"justify" poems
You are beautiful
No matter your size, skin color, religion or sexuality
Don't ever let anyone doubt that
Life would be boring without diversity
You are beautiful
and the lenght of your dress tonight doesn't justify anyone calling you a **** nor gives them permission to grab your tight
Only you can give them consent
And remember to say no is your right
You are beautiful
wear those strechmarks with pride
They are perfectly normal and natural
Don't look at them as flaws
Your body is a miracle that you don't need to hide
You are beautiful
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 5:43 PM UTC
*racism
sexism
colorism*
discrimination
over
*disability
sexuality
religion
creed
class*
so many fancy names
so many false excuses
given to justify the need
of the human heart
to hate
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 4:47 AM UTC
745
Renunciation—is a piercing Virtue—
The letting go
A Presence—for an Expectation—
Not now—
The putting out of Eyes—
Just Sunrise—
Lest Day—
Day’s Great Progenitor—
Outvie
Renunciation—is the Choosing
Against itself—
Itself to justify
Unto itself—
When larger function—
Make that appear—
Smaller—that Covered Vision—Here—
19.5k
She's more of a poet
'cause she went to school for it,
and she tastes sweet in the morning,
and in the evening,
sunlight filters through her
and lights up that slice of lemon
that I love so much.
I think I'll have a writer -
on the rocks.
Every time I come home,
my room smells like *** in the summer,
and it sounds like the vinyl is still under the needle.
Best album of two thousand and nine.
Best album of all time.
Sand between our toes,
we wrote prose
on a filthy mattress but
roses never grew here.
And they never will.
There was something about us though,
something that had a feverish pulse
behind it. I'd say it was something to
do with the way we have of never putting
a cheap laugh below us. I think it has
something to do with resilience but I'm not sure.
Humming trite voicings of things we'd heard
in the backseat of our fathers' cars, radios on,
you use to tell me to flash the turn signal,
in the black of night, just so you could make sure
we were alive. Dry, but at least alive.
A little beacon to justify us,
and just defy them.
Whiskey,
come over
here and
kiss me.
C'mon
Corinthian,
keep me
company!
Set this manuscript
to music and dance for me!
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 3:08 PM UTC
No no no, this isn’t one of those commendable confessional rants of redounded reality.
We all know where that goes and what it leads to.
This rhetoric comprises solely of the faulty intuitive comprehension and the ******** behaviour people have while under the influence of the poor man’s ****
That could be mistaken for a typo.
Xeno-meph, would be what aliens are called if they did this too.
Extended warranty of your sinus cavity is a must.
And a mouth guard so you don’t churn away at the capricious calcium that are your teeth.
Smoke and dance till lungs and legs collapse.
Talk like you’re the spokesperson for an oil company that’s pillaging life and land.
Change your personality in a minute and become the ****** you always wanted to be.
That smart talking, **** wagging, ***** licking, *** ******* back stabbing, self serving, worthless piece of **** is now you, but it doesn’t feel like that to you.
Rational ******** your only reprieve.
Keep doing the same things over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again hoping the outcome will change.
But you’re cool.
You’ve done this before, it’s solvable.
A break. That’s all there’s to it.
The itch in your nose has stopped. Your jaw doesn’t hurt.
You don’t feel like **** but you know somehow that something is amiss.
Things are not what they seem. Sense doesn’t make itself.
The dark is your sanctum. Fast is your peace.
That’s not a typo.
The world cannot slow down for you.
You have to speed up. Another gram, another line, another lie.
Control is what you say it is.
Handles are what your stomach has.
Fast forward a few months and you don’t have a handle on anything.
You don’t feel down, you feel fine. Nothing’s wrong
But just another fall, and you’re straight out of line.
Justify! Justify! Justify!
Listen, keep listening… Talk! keep talking!
Everything makes sense. Everything is a sense.
The difference is that I’m faster, quicker, sharper.
I’m handicapped.
Leverage is my mind, broken and blind.
I wish that was a typo.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 5:12 AM UTC
To disguise our sin of greed
We debate philosophies
And justify our economies
Our sins cannot be covered
By shouting explanations
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
Time isn't wasted at the end of the day
When you're in bed thinking about all the things
You could've done,
You could've said,
All the empty boxes left on your to do list
Time is wasted
When you're standing on a rock at the edge of a waterhole
And decide to not jump
When you're sitting in your car trying to justify reasons
For not going in
When you anxiously hit backspace
Instead of expressing how you truly feel
When you ignore your heart that's screaming
"You deserve better."
It's lost in I could have and I should have,
In missed opportunities,
In letting fears override judgement
Time is not necessarily wasted
In passing minutes, months, years
We waste time by
Counting seconds,
And by letting seconds pass
When we could've made
Those seconds count
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 10:12 PM UTC
The punitive silences,
the bad atmosphere they generate,
the mind-games they use to try to **** you in
are telltale signs of the toxic person.
