"socialized" poems
Izaak is an introvert
Izaak likes his room and board exactly as it is, so that he isn’t bored
Quiet in his apartment, just as he was in his dorm
But soon his people started telling him, more and more
That he needs to get out more
That he needed to go out an explore
Just in case he ever should look back and wonder
What exactly it was, like if he wanted more?
And so he tried and so he went, out into the world
He spoke and socialized
He brought, and bought and spent until he himself felt very spent and worn
Because Izaak is an introvert, and for the outside he wasn’t meant to be
Let alone to be reborn, and so
After all the stretching, the social pains, the growing norms, which were not wrong
Just different, he was both different, and the same
And in his room, he was welcomed him back
Once again, to the walls of printed ink and paint which he himself did create
Because Izaak, did indeed need to see the differences within his own eyes
But only in time to better understand and represent
The quiet life which he was meant to lead, inside
Because Izaak is an introvert
And no introverted thing is ever truly a waste of time
Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 9:57 AM UTC
From the woodlands of Madagascar
To the highlands of Ethiopia
Dwell nine species of lovebirds.
Their genus name is Agapornis,
From the Greek agape (love) and ornis (birds).
The French call them Les inséperables
While affection between compatible pairs
Can be a joy to behold,
Lovebirds can be quite territorial
And will defend their nest.
Sexually dimorphic they mate for life.
Like all parrots they need to be well
Socialized and taken care of.
They are very vocal, making loud
High-pitched noises, especially
In the early morning time.
Stocky little birds
With short blunt tails
You can hold them
In the palms of your hands.
They love to snuggle,
They love to preen.
Happy birds: together.
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
I don’t know what to order so I order the cheapest thing on the menu
I don’t know if you have lotion, but if you do could I use some
you pulled something out of your pocket, that attracts the consumer I’m sure
it looked lip balm, it looked like blush, but it was lotion
you walked me to your place
made me a whisky and soda
you had mint, you put it in
before then I had read about that only in novels
I didn’t go home soon
I was thinking of polyamory, the next morning at noon
the next morning at noon
curly hair, brown skin, brown skin, curly hair
nose ring, curly hair, brown skin, nose ring, and curly hair
guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt in the morning
I’m mourning over my Catholic upbringing
and do I always have to tell the truth when I write something
I don’t wanna drink and drive like I don’t wanna drink and make love
make love with a woman
I don’t wanna drink and just fritter and **** away
**** off guilty conscience
you’re wrong socialized conscience
let me dip my feet, let me submerge
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC
All these stanzas look alike
they talk about the same things
with the same words, the same poem
written over and over again
like voices, whispers, copying each other
unable to feel and trust experience
differently, socialized for homogeneity
unified but dull, strong but obedient
their writing seemed the narratives
of machines unable to innovate
plagiarizing voices they believed were
their own, authentic, pure
their literary journals were a politics
of masters of arts and agendas of contests
like car commercials without a proper
enjoyment of speed, or our favorite writers
whose names we only knew because
they were the ones who died at the right time
while somebody was looking, reading them
but the bookstores didn’t know their
metaphors were weak, or their life’s work
was merely symbolic, that’s the thing isn’t it
poets are only symbols, as poems are only
fluff, paper, the labor of writers-in-residence
while the rest of the world are more
interested in serial killers and which stocks
might be worth getting into, and when to sell out
investing in words seemed silly to them
and, in my selected works there was nothing
of how to be a Poet Laureate or how to win prizes
exceptional or not, publication was left to amazon
state grants, fellowships, visiting writers
academics who never felt truly how to write
poetry at its heart was a colonization of artists
few could share what that meant, we were
the first illiterate generation, spending more time
with the internet than with books.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
Teasing the beast
Looking for a feast
Hounds barking at our ears
Vultures flying up ahead
Circling a bald eagle's fresh corpse
Compartmentalizing symptom after symptom
To hide the great systematic sickness
Labeling the suffering, outcome from desire
We, wholeheartedly accepting being
Appropriated, labeled, discarded
As construing our own oppression and sadness
Enduring the **** of our minds
Being castrated of our consciousness
Before we reap the products
Of its bold liberation and grandness
Its the belly of the beast
And its hungry
Insatiable, amoral entrails
Hoping to salvage a feast
From the casualties of d(e)moc(ratic) wars
Hoping we feed our monstrous fear
Thirsting for the greed
Dripping off of accumulating wealths
Impatiently waiting, we keep parceling out grudges
Disfiguring our minds, our souls, and our bodies
Its misanthropic nature lashes out without conscience
Knowing we'll never realize we are masses
Disappearing the individuals who realize their suffering
Ensuring there's no collective opposition or action
Trying to reassure we are weak
Knowing at some point or another
