"meak" poems
I hide my face from the world I know.
I wear a mask, a mask to hide.
A mask to hide who I really am.
The mask that hides the face .
The face of a depressed man all alone.
My mask keeps all my insecurities hidden.
Behind my mask I am everyones friend.
By masking my emotions no one gets hurt.
If I were to not wear my mask.
Would people accept me, for me.
Lonely and meak
Or would they only feel sorry for me.
If only I had the courage to take off my mask.
Show everyone who I am.
My mask keeps things at peace.
Keeps the inner me.
From ruining the outter me
If I was to take off this mask who would I be.
Would you know me. Would you like to get to know me.
Let me take off my mask.
We shall see.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
how can we know where lovers go
or when they take the notion
to stop the flow and try to slow
the rhythm of the ocean.
we cannot seek to reach this peak
or lift above that sea,
we are too weak to mug the meak
of their sincerity.
we are alone, together and free.
and here's some stream of thought (that just so happens to rhyme, kinda)...
loopy arousal.
lofty appraisals.
disabled and taken for granted.
in the eyes of the dead,
instead of the usual red,
we decided on green
to dress the scene.
the sound man listened.
the light man leered.
the chef was cooked.
i'm hooked.
heaved on to me like voyeurism
and sought like publishers.
distasteful? yes.
useful. yes.
knowledgeable? sometimes.
lurid trysts and poltergeists
expounding.
multiplication escapes me.
pen and paper **** me.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 10:14 PM UTC
You know what I'm going to miss most...
Are those short chats in Afrikaans class
That share sly secrets and hearts are opened freely
No pretence and no doubt in mind
And I come to realise
It is my last year to do so
It's the sound of the bell
That leads me along each day
That structure every day of my life
Calling me to its whims
To the places I should go
Next year I will be alone.
It's those short walks to each class
Where you get in those last bits of a conversation
You utter words of encouragement to those who are in need
To your fellow girls in green
And for the first time, I wonder if I'll ever see them again...
I've been surrounded by these radiant faces
Each day of my life
For the past five years,
Some twelve
I've walked these corridors with them
I've heard about pieces of their extraordinary lives
We've shared laughs as a class
And inside jokes...
That time when someone was given something in art that made her insane and declare "the tree bit me", again and again
The hazy day in grade eight when we were so delighted by our teachers absence, we caused such a raucous and when she came... That class captain shouted "SHE'S COMING!"
And all was back to normality...
I remember my first cultural day...
Singing to the entire school at the top of my lungs...
I remember my first day of grade 8,
A mousy timid being not sure of where she should go
To a phoenix screaming her name on the stage...
Ready to fly into the skies
And stare down at meak faces
And eyes filled with fascination
You see,
There are things in my school I love dearly
The radiant faces beside me each day, the ones that have always stayed and never strayed away...
The sound of the bell as it structures my day
And those conversations in Afrikaans class...
That keep me sane...
I ponder of what my life will become
And if I will always hold these memories
So close to my whimpering heart...
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 10:43 AM UTC
Do you write poetry to get it all out
Or to hide it?
Do you write because you want to scream
And shout, or because you cant hide it?
I write when im lonely
When the demons inside me get roudy
When the drugs come a'howlin
And my familys looking over me,
Frowning
I write when the slits on my wrists look like the telephone lines i should be calling
But instead of screaming i just end up scrawling
All my pathetic overstated woes
Right here
So facilitate me, you strangers
Love this post. Even though i hate it
Youve no idea the dangers im in
Trying to stay away from that whole bottle of gin
In the corner
Facilitate my anxieties
Show me your all just sheep
Flocking to litterature like the bowls of soup attract the meak
Im not a person here.
None of you really care
Are you even self aware
Do you know That even though its poetry
Theres a person there?
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 5:21 PM UTC
I lost myself
Temporarily
Somewhere along the way
Between daydreaming
And self-discovery
My thoughts did go astray.
Spiritual compass compromised
And mentally so weak
My heart remained steady
My thoughts,
Discreet.
I seemed to be spiraling
Out of control
Treading on the depths of insanity
Desperately
I clung to faith
Only in silence
Did I weep.
Wearing the mask of courage
Yet feeling frail and meak
I tried to fill
The void in my soul
But failed so miserably
Still I carried onward
Attempting to mask the pain
I no longer had a place
My grace gone
Replaced with shame
Mind like molten lava
Body tattered and bruised
My heart heavy
My soul lost.
I lie alone
Naked
Scared
Confused
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 3:43 AM UTC
humble man with traits one cannot fatham,
he walks with his head high,
his legs and back stright and strong,
body with muscles as meak as a millionares pocket,
mind is open but controlled,
assigned with a number as his brothers,
the extent he will go is an infinaite plethera,
for his country without even really wanting to.....
Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 4:41 AM UTC
First page is but the flesh for my thought.
In verse of the forbidden .
Creeps from the depths the nightmare not real so the lamb is taught.
Hello welcome to the tour agony is my name and I'll be your guide.
Certanly you may beg.
She screams but hope is a distant dream so in this void may you confide.
Lets take it to the point were pain is truth and logic has no chance.
Flesh from bone strip the nerve apon severed legs the
twisted thoughts dance.
**** for fun .
Take time in your craft.
Now your lifeless lips embrace mine may I ask was it good for
you ***
Reaper of the weak.
Basment collection cherish the nightmare and destroy the meak.
I need no introduction for im one of many.
Hail the killing floor.
Burn it down if one is left thats one to many.
The ankle bracelet isnt as sweet as your new toe tag.
Love the scent as wind does give a hint of decay.
Tricks desserve treats lets see what I have in the bag.
I preffer black in white to the glossy production.
I linger in chaos a nightmare from which none may awake.
A monster truely needs no introduction.
Jul 8, 2012
Jul 8, 2012 at 6:48 PM UTC
Do I Dare To Breathe? Do I Dare To Speak?
If I Open My Mouth Will It Be Closed?
If Words Decide To Come Will They Be Meak?
You Doubt This "Rough" Life Waiting To Erode
Am I Not Fit To Love? Am I An Error?
All My Questions Are Going Unanswered,
Yet I'm Pretending I Do Not Care,
Life Throws Me Out And Reads Me The Hansard
May I Be Free As The Gull's Lofted Wing?
Am I Not Worthy In Fate's Glassy Eyes?
Songs Play--But Do I Listen To The Strings?
What Am I Missing In Life, I Ask, "Why?"
The Moon Holds Me, A Heart Soft As Cotton,
Stars Smile To Keep From Being Rotton
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 2:32 PM UTC
*Vera's quietude was
her highest weapon.
At least she thought
she was living a life.
A stubborn, meak slave
of her suppressed needs.
Sacrificing her dignity,
and denying ignorance;
she drank up wrathed
amaranthine liquid in one
long sip from the exquisite
crystal chalice. Dreaming
about her gentle femininity
to flourish again. For sure
there will rise one special
bright morning for her. She
walked through the effervescent
garden surrounding their vaccation
villa. Love's true reciprocity vaguely
reminisced and echoed within this
little woman's romantic soul. She
became a shadow of her self,
hating the marble empty halls, lonely
pages in vintage volumes at night,
lying crowds, smiling as statues
stare; without emotions, numb
and notably beautiful. People.*
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 2:04 PM UTC
False sense and even more hopless logic.
The meak bleed the dream and the truth exists for the chosen .
Weaknes is a sin and in the darkness he awaits to embrace .
Shunned like you my child why seek exceptance when the cruel torment
And the so called wicked remain silent inspite there action's?
Part of my soul is never anothers to consume i made these steps alone dont give credit to none that have aided your efforts .
Embrace your desires burn in the flames of want and be truthful while others exist within there lies .
The wind holds more truths for it breathes life were hope only lends to help the weak remain.
Never seek acceptance .
The embrace awaits those not blind within heart.
Do not follow and you will never be led astray.
Truth is always the first victim to fear .
Bleed only for your own existance .
I bare no message to the ignorant .
Just a simple slap to the face harder than you may give to me.
Right your own rules before you become a fool for anothers .
Whispers in shadows .
Dec 26, 2016
Dec 26, 2016 at 3:47 PM UTC
Here I sat on my bed
With a mouth full of empty words and an empty head.
