"mishandled" poems
For years my heart was guarded, protected from the world.
But somehow you have disarmed me, opened and unfurled.
You’ve taken me, broken and damaged, mishandled and hurled .
Yet you see me as delicate and dainty, so precious and pearled.
Everything’s not perfect but it sure is beautiful here.
Your smile so bright with a voice I just love to hear.
Your touch, so gentle I just want to have you near.
I love your energy and your presence, you make everyone else disappear.
He has captured my trust and that’s something not easily given.
He has made all my worries forgotten and all of my heartache is forgiven.
His mission was to win my heart and made his goal clear, he was driven.
After plenty of chances to earn my trust, I’d finally decided to give in.
I feel so loved, so valued, so cared for so protected.
He has won me over and I doubt I’ll ever regret it.
To a man who truly cares for me and satisfies my every need.
For you have saved me from my darkness, and my heart you have freed.
Jul 11, 2021
Jul 11, 2021 at 6:27 PM UTC
Freedom from hunger and freedom from pain
freedom from loss and so freedom from gain.
Freedom to give and freedom to share
freedom from want and that of despair.
Freedom to think and freedom to know
freedom to achieve and freedom to grow.
Freedom from ******* and freedom of liberation
freedom from ignorance and any unknown situation.
Freedom to come and freedom to leave
freedom to stay and freedom to conceive.
Freedom from struggle and freedom of ease
freedom to enjoy and the capacity to please.
Freedom from failure and freedom of success
freedom from denial and freedom of access.
Freedom from illusion and freedom of reality
freedom to become what we are in actuality.
Freedom to live and freedom to die
freedom to laugh and freedom to cry.
Freedom to speak and freedom to listen
freedom to act based on a wise decision.
Freedom from hate and freedom of love
freedom of below and freedom of above.
Freedom of the past and freedom of the present
freedom of the future and what it can represent.
Freedom from war and freedom of peace
freedom to begin and freedom to cease.
Freedom from sickness and freedom of health
freedom from poverty and mishandled wealth.
Freedom from wrong and freedom being right
freedom of the day and freedom of the night.
Freedom to choose and freedom to reject
freedom to imagine what there is to expect.
Freedom from lust and freedom from greed
freedom from anger and freedom from breed.
Freedom from jealousy and freedom from pride
freedom from within and freedom from outside.
Freedom of always not having anything to hide.
Freedom from space and also freedom from time
freedom from attachment and freedom from crime
Freedom to work and freedom to play
freedom to believe and freedom to pray.
Freedom to experience a rebirth someday.
Freedom from the body and freedom from the mind
freedom from the ego and freedom from being blind.
Freedom of transcendence being of the spiritual kind.
Universal freedom is eternal and infinite bliss
we should all therefore be able to realise this.
Nov 21, 2010
Nov 21, 2010 at 1:23 AM UTC
Within creased paper lie binded souls
Firmly held within my clutch ,
Ideology hemorrhaging as non-opposables only bend so much.
Thirsty i reached for a swig of your cup
Open palmed
This vessel mishandled
the contents soaked through bedrock
Its remains a drink for the decrepit.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
The human soul, as vile as bile,
Savage Cruel disturbed infected and distort,
The human soul, obsessed with foul style,
Sinful confused mishandled and extort
Devoid of ethical human feelings,
Inflicted with raw sadistic hatred,
Grotesque depraved dismembered killings,
Ungodly occultism, unsacred
Sickness requires resolute treatment,
Stitches to repair ripped incisions,
Reducing the risk of dismemberment,
Catastrophe fractured by excision
Ceased decaying crippled in dreadful despair
Emerging from darkness, disturbed and aware.
William James
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 7:30 PM UTC
You would be my sculpture.
I'd spend hours on you.
Your face had taken shape,
Your neck was molded new.
I formed your pale legs,
My clay perfect for the fit.
For days I worked on your torso,
For days I only patiently did sit.
Solidifying was real quick,
And I had to be careful.
You could break if mishandled,
I needed to be gentle.
You still had your eyes closed,
So I kissed your dry lips.
But you still couldn't hold me well,
Despite your arms around my hips.
And so I carved your hands,
And caressed them in mine,
Then finally you entwined our fingers,
At last we held back time.
