"rejections" poems
maybe all i need to stop this pain is a little motrin.
maybe all i need to stop this bleeding is a band-aid.
maybe all i need to stop this screaming are some ear plugs.
maybe all i need to stop this drowning is a life raft.
maybe all i need to stop this agony is a little numbness.
numbness...
it wears off, doesn't stop the pain only holds back the flood gates
of sleepless nights and screaming hearts, bloodshot eyes and rejections knife.
just long enough for me to catch a glimmer of hope, a mirage
in the Sahara, so beautiful yet so cruel.
just as i get close enough to taste
a sweet tomorrow,
the desert sun sets.
and i'm still bleeding,
and you're still
gone.
maybe all i need to stop this searching is a little less hope.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
wants to be my friend, for I am poet-woman nineteen.
she is sweet but sad. super sad.
a good poet who wants to guide me.
but there/theirs is the odor, not faint, of wants wanting,
the pus of corruption behind the curtains,
the Wizard-ess of Oz's
special blackout curtains.
seen how easy, how her illusions,
my medium rare rejections,
morph into her delusions,
and her delusions devolve into
her conspiracy theories.
"SHE will be my mentor, poetess lover, teacher for no charge!"
my parents thinks it's great, she wants (to be) skin in my game.
my parents will find this poem accidentally, exactly,
how I do not want
to be skinned alive.
for I am poet-woman nineteen and still! now, long past
the point of being fooled, the point of no return.
and see no point,
have no intention,
of returning to either valley
***no more con the my mind into letting my body
be-fused.^***
that ain't me babe.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 2:54 PM UTC
I'm made of all;
The books I've ever read
Poems I've ever written
Faces who have smiled at me
Hugs that have wrapped around me
Caresses that have graced my inner thigh
Countries & continents my feet have touched
The lovers as we simultaneously reach ecstasy within
Lonely nights shedding tear drops
Nights gazing black skies moon & stars
Children falling asleep to my heartbeat
Animals whose soul was found through reflective eye stares
Conversations spoken in French, Spanish, Italian, Xhosa, Afrikaans, Norwegian, German
Years of ****** cognitive-, dialectical-, art-, drama-, music-, mindfulness-, trauma-, psychiatry-; therapies
The drinks & drugs & mind altering substances dispersing my mind
In all I'm made of;
Love
Lust
Greed
Fear
Joy
Freedom
Longing
Dreams
Despair
Sadness
Anger
Frustrations
Happiness
Anxieties
Insecurities....
In all I'm made of;
A soul; securely contained within a body of battled scars;
over;
pain & triumphs, losses & gains, rejections & acceptances, dishonours & accolades...
With the hope; she too, can live life through.
© Sia Jane
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
I don't want to fit in a certain society,
Just to prove them I'm superior and mighty,
I enjoy no limits, no boundaries,
Away from rejections and worries.
I don't want to be judged,
By a fool's judgement,
I don't want to be rejected,
Like others you've collected.
I'll continue to be myself,
With a promise I'll be no helf,
I will not be rejected by you,
Because I'm not trying to.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 3:34 AM UTC
I am trying to let things off my chest
It's about time i realize
not all of us are mean't for true love and all that.
I read somewhere "
we define love
by what we experience."
It's safe to say,
What has been so clear so far
is that passionate love
That i used to dream off
Doesn't apply to me.
Nor the kind of soft love
that can exist between two people
who want to share their lives.
I don't have that either
What i do have
Is a list of rejections.
All this time ,I've been blaming myself
Thinking I am the problem
But not anymore
I am a totally awesome person.
I just wasn't meant to share that
Romantic passion with anyone.
I am making peace with that.
I really am.
I'll divert all that energy
That was seeking and looking around
for "Real Love",
To things that will build me up
or help me achieve my dreams
Be a blessing to other people.
Not all of us
Are destined for romance
Not all of us have that One person
We are waiting to find.
I just wanna live my life happy
Doing all the things that are necessary
Having an impact with the world.
I'll share that passion.
That,I know I can do.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 10:02 AM UTC
Despite all the rejections we go through
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
life in writing is never ending.
© Pax
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 9:45 AM UTC
It's not about the ghosts or the demons
The heartbreaks and rejections
It's about the happiness and contentment
Not minding what you've imperfected
What you're scared of doesn't matter
As long as you know that you'll be better
Head up, stay strong
and never give it up all
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 7:45 AM UTC
It was a Wednesday,
the postman in glorious blue,
a horrific thin letter
in your mailbox.
Across the street
the plump woman watched,
you tore it open,
birthday present in June.
Rejections, maybe.
But no. Instead
black words
said something other.
Happiness crashed upon you,
jumping up, up and down
as if on a trampoline,
a fire, smothering the dark.
Accepted.
You called it a creative wave,
rising, frothing wildly
and falling again.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 5:32 PM UTC
Through the rejections and all the hate,
Just before your faith crosses the Pearly Gates,
Though allegedly claimed impossible by the Fates^,
taps you on your weary shoulder - "Hi,
could you help me, no one else is ...” -
the lonely voice of your soul-mate^^.
^Rumour has it those Greek hags have stock options
in the military-industrial complex, the cosmetics industry,
and favour Eris's 21st century avatar called Consumerism.
^^Your soul is not a super-market produce,
For feckless mass appreciation or consumption.
Your soul is a dauntless beautiful sapling, that
'the one' will rescue from its interminable fire,
and nurture it, till it blossoms and glows.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 1:11 PM UTC
A bird lived its life lonely,
None came for its help,
It kept hunting for fruit pulp,
Considered relations and family unholy.
When its mother lived on difficulty,
Other relative birds, treated it a person of mediocrity,
Refused to follow generosity without partiality,
To keep them safe, pretended their incapacity.
Elder sister of the lonely bird kept threatening,
About the future inabilities and loneliness,
For a family life, kept telling it undeserving,
Told it would face disappointments without liveliness.
Life kept the lonely bird, lonely,
The bird never cared about it,
It had its mother with it,
Life went lively & happily.
Lonely bird had a fear in its thought,
What happens, in loneliness if I am caught?
It felt severe anguish and fear,
On occasions, its heart fell in tear!
Its elder sister, treated it with disrespect,
In spite of it being, an aspiring intellect,
Life of lonely bird remained downward,
It got itself ready for situations untoward.
The lonely bird kept struggling and thriving,
With its ambition and goals put its life driving,
Going remained really impossible & tough
The path to dream remained very rough.
Its fellow birds, remained happily settled,
For lonely bird, things looked to be tangled,
It was skilled, opportunities remained disabled,
With rejections, life continuously growled.
The lonely bird wanted to turn phenomenal,
Didn’t look out to happiness personal,
It did not have family,
In its wealth remained, being hit poorly.
Life went downward with pause,
It was on long term ambition and cause,
The bird turned itself a hungry beast,
To put it away from loneliness, at least.
If none is there, to take care,
I would die! I would die!
For a worldly mission, if I dare!
Of loneliness, I would never cry!
Elder sister of lonely bird threatened,
You were born a layman
Will die an orphan!
Because you are a madman!
The lonely bird, responded for it in life,
I was born a layman,
Will fight for my mission like a madman,
Will die always fighting world evils as a spearman.
There was ring! There was a ring!
It was named Bhagat Singh!
It told me life is lived on its own,
Others shoulders are used at time of funeral.
There was an alarm! There was an alarm!
The name was Abdul Kalam,
It told me Always be the unique you,
Even if world wants to change you everybody else.
Loneliness sometimes hit it like thorn,
Nothing could make it torn,
Through difficulties it was born,
It lived life to make this world adorn.
Loneliness turns out ubique,
I am not alone! I am not alone!
I am an unshakable stone,
I am unique! I am unique!
