"singled" poems
Three weeks gone and the combatants gone
returning over the nightmare ground
we found the place again, and found
the soldier sprawling in the sun.
The frowning barrel of his gun
overshadowing. As we came on
that day, he hit my tank with one
like the entry of a demon.
Look. Here in the gunpit spoil
the dishonoured picture of his girl
who has put: Steffi. Vergissmeinnicht.
in a copybook gothic script.
We see him almost with content,
abased, and seeming to have paid
and mocked at by his own equipment
that's hard and good when he's decayed.
But she would weep to see today
how on his skin the swart flies move;
the dust upon the paper eye
and the burst stomach like a cave.
For here the lover and killer are mingled
who had one body and one heart.
And death who had the soldier singled
has done the lover mortal hurt.
7.6k
nations commit ******
all the time;
but when an individual
is singled out,
the collective is all in frenzy
of ooh ah; tree of good and
evil there for you.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 9:44 AM UTC
the insecurity
and awareness
of being called out
being singled out
once
at the start to my day
and the feeling of
self consciousness
throughout the rest of it
that day
it wasn't a bold move
or a statement
i wanted to look nice
but a little lice
or a little skin
and suddenly
I was at fault
since when has my back
become a distraction
how many people have noticed
before that one did
i am not here for judgement
i am here to learn
in comfort
and the four inches
of skin
on my back
that show through this lace
is not enough of a reason
for you
to take away comfort
from my day
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 6:05 PM UTC
My recollect is of the each,
The Two
And within the Two
One is the One
Holding and using our lead and ink utensils
as if they are weapons for winning at Love,
and reasoning for our written duel
Expressing desires the voice would customarily sever into dissection
Permitting authority to the crafted scripts *********
and may it’s barrier lay
over the possibility of a broken and scattered tongues communicate
Giving our internal intent its day
the way hoped it would speak
Expecting the requited, the return
was a pesticide over wide horizon,
Where the organic surprise of rainfall kept us neutral and thankful
And apart,
our minds maintained with
and of our other
With no need for philosophical proofs only the inner felt proof
Of forwarding shards of sentiment
with compiled assurance
and a dispatched formula
the best way we could phrase
Alongside images
that came in and held tight
in sectors tucked away and reserved from the cherished
to this day are still to be amazed
Spontaneous placement of universally synchronized jewels and stones
Of not have to have
[Only the simplified, pushed down and planted fact]
Of want her to have
So when away,
You feel a personal, singled-out
appraisal of praise
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 9:07 PM UTC
We get put into groups by the colour of our skin,
Judged if percieved as 'too fat' or 'too thin',
Singled out for looking different to them all,
Perhaps you are seen as slightly too tall,
Name calling and looks spotting is all the rage,
Ridiculous really in this day and age,
Both genders 'beauty' reviewed time and time,
This generation is certainly out of line,
They define peoples beauty by the medias conception,
Letting it alter their personal perception,
The pain they cause to the people they prey among,
Your faith in humanity would nearly be gone,
Who should show these people they are doing wrong,
What they have been causing all along,
Societies segregation and marginalisation,
Creates for us a serious realisation,
History is repeating again and again,
This same thing was happening way back when.
To be yourself today, is something they tell us is not okay,
We need to stop these people , tell them, soon it will be our day.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 12:25 PM UTC
~dedicated to the old poets here~
the addictive pairing of certain words, a line,
a lyric, slap-snapping you to full attention,
unfailing decades of instant recognition,
an adrenaline + caffeine shot that powers
a chance, a tensile injection that causes
the lips to commence a new choreography,
the fingers to tap, a jumbled, hurried, embattled
disorderly mess that regenerates, reformulates,
concords into agreement, a harmonic consistency
a geometry of many differing angles that equate
a hard physical, a soft mentality in a singled work,
coexisting in a sacred state of singed confluence,
though imperfect, satisfies mathematical boundaries
of a random outpouring, crowning the stripe inspiring
the spark that finally satisfyingly silences an ignited
filament a-glowing for years, that holy happens
to cross your antennae, fulfilling the need to honor,
the sacred geometry of chance, the honor to need,
the joy of saying, at last, this unwritten debt, paid!
