"invalidating" poems
suicide
I've thought about it.
we all have in different ways
some of us wonder why
some of us wonder if we should
some of us attempt and some of us do
suicide
am I really the selfish one?
I just want this ******* pain and loneliness to end?
maybe you're selfish because you want me to go on so YOU don't have to feel the pain
suicide
how often do you call your friends and loved ones? do they call you?
you can have friends and feel alone if you're the one who's always reaching out. maybe they'd call if they really knew. maybe they'd ignore you cause your sadness makes them uncomfortable.
suicide
it sure can look tempting when you feel all alone,
unwanted
undesireable
like you don't belong and never will
suicide
maybe if we reached out more, tried to understand instead of shaming, ignoring or invalidating pain and struggles
maybe we could prevent
suicide
Jul 5, 2023
Jul 5, 2023 at 9:00 PM UTC
Oh' if I could speak the language of his atraction
With a generosity of exchange in bounteous metaphors
Yes and let him be the quality of my oppression
For there is a torture about my words when put to voice
They search for plausible reasons as is such cannot be found
And yet I have a trouble governing my generous impulses
Oh' the inaudible corruption that is my mind, hoping, wishing
Begging for a prosperity of possibilities that will vanquish tears
That I with moral perspectives should bind a mutuality between us
Invalidating my inadequacies thus find a resolution not in artiface
But in a charmed and beautiful way that shall be the essence of love
Without a prodigality of thought, but each for each, in solemnity of kiss
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 2:24 PM UTC
Lauryn Hill is going to jail for not paying her taxes,
a fate that would surely befall us all if caught.
She argued to the judge that since her ancestors
were slaves, our economic system was imposed
on her against her will, invalidating her burden.
Pay your ******* taxes, you ignorant bigot.
When your ancestors started making money,
they started owing taxes. This is a feature of
society called "equality."
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
The first power of the Sphinx
is Knowledge.
*Science, philosophy, and religion
are the Holy Trinity;
once a singular discipline,
broken today into Three
over differences in
epistemology:*
the First is a narrow window
into empirical space;
the Following a flexible framework
in conceptual space;
the Final, all-encompassing
on the stage of the soul;
neither invalidating
nor undermining each other,
but Checking and Balancing.
Facts are interpretations;
theories are stories;
storytelling, myth;
myth, the key to Knowledge.
To Know is to conceive.
To conceive is to objectify,
but far from objective:
We understand
what we invent.
*"All things are Known.
What shall we do
with what we Know?"* ¬
When curiosity is not slain,
but permitted in the vacuum
of the eternal Question,
Then are the journey
and the journeyer
initiated.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
The moon's glow holds nothing special tonight,
As someone so brilliant glimmers before my eyes.
It is captivating the way green eyes sparkle in moonlight,
The way rosy lips lightly release quiet sighs.
I am transported to other places, when there I gaze,
And you remain at my side wherever I roam.
You peel away the pain that has lingered like a haze,
Deciding that you will never leave me alone.
And on quiet nights, when there are no sounds in the air,
My mind wanders to the holder of my love.
Ponders green eyes that mesmerize as they stare,
Invalidating the glowing moon above.
I close my eyes on those quiet nights, and you appear,
Existing beside me to calm my shaking form.
Your embrace vanquishing my fear,
Calming this tumultuous storm.
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 10:48 PM UTC
i'm sorry
that i don't fit
your definition of male.
i'm sorry
i don't have testosterone
running rampant in my veins
i'm sorry
i don't have a bulge
like the mound on a hill
i'm sorry
i don't have a flat chest
acceptable enough to expose in the summer
i'm sorry
you can't begin to understand my heart
before judging my body.
i'm sorry
you were raised to define a man
by what's in his pants.
i'm sorry
you would rather spend your life
invalidating me
and so many others
than open the doors
that beg for a chance
but i
am just as much of a man
as the next guy.
