"fined" poems
A female tennis player might give
An umpire a piece of her mind
When she disagrees with him.
Consequently, she is fined
Or penalized in other ways.
However, if the player's a male,
He can spit, destroy his racket,
Yell, and viciously assail
The umpire at a tournament.
He could even resort to calling
The ump an "abortion," and little or nothing
Happens to him. Now THAT'S appalling!
A candid man might be considered
"Direct" or "outspoken." Isn't that rich?
But if you are an assertive women,
You are basically called a *****
A man who loudly demonstrates
At a Senate hearing in an angry fashion
Could be considered "aggressive" or even
Be called a man of "impetuous passion."
A woman, however, who interrupts
A Senate hearing with passion hears
Herself being called "hysterical" when
She's led away to Senators' sneers.
Sexism? Discrimination?
Inequality? Status quo?
It certainly appears that way.
The double standard has got to go!
-by Bob B (9-11-18)
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 9:13 AM UTC
sticks and stones may break your bones,
but they will also start fires…
the importance of fire safety isn’t taken lightly,
so please take the time to act politely.
now no offense but from one girl to another,
you’re not Adele, Sean Kingston, or the Jonas Brothers.
do not set fire to the rain that pours,
call 9-1-1 before you burn up on the dance floor.
when the heat settles in and you’re feeling dry,
to your candles and cigarettes please say goodbye.
(since those items are illegal anyways,
you’ll be fined if they are caught ablaze).
this isn’t the Upper Room where fire fell on everyone’s head
keep the Holy Spirit’s fire set in your soul instead.
ignore this advice and your world will crash,
as before your eyes Miller Hall turns to ash.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 10:45 PM UTC
The eyes should be on the target only after opting the goal
"Be Like Cheetah"
-ARAVIND BHARGAVA
"Cheetah getting famished sets the ambition to chase a Deer,
Doesn't stop until the purpose is clear,
Doesn't gets confused by seeing an animal in the middle,
Achieves the goal and makes the deer to *******
You are the Cheetah and deer is the goal,
Other goals are animals in a whole,
Concentrate only on the purpose you have chosen,
Make the goal for you to be frozen.
Frame the aspiration by yourselves you had,
Detach negative from mind which is bad,
Attention only on the ambition you designated,
Do not lose confidence even if you are underestimated,
Add courage, trust, and determination to your mind,
Do not cease until everything is fined.
Be like a cheetah, contrive goals
And be successful in life"
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
I got fined for littering
by the roadside –
just how unjust can the world get, you tell me!
Look, I agree I’m a *****
but think about it -
it’s just the normal thing to do
I was walking along the road
when I felt it was time
and I gave birth to puppies
by Rotweiler Road;
and this dumb guy comes up in his uniform
and gives me a ticket for littering –
well, I was really barking mad
What could I do? Well, at least I bit him on his ***
that’s what I did!
Imagine the temerity, giving me a ticket
for littering – hey, littering is
what ******* do;
it’s the most natural thing to do!
What will you fine next? Breastfeeding in public?
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 7:13 AM UTC
*No, no, no, Dirtbreath. I say we call the big one an elephant,
and the small one a mouse*.
Eve
I'm sure red's a better color for me.
M. Monroe
She has a face that could sink a thousand ships.
Ulysses
*Now that Hawking's dead, I'm the smartest
guy on Earth.*
D. Trump
You're too Jung to understand the Superego.
S. Freud
No. You keep it. I have enough.
B. Graham
Are you sure that's the Delaware?
G. Washington
E=Mc Donalds.
A. Einstein
Go pound salt.
Gandhi
What day is it?
Roosevelt
That's one small.... oops!
N. Armstrong
I don't remember any of my dreams.
M.L. King, Jr.
Hey, John, I can see your house from up here.
Jesus
Beaches, fields, streets, hills. Did I leave anything out?
W. Churchill
Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course I wrote 'em all.
R. Starr
It's just too big to wrap your brain around.
S. Hawking
Don't lose your head. This won't change a thing.
Robespierre
Before I was fined, I walked the line.
J. Cash
Could you lengthen the title and shorten the book?
Tolstoy's editor
What if we put the workers on conveyor belts?
H. Ford
I have a splitting headache... hmmm, interesting.
Oppenheimer
I've never liked orange juice.
