"insightful" poems
I am warmhearted and icy cold,
with a pretty face that's getting old.
I am fragile yet tough as a man,
struggle thru life with no real plan.
I am petite and cuss like a trucker,
slightly naive, but I'm no sucker.
I am a sinner with a halo of gold,
an open book with secrets untold.
I am a hypocrite but always play fair,
a bleeding heart and I don't care.
I am a mother who acts like a child,
crazy, impatient and easily riled.
I am spontaneous and I am a bore,
forever forgiving, I still keep score.
I am unstable and wonderfully wise,
a ****** deviant in sweet disguise.
I am creative and self-destructive
naturally skilled and unproductive.
I am shy and I am outspoken
with a heart of stone, easily broken.
I am awkward and well refined,
lost, insightful and a little love-blind.
I am respected and I am addicted
shamed by burdens, self inflicted.
I am a perfectionist and I am a slob,
unbiased and shallow, an inept snob.
I am nocturnal, a creature of night,
blissfully ignorant, typically right.
I am cautious and I have no fear,
a loser and quitter, still I persevere.
I am brilliant and easily amused,
over-zealous and under-enthused.
I am impervious with wounds to heal,
an occasional liar just keepin' it real.
I am weird and lovely and mean-
I am what I am.......100 Aileen.
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 3:50 PM UTC
Tap, tap, tap on your little device
Do you wish to hear my insightful advice?
Look up, not down
Take a walk into town.
Throw your phone away,
you won't need it today.
Appreciate the yellows, greens, and blues
Mother Nature won't mind if you use her bed for a snooze.
Tap, tap, tap on your useless device
You ought to hear my insightful advice.
Stop damaging your eyes
There's a much bigger prize.
Be wholly alive and tough,
You'll be dead soon enough.
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
I have a nephew who's full of life
Makes me happy in this **** life .
He is the rising sun
Breaking light on every one
Helping me smile
Helping me be free
Colors just burst for he
He can not talk
He is special needs
But in his silence
I no his needs
He also smart
He understands me
He make me laugh
He so full of glee
So happy
So insightful
So misunderstood
He walks in a room
A bomb of energy
Oh dear sweet boy
I do love thee
Thankyou for trusting me
Thankyou for showing me
How to be free
You are the fastest river I ever see run
The strongest boy
So full of joy
Heart so pure
Colours dance around you when you sleep
He is the kindest wee boy you will ever meet x
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 9:18 AM UTC
I start to answer her question,
She seems taken aback.
I rattle off my list.
“Witty comments,
An easy found laughter…
I like competitiveness
That’s wraps itself around playfulness,
Like I want to wrap myself around
His big found epiphanies.
Symphony of intellectual connecting’s and
Good intuition.
A quick reaction time, helping you step away
Before **** has had time to hit the fan.
Eagerness to help other human beings…
Taking advantages of opportunities instead of people
Charisma that is unselfish in its tendency to be noticed.
Awareness of one’s self.
a knack for insightful observing.”
These a list of things I find attractive
But yes he also has a nice jaw line
It traces lovely underneath a finger tip
But it’s a faraway line on a map
That has eloquently plotted out his most beautiful parts
It’s faded and dim in comparison to the additional obvious existing’s
It is so far from those parts of him I find to be most beautiful
That I hardly understand how out of all of it
That was the only thing you really responded to.
The only part of the map you related enough to
To point to and say I have been there.
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 2:37 AM UTC
Writer's block again,
and from return; my heart descends.
A knock, at the door?
What are they here for?
Hiding in the floors, the deaths
of my enemies,
a funeral of my thoughts,
and they were meant to stay away.
Yet you wished them here,
just so you can write them.
And they want you near,
so you can recite them.
Insightful, isn't it?
You need to invite them in,
and this time; they'll only stay
for the titles and poetry, no.
You're much too confident
that you can kick them out,
you need them;
and they want you.
Next evacuation;
hopefully you'll choose
yourself,
but we know you never
do-
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 11:21 PM UTC
I feel I am stuck
With a bear in my hut
The forest - surrounding
Our friendship - enticing
We sit and drink tea
Like there’s nothing to see
We chat about the weather
and how it could be
There is meaning in absurdity
With insightful profundity
From a grizzly stream
words enter the scene
They're washing right over
The things we don't see
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 5:14 AM UTC
Looks I was given, words received
Sunk in deep
I felt as much use as a chocolate teapot
As resilient as a glass hammer
Looking much like a dogs dinner
As fragrant as a refuse truck.