It could be your in-laws, a parent, coworker, your boss or spouse,
a sibling, a roommate, boyfriend or girlfriend,
someone you want out of the house.
Toxic people want to make you miserable.
Especially if you're a decent sort, they hone in on you like a heat-seeking missile.
They spew their negativity and blame it on you.
They lie constantly, or twist the facts to suit their changing needs of the moment
and they never apologize (so don't expect an apology, ever).
With a toxic person there is no reciprocity.
They sprinkle their toxic dust on you. It makes them feel better.
Their ulterior goal is to demean you, to make you feel smaller.
They project their worst tendencies onto you,
find fault with you for traits you don't possess---
a shadow of the **** that lurks inside them.
They try to dictate the emotional atmosphere
through their attitude or twisted mood.
They drain you of your energy, bring you down,
They'll always find a reason why your good news isn't great news.
Their agenda is to cut you down to their size,
to manipulate and control
to **** you over while they play the injured party.
Confront the bully. Speak up to the manipulator, the trickster, the backstabber.
but beyond a certain point
there is no point in arguing with them.
Don't try to change the toxic person. You can't.
You'd have better luck changing an orangutan into **** sapiens.
Only a shrink could change them, and then only if they hit rock-bottom.
Don't try to justify yourself. It's a waste of time which would only draw you deeper into their net.
Set boundaries to keep their negativity in check.
Stop trying to please them.
Let that toxic somebody in your life know you're onto them
and they can't get away with it anymore.
Don't fall into their trap, don't get caught up in their life-dramas
or try to get them out of trouble. Don't let them instill guilt in you.
But try not to take their toxicity personally.
Remember, it's them, not you. You are not to blame
though they desperately want you to feel you've done something wrong.
If necessary (and if possible), delete the toxic person from your life and move on.
Know when enough is enough.
Saying good riddance doesn't necessarily mean you hate them, it means
your own well-being comes first.
Immunize yourself. Preserve your inner strength.
Set your own rules.
And, when possible, just walk away.
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 2:23 AM UTC
Selfish needs
holding on
to old words
What could they ever mean now
Selfish deeds
to justify staying the night
by your side
What more could become of this
Selfish love
I am to blame
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 3:16 PM UTC
Isn't it funny,
That you want things
You dont have,
and have things you don't want.
And you spend your time praying,
Trying to justify sin
And pass it off as love.
We get this idea in our heads,
That we aren't meant to be alone.
That the only point in life
Is to find someone to make you
Feel complete.
But if you need someone to fill you,
Isn't that just like putting a bandaid
Over a bullethole?
There's always the possibility
Of love leaving,
Of having empty spaces again?
I think its more important to
Complete yourself.
People come and go like seasons.
But you will always be stuck
With yourself.
So live and love as hard as you can.
As passionately as you can.
And remember that the last persons
Voice you'll hear when you lie
Down to drift off into eternal sleep,
Is your own.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
I'm so passed overthinking
My overthinking over thinks
The thinking I'm overthinking
To the point I'm thinking over
What's over thought and I thought
I was over this
Just didn't think it over enough
dilemma dilemma
yeap
Hold on we're in for a bumpy ride
Airwaves collide
I'm pretty sure we've been here before
I'm confused
What was the thought
Somewhere amongst this chaos
I forgot the original thought
Now I'm overthinking
A thought that can't be found
Wait wait
Oh yes I remember now
The thought was simply
Peanut butter or jelly
On the last piece of toast
So both
Or one
But which
Rock
Paper
Scissors
How do I answer this
It's an impossible equation
1+1 is good
1+the other is good
1+2 makes 1
But I wanted to share it with you
So now there's not enough
Either way
So what do you prefer
Before my brain cells implode
Giving up on the hope
I'll ever make a decision
That will justify the reason
Why I'm overthinking
What to feed you for breakfast in bed
Maybe just coffee...
Wait which brand?
How strong?
More or less sugar?
Too much creamer!
**** it I'm going to work
Everything *****
When over-thought thoughts
Become thoughts we've been over
Overthinking themselves
Into non-existence
And I forget how
I started this conversation with myself
Or what it no longer pertains to
What was I talking about again?
Oh yeah do I have everything
What did I forget
Wallet
Keys
Phone
Socks
Shoes
Pants
Shirt
Necklace
Hat
30 minutes later it'll remind me
I woke up hungry
Couldn't decide what to feed myself
It's too late, I'm late for work
Mar 26, 2021
Mar 26, 2021 at 1:59 AM UTC
I want to be available
to the people who love me.
