"symbolize" poems
Nothing more beautiful
Than a pair of big brown eyes
Our world tells us that for eyes to be beautiful they have to match the skies but that's all lies
There's nothing more beautiful than staring into her eyes and seeing how her soul is connected to the earth
Mother nature's nectar, and me just a hummingbird
Only needing one, I don't need to be a collector cause you see
Her beautiful brown eyes are deeper than blue skies
her beautiful brown eyes are compassionate and wise
I could not vocalize, all her brown eyes symbolize, or how much I love staring them as she wakes me up at sunrise
And when I'm with her it's hard to prioritize, all I want to do is romanticize, hop on our cloud and rise
I'm so happy I met you, my darling, the girl with the brown eyes
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 1:43 AM UTC
A haze of smoke
Blurs the picture
Lipstick stains the
Cigarette that flickers
Red painted nails
Tap the frozen rails
Champagne bottle,
Dating back to Versailles
Blacked out eyes, matching skin
Bruise alike
**** it with a shot of gin
Little white flowers
Shot with a polaroid
Symbolize my paranoia
Pastel colors litter my eyes
Watching the rain fall
As time flies by
Twinkling Lights of the city skyline
Closed eyes, sip of wine
Hot coffee, big sweaters
Take a sip, enjoy the weather
Old book
Faded maps
And worn out ball caps
Gold jewelry flashed about
Parties thrown in nthe underground
Now I begin, haven't you heard?
Aesthetic is in, what a beautiful word.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
Let me trade in my smile for fangs
And my feminine fingers for paws.
Let me trade in my manicured nails for claws
And my curly locks for silver fur.
Let me trade my heart shaped mouth for a long snout
And the freckles on my nose for whiskers.
Let me trade my curves for a round, bushy tail
And my clumsiness for strength and agility.
Let me trade my tears for whimpers and barks
And my voice for howls in the night.
Let me trade my dinner reservations for hunting down a moose
And my poor senses for keen ears and a nose.
Let me trade my soul for a different one
And become a friend to the moon.
Let me live my life as a wolf
And all that it encompasses.
Let me symbolize the dawn and the dusk
And let me symbolize the converging of light and darkness.
Because that is wolf,
And that is what I see, when I look in the mirror.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
"Diamonds are forever"...they will stay like a love that's true
A diamond can symbolize the faithful love that I have for you
But never think that this heart I offer is something that is fake
My love will see you through, and that's a promise I won't break.
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
i am sorry that the world looks down
on your skin
on the darkness of it
calling it ugly
unsightly
i am sorry
for the comrades you've lost
(mothers fathers sisters brothers
innocents)
i am sorry that
people shame you for
the color of your skin
as if you can do something about it
as if it were a curse
when all it does is symbolize
the strength
the tenacity of your people
i am sorry that society
breathes down on your necks
burns your fingers
whips your backs
i am so sorry so sorry
for everything
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 7:45 AM UTC
In My Salad Days
Salad Days
**Wikipedia:
Modern use, especially in the United States, refers to a person's heyday when somebody was at the peak of his/her abilities, not necessarily in that person's youth.**
~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Salad
Hints of tints of golden
pear skins,
combine with
ruby'd cranberries
each a face, the cheeks of alcoholic old men,
each wrinkle,
a life's recording.
All are mates for the
marcona almonds
nestling, playing hide n' go seeking
tween silk sheeted leaves of
butter lettuce.
All dressed to the nines,
underneath a top hatted, cravatted, Fred Astaire
marinade.
Coated, bathed, loved,
protected by a vinegar of balsams,
aged grape must, pressed,
a lovely, desirable color,
a brown and bronzed rust,
pressed, then left,
to easy rest for
oh so many years,
like I do, easy resting,
when you feed me in
My Salad Days.
The Days
Though it was a life, decades destructed
Millenniums of de minimus,
Forty plus Seders of exile, of hell,
Marked by promises, whispers, horseradish tears of
Next Year and Jerusalem,
Time steeped in a tradition of patient waiting.
