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ThePoet Mar 2016
Who are we to say,
that a love is not to be?
That a love does not belong,
and can never be set free?

Who are we to think,
that a kind is not our people?
That a kind is far beneath us,
and will never be as equal?

Who are we to feel,
that a face can look unusual?
That a face must be a canvas,
and be painted to be beautiful?

Who are we to judge?
To say love is prohibited?
To think below of others?  
To feel minds can be limited?
The way that people think sometimes makes me sick
The way we criticize so hard and judge so quick
Before you judge me look in the mirror
All of the sudden things become much clearer.

You just see face and the hair, lips and the eyes
But I know all your secrets and I know your lies
If you look closer you will see
That deep down you’re no better than me.

I see past the make up for what you really are
Just a regular person covering a scar
Hidden in your mind, a place you don’t go
Memories and things you’d rather people don’t know.

We all have those secrets buried deep inside
Things that we’d do almost anything to hide,
We try to cover with makeup clothes and that certain grace
But when you look in the mirror it’s staring you in the face.

You can put on the act and the makeup too
But I can see right through you,
You’re just another girl wanting to be accepted
Fearing the burn of being rejected
Falling into the trap of mindless trends
Just envied by your friends
Thinking that once you got it then you’re in
But you still feel the emptiness from within.

So foolish so blind people can be
Take off those colored contacts and you’ll see.
If you could see me now,
huddled up
on this bathroom floor
like the wet towel in the corner,
a most-likely-used toilet brush
covered in
ash & hair
is the next closest thing
in arm's reach
to a real statement.

You want to know what it's about?
You do not want to know what it's about.

To dunk those
pearly whiteheads
in oil and expect
whiter pearls
would just be silly.

Take the bedazzlings from their feet
and what is left to judge
that which they do not want to know?
for all the donors & gatekeepers
Andje Feb 2018
You got nothing more than your eyes
And your sharp tongue
I got so many questions and you
Got no time anymore

I’ve seen the pictures of all that you lost
Every color was screaming your name
And there’s nowhere you are
You walk with shut eyes
You run you come back
Till the end of the world

Things that never fall
Things that cannot change
You want me to laugh and
You’re making me cry

Things that never fall
Things that cannot change
You want me to laugh and
You’re making me cry
Nat Lipstadt Mar 14
“Who will judge, as many trudge
through mud, mucking up the rug,
a coating of clay formed by God on a particular day.
Yet talent is ingrained, whether sane or insane,
and verse is treasure or a curse, unrehearsed, dispersed for all to see,
will they applaud or disparage, this marriage of mind and rhyme,
by design aligned, a sign of the times...”

ms. patty m*

once again a thunderbolt command hits between the eyes, on-right
the precise spot where the head aches with desire to fulfill the write!
but to what can I add to this encompassing question already
better answered by the questioner?

who will judge indeed!

all the time and far too often,
the flotsam rises to the surface, when better left ignored,
while the jetsam jets nowhere, buried deep though breathing yet,
on unseen sea bottom of ignorance,
luck of the draw by one who designs, who aligns,
a capricious starscape in the firmament
as well as
the infirmity & ignominy of caskets lying quiet in sea trenches

that the answer herein contained, a supposition,
a poor poets speculation, a soul’s lactation,
the very question is a cyclone bomb by competents
who are blinded+bound+blessed by

the only judge and jury is
your forefingers tip,
if it tremble a-slight
when caressing the key called send,
your cellular fiber
has adjudged worthy,
and no dare disagree

talent and distinction
randomly and irrationally distributed,
but the courageous caress of a send key pressed,
is all that is needed
to impress the only judge and jury
authorized you
in advance to
love yourself insanely well enough
to write
to send for
a request for sentencing
Thursday March 14, 2019 10:51am

