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Angela Rose Oct 2017
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
This little poem is something I wrote back in high-school, but is one of the pieces I am most proud of and most impressed with myself over.
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.
Mike Fashé Jul 2014
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
What do you think? Don't argue, please!! I didn't write this to start BS.
Just needed to write my thoughts somewhere.
belbere Oct 2016
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
*******.
don't you love it when you're thinking one thing and the other person is thinking of something completely different?
Charlie Chirico Oct 2013
"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.
Theia Gwen Apr 2014
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
I've been thinking about the day of silence a lot recently, and personally I think it's *******. It's a good idea and I think that LGBT suicide and suicide in general needs to be more well known but spreading a message by being silent just seems counterintuitive and stupid to me.
In case you don't know what the day of silence is, its website described it as "The Day of Silence is a student-led national event that brings attention to anti-LGBT name-calling, bullying and harassment in schools. Students from middle school to college take a vow of silence in an effort to encourage schools and classmates to address the problem of anti-LGBT behavior by illustrating the silencing effect of bullying and harassment on LGBT students and those perceived to be LGBT."
ALamar May 2016
Sometimes you can get so high on possibility
That reality becomes imaginary
Plans predicated on what could be
Are as superficial as dreams when we sleep
You’ve heard the saying
Don’t count your eggs before they've grown
If you don't then you'll watch as the repo man arrives
And detaches all your belongings from your home
Courtney Joy Nov 2012
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.
how do i leave my souls mate
Kaleidoscopic holdings drawn on from tumbling affairs forge indignant beliefs in the minds of those trapped in the spinning, weightless meanderings of an archaic and broken system designed with the sole intention of scattering and misinterpreting the grandest illusions life has to offer.

Voided of emotion, and self-respect, the paces of lost clergymen slow, as the prospect of death, and consequential eternal life, grow heavy on the soul, burdening the individual with corruptive notions of value and worth, crippling and manipulating the concept of existence until it becomes no more than a sacrificial placeholder for faith and faith alone.

…In the beginning, man created god, and what an awful error in judgment that proved itself to be…

Poisonous words in the form of prayer, spew forth from the mouths of anointed men, selected for their passive obedience, displayed in the wake of advancement, convoluting and clouding the acceptance of the self, promoting, and proclaiming the right to act as gate keeper to the doors of oblivion, as though they possess some unknown measure of good and evil, omnipotent in the face of the laws of man.

A charitable act of aid comes at the cost of the recipients soul, as churches buy up rights for those deemed morally conceited, holding no one, but a forgotten creator, to blame for the disgraces and disappointments projected onto man, by man himself, only to register, very briefly, for the opportunity to promote salvation, and its slipping worth, all in the hopes that such extrapolated thought may produce a golden tickets of sorts, granting one passage to the holy land, where one can remain unbothered by the wandering souls of unbaptized infants.

Poking holes in contraceptive thoughts, using pin sized ****** extracted from the backside of small boys, prodded and sodomized by glorified rapists who mask horrendous deeds in the guise of holy writ, condemning the act of gratification through the means of oneself, simply with the intent of diminishing an individuals potential in finding some form of earthbound nirvana, believing that such an experience could cloud and corrupt man’s view of god.

For a system designed with the intent of salvation, it becomes confusing, and appears at odds with the message, when most only see perpetual damnation, banning bummers in an act of spite, seeking out wars for the sake of a territorial fight, miles Christi, a paradox it seems, one stripped from Walt Disney’s bigoted dreams…

Ephesians 6:14-17New International Version (NIV): 14:Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, 15: and with your feet fitted the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16: In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17: Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the spirit, which is the word of God.
"The greatest destroyer of peace is abortion because if a mother can **** her own child, what is left for me to **** you and you to **** me?"...Mother Teresa...Hell's Angel (Christopher Hitchens)
Pdub Jan 2015
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.
L Smida Jan 2013
"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
Alina Apr 2021
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.
Lucy Tonic Dec 2011
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
and long since abandoned suitably
   casual to figuratively hack
an itch to be scratched, cuz social security -
   social anxiety did high jack -
qualification to received unearned income,
   boot aye and da missus lack

financial plenti tude, and oft times
   scrounging along the scrim edge line of life
   doth make me postulate to sever ties
   with the living courtesy of a big mack
truck, but that induces immediate revulsion,

   since that modus operandi
   would leave a messy track
thus, the follow ah share
   as this good humor man
   feigns bing out ta whack!

