"empathizing" poems
Even though we’re leagues apart
Measure my heartbeats by ear, sir
Part these waters from my tears
Tell me that you can tell the difference
I know that you’ll leave me as soon as I can
Need someone, anyone, anything, something
Empathizing with me is worthless; I can’t feel
Surely you must see my pain growing
Surely you must hear my heart breaking
Feb 26, 2010
Feb 26, 2010 at 7:45 PM UTC
Streaming glitter
Suspended laughter
Delayed happiness
Evident abasement
Surmounting fears
Shadows dance in torment
Pleasant gestures
Pretence abundant
Deferred bliss
Creeping obscurity
Empathizing stares
Lured smiles led to drown
Malevolent touch
Masked intentions
Insubordinate emotions
Disappearing identity
Longing spirit
Laughter is beheaded
Joyful wickedness
Jeweled thorns
Loving stabs
Poisoned kisses
Unassuming mortal
Beauty lays dead
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 8:05 AM UTC
There's trauma interlocking my genetics
Stripped of specifics boiled into one
My own blood stained with my ancestors' rapes
23% White in my DNA sickens my bones
How much of it was forced upon my people
My great great and further back peoples
How many mothers thighs ripped apart to give birth to the innocent child of white devils
To be beaten by the white she-devil for "enticing" her man
For the child- if lighter- it be favored but enslaved in the home- near that very room they were criminally conceived
How many young Black men taken and ***** to be emasculated and sedated to work passively upon the plantation
Take a wife- to have her taken to masters room
Have a daughter- son- and the pattern roll on
How many white people and non-black people believe Black peoples to be inherently ****** to this **** day
These are the origins
If White people ignore my claims
Then you- white man- woman- person
You are just as guilty as the slave owners
Just born centuries too late for free labor
You must pity this of yourself too
To ignore Black peoples cries is to be complacent in our mistreatment
To not listen is to feel we were deserving of our suffering
To have happily whipped and beaten your fellow man if born back then
To support U.S. military veterans and be empathizing of their trauma
While rolling eyes to when Black people don't trust police, the government, or all White people of high status
Invented- created- controlled- plagued by White people
Because of 300+ years of trauma has brazed us with forced submission
To ignore the intergenerational neglect of treatment among Black people
Makes you a slave master on a cold December in 1865 missing your slaves just born modern day
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 3:02 PM UTC
I look at other people and
I simply miss them,
I miss empathizing with others,
realizing that other people
feel the way I do
But I’m different now,
I used to be like everyone else
with the same opinions
and same behavior
but it’s changed so suddenly
If people knew how I feel,
they would all feel the same about me
“You should get help”
“You should talk to somebody”
that’s why I miss them,
they’re all the same.
They all blend in unnoticeably
while I become the attraction at the zoo.
I want to be them again.
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 11:27 PM UTC
Sometimes I get overwhelmed and I'm unable to find the words to express how I'm feeling.
I doubt myself and my ability to do any of this 'work' - the real work, "THIS". And I grow angry because it feels so unfair that they **** us and we spend the rest of our lives trying to deal with it.
I find myself reading and empathizing with others, others 'like' me…
to some extent we share a 'likeness' - albeit a likeness that we would prefer NOT to share -
and yet it is there, and I can feel it.
I read, and I tell others:
*"hang on"
"don't give up"
"it will get better"
"you can do this"
"you're so strong and so courageous"*
And I mean every word of what I say to everyone. And yet, I can't say it to myself. And what I feel right now....is DOUBT. Because the truth is that sometimes it doesn't get better. And the reality is that even when you hang on by your pinky fingernails, you can still fall. And often times I feel like I CAN'T do this. So many nights I'm scared and I don't understand, and I don't even know where this is going. I don't know which one of me is in charge, and frankly,
I don't know which one of me is the "real" Nita.
I haven't written much this past week...I've felt tired and overwhelmed
and I haven't been able to put the chaos in my head into words on the computer screen.
**The truth is...
Sometimes I'm not strong or courageous.
Sometimes I can't do this.
Sometimes I want to run and hide.
Sometimes I want to give up.**
And I know I'm not the only one...and it isn't fair -
it's not fair that they break us apart and
we spend the rest of our lives trying to find the pieces
and put them back together again.
And some days I doubt I will even be able to find all the pieces of me.
And it feels like it's me against the world....
and the world is winning...
