"insensitive" poems
Goodbyes never hurt me
It's always the memories that follow
To live in such a cruel reality
A world so insensitive and shallow
A goodbye is just a moment
But the memories are stuck on replay
To think we deserve such torment
We remember each and every day
A goodbye will not hurt you
But the memories will shatter your being
Break your heart into pieces
Your life may even lose meaning
Goodbyes do not hurt you
They are only the beginning
A life that was once so simple
Turned into a life so unforgiving
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
He was imperfect
He was young
She loved him
She was crazy
She wasn’t so pretty
He loved her
He had doubts
He had challenges
She loved him
She was naïve
She was carefree
He loved her
He was smart
He was cute
She loved him
She got brains
She had talent
He loved her
He lied
He cheated
She loved him
He became rude
He was difficult
She loved him
He was scared
He was reckless
She cared
He was arrogant
He was insensitive
She was hurt
He ignored her
He hurt her more
She became different
He cheated more
He cheated carelessly
She ignored him
He became scarce
He cut off ties
She survived
He was addicted
He was pitiful
She had empathy
He fell
She brought him up
He got sick
She nursed him to health
She slipped
He didn’t catch her
He got into trouble
She turned her back on him
He wanted her back
She didn’t
It was too late
She felt nothing for him
She was,
A diamond he got
She was,
A diamond he lost
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 1:56 PM UTC
Well before you know anything else about him,
I'm so happy right now, with my eyes filled upto brim,
Well yeah, it's about a special friend of mine,
Call him a friend, a daddy or a birdie, all are fine.
He's a down to Earth person, with no time to even show it!
Yet people call my birdie, insensitive!
I don't know what do they want to say,
And why as negative they want him to be portrayed.
He's not weird, just unique,
He's not being selective,just doing something for himself for the first time,
You can't call him Selfish.
He's not you, He's not me,
He's better support than us, you'll see!
He's an awesome person, with his awesomeness obscure,
That doesn't make him insecure!
He's no good around people you say,
But in reality, He's the same around all..
He's not fake, expressions he doesn't feel like he doesn't know how to make.
He's just too good the way he reacts,
'cause there's just one way he acts,
That's same,
And no adjective I know,
Could complete his name...
I call him a dad as of yet,
So that such an independent person of humanity,
I don't forget.
**Dad, Please stay
Stay my
Dad **
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 8:24 PM UTC
*See the show is over, behind the red curtain you can't see me cutting up my fingers using my blood and tears to pick up what's left of my heart. We're done, been done…we were over before we could start. Some ***** you are....some ***** filthy, manipulative, sneaky, overbearing, cold hearted, insensitive, ***** of a ***** you are. Some ***** you are….some charming, loveable, selfless, funny, intelligent, creative, artistic, handsome, good **** slangin'……perfect man you are. Prince Charming, you used your sword, on the one you for swore, that you'd love me till and beyond the day that I'm dead. Unfortunate mistakings……burn me at the stake, but first it's off with my head. Charming and flirtatious, so easy to fall in love……but it's being so charming and flirtatious that's got me trying on OJ's gloves. I'm the witch and you're the townspeople secretly fascinated but you'll never say. I'm still in love with you, let's just swallow our pride and give each other's the time of day. I'm still your weakness, you believe I'm that gullible and I don't know at all……because I stuck my pin through your Voodoo corpse right in the heart, and then you gave me a call. I heard the sorrow in your voice and I know you sensed my tears, with the so unslick cracks in my voice and sniffles flooding your ears. I'm yours, and you're mine, last time I said it was the last time……but you're the love of my life and even if we're not together that'll last a lifetime.*
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 7:13 PM UTC
Drip yourself into a cup
Fill up your body with antiquity
Let the collagen insist
An allegory of Capricorn
Memories crystallised
Settled in
Forevers harvest
Insensitive
Misconstrued chemical
Collective symmetry's sin
A condition, livid
Fleeting in Human imagery
Ships break
Loop our tongued
Hands, tossed in Dramamine
Whittled in a succession of malleable fashion
Talent spilled spread in supper
Collate our atrophy
And drink from baroness
Flavours tarnished
Super-collider
Blood soaked in Gematria
A garden of totality
High brow comparison
Entitled in your vacuous stigma
Forever burning
In the lesser key of Solomon
28 daemon
Tessellation in trigonometry
Temperance towards an infinite
Champion of mind, complex
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC
Lately I've been a little moody
I get triggered by comments made
on a video or a tweet or the supposed
leader of our nation spouting his views
on ****** assault victims....
