"misjudged" poems
I'm sorry!
for not talking to you all these years.
I don't know the reason,
Maybe because I was disillusioned,
or may be because I misjudged,
and I was imprudent.
But that day when I heard you name,
I couldn't stop myself from talking to you.
I found myself in the memory lane,
and all divergence creating reminiscence.
Tears rolled at the pace of the emergence;
of all memories sweet and bitter.
I made a good decision and talked to you,
never expected you to take it so lightly
as if nothing
ever happened between us,
You are the best brother ever,
but neither I am nor I was a good sister.
I'm sorry!
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 11:33 AM UTC
It is in my blood
I can feel its presence
When it’s on the verge
To emit a surge, every time my heart beats
An impulse,
Scurrying it’s way through the crevasses of my brain.
Tainting the walls of grey matter with a tendency for unpredictability,
Out of my reach.
I hate it
I don’t want it
I never asked for this
I can’t slow my mind down
Thoughts so fast, hit me with whiplash
It’s insanity.
No.
I’m not insane
I can’t be
I’m rationale
I think about how I think about things,
Like it’s a cycle that never stops..
Which I guess could be my downfall
My vision says it all
When thoughts travel my mind
In dark tunnels at times
My eyes blind to the surroundings
Tunnel vision that make you claustrophobic;
You feel trapped
When all you see at the end of the tunnel,
Is the darkness of insanity
But..
I’m rationale
I acknowledge I have a tendency to be blind to my surroundings,
How can I be blind if I can clearly see?
Is life objective or subjective?
I just want to understand--
You're stupid —
What was that?
Felt like a surge, on the attack
An impulse
That voice
That’s it.
Unpredictability
That lies,
In my brain waiting to be brought to the surface
With the surge of an impulse.
It’s the insanity that taints me,
From seeing what really is
I’m not stupid, I’m a learner.
Granted with the gift of analysis,
But darkened by the cruel nature of impulse
To taint my minds innocence
I'm not scared to think about it anymore
I am insane, because it’s what you make of it.
Insanity grants me with the gift of perspective,
Throwing a million different ones my way
Ones that are positive and ones that are new
Traveling at hundreds of miles
And this even includes
All the negative perspectives as well
At the times when I don’t want to hear them.
Insanity must be embraced and never repressed.
Repression tells you no don’t do that, it’s wrong.
When insanity isn’t embraced, it is feared.
When something that’s inevitable is feared
You’re no longer insane,
You’ve completely lost it.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 2:25 AM UTC
I've done a lot.....
I've done a lot in my lifetime.....
I've done a lot in the past 11 months...
I've felt even more...
I've made decisions....
I've made mistakes....
I've created conclusions and shoved them in the mirror's reflection.
I've made a finalization...
I've terminated the story...
I've concluded this connection.
Now I'm alone...
Now I feel like excess emotions left in a puddle to be stepped in and splashed in, for fun or dismay.
-a muddy disgrace of distaste.
-a muddy reflection of disgust.
-a distraction on the path to your destination.
I feel sick...
Sick to my stomach
Sick in the Mind...
Sickly branches that creep out from my heart, determined to entomb my entire internal system, and hold me there to deal with what level I've continued to stoop myself too.
Myself... the one that's so much better than what she's encountered and how she's figured her future.
I deserve what I have, and what I choose.
I deserve what I get, for what I've chosen.
I'm throwing up...
I'm throwing up everything...
everything that my heart has eaten right out of the palms of those who've given it to me.
I don't wanna feel it anymore....
I don't want that pressure forced on my stomach any longer.
I'm sick...
I'm sick again.
Its all coming up....
I'm letting it out... all the emotions that so rightfully belong on the floor in a jumbled mess rather then crammed in my stomach where they explode with temptation as my stomach thrusts itself in circles....
its looking for a way to let everything go.
My body knows whats right....
I'm emotionally anorexic.
I throw it all away without wanting to let it go, I would rather keep everything that reminds me of that time, that time when my stomach did not churn in agony...
I am miserable....
I am mistaken.... and misjudged...
I am sick...
and distracted...
I'm... lost?
Lost in the mirrors and fine lines... fine lines between punishment and disabilities...