N. Brown
Really? You want to blame me?
******
He stings like a butterfly.
S. Liston
#timesup #metoo
A. Boleyn
Mr. Watson. Come here. Spare me a dime?
Bell
Roebuck said he'd be back in ten minutes.
R.W. Sears
To be or to do be do be do.
Shakespeare/Sinatra
*When you call me Whitey, I get cotton pickin ****** off.*
E. Whitney
We're the team to beat!
Toronto Maple Leafs
Don't call me a Mother!
Mother Theresa
Is that a Cuban?
M. Lewinsky
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 6:50 AM UTC
“A man is about as likely to ask for help for depression as to ask for directions, and for much the same reason,” said Real, who struggled with his own depression issues. “It's part of the male code, part of masculine culture.”
~~~
when they ask,
I say, parrying fast,
how you doing?
to the persisters, I mutter fine
which is 100% correct...
been fined for the accumulated
made-mistakes, wrong forks taken,
the weight invisible but the
body sags, nonetheless...
you know they know,
you know their thoughts,
why doesn't he snap out of it,
after all he is a man,
he has always been
what we needed,
why can't he
just go back to the person prior...
this code, is not law,
ten times worse,
genetic and culture passed,
double ******
code so real, like the headaches,
the nightmares, that forbid equanimity...
not true,
we don't expect that of you,
thankful for all you have done,
but eyes betray,
a simpatico misunderstanding,
the instillers, can't take back
what they celebrated previous...
the signals everywhere, few ascertain,
cause the rule is never complain,
don't go near windows,
lest the sunlight diffused, offers no cheer,
but escape temptation ever on offer...
forgive yourself, someone intones,
but what infects my bones,
is non-responsive to the forget antibiotic,
which does not come in pill format
ask me for directions,
I will talk/walk you to your destination,
but when I'm lost,
I'm just a lost man,
who needs to do better,
forgetting is not in my DNA,
but lost is...choking on expectations
of being everyone's savior,
with no one to save you from yourself...
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 6:51 AM UTC
A meek and drake thing?
Honey please, don't make me laugh too hard
That little chuckle was great
My newfound confidence came from the single life baby
My life is better without you
Your life is better without mine
Need to stop bickering before we get fined
I know I ain't gotta love you
And in all honesty, you didn't teach me anything I didn't already know
But, look at the positive note,
I did say that you were the most effective teacher though
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
Whispering your name,
Blood serpenting out of me.
All wanting the same,
The heartache before.
Wasn’t like the first few stabs,
I longing some more.
We miss the old you,
The kind guy who made us cry…
Not this one to view.
Missed you when you asked,
“Is this okay to hold, too?”
For you know - of past.
Hearing your tears lined,
Dressing mixed blood of love fined.
Aug 15, 2023
Aug 15, 2023 at 12:56 AM UTC
K.p’s dad was a Science Fiction author,
While his son and I learned at school.
The teacher talked about planes, bombs, and towers-
Explosions, debris, and jet fuel.
We were poised like guppies, fidgeting with our lips,
Our bodies seemed made of lewd rubber.
Not one of us understood the weight or gravity-
Of one person killing another.
K.p’s dad wrote about a fair United States,
Called: “The Defined Territories,” rather tenacious.
A satire exploring justice with exaggerated sameness-
That most readers found to be tasteless.
His main character was a ‘rookie cop,’
And every skin color was uniform and equal.
Homosexuals gladly aided population control (by not making babies)-
And bullets were designed to be non-lethal.
In the story: a group of smugglers find a stockpile of real guns,
Automatics, ammunition and bombs.
The valiant cop pursues them through page turns and plot-
With sweat budding on his palms.
K.p and I fought over a girl at school,
I broke his nose and we each served detention.
At the end of his dad’s story the smugglers are caught-
Fined $1,000 and given lethal injection.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 12:44 PM UTC
Silly words like daughter and laughter.
Why isn’t dotter and lafter?
Both, moth and mother are confusing.
It all depends on the way you are using
Those mad silly words in our tongue
More bizarre than between and among.
And, of course there are the oughts
And ought nots of enough and thought.
Shouldn’t one sound per word be
Far less typographical insanity?
I mean someone wound a bandage
Around a wound on an appendage.
It’s just plain silliness of a high order.
You fix food for a boarder, not a border.
