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"optimistically" poems
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.   As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .   The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms . Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus . Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation.  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor.   In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
0
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 5:15 PM UTC
toreinss-pinwinkel-iii
Glyph
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.   As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .   The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms . Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus . Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation.  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor.   In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
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6
There's a difference between looking and seeing. You can look at me, but I wonder more what you see. Brown eyes, brown hair, barely more than five feet tall; my feet are small, as are my hands; my teeth are straight, thanks to braces; shoulders been broad since I swam, but my figure is much less athletic than it used to be. I could look at myself and point out a million flaws. My forehead is much too big for my liking, my cheeks are too red, my top lip is so skinny it barely exists, and, if you ask me, my waist line could afford to look a little more like my upper lip. My looks are far from perfect. Not saying I'm hideous, but I don't look in the mirror to find America's Next Top Model, or anything close, at least not until my face is perfectly painted, flaws concealed under a combination of moderately priced makeup and a rather crafty hand. When I look, physical imperfections and inadequacies stare back at me. My overly expressive light brown eyes give me an omnipotent glance, and they beg me to turn away, to close them, to put them to sleep so that I can see. When I see, it's like a whole new me. I'm a human being whose physical flaws are diminished by an overly giving, compassionate heart, a brain filled of logic & curiosity, a chest swollen full of endless giggles, a throat storing sarcastic words mixed in with empathetic phrases; down within me I see the woman who still at times looks and feels more like the girl whose heart has been broken too many times to count but still, despite her womanly pessimism, yearns optimistically to love again. Within me I see a woman with confidence and also insecurity, ambition and fear, tranquility and rage, hope and despair; I see dreams, wishes, prayers, meditation; I see a beautifully complex soul trapped in a world that begs it for simplicity and conformity. I guess when I look I only get a glimpse of the body that feels the need to be perfect, to work out a little more, to weigh a little less, to fix her hair the right way, and to dress in the right clothes. The self-conscious me who still fears being weird, who cares what others think, who worries if my parents are proud. But when I see, out comes the woman who says **** the status quo, I can't be put in a box, I'm beautiful the way I am, and nothing stands between me and achieving my dreams.* When I look, I don't see, but when I see, I see me. I feel the brim of my glasses graze my nose, and I know, even once I take 'em off, my vision is better than ever.
0
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
megb42290
20/20 Vision
There's a difference between looking and seeing. You can look at me, but I wonder more what you see. Brown eyes, brown hair, barely more than five feet tall; my feet are small, as are my hands; my teeth are straight, thanks to braces; shoulders been broad since I swam, but my figure is much less athletic than it used to be. I could look at myself and point out a million flaws. My forehead is much too big for my liking, my cheeks are too red, my top lip is so skinny it barely exists, and, if you ask me, my waist line could afford to look a little more like my upper lip. My looks are far from perfect. Not saying I'm hideous, but I don't look in the mirror to find America's Next Top Model, or anything close, at least not until my face is perfectly painted, flaws concealed under a combination of moderately priced makeup and a rather crafty hand. When I look, physical imperfections and inadequacies stare back at me. My overly expressive light brown eyes give me an omnipotent glance, and they beg me to turn away, to close them, to put them to sleep so that I can see. When I see, it's like a whole new me. I'm a human being whose physical flaws are diminished by an overly giving, compassionate heart, a brain filled of logic & curiosity, a chest swollen full of endless giggles, a throat storing sarcastic words mixed in with empathetic phrases; down within me I see the woman who still at times looks and feels more like the girl whose heart has been broken too many times to count but still, despite her womanly pessimism, yearns optimistically to love again. Within me I see a woman with confidence and also insecurity, ambition and fear, tranquility and rage, hope and despair; I see dreams, wishes, prayers, meditation; I see a beautifully complex soul trapped in a world that begs it for simplicity and conformity. I guess when I look I only get a glimpse of the body that feels the need to be perfect, to work out a little more, to weigh a little less, to fix her hair the right way, and to dress in the right clothes. The self-conscious me who still fears being weird, who cares what others think, who worries if my parents are proud. But when I see, out comes the woman who says **** the status quo, I can't be put in a box, I'm beautiful the way I am, and nothing stands between me and achieving my dreams.* When I look, I don't see, but when I see, I see me. I feel the brim of my glasses graze my nose, and I know, even once I take 'em off, my vision is better than ever.
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138
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience . As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .   The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms . Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus . Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation .  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor .   In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
0
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
toreinss-pinwinkel-iii
Glyph
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience . As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .   The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms . Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus . Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation .  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor .   In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
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6
I asked again but my hope refused to extinguish, It smiled and told I had always been distinguished. So, I kept checking my mail box even if it seemed lame, I kept waiting and waiting but that Hogwarts letter never came. Eleven progressed to twelve, twelve to thirteen, Mistaken- I thought-they must have been, Meanwhile I did my own reading and learnt all the curses, And with the wand I never had I practiced all the verses. First of September arrived again, and again, and again. And with the years that passed, so increased the pain, “So the age limit isn’t actually eleven!” then I optimistically thought, “Oh! What a brutal test of patience they cleverly plot!” Pictures in newspaper don’t move, brooms yet don’t fly, And yes there are times that these thoughts make me cry, “Hogwarts doesn’t exist”- Oh! These oblivious muggles continue to tell, Deep down they are just jealous that they just can’t cast a spell, “Well, can you?” they ask laughing and teasing, Their voice brimming up with sarcastic appeasing… “Not yet” I silently speak, “Just wait for days some... My pretty little Hogwarts letter is just about to come.”
0
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
saloni
HOGWARTS LETTER.
I asked again but my hope refused to extinguish, It smiled and told I had always been distinguished. So, I kept checking my mail box even if it seemed lame, I kept waiting and waiting but that Hogwarts letter never came. Eleven progressed to twelve, twelve to thirteen, Mistaken- I thought-they must have been, Meanwhile I did my own reading and learnt all the curses, And with the wand I never had I practiced all the verses. First of September arrived again, and again, and again. And with the years that passed, so increased the pain, “So the age limit isn’t actually eleven!” then I optimistically thought, “Oh! What a brutal test of patience they cleverly plot!” Pictures in newspaper don’t move, brooms yet don’t fly, And yes there are times that these thoughts make me cry, “Hogwarts doesn’t exist”- Oh! These oblivious muggles continue to tell, Deep down they are just jealous that they just can’t cast a spell, “Well, can you?” they ask laughing and teasing, Their voice brimming up with sarcastic appeasing… “Not yet” I silently speak, “Just wait for days some... My pretty little Hogwarts letter is just about to come.”
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20
I abuse words verbally like my voice is Bobby and the dictionary Whitney/ Like a literary hyperbole properly arranged to explain this deranged brutality perfectly/ Force the English language to work for me like a particularly dark time in history/ Optimistically take the tongue twister trickery and aggressively attack a vocabulary vocally and personally/ Not physically but a barrage on your psyche, almost psychedelically/ Use words medically, like a surgeon I expertly plant thoughts whispered softly but assertively/ Moving letters like chess pawns to express thoughts masterfully and creatively/ Gruesomely grotesque but gorgeous thoughts written down beautifully/ You can't help but hear the perplexity of mythoticly placed words with comradery/ An oddity with the audacity to raise the bar and up the capacity/ Because what comes out of me has to be exactly what you see because it is me/                 Not just a part of me but all of me/ I'm not a fallen tree sitting in the forest silently, quietly all by my lonely/ It's just the opposite actually and factually/ I will attack with a dialect so violent you violently retract causing you to react cowardly automatically/ I don't even have to lift a pinky, leave it stinky/ Let my words linger there in the air like **** smoke, thick and sticky/   Periodically come back to peek and see if you've figured out the mystery and found the key/ One that'll decipher decisively what it is that I've let out of me and spread to all humanity/ I could never have planned it, see, it had to happen naturally, organically if you will/ And not to build it up falsely but I honestly, back then, didn't have the ***** to let it out of me and it cost me considerably/ So now this mastery I hold of word delivery bestowed to me gets jotted down feverishly/ With an intensity equal to none inside of this ******* century, can't censor me/ Got a consistency that forces me to constantly cross the border of insanity repeatedly/ Time only to watch my talents as they literally wither away for all of eternity/ Such a tragedy to see such agony but please, no apology brought on by sympathy/ Just let me be as I drift farther out to sea to a place you'll never see/ To let these words mold me into someone you could never be/ ©2018
0
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 4:00 AM UTC
bettsjc187
~•§•~ Verbal Abuse ~•§•~
I abuse words verbally like my voice is Bobby and the dictionary Whitney/ Like a literary hyperbole properly arranged to explain this deranged brutality perfectly/ Force the English language to work for me like a particularly dark time in history/ Optimistically take the tongue twister trickery and aggressively attack a vocabulary vocally and personally/ Not physically but a barrage on your psyche, almost psychedelically/ Use words medically, like a surgeon I expertly plant thoughts whispered softly but assertively/ Moving letters like chess pawns to express thoughts masterfully and creatively/ Gruesomely grotesque but gorgeous thoughts written down beautifully/ You can't help but hear the perplexity of mythoticly placed words with comradery/ An oddity with the audacity to raise the bar and up the capacity/ Because what comes out of me has to be exactly what you see because it is me/                 Not just a part of me but all of me/ I'm not a fallen tree sitting in the forest silently, quietly all by my lonely/ It's just the opposite actually and factually/ I will attack with a dialect so violent you violently retract causing you to react cowardly automatically/ I don't even have to lift a pinky, leave it stinky/ Let my words linger there in the air like **** smoke, thick and sticky/   Periodically come back to peek and see if you've figured out the mystery and found the key/ One that'll decipher decisively what it is that I've let out of me and spread to all humanity/ I could never have planned it, see, it had to happen naturally, organically if you will/ And not to build it up falsely but I honestly, back then, didn't have the ***** to let it out of me and it cost me considerably/ So now this mastery I hold of word delivery bestowed to me gets jotted down feverishly/ With an intensity equal to none inside of this ******* century, can't censor me/ Got a consistency that forces me to constantly cross the border of insanity repeatedly/ Time only to watch my talents as they literally wither away for all of eternity/ Such a tragedy to see such agony but please, no apology brought on by sympathy/ Just let me be as I drift farther out to sea to a place you'll never see/ To let these words mold me into someone you could never be/ ©2018
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29
Looking forward at what my life could be there is something so poignant about this quote. There is a recurring sensation I experience in life, that we are all forever lying in some way. A white lie. A huge suppression of the truth so that the lie that is told, is told so habitually, that it is the truth. Lies that mean nothing to those you tell them to, serves to anger ourselves . Twisting the truth, torturing what is true until it squeals out a lie. Though I am an honest person I lie constantly. About what dreams mean, about my future, about my fears. I analyse my dreams generously, I talk about my future optimistically and stifle my fears quickly. I am predisposed to hide to be human, but what I have found is that hiding the truth in the convenience of a lie is not a full life. When life delivers to you a fragment of time where you are in a blissful ecstasy, you see the stupidity of protecting yourself in an armour of lies. Having stripped down to your natural form you can feel your skin breathe. Film is more than an art-form to me, it lies about details, places and names, but if it finds truth in these lies I am naked again.
