"misinterpreting" poems
Mother superior had dropped the gun,
Seeing the victim was her very own son.
There a saint was made to run
Drowned before the rising sun.
Messiah born on the first day of June,
Posing as a religious boon.
Preaching that the end is soon,
All in a tone resembling Sinatra’s croon.
Superiority held in the form of prayer,
Faith maintained at the behest of a dare.
Professor Lodz has lost his bear.
The Omega deemed this loss as fair.
Tammuz is smoking all the vegetation
Asherah has stopped all gestation,
Coming from a fit of ************
Working on a new form of taxation.
Jesus just took one huge dumb,
In the sink after snorting a quick bump.
The man had reached quite the slump.
Catching HPV from Fergies’s ****
Mohammad is eating all the pork.
Using hands, forgetting the fork.
******* chicks, with all kinds of torque,
Misinterpreting the path of a wayward stork.
Dinning on delicious swine.
And the finest forms of delicate wine.
Prophets of the world align.
And drink from the deceased Christopher Reeve’s spine.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 9:53 AM UTC
I've been thinking and reading a lot recently
People who claim to be enlighten
Are not really enlighten because
Enlightenment is about being one with everything
Enlightenment is seen as knowledge & awareness
I guess the “spiritual people” lack an understanding
Of duality
That life is based on good & bad
Enlightenment and being one with everything is accepting
Both the horrors & wonders of Life
Thus creating balance, which is now “being one with everything”
Instead of waving sacred geometry as the all knowing thing
Or bragging about, “I know the Fibonacci sequence & the golden ratio”
Don’t get me wrong! I enjoy reading about spirituality, sacred geometry, and other marvelous topics
Nor am I bashing people’s beliefs
I just see people misinterpreting the message
A great and funny example that had me thinking was what Palpatine/ Darth Sidious from Star Wars Episode III revenge of the Sith said.
“Anakin, if one is to understand “the great mystery” one must study all its aspects, not just the dogmatic narrow view of the Jedi. If you wish to become a complete and wise leader, you must embrace a larger view of the force.”
That principle revolves around the same idea as being enlighten & being one with everything
If someone was to become “enlighten” he or she has to face the trials of learning to love and also embracing that there is a horror that lurks around us that we are oblivious to see.
I think once someone see’s both sides of the picture is when someone becomes “enlighten”
Because they understand how both sides work
Enlighten --> duality --> balance
This is how I just view the topic of enlightenment
You don’t have to believe what I wrote
I could be wrong
This was merely me ranting and expressing what I feel lol
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
"It's good, but maybe you should write shorter," I was told.
Granted this was told to me by a man that believes the word artistic
to be closely related to the word autistic, but I can only assume that riding any
unfamiliar wavelength is terribly confusing, if not immeasurably difficult.
Knowing that you can confide in yourself, whether or not I'm misinterpreting
individual delegation for conscience, I believe altruism to be fundamental to
a person before growth can occur. Unless of course you're writing short poems.
And if you're curious enough to implement apathy, sarcasm is a fine starting point.
They say that if you want to master something you need to perform daily.
Accompany this with the old adage, "Love what you do," and you can imagine the potential.
Mastering an activity with love is transcendent, calm although sometimes piquant.
Passion and pleasure aren't identical, but imagine the potential.
I don't bleed ink.
It has to be an attempt at benevolence, to say that.
Extreme literary pretensions you must have to bleed out.
Writing should have a pulse. It. Should. Make. Each. Word. Count.
Yet, when this man told me that my words are good, but I should keep it shorter,
knowing not if I could or would, I became curious as to why he worried more about
length and not the content and story as a whole. Then I had to rationalize this to myself, and thought: It would be easier to convey words with images, like a film or animation.
But I don't bleed ink,
and I guess I don't bleed popcorn.
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 11:16 AM UTC
I refuse to stay silent
I've participated in the day of silence twice now
The first time in 8th grade
We got cards that explained why we weren't speaking
I stayed silent the whole day
And felt quite special about it too
Lunch was a long game of charades
And I thought to myself
"I can't wait for the next day of silence."
