"reinforces" poems
objectification is very much a cul de sac,
it's a one way street...
to objectify is to
allow an animate object a
confirmation of an all-pervasive control...
objectification =
the inability of an object to become
a self-serving subject -
no hammer ever managed
to self-serve itself into a role of a screwdriver...
to be objectified is to have no
self-serving subject, i.e. a self;
how can a woman ever be "objectified"
when she subjects herself to both
the object (that's her body) and
the subject (that's her mind) -
or, objects to the object stated -
whereby by "objectification" there's
a reinforcement of being subject to the object...
her body, which reinforces her
subjectivity -
when man is prone to objectification,
as pronouncing his extended members,
a woman is prone to subjection -
irony on the ob- prefix,
wasn't it ever reverse infatuation?
sure, not all the subplots appear
in being "objectified" -
but at least being "objectified"
does not equate to being subject to a man's
will...
if you can't deal with
the "extremes": is being "objectified" as bad
as being subject to a niqab?!
besides the point,
i can't believe that one animate thing can
make another animate thing objectified -
in the purest sense of:
deeming an animate thing
inanimate to be: a thing observed
without a self-serving self-aware ******
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 8:59 PM UTC
The whirr of the rush hour in the morning
and the lack of human sounds outside my door
reinforces that I'm alone.
It was a noise similar to my usual routine,
of quelling needy pangs of connection,
with what is always plugged in.
You had slept with me on this bed twice before
and you were unaware that on it,
I numbed myself quite frequently.
I reprimand myself to let go of expectations,
they have long become pipe dreams and idealism,
and would be foolish to follow still.
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 7:52 AM UTC
I, am a dreamer.
I will sit; still.
My mind escapes.
It soars and takes wing.
Capturing words that compel me,
Nay, force me to pick up a pen.
It searches my heart,
Explores my soul.
Takes energy from my feelings.
It travels to my past,
Taunts my present,
Questions my future.
Finds more words.
Herds them, into sentences.
It takes my passions,
Translates them to thoughts.
Colours them with hopes.
Carves them with doubts.
Reinforces them with truths.
Undermines them, with reality.
I, am a dreamer.
I write down,
Scratch out,
Translate, change,
Combine then rearrange
All these words.
You see my fears,
Hear me laugh,
Shout, curse
And question why.
You feel my pain.
My joys.
My happiness.
Tears as they roll down my cheeks.
Love as it leaves my heart.
I, am a dreamer.
I see how things can be,
There is logic to these.
Coupled with emotions
Braced from my heart.
Ignoring the would - ahs
The could - ahs
The should -ahs
The might be’s of my life.
No matter.
The power of my words,
The righteousness of their being
The bold advances of their meanings.
They are only as substantial
As my thoughts.
For I am not a prophet,
I, am just a dreamer.
So read my words.
Let them enter your mind.
Your heart.
Your soul.
Let them lead you
Down the roads I’ve traveled,
To embrace the Love I feel.
Partake of my passions.
Lift your soul,
Cry with me,
Laugh with me.
Find deep within yourself
What I find deep within me.
Do these things
Celebrate them,
Enjoy them,
Feel them,
Live them.
Then maybe; I won’t find,
That I am just a dreamer
Dan Gray
2004
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 1:45 AM UTC
"Go Slow", I told my life in January
"I want to take this journey at your pace"
"I want to build those bridges again"
"I want to complete you as I would always want"
"Hello!” I heard a call from the near far.
Was it really a response from the healing heart of February?!
"I hold the right to set your pace"
"I hold the right to bless you sleeps"
“I hold the right to curse you sleeplessness"
“I decide the right for you in everything"
Until the obscene April summer turned up,
It was not life; but the Cyclone’s desire to fell everything en route.
I learned; there might be things to cherish
But would not want to own again
Rains in Kerala carry the rhythms of life
I once again made those paper boats
At my pace, as the 10 year old,
And as July demanded
Life grew deeper within, in that rhythm of rains
Nursing the one who nursed me for long
I learned, there are only cycles in life,
There is only movement in life
The flight took off, despite the pedantic reasons thrown over the tarmac
In that morgue of frozen mummies, I felt the futility of expectations
My Wings of fantasies halted, on top of the panoramic Great Wall
In the arc lights of award night, I enjoyed the pleasure of losing
Walking alone the Washington streets, I found the walks of life...