sum *** pull cull me a schmart ants
e'en though i lack an iPhone,
   five, but take
  a fox trot ting pooch cha cha chance
at let mooch hutch
   ah dog gone words dance
across the screen 4u 2 glance

and envision this chap
   to bow, wow and en-hance
springing sprightly
   like a human lance
hoping nada
   to get a rip in his pants
so...kick back n try
   to comprehend this bard *** rants.

GAINFUL EMPLOYMENT QUEST
sprinkled e'er so lightly with ra asp pea common
snazzy, snarky, snaky
non constricting boa tock nickle terms.
akin to a termite ex
   pending energy thru wood to bear

   bore ring search for income quite
   arduous, andslow as a bookworm
   burrowing some great literary tome
back the day, the slogging chore
unsatisfactory, thus, soon tubby sue pine
   wordsmith thought (in jest) to spruce quest per

   my non-conformist
   poetic je ne sais quois
   x cell lent cover letter de jour
for hue to access and me to entertain
   as a minimum less or more
and then...into circular
   filing cabinet ye will store
this non-formal reap ply,

   which email
   will take an cyberspace tour.
pixar could nada pay enough
   for this trainer
   of apple chomping antz
so i wonder if any chance
   whisker of employment

vis a vis thru
   this contrived virtual
   toy story qua ratatouille poetic brew
could materialize
   into a likely chance
such an idea generates me

   to shrek out with excite
   ment and dance
just in case a glimmer
   of some prospect exists
for self anointed bard,

   one who dislikes formality
now presents his technical skills
   which he hopes to enhance
p'raps e'en earn enough moolah
   to sight see the arc d'triumph,
   louvre, paris france

i offer the following poetic expression
   for ye to take a glance
and mebbe help
   this intuitive **** sapiens
   per his income
  to expand and en-hance
which byte size bit torrent humor
   might Putsch chew in a permanent trance

after misinterpreting this mishmash
   as some rave and rants
per even a part time need exists
   please let me share
   some positive stance
with subtle intent
   to place me as worth hiring,
to sway some au currant
   series electronic charge
and ideally affect hypnotic trance.

i betcha never chanced and to reddit
   perhaps you espied a similar post elsewear
   like this iambic pentameter electronic wire
from a boyish looking
   blood muggle father although up in years
(whose nonpareil courage
   to face Voldemort never does tire)
and two near grown girls,
   would consider him a worthy hire

less so to rake in gobs of moolah,
   but to satiate
   this unquenchable hunger and thirst
for further (ahem)
   bits of computer know how to acquire.
although this cover letter of sorts
   conveys teensy weensy, itty bitty
byte size actual work experience
(per this older mist ta lives a boot
   thirty plus miles

   northwest of philadelphia city)
nonetheless, i hanker
   (NOT to be confused with HACKER)
to employ my computer skills, plus bits of moxie
playing at nearby Roxy
burrow, which prompts the following ditty
to express interest to apply manual
   and mental rooted tasks
   ala computer trouble shooting
some ascribe passe or as nitty gritty

on a par with
   the secret life of one walter mitty
whom destiny protected and took pity
merely meant to be silly
yet also an attempt to be witty.
yes no matter how many miles by car
(actually your company might be within
   dead man walking distance)
this nectar savoring opportunity

   would not be considered to far
to use my acumen and interest
   and technologically spar
using graphical user interface programs
   to get unstuck from virtual soiled feathery tar.

iambic pentameter might be a faux pas
and not traditional standard
   genre for a cover letter
i see no reason with rhyme
   why non-conformist modus vivendi
cannot serve as modality

    communicate pursuit
as a computer repair technician go getter
which honest to stem -
   a grounded confession
hopefully affects grim prospects against
   other respondents at least a bit better.

