"situations" poems
ugly men burning their bay leaves
in pots of static gardens
underneath all this cement
your past is looking at you indecently
so change the words around you
you can shift their meaning
its all a game and no-one's winning
your tired emotions accent your poetry
umbrellas are scars that carry symphonies in their hearts
you held my hand as we welcomed god back into our skylines
her face is as familiar as the stars
we originated from
with ulcers open in quiet hurting
your youth are wordless and distrustful of angst ridden authority
in unsuspecting situations love’s vacation is ending
her wedding gown got quite *****
since she literally spent her entire honeymoon
wandering idly into banks of muddy water
humanity is worthy of justice and sweaty romance
i breathe your flesh into my bottle
and we take boundless walks upon the clouds
that straddle mountains, graveyards and cemeteries
fresh from wading in the rice fields
i peeled you a ripe banana
under pressure your sweater came off
and revealed a perfect metric for us to emulate
your eye sockets are two umbilical chords
and your voice is a curved sword that cuts through fear
like the moon slices through the sky
i have held all of this inside for far too long
and now it comes shattering forth
spilling itself over every page
every letter an escapade almost as long
as an Eskimo's pilgrimage to safety
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 11:36 PM UTC
i have slept restlessly for nights now, reliving the events that have conjured within the past 72 hours. i think to myself, how would anyone want to bring another into this world knowing the pain they will endure? yes. you will feel pain, indescribable, chest filling, body aching pain from your head to your toes. i wont try to paint a perfect picture of this world and let you down. hating me every moment for the things i never said. you will be beaten down by others, torn away from the connection you thought you had. you will sit in a coffee shop alone, biting your lip with anxiety, and he will call you in the dead of night pleading for you to keep him company once more. you will miss the way you looked at the world, with innocence and purity, reliving every moment of suffering and rewriting its pages. you will invest your heart in people, things that will only let you down. but sweet child this suffering that you feel will be soon over. it is how you overcome these situations of awkward confrontation and scandalous betrayal. because one day a bee will buzz past you and you will jump up and down like a child again, tugging on the end of your own dress, smiling. you will laugh once again because the perpetual love you feel from those who surround you with positive energy will fill the gaping hole of disappointment that the world has so willingly handed you. like i said, i will not paint a perfect picture for you, because every artist has their flaws, but they cover them oh so well. and you should never have to carry that kind of burden.
love always,
me
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 8:07 PM UTC
Sunshine comes in many forms.
- - - - - -
That which comes up in the morning
and goes down at night.
And little girls who
are Grandma's De-light.
- - - - - -
She rises in the morning
sometimes cloudy,
sometimes bright,
but always Grandma's De-light.
- - - - - -
Sometimes she rains tears
torrential they may pour
but comforted by the voice
of the One who loves her so.
- - - - - -
Sometimes she shines bright
the warmth of hugs and smiles.
Love overflowing in the heart,
it's all Grandma's De-light.
- - - - - -
Love is forever and always
whether its stormy or bright.
Love covers all situations
For all is Grandma's De-light.
- - - - - -
Sunshine's Eyes and Smiles
Light up the world around her.
Creating more smiles in their eyes
when first they did find her
- - - - - -
When Grandma's day is gloomy
Sunshine arrives with much to say
with happy stories, hugs and smiles
to brighten up the cloudiest day.
- - - - - -
When Sunshine goes to bed
it usually can be said
Sunshine's eyes cease to gleam
when energy's gone, time to dream.
- - - - - -
Eyes close and all is well
in Sunshine Land I do tell.
Grandma's De-light in peaceful sleep
The day is over, it will keep.
- - - - - -
She is after all
Grandma's Sunshine.
11-01-2014 (c)
John Stevens
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC
I'm struggling with what it means to be a woman.
Does it mean that I am always in competition to be the top of my species?
Does it mean that I need to be perfect without a single curve out of line in order to find love?
Does it mean that I am only defined when owned by a man?
Does it mean that I can only find purpose in childbirth?
Does it mean that I will forever live in the shadow of men?
