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"tendency" poems
Municipal Gum was written by Oodjeroo Noonecaal. Municipal Gum is about the changes in society and the tendency of people to want to control everything. Oodjeroo uses various techniques to convey this idea. At the beginning of the poem Oodjeroo is addressing the tree. This immediately creates empathy for both the tree and her people. By the last line she has emphasised this with the pronoun “us” to show that they suffer a similar fate. This poem expresses how life in Australia has changes especially for Aboriginal people. In the first half of the poem Oodjeroo is talking about how life was for her and others. It explores the changes in society and the displacement of the Aboriginal people from their land. “Whose head hung…Its hopelessness”, the author uses this as further re-iteration of the immorality of the situation and by the use of analogy comparing the tree to her people to further emphasise the shame and lack control of that the Europeans have inflicted upon her and the environment. Oodjeroo uses extended metaphor technique in the very first line of the poem ‘Hard bitumen around your feet’. This means that the gumtree has been placed in the city scape where it is suppressed and not allowed to spread out and be unique in its own way. This is clear and immanently direct link to the pain and suffering endured by the Aborigines post European settlement. Oodjeroo uses vivid language to present these ideas. For example the use of the word castrated is very effective. The connotation of the word is very demeaning. With castration often comes a sense of a loss of pride and power. The word castration is symbolic of how Oodjeroo feels the European have treated Aboriginal people and the environment. Castration also refers to the fact that what is done is done. Nothing can undo what they did and the damaged they have caused. Other symbolism includes the title “Municipal Gum”, municipal meaning community, implies that the gumtree belongs to the community. One of the vast differences between European and Aboriginal law is that Aboriginal people did not believe in the ownership of land or of animals and plants. Municipal Gum is a reference to the Europeans assumptions that everything is theirs to own and control. The rhetorical question, “O fellow citizen, What have they done to us?” is the conclusion of the implications that have been made throughout the poem. Oodjeroo, is advocating for her people and all things wronged by the controlling behaviour of the Europeans. Rhetorical questions are used to provoke thought and to stimulate a pre-determined response. “What have they done to us?” They have “castrated, broken… strapped and buckled” and ultimately changed things to a point that they cannot be fixed. In conclusion, Municipal Gum is a poem about the constrictions and change that the European invaders forced upon the Aboriginal community and the environment she believes that the Europeans have deemed themselves ever powerful and practice their power in a manner that is immoral.
0
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 7:47 AM UTC
Municipal Gum
Municipal Gum was written by Oodjeroo Noonecaal. Municipal Gum is about the changes in society and the tendency of people to want to control everything. Oodjeroo uses various techniques to convey this idea. At the beginning of the poem Oodjeroo is addressing the tree. This immediately creates empathy for both the tree and her people. By the last line she has emphasised this with the pronoun “us” to show that they suffer a similar fate. This poem expresses how life in Australia has changes especially for Aboriginal people. In the first half of the poem Oodjeroo is talking about how life was for her and others. It explores the changes in society and the displacement of the Aboriginal people from their land. “Whose head hung…Its hopelessness”, the author uses this as further re-iteration of the immorality of the situation and by the use of analogy comparing the tree to her people to further emphasise the shame and lack control of that the Europeans have inflicted upon her and the environment. Oodjeroo uses extended metaphor technique in the very first line of the poem ‘Hard bitumen around your feet’. This means that the gumtree has been placed in the city scape where it is suppressed and not allowed to spread out and be unique in its own way. This is clear and immanently direct link to the pain and suffering endured by the Aborigines post European settlement. Oodjeroo uses vivid language to present these ideas. For example the use of the word castrated is very effective. The connotation of the word is very demeaning. With castration often comes a sense of a loss of pride and power. The word castration is symbolic of how Oodjeroo feels the European have treated Aboriginal people and the environment. Castration also refers to the fact that what is done is done. Nothing can undo what they did and the damaged they have caused. Other symbolism includes the title “Municipal Gum”, municipal meaning community, implies that the gumtree belongs to the community. One of the vast differences between European and Aboriginal law is that Aboriginal people did not believe in the ownership of land or of animals and plants. Municipal Gum is a reference to the Europeans assumptions that everything is theirs to own and control. The rhetorical question, “O fellow citizen, What have they done to us?” is the conclusion of the implications that have been made throughout the poem. Oodjeroo, is advocating for her people and all things wronged by the controlling behaviour of the Europeans. Rhetorical questions are used to provoke thought and to stimulate a pre-determined response. “What have they done to us?” They have “castrated, broken… strapped and buckled” and ultimately changed things to a point that they cannot be fixed. In conclusion, Municipal Gum is a poem about the constrictions and change that the European invaders forced upon the Aboriginal community and the environment she believes that the Europeans have deemed themselves ever powerful and practice their power in a manner that is immoral.
