"susceptible" poems
My Bipolar Disorder is a stout-bodied mammal with horns and cloven hooves.
There are two types of My Bipolar Disorder:
Domestic, and Mountain.
My Bipolar disorder typically spends its days grazing on grasses
My Bipolar Disorder will dig depressions in the ground to sleep, rest, and bathe in.
My Bipolar disorder is super social during the winter, and tends to go solo during the summer.
My Bipolar Disorders tail usually points up! (Unless it is frightened or sick)
My Bipolar Disorder is extremely Curious and Intelligent.
Once My bipolar disorder has discovered a weakness in its fence, it will exploit it repeatedly.
There are over 300 distinct breeds of My Bipolar Disorder.
Within' minutes of being born, my Bipolar Disorder is up and walking around.
My bipolar disorder used to live in the white house with Abraham Lincoln.
One day an ethiopian Herder walked in on My Bipolar Disorder liteally bouncing off of cliff walls because it just Discovered Coffee.
My Bipolar Disorder has four stomachs
The horns of My Bipolar Disorder are typically removed to reduce injury to humans.
My Bipolar disorder will explore anything new or unfamiliar in its surroundings, mainly with its mouth and tongue.
My bipolar disorder readily reverts to the wild if given the opportunity.
My Bipolar Disorder is more susceptible to Parasites and other infectious diseases when it is mismanaged.
My bipolar disorder has had a lingering connection with Satanism and pagan religions
My Bipolar Disorder is considered a "clean" animal by jewish dietary laws.
According to Zeus
As long as you leave it's bones whole,
My Bipolar disorder will keep coming back to life.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC
there is a monster beneath
the lofty, billowing sheets of my bed
beneath the mattress
the box spring
the carefully crafted wooden frame.
[he lives in the shadows,
in the obscurity there.]
i should feel sheltered...safe,
underneath these sheets,
[like my mother’s arms
tucking me in tight,
don’t let the bed bugs bite.]
but when my arm dangles off my bed,
when i commit that fatal mistake,
i feel a draw to the ground
more forceful than the force of gravity
seizing my hand
paining to pull me under.
and i know it is the monster.
i feel his yearning
for the blood and guts of a child...
his desire to rip me apart
like a lion does his prey.
i take back control of my hand,
wrap my arms around myself,
feigning safety.
for as we all know
that monster could very well
clamber, creep out
climb onto my bed
and swallow me whole.
i don’t know why he hasn’t yet --
perhaps he likes the challenge
of waiting for me
to be susceptible enough to
forget myself
and leave my arm suspended
for more than
just a moment.
i am curled up into a fetal position
paralyzed by my fear.
the anxiety invades my joints
so that i cannot move anymore.
i fall into a fitful sleep
and wake up to sunshine radiating
through my window,
casting the intricate patterns of
my curtains on the rug.
during the day,
the monster cannot survive.
but when nighttime falls
the darkness returns,
my trepidation returns
and the monster is alive.
well, again.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 2:54 AM UTC
To my socks,
We play footsie every day,
I can't go anywhere without you.
To my socks,
You are like a ******
when my feet are without you,
They are susceptible to great danger.
With you,
Less so.
When in shoes,
Without you, is like a sweaty, fiery hell,
No relief.
With you,
Soft, comfy, footy majestic ness.
Walking on cold floors,
You are still there for me.
Even for that poor boy Richard, he uses socks now and then,
For his silly foot,
Poor boy.
I admire you dear socks,
They're is nothing else I would rather have on my feet.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 7:50 AM UTC
(Quote by Spike Milligan)
One very wise man sat and said
That, long before this world is dead
This planet’s problems won’t be solved
By reasoning which, though now evolved,
has got us, where we now do sit,
Afloat neck deep in mankind’s ****
There’s SARs, Ebola, AIDs, Bird flu
And in the woodwork, West Nile too,
Each replicating viral spat
To mutate, (at the drop of a hat),
To complicate enviro’s stew
Of global degredation’s brew.
Urban spread and over stocking
**** deforestation’s shocking,
Depletion of aquatic life
Intrinsically creating strife,
Industrial pollution’s goo
Ozone depletion... ALL FOR YOU!