Does it mean that I am an object invented solely for a man's pleasure?
Does it mean that I'm forced to confine to gender roles and live in someone else's story?
Does it mean that I'm supposed to accept it when I'm harassed from across the street?
Does it mean that I'm supposed to lie there silent when he puts his hands up my skirt?
Does it mean that I am only worth 77 cents to a man’s dollar?
Does it mean that I am defined by my looks rather than my intelligence?
Does it mean that I will never be capable of holding a major position of power due to my mood swings?
Does it mean that I am defined by how many men I have had *** with?
Or does it mean something else entirely.
It's difficult learning to love being a woman.
Obvious and damaging disadvantages are visible to observers.
We are regarded as second best, property of our man.
We are erased from history, our pain is minimized and forgotten.
We are oppressed and have to fight for our rights.
We are afraid to walk the streets at night, afraid for our lives.
We are harassed without care and without penalty.
We are ***** and murdered for refusing proposals.
We are expected to live on the sidelines as a housewife whose only priority should be her children.
We are expected to keep quiet in situations of domestic abuse.
We are expected to be perfect, and pretty, fresh for a man’s picking.
We can’t even advocate for our own equality without being demonized.
There are times where I wish I wasn’t a woman.
Being a woman comes with innumerable expectations, pressures, and responsibilities.
My existence is not defined by a man, or by the patriarchal expectations that have been placed on me.
I am breaking free of my confinements and I’m not afraid to admit that,
I'm struggling with what it means to be a woman. And that's okay.
//sarahmann
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 3:10 AM UTC
A rose is a rose,
No matter where it grows.
Some saw thorns,
Beauty some chose.
Criticized by some,
Valued by loads;
People's opinions,
You can't change them by force.
Perfection is desired,
Even if it's freestyle prose!
Our lives might be cumbersome,
Let's accept the challenges they pose;
There's a bit of stardust in us all,
No matter hellish situations might come how close,
because, a rose is a rose.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 12:45 PM UTC
Capricorns, Capricorns are ruled and schooled by the planet Saturn, Saturn, Saturn. A bandit with a similar pattern, pattern, pattern. Capricorns, Capricorns are brethren from a legion; a legion of an atmosphere of the southern-hemisphere; in the equatorial region. At an
angle, angle, angle; Capricorns, Capricorns are angels of Aquarius and
Sagittarius. They’re boisterous, courageous, contagious, glamorous,
prestigious, rebellious, various and victorious-goats, goats, goats!
Capricorns, Capricorns cope, devote, note and quote, quote, quote.
They’re ambitions with superstitions and various missions, missions, missions! They’re novelties and poverties, revelations and
revolutionaries, revolutionaries, revolutionaries. Capricorns, Capricorns are theories and visionaries, visionaries, visionaries.
They’re objects, projects and rejects. They’re leaders and readers that are poetically, negatively or positively dictatorial and doctorial! Some are historical, optical, political and radical; authentic, eccentric,
neurotic, poetic, theoretic, theoretic, theoretic. Unicorns, Unicorns are biblical and mythical, mythical, mythical; they’re ****** exotic, iconic, ironic, magic, nostalgic creatures, creatures, creatures. Their features
resembling a horse of course, of course. Furthermore, they’re fierce and a force. They’re a breed and creed of desire, fire and perspire, perspire,
perspire, perspire! They’re viral, viral, viral! This partial, sworn steed;
born awesome, awesome, awesome and too blossom, blossom, blossom. Unicorn’s spiral, crescent horn usually projecting and protruding from their foreheads. Rough and tough enough too pierce,
pierce, pierce! Unicorns, Unicorns are defendants, independents and
pendants. Hark! Hark! Hark! They’re brilliant and resilient sparks, sparks, sparks! They’re told as bold, old art, from the heart, from the start. Unicorns, Unicorns are fillers and pillars of guide, pride and
stride, stride, stride. They’re along for the long, long, long ride...
