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"judgmental" poems
When i was 13 I thought that gay and straight were things that other people were People that weren't raised christian People that didn't have dads People that were abused People that i should pray for but not get close to when i was 14 my best friend came out as gay i didn't see it coming but i probably should have she wore ties every day and plaid shirts with the sleeves rolled up and cut her hair short as soon as she could but i didn’t see it because gay was other people when i was 14 i watched as the news spread like wildfire “did you hear? that girl is gay.” I watched as people slowly backed away from her people that knew her all her life that is, the people that didn’t cut her off instantly I watched as the youth group we had both attended asked her to leave I watched as her drama group kicked her out because they were afraid of the yearly camp we went to that somehow knowing that she was gay made her more likely to attack the other girls in their beds than the year before I watched. I didn’t do anything. what changed my mind wasn’t a change of perspective on queer people it still took me a year to decide being gay wasn’t wrong but i decided that my best friend was someone i would stick with because i loved her I quietly stayed. didn’t make a fuss, didn’t call people out when they called her names behind her back. I should have. but i didn’t. I didn’t join in, but i didn’t defend her i didn’t say to these people **** you that girl is beautiful and amazing and if you can’t see through your hatred then i don’t want to be your friend either but i didn’t . I didn’t go through what she did. I didn’t get kicked out of anything, i didn’t lose friends When i was 15, i got fed up I left that drama group. I stopped going to that church. I stepped away from those friends and even though i never said why the look on my face when i ran into them and they asked, “how’s she doing?” answered that question for them. I spent 24 hours examining my bible trying to find the verses that say being gay is wrong there were barely any and they were right next to verses that said eating pork was wrong or planting crops next to each other or wearing two different fabrics there was my answer. this isn't a story of my journey. This isn't me building myself up “hey, I wasn't as bad as those other people I’m good now” this is a story of how one person can change your life forever if i didn't have a gay best friend what a way to start a story, huh? if i didn't have a gay best friend then I would still be there quietly praying for the sins of others, but not trying to understand so don’t look at all Christians and say they’re awful they’re bigoted they’re judgmental because we are but often it’s because we don’t know any better teaching us kindly works leading by example.
0
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 1:27 AM UTC
If I Didn't Have a Gay Best Friend
When i was 13 I thought that gay and straight were things that other people were People that weren't raised christian People that didn't have dads People that were abused People that i should pray for but not get close to when i was 14 my best friend came out as gay i didn't see it coming but i probably should have she wore ties every day and plaid shirts with the sleeves rolled up and cut her hair short as soon as she could but i didn’t see it because gay was other people when i was 14 i watched as the news spread like wildfire “did you hear? that girl is gay.” I watched as people slowly backed away from her people that knew her all her life that is, the people that didn’t cut her off instantly I watched as the youth group we had both attended asked her to leave I watched as her drama group kicked her out because they were afraid of the yearly camp we went to that somehow knowing that she was gay made her more likely to attack the other girls in their beds than the year before I watched. I didn’t do anything. what changed my mind wasn’t a change of perspective on queer people it still took me a year to decide being gay wasn’t wrong but i decided that my best friend was someone i would stick with because i loved her I quietly stayed. didn’t make a fuss, didn’t call people out when they called her names behind her back. I should have. but i didn’t. I didn’t join in, but i didn’t defend her i didn’t say to these people **** you that girl is beautiful and amazing and if you can’t see through your hatred then i don’t want to be your friend either but i didn’t . I didn’t go through what she did. I didn’t get kicked out of anything, i didn’t lose friends When i was 15, i got fed up I left that drama group. I stopped going to that church. I stepped away from those friends and even though i never said why the look on my face when i ran into them and they asked, “how’s she doing?” answered that question for them. I spent 24 hours examining my bible trying to find the verses that say being gay is wrong there were barely any and they were right next to verses that said eating pork was wrong or planting crops next to each other or wearing two different fabrics there was my answer. this isn't a story of my journey. This isn't me building myself up “hey, I wasn't as bad as those other people I’m good now” this is a story of how one person can change your life forever if i didn't have a gay best friend what a way to start a story, huh? if i didn't have a gay best friend then I would still be there quietly praying for the sins of others, but not trying to understand so don’t look at all Christians and say they’re awful they’re bigoted they’re judgmental because we are but often it’s because we don’t know any better teaching us kindly works leading by example.
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67
In Spanish, VIVIR means To Live, the proper conjugation of which to when you say something as improper as “I live” would simply be translated to “Yo Vivo”. I live, as a Colombian-American. I live, as “You don’t look Hispanic” I live, “Woah! You and your brother look nothing alike. You’re so… white.” I live, “My mom came home once and talked about a man who simply replied with a horribly pronounced “Me gusta” when my mom said she was Hispanic.” I live, “My dad condones abusive behavior because he thinks Latina aggression is **** I live, my mom asking me “Would you rather celebrate the Sweet Sixteen or have a quinceanera party?” I live, as the white boy sitting across the room in Spanish class asking “When will I need this in real life?” I live, as the “Yes I DO have a friend with a skin complexion similar to mine, and yes, he is Hispanic.” I live, most of my friends are beautiful people of color. I live, when will you open up the tab in Google and search some Hispanic History to fill your mind instead of “Latina **** I live, the messages on the Internet saying “You’re Hispanic? I bet you’re great in bed.” I live, there are NO gender neutral nouns in Spanish I live, yes I DO love coffee I live, no it did NOT stunt my growth I live, one kiss per cheek at family meet-ups I live, “Eskimo” nose rubs I live, "if you’re hispanic, why aren’t your ears pierced?" I live, being expected to remember Spanish just because it was my first language, but growing up with an American dad made me whiter than fresh bed-sheets sold in America, made in South America, Hecha en Peru. I live, my mom breaking into tears as she is so proud that I can sing in Spanish I live, my mom used to be so embarrassed, when I replied “un poco” to her friends asking “Tu Hablas Espanol?” I live, "if you’re Hispanic, is your mom an Alien?" I live, "But your dad looks so white!" I live, being subject to racism hidden in a joke, hidden in a remark about how pale I am, hidden behind a judgmental look, hidden behind a scoff, a laugh, a pity shrug, a fetishized assumption. I live the bulletproof clothing and horrible crimes I am warned about when I say I wanna go to Colombia I wanna go to my mom’s home. I live, as a Colombian-American. I live. Yo vivo.
0
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC
I live, Yo Vivo
In Spanish, VIVIR means To Live, the proper conjugation of which to when you say something as improper as “I live” would simply be translated to “Yo Vivo”. I live, as a Colombian-American. I live, as “You don’t look Hispanic” I live, “Woah! You and your brother look nothing alike. You’re so… white.” I live, “My mom came home once and talked about a man who simply replied with a horribly pronounced “Me gusta” when my mom said she was Hispanic.” I live, “My dad condones abusive behavior because he thinks Latina aggression is **** I live, my mom asking me “Would you rather celebrate the Sweet Sixteen or have a quinceanera party?” I live, as the white boy sitting across the room in Spanish class asking “When will I need this in real life?” I live, as the “Yes I DO have a friend with a skin complexion similar to mine, and yes, he is Hispanic.” I live, most of my friends are beautiful people of color. I live, when will you open up the tab in Google and search some Hispanic History to fill your mind instead of “Latina **** I live, the messages on the Internet saying “You’re Hispanic? I bet you’re great in bed.” I live, there are NO gender neutral nouns in Spanish I live, yes I DO love coffee I live, no it did NOT stunt my growth I live, one kiss per cheek at family meet-ups I live, “Eskimo” nose rubs I live, "if you’re hispanic, why aren’t your ears pierced?" I live, being expected to remember Spanish just because it was my first language, but growing up with an American dad made me whiter than fresh bed-sheets sold in America, made in South America, Hecha en Peru. I live, my mom breaking into tears as she is so proud that I can sing in Spanish I live, my mom used to be so embarrassed, when I replied “un poco” to her friends asking “Tu Hablas Espanol?” I live, "if you’re Hispanic, is your mom an Alien?" I live, "But your dad looks so white!" I live, being subject to racism hidden in a joke, hidden in a remark about how pale I am, hidden behind a judgmental look, hidden behind a scoff, a laugh, a pity shrug, a fetishized assumption. I live the bulletproof clothing and horrible crimes I am warned about when I say I wanna go to Colombia I wanna go to my mom’s home. I live, as a Colombian-American. I live. Yo vivo.
