"sympathizing" poems
Let's hold out hope for the crippled.
Hope for the crippled?
No thanks, this crip doesn't need your hope.
This crip needs you to stop.
Stop labeling me.
Stop feeling sorry for me.
Stop pitying me and my 'poor life'
Just ******* stop!
No, really, I'm okay. I don't need you.
I don't need you or your miracles.
Don't tell me God works miracles
And to hold out hope
Because maybe one day I'll walk
Or maybe I'll get to see from both eyes
Because God works miracles
But you're too busy fixing what isn't broken that you forget
If I was truly made in his image this crip doesn't need healed.
This crip doesn't need your prayers or miracles.
This crip doesn't need your God or your salvation.
This crip doesn't need your hope.
Poor soul, she's diminished by her disability.
Diminished by my disability?
The only thing I'm diminished by
Is your inability to understand
That before anything else I am human.
I make mistakes and have flaws.
I feel, probably more than most,
And sometimes those feelings get in the way.
I empathize but I am done sympathizing.
You say my wheelchair is a blessing in disguise.
Why can't it just be a blessing?
A blessing that comes with lots of lessons.
Some that I learn the hard way and some that come easy.
But this wheelchair doesn't need a reason
To teach me (or you) a lesson.
Sure, it frustrates me when a wheel breaks or I fall on a broken sidewalk
But it teaches me humility and patience.
And there's no reason to disguise that this wheelchair is a blessing.
So, please take your hope and pity
Your guilt and salvation elsewhere
Because they're defeating the purpose. They're detracting from the point.
I am not diminished by my disability.
I am not to be quieted or pitied
I am not your reason to feel guilty
I am not a burden
I am human.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 1:37 AM UTC
Even if I’m alone now, from our yesterdays,
Today is born sparkling,
Like the day when we first met
But what good is a heart if it keeps on aching,
Spirit away in the stream of thoughts, the answer is unclear, always.
Even if I sink even deeper into the embrace of the sea,
I will remember the light of better days,
The whereabouts of the heart have faded,
The kiln has no flame to possess,
Cinder is what is left of this burnt away past.
Mother Purity has been staned by anger,
Sympathizing with fury is a lost cause,
A widdow without a child who cries for help,
But who will answer but the voices from within ?
At least the ghost of the night carried her to sleep,
At least she doesn't have to die in a dream.
The dream which shattered long ago
~ Umi
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 4:18 PM UTC
She was vengeful.
But against whom could she retribute her vengeance?
The rich guy who ***** her and ruined her life?
The police for harassing her in the name of interrogation?
Lawyers who tormented her and ***** her all over again with the twenty questions?
The inconsiderate jury who were bent on paying their children's school fees?
The lab assistant for lying to the jury that she had absolutely no sign of being ***** and she was making this up only because she got pregnant in the act?
The parents and teachers of the evil vandal who made him that way?
The media who were more interested in making it to the front page rather than sympathizing with her?
The government for taking safety precautions so lightly?
Neighbours who looked her down with contempt?
Or herself for not being strong enough to protect herself.
Whom could she blame?
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 1:34 PM UTC
Some get that way by playing it safe,
memorizing mantras, righteously abiding by rules,
some get there by cutting seams,
lost in purposelessness, partaking of
ether, marijuana, alcohol, or anything
that's buzzy enough,
some find their sweepstakes in curls,
in fantasies, on the internet, or in the aftermath,
some claim the spoils, some gracefully accept
determination, some divorce their wives,
some happily raise their pulse to the heavy metals,
some review albums and cut down the ********
some write love stories for our grandmas,
our moms,
our ex-girlfriends,
some find it in politics, right winging, left winging, chicken winging,
some in bomb threats,
some find it in supremacy,
others in melting pots,
some cheer up over breakroom chitty-chats,
some in **** ***
some in sympathizing with pedophiles trapped in iron lungs,
some when they have hit the bottom rung,
some by rationalizing,
boosting themselves above half-wrongs,
to coast on the half-rights,
some by breaking up,
some by declaring war,
only to get discouraged, yet proud of the scars,
some kids dance to experimental music,
some write blogs about capitalism,
some find it kicking it with bitter vegans,
others while murdering their parents,
but everyone is a winner,
everyone is right,
everyone has earned the paycheck,
the vacation,
the **** wife,
and the key to eternal life.
