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Tatiana 5d
They read our unlabeled books
laughing every second
our minds erupt
©Tatiana

how troublesome it is to be judged
.
.
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Check out the other poems in this mini series I wrote
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3198382/looks-****/
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3198466/peace/
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3198472/my-friend/
Mark Upright Jun 2014
there is no perfect man,
there are the simple, the plain,
the whole of himself,
just so, contented in who he is,
needs not be, better than...

then he is on way to
upright, up and right
for the shades are clarified,
and those troublesome grays,
somehow have answers

his end is not peace,
his start, finish,
and all that is in between
one and the sane,
in simplicity comes
a joy of acceptance,
and therein is his path
Daisy Oct 2018
making sure you could hear me
was never the problem
the problem

was being listened to

i needed to think less about
whether i’m being too
troublesome

and start thinking more about
what i can do to be
influential

i was born to leave
a big crater wherever i stand
a sign that i am just as thundering as you

i construct my words
to be deafening
to make your ears ring and your eyes water

i was taught to make my ideas
the thoughts you lust after
the kind that are both confident and emphatic

because its always better to be
powerful

than to be
voiceless
I decided because this page started off with such a sad note, some positivity was in order
Emeka Mokeme Jul 2018
Tell me what it is that you can't do,
or become,
tell me what it is
that is too insignificant to achieve.
Life is not worth throwing away
just to please certain people by
forgetting the truth and essence of life.
You don't want to die for another's believe.
Using your death to **** their assumed
enemy means you are one too.
Blowing up yourself is an abomination.
Anything unnatural that could cause
anyone's death is not worth anything.
Avoid it like a plague.
Hide yourselves from it's way,
when it comes with fury to meet you.
Close your ears from it's path,
as it uses subtle words to cajole you.
Guard your heart from the troublesome
tempest of it's bait as it keeps knocking
on your door to convince you,
using all kinds of manipulative
crafty intimidating tactical
techniques to woo you,
just to send you to your death.
Don't buy their ideas for it has nothing
to do with your vision.
Death awaits anyone who does not listen
to the secrets offered by wisdom.
It may look so strange and simple,
but it carries within it the age old beneficial
heart warming truth that has time tested
safe haven to keep you alive.
Heed to it's invitation to live.
Cowardice is not courage,
it's only an end to your beautiful life.
If there's truth in dying to prove your cause,
why are the initiators don't die
first to prove their case.
Can't you see that it's all for nothing.
Be wise and say no to their call.
Your lives matter.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Suicide bombing and the people who cajoled and confused them to **** themselves and others needs to stop.
The fear and uncertainty
Is lying straight ahead
We have to face reality
It's a fact it must be said.

We live in a world of confusion
We see it on the news
And we are often disillusioned
Properganda is what they use.

The mighty they make us shudder
We hear them everyday
No agreement amongst each other
Just fearful words they say.

No wonder there's  addiction
With Drugs and alcohol alike
Predictions from politicians
They never get it right.

Many stop and wonder
About this Nuclear age
It takes one foolish blunder
From a simple act of rage.

Things may not be as obvious
As Destruction from a Nuclear war
Mother nature waits before us
She stands outside our Door.

The shape of this world is changing
But not in the way we may think
Man seems to be endangering
Many creatures could become extinct.

Now all of this seems troublesome
With a planet that no more could be
The end of this world is sure to come
When there's no more  Honey Bees.
Fearful times we are living Nuclear threats
And wars .But it is mother nature that is more likely
To bring this planet to its knees .It is said that without
The Honey Bee or let's say the little garden Bee.
This earth couldn't Exist.The sad news is they are in decline.
At least that's what the experts say.it is time to act and preserve
These little creatures not to mention other creatures.
Deep May 5
The 'gyre' hints arrival-
Twenty centuries making room
For a new epoch,
I’m modern bird now,
I may sound haphazard, troublesome and brooding
unimportant topic for hours,
It's up to you to lend ear or not;

I was winged rooster confined to land only,
Now I’ve become 'hawk', with knowledge of flight
perhaps power too,
Seeing the world from far above
Envisioned me a seer sight;
I see the world functioning; the lowliest on top,
the best in daze, and mediocre relishing mediocrity,
One or two good men wasting
life in poetry; Of which none cares.
Oblivious armed men guards the periphery;
At centre white termites gnaws the Door.

