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"introspective" poems
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
0
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Paradoxical Tendencies
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
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47
Can you feel all the suffering, can you see it? Stop embracing the hate of your own humanity, just quit it Why all the hypocrisy? Challenge your democracy Aim for enlightenment Fight against all ill torment Oppression, alienation, inequality The government's manipulative utilities Explore your human aptitude Your mind and your magnitude Because passion is power and You can make all evil cower Work to open your third eye Don't cry or comply, but rather ask "why?" Empathy and compassion are most important Without them, moral principles remain impotent Our world is nothing compared to the entire universe We are so small, egoistic, and it's getting worse Focused on all of the wrongs ideals Creating terrible and false ordeals Our world is cruel and mean Too many people die hungry There's no such thing as equality or true justice It does not exist in this realm of consciousness If only we could shift the system and our ways Then things would continue to fall into place But change is virtually unachievable Especially when entities with just intents are inconceivable Human beings are clueless, trapped in a trance Don't let yourself fall victim to your ignorance You need to expand your knowledge and your perspective Aim to be more pensive and introspective Challenge absolutely everything you are told Form your own beliefs, don't let your mind be controlled Remove yourself from conformity and complacency And you'll realize a multitude of problems, that I guarantee *You can't trust anything
 Hear what I'm saying 
 No you cant trust anything 
Believing is damaging
 Creating is everything, it's promising Stop adhering to societal norms
 Why do you conform
 To all that
 The government tells us
 All that society spells for us Why don't you realize
 Wake up from all the lies
 The world is an intricate place, that you can't replace
 But you can change your ways and your pace 
Create some displacement in the system Stand up your rights
 And what you believe in
 Be genuine 
Imagine
 Not one person, thing, or system
 Can tell us, control us, conform us* With enough minds open and motivated We can help those oppressed and alienated We can change this race for the better Let's all work to be that kind of trendsetter Come on, let's start a movement So we can see some real improvement In our world, our ways, and our wisdom But most importantly in the system
0
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 3:29 PM UTC
Corruption
Can you feel all the suffering, can you see it? Stop embracing the hate of your own humanity, just quit it Why all the hypocrisy? Challenge your democracy Aim for enlightenment Fight against all ill torment Oppression, alienation, inequality The government's manipulative utilities Explore your human aptitude Your mind and your magnitude Because passion is power and You can make all evil cower Work to open your third eye Don't cry or comply, but rather ask "why?" Empathy and compassion are most important Without them, moral principles remain impotent Our world is nothing compared to the entire universe We are so small, egoistic, and it's getting worse Focused on all of the wrongs ideals Creating terrible and false ordeals Our world is cruel and mean Too many people die hungry There's no such thing as equality or true justice It does not exist in this realm of consciousness If only we could shift the system and our ways Then things would continue to fall into place But change is virtually unachievable Especially when entities with just intents are inconceivable Human beings are clueless, trapped in a trance Don't let yourself fall victim to your ignorance You need to expand your knowledge and your perspective Aim to be more pensive and introspective Challenge absolutely everything you are told Form your own beliefs, don't let your mind be controlled Remove yourself from conformity and complacency And you'll realize a multitude of problems, that I guarantee *You can't trust anything
 Hear what I'm saying 
 No you cant trust anything 
Believing is damaging
 Creating is everything, it's promising Stop adhering to societal norms
 Why do you conform
 To all that
 The government tells us
 All that society spells for us Why don't you realize
 Wake up from all the lies
 The world is an intricate place, that you can't replace
 But you can change your ways and your pace 
Create some displacement in the system Stand up your rights
 And what you believe in
 Be genuine 
Imagine
 Not one person, thing, or system
 Can tell us, control us, conform us* With enough minds open and motivated We can help those oppressed and alienated We can change this race for the better Let's all work to be that kind of trendsetter Come on, let's start a movement So we can see some real improvement In our world, our ways, and our wisdom But most importantly in the system
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65
Softly seductive, some solvent serenity Under unbelievable umbrella unlimited Basking baked, both bonafide believers Making music more meaningful, memory's made Intellectual, introspective, incalculably impervious So **** said sits salted, suspecting supplantation Soon silly slips said summarize serendipitous Indefinitely inplosive, internalized into intangible inflagrante Viciousness voided, vague variables vital Eroticism enduring, end erit empathy
0
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 9:46 AM UTC
Submissive
It’s 6:15pm. Peter, Anna, Sophy and I are studying in the common room of our suite. “We need to get serious,” Peter whispered, but there was no subject in the declaration, so I was left confused and uncommitted, “about getting serious,” he clarified. “I’m not sure I can get serious about a guy who doesn’t separate whites and darks in the laundry,” I say, gently. “No,” he said, shaking his head in brief vibration, “we need to get serious about DINNER.” “Oh!” I said, maybe a little too relieved. “Ha!” He chortled, “YOU overthink everything!” He said, nodding his head up and down to prove it was true. “And speaking of laundry,” he continued, seeing me start to open my mouth, “the other night YOU asked me if your pastel purple ******* should go with the whites or darks - so I must be an EXPERT!” I laughed at the idea of his laundry expertise, sailing in from out of the purple like that, it was haywire. “Well,” I said, becoming introspective, “I didn’t know you’d hold onto that question like a grudge,” I said, in quiet, wounded accusation, “from now ON, maybe you should stay as far away from my ******* as possible.” “What are you two grousing about NOW?” Anna asked, looking up from her computer. “You guys are like an old married couple.” “True THAT.” Sophie said, like a judge right before knocking her gavel to finalize a ruling. “We weren’t arguing!” I said, looking around confusedly. I looked at Peter, who was smiling broadly, “Were we?” “Nope,” he said, wrapping his arm around me in a bearhug, “we were flirting.”