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28
A Friday night of imbued strangers Streets full of all walks of people Mostly staggered and tipsy Haggered and narrow minded As they sing the only one anthem of pumping  alcohol inside their veins A Friday night of rejection and temptation I couldn't give my cash to enter a joint Thoroughly rejecting a norm construct Unhumbled and judgmental As they sing the only one anthem of pumping  alcohol inside their veins A Friday night of inspiration and joy Where I saw a mirror of myself on the streets Vagabound souls sat begging for a today Justice and truth prevails As they sing the only one anthem of pumping  alcohol inside their veins A Friday night of me sat on the ground At the entrance of a busy closed shop Begging for the homeless soul as people sneer The abuse and hate ejected As they sing the only one anthem of pumping  alcohol inside their veins A Friday night of broken promises When all they do is try to have ****** People set traps of unfriendly gesture The rotten and pompous society As they sing the only one anthem of pumping  alcohol inside their veins A Friday night of me wooing the drunk Melodious symphony of "change please" Negativity beakers but we made money baibe A reflection of minimalism As they sing the only one anthem of pumping  alcohol inside their veins A Friday night of concluded perception Their souls touched me, they can go back a time They try but have no strength within Sour love was the wound that brought them hassle As they sing the only one anthem of pumping  alcohol inside their veins It's not a Friday night anymore, the dawn smiles I have a warm home and access to facilities They have no options and crack is their hope Police huddles and societal direct abuse As they sing a song for strangers to listen For your smile and talk can be the only hope they got
0
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 5:22 AM UTC
Friday Night Walking in Homeless Shoes
A Friday night of imbued strangers Streets full of all walks of people Mostly staggered and tipsy Haggered and narrow minded As they sing the only one anthem of pumping  alcohol inside their veins A Friday night of rejection and temptation I couldn't give my cash to enter a joint Thoroughly rejecting a norm construct Unhumbled and judgmental As they sing the only one anthem of pumping  alcohol inside their veins A Friday night of inspiration and joy Where I saw a mirror of myself on the streets Vagabound souls sat begging for a today Justice and truth prevails As they sing the only one anthem of pumping  alcohol inside their veins A Friday night of me sat on the ground At the entrance of a busy closed shop Begging for the homeless soul as people sneer The abuse and hate ejected As they sing the only one anthem of pumping  alcohol inside their veins A Friday night of broken promises When all they do is try to have ****** People set traps of unfriendly gesture The rotten and pompous society As they sing the only one anthem of pumping  alcohol inside their veins A Friday night of me wooing the drunk Melodious symphony of "change please" Negativity beakers but we made money baibe A reflection of minimalism As they sing the only one anthem of pumping  alcohol inside their veins A Friday night of concluded perception Their souls touched me, they can go back a time They try but have no strength within Sour love was the wound that brought them hassle As they sing the only one anthem of pumping  alcohol inside their veins It's not a Friday night anymore, the dawn smiles I have a warm home and access to facilities They have no options and crack is their hope Police huddles and societal direct abuse As they sing a song for strangers to listen For your smile and talk can be the only hope they got
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48
A chance All that I ask for is a chance A chance to meet and not divide We’ve played this game, Time and again And throughout it all we still remained friends But to write off someone based on what _you_ lack Is a sorry thing that you have a knack Of repeating again and again. I’m not begging for you to be chummy ole pals Only I plead for you to meet without a judgmental scowl. Though a childish endeavor I know it to be, For once I just wish You could see what I see. With out the taint of jealousy.