Each year, recorded by a spot of red wine
Purposely Spilled,
By my father on unbleached Passover tablecloth,
To example, to symbolize that
Messiness in life,
Is O.K.
The Salad Days
Salad served with irony generous,
When beard greyed and scraggly,
White speckled, wisps of sea salt,
All my youthful greenery, long wilted.
Yet the words herein writ are my
Afikomen, my just dessert,
My victory song of Hallelujah
Just before we eat, celebrating
My Feast of Ascension, marking a
Delayed Arrival, yet right-on time of
My Salad Days.
It was only when
I was resurrected as two bodies,
A pair of cuffed links coupled,
In My Salad Days,
With the taste of freedom,
A first-born infant survivor,
Was I rebirthed, and to the fore, risen.
When words fell from smiling lips, and
Rain and tears flew upwards, and
Each and every breath was an
Amen.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 1:44 PM UTC
Purple has always been my favorite color.
Mixed with Red, the color of passion,
And Blue, the color of dreams.
Ever since I was a child, I’ve loved purple.
“Dark purple” I would add, “With sparkles”
I had to specify, and toss in a cute giggle.
I was so young then. So innocent and naïve
I didn’t know that purple could symbolize something
Something like peoples’ rights.
That was back in the days when “gay” was just a word
Often appearing in Christmas songs
I always knew it to mean, “happy.”
So, when I heard that two men were gay
I was happy, because that must mean that
They’re happy.
When I got older, I learned that happy as those men may be
Others weren’t happy for them.
People weren’t happy that these men were gay.
I never saw anything wrong with it.
I was not gay, but I was supportive.
I didn’t care what other people liked.
Then the term, “bisexual” came up
And that blew my mind.
People could like men and women?
No! I was straight! Of course I was.
I didn’t like women, but I didn’t care if you did
I liked men. That was that.
And then there came the fatal attraction
Nearing me towards bisexuality,
And I embraced it.
All of the sudden, I liked men and women.
Without even realizing that it was in me,
I realized I liked them.
My mother was shocked, but supportive.
My father was the same.
My brother still doesn’t know.
My friends were all excited for me.
Some were confused.
Even a year after realizing it, some couldn’t tell.
Some thought I was joking. Some still do.
But nope, I was not.
I was bisexual.
I grew up Catholic, and I knew
That God loved all his children,
And every creature great and small.
And I believe this;
If God made me, wouldn’t he want me to be happy
With whoever I want?
If Heaven is that cold,
Then maybe I want to be cradled
In the warm fires of Hell.
If God is our father
Satan is our Uncle
Our gay uncle apparently.
Man. Woman. I just don’t care,
So long as they love me for me
And I love them for them,
I couldn’t be happier.
One day I will find someone, but I don’t know
If it will be a male or female.
But it will be someone.
And I will always wave the purple flag proud.
Free and happy.
Oct 21, 2010
Oct 21, 2010 at 3:24 PM UTC
i am in love with the city lights
i love how they illuminate the faces of countless dreamers
i love the way the city shines like the billions of stars in the sky
i love that they light me up inside and make me feel alive
i love that to me they feel like opportunities telling me what is possible
i love that they remind me of the possibility of the impossible
i love the millions of fireworks that ignite in my heart when i see them
to me they symbolize dreams, heart's desires and holy grails
some people say they are just artificial, others say they waste energy
that maybe true, but right now they are just as beautiful as stars to me
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 6:49 AM UTC
All it took was for you to skate away
And immediately
My tears rolled down as your wheels rolled away
Come back I shouted
“Come back”
It echoed...
But all you heard was noise
The wheels and the road, in contact…
Going further away was all you wanted...
While I wanted you as close as possible
Do you still remember...
when we hugged and kissed last night?
When you told me the stars weren't enough to symbolize your love for me…
Was that a noise of truth?
or a false metaphor?
They say,
Selfish acts come with selfish measures.
Which makes me wonder
Were you being selfish for the sake of lust?!
I mean you already have me…
What more could you possibly want?!
Am I not enough?!
Who is she?!
What is she to you?!
Don’t you dare tell me I’m making a noise!
