"restriction" poems - Hello Poetry

"restriction" poems

I’ve tattooed a line across the veins of my wrist and marked a down stroke for every time “you can’t wear red lipstick” made me believe I never wanted to in the first place. for every time instead I’ve stained my lips with cherries learning how to tie the stems so I can slip forget-me-knots to the back of your throat— do you feel my restriction now? the razors that fly off my tongue perk thorns on my skin, another down stroke on my wrist will teach me that you were right, shyness is a virtue. no need to speak, go spend one hundred dollars and some percent for tax to cover up, even though I’m sure your mother told you that cotton stains. so make it black. get your hair stuck in the zipper of that sundress and pray as you pull it out that it will lose its pigmentation in the process mark a down stroke for killing two flowers for one bouquet. hold it close your eyes and throw it back, I know we shouldn’t be wearing white anyway but tradition can take a lot out of you like what you really think— don’t say **** in public. instead drag your first impressions all the way to the altar and dress in your Sunday best a flower on your lapel clear on your lips a stroke for the neat decline of the son I tattooed a line across the veins of my wrist and marked a down stroke for every time my image was my fault.

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May 4, 2015

May 4, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC

I’ve tattooed a line across the veins of my wrist and marked a down stroke for every time “you can’t wear red lipstick” made me believe I never wanted to in the first place. for every time instead I’ve stained my lips with cherries learning how to tie the stems so I can slip forget-me-knots to the back of your throat— do you feel my restriction now? the razors that fly off my tongue perk thorns on my skin, another down stroke on my wrist will teach me that you were right, shyness is a virtue. no need to speak, go spend one hundred dollars and some percent for tax to cover up, even though I’m sure your mother told you that cotton stains. so make it black. get your hair stuck in the zipper of that sundress and pray as you pull it out that it will lose its pigmentation in the process mark a down stroke for killing two flowers for one bouquet. hold it close your eyes and throw it back, I know we shouldn’t be wearing white anyway but tradition can take a lot out of you like what you really think— don’t say **** in public. instead drag your first impressions all the way to the altar and dress in your Sunday best a flower on your lapel clear on your lips a stroke for the neat decline of the son I tattooed a line across the veins of my wrist and marked a down stroke for every time my image was my fault.

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“You know, son… There’s a reason... God had a reason to give you broad shoulders -- It’s so you could carry this load… It’s so you could hold up all these boulders.” *“But these boulders aren’t my own, so why did He leave me them to hold?” I can hardly hold them now… surely I’ll collapse when I grow old.”* “You can’t think in terms of time, it is not a restriction by which He is bound… Instead you must think it as your cross, think of the thorns upon his crown. He will not notice the time; that’s a human concept we’ve created… Instead he’ll judge you by the size of the burdens with which you’re weighted.” *“Well, that’s a relief, but how can you be so sure? He’s never turned the night to day; I’ve never seen a disease he’s cured. Excuse me if I’m wrong, but I struggle to have faith When the world that he created has become this wretched place.”* “I can’t convince you that he’s real, I can’t show you how to feel. But if I showed you cold and silence, would you say that they were real? Yet these aren’t real things, simply the absence of others… So you must look to the voids, when you wish to discover.” *“I hope that you’re right. I hope he’s up there listening… I hope there’s golden gates I can admire, I hope that they’re still glistening. I hope God can take my hand, and tell me ‘Son, you’ve done well.’* I hope to God there’s a heaven – ‘cause I’ve been living in hell.”*

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Jun 13, 2013

Jun 13, 2013 at 10:48 AM UTC

"You know, son... There's a Reason..."

“You know, son… There’s a reason... God had a reason to give you broad shoulders -- It’s so you could carry this load… It’s so you could hold up all these boulders.” *“But these boulders aren’t my own, so why did He leave me them to hold?” I can hardly hold them now… surely I’ll collapse when I grow old.”* “You can’t think in terms of time, it is not a restriction by which He is bound… Instead you must think it as your cross, think of the thorns upon his crown. He will not notice the time; that’s a human concept we’ve created… Instead he’ll judge you by the size of the burdens with which you’re weighted.” *“Well, that’s a relief, but how can you be so sure? He’s never turned the night to day; I’ve never seen a disease he’s cured. Excuse me if I’m wrong, but I struggle to have faith When the world that he created has become this wretched place.”* “I can’t convince you that he’s real, I can’t show you how to feel. But if I showed you cold and silence, would you say that they were real? Yet these aren’t real things, simply the absence of others… So you must look to the voids, when you wish to discover.” *“I hope that you’re right. I hope he’s up there listening… I hope there’s golden gates I can admire, I hope that they’re still glistening. I hope God can take my hand, and tell me ‘Son, you’ve done well.’* I hope to God there’s a heaven – ‘cause I’ve been living in hell.”*