**Is life fair?
Doubt it!**
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
When artists suffer, they do not become more creative. They become at their very core, human. Suffering is a painfully human experience we like to disregard as the sole bane of our existence. When we try to avoid it instead of empathizing the cause of our pains, we become less human. We are running away from ourselves. A great artist must essentially be stripped of all that prevents him from his vulnerability, his weaknesses and his humanity. Embrace all that he is. That, I think, is ever the only way to create good art. Because art that defeats time is art that happened and most importantly art that fought to live in each one of us.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 4:08 AM UTC
Closer
than a sister
or a brother
Knowing
understanding
empathizing
A certainty
you can count on them
no matter what
you are going through
you are loved
and valued
and would be missed
and you are there for them as well
they cry
and dry
your tears
they feel your pain
steadfast
they are a gift
from God.
Cynthia Jean
3312018
copyright
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 9:25 PM UTC
For the low low price of just being within' earshot,
the conversation analyst will run a full diagnostic on your conversation.
You know how that perfect comeback
feels, three weeks after
You didn't say it?
In training, representatives for Inbound sales listen to recordings of their own phone calls and critique them like Art majors in a studio class.
Our conversation analyst.
Looks at you like a shoe on the wall.
Unlike the psychology major, the conversation analyst will never share his results.
He'll just judge you.
Silently.
He doesn't speak.
His fourth grade english teacher taught him that the carpenters house is never finished.
She was referring to her husband, the carpenter, not finishing the renovations on their new home, but the conversation analyst heard it as a metaphor, and adopted it as a universal truth.
Much like a painting controls the path your eye travels the canvas, or the scientific process that goes into composing music,
the way you build rapport is one of those things that people don't realize can be an art form until they wittness it professionally.
Our conversation analyst considers himself Socio-passionate.
Which amuses him, when he deducts points from your conversation for not empathizing correctly.
Or not giving effective compliments by asking a relevant question afterwards.
The conversation analyst is not always mute. On special occasions such as first impressions he is a fine conversationalist.
You can meet the conversation analyst for the first time, as many times as you want.
If the carpenters house is never finished.
The conversation analyst
exemplar at listening,
Will never hear you.
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 6:26 PM UTC
These soot cloaked hands have been tried
They're wrecked and wrinkled by those drenching waters of time
Hands that only wanted to help you and hold you
Seem to have been rejected for their lack of whatever it was you ran off to
Reaching from some dieing branches
Hoping that maybe it won't end like the last time
And like those stems my roots are bare
Chapped and crackling in that love lost air
So tired of waiting for a gentle rain
A little relief to forget the pain
Of knowing what it's like to care
Empathizing with the less fortunate
When all I need is a little sympathy
Is for you to take a pinch of time and get to know me
But maybe that's just too much to ask
Maybe I was meant to pan along the river side
Congratulating others on their gold
Secretly it's killing me
Seeing smiles that crush my soul
One day I'll be happy for you
When I found out what happy can be . . .
Jan 1, 2011
Jan 1, 2011 at 7:08 PM UTC
”how are you feeling?”
that question hovered above me
how am i feeling
i drown out my thoughts with the sounds of my hospital room
the
beep
beep
beep
echoes through me as i try to blink
how am i feeling
“i don't really, uh, know i guess“
the words trailed off
being quietly drowned out by
the
beep
beep
beep
“says you tried to hang yourself“
i twitched at the sound of that
the nurse's voice, mechanical almost but a tinge of concern slipped through
beep
beep
beep
“yeah“
my mouth dry and chest hollow
i couldn't feel anything
yet the tears came
a violent wave spilling from my eyes
i could feel her staring
possibly empathizing
or spacing out
lifting my arm to wipe the tears
i felt the IV move in my vein
i felt nauseous
watching the tube faintly move as i gently flexed my arm
“do you need anything? water? crackers?“
beep
beep
beep
“no, thank you“
deja vu
i sit up
body aches
eyes shift down
beep
beep
beep
feeling my neck where the rope had constricted
an indentation
feeling the rope's texture, i began to feel immaculately empty
like a sterile needle
like an operating room
like the pauses between the
beep
beep
beep
“i would like some water please“
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 4:35 AM UTC
I don't remember to wash off my green beans before I eat them.
I'm not patient
And I think complaining is pathetic,
But I still end up doing it.
I'm not considerate
And I have trouble empathizing
And I'm always desperate for attention
A sure sign of a weakness.
It's not necessary to tell me my faults.
I'm well acquainted with them.
Probably moreso than anyone else.
I read because it distracts me from how empty my life is
And I like when people don't know my music.
It makes me feel superior.
There are thousands more.
Some very silly, like how I never really finish my own beer
And some important, like how I play the martyr way too often.
But just trust me.
I know them plenty.
Let me survive.
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 7:12 PM UTC
She winked at me...
Through the northern breeze,
Carrying the oil
For the painting I'd breathe.
Climbing the boughs,
I gently waved.
Over stately lines,
Above their leafy train.
My bedded Sun,
Lay behind hill's crest.
Wayward moon pining,
Empathizing with mine.
Before the stars came running,
A counsel to the lonely bodies.
I left that artful canopy.
Smiling, I think,
"She thought of me."
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 12:54 AM UTC
i listened to all of your lies
all of the things that hurt you
and there i sat
empathizing. caring.
i believed you
i loved you
i tried so hard to save you
but in the end it was a lie
you didnt need saved at all
I hated Him for all that you "didnt" deserve
for all that i had, that you did not
scars on my arm will remind me
of your worthless existence
theres only one think i know is true
i am better off without you
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 3:57 PM UTC
Maybe I'm empathizing a nervousness you don't even have
Maybe I'm scared of who I really am
Maybe I'll just laugh
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 1:08 PM UTC
skinny.
I have trouble sympathizing
and empathizing
and condoling
those who open up their dark secrets
when it comes alight
that their secret is of the weighted, edible variety.
You say you struggled with weight
you couldn't keep it on
barely swallow a bite
you got so sick
and it was so bad
---
I must refrain,
as you speak,
from bowing down,
from praising you,
from questioning how you achieved
such beautiful strength
to become so skinny.
Your nightmare is my fantasy
your dark memory
is my desired future
Your shame
is my pride
Your wicked sorrow of the events
is glory in my eyes.
But I won't say that
no
I can't.
can't tell you how I envy
something that hurt you so,
but you can be sure
I'll be thinking it
feeling it
breathing it
forever.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 2:22 PM UTC
I still vividly imagine how;
You were surrounded with swirling color,
When you stood in the middle of rainfall;
Not minding that its still in the afternoon
And all I could mutter was, "Beautiful."
And d'you remember when,
You're playing like a child in a public shower?
Just simply enjoying the falling cold water;
While not minding everyone's whisper.
It's "Candid," and 'twas all I could utter.
Especially that moment when,
You've given the starry sky your full attention,
As you close the book you'll finish later on
While shutting your eyes for appreciation.
And all I could utter was, "What a turn on."
Ah, yes,
Smiling is your way for your scars to heal
Always thanking every bits of love you feel
While empathizing to every relation that would fail
Yet all I could asked you was, "Are you even real?"
…
But you just smiled and said, "Back on the title."
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 4:57 AM UTC
there is something eerily and ironically calming about being alone in a room crowded by people who do not know a single thing about you – the unsurmountable flaws you try so hard to claw out, the haunting memories that tug your heartstrings, the wretched moment you first experienced heartbreak, the tiresome problems that incessantly pest you, the undeniable fondness you feel for the one who makes you feel all types of fuzzy on the inside, down to every detail you lock away and consent only those who have broken down your walls to see – and do not bother enough to figure out. we encounter different people day by day, apathetic and oblivious to the tough battles they have faced, and the demons they have dealt with. solace shouldn't be found in selfishness and ignorance. humanity clearly lacks a sense of sincerity, the type that is untarnished by each individual's egotistical ways. i pray that we stop being afraid of feeling and empathizing, because there is nothing more pure and beautiful than genuineness.
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 4:10 AM UTC
My former life is halting
My predators continue stalking
Be the prey
Or be the killer prompting?
I'd let you in but I'm too busy striking.
Relate
Empathizing
Listen
Criticizing
Scar for scar
Show me your shards and try to piece them with mine.
I'll pay the toll
Yours is cheaper
And worth my worthless time.
I'm made for the aimless drive.
My purpose of living is to live a lie.
Padded locks and dead bolt strains
Are the only protection of my rampant brain.
Take the pulse
Heartbeat false
I could be an enemy so keep me close.
Be wary what you say
I'll let you think you what you wish
Remaining a stranger
With an unexplainable imprint.
Try to disappoint me
Try to pick apart my flaws
Try to find the weak spot
I know mine better than all.
I've been on lockdown for years
The trick is to expose
Get used to the hated traits
And then let them all go.
I'm not a sage
I cannot fix your brain
I cannot feel the pressure
Of resurrecting your frame.
I'm selfish at most
Keep people around to hide within their cloaks.
I'm the breath when others choke
I'm accustomed to the toxic fumes
Like The Hills have Eyes,
I'm addicted to the abuse.
Mark my words
Or let them air.
I'll give you comfort
While you're entangled in your snare.
Be my savior?
Take on my past?
I've taken my bruises
And like people,
They never last.
So use your master key
The latches will open easily
My secrets are crosses
That I don't carry with ecstasy.
My attachment to them
Are much like your attachment to me.