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9
I thought I forgot you I thought I long had you buried Deep in my memory. I thought you could no longer haunt me Like you used to do so often. I thought I got over you Until your eyes met mine today, Once or twice at most and that was about it. I couldn't look at you, I couldn't look at you without bursting into tears, So I burst into laughter instead. And I suppose that you saw through my fake act. Anyway... You were there in your corner, There in your pedestal, There in your elegance Drawing something dangerously beautiful And you were beautifully dangerous. And I, I could only watch you from a distance And learn to admire you Without touching you, Without kissing you, Or ******* you. We exchanged a conversation About random things You know, like How it took me about an hour To take a proper picture of the cat you gave me, How it tragically died, How I didn't cry when it died... But I actually did cry when it died... You looked all right, seriously. There in your peaceful world That I no longer was part of. There in your artistic mind, There in your capacity to forget, There in your tendency to break promises, There in the awful effect you always have on me. So you said goodbye Because you had something to go back to. I said goodbye Even though I had nothing to go back to. We parted ways once again, Me with your drawing pencil in my bag And you, you my dear, with a piece of me Inside your pocket. I remember you once said forever, but you only lied. I went home, I went home and cried. -- Eleanor
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Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
A Drawing Pencil And A Piece Of Me
I thought I forgot you I thought I long had you buried Deep in my memory. I thought you could no longer haunt me Like you used to do so often. I thought I got over you Until your eyes met mine today, Once or twice at most and that was about it. I couldn't look at you, I couldn't look at you without bursting into tears, So I burst into laughter instead. And I suppose that you saw through my fake act. Anyway... You were there in your corner, There in your pedestal, There in your elegance Drawing something dangerously beautiful And you were beautifully dangerous. And I, I could only watch you from a distance And learn to admire you Without touching you, Without kissing you, Or ******* you. We exchanged a conversation About random things You know, like How it took me about an hour To take a proper picture of the cat you gave me, How it tragically died, How I didn't cry when it died... But I actually did cry when it died... You looked all right, seriously. There in your peaceful world That I no longer was part of. There in your artistic mind, There in your capacity to forget, There in your tendency to break promises, There in the awful effect you always have on me. So you said goodbye Because you had something to go back to. I said goodbye Even though I had nothing to go back to. We parted ways once again, Me with your drawing pencil in my bag And you, you my dear, with a piece of me Inside your pocket. I remember you once said forever, but you only lied. I went home, I went home and cried. -- Eleanor
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51
I wipe marker off the board, and I have a painful tendency of quickly growing bored. I can't erase the ink-spots lingering in high-up corners; to spare the self-defeat, I teach myself how to ignore them. Ignore the marks, and stains, and pains pretend I'm wiped clean, all the same with little left to lose or gain: I leave them; growth is self-restraint. Perfection is a non-existent notion, so they say; yet, unobtainability is all I can create. For in my mind, these false ideals make tame desires stray, and self-destructive pleasure is my antidote to pain. I think I'm like a little plant of stunted growth, just seeds to start, my plantpot made from breaking hearts: before I grow, I say I can't.
0
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 1:12 PM UTC
eraser
I will regret this in the morning but I will do it anyway my impulsivity often overpowers my conscience yet I am almost always fully aware of the decisions I make and their consequences I am not exactly mentally stable but I am sane enough to know right from wrong yesterday from today love from lust although sometimes I mix them up I have a tendency to lunge at any pair of arms that open for me my mind and body often disagree my body saying yes to eager hands my mind saying no constantly looking towards my heart thinking how stupid one must be to fall repeatedly get hurt every single time and still manage to do the same over and over again I wonder how many times I will have to hit the ground in order to learn to stop falling face first? I often say things that should be left unsaid I often do things that should not be done sleep in beds unfamiliar make believe love to strangers get to know people who will not remember me tomorrow I am gone as quickly as the hangover I can be washed off the tongue just as quickly as the liquor I often believe I am capable of inciting change I kiss temporary lips with permanence hoping that I can train them to stay I love temporary people with permanence hoping that I can train them not to leave and when they do I claim to have seen it coming I am incapable of forgetting a scrapbook memory of skin and heartbeat of touch and moments I know not to look directly into eyes for they can be blinding and I still do it anyway I know of the risks that shouldn't be taken well aware of their consequences and I still take them anyway you could say it is my own fault for the way that things continue to turn out but I can make no promise of apology instead I will live momentarily **** up intentionally love recklessly fall unguarded break enough times to learn how to put myself back together crash into concrete enough times to learn how to shift a crooked smile into something worth seeing I have been told that a life lived in fear is hardly a life lived at all so I intend to live every second like it is the last one I will have I will write each night as it happens narrate my own stories and hope they turn out okay I will regret this in the morning but I will do it anyway.
0
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
I Will Regret This In The Morning
I will regret this in the morning but I will do it anyway my impulsivity often overpowers my conscience yet I am almost always fully aware of the decisions I make and their consequences I am not exactly mentally stable but I am sane enough to know right from wrong yesterday from today love from lust although sometimes I mix them up I have a tendency to lunge at any pair of arms that open for me my mind and body often disagree my body saying yes to eager hands my mind saying no constantly looking towards my heart thinking how stupid one must be to fall repeatedly get hurt every single time and still manage to do the same over and over again I wonder how many times I will have to hit the ground in order to learn to stop falling face first? I often say things that should be left unsaid I often do things that should not be done sleep in beds unfamiliar make believe love to strangers get to know people who will not remember me tomorrow I am gone as quickly as the hangover I can be washed off the tongue just as quickly as the liquor I often believe I am capable of inciting change I kiss temporary lips with permanence hoping that I can train them to stay I love temporary people with permanence hoping that I can train them not to leave and when they do I claim to have seen it coming I am incapable of forgetting a scrapbook memory of skin and heartbeat of touch and moments I know not to look directly into eyes for they can be blinding and I still do it anyway I know of the risks that shouldn't be taken well aware of their consequences and I still take them anyway you could say it is my own fault for the way that things continue to turn out but I can make no promise of apology instead I will live momentarily **** up intentionally love recklessly fall unguarded break enough times to learn how to put myself back together crash into concrete enough times to learn how to shift a crooked smile into something worth seeing I have been told that a life lived in fear is hardly a life lived at all so I intend to live every second like it is the last one I will have I will write each night as it happens narrate my own stories and hope they turn out okay I will regret this in the morning but I will do it anyway.
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76
in complete melodies the frequencies i hear can not be contained by anything love is drifting through the hills and you are home to its trills she dreams of light, the fire bright and full of crystal skulls and eyeballs dozens of monuments are built just to mark the moments when we could have said i'm sorry merge with the mountains find the source of fountains shine the diamond compass if that's what you are really here for broken dams are our business feed the swans their luminescent lunch-boxes duck for cover, its a wonder that we are all together here that's clearly redundant the tendency to dream is the most important human faculty its a tragedy that the lack of nuclear power showers the atomic world in rainbows as forlorn teenagers in the ice-age of America govern our equipment from their parent's basements and carouse with comfort upon chairs, cushions and couches a million times the victory a million miles of rope to weave a million are the paths to god and a million more are the souls who've learned to cope with tragedy i come cherishing and bearing gifts figures of speech are my playthings i am furniture remodeled daily and intuitively placed around your home the finer things in life are free so see me there upon your television set i am electromagnetic static within the black and white of advertisements i am figures of forgotten speech so record the unwatched programs in your mind’s virtual memory the hard drive of work and play creates hundreds of new retirees each day hundreds of haunted expatriates knuckle-headed people that couldn't tread lightly even if they wanted to so will you please untie me and remove these binds and chains it's time to free the lover from the psyche for that is all she wrote i am a silent p i am a violet apogee i am a cosmic minority i am a message in your tea leaves but if you stand too long in my shoes you’ll likely drown in solitude
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Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 2:34 PM UTC
a violet apogee
in complete melodies the frequencies i hear can not be contained by anything love is drifting through the hills and you are home to its trills she dreams of light, the fire bright and full of crystal skulls and eyeballs dozens of monuments are built just to mark the moments when we could have said i'm sorry merge with the mountains find the source of fountains shine the diamond compass if that's what you are really here for broken dams are our business feed the swans their luminescent lunch-boxes duck for cover, its a wonder that we are all together here that's clearly redundant the tendency to dream is the most important human faculty its a tragedy that the lack of nuclear power showers the atomic world in rainbows as forlorn teenagers in the ice-age of America govern our equipment from their parent's basements and carouse with comfort upon chairs, cushions and couches a million times the victory a million miles of rope to weave a million are the paths to god and a million more are the souls who've learned to cope with tragedy i come cherishing and bearing gifts figures of speech are my playthings i am furniture remodeled daily and intuitively placed around your home the finer things in life are free so see me there upon your television set i am electromagnetic static within the black and white of advertisements i am figures of forgotten speech so record the unwatched programs in your mind’s virtual memory the hard drive of work and play creates hundreds of new retirees each day hundreds of haunted expatriates knuckle-headed people that couldn't tread lightly even if they wanted to so will you please untie me and remove these binds and chains it's time to free the lover from the psyche for that is all she wrote i am a silent p i am a violet apogee i am a cosmic minority i am a message in your tea leaves but if you stand too long in my shoes you’ll likely drown in solitude
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57
The Victoria plum-tree that we planted this year Is now full of blossom that looks lovely from here The creamy white flowers and the brightest green leaves Makes beautiful colour as Springtime relieves. The garden of Winter, this year so wet Does blossom herald a ‘best Summer yet.’ It’s quite true of course that village life so snug Can have a tendency to make one feel smug But for years our’s has struggled, it now has no shops And a pub that’s near closure though it still sells the ‘hops.’ We don’t take it lightly the community here For we know we could lose it which would cost us all dear. It’s not really the money though the costs would be great But there’d be no Village Hall and no Summer Fete No chats with our friends over stiles by the field Nor any more eggs from the local chicks yield. We don’t take it lightly the community here And we will fight to keep it which will cost us all dear. ©JRW2014
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Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 2:37 PM UTC
A VILLAGE
No thoughts, concerns, hesitations. Worries can wait. Happiness shouldn't. Despite how fleeting it may turn out to be. I'm happy with him. Happy enough to forget about the clouds that have a tendency to settle into the snug horizon. He's like a red balloon that keeps me looking up. Distracted from all the cracks in the pavement that make me trip. Oblivious to the wavering skies. Focused solely on keeping my eyes on patterns of movements. Memorizing this new thing. Piloting something unknown. Let's refrain from using maps that lead down past paths. I'll use my sense of adventure to navigate my way. Illuminate the trails with the colors of your mind. If I get lost, I'll anchor down in your arms. Clutching each of these moments with a ferocity that most will never understand. Let them question why I'm staring at reflections of light through a bit of plastic. They'll never know that you gave me rainbows. All the more reason to look at the bright-side.
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Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 4:26 PM UTC
Light Defractor
I start to answer her question, She seems taken aback. I rattle off my list. “Witty comments, An easy found laughter… I like competitiveness That’s wraps itself around playfulness, Like I want to wrap myself around His big found epiphanies. Symphony of intellectual connecting’s and Good intuition. A quick reaction time, helping you step away Before **** has had time to hit the fan. Eagerness to help other human beings… Taking advantages of opportunities instead of people Charisma that is unselfish in its tendency to be noticed. Awareness of one’s self. a knack for insightful observing.” These a list of things I find attractive But yes he also has a nice jaw line It traces lovely underneath a finger tip But it’s a faraway line on a map That has eloquently plotted out his most beautiful parts It’s faded and dim in comparison to the additional obvious existing’s It is so far from those parts of him I find to be most beautiful That I hardly understand how out of all of it That was the only thing you really responded to. The only part of the map you related enough to To point to and say I have been there.