Unicorns, Unicorns are strong, strong, strong! Some as a song, song,
song, some throng, throng, throng, some wrong, wrong, wrong. As a
child, child, child; wild, wild, wild! Unicorns, Unicorns overwhelm, overwhelm, overwhelm. Their domicile realm, apparently, inherently and originally belonging from India; alleluia, alleluia for India, India,
India! Capricorns and Unicorns; two different creations. Capricorns
and Unicorns; two different relations. Capricorns and Unicorns; two
different situations and superstitions. They’re rainbows that glow, know and show. They’re of borrow, of sorrow and of our tomorrow.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 9:12 PM UTC
I am a stranger to myself.
I do not know how to be gentle, compassionate, or loving, to any part of myself.
I have always been able to present myself well in most public situations,
be it work, school, parental obligations, parties.
I can be calm and level-headed.
I am able to problem solve in logical and intelligent ways.
I can be humorous and glamorous when need be.
But it seems as though that power and confidence,
that grace and strength, is only a mask.
I now have more days when that mask feels heavy.
And when I lack the strength to put it on, I have to hide myself.
And I’ve been hiding a lot lately.
I hid yesterday.
I am hiding today.
I hear the words of care that others speak,
but they don’t feel real to me.
Sometimes I can accept their words while knowing
that they do not realize that I am a disgusting person who deserves to be treated badly.
They see what I want them to see.
I watch them interact with the humorous Nita, the intelligent Nita,
and I watch it all from the outside.
I want so much more for myself.
Who is this Nita that is respected by so many?
I want to be loved and to feel love.
I want to be free from the father and the host body.
I desperately wish to be free from them, and not just in a surface way.
I want them out of me forever.
My soul cries out for kindness and gentleness
and yet when it is offered I cannot accept it.
I want to be respected and loved
and yet I do not know how to love or respect myself.
I know how to pretend.
I wrote the book on how to hide your feelings.
I know how to smile, I know how to laugh.
I know that I have been given gifts but I don’t know how to use them.
And the ones who were abused, ***** assaulted, degraded…
they are afraid to dream that there is more to life than this.
They cannot fathom that there exists a world
where they can be loved in a gentle way, touched in a way that does not hurt.
They stopped dreaming a long time ago.
I want to stop fighting so hard,
so much of the time...fighting myself, the therapist
the fighting stubborn one just comes out in full-force at any perceived threat
and I want her to stop fighting when there is no reason to fight.
I want to learn to trust in myself and others.
I want the chaos and confusion inside my mind to clear
and I want some sense of cohesiveness and togetherness inside of me.
I want to believe that there is more to life
than pretending behind an illusion of imaginary togetherness...
more than just feeling ashamed and degraded.
I want to trust that I am allowed to heal.
I want to believe that I am worth the time and the effort it is taking,
and the pain I endure every day.
I want to believe that I am not what they said I am,
that real love actually exists,
and that I am worthy of receiving it.
And even as I write this, there is that voice inside speaking to me,
"But what if you're not worthy, Nita? What if you are what they said?"
She is a big part of me~ she has a loud voice.
And if I don't believe in myself...
how can I convince that part of me that I am good and I am worthy?
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 5:29 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
The night is only a sort of carbon paper,
Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars
Letting in the light, peephole after peephole --
A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.
Under the eyes of the stars and the moon's rictus
He suffers his desert pillow, sleeplessness
Stretching its fine, irritating sand in all directions.
Over and over the old, granular movie
Exposes embarrassments--the mizzling days
Of childhood and adolescence, sticky with dreams,
Parental faces on tall stalks, alternately stern and tearful,
A garden of buggy rose that made him cry.
His forehead is bumpy as a sack of rocks.
Memories jostle each other for face-room like obsolete film stars.
He is immune to pills: red, purple, blue --
How they lit the tedium of the protracted evening!
Those sugary planets whose influence won for him
A life baptized in no-life for a while,
And the sweet, drugged waking of a forgetful baby.
Now the pills are worn-out and silly, like classical gods.
Their poppy-sleepy colors do him no good.
His head is a little interior of grey mirrors.
