"inexcusable" poems
nobody loses all the time
i had an uncle named
Sol who was a born failure and
nearly everybody said he should have gone
into vaudeville perhaps because my Uncle Sol could
sing McCann He Was A Diver on Xmas Eve like Hell Itself which
may or may not account for the fact that my Uncle
Sol indulged in that possibly most inexcusable
of all to use a highfalootin phrase
luxuries that is or to
wit farming and be
it needlessly
added
my Uncle Sol’s farm
failed because the chickens
ate the vegetables so
my Uncle Sol had a
chicken farm till the
skunks ate the chickens when
my Uncle Sol
had a skunk farm but
the skunks caught cold and
died and so
my Uncle Sol imitated the
skunks in a subtle manner
or by drowning himself in the watertank
but somebody who’d given my Uncle Sol a Victor
Victrola and records while he lived presented to
him upon the auspicious occasion of his decease a
scruptious not to mention splendiferous funeral with
tall boys in black gloves and flowers and everything and
i remember we all cried like the Missouri
when my Uncle Sol’s coffin lurched because
somebody pressed a button
(and down went
my Uncle
Sol
and started a worm farm)
132k
There Is But One Law (The Dancer's Coda)
There is but one set of laws,
One that need be obeyed,
One that brooks no heresy,
One that gives no absolution.
One that needs no priests, no canons,
One that that refuses disobedience.
We all bend knee at altar invisible,
Though feasance never requested.
The Laws of Physics.
A body at rest, a body in motion.
Laws immutable, unconditional,
Equations, proofs, demonstrable,
Inequalities inexcusable, banished.
Dancer says:
I am heretic, even these laws I refuse.
My body denies limitations,
My mind believes I will make do
What it could not, but yesterday.
Defiance from wire to wire is the
Fuel in my veins, fear but a detail,
Leaping from from ten meters more,
My Declaration of Independence.
My body plastic, my mind ethereal,
Some mock, call it trickery,
Some hail, call me hero.
There are forces greater than mine,
Forces irrevocable, mathematically superior.
Each day my force grows as well,
Visions imagined supersede the
Tedium of definitions, of boundary lines.
Bend the law, conquer the null, fill the void.
Each day sketch, devise, organize a
New rebellion, follow only one command,
Honor but a single battle cry.
Leap, then fall!
That dancer, your only law,
That heretic, thine only coda.
Action is freedom.
For you are dancer,
Whisper as you leap:
The Fifth Freedom I possess,
The Freedom to Fall.
May 17th, 2013
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 4:12 PM UTC
I see that
you're messing
with
her thermostat again.
Comatose is a wonderful degree.
Isn't it?
Someday,
He will
abandon the circular life,
to live
the line life.
For
"life" has no
need to explain its course.
Life simply is.
Life simply happens.
&
Life simply exists.
Even when you're "dead".
Questions lurk below every theory.
But skeptics,
can be
two-faced
coin-cunts.
Sometimes.
So ask away & Find out for yourself.
Always remember:
That the Dumps
have
never
been
adequate to inhabit.
Fight or Flight.
Flight,
is my only option.
High up.
High on.
Out o' here.
In times of desperation,
it is understandable,
to be influenced by instinct.
However,
it is inexcusable
to forever live
in desperation.
You deserve better.
Cause you're the best. <3
Apr 17, 2012
Apr 17, 2012 at 2:16 PM UTC
The Holy Family?
In a box
with the angels upstairs
Shepherds?
In search of their sheep
lost in newspaper
Somehow I sit on a bag...
of glass Christmas *****
“Must get my vacuum!”
That dead animal, coated by dust
and buried in laundry--
has tangled itself in its own cord
and tumbled headlong to the basement
Crooked photos of daughters
watch me...
smiling (Can it be?)
from a hundred miles and years away?
Waiting for me to make
that miracle again--
What moms do at Christmas
Phone rings
“Jing-a-ling, are ya listening?”
