"resale" poems - Hello Poetry

Damaged good are always on sale In every store, whether resale or retail No one wants something that’s broken down Except for when they see that certain person walking around town. She is shattered and mangled, but not on the surface A beautiful sight, her eyes lit like a furnace. She sells herself, but not for *** What’s given away is more complex. The idea of being wanted is too far gone, Like her dignity which left her for so long. So she lives her life always seeming distraught, But really it’s only because of her thoughts. They consume her mind and swallow her whole, And every day it takes its toll. She is worn and broken, and it’s clear to see What once was so beautiful, wild, and free Is now in the past, she can’t help but reminisce The days that were once so grand and full of bliss. She gave up when she gazed in the mirror, Seeing what couldn’t be any clearer. She’s still the same person that she once was, Except now she’s in the prison which does Consume her mind, her heart, and intent For her sins she feels she must repent. Her past is one that no one would yearn, And to this day the thought still burns. If not for that single mistake Then to this day his heart wouldn’t have a break. She sold herself, but nothing is new For it has happened to all of us a time or two. We sell ourselves short in all that we do, But what we must remember is that there are very few People in this world that remain pure and true. All the rest are damaged at best, And in the end it’s what separates them from the rest. I discount myself, but I will never be sold On any ideas that I have ever been told. When I get put down, what people don’t realize is that I have already found The worst critic on this planet, the one sitting down Writing this poem and filling your thoughts, Making you feel like that damaged box.

0

Apr 19, 2016

Apr 19, 2016 at 1:10 AM UTC

j-foster

Damaged Goods

Damaged good are always on sale In every store, whether resale or retail No one wants something that’s broken down Except for when they see that certain person walking around town. She is shattered and mangled, but not on the surface A beautiful sight, her eyes lit like a furnace. She sells herself, but not for *** What’s given away is more complex. The idea of being wanted is too far gone, Like her dignity which left her for so long. So she lives her life always seeming distraught, But really it’s only because of her thoughts. They consume her mind and swallow her whole, And every day it takes its toll. She is worn and broken, and it’s clear to see What once was so beautiful, wild, and free Is now in the past, she can’t help but reminisce The days that were once so grand and full of bliss. She gave up when she gazed in the mirror, Seeing what couldn’t be any clearer. She’s still the same person that she once was, Except now she’s in the prison which does Consume her mind, her heart, and intent For her sins she feels she must repent. Her past is one that no one would yearn, And to this day the thought still burns. If not for that single mistake Then to this day his heart wouldn’t have a break. She sold herself, but nothing is new For it has happened to all of us a time or two. We sell ourselves short in all that we do, But what we must remember is that there are very few People in this world that remain pure and true. All the rest are damaged at best, And in the end it’s what separates them from the rest. I discount myself, but I will never be sold On any ideas that I have ever been told. When I get put down, what people don’t realize is that I have already found The worst critic on this planet, the one sitting down Writing this poem and filling your thoughts, Making you feel like that damaged box.

41

Things I Hate... I hate it when you're talking to someone online...and they just go offline w/o saying bye (can you say rude?) I hate when you bite into a chicken wing...and get that tough vain thing and you throw up in your mouth a little I hate it when someone tells you they'll call...and they don't I hate it when you find something on tv FINALLY...and its got five minutes left I hate it when the bible thumpin, honk if you love jesus people, decide you need jesus...at 8am I hate it when you're reading a book you got from a resale store...and the last few pages are torn out I hate it when you put your heart into something...and its just not good enough I hate it when you feel alone...yet there are dozens of people all around you I hate it when you try to help...and it goes unappreciated I hate it when you dont want help...and someone insists I hate it when people volunteer you for things...without asking you first I hate it when you're heart aches...but they dont make a pill for that I hate it, that i hate so many things...when all i want is to be happy

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Nov 30, 2010

Nov 30, 2010 at 6:42 AM UTC

kit

I Hate

Things I Hate... I hate it when you're talking to someone online...and they just go offline w/o saying bye (can you say rude?) I hate when you bite into a chicken wing...and get that tough vain thing and you throw up in your mouth a little I hate it when someone tells you they'll call...and they don't I hate it when you find something on tv FINALLY...and its got five minutes left I hate it when the bible thumpin, honk if you love jesus people, decide you need jesus...at 8am I hate it when you're reading a book you got from a resale store...and the last few pages are torn out I hate it when you put your heart into something...and its just not good enough I hate it when you feel alone...yet there are dozens of people all around you I hate it when you try to help...and it goes unappreciated I hate it when you dont want help...and someone insists I hate it when people volunteer you for things...without asking you first I hate it when you're heart aches...but they dont make a pill for that I hate it, that i hate so many things...when all i want is to be happy

15

the readout simply showed, i am the brand name. it was the ubiquitous, and as was i. production and consumption are protected. i am the being from which the experience is squeezed. i am the experience repackaged and sold. altered by demand, altered again by experience. then squeezed, then sold, then squeezed, then sold. hyperreality affords the assurance of eternal life. i am information, in its creation, in its propagation. the plot has been tossed in favor of the house of character, atlantic, and pacific.

0

Aug 15, 2019

Aug 15, 2019 at 3:58 AM UTC

Simillacrum

Life Eternal: Memetic Resale

the readout simply showed, i am the brand name. it was the ubiquitous, and as was i. production and consumption are protected. i am the being from which the experience is squeezed. i am the experience repackaged and sold. altered by demand, altered again by experience. then squeezed, then sold, then squeezed, then sold. hyperreality affords the assurance of eternal life. i am information, in its creation, in its propagation. the plot has been tossed in favor of the house of character, atlantic, and pacific.

15

The beast mortified inside Breast aflame about to burn Inside he dies Where the black flower Blooms into anew He will seek respite For past sins Old grievances Poured into a summer blue His *** meaningless Spite cracks the whip Plurality the dinner knife Sanitation foresaw Without the forceps Boarding on a foregone conclusion The spring mattress Made broken No time for resale His' cage, not a solitude Words obtuse and unabused Love is his knight Shining and gleaming Scornful without hate Shameful but sane His burden The heart Colliding with the bar

0

Jan 25, 2018

Jan 25, 2018 at 12:19 AM UTC

dakotajdawson

Bar Fly

The beast mortified inside Breast aflame about to burn Inside he dies Where the black flower Blooms into anew He will seek respite For past sins Old grievances Poured into a summer blue His *** meaningless Spite cracks the whip Plurality the dinner knife Sanitation foresaw Without the forceps Boarding on a foregone conclusion The spring mattress Made broken No time for resale His' cage, not a solitude Words obtuse and unabused Love is his knight Shining and gleaming Scornful without hate Shameful but sane His burden The heart Colliding with the bar

27

We arrive at the motel I sat next to the window Soon he closes the drapes with clothespins in tow I know what's about to come I hurry and slam two shots of *** At a split second I get a fist right on my face I knew it was coming but I didn't get myself braced He yells b---h you know what your supposed to be doing As I **** in the tears I pick myself up off the ground stooping I opened my bag the last pieces of items I own I'd wish I'd gone and found a comfort zone I change into my clothes mini skirt , tight shirt, no bra and high heels I'm afraid to squeal While I'm leaving, you know what to do or your family will be black and blue I stroll down the long road a car rolls up I get in and guide him to the stump I go back to the motel Hand over the cash, and I get hit, kicked and told to go resale Realizing that I'm just a minnow swimming in a fish tank With no way out cause I'm out ranked

0

Mar 15, 2017

Mar 15, 2017 at 9:08 AM UTC

denise-huddleston

Trapped

We arrive at the motel I sat next to the window Soon he closes the drapes with clothespins in tow I know what's about to come I hurry and slam two shots of *** At a split second I get a fist right on my face I knew it was coming but I didn't get myself braced He yells b---h you know what your supposed to be doing As I **** in the tears I pick myself up off the ground stooping I opened my bag the last pieces of items I own I'd wish I'd gone and found a comfort zone I change into my clothes mini skirt , tight shirt, no bra and high heels I'm afraid to squeal While I'm leaving, you know what to do or your family will be black and blue I stroll down the long road a car rolls up I get in and guide him to the stump I go back to the motel Hand over the cash, and I get hit, kicked and told to go resale Realizing that I'm just a minnow swimming in a fish tank With no way out cause I'm out ranked

20

We have done a lot we have but what is a lot if you never had? Having something that the other don't do you think you have more? Should I resale what I have if I do would I have less to get more ?

0

Mar 20, 2017

Mar 20, 2017 at 12:31 AM UTC

Xelle

Calculus

We have done a lot we have but what is a lot if you never had? Having something that the other don't do you think you have more? Should I resale what I have if I do would I have less to get more ?

1

We were young but still not old stuck between telling and still being told trying to resale lies we once were sold and we wonder why our souls cry in pain as we deliberate which ones will be sold today

0

Sep 1, 2014

Sep 1, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC

christopher-lowe

Inbetween

We were young but still not old stuck between telling and still being told trying to resale lies we once were sold and we wonder why our souls cry in pain as we deliberate which ones will be sold today

10

Desolation All the should-haves stacked like prison walls Make it impossible to see the sky What was big is now too small and Cannot hold the folly on it’s way to bury us. Crippled by the scorch, it won’t be possible To rearrange ourselves out of this crisis. Desperation Incapable of letting go the few nice things That beautified our former lives, We know the tide is rising and we will sink Beneath the weight of all the detritus we clutch, Paying triple for the privilege of watching As we drown in bad decisions and remorse. Depression Midnight tears that vanish in the arid air, Stifled sobs that can’t repair the breach Or heal the wounded vision of tomorrow That inches ever closer, in the waking hours Once designated as the time for sleep Now put to dreary use as time for weeping. Denigration Too pale for the blazing sun but briefly, We cower in the no less burning shade And guard the meagre treasures of our lifetime, Heaped in unmarked cartons in the corner Where they wait for designation to the dump Or hauled off piecemeal to a resale place Denouement We could have seen that this would happen And lanced the hoarder’s boil before it broke. It would have been so less expensive In the pocketbook and in the soul But here we sit at midnight crying As catastrophe knocks on the door. ljm

0

Oct 3, 2019

Oct 3, 2019 at 1:43 PM UTC

LoriJonesMcCaffery

D X 5

Desolation All the should-haves stacked like prison walls Make it impossible to see the sky What was big is now too small and Cannot hold the folly on it’s way to bury us. Crippled by the scorch, it won’t be possible To rearrange ourselves out of this crisis. Desperation Incapable of letting go the few nice things That beautified our former lives, We know the tide is rising and we will sink Beneath the weight of all the detritus we clutch, Paying triple for the privilege of watching As we drown in bad decisions and remorse. Depression Midnight tears that vanish in the arid air, Stifled sobs that can’t repair the breach Or heal the wounded vision of tomorrow That inches ever closer, in the waking hours Once designated as the time for sleep Now put to dreary use as time for weeping. Denigration Too pale for the blazing sun but briefly, We cower in the no less burning shade And guard the meagre treasures of our lifetime, Heaped in unmarked cartons in the corner Where they wait for designation to the dump Or hauled off piecemeal to a resale place Denouement We could have seen that this would happen And lanced the hoarder’s boil before it broke. It would have been so less expensive In the pocketbook and in the soul But here we sit at midnight crying As catastrophe knocks on the door. ljm

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