"necessarily" poems
Sometimes you open yourself up to a person because you feel and believe that they're different and maybe this time they won't break your heart and that your love will be requitted. So you go out on a limb and open up so much of yourself to this person. Things that you're afraid to tell others about because of fear of being judged or rejected. But there's just something about this person that allows you to tell them everything. You become so comfortable in the presence of that person that you openly admit your flaws, you don't hide it. You just completely lose yourself in love and in the thought and concept of being loved, of being in a relationship and of being with someone that you can be yourself with. The idea of that person just completely excites you and everything about them makes you happy. Seeing them and hearing their voice just helps you in an inexplicable manner and being with them is an emotion of complete comfortability on its own. You learn to love this person and you accept their flaws and differences. You accept how they might not necessarily love eating McDonalds as much as you do or they are crazy about sci-fi movies where you can't even get yourself past watching a chick flick.
But that's just it, you don't mind.
You don't mind because love is about sacrifices.
Its about sacrificing your weekly episode of The Vampire Diaries to watch the most recent sports updates.
Because you'd rather lose the argument than to lose the person. You'd sacrifice a part of your daily routine all for love. The worst part is that nothing is guaranteed. You're not guaranteed how long you will be in a relationship with this person. You're not guaranteed complete happiness and you're not guaranteed that things are going to be perfect. You just have to trust this person and have faith. Believe the best and hope that everything will work out for the. Best. Believe that even if you break up with this person, that you're going to be ok. Everything is going to be ok, and that new beginnings are perfectly acceptable. Believe that you're going to overcome heartbreak of any kind. You just have to believe that someone out there is looking for someone like you.
What others see Wrong in you just might be the exact thing that will make someone else fall in love with you. And you need to be realistic. Not all relationships last forever. Some relationships are there for lessons and experiences. So that very person that you completely open yourself up to, can break your heart. It could be during or even after the relationship.
But its all part of life I guess. You'll never know how to love someone wholeheartedly if you haven't been hurt before. You just have to turn your heartbreak in to something positive, make the most out of your situation. See the light in the darkness. But learn to deal with things too. Find closure in what happened to you and don't leave a relationship with unfinished business. Because unfinished business will have to be finished sooner or later, and I think sooner is better. Allow yourself time to heal too. Opening yourself up to someone that much can hurt you a lot, and everything you had with that person will be completely lost in an instant. And you're gonna need to come to terms with that. Remember that what's meant to be , will be.
Love, is a complicated thing, and you're never quite sure how things could possibly turn out to be. You're just gonna go out on a limb each time hoping for the best and patiently waiting for your happily ever after with a special person.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 1:00 AM UTC
I care.
and its the one thing that causes me the most pain.
It breaks me to see and to discover that the people that I care for the most don't care at all, not necessarily for me. But not at all completely.
I have felt the deepest pain due to this "problem"
and no, I can't just stop caring.
Its not that easy.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
Life is like a pizza. You crave for a larger one, thinking that you're hungry enough to finish everything yourself. That's like yourself 10 years ago, wanting to become an adult. Now that you're halfway there, all you want to do is go back to being a kid. Sometimes the pizza is too hot, and you've got to wait for it to settle down before shoving it down your throat. The same way, life gets a little rough sometimes, so you sit and wait impatiently, till it gets better. Sometimes, the pizza's too cold. So you heat it up a little. The same way, life gets a little boring sometimes. So you get yourself involved in **** that doesn't necessarily need your attention, under the name of "you only live once". Some pizza toppings are pushed away, because you don't like how it tastes. The same way, you neglect people just because you don't like them. On the other hand, you can't get enough of some pizza toppings. They're too good to stop eating. Those are like family and best friends, you just can't stay away. Although sometimes too much of the same topping makes you want to throw up, you order it the next time anyway, just because you like it. All said and done, at the end of the day, you finish the pizza. That's like death. You really wish there was more pizza, but there's just no more. Sometimes, there's too much, you throw it away. That symbolises suicide. When there's too much to deal with, and you just end it. The only difference is, you can always order another box of pizza, but you can't order another box of life.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 8:09 AM UTC
Oh, to be a poet
one must be so emotional.
Well, no. Not necessarily.
We're only really capable
of understanding feeling,
investigating our emotions.
It doesn't mean we cry all day,
or pass nights in dark rooms moping.
We have lives; come home from work
or get in on a night bus back;
it's from all this experience
that we can draw out fact.
From mundane to extraordinary
we will become inspired.
Our strength is versatility
and life ignights our fires.
So, we do not all have to be
constricted to intensity
-to ponder oh-so seriously
on what it simply means 'to be'.
We can be strong, flirty, or mean
or to the brim with confidence.
For, what does 'to be a poet' mean,
if you cannot explore yourself?
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 11:53 AM UTC
Time isn't wasted at the end of the day
When you're in bed thinking about all the things
You could've done,
You could've said,
All the empty boxes left on your to do list
Time is wasted
When you're standing on a rock at the edge of a waterhole
And decide to not jump
When you're sitting in your car trying to justify reasons
For not going in
When you anxiously hit backspace
Instead of expressing how you truly feel
When you ignore your heart that's screaming
"You deserve better."
It's lost in I could have and I should have,
In missed opportunities,
In letting fears override judgement
Time is not necessarily wasted
In passing minutes, months, years
We waste time by
Counting seconds,
And by letting seconds pass
When we could've made
Those seconds count
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 10:12 PM UTC
The punitive silences,
the bad atmosphere they generate,
the mind-games they use to try to **** you in
are telltale signs of the toxic person.
It could be your in-laws, a parent, coworker, your boss or spouse,
a sibling, a roommate, boyfriend or girlfriend,
someone you want out of the house.
Toxic people want to make you miserable.
Especially if you're a decent sort, they hone in on you like a heat-seeking missile.
They spew their negativity and blame it on you.
They lie constantly, or twist the facts to suit their changing needs of the moment
and they never apologize (so don't expect an apology, ever).
With a toxic person there is no reciprocity.
They sprinkle their toxic dust on you. It makes them feel better.
Their ulterior goal is to demean you, to make you feel smaller.
They project their worst tendencies onto you,
find fault with you for traits you don't possess---
a shadow of the **** that lurks inside them.
They try to dictate the emotional atmosphere
through their attitude or twisted mood.
They drain you of your energy, bring you down,
They'll always find a reason why your good news isn't great news.
Their agenda is to cut you down to their size,
to manipulate and control
to **** you over while they play the injured party.
Confront the bully. Speak up to the manipulator, the trickster, the backstabber.
but beyond a certain point
there is no point in arguing with them.
Don't try to change the toxic person. You can't.
You'd have better luck changing an orangutan into **** sapiens.
Only a shrink could change them, and then only if they hit rock-bottom.
Don't try to justify yourself. It's a waste of time which would only draw you deeper into their net.
Set boundaries to keep their negativity in check.
Stop trying to please them.
Let that toxic somebody in your life know you're onto them
and they can't get away with it anymore.
Don't fall into their trap, don't get caught up in their life-dramas
or try to get them out of trouble. Don't let them instill guilt in you.
But try not to take their toxicity personally.
Remember, it's them, not you. You are not to blame
though they desperately want you to feel you've done something wrong.
If necessary (and if possible), delete the toxic person from your life and move on.
Know when enough is enough.
Saying good riddance doesn't necessarily mean you hate them, it means
your own well-being comes first.
Immunize yourself. Preserve your inner strength.
Set your own rules.
And, when possible, just walk away.
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 2:23 AM UTC
“Robin Williams didn’t die from suicide. I only just heard the sad, sad news of Robin Williams’s death. My wife sent me a message to tell me he had died, and, when I asked her what he died from, she told me something that nobody in the news seems to be talking about.
When people die from cancer, their cause of death can be various horrible things – seizure, stroke, pneumonia – and when someone dies after battling cancer, and people ask “How did they die?”, you never hear anyone say “pulmonary embolism”, the answer is always “cancer”. A Pulmonary Embolism can be the final cause of death with some cancers, but when a friend of mine died from cancer, he died from cancer. That was it. And when I asked my wife what Robin Williams died from, she, very wisely, replied “Depression”.
The word “suicide” gives many people the impression that “it was his own decision,” or “he chose to die, whereas most people with cancer fight to live.” And, because Depression is still such a misunderstood condition, you can hardly blame people for not really understanding. Just a quick search on Twitter will show how many people have little sympathy for those who commit suicide…
But, just as a Pulmonary Embolism is a fatal symptom of cancer, suicide is a fatal symptom of Depression. Depression is an illness, not a choice of lifestyle. You can’t just “cheer up” with depression, just as you can’t choose not to have cancer. When someone commits suicide as a result of Depression, they die from Depression – an illness that kills millions each year. It is hard to know exactly how many people actually die from Depression each year because the figures and statistics only seem to show how many people die from “suicide” each year (and you don’t necessarily have to suffer Depression to commit suicide, it’s usually just implied). But considering that one person commits suicide every 14 minutes in the US alone, we clearly need to do more to battle this illness, and the stigmas that continue to surround it. Perhaps Depression might lose some its “it was his own fault” stigma, if we start focussing on the illness, rather than the symptom. Robin Williams didn’t die from suicide. He died from Depression*. It wasn’t his choice to suffer that.”
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 2:19 PM UTC
But maybe it not really sadness for a reason.
What if you've just been hurt a lot so the feeling becomes normal.
You know; that sad feeling?
It's not really sadness you show either.
It's not a sadness where you cry all the time and you're always frowning.
You hide the sadness with smiles and laughs.
Convincing yourself you're completly fine.
You get used to it.
Or maybe it's not the kind of sadness where you have a reason to be sad.
You just are.
You don't want to see anyone
or talk
or eat
or do anything.
Maybe we get so used to feeling this sadness in a way we are addicted;
because that's all we know?
But maybe it's not necessarily the sadness we get addicted to.
Rather,
what we do to stop the sadness.
Maybe we really just get addicted to whatever is going to **** the pain at the end of the day.
Or maybe that pain at the end of the day is what's going to cause us to finally feel something;
because we've been numb for so long.
We arn't necessarily sad, but we arn't really happy either.
We just are.
But maybe at the same time maybe we are sad.
And we're sad because we numb,
and we don't care anymore.
But maybe we should care?
Becuase when we don't care we tend to hurt others.
But they hurt us so why not hurt them?
I mean, isn't it only fair they feel the same pain.
Or maybe...
We all have secret addictions no one knows.
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 1:57 AM UTC
The evolution of art never halts
Once we began dancing around fire
Our feet couldn't stop
A place in our lives
Where our subpar seeds
Could be seen as glowing trees
That's the way I feel about my poetry
It reminds me a lot of me
I reread it and rewrite it so often
By the end it seems unoriginal and plain
And all I can hope
Is the themes and ideas that were the inspirational genesis
Remain intact
Art walks a tightrope over the most unpredictable factor
The audience
They are the other half of art
Their power cannot be overstated
And as time progresses
Their power grows
And the importance of art always extends an equal distance
But the stronger art becomes
The more it asks of it's audience
In many cases
The audience is not ready to take the call
This is one of those times
Here at the current pinnacle of art
Surfing the web
A wonderful chance as
Art is a reflection of people and society
The Internet is people and society
But just as we listen to songs
To decide what concert to go to
Or watch trailers
To decide what movie to see
We like what we like
And put blinders on to find it
Like moths to fire
We could do amazing things
If we could harness the potential
Of our collective conscious
But the threat of losing our individuality
Is too great for us
Unable to accept
Our individuality is always in the context of our cosmic existence
We are part of something greater
And we can't escape that
Even in death
We feed what lies beneath
The memory of our lives
Shrinks to obscurity
The maggots that cover our corpses
Flourish to maturity
Everything this world creates is art
And we are it's most complex creation
Not necessarily the best
We just have the most parts
And the maggots that use our dead bodies for sustenance
Were once the monsters that roamed this Earth
They had no nationality
Or political affiliations
Or religion
And they're still here
Waiting to reclaim their throne
Once "smarter" species seek suicide
Jul 26, 2017
Jul 26, 2017 at 10:19 PM UTC
[Hashtag]MeToo
Here it goes again,
trending on Insta and Facebook.
Where real awareness stems.
Mind the sarcasm,
social media’s a powerful tool
not knockin’ that.
I wonder though,
does the mind of the follower
understand the context of the hash?
Do they get it should be a call to action?
Not necessarily at the keyboard.
More like on the couch with their children,
Giving the conversation of consent.
Most people do not even understand it by definition .
The meaning of yes and no convoluted by scenario.
Bias boils over like milk and water over full flame.
The posts bubble out and stick to the side of the pan,
quickly drying; leaving their mark.
Until the soap and warm water flows over them,
and the steam evaporates the confessions.
Until they are again whispers we all hear and know.
It’s whispers from the alley ways,
and from married couples bedroom doors.
The woman is the property,
the man is the proprietor.
We refuse to address the real problems,
the failures of our up-bringers.
We point fingers and slay names
yet the statistics provide the truth.
One in four for females, one in sixteen for males.
We all have been violated, slandered, and forced to say
[Hashtag]MeToo
Not going to say I did not share it,
I know the touch of unwanted hands,
the invasive ***********
All for the sake of the insanity,
in repeating a useless gesture.
The only difference is
My hashtag went to my Senator.
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 9:25 AM UTC
I just don't understand
why so many Guitarists,
and moreover Musicians,
so disdain drop tunings;
Just because that technique
may well differ from yours
does not necessarily mean
either is inherently inferior.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 11:02 AM UTC
Meeting you is never a coincidence,we are fated together
It has been ordained that we will met on this day
I thought I lost it all but at the end I gained even more all because I met a special lady "U"
We might be far away
Distance doesn't necessarily ruin a relationship,
because we don't have to see each other everyday to be in love
It Is true that angels are made to be in heaven but some angels are sent on earth to do a special work and am glad you are my angel
I was dark before you came,
i had no love, nor a heart,
as i was lonely, full oh shame,
but now you are here, and our love will never be apart
Your beautiful face light up my world each time I look at your picture
I love to see your beautiful face that makes me say God Almighty you are really great
Your voice so powerful that It brought me into the world
Into the world of laughs and smiles
That walks along with me everyday
To bring me joy for endless miles
Am here writing about u
Singing about you
Dreaming about you
Thinking about you
Playing back all your voices
Looking at your pictures to bright up my day
Remember to say me Hi to your beautiful nieces
All I could say is God thank u for creating that beautiful day I set my eye on you CHIAMAKA
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 8:58 AM UTC
A lot has been said about environ-mental pollution
Okay, can we drop the environ for a second
How about the mental pollution in this generation
The internet loads us with data but not necessarily useful information
I wonder, do we have a sieve in our brains
that filters the data as it drains
Or we absorb them all, to clutter up our minds
Gigabytes of junks downloaded into our mental and emotional system
I was on the internet to seek information
But my mental system received Ads injection
Causing a buy this, buy that stimulation
You are not okay if you don't have this or have that
You don't look good, if you're not shaped like this or like that
What we ingest from the internet is 40% information and 60% malware
Don't quote me
Just an opinion that I want to share
This pollution is **** real and it scares!
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 10:18 PM UTC
I thought I understood distance
When I learned at school it is defined as
“The amount of space between two points.”
I learned distance can be measured in various units
As steps, kilometres and miles
or even intervals of time.
I thought I understood distance
When I counted 2362 steps walking to school
And noticed my dad’s car meter increasing two miles
In three minutes driving me back home.
But my understanding had changed when I started measuring longer distances.
And attempting to cross them.
I travelled a distance measured in kilometres and hours to see him.
Such distances can be easily crossed.
Either I took the next train, or drove my car
Distance as an amount of space was two thousand kilometres
And distance as an amount of time was only a few hours.
I thought I understood distance,
But never the amount of space between two specific points;
My lips and his lips.
I travelled a distance measured in bottles of wine and years to kiss him.
Such distances can’t be easily crossed.
I could walk miles of skin
And distance as an amount of space between us
Could extend tiresome.
But such distances aren’t necessarily a barrier.
I have crossed all the oceans we created
I counted all the bodies
And I have indulged in his lips.
It took me two bottles of wine and twenty years
To actually understand distance
But my understanding is obsolete
For him and I ,
Are still two distant entities.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 7:54 AM UTC
Maturity is not a matter of how old, how smart or how successful you are;
It has everything to do with how well you manage walking through fire.
Maturity is not just the ability to have *** or not to have ***
It has to do with one’s ability to empathize, feel and connect with another human being, and balance one’s passion with compassion.
Maturity does not necessarily mean that you can support yourself in every each way.
But it does mean that you don’t base your peace and happiness on the emotional support, praise, affirmation or approval of others.
Maturity has nothing to do with how charming you are or how socially graceful you have made yourself to be; it has much to do with how you handle your own anger, fear, lust, greed, jealousy and other inner demons when you are away from the limelight.
Maturity does not mean to live one’s life seriously or cautiously all the time;
It is also to know when is the time to relax, to forget oneself and dance wildly as if no one is watching.
Maturity is not to value what the world values, or to despise what the world despises.
It is to see treasure in what the world discards, and magic in what is ordinary.
Maturity is knowing that one does not have to be “perfect” all the time;
It has to do with how well we take failure, rejection, betrayal and defeat and learn from them.
Maturity is realizing that one does not always have to agree with what everybody else believes in; it is the ability to formulate one’s own opinion, makes one’s own decision and having the courage to be different.
Maturity is not the ability to win many friends or attract many lovers.
It is the ability to generate joy and fulfillment from within, without relying on the company of others.
Maturity is the ability to enjoy one’s solitude and silence in the darkness of the night.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 12:53 AM UTC
Rules:
1.You have to write a poem on the given prompt for each day [in the given order] and then share it with fellow challenge takers (optional but recommended) by posting what you wrote in your blog or on Facebook or wherever. To make sharing and tracking easier, you can use this hashtag: #eleven11poetrychallenge
2. The poem can be of any length and the prompt can be interpreted anyway you want. Poems can be written in English or Nepali.
3. The whole idea is to write, share, grow and have fun! So if you are cool with it, check this space for daily prompt.
Prompts:
Day one: A poem from the perspective of an inanimate object
Day two: A poem in the format of a conversation
Day three: Write a poem that tells a story (with a beginning, middle, end..but not necessarily in that order), which is completely imaginary or is not based on a reality that YOU know of.
Day four: A wishlist, with 11 of your wishes.
Day five: Write a Haiku. Or two.
Day six: Let's talk about *** baby! [Write a poem about *** (not *** and gender, 'sex' if we are unclear.]
Day seven: Only sixteen--a poem about the person you were when you were sixteen [or about the person you want to be, if you are not yet 16]
Day eight: A poem describing a photograph or painting.
Day nine: Write a letter to your murderer.
Day ten: A poem about your worst nightmare.
Day Eleven: Write a poem about yourself, in Nepali. IF you already write in Nepali, that is great. If you don't, then this prompt s your chance
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 6:40 AM UTC
I love her.
No not ******** worldly,
But softly, purely , celestially.
Obsessively?
Not necessarily, just completely,
selfishly and I'm sorry.
I love her unconditionally, some say unconventionally.
But they don't understand me.
Yes...I love her.
Most spiritually, asexually, platonically and wholly.
I love her, truly, honestly, musically and poetically...
She doesn't have to love me.
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 9:07 AM UTC
A thought sometimes forms
I live too much
yet I do too little.
Woken at strange hours,
never asleep.
Rapt in raps
or wrapped in riddles
Chained to links
or hammered to handle
stubbed to bone
Mens et
Manus
There is time yet, I swear
To flourish
To dream
To make
To be
To do
To create
Will I?
We'll see
There's time yet to tell
Be yourself, they say
The best you you can be
But once more— Will I have time
To edit
I live less
I do less
Portfolio: empty
or at least, locked away.
Excitement too.
Blank slate
Blank palette
Is there any paint?
Can I truly make
excitement saturate?
Will I be able to place
value as I see fit?
Can the world be hewn slimmer, slicker
Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger
Tis daft I think, to amuse such a notion
But not necessarily so daft to be wrong
Emerson called it misunderstood,
Shaw found it unreasonable
But ay, theres the rub
That bed once made, must be lain in and
all dreams which might be had are alone not enough
Bloom effects don't work outside the movies.
Ideas are trash, these are recession times
Deflations made them a farthing a dozen
Started 10.03.11
Unfinished
D.B. Guy
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:57 AM UTC
2018
Does it necessarily called sad even when there's no tears?
Does it necessarily called scar even when there's no mark?
Does it necessarily called pain, even when it doesn't show?
Heart.
Break.
Heartbreak.
I am used to hearing this word on a daily basis.
Maybe a little too often, but my point here is, everyone knows someone 'utters' that they are in a heartbreak once in a while.
So, what is heartbreak to you?
"When someone can't keep their promises while they have the chance to." —Alessandra A.
"Uncertainty." —Samuel Wijaya
"Friends who leave." —Vivian Loo
"Being a disappointment." —Ryon Regasa
"When the butterflies are no longer there." —Calvina Izumi
"Seeing him smile, but I'm not the reason." —Anonymous
"When someone you love, has another name in his/her heart." —Evadne Richard
"When an effort to love can't be seen anymore because it is sealed shut by a mistake." —David Halim
"When you finally meet someone you love sincerely and somehow they start distancing themselves, and you don't even talk to them anymore and you don't even know why."—Natasha
These are some opinions from my friends that probably represent some/most of your thoughts about a heartbreak, at least describe what comes first to your mind after hearing that word.
And those opinions also described mine, and mostly represent some of the heartbreak(s) that had occured in my life.
Now,
concluding all the opinions above
How would I myself define what heartbreak is?
I would define it as an invisible yet irresistible pain.
Headache is a type of pain.
And heartbreak is also a type of pain.
But we all know that both of them are completely different.
When you're having a headache, you know exactly where it hurts.
But when you're having a heartbreak, it just hurts.
You don't know exactly where the pain came from,
even when some referred to their chest ('cause it's where their heart is) or anywhere else, it's actually just the side effect of having a heartbreak itself.
Just enough explanation to state that heartbreak is like a nowhere and everywhere type of pain.
You can't see and you can't know where it hurts, but it's real. As if it was invisible as it is uncertain.
Just because you can't really point out where it hurts, doesn't mean it's not there.
And another thing about heartbreak is, you can't resist it. No matter how hard you try.
There is no painkiller for your heartbreak, and even if you use something as a pain killer (such as alcohol?), it doesn't necessarily works as one.
It doesn't make the pain go away, it just distracts you from what you're feeling, temporarily.
It shifts your attention and feelings into something less noteworthy for a moment, and then the next day the pain is still going to be there.
You can try to resist it, but only time that can make all of that fades.
And even when it fades, it doesn't go away.
It never will.
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 9:11 AM UTC
Hear ye, hear ye
hearken from the medieval times of old
where knights in the round once roamed
jousting with deeds fought in truth and honor
to protect the weak, the helpless, the oppressed
with an ideology lurking since the dawn of time
that all are born free, unshackled from contrived ordeals
only to soar high with the eagles to become one with the heavens
and bask in the glory of serving the frailty and holiness of mankind
Hear ye, hear ye
it’s Merlin conjuring a magical spell for the spirit
to behold, to marvel, new stages of self-enlightenment
where the essence of the King invades sleeping visions
possibly foretelling ominous events awaiting new missions
or predestined journeys one must endure to become so bold
in knowledge and wisdom offered, living in this world’s mold
not necessarily realized, instead shrouded with unimpeded urges
akin to the signs found in youth, immaturity, the close-minded
Hear ye, hear ye
the quest to sip from the Carpenter’s silver chalice
and taste charitable love for family, friends, and foes
where reckless pride and hatred are speared with the arrow
forged in devotion of a noble belief, tempered with selfless feats
where the sun rises and sets on the wicked actions of human nature
slaughtering the divine lights prematurely, locked within many souls
yet crusades against evil continues, no retreat, no regrets, no surrender
price to uphold the spirit of Camelot, payment in full, services rendered.
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 1:36 AM UTC
In My Salad Days
Salad Days
**Wikipedia:
Modern use, especially in the United States, refers to a person's heyday when somebody was at the peak of his/her abilities, not necessarily in that person's youth.**
~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Salad
Hints of tints of golden
pear skins,
combine with
ruby'd cranberries
each a face, the cheeks of alcoholic old men,
each wrinkle,
a life's recording.
All are mates for the
marcona almonds
nestling, playing hide n' go seeking
tween silk sheeted leaves of
butter lettuce.
All dressed to the nines,
underneath a top hatted, cravatted, Fred Astaire
marinade.
Coated, bathed, loved,
protected by a vinegar of balsams,
aged grape must, pressed,
a lovely, desirable color,
a brown and bronzed rust,
pressed, then left,
to easy rest for
oh so many years,
like I do, easy resting,
when you feed me in
My Salad Days.
The Days
Though it was a life, decades destructed
Millenniums of de minimus,
Forty plus Seders of exile, of hell,
Marked by promises, whispers, horseradish tears of
Next Year and Jerusalem,
Time steeped in a tradition of patient waiting.
Each year, recorded by a spot of red wine
Purposely Spilled,
By my father on unbleached Passover tablecloth,
To example, to symbolize that
Messiness in life,
Is O.K.
The Salad Days
Salad served with irony generous,
When beard greyed and scraggly,
White speckled, wisps of sea salt,
All my youthful greenery, long wilted.
Yet the words herein writ are my
Afikomen, my just dessert,
My victory song of Hallelujah
Just before we eat, celebrating
My Feast of Ascension, marking a
Delayed Arrival, yet right-on time of
My Salad Days.
It was only when
I was resurrected as two bodies,
A pair of cuffed links coupled,
In My Salad Days,
With the taste of freedom,
A first-born infant survivor,
Was I rebirthed, and to the fore, risen.
When words fell from smiling lips, and
Rain and tears flew upwards, and
Each and every breath was an
Amen.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 1:44 PM UTC
"My daughter,
when you grow up (enough)
to be able to brandish self-sovereignty
tempered by self-discipline
I only hope that if and when you may choose
to try whatever drugs may appeal to you
you are least fortunate enough
to have access to clean ones
and a safe enough and comfortable enough environment
in which to study your interrelationship with them,
intellectually, physiologically, psychologically, spiritually, and socially,
but not necessarily in that order.
I won't tell you what to do,
but my advice is this:
Don't eat yellow snow:
don't snort yellow coke.
If you're gonna poison yourself,
poison yourself with the good ****
If you want to see whats up with something,
be certain your sample size is representative.
That's just good Science.
No one likes a false statistic
except those in power
who wish to remain in power
so maintain thy power
to wield thy freedom of choice
armed with an arsenal of personal experiences
sailing with an armada of accurate information
upon the high seas of this uncertain but certainly beautiful Life,
but be prepared to accept the consequences.
That's just responsibility.
That alone oughtta put you well ahead of the curve."
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 3:30 PM UTC
Perception is something of wonder.
I see black and she sees pink.
She feels warm and I feel empty.
Not necessarily opposite.
Not necessarily similar.
An offset of brainwaves and past events.
Might as well be fire and skin.
Might as well be the start to my half way.
Because life is not different.
Because life is not close.
Perception is a thing of infinity.
And there is nothing to do about it.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 12:13 AM UTC