"moods" poems
#*Lord Jesus, Plower of my heart,
though the darkness descends around me
and heavy moods fall over me,
though the warm feelings of intimacy begin to fade
and encroaching melancholy threatens to set in
like a cold reversal of the winds,
still I will rejoice in Your presence with me,
for You are causing me to press beyond—
beyond the delightful sense of You
and into the delightful assurance of You.
If I know nothing else, I know that You are here,
You are faithful and You love me.
So I will keep clinging to that
when everything else seems to slip
like dust through my fingers
and all hope of good things
in this life grows dim.
I will cling to the promise
that You are clinging to me,
that You’ve got me no matter what,
that You are never leaving or letting go.
For You are the unchanging I AM
in my ever-changing circumstances,
through my ever-shifting emotions,
over my ever-shaking life
and around my ever-feeble heart.
Here is my hand, Lord Jesus.
I put it safely in Yours and trust You
to lead me through this dark night.
Work Your holy, harrowing fingers
deep into the soil of my heart
until every idol is uprooted,
every stone removed
and every broken place restored.
Thank You, Jesus.
I love You.*#
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 5:16 PM UTC
*So many colors on nature’s palette
There are many moods and emotions
Picturesque gallery of many paintings
Forever framed in the travelers mind
Masterpieces cannot be recreated
If we only hold onto black and white
Immerse the soul in nature’s color
Many shades will color the spirit*
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 9:08 AM UTC
From Alan Lomax to the commercial art and now the money machine.
At the turn of the century; when sound recording 1st became available to the masses, recording a song was an opportunity for folk to reach out; and tell the world something up front and personal.
It meant that people were able to put themselves on “The record” A way of leaving a permanent audio statement, an epitaph, an audio sound bite immortalising ~ life, mood, emotion captured and bottled for all eternity.
(A medium that conveyed messages from artists and storytellers of all kinds)
A recording was also a great addition to "The family album" something more tangible, a window to a real person, with a real life, a message and a point of view; a legacy, a blast from the past.
Few people expected sound prints to be re-designed, homogenised, formulated, copied, repackaged and that art and the message would be played over and over again by new artists in the form of "cover music" or that the style of the messages would become secularized, seperated into distinctive groups, or constrained by an elite clique or commercial genre.
Labelling and streamlining art & music mostly benefits the commercial art & music industry; and no longer the artists and creators.
I've no problem with good business, or the multi-billion pound industrys that have gained commercial success.
However the process of mass homogenisation, product synthesis, marketing, streamlining and then packaging fashion, sound and synthetic culture to sell a product, leaves very little room for creative people to just be creative.
A medium originally open to many for self expression, a historical record, an archive, a voice, a personal message;
Is now just a vehicle for advertising and perpetuating a genre of nonsense, so much so that there is now more white noise immortalised than messages.
To re-cap ~ I Think that creativity and expressionism; like story telling conveys moods and messages from the present and past!
Artists and musicians should have the opportunity to create and produce more information than they copy; thus creating a richer more colourful tapestry, whilst not devaluing the message of their predecessors!
Purcy Flaherty.
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 10:38 AM UTC
i’d rather write about the freckles on your back than think about all of the ways in which you quite possibly don’t love me.
i feel sick at the very thought of you picking me apart the way you did; fingers grabbing and stroking in a catastrophic symphony of skin and vulnerability.
let’s read between each other’s lines; share my sentences and punctuate my paragraphs with your mouth; because i can breathe easier on the mornings where i wake up wrapped around you.
because my moods change like the ******* seasons and the spinning in my head doesn’t want to stop.
you tell me that i should probably get a therapist because no one that thinks about all the ways in which they could **** themselves has an ounce of mental stability.
i tell you that i have been to four.
names faded into a blur with hazy snippets of conversation remaining.
20mg.
