"mortifies" poems
***What if I say, I am not like the others?
Are you afraid of seeing my bloodshot eyes?
It ain’t a delusion of your vision
It ain’t a theory of your hostile mind
Its just an authority to reveal high
As you ****** up in the midnight.
What if I declare, I like to be a pothead?
It ain’t a crime of your filthy society
It ain’t a ****** of your hypersexual beauty
Its just a power to absorb black hole
As you get dissolved in the infinity.
What if we believe, we are united peace?
Our intoxication could never be slayer as your humanity diminishes
Our immune could never be a flame as your democracy fire burns
Our dealing could never be an acrid as your judgments villainous
Our indignation could never be a pretender as your sensibility veiled
Our lonesome shadow could never be a congress of love as your realization mortifies
And our congregation of morality must have been psychedelic painkiller.
What if we deny, we are insignificant existence?
So, who are you crippling our bloodshot eyes, A Social featherbrain?
Who are you to stop having "dopetherone" in the town, A godly crusader?
Who are you to proclaim the rule against your mind, A phrenetic lawyer?
What if we deny, we are insignificant existence?
What if we believe, we are united peace?
We will keep walking with our head held high.***
April' 2015
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 2:07 PM UTC
So stick up ivy and the bays,
And then restore the heathen ways.
Green will remind you of the spring,
Though this great day denies the thing.
And mortifies the earth and all
But your wild revels, and loose hall.
Could you wear flowers, and roses strow
Blushing upon your ******* warm snow,
That very dress your lightness will
Rebuke, and wither at the ill.
The brightness of this day we owe
Not unto music, masque, nor show:
Nor gallant furniture, nor plate;
But to the manger’s mean estate.
His life while here, as well as birth,
Was but a check to pomp and mirth;
And all man’s greatness you may see
Condemned by His humility.
Then leave your open house and noise,
To welcome Him with holy joys,
And the poor shepherd’s watchfulness:
Whom light and hymns from heaven did bless.
What you abound with, cast abroad
To those that want, and ease your load.
Who empties thus, will bring more in;
But riot is both loss and sin.
Dress finely what comes not in sight,
And then you keep your Christmas right.
3k
Mum, I have dreams
that I wish would come true.
That doesn't mean I neglect
the ones dreamt by you.
Dad, I have wishes
that I dream at night.
That doesn't mean I feel
that yours aren't worth a fight.
Mum, I know I am difficult
and that I nag and whinge.
But your words are sometimes painful
and often make me cringe.
Dad, I know I am different
and that I prefer being on my own.
But, you always misunderstand, thinking
that I like being alone.
Mum, I am sad
and I always hide my tears
because I am unable to fathom
what is it that I fear.
Dad, I am frightened
of something I don't know.
It mortifies me so much
that I find it hard to show.
I do love you both
and I know I rarely say it
because I feel I'm born in a world
where I shall never fit.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 6:11 AM UTC
when it hit you home.
*you’re eyes closed at shutter speeds,
when the heart sinks,
or sank.
and each blink individually,
starts to take a second of your life from me,
frivolously.
and your mind focuses,
but like a broken lens,
you nictate, nictate,
like you’re stuck on repeat.
and you dictate the aftermath,
like you have admitted defeat.
as cynosure slips from your fingertips.
the closure in the locus.
you spoke to me in hindsight,
and you spared me in the moment.
still glowing, albeit, caliginously.
you described the bright lights in defiance,
lying sweetly,
in a conversation, in constellations,
i’ll remember you in full bloom;
in keepsakes;
we wished to the the stars aligned,
shining flowers for you in the nights sky.
whilst you fought for your life, in kind.
high as a kite, twinkle in your eye,
as you guide your life
away.
still in spite,
of your perdition,
the latest addition of you.
when i see you in ruin.
through the body as it mortifies,
and your fortified smile,
tortured denial,
a defiant forcefield,
shatters and eviscerate,
and as you evaporate;
i see your lips crack through dryness,
my queen and highness;
i’ve not seen you laugh for a while.
and as I see time pass,
from you astute,
a calmness in your eyes grew,
and now when you belly laugh,
you gasp for air,
it’s as if,
not much is inside there.
as you stutter and stammer,
judgement impaired,
scared.
and yellow coloured,
tinged skin,
bed ridden
in affliction,
to me,
to you.
as it dawned on me
and then it dawned on you.
when it finally hit you home,
nothing left but skin and bones,
the final petal of a rose,
fell.*
**I still miss you.
I miss you still.
I always have,
always will.**
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 6:08 AM UTC
A voice comes on the radio
cutting off my music
screaming with self importance
I turn it off. My music keeps going
the fine art that is “Satisfaction”
keeps coming.
The dog walker to my right
briefly stumbles
and the dog sprints
off.
A moment later a squirrel is dead.
The poor owner looks
mortifies as he scolds the dog.
I turn away to watch a pigeon fly away
as a vulture comes in before he
slips something to the dog.
I start to wonder what that may
have been
until I remember the lyrics
of my song.
“Can’t be a man cause
he doesn’t smoke same cigarettes as me”
Amen. I hit the skip button
happy with how it even
in the 60’s people were
the same as they are now
An artist comes up to me
with a peculiar painting
“hey” he says
“not interested” I retort
before I can convince myself
otherwise.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC
The same girl who always cares about everyone
even if nobody cares about her;
is the same girl whom her friends tell her she's pretty
but she thinks otherwise.
Is the same girl who seems to be happy,
but has scars that show otherwise.
Is the same girl that when she looks herself at a mirror,
finds every flaw on her body
and has no fingers left to keep counting.
Is the same girl who finds difficult to sleep at night
because she can not stop thinking
about things that have happened in the past that still hurt her.
Is the same girl who mortifies herself
by what people think.
Is the same girl that can be surrounded by thousands of people,
but always feel alone.
Is the same girl who helps everybody
knowing who most needs help
is herself.
Is the same girl who hates her face, her body
and everything about herself.
Is the same girl whom you will see smiling of happiness,
but most of the time
she will be filled with sadness.
Is the same girl who's looking for happiness,
although happiness
is not looking for her.
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC
comfort
safety
everything I needed
& she was holding me.
forehead to forehead I'm crying
& she's so calm so slow so high so careful
not enclosing me
just there
as I'm buckling under the weight
of the pieces I've just
put together.
I'm sitting there
forever with her hand on the nape of my neck,
pixie queen eyes never faltering,
meeting my pleading
alarmed gaze. "It's okay baby girl"
she whispers it
over & over
she reaches up & presses her thumbs down on my airways shaking me & my head keeps smacking the concrete. Both a crack and a thump in my skull. But later it's me: beating her face into the floor breaking her nose her face all apart makes me feel sickeningly alive, mortifies & exhilarates at once. I'm terrified of her, yes, but more so of myself. "It's okay baby girl." Is it? Because night after night sleeping pill after sleeping pill I'm dreaming of ending it all.
Oh, of all the ways I could end.
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 9:15 PM UTC
He forages on my doubts
Keeps me sleepless with distress
The real me is envious of me
She is all he wants
Can she stand the real me?
I resent the disgraceful me
Can't look at my reflection in the mirror
He threatens my core existence
So I fight to keep him burried
He mocks, taunts and mortifies
Even as she tells me I have beautiful eyes
It is good she cant peep inside through those windows
And see the struggles inside
I keep him padlocked in the depths
Listen to music and tour nice places
But in the quietest of moments
He creeps back to me
Dampens my spirit
Telling me I am way below
Not good enough
That I will ***** up as always
It is worrying what he can do
Destroy a lifetime in a day
Turn love to hate in a moment
But I wont let him hurt her
I'll leave her if I have to
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
I thought college would set me free,
I turned 18 and the world opened up,
Rent and taxes and piercings and drugs,
Its all okay.
No one judges you for being wild when you're young.
No one believes you'll last, but that's okay,
failure is expected.
After all,
you're just a
lost teen
on the verge
of
adulthood.
And I love it.
I love the drugs, the drunken nights,
The memories I am making,
I love all the things I was told to hate.
And hate the things I should love.
I hate the people.
I hate talking.
I hate this anxiety that isn't even new,
not brought on by responsibility, or even
drama among my peers,
rather this drama
takes me back
to when I
was small
and hiding while
my parents fought.
The pain in my
stomach and
detached
robotic
self
assurance.
I've always been like this. Practical. Analytical.
I've never broken down, cried in front of people,
or yelled or showed aggression.
Instead I passed out from trying,
trying to be normal because
when mommy and daddy
are fighting you don't
show fear.
I didn't realize
until tonight
that at the
lowest I go
back to
childhood.
I don't look at myself much because I
don't want to draw attention or
upset others. I'm too concerned with
perception. It matters what others think.
Mother always said that.
But maybe passing out, maybe panic attacks
aren't a normal method of catharsis.
Maybe I should yell
or argue but that
mortifies me.
I can't be loud,
you don't want
them to hear
because
then mommy
will say
look
you've
upset
her.
I don't want anyone to fight because of me.
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 2:39 AM UTC