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Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 2:37 AM UTC
Friendship should find
I've walked the beaten path Sinned in the ways of every religion But the only salvation I'm looking for Is in the smiles I'm able to place on your face So when you read my text Listen to the way I'm telling you I like you Listen to the message in the complex smiles The kissy faces That seem to be endless You can't call this puppy love This is the way you were meant to be loved So baby let me make you happy I'm not asking for the physicality of a relationship I'm asking to put this band on your finger Look in the mirror See my complete reflection Because this mirror is your eyes Baby let me make happy There's nothing I'd rather do Honestly you're on my mind I've only talked to you on occasion I don't don't want to send coded messages In the texts that make you smile and want me I want to tell you straight up Baby I like you I'm not innocent I'm not expecting you to be I'm just asking you to be mine Let me make you happy the only way I know Let me be the sculptor Plaster smiles on your frowning face Strip the clothes from your mannequin figure Let me make you happy In and out of the bed I'm only asking for a chance Baby let me make you happy I promise you'll never be alone Even if I'm seventeen hours away My heart is in the pillow you hold tight My cologne is in the sheets you wrap yourself in You can even wear my clothes Go insane and let me walk in On you making out with a pillow dressed like me I'll smile and I promise I'll love you the way that pillow never could Let me make you happy The way the other guys failed to When they ******* up the chance you blessed them with I promise baby I'll never hurt you My shoes are in the closet They're not going anywhere My suitcases are unpacked and laying in the dump Three states away The distance you wanted in the first place Between me and my second love You know I had a tendency of packing up Leaving in the middle of the night When your slumbering hand wandered on my side of the bed Looking for the warmth of my skin But Baby I promise my walking days are over My running shoes are too old They don't fit anymore Let me make you happy the way you deserve I understand if you don't want to do it I'm not going to cliche it up I'm not going to beg I'm just going to tell you I like you Ask you for only one thing in this relationship Let me make you happy It's not much but let me make it my sole purpose in life I don't need a god or gods and goddesses All I need is the heart in your chest To be my altar To be where I tithe my sins away To give praise to the heart that saved me Let me make you happy I'm not a complete ****** like the rest of them
0
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC
Let Me Make You Happy
I've walked the beaten path Sinned in the ways of every religion But the only salvation I'm looking for Is in the smiles I'm able to place on your face So when you read my text Listen to the way I'm telling you I like you Listen to the message in the complex smiles The kissy faces That seem to be endless You can't call this puppy love This is the way you were meant to be loved So baby let me make you happy I'm not asking for the physicality of a relationship I'm asking to put this band on your finger Look in the mirror See my complete reflection Because this mirror is your eyes Baby let me make happy There's nothing I'd rather do Honestly you're on my mind I've only talked to you on occasion I don't don't want to send coded messages In the texts that make you smile and want me I want to tell you straight up Baby I like you I'm not innocent I'm not expecting you to be I'm just asking you to be mine Let me make you happy the only way I know Let me be the sculptor Plaster smiles on your frowning face Strip the clothes from your mannequin figure Let me make you happy In and out of the bed I'm only asking for a chance Baby let me make you happy I promise you'll never be alone Even if I'm seventeen hours away My heart is in the pillow you hold tight My cologne is in the sheets you wrap yourself in You can even wear my clothes Go insane and let me walk in On you making out with a pillow dressed like me I'll smile and I promise I'll love you the way that pillow never could Let me make you happy The way the other guys failed to When they ******* up the chance you blessed them with I promise baby I'll never hurt you My shoes are in the closet They're not going anywhere My suitcases are unpacked and laying in the dump Three states away The distance you wanted in the first place Between me and my second love You know I had a tendency of packing up Leaving in the middle of the night When your slumbering hand wandered on my side of the bed Looking for the warmth of my skin But Baby I promise my walking days are over My running shoes are too old They don't fit anymore Let me make you happy the way you deserve I understand if you don't want to do it I'm not going to cliche it up I'm not going to beg I'm just going to tell you I like you Ask you for only one thing in this relationship Let me make you happy It's not much but let me make it my sole purpose in life I don't need a god or gods and goddesses All I need is the heart in your chest To be my altar To be where I tithe my sins away To give praise to the heart that saved me Let me make you happy I'm not a complete ****** like the rest of them
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79
It is in my blood I can feel its presence When it’s on the verge To emit a surge, every time my heart beats An impulse, Scurrying it’s way through the crevasses of my brain. Tainting the walls of grey matter with a tendency for unpredictability, Out of my reach. I hate it I don’t want it I never asked for this I can’t slow my mind down Thoughts so fast, hit me with whiplash It’s insanity. No. I’m not insane I can’t be I’m rationale I think about how I think about things, Like it’s a cycle that never stops.. Which I guess could be my downfall My vision says it all When thoughts travel my mind In dark tunnels at times My eyes blind to the surroundings Tunnel vision that make you claustrophobic; You feel trapped When all you see at the end of the tunnel, Is the darkness of insanity But.. I’m rationale I acknowledge I have a tendency to be blind to my surroundings, How can I be blind if I can clearly see? Is life objective or subjective? I just want to understand-- You're stupidWhat was that? Felt like a surge, on the attack An impulse That voice That’s it. Unpredictability That lies, In my brain waiting to be brought to the surface With the surge of an impulse. It’s the insanity that taints me, From seeing what really is I’m not stupid, I’m a learner. Granted with the gift of analysis, But darkened by the cruel nature of impulse To taint my minds innocence I'm not scared to think about it anymore I am insane, because it’s what you make of it. Insanity grants me with the gift of perspective, Throwing a million different ones my way Ones that are positive and ones that are new Traveling at hundreds of miles And this even includes All the negative perspectives as well At the times when I don’t want to hear them. Insanity must be embraced and never repressed. Repression tells you no don’t do that, it’s wrong. When insanity isn’t embraced, it is feared. When something that’s inevitable is feared You’re no longer insane, You’ve completely lost it.
