Marinates poems on Hello Poetry

Zhivagos Muse Nov 2014

It comes to you in your darkest days,
disguised in a familiar face,
It whispers words you've waited for,
uttered with eloquence & grace.

It touches your skin, holds your face,
Then consumes your self worth without care.
It hides behind a mask, planning & scheming,
leaving you unaware.

It hugs you as you dry your eyes,
it fills your head & heart with lies.
It utters hollow apologies with no intention of change,
It shouts vulgarities in a crowded coney island,
Filling you with embarrassment & shame.

It fakes compassion as you wait to hear,
whether you may indeed have cancer,
You question why it chose you?
but you never get an answer.

It prays at every meal,
mocking God without fear,
It attacks your reputation, your humanity,
and all that you hold dear.

It hides behinds friends, half truths,
and a sea of endless lies,
It marinates in every excess,
so it never has to open its' eyes.

You cannot give it love, expect empathy, or regret,
It is never satisfied because its true needs are not being met.

I'll never understand the cruelty,
the why or even how,
But some things have no answer,
and it no longer matters now.

Despite what has been DONE TO ME,
This I will always implore,
Evil may destroy this world,
But FAITH, HOPE, & LOVE
WILL win the war.

(* never be so quick to judge others...you have no idea the hell they have gone through or are going through & remember abusers will show you only a morsel of the truth, they will tailor everything to make it seem as though they were the victim...I know because it happened to me. My hope is that this may help someone out there to know that you will survive, & in time, thrive. Sure I hope someday I receive a heartfelt apology, but I won't be holding my breath. It's heartbreaking what drugs & alcohol can do to someone. You know who you are. Please, get help & stop hurting others.
*and no, this is not about Mozart.
...a year ago I didn't want to wake up...today my art is headed to the 2015 Golden Globes...thank you for taking the time to read this.)

#love #lies #alcohol #drugs #abuse #hope #faith #cancer #evil #liar

Ciarra Reneé Jan 2014

Smell the Roses

you strive for perfection
gotta be the smartest
gotta be the best
A's and B's are the only grades your eyes will view
you, check your Parentlink religiously
20 hour days in attempts to prove something to someone who probably doesn't care
no social life, no
your best friends are Microsoft word and flash card apps
a boyfriend?
why of course his first name is no, last name homework... but ever so often you cheat on him with a good nights sleep
a good nights sleep that replaces the memories you're supposed to be making
the high school years you're supposed to be enjoying
late nights partying?
more like late nights cramming
Saturday matinees ?
more like Saturday SAT prep
and when you finally cross the finish line and get your diploma it all settles
it all settles in that no one cares
you go to college and there's a campus full just like you
a bunch of high gpa's and low social lives
and you still have yet to realize you're just a factory worker in training
you treat college just like high school
a 21 year old unemployed ****** with expectations that have just been kicked in the stomach
nose in the books as apposed to the sky
no dreams just harsh realities
it all marinates with you mentally that you just studied a complete 8 years of your life away when you become a nothing but a statistic
no longer the best
no longer the smartest
an average salary
an average job
and an average life
with no memories to reminisce on
no crazy college stories to tell your boring spouse
no cute high school sweetheart stories to tell your boring kids
and now all you have is emptiness and a cubicle
because while preparing for your future you lost sight of the present
in attempts to be a young adult you forgot to be a teenager
you climbed uphill mountains to live the middle class life you avoided and now you're just hoping that someone will take you seriously when you put "Honor Roll student" and "passed Calculus" in your obituary because other then reproducing a couple more pencil pushers you've accomplished nothing
and no, no I'm not pessimist I take things for what they are
and living unfulfilled, or having no "yolo" moments in your life is not something that should be taken lightly
we, break our backs and blister our hands to end up making 30 thousand dollars a year
and for what
to be another functioning member of society
did you ever have dreams?
or did practicality and necessity beat those useless obliterating hopes?
the only momentos you have from your wild years is your diplomas and your regrets
there is no praise for the high school student who partied away their future
but next to alien species finding a healthy balance is the least known thing to man
so
live fully, live honestly, shine brightly, fulfill every hope, fill every crack, fold every crease attempt every dream, leave your doors open, for someone less fortunate then you couldn't unlock one if they got a miracle
life slows down for no one.
don't forget to take a moment, to stop and smell the roses.

kenye Jun 2013

O (Level: Oepdipal)

A surrender to the Supermoon
   The larger than life presence
   Plucking my heart strings
Got me caught up
   In a dark **** fantasy
   About a little death and rebirth

If I go down
   it better be on the divine mother
   Level: Oedipal
Submission towards her power stance
   slipping my fingers up Mother Nature's dress
   In child's pose

Inhaling her presence
   she pulls me to the clouds
   to get to the Holy **** of the sky
To be the mother-******
Tracing infinity loops with my tongue
   trying to see how many licks it takes
   to get to the center of innocence

Back to before it all began to end

Flooding the floors
   She bathes me in moonlight
   The illumination marinates my little transgressions
Drowning out the light pollution
   Purifying my mind
   with the ***** things she whispers
Swaddled up in a bulletproof aura
   Swallowed whole by the void of existence
   I've never felt more secure

Inspired by Robert Grave's "The White Goddess" Check out my post about the Waxing moon Goddess archetype I posted last week titled ")" http://hellopoetry.com/poem/--945/

Jessi S Feb 2016

Another Disappointment

Repetition of disappointment.
Am I doing something wrong?
I’m perfect in one moment,
But I’m not so perfect for very long.

Maybe you felt like you needed to be lifted
So you grabbed a pretty face
And my emotions shifted
To a more comfortable place.

And when you decided you didn’t need me anymore,
Or maybe you became distracted,
You let our beautiful plans hit the floor
And now my trust is further impacted.

I finally let another one in
But I should have been happy alone
Because they bruise me from under my skin
And now its dark where the sun once shone.

You stole what I thought would be home
But I guess It was never mine, you must have plenty spaces.
I hope you enjoy your stay, wherever you roam,
And take pleasure in the twisting faces.

Lifeless bodies left behind on your trail,
The attention must feel great.
Unfortunately, everything becomes stale
But by then I will be numb, melancholy marinates.

Jack D Serna Dec 2015

Hugs

A soft compression to the chest
Marinates the muscles of the breast
Of flesh and blood hearts are brazen
Flush of oxytocin--abrazan.

O tender heart that teeth console
Stab a fork and set it free
Savor the faint beat of dole
Soak in spirits--purity.

Return, the warmth lingering,
This conductor's menagerie
Into the grounding state again
For a woman to hold is dame.

Amnah Alamir Apr 2017

Shadows

Just between us,
shadows,
you whisper
sounds of regret,
the same way my tongue
marinates in vowels,
and 'my sorry'
lies as heavy and hollow
in my Chevy trunk
among the thousands
that I have kept.

Dylan B May 2017

Alas, I Cannot Cook

Billions of women
Have known how to prepare a steak.

Libraries of recipes,
A deep glut
Tucked neatly into ancient scrapbooks
Boasting of delicate marinates, spells and
Sleight-of-hand saucery

Like witches hunched over a cauldron
Stirring,
Kneading with the same spoon
That their grandmothers fashioned.

Taste,
True taste, is a subtle dance
Between giving one’s all
(Every fiber, every ingredient)
And knowing the appropriate spice
Ever-proven to suffice
By meticulous, observable
Experimentation.

Billions of women
Have had remarkable taste,
Memorialized and passed down in a scrapbook
Tucked under the cupboard.

There is but one of these
I cared to read.
But it is covered in dirt,
Encased in marble,
And nowhere near the cupboard.

jigyasa Apr 2018

"you don't mix well"

i'm an exotic spice
you cannot just mix me in any fruit-bowl
or use me liven up a dead dish

listen.

i've been made to salsa with the red peppers
to sizzle with the onions
i'm not a scattering of freaking doughnut sprinkles
oh no
i melt with the honey that marinates your soul
the warmth of cayenne that leaves you craving more

so take that into account the next time you compare
pancakes to paella

#selflove #food #uplifting

Adam Kinsley Oct 2018

[Untitled]

Do you see the dissension within my eyes?
I stumble throughout this feverishly manipulated age
The minds of children are enslaved by their reflective masters
We yearn to destroy what Reason had painstakingly divulged

My intention marinates in this silence
I deafen its egregious cries
This past will not pass
While the mirror mocks my demons and I

My once lively will recedes beneath my synapses
These demons wonder why they still wander
With two eyes, I had to see too much
Indeed, I sold their sense of solace

Our lives are fevered dreams
Unspoken in their indignant dejection
Filled with volition, we reap what we sow--
Imprudently awaiting our own funerals...

This pieces looks inward [within oneself], then outward towards society, and back again to the self.

Anonymous Freak Jan 2020

Practice

Being perceived as normal is an art.
My PTSD Atypical brain
is accidentally obvious,
and so I must be practiced and calculated
to stay hidden.

It isn't the cute eccentricities
that give us all mildly embarrassing quirks
that keep me up at night
obsessing over my behavior.
It's the trickle of trauma that seeps out of me
and marinates in with conversations
that should be normal.

It isn't random shoulder shaking sobs
or public screaming matches,
or anything obvious enough
to merit the stares of passerbys.
It's more
a bump in the road,
a single tight knot
in a strand of yarn,
or a piece of eggshell in pancake batter.
Not terrible enough to upset the balance completely,
but your thumb runs over it repeatedly a few times
in annoyance
because you can feel it just enough
to know it shouldn't be there.

It shouldn't be there.

I'm trying to practice
being average.
Practice being quiet when I should,
and learn the pieces of my life
that were traumatic
so I can hide them enough
to get by in a daily vanilla life.

But it's exhausting.

Well meaning people
only slightly older than me
Will laugh what they believe is an all knowing laugh
and assure me
that there is no normal.

#ptsd #life #overcoming

jeffrey conyers Aug 2021

The Kindness You Show

Remember this, the kindness you show?
Will come back your way?
Kindness can make a mean or evil person change their way.

And it's because of the kindness you show.
Kindness, like love, has the power of growth.

Think, of that enemy, you couldn't stand?
Think of your family and friends shocked they know your best friend.

Kindness, marinates, within us.
That just reaching out with it eventually keeps affecting us.

It's easy to be mean.
But at the end of the day, it didn't change a thing but the smile upon a person's face.

We have been told to **** them with kindness and you defeat their purpose.

Dennis Willis Jun 2021

This Poem is So Alone

It marinates in it's own would be vibe
bounces off things it has collected
on its constitutional walk
across its living page
written in literal light
salt-ily stored in silica angst
another glowing miracle
aetherically transported
naked as the nano 'twas born
appearing on random pages
of hopeful wisps all wishing
clumsily

— The End —