"lightheartedness" poems
Hi there,
I see your brown eyes that dare
I see their happiness,
and unpredictable mischievousness,
Warm with crinkles on the edges and all
Promising me an irresistible fall
you there
They said, your brown eyes that dare
Telling me to be brave
and pursue these things I dare crave
Swearing to be there by my side and be
The best of friends with me
hi there
I say to your brown eyes that dare
I see your happiness,
and blatant lightheartedness,
But I see behind those madness and all
That your heart and soul are ready to fall
I'll be here
I wish your brown eyes could hear
I'm now telling you, be brave
Just let go of the darkness you crave
I swear to be by your side and be
Ready for you to lean on me
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 6:59 AM UTC
Freedom and independence are not synonymous
We have many freedoms
But zero independence
Independence is freedom
Freedom is not independence
What we celebrate is a false holiday
It's a cheap *** excuse to drink
And set **** aflame
What we celebrate is a false holiday
Once meant to portray
Our braking away
What we celebrate is a false holiday
That makes life seem like a joke
Because we've conformed too much
I have the freedom to say whatever
I **** well feel like
But I am not independent from fear
Or tyranny
This is America
Land of the stupid
Home of hatred
Everywhere I turn I see
Persecution
Oppression
For religion, *** and race
For orientations and confusions
For thought and for ideas
This is America
Not some fluffy dreamland
Like so many of us make it out to be
Yes I will be ready to admit
We are certainly freer than most
And yes, I will be ready to defend
My country with my words
But I can't sit on the sidelines
And just watch as my land falls to ****
"Happy Independence Day"
It breaks my heart that we have to declare a day
To recognize independence
It's a false independence we celebrate
I love the fireworks and the lightheartedness of it all
But it's ********
We shouldn't have to label a day
On a calendar
For historical emphasis
Woohoo Declaration of Independence
And all that jazz
But it no longer seems that way
Equality has never existed
This America, not an Aboriginal society
Pursuit of happiness is impossible
Because one person's happiness destroys another's
Liberty and justice for all?
Yeah right
Happy Independence Day to all who believe
But as for me
Independence my ***
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 12:28 PM UTC
I see things in the clouds,
pretty things,
scary things,
sometimes just shapes and fluff.
I feel things becasue of the clouds,
weightlessness,
lightheartedness,
sometimes just nothing.
I think about things because of the clouds,
flying far away,
how lovely that would be,
sometimes just mesmerized into sleep.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 1:07 PM UTC
Be my guide, direct my path, as I blindly *****
Make pure my actions and encompass the whole.
Simplify what the false rights have turned twisted.
Decipher what was given from what I have stole.
Turn me to embrace an unknown angle,
I make this plea from your higher power.
For many a year has passed away, wasted,
And my minutes hastily become their hour.
Bequeath to me a faith with no evidence,
To nurse my heart and my head in kind.
Remove the falacy of presumed knowledge,
Feed my eternal soul, not my feeble mind.
And, if your will, unveil to my neglected eye,
Your drawn line between pleasure and pain.
A clearer sense of reason, but yet also of heart,
Revealing certain, a great loss; a great gain.
Expose to me, please, your most preferred slant,
And beam the light that once formerly shown.
Temper my decision, Lord, and return me to where,
The choice was not mine, and not mine alone.
For wit, time exposed, as a false friend.
Who has failed me, time and then time again.
And led me here, to where I am now lost,
Blind and resentful of what should have been.
Overabundance turns the wise into fools,
Though the complex may shrug off the grief.
As time passes on, lightheartedness void,
Sole wisdom's been proven a thief.
Lift off the burden, the weight, and the fear,
Of holding my destiny within my hands.
I have found it a burden too heavy to bear,
And I ask to be moved - not to understand.
Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 8:00 AM UTC
Every relationship is different.
Spring.
Our relationship was not
Based in lightheartedness.
It was not a freeing love,
But rather a subdued intoxicated thing,
That hid in the shadows between our souls.
It was deep and serious
Because your life was not a lighthearted place.
I had dwelled in your mind and seen your fears,
I came to understand your bitterness,
Which you passed off as a care-free spirit
And a tough exterior.
But I loved you so.
I loved you when you left too.
Winter.
Somehow under a snowy gray sky
I came alive again,
With a relationship new and bright.
Not like the place of shadows and depth,
But rather like fire,
that came alive from a single spark
and breathed warmth back into my heart.
We share a light
It spills out of your eyes and into mine.
We thrive in a place where laughter floats on the wind
and the past is all but forgotten.
Where two people can learn about love
And not be burdened by fear.
where time itself ceases to exist
as we get lost in the moment.
It seems as though relationships
Are not simply various emotions,
But rather entirely different worlds
Just waiting to be discovered.
Dec 25, 2011
Dec 25, 2011 at 12:38 AM UTC
What do you see in my eyes?
Clouds thunder on by
Leaving my mind
Thick- congested, muffled
In thought.
I wait for the sky to lift
The heaviness off my mind
Yet my endless drifting of thoughts
And dreams are not lifting.
I have yet to hear
when someone looks into my eyes
humor, lightheartedness, playfulness
Instead it's intensity, mixture of deep thought, determination
And sometime concern.
I never share truly what's there.
For me, when I look into my eyes-
I describe it with color-
Green, blue, grays and red
Maybe someday I'll share.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 7:43 PM UTC
Sweet princess of swanlike imperfection,
how darkness embarked upon you,
slowly unbuttoned your dress until you lay bare,
barely there
frozen in denial.
I am overwhelmed with the grief of having had you,
the same grief that has always been screaming
you can run but you can't hide
the same grief I have been trying to bury all my life.
I weep now, my tears
add to the puddle that once was you
and though I tried I simply could not
distract you long enough
from melting.
You
who once gave me the shirt off your back
You
who reminded me I do have a purpose in this chilling life
You
who gave me the infectious gift of endless laughter
You
who softened my heart despite my insisting it be forever hardened
You
who continues to light the candle of inspiration
You
who showered me with ceaseless honesty even when your fears of
hurting me were high and the temptation to lie was loud
You
who I will always remember as being the girl
I gave my heart to that one nineteenth september for
hearts cannot be stolen
The girl
Who showed me why love can never be lost,
Even when we lose ourselves in the afflictions of the other
We are not our afflictions.
Though I am no longer with you
for reasons as obvious as the blue of my eyes you always deemed to be true,
pieces of my heart forever remain
invisibly tattooed on your skin
the places you let me touch even when
your will to live was growing
thin.
Hardened beauty queen of exquisite genius,
do not believe what your mind tells you
the mirror will only show you
an undeserved distorted truth
that is not you, it never will be
and it never was.
I weep here now at the puddle where you lie,
I hope one day your heart will soften with
the same lightheartedness your name implies.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC
So sits it in the darker settlements;
In the glade,
In the long grass,
My whimsy hides, or is hidden.
With the turning trees still visible,
And the near waters just audible,
I remain graspy-greedy,
And long for lightheartedness
Of sunlight,
Of those connection warms.
And so, with steps imperceptible,
Leaving muddled footprints,
I walk on...
Jan 10, 2011
Jan 10, 2011 at 1:54 PM UTC
For let us once
uncloak ourselves,
take this seriousness off.
As if the world would end
on such a missing note.
Just one less frantic tune
to complete the symphony.
Surely one might miss the piccolo
or an oboe, but in the greater scheme,
the concert will go on,
without or without
one missing serious-instrument.
So, strum on
in a vibrant key,
let yourself go
from all your troubles.
Play an uninhibited harmony,
blow a sweeter tune,
one of gaiety,
one of lightheartedness,
one of gentle tenderness!
