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Alyssa Underwood Sep 2017
There is little in this world that consistently causes our hearts more pain or which produces in us more need for forgiveness than rejection, especially from those whom it has cost us so much to love. It is universal anathema to the soul, and much of our lives can be unconsciously governed by the fear of it. So we find ourselves naturally asking, "Joy in the midst of rejection? Is that even possible?" Oh, yes! Not only possible but commanded of us who are believers in Christ. And not only commanded of us but ready to be gloriously bestowed on us like the most precious of pearls.

It's in the season of greatest rejection that we enter the season of greatest opportunity to discover the fullness of God's joy by discovering the fullness of His own heart. Walking in intimacy with Jesus through this searing pain may be one of the most priceless privileges of grace granted to us on this earth, for it opens up one of the widest doors for us to enter into the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, and there is no more obvious chance to die to ourselves and live for Christ than in that holy communion of suffering with Him.

It's there that we're most able to clearly see Him and best prepared to clearly reflect Him, and it's then that we're empowered to live our lives here on earth from the very throne room of heaven, seated in the resurrected presence of our Bridegroom, where the joy always runs full and over. So our deepest heartaches will turn to deepest joys when we embrace them for the sake of Christ, to gain Him and be found in Him, to know Him in intimate detail through excruciatingly sweet experience. We will discover that the Lord entrusts the most luscious of blessings and the rarest of secrets to the most desperate and thirsty of souls, and that He delights to place the loveliest of wings on the lowliest of worms.

The gifts of myrrh's sorrow which the Father pours into the vessels of our lives are poured first into the hands of His own Son and flow through His nail-pierced scars before they ever touch us. And as we choose to graciously receive them as such, we are filled up with Him and enabled to pour Him out into the lives of others, even those who continually scorn and despise us.

The gift (yes, gift) of rejection is the high privilege of being asked by our Commander to become His flag bearer, receiving the esteemed honor of marching beside Him at the center of the front line, into the heat of the battle and into the face of the "enemy" (the rejecter), armed with no gun and carrying only His banner of love over our head for all to see. It's a sacred invitation into a certain death for the sake of knowing His love more intimately and for the service of displaying it more gloriously.

And if tempted to refuse the privilege, let us remember these two things: this life is so much more freely, joyfully lived when we have finally learned to count ourselves dead to it and alive to Christ, and the flow of His agape love through us will only be as strong as what it costs us to demonstrate it. The greater the cost, the purer the love; the purer the love, the more we are made like Him; the more we are made like Him, the more attuned we will be to His own heart's breaking and to our own breaking of it.

Oh, that we might be purged of ever thinking again that our neglecting of His love does not matter to Him! May He cause our hearts to break and break until we see how much it does! May we know the world's rejection again and again until we are finally scoured clean of our own despicable tendency to reject Him in favor of all our worldly playthings! No lover has ever endured more rejection than our Lover at our own hands and by our own hearts. And no lover continues to love through rejection with the determination and desire, suffering and sacrifice, tenderness and tenacity of our own Bridegroom. Can we not endure whatever He has called us to suffer for Him? Can we not allow it to drive us more fervently to His heart?... Lord, capture us by Your mighty hand and consume us by Your mighty flame, and may we pant and pine only for You, for Your love sets us free to dance in the midst of the fire!

How humbling, mystifying and worship-evoking it is to realize that the One we have so grievously rejected is the same One Who so perfectly understands and longs to comfort our own heart's grief when we are rejected. And to not run to Him now for that fellowship of healing would be to reject Him all over again and to break His heart once more. What could hurt Him more than our stubborn resistance to share in both His sufferings and His comfort when there is so much joy and intimacy waiting to be had with Him? Whatever ache our own heart knows, however deep and scathing, it cannot compare to the ache of His own heart when we let anything pull us away from Him, for He is rightly EVERYTHING to us—Father, Husband, Lover, Best Friend, Brother, Confidante, Kindred Spirit, Counselor, Nurturer, Rescuer, Healer, Hero... Behind the pain of every rejection is a legitimate need or desire that He is waiting to fill in us, and we have to let Him get to it by dying to our fleshly ones.

Or do we suppose that we might ever find true and lasting joy apart from dying to ourselves and abiding in Him when He died so that we might fully live in the joy of that abiding? No, true joy will only follow abiding; abiding and dying walk hand in hand, and rejection throws open the door for all three. Man's rejection is central to God's wooing, for it shatters our false expectations of human love and stirs in our hearts the longing for a perfect one. So let us not shrink back fearfully from that which can do us such good and teach us to love as Christ has loved us. With renewed passion, let us ask Him to wrap every affection of our hearts more tightly around Him that every desire might be united with His own and that we might learn to love in a way that sets our lives and the world around us ablaze!

To be despised and rejected and, still, to love—that is the ultimate triumph of Christ in our hearts, for we are never more like Him, never more full of Him, never more surrendered to His heart and His work than when He pours out His love through us to those who will not love us back. When we can stand in the face of bitter, cutting words, contemptuous looks and shaming mockery and still love fiercely but with a gentle and quiet spirit, we will know without doubt that it is His Spirit moving gloriously through us... Lord Jesus, Who so willingly floods our hearts with Your most precious gift, Yourself (and You are Love!), teach us to ever know You more and to rely fully on the love You have for us and ARE for us in infinite supply. Teach us to feast on the abundance of that love, and let it flow freely out of us to the ones who would reject, scorn, mock and hate us, so that they too might one day taste and be consumed by Your perfect love which drives out all fear—Your infinite, immeasurable love which heals all wounds and fills all emptiness and gives meaning to all of our pain. You alone, O LORD, are able to truly and purely love through rejection, but You live gloriously in us, so unleash Your mighty waters through us. Your love is everything, for You are Everything!...

Our all-sufficient Bridegroom is able to work His agape love most perfectly in us when that love poured out to another is not ever reciprocated, for it forces us to finally let Him fill us with Himself alone and to rely completely on His love instead of on the love of another to meet our heart's deepest hunger. The need for His filling IS our deepest hunger, and so our soul comes most alive not when it is loved by our fellow man but when it receives and pours out Jesus' love to our fellow man, expecting nothing in return but more of Him. Thus His love is made complete in us whether they ever love us back or not, and the fear of their rejection is eventually driven out by His perfect and perfecting love.

Even if love is never returned...never even received...it is never in vain, for "love never fails." To love someone, though we mean nothing to them, may seem too cruel a burden for the heart to bear, but the only thing worse than not being loved is to not love, and so the greatest tragedy of love spurned or lost would be to stop loving. For to cease loving that which causes us pain would be to let the pain win, but for as long as we love, really love with Christ's own heart, no matter what else happens, we win.

Love without pain remains unproven and, therefore, is meaningless, but love through pain invokes nothing less than the miraculous and inspires even the incredulous. The purer one's love, the more pain it causes when it is rejected, but only continued love can redeem the pain of loving, and only a perfect Love can heal love's scalding wound; the more scalding the wound, the better primed it is to receive that perfect Love fully into it.

There is great romance to be found in unrequited love that keeps loving, though it is beyond any human emotion or fleshly capacity or mortal understanding. It is a most sacred mystery which cannot be grasped with the head or even the heart but only with the spirit, for it is a love whose connection to Christ remains unsevered. There is perhaps no intimacy to compare to it, for it drives us to Him like nothing else will. It is a love whose longing for the other gives us the greatest insight into God's own aching longing for us. Only when it has cost us everything to keep loving do we begin to understand the smallest fraction of the wildly extravagant love Christ has for us or of the brutally scandalous pain which it has cost Him, and it will leave us in utter awe of Him and in love with Him like we have never been before.