Dec 16, 2010
Dec 16, 2010 at 8:03 AM UTC
Today was the day.
Thinking how mad could I actually be.
Even thought of the ways I'd do the deed.
I knew exactly how to succeed.
All of this need to be taken from this world.
Runaway.
From the beginning,
I felt abandoned.
My 17-year-old birthmother gave me up.
Oh,
& my birthfather didn't even show up.
12 years later,
God took the only mother I'd ever known.
Abandonment.
I'm writing to the ones who drown in these turbulent waves.
Sympathizing with how suicide seems like the only outlet.
Especially when you sense is the walls closing further in.
Perhaps this is where we must begin.
We're all in pain.
Few of us choose to admit.
There must be people who ask "what's wrong?" & truly listen.
Don't assume you know what we're going through.
Chances are you have NO CLUE.
I told God this was truly my lowest point.
Even asked Him if He could sit by me & eat chips with me.
I believe He did.
The Holy Spirit began to say,
look at Matthew 4:1-11 the devil tempted me too.
Christ said,
I've been there & I didn't eat food for 40 days.
Which is why my Father sent me to save you,
& to show you how much I love you.
This was when all my worries passed away.
My hope is our stories will get better from here.
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 3:20 AM UTC
Who taught thee conflict with the pow’rs of night,
To vanquish satan in the fields of light?
Who strung thy feeble arms with might unknown,
How great thy conquest, and how bright thy crown!
War with each princedom, throne, and pow’r is o’er,
The scene is ended to return no more.
O could my muse thy seat on high behold,
How deckt with laurel, how enrich’d with gold!
O could she hear what praise thine harp employs,
How sweet thine anthems, how divine thy joys!
What heav’nly grandeur should exalt her strain!
What holy raptures in her numbers reign!
To sooth the troubles of the mind to peace,
To still the tumult of life’s tossing seas,
To ease the anguish of the parents heart,
What shall my sympathizing verse impart?
Where is the balm to heal so deep a wound?
Where shall a sov’reign remedy be found?
Look, gracious Spirit, from thine heav’nly bow’r,
And thy full joys into their bosoms pour;
The raging tempest of their grief control,
And spread the dawn of glory through the soul,
To eye the path the saint departed trod,
And trace him to the ***** of his God.
2.7k
Fair-weather front seat
Lookin' at the moonbeams
Solid, sympathizing
The sun on the horizon
Sippin' foreign coffee
Listening to redwood heartbeats
Smoking cigarettes in a black dress
At 430 am, nonetheless.
430 am ocean breeze
Quiet enough to hear a stop sign sneeze
Counting all the bird calls
Staring at the fog walls
Making entities out of mist and light
And thinking about where to crash tonight
Or where to drink-
How arousing is pink?
Pink, plush lips on a long skinny straw
It's amazing how I get anything done at all,
Always thinking about ***
Always thinking about ****
He asked for a smile,
I said, "Whatever you need."
Got some stories I don't care to tell
Got a family I don't know so well
So, which do you trust?
Your love or your lust?
Have no resistance at all
And get kicked around like a rag doll.
My eyes get withdrawals
When I ain't near the stars
My ears and nose start to bleed
When I ain't near the sea
Bi-ped amphibean
Transplant Caribbean
Sittin' here wrongin' wishin
I was belongin'
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 8:43 PM UTC
Conservatives cannot admit
that the White Nationalists were wrong
"But what about Black Lives Matter.
But what about the Alt-Left.
But what about what Fox News said.
But what about what our ******* cartoon of a president said."
Think for yourself.
You are feeling bad for Neo-Nazis.
They killed people.
They have a history of killing people.
They would **** everyone that isn't white.
This country has become disgusting.
A large portion is defending the actions of terrorists.
White Nationalists, ISIS--
They are, literally, the same.
You cannot be peaceful
when it comes to Nazis.
By sympathizing with them,
you are condoning them and creating more.
The only good **** is a dead ****
Be a ******* person,
think for yourself,
recognize true evil
when you see it,
you brainwashed *****
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 12:50 PM UTC
From across the hall, I watched her double
over Coleridge, sympathizing as she looked
up to the thin curtain filtering the street-light
universe past the pane held in hot glue.
The click-heels, car barks, ceaseless L-Train
turnstiles, tipsy choirs in cracked-door taverns,
hinges, keys on carabiners, bus hydraulics,
the wall clock, and her fingers caressing the page.
She loved a soft wind carrying birdsong
through screen doors and dowel chimes.
She used to leave her shoes lace-tangled
by the key rack until she saw glass pollen
sparkling in a caged tulip blossom.
She raised the book and sullenly whispered
the last stanza of Frost at Midnight
into the spine, wondering how anyone
could live away from impressionist-dandelion
forests, children's plastic toys in the front yard,
and church bells at every hour.
I wondered the same thing.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
You were never really there when I was younger.
The divorce set us apart with your constant job sprinkled in.
You were never really there when I was younger.
I had no one to play catch with.
You were never really there when I was younger.
I had no one to watch to run like a man so I learned from the little girls next door.
You were never really there when I was younger.
I looked around and saw my friends with their perfect parents as I sat with my broken parents wondering what it feels like.
You were never really there when I was younger.
Ao I found myself sympathizing with fictional character that either had one parent or didn’t have any at all.
You were never really there when I was younger.
So I thought of myself as half the kid others were.
But,
You were sometimes actually there when I was younger.
When you did see me, you took me to fun places like baseball games and the zoo.
You were sometimes actually there when I was younger.
I found friends to play baseball with and you came to see my games.
You were sometimes there when I was younger.
How badly I run doesn’t change the man I am.
You were sometimes there when I was younger.
Though kids had perfect families, I had two time the family they had.
You were there when I was younger.
I had clung to superheroes without parents like Batman and I had clung to you.
You were there when I was younger.
I was never half the kid.
I am a whole kid with a perfect, broken family.
And you were always there.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
HEARTBEAT OF DELTA STATE
The rain has fallen again,
The streets are isolated,
Everyone is filled with sadness.
Houses and shops have been abandoned,
Villages and towns have been inundated.
Bags and cargoes floats unsteadily,
Cars and buses are deeply buried
deep into the water in a hazy manner.
People, animals, all are transported
by little wooden vessels.
With no idea of when
to take over their properties,
With no idea of where else to go.
The cities, their streets,
houses and cars have being flooded,
Properties, expensive
and extra expensive have been left over.
East Delta had been covered
by the unmerciful ocean.
Precious lives were gone
and more were at stake.
Families and close friends- divided.
Farms with large crops- destroyed.
Hunger and thirsty, hugs my people with sadness,
begging for aid.
Sickness and diseases fill people
with sympathizing outcome.
A land of peace is now a land of disaster,
A land of Labor is now a land of turmoil.
May peace always reign,
May ignorance be neglected,
For the dying heartbeat of Delta.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 3:43 PM UTC
Reading bad poetry,
writing bad poetry,
existing as a subpar slice of
unemotional prose.
I'm a singsong
last-ditch singalong;
ding-dong-ditch me,
***** me out.
Slice me up and
lay me out to dry.
I cut onions:
I don't cry.
You ignore me:
I don't mind.
Remember me
as a sad story and not a person.
It'll be gratifying,
albeit dehumanizing,
patronizing,
but at least you'll be sympathizing
as I'm unsurprisingly capsizing.
Right now I'm realizing
that I wanna be the hungry waves
and not the sinking ship;
the sharp harpoon and not
unfortunate Moby ****
I wanna be the brick
instead of the window pane;
I wanna be the ****** sword
and not the bleeding slain.
So the inferiority complex that's been harrowingly ingrained
inside of my needlessly idle brain
can **** off once again,
because I'm gonna be the poet now,
not the reader, page, nor pen.
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 11:44 PM UTC
When I fingered the thin skin on my left, vein-bulging limb
Where the forearm adheres to the costly little hand
I realized in all my intense ardor for pain
That there in my penitence, self-pity, self-loathe
I am a narcissist.
Laden with self-obsessed sorrow
There is a selfishness in being a dreary,
To feel for oneself,
When others care too much
An aggregation of sympathizing sobs and tears
Too much for an egoist
Who would rather wallow alone
In the orange-tinted hue of twilight turned nightfall
A ray of the luster in all subtle shades,
Can I summon the force to recall
Why I hate myself
Is it not that all despise me for a purpose?
And those who are inept at reasonable loathe
Are marooned in deep shame
That they had degraded themselves for what?
For a felon? Such as myself?
Deep in such sorrow,
Deep in my self-loathe
I have encountered the truth of all fruitless self-regard
I am a narcissist, egoist, one who self-loathes
Who slashes and severs and cannot speak love
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 5:33 PM UTC
we'll sit on the roof of the '69 chevelle,
legs intertwined,
curves and crevices illuminated
by a motel's flickering vacancy sign.
bellies warm with tennessee whiskey,
we'll stargaze, and i'll stop to
constellate our initials in the sky.
the cicadas will hum to us a waltz,
and we'll dance and twirl
and hold one another close.
then, dawn will come,
and a love kindled at dusk
will quickly burn out.
the sickly sweet viscous liquid
in our bowels
will turn to blood,
coughed up,
staining cheap,
thin sheets.
and i'll find myself sympathizing
with the red glow
of that flickering vacancy sign.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 3:44 PM UTC
An obscene, sickly beautiful scene
Met me with a ***** sheen
It dulled the tightness in my chest:
The butterflies when I misstep.
Like the second-guessed ache of paranoia
that left me curled at the foot of the sequoias
waiting still and tense, for your voice to fade.
Never for a moment dropping my charade
as I paraded proudly back inside declaring
my true innocence; I found you unsparing.
You swallowed my word and I found you even
Requesting repetition, so you could believe in
the obvious lies leaking my lips,
and you know what they say: loose lips sink ships.
So when you come to grips,
I’ll still be installing microchips
Inside that open wound of yours.
While you’re hugging porcelain on all fours
I won’t be sympathizing with all the ******
Who leave their lipstick napkins on your lap;
Who fall into your egocentric death trap.
I was never one of those,
To be used and then disposed…
So while you’re trying so hard to make me jealous;
I’ll just tell you your method is overzealous.
You had your chance before;
You’ll have no chances anymore.
You can finally stop trying to request the help of cupid,
I promise you I only ever loved you young and stupid.
Jan 28, 2011
Jan 28, 2011 at 6:34 PM UTC
It is dark and it's raining.
Your beings are enchained but
The Book, The Book,
Your Book is not explaining.
Rain: Is it You crying
from the sky and
smiling and sympathizing
with me?
Or is it You humming
to Taylor Swift and
doing laundry, not hearing
my screams?
Your Book, Your Book
It is misunderstood
God, Your beings are being
oppressed for just being.
It wasn't Your intention then
But now, don't You see?
The powerful use the Book
To have power over the weak!
The Book, The Book
Says your Golden Gates
are closed for me.
For just showing sympathy?
When did it become
a choice between,
The Book, The Book
and humanity?
The Book, The Book
Says You care a lot
And then it says
you don't care at all.
Which creature to love
and which to not.
To help you decide,
Is there a Lucky Draw?
Why will you let,
those who repeat
"The Book, The Book",
easily off the hook?
But those who dare to think,
judge between bad and good
are the ones who get
The Look, The Look?
And if behind those Golden Gates
Are bad people chanting
"The Book, The Book"
I'm not sure I want to enter.
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 6:43 AM UTC
Sun
Beaming of passion’s warmth
The curtain of light, leaving its impression
Giving life and energy to the earth
Enveloping the land in its tenderness
Charity of enthusiasm to the seamless sky
Seeming to fond away from darkness
Darkness, fills as the clouds cry
Rain
Pattering of peace’s wave
The drapery of liquid crystals, washing away pain
Sympathizing with unfathomable ache
Engulfing the land in its serenity
Subject of ambedo
Calming as there is tranquility
Lightens and dazzles, ready for photo
Sun and Rain
Together to make the majestic
Yin and Yang
Variety of hues, washing the skies with aesthetic
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 8:36 PM UTC
I laughed as the gift receipt fell to the floor,
The one for the gift I bought before you ended us.
You no longer deserve the chance
To return this last piece of me,
Not after how you tore at my heart.
You cannot trade this in for something more fitting,
As you did with me,
As you did with us.
I want you to see this everyday
And to know what you’ve given up.
I tear it up and throw it out,
Hating and sympathizing with those shred of paper.
They’ve done far less than I to destroy us,
But I far less than you.
Or was it me all along?
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC
skinny.
I have trouble sympathizing
and empathizing
and condoling
those who open up their dark secrets
when it comes alight
that their secret is of the weighted, edible variety.
You say you struggled with weight
you couldn't keep it on
barely swallow a bite
you got so sick
and it was so bad
---
I must refrain,
as you speak,
from bowing down,
from praising you,
from questioning how you achieved
such beautiful strength
to become so skinny.
Your nightmare is my fantasy
your dark memory
is my desired future
Your shame
is my pride
Your wicked sorrow of the events
is glory in my eyes.
But I won't say that
no
I can't.
can't tell you how I envy
something that hurt you so,
but you can be sure
I'll be thinking it
feeling it
breathing it
forever.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 2:22 PM UTC
A megaphone is a device
Used to amplify sound, most commonly speech
Into the ears of the masses gathered around
Usually in an act of protest.
It's an electrically powered portable amplifier
But I don't possess one.
Not yet, anyway. But I know someone who does.
Someone who's shouts of frustration cause pity and anger at the same time.
The person I'm living with, isn't that divine.
I'm stuck between sympathizing and bewildering blind fury
Her condition is not through fault of her own but surely
She can stop taking her frustrations and misplaced aggression out on me.
I wish I knew how to stop her pain, stop her anger.
I wish I could do that without it destroying me.
And, mother I doubt you'll read this but on the off chance that you do.
I love you. But I don't know what else that I can do.
I'm learning to carry a house hold on my shoulders, and I can't do that if you keep taking crowbars to my knees.
But, I fear it might be too late that that fact is what you'll see.
Jul 27, 2021
Jul 27, 2021 at 12:51 AM UTC
A torrential, tranquil down pour from the heavens is the world sympathizing with you through Gods physical tears,
A most comforting and peaceful place to be, while he holds you in your promising future of happiness.
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
We did forget the peace…
It lays in dust, abandoned.
The drums of war don’t cease
The mind of world malfunctioned.
We have destroyed the peace,
The peace is trampled down,
The sanity is labelled “Vice”,
The hope in blood has drown.
We have betrayed the peace,
Replacing words with slogans,
Hysterics and war-cries increase,
As diplomats replaced with morons.
***
The peace is dying agonizing
Losing count of its endless sores
On hands of orphan sympathizing —
The crippled son of senseless wars.
— ☙ AlMakPoetry ❧—
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 6:48 PM UTC
I've heard and read this story over a thousand times.
Two kids at the age of 14 falling in love and calling each other "mine."
Two years later and things aren't set so well.
What felt like heaven morphed into a darker hell.
"How silly of these two to believe in young love.
How ignorant of the girl to put the boy above."
I repeat those words as I continue to read.
Sympathizing what the boy wanted and what the girl felt she needs.
I've since then fell in and out of him.
I lived the story, my mind now dim.
We believed in young love.
I put him above.
I read the same book I read before.
Sympathy became empathy, and I read more.
Every bit of the story sounds familiar.
Reaching the ending drives me crazier.
They always say an old relationship has the same ending.
Rusty trust, salty tears, and repenting.
They say an old love is like rereading the same book.
You know what happens, yet you're still hooked.
"Stop going back, it ends the same, trust me."
But I've always been a fan of painful tragedies.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 1:45 AM UTC
I hold you in my palm
The star tells all
How grateful I would have been if you were here
Here to share my memories, and my misfortune.
As another one leaves
A beautiful tree disappears into the atmosphere
And I'm left to hold your presence,
Like a balloon, floating forever.
Sympathizing with the safety
Resonating from the bones of the weak
Dreading the events
Everyone feels a hole
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 2:53 AM UTC
Countless cases of fraudulent sympathy
Sympathizing for one while one doesn't truly care
A facade
Dropping the veil from its tethered place on the stage of eternity
Unmasking the darkest truth there is to one
Our soul
Our heart
Stuck in reverie
Musing our souls as one
This cannot be
We shall remain independent of one another
Unable to see true self worth in only ourself while we so desperately cling to others
Humility
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 8:09 AM UTC