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Lynnette Apr 2019
We live in a judgemental society
Where the real you is only abstract.
From a young age we are taught to believe
That only society can define how you act.

From the moment we enter the world
We are forced to sign a contact.
Torn away from freedom of opinion
We begin our journey with no way back.

Beauty overrules personality
Money defines your future
Being intelligent is a crime
And standing out makes you a loser.

The paths you choose to follow
Always end the same.
There is no way to escape society
Because we all have been chained.

People are ridiculed for being happy
But called weak when sad.
We dare not share our views
For we’d be labelled as mad.

We live in a judgemental society
Where no one seems to win.
Forced to be someone society defines,
The real you fades within.
This poem is about the way people judge us for who we are and what we do.
Nat Lipstadt May 2017
~
from the anthology of the unwritten,
from the tombs of the stillborn,
where carcasses of idled titles and orphaned stanzas
do not compete for proof of life,  
and
nameless birth certificates unissued,
yellowing and wasting midst
crumbling aleph bet spawn

here
comes a poem of concession
comes a poem of summation
of a life lived, knotted poorly, not well,
worse cursed as vanilla inadequate

the satisfaction in the writing,
the gleeful breaking of the sac,
the gushing relief giving way to
the childbirth of a new moon-poem,
arrested, wrested

a single plague affliction,
the cancer of weakness,
means Pharaoh wins

the cancer of weakness
no cure, no pharmaceutical poultice,
spreads insidious; one day - pain in the remote,
your big toe, then
next you can only street stagger
begging forgiveness and the kindness of strangers
hoping for the accidental cure of touch,
the miscellany lottery ticket probability of low chance

the visible mark you leave,
a weak indentation upon a pillow,
it is the dented head, cut deep by the shadow,
shake it out and you're a disappeared one,
nothing to show,  
did someone once sleep here?

you were once upon a time
binary
a 1
now a 0 -
flip flop bottom top,
listening to Frank's "That's Life"^

my litany too long;
woeful work this business of flailing,
posting a tired-out self help love poem
ain't no cure for the falling-out-of-love
black and blue, self-inflicted bruising blues,
the wrists ache
the bones don't freak
but squeal, somebody's squeezing me

the alarm clock, a death knell,
everyone saying don't worry  
you got a proven record,
the boss's eyes twinkling
"but what have you done for me lately?"

funny

Death says
Hey, aren't you the boss?
Who shall over rule thy Dominion?
What have thy done to yourself lately?

Answer: never end a poem with a question mark @
3:06am
^"I've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate
A poet, a pawn and a king
I've been up and down and over and out
And I know one thing
Each time I find myself flat on my face
I pick myself up and get back in the race
That's life (that's life) I tell ya, I can't deny it
I thought of quitting, baby
But my heart just ain't gonna buy it
And if I didn't think it was worth one single try
I'd jump…"

A lyric from "That's Life", Frank Sinatra
Simpleton May 2013
I believe that fairy tales are just that: fairy tales.
Magic doesn't exist, and of course imagination is just that: imagination.

Something not real, an internalised, idealised creation.
Happy ever afters,
and Prince Charming hero's,
are just a lovers fantasy notions.

But we are there,
You know,
at that stage where Romeo is madly in love with...Rosaline.

Those evil family relations surround us and a wicked stepmother who overrules.
Girls everywhere are obsessed with being the fairest of them all,
Eagerly anticipating a dark and handsome: Mr. Tall.

Waiting on that fairy godmother to appear,
but its already too late because the wolfs already had his dinner,
and a sleeping beauty has yet to be kissed out of her nightmare.
Brianna Ki Apr 2014
This reoccurring nightmare overrules me deep in sleep
Won’t wake me from my slumber,
Imprisons me in this keep


I try to run, I try to scream.
This is my certainty
Stuck in this bad dream


There, all about me are these stone cold walls
Over-protecting, so suspicious, untrusting …
They guard my soul.
Asking why are they so **** tall.


Restricting my heart I’m bound.
Powerless, I trail this authority
What hope is there now?


I pray in this frigid nightmare for the strength that I won’t break
Eager to be released from this lonely place
I’ll lie right here. My sanity they can’t take.
Written Oct. 2nd 2013
Cedric McClester Aug 2019
By: Cedric McClester

We're either a nation of cowards
Or a nation of fools
When our kids shelter in place
Inside of their schools
And our president breaks
All of the rules
And locks children in cages
Which proves that he's cruel

We're either a nation of cowards
Or a nation of fools
When criminals are pardoned
As part of the tools
That the president uses
To protect his footstools
Which he bandies about
Like they were precious jewels

We're either a nation of cowards
Or a nation of fools
Who proceed blindly
Like a wagon train of mules
Who are being driven
By an assortment of ghouls
Who push our buttons
And change our molecules

We're either a nation of cowards
Or a nation of fools
Who resist climate change
And biofuels
Those who mention them
He simply overrules
With little resistance
From those he ridicules





Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2019.  All rights reserved.
Almighty King! whose wondrous hand
Supports the weight of sea and land;
Whose grace is such a boundless store,
No heart shall break that sighs for more.

