"justifications" poems
Put your head down
and werk.
Put your feet up
and twerk.
Run quickly
and watch the
pavement blur.
Don't ask questions.
Love you answers,
and explanations,
your valuations,
and justifications.
In the mood for pizza?
Cause the shop's on your left.
In 0.5 miles, it will be on your left.
ON YOUR LEFT.
YOUR DESTINATION IS ON THE LEFT.
Rerouting...
the protocol is exactly THIS,
not THAT.
So just do it.
checkmark.
Nike said so.
Just buy it.
we suggest it.
Just try the Quesarilla
#tacobell #mexicanfood #foodporn
#pleasegetmemoreviews
How bout a selfie
where you look miserable
and unhealthy.
But you're a celebrity.
Rub your likeness
on me and
I'll get you publicity.
#fire
#ice
#rain
What happened to real pain?
And did dissonance disappear?
Why must I hide my tears?
And be bright and happy
And ogle guys with fohawks
trimmed so carefully.
And live a lie,
of numbers and rye
bread is the worst,
sandwiched in bursts.
We all live
and we all hurt
and we all deserve
a life like hers.
who you say?
Kim Kardashian,
of course.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 12:08 AM UTC
Its like when you hold a new puppy
You can tell it is squirming
Wishing for the freedom to go play
It isn’t that you wouldn’t let the puppy go
If it really wanted to be let go...
But you blind yourself with infinite and simultaneous
Justifications of other possible portents
And so you cling
ever tighter
Saying puppy sit still
“Puppy I love you”
And when the puppy finally learns it cannot struggle anymore
You profess
True Love!
Jul 24, 2010
Jul 24, 2010 at 10:07 AM UTC
*a child is born free of mind
but is hardened into thought
and by the time one dies
most are fixed and ******* into
worlds of their making,
heavens of their fantasies*
so one thinks one's an Indian, one a Chinese
or an American or British or Swedish
or French or Russian or German;
or one thinks one is a Christian or Muslim
or Jew or Hindu or Sikh or Catholic
or Doaist or Buddhist or Marxist or Communist
or even for that matter, an atheist
- or whatever you will...
one finds a badge to pin proudly to one's chest
and each identity becomes so strong
it becomes so real
it all comes into the question of right and wrong
of evil and good
and it falls into loud declamations
and my tribe is good, your tribe is evil
my brand is holy, your brand unholy...
and so it goes,
with all sorts of justifications
that beat sense out of all loyal adherents
and it squeezes humanity out of the human
as paste out of a tube...
ah, and yes,
the energy goes on into the afterlife
as Christians go into a Christian Heaven
and Hindus and Buddhists into various Lokas
and Muslims in their own Paradise
and so it goes on,
this Human Tragi-Comedy,
yes, yes, certainly all created by the Almighty
who was created by your mind's poverty
so that
a child is born free of mind
but is hardened into thought
and by the time one dies
most are fixed and ******* into
worlds of their making,
heavens of their fantasies
Oct 22, 2010
Oct 22, 2010 at 7:34 PM UTC
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.
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 5:05 PM UTC
I have been invisible before.
My thoughts and justifications were transparent.
All anyone could see were my actions;
the way I failed and stumbled,
and ran head first into doors that lead me down path after path of distraction.
At least they seemed like distractions,
oh, but they become my destruction.
I spent my time quietly imploding,
only to change my mind last minute,
and suddenly explode.
I changed my mind,
but my body stayed stock still.
I stood in front of the judges
and while my tongue was granite,
the urge to run from the podium had never been greater.
I wished to be invisible.
I wished to go to a dark corner of the room and finish my implosion.
Out of sight,
where I could hide and self destruct without a sound.
And then if,
or when,
I picked up the shrapnel,
I could re-join everyone on stage at graduation.
I could hold my head high
and with a smile,
pretend no one saw me crumble.
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 7:26 AM UTC
God made every single creature for a reason!
It happened many years ago, an average day at work
when I was employed as nothing more, just a simple clerk
Heaven sent me a lesson, they saw fit that I learn
sent through the smallest of creatures, knowing I would discern
My first instinct was simple, to one all could relate
a desire to crush this cockroach, I could not wait
As I raised my foot, making sure my aim was set
knowing that he'd be finished, with nothing to regret
I was overpowered by a thought, a simple thought to consider
why should this ugly creature, cause me to be bitter?
