"proportioned" poems
1765
That Love is all there is,
Is all we know of Love;
It is enough, the freight should be
Proportioned to the groove.
42.4k
She always burned her
Barbie dolls after she cut
All the hair of that plastic,
Magic perfect blonde ****
She was 11 and had just
Always hated how all
Her family and friends kept
On giving her a doll
That was perfect and had all
And she just couldn't see
The relevance and the elephant
In the room is insecurity
So at 11 she Cant see what she is
but what she is not
her imperfections made her check
If Barbies got what she got
But Barbie did not barbies
perky with both ***** and ****
Her legs don't grow hair
And she don't need cover up
And her short legs look
Nothing like barbies do
Even her *** and
Thighs are all proportioned too
Fit her spectacular body's frame
that frames her reflexion
with the blame to detain
what remained as complexion
Of her oily pimpled skin that
Is too fair and needs a tan
And living up to all that not to
Mention a corvette and a man
That's why Barbie hangs across
Her closet where her mom
Saw the Barbie dolls She hung
by the neck yelling what's wrong
butShe just masks how she
felt so a head doctor was
a psychiatrist who sighed
A bit but had sided with her cause
She was an ugly duckling herself
That Never grew to be pretty
But the city has no pitty for no
Pretty so best you be witty
And told her to keep with the
hate she now held for Barbie
and before She left the doctor said
**** a corvette get a Ferrari
So She left happy but hardly
Cured of her obsession
Over beauty and style,
With a classy shoe collection
But she is now only 11
And reassures herself that she
Is no barbie and would repeat
barbies not prettier than me, and
Til she believes it she still burns them
To hang them soar
Shows a mirror to the bald barbie so
She knows she's not pretty no more
See what its like to feel too short
as She cuts at the knee
She says" i can be more
like Barbie if she's more like me"
Wheres obese Barbie,
or Immigrant Barbie from far
Black haired or short haired Barbie
Who's bus pass is her car
How about welfare Barbie or
realistic Barbie anything but
A smooth long haired long legged
Perfect shaped ***** and ****
With Friggin hips child birth was
Not made for and why
She asks Can't barbie have flaws so
I can pause the feeling that I
Will fail before I try if I
Am expected to be
So beautiful and Barbie never talks
No wonder kens easy to please
the message seems look pretty and
Dont talks all u need
So she hangs them violently
but quietly wishing they would bleed
But as she gets older shell
Like herself more and won't dwell
That god didn't make her a Barbie
maybe hes not as good as matel.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 11:20 PM UTC