30mg.
you tell me that trust issues and scars aren’t endearing and i tell you that neither is counting up the potential number of pills needed to dissolve your body into the living room carpet.
let me sink inside your skin and make a home in your flesh;
i tell you about the nights where i lay awake in the bath turning the water red.
tragic, isn’t it.
you tell me that this isn’t how my head should work and i tell you that i already know. everything you could possibly tell me i already know.
i know that 400 calories a day isn’t normal, and my hands shouldn’t shake all the time.
i know.
please let me stitch myself into you, even just for a while; until i no longer feel dizzy and my world stops spinning.
i don’t need you to tell me that it will be okay, because honestly i don’t think it will be and, that in itself, is okay.
let me stitch myself into you, because my own skin can’t take it anymore.
let me call you back when my voice stops wobbling and my vision straightens out, but honestly, i’m terrified that it never will. what if this is it. headaches and tears and shaking and blood.
and the debilitating, gut-wrenching feeling of pure and euphoric emptiness.
tragic, isn’t it.
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 2:41 PM UTC
Wonder if when constellations do align
And universe would finally see.
Would it be presumptious of me
To claim that then, finally you'd be mine.
Wonder if my sense would triumph over
So that my heart would be muted.
With all its contents looted...
Would I only seem sillier?
Wonder if I walked away
In due course.
You'd then take my hand in yours
So that a minute longer I'd stay...
Wonder if you'd understand
When if these feet
Should choose to retreat...
That they had to... It wasn't planned.
Wonder if it'd make a difference
If I said that I had to...
Not for me but more for you.
Would we still be able to love in silence?
Wonder if you'd wish that you made it all clear.
Before the gravity of reality would crush us,
Before the vastness of uncertainty swallows us,
Before my presence would diminish and inevitably disappear.
Wonder if you find my pessimism exhausting.
The volatile nature of my moods...
Especially when I dive deep in solitude
And resurface with a trove of words that are no less than exasperating.
Wonder if you loved me enough
In a day...
To stop me from walking away...
Or loved me too much to plainly say
That...
Future's days would see us apart...
Future's moon would glow but not for us...
Future's stars would sing but not of us...
Future's sun would dry out the passion in our hearts.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 9:04 AM UTC
One of my favorite quotes is;
"For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen: a gaseous nebula must collapse.
So collapse.
Crumble.
This is not your destruction.
This is your birth." - n.i.
I used to think that my mental illnesses were all there was to me. I was just made of panic attacks, and anxiety, and terrible flashbacks.
They trampled my mind, consuming me until I couldn't breathe. The anxiety was the person who was going to break into my house while I'm sleeping if I'm not facing the window. The panic attacks are the cars that will crash into my mom while she's out if "I love you" isn't the last thing I say to her before she leaves. The flashbacks are the tears that stream down my face at night when my thoughts cannot be controlled.
Most of the time I can't get a handle on my moods, but I still manage on with the day. Sometimes I'm too afraid to step out of my house, but I still do because I have school. At times I think that I have until the end of the day, and that's when it's all over. I will take every last pill that's supposed to help me. But I don't. I walk past the cabinet. I take four pills in the morning and five at night.
I'm terrified that everyone will leave me- almost everyone has. But that is something that is still with me. I'm not over that yet, I'm not sure I ever will be, but I'm fighting. I try to push those thoughts out if my head.
Right now, I'm still that nebula who's in the middle of collapsing. But one day, I know I'll be that star. I will be reborn into the girl I'm supposed to be. The girl I will be. Because one day, I will light up the sky.
Yes, somedays the sun will shine brighter than I do, but I will continue to be a sparkle in the sky.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
zelle ma belle
(zelle is an interbank system for sending cash in an instant to someone else’s bank account)
sent her an unexpected $250,
at 4:00am, of course,
a check-plus for her life,
because she revel reviews her day at school,
as special person day, teaches them well, and
anointed, appointed unsolicited confirmation by them
“as part of our family”
how they crave her body, her touch, at scary movie parts,
her kitchens diner size menu,
her refusal to ever disappoint,
her candy drawer supreme,
her crayon color visions which they execute,
her zen sense of their moods,
and for me,
for calling them without hesitation
my grandchildren
indeed more here hers than mine
she asks me why the $$ and poet doesn’t lie
but thinks quick at 7:30 am while bed prone,
“you won Nana of the Day award”
the only (grandparent) on the floor with two kids in her lap,
for the magic show,
all the rest,
benched, chattingly adultry things
she thinks on it and says
“ok, I accept!”