The real victims....men and boys that
are being accused of a horrible act
Innocent yet treated like they're guilty.
Please, don't get me wrong.
Being falsely accused is terrible.
Any one guilty of it should be held liable.
But, after all of the victims, women and men alike
coming forward to tell their stories, he speaks on
behalf of the accused.....Am I stupid for being angry?
What really disappoints me are the people that get upset
when women react to such insensitive views.
They tweet or comment and I try to have conversations
with these people and end up screaming into a pillow!
I walk away wondering if it's worth my time to make
my point of view understood.
Will I ever change any ones mind?
It's the black lives matter vs all lives matter struggles
all over again!
The argument of should players stand for the anthem!
Why don't people understand that saying black lives matter
doesn't mean ONLY black lives matter, it's a way of saying
Please remember!!! Black lives matter TOO! Stop the hate!!!
People of color are being discriminated against and we are tired.
So finally a man decides to protest by calmly taking knee during the anthem aaaaannnd......here HE comes to manipulate the meaning of it all and makes it about disrespecting the flag and
our troops.
And don't even get me started on gay rights! To be treated like
second class citizens is ludicrous! How fantastically absurd to
be told by your own government that you cannot marry the
person you love! And because life has to be just a little more
unfair the LGBTQ community are at high risk for ******
assault and hate crimes too!
I realize none of this is new....I guess the Kavanaugh hearing
triggered me and I can't seem to get it off my mind. I heard
Dr. Ford's testimony and watched as so many people, including
the man himself, come with more and more ****** excuses
and a half *** investigation and in the end he sits on the supreme court any way.
I'll do my duty....I'll use my voice and vote, but I live in a red
state and I know it's an up hill battle. One that may be lost.
But I've said my piece. If you've read through it all, thank you.
If you agree with me, keep fighting. If you don't, I respect your
opinion, but I'll never understand it.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 2:14 AM UTC
It is often said that the cup can be viewed as half full or half empty
The fact is we should be able to agree on is
We all have a cup that can be filled
If we All tried to build another person up
Fill there cup
Instead of putting others down
which can drain ones own cup along with the other persons cup
If you meet another person who appears mean or insensitive or rude
perhaps their cup has been drained so much
They don't know how to fill it up again and are badly in need of having their cup refilled
A small compliment a little kindness, a smile could help fill up the cup again
A cup of friendship can go a long way and help another person have a better day
The world is full of hurting people needing to have their cup refilled
Seeing things from someone else's perspective is a good start
Is the glass half empty or half full, you can decide?
Have you raised your glass and tried to share a Cup of friendship
and filled another's cup today?
If not the present is a good time to start
If we all filled up the cup instead of emptying it
We would have a better world
Fill up the cup today
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 12:57 AM UTC
I am a little bird born into this world
Naked.
Chirping lullabies to redwood treetops
and singing hymns to an almighty; getting back nothing.
I gathered up twigs and loose branches to build up
my nest––cropped out upbringing
for house fitting.
Waking up to noises––
of violent winds.
Pressing feathers to cover my ears,
and trusting my feet to hold me down.
Barricaded myself in worn bark,
from the impossibility of the threatening ecosystem.
Praying myself in place, hiding when morning shines and dressing in colours of damp green.
I’m something but I tell myself otherwise:
It’s too frightening to fly so I might as well cut off my wings.
No, that would be insensitive––don’t mind that, I’ll pluck them each time the feathers grow.
See I’m holding onto the something that makes me more than nothing.
Clipped wings seem more ideal than no wings.
For some reason I’m scared to let it all go;
silently hoping one day I’ll keep them, like them, love them and even spread them.
Noticed gathering leaves and flowers one day can add colour to a colourless lifestyle,
yet the wind wipes it clean the next––still pale brown and feels less like home than yesterday.