380
There is a flower that Bees prefer—
And Butterflies—desire—
To gain the Purple Democrat
The Humming Bird—aspire—
And Whatsoever Insect pass—
A Honey bear away
Proportioned to his several dearth
And her—capacity—
Her face be rounder than the Moon
And ruddier than the Gown
Or Orchis in the Pasture—
Or Rhododendron—worn—
She doth not wait for June—
Before the World be Green—
Her sturdy little Countenance
Against the Wind—be seen—
Contending with the Grass—
Near Kinsman to Herself—
For Privilege of Sod and Sun—
Sweet Litigants for Life—
And when the Hills be full—
And newer fashions blow—
Doth not retract a single spice
For pang of jealousy—
Her Public—be the Noon—
Her Providence—the Sun—
Her Progress—by the Bee—proclaimed—
In sovereign—Swerveless Tune—
The Bravest—of the Host—
Surrendering—the last—
Nor even of Defeat—aware—
What cancelled by the Frost—
4k
Downfall she claims
Dripping in disease
Her dress ripped
Trees dying
Holes cover the seams
Tattered
Sewage covered
Disgraced
Ugly
Taking her vitality
The mass living upon her soil
Population at a high
Charging her for corruption
Her hair cut
In shambles
Uneven proportioned
Greed is the man in lead
Unfairly held to shame
Her belly rumbles
Earthquakes
Crack her skin
Aching
Oozing her blood
Tsunamis wiping out existence
She violently
Throws tantrums
A twister destroying houses
Seeking attention
Under validated
Unnoticed for exotic jungle humanity
Innocence
Her music lifts
The mountain breeze
Sagebrush rustles
Birds whisper
Squirrels leaping
Her captivating body sings
Weak man made her break
Small art gone
Ice caps melting into the abyss
Taking scraps
Leftover bits
Her soul
Missing
Stipping her clothing
******* her gold
Her shirt selfishly torn
Naked she became
Her animals hungry
Oceans sickened
Our anguish
Is revenge
Knocked out
She's becoming manipulated belief
She's in debt to the population
Mother will reclaim
Her dynasty
We the people will be left
In emptiness
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 8:29 PM UTC
1. I hate my acne,
How it blemishes my cheeks,
Leaving scars for you to trace in the dark
as you kiss away my skin
2. I hate my weight.
The rolls of fat unevenly proportioned around my middle
so that my jeans will never
fit "just right"
and my broad shoulders reminding me every time
I pull on a shirt that I'm not built like a woman
3. I hate my appetite.
My stomach's never satisfied with a salad or a soup.
No,
I need the whole **** steak.
4. I hate my laugh,
how it crescendos through deep rolling hills
starting in my belly and ending in my soul.
It's infectious, because
once I start
you can't stop
5. I hate that I'm beautiful,
because I know that I'm not,
but **** when you look at me like that,
I outshine the stars.
6. I hate my honesty,
"No, I'm fine," why the hell can't I just say that,
but no,
I have to go bare my whole soul to you in hopes that
you don't bare it right back
7. Man, I hate that I'm faithful.
I hate that I'm never gonna throw in the towel
when things get tough,
and that every time you leave, I'll stay
8. I hate that I believe,
believe all the lies that you feed me,
hoping, maybe, by God's grace.
It's different this time and you'll stay
9. I hate myself.
I'm too good for you,
and not good enough for you,
and I'll never
ever be what you need,
but I keep trying and changing to become
bad enough for you,
and good enough for you,
and to somehow attempt to be what you need.
I hate myself because I have lost myself.
But 10.
Mostly, I just hate that I give a ****
I hate that I care about myself,
my weight,
my height,
my face,
my attitude
I hate that I'm not happy being me.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC
You lie there on your side.
Slightly out of breath.
Your face is propped up on your hand.
A slight smile is on your face,
The remnant Of some dumb joke
I've told.
I love to make you smile
I lie opposite you.
A perfect mirror of you.
I reach out and sloooowly,
(Almost imperceptibly)
I trace one finger along the enticing, promising curve of your hip.
Letting it trail up your skin,
Soft as a babies breath.
You close your eyes and shiver (Almost imperceptibly)...
Your breathing hitches
(Almost imperceptibly), but I catch it.
You roll onto your back
Making my fingers trail fleetingly across the curve of your perfectly proportioned hip
And across your silky belly
Where they come to rest
Looking into my eyes
You take my hand
And lead me...
Jul 23, 2021
Jul 23, 2021 at 11:21 PM UTC
day after day ticks by as i sit on the shelf
head held high with pride
cheeks pink
lips rosy
hair gloriously golden.
i am the epitome of grace
i am beautiful
i am perfectly proportioned
i am everything you want to be
and more.
*i can be a goddess
and you will no longer be godless*
let me sit upon your mantelpiece
your table
your bookshelf
so you can tire of me in a year
(perhaps two)
and I will lie on the ******* heap with candlewax and rotting vegetable peels
staring blue-eyed into nothingness.
(you are nothing without me)
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC
Her blond hair is thick and flowing
Like her voice which calms the senses
Her lips are red, pouty and kissable
Her figure is curvy yet proportioned
Her disposition is sweet, polite and kind.
And I am wrong, aren't I?
To let her captivate me even as a woman
Because you noticed what I said earlier
And she glanced back at you and smiled
And I let her take you away from me.
She's beautiful, isn't she?
That's why you made her your wife
And not I...
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 5:13 AM UTC
The burning hunger of fractured regret
Your blasphemous assumption of my stupidity?
in whose material conundrum of a word?
in what abstract thought on your minimal plane?
An endless valley of craters and breaks
Monosyllabic color in your grossly proportioned mind
With all rotting media disgust and YOU mock me?
You ballooned beast of a drunken horror film nominee
The paint on a pigs face will always burn inward
Scarring the inside craniotomy
Until nothing is left but the repetition of a credo
An incline of standard flat bodies
****** up and deposed All living in a drawl world
Steeped in liquid
Stretched thin to cover the inquiries
To burn over and brand the thinkers and the lots
An Oklahoma city bombing is still carved into your fair-haired breath
Your bigotry is hilarious because my disgust could eat us all
Yes I am leaping off my high horse but **** you I deserve it
We frown upon pride unless it is clothed in metaphors of suppression
And to what do you overcome?
Your perfect quiet suburban upbringing
Exposure blackballing the floor boards filled with lies
Lies that are my foundation
Rocks that rust into marbles rattling
Around my stomach
With every rung the anger in my rib cage calls out to you
The yelping, the sheltered closet and the oriental rugs
Yes I am dumb like you
More happier in this fatal dichotomy
of a trip **** holy **** despotic mess.
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:26 AM UTC
Slice me in half
And look at my insides
Do you see what you wanted
Everything you’ve denied?
Bite away the bruises
That you don’t want to eat
Maybe while your at it
You'll throw me to your feet
Carefully dissect me
Before you take all of me in
Watch out for the worms
Which crawl around within
But don’t I look so pretty?
As I shine down from that tree
Red, and ripe, and delicious
Confined within my dignity
From the outside I am perfect
-ly proportioned to your liking
Yet on the inside you keep finding
Everything disgusting
Eat away at all the beauty
Which I try and try to keep
Till nothing is here to cover m
My core is naked, and I weep
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 2:20 PM UTC
No specious splendour of this stone
Endears it to my memory ever;
With lustre only once it shone,
And blushes modest as the giver.
Some, who can sneer at friendship’s ties,
Have, for my weakness, oft reprov’d me;
Yet still the simple gift I prize,
For I am sure, the giver lov’d me.
He offer’d it with downcast look,
As fearful that I might refuse it;
I told him, when the gift I took,
My only fear should be, to lose it.
This pledge attentively I view’d,
And sparkling as I held it near,
Methought one drop the stone bedew’d,
And, ever since, I’ve lov’d a tear.
Still, to adorn his humble youth,
Nor wealth nor birth their treasures yield;
But he, who seeks the flowers of truth,
Must quit the garden, for the field.
’Tis not the plant uprear’d in sloth,
Which beauty shews, and sheds perfume;
The flowers, which yield the most of both,
In Nature’s wild luxuriance bloom.
Had Fortune aided Nature’s care,
For once forgetting to be blind,
His would have been an ample share,
If well proportioned to his mind.
But had the Goddess clearly seen,
His form had fix’d her fickle breast;
Her countless hoards would his have been,
And none remain’d to give the rest.
1.5k
904
Had I not This, or This, I said,
Appealing to Myself,
In moment of prosperity—
Inadequate—were Life—
“Thou hast not Me, nor Me”—it said,
In Moment of Reverse—
“And yet Thou art industrious—
No need—hadst Thou—of us”?
My need—was all I had—I said—
The need did not reduce—
Because the food—exterminate—
The hunger—does not cease—
But diligence—is sharper—
Proportioned to the Chance—
To feed upon the Retrograde—
Enfeebles—the Advance—
1.4k
. In 1787, Ann married journalist
William Radcliffe, who was part-owner
& editor of the English Chronicle; William
often came home late & to occupy her time,
Ann took up writing; eagerly reading her work to him
when he came in. Their marriage was childless
but happy; Ann called him her "nearest
relative and best friend" & the money she earned
from her novels later allowed them to travel
with their dog Chance. In her final years, Radcliffe
retreated from public life; rumored to have become
insane as a result of her writing -
Little is known of Ann Radcliffe's life.
In 1823, the year of her death, the
Edinburgh Review, said, "She never
appeared in public, nor mingled
in private society, but kept herself
apart, like the sweet bird that sings
its solitary notes, shrouded & unseen."
Christina Rossetti attempted to write a biography
of Ann, but abandoned it for lack of information;
According to Ruth Facer,
"Physically, she was said to
be 'exquisitely proportioned' –
quite short, beautiful complexion–
'as was her whole countenance,
especially her eyes, eyebrows &
mouth.'"