You can fish for fish, not sheep for sheep.
And, you can’t daydream if you are asleep.
There’s a rhyme about a wood chucking wood
But he only seems to do it if he would.
A dog can bark at a cat on a roof,
Which can be said either like root or woof.
In Britain anyone can go pound on a pound
In America, ground coffee can be on the ground.
And driving a car now your own can be fined.
But finding a free auto is something of a find.
It makes very difficult to tease other tongues.
Not even if you shout at the top of your longues.
Lately we changed things like light and nite
But, not white, night, knight or blight.
We changed you to one letter, a simple ‘u’.
Now, tell me please, was that so hard to dew?
Oh, wait. I mean due. No, I meant do all along.
The way English is, it’s not hard to do it wrong.
Is it its or is it it’s? It’s dependent upon.
What kind of sentence you have going on.
For example if you have an itch on your ****
It’s on your **** but I’ tell you what.
It’s itch is its own, and needs no apostrophe.
Just one more view how silly things can be.
So, until later, when things get better
We had better do it rite to the letter.
Oh, wait, that’s wright. No write, no right.
See, I got it rite before the end of the nite.
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 11:54 PM UTC
Dare I, I ask,
Place light there‘pon
The glare of eyes?
Dare I disturb?
Dare I, remote,
Make time for life,
No absence moaped?
Dare I define
And be r’fined?
Timidity
Not be for me?
Dare I select
Many a dress
All for brides
Who count down time?
Dare I, dare cough
Within your cup?
Dare I, dare kiss
The tender cheek?
Dare I, for sickness
And for health,
Put off the flames
Of blithering?
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 9:34 PM UTC
....your fined-tuned beauty
As if a goddess has been reincarnated
to an embodiment as yours
The way your lushious hair is displaced by the wind
And aligned in a perfect mess after settling down
The eyes of yours, as if they were two ponds
under a full lunar beam
reflecting mysteries into my heart
Your eyelashes are like the grass
surrounding the fathomless pond
covered with glimmering droplets of dew
to complement the eyes of yours
Your face, a mark of true beauty
which signifies your pure heart
And a smile of yours
from your mesmerising lips
can make any mens' day
Your laugh
gigling in shyness
was a habit for you
but it was and will always wil be
beautiful
The humility of yours
was too much
It was just, so wrong to see such a humbled woman
Your humility defeated me
When you are drowning with sadness,
I will be there to rescue you from the horrendous flood
When you are eaten by depression
I will be the one to pull you back up
from the belly of the beast.
When you are cold, alone and lost
I will the Sun to provide you warmth
I will the lustering light to guide you
I will be the one to be by your side
(Insert name here), you truly are the one that I want to look after.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 9:48 AM UTC
You are
You are
a chiseled statue
a myth, animated under my gaze
tangible flesh under my hands
out of my closeted mind
you are
you are
in essence, a beautiful mirror
of a beautiful essence
For Adonis, I come to understand
my feelings are lulled under your tongue
patience
as my blind senses seek them out
you are
you are
a silent strength
owning to yourself
must I thank
you
this dance
of serpents of ether
smoothing feathery scales over the riddling bones of Lilith
I owe this response to you
For the things you stand for, the truth under which a fined tooth comb scrutinizes
grasps of tickling warm fire conjure my intentions
I am a smooth stone, burning by the illicit form and desire of this worldly hearth
under my arms you reach and you soothe
this idea from the small of my back, out of reach
I walk my thoughts further away from you
to objectify the sensations that pursue
Eros draws
his serrated arrow tip alongside my cool unassaulted skin
should I linger here, I'll find it sheared
and my sanctity tampered
use this silence to displace this feeling from outside of me
so I can take my leave
lay frozen still as I divulge and lavish upon you my disgusting intentions
to my absence
so I can leave
and rid myself of uncharacteristic traits
tempting
butterfly wings fluttering against the underside of my skull
I am not tempted
I do not regress
Eros is unwelcome here
when he speaks of this particular entity
under his outstretched upper lip
I am enraged
what can a boy-youth know of the complexities of the feminine spirit
to which the heart works in unison
my feelings are my own, in a shallow drawer where they aren’t tosseled
arent felt
I may feel the warmth of them under my desk
but I refuse to eye the key
where do you get the audacity
to touch and give advice to one as old as me
my feelings belong to me
not the wild underside of a rooting pig
hunt them mercilessly with your arsenal instead
as your mother-Aphrodite
inspires their sloshed pursuit of an obscured truth
put your maquillage on them
and clear your mind of mischievous foolishness
or vain undersanding
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 7:24 AM UTC
I'm so sick of this never ending war of politics,
It doesn't really matter in the end if you're a democrat or republican,
Cept I admit I'm of the far right of this so called fight,
But really now,
Can't we just agree of matters that are so logically right,
Like killing babies is a crime that we cannot deny,
And going out and having a smoke is just a joke,
What are you doing with your life,
And college is just a mind warping society of educational hussies,
Like why can I get fined for parking in the wrong spot,
But if I wanna get high, somehow that's considered fine,
Anyways back to all this war of politicians,
Like let me speak what I believe for God sakes,
Ain't that what this country was based off of,
And somehow you feel compelled justified with all those lies,
Backing up that you need government funding to live a good life,
Well I'm just saying that doesn't fly with me,
Yet you'll turn around and say nasty things,
Nothing personally bro,
I just don't agree with you,
And I said it to your face, like nothing bad at all,
So let me tell it to you straight,
I think I'm right…And in the end we'll learn the hard way,
Won't we?
Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 12:37 PM UTC
curve turn round.
only to fined straight there.
then circle, who was straights uncle.
curve knew him well and was allowed to past.
past was a munite.
curve was confused.
You have to move or you can not win at the time.
Mar 6, 2012
Mar 6, 2012 at 3:55 PM UTC
at news of her death
Not a line of her writing have I
Not a thread of her hair,
No mark of her late time as dame in her dwelling, whereby
I may picture her there;
And in vain do I urge my unsight
To conceive my lost prize
At her close, whom I knew when her dreams were upbrimming with light
And with laughter her eyes.
What scenes spread around her last days,
Sad, shining, or dim?
Did her gifts and compassions enray and enarch her sweet ways
With an aureate nimb?
Or did life-light decline from her years,
And mischances control
Her full day-star; unease, or regret, or forebodings, or fears
Disennoble her soul?
Thus I do but the phantom retain
Of the maiden of yore
As my relic; yet haply the best of her—fined in my brain
It may be the more
That no line of her writing have I,
Nor a thread of her hair,
No mark of her late time as dame in her dwelling, whereby
I may picture her there.
1.3k
The realisation dawned with the gentle swathe of a cool summer morning
Fond thoughts of you and those warm images no longer fills my mind
Memories of yester years and the yearnings of tender lingering swooning
That once rode on every beat of my pacing heart now seem hard to find
Whilst in the depth of me a silence carries a lament chilling with mourning
The years have their stories to tell but stilted performances is not living
Neither are the smiles that hide behind deceits so cold and unkind
We walked the jagged path but your voice sought kinship with axes striking
And when you offered water your eyes showed you had gone blind
Unable to see a soul holding for you nothing but a brimful of loving
Someday somewhere the brightness dims and chimes will be ringing
The late harvest will arrive floating in a wake of unforgiving wind
In your palm the rosy red apple of the past is now bitter and shrivelling
Its a tale told a million times so lets know the scribe not be fined
While the sages ask, what price is truth and harmony for a state of being
Copyright LaurenceA. 4th June 2018. All right reserved
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 9:02 AM UTC
power pose
in front of the angry men
"we're not scared of you"
but they should be
she spits fire bright
from lips she wears matte dark
she's digging the perfectly manicured claws into the palms of her hand
hands that bring incredible generosity
and incredible pain
depending on how audaciously you approach her
with your alcohol-stenched breath
and a body that takes up space
but contains nothing of substance
aside from liquor of course
an empty, angry vessel of wordy slurs and slurred words
she knows they don't deserve her tears
they should feel grateful to receive even a smirk
an ounce of her attention
in this economy
with the men who untuck their shirts after a long day's work
unaware of what the women have been up to
is priceless
you can't commodify what you can't touch
they are not beds waiting for you
to lay down on
to make your lives easier
while you weigh down upon ours
her silk sheet skin
and the comfort of knowing she will be there at 2pm and 2am
this is her home
this body is an address
it is not your residence
loiterers will be fined
she will be fine
power pose
the power grows
this is your power prose
because mama,
you will be fine
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 6:50 PM UTC
now I, Anton, eldest and wisest,
I, nature-appointed leader by age and time,
I call this our first meeting to order
and each shall stand in silence as I read
out the rules and regulations
of this our BOYS ONLY order of OLD RUSSIA,
which I, as my first act as leader, shall name
the Anton Boys Only Group, the name obviously after myself…
And now, Artem stand still and stand at ease as Vladimir here is…
This pose with legs like a soldier's
and with hands at back, back in palm,
this is the way of the obedient follower
though I fear Artem may have a bit of Napoleon in him…
But Anton Boys Only Group we shall be
and in the streets we are destined to meet…
Now for the rules:
I am the leader and I’m always right;
