"imperfected" poems
I LOVE MYSELF
With all my flaws
In my Beautifulness,
In my mistakes,
In my weakness,
In my darkness.
I love myself, because I am worth it.
I am a high power person who can move mountains with my love, thoughts and dreams
I am good, kind, funny, full of life and love, contagious with my explosive energy
Some things may be equally essential but nothing is more important than loving oneself
And at this moment the love I have for myself goes above and beyond.
It could reach the end of the universe if I just unwrap it
I love me in my inane, craziest, sanest, beautiful twisted, darkest and funniest way
I love me in a way that no one does
I love me in my fullest woes
I am everything that I can and will be
I am frightfully proud of my flaws and proudly wearing them as no one is perfect
This is the start of a new journey to me
The journey of love and self acceptance
The journey to fully embrace and value my own self
I allow myself to fall in my stupidest and biggest way, just to get back up and catch my breath again
Failure will not stop me but make me stronger
I am fully seeing me and smiling at my imperfected and distorted reflection
Hugging myself so tightly, refusing to let go
The more I am spending time with me,
The more and more my love grows
Is it bad for my health ? I do not think so.
It’s true, I am better, happier, more free, powerful, at peace
The sun is shining on me
I don’t need no help to be beautiful, ‘cause I’ve got me
I’ve got that uncontainable light from within me
I am smoldering a treasure, sharing laughter, joy and sadness with myself
I have learnt the phases of myself
So distant from that little insecure girl I used to know
As I allow her opinions to matter
I have accepted her difference
Her different kind of beauty, I have learned to love
This feeling of wholeness, self acceptance, comfort and love, is liberating
I wrap myself around my contorted and beautiful else to form a ME
As I am, Raw and Real
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 6:34 AM UTC
Sadly
you found me
STD
yes you infected
imperfected
and now you wont leave
you would think i had ***
but its just an STD
but you wont let me be
not a bacteria
inertia
or viral
spiral
just a simple disease
that doesnt invovle a sneeze
im living yes i still can breath
but i still have a STD...
See she gave it to me...
I can spread this thing
and even if i would
i dont thing that I should..
see it would just complacate things
No we wouldn't die tonight
but one day we just might
not from the sores and the strains
but from the aches and the pains
of being lonely again...
See its a lot more complicated
then what you are making it
you think Im just disgusting cuz of what I caught
but I pretty sure its something u thought.
lot worst then yeast cuz that will leave
more like a Herpies or ***
even tho that isn't what I've received
And I dont have the funds to splurge
so I dont know if I can scure the cure
or if she even had the bug
enough that it could be cured by her love
I caught somethin that aint easily healing......
Espcially if you dont have the disease...
I caught.....Feelings
A sexually transmited disease
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
It's not about the ghosts or the demons
The heartbreaks and rejections
It's about the happiness and contentment
Not minding what you've imperfected
What you're scared of doesn't matter
As long as you know that you'll be better
Head up, stay strong
and never give it up all
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 7:45 AM UTC
I hover over your words
not for perfections.
*don't paint me an azure sky
cotton clouds
a field of sunflower
gold crests of afternoon waves
dark labyrinths
inner demons
or even angel faeries*
for my life of half drawn images
half digested joys
faintly lit phantoms
rough edge
rugged walkway
write me out
a flawed poem
imperfected to the hilt
no structure
no style
wild jots of your thoughts
just like you and me
flawed but heavenly!
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
summer incisions on a crystalline day
(it sorrows me to end a poem this way)
every leaf, every tree,
edged silhouetted sharp
against the pale blue cadet uniform color of a
portrait background framing sky,
this museum piece painting,
unsigned, unguarded, uninsured,
yet, surely the worlds most valuable
the sun's early morn golden glint reflection,
somehow pools in the palm of the each chlorophyll green flat goblet,
this necklace of carat gold cavatine melodies
gets me happy drunk on an aurora of
the green n' blue seasonal summer's glories,
upon the skin-stamped a caramel hallmark,
what we wait for all year long,
all the earth's colors crystalline pure,
my senses say it's as it was
on the first day of creation
this is not the first day of summer 2014,
yet, it should be so remarked,
for summer visions so perfect crystalline
are summer incisions,
allowing entry of interferon hopes of we irregular,
imperfected assorted human shapes,
the marvel of a free-for-all serenity,
nature's sweet permanent kindness to
wayfaring temporal humans
corporeal that I am, my being flooded
by all of this and a grateful satisfaction,
but my mind knows that as real as all this,
is as well, the not well, the ashen pallor inside,
the burnt tongue words that circulate
in my bloodstream, the status of my
reality, where my job, survival, is a
Monday day to one day thing, and where the luxury of being
summer incised
is a sometime thing
*and it sorrows me to end this poem this way
but I come from another place this day*
and the computer asks
save this poem?