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
To look, or not to look: that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to forsake
The entertaining of such fanciful thoughts of love or lust
Or to pursue them against all odds of a benign response,
And by seeking, obtain? To look: to see:
Maybe more; And by a sight to find
In the glitter of an lined eye the interest and wanting
That impels said actions; ‘tis a reciprocation
Devoutly sought. To look: to see:
To see: perchance to lose: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that subtle glance what times may follow after
Whether the ice is broken or the heart instead,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of a choice to peek;
For who would bear the hurt of a scornful return,
A finding that the goddess is a medusa,
A turning of the fancies to stone,
A realization of disinterest, a knitting of the brows
A frown’s beginnings on a face so fair,
When she herself might her peace make
By refraining to meet the intended’s eye? Who would want
To face a rejection that is in all chance,
But for the regret that comes with a chance not taken,
Leaving what could be as what could have been
Forevermore, which makes us turn
And face the one to one million
Than never to face it at all?
Thus fear of rejections makes regretters of us all,
And thus the resolve to be one of a million
Is weakened by weighty o’erthought,
And an attempt to contemplate her soul through her eyes
With this regard are abandoned,
And lost to remain as fanciful thought.
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 10:51 PM UTC
What a name! what a joy! To have her called by Mrs yours,
What a beauty! to load over a a man,
Nayanoi is the name, brought up by a mother who is embedded to tradition,
It carries all fame and this is not a game but another ingredient to tame monstrous heart union.
There is indeed touching love after perennial failures,
Rejection over rejections builts emotion-shielded heart,
It kills dangerous emotions,it destroys
barbarians.
Such is life, don't you know,
Nayanoi demonstrated the saying,
Marrying a man not for money but love,
I have came to admire the Maa community,
They don't fake around they are what they are.
Unlike ******** who are really cheap indoors,
But fear displaying it in full glare of our cameras
Nayanoi won my heart, As a true African woman,
She is the wife of my kinsman.
Am not lusting for her, she deserve all the earthly praises,
A woman sired and raised perfectly,
She wears all the smiles in her face,
Knowing she is a beauty queen and not a braggart.
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 11:23 AM UTC
My minister said
Two Sundays ago, that
"Christmas will always disappoint."
It was jarring,
Unnerving.
A minister said such a thing?
But wait, keep listening.
You'll see it makes sense.
You'll see it's true.
The Jews were expecting
A king to overthrow the Romans.
They expected trumpets blaring,
A white horse carrying
Their savior.
They got a helpless baby
Heralded by shepherds
And the bleating of sheep,
Born of a poor peasant woman
In a poor peasant town
In a poor peasant barn
Of a poor peasant inn.
How disappointing.
We expect the family to be together
We expect love and happiness
During the Christmas season.
We did not expect
Financial troubles
Marital problems
Stress at work
College rejections
Fighting with the kids
Arguing with the parents
The tree didn't get decorated
Until December 21
The outdoor lights
Are still in boxes.
Advent was supposed to
Prepare us.
But we're not ready yet.
Christmas will always disappoint,
But the baby will not.
Christmas is a beginning.
Christmas is hope.
There is always hope in children.
They are the future.
Hope, most of all
Is in the child of God.
It is hope.
The "good part"
Is yet to come.
We plant seeds in Christmas
With the expectation of the future.
Jesus grew up,
Like babies do.
He changed the world.
He changed the individuals.
He fed the hungry
He gave sight to the blind
He comforted the beggars
He brought justice to the Temple
He taught his followers
He drove out the demons
He loved the sinners
He reached out to the outcasts
He lived with us
He walked with us
He loved us.
And we killed him.
But that wasn't going to stop the baby
The child we placed our hope in on Christmas.
He came back from the dead
And performed many miracles.
Then he left
But promised to return.
And so we wait
With the hope given to us
By a baby
On the most disappointing Christmas of all.
But he left us a gift
Not wrapped in paper and string
But fire.
He have us the Spirit
So that we'd have guidance and comfort
And we'd never be alone.
So we can act as he did.
We can feed the hungry,
We can comfort the beggars,
We can reach out to the outcasts.
And as they wait with the hope from the baby
We can give them the same gift
So they can continue the baby's work.
Christmas is disappointing
But the baby is not.
The baby is Jesus
And he gives us hope.
Of life and life beyond death
And of love for all people.
For then, for now,
And forever.
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 10:14 AM UTC
They say everybody's bound to play the fool but I'm always the biggest in the room, a typecasted tool
A hopeless romantic who'll ignore the red flags and shrug 'em off, just act cool
Just to avoid numerous rejections like in the cesspool that was high school
But the pain of a lie is far more cruel, every one adds fuel and makes me feel minuscule, I'm weak, that's your que
Here's your chance to tie the knot and kick the chair, I'll pretend there's no one there
No one will see, you'll be free from me, freed of the need to care
So look at that there, all laid out, replace the smile with a pout and mess your hair
Give it one or two weeks after sorrow peeks then you can drop the act live on air
My soul will forever dangle here from the beam of my despair, a carcass chandelier
I want to cry out but the rope...well let's just say my throat is beyond repair
Seems that even in death I'm a forgotten chapter or just briefly skimmed over
Come to think of it, my body they have yet to discover, both in life and death I'm shown I don't really matter
I knew this life wasn't going to turn out well for me. How you ask? I listen carefully and obsessively study my history
You want a piece of me? I won't put up a fight, you can take it all, go ahead and feast on me
Just have the decency to finish me off completely and stack my remains neatly so I become part of the scenery
And be a reminder of your victory, you defeated me, who knew a broken heart could actually **** somebody...
****
©2021
Jan 7, 2021
Jan 7, 2021 at 2:52 AM UTC
Just close your eyes
From the hatred
From the rejections
From the sufferings
From the pain
From the anger
From the corrupt
From the cruel
From the bullies
Just close your eyes
But not your mind
Open your mind
And fight all the injustice
And make others' eyes open
For a better world
For a better tomorrow
For a better planet !
Just close your eyes
But don't be blind
Just close your eyes,
To recollect the energy in you
To be the sight for the real blind!
****
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC
My heart is black
it has no reflection
but reveals my thoughts,
my pain and rejections.
My heart is black
and my blood runs cold.
I remember the past
back when I wasn't as bold.
My heart is black
my patience is thin.
Where are you God?
Why can't I win?
My heart is black
yet your light shines.
The cure for my darkness
sent from the heavens divine.
My heart is black
but our friendship grows.
I see the light
come on lets go.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 1:38 PM UTC
foolish anger
i do not blame her
she can not touch the sky
all she sees is love
and we are all together
entwined
to be designed
foolish anger
i do not blame her
she can not touch the sky
all she sees is love
and we are all together
entwined
to be designed
don't you know
when you Discriminate
all it bleeds
is just hate
so
remember your fate
and
the ******
and the drugs
money
and the things
but are all these
qualities
inbreed between our eyes
i can tell you
its not your third eye
blind
open your mind
can't you see
all this negative
you can find
in the media
and all things of its kind
foolish anger
i do not blame her
she can not touch the sky
all she sees is love
and we are all together
entwined
to be designed
we live in a world
hate and satisfaction
acceptance and rejection
some say traditional
i see irrational
observance
correspondence
and the media belief
spreads wide
spreads grief
and leads to the thief
of misconstrued relief
all the people see
is a world
with a focus
hate and satisfaction
acceptance and rejections
foolish anger
i do not blame her
she can not touch the sky
all she sees is love
and we are all together
entwined
to be designed
generations of many
goals of collections
and directions
filled with all the empty
elections
then corrections
you say traditional
all i see is irrational
wait
could it be just the passion
and the dreams
is all that the
ocean and the streams
have created within
imagine a world
left in the sun
gold in the sky
clouds of what came
clouds of what come
diamonds on the souls
searching this land
only wanting to be free
in a world
of
hate and satisfaction
acceptance and rejection
foolish anger
i do not blame her
she can not touch the sky
all she sees is love
and we are all together
entwined
to be designed
whats with this hate
wheres the satisfaction
all this acceptance
leads to rejection
with every moment
etched in some back stone
my friend bobby
dylan takes my soul
before we all go down
we will all remember
this young mans aching brow
something will all find us
when were buried in the snow
Pompeii was just a mystery
and now it is our home
consumed with a sense
of hate and satisfaction
acceptance then rejections
foolish anger
i do not blame her
she can not touch the sky
all she sees is love