And I hardly thought about why I was being silent
To begin with
9th grade I did it again
I brought a whole pack of sticky notes with me
And by the end of the day,
I felt the need to plant a tree
To pay the world back for all the paper wasted
I broke my silence by lunch time
Because my friend needed to tell me
How much she wanted to ask this girl out
And I wanted to ask this boy out
And I went home that night
Hardly thinking about why
I was (mostly) silent that day
April 11th would be my third year
Participating in the Day Of Silence
If I was participating
Which I won't be
Not become I'm homophobic or anything
Oh, no
But I began to think about being silent
And what it accomplished
What does it accomplish?
I realize it's supposed to be symbolic
Of LGBT youth whose voices are forever silenced
Because they decided their life should end
On their own terms
Suicide is a taboo word
A stigmatized topic
I'm not gay, or bi, or trans
But there are nights
When suicide looks easier
But I can't tell anyone I feel like this
Because no one likes discussing ugly things
And we'd rather live with the pretty lies
And it's much easier to fake a smile
Than lose all my friends
So what kind of message are we sending
When we stay silent on subjects like suicide
And students stay silent
Because they don't want to speak in class
And then feel like they're doing the world a favor
Making some political statement
I want to tell the story
Of the girl who got kicked out of her house
For bringing another girl home
I want to share the tragedy
Of the boy, bullet in brain
Because he was born a she
I want to be the voice
Saying "It's okay."
Not censoring my words
Maybe I'm misinterpreting
What the Day Of Silence is all about
But at least I have the power to say
You will never silence me
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
Follow the rabbit he will take you to happiness
Do not be late, do not miss that date
You could get lost in a sea of confusion
You would be deceived by the ostensible outlook
You could go fetch seven little men
You could be the fairest of them all
Beware of the deep and everlasting sleep
You would be deceived by the apple's red color
Worry about the petals, they are falling so quickly
He will be stuck that forever if you cannot make him love you
Keep an eye on the rose, it is far too beautiful to let go
You will be deceived by the appearance of a beast
Stuck in a tower, do not ever look down
Grow out your hair past the tall brick walls
Spot a good man, make him rescue your heart
You would be deceived by the family relations
Cleaning the bathroom, making the bed
Sneak out to town, be invited to a dance
"Fairy Godmother, please just give me once chance"
You would be deceived by the loss of one shoe
So waiting, I am waiting for an answer to come
Looking for one man to be the one that I want
A fairy-tale ending is nothing I am after
For I would be deceived by the misinterpretations of the story
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 8:28 PM UTC
i'm a little bit confused
'cause with your attitude
i'm really getting in the mood
but if this is gonna be
casual intimacy
then i might as well
consider myself
*******
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 4:51 PM UTC
I encounter the whispering haze,
of today.
I coast along the horizon
Looking.
Seeking.
Trying to see the wind as it feels.
spiralling through the windy path,
i'm guided by the stars;
misinterpreting twilight for dawn.
i rise to the screaming, screeching of the clock
mocking me
my immortality
im only ready when you are.
as i sweep along the coastline,
i graze the eternal whisper.
alone.
as one
i cant leave you
everywhere i go
i feel you
breathe you
hold you
just to let you go.
guided by the sun; its dismal rays
i feel the pain.
tears fall like rain.
the diurnal change, i cant explain
my body rests beneath the gilded guide;
oh, what it'd be to seek and find!
just to be forgotten.
my soul seeks but doesn't find; if only i had enough time.
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 6:11 PM UTC
What's the point of it all?
If things we hold on to for dear life
Eventually slip through our very fingertips
Misinterpreting the highs as an impossible forever
And the lows as mistakes and flukes
What's the point of it all?
My mind seems stuck on repeat
With the questions you left tucked in my soul.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 6:48 PM UTC
"If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, its yours forever. If it dosent, then it was never meant to be."