I can see myself....
I see myself pale and done.
Done with everything I'm hearing and thinking right now.
I've gone too far.
I'm done.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 2:56 PM UTC
I am so sick of love.
Loyalty, honesty, dedication, compassion, compromise, for better or for worse (when it's always worse)!
I am so sick of love, and all the drama that accompanies it.
Most of all what makes me absolutely ill, in a brain and heart exploding in anger and disappointment respectively, kind of way,
are the Lies!
"You're all I want", "I need you", "I need a friend", "I still love you", "I will always love you", "Is there any chance?", "Can we get back together?",
all the attention seeking, melodramatic, time-consuming crap!
Followed by guilt. That nauseous feeling of, what if? What If? WHAT IF?
Was it the right thing? Will I find another? What about the broken heart?
The sleepless nights of pondering how to end things, the poems written and unpublished, the practising in front of the mirror, cigarettes to channel the guilt elsewhere...
For crying out loud!
After years of guiding me, I should have given way more credit to my instincts.
And now for the new chapter. Embracing an old art, new to me. Currently so underrated and misjudged by priests, mothers and newly-weds.
The philosophy of zero expectations to infinite pleasure and everything in between.
No regrets, no time wasted (and hell was my time wasted on you!#$#$#$).
Time to give up my soul to the darkness, (God, I hope you'll understand I still love and believe you, but I prayed and prayed. I can't wait any more!) and my body to the sailor boy!
Absolutely No Strings Attached.
No bull **** no promises, just *** (and cuddles), a lot of *** (and waking up next to him?)
Anyway, NO STRINGS ATTACHED! [Except for the invisible, really strong one. He is irresistible after all and I'm a dreamer who never, ever learns, and follows her instincts way too much!]
One thing's for sure.
I am so profoundly sick of love!
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 6:04 PM UTC
Some madness
Helps alleviate
Mind’s burden
From everyday
Travesty
Of the harsh
Illusions of happiness
Insanity
Emboldens the heart
With alacrity
And therein lies
The truth
In the core
Of chaos
Misjudged as
Randomness
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 11:07 PM UTC
potion lost by unknown souls
effervescent masturbatory master debater
creationism is masochism told from the horses ***
past blast take my soul
make me whole and complete
separation anxiety is ***** envy
memories of mental memos crash past rushing fools
used and abused on cruise control
I misjudged your guided thistle
because missiles are meant for drones not home-oh
listen to the seedless man cry for his dead *****
tediously miserable always unforgiven
what lies hidden within the door
could be a deserted desert dessert
like an after dinner breath mint
or a succinct lunatic on the brink of such destruction
may be distraction fight or flight action reaction
marilyn charles though more bronson than you
Aren’t thou marked for death
broken gasp choked sob
undergod slaughtered in an abandoned euthanasia clinic
euphimistic innuendo more like in your endo
indoor marijuana smoke makes the colors run
my american flag has flown and fled
please jesus save our country bumpkins
napkins go in the lap not as hat
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
Come walk with me a mile...
Walk on without our burden’s weighty shoes,
warily trudging over the long rocky pathway
a lifetime in my soul.
A final edifying voyage to freedom.
The winds of change are blowing briskly
as we walk charily over the long and narrowing
rock-strewn passageway.
I shed these boots and skin, no longer fitting
my scared, blistered and callused soles.
As time slowly passes,
this craggy passage has evolved
from a two-way trail,
into one-way jagged forage…
Standing barefooted and naked on rocky ground,
dark sunken sleepless eyes scan
the rolling vista as the wind blows
dust from the halo around the sun,
blurring the delicate wispy cirrus clouds.
The sun’s radiance paints frozen ice crystal azure
into a vivid aura of prisms’ brilliant corona.
Kaleidoscope rainbows adorn the closest of solar stars.
There's something in the ethereal air
that leaves my soul unsettled,
grasping for an evocative stability
trying to understand the silenced voices
crying out within…
The pain and suffering has vanished
as if the body and soul have separated,
numbness from the ache of longing,
severed nerves, callused fears
ruptured on serrated rocky edges,
deadened useless flesh cut to the bone
by misjudged obstacles encountered enduringly.