N.B. as I said,
patty m asked and answered it bestie better
Kim Essary Aug 2018
The image of beauty is what our eyes see, however the arrainment of truth comes from within.
We can makeup our face and wear perfect attire,
At the end of the day it's a pure heart you desire.
The rose of so many colors  so beautiful to the eyes
As you reach down to touch  it,  beauty is it's disguise .
Covered down it's long sleek stem, sharp thorns await your touch.
Things and people of this world aren't always as they appear as you see the rose is to your touch.
As we read our children a fairytale , painting a picture as this,
Once upon a time, not long ago, was once or never to be.
Though we painted their eyes a picture of what we wanted them to see.
Our choice of reading how is it we make our choice, seemingly from the title , the cover of the book is most.
It's not until we go beyond what our eyes can see that we decide our interest in what we read. So you see , the rose of beautiful colors , the fairy tales of whats not will ever be , the book you judge by it's cover, until you look inside , beyond what your eyes can see, you never know the truth of the beauty from within .
Simple truth of the saying never judge a book by it's cover, the same message applies to everything
Eleni Jul 2017
'Are you pleasing those Lions?'

She thinks to herself under Nelson's Column.

'I am no hero of the Nile, nor of Trafalgar. I am an empty vessel.'

City of Angels, yet full of devils. Will she find the exit from Oblivion, in those molten, vermillion revels?

'And will you climb that stairway to heaven? Is it true that what glitters is gold?'

That golden dust, which lies on her beside table, sedative for her sorrows.

'Oh he was a foul coxcomb. England expects every heart will follow its duty!'

She is followed, by those feral eyes;
Those on the underground, those in the streets

And those who she will wish
her eyes will never meet.
This short poem was partially inspired by one of my favourite songs from The Doors called 'Hyacinth House' whereby Jim Morrison expresses loneliness and the nature of being judged by others based on careers, personalities and relationships. I combined this with the strong presence of the lions in Trafalgar Square in London, which have a intimidating appearance and represent the strength of the British Empire. These eyes of judgement seem to pierce through the speaker in this poem who is being criticised by the personified statues for being unworthy of recognition.
Gods1son Jan 16
Take off your robe and wig
And quit being a Judge
The person you are judging
Is at the peak of his battles

His guns are running out of bullets
He's losing it already
Your words and actions are missiles
You could be on his team,
Instead of aiming at him

Stop pressuring him
You are taking camouflage off his face
You have no idea what he's going through
The least you could do is let him be.
Priyam May 23
Welcome to our society
Where we live in anxiety
They will judge you for being drunk
And some will for your sobriety
The lowlifes that inhibit it
Come in all varieties
They divide you in the name of religion
To pray the same deity
So I welcome you all to our society
Where we live in anxiety
Bullet Nov 2018
Place me seated with a placemat
Waters on both sides spring
Conversations of leaves fallen
Color separated between the lines

The way women n' men view
Didn't want anything on the menu
Spilt Motz sticks n' fries
Paid Plate $7.88

Birthday had to tell you ways
Things like not everything is okay
Head space is telling everyone is against me
Had to bring you on a filtered level

Room full of people
Chilling at Denny's
Judge for a shared plate
But thoughts only hit the door
When you point at something you don't get

Judgement try to enclose your mind
Night try to eclipse me from time
Was judge for sharing a plate of food at Denny's made me look at life like not everything we do is okay or set at a certain kind of standard.
Jovanni Oct 2018
Unexplained rivals and verbal confrontations
first contact as opponents and second as curious strangers
exchanging smiles and bewitchingly smitten by the lock of our eyes.

Equally being matched as conversations proceed
Are you friend or foe?

Tell me, how shall I judge you? Or shall I not judge at all?

Many mistakes were made by judgements and lessons learned,
Life would be so simple if we forgive and forget,
Yet many don't do as we do
SøułSurvivør Feb 2015

I used to think men
should be more like books
Both you cannot
judge by looks...

If I didn't want to finish reading
I put it down... no heart was bleeding

A book will never fuss or fight
It will stay with you
through the night...

It doesn't smoke. It doesn't drink.
It won't leave toothpaste
in the sink!

It doesn't binge... it don't eat...
It won't leave up the toilet seat!

It don't forget. It doesn't mope.
It won't hog the TV remote!

It doesn't have to have
The last say...
It doesn't have legs

to walk away.

But it's not soft. It isn't warm.
It doesn't keep you
safe from harm.

Even though it makes no fuss
It can't think. It can't discuss.

Even though it has its charms
it can't hold you in its arms.

It doesn't pine. It doesn't miss.
It can't hug and it can't kiss.

So now I think on it again...
... I think BOOKS should be
             more like MEN!!!

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