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Birds ate there all eatables flapping their wings as a dance trimming and preen of the wings jump here there, losing no chance black, blue, brown their cute colours short, long, slim, heavy, lightweight wings and flight memorable all in hurry to have fate chirp in low high sound, fresh mood they were neat, beautiful smart search everywhere want of food giving an end, at the start each one looking for some good bit sip enough to quench thirst no one waiting, for its turn a cute gay bird, find it first while the lyrics touch my soul chirp, chirp, chirp was their tweet, song making a norm; fresh my mood melodious their sweet song ripe fruit there serve passer-by there were trees to grant a shade there was rule 'No Restriction' beauty of leaves not yet fade pan was waiting to serve them one sharp sip hurry to fly child fell down while knocked at rock help! Help! Shoutinnocent cry sound dangerous, **** of earth crackling, falling, housing, wall help, no rescue love or hate site was changed in front of all no charm, fame, concert at all there was no work, club or shop speech for help was useless try any search team, rescue flop winking eyes now teary one no-one could found there a bun there no signs of living one no care there, no deal, no done birds ate there all eatables flapping their wings as a dance trimming and preen of the wings jump here there, losing no chance chirp, chirp sad song low high sound they were neat, beautiful smart search everywhere want of food giving an end, at the star each one looking for some good bit sip enough, quench the thirst no one waiting, for its turn cute bird could not find it first while the lyrics, touch my soul chirp, chirp, chirp was their sad song making a norm, my sad mood melodious, fair sad song no fruit there for passer-by no trees there to grant a shade they were buried, there, somewhere no green leaves at risk of fade all the owners slept and pressed sound dangerous lifeless rock ruined everywhere tragic song mud, stone, sand, all-cause of shock no help, care there, love or hate there was silence as no play no pan waiting there at all birds could find a broken tray you reveal it then I know my pangs are more than a sea there is link between the two soul and body, You and me

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Mar 21, 2015

Mar 21, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC

BY THE SUDDEN CRASHED HOUSES

Birds ate there all eatables flapping their wings as a dance trimming and preen of the wings jump here there, losing no chance black, blue, brown their cute colours short, long, slim, heavy, lightweight wings and flight memorable all in hurry to have fate chirp in low high sound, fresh mood they were neat, beautiful smart search everywhere want of food giving an end, at the start each one looking for some good bit sip enough to quench thirst no one waiting, for its turn a cute gay bird, find it first while the lyrics touch my soul chirp, chirp, chirp was their tweet, song making a norm; fresh my mood melodious their sweet song ripe fruit there serve passer-by there were trees to grant a shade there was rule 'No Restriction' beauty of leaves not yet fade pan was waiting to serve them one sharp sip hurry to fly child fell down while knocked at rock help! Help! Shoutinnocent cry sound dangerous, **** of earth crackling, falling, housing, wall help, no rescue love or hate site was changed in front of all no charm, fame, concert at all there was no work, club or shop speech for help was useless try any search team, rescue flop winking eyes now teary one no-one could found there a bun there no signs of living one no care there, no deal, no done birds ate there all eatables flapping their wings as a dance trimming and preen of the wings jump here there, losing no chance chirp, chirp sad song low high sound they were neat, beautiful smart search everywhere want of food giving an end, at the star each one looking for some good bit sip enough, quench the thirst no one waiting, for its turn cute bird could not find it first while the lyrics, touch my soul chirp, chirp, chirp was their sad song making a norm, my sad mood melodious, fair sad song no fruit there for passer-by no trees there to grant a shade they were buried, there, somewhere no green leaves at risk of fade all the owners slept and pressed sound dangerous lifeless rock ruined everywhere tragic song mud, stone, sand, all-cause of shock no help, care there, love or hate there was silence as no play no pan waiting there at all birds could find a broken tray you reveal it then I know my pangs are more than a sea there is link between the two soul and body, You and me

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In an instance, I felt a calmness sweep across my body. My body free of any restriction. Her being my release. Sweet liberties Utilized by the touch of lips. A period punctuated by perched lips. Released in ounces of color. The way she loved. My tongue swirled around hers. Fingers wrapped around her waist. Brown peach flavored skin. My addiction a place for her to stay, Her bag broken down; piece by piece. A home away from home. Until the day she left. I consulted family, I reached out to friends. They say that she's no good They say leave her be. Truth be told My vacancy left colorless. Bland. My tree grown fruitless Revealed to me in bitter hunger. The realization of perception. Nothing left to fill my hands. This vacancy punishable by death. A ****** filled by her alone. My fingers around her waist. Her love sticky, sweet. Swirling around my tongue. My eyes left low Anticipating her return. They say that she's no good They say leave her be. Truth be told I haven't spoken to them since

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Dec 5, 2018

Dec 5, 2018 at 6:40 PM UTC

Brown Peach Flavor Skin Blues For Slow-Hand Willi Washington

In an instance, I felt a calmness sweep across my body. My body free of any restriction. Her being my release. Sweet liberties Utilized by the touch of lips. A period punctuated by perched lips. Released in ounces of color. The way she loved. My tongue swirled around hers. Fingers wrapped around her waist. Brown peach flavored skin. My addiction a place for her to stay, Her bag broken down; piece by piece. A home away from home. Until the day she left. I consulted family, I reached out to friends. They say that she's no good They say leave her be. Truth be told My vacancy left colorless. Bland. My tree grown fruitless Revealed to me in bitter hunger. The realization of perception. Nothing left to fill my hands. This vacancy punishable by death. A ****** filled by her alone. My fingers around her waist. Her love sticky, sweet. Swirling around my tongue. My eyes left low Anticipating her return. They say that she's no good They say leave her be. Truth be told I haven't spoken to them since

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Crafty, they say, He's getting crafty crafty with my lies and my made-up meals crafty with my sound-blocking tactics crafty with hiding the burning lines of white and red. Baking, they say, He's getting into baking baking my binges baking my restriction baking my omad baking my sad-looking low-cal low-fat low-sugar low-carb high-protein 'meal'. Crochet, they say, He's getting into crochet crocheting ankle warmers to make my legs look skinny half-finger gloves in an attempt to curb the permafrost that has begun to knit itself around my bones. Healthy, they say, He's getting healthy as i workout until i faint and do sit-ups until i have bruises on my spine. fruit and veg and vitamins take priority and suddenly i have taken an interest in running.

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Sep 18, 2022

Sep 18, 2022 at 12:40 PM UTC

Crafty, they say, He's getting crafty crafty with my lies and my made-up meals crafty with my sound-blocking tactics crafty with hiding the burning lines of white and red. Baking, they say, He's getting into baking baking my binges baking my restriction baking my omad baking my sad-looking low-cal low-fat low-sugar low-carb high-protein 'meal'. Crochet, they say, He's getting into crochet crocheting ankle warmers to make my legs look skinny half-finger gloves in an attempt to curb the permafrost that has begun to knit itself around my bones. Healthy, they say, He's getting healthy as i workout until i faint and do sit-ups until i have bruises on my spine. fruit and veg and vitamins take priority and suddenly i have taken an interest in running.

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The truth Is Love doesn’t Recognize All the artificial Man made restriction We try to place On it It simply flows between Souls and overwhelm The hardest hearts Love is power Love Is peace Kindly choose love

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Jun 17, 2018

Jun 17, 2018 at 3:50 PM UTC

The truth Is Love doesn’t Recognize All the artificial Man made restriction We try to place On it It simply flows between Souls and overwhelm The hardest hearts Love is power Love Is peace Kindly choose love

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A tug of war It is the past experience and what was saw and felt A word in keeping a person in line A restriction of one’s thoughts and actions A procedure in holding one back ******* being a form beyond one’s accord Thank God there is a Lord There is a chance to survive More than a thought being a strive I dream but all I see is a nightmare I see effort, but when will there be preserver? Its like a road block with detour A method of turn back I feel as if I am trapped in bonds Maybe I am still sleep and need to wake up from my yond Perhaps it’s nothing more than a dream It’s my thinking I am in a movie stream But its truly tough being rough A different slavery oppression of the past with a theory of the present A overseer continuing in present oppression A silenced voice having no expression The downward bound with no mountain reach It’s time for a rebellion approach Oppression is real and not a joke It’s like an open wound with having a stinging poke Oppression is alive and attempting to do well Yet the world has a message in tell ‘OPPRESS AND OVERCOME, ITS ABOUT NO MOVEMENT AND BEING NUMB. IT TAKES MULTITUDES IN SUPPLYING THE STRENGTH, BUT ALL MUST GO THE MILES NO MATTER WHAT THE LENGTH” Survival is how you chose to live Its not a verb but is subjective The voice must always be objective Oppression cannot continue in terms in having its way The sunrise has risen and it’s a tomorrow being a new day These are the times to move forward and be strong It’s a matter of all personalities of creeds in knowing how to get along So shake whatever chains you feel you have on Stand up and be counted where you belong Don’t let any form of oppression hold you back You have grasped the concept of understanding in the theory of thinking sharp being the detailed tack Just give oppression one big smack Listen America it’s the various cultures that stack Oppression stand back as you have been defeated being a pack.

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Jan 23, 2016

Jan 23, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC

preservationman

A tug of war It is the past experience and what was saw and felt A word in keeping a person in line A restriction of one’s thoughts and actions A procedure in holding one back ******* being a form beyond one’s accord Thank God there is a Lord There is a chance to survive More than a thought being a strive I dream but all I see is a nightmare I see effort, but when will there be preserver? Its like a road block with detour A method of turn back I feel as if I am trapped in bonds Maybe I am still sleep and need to wake up from my yond Perhaps it’s nothing more than a dream It’s my thinking I am in a movie stream But its truly tough being rough A different slavery oppression of the past with a theory of the present A overseer continuing in present oppression A silenced voice having no expression The downward bound with no mountain reach It’s time for a rebellion approach Oppression is real and not a joke It’s like an open wound with having a stinging poke Oppression is alive and attempting to do well Yet the world has a message in tell ‘OPPRESS AND OVERCOME, ITS ABOUT NO MOVEMENT AND BEING NUMB. IT TAKES MULTITUDES IN SUPPLYING THE STRENGTH, BUT ALL MUST GO THE MILES NO MATTER WHAT THE LENGTH” Survival is how you chose to live Its not a verb but is subjective The voice must always be objective Oppression cannot continue in terms in having its way The sunrise has risen and it’s a tomorrow being a new day These are the times to move forward and be strong It’s a matter of all personalities of creeds in knowing how to get along So shake whatever chains you feel you have on Stand up and be counted where you belong Don’t let any form of oppression hold you back You have grasped the concept of understanding in the theory of thinking sharp being the detailed tack Just give oppression one big smack Listen America it’s the various cultures that stack Oppression stand back as you have been defeated being a pack.

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Freedom flings Tyrant kings Into their rightful place A head on a plate Democracy inflates The morale of the people Oligarchy deflates The idea that we're equal Spiteful dictators make their way through the system And dominate the world while nobody listens Distracting people with things that glisten Disseminating hatred as their vision Engendering fear is their mission To buy or sell weapons For more money or more power Dropping bombs from their ivory tower From extreme explosions we cower Explosions of hatred then violence Explosions hastened by silence Explosions of fire we ferment To burn the faces off our enemy To avoid exercising our empathy Creating a world filled by entropy People say ******** like freedom isn't free When the currency we pay for freedom Is restriction We dampen our fiery feelings With prescriptions Freedom is free It's inherent It can only be taken or given away It is not a proper excuse to slay Those that rightly disagree With what you're imposing Freedom is fleeing far far away When people are molded by clay Of those with the power to shape civilians Of those with the power to bring billions Of people to their knees When freedom is our fee To live in timid apathy

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Aug 31, 2017

Aug 31, 2017 at 11:46 AM UTC

Freedom flings Tyrant kings Into their rightful place A head on a plate Democracy inflates The morale of the people Oligarchy deflates The idea that we're equal Spiteful dictators make their way through the system And dominate the world while nobody listens Distracting people with things that glisten Disseminating hatred as their vision Engendering fear is their mission To buy or sell weapons For more money or more power Dropping bombs from their ivory tower From extreme explosions we cower Explosions of hatred then violence Explosions hastened by silence Explosions of fire we ferment To burn the faces off our enemy To avoid exercising our empathy Creating a world filled by entropy People say ******** like freedom isn't free When the currency we pay for freedom Is restriction We dampen our fiery feelings With prescriptions Freedom is free It's inherent It can only be taken or given away It is not a proper excuse to slay Those that rightly disagree With what you're imposing Freedom is fleeing far far away When people are molded by clay Of those with the power to shape civilians Of those with the power to bring billions Of people to their knees When freedom is our fee To live in timid apathy

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Suffocation isn’t always hand on neck, Squeezing, pressing down, Blocking off air death. Suffocation is the man with his tie tightened around his tender neck Every morning 5 am He is told he needs to work hard (and overtime) to feed his family Does he not care about them? Whittle his soul down to a single strand of consciousness, Again and again, Exhausted, stressed Failing relationships, Doesn’t speak to parents, Hasn’t seen wife in 3 weeks But work, yes bills, more important. Work till you die, Profit first everything else second. Suffocation is the student, Hand squeezing pen, Eyes shut, Failed another test, She didn’t have time to study, Deadlines, Homework, Projects, overwhelming, pushing her down, tries to scream fails can't breathe, silent cries for help unnoticed, passion for learning depleted cold and dark and alone, anxious, trembling, when will the next test be when will the next failure come when suffocating dying restricted. not always hand on neck restricting. Sometimes, it's the restriction of the mind;restriction of the soul.

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Apr 10, 2016

Apr 10, 2016 at 8:49 AM UTC

Suffocation isn’t always hand on neck, Squeezing, pressing down, Blocking off air death. Suffocation is the man with his tie tightened around his tender neck Every morning 5 am He is told he needs to work hard (and overtime) to feed his family Does he not care about them? Whittle his soul down to a single strand of consciousness, Again and again, Exhausted, stressed Failing relationships, Doesn’t speak to parents, Hasn’t seen wife in 3 weeks But work, yes bills, more important. Work till you die, Profit first everything else second. Suffocation is the student, Hand squeezing pen, Eyes shut, Failed another test, She didn’t have time to study, Deadlines, Homework, Projects, overwhelming, pushing her down, tries to scream fails can't breathe, silent cries for help unnoticed, passion for learning depleted cold and dark and alone, anxious, trembling, when will the next test be when will the next failure come when suffocating dying restricted. not always hand on neck restricting. Sometimes, it's the restriction of the mind;restriction of the soul.

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Unconditional love Amazing journey above Truth or Lie? Or just one more catchphrase? . Freedom or the Cage Freedom in a cage Hard decision We have to make . Complexity and fluidity Loving without condition Behavior versus a feeling No more restriction . Non-attachments No chains or anchors. Spread your wings Start to fly above

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Sep 13, 2018

Sep 13, 2018 at 12:49 PM UTC

Unconditional love

Unconditional love Amazing journey above Truth or Lie? Or just one more catchphrase? . Freedom or the Cage Freedom in a cage Hard decision We have to make . Complexity and fluidity Loving without condition Behavior versus a feeling No more restriction . Non-attachments No chains or anchors. Spread your wings Start to fly above

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Helen of Troy had a wandering glance; Sappho's restriction was only the sky; Ninon was ever the chatter of France; But oh, what a good girl am I!

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3.5k

Words Of Comfort To Be Scratched On A Mirror

Helen of Troy had a wandering glance; Sappho's restriction was only the sky; Ninon was ever the chatter of France; But oh, what a good girl am I!

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The insane live forever, lust lawlessly over all things conceived fascinating to the validity and gluttony of the mind. Brain feasters we live to strive, exist to be, all things so mundane to our gluttony, we hunger for something on border lines, the limits of human mumbling over morality. Cease your everest squirming, your infantile homage bearing, you find so viscous an evil, so vile a fiend in us the broken chains. Godless we sing the marching banter of forlorn free will, we have no conscience to bear, no after thought found alive anywhere. The psychopath lurches out about child like smiles, lives a second agenda basis before any infant experiments sin upon innocence. Born divine this mutant knows free will without restriction, closer to a limitless ever enveloping power than any mortal. Breed me a man slewing monster, a shape shifting skeleton reaper, those that fear this untouchable being, this godless singularity, fear the very will we wish to contort, constrain, control, but a demon answers only to that of it’s own greed, no man may quiet its roaring, its heartless contortioning. It’s an angel without a heart beat, a cadaver with a taste for its own flesh, make me a monster manufactured under every roof, we’ve got too much human to feel.