It's the bill collector's recorded
“This is inexcusable!” message
Charities are legion
I say, “There is a line”
Later--
seen only by the peaceful stars...
the donkey of Bethlehem
stumbles in-- laden with groceries
dumping them on the bed/couch
...and back outside for the next load
...and back to the bed again
Why bother making it?
Not as if the cat cares
He likes his blankets niched and lumpy
Not as if some modern home magazine's
planning a photo-shoot!
The mailbox, meanwhile
is preggers with glossy catalogues
...and bills...and
“Wouldn't your whole family enjoy a sunroom?”
Dropping the bags
searching for a light
turning up the heat--
gas bill
sewer bill
“Tis the season for a new Toyota!”
I try to understand the point
of a Christmas card with printed signature
Can I stuff myself in with the recycling?
Then, back outside for the single-woman drama
“Hauling in the Tree”
Storm door catches the hem of my coat
Pine needles, leaves, snow and mud
mark the end of the trail
On my belly twisting screws
“Son-of-a-bitchin tree stand!”
Knocking my daughter's picture off the wall
“Serves 'er right fer laughin!”
**** thing's crooked and dripping
with melted snow
It's 8:30 PM
The cat is hungry and crying
I hit the bottom-- and the button
for the background of a human voice
Three naked chickens are waiting on the counter
At some point, I will take off my coat...
Right now--
I drink a beer while standing
To get a better view....
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 4:25 PM UTC
How do I go on?
You claimed to be my White Knight
Your words not mine
I felt a disconnect and knew you would break my heart
I tried to break it off
These words I said
I love you deeply
You my soul mate
The response was the same
Your words
You are my soul mate
We were so happy
Happily ever after type
You begged me not to leave
Called me your lifeline
I would have given up everything
Just to be in your arms
A picture of you
Shared only with me
So I thought
You said only me
Only me
We were a secret
You didn't want others jealous
But everyone knew
You get to the airport
Tell me it's just me, only me
My friend talked of you
I confided in her of Us
A letter arrives
You cut me to pieces for telling her
Telling her we were Us
You were my White Knight
I was your lifeline
Pulling you from the brink
Soul mates
Stars aligned
I will never know
You would never tell
The picture partly a clue
You sent it to her too
Dumped me for saying you loved me to her
She was our friend
Only a friend you said
Then why
why all this pain
I saved you
You almost killed me
I saved it all you know
Every word, phrase, poem
The pain unbearable
You had to know
I would try to end my life
Your lifeline would be dead
Nothing but silence from you
One day out of the blue you show again
Say you still love me
Still desire me
What were you thinking
After all that time
Just needed your lifeline again
Then what
Disappear after
What you did White Knight
Was inexcusable, cruel, vindictive
You swore you would be back
I would see you again
You might as well have been the knife
Sliding across my skin
This time you succeeded
Severing all ties
Bet you didn't think it would go this far
No longer your soul mate
Your lifeline gone
All because our friend's feelings were hurt
You could have done better
Should have done more
Now I am gone forever
They buried me today
Our friends were there
But not you
Not even then would you show
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
She Let A Moth Drown In the Lake
She let a moth drown in the lake,
Waves taking stackars* little thing
Further than her oar could reach.
Standing on beach, cupped eye,
Squinting, trying…
Moth was gone.
Death had won.
Just so you know I do no lie,
That ‘she’ was I.
I am the wimp who hesitated.
Fear of depth, of cold, of wet.
Excuses inexcusable.
Death of moth, still flapping moth
Is just as undeserving as our own demise.
Pedestrian, prosaic, commonplace,
Disgusting,
Yet compulsively discussable.
All living things delight in life-ness.
While they move and throb the slightest,
They delight.
Who takes a life by standing by
Will also die.
It is essential, is it not, to cry,
Identify with kin?
Kin hereby meaning ‘life within’.
Left with remorse and shame
She self-condemns,
She takes the blame.
She hopes some force
That knows the individuality of moth
Shows sympathy in rebirth
In some future form that has a breath.
So be it, Om, Amen to Earth!