At this height, all seems different,
I can’t relate with my earlier self;
My knowledge seems nothing but
a frail sound in vacuum.
When I became 'conscious'-
My dreams stopped being dreams—
My thoughts were invaded daily—
Life evolved in million years—
'God is dead', universe all naked.
We’re the supreme, the Satan both;
Busy in triumphing Nature.
Converging all— blazed my beliefs.

We’ve progressed too much, portends
the trembling of earth
And smoke eclipsing the sun.
'Death I breathe',
War looms again,
Life is traded in forfeited currency.

I see the world functioning,
I know one or two tricks too to cheat,
To assault, to ****, to loot.
I can foresee the end—
Its good to die starving then
To fly in proximity of land.
gyre; comes from WB Yeats,
Hawk; Ted Hughes (Hawk Roosting)
Freud's term - Conscious, Nietzsche's quote 'God is dead'
laurynas-dyma Mar 27
plummeted down, like the stars at night
whilst the moon was listening to my cries.
painful noise ringing through the neighbourhood, but not reaching yours.

building it up will be tough. will you help me?
or will that be a burden, an inconvenience, to your already troublesome life?

(not) asking for much. loving too much. caring too much. that's why i break. into shards that you won't help to stick back together.

it must be nice to love someone who let's you break them and knowing they will stay. though forgetting leaving as an option.

all i know is that loving you is not a losing game.
i dare you to break me again
MUNCHY Sep 2018
He was once weak
Scarred by what was not
meant from him to see
Every time a chain
he wanted to break
There was always
a board ,
block ,
A barrier in his way
to let someone see the beauty
In this case,
“ handsomeness-within”
that was a better than what was outward on display .

A face has so many expressions,
intentions ,
Point of views
That lead to assumptions & perceptions .
But what he felt inside is unexplainable to the human eye
& it’s nothing any other person
can ever truly feel .
True feelings can be expressed
yet people can say things are okay
But when a person
drifts one day to the next
Keep pushing
Keep thriving
Excel the bull
Because that’s not worth fighting ,
It becomes tiresome
So he fell apart
& couldn’t get back to where he was before
& just like a painting
You have to take time
To pay close attention
to every detail.
Don’t rush
The strokes
The faded colors
Be woke
Inside like as if this was your last time
mastering the art
But that’s different from
a person’s heart .


Yet he  kept getting  closer
& as he  kept getting older
His  heart could no longer take
Being apart of another person’s troublesome heart
if that person can’t
let him in all the way .

He was once free
But in reality
People see him as their animal spirit
Or just beautiful human
But their blinded by the outward appearance because he failed to tell them how he’s truly feeling


So he puts up walls to block out the reality .
Uses the stage to tell the story of people he portrays
But in his mind
The characters he portrays
are always somewhat relatable
in a way .

He used art
when he feels broken
Though he falls
apart mentally
But parts of him are revealed in ways that might be surprisingly beautiful
to the viewers watching ,
audience members observing ,
But inside the vulnerability
Expressed in a magnificent ways
comes to life.

Loves the theater
But can’t stand the drama
If it’s not on the script
on paper written
He wants nothing to do with it because will lead to traumas.

But he knows that in reality you’re going to come across people
That always talk their talk
Still knowing he’ll walk that walk.
Like walking on water
Parting the sea
like God did with Moses
Feeling free
Sprouting like plants
that are plentiful
& beautiful like daisies & roses
But will never be ****** down
Hanging onto the tight rope .
He will climb & move mountains
In order to get to God’s
next challenge
& obstacle somehow .

If you can’t handle what people throw at you’ll break like a twig
If you let your inner demons get the best of you,  you won’t live
If you overthink things that
will only affect you for minutes
Instead of thinking about other stuff that will affect you for your lifetime for the better not for the worse ,
you won’t enliven
You’ll just be weakened



But all it takes is strength
To break apart what wasn’t
yours  to hold on .
You were never made the fall in line for anybody
You are you !!
Don’t let people change you  because you want to make a difference for only them & not you
Take this as a life lesson seriously.
When there’s weakness
there’s also strength
When there is darkness
there is light
Others might not see the light because they are blinded.
And if they’re blinded
that means that they’re
not ready for the light
& yet it came to you
  so step into it .
They will linger
being motionless
unseen ; invisible
wanting some of your light
you have been given .
People make more
dirt for themselves
when their still looking
for nourishment
& nutrients
when their just a ****
& your flower that
blossoms & grows .