I may be afraid of everything,
but I know I’m more afraid of dying here alone;
whispering Mozartian melodies to dead butterflies.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 8:42 AM UTC
to more than I can be...
a sad isolated man,
throes of an agonizing,
stretched by her for painful
revengeful gain,
kissed with pointless avarice, divorce.
children deeming
him alienating, his faulty
insensitive sensitivities,
to easy blame
little do they know of the
piercing lowliness, the looniness of
nights he listened to sad-eyed singers,
and his late-of-mid of night scribbled scripts,
where he
off loaded the agonies of a midlife
disaster, not entirely of his-own
sown making,
but still his to bear and bare alone...
some accidents happens for unintentional,
unintended intentional new seasons appear,
stumbled, tumbled, fumbled his way onto
this H~oly P~lace, where someone might listen
to his explanations, expiations, excoriations
of his all too common tragedy, and said:
this broken human, he's got his reasons,
read his overly long treatises, his entreaties,
to those that prowl, rowing, in this corner
of the silence of the internet, where only the
trolls, the cold, the easier to-be-meaner oft thrive,
and found none of that, but an oasis of sheltering,
embracing comforting, those who actually admitted
his writings could be loved, and perhaps the writer
himself, was
deserving
of a second chance, a verbal embrace. a rereading forgiveness,
a pat
on his natback, a sympathetic sensory intaking,
and perhaps-this debt, eternal, that put the
for and the fore in a new baby born, named -
new forever
came into existence
the very same
e
that begins those conjoined words
***e~ternally grateful
"and now I sleep in peace when the day is done"
but the night time
is still the
write time
Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 11:42 AM UTC
The melodious voice, her silent voice.
Is nothing but a harsh reality of your choice.
Shutting her up and putting her down,
Doesn't give you a wise man's crown.
She who out of love performed every act of abnegation,
She is the one, the true sensation.
How could you be so insensitive to not hear?
So much she said through the eyes in tear.
For love and respect today she whines,
Despite your ruthless nature, with her love, you, she binds.
Maybe you don't know,
Even in dark she can glow.
She can extend the unforgiving minute,
Her strength and purity has no limit.
She standing on earth has reached the stars and sky,
Still in misconceptions you are high.
Open your eyes, your heart, your soul!
You're nobody to charge on her life any toll.
Do not underestimate this silent voice,
Her unsaid is heard even in the noise.
When this silent voice will come out of its shell,
Will that be the time when you'll ring a bell?
Today the voice is silent.
Tomorrow, my friend, it might be violent.
One who has brought you on this earth,
Don't dare to consider her as dirt.
Silently she can give you the pain of your life,
She is nobody but your mother, daughter or wife.
Her silent voice is loudest everywhere.
Her absence you won't be able to bear.
So from today, begin to care.
Wise man's crown then you'll wear.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
My mother enters the kitchen, says that her hands
are dripping, begs my father to finish his work
at the sink. I observe, for a moment, the expression
upon her face which seems conflicted between
a desire to laugh and a need
to feel clean.
I interject that clearly her fate is to have
dog placenta on her hands for all eternity.
Her disgust and amusement seem equally to rise.
After she has washed herself, she speaks of
Ponyo's last intermission between long
intervals of birthing to nap three fleeting minutes;
another contraction gave way to a wriggling
new mole who squeaked and groaned with
bizarre endearment, seizing my heart and causing
its mother's head, after jolting awake,
to go limp.
Mom says it's sad-but-sweet. Dear dog
has spent herself six times already in increments
which, as they increase, draw her spirit still closer
to a totally inevitable chasm of fled energy;
as soon as she falls asleep, yet a new indignant mass
of living parts swaddled in loose skin and wet fur
shoves its way outward, forward, world-ward.
Ponyo is not selfish. Immediately after birth seven,
she begins to lick her offspring clean and nudge it
towards her belly, where it may feed itself.
"Only just got a break, and already she's
back to work."
I'm one of five children my mother has carried
and raised--and for a human, five are many!
I'm afraid to give birth even once, despite
that a greater want of mine is to hold
my own child someday. I wonder if that
is motherhood: discomfort and indecision
concerning the worth of the effort in labor,
in birth, in the weak moments thereafter--
stroking one's child's downy, collapsible head
and feeling a need to protect her, to nurture her,
that is more pressing even than the so-
alluring whispers which Sleep may breathe--
and even beyond these moments, when I have said
to my mother that I hate her (because
to me, it was obvious that I did not,
and was too callous, obtuse, and insensitive
to think that she might just believe it)
and then missed church the next day to stay
with her when she felt ill and tired--if this
is motherhood, I wonder. It must be more even
than I could ever have thought like wanting
to laugh and to wring one's hands
(and even just to go to sleep)
all at once.
Apr 14, 2012
Apr 14, 2012 at 11:05 PM UTC
Here Kitty, Kitty,, called aloud the man~relaxing in his Lounge chair~while sipping a Slightly-Sugared Iced tea. Here Kitty, Kitty,,He continued to call~wondering where the curious cat~might have have made off to~THIS TIME.. Perhaps to the New neighbors~where boxes of all shapes and colors~were carefully~Disarrayed in the back yard~Just waiting for the curious... Not getting any response from Kitty~the Man decided to PEER over ~the Neighborhood Alignment Fence~and Sure enough~There was Kitty! Kitty was Springing~Up and Down~Like a YO-YO and Jumping from Box to Box. Curiosity is an Amazing thing~Isn't it? The Man seemed to be caught in a Trance~As he watched Kitty~continue to jump and YO-YO ! What could be in those boxes?~that held such fascination? Was it a Creepy-crawler~a Slimy-Slitherer~a Wise-Wiggler~a Dashing-Dancer~an Awful-Awesome~a Yelping-Yeoman~an Energized-Egrit~an Ugly-Duckling~a Fast Frog~a Gorgeous-Gargantula~a Social Secret~a Horrible-hulk'a Raspy-Rascal~an Insensitive-Iguana~a Jumping-Jackal ? OR , was it simply the color of the Boxes ? Look at that Curios Kitty~Jumping and Jumping and Jumping ! SUDDENLY___the Man~Totally overcome by ~Lady Curiosity~Bounded over the Alignment Fence~Dashed Promptly to the Boxes~Scattering them all over the Yard~Trying to Discover ~ "THE SOURCE" .. Only ONE box remained ~after opening~All the Others! NOW he would find the ANSWER! He carefully approached the LAST BOX~Gently pulled it closer~looking for a way to Open~------- Lifting Lid carefully~Slowly~KITTY~came Bounding out~All claws~digging and clinging to His chest~Was that FEAR_~~__HE SAW in KITTY'S eyes?___ "AS His ALARM-CLOCK ,, Screamed out to Him___"AWAKEN______
Jun 15, 2011
Jun 15, 2011 at 4:15 AM UTC
Disney
Like America
Looks awesome in the brochure
But feels faded and slightly forced
A bit of a letdown after the buildup
Still
Wild eyed zealots
Sacrifice their year’s savings at the altar of the mouse
A western Hajj eulogized by matching Toy Story t shirts
I really feel
I missed an important moment of cultural indoctrination
That left me insensitive
To the draw of this place.
A surprise comes though,
As instead of the expected moral superiority
I feel a sense
Of loneliness
And societal exclusion
As I watch
An old man with a silhouette of Mickey Mouse tattooed on his forearm
Happily
Buy a Bud Light for $5.95
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 8:06 PM UTC
Dear Mr. Heaney
I wish I'd read your poetry
years ago when I was still impressionable and coy and all that jazz.
Now it resounds in my skull, leaving a tingle in my right hand.
My pen is somewhat snug, but a revolver, no.
Ink and shovels aren't far from each other,
so your point is well-taken. In fact, they're co-workers –
Ink's proved itself just as deadly. It slowly ushers men into the earth,
their soil-seat, while the shovel stages the unending play;
the eternal lattice.
The Nobel hung above your head,
the vast array of pins, medals, papers with your name in billowing scarlet.
What a treat. Like the last cupcake in the back of
the refrigerator that had too much chocolate icing and was only
semi-covered in multi-colored snowflakes. I'd loved to have
personally presented it to you. There'd be my own plaque,
billowing scarlet and all. It'd say, "Mr. Heaney,
, you must own a ***** I hope you'd laugh, and not be offended,
thinking me a distasteful and insensitive lout. It may not be right,
but I can't help but steal the volumes surrounding yours out of
every **** library so
"Seamus Heaney"
may catch the eye of the common passerby
more easily. I think I even went to work on
enhancing a spine with a red sharpie once.
Red hits the eye hard.
That was in the central library downtown.
Don't tell anyone.
Beyond a laugh, what I hope for most is that you get this letter.
Just look at it.
Wonder why someone so far removed in age and culture and place
would ever think of you holding an over-frosted desert as glorious.