Can’t you see I nag and whine simply ‘cause I care…
Don’t act selfish as you claim to love me…
Give me your all
Don’t be selfish with love…
Rather love me fearlessly
For I too…
will love you and only you…
I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you…
Forgive my unnecessary noise but…
I love you!!!
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 1:54 PM UTC
What is the meaning of a letter?
They resemble the severity of the talk
of the shame
of the crying
Or maybe they mean laughter
happiness
hope
What is the meaning of a plus or minus?
a plus or minus can ether mean life or death.
Ink.
You grow up knowing that red automatically means
F
in recent years I learn that its the colors like
yellow
purple
pink
that symbolize the F.
The harsher the mark, the better the grade.
Shouldn’t it be the other way?
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 7:19 AM UTC
Ruby red love
She didn’t give it a shove
With delicate diamonds just above
A love to find
Not the gaudy kind
Purposely shaped heart
In search of where to start
Placed upon a tiny finger
To make one stop and linger
A Ruby shine
With Red glare so clear
So much so
That one could begin to fear
What would happen if they
Tried to disappear
Runaway they might
With just cause
Of too much fright
Would bring her to shed a tear
That Red ruby so clear
Reminds her of the cheer
And the time he spilled his beer
Red ruby dazzling bright
If only see the light
Whats its symbolize
Character or compromise
She was utterly surprised
That tiny clear red ruby
A reminder
Love is never like that movie
Ruby red love
Unmistakable beauty
Recalling a late summer sunset
A clear preset
With its curves
Upon that finger
Can be a deep stinger
If not preserved
Prompts the feeling
Sensationally deserved
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 11:47 AM UTC
Figures Dance Across My Memory,
In An Erie Ballroom,
Lit Only By The Light Of Vanilla Scented Candles,
The Light Of The Moon And Stars,
Glaring Through Transparent Windows,
Congregate In Creamy Daffodil Colored Flames,
Every Women I've Cried Over,
In Extravagant Ball Gowns,
Stitched With The Misery They Brought Upon Me,
With Them,
Every Man Which I Have Bawled Over,
Wears A Tuxedo,
With A Withered Rose In Their Pocket,
To Symbolize My Pain,
And A Tie Laced With My Own Tears,
The Ballroom Of Horror Caters,
The Party On The Top Floor Too,
Everyone Who Has Made Me Smile,
Dances Erratically,
Singing Along And Laughing,
Though The Demons Beneath Their Feet Houses,
Barbaric--Criminals--Found Guilty Of Heartbreak,
And As They Slow Dance To Rhythmic Beating,
Of A Broken Heart--That May Never Mend,
Something That Rips The Gauze Wrap,
From My Wounds,
They Smile,
As They Masquerade In My Ballroom Of Horror
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 10:59 AM UTC
Dear Future Daughter
Don’t worry about making right choices
After you born on this planet
Because choices are what you are gifted
Do remember courtesy of love
And give it to your Mom
Who open your eyes
After she kept in you in her warm womb
For
Nine months and Nineteen days
Dear Future Daughter
I don’t want your favorite colorist must be pink
Like any other ordinary girl
It could be anything
Which symbolize you a real astonish bold amazing girl
I don’t want you to be normal girl
Who live under someone else life
And trapped by dogma
Live for you
Live for your happiness
Dear Future Daughter
I won’t worry about what your hairstyle is
I won’t care what your fashion is all about it
I won’t stubbed you
Because you are the outcome
Of my amaze marvelous *****
No matter what life is up to you
No matter how many boys fallen in love with you
Not a big deal how many Purpose you would be going to rejecting it.
Dear Future Daughter
I promise I will love you with all of my heart
No matter what and your smile will be the upside of my day
I don't need you to be perfect, although you will be perfect in my eyes.
©Saujan Gyawali
15 December 2014
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 7:06 AM UTC
Nigeria our great and beloved motherland,
where multitudes of tribes unitedly stand.
Our land of hope by two rivers divided,
with lush vegetation by nature provided.
Nigeria our home of people resilient.
A land of great icons in works diligent.
