion through tears , laughter , smiles. The human face has 24 different emotions yet the water stains on her cheeks was never stated as one .
The stains of mascara running down her cheeks , dripping on to neck , her nose sniffling up the excess embarrassment .
I told her to stop trying to be brave , she had to embrace each feeling as it came , I saw her chest heave up and down in a rapid movement so fast I couldn't keep count.
Her mouth was open , no sound came out , she looked like a fish out of water and person screaming but no sound .
Her hands started to shake her body soon followed next I held her close put her head in between the crook of my face and neck .
I felt the water dripping down my neck to my top I never said a word , never told her to stop.
Even though I just changed my sheets that day I never told her to man up because crying is a source of speech when words are not enough .
She had so much emotion and all she could do was mutter incoherent words ,I think it was " I'm sorry" .
Sorry for what I will never know , she never once asked me to let go and I never did .
For once in her life I gave her an embrace even though she refused because if she didn't feel my comfort I'm not sure what she would do .
I did it because when I need that embrace they all refused to give it , they told me to " **** it up" " be ******* brave" , I soon found comfort in smashing my fist against my bathroom mirror and throwing my mothers jewellery box outside in the rain .
I stopped and I jumped in the mud that had formed and that was when I promised myself , if another person needs my embrace no matter who it was , I sure as ******* hell will give it because crying alone is just no good.
It's no good that others can't see your pain , I encourage you to throw a fit and call names , call them all ******* ***** tell them how worthless they are that when you needed comfort he would rather go sit in the car .
I want you to scream , yell and shout with the tears streaming down your face , show them what expressing yourself is all about.
Darling don't ever hold your tears in , wearing mascara or not ,just always keep a tissue tucked in your sleeve, and wipe your eyes till they are raw with the courage that they need.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC
I wear beads and African bracelets for beauty. I forget why the people before me wore them. I wear them with pride not because I earned them but because I simply look beautiful. Beautiful!? What does that even mean? My Nana has scars on her body. She shows them to me with pride. Narrates stories of the war in the past like an action movie only she didn't have a gun only bows and poisonous arrows. The missing teeth in her mouth causes her to spit almost every second she talks. But this embarrassment is only felt by me. She is proud of the hole in her mouth. Suddenly I feel the urge to remove my African beads. They have no meaning only that they are African and I am and so am entitled. But I have done nothing for my heritage. Not even fight for it. Slowly it's being forgotten and people are crossing over without a care in the world. 'To civilisation' we say. 'For the good of the people' we say. But is it? We were a community wrong as we were to circumcise women, marry them off at an early age, burn the wrong... We were a community. We loved each other. We cared. We taught our children how to feel and be the earth. We taught our children to respect the earth and in return the earth blesses us with herbs to cure. What did they call it? Aaah yes 'witchcraft'. We were not animals who forget their children in pit latrines or by the river side just because we cannot afford them or don't want them. We cared not of individualism because together we grew in spirit, body and soul. It was not backward it was culture. And culture is flexible. It can change but can never be terminated. It is not a shoe that when you grow out of you throw and buy another.
And so I am not telling you to go back to your roots because if am quite honest you were never in it. Rather embrace it. See how 'civilised' you will feel then.
yours
The Red_Head
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 3:08 AM UTC
I know why the caged bird sings.
It's not because his song
is as vibrant
as his feathers, that he plucks away
each day because he doesn't
feel beautiful.
It's not because of the majesty
that exist in the freedom
of being able to spread his wings
though he knows
he'll never rise to the occasion.
He sings because he believes
that this cage
was made for a king
because he has never tasted
freedom with a side order of skies.
He's never flown past the sun
on a cool morning
or hung with the moon
on a warm night.
He's only ever known
the comfort of a prison
that his thoughts have
become accustomed
to calling home.
He would never venture
beyond the "welcome" mat
because what's beyond the threshold
holds no promise
the way these bars and metal locks do.
He sings because he knows
that no one is listening
so if he makes a mistake
he doesn't have to live with the regret
or embarrassment of knowing that he missed his note.
The caged bird
never believes that he's caged
because behind these walls
he's safe
and he prefers it this way.
I know why the caged bird sings.
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 3:14 PM UTC
I have a bit of a lisp.