this budding pure breed
   mud half blood muggle prince
born (whom most think me
   full o wart colored hogwash) - yea
truth seeker for employment
does reckon the following poetic way

devoid of employment vitae,
   since that would show a dearth
yet decided to resort to verse
   to induce a byte size mirth
of requisite (sought after)
   technical flowery expertise,
   i do possess the attributes well worth.
Liora Jensen Jan 2015
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.
where did you go? will you be back soon?
Drifton A Way Feb 2014
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
Christian HM Oct 2014
I took a step outside into the cool of the dark early morning. I proceeded to sit on the steps outside of the front door. I stuck my hand in my right pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I lit my cigarette and gazed at the stars. I gently puffed out a cloud of smoke. I felt wonderful. Last night was a disaster, and I felt wonderful. My parent’s were screaming at each other aimlessly in the wilderness late last night and I felt wonderful. I feel so relaxed.

I was walking down the hallway blasting music in my ears, trying my best to ignore the group of obnoxious boys behind me when all of a sudden I saw him. There was a crowd of people going back to class from lunch and I saw him. He was with a couple of other people when one of his friends decided to tickle the crap out of him. It was childish, but it looked so cute to me. He had these perfect cheeks, and I could just die when he smiled. In return I smiled. There was a gap in the crowd, for a moment, and while he was laughing he looked back at me. Straight at me for a solid moment. The smile never left his face. Nor did mine. Then the moment died off and things carried on. I can’t begin to recount how many times this had happened. From the first day I arrived at this school, I saw him there, I think in the office. We made eye contact constantly. Like this mutual unspoken “hey there”. But never have we spoken. He always looks so happy. I'm happy.

Sometimes I pretend. I pretend inside my head, so no one can see it. It always happens when I am listening to music. The more bass, more rage, or more passion the song has, the better. Often I have powers. I destroy things, but not always to hurt people, but mainly to get a message across. If I had powers like that and I used them, I believe more people would listen to me. Power = attention. Other times, it’s as if I’m living in a musical. I get up on the Lunch table and start belting a song, and everyone is in a trance. Once again focus. When I think about my self, my family, my friends, my romantic relationships, and my social ability. I think I am exceeding, that I am doing great. But I’m not. It’s so hard. People are so hard. I have so many things that I want to say, but once I speak, it gets “translated” unaccordingly to my thoughts, and I am so frustrated. Why can’t people just get me the way I see myself. Does everyone go through this? Do we look at ourselves as these three dimensional complex beings because we see our whole picture all the time, and when we look towards others, do we see only crumbs? Minuscule pieces, to what is a whole person, but were afraid of misinterpreting the design so we steer away or purposely destroy them? Life is so unbelievably difficult.

My body is rushing. I am always rushing. I'm excited. Oh my god. I saw your face. Excited. I cant help but gaze all over you again and again and again and again and again, all within seconds. Hormones. I can’t help but think I am so ugly. Not because that’s what everyone thinks about themselves, but because I am so big. I can’t even fit clothes that I would just die to wear. Hormones. Ooh but I saw you again and that thought whipped away. I am so happy. I can feel it. Physically. All over. Hormones. I just want you. I want you every way possible. I want you physically. I want to know you mentally. I want to be comfortable around you.Hormones. Lust.

These last four pieces were just thoughts. There was no reason to write them down, but i did. Two of them were based on Infatuation, which is a feeling I feel strongly and have felt a lot as of recently. So of course, if I scrape the surface, that is what I definitely feel the most passionate about, and it’s intriguing the way those feelings are released but also heightened when I write about them. Another piece was about the way I view myself along with how not only I deal with people, but the way I assume other’s also feel about each other. It also gives light to my depression, which I didn't even realize until I reread the paragraph a few times. But the first piece also gives in to the depression a little bit too. It sounds as though I feel great and amazing, and to an extent I do. See, I detach myself way too easily, and that’s what the piece really means. I've dealt with problems similar to that way too often for way too long now. All that I am capable of doing in a constant motion is to focus and take care of myself. And I don’t want to be this way, but family truly pushes me into that hole. Without a doubt, after analyzing the pieces, I sound a lot like a ****** teenager, and If that is what I am so be it.
I am sorry. I am so sorry.
GAINFUL EMPLOYMENT QUEST

