"normalized" poems
*The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will be live-*
The revelation will be streaming through your Windows
laptops and smartphones.
The revolution will be blogged
Tweeted, liked, shared, RE-blogged RE-tweeted
and Stumbled Upon in between
midnight ************ sessions
sandwiched between funny cat memes.
The resolution will be HD.
It's evolution will be high speed.
The whistles will be blown at with frequency.
The revolution will be commented on;
Scrutinized.
Vandalized.
Scandalized.
Stylized and advertized.
People will pay attention -
People will forget to mention
that some stand up, occupy, riot
and die.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution be streaming live
through the filter of your choice.
The facts will be democratized.
The democracy will be corporatized.
The corporations will personified.
People, objectified -
Spied on and villainized
The powers that be will will lie, deny, and try to justify.
The people will be disenfranchised.
Prisons will be privatized.
Death drones will be utilized.
No one will bat an eye.
Because revolution will be multiplied, over-simplified,
The violence, normalized.
Lives, sacrificed
to satiate the Golden Calf's appetite.
The revolution will not be televised
but Jerry Springer will...
Go figure.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC
I seethe within what echoes disdain for all things wanting, because I can't seem to keep what's there to begin with
The desire to purge prior prose and start from scratch beseeches my mind to scrawl what dire nuance calls my name, but I don't look it in the eyes
It's my demon; my voice that resonates deep within; the call of all things mired by fate-less whispers of what's more, or right
But I know, it can't be how I desire. What can be will only come when time sets right the means to seek it out; to reach for whatever may be reaching back at me
I can't move forward unless I know for certain what's there would not bring more desolation. I am a coward, but am I human? I ask myself that every waking moment
I crave nothing more than to be normalized and reverberate with twining string of fate that actually calls my name, not the sour tones of dissonance and disdain as before
I crave reality to be my own, rather than reality to own everything I can not
I seek, eternally.. I find nothing but light that touches the surface, but never does the sun actually rise.
Bring me to my own horizon, bring me fate, bring me peace..
I hope..
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 3:48 AM UTC
The hair is almost normalized,
The hands we hardly notice,
Real news is, with my ensemble,
A red tie splashes well.
I bear your false witness,
The hookers and the lies,
I'd get the heebie-jeebies,
If I ****** with the FBI.
But the skin, the skin,
What color's that,
That hides the blackness found within.
That wraps a frame that wracks the sane,
And covers a skull with dubious brains.
It conceals the bloated air,
From lungs to lips,
From bowels to his finger tips.
It doesn't matter how his fits,
It can't conceal he's full of ****
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC
News announced today "cop kills a man in his own home".
Mistakes his apartment for hers, mistakes him for a burglar or
an easy target!
My Granny says "I bet she is white and he was black"? She used was since Botham is dead. Granny says "cops killing black body has been normalized since forever".
Three days later the news releases her name and photo.
My Granny was right. She is a white woman with Klansman's robes for eyes looking to **** a black man.
Amber tell me did you sit in your car for 15 hours carving Botham's name on the bullet that killed him before going to his apartment?
Did you want his apartment to reflect the same color as
the red mat in front of his door?
Oh, you didn't notice that,
or did you just decide to take a shot in the dark,
while Botham was in his home resting effortlessly?
It was too dark for you to see that was not your apartment, but lit enough to see him to shoot him in his chest.
Amber, I bet your heart is cut from the same
cloth as your mother's "All Lives Matter" Tee Shirt.
Botham's Mother says his heart was made by angels.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 11:52 AM UTC
I can no longer disguise
Contempt in my eyes
The lows and the highs
It is you I despise
Heart no longer complies
While your heart denies
It’s me you chastise
Deceitful demise
There’s no compromise
I agonize
While you apologize
But my love I surmise
It’s fossilized
And I've normalized
What you’ve minimized
Gone are my cries
I’m numb from your lies
Like this I will die
Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 9:35 PM UTC
I cultivated the land
Make offerings of grass to god
No reward from above
My brother gives him a lamb
Receives holly reward
Abel come to field I have something for you
Violence is rampant
Media highlights deaths
Killers makes history
Fingers are pointed
Desensitized people
This is our culture of violence
Rise up against me
Talk out of place
I will destroy you, your family, your place
You are just 1 more impaled
I take pleasure from you pain
80000 dead Viad rules you
Violence is rampant
Media highlights deaths
Killers makes history
Fingers are pointed
Desensitized people
This is our culture of violence
Take them from their land
Whip them make them your own
I am your master sitting on a throne
Thousands will die to see the light
Mr. Lincoln slavery is our right
Your blood is needed time to fight
Violence is rampant
Media highlights deaths
Killers makes history
Fingers are pointed
Desensitized people
This is our culture of violence
Now go and shoot up the schools
**** innocent children
Lets look at the problem
Violence has been normalized
Indifference to death
Shots ring out, who cares, one more is dead
Violence is rampant
Media highlights deaths
Killers makes history
Fingers are pointed
Desensitized people
This is our culture of violence
Stop all the killings
This is our culture of violence
Stop all the killings
This is our culture of violence
Stop all the killings
This is our culture of violence
-------------------
Written By Victor Timmons
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 12:45 PM UTC
I write poetry and my hands shake a lot. I'm the product of a 15 year old drug addict and a 20 sum year old college drop out. I was born into a family who normalized **** Now I'm an 18 year old coming to terms with childhood abuse and abandonment fear. Recently diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, something I'm not sure I'll ever over come.
So this is me. A high school drop out, unemployed, battling all forms of addiction, at war with too many demons.
Craving an up.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
He paints his ashtray
alkaline blue,
a petty tip-of-the-hat to
harbingers of evil,
men between men and
women sitting aside,
head bobbed
in embarrassment.
What have we become which
normalized gestures do not
puncture?
His alkaline blue ashtray
trading dust for roach buds
and where is he off to,
brain sorting sentiment with
barred numbers, statistics,
inaccessible phenomena.
Pains to say most often he is
wandering in the wings
flapping for attention.
How humanity must suffer
in the name of
self-effacement.
He and his
alkaline blue ashtray
skitter across the landscape
(a da Vinci,
a Mona Lisa)
again in apathy to watch
petty tip-of-the-hat prisoners
wag thumbs and call
each other names.
In the end of things,
reason does not prevail.
The dust is all.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 2:19 AM UTC
Crème brulee, a careless mind,
singeing, burning albeit caramelized
like a politician never normalized,
crawfish should never be apologetic
there's an avaricious food chain
in there somewhere,
gun shot without hardly knowing
right from wrong
conceal that powder trail
dig down to Bayou.
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 12:34 PM UTC
The Artisan tongue and Linguistic,
Likes of the melted cheese upon the mouth,
And the gift of tamoto soup in winter tundra.
Those are the gift that I seek upon,
As an indentured servant looking upon the wonders of aurora boreal,
Or a spiritless soul seeking to quench the inner fiber meld with ether.
Dream seeker with nothing to stand,
A adventurer without a quest,
Or the rebel without a cause.
Those days are but a distant past,
Forgotten murmur of mythic dreams,
As radiance dawn from each breath.
Come upon the golden kingdom,
And seek prize upon the window of glory,
While never stand in comfort of being normalized.
The suburban curse of procrastination,
The comfort of daydream,
The arrogant silence of enact.
The desire to seek greatness entwined with destiny,
Perpetual confidence grasp the very breath of existence,
And one would crawl out from nothing.
I breathe to be something,
And seek everything,
To avoid being nothing.
For seekers desire,
And desire seek every essence of breath another day to be all things.
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC
the woven intercept
*the crescendo soft ascending,
commandeers our riveting,
we do not surrender, taken, nonetheless,
our deference to an elegant wand wave,
combo hopeful and all encompassing, the helplessness
both well understood
the progression higher, steady on,
a rapture going to a defined ending,
concluding voyage occluded, for now,
but the setting sun rays us a plan, a path,
teasingly, soto voce lips moving, “this way”
follow on the unsteady water
restraining resistance failing, flailing weakly,
it is both early morning and late afternoon,
the light warms, but each, a timbre different,
the pitch and intensity tho one and the same,
yet, order confused, still, we are given-in
giving in unwillingly
absolution unrequested, but awarded anyway,
shelter from the storm of safe and warm,
children begin first school day, but adults
know better, beginnings full of risks unforeseen,
the season changes, normalized, but would be refused
if we could
the waiver offered, the woven intercept read,
emotional intelligence so fragile, on and on,
sidekicks, lovers, connected by a dotted line highway,
the space between permitting anything we want,
but contradictories say, wanting everything, impossible
but the viable solution singular
how do we leave it then? we leave it thus, clarified,
separation is a kind of attachment, voidable, when,
kissing comes calling, from all around the world,
the crescendo ends, we each have read the intercept,
it concusses, interpretations differing, yet we don’t care
lying through embracing lips*
our tune is a mismatched matching,
a vision ending and yet anew hatching,
this is love, understanding, undefinable, undefeated,
a changeling definition, paths possessing multi-endings,
loving is the unceasingly, desirable imperfect struggling
unique, singular just like everyone else’s
9/4/19 9:07am
nml
(she'll know)
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 2:14 PM UTC
Way out in its own oasis
Its very own brand of homeostasis
Passed the jarred ideas and whacked out mazes
Is a spot
Full of unknown faces
Hailing from unknown places
Look at it, fall out with out protracted traces
Vacant lot
Then let's settle the score
What is your original face before your mom and dad were born?
Why not start over with a clean slate, as the smell of new dawns pervade
I forgot to eat
Maybe if you gave the derelict half a chance
And looked at things from the ambivert's stance
People wouldn't notice your ego's protuberance
Upstaged by an under study
Pull the button, turn the lever, push the switch and flip the ****
Predicate the incendiary infraction
Reductio ad absurdum
Lip service provides scrutiny
We've been normalized, what the recipe for ice?
We're full of emptiness, nothing exists
No-thing, not a thing does not exist
Life is deathless
I'm looking for multifaceted individuals
To fix something that's irreparable
An eerie parable, something terrible
My future's told by flash cards
I put my head between my knees
Just wipe my memory
Leave me at the bottom of the sea
Leave my dignity to discard
When two separate divisions are over lapping
What's the sound of one hand clapping?
Comparing then and now every now and then
Again, never will I say"never again"
-Tommy Johnson
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 3:20 AM UTC
One time the inside of me was dead
only way to stop the jitters in my head
jitters forcing my heart to rip into shreds
Charging my pulse, forcing me to feel red
One time the quite made me feel calm
Bruises slowly disappearing from my palm
The first time my breathing played like a song
Discovering the difference between what's right and what's wrong
One time they said that I was too nice
they don't know my heart was once cold as ice
Experience comes with it's own special price
Your childhood would have been my paradise
One time I felt everyone else's pain
I saw how it moves through us like a chain
Fueling it's power through the dead right brain
Making ignorance a comfortable ball and chain
One time I screamed angry at the universe
Seems like being humane is a blessing and curse
Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse
we have normalized a society that should make you averse
One time I realized it's all worth the fight
It's not so bad to be someone else's light
Despite all the hatred I'll stay polite
because losing your character means losing the fight
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 3:37 PM UTC
A girl who is lonesome on a regular basis, isn't based upon their own choice... But by their own desire to hold an identity bear without regulating (properly) the reasons as to why or how too essentially fix them?? Someone would say they aren't both comfortable and doesn't want to live this type of life... Except, they do, and they are very good at it. Do you not seriously think they aren't truly comfortable with it...?! Because by how I've gotten to know them, they seem entirely thrilled by this very aspect upon the features that drown them in sorrowful lust or delusional ecstasy for the illusional better!
Don't make me laugh.... You seriously think she "would" be comfortable with ANY of this...? WELLL.... DO YOU???!!! NO...! She simply... DOESN'T! And I wouldn't, either. Because I know what it's like to live in something that has tormented me right down to my very component cells. (Not truly knowing how to regulate the emotions that run those very component cells...DRY!) Something that ricochets the exposure over an entire even playing field that's become too GREATLY ODD! For something that doesn't make sense, doesn't also have too be the permanent source of lifestyle one has become standard upon (the now very normalized lifecycle of this very way of life itself).
So, what happens when someone who is lonesome and who's seemingly lost...while also supposedly meant too be good at it, simultaneously...? Well...isn't it obvious by now...?
"A lonesome girl who's good at being alone".....
Sep 24, 2020
Sep 24, 2020 at 9:56 PM UTC
Cold stairs inside of bricks
Breathing fire outside of sticks
You don’t like it when I look like this?
Different? Logical?
My face
Warm with blood
Filled with your majesty
Patient like a flood
Never the same
Bored by the ******
You orchestrated
My body maimed
Slamming at justice
Cherishing the gaveled
My life opened in envelopes
Sealing the unraveled
I address you correctly
In a bench of lies
You sit embarrassed
Everyone watching your eyes
A signed order
Sealed with my truth
Wrongly justified
Like a deafening light
Whispering from the fright
Crushing the gavel
Normalized contempt
Justice is now exempt.
Feb 10, 2010
Feb 10, 2010 at 5:59 PM UTC
I had been desperately flailing around in the water .
I forgot that if I stopped panicking I could stay afloat.
Drowning my sorrows in distractions .
I forgot what a sober life felt like .
Depression became my default.
I forgot that joy was also an option .
Suffering was normalized.
And peace was just a distant dream .
I was too busy surviving the days .
I had forgotten to just live in the moment..
Jun 23, 2023
Jun 23, 2023 at 4:12 PM UTC
We live in a world that's normalized bottling feelings up.
But use the word ***** to describe the few that open up.
Why does our world have to be this way
Feels like talking is dead these days
You've got anxiety in depression at every single corner
Trying to talk about your feelings makes you the foreigner
Let me be here for you
Tell me all your problems I'll share mine too
Show me all the scars I'll kiss those too
Share with me all your dreams and I'll make them come true.
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 1:23 AM UTC
I want to be unapologetic
Yet, I continue to apologize
For every difference that they see
Increases the need to compromise
From what I wear to how I sleep
Or what is deemed a healthy size
From then on, I understood
That I lived only to be described
I apologize again for my differences
Next time, I will improve my disguise
For the sake of your own comfort
I will keep putting aside mine
I look up to their condescending stares
They will never be satisfied
I escape into my solitude
I am not something for you to define
I am tired of advocating for myself
Without the support of family ties
Finding more hate in my own growth
As though I live to be ostracized
My attempts to calm my abnormalities
In order to sooth those who penalize
To make room for all of their expectations
To create another profitable merchandise
They have taught me to pursue
A personality so idealized
While they heavily persuade me
To carve a body to sexualize
Only to be rewarded with a life
Where I am only patronized
Filled with the inequalities
That are completely normalized
I retreat into my inner world
The place where I fanaticize
Of a space where I can breathe
With the encouragement to try
I am not broken, just discouraged
Of those who antagonize
Minorities and their differences
Who then live demoralized
I don't want to be given a role
With a life script to memorize
Or submit myself to a narrative
That can easily be summarized
Do not confide me to a label
Just so you can stigmatized
Those labels are not my name
I deserved to be recognized
I do not wish to be put on a pedestal
As another icon to be advertised
I only wish for your understanding
Just enough to be humanized
Apr 7, 2020
Apr 7, 2020 at 11:40 PM UTC
fall out boy is always
in season
rain or shine
sweat or tears
i honestly get
tired of having
problems but
doesn't everyone?
i'm escaping
stumbling into some
false reality on the other
side of my mind's eye
sometimes i get to thinking
about alcohol and
cigarettes and i get scared
for who i'll turn into someday
and sometimes
when i can't sleep i play
what a catch donnie
on repeat until i cry
"said i'll be fine
til the hospital or
american embassy"
gets me every time
leaves an actual pain
in my stomach
the ache of something
i want more than anything
to die
or leave
to no longer be
choked
convulsing on the
scratched wooden floor
legs twitching and
forehead sweating
i can't breathe
and it's not just
the humidity
it's the thoughts
it's the scars that are
too new to talk about
and the ones
too old to care about
eyelashes are
scraping irises
hands are
always sticky
how pain
is normalized
and anxiety
just happens.
the song is over
play it again
shuffle and repeat
until sleep
i should have stayed home
i always should stay home
but i don't like
home anymore
i never did like home
and it's mostly because of
who i find there
when i'm all alone.
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 10:09 PM UTC
Feel like I’ve become desensitized,
Blood on my hands,
But got sand in the eyes.
Don’t need a cancel culture,
Because my moral conscience,
Won’t let me hide.
And the trauma got me making excuses,
But how else does one overcome genocide?
And I can’t lie,
I feel empty inside,
Thinking of over 1000 ways to die.
Imprisoned within my mind.
It’s like I’m zombie-fied.
With everyday being a melancholy overdrive.
And my capacity is on low power mode,
In order to just survive.
But although I’m surviving,
I’m not truly living.
So, desensitized,
And Running out of feelings.
Have no moments to rest,
Because I can’t stop overthinking.
With persistent thoughts to numb it all,
By taking drugs, gambling, and drinking.
Really every addiction at this point looks appealing,
Yet I know what I got to do to start healing,
But its hard to explain,
Because I feel like a card dealer but I ain’t dealing.
With these issues because I’d rather start running,
Thinking I can out-run all these problems,
That keep on piling.
And when people say how awesome I am,
It’s unnerving,
Because complements,
Are something to, which I am undeserving.
At least that’s what I tell myself every morning.
Before I take my happy pill,
To give off the effect that everything in my life,
Is so ******* charming.
Even though in reality I am drowning.
I’ve become desensitized,
With everything around me distorting.
Desensitized to the violence,
Just another dead brother and sister,
Yet everyone’s ******* silent,
Doesn’t matter whether your defiant or compliant,
Not sure what’s worse the assailant?
Or the sirens?
When both be killing us!
If only people could take this **** serious!
Instead of calling us delirious.
Guess I’m not the only one that desensitized!
If you don’t believe racism exists,
That just means that you’re climatized!
Unable to recognize, that you’re indoctrinized.
Where hate, becomes normalized.
How can we expect change?
When we’re desensitized!
Jul 4, 2022
Jul 4, 2022 at 7:51 PM UTC
Your greatest fear is of someone yelling
Fire! in a crowded theater, of the cries of children,
the way popcorn would be dropped, scattered.
Perhaps—if there were a fire, that is—
your body would lock into place,
like ceramic, like a doll,
and you would be able to do nothing except sit there,
heart pounding, blood flowing; perhaps you would press two
fingers to your veins, let the sound of your
adrenaline overpower the way smoke that
doesn’t exist floats through the air, into your lungs,
suffocating you.
Maybe if you try hard enough,
there will be a Fire! in a crowded theater. Maybe, sickeningly,
you want to watch the way mothers would
throw their children over their shoulders, race to an exit.
Maybe you’d rush to an exit, too. However, there’s a chance that
you’ve just normalized death, that you’re afraid of
fear itself, the crackling of flames,
the smell of burning plastic, the color
red,
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 10:51 PM UTC
Held in place by an insatiable jolt, he heeds.
A feminine landscape, gracious in its bearing
and fiducial in character and grace,
commands the screen by way of a privileged audience.
Words of a genuine spirit are uttered,
producing a flavor of static serenity
potent enough to lead the meek away from sorrow
and into her pacifying warmth.
Majestic, both in name and persona,
normalized greys are cast aside
in favor of Kore’s illuminating, celestial sky.
Wrath disintegrates at her muted embrace and euphony.
William himself would reanimate
had life given him the gift of time
in servitude of the Priestess and her
tender and captivating adjudication:
“Et’rnity beest damn’d f’r having did produce an embodiment of majestic grace.”
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 6:16 PM UTC
You are not as helpless to love as you think.
You watch him so closely, the alcohol on his breath can be smelled through his 2am text messages. You admire him anyways.
You are not as helpless to love as you feel.
You left me after weeks of not even trying. You made me feel disgusting. I get over it reminding myself that the *** was awful. You told me you failed me, and I believe you.
You are not as helpless to love as you want to be.
You will lose everyone if you keep choosing to be stapled to someone who feels no remorse over telling others to **** themselves. Stop acting like history is a precedent for dragging that sack of **** around. A lot of girls cut themselves, you just met one who deserves to.
You are not as helpless to love as it seems.
I can't believe my parents got along for long enough to have two kids. My father started texting her to say happy birthday, happy holidays, etc. "He must be lonely", I tell her, knowing fully well he's pushed everyone out of his life. He's insufferable to even his insufferable friends [which he now lacks].
I aspire that those who love me may recognize their lust and admiration, but leave me in a heartbeat for my shortcomings. I would pray that nobody lets me hurt them if they have the chance. I fear myself for them. It's only a little ****** up.
When you leave and you don't appear again? I've normalized the behavior. I imagine that death's ferry travels through this room and takes the lust from you. You leave with nothing but the mediocrity of reality. At least you leave.
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 8:13 PM UTC
I couldn't care less about your political party,
I care that you don't see another human as human,
I care you stand with someone who believes love can be directed by electric shocks to the head
I care that you support someone who openly took the KKKs support,
And the supporters burned down a POCs church.
I don't care what party you stand for,
But it worries me that you could possibly talk good of someone that
Is being tried for sexually assaulting women and children.
How could you want these actions to represent you?
Why do you want this to be more normalized in our society?
Why do you want religion to be restricted to just what you believe?
This is blind support built with a foundation of love for hate.
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 5:55 AM UTC