*Environmental degradation
Means the world’s a weaker place,
Susceptible to malady
Wide spread across the human race.
Those animals in corn fed stalls
Who never get to see the sun
Or graze green grass where honey bees
Are vanquished by varroha’s fun.
Too late to save the Hector’s dolphin
Conservation’s lost it’s tools,
Rastafarian hootchie smokers,
Save the whales to **** the fools.
Governments sell the carbon credits
Everybody smells a rat
Restorations for the birds
And social conscience creamed the cat.
****** greenies own the airwaves
No one gives a flying ****
That good artesian water’s poisoned
By good farmer’s leached out muck.
CO2 in global warming
Sings it’s song of fast decline
Glacial retreat a-roaring
Bass relief in blood *****
I guess the little children’s future
Most depends on lady luck,
Humankind in mass denial
Most don’t give a flying ****
Marshalg
In retreat to Taranaki’s green haven in the gales of the equinox.
21 September 2011
Sep 21, 2011
Sep 21, 2011 at 2:09 AM UTC
Falling in love can make me vulnerable
Vulnerable to rejection, pangs of jealousy, fear of failure
I want relationship, but are so afraid of revealing my innermost self and getting hurt if I do so
Vulnerability ended me up in shutting down intimacy
...An uncomfortable feeling
I tried to appear perfect, strong and in control
In truth it's the opposite of my everything
What if he sees me weak? Submissive? Easily hurt emotionally? Susceptible to sadness?
But if knowing that he sees and loves me for who I am and to see him in all of his vulnerabilities too and still love each other the way we do now....
Then falling in love means having the strength to face vulnerability
Then vulnerability means courage and bravery
Then vulnerability means willingness to face uncertainty, taking the risk to be fully committed with the man I truly love
Vulnerability is inevitable no matter what we do
So does falling in love also is inevitable no matter how we avoid it
Embracing vulnerability may just be one of life’s most fulfilling experience
All the more if it means connecting with the one we love
Then, with all of my vulnerabilities, I am willing to embrace my fears for as long as Im taking the risk of loving the man of my dream
Because my love for him is stronger than my vulnerabilities
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 3:50 PM UTC
(Quote by Spike Milligan)
One very wise man sat and said
That, long before this world is dead
This planet’s problems won’t be solved
By reasoning which, though now evolved,
has got us, where we now do sit,
Afloat neck deep in mankind’s ****
There’s SARs, Ebola, AIDs, Bird flu
And in the woodwork, West Nile too,
Each replicating viral spat
To mutate, (at the drop of a hat),
To complicate enviro’s stew
Of global degredation’s brew.
Urban spread and over stocking
**** deforestation’s shocking,
Depletion of aquatic life
Intrinsically creating strife,
Industrial pollution’s goo
Ozone depletion... ALL FOR YOU!
Environmental degradation
Means the world’s a weaker place,
Susceptible to malady
Wide spread across the human race.
Those animals in corn fed stalls
Who never get to see the sun
Or graze green grass where honey bees
Are vanquished by varroha’s fun.
Too late to save the Hector’s dolphin
Conservation’s lost it’s tools,
Rastafarian hootchie smokers,
Save the whales to **** the fools.
Governments sell the carbon credits
Everybody smells a rat
Restorations for the birds
And social conscience creamed the cat.
****** greenies own the airwaves
No one gives a flying ****
That good artesian water’s poisoned
By good farmer’s leached out muck.
CO2 in global warming
Sings it’s song of fast decline
Glacial retreat a-roaring
Bass relief in blood *****
I guess the little children’s future
Most depends on lady luck,
Humankind in mass denial
Most don’t give a flying ****
Marshalg
In retreat to Taranaki’s green haven in the gales of the equinox.
21 September 2011
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 3:14 AM UTC
Don't deflect my insecurities
Acknowledge them for they are real
Don't brush aside my inadequacies
I can't help the way I feel
Hugging myself close, searching for reassurance
Through tear-stained glass I grief strickenly see
Seemingly I've lost my tight-rope balance
Clambering up ever so desperately
May think I'm wilful
Because I often get consumed
Don't judge me unstable
Just dormant emotions exhumed
Place a palm against my chest
Between sobs, my heart beats strong
Laying my turbid mind to rest
As I whisper me the comfort that I long
Don't be afraid of me
I know I tend to get lost
Alone in my storm swept dinghy
Susceptible to the chills of frost
I can't control, I get carried away
With the dream I'm set to pursue
I can't curb or hold myself at bay
I'm weak because I haven't got a clue...