The barefooted spirit courses on,
suffused in the solar spectrum’s dust;
yearning, longing to saunter
above and beyond the bloated feathery pillows;
cumulus clouds finally resting at peace.
Dipping heart's lesions and these benumbed toes
into a healing balm
from the bowers of bliss..
An unfinished life
an open ended dream,
reluctantly waking to take the last ,
surrendering steps beyond the threshold...
A long and winding rocky journey’s destiny
draws near
The halo around the moon
illuminates an understanding firmament;
the celestial sphere’s
pending imminent soulful rain awaits
the metamorphosis at the brink of dawn.
A shower of heaven's rain
shall mourn the loss of flesh form
as the spirit of an untamed soul lives on,
barefooted,
naked and free
like the dust in the wind
absorbed eternally...
2011 © harlon rivers
all rights reserved
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 11:16 AM UTC
Ms. judged me.
I can't help but feel,
That she's misjudged me.
In reflection,
I can't fault her.
I just hope it's not a perception,
That I can't alter.
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 4:44 AM UTC
Sitting in a dance club
Looking for a score
When I saw her from a distance
She had just walked in the door
My glasses were beer clouded
and my eyes they were the same
I had to know this woman
I had to know her name
She got closer and I saw her
Hair like the setting sun
Jeans out of a country song
I knew she was the one
She made her way up to me
Sat down and turned to me
I had taken off my glasses
All the better so to see....
**** I couldn't get that drunk
There's not enough beer here for me
I saw her face and then I thought
I'd poke my eyes out not to see
It was my first day in college
I made it to my class, but late
I chose a seat behind a redhead
Who..I thought I'd like to date
She had a figure I could follow
She smelled as fresh as morning dew
You can guess just what I'm thinking
And just what I'd like to do
The professor asked a question
I answered and got it wrong
Then she stood on up to answer
She had those jeans on from a song
She answered and I heard her
A voice as shrill as chalkboard screech
My ***** went up inside me
To a place a doctor couldn't reach
**** I couldn't get thank drunk bud
With a voice that could cut glass
There's not enough beer in this small town
To even try to make a pass
I was working at the library
No idea on what to write
My whole year was failing
I would be here for the night
Two tables up I saw her
Brunette and dressed in blue
I got up to walk on by her
You know, just like I was want to do
I approached and she turned quickly
Her hair was flying everywhere
Then her blue eyes locked upon me
And in my mind she stripped me bare
She was not one you'd remember
She was plain, to state a fact
All I noticed was her staring
And you know I just stared back
I'm sorry I misjudged her
Superficial ruled my world
Now, I've come to know her deeper
And you know she's now my girl
To judge someone is petty
If appearance is all you see
You'll miss finding your life's treasure
If you don't learn how to see
Looks can fade and over time
You'll go deaf so you can't hear
And with your weak and feeble bladder
You won't be drinking that much beer !!
Oct 6, 2012
Oct 6, 2012 at 6:55 PM UTC
I am not my brokenness
Yes I was broken in such a way,
that when I took a glance at thyself
I failed to recognize thyself
I am not my brokenness
They misjudged my brokenness
and reversed it into bitterness,
I was not bitter
It was just a cry of a broken soul
that they failed to recognize but rather level it as weakness
I am not my brokenness
If silence tears were a portion of a million,
at this moment I could have been labelled as one
If they were an ocean full of blessings,
at this very moment my name could have been Abraham
If they were a dwelling palace,
It could have been at the very right hand of the father
I am not my brokenness neither my silent tears
May 1, 2020
May 1, 2020 at 4:12 AM UTC
but we’re only human.
when it comes into something you’re truly passionate
it’s even easier to make a snap judgement.
if it were me however
I would have never made it this far
I never bothered going in for a closer inspection.
That’s right, in my own flawed and jaded ” been there, done that” mindset
As it turns out, very.
I’ll be the first to admit that
while I consider myself to have a rather smiley pallet
open mindedness can occasionally be on short reverse.
Fortunately fate would give me another chance to get up close this faith
and after the recommendation from a friend I did a little web minning.