you are the members of the group,
and you will always follow…
now, girls will not be allowed in this group
and no one is to come with any girls
here except me, with Galina once in a while
as she has recently been winking at me in class,
when I do attend class, that is,
and she has sent me notes
to meet her in the old shed past the fields
and once in a while, as I say,
she might be here on our way to said
location during which time
you will all keep guard
and remain as still as the Kremlin guards
or, as I’ve heard, the guards outside
****** England’s Buckingham palace.
Now, Viktor and Georgy, you are hereby fined five coins
for taking a casual attitude while I speak…
Artem, the tallest here after me,
you will be my bearer and cleaner
like carrying things I might have to carry
and dusting my coat before and after meetings
and for which I shall nominate you successor
should I run away with Galina to America…
We shall, however, always remain faithful to Mother Russia
and send you back information as and when necessary;
and also at each meeting, from hence,
each of you will bear gifts for the leader
(who, let me remind you, is myself)
like an apple, a tomato, eggs and sweets
and chicken pieces and such
as and when possible
but always at least one gift each
at each meeting as payment for the privilege
of my leadership;
and meetings will start promptly and be canceled as I wish;
and Vladimir and Bogdan and Andrey
you shall before each meeting, finish such field tasks
as my mother may have assigned me
and which I may then justly apportion to each one of you…
I do not anticipate any questions at this stage our first meeting
and so I announce this meeting over…
And Artem, you might want to dust the coat on my back…
but kindly do ensure your hands are clean first…
Oct 10, 2010
Oct 10, 2010 at 5:47 PM UTC
Read your words of hello on this site when I logged in.
Kept thinking was she posting the words just for this cowboy?
Few weeks ago heard you singing up a storm and so liked it.
Gal I loved what I heard cause you lady are a true songbird.
You beautiful gal sing like a fined tuned sparrow, you got to know it.
Don't take my blue eyes looking into your pretty brown ones to see you something special.
Keep on singing baby doll you got golden pipes and you my kind of woman.
Now I'll be loving me some Ms. Betty Ponder's singing for a long time.
Thank you so kindly my dear for the warm words you wrote to all on this site.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 11:09 PM UTC
There’s always been something controlling me,
I knew, but I knew not what,
Something diverting and foiling me
Since the days that I lay in my cot,
I thought it was simply a parent thing
As they whispered their rules in my ear,
The things that were right and the things that were wrong
And the things I would most have to fear.
They sent me to school and the teachers, too,
Must have read from the very same book,
They always laid blame and they said it the same
And the cane lent a sting to their hook.
‘You’re coming to learn, not to think for yourself,
You’ll repeat everything that I say,
And maybe just some of these rules will stick
If you dwell on the rules every day!’
Then once in the world my employers unfurled
All the rules and the regs I would keep,
I didn’t last long, I’d seen them before
And told them they put me to sleep.
The government fined and unlicensed me
From a book that they said was the law,
The magistrates sat on a heap of these books
As I shrugged and I said, ‘What for?’
I sat in the jail for contempt of court,
Spent plenty of time in my cell,
The world was consumed with a million rules
Designed to consign you to hell.
I watched all the lawyers and prisoners, cops
As they danced to the rules of the cot,
And sensed they were puppets, and most of them fools
Who would baulk at the words, ‘I will not!’
They’d hate to be questioned, they thought they were right,
If you disagreed you were canned,
They’d lock you away for a hospital stay
There was no going back, it was planned.
You had to be made to agree with their way
So they clamped electrodes on your head,
Then slide up the volts, and it wasn’t their fault
If it happened you ended up dead.