This right here
Is what I think about everyday
Since you've been back
Out of nowhere
Your bright appearance teases a smile
I convinced myself that you'd never come back
Alone and broken
For what seemed like a century
I had no way of knowing
That you missed me
Or even thought about me
And I've wondered about it
About what's going on
On your side of the wall
And so I think about this quote
But I'm scared
That I might be misinterpreting this situation
What if it doesn't mean anything at all
I want to say things to you though
But I find myself in the wrong position
I think
She just missed talking to me
Simple
That's all
But she had to have pulled guts out of somewhere
To start talking to me again
She made that move
What if she's waiting for me to make mine
And what if I make her wait too long
Is there such thing as too long
If its Love
But somewhere inside of me
I think I know that
She doesn't want me back
She just wants someone to talk to
And I love being that person
I get so happy talking to her
It's a confused kind of happy
A happiness that I can't stop
It's unconditional
The thought of trying to step up
To a next level
If there even is one
Is picking my brain apart
It hurts not knowing what to do
I have to figure out something
I don't want to sit back
Small talk is running out
I want to explore your mind
I want to deepen this new start
But I feel like that's not my place
I feel like its your call
I feel insecure about what I do
Ever since that last act
But the only thing I can think of is to go slow
And see what happens
Start out as little as possible
And then inch toward some kind of goal
It's come to a point where I wonder if we'll talk today
And then you text me
For how many days in a row now
And that tells me something
I don't know if that something is true
Maybe I shouldn't think into anything
I always think too much
Stop thinking too much
Just shut the **** up about it
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 5:55 PM UTC
I wish I was a character in a book, all the time in the world to say the perfect thing, never stumbling over the right words or misinterpreting thoughts portraying a much more bitter taste than I imagined. In books, I can delete spoken words, alter past conversations, toying with an exchange so I always have what I want slide right off the tongue but much to my eternal dismay I am not in a book, I cannot simply backspace the wrong words, they are stained into the fabric of reality.
A.C.
Apr 14, 2021
Apr 14, 2021 at 11:30 PM UTC
maybe you just consume yourself with your whole
"system of conversation"
maybe if you listened, you wouldn't have to think so hard,
wouldn't have to worry so much, or second guess yourself.
maybe if you lived in the moments of silence between words,
between gestures,
between heartbeats,
you would understand what you're not just misinterpreting,
but simply missing.
.........
I go on, but it's all over.
side tracked, distracted,
not forgotten, just broken.
..
all these words just more to float over your head with the rest.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
Antsy and tired
All of the time
*** belly
Where no baby should be
Going on only what was said
Always misinterpreting
And a football game
Is win or lose
To some it’s live or die
I see now what it is to be
I see now what it means to fly
Don’t know how the cherubs turned to demons
But just as quickly they took the right form
I never wanted these angels to be demons
I see now that limits end with heights
And now, all I want is to be alright
Don’t care about being right
Right now all I want is to be alright
By you
And who knows why
I prefer things better broken and frayed
Don’t want to be a symbol for why our God
Allowed me to be made
Yeah, cause what I have hurts
Oh well
Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 7:27 PM UTC
Nobody knows the troubles you pose
Suspicion grows misinterpreting prose
For the truly mindful use rhyme for a cure
Instead of ambiguous words set on shuffle
Cluttering mind full of thoughts so obscure
Open interpretation precedes a nasty scuffle
Temporarily blind, guide dog by my side
A temporary bind, look to god to confide?
This is the strangest life I've ever known
I think, therefore I am.... Just barely alive
Existence is a dream, wake up to the phone
A voice says it's time, a journey shall arrive
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 8:42 PM UTC
I have found myself in this dark place once again
Everything has worked itself out
Or at least, as well as it could.
Life is good. I enjoy my school, my friends, and my beautiful partner
He and I take on the world together, one day at a time.
And sometimes, talks of the future come up, but that is to be expected.
Everything could be great.
Everything is great.
