Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Suresh Gupta Jan 25
AM I WHAT I AM
01/25/2019


Am I the image I project
Or, what others perceive
Am I what society has tagged
By my relationship to others
Am I what my deeds profess
Or the actions I committed
Am I just my responsibilities
Or my achievements as well
Am I what I have said
Or what the others hear
In reality, I only exists
As each individual's perception
I AM WHAT I AM

Am I even here
Devon S Aug 2018
It's almost been one year since we began talking,
Since we said, "Hello" for the very first time;
And that is okay because we went out and we had a good thing going,
But on December 6th,
we were split up;

We didn't talk for months on end,
No, not until April 20th;
When you finally realized that I was not going anywhere,
And we both realized that we could no longer go on fighting;

Even after we started talking,
I disappeared for a week,
scaring everyone;
When I got back,
the first thing I did was come looking for you
to apologize for everything that happened;

I put the blame on you,
and we didn't really talk again until July 28th;
When I put something about abortion on my Instagram story,
and I tagged you in it;

You were confused on why I did that,
I was freaking out about your reaction;
Once I explained what it was about,
We then had a four-hour conversation;

It started at 10 pm and ended at 2 am,
The longest we ever talked since December 6th;
And from that moment on,
We became better friends;

A friendship that once was something more,
Something that turned out not to be quite right;
Something that turned out not to work out,
Turned out that we just needed to work things out;

Two people who tried to be something great,
Wanted something different;
Would finally realize later on,
That it would be better if they were
new and improved;
if you can't tell from what this poem is about, it is about my ex and I finally became friends after realizing that they were never meant to be in love with each other.
stefan badham Nov 2017
a wonderful modern world
beneath a non-specific rainbow
snowflakes falling heavily
onto every word
all dissenters
silenced and gagged
re-trained
re-educated
controlled and socially tagged
conditioning is daily
delivered with piety
to make you more acceptable
to a 21st Century society
where you are free
if you never offend
so get into line
or face your end
When Buddha closed his eyes
He did not speak

Bystander tagged him
See what the attitude

The next moment
On opening his eyes
He got glow in his face
Bystander
Got no words to say

Bowed their heads
Genre: Observational
Theme: Wisdom in silence
Lawrence Hall Oct 2018
In the midst of a world of light and love, of song and feast and dance, he could find nothing more interesting to think of than his own prestige.

                        -C. S. Lewis, A Preface to Paradise Lost

Just look into the mirror, and there you are
Could lose a little weight, but there you are
You comb your hair, you brush your teeth, and then
You should always remember to make a face

And laugh

For you are not a sloganed comrade-hat
Nor yet a shadow in a marching mob
A noise, a post, a bumper-stickered oaf
An obedient tool being pushed about

Because

You are not a tagged and labeled identity
But a true child of God: brave, loving, and free
Owlman Dec 2018
When i see a work of art
I always ask " how much?"
But not to know the price.
Prices tagged or hanged on a card
Not interested in values as such.
Every one should think twice
how deep the artist went down
into the depths of the mine of mind.
Colors in suffocating darkness
You endure pain in harshness
You endure to find lost beauty
Knowing it's not your duty
To know the value is a must
How much sanity did it cost?
Napolis Apr 19
Within the
pages and
words of
the books
of our
lives,

our days
are marked
in it's
creases,
and
puppy ear
tagged
pages,

I live

between
the deep
breaths of
your soul,

and the
gentle
touch
of your
lips upon
mine.

when
we first
awake.

and then
every
morning
I remember.

the God
send
memory of
a wink
of an
eye,

from so
many
magical
nights ago.

when you
simply said

"yes you
will be
my wife...)
Sometimes I reminisce about my kid days, sometimes I wish I could go back and be conscious of all the great it was
Well, that was after we escaped the dim days, I’d wake up to a little house with two back yards and adventures awaited us
Me and my lil’ brother that was, we’d fight all day like any siblings
But we tagged along and cooperated too, played games until our eyes needed chillin
We had fun in those woods, dirt bikes, four wheelers, anything with an engine that sounded good
Summertime was the most fun, Fourth of July shenanigans, bein beach bums, winter time sledding and Christmas love
Tried doing things as a family unit as much as possible, going out to dinner with laughing that was unstoppable
Visiting my workaholic/lazy grandpa, wasn’t sure if I’d wear him out or he’d wear me out half the time, and my crazy loving nana
Sitting here older all I can do is think, I appreciate and will never let fade the memories of all my kid days.
Little Bit May 11
Do you love me now
like you loved me then
When we kissed
under a trumpet or
cornucopia of nails

Cos this love song
Is still for you
Cos growing old
With you is cool

Do you love me now
Like you loved me then
When you tagged
That overpass
That doesn’t even
exist anymore

Cos this love song
Is still for you
Cos this love song
Is still for you
jeffrey conyers Aug 2018
Simply, a commentary of the races.
Every minority is comfortable to some perspective in their own skin.
Being label and tagged this for years.