Pixar could nada pay enough
   for this trainer of apple chomping antz
so I wonder if any chance
   hello Morris the tender vittles

commercial kitty cat whisker of employment
thru contrived virtual toy story
   qua ratatouille poetic brew
could materialize into a likely chance

such outcome would generate me
   to shrek out with excitement and dance
just in case a glimmer of some prospect exists
   for this self anointed bard,

   who dislikes formality
   of Schwenksville, Pennsylvania,
   now presents technical skills,
   I wooly cotton to enhance

this chap offers poetic expression
   common in differ france
     so take a glance
to help this intuitive **** sapiens
   sharp pen mental acuity like lance

which byte size bit torrent humor
   might cause ye to soil pants
after misinterpreting mishmash
   as raven shrieking twittering rants

even part time income would buoy positive stance
subtle intent to place me as worth hiring,
   with mop pa trick sway zee
   au currant electronic charge hypnotic trance
in consideration to ad-vance.

I betcha never read a pseudo cover letter reply
   like this iambic pentameter electronic wire
from a boyish looking blood muggle father up in years
   (whose nonpareil courage

   to face Voldemort never does tire)
deux darling northern belles,
   would consider him a worthy hire
less to rake in gobs of money,

   but to satiate unquenchable hunger and thirst
   for further bits of computer
   know how to acquire
in tandem aim to present the write stuff.

This faux pas whey to ripple eye conveys an itty bitty
     raw bit size actual work experience
(from this chap, who lives (Kenye bull heave
   ~ 40 miles north
   west of the Philadelphia city) via dashing car
nonetheless, i hanker (NOT to be confused with HACKER

though offset by merely one different third letter)
   prompts the following ditty
per computer trouble (making)
   and shooting abilities

   some may ascribe as nitty gritty
on par with the secret life of Walter Mitty
whom destiny protected and took pity
meant to be silly, yet also attempt to be witty.

No matter how many miles by car
(your company might be
   within dead man walking distance)
   this opportunity would not be considered to far
hoops responding in rhyme
   being considered nada mar

gin hilly atypical to use ecumenical interest
   and technologically spar
using graphical user interface programs
   to get unstuck from virtual feathery tar.

Iambic pentameter might not constitute
   traditional genre for a debtor
no reason why my non-establishmentarianism
     cannot serve as me own mode to communicate pursuit
     as computer repair technician go getter,
which honest to goodness confession
   hopefully affects responsiveness a bit better.

This pure breed mud half blood muggle prince
bona fide seeker for challenging income
   does reckon poetic way
not necessarily follows formalities
   to reply most would readily say

why adhere to conformity,
   whereby paradigm frowns on creative hoo ray
which atypical modus operandi
   viz positive reply and job i pray
even if interest turns out to be nay
mien hometown nada abbott may
cost 'hello far west where Philadelphia lay.

The resume (quite slim as jail grub gruel –
an extended hiatus taken
   for medical reasons) shows dearth,
yet versed inducing byte size mirth
of requisite technical expertise,
   i do possess attributes well worth.

If you might allow me to boast
and blithely use rhyme without reason to coast
given cents and sense ability opportunity to eradicate
Re: exorcise any binary elusive ghost
and offer bytes of helpful information from pc host
with brio and confidence, i respond to your post.

Without further ado, i will slightly brag
to tell of ability to conduct understand dos
manage common system utilities (non passe)
   such as scan disk and defrag

installed, resolved dsl issues, performed
scan-disk and troubleshooting glitches
   such as removal of dos files, installation
and/or removal of hardware

   likewise uninstalling software,
   running registry sweeps
   in an attempt to remove bugs and errors
   mice, or roaches, that cause machine
   to cough and gag

invariably impede processes
   as downloading, sending, uploading, et cetera to lag
and if chance smiles on further consideration
like a happy pup his tail will wag.

Oh...and by the way i would accept a starting
negotiable/competitive salary as starting wage
to support this self proclaimed sage
whose role can double up
   as court jester, joker, or page

hopeful this poetic synopsis
   offers favorable gauge
in tandem enriching fount of know
   ledge valuable at any advancing age.

Y'all might think this reply balderdash and rot
which may matter Bo diddly squat
no matter i herald from royalty
   with salient strengths being prestigious Scott
butta masta Harris

Does not smoke ***** nor drink from a chamber ***
a student of the establishment he is not
yet ad foxy, hocks moxie by proxy, this poet doth got
might elicit salient characteristics similar to humanoid bot
and, oh by the way, I lived
   in montgomery county, penna for some years quite a lot.
Lynn For Now Mar 2014
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,
"******* *****, 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.
bergljot Dec 2016
I've got mountain ranges trapped inside me like whistles on a broken melody of symphony
I speak in sonnets of Shakespeare my anxiety it's shakes fear
I've got oceans bottled up inside messages asking for saving
This is survival poetry.
So let me tell you about how I was saved by the colour brown.
They say fall in love with the girl with forests in her eyes
So my whole life I've been searching for hills to dive in.
Till one day I came across a mid-winter's night dream.
Of leafless trees and barren fields.
Of branches shivering in the cold wind of winters heart.
Every idea
Every sensation to exist
Every desire to consist-ently
Talk about how yesterday I was a graveyard but today I'm a orphanage
Not dead yet
Just searching for a home
For a family
I'm searching for serenity
Before I'd search in places made of gold and tender hands
Before I'd search in places that said the right things
Before I'd search in places called emotional abuse.
Called a trip down memory lane, except the memories were in the basement and I was pushed down the stairs.
Walking around with a broken halo and an excuse to call misery home.
But today I see sunsets reflecting off mirrors into the southern void of the Carcasses you once loved.
Scraping gum off the sidewalk of my spine.
Replacing them with burnt bridges and animal traps. Like claws saying, "don't **** with me."
You ever hear of the buddy system?
Well it's enforced a poor sense of self worth in me. Making me think that being codependent was survival. Making me think that I was incomplete in need of another half.
But I'm only now realising I'm both sides of the moon.
I'm the night and the day.
I'm the birds in the morning and the crickets in the evening.
I'm the ocean and the sand.
The mountains and the canyons. I'm the whole ******* in one.
The other day someone mentioned that whole and hole sound the same but are polar opposites and maybe that's why my whole life hearing the words "good enough" sounded like a request to empty an abyss.
Maybe I was misinterpreting. maybe it was a poor choice of words, like
i need you
But only to fill this void.
To take the pen and write a poem but then say, "it doesn't really mean anything I was just bored"
Bored like boarded windows and mean like the average amount of demons hiding in the brightest corners of my mind. (the answer is one less than the amount of hands clutching onto the pen.)
I'm addicted to this feeling of revealing every part of me in words that mean everything other than what they're inclined to be.
This world is Kryptonite in your veins and you've got are 24 steps left to reach the sun.
A day ago you were speaking about crystallized harmonies like your sister's violin chiming through the corridors of your two story childhood home. She had a room all to herself,but you had to share yours with skeletons in your closet, flies on the walls and the elephant who always seemed to be in the room.
However they weren't the reason you couldn't go to bed.
Cause after 17 years you've still got voices living in your head.

Father, is this our daily bread?
Nicole Bataclan Jun 2013
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.
BeautyOverScars Apr 2014
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.
Tyler Zuniga Apr 2016
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.
preface: prays of purse filled legal tender
this ****** NOT ******
   (hue coward know who eye mean)
   hie do attest

that poetry may not be best
to express whoosh to chest
*** a lee till bitta chump change
boot overpowering literary force 

   to pocket earning for a grange
(hmm...who knows maybe
   formerly owned by Jessica Lange 
thence might be within my financial range
even though this har chap 
   decades older than college student - iz that strange?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
GAINFUL EMPLOYMENT QUEST --- or
subtitled IN PRAYS OF LEGAL TENDER.

Let this dog gone prime mate ova simian sketch out 
   his general doggerel to free
unleashing a swiftly tale lord 
   of the flies - harried styled brush stroke of strengths
me retracted claws, which might find me 

   barking up the wrong tree arf find yarself
cat a tonic taking a nap - 
   in the land of doctor ah zee.

akin to a termite expending energy 
   thru wood to bore search sans income 
   an arduous slow book king chore thus,
   i spruce quest per 
   my non-conformist poetic je ne sais quois x cell lent 
   cover letter de jour 4u2 access and for me 

   to entertain as a minimum less or more
and then...whoosh
   into circular filing cabinet ye will store
this non-formal reap ply, 
   which email will take cyberspace tour.

Pixar could nada pay enough 
   for this trainer of apple chomping antz 
so i wonder if any chance 
   whisker of employment 
vis a vis thru this contrived virtual toy story 

   qua ratatouille poetic brew 
could materialize opening virtual community chest 
   into a likely monopoly winning chance 
such an idea generates me 

   to shrek out with excitement n contra dance 
just in case a glimmer of some prospect exists 
for this self anointed bard, who dislikes formality
presents a brief poo whet tick summation
   sans technical skills, he hopes to enhance 

p'raps earn enough moolah to see arc d'triumph, 
 Louvre, Paris France i offer
   the following poetic expression 
   for ye to take a glance 
and help this intuitive **** sapiens income
   to expand and en-hance, 

which byte size bit torrent humor 
   without use of strong arm, nor lance
   might cause ye to soil pants 
after misinterpreting mishmash 
   as some rave and rants 
  
part time con sit hard so positive stance 
   a subtle intent worth hiring, 
   2 sway au currant series electronic charge 
and ideally affect hypnotic trance.

betcha never red a poe sting like this faux 
   iambic pentameter electronic wire 
   from boyish looking blood muggle 
   father up in years (whose nonpareil courage 
   to face voldemort never does tire) 

and two grown girls 
   would consider him a worthy hire 
to rake in gobs of legal tender,
   satiating unquenchable hunger 
   hunger game of thrones,
   and thirst qua knowledge = powerful
for bits of computer know how to acquire.

this cover letter of sorts conveys
   teensy weensy, itty bitty 
byte size actual work experience 
   (this older mister rhyme stir 
   lives northwest of philadelphia city) 

kenye bull heave that,
   nonetheless, i hanker 
   (NOT  confused with HACKER)
   though disparate deeds offset
   by difference of third letter 
to employ computer and writing skills, 

   + rooted tid bits of moxie playing at nearby Roxy 
burrow, which prompts the following ditty 
express interest to apply mental tasks
   ala computer trouble shooting 
some may ascribe as nitty gritty 

on par with secret life of Walter Mitty 
whom destiny protected and took pity 
this merely meant to be silly 
   yet also attempted to be witty.

No matter how many miles by car 
(actual company might be within dead
   man walking distance) 
   opportunity not be considered to far 

using acumen huck cull interest 
   and technologically spar 
+ graphical user interface programs
   to get unstuck from virtual feathery tar.

Iambic pentameter might be faux pas
   not the traditional standard genre 
   for a cover letter 
i see no reason why 
   non-conformist modus operandi 
cannot serve as mode

   to communicate pursuit viz philologist technician 
   and paperback writer wannabe, 
   cuz i love each english language letter,
which honest to goodness confession 
   hopefully offers unique outlook re: 
   other respondents at least a bit better.

this pure breed mud half blood muggle prince 
born (whom most think me full o hogwash 
   to *** rid of hog wort) - yea 
truth seeker for employment reckons
   the following poetic way 

not necessarily follows formalities 
   to reply would readily say, 
yet why adhere to conformity, 
   which paradigm frowns on creativity 
atypical modus operandi to reply

   positive job offer i pray 
even if outcome per offering interest 
   turns out to be nay 
perhaps because where mien hometown 
   west of philadelphia lay
boot methinks tis cuz mine longish
   wavy hair follicles fifty shades of gray.