0
Sep 22, 2022
Sep 22, 2022 at 2:43 PM UTC
pastel purple
It’s 6:15pm. Peter, Anna, Sophy and I are studying in the common room of our suite. “We need to get serious,” Peter whispered, but there was no subject in the declaration, so I was left confused and uncommitted, “about getting serious,” he clarified. “I’m not sure I can get serious about a guy who doesn’t separate whites and darks in the laundry,” I say, gently. “No,” he said, shaking his head in brief vibration, “we need to get serious about DINNER.” “Oh!” I said, maybe a little too relieved. “Ha!” He chortled, “YOU overthink everything!” He said, nodding his head up and down to prove it was true. “And speaking of laundry,” he continued, seeing me start to open my mouth, “the other night YOU asked me if your pastel purple ******* should go with the whites or darks - so I must be an EXPERT!” I laughed at the idea of his laundry expertise, sailing in from out of the purple like that, it was haywire. “Well,” I said, becoming introspective, “I didn’t know you’d hold onto that question like a grudge,” I said, in quiet, wounded accusation, “from now ON, maybe you should stay as far away from my ******* as possible.” “What are you two grousing about NOW?” Anna asked, looking up from her computer. “You guys are like an old married couple.” “True THAT.” Sophie said, like a judge right before knocking her gavel to finalize a ruling. “We weren’t arguing!” I said, looking around confusedly. I looked at Peter, who was smiling broadly, “Were we?” “Nope,” he said, wrapping his arm around me in a bearhug, “we were flirting.”
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11
Be open-minded and admit the possibility That some things are objectively wrong We all live in a constant state of gray area I see you pretty often, maybe once every week or so For a moment our bubbles come very close to overlapping But they so far have always held firm Which is, in one respect, kind of amazing Yet in another, to be expected Our bubbles are made of rubber and concrete Our lives are so different - we’re separated by Class, gender, age, ethnicity and health history Different in almost every way you could imagine Save for location, which again is amazing If we ever step out of our bubbles one day And I actually hope we do It will be uncomfortable, I imagine, and also Potentially dangerous for both of us But it could turn out great Most people ask themselves I guess Whether it’s worth the risk And say no and they probably make assumptions And I so far haven’t made too many about you Although to make none is impossible and so of that I am proud Some things might be wrong even if Everyone does them and even if You or I do them constantly Without an ounce of guilt It’s possible anyway
0
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 7:25 PM UTC
Homelessness: An Introspective Ethical Analysis
the sun that ache into my skin, it beats the heat of the summer days the sound of the crickets intrude, birds are reaching up high, clouds scatter across the blue sky will feelings change? will they? i gather my attention, to my introspective words pulling the thread in my head, but as the train goes passing by the clock move closer to what matters the most, & confiscates the time that I stood by.
0
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
here we go again.
There's no mystery about the ******* ****** Open up insert instrument rub it about until sighs, screams, moans, groans, scratches, scents, and innocence escape. Pretty simple, the ******* ****** Same with the ******* **** It should feel real good or something is going wrong and you'd better check with the someone within. The resting ****** Well, that is a daily mystery of "how do I feel about this?" 'cause there's a whole bunch of weird nebulous crap going on in the daily world leaving you feeling ****** by the end of the day. But solve that mystery with something to enlighten and entice the mood and you may just awaken that ******* ****** again. (The ******* **** Well he just seems like a less introspective, more alert and easy up, easy come little fellow. Lucky chap.)
