"simpathy" poems
Whereabout of the heart, where might it be ?
When fury is a feeling which engages your senses, your mind and your soul in a raging outburst of negativity expressed in adrenaline,
Everything seems to be one sided, a loop which only fuels your anger with thoughts of unpleasant, disturbing annoyances, making it harder
Harder to resist, until alike a super nova, you explode in a viscious rampage with knows no escape, so, where is the heart ? Where is it?
A tantrum might be encouraged to grow in size if it's revenge you seek, desire, want to live for to make it expire, with violent passion,
Mercy or compassion, forgiveness and simpathy may be forgotten, within the depths of your burning soul, lit ablaze solely by hatred,
You may lose your mind, oh beauty of a living existence, becoming alike a lily of murderous intent, spiteful, yet elegant and wonderful,
A shivering star, ready to take its opponent down with itself while destroying what used to be so precious, unique and simply sweet,
Blemishing the unconscious without thinking of patience or the chance to calm this nuclear meltdown, unfolding in tragedy for us,
The pure light of your praying palms might help in this regard,
Because his remembrance is what makes furious hearts become calm.
~ Umi
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 6:33 PM UTC
Strength is who I am call me the Joan of Ark of Cannabis for I was willing to hang rather than be responsible for another life behind bars.
You will hang my family for our beliefs
You said give us names talk about your family repent , give in , your fight is over ..
Kneel before your lords
We will forgive you
I said you can call me the Joan of Ark of Cannabis for I will hang before I give you what you need .. you have already taken my parents and our lands .
I am not weak like others
I do have simpathy for the weaker soul for they must live with their dastardly deeds of giving
into your relentless needs .
My strength comes from the light of goodness my values are strong.
Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 10:25 PM UTC
That morning...i went to your house...i knocked twice, almost left...then i swallowed my pride and opened the front door...I worried you might have booby-trapped the long dark funky **** carpet hallway...i checked for landmines as i violently trembled my way to the door to your room...I had a reason to be there...I wanted my record back...but i also just wanted to see you again...i stood at your door, embarrassed about how i felt and i ****** it all under as I bit my lip and pushed open the door to your room...(for a moment I touched the sky and i felt the subastence of stars)
you lay sleepful beneath our blankets; I paused as your feet waywardly popped out, sticking awkwardly out of the pile of soft cotton that I knew the rest of you was underneath...
i felt simpathy from your feet that morning...like they were really sorry for me as I
snuck quietly around your room collecting what was left of me and my part in your life...
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 8:54 PM UTC
You want to know what makes me cry
Critisism of my life
Even though I know,
I’m way too shy
To tell anyone what been going on
In my head
My passion and dreams seem to be dry
Because I suffer from some conflict
That you are too ignorant to ignite
Take my pain and I’ll put it in a poem
I’ve been struggling way too long
Ever since them drugs they took my mom
When will you understand
That I’m not looking for simpathy
But maybe just some simple empathy
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 12:15 AM UTC