Thy providence supplies my food,
And 'tis Thy blessing makes it good;
My soul is nourish'd by Thy Word,
Let soul and body praise the Lord!

My streams of outward comfort came
From Him who built this earthly frame;
Whate'er I want His bounty gives,
By whom my soul forever lives.

Either His hand preserves from pain,
Or, if I feel it, heals again;
From Satan's malice shields my breast,
Or overrules it for the best.

Forgive the song that falls so low
Beneath the gratitude I owe!
It means Thy praise: however poor,
An angel's song can do no more.
Sally A Bayan Dec 2015
(Recurring Reflections And Beliefs)

Birthday after birthday
i keep looking back...
and find five girls always on my tail,
i see them as my regular paparazzi
when i am in my busiest moments,
when things work out adversely,
against all my best efforts
i find them still tagging along with me...

And then,
i look back at my most trying times
i recall those epiphanies that came to light my way,
how they guided me through,
until i was out of the dark tunnel...
.....until that MOMENT came
when i could hear with just one ear,
i have no regrets, though, or anger within,
for, i could still hear the leaves rustle
when a light breeze blows...
i hear even the dry oak leaves
as they hit the ground,
or when an empty plastic cup
is blown by the wind
from corner to corner of the street...
these days, i am more aware
of the bees buzzing on top of the flowers,
the birds, scattering seeds, helping
create new lives on the ground.....
i still clearly hear the hummingbird flapping its wings,
hovering, as it drinks from the bird feeder,
even as dusk sets in...
i hear the mockingbird...as it closes its wings
and roosts on a pine twig.....

One vital truth keeps me going-
i still have my one good ear
my eyes, my arms, my feet...
always, i am reminded of this question:
why did God endow us with two eyes,
two ears, two hands, two feet?
we lose one, there is still the other
in our daily lives, the same thing applies
among our loved ones and friends,
we lose some, we gain some....
some doors close, another one opens...
second, even third chances are ever waiting,
a fresh start is always there to be claimed...

In this stretch of my life,
i still am faced with choices on paths to take,
those once transitory thoughts
still visit and within me, they stir..
but, reason and good judgment
rise above all...

.....these things, i have realized---
most of what i wanted then...and didn't get,
i have now let go....
selflessness is inevitable,
there are people...things...to be prioritized
over  our own happiness
understanding is important
.....seeing myself here, now,
.....i am happy,
.....i am no longer there
still, i am glad to have been there...

When asked the most puzzling questions,
i have learned to turn
to the wisdom of the children,
i always, always have but one answer....
"...just because...".

At this point and time,
life, still is not perfect...
but i have known how to be calm,
as i face each new day...
perfect, or imperfect,
it doesn't matter anymore,
heart and mind have been honed,
for this knowledge overrules all others:

God is beside me, He is behind me...
He leads me,
He's got me covered...
i have nothing to fear...

(November 13, 2013)


