"personifies" poems
They say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder
But sometimes I ask myself, how can this be?
Cause when I look with my eyes, I only start to feel resent
and I begin to despise, the things I realize like
how my women of color have been simplified, and hypserxualized
how the black woman's body has been used and abused and now
It personifies, sexuality and promiscuity, out of all the things media feeds us these are some of the worst lies
You see cause black women are queens, and when white culture saw their worth, they were rattled
They couldn't help but try to minimize and de-legitimize, and put a guise over the eyes of all that viewed her
She is not just a big *** big lips or hips
She is the mother of humanity, in her essence from her hair, to lips to her fingertips she is a Queen, and she is to be respected.
And I will die for her honor, We will not go back into slavery days, I will not stand here while she gets up on stage naked and her body is dissected, and her soul, her essence neglected, her heart, her mind infected.
From these queens come the workers, the Kings, without the black woman we have no past and we have no future
We must protect the black woman, for she is sacred like scripture.
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 3:51 PM UTC
It lives in Him breathes in his vitals,
Personifies him and nets out of his veins lethargy,
It dampens what his heart has in offer,
It lays in him waste,
a bewitched rower to this boat,
Who has yet to learn to stay afloat,
His obfuscations lead him sober,
His blind eye dictates his horror,
A pearl beyond imagination he has yet to attain,
To proclaim his name with no distain.
Jun 27, 2025
Jun 27, 2025 at 11:14 PM UTC
Somehow I scrounge through these jumbled words in my notebooks and I piece together this puzzle.
When connected it forms some idea of who I am - my brain... my heart...
it personifies my existence, so to speak.
Although, like all puzzles even when put together as a whole to form a landscape or object,
the cracks from the pieces are still present...
Now, from afar people wouldn't notice these cracks -
these blemishes in the photo,
but like a collage when up close, it becomes more evident -
the imperfections become more radiant or profound...
The glue so to speak for this picture of words - this illustration of life would be -
it is those cracks, those blemishes that make a puzzle - a puzzle... and a person - a person.
Each individual, as everyone knows, has different life experiences, different scars to form different pieces to make up their own unique puzzle.
One piece may be interpreted through skills or hobbies and another with goals.
Each and every second of a persons' life could ultimately be a piece of a puzzle.
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 8:56 PM UTC
It’s All Hallow’s Eve and there’s little sound,
Except for a few goblins dancing around,
An old witch creates another evil spell,
Summoning demons from down in Hell.
The old hag stirs her boiling stew,
Adds eye of a newt, and another shrew,
The cauldron bubbles over the roaring fire,
The smoke rising up, higher and higher.
A black cat watches and suddenly screams,
It’s enough to haunt anyone’s dreams,
The old woman smiles an evil grin,
Her wart covered face personifies sin.
Looking around the spooky room,
Perched in the corner is a wooden broom,
Later she’ll get on it, and will take flight,
As she rides off on All Hallow’s Night.
Somewhere another victim will await,
Helpless to control their coming fate,
Another body that will soon be cold,
Another life that will never grow old.
Just another night’s work for an evil crone,
It’s what you do when you’re bad to the bone,
For another year, she will take leave,
And be back again next All Hallow’s Eve.
11-01-14.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 3:04 AM UTC
My job I really don’t mind,
It’s the people and the work,
Especially the guy next to me,
Who personifies the word ****
I wish he would do something,
Anything to earn his pay,
Instead he just gets on my nerves,
And my nerves are starting to fray.
This **** is looking for a better job,
And keeps asking me for advice,
Do I look like a Google search bar?
But instead I just try to be nice.
He actually asked me for a referral,
And I looked at him just fine,
I’d like to give him a referral alright,
To the unemployment line.
This ***** better start to realize,
And I hope he does somehow,
That the next job he’ll be applying for,
May be the one he’s holding now.
02-04-11.
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 7:37 PM UTC
Death affirms and is the term of life;
flesh and firmness, egg and ***** the means.
Breath interred within a Word and light,
deftly perched perpetually in-between:
born to discontinuous distraction,
borne through a contemptuous nadir;
but in a moment, all's destroyed,
and in the black and empty of the void,
a helix (and a hollow core) appears.
Baphomet the emblem of Its power,
sacrament the reverence revealing
devilment to Wisdom yet to flower,
absent comprehension of Its meaning.
