"expects" poems
All around me, I see endless fear.
Fear of heights, sure, fear of scuttling things
Fear of darkness, fear of bites
Fear of brightness, fear of fights.
This is the fear we can display
Because it’s little, simple, understandable.
But the fear I really fear
That we all let consume us
Is deeper,
Darker,
Cold.
It’s the fear of friendship, fear of love,
Fear of what’s ahead of us
But even more of what’s behind us
Fear to see what’s really beyond
The faces we all fake.
Fear of the unknowable
Fear of what we know
Fear of speaking out or up or for
Fear of conforming to something more
Fear to test the limits
Fear to taste the truth
Fear of what’s uncomfortable
Rather than the deception of comfort
Fear of what to do
Fear of striving for perfection
When perfection’s so unattainable.
Fear of to leave what has been known
Fear of what has been done
Fear to see past fabrication,
Fear to show the truth.
I’m talking fear of emotion
Or fear of not feeling enough
Fear of silence, but worse,
The fear of candid words.
Fear to look someone in the eye
And say, “I know you,
And I care for you.”
Fear to let someone see the darkness that comes with your light
Fear of rebelling though it’s time someone did
Fear of doing what you want and know
Because of what someone told you you should
Fear of being who you are
Because every day everyone is telling you
What to do and who to be
And what is acceptable
And what is not.
I’m talking fear of having an opinion
Because someone will shoot it down
Fear of defense or service or selflessness
Because someone won’t approve.
Fear to accept because of fear of acceptance
Fear to truly love someone
Because it’s risky,
And you never know
What someone else really feels.
I cry for the fear of
Every person who can’t be
Who they are and who can’t
Let people see them in their entirety
Because after all everyone urges
And persuades and demands and values
And idolizes and expects,
You don’t even know yourself,
Because you've been too busy
With trying to be so many different
“Someone Else"s.
I ache for this relentless fear.
I mourn the stagnancy of the condition
Of the human soul who is so afraid
To let go of fear
And BE somebody,
To do something or say something, or simply believe,
That the only thing they truly trust
Is the familiarity
Of fear itself.
That’s why fear is frightening
That’s why we should be afraid of fear
Because it stops us, cages us,
Bars us behind the façade we display
And muffles the words of our heart.
I see these things and wonder
Why can’t they change?
Why can’t this need to fear be erased
From the human condition?
And I realize it’s because everyone
Is afraid.
And I’m so afraid too.
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
i’m made of sidewalk cracks and moments i should’ve taken
i’m made of broken rings and the wrong girls i put my trust in.
because i didn’t know what love was until i kissed a girl made of thorns
and i didn’t know what happiness was until fear started sleeping without locking the door.
i’m no where near what the world makes me out to be
what it expects from me
and maybe that’s okay.
i’m made of ****** coffee and the constant pressure of being something else
i'm made of holes in the foundation and girls that kiss me just to watch me melt.
because i didn't know what lust was until i touched skin made of broken glass
and i didn't know what hope was until i fell a little too fast.
my story ends before it even starts
because forever is only real if you look like art
but i look like broken promises in an empty hallway
and maybe that's okay.
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 9:40 AM UTC
My curls are everything you wish you knew about me
But it won’t reveal my inner mystery
My hair means young, it means wild, it means free.
My Latina nature sometimes precedes my personality
People try to tell me who I am and they whisper, “I bet she…”
My curls are everything you wish you knew about me
He says, “I know about you Latin girls…” but the only one who can enlighten me about me, is me.
To them I’m nothing more than another Jenny from the Block, but I’m not here to entertain you, let me educate you
My hair means young, it means wild, it means free.
My curls exude confidence, beauty, and *** appeal; they keep secrets, create dreams, and remind me how bright I expect my future to be
My hair does define me. But not as you define it, as I do. I am everything I believe my hair means
My curls are everything you wish you knew about me
Latinas are fierce, they are fire, and they are dangerous. Maybe we’re that way because you won’t let us be.
Can I just be me? Why do I have to be the person you want me to be?
My hair means young, it means wild, it means free.
I’m tired of society’s shackles, so I ignore what society expects me to be
I love my curls, I love them when they’re frizzy, unkempt, and unruly. My curls are me.
My curls are everything you wish you knew about me
My hair means young, it means wild, it means free.
~Karina
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC
I love being Chicana because it gives me a sense of belonging.
I hate being Chicana because I am not a true Latina, nor am I a true American.
I love being Chicana because of the authentic food my family brings to the table.
I hate being Chicana because people assume that all I eat are burritos.
I love being Chicana because I was born with the ability to move my hips and dance in a way most white girls can’t.
I hate being Chicana because I look white and not Mexican.
I love being Chicana because it gives me a reason to embrace a beautiful language.
I hate being Chicana because people automatically think I can speak English and Spanish perfectly.
I love being Chicana because I have the most caring family.
I hate being Chicana because I was raised in a lower-middle class household.
I love being Chicana because I was raised to learn and appreciate the value of everything.
I hate being Chicana because I am expected to bear children and marry a hard-working man.
I love being Chicana because it sets me apart.
I hate being Chicana because I am expected to know American history as well as Mexican history.
I love being Chicana because I was born in a free country.
I hate being Chicana because I feel out of place when I travel to Mexico.
I love being Chicana because I have created goals for myself that no one ever expects me to me reach simply because I am Chicana.
I hate being Chicana because people don’t believe in me or my abilities.
I love being Chicana because I have the strength and willpower to prove them wrong.
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 2:17 PM UTC
“I'm big, you're little.
I'm smart, you're dumb.
I'm right, you're wrong.”
This is what you've taught me,
but I've learned another way.
I try to be so peaceful,
I practice every day.
I've been through quite a lot,
And I've had to be so strong.
My message must have gotten lost,
been fighting for so long.
You raised me as a woman,
Yet you treat me like a man
The way that I'm reacting
often goes against my plan.
I'm trying to reach out and
you call it my excuse.
What you see as parenting,
Feels like abuse.
I feel very threatened and
begin to snap back;
I realize my mistake too late,
I try hard to retract.
I need some space to breathe,
I need a little air...
You get so worked up;
leaving no room for repair.
I try to walk away,
I try to be alone,
But you will never let it be
And that is set in stone.
I feel backed into a corner,
As though I have been trapped.
You push me all my life
And expect that I won't snap.
I am very agile,
But I am just a person.
I try to learn to bend
so the problem will not worsen.
You think that I'm rebellious
And full of disrespect
Whenever I'm defensive
As I am made upset.
I don't want to feel scared
And I don't want to feel pain,
Once you introduce those feelings
It can drive a girl insane.
I'm sorry that I haven't turned out
quite how you expected.
My problems are ignored
And my person feels rejected.
Expose me to the anger of
which I have been subjected...
I forget why I'm hurting and
I follow your objective.
The things that I'm saying
are just sitting in my head,
You may not remember them
as things that you once said.
I don't mean to preach and
I don't try to follow,
But your anger is so loud
That I find mine hard to swallow.
I'll leave if you need me to,
But that's not what i need.
I want to coexist with you,
I'm just not up to your speed.
I need love and I need patience,
But you have your own issues
And you cannot face this.
It's chalked down to
"He's old and he'll
never change his ways"
If this isn't an excuse,
I don't know what more to say.
You think that we are different,
but we are quite the same.
You don't see yourself in me
And I find that quite strange.
You say I make my problems
Into someone else's,
While doing just the same...
Am I the only one who is selfish?
I never mean to do or say
the things that I have
I wish that you could help me out,
but you are just my dad.
You are who you are,
no matter who it affects.
I just have to get over it,
as everyone expects.
I'll try not to be like you;
Try to avoid all of your habits.
The idea is in front of me,
I just can't seem to grab it.
Apr 28, 2017
Apr 28, 2017 at 8:08 AM UTC
gee i like to think of dead it means nearer because deeper firmer
since darker than little round water at one end of the well it’s
too cool to be crooked and it’s too firm to be hard but it’s sharp
and thick and it loves, every old thing falls in rosebugs and
jackknives and kittens and pennies they all sit there looking at
each other having the fastest time because they’ve never met before
dead’s more even than how many ways of sitting on your head your
unnatural hair has in the morning
dead’s clever too like POF goes the alarm off and the little striker
having the best time tickling away everybody’s brain so everybody
just puts out their finger and they stuff the poor thing all full
of fingers
dead has a smile like the nicest man you’ve never met who maybe winks
at you in a streetcar and you pretend you don’t but really you do
see and you are My how glad he winked and hope he’ll do it again
or if it talks about you somewhere behind your back it makes your neck
feel pleasant and stoopid and if dead says may i have this one and
was never introduced you say Yes because you know you want it to dance
with you and it wants to and it can dance and Whocares
dead’s fine like hands do you see that water flowerpots in windows but
they live higher in their house than you so that’s all you see but you
don’t want to
dead’s happy like the way underclothes All so differently solemn and
inti and sitting on one string
dead never says my dear,Time for your musiclesson and you like music and
to have somebody play who can but you know you never can and why have to?
dead’s nice like a dance where you danced simple hours and you take all
your prickly-clothes off and squeeze-into-largeness without one word and
you lie still as anything in largeness and this largeness begins to give
you,the dance all over again and you,feel all again all over the way men
you liked made you feel when they touched you(but that’s not all)because
largeness tells you so you can feel what you made,men feel when,you touched,
them
dead’s sorry like a thistlefluff-thing which goes landing away all by
himself on somebody’s roof or something where who-ever-heard-of-growing
and nobody expects you to anyway
dead says come with me he says(andwhyevernot)into the round well and
see the kitten and the penny and the jackknife and the rosebug
and you
say Sure you say (like that) sure i’ll come with you you say for i
like kittens i do and jackknives i do and pennies i do and rosebugs i do
9.1k
Briskly walking with his head *****
Money and treasure, he aims to get
He is in a stampede, chasing wealth
Acute shortage of ‘humility and gratitude’
Compels him to slaughter a multitude
The desire for more than enough
It has crystallized and made his heart tough
Oblivious about ‘humility and gratitude’
Man agrees to squash the destitute
Unaware, that he may face the same fate
Even then he piles up his plate
When would he be humble and grateful?
For the things which make his life blissful…
Even while swallowing all that is unlawful
He persistently denies being shameful
His conscience reminds him of ‘humility and gratitude’
But he refuses to change his haughty attitude
Let me remind you that life is temporary
Nothing in this world remains stationary
Just like dust your stay is transitory
These two traits, ‘humility and gratitude’
Can help you to acquire beatitude
Don’t forget your final abode
Where good deeds won’t be sold
Remember, the fables of the brave and the bold
All of them possessed ‘humility and gratitude’
From all this, you may conclude
It is the purity of our intentions
What Creator expects from his creation
Everything else is mere illusion
Being a human, demands ‘humility and gratitude’
Oct 24, 2010
Oct 24, 2010 at 7:27 AM UTC
A teacher: The Villain and the Hero
One inspiration, one true motivation
That one person who gives his powerful students
The right direction
That one teacher who fights for the future of others
Who finds success in the success of others
That one person who further form a teacher
Is a human-being
He might seem like a villain to some
But he is a hero to others
He is my hero
Picked me up from the gutter
Made me strong enough to deal with
X equals A to the second power multiplied times two
He is that one teacher who taught me how to leave problems behind
And solve equation easier and faster
That one teacher who became a role model
The perfect inspiration any student needs
His way of teaching the concept
His way of giving us the chance to be teachers our selves
That way of making us the main importance
His way of giving us our place in his class room
Taking possession of our minds and changing them to capable ones
Making each and every one of us students who can solve anything
He expects a lot from all of us, He expects a lot from me
He gives me the challenges that I can handle
Gives me a chance to prove my self
He taught me that X is just a variable
That X is the solution
That you should not be afraid of the variable
That the solution is hidden behind the other factors
That lesson I use in my daily life
I'm not afraid of any problem in any subject
Because he taught me how to deal with problems
And when finding X was hard,
He was there ready to answer my questions
As I walk away during lunch
I wish him a good lunch
But what I'm actually saying is
You have done a lot for these, your students
Now give yourself a break and do something for your self.
He might just be an algebra teacher
Or a staff member at Riverside University High school
Or just Mr. Sepulveda, to some people
But for me he means more than that.
For me he is a hero
That can travel the distance
And can fix any problem with time
He is the Hero who inspires me
He is a teacher
Whom I admire greatly
Not for being a teacher
Or being at Riverside
I admire him because he made me strong
In Algebra
In my problems
In life
And now In my poetry
You sometimes are the villain
For giving me a B in a test
But you are the hero because for every B
I get another challenge
And I know that with your help
I will get an A in Life.
You are the Villain of my mind
But the Hero of my Heart
Thank-you Mr. Sepulveda
Written by: Estrella Luciano
For: A true hero
P.S. I still think I deserved an A on that one test. ;)
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 7:38 PM UTC
Suicide is just a way to leave a problem
Suicide is what no one wants
Suicide is what no one expects
Suicide is a stupid thing
Suicide is… what suicide no one really knows is
Suicide is something I don’t need
Suicide doesn’t solve your problem
Suicide makes you loose what you already have
Suicide is the only thing that makes one problem even bigger
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 1:24 PM UTC
Here you were thinking
Woww life is really great
When you have people that love you
When you have people that cherish you
When you have people that adore you
But what if, just what if thats all just in your mind
What if you made up this fantasy in your head
About everything you've ever wanted
And everything you've ever craved for
And told yourself that it exists
What if you play scenarios that happen in one way and interpret it in three ways
Multiplying the actual meaning of the scenarios
What if you give credit to a person for being themselves but themselves is a liar
What if no matter if that liar is a liar you're happy with it
As the fantasy in your head is unwilling to let go of the part that liar plays
But what if there's more than one liar
What if they're all liars
What if they've only told you what they wanted you to hear because you have high expectations of them
And they know this and you know this
So technically it's not their fault for being on the pedestals you've placed them on
It's not their fault that you're unwilling to accept the garbage of this world
It's not their fault that you keep fantasizing about a happy life with any and everyone that can adore you
What if, just what if you can actually find that someday?
What if you never find that
You're tired of actively searching for people to give you what you can give them
You're tired of being this woman that expects
And expects
And expects
Should you or could you maintain this fantasy without completely
And utterly falling apart
From shame, from pain from torment
Or should you just let it all go and just..
Just ....
-fir.m
Jan 24, 2021
Jan 24, 2021 at 5:44 AM UTC
Sixth grade was the first time I remember feeling out of place in my own body. I tried on a shirt from the year before and realized I wasn't the same size anymore. I felt strange for a moment, then brushed it off. I threw away the shirt the next day. By the end of middle school I knew I was bigger than my friends, but I tried to avoid thinking about it. I just wanted to fit in like the rest of them.
Freshman year I got called fat and decided to make myself invisible. Treated every food as if it an allergy. Lost 30 pounds in 60 days. Told my parents I already ate. Told my friends I was eliminating junk food. Told no one my secret for years.
Gained my weight back then lost it just as quickly. The never ending cycle of starving, binging, purging.
Starving, binging, purging.
Starving, binging, purging.
Nobody notices when I fall off track because disordered eating is only cared about when the victim is skinny enough that you can see the evidence. I have been terrified for four years to speak out for fear nobody would believe me when I told them.
No one expects a bigger girl to not know how to feed herself.
There is something to say about a culture so warped that I get upset by the fact I don't have a stereotypical eating disorder body.
Sometimes I wish it was more obvious, so at least that way they could see how hard I'm trying to be perfect... To fit in.
America, am I not sick enough for you already?
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 11:03 PM UTC
'Are you pleasing those Lions?'
She thinks to herself under Nelson's Column.
'I am no hero of the Nile, nor of Trafalgar. I am an empty vessel.'
City of Angels, yet full of devils. Will she find the exit from Oblivion, in those molten, vermillion revels?
'And will you climb that stairway to heaven? Is it true that what glitters is gold?'
That golden dust, which lies on her beside table, sedative for her sorrows.
'Oh he was a foul coxcomb. England expects every heart will follow its duty!'
She is followed, by those feral eyes;
Those on the underground, those in the streets
And those who she will wish
her eyes will never meet.
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 6:59 PM UTC
For no reason he starts screaming
Then begins to hit you
Shouting for no given purpose
He will begin to bite himself
It is then as nothing happened
He plays with an electronic game
Something then will disrupt him
So begins punching himself in the head
He will not wait his turn
Even when others are already speaking
So starts to bite himself once more
Shouting out threatening behaviour
You can never try to tell him off
It will only make him worse
He believes he is only allowed to shout
He will never understand what you say
The throwing of things will then commence
Showing you outrage and anger
Comes up and shouts in your face
Followed by slapping and hitting you
Then it will all suddenly stop
Begins talking nicely to you
Talking non-stop about his cars
He will then put them all in a line
Come and ask for a cuddle
Not even remember what just happened
For an hour or two he talks politely
You dare not try to change the subject
Never try to break his routine
For he will start swearing at you
Everything will start all over again
Because he will never understand change
He even hates his baby sister
Because he needs all the attention
He has no understanding of sharing
Or how to ever show fair play
He is locked away in his own world
Expects everyone to know what he is thinking
He can not even dress himself
But he has a perfect photographic memory
Others will never come to realise
They will only think the worst of him
They call him names behind his back
All because he is a little different
Autistic children may be a challenge
But remember, they are still children
All they need is understanding
So, will you love him?
copyright Chris Smith 2012
For children with Autism/Asperger's Syndrome
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 2:28 PM UTC
"I'm just tired..."
Excuse one for the silence that ensues.
She listens as he tells her he refuses to hurt her
...even though she aches as the words leave his lips.
Triple chocolate chocolate chip frosting is all she wants.
"I didn't sleep well..."
Excuse two for the agitated responses.
Her best friend has distanced herself
...but expects her to just sit by and wait to be wanted again.
Triple chocolate chocolate chip frosting gags her.
"It was a rough night..."
Excuse three for the silent tears that stream down her face.
Her father tells her she's a spoiled, stupid *****
...but acts like he's a genius that's greater than God.
Food loses its appeal entirely.
"I don't need a mirror to see myself..."
Excuse four for her avoidance of reflective surfaces.
Her mirror has become her worst enemy
...reflecting her flaws and screaming her issues.
She no longer has an appetite.
"I'm fine"
Excuse five... and six for all the things she does in a day.
She's breaking, crying, and dying
...but its been repeated so many times her friends have begun to believe it.
Food now makes her want to throw up.
"Excuses, Excuses"
seven, eight, nine, ten for all the things she needs to deny
her mask of a smile makes everyone believe them all
...no one realizing how unhappy she is
she eats...but only because she doesn't want them to worry.
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 3:08 PM UTC
As one chosen by God, certain attributes
are demonstrated with loving regularity;
despite one’s beliefs, showing kindness
requires a daring of spiritual temerity.
For The Lord expects His children to give
Love towards people without expectations;
know that being tenderhearted, helps one
to naturally extend actions of compassion.
Don’t think lightly, about the richness
of kindness, it may one lead to repentance;
its warm embrace softens the heart, while
Salvation overrides Death’s life sentence.
The merit of kindness can’t be overstated;
being accepting, forgiving without judgment
means not rigidly imposing beliefs on others.
As His children, one should make investments
in the individualized development of others.
With the “Fruit of The Holy Spirit”, growth
and maturation can be properly accelerated
when applying by the principle of God’s oath
to “humbly walk in Love” (as He requires).
Kindness is patient, when paired with respect,
justice, long-suffering and unconditional Love;
the value of kindness, no one should neglect.
.
.
.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Eph 4:32; Gal 5:22-23; Heb 6:10; Rom 2:4;
Luke 6:35; Col 3:12; Prov 3:3; Mica 6:8
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
The Catholic church
endorsed the world today
for a dollar ninety nine.
