"idolized" poems
Hell no, you don't want to be compared to one of those models idolized in magazines.
True beauty lies outside the fashion industry’s visual constructions.
Fall in love with what you never expected to love, imperfection.
Brand-less self expression.
There are no cameras or flashing lights there
or visual effects.
We come in different range of sizes.
Shame on shallow marketing.
A pretty face can have nasty vices.
Hearts of Gold, now those aren't sold.
- C.Ek
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
I try to close my eyes
Because when they are open I tend to realize
things I hate to admit but that I despise
To me it is no surprise
to see the division on each side
Stereotypes are being idolized
Human beings are not being individualized
not being identified
Just stamp them with a number
222-33-4444
Send them to school to make them
Smarter
but dumber
to the reality
They take the unbalanced lead
of what stares at me
but moves passed me
I am followed by the past me
Inevitably,
we are
who we are destined to be
Because of what was taught to me
I have chains on my wrists
in this country
but they say I am free
while they distract me
subtract me
yes, me
but you too
Because we are one but we are two
Unity
You and me
me and you
Don't lose yourself
if you are lost, I am too
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 4:16 AM UTC
My sassy gay friend
Is not an accessory
When you go rooting through the closet and find him
Lacing straight ties into chains
Do not think that he will complete your outfit
Just because a rainbow holds the hues that you were looking for
Haven’t you seen that bruises also bloom in shades of purple and blue
Fading into green and yellow
With red far too often escaping veins that are supposed to hold it in
Haven’t you seen what marks us
And brings our identity to the surface of our skin
When closet doors are slammed too often against our hands
My sassy gay friend
Is not a decoration
You do not get to wear him at your hip
To flaunt your acceptance
And claim symbiosis
As if he needs you to navigate the streets of heteronormativity
Cutting short his words when communication is the best thing we have
And when speaking fails us we resort to spending an afternoon
Sending smoke signals into the sky
Waiting for security in the focus that it takes just to
Breathe
My sassy gay friend
Is not a collectible
You do not get to gather us up into a complete set
To line us neatly in an array
Of rarities and charities
And alternative identities
Until you feel sufficiently well rounded
In your attempted diversity
My sassy gay friend
Is not an icon
A token character
Or comic relief
My sassy gay friend
Is not meant to be romanticized
Idolized
Or fetishized
He is human
I am human
You are human
And if we see each other as sparkles and rhinestones
We're all going to lose all the value
That can't be found on price tags
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 9:20 PM UTC
I sit back on the computer,
Browsing through the pages of those I grew up with
Those people who thought they knew everything about me
I sit back and see what they’ve made of themselves
This girl is single, living alone with her four cats
This other girl now has two kids, unmarried and no degree
This girl is engaged to her high school sweetheart, yet they don’t look happy
This other couple broke up, wait they’re back together, nope spoke too soon
This guy is working at the local supermarket, never went to college after his arrest
This guy gained a few pounds, no longer the star athlete
This guy dropped off the map
See being the quiet girl, I learned secrets
I knew the deepest secrets of every single one of these people
Because while they sat in the back of the room chattering on about their so called problems
I was sitting in the front,
Listening
This girl had two boyfriends, and even more flings
This girl slept with four guys in one night
This girl’s boyfriend cheated on her, over and over again
This couple would sneak off in between classes, during lunch, or school assemblies
This guy was the trophy child, who gave away free drugs to his friends hidden inside pens
This guy was the quarterback; everything handed to him on a golden platter
This guy was the school stud who was hiding a relationship with his boyfriend by sleeping with every girl he could
Back then I listened because I wanted to feel apart of something bigger
I wanted to be one of them,
I wanted to be invited to all those weekend bashes
I wanted to be the girl people felt awed by, inspired by, idolized
I wanted to be part of the “in” crowd
So I stood there, day after day
As they teased me
Berated me
Shattered my confidence
Tearing apart everything I was
Telling me I would never amount to anything
Telling me I was fat, ugly, stupid
That I unworthy of love
Telling me…
I
Was
Nothing
Let them tell me that today
I see everything of what they have become
Those people I wanted to be are no longer there
Their confidence shattered by reality
The best days of their life ended the day they left high school
Mine on the other hand are just beginning
I am the girl who is wanted
I’m the girl who can go wild
I’m the girl who can be passionate
I’m the girl who is adventurous
I’m the girl who brings pride
I’m the girl who is the athlete
I'm the girl who travels the world
I’m the girl who is unashamed of who I am
Because by pushing me out
My oppressors gave me everything I needed
The strength to try
The courage to dream
The ability to think
The confidence to be unique
Independence to thrive
But more than anything
My oppressors gave me desire
Desire to be more than they believed I could be
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
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.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 3:14 PM UTC
Dear Mama, you taught me well,
but that's something I'd never tell,
cause complacency is what you preached,
so silence is what I reached.