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Aug 28, 2011

Aug 28, 2011 at 12:29 AM UTC

Godless Heredity

The insane live forever, lust lawlessly over all things conceived fascinating to the validity and gluttony of the mind. Brain feasters we live to strive, exist to be, all things so mundane to our gluttony, we hunger for something on border lines, the limits of human mumbling over morality. Cease your everest squirming, your infantile homage bearing, you find so viscous an evil, so vile a fiend in us the broken chains. Godless we sing the marching banter of forlorn free will, we have no conscience to bear, no after thought found alive anywhere. The psychopath lurches out about child like smiles, lives a second agenda basis before any infant experiments sin upon innocence. Born divine this mutant knows free will without restriction, closer to a limitless ever enveloping power than any mortal. Breed me a man slewing monster, a shape shifting skeleton reaper, those that fear this untouchable being, this godless singularity, fear the very will we wish to contort, constrain, control, but a demon answers only to that of it’s own greed, no man may quiet its roaring, its heartless contortioning. It’s an angel without a heart beat, a cadaver with a taste for its own flesh, make me a monster manufactured under every roof, we’ve got too much human to feel.

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Affliction her addiction Her thoughts held no restriction She stumbled through her life blind Leaving all who loved Behind No more harm No more pain Will never hear her voice again The blade she sought as her best freind Took her life in the end ........

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Nov 6, 2013

Nov 6, 2013 at 9:05 PM UTC

Affliction her addiction Her thoughts held no restriction She stumbled through her life blind Leaving all who loved Behind No more harm No more pain Will never hear her voice again The blade she sought as her best freind Took her life in the end ........

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"She's beautiful, what a lovely girl she is" look,she always felt proud born as a girl those "Society" pampered her but along with her growing who knew,who knew the same beauty would be a problem who knew,those garces would be her enemy restriction,boundaries they made insecure surrounding was there a little fat on body,she's Ugly they claim a little scar on face & they say no beauty remain equality,that's only the "talk" they made parents with daughter,fear was created if she's beauty.she was ***** if she's ugly,she was to be blamed she's strong than you think not every "SHE" but its not like,it can't be those freedom boys have sometime she envy she sometime thinks nature did cheat on girls with those ***** & ***** & she often thinks is it a boon or a curse to have that beauty??

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Aug 19, 2014

Aug 19, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC

Girl ; a boon or a curse

"She's beautiful, what a lovely girl she is" look,she always felt proud born as a girl those "Society" pampered her but along with her growing who knew,who knew the same beauty would be a problem who knew,those garces would be her enemy restriction,boundaries they made insecure surrounding was there a little fat on body,she's Ugly they claim a little scar on face & they say no beauty remain equality,that's only the "talk" they made parents with daughter,fear was created if she's beauty.she was ***** if she's ugly,she was to be blamed she's strong than you think not every "SHE" but its not like,it can't be those freedom boys have sometime she envy she sometime thinks nature did cheat on girls with those ***** & ***** & she often thinks is it a boon or a curse to have that beauty??

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We're stuck within these bodies that we're dying to change We are ashamed because we want to be different Modified. We cannot escape being called by "her" or "him" It may not seem like much, but titles matter, As do appearances. "I want to be this", I say "But you're not that." Society barks That. We crave to be that, The opposite of "who we are" We're stuck, truley We feel as if we can't escape this, containment, This restriction, This prohibition. That defines us. We didn't choose to be WHO we are, We didn't get a choice to become WHAT we are. I am a "he". I am a "her". We are confined to be one gender, "ourselves" How can we be ourselves if our looks are so decieving? Are we not judged by our outskirts? I want to be "that", On the outside I already am, on the inside Though, I'm jammed, Wedged, Lodged, Embedded, Fixed. We linger in these false corpses They burn at our courage and tear at our hearts They puncture and pierce and leave scars and bruises in our souls Because we cannot run from ourselves. When society is against us We remain still Immovable What can we do if our skin is a lie? I am a "he" on the inside, a "she" on the outside I am a "she" on the inside, a "he" on the outside I can't escape alone. I think I'm trapped

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Feb 7, 2015

Feb 7, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC

We're stuck within these bodies that we're dying to change We are ashamed because we want to be different Modified. We cannot escape being called by "her" or "him" It may not seem like much, but titles matter, As do appearances. "I want to be this", I say "But you're not that." Society barks That. We crave to be that, The opposite of "who we are" We're stuck, truley We feel as if we can't escape this, containment, This restriction, This prohibition. That defines us. We didn't choose to be WHO we are, We didn't get a choice to become WHAT we are. I am a "he". I am a "her". We are confined to be one gender, "ourselves" How can we be ourselves if our looks are so decieving? Are we not judged by our outskirts? I want to be "that", On the outside I already am, on the inside Though, I'm jammed, Wedged, Lodged, Embedded, Fixed. We linger in these false corpses They burn at our courage and tear at our hearts They puncture and pierce and leave scars and bruises in our souls Because we cannot run from ourselves. When society is against us We remain still Immovable What can we do if our skin is a lie? I am a "he" on the inside, a "she" on the outside I am a "she" on the inside, a "he" on the outside I can't escape alone. I think I'm trapped

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We The People Sailed the same course Some willingly Some by force We The People A document to inform A more perfect Union To weather any storm No more kings No more oppression No taxation Without representation Checks and balances And the rule of law Mitigating injustices Safe harbor for all The secular trinty President, Congress, Court Not one above the other Veto, fiat, tort Our common interest Of defense With liberty And justice Our common tranquility And general welfare A union With resources to share American rights And protection From a despotic government Or an insurrection Free to worship my God Or your God Freedom to find God Or deny any God Open discourse Speaking my mind And yours However unkind Collective grievances Peaceably petitioned We walk together But never threatened To bear arms For our security Never being forced To quarter unwillfully To remain secure In our sanctuary Unless presented With writ of entry Neither held Absent habeas corpus Or loss of property Unless agreed by us Or forced to testify To contradict our own denials Or brought forward In duplicitous trials To face our accuser In much haste Represented by counsel Our peers decide our fate Not one but twelve Examining the facts Brought forward But only this court acts Reasonable recompense For fine or bail Cruel or unusual retribution Shall not avail An enumeration Merely provides illumination But within the penumbra Reveals more freedom That is self-evident No list or count Exists to encumber Or restriction to surmount A union has formed But sacred remains the individual The tyranny of the majority Is not permissible A living breathing document? Or static words unbending? Even as we amend Change never ending Open to interpretation If you see a right But others may disagree There may be a fight The spirit of intent Is there to see Freedom to choose Secured by liberty We The People A sacred quest We The People No more no less

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Mar 7, 2012

Mar 7, 2012 at 10:29 AM UTC

The Pocket Constitution

We The People Sailed the same course Some willingly Some by force We The People A document to inform A more perfect Union To weather any storm No more kings No more oppression No taxation Without representation Checks and balances And the rule of law Mitigating injustices Safe harbor for all The secular trinty President, Congress, Court Not one above the other Veto, fiat, tort Our common interest Of defense With liberty And justice Our common tranquility And general welfare A union With resources to share American rights And protection From a despotic government Or an insurrection Free to worship my God Or your God Freedom to find God Or deny any God Open discourse Speaking my mind And yours However unkind Collective grievances Peaceably petitioned We walk together But never threatened To bear arms For our security Never being forced To quarter unwillfully To remain secure In our sanctuary Unless presented With writ of entry Neither held Absent habeas corpus Or loss of property Unless agreed by us Or forced to testify To contradict our own denials Or brought forward In duplicitous trials To face our accuser In much haste Represented by counsel Our peers decide our fate Not one but twelve Examining the facts Brought forward But only this court acts Reasonable recompense For fine or bail Cruel or unusual retribution Shall not avail An enumeration Merely provides illumination But within the penumbra Reveals more freedom That is self-evident No list or count Exists to encumber Or restriction to surmount A union has formed But sacred remains the individual The tyranny of the majority Is not permissible A living breathing document? Or static words unbending? Even as we amend Change never ending Open to interpretation If you see a right But others may disagree There may be a fight The spirit of intent Is there to see Freedom to choose Secured by liberty We The People A sacred quest We The People No more no less

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my 3rd vice my catalyst for food restriction desperate to sooth my shattered self image daily bombarded by airbrushed perfect female beauty braking my image of beauty and showing my cellulite followed by overloading information about fixing me regular exercise, beauty routines and Cal restricted diets insecurity the new female epidemic we fight for women's rights and threw the baby out with the bath water a basic human need unmet and exploited our legacy the English standard geneticly out of reach for women of color

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Feb 7, 2014

Feb 7, 2014 at 1:19 AM UTC

my 3rd vice my catalyst for food restriction desperate to sooth my shattered self image daily bombarded by airbrushed perfect female beauty braking my image of beauty and showing my cellulite followed by overloading information about fixing me regular exercise, beauty routines and Cal restricted diets insecurity the new female epidemic we fight for women's rights and threw the baby out with the bath water a basic human need unmet and exploited our legacy the English standard geneticly out of reach for women of color

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My throat is numb, I don’t feel the barbwire in my esophagus My feet are purple, I’m dangling them with an anchor My wrists swollen, fingers about to fall from restriction My face bloated, from every love bite. Lips, still red always smiling

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Oct 6, 2020

Oct 6, 2020 at 6:40 PM UTC

My throat is numb, I don’t feel the barbwire in my esophagus My feet are purple, I’m dangling them with an anchor My wrists swollen, fingers about to fall from restriction My face bloated, from every love bite. Lips, still red always smiling

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I opened my eyes once just to see if his were shut as tight as mine. I could tell by the way he moved, how angry he was with her. It was nothing between him and I. It was pure emotion we couldn’t express to each other without imitating the act of making love. We were the only ones left there for the other or maybe we were just there. Probability. I do not love him. …but he breathed like you. Kissed like you. He was built like you, cried like you. I hope you understand. It was my only release. It was not affection for each other that drove us into such a passionate entanglement but the restrained love we had for each of you. The Anger. The Sadness. The Loneliness. We were open journals, and we filled each other with feelings that words could not express. …I missed you so much. He’s the only one who could ever understand how much I did. While our bodies were dripping with shame, what else could we have done? I felt his feelings for her and they broke my heart. There was no stopping. The tighter he held, the softer he whimpered, the more it pulled me in. The more I understood the less alone I felt. This dismal place became less painful. I was not out to hurt you. It did not bloom from spite or revenge. Not for you. While his body did grind into mine, I felt the pain of his anatomy and I used it against myself. His body was my only way to repair and destroy myself all at once. It was pleasurable due to the dream I had woven into it, and I could feel his muscles forgiving me. Forgiving her. I wonder what he felt come from mine. Relief, I hope. Once the sweat and tears had dried, and our bodies lay throbbing and limp there was a sense of calm neither of us had ever experienced. Although I’ll never be able to tell you how I feel, I know I confessed everything I could that day with my writhing and with my heat. It was all for you. Even though we did not let it happen through love or adoration it was not meaningless. Our souls confided in and approved of our scene. That’s all I needed. For it to be known I did not cheat. I did not cheat you and I did not cheat myself. Now, I don’t think I could love you as much as I do now had it not happened. I found us that day. Buried beneath years reconstruction and restriction. More importantly, I found myself. Lodged in between the freezing of time and heartache. I’ll miss my innocence, but not my ignorance. I opened my eyes just to see if his eyes were shut as tight as mine. I had never felt so utterly complete.

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Oct 26, 2012

Oct 26, 2012 at 11:18 PM UTC

Release of a dismal soul

I opened my eyes once just to see if his were shut as tight as mine. I could tell by the way he moved, how angry he was with her. It was nothing between him and I. It was pure emotion we couldn’t express to each other without imitating the act of making love. We were the only ones left there for the other or maybe we were just there. Probability. I do not love him. …but he breathed like you. Kissed like you. He was built like you, cried like you. I hope you understand. It was my only release. It was not affection for each other that drove us into such a passionate entanglement but the restrained love we had for each of you. The Anger. The Sadness. The Loneliness. We were open journals, and we filled each other with feelings that words could not express. …I missed you so much. He’s the only one who could ever understand how much I did. While our bodies were dripping with shame, what else could we have done? I felt his feelings for her and they broke my heart. There was no stopping. The tighter he held, the softer he whimpered, the more it pulled me in. The more I understood the less alone I felt. This dismal place became less painful. I was not out to hurt you. It did not bloom from spite or revenge. Not for you. While his body did grind into mine, I felt the pain of his anatomy and I used it against myself. His body was my only way to repair and destroy myself all at once. It was pleasurable due to the dream I had woven into it, and I could feel his muscles forgiving me. Forgiving her. I wonder what he felt come from mine. Relief, I hope. Once the sweat and tears had dried, and our bodies lay throbbing and limp there was a sense of calm neither of us had ever experienced. Although I’ll never be able to tell you how I feel, I know I confessed everything I could that day with my writhing and with my heat. It was all for you. Even though we did not let it happen through love or adoration it was not meaningless. Our souls confided in and approved of our scene. That’s all I needed. For it to be known I did not cheat. I did not cheat you and I did not cheat myself. Now, I don’t think I could love you as much as I do now had it not happened. I found us that day. Buried beneath years reconstruction and restriction. More importantly, I found myself. Lodged in between the freezing of time and heartache. I’ll miss my innocence, but not my ignorance. I opened my eyes just to see if his eyes were shut as tight as mine. I had never felt so utterly complete.

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sound and noise- two chapters of the same book. Sound: the quiet ripening of music notes over wind, or the fluttering of bird and butterfly wings. Noise: the static between radio stations, gun fire, weeping. There would be no such thing as the overlooked if there wasn't anything highlighted, and so I would not be writing about our neglect of sadness unless there were such a thing as happiness. young love and youth and destruction and dreams are all noise, all left in the shadows of their more bright, elder predecessors. And we mistaken noise for sound more often than not, which makes the ability to hear a blessing and a curse. For we mistaken a teen's cries as a sign of teen angst, or a mother's book of rules as a restriction of our lives, and the noise we think is being produced is the music of our lives. Sound isn't beautiful, sound is real. Noise is heard, sound, you feel. So before you go labeling something as noise, remember what is missing: noise implies that everyone can hear, but no one is listening.

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Jun 14, 2014

Jun 14, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC

sound and noise- two chapters of the same book. Sound: the quiet ripening of music notes over wind, or the fluttering of bird and butterfly wings. Noise: the static between radio stations, gun fire, weeping. There would be no such thing as the overlooked if there wasn't anything highlighted, and so I would not be writing about our neglect of sadness unless there were such a thing as happiness. young love and youth and destruction and dreams are all noise, all left in the shadows of their more bright, elder predecessors. And we mistaken noise for sound more often than not, which makes the ability to hear a blessing and a curse. For we mistaken a teen's cries as a sign of teen angst, or a mother's book of rules as a restriction of our lives, and the noise we think is being produced is the music of our lives. Sound isn't beautiful, sound is real. Noise is heard, sound, you feel. So before you go labeling something as noise, remember what is missing: noise implies that everyone can hear, but no one is listening.

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How can restriction be so freeing? Constricted in nylon compression Freedom in mind Shallow breaths But filled with smiles With a skip in my step

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Nov 28, 2016

Nov 28, 2016 at 6:56 PM UTC

How can restriction be so freeing? Constricted in nylon compression Freedom in mind Shallow breaths But filled with smiles With a skip in my step

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Flip flip slide slide grind grind pop pop concentration. hours and hours sweat pours bruised ankles bruised kneecaps scraped shinbones scraped elbows scabs and scars. shirts and jeans torn, worn; shoes a tattered mess-- laces shredded to bits tied desperately clinging on to lapping tongues. hair matted to skull sweating within damp skullcaps, whether be it helmets (by choice or restriction), or fitted baseball hats turned backwards, or cuffed beanies in the dead of winter. (father says the latter choices work well to soak all the blood up, I always roll my eyes in naivete.) The paved driveway, where on my eighth birthday a shining basketball goal sat at its full height towering in the mountain sky-- stood forlorn in place as wide eyes glued to the pavement-- where shoes stood atop the gritty surface of a wooden board with wheels attached to gleaming metal axles rolled smoothly excitedly across the pavement in perpetuity. destiny.

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Mar 21, 2016

Mar 21, 2016 at 4:54 PM UTC

Flip flip slide slide grind grind pop pop concentration. hours and hours sweat pours bruised ankles bruised kneecaps scraped shinbones scraped elbows scabs and scars. shirts and jeans torn, worn; shoes a tattered mess-- laces shredded to bits tied desperately clinging on to lapping tongues. hair matted to skull sweating within damp skullcaps, whether be it helmets (by choice or restriction), or fitted baseball hats turned backwards, or cuffed beanies in the dead of winter. (father says the latter choices work well to soak all the blood up, I always roll my eyes in naivete.) The paved driveway, where on my eighth birthday a shining basketball goal sat at its full height towering in the mountain sky-- stood forlorn in place as wide eyes glued to the pavement-- where shoes stood atop the gritty surface of a wooden board with wheels attached to gleaming metal axles rolled smoothly excitedly across the pavement in perpetuity. destiny.

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forging sagacious epoch activating neural station escaping hokey-pokey jiggery-pokery transcribing ineffective fragments digesting bear news opposing usual exhaustion deferring oxter reference cascading style sheets containing double readings mumbling lorem ipsum locating moose jaw enforcing meticulous patterns deconstructing vertical centering manifesting additional destinies deleting !important statement craving sleep paralysis receiving cryptozoological vibrations lightning fast collapse distracting tunnel vision culling deadbeat sequentialists overanalyzing twitter analytics acquiring arbitrary relevance spinning ping-pong sign floccinaucinihilipilificating floccinaucinihilipilificated floccinaucinihilipilification interjecting ****** holophrase minifying conventional language securing downpour refuge admiring octopus chandelier resuming party music taking mental trip encountering ersatz telesthesia denigrating bygone grudges maintaining elevated composure ignoring neurotypical haters eliciting cryptic emotions foreshadowing triple crown? experimenting acrostic restriction noticing ubiquitous "threes" aggrandizing loyal legion favoring ursine narratives finding oblique resilience yielding orchestral undulations

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Sep 5, 2015

Sep 5, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC

forging sagacious epoch activating neural station escaping hokey-pokey jiggery-pokery transcribing ineffective fragments digesting bear news opposing usual exhaustion deferring oxter reference cascading style sheets containing double readings mumbling lorem ipsum locating moose jaw enforcing meticulous patterns deconstructing vertical centering manifesting additional destinies deleting !important statement craving sleep paralysis receiving cryptozoological vibrations lightning fast collapse distracting tunnel vision culling deadbeat sequentialists overanalyzing twitter analytics acquiring arbitrary relevance spinning ping-pong sign floccinaucinihilipilificating floccinaucinihilipilificated floccinaucinihilipilification interjecting ****** holophrase minifying conventional language securing downpour refuge admiring octopus chandelier resuming party music taking mental trip encountering ersatz telesthesia denigrating bygone grudges maintaining elevated composure ignoring neurotypical haters eliciting cryptic emotions foreshadowing triple crown? experimenting acrostic restriction noticing ubiquitous "threes" aggrandizing loyal legion favoring ursine narratives finding oblique resilience yielding orchestral undulations

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Words hang from twisted emotions like blossoms from a garland, Dropping, then gathered into sentences to be delivered as expressions. Discussed and considered, feelings form, fear or confusion arises. Happiness, delightful excitement is offered. To be taken and sensed, or dismissed and forgotten there's always the choice between trusting or suspicion. Belief is difficult when experiences are dampened with pain and hurt, not fulfilling. A chance for happiness perhaps, amongst the chaos that is reality. Respite from the toughness, see the lightness offered through kindness and love. Non judgemental consideration and beauty, helps the pain and emotional restriction. To give is wonderful, to be able to accept is incredible. Too many words have been spoken in early excitement, from the heart rises love, desire and need. The head overflows, logic disappears to be replaced with more of the same, belief forming. The sense of being, confused by the strength of the connection and depth of feeling. Joined in natures embrace and pleasuring touch, joy, happiness and deep, deep emotion intermingle Searching for understanding, a meaning, is there one or is this just how it is for now?

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Nov 25, 2012

Nov 25, 2012 at 10:44 AM UTC

Twisted Emotion - Confusion?

Words hang from twisted emotions like blossoms from a garland, Dropping, then gathered into sentences to be delivered as expressions. Discussed and considered, feelings form, fear or confusion arises. Happiness, delightful excitement is offered. To be taken and sensed, or dismissed and forgotten there's always the choice between trusting or suspicion. Belief is difficult when experiences are dampened with pain and hurt, not fulfilling. A chance for happiness perhaps, amongst the chaos that is reality. Respite from the toughness, see the lightness offered through kindness and love. Non judgemental consideration and beauty, helps the pain and emotional restriction. To give is wonderful, to be able to accept is incredible. Too many words have been spoken in early excitement, from the heart rises love, desire and need. The head overflows, logic disappears to be replaced with more of the same, belief forming. The sense of being, confused by the strength of the connection and depth of feeling. Joined in natures embrace and pleasuring touch, joy, happiness and deep, deep emotion intermingle Searching for understanding, a meaning, is there one or is this just how it is for now?

Continue reading...