0
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 3:17 AM UTC
Childish Chance
a dark place, dingy and cobwebbed: the forlorn basement below an unfinished house; there is no hope of an HGTV house-flip or a makeover or the sort of boring/heartwarming story where some nice white family —or conveniently diverse— sets up shop, smash-cuts through a renovation and gets their dream home. no, the house will remain gloomy, this basement filled with emptiness; no one desires to come through the door, no one except the tweakers and the vagabonds and the runaways, the ****** and the pimps, the celebrities and psychiatrists, the demons and the ghosts, the preachers and their seething congregations of judgmental ****** that live across the street, and the ***** teenagers hunting for a place to try out *** no cleaning crew or maid service or organize-your-life guru or even the most experienced of all the world’s janitors could enter this house and clean it or beautify this basement or disenfranchise the squatters within; the neighbors just try and demolish it every chance they get, to rid their sparkling, spotless community of this disgusting eyesore.
0
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 10:15 AM UTC
the perfect neighborhood
Souls search for corresponding measures with gossamer vines through ether Trapped in corporeal form often drifting between the learner and the teacher Passing the souls mate yet missing the eyes of fate’s tomorrow Spending years or a lifetime without a match in loss and sorrow Souls never lost or seen in a colored perfectionist spectacle Yet still touch the heart and mind even though vestigial We cannot find the split soul’s half with judgmental eyes And if all we see is material, we may never hear a soul’s cries For the one that makes us whole often wears a disguise We are lucky enough to peer into the same blue skies So when you find your souls match, you will know in an instant You will feel like the sun, or at the very least like you just kissed it! Walking you into a warmth that is rarely ever seen You feel as though you lay on clouds, or lost in a pleasant dream
0
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC
Loves Unbreakable Bond
I don't have an issue with self confidence A repetitive lie I've begun to notice that I tell It's like the pain in my chest when I see other people's success compared to mine I ignore both When I read other writing I start out feeling so much inspiration Then I reflect back on my own and feel incompetent Because I can't write what they write I can feel what they feel through their words Something I wish I could accomplish It's jarring and frustrating I keep judging myself The very thing I've run from has become my life I can't escape the judgmental ways of this world not from my father not from my mother not from my brother, my sister, or anyone not even from myself Because like it or not, the judgment is me It's soaked into my veins Like an obsession, an addiction I wish I could pray it away, But I don't have any faith There is no God to save my soul To give me pity To take my sins away There is only scrutiny over my every move Whether it comes from within or someone else It's not something I can wash away with a prayer
0
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 2:09 AM UTC
Judgment
Judging faces Held back laughter All for A bubbly fangirl Why must they Be so cruel To a nervous girl I wish they understood *"What the **** Said another girl As I explained my thoughts About this judgmental world "It's just a tease" She said "She's used to it" She added But that's not the point I'm trying to convey Ugh They'll never understand anyway
0
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 5:27 AM UTC
An Opinion
I'm weighed down by their judgmental glances they're watching, judging me   from my colored hair to my ripped jeans the scars they caused litter my arms covered by bracelets I'm the outcast with a smile on my face a misfit of the ****** you beat me down leaving me in pieces one day our roles will reverse I'll be the bully you'll be the outcast
0
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
judgement
(Philosophy) There are two main emotions, love and fear. Love is understanding, and it gives us courage. Fear comes from the lack of understanding, and it makes us nervous/afraid. I learned that I used to seek love from people by wanting to control the way they perceive me. I wanted them to know that I could relate to, or understand them more than I may actually do. But, if I kept doing that, that would be foolish, no one understands another entirely, only through similar experiences, but never exact. It’s not fair to the individual. The goal isn’t just to connect with what’s similar, but also (maybe even more so) to connect with what’s different. People fear difference, because they don’t know what it may bring. That could be a result of society’s teachings for centuries. Racism wouldn’t exist if we as humans loved difference. Apparently we feel safe with what is familiar. Why “Curiosity killed the cat?” Why not “Curiosity isn’t a sin, but should be proceeded with caution.” Those who seek due to curiosity are open minded. Those who follow the ways of the world or rules are more judgmental once they spot something out of the ordinary. This is where insecurity comes from, because of this programming that if we are not the same, we should not belong. Saying “love yourself” almost limits you, that’s like saying the rest of the world is like this, but focus and ‘accept’ what you are. We shouldn’t just teach people to love themselves, what if that can be a side effect from teaching people how to love difference in others. We should say that every single individual has the power to contribute to improvement, expanding knowledge, and a way of living from the power that their own individuality brings. It’s not how we are similar. It’s how we are different.