She Let A Moth Drown In the Lake 6.14.2020 Birth,Death & In Between II;Nature Of & In Reality; Circling Round Nature II;Pure Nakedness;Circling Round Experience; Arlene Nover, Corwin
*stackars; Swedish; ‘poor thing’
Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 6:17 AM UTC
Please excuse my drivel of words as I ascertain my inexcusable lustless love life.
However,
humor me for a second…
But I’m looking for Miss Alabama Worley.
Mississippi Isabel,
**** it, Lady Macbeth would do.
That ***** knows crazy.
Where is the incomprehensible insufferable beast?
That will take my heart in one foul swipe and refuse
Me rest till I’ve given her lust the spearing of a hungry tribesman.
I want the lock and chain around my ***** because my naked vulnerability
Is hers for the taking.
Beat me,
Oh monstrosity of the bedroom
Let the blood drip as I lick your foot.
Indulge me with the endless sweat and tears of the night.
And **** me like a rock star
Till I taste the rubber.
Where is the whirlwind passion?
Love at first sight.
And not the giddy looks of something Michael Cera starred in.
I am talking tattoos on the first date,
Reckless marriage doomed by the 50 pound ring on her finger.
Put me in a ****** east end flat,
Let me starve because ******* is food for the brain,
And her ***** tastes delectable when I’m high.
**** my brother in our bed,
I never liked him anyway.
A best friend is a man who’s shared the same hole.
And trust me, we’re closer than ever.
You’ll be all I’ve got.
I’ll sleep on the couch and crawl back to you,
Because I'm wrong,
I am always wrong.
Laugh at the scars on my wrists
Pity isn’t there for the taking.
Leave me shaking in the corners of my mind,
Let lust grow like anger and revenge
Let anger and revenge grow
When I go soft on you,
Put those cigarettes out on my chest,
And choke me; asphyxiate me from the inside out.
I want to burn in the hellish rapture
Betwixt your thighs.
******* fire in half an hour,
God knows where you got it from.
But those who care share, right?
But then,
Perhaps I’ll just end up like my parents,
Settle down with a nice girl.
A nice normal girl,
Missionary position isn’t that bad I ‘spose.
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 7:18 PM UTC
if you saw him on the street
you wouldn't glance twice
because he does not look extraordinary
and he does not make your heart
skip a beat
but
when you listen to the wonderful, tinkling sound
of his laughter
and his inexcusable, almost inappropriately funny remarks
and when you happen to be lucky enough
to catch him smiling when no one is watching; he makes
your head spin
he is not the most beautiful to the rest of the world
and his eyes do not compare to the brightest of stars, his
hair is not an ocean-type mess and his freckles are not like grains of sand
instead his eyes are like like warm hot chocolate when
you are barely awake and are trying to get through the day, his hair is the
disaster that you can't help but be captivated by and his freckles are like carefully placed light orange dots that seem to connect in a way
I do not see him on the street anymore--
and that is the reason that I no longer
drink hot chocolate and why I hate the color orange
because god, he was not the most beautiful boy in the world
and he wouldn't make a stranger's heart beat twice
but he made mine
and in the end,
that was all that really mattered
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
The Randomness of things
is inexcusable
How randomly we meet
and part our ways
We fall apart
estranged from what we loved
For no reason at all
and no governing rules
Fresh meat becomes
Leftovers of tomorrow
Fresh love is turned
into a surge of pain
The randomness of days
is inexcusable
How randomly the night
steals us away
And never to return
from its mysterious depth
our eyes
get adjusted to the dark
Nov 23, 2009
Nov 23, 2009 at 9:22 AM UTC
He called to straighten her out,
To announce his disappointment.
In no uncertain terms, he rammed it home,
Her failure to notify him was inexcusable.
He blasted her, recounted his disappointment,
“You were supposed to visit, you said you’d stop by.”
He shrieked, “Our friendship is a ruse, a joke to you,
You fooled me, I thought you cared.”
Overwhelmed, wordless, she, lost in his pain,
Was defenseless, knew no proof would suffice,
Understood the meaning, guilty as charged.
She listened silently, finally, felt a shift,
His rage discharged, breathless, indignant,
He awaited her pathetic excuse.
With a shallow breath she illuminated him.
A single, empty, cabin,
On a distant island,
Barren, cold, alone,
Marooned.
***** you!” down he slammed the phone.
Nov 26, 2011
Nov 26, 2011 at 9:14 AM UTC
Nobody Loses All The Time
nobody loses all the time
i had an uncle named
Sol who was a born failure and
nearly everybody said he should have gone
into vaudeville perhaps because my Uncle Sol could
sing McCann He Was A Diver on Xmas Eve like Hell Itself which
may or may not account for the fact that my Uncle
Sol indulged in that possibly most inexcusable
of all to use a highfalootin phrase
luxuries that is or to
wit farming and be
it needlessly
added
my Uncle Sol’s farm
failed because the chickens
ate the vegetables so
my Uncle Sol had a
chicken farm till the
skunks ate the chickens when
my Uncle Sol
had a skunk farm but
the skunks caught cold and
died and so
my Uncle Sol imitated the
skunks in a subtle manner
or by drowning himself in the watertank
but somebody who’d given my Uncle Sol a Victor
Victrola and records while he lived presented to
him upon the auspicious occasion of his decease a
scruptious not to mention splendiferous funeral with
tall boys in black gloves and flowers and everything and
i remember we all cried like the Missouri
when my Uncle Sol’s coffin lurched because
somebody pressed a button
(and down went
my Uncle
Sol
and started a worm farm)
—by ee cummings
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
Before I sleep or when everyone around me is asleep,
I go to an empty street. I wear a coat to protect myself from the cold.
It's a nice cold.
The type that kisses your cheek makes you shiver a little and fills you with giddy.
In the middle of this street is a lamp post; I like to weave words and art from this lamp post.
But I need to go back to slumber
But I need to go back and play with numbers
And when I don't have these things to worry about
The light goes out
I wait for it to turn back on
Most of the time, it doesn't
I play with the wires
Or maybe perhaps I should go looking for other lampposts and fires
I try to call friends
But it all leads to dead ends
The light of the lamppost will not come back
So I try to make in the dark
And it is excruciatingly hard
All that comes out is a horrible chord
Outside the street, everyone tells me the song is beautiful
But I what I still hear is bad and inexcusable
I'd wish that what happens on that street
Stays on that street
Because the darkness of that lamppost seems to follow me wherever I walk
So, I decided to pause and stop on the sidewalk
Maybe the solution to this darkness is simply changing a wire
Or moving on to find another flare of light
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 10:31 AM UTC
"Clouds all streaming away like ghost fish under the ice."
Has it been some inexcusable torture that you've severely experienced?
Fragments of lost emotion, particles of pain, an inclination towards cold air?
The windowpane sings today, it summons, and rejoices at my expression.
In a colorless world, a green tint is desirable.
The same muddy steps; figures crouched under growing obscurity.
Pressed in our position, grimy and soiled on a lost shelf, mangled by the draft.
Has it all been captured and restored, read and remembered?
The pressure tears limbs apart, their spines look disfigured.
Eventual dissipation of weight, and how unburdening light illuminates cement streets.
Springs sunrise and the pages turn,
Creating their own wind.
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 2:52 AM UTC
On this very day JESUS rose from the dead
because the holiest path He tread
He shone brighter than the rising sun
as He was/is Holy Father’s dearest sun
In fact, He and Father are the only one
The very thought of his crucifixion was an inexcusable sin
He dedicated his heart and soul to His Divine Father
The earthly pains He didn’t even slightly bother
Only He could pray for his treacherous traitors
Thus His name was written in Golden letters
HE became a yardstick for time
Although his mundane life was cut off at his prime
Let us all celebrate the historic Easter
like a renowned Christian pastor
All of us have a purification bath
And cover sinful body with Jesus’ divine White cloth
Apr 23, 2011
Apr 23, 2011 at 11:20 PM UTC
The Holy Family?
In a box
with the angels upstairs
Shepherds?
In search of their sheep
lost in newspaper
Somehow I sit on a bag...
of glass Christmas *****
“Must get my vacuum!”
That dead animal, coated by dust
and buried in laundry--
has tangled itself in its own cord
and tumbled headlong to the basement
Crooked photos of daughters
watch me...
smiling (Can it be?)
from a hundred miles and years away?
Waiting for me to make
that miracle again--
What moms do at Christmas
Phone rings
“Jing-a-ling, are ya listening?”
It's the bill collector's recorded
“This is inexcusable!” message
Charities are legion
I say, “There is a line”
Later--
seen only by the peaceful stars...
the donkey of Bethlehem
stumbles in-- laden with groceries
dumping them on the bed/couch
...and back outside for the next load
...and back to the bed again
Why bother making it?
Not as if the cat cares
He likes his blankets niched and lumpy
Not as if some modern home magazine's
planning a photo-shoot!
The mailbox, meanwhile
is preggers with glossy catalogues
...and bills...and
“Wouldn't your whole family enjoy a sunroom?”
Dropping the bags
searching for a light
turning up the heat--
gas bill
sewer bill
“Tis the season for a new Toyota!”
I try to understand the point
of a Christmas card with printed signature
Can I stuff myself in with the recycling?
Then, back outside for the single-woman drama
“Hauling in the Tree”
Storm door catches the hem of my coat
Pine needles, leaves, snow and mud
mark the end of the trail
On my belly twisting screws
“Son-of-a-bitchin tree stand!”
Knocking my daughter's picture off the wall
“Serves 'er right fer laughin!”
**** thing's crooked and dripping
with melted snow
It's 8:30 PM
The cat is hungry and crying
I hit the bottom-- and the button
for the background of a human voice
Three naked chickens are waiting on the counter
At some point, I will take off my coat...
Right now--
I drink a beer while standing
To get a better view....
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 12:25 PM UTC
There is a great glow on Jesus’ face
He was born to rescue the entire human race
Blessed are the people who believe in Christ
He is undoubtedly the divine priest
Him we should continuously pray
And keep the Satan at bay
If we don’t love our fellow human
We will never reach heaven
We should do our duty
The holy Bible exhorts us to take pity
Jerusalem is the Jesus’ birth city
Mother Mary has great piety
Jesus blossomed in the west
His teachings are the best
Our life on earth is a myth
Man forgets this eternal truth
Man incessantly hankers after riches
Doesn’t hesitate to delve deep into ditches
He tells spurious lies
And falls an easy prey to vice
He forgets the purpose of his life
And lives in perpetual strife
Jealousy and hatred are real hell
Only good things we should tell
We should never spread horror or terror
It is an inexcusable error
We should not fight for religion
Man should be peaceful in every region
God is indisputably one
Fighting for Him is real sin
We should be ready for the Doomsday
Christianity shows us the right way
The Bible leads us to the holy path
I think we will have the purification bath
We should get ready for the Sabbath
Jesus will give us his holy cloth
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 6:04 AM UTC
I'm not good at anything
I can't stay committed
If I'm not amazing at it I don't see the point
I'm a quitter and I admit it
I'm not good at expressing myself
I'm too short to really do anything athletic
I'm not good in front of an audience
And my creativity is kind of pathetic
My poems are... whatever
And my social skills kind of ****
I'm really just a push over
And I can't help someone if I really don't give a ****
My attention span is inexcusable
And my memory is nonexistent
I'm too shy to confront my fears
And I'm to insecure to be persistent
I'm not good at anything
I'm not noticed at all
I was once looked up to and praised
But now a shattered porcelain doll
Thrown away and forgotten
Jun 24, 2012
Jun 24, 2012 at 2:13 AM UTC
You're searching for even the slightest validation for your inexcusable actions, transient in both values and the physical realm, collecting conquests and usurpees like how one might collect trophies from animals they hunt, faces frozen in a false expression with unseeing glassy eyes as they are forever immortalised in your sick collection to be made a mockery of long after the passage of time takes it's toll on both the images and the subjects.
A calculated maliciousness disguised as an indecisive personality, you are a bottom-feeder grafting onto the bellies of whomever are blissfully unaware or trusting enough to swim by you; but your own is yellow as a summer's day is long; not from just cowardliness, no, but from **** (sans the vinegar), and I wish I could compose this prose into something a little less hateful and a little more tasteful, but I won't spare you another second of my time, I'll erase you from my mind.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 7:26 AM UTC
It is a choice we make
with every moment that passes
Bring the torches and axes
Its time to face the facts. And the fact is
Realistically we can't have what we want and what we need
Simultaneously
Its unnecessary
This excessive greed
Why? What intentions do we have that makes us think
That the mistakes we make won't cause us grief?
He said, "One moment of patience escapes 100 days of sorrow"
But why when tomorrow
Do I forget to borrow
That truth and bury it in my burrow?
Why am I in a constant state of letting go?
Its unbelievable and inexcusable
The pain I caused these many souls
Truth is its probably because the pain I feel
Feels like the worst of all.
They say misery loves company
And I've been keeping company
With the one who brought the grievance to me.
Time to shed the dead skin
It is time to let the new lights reign in
Cutting off these dead ends
No more pretendin'.
I was born as a leader it resides in my blood
Time to win this war in my core, to elate me up above.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 9:21 PM UTC
It's not fair, it isn't fair
But with such a heavy glance of despair
You break me you mold me
I can't help but hold an overwhelming love for thee.
My poetry isn't bland, simple, or plain.
It's beautiful, a mess, and all sounds the same.
I use the same pattern, beat, and rhymes,
Eventually it will be used one too many times.
I am fighting the urge to love you so pure
God help me I have a poison and you are the cure.
Ignore me, push away, leave me to a thought.
It makes me miss you so much that I rot.
I'm a tree in the wind, I push but do not break
Will loving you turn out to just be a mistake?
Sometimes it's perfect and you're my closest best friend,
Other times it's like it was all just pretend.
It's not fair for me to desire your full attention,
And the sorrow in my soul is beyond comprehension.
I will never forgive myself, and you shouldn't either
I understand you need a break, your heart needs a breather.
I feel so worn thin, so little butter over too much bread
These thoughts and emotions must get out of my head.
What do you want can't you make yourself clear
But please don't tell me it's what I fear.
It's a sick sort of enjoyment, I get from this life,
It's hard to accept you seeing anyone else as a wife.
But that's what it's come to and that's my fault too
I just hope she makes you happy and her love is true.
You told me have patience to see if it's in my favor
I know I've had inexcusable behavior.
You probably didn't see that it was about you and I,
Waiting to see what you choose makes me want to die.
The heaviest burden I ever have bore,
I'm so sorry for that time, your heart, I tore.
It makes me feel ill to think about my choice,
But you don't understand, he stole my voice.
I won't talk about him because he isn't what I want,
Will my choice forever be over me, a ghost that will haunt?
I'm so sorry my dear, I'm so sorry my precious love,
You always treated me like a gift from above.
And sometimes I think about how bad is the pain,
When the person you love does not love the same.
Then I recall yet again what I did to your heart,
I wonder if it would be best, if I just chose to depart.
I get so beyond torn when I try to decide
Because no matter what, I won't leave your side.
Sometimes it just hurts too much, I have to write it out,
It comes it waves and I'm sorry for my doubt.
I'm sorry for the way my emotions turn and twist,
I never want you to have to deal with this.
I'm such a mess and I want to tell you all that I feel,
But I fear if I do, you will leave, and my nightmare will be real.
Oh my oh goodness me this has turned into a mess,
I can't form my words even when I try my best.