no employment vitae shows dearth 
hence decided to resort - thou add verse 
   to induce a byte size mirth 
of requisite (sought after) technical expertise,
   possessing attributes FitBit wool worth consideration --

   so just allow me to boast 
blithely riding iambic pentameter to coast 
given opportunity to eradicate
re: exorcise binary electronic bookworm 
   even Casper the friendly ghost 

n offer bytes of helpful information from pc host 
information technology position tacked on fence post 
with sought after salary goal fair n equitably per year 
would necessitate celebration 
   tete a tete vis a vis teetotaler toast.

So...without further ado, i slightly brag 
telling ability to conduct understand bit size crag
reckon obsolete intricacies such as dos 
    passé, and hardly requisite material,
   i learned to manage 
   common system utilities 
   such as scan disk and defrag 

installed and resolved dsl issues,
   performed scan-disk and troubleshooting glitches 
removal of dos files, installation 
   and/or removal of hardware 
uninstalling software, running registry sweeps 

attempting to remove bugs and errors
   causing machine to cough and gag, 
which invariably causes processes
   as downloading, sending, uploading, et cetera to lag
if chance smiles on consideration --
   a happy go lucky dog this tail will wag.

oh...by the way, i would accept a starting 
and/or negotiable salary as a starting wage 
in an effort to support this self proclaimed sage 
whose role can double up as a court jester, 
   Batman joker, or jimmy john page 

hopeful this poetic synopsis 
   offers favorable gauge 
in tandem enriching fount of knowledge
   More valuable at this advanced age.

y'all might think this reply balderdash and rot 
which may matter on par bo diddly squat 
no matter i herald from skid row royalty
   with salient strengths being prestigious Scott 
**** tuckus, butta Matthew Harris 

   does not smoke ***** 
   nor drink from a *** 
and a student he is not 
nor a gentleman quarterly kennedyesque fellow
   who would be called really hot 

yet moxie by proxy this poet of doth got 
and might elicit salient characteristics 
   similar to a humanoid heterosexual bot 
and, oh by the way, i lived in lower merion 
   for some years that = quite alot.

This from - a generic johnny 
   come lately jim crow chee 
can tackle the junkyard dawg, 
   while trump petting, swaggering, 
   rollicking with rod ham 
   pomp *** city but,

who **** house trained 
   and can use snout to play putt putt 
plus extricate moss elf from tread full rut.

this sub woofer snapper papa pooch, 
though scrawny and essentially 
   a generic mixed breed
   bowled with dennis the menace 
   plus jeff and mutt 

an older dog gone college alumni 
   of hard knocks
   relied on powder milk bone dog biscuits 
   to hone courage, and overcome shyness 
   (predominant among norwegian 
   bachelor farmers canine pets)

this diet of powdered raw bit, 
   weighed heavy in my gut 
thus, i conclude air rating whims 
   hoop ping this passes windy muster 
   and makes the cut
if nyat - dag nabbit rab but.
Drifton A Way Oct 2018
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
To Be Continued?????

You get it because of the whole global warming and tuck frump undertones right? Yeah, I've heard poetry is better if you explain it out didn't you?But seriously we should all probably do something the Earth is probably not going to last very long at this rate, and I will probably never have kids...**** ****, Humans are my favorite thus far.....
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;
i hope you get how sarcastic this poem is... it's one of my favorite...
David Bojay Apr 2020
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/
whyshouldiknow Apr 2014
that has to mean something,
right?

i can't decide how i feel about you.
i've never had to deal with you like this before.

i'm afraid of what might happen
i'm afraid that you might not feel the same anymore
i'm afraid that i'm misinterpreting my emotions
i'm afraid that i might not be able to go through with it

i don't know what to do with myself

i've never loved a girl like this.
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?
depressed. even at the beginning of the summer...
Saumya Oct 2017
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'
A real story.

Thanks for reading :)
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."

— The End —