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
1. Fallow brown, like he's poured his whole soul out through the gold sieve and lies in wait to be replenished.
2. The color of the ocean. Blue, I guess, but that’s not even the half of it. All the ruggedness of the waves—forming up, breaking, and forming again like life is only the motions. Her eyes are blue, but you could hardly tell.
3. A hand-painted bowl of fresh chocolate frosting from which the most immature hands soonest get a mouthful.
4. Beautiful. Like, drop dead gorgeous. I’d dig my own grave and stick to rolling in it if she ever looked at me some type of way. Their color? I don’t know. But most of all, I dare to wonder about the bludgeoned scar between them.
5. Sturdy cobalt. Far more indicative of her steady heart than gold could ever hope to be. Still susceptible to tear, but not so easily warped by heat or stress.
6. Simply brown. No, red? It’s always been hard to tell through the fog. Truthful like the rawest earth, I’ll call her mahogany.
7. Faded blue spray paint over a slate gray wall. Forcibly muted after her years of blasting music, but there’s still that rogue twinkle to them that I pray slips through the cracks.
8. Coffee, with all the vim and vigor to make you click your heels and fall in love.
9. Unripe lime seen lazing in the shade. Not fit for a margarita just yet, but straining at the bit nonetheless.
10. Hazel, although I still don’t know what the **** that actually is. Whatever. It looks nice on her resume.
11. Green. Or were they blue? The memories of her were too wonderful, too important, that I had to let the littlest details fade away first.
12. The crystallized seafoam that made me realize I deserved to feel alive, too.
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 3:09 AM UTC
I was raised in the wild
With all the defiled
So my mood was mild
While bodies were piled
I was a lonely coyote
The other creatures didn't know me
Because I slinked in the shade
To avoid their detection
Loneliness is what I had to trade
To pass their inspection
Other animals couldn't brave the weather
Or their fragile arteries were severed
They laid there dead
I wondered if they ever lived
It went to my head
What this world can give
I saw the buzzards
Ring their buzzers
Then the maggots fed on their brain
While not understanding their pain
These images did me no good
While I was stuck in the woods
And I couldn't see the forest through the trees
I was lost
If I didn't find a home by winter I would freeze
In the frost
I tried to find a home in hollowed trees
But I was chased out by a bunch of bees
And the darkened caves
Seemed like shallow graves
When that's where bats play
But peaceful open meadows
Left me susceptible to attack
Everything seemed mellow
So I had to watch my back
Winter was approaching
And I saw no solutions
The cold air encroaching
Like frigid pollution
But my shady luck shifted
Once I was graciously gifted
A powerful and majestic horse
That put me on a better course
I ride the steed with a leather saddle
Made of skin stripped off simple cattle
It took the strength of an ox
To hold down this fox
Yet my domestication
Calls for celebration
Because now I live in a house
Without having to hide like a mouse
I can strut like a peacock
With a bird of my flock
It's a form of animal husbandry
Because you're in love with me
I'm the insistent critter
From a different litter
That saw life wither
From damage inner
I was a raccoon digging through the trash
Now I'm a phoenix rising from the ash
You're an agricultural guy
So vultures circle the sky
Looking to harvest your bountiful crop
They must smell death underneath it
Their presence makes my heart drop
And all I want to do is defeat it
But even as they get near
You remain here
We stand together as scarecrows
In a defensively unified paired row
This is the delightful day
You end all my wild ways
And eliminate my suffering
With your animal husbandry
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
Papers are flimsy, fragile
so susceptible to time
and harsher climates.
Scissors cut and divide
thriving on irreparable separation
to leave us in pieces and scattered.
Rocks are rough and tough
facing--and looking--the worst
while enduring every day and night to come.