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 2:22 PM UTC
I would sell myself a bill of goods
Before I would ever inveigh
The babble
That some-have the chutz-puh
To accept as some obscure
Personal quest
That they must compel
Themselves to fulfill
As the Tower Of Babel was
To the intrangient zealots
As they go about
Invoking invidiousness
Binging on the intoxicating inversion
Of partisan opinionativeness
Quoting as they go
"Do unto me not as I do unto you"
When... In a chronometric second
Any possible bipartisan thoughts
That they may truly possess
Has passed through their cinderblock brain
Like the ray of light
On a birefringent trajectory
Unable to acknowledge or accept either one
As the refracting action
Accentuates the intolerance
Invalidating them for
The total lack
Of introspection
Resulting from the
Total absence
Of any biological binder
That on any level would ever
Allow even the slightest sprig
Of libertarian thought
To escape deracination
Slamming the lid tightly
In hopes that noone would see
The dividends that grow from
The derivation as a desideratum
People who can't see it
Personally.... I don't need em.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 2:57 AM UTC
but sometimes i get sick of it all -
fighting
trying
i'm just done with trying
to get people to listen
instead of invalidating
my opinions even before
they actually hear me out
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
When it rains
I count the little droplets on the window
I avoid the cold black widow
As it hangs high at the ceiling
It gives me an odd feeling
A feeling that makes me wish
That even if I'm rich
Death would be my escape
From a world
Hollow and *****
From a vision
Of pure and total hate
Why do these people hate me
Why do they hurt and interrogate me
Asking unspoken questions
Looking for unknown answers
Invalidating my prestige
Through intolerably hateful banter
Yes
I see this
And feel the pulsing of my veins
Yes
I see this
Every time it rains
Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 2:05 AM UTC
I look back at all I wrote about the boy who played baseball. Who had three dogs, now four. Who was the only boy out of four sisters. Who says "God isn't real" because he lost his dad at age 12. Who was so handsome.
We've been apart for a year or so and I couldn't be happier. I hope he's happy too. He's in college now, the college I'm going to in August; funny how things work out.
But I don't miss him. I haven't missed him in a long, long time.
I remember when I thought that I loved him. That he was the one. That because he told me we were going to get married one day, that actually were.
I never loved him the way you love the one. But I did love him, in a way. I don't regret him breaking up with me. I only regret telling him "it's okay" through choked sobs and invalidating my feelings. I regret hating him for so long for breaking my heart then trying to date one of my best friends not even three months later.
I shouldn't have been mad, not really.
But now, since the summer, I realized what I had been missing for years. That my best friend---funny, strange, sweet, blonde mop top---was the one I'm supposed to be with. Maybe I'm being naive and getting ahead of myself, thinking that he is the one. Maybe I too easily think people are the one. But this love I have never experienced before, and it's so magical.
Maybe this one will end up in flames like every other one.
Maybe this one will end up with a queen sized mattress and sweet ********** in mid-morning.
I can't see the future, but God, I wish I would have stopped ******* around and asked him out years ago. Instead of dancing around each other; snuggling, holding hands, napping together, for years. Knowing that I liked him, but was too afraid to act.
I was so dumb.
I am still so dumb.
But I couldn't be happier with how life is right now.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 4:55 PM UTC
In a world far far away from ours, I like to envision the people there. The beings, there. How they feel things, if at all. And how they express themselves. If they feel what’s right and what’s wrong, or if they know what forgiveness is, or if they even have a need for it. And if they do, how is it painted across their faces? Is it ugly? Or is it understood?
If they are able to understand the forgiveness, how do they express it? Through words, actions, being quiet, or taking no action at all? And if so, how stagnant does their love become once the ugliness of their forgiveness becomes quiet as snow?
Or maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe they have no desire for forgiveness because their wrongs don’t amount to rights, or their rights to their wrongs. How beautiful must that feel? What we all would give to feel flawless inside of our morals, never taking for granted the misery we fill ourselves up with just by misunderstanding forgiveness.
In that world so far, far away, how are apologies painted? Or have they all collectively come to the conclusion that they should not need to apologize for the space between our worlds, and we should not need to forgive them for it, simply because it was created that way.
It feels so immeasurably invalidating to confront the fact that we are as simple as children until the day that we die, and every day until then, we dress up in our suits and ties and parade the idea of forgiveness,
just hoping that we can become a martyr for it.
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 4:49 AM UTC
I wrote it on my wrists one year
and then again in the powder of pain pills.
and once more inside bottles
of dark whiskey that made me forget.
Since then I have not been close to a knife
without it feeling too heavy.
Since then I have not been
able to stomach medicine.
Since then the alcohol doesn’t
go down the same.
Just makes my eyes ache
and my chest feel heavy
the intoxication isn’t fun anymore.
just a warm nostalgia
of why I started it in the first place
Even upon running away
I am reminded of it.
Even upon coping
I am reminded of it.
In the steady up and down of my breathing-
I hear yours in my ear.
In the weight of cloth upon my skin I feel them there.