As our focus is turned more and more toward His love for us and toward all of our previous rejecting of it, we will come to clearly see that agape love and rejection have everything to do with the the hearts of the lover and the rejecter and nothing to do with what the beloved and the rejected have done or deserve. For obviously we have done nothing to deserve God's love and He has nothing to deserve our rejection, yet He never stops loving us and we keep rejecting Him in ways we can't even comprehend. No one has ever known more rejection than the only One Who is completely worthy of love. Every time we sin we reject Him in favor of something else, but still He loves us without fail and without end. He loves us because He is love and because He has chosen to set His love on us. We are absolutely and irrevocably loved and accepted in Christ Jesus, and nothing and no one can ever change or mar that love. Our identity is completely secure in Him simply because of Who He is and who He says we are to Him.

Therefore no amount nor depth of rejection by anyone changes anything about who we are in Christ or our worth to Him. We do not need any man's love or acceptance to validate our worth, for it has already been established in the heavenly realms by the only One Whose verdict carries any real and lasting weight. We are significant and precious and holy to God regardless of what anyone else thinks of us or says of us or does to us. What has their rejection got to do with us? Nothing, for we are His! We are chosen and we are beloved! And so we are freed from the fear of rejection when we see that it cannot define us or taint us in the sight of the only One Whose opinion or judgment matters. It's a glorious thing to finally care what no man thinks of us, only the Master, for then we begin to be free to love all men as He loves them and to pray with deepest sincerity, humility and fervor even for those who spitefully reject us.

And even for that one who has hurt us most deeply, who has crushed our heart and thrown us to the wind like chaff without so much as a glance back, we will pray, no longer with only a slight and distant hope that he would return to us but now with a passionate desire to see the prodigal return to the heart of the Father. We will pray, not with a focus on life with him but with a focus on life for him. We will pray for a total and glorious restoration of his life to Christ, even if we will never be there beside him to share in the fellowship and joy of his homecoming, even if we will never get to experience up close in this life the thrill of seeing the Lord make something beautiful yet of his ashes. And this may be the hardest and truest test of our love for him—this painful sacrifice of desiring his absolute best apart from us. It is a wrenching blow to our pride and to our will (not to mention our codependence), for we had so longed to play the Muse and to awaken that beauty in him. So we know we could never yearn or pray for this out of our own strength or wisdom; it is simply too painful to our flesh. We must be led into it and through every delicate step of it by our loving Redeemer, our Bridegroom, as if He were leading us out under a canopy of the starry host and into the most intricate and intimate of moonlit dances. And so we begin to pray and to dance...

But even wrapped in Jesus' arms we are clumsy, stumbling miserably over our own feet. The music is perplexingly unfamiliar and the steps wildly unpredictable, and our toes feel terribly pinched in these new shoes. Maybe this dance is just too hard for us. Maybe we are not yet ready. Maybe we should sit it out for now and try again later when our shoes are a little more broken in or when our heart is a little less broken apart. So we pull away...

But He tenderly beckons us back: Dear and beloved bride, broken-but-beautiful one whom I have made My own, do not push Me away now, not after I have brought you so far. I have many more secrets to share with you and so much more to show you of Myself. But you are not letting Me lead this dance, beloved. Why are you so rigid in My embrace? Why so worried over the next steps? Let go of everything and abandon yourself to My love. Enjoy Me...Follow Me...Lean into Me...Keep watching My face...Let Me move you however I desire us to go...Trust Me...Love Me. Shall we dance, then?

Yes, we shall and we do! As He draws us into Himself, into the prayer of His heart and the dance of His Spirit, and as we give ourself over completely to the impulse of His leading, the details of our words and the precision of our steps give way to the desire and passion of His will, and the pulsating of our heart swirls to the rhythm of His own. The further He pulls us into union with Himself, the more we find ourselves desiring this same intimacy-with-Him for the very one who has so badly hurt us, for we see how badly he himself is hurting without it. We realize now that his running away from us and toward another is just as much a reflection of his insatiable yet misunderstood craving for God as was all of our running toward our own idols (including him). Our soul aches for his redemption and his healing and for his lost sheep's heart to be brought out of darkness and into the marvelous light that shines from Jesus' face, that he might truly know the pleasure of knowing the One Whose pleasure he was created for.

Somehow, through this heightened and mysterious intimacy of prayer for him, we are now discovering a strange and new kind of intimacy with this very one whose intimacy had so often given us the slip, this one whom we had so long loved and lived with but failed to uncover at all, and the fresh wind of it drives us even deeper into the ache of God's own heart for him and for us. It is at the center of that ache that we are finally able to let go of the hurt and the man and leave the matter entirely in God's hands, understanding that the Shepherd's aching heart knows fully all whom He has chosen and will never stop dealing with or seeking after any of His own sheep. And so...


                        We release to Him with a heart of trust
                        This one whom we love and always must
                        We can let go the man and rest because
                        It's out of our hands and always was



But the dance, like the feast, goes on and on, and the more we dance and the more we feast, the more we heal. Our Bridegroom wounds us by His own providence but washes our wounds with His faithfulness and binds them up with His love. The wounds and their healing make us beautiful to Him. They teach us to know Him, to hunger for Him, to enjoy Him and to please Him. And they get us perfectly ready for that most glorious of dances and that most joyous of feasts which are still to come but, perhaps, much closer than we might dare to imagine. It is time to awaken, dear bride of Christ, and to break in our dancing shoes!
~~~


"And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him. This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because He first loved us."
~ 1 John 4:16-19

"And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."
~ Romans 5:2b-5

"As you come to Him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to Him— you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ."
~ 1 Peter 2:4-5

"He was despised and rejected by mankind,
    a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
    He was despised, and we held Him in low esteem.
Surely He took up our pain
    and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God,
    stricken by Him, and afflicted.
But He was pierced for our transgressions,
    He was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on Him,
    and by His wounds we are healed."
~ Isaiah 53:3-5

"But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things... I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death..."
~ Philippians 3:7-8a,10

"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."
~ 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

"For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ."
~ 2 Corinthians 1:5

"'Blessed are you who hunger now,
    for you will be satisfied.
Blessed are you who weep now,
    for you will laugh.
Blessed are you when people hate you,
    when they exclude you and insult you
    and reject your name as evil,
        because of the Son of Man.
Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, because great is your reward in heaven. For that is how their ancestors treated the prophets...But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you...Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.'"
~ Luke 6:21-23,27-28,36

"Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always strive to do what is good for each other and for everyone else. Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus."
~ 1 Thessalonians 5:15-18

"You make known to me the path of life;
    You will fill me with joy in Your presence,
    with eternal pleasures at Your right hand."
~ Psalm 16:11

"I pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen."
~ Ephesians 3:16-21

~~~
I talk words of lust
with a boy unaware
I know not if it's unjust
if he knew that i would dare

To be touching lips with another
and another after that
3 boys who want me
and on top of that...

an ex-lover who awaits
her love to be reciprocated
by one she had wronged
by me, yes, I she has wronged.