and I answer,
no, save me, save my family,
even if it must rain every day for the rest of my
sunsetting life
*and it sorrows me to end this poem this way
but I come from another place this day*
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 7:38 AM UTC
**"Love...
It comes,—the beautiful, the free,
The crown of all humanity,—
In silence and alone
To seek the elected one."** Wadsworth Longfellow
<>
forgive me, Henry,
for tampering with thy perfect,
these words provoke
a restless, hard earned, smouldering and enflaming,
imperfected, unasked, unsought,
yearning
to explain, share, complete, abbreviate, lengthen and explicate,
my version, my coloration,
my coronation,
from the end of ceaseless, repetitive waves of wanting
completion
forty years in the desert,
four hundred year in ******* in Egyptian exile,
boul
der chained, uphill climber,
amazes me even now, how
did I desire to breathe,
arose to contemplate, perplexed,
why was I placed on this star,
skin branded dissatisfied, a human being,
unratified, unconstituted
just another love song, just another poem,
certainly no better, and surely worse,
than the thousands of thousands that preceded,
and the thousand more that will come by
nightfall
surrender - I cannot surpass
what lies below
acknowledge respectfully,
the luckless, the loveless
despair can dissipate, as hard to believe,
as hard as the unendurable, I counsel not
hard patience,
instead,
awake forever impatient, irresolutely
hardy and ravenous,
for what will come your way,
when I cannot say,
but this I know,
you are an elected, selected one, and
**It comes,—the beautiful, the free,
The crown of all humanity,—
In silence and alone
To seek the elected one**
8:21am Aug. 27, 2016
<>
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 8:24 AM UTC
I could say so much
trapped in between the
silences
& all we ever brought to our
cluttered tables
you mislead me
& I falter on the fine print
I make up in my
love-lusted imperfected
daydreams
never citing my sources
'cause God knows there aren't any
just intuition, baby
& your carefully crafted hand
on my hip
you ever seen her dance?
she don't dance too well
but hell, she's got a lot of heart
& you can't ignore a woman
like that
even if she is just a girl
she loves to dream
once more living life as a
rebellious teen
though her grip was forever
clenched upon the fear
of consequence
just wait
one day she'll light up
& not give a ****
who's watching
if you're lucky
it might be
you
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 12:40 AM UTC
Fake smiles but broken inside
Times are tough nothing to hide
Goes with the flow till no return
Do damage skip town
No time to cope or deal with consequences
Imagination of madness
Burns a path with no survivors
The wreck makes others aware
Eyes staring no one caring
Protect those who bring the danger
Respect those who have none
The dream buried alive within
Broken spirit shines when fixed
Protect select from self destruction
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 5:39 PM UTC
has anyone ever told you that youre only beautiful at night?
when the air darkens is when you have the denoting equivalence of a perfected face.
perfected only by MY midnight thoughts of combined imperfections.
slight glimmers of reflected light from the moon through the clouds is only when i will look at you.
your innocence is only of fledgling souls lost amongst crowded school halls and football stands.
but only at night does this transpire....
only at night are you beautiful.
i watch you walk through deteriorated mind paths and twisted memories.
all in hopes to make moments.
i seep through the darkness at a chance to caress your face,
your broken face of that which i forgot.
i forgot the reason why you are only beautiful at night
for beauty of yours is always hidden from open hours and translucent rays.
a scarred beauty that only a broken soul could love.
an imperfected soul.
and comes alas of why we are only beautiful at night.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC
Here we walk the desert alone,
Under the sun scorched and black
Ashes rain down upon the heads of children,
Lying awake in battery city.
Waiting for Destroya to come and save us,
from Better Living Industries,
Who manufacture our organs in the clean white coated skyscrapers.
The killjoys hiding in the desert,
In the nest as we protect the girl,
With our masks as ***** as our souls,
And ray guns that blast the Draculoids
And **** the perfect minding.
Turn the music up so loud,
Disturb the silent city.
Don't watch the channels provided by poise
Does it make you feel the pills you ate?
Think of all the ones they stole
the imperfected ones.
You cant because they stole the thoughts from you.
Vaseline drenched lips that drool with frozen smiles,
With boiling blood in your throat.
Dr. D's on the radio again tonight
Tune in and listen close
Because we got no room for heroes.
And got no room for ghosts.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 8:40 AM UTC
The sun would leave when darkness came
But the moon will never do the sun's doings
A perfect friend during the lonely nights
Who wouldn't leave us when the day comes
Witness to your silent tears and grief
Seemingly aware of the fear and anxiety
Perfectly flawed
Perfectly imperfected
An entity unworthy of humans
Glowing over the pitch black darkness
The moon knows what it feels like to be human - imperfect and flawed.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 9:03 PM UTC
I've finally reached the gates
There it is face to face
Inside, my stomach aches
Its probably anxious
From many years
Of being patient
Fought alliance my fears
Each one I attended
Never been pretended
So I stayed neglected
But I reflected
To make things imperfected
And stopped making perfections
Got a mind of a mechanic
My problems I wrenched it
Now feeling delighted
With a little rain
To help maintain
Keeping my faith
Reached into my pocket
Found a skeleton key
Put it right through a socket
Gates opening with positivity
I can feel my negativity
Beginning to decrease gradually
It's good to come up from hell
Breaking all the bad spells
And everything is now turning to be
Heavenly.....bliss.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 9:09 PM UTC
The light my eyes receive
Reflecting of your face
That aids me to perceive
Each imperfected grace
Has had to wend and weave,
Though at tremendous pace,
Through airs that interleave
Our intervening space
And so I sometimes grieve
That I can but retrace
The beauty I believe
No time would dare efface.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 5:50 PM UTC
The song meant nothing to me, but spilled brim-full of faint meaning to more attentive ears than my own.
The song meant nothing. While I stood bemused with my less than perfect pitch and my imperfected sense of rhythm, both played out imperfectly through my stubby finger tips.
The song meant nothing. I was only too aware of the thesaurus of love, but the language eluded me, all the more at the opening bars when it would have been most useful.
The song meant nothing and I resorted to the clumsy sign language of childlike affections and smoke signals signing hesitant expressions of late-conceived emotions.
The song meant nothing, its meaning remaining an octave beyond my range, stave after stave.
The song meant nothing, but still I sang.
Jul 19, 2019
Jul 19, 2019 at 3:07 PM UTC