The more I discovered about the faith the further my foot traveled into my mouth.
When I finally finished off my last slice of humble pancake
I realized that the only acceptable way to right my wrong
would be head to the place were its all start.
When I first saw the faith
it was still shocking, how shinny it was
and still.
Even with my ‘vast knowledge’ of all things people I thought it was surely a cover.
But that’s just another item we can add to the “thing I was wrong about” list.
The advantages of this process compared to conventional talking are vast
primarily the ability to talking virtually anything.
but as easy as it is to get carried away by the impressive exterior of fake smile
there’s more to it.
if you’ll pardon my ridiculous pun
but it has been given a kick in the pants.
Speaking of driving hard, that’s exactly what the ‘cranky’ guy doing with his car
everyday since he just 9 years old.
There’s nothing I like more than a car
ok, I also put on cakes and cat into the list.
But what’s the point. that was me
not you or anybody else.
I must say it’s been a while since I misjudged people so badly
but certainly there is a lesson to be learned, no?
What I thought to be a run-for-the-cover behavior is really anything
but and my first impression has now been well and truly erased.
it’s not some untalkable harebrained concept and its not sitting around in a warehouse collecting dust. it’s doing exactly what a guy should be - it’s being driven its way.
Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 10:36 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Moving traces out of my mind,
You think I'm lost or something,
You think the only ounce of ignorance,
Has a cost or something,
Or maybe your ego had a stand off or something,
Like you couldn't handle all the boundaries,
Guess it taught you something,
So snuggling under purple and pink clouds,
In an empty room,
Regrets wouldn't be aloud,
In the realm of bloom,
Where the flowers are,
Like it had a lifespan or something,
Living 30 years long like it was meant to be or something,
To be misjudged but the wrong pill you take or something,
Red one or blue one,
Want cancer,
Look at the sun,
And the stars,
Realize who you are,
Don't be threatened by the lonely ones.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 6:45 PM UTC
There would be no way
To determine it's course
Unshackled
Love, be it called
Screaming without a motive
Dripping in tears
Unrivaled in fear
Underfoot lies hate
Decaying in self deprecating
Beauty
A book
So misjudged
By it's cover
Glorious, and oh
So glorious love
To be set upon
By flights of fancy
Gold, lace and all
To be a spectacle
A beacon of the triumph
Of good over evil
Light over dark
Yin over Yang
Yang over Yin?
Silly ponderous mind
Queer that one
Would meander
Outside the box
Do not forget that poetry
Is only here to
Accommodate your
Flair
Perhaps I
Am the box
To think
Of boxes
Perfect little squares
Perfect exhibits
Of a mistrial
To wander
Look away
To see
To think of subjection
To think...
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 4:28 PM UTC
I watched her lips get wet, as she took a drag from her cigarette. I held her close when I heard her shout, because she finally knew, I had her figured out. Don’t be so pretty, don’t be so coy. Don’t walk away, don’t act like a boy. Don’t question my feelings or make me sore. Don’t, just please don’t, walk out of that door. I want to be the only person, in. Your. room. I want to feel your eyes on me. I want to be the one that you can only, desire. Kissed by a moment. And if you can convince me I am pretty, I will marry you.
So many rules, too many ways to be right. Oh, but please, don’t get me so wrong. Don’t interrupt, don’t guess who I am, or come on too strong. You may not understand that I am myself. Please don’t let my deficit be your burden of wealth. I just want you. To love yourself. Too much to ask? Too much to grasp. I want to feel your arms around me, feel your heart against me. And know, that you are there. No two bit stamp on the back of my hand, a fleeting night under the sheets. No, convince me I am pretty, and I will walk with your shadow til the sunsets.
I am not your buddy, I don’t facilitate second-hand-emotion. I do David Bowie, I do listening to the rain, I do dancing drinking, I do living without shame. And of these words that have been said before, keep gett-ing, left behind with the close of a door. Isn’t it shame you tried so very hard? Clouded, misjudged, may be a bit plus-tard? I hate apologies, or the shame of self defeat, where is your fight? Please ground your feet. I am getting bored of myself; the intricacies of freedom hidden in a secret box. Convince me I am pretty, for your are the one who only would know.
