There is pain
Confusing
Anger
The world
Can be messy
Sometimes
It can seem
Like the world
Has gone crazy
Its easy to focus on
All the things
That are going
Wrong
Living pessimistically
Instead of looking
Seeing all
The beauty
That is all
Around us
We live in
A beautiful world
Even as far
As things have gotten
We still live
In a beautiful place
Even as crazy as thing
Might seem
There are still people
Who are living
And showing people
What love really means
There are still people
Helping people heal
Showing people kindness
Grace
Mercy
Showing people
How to love
One heart
At a time
There is still
Healing
We are never
Too far away
To receive it
We just have to
Start looking
And finding the beauty
Instead of always
Seeing the negative
Living pessimistically
And start seeing
Things
In a different way

Only when efforts are taken
Defeats can be easily broken

When mind suffers from fear
It opens the gate for tear

By indulging in self-pity
We may blunder in duty

When we are too much afraid
We lose even from God aid

God wants us to be brave
Then only He can save

Boldly enter into the bout
Let hope finely sprout out

Just by making up mind
A way one can surely find

Honest efforts fetch glory
Hard-work brings victory

Never think pessimistically
Ponder over practically

It is very easy to soon retreat
But, success refuses its treat

Courageous steps achieve
So a bold plan, try to weave

mvvenkataraman

SEARCH mvvenkataraman IN GOOGLE OR YAHOO

Kindness is the soapy bubble that will not burst
The petal that remains glued to the emerald stalk
The ray of sunshine that peeps through the holes in the dust covered blinds
The last glucose induced jelly sweet in the crumpled packet
The man who moves side ways to allow you to walk around the unquestionably deep puddle

Wait.
Now I am talking about acts of kindness,
which is something rather different.
Something rather sparse in this age that we inhabit.

A wise man once told me not to focus on the negative aspects of life,
but rather to dwell on the good things.
'Easier said than done', I pessimistically replied.
'God what a miserable old cow', he must have thought.  
Since being in this place,
this new, vibrant, alive city
the one with the twelve different smiles,
where language is not a barrier between people
where they help each other for the sake of kindness.
For the sake of their religion, their god, their consciences.

Ultimately that is what conscience is, and where it comes from.
From within, from the conscience.
Kindness is an act of will. Of love through us. Put into action by our brains.
Irrespective of logic, rationale, or any other morality.
To be kind, is to respect another's wishes and position in society.

To see them as another human being with feeling and emotion.
With the ability to return your kindness or reject it.

In sunshine's glow,
we wear a smile,  
yet deep inside,
we feel the trial.
The weight of hope
can feel so grand,  
but woes can linger,
close at hand.
With every cheer,
loiters niggling doubt,  
can happiness withstand
what life is about?
To be the light,
yet fear the strain,  
When the bright facade
can crack and fray.
Beneath the mask,
a heart may strain,  
for constant joy  
can feel like pain.  

©️Lizzie Bevis

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.

i did one stint from one "village" to another,
Ostrowiec was the reds' heartbeat
of communist innovation, steelworks you name it,
army contracts,
that was sodomised in the tipping submergence
of Titanic... i did a stint in a capital,
Edinburgh,
most of my contemporaries didn't venture
as far, closer to home, closer to the bread
and the washing-machine -
now they're living prolonged middle-class
lives (apologies for the Marxist
auxiliary vocabulary - i see a future in you
in the orbit of canonised journalism
worthy of a Hendrix comet - gush gone
the next type) - of course the first Gurkha sentiments
are the ones teaching us that Europe is
the holy grail - it's actually a ****-hole with
quiet a few people actually insane...
who are given representative power
via democracy, with democracy constituents
aimed at 30% representation,
a third! a third! imagine chimpanzees voting
as if they were getting arrested:
micro the universe with ink blotches on
the thumbs and the question:
'who bent the bananas?! who bent the bananas?!
we had a joke you ruined it
a banana in the pocket... who bent the bananas
from Pythagoras to Euclid? who?!'
30% turnout when once 100% fought,
whether stonemason or farmer -
if this is democracy i'm not really pessimistically
pensive over an attack on autocracy by it,
but still warring in places like Vietnam will
not make democracy the conqueror,
sometimes natural communism works
if it's structured on a tribal level, i.e.
'you scratch my back i'll scratch yours',
tribal levelling is a case for a dishonesty concerning
money, nails can't be hammers with money present,
the time it takes is the economic prowess of
the elitist democratic function,
quasi-religious meaning
why would nihilism's testimony first craft moral
questions rather than economic questions
to gain approval and the audience of artists' revenue
for even asking?
hey headlines! everything else is optional!
as i said, from one village to another,
a momentary stint in capital Edinburgh and London,
in London i was asked to be crucified -
21st century England, one student said i should
be crucified because i was not supporting Palestine
while enjoying some student theatre...
in Edinburgh i don't know...
i asked for the position of the film society's vice
president role and never made it to the platform
of speaking to intro a film...
but a student telling a student he'd be crucified,
in england, war of the roses rekindled?,
it was too much much for me...
education can grow goosebumps and comb-overs
should i care... idiots educate themselves
these days, Birmingham nearby (no river, no flow),
crucify all you want -
          this is England, half-way house of Syria...
the famous 21st century not so famous now -
Zionist plots to submerge - what the **** can be
deemed as political and correct? Henry the 8th?