0
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 2:25 AM UTC
Misjudged Insanity
It is in my blood I can feel its presence When it’s on the verge To emit a surge, every time my heart beats An impulse, Scurrying it’s way through the crevasses of my brain. Tainting the walls of grey matter with a tendency for unpredictability, Out of my reach. I hate it I don’t want it I never asked for this I can’t slow my mind down Thoughts so fast, hit me with whiplash It’s insanity. No. I’m not insane I can’t be I’m rationale I think about how I think about things, Like it’s a cycle that never stops.. Which I guess could be my downfall My vision says it all When thoughts travel my mind In dark tunnels at times My eyes blind to the surroundings Tunnel vision that make you claustrophobic; You feel trapped When all you see at the end of the tunnel, Is the darkness of insanity But.. I’m rationale I acknowledge I have a tendency to be blind to my surroundings, How can I be blind if I can clearly see? Is life objective or subjective? I just want to understand-- You're stupidWhat was that? Felt like a surge, on the attack An impulse That voice That’s it. Unpredictability That lies, In my brain waiting to be brought to the surface With the surge of an impulse. It’s the insanity that taints me, From seeing what really is I’m not stupid, I’m a learner. Granted with the gift of analysis, But darkened by the cruel nature of impulse To taint my minds innocence I'm not scared to think about it anymore I am insane, because it’s what you make of it. Insanity grants me with the gift of perspective, Throwing a million different ones my way Ones that are positive and ones that are new Traveling at hundreds of miles And this even includes All the negative perspectives as well At the times when I don’t want to hear them. Insanity must be embraced and never repressed. Repression tells you no don’t do that, it’s wrong. When insanity isn’t embraced, it is feared. When something that’s inevitable is feared You’re no longer insane, You’ve completely lost it.
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66
I log into the network of my self-esteem, To see the hearts and the wows and the laughs flooding in. A simple 'like' wouldn’t cut it anymore ‘Likes’ were so 2010, even 2010 was bored. ‘Cause that’s the zeitgeist of the age, you see, A tendency to wear hearts on sleeves. Loves and kisses are a dime a dozen, With a million friends and followers double. National debates and social justice petitions, Real crises, distorted renditions. High definition photos of disaster zones Flash up against cat videos on every smart phone. Snapchat filters do not lie, Just tell a story of hours gone by; Selecting the perfect background, the ideal shade To express love on the dozen’th date. But that’s the zeitgeist of the century, A tendency to wear hearts on sleeves. To document in minute detail, with extensive pictorial evidence Clockwork days of humdrum nonchalance. And perhaps the generation that came before Would call it vanity, vainglory, or something more. But it ain’t like they were without their sins, We didn’t invent tabloid columnists. And now that we are at the end, Let me sign off with this request: Like, comment, and share your love Let your heart fall out of your shirt cuff.
0
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 1:53 AM UTC
A Tendency to Wear Hearts on Sleeves
One thread came loose with alcoholism at a very young age. She recovered. She forgot and proceeded. One thread was yanked loose by a growing tendency to self sabotage. She clawed her way out of the spiral. One thread pulled at others when she learnt she didn’t need alcohol to have a good time. She felt deprived by self-restraint. So she slightly caved. One thread burned along with her personality when she became a stoner again. She was suffocated yet high. One thread was singed by **** She fell back into her ***** habits. She found herself here, but not quite present. She became dependant. As she flooded her body parts with superficial happiness, just a quick release, her mouth grew dry. Then the peeling skin on her stained lips began to stick together and she regressed into a still and faded silence. In the end, she was in shreds and blissfully unaware, alone with nothing but one solitary thread left to grasp at.
0
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 7:30 PM UTC
Shreds of She
escapism the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, especially by seeking entertainment or engaging in fantasy. Hello I'm just a un pretty face in an ugly place I can pretend with the best of them I love to paint pictures that make no sense except inside my head. on canvas? they are just literally uncoordinated twitchiness a need to put colour back into a world of Black and White I like to write stories the antagonist being just someone who lost, the heroine fleeing from a simple world so complicated *it's hard to cast two beings that are so ill fated* and so the story goes That poetry saved me I can't tell it for truth It makes a difference I suppose But honestly? I wake at the crack of dawn I yell at the dog for barking I take a minute for myself Then wake the kids it's starting Getting ready for  another day is like petting a lion begging food as a stray I collect the mail sort the bills pretend that money is an option, not a price then sell myself to another for a day so nice Feed, clean, wash make sure no one is missed How was your day dear? Well, it's like this as they wander away to their own adventures and I'm left to my own devices eventually To paint a picture Write a book Or expel my life's pleasures into poetry and all I really hear is What do you mean, is that about me? Umm no, it's about me... And tomorrow I'll wake up to do it all again Hello I'm Helen
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Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 4:32 AM UTC
let me introduce myself
Procrastination will be the ruin of me if this cocktail of caffeine, nicotine and time doesn’t **** me first. Procrastination is my most toxic trait apart from a tendency to joke about things I shouldn’t. Procrastination is my favourite pastime How else could I live for 29 years with nothing to show for it? Procrastination is comfortable like a set of pyjamas but sometimes you’ve got to get dressed. Procrastination is sitting still watching the world spin without you and saying you’ll catch up later. But later is never now.
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Nov 16, 2019
Nov 16, 2019 at 3:45 PM UTC
Procrastination
she asks at last, is this one for me “of course it is, was waiting for visualizing the Oh, when I heard you stumbled into it” she then confesses, she has a “tendency to stumble” without an explanation her answer is in her manner subtle, that instantly invigorates, so decidedly her style, her answer, raising more questions, defeating the illusion of anybody masculine overconfidence of the challenger she puts the ”oy” in coy, deflating my upper-handed attitude, with an answer tantalizing and hinting, so simple, it explains everything and nothing it seems that when she stumbles, it’s me that actually, “all fall down” ah woman, when you best me, it brings forth the best and adds an “a” in this poetic beast, two play fighting cubs nipping each other. the in us gaming in this wordplay game, so exciting, her subtle reasoning teasing results in a man as a happy sore loser*
0
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 5:16 PM UTC
a tendency to stumble
See, it’s more of a… hypnosis, A deep slumber of an everlasting fantasy. Trust me, I love it. Like a whisk into a different parallel world Filled with flashing colors that swirl and twirl, in fact, kind of similar to a dress on a ballroom floor. Not just any ballroom floor though. No, this, like Van Gogh’s Starry Night a masterpiece that cannot be replicated, and to step foot on it is one of careful deep sea excitement I wish to step there. However, I am a tad ungraceful and my feet are about as elegant as a scuba diver’s flippers. So I might just impersonate one and dive deep into the sea of the unknown and secret homes hoping it delivers an innate whisper of the anticipation, the excitement of this hypnotic, starry world. Deeper I go, into this never ending oceanic abyss With the darkness just as tongue twisting as it gets Looking for something, anything, to salvage my reason for going this deep, this late, Because I have a tendency to procrastinate about the tasks most essential to my fate. But, if you want, you can accompany me and we can scuba dive together into the deep sea of the not yet discovered and shining beacons of wonder And if we’re lucky, we might find the lost city of Atlantis. And while we’re there we can search and search for the spoils and riches of the hidden majesty and wouldn't it be just lovely if we find a treasure chest, something? With an eye for design we can admire it’s beauty but we have to open it because that’s the secret in the treasure. To open it. And the contents are the spoils. Open it.
0
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
Spoils of the Treasure
See, it’s more of a… hypnosis, A deep slumber of an everlasting fantasy. Trust me, I love it. Like a whisk into a different parallel world Filled with flashing colors that swirl and twirl, in fact, kind of similar to a dress on a ballroom floor. Not just any ballroom floor though. No, this, like Van Gogh’s Starry Night a masterpiece that cannot be replicated, and to step foot on it is one of careful deep sea excitement I wish to step there. However, I am a tad ungraceful and my feet are about as elegant as a scuba diver’s flippers. So I might just impersonate one and dive deep into the sea of the unknown and secret homes hoping it delivers an innate whisper of the anticipation, the excitement of this hypnotic, starry world. Deeper I go, into this never ending oceanic abyss With the darkness just as tongue twisting as it gets Looking for something, anything, to salvage my reason for going this deep, this late, Because I have a tendency to procrastinate about the tasks most essential to my fate. But, if you want, you can accompany me and we can scuba dive together into the deep sea of the not yet discovered and shining beacons of wonder And if we’re lucky, we might find the lost city of Atlantis. And while we’re there we can search and search for the spoils and riches of the hidden majesty and wouldn't it be just lovely if we find a treasure chest, something? With an eye for design we can admire it’s beauty but we have to open it because that’s the secret in the treasure. To open it. And the contents are the spoils. Open it.
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And Maybe we started off loving each other, Or maybe we Pretended the hate we had for each other, wasn't what Begun. But Maybe the Lust was just Lost in our Hostility, Because we only showed our true affections, though our every aggression. Maybe Obedience on my part, Led you to your obsessive, Threatening tendency's, Some that led you throw your clammy fists at me, But you Threw Terribly, Sometimes I think you were being Empathetic to me, When you didn't really force your fake Expression of love on me. Because sometimes, I just had blow you, To prevent our blow outs, But Every time you Exposed me, You Excuse yourself, by saying you love me. Sometimes, Love and Hate Start off the same, But we wont see it, Until the ending letters, end with E, for Ending.
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Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
Love Hate end with E, for Ending.
I am the flightless pelican. I’ve found myself with my mouth full, my stomach full, and so much still on my plate. Possessed by an inhuman hunger, I will gorge upon pure potential. I will yowl on and on, without sleep. - I have sand between my toes. My shoes are glued to my feet. Keep on running ‘til the calluses come. There has to be a point where I stop to sweat, and I’ll finally get my sigh of relief. I have one ride left on my bus pass. - I have a tendency to ramble and languish in my own stench. People tend to forget this at first; lured in by the false face of a genetic fluke. They want to know the impression I left, not the procrastinator; the cud-chewing goat. - I can’t sleep being held, or if I feel someone’s breath in the still. I start to feel the urge to burrow into the quiet quilts; patchwork Promised Land. I cater to the crowd that caters to themselves, but I’m no Utilitarian. Fox and Lion. - I have cousins like brothers, and I have brothers like strangers. Stray cats with names and a copy of The Mahabharata that I stash my money in. I’m sitting on a sunny pier with my hook in the water; avoiding conflict with no bait.   - Paper cuts from the gold leaf on the edges of hymn book pages with burgundy leather covers. These guilty cuts, bleeding for what seems like hours, while we steadily forget that anyone was singing. Alone with our thoughts in the crowd.
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Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
I Am the Flightless Pelican
I have problems. I can't sleep at night and, no one's really ever here for me. Or at least it feels that way. I mean, isn't that right? In the end it's just you. Doesn't matter how many friends you tend to cling to, Because the waves of reality are always shifting, No matter what the tendency. My parents ignore me, and my friends avoid me, Am I really the only one who feels this way? It's as if I have to strain to sleep now a days. Because so many problems stray in my mind, I wish I could somehow change the time. But that's not my choice, I've been placed here inevitably, The space I have to breathe intoxicates me. I'm so sick of being here most days. I dream rather often about running away. My parents must be blind, to not realise how stressful the way that act toward me can be.
0
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
Problems.
You-will-not-lie, -bed-chambers-long, For I, -am-coming-to-get, YOU! Clawed-through-the-dirt, -up-the-roots, I am here, -come-to-get, YOU! Followed-tree-roots, -that-sweet-smelling-Earth! Here now! -It's time-to-forget-YOUTH. *HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! Aha Ha Ha Ha,  -The Goblins Attack!!* * *Grab-you-and-cover-those-murmuring-cries. Drag-you-away, I have got, YOU! Hungry-I, watering-mouth-glistening-eyes! Bundle-of-joy, I have got, YOU! Jump-down-tunnel-for-you-are-my-prize. Look-at-you-now, my-sweet-tasty-meat-PIE! *HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! HALLOWEEN THIS! HALLOWEEN THAT! Aha Ha Ha Ha,  -The Goblins Attack!!* Addendum: The name appears to be an amalgamation etymologically of roots from Greek, Sanskrit and Sumerian. If, of course, you choose to translate it that way. I assume Plato to be an authority on the Ancient Greek's tendency to combine the words of multiple mythologies sharing similar characters linguistically. The purpose of the hyphenation is to suggest the tempo and speed of the rhyme's cadence. Kalikantzaroi 'The Demon's of Earth'
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Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 10:09 PM UTC
Kalikantzaroi
I noticed a while ago. I am subconsciously Objectifying everyone. And when I think about it Objectified people Are easier To deal with. I don't think this odd tendency of mine is Natural. In fact, I'm sure it isn't. It's the result of a subdued conscience. A conscience I always had. I cared deeply for others. I felt bad Cried myself to sleep For the smallest things. An offhand insult I wasn't sure was even heard. A chip taken from the lunch table. An argument to be forgotten and ignored the next day. I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach. I cried Hated myself Continuously hit myself Cried more And had nightmares. As I got older These feelings faded But still I get these pains in the pit of my stomach. And I remember how I was Before I was numbed by Objectification. I saw people as people. I cried because I don't want people to feel bad. Not because of me! I can't think of anything worse Than being that picture on a dartboard That gives the incentive to Never. Miss. To be hated. Even disliked. Thought of as trash As I often am I suspect. Looks of disgust I draw From people I care for Who I don't want to hurt Who constantly hurt me. It tears me apart And as I write this I feel tears welling up Which they haven't done for Years. I began this objectification. "That's just a dumb person." "He's an idiot." "Just one of those mean kids." And I stopped caring if I hurt them Because caring hurts. A lot.
0
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
Objectification
this is a poem dedicated to distance. to every time i have wanted to kiss you, but couldn't. to every time i looked at my empty hands and thought of yours. to every time i was in a crowded room and secretly hoped that i'd find your face. to every happy couple we see that inadvertently mocks our inability to be near each other. to every time i've played your laughter over and over in my head to drown out the silence. to every time you just wanted to hear my voice, but i was busy. to every missed call and every undelivered text and every time your internet was down. to every miscommunicated statement and every typo. to every time that one of us was asleep when the other needed them. to every time you wept and i wasn't there to hold you. to every self-destructive tendency we share. to every pill your mother has hidden and every razor blade i have flushed. to every worry that plagues my consciousness whenever you take long to reply. to every night we have been together through a screen, but alone in our beds. to every, "i miss you" and "i wish you were here". to every broken-record apology that never makes it better. to every makeup stain that mars the sweater you sent me so that i could feel like i was sleeping with you (and to the fact that it doesn't smell like you anymore). to every hour, every minute, every second of difference in the time between us. to every dollar i don't have, and every time i wished for your chest against my back. to every, "why are you even with me?" and "you could do better". to every spectator and cynic that has told us we'd fail. to every doubt of mine and to all your jealousy. to every ounce of water in the pacific ocean. to every ******* mile between my head and your chest (i checked, and there are 9,752). you will not win. - m.f.
0
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 2:45 PM UTC
on distance -
this is a poem dedicated to distance. to every time i have wanted to kiss you, but couldn't. to every time i looked at my empty hands and thought of yours. to every time i was in a crowded room and secretly hoped that i'd find your face. to every happy couple we see that inadvertently mocks our inability to be near each other. to every time i've played your laughter over and over in my head to drown out the silence. to every time you just wanted to hear my voice, but i was busy. to every missed call and every undelivered text and every time your internet was down. to every miscommunicated statement and every typo. to every time that one of us was asleep when the other needed them. to every time you wept and i wasn't there to hold you. to every self-destructive tendency we share. to every pill your mother has hidden and every razor blade i have flushed. to every worry that plagues my consciousness whenever you take long to reply. to every night we have been together through a screen, but alone in our beds. to every, "i miss you" and "i wish you were here". to every broken-record apology that never makes it better. to every makeup stain that mars the sweater you sent me so that i could feel like i was sleeping with you (and to the fact that it doesn't smell like you anymore). to every hour, every minute, every second of difference in the time between us. to every dollar i don't have, and every time i wished for your chest against my back. to every, "why are you even with me?" and "you could do better". to every spectator and cynic that has told us we'd fail. to every doubt of mine and to all your jealousy. to every ounce of water in the pacific ocean. to every ******* mile between my head and your chest (i checked, and there are 9,752). you will not win. - m.f.
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http://m.wikihow.com/Unhook-a-Bra Pinch the eyelets but oh so gently, To properly unhook the device to safely release paradise From it's containment chamber. This be one of many secrets to unlocking The mechanism that holds some of the happy things The human body artist conceived To perpetuate the Species. According to the internet, To extract joy to the world correctly, Depends upon both your station and your Positioning. Thus, it helps to have GPS, Which most men think is that pointy thing Between their legs, But is not. Given the laws of gravity, And other natural limitations, Sadly that utensil of little avail In this surgical operation. If one desires to release the tension Between the connectors of the protectors, Guardians of her heart, It will be necessary to Let your fingers do the walking. So cut and paste the title above, In your web browser place! Do your homework or risk feeling As petite as a schnauzer. Seems your natural tendency, Righty or lefty, matters in this endeavor, Of which I was unawares, oft pressing the incorrect lever. This, the likely cause of my spectacular Teenage Fumblings and failures. Had I known that fact, In the days before the Internet, Surely I would have brought along my Catchers mitt To step up my game. Sage advice the article provides: *Get a bra, and practice, practice, practice! It gets easier with experience.* But methinks that is a bit of a Risky adventure, Lest you be seen boy, Practicing upon yourself, Or even a dummy, Dummy! So cut and paste the title above In your web browser, Do your home work or risk feeling As petite as a pocket schnauzer. But the most important tip This wealthy article of information provides, The conclusion. In the hour of your desperate struggle, Drooping Ego And Crushed Pride, Ask for assistance from one more practiced, Hopefully nearby, Whose help usually comes with a charming smile of touching condescension For your male idiocy and verbal in-articulation. *She, unawares, that you have got her Positioned precisely where you want!* For when you lift her up, In a free state, the one Divinity intended, and in your arms, enfolded and protected, In one grand poetic gesture, Sweep her off her feet, Her surprise will be **.. O So Touching!**
0
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 6:30 PM UTC
Unhook-a-Bra (2013)
http://m.wikihow.com/Unhook-a-Bra Pinch the eyelets but oh so gently, To properly unhook the device to safely release paradise From it's containment chamber. This be one of many secrets to unlocking The mechanism that holds some of the happy things The human body artist conceived To perpetuate the Species. According to the internet, To extract joy to the world correctly, Depends upon both your station and your Positioning. Thus, it helps to have GPS, Which most men think is that pointy thing Between their legs, But is not. Given the laws of gravity, And other natural limitations, Sadly that utensil of little avail In this surgical operation. If one desires to release the tension Between the connectors of the protectors, Guardians of her heart, It will be necessary to Let your fingers do the walking. So cut and paste the title above, In your web browser place! Do your homework or risk feeling As petite as a schnauzer. Seems your natural tendency, Righty or lefty, matters in this endeavor, Of which I was unawares, oft pressing the incorrect lever. This, the likely cause of my spectacular Teenage Fumblings and failures. Had I known that fact, In the days before the Internet, Surely I would have brought along my Catchers mitt To step up my game. Sage advice the article provides: *Get a bra, and practice, practice, practice! It gets easier with experience.* But methinks that is a bit of a Risky adventure, Lest you be seen boy, Practicing upon yourself, Or even a dummy, Dummy! So cut and paste the title above In your web browser, Do your home work or risk feeling As petite as a pocket schnauzer. But the most important tip This wealthy article of information provides, The conclusion. In the hour of your desperate struggle, Drooping Ego And Crushed Pride, Ask for assistance from one more practiced, Hopefully nearby, Whose help usually comes with a charming smile of touching condescension For your male idiocy and verbal in-articulation. *She, unawares, that you have got her Positioned precisely where you want!* For when you lift her up, In a free state, the one Divinity intended, and in your arms, enfolded and protected, In one grand poetic gesture, Sweep her off her feet, Her surprise will be **.. O So Touching!**
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a Gestalt principle of organization holding that there is an innate tendency to perceive incomplete objects as complete and to close or fill gaps and to perceive asymmetric stimuli as symmetric
0
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
Closure
I dive left before heading right, more times than I care to admit, Each time I turn right and am not confronted, it feels like rejection, A small death of little consequence for the life that could have been So sweet, so superficial, a mini life grew- as I read your bio, To be dashed in another instant of silence, I have a tendency to rush into things without much guidance. Your voice is sweet and smooth- to read, Imagine a personality that fits- perfectly in the palm of my hand, Conveyed in small white messages, poked through smaller holes, Each one I read makes me feel a little brighter inside, But each little light catches fire and dies, I must confide That each one I read makes me feel alive. But only for the moment, so I conduct another, Small parcel containing another little piece of my soul, “If you can feel your soul slowly, slipping away, that means that you still have one” That is a phrase that will lead you to defeat before you have begun, It leads to me giving away much less than I can afford, These ‘one for one’ serotonin boosts are leaving me bored… So maybe we could meet, go get something to eat, I am sure that I won’t be bored by your topic of conversation, Or at least I will try and make it look that way, Because the cold reality is that we have nothing in common, Except for a lack of self-esteem and an overestimation of our- Social skills, next to non-existent, I am perpetually distant! I am sure that you were terrifically disappointed with last night Because your messages are written on withered pieces of paper, A full stop is the most definite thing that there is, Subtle undertones have a pulse and it beats, Black blood to and from a dying heart, I should have known that you were poison, right from the start.
0
Aug 15, 2019
Aug 15, 2019 at 8:22 AM UTC
Poem for a girl I met online
I dive left before heading right, more times than I care to admit, Each time I turn right and am not confronted, it feels like rejection, A small death of little consequence for the life that could have been So sweet, so superficial, a mini life grew- as I read your bio, To be dashed in another instant of silence, I have a tendency to rush into things without much guidance. Your voice is sweet and smooth- to read, Imagine a personality that fits- perfectly in the palm of my hand, Conveyed in small white messages, poked through smaller holes, Each one I read makes me feel a little brighter inside, But each little light catches fire and dies, I must confide That each one I read makes me feel alive. But only for the moment, so I conduct another, Small parcel containing another little piece of my soul, “If you can feel your soul slowly, slipping away, that means that you still have one” That is a phrase that will lead you to defeat before you have begun, It leads to me giving away much less than I can afford, These ‘one for one’ serotonin boosts are leaving me bored… So maybe we could meet, go get something to eat, I am sure that I won’t be bored by your topic of conversation, Or at least I will try and make it look that way, Because the cold reality is that we have nothing in common, Except for a lack of self-esteem and an overestimation of our- Social skills, next to non-existent, I am perpetually distant! I am sure that you were terrifically disappointed with last night Because your messages are written on withered pieces of paper, A full stop is the most definite thing that there is, Subtle undertones have a pulse and it beats, Black blood to and from a dying heart, I should have known that you were poison, right from the start.
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