Mama, you taught me well,
to sit and fiddle, do not wail,
but my emotions are worth much more,
when they aren't hidden behind the door.
Mama, you taught me well,
wishing for naught, I let myself dwell,
and so I idolized all the wrong people,
and followed demands like sheeple.
Mama, you taught me well,
to allow myself to mask my yell,
my tears, my frigid fears, my feelings unspoken,
when my heart lay here so broken.
Mama, you taught me well,
to lock myself into my own cell,
and now I feel I need release,
my soul deserves to be at peace.
Dear Mama, you taught me well,
but this sort of life I wish to quell,
and so I say I must change,
your lessons to me, estrange.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 1:37 PM UTC
Pretty ugly
They claim she’s beautiful; I wanna watch her fall,
Because she sold her soul and now I just want her type to go!
Plastic surgery; left her with a ruined nose,
Her heart has decomposed and a---ll I can scream is n---o!!!
She has a striking face;
Shallow beauty is a disgrace.
They say she must be idolized;
No! She must be improved upon
And replaced!
She’s pretty ugly, she’s pretty ugly;
She’s pretty ugly to a loser who looks like me.
She’s pretty ugly, she’s pretty ugly;
She’s pretty ugly to a loser who looks like me.
Where are the nice ones?
I hate the rich ones!
The golden age of beauty has come and gone
And all that is left, to use, are the blondes!
I hate vanity! I have vanity;
I hate everything that you have done,
To challenge me with your beauty.
She’s pretty ugly, she’s pretty ugly;
She’s pretty ugly to a loser who looks like me.
She’s pretty ugly, she’s pretty ugly;
She’s pretty ugly to a loser who looks like me.
She lacks sympathy; I lack mercy!
There is no dignity in selling your body to a magazine page.
These are just my conscious thoughts;
Where are the pretty souls?
There is nothing left inside to hide
And all we have to use are these knowledge bombs of rage.
*(Repeat these lines as the song becomes quieter and fades out.)
*She’s pretty ugly, she’s pretty ugly;
She’s pretty ugly,
Yeah she’s s---o,
Very, pretty, ugly.
She’s pretty ugly, she’s pretty ugly;
She’s pretty ugly,
Yeah she’s s---o,
Very, pretty, ugly.
She’s pretty ugly, she’s pretty ugly;
She’s pretty ugly,
Yeah she’s s---o,
Very, pretty, ugly.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 9:47 AM UTC
Elven Heritage
Purity Healing Sphere Carriged In
Sacred Mystical Kin Hint Of A Faerie Mist
Purified Language In
Telepathy With All Interdimesnonal Beings
Love Hugging The Trees
Its Where We Peace
Its Where We Eat
Dance & Sing
Healing Passion Fullfiling Gatherings
Fairys Swing
One Touch From Us Is A Rush
Enough To Make An Angel Blush
All Disease Crushed Into Dust
Whipped Up Into Thus
Purified Trust
Declair Clean Air Is A Must
Our Eyes Are Idolized
Pure Manners Inside
Anything Less Than Love It Flys
Where Its Free From Disguise
Vibrations Rise Then Dies
I Am Elven Folk
My Dearest Heart
Wheeps When You Leave
Until Your Return
I'll Be Gentle When Bleeding Screams
We Are Here To Heal Call Up
Elders Silver Will
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC
While the children play in the sun, it'll be all the children but one,
the shadow girl will hide away secretly decorating a place to stay.
Once so perfect, once so pure, a girl unlike others idolized by all,
Now so flawed, now so dark, a girl who hates to see the flying lights.
Everything earned, everything wanted, served in silver before her,
she wanted more, dying of hungry yet plain the dishes become.
Eyes so sweet, eyes so tender, chocolate smothered care,
lids with wrinkles, stares so bitter, a turn for a worse in smoke tears.
Love so true, written in stone, italic figures and wonderful notes,
lies so deep, they cut in more, artificial bodies and agony with all.
Drawings so neat, effects so clear, strong plus confident all in one,
scribbles on paper, ripped and torn praying 'a few pictures more'.
The reflection, the reflection its coming to me, whispering so sweet,
tenderly, it screams down my ears and looks me in the eyes, shouting "No, this can't be your life."