————————————————————————-
(1) a favorite of many years, a lyric from “The Shape of My Heart” by Sting
(2) Dec 3 2020 2:53pm NYC
Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 2:59 PM UTC
One Person
Two Person
White Person
Black Person
Asian Person
Indian Person
Old Person
New Person
This one has no food to eat,
This one has a war to beat.
Say! What a lot of people there are.
Some are dead,
Some have no bed,
Some even have no roof over their head.
But why are they
Separated from each other?
I wouldn’t know,
Go ask another.
Some are thin,
Some are tall,
Some are fat,
And some can even be quite small.
From there to here, from here to there.
Trump wants to create walls,
So, we can’t travel anywhere.
To get water,
Some have to travel,
Barefoot, on sharp gravel.
For miles and miles
They have to travel.
White, Black, White, Black.
White, Black, White, Black.
All distinguished from the colour of their back.
Some have two friends,
Some have one,
Some have ten friends,
Some have none.
Where do we come from?
A long, long way.
From a war place,
Come here to be safe.
We see them come,
We see them go.
Some come legally,
Some come by boat.
Some are tall,
And some are short.
We’re all different,
But we’re all human.
Yet, we’re singled out,
Just because we’re men or women.
Why?!
Is it okay to scream and shout?
Lesbian, Straight, Bi or Gay.
Is it good to call someone out?
Did you think it was okay?
Black, White, Old, New,
Gay, Straight, Man, Woman,
Asian, Indian, American, African,
Don’t you realise we’re all human?
Human!
It’s not a reason to be rude,
Just because I am different to you.
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 6:47 PM UTC
With my Beloved I alone have been,
When secrets tenderer than evening airs
Passed, and the Vision blest
Was granted to my prayers,
That crowned me, else obscure, with endless fame;
The while amazed between
His Beauty and His Majesty
I stood in silent ecstasy
Revealing that which o'er my spirit went and came.
Lo, in His face commingled
Is every charm and grace;
The whole of Beauty singled
Into a perfect face
Beholding Him would cry,
'There is no God but He, and He is the most High.'
3k
good intentions never guarenteed good results.
good intentions never guarenteed good
good intentions never guarunteed ****
it's what you say during an apology.
it's what you tell yourself so you can lessen guilt.
I singled you out
under the guise of a friend.
I let you trust me
because we all want to believe.
I let you love me
because I needed the raise in self esteem.
I stayed at your house cause I hate sleeping alone.
I went to dinner because I couldn't afford food.
You started to trust me
and I felt ashamed
You said I was beautiful
I felt ugly
You said you knew me
and I felt like a liar.
You said I was acting strange
and I called you crazy
You said I was pushing away
I told you "so what?"
You wondered what happened...
I felt disgust.
In a moment of guilt I told you it was me,
I told you I was crazy.
I admited I was playing head games with the weak minded
and like a fool you
accepted my apologies.
Jun 23, 2010
Jun 23, 2010 at 9:46 PM UTC
When the lamp is shattered
The light in the dust lies dead—
When the cloud is scattered,
The rainbow’s glory is shed.
When the lute is broken,
Sweet tones are remembered not;
When the lips have spoken,
Loved accents are soon forgot.
As music and splendour
Survive not the lamp and the lute,
The heart’s echoes render
No song when the spirit is mute—
No song but sad dirges,
Like the wind through a ruined cell,
Or the mournful surges
That ring the dead seaman’s knell.
When hearts have once mingled,
Love first leaves the well-built nest;
The weak one is singled
To endure what it once possessed.
O Love! who bewailest
The frailty of all things here,
Why choose you the frailest
For your cradle, your home, and your bier?
Its passions will rock thee,
As the storms rock the ravens on high;
Bright reason will mock thee,
Like the sun from a wintry sky.
From thy nest every rafter
Will rot, and thine eagle home
Leave thee naked to laughter,
When leaves fall and cold winds come.
2.6k
I am lusted after and I am singled out because of one thing I have to offer them.
I have something the average girl doesn’t have, I’m ‘a girl with a little extra’
I am their secret dream girl, their hidden desire.
They love to love me in secret.
They don’t see me as a person, they see their fantasy being fulfilled with me.