Acknowledge the weight
But pretend to lift them effortlessly.
It's not a warning
Or a method to scare away
Just take it as a note
That what's locked is so for a reason.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
depression is like a lot of things
tonight it is like this:
-empathizing with the tea kettle who screams and screams until someone comes along and removes her from the fire
-clutching tightly onto a way too hot mug despite the discomfort because at least you feel something tangible (sidenote, related) comparable to holding a piece of your own heart/a piece of someone else's
-listening to every song you can think of that will make you cry and doing absolutely nothing about it
-coming home from work with expectations of accomplishment but staying in bed/isolating for the remainder of the day
-avoiding mirrors, or even worse getting lost in them for a half hour trying to figure out what exactly you even look like
-inducing an early sleep cycle to avoid any further feelings of heaviness
but it is ok!
or at least it will be!
tomorrow is a new day for us all
-
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 12:58 AM UTC
If I don't stop
empathizing I am
gonna bury my ***
under souls the
beggers
the down trodden
but I never will
no matter what pile forms atop me
If I can still breathe
I am gonna see hope from his armpit between her legs
from the bottom of humanity
and beg
just ease up all you upon me let me
have one breath ok
there now I am with you again
let's fight just get off me
run ! run , that's it
I will catch up
I am wheezing
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 9:39 PM UTC
Does He Still Deny A Climate Change?
(asked by the least political of observers)
Is he denying still,
Or is he stalling, stone(y)walling
Wailing about other things,
Like Mexicans and walls while slinging
Maddening, outrageous barbs
About the so-called loss of jobs
To South Korea while a North Korean
TV lady sobs with joy
About a bomb to be employed
(You all know which I mean)
That starts a chain
That takes out half a planet.
Does he still encourage fossil fuel production
Leading in the wrong direction?
Does he not see rising seas
And floods and famines and disease
Around and as potential?
Heats and droughts and quakes to come?
Or does he see the states as humming?
Self-deception quintessential:
Lies.
Who can call it otherwise?
What is a lie?
And how does one get by with lying
And denying, falsifying, flying
In the face of truth
As often as he tries – no, does.
With head, mind, pen, hand buzzing
I shall stop! But you, my friend
May make a noise, examine cause, while empathizing
Till an end.
This being written off the cuff,
Now it is time to send this off
Into the world of cyber.
Does He Still Deny A Climate Change 9.3.2017
Our Times, Our Culture II;
Arlene Corwin
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 3:02 PM UTC
Times when the spirit goes down
Times when both the hands are not enough
Times when hearing something good is the only craving
This is the only time when the only most needed person is me
For my own validation
For my own inspiration
Empathizing my own emotions
Leaning on my own shoulders
Wiping my own tears
Accepting my own fears
Sensing my own sensitivity
Soothing myself with soft words
Remembering that bad times are temporary
And in this temporary time that I have
Carried on and hung on with myself
That I stood by myself in need
That I understood myself and my needs
That I build this trust with myself
That I know now in times when the spirit goes down
I have me always to carry on with myself.
Nov 6, 2019
Nov 6, 2019 at 10:54 AM UTC
i spend an evening elaborating to you
another of the lifelong atlas weights on my shoulders
saint that you are
focused, locked in, nodding,
with all your beautiful being.
understanding. empathizing. absorbing.
all of the hell of these shattering ordeals i have endured
every day you grace me with your ears
my heart grows to long for you more.
careful composure cannot be kept in situations of this nature.
so i weep
for never has this
caring, patient
...love
been shown to me
Oct 7, 2021
Oct 7, 2021 at 9:51 PM UTC
Of all the colors in the world
There isn't just one that perfectly describes you,
A coloring book filled with all kinds of scribbles
and vibrant hues.
Tracing each line with the zest of reassurance.
A splash of purple and brown to highlight the horizon of your eyes.
A budding violet blooming in the wind
With specs of pink and blue between your fingers
An love affair begun with the touch of eyes.
Imagining our bodies drenched in red then double dipped in brown.
Curiously empathizing with pink hearts without the weight of heavy burden
The beauty of coloring outside the lines without hesitation.
In a kaleidoscope lost in an ocean of dark colored hair,
An mosaic colored in bright yellow, blue, green and brown.
Laid flat against white paper expanding in color, devouring each line of insecurity. An kiss over orange eye lids in a flash of white.
Bright stained eyes that sigh each moment that passes.
Tasted in the fountain of lips
Strawberry kiwi, Banana berry and rocky road
Shut flowers, soon to open; flourishing at your very thought.
Delicate with their touch
They Flicker then flash with the quiver of open lips.
Inhaling each breath that spreads against your neck
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 4:23 PM UTC