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Idolize my life,
its not that great.

Idolize my death,
it had no purpose.

Idolize my breath,
your on the right track.

Idolize my hate,
achievement unlocked.

Idolize my God,
it's a dead end.
Randy Johnson Mar 2016
Even though false idols like Baal no longer exist, many people still idolize things today.
These people idolize money and *** when they should only idolize Jehovah God always.
God is offended when people idolize things other than him, it's something that he hates.
If you're such a person, you'd better change because it's something God won't tolerate.
God is the only one who should be idolized, not other wicked things.
People who idolize anything other than God had better watch out because disaster is what it will bring.
igc May 2015
I saw the best minds of my generation congested and
polluted overdosing on irrelevance

Abandoned abused replaced
Fed to the thought police
Corrected corrupted
Declining the potential to be heard in
exchange for the opportunity to be documented

Lives being lived according to unfeasible standards
You either make it or you don’t
there’s no in between
there’s no maybe
there’s no equal

Left to meander through the conceived thoughts of others
decisions being made
moves being made
eulogies being made

nothings real
nothing’s right
nothing’s honest
nothing thought up matters


Who in the safety of their homes were taught respect
are told to mask their emotions
Identities saved for the weak
Only to be showcased when conducive

Who pump iron into their veins
looking for an angry fix of acceptance
Sweat streams surge down their backs
Failure prominent in their thoughts
Motivation blessing their features
the Devil clever in disguise

Who see little white fields of fairy dust
a never ending landscape of courage
giving them superpowers beyond belief

Nothing beats the freedom of being told
You can fly

Who dream of equality behind closed eyes
But render to imposed birth rights when open
The upper hand implying more than height
and executing more force than necessary to move them

It’s all about the cause until you’re indubitably
the effect

Who tuck monsters into their beds
Forgetting to check closets for skeletons not quite left behind
in the path of carefully chaotic self destruction
Conveniently purging themselves of words whispered
in the throes of passion
Forced upon the ears of all naive enough to listen

Who carelessly expend countless hours playing with
condescending pawns disguised as adults
All grown up with no where to go
Replacing quality with quantity
Leaving long dull trails of breadcrumbs
leading to hearts long since lost
Never to be recovered again

Who follow sexuality by the book
doing this to get that for this him them who what when where
Why does the finish line have to be covered with brightly colored lace and muffled drunk cries chanting no

Who stare dead straight into the soul of love but never
Never into her eyes
Told she is not worthy of being addressed directly
Fingers itching to cop a feel
Only to discover the body is but a passage to her straight dead soul


Who trade in their voice mind and individuality
for half assed smiles and superficial men
As the face of a leviathan nicknamed acceptance
hands them a paycheck they’ve worked too
night day night night hard to refuse

Who idolize the feel of phantom limbs of lovers past
Twisted words convoluting their heads
Forcing on masks of pure heroine
at the sight of scars left on the soul
Scratching at the need to feel wanted
But cowering at the ability to truly be heard

Who have perfected the art of parallel painting
Elegant red streaks hidden beneath layers of
choppy dark colored hate covering pretty pale limbs
Seeming to fade as colorlessly caked on insecurities susurrate bitter-sweet nothings that curl themselves just inside her mutilated skin

Who scavenged their looks from the bottom of holes
they’re expected to clamber out of
Smiling pretty smiling
Being treated to complimentary meals
Only to be served plates full of disappointment.

Who crave companion’s flaws
in ruthless attempts to satisfy their hunger for compassion
Selfless beings dedicated to less than noble attempts at vanquish
The call for heat too satisfying to refuse the trade off forever uselessly launching themselves into razor sharp blades
aimed at ***** sleeves

Who see soft lips as cushion enough to fall from towers built of fear
Dragging moist palms across pavement thighs
Tearing at the seams holding their
hearts together

Who cower behind brick wall appearances
fruitlessly clutching on to ideas reserved for the most fortunate
Scaring away potential with claws that seemingly only come
out to play in the face of acceptance

Who’s sick stick thin limbs trail their worn down
fingernails in an effort mar skin no one can see
Streaks titillate their bright red scalps
A reflection of their underlying journey

Who disgorge yesterday's meal from stomachs long before empty
Blood spewing from the mouth an open wound
Continuously sewed up but never stitched tight correctly
Wiring shut opinions but never gorged enough to
muzzle their Howls



Ideas, calm and collected have long been hijacked and invaded by Hestia

Hestia! Consent! Content! Acceptance!
Long nights and roid rage men!
Two faces fighting a losing battle!
Girls playing mom! Boys playing war!
Ill ridden parents still pledging to the
United States of Controlling Media!

Hestia! Hestia!
Overall reign of Hestia!
Hestia the beautiful!
Incarcerated Hestia!
Hestia the ******!

Hestia twisted and shaped to form the voice of conformity
Hestia constantly watching over and monitoring
Hestia being told what to ******* think

Hestia seeping creeping sneaking into the
darkest crevices of our minds
Hestia when least expected coming out to say
Hello

Too late! Hestia’s already made herself at home
Wedged between the rooks of your biggest fear and
burrowed deep into the folds of
Your  Worst  Nightmare

Stuck in a constant battle between
rejecting Hestia,
and accepting her.
This was obviously inspired by Allen Ginsberg's "Howl."
Considering it was, at the time, the voice of that generation, Welcome to Generation Y.
This is a work in progress.
Randy Johnson Dec 2016
There are celebrities who people idolize.
They may not know it but it's wrong in God's eyes.
Jehovah God is the only one who deserves to be idolized.
This may anger some people and some may be surprised.
It's okay for people to respect celebrities and to be their fans.
But we should idolize only God and never any woman or man.
We shouldn't idolize people because it's a terrible sin.
If you idolize somebody, please let it come to an end.
The Mind-Slaves
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking.
Why do we treat Obedience with more reverence than we do Critical Thinking?
(CONTROL)
Obedience is not a ******* acceptable substitute for Critical Thinking.
Obedience is not inherently bad, but unquestioning Obedience is tantamount to Fascism.
To Terrorism. To Americanism. To Consumerism. To Militarism. To Racism. To Sexism.
Obedience can never, ever stand in place of Critical Thinking.