~Jordan Munchenburg ~
Don't believe that the starlit is dimmed?
the starlit is bright beyond belief.
Now beady is just the thing,
To get me wondering if the starlit is dazzling.

I saw the dreary spread over of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the mist.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the mist,
Gently it goes - the dull, the dismal, the gloomy.

How happy are grey thunderclouds!
Are you upset by how morose they are?
Does it tear you apart to see the thunderclouds so troublesome?
Relax, begin to Imagine you are in the proximity
to immerse yourself into a precious moment.
It is that needed time you have brought into being, and is intrinsic
to experience composure, equanimity.
Smooth - melodic - ambient music with simple cause,
low and soft will, in its incipiency invalidate
trending previous troublesome thoughts,
silkily, sauntering, lingeringly pauses,
to softly embrace your audible senses
with silence which conveys complete assurance,
that the here and now is yours, no-one elses,
ataraxia created by you, for your true inner self,
It continues; envelops remaining unsettled interruption
embraces the heart, and encourages serenity,
all the remaining negative, solicitous intellection
are temporarily, tipped out of your consciousness,
you are experiencing them leave, then transcended
with blissful tranquillity for your indulgence.
You are asleep with your eyes open, it feels so benefic,
the mind is calm and clear no longer confused.
Melodious sound continues to provide atmospheric
momentum to this sensibility folding into the soul.
Joyfully you are enduring moments of pure inner solitude and
wrapped in perfect peace, consciousness uncommitted.
There is no expectation of time, not at all
just the psyche drifting, changing shape, density, profundity.
You feel wonderfully restituted, calmed; uplifted.
You sense it, knowing, this absence of tension you sought,
this, your perfect you, is transient and will slowly begin to regress, reluctantly,
relinquishing this blissfully serene, conditioned emotional stillness, to be restored.

Then you turn the telly on!     All gone.

Michael C Crowder        March 5th 2019
the power of clearing one's mind, so reality erases the experiences
Aleena May 10
When I wake up
My first thought is you
When I go to sleep
My last thought is you

I am never alone
Because your always present
In my heart
On my mind

When I rejoice
I thank you
When I am saddened
I ask for your help

When I end up in a troublesome place
I can count on you to guide me out
If something does not go as I planned
I give more gratitude
Because it was your plan

Lord I miss you
And I long to be with you
And I can’t wait for the day
When I can finally meet you again
Emeka Mokeme Jul 2018
Jealously guard your heart
from the troublesome tempest.
Preserve your heart for the
good of your soul.
Your body is the only temporary
house that you ever have.
For your own good nurture
and protect both the heart and
the body from any form of abuse
from those who don't value you.
Carry yourself with dignity and respect.
Never allow anyone else or anything
inconsequential to get the better of you.
Come from a place of power to
handle your daily affairs and activities.
For in dealing with lots of individuals
you encounter many different types
of people with all kinds of demeanor
and characters.
Some will stretch your nerves,
most will test your patience and others
will want to prove your mental strength,
while majority will bring out your vulnerability.
Stand firm in your beliefs and convictions,
but listen with the ears of your heart and
know when to let understanding and
compassion play it's part in the role
you are called to partake.
Be a fair player at all times and you
will find there's nothing you cannot achieve with love.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2018
a poem I didn’t plan: but a foot upon my shoulder
gave me no choice

if perfection came along regularly
we would not take note of this August Sunday

the breeze looks steady, blowing a firm few knots
making the waves rulers of the bay
without the necessity of troublesome whitecap shoutouts,
the sailboats muttering thankee

the kids dock jumping into the water so warm they shiver running on a warm summer day, 
 to home, where they do the coverup thing with hoodies and their Great Aunts white haired cozies blankets which appear in untold numbers,
one for everyone and don’t drip the cherry frozen sticks stains
from your tongue and lips

the sun temp modulated and moderate, a summer kiss farewell,
after weekend of thunderstorms and house shakings, it is sad for now
we recount the costly lost days unretrievable and
sky watching
for  naught

the waters inviting again come walk-upon me Island Poet,
to  see my new sea bottom treasures that the heavens, abetted by foolish men and children
have added to my storehouses of grains and pains

decline and recline for
Oh! have I not got one more weekend, to
close out that Melville tale^ and that is something one need not rush to complete

let me clarify - I am a Summer Man^^
and the summers sunsetting
is a ring around my chest that sings ever louder
nearer my god than thee;
now at the age where one only counts down to zero at double time
marching, eye straight

in this place where we - god and me - have sung and battled together
like good friend and peer,^^^
college roommate permanent enemies,
he keeps his teary rains in abeyance to remind that the coming of his schooner is
inevitable and to pack my poems in plastic for the journey
finale

Oh! how can perfect be so saddening but it is

my perfection days are minimizing and should not complain
for wrote many poems to day, unable to refuse my traveling muses
who summer with me, one upon each shoulder until god kicks them off, with a bossy look of
he’s more mine than yours

to make sure his presence acknowledged he
makes Pandora play Billie Holiday singing:
“I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and ***
I'll always think of you that way

I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you”


subtle, right?

but who am I to complain
the razor thin difference tween
blessings and curses so thin
sometimes are they not the same thing

ne sont-ils pas les mêmes?


an unplanned poem
part of the plan
Classy J Apr 27
Dulled passion, lingering fire.
Sailing across my empty desires.
Strayed away from my paths for so long.
Sustained pretender believing nothings wrong.

Prolonged suffering, becoming my new friend.
Tedious tendencies paying dividends.
Lost everything by gambling.
Red-eyed monster got a hold of me.

And I...
Just wanna break away.
Just want to feel ok.
Just want to be sober some day.
But today is not that day.
But today I’m just a slave.
But today I hate myself.
Drinking my pain away.

Tossing and turning, losing sleep.
Pegged to the ground, as a black sheep.
Melancholy Malcolm, maladapted mongrel.
Maliciously troublesome, painted as hostile.

And I...
Just wanna break away.
Just want to feel ok.
Just want to be sober some day.
But today is not that day.
But today I’m just a slave.
But today I hate myself.
Drinking my shame away.

Thinking back at the times I laughed.
When reality made sense to me.
Thinking back at the times I cried.
When reality came undone for me.
Thinking back at the time I screamed.
When people kept leaving me.
Thinking back at the time I said nothing.
When my words could’ve changed something.

Wishing I could break away.
Wishing I could say I’m ok.
Wishing I could be sober some day.

But today is not that day.
But today I’m just a slave.
But today I hate myself.
Drinking my life away.
"...IT HAS PLEASED THE GOD OF BATTLES..."

General Dan is visiting
his leg

at the Military Museum
for 50 years now.

The one he lost
at Gettysburg.


Walt is visiting the wounded
and the many dying

at the Patent Office
press ganged into a makeshift

hospital
in glass cases

patents stare
at patients

"every kind of invention
it ever occured..."

the poet remarks
"into the mind of man


...to conceive."

A soldier laughs out loud
even as the President visits.

He has been handed
a religious tract

"The Sin of Dancing"
he who

has
no legs.

A crop of amputated feet
grows higher and higher.

How human are
a man's toes.

A dead Confederate
is dragged into position

to make
a better photograph.

Bushfires rage
through the Wilderness.

The scream of the wounded
being burnt alive

begging to be shot
"Did we or did we not

do all
that men could do>"

Shot through the socket
the eye bulges out

both brothers and
yet both survive

Microscopium constellation
looks down upon

this world of men
amazed to find itself

nailed to the Museum's floor
by some man's art

sharing the space
with General Dan's lost leg

that still lives on
in its glass case.

Obscure and barely visible
to the naked eye

just like the constellation
of the dead.

Man now
in a museum

falls asleep with
a book upon his lap

"Lost, Missing and
Troublesome Stars"

Like a musket shot
it wakes the sleeper up

turns heads as
1863

becomes
2003
Shofi Ahmed Sep 2018
Bud of the winter dew on lips grow,
Snowy boughs surrounding began to unfold,
'Spring it shall flower' you must travel along, to see
When she will flower and in her very first glance,
Shall innovate the ether lapis-lazuli sky,
And the glamorous sun in her luminous dews,
She will cast her gaze towards the infinity,
And the veiled spring-night of tender full-moon,
With millions of star thriving, will be reflected upon;
She will whisper to the sleeping morning breeze,
And that will wake dancing the primrose's aroma,
Smoothly waving over the green meadows!

Who will let it be freely, purely, organic!
In whose innovate warm touch shall dissolve,
Poor winter's covering upon the earth,
Hence, once again green earth shall cast,
A glance to its vernal zenana,
Beneath the sunny sky wherein the air,
Shall sniff the aroma of the radiant rose,
And the birds shall tour around,
Singing the song of freedom!

Endure, yet she is beyond the gaze of the sky!
Now a season poor as she has flown away,
Gone to address the assembly of the Angels!
Therefore, accepting an invitation from the fairies,
To have a bath in their lotus-pool, prior to flight.
Hence, delighted fairies all flew to the palace,
To give the news to Queen Mab!

And soon a while after they return,
Around the pool, they greeted and sang,
The spring while she steps into the pool,
They sing and dance, hail the spring:

'The troublesome thorn mingled into itself,
The long **** arm has collapsed pieces itself,
And the beauty has broken through!
Behold! The shining sun under her shadow!
The beauty by her grace fathomless,
Gorgeous she looks, rosy winsome!
Make all dance her awakening fragrance,
Tenderness she breaths, and caresses the bliss,
With a heart of endless love,
Vivifies the file, pleasant, dynamic!'

Meanwhile, the maid of honour came with the news,
They wanted to hear 'the Houris too shall join them.'
Yet they are flowering themselves alike as they gaze,
Upon the adoring scene of divine, winsome, paragon, fashions,
Impressionist hairs of the Queen of Paradise!
Where lay upon the Throne, and youthful streams,
Flowing, surrounded by, and canopied by the sky
Of glory garnished by the millions of the divine artisans!
There the sun care greatest and offers harvest lights,
And now, she comes to the streams, she shall swim.
Therein the never fading water-lily will please her sight,
She will listen to the divine birds of joyfulness,
Singing the songs of the blissful souls,
In the name of the all praiseworthy,
The perpetual Creator, Allah.
As she will innovate the songs,
And the innovative image of the eternal creations,
Will be bestowed upon the spring and all the houris,
Shall greet the spring as they will pour
Flowery rain over the fairies' pool!

Listen, the angels sing 'Lo, the spring'
Again and again, as she dives into the fairie's pool,
And dips out up to the earth! See for yourself:
As youthful as ever with the sun shining on her forehead
And the day on her flowers, with her the earth is radiant
Her soil is perfumed, she belongs to paradise!
Oh, we surrounded by perfect people.
Those with perfect past.
No error of judgment to admit too.

Said, not a racist comment.
Said, nothing inappropriate words.
Just perfect people.

Well, until they are exposed.
Then here comes their story.

It happens when they young.
Truth be told WE all were stupid and dumb.
Running with comments from our tongue.

Some said or spoken to fit in.
Some of live for troublesome friends.

So we all are not perfect.
"My beautiful baby girl"

When she was born
The heavens rejoiced,
They'd given me a baby girl to raise & protect with all my mite mind heart & soul,
All my past traumas and pains had vanished,
When my baby girl was born,
The whole world didn't matter anymore, the heavens had given me a new journey to go on,
They gave me a purpose, a magical reason to fight on, when my baby girl was born, I loved her so much I worked my self to the bone, I was only 16 years old, but how was I to know she'd be ripped away from my heart my mind my life and my very soul, when she was only six months old, I was kicked in to the gutter of life, my heart was broken, and my soul simply didn't wish to go on, I had no place to go, no place to call my home, no baby girl to kiss on the forehead or hug anymore, I missed her crying it's silly I know, but each time I picked her up, she'd never cry at all, I loved & missed my baby girl,
I couldn't sing her to sleep anymore,
13 years had passed so slow, each day I'd think, of my beautiful little baby girl,
Each year the pain in my heart hurt more and more,
I was broken, but then it was just like magic to me, their she stood right in front of me, my baby girl was not a baby girl no more, their we where hugging so tightly as the first photo was took, she hugged my big fat waist, whilst looking up at me smiling with such overwhelming love, my daddy's here and he ain't going anywhere, is what she said to herself, and so I stayed, as she said to herself
"he ain't getting on no plane". My daddy's here to stay,
They say 13 is lucky for some, id skipped 12 & a half years & dived straight into the troublesome ones, "Oh what pain our children cause us"
So many years of heartache and trauma. Here and there the boyfriends and girlfriends come and go, so many tears it's not funny at all, the heartache they go through, Oh the pain of it all.
Now my daughters in her 20s with a baby of her own, she's got it all to come, I hope and pray she enjoys the first 13 years of bliss, the 13 years I her father sadly missed.
She's been my rock she's been my heaven & she's equally been my torment & hell. But my heart she will always have, I love ya kid, your still my whole world. So stand up strong, fight against all odds, never retreat & never ever surrender. Don't live the life I lived. Your baby needs you to be stronger,
than I ever could. X
© by Vincent Von ellesmere 2019.
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