I watched her eyes drift to the side, as she held back tears she could never cry. I held her closest when she pushed me away, and when she told me to leave, I made myself stay. Do be you, do smile when you can, do hold my hand, do act like the man. Do make me talk, don’t make me talk **** just make me realise, you love me just even a little bit. And when I convince myself I am pretty, I’ll be fine, just fine.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 5:13 PM UTC
What are we but a melodramatic love song.
Lust into love,
One night stands turned into a forever dance, Moving to our rhythm,
Willingly settling into second,
Just to keep some since of piece of him,
Finding peace in him,
Dangling hope of just being present,
I just want to live in his positions,
And die dreaming of laying in his arms,
Holding on to bodies that aren't belonging to me,
As if to waive promiscuity,
To be proud, Oh to be proud,
Feeling nothing more than misjudged,
But judged rightfully so,
I just wanted to love him,
Lived in such a foolish state,
Breaking down complexities,
As if love could be so simple as one sided,
As if i had a choice,
Knowing we had a choice,
Admitting in my moment,
Clinging to what would hold me the longest, Running from his wrath into one of my own,
Stuck.
In the eye of the storm,
Not progressing, and content.
Content, but lonely Oh so lonely
To have him, but not to be his, to be his but have no claim to his heart.
No, not confused,
Just wishing that the truth could be written more beautifully.
Looking to the future for answers in the now, Should we stay Or move on,
Trying to go full circle,
Lost in a triangle Surrounded by sharp edges, Looking for a way out
But I choose to stay I surrender,
No longer willing to fight the truth.
I just wanted to love you With nothing in return, Stuck In uncompromising situations, but I stay, still. Hoping happiness will find me here.
Stuck.
She loves him, I love him, he loves her,
And yet I find myself just existing
Trying to find my place but theres no place for me here.
Drifting.
Awaiting the day ill no longer need him as a crutch, Cause I'm broken, Oh to be broken
Gave myself wholeheartedly Only to end up brokenhearted,
***** of any chance of forever,
Daydreaming of broken possibilities,
Looking into mirrors, Staring at ruins Figments of who I once was but ruined,
So I stay.
Still. Waiting for happiness to find me here.
-13'
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 4:37 PM UTC
A fool could see this from a mile away
Still I let you get close
Your love, like espionage for future endeavors
For me to give out all my love to have it scattered across the walls you built up to keep me out
Still I was outside your solitude of isolation
My fair Juliet, misjudged and ruthless, how I like it
Blinded by mistreatment, I want what's bad for me
Like sugar to your teeth so sweet but risky
I'd fight to suffer the slings and arrows of as they say misfortune with you could never come my way..
No one said anything about sticks and stones
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 9:37 PM UTC
all i've been able to think about lately
is a poem written by fingers on a keyboard
attached to a left hand not yet responsible
for being blistered with cigarette burns
or lifting can or shot or handle to lips
with which to stain -- barley, hops,
potatoes, rice, and alcoholic love.
and i've been thinking about how i felt
after i read a poem written the night
before by a left hand now singed
and swollen, and guilty of lifting
many such apparatuses bearing
many such inks to blot out
mistakes and scribble over
all the misjudged words
that have spilled from
lips stained with barley,
hops, potatoes, and rice.
and i've been thinking about
the content of that poem,
and about how differently
i thought of it two nights ago,
before i got my own matching
business card with a followup
appointment for next week,
and a matching warning
to allow 24 hours notice
before changing the day
or time of an appointment
in order to avoid being charged;
and with it came the opportunity
to write my own poem about it:
Christina M., LMFT,
Wed, 4-17-13 at 4:00 PM,
and it has a sacramento street
address with a phone number
i have no intention of calling.
and i've been thinking about
how i met with her today,
and what we spoke of,
how i told her about drugs,
and how i told her about drinking,
and how my grades have been slipping,
and how i realized that
my poem is his poem,
just eleven months too late.
and that's why i told her about
this party i went to this weekend,
and how i'm passive, and i have trouble
speaking up for myself when i need to,
and how we sang until i left the room,
and how i went outside in the cold
after i came back inside to notice
something i wasn't expecting
to make me sad, but did.