0
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC
There's no mystery about the ******* ******
How can we attain the perspective of the introspective When detectives aren't respected By crowds drawn by clowns Made vicious by the wishes Of Hades with rabies In order for humanity to progress We must all consider our place in society Emotional disclosure accelerates our human race Until externalizations halt our momentum We begin to drift Discourse drifts toward absurdity Absurdity drifts toward reality Reality drifts toward Hell And accepting reality Means accepting the bullet's laughter while it drifts through the innocent Then we must accept where our souls have drifted So our minds drift into fantasy We wrap our abandon ties around our neck And go to work We live in a society Where not giving a **** about what others think Is actually encouraged Yes, exchanging ideas can hurt That's whiplash as we stop drifting and jolt in each other's direction But communication Takes detours to dead ends As honesty and compassion Elude us In a self-perpetuating cycle When education's only purpose Is learning how to ****** each other Before we know too much Our species drifts toward extinction
0
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 5:51 AM UTC
Drift
I find myself looking for words. Combinations of feeling I did not know existed. I cannot breathe. I struggle for them & make myself a fool. The world was so big before I met you & now I'm grasping for it, unable to recall it's delusion as I am pulled into your orbit. Out of drifting dreams. My mind goes blank & all I can see is the dark galaxy that is you. Alien, beautiful & natural. You haunt me. I nearly never believed so big, & you infiltrated this complex defense to show me what's been missing. Half crazed by the loneliness of space I cannot articulate. Another form of art I hesitate to express. I do not trust myself that it will not be perfect, fluid, each stroke of the tongue like the brush fear failure. I want to show you all I see beneath the stars. Let the brilliance of the moon shine through. But she is stuck. In the cloud of curious awareness, my eloquence cripples me. How many things can I say before I lose my grace? & I dread the company of simple minds who cannot love stories. So eager, your patience holds the hand of the clock. I want to watch your eyes glow lit up by the music from my lips, & I want to be carried off by all you reminisce. I can't believe in chance when a soul like yours comes to court. Thrice even. I am challenged by the core of you. Inquiry. Things I cannot see & stopped looking for. If I take no notice, I will not be seen. Drawn into someone else's dreams, Abandoning me. I forgot how to identify with my kind so that I did not lose me. Then I rusted over. The great machine locked away while the shows went on in Technicolor. Introspective losing passion & luster inside this shell. How you found me, only body in forum. You took me out to play. Engaged, stalled, oiled & sparked Life. I am reminded of a better me. An affirmation, of my Dominant heart. His voice, the coaxing in my womb to Be. Away with closed up, dying to shine. You wanted to show me off, pretty girl. I remember being a Goddess & shattering the abyss around me with heart & raw warmth. The fire of honesty. Unsatiated wander bred in me & I held nothing back. Now the world is clay & my garden to build upon. Train me to grow. I am inspired to be stardust. Permeate every corner of this heavenly body.   I find myself the eager student of Aquarius.
0
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 1:50 AM UTC
Student of Aquarius
I find myself looking for words. Combinations of feeling I did not know existed. I cannot breathe. I struggle for them & make myself a fool. The world was so big before I met you & now I'm grasping for it, unable to recall it's delusion as I am pulled into your orbit. Out of drifting dreams. My mind goes blank & all I can see is the dark galaxy that is you. Alien, beautiful & natural. You haunt me. I nearly never believed so big, & you infiltrated this complex defense to show me what's been missing. Half crazed by the loneliness of space I cannot articulate. Another form of art I hesitate to express. I do not trust myself that it will not be perfect, fluid, each stroke of the tongue like the brush fear failure. I want to show you all I see beneath the stars. Let the brilliance of the moon shine through. But she is stuck. In the cloud of curious awareness, my eloquence cripples me. How many things can I say before I lose my grace? & I dread the company of simple minds who cannot love stories. So eager, your patience holds the hand of the clock. I want to watch your eyes glow lit up by the music from my lips, & I want to be carried off by all you reminisce. I can't believe in chance when a soul like yours comes to court. Thrice even. I am challenged by the core of you. Inquiry. Things I cannot see & stopped looking for. If I take no notice, I will not be seen. Drawn into someone else's dreams, Abandoning me. I forgot how to identify with my kind so that I did not lose me. Then I rusted over. The great machine locked away while the shows went on in Technicolor. Introspective losing passion & luster inside this shell. How you found me, only body in forum. You took me out to play. Engaged, stalled, oiled & sparked Life. I am reminded of a better me. An affirmation, of my Dominant heart. His voice, the coaxing in my womb to Be. Away with closed up, dying to shine. You wanted to show me off, pretty girl. I remember being a Goddess & shattering the abyss around me with heart & raw warmth. The fire of honesty. Unsatiated wander bred in me & I held nothing back. Now the world is clay & my garden to build upon. Train me to grow. I am inspired to be stardust. Permeate every corner of this heavenly body.   I find myself the eager student of Aquarius.