Necessities
Pessimistically
Things keeping me alive

Necessities
Optimistically
Things keeping me going

Necessities
Optimistically and Pessimistically
You

Things keeping me alive and going
You

Things that make me see beauty
You

Things that keep me sane
You

Things that make me feel bad for using the word things
You.

Person I always think about before I go to sleep
You

Person I miss the most
You

I feel like I should write today,
But I lack my confidence ,not that I’m shy,
But because you never believe in me,
Never even gave me a pen or a paper,
Never gave me a chance to pour my feelings,saying that poets are weak,

And I will write,
Of how sad it is to live as a poet,
Of how it is hard for a poet to express himself through his tongue,
Of how it is hard for a poet to relate with others through his mouth,
Of how a poet has to suffer in silence just because of his courage,
Of how a poet lacks the love of a spouse because no one loves to read,


Or maybe I should write
Of how HUMANS despise poets, saying that they are weak,
Of how HUMANS hate poets,saying that poets only see the dark side,
Of how HUMANS pessimistically criticize poets ,saying that poets lack emotion
Of how HUMANS dump poets,saying that poets carry bad omen
Of how HUMANS misuse poets,saying the world is for the strong


Or maybe I should write about me,
Of how being a poet can make you feel as an OUTCAST,
Of how being a poet can make you lack friends because you are a lone walker,
Of how being a poet can push you to die with loneliness inside,


Or maybe I should have never written

~RUSSELL~

Dear John,

Life is lived in the singular---we should know what we want
and what to reject/avoid. We are alone, ever alone--not in existential angst but cannot escape the onslaught of destiny, life's suffering
and, also to some extent, the malice of the world. We adapt and we accept--the journey and meaning or lack of meaning is ours--ours alone.  Happiness is subjective and definable only by our own self-
we never need to envy or copy others'. Some trust we must have in others, but excessive could be ruinous--this is confirmed by my past experience.

I am the cynic you have discovered but it's also healthy and makes me stronger-but I don't think I am a misanthrope. We don't belong to others but to our self, in the last analysis.

Am I happy? Yes, in an over-average measure--cynicism doesn't destroy happiness--it's a survival tool.

You said I was a pessimist--yes, I am but pessimistic people can also find their peace of mind and happiness as the optimists. We are all different and choose the path that bests suits us.

I am truly surprised that I have more friends and acquaintances than I could count despite the person I am and the way I manifest myself in my contacts with others.  One should have friends or live in isolation and loneliness but has to choose wisely--true friendship
is hard to find and one who dares say so-and-so is MY BEST FRIEND runs a great risk as human nature is inherently selfish and often unforgiving.  I don't run away but am ever-circumspect.
Friendship, apart from sincerity and honesty, must have this basic
quality---CONSISTENCY--but how many of us, even with the will and intention, could succeed in this? Thus, I conclude: be a realist not an idealist.

Congratulations-
you are an optimist.  Continue to be so--be happy-celebrate life.

Yours pessimistically
P

My name is Cloud
I am shy
I am witty
I am lost
I am pessimistically optimistic
I am afraid of success
I am lonely most days
I am a failure in my own eyes
I am a brother to some
But I am a big brother to one
I am seeking forgiveness
I am seeking redemption
I am disgusted with myself most days
I am one who embraces failure because it’s all I’ve ever known
I am a gentle giant
I am one who loves to easily
I am one who trusts too easily
I am one who lacks forgiveness
I am one with patience
I am one who wishes to live honestly
I am one who refuses to harbor hatred
I am infatuated with martial arts
I am a fisherman
I am a *******
I am a hopeless romancer
I am  oblivious
I am overweight
I am not harsh with others but cruel to myself
I am passively killing myself
I am one who has broken trust
I am one who loves music
I am one who loves  film
I am one who appreciates artistic expression
I am one who is afraid to feel
I am one who wants to be the “Hero”
I am a big lipped *******
I am one who loves to make others laugh
I am one in the pursuit of happiness
I am one who places bonds above all else
I am one who should of died at birth
I am one who attempted suicide
I am one who survived
I am one who wants to know “why”
I am one with his head in the clouds
I am one who lives in my head
I am one who can never find the right words
I am the anti-hero
I am an animal lover
I am one who loves to read
I am a ******
I am awkward
I am opinionated
I am one who loves to have his opinions challenged
I am one who embraces change
I am a hypocrite and I hate it
I am an introvert
I am one who loves nature
I am one who has hope for the future
I am one  who lost hope for the present
I am one who finds it easier to live for others than for myself
I am one who wants to be better than I was yesterday
I am one who loves to travel
I am one who’s kindness is taken for weakness
I am a son and a grandson
I am a good listener
I am terrible at consoling people
I am the worlds best hug giver
I am one with no confidence
I am always misunderstood
I am impulsive
I am regretful
I am determined to never regret again
I am  trying to find my way
I am one who lived as neither human or ghost for a decade
I am not who you think I am
I am one who spent years trying to understand himself
Yet I am one who still understands nothing
Who am I ? What am I ? Am I human? Am I ghost?

The probabilities
He pessimistically took my jar, left me ajar
The attentive class left us with a decent professor
Often, hiding in books, and avoiding the seasons
My heart is an apocalypse, that tells me that Hell is where I am
Thre prodigious repleting the accidental lake, the isle on the Sun
The cloudy stars, and counting of the shooting stars
And the quills bloodied by the changing trapdoor, lurking behind
The gallows pole and the halo's gone, and the named nameless
Reinventing required him to be universally concomitant
When few people have imagination, really
And relativity of the realistic destiny, and the self-conscious of distasteful poetry
You can dream and you have begun, but, boldness has the imagination befuddled
Often the will left to the imagination can cultivate a passion
And your pursuits and your perception of me might leave with the reposing soul
The deposition of which is my lover's ordeal and steadfast strength
Low on pursuits, and mild on perceiving the highs and lows

A Poem By: Reece Ellison

Demons,
Everyone has them, hidden just behind their eyes,
And if you squint, you’ll find what they try to hide.
As the tears flow,
And their heart begins to open,
You’ll realize.
That part of being human,
Is suffering behind a smile.

Your head can tell you many things,
Not all of it is true,
But you’ll convince yourself,
That there’s nothing you can do.
Your mind can be your greatest friend,
Or your greatest foe,
A pain people can try to relate to,
But it’s one only you’ll truly know.

Pain,
Everybody has it, hidden just behind their eyes,
And if you squint, you’ll find what they try to hide.
As the tears start to flow,
And their heart begins to open,
You’ll realize,
That part of being human,
Is crying yourself to sleep at night.

Sometimes when you open up,
And you try to explain the abstraction of your pain,
People tend to take it,
Laugh at it,
Break it into pieces,
And wonder why you’re hurt.
People can be cruel,
They leech off of each other all the time,
Harm someone for the benefit of themselves,
Never understanding the other side of their actions.

Scars,
Everybody has them, hidden just behind their eyes,
And if you squint, you’ll find what they try to hide.
As the tears start flowing,
And their heart starts opening,
You’ll realize,
That part of being human,
Is masking anguish inside.

I think I have a wound deep down,
I don’t know where it is,
But I know it hurts.
I see things more pessimistically than I did a few years before.
Maybe that’s just cause I’m changing,
If so I wish it would’ve stayed the way it was before.
Sometimes I wonder if my presence changes a thing.
If I were gone, would it matter at all?
For a day, or a week, or a month, does it make a difference at all?
Perhaps that’s a stupid thought to wonder.
I’m no longer fooled when people try to act nice.
I see them for what they are,
A wolf in sheep’s clothing,
Trying to hurt an aching soul to save their own.

Fears,
Everybody has one, hidden just behind their eyes,
And if you squint, you’ll find what they try to hide.
As the tears pool dripping,
And their heart starts breaking,
You’ll realize,
That being human,
Is being afraid of what tomorrow will bring.

This may sound foolish,
And I know it is,
But I’m afraid of change,
Chronically afraid.
May be why I’m so anxious,
Watching things speed by so quick,
Whilst I’m left wondering:
Where did it all go?
I think I’m rather boring,
And nobody knows me better than me.
Introducing the fear of being alone,
Praying it doesn’t end up becoming real.

Demons,
Everyone has them, hidden just behind their eyes,
And if you squint, you’ll find what they try to hide.
And as my tears start flowing,
And my heart begins to open,
I hope you’ll realize,
That part of being human,
Is filled with pain and strife,
And sometimes,
Feels harder than it’s worth.