It's not too noticeable,
but sometimes it catches my tongue
and the next thing I know
i'm linking my words together
as if I fluently speak one of the 'love' languages.
Let me tell you,
there is nothing attractive about your S's and th's
blending together as if you were a snake.
When it happens I just want to lower myself to the floor
and slither away on my belly
and go and hide.
But I will take the embarrassment
of getting tongue tied
as long as I never have to tell anyone,
a final good bye.
Because good bye's are forever.
To be continued...
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
Everyone is so colorful
so full of life, so vibrant
Kind green hues
yellow smiles
red thoughts of love
pink cheeks from embarrassment
But I am grey, a colorless hue that represents the lack of self
yet I shine as if I am the only light
for darkness always contradicts the light
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 7:33 PM UTC
His strong hands gripped me everywhere, he knew my sensitive places.
My eyes shone due to my intense obedience and humiliation.
I started to perspire in an excitable way.
My legs began to shake.
I could feel his affection through his endless kiss.
I felt intimidated.
He loved me.
I can still feel his indomitable hands around me, he knows my vulnerable spots.
My eyes glisten from my potent passiveness and embarrassment.
I break out in nervous sweats.
My legs are trembling.
I can feel his devotion in an infinite smack.
I feel terrorized.
He's attached to me.
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 6:15 PM UTC
The last kiss from you
Lasted like a huddle in
The snow blitz
Rocking my anatomy
In the frosty glitz
The last words from you
That barged in my eardrum
You were in a hurry
To smell a new leaf
Draped in a diamond dew
The last gifts from you
Was an instrument
Which still I use
To recognize people
Or to refuse!
The last time
You said I love you
I remember I was laughing
Hysterically as if I was watching
Jared Leto’s jaded mimicry of Joker in YouTube
Intriguingly, when the last time I saw you ****
It felt like pretty Ivanka’s embarrassment
Noticing her dad is a lewd
The last time I was chatting
With you on Facebook
I was wondering why
I shouldn't hack your account?
To check your inbox
Yea, it was filled with the message of *******
F- Bombs, **** shaming and tagging you as harlot
All they were asking was your service of escort
Either in full discount or in hefty cash drops!
The last time I wrote
A letter of love to you
I discovered my Keyboard
Began to blurt out
No more, No more, No more…
The last time I had a chit-chat
With you in the Burger King or Pizza Hut
I listened to your hissing clack-clack
That someone else has become your puppy cat…
The last time I became sick
When I was with you
I heard you threw a party
Where you were whispering
To your besties, how
I become your double whammy!
The last time I was
With you in the bed
I felt like I was indentured
To **** a dummy toy
Sans spirit and flesh!
Loving you was like
Santa Claus gifted me
With a Pandora’s Box
As soon as I opened it
You decided to release
Our *** tape of your having ******
In pornhub’s forum of interracial!
The last time I heard of you
Is that you were giving an interview
To The Cosmopolitan’s board of review
Facing the barrage of inquisitions
You calmly joked, the series
Of latest uproar about you
In the social media or Internet
Is because certain people always
Love to rave about Women’s body
Shoving in and out of their pigeonhole
With their one night stand queen trophy
To flavor your form in their fantasmic mouth
You also smirked in a raspy voice
Defiantly declaring “we (women)
Have been locked indoors
With no air, no food, no water”
My last boyfriend is also no exception
He certainly thinks I came this far
Through ******* and deception
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
At times I feel socially awkward
hiding away those eyes from contact
mumbling and stuttering
as though I were stumbling,
upon the words as I was discovering.
Please don’t think I don’t want to talk
when I rush out,
Please don’t think I don’t want to talk,
when I don’t open your messages.
I escape out of nervosity
I feel the fuzziness in my head
butterflies in my stomach
nervosity in my nerves
lack of air in my lungs
tremble in my muscles
and the gritting of my teeth on my nails
as it drains every ounce of energy out of me.
I hide behind shadows
so I don’t encounter any social interaction.
No matter how many times I plan
and play a conversation in my head
I shudder and fret in reality,
making myself look like an awkward mess.
I want to be friends
I want to say hi
but the words do not escape
for I feel tongue tied.
I feel conscience and dreadful
for being such an awkward mess
choking on words
unable to let them
escape my tongue.
I am thinking
more than I am speaking
I can have a conversation in my head
but somehow, I find it difficult in reality.
But then you reach out
and make the first move
It makes it easier;
only to find myself
being an embarrassment once again.
But you don’t judge
you play it cool
and remain patient
you still show an eager to talk
and maybe that was what I needed
to be comfortable and me.
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 1:47 AM UTC
Dear Lesley,
I'm sorry to have to do this through a letter, but
last time your crying just humiliated
the other couples in your group session.
Although, this might save embarrassment,
and make me look better, now that we are
both sleeping with other people. (If you
can call conjugal visits to your ex-husband people.)
This letter may well be the last memory
you will have of me, if your social worker
lets you keep it as a memento anyway.
I am leaving, and I won't be looking back either.
I am sure you won't be surprised or terribly upset.
It is completely your fault, no doubt about it!
Mainly, it is your long history with lying problems,
even more than your alcoholism, that keeps me
from being even remotely interested in continuing
this relationship with you. (I told you I forgave
you for sleeping with your boss, but I guess I
never really did.)
You would be so much better off finding someone
that can accept the emotional baggage that
you carry around, the ones with the orange tags.
Maybe your analyst can explain that to you better
than I can. I must say, I will miss some of the exciting
times we had together. Like when you got so drunk
and flirted with my father at our family Christmas
dinner. My mom has still not gotten the red wine stain
out of the tablecloth where you puked on it.
I'm glad this is finally done and we can go our
separate ways. I think you will find someone else
with whom to have an unhealthy relationship based
on physical attraction and a passion for strip-club bars.
Hopefully, this will happen incredibly far away.
Good riddance, and Happy New Year.
PS Maybe you should just go back to being a lesbian.
PPS I have no idea where you parked your car.
Jan 12, 2012
Jan 12, 2012 at 2:23 PM UTC
“Quiet,
Caring,
I think she sings?
She was in the musical,”
Everyone walks around so smug
Binding themselves to egocentrism
While I sit here
A burden
Wondering about the
F L A V O U R
Of confidence
No one really knows me
Writing me off
Reveling in my
Embarrassment
Just because I don’t
Go out, as much
Just because I don’t
Lift drinks to my lips
Just because I don’t
Open up to everyone
I can’t take it
I just want to write a letter
To everyone,
Saying:
“Yes, I’m caring.
I’m like a mother to most.
Yes, I was in the musical.
Ensemble, thank you very much.
Yes, I sing.
I love to sing; I’m going to college for it.
However, I am NOT quiet;
My friends would argue that.
I’m not anti-social.
I just don’t like this corrupt world.
And finally,
I’m loud.
I am LOUD,
AND I LOVE IT!”
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 1:26 PM UTC
Never lie to the same poem twice
save it for the next one
or better yet don't tell it at all
for a lie no matter how beautiful
it may sound
or sweet it may taste
rolling off the tongue
will always leave behind
a sour smell
to linger in the mouth
of the past and present
and more often than not
carry knives into the future
Never kiss a new lover
with an old prayer on your lips
it will not bloom
to love or lust
only heartache and embarrassment
be alone and lonely and miserable
until there is no stain or trace
of old fire burning
or cinders glowing
or ashes still smoldering
forming the face and the name
that no longer cares
for your prayers
Never tell the truth to a kiss
that whispers only lies
when speaking of love
and dances with serpents
that tend to planting seeds
of venom and lust
in the skin
and the core of pleasure
that will only wither
and rot on the vine
be patient with yourself
be kind to yourself
time and life will pass
and pass too quickly
and pass too slowly
wait and listen
you will find
what you need
as it finds you...
unexpectedly
and then you can
kiss the love
that whispers in dreams
while only speaking the truth
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 4:58 PM UTC
I fear thyself
I fear attraction
I fear unfamiliarity
I fear attention
I fear incidence
I fear conversation
I fear interaction
I fear answers
I fear questions
I fear to tell my story
I fear to hear yours
I fear compliance
I fear conflict
I fear benevolence
I fear mutuality
I fear victimisation
I fear change
I fear to love
I fear to hate
I fear significance
I fear insignificance
I fear the lies we tell
I fear the truths we hide
I fear imprisonment
I fear freedom
I fear hope
I fear despair
I fear old age
I fear children
I fear intelligence
I fear ignorance
I fear to take
I fear to give
I fear to borrow
I fear to loan
I fear to exchange
I fear to teach
I fear to learn
I fear to laugh
I fear to cry
I fear to be
I fear not to be
I fear to be afraid
I fear to be brave
I fear to die
I fear to live
I fear discomfort
I fear responsibility
I fear to gain
I fear to lose
I fear victory
I fear defeat
I fear antrophy
I fear hypertrophy
I fear inertia
I fear activity
I fear obedience
I fear disobedience
I fear justice
I fear injustice
I fear totality
I fear poverty
I fear embarrassment
I fear addiction
I fear declamation
I fear guilt
I fear pride
I fear delusion
I fear unfulfillment
I fear my apathy
I fear to be wakeful
I fear to be tired
I fear my capabilities
I fear my incapabilities
I fear my dreams
I fear my nightmares
I fear women
I fear men
I fear being disabled
I fear misinterpretation
I fear misrepresentation
I fear altruism
I fear limitation
I fear to endear
I fear to inspire
I fear to forget
I fear to remember
I fear self doubt
I fear discrimination
I fear starvation
I fear migration
I fear fragility
I fear formality
I fear banality
I fear enticement
I fear cruelty
I fear judgement
I fear to embrace
I endure what I fear
I endure because I must
I endure myself because I fear
Endure thyself
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 6:37 AM UTC
i never used to understand why people
hid their pop preferences like
they might hide a **** room...
or like: the toilet paper ran out,
so i jumped into the shower story;
what's with pop music in older people
and getting the embarrassment sticker
that says: HI, MY NAME IS JEFF
AND I LIKE BRIE POP FROM SCANDINAVIA:
nostalgic culmination? death growl
dark metal: the frustration apparent throughout:
frustrated amateur singers with their
strained veiny necks... see that aorta?
opera singers? are they even opening
their mouths, or is this opera meets Roy Orbison?
and by god, that's the case, people are
ashamed to actually acknowledge their
pop preferences... no wonder Patrick
Bateman is fuelled by it...
it's very much like that... pop's the foundation
in you actually liking music...
shame i love music more than women:
keeps my sanity... 2 months apart
and you can't hear a vacuum cleaner,
maybe once a week... maybe...
then the radio starts playing some vintage Roxette...
Abba who? that's for those aged
40 and above... Roxette is my generation's equivalent.
Roxette's masterpiece? Joyride:
the entire album, yes, you'll listen to
this album like some prog rock feast:
Joyride ( : + italics
is the same as bold:
double emphasis )
***** you will! Roxette's Joyride is the
epitome of pop!
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
Life's just a bottle of embarrassment with a lemon of succes.
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 2:24 AM UTC
Wake Up Wretched World,
I assert my Indigenous heritage
I self identify
With the ancestors of my continent
Identity afraid to articulate
Culture, unknowingly belonging to me
Cycle of shame now shattered
Product of love, hatred, lust, and desire
europeans plundering my mother Latin America
In chaos and violence, my skin's pigment
Has been engineered through the mestizaje
Of my Indigenous forefathers
How could I not forget my lineage
When the historical legacy of modernization
Has been to massacre the consciousness
Of where my people really come from
Erasing indigenous pride
Making Paisano and Indio
Synonymous with poverty and alienation
Insulting the humbleness
State of hunger you've left us in
Original lineage within me disturbed
So you push me to ambiguity and embarrassment
Not white, not indigenous?
Pure indigenous brothers and sisters silenced
Not an exploitable consumerist market, not in your campaigns
Not benefactors of your philanthropic development tactics
Bodies too costly to abuse, no reason to bring them
Into the neoliberal multinational corporate circuit
Constantly driving them off productive land
Because they choose to assert their identity
Live in collective communes, not owing you nothing
Waiting for them to make barren lands productive
So you can take those lands too
Not capturing an obscure history, these are not colonial times
This is the legacy of the european presence entering mother Latin America
21st century still defiling Indigenous cultures to civilize and modernize
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
Relaxed and poised,
I'm ready like there is no tomorrow.