We all act mute, deaf, and blind when anyone experiences:
Oppression
Pain
Silencing
****
Hunger
Fear
Violence
Repression
Retaliation
Discrimination
Torture
Negation
Alienation
All forms of mental, psychological, physical, and spiritual mutilation
Fearing death more than fighting for necessary abolishment
Preferring to live out our veiled miseries
Endorsing their continuance
Instead of risking our lives for everyone's liberation
Always ensuring the feast of the beast
By its very efforts trying to decree our very human nature
Ingraining greed, fear, animosity, and weakness as if inherent of us
All parts of its most damaging weapon: the seed of discord
Its implantation, a socialized deep desire for self-preservation
Sheep bleating painfully toward our ears
Vultures flying up ahead
Circling a bald eagle's fresh corpse
Signifying the impending recapturing
Of our true transformative desires
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 11:30 PM UTC
I am constantly checking myself
When problematic thoughts enter my mind
Or negative feelings originate in
The messed up ways I've been socialized to think
I do not wish to own anyone or anything
Yet sometimes possessive thoughts plague me
I must remind myself that we are all only humans
Trying to find our best route to happiness
This one article stated that
The hardest part of polyam relationships
Lies in the negotiation between
Your and your partners' needs
So I must always remain on guard
Because the jealousy and sadness coming from within
Was bred by the broken systems we grew up in
And redefining those is a part of my resistance
Monogamy stems from the patriarchy
And sexism lies within that
Possessiveness and jealousy are not cute
They only lead to blaming others for your own inconsistencies
And I am a mess of inconsistencies
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC
Melting madness and shimmering isles
The bubble-gum boils in drug pedophiles
Let's teach the East to love Western style
We come in with strap-on's and pillage with smiles
The rest of the world watches their watches
People keep saying we're at hour eleven
We're changing the design on our gold lockets
From a heart to a blackjack, Seven Seven Seven!
The college boys assure you that they know the lyrics
And the meanings behind them for they've been enlightened
They swarm out like locusts and pretentiously parrot
Verbatim the textbooks they read when they're frightened
That they'll die with nothing to show for their efforts
They want everyone else in the world to remember
That they did exist on some scale of importance
Even though we're just spun yarn of grass, dirt and oceans
Intelligence streams the consciousness seeds and conscientious objectors it seems
So pardon me for the fallacy of pardoning tyrannical dictator queens
It seems these days to be discovered you need to cheat on your spouse or your lover
You'd think that with all the war crimes we've seen we would have hung at least one or the other
We've got two parties, so pick one or scram! (Look at them squirm as fast as they can!)
They're starting to think for themselves again! Quick, strangle the market and feed this man
Acid and bath salts and give him some tear gas and send him on in to disarm the smear traps
And **** everyone so we'll jump to conclusion with no where to turn, the final solution!
I'm drunk again and we're falling in, the shoreline is riddled with explosions
We don't speak of the war, we have no comment, we're almost out of original content
We're frantically searching for a brand new contest to prove that our nation is still the best
Whether you're China, Russia, Israel, Pakistan, the U.K., or India, the U.S. or Japan
Let's take all the gangbanging **** out of Oakland and drop them in to the Atlantic Ocean
Or better yet, set them loose in Uganda, let's see how long they last in Rwanda.
I'm done with religion and socialized medicine, this aristocracy of pull and deception
So for once in our lifetimes, let's seek a vision, because God knows people can't make ******* decisions.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 4:20 AM UTC
please stop romancing cutting,
depression, eating disorders,
anxiety and suicidal thoughts.
those things are not beautiful.
it is not beautiful waking up
every morning wishing you
weren't here.
it is not beautiful having to wear
long sleeves in the summer to
cover up the scars on your arms.
it is not beautiful throwing up
in the toilet just so you don't
gain another pound.
it is not beautiful missing school
for a month just because you
couldn't drag yourself out of bed
to see daylight.
but you can be beautiful with
cuts and scars all over your body.
and you can be beautiful even though
you aren't too happy about your weight.
oh, and you're still beautiful if you haven't
socialized with people for a couple weeks.
and you're still beautiful even though you
blew out your 16th birthday candles wishing
you were dead.
you're beautiful, but the things that you have done to
your body aren't.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
Feelings overflowing
Dripping from the cracks in my heart
Coursing through my veins
The excess seeps into my lungs
And I can't breathe
I watch you carefully
Trying desperately to read you
But like a million books in foreign tongue
I cannot follow the lines
Enough to reach a valid conclusion
The distance between us is stiff
My body aches with the tension of this anxiety
And though I avoid eye contact mostly
Sometimes I let myself slip
While it felt so wrong before
I'm learning to love myself
And embrace this capacity
To love multiple people at once
I'm slowly accepting my feelings for you
Swimming alongside my love for her
And here we are
Waiting patiently for what?