Sally

Copyright November 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***sorry, guys, i couldn't make this one shorter...***
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2017
so many people seem to be only limbo dancing...
fat-diagnosed                         meta-humans,
                   and juxta...
they the are scorn of a thousand
chinese labourers...
                      who later squirm...
    i forget what speaking english was about...
it's this carelessness
  that somehow surmounts the ideal practicality of it...
  it's somehow shadowy...
  somehow removed from all need to:
extract a core of struct cipher...
             long before the software makes
man his decrepit-self, there's
the metallurgy of the conclave...
                           and the is the minor statement:
if man is to breach a culprit worthy of being denoted:
a meteor.
                      prior to the hardware,
there needs to be a software insurgence...
                  a fail-safe mechanisation,
with us, imprinted as: beyond the death of god,
the death of sleep... and the capacity to dream...
                      nihilism revolves around retracting the
last ******* cursor...
                               all machinery rests,
it's a question of whether organic matter ever
    contradicts its inorganic humanisation...
             if i am bound to rest, then i bound to not
be woken from such a rest via a nightmare...
   erradicate nightmares, thus erradicate the organic
cursor bound to invoke...
  all other contradications that counter the
originally intent escapade...
                               if indeed $ is a symbol that is insomniac
when 1 - 9 symbols are used toward no signifying σ...
that there is no actual prefix in arranging a - z
as there already is, perfecting arranging the 0 - 9...
   with the σ being the more: well addressed... in being
                           what is the reigning smmation of
the symbols a - z, as the simply unknown cradle...
   so if the symbols 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 can be governed
by $...
            what number can govern
                               a, b, c, d, e, f... r, s, t, u, v, w, x, y, z...
if not Ø?                   emtpy talk...
                       0 is a symbol for negation...
                  say of 0, Ø: you get affirmation..
  and you can say as much as you want...
        it doesn't mean you'll get the proper mediation
of being nearly human in the endeavour, a mediation
that demands: losers and winners, paupers and kings...
    man outlived the concept of letters and words
having any worthy construction...
    anything worthy of collaborating with...
                 there is no higher grownd with words and letters...
   it's the five-sense endorsement man that's
at a loss...
                    as long as
  there's the fewest numbers
                        to posit, once the
              hierarchy of 0 is stated after the comma...
and the number of crude denials are mustered...
  toward the million-shared among the 1% and not
the 0.1%...
                  once the Tolstoy's opus is worth:
0.0000000001 readership...
                      and a poem is 1.000000000's worth...
    we'll continue with this warfare of symbol...
       hierarchy:
               the one denied by the many: is the hierarchy...
and the one acknowledged by the many: is the monarchy...
   somehow it was worthwhile reading Kant,
given he suggested 0 = negation...
meaning that 1 = affirmation, but that was the least
   bother for me to attest...
                       i just found
    disavowing myself from the argument of god
as befitting man: who had no standard in a termite mount...
or an ant colony...
                         if man was indeed prone toward
such perfection, i'd have no concern to form a politics at all...
    man, as a political animal, as an animal non-intuitive,
as an animal overcome with conscience,
  has no place in man: guarded by such angelism...
  coinciding with duty and fakery: for the worth of prayer
and an albino amnesia.
and never prone to intuition and a synchronisation of the senses,
but rather their divergence... epitomised with
sharpening them in the sphere of intoxication...
        if man was indeed prone to such perfection,
    i'd have no concern from a politics at all...
  man, as a political anima, as an animal non-intuitive:
as anima ego-centra...
    could be neither a tangens or an omni-servitude
divergence of all the species, on the palette...
esp.  wondering if he could be:
  insect prone, rather than bedroom fuelled by mammalian
        jealous prods into: ******* gladiators!
                          religion only relapses into upkeeping
this utopian dream of it never happening...
   of a congregation...
                    imagine the Koran or the bible in China...
    common-sense numbers of China said: nope!
               the Chinese would have said: me mongol,
and slaughtered each other... for the bride to be!
  i really didn't want to write this for a reason that it might
be made dogmatic, or kept for posterity,
or a welcome inquiry...
                              i simply wonder why we dream
of world peace, and yet come up with such
diabolical schematics as Jung's collective unconscious...
    and all that: as if dreams really did require a 1 + 1 = 2
rules of interpretation...
    and all our dreams where: **** or phallus dreaming...
protruding in the oven of being flacid, once, so overcome with
thoughts, than in dream, or Buddha's awakening:
pretty correct in being: full blodied,
  stood up to overcoming shyness...
                                     and at least said: an astronaut's hello...
     ego to hyphen, non-complex word... complex
word to Houston... why wasn't it mission Hermes 13?
     i don't think we should believe in those gods...
but it would make great strides in asserting them
as best in a modern vocabulary...
                              Hermes overrules Apollo...
               there was a message intended in that vanity project,
surely!
Ria Nagpal Jun 2013
Born are we in a world brimming with chaos and unrest,
Where slave trade is no surprise,
The cries of our fellow comrades go unheard,
This cannot go on any longer,
Destruction overrules our constitution.

Every human deserves a chance,
To live a life that is filled with joy and gaiety,
Those are the rights that the Lord gifted them,
And no other human has any right to revoke them.

Are humans so hostile,
That they don't care about others' suffering and pain,
Has the thorn in your flesh stabbed your heart for too long?
That the emotion is leaving you, that you no longer care?

If you believe in the Lord,
You have to believe in others,
And if you destroy others,
You are destroying yourself,
You are killing your own rights.
Zambra Gutierrez Jan 2011
The catch about alcoholic beverages is not exactly what you're taught, again and again, during school.

The catch is not that it impairs your thinking and awareness abilities. It is how even though one is fully aware of the situation at hand, carelessness overrules all other emotions (besides lust) and logical reasoning.

This - and nothing else - is what pushed me to commit a sin I would've otherwise not committed.