So what am I to do?
When you still ruin me
from the inside.
What am I to do?
When my own father
is invalidating at every corner.
What am I to ******* do
When his Facebook comments
are thrown into my face
as he uses the word “molestation” as an insult
as something I should be ashamed of
as something that doesn’t happen but only to deface men.
What am I do to do?
When around every corner
I am reminded of what they’ve done to me?
I. Keep. ******* Walking.
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 9:27 AM UTC
You can’t gloss over it because the hurt spreads too deep. You try so hard to express your truth yet your cries for help are branded as ignorant, everything you say is rebuffed and rejected.
Your loneliness doesn’t meet the standard of everybody else, theirs can be expressed but yours is suppressed. Your sadness falls flat because it ain’t that serious for you to be stressing about or lingering over.
If your mind doesn’t **** you fast enough opening up will, you can’t look for help where your feelings don’t hold weight. Why seek comfort from people who’d rather watch you drown than dry your tears?
How you cope may not be the solution, yet their passing judgement and distant attitude leaves you out in the cold so rather than smoothly detaching from the distress and seeking to heal the struggle of knowing your emotions are like waste irrelevant, invalidating and an inconvenience.
Whether they meant the hurt or not we all know when you say what you say in anger or serenity it can’t be taken back, & just like that, a broken record is birthed and then constantly played. Coping is to keep pushing aside life’s woes until you break again, not having the strength to face it head on you just bury your head in the sand.
Sep 15, 2022
Sep 15, 2022 at 8:50 AM UTC
Deadly to creativity,
paralyzing joy,
invalidating beauty,
Denial of Essence
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 8:06 AM UTC
I see overreaction
You see red
You see: "you've broken a promise, watched it with
another boy"
I see: "I was lonely and wanted to watch
a movie we'd planned to watch together on my couch"
I see: turn over and slowly drift to sleep
with my love by my side
You see: you're being distant, now I feel alone
and hurt
You see: I smoked without him Thursday night,
that's so disrespectful of me
I see: you enjoying time with friends while I need
a night in alone
I see: you walk out of the galleria after saying
cattily: "I'll take those keys now"
You see: me hurting you, being inconsiderate, invalidating
your feelings
You see: the silent treatment
I see: you slowly inch away from me with each
passerby
I see: myself trying to understand why you feel so
intensely about this, why you believe me (by some default setting)
to be driven by self-interest; general inconsideration
You see: me invalidating you
You see: me as someone who can't see what I contribute
to the struggle
I see: you continue to question my awareness and intent
I see: clarifying questions, then my own defensiveness
because I am being accused of intent I never had
You see: your feelings invalidated and me being
defensive
I see: you assuming the worst
You see: what you want to see
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC
Please don’t beat me up.
While you are entitled to feel however you're gonna feel,
you don't get to beat me up because you've decided that
I came for you with malintent when I didn't.
I come from a place of love.
I'm intentional about my words,
tone and intent.
I am aware.
Give me grace.
Give me the benefit of the doubt.
Understand your past, present.
Understand mine.
If I say something that has upset you,
just because you feel I am being judgmental,
doesn’t mean that I am being judgmental.
Our feelings and reactions do not
necessarily (and often are not)
accurate depictions of reality.
That's how you feel.
Figure out whatever it is that
has you feeling hurt.
It probably has more
to do with you than it does with me.
When I defend myself from accusations,
it’s because I know my own heart. And
I want to protect it.
When I defend myself from accusations,
I am not invalidating your feelings.
Feel the **** outta your feelings.
Just,
please don’t beat me up.
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 8:50 PM UTC
you say you have all the answers
that you had all the right reasons
to leave me stranded
that you had no choice
maybe even that it was all me
that it was all my fault
but you don't know ****
you just want to validate
yourself for invalidating me
you just want to prove
that in this struggle for love
you were the victim
but you don't know ****
victims aren't the ones walking away
or the ones behind the bullet
or words
victims don't play with feelings
victims don't break hearts or **** souls
your only answer is to prove
how you had your reasons
but your reasons don't justify
a ****** of sorts
or playing me and leaving me to die
or telling me you love me
only to prove it a lie
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 12:21 PM UTC
at this very moment i've accepted
love can beautify so many pains
invalidating feelings
shredding in silence of my being
it isn't always the romance on different pages
yet the denial i've finally learnt
heartbreaks can also come from parents.
Oct 6, 2020
Oct 6, 2020 at 10:29 AM UTC