November comes concealing a lot; it conceive sorrows
It grows a detached attachment within and around you
November reinforces the relativity in everything
Life, love, respect, trust and confidence
I like the reds in December, it's flamboyance
I like the irony of "hope" brought in by this very end!
There are only cycles in life, no gains or losses
There is only movement in life, some forward
And some stuck in the maze and not knowing which way.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 4:48 AM UTC
While most people are familiar with
the principle of ‘sowing and reaping’,
it can be difficult to distinguish
between Fact and Fiction; gleaning
the Truth sometimes takes time, so
that the authentic and the fake can…
be properly separated. Sad jealousies
are found when the evil works of Man
bloom against the stark contrast of
God’s reality; seeing the good and bad,
subtly reinforces our understanding of
the wheat and tares; let us be glad,
in knowing how God divinely operates;
in Him, we can move and have our being
when our Faith is extended on behalf
of His Kingdom; when we are agreeing
with His Word, it’s easier to love and
care for others regularly, as we must;
will people observe us as His Children,
if we’re not placing in God… our trust?
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 2:09 PM UTC
A flash of gold
blisters my skin,
causing me to retreat
to the shade of the weeping willow.
Bead after bead of salt
forms a darkened necklace
on my grey collar,
my noose of summer.
The once green, now yellow,
slowly dying scenery
reinforces my instinct
to flee inside these wooden boxes.
My shoulders are kissed
with buckets of rays—
they pour down from above
the heads of the trees.
I submerge my wings
up to the first hinge,
the chill of the pond
barely softens the burn.
I grimace as the light reflects,
obscuring my vision.
There’s someone out there
who knows how to change things.
As I shake my feathers dry
and prepare to flee back home,
I glance to the side,
seeing my distorted reflection in the ripples.
Mother Nature is finally happy
with the way we are reacting.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
Cry not for what you do not have
Bleed less for what is given,
For the cruelty in your fellow man
Will paint how greed is driven.
The silent fields of Sobibor
And Dachau's dull grey light,
Pay testament to past largess
In what is wrong and right.
Conception's teeming contest
Has dispensed your primal luck,
Your greater expectations
Have run, gratuitously, amok.
For what you are is what you get
This mirror's image barks,
And delusional ostentatiousness
Reinforces those remarks.
Seek not the golden rainbow
Nor pursue the greener field,
For disaffected affectations
Promise you a simple yield.
Learn to love the skin you live in
Irrespective of the warts,
Live within your limitations
Despite disparaging retorts.
Count the blessings of the moment
Take each small step at a time,
Come to terms with who you are
And you will find it all...sublime!.
Marshalg
@theBach
14 November 2009
Nov 13, 2009
Nov 13, 2009 at 7:39 PM UTC
Only here till’ morning, so the night’s an open road and,
the beaten path only leads to mourning. An off-road traveler,
who escapes the chase of a pursuant sun.
Slow walking through river reeds.
A cupped handful of running water reinforces his state of being;
all but free.
Marathon of miles between, the first date on his gravestone and
the last number his mother reads at the bottom of his eulogy.
The hyphen shorthand for life and,
Missing the meaning through the seams, that connect his first day
to the day he leaves. An often-bereaved purveyor of shattered dreams,
Who stops to smile at every waving tree because,
even in despair he found belief beneath
the bared teeth of the machine trying to syphon from his peace.
A flower born from concrete.
Escaping through the cracked city streets;
out past the horizon line.
Jul 7, 2021
Jul 7, 2021 at 10:12 PM UTC
Yesterday, I sat in front of the TV and watched my life play out before me
Like a badly directed sit com with scripted laugh track and jilted dialogue.
Opening theme song by: that obscure band you pretend to like so they’ll like you
Starring: that older sister’s friend you thought about under the covers at night.
Starring: that family who said that boys liking boys and girls liking girls was destroying our nation.
Starring: that boy who held your mouth closed and forced you to wash his *** off your tongue
Before he called you baby and allowed you to kiss him.
Starring: that loving God who, you’re told, will no longer love you if you are true to yourself.
Starring: that girl who you can’t have.
Starring: that girl you shouldn’t want.
Starring: that girl you can’t live without.
Starring: that society who taught you to hate your body.
Starring: that mirror that reinforces what they say.
Starring: those thoughts that tell you to give up because you’ll never be as smart as your sister.
Starring: you’ll never be as pretty as her.
Starring: a number on a scale that determines your self worth.
Starring: wanting to be alone but not wanting to be lonely
Starring: loneliness
Starring: self-loathing
Starring: ****** thoughts you keep hidden because Christian girls like you should like Christian boys
Like him who fingered you in his truck not an hour after praying in Jesus’s name.
Starring: that flutter in your stomach every time you hear her voice.
Starring: her being the reason you’re stay alive.
Starring: life, your life, lived by you and no one else
Starring: You, with a bible in one hand and a cigarette in the other,
Because surely one of those things will smoke the demons out, you think.
You hope.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
I love sports.
I love that the worst experience isn't getting last, it's getting second.
I love that I can drift into another world when I play.
I love that my teams are all like family to me.
I love that there is an infinite outcome to every scenario in a game, and each game has hundreds of thousands of scenarios.
I love that sports a combination of wit, coordination and logic.
I love seeing my heroes smile.
In a close second I love seeing them cry, as it reinforces my idea of how much they love the game.
Most of all, I love that sports are a unity throughout the world. The rifts known as rivalries bring us closer together.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
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Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 2:38 AM UTC
They call it flooding
sensory overloading and psyche attack
persisting harping on negatives acts created
this to a spineless snowflake would drive insane
they see it as gnawing at a scar re opening wounds for pain
or the torturing style of keeping a prisoner awake while music runs
playing unappreciated sounds over and over and over and over again
he sadist ****** buzzes believing we are doing his head cracking it
I see emotional intelligence
this is psychotic obsession by an inferior bully
imagine the damage inherent in minds such as these
imagine how useless inadequate unfulfilled and pained to do this
I feel sorry for them then I find it funny they put in time and effort
then even funnier that there is no bases in reality or truth to it at all
perhaps sadly I also see there are loads of unhinged people around
then gainfully it all reinforces my confidence and self assurance
and in all modesty the difference between good education an *******
But there is something I do not comprehend
why ingrates have not considered that if their acts impacted
I have choice to leave site and not read their delusion therapies
do they imagine I am masochistic or numb as they erroneously say
I think not its simply narcissists are arrogant and lack introspection
which brings me to a salient assertion which again I state humbly
If I'm going to be driven mad it would not be by a bunch of asinine nutcases and semi illiterate spineless cowards and certified toe-rags
I rest my Lords......
Sep 1, 2019
Sep 1, 2019 at 8:42 AM UTC
Every day, I open my reality:
I wake up.
I feel.
I choose.
I decide—
knowing so many others
are crying behind the scenes,
and their trembling is raw.
Pain isn’t consolation—
it reinforces the structure of fragility
when the towers are crumbling.
At the core, we return,
squeezing black-and-white struggles
into our veins, into our memories.
To the only home
we never left
our own body.
The first and the last.
Jun 1, 2025
Jun 1, 2025 at 8:29 AM UTC
I utterly hate those days where you try so hard to pretend everything is ok but nothing really is.
I haven't decided which is worse...
When everyone can tell but no one cares,
Or when no one knows and you have to pretend that much more.
Either way it reinforces why I like my isolation.
The darkness that surrounds me isn't always bad.
Sometimes it is the light that will blind you.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 11:31 PM UTC
I will encounter all barriers
I will cross all the horizons
I don’t require any carriers
For taking fire from the sun
Love is that force which enforces
All the time it reinforces
When your lips just endorse
Then opens that path, that course
Which takes us on a love ride
Where we have invincible pride
Where love takes its tide
Then fragrance spreads far and wide
You in me and I am in you
Sue the force and ensue
Where beauty always pursues
Then time takes us through
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 12:44 AM UTC
Every time I think I heal I see another wound slowly appear
A wound caused by god knows what,
A lie, a rumor, a comment, a blow to the chest.
But in the end does it really matter what caused it when your stuck trying to live with it.
And for the ones who don’t know how hard it is ,
they can never fully understand how hard it is sometimes
to keep the trigger away from the light and hide it away, out of sight
“Out of sight out of mind” they say
God are they wrong
When it’s out of sight it only reinforces the need to see it
And once you see it it’s all you can think about.
The thoughts consume you and invade your mind, until all that is left is a shell of who you were.
Exactly like the empty shell of a bullet that’s been left on the ground of a crime scene.
A crime scene,
Is that what you want to be remembered as?
A CRIME SCENE,
YOUR CRIME SCENE,
THE LAST PLACE YOU TOOK A BREATHE.
The place where you could no longer last,
so you gave up.
is that really you?
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
*Your location on this globe
Ceases to keep you from pinpointing a spot my heart-
Even though you're far off elsewhere,
Your stake on the beating in my rib cage reinforces that we are never truly apart.*
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 1:43 AM UTC
It is not our responsibility,
to be carrying our sins daily;
Christ took them upon Himself
for our benefit, whereby we can
move beyond… our fallen nature.
Success isn’t based on ability,
but on our reliance upon Yahweh!
Repent from wickedness; cry unto
Him, Who saves; study and apply
His Word with diligence; ask for
divine wisdom; trust Him and gain
unimagined peace; His loving sway
reinforces the subtle and genuine
reality of a relationship with Him.
We have been instructed to choose
Life; a final death sentence awaits
us, if we ignorantly or unwittingly
insist on… carrying our sins.
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 9:47 AM UTC
Illuminating the darkest chasms
Within the labyrinth
Of my mental construct
In the most lustrous colors
- You paint my soul;
with brush strokes unspoken of
heretofore & forevermore
I smoldered along the inferno
But you make me glow
Incisive as red hot knives
Cauterizing me to the hollow core
My twin flame personified
Guided by the Eye of Apollo
The fire crescendos bright but
Can we still burn tomorrow?
The comfort of being vulnerable
Something I’ve never known
Permeating the fabric of reality
From which we’re both shorn
In this abstraction I am magnetized;
Canvassed by your sanguine fashion
You’re a force of nature so I energize
Being your equal and opposite reaction
Mesmerized; when we synchronize
In utmost harmonious passions,
It intensifies the butterflies
Multiplying in my abdomen
Did I mention, my thirst for you is
Unquenchably vivacious? It’s like I’m Tantalus,
Stuck on the cusp & you’re the pool
I’ll always long to drink from
I crave your vibrations;
Sensations on strings which I hang on
-Your every word reinforces
The advances I can’t play off of
It’s not happenstance; Fates wove our path
Admirance enchanting our perspective
You’re in my reflection and suddenly
I’m projected to a different dimension
The sky splits then I’m wondering
If this is truly ascension
Flying on the wings of Icarus;
Longing to plunge your furthermost depths
Jul 15, 2022
Jul 15, 2022 at 6:37 AM UTC
They say pain demands to be felt
With the deepest part of your heart
With all your senses, the ones left
From a numb body that has been shot
With sharp arrows that slowly lead to your death
Torturing your spirit till you feel it escape from your chest
Running away from the suffering
Tearing up your skin, layer by layer
Leaving marks and signs everywhere
Stabbing your heart fearlessly along the way..
And suddenly blood rushes through your veins
You feel the adrenaline racing the cells of your brain
A thought freezes the tremendous pain
The thought of him reinforces the army that stands against you
The whole world stops to embrace it too
Finding the source of the bombs
That exploded all at once
It was not pain triggered by the absence of your loved one, no
Not the plague that infects your heart once in a while, no
Not the butterflies at war in your stomach when you see him, no
Something toxic and dark; above all
It is,indeed, his presence that tortures your soul
With words that rip you apart like a sword
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
They call it flooding
sensory overloading and psyche attack
persisting harping on negatives acts created
this to a spineless snowflake would drive insane
they see it as gnawing at a scar re opening wounds for pain
or the torturing style of keeping a prisoner awake while music runs
playing unappreciated sounds over and over and over and over again
them sadist psychos buzzes believing we are doing his head in, cracking it
I see from emotional intelligence
this is psychotic obsessions by an inferior bullies
imagine the damage inherent in minds such as these
imagine how useless inadequate unfulfilled and pained to do this
I feel sorry for them then I find it funny they put in time and effort
then even funnier that there is no bases in reality or truth to it at all
perhaps sadly I also see there are loads of unhinged people around
then gainfully it all reinforces my confidence and self assurance
and in all modesty the difference between good education an *******
But there is something I do not comprehend
why ingrates have not considered that if their acts impacted
I have choice to leave site and not read their delusion therapies
do they imagine I am masochistic or numb as they erroneously say
I think not its simply narcissists are arrogant and lack introspection
which brings me to a salient assertion which again I state humbly
If I'm going to be driven mad it would not be by a bunch of asinine nutcases and semi illiterate spineless cowards and certified toe-rags
Sep 2, 2019
Sep 2, 2019 at 3:50 PM UTC
Freedom of speech is to reiterate the liberty I feel when I am around you.
Freedom of speech is to reinforce through verbal communication that I miss you.
Rather than the silence of closed lips, concealing every heartfelt thought that tears away at my heart that goes without notice.
To hear you reply with not only your words but the reaction of your eyes.
The openness of your body. To heal this incurable ache.
Through verbal stimulation only can this freedom be heard through longing ears.
To hear you say the things you keep near and dear to your heart.
This universe that you keep inside swirling between your ears.
The orbit of your heart, longing and throbbing with a life of it's own.
This freedom which I speak liberates the soul.
Keeping things inside otherwise felt in death.
The regret of keeping things inside that should have been spoke into existence.
Otherwise how else would you know the taste of this freedom spoke from my lips.
This freedom that echoes loud and clear that reinforces action.
To voice opinion. To live, to love.
This freedom which I speak I need you to hear with closed eyes and an open heart.
To reinforce this love I have for you. To constantly place pieces of me inside of you.
To return to me the same freedom that I hope to instill in you
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 4:54 PM UTC
*wisdom states: it's not a question of belief, or unbelief, and this is where islam is: simply wrong; islam does not accommodate a fear... there is no arabian nightmare in store... there's too much audacity at play... theism or atheism pays no due to what is actually at store: a fear of god implies that it is rational, since a belief or an unbelief in god is a feeding ground for phobias, irrational fears... there is but one rational fear: that of god, manically because phobias are intermingled with a belief in a "irrational" being; what is truer though, is to have but one rational fear, and a set of irrational beliefs that can be rationalised and overcome... this is how wisdom is stated: the audacity to slander god is no proof of authentic disbelief, for it is no proof of authentic loss of fear, in a scenario of being tortured, murdered and the whole rainbow of sadomasochism; is it?!*
prior to my fear of god,
i came across the fear that:
psychopaths have no
remorse... as the populists
claim, or how
neuroscience reinforces
as true...
but then i mind the essential
universal law of
unit formation...
and i lessen the fear of
psychopaths acquiring no
sensation of remorse,
under the thespian mask
of the crux: the pathology of
lies -
to be double exact:
rather than the pathological
liar...
the psychephobia -
the phobia of possessing a soul.
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 8:47 PM UTC
I am the ring around your finger
No matter how much time will pass.
I will always remain.
A vow of trust that cements verbal thought.
A dream come true left imprinted on your finger.
To share truth.
The thoughts we both speak into existence.
I am the ring that reinforces the core from which you and I grow.
The diamond that forms through the pressure of dark times.
I am the band that continuously loops around your finger.
The promise of everlasting.
Through the good, through the bad.
The strength that nourishes us when we are weak.
The different parts of us we continue to meet.
This ring a symbol of how far we've come.
How far we've yet to go
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 12:49 AM UTC