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89
Dear ************           This is the hateful letter. This is the one in which I tell you how much of a ******** you are and how I am so much better off without you, so thanks for leaving me. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. This is where I tell you that you’re an idiot if you ever thought I depended on you for my self-worth, because I don’t need you for validation, and I never have. I was trucking along just fine before you came along, and will continue to do so without you, so you can go **** yourself.           This is the part where I call you a ******* for saying all those things you said. If you weren’t trying to hurt me, you must be an idiot to think that it was a good idea to say what you did. I’ll tell you that it ****** me off to realize that you obviously didn’t know me as well as I thought you did. It ****** me off that our communication was clearly not functioning like it should have been.           And I’ll tell you how ******* livid it makes me that you just sat there and thought and thought and ******* thought about this while I was still writing ******* poems for you. I am angry at how oblivious I was, which I also blame on you. I blame you for being so introspective and quiet, for needing to think important issues through in your head, only with yourself, before you can voice them, and I am angry because you thought and thought and ******* thought and made a decision that was logical from the inside of your head and you were confused by my reaction because, surprise! Owen’s-head-logic is not the same as Katie-is-being-broken-up-with-logic. And that’s where your speech faltered, where I stopped saying the lines that you wrote for me in your script, and that’s when all of those stupid words came tumbling out of your stupid head and things continued to not go as planned and it all eventually cumulated in this: zero contact. I know it’s not what you wanted but you’re a ******* If you were smarter about it, we may still have been talking, but you said all of the exact wrong things. So I am angry at you for hurting me with your idiotic words, but I am also angry at you for pushing me away. I may have liked to still be talking to you, but all of the **** that came out of your mouth just ruined whatever chance we could have had, so way to go. You are a ruiner - and so concludes the part where everything is always your fault.           This is the part where I understand where you’re coming from, I would have broken up with me too if I were you, I know it’s hard for you to put your words together sometimes, I know your (brutal) honesty only comes from a place of love, I know you love me, I know you miss being my friend…and so on.           That last section makes me sadder than I am willing to be at this point, so I think I’ll stick with anger for the time being and you can **** my nonexistent **** ************ Your Ex-Girlfriend.
0
Jun 22, 2010
Jun 22, 2010 at 6:33 PM UTC
Love Letter XXIII - Dear ************
Dear ************           This is the hateful letter. This is the one in which I tell you how much of a ******** you are and how I am so much better off without you, so thanks for leaving me. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. This is where I tell you that you’re an idiot if you ever thought I depended on you for my self-worth, because I don’t need you for validation, and I never have. I was trucking along just fine before you came along, and will continue to do so without you, so you can go **** yourself.           This is the part where I call you a ******* for saying all those things you said. If you weren’t trying to hurt me, you must be an idiot to think that it was a good idea to say what you did. I’ll tell you that it ****** me off to realize that you obviously didn’t know me as well as I thought you did. It ****** me off that our communication was clearly not functioning like it should have been.           And I’ll tell you how ******* livid it makes me that you just sat there and thought and thought and ******* thought about this while I was still writing ******* poems for you. I am angry at how oblivious I was, which I also blame on you. I blame you for being so introspective and quiet, for needing to think important issues through in your head, only with yourself, before you can voice them, and I am angry because you thought and thought and ******* thought and made a decision that was logical from the inside of your head and you were confused by my reaction because, surprise! Owen’s-head-logic is not the same as Katie-is-being-broken-up-with-logic. And that’s where your speech faltered, where I stopped saying the lines that you wrote for me in your script, and that’s when all of those stupid words came tumbling out of your stupid head and things continued to not go as planned and it all eventually cumulated in this: zero contact. I know it’s not what you wanted but you’re a ******* If you were smarter about it, we may still have been talking, but you said all of the exact wrong things. So I am angry at you for hurting me with your idiotic words, but I am also angry at you for pushing me away. I may have liked to still be talking to you, but all of the **** that came out of your mouth just ruined whatever chance we could have had, so way to go. You are a ruiner - and so concludes the part where everything is always your fault.           This is the part where I understand where you’re coming from, I would have broken up with me too if I were you, I know it’s hard for you to put your words together sometimes, I know your (brutal) honesty only comes from a place of love, I know you love me, I know you miss being my friend…and so on.           That last section makes me sadder than I am willing to be at this point, so I think I’ll stick with anger for the time being and you can **** my nonexistent **** ************ Your Ex-Girlfriend.
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7
A bridge from colloquial to courtly fare A span where idealism and fantasy pair A railway to the existential realm; celestial lair A conduit through which rational discourse can flare Deep medium to: forage, inculcate, and inform Broad brush to paint rare beauty; sculpt surrealistic form Incisive scalpel to surgically alter the societal norm Delicate utensil to educate on civility and decorum A literary ***** a prosaic construct A mechanism our syntax to deconstruct An analytical tool; an observational viaduct Introspective milieu to reduct; extrovertive sphere to reconstruct A semantical edifice that aspiring wit, lofty orations implore An experimental structure gramatical anomalies to explore A thematic repository in which concrete ideas, abstract notions to pour A vernacular cathedral butressed by an idiomatic core
0
Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 6:37 PM UTC
On Poetry and Prose
I would live all my life in nonchalance and insouciance Were it not for making a living, which is rather a nouciance.