With great plan and purpose, was this cockroach surely made
but where was born this eagerness to **** or for me to be afraid?
With great difficulty going against my nature, I did then dare
no more justifications were acceptable to me, for I was now aware
Although small and ugly was my limited perception, I could still care
With this cockroach, nothing would stop me, and would I now spare
Lessons throughout life, does our Creator continually teach
empowering us with free choice, and potential growth that we reach
By contemplating our thoughts, and their true meaning that we may find
a change of heart in our actions, and a true desire to be kind
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
Philosophical epistemology strumming adventures
Albeit, coherent mental decoding stratifications structured
Supposedly our world rests in our minds, revolving knowledge
An entwine of conceptual abstract flowing within oneself
The mind in the “I” the “I” a reality lived in my experiences
George of Leontini, a mine mind approving solipsism exploring innatism
Imaginative insights that nothing exists, the secrets secreting secrets
The knowledge behind the veils that remains un-communicated
A reverse of normality and known existences, moral disposition
Hypothesis of depersonalizations, adventures of self internalization
Justifications for what lies outside the Medulla Oblongata
Skepticism and just alternatives to western philosophy
Subjective unapproved experiences only robust in one’s mind
Descartes abstraction of inner experiences, reciprocated paradigm
Intuitively, perceived lived formulations of "Cogito Ergo Sum"
Psychological conscious undoubted individualistic thoughts
Berkley explored perspectives that physicality is an embodiment of the mind
The mind a decoding visualizer, that encompass the non-existent
An idealism marriage of ‘metaphysical’ and epistemological philosophy
The intense esoteric “dualism” verses the fiery “monism” reality
Mind boggling differentiated truths bleeding with blinking unresolvable hypothesis
The jiggered methodological, streamlining the un -logic sequential beats
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
I bought a real nutcracker today.
A fine shiny black truly cool looking one!
Each crack compliments to a dandy vintage lad's imaginary home TV shopper Ad.
Saying‘It's guaranteed! Hundred percent of mechanosensory reception!’
I try to convince myself between time stretching
‘Yes or No’s and ‘Just use stones’
‘Come on you've deserved it!’
‘Why bother?’
You have been craving for each
Tried and tested any,
same as so many
even from a hard peach.
So why not!? Keep it! – as if a testimony, from tough to juicy mimicking fruity blending **** seduced by crunchy mouth twisting *****
Digested from special yearly events to monthly justifications then weekly to daily and surprisingly after dinner, before breakfast, as brunch or even a whole meal sometimes.
You gnaw like a small rodent layer by layer cute but so tight although he says that’s alright.
Dashing trunks as if a woodpecker,
Stealing home reserved only-for-the-pet’s crumbs and
Finally receiving next day’s well deserved belly cramps.
Come on you almost broke your teeth during your worldwide exploring different types of shell husking trip.
Feel blessed now one time for goddess’ sake that she winks and tweaks my lips while it creaks, festively announces your recent find that nuts you shall eat raw only - neither baked nor from a sinfully roasted ready packed plastic bag.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 8:56 AM UTC
<>
it’s not even 6am, restless night, or wrestled night, ain’t much difference, see the **** geese on the water’s edge, I dutifully slip out of bed, awakening no one, dutifully slide in to my slip-on sneakers, grab the white umbrella next to the front door, dutifully, steadily, my first chore of the day, walk deliberately (and carefully) to make them get them get heck away, into the sound, and to cease polluting the grass where children may play…
standing at the waters edge, task finished, the sky commands examination, there is within the cumulus textured, multi-pastel, thick curdled pastiche cloud banks, overhanging the world as far as one can see, a substantive hole appearing in the sky revealing a blue heaven….what one believes, prefers should be, but what is, in fact,
not a…given and we are a but, partly cloudy day, a partly clouded observant person…
this reminds me that there are holes in all places, everywhere, in my disturbed sleep, where I spend hours of triangulating in dreams, what I cannot pin down:
who I am, what I am, my purpose on earth, though I know where
I am, though not even, most critically, why I am…
is this a poem?