But what we notice?
Whites are fearful of going into being the minority race.
Although power will still be within their hands.

Which?
Is why many still support this redheaded joke of a man?
He reminds many of their own stupidity.
He barely can read simple words written

He mirrors many of them.
Of course, not all cause many whites are extremely smart.

What?
We notice that they have too.
And it kills them is that must honest compete for employment.
Sure, the good friendship connection still exists.

Some know for a fact they got ahead due to it being a family's business.
And truly think they earned their way when you employed by your family.

Only, one race more than others can honestly state with factual reality of truth.
They never really met a black until they were in college.

This what we notice?
Many white officers are quick trigger shooters dealing with black youth.
Although more whites have mouth when confronted.

And all minorities know the lie of defense.
I felt threatened for my life.
It's taught to say.
L DeCypher Jul 3
Definitely defying distant memories of a time well spent on deepening the gaze into reality vs fiction.
Lives lost in the shuffle of pleasantries and social wannabes.
I know what the hell I don't want to understand in this life's dos and don'ts.
Hanging mirrored picture frames mixed with printed wooden Scrabble games.
The minds best outlet for verbal spewage across and in-between these thick painted lines on green plastic grassroots.
And the Stadium is packed full!
Outfitting Batman's infantries while shrouding Robin's hideouts.
Burning bushes know much pain while badges shine at lights out.
Find your passions through these smoking guns are tagged with stain.  F#ck the rules and F#ck yourself bewitching your betrayed.
Handcuffed concrete convicts can't contain who holds the key.  
m olding, Move ing, working parts to  Help The  bl I nded see…,,,...
07/02/2019
L. DeCypher
Obscure word painting about how our reality is relative. This world is your playing field. And how the wise live life between the yard lines. We each hold the keys to our own happiness, so unlock wisely :)
Ishika Aug 2018
Who can tell?
Whether malice has its own purity?
If odor has its own fragrant smell?

Does right wrong right
Or wrong right wrong?
Could darkness have its own light?

What do you know?
Guilt might have its own innocence
For all you know
Humility and modesty
Could just be a show

This is how life is
You either laugh hard
Or you cry in pain
You love too much
Or you die in vain

If you don’t make someone smile
You end up being a bore
If you dress up too guile
You are tagged a *****

You may be very pretty
but deceitful in act
You may be called ****
but are beautiful in fact

In sadness
you’re creative
In happiness
well that is tentative
and yet sans it too
you may appear narrative

If you know too much
you realize how less you knew
If you are too ignorant
you realize that all lies are just few

Humor shames trivialities
Irony is the truth about absurdities
We scorn at all harsh realities
So we smile at its mockeries

Could love really be true?
And hatred absolutely false?

Is sadness a gloom
Covered in joy so sparse
like a dull audience
forced in its applause?

Without a doubt
A truth has a lie hidden
Simply because
The mirror isn’t clear
It hides many flaws
and your aesthetic sin
deep within

If you counted the seconds
and minutes and the hours
Will you still be wasting time?

Or would you still
have to make an orange juice
out of a dainty lime?

What’s rhetoric
if a question has an answer
if silence it’s own message
and guns and bullets
its own power?

What’s the point
If you’re devising a plan
for your future
to become a big man

And you still say
that you don’t know
what might happen tomorrow

That it all looks bleak and dark
And you sit there
not working hard
you crib and worry
and fake a smile
to everyone
you appear
as blithe as a lark

We dwell with glee
In a world where
two extremes meet
Order deals with its chaos
And chaos struggles for order

Everyone fights
for the latter
And to straighten
an imbalanced balance
and dispel a dulcet clatter.
The son of man
Jesus Christ
Headed to river Jordan
True to the prophesy,
To meet John the Baptist.

Opening the sky
Father above
Jesus in
Jordan River
The Holy Sprit
Incarnated in a dove
Were revealed
The 3-in-1 mystery
To  solve.

This as a backdrop,
Carrying replicas of the
Ark of the covenant
On their head,
Putting on
Gold-embroidered
Motely religious robes
Priests go to a nearby river
By the laity
Tagged, flanked
And lead.
In white costumes attired
The laity
Who have dressed to ****
Leave no space
On the road to fill.
The colorful procession
Grabs undivided attention.

Melodies hymns
Ear-and-heart-
Pleasing Music
Of harps and many a drum
An electrifying
Effect is the sum.

History has it
That
Ethiopia has been
Celebrating
Epiphany
Keeping originality
As never before
“Ethiopia raises its
Hands to God!”
Is  witnessed
In Ethiopia’s Epiphany
Magnified manifold.

