"shelton" poems
A narcissist is a dummy bear on crack. They have gummies for brains.
Viewing the world with mooching eyes, flirting with greed and gluttony, playing games with the devil.
The narcissist is no friend
of the family.
They are crude and thick with pollution and toxic waste.
The Narcissist brings nothing but
suffering and pain.
If you bump into a narcissist
in the wild, run and don't
look back.
A narcissist wants attention and
they don't like bold and brave people.
They chose victims by kindness,
reputation and intelligence.
The smarter and more popular you
are the more likely a narcissist
will strike at you.
You have to be smarter than they,
set boundaries and strict rules.
Don't allow anyone to break your
security or your self esteem.
A narcissists biggest flaw is ego,
strike them in the ego ***** and
watch them turn blue and fall.
Find their weakness in their
gaslighting, use it to fight back.
They blame everyone but themselves for their actions.
©️ 2022 By Amanda Shelton
Aug 3, 2022
Aug 3, 2022 at 3:18 PM UTC
*From day one,
I warned you of my heat.
Why haven’t you learned
don’t play with me,
if you can’t take the heat.
The cards are on the table son,
pick your game,
but be careful my friend,
for the devil already won.
Have you ever danced with the devil
in the pale moonlight?
His violan bayed at the moon,
as the devil danced with the shadows
on the street.
He gambles with your soul,
he makes you move your feet.
Don’t dance with the devil,
unless you can handle the heat.
© By Amanda D Shelton
*
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 3:37 PM UTC
Depression,
I caught you swimming in my sorrow, you were drowning in
my tears.
There in my mind I laid down
my life but you stole my heart instead and I lost my mind amongst the shadows.
In the battle of my chemical imbalance I fight for my right to be happy again.
I am dancing in the dark
with myself, my heart beats
in the shadows as my breath
stands to the side, whispering
to me keep dancing.
Exhausted and frade sorrow
follows me, my flaws abuse me,
my mistakes scared me.
Society forgot about me,
I faded into the pitch of nothing.
A void of me, frightening memories
of taunting accusations from a
devilish monster.
Those eyes of blue devoured
my hopes and dreams,
he had no love for me.
His teeth bit into me,
his harsh lashing of accusations
embodied hate and broken ideas,
from the narcissist who said
he loved me.
The narcissist invaded my dreams,
with grinding bones from the
skeleton's he stored in his closet
of screams.
Scratching my brain with his
narcissistic rants and shoveling
wants trying to steal what
I achieved for himself.
The narcissist knows nothing of
love and passionate embraces.
For the narcissist only
knows how to break things.
A narcissist gaslights until crazy
devours everything.
©️ 2022 By Amanda Shelton
Jun 21, 2022
Jun 21, 2022 at 7:44 PM UTC
To relate,
to imagine something similar
to what is being shown,
to imagine what it might be like.
A metaphorical meaning is like
being a shadow
that tries to relate to a star.
A poem with metaphorical meaning
is written with more effort, research, and a deeper understanding
of language.
I have written more metaphorical
poems than average poetry.
I work harder on metaphorical
meaning than I would with basic techniques. I love a challenge
so that's why you see more metaphorical poems
written by me.
I have researched many languages
and meanings to words,
my techniques for writing
reflect my efforts.
I am a writer who writes with imagery and metaphor so often that
I am known to be an eccentric writer.
It's an exotic way of expression.
It helps my readers
to relate to what I am thinking.
Also, it is how my brain sees
the world.
I was not born with language
like most people are,
I am an autistic person.
I don't have a natural language
in my mind, I have learned how
to express myself through writing because of my handicap.
I am not perfect but
I try to improve myself
by learning and practice.
I am still learning not to criticize myself too much. I am never a good judge so I try not to think about it
too much. I analyze everything so
I think it's good for me to try
not to analyze my writing
as often as possible.
I end up changing my work
until it turns into something completely different than
it started out if I do.
I want people to see the effort
and time I give my poetry,
so I do my best to show it.
I am always happy to do
something new and challenging.
My grammar and spelling
has improved because
I am willing to take feedback.
I love it when people are honest
and tell me if I made a mistake because I can learn from
the mistake.
To grow and develop you need
a plan and a place to go
when you need space.
I have learned this and
I believe that is what helps me
to improve.
Metaphorically speaking,
I am like a leaf I change with the seasons and I am willing to grow
within a tight space.
I love being with other
leafs like myself.
That's why I join communities
like this one.
Thank you, Hello Poetry.
© 2018 By Amanda Shelton
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC
The truth is easy to prove
for it’s right in front of you,
it doesn’t hide or keep secrets.
I am probably the most honest
person you will meet,
for I am an autistic person.
I will tell you as it is
no sweetness or sugar daddy
involved.
You want to know how
to be true? Learn how to
think like cats do. Don’t
worry about how others
feel, instead question
their motives but with
respect for their uniqueness
and views.
Don’t try to look through
someone else’s eyes without
asking them what they see
and then try to imagine what
it would be like.
You could also change
the way you view yourself,
stop seeing just yourself,
imagine what it would be like
to see like a blind mouse,
imagine the possibilities
are limitless, try to look
beyond the normal.
For normal is Technical:
(of a line, ray, or other linear
feature) intersecting a given
line or surface at right angles.
My autistic love is
normal for me. My love
is unconditional
because I love with
an autistic view,
you can trust I will
never lie to you.
We who have an autistic view
see life for what it is
and we will tell the truth
doesn’t matter if you wanted
it.
When I say I love you,
that’s the truth.
That’s autistic love
for you. We love like
cats do.
© 2019 By Amanda Shelton
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 3:26 PM UTC
What if I fell in love with a poet?
Would his poetry bare witness to our intimacy?
Would he bare his soul to me,
through his words and ink?
Would I become his poem,
his inspiration and aspirations?
Would his lips bare and sweet,
leave a poetic dream for me;
to caress and meet him there?
Would we become naked and wild,
like a warm spring air
that breathes our passions
into its bloom?
What if I fell in love with a poet ?
Would we become one,
or would he spoil our love with
his wicked word’s?
What if I fell in love with a poet?
Would he be like his poetry;
rare, smooth, and grungy?
There's only one lover for me,
that would be poetry.
© By Amanda Shelton
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 4:13 PM UTC
weaving these paths with a lost sense of compass
insouciant stroll when leaves crunch under toe
earth and dirt, green smell
the sign says no horses
and an arrow points up
the sun's fingers comb
dry wood and ask:
what is complacency?
'Lost self-sense,' J said;
eyes drooping, Hoku mind heavy
if the turtle wants to feel the spirit
then he must walk slow
ride the current from
Indonesia to Ngulu
Jamming in the name of the Lord
like Robbie does
and identify renewed, redemption song
let us praise the Lord
the jungle is cleaning her feathers
she says: My favorite
I say: My pleasure
Laugh and pause--
no unheard cause
feel the light happening through you
and rebuild your pieces
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Written by: Vince Chul'theg, MasikaniCorcodile and CrackPipeKenny (SpiderManJump)
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
Maybe the program isn’t just
on the TV or computer screen
but our minds are the static
between the senses?
Your reality is not what controls
your actions, for you’ve been
given many different roads with
different views and people to meet,
so you are the programmer building
your code that dictates your direction.
God gave us freedom of mind
meaning you decide how it goes
and what you do is up to you
so use it wisely and you will grow.
Design a program that functions
well that grows from the roots
of your dreams.
Don’t expect happiness for that
grows from deep within and your
ability to let go, and you never
had full control, for life was
here before you were born.
You are your own faithful friend,
and others come along the road
of life, embracing their own
tapestry of code.
©️ By Amanda Shelton
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 10:16 PM UTC
Don't believe the doctor
if they say no one can die
from a broken heart.
I will tell you why.