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 7:50 PM UTC
Should I hang with my friend who I haven't seen in a year or go meet this tinder girl?
Someone New - Hozier
I just can't put my finger on it.
something about her is goregous.
Baby Got Back - Jonathon Coulton
You're right. It's totally her ***
Ugly Faces - Watsky
Shh, spotify, be nice. It's not her fault.
Do Better - Say Anything
Okay okay, you're right. I'll bring her home.
All Time Low - Jon Bellion
Oh c'mon, She's not that bad...
Proove Me Wrong - Dub FX
Well like... her personality is pretty cute.
Some Girls Are Crazy - Echo Movement
I can't beleive I just had *** in my backseat.
Glad You Came - The Wanted
Yikes. All the girls dropped from this party. it's just gonna be me and my three dude friends.
*To Many ***** On The Dancefloor - Flight Of The Concords*
I completely agree. Should i go or just come up with a ****** excuse to leave?
*You Don't Have To Be A ********** - Flight Of The Concords*
You're right i'll leave. What should i tell them?
Working - I Fight Dragons
No i already told them i got the day off. That wouldn't work.
My Buddy's Back - Big D and The Kids Table
Oh perfect!
Sleepyhead - Passion Pit
Yeah I should go to bed.
Let me finish this poem first.
Go To Bed - Ookla The Mok
I'm stuck on this line.
What's a good word to describe Port Veritas? Like... one word?
Home - Phillip Phillips.
That's adorable... you're so right.
See You Again - Wiz Kahlifa
**** you spotify that was super uncalled for. Now i'm bummed out.
Get Over It - Ok Go
Dude. That's like super insensitive
Ungrateful - Streetlight Manifesto
No i'm not ungrateful. I love you, you just don't need to make me cry when i'm down in the dumps like that.
Lean Into The Fall - Mona
I guess you're right. Fine. Thank you.
All The Stars In Texas - Ludo
That's the nicest thing that anyones ever said to me. I like when you do that.
Like or Like Like - Miniature Tigers
Uhh, i guess like like. You're pretty much my favorite app.
R U Mine? - Arctic Monleys.
I think maybe you're moving a little fast spotify... i don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment.
I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys
This is getting weird. I'm going to bed.
I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie
Okay no, seriously i'm turning you off.
Don't Unplug Me - All Caps.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 12:55 AM UTC
The devil sat next to her offering Sumatra blend coffee as a peace offering
He had an intimidating persuasive grin
Her soul was shrinking
Her ******* were missing
He trapped her plotting
His key was twisting into Hells room floor
She could no longer ignore his insensitive personality
His life style was to **** expensive
A clock tick tocking rhythm less
She still held her head high
He never seemed surprised when she said goodbye
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 7:18 PM UTC
I don’t think I could tell you of ease
But I see you across from this sea in between
Shifting in your seat, nursing a dull ache
I know that feeling all too well
But I don’t want to tell you about it
In case I may come across insensitive
Because I’m trying not to shift this center of gravity
We both share in desperation
And tip us over the edge
We didn’t dare to wonder about
But I never learned to swim
And this sea in between
is filling up my lungs
When did it get so hard to breathe?
I call after you, under my shallow breath
I see you for everything
Hoping you see me too
But this heavy air we drink
Settles in your shadow and mine
It spells out gracefully
That the spaces between us
Are built out of love
And so, we go on
Paving distances
For these descending clouds
Nov 13, 2023
Nov 13, 2023 at 1:55 AM UTC
Have we met?
Maybe yes, maybe no
But in your head
There must be an image of me.
Either real, sketchy, vague or an imagination
To some a rare gem
To others is a beautiful devil
And to you...
maybe just a facebook friend.
Maybe it’s the smiling girl
In my profile picture,
Who got your attention...
Or maybe it was that awkward update
That got you thinking.
Or maybe it’s the color of her eyes,
Or is it the long slender legs
In that party dress as she walks across the street?
Mhhh... Just maybe
You must be wondering
Why am writing all this
I would love to answer you
But I really don’t know
What my last line will be like.
So, will keep writing...
Do you ever wonder why this girl isn’t constant?
Today she is in love
Tomorrow her man is a pain on her neck,
One minute she is your friend
The other minute you are a stranger
I think i know why...
She is like you, she is human!
She may not live long enough
To defend all her flaws
Or brag about her perfections
But I can tell you a few things about her...
Some she isn’t proud of
But others she wouldn’t change
Just to please a crowd
She has a beautiful heart
To complement her warm smile
But she has a temper too
Which beats that of a betrayed woman
She is opinionated
But still a good listener.
But an insensitive word...
Hurts her like a sharp sword.
So, if you haven’t met her,
Now you know something about her
Do I need write more?
Oh yes, tomorrow i will write, and the day after
Maybe about you, or about my shoe or the trees
Everyday I will write.
C@P2013 September 4, 2013 at 8:53pm
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
The shoes of a dead man
For you to walk
And his blade
For you to ****
Every page vanished
And every memory
But not the paper upon which it was written
And the dust
Under which it was hidden
Traces of direction
Windblown
A new future
Waiting for ripples to die
To see the reflection
And the form
That must be overcome
In the eyes of others
To determine need
Though not enough
In the eyes of others
To speak
Or live in silence
To write
Or to think
For who would listen
Or learn
From a man wearing a dead man’s shoes?
Because they are not wearing them
Only you
The blasphemy of discarding his past
But saving his presence
Is only for you to know
The willful generation
The one that learns from the past
But lives for the future
While others
Ignore the past
And die before they say amen
But not the man walking in a dead man’s shoes
Inside a book
Inside another book
Choosing the prophecy
That fits his needs
But not the worlds
Because they wouldn’t understand
Even if it was written in their language
Nobody can understand
Except the man walking in a dead man’s shoes
He knows death
And every word is life
So he reads
And prays
And does not bring who he is
Because he is not the book
He is only the man walking in a dead man’s shoes
He cannot hear anything
Or see color
Only the desperation that fills the void
Between men
And their confusion
That he is unafraid
And able to walk between people
Without explanation
Or justification
Because they wouldn’t understand
Nobody can understand
Except the man walking in a dead man’s shoes
So don’t ask
Don’t ask
You do not know how to ask
Or what to do with wisdom
They are just words
Words that amaze you
But cannot change you
Because to you they are words
To him they only describe
An approximation
A sketch
Of smoke
From a fire
That you cannot see
Or feel
Not like him
Because you are not a man wearing a dead man’s shoes
It is much worse than you think
Because you won’t confront it
You are insensitive
Dehumanized
The only ones worth living must believe as you do
Thoughts are life to you
Certain thoughts
Thoughts that may be right or may be wrong
Thoughts that cannot be described by one man the same as another
But thoughts that he will not speak
Because he is walking in a dead man’s shoes
Without the blade
For he does not come to you by the sword
For separation is only by choice
His alone
Without bloodshed
Without the desire of what you have
For he is not a thief
He will live without it
He will never take it
For his interest is not in what you have
But in what he can earn
And what is provided
As it is given by the world
As it is described
In the prophecy
That best fits his needs
Because he is a man walking in a dead man’s shoes
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 3:54 PM UTC
There is a time in a person's life when that internal clock will ring
when a higher force will wake us from our slumber with a sting
having been given individual trials, we hope we'll do our best
but we are insensitive, overcome with laziness, a desire for rest
The little things in life, how so often we take them for granted
quickly losing touch with reality, and becoming disenchanted
thinking we can forge relationships, with the blinking of an eye
failing to feel the hurt we cause others, with our final good-bye
We, as human beings, must first come to acknowledge the truth
the problems we all hide in our closet, they started in our youth
but the error of our thinking, is clear and can only be addressed
when we're willing to accept the fact, that this life is only a test
Attempts at self denial are truly futile, because you remain unchanged
accomplishing nothing, only from yourself will you become estranged
an endless light of healing must be released, to that location unknown
thereby removing that which blocks our thinking, our heart of stone
Your mind is your cage, only if you desire, you can set yourself free
don't believe in the lies you're told, you can be what you want to be
if you never give up, you alone will be able to preserve the true way
by choosing your destiny, no one else will, because this is your day
Liberate yourself from the enslavement, transitory passions of the day
either stand up to the pressures, or you'll just find yourself blown away
you must trust your heart as it knows the truth, and it alone will succeed
choosing the only real path, that path from where the light shall proceed
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC
They say that lightning strikes are one in a million.
Then how is it that every time
you hold my hand
or stare into my blushing face,
that a jolt,
of pure electricity
runs through our shared connection,
bound in tiny intricacies in our veins,
restless in our hearts,
our minds?
I would love to believe that,
that lightning only strikes at impossible odds-
but I can't,
not while I am touching you;
my own heart is a live wire and jumping into my throat
with the raw voltage
coursing through me-
terrifying,
exhilarating,
breathtaking-
and belies the science I know
will disagree with me.
It can never know
the passion of traveling at love's breakneck speed
believing in someone else,
trusting them to catch you when you burn up
or to push you up when you can't remember the light.
It could never know the terrible loss of energy
when the one you love hurts,
speared by insensitive sparks.
It could never know
life in all its tiny fractured facets,
believing that one answer is all that is needed-
that lightning is impossible to contain.
I laugh at the sheer ludicrousness though-
Me?
A human lightning strike?
ABSURD.
But you take my hand again,
promising so many good moments ahead,
so many beautiful ideas
and dreams together,
and my heart leaps-
flying and flipping in ecstasy-
and I know-
Lightning strikes are one in a million,
and I was lucky enough to be struck by yours.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 6:54 PM UTC
Life
Happens so quickly
You must divide it
Into sections
Almost like a
Different fragrance in the air
Another perfume or
Like re seeing
everything you saw before
Through technicolor eyes
Only there's a new color
A fresh shade
of spatial light fragments
Consuming your being
And warping you into
A new stage
Hitting you with
Intensities
Of our so called journey
Turning
the dial on your radio
So
the frequencies align
In a continuity of waves
Colliding
amongst pink matter
The insensitive intensities
Present to me
A mystery
Or so it seems
A new light
A dawn to the dusk
Of my fragile fifth stage
But I lost count
And forgot the feeling
You'll know when it happens
It'll flow through you
And you'll realize
You've felt it before too
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 5:48 PM UTC
*You're a trifling piece of **** excuse for a woman……
Mommy Dearest
Don't play the role now, where were you when you were needed, when you left me around whoever and I wanted to go with you, when I begged and pleaded.
Mommy Dearest
You turned your head when you knew....I was in the other room, being molested. And of course it's nothing new, that you played dumb and never confessed it
Mommy Dearest
A high was more important, assisted with your cruel insensitive nature. Shady willow tree in the summer, cold as the arctic glaciers.
Mommy Dearest
As far as I'm concerned we know I raised myself. So think of me as dead and expect nothing on the 12th……
.....Mommy Dearest*
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 11:25 PM UTC
Shipwrecked heart
Sea of betrayals
Misconceived idioms,
Blindly enslaved.
Was it really worth it anyway?
Fighting with hope; a lost battle.
Fallible carcasses on a wooden platter.
Poisonous Ivy in my veins;
silent heartbeat bursting into flames.
Time is a thief,
buried beneath the sea.
Was it really worth the wait?
Fighting for love; a lost cause.
Permeable holes in an empty cup.
Troubling nature, impatient thoughts.
Infected,
Standing aloof.
Leveled indifference,
taciturn blind goof.
Lost chance; misleading poker glance.
Arms twisted, magnificent ache.
Ashes corroding the mechanical brain.
Bloodbath,
besieged wound.
Abrasive torture,
revealing the truth.
Cursed fortune; insensitive to pain.
Piercing a bullet through the soul,
expressed disdain.
Adamant rapture
with no return.
Imprisoned belief
with no more fire to burn.
By: Michael M. De La Fuente
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
you are the single most difficult thing
i've ever had the curse of caring for
you're confusing and secretive and indecisive and insensitive
and the way you treat me, no one ever deserves to be treated
and at one point i fell hard
so so hard
yet i knew that they were just games
but why did it seem like i could never win?
it frustrated me like hell
because when i compete, i win
what the hell made you so special
that you could beat me in every single battle?
that i was willing to lose the war to you?
then i became angry
i wanted to take sweet revenge
my heart became cold
and it yearned to break yours
...or I thought it did
you're like that stray piece of hair
that never seems to stay where it should
you dont know where you stand in my life
yet you still barge in like you own it
and up to today i ask myself
why do i let you?
you are nothing great
you are nothing special
you are nothing
to me
and i know that i'm probably lying to myself
but you should know that although im a superwoman
whom you're stupid not to love
i'm getting tired too
and you, my kryptonite,
i will soon be immune to
because darling
i think i'm finally tired of loving you
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 10:59 AM UTC