Entering this anti-peace,
yet, peace it is supposed to be,
peace I wish it were for me.
Quietly she sits,
and I am waiting,
as the clock slowly ticks.
Why, I wondered,
why should this be difficult?
To simply hand a note of invitation.
Oh, it's done...
what gratification!
Now, all I can imagine is a negative,
but in my heart,
it's nothing but positive.
And now time has expired,
to the moment when I see her again.
She delivered her response,
and in subtle jubilation I had arrived!
An episode has ended,
and now I look towards the future,
of disappointment? of embarrassment? of disaster?
No, no, no...
Times have changed,
and tomorrow,
I look to happiness.
Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 12:52 AM UTC
Dear Ashley,
Congratulations! Your parents decided to give you one of the most popular names of the 90s! This is your letter of introduction to being Ashley! However, be informed that your name will not only be just "Ashley". Since it's very common, non-Ashleys will need to differentiate between all of you. You may be nicknamed "Ashley #2" or "Ashley Last Name Initial". Preparing yourself for embarrassment is also essential. Instructors will call out your name, resulting in either you pointing to yourself mouthing, Me? or managing to chirp a "Yes?" in unison with three others, only to feel stupid when it's not you. With a name so stale and boring, you may grow a hatred for it. You will fall in love with unique signatures, wishing they were your own. Over and over again, you will fantasize about changing it. Keep in mind that other Ashleys feel the same. At least you can be thankful you weren't named Frances.
Sincerely,
Ashley
P.S. - Although, personalized key chains are easily accessible!
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC
A girl stood before me at the supermarket
a few random items littered her basket
pink socks poked out from her sneakers
they were covered with little creatures
an inch of flesh stood between
those ankle high socks and her jeans.
Nice socks I exclaimed!
she turned around inflamed
looked at me and said
I have a boyfriend
her face now red.
Are they his I asked?
her face broke into a laugh
*sorry I got so defensive
guys make me apprehensive
I don't really have a boyfriend
sometimes I just like to pretend.*
*I know how you feel I replied
in embarrassment I've often lied
and whenever I'm struck by beauty
of someone new I meet
I can't look directly at them
I look towards their feet.*
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 8:31 PM UTC
- he was eighteen
his cheeks blushed with embarrassment
which quickly stroke his eyes with fire
it erupted like a volcano to his hand
where it curled up as fist of anger
soon to hit me like thunder
- and I eleven
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
She would be dressed pretty in rags
slaving like there's no tomorrow
without that bit of altruism
maybe a tad kindhearted
shrouded in materialism.
Fairy godmother's name
is money
lures her
to a game of fame
keeps silent
of its rules.
Her beauty
makes her a winner
she would
be drunk
attention
glamour
pleasure.
Unknowingly
games drawn to an end
the clock strikes twelve;
Struck her
riches to rags
the magic of money
only lasts so long
Struck her
still had not find
her one true love
at the eleventh hour.
Sobered
ran out in embarrassment
left only a glass slipper.
Desolate
returning to rags
a druggie for fame
with much hope
a prince charming
would remember
her to find.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC
Cafeteria
Slip
Trip
Crash
Click
All over the internet
********
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC
i know it’s just the stress but the pressure behind my eyes feels like a lobotomy gone wrong
they want nothing more than to pop out
roll across the floor so you’ll finally notice that i am STARING AT YOU
because they’re just circles you won’t ever see the emotion
you won’t ever know why until you look up and you find
who these **** eye ***** belong to
and by then i’ll have ran away in embarrassment
and i’ll come back the next day
with new ones
purple ones
because you hate the color purple
and i’ll tell everyone they’re contacts
but you’ll know that those things in your drawer
that you kept in jars
because you love human body parts
were mine all along
and you’ll regret that day in the forest
against that picnic table
in that fall weather
i love fall
why did you make me taste blood
my teeth are falling out now
from chattering each time i come close to you
i don’t know
if it’s nerves or if i can just feel the cold from your sweat
nerves
nerves
the electricity
in your nerves in your veins in your neck
let me rip them out oh please
one strong grip and a tug
and there they will come flying
and i’ll attach you to every piece of metal
and i’ll fly away
and you’ll be my escape
you’ll be my escape…
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 8:40 PM UTC