My choice resides amongst the stones
constant, long-lasting, dependable
in the challenges that may have others call
for support when they can't stand alone
for maybe the times they lived were too much, too long
after facing the blades which cut them into small, segregated fragments.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC
Some people just can't handle driving
Everybody goes mad on this road at one point or another
The consideration is to keep the hatred within your own car
There are tools to be utilized
The escapism of music for one's health
The catharsis of muttering to oneself
Nobody should hold it against you
If you scream inside your car
They should understand
If you wanted to express yourself outwardly
You'd just flip them off
The abbreviated visual version
Of attempting to insert negativity into someone's life
It's healthy to be hurt
Your heart telling your mind that their hatred isn't normal
It is now on you to let sleeping dogs lie
And forgive those that trespass against us
Humor is my exit off the frigid freeway
Children in grown bodies
Their clothes are too big on them
Clearly confused about how to act
Taking every side road that catches their attention
That's funny enough for me
I've never flipped anybody off on the road
I learned from my father's story
She gave him every excuse to be angry
And he expressed that to her
The intended effect was reached
Her susceptible emotions were breached
Leaving a wise man to question his own actions
What was the point of that again?
That's why I try to keep an even keel
While sailing down the highway
There will always be people
Who honk at you for driving down the middle of the road
Remember to let those sleeping dogs lie
Or they'll be roadkill
And it's not nice to laugh at little people
But no one will know if it's from inside your car
And you can cozy up to the comfort created
By the signs on the road
Warning those people
They're driving in the wrong direction
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 12:40 PM UTC
Strange nights, starry eyes
a little something to keep me going
no I don't lack in surprise
or modesty
and yet if honesty was a commodity
I'd surely be rich and living it up
or dead in a ditch for never giving it up
and you just don't quit
pry away the drink from my hands
and take a sip
never seen anyone
bite anything
the way that you bite on your lip
I don't know what you're looking for
but you won't find it in me
a compliment, a shred of decency
a night of thrills and secrecy
a shoulder to cry on
or just something to ride on
no, you won't find it in me
Got no money, no worries
don't sell drugs
never felt the need
not a pick me up
or shake you down
nothing changes when I'm around
no I don't want you
and you don't want me
Living life like a grazed knee
the pain is always there it stings
something always has to rub up on me
so if another stained garment
is what you want to be then, darling
pick away at my layers
I can never seem to heal
but I go on like nothing hurts me
and it could be worse
you could be just another verse in my poetry
and the night isn't over yet but
you've just about heard enough I bet
I don't know what you're looking for
but you won't find it in me
a friend for the night, a happy ending
a story to tell your girls, a heart for mending
someone to rely on
or just something to ride on
no, you won't find it in me
Got no money, no worries
don't sell drugs
never felt the need
not a pick me up
or shake you down
nothing changes when I'm around
no I don't want you
and you don't want me
Still relentless in your advances
but I can't take any chances
I'm susceptible to heartbreak
why do you think I'm sat here drinking alone?
unlike you I haven't looked down at a phone
I've no one to call, I've nowhere to be
if you're wanting a simpleton that's not me
I'm not offering late night comfort calls
I don't even own a settee
are you my therapist now?
too many questions are detrimental to trust
and I think you've just about heard enough
I don't know what you're looking for
but you won't find it in me
won't pick you up, won't shake you down
won't show you a good time and stick around
I'm not your wings to fly on
or just something to ride on
no, you won't find it in me
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 11:27 AM UTC
And their hearts were pure diamond
For they would always be
Tolerant,
Noble,
Sympathetic
To the needs of those around,
But they were susceptible
To the weakness of those
That were
Fragile
Flesh
Human
Emotion would taint the pure,
What was once solid changed
With each transgression
The heart changed
Ruby
Raged upon those around
Uncontrollable cracks did show
Emerald
Eyes ignited by the wanting of others
Love, belongings, tainted colours showed.
Amber
They could not take the emotion
Confusion
Frustration
Depression
Was the end of many, on to the
"Shards of tears"
Would many then fall
Torn to pebbles, now resting beneath
They were once pure heart
Diamond,
"Shone through"
But once the seed planted it grew,
"Then the inevitable"
The sins turned a heart to stone
Frozen with emotion,
Erased just cold rock now stood
A frozen moment,
Life,
Stillness,
Corruption
Had taken another ancient
For one day all would be but rock,
Those that helped the beginnings of a species
Now all is corrupted by the taint that is man..