Insightful as a blind guide dog
Buoyant as a lead balloon
I sank deep
My bounce lost,
like a concrete trampoline
Lost my grip
like a fumbling toothless vampire bat
Feeling as welcome
as a fur coat worn
In a vegan cafe.
Now resurfacing
I know that there's no use
in contriving to feel bad.
I'm going to either
line my chocolate teapot
to make it work
or savour every bite of it!
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 5:29 PM UTC
POTATOES are so livid,
and i think
if your belly had eyes like your face
you would be half as insightful
as three words crawl over your skin
while you sleep
while you think
while you push buttons and feed
your ears with POTATOES.
for we are God, and you
you are not.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC
Let go of the problem weighing your soul down
Lay your head on your pillow; rest
Listen to insightful words
Let my advice help you do what's best.
Slowly moving between dark realms
Tingling with faint apprehension
Entranced, stumbling in a clouded stupor
Ravenous greed beyond my comprehension.
What will it take to open your eyes?
Days are fading fast
Insecure about how many tomorrows you have
Or rather, how many you lack.
We have little time on Earth
I am screaming but you won't wake up
Hearing same opinions repeated
Broken spirit remains stuck.
Center of your universe
Drugs have your mind caged
I cannot tell which parts are real
Which are perfectly staged.
Your forgery is well-crafted now
The world is starting to see
The way you live not good or right
To speak then act differently.
Could I aid your hand somehow?
Each attempt met with resistance
Say the same phrases each time
From each other grow distant.
Honestly it has been over for awhile
I have given our love my all
Though I wish we could be together
It hurts too bad to sit back and watch you fall.
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 5:41 AM UTC
The night approaches swiftly, like a tiger on the prowl,
As the night moves forward you can hear the hoots of Great Horned Owl.
The hours pass by and the clock keeps on ticking,
And here I lay on the couch just thinking.
In my time of relaxation I pondered and I thought,
Is the path that I’m on a wise one or not?
Hour after hour I begin to feel sleepy.
So I rush to my bed, relaxed, until I feel something beneath me.
In a rage the room turns pitch black, with flashes of red and yellow.
And in a panic I jump off my bed and run like a crazed fellow.
The door slams shut and my panic becomes deeper,
Until I hear the voice of a mysterious twisted creature.
“He says be wise with decisions that are made with haste,
You would never want a fortunate opportunity to go to waste.
Never feel forced to be on time with what you choose,
Because it will not be the respect of others, in which you lose.
Indecisiveness is wisdom, which with time will bloom,
So from here on out do not spend your days in gloom.
If these words are not followed, a different life you shall live.
A life in which you are selfish and refuse to charitably give.
One that is chronological and filled with bland affairs,
A life that is careless and lacking in truths or dares.
In the blink of an eye light pours in from spontaneous lightening,
And in a matter of seconds this all feels more frightening.
I turn to open the door, but the door will not open,
Scared for my life, I scream “This isn't the path I have chosen.”
As I lift my head up and turn around, the monster in no longer there,
At last my room is filled with light, it was all just an insightful nightmare.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 6:06 PM UTC
Fear
Judged by irrationality
Hidden in accidental oversights
Feeding the dragon that leaks molten lava in salty streaks of regret
Fear
Empty wasted emotion
Saving ourselves from ourselves
Saving you from me
Worst case scenarios never included you punishing me at the sight of my weakness
Fear
You only love me beautiful
Love is a profound type of collective psychosis
Looks like strength but hides the truth
The truth that certainty is the truest delusion
Fear
On my best day, in the best possible scenario, I am still invisible
Open and still transparent
Full and still forgotten
Insightful and irrelevant my thoughts pour out unheard
Fear
In my demon's shadows lives the truth of my vulnerability
I am weak because I love you
I am a warrior because you love me
I am strong because I love you
I am a lamb because you love me
Fear
Spilling my unseen secrets
My evil self-talk, my mantra of honest lies
The purr of a kitten unsettles a soul beginning to believe it mattered
Pain dismissed in the peaceful snores of a tired moon
Fear
The sun shines in hope on the remnants of dream
On the nightmare of forgotten, overlooked, inconsequential truth
Empty apologies and the familiarity of beloved anguish
Herald the realization, that words don't matter
Truth or lies, faithless faithful, and a newfound silence
Fear
Invisible save for the ash lines that tell the tale
Of how I begged forgiveness for sharing my tormented and twisted mind
Only to be interrupted by the sounds of your peaceful slumber
Fear
To be everything to your everything
and realize I am still........nothing at all
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 3:44 AM UTC
I'm addicted
Something I can't cure
Simple and pure
To touch and watch it melt
Mmmmmm
How so good that felt
Warm, pleasing on my lips
In little strips it drips
Under the wrapping, so strapping
****
Its a victimless crime
In my prime, it feels sublime
In my mouth, moving all around
Tastes so good, need to lie down
Creamy center, nothing so delightful
Its beautiful, insightful
Mmmmmm
Delicious, begging for more
Just need another score
Addicted to the taste
Can't let it go to waste
I'm Addicted
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
Blank mind
Eyes open
Intake everything
Or focus on a
Singular star.
Any number of
Profound and perfect things
Could be murmured right now
And etched into the
Night sky’s infinite existence
To dance with the stars
*So I—
With hands cupped over mouth,
Eyes bleary from tears,
And hoarse voiced—
Whisper*
“I’m so stupid”
And it was by far
The most insightful,
True,
And honest thing
I’ve ever said.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
Your eyes.
I can't stop writing about them.
I can't stop dreaming about them gleaming like sunlight beaming into the windows of my soul.
And I've been meaning to tell you-
Heighten the blinds.
I can't stop fiending to be the reflection in your infliction
The mirroring of eyes, my line of sight in your line of vision
Our pupils don't just collide, they cause a collision
And uh,
The precision of your gaze fogs all coherency to a haze
And it's seeming
There's a thousand words teeming off the levees of my lips
But you got me in a daze and the waves crash silent
See inside I'm screaming
They say the flames radiated from desire are the fires most violent
And I feel your vibes like radiation;
Hazardous to both mind and body.
Detrimental to the soul.
I believe in whole this is not an illusion
They say the eyes never hide from the truth
-and the truth never lies-
See, I've already eyed your eyes
I'm not convinced this is confusion
I've come to the conclusion that
If I confided in you,
Could you agree it's a delusion
You've been opening the window;
You want to be
Inside.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 4:54 PM UTC
This is not really a poem; just an insightful realization of mine
We have this mainstream perception of human life—that we grow to freely love the things we desire to love. We are biologically-inclined to conform to the intuitive notion of 'freewill'. But what is supposed to be imprinted in our minds turns out to be no more false than the number zero being larger than one; in actuality, we are nothing but biological clockwork confined to obey the laws of nature.
Every atom in our body, every neuron streaking in our nerves, and every step we take, our body does so, for the laws of nature require it to. Our actions are as predetermined as the orbits of the planets, and paradoxically, it is as probabilistic as the location of an electron in its quantum orbit. We don't act out of our own will; we act out of necessity, for the laws of nature require us to behave the way we should be behaving.
They call it Scientific Determinism.
Disturbing, isn't it? And what does that make out of freewill and love? Simply put: freewill is an illusion, and love is the sweetest lie ever conjured up in this Universe. Even so, we still choose to believe in both. Why? Because we're humans; we long to live our life with a purpose, even if it takes for us to make up our own.
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 11:45 AM UTC
Gazing up at the sky with that stupid grin on my face
Radiant with undisguised joy
I said
Thank you for hanging out with me.
I didn’t mean that
Not exactly
And I don’t believe you think I did-
I think you saw through me
Completely.
You looked at me sidelong
And I blushed,
Having just seen
Forests and deserts and oceans in your eyes
Having just seen the world all wrapped up in a person
Looking at me
And been
Overwhelmed.
See?-
I can’t just say
What I mean.
Especially not when what I mean is
Thank you
For ever being near me in this world.
Thank you for the nights I’ve given up sleep
To sit and watch the light seep through my curtains, lost in the strange beauty of your dreams and thoughts and ideas.
Thank you for your art
That digs its way into my heart and takes root there
Making me vibrant inside.
Thank you for those times I’ve spent
Happily close to you
The warmth like sunlight that spreads through me whenever I see you.
Thank you for the beauty I notice in the world
When I think about you-
The broken glass on my street
Suddenly like fallen stars.
The little weeds that push valiantly up through the cracks
Like mighty trees.
The lights spilling over the pavement
Like dawn.
Thank you for
The chance to feel
Alive.
Thank you for knowing me.
Thank you for letting me in.
Thank you for letting me in even though you know me.
Thank you for the image of an odd, smart, wonderful little kid
Asking mom what color her A was.
Thank you for the tenderness that brought to my heart.
Thank you for your stories and your courage and your wit.
Thank you for looking at me with gentleness.
Thank you for giving me some of your time.
Thank you for your passions, your dark, angry moments,
The beautiful, bitter hurt you carry inside of you and let me witness like a storm at sea
But always shelter me from being touched by.
Thank you for being the kind of person
Who struggles to understand being loved
But does not rage against it.
Thank you for being kind.
Thank you for being complicated.
Thank you for being strong, and insightful, and wicked, and bold.
Thank you for hoping I’ll be happy.
Thank you for making me happy.
Thank you for the moments when I can look at your face in full
Its captivating beauty
The little thoughts that pass across it like clouds across the sky
Mischief and vulnerability and laughter and pain all mingling in your eyes.
When I look at you like that I feel like I might belong somewhere someday.
Thank you for being sarcastic, and humble, and sweet, all at once, all the time.
The truth is that when I said thank you for hanging out with me,
I really meant
Thank you
For being.
I meant thank you, thank you, thank you
For ever being born.
But,
After all,
You can’t just say that.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 2:23 AM UTC
Mild day in winter, week before Christmas
Turns out the tree in your front yard has been
A holly tree all along, finally showing true colors
As a taxi driver leaves the driveway and
A neighbor in a red shirt crosses the concrete
Sidewalk. The succulents to my side reach like alien
Synapses, your white car looks at me cross-
eyed, cinnabar brick damp with Peninsula fog.
The morning’s cup of coffee still lingers on my
Tongue, my body aches with last night’s indulgences
And repressions. Warmth is relative, hangovers
Are absolute. A pagan zodiac spins inside a
Haze of long-lost memories, a gauntlet of trees.
A gentler repercussion, a less insightful song,
For I am only human, stains on my sleeve,
Sleeping in when I should be producing anything.
I forget what I am, except a shivering flesh vessel.
I cannot remember what I was supposed
To be.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
You at least went.
so that meant the party could finally be awkward.
that's homeroom
at your personal Harvard
your low self esteem was the head dean
[ claimed you had promise ]
then promptly vomits
but you promised to maim
your lollipops with hot topic's
most goth night-shade of hemlock
iron-on, henna tattoos
for your thin lips.
like two gates
to a birdcage
where you keep
ravens...
pecking the tip of your tongue
where your brave words die
for lack of oxygen... pecking
the flesh off the skeleton key
to the heart of your insightful
comment,... stymied -
a black raven
savors the succulent eyes
of your hurricanes, so
braille maps for blind rage
fly off the shelves... fly like
led zeppelins to
fresh hell.
you lose your window seat
on the wing of a prayer
to Charles Bukowski.
now you're scowling a gilded smile
at all the Ed Hardlys'...
good thing you brought Jello Biafra Shots
to the shindig... cubes of gelatinous absinthe
each with a sugar box
lodged in supermax insecurity prisms...
fey emeralds.
monochrome rubicons
you pop
when cross.
like wainscoting the panic room
that came with a deejay
who thinks you're
a boy who got
lost.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 7:10 AM UTC
*November 29th, 2014
Dear Chris:*
I miss you dear, I'd like to say.* Though it's been six months, thoughts of you are here to stay. My words turn to putty and I wish to form them like clay because there's so much to you I wish to convey. I've been traveling and unraveling the belt loops of life, and striding through gliding on ice skates from strife. I don't know if still I can sing the same tune. Our dreams from the Bay have been vexing me; perplexing me since June. The ring you gave me has my fingers swollen like my head, just like a balloon! And I don't know if it makes me sullen to confess when you asked for my hand, even hypothetically, I was to be your wife complete with white dress. Somewhere along the line that dream has changed. Though I feel that this letter was written selfishly. I really must say.. All I know is that I miss you Chris, I have missed you since May.
-Adeline
December 1st, 2014
Adeline:
I was wanton and flagrant when your letter was received. I was bounding and bursting; hardly contained in my seat. Your familiar fragrance beseeching my heart's conceit, and in your confidence said that you're missing me. Until the usual silence declares again it's already half past three. Time to wash away delusions that are causing my hope to reek.
Still..
Certainly there will be another chance to hear from you next week.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 3:02 PM UTC
Suppose I was more agreeable
Instead of arguing over coffee about politics, religion
*All those subjects deemed taboo that neither of us truly give a **** about*
Pressing my point like daggers against your ribcage
Knowing the sweet spots that make you moan
I would give in, applaud your cleverness, then leave for work
You would be left wondering if you should feel insulted.
of course you should
As usual,my filterless memoirs have become vocalized
******* them back in tight and quick is useless
Once freed, the damage is done
But. they. are . just. words.
the previous statement is ridiculous and the author should be shot
Never could I slice you deeper, **** your private mind or lay your soul bare
Then with the bitter, caustic, truthful edge of my observations
You are just as vulnerable as the rest of them
Barbed wire telegrams
Frozen emails
Ash and arsenic letters
Cut you to the quick
Delightful.
But I like it better when I can witness the damage
Basking in the upper handed afterglow of my superior ability to mortally wound
For no bit of silver that I've ever found
Was ever sharper than the razor edge of my tongue
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 11:01 PM UTC
I have a million things to say.
Yet I keep silent.
I pepper my conversations with pregnant pauses --
Uncomfortable breaks which throw the whole thing off kilter
and send the other party slinking away.
Much later I practice what I might have said --
Something remarkable or brazen, hilarious or incredibly insightful.
But it's much too late.
Like a show horse balking at a gate, I arrived at the moment of truth
and chickened out.
I could have made the jump, I just lacked the necessary courage.
I marvel at people who are so
comfortable in their own skins that they can
talk with ease and aplum in any situation.
I envy them.
Truth be told, I hate them.
Don't they know I have something great to say?
I'm just a little slow on the draw...
Okay, a lot slow...
But I do have a million things to say.
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 5:17 PM UTC
the early riser guider, pastel orb of high color value,
looks askance at the two men watching it,
for fresh and clean, it, the sun, from
the horizon born and bathed and toweled blue terry sky dry
the men, well they stinkin'
from body sweat hikin' and grease and drinkin'
Mr. Coffee and cheap *****
an expensive high, when next day payback comes due
but none better for inspire to hire and
merging men's alternative verses writ in alternating styles,
trading stanzas under a lighting-felled inspiration tree,
waiting for that insightful light that comes too brief
how can it be each thinks, that tho never in the flesh met,
thank to Mr. Coffee and cheap *****
the bond just gets stronger every day way,
the poetry better with each sippin',
as many rivers confluent on their way home
to the slightly jealous observing Pacific sea,
the original mother lode of all creation,
well, She says:
*"boys,
good job and good luck remembering anything
and getting home safe and sound!"*
to which we drink a toast of Mr. Coffee and cheap *****
and it ocurs to one, perhaps both,
this is kinda a love poem after all
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 11:15 AM UTC
In my heart
I feel a sweet melody.
Albeit, playing a little off-key.
Deep, insightful dreams
Do awaken me
And disturb
My sweet insanity.
No love, for which I do seek
Can remove the remnants
Of sweet animosity.
Playful moods disturb my reverie
And all succumb
To my blissful idiocracy.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 2:57 PM UTC
It is almost painful trying to fathom the reason some men take a woman's intelligence and blatantly play it down.
Shouting out from behind me " hey ma lemmi holla at cha" I must inform you will never get this female to turn around .
I do not find your uncultivated demeanor flattering in the least, in fact it makes you somewhat insignificant, not worth a second look.
I want nothing to do with your infantile swagger in capable of sharing coherent insightful thoughts, afraid to stray from the same old play book.
A physical attraction is of some importance, but I am more enthralled when a man hears, not only listens to the words that are spoken to him.
Serenade me with your ability to articulate raw emotion thru flowing words, entice me with an intriguing mind, show me that you are a rare gem.
As for those males pretending to be men, but in reality can't even wrap their minds around the idea, don't waste your time with me, your ego will just get bruised.
If it is my attention that he seeks, a man must be confident that he can stimulate my mind, draw me in by the rhythm of the words he has used.
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 6:57 AM UTC
You intrigue,
With your unsubtle unsettled intent to decieve,
Breadcrumb clues
Your gender;
(don't care)
Your age
(don't care, but oft
Insightful)
<>
Only two things do I require;
Any name you wish to provide,
(So intriguing, always a poem in & of itself),
And from where you hale/hail,
So my imaginings can fly to you
With full embrace
<>
Sunday
July 20th
2025
Still & Quiet
in the sunroom
S.I.
Jul 20, 2025
Jul 20, 2025 at 7:22 AM UTC