If you want to get immersed
in a true story:
live your own life.

That is, of course,
unless you've allowed it to be set up
in such a way
that it is no longer
a true story.
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not an acceptable ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not so much your friend as is Critical Thinking!
Obedience is a ******* marionette string for those in power!
Obedience ***** up Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* virtue unless you're a Slave!
Obedience is not a ******* virtue unless you're a Servant!
Obedience is not a ******* virtue unless you're a Tyrant!
Obedience is not a ******* virtue unless you're a Fascist!
Obedience is not a ******* virtue unless you're a egocentric power-hungry ****!
Your Obedience is not equivalent to your ******* worth, nor is your ******* wealth.
The number of people who idolize you is not a quantification of how good you are!

Obedience is a way to circumvent Critical Thinking!
Obedience is a way to usurp Critical Thinking!
Obedience stifles Critical Thinking!

Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
*
Obedience is not a ******* substitute for Critical Thinking!
A demon masquerading
as the almighty dollar;
she is cunning,
and she is tricky.
She is beguiling,
and she is illusory.

Deceitful and avaricious,
yet believers follow
aimlessly. To have her
in your possession is
nothing like how it
feels to be stripped of her.

Those who succumb to
her seduction are granted
luxury and leisure;
the pledge to idolize
her mindlessly is
engraved into our brains.

Indigence, starvation;
the deprivation of the
green goddess is malicious.
Free yourselves from the hold
she has on you; from the
worldly power she possesses.
MONEY IS NOT EVERYTHING!
lupush May 2014
Your name has meaning not to me
for I want the bat and not some trick
you use to hide your nightly guise,
the one I’ve come to
idolize

There’s many reasons you and I
have chased the cats and not the mice:
the rats have trouble keeping up,
the cats will scratch you but with
love

I don’t seek the face behind the mask
for I want layers upon layers—
upon dusk
to hide a face that might prove
you’re just a man and I’m a
fool
After some heavy DCnU reading, and my eternal fascination for the Joker, I’ve come to have much Batman-related inspiration. This time in particular, about Joker’s adoration with Batman and the fact he never cared about his real identity because, for him, Batman isn't a man with a mask but darkness itself. I strongly believe that Joker's head can't handle the fact Batman could be anyone but... well, Batman.
lost in my mind Mar 2015
My Therapist said that I have abandonment issues,
says that I tend to idolize the people who leave me,
She says that I build shrines for those who leave,
and tombs for those who stay.
Randy Johnson Jan 2016
People in the Bible worshipped idols time and time again.
They did it even though doing so was a terrible sin.
People once worshipped Baal, it was one of the idols.
People refused to worship God even though it was vital.

When God saw people worshipping idols, it really angered him.
They had to suffer the Lord's wrath when he punished them.
Some of those people's cities were destroyed and some became slaves.
Worshipping idols was a stupid and shameful way for them to behave.

Some people still have idols, one of which is movie stars.
Jehovah God is watching, he knows who these people are.
The Lord is the only one who people should idolize.
If you worship him, it is a decision that is very wise.
Joshua Haines Jul 2014
Dear Talia,

I don't want to be a tortured artist.
I don't want to be depressed and I don't want to be anxious.
Competitive sadness and disorders treated like accessories disgust me.

The world glamorizes mental illness, and I don't understand why. There is nothing romantic about being mentally ill just like how there's nothing glamorous about a broken wrist or a torn medial collateral ligament. There's nothing romantic about constantly being afraid that the world will fold in itself and **** you with it. There's nothing romantic about feeling like you could break down and cry at any moment.

This is the first piece I've written while being medicated.

I want it to be Christmas already.

The world dreams itself a halo, but can only attain horns. The halo is an illusion and the horns are an idea.

I'm due to take another Lorazepam. Would I look cool to the kids who idolize dysfunction and misinterpret pain as style, if I were to take one of these, with water and a distant glance, in front of them? Geez, to have their approval would to have everything and nothing at all.

I'm not sure why I've written as much about this as I have.

You.

It is 2:48 am and all I can think about, in this moment, is you.

I can't wait to spend Christmas with you. I can't wait to wear bad Christmas sweaters, and be the couple everyone hates, as we sing Christmas carols and spread holiday cheer.

I wrote this poem a few minutes ago. Sometime around 2:30 am. I'm not sure. I'm exhausted:

I sat on the edge of my bed, and on the edge of my life,
medicated to the point of pointlessness. Soft.
It was the nineteenth, not the twentieth,
and I wished I saw the fireworks with her fifteen days earlier.

My gasps tore the shingles off of the house.
And they hung suspended above the hole in the roof.
And God stared down into my room, as the shingles swirled skyward.
"I see you," I said, "but I don't believe in you."

I left home and ran until I was a dream that had passed itself.


I hope that was okay.

I love you.


Yours,

Joshua Haines
Ston Poet Dec 2015
(Smoking on that drill2)..., Yeah (***** that ****2)..(Smoking on that drill3)..Yeah..(***** that ****2)..I stay smoking on (that ****2)..Yeah..I stay smoking on (that drill2)..Aye *****..(that ****2)..(Aye Im smoking on that drill3)..Yeah ***** (that ****3)..Uhh..