They don’t want to know my mind they just want to know how long I’ve been on hormones.
If my hair is real, if I had any surgery and you know what surgery I am talking they say with a no good smile.
Wow your face is so feminine looking, you would never know what hiding between your gorgeous thick legs.
Your body is perfect, your are not narrow you have full hips almost child barring.
Your delicate nose, your long blonde hair to your pouty lips you are perfect for this one night t girl.
They love my voice, they say its so **** and soothing.
I am a *** object to them, a pretty thing with **** hips and a ****
20 years of flesh on my body, and I still cant feel anything for it.
Yet these men do.
I am a delicacy, I am a rare indulgence for them.
Do you know how beautiful you are young t girl they ask me.
Why so empty t girl, why so lonely you could have any man you want for the night.
The night, that is all this body is worth to them.
My mind attacks my body like a foreign object, something that is not right or supposed to be.
Yet men find it so **** like eating the forbidden fruit.
I am so tasty sweet and so unacceptable.
What will people think they say to me.
How can I be lusted after, but shamed for my body
Something they find so beautiful, so exotic
They love my porcelain skin, that is diluted with freckles they say they want to count each one I have.
Get naked t girl, that is all your body is good for, to be looked at let me adore you.
Yes I have a girlfriend but you are an exception, you are a rare commodity, your skin is baby soft, not rough there is no trace of man hood on you except the one thing below that makes me want you.
You are my fantasy t girl, you are what I think about at night when I am alone.
When I decline what they want, I am disgusting, I am a stain in the world, let me show you what happens to real women t girl, such a waste of a pretty face.
these men are so offended that 'someone like me' doesn't desire them they desire me.
yet how am I the fantasy?
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 8:35 PM UTC
~~
**Dialogue and Oratory Between
SPT and Nat:**
~
***At the Intersection of
Perfection & Beauty,
By Blue Candlight***
~~~
come let us by and by,
soon meet,
under blue moon candle lit sky,
at this worthy intersection of
beauty and perfection,
be together,
contained,
yet unconstrained
let us speak of what
we see and sense,
come to come
to know,
of what does not appear
in this world easy readily,
what lies between
two points,
sharing,
needy of,
crossing destination revelations
*It's said of beauty,
once uncovered and
gazed upon whole,
be visible only at the
bottom of the bin of the
picked-threw,
it was here, where, perfection
once was lost
and may yet now be found,
where souls,
singled and singed,
seek to find of,
the perfection lost,
the untarnished beauty
within ones self
from the meadow can be seen
The Field Where Wonderment Grows,
wild is the bounty of colored beauty
then
and only there,
can oan one,
locate, judge and
accept
what never departs
a self*
at the road'meeting point,
at our time and place
appointed,
arrived but come
disappointed,
crossed and creased
by the journeys
travels and travails,
burnt blind,
eyes by life's headwinds,
singled and singed,
and the mind disbelieves, doubts,
the existence verily,
of the locale,
beauty & perfection
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
{Act One-Darkness}
<>
There are no stars tonight,
only the cold lifeless dark.
No hearts on fire,
nor passion plays.
Only the faerie dance of fire flies,
and the myth of love.
{Act Two-Searching}
<>
Are we just bags of hormones
either fortunately or unfortunately
imbued with the chemicals of life?
Will there be a day that we will be singled out
for our levels of hormones?
Will a new prejudice arise?
Oh... she's 68.3% hormonal,
he's 97% hormoneless.....
Will there be hormone police,
checking your levels before you buy a gun,
or have a baby,
or get married?
(I should have reversed the order of those lines.)
Are we just bags of hormones?
Can we blame the lack of, or the abundance of,
the chemistry in our bodies,
infecting the knee **** reactions of our power hungry egos?
Menopausal, testosteroned, endorphined, dopamined,
all influencing the limbic system.
Soon, very soon a storm is coming.
A storm complete with tattooed bar codes
describing our perspective hormonal levels.
In the year 2025,
separated by island walls.
Are we just bags of hormones?
{Act Three-Light}
<>
You can't love me,
you don't love yourself.
If and until you completely love yourself,
you can not completely love another.
The level of love that you have for me,
can only be the level of love for yourself.
You can't love me
........not yet.