We have the perfect chance at something
Anything
And we embrace every minute of it
Every flirty text that makes my heart race
Every tear spawning from our partners' faces
The beautiful distance between us
Without the pressure and rush often associated with love
We sacrifice our energy on loved ones who don't understand
The true extent to which some humans can love
We endure the pain of supporting confused partners
So we can spend that extra time getting ready
To look cute for a simple conversation on my couch
I'm happy this way
Free from the socialized constraints of monogamy
Allowed to feel freely
To love freely
And regardless of where this experience leaves us
I'm going to embrace every opportunity it offers
And though our path is terrifyingly unmarked
I couldn't feel more at peace with it
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 4:07 AM UTC
As the **** of a 12-dollar cigar
touches the tip of the tongue,
the nervous system shoots a signal to the brain,
to process the sweet tinge
of delicious poison
that hits the back of the throat.
Slow suicide, baby,
really doesn't get any smoother.
Human bodies may desire health,
but it’s the mind that struggles
and tests mortality
as the heart races
for the best ****
Hipsters and their vapor pipes,
their overpriced organic groceries,
coke binges and ****** addictions,
gym memberships and spinning classes,
they’re socialized to believe life
goes on forever.
They behave as if death
is a kind of curse.
We can run from sins,
wash our souls in the rain
of fresh lovers in new cities.
Sins, however, collect.
They grow in strength.
All we have in the end,
is the sweet tinge of satisfaction
that comes from killing oneself
in style.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 2:10 PM UTC
Broken bottle friends, some call it social alcoholism
Everyone’s famous, for the night at least
The value of signatures
Listed above names on bar receipts
Drug dealers playing in the street, what some might call shamanism
All it really is, just an eclectic collectivism
That leads to remarkable nights that aren’t remembered
Realizations that problems are just and our lives dredge on
Invincible for the night
Or perhaps
Just brave enough to embrace ones true self
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
Disgusted now that America is busted
For voting in sewer rats and gone to bat
For making this into an autocracy,
Working to gut democracy and replace it,
Deface and deforest all of the best
Then sell off the rest of the planet
From the water to the granite
Leaving only inedible gold
Shoved into the the wallets
Of the national pickpockets
And liars while they set fires
And burn down the country
With their hatred and bigotry
Unchecked by the lazy populace
Too stupid to know what danger is
While it is marching into their homes
Making every state a danger zone.
The traitors who own the industries
Hold a gun to journalist monopolies
So that artificial realities are sold
As socialized necessities
To people who prefer tabloids
To history books and crave bromides
For this time it is the Christians
That fiddle while Rome turns to ruins
And ashes surrounded by those who fought
While a complacent half of America did not.
I am sickened at the laziness,
The political father of craziness
Has let this horror happen to this,
The country of which I was always proud,
And sick of how loud the rats are
That they have taken destruction so far
That we may never recover again
And start to elect countrymen
Instead of men to own the country
Without a scintilla of modesty
And treat fine people shoddily
Merely because they can.
Who needs that kind of man?
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
I said no and
Backed away he made
Advances anyway and groping
Goblin hands tried to pilfer what Venus
Owes man
“The Inheritance”
My crop shall rise
From your field I claim this
Land in the name of
Man
With his grabbing
Paws he bent her over the
Bed, to get on with it
She trembled, teary then
He lifted my skirt up, I shouldn’t have
Been wearing it
He was really messed
Up, maybe if I hadn’t looked so
Willing, so easy
I
Asked
For
It
I couldn’t believe the
Blame, even as it fell from her
Hung head and
Hidden face
It
Wasn’t
Your
Fault
Socialized to please the guys
Why?
Victims hating self, non-believers, mental health
I’m not liking college
She confessed
Where’s the safety net?
And then she walked back to
Missing friends and
Silent pain and
Ambulance calls for alcohol’s
Waterfalls and consequences
Fading details and
Stories cops won’t believe
What were you
Wearing, they asked her
Were you drunk?
It
Wasn’t
Your
Fault
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 3:22 PM UTC
So what do you think of me?
You think I don't try?
well I try
oh my god do I try
do I cry
always lie,
you think I'm reclusive
elusive
aloof
and kloof
You think I like it that way,
solitude every day,
think I don't care to talk
or catchup to you and walk
you think there's a reason
I don't and haven't socialized,
well It's because I'm being terrorized.
You can't see it
not from where you sit
step in my shoes
feel what it's like to lose
see the earth on fire
trapped on a spire
a hero holding arms out
too petrified to jump or shout,
you know where safety lies
but black rain falls from black skies
and you're not sure if those arms are for you
or another in need of rescue too.
So hear what it's like
with nowhere to hike
overcome by a thousand eternal flame
that make you think you're to blame
that you feel this way because you set the fire
it got out of control only growing higher,
you feel ostracised and unwanted,
hated ugly and shameful and jaunted.
You live in fear
it's all your fault,
growth maturity and experiences put on halt,
post traumatic stress
a scared, shameful child and nothing less.
So what do you think of me?
think I don't try
I don't care
nothing behind my blank stare,
well there's everything behind these eyes;
apocalypse covered in flies
bruises and scars
heart to the stars
a longing shiver
pristine liver
paranoia and neglect
depression can't forget
a pig reflect
insignificant insect
-So what do you think of me,
look and tell me what you see,
and for you I can guarantee,
nothing is as it should be.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
Atomized,
Anti-socialized,
No one to turn to.
No one to help you.
In a hypocritical world
We look to him for direction.
We find in him a solution:
Where actions become
The only form of thought,
There lies the virtue of sacrifice.
No one will deny
The purity of blood
Selflessly shed for this dream:
“When these centuries of struggle end,
Paradise will be complete.
Everything is possible.
We can change the world.”
Oct 15, 2011
Oct 15, 2011 at 1:04 PM UTC
I see you stand and gaze around the room
Looking for Mr. Who Knows Who
I wonder when you stare who is it you see
and have you seen me...
the one over in the corner
the one always out of sight
the one that's barely mentioned
the one hardly given the time
You walk along the ocean, enjoying the surf and sand
The shells are secondary as you search for the perfect man
I wonder as you walk by the sea
have you seen me...
the one on the single blanket
the one who averts his eyes
the one that tastes the ocean
in the salty tears he cries
As you sit at your computer browsing through the dating sites
Filling out the questionnaire of your does and do not likes
Looking for that true companion on the newest dating scene
have you seen me...
the one that's also on the computer
the one that's anti-socialized
the one the goes unnoticed
even in his own eyes
have you seen me...
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 8:52 AM UTC
bukowski socialized with
sean penn and madonna
but he did not care for
the material girl with her airs,
acting like a literary
poseur, name dropping, chatting
about swinburne, like
some patron at a bloomsbury
salon. she even asked
him if he would appear
in her raunchy *** book
but he refused. bukowski
would complain to sean
about madonna's phony
behavior and sean would
get furious and defensive.
bukowski just laughed it
off. he valued sean as a
friend and an artist but
he had no time for
madonna playing hip,
he said, she's not being real.
bukowski treasured his
daughter, his wife, his cats,
classical music and his
muse, his way with words,
characters, situations.
he was a regular guy
and a gifted poet...
and everyone called him hank.
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 2:44 PM UTC
As a white, middle class female, history and society have labeled me an oppressor.
And the fact that I have come so far to face is that, by nature,
and by that I mean by the socialized conditioning of my white ancestors, I am.
An oppressor of the people, of the land, of myself.
The history of mainstream culture has deprived me of a connection with nature.
It is this social history that I tire with, that I struggle to accept.
See, but with this wisdom comes freedom,
a freedom to reject the path that society and history has paved for me
and to find my own, to find my own truths.
I am a conserver, and I have found nature to be a conserver too.
Traces of my roots and my life reach further than any town limits or cemetery stonewalls.
You can’t cover my spirit with foundation, eye shadow and lipstick.
It may hide death in my face, but it won’t beautify my spirit.
My soul needs no resting place.
It will continue on to live and breathe in the absence of my body,
which has only been a vessel.
I will not be confined.
I can not be confined, not by religion, not by my race, not by my class.
I will not be put in a box, not in life, and not in death.
Aug 12, 2011
Aug 12, 2011 at 4:43 AM UTC
What makes a lovely lady or a bad B***h as people claim?
Is it that she can twerk Bend it over or "Bust it down" Is it cuz she's ratchet (Hudson brothers/Funky Dineva voice) or How her "humps" (Black eyed peas) or As some say ******* sit right..A** so phat perhaps" But what if her figure shows she has no A** at all
Next before I say whats in her head...Let me break down the outsid. First, can and if her hair can she get some natural love for that. Two for whatever weave or extensions she has can we please extend our knowledge to get to know the higher insides of someone before we seek their lower one's
If she has no or short hair at all can people stop short coming her or give her no respect or decent courtesy at all (ALL Right) Here's the inside part we as females been socialized to have the greatest appearance but unfortunately due to emotional instability and many incapabilities we or some of us Us have no sense of confidence or Endearance
With all this said I go back to that title of this piece Based off a sing called "That thing"
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
My second semester of college
My sociology professor tells us not to qualify our input
Because women are socialized to be sorry.
My voice has been used against me
Taught the only things it is good for
Is saying "yes" and "I apologize"
We are taught to cater to a man's state of being
And his state in general
Why are we called patriots?
Because our existence contributes to the patriarchy.
Our very lives are designed to entertain the male psyche
We are the pits of water for the buffalo to come to
Indulge in
Drain of our substance for his convenience.
We become too weak to fight
As "meninists" quote the Bible
Saying we are not meant to be equal
But when their seventh grade knowledge of quack biology
Is proved to be bad science time and time again
Will anyone fight to liberate us?
My second semester of college
My New Testament professor
Tells us the biblical interpretation of gender inequality
Is bad reading.
What if God is woman?
Would this deity have her body torn from the towers of heaven
Would she be called a ***** for smiting the world
With a great flood?
If she is woman
There are many more floods to come.
We eat the body of Christ at communion
If God is woman
Her body will be eaten by vultures every day.
We stand, we recite as we have been so kindly instructed
"This is my body
Given for you."
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 12:19 AM UTC
You’ve got more than meets the eyes
You’ve been praying your whole life
And you’ve been saying what socialized
you’ve got no belief and you don’t realize
And how can you wonder why?
Life’s moving faster than our time.
One day you are gonna die.
What will you have left behind?
Don’t say you’re sorry, don’t apologize.
It’s truly not my life to fully recognize.
But take those covers of your heart’s eyes
But when you do, don’t act so surprised
Now you’re not allowed to wonder why
I am just showing the truth where it lies
If it is painful that’s something worth the mind
Just remember not everyone is kind.
Remember not every one is kind
Remember many are still very blind
Remember again not everyone’s kind
Now think of those still in disguise
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 6:52 AM UTC
A ****** river pierces through
The raw heart of society
Inflicting souls of blooming youth
With socialized propriety
In the core of suburbia
The river flows along the roads
It runs into the neighborhoods
And out the faucets of their homes
What awaits at the river’s mouth
Is a mindless understanding
“Conform or be confused,” it roars
“And live on forever thirsty”
Most children of the world
Are begging for a drink
But some know the river’s tide
It controls what you think
To the conscious youth there lies a choice
To be lonely but be free
Or let the river erode your mind
And be carried out to sea
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 4:06 PM UTC
Socialized Medicine
as well as
Autonomous Warfare
propagated by the same administration;
how very far
we
as Humans
have come.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 12:57 AM UTC
Welcome to America,
Where we don't judge you by the color of your skin
But maybe you shouldn't say it
If you have to defend saying you have a black friend.
Welcome to America,
Where every election talks about illegal votes
from a bunch of illegal hosts
From the side you hadn't chose
Then throw your opinion down legal throats.
Welcome to America
Where the news said socialized medicine
Was just another word communism
And you believed them.
Another man got a six figure bill for cancer in his throat
Walking out alive with his house foreclosed.
No money for food, wondering streets unfed.
He's alive but he wishes he was dead.
Welcome to America
Where we talk about gun control
They think that a ban is the goal
But maybe we should look more into who gets sold
And maintain a license to keep
Knowledge is power, totting guns but weak.
Welcome to America
Where the internet is your MD
Don't trust the man who got a degree
Who went to school and ruled your move
But you just Googled it so it must be true
Welcome to America
Where I have pride in this land
But everyone is out of line
For reasons they don't understand
Being ignorant doesn't justify your mind
And maybe even I am out of line
But I'm listening to comprehend
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 4:44 PM UTC
How can they say what MY nature is?
That what I was born with dictates my temperament.
I must nurture and endure the pain,
Allowing my body to be distorted and bloated,
All for some husband to have a mini-him,
And to add to my constant laboring.
Men socialized to treat a wife like a mother,
Coddled and fawned over by her,
Allowed to come back from work to a home cooked meal,
While their wife's endless work never ceases.
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 9:15 PM UTC