0
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 7:52 PM UTC
joseph-simmons
“Film is 24 lies per second at the service of truth, or at the service of the attempt to find the truth.” – Michael Haneke
Looking forward at what my life could be there is something so poignant about this quote. There is a recurring sensation I experience in life, that we are all forever lying in some way. A white lie. A huge suppression of the truth so that the lie that is told, is told so habitually, that it is the truth. Lies that mean nothing to those you tell them to, serves to anger ourselves . Twisting the truth, torturing what is true until it squeals out a lie. Though I am an honest person I lie constantly. About what dreams mean, about my future, about my fears. I analyse my dreams generously, I talk about my future optimistically and stifle my fears quickly. I am predisposed to hide to be human, but what I have found is that hiding the truth in the convenience of a lie is not a full life. When life delivers to you a fragment of time where you are in a blissful ecstasy, you see the stupidity of protecting yourself in an armour of lies. Having stripped down to your natural form you can feel your skin breathe. Film is more than an art-form to me, it lies about details, places and names, but if it finds truth in these lies I am naked again.
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1
the morning rolls in on women’s voices and bright empty landscapes they sing optimistically, don’t worry something new will grow here again yet I still can’t get out of bed or smile
0
Feb 1, 2023
Feb 1, 2023 at 7:45 AM UTC
SandraDee
jarring contrast
the morning rolls in on women’s voices and bright empty landscapes they sing optimistically, don’t worry something new will grow here again yet I still can’t get out of bed or smile
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6
Her hopes were like bubbles Prancing around Right before her eyes Optimistically floating Into her hands. But just as she tried to grab onto them pop They burst into the reality she lived in And was left alone With nothing But the residue Of the hope she once had
0
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 3:49 AM UTC
petrichor11
Hope
Her hopes were like bubbles Prancing around Right before her eyes Optimistically floating Into her hands. But just as she tried to grab onto them pop They burst into the reality she lived in And was left alone With nothing But the residue Of the hope she once had
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12
I am thoughtful, I dont speak unless I feel the need. And with most people I dont. Im observant, to the point of being creepy. :P I watch people, not in a perverted or wrong way I watch them to see how they act, and what their doing. I am socially illiterate, Im extremely awkward with people So I watch others to try to figure out what to do. Im realistic, both optimistically and pessimistically depending on the circumstance I think in logical cycles "If not this then that." "If not that, then this." and so on. Despite all the logic and awkward social standing, I do have a sense of humor It is sometimes crude, or overly complex but it is there. And my friends tend to enjoy it as well. I love to learn, anything everything anytime all the time. Which is one of the reasons Im observant. I learn primarily through watching. Though reading is just as easy for me. Listening is not however. I still want so much more knowledge though, and life is so short. "He's a genius" is all I've heard since I was in 3rd grade. I hate it. I am not a genius, I learn easy and have good recall and intuition. A genius is someone who can solve a problem in a hundred different ways Im smart, but Im not a genius. Im an artist in every sense. As this not-really-poem shows. Its why I joined this site. I love poetry. I love reading and writing, and I'm good at both. I love painting and any kind of visual art. I like shuffle dancing, its constant motion which plays into my hyper moods. - I consider dancing art (Im not sure if it actually is though) And finally. Music. Music is everything to me, Its what I do when I have emotions I need to deal with I literally talk to my instruments when I play them - Yes I know that is weird. :d I can play most instruments, not all. But most. My favorite is the guitar, then piano, then any other stringed instrument. Then any woodwind instrument - which is something Ive always wanted to learn to play.
0
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 6:03 PM UTC
sw
I (Am) - 1
I am thoughtful, I dont speak unless I feel the need. And with most people I dont. Im observant, to the point of being creepy. :P I watch people, not in a perverted or wrong way I watch them to see how they act, and what their doing. I am socially illiterate, Im extremely awkward with people So I watch others to try to figure out what to do. Im realistic, both optimistically and pessimistically depending on the circumstance I think in logical cycles "If not this then that." "If not that, then this." and so on. Despite all the logic and awkward social standing, I do have a sense of humor It is sometimes crude, or overly complex but it is there. And my friends tend to enjoy it as well. I love to learn, anything everything anytime all the time. Which is one of the reasons Im observant. I learn primarily through watching. Though reading is just as easy for me. Listening is not however. I still want so much more knowledge though, and life is so short. "He's a genius" is all I've heard since I was in 3rd grade. I hate it. I am not a genius, I learn easy and have good recall and intuition. A genius is someone who can solve a problem in a hundred different ways Im smart, but Im not a genius. Im an artist in every sense. As this not-really-poem shows. Its why I joined this site. I love poetry. I love reading and writing, and I'm good at both. I love painting and any kind of visual art. I like shuffle dancing, its constant motion which plays into my hyper moods. - I consider dancing art (Im not sure if it actually is though) And finally. Music. Music is everything to me, Its what I do when I have emotions I need to deal with I literally talk to my instruments when I play them - Yes I know that is weird. :d I can play most instruments, not all. But most. My favorite is the guitar, then piano, then any other stringed instrument. Then any woodwind instrument - which is something Ive always wanted to learn to play.
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35
Maybe it’s stupid for me to think so optimistically about us. Us. We. Two different letters With potentially two different meanings. I just don’t understand how such a beautiful human being can exist. There weren’t any signs to show me how you felt about it. Maybe I meant something different when I talked to you. Or maybe you weren’t honest to yourself about how you felt. But boy oh boy will I be honest. I loved everything I ever had with you, and I always will.
0
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 12:48 AM UTC
amanda-kyara
I'm torn
Maybe it’s stupid for me to think so optimistically about us. Us. We. Two different letters With potentially two different meanings. I just don’t understand how such a beautiful human being can exist. There weren’t any signs to show me how you felt about it. Maybe I meant something different when I talked to you. Or maybe you weren’t honest to yourself about how you felt. But boy oh boy will I be honest. I loved everything I ever had with you, and I always will.