We hail thee our great and revered black nation,
our land of human dignity and redemption.
God arise and take your place as sovereign Lord.
Enthrone Thyself in Nigeria's seat of power.
Make her edicts and laws Thy eternal word.
Let justice prevail in her courts by the hour.
Our flag will peace and industry symbolize,
whilst our history will always immortalize
the deeds and sacrifices of our heroes past.
Help us Lord to serve our beloved land with zest.
Nigeria the blessed will pervasive peace know,
even when the threats of tumults seem to flow.
Her crops and yields will neighbouring countries nourish,
from her fields that inexhaustibly flourish.
Sep 17, 2021
Sep 17, 2021 at 5:01 PM UTC
Your eyes are so beautiful but sad.
Ladders on your walls with
"unreachable" peaks encapsulate you.
Chapped lips and blistered palms
symbolize your life's struggles.
Scars coat your arms
as you crawl on such rugged rubble.
God, who lifts his hands to either
punish or reward, heard your prayers.
All your ordeals and prejudices
has burdened you in many layers.
Your eyes are so beautiful but sad.
A rare beauty is what I call you
but I know you wouldn't like that.
Amidst all the troubles of your days,
a compliment might seem like the
last thing to say.
I have seen your trials and denials,
your slavery and hopeless compliance.
I still see the beauty in you and I can
write it in words but cannot sing it in tunes.
But don't worry, pain is temporary
and it would leave soon.
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 4:05 PM UTC
JIMMY large nose natural hipster totally informed clever funny sincere yet aloof
JOEY tall tan lanky physique long thick brown hair in braid striking good looks yet self-unaware
SHANNON athletic build attractive brunette accomplished poet so good she doesn’t need to prove it emotional sensitive tough
ANNE Joni Mitchell good looks bohemian self-effacing impulsive submissive *****
ACT 1 scene 1
a deserted chic indie reception area somewhere present 8:30 PM
JIMMY (singling out Anne) you’re so beautiful i want you so bad
ANNE oh yeah you’re sweet to say that
JIMMY i mean it you symbolize hope inspiration in me
ANNE hope? oh god
Anne looks away runs fingers through her hair
JIMMY hear that song over the speakers?
ANNE yeah
JIMMY it’s “Home” Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes very cool check out rough trade east version on youtube
ANNE yeah right
Anne blows air out her nose looks away in Shannon’s direction
SHANNON (singling out Joey) do you read?
JOEY yeah some
SHANNON what are you currently reading?
JOEY uh a text about economic international relations
SHANNON hmmm interesting do you ever read literature or poetry?
JOEY nah not much
SHANNON like movies?
JOEY yeah sure some
SHANNON what’s you’re favorite movies?
JOEY “The Devil Wore Prada” “Eddie” “I’m Not There” i don’t know there are tons of movies i enjoy
SHANNON interesting
JOEY i need to ask Jimmy something excuse me
Joey walks across area to Jimmy
JOEY that western shirt looks so cool on you
JIMMY thanks yeah it’s a hip shirt what up dude?
JOEY oh god Shannon is hitting on me she’s way too full of herself way too available
JIMMY hmmm nice toned body bet she’s a tiger in the hay
JOEY not interested
JIMMY me neither but i could be persuaded honestly i’m blown away with Anne
Anne approaches Shannon
ANNE Jimmy is a conceited **** he thinks he’s so cool Shannon you look so beautiful this evening your hair complexion
SHANNON funny I felt so blah all day what did Jimmy say to you? he’s not my type but not so bad if only he had Joey’s looks Joey’s shy sweetness look at Joey over there his eyes lips he’s so **** I think I’m falling in love and yet i recognize falling in love requires a huge territory of untried tolerance
Anne’s fingers stealthily pocket Shannon’s tortoise-shell comb while Shannon observes Joey fawning over Jimmie across room
ACT 2
refer to ACT 1 scene 1
Jul 3, 2010
Jul 3, 2010 at 6:15 AM UTC
Psychopath, questioned and played with, complex mind games with
Paper fortune tellers and crystal ***** utilized by con artists.