this thoughtful cursed query sits behind my eyes, frontally lobed, perpetually asking, judging me, these words, repetitiously heard,
one is not fooled,
it is a simple self-evaluation test, only an ask,
what are my justifications, ma raison d'être,
(reason for being) which is an amuse, for I discover
in French, ‘reason for being,’
is a feminine word,
(qui en Français,
c'est un mot féminin…)
and that makes me smile,
for I’m a woman-centric man
(I have no gender confusion,
this is not one of the holes
to which I refer)
perhaps it is, or, perhaps it is a rambunctious rambling of no worth, for no answers are obtained, given, deduced, and holes, skyward and inward are deep, none delimited by neither bottom or a top, just widening gaps and gapes in my existence…and answers are not
forthcoming…
<>
5:50am
Thursday July 18
Year Two Thousand and Twenty Four
Jul 18, 2024
Jul 18, 2024 at 6:51 AM UTC
sometimes an acrid heat
rises in my vocal cords
it tells me to do things
i don't want to do
but i do want it
i just wish i didn't.
it steals my voice
it masquerades as honor
it whispers justifications
it reveals itself to me
in a way i can't refuse
it tells me
it reminds me
how sweetly it stings
when i drag my fingers
against my skin
how could i say no?
i am weak
it wants me to hurt
i want to hurt
it wants me to hurt
i want to hurt
i(t) want(s me) to hurt
because it never was anything
but my own desires
i just didn't want them
to be mine
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 6:56 PM UTC
Violent roses
give me woozes everyday
I'm hammered on my own
something
is always slipping through
a filter of justifications
language misrepresents me
I don't think words that
spread ideas like intrinsic responsibility
are relavent outside of cults of personality
So I'd prefer to say
through a filter of new ideas
of what safe thoughts are in a fear house
reinterpreted
Soft violet soup
gifting a brainhorse with a two by four
or convictions falling
out of atrophy
or perhaps
a lack of neccessity
I don't know
maybe
a letting go of an abusive tack
that pressed you to let go of joy
Oh I don't knoowoh
To find yourself a damaged adult
with a mind aimed at forgetfulness and
forgivefulness
A new rage forms in tandem
with a promise
to a menacing question asked
by those who unfetttered their wallets
but that was ages ago
and now it's time for a letting go
at least that's
what the last night alone begot
but who is past that inside lie
that furthers time
well I can't see anyway
So **** it I'll lose it or die.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 4:19 AM UTC
with each passing day, I understand less and less, for
who could ever claim to know it all, yet, the simplicity
of our base-ic basest instincts makes evil so easily attractive,
that now, I forgive almost nothing, anyone for the cruelty
inherent in on the surfacial skin of our normalcy, so easily,
revealed, and reveled in, wrecks me, and the poetry
sparks are not doused, but wick and ember shriveled
oh the irony, that foolish me should write of the
commandment to love just as the world displays
old levels of hate historically deep… .I am hated,
to many who would know me only as Jew,
and this refresher course in my brain, reminds me,
that love thy neighbor as thyself, can morph into a
generational opposite, that my former degree of comfort,
beliefs, was only skin deep…and Tolstoy was a naïf, a romantic,
a royal, who hoped for the best in each man, and that
cannot ne achieved for hate is so easy digestible, so sweet a treat
for humans, who desire no compass other than simple baseness
to know which direction to take….
————————————————————————————-
”There can be only one permanent revolution—a moral one; the regeneration of the inner man. How is this revolution to take place? Nobody knows how it will take place in humanity, but every man feels it clearly in himself. And yet in our world everybody thinks of changing humanity, and nobody thinks of changing himself."
Tolstoy
”To perform evil deeds a person must discover “a justification for his actions,” so that he can regard stealing, humiliating and killing as good. “Macbeth’s self-justifications were feeble,” and so conscience restrained him. He had no ideology, Solzhenitsyn observes, nothing like “anti-imperialism” or “decolonization” to allay pangs of guilt. Solzhenitsyn concludes: “Ideology—that is what gives evil-doing its long-sought justification and gives the evil-doer the necessary steadfastness and determination . . . so that he won’t hear reproaches and curses but receive praise and honors.”
Solzhenitsyn
Oct 20, 2023
Oct 20, 2023 at 3:08 PM UTC
When your soul dies,
When a mother cries,
When the law denies
Your right to be free.