and alas, the sister of a friend
whom i am confused upon
if i should love her or not
fool, you may think that she is the last one

another girl at school
she is but a year older
i see her from time to time
rarely i seek for her

she is but a crush
the sister, but a dream
the ex-lover - such a waste
and though it may seem

that i am an adultress
because of all these men
but judge me not
i don't belong to any of them

commit, you say
it is for the best
but if i do so again
i may have to rip out my chest

it hurts beyond words
and the pain - i may not be able to bare
and i'd have to swallow the hurt again
till i am too numb to give a care

so tell me, kind stranger, what would you do?
if you had 3 boys and 1 girl loving you
another girl, you might love
and another girl, as a crush
don't you think it's a tad bit too much?

though, i can't control it
I need to be reassured
that though my love betrayed me
this broken vessel be cured

by something more real
it has to exist
something i wont be afraid to love
something far greater than a kiss

something others cant take from me
something thats just mine
something that i can have
and keep for all time

so tell me, kind stranger, do you take me for a fool?
you think i don't know that such thing is hard to find?
that it is but impossible
because i am still so blind

i'll find my happiness
i pray to the gods i do
but only once i stop thinking of finding it
is when id find you

you. whom i have poured my heart and soul out to
without giving a rat's ***
one i'm not afraid of - i'm afraid of everything.
you, who is not wearing a mask.

if you tell me that you're right there
id lose all faith in man kind
because i know you're not
i know that now.

if you tell me you wont hurt me
don't say another word
because i know you will hurt me
i know that now.

but i can love myself
i can live for myself, too
i know that now
i don't exactly have to live for you.

it is my life
this is my world
but i'm lonely
because i'm too scared to be that broken hearted girl

the one who cried
the one who swore
and hit her lover
and walked out the door

even if i could
i wouldn't change a thing
because through this mangled heart
i can love true again

someday..
March 17, 2011
Deep Thought Jan 2017
This is for my generation.
  A generation full of selfies, in short for selfish.
  A generation of women murdering their own unborn babies.
Woman walk around half dressed hoping a man will grant them respect.
As they reclaim their lives, renaming it feminism at it's best.
This is for my generation.
A generation of men that rather play with their hands.
Rather than creating work out of their bare hands.
Lusting for women as if we were created for one night stands.
We are the millennials.* We're *full of worldly distractions.
Looking for our parents to be the lending tree.
Since we spend most of our money on ***** & ****.
This is for my generation.
Can't you see we're slowly dying off? We are becoming too self involved.
While every pleasure keeps causing our own demise.
We're too stubborn to realize our ways are flawed.
We mask it and look for love in other people. Yet, we feel emptier when the love isn't reciprocated. Some call this "unrequited love".
This is for my generation.
I'm here to tell you that, you are loved, you are cherished, and you can be forgiven. You can be saved, not by your works or how much money you make.
If you only believe what He did for you on the cross.
The perfect blood Atonement.
We are the Godless generation. Most would say they believe in evolution, perhaps others would mention God.
This is for my generation.
See, Jesus didn't come for the religious people. In fact, he called them frauds. He's more than just a bunch of rules and laws. In reality, He only came to save the lost. Which lead him to be hated, beaten and killed on a cross. 3 days later, He rose from the dead something Allah never did.
Now that our King is risen, He's offering a free gift of salvation. That's why it's called Grace. Being coming Christian doesn't make you perfect, don't get it twisted. I'm just a forgiven sinner by His definition.

**The choice is yours.
God selects what Man neglects.
Fantasizing
Feeling
Needing
Something scarce is eating at my melancholy.
As I deliberate, a vigor burns beneath my blood.
I get so warm thinking about his hands griping my hips.
My cheeks flush at the thought of his skin pressed heavily against mine.
Unalloyed ecstasy
His subsistence is the key that reveals my coffer.
I beg to feel his breathing
For him to cognize how much I want to gratify his every desire.
Slow motion when I fantasize.
A room bursting of fine riches I could erupt with gratification.
A gentleman who can pleasure me both with innocence and sensuality.
Rarity that comes as one.
He demonstrates loves configuration, he bestows complexity and certainty.
One could ****** with the thought of his supportive charisma.
I weaken at the awareness of his reciprocated needs.
The definition of love is embraced through his actions.
Bleeding perfection, he is untouchable.
He makes me feel amity.
He is the dream I want to feel as I shut my eyes at dusk.

I can sense him so close,
yet when I open my eyes
I’m alone.

He is what every women searches for.
Jimmy Desire Jul 2014
I often disregard the fact that people affect me the way they do
whether it be good or bad, I just can't shake the fact that people matter
So I'm really astonished by the fact that good people
or anyone really, are treated badly
Is it that we forget the Golden Rule at a certain age
such as when adolescence hits and our selfishness consumes us
or when things gets so bad that it's depression you can't escape
whatever it maybe, whoever it maybe
don't you think they'd appreciate a little kind-heartedness?
even if it ain't reciprocated,
even if they hate you,
even if they harm you,
look into the core of their soul
and let them know,
how their actions only reflect
how much hurt they have endured
and the fact of the matter is,
that they are loved,
it's ensured
even if they aren't.
many thanks for reading, share it around if you like it!
Sabila Siddiqui Aug 2019
Eid Al Adha;
Eid of Sacrifices
and the celebratory end of Hajj.

Purity abides around their heart
as souls are blessed with the
sown seeds of joy.

Allah hu Akbar;
takbir echoes
as devotees congregate in
every mosque nearby.

They wear embellished clothes,
extending their hearts to one another
and capturing the ecstasy
in every single encounter.

Sentiments are reciprocated,
and gratitude is manifested
on such an occasion
as we recall the origins of the
reason we sacrifice;
and that is to follow the order of Allah,
as Prophet Ibrahim did.
sayona Apr 2015
i'm deeply sorry that your childhood was tainted. it saddens me to say that your innocence was stripped from you at such a young age. no one should ever have to have their purity and innocence forcefully taken from them. but you are letting your past become a fog within you, and you are allowing it to cloud up your lungs. you keep coughing on apologies that you shouldn't be giving and all the reasons why you think it happened. nothing can justify what happened. you were a child and in no way shape or form could it have ever been your fault. when you hold these type of grudges you let them hold power over you. and no one should ever have the ability to do so. forgive them. not for their sake, but for your own.

i want to apologize to you for always apologizing to the people that never even deserved it. you shouldn't have ever had to give an apology to someone simply for telling them that they draw you to them like magnets draws in metals and how the moon draws in and out the tide. you shouldn't ever have to apologize for seeing all of their flaws as another depiction of beauty. you shouldn't ever have to apologize to someone for loving them. don’t it again.

don't beat yourself up over him. i know. i know that he was exactly the poem that you wanted to write and i know that mystery increases dopamine in the brain and that's why you enjoyed his presence. i know that he made you smile and his goofy laugh made you happy and that the butterflies that flew away for the winter so long ago came back every time he spoke your name, but you know what? he's not it. and i know. i know that it hurts that the feelings aren't reciprocated. i know it stings, that it kinda feels like someone is pouring salt right into the middle of one of your cuts knowing that another one doesn't feel the way that you do, but you can't force pieces that don’t fit and you just can't force feelings that aren't there. right now i'm apologizing on his behalf because he was blind. by what? who knows, but for whatever reason, he just couldn't see it, but i do.

i'm sorry that all you were fed your whole entire life up until now were insults. you shouldn't have had to scarf all of the toxicity down. the words didn't sit quite right with your stomach so all you did was throw them right back up. and i'm very well aware of the fact that you had to bathe yourself in self pity and wash your hair in humiliation. i mean, no one should ever have to shower with the eradication of their own self confidence. things shouldn't work like that. you clothed yourself in self hatred and slipped self doubt upon your feet because they all made you feel like you weren't good enough. that you weren’t pretty enough. that every single one of your flaws outweighed every ounce of genuinity and kindness that was stored inside of you. well **** them. all of them. because you're gold. you are gold while all they'll ever be is rusted copper. listen to me, your body is the house that you grew up in, don't you dare try to burn it down to the ground.

you've always been the one to try to help. always the sincere one, always the one who easily gave empathy and comfort to others. but always have you been the one to be taken advantage of. because people mistake your kindness and generosity, but just let it be known that you'll choke them with the same hand you fed them with. and i don't mind you helping people, but the next time you lend out your hand, and someone grabs your arm, there's going to be a problem. you are not a giving tree. you do not let me people just take and take from you simply because of the fact that you feel bad for them. not everyone is as genuine as you are. remember that.

for the love of everything good, QUIT BITING YOUR TONGUE you hold so much back when you have so much to say. your thoughts are important. your words are important. how you feel is important. you were given a tongue for a reason. please, by all means, use it. you've been biting your tongue for so long that i'm not sure if you even realize you have one anymore. silence is not always pleasant. it's one of the loudest noises anyone can constantly be surrounded by. and let me tell you, silence is extremely deafening when it's the only thing you hear. speak up.

i know that words aren't always enough and i know i can't take away what happened years ago. i can't completely take away the hurt. i can't make you forget all of the rude remarks and the taunting and the insults. i can't get inside of other people's heads and make them stop trying to take advantage of you, and i can't allow people to hear you if you don't speak.

but what i will do, i will help you to move on from the ugliness of your childhood. i will tell you time and time again that you can't say sorry for feelings because they're just that, feelings. i will tell you that someone will like your quirkiness one day just as much as you like theirs. i will tell you time and time again that you are not weak because your heart is heavy. i will tell you until my lips grow tired, until it becomes your reality. i will tell you that the only people that you should focus on making happy is yourself. because guess what? you’re not a nutella jar so therefore you can’t please everyone. i will help you become better at picking out the genuine ones and i will help you to speak up. because one day, your hands won’t tremble and your feet won’t falter at the sight of him and your voice will not rattle when you go to speak. i shall help you to realize that your words matter. just like everyone else’s. none of it will be as easy as it sounds, but you know what they say, a smooth sea never made a skilled sailor.

chin up buttercup.
some of these quotes and sayings are things that i have stumbled upon on tumblr, or twitter, or elsewhere.
Lee Apr 2017
The day the ships came my ancestors we not of the aware of the forced melting *** that would come into existence
The combination of french and spanish confused the delta slaves
Little did they know that neither language would stick on their burnt excuses of  tongues
The days the ships came New Orleans became the beacon of mulatos
And although the conquistadors could **** and beat their slave wives
Their spanish advances were not reciprocated due to lack of of heat to complete the melting
The languages that conquered the delta were combined into something that no outsider would want to encounter
That’s why the Americans came and took it like they did the rest of the country
They mistake the magic for voodoo then rebranded it for themselves
Centuries later the delta is still a melting ***
But it’s one my grandmother’s tongue was forced to forget
Her languages were lost next to her mulatto slave ancestors, left to spoil
So now when people ask
“If you’re hispanic why can’t you speak spanish?”
I can barely find the words in english to explain the years of torture my tongue has endured
When spanish speaking couples walk into my work
My tongue is eager to spill words it wishes it had the ability to create
My blood begins to hate itself over the fact that a third of itself is unrecognizable
My tongue is still waiting for the new boats to arrive and reconcer it
All it knows is to be conquered
No self defense here
When all you know is to be conquered
It becomes a challenge to think for oneself
My tongue can’t decide if english, spanish or french is better
My creole mind is yelling thousands foreign curse words not knowing which one is a true sin
Maybe the sin here is letting the burner stay on too long
The day the ships came
My slave ancestors looked at their spanish lovers and said
“My love, what shall we do once the french arrive?”
With their eyes looking into the horizon the conquistadors replied
“Es no problema para mi, pero tu, tu es la propiedad de estos”
Which according to simple history books means
“Good luck”
Canaan Massie Oct 2012
Long days seem so much longer.
Distance does not make the heart grow fonder.
You’ve conquered the empire of my subconscious.
Your crusade so short,
Yet I hope your reign continues for eons.

We’re far past passive flatteries,
Instead, we fill each other’s hearts with vows.
You mean them now,
But what about a few months?
What if you decide I’m not what you want?

The torment I am slowly approaching,
Consumes my distant soul.
I can hear the sounds of futuristic loathing,
From when you decide this love has taken it’s toll.

So tell me.
How can I pay this inevitable toll?
How can I save us from Cupid’s malicious tyranny?

His arrow is too far lodged within me,
I cannot remove it.
I can only push it farther and farther
Into my heart until it falls out of my back.

But this arrow, trenchant.
Cupid, the sharpest of marksmen.
Yet colorblind, he is.
He sees not what colors his targets represent.
He draws his bow for the pure love of marksmanship.

Sometimes, yet not often,
He will hit the intended target.
But the odds are scarce.
His subjects are often punctured,
And connected to one whom reciprocated Fate’s desire.

Yet this time…
This time…
Cupid must have hit a target of Fate’s approval.
For thrice he has missed.
This time He and Fate are in sync.

This wound may stretch over time,
But the arrow shall remain firmly lodged within my *****,
***** and immovable.
Until you kick it through my backside.

But until then,
I can only endure.
I can only be woo wounded.
I can only survive,
Another ambush of the militant called Cupid.


But I will do it for you,
For by you,
I’ve been so divinely seduced.
Wooed by your lips.
Not by your kiss,
But by the music,
Which your mandibles so express.

I desire not to seal this wound,
But to evade its’ repercussions.
For I have endured a similar wound thrice.

He is winged as if an angel,
Yet Was Lucifer not once an angel as well?

Cupid is an impostor.
A spy of Agony, himself.
He prays on the young, the old, the strong, and the weak.
He cares not who he obliterates in his crusades.
He is a bloodthirsty heathen.
He makes scoundrels of Saints,
And Harlots of Housewives.
Saint Valentine is no Saint.
He is Satan’s nightmare.

At first, his arrows are ecstasy,

But like a cancer,
His poison-saturated arrows
Seep deep within every crevice of your body.
They consume you as if enriched with ******.
And eventually rot within your *****
Until it is nothing but dust and a memory.
One day I will assassinate Fate’s Malicious militant,
The one we call Cupid.
Àŧùl Dec 2012
You're Cute

And so the verdict was passed,
She liked just a couple of my poems,
I visited her page and reciprocated,
Just like her cuteness was as well in her poems.


:-)
Dedicated to Amanda Fletcher
http://hellopoetry.com/-amanda-fletcher/
Ekym Reyotem Jan 2019
Throughout the course of this life, I, just like you, have made my fair share of mistakes. To compensate for this & also out of a fear of letting others down or causing pain or suffering to anyone other than myself, over the years I have tried to hone to almost perfection, the habit of seeing down the line when it comes to the decisions I make and the chances I take.
But alas, no one is perfect, especially not I.

Although I was compelled to grow up long ago, I feel as though I am still a young man, a young man with old values. Values like honor, loyalty, dignity and a wonderful sense of shame. A trait which I feel compliments the first three aforementioned values quite well.
Traits far removed from the gooey 'Quick’mix’d Battered' personalities we find ourselves standing shoulder to shoulder with in the oven of today’s irreversible societal meltdown. Everyone seems to have forgotten to teach their off-spring of that which makes life worth living & keeps the world turning. Which is of course, living for others just as much as we live for ourselves. Unfortunately, due to the selfish pace of today, rarely is anyone noticed for their gestures towards humanity. The reason for this phenomenon, being of course; Man Kinds evolution into the Narcissistic Vampire he is today. And as a result of this, not only do our efforts towards one another merely go unnoticed & unappreciated, it's far worse than that, courtesy is no longer even recognized for what it is, is rarely reciprocated, and has thus been phased out completely. And as a result of this; Man Kinds new triumphant mutation, 'The All-consuming Ego', is free to simply **** the meaning out of all that was once so valuable to the fabric of human society, while arrogantly presuming to be deserving of it all anyways, regardless of it's contribution to anyone or any thing.
Now the ego acts as a new type of biological O rgan,
an invisible 'Iron Lung'. Processing the very niceties that once separated us from the beasts, as if they were just like any other natural resource. But there is a difference & that difference is that these are human resources and in my opinion are just as valuable as the air we breathe, and just as nourishing as the sweet waters we drink. Manners are things to be noticed, cherished and savored. They are decency's. Gifts, that when given & returned, should impart on us the feeling of being recognized for our own decency and our own efforts towards our fellow man.
However, since Man has placed his Ego at the forefront, where once stood the Human Heart, 'It' now sits at the receiving window of human courtesies, absorbing and indifferent. So instead, it all goes unnoticed, unrecognized and underappreciated just like a gulp of air and is simply exhaled without a second thought, or a shred of gratitude as to how precious it really was.

If you were able to ask a fish, to name one thing which It considered to be both the most obvious aspect of his environment and also the thing most essential to the survival of its species, the last thing it will mention is the water.
Ask a man today the same question, but replace the words “his environment” with “humanity” and the last thing He will mention is another human being.

But I digress…

You'll have to excuse me. I am after-all a true romantic in every sense of the word and I have always been quite partial to dramatic effect.
I consider myself a realist, a term all too often confused with having a negative outlook. I beg to differ. In a world gone mad, I just prefer to keep my eyes wide open and my head in the game, as opposed to having it shoved all the way up my own a$$ like most. And although the world may not be so pretty out here, at least it’s real, as am I.
Allow me to make something abundantly clear, I never have been, nor will I ever be, anyone special.
And being aware of these facts is still far better than pretending that both of them are anything other than just that, facts.
I find no comfort in self-congratulation, delusions, or deliberate oblivious ignorance.
I am what I am.

What more can I say?
Another year come and gone and just like the rest of the world, it seems things for me too have only grown worse.
I am full of regret, all old, and none new. And for the exceptions of my Daughter and the Almighty Himself, I apologize for nothing and to no one else. After a lifetime of experiences and lessons learned, all that I am truly certain of, is that I am still here. And unfortunately, so are most of you.
And I am also still standing. Upright, with both feet planted firmly in reality and God willing, that is exactly how I intend to remain. There is not one ****** thing in this world which I have any control over and everything I have ever wanted, I have never gotten, and everything I have ever had, has been taken from me.
And yet here I remain, standing till the day I die. And when that day comes, the depth of the grave will have to be dug twice as deep, so as to bury me upright & on my feet.
Immovable-
Sam Oliver May 2010
To pardon my French,
Karma is a *****.
A ***** that
Does not exist.

People are never
Rewarded
For good deeds;
Good intentions.
They only suffer
More for them.

Not that
Anything I've done
Was for personal gain.

No.
I am poor.
I am content
To be poor.

My only longing
For monetary gain
Would be to
Support
The ones I love.

My goal in life
Is simple:
Love.

But,
Alas,
Karma is a *****.
A ***** that
Does not exist.

Giving love
Gets hate
In return.

I could argue
That I have gained
More people to
Love,
But that is null.
It is never
Reciprocated.

So why do I love?

I cannot help it.
I'm wired that way.

No man,
No woman,
No tragedy,
No act of God
Can change that.

A man of true value
Remains true to the grave.

Karma is a *****.
It should be put out of its misery.
Emily Feb 2014
When you were heartbroken
I showered you with affection
I gave you all of my love
I allowed you to forget about all the bad
And start loving your life again

When you felt worthless
I made you feel confident
I reminded you of your beauty
I got you to feel ****
And start loving yourself again

But what you did to me
Was something much different
You drained me of all my love
Made me feel unwanted by you
My efforts were never truly reciprocated
And you gave me up like I was nothing

You made me hate my life
You made it impossible for me
To wake up in the morning
Much less do anything else
You made me hate myself
© Willa 2014
Rafael Torres Sep 2018
A whole new spiral,
Trees upon a coil,
Ink from leagues,
Written feathers,
Drizzled down as oil,
Evermore,
Nevermore,
Less is more,
All.
Reverse inside-out,
Springs before fall,
Trojan powered horses,
Mother Nature's fickle,
In life we really are all,
Trapped within a pickle...
Steal the base,
Capture the flag,
Always run the risk,
Chess played on a checker board,
Hands turned into fists...
The endless stairs,
Rise & fall,
Chutes & ladders,
Poles,
Elevated,
Reciprocated,
Orbital magnetic pull...
This way,
That way,
Three rights make a left,
Two of either,
Horizontal shift,
Four times,
Stuck in circles...
Full Moon,
Half Moon,
Crescent Moon,
**** cheeks...
Face cheeks,
Two lips,
Uranus,
**** facts...
The Owl asks "Who?"
Not how many licks,
Cracked.
Tongue twister,
Riddle fister,
******* fcking dcks...
Creation.
Destruction.
Under construction,
Living life,
Chasing death,
Don't forget to function...
Playing hooky,
Hooked on phonics,
Telephone,
Hello?
Lose the "O",
Cheerios,
Rolled away,
Hell.
Pacific Bell,
Pack Bell,
Liberty Bell,
Cracked.
Xs,
Os,
Hugs,
Kisses,
Followed crumbs,
Smacked...
Cacophony of words,
Magnified to deaf,
Pantomime,
Mr. Mime,
Jynx,
Hypnotic crest...
Abra,
Kadabra,
Apply directly to the forehead...
Water your brain,
Fertilize,
Extra fries,
Exercise...
A to Z,
1, 2, 3...
F*cking A,
We say...
Today is here,
The end is near,
All come here to stay...
Escape rope untethered,
Weather altered sky day.
Gaze at stars,
Hollywood floor,
Rich,
Poor,
More...
Life is great,
Life is crap,
You decide,
Not me...
Cause all I see,
Is cacophony...
No sense inside of "we"...
Here we are,
We've come so far,
RELAX...
Have fun at last...
Half full,
Half empty,
Shattered...
At least we have the glass......
Written: 8/4/2018. 6:09 PM. A whole new spiral, trees upon a coil refers to writing in a new notebook, after my other having been filled. The rest literally.. unspiraled..
ogdiddynash Jul 2018
daily provisioning

wallet  watch  testicles  spectacles
cash (single bills) cell phone
bottle of water   hairbrush with vanity attached,
personal technology baggie
(earbuds, variety of charging cords etc.)
loose change in order to fall from pockets & annoy yourself
sunglasses (idiot! summers half over) and something else...

pocket tissues!

skin and bone, muscle, all flavors and multilayers,
a language of music only you hear,
the pumping station internal, the gaga motion
product of the palette of body following souled emotions,
the antacid pills after that burrito;
and that strangely named thang called

libido?

your teeth  your smile, your shyest guile,
to catch that lady’s hopefully.        
reciprocated pearly whites delight,
pen and pad to record being a sad and mad good lad,
a Swiss Army knife if the tube or bus
should (will) breakdown,
your tiny little bottles of
inspiration  perspiration and perspective,
that you forgot to

label

the list to do and the list
to add to the to do list
and good heavens,
a serious writing utensil
to fool yourself when
thinking serious thoughts like

these

the last but should be first,
the house keys!!
keys just an enabler
to do it all again

tomorrow  




July 11, 2018  10:22pm
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)

But I remain a believer in my ancestral religion
Whose God is wele but not the Germany world, it is a religion,
Like most of universal ancestral ones,
With appalling moral threshold,
When Elijah Masinde of dini ya Misambwa
Despised those who condemned man as notoriously religious
He meant human religious approach to life is absolute in nature
However diverse religions compete for human ears
Rich ones glorified in the luring away of modal ears
But all are devoid of spiritual impetus
Disappointing the progenitors of religious imperialism
These short-cutters in matters of sanctimony
Will not come to our heaven
They will get me sharing a cup of tea
With my sister- in-law; Mary, the mother of Jesus
And I will shun them, I will not know them
I will not invite them to a heavenly cup of tea
They will be suffocated by cadaverous appetite,
For we honor our religion with ancestral regard;
The Faith of Our Ancestors
But in ridicule they call us kaffirs, pagans, christo-pagans,
Animists, atheists, gentiles, non-believers, mediumists,
Rebellious rebels or whatsoever they call us;
The anti-muhamedan-mis-christologists,
                                                              Let them delude themselves,
If they disparage us with sick contumely
Abreast the dumbfounding development in sciences
Plus so fortuitous humanistic awareness,
Humanity in Religion has to adjust optimally
Religious masters have to help
Interpret the religious Books, bible, gita, quran
All Written or verbalistically in the glory of epical orality
In tandem with the best centered
Life extant,
Otherwise selfish religions becomes an old wine bag
With its old and stale wine,
You will persuade Russian carousers to drink
But to your chagrin, none will condone, your stale wine
Do not seek to sell your faith
Because every human community
Has an ancestral faith
Respect them all for that is gods in their accolade of
Omonipresecence,
Any man or woman without religion is dangerous
                                                But do not advantagize yourselves
At the expense of people of other faiths
It is  good you reciprocated
Planet earth is our only sure and known abode
If we lived well here, and there is another world
For those who will be good, we hope the conclave of Gods
Would all sit in judgment for their credit
And reward those who helped humble humanity
Of their religions as well as those of other religions
As for all the Gods love humanists.
Nena Twedell Oct 2014
We're two puzzle pieces trying to fit together perfectly
Secretly hoping that my curves and your angles fit together snugly
Except you can never put a square inside of the circle hole on the children's toys
And you can never put a circle in the square hole.
So you whisper sweet nothings in my ear hoping that your love will be reciprocated
Like a lost puppy looking for a home
Crying out for the love it needs to survive.
And I give what I can
but my love isn't quite what you were wanting
You try to drown your sorrows and pain
forgetting that your a puzzle piece
Leaving your edges torn and tattered
I hold you close trying to fix all the damage
But I'm no puzzle maker
You seemed to have forgotten
That we fit together perfectly
Because your head fits perfectly in the crook of my neck
And your arm fits perfectly around my shoulders
Even though the curve of your lips doesn't quite match up with mine
Don't think for a second that I won't hold you close while you try to mend a broken heart.
Nicole Apr 2018
Do I want to kiss you
Because I actually like you
Or I just feel out of control?
I tend to be self-destructive
When nothing in life is going well
And I don't want to drag you into this
I brought up never having drunk kissed someone
Our friend said we should do it
And the idea just stuck in my head
I didn't think it'd be a reciprocated feeling
Because I can't imagine you thinking of me that way
But drunk me decided to offer
Just to let you know I was thinking it
You said you were surprised
I'm not sure why but that's ok
You also said you might accept the offer
But it depends
On what I'm not sure
I just hope it's not awkward at work tomorrow
gemi drey Nov 2013
she sat in her room,
in front of her broken window.
the glass was tinted black.
the metal frame was starting to rust.
the bottom left corner of the window,
was shattered.
shattered by what?
shattered by her fist,
2 years ago.
she could still see,
her blood stains at the ridges.

she sat there on the cold ground,
her hand holding her screams.
she wanted to let everyone hear,
and know,
that she wanted some love,
some attention,
some words of advice.
so she screamed out of that broken window,
but no one heard her.

she sat there on the stone ground,
her hand holding her heart.
she wanted to let everyone see,
and know,
that she wanted someone to understand,
someone to love her,
someone to kiss her cuts.
so she threw it out of that broken window,
but no one saw her.

she sat there on the blood stained ground,
her hand holding her soul.
she wanted to let everyone feel,
and know,
that she wanted her dreams to come true,
her wishes to be fulfilled,
her love to be reciprocated.
so she let it out of that broken window,
but no one felt her.

she sat there on the tear stained ground,
her hand holding herself,
she wanted everyone to smell,
and know,
that her hair smelled like rose and lilies,
that her clothes smelled like lemon and rosemary,
that her skin smelled like strawberries and cream.
so she freed herself out that broken window,
but no one smelled her.

she sat there on the heartless ground,
her hand holding her dreams,
she wanted everyone to taste,
and know,
that her favorite food was marshmallows,
that her sweet tooth loved chocolate,
that her kisses tasted like the sun.
so she said goodbye to her dreams out that broken window.
but no one tasted her.

no one cared.
{gemi}
John Ajaka Nov 2013
I want to tell you about love. What it does to you. How it feels when you’re “in” it. What it’s like to lose it, and what it’s like to have it and not be able to show it, or have it but not be able to share it, because it’s not reciprocated.
Love is a strange thing. It’s probably the only thing that’s very obviously real that we have to question the existence of. It’s the only thing that is answered with “I was, but maybe I wasn’t” when asked “have you been in it?”. It’s compiled of essentially every emotion, it’s horrible, but, somehow beautiful. Anger, jealousy, grief, loss, loneliness are to name a few of the negatives of it. But when it’s returned, happiness, joy, ecstasy, and positivity are what is felt.
Love turns you into a ball of unorganized unexplainable emotions, characterized by a feeling of uncertainty and great need. Love yearns to be reciprocated, that’s all it asks for. Do we all ask for it? Probably not considering some of us throw it away like it doesn’t even exist. But we need it to be reciprocated, maybe not the first time, maybe not the second time, who knows you might feel the truest love you’ve ever felt in your life and you won’t get it back at the twentieth time. Love is cruel like that, kind of a joker of some sorts, and yeah, maybe it’s a ***** for that like our old friend karma, but at least karma is always sent back, what comes around doesn’t always go around in love, and when it doesn’t come back around, it can eat away at your heart like an infection that refuses to go away.
Sometimes, we lose love, we had it and it was amazing, but we lose it, and it’s terrible. It makes you wish you could blow away with the wind, in fact it feels like you are. You feel like you’re hollow inside, as if even the gentle breeze will blow you away. Cold, like your heart has stopped pumping and your body has no choice but to share the temperature of the air around you – cold blooded. Nothing is worth it anymore, and honestly, you feel so dead inside that you choose that to do nothing is better than to do something – nihilistic almost.
But tis better to have loved and lost, than to have never have loved at all, right? To have a deep yearning inside of you that can never be returned by the one you love, that is true torture. You can beat me, you can hold me down, you can leave me to rot in the darkness, but leave me in love and alone, and that is true horror. A sadness that can’t be fixed, and hole that cannot be filled, to be in love and have no one to share it with is what true sadness is compiled of.
Why even love, it’s horrible, disheartening, depressing, saddening, and just plain bad. **** love it’s pretty much the bane of humanity and the end all of happiness. We should all just give up

But no, don’t give up, whatever you do don’t let go, love is beautiful. It’s bad when we lose it, of course it is; losing anything good is bad. Love is difficult, but it makes it special, and when you finally climb your mountain I promise you, you will be happy, you will feel fulfilled and you will never regret having persevered for your happy ending. Go out, don’t give up, find your love and get it, I believe in you, you deserve your happiness, now go get it.
Richard B Shick Sep 2018
HERE GOSE NOTHING  HOPE YOU LIKE I WORKED ALL DAY ON IT....im sure there will be changes....LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK



Class is in session.
Time to grab your
NoteBooks.
And get,
educated.

Think My words
May Have been forgotten.
Or have they,
just  been
miscommunicated

Can you hear what I'm  saying.
Probably not,
 I'm  Too sophisticated.

Don’t take words I say
And twist them and around.
Til They become
exaggerated.

Or I’ll grab my strap
And ****  it back
take aim
Clack clack
Assassinated.

Watch what you saying,
I don't think your  listening.
Better get to running
Or end up,,,,,,
annihilated.

My mouth has no Limit,
It's automated.
I don't have a filter
To keep me,
regulated.

As you get incarcerated,
I get celebrated
For  every thing I've done.
This I created

So Say Good Bye
to what you
Thought were friends,
We're way gone,
Alienated.

Your Words will get you
Eliminated,
Like a effin cockroach
Just Call me
Mrrrr Orrrrrkin,
Exterminated.


Better watch your back.
I can get real spinal,
Don't get,
  disintegrated.

My words  are truthful
Just like the
Guinness Book of records.
Im authenticated.

I write my own words
Im Never collaborated,
Unless it’s me myself and
I.

Will never be manipulated.
By your abbreviated
Stories,
They're fabricated.

Don’t make me
Hunt you
  I will effin ****** you
Its all ready planned out,
Premeditated.

So Let me make things simple
For you,
Like you are  a caveman.
Uncomplicated.

My  moves they seem so cat like,
Very Quick and nimble.
Im Articulated.

I’ll will destroy you
Don’t get blown away
Like a hurricane,
Decimated.

Can't you see me frozen
I’m cold as ice,
And need.
refrigerated.

Do you see my spot lights
Can you see me
glowing,
While up on stage.
I'm Illuminated.

As you sit here
With an old pass,
Done  expired and no where to go,
invalidated.

You can’t even do math,
Always 3 steps behind,
You know what i Call that.
miscalculated.

Me as being stupid.
Don't try be sneaky
I know Your  every move,
I Anticipated.

Don’t  choke on your words
To where you can’t breath,
With A rope around your neck,
Asphyxiated.

Why must  you be so
opinionated
Are you **** hurt.
Or is your mouth
just.
constipated.

Quick,
give him a trophy
Cause He thinks he won.
But you never,
participated.

How’s it feel to be
Hated,irritated
And,  outdated.
Cause you have no *****.
You've  been Castrated,
Dominated
And, infiltrated
Just Like a waterfall
You've been.

Liquidated.

I Think  you over medicated
Here  come the white coats,
Eyes are dialated
Cause your brain
Has become
Contaminated
Intoxicated and,
Deteriorated.


Think you daddy
Should have just
Masturbated
Then
*******
On
The bed sheets

As he Put a pillow on
Your mom’s face
and she,
Suffocated.

Cause she never
Reciprocated
Or consummated.
Was so stupid and didn't
Swallow.
Got inseminated.

Now
Its time that we end
This.
What I initiated,
Hopefully
I communicated
All these words
That
Have  accumulated.

I tried to be illustrated
And innovated.
Just like
A bomb
That had to be detonated.
I’m out
And cool like a fan
I’m  so oscillated.

To be continued
.........

WRITTEN BY
Richard Shick
Raindrop May 2017
You ask me how brave I am
And I responded with certainty,
“I am brave enough to love deeply
And be foolish in the eyes of many
For I only love and hurt alone.”

I am in love with a young man
Whose courage can never be compared
He makes me fearless; shameless even
Making me dive into this love of mine
Without even thinking if it may be reciprocated

I dared to reach a star like him
Though in the sky, he resides
I dared to go beyond this love
Crossing seas to get a glimpse of him
And now I’m finally close to my dear

Again, you ask me how brave I am
And I looked at you with woeful eyes,
“I am brave enough to let you break me
And let you ****** a dagger into my heart
For you don’t see me the way I see you.
But how brave are you really, love?”
Hopefully brave enough to give me your heart.
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2020
In Their Own Words:

“All I’ve ever learned from love is....”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So come, my friends, be not afraid.  We are so lightly here.
It is in love that we are made.  In love we disappear.  Tho’ all the maps of blood and flesh are posted on the door,  there’s no one who has told us yet what Boogie Street is for.                                     Leonard Cohen

All I've learned from love that it appears on its own timetable,
and, all I've learned from love is, it is the purpose. Harlon Rivers

“is crazy and this is infinite and ever so sobering wondrous possible"
Medusa

It is a paradox of two people - in debit to one another though each may never realise;
and neither one of whom would ever consider recalling the debt. Gideon

A headlong charge into a vast unknown that promises fufillment of every lacy, perfumed dream, but may instead deliver wrenching wounds that only another love can heal. Lori Jones McCaffery

every fantastic mistake I ever really made! Drunk in shallow bar light with a woman of my wicked dreams who laughed as loud as me at our shared ****** jokes we both got. We loved for awhile and then wandered and still loved forever as we found other dim bars with more wicked dreams.                                        gray dot (unknown)

All I have learned from love is to give more than one receives unconditionally.                                                ­K Balachandran


"love is the great equalizer: ignoring age, race, education, wealth, religion, disability, and sanity... simultaneously capable of lifting all to the highest highs and dragging all into the deepest depths. In love there is no pride or ego." forgotten

that just beyond is a hidden trail, where a magical river of the purest water flows free. Here and only here, my heart can be revived, and my mind is stilled by the silence I find. Love’s call is gentle. Joey

“that love is as love does.”
victoria

All I ever learned from love is the meaning of the word, "unconditional!”.           SE Reimer

Sometimes we fall in love, and sometimes love falls on us.
Stephen E. Yocum

it is gentle rage, come like sun through clouds, to feed parched earth....one word to set life a tingle, the first smile of a golden
boy's day.  The last caress before sleep, the letting go of a dying
friends hand and the gathering together of companions for food
and laughter, love comes in many guises, has many faces and is
lifeblood to the soul hiding within.                   betterdays

where the beginnings end and the ends begin.    Elizabeth J.

The burial of fear and all we’ve ever known In hope for a new flourishment.    Dante Rocio

that life flows in abundance of peace, harmony and balance when I
surrender to live in love.                                                            ­    Cné

that love assuages hurt and heals the wounded...it rings with melody
and dances to the heavens.  It’s the divine giving over of body and mind;  it's mystic transcendence an overwhelming feeling of pure ecstasy.                                                         ­                              patty m


that love is a dunghill, and I'm a crow that stands on it and caws.
                                                           ­                           Thomas W Case

Acceptance.  Acceptance of myself and of the ones I love.
                                                           ­                                    Kelly Rose

It is easier to give love than to accept it.         Walter W Hoelbling

was what I learned from her...Love is above, beyond what we all wish, we had to touch the sun, the moon, the stars; everything we have.                                                                            Temporal Fugue

that it is unique; it makes the softest body, hard, and softens the hardest heart.                                                           ­     poetontheroof

Our hearts tied but I don't know how.                       Anonymous

Love has the ability to surpass life. Even though you are gone I still can’t stop loving you. “Love leaves more behind than death ever takes away. “ -unknown.                                        Love Storytelling

to never go searching for it. That's it, I guess.                      Aparna

has been gleamed through the sacrifice and service of a few extraordinary souls.  For true love is borne of sacrifice, and
it compels us to serve.  Without those elements, it cannot exist.
                                                                 J Klein and Sons Pen Parish

it requires curiosity to truly uncover; it is an emotion
that makes us uniquely human.                                        Angelique

that sometimes it hurts and sometimes it thrills, but
love that kills your pain is always worth the dying for.                 r

it is a gift from God, most precious and not to be abused or taken
for granted.                                                         ­ South by Southwest

how to hurt.                                                           Andrew Crawford

is that, it comes like lightning...it jolts, it makes, or breaks a future;
it hangs around, no matter what, if it's meant to be...yours...
all i've learned from love made me a tree, with fruits
with a blend of sour and honeyed truths, it is heaven...
when bared, shared... reciprocated.                            Sally A Bayan

that it is hard and it hurts but we cannot live without it... there is no storybook endings. You take the good and bad and make it what you need.                                                            ­                     Melissa S.

The burial of fear and all we’ve ever known
In hope for a new flourishment. Dante Rocio

that I can’t, won’t, don’t want to ever live life without Love! ♥️ Feeling Love Sparks everyday forever and always ♥️ Loving Love Glass Slipper Girl

to accept it when it is given, to share it when it is felt, to cherish it because it is a gift and that whether it hurts or it heals, it is far better to have experienced it than to not have.                                  BLT

that love is...forever studied; gravity, it is akin to the sense of gravity;
it can never be explained, felt, or experienced, but never grasped in ones hand.                                                            ­              wordvango

that if you have it, you should give it.                                  amanda

how to turn up my face and surrender to the rain.  
                                                         ­             Clementine Valerie Black

that God is love expressed by Jesus, and I'm my best when I imitate Christ.   Christos Victor

the most over analyzed, overwrought word that remains after thousands of years, completely
inexplicable.                                                   ­             onlylovepoetry                  

it's a strength and weakness, ecstasy and agony, a belief and fear (of losing), emotional contradictions yet so intrinsically precious to be worth living and dying for.                          Pradip Chattopadhyay

the emptiness of smothering empathy for all that lives, feels and needs.  It's to bear eternal suffering...                                   Traveler


red.                                                                                                     Fog


to give, far outweighs the take.                                        Mike Hauser


that it lifts open our minds' eyes, overturns our fears in this vast expanse of the unknown - it etherally reveals our connection
Melody

how deep is my ignorance.                                              Joel M Frye

that love has nothing to do with ***. It has everything to do with sick kids at 3am and holding back your friends hair when she pukes in the gutter crying over some ******* who just dumped her. It's selfless.
                                                       ­                                                 Acme

noth­ing compared to what I've learned from pain.                 v V v


the things I’ve never learned.                                               M-E

that is the cancer and the cure; the detour and the straight line; proof of reincarnation and death everlasting; the intersection where extreme selflessness and selfishness meet, becoming indistinguishable; it’s shapeless, nearly invisible, and yet known to everyone; a verb, a noun, a conjunction between and a preposition to a beginning and a dead end.
                                                            ­                               Nat Lipstadt

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thanks to all the participants, so far...(see the note below)
This is an open, living poem; anyone should feel free to message me to add, amend, or delete; just message me directly; won’t modify if you just comment.

one more thing don’t ask me to add an old poem that is only tangentially related: write a max of two or  three sentences that
clearly and directly responds to the title...

format is.deliberately sloppy, just like the subject    
matter.

and the original version (2017)

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2187204/all-ive-learned-from-love-for-leonard/
inkstains Jul 2015
you said love is hard when it's not reciprocated.
(i blinked)

you said it hurts looking at her from the outside in
and that you're tired of being on the sidelines
(i held my breath)

you told me your heart breaks a little,
when she can't take her eyes off him
yet here you are, begging God
for her to spare you a glance - just one.
(my throat tightened)

you said you're lucky to have me,
as your best friend
and i remember exactly how i faked a smile.
that smile was probably the biggest lie i ever told.

and then you asked,
"why do we fall in love with people we can't have?"
(i looked away)

"how do you handle this?"

i inhaled sharply, as i held back my tears;
**"i'll show you how."
//you can't help who you love//
inspired by madisen kuhn
Ady Mar 2014
She hopes, silently, that he will chase her,
catch her in his embrace and smother her
with feverish kisses.
He wants to glance back, towards the stinging
sun, towards the opposite direction she has stayed in
and beacon her with words of licorice.
She wishes to let her voice drown the antagonistic
opposition to their current disposition and listen
attentively to reciprocated admissions.
But they cannot, will not, because
this is not a fairy tale, this is not a fantasy, this
is the sad reality of both decisions.
And so torn apart between letting go or
catching to,
they walk away towards opposite directions.
Yolanda Kassa Jan 2018
The experience of a black woman is one that can not be imitated
Although it is not always enough or even always reciprocated
Her heart is full of love, almost bursting out of her chest
And even when it gets tough, the black woman always tries her best
She longs for an equal who shares her level of intellect
Someone to listen to all her problems and attempt to put them in retrospect
The black woman often fears sharing any of her thoughts
For fear of being labeled the angry black woman, which she’s heard lots
Some black men refuse to date a black woman because of her attitude
But thank you to those strong black men that show them so much gratitude
Sometimes the black woman confidently wears her hair natural
The time she takes to detangle each curl is truly admirable
Other times she doubts her beauty as she is surrounded by Eurocentric guidelines
Men gawk at the beauty of those with straight long hair as she stands on the sidelines
Sometimes the black woman adores all of her god given features
But when she sees the women men covet she feels like an ugly creature
The black woman comes in all different sizes, shapes, and color
And instead of black women competing with one another
They must stand together and see the beauty in being black
So that they can truly understand that beauty is not something that they lack
My sisters, all of my black sisters, thank you for making me feel so human
Because no one understands the experience of black woman like a black woman.
aj Jun 2014
I.
i kept my eyes off.
turning to face away,
as if god might have tapped me on the shoulder,
and told me to let my love smolder.
my eyes followed the distractions,
as they beat on marimbas,
and as i kept his gaze,
it started to feel like
they were beating
my ribcage

II.
heartbeat altered,
i began to falter.
moving my sight from the dancing mallets,
to my lukewarm palms,
that seemed to tear in passion.
in a sudden fashion,
i raised his head
and looked straight at it
with its wary eyes closed,
and i thought,
that i might have heard,
with a rush of raising concerns,
a heart shatter in shallow nearness,
like a shaky hand might have dropped a crystal.

III.
after the shatter,
my heart began to patter,
at a faster tempo in spite of the latter.
it is because of this,
that i promised to never looked again.
Watched someone while attending a percussion ensemble showcase...

— The End —