0
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 2:44 AM UTC
Self-Love & Individuality
(Philosophy) There are two main emotions, love and fear. Love is understanding, and it gives us courage. Fear comes from the lack of understanding, and it makes us nervous/afraid. I learned that I used to seek love from people by wanting to control the way they perceive me. I wanted them to know that I could relate to, or understand them more than I may actually do. But, if I kept doing that, that would be foolish, no one understands another entirely, only through similar experiences, but never exact. It’s not fair to the individual. The goal isn’t just to connect with what’s similar, but also (maybe even more so) to connect with what’s different. People fear difference, because they don’t know what it may bring. That could be a result of society’s teachings for centuries. Racism wouldn’t exist if we as humans loved difference. Apparently we feel safe with what is familiar. Why “Curiosity killed the cat?” Why not “Curiosity isn’t a sin, but should be proceeded with caution.” Those who seek due to curiosity are open minded. Those who follow the ways of the world or rules are more judgmental once they spot something out of the ordinary. This is where insecurity comes from, because of this programming that if we are not the same, we should not belong. Saying “love yourself” almost limits you, that’s like saying the rest of the world is like this, but focus and ‘accept’ what you are. We shouldn’t just teach people to love themselves, what if that can be a side effect from teaching people how to love difference in others. We should say that every single individual has the power to contribute to improvement, expanding knowledge, and a way of living from the power that their own individuality brings. It’s not how we are similar. It’s how we are different.
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15
a man privately asks, can you help? you say, sure-no-hesitation let me think on it for a day or two, he says yet you act even before he comes back, too late, you say, when he returns, too late, he repeats in puzzlement, yup, my check is in the mail, cause one senses the need is dire plus, plus you well recall the immutable obligation when   a vague commitment of “just ask” was inked in a long ago message, a poem born from/in the days when you slept in the car on the street this vague promissory, a more enforceable judgement in your own court of law than any state construct or the judgmental eyes of a silenced god word, honor, do. thus it begins, an unwritten contract inked, an egregious interest rate of 0% proffered and agreed, commences a plain white envelope trickle, a check inside, by postal mail, slowly it came, month by month, inch by inch, Niagara Falls ^ years go by, and then comes a day, when the accompanying check and its gift wrapped note says, Paid In Full! and so much for the tedious minutiae... *like kindness, I do, Thank You and Your Welcome are high on my list of proofs of daily human extensions existential,* Paid in Full, *now rests at the top of the list let me be blunt, the thrill of being a party to a deal with no handshake, just coated in the honorable words waterproof sealant, with a person I likely may never meet, made me so better assured of whom many claim I am,   a mathematical proof revered and kept mind inscribed, it was an aspirational **** an unforeseen monthly blunt, the best feeling good smile, a kick in the pants about what really matters being paid twice over and me, getting by far, the humanity confirmation, the better half of the deal write too often of honor, and yet, will instinctual do again, again overpowering my rays of will, for there is no deflection, only reflection for the glorious riches gifted and received, without compare the return on my honorable investment the best ever* oh brotherhood, oh brotherhood, I am paid in the currency coined from brotherhood...
0
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 11:30 AM UTC
the brotherhood of paid in full
a man privately asks, can you help? you say, sure-no-hesitation let me think on it for a day or two, he says yet you act even before he comes back, too late, you say, when he returns, too late, he repeats in puzzlement, yup, my check is in the mail, cause one senses the need is dire plus, plus you well recall the immutable obligation when   a vague commitment of “just ask” was inked in a long ago message, a poem born from/in the days when you slept in the car on the street this vague promissory, a more enforceable judgement in your own court of law than any state construct or the judgmental eyes of a silenced god word, honor, do. thus it begins, an unwritten contract inked, an egregious interest rate of 0% proffered and agreed, commences a plain white envelope trickle, a check inside, by postal mail, slowly it came, month by month, inch by inch, Niagara Falls ^ years go by, and then comes a day, when the accompanying check and its gift wrapped note says, Paid In Full! and so much for the tedious minutiae... *like kindness, I do, Thank You and Your Welcome are high on my list of proofs of daily human extensions existential,* Paid in Full, *now rests at the top of the list let me be blunt, the thrill of being a party to a deal with no handshake, just coated in the honorable words waterproof sealant, with a person I likely may never meet, made me so better assured of whom many claim I am,   a mathematical proof revered and kept mind inscribed, it was an aspirational **** an unforeseen monthly blunt, the best feeling good smile, a kick in the pants about what really matters being paid twice over and me, getting by far, the humanity confirmation, the better half of the deal write too often of honor, and yet, will instinctual do again, again overpowering my rays of will, for there is no deflection, only reflection for the glorious riches gifted and received, without compare the return on my honorable investment the best ever* oh brotherhood, oh brotherhood, I am paid in the currency coined from brotherhood...
