"percieves" poems
Many people always say
that they're okay
hoping we wouldn't believe
so don't be too naìve.
She needs your help
always feels bad about herself
she thinks she's worthless
never has true happiness
Everyone has a mask they put on
As believable as the rising sun
doing everything to conceal
most of what they really feel
until life becomes a living masquerade
feelings being hidden in the shade
See this is what I mean,
People aren't always as they seem.
Blissful on the outside,
but broken inside.
He needs you to realize,
when he says he's fine, it's a lie.
Learning to read him is key
to see beneath what the human eye percieves.
All he needs
is someone who can say, "You're good enough for me."
We use masks to hide it all
but someday, one could fall.
To prevent that, there's a lot you could do.
Make them feel special to you.
Everyday a living masquerade;
an abundance of hiding the pain.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 5:27 AM UTC
The place
Where body
Meets the ground
Furthest from the place
Consciousness percieves
The things around
Matter under my feet
Where you find me
I am never bound
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
I've been teaching people
how to be poets.
Now, even to me,
this sounds like canned ********
But I believe that there is more to it.
It sounds so elitist to think
that you were just born with poetry
in your heart and mind.
That it could ever be so hard to find
inner meaning where there is none.
Even love is an illusion
the same way color never existed
outside the eye,
your beauty never existed
outside my heart.
Now before I start,
let me go back to square one.
I find it hard to believe that someone
can't be something just because... they aren't.
Poetry, like all art, is a skill
and like all art, you don't need to be good.
No-one is judging your art
unless you ask them to
and if it ends up in front of their face,
you've asked.
It's a skill, you get better and worse,
good days and bad days,
but some people just need to realize
what poetry really, really is.
It's not about rhyming, or even sounding good.
It's about meaning.
What's the deal with this flower?
This flower is art.
It's a piece of chlorophyll, who cares?
Because the flower is beautiful.
What makes the flower beautiful?
*Because I choose to believe that this flower is more
than what my eye percieves.*
Boy, this art **** sounds like
a bunch of crap.
It really is.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
In the darkness of the night we were designed to be as bright as The stars spread across the spacious skies of Twilight.
Never knowing that from the outside we shined.
Our expressions mirrors our thoughts weather it be divine or unkind.
I guess thats why they say The face is the window into the mind.
And The eyes are the pathway to the soul
Playing the most influential role
Filtering what our vision percieves because it affects us as whole.
It has the power to control the thoughts flowing through our menatal.
Now I understand why its impoartant to look beyond the physical,
Its too seek what truth lies within realms of the spiritual.
As I Let my words be like water and flow from my lips as i give my confessional
I begun to get emotional
Because I went from Fighting battles Just as Joshua did in Jericho
To Being surrounded by a devasting tornado
Only to coming out on the other side and being Just as glorious as a rainbow.
While The Most High Sculpts and paints my portrait of life better Than any famous artifacts crafted my MichealAngelo.
Or Even more creativie and colorful than any painting by vincent van gogh.
And more Illustration then what is depicted in the Last Supper by Leonardo.
Builted with Empathy, curiousity and strong willed like children of Indigo.
I am a Specially made Individual.
Made in his image therefore I am beautiful.
No longer am I a Embryo, I have been birthed from the womb in the spiritual.
Like A Sunflower flourishing from the seed that was planted in the meadow, I grow.
As I stay under my Savior's teaching, learning and applying what I know.
His Love and blessings are as Rivers that overflow.
The Holy spirit illuminates my body lighting a fire in the pit of soul as it ignites a fluorescence light to glow.
Awaken My sleeping soul.
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 4:01 PM UTC
Look at poor Alex slumped on the floor.
Preoccupied with her own inferiority, talking to Bob to try to escape the life she hates.
Her incoherent mutterings co-mingle with her dribbling drool.
Poor, poor Alex living in the shadow of everything she thinks was stolen from her.
Alex has learned to cope through the haze of chemicals and denial as she percieves those flames of hell licking at her to be the warm sun.
Poor, poor Alex.
Always wishing there was something more.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 5:10 PM UTC
Behind all closed doors,
there are some open spaces,
Behind all Happy souls,
There are some sad faces.
Behind all eyes,
Is a story, it visually narrates.
Behind all worries and strifes,
There's a wierd, soothing solace.
Behind silence,
There's always a loud voice, that whispers, percieves and waits.
Behind all Smiles,
Is a mysterious story, with words at stake.
Behind all lies,
There's truth, that knows no haste
Behind this rapid,
lively, yet lifeless life,
There still a life, that knows patience viz never a waste!
Behind us beings,
There's a something,
There's an energy,
An eternal someone,
Watching, gazing, beholding,
At what it has made,
And still makes,
Knowing, hoping, percieving
That it will once realise
Life's always about good choices,
Good efforts, Good companions, Good thoughts and great tastes!
Behind us masked people,
There's a Godly sage.
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 1:06 AM UTC