p.s. also, I have yet to inform her of the (my) elimination of a
crystal champagne flute while doing my manly cleanup from Friday night lights dinner pink champagne celebrating
le weekend’s arrival
olp
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC
I always suspected electricity
Ran rampant through my veins
To make me dazed and dizzy
But unable to sit still
It made me prone to flights of fancy
So I left giddy trails of sparks
Blazing proof of my restlessness
That once brightly caught your eye
Once your gaze had found my own
My moods came in swooning flares
And you crackled alongside me
Filling my aching, empty silence
With shiny, blessed noise
We burned so beautifully
With my electric fire
And your trilling declamations
Light and sound intertwining
Like thunder that had finally caught up with its lightning
It seemed like Nature's order
A completion of the whole
Two halves that followed each other
Unthinkingly and automatically
So one day when I found silence
It felt like Earth itself was splitting
Panicked, I burned more brightly
Stoked the fire just in case
I feared that I had dimmed
And been the cause of this new quietness
So when I still heard nothing
I thought my efforts insufficient
And I ran my highest currents
Until my wires nearly melted
Thinking the sun and I were comparable
And anticipating a response
And still I heard no trilling
No crackling at my side
So I wondered if perhaps
I had shined beyond your limits
Swiftly, I contracted
Reined in my flares and doused the fire
Thinking sudden darkness
Might just shock you into sound
I finally heard the faintest popping
Not quite the rending that I wanted
But a break from quiet all the same
Afraid of spoiling the moment
I leashed my electricity
Kept myself dim so I could hear you
Though I felt the writhing beneath my skin
It finally became unbearable
So I flashed like wild lightning
Lashed out and struck the ground
Hoping for your thunder
A dark and roiling storm
Swirling raindrops and clouds colliding
And deep, ugly noise
All I wanted was your thunder
But in the end
It was only me yelling
Screaming out for downpours
Alone
Listening to my own echoes
Waiting for you to harmonize
In the end
I was always waiting
Wondering when you'd chosen silence
Wondering why I'd let you dim me
Wondering how it was we'd ever burned
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 1:45 PM UTC
midnight skin blanketing
******* toned hips
a warm tongue points;
this
the taste of ecstasy on my
fingertips
taunts the rehab in my touch
yearning to risk it
pills litter stone-wood floors
as we **** through flaws
**** feelings carpet the inner raw**
moaning and creaking
of hard wood
boards
wild moods
bodies wet
clinging sensual monsoon
fiending for a fixing
we cut through
bleeding lust
******
sheets whispering drops of
crimson truth
as familiar sensations pulsate
we gyrate
losing focus of whose waist
hanging onto
****
don’t wait
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
by God, I don't know what to
do.
they're so nice to have around.
they have a way of playing with
the *****
and looking at the **** very
seriously
turning it
tweeking it
examining each part
as their long hair falls on
your belly.
it's not the ******* and *******
alone that reaches into a man
and softens him, it's the extras,
it's all the extras.
now it's raining tonight
and there's nobody
they are elsewhere
examining things
in new bedrooms
in new moods
or maybe in old
bedrooms.
anyhow, it's raining tonight,
on hell of a dashing, pouring
rain....
very little to do.
I've read the newspaper
paid the gas bill
the electric co.
the phone bill.
it keeps raining.
they soften a man
and then let him swim
in his own juice.
I need an old-fashioned *****
at the door tonight
closing her green umbrella,
drops her green umbrella,
drops of moonlit rain on her
purse, saying **** man,
can't you get better music
than that on your radio?
and turn up the heat..."
it's always when a man's swollen
with love and everything
else
that keeps raining
splattering
flooding
rain
good for the trees and the
grass and the air...
good for things that
live alone.
I would give anything
for a female's hand on me
tonight.
they soften a man and
then leave him
listening to the rain.
7.5k
I loved him carefully; from afar I liked to watch him grow into the man I knew today.
I loved him carefully; I watched his moods making sure the outrage stayed as far away from me as I could.
I loved him easily... It wasn't hard when his green eyes watched your every move and his lips held pretty words that danced through my ears.
But he loved me recklessly; he came at me with full speed ahead on marriage and lack of trust.
He loved me dangerously; so much that became afraid to love me at all for fear I would be his all.
I loved him carefully and it was too easy to fall apart when he walked away.
He loved me recklessly and it had become to dangerous for him to keep me around.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 8:54 AM UTC
Picnic
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My friends laugh elsewhere on the beach
while I sit here, alone, counting the waves,
writing and rewriting your name in the sand ...
Confession
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Your image overwhelmed my vision.
As the long nights passed, I became obsessed with your visage.
Then came the moment when I quietly placed my lips to your picture ...
Rain
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why shiver alone in the rain, maiden?
Embrace the one in whose warming love your body and mind would be drenched!
There are no rains higher than the rains of Love,
after which the bright rainbows of separation will glow with the mysteries of hues.
My Body's Moods
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I long for the day when you'll be obsessed with me,
when, forgetting the world, you'll miss me with a passion
and stop complaining about my reticence!
Then I may forget all other transactions and liabilities
to realize my world in your arms,
letting my body's moods guide me.
In that moment beyond boundaries and limitations
as we defy the conventions of veil and turban,
let's try our luck and steal a taste of the forbidden fruit!
Moon
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
All of us passengers,
we share the same fate.
And yet I'm alone here on earth,
and she alone there in the sky!
Vanity
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
His world is so simple, so very different from mine.
So distinct—his dreams and desires.
He speaks rarely.
This morning he wrote: "I saw some lovely flowers and thought of you."
Ha! I know my aging face is no orchid ...
but how I wish I could believe whatever he says, however momentarily!
Keywords/Tags: Perveen Shakir, Urdu, translation, Pakistan, love, passion, picnic, beach, vision, confession, rain, rainbow, hues, forbidden fruit, body, *** orchid, mrburdu
What the Poet Sees
by Michael R. Burch
What the poet sees,
he sees as a swimmer
~~~underwater~~~
watching the shoreline blur
sees through his breath’s weightless bubbles ...
Both worlds grow obscure.
Published by ByLine, Mandrake Poetry Review, Poetically Speaking, E Mobius Pi, Underground Poets, Little Brown Poetry, Little Brown Poetry, Triplopia, Poetic Ponderings, Poem Kingdom, PW Review, Neovictorian/Cochlea, Muse Apprentice Guild, Mindful of Poetry, Poetry on Demand, Poet’s Haven, Famous Poets and Poems, and Bewildering Stories
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 11:29 PM UTC
Everyday i wake up wondering if i will be "normal" today,
my thoughts racing round my mind.
Up and down my moods are like a roller coaster,
Minutes and Hours forever changing rapidly.
one minute i can be happy and smiling,
then like a flick of a switch,
change to rage sadness and pure evil,
I love you yet I hate you too,
Set myself up for the hurt.
I can't control how I feel,
This is all I know how to be,
Yes I want to try to be different
But how can you change who you are?
I hate it when I’m left alone,
I feel like I've been abandoned,
Family hurt me.
Rejected, never did fit in.
I cry with the slightest thing
Hate criticism,
even praise
Don't like to be judged,
I do that myself
my heads saying "No one likes me anyway
Why should I care my?"
Yet my heart whispers
"you do care"
I suffer every day.
On really bad days,
I feel like my world comes crashing down around me,
All I want to do is hide away,
Always trying to fit in,
I'd do anything,
Lie to make me seem right
Manipulative,
I don’t want to be alone.
I hate everything that I am,
always asking myself... who am i?
No identity, I feel empty inside.
I need to be someone else to be liked,
I'll run away from myself.
Impulsive nature,
spending money like no tomorrow.
I laugh yet cry at the same time,
Change my look,
everything just to be liked.
So scared of being rejected and abandoned
I twist everything I hear,
perceived to be hatred for me,
Up go the barriers,
I must protect myself,
I hurt those I care about the most all the time.
Only those who really know me,
See this for what it really is,
Those who don’t know me,
just see an emotional wreck,
A nobody, broken and a mess.