I ain't popping no pills , I ain't snorting nothing man, I ain't injecting myself, Im just rolling no mollies, I stay smoking on that drill, Yeah I stay smoking on (that ****
3)..*****.. I'm getting straight to the business my *****, what's the deal, Uhh,Yeah, what's the deal with all of these buster ***** *** made fakes that's in the rap game mane, yall giving them **** ****** praises , that ain't Gods, they Satan peasants, Uhh..
I only give praises to the Heavenly Father & Jesus Christ , you should too, homie, I'm just giving out good advice, don't Idolize  me my *****, I'm not a God, even thou I'm fly, even tho I ryhme so nice, dude you can be fly too, you gotta have confidence within you, look up to yourself my *****, you gotta encourage yourself, when nobody else isn't..

Uhh, Aye I stay smoking on that drill, Yeah I stay smoking on (that ****3)..So what man, Yeah mane,I'm smoking on that drill..(it helps me2)..be a better me, it medicates all my pain , it helps me meditate all of my depression away..So why the freak they got it illegalized for mane..Aye
The government is so evil homie, they the Occult , they so Satanic mane..The government been tryna destroy my reputation.. I know they after me,Yeah mane..They after me homie, wanna take my life away, Yeah they wanna put me 6 feet under with a closed casket service, mane, because all I rymhe about is the truth homie, Aye I ain't running ..noo..I won't stop tho, no I won't dawg, if death do comes then, Imma fight death all the way back where it camed from, They can throw me how much money they want to, but I won't take it,noo My soul is worth more than gold, All I need is Jesus, he saved you & me from ever being defeated, so he's the only Idol to me man..Aye..

(I stay smoking on that drill Yeah2)..(I stay smoking on that ****,Yeah2)..(smoking on that drill2)..***** Yeah (that ****3)..(Uhh2)..(Yeah2)..my ***** this ain't no gangster music & I ain't no gangster Imma King Imma real ***** & , Imma Rebel too mane,..Ayo, I bet I could rap some **** that every hood ***** will blast & feel tho homie..Aye..I ain't no **** either, but I'm thugging against America..**** em Uhh..
I'm so g, my *****, I'm me Yeah ***** , I'm who I always wanted to be my *****..so **** what a doubter & a hater gone think about this one...because

(***** I rise3)..(***** I strive3)..Yeah *****.. (I rise2)..(***** I strive2)..(***** I ride2)..for OFTR only & my ***** (thats Fo life3)..Yeah..(***** I rise3)..(***** I strive3)..***** I rise..(***** I fly2)..(***** I rise2)..(***** I strive2)..***** I rise ***** I fly Aye..
(Smoking on that drill
2)..Yeah (***** that ****2)..Yeah *****..I stay smoking on that ****, Yeah I stay smoking on that ****..***** I'm (smoking on that drill3)..(***** that ****2)..
Aye *****..

/(I strive *2)..(I rise
2)..(I fly2)../3
Smoking on that drill,..
(Yeah ***** that ****..that ****..Uhh*3)
stonpoet.tumblr.com
NoFucksGiven Feb 2018
"I love you"

No that's no right
It can't be
No not in your eyes
Love it too much of a strong word
There is warmth in your eyes...
No not warmth, desire
You have a beautiful lopsided smile...
No not smile, a smirk
I feel butterflies when we touch...
No not butterflies, moths
There is no warmth in this relationship
Just lust
This isn't what I asked for
To become your toy
This isn't what I wanted
To sleep in an empty bed

"I adore you"

No that's not true
You never pay attention to Me
Just my body
What it can give you
My personality and emotions
Don't exist

"I idolize you"

Mm try again
Every time we go out
Your eyes aren't trained on me
Or the newest watch in the window
But on the other girl
The one a few feet away from you
Returning that look

No it's not
"I love you"
Nor is it
"I adore you"
Not even close to
"I idolize you"
No...none of that

"I lust for you"

Yeah, this is it
This is all that this relationship is built on

Lust.
Ethan Solouki Jul 2013
It is more important to love than to be loved,
It is more important to be loved than to love.
It means more to care than to be cared for,
It means more to be cared for than to care.
It is more meaningful to think of someone than to be thought of,
It is more meaningful to be thought of than to think of someone.
It is purpose that gives my life meaning,
It is life that gives purpose a meaning.
Is it myself that makes me feel alive,
Is it you that makes me feel alive.
What is it?
The word it…
What is the word “it”?
It is better to be idolized than to idolize,
Is it better to idolize than to be idolized.
It is satisfying to influence the world,
Without the world influencing you.
It is, It is.
I am sure of it.
Korey Miller Nov 2012
let's make a deal.
uncap the bottle,
discover my greatest work-
a soliloquy on sentience,
performed to an empty room.
the walls
are bleeding lead poisoning again
and i
am leaving logic behind.


the air is crisp on my wretched skin
and as the world dies
its aching breath helps me
to finally feel alive.
i am pure white.

let me rise, enlightened.
as i float, breathless,
i can feel, finally,
the weight of my bones.
make me into a sparrow,
feast upon my marrow,
so i can become porous-
but leave my hollow mind whole.

idolize me.
spin my disease into pure beauty.
a stone-cold rose
grounds the coffin for my dreams,
liberating me from responsibility.
awaken me.
strip my heavy corpse of its wings,
eviscerate the breath from my lungs
cease my tangibility


oh glory,
build me up
strip me down
to my knuckles and teeth,
to the weathered bone.
remove the bloodstains from my home.

if i bleed now
it will be beautiful
when i fall, i
will glorify the cement, decorate it
with my shining insides
when i come down
it will be stunning
it will be dreadful
and i will be resplendent


-but the delivery
won't change the content
candy wrapping
can't cover up the stench of death-

i have given up
on purging the necrosis from my tissue
i have found
this tantalizing muse once again, and
once more i
will let her put cigarettes out
on my sorry skin.

i've grown to love the smell,
that acrid poison
it almost covers up the scars
she leaves-

if i can make dying sound beautiful
then to hell
with us all
if you could romanticise suicide
you'd be rotting
too
Randy Johnson Jul 2016
If I was a celebrity, I wouldn't want to be idolized.
You may think that is dumb and you may be surprised.
But God is the only one who deserves to be the people's idol.
Worshipping him isn't only the right thing to do, it's also vital.
If I was a celebrity who people idolize, I would ask them not to idolize me anymore.
God is the only one who should be idolized because in the end, he will be our savior.
AB Dec 2013
We overpay to over-eat,
then we feverously attempt
to burn this excess.

To hide our gluttony,
we pay for the gym,
burning precious electricity.

To fit the mold,
of celebrities we pay to idolize,
we desperately lust for perfection.

This vicious cycle,
of over-indulgence combined with
expensive repercussions fuels our desire
to appear modest.
Raphael Uzor Mar 2014
Its an addiction...

When you relish every word
And see beauty in written lines,
Seeing them romance each other
While everyone see paragraphs.

Its an addiction...

When you idolize pens like brush
And adore papers like canvas,
When you see things in 4D
In a three dimensional world!

Its an addiction...

When you see colorful shades of gray
While everyone sees blacks and whites,
When you see words come alive
And embark on every poetic voyage.

Its an addiction...

When everything is beautiful
Be it tragic, happy or vague,
As long it's expressed in words
In a seamless, caressing way!

Its an addiction...

When you peek into Hellopoetry
When you know you should be working,
When you see poetry in everything
And must hurry to write and share.

It's an addiction...*

When you read these lines of mine
And proceed to click ♥
Yes! I am deeply addicted!
And no! I do not need a shrink!


© Raphael Uzor
Peter Kiggin Nov 2017
Idolize


Light beams into my eyes to my surprise
Headlamps coming from the other side compromise
The noise of the road beneath me humming like prayer device
Sky black and trees a silhouette to light coming and going rationalize
A newborn baby's eyes are so fragile their pigment changes and materialize
If all the wonder is within then I don't want to see the sun again ever rise.
Romantic arson,
a thousand lovers burning
to the blooming flowers
of my accelerant:
amoral, senseless rage.

Because I do not
or will not consider
another vice
for your confessional.

Come shed indifference.
Thumb the holy water font.
Theorize inconclusive evidence
of life apart from love.

Crawl into
the vacant church
which is my heart.
Idolize Me.
Harsh Apr 2016
To be perfectly honest this was one of the more difficult poems to string together for the sheer fear of possibly jinxing it,
as there appears to be a pattern to every story involving a boy and me lately,
which begins with the same overrated butterflies in the stomach sensation followed by a poem,
sleepless nights, cigarettes, ***** and a tragic ending.
So having reached the poem stage my instincts and the part of my brain receptive to pain are already bracing themselves,
I can feel them clenching in my gut.  
As this three nights stand situation burns the lines between a *******, friendship with benefits and something to the extent of a budding romance,
my expectations are protesting against being so fiercely oppressed,
frankly they are getting out of control,
as the dislike of not wanting to be clingy, chivalry of not wanting to subdue to any labels nor the fear of yet another heartbreak itself,
are no longer sufficient to keep these rising hopes in place.
Ironically, when I think of you I think more of who I become when I'm with you, than actually you,
even though I do sincerely adore you. Very much.
I'm bemused by how comfortable I feel in my own skin,
naked and burnished, next to your warm, ivory touch.
Each time you trail your fingers down my body and take in a quick breath as if you were seeing me for the very first time,
I treasure the look in your eyes for later in the week when the going gets tough.
I idolize your rough, blistered, bleeding palms with all its calluses for they mirror my own much subtle bruises,
representing our shared interest, commitment, strength and transformation.
Your new found superpower to completely eradicate my necessity to socially smoke when socializing with you, speaks for itself really,
and we haven't even got to the laughter, the banter, the top notch sarcasm, the conversation, the warmest embrace,
breakfast ending in a ridiculously serious spectacle of coffee making,
which I thoroughly enjoy from the best seat in the kitchen wearing your shirt which fits me far more perfectly,
and the skip in my step as I head home.
So when the day comes for the revolution, of my expectations, overthrowing this rather tiresome governance of fear,
I just might pop the question, will you be my forever one night stand? ,
in the hope that you might just say yes...
This poem is the sole property of me and cannot be copied or used without permission. [Copyright G.H. Rodrigo 10/04/2016]
Eli Smith Jan 2015
Before you fall in love with a suicidal girl
Don't.
Suicide can not be romanticized and though she might idolize you
Remember that you may not be enough.
Remember that this world may never be enough.
Demons don't just go away, sometimes they just hide in the shadows.
And even at the highest noon they are there. Just smaller. The sun will go down.
She will always have shadows.
Remember that no matter what you do
You are irrelevant in her master plan.
She will plan out her letters in your arms.
When she is silent hold her. Make her know that she is loved, it may not be enough but those few moments in your arms might make her think twice.
But don't assume for one second you will be her savior.
When you see cuts on her wrists do not beg her to stop.
She won't.
She will cut deeper for letting you see her weak.
She will try to be strong.
She will put on a show for you. She will make you forget she was ever depressed.
Remember that sunsets can make you forget that night is bound to follow.
Know that night will follow.
When you get her final love letter to you
Ignore the fact that it is stained in blood.
Do not pour your precious time.into wondering if she suffered.
She will write her apologies in her best handwriting.
Do not read it.
Get in your car and drive.
Drive to the nearest bar and read the letter through hazy bloodshot eyes.
Do not blame yourself.
Do not look for moments you could have done something different.
It'll drive you crazy.
Before you fall in love with a suicidal girl.
Don't.
Hanna Kelley Feb 2015
Suicide was never the answer to your temporary problems
And now I read about your death through the newspaper columns
" teen boy found dead with suicide letter..."
I believed you when you said you were feeling better...

This poem is for the suicidal boys that never get recognized
Suicide is never the right thing to idolize!
Put down the razor, or your item of torture
You get pushed passed your limits, and it hurts, sure...
But that doesn't mean you can't make it through your temporary problem
Do you really want to be idolized through the newspaper column?
Andre Baez Jun 2013
I’d treat you like a queen, but what does it mean?
Not a thing, cause I’m new, and you want the old
You tell me nothing even matters, you lie to me
Warmth of your touch… yes, your lie's so bold

Your bright eyes go along your light skin
The sun’s rays reflect off of your soft lips
They beckon me to come and share in sin
You edge closer to me and meet my kiss

Still you leave me for farther oceans and seas
As I wander along the sandy shores of the floor
You visit the pyramids while in Egyptian suites
I’m a lost hieroglyphic, buried, yet abhorred

You are to me, the purest of all beauty
Yet, when your eyes look upon mine
You only see, nothing, my invisibility
Your gorgeous curves are all aligned

Perfectly, within the lovely artistry
Of Gods perfection within his creation
You are the pinnacle of his legacy
The title of angel on the brink of elation

In fact, angels swoon over your statuesque
Physique, you are the Earth and the Air
Blended together to form a new element
This element is named after you, your hair,

Your talk along with the grace of your walk
That defines your blissful ****** function
Your art and the minds you begin to spark
That brings all men into fateful unison

Although you lie to them, and to me
We all still pursue you all the same
In their eyes they see a new thing
I see the girl who needs my last name

However, you hold back your love
You keep it hidden away and safe
I look for it in the heavens above
Because with you I reach that place

You are the reason I open my eyes at night
And explore dreams every single morning
You are the queen who rules with might
I am nothing but a peasant adoring

As you play in my hair and laugh loudly
While we share in time together
I push your lies aside and speak proudly
About how you make me better

Because I am nothing but a poor devil
Who will love you beyond all time
If you were to love me I’d pick up a shovel
Hold it tight, and then bury myself alive

I would sell my entire soul in turn
If it meant keeping you from harm
I would buy a home then watch it burn
If it meant healing all of your scars

I wouldn’t rewrite the entire bible
Just a single commandment of truth
The one about worshiping false idols
Because women should idolize you

You are the reason for everything
I wrote enough poems for books
Each line twisting and turning
Relating back to each side of you

People tell me you can’t express love
As openly to women anymore
I agree, disagree; I don’t know enough
These poems are the blueprint to my soul

These words will never reach you anyway
So let the lovely lies live on
Cleopatra, for you I’ll always pray
Maybe one day, you’ll call me, home.
Homunculus Dec 2014
Get impassioned, get informed, get involved, because our ignorance makes us impotent, irrational, idiotic invalids, incapable of inquiry, and strips us of our individuality. Time to step up and take back what's yours. Hedge fund managers and securities brokers hold a cumulative trillion + dollars in assets. While you're living on minimum wage, working 2 jobs, struggling with job security, or drowning in student debts; they rake in 9 figure incomes by gambling with other people's money, and get tax breaks that come out of your pocket. Your voice is not insignificant, you are just as important as the people you idolize. Believe in yourself and extend it to others. We are the collective majority, and we have been conned. Together, we have the power to make a change for the better, so spread the word, and tell em you heard: get impassioned, get informed, get involved.
Moon Humor Jan 2016
Two o'clock sober
might still be hungover
you're begging for my tongue while I beg for your love.
I never thought I'd love like this,
one-sided and founded on ever unstable lust. I shouldn't even call this love,
I think it's love and I think you're just in it for a ****. Writing
poems about you is "hard" because I can't admit
what I can't bring myself to say out loud. You told me your secrets
and I swallowed the seeds, letting your admissions
bloom inside of me.
How could I have been so stupid? I should have known
you would plant a garden just to leave.
Girls made of gardens wither without affection
I must not be your favorite flower. I don't think I ever was
but you keep coming around just to see my petals unfold
every spring and I let you leave dew drops all over me

We've done this before. Lines and rows of blooming pinks and red,
scratches, finger prints, bruises, hickeys, marks that fade
after a few days. No matter how many days it's been, weeks, months
we find our way back to the patch of wildflowers
where we first decided to make love.
There will always be changes to the scenery and
I can't think of anyone else that I would plant myself anywhere with.
One of us is always leaving but somehow the wind blows us back home.

I'm not religious anymore but the Ten Commandments
seared inside of my psyche flash
before my eyes and I hear myself repeating
"Thou shalt have no other gods before me"
while I make myself ****** to the pictures you sent me. One night,
I wrote everything about you that I idolized in big letters on lined paper
and ripped it into squares. I twisted the paper bits
into your godly shape and whispered
your name as I dropped you into a floral candle and let the flame
eat your tiny body. Have you ever felt crazy?
Have you ever been so in love that it makes you crazy?
Until you've made a lover into an effigy
and tried to force your passion for them to rest
by cremating their paper remains
I don't know if you understand how close love and crazy really are.

I swear. I swear, I'm done.

But I'm not done. I pretend to forget
the way your name feels for a while, I pretend to idolize
other things but when you appear
uninvited to my dreams I can't forget the things I've seen. You kiss
my forehead as midday sun
settles on my skin and a garden of roses
start to bud where you've planted love. You pick the most precious one
and when you cut the stem I **** awake, facing the candle
where I tried to destroy what I thought of you. I don't know
why I see you everywhere and I don't know why
I keep asking questions that I'll never have the answers to.

Once you're actually here my laugh bubbles
from my throat and chrysanthemums and lilacs and daisies
fly out. When you kiss me I swear I feel ivy
entwining itself into my hair and my eyelashes grow tuberose.
I bloom with you and when you leave I become winter, waiting for you
to tend me. Every day with you is spring
and I know exactly how fast the seasons change. "Thou shalt not covet"
but god, I want you
I want you to trust me with everything and I want you to sow more seeds.
I can't tell you the last time I read my bible,
I thought it didn't have a hold over me anymore but I want you
to choose me and I don't want
to feel like I'm setting myself up for heartbreak anymore.

I've been thinking
about touching you
for so long
And now that I am
it feels euphoric

Your skin,
as soft as
I remember it

I melt into your words. I catch the flame
flickering on my bookshelf
where I burned your likeness and look into your eyes
flashing my most devilish smile.
You're back in my room and you've covered my body with sticky honeysuckles
and forget-me-nots. You, imperfect as anyone else but I see you
like you're some walking god. You, human as me. Your hands
left prints of hibiscus on my skin and when you leave
I open my diary to the page where I pressed cherry blossoms and maple
leaves and they fall as I write about how happy I am to see you.

"I just don't think that men like you like women like me who have moonstone eyes and crazy day dreams, women who dot their poems with inky pearl tears, pressed poplar leaves and, well, I wanted to write you a poem but I can’t think of any creative words. I want you to read how beautiful you make me, how your eyes drink me in, how I overflow for you. I want you to feel the conflict in my heart... so rarely that I see you but every time we reunite we are even better than the last. I don't know if you want to read it but I want to write you a poem. I want to write you a poem that makes you cringe because I write with honesty. I want you to feel the rhythm of my words the way we feel the rhythm of our bodies. You should be happy to inspire someone’s poetry. You, you don’t love me. And that’s fine, because I’ll always look back at you and see sunshine streams on your skin."

My room is all white and pink, floral print and my African violet.
You look perfect in the rosy glow
of my feminine sanctuary and I feel so appealing,
I trust you enough to show you everything, I say, luxuriating the words in the sunlight.
I want to absorb this moment to keep me warm. When I lay alone
thinking of drifting to sleep in your arms, it is this moment
with you around me,
the way you kiss my face like I mean something to you
and this is the place I go, when I swear
all of this means nothing to you. Doesn't everyone want to feel home?
Maybe I think being with you feels like the kind of home
with a nice garden I want to live in. Maybe you feel it too.

Maybe I'm reading too far into everything
and not saying enough of anything
maybe both of us say nothing hoping the other will
be the one to admit the feeling
but you, as soon as you leave and I tell myself I’m done. Swearing
I've burned up the last of you, I’ll never do it again.

I can't stop thinking about you

And I'm back thinking about you, too.
Word *****
I'll be at the ball in my tutu and fishnets
While I idolize the girls with the long hair and dresses
The money thrown at them by loving parents
While my outfit is made up of spare change and short tresses
But I'll wear my mohawk high because even though
I look out of place and not as royal as you
I am me and true to my name
While you are just the same ******* dolled up
13 Apr 2014
Indolence always gets the best of me
I feel like a jab
painting images without metaphors,
avoiding the intense visions of the lot
Indifferent, inebriated.
All demons slayed. Spread eagle.
Life seems to be a hassle,
in two ways on the same street
I am the attention *****
who wants to be left alone
Pushing them back only draws them closer
Today is no different,
a muse, a good laugh, a realization
my schedule is full again.

I just want to spend my time
anything else lacks luster
Goal: (noun)
1. aim, 2. end, 3. target, 4. purpose,
5. intention, 6. objective, 7. ambition,
I have none.
You can't force me, try as you may.
What does pique my interest is art
If I ever get over self indulgence,
which I will market emphatically,
I may consider starting a career
Controversies are fun, so is ******
to balance them both in one hand
and collect with the other
that is art.
Form, the world has never seen.
Abstract ambiguity rewriting itself.
Displeasing parents and loved ones around.
The one the perverts idolize
the critics would bow in awe to
Ah yes...

I feel so lazy.
Posted on 14th October 2013 9:27am.
Charlie Chirico Jan 2013
I killed myself.

A Tuesday. Fresh cut grass, the smell welcoming, as if to announce Spring and rebirth. Then you think of Hay Fever and laugh at the simplicity we hold for nature. Leave it. Don't branch off. Knock on wood.

I coughed on a stranger. It was unintentional. My apology was sincere, as was his vulgarity. Made me think: This ******* probably eats with his mouth open. Food flying. Spit soaring. An intentional imbecile. To be noted: If I see this man again, I will sneeze on him.

Fast food is absolutely disgusting, but there is an occasional craving. When you lift the top bun of a cheeseburger and it gets stuck to the cheese. That's all I have to say about that. The quality of the food has put us in a pickle.

I'm tired. I'm sure there is a mattress salesman close by to sell me a dream. What is my most comfortable thread count? Futon it is!

I haven't killed myself, yet, but I've died a long time ago.

But, dying and killing yourself
aren't one in the same.
The dead walk.
Ones who ****
idolize permanence.
I.
I don't idolize famous people
I like some of them, I even love some of them,
But I don't really get it.

Here's someone who I am allowed to know,
If I have the right sources.
And if I have a lot of the right sources,
for one shining moment that I will never forget,
They will know me, and forget me.

It's none of my business, whether they want it or not.
But a famous person doesn't love me or need me.

I know people love famous people, and that's good.
I like that, I like unconditional positive regard based
on a display of talent, artwork, or whatever it is.

I know they change lives.

I know my life has been changed by many people, famous or not.

People I love, especially.

And I am haunted by how much my life has been changed by girls who I have been attracted to. Who I have been in love with.
Some of them thought they were in love with me, but my conclusion is that that was an incorrect assessment.

Feelings change, but mine haven't. I wish they would, yeah, love is not equal in that way.

I would do anything for either of my ex-girlfriends and I still love them so much and I am so proud of them, because they're amazing!

It's over and that's good. Since it's good, why do I still need to love them? Is there a function for that?

Should I idolize celebrities instead?
Do you?
Do you hate all of your ex's for breaking your hearts, or cheating on you, or mistreating you, or dumping you?
Or do you love them? Do you really love them and hope they are one hundred times happier now than they ever were with you?
Are you like me?
Or am I different?

II.
I remember walking into Hollister.
I wanted the brightest t-shirts with the biggest letters across them.
I wanted to be "cool".

I was shy, I was reserved.
I was fitting in, while cracking out of a shell.

Everyone learns to poke holes in the shell that are big enough so that people can identify you, so that you can express yourself within the confines of what is socially acceptable.

Then you have the big hole in your shell, in the back, where nobody sees. Late at night, sometimes, around people you love, you crawl out of the shell and say "This is me! This is my religion, politics, desires, semblance of hope, semblance of confidence."

If you fully emerge from the shell and shed your shame,
and fight to hold yourself back, who are you?
Who do you think you are?
Do I know you?
Are you telling me all of this because you're some kind of desperate freak?

I love myself and it's just that I can't be ashamed anymore.
It's full throttle, it's heart on the sleeve, it's love!
It's I love you! And I love this life! And I need that.
I need that.

I don't want a shell. I want wings and a tidal wave.
Are you like me?
Or am I different?

III.
I sometimes look up when I walk around.
I don't put headphones in, I like to hear what's happening,
And I secretly hope someone will say my name to get my attention and I will hear them.

But! I love music so much, especially rap music.
It's so emotional that is has shaped who I am and my views and understandings of life.

When I walk around, I play the music in my head, silently.

It says things like,
"I've seen it happen, I see it happen, I see it always.
I still be screaming, I see his demons in empty hallways."

"Keep all your dreams, keep standing tall.
If you are strong, you cannot fall.
There is a voice inside I saw,
So smile, when you can."

"When the four corners of this cocoon collide,
You'll slip through the cracks hoping that you'll survive.
Gather your wit, take a deep look inside,
Are you really who they idolize? To **** a Butterfly."

Instead of, "I want you. I need you. Please love me. Am I ugly?
Do I look horrible today? Am I being judged? Am I developing a negative reputation and becoming a social pariah? Is that good?
Are you all better off without me?"

I love music, but in censors my thoughts by haunting me every day.
Should I stop it and let the fear sink in and steer into the skid and embrace what my mind has for me, behind the musical curtain?
Is that why everyone wears headphones in public?
Are you like me?
Or am I different?

IV.
I love people so much, I want to love people for my whole life.
I hope I can help someone, somewhere, someday.
That's all I want.
I don't want to expect anything, or ask for anything, because I've been down that road and it made me annoy people I love until they turned on me.
I want a family, and to be in love, not in that order.
But how?
Are you like me?
Or am I different?
Just a rant/slam poem kind of thing
Megan Kirkham May 2014
I used to idolize you
And I could never believe
You would deliberately hurt me
You didn't mean it
It wasn’t your fault
A million excuses
Exchanged for a million bruises
That lined my skin
In semi-permanent remembrance
of you

Five years later
I can still see those black and blue marks
That once blotted my skin
But now I am awake
And no longer oblivious
To your lies

5 years of slumber
1,825 days
Or 43,800 hours
And even 2,628,000 minutes
Of being blind to you

But the mathematics do not matter
Because you do not measure
Pain the same way
You measure time

Finally speaking, 5 years later
After being silenced by my own mind
Trapped by the fear that no one
Would understand
Let alone care

5 years of being scared and afraid
Like an animal
Who was hit too many times
Only because I was too ignorant
To run from what I thought
Was love

And now it has been three days
Since his return
Old wounds have resurfaced
5 years worth of scars
Of bruises
Of horrible, horrible memories
All oppressed by my notion
Of what love really was

I can feel my skin become tender
From where you used to abuse
Your power

But the difference now
Is that I am strong
I am not measly
Nor weak
And I will never cower
Below your shadow again
5 years of recovery
And torture and pain

But now I can live
The rest of my life
An eternity with an infinite
Amount of possibilities
Because I am not scared

Not anymore
Because after 5 years of being weak
I arise from my hibernation
And come out courageous
Taz Apr 2020
Sun kissed skin
Honey brown eyes
This woman, I idolize
She is a wonderful surprise
Day in, day out
This angel,
Makes my heart beat out of my chest
She is nothing like the rest
Unique & sweet
Loving as can be
Like I said before, she is an angel I adore
In this world I could ask for nothing more
For her in my arms
My lucky charm
My other half, I may say
I cherish this woman every day
Intoxicating smile that catches you at hello
Her vibe keeps you feeling mellow
A kiss that sends chills down my body
A feeling I will always miss
A feeling that puts me at bliss
Her hugs so warm & safe
The sad world, is not so sad when she is in-front of me
In fact, the world absolutely disappears
Nor the good, the bad, or the in-between
Leaving two souls falling whole
Never wanting to let go
Hand in hand
Hearts in another
I fall for her everyday
Feeling like summer I may say
When her passionate side comes about
Almost every emotion I have screams out
****, yet lovely
Her intelligence is my key
A mind so beautiful, I am blessed to see
Fiery, fierce spirit
No other woman could even get near it
Determined to the bones
This woman feels like my home.
Written By: Lauren Dolbow
madilouhew Feb 2016
love - noun
deep affection, fondness, intimacy
-where your jaw drops to the floor and
your heart beats out of your chest like a cartoon character
past tense
-where time slowed down, or even came to a stop
because you locked eyes with this one person across the room
and your entire future flashed through your mind
like a projector streaming home videos on a
sheet hung upon your living room wall
but it didnt last and eventually time caught back up
and you ran out of film
so again you were stuck holding your own hand

love - verb
adoration, worship, idolize
do you love me?
could you ever love me?

dont answer that
i dont understand the meaning, and i dont mind if i die trying to
Alysha Marie Oct 2011
before i bury myself
in the fallen leaves,
i paint
a golden picture. idolize
unreality. force open a dream
of spring
and what it should mean.
and whenever i see two ready eyes like the
gestation of a new cosmos,
my anxious fingers tinker about;
there are fruit and flower
worth the time it takes to focus upon
like a man who is
worth the time it takes to love--
but romance is not natural
for such an animal
as i have been,
unread, not belonging within, clattering, preparing false wings
to abandon
a family. i grow old and young inside depths
that i cave
in.
attuned to noise, some crazy flute,
i go cacophonous toward the sound of sickness,
calling the name of no one into random abysses;
an abstract heart is precious, the selfish self-hatred however
, a practically biological second nature.
bred. arterial, laced
in a genome.
it has nothing to do with womanhood
god
or area. now by the side of whatever is wrong,
future dies
prematurely.
observe the scolding history
rearticulating itself. how i pressed barely visible
to wrought iron and plexiglass
kneeling to whitecoats, a sinkhole stomach pillfilled,
for extended temporarity a frenzy lent to me,
i drew unintending daggers. there was no defense,
but there was no bravery either.
escape and escape and escape and
claim loyalty and value to
somethings, but i did not follow
to that other end
where light lived.
where they were talking
and talking and talking about me
and shaking my shoulders,
jumping in after me,
i wandered persistently so far
so deep and so dark until
they dared not enter. fascinating strangeness,
still they are afraid of what they do not know
and i continue to be afraid of what i do
know.
miserable as unwanted rain,
lamenting the instability and
inventorying uncontrolled damages.
i have no reliable property, i have no money, i squander potential,
restlessly i change shape at night like a fabled figure,
like my father, like a jeckyll, like a hyde, like an
addict or
adolescent rat.
reclawed, hand out free kisses, rest in forbidden laps,
ashamed at the summit,
with a deceptive shadow, i don
a foiled crown gleaming
and scream into the fabricated storm.
the trees all crack their necks.
by morning i slap myself and untangle my hair and
play with my suitcase.
flipping through pages of what i wish i was,
what many people wish they were.
staring at the washing machine long-motionless,
i have a favorite stained outfit, a few clean shirts.
i will probably learn to anticlimactically dump into the sink the crumbs
that collect at the bottom
of the toaster. i will stop running
and take a time out in a place with no season
or color soon
but before i step further into the same street
godwilling i say something
important.

dwelt,
dwelling,
spend years dwelling in what pools
afterward.
there is my face in blood,
there is my face in ketchup,
there is my face in the grocery store floor,
there is my face in front of a padlocked gate,
there is my face in liquor ambivalent, in *****,
there is my face in ravines unflashlit,
there is my face in a wadded poem,
there is my face
in my hands.
jeffrey conyers Aug 2012
Some memories are too good to be forgotten.
This love we share is too good to be forgotten.
I'm not bragging or even boasting.
But if you analyze the facts.
And edit down the fiction.
Even you must admit this love too good to be forgotten.

Who you going to find to idolize you so?
Who instantly rush home from work?
To be by your side.
And I still to this day do this.
Even you must honestly state.
This love(we share) is too good to be forgotten

Anything you need.
Anything you wanted.
I have provided to you.
All because I love you.
Destiny Diadem Jun 2013
The moment we made that memorable
Exodus from her sacred womb,
The veil of suspicion floated from their eyes
And draped our lives like a burden.
Then we have to spend the rest of our days
Trying to rip the veil of suspicion from our souls
In vain.
When they see us, we are marked
Because of their fear.
They hate us, fear us, and aim to control us.
Why?

Why do you despise the blackest of God's divine creation
But pursue dark, insignificant objects?
You're even intimated by the tiniest of our sons,
Hunting them to slaughter them like immoral doctrines.

I feel sorry for you,
The ones who fear us but idolize us.
I feel sorry for you,
The ones who despise us yet envy us.
I feel sorry for you
Along with the ones who are totally sightless,
Unaware of the systematic wickedness
That begins soon after our memorable Exodus
From mother Africa's womb.

— The End —