Pan personifies the All unbounded,
flouts the misconceptions of the seeing:
Hermes the unmaskèd death,
Aphrodite's basking cleft,
the androgyne transcends within its being.
O - not called "the little death" in jest,
Gnosis vaunted in the ebb of Lust,
though is Not, the know'r of Life and Death:
know that All It Is is what thou Wast,
Its continuity the end thou seekest
in contemplation, *** and wist for death:
Thanatos, eternal sleep,
Eros, infinitely deep,
Generation poised to manifest.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 12:47 AM UTC
The down of the gown of the dawn of some gone day,
A ray day that has downed and dawned at sunset,
They have diabolically colonized our divine state,
Belligerently gang ****** our stupendous democracy at will,
The demonic bloodthirsty ********* barbarians,
Declaring a violent war which no one wants to fight,
A losing warring war of one against all.
Impetuously slaughtering our defenseless defenders at will,
Turning the blue-clad fierce hunters to the fierce hunted,
The hunted that are being haunted,
Hounded and hunted by the hunted,
Converting every corner into the hunters’ hunted ground,
The church and the charge office,
The home and the street,
The here and the there.
Who will protect our “toy gun” wielding protectors,
Protect our trigger-shy protectors from the cunning detractors,
As one by one they are won one by one,
One by one by the one that is supposed to be won,
The defenders of our slate state,
The defenders of our democratic democracy,
The defenseless defenders of the defenseless.
They have been plunged under siege,
As every one of them personifies some certain demise,
Every one of them is just some subterfuge death in waiting,
Some truculent death just waiting to happen,
Bust, rust and dust in the waiting,
Stylistically stylistic starving yawning mobile graves,
Prey of their own prey,
The ultimate fray prey.
As day in day out they live the life of a cigarette,
On one side they are smoking,
On the other, they are being smoked,
Any attempt to fight back is regarded criminal of the worst order,
Police brutality,
We forsake them, they forsake them, the law forsakes them,
Who will defend the mighty defenders?
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 6:29 AM UTC
her beauty personifies the perfection
of a chaos theory hard at work
a gentle flapping of her eyelashes
could effect my entire Earth.
Send a tornado through my heartbeat
of a nuclear winter through my veins
an earthquake across all muscles
and a power outage in my brain.
She could reinvent my humanity
with the humility in her eyes
there's no way I could love her more
no matter which & what way I may try.
My skin bumps in goose flesh
in response to her next breath
it lets the tide return to sea
and rejuvenate her depths.
Her currents intersect like neurons
that fire rapid, nerve to ending
conduct the idea before the thought
no worry of a moments pending
on the fringe of "not to be."
What’s the next effect she'll be sending?
if she thinks a single thought of chaos
it could mean the worlds ending.
Nov 29, 2010
Nov 29, 2010 at 9:41 PM UTC
Isn't it nice to rhyme
When words strike as divine
Made to fit the part
Unlike free verse aristofarts
Who would **** your mother
Like beatnik Stepbrother
And sleep through their clocks
For nocturnal jabberwocks
If ever was a Good man.
Benny swung with the times, man.
But Jazz rolled from the hits
Of white British misfits.
When South Bronx fell through crack
The sky and hood went black
Poets sold missing car parts
For Busta Rhymes to bust a start.
Poetry had to lose an art.
Rhyming tossed like the ****
Who ****** Lord Tennyson's ****
Which tugged at Victoria's smock.
It's easy to criticize
An age demystified
But now personifies
Poetry commercialized
And the old aging misfit
Tries to gather the spit
With a mouth so dry.
But not a poet in the sky
Will sanction the crime
To help his verse opine
Against the words-of-a-kind
That English bespoke to rhyme.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 2:20 AM UTC
There are certain things you hear in the peak of night moments
the creak of a swing set as snow falls in pools of still around you
her eyes crinkling from the in to the outside when she smiles
crisp as the wind biting your lips
so you step towards her
tucking strands of hair behind her ears and under her cap
leaning towards those fragile wanting eyes
and tilting her head back
kissing more than a smile
but a someone who personifies the meaning of art
creating scenes of meaning in the city scapes where we rest our hearts
in the pockets of a secret places where forest splits the sky
I've repeatedly fell in love with this girl
this girl with art in her glittering eyes.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC
Americans live with fear.
Fear of being found out for what they are….an incredibly insecure people populating the most powerful nation on earth.
The power of Wall St. feeds their fear in the belief that the nation’s leaders and political machine have been bought and sold by big money.
In fact the only candidates registering positively in the current Primary elections are those who feed the fear. Trump feeds the fear every time he opens his big mouth.
Hillary engenders fear because she is a WOMAN who can, most probably, win the votes which will give her the Presidency in November next.
Americans fear the resurgence of Asia in China’s burgeoning thermonuclear militarist stance, the utter unpredictability of the simmering, India, Pakistan standoff
And the instability of the plump, demonic, demagogue armed with the atomic weaponry in the bleak wasteland that is North Korea.
Islam’s mobilisation scares Americans witless. The savagery of the Isis personifies all that is promised by an expanding worldwide Islamic threat.
And then there is Putin's Russia.
The encapsulation of American fear though, is painted graphically, starkly, by the nation’s absurd fascination, obsession, with the hand gun.
Everyone has a hand gun, in the car, in the office, in the mall, in the bedroom…..some even strap a hand gun on the hip to go to church.
Americans, first and foremost, fear each other.
Fear of the fear exacerbated by more fear.
Americans live with fear.
M.
Auckland NZ
13 February 2016
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
As John put it
The incarnated word,
Saint Mary was entitled
To feed Her *******
And Hold, but whom
Juda the culprit
For 30 birr sold
Is almighty God.(John 1:1John 1:12.John 8:58)
Here it should pop up
To your attention
"God is with you!"
Saint Gabriel's to
The Immaculate felicitation.
So God,
Christ is a presiding judge
An inch do not budge
Hearing shallow teachings
Quite strange
Christ killers-turned
-Christ-peddlers on many
A religious forum stage.
As Canaan, awaits
Them a curse
For trying to belittle Christ
Intent to line up their purse.
On the cross
It was the incarnated word
That allowed the repentant
Shieftan on his right
The first greenlight
To heaven of course.
Witnessing
His sons'
Polar opposite deeds
Noah better felt
The visitation of God
In Shem's tent.(Genesis 9:18-27)
Hence God's incarnation
That still reflect
Are entitled
Membership to the tent,
Which personifies
Saint Mary
The immaculate.
Thus, as the
Chosen generation
True to
Saint Mary's prophesy
Let us echo "The Graceful
And the immaculate!"
Evading Satan's
Yet another bait.
Jun 13, 2020
Jun 13, 2020 at 8:27 AM UTC
She wears her in many different styles and likes short dresses. She wears bright colors in clothing and makeup. She is full of sass and laughter. She likes to make a splash with her wit and her smile. She gets attention where ever she goes, but is never dull or boring. She offers a warm hand and support to any friend in need. She personifies the confidences that her parents taught her, all the while exuding *** appeal. She loves to wear heels as often as she can, she loves to know she was watched as she walks by. She will wink an blow you a kiss if you are luck. She will leave you speechless if you catch her eye.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 4:05 PM UTC
Do not talk to me of your version of God
One that personifies God by egoistic mind
For ego by definition is Exit God Out
For your personification of God
Does not resonate with my knowing of God
The hell you believe I will burn in
Is the heaven I will transmute all my sins in
The hell you believe I live in
Is my route to heaven
The hell you believe in
Will drawn you in an ocean
Of guilt and shame
Keep your fears to yourself
I can no longer entertain them
Do not talk to me of God
When you want me to silence my soul
God can never be silenced by your egoistic minds
Let me redefine for you ‘كفر’ *
Let me redefine for you ‘blasphemy’
It is being a slave to your ideas
It is being a slave to your mind
It is being a slave to your concepts
It is being a slave to your fears
I am not here to be a slave to human minds
I am here to be a slave to my creator
His breath gave life to my body
I am not here to worship your fearful mind
I am here to worship my creator through my heart
Do not talk to me of God
When you refuse me the right
To exercise my divine gifts
Do not talk to me of God
When you rob me from free will
Divinely gifted to me at birth
Do not talk to me of God
When you rob me from exercising
The gift of freely speaking my mind
Do not talk to me of God
When you forbid me from listening to my heart
Yet forcefully enslave me to your mind
Do not talk to me of God
When you fail to accept me
Do not talk to me of God
When you vilify my shadows
Do not talk to me of God
When you fail to see my divinity
Do not talk to me of God
When you deprive me
From the experience to witness
The limitless capacity of my body
Do not talk to me of God
When you reject parts of me
Yet God accepts all of me
Do not talk to me of God
When you fail to forgive me
While God offers me eternal forgiveness
Do not talk to me of God
When you abandon your son after he sins
For the God I know
Will never forsake his son
Nor shame him for his sins
Nor will he love him less
For the sins he does is the forgetting of self
When one acts against his self
Do not talk to me of God
When you fail to embody his love
For you have yet to know God
If you still refuse to embody his divine qualities
Do not talk to me of God
Till you reflect his unconditional love, grace, mercy, forgiveness and acceptance
Do not talk to me of God
When you sexualize my body that he has created
Do not talk to me of God
When you shame my body
For the sacred red fluid that flows out of me
The body that gives birth to his creation
Do not talk to me of God
When you separate me
From divine creations
Do not talk to me of God
When you justify killing
Yet vilify love making
Do not talk to me of God
When you normalise violence upon his creations
Yet shame the pleasures of love between his creations
We will not be silenced
By the barbaric volumes of your egoistic minds
Our divinity can never be a slave to your fears
You can not fears us into enslavement
Our divine faith runs deeper than the fears that hijacks your minds
Let us love each other
While we both try to experience God
Let us love each other
While we both try to understand God
Meanwhile I swim in the ocean of grace where hell does not exist
Thank you for being here - NwK
Oct 5, 2024
Oct 5, 2024 at 10:15 AM UTC
It is with an emptiness in my throat,
a riptide in my stomach,
and needles in my heart
that I write this today.
I fear you might find out,
I fear you might realise,
I fear you might explode,
and I am terrified that you will leave.
If you happen to chance across this,
while actualising your thoughts into words.
Feelings and emotions I wished you share with me,
that you so easily convey to a machine.
If you could see through my eyes,
you would never feel insufficient again.
And so I beseech God to rid my mind of you;
a mind that is welcomingly plagued by your presence.
A mind that personifies hypocrisy;
as I read your writings about a boy,
wishing they were about me
but they are not.
And yet I still keep going back.
Hoping to find my name in your words one day.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 8:09 AM UTC
On the glowing American horizon,
Dawns a new era of hope and communion.
Obama, the leader America was waiting for,
Emerges from the masses, a rising star.
Breaking the barriers of religion and race,
Obama smiles, with confidence and grace,
"Change has come to America" he declares!
Recalls Lincoln, Kennedy and Dr.King,
As millions of Americans dance and sing.
Elegant orator, par excellence,
Promises equality, justice and strong defence,
And measures to crush agents of violence,
Defeat terrorists and their evil designs;
Shares India's desire to isolate centres of crime.
Facing challenging tasks at this crucial time -
Violent conflicts, failing Banks and economic trends,
He seeks the goodwill and support of all nations,
Treating them as partners and trusted friends.
'OBAMA' now personifies "YES, WE CAN" -
Our youthful world's best slogan!
Now is the time for all statesmen to join hands
And say "YES, WE WILL" and hail the brave new icon!
**** **** **** Narasimha Murthy, M.G.
Hyderabad, India. [email protected]
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 9:10 AM UTC
To the woman who is my best friend
Who has always had my back
Even when we don’t get along;
To the woman who always knows what I need
Who is always by my side
Through the good times and the bad;
To the woman who will never let me down
Who fights for me
Because what’s best for me is what’s best for her;
To the woman who shows me how to live right
Who showed me what the world has to offer
And that all I have to do is make it mine;
To the woman who brought me into this world
Who taught me right from wrong
Always having more to show the world;
To the woman who is my mother
Who personifies all that comes with that word
Loving, caring, kind, beautiful, teacher, and everything else;
Happy Mother’s Day
I Love You and would never change what we’ve gone through
You’ve made me into who I am today
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 3:18 PM UTC
Intense loneliness
personifies itself
before inanimate walls
With a variety of
empathetic characters
to populate the room
Weaving and performing
an anxious dance
of justifications
For never permitting
vulnerability
to be exposed.
- fr
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 2:14 AM UTC
the backs of my eyelids are kaleidescopes-
blender-mixtures of the crinkles of your nose-bridge,
panic attack lullibies,
and waterfall tear-ducts,
the scent of mixture so ripe with potential that love personifies itself
as unlimited clean water in Flint.
in your indefinite (permanent) absence,
it is a sensation not painfully unsterile as a homemade tattoo,
but not quite as pragmatically satiable as a common itch.
it's
hiccups at the podium,
sore legs moving into a third floor apartment,
a fender-bender in the sweltering seduction of summer.
------------------------------
your hemorrhage-generating image is a permanent stain that blends in just well enough to wear.
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 11:18 PM UTC
My Dream
I dream of a significant other
to love me with pure love,
dedication and compassion.
A relationship
that personifies the definition of love
breaking all barriers.
Requirements:
Like the deep love of Neo and Trinity in Matrex
or Armageddon’s couple, Grace and A.J.
Like Romeo and Juliet's passionate love connection.
Better yet... the love my parents had
that lasted 56 years (of ages 94 and 90)
Who, cultivated a field of divine roses,
for me to see and value.
StarBG © 2017
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 4:12 PM UTC
Bonny your history is beautiful
Flow through impasses of any barriers to my breast.
Urgency sirens.
Failing to keep the gates barred, promises underwent submission in the palms of our fate.
Supply my heart substance
Open my channels wide and distort perspective.
Paradise plus bonny personifies perfect bliss
Placing black sand bountifully and preciously beneath our pods.
My prowess only detects your soul in a crowd of millions-----In the midst of a troubling storm
I stand firm in front of you committed to the history.
The discrete freckles appear after humility spoke a carefree moment when I knew you loved more.
We hope
I will not depart.
Keys to completeness, if I default on a real attempt
Accept my apology
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 9:00 AM UTC
watching the sunrise
surprise me in the evening
i can't evening; realize
potentially what personifies
you or your taste
upbeat and outpaced
we meet and i faced
just 5 feet
google street-
view i felt at home
then i knew i yearn to roam
outside of pixels confined
his wide grin as if was designed
to remind me
love will find me
***
can't can't can't
important out
conformist rant
erased wry pant
replaced i grant
we chased, we chant
prefaced, we shan't
displace on slant
onslought instant
distraught recant
enchant wrought on
our rotten re-plant of
an antic talking frantic
infrared entranced romantic
instead transcended semantic
exalted assaulted tantric
talk sick
balk pick
stalk trick
**** quick
lock click
shock strik
flock thick
block brick
rock stick
walk kick
stall tick
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 1:59 AM UTC
We live,
We suffer long enough
To die,
Ask a man , old,
Older than those streets,
Who moulds memories in the footpath
Of misery,
1 or a million die in his existence
Still he lives,
He lives In those ashes n graves
And questions,
Is he a boon or so unloved to be betrayed by death,
His bones tremble n crack,
Lifting weight of dead
Dead that were ones alive
To make him stop question
That why he lives,
Now as he narrows down
His vision to embrace,
He personifies
His desperation to die,
Be it the scarf or the pen,
Or Rotting in the fen,
Or bathing in the acid,
Or not so happy ig placid,
Be it the snakes or the worms,
Or leaches in their throngs,
Devouring his curse,
As he crumble down his purse,
He whisper to his lady,
Who lives in her arcady,
They will cross their paths aboon,
As he still thinks,
He will get his death so soon.
Jan 16, 2025
Jan 16, 2025 at 12:45 PM UTC
I dream of a significant other
to love me with pure love,
dedication and compassion.
A relationship
that personifies the definition of love
breaking all barriers.
Requirements:
Like the deep love of Neo and Trinity in Matrex
or Armageddon’s Grace and A.J.
Or Romeo and Juliet's passionate love connection.
No, better yet... the love my parents had
that lasted 56 years (ages 94 and 90)
Who, cultivated a field of divine roses,
for me to see and value.
StarBG © 2017
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 5:05 PM UTC
A cluster of engraved birches
personifies a love of old,
upon sequins – Eros perches
bowing echoes 'long the wold.
Sweeten dew of noble rain
debris not – the emblem crust
nor bird of plumage stain
the hearted sketch of trust.
Nimble scouts of chirping worth
cavort and tune a number
wrought the song of her ole mirth
upon the sleek n' lumber.
Spectres - Illume of gold
stipple maps the spine
each bark n' rip that holed
glistens that was mine
Shrubbery - melodious swaying
curious tips like many eyes
as though my love were playing
and I - was in her guise.
Amorous whispers breeze;
she lingers not 'neath the burrow
but bristles with the trees,
in rooted limbs that furrow.
Wonder if - by the brook
the hustle, still she graze
of gentled hand n' took
and swept my ardent daze.
When aboard and ponder
I drift back to amber birches
there in idle wonder
bequeaths - my soulful searches.
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 1:25 PM UTC