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4.6k
Introspective Reflection
My dreams whisper sweet things And surreptitiously speak to me My waking words are rote and empty -spilling with hypocrisy Yet their comforting embrace Simply bring smiles to my face Filling my mind while I'm asleep They send messages lined with silver That vanish when I wake To bring about a dull and listless form Who is shaping my last mistake You see I wake in a storm Simultaneously feeling constrained To my bed I can't get up while there's no filter For the rush of noises in my head If there's a difference between What you know and what you believe Then why is it not as easy To imagine my reprieve Why can I only experience a vivid life While I sleep Then once again wake up To this Fear Doubt and Anger Choking me Invoking me by pushing buttons Of their endless promises To for certain be found in youth While my vision is livid sinning Contemplating and pinpointing Who too close is uncouth You sit there and feed my veins An explanation to your lies With all the compromised Washed up water Memorized methods Coping mechanisms While it's your heart that remains Aloof Then sit there in desperation Reiterating as if you know The deep introspective answer When any fool can see your wisdom Is wrought in the vanity Of a talented dancer If you lost the truth of sanity Would you retrieve it for ten cents Or would you search inside Before hiding from the confines Of a necessary moment I'd rather die or sacrifice my life Before cowering from what's hidden The message so raw That counts your flaws Like there was some proof In what is missing But ultimately I guess It comes down to the small decision The chip on my shoulder That became a boulder When I reached out For my inner vision. So while I feel so disparate and alone In the trenches losing my senses Will I be the hero or be the villain Will I let the poison make me it's toy Or take the penicillin *Some days my life feels as heavy As that last breath left over From how loudly I shout But I guess a general synopsis to you Of how I sometimes feel inside Is a decent first step to waking up While I'm down and out*
0
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 4:53 AM UTC
Waking Up
My dreams whisper sweet things And surreptitiously speak to me My waking words are rote and empty -spilling with hypocrisy Yet their comforting embrace Simply bring smiles to my face Filling my mind while I'm asleep They send messages lined with silver That vanish when I wake To bring about a dull and listless form Who is shaping my last mistake You see I wake in a storm Simultaneously feeling constrained To my bed I can't get up while there's no filter For the rush of noises in my head If there's a difference between What you know and what you believe Then why is it not as easy To imagine my reprieve Why can I only experience a vivid life While I sleep Then once again wake up To this Fear Doubt and Anger Choking me Invoking me by pushing buttons Of their endless promises To for certain be found in youth While my vision is livid sinning Contemplating and pinpointing Who too close is uncouth You sit there and feed my veins An explanation to your lies With all the compromised Washed up water Memorized methods Coping mechanisms While it's your heart that remains Aloof Then sit there in desperation Reiterating as if you know The deep introspective answer When any fool can see your wisdom Is wrought in the vanity Of a talented dancer If you lost the truth of sanity Would you retrieve it for ten cents Or would you search inside Before hiding from the confines Of a necessary moment I'd rather die or sacrifice my life Before cowering from what's hidden The message so raw That counts your flaws Like there was some proof In what is missing But ultimately I guess It comes down to the small decision The chip on my shoulder That became a boulder When I reached out For my inner vision. So while I feel so disparate and alone In the trenches losing my senses Will I be the hero or be the villain Will I let the poison make me it's toy Or take the penicillin *Some days my life feels as heavy As that last breath left over From how loudly I shout But I guess a general synopsis to you Of how I sometimes feel inside Is a decent first step to waking up While I'm down and out*
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71
Hildegard of Bingen the most musical abbess of the year 1097 a.d. met with Jung the unconscious detective and Ginsberg the howling poet for lattes at some Starbucks in a vibrating city on a shimmering afternoon. Angelic minuets keep flowing, effervescing through my chakras like tonal champagne . . . the glowing femme declared. Beams of ethereal light infuse me, tsumanis of energy tempt me to dance right out of my habit. Ignoring the possibility of seeing a naked nun drink coffee in public, Alan mused behind his hornrims . . . I get what you mean like I have felt the same perfusion of joy watching cans of peas and ayahuasca dance with talking bananas at the A&P; Market near my pad in Brooklyn, can you dig it? Still suffering from his Freudian hangover, Carl reframed them both . . . Any conclusions or convictions drawn from such experiences may not self-verify because your introspective identifications attempt in vain to concretize the amorphicity of decentralized psychic sensations which reach conscious awareness only at the expense of extension. What did he just say? Hildegard asked Alan. I have absolutely no idea, the portly poet answered as he doodled an intricate mandala on his hemp napkin.
0
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 12:21 AM UTC
MANDALA SHMANDALA
*is it like a feather is it now or never our faces are neglected our souls are introspective gravity collected space and time dissected water is our mother the earth is our shelter a blessed sacred elder lilikoi is my favorite fragrance tastes like innocence and you must respect her amazing feelings to select the headwaters call collect protect our sacred mother dance upon the other call upon the winds feel them on your skin remove the falling stones that cover up your bones rest in love unknown concentrate until it is shown phone calls steal our happiness accidents dent our marriages darkness is our daughter streaks of light and color falling stars kept captive we plant them in our yards keepers of the spark sisters of the sparrow made of light and yarrow feathers flicker softly all our woven glory givers of the heart singers of the dark if you wish to hear them make yourself a part of the symphony lifetimes of abandonment oh so quick to fill you in on all the tragic stories what if we ignored them and stayed present in this moment filling up our cups simple days spent with simple eyes kindness supplies our alibis respect is valued like a stream in our hearts we are dipped clean threads of beauty borrowed from the scarecrow next lifetime you’ll become another source of hope ports of pleasure in our seas forever we are feeling these hopeless ropes tying up our antidotes confounded sounds mounds of hope stereoscopes and isotopes poets freely speak seek islands of wisdom on stormy seas of chatter*
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Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 9:34 AM UTC
stereoscopes and isotopes
*is it like a feather is it now or never our faces are neglected our souls are introspective gravity collected space and time dissected water is our mother the earth is our shelter a blessed sacred elder lilikoi is my favorite fragrance tastes like innocence and you must respect her amazing feelings to select the headwaters call collect protect our sacred mother dance upon the other call upon the winds feel them on your skin remove the falling stones that cover up your bones rest in love unknown concentrate until it is shown phone calls steal our happiness accidents dent our marriages darkness is our daughter streaks of light and color falling stars kept captive we plant them in our yards keepers of the spark sisters of the sparrow made of light and yarrow feathers flicker softly all our woven glory givers of the heart singers of the dark if you wish to hear them make yourself a part of the symphony lifetimes of abandonment oh so quick to fill you in on all the tragic stories what if we ignored them and stayed present in this moment filling up our cups simple days spent with simple eyes kindness supplies our alibis respect is valued like a stream in our hearts we are dipped clean threads of beauty borrowed from the scarecrow next lifetime you’ll become another source of hope ports of pleasure in our seas forever we are feeling these hopeless ropes tying up our antidotes confounded sounds mounds of hope stereoscopes and isotopes poets freely speak seek islands of wisdom on stormy seas of chatter*
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61
It's a shame how you must have aspired me to become the child you always wanted in the months and days before  I was born, before reality had its chance to construct the person I would become. when the happy news was first heard of a new child in a new world, who would be brave and cheerful and kind and above all sporty, the kind that would make an impression,a born leader and dutiful follower a proud patron of the family name. We would have much in common and I would remind you of yourselves at such an impressionable age and I would achieve all you had hoped for. But perhaps this is the great tragedy that parents stumble upon in this constant letdown of a life. You were lucky that I was an easy child,never keeping you up at night and never causing trouble, but the fact that I was lazy,introspective,morbid, cowardly,unat­tentive,unhelpful,bookish,obsessive, uni­nvolving and unsatisfied made me realise how much I must have let you down. I sigh too much,I read too much,I'm so full full of sarcasm that I cannot take anything seriously, I never want to be the focus of attention,I never eat enough,I dont care about trends, I dont care if people comprehend me. I must be impossible to love. Thats why I have decided to never have children. They could never be what I would expect of them. I could never love someone who I was ultimately responsible for, someone who I could indoctrinate into my own idea of happiness.
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Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 2:53 PM UTC
Aspirations
I'm looking for a Neurotic Girl someone who will break down before I do someone who's not afraid to cry,as the tea kettle boils, after telling me about her problems. Someone I can worry about,and do unselfish things for, and offer some comfort to, someone who depends on me for a change. I'm looking for a girl who isn't too confident in herself,even though she's wonderful, at least in my eyes. Someone who hasn't got her entire life sorted out, just yet. Someone who'll realise that I can be a nice person, behind the facade. Because these days I'm wandering from party to party from pointless city centre venues and all-too-familiar and contemptible small town social haunts and all I see and hear are the attention-seeking, the unreachably friendly, the distant and the involved All swimming in mediocrity If you'll pardon the fake sophistication of that last metaphor And all I'm left to do is wonder what it would be like to find someone who I could be Introspective, Debauched and Nihilistic with A nice Neurotic Girl. But I suppose that would invariably lead to some sort of responsibility in my otherwise self-absorbed existence I would have to pretend that I am a proper kind of person for the sake of my fragile lover's much needed feeling of security I would take it upon myself to go out into the world to keep a sort of balance for the both of us spending headache-inducing hours with people whom I cant stand while she sits at home and smokes in bed.
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Apr 13, 2012
Apr 13, 2012 at 7:10 PM UTC
Neurotic Girl
Deep, somber, reflective pools. Stirring by an ocean of blueish gray. Vast as the mountain and all of its roots, Clear and deceptive as the piercing light on a cloudy day. Not flustered by the coming storm, But troubled instead when it is blown off its course and swept away. Unshaken by the torrential downpour of warming rain. For cool inside they will ever stay. Such pools as these are ripples away from some escape. Yet when all other pools would've walked away, They stir themselves and still remain. Fixed and introspective. Much like the tides which arrive anew with each coming day. These waters rise and though they reach, The wonder and bewilderment is never washed away. From within such pools.
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May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 8:55 PM UTC
Tide Pools
1700 To tell the Beauty would decrease To state the Spell demean— There is a syllable-less Sea Of which it is the sign— My will endeavors for its word And fails, but entertains A Rapture as of Legacies— Of introspective Mines—
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2.8k
To tell the Beauty would decrease
And I did it once again. Skin picked and shaven, Cakey frosted ivory, Faceless, nameless, Plasticity contusion. Littered in the detailed fractures of a swelling stem, Those skeletal twigs of intangible incestual wings, splintered in stacks underneath his bed. Apocalyptic comfort found in the veins of what remains... Pineal shame, Puny white me, Post-karmic, futuristic-retrospective cosmic plan, slowly creeps towards me and offers its long inflaming hand. Cricket twitch, echoes in the distant introspective glitch of my momentary intuition. A bitter drip on tongue descends, Tunneled in an unwanted exploration. That sour pitched cacophony uncomfortably sung, Through the ghastly cold touch of a righteous cockroached thumb. Repugnance, Spreading the stain of an untouched soul, Quicksand, morphing me into dust. Devouring the white and into the red I rust.
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Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
Repugnance
I am an escaped prisoner from barred disillusion, A personable recluse fighting the illusion Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion. I wonder how it is that I find optimism alone, When collective pessimistic thoughts condone The woeful tales that howl and moan. I hear voices of people that aren’t there, Yet find myself in calmness aware Despite their tormented accusational affair. I see ideals living and thriving out there Even when apathy or indifference ensnare Battered hearts and worn out minds in despair I want nothing more than to ‘want’ so desperately I hold onto desire so restlessly, That I’ve tired the being of my entity, I am an anomalous paradox captive to the sea Where waters churn in active disharmony, Yet comfort as it may my tranquility. I pretend that I’ve already staked my global legacy As if my words, thoughts, and feelings, Have changed the world entirely. I feel everything as I believe it should be, Riding the waves of intensity In emotionally humble serendipity, I touch the stars in remote prose, Wandering the vast expanses without close, Wherever my mind goes, it goes. I worry about the future of humanity, As if I was merely here to watch observantly From some unknown eternity. I cry for those in silent pain With fake smiles of disdain Who dare not speak for thought in vain. I am a quiet observer of the human condition Checking and balancing sedition Though never granting my submission. I understand the fallibility of the mind, Gathering as many perspectives I can find, Theorizing everything to which I’m inclined. I say it’s all relative but it’s all relevant Prone to be dominated by the prevalent Missing the subtleties that are heaven sent. I dream when I’m awake through my ideals, Even when they’re still just spinning wheels, Hoping they gain traction as time reveals. I try to be better than the day before, As that’s the best way to keep score, When the world has us compared to others so much more. I hope my legacy is genuine, I regret nothing even when I sin, As time wears down my wrinkled grin. I am only human, to live and to die, That’s about all we can be or rely, And honestly this notion breaths me a sigh.
0
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 5:11 PM UTC
I Am Poem
I am an escaped prisoner from barred disillusion, A personable recluse fighting the illusion Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion. I wonder how it is that I find optimism alone, When collective pessimistic thoughts condone The woeful tales that howl and moan. I hear voices of people that aren’t there, Yet find myself in calmness aware Despite their tormented accusational affair. I see ideals living and thriving out there Even when apathy or indifference ensnare Battered hearts and worn out minds in despair I want nothing more than to ‘want’ so desperately I hold onto desire so restlessly, That I’ve tired the being of my entity, I am an anomalous paradox captive to the sea Where waters churn in active disharmony, Yet comfort as it may my tranquility. I pretend that I’ve already staked my global legacy As if my words, thoughts, and feelings, Have changed the world entirely. I feel everything as I believe it should be, Riding the waves of intensity In emotionally humble serendipity, I touch the stars in remote prose, Wandering the vast expanses without close, Wherever my mind goes, it goes. I worry about the future of humanity, As if I was merely here to watch observantly From some unknown eternity. I cry for those in silent pain With fake smiles of disdain Who dare not speak for thought in vain. I am a quiet observer of the human condition Checking and balancing sedition Though never granting my submission. I understand the fallibility of the mind, Gathering as many perspectives I can find, Theorizing everything to which I’m inclined. I say it’s all relative but it’s all relevant Prone to be dominated by the prevalent Missing the subtleties that are heaven sent. I dream when I’m awake through my ideals, Even when they’re still just spinning wheels, Hoping they gain traction as time reveals. I try to be better than the day before, As that’s the best way to keep score, When the world has us compared to others so much more. I hope my legacy is genuine, I regret nothing even when I sin, As time wears down my wrinkled grin. I am only human, to live and to die, That’s about all we can be or rely, And honestly this notion breaths me a sigh.
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54
Self-awareness Personal doubt Intuition External guess Introspective Self-absorbed Outgoing Need for affection Fashionable Loves the mirror Casual Fears the mirror Honest Cruel friend Considerate Careful liar
0
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 2:13 AM UTC
What you see *What I think*
Writing because of procrastination, that is what I am telling myself. Writing because I have no other way to convey emotions, that is what I feel. Writing without a reason, that is what seems like the truth. I am lost again, stuck in a loop of what feels like clarity, into the same self-inflicted confusion. Wishing for the ability to make my words into music, I stare down at my keyboard and try to play. I know I wouldn't put in the effort to learn, but I just want to inspire myself. Maybe by some miracle I can learn what I am doing in time. For now I am mindless, only commands get me moving. Yet if they involve work I often zone out for minutes on end in thoughts that mean nothing. If only I knew all of you reading, if only I hadn't lost touch with the outside world to this mindless cycle that is the internet. Without the internet though, I wouldn't be able to convey my thoughts, all of my friends would be here. Hell, what friends would I have without the only place I can show who I am from so far away? Always introspective, trying my hardest to see what is wrong. People tell me I am fine, but at the same time, I am not content with who I am. I want to be older, stronger, able to do things without aide, and being there for those who need me. I feel unnoticed among my friends, and hailed as above others by my peers. The cycle makes me feel as though my peers think I need encouragement to live, while my friends know I just need the strength to push past it. That, or they don't care enough to ask, your friends are how you are in some ways I suppose. Why am I writing so much if I don't need it to get by, is there some other incentive I am giving myself? Some reward for not doing anything to change is letting me know about it? I think this is just my emotions trying to give my brain a kick-start, but I am tuning out the messages. I don't seem to care about some kind of structure in writing anymore, my care has bled out freezing me to a solid caricature of who I want to be. Do I even want to publish this, and have it be known to people that I am struggling? Whatever the case may be, I'll post it anyway, who really cares at this point?
0
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 7:44 PM UTC
Struggling With Care
Writing because of procrastination, that is what I am telling myself. Writing because I have no other way to convey emotions, that is what I feel. Writing without a reason, that is what seems like the truth. I am lost again, stuck in a loop of what feels like clarity, into the same self-inflicted confusion. Wishing for the ability to make my words into music, I stare down at my keyboard and try to play. I know I wouldn't put in the effort to learn, but I just want to inspire myself. Maybe by some miracle I can learn what I am doing in time. For now I am mindless, only commands get me moving. Yet if they involve work I often zone out for minutes on end in thoughts that mean nothing. If only I knew all of you reading, if only I hadn't lost touch with the outside world to this mindless cycle that is the internet. Without the internet though, I wouldn't be able to convey my thoughts, all of my friends would be here. Hell, what friends would I have without the only place I can show who I am from so far away? Always introspective, trying my hardest to see what is wrong. People tell me I am fine, but at the same time, I am not content with who I am. I want to be older, stronger, able to do things without aide, and being there for those who need me. I feel unnoticed among my friends, and hailed as above others by my peers. The cycle makes me feel as though my peers think I need encouragement to live, while my friends know I just need the strength to push past it. That, or they don't care enough to ask, your friends are how you are in some ways I suppose. Why am I writing so much if I don't need it to get by, is there some other incentive I am giving myself? Some reward for not doing anything to change is letting me know about it? I think this is just my emotions trying to give my brain a kick-start, but I am tuning out the messages. I don't seem to care about some kind of structure in writing anymore, my care has bled out freezing me to a solid caricature of who I want to be. Do I even want to publish this, and have it be known to people that I am struggling? Whatever the case may be, I'll post it anyway, who really cares at this point?
Continue reading...
24