That, indeed, is quite an astonishing fact considering all the opportunities I'm willing to take in a heartbeat that others would deny in the same, or even less, amount  of time.

Perhaps the thought of my now-carried-out transgression had crossed, and even lingered on, my mind.

But the dizzying poison fabricated them into action.
12/18/10
Arcassin B Oct 2020
By Arcassin B

Slash, dangerous,
Break in some glass, I'm your home,
The tranquil place, the happy place,
about to be drowned in blood,
Fixing William Shatner mask,
I carry my demons heavily on my shoulder,
Provoking me, you would also be stupid to get
close to me,
The devil's messenger incarnate leaking through scared and drippy as I ascended the passage of evil,
Be glad I didn't RIP out the pupils,
I'm way worse than messily cabin fever,
The one that snips Roses and tulips,
Like chasing after a relative that doesn't think I exist,
Letting them know that my legend lives,
No dogs live to take a ****,
You could get the blade or the fist,
Halloween is the day of bliss,
A devil on a night like this,
Wake to fulfill demon hour wish,
Wake to fulfill demon hour wish,
A devil on a night like this,
Halloween is the day of bliss,
You could get the blade or the fist.




I could feel as good as I feel , when I,
Let go,
We could make this right in our wills,
Feel free,
I don't know,
I don't know,
The horrors that await you can not illustrate you,
Their aiming to take this world from you,
specifics when theres rent due, they would want to
take you,
No streets , cars or avenues,
The hills definitely have eyes , we call them vultures,
Infiltration in disguise, we are their adventures,
A voyage , a play , a stage to be performed on,
This life is too fake to hold on,
Wool over the eyes of some , might as well put the mold on,
I wouldn't leave you to dry and dye a different color of your love for me, positivity overrules this tree,

Don't you ever think that I, don't love you cause I do, don't **** me,
It would break my heart if you , thought i didn't care, don't eat me,
Don't you ever think that I, don't love you cause I do,
It would break my heart if you , thought i didn't care.


©abpoetry2020 ©arcassinburnham2020.
https://arcassin.blogspot.com/p/demon-hourz-ep.html
An Uncommon Poet Sep 2014
I leaned against the countertop of the bar
A dark cloud lingering over me
"where are you" she asked
Lost I said
Everywhere but here
Everywhere but in this room
my head wanderlust
tsunamis tunneled through my thought
storms flooded my veins
mountains weighted my shoulders
I lost strength to compel
as a strain
they gain humor
as I struggle
they watch
my mind caved in
the bottle wasn't enough to dilute me
i drank myself to a midnight sweat
I ached of second thoughts and regrets
my hands shake
my knees tremble
Himalayas entrenched my curiosity
my light my intelligence
People loved me for what I was worth
but now I'm nothing
But a man of the innocent destruction
a ticking time bomb
an experimental reconstruction
People destroyed me
A test of sort
A worthy companion
polluted by corporate control and egotistic capitalism
I'm nothing now
But people like you don't help
You're more worried about Why I ache and am at loss
Rather than aiding the pain I've gone through first
Comfort detracts once curiosity overrules care and sympathy
No I don't ask for empathy and compassion
Just someone with an imagination
to be my distraction from my eternal collapse
I'm more than a societal experiment
I'm human
But today, what is that worth?
There are so many people that could just make you or break you,
The constant remarks and snickers from other girls that you are too fat,
You stop eating all together,
How could people be so obnoxious?
If you're not a size 6 you are not good looking,
You won't eat again until you are just skin and bones,
You won't ever be as perfect as those models, NEVER.
You develop a constant obsession with being perfect,
When really you can't see what you are doing to yourself.
Others around you notice but choose to ignore.
When one day you have a fight with your mother in public,
She calls you 'A stupid, ugly, anorexic *****',
But this deosn't sting anymore because you are so used to abuse from her,
She frequently tries to run you out of the family,
Not even caring that you are her own flesh and blood,
Her fear controls her,
The fear of having one of 'those' people in her family overrules her judgment,
The times you needed her she turned her back,
Every action you did made her loath you even more,
She puts in a face to please those around her,
But you know the real her,
And your are ashamed to call her, but still do,
Your mother.
KillerLaurel Oct 2011
Solitude.
A place of my Own
To be Alone
Silence or Pounding Music
Blocking out the Outside world
Soft, damp Color on my hands
Sticky as it dries
Cool, wet paint smears
Brushing my hair back
Worn, wooden paint brush
Rough, peeling
Starting to Rust
Familiar to my hand
Gliding,
Gliding Over
Clean, white canvas
Fumes not Good
Not Bad.
The Scent of fresh
Paint. There
And Loved.