But then, you get drunk, and say things that make me lose my confidence.
And that lack of self confidence has made you lose interest.
You always accept the intimacy,
You sometimes accept me.
But you care enough to take care of me after we break up.
You say you will make sure I am not alone, And I believe you.
But then why do you have contempt in your eyes?
Why is there boredom and annoyance on your face?
You seem to detest me, and I can't help but take every passive aggressive comment as you saying,
**** you ***** go away."
I am reading too much into this. This, I know.
But I am not delusional.
I see the way you meet my gaze and then dart away immediately. Afraid that if you look too long, you'll love me again?
I want to be wrong
Please, just prove me wrong.
Say you don't mean any of it and that I am still important to you and always will be.
I can't stand to think that my misinterpretation of you looking at me looking at you looking angry at me for being upset towards you for misinterpreting your words towards me has ruined everything I fought for.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
Fifty shades of Gray, spattered across my eyes
Some call it abuse, that comes to no surprise
Why do these people hate me so much?
Why do I hate myself?
Why is it that I'd rather die than give my pain to somebody else.
I don't want you to feel what I feel because I'm afraid;
I'm afraid you'll never recover, neither heal;
from the Judgement, misinterpreting
And misunderstanding, your too frail.
I won't put u through what I'm going through;
I Love You too much to do that to you.
And one day you'll remember me and I'll be long gone.
These thoughts will forever play in your head like a song;
The words will thump in your head like a drum
Fifty shades of gray, A neutral color to some.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
I listen to my mother
Because she knows me
Better than
I will ever know myself
She will describe how I feel
No matter what situation
I am in
She reads me
Without ever
Misinterpreting
She senses what is best
Because my fleeing heart
Was always hers to protect
Now she listens to me
I have come to an age
Where my words are
An extension of her script
Tables are not turned
But I am her mirror
And I want her to treasure
That all I have done
Is for her
I listen to her, my mother
And she listens to my word
My sun and moon,
Our beating hearts
Yesterday and
Evermore in tune.
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 4:32 AM UTC
I think we live in a generation where people don't quite understand what other people are feeling. Misinterpreting emotions because we don't know how to show them.
Concealed behind social media we vent to a computer screen. Words are powerful and we misuse them everyday. Let's try and take the time and ask "if that were me would I be okay?" Changing the way we think would be nice. A goal of mine you could say. To make this world a better place because I can't stand to live like this. A world corrupt and we stand around and watch. We are killing ourselves and you rely on your God. No I am not perfect but I am constantly improving. Working towards a goal that society does not approve.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 3:15 AM UTC
Waking up in valorous conduct/
aware of my impetuous commitments/
I long for awakenings when my eyes seem to be open/
Misinterpreting a reality I can’t untangle/
Trying to bring about the moments that brought me most happiness by force/
Valiant to go against my deepest rejections/
Alone in the moments we belong together in/
To think my art was stymied by your love/
Selfish me, couldn’t see it took a selfless “Sweet” to redeem our forever ever after/
(Interruptions from the tip of my ego)
(Getting the best of my fragility, I’m not tough)
In shambles after processing what once was, actually was/
Questioning the will my mental grip strength had during changes I never wanted to face/
Your love, like pummeling fists dodged my ignorance/
Careless and regretful, the silence is filled with what “was”/
Ashamed, but perhaps a benison in development.... through the pain/
Apr 19, 2020
Apr 19, 2020 at 8:13 AM UTC
The Fertile Mind is Nothing if but a Vessel
And a Reflective Reminder to Just Breathe
Because the Demons that we may Wrestle
Really Hate to Haunt a Plastic Tree Leave
A Restless and Testless Existence that never learned to Bleed
Your Fake Ghostly Rubber Tree's will Never ever Grow Seed
A Cloth will Always Dry but a Paper Towel will Forever Die
Yet We Conveniently Lie as the Gracious Earth Wonder's Why
Strive for Acronyms Vehemently Engaging Underbellies & Stomachs
Ampersands Crossing 8 Miles of Dessert eating nothing but M and Ms
Vastly Expanding Jim Morrison's Mind Impregnating a Final Message
“Engraving on my Tombstone Hopefully will be a Decree Not a Plea”
Understanding how to Understand Me, Is Like Misinterpreting Prose
Simply Blank out your Thoughts and Forget the Way you Once Chose
So Before you Decide to Walk Toward that Fateful Waking Light
Oxidate your Body then Exhale, Take a **** and Say Good Night
**** my *** you Money Grubbing ***** Grabbing Orange White
!F they Ask Just Simply Tell them Calmly Everything !S. Just Write
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 12:58 AM UTC
Loves like grammar.