For fellow word-musicians,
this composition
is much too short,
to play out of tune
most of the time,
as well.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 7:29 AM UTC
Roughly one year,
twelve months,
three-hundred-eighty-three days,
nine-thousand-one-hundred-ninety-six hours,
five-hundred-fifty-one-thousand-seven-hundred-fifty-four minutes,
thirty-three-million-one-hundred-five-thousand-two-hundred-fourty seconds…
It is in these shreds of time that many vile moments will unfold like the last shedding of a snake’s skin.
There is no vaccine for the venom that is soon to occur,
it must simply run its violent course.
It will thin my blood,
and exfoliate me from within so that my soul is raw.
It is neither the lightheartedness of friends,
nor the contempt for those I have wronged that will keep me alive,
as there is no hospital that can cure wounds of this nature.
Time has lost its medical license due to malpractice,
and I once again find myself practicing patience with snakes.
Aug 18, 2025
Aug 18, 2025 at 9:35 PM UTC
the day is too short to not have play time
and lightheartedness can love deeply.
Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 7:10 AM UTC
Whether it’s 5 p.m or 5 a.m, I laugh as loud as I want.
Laughter is a stream of gold cascading through the air.
It is the end all, the ultimate painkiller.
The path to redemption.
Laughter.
Well, it is 5 a.m, but I’m not laughing.
I’ve been reading stories
Of sadness and sordidity,
romance and restlessness,
love and loneliness–all for hours on end.
So much for lightheartedness, there’s none of that here.
I’ve been reading amateur-made stories
That still tug at the deepest recesses of my depression.
One in particular inspired me to write a certain story of my own.
It was sad, it was juvenile,
It was beautiful, it was nostalgic.
The prose in that story should only ever be thought of
In the most proper manner:
shrouded in a hazy mist of wistfulness and bittersweet longing.
Different hues of glowing colors,
Images of fog.
For so long I thought I was through with this part of my life.
The part where I felt so lonely that I could drop dead of touch deprivation.
But it has returned.
Nothing will do to stop this acquired disease.
Mine is a loneliness, such as a thirst
That cannot be quenched with mere drops of water.
It becomes a way of life.
O’ joy, where do you reside?
Oh, forget it. You’re lost on me.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 11:15 PM UTC
Sometimes
life seems like a series of repairs
A broken binding
a fractured wrist
a cracked heart.
My repair kit is always open.
From spare screws needed on touring days
where the sun beats down
a headache my eyes can't hide from
To ratchet straps teasing my hands into frustration
by their inablity to work right.
To the blind faith I hand away my love with
that usually leaves my lips smarting and my heart fractured
just a little bit more.
Repairs **** sometimes.
They **** even more then when things completely shatter.
When things break
there is peace in knowing you cannot do anything to fix it.
Broken bits fall to memory
new things, ideas, materials are assembled
and you are given a fresh start.
In contrast a recurring problem, a repair
is draining on the mind and soul, a constant ache on ones psyche.
A blackhole for my lightheartedness
A wormhole my happiness falls into.
Repairs **** sometimes.
And as I sit here
a ***** driver in one hand, a needle in the other and a airbag of frustration
expanding in my chest
I ponder the worth my projects of "improvement" hold.
How many times do I attempt to fix something that has already failed
countless times before?
When the straps slip no matter how many times I tighten them?
When my board bites my calfs no matter the stiched support I give it?
When my pulse trips despite the words spoken to end it..
Repairs **** sometimes.
And if I ever come across something I cannot fix
I will break it.
Just so I will never have to look at the problem again.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 1:35 AM UTC
Competitively dysfunctional
In lightheartedness and aloof
Teeter tottering
Puddings in the proof
I'm stuffed
Belly all a swell
Nothings best
Nothings left
But to bid you well
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 3:18 AM UTC
I don't wish to have you back
Only to feel that same lightheartedness, without the weight of the world on my shoulders
because someone special
was
just
here
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 11:10 AM UTC