Inside I am Alone
Alone, but Never lonely
Like the mirrors of a Carnival
Distorted, I Am.
There is Angry and
There is Sad and there
Is Hyper and there is
Smart
Sometimes Angry and Sad hang out
And their complaints Create that
Pounding,
Pounding, Aching
Pulsing Pain in my Head
Behind my Eyes and in My
Heart.
Sometimes Hyper overrules the Others
And Smart sits in the Back row
Quietly Calculating the Costs
Because Smart is also Cold and Alone
Observing Life through a Window
Hyper can Chatter Away
Occasionally Forgetting how to make Proper
Words in Her
Excitement.
In the absence of breath,
There is no life.
Movements cease,
Songs make slight sense,
Agony overrules,
As smiles disappear.
Laughter is mockery,
Joy is very dim,
Happiness is blurry.
And only pain is clear.
In the absence of breath,there is no life.
But what happens in the absence of life?
jeffrey conyers Sep 2012
Conflict of the heart.
Conflict of the mind.
Which one should you follow.
As love is affecting you.

One overrules the other many of times.
Creating a division that will warp your mind.
One says go.
One says hold on.
I'm in control.

Those that says follow your heart.
Also seems to be the same ones saying listen to your mind.

You under the spell of conflict.
Which will eventually drives you to fit.

Conflict of the heart.
Conflict of the mind.
We follow one for pleasurable joy.
Which is mostly the one that leaves you standing out side the door.

While the one we should listen too.
Is bringing all types of guilt upon you.
By secretly reminding you.
Who you truly should have listen too?
Nicole Bataclan Jun 2014
Maybe she loves too easily
Yet she means it when she says it
Her heart on the table
For the person to devour it.

Maybe she loves too easily
She should see how things will evolve
Before flying, one has to first learn
How to crawl.

Maybe she gives herself entirely
That she should protect herself
So she will not be deceived
So briskly.

Maybe she gives herself entirely
And she should not unless she wants
To slowly sparge the pieces
Of yet another shattered heart.


    She gives her love too easily
    But when the ones she adores
    make it worth it
    It overrules
    All other times
    She ended up sobbing like a fool
    The only way to live
    To give is to receive
    She chooses easily
    Over carefully,
    Her heart
    For the taking.
DiamondGirl Dec 2014
I am not the diamond girl,
That is, I am not strong for compassion often overrules
I am not clear it is quite difficult for me to express my self on the first try
and hard no I'm soft a mush...
Although sometimes I wish I was strong, clear, and hard

But maybe I am the diamond girl
The diamond girl who emerged from a blackness-
That is prismatic
Ha! a piñata at times,
Shiny(glitter tactlessly applied),
With many faces, hmmm
Who am I tonight-

That is I!
That is the diamond girl
I am!
******* :)))
Emily Fell Oct 2015
My iridescent mind
Is no longer subtly out of control.
I've passed the point of madness,
Overthinking
Until I reach the brink.

Tucked under the paranoia
Is the key to my relief.

Disbelief and trust issues
Seeping from my brain
Into the depths of my lungs,
The pit of my stomach,
Brimming my heart.

But the key is lost
And can never be found,
For my iridescent mind overrules it,
And keeps it as a weapon
So the mind can live,
As I so delicately fade away.
Bruised bitter apple:
the horror! To roll across my tracks.
Of the crab variety,
we decipher what's in cider.
Fright, how might, precisely,
the worms persisted- when once
flesh was tender enough?
Now they are dead, the apple dented
where butted their unsuspecting heads.
When guts are made a graveyard,
no Wicked Queen’s power overrules
the external grotesque, or the royal
inner circle’s internal damage, ringed
  like trees,
   like circles of hell.
Sour taste, and, more importantly--
wriggling, struggling,
self-pesticidal hopes and dreams.
Unsightly to fit their environs.
Some as parasites, but some only friends.
donnie Jun 2018
a hand to hold
sounds so precious
as i lay
in an empty bed
with a full heart
waiting
for someone
to take my hand
my brain overflows
with the thoughts of one
but i dare not tip the glass
for the fear of a spill
overrules the aching
and as it drips
i grasp
for a hand
which doesn't exist
i believe in
love at first sight
because it's the only love
my lonely eyes
can create
a big planet
full of people
and my hand
stays vacant
it's so hard
to say you've never
made contact
with another humans lips
in an unconditional
heartfelt
symbolic
embrace
why
is the only question
i can ask
that will never have an answer
and i have yet
to see a change in that
but i guess
it's for the best
because my weakness
takes over my confidence
and ruins it all
and so i lay
in the empty bed
hand outstretched
waiting
for
touch
love
acceptance
belonging
happines­s
sorry that this is so many lines. i just like writing that way.
Imran Islam Oct 2017
I'm lucky that I'm an Arab girl.
It's the darkness that, I'm a girl in this Arab community
Yes, it's my family and the local community.

Please, don't get me wrong
It’s the not really right traditions that chained us,
here in my family and community.
They all say we're open-minded,
But they're not, really no.
They all say, girls are not oppressed,
But they are.
They all say that no one infanticides girls anymore.
But it still happens, even if it's not literally.

We’re still being bullied here in the Arab community.
So that's why I'm going to say these bad things-

It's sad enough that I'm single,
I am unmarried, 39 years old!
I have no husband, no kids,
I'm not an Arab girl now, and I’m an Arab woman.

I have never seen the hunter lion in my jungle of sin.
I cannot even play with myself
Because I should keep saving my virginity
If I want to get married ever.
Truly I'm still a ******.

I know it’s a sin, a great sin!
But just I don’t like this backdated community,
these traditional rules and overrules
just belong to family pride.
Does it support our religion?
Even does it like civil society?

Truly, it’s not fair, it’s inequitable to me!
I want reality; I want to get free!
I want to be happy; I want fair!
I want the truth; I respect my religion.
That’s why I want my rights!

Marriage between cousins has been part of the culture
here in my society for centuries,
largely as a means of securing relationships between tribes
and preserving family wealth.
My parents are both first cousins.
Maybe I have to get married to a close relative.
Society expected it and it is still common here.

Nowadays, my family is allowed to get married from other families.
But here in my society has some family status
like these, Level-one to Level-five
Level-five cannot be married from level-one
or others in some families
Level-one can marry from level-one to three.
Level-three can marry from level- three to one.
But the level- four and five can marry from each other only.
It is like that from past family tradition not for wealth ****.

I am from level- three.
Some guys came to my parent but they’re not my family type
and some are not my level
I have some close relatives but they’re not good guys.
My parent doesn't like them.
That’s why I’m still single.

I got back from the supermarket and maybe I will go to the mountain tomorrow
Yeah my country becomes green in this mountain
But other gulf countries they hot very.
No, I can't drive, I will go with my father or my brothers.

I have had a relationship with an Arab guy
we had met each other at my university when I was 23.
We had been talking over the phone and a social media.
And it’s hidden from our families.
But he cheated on me,
He did not come to my parent,
and he didn't discuss about marriage.

Hell, he wanted to see my looks and something like ****.
That’s not good for my family and me. It’s unreligious.
If my parents knew, I would be wrong
maybe they will **** me with him.
Talking to someone is not allowed here
I can talk to only people who I know.

Some Arab girls are getting married British citizen
But depends on the girl’s family, will accept or not
and another thing is religion.
The girls were studying their only
No levels for them

I know a girl who has just completed high school.
She will go to England to study
and she is looking for someone to get marry…
Because she’s losing her virginity in 13.
Her parents know it all.
They don’t want to **** her.
Hell for her that close relative.

How I will be married and I am not a ******!
If I make love before married or do something like ****
Then my husband will tell me that I am not good
The community will talk about me
And my parents will not talk to me.
They will slap me
All bad things will happen to me
I will be neglected.
And I have to go back to my family

After all,
my family will **** me.
Other punishments also, like these
Not going out of the house
No phones
Not talking to people, friends
And relatives
Not even married in life.

I have to stay alone at home
And no one will talk to me if I am alive
Then I should go out of the house forever
Really, a girl lives alone after this bad thing,
Yeah, can do work, but It is impossible here.

I know Arab girls have to war in my first night
and their weapons are their virginity!
That’s why I’m still a ******.
Sigh, I’m about 39.
Just Culture Imagery of An Arab Community
Sorry, i put it.
Nitsua Asemed Jun 2017
Poems become tears,
When reality sinks in,
When Art brings despair,
And paintings become cries.
Dances become disgraces,
Songs pour out insecurities,
Genius bring forth controversy,
Boldness becomes cowardice,
Dreams make disasters,
And Death rules over Life,
When reality sinks in.

Reality, that is.
Reality.
Is that reality?

