"forign" poems
He stood proud and strong
Against all he knew was wrong
His clothes were made of Knight’s white
In darkness, a beacon so bright
Behind the metal he stood
In the dawn of his waking hour
He stood among the crowds glower
Of daily lives to be saved
No applause was given, and none was craved
Except from a woman young and small
She stood before him tears gleaming
‘for the babe in her arms was screaming
The language he spoke was forign
But for that she would adore him
Because it was the only one she knew
The Knight handed her a vile
With clear instructions for the child
And for her to see him again if it didn’t help
Her tears and joy turned into a small yelp
As she turned and was off with her ill child
He smiled as he watched her go
Another saved and back on the road
The phrase “Hero” and “White Knight” meant nothing to him
Only “PHARMASIST” on his tag in gold trim
Was his motivation for waking each day
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 4:21 PM UTC
Wasting war
Untouched soils, set to rott by a plauge of men
A million miles away
Where the sun sets on hills ill never see.
And the light touches faces ill never meet
The light bends a diffrent way,
Shells raining down upon your feet
Dismay
Devils steal life and spirits reclaim bones
In the war you left me, to fight
Protecting forign homes
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 6:17 AM UTC
hurriedly speaks rain,
sounds like a forign toungue,
in distant night land!
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 12:45 PM UTC
I remember the first time I felt beatiful
It was 1:36 am in the morning and I was still trying to fall into that dark relapse we call sleep.
Tumblr led to to oodles of words saying "you are beautiful and we love you"
and it was all a lie.
I am fat, boisterous, ***** unloveable, spineless, tricky, rude, dumb, mean, weak and awful human being.
As my mother puts it best "You ****
No matter how many times my man would hug me kiss and tell me I am beautiful i would always face the need to tell him to shut up
You could tell all 273 pouds of me to go eat a salad and I wouldn't.
rather I would sulk in those words and add them to my jar of hate for myself and such vile, searing syllables would string together in such colaliton that always included the words FAT and ****
and trusting, foolish me would believe it.
yet I would still deny any and all complements bestowed upon me by those who claim to care and cherish me.
I would systematically shut down every kiss, smile, phrase, and action that would benefit my non existent self confidence.
I say sorry after every opinion I state.
Someone raised me to believe that my ugly words were a disgrace.
My unsightly thoughts that protruded form my mind that was encased in this fat, unhealthy body of mine were a disgrace and needed to apologized for.
Somewhere along the line I was guided to believe I was ugly, forign, and unwanted.
And everyone was told the same message yet they all still scream to the nights of the internet and the literature that they, that you, that I am pretty.
Yet there I would stand, with a knife at hand, waiting for the bravery to strive me to carve my flesh because I thought he didn't love all of me. because they didn't care for the total package I so desparatly tried to sell them.
The first time I felt beautiful wasn't because I finally realized I was always such.
It was because I saw it was okay to love myself without feeling bad.
At 1:36 am there's no one to apologize to.
And for being worth it-- I am not sorry.
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC