"photoshopped" poems
In The Prison Of Winter, No Rise, No Set
orbit nearly closed,
the radio announcer gleefully
chirruping, the twittering fool,
"only ** graves to X off till
spring"
the weight of the prior
the wait of the more
no matter how little
yet to come
too much insufferable
having suffered
multiple life sentences
you snit **** u don't know better,
ha, they don't even run
concurrently
there are no sunsets
in the girding grays
of harsher enough and words that fail me,
are the winners in the
winter of the ****
tests and hunts,
I have successfully
failed
of course I'm wrong you
petulant hobgoblin wringing
nyet from me you'll get no concession,
**** science,
there are no sunsets in the winter
and the sunrises,
short unsweetened,
light-less, less of less,
frigid glaring revealers
of dead trees
and deader
men
maybe in the Rockies,
perhaps the Alps,
wonderlands photoshopped,
pretty lies on the Internet BS posted
where I live,
wear the wear the weary
neath the sweat stink of layers of
unbundled choking hands,
winter's damage
assessed and assessment is
never overdue, payable in
immediacy
heating bills I can't pay,
a job that said no more of you,
unpretty please,
a woman who sorcerer-scarced herself
right freaking black magic quick,
trust me I have certified verified,
me and Nixon,
X's on the kitchen calendar,
there is daylight, there is mighty night,
almighty in long and colorless
and nothing in between,
but the smog stained slush of
smothered life
but definitely
no sunrises and no sunsets
watched all day from the
imprisoning kitchen window
which doubles
as a **** you
mirror
there are no, not any,
you know what,
cannot even say them,
the pipe dreams of better yet,
pipes that have beaten down
me and my
disassociated senses,
signed sealed and now delivered,
from the formerly known as
The Summer Man
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
I despise social media.
It's ugly, to state the obvious
Our lives are posted, retweeted, altered, reblogged, perfected, and photoshopped to exactly how we want to be perceived
We have the freedom to be exactly what they want us to be.
It starts with a few edits doesn't it,
pigmented our skin to seem smooth and sun kissed,
that would seem most acceptable right?
Maybe an extra like for the skinnier waist.
More reassurance for brighter colors.
Some more filters will hid the emptiness you feel with your friends
Another like
Flashier clothing, phones, shoes, cars, other simple words our eyes have latched on to
Another like
We urge ourselves to portray the life of leisure and effortless beauty, happiness, success,
Another like
But what are we enjoying?
Another like
Views of our changing world through a 3 by 8 view.
Another like
Events pass by swipe
Another like
and swipe
Another like
And when we managed to unlock ourselves from this grasp
We always come back
Like flies to light, more like scratches to a scab
Festering we find ourselves getting ****** back in
To an imaginary world, that if destroyed, would have no physical effects on their fictional beings
For without this world, maybe eyes will open
We will step past the boundaries,
and start to love our beings
unfiltered
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 4:40 PM UTC
I wont be censored and I cant be stopped,
I'll be air brushed out and photoshopped.
Forgotten.
There's an energy in this youth,
Kids with blue and red hair,
The world is up for grabs,
but I wont see it,
I wont be there.
If the revolution came tonight would anybody care.
Feb 10, 2010
Feb 10, 2010 at 5:48 AM UTC
Personality,
what makes you the way you are,
can't be photoshopped.
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 8:36 AM UTC
accept your personality
except when you dont meet the criteria
accept your body
except if it doesnt look like the photoshopped models
accept your clothing style
except if it doesnt fit into the listed categories
accept your weight
except if its not in the doctors average range chart
accept your loss
except if it starts to bring others down too
accept yourself
except if you dont then i will
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
Photoshopped fantasy fictions
Misogynistic oppressive depictions
Unobtainable beauty
Fake imagery
This LIE is but violence and bigotry
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC
your first step on the road to "recovery"
was to tape words on your reflection
colors littered with senseless lessons
colors littered with senseless rules
your second step on the road to "recovery"
was to trail words on the thin walls
tainting the white trim of your door
the words were like water seeping from
your demon flooded bedroom
your third step on the road to "recovery"
was to illustrate the words in unsustainable images
literally photoshopped to the unachievable
recovery became self indulgence
you have a skewed sense of progress
thinking consuming the clean will clear you of your sins
but your sins are buried deep in the abandonment you kept hidden
in the hallows of your debt
self recovery cannot be found with words spat out of context
hanging on your reflection
self recovery is found when you reflect those words into context
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
You are so much more than photoshopped bodies.
You are a spine that gets you up off the ground when you’re ready to fight back
you are the legs that walk away when enough is enough.
You are the arms that reach out when you need someone else.
You are the heart that loves them, and forgets to keep a little love for yourself sometimes.
You are so much more than your scars,
you are the blood that runs beneath them
you are every single cell in your body
fighting to keep you alive.
You are so much more than the branches on your stomach and your thighs.
You are your voice, your dreams and your fiery heart.
You are so much more than a strangers scoff
you are the strength that ignores it.
You are so much more than a slur,
you are the courage that fights it.
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 12:53 AM UTC
*What has the world become?
Over come by the perfect image,
Measuring your value,
By the amount of likes you've got,
Can you not?*
*Since when do other people determine who you are?
Has world gone that far?
Seeing all these perfect pictures on every social network,
Edited and photoshopped beyond recognition,
Was that really your parents vision?*
*Stop looking at the world as a template,
Value yourself first and the world will value you.
Social Media...sometimes I wonder what the world would be without you.*
*Social media,we're so obsessed with you,
How can I think less of you?
So much stress caused by you.
Yet, I'm so impressed by you!*
I.L
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 2:06 PM UTC
A Valentine's Card dressed
With Steve Buscemi's face,
photoshopped onto a child,
disturbing and hilarious,
tattooed on the inside
with once-true truths.
Flammable.
A severed chunk of
35 mm film,
cut in a rhombus,
or trapeze or whatever,
highly flammable.
A piece of cloth
I brought with me,
And the part of
the belt I had to cut
off so it would fit
my skinny ***
Flammable, slightly.
A dead and dried up leaf,
Impaled on the bulletin board,
From a tree I don't even know what,
That sometimes crinkles with the wind,
If she were alive still,
She would comment on the
Cold thumbtack spear
In her abdomen, and
Sniff regrets at the sweet,
Artificial Vanilla waves below.
I keep my wall of
flammable memories
Above a lit candle,
Every day, I wish the flames
Would reach a little higher, but
Every day, the wax sinks,
low, low, lower still.
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 2:55 PM UTC
I have memories
That could be mine,
Selfies of other times.
Gray matter shots
That morph and shift,
Blur and smear
Yet shine.
My phantom snaps
Have smoke and mirrors,
Spectres with borders.
The smell of bacon,
A rising sun,
A carpet hill
To lay upon;
A door that swings
To past future,
A window to see through.
My astral albumn
Haunts my nights,
No light can dim my view.
I think my thoughts
Are photoshopped.
These memories of you.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 9:00 AM UTC
My daughter will not crawl from crib to tanning bed.
She will learn
the terms “unnattainable beauty standards” before she learns the alphabet.
She will never compare herself
to anyone.
She will never compare herself to Britney, Christina, Selena.
She will never compare herself to Cinderella, Ariel, Belle,
Hell. No.
She will never aspire to be the sultry *** kitten taking seductive showers in shampoo commercials.
No.
My daughter will be named Venus.
The goddess of love, beauty, fertility,
The most beautiful woman I ever saw.
She is plump, fullfigured barebreasted wide hipped with curly hair covered mons
Goddess.
My daughter will grow up to be ****** poisonously beautiful
With long locks of goldenrodred hair, like her mother.
Greyblueblack eyes and shoulder freckles, like her father.
And if I can never become pregnant,
my sisters daughters will be my daughters
skin the color of cinnamon or chocolate, or vanilla ice cream
and just as sweet.
Men, women, boys, girls will pine over her, fall in love with her radiating skin
that will never look photoshopped, but always real.
As if the sun came down from the sky to give her the glow of all the light in the universe.
She will love her body the way that my mother taught me to love mine.
I will show her pictures of Whoopi Goldberg and America Ferrera and Margaret Cho and Marilyn Monroe
And she will know that beauty
is not a synonym
for skinny.
Beauty
is not a synonym for
****
Beauty is not defined by size
or color
or texture, no.
It is defined by how she distributes
her love
and light
to everyone she meets.
no exceptions.
and she will never doubt that she is lovely.
Sep 2, 2011
Sep 2, 2011 at 11:47 AM UTC
when i was six years old my whole family went to disney world and being the self-respecting born and bred star wars fans we were, my brother and i cajoled our parents into letting us buy pictures of our little faces photoshopped onto the faces of star wars characters.
my brother? anakin skywalker. and me? aayla secura.
who you probably haven't heard of, even if you're a pretty big fan of the series. to get you up to speed, aayla secura was a jedi knight and a general during the clone wars era in the prequel trilogy, which is all suitably ******* badass, but if i remember right she has roughly five minutes of screen time in the movies and even less in lines. and you probably remember her as that one blue chick.
and if i remember right she was also one of about three or four female options for the pictures. sure, there was padme amidala and princess leia, who are badass ladies in their own rights, but see the thing is that no six year old watches starwars and thinks to themselves, "hmm, i want to be a politician!" you think to yourself, "i want to be a jedi." and the only option that was a girl and a jedi was a background character.
but that's the thing isn't it? being a background character, a love interest, a side-kick is something girls grow used to seeing themselves cast as. sure, we're in the movie, but with half the lines and screen time. never the center of the story. never the hero, just the pretty girl with fluttery eyelashes he saves. too often i found myself having to invent my own characters and stories so that i could feel that i was part of a narrative, too.
and suddenly, more than ten years too late for for six year old me but just in time for a whole new generation of little girls, the person in the center of the poster clutching a blue lightsaber like a beacon of the light side was a girl.
so this halloween as i'm handing out candy i will see myself in every little girl with her hair twisted into three buns and light saber in her hand and the galaxy in her eyes. finally, finally the story is about her.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 11:02 PM UTC
Love every inch
Love ever curve and scar
Love the body that carries your soul
The soul that thinks there should be a goal,
a goal to be perfect
Because the World has told it so
They say you're too skinny
Then they tell you you're fat
Your mind wants to blow
What have we done to our world though?
Why want us to suffer mentally?
living up to societies expectations
Fake photos, and photoshopped *********
Why make us all follow their fake idea of perfection?
I am more than just what meets the eyes,
No one else has my skin, my body, my hair, my mind and me all together
I'm unique as I am
I will ignore their definitions of "beautiful",
Not going to hide under pounds of makeup,
Not going to hate myself for not looking more like them,
and not going to hide from the world
I WILL BE BOLD AND GO,
Let them all see who i want to BE, instead of the mask they wanted to see
The mask covering up the real ME
I will stand up straight,
I will keep my head up high,
For me and all of society
Praying one day, this will all be over with
That we will stop defining "beauty"
I will fight for our right,
Our right to live as how we are made
No more being afraid
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 10:54 PM UTC
Look in the mirror
What do you see?
Imperfection
As you reach left for
The tan crumbs to cover your uneven skin
And reaching right for
The black
Toxic
Goo
To give the impression that your stubby eyelashes
Aren't incapable of growing
You step back and look at yourself once more
Its not enough
You rummage for the crayon to
Smear across your eyelids
In hopes that it will make your
Dull
Brown eyes
Pop
Your face feels pounds heavier
Yet, are you really done so soon?
Aren't you forgetting something
You dig deep into the drawer
To find a
Burning
Red paint to drown your thin pale lips in
Longing for the look of that
Photoshopped
Supermodel you saw in that magazine
You come downstairs
Dad says you look like a clown
Mom says you're still a kid
Society says its not enough
What do you say
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
If god was a real person ,
I'd sue .
For floppy ***** ,
And gaping eye sockets .
Misplaced fat pockets
Stretch marks and paranoid doobs.
For photoshopped pictures
And singles mixers
And never being able to properly chew
My words Before I spit them out
For men that don't ask before they mount
And for all the doubt .
For protesters in front of abortion
Clinics and mimics .
And being more creative without your adoration .
For false salvation .
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
Northern Michigan has got some pretty twisted people but call themselves decent, God faring Christians. Copy pasting two typical posts on rants & raves forum exchanged between two typical Northern Michiganders. Not like them but think they are weirdos and get a good old belly laugh at the ignorance in the good old deep south errrr, I mean northern michigan. We got spared today from reading that Obama was chief ***** head but did get to read his racist post faking being American Indian.
From northern michigan craigslist poster #1
RE; Curious in Fairview (TC)
You sure were quick to figure out what "passes for" debate on this place.
Good Job!
Here's what I do....first, I don't give a hoot what any of them say or do to my posts.
The name calling, and personal bashing are simply humorous to me. Truthfully though, I sometimes egg them on....It simply helps prove that the common IQ level
is somewhat ( ???? ) LOW!
Secondly---"Chief Itchybutt" is the ONLY one worth reading---he tells some
pretty incredible stories....he should probably write a book in my opinion.
As for all the rest of the spew---let it roll off your back like water on a wet
duck...just read it and be glad your not one of "them"...
Advice from:
YBBB--the one, the only!
Craigslist poster #2 with pic of Obama with huge photoshopped lips.
Special for Bob, a deer hunting story (in my woods)
Ugg! How! Chief IIttccheebutt of the Neverwiippee Tribe here to tell all what I see in woods hunting for deer, Ugg! Me go out with boomstick early in morning when turkeys are on roost to sit by deer trail to **** a buck.Very windy out, see no deer, me not even see a tree rat with fuzzy tail. Me wait and wait and wait, still no deer. It get dark now so me go in and try next day. Next day come, same thing,no deer, me think I pick a different spot tomorrow. Tommorrow come and I sit by the edge of a big field with sand holes and short grass with flags in little holes, it very quiet and me hear leaves crunching, me crouch down and get gun ready. Noise get closer and closer then it stop so I look out from behind tree and put gun down and pick up I-phone and snap pic of most stupid looking buck me ever see... then me start big belly laugh, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
Ugg! How!
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 5:15 PM UTC
Caked,
Contoured,
Painted,
Photoshopped--
Perfection is
What Nature alone can never realize.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
I'm sitting the passenger's seat
of a bright blood orange 1973 Ford Pinto.
Adam Levine is driving.
We talk about the weather,
and sing along to some Hall and Oates on the radio.
(By the way, he nails those high notes—
just like Adam Levine should.)
In the interim, we share a pint of
Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte ice cream—
a flavor which we both agree
is subpar and a total disappointment.
As he passes the pint back to me,
he admits that his abs in half the photos
you see in People magazine are Photoshopped,
and pats his little round belly in jest.
I confess that I can always identify
even the most flawless Photoshop jobs—
and honestly, I don't think
he is the sexiest man alive anyway.
We have a laugh after that one, Adam and me,
and devour the silence for a bit before
I lean in and ask him if he even knows
where he's taking us.
He leans in too and makes some brief,
but serious eye contact,
(his eyes are hazel, by the way),
and he says something to me
that I really need to hear.
“It doesn't matter
if I know where we're going, Bitsy.
You can always get there from here.”
I lean back in my seat
and smile as I watch the world streak by.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 10:29 AM UTC
She was taught from a young age that beauty was having pale skin and a bright smile,
But she wasn’t trained to see that beauty itself was somewhere in the writings of a fragile, broken heart.
She was raised in a society where thin bodies were attractive and big bodies were a disgrace
As if it was worse than the crime against Jews, homosexuals, and the colors of race combined.
Belief that beauty was only found in painted faces with blinding teeth was planted in her brain at such a young age that she forgot how she looked in the mirror because she was too afraid to see her own smile.
She forgot to brush her teeth in the mornings because she was too afraid to ask her mommy, “Mommy, am I as pretty as the girl on the magazine?”
She’s too afraid to hear her mother’s reaction, or her siblings’ reaction, hell, even her father’s reaction.
“No, you’re not as pretty as her,”
That’s what they would say,
But she left before they could finish their sentence:
“No, you’re not as pretty as her. Pretty is an understatement. You’re pretty **** amazing, pretty **** talented, and pretty **** gorgeous, but you sure as hell ain’t just pretty. You’re not beautiful like the distorted girls in television screens, and you’re not beautiful like the chicks on those photoshopped magazines. No, you’re beautiful because you don’t ever see it. You’re beautiful because you hide in the flaws we all grew up in. You’re beautiful because you write your heart out on paper, and you’re beautiful because you give a little piece of your heart out to every person you see. No, you’re not as pretty as those prostitutes like to think they are. No, you’re pretty because you have good judgment and know when to give your heart out to strangers. You’re beautiful because you leave an impact in everyone’s lives, whether it’s good or not, intentional or not. You’re beautiful because you say you aren’t and you believe you aren’t, but you’re pretty **** beautiful for telling everyone that they are instead of saving some of the compliments for yourself. So, no, you will never be as pretty as they are because that’s what they will only stay as - pretty.”
Pretty in photoshoots and pretty in covers,
But they will never ever be as pretty as the girl with the heart too big for its confinements,
Heart too tiny for the world to see.
No, the world will never ever be as pretty as her,
But someday the clouds will drift away,
And the rays of sunshine will come out,
And it will shine on her,
And it will show her that beauty and pretty aren’t just the superficial things she was taught from day one.
Beauty is someone who will leave a mark on this soil,
And she will never look back to see it.
Beauty is someone afraid to believe in everything her parents told her to stay away from.
She doesn’t believe in love because love is too powerful,
And love is too kind, and love is beautiful,
But beauty is something her parents told her not to believe in either,
Because beauty’s an illusion and no one sees the obvious even if it’s right in front of them -
It will be blurred by smoke and ***** and the images that come from drugs.
She was taught to hide beauty or it will hurt you because society doesn’t know how to appreciate it.
They don’t know how to love and find beauty in everything around them,
They all just ignore the girl with the tear tracks on her cheeks and a broken smile and a note on her back that says,
“Beautiful”
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 8:41 PM UTC
What is beauty?
An ideal stuffed down our throats,
That makes us scrutinise reflections
To trace every single flaw and imperfection in our very being?
I've long since stopped searching for beauty in the mirror,
It was a loosing battle, no mater what empty compliments were spat my way.
Instead I've come to think of beauty as freedom,
As liberation from the shackled thoughts of society,
And it's come to mean so much.... more.
Beauty isn't in the angular curves of malnourished models,
The photoshopped perfection of tabloid queens.
No.
Beauty is in muted sunsets,
Colours thrown up as homage to a whispered day,
Cradles by clouds and wisps of white.
Beauty is in the moments that make you itch for a pen,
A brush, a lens: anything to preserve the moment
In perfect clarity so that you can feel again the breath thieving awe.
Beauty is in woven fingers and passionate touches,
Love shouted through the twitch of a mouth and the softening of eyes.
Beauty is caught in the second you stop, look up
And dig your nails into a world that spins too quickly,
Seizing every day that flies your way.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 3:15 PM UTC
Instagram made me realize just how many fish there are in the sea
You always hear the saying but never believe it's truth within the heat of the moment. The question is, is this good or is this bad?
When you realize just how many beautiful people there it assures you, for a moment at least. That mr right or mrs right is out there and my are they beautiful. I see her now perfect from her lips to her nips. From her hair to the way she promptly sits in her chair. But something else happens, it shoots at your own ego and kills your self assurance. You start to think well maybe I'm not as hot as I think I am. How could I ever be with any of these people. Or worse, I don't like her because the women in front of me can't conspire to the women I see on Instagram, photoshopped to the waist, spray tanned out, teeth artificially whitened, makeup two inches thick and beyond reality. And we're caught, trying to play beautiful and trying to chase beautiful... I don't know it confuses me and makes me mad. I just hope to find someone real and someone more beautiful on the inside than they are on the out - as cliché as that sounds. But really it's something Instagram can't show. Which is why I should probably delete Instagram.
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 11:01 PM UTC
A shallow man
will only date a model,
but at least he's
honest.
A ****
will date anyone,
but only make the models feel
beautiful.
A decent guy
will date an average girl,
say he doesn't look at size,
but his actions say otherwise.
A nice guy
will date a fat girl,
but marry
a skinny one.
A good guy
will marry a fat girl,
but wish,
every day,
that she was thinner--
and she
will always know.
A rare guy
will date a fat girl
and not realize
that she's fat.
She will feel
beautiful
and think
she's a model.
But he's a
minority,
and non-model girls are a
majority.
There's a solution:
Starve
until the fat
disappears.
Until every guy
that has ever preferred a skinny girl
over you;
over a girl that looks like you
-- or worse --
is even smaller than you,
but not small
enough,
would finally
consider you
worthy.
Starve.
But don't get too thin.
Guys complain about that too.
Now you're not pretty enough,
again.
Starve until you're
just right --
they'll tell you how great you look;
ask how you did it.
You'll lie,
yet again,
to maintain
the facade.
They'll think
you're disciplined --
but they don't know
just how much.
You can starve so they're happy;
put on a smile
to make them think you are too. Because you never will be --
they've destroyed your mind
with their standards;
you've destroyed it
with striving to live up to them.
You'll marry a guy
who tells you
you're beautiful,
but your eyes are broken;
an ugly,
obese girl
relentlessly
stares back.
She tells you
your husband
lies.
She tells you
food is bad,
purging is good.
She tells you
he prefers someone skinnier,
someone better.
You'll never be enough --
all because some
teenage boy
hung up a poster of a
photoshopped
model on his wall --
decided that she
is the ultimate goal,
and, thus,
your destiny emerged.
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC
paranoia of the 3rd degree
in 8th grade
when the boy i liked IM'd my friend
and said the shirt i wore to church made me look fat.
shaking nervousness in a 12 year old body
overweight
moving a fork from my plate to my mouth --
a true horror
listening to girls read calories
off a box of vanilla wafers
pinching my stomach fat
wanting to tear it off
an 8 year old who asked her older sister
to help her get thinner
decades i've wasted looking so close at every piece of me
i know how i look from every angle without a mirror
i've memorized every defect.
critical sections studied under a microscope:
i am not anything but scientific in my process.
i blow myself up to disproportionate sizes
and then wonder why sometimes i lay in bed and feel
huge.
and other times
so small.
after a while you'll begin to realize that the constant scrutiny and study of your temple is fruitless
that the hungry monster behind your ribcage
that eats dark lipstick and winged eyeliner and name brand clothes and highlighting powder and contouring brushes
that you sacrifice increments of time to every morning,
night
every prolonged glance in a mirror...
fuels itself off the notion that the images we see on a screen are the standard for cultural truth.
i turned 21 and decided to throw away the microscope.
to change what images i saw on my screens
to eliminate the photoshopped waists and fill them with pictures of normal, happy bodies
and i began to see the body that i exercised,
fed vegetables,
watered,
washed,
nurtured,
as not fat or ugly or unwanted
but as a perfect home for myself
and maybe someone else
if i wanted.
because the cultural truth lies in what you see in other humans
not dancing shadows on a screen in a cave
it lies in the gentle rolls of your stomach
and the crinkles around your lips and eyes
and the pimples on your forehead.
there is nothing garish
about reality.
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 10:17 AM UTC