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 7:34 PM UTC
They protested war in the sixties
Today we occupy the 1% and their wealth
Times haven’t changed in accordance with public opinion
But the police state has grown more authoritative
Media output is under corporate thumbs
Social media is a lie proportioned from mass de-intellect
Intellectualize the comeback of systematic rational thought
Distraction of disaster is distasteful destruction
Defined, refined, combined, combed in
A darkened bomb shelter to hide in
The enemy ambushed in guerrilla warfare
Has the benefit of never seeing the enemy coming
Taken to the streets in prolific protest
Condemning the condemnation of a capitalist nation
It’s party time to destroy the two-party system
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 9:41 AM UTC
She lay in his bed
Scenes of tunnels & trains
& thoughts of trite moosh run through her head
when young she saw him different
with a quiff
& a whiff of CK on levis
& a watch with LED lights
& a t-shirt blue, skin tight
but with fashion aside
her passion subsides
when he enters not so gently,
did not test the waters
did not guess it was low tide
During the evening they danced
They got down to steady trance
But now it seems he’s in free time
A strange rhythm, so contrived
He doesn’t look like he knows it
Doesn’t seem like type
To quote ornette coleman
In the dark of the night
He has the feel of squashed fruit
And the thwack of a wet sock
Flooped out like misplaced steps
Of a horse learning to walk
The night entertainment then,
Condemned to an eye on a clock
Whilst sharing sweaty absorbence
& not at all evenly proportioned
the most obtuse solos
are always too long
and if made into a duet
it’s just awkward & wrong
one face polite
as one face holds strong
held strong in the notion
it is the king of this realm, his own
like a deluded ****** rock star
with an out of tune guitar
& a confused young groupie
rebelling against her ma & pa
in the end he doesn’t sell it
rather he gives it away
& she is obliged to take it
to carry on the shared charade
a feeble dance of pretence
not to shatter the held façade
of a bullied masculinity
of a young boy fully charged
of a girl swooned by a conman
albeit not well disguised
she convinced herself a prince of sorts
fit to break past her royal guard
she leaves bored & unfulfilled
while he sleeps sound & proud
her dreaming of a prince she’ll soon meet
with a better sense of time
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 12:49 AM UTC
An ash tree stands
at the place of creation
it is called Yggdrasil
A high tree
well-proportioned
the source of the dew
mother of winds
Green it is
standing over
the well of fate
Its roots draw
from the waters
that freshen that well
In old English there is a word
Treowth
it means both
tree
and truth
This tree is truth
its latticework of leaves
and branches
more intricate
than the Milky Way
It is a lung inverted
inhaling heaven's mists
exhaling the wind
It is our guardian tree
planted by a mighty race
that came before
A sentinel of hope
a goad to good works
and the last remaining sign
of a dawning
when the human mind
was first formed.
Rest now in its shade.
The final journey will soon begin.
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 4:43 PM UTC
Hold me up on your shoulders
back against the wall
look up between my thighs
teasing inside, tongue & all.
Lay me down
on the soft blanket of your bed,
& kiss me all the way up
to my lips.
Open my legs
pin my hands
above my head
& tease me with your hips.
Now baby,
I want you to push your perfectly proportioned shaft, inside my tight woven ***** Rub my ***** & ******** while your rhythm makes me go crazy.
Increase the tempo of your symphony, arching my back- you make me gasp.
You make me scream.
Oh make it last!
Feel the swell
Feel the pulse
Nails in your back
Body convulse
10, 9, 8,
My whole body starts to shake
7, 6, 5, 4
Baby spread my ***** like I'm a *****
3,2,1
a squirter is always 10 times the fun.
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 12:35 AM UTC
Actions speak louder than words
So let me show you i love you
instead of tell you.
Let me kiss those perfect pastel pink lips
Let me slide my hands down over those beautiful hips
And pull you in closer.
Let me softly trace the back of your spine
Let me show you just how badly
I want you to be mine.
Let me take you out of your comfort zone
And colour you in shades you never even new existed
Let me bring you alive
Show you the life, you never new you could have.
Let me caress those gorgeously proportioned thighs
wipe away tears from those enticing vortexes, you call eyes
That lure me in,
Like a bird of prey,
You can have your way with me.
Let me hush away your fears
into a little black box
to which only i have the key
and i promise to keep it locked.
Let me take you to the mirror,
and give you my eyes
so you could appreciate and realise just how beautiful you really are
Let me undress those scars with tender loving hands
Let me fulfil all your wants and demands.
Let me be your ear, whenever you need someone to listen
Don't be ashamed of those battle wounds, I will never be ashamed of you or the marks you bear.
We'll take them out into the moonlight
And watch as they glisten there.
Ill take you to the horizon and you can stand on the beach
Anything you want, let me show you is within your reach.
With your feet just touching shore
You let me know
If you ever want more.
Let us wash away your insecurities in me, in a sea of love, laughter and late night phone calls.
Let me show you, that you deserve it all
And more.
Let me hold your hand whenever you feel as though your falling
Let me be the voice that guides you home, when you're calling.
Let me show you that i love you
that no pair were made as exclusively for each other
As me and you.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 3:17 PM UTC
It's easy to fall in love with
pretty pictures of people,
plastic & proportioned.
I hide the inside with the
flaunt of my feathers, in
courtship of approval
hiding, hoping, hiding,
hoping, get lost in the
rainbows of my facade.
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
He swoops gracefully across the field,
Propelled by the wind, a steady blur,
An arched neck, slender and toned,
Proportioned body of muscle,
Bird of ample strength, solid gold,
Thrushes out rabbits amongst the thistle,
Attacks with ravage talons and lifts,
Dying creature in mighty grasp,
Tight lipped until his catch is dead
He touches down upon the grass,
Sharp beak, hard as lead
His wary eyes the colour of wine,
Cuts roughly into his victim’s core,
The Golden Eagle begins to dine.
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 7:42 PM UTC
To leave my glassy shell
And wander ‘twixt the verdant hills
Only to gaze at the industrial city as it spills.
Over this once quiet landscape,
Now choked with bitumen black roads and luminous eyes which keep vigils and forebode.
The skies licked by sound and smoke
Staring down at the shuffle of ill-proportioned buildings amidst a sea of compounding unknown things.
To walk down the narrowing alleys and breathe and smell the stagnant vapour;
Watching the walls crumple like old letter paper.
The street lamps like black spears; upright and joyless.
With lights that cast shadows like dancing daemons
Disappearing at the sight of the early mornings;
Dawn. This has always been and always will be.
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 6:15 AM UTC
“Hello”
“Hello, and you are?”
“I am here, you can tell that by the fact that you can’t see anything behind me”
“Looks like we’re both just occupying space”
“Always”
“Why do you wear that suit? When I see men in suits all I see is a collection of different proportioned black and white shapes and I imagine they want to wear masks”
“Most people like to show off even how ordinary they are, of course when the suit comes off we all like to be kooky and different, but who isn’t these days”
“You sound like an office man”
“You seem like a Rachel”
“No”
“The red ring of lipstick round your glass and the way your shoe points nuzzle each other makes me picture that name”
“I don’t look like my name, like a celebrity or a country or something”
“Can I have your name?”
“Only for a second”
“I wanted something which was yours, even if for just a second”
“You didn’t ask to see my face and that is much more personal to me than a name which I imagine I share with many other people”
“Probably the same as your earrings”
“What’s your name?”
“I took it off for this evening, it didn’t go well with my suit.”
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 1:18 AM UTC
A song I liked a long time ago was talking about how no one believes in cupid but the easter bunny and santa claus are totally legit and i think it's true because in the face of all of these other abstract concepts love is i think the one we doubt more than any other...
many people asked me over many years what i look for in a woman... and it took a very long time but i figured it out... and i don't have a list of traits but i have developed a mental image of what she would be like...and i knew i had it figured out because i fell head over heels for this girl that is in my mind... i wake up and she is who i think about constantly... people tell me you don't control who you fall in love with... but all i was asking is that she be real...
there aren't any super human traits about her she just has her own thing she is self aware to the extent that she sees her own flaws and tries to become a better person despite those flaws... never once covering them up but wearing them proudly as a symbol of the life she has led... and i fell in love with her pride... because any conceited mouth breather can show pride in their successes but only she breathes a new life into her failures and makes them shine brighter than any light, natural or otherwise... she is very much human... and she don't even have to have a big ***** just something nice and well proportioned to her body...
i don't know... if i met her...i think that would be it for me... no second questions about it... there'd be no fight i could put up against the fact that i would fall irrevocably in love with her...
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 1:36 PM UTC