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 8:20 PM UTC
We are free to use our blinkers
Or maybe not, to switch lanes
We're free to lose, of course to gain
Most give less than they share
But we all have freedom to wish, and that of despair
I need some ******* space here, people
I don't care about the extremists in that Texan steeple
I need to think, I need to know
Because apparently we're all given a chance to succeed
Chances to grow
But that's some **** I'll tell you, and the nation
Where there are chains, no one finds your liberation
You must fight for yourself
Unlike those ignorant to an outside situation
I live life as well as I can conceive
I come, and I'll go as I please
I have struggled, **** and some things done with ease
But it's hard to accept things
Stop from beginning to plead
With life, dreaming of a non-failure tattoo on my chest
Freedom of denial and maybe of access
But dreams can be illusions, rather than reality
But it's on the individual to make dreams an actuality
I've seen so many live, and I've seen too many die
But I've found the freedom to laugh loud
And I've let myself cry
But sometimes it's easy to hear,
And harder to listen
For me especially
To act after having made decision
If I hold a gun in the war of revolution
There will be freedom in war, and freedom in peace
I guess we all have things to learn
Like when to start
When to cease
I wish we could all be free some disease
Chronically in perfect health
But that's a fantasy, unlike poverty
And manipulated, mishandled wealth.
An honest politician is an idea I can't conceive
If I'm ever that powerful
Well, it'll have to start with me, I believe
Americans will find freedom from greed
And maybe jealousy, we can keep some pride
But me, just me, I don't have anything to hide.
I'll never be free from space, but maybe from time
But there's things that will happen around me:
Hunger, and crime
If I can find freedom from my body and mind
Then I'll have found what I've been trying to find
To see true colors, looking ahead, forget what's behind
Maybe there's rebirth, being of the spiritual kind
Universal freedom might be nothing left to lose,
But fighting for my freedom is the path I look to choose
The rich old white guys keep driving their Benz's
While I look at my world, my freedom
Through my $20 lenses
v.xi.xi
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 6:15 AM UTC
Your love is like a candle
Covering me with its dim glow
It flickers, it falters
And one day it will burn out
Your love is like a candle
It is dangerous if mishandled
From afar, it looks beautiful
View it up close, and it will burn
But I only have you, my candle
Without you, my life is dark
The melted wax scars my hands
Yet I will not let go
I cannot let go
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
*Broken
does not render someone useless,
nor does it mean that the end has come,
It simply means
that the person has been mishandled,
I believe, that this is the case, for some.
Broken
does not mean hopeless,
nor does it mean that better days,
for the tired soul, will not arrive,
It simply means that the person
has to work harder
to bounce back,
to be brave and stay alive.
Broken,
in itself,
is beautiful,
it means that the person
has lived,
experienced and survived,
Broken
means strength and endurance -
It means, that by a Warrior,
defeat was denied.
By Lady R.F ©2016*
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 6:18 AM UTC
You were the boy always drinking and high on drugs
and I was the girl always falling for bullies and thugs;
in our toxic relationship you smashed me into pieces time and time again,
yet still I chose your "love" regardless of the torture, abuse and the pain.
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 6:23 PM UTC
I'm not as soft as a swan gliding into the poet's lake. I'm not as graceful as a ballerina waltzing in the arena. I am not as calm as the trees attending to your whimsical needs. I am built on ruins; I am something that has been running for decades, and I still think about the house keys I abandoned near the forest; they open the portal to your house. It was my favorite.
I am full of words,
Rotten poetry,
Full of work,
Empty memory.
"I don't know what to write anymore," I whispered. I was a romantic maniac. In me were growing daisies and burnt coffees, orange juices and promised salvation.
It's a funny little detail; now, it's all mishaps and mishandled poetry.
Through the shallows and the shadows, I screamed in horror, and then I felt the mockery of longing.
Oct 13, 2024
Oct 13, 2024 at 11:26 AM UTC
"...Love is more like war than a rose.
They are both deceptively beautiful,
But love spills more than just
One drop of blood when it gets mishandled.
And unlike a flower, love is resilient.
It takes more than a few ****** battles
Fought deep in muddy trenches
To break the bond between two soldiers.
Against all odds, love finds ways to survive
Even the most disparaging circumstances..."