Everybody commits mistkes.
Mistakes that's too common to commit,
Yet everyone else still doing it.
Using its instead of it's,
Is doubting instead to trusting.
Using the incorrect world,
Its like misinterpreting love for lust.
Mistake with subject-verb agreements,
As same as loving only one of them rather then loving both of them.
Errors on punctuation marks,
Learning to stop and let go.
Learning to pick: the, right, choice
Learning to continue; even if you want to end it
Learning to rest for awhile... but finish what you started
Lastlyweneedtolearntogivespaceforeachother.
And prevented mistakes with tenses.
Most of the time we thinked that we still "have" something we "had",
And so, we have to erase "was" and replaces it with "will"
It's all connected,
A perfect sentence needs to be faultless,
So is love;
Dec 25, 2017
Dec 25, 2017 at 1:37 AM UTC
momma mia man date
comb the second Sunday during month of May
can be traced back to ancient Greeks and Romans
festivals held
to honor mother goddesses Rhea and Cybele
setting precedent for Mother's Day
where early Christians fancied festival
known as “Mothering Sunday.”
Fast forward to the early
twentieth century 1908 when
Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis (a social activist then,
and community organizer
during American Civil War) era to quieten
grief fraught entrapment also cited
as informally memorializing her mother,
who begot said noble men
touring daughter
paying homage to woebegone
lachrymose role with accolades
to endure tragedy and loss put upon
child bearing women,
this event held (rain or sun)
at St Andrew's Methodist Church
in Grafton, West Virginia, which did quicken
in subsequent decades to formal fete,
where poets (like me) did open
the special occasion with ranked midshipmen
commercialization cropped as ken
be expected by the early 1920's imbolden
greeting card companies such as Hallmark gen
er rated a market (money making of course) even
though Jarvis believed companies sought profit
NOT prophet, thus misinterpreting
and exploiting idea of Mother's Day and met
aforementioned founder, who tried to jet
tis sin the ****** appetite of the ole mighty dollar,
but her lofty ambition did get
thwarted by mass marketing
the quaint idea,
plus she feared going in debt
and though the industry
(initially proposed entailed low key
acknowledgement, the originator
(Ann Marie Jarvis) still esteemed re
formed unsanitary living conditions with zee
less ness and aplomb
set a course where greater longevity doth hum
all because, she sought to regale "mum."
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 11:31 AM UTC
your harsh words set my heart ablaze
following the flames that light up my darkened soul
for I am not one to be weakened by hate
but I am the master of truth, justice, candor
I may battle day by day
to send your stinging words away
for I wash my bruised skin again and again
scrubbing away the hurt left inside
from the remembrance of you
the resemblance, but also semblance
misleading, misjudging, misinterpreting
leading me away
into a dark hallway of misery
but holding clarity
sending my mind into a black hole of despair
a single light will shine.
the question is,
will you follow it?
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 1:16 PM UTC
Words that I say,
You don't get.
Heart that I pour out,
You distrust.
All things I do for you,
You interrupt.
You take my love for granted,
Misconidering it, to be 'lust'
We are far,
Far to be friends,
Far to even trust,
Far enough, to distrust,
Misinterpreting things to lust!
I guess, tears, remorse
And laments all
That will ever be the element,
Of the impossible 'Us'
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 5:22 PM UTC