They called it Electro-therapy
And said it was doing you good,
But the thoughts in my brain they were never the same
When I came out from under that hood,
I saw the strings jerking from shoulders and heads
In a vision you couldn’t conceive,
And there were the hands that were pulling their strings
When I called out, ‘I don’t believe!’
‘I’ve never believed and I’ll never believe,’
I called, and they all moved away,
A thunderous cracking of mortar and ceiling,
It all fell apart on that day.
The strings fell away from my shoulders and hands
And I knew I was finally free,
And then I called up to the Puppet Master,
‘You won’t be controlling me!’
People were falling all over the place
As he dropped all the strings from his hands,
The bearded Master could see the disaster,
‘You’ve ruined my world and my plans!’
He paused for a moment and then he was gone
Leaving people to blink in the light,
The rules were the rules of the Puppet Master
Now we can decide what is right!
David Lewis Paget
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 8:28 AM UTC
The idea in mined
fragmented peaces
what is proper
I do knot
no
I daunt
or due
eye
pondering
fail two times
beginning to
fined
per haps
the grate est
struggle is
taiping war
in on or
around spell
ink
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 4:33 AM UTC
You see the catz??
They be wack
I spit like that chick Freda Gatz
I got Empire that start fire
Reachin' for theMessiah
Gett the blessin'
From Pac n Big
Even Scarface gave me a bid
Hardest in the pit
Noshit
My lyrics spit harder than a fat brick
Flip it
We livin good yall
And ya never see me talk to the laws
My fashion clean in a gangsta lean
N if you want drama ill call Mr Clean
Thats my gat fool
Soul food for ya body fool
Ya know rules
Dont step out of line
Unless u ready to fined uh
They see through
I feel my hood brothers
Saying they need you
Me im refering too
I keep it street yall
**** all these gay *** **** mayne
Fools wearin' skirts
Then claim they puttin' in work
Soft as **** followin' gimmicks
When i shed wisdom
Everybody gettin lit
Sunshine for yo mind
Still puttin a middle finger to one time
I stay in my grind
I got no time
For haters they only make me greater
How can ya play me they cant slay me
Im on top so cAN they stop me
They were bullet proof vest
I aim high for ya head notyo chest
Gotta alot bones roll with thugs
Jackin' rich ******* hit multiple swtiches
Swang i
On vogues sittin' on fours tippin'
With the wood grain drippin'
Hate them cuz they hate me
Got my whole clique
Backin' me
In the industry they need real emcee
Likeme ya see
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 8:31 AM UTC
Look at how I've controlled your little mind
I find humor in when you think that without me you won’t please yours or any other eye
I can manipulate you into believing that in my absence that word pretty you will never define
Chanel, L’Oreal, Maybelline
what else of me have you prioritized
of what I offer, you own a collection so wide
from your dresser
to your pocket
or in that bag you carry by your side
contouring so you can attain that distinct jaw line
or black winged liner to change the shape of your eye
why haven't you realized?
that you're gradually making me a necessity in your lives
though
of this you have no clue
due to your false judgment which has convinced you to assume
that your flaws should be hidden because they don’t make you, you
The richness of the colors I offer
will keep you satisfied
The cherry red on your lips that feels every breath
you take in
one smudge and you’re ready to reapply
why
do you act as if nature has done some sort of crime?
Let face it if there’s anyone who should be fined
it is I
for deluding you to ignore the innocence of your face
whose beauty you've chose not to embrace
and have resorted to me as your only escape
leaving with what’s beneath to suffocate
making you confident
like fulfilling some need
only for a period of time
I succeed
so on me don’t be too dependent
for I’m just a temporary lie
step outside
keeping in mind
that true beauty radiates from what’s inside
don't take to heart on what they criticize
do not get used to me
because dear
I do not define
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
The beauty of poetry
expands far beyond
the immersive imagery,
tongue-painted metaphors,
and whimsical similes
used to portray the artists'
vivid hallucinations.
No amount of consistent,
thorough editing,
no amount of precision
in thesaurus culminations,
nor the long-learned,
dextrous techniques,
fined-tuned throughout
fortitudinous refinements
undermine the essence:
the exact moment in time
where a poem is
experienced, engaged,
and ultimately conceived---
the epiphany.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 10:34 PM UTC