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 8:17 AM UTC
Ignored by a thought
I thought if I ignored him and
his request for spare change
his plight would fade away
And his face would fail my memory
I thought the night was differently quiet
Interrupted by clench of teeth,
****** holes and malice of man
Gun shot, pain, and the victim of a plan
I thought if I ignored the wound
The dream would change moods
The blood drop would be love knots
And the victim would be you
I thought if I ignored the flash of life
Mine would be spared
That the death to come would flee me
And instead you would be here
I thought of ignoring my persistence
And give in to the dark void
But then I thought of loving you
And fought to stay relevant
I thought of a lot of things
But never to give him the change in my pockets
Now I'm a prayer and a fading thought
Ignored by the passing crowd
A layer on the cake walk
An after note on your brow.....(Cont.)
Xin
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 8:18 PM UTC
stripped naked in the figurative sense, I see a girl that is far overdue for a dose of joy. so much emptiness in her eyes, blood flow has become invisible. beauty. oh so much beauty in the way she cares absolutely too much for those that are unaware of her favorite color nevertheless asks how she feels every blue moon. perfectionist could quite possibly be her middle name by the way her heart beats in sync with the spontaneous moods that show their appearance every two days or so. anxiety equals a rapid beat. "if you feel worried then you must act on it" seems to be her philosophy because when she's sad and shaky the heart must go slow.
for,
she.
is.
slow.
when the depression hits and vulnerability only shows its face behind closed doors im sure she would say that she feels as though she's suffocating. suffocating in the figurative sense, where everyone is there watching her but no one can differentiate heavy breathing in basketball practice from a ******** asthma attack.
idiots.
so numb. she's so numb in the figurative sense. you ask her how she is and each time it's an automated "good" as if practiced hundreds of times before a theatre performance. an actress. she's an actress in the literal sense. planting a smile from ear to ear even when it's an obvious gloomy day for everyone else. she puts on a show of happiness that could very much earn her an oscar, if only she were literally in the entertainment business. I can see her falling in the way her back hunches just 10 degrees lower than it had a year ago. I would recommend a doctors appointment but im hoping she learns to fix it on her own. I'm hoping it begins to appear in someone around her that maybe she isn't as okay as she seems. this beautiful perfectionist doesn't just have bad days and doesn't just spare her low moods in spite of upsetting those around her. this beautiful perfectionist doesn't see herself as beautiful. this beautiful perfectionist is so far from perfect.
maybe if someone looked a little deeper in the literal and figurative sense, they would choose to ask, after her automated response of "good", "are you really?"
-mxy
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 9:33 PM UTC
Of all the ****** that i like,
The best would be of lace and white,
But then again, there's so so much,
There's even knickers with no crotch!?,
Those little bras for beginner *****
Or leather gear, for naughty moods,
And not forgetting Bridget Jones,
Come on girls, we've all got those ones.
Those yummy corsets **** us in,
We'll shake our hips and bear a grin,
To tantalise and tease men so,
Our ***** with tassels on, so guys can, ahem, grow.
Those fishnet stockings cost a bomb,
But ladies, that's why we put them on,
We feel so **** and so do they,
So that's why we get them to pay.
Silk and satin, black or red,
Or going commando instead,
What then girls, do we love these things for,
Because they'll only be scattered on our bedroom floor?...
Apr 9, 2010
Apr 9, 2010 at 6:51 AM UTC
The old man paints seashells
for all of the women he has loved.
He takes his husky for walks
along the beach, returning with
a bag of **** and a collection
of spirals and fans, still pregnant
with the whispers of the ocean.
By the window, he licks his brush
and steadies his nervous hands.
He will share a steak with the dog,
and wonder when the best company
became inanimate or at most; unspeaking.
He had long turned his back on Dylan
and Cohen, in favour of empty sound
and the rain hitting the tarp
in the garden. He recalls Diane
and the green of life in her poetry.
Louise, the blue of her moods and the sea.
Each woman had coloured his life
in hopeful hues, oh, and what a mess
he was in their absence.
(even the dog wouldn't sleep beside him)
The old man drew his last breath
when the silence became deafening.
When he realised he could not reclaim
memories through art, or through
the patient analysis of nature.