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 7:11 AM UTC
only English has disgraced itself, as a language,
it didn't learn from it's other Latin
orthographers, whether french or german,
just didn't learn from them,
i mean, English, the language,
could have started improving its style,
its orthography, adding accents, here and there,
improving elocution, it's worth the
particulars in harbours, ironically it isn't
a universal language, there are no universal
instances in using it, there are plenty
of particular instance that do require stresses
and other such involvements,
but the six brothers dreamed up too much
technology prior, the Grand Father of the Empire
split the cabbage patch between the five brothers:
gave much to the American son,
much also to the Australian son,
much also to the Canadian,
the South Africa got a part of Europe from the 1940s,
the Caribbean son received a pretty sunset,
the English son got ****** in the ***
and given what the newspapers are covering
i'm really sceptical while only children migrants
are welcomed... ********** the tournament
of who can shove an ice-cube into a teenagers
*** to make **** *********** seem cool?
really sceptical while the prime minister only
wants children... come, you following-up
the hot topics in british journalism?
but like i said, the one chance the English language
had to improve itself, to succumb to the
judgement of the preservation of the Latin via
a - z was to add diacritical marks, instead the internet
emerged and we simply got an Eaton mess...
look how mishandled English is among the young!
omni acronym omni short-script,
omni dyslexia,
lazy lazy buggers... while the Germans are fiercely compounding,
Rindfleischetikettierungsueberwachungsau
(law delegating beef label monitoring) - now let's
do some syllable surgery on it to get a tennis ball
bouncing rhythm:
rind' fleische' tikettierung' sueber' wachungsau' -
or thereabouts in Pomerania - and the French
such hark rather than trill Rs and produce excess
spelling via tongue ties upon tongue ties
(every time i hear it i just hear bubbly blue
bubbly blue bue bue and Moulin Rouge cancan) -
English is shrapnel, empty pistachio shells in comparison,
and yet still the internet proved how ugly
things became... *** LOL (e.g.); and yet i'm
finding it the most effective language for volume.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 4:37 AM UTC
I don't find limiting myself with a title,
There are no boxes left for me to fit in,
Or burst out of....
I find it's excitingly horrifying to be,
This lost.
There's a similar difference between identity and persona,
I am what I am, am I?
What am I?
Do you think the men I have only half loved,
But stroked their meek egos of,
And the woman I have cowered at,
As they screamed my name,
Know what I am,
Is not who I am?
There is a solace to be found in being wanted;
Are you the one they fall to on a late night,
When they are alone and drunk?
What about when their beds are cold?
When they cannot see you because, they are blinded,
By their quest to find themselves more, and you,
And you,
My dear,
Oh my sweet you,
Who is no one in this world,
Are a literally stepping stone in under their feet,
As you wish to be a moon in their stars.
What they don't tell you,
About surviving trauma when your brain is developing,
Is that your world turns to opposites,
Chaos is home
Drugs are home
Hate is home
Fear, is home;
Here secreted beneath my pallid skin,
I try to find them all a home,
Knowing I'll never find mine.
If self care and therapy was literal exercise,
I could bench press all of you, and more,
And save you all;
My motivation to not be broken is stronger than my will to die,
And they'll never know that,
As they try to break me,
Over and over, and over,
And over again.
Everyone's broken.
No sorry, everyone has cracked edges,
Worn
Rusty
Mishandled a few times
Repainted
Cracked
Not broken, slightly damaged.
We, the ones filled with gilded light, and songbirds,
We know the ******* difference between depression,
And eternal internal sadness,
From not understanding love, to
Loving EVERYONE
From seeking solace in the extreme,
To running away from arms that seek to confine.
Where for art ******* thou?
We are not here for your pleasure.
But we are.
How could we be, but anything else?
I tired.
Sorry...
I tried.
Men.
Women.
Whisky.
*******
Driving too fast.
Telling them.
Saving them.
Being everything.
Hating.
Fighting.
Drowning.
Breathing.
Exalting.
Crying.
Pain.
Pleasure.
Writing
This isn't a shopping list.
It's. Not a bucket list.
It's what we do to survive,
When you're born without love.
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 7:57 AM UTC
Some days my body is a trophy.
a dusty display in which I placed all recollections
of sorrowful evenings and birds with broken limbs I collected from the porch
Some days my body is a trophy
a tribute to my skin having smoldered
and made stony by fire-polishing
which may have brought on blisters and a chorus of
"i can live, I can live, I can live"'s to erupt at the mere thought of heat.
Some days my body is a trophy
it is for the one who says
"i went so far beyond her expectations that she lost sight of me"
i cant see him, my vision is hazy after spending an eternity with dust on my corneas and curtains drawn across my forehead,
I hid in myself, detaching skin from muscle and using my armor like a blanket in which I could block out the peering eyes of strangers
Some days my body is a trophy, because
instead of cutting away my blanket like I had,
you folded me back into a swan and I was no longer
crumpled rice paper that had been incorrectly origami-ed
by a fat fingered hurrier.
I was an image.
I am your trophy to the world telling them all
I restored a masterpiece that had been mishandled and cast away
Some days my body is a trophy
That I hold up high
that says
I am worthy
and I will not be left behind
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 2:31 AM UTC
i try to accept that i’ll walk around with this emptiness in me forever
maybe when you mishandled my soft clay body, you left holes within me that can’t be filled
ive never once grown up, have i?
im scared day in and day out, one wrong move
and my aged and hardened body will shatter
the hands that formed me were loving
soft caresses sculpted me into a beautiful being, the image of the divine
entrusted in the arms of children, my malleable body was abused
and mishandled
so i hardened into an ugly ugly thing
gentler, i beg, because im not as soft as i used to be
if you toss me around like that ill surely shatter under the weight of ur anger
i am not the image of my Father
but a reflection of the devils He left me in the care of
you are all i’ll ever be, aren’t you? i see you in me, you’re in me, more and more everyday and my insides collapse at the weight of your sins
and your father’s sins
and his father’s sins
weren’t you supposed to protect me? your hatred has warped my soul into an unsalvageable, unloveable thing, i know it too well
i once thought that my Father delighted in molding my soul in His image
that He gave me His hands, and His ability to create beautiful things
now i know these hands will only destroy
like you did to me
Feb 16, 2023
Feb 16, 2023 at 12:46 AM UTC
i guess i never loved you. i just
needed you. you read my journal
it was written that i
“i hate you”. “no one cares
if you were gone”. you
broke. i broke you
down, to watch you hurting and
tears rolling down. i saw that
you cared. you loved me.
sorry, i said so many times
while you just covered your ears.
i realized, i wielded that
knife to shatter you.
maybe that was why when you
snuck the $6.90 honey-baked
chicken from Cold Storage into
your bag, you said “i’ll look
after us”. leading us illegally
into USS, you said “anything
is possible
just stay with me”. and i did.
slowly, you slipped the reigns
i mishandled from my grip.
there it was yours now to hold,
the beach, carpark, stairwells saying
“the future’s an unpredictable
nature, no matter how hard you try”,
i suppose you knew how
things would have turned out.
easy for you to say, you predicted it
for us. that was how we broke
one
another to pieces.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 11:21 AM UTC
The term “love wins” is true,
Though gravely misused.
The worldly kind of love,
Which is often the attached definition to this term, never truly wins.
This love, which is ****** in nature,
Only leaves it’s participants more empty, and loveless than before.
****** love, when abused and mishandled, taken outside of its intended context, leaves you more empty, drained, used, and void of TRUE love than before you engaged in it.
You will never feel completely fulfilled with only ****** love, and how sad, to base your entire identity on how you like to have *** How empty a life, to march under a flag of your selfish, ****** preference, rather than something truly meaningful.
Love wins, yes He does. love wins, because Jesus Christ, who was love in flesh, won, when He died on the cross and paid for the sin of the entire world. Including the ****** sin mentioned above. Love wins, when you ask Him into your heart, and believe in Him as your savior, the one who made the weighty payment for your soul, so you could spend forever in the presence of God, where the Bible says, there is “fullness of joy and pleasure forevermore.” Don’t chase fleeting pleasure, that lasts only for a moments at a ****** ****** Choose pleasure that nourishes your soul, gives life to you spirit, opens your eyes to perceive the kingdom of God. Choose that. Choose Jesus. Choose love.
Love wins.
Oct 2, 2020
Oct 2, 2020 at 5:44 AM UTC
" I've been abused, mishandled and
Confused.
NOW I return to me, backed to
person who I used to be.
She took me away, Because of her
beauty, and her age.
The elder in me was like a Tiger being
Let out of a Gage.
It had nothing to do with lust.
I'm a man of God . He appointed me
to life up her life. A matter of must.
The months went by very quickly.
I was doing as much as I can, but
Feeling unappreciated wasn't in my
Plan.
My silver hair was dyed brown, to
Look as young as I can.
Finding myself in shopping malls,
NOW never even holding my hand.
This went on for month's.
Dinner's, and lunches was not enough.
Now on her menu, she added brunch.
There's a lot more to be said, but I think
you all got my point.
Maybe I should have stayed in the
Gage.
A man of my age."
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 3:52 PM UTC
At the impasse.
Sometimes, one wishes they never let go of the dismay they feel when leaving love.
For it is this pain that reminds us of things said,
Things felt.
A truth split between two beings leaving nothing but a pure trail of destructive emotion between them.
We never felt the wake we left,
We always felt the earth move when our lips touched.
As forgetful as the moments we confessed in that motel bedroom,
To the blatant attraction we shared as we stared into each other's eyes under the sunrise,
And the note you left for me.
I promised this moment would last forever.
You swore this was reality,
But it was really just a fantasy.
Delusions lead us to a promised future,
But we were really just trading away false dreams for a mutual benefit.
A mended heart will eventually shatter again.
Until we meet again.
Maybe I gave too much to you at once.
An art form in courting lost,
I thought I had a hunch.
Just a mishandled bunch of actions with no conclusion.
Now we depart and tell our own monologues.
And we will always remember our unwritten epilogue.
Its been fun.
Genesis.
I have finally found my way back to land and though 20 years have passed,
I have the ability to adapt and will find my own way.
All my notes have come to you, and we have spoken back and forth through the whispers of the night air becoming a chilling wave of numbness.
This was never my story, this was always ours.
Told two voices over with no true connection,
Other than the ink that was bottled up and threw out to sea.
This is the story of Genesis, and how I was able to find me.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 4:38 PM UTC
see, i'm with the kids, cheese, down with the kids, they write in acronyms and emoticons, i just incorporate many symbols that make sense.
oh, wait, now i know,
it’s because you’d say ‘miu’ for μ
rather than onomatopoeic cow ****
like you say miusic rather than moosic -
it’s the same in russian,
an invisible softening of the m - hence mьusic:
or just the invisible hovering i,
littera non grata - or an iPod:
the mishandled judgement concerning
advertisement strategy.
in other words, given a mathematical
sense of what was being said:
akin to f(x): ь(x + ~y), the Russian indicator
of a grapheme (e.g. æ - strange that
this grapheme should balance on -sh,
as in ash, tongue swallowing antics
in practice); as in the case of mьusic,
whereby x = m, and ~y = u, due to
the insertion of i.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 6:12 AM UTC
The Evilness of the human soul
The human soul, as vile as bile,
Savage Cruel disturbed infected and distort,
The human soul, obsessed with foul style,
Sinful confused mishandled and extort
Devoid of ethical human feelings,
Inflicted with raw sadistic hatred,
Grotesque depraved dismembered killings,
Ungodly occultism, unsacred
Sickness requires resolute treatment,
Stitches to repair ripped incisions,
Reducing the risk of dismemberment,
Catastrophe fractured by excision
Ceased decaying crippled in dreadful despair
Emerging from darkness, disturbed and aware.
William James Stevenson
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 12:17 AM UTC
~for Gordon Matthew Thomas Sumner~(1)
*my poor battered battler ***** too-many accumulated door dings, broken off pieces
circulating in the bloodstream, even inert artery declared dead, no saving it, that’s just an idée fixe, that cannot be fixed
but no matter misshapen my heart,
and roughly mishandled, it’s a boon
companion, we work together overtime,
falling into love with every third woman
we pass on our walks so regular, and
though many wish my heart to abduct,
no dice, no okay, not playing, for time is
shortened, and there are too many of you,
to longer complete for another, term of
endearment undefined*
so many poems to love,
so many to comport and compose,
each a spoke fantasy, a story to unfold,
not forgetting than I am still young enough
to regret skimming to the bottom of another,
and when breath pounding my temples,
swift kick to the atmosphere and do it,
yes, once again…
**do not me critique,
paid my dues as a long distance lover~runner, but know-a-days,
best to live love and run,
for measure I,
by what accomplished
by sunset, a reminder
to say eve prayer song,
and accept that
the sum total of my days
is nearer thy god than thee,,
and to raise smiles upon
the least likely, to break a
throw straight line frown
in a U-turned greeting of love,
however brief,
is a worthy goal
multiplied by the rest**,
the rest of my,
the rest of the company of my
dimming hours
Nov 6, 2024
Nov 6, 2024 at 2:02 PM UTC
There are no adequate words to describe this.
What words can I use to make abuse sound nice?
What words can I use to describe the scarring on this body of mine?
Are they marks of love?
Or was I just mishandled?
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 6:12 PM UTC
Love is often lost
and more than often it's mishandled.
For me I think I've finally seen
the entire plan dismantled.
I've given it a go and man,
it always ends in shambles.
Too much emotion both get broken
what I've taken's more than ample.
I've given up at least for now,
I just can't afford to take the gamble.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC