"shortsightedness" poems

The ways you see life determines what you value, what you value determines what you learn, What you value determines what you live for What you live for determines how you live So if you see life as: A poem, you learn words A problem you solutions A relation,you learn communication A game, you learn tricks A battle, you learn to fight A job, you learn duty A race,you learn speed A marathon, you learn endurance A study, you learn logic An act, you learn emotions A music, you learn notes A dance you learn steps A beat, you learn to dance A community you learn people A weather, you learn shelter A storm you learn strength A turn, you learn patience A trade you learn money A jungle you learn survival An ocean, you learn to swim A mountain you learn scaling A valley, you learn graceful descent A commitment you learn honesty A death zone, you learn killing A mystery, you learn adventure An adventure, you learn living A fashion you learn dressing A competition you learn scarcity A cooperation you learn abundance A team work you learn networking A lie, you learn to the truth A truth, you learn freedom The goal to being free is to learn your lies, challenge and face them A job you learn duty, When you see life as comparison, you learn envy Destructive envy leads to priority misplacement, This leads to value misplacementzthe root cause of shortsightedness and selfishness So, see right to learn right to live right

0

May 28, 2020

May 28, 2020 at 3:31 AM UTC

Genie

SOMETHINGELSE'S GUIDE TO LIFE

The ways you see life determines what you value, what you value determines what you learn, What you value determines what you live for What you live for determines how you live So if you see life as: A poem, you learn words A problem you solutions A relation,you learn communication A game, you learn tricks A battle, you learn to fight A job, you learn duty A race,you learn speed A marathon, you learn endurance A study, you learn logic An act, you learn emotions A music, you learn notes A dance you learn steps A beat, you learn to dance A community you learn people A weather, you learn shelter A storm you learn strength A turn, you learn patience A trade you learn money A jungle you learn survival An ocean, you learn to swim A mountain you learn scaling A valley, you learn graceful descent A commitment you learn honesty A death zone, you learn killing A mystery, you learn adventure An adventure, you learn living A fashion you learn dressing A competition you learn scarcity A cooperation you learn abundance A team work you learn networking A lie, you learn to the truth A truth, you learn freedom The goal to being free is to learn your lies, challenge and face them A job you learn duty, When you see life as comparison, you learn envy Destructive envy leads to priority misplacement, This leads to value misplacementzthe root cause of shortsightedness and selfishness So, see right to learn right to live right

43

even tho the fire was never really lit truly human, their tousled hair and sad eyed lowland blues owning the fullness of natural emptiness ain’t no crime, like a double negative, to which no one no cares no objects when spoken those bad boysenberries radiate a flirty tarty aure, venus fly traps for those needy to do a saving, the sweets of the the three poems memorized for wooing, oft another’s undoing, the top button releasing a burning bush of chest heat being misleading the reddening cheeks was a bad boy once of ill repute, daddies and mommies warning their innocents of my word of mouth reputation, making me 100% irresistible, so all forgot when climbing into my two-seater to go moon gazing swooning, learning the moves practiced in nightime bad boys still need saving sooner but usually later, cause moon gazing is still a thrill for his new audience of grand children, proof that some of them boys are hiding well enough stuff beneath their veneer be the miner of a thousand years, teach these child boys well, crack them open, let the empty escape and light rays spill in **** if some of those bad boys grow up now, just to be bad poets laughing at the foolishness of the early days of discontented shortsightedness incontinence of a soul fumbling

0

Mar 16, 2019

Mar 16, 2019 at 12:55 PM UTC

poetoftheway

even bad boys need saving

even tho the fire was never really lit truly human, their tousled hair and sad eyed lowland blues owning the fullness of natural emptiness ain’t no crime, like a double negative, to which no one no cares no objects when spoken those bad boysenberries radiate a flirty tarty aure, venus fly traps for those needy to do a saving, the sweets of the the three poems memorized for wooing, oft another’s undoing, the top button releasing a burning bush of chest heat being misleading the reddening cheeks was a bad boy once of ill repute, daddies and mommies warning their innocents of my word of mouth reputation, making me 100% irresistible, so all forgot when climbing into my two-seater to go moon gazing swooning, learning the moves practiced in nightime bad boys still need saving sooner but usually later, cause moon gazing is still a thrill for his new audience of grand children, proof that some of them boys are hiding well enough stuff beneath their veneer be the miner of a thousand years, teach these child boys well, crack them open, let the empty escape and light rays spill in **** if some of those bad boys grow up now, just to be bad poets laughing at the foolishness of the early days of discontented shortsightedness incontinence of a soul fumbling

22

I have trodden many a creature under foot A few, unbeknownst The bug has an intolerably short life span And shorter yet, under foot Do I traipse out of spite or cruel wonder? No, it is just my disregard and shortsightedness For I have been trampled upon, From creatures smaller than me They stir upon me, feelings of a bug A distant rumbling of thunder As I count the seconds after seeing the flash There is a heavy weight upon me Imagine what is stirred in a bug

0

Jul 3, 2014

Jul 3, 2014 at 7:07 AM UTC

john-k-trainer

The Stirrings of a Bug

I have trodden many a creature under foot A few, unbeknownst The bug has an intolerably short life span And shorter yet, under foot Do I traipse out of spite or cruel wonder? No, it is just my disregard and shortsightedness For I have been trampled upon, From creatures smaller than me They stir upon me, feelings of a bug A distant rumbling of thunder As I count the seconds after seeing the flash There is a heavy weight upon me Imagine what is stirred in a bug

13

Embrace it Except it with open outstretched arms Imagine the beautiful silence no one will hear The taste of ash on dead lips The sweat smell of decaying flesh The crumbling monuments of shortsightedness Finally all will be equal and free Finally all will be on the same side of the argument Finally all will have peace and justice Embrace it Except it with open outstretched arms All sins will be washed away in the blink of an eye Fire purifies all No more wars or violence No more overcrowded jails No more unpaid bills stacking up No more fuxing lawyers or traffic lights Black heart will finally have a fitting home Wretched souls will finally be obliterated Embrace it Except it with open outstretched arms Love the idea of it Look forward to it Rush toward it headlong Push your way to the front to make sure you get a good seat Help facilitate it Quicken its pace Point it in the right direction And push the big fuxing red button

0

May 30, 2015

May 30, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC

patrick-reynolds

Embrace It

Embrace it Except it with open outstretched arms Imagine the beautiful silence no one will hear The taste of ash on dead lips The sweat smell of decaying flesh The crumbling monuments of shortsightedness Finally all will be equal and free Finally all will be on the same side of the argument Finally all will have peace and justice Embrace it Except it with open outstretched arms All sins will be washed away in the blink of an eye Fire purifies all No more wars or violence No more overcrowded jails No more unpaid bills stacking up No more fuxing lawyers or traffic lights Black heart will finally have a fitting home Wretched souls will finally be obliterated Embrace it Except it with open outstretched arms Love the idea of it Look forward to it Rush toward it headlong Push your way to the front to make sure you get a good seat Help facilitate it Quicken its pace Point it in the right direction And push the big fuxing red button

29

Where are the mist gone? Where are the temperate resting? Where did the hours fall? Why fall into disappearance now, and not then? Where was the sight then when beauty unraveled and was available? They graves upon a dark mountain. Not of blackness you see, But of sweet chocolate and glowing skin of tenderness. They have rest upon the dark cheeks. Not of darkness you see, But of softness and amiable cheeks. They have been shortsightedness, Not of you but of me. It is like a river that runs from the nose of a highness peak, Falling down like a waterfall of silver lining that create ripples of smile and series of laughter. This is not a mountain of rocks, It is a mountain of flesh. This is not a mountain of dried leaves and dead plants, It is a mountain of a living heart upon a consumed soul. It is love. It is Sholaye's. Her smiles run through the sea and cause the ocean to fall heavy. Her dimples is less seen yet drinks the ocean dry. Her eyes are reflection of the best things that life can give... A momentum of peace, A monument of joy and laughter, A mortgage of what true love is. It doesn't cry, yet a droplet of tear is carried upon a chariot. Hola, did I mention her voice? It doesn't yell, yet it echoes across the valleys. It doesn't sing, yet everything that falls to her sound dances. I was blind before, but now I can see. But what do I see? A sense of emotion perhaps... Or a fence of what seemed to be loved? I can only wait at the sideline... But upon a thousand dreams, I will walk through the shores with you. I can only have a glimpse of your affections... But upon a thousand desires, it is most cherished. Aye, the mist are here. The temperate aren't resting, But the sun is rising. And my sight have caught its beauty.