and this person with whom
i have another appointment next week,
and most likely the week after that,
for however many weeks it takes,
told me that it helps to tell a person
how you're feeling without
gluing strings to the information,
or getting upset, or lying,
and so i guess this is an attempt,
albeit one made out of cowardice
and impatience, and some desire
for there to be an easier way
to tell a boy i've loved him
ever since i found this stupid website,
filled with his stupid words,
and his stupid poem about
a stupid girl he used to date,
that clinically broke open
my amygdalae and upon them
tattooed every feeling
of which i was never sure.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
Walking through oblivion.
Our minds eye filtering, interpreting, controlling our visual ignorance
Condemning and exonerating strangers through a transient green gaze.
Subconsciously filing them into a misjudged character portrayal.
Painting their personality with usurped traits of yellow, cyan and magenta.
Filling a blank canvas white.
May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 6:12 PM UTC
My Inner Critic
I've misunderstood you far too long
I used to think you ginormous
But I see you're actually small.
You're not a beast I need to hide from
But a child I must protect
Your poisonous tongue was cursed to you
From years of abuse and neglect.
When you're scared, you can be scary
To get attention, you yell mean things
You bring something up over and over again
When you know that I'm not listening.
When I look, you're stuck and screaming
Like you felt and could never express
You see danger and no one will listen
I shut you down like all of the rest.
Sweet one, I'm sorry I ran from you
I misjudged your might and will
Now I've grown and understand better
No one ever taught you the skills.
Instead you learned to fear your big feelings
Because they made you bad and unloveable
But your feelings are valid and helpful to hold
You're on fire, but you're not combustible.
The rage that electrifies your skin
Makes sense and will not destroy you
We can redirect, run through it's end
Then, together, decide what to do.
You screamed that you wanted to die
But we dyed our hair instead
You wanted to take your own life
So we've taken it into our own hands.
Big feelings will always wash over us
I know sometimes that feels like too much
But now I'll listen and we can make choices
That won't harm either of us.
Jan 8, 2025
Jan 8, 2025 at 8:40 PM UTC
Funny how some people love to think
No, they don't even bother to think actually
They are simply making assumptions
after reading your convincing poems
of sad good bye and half way to heaven
The said its true. All of it? YES ... so very true.. true...
eye brows raised, delicious stories of love affairs...
poor poet being misjudged
ahh all are true then from poem 1 to poem 100
she married them all,
100 flower bouquets exchanged each year
she still keep one hundred diamond rings...
she is planning to have an exhibition too
the theme is WEDDINGS AND BREAK UPS
wordsmiths job is to write
about anything... happiness, sadness, love, romance
and a thousand other things from their creative
minds and hearts
just you readers be intelligent and mature
to read between the lines
and understand the underlying messages
in a piece of write
to judge a poet is unwise
how many times could a poet fall in love?
to write about love?
how many breakups should she suffer
to write a heartbreaking poem?
Silly... how some people think...
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
I fear everything.
The things that have happened and the things that may.
The thoughts that persist and won’t go away.
Like you’re not good enough. That’s and old one I know.
But it’s still a favorite part of the show.
I fear the things I know and the ones that I don’t.
I fear the beginnings and of course the ends and even the means to an end. For those are often the worst.
I fear the bump or the lump or that mass under there.
That skipped beat of heart that none can repair.
The bill that comes due on what once was you.
That time of desires which suddenly expires.
That sentence unfinished stopped in mid stream.
That breathless breath ceasing mid scream.
I fear having to say that although it’s been fun.
I’m incredibly bored and I simply must run.
I fear not giving a **** and I fear giving too much.
I fear being ignored and then longing for touch.
I fear being alone and I fear the crowd.
I fear things I’m permitted and those not allowed.
I fear having too much time and losing what I’ve got.
I fear shoulders so cold and stares that are hot.
I fear not being loved. I fear smothering too.
I fear losing myself in all that is you.
I fear knowing and not knowing as well.
That seems a unique and exquisite kind of hell.
I sit ensconced in my deepest fear
held intimately close, held tightly and dear.