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18
Disappointment rang in with sadness and frustration Nothing expected was wrought Disenchanted with everything within my perception My purpose in life, I sought Optimistically expectant, I rode out with confidence Anticipating, such incredible joy Seeking my purpose with an immense vigilance Forgetting life is supposed to be enjoyed Rapidly, I found myself disgusted in my constant quest For what my purpose in life is to be Exasperation set in, along with extreme unrest Until, an angry red, was all I could see Amazed and confused, I found myself taken aback Wondering, how I became so angry Watching my happiness slip through the cracks Of my unfortunate quandary I looked in the mirror, straight into my own eyes A stranger looking back I could see Decided first, I needed to try her on for size To find, what my purpose, should be
0
Sep 26, 2010
Sep 26, 2010 at 6:40 PM UTC
neva-flores
Who Am I?
Disappointment rang in with sadness and frustration Nothing expected was wrought Disenchanted with everything within my perception My purpose in life, I sought Optimistically expectant, I rode out with confidence Anticipating, such incredible joy Seeking my purpose with an immense vigilance Forgetting life is supposed to be enjoyed Rapidly, I found myself disgusted in my constant quest For what my purpose in life is to be Exasperation set in, along with extreme unrest Until, an angry red, was all I could see Amazed and confused, I found myself taken aback Wondering, how I became so angry Watching my happiness slip through the cracks Of my unfortunate quandary I looked in the mirror, straight into my own eyes A stranger looking back I could see Decided first, I needed to try her on for size To find, what my purpose, should be
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20
I think it's funny, when girls claim there's no such thing as a good guy when looking for love, As they go out... Like you'll find Prince Charming, loaded in the back of the club...you search for a smart dude, instead accept a lying slub… Who plays the tough guy and starts trouble with any dude who give you a hug. It's kinda sad...that good girls seem to enjoy the bad... Makes me question if they were taught self respect from their dad...or maybe they didn't have one so they didn't learn to block scum...so their false interpretation have them skip a star for a useless *** lets equal out the sum and do a little math, her smart brain plus her beauty equals a dumbass?wait...let me erase, a new problem I need too create, add the fact that he's ****** and her heart he violates, claiming he works late while goof out on dates as your trusting, naive mind sits home and optimistically waits... You need to better yourself, see the woman who is great, don't settle for a pretty face and immediately assume it's faith. Women I'm just trying to help, a dude with a tighten up belt, I can relate too your pain cause I know how being cheated on felt. I feel for your heart and wanna heal all your minds, just remember a dude on his own knows how to make a woman shine and he loves her for her and will always give her his all...he takes in her beauty but loves her for her flaws. I know men are tough and at times and ya have enough, we play our cards our way and you constantly have to try and call our bluffs So to all my women who read this I promise not all of us are the same and all women, we got em' This here my story for all my beautiful girls This is Girl Problems.
0
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
dougie-simps
"Girl Problems"
I think it's funny, when girls claim there's no such thing as a good guy when looking for love, As they go out... Like you'll find Prince Charming, loaded in the back of the club...you search for a smart dude, instead accept a lying slub… Who plays the tough guy and starts trouble with any dude who give you a hug. It's kinda sad...that good girls seem to enjoy the bad... Makes me question if they were taught self respect from their dad...or maybe they didn't have one so they didn't learn to block scum...so their false interpretation have them skip a star for a useless *** lets equal out the sum and do a little math, her smart brain plus her beauty equals a dumbass?wait...let me erase, a new problem I need too create, add the fact that he's ****** and her heart he violates, claiming he works late while goof out on dates as your trusting, naive mind sits home and optimistically waits... You need to better yourself, see the woman who is great, don't settle for a pretty face and immediately assume it's faith. Women I'm just trying to help, a dude with a tighten up belt, I can relate too your pain cause I know how being cheated on felt. I feel for your heart and wanna heal all your minds, just remember a dude on his own knows how to make a woman shine and he loves her for her and will always give her his all...he takes in her beauty but loves her for her flaws. I know men are tough and at times and ya have enough, we play our cards our way and you constantly have to try and call our bluffs So to all my women who read this I promise not all of us are the same and all women, we got em' This here my story for all my beautiful girls This is Girl Problems.
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13
Playing by all the rules, or so it seems, the out-law fears nothing and no one as she places her backwards cap atop her full head of fine hair, sunshades hiding her wide toffee-colored eyes. Chewing hard on a piece of wintergreen gum like a first baseman and some chaw, she grips the steering wheel as a heavy clap of bass emits a thundering chorus out her rolled-down windows into the half-empty street. Brow furrowed, the out-law ponders her next move, bobbing and weaving through one-way roads; the destination she knows, but the route is more a riddle yet to be solved. The light air and brilliant rays of sun that sneak behind puffy white clouds, the out-law senses some promise from the universe. Lungs still filled with smoky wisdom, she reflects intricately on the life lived by she in the past few months, gaining insight into her own optimistically curious soul. She slurps her Diet Coke thirstily as her cottony mouth forms words and phrases she one day wishes to utter. Time and space, they are dear friends of the out-law, so drive she does down that long windy road, twisting and turning on the beacon of self-discovery and hope. And love. The out-law watches the sky, fascinated by the rich colors the sun paints as it falls into a state of serenity, and the out-law feels so serene. Leaving comfortability and safety behind, the out-law relishes in the excitement of the unknown, getting high off the fumes of the uncertainty that looms. On she drives.
0
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 9:43 PM UTC
megb42290
Out-Law
Playing by all the rules, or so it seems, the out-law fears nothing and no one as she places her backwards cap atop her full head of fine hair, sunshades hiding her wide toffee-colored eyes. Chewing hard on a piece of wintergreen gum like a first baseman and some chaw, she grips the steering wheel as a heavy clap of bass emits a thundering chorus out her rolled-down windows into the half-empty street. Brow furrowed, the out-law ponders her next move, bobbing and weaving through one-way roads; the destination she knows, but the route is more a riddle yet to be solved. The light air and brilliant rays of sun that sneak behind puffy white clouds, the out-law senses some promise from the universe. Lungs still filled with smoky wisdom, she reflects intricately on the life lived by she in the past few months, gaining insight into her own optimistically curious soul. She slurps her Diet Coke thirstily as her cottony mouth forms words and phrases she one day wishes to utter. Time and space, they are dear friends of the out-law, so drive she does down that long windy road, twisting and turning on the beacon of self-discovery and hope. And love. The out-law watches the sky, fascinated by the rich colors the sun paints as it falls into a state of serenity, and the out-law feels so serene. Leaving comfortability and safety behind, the out-law relishes in the excitement of the unknown, getting high off the fumes of the uncertainty that looms. On she drives.
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88
Who is I? In the Now. I am of true boi essence. A writer, a recluse, abandoned only of fate: Destiny ever alluring in the palm of my hand. Limited only by my own inabilty to be present in only one consciousness. I am split between reality strings. A permeant spectre, caught betwixt parallel dimensions. At times incoherrant, lost in esoteric translation. I am physic(al) - I of breath + flesh, perception being my holster, corruption my armoury. Intuitively, i am harmonious, sanctonious, welcoming of illuminations and the darker side of each unfettered moon. Awareness sleeps by my side. Each waking minute guarded. of commonality. I am enlightened. I am bouyant. mobile, fluid-like in kinesis. Conventional existense being the foundation over which i fly. Arms outstretched, willing risk to be my pull. Enticing Love to be my drag. balance, mediums, equilibrium. Lifted high amidst winds roaring with possibility. I am stark in naked complication, although often prone to cover up in cynical, self critical analysis. I am given of self; being the taker a refreshing discourse to which i stray accordingly. Of culture i am a liar. By nature i tend towards honesty only straying when survivalistic path need tread. I am of blood, private yet optimistically open to scarring. By custom i am trained, civil, content. Of instinct; native raw tongue, i am rampant, rapid in force, compelled to grow then emerge. Only. To submerge is to take full scope. i am telescopic in view of A/all else to which i drown my vision. I am unsure if i am young, Although certain that my passage is still being lit by the glow of its entrance, dark passageways luring with their shadows and cavernous corners. I am liberal, random in speculatory silence. I am idle, often motivated by industrial desire. Mechanical in process, structured of cerebreal architecture, yet somewhat discombobulated in particularity. Sporadic be my strain, its think tank choking always on the weeds of sorrow. Essentially i am nothing: yet overwhelmingly everything. I was I am I will therefore i Exist to i as A/all and nothing. As yesterday is to tommorrow, and visa versa, i am a window, a door, a channel: as closed as i am open. Dependant only on my own deliverence of influence and potential. Driven by the promise of future and the demands of my past. I am a vehicle in time, my presence, my motion, my journey is I.
0
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 2:13 AM UTC
jacqe-booth
i
Who is I? In the Now. I am of true boi essence. A writer, a recluse, abandoned only of fate: Destiny ever alluring in the palm of my hand. Limited only by my own inabilty to be present in only one consciousness. I am split between reality strings. A permeant spectre, caught betwixt parallel dimensions. At times incoherrant, lost in esoteric translation. I am physic(al) - I of breath + flesh, perception being my holster, corruption my armoury. Intuitively, i am harmonious, sanctonious, welcoming of illuminations and the darker side of each unfettered moon. Awareness sleeps by my side. Each waking minute guarded. of commonality. I am enlightened. I am bouyant. mobile, fluid-like in kinesis. Conventional existense being the foundation over which i fly. Arms outstretched, willing risk to be my pull. Enticing Love to be my drag. balance, mediums, equilibrium. Lifted high amidst winds roaring with possibility. I am stark in naked complication, although often prone to cover up in cynical, self critical analysis. I am given of self; being the taker a refreshing discourse to which i stray accordingly. Of culture i am a liar. By nature i tend towards honesty only straying when survivalistic path need tread. I am of blood, private yet optimistically open to scarring. By custom i am trained, civil, content. Of instinct; native raw tongue, i am rampant, rapid in force, compelled to grow then emerge. Only. To submerge is to take full scope. i am telescopic in view of A/all else to which i drown my vision. I am unsure if i am young, Although certain that my passage is still being lit by the glow of its entrance, dark passageways luring with their shadows and cavernous corners. I am liberal, random in speculatory silence. I am idle, often motivated by industrial desire. Mechanical in process, structured of cerebreal architecture, yet somewhat discombobulated in particularity. Sporadic be my strain, its think tank choking always on the weeds of sorrow. Essentially i am nothing: yet overwhelmingly everything. I was I am I will therefore i Exist to i as A/all and nothing. As yesterday is to tommorrow, and visa versa, i am a window, a door, a channel: as closed as i am open. Dependant only on my own deliverence of influence and potential. Driven by the promise of future and the demands of my past. I am a vehicle in time, my presence, my motion, my journey is I.
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50
CONEIDER HIGH" Mmm life of stress, no rest. Nothang but Struggle, I ponder why it seems trouble. No one knows he struggled, Dadda sa'd tide stays not longer. Weather wiggled unstable'. Coneider strong. Clouds appear awesome and the top of the skies smell so handsome. Top on the peak of the world. Above adhere golden stones of light. Realistically loyal to life. Optimistically humanitarian. Much more to life than Destitute, if there's any infrastructural, love is, spread her wings she learnt to soar. Human is made, none cultural. Who did it save? Transformation does not come without individuality. Power of love create solidarity. '4gi'e me' f'r my flaws already bow' my head. I wish more freedom as free as tree (s) fixate hove on Cloudnine as I'm high. C9fm
0
Jan 3, 2021
Jan 3, 2021 at 6:59 AM UTC
cloudnine-fairmane-c-9-fm
CONEIDER HIGH
CONEIDER HIGH" Mmm life of stress, no rest. Nothang but Struggle, I ponder why it seems trouble. No one knows he struggled, Dadda sa'd tide stays not longer. Weather wiggled unstable'. Coneider strong. Clouds appear awesome and the top of the skies smell so handsome. Top on the peak of the world. Above adhere golden stones of light. Realistically loyal to life. Optimistically humanitarian. Much more to life than Destitute, if there's any infrastructural, love is, spread her wings she learnt to soar. Human is made, none cultural. Who did it save? Transformation does not come without individuality. Power of love create solidarity. '4gi'e me' f'r my flaws already bow' my head. I wish more freedom as free as tree (s) fixate hove on Cloudnine as I'm high. C9fm
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27
Ripping up flowers Tearing off petals Shooting down stars Watching them fall Snatching up broken dreams Burying them all Six feet under I hope my tears Drown out the sound Echoing in your ears Of screaming and pleading For all these years Overgrown weeds And heavy grey clouds Even shadows have shadows Guess everyone has a past Threw my penny into the well Well, I guess that didn’t end up too well. It’s like you were Jack and I was Jill But it wasn’t Jill who took the spill It was jack who fell Under the spell Of that little girl Jill Who had the best will And intentions Full of questions Bright eyed And engaging Optimistically waiting For the right guy To happen on by Well once she met Jack She never looked back And that was that A fairytale ending Except that wishing well Went straight to hell And that water was poisoned That penny corroded Exposing the truth The ignorance of youth You weren’t all you seemed A wolf in sheep’s clothing Bursting at the seams The real you came through But that’s old news What’s worse is I stayed Even though day after day It all was the same Routine You think I would have learned But I didn’t And you were only acquitted When death finally admitted You to its domain I hope it rains Every day Over your **** grave And that the most beautiful flowers Grow just out of reach Not visible between weeds And that when the leaves change And the snow falls You’re left with nothing Nothing at all But the miserable company Of what’s left of your “love” for me.
0
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
experimental-habits
Weeds in the Garden of Eden.
Ripping up flowers Tearing off petals Shooting down stars Watching them fall Snatching up broken dreams Burying them all Six feet under I hope my tears Drown out the sound Echoing in your ears Of screaming and pleading For all these years Overgrown weeds And heavy grey clouds Even shadows have shadows Guess everyone has a past Threw my penny into the well Well, I guess that didn’t end up too well. It’s like you were Jack and I was Jill But it wasn’t Jill who took the spill It was jack who fell Under the spell Of that little girl Jill Who had the best will And intentions Full of questions Bright eyed And engaging Optimistically waiting For the right guy To happen on by Well once she met Jack She never looked back And that was that A fairytale ending Except that wishing well Went straight to hell And that water was poisoned That penny corroded Exposing the truth The ignorance of youth You weren’t all you seemed A wolf in sheep’s clothing Bursting at the seams The real you came through But that’s old news What’s worse is I stayed Even though day after day It all was the same Routine You think I would have learned But I didn’t And you were only acquitted When death finally admitted You to its domain I hope it rains Every day Over your **** grave And that the most beautiful flowers Grow just out of reach Not visible between weeds And that when the leaves change And the snow falls You’re left with nothing Nothing at all But the miserable company Of what’s left of your “love” for me.
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68
Diagnostic- Unknown Perhaps another cause of unknown blues Induced by memories clenching to nerves Fondling the withered mind Withering... withering... withering away. Fusing to her pores Recycled from a whiff of intoxicated breath Nails coated with anxiety Eyes, dazed, drug heavy-peaking. ****** appetite?- unaffected Patient rationality?- Logical Distressed, but unnoticeable Lost, but optimistically searching Health History?- Discreet Just a mere case of teenage disillusion Nerves?- Resonating memory-filled-synapes Lungs?- Intoxicated Lips?- Sealed shut Pores?- Perspiring nostalgia Heart? Misunderstood emptiness unknown ache
0
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 10:00 AM UTC
nicole-guevara
Diagnostic-Unknown
Diagnostic- Unknown Perhaps another cause of unknown blues Induced by memories clenching to nerves Fondling the withered mind Withering... withering... withering away. Fusing to her pores Recycled from a whiff of intoxicated breath Nails coated with anxiety Eyes, dazed, drug heavy-peaking. ****** appetite?- unaffected Patient rationality?- Logical Distressed, but unnoticeable Lost, but optimistically searching Health History?- Discreet Just a mere case of teenage disillusion Nerves?- Resonating memory-filled-synapes Lungs?- Intoxicated Lips?- Sealed shut Pores?- Perspiring nostalgia Heart? Misunderstood emptiness unknown ache
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23
Have you ever felt the impulse, the urge, the need To scream, to shout, to yell out "I love you!" You want to run head first, at full speed And hope for sheer luck to pull you through Have you ever craved, wanted, dreamed To throw away, to hide, to cast aside your inhibitions? You wish for everything to be as it seemed And optimistically pray for easy transitions Have you ever felt useless, undeserving, unworthy Of a person, of their mind, of their soul You are on an amazing journey And I am left in awe from your being as a whole
0
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 7:29 PM UTC
meghan-trottier
Meanwhile, You're Far Far Away
Have you ever felt the impulse, the urge, the need To scream, to shout, to yell out "I love you!" You want to run head first, at full speed And hope for sheer luck to pull you through Have you ever craved, wanted, dreamed To throw away, to hide, to cast aside your inhibitions? You wish for everything to be as it seemed And optimistically pray for easy transitions Have you ever felt useless, undeserving, unworthy Of a person, of their mind, of their soul You are on an amazing journey And I am left in awe from your being as a whole
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12
When we're mad, we see red. When we're sad, we are blue. When we're healthy, we're in the pink. When we have money, we're in the black. When we're broke, we're in the red. When we're scared, we're yellow. We get green with envy and grey with uncertainty. We can be... True blue Optimistically rosy Perfectly golden Tickled pink White trash Blackballed Red hot. Transparent even... Look at us. We're masterpieces! We're colorful, colorless, proverbial off-beat sky-hung rainbows. In the spectrum, off the palette, layer upon layer of brushed on, sprayed on, finger daubed works of breathing, loving, dying, living art wanting to be admired, put on display, protected, loved and adored. We live our lives in color.
0
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC
travis-barefoot
Life in Color
When we're mad, we see red. When we're sad, we are blue. When we're healthy, we're in the pink. When we have money, we're in the black. When we're broke, we're in the red. When we're scared, we're yellow. We get green with envy and grey with uncertainty. We can be... True blue Optimistically rosy Perfectly golden Tickled pink White trash Blackballed Red hot. Transparent even... Look at us. We're masterpieces! We're colorful, colorless, proverbial off-beat sky-hung rainbows. In the spectrum, off the palette, layer upon layer of brushed on, sprayed on, finger daubed works of breathing, loving, dying, living art wanting to be admired, put on display, protected, loved and adored. We live our lives in color.
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21
He was never far away; And the last to ever say he was gone Was the same who could stutter brains and brawn away in the skylight. The city is bigger and pretty, Prettier aesthetically in his brain, Where the pretty place he remains is driving him insane, Can you blame him? He called it, in the end, He even said it was around the bend, Yet as a friend to himself he threw out a hand to lend In verbal assistance. He feels the grease caress his fingers, As the smell of sadness lingers, In his mind from a past mistake he did partake upon himself to rightfully correct. He is hauling himself from Hell, Smacked straight in the face by the sale of his emotions to sadness, He is buying back his shares, Because he cares. He was never one to trust complete optimism; In fact he felt like optimism was simply one side of a schism, That would take 1 step forward, Only to end-up 2 steps back, and off-track. Maybe it's his misuse of the art; But logic and realism are a part of his mind he can't silence. He believes himself to be, Optimistically realistic; One who will not deny life's hardships a good cry, But will strive to try in making things better using the side that's much brighter, And lighter. He is a fighter who looks not to fight, But to do right, and live life, Beyond his work as a writer.
0
Mar 19, 2011
Mar 19, 2011 at 9:56 PM UTC
tread
Optimistically Realistic
He was never far away; And the last to ever say he was gone Was the same who could stutter brains and brawn away in the skylight. The city is bigger and pretty, Prettier aesthetically in his brain, Where the pretty place he remains is driving him insane, Can you blame him? He called it, in the end, He even said it was around the bend, Yet as a friend to himself he threw out a hand to lend In verbal assistance. He feels the grease caress his fingers, As the smell of sadness lingers, In his mind from a past mistake he did partake upon himself to rightfully correct. He is hauling himself from Hell, Smacked straight in the face by the sale of his emotions to sadness, He is buying back his shares, Because he cares. He was never one to trust complete optimism; In fact he felt like optimism was simply one side of a schism, That would take 1 step forward, Only to end-up 2 steps back, and off-track. Maybe it's his misuse of the art; But logic and realism are a part of his mind he can't silence. He believes himself to be, Optimistically realistic; One who will not deny life's hardships a good cry, But will strive to try in making things better using the side that's much brighter, And lighter. He is a fighter who looks not to fight, But to do right, and live life, Beyond his work as a writer.
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32
i saw a downed tree two weeks ago. it was green and full of life despite the evenly-spaced, spliced logs its trunk had become. each with over forty circles, outstanding the test of time others could not. to us time is current, to nature it is recurrent. all we know are the rings around, cycles repeated, cycles abound. we stand ready to survive the day, while nature stows and stocks away. for next year, for many to come, nature, like the tree, prepares to endure its run. we say let's live to see another day, why not another year? would ten not be okay? calculations, calculations, always counting through observation. abacus please don't feed me lies, the tree grows rings and then it dies. blooming, blossoming, full of expression, its leaves are brown now, nourished recession. but fear not how, not when, nor why, this poor giant never planned to die. see, up they grow, from seedling or sapling, to shade us all, optimistically happening. no bowing their chins, no lowering their gaze, for the sunshine is their life force today. if ever dazed, lost or swayed, just climb a tree and learn its ways. the future can't be met just yet, go ahead, breathe in the day. all we know are the rings around, cycles repeated, cycles abound.
0
Jul 6, 2011
Jul 6, 2011 at 12:23 AM UTC
noel-irion
the rings around
i saw a downed tree two weeks ago. it was green and full of life despite the evenly-spaced, spliced logs its trunk had become. each with over forty circles, outstanding the test of time others could not. to us time is current, to nature it is recurrent. all we know are the rings around, cycles repeated, cycles abound. we stand ready to survive the day, while nature stows and stocks away. for next year, for many to come, nature, like the tree, prepares to endure its run. we say let's live to see another day, why not another year? would ten not be okay? calculations, calculations, always counting through observation. abacus please don't feed me lies, the tree grows rings and then it dies. blooming, blossoming, full of expression, its leaves are brown now, nourished recession. but fear not how, not when, nor why, this poor giant never planned to die. see, up they grow, from seedling or sapling, to shade us all, optimistically happening. no bowing their chins, no lowering their gaze, for the sunshine is their life force today. if ever dazed, lost or swayed, just climb a tree and learn its ways. the future can't be met just yet, go ahead, breathe in the day. all we know are the rings around, cycles repeated, cycles abound.
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33
*Life is scary because its unpredictable, But then it is its mystery that gives hope. When opportunity knocks, Open the door,go through it.. Its discouraging when we realise we may not see tomorrow,so we just let life be and not feel like taking control, But what we should realise is that we may actually see tomorrow and regret losing an opportunity.. Therefore whatever you can lay your hands on today,do it with your whole heart optimistically hoping that you will see the results of your work. Life is unpredictable,its deep like that but its beautiful.. so much beauty we can find in it..*
0
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 12:39 PM UTC
tapiwa
God,I need a title for this one...
*Life is scary because its unpredictable, But then it is its mystery that gives hope. When opportunity knocks, Open the door,go through it.. Its discouraging when we realise we may not see tomorrow,so we just let life be and not feel like taking control, But what we should realise is that we may actually see tomorrow and regret losing an opportunity.. Therefore whatever you can lay your hands on today,do it with your whole heart optimistically hoping that you will see the results of your work. Life is unpredictable,its deep like that but its beautiful.. so much beauty we can find in it..*
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8
Simple yet a affective We dream of the day without needing disinfectant It's not that we are ***** It's that we are And never will be clean Enough We will never be 100% No germ No ******** It's written in pen But you accidentally smudged it with your freshly cleaned linen We live in a world where everything is a mess But optimistically call it's it "A little spill" Or "a few crumbs" You never hear anyone talk about how ****** the world is Like they're going to get something done Not any sort of panic No fear of the unknown It's become so normal That we forget that we are owned Some one has a file with our name on it In a drawer, in a room with only one door But someone locked it And no one knows who But if there is anything to look forward to There is a door And behind it The world is so much more
0
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
livingkurt
Secrets
Simple yet a affective We dream of the day without needing disinfectant It's not that we are ***** It's that we are And never will be clean Enough We will never be 100% No germ No ******** It's written in pen But you accidentally smudged it with your freshly cleaned linen We live in a world where everything is a mess But optimistically call it's it "A little spill" Or "a few crumbs" You never hear anyone talk about how ****** the world is Like they're going to get something done Not any sort of panic No fear of the unknown It's become so normal That we forget that we are owned Some one has a file with our name on it In a drawer, in a room with only one door But someone locked it And no one knows who But if there is anything to look forward to There is a door And behind it The world is so much more
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29
I have a pessimists heart, It's been that way from the start, See the negative in everything, My dear I tell you, I've got a pessimists heart, This is something that will never change, It's been this way too long to change, I always know something will go wrong, I feel as if I knew it would happen all along, My predictions are almost never wrong, So my dear, I'll tell you again, I've got myself a pessimists heart, Now, many people want my ways to change, They want me to see the bright side of things, But that won't happen, Because they're is no bright side to this world I see, The world I see, it's never happy, Things at home are beginning to suffocate me, Some day, I'm going to leave, And not come back, That will be the day I begin to see things optimistically.
0
May 21, 2012
May 21, 2012 at 5:01 PM UTC
johnnie-rae
A pessimists heart.
I have a pessimists heart, It's been that way from the start, See the negative in everything, My dear I tell you, I've got a pessimists heart, This is something that will never change, It's been this way too long to change, I always know something will go wrong, I feel as if I knew it would happen all along, My predictions are almost never wrong, So my dear, I'll tell you again, I've got myself a pessimists heart, Now, many people want my ways to change, They want me to see the bright side of things, But that won't happen, Because they're is no bright side to this world I see, The world I see, it's never happy, Things at home are beginning to suffocate me, Some day, I'm going to leave, And not come back, That will be the day I begin to see things optimistically.
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21
good grief shrieks the silence I have not obtained Yet still optimistically await inside the corridor of mind chatter I am. Yes man, I'd scram if that's your plan - it demands too many details From those who have less substance that whispers from mutes to deaf ears. He is not real; I am not allowing the nots! He is just real and perfect for me... I am secretly affected to transmutation of myself into a silly girl. Do not reveal what I have just revealed. No telling how I strategized this maneuver, With subconsciousness in the captain's chair No co-pilot at hand. I am very hopeful for the self to not this time ruin Whatever he sees that he seeks to be near-to... Wish me luck on that one, too... I know I shall Get this one and not have it unveiled as another All possibilities do stand open and waiting our choices to live Our story so good it is certainly outlawed and classified So good it is we almost forget we really just wanted to die When I ran into him in the street that night.
0
Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 4:40 PM UTC
karen-hoose
getting off infinity
good grief shrieks the silence I have not obtained Yet still optimistically await inside the corridor of mind chatter I am. Yes man, I'd scram if that's your plan - it demands too many details From those who have less substance that whispers from mutes to deaf ears. He is not real; I am not allowing the nots! He is just real and perfect for me... I am secretly affected to transmutation of myself into a silly girl. Do not reveal what I have just revealed. No telling how I strategized this maneuver, With subconsciousness in the captain's chair No co-pilot at hand. I am very hopeful for the self to not this time ruin Whatever he sees that he seeks to be near-to... Wish me luck on that one, too... I know I shall Get this one and not have it unveiled as another All possibilities do stand open and waiting our choices to live Our story so good it is certainly outlawed and classified So good it is we almost forget we really just wanted to die When I ran into him in the street that night.
Continue reading...
20