0

Nov 18, 2017

Nov 18, 2017 at 4:03 PM UTC

Ophil12

Belated Feelings

Where are the mist gone? Where are the temperate resting? Where did the hours fall? Why fall into disappearance now, and not then? Where was the sight then when beauty unraveled and was available? They graves upon a dark mountain. Not of blackness you see, But of sweet chocolate and glowing skin of tenderness. They have rest upon the dark cheeks. Not of darkness you see, But of softness and amiable cheeks. They have been shortsightedness, Not of you but of me. It is like a river that runs from the nose of a highness peak, Falling down like a waterfall of silver lining that create ripples of smile and series of laughter. This is not a mountain of rocks, It is a mountain of flesh. This is not a mountain of dried leaves and dead plants, It is a mountain of a living heart upon a consumed soul. It is love. It is Sholaye's. Her smiles run through the sea and cause the ocean to fall heavy. Her dimples is less seen yet drinks the ocean dry. Her eyes are reflection of the best things that life can give... A momentum of peace, A monument of joy and laughter, A mortgage of what true love is. It doesn't cry, yet a droplet of tear is carried upon a chariot. Hola, did I mention her voice? It doesn't yell, yet it echoes across the valleys. It doesn't sing, yet everything that falls to her sound dances. I was blind before, but now I can see. But what do I see? A sense of emotion perhaps... Or a fence of what seemed to be loved? I can only wait at the sideline... But upon a thousand dreams, I will walk through the shores with you. I can only have a glimpse of your affections... But upon a thousand desires, it is most cherished. Aye, the mist are here. The temperate aren't resting, But the sun is rising. And my sight have caught its beauty.

42

When that day of reckoning comes (Hopefully, some light years distant, As I like anyone else, cling stubbornly if not desperately To this process of plodding aimlessly along) Where the book of myself is closed, I have asked, Though how I plan to enforce the wish remains an open question, That I am not Cadillac-carted to some incongruous green space Where some dark-clad and stiff-collared stranger Bounces pebble-laden soil onto the top of my bedding for the ages. Much better, at least to my way of thinking, That the remnants of my essentials Are strewn upon some cold Adirondack lake, Or perhaps if its current residents Are sympathetic and not particularly litigious, The backyard of my childhood home (I have not fleshed out that particular portion of the equation, As I, like most people, am much less emphatic about my do’s Than I am concerning my don’ts and won’ts.) On the odd occasion, I am visited by a curious dream Concerning my departure from this particular plane; There is a fire, though not some vast, heroic Viking pyre, (Even my reveries have a certain reserve about them) But something less prepossessing, Like some small pile of leaves, Such as my father burned when I was a young boy, And a black-suited cleric stands before the flames, His face only somewhat familiar, yet still comforting (A distant uncle or favorite teacher, perhaps) And he litters the embers with the residue of my corporeal self With words absolving the folly of my acts of commission (The stumbling footfalls of the blind; throw them on the fire) The shortsightedness of my omissions, (Boorishness of children and fools; throw them on the fire) The sum of my shortcomings and misadventures (Victims of our angels and gods; throw them on the fire) And the trails of smoke drift aimlessly upward, Toward birds who cackle and twitter unconsciously, Oblivious to all the machinations below.

0

Jul 27, 2021

Jul 27, 2021 at 1:58 PM UTC

wk-kortas

a small fire

When that day of reckoning comes (Hopefully, some light years distant, As I like anyone else, cling stubbornly if not desperately To this process of plodding aimlessly along) Where the book of myself is closed, I have asked, Though how I plan to enforce the wish remains an open question, That I am not Cadillac-carted to some incongruous green space Where some dark-clad and stiff-collared stranger Bounces pebble-laden soil onto the top of my bedding for the ages. Much better, at least to my way of thinking, That the remnants of my essentials Are strewn upon some cold Adirondack lake, Or perhaps if its current residents Are sympathetic and not particularly litigious, The backyard of my childhood home (I have not fleshed out that particular portion of the equation, As I, like most people, am much less emphatic about my do’s Than I am concerning my don’ts and won’ts.) On the odd occasion, I am visited by a curious dream Concerning my departure from this particular plane; There is a fire, though not some vast, heroic Viking pyre, (Even my reveries have a certain reserve about them) But something less prepossessing, Like some small pile of leaves, Such as my father burned when I was a young boy, And a black-suited cleric stands before the flames, His face only somewhat familiar, yet still comforting (A distant uncle or favorite teacher, perhaps) And he litters the embers with the residue of my corporeal self With words absolving the folly of my acts of commission (The stumbling footfalls of the blind; throw them on the fire) The shortsightedness of my omissions, (Boorishness of children and fools; throw them on the fire) The sum of my shortcomings and misadventures (Victims of our angels and gods; throw them on the fire) And the trails of smoke drift aimlessly upward, Toward birds who cackle and twitter unconsciously, Oblivious to all the machinations below.

38

I've dipped my brain into arcane, The power from another agent. The power to become a saint, Such sanity begets contagion. My mind is split across the planar, I see beyond what has transpired, No fear, or smear, or peers to cheer with. I see the end, and it is near. My friend, I knew that you would come. This work we've done, it led us down this path. Our minds were one, our paths were some, We reached too high and turned awrath. I stand above, yet still you lurk, I have become a perfect being. My mind is flawless magic clockwerk, I am a part of everything. And in a single hurricane No vain, no gain, no strain, no pain. The world has gone. The puppetmaster I have become and raised disaster. I won. In victory- defeated, Mistaken was in chosen path. I see you, friend from world we lived in And giveth you this sacred chance. A genius that is mistaken Is dangerous, but lies therein A chance for mind to reawaken From its misguided faulty dream. A genius is but a starter That still may choose a stupid path. It's wisdom, friend, that makes us smarter, Not knowledge of unclear past. The world will end, I send you inwards, In loop that threatens to unwind With you, my friend, becoming victor; Forgive shortsightedness of mine. Our understanding was... distorted. We stand together, now- as equals, Our brotherhood, once more, restored, We stare into the vast abyss. When deed is done, I'll wait you here, We've got so much we've to discuss Before we get to disappear Into the void amidst the stars. I hope there'll be a variation Of us within these mystic planes To wisely propagate creation And get to understand arcane.

0

Nov 23, 2024

Nov 23, 2024 at 12:58 PM UTC

Joy_Boy

Tribute to Arcane.

I've dipped my brain into arcane, The power from another agent. The power to become a saint, Such sanity begets contagion. My mind is split across the planar, I see beyond what has transpired, No fear, or smear, or peers to cheer with. I see the end, and it is near. My friend, I knew that you would come. This work we've done, it led us down this path. Our minds were one, our paths were some, We reached too high and turned awrath. I stand above, yet still you lurk, I have become a perfect being. My mind is flawless magic clockwerk, I am a part of everything. And in a single hurricane No vain, no gain, no strain, no pain. The world has gone. The puppetmaster I have become and raised disaster. I won. In victory- defeated, Mistaken was in chosen path. I see you, friend from world we lived in And giveth you this sacred chance. A genius that is mistaken Is dangerous, but lies therein A chance for mind to reawaken From its misguided faulty dream. A genius is but a starter That still may choose a stupid path. It's wisdom, friend, that makes us smarter, Not knowledge of unclear past. The world will end, I send you inwards, In loop that threatens to unwind With you, my friend, becoming victor; Forgive shortsightedness of mine. Our understanding was... distorted. We stand together, now- as equals, Our brotherhood, once more, restored, We stare into the vast abyss. When deed is done, I'll wait you here, We've got so much we've to discuss Before we get to disappear Into the void amidst the stars. I hope there'll be a variation Of us within these mystic planes To wisely propagate creation And get to understand arcane.

48

Close my eyes Unaltered, No faults A soul full of thoughts And whims And musical notes that consist of hymns. Desperation, perspiration Fear has left here-- The inhabitants of my heart Because tomorrow is for a new day to start To leave behind this mediocrity. Trails If you're feminine you're too frail And vulnerable You can't follow where your heart wants to take you Your dreams-- You have to stay home with them. In many ways our collective intellect is growing Seeds of reasoning have been sown Leaving very little left to be known But sometimes you need to disconnect from your society And be alone In order to truly understand That your mind is your only home. So goodbye to everyone narrow-minded Your attempts of kindness were spoiled by your shortsightedness and your closed hearts I don't need you I only need water to drink and air to breathe I'll set out on a trail and never look back Only up to observe the sky and the trees And one day on this journey, I'll find what I'm looking for inside of me.

0

Jun 20, 2015

Jun 20, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC

seariver

I'll Find What I'm Looking For

Close my eyes Unaltered, No faults A soul full of thoughts And whims And musical notes that consist of hymns. Desperation, perspiration Fear has left here-- The inhabitants of my heart Because tomorrow is for a new day to start To leave behind this mediocrity. Trails If you're feminine you're too frail And vulnerable You can't follow where your heart wants to take you Your dreams-- You have to stay home with them. In many ways our collective intellect is growing Seeds of reasoning have been sown Leaving very little left to be known But sometimes you need to disconnect from your society And be alone In order to truly understand That your mind is your only home. So goodbye to everyone narrow-minded Your attempts of kindness were spoiled by your shortsightedness and your closed hearts I don't need you I only need water to drink and air to breathe I'll set out on a trail and never look back Only up to observe the sky and the trees And one day on this journey, I'll find what I'm looking for inside of me.

31

i know you used to wake early and sit in the cold dark to scribble those playful loops into the truest of joys, the truest of pains. this morning i saw you as a young man, a young dad, with that infectious smile. your smile could put others at ease and disarmed the fear we all carry everywhere, all the time. i was so closed-off then, so hard in my belief that no one understood… i hope my shortsightedness didn’t make you think i was mean. i know watching you i learned kindness, i learned that warmth to strangers is a gift to the world. i know you tried to connect with me in the ways you knew, and i want you to know you succeeded. you are with me now as i try to do no harm in this world and live in a way you’d be proud. you are with me now as i write these words in the cold dark. good morning dad

0

Jun 30, 2019

Jun 30, 2019 at 1:39 PM UTC

jdparker

good morning dad

i know you used to wake early and sit in the cold dark to scribble those playful loops into the truest of joys, the truest of pains. this morning i saw you as a young man, a young dad, with that infectious smile. your smile could put others at ease and disarmed the fear we all carry everywhere, all the time. i was so closed-off then, so hard in my belief that no one understood… i hope my shortsightedness didn’t make you think i was mean. i know watching you i learned kindness, i learned that warmth to strangers is a gift to the world. i know you tried to connect with me in the ways you knew, and i want you to know you succeeded. you are with me now as i try to do no harm in this world and live in a way you’d be proud. you are with me now as i write these words in the cold dark. good morning dad

30

What this world so desperately needs is a true conversion We need a divine healer and, sometimes, a divine surgeon Right now, so many believe the world revolves around them And anyone who argues differently, we quickly condemn For all who miss the bigger picture, there is only one solution What we need right now is to renew a Copernican Revolution The idea that we are not the center of the universe It must seem so backwards, it must seem so reversed The earth revolves around the sun And we revolve around God's only Son For He is the glue that binds it all together He is the anchor in stormy weather What the world needs is a change of heart But the change in me is where it needs to start With Jesus at my center, I've got a radioactive core And then there is the glow which is pretty hard to ignore But not just once, I need it now and every day I have this true conversion when I humble myself and pray: I need your love, I need your mercy and grace I need your presence to fill my every space I need you Lord, more than breath, more than life I need you because, without you, I am but dust in the wind You still loved me even when, against you, I knowingly sinned Death and separation should be my eternal reward But in your sacrifice, you paid the price I could not afford So now I live, not I, but Christ that lives within me And by the blood of the Spotless Lamb, I have been set free You are in my heart and in the depths of my soul So Jesus, you are driving; help me give you all control Lord Jesus, creator of all the universe, thank you for making it the way you did. The earth and the planets revolve around the sun just as our lives are in balance when we revolve around your Son. So many people in the world today put other things in the center of their lives and put themselves at the center of their universe. As Christians and Humans, we can do this too. Forgive us for our shortsightedness and open our eyes to see the bigger picture. Show us, Lord, that our lives make more sense are more in balance, when we put you in the middle. All things came from you in the first place. You were the beginning; you were the first cause. Help us refocus our priorities Lord and have this true conversion we need. And let us lovingly witness to others this change in word and prayer and deed. We ask this and all things with confidence to Jesus; the Son who is the Center in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen

0

Nov 18, 2024

Nov 18, 2024 at 9:06 PM UTC

showyoulove

True Conversion

What this world so desperately needs is a true conversion We need a divine healer and, sometimes, a divine surgeon Right now, so many believe the world revolves around them And anyone who argues differently, we quickly condemn For all who miss the bigger picture, there is only one solution What we need right now is to renew a Copernican Revolution The idea that we are not the center of the universe It must seem so backwards, it must seem so reversed The earth revolves around the sun And we revolve around God's only Son For He is the glue that binds it all together He is the anchor in stormy weather What the world needs is a change of heart But the change in me is where it needs to start With Jesus at my center, I've got a radioactive core And then there is the glow which is pretty hard to ignore But not just once, I need it now and every day I have this true conversion when I humble myself and pray: I need your love, I need your mercy and grace I need your presence to fill my every space I need you Lord, more than breath, more than life I need you because, without you, I am but dust in the wind You still loved me even when, against you, I knowingly sinned Death and separation should be my eternal reward But in your sacrifice, you paid the price I could not afford So now I live, not I, but Christ that lives within me And by the blood of the Spotless Lamb, I have been set free You are in my heart and in the depths of my soul So Jesus, you are driving; help me give you all control Lord Jesus, creator of all the universe, thank you for making it the way you did. The earth and the planets revolve around the sun just as our lives are in balance when we revolve around your Son. So many people in the world today put other things in the center of their lives and put themselves at the center of their universe. As Christians and Humans, we can do this too. Forgive us for our shortsightedness and open our eyes to see the bigger picture. Show us, Lord, that our lives make more sense are more in balance, when we put you in the middle. All things came from you in the first place. You were the beginning; you were the first cause. Help us refocus our priorities Lord and have this true conversion we need. And let us lovingly witness to others this change in word and prayer and deed. We ask this and all things with confidence to Jesus; the Son who is the Center in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen

30

In between notebooks writing on the back of bank statement envelopes My money would be in wise temperance if I didn't haunt auctions for cursed instruments I got a bargain baglama in route from Greece it's just the chase the replacement of writing songs and hard work I could at least join the fox hunts but don't forget coming from those that are forced to hunt Sometimes envious of that pressure again but don't resent cause it's just weakness What I can't force myself to emulate the neo-Malthusianism of my anointed material condition ________________________________________________________ I'm back at it running out of space Might have to switch to that student loan refinancing scheme from Chase I won't even open it cause I'm just waiting for society to value education as a better use of time than bailing out bankers gambling on the backs of the poor and middle class that take all the risk You swindle their paycheck and taxes too Worshiping at the alter of the greenback printer Sell your grandma and your grandchildren's future ___________________________________________________________ I think I ran out of unimportant mail to write upon I need to do my taxes so I can stop stressing about hoarding unopened letters I'm afraid I'll find some catastrophe like a disease or a stolen identity There's too much to fear in the 21st century Yes, how weird there's no aristocratic family lording over my plot of land I'm not even a renter anymore except to the bank and I get my food from multi-national global kings Much less personal than the ****** that used to rule our lives Now they're depersonalized into the corporate body Escaping heaven's mandate I suppose Through layer and layer of fabric reality the market, democracy, technology is the belief that this whole world is fake Ascribing deity to digital creators Bad faith actors Pretending it's other than profit you desire "Profit's just a means" but you need more means to make more means What's the real product you're peddling? Do you not have pride beyond the money making aspect? Why do you highlight such shortsightedness?

0

Jan 25, 2023

Jan 25, 2023 at 11:04 PM UTC

kageysage

8 of Wands

In between notebooks writing on the back of bank statement envelopes My money would be in wise temperance if I didn't haunt auctions for cursed instruments I got a bargain baglama in route from Greece it's just the chase the replacement of writing songs and hard work I could at least join the fox hunts but don't forget coming from those that are forced to hunt Sometimes envious of that pressure again but don't resent cause it's just weakness What I can't force myself to emulate the neo-Malthusianism of my anointed material condition ________________________________________________________ I'm back at it running out of space Might have to switch to that student loan refinancing scheme from Chase I won't even open it cause I'm just waiting for society to value education as a better use of time than bailing out bankers gambling on the backs of the poor and middle class that take all the risk You swindle their paycheck and taxes too Worshiping at the alter of the greenback printer Sell your grandma and your grandchildren's future ___________________________________________________________ I think I ran out of unimportant mail to write upon I need to do my taxes so I can stop stressing about hoarding unopened letters I'm afraid I'll find some catastrophe like a disease or a stolen identity There's too much to fear in the 21st century Yes, how weird there's no aristocratic family lording over my plot of land I'm not even a renter anymore except to the bank and I get my food from multi-national global kings Much less personal than the ****** that used to rule our lives Now they're depersonalized into the corporate body Escaping heaven's mandate I suppose Through layer and layer of fabric reality the market, democracy, technology is the belief that this whole world is fake Ascribing deity to digital creators Bad faith actors Pretending it's other than profit you desire "Profit's just a means" but you need more means to make more means What's the real product you're peddling? Do you not have pride beyond the money making aspect? Why do you highlight such shortsightedness?

52

Unreasonableness? Ignorance ? Selfishness ? Stubbornness ? Shortsightedness ? Or just plain stupidity? What is it that tempts people to reject the only possible way out of misery?

0

Jan 5, 2021

Jan 5, 2021 at 10:20 AM UTC

susanne-fahrnberger

Refusal to vaccinate

Unreasonableness? Ignorance ? Selfishness ? Stubbornness ? Shortsightedness ? Or just plain stupidity? What is it that tempts people to reject the only possible way out of misery?

19

You say I'll never understand Because to you, I'm whole. The thing is, I'm ahead of your game, And I am in control. The spiderwebs that fill my head, The boiling blood of my brain, Tell me all things I want I'll never, ever obtain. You think because I don't complain I'm happy all the time. To me that thought's ridiculous— There's no reason to that rhyme. My mind is a smoking circuit. Death is a trending topic. My mind is dark, my thoughts are too. You're too blind to see— myopic. Your simple, shortsightedness Has all but proved my theory: You only care for me when you've time, You are tired of me, and grow weary. So please, tell me I'm not broken, Please, tell me I'm "too good." When I roll my sleeves and lift my shirt, You'll wish you'd understood. And maybe you do, who am I to say? What's to say you don't see it every day, That my heart is worn, I'm giving out, I need to yell, scream, and shout. But I'm close to six feet under, Digging my own grave bit by bit. "It's okay to ask for help," I said. What a hypocrite. So tell me I'm not damaged enough To hear you talk of days you rue. Maybe you're right all along, But I'll still listen to you— Unlike you.

0

Feb 7, 2019

Feb 7, 2019 at 4:37 PM UTC

AnonymousSpectacles

Unlike You

You say I'll never understand Because to you, I'm whole. The thing is, I'm ahead of your game, And I am in control. The spiderwebs that fill my head, The boiling blood of my brain, Tell me all things I want I'll never, ever obtain. You think because I don't complain I'm happy all the time. To me that thought's ridiculous— There's no reason to that rhyme. My mind is a smoking circuit. Death is a trending topic. My mind is dark, my thoughts are too. You're too blind to see— myopic. Your simple, shortsightedness Has all but proved my theory: You only care for me when you've time, You are tired of me, and grow weary. So please, tell me I'm not broken, Please, tell me I'm "too good." When I roll my sleeves and lift my shirt, You'll wish you'd understood. And maybe you do, who am I to say? What's to say you don't see it every day, That my heart is worn, I'm giving out, I need to yell, scream, and shout. But I'm close to six feet under, Digging my own grave bit by bit. "It's okay to ask for help," I said. What a hypocrite. So tell me I'm not damaged enough To hear you talk of days you rue. Maybe you're right all along, But I'll still listen to you— Unlike you.

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