You know that you're trapped
In a twisted reality.
When children are bombed,
Yet you're told to remain calm
'Cause the justifications are psalms.
Then you know the world's in the palm
Of the hand of a madman.
Or rather a group of men and women
With diabolical plans.
When your leaders are your enemies,
Families in control for centuries
Yet we still don't know their identities
As they pray to demonic entities?
Then you know it's all insanity
And you're in a dark reality.
When the law makers break the law,
When the carnage leaves you in awe,
When kids slit wrists until they're raw,
And patriots become outlaws.
Then I know I've reached the decline
Of this "Great" country of mine
What has humanity been worth?
Not just the country also the Earth,
Was doomed to destruction from its birth.
Because of a parasite so evil,
With thought processes so medieval.
But as a wise man once taught me,
I cannot hate all humanity
For we are kept down on our knees
By the self-interested nature of you and me
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 1:40 PM UTC
A few mistakes can be recalled and remembered
Many were made prior
Amongst the many, a few can still be identified in the present.
A couple of them definitely occupy a space in the present amongst the many, which were made prior.
The more we go into the details of something,
something specific, something in particular,
then much more intense becomes the need of hour to be vigilant and alert.
Over a period of time things become complicated
Simple things take lot of time to get done, since handling any task now seems to be time consuming.
Justifications and explanations will be of no use
Questions will be raised by few for which answers will be asked by each and everyone.
Often, definitely much more than often, complications do come across at a given point of time in one's life.
Even complications have their own way to enter into someone's life,
even they have got their own starting point
Always it's better to keep things simple, at least as simple as possible
Better to get complications sorted out, if not resolved.
Also otherwise, better to get complications resolved as and when they occur.
If not, then it will only be a matter of time for the present to be ruined.
Come what may in the middle of way, a temptation sort of thing
Always it's better you know your way.
Come what may come along the way
At the spur of moment it comes to mind, let's take this short cut
It's always better you know your way.
A lot of things are learned, when experience is gained, since old mistakes are avoided and new mistakes corrected.
From the experiences of past and from the different experiences in life, definitely one thing is for sure a lot of things are learned over a period of time.
Not all are worth remembering,
definitely agreed upon the fact that only a few amongst them are worth remembering.
Make a mistake, but see to it never repeat the same old mistake
Definitely make some new mistake
A lot can be learnt from old mistakes, but never by repeating them.
Making new mistake gives an altogether different preference,
since as and when, whenever a new mistake is made,
something, which is bound to happen,
each and everything in the present changes,
once a new mistake happens.
Things now seem to be different, since a new mistake has happened
The need of the hour now is to explore more
Search and find out what is lacking in self
Once done and over with the same,
then keep in mind ways of avoiding this new mistake.
Always remember
Make a new mistake,
but keep in mind and see to it never repeat the same old mistakes in life.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 1:24 PM UTC
While Rachel slept lost in twisted sheets,
I fixed myself a drink.
I sat outside for an hour to breathe
cigarette smoke -- my mind on the brink.
All my time spent with couples,
my wanderings tamed for privacy fences--
a third wheel in groups of four rubble,
am I ***** prophet, poet or menace?
I thought as the stars coughed across
the acidic sky; I wish for a spark to ignite--
the powder trail of ambition I lost
in swampy suburban repetition cries.
On the steps of my porch, I felt no God.
In the arms of worship or between a lover's thighs,
no sanctity, nor blessing, just scattered dirt clods--
I miss the old ignorance -- kept my heart from whys.
But now those same whys taunt and entice.
A supreme darkness surrounds me--
one my eyes have adjusted to--
one my justifications turn free--
leaving me hungry for new dark territories
and the kind of knowledge that never
lets you sleep.
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 9:52 AM UTC
My heels bite the pavement,
the cadence of Monday through Friday;
My shoulders are stressed
In spite of ergonomics.
The strangers who pass me,
eyes glossed with similar fatigue,
beat a shuffling rhythm:
the melody hypnotizes.
That's why I don't notice.
Walking just the same,
a pace not unlike the teller
or the lawyer in front of me.
They speak of a repast,
old haunts, new places,
television and sports.
Another measure, no sign of caesura.
When I find myself unsure,
uncertain of the cool ground beneath,
of the muffled grumblings
and the scrapes on my knees,
it feels like a dream.