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 11:50 PM UTC
"What's your favourite part of school?"
They ask the young child
The response puts them in laughter
"Recess"
"That's not what we meant"
They try to explain
But the child knows more than they do
The child has known for a long time
They think the child is silly
That the expression "I hate school" is irrational
School is supposed to be education
Is supposed to be learning
Is supposed to be fun
An unfulfilled supposition
The child knows this
Knows what it's like to be disrespected by teachers
Singled-out
Yelled at
Embarrassed by teachers
There are no teachers in recess
Recess is fun
Recess is what school is supposed to be
They laugh at the child for being silly
The child laughs at them for being oblivious
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 4:23 PM UTC
This is a spray the Bird clung to,
Making it blossom with pleasure,
Ere the high tree-top she sprung to,
Fit for her nest and her treasure.
Oh, what a hope beyond measure
Was the poor spray’s, which the flying feet hung to,—
So to be singled out, built in, and sung to!
This is a heart the Queen leant on,
Thrilled in a minute erratic,
Ere the true ***** she bent on,
Meet for love’s regal dalmatic.
Oh, what a fancy ecstatic
Was the poor heart’s, ere the wanderer went on—
Love to be saved for it, proffered to, spent on!
2.2k
People with plastic smiles
wave to me over their
white picket fences
I avoid their gaze
but they just smile as I drive
past
Back and froth
twice a day
every day
at minimum
I fear their cheerful greetings
there invitations to barbecues and
parties where I'll only be singled
out
I do not need the hive mind,
the men who we envision
in dark suits with red
eyes but who are really
just you and us down deep
inside
I drive by the
face of evil every
day
And as it chuckles
and laughs as I drive
by in my old beat-up
Volvo I avoid looking into
the empty-pits where
a soul is supposed to
be
Mar 9, 2011
Mar 9, 2011 at 5:50 AM UTC
He touched our hands
But unconcernedly this famous man
And would not look us in the eye
For fear of contact or what might be worse, connection
And we could hardly blame him, for after all
He had each day been singled out for close inspection
By ones like us, in awe of his celebrity
Circled in the shade of his perfection
Hoping for the star-dust sprinkle of acuity
Or sparkling eyes, admission to his inner cult and clan
He wore blue jeans
And scuffed sneakers as a badge of proof
Of his coolness and unconcern
While we his audience with concealed attention
Enviously eyed his hairy confidence, unconsciously
Imitating in each phrase that low convention
Made small adjustments to our store-bought suits and ties
And nodded several times in bright pretension
Made small amendments to our smiles and lies
Flicked photo-phones in pursuit of custom and routine
He gave a speech
A flippant interview, this famous creature
A well tossed phrase, a rounded cliche
Poured forth like brandy in a glass, convivial
Or apple cider-ed vinegar in pewter mugs
A sardonically French-accented phrase habitual
Well humored, heavy lidded with testosterone
At interlocutor women with the pens and pads
Delivered in a low and purring monotone
For all the world as lovers, each to each
He stretched a smile
A modulated shift of teeth and beard
"Genius? Not I" with deprecation
"My shallow intellect, so poor and so ephemeral"
Delivered in a tone that mocked inclusion
While we assumed an elegance, unintentional
A nonchalance that shields the wide charades
Unmoving in our breathless, but conventional
Genuflection to the the notion that pervades
Our addictive appetite now sated. For a while.
He kissed their cheeks
And stroked their arms, with sensuous ambivalence
But absently, as if he cared so little
In his farewell. 'A bientot' he said and 'Au revoir'
And slipped away amongst the moving Milan crowds
Creative and creator, irredeemably a star
With, in his wake the smiling scriveners staring
At his retreating back in Stark excitement
In the middle of the circling and squaring, at
The alpha-wolfic effigy. The Shepherd and his sheep.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 6:46 AM UTC
This is not you that lies before us,
beloved Aunt, for you live on
in our hearts, our souls, our minds
as the with racquet and a ready smile,
as the doting older sister
with eyes shining like a proud spotlight
on two little girls on a crowded stage,
singled out and made special by your love.
You do not lie here cold and lifeless,
beloved Aunt, for you live on
in the warmth of your laughter
and your bright shining lively dancing eyes
and your girlish peaches-and-cream complexion
and in the memories
of two small nephews
in the endless summer of childhood
conquering the diving tower at Jellicoe Baths
or frolicking at Mission Bay
and you capturing all our shared and happy memories
with your trusty Box Brownie.
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 4:00 PM UTC
They ain't got *****
They can't have *****
Ugh they always go to Starbucks and order a frappuccino **** them rich uppity white ******* get on my nerves."
They all listen to One Direction and 5 Seconds of Summer,
"I really wish I had white girl hair."
All white girls have to be this, have to do that,
This is my average day at school.
It's not true.
I know because I am a white girl
But I'm not your "typical" one,
I listen to Pantera and Phish,
I don't "always" go to Starbucks.
And I have an *** thank you very much,
I'm not rich,
I'm not poor,
I have the same anatomic structure as everybody else,
I don't need to be singled out for something that isn't true about me.
White people aren't the only that can have stereotypes made about them.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC
I'm not heartless or jaded or broken
Though I have been rejected a few times before
I'm still complex but I'm working on it
And all that matters is not what I've done, but what I'm doing to be better than yesterday
I'm not exactly where I wish to be just yet
I am still sensitive and protective and I admit I have doubts
I don't say sorry as much as I should, but I have my way of making ammends
I'm not lost or searching or impulsive and weak
I'm curious and interested in expanding my horizons
My imagination takes me everywhere and sometime I don't want to come back
But I still try my best to improve what I do have
I do what I can and when I fail it's a lesson
If I didn't do my best, I'll take a look at what went wrong
I'm a hopeless romantic and a dreamer in the process of making use of my life and all my potential
I can be funny, sarcastic and niave all at once
But there are times when I'm serious and all I want is respect
I earned what I have and threw away many oppurtunities
But thats the beauty of life whether I like it or not
I forgive easily and remember most things
Especially what it feels like to be hurt and left alone
I enjoy what life brings me and I've learned that I'm capable
I've found my voice and I'm not afraid to be singled out
My head holds a crown that might be too heavy
But all my burdens are mistakes that paved a path towards my successes
I was a girl but now I am a woman
And to be honest, I love who I've become
Some people like me, some may be critical
But the only opinion that matters, is the one in the mirror
I like to laugh, I like to share, I like to listen to my friends
But most importantly I love to smile, even when it's difficult and everything is falling apart
Because in the midst of rainstorm always comes a rainbow
Soon after any day now, the sun will shine on my destiny
And the puzzle of life will still make no sense at all
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 12:44 AM UTC
the absence of darkness in the city
fragile upon the edge of light
empty and eerily awaiting the demise of the sun
lifeless city, ruthless in its takings
your decadence
sad and unheard by passers on the quiet streets
singled by the sounds of your own footsteps
unlost but wandering
for what you seek in a star
is hidden by shrouds of impurity
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
singled out.
a round clown.
it's all a fight. a flight. a struggle.
stay strong.
get along.
write me a story,
sing me a song.
when it's right,
it's not wrong.
for, against.
pro. con.
un, non.
prefixes for life.
take them in strife
cut it with a knife
and breath. . .
to succeed.
move. prove.
live.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 1:05 AM UTC
Married people always tease
Their singled-out single friends
Oh yes! They are bully!
I'm a victim.
Then,
I started to ask so many questions
Should I lower my standards?
Should I ask for a date?
That is so desperate.
And,
A guy will come your way
Knocking to your sleepless heart
Asking for your time.
Did I say that I already opened it?
I was about to say that it was already locked.
I had given him a chance,
Chances!
But the spark already faded.
Okay, let me try once more
Maybe meeting him will help
But I'm really in doubt
Because the boy next door
Already made a bang!
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 9:50 AM UTC
This single teardrop
That fell from my eye
Lands with open palms
This tear that I cried
Singled out by the sun
In its glistening
Standing barren alone
Caught up on the wind
Finding its way
To the heavens above
This single teardrop
Purchased in love
Where it settles in clouds
Among drops of rain
This single teardrop
That holds your name
Falls back to earth
Mixed with rain from the sky
Onto your upturned face
This single tear that I cried
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 4:46 PM UTC