-Announcement-
Every iPhone owner!
sinner, saint or stoner!
Come now have your sins forgiven!
forgiven if you spill your guts,
if you just confess,
then watch technology do the rest.
Absolution for you and me!
Send your sins across the sea!
your sins will fly up through the sky
encrypted on waves to reach the almighty,
the Vatican! the Pope!
A man of God appointed by the church
yet is he any different than you and me?
We know he sins the same as us,
the book of Romans says its so,*
and do you really think his tall hat
and flowing dress can make him
any more chosen than us?
Can he really hold back lust?
Will he not eventually turn to dust
Just like the rest of us?
is he really any different than us?
How ironic he receives a royalty from
a symbol of the fallen world,
The Apple
computer company,
payment for our absolution…
...So the world fell
by the fruit of a tree
and now expects to be
redeemed the same way.
The truth is not in a man.
the truth is not in the Apple.
The truth is not in the white smoke rising
from the stacks on Sistine Chapel.
The truth cannot be dried up.
The truth cannot be cured.
the truth is not the Pope's to smoke,
To believe it is absurd.
If you want to know the truth,
the truth is in the blood.
The blood covers everything.
Including what is written here.
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 5:54 AM UTC
she races through her mind, all the time
wondering
when?
where?
why?
how?
she sits in the shallows
sighing in her own drowned out howls
wondering
where?
she breathes in the dusty air
scrunching her hair
wondering
why?
but she looks to the sunset
flourishing in its beauty
secretly wishing she was of beauty
she wonders..
how?
she falls back
hoping to be of a catch
she hopes for the best
but expects the worse
because what is worse than what she hasn't already experienced?
she whispers,
I am a useless tinker.
I am delusional.
I am something yet, of nothing.
the wind..
it is what kisses against her cheek
and says,
you may be of the above,
but you are not anything less than a dove.
and I promise, you'll soon get the answer to when.
so please, do not clip your wings,
because who I am to have to caress?
or to softly brush the feathers on your back?
Because you do need an answer to how, correct?
well then let me show you how, and you will get your answer to when.
(m.s]
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 5:43 AM UTC
One
I hate myself.
Two
I'm scared to sleep at night because whenever I close my eyes it's as if the ruthless words of hatred and disgust that you throw at me relentlessly replay over and over in my head as if it was a broken record perched on the top of a dusty shelf that isn't within a reachable distance.
Three
I don't know who I am anymore. I lost her somewhere within this sea of sadness I plunged myself into.
Four
Fat, Ugly, Worthless. Fat, Ugly, Worthless. Fat, Ugly, Worthless. These are the words that taunt me everyday and latch onto me like a bloodthirsty leech that just found a new piece of flesh to feed off of.
Five
Whenever somebody tells me to be who I am and that they won't judge. I laugh. I laugh because being who I am is just a distant memory. I cant be who I am because I lost when I skipped my first meal. I lost who I was when I learned what it felt like to genuinely hate myself. I lost myself when I learned how to numb myself so that I feel nothing at all. Now here I am in present time, curled up in a ball of my own self pity, crying out all the feelings I wish I had.
Six
Somedays, I wish I could find the me that loves me, but I can't because the horrid words that you uttered to me stabbed her over and over again relentlessly and when you finally walked away, she stood there bleeding out all the love and trust she used to have.
Seven
I hate telling people how I really feel because they take it as a yearning for attention, not a cry for help. I hate telling people how I feel because they would treat me as if I was a problem and not a human.
Eight
I just wish that someone would paint on me as if I were a blank canvas and turn me into something magnificent because I am tired of continuously painting
myself in hopes that my tear-stained cheeks, lifeless eyes, and pain will turn me into the beautiful girl society expects me to be.
Nine
I just wish I was normal.
-b.c.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 10:13 PM UTC
So there's this girl; pretty, gorgeous and nice.
Her eyes crinkle when she smiles genuinely
and I hope she knows her beauty eventually.
Because she has a pure soul that can entice.
There's this girl, whose favorite color is blue.
Who stays up past midnight to finish a book
and then falls asleep in her own comfy nook.
Tiredly waking to a pale dawn covered in dew.
There's this girl, that takes up all of my time.
Who lights up my phone all hours of the day
and expects a paragrapth on the 28th of May.
So there's this girl, this girl that I call mine.
Aug 24, 2017
Aug 24, 2017 at 1:58 PM UTC
And more than echoes talk along the walls.
'Tis education forms the common mind. Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclin'd.
I am his Highness' dog at Kew; pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?
Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 9:26 PM UTC
i feel the heat in my cheeks
and from your hands
say it again
when i sleep
when i lay on fields
when i pick on the pedals
whisper it in my ear when we're alone
to me, it lost its meaning, becoming
an overused invaluable phrase
something everyone expects but never gets
i did for sure, and learned my lessons
but from you, it was different
nothing less than my shooting star wish
i landed on the right pedal
you say it when you are
when i think you're not, but you mean it
but you always remind me
and show me you do,
i do too.
Jul 27, 2022
Jul 27, 2022 at 3:56 PM UTC
Polka Dot, Polka Dot, a one pony show
Strange name for a child, but she loves it so
Cheerful wee girl with sweet smile aglow
Adores all round shapes, expects you to know
Her twenty one garments sport assorted dots
Basic eight pairs of footwear, orange and green spots
Gaudy bows for her hair, with colored rings, lots
Dot sees spheres imbedded in her eyes and thoughts
Blankets and curtains, guess what, dots and lace
The spotted mouse toy for the cat to chase
Walls with orbs and specks on all space
In the right light they reflect on your face
Dot's off to school with a polka dot hat
Coat, umbrella with circles, imagine that
Polka dotted notebooks, pencils and backpack
Rides pink spotted two wheeler, parks in bike rack
Poor Polka Dot started feeling sickly ill
Sent to school nurse where she refused a pill
Saw the Doc, calamine lotion and advice to chill
Spots! Chickenpox! Polka Dots notable thrill
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 3:07 PM UTC
‘Tis a paradox life
One picks up a blade
without yet first conquering oneself
One judges
preceding the revision of oneself
One awaits heaven on earth
without attempting to create serendipity for oneself
One expects love
yet can’t foster the courage
to give it to oneself
The very sword that divides
the world
is the same sword that divides oneself
Earth hath no existence
save the reflection one gives
No isolation to be made of
Heaven, Earth, and Hell
since they coexist within
oneself
One may not be able to change the world
but
can’t one change their own?
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 9:09 AM UTC
I honestly think I would be a lot happier without my family.
I constantly get put down when I am with them. I am constantly building my wall when I am with them and I make sure that my mask would never come off. I sometimes get verbally abused by my mother. I constantly get verbally abused and physically abused by my brother. My grandfather constantly expects me to do more than I can emotionally do. My grandmother constantly puts me down. The only person who doesn't ever bring me down is my aunt. My family is toxic to me and I am waiting for them to realize that.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC
A mysterious island stands morosely free,
in the midst of the deep blue sea.
The waves crash upon the shore
covering the evil and all it's gore.
The brown leaves slowly fall,
from the tree that was once tall.
The beauty that lies in seclusion
is merely just an illusion.
Look at the sun shine with all its glory,
the rays trying to tell us a story.
Illusionary beauty that drifts between light and dark,
is a transient allure that will set; leaving a mark.
Clouds of birds rise from the tree
chirping noisily out of key
warning the poor young boy that within
the island was filled with sin.
Behind the rocks lie serpents slithering,
above the trees the eagles are soaring.
To all appearance the island is interesting,
hidden from the eye, evil is lurking.
The island is like a scary dream
where the birds will bitterly scream.
Trees cry out of fears
yet still, no one hears.
Shadows are bright,
grasses are blue,
nothing is right,
no one expects it to.
However out there the world is even more menacing,
destruction, corruption, the world is shattering,
enveloped in the arms of so much wrong
tell the island it did belong.
W.H.Y~
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 8:31 AM UTC