It‘s been with me long and as I near the end
I start to see it is as some misunderstood friend.
I fear I’ve misjudged you such a pity is that.
I can no longer lie here growing sanguine and fat.
Oh, I beg to differ! I can definitely do that!
The piper pipes and payment is due.
He pipes for me and he pipes for you too.
I fear that my fears I may misconstrue.
My fear of me is quite often of you.
I fear being afraid which seems a bad joke
upon which my protagonist might easily choke.
I fear old age and not getting old too.
And the way to stop aging just simply won’t do.
I fear that this poem is not very good.
And that I’ve never been the best that I could.
Oct 26, 2020
Oct 26, 2020 at 1:59 PM UTC
Today,
I woke with confidence.
I excelled and did not disappoint.
I got a bit tired.
I became so happy I felt like I could die,
I was love-struck,
I was nostalgic,
I gained new inspiration,
I made a bad mistake,
I aced the test
but failed the homework,
I had a severe panic-attack.
I cried in utter self loathing,
I was comforted.
I was sheltered.
I was loved.
I was picked up
and put back together
by strangers.
I misjudged
I gained new confidence
and lost it.
Today was the best day I've ever had.
Today was the worst day I've ever had.
Today, was perfect.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 7:24 PM UTC
You looked at me with sadness the kind I've seen before .
it all look so familiar to me but I was never one to be sure .
I second guessed every move I made , I was never satisfied .
Your body moved a certain way , you made our vines intertwine.
I will never forget you , that's a know fact.
I'm just sorry I misjudged our balancing act.
You see I was in it for the comfort and the security of another , I was in it for the body and the heat it radiated into mine .
You asked me why It was always cold in my house , a question you must have worded a hundered different was to make sure I wouldn't lie.
I simply looked into his eyes and said " I do it to feel, you see inside of me is this deep black hole he once used to cover , he was buried so deep in my heart , my body was half his , now I'm left to do to another what he did to me "
With your eyes full of tears ready to spill at any moment , I made sure to mutter to you "I never said forever "
I never said forever because what is time other than a way to navigate your day , if I promised you something I couldn't fulfil i would never be able to stay.
I told you not to get attached it was nothing more than company , I looked and you a realised you looked like me when he stood in front of me .
I could see the way your heart was breaking from the simple things I said , the truth is something that you wanted but you never knew it was this .
You see this bed was never made for two I always stayed in his.
So with your eyes flowing the tears of heartbreak and nothing less I'm sure , ill turn and walk away.
And whisper into the air and say " don't forget to close the door on your way" .
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
You see a book and the outside is destroyed to the point of no return
because of the outside you didn't read the inside so nothing you learned
so now you are clueless on something because you misjudged
that's how it is now of days people see the outside so the inside is never loved
Now i ask what do you see when you see me
I'm light skinned long hair good looking and i stay in the streets
But you haven't looked hard enough to search within
Where there is pain,deceit, discomfort and sin
You look at me and say everything is okay
Not knowing the struggle i go through each and everyday
The never filled promises people made
With a heart that has been just stepped on and played
I smile and you say everything is fine
But you never cared to ask what was on my mind
What if i shut down with darkness (What then)?
No love no understanding just lost you would have prayed you looked within
Apr 15, 2010
Apr 15, 2010 at 6:09 AM UTC
Have your eyes always had the scattered look
of a woman scanning the room for exits,
with
no time to consider the precious intimacies
of skin
or the softness of faces in repose,
the vulnerable sacraments of open hands...
And have you, too, misread the calming waters
perhaps misjudged their depths?
Have you ever, daydream laden or heavily burdened
startled at finding your self, now,
this moment
gaze cast intently
beyond the bounds
of too frail a body
perhaps through your car window
for the broad pause a stoplight can fill,
perhaps in the rain
contemplating bright reflections
aberrant red
and introspective green
through the timpani
of falling water,
feeling the unfortunate gravity
of some unquantified source
at an undisclosed distance,
reaching without knowing
to release
the restraining belt
while, beneath the various
and distracting chatter,
you strain to hear the systole
at the heart
of the music you know could be found
if only you were free to follow?
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 12:43 PM UTC