and we are all together
entwined
to be designed
Foolish Anger
I do not blame her
She can not touch the sky
all she sees is love
and we are all together
entwined
to be designed
Foolish anger
i can only blame her
she lives in the sky
never knew love
always together
entwined
by design
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 1:27 PM UTC
they said he should submit this
make submissions and do readings
this is the way it’s been done
for many years
but he didn’t really want to
a couple of rejections left him weary
and he’s a writer not a performer
the contests say “all styles and subjects”
but surely they have criteria
not this one
not this one
this one
the all inclusiveness is a lie
the judges know what they want
he wished they’d be up front and specific
but it’s all about the entry fee
they pretend to be seeders
offering everyone a chance
to grow and bloom
but they’re actually weeders
quickly quashing poems
rubber stamped with doom
they never really stood a chance
because it’s all about the entry fee
“Don’t self publish”, they said
“You’ll regret it”
he did the design and layout anyway
“Can ‘we’ make changes to the cover?”
who the hell is “we”?
this is his book?
sure he wanted sales
that’s what publishing is about
but sink or swim
he wanted his book, his way
especially his first book
and he’s a stubborn *******
the internet is accommodating
this IT age makes it easier
the process has been long
with glitches and obstacles
doubt and procrastination
but the would be destination was worthy
available at amazon
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
5'9
115 pounds
runway, of course
the face of an alien
but a seven digit paycheck
isn't it strange?
how media can obsess over someone
who looks like they're from outer space
we see them as an object
they are supposed to walk and look pretty
nothing more, nothing less
we never wonder how many hours they had to workout
in order to get that thin and still remain healthy
how many rejections they got
"face is too round"
"drop 10 pounds then we'll talk"
"learn how to walk first"
they are pushed to their limits
so let's treat them as more than just an object
because they're real people too
please realize that
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 8:50 PM UTC
When their harsh reality comes crashing down, I'll escape to our fantasy world where you'll be waiting for my arrival.
Our secret realm where we are free from their restrictions.
Free from their rejections.
Free from the fate the gods have destined for us.
We will make the path that we deem fit and walk hand in hand as we proudly taunt the gods that laughed at our existence.
We will explore the world that we have created.
Seek out the mysteries that are hidden in each cave.
Dive into the underwater trenches and bask in the glory of atlantis.
Fly up and touch heaven just to feel the warmth of nirvana.
I'll always be yours until the last star shines in the our collapsing galaxy.
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 7:36 PM UTC
Like a joker I looked
Being laughed and teased
No retaliation or rejections
Being a clown is what I'm good at
but deep down
This clown, mind.
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 7:06 AM UTC
2AM
I am assaulted with emotion at the notion of closing my eyes
my drunken blackouts are the only peace I seem to find deprived of my liquid therapy I sink into my thoughts
ignoring atrocious reality brings no solace to a villain caught
3AM
paralysed within myself calling out from my empty shell
a stranger inhabits my skeleton but I'm yet to hear alarm bells
my identity's gone missing but all the poles are poster-less
suffocating on small talk I'm lost in exquisite sadness
4AM
do my eyes of infinite tragedy hold the same tone of desperation?
dead detached peepers resemble marbles glossy from sedation
privately frantic for acknowledgment of my internal death
fearful you see my demise but see no value in my breath
5AM
mother dearest placed me on the curb for a foreigners collection unworthy of a garage sale I squat amongst the household rejections
amidst disheveled furniture a crusty mop makes my acquaintance
I suppose the oppression of my despair made it less contagious
6AM
whoever claimed sunrises bring hope never tried stimulants
the ***** smeared sky bears as much nausea as I implement
such is the tacky masochistic cycle of damnation
give me my slice of death and pray I don't awaken
i
grieve
my
whiskey
as
i
grieve
my humanity
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
i would compromise
--i compromise. i appear to i mean,
with peace-demeanor customized for show
paraded there and there, obeisant nonsense
in a confidence of meek to render compliments
crowding infancies of all
for the sake of art
i bend my frame about cliche
to have a human dragon claim
"the real persists unknown"
and gather at a sacred dolmen
fascinating morals sung beneath the stars and sun--
you said there was a butterfly
tasting at my skull, shaking with uncommon music too..