Broken roads, dusty concrete, nobody to be seen,
in this world of isolation, the only person I see,
is the girl of shadows and she's looking back at me.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
*In their blind bid
To become westernized,
They lost touch with reality
Created shadows of themselves
Despised their own intrinsic values
Embraced a twisted dress sense
Of fallen pants and revealed underpants
Idolized everything they're not
The good, the bad, the ugly
They birthed dual personalities
Picked up foreign accents
On ****** home-based passports
The American Dream, they call it,
As they wear winter jackets
In scorching African sun
All in the name of fashion
Trading our simple hues
For complex shades unknown
Bleaching skin and hair
Trading natural black for artificial white
Unaware the very gods they adore
Are tanning theirs to look darker
Insecurity drives them mad
Inferiority complex overtakes them
As they ban mother tongues in offsprings
Placing exotic tongues on pedestals
At the expense of our cultural future.
This is not an attempt at poetry
This is wake up call to Africa
Be bold, be proud, be black!
You are BEAUTIFUL!!
You are AFRICAN!!!*
© Raphael Uzor
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
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?
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 7:49 PM UTC
There is a weird
And not so wonderful fetish
Particularly British
Common
Amongst commoners
In the United Kingdom
Although the aristocracy
And royalty
Are seen by all
With eyes to see
To have behaved
Abominally
Tortured and twisted
Enslaved, enchained
***** re-shaped
With bloodstained hands
The entire planet
Sending ordinary
More innocent
English men
To do their ***** work
Their dastardly
Disastrous deeds
As slaves of knaves
Through common British eyes
These horrible people
Are placed high upon
Holy pedestals
Romanticized
Idealized, Idolized
Canonized
Perhaps there's some
Vicarious thrill
Exercising
Enforcing
Power and evil will?
But the hand no pleasure gets
When, through rubbing, wets itself!
Sean Hunt
Windermere January 1st 2016
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 3:19 PM UTC
As a child, I idolized one day getting a license
Now I'm 17 in a red '94 convertible with the top down, loving
How it feels when my metal daisies pull my ears from the force of wind
I like the adrenaline rush I get when I can scream because no one is around
And that I don't have to feel bad for not talking to anybody
I like the way my car shakes when I blast the volume to 35
Or when I push it faster faster faster than it should go
I like the stick on my skin because of the North Carolina humidity
When I reach my arm out of the window, leaning toward a stranger
Summer's almost over, but I just want more time following the sunset home
On the open road
Aug 11, 2022
Aug 11, 2022 at 11:50 AM UTC
She serves, serves as. Her body-is-home-is-nation.
She does not dwell, she is dwelling.
She keeps the lights on. She fluffs the pillows.
With child, eternal. She is so very...blessed.
She is the pilot light and the pile of ash.
Savior, safegaurd, scapegoat.
She is flambéed, micro-waved,
she is pressure cooked in social sweat,
and then told that she looks “radiant.”
Idolized, pasteurized, tranquilized,
she is bottled, sealed and brought
beaming to your doorstep each morning
for a reasonable monthly fee.
Her hearth fuels all creation, destruction,
and consumption followed by decaf coffee
and polite chatter in the living room.
She is so excited to welcome you into her...home.
She is incontinent. Incontinuous.
A swollen, slacken gesture towards a self.
She is wet clay laid again on wheel,
awaiting to welcome the coming
divine, un-declinable gift from god.
A fist to the gut, from beneath.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 4:33 PM UTC
If prayer was just a string of 5 letters
That bound your name together to be scripture on my tongue
I would find a way to speak to you
From the grip of my soul
From the blues in my knees
From the hard of the floor
Put my heart on the floor
And I kneel before you
My faith.
Love is sometimes idolized
But, idle eyes
Will blink past the lightning in its strike
Love, there is no braille on your body, I will not read
Love, there are no cards in your smile, I will not fold
Love, there is no religion, in the way I want to sin with you
But I find my faith in your sunrise, and
I pray that we nightfall.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 10:32 PM UTC
That idolized word of yours - "virginity" - and my nature fail at getting along
Virginity steals my freedom
Why does my desire for ****** activity have to make me impure?
Why must I disengage from an uncontrollable arousal to be considered worthy?
You make the most sacred activity seem so unsacred
As if with every touch I lost my value
Why do you make my nature seem so unholy?
As if with every touch I stained my soul
What am I losing ?
If only gaining physical,emotional, and spiritual insight
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 2:28 AM UTC
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.
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 9:42 AM UTC
Everyone I’ve ever idolized dies tragically.