“I'll wake up soon, I'm at home.
I've fallen asleep to the T.V.,
a wacky dream bred from the same.”
The breath on my neck is so hot.
Once my head straightens up,
the world once again standing still before me,
the weight against my body multiplies.
The floating sensation of sleep,
The feeling of a shell within a shell,
It dissipates and my insides are knots,
molten lava, churning against its crust
and my skin screams in tune.
The grunting and the pawing,
brusque lips are sinking ships.
There's not enough sandpaper
in the world to compare.
Those heels are dust,
their teeth broken and rotted;
Percussion takes a rest.
I am trapped inside my clothes.
Twisted like a snake around my body,
I want only to be free of them--
in any other situation but.
“Here let me help you with that.”
The words slither, covered in mold.
My every wish in that single moment
Answered, a betrayal; trite axioms abound.
Suddenly the weight lifts, is suspended,
a chance accorded to a plain old girl.
But my limbs are heavy, fear looms,
Justifications swarm my panicked mind.
“Don't be stupid. Give them what they want;
They'll leave you alone. Go to another place.
Return with some piece of mind:
no matter how fractured your body, you heal.”
But there's a light on overhead.
The unmasked man stares lustfully at my lips.
His uncharted groping is fervent, fearless--
his desire to be soon bestowed upon him.
Consequences do not glaze his feverish eyes,
and worry lies dormant, sets off no warnings.
The cage was set, the trap precisely executed
and there's no spoon to help me out of here.
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 12:18 AM UTC
Details are always painful
Whether they are justifications
from a cheated partner or the
long monotonous description of a
curriculum's historical event.
Details always hurts
Whether these are the innumerable
unfulfilled promises of a minister or the
revealed reality of a schadenfreude
in disguise of your friend.
Details are always excruciating
Whether these are the tormenting
statements of a **** victim or the
soul piercing words of the people
living in blighted areas on social media.
Details always left you sombre
Whether they are the elucidation of your
acquaintance's tragic demise or the
rendition of a symbolic line in
Shakespeare's play.
Details always give you cold shivers
Whether it is listening to a horror
story in a solitary hostel room or the
sour scolding of your parents
for ******** up your exams.
The predicament is that
Details mostly give us a food
for thought but ultimately we all
end up grieving on things and doing
nothing about them.
Next time you encounter any DETAIL
that left you with even a bit of
of bad emotion,not just get grief-stricken
do something about it,so that you
don't feel bad when you confront it again.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 5:43 AM UTC
His sheets are now marked
As her territory,
A territory that'll only be conquered
For the night.
In the morning,
There will be fussing because
When the sun rises, so do the questions
Of Reality;
The statements of cynicism and lies.
She'll try to maintain her place.. With
His body on hers,
Not an inch seen of personal space;
Ready to claim what is now hers
As His.
Her justifications
Her pleading eyes
Her lips drenched with temptation
His mind racing wanting to get the deed
Signed in the upmost speed of time
Her hesitation warming her up all the more
But he doesn't care because he's
Conquered and reconquered
Many bodies of land before.
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 8:04 PM UTC
How Beautiful it is, this Gift of Life!
The Gift To Be!
The Irony is.. it is what you Perceive.
How Vast your Ontology.
Idiosyncrasy shows you,
what you know either Flows you,
or Stills your Will to Grow.
To be Happy is a choice!
To be ignorant in an Age of Information, or to have a Voice?
The Absurdity is--
Our Transcendent Consciousness is within an Immense Majority of Reality.
We are but a small Human Form; a speck in Space and Time.
Each Chain of Action holds many Justifications, and We are the Authority.
If there is no Reason to Believe that Anything Matters.
Then the Opposite must be true.
There is Reason to Believe that Everything Matters.
That is the Irony:
We, as Conscious Beings Knowing!!
- Yet only Knowing that which we want to fit into our Epistemology and Ontology.
Perception: We See and Do only what our Self Allows us.
The Collision of Reality and Perception within us, is like Chains Binding us.
Yet, we hold the Key to our Freedom..
"All of a Sudden I said, 'Could you Believe!?'"
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
Your Delicate, Char, Intoxicating, eyes are foretelling,
yearning
for I,
But your heart is disdained ,
Wandering,
Fragile and remote from the affection thrown to you,
Possibly distress and Remitting,
Respiring explanations and justifications,
My declarations are not near as endearing as yours,
Heed my words,
My ambition,
Desire,
Inclination,
Will power,
Wish,
Beyond all ,
Become my completed whole,
Admitting My Dear is as painfully to be pure ,
I Shall withstand it,
No other shines ,
Or reflects rays of the heavens,
From above and beneath,
My sinful demand is and Only One,
Be mine.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 1:32 AM UTC
I am not interested in you view on life
Sure I was once upon a time
But it has been to clear for to long
The un-Godly time unmentionable
that you and I have blasphemed together
Sure you say you have yours and on the other side
You are a babe again
Then, well so what
what am I
here now
thee unmentionable time
where the dead prescriptions
are busy being written
as stories
for grave stones
where you have a world
for babes
that are better not born in
not your own
no one
thee unmentionables ours
or who'd dare claim them
Tell me something new
for my own sake
the children's
or from yourself
and I am ears
I am heart
Love
forgiveness
Yes **** it
I could be interested!!
Not in iced over cakes
that have their day
and nonsense
and spend eternity as
death
and decay
Or non-nonsensical romantic fairy tales
I'd dare not tell the precious young
Where sugar and spice is only nice
And the end is already written
in the beginning
I guess so sadly to say
we are so beyond that
but for differing reason
Mine is already stated
Yours is self pity and hell's
fury and justifications
Tell me
Show me
Something NEW!!!
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 12:44 PM UTC
time passes, does it not,
trickling away in drops, from a leaking tap unnoticed
imperceptible, drops of our days and months that
tsunami into years
we might grow more cynical or wise
we might allow the animals to howl or to transform
or we might eliminate hierarchy and symbolism
and see plain and clear past the allegory
what is left of the experiment
(an unintended one, an unknowing participant even)
the residue, the remains of the years –
what chemical composition do we have?
What has transpired here? -
as clueless as we are of the first expansions
the time when the universes arrive in another cycle;
or perhaps we could see everything in the cocksureness of faith
and drag on, in suspension, leave in doubt or in certainty –
each but a conditioning, a myth,
the truth shrouded in symbol and plainness
O sweet loves,
Time wraps us in its mysterious archaic cyberspace
an inner space that draws a roar, a bark, a howl
and we have justifications, visionary words, systems
to put everything into perspective
like a Titian framed so elegantly in an esteemed museum
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 12:37 AM UTC
fool me once.
that's all it takes.
for me to leave you,
not trust you.
keep as far away from you.
save the apologies,
spare me the excuses.
i don't care for your reasons
nor for your justifications.
once is all it takes
for me to believe that
you can do it again.
don't give me your promises,
i don't want your sweet talk,
don't whisper about the future,
and please don't sing about love.
cause i saw what you gave to her
and i know it's the same as mine.
so don't think i'm dumb,
and don't assume i'm naive.
cause once is enough for me.
to prove to you that
i'm no fool.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 1:11 PM UTC
It happened in the 50's.
Nineteen year old **** stars
Drive to the edge of the city
In hopes to lure a cheerleading ******
Onto their prize list
Of testosterone driven pilgrimages
Girls would fault hearts
Rapt in their own justifications
It happened in the 50's.
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 10:16 PM UTC
Such suffering I have sown,
But I accept my portion,
What then is there to do.
All the blame cannot be my own
Alone.
If in the flaming depths of Tartarus there is a searing pool
It is there I shall dive, for I have fallen beneath the zenith,
I dip beneath the clouds, soon to shatter on the earth.
Likely that my plea for clemency will fail,
I cannot be held accountable for so blindly fumbling into the deceptions,
When no lens has been provided for me,
I was greeted first with insult,
Then recognized for my wit, and patience,
But low, I never parted the veil.
Justifications are for the guilty,
I cannot justify my nature.
Nor can I say why a scale tips back and forth
With equal weights, on each side,
Only to settle askew,
Again and again.
If there is enough love in this shallow heart,
This cheap vessel of hollow virtue.
I will burn it in the embers of my failing passion,
So as maybe, to brighten the eyes of another,
Whose gaze is less grey than mine.
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 5:47 PM UTC