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
Similiter et omnes revereantur Diaconos, ut
mandatum Jesu Christi; et Episcopum, ut Jesum
Christum, existentem filium Patris; Presbyteros
autem, ut concilium Dei et conjunctionem
Apostolorum. Sine his Ecclesia non vocatur; de
quibus suadeo vos sic habeo.
S. Ignatii Ad Trallianos.
And when this epistle is read among you, cause that
it be read also in the church of the Laodiceans.
The broad-backed hippopotamus
Rests on his belly in the mud;
Although he seems so firm to us
He is merely flesh and blood.
Flesh and blood is weak and frail,
Susceptible to nervous shock;
While the True Church can never fail
For it is based upon a rock.
The hippo’s feeble steps may err
In compassing material ends,
While the True Church need never stir
To gather in its dividends.
The ‘potamus can never reach
The mango on the mango-tree;
But fruits of pomegranate and peach
Refresh the Church from over sea.
At mating time the hippo’s voice
Betrays inflexions hoarse and odd,
But every week we hear rejoice
The Church, at being one with God.
The hippopotamus’s day
Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts;
God works in a mysterious way—
The Church can sleep and feed at once.
I saw the ‘potamus take wing
Ascending from the damp savannas,
And quiring angels round him sing
The praise of God, in loud hosannas.
Blood of the Lamb shall wash him clean
And him shall heavenly arms enfold,
Among the saints he shall be seen
Performing on a harp of gold.
He shall be washed as white as snow,
By all the martyr’d virgins kist,
While the True Church remains below
Wrapt in the old miasmal mist.
4.7k
To even commence to define how profoundly I fell in love with you, I would need the capacity of a thousand-page manuscript written in the most romantic idiom.
Each, and every retention of us is stowed into the back of my conscious, and concealed deep into my heart.
Every beautiful memory plays through my head like soft music.
I would say my heart is immovable. There are days that I try to sojourn the thoughts of you, but its intolerable for me to do so.
I am so engulfed in your perfection. I do not think there has been a single day that you have escaped my thoughts.
I can feel your presence with me if I ponder our memories deeply enough. Your presence weighs heavily in my heart. It is as if part of your soul occupies its crevasses, and fills my cracks.
Your eyes are echoes of a hundred distant galaxies no man has ever revealed. Vast windows that reflect the constellations.
My heart is certain the universe resides in them.
As I begin to study your face, I feel like nothing but love can exist.
Your porcelain perfection never ceases to weaken me.
You weaken me with love, trust, and desire. Like the finest specimen created by the hands of Gods.
As I anticipate the connotation of love, the implication is “you”.
Even if the fire for what you feel for me dies, I do not reason the passion I have for you will ever dim.
I do not begin to recollect if I had ever felt this susceptible.
I let this passion be valued like the rarest stone.
I would give up the entire world if it meant I could have you in my life endlessly.
Your happiness is of grave importance to me, when I study your smile, I can overlook the darkness of this decaying reality.
Every heartbeat of time my mouth declares three unpretentious words.
“I love you”.
I say it like an invocation.
Not one moment did my tongue express profanity against these golden words of poetry.
I love you. “ I Love You” . And solitarily just you.
I wallow in my own sorrows at the thought of the culmination, when we shall one day part at death's hand.
For I deeply distinguish that you love me equally, and this brings vast pleasure to my temperament.
I sense security in your encirclement, your heart is my home.
My heart qualms of my fragile weakness that I consume when I dream of you.
You make me susceptible to the sickness of love.
If love was a poem, you would be the title.
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 10:30 PM UTC
If the Sacred Fire of Vesta went out, it meant one of two things:
meant
1. Rome was in danger;
meant
2. A Vestal ****** a guardian of the flame, was having ***
Chastity and fire
are two attributes that are directly correlated. If one is lost,
the other will follow. Trust me. This is fact:
only ****** women
can be celebrated.
The ****** Mary,
the ****** goddesses,
the way **** was seen as a crime
against the father, not the daughter:
women
must
remain
pure.
Do not eat the pomegranate seeds,
do not touch the fruit of knowledge. A
statue of a young boy
holding an apple
does not hold
the same connotation
as a woman holding an apple. Offering it to a man who
could have refused. Getting blamed for the fall from Eden.
A woman
with a snake draped around her body is not Eve,
is Lilith, but it’s close enough. They are both to blame for
all the evils of the world, so what does it really matter anyway? Women
are more susceptible to wavering in their faith in God,
to worshipping the devil, to practicing witchcraft—
The flames are out. Rome is not safe. A ****** is buried
alive for her sin. Lilith is slaughtering women in childbirth.
Babies are dying. A man is celebrated for his multiple
lovers. **** shaming in 79 AD. The beds in Pompeii
brothels are made of stone. St. Cecilia is face down in the
dirt. Women on the same level as slaves, if not lower. The
goddess Vesta as a housewife.
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 10:47 AM UTC
Today
anybody is the right body,
taut and lean,
exploiting youth.
Flesh is flesh on flesh,
smooth and seamless.
Making love is not love;
purely a fabrication that lures in
any susceptible soul
with salty, passionate promises.
Bodies fall victim to bodies,
deluded by ecstasy
over and over
and over again.
Though they may release a double negative
at some point in time,
lips never lie.
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 1:56 AM UTC
More fickle than the seasons
fragile like thawing ice
attached with a firm grip
clutching like a baby’s hand.
Desperate but never dangerous
susceptible yet not defenceless
acquiescent, though a fool.
They are the simpleton’s
that embrace counterfeit fables,
illusions of promise
And at the end
that makes them break
Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 8:21 AM UTC
Defining Lego Moment? What is that, I don’t own one!
Life growing up was unacceptable – it was chemical and dispensable
My life has never been a bed-and-breakfast - early childhood memories got me ill and susceptible
Tryin’ to find a good early childhood memory is like NOT passing “the test”, because I wasn’t in class. So I ask, what’s next?
Defining moments were replaced by worries and doubts, fears and shouts
My, oh my, why couldn’t I have been brought up in someone else’s house?
I’m just me. So why can’t anyone see I’ve got dreams I want to turn into reality?
I know, maybe I’m adopted! Oh, I could only wish that I belonged to a different home
So who knows, maybe I’m supposed to grow old in a world where survival is at the core of my bones
Future me, I hope that you see, I’m not like them, nor do I ever want to be “like them”
-----------------Fast forward to today ---------------------
I thank GOD for the life I was given and the road that was driven
I’m here because of those dreams which started out as fears - I’m what I am because of those years
I know that I wouldn’t’ be here if it wasn’t for those days of dysfunction and tears
I’m at a junction in my life - I’ve realized that my unction in life is an exponential function that shines like a bright light
My tears have been replaced with people who are sincere and true
I no longer have to worry about the black and blue, now I can simply wave ado…
So I chose to become not what I saw, but what I knew was right in my heart. I leaned on God and learned from stressful nights that choosing the road less taken was all part of this plight
And here we are today….
Now, what does this say, about me?
It says that I’m a child of Destiny, not a child of Disney
It says that I’m a child of God not a child of the Devil
It says that I am…
Predestined presently, sensibly created even though I didn’t come from the best pedigree...
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 1:52 PM UTC
Nine months after I was born, the Twentieth Century began to collapse.
East Berlin,graffiti-mural concrete, a jutted enigma scratched
on ordinance maps, the sort found
landscaping westernized Primary School walls.
Where within, labored in real time, the television told my parents
(and everyone else given to social conservation in 1989) that a wall falling down
would bring an end to the gap between the working and the working poor.
Freedom waited for many on the other side.
But of course, History draws up different plans.
Never content to just go out with a bash, or to
fleetingly drift by leaving
in its absence an underwhelmed lull
The bloodiest century yet
left the new world entrenched
in an odyssey of hatreds
handed down from the past
right about the time human suffering became a bit dull
and the peaceful countries were too busy
tripling their money instead.
What does History really teach us and what are the real benefits
of being free, or freer than you were before?
Human ambition, which burns it way out of any oasis of calm,
which calls children out of sleeping in the night
Always seeks out the exhaustible
An inveterate Black sheep leading astray
the ever susceptible ****** lamb
Delusion’s strange bedfellows are the worthiest adversaries
to run away from, to reserve contrition for.
Unlike the inevitability of uprooted animal migration
during a monsoon swell
Can a people with an invested addiction
to the pursuit of happiness
Ever truly be prepared
for the inevitability of rapid change?
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
I see humans but no humanity
I see a society but no unity
Happiness comes from within
But we all seem to forget
Ignorant, naïve
And judging from incompetence
Fighting for peace
Not respecting history
Searching for truth
But you've lost your way
No more believers
Forgotten how we got here
Looking for freedom
But support the oppressor
Don't accept responsibility
And hope you don't get caught
Because you're not really breaking the law
Your conscience is poisonous
Apparently your doing things the right way
Children are dying from illness
But we're complaining about immigrants
Stop following public opinion
And separating nations
Just because you're not blind
It doesn't mean you can see
Teach your future generation
Less clothes equals beautiful
And white equals superior
Money equals power
Divide between the lesser who are inferior
***** hatred and say its dutiful
Who are you trying to fool
We're dropping like flies
She killed herself because of cyber bullying
And he's tired of acting strong
Fearing to cry and be ******
Abuse, neglect and poverty
Increasing frequently
Morality crisis
Blame the youth and teenage pregnancies
To combat it a genius says let's teach them whilst they're younger
Sounds good right?
What about censorship
Safety and protection
Young minds are susceptible
Ignore the practice and theories
Pride doesn't let you back down
Blame the rap and rock music
Its preaches violence and hatred
Rebel riots and corruption
East and west its affected us both
Greedy bankers
And terrorists or freedom fighters
A time of lost trust
And each to their own
Independent battles
No one is connecting the dots
Its like global dominoes
Inter connected problems
One leads to another
And the root cause is lost
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 6:38 AM UTC
Though excruciating,
I have delicately incised my heart
And left it open for you.
Blood and all.
I am completely defenseless,
Truly surrendering what is deepest within me.
All of me is on display,
And I am vulnerable, exposed.
Our environment, unsterile,
Makes me susceptible to infections:
Hate, judgment, abuse
That spread through the words and actions of others,
Attacking my system.
And, subconsciously, I internalize them,
Accepting them as my own.
But I trust you to care for me.
I believe with conviction, I must,
You have washed your hands
In preparation to touch my heart
With the gentleness I need
And cannot provide myself.
Because alone, I am unfixable,
Permanently damaged and slowly losing blood.
Dying behind my seemingly perfect demeanor,
A closed facade.
I trust that because I have exposed my pain
To you, solely you,
We can begin to repair the destruction
And stop the hemorrhaging,
Together.
Thereby providing the means by which
This earthly vessel, and in turn
The fragile soul inside,
Can finally begin to heal.
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
I am not spring
frost thaws eternally
from shallow-rooted fronds
tenuous and unbound
susceptible to wind's constant round
battering the living flat to ground
sodden, smell of decay all around
time is fleeing
these shoulder seasons
with all their restless reasons
yet to unfold in you
sun-soaked glade
I need your rays
to germinate
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 11:23 AM UTC
Substantial quadrants of hate
Throughout these veins circulate
Spiraling in frenzied states
Adrift an ailing coma
Infinite corruption clawed my corneas
Birthing the erasure of euphoria
Imprinting trademarks of memoria
Leaving in wake vile aromas
All confidence dissolved to solvents
Due to definitive involvement
Susceptible to gaunt installments
Marring my skin with melanoma
Mother Earth serves as a mime
Humanity must be refined
© 2012 (All rights reserved)
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 1:23 AM UTC
whether it be your
local shop
or the park across the road,
a nightclub
or a library, or
the school where
your children go
we're here
the bathroom,
the classroom,
the living room and kitchen,
marching downtown
with a rainbow parade
or hidden
in the closet
we're here
we've been here
forever
did you know that
ancient Greece
was a homonormative society?
we've been alive,
just trying to live our lives
we're here
no less human,
no less susceptible
to hurt or pain
or love;
we love in bright, bright colours
and we love freely
never bound by binaries or convention
we're here
you'll never be rid of us
as we are not
a disease
to be cured.
all we want to do
is be as free to love
as you.
we're here
we aren't going anywhere
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 3:31 PM UTC