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52
Are acceptance and approval synonymous terms? It is important that we give adequate definition to that which blocks our winding garden path, where foxgloves, lupins and a multitude of botanical dreams can blossom into a gorgeous array of ****** captivation. If we embrace that which is repugnant, then possibility may not be confined to the cradling arms of the mistress of death. So, my judgmental and moralistic companion from the sands of Jupiter – if your daughter is a raunchy stripper, then keep your expectations on the leash and preserve your anthropological connectedness, otherwise you may veer into prickly thorns of certain detriment and thereby lose her attachments. It is incumbent upon us to nourish those fragrant plantations with a careful approach, so that beautiful reproductions will abound in a bouquet of resolution.
0
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
Floral Psychology
I've lived the kind of pain they write about In the tales of heroes,                        who came and went without Salvation or celebration; and,       instead, became close friends of doubt. When luck leaves your side, And there's no one left watching . . .                There is no martyrdom. No heaven to fall from. No damnation.                 Just *nothing.                 Nothing and no one*. But I won't let myself succumb To the temptation              of self-righteous certainty,              false justifications, or              egotistical self-mutilation - Just to bleed on those who lay              Below my lowly elevation.                      Not like you.                      I am not made like you. No longer, will I distort my own view To lie to the few, who stand with me in the fire.                It's true.                I am a worthless piece of ****                and even I can hardly stand it                when I speak about myself. But this time . . . It's about more than me. And, for once, I'm going to spend well the wealth, That I was given and didn't earn, On those who showed me how to learn                And to never become like you. Yes - I am judgmental and self-loathing. I am selfish and I am wrong. I am naive, and strung out and strung along.                                 But I                                   am not made                                              like you.                                              I am strong.
0
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 5:05 PM UTC
Self-Righteous Certainty and False Justifications
I've lived the kind of pain they write about In the tales of heroes,                        who came and went without Salvation or celebration; and,       instead, became close friends of doubt. When luck leaves your side, And there's no one left watching . . .                There is no martyrdom. No heaven to fall from. No damnation.                 Just *nothing.                 Nothing and no one*. But I won't let myself succumb To the temptation              of self-righteous certainty,              false justifications, or              egotistical self-mutilation - Just to bleed on those who lay              Below my lowly elevation.                      Not like you.                      I am not made like you. No longer, will I distort my own view To lie to the few, who stand with me in the fire.                It's true.                I am a worthless piece of ****                and even I can hardly stand it                when I speak about myself. But this time . . . It's about more than me. And, for once, I'm going to spend well the wealth, That I was given and didn't earn, On those who showed me how to learn                And to never become like you. Yes - I am judgmental and self-loathing. I am selfish and I am wrong. I am naive, and strung out and strung along.                                 But I                                   am not made                                              like you.                                              I am strong.
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40
To open the mind I light a candle To bring about change I open my heart To resolve my doubts I examine my own Judgmental contradictions Then and only then Does peace and tranquility Have a place to dwell...
0
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 11:02 AM UTC
THE CALMING
There's a comfort in being a doubter, To be swayed by passionate conviction As well as logical cognition, If nothing can be proven then how can that be confirmed? I am a doubter I live in dim-lit twilight of faith unknown, I doubt the doubter and all of faith Is doubt not too a faith to move nations? I am a doubter, an undecided, Hopeful, hateful, shameful, trustless Devoid, lacking any certainty Don't doubt me! I'm not weak, not mean, Not judgmental or hypocritical, Just so uncertain and conflicted— How can anyone believe In anything, at all?
