"romanticize" poems
I want to hit it hard, not romanticize about the blood ya feel me?
As you read that first line,
when you cross over to the second,
your nose will start to bleed just before my fist connects with your face.
I often dream about it, being feared.
The only reason that you're on the ground is because I put you there.
Quite frankly I'm fearful of myself.
My throat still holds the ache of the alcohol going down.
I swear to you I'm doing better.
I swear.
I can't swear in this house hold so I will talk so quickly creating run on sentences without punctuation or breath because I'm panicking over nothing in particular.
******
Add some shakes to your vocabulary and you've got it right.
My medication puts stray dogs under my finger nails, that's ok because dogs are happiness.
That's supposed to mean I'm happy.
I made myself write this, its horrifyingly scattered just like my head.
That's not right.
That's wrong.
Something is terribly wrong so I must fix it.
That's what I do,
I fix.
I'll just look at this as art.
Some persons trash is another ones treasure.
I'm too scared to write anymore.
This is garbage.
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
Nostalgia is a beautiful phenomenon
It's when life seemingly happier,
more adventurous, and less chaotic
People frequently romanticize and misplaced it
As a neverland, wonderland, you name it
More often than not, they think it's all they have left
As I grow older, I can see those fragment of memories
Vividly, so crystal clear that it almost feels real
But baby, nostalgia is a psychological illusion
So, come to your senses now
Recall this as a mantra
Breathe in, breathe out
He's not a history—he's a tragedy
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 8:33 AM UTC
I've found it,
My fatal flaw:
I'm a poet.
I romanticize and attempt to find beauty in the most hideous of situations,
Even when the beauty ceases to exist.
I fall in love with my own ideas and expectations,
To try to block out the reality.
So there it is,
My fatal flaw:
Poetry
I love it,
but it kills me
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 10:59 PM UTC
At the Zoo
Patriots and faux exhibit and binge on synonyms of liberty printed on beer and underwear
Advertising what should be unspoken and inspired to pervert and romanticize
Preludes to the parades and finale above us all
Weeks of saturated irony
Cuckoo bird irony and BBQ
As they reform Phoenix, rebirth of distractions and thievery
Predators in ally ways pursing America's diamonds and legs
Then gunpowder
Gunpowder of colors and cuckoos
Layers of streets in gunpowder
Towns built of gunpowder
Sky is gunpowder
We are born addicted to led and gunpowder
Gunpowder ****** in the air
Success, display and diversion and more gunpowder to ingest.
The Grand Finale
The Volta of the evening
The hammer of the judge
*** appeal of death and nature flexing it's muscles-
show us some skin!
Covering your ears
Eyes fastened-
Ready to burrow back to mothers womb
Binged and free
Chinese celebration hijacked
Red, White and Blue
And a moment of silence
Orchestrated onomatopoeia in heaven
Chorus of arousal on Earth
Band marching war machines in hell
The showdown of 241 years!
This freedom we are all grateful to only talk about
Only free to battle shackling intoxication
Men and women tugging extra weighted offspring
Sulking for indoors and portable addiction
Chanting three letter obedience
God being counted by his blessings
Fear and Statism in every breathe for salvation from our stick swatted enemies
Checkpoints that serve and protect asking for a toll;
liberty synonyms.
Arresting the too free
At the Zoo,
The cuckoos regaining reality.
The phoenix red eye and held under oath
To the next day where we are back
To hate each others freedom, again.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
No Romance,
just the way
you liked it.
Just the way
You ripped off
Your dress
And left me to
romanticize it
balled up
on my floor
Just the way
you teased and
denied
my poetic soul
You said it
felt so foreign
Like you were
never worthy
of the prose
You left me
Writhing and
Alone
and
I know
you know
You’re not perfect
I just wanted
you to feel
like a goddess
I worshiped
beyond words
even if you didn't
believe in something.
Believe me,
I did my best not to be
bitter
But your cynicism
was never ****
No one cares
What you don't
Like
You would
look into the
Grand Canyon
and just see a void.
Avoiding
the obviously
numinous
Like where
your heart
was
Before it was
split with a river
streaming your
constantly
pessimistic
consciousness.
Maybe I was too sweet
finishing last
like a nice guy
that you just
left salty
To
slide
down
the
throat
of your
thesis statement:
NO ROMANCE
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 12:35 AM UTC
Nothing more beautiful
Than a pair of big brown eyes
Our world tells us that for eyes to be beautiful they have to match the skies but that's all lies
There's nothing more beautiful than staring into her eyes and seeing how her soul is connected to the earth
Mother nature's nectar, and me just a hummingbird
Only needing one, I don't need to be a collector cause you see
Her beautiful brown eyes are deeper than blue skies
her beautiful brown eyes are compassionate and wise
I could not vocalize, all her brown eyes symbolize, or how much I love staring them as she wakes me up at sunrise
And when I'm with her it's hard to prioritize, all I want to do is romanticize, hop on our cloud and rise
I'm so happy I met you, my darling, the girl with the brown eyes
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 1:43 AM UTC
romanticize our problems
until they are colored in pink and purple hues
baby blue mornings filled with you
fantasize our perfect life together
what if reality is the fake
coffee, music, and solitude can be found
any Saturday safely in your arms
awoken by kisses soft and gentle
until clothes end up getting lost somewhere
dancing around the living room
in our pajamas, without masks on
I wish this was still true
but this is not reality, this is not truth
this is me romanticizing past loving
like dreaming of Paris in the rain
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 1:24 PM UTC
it’s difficult
to romanticize the past
or even
remember it as
genuine
when i keep discovering
more and more each day
that everything
you said,
and everything you
promised,
and everything
i thought was true,
was not.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 10:30 PM UTC
My poems idealize your tongue on my tongue
your breath in mine,
these verses will romanticize how we skipped from street to street
our arms swinging between your left hip and my right
like I did not think about how my parents
never doubled their strength to pull me up above ground as
we walked through parking lots. I
needed to fly and no adult could let me but you.
The sudden hurt, I have not yet dramatized that morning
you returned my voicemail unsuspecting
unknowing my intention to whisper I hate you I hate you I hate you.
Every bone in my body had broken because we could not
levitate any longer: you were not even strong
enough to keep yourself grounded. I make you sound beautiful
I make you sound ugly, but neither is real, just as
how there are no words for the New Year ball dropping.
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
people romanticize self-harm
as if it's nothing special
and really, no one is alarmed
everyone's stopped being careful
it's not just about the blood
it really eats your heart out
the suffering makes your head flood
and everything seems so loud
you can't just seek pitiful attention
saying "oh, look, i'm depressed"
you really do deserve a lecture
because the real deal would say so much less
cutting ruins your body
it also pierces your soul
you seek a friend or just anybody
but you always end up alone
the cup of coffee in the morning
is the only thing keeping you alive
the rest of the time you're crying
trying to get thoughts out of your mind
you've got a stash of blades
hiding under your bed
today your sister got engaged
and you might end up dead
you try to down twenty pills
with a chug of burning *****
maybe then you'd see flowery hills
but it's just likely to cause you trauma
you stare at your own blank wall
trying to find a slimmer of hope
and nobody's there to watch you fall
as you exit this life with some dope
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 4:27 PM UTC
I want crazy, I want cranky
Let me be that old woman who gets mad easily
Let this misogynistic society grow so great it will never be over oh no
Crush me, objectify me
Romanticize the way I dehumanize myself
Discriminate me
I am the stigmas, don't free them from me
I will drink your *** and be happy
Break me, let me crumble
I am a lump of inedible meat
Make a bet on my rushing blood
Don't lose, don't lose oh you will win for sure
Just say it and ***** on my mouth
Don't let me have worth without you
I am lesser than a slave, don't let me stare at your eyes
Play with my broken bones, cut my veins as you please
Make me beg, step on me
I am watermarked and it says your name
And yes this heart beats for you to stop
It can start again if you say so
You are the God, just do everything you want, just do everything you want
I can't not take it
I am inanimate
I am inanimate
I am inanimate
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 5:04 AM UTC
for those who are concerned; I dispersed within the vastness of outer space.
My body, once caged all the stars, are finally in its resting place.
Maybe here, I am finally seen by those who romanticize the deathly night.
I am at a tranquil state, where all the planets are aligned just right.
No deaths, no violence, no wars, no fights.
No existential pain or crisis to plague a human's state of mind.
I am bound within the molecules of space and time, dancing on asteroids, I am entwined.
Finally, my body is free from the darkest of pains that had wallowed in my rib cage.
All the bottled emotions that had forever kept me enraged.
I have exploded into a beautiful mess, now the size of silica.
I am in motion, twinkling for those bellow in such a sorrowful world, as they paint me in Starry Night replicas.
They'll be envious to hear that I am conversing with Van Gogh himself.
We are in the cloudless night, a painting in a museum, and history within books on a bookshelf.
We're sprinkled in the dark like a beautiful combustion.
All the answers written in the stars for what we once questioned.
He tells me "be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high."
And that was enough for me to just get by.
I am a galaxy, freed in the vastness of the universe.
Into this new life of neighboring planets and meteors, my body will immerse.
I am the stars you see on your lonely nights.
And this time, please take your time to analyze my light.
I know I'm a mess, but I can make it beautiful.
For what it's worth, I once took the form of a dying artist, whom was so mutable.
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 7:55 PM UTC
A Response to Thought Catalog
Number One.
"She won't touch your stuff
because she doesn't want to do anything"
Which also includes leaving her bed
before six pm
meeting your friends
or seeing the movie you've been begging her to see
since the trailer came out last year
Number Two
"She'll probably forget you borrowed
money from her"
or to pay the bills,
or your birthday
or getting groceries
Number Three
"She's a cheap date"
more than likely because
she doesn't care where you go
but she wants to be back in her bed
the minuet she gets into your car
because now her insecurities
are buzzing in her ears
and clawing at her throat
Number Four
"She probably doesn't want to
meet your family"
sitting in her room terrified that
she's not good enough
that she will never be good enough
and they won't accept her
Number Five
"She will probably get drunk
and you can have *** with her"
Number Six
"You can get free drugs!"
she knows about her missing
pain pills and antidepressants
but she won't say a thing because
you love her, right?
it's selfish of her to think she needs those
she has you. right?
Number Seven
"She has poor memory
and a short attention span"
Unaware of whether its Monday or Thursday
or if she ate this week
Number Eight
"She won't talk that much"
instead she can soak up your words
and turn them against herself
until they infect her insides with acidic words
ugly/fat/ugly/stupid/ugly/useless/ugly/worthless
Number Nine
"She'll pamper you because
she's sensitive"
Here's the newest game you wanted
I hope it makes up for me not being good enough
Here's some money, go out with friends
I don't want to bring you down
Number Ten
"It'll make you look better"
She's a charity case
a lost cause
who lost herself
but she's so lucky she found you
She's like an accessory
that you drag around
she'll make you look perfect
won't she?
It's supposed to be simple.
Dating the dead girl walking.
besides the fact she'll
bawl her eyes out every time
you grab your keys
or the fact you have to deal with
the burden of having to hide
your mother's steak knives
so you can sleep in peace
without worrying whether
you will find her lifeless body
on your bathroom floor
Number ten
You can romanticize
the pain she goes through everyday
while her hourglass hearts
last grain of sand falls to the bottom
but you will NEVER
be able
to say you were the hero.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
I am a grounded explorer:
I dream of travelling the stars,
but alas there are few tickets to even Mars.
I romanticize the explorers of yor,
who roamed the oceans to explore.
Oh to be with Captains Lewis and Clark,
an expedition through the wilderness to embark!
The maps are made and the earth is mapped;
The Final Frontier is barely unwrapped.
It is not a do-it-yourself sort of thing,
I cannot just into space my body fling.
To explore the unknown would yield such glee,
But I console myself: at least the world's new to me.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
I know where to find you
drunk in the garden
having another existential crisis
conversing with the plastic pink flamingos
they think you're 'hollow'
and that your exterior is too polished
he sees his own reflection when he looks at you
Your youth was made up of
cringe-worthy hair styles and room temperature beer
with the taste of **** and vinegar
and the prospect of milk and honey
alas, you're 24 now
perfecting the art of escapism
disenchanted, delusional
You're just clearing your throat
to say nothing at all
ahem
and continuing to romanticize recycled lifestyles
in the name of authenticity
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 10:23 AM UTC
He was angry because the boy with glasses and a gamer shirt had told me he wished he had a girl like me.
It’s not you, it’s me. And the fish bowl that was twice the size of your head.
Punching the wall, I knew
jealousy was a
understatement.
it crawls under your bed and waits until it is four in the morning and you have nothing left
Except tears and yearning for something different,
yet you know you cannot have anything different,
because the thought of mornings without him,
and the thought of phone calls absent of his vocals
makes you want to rip open your ribs until you color his
freckles.
He was angry because he was threatened,
and it was so stupid, so animalistic.
I am not territory, not a tree you lift your leg to mark on.
I am a human, a human, a human, I just want to be
loved.
the door broken, his lips bleeding,
he kissed me until I thawed.
his shoulders shook as he cried and cried and cried,
please be mine, please be mine, please be mine.
jealousy is what we romanticize about,
yet it is the monster we will
become.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 12:23 PM UTC
Those stretch marks are not tiger stripes.
Instead, they are the waves and ripples in the reflection of the ocean on the side of a boat.
They are proof,
of a death before birth.
Proof of a still born baby's water birth,
and how the pool of blood and fluid leftover from the trauma,
became salt water poisoned by tears.
The red lines are the way her eyes looked.
Blood shot and bruised from the previous blows.
They are proof that she lived.
That the ***** donor that does not deserve the title of father, lived.
And that the baby girl is dead.
She never got to see her eyes open.
Do not romanticize those stretch marks,
saying that they are stripes that were earned.
They are nothing but scars of a horrifying event that she is reminded of every time she sees a baby,
and every time she looks at her body,
because she is no tiger.
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 10:15 PM UTC
It's easy to romanticize the mundane
When you're young nothing is the same
Now I cringe thinking about my life
Only age 12 and writing poems about suicide
It's not like life wasn't really hard back then,
It was but I didn't know how much harder
It would become when I was older
Dec 14, 2023
Dec 14, 2023 at 7:48 AM UTC
I truly over-romanticize
I think about them day and night
And it isn’t wise
Because I know I’m not crossing their mind
So why can’t they leave mine?
The idea of them dances around in my head
From the moment I wake up
To the moment I go to bed
Oh to have my dreams come true
I don’t know what I’d do
If I were to finally be with you
Jul 14, 2021
Jul 14, 2021 at 4:29 PM UTC
I don't know what love is and I'm not sure I'll ever know but your name is burning in the back of my throat and
I want you to take my body and rip my chest apart because it would feel better than the absence of your words
when we speak but nothing is said.
I couldn't tell you why I left because I'm still trying to figure that out and I'm losing you when I never had you.
I'm lying here in this bed thrashing where you would be and I don't know what to do with myself
I need you to say you'll calm me down but how is that possible if our skin has never even met
I don't know how long I can romanticize 189 miles and you're fading faster than the early morning fog and I don't know how to stop it
There's a lot of ******* things I don't know- but I know I don't want to go on with out you.
What have you done to me
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
Bold and blunt;
soft, and we romanticize the taste.
Tracing the curves -
valleys among mocha plains -
and passion reverberates
deep within the shade.
Innocence is corrupted
(we've all reached for forbidden fruit)
and it tastes as sweet as
You pass yourself off to be.
The draw of your baby blue eyes and
the pink of your naked lips
offer a look into what you used to be
or might have been.
But I suppose some sort of
saint
or
sin
came around and darkened the tint;
seductive and sultry,
and everybody wants a chance...
And I bet You know it.
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 11:40 AM UTC
She romanticize the orchestra of her muffled cries, caught her canvases
bruised with purple and red,
Her bare chest was beautifully wounded by a serrated cage, arranging her disorganized open heart.
Her heart is malleable from tragic delights, she ripped herself open, willing to give it whole.
Will you take it all and leave it as it is?
Does it oblige you to wrap your arms around me like a tightening noose?
And as she draw marks of red stains and carve on her skin, her limbs were perched perfectly, as you adore it with a painful stare.
And her hands were pure certainty, remained untouched.
Mar 31, 2022
Mar 31, 2022 at 4:56 AM UTC
The night
is a torn tapestry
where celestial bodies
burn beautifully
incinerating
the cosmic stitching
that bind us,
quantum energy
unraveling
all of reality,
as I stare
stupidly enthralled
by the awesome
complexity.
Silvers spheres
of gaseous spirals
spew atomic fury.
Other poets
and painters
have presented it better,
such a sweet
starry starry night
made to delight
all of us,
but this time
I return
my reflections
with the love
and devotion
born of
a dreamer’s
dark predilection
to romanticize
every aspect
of our lives.
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 12:51 PM UTC
We romanticize our sadness
To share it with the world
Let others know we understand
Or maybe get a little pity
Because what’s wrong with
A little fake love every now
And then?
(r.e.)
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 11:21 AM UTC
Don't fall in love with the broken boy.
I will tell you from experience,
Don't do it.
You may think you will fix him,
You can bind up his wounds,
That your love will fix all that's broken in his life,
But I'll tell you,
It's all a lie.
You can't change a man,
You never can.
They'll tell you that time and time again and you'll shake your head and scoff thinking,
"They don't know what I can do."
You can't.
You yourself are broken.
You thought he'd fall in love with you and that your anxiety isn't that big of a deal.
That maybe it'll even be a part of you that he'll love you because of and in spite of.
It's not something to romanticize.
He'll try to fit into the mold he thinks you have for men,
And he'll give up once he believes he'll never fit into that.
And he'll break your heart leaving you in the process.
He claims this is only temporary and that it'll be over soon,
He just needs to figure himself out.
But if it's not goodbye, why does it feel like you're nowhere to be found?
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 2:05 PM UTC