I want to be there
emotionally, physically, financially.
I want to be their shoulder
their crutch, their solace.
The person who does not drop anything.
I want to give the feeling
of lightness to every being walking this earth.
Every human, creature, and plant
as they grow up fast.
I want to be nutrition,
a steadfast superhuman
so unfazed, so cool-headed.
It infuriates me
that I'm not this person.
It should be so easy to give.
If I just get my **** together,
I've repeated on and off again
the last five years.
But somehow, I always manage
to waste enough time
to get there,
but late.
When I have nothing
left, a hollow person
someone gave too
many tries.
Still, the people I love
tell me I'm wise,
an angel body.
Like they must justify,
who I am,
the imposter
the transient,
always planning,
for when she can
run away again.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 11:53 PM UTC
Yes, I'm a girl and I'm not trying to justify my body language nor am I positioning the rights of a feminist on the top, but
Yes, I was questioned always, even when I was right.
Subservience was legitimized as my trait ever since I felt this world.
Every time when I was buckled under by his lecherous eyes, I was asked to adjust my dupatta well.
Every action of mine substantiated the height to which I'll hold the name of my family.
I was asked to cross legs while sitting, speak amicably, yet not solitously.
Every time I'd to hide my period stain like a ****** blot.
I was asked to gallop my cramps because letting it out is a bitter sin.
Yes, I get my body scanned by their lewd gaze day in and out even when I put my baggiest of clothes on.
Yes, I'm a girl, and I have beautiful synonyms, call me maal, patola, bomb, ***** *** or a girl? May be, let yourself decide.
Yes, I'm questioned on the extension of the Roti's that I make and the smiles that I couldn't fake.
Yes, I'm a girl and I'll stand, and question your authority if it calls for, call me stubborn. Okay!
Remember, I'm a girl, and if you accuse me of being a feminist if I know, and can raise my tone up and against your authority, humanism needs to be checked then.
-APARAJITA TRIPATHI
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 10:13 PM UTC
His blue eyes are like glacial-lakes, wrapping around his heart till he's chilled to the bone from the cold.
A deadly place where treading is no longer permitted.
His eyes are transparent and distant as the impersonal clouds passing overhead.
Even as I stands before him, reflecting off him.
I am still merely a reflection.
He knows my face, I reason silently.
From the hills of my cheeks, down towards the valley separating my lips.
He should recognize it all.
Instead a blank expression greets me.
A look of cold, solid insouciance.
I'm immediately angry with myself for wanting to justify his indifference's.
A reflex I've never been able to expel.
The vestigial limb on a skeleton.
A party favor from another time forgotten for the newly discovered toy.
I twist in the fridged winds wrapping around him.
My force giving under the great pressure magnified by his powers.
I never wanted to dance upon his breeze.
This realization makes me burn hotter.
My anger brighter than the northern star.
I welcome it, my amounting rage.
I embraces it with a raging smile.
His glaciers may be cold, immovable at times.
A pretentious notion I might freeze.
For I am the sun swirling in nova's ring and cannot be affected by his black iced personality.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 11:38 AM UTC
the hate
comes from every angle
but mostly from the heart
in spite of glaring
desperation
that leaves the
lawn uncut;
as if littered driveways
and starving dogs
justify another term
of stolen wealth
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 5:24 PM UTC
Not an enigmatic smile
Like the constipated, condescending smirk
Adorning, and inexplicably adored, on the Mona Lisa's smug face;
But a smile to justify God's existence;
A smile that, when dazzlingly bestowed
Upon one fortunate soul, caught rabbit-like in its
Wondrous radiance, infinitesimally, and cumulatively,
Increases the World's joy. Where every living thing -
Whatever exists on the planet, imperceptibly hums
To a new, more celestial pitch -
An effervescent vibration celebrating Life's mysteries:
A reason for existence.
It's a smile to make an Alchemist cry -
Turning a leaden heart to gold in an instant.
It's a smile to make a mediocre poet struggle
To articulate an adequate description
Using all the hyperbole, simile and metaphor at his limited disposal.
Inestimably more brilliant, and more valuable,
Than the most flawless diamond ever found -
And, perhaps, just as rare.
Thankfully, a renewable resource,
Enabled to enlighten and heat
The recesses of any beneficiary's
Heart and invigorate their soul.
Helen may have caused a thousand ships to sail,
Destroying a nation as a consequence;
And Cleopatra nearly caused the collapse of an Empire;
But Tao's smile, unleashed in all its glory
Could melt the Antarctic ice-sheet -
Drowning us all in its magnificence.
Mayan's have a myth that states such a smile
Only comes around once every twelve thousand years,
In the Great Galactic turning.