0
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 5:34 PM UTC
Fruit of Doubt
I wish I wish he'd stop with the hitting'. Whenever he's present new bruises start burning'. I wish I wish she'd know of my burden. With monsters their presence I locked in a cavern. I wish I wish they'd hear me sighing. Judgmental minds present that keeps me from trying. And I wish I wish you'd see through this poem. Acknowledge my presence and tell me I'm mistaken. Because it's not. _______________________________________________________* Alternate ending: just for a laugh I wish I wish you'd read through my poems. Acknowledge my presence and perhaps, leave me a comment.
0
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
I wish I wish
The white squirrel runs free. Outcast for it difference. You know the story, it's all the same. We are all part of a huge unity. Refrain from your judgmental gazes of pain. Some just want to see the world burn, mutiny of humanity.Release the sophisticated animal within the. for every beast will get its turn. The white deer in its symbol for purity is hobbling. Sadly our symbols die. lie on barren plans. questioning sanity,insane, Refrain from your judgmental gaze, try to heal the pain.The dog has it's bite, and the bee its sting. the song birds still sing. I see ******* kindness in a forest of forgotten memories the vast vivid wilderness of pain, is the same as the one filled with such beautiful things. run free in your unified difference. notice the worlds significance. and all the energy it aims at your brain.
0
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 7:19 PM UTC
Your Indifference
Oh Allah ! In this coming, spiritual month of Ramadan- I plead for forgiveness, I ask from you to cleanse our souls, Forgive us all, For we have sinned, We are frail by heart, We are liars and judgmental, Oh Allah ! My eyes shed tears for all of this human race, All those who have passed away, For people who are still here, And for those who have lost their strength, I pray for all these people, For their forgiveness, for their health, I ask for your help, Oh Allah ! To you we all shall return, We are your disciples Almighty Allah, And I ask from you to lead us to the right path, We are your creation, We have erred and ask for forgiveness, How guilty are we and how we've fallen in abyss, Please listen to our prayers and let us taste the essence of a heavenly afterlife.
0
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 10:21 AM UTC
Oh Allah !
* Sometimes being alone is much better than in the crowd of judgmental tongue. * © Pax
0
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 4:57 AM UTC
judgmental tongue
a small baby blue room, hanging christmas lights all aglow  windows swirl with patterns of ice cold, frost. snow outside but inside,  we are one. lost, hidden by blankets  legs intertwined and my arms thrown around your neck   the buzz of the heater keeping me up all of last night but tonight I drift away so quickly,  like a child asleep in your arms but I awake, because I miss you  and I want to be with you. the radio is ours and every song on it reminds me of you  somehow ours eyes meet,  and it doesn't make us awkward or shy  or embarrassed  because it's just us and our glances, and we aren't judgmental people       so I let you stare  because I want to stare too because you have so much  a story inside those eyes music in the background,     abruptly we pause,  just to listen for a moment  only a moment,  and it passes; it was lovely     I press myself closer,  because I want to share your warmth  I kiss you,     because I love you  and it comes naturally as easy as breathing  only easier  so I guess we lay here,  because we don't have the heart to move, and I won't let you       because I'm happy and I think,  I think I like being                                 happy
0
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 8:59 PM UTC
happy
The heavy girls are too heavy The skinny girls are too thin The **** is perfect The nerd is a try hard The fangirl is a freak The fanboy is gay The goth girl is a ***** The goth boy is insane The person who asked for help today just needed a person to talk with But in today's society we only follow hate and gossip That skinny girl can't gain wait That fat girl doesn't know what to do That **** maybe varsity but he's got problems too The nerd is poor and wants to go to college and the only way to do that is through a scholarship The fangirl lives in a fictional world because of the judgmental people in her own The fanboy does the same and it doesn't matter wheather or not he is straight or gay The goth girl isn't a ***** she just listens to her music and wears black The goth boy isn't insane he just wants his happy life back The person who asked for help today really did need it But now it's too late for her and now her death has been completed All of these people could be good or bad but you will never know that Because in today's society we only follow hate a gossip So the next time you see a strangers face Go on say hi and see what they say Some might stick their noses up and walk away But for others a stranger being friendly just might make their day.
0
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 1:03 PM UTC
Hate
Western dental trys to be gentle. By acting sentimental. I am too judgmental. It's just coincidental. My teeth are not expertimental. That's typical. What's the hype? It's all stereotype. Don't just let me laugh on your behalf. Your dental staff isn't worth half. See I will make a graph. Your payroll is down the hole. Try to focus & maintain control of your objective goal. Your career is over this year. I am. Sincere is that all you fear?
0
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
The Dentist
Once again feeling lost and so alone Time has passed and I thought I had only grown I can't escape the past that seems to haunt my soul I can't find a better half that completes me and makes me whole It's just me, myself and I, trying to make it in a cold world People looking down on me thinking I'm just an ignorant little girl Everyone so judgmental because of all the lies you told This feeling of being worthless I can't shake off and it's getting old Let's make it clear I didn't steal from you, that's not how I spend my time I simply just took back what was already mine So stomp on me and try to dispose of the person I am inside It's only going to make me ignite my flame and I'm going to shine Bring light to the evil coldness of your frozen heart Keep trying, I'm binding myself and all the pieces because I won't stay torn apart I can fix myself and the damage you've done within I'm a fighter and I'll keep on fighting because I know I have to win I need to be myself, all of the beauty and darkness that I am will stay til there til the end I'm in the world to make my mark and I can do without a friend In pieces now but with just myself, the only one I trust I can handle the reconstruction For I am not a daughter a sister a niece or a cousin, I'm simply the product of reproduction
0
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
I'm simply the product of reproduction
(this one is about a piece of cloth) The said attire is not common wear no suit and tie or gown needing no further introductions or additional instructions Its layers are abstruse It is of certain quality of tension resembling clumsy bodies trying to meet and greet each other   talk about belonging to someone   Reserved and refined restricted they cannot rewind Ornamental is what they are And you          you are judgmental  Ready to look at the attire again? One layer got lit by a precedent match which led to an arson you could not even start that with the fire you drew up your leg Everyone is promised to someone who lives in another country, and will break their heart and turn them into a pillar of salt for looking back to the tragedy Forever drawn too impulsively to those Daria is not supposed to look at She touches them as often as possible Only few times she's been able stop   Those times retain a repetitive pulse, same in its essence but, alternating on the patters and pace I can see you are listening to me right now, I  should probably want that Listening is a beautiful thing, a blessing in disguise and acting on the details of your acoustic research  is a physical translation of affection Tell me that you are not unable to translate I at least need to feel you again Laugh at you even though our situation is dead serious I scrutinize the piece of cloth for any signs of damage You see I wouldn't want it to get ripped off anytime soon Although I'd gladly tear off the rest of your clothes next time I see you
0
Apr 14, 2022
Apr 14, 2022 at 6:23 AM UTC
a pilar of salt
(this one is about a piece of cloth) The said attire is not common wear no suit and tie or gown needing no further introductions or additional instructions Its layers are abstruse It is of certain quality of tension resembling clumsy bodies trying to meet and greet each other   talk about belonging to someone   Reserved and refined restricted they cannot rewind Ornamental is what they are And you          you are judgmental  Ready to look at the attire again? One layer got lit by a precedent match which led to an arson you could not even start that with the fire you drew up your leg Everyone is promised to someone who lives in another country, and will break their heart and turn them into a pillar of salt for looking back to the tragedy Forever drawn too impulsively to those Daria is not supposed to look at She touches them as often as possible Only few times she's been able stop   Those times retain a repetitive pulse, same in its essence but, alternating on the patters and pace I can see you are listening to me right now, I  should probably want that Listening is a beautiful thing, a blessing in disguise and acting on the details of your acoustic research  is a physical translation of affection Tell me that you are not unable to translate I at least need to feel you again Laugh at you even though our situation is dead serious I scrutinize the piece of cloth for any signs of damage You see I wouldn't want it to get ripped off anytime soon Although I'd gladly tear off the rest of your clothes next time I see you
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