I feel like I just lost a friend
I feel as if nothing matters in the end.
Here I ponder, looking for the things I long for
Unhappy as I seem to be
I don't really know what to hope for
I think Im just sitting here for nothing at all.
Tiring day, yes it is.
Nothing bad has happened yet gone was the ecstacy
I can't force myself to be happy
Or atleast, smile a bit whenever they're staring at me
Here at my blanket contemplating to sleep
Here at my bed looking like a meak
Writing a poem like a real geek
Figuring how to shove away the sadness that creeps
The body got burned out.
The mind got drained.
The soul got thirsty.
I guess I don't know where this is going
I don't have any idea of what I was doing
I'm just sitting here doing nothing
I guess I will be sitting here until morning
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
warm heart,
once brave and strong
now foreboding and weak
poor brave heart
the heart that once beat so strong
now bleats so meak
sorrowful little heart
to small to carry the load on your masters shoulders
now a slave to insanity
irrefutably damaged heart
to weak to continue
to shallow to pump blood
to cold to warm my skin
poor little heart
how long untill you stop beating
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 7:52 AM UTC
Poetry.
Don't worry if you don't have the time
Because it doesn't need a beat.
It doesn't need a rhythm.
It doesn't even need to rhyme.
So if your rap is weak
Or your voice a little too meak
You could try poetry
Come on, take a peek.
Poetry doesn't need story.
No, don't worry, it won't be boring.
All you need is a message.
Something as simple as "Hi"
Or as deep as "Goodbye."
The true beauty of being a poet,
Is if you know how to to write.
Then you already own it.
Just take a chance.
Look through my eyes.
Sep 20, 2017
Sep 20, 2017 at 4:28 PM UTC
Light to the touch, weary and meak
Stumbling over words
That come in heaps rather than syllables.
Bent over and hunched, crumbling
Struggling to breathe in
The air is drenched with regret.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 2:59 AM UTC
When I feel weak,
when all I want is
your voice on the line,
I pick myself up.
Refusing to be meak,
I roar in my mind's eye,
I know what I hold inside.
As I roll my hips and
rah tah tah,
I am whole, and full..
of love, of brilliance.
Like you told me once,
and I shall never forget,
I am not weak,
I just have moments of weakness.
I am strong,
with untold amounts of gold glitter,
shimmering in my veins.
I am resilient,
Thrive is my middle name.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
Broken winds,
Sailing through the grass.
Endless it sees all.
Every broken promise,
Every spoken word,
It carries on it's sails.
Taking prisoner all that is meant.
The meak and the unloved,
It wraps around them,
Comforts as no human can.
I sit here,
The wind blowing my hair,
Lonely I listen to the words it speaks,
As it plays through the weeds.
It tells me of the secrets it knows,
Of the great things that it has seen.
I sit and wonder,
If I will ever see them too.
I sit and ponder for my future,
And gently I whisper it my legacy,
To someday come back to me.
Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 4:31 AM UTC
Come with me
My child, come and see
the world of glory
I offer thee.
A world of riches and power
An empire in the worlds greatest hour.
Your gestures are grand,
But at what price do you offer?
A reign greater than a king,
But what good can come
From the gift that evils bring?
The man who can do
The greatest evil
Can also do
the greatest good.
When Judas betrayed Jesus,
he did it for God to forgive us.
It was his dive into infamy
That forgave Adam's misery.
You would have me be
Your Judas,
Your ******
Your Stalin?
I will not be your fallen,
I will not answer your calling.
The good intentions of misguided men
Are the evils that destroy them.
To you, my child
I will not lie.
It is evil that
Brings men together
And only evil
Will unite men forever.
There is an equal evil
To that which you speak.
It is the indifference of men
Who have the ability then
To defend their weak.
It is not my indifference,
That makes your offer bleak
Instead it is my preference
To remain humble and meak.
I'll tell you now,
I'd rather till and plow
To feed the poor.
I'd rather till and plow,
To stay out of lore.
Id rather sweat and bleed
On my own accord,
Than have you as my Lord.
So leave me be,
Your power is not for me.
Oh dear son,
You are a fool,
Since you will not be the one,
I'll find another tool.
I gave you a chance
To be a part of my dance;
Instead you say
You'd rather be
"Humble and meek."
To me, that sounds like
You'd rather be
Unknown and weak.
Oh dear son,
My will WILL be done.
Don't think that you're
More special than any other *****
Be that as it may,
From my path,
I will not stray.
As I said before,
Your power is not for me.
No, I will not do your chore.
I will not be your man,
I will I will not be ******
I bequeath you again,
Leave me be.
Mar 29, 2011
Mar 29, 2011 at 7:21 AM UTC
She breathes fire
from the depths of her soul,
She shouts victory
from lungs black as coal,
Her nostrils flare
and her eyes, a chilling stare.
She breaths fire,
for all those who admire.
She cracks her wings
and snaps her tail
to the awe of kings
always without fail.
her stomach rumbles
low and deep
making theirs
humble and meak.
Her heart burns like embers
her bones like sturdy trees,
a name no one remembers
that once made armies flee
Fire comes out like a spout
from her mouth
from her throat
from her heart and soul,
fire comes out
and without a doubt
fire will take its toll.
She breathes in smoke,
and kindles the flame,
body dragging low
head to the ground
but eyes to the sky,
She breathes fire to the earth,
and lets the ashes fall to heaven.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
Here we are,
new year again.
Sitting at a table,
surrounded by friends.
I'm standing in a group,
listening to them speak.
I feel like if I spoke,
my voice would be only meak.
You and me,
we grew apart.
Him over there,
he broke my heart.
I'm trying to work through,
to keep a smile up.
But it's only for so long,
before your heart's had enough.
I make small talk,
hangout with friends.
But it's not too long,
before my conversation ends.
I'm staring at a window,
from the outside in.
I'm speaking, I'm screaming,
but I can not win.
The window pane white,
the glass so thick.
The sorrow around me,
is making me sick.
I'm tapping on the window,
I'm screaming so loud.
At the top of my lungs,
I'm begining to pound.
The outside looking in,
I see what's going on.
The happiness, smiles,
and things that are wrong.
But enough is enough,
I wanna tear it away.
Let's break down this window,
even if it takes days.
Sep 7, 2010
Sep 7, 2010 at 11:04 AM UTC
Lying here in pain, alone.
My mind has gone.
I want to be free,
Do you see a stonger person to be made of me?
There is nothing to gain,
So I'll hide behind the pillow to hide from the pain.
Because there is nothing to say,
I have long lost my way.
I was born meak and so I shall stay.
There is no way out,
From under this pain and doubt,
if I lay here I know,
There is nowhere to go but I will lay here and breathe to the rythem of the falling snow.
For the heart I once had and to the child forever dead,
I wish you eternal joy,
Even if it is just a personal ploy,
Time to get myself up to face another day.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 4:16 PM UTC
strength is found in
places
faces
and it graces
haphazardly the weak
and meak
in their hour of need,
not to be mistaken for greed.
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 1:36 AM UTC
October 8th the worse day.
I'm counting down the minutes.
I'm counting down the hours.
Reminding myself of the worse day of my life.
It's the anniversary.
It's hard to move on and just let go.
People tell me I'm torchuring myself,
when in reality I'm just facing the real world.
Whats happened to me does not define me.
But what I have gone through I know has changed me.
Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
I have all these hopes and dreams.
I'm scared you won't be apart of them.
Or she will **** up.
Or dad will end up going crazy, once more.
All over a date.
A date that'll remain in my life forever.
A date I wish to let go but know I can never,
because I've learned and I've lost. This day is a day where the chapter is new and the print is bold. Not meak.
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 3:56 PM UTC
Quietly a whisper in the evening breez
What is this that no one sees?
Could it be your heart is weak
Like a lamb soft and meak.
A cold hard wall You’ve build for yourself
Keeps you save from pain itself
This castle too you’ve build for you
So no one could ever love you true
I roam around the cold stone wall
Trying to find a hidden door
But to my distress there is none at all
What else could I do more?
I turn away not showing the pain
The compassion I have is all in vain
Life was to hard and cruel to you
There is no way you will let me love you true
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC