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"neutralise" poems
**Society, the embodiment of human securities Is in reality the stark confirmation   Of a conglomerate of screaming insecurities Begging….its leaders….fervent introspection ** *Bending logic is an art perfected by all Regardless of creed class or stature No wonder the walk is seemingly a hard laboured crawl Culminating into deep exposed…psychological sutures* **Beings are bedevilled by a roving myopia Craving a farfetched grandiose utopia That’s why a bespectacled cynicism Is ironically of essence…to neutralise a deep rooted parochialism**
0
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 7:28 AM UTC
Bespectacled cynicism.
anything that involves him seems to be wholly acidic; why did I think I could be an alkaline strong enough for this?
0
Feb 8, 2022
Feb 8, 2022 at 10:26 PM UTC
neutralise
i hope you're happy, wherever you are, with what you are doing. you do not know that i am not, and i both cannot change it and would not even if i could - this is who we are now. we have drifted apart and while you have found an island and invited all our friends, nobody speaks to me and the saltwater burns my skin. i am sorry for what i said, but not for what happened - i just wish it had happened differently. i am sorry for telling you how i felt when i had never done so before - it was new to you. you must understand that while i hate how things are now, i cannot regret much - i do not mean to sound callous, but rather i want to, just once, tell the truth - while am lonely, i am free. you may not realise the toxicity of your words as they caress your tongue but they burned my skin with their acidic touch and dissolved my soul into something i neither recognised nor liked. i wish you all the best, and you'll remain a part of me, but now i cannot bear to see your face because i have seen what it looks like under the mask of lipstick smiles and sharp eyeliner and the truth of who you were to me, and made me be, is terrifying. still, while you made me something i cannot be while keeping myself, you made me smile and feel something akin to ... happiness, i suppose; so i watch you take away what i have left without resentment - i know you feel you need revenge, and i will not be the one to keep your closure from you when i am finding mine. this is the last present i can still give to you now that i'm gone. i hope the spring air washes the poison off your tongue, and that you can be happy with the people who loved me once; i hope you can find enough happiness to neutralise the acidic hate that made me leave a person i loved so immensely behind. i have never been the one who left, but i cannot go on.
0
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 4:34 PM UTC
to the girl i called my friend
i hope you're happy, wherever you are, with what you are doing. you do not know that i am not, and i both cannot change it and would not even if i could - this is who we are now. we have drifted apart and while you have found an island and invited all our friends, nobody speaks to me and the saltwater burns my skin. i am sorry for what i said, but not for what happened - i just wish it had happened differently. i am sorry for telling you how i felt when i had never done so before - it was new to you. you must understand that while i hate how things are now, i cannot regret much - i do not mean to sound callous, but rather i want to, just once, tell the truth - while am lonely, i am free. you may not realise the toxicity of your words as they caress your tongue but they burned my skin with their acidic touch and dissolved my soul into something i neither recognised nor liked. i wish you all the best, and you'll remain a part of me, but now i cannot bear to see your face because i have seen what it looks like under the mask of lipstick smiles and sharp eyeliner and the truth of who you were to me, and made me be, is terrifying. still, while you made me something i cannot be while keeping myself, you made me smile and feel something akin to ... happiness, i suppose; so i watch you take away what i have left without resentment - i know you feel you need revenge, and i will not be the one to keep your closure from you when i am finding mine. this is the last present i can still give to you now that i'm gone. i hope the spring air washes the poison off your tongue, and that you can be happy with the people who loved me once; i hope you can find enough happiness to neutralise the acidic hate that made me leave a person i loved so immensely behind. i have never been the one who left, but i cannot go on.
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29
In my fairy garden the bubbles fly so high they blow into the atmosphere and neutralise the sky My fairy bubbles help my skin they soften and they glow they transmutate the sea-life till extinction bids them "Go" My lovely fairy bubbles take my washday blues away they saunter down my plughole and drift into the bay They poison and they modify with each outgoing tide They brighten up the logos in the land of paranoid Well my whites are so much whiter since I bought my fairy friend I give no **** for politics I flush it round the bend My clothes must be the cleanest like the ones on my T.V. A speck of dust a fleck of mud is social leprosy So lets all use our faries and wash our blues away let's forget about the ocean and the price that we must pay As the sea-life gets much rarer from the toxic fairy sludge ask yourself some questions give your conscience a little nudge This is the land of plenty for all and not just one Your cleaning and your preening are blotting out the sun "......for hands that do dishes may one day grab your throat.... ....buy Mind-Need-Fancy-Snake-Piss....."
0
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 7:51 AM UTC
FAIRY BUBBLES
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2447235/ill-get-your-name-tattooed-on-my-body/ so who're teasing the hedgehog into a pinhead curl? can we neutralise the anomisity? to spare the rotten hangman of the crusade taken? how about, instead of... the suggested lack of body space for each authentic name, you, Kelsey, get a tattoo, that reads one authentic name: ⠼⠚⠝⠕⠝⠽⠍⠕⠥⠎(number indicator, 0, i.e. not 1, not 2... leaving the rest as -nonymous, without the A, for Adam, et al...) - i heard some cultures have mastered tattoo to encompass braille proto-culture, some minor cannibalism rememberance-sunday try-out... i'm getting an itch sensing you're teasing the grim reaper and a number for a car in need of being taxed for using a road... also... dont you think it's a bit ignoble to celebrate having survived suicide, when the purpose of suicide is to die with one's honour, i.e. to have completed the attempt akin to the samurai donctrine of being stabbed: with the missing adrenaline punch of surprise of self-disemblowelment? adrenaline is an aesthetic in this instance... hell, i digress... off i go as a person with a surgical mark for a tattoo... imagine! the compliment of your gratitude, having a similarity being paid due for both the ambition, and the "luck" of being bitten by a shark, or rather, seeking suicide, without a determined self, a shark, an clown parachute... you know: the spice that is life that is SHOCK and adrenaline... god, suicide is the horrid death worse than ****** since it has no surprise... and a death worse than old age, since it has no ambiguity of god... the hell has a tattoo to do with such taj mahals of debate?
0
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 11:15 PM UTC
poem comment section: it used to be such a nice, platform, before teens stormed the place
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2447235/ill-get-your-name-tattooed-on-my-body/ so who're teasing the hedgehog into a pinhead curl? can we neutralise the anomisity? to spare the rotten hangman of the crusade taken? how about, instead of... the suggested lack of body space for each authentic name, you, Kelsey, get a tattoo, that reads one authentic name: ⠼⠚⠝⠕⠝⠽⠍⠕⠥⠎(number indicator, 0, i.e. not 1, not 2... leaving the rest as -nonymous, without the A, for Adam, et al...) - i heard some cultures have mastered tattoo to encompass braille proto-culture, some minor cannibalism rememberance-sunday try-out... i'm getting an itch sensing you're teasing the grim reaper and a number for a car in need of being taxed for using a road... also... dont you think it's a bit ignoble to celebrate having survived suicide, when the purpose of suicide is to die with one's honour, i.e. to have completed the attempt akin to the samurai donctrine of being stabbed: with the missing adrenaline punch of surprise of self-disemblowelment? adrenaline is an aesthetic in this instance... hell, i digress... off i go as a person with a surgical mark for a tattoo... imagine! the compliment of your gratitude, having a similarity being paid due for both the ambition, and the "luck" of being bitten by a shark, or rather, seeking suicide, without a determined self, a shark, an clown parachute... you know: the spice that is life that is SHOCK and adrenaline... god, suicide is the horrid death worse than ****** since it has no surprise... and a death worse than old age, since it has no ambiguity of god... the hell has a tattoo to do with such taj mahals of debate?
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