I'm sorry if this isn't clear, doesn't help, or bring peace,
I have no one to talk to, it just sits and festers, this is my release.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 6:23 AM UTC
Christmas reminds me of the Historic cross
And the irrepairable loss and the inhuman laws
Jesus has wanted to serve his people
And has tried to protect them like his own pupil
Man is an evil by his very nature
He can’t understand Jesus’ ethical stature
And is ignorant of his benevolent feature
Undoubtedly the meanest creature
He has tried to crucify God
It is an inexcusable fraud
Can any human **** the divine Lord?
I believe Jesus is our eternal bard
for human good He has shed his holy blood
Incessant tears come to my eyes like unstoppable flood
Jesus has prayed even for his ghastly traitors
His sanctifying name is written in golden letters
Jesus has wanted all of us to love
And has flown the spiritual dove
He is an embodiment of Supreme sacrifice
May his divine soul purify all human Vice!
Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 8:44 PM UTC
Trying to show empathy
After stabbing someone in the back
Is like telling a man with no legs to walk up and down the road
Inexcusable and impossible for the other person too forget
Dec 16, 2017
Dec 16, 2017 at 6:55 AM UTC
I am incapable
I am insufficient
Unworthy
To walk the path of man
What I have down
Or what I thought I did
Is inexcusable
My abilities over reached me
And now your gone.
I am now left with
The hidden messages in your
Bleeding words
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 6:11 PM UTC
*I think we ruin children by telling them
Crying is bad
When crying is being vulnerable
An expression of pain so natural
So they grow up to be ashamed of emotions
I think we ruin children by telling them
They have to become someone
When being themselves is already being someone
So they grow up wanting to be someone they are not
I think we ruin children by telling them
Disobeying the rules is inexcusable
When sometimes breaking the rules,
Is freeing one’s self from the expectations of others
So they grow up to feel insecure in the face of uncertainty
I think we ruin children by telling them
Monsters are supernatural creatures
When monsters can also take form in humans
Who exploit, manipulate and trample on others
So they grow up unable to confront even their own monsters
For how could something so unimaginable take form in themselves?
I think we ruin children by telling them
Punishment is discipline
Spanking, verbal fear to shut them up good and easy
When there is a thing called gentle discipline
One that requires less pain and more understanding
So they grow up to become aggressors
Believing they are heroes who save others from disorder
I think we ruin children by telling them
School is the best way to getting around life
Drowning in grades, homeworks and activities just to get by
When experience teaches far more important lessons
School can only teach in words
So they grow up to believing the good life is a tried
And tested pattern and there are no other ways to live
I think we ruin children by telling them
To avoid fears instead of confronting them
When the dark, cockroaches, dogs, can be overcome
So they treat fear as an enemy
Instead of being a friend, a lesson
One that teaches them to be braver, to be stronger
I think we ruin children by telling them
What you wear is what you are
Frills and laces for girls, ties and pants for boys
When anyone can wear just what the **** they want
Clothing is a choice in as much as who they want to be
So they grow up confined by what the crowd is wearing
Fearing any diversion would make them odd
I think we ruin children
By making them believe that success
Comes in fancy clothes, cars, a truckload of money
When happiness is the real mark of a well lived life
I think we ruin children
By telling them being alone is a shameful thing
When the key to understanding one’s self
Is through the painful yet productive solitude
That people so likely shame
So they grow up believing their happiness
Is in other people’s hands
I think we ruin children
By telling them outer strength is the real strength
When there are children who
Cannot lift their own chairs
But have the strongest, bravest hearts
Fighting their way into sad days
Like the heroes that they are
I think we ruin children mostly and importantly
By believing
That they are wrong
That they are too young to understand
When all the while
We could have been wrong
Age makes us not wiser
Just older
And so children lose their capacity to see things brightly
And the biggest chunk of the world’s dreamers are then silenced
By adults who never really believed in the magic of the world
As much as the kids do
So how do we ruin children, really?
By telling them being themselves
Is the least they could ever want
By telling children
That being who they are will never be right
*
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 2:56 PM UTC