One day I fell in love,
I fell hard, so hard
I became blinded
by it's beautiful display,
it caught my attention
and my wandering eye.
But soon it caught me
by surprise, it was broken,
and no batteries were included.
It took all I had,
told me lies,
stole my heart and
damaged my life.
Though I was broken,
life always passes by,
time heals all
but scares are left behind.
I might be softer from ware,
but I am not going to be softer
the next time love catches my eye.
I know better.
For now I suffer from high blood pressure.
Doctor can't figure out why.
© 2017 Amanda Shelton
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 3:54 AM UTC
*I knock it out of the ballpark
by expressing myself with
just a few words.
I write poetry to show my emotions
that I have trouble expressing
through my actions.
I am autistic and my brain is wired differently than yours.
Emotions are like the ocean,
my tides might rise higher than yours.
I have learned how to ride the waves,
like a pro I surf as I ride with pride.
I am a poet not by choice but
by chance because I am an autistic poet and emotions are my tool.*
© 2017 By Amanda Shelton
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 3:33 AM UTC
*I take a deep breath into my nose
to smell the freshness of clean sheets.
Aw yes, I love that smell,
that warm fresh scent,
that crisp air smell.
There's nothing else that can compare,
to the smell of fresh clean sheets
it's an aroma I will never forget.
I remember when I was a kid,
my mother took me to the laundromat
to clean my sheets.
I couldn't believe the smell,
how I loved that smell,
my mom couldn't get me to leave.
We watched TV while the cloths were turning
around and around,
but I stared at the machine
when my mom put in my bedsheets.
I knew when they were through
I would be in heaven smelling the clouds.
I love clean sheets.*
© By Amanda Shelton
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 10:19 PM UTC
Everytime I hear that old song,
I picture the lyrics tattooed on your skin
And embedded all over
My every waking thought
Its like those calloused hands
Had more to say in the fleeting moments
That they held mine
Than I have ever heard in my life
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
In between the teeth of weeping
angles lurks death and permanent
night. Such tragedy is this life.
Wolves vent their howls,
as I awaken.
Ti's a night of dark desire,
my weeping soul rises from the
depths of the earth.
As the moon bow's in its
throne of star's, eternal
darkness surrounds me
I arouse and the light
bends for my shadow.
Cold breath of winter shrouds
my form, a lurking beast
with a lust for blood.
My black ***** hair cascades
over tragic shoulders,
as my lips part slightly
revealing my true nature.
To taste the flesh beneath me
as blood streams from my plumped
lips, is ghastly and ghoulish.
But no peace do I ponder,
forever I wander.
Now a night of misery and plight,
I grow weary of the night.
So I go down to the river where
it is warm and green, and I enjoy
the night until morning brings
ash and light.
Goodbye! The end!
Au revoir! La fin!
©️ 2022 By Amanda Shelton
Aug 14, 2022
Aug 14, 2022 at 11:47 PM UTC
I am not nutty, I'm allergic to nuts.
I am batty. Duh!
© By Amanda Shelton
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 6:03 PM UTC
Upon the night the poet writes,
within my darkened room
under candlelight all is revealed.
From my ink comes black and blue, with bruises from my passed I stain these walls.
Memories never leave me,
pain and suffering is like a
shadow always following me.
Writing is a release, a bandaid
to help me heal.
These emotional hills are a
struggle to claim, but I grew bat
wings so watch me fly.
©️ 2021 By Amanda Shelton
Nov 19, 2021
Nov 19, 2021 at 8:35 PM UTC
You cling to me like cellophane,
wrapping yourself around myself
with your electric forked tongue,
as you drag each of my neurons
out into the world;
exposed they are,
as I am left to feel their
nakedness and chills.
I feel their
bite and electric fields;
their pain has become my friend.
© 2017 Amanda D Shelton
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 11:37 PM UTC
*Delightfull as the tree,
Delighted is the bee,
as the buzzing becomes a dance,
the bee thanks the tree
for its flowers nectar
gave him honey.
Buzzy bee's collect the nectar
so they can make their honey.
Bee kind to your neighbor,
for you never know
when you will run out of nectar.
© By Amanda D Shelton*
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 12:20 AM UTC
*"Beauty bloomed once upon a summer's night,
only to wither on the coming of winter's bite."
© By Amanda D Shelton*
Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 3:29 PM UTC
Oh no my porcelain is crumbling,
decay has come to eat me away.
My porcelain cracked,
my porcelain
turned black and yellow,
my porcelain fell to pieces
in your hands,
I started to crumble.
The glue didn’t last,
the hold wasn’t strong enough
to keep me from falling apart
like glass.
My porcelain was once new,
but with use,
my porcelain couldn’t handle
such abuse.
Come save me,
make me a heart of gold,
make me brilliant
and eternally yours,
a porcelain doll with a heart of gold.
I surrender to your fix,
to your application
and programming,
for I am broken and
I need your fix.
My porcelain heart is
broken and crumbled,
nothing is left but dust and ash.
Porcelain heart's weren't meant to last.
© By Amanda Shelton
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 3:34 PM UTC
*She’s agile and
seeking comfort,
over and over.
Like a violin she plays
with her web.
Black Widow
laying in her web,
weaving and sewing,
seeking her lover.
Black widow
see her weaving,
see her sewing,
waiting for her lover,
agile and seeking comfort.
Black widow
laying in her web,
binding and binding
so fast she’s winding.
Black widow
living in my window.*
© By Amanda D Shelton
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 9:31 PM UTC
{......} once and for ever
Shelton Street
with the mysterious light
during the dawn hour/
still dark /
but not dark completely/{,,,,{
Shelton street
By Maria Panoutsou.
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 6:54 AM UTC
I am sitting by a fire with a cup of chai,
in Africa somewhere, thinking
of twenty dead children.
The Turkana women keen in the dark.
‘Woitokoi,’ they say, ‘Woitokoi,’
a call of lament.
Oh, mom.
It’s your babies
It’s your babies
I rarely turn on the radio, but do tonight.
14th of December. Cooking coconut curry.
I watch the last red and gold fall behind skeleton trees
and step out into the cold with my guitar and Willie Nelson’s
‘Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys.’
Is anyone watching the sparrows falling?
You mothers who have lost a child,
you fathers who have lost a child,
have gone where none can follow
but One who loves you, loves me,
even school shooters, maybe;
One who hates evil
for what it destroys,
One who
(for this love
and hatred)
listens to His son say:
Father
Father
Why have you forsaken me.
One who says to you now:
though father and mother forsake you
yet I will not forsake you--
I am sitting by a fire in Shelton, Connecticut,
thinking of twenty dead babies.
Oh mom. Mom.
It’s your babies.
It’s your babies.
It’s your babies
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 11:11 AM UTC
I am not heartless,
life just taught me
to use my heart less.
I don’t always allow my heart
to make choices for me.
Life is saddened by love,
because when those
you care about die,
it hurts more than
if they were a stranger.
That’s why I always say,
love is not a happy journey
where the sun always shines.
It can be a barren landscape
wasting away with fattened pigs,
and chickens who lost their feathers.
Love can burn like the hot sun
in the Mojave Desert.
It can drink your blood
until you’re ready to pop.
Leaving you to die
from a broken heart.
© 2017 Amanda Shelton
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 3:12 AM UTC
*I, I will fly
beyond these dreams
that seem to never take flight.
I, I will fly
beyond the clouds,
beyond the blue sky,
above the horizon,
I become weightless
as I leave the boundaries
of the earth.
I, I will fly
like a caged bird set free
for the first time.
I, I will fly
like Superman,
I will be like a star
falling to earth
leaving behind
a trail of wishes.
I, I will fly
beyond the boundaries
of your emagination.
I, I will fly...*
© By Amanda D Shelton
Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 2:16 AM UTC