Einstein's General Theory of Relativity
Is often mistakenly considered to concern gravity,
But is, in fact, concerned with one's relative position
To Tao's smile - an inescapable vortex of pleasure.
No music conceived of the fabled Celestial Spheres
Compares to the silent, ethereal harmonies tattooing my heart
Whenever, beacon-like, that smile flashes fleetingly in my direction.
And Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle has not a Quantum core,
But revolves around the statistical uncertainty of being blessed
With the ephemeral thrill of a benign grim.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
My country
a land like no other.
just like my mother
i wouldn't want another
so special to me
in different but in every way
i shall bring forth dignity
not tommorow, but everyday
to developement we shall strive
keeping the momentum alive
we shall qualify,
for everything there to justify.
Sri lanka,
the name that spells my honour,
in the life cirlcle.
Just a small miracle.
Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 1:40 AM UTC
To disguise our sin of greed
We debate philosophies
And justify our economies
Our sins remain uncovered
Despite our explanations
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 12:52 PM UTC
Justify the real illustration on the pastel, this is a painting festival live your thoughts and ideas and dreams. Illuminate the night, stretch the light and make the night turn white. The luminous charm didn't work this time, I'm fine but let's look for something neat to see, so we can look harder and harder and harder, nice to know we went farther and farther than we knew we could, so picked my rain coat and yelled hey looks like rain and rain came down.
The thunder preyed on the sky and all we saw was light and we went higher,higher,higher and higher, higher, higher and higher, higher, higher and the Highlands seeked all in sight was light and the sky sighed out grief and died from the white light
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
Nothing can justify your silence,
Unless you really don't want to talk about it.
Oct 12, 2019
Oct 12, 2019 at 4:07 AM UTC
A strange kind of people
whose hegemonic ways dictate
and justify them
to exhort their rituals upon outsiders
and breathe fire on those
who refuse.
They have people called Slareneg
whose job it is to decide the fate
of the outsiders.
They claim to be receptive
of foreign rites
but are known to somehow be able to
coerce others into
blindly discerning matters their way.
They even have a history of
confining their own,
the ones they care not for at least,
to do their bidding for them
even though they are of akin heritage.
These people also defecate in the same place
where they consume meals.
They are backwards.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 1:20 AM UTC
The Emperor left his palace
with something shiny on his shoulder
it weighed as much as an apple
but was the size of a boulder
it was the greatest weapon
his workers could build
the town awaited its appearance
even though they had foot the bill
Amazing said the scholar as the emperor passed
so much power but such little weight
this right here can save a country
what you hold will educate
we will teach people
and they will listen
and if they won't
we will show them this weapon
splendid said the old lady as the emperor trotted by
I have been waiting all my life for this
we must end all wars
that is my dying wish
now we can do that
we can fight off the opposition
and make sure peace reigns
while our leaders stay in top position
I don't get it said the kid and the emperor stopped
what could you not understand about my gun?
the boy answered this world is full of idiots
and while you are surely not one
there are people out there
who would **** for that gun
let's not act like one large weapon
can change everybody under the sun
what's more likely is that it will only amplify
the issues that should be regional
we'll proclaim "Our gun is big!"
to justify that our choice is final
the bigger the gun
the more people it could ****
and the more people that can die
the more people that will
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
Selfish needs
holding on
to old words
What could they ever mean now
Selfish deeds
to justify staying the night
by your side
What more could become of this
Selfish love
I am to blame
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
struggle is the art form of the pitied, imagine
living lavishly, lightheartedly like a ladybug
in the spring just outside the city and
bliss: seldom seen in soldiers,
a privilege of the over privileged,
shining a bright, White light on each
and every one’s inner Judas, a way
to justify their means to demean
the conflict of the ages:
stay not in the sad, safe
confinements of that chrysalis or
smell not of that sweet, sweet,
chrysanthemum whose breath rocks of
morbidity.
breaking boundaries or snapping necks like
twigs on twigs on a White winter’s day, the summer:
long gone, and the fall: Black bruised knees and
scraped thighs, and a White world’s worth of words
left to say.
the New Year and the spring, alive and true,
are carried in by the southern wind and
trying times are all but through.
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC
partying
women
drugs
drink
do you ever think ?
you justify your every sin
with sugar coated words you lure
your's a tainted heart
it is not pure
poetry and pretty rhymes
hollow words
empty lines
partying
women
drugs
drink
do you ever think ?
think of the girl who loves you true
she has given her heart and soul to you
you took that love then took a **** on my face
just so you could have a taste
a taste of *****
****
and sweet ****
you *******
your love is a blatant farce
i am done
i am through
i burn the love i once gave to you
partying
women
drugs
drink
*******
do you ever think ?
Mar 24, 2011
Mar 24, 2011 at 11:10 PM UTC