"softie" poems
i used to have
some smiles
7 of them in fact
7 pretty little smiles
one for each day of the week
each brighter than the other
we had monday, she was patient and honest
but we had to give her away because
we saw a passer by who
needed to borrow her for a day
and so we gave her away
the stranger replaced her with a frown
but that’s okay because
we still have tuesday with us
tuesday who is kind and innocent
oh, wait
no
we don’t
because along came a friend who
had a broken heart and
tuesday didn’t understand why but
she wanted to sacrifice herself anyway
before she went she said
it’s okay, you’ve still got wednesday and the others
oh, wednesday
the tough softie
he fought for them when needed
he was loyal, he was brave. a soldier
and i guess that’s why when
my best friend lost her brother
wednesday felt like he had to be there for her
so i let her have him because
at least i could see her smile on wednesday
and before he went wednesday smiled at me and
he said
hey, you’ve still got thursday and the others
then thursday and wednesday bid farewell
two supposedly inseparable soulmates
thursday, sweet and gentle to match
wednesday’s toughness
wednesday was his hero
i guess that’s why
when my sister was in pain
thursday wanted to help
just like the others
thursday hugged me goodbye and
wiped away my tears as he reminded me
it was all for a good cause.
he kissed friday goodbye and asked her to be good to me
and friday promised she would
but she left too
she left while we were asleep
she picked up and went
we don’t know where but
she was always the loud and reckless one
we miss her though
and i think the loss of the others finally
made her
snap.
i don’t blame any of them.
it’s for a good cause.
that morning we woke up
saturday, sunday and i
all staring at one another
i took them in,
the polar opposite twins
saturday with her cheerfulness and wildness, her free spirit
and sunday with his sturdy consciousness and his good morals.
they looked at each other and looked back at me
and what they said broke me
completely
“we’re moving out. we’ve got a promotion and a house. we’ll still visit from time to time, but... we got a job where we can help the others .. it’s for a good cause”
and i feel my shoulders slump as pain ebbs through me
and i say
“okay, i understand”
and we say goodbye
see, i once had 7 pretty little smiles
one for each day of the week
but one by one they left me
they went on to do something great
and here i am now
with my straight mouth and dull eyes
please don’t ask me for a smile
because i don’t have any left within me
©️Elissar Mustapha
15.01.2020
Mar 2, 2020
Mar 2, 2020 at 5:11 AM UTC
Its timeto yoke the joker
yo to the emcees that think they could get with me
i wet em like an ocean tide personality like jekyll and hide
which means im a killa slash for short drama no comma imma
brutal emcee eatin' 'em up the best of em im the lyrical cannibal
flesh rent devil sent no need for repent
comin' with wickedness born with 8 flows if ya only knew
******* come in the sets of three im givin' wishes for free
the rap genie aint' comin' to be a hero the black zorro thorrough
shoot up the barrio dead eye hawkin' assassin' blastin'
with the greatest tech mouth shots or physical shots it don't matter
whatever it takes to get the job done
my posse cocked d slapped you *******
you can smoke all the spinach you want and you leave like popeyes
get it naw forget sensitive ******* i knit it
write in graffiti love hoes shape like Nefertiti queen b goddess
never a ***** **** in my encore **** with me and ill bring the war along with gore
******** never been a softie
daddy had to be a gangsta **** hustler drug dealer all summed in one
so i had no choice but to pack a gun
but meanwhile im onto bigger and better things like rappin' on the mic i cling
flows tighter rhan pliers leave emcees wrapped up like cable wires
the sire embraced higher learning spurning over obstacles
turn complexity into miracles
how could i ever fall if i never fall failure not an acceptation
id rather sells drugs and extortion and get caught wit 25 big ones
fed time **** the state time im on the grind one time
always wanna see me fall black man finna rise planet of the apes style
hot and wild j ceasar with these skills i spills sendin' chills
its an ice age all over just say its over when big yosef grab the mic
prepare for fright when i ignite blast through hearts like a cannon
i just smoke ya ya mediocre its time to yoke these jokers
yea
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
grotesque old Tomon-go
in that corner he holds in the market
he looks angry, fierce and his open mouth
inside as red as the feet of a fighting ****
Ah, his words fly like arrows helter-skelter
some miss, some strike – he does not know
what missiles he sends, what he throws
and in turn anything he receives he throws back
with quadrupled energy
*He looks fierce, he looks mean
all relatives say in hushed tones -
but he’s really nice, a softie with a hard exterior*
at the market his face is convoluted
there are a hundred writhing beings that make
up his countenance
(each a contortionist)
the energy of the practised old grumpy men
live in his hands
and he unleashes words that make everyone recall
the last tsunami
*He looks fierce, he looks mean
all the women and men in the market say
in whispers -
but he’s really nice, a softie with a hard exterior*
Ah, poor Tomon-go, his words and manner isolate him
he hurts others and is hurt in turn
Poor Tomon-go, poor all who come in contact with him
though they might whisper to one another:
*He looks fierce, he looks mean
but he’s really nice, a softie
with a sharp tongue and grotesque exterior*
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 5:14 AM UTC
First time Xanax I tried that **** today, getting a little personal but who cares this is my page. Took that Xanax now my body feeling extra numb, can't even really get up to eat because Like I said I'm feeling numb lol.
anyway i'm not a druggy just like to explore, I'll never turn to crack or heroine that ***** a killer; not trying to meet up with the undertaker. Just trying to have a little fun, feeling beyond this world rising higher than the sun. It's 3am in the morning as eminem states it, the pill was given to me was not going to waste it.
I just know that before and if I do this again, my stomach will be full instead of starving because this **** is not make pretend.
I'm far from a softie jus not used to this type of drug, first time Xanax makes me feel like a trippy slug .
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 3:34 AM UTC
Oh- falling to the floor
falling off the bat; a swing at love, again
It's not all the same, indifferent but still
the clueless cliché. Anyways what could
I say to not seem the clingy type
a softie sometimes, knowing he'll marry
a strong wife
A dragon, fierce fiery breath
she speaks a word of fantasy, and unlike
the rest- she has a tougher flesh, and presses away
my insecurities with an impressive hug pressing
on me with an impressive chest
Self control out of the handle of my reflection
perhaps my emotional side is never-ending
Cherished by a face that could never disguise a smile;
my awkward smile, belonging to Mr always nice guy
Confidently shy, shying away from being a razor
of cutting words to chat up a girl
My mistake to chat sensibly after a little rude talk,
mixed in those silly jokes. I choke on my physical words,
a silent face and volumes of confidence only in these poems
Club scenes are meaningless to me
meaning less of me would be less active than seen
I'm falling in between an introvert, and a little
extrovert trying to creep out a bit
It's always a risk, and amidst in the mist of dispersion
of a stretched out imagination of a ******
Told always, "you really need a girlfriend"
good at making conversation with just a girl friend
Till feelings are involved, it sort of does in my head
Spares to a secondary nature of testosterone
spiking at a random
Making passes of being a little passive- my confidence
isn't so massive, although my caring eyes and heart
are at times attractive
But I still have the eyes of a jealous man; possessive
to means if I find you as a potential. Potentially pointing
out my heart's gun to shoot around your lines
I'll still be a little awkward saying my hie, and wanting
long hugs goodbyes
I'm just so sorry for being this constant shy guy
Jan 11, 2023
Jan 11, 2023 at 3:58 PM UTC
To every Sunday
To every birthday
To all the sleepovers
To the future hangovers
To every movie
To every game of scooby
To every birthday shopping
To every cake mm the yummy topping
To every cake you bake
To every holiday break
To every game of dark room
To your future groom
To every selfie
To our song break free
To every late night get togethers
No matter what the weather
To every pet name
To every journey on the train
To every phone call
To every trip to the mall
To every coffee
To every Mcd softie
I raise this toast
To you, who I love the most.
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 2:47 AM UTC
does your **** get hard when you hear your own voice
or are you really auditorily jackin off a softie?
chokin on pulls between bottles and bowls
we all know you're full of ****
yellin unfair brackets are the worst of it
come back and talk to me with eyes a little less red
with some stories and quips you haven't beaten so dead
if you're fed up with the honesty then get up and head out
I'll never be stoppin ya
scream and shout as much as you like but somewhere else
cause I'm seconds from droppin ya
an understatement is ever hearing your voice again would be too soon
just the memory is worse than a broken out of tune bassoon
in short I don't hope you end up dead in a fire
but to say I'd be sad would just make me a liar
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
PART ONE OF THREE
"I know your works; you are
neither cold nor hot, I am about to
spit you out of my mouth.
For you say, "I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing."
You do not realize that you are
wretched, pitiable, poor, blind,
and naked. Therefore I council you
to buy from me gold refined by fire
so that you may be rich; and white
robes to clothe you to keep the shame of your nakedness from being seen; and salve to annoint your eyes that you may see. I reprove and discipline those whom I love. Be earnest, therefore, and repent."
Revelation 3:14-19
NRSV
Most of what I hear preached from the pulpit today in the US (and indeed around the world) is this,
"When the tribulation comes, the church ("saved") will be raptured out and the lost will be "Left Behind" to endure God's wrath. So don't worry church! The "saints" will go into the clouds to be with Jesus!"
***Bleeeeeep! Wrong answer!!!
Lies!*** From the PULPIT!!!
That's not what JESUS CHRIST said above. Those who are not fit for the Kingdom will have to endure Satan's wrath! God's wrath comes later! To punish the wicked.
And, yep. There is JUDGEMENT.
*R E P R O O F
C H A S T I Z E M E N T
P U N I S H M E N T*
Where in the Bible does it say God is a softie? That HE can be MOCKED?
That He's a Santa Claus in the sky come to give lotto winnings to his "good" little kids?
I'm talking to the CHURCH.
We are preaching
FALSE DOCTIRINE. PERIOD,
IF THE CHURCH DOESN'T
R E P E N T
in sackcloth and ASHES
FAST and PRAY
like there's no
TOMORROW
(which there literally isn't)
they will take the brunt of
SATAN'S WRATH
For those who are found worthy there will be PROTECTION.
Read Psalm 91.
Thank you for reading all of this.
There will be three parts to this sermon. Please read them ALL.
THANK YOU!
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC
Saw a miserable cat stuck up a tree
scared eyes signalling come rescue me
so like the softie I am I started to climb
don’t worry I call you’ll be down in no time
when I get to the top we both look down
my fear of heights kick in we both start to frown
so I shout for help along with a meow from the cat
perhaps the **** but I’m sure he called me a ****
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
Writing poetry for myself
That can made me cry
No raised eyebrows around
When the reasons are
Beautiful words of a poem
It felt good to cry with them
Tears that can wash away
The pain only sad heart keeps
Makes you softie to the core
**** that relatable poem
For they're the only thing
That said you're not alone
The world would read poems
Can't help but love them or
Hate them forevermore.
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC
I am not who I seem
I will never be that girl from your dream.
If you start to care
You'll see what isn't there
You will see past that girl who wears black and scowled at pink and dresses
Wants to be a rebel
Wants to be a badass
Wants to be cool
You will learn to see past that exterior
You will know I'm not all attitude and insults
You will realize that that girl who cusses and fights isn't all there is
Then maybe you'll see deeper.
There's another girl
One who wants to dress up
Feel pretty
Wants to be a princess
Someone who wants to be like the people she admires
A little girl who wants to be cute with a guy
Someone who wants to skip around and be one of those lead people in the movies
Someone who cares
Loves
Laughs
Appreciates beauty in butterflies
Tries to help her friends
Loves very easily and quickly
Deep down you'll see that I'm actually a fragile softie who cares too quickly
Gets hurt too easily
And apologizes too much.
Even below that is the person who is unhappy
The one who is self hate
Stupidity
Recklessness
Self-destruction
The little sad girl that slits her skin and cries herself to sleep
But maybe I you manage to survive all that without letting all my **** destroy you (like it has so many others)
Then maybe
Just maybe
You'll get to meet Them
The part of me that created the 5 minute death game
The part that looked up how to tie a noose
And the one that collects pills
The self torturous part
Not just the fel pitying part
And then maybe if you manage to get through all of that you will find my heart
Cut up
Shattered
Bruised
Scarred
Stitched
And infected
Chained to the walls I build around myself
Pulling me apart
The heart that has bullet holes and battle wounds
The one leaving blood stains on what was my soul
The black mass of hell that is at the center of my being.
An if you're stupid enough, you'll make me love you.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 4:29 PM UTC
i want to know
who you are
are you really
this badass
with a
softie hidden inside?
or are you
a softie
with a
badass hidden inside?
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 8:35 AM UTC
Its been fifteen years sense I last heard your voice
Taken from all of us you didn't have a choice
Gone from this world in just a blink of an eye
Still you had to leave us God has the reason why
You where never perfect had some human flaws
Did some heavy drinking your Demond's were the cause
But still you held your head up had integrity
Deep down you were a softie but intimidated me
And the way you taught us was harsh and never fair
But the way you loved us showed how much you cared
No one could ever read you...you were no open book
Build you up or break you down with a single look
You had the skill to make life the hardest of it all
You were always there for us all we had to do was call
You know I really miss you my heart your still part of
I know that you still love me and watch me from above
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 10:06 AM UTC
[Refrain 1 Confidently]
Our mum is such a softie, no matter what we do
She always gives us what we want, and hugs and kisses too.
We get up late, don’t go to school, and hang about the street
We drop our litter on the floor and scuff it with our feet.
But now …
Do you think we may have gone too far?
Perhaps we should say sorry?
Or is it too late for that?
[Refrain 2 Less confidently]
Our mum is such a softie, no matter what we do
She always gives us what we want, and hugs and kisses too.
We get up late, don’t go to school, and hang about the street
We drop our litter on the floor and scuff it with our feet.
But now…
I don’t know about you, but I’m frightened.
I’ve never seen her like this.
Even when she was cross, she never shouted,
And never, ever hit me.
[Refrain 3 Hesitantly]
Our mum is such a softie, no matter what we do
She always gives us what we want, and hugs and kisses too.
We get up late, don’t go to school, and hang about the street
We drop our litter on the floor and scuff it with our feet.
But now…
She has turned her dark face upon us.
Her steely eyes glitter, her upraised hand
Threatens the very worst you can imagine;
Storm, earthquake, thunderous wave, a hail of fire
Burning, consuming, killing, laying waste.
[Refrain 4 A desperate gabble]
Our mum is such a softie, no matter what we do
She always gives us what we want, and hugs and kisses too.
We get up late, don’t go to school, and hang about the street
We drop our litter on the floor and scuff it with our feet...
Is it too late?
Do we have a final chance?
She was so fair, so bright;
So kind, so all-providing, so benign…
But, now …
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 5:56 PM UTC
I love you both up and down
I love you dull or bright
I love you either hot or cold
I love you day and night
I love the way you tell me things
That you tell no one else
I love the way you aren't afraid
To be only yourself
I love your perfect eyebrow arch
I love your cocky smile
I love your way of arrogance
I love your rugged style
I love how you can make me laugh
When I haven't for so long
I love how you are such a softie
But you try to act so strong
Cliche, I know, but I love you
Just how you are right now
Cliche, I know, but I still hope
That you love me too, somehow
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
I see her
Maria
she's hiding from me
not very well
but
how does one hide
when you're the belle of the..
..call me a softie
I pretend that she's won
and I cannot find her,
she carries on
hiding.
Jul 6, 2017
Jul 6, 2017 at 11:53 PM UTC
You'd think an apology was
An anchor tied to your leg
While in the middle of the ocean
Or a pair of pliers attached to molars
With firm grip ready to pull at full strength
With capability of permanently bruising your jawbone
You'd think an apology was a Louisville Slugger to the knee
Yeah you'd rather take all your winnings and flee
Even when those w's were bought with my own backbone
You'd take my joy
Devour those moments like strawberry scones
Washed down with your choice of ice cream and coffee
Laugh it off and label me softie
Even when strangers would mistakenly
Label me menace
With permanent grimace
When I turn ghoulish and disappear
You'd feel bad
Say you miss your best friend
Hurts to say you'd just miss using me
While I was the fool who didn't mind
Yeah he believed in
Helping one of his Best Friends make it in life
Sad to say that you don't care for me
Constantly joke about me getting close to ending mine
I'm glad that when I pulled the trigger
It was capsules in bottles
Not the full blown steel
Now I won't feel
Bad when you cry saying you feel like a loser
At this point evidence to confirm
Your own conception
Has quite honestly buried me alive
When I distance myself for good
Just know that
It's all because you were to careless on several occasions
To even mumble a measly
Sorry
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 6:03 PM UTC
Ik wil gelezen worden,
geprezen en gewezen worden,
dat mensen zien en voelen
wat mijn doelen
zijn.
Waarom wil ik dat mensen willen,
hoezo zou ik het eten hebben
dat voor hen de honger stillen
kan? Kan ik wel vermaken, kan ik het ver maken?
Of zijn dat zaken die mijn pet te boven schieten.
Lieten mensen het maar weten,
welke emotie ze graag gesmeten
zien.
Zal ik ooit iets meer bereiken,
het zachte harde leven trachtend te ontwijken,
minder klachten rapporteren,
minder zagen, minder zeuren, minder zeiken?
Ik heb het bitter makkelijk gehad
toen ik achter de schoolbanken zat.
Dat kan toch niet voor altijd mijn excuusje blijven.
Heb ik nu echt iemand nodig om op mij te kijven.
Ik wil zo graag vermakelijk zijn, soms
meeslepend, onrustig en soms zacht en fijn,
zo een ander roeren, zoals ik zei
de hongerigen voeren.
Maar ik ben te eerlijk, heerlijk en begeerlijk, in mijn hoofd,
treurig van mijn lot beroofd, machteloos, ontroostbaar, genekt.
Elke dag voor zoveel jaar heb ik mijn schram en wond gelekt.
Wees dan realistisch, werk voor een publiek, doe dan moeite, doe dan
iets. Werk.
Maar als alles door elkaar loopt, blokkeert mijn zicht, ik zie dan straten zonder licht, bowlingbanen zonder hekjes en sporen zonder bomen.
Alles is gevaarlijk, zoals plassen in je dromen, alles is een risico, niemand weet wat kan of werkt. Soms word je dan nat wakker, heb ik in mijn jeugd gemerkt.
Nu word ik ouder, de aarde warmer, de mensen kouder, zou me lijken
en zit ik nog steeds over de kleinste zorgen zo te zeiken.
Je zou me een softie kunnen noemen. Of lief, ‘t is maar *** je ‘t ziet,
je zou me vanalles kunnen noemen, maar dat ben ik niet. Althans dat zou ik niet willen zijn. Ik wil, als mogelijk, een rechte lijn zien in die weg die voor mij ligt. Dat lampen veiligheid bezorgen en bordjes wijzen in de goede richt-
ing. Ik wil één taak, één mens, één doel nastreven,
hopelijk, niet langer drie, een halve of vijfendertig
want voor mij is dat geen leven.
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 3:58 PM UTC
I wish was someone else, nothing like me,
Not so soft, so gullible and sweet.
I wish I could not feel, the harsh winds of life,
To not hear everyone’s words at night…
I wish I was strong with thick skin,
Big muscles, strong opinions and white teeth…
Instead I cry at every movie I see
And cuddle a pillow to fall asleep…
I don’t have social skills, because of stupid fears,
I can’t help that social interactions give scars.
Every single word travels to heart,
Where it leaves a big and nasty mark.
Why would God give all this baggage?
To feel and be in pain for a ticket to heaven.
I hate being soft, but I’m sure I’ll get through,
One way or another, I hope it’s with you.
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 8:15 AM UTC