There was no shape or colour
that had not been created before.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
Yes we did we went out to Phil's
and horked down a meal of fat
not for the old as it'd prolly ****
that's just a matter of fact
Juicy burgers and moist buns
filled with meat and with cheese
no greater feast under the sun
so we ate it quick as you please
We followed it up with Amy's ice cream
creamy and full of the best
something she'd never eaten or seen
putting too shame all the rest
Back at her place
we rolled and we played
we did things that have never been done
Settled our hungers
and settled our moods
our bodies we teased as we sung
I know it's so rude and crude
as she screamed at the top of her voice
beneath her sheets all steamy and lude
"I'm so **** creamy and juicy and moist"
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 11:57 AM UTC
Western coast of Norway.
Relentless fists of salt and sea
Pound against the windows
Facing the openness.
All edible remains after every
Meal, they surrender unto her here.
She feeds them back.
Her moods change daily,
Taking only one life
With every ten thousand she
Nourishes. *We love her. We fear her.
We love her.*
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 8:30 AM UTC
You said you don't even know me anymore
my moods, my personality, my characters
keep on changing like the weather
Morning when it rains
I am sweet , gentle and romantic
afternoon, when its hot and humid
I am mean, I am harsh and I snap at you
...a little grouchy
Well, I really dont know...
but here is the story...
On one sunny sky bright day
Our love story started to bloom
and the whole world cheered and clapped
to celebrate this greatest love story
When all of a sudden a dark cloud appeared
and stole the sunshine smile away
love went into coma... for a year or two
The monsoon rains and again we missed
the gentle love on wet cold nights
Inseparable in the love nest we built
Glued together the whole rainy days
It was midnight when we had a storm
Ugly weather
We were forced to build this wall
and kept our distance again
A whole year in complete vacuum
missed the love nest
but preferred the cocoon better
Today is a warmer day
The sun is coming out lazily
a little bit of warmth in the atmosphere
I tried to smile a little
and I said Hello
You grabbed my hand and told me
Never to change the weather again
I smile with tears in my eyes
reminiscing all the weathers
when we used to love and hate
How much time have we wasted?
This is me... This is you...
We are so much in love
Why must we change with the weather?
I might be Tornado in some days
or hurricane in another
but my heart beats still the same
despite the weather changes
Trust me
My love I never changed
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
Morning sunlight lighting the dark hardwood floors
Pages being turned and voices no louder than a whisper
People shuffling in and out the doors
The rain coming in at last
Shifting the clouds
Now to overcast
Watching silently just barely a glance
Observing life as it is
Hoping for the chance
To feel something more
Become something better
Moods always changing
According to the weather
I sip the burn of this morning roast
Nibble my eggs
Crunch on my toast
People in the park sway on the swings
Probably thinking
Of such trivial things
Man on the corner of the street
Checking the time
He's got somewhere to be
Getting back to the daily grind
A tearful woman sitting on the bench
Crying her heart out
From the guy who called her a *****
Life appears all around us
We choose what to ignore
The sick, the healthy
The rich, the poor.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 2:33 PM UTC
Jealousy
Is hell
Because I do not enjoy
Myself,
And well
I enjoy all of you-
You
With your smooth moves
Perky and peachy attitudes
Teach me
To be as sweet
As you-
Beautiful
Can be cruel
Not like it is on tv,
Or beside me
Everyone shining,
Smiling,
While my smile feels
Like hiding
Under this wax mask
A painted canvus
Of pale and black
Don't look at me
I'm a heartattack
A bad act-
Broken glass
Of a painted doll
I am a leo lioness
Right?
Righteous-
Your hieness
Sparkles on my eyelids
But you see
I have enough pride
To hide it-
Its priceless,
Really hillarious
Sometimes I feel
Like a bad *****
But I'm none of this
I am the pray,
The gazelle in the grass
But I am also the lion
Waiting to attack myself
Because you see,
Jealousy
Is hell,
I am the lion
I am the gazelle
I am heaven and hell
In a vessle of myself
See what you will,
Your critiques are nothing
My only enemy is me
My only savior is me
I am a lion
But I am also
A sheep
Don't look at me
Sometimes I cry in the mirror
Blink my mascara tears,
Blurry mess-
Can't fit in my old dresses
Tearing apart at the seams,
Literally
Filthy
Famish
Crawled out of my skin
And made some bad habits
Declining wealth
Declining health
Laughing as the scales tip-
After all I am a person,
Not permanent
Why should I care
Oh,
But I do
I do when I look at you
You with your talented hands
With your spider lashes
And good moods
Teach me to feel
As good
As you
My lipstick smears and screams
As the paintings on my face mock me
So will my body,
My body thats bruised
And missused
Perfume to cover the *****
They'll see my cherry lips move
But they won't hear me talking
Its perfect,
The mask of confidence
My incompetence
Is a perfect fit
No, really
Its lovely
When I wear it,
People love me!
Because people think
I love myself
No
Jealousy
Is hell,
Beacuse I do not
Love myself
I love everybody else,
Even the ones who
Say I am full of it,
Selfish leo,
Selfish lion
Exaggerated ego-
Winking eyelids
Sparkle,
Wings to my forehead-
I flaunt
What I don't want,
Because you want me to
You want me
To love me
Like you do
All of you
I remember the words
From my mother,
Jealousy
Is not a pretty color-
Its crimson red,
Exposed
Like blood,
I've had to sew it up
No-
Don't look here
Not at my guts,
Look at my eyelids
Are these not enough?!?!
These cherry lips
Tell you to sush
Less of a lioness,
More of a cub
I know
I am my own predator
My own pray
I am
All of the above
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 3:38 PM UTC
I need to love I need to love I need to love
my heart is too big and it doesn't stop growing
and my frantic mind is never slowing
I need to let it go, I need to kiss boys
and kiss girls and kiss people I know,
and strangers with smoky breath
and hazy eyes that won't remember
the way my organs go fizzy and weak
when I feel them breathing, onto my neck
and near my ribcage, my ribcage
too close to my heart, too close too close too close
I need to develop child like emotions
lustful moods swinging between one person
to another person - I need to let go of what's in my heart
this is the only way I know how and it's killing me
I need love I need real love
I need fake love I need assurance
I need feelings that demolish my heart
send it plummeting to dust and ashes
and then the love will disperse and my heart
will be crushed and it will be the end
and then a new night will come with
new boys and new girls and new love
and it will build itself back up but stronger
and the muscle in my chest will release itself
the chains will break the ropes will untie
it is ready to love but I am not
and I will feel again
I will feel too much
I will feel things I don't understand
I will feel in ways I know far too well
and my mind will no longer function
in the correct way, it will not work
my brain will be submissive to my heart
I am scared of feeling again
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
Even something distant
Can give enough light,
Longer than just a while,
Carrying vivid, tender moods,
Rising like green plants,
Despite the cold, acid rain.
A hypnotic, sweet mantra,
A grateful murmur,
Whispered my true name,
Coming on time,
Before I closed the door.
I am at home now.
In a quiet zone,
On my piece of uneven,
Creaky floor,
Grounded by gravitation,
Free from messy thoughts,
Just to save the plumb line,
Not to collapse inward
Into an inner gap
Of what it should mean.
I shift my wardrobe
Of emotional scripts
To clean a tame mess,
Collected into short breaths,
Like colorful, sharp stamps,
Justifying a fading reason to stay,
rather than give up and go away.
Yes, I know that I can.
So, what am I afraid of?
That I am ready
To drop the weight
Of past attachment,
To feel the lightness
Of being loved?
To accept human warmth,
Enfolding peacefully
A fractured existence.
Jul 30, 2025
Jul 30, 2025 at 10:41 AM UTC
I got on a train not knowing
Where I was going.
Platform one
Off I run.
Very nearly at the first stop
Mum said, ‘What a bottle of pop!’
Of course! Nan’s fault, too many sweets
But I loved my Nan and all her lovely treats.
I could see up and coming was the second halt,
Moods start swinging, of course! it’s my fault.
Mum gives advice, I still wasn’t listening,
Oh, but look at his eyes glistening.
Last stop. Hit on the breaks!
Luckily, I’d learnt from my mistakes.
I finally decided to take on Mum’s advice.
Time for tea and cake. Do you want a slice?
Mar 12, 2012
Mar 12, 2012 at 12:22 PM UTC