He said that Blues Run the Game and died still feeling that fire all over his body.
He sings about losing control again even though it’s he who was.
He taught his son about responsibility and fell to the wildebeest.
I used to think the monk who set himself on fire
was insane
but now I think
he was a product of sound rationale.
Ears are falling off in this starry night.
And I see nothing weird
If he told me to keep the object carefully
I would.
Madness is Genius.
And I’d rather be absolutely ridiculous
than nauseatingly normal.
No one tells you that the very best parts of love
are also its very worst.
Love torments the soul
Tragedy becomes a way of life
And suffering, a daily occurrence.
Such is the way of the mad artist.
Who after he paints Starry Night
Cuts off his ear.
I’m starting to think
I’ll live longer
If I stop being an artist.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 2:35 PM UTC
I am a writer who hates whiskey.
I feel that I should love it like a writer's only friend,
Like I should sip it from a glass while I scribe with broken pens,
Like I should clink the ice against the sides and swirl it, deep in thought,
And take it neat and raw, in admiration of its steely course.
It should lubricate the mind and guide the flow of words to page,
And since a nervous age I've yearned to say I love the way it burns and maims,
And maybe on a certain day, I'll glug it without choking, breathless,
But for now it hurts my brain to even think about its... smokey wetness.
I've idolized an archetype, a writer with a harmful life,
Sit alone in bars at night, lament the fact that art is strife,
But recently I'm thinking more, and honestly, this can't be right,
I love the pen and paper, and I love the fact it's hard to write.
It's the way that I've romanticized it, fantasized and glamorized it,
Like I could just forget about a novel, let Jack Daniel's write it,
While I sat and focused on my magnum opus, penning parts of it in prose,
I viewed my present like it's hindsight, through glasses tinted rose.
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 5:38 PM UTC
Clumsily, carelessly spewing out words
That now I would take back, if I could.
I idolized you, losing my value,
Standing by as your ego just grew.
Now I only have myself to blame
As you look down on me
With no intention of equality.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
If only we could run away
To a land where no one hurts.
How quickly I would go to stay
Unnoticed but never alone.
Real life isn't like the movies:
Too bad, I think to myself, the
Starry skies gazing down at me.
Love, the bittersweet enemy of mine,
Idolized and envied by the naive.
Keeping quiet, my heart screams with
Equal feelings of hate and anger.
How easy it is to see the impact
Everlasting, the way they tear down my
Life; yet without that hidden place to hide in, the
Land beneath our feet falls apart.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 5:51 PM UTC
.Honestly,
She deserves better.
She would be so good for you,
But you would hurt her,
As you already have here
By forcing her to say no.
Honestly,
You need someone strong,
Someone to put up with you
And keep you in line,
Because you'll respond in turn
And influence will change you.
Honestly,
You have been the first.
I idolized the others.
But I see your flaws
As I ought to; I could say
All the things you need to hear.
But honestly,
You need more than me:
I would hurt you, I know it.
Though unintended,
I would run with my feelings
And push you away instead.
So honestly,
Think hard beforehand
Don't ask for what you don't want
You're resilient
But I'm a pain in the neck
And I don't want to break you.
Honestly
I won't make a move.
For both fear and for the hope
That we'll just be friends
If not best ones, then good ones:
Just as we are already.
So honestly
I might want to lie
But honest I will remain
As I tell you this:
That I would only choose you
If you fully knew the price.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 1:41 PM UTC
You’re like an ocean for you always look calm.
But I know behind it is a girl on fire in town.
A woman who is being idolized by everyone;
For you got your word voiced out even if it’s troublesome sometime.
Your personality is like your favorite seaweed.
Spicy yet it gives something to cherish.
You’re like your favorite ramen noodles.
Mind with worries feels like doodled.
You are the sweetness to my bitterness.
By just your wiggling eyebrows, it causes happiness.
You are the chili to every made kimchi.
Always looks fine even if it’s orangey.
Your mood somehow blends with your favorite colors;
You have adopted the calmness of the blue sky; the balancing aura of gray;
The peacefulness of white; brown’s friendliness in a simple way.
These interesting sides of yours will always be remembered.
You are the sour taste in a homemade sinigang.
The happiness I felt in every chocolate’s bite.
You are the coldness in my ice cream;
That balances the feeling that is in warm.
Your dramas are amazing just like your Korean films.
Those songs I love to hear whenever you start to hymn.
You’re proving enough that there is this thing called forever.
I would miss your cheerful smiles and long your crazy laughter.
© Quenniebells, 2015
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC