"somebodies" poems
They say be skinny but not too skinny. They say be girly and lady like, for that is pretty.
They say be curvy but only in the right places.
They say always have a smile on your faces.
Who made such rules?
Who were these people so cruel?
Why can't I just be me?
Slowly in my head the truth starts to creep.
They too were never accepted for who they were.
They too were shamed for every freckle, every curve.
It is not their fault entirely, now I see.
They just don't want us to face the hate they had to feel.
In the process of getting the world to like us though, we started hating our own bodies.
Taught to be somebody's instead of somebodies.
Is it alright that they won't let us be ourselves?
Shouldn't they know better since they've been through it themselves?
The world before them changed them, got into their head.
But we must not give in, or the real us will be dead.
Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 4:00 AM UTC
poems are like the seasons,
constantly changing yet always beautiful in their own way--
ironic, tragic, sadistic, blasphemous.
i can smell the sweet scent of the crescent moon
as it's cold white rays dance across my eyes,
around my head, in one ear and out the other
so quickly that a whistling whisper reverberates inside my dome,
yet unknown to me was the feeling of fleeing--
running away to a land of John and Jane Doe's,
nobodies to me, though somebodies to themselves, I suppose.
here we would sit, regressing our last lines,
of crescent moons, yet now the sun shines.
how can it be?
such a social tragedy, to escape and relate
life as it was to the life chosen to take.
no more "dudes", "dawgs", crude words or flaws--
just life as we know it, no need for applause.
the dying days of life astray have taught us and led us on our way
to the tundra of thunder, it crashes down and haunts us,
once cold, no light, now steaming and much too bright.
go ahead, raise me to the Heavens,
i dread the day my angels no longer beckon,
"His path is now set, we can intervene no longer."
demons will rise in rupturing riptides
as Hell freezes over, yet flames override.
Carpe Diem, Carpe Nox,
i've seized the seasons squealed the silver fox.
the crescent moon looked down that day,
upon us all, upon the choices we made.
Nov 18, 2011
Nov 18, 2011 at 1:53 PM UTC
SOMEBODY'S little girl-how easy to make a sob story over who she was once and who she is now.
Somebody's little girl-she played once under a crab-apple tree in June and the blossoms fell on the dark hair.
It was somewhere on the Erie line and the town was Salamanca or Painted Post or Horse's Head.
And out of her hair she shook the blossoms and went into the house and her mother washed her face and her mother had an ache in her heart at a rebel voice, "I don't want to."
Somebody's little girl-forty little girls of somebodies splashed in red tights forming horseshoes, arches, pyramids-forty little show girls, ponies, squabs.
How easy a sob story over who she once was and who she is now-and how the crabapple blossoms fell on her dark hair in June.
Let the lights of Broadway spangle and splatter-and the taxis hustle the crowds away when the show is over and the street goes dark.
Let the girls wash off the paint and go for their midnight sandwiches-let 'em dream in the morning sun, late in the morning, long after the morning papers and the milk wagons-
Let 'em dream long as they want to ... of June somewhere on the Erie line ... and crabapple blossoms.
2.2k
I want a nobody.
A faceless commuter swearing as the machine ignores his credit card. Or the guy two tables to the left who isn’t checking his watch because he isn’t waiting on someone. Any hoodie-wearing, adidas-laced, prospective english major rambling along the sidewalk.
I want a nobody.
‘Cause there’s never a somebody that won’t say “I love you” because it’s numbed by too many mouths that don’t form their lips the right way. The somebodies slide it off their careless tongues—
because little words are pennies in tip jars.
But Nobody, he’ll say
I love the way you put on a jacket
like some kind of whip-snap in the lapels and collar
tipping your chin up and
hooking your silver-ringed thumbs in the pockets
and I love how you flip through books
eager to break the spine but not fold the pages
holding your breath to hold the focus
propping open a paperback between long tapered fingers
and how the barista at the coffeeshop knows your face!
and blush rises like foam on your cheeks
because it’s so ******* incredible how
when you drum your fingers
you don’t drum you press
into a phantom piano
the treble clef of Linus and Lucy
or The Entertainer
or, if your eyes have already gotten deeper
—in a mossy well of thought—
it’ll be Augustana’s Boston
dancing C-E-C-E-G-E-C-E
in the jumping tendons of your right hand.
*
oh darling, I’m in love with
your clumsy movements when you fall into bed
wrapping a thick comforter over your bare shoulders
curling your legs as you settle on your side
hair fanned out on the bedsheet because
the pillow’s too close to the wall
but lovely, I don’t love you
because I’m not real at all
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC
It is all just a little bit weird.
Seriously. Even words.
WRONG! multiplied by echo { to the power of *F(t) }
Soliloquy. There is no audience.
Imagine an empty hall. People were there once. Somebody left a ticket stub.
Dated 1984, 268 AF (after ford)
Sometime round then. They existed. Somebodies. People.
*F(t) is exponentiality
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 5:16 AM UTC
How ironic to not seek the tools yet drool on them
To see the instruments and break down like a phlegm
How naïve of us to use the gym as an excuse
To prolong it, as if it were drug use
Some call it dopamine others call it clarity
Most see an opening to showcase their barbarity
Called less of a man to those "better off"
Called less of a woman to those showing pictures with their sweater off
Lust driving companies to show children compromised
We see these plaything while revenue boosts the enterprise
Anime, video games, novels and Tv
Nothing seems too extreme for these mediums
Beheading, shredding, **** and made "Dream-like"
Topics have been explored beyond their tedium
**** is accessible and Ai makes your dream man
Merge yourself with your idol beyond the imagination of a regular Stan
Be praised for wearing Japanese *********** and condoning said behavior
Treat somebodies feet pics like your very own savior
The beast wins not with wit, but with a pattern
To catch us in the act frozen still like Saturn
Internet connections show us the milky way
And your hands remain adamant, your mind filthy
The beasts doesn't care of November, nor valentines or about your crush
It waits to clamp you, and turn you into dust
Too ashamed to seek humanity, too far gone to find morality
Repeated until insanity, Your mouth blurting profanities
And yet we blame the beast when our relationships end or we cant break a ***** habit
Then try to pray to catch up to the Sabbath
Why Lie to the beast and to ourselves?
To those who use their hands or run to cheap hotels
Is *********** more worthwhile than redemption?
The beast is with me as I type this, judging my every move
It laughs, uses slurs and denying my attempts to improve
It lives in you, no matter how content you are with your sexuality
And does its all to destroy your Mentality
Nov 13, 2023
Nov 13, 2023 at 8:41 AM UTC
Glowing Windows embedded into mouldy brick walls
Ivy climbing the gutters of neighbourhood roofs
Skies becoming burnt out like charred blackened fields
Tall spiny trees project shadows onto the road below
Leaves curl up to receive some weakening light from above
A formation of sputtering cars cling to each turn they decide to make
Cloudy milky light bounces off faulty windows that exhale the aroma of somebodies impending supper
A heavy truck manoeuvres itself into the blistered bitumen horizon
Dry deflated branches make obscene gestures towards passers-by
Gardeners rummage through their bags as they near the end of their working day
Their faces filled with an expired enthusiasm for breathing
Parked hunks of metal pelted with dead itchy leaves
Windscreen wipers hold fragile twigs down against grotty neglected glass
Chain-link fences link disparate housing and the sleeping people within
Some dispirited unsatisfied psychos gaze up as they catch a moving bus
Smoky Incense billows down from some apartment balcony
The air becomes cold and sharply fills these ordinary streets
Engine sounds try to supress the divine quietness
They only merge into it
Now the stars are out and about
Bright specks waddling in an aerial pool of dark blue
You turn the key and walk through the front door
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 11:24 AM UTC
*The thing about writers is that they’ll win you over with words
It’s enthralling when somebody writes about how your lips are the collision of soft pastels coming together
And how your hair is a waterfall cascading down a masterpiece
Or how your freckles are as beautiful as constellations in the sky
Or how your eyes demand truth in the slivers of honey
caught in a whirlwind of the ocean in your eyes
Isn’t it intriguing the way a writer captures you in words?
Everybody wishes to be scribbled into journals and etched into the back of somebodies mind
After all “If a writer falls in love with you, you’ll never die”
But nobody likes being in the forced silence a writer presses upon a room
Nobody likes waking up at 3am wondering why their lover is scribbling into a journal with furrowed brows
Most of all nobody wants to be loved by somebody whose pen can speak more clearly than their own lips
Being loved by a writer is endearing, yes…
But nobody actually wants to live forever in some tattered old notebook that just collects dust as years go by
Everyone wants a lover who shows as much passion through actions
As they show in their words-
Most writers can’t offer that,
and I’m afraid that’s why everyone and no one would like to be loved by a writer*
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
I finally ******* get it
I need to know when to stop
I need to know when to focus
Enough of the smoke and mirrors
And all the hocus pocus
I’ve got to be preoccupied
To keep everything off my mind
What am I doing with my time?
Am I only a distraction
Instead of being the action
People wanna move
Standing still will make em snooze
Instead of being tight
I’ve never tried with all my might
Nobodies going to tell me what to do
If I expect it I’ll be *******
I cant let my **** be loose
Waking up is only the beginning
The rest of the day still needs some filling
My level needs to be higher
So I can gain and be desired
My brain had gone haywire
But I’ve finally fixed the wires
Finally some of my demons can retire
There are more moments when my head is clear now
Maybe I can finally get the standing ovation while I bow
I want to inspire
Be more than just admired
I want to truly be love
Tired of the when push comes to shove
I don’t want to fight anymore
There’s somebodies children I want to bore
What kind of mother would I be if I was just another chore
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 5:19 AM UTC
Jesus jizzes holy juices,
That you people gently rub upon your faces.
Liers lie to protect that which they deny,
To the lavished living people.
Why won't the sun set,
On this selfish age of *****
I'm tired of these try-hards taking over,
My rightful territory.
Come hold my hand,
As we hoist our way to Heaven.
We'll need to step on some somebodies,
To sleep with the silver lining.
All I need is the native nature,
Of the not so naive heart.
Can anyone help me heal,
These horde cuts from hell?
Let's all do the calm camel,
And claim the dunes of the cautious for our country.
A country we all call America,
The anticlimactic antagonist that aims for anarchists.
Words will always be that way,
Of the world's wary warriors of peace, protection, and self worth.
And with that I say,
So long.
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 3:36 PM UTC
They are brave young men, those, who have gone off to war,
“They’ll all be back soon, ” on the posters they saw.
But they aren’t back so soon, and they’ve fought and the’ve fought,
And some feel they’ve fought for a cause that was nought.
Years have passed by but the battles wear on,
And the news comes back home that more young men are gone.
Never to come home to the land of their birth,
As the fall to their deaths on some strange foreign earth.
As the wars carry on in some guise or another,
We are told of a death, and its somebodies brother.
Its some bodies son, or its somebodies dad,
And we all feel the same, this is all so so sad.
But where will it end, When will it stop?
When can solutions be found at the top.
When can world leaders, see some common sense,
And stay out of these wars, just sit on the fence.
We cannot allow for our men to keep dying,
For people abroad who continue defying.
They don’t want our help, they don’t share our views,
The death of our soldiers doesn’t appear on their news.
We need to accept, that their lives are quite that,
Their traditions are based on historical fact,
To them we have no right to be interfering,
In those countries away where the heat is so searing.
So lets bring them home, all those boys far away,
In the countries out east holding evil at bay,
The powers that be need to find the world peace,
But by talking together & making wars cease.
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 10:38 AM UTC
“There’s 7 billion, 46 million people on the planet and most of us have the audacity to think we matter” –George Watsky
Dear George,
You were there for everyone else. I cried for them all while my dad begged you in whispers,
and you melted into the crowds of people,
and you dove from the balconies,
and pretended like the world consisted of somebodies.
You left me with cold copies and ignorant earth.
Somehow you made 4am into something selfish.
I was losing lessons I was willing to learn. I had no songs to sing,
while you were serenading the ****
and were packing his bags, and became his love letters for her,
and you made me lose someone I never had.
You wrapped every lesson I ever needed up in an empty inbox.
You painted San Fran diamond sidewalks empty gold,and I needed you!
You were there for the mutilated, and kissed their filthy trigger fingers, and spat on birthday wishes, and you made me desire the life of a passenger.
You were the only one that reminded me how to smile; you drowned out slamming doors…
You didn’t have to make the water thicker or make the bottom seem so far.
You didn’t have to give them boats of Titanic shards!
Your silence made sinking inevitable.
You gave me more with empty hands than I ever would have thought. You taught me that every hero dies,
and that I will always love the traitors,
never love cardboard cutouts, or dream of cardboard castles.
You showed me how it feels grasping at ghosts,
and how much you can doubt,and just how much that hurts.
I hope you never write your idols.
With Love,
The Girl That Will Never Learn
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 12:48 AM UTC
***we are
just nobodies
to somebodies
who are nobodies too.***
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 11:34 AM UTC
Haven't you met anyone yet?
They like to ask
I've met a lot of somebodies
But I am a difficult person
Even I wonder how I live with myself
I complicate things when I don't overthink them
Why would you ask that?
Haven't you met me?
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 11:53 AM UTC
No. I cannot say that it's okay...i wanted to be the one to say that, but i let you in...let those scary unrehearsed parts of me dissolve into the dark of your three a.m. bedroom...allowing you to be close to me...believed in an us...trusted and had faith you wanted this, me...
No. i cannot say that i am okay...i came in looking for you to reject me... gave you every chance to take it back...constantly checking your temperature to see how much ground i stood upon, unsure if tomorrow was too uncertain for plans...your lips stamped reassurance on my forehead and hands tugged at my waist reeling me into your bed...
No. I cannot say that i understand...with you i felt joy and peace...you sliced through the silence with your early morning exhortations grieving for the pain you already knew you would deliver...raw passionate vulnerability...you ****** me so tenderly and moaned my name...smiled and met my gaze telling me your stories...i fell in love with who i am when i am with you and you cannot tell me why i won't feel that again...
No. you cannot tell me why you made a fool of me...connecting so completely disarming my heart with false pretenses...betrayed my self preservation and doubts to feel you closer to me...you watched me glow and giggle, sigh and shiver, kissed me long as if i belonged...as if to say "here's what you can't have,
lovely isn't it?"
No. I cannot be angry with you...i am aching with the salty sting of your tears as i held you to my breast...i do not want to hurt you or be painful for you...this is not who i am...i want to be the girl who lashes out with six hands and no hope to contain herself exploding into sobs when you say in cliche that you just want to be my friend...you told me when i just couldn't fall apart...
No. i cannot say that i will be the strong one...you will maybe talk to me a while out of guilt or self-esteem garnering reproach...and then disappear into the ether of somebodies i used to know...from whence you came...
No. you cannot tell me that i do not have a hole in my heart...dejected, replaceable, unlovable me...i doubt i'll ever know why, how you could do this to me...thought that i was coming home via chicago...traveled eight hundred and twenty three miles...you broke my everything down...
You are all those words left behind...the haunting almosts that were caught by my heart on their way to my mouth...
I am everytime you hold your breath... exercising patience and terror simultaneously...
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 10:09 PM UTC
our souls we're much too big for our bodies,
it was bursting out the seams of our small limbs.
maybe everything started that one day
in seventh grade when we lied about what movie we were
going to see,
and we put up our hair in brown piles on top of our heads
and squeezed into pants so small we could feel our bones pressing against
the fabric.
when we walked into town,
miles from your house in the dusty summer,
with me dragging my skateboard along,
with the skull on the bottom
and you walking with you long legs slightly in front of me;
drunkards with
swiveling eyes whistled at us from
a green jeep and tried to cajole us into the car,
my small middle finger was ****** high into
the sweltering air
**** OFF YOU MISOGYNISTIC ********
we couldn't get into the movie we wanted to,
so we snuck into a different one
filled with snow and dark
and twirling tendrils that reached toward us and
made our stomach crawl.
sometimes i miss the times desperately
when we would pack things into a small cloth
sack
food, knives
we'd trek in the forest for hours and
this one time we broke into somebodies pool, dipped our feet in
then got chased away by their livid dog.
we had left the gun we brought there,
you had two and we liked feeling it cold against our
empty fingers,
so i had to run back and get it.
sometimes i think about how if i had never met you,
my life would be so different.
i would have never smoked my first joint
with you on your trampoline
encased in large, fluffy blankets
under millions of stars that couldn't quite fit in our
eyes all at the same time.
we would have never pranced in
yellow drying grass,
and almost fell into your creek, with
your brother laughing behind.
i'm glad we wrote songs
together even if they were about
blood dripping slowly from our open carcasses;
we weren't the most optimistic kinds of
girls.
we had wills as hard as
hitting iron,
metallic in spurting bloodshed.
we were rebellious,
like other girls we're pretty,
and we fought like warriors should
in small, bland classrooms
with teachers who knew nothing of being hurt.
our voices were strong,
unwavering like something found in the depths of a morning sky.
we raised ourselves well, darling.
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 10:37 AM UTC
you'd think in life
we'd be able to do anything
and not let emotions get in the way
...........................................................
sadness
crying every night
watching the latest soap operas
and you think you might die
anxiety
for that upcoming test
you try to study
but your brain feels like a huge mess
fear
a shark in the water
biting at your feet
hearing this
you may not be able to sleep
anger
you get so mad
you may blow up
and bite off somebodies head
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 3:02 PM UTC
small talk and voices abound as
swarms of somebodies walk past.
i tune them out,
allow the words to dissolve to nothing but murmurs.
time passes slowly
sitting in a cold, hard chair,
tapping my toes and sketching stars,
writing and rewriting
the grace that I need
and stenciling it on my skin.
time passes slowly
sorting through files and answering calls and
smiling at strangers with obvious intentions,
but their surface-level adoration
only makes me laugh.
because you love what matters.
time passes slowly
my feet hit the pavement
in steady rhythm,
drops fall down my neck,
and the effort required only strains my muscles,
my mind left free to roam.
time passes slowly
and then,
i see your face,
hear you laugh,
touch your skin,
breathe you in,
curse the time,
and all too suddenly, say goodnight.
and as i walk away,
again,
time passes slowly.
Mar 9, 2011
Mar 9, 2011 at 9:59 PM UTC
This is one for all those sad girls
Who just can't seem to understand
How beautiful they are, how perfect
The girl of somebodies dreams
This is one for all the fuckups
The one's who mean well
And try to be good
But always go down in flames
This one is for all the rejects
Sitting alone on the stairs
Life get's better son, I swear it
Someday this place will be yours
This is one for all the people
Who couldn't find a way to deal
So they checked out
Forever
This is one for you
And here's another for me
Raise your glass to the outcasts
Pray for them to be happy
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 12:30 AM UTC
Today I am *****
I want to be pretty.
Tomorrow, I know I'm just dirt
Today I am *****
I want to be pretty.
Tomorrow, I know I'm just dirt
We are the nobodies,
Wanna be somebodies.
When we're dead, they'll know just who we are!
We are the nobodies,
Wanna be somebodies.
When we're dead, they'll know just who we are!
Yesterday I was *****
wanted to be pretty.
I know now that I'm forever dirt.
Yesterday I was *****
wanted to be pretty.
I know now that I'm forever dirt
We are the nobodies,
wanna be somebodies.
When we're dead,
they'll know just who we are.
We are the nobodies,
Wanna be somebodies.
When we're dead,
they'll know just who we are
Some children died the other day.
We fed machines and then we prayed.
Puked up and down in morbid faith.
You should have seen the ratings that day.
Some children died the other day
We fed machines and then we prayed
Puked up and down in morbid faith
You should have seen the ratings that day.
We are the nobodies,
Wanna be somebodies.
When we're dead, they'll know just who we are!
We are the nobodies,
Wanna be somebodies.
When we're dead, they'll know just who we are!
We are the nobodies,
Wanna be somebodies.
When we're dead, they'll know just who we are!
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
i wasn't tired until you
fell into my arms
and i wasn't tired until
i threw a thousand
weightless snowdrops
to the ground
and i didn't hurt until
the first word
and now
my home is a loud
roar of reverberations
that pass through me
(like a million spoken knives)
and i didn't understand
pain. Until your somebody
stumbled into me
and i couldn't let go
(because they were made of ash)
and i felt the weight
of so many somebodies
(suddenly)
and i began
to think
that - my existence
(the sea
the sky
and the nothing between)
manifested to
pulverize
the
planet
with
each
further
strained
breath
until
it
can
feel
each
pinprick
loss
of
life
it
enforces.
And maybe my rage
forged bellowing
stormclouds over deserts
or made rivers flow backwards
from storm surge (tear driven)
but the somebody i'm not
and the somebodies i carry
will never
be more threatening
than a fadeaway
wind that cries with the lone
wolf.
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 1:00 AM UTC
Somebody’s watching…
The heat of a glare bouncing against your back
Following every move every step you make
Sending shivers down your spine
Somebody’s watching you…
Waiting on you to make a mistake
So they can pick up where you left off
And leave you with his foot in your face
Somebody’s watching…
Sit up and take notice
Watch your back
Cause their just waiting to take your place
Move in your space
Leaving you too tired to pick up the pace
Somebody’s watching…
Taking notes
Dictating what you do and what you don’t
Learning your fears and your weaknesses
Watching, waiting…
Patiently waiting to get beneath your skin
To find out what makes you tick
Cause their only there to win
Dec 6, 2010
Dec 6, 2010 at 9:30 AM UTC
Remember back, yes it was a long time ago
When England and its minions lost their one and only,
Lizzy the Busy, she did get about for an older kind of crow
Flying to her outposts and then in her nineties
Still dragging that old codger about, Philip the Greek
Insulting the natives, well he is a kind of royalty
His odd quip on the colour of somebodies skin,
Never mind how are, what a lovely child and how have you been
She married a corker there, no messing
The lands that carried her name all bowing to her superiority
Many of them just peasants not knowing of her really
From Gibraltar through to Hong Kong where they made her royal tea
Man landed on the moon, remembered for a thousand years
If real or made in a Universal studio
The passing of our Queen so real, some still holding back their tears
Reality strikes when you see what she has left of this once great land
Down to her kids to run this Island of such history
And not left it drift to the sea as if built on sinking sand
Monarchy and Royalty march hand in hand from the times of history
Lets not forget the power that we once held
To be banished away by the politically correct to leave us as a sad story
As she would turn in her grave if this once great power dissolved and died
She may not have said it but her wit and allegiance were British through and through
Grow a backbone and be proud again, and show them at least we tried to be true
JJB
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 10:01 AM UTC