its skinny, immigrant feet abuzz
within the world they called a One, wings on pause, my eyebrows in flight.
a blanket iris cries warmth
in clusters hung ripe, filming over all
a native ceremonial, falsepolitik
i pluck at them atop a fence
obscure for comforts masking truth
discarded, found, fashioned
into furniture for candled houses
built with children's sons
where families try to see
a clearing in the warping
mirrors saddled with a dripping time no illustration comprehends
. wooden beams help it rise and dim,
the sunny lie, genuinely fake,
authentic trick of aeons hidden in the true
-- growing young, stemming back
to foil brighter undiscoveries for otherwisely
patient basements full of heirlooms,
sheik dining areas all
nodding over cheap wine we still manage to squint up at nothing at
in apple layers
symbolizing tidy crimes invented ceaselessly,
serving existential voids--
grace, fall, stumble catch
acquired tones of oak or berry--
other fruits would do, or none,
as i still feel
praised by your rejections --
when indifference gains a sweetness
like a novel vengeance won
i am indulging villainy
workshopping staling norms,
garden dark as cultivated loam.
where i am words
mooding intellect to torment,
faun complexity awry
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 8:37 AM UTC
I became your favorite obsession
I wondered if my last hour had come.
I am not alive until you called,
In an hour or two my cell phone becomes as hot as I am.
Take me, break me, I can’t be obedient,
I want to feel whole again…
without looking over my shoulder.
Oh my wounded and troubled heart
My soul is in deep anguish,
Without this forceful conquest
Within my eyes, jealousy wedge deep
Because of my self-critical thoughts,
My early rejections, my feeling, thoughts and action:
Our grandmother’s words came to be fulfilled
“An old fashion botheration,
My indulgence from my past,
This led to an old fashion romance,
That wasn’t resolved then or now.
Take this kiss from my lip
And in return take off your glasses
and let me see your weary eyes
You are not wrong, my jealousy is a disease
If life had be kinder to us,
I would have been yours,
And you would have been mine.
I would have been the slave to you,
I stood by the window, and stare down at couples walking by
holding hands and I thought about them and I think about us:
Making further plans and I waved my hand to them
and smile because love is a lie.
heart of darkness encounter of lies
I have paid my dues, I settled my tithes.
How can I tell my heart to stop loving him?
I became his favorite obsession, now he’s mine
Take me, break me, I can’t be obedient,
I want to feel whole again, my friend
My wounded and troubled heart,
My soul is in deep anguish,
without this forceful conquest
So why do I weep in my sleep?
My God of refuge, what was the hidden truth?
I played with fire, and now I am burnt.
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 5:40 PM UTC
My emotions towards you are aquatic. They drip, slip, pulse
and flow to the path of most resistance. Subtle beauties
stealthily scrapes my fear built walls to sudden stops.
These firing synapses, so intense that post spinal separation
I feel as if I have woke from a dream, fallen from the
beautiful skeleton winged bird carrying me.
The years I have spent hidden from eye’s view were attempts
at thwarting toothy rejections. Hidden, you wouldn’t
notice me cautiously juggling salacious seven faces.
You see, if I were to over commit past the “we” to the “us”,
my fine, out of tune Life of Possibilities would rattle
down, fracture shut. In a positive way of course!
I fear that if I gave you my crumbled, humbled heart you would
leave it somewhere, somewhere that the ravenous street
sweeper sharks might get their carnivore fins on it.
You knew all of this already, placing us back at level 1.
I tried my damndest, you can hardly see. Sorry
my dear, this is the best my poems can do.
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 6:41 PM UTC