"humaness" poems
"The problem is..."
he drawls
"that it is'nt us who see people differently from you,
but you see things different from us. We are not the problem you are.
You see the basest humans when we paint majestic creatures,
we tell stories of superheroes with no faults,
we expect our boyfriends to mirror night skies in their comfort,
and speak like Kerouac. Kiss our scars like white girl tumblr pictures."
"People like you," he says;
"...Dont ever **** yourselves. You're used to the disappointment. Your used to kissing your boyfriends sweaty upper lips and smelling...just that. You clean up the puke on bathroom floors without complaining because you know what people look like from the inside. That's why your art will never be good. Thats why today in class when I asked you to paint a human body cut open, you drew a colorless man with his organs splaying out of him, and ******* he laughs..
"I have to fold petals into my boyfriends armpits just to stand the sight of him
our ******* is'nt *******
its ********** Supposedly.
When I tell this story later,
I'll leave out the spit and saliva and how the human body
aint that pretty, especially gay *** Even 6 ft 3 chiseled muscle of it, ill write metaphors about his eyes and similes to his fists,
you will tell us about the humaness of his breath and how
it annoyingly kept you up at night,
you will speak of storms but not of the ones in his eyes.
The ones in your belly
when he farts during *** and you will
describe every putrid detail, like the fact that waking up in the morning aint so pretty,
morning breath is something we dreamers leave out in movies. And, it must be exhausting
living here seeing things how they really are, but atleast when you expect disappointment, theres room for surprise.
People like me expect the good and are disappointed when its ****** on."
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 6:04 PM UTC
The driver
she wears mascara
the
last remnant of her humaness
she's always been a
little blessed
she's met her death
many times.
You can hear
her coming on
the winds
freight train sounds
through the Jeffrey Pines
this train isn't
Bound for Glory
this train's bound
for eternity
a one way
ticket with
no return.
Though I've always
rooted for reincarnation.
This train
stops for gamblers
midnight ramblers
**** addled ******
addicts caught between
nodding out and cleaning
the refrigerator with a tooth brush.
Even saints on board will stay.
The oblivion express
your going to hop
on board when your
ticket is punched,
the ticket taker
laughs and smiles
his last glimpse
of humaness.
She's the driver
he's the turnstile
they were once
an item
before they were delivered
to their
new careers
never to see each
other again
except through the
glass of her engine.
The fire is stoked
the express becomes
a local
stopping for each
and every
daily passenger
you can hear that
whistle blow.
You don't know where you're
headed
you just know
you gotta go.
Her mascara drips down
her face
you and she
the ticket taker
too
there is no escape
the oblivion express
just around the corner
and
on its way.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
The first time I saw you, you we were 18 years old and you were in jean shorts
You said I had cool hair and we agreed to start a band.
I thought you were so hyper and that we could never have a sustaining friendship.
But life's funny like that
You told me of your dad
Your hyperness; My sombreness
Our delicateness; Our humaness
We are girls too big for this world
And the thing is:
we didn't start a band
but as we go through life we'll always have each other's hands
Because we're scared as hell
And you might have forgotten all the things you used to love
But I'll be there to remind you as we're growing up
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 9:50 AM UTC
We think the world is full of endless flight,
With sunlight that comes each morning true,
But pages of the words we write our lives upon,
Soon have an ending that will come with night.
Each moment, as we savor all its essense in,
Comes soft or sometimes like a rushing crowd,
We try like mad to assemble all these thoughts,
But some get lost along life's lonesome highway road.
Who dares to want to live forever?
Who wants to believe forever?
What makes this passing life so ever sweet,
Is the beginning, middle, and end forever.
To want our souls to live beyond our earthly gates,
So human in its humaness, we can't deny it so,
That how we watch the clock tick tock away the day,
We truly know that nothing once can be eternal here.
We want to have our cake and eat it, too,
But when the Maker comes, our time is through,
Do not feed fear when this time swiftly comes,
For it is nature's course to take this path.
Who dares to want to live forever?
Who wants to believe forever?
What makes this passing life so ever sweet,
Is the beginning, middle, and the end forever.
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 1:51 PM UTC
Realizations may be the result of thoughts expressed in Idioms.
Realization is the dread that hits when the Realization comes.
Coming to realization as would to Reluctant conclusion.
Acceptance Of bare fragile humaness; sentimental delusion.
Realization is the cognition of the outcome of the act.
Realization comes As you contemplate a deep sobering fact.
Oh! The Realization Numbs somewhat like distant Rolling drums.
Realizing o' so Jarringly That all you've got left are the Crumbs.
Happy Birthday
Sobering Ain't It!
Mar 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025 at 11:04 AM UTC
I am not crazy.
Not to the naked eye.
On the inside however,
my humaness shines.
Yes I am crazy.
Revealing it only to you.
My love, we love to argue,
but I admit that you always knew...
The most sane thing I've done,
is be crazy about you.
Oct 20, 2024
Oct 20, 2024 at 10:48 AM UTC
!
She has
a strength inside her
that seeps out too bright
They falter to stand next to her
||
under her shadow
||
||
\\\//____
...
she has had pain
they have held it to her face
and flung it at her again and again
...
*
*
she
will not
falter;
*
but
when
the waves
of sorrow crash
< upon her heart 3
salt pouring into her
tightly bound wounds
she wrenches herself
together, gracefully
retreats to slip
away
and
agonisingly cry
till her liquid baubles
of pain are crystal dry
another layer of strength
crystallising her
in mind
...
yet
they only
see her strength
as a poison to overcome
and her foot steps though sure,
are placed with such delicate care
that no one has everthe courage
to follow her or dare Walk
on the high road to
redemption
...
instead they stay stuck in thier own reflection of pride
Made up of excuses and lies.
...
*
*
**
she is a
being of
light
*
*and
strength
despite her
humaness
* *and
frailtie
they are gifts
and can not be
un bestowed*
~ or ~
*\ /
torn her
from*
....
they can only create an ill-usion that satisfies themselves
In to a comfortable delusion on their road to perdition.
...
**
*
In
her
strength
she will always
overcome, it was
written on her**
soul
.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 3:46 AM UTC
on days like this i find myself needing humans.
surrounded by beings, yet never a time when i feel more distant.
human beings hurt me
a lot of the time.
but only because i let them.
i am human.
my humaness hurts me
more of the time.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 8:02 PM UTC
These are words driven
By the imposition of a million dollar lie
Upon the tenderness of our humaness
Lies crafted in hearts of men
To annihilate the good works
Of our forebears who stood for truth and justice
#McNaevets - 2015
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 5:41 PM UTC