"genuinity" poems
on a night where we're not quite in
our right minds
we say all sorts of different things,
and who knows how much of it
either of us really means?
but regardless of genuinity,
we said what we wanted to
and in the end, it was for the benefit of who?
then when it came to me, you didn't even say
you had to go.
you were up & done;
~freshly satisfied and ghosting like a pro
Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 7:18 PM UTC
People judge you for who you are.
They always have something to say
Even if, they don't know the real story.
They'll talk about you silently from behind.
You can't blame them.
They don't have something to do.
It's always their way to **** the time
As if doing it will always be fine.
Perhaps, there are emotions involved,
Emotions that stirred them to act that way,
Emotions that they can't handle
And they just talk 'bout you to displace it away.
People will always bring you down
Because they see you'll always have the crown
Symbolizing genuinity and royalty.
Causing you to be the talk of the town.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 9:01 AM UTC
thirteen days left of summer
i am thirteen thirsty
for genuinity today
served me nothing i am
hungry to be eighteen
in grass that is chrome green
feeling ***** but feeling clean &
not apologising for it
Jul 25, 2020
Jul 25, 2020 at 5:56 PM UTC
lost in a strange world
only sense we can find
Is in peering through the keyholes
Of locked doors
we bang our fists
and spread the spark
hoping its sent down wind
setting smoke to the answers within
were drawnto the fire
like moths to a flame
Unwilling to be tamed
by the safety belt of the world
smoke seeps from the lock
and we inhale deep
ravenous for
the taste of something
real
the burn we feel
goes undetected
among the drowning men
In this shallow pool
Of lukewarm genuinity
and over-chlorinated sincerity
but we breath the fumes in
with a whole new strength
we break down the door
unleash the deamons
begging for more
than this
unless
we become one
With the fears,
we become none
so we rise with the deamons
and we rise up
above the conscience
dont give a ****
because we never could fit
Within the boundaries
Of a newborn dying man
these unatainable boundaries
never could never will never can
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
Let the children's laughter, resound in my memory.
Soften my heart, remind me of it's genuinity.
Whenever patience leaves me.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 9:32 AM UTC
two lost souls seep
through like melding poetry
their bodies leak
and conform to genuinity
svelte as the words
and actions they speak
beauty steadily unfolds
within their skin
signifying the imperfections
of perfect harmony
(n.j.)
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 9:02 AM UTC
I liquidate my words with love
As I drink and dine with you
To poison you with my perfect drug
The only stable cure for a world of webs
While you may be caught in mine
I'm no spider but a simple butterfly
Meant to drink the nectar bleeding from your genuinity
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 4:19 AM UTC
How is it even possible
For someone to be
Remotely as great
As you are
To me
How is it even possible
To have all of that
Talent
Looks
Genuinity
Protectiveness
Love
Humour
Care
Wisdom
Warmth
Touch
All in one person
How do you do it
How is it even possible
For you to be all that
In one person
From the beaming white smile
To the comforting hugs
And comforting touch of the knee
To the way you move to music
From the words of wisdom
To the quick wit
From the protective caring type
To the joking around laughing type
How is it possible
For all of that
To be in one package
To be mine
I really don't know
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 8:11 AM UTC
***To whom your eyes are
Turned upon?
Not mine ! For sure ! I must reply -
For now - not blurr -Nor ever Will,
Love Poet Shaffle
Random Music
Notions
And
Coy Emotions
Classics is more ~
Real***
What is your will?
Let me love you. . . darling
***Does Three Moons Time
Fleet Seamlessly
Across The Lines
Of Thouest Adornation
When Deepest
Bliss
Is It Real
Is all this just a
Projection of my Perceptive
Gifted Genuinity
Playing old Tricks
Again***
Let me love you, darling
***My heart skips
A Bit
With Each Encountering
Ink Tinted Poetic Blood
Cunningly Humorous
Painted Visages
Dreams
Teams
Smiles Clusterin'
For The lovely Night***
Let me love you. . .
***Thou Latest Smirks
Do Smirk Lately On !
When Thee ~ my
Blooming Poet
Know Deep
I won't mention
Fancy Faces
Clubs
Revolutions
Writers
Animal Kingdom
Casually
You Are A Human
And A Divination***
***LMLYD
focus me in
The
bronze shadow***
Let me love you darling
My shadow speaks of light
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
I used to believe I knew how to love.
I understood romance, and
the beauty and genuinity of affection.
I was wrong.
I was wrong;
wrong in my understanding of love.
Wrong for believing, impractically,
in the idealisation of a romantic love.
It has become apparent to me -
that love, in meaning,
and understanding,
is about what you can do for another.
It is not affection, affirmation;
support, acceptance, romance;
but, that love is conditional -
until your being can no longer do for someone.
For being so wrong,
wrong in my perception of love -
it has left a bitter-tasting question:
do I know love, and how to give a love,
that only has meaning - and value -
only when you have tangible gain?
What is left of our human emotion,
of the value of abstract feeling,
of a smile, of the journey of knowing,
learning, admiring; a person.
and being hopelessly overt in passion,
interest, intrigue and attraction;
the genuinity of being wholeheartedly,
fanatically, in love with a person.
If the meaning of love is only valued
by what a person can do for you;
do I really want to give a love of that
insignificance?
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 12:09 AM UTC
You say that fate is the reason why we met,
why we fell for each other, why we love.
I believe the separation was more fateful than anything.
I could never say that I never desired to be with you, see my future with you.
But as the lies increased, the meaning of the bond decreased.
You wanted me to be taken by you,
always and forever, but what we had was more so a game of play pretend.
Every time I decided to create the distance and seek something better,
that was when you made the existence of us suddenly appear.
The longer I stayed, the more your empty promises and make believe stories
seemed to become a routine and lacked genuinity.
The good you swore you did was foreign and unknown.
I had enough of the emotional roller coaster I chose to stay on.
The idea of my heart breaking is simply tiring.
So instead of beating around the bush,
I had to let you know that I had to do what was best for me.
You began searching for ways to get me back
when you realized that I was gone for good and doing better without you.
Trying to give my leaving your own meaning is still your way of coping.
The separation was fate.
I can't tell you if it's temporary or permanent.
For now, distance is necessary.
1614
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 1:41 AM UTC
at first glance she does not seem to have a care
it might be the way she flips her hair
but look a little deeper, pick her apart
and suddenly she has a heart
behind glass eyes and tough skin
the apathy runs thin
through her blood that rushes through
her veins like me and you
but she’s different
a little indifferent
broken bones and
a broken home
worked together to create a blissful
hurt creature full
of pain but mostly love
hidden above
the ideas that vulnerability makes you weak
and weakness does not build strength rather it’s a slap on the cheek
so you turn the other cheek and build another wall
to hide from it all
because
no one really cares
or maybe it’s just the way they’ve been flipping their hair
I don’t know
but what I do know
is that she cares
and she is there
for me whenever i’m down
she wipes away my frown
at second glance i see the way she cares
genuinity, something i have only found
in the most broken of people washed up on the ground
trying to fix those around them
because they don’t dare see what is coming from within
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 5:07 PM UTC
All she does is talk
Do you see the practice in her mock
genuinity
'Cause I can
Maybe she put you in a trance with her
plagiarised poetry and false inflections
When I was standing there, my arms
crossed, my mouth agape with eternal o's resounding from it
-cj
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
New..sance
New since
My heart truly feels like a nuisance to my soul...
It beats but in harmony with my soul..? I question
I question my genuinity...
My life, my purpose..like one if I'm wasting...
...it's like how does one remain calm
How can one be themselves without thinking about it
...I crave the day where I am free from this zombie apocalypse
A day where I can wake up and breathe...
Smell flowers not weeds
Wake up positive and bright
Salivating the moment in its glory...
But fantasy I tell you this day that I wait for Is false...
It's not a lie but it's a dream...
I know dreams come true but...when it comes to your heart...
That my friend is real and you come to know that fantasies are not welcome there...
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 10:56 PM UTC
the seven things i cannot share
the seven things i cannot share:
1. anxiety (a storm that never ends, the rain slashing my cheeks when it used to softly brush the hair from my eyes)
2. fear (constant; the breath that i pull from my lungs or the thoughts that run rampant in my mind)
i. of things i cannot see (of uncertainty; of the mystics beneath the waves that can grab my ankles and pull me beneath)
ii. of the darkness (the only thing that makes me blind; the only thing that takes away the power that i am afraid of, yet have learned to depend on, like my feet upon clotted soil)
iii. of silence (the thing that dampens the cacophonous torrent to leave a blank slate, begging to be filled with words i am unable to say)
iv. of emotion (the thing that rules in a diamond-encrusted throne in my mind; the thing that has given and taken ten times more away; the thing that has ruined more than built)
3. quiet (the few words on the slate that accompany my chalk-caked, raw fingers; the few words i was able to share under cover of anonymity)
4. truth (the harsh mistress that holds me by a chain and muzzles my philosophies to speak only the sentences required, the syllables necessary)
5. memory (a liquid picture of the grand and the traitorous that falls through my fingers like oil)
6. pain (the intensity that demands to be soft; the thing that i can relate to the most and suffer from in its similarity)
7. happiness (the genuinity that can be used as a weapon, sharpened steel and a weighted hilt; the thing that can build skyscrapers and grasp the clouds to also start wars)
and what i wish i could:
myself (every ounce of stardust, of sea foam, and of burning light)
i. hope (the unerring sense of optimism: that this star won’t explode, but glow brightly with the power of a thousand suns)
ii. dreams (the seemingly impossible and “just within reach”, the moon at the height of day)
iii. loves (the strength with which one can be weak; the strings and cans through which i can share the things i never thought i could, ears and mouths pressed to rough edges with the intent of nothing more than to be there)
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 2:42 PM UTC
i can't feel anything anymore.
everything just seems numb,
dull.
what am i living for?
why was i born?
i feel like a ship's hull;
drowned.
i cant lull myself to sleep anymore.
it seems like the thoughts have their own sound.
then, when i laughed,
the genuinity of the joy felt nice,
it made my cheeks feel warm,
now, it just feels like ice.
now, it hurts to laugh.
i feel monotonous, like a droid.
im wheezing away, trying to stay happy,
but now, all i feel is a void.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 1:40 AM UTC