In sinks reality when
Life overrules Death, and
Disasters make dreams.
Cowardice becomes boldness,
Controversy forth bring genius,
Insecurities outpour songs,
Disgraces become dances,
Cries become paintings; and
Despair brings art when
In sinks reality; when
Tears become poems.
palindrome
Clio May 2014
The stage of human development
The process of advancing society
The culture of a race

Transforming ones personality
To embrace his new found spirituality

I say King, You say demon
I stand united, you stand alone
How did we get here?
A place where fashion overrules social unity
No one is allowed to oppose

Only statues go without clothes
Moulded, painted and erected
With pride hidden from the human eyes
A bizarre term from scholars
Something called obligation
Stealing our freedom
Ignoring our masters notion
Seeking pleasure

I search for exemption
Freedom from oppression
As they battle to end the revolution
Rules made, rules broken

Validation is what we needed
A hint of support, and we hit the road
Head high, smiles wide
We have achieved liberty
And the rest is history
Star(chilla) Stay Strong
Bookwizard9 Apr 2018
Here we are again.
This same question.
Why are you crying?
You ask me the question to know the answer.
Not to help.
Some days your curiosity overrules your empathy.
Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that maybe comfort could help?
No.
It probably hasn’t.

I cry because I can’t speak.
My words get caught in my throat until I have to swallow them down like every other thing I’ve ever felt.
Some days emotions feel like marks of an outcast.
Some days my sadness makes you angry.
Is it because you don’t know why?
Does it scare you?

I cry because of you sometimes.
Putting words in my mouth until you make me choke so much that I can’t try to make you understand.
It would never work anyhow. You wouldn’t listen.
“You’re just being argumentative”
“Just breathe”
“Tell me why”
“You’re fine”
“Clean yourself up”

I cry because the way you’ve become accustomed to my pain hurts me deeper than any petty cut caused by some insignificant thing.
I once told you that I thought I had depression.
You replied with “I know.”
You knew.
You.
Knew.
You didn’t help me find my way home.
You left me to drown in my own icy black waters.
I had to claw my way back out.
You just walked away.
I’m trying to understand why.
Was there a reason?

I cry because I don't deserve to.
I know I should be happy.
I know I should be okay.
Why am I falling when I should be flying?
There are people out there who won’t be eating today.
There are people who are mourning today.
There are people who lost everything today.
I am not those people.
Why am I crying today?

I cry sometimes.
Letting my insecurities and fears and anger out of their cages.
Letting the vultures peck away at me until I’m dry and empty.
Lowering myself back on to ground level.
Letting logic regain control of the ship as the storm settles.
Making a bit of room for laughter at the table.
Condensing the voluminous emotions into a simple conclusion that I can carry in my pocket for when I need it.
Why is that a bad thing?
Hey, I'm doing a slam poem contest at school, and I wrote three. Is this one the best? Please tell me in a comment if it is.
Kathryn Hallee Nov 2017
My hardest times have frozen me
Hardened my outermost shell
Inside it is cold, painful, lonely
The souls of my feet walk upon shards of ice
Ice much like shining glass
A step is to crumble, with each I lose more faith
More and more until,
Suddenly I can no longer walk, I crumble
Shaking, shivering, waiting
The minutes, moments pass without the slightest notion or sign
Not a trace of notice in their eyes
My own does not even notice the pain
I do not wish to move, standing still pains me less
So I stand and stare with nothing but anguish
Full of utmost hatred, despair, loneliness, cold
Not until then do I realize it is cold still
Time as frozen as the ends of my nerves
Nerves that will never function the same again
Hatred for myself overrules and I redress,
Solemnly limping to an unseen comfort
I am in the presence of warmth but still I tremble
Ruined, an outer shell cracked and crumbling
I must fall, I do not wish to be alone, I am scared
I am cold, I feel a most dreadful sorrow, I cannot stand
I fall, but now you fall with me
We collapse and let our tears melt the ice
Not forever will my loneliness last and we can crumble together
My heart thaws, my chills subside, and hypothermia fades
Luna Casablanca Feb 2015
It's not easy being out of the picture I stood in with all of you,
But It's easier than trying to fit in the group.
I didn't give up,
I took myself out of misery.
As I look back my pride overrules my anger.
There were so many times we came together,
I remember very little good.
the picture is now a group of skinny girls and young looking men posing so sexually and rudely.
I was the one taking the photos most of the time.
Though I learned when not to persist,
All I have to say to all of you is,
Thanks.
For absolutely nothing.
I can now call my friends friends.
And they are not the backstabbing type,
They are the fun loving type.
c May 2018
I saw a world I wished to enter
But
In an instant
Found myself steeped in similar breadth
Which is the life
I’ve always worn
Ever-roaming forward

There
In that place,
Where mere things do not make man and
Love overrules the rites of
Constriction--

I--
Wish to breathe in every ocean
To walk through every season,
To bellow low in my beastly ways
And feel no shame
For supposed sins that
Make up this race

A place so easy to come by
Night dream or
Mellowed waking thought;
A place further than all foreign places,
It glimmers

A world beneath the trivialities of
Soil and root
Where one becomes one
And forever truly rings true

--
c
Mark McIntosh Jan 2016
when the photos are packed
the end is nigh
when you don't want to think it
but you can't help that
the cell gets in
takes hold like cancer
i don't really mean that
you've been gentle
introducing me to all those people
who were kind but i never
expected that
i never knew you knew
what I was missing
the only piece of the puzzle
was how you fit things together
that shouldn't go there
and I type and I type
and the auto-delete never activated
so i can write more lines
and sniff a path through palms
and shrubs and other low bushes
we take the bread and confess
secrets no-one should know
and I'm still here
lighting another cigarette
that glows in the black
but says nothing of time
or paper that's worthy
but the need to be mean
to get back the money
overrules all else and shines
like a light in a fist
showing all the potential
I feel your removal
your fresh shoots in the tropical summer
your space for leftovers
the time to be quieter
Rivers Kay Jun 2015
I'm not the kind to hold onto the bad in a person
You can wrong me 43 times
and 1 good overrules them in my book...

I'm told that this isn't always good
but i don't see the issue with it...

Until she showed up

I feel all the wrongs she puts on me
and i hold on tight

Only one day to blow

I'm not looking forward to this day but it sure as Hell won't be a boring moment...

You'r so beautiful
shes such a *****
I love you
I ******* hate her

stab me in the back
I come back 9 times stronger...

You can be nice but i  know how you are
and i know you sharpen you'r knife well...
Kimberly Eyers Jan 2017
He's a hunter,
But comes when I call.
He was born in the wild.
He's wild still.
But he's always there
When my pain
Makes me wish for privacy.
His attachment
overrules, intrudes
just like his teeth  in my sleeve,
when he cannot
resist
the urge
to PLAY!
Kendall McCann Sep 2018
Dear friends, Sorry I can’t hang out
I’m too busy being emotional
Too busy numbing my feelings
Too busy stuck in this hole of self doubt

Sorry I can’t be enough for you
That I don’t want a ******* corporate job
That I don’t care about money or status
That I don’t wanna follow the path I was on

Sorry to myself
if I wind up like her
I just wanna find my purpose
Before it’s too late to know for sure

But I’m sorry if I become absent as your only light
i need to do what’s best for me
But Sometimes I don’t know what’s right

And I’m sorry that when you pass
I wasn’t there to take the same care
Cause you were like my parents but now I’m not even there

And I’m sorry that I broke your heart
That I still think about you every day
But I think it’s probably out of spite
Although I hope you are ok

I wonder how you’re doing I really hope life is swell
I’m sorry I haven’t been there to wish you well
Or tell you goodnight at the end of every day
But that’s really not my problem and that’s all I have to say



I don’t know why people say sorry so much
Too apologetic cause we are really not
And maybe we have sympathy which doesn’t mean a lot
When apathy overrules the empathetic thoughts
Emeka Mokeme Jul 2017
The sign of promise made,
Appear first in the morning sky.
The Rainbow smiling down at me,
While it is still drizzling,
With a flicker of the morning sun,
While Saturn sits watching and smiling.
The abstinence about to end,
My heart desire has been answered.
With this assurance,
I know it can only get better.
The cosmic law fulfills all things,
above and below,
mundane and spiritual.
The struggle is now settled,
peace now reigns,
supremacy of the Almighty is here.
His power overrules all existing powers.
The rainbow smiling  down at me,
as I look up under the drizzling rain,
with the subtle morning sun as a witness.
Behold the Rainbow.
© 2017, Emeka Mokeme.All rights reserved.
Perhaps it's in the echo of each note,
Or the ring of each resonant chord,
Or the pulse of the soul of a song,
That which draws me in,
Captures all my mind,
Leaves me with no choice but to,
Reach out and let my hands,
Add their tune,
To the song in my head.

Sometimes all the right keys are played,
But I stop anyway,
As the right way clashes with,
The melody in my head,
Which is wrong,
Yet overrules the right.

And in my mind I hear,
The potential of symphonic,
Decoration on the framework,
Of a black and white,
Photograph of my emotion,
Which could be so much more,
Radiant with bursts and fades,
Of harmonic colours.

Music haunts me as,
Both a guardian and,
A curse.
AS- Mar 2021
The primal nature of the ****** desire
Overrules logic and rationality
Infusing man with an urge
That cannot be separated
Like a teabag in hot water
Spilling its contents into the surroundings
Intoxicating the clear thought completely
A mad drunken state has overcome me
I must fulfill the desire

— The End —