Chrome decorated room filled with trippy, grippy, grabby men
With blue cats swimming around their head. Coherent words do not exist to them.
Sucrose breaks you down, sweet creature, and thieves the antimatter in your empty scull.
Your favorite song no longer passes through your hollow ears.
Notes and the beats... A heartbeat. The thrum of a low piano key in a house supposed
To be isolated and abandoned. You are not alone here, child.
The demons summoned her because of the lettered board between a mattress
And box spring. The springs are broken from too much activity,
Don't jump on the soiled mattress. That's how you receive punishment.
But one without two does not match the storybook your mother read to you.
The nauseating tale of role,play and ********** Everyone knows the story, seen the Disney.
You can run, but you can't hide from the memories of horrible visions
Given to you by the gods. Hold on, child. You will grow to be a man one day
Despite the nightmare of being a wolf child who clawed his way out of his mothers womb.
Jolt and sweat, forgotten top bunk , and a concussion;
The dreams are back. The recurring realities of a twin long lost, but somehow inside.
Dream catchers don't make the callback list, can't act for the life of them, but
They are beautiful against the scenery.
A porcelain doll holds the demon that hacked my system and took controll of my history,
And once again, she takes my place, fooling everyone into thinking I am here
When, in reality, I am buried six feet under.
Blood dribbles from the letters chilled into my stone, I curl and let them add more letters into
My back to symbolize the life I led. The collection of poems I wrote about you are the ones they
Cut into the skin on my legs, permanent reminders of what I have felt.
"What have you felt?"
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 10:13 AM UTC
1
Her thick dark eyebrows did cast a spell first,
they are stuck there like vampire bats,
they both symbolize a sinister plot, kept secret,
with a 'come hither' prompt, none can resist.
She attracted artists in hordes, crazy moths,
never did they look above her face,the serpents,
lay tangled and acted as if it's smooth coiffure.
Wicked lust,aroused by bitter past,
made her move with keen intent
an invisible net she carried behind her back.
She attacked at opportune moments, pretending
she is a lover, with insatiable lust in boil.
2
All crafted lies, simultaneously,she artfully solicited,
colored moths, in her slow fire, they burned, one by one,
but one remained stuck there for life, fearing rejection every moment.
A crop of heads she reaped , wherever she went,
a kite was ever ready to fly her victim-hood colors higher and higher,
that made admirers **** in their breath and stoop,
before her to her advantage, she had no dearth for volunteers any time.
Burning words made her chants fly like fire works,
her collection of heads turned stones by admiring her
increased, as a huntress she was an ace
stuffed in her cubbyhole of a heart, heads of stone languished.
3
Medusa,you don't have sisters,
I count it the luck of those unborn
how beautiful, you once were I still remember,
though no sun visited the north you spent your childhood.
Run, run my feared beauty, to the sun, before your heart
get charred by the heat of hatred, you bear in the Gothic interiors.
4
I hate Perseus, don't you fear your Nemesis?
Every Athena you wrongly think your foe and fight,
all your hair turned serpents, still I thought, love would work,
without coming upfront, I kept my flame burning,
but all in vein, you could never love anyone, legitimately or otherwise.
Your blood, all of it, has turned venom, you spit it, slowly
its beauty amazes, even the victims on the line next...
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 2:33 PM UTC
let me structure you first:
there, now, ready, fly my owl
granting vision logic,
guiding thoughtform fair.
what softness in the earth gives way
to waterway, what forceful gust of air
to final quench of earthy thirst...
such unseen pyschomancy dusts
the wing-stroke of your flight,
and weathers well my musing trust;
you see with ancient zero eye,
and die to my dull interpret edge;
like a certain volcano jumper's
ox of oats and honey you
coat the stone of time to
symbolize my rhyme. hold,
softer, still, i do not need to cut
or pluck or forge with harshness --
your shrill screeching from the cage
of lines here summons more
than Athene's gavel ever forced.
otherwise than writing, you wait...
cradled darkly, unknown priorlife
of avadhuta colors mixing in,
of whalesong faintly felt
like stegosaurus moans,
like city-ships to overreach and then to rot,
forgotten tattva vidya shastra
forgotten sukha,
Megbe, Tirawa, Awen, Asha, Ichor...
Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 5:17 PM UTC
The sterile smell that covers my hands like a snug glove became so familiar. The trip to the intensive care unit at the same **** hospital became repetitive, it was like waking up in the morning and going to school....it became a traditional trip.
each trip was followed with the sorrow, followed a darkness...the coldness and darkness that stretched over the hospital's interior snatched away laughs and cries and shoulders to cry on like the grim reaper. it came in like the plauge and there was just not turning back.
and the worst part? the news, the messengers, were so mototoned. no feeling. no emotion in the delivery of the news. its always a cold hearted "im sorry" with a side of "there gone".
These highly paid messengers whom wear the white coat which should symbolize purity and angel like creatures, cover up their mistakes and sew up the secrets with "we did everything we could". but when they actually accompanied the road to nothingness. When they actually stuck the bullet in the wound, when they actually choked up and messed up-they punched in the wrong numbers to the wrong program causing it to shut down but we are all only human right.
But the real tragedy passing the fact a lifes last grain of sand has fell to the other side of the hour glass, are the mourning humans whom still lurk in the shadows of the same **** gross hospital. Its as each time I enter the doors of the hospital, i enter the realm of death. Each time we enter death is delivered to us and each time we step into that same **** hospital the rain showers of despair and hurt, and confusion.
All that is left now are the memories in-beaded in our minds and rest in the crevices of our hearts. All that lingers are those giggles and smiles and the past. All they left was a footprint..... in our hearts. And now we stand.
Left with the sterile.meek.sound...and the coldness...of the same, **** hospital.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
Daisies in a garden full of weeds
Have you ever seen such an ugly thing?
Daisies may look like flowers
But look how they steal our sunlight
Look how they steal our soil
They are not flowers
They are infiltrators
This is a garden full of weeds
This land belongs to us
Now look at those selfish Daisies
Showing off their ugliness beneath our sunlight
Wasting the nutrients in our soil
Look at how they taint our community
Look at how they defile our home
We are incompatible
Their crimes are intolerable
Are you with us or against us?
Hesitation is treason
This is a garden infested with Daisies
Take them all away
And set them ablaze
They can never steal our sun again
Classify
Symbolize
Dehumanize
Organize
Polarize
And
Prepare
One to six
It can be fixed
Seven to eight
It is too late
Exterminate
And
Deny
Deny
Deny
You could have stopped it if you tried
It was all advertised
For just a limited time
Before it was taken off the shelves
A limited-edition opportunity
To step in and intervene
But the event has already passed
Daisy? What the hell is that?
It was all advertised
For just a limited time
You could have intervened
A limited-edition opportunity
That never happened
It never happened
But it will happen again
And you'll see a product you recognize
In limited-edition
But no, you won't buy
Not until it's taken off the shelves
Then you'll finally miss what's gone
If you have the luxury of a memory
But even then
Will you be believed?
One to six
It can be fixed
Seven to eight
It is too late
Now all you can say
Is
Never Again
Until Next Time
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 7:59 PM UTC
What Light speaketh,
Unto the Darkness?
Whom is more forceful?
Which is more tyrannous?
Must you succumb to Light?
Or fear the Darkness?
Or both?
Must you Succumb to Light?
In order to overcome Darkness?
And if thou dost not fear Darkness?
When why should thee succumb to Light?
Light doth not symbolize good.
Light is as violent as Darkness.
For both are to be feared.
Light to be feared because of its' fickleness.
And Darkness to be feared of its' unknowing.
Pick up thine poison.
Acquire light, and thou art doomed.
Venture into darkness,
And thou art doomed.
Tis true, that the creatures,
Lurk in the shadows.
But the Light dost not,
Have them vanish.
Creatures are not banish'd,
From the Light.
But Darkness makes them unseen.
Spark thine torches,
Look among the creatures.
Yet a torch is Light,
And Light is a fickle being.
Light is easily lost,
Only to find yourself,
Once again set in Darkness.
Darkness... where the creatures roam.
Light... where the creatures are known.
Light doth not make Darkness timid.
But Light shakes below the hand of Darkness.
Light is fragile, yet darkness in itself.
For without Light, You obtain darkness.
Once again, spark thine torch.
Look beyond where the Light canst grasp.
What dost flood thine vision?
Darkness.
Permanent, Light is not.
But Darkness...
O... Darkness...
Thou art eternal.
Overwhelming and omniscient.
The world hath been created amoung Darkness.
Therefore, humanity doomed by its' creator,
To remain in Darkness for its' existence.
And Light never to prevail.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 3:56 PM UTC
Mirror mirror, on the wall
Who’s the most rebellious of them all?
Leader-types?
Jocks?
Cheerleaders? Oh my…
Or is it the band nerds?
Or the kids in the corner getting high?
Nowadays it’s cooler to take the non-conformist rout
But then that becomes conformity,
Not rebelling to any degree
If we are all going against the grain,
What is a non-conformist?
A drinker?
A smoker?
An artist?
A musician?
Somebody trying to be different?
But then people think
Drinker becomes a bad influence.
Smoker is automatically a grimy kid.
Artists are too dramatic.
Musicians symbolize arrogance.
Different becomes attention seeking.
There really are no true rebels until you look at those quiet observers
The kids who refuse to drink,
Smoke,
Act out,
Draw attention to themselves
They become rebellious
But only by not rebelling
So do these things make me a rebel?
Or do they make me Me?
Now do we see the flaws
In our society?
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 12:06 PM UTC
I swear that in another life I was a crow. A bird of black feathers and mystery, cawing at the wind and nesting myself high above civilization. I think crows are beautiful. Beautiful like the blood moon lunar eclipse being the first of the year, beautiful like rain water slapping the windows of a glass house, beautiful like the way veins insist on being pointed out through pale skin, I think beauty is in perspective. When people think of crows, they think of bad luck, evil, and death, these are the convictions that cultural mythology instilled upon us. Poe once wrote the raven to symbolize mournful and never ending remembrance, the bird being a reminder to one's desent into madness, he forgot to mention the magic that these creatures maintain. What spells evil to some is beauty to another. Anything can be beautiful if you look at it the right way and we so often look at things incorrectly. Eyes half opened, blinded by some form of unnatural light, we so often look at things with skewed perspective. We are often unable to bend our reality in order to see something that we dont want to believe in. Why do we look at blackbirds as a symbol of fear and white doves as free and pure? And why is white and pure always somehow perceived as better? Crows may be dark, but make no mistake, they are not hollow. These birds are known to be some of the most intelligent animals on this earth yet we disregard them based on history and how they look, tell me, does this say anything about our society? How we are so easily willing to put aside something because they are not the typical definition of beauty? How often do we not take the time to recognize the charm that lays within difference? Difference is beauty. Charm is mystery. I think that crows are charming. Crows to me, are the four leaf clover, the rabbits foot attached to a key ring, crows manage to bring me a sense of comfort and beauty, I think crows are beautiful. I say that in a past life I was one. Too many times have I been followed by them, hearing there echoes in trees, crows always seem to find a way to come to me, even in my darkness and therefore i choose to percieve them as light. Life is all about perspective. So what most see as ugly, I choose to percieve as beauty. I swear I was a crow in a life before this one. But for now i am a girl. A human. And as for the future? Nevermore.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 6:07 AM UTC
You gave me a red rose
To symbolize your love for me.
You gave me a black rose
To symbolize that you are leaving me.
You went onto someone else
And left me in the past.
So, I am angry and coming for your
Head.
You were not my first mistake,
But you will be my last.
Many people have done this to me.
Now they are skulls locked in my closet.
Their skeletons grew
Because of the roses that were tossed in.
Their skeletons kept
As a reminder to everyone.
And up their femurs
Came the vines.
Round their ankles
Slept tired time.
In their sockets
Napped with hate,
And in the ribcages
Snored the love.
And as I threw
More roses in,
I wondered if loving the bones
Was a sin.
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 8:15 AM UTC