Each gesture flees immediately down an alley
Of diminishing perspectives, and its significance
Drains like water out the hole at the far end.
He lives without privacy in a lidless room,
The bald slots of his eyes stiffened wide-open
On the incessant heat-lightning flicker of situations.
Nightlong, in the granite yard, invisible cats
Have been howling like women, or damaged instruments.
Already he can feel daylight, his white disease,
Creeping up with her hatful of trivial repetitions.
The city is a map of cheerful twitters now,
And everywhere people, eyes mica-silver and blank,
Are riding to work in rows, as if recently brainwashed.
15.4k
Situations find themselves unraveling uncontrollably,
picking at scabs of superiority,
delving into wide expanded pits of insecurity.
The master of masking change
would be the ever drifting reputation,
it leaves bitter, it brings hate.
May I express how much I hate?
Nothing squirms and squiggles uncontrollably
more, than watching reputations
crumble, due to fake superiority.
What do I want, change!
What does she want? Change, but she gets insecurity.
To understand the confliction, insecurity
must paint walls of peeling purple hate.
Well, something in you will change.
You may remain stubborn, uncontrollably
defending your sudden superiority,
you’re just choosing a rotten reputation.
I wish to fly you to a new nation, I mean shes breaking your reputation.
I’d like to find the spot in your mind resided by insecurity,
I know you’re not studded with superiority.
She’s finding a reason for everyone else to hate
the way you attract uncontrollably.
Nothing about you, in you, should change,
because this digs deeper than the change
her and my relationship took, than are used to be reputation
of adoring each other uncontrollably.
of ignoring that insecurity.
of the day she learned to hate,
spindling a slippery net of superiority.
Her comfort zone of a home lays in superiority,
I’d rather cry endlessly than change
by cultivating my hate
for her, for her debilitating take on your reputation.
Transperency touches insecurity
and you are broken, falling uncontrollably.
I will continue to hate her superiority, but that won’t reflect on her reputation.
You mustn’t change your disposition, but lose the grip on insecurity
Don’t you dare hate these words, they care, they love uncontrollably.
Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
Yes I have been through it,
Our situations are similar,
They're different just a bit.
Tides of time are testing us,
We do not ever bow down,
Yes we will be strong babe.
We're together & we'll be so forever.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 2:19 AM UTC
I enjoy distance
Long drives with no destination
Music blaring, miles growing
I enjoy distance
Long walks to nowhere
The peace calms my restless soul
I enjoy distance
Little steps each day
Away from difficult situations
I enjoy distance
Between people and places
And me
I enjoy distance
It gives perspective
Emancipation
I enjoy distance
I also enjoy coming home
When distance has run its course
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 8:21 AM UTC
*Today I shall get high on life.
To feel the energy of wind,
hear birds sweet song,
dance upon sacred Mother Earth.
Today I shall take the drug of life.
To be grateful for all that life brings.
shinning a light upon difficult
situations.
Today I shall move in my power
To feel connected to source energies
and all the invisible allies present
who come to my aid.