Reverberates the song
“Headed to River Jordan
The son of man! ”
Ethiopia stands out in marking Epiphany ,true to the Biblical saying Ethiopia stretches its hands out to God.
My  walk  beneath  the  sun
of  a  Saturday  morning  in
the lively  streets  of  Minna
my own darling  birth  town.

Busy  rabble  were  amongst
the  citizens  of  that  hour.
Brig­ht  lovely  sky  with
undefined motions  of  sinless
pidgins sailing  it  and  their  
shadows roaming  the  street  floors.
Free  must  they  be  flapping
thei­r  wings  swiftly  in  the
vastness  of  the  blue.

I  saw  a  lad  in  tired  grey  shirt,
standing by a tree hoping for kindness
from the Sun's rage.
His left  hand  holding  a  cage  
and that object was confining  
three petite birds  for  sale.
Dear  life  caged  and  tagged  
with price  to  be  lifted  with
‘stupid’  earthly  papers.

Colorful  they  were  to  my  seeing
and  to  my  quiet  war  a­s thoughts,
i thought they  are  little  but  then  
i realized  that is to  be normal  size
of  their  specie’s  full  growth.

My  hand, if  thee and  i  are  good  —
with  saving,
we  would had bought  their  freedom.
In  truth  their  freedom  but  not  them­
and  set  them  free  into  freeness where  their wings and chest belong.

Their  freedom  but  not  them,
for  what  Everest­  of  gold  
can in  truth  buy  life?  
None,  aye.

Firstly, I  asked  myself  in  outer  silence
“where  rests  freedom  for ­ the  birds?”
with  same  quietness  i  answered
“their  freedom ­ is  outside  his  cage,
their  confinement  within  it’s  sticks­”.

And  in  reference  to  the  Human -
Enslaved to air and water,
I asked  my  inner  self  secondly “his  confinement  is  the  human —
 heart’s unquenchable  desires?”
and my deeper being uttered:
“like  a  jug  that  house  wants  and  
desires  is  the  heart­,
but  that  jug  as  it  is — is  bottomless  and cursed  to  be
with  never  ending  longings,
created to be  far  from  fulfillment  
with a distance mightier than that of
northern and southern poles on
a planet of infinite spaciousness,
but within arm's length to contentment.

And  I blinked and asked  myself  thirdly
“and  his  freedom  is  for  him  to walk  
to  the  dusk  
of  his  days free  of  encumbrance?”
Heavy  perplexity  boarded
my  ship  of  ­knowledge,
drowning  dead  my  answers and  
I said naught.
Because  the  laws  that  govern the  
world  and  hearts of men are  laws
above  me  and  my  crucifying.

That  very  law  placed  animals below  
the insatiable  hearts  of humans,
yet  humans  grief  when  that
same  law  place  them  be­low
a mightier  hand.
I read  of  the  worries  of  a  noble  
when loosing  his  wealth  to  
forty Arabian  thieves.

This  law  that  we  all  forcefully or  willingly  oblige  to,
like it is lady tyranny or her  
‘frenemy’  — democracy.

This  law  oftentimes had drowned me  
in dip of  melancholy  and  suffocated  
me  asleep with  the  therapy i get from 
Irish  and Scottish  tunes,
Lightening my heaviness
And
giving  me  keys  to  escape the  
unpleasant  season  temporarily –
though  sometimes  be  haunted  in  my
sleeping  dreams  but  w­ith a very lesser
weight and magnitude indeed.

And  voiceless  I  asked  lastly,
addressed  to  the  birds  as­  if – they  are  inside  me
“is  this  your  price  of  being  alive?
a­nd  mine  this  spirit  wearing  
white cotton  woven  fabric  
with  mouth clung  to  barrel  of  softness,
drinking  from  it  not  knowing­ how
drunk  am  I  being  this madman?”

I  don’t  know  how  dru­nk  am  I,
to the spiritual insanity of feeling things  
like  these that  are  shunned  
but nights  ago  In  truth,
i  dreamt  of  a  dying  flower  
and i  magically  offered  my  
life line for  it to  bloom  again.

And so my friend,
After  all  the  questioning, answering –
and  perplexity,
i  passed my fellow caged  earthlings  
silently amongst  hundreds  passers  by,
I,  walking  with  sense  of  ali­enage
because inside  me  is  a  house  with
thoughts and voices non  from  the  
passers  by can  dare build  inside  them  
or  ever  indoor mine with
sense of spiritual awakening!

©Salimsulaiman.el
TRUE STORY
kirk Mar 3
A razor is my nemesis, because the blades do not behave
Gouging cuts into my skin, that is the path they pave
But it is unavoidable, I have become a bathroom slave
To rid myself of excess hair, from a shave that I don't crave

Ever since the birth of man, it goes back many years
A growth around your lip and chin, extending to your ears
It may go down particularly well, among the bents and queers !
I'd rather have a smoother face, to avoid Ducky's and Dears

Why do men want ****** hair, why do they want a beard
Bits of stubble sticking out, a design that's rough and weird
A Goatee isn't very good, it's cattle that's not reared
You wouldn't get tickled or scratched, if beards had not appeared

Okay some guys might look alright, when they are neat and trim
Scruffy ones they just look bad, and some are rather grim
I don't want hairs growing on my legs, or any other limb
Nice smooth skin is my preference, and it's not a passing whim

There is just one problem, something I would love to ditch
Hair removal is a pain, and it's an evolution glitch
When the morning comes along, I have that same old itch
Having to shave is immanent, and a *******

How many ****** shaves, does a man have to endure
Eventually your skin goes dry, from this old daily chore
You get cut far too often, I don't want it anymore
Razor blades no longer work, and that's a shaving flaw

Girls complain about their periods, it must be so frustrating
With all that blood just seeping out, when you are menstruating
You wouldn't like it daily, there is a period of waiting
It only happens once a month, so it's not as irritating

I'd rather shave twelve times a year, without anymore hair traces
No cuts and grazes for a month, in many different places
Unscrupulous razor companies, would have no more hairs and graces
Hairy smiles would be wiped off, from their stupid corporate faces

A close shave does not exist, I think it's a fare bet
That manufactures cut your throat, with electric dry and wet
All the claims of the best, that a man can get
Sharp shavers are a fabrication, and that includes Gillette

The cheaper brands are just as bad, shops own brand or BIC
You may as well tape a knife, to a piece of stick
Are potato peelers any sharper, would they be a valid pick
Would chipped skin be as bad, or just get on your wick

One shave is not sufficient, you have to do it twice
There's always bits left behind, which isn't very nice
I would've tried the No No, an expensive hair device
Razor blades and shavers, have such a high tagged price

It makes me cross and angry, because there is no reward
When buying beauty products, which they say you can afford
Why cant you have a body switch, or a desired level cord
So you can turn of your hair, and sod Wilkinson Sword

Excess hair I do not want, except for on my head
Is stress the cause of going thin, when it begins to shed
Would it not be better, coming of your face instead
Shaving would then be reduced, and not something to dread

Many men go through the curse, of losing it on top
The older that you become, your head hairs for the chop
A full crown is all I want, why take away my mop
I didn't want a bad harvest, by losing half my crop

The only place I wanted it, I've lost my style and flair
Why does a bald patch appear, why does your bonce go bare
Is it my comeuppance, with the creation of a glare
All I want from follicles, is my head full of hair

If you want to have a beard, then that is fare enough
Don't be mistaken for a *****, by looking like a scruff
I don't want a hairy face, or stubble that is rough
Or a weird beard with scraggy parts, or any yuk *** fluff

Some men just let beards grow, and maybe that's just crazy
It's not as though they look sweet, or as pretty as a daisy
Personal hygiene may not count, if they are always lazy
To me it isn't fashionable, it makes you look old and hazy

Who wants to be a yeti, but perhaps it is too late
And wild men roaming in the woods, is evolutions own cruel fate
No matter how much I shave, it's the scratchy bits I hate
Wasted shaves when hair returns, why does it lay in wait

How much has man evolved, how much as man progressed
Personally I think the state of hair, has radically regressed
It's based on my own experience, so perhaps I am obsessed ?
Who wants a hairy monkey, when your naked and undressed ?

There is a smooth advantage, when you are misbehaving
A kiss feels much more sensual, without the crazy paving
This is all that drives me, although it is enslaving
Even with the nice things, I'm not craving for a shaving
Lou Mar 11
The lie is in the mirror and on our screen.
That like button lies to you
Social media is a salesperson
Each photo uploaded is expired meat
Sold as butchers choice.
We are all tagged and complacent on the block
Glee to be valued and chopped.

Every like charges dopamine into a dope-fiends melancholy viens.
I'm high and heart-liked, thus beautiful.

Where's the button to scream?
Tony Anderson Jan 16
Two teams
One on each side of the court
***** lined up on the center line
We stand focused
We stand ready
Waiting for the GO

The Whistle blows
Off we run
Like bullets being shot from a gun
Run to the center
Grab a ball
Then throw

Grab the *****
Throw them about
But do not get tagged by an opponents ball
Or else be called out
Poetic T Feb 9
We are the virtues of natures
                           measurements.
No matter the strength that portray ,
                            we are each but wind.

Captured in a singular episodes
that collects

                                within a series of




cyclone syllables.


              And each is more vocal.
                 causing more destruction with


meanings that was expelled before.



Weep on the condensation that falls,
                 for the breath that collects after
                 will carry you further
      

Than any that fell in subjugation
                               before any verse...

where all wind in an eclipse of motions,
                      also surpassing every falling..

— The End —