Today is the first day of the rest of my life
to align with higher self
moving with the grace of self.*
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 6:50 AM UTC
Mr. handsome stranger
He’s coming after
Desperate like a last request
Frantic delusional lunatic
Unhinged fragile losing what’s left
Self serving sadomasochistic
Easy on the eyes but doesn’t quite fit in
Playing it cool in social situations
His intelligent banter he claims as his own
With somewhat smart comebacks he practiced at home
Trying so hard that the sweat beads down
Onto his stressed wrinkled furrowed brow
the stories he skillfully misdirected
Carefully darting unwanted questions
Mr. Indiscreet can’t blow his cover
Disarm the girl of his unrealistic dreams
How quite average and normal he can be
Mr. Stalker walks over to the Girl
works up the courage and talks to her
Strikes up a witty conversation
With his movie star smile and education
Using the words that he pre rehearsed
Says all the right things and compliments her
Looking past his rather peculiar behavior
And when politely asked gives up her number
He rings her up the very next day
With a romantic scenic picnic date
Under the shade of a lush green tree
Upon a blanket with wine and cheese
Playing the part of the handsome boyfriend
Gains her full trust and faith in him
Joking in a effort to make her laugh
To put her at ease and follow his plan
Jealous of her ex boyfriends
Knowing their names and full address
And when he drops her off at home
Tracks and follows her every move
Knows all her weekly kept routines
Threatens and blackmails all her friends
Studies everyday mundane errands
Unaware of his decent into madness
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 8:28 AM UTC
Have you ever felt so sick
That there's a churning in your stomach
That you just can't shake
Have you ever felt so broken
That you just can't sleep
Lost in confusion to how life brought you here
Have you ever felt so low
That you didn't think there was anywhere else to go
Have you ever been so angry
You can't control your rage
Ripping every photo in you picture frames
(Yeah) have you ever wondered why it is your heart breaks
Are you good at getting stuck in situations
Feel as though you have lost all communication
And you can't seem to navigate your way out of this dark place
You landed yourself in
Shouldn't have given everything so soon
And maybe then you wouldn't have lost you
Signals beyond detection
Lost in my own space
No stars or light to guide your way
You just met the monster under your bed
Gave into the voices inside of your head
This is the moment everybody dreads
So is this my hell
This is where I've been sent
This is the fall
This is the steep descent
Told you I bleed for my heart
Can't you tell from the scars
Engraved into my skin
Maybe I'm addicted to the pain
Maybe it doesn't feel right when life kicks me back in the face
Maybe I just can't go a day without making a mistake
Maybe I'm a lost cause
Maybe I have no faith
Maybe I've fallen from grace
Maybe I'm a disgrace
Maybe there is no hope for the hopeless
But I still give hope to those
That hang off of every word that I write
And it's lines and times like this that keep me alive (Yeah)
Are you good at getting stuck in situations
Feel as though you have lost all communication
And you can't seem to navigate your way out of this dark place
You landed yourself in
Shouldn't have given everything so soon
And maybe then you wouldn't have lost you
Signals beyond detection
Lost in my own space
No stars or light to guide your way
You just met the monster under your bed
Gave into the voices inside of your head
This is the moment everybody dreads
So is this my hell
This is where I've been sent
This is the fall
This is the steep descent
Maybe I'm drowning in sorrows
Maybe you have some love I could borrow
Maybe you could get me back on my feet
Should never have worn this heart on my sleeve
Maybe I shared too much
Maybe my kindness
got the best of me
Maybe I gave to much trust
Maybe I just lost the one
Maybe the battle was lost
Before it was ever won (Yeah)
Are you good at getting stuck in situations
Feel as though you have lost all communication
And you can't seem to navigate your way out of this dark place
You landed yourself in
Shouldn't have given everything so soon
And maybe then you wouldn't have lost you
Signals beyond detection
Lost in my own space
No stars or light to guide your way
You just met the monster under your bed
Gave into the voices inside of your head
This is the moment everybody dreads
So is this my hell
This is where I've been sent
This is the fall
This is the steep descent
©2017 Written By Benji James
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 4:45 AM UTC
*We are all painters
Holding a color palette
Conceiving a painting
It’s how we mix the colors
Depending on our imagination
Whether we paint happiness
Or scenes of saddened gray
Situations yield the paintings
Sometimes splashing all colors
Or else black colors gloom
Universe has mostly dark energy
Yet, we have found our colors
To paint our abode, we inhabit
No matter, colors of joy and sorrow
We celebrate all colors
We are all painters, wielding the brush
To create new colors of hope*
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC
People may tell you to not cry...
I won't because I know the difference.
They think they know when in fact they lie...
I say bury yourself in the deepest of detriments.
They may say that a new day will come...
They only spout what they can't comprehend.
They forget that you are ailing from a broken heart and that you're not dumb.
There's only you in your space, alone you stand...
Textbook responses are all they can offer...
They know not that it'll only make things worse...
There can be no replies so nice and proper.
To rid you of your life, your plight, your curse.
They may even share personal events that they think familiar.
Thinking what worked for them may work for you.
But no two situations are the same, albeit looking quite similar.
At the end of the day, you only owe it to yourself to pull yourself through.
I say feed your pain, grieve hard if you must
Wallow... Dwell... Drown yourself everyday.
Let your blood sear your insides, beneath your crumbling crust.
Let the world around you descend into destruction and decay.
What made me the expert...
To say these horrid, putrid things.
Because I am you and we both lay in the dirt.
Driven mad by the persistent echoes of our own misgivings.
I'm no expert... I am just a broken man.
Telling you to let yourself be caught in your own sad and angry song.
Be weak... Be as weak as you possibly can...
So you could rise from the ashes and emerge hale and strong.
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
Muster up the words, "I beg you."
Form some kind of apology, please
This isn't you and you know it
Your heart is too warm to treat someone so cold
The breezy winds flow through your hair just as well as they do your emotions and you're making her feel like a helpless feather with no other choice but to get blown away
Even a simple goodbye would be better than this
Trust me, I know closure isn't really your thing, but she deserves at least something
Anything would do this situation justice, just please talk to her
This isn't you, please snap out of it
I know you've been hurt too many times to count and you're looking everywhere for something or someone to fill your voids but do not use innocent hearts as vices, they don't work like that
Don't rob someone of their feelings just because you have a hard time coping with yours
I know sometimes certain situations and feelings can be interpreted differently, but don't kid yourself, you know exactly what you're doing and quite frankly it's making me sick
You aren't perfect and neither is she, but the least you could do is offer her a bandaid when she needs one instead of drinking her blood and leaving a mess for her to cleanup afterwards without even calling her back
All of this is running like a train through my head when I look into my mirror and see myself start to tear up
The bags under my eyes hold all of the emotions that I try my best not to let out
It should be easier than this
Maybe it really is easy, and I'm just not used to change
I'm not sure about a lot of the things that are happening in my life
However, I am sure that I need to stop becoming a bad memory to others
It keeps me awake at night to think about all of the wrong I've done
That there are people whose only memory of me is how I was the worst for them and I don't want that
To my past friends and lovers, I can't say sorry enough
To my present friends and lovers, please don't give up on me; you are the reason I'm still trying
To my future friends and lovers, I hope by the time we meet, I am nothing less than perfect to you
I'm not used to change, but I could get used to being a good memory
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 1:33 AM UTC
People always seem to misunderstand me,
It's amazing how they can judge so quickly,
That's why I decided to always be the happy one,
The one to make jokes and everything seemed fun,
But what they don't know is that anxiety,
Floods through me.
How much I hold back from the things I really want
You see it's a cruel world out there
I learned how to people can stab you in the back and pretend to care,
How everything you do
is going to be judged by people who have no clue.
So I've learned to sugarcoat my opinions,
Hide behind a lie: a smile
Be the nice one in every situation
Someone who would go that extra mile
Still it wasn't enough,
In the end I was still misunderstood.
Even if my intentions were good
it still got twisted to some bad stuff.
So I just hold myself back
trying to save myself from all the heartache,
Avoiding the trouble my emotions would make
Sugar coating my opinions
In serious situations
Just drowning myself lyrics
Avoiding all the tricky topics
Yet once again they misunderstand me,
They come up with this version of my life story,
they'd assume I'm always lonely,
And honestly it makes me angry,
Because they don't even know me.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
The stigma that sensitive people are weak needs to diminish.
Just because she feels things down to her bones does not mean she is weak.
She carries everything. Her feelings, other people’s feelings, the world around her as she takes it all in.
* * *
Sensitivity is deemed feeble.
Thick-skinned people are the brave ones, right? They have endured so much that they no longer feel anything. Snide remarks, rude comments, and stressful situations roll off their skin like water during a storm. If it’s already pouring, why worry about each droplet?
* * *
That is the problem, she thought to herself. Are brave people truly brave?
No.
Brave people are the true cowards. Rather than taking their experiences and feeling them, letting them seep into their bones to become the marrow which fuels their bodies, they shut them away; skeletons in a closet.
They have become numb to the baggage they carry at the expense of growing numb to everything else.
* * *
People around her are merely living in this world, she decided, whereas she was absorbing it.
In the spring she lays in the grass, running her fingers through each blade as if it were the Earth’s hair.
When summer nights bring a light breeze, she imagines spirits are hugging her.
In the fall when it rains, she spreads her arms wide and gazes up to the sky, knowing that each water droplet that falls is Mother Nature peppering her skin with kisses.
* * *
Others are too preoccupied making sure their skeletons do not peer out of the closet.
Strength, after all, is the ability to withstand vast amounts of pressure and God knows how much force those skeletons must bear.
* * *
In the middle of the night, her father hears her talking to someone, except there is no response. It is as if she is conversing with herself when in actuality, she is conversing with her skeletons.
After midnight when others have drifted off to sleep, hoping that their skeletons do not come to haunt them, she is wide awake, her closet door open.
She lays in bed and asks her anxiety how it’s day was, laughs at a witty comment that her depression has made about her life, and gives thanks to the insult a bully gave her in the first grade for making her the person she is today.
The things that should weigh her down, she has befriended. They come to visit so often, anyways.
* * *
She wonders how someone who has mastered the art of suppressing their feelings is braver than someone who has mastered the art of acknowledging their feelings.
The strength it takes to keep the closet door shut is immense.
However, it takes an unsurpassable amount of resilience to carry the world in her heart and soul while still having the courage to open her closet without being afraid of the things that could jump out at her.
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 3:49 PM UTC
downtown is
a much newer scene than even
i thought it’d be - i was
prepared to be
a novice. i was prepared to be
out of place. and this was
nothing, i could handle these
old odd eyes, i just
wasn’t ready to feel so
dropped in.
but i’d drawn a diagram
of this situation,
a different specific
(god ****
i can’t hear myself think)
why am i surprised to feel
so dropped in
when i’ve drawn it?
drawn upon it?
why am i surprised
that a new brand new
situation feels
just the same as the new situations
of before, when i’ve
had so many
that i can picture the the sensation
of my brain?
i’ve made a series of green lines
on a yellow, lined piece
of paper.
i’ve meant to take it
to my shrink for months.
once,
i had it in my purse and
my guts, when i entered,
decided to shrink.
i said
i was fine, and the same,
and i started to drop
the pills that stole my sleep
onto the streets.
it’s helped,
and i’m surprised. and my brain
feels more awake than
any other time
in the past
three
years…
so.
to which part of town
do i go to
from here?
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
*
The poor get poorer,
The rich get richer.
In some cases it’s a debate
harsh situations Fluctuate
When money speaks, power escalates.
Sometimes…
The poor gets tougher,
The rich gets fragile against danger.
Often times…
Harsh situations make us stronger,
Easy life makes us weaker.
*
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
*Inclusion: the action or state of including
or being included within a group or structure
Solution: a means of solving a problem or
dealing with a difficult situation*
**Now, is ‘inclusion’ the ‘solution’?**
Is confiding not always in yourself,
but being able to confide in people you trust:
a group,
a team,
not an impeccably simple way to solve complications?
Some people that dwell in isolation
succumb to despondency and desolation
and invariably,
wrap themselves in a costume of facades.
Inclusion eradicates these issues.
We as humans
want answers to our questions,
resolutions to our complications;
a myriad of different perspectives
can quickly enlighten and open the eyes
of those who truly seek a solution.
Solution to what?
Solutions to those “impossible questions”,
Solutions to those “exasperating situations” we can’t seem to get out,
Solutions to those “family troubles”
"relationship troubles",
"work troubles",
most importantly,
those “social problems”.
Inclusion is no secret,
it’s the biggest weapon we as people have.
Inclusion gives all of its users the power
to control.
Inclusion is power,
the real wealth beneath our skins.
With inclusion,
we have the solution.
(d.b.d.)
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC