"unaccepting" poems
If I could,
I would pick up my ink pen
and drown an ocean into you
instead of drowning you in it.
Extract these rotting feelings
for the sake of your ignorance.
Carve scriptures into each delicacy of your brain
so you wouldn’t have to dwell in such misery every day.
Wire faith
to your blemished heart.
Imbue purity
to your sullied soul.
If I could,
I would write you through all depths of insanity
without any harm
so that your
mind no longer persists the thought of death.
There was a time I thought you were dead.
Only you were painted red
in a black and white world.
Like you have been walking barefoot on a broken road
your whole life.
Your demons imitate life
And life imitates the demons.
You are the one being tied down by invisible, nonexistent chains.
So unaccepting of help that has come for you
Watch
the sun touch the horizon
reach the meeting of sun and ground
and
Find further still,
The limits you would like to reach only run from you.
You have such a murderous tongue
for society
people.
But one day I hope to see you write yourself into existence
Rather than to let yourself drown in it.
Why has you dying become something so habitual?
Darling, death is not a friend of yours
Nor are you a friend of his.
But I know of your frequent dates with death
Tell me
Does his neck feel like happiness
And do his lips relieve you of your suffocation
Now
are you lost?
or are you found?
Do you recognize the irony
Of the most terrifying things happening in the most angelic places
Charm yourself upon that bridge
Whose lights light up the city in golden arrays
With a glazed look
you’d think.
In sadness seen go by
You are charmed by either war or hope.
These occurred robberies have taken much
But they left opportunity
Important people
And a moon in your window
A future that only you know the ending of
And a slice of the midnight sky.
So it goes.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
We're not allowed to mention Christianity
A Muslim man discusses Allah, we can't judge.Black people have pride in themselves, so do white people .We're automatically racist and unaccepting. A man gets hired for a high paying job instead of the women.This is a case for feminism because it's injustice. A man cheats on his partner, he has hormones.A woman cheats on her man, she's a ***** A woman is ***** she's making it up.A man is ***** no one believes him. A gay person is disliked by a certain individual .It's homophobia, a black man kills someone and the whole race is blamed, a white man kills someone he's just a ****** You say crusty old white men are making decisions about your body.Should he change his race then decide if you can reproduce? I'm eating Sushi and I'm not Asian, it's cultural appropriation and it's offensive so only Asian people can eat at Asian restaurants? That reminds me of when segregation was going on. We have a right to our opinion but I say something I'm instantly prejudice and you don't want hear it. I made the wrong assumption now I'm a horrible person because you feel that you can monitor my thoughts. You all think that you're all for social justice but it's really going to come back and bite you in the ***
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 5:48 PM UTC
all i ever feel is unaccepted
it really *****
i always wonder, when will people accept me
when will that happen?
a week
a month
a year
never,
then when?
i sit in the corner because i have no other choice
no one accepts me
they never have, never will
and yet i still try, why?
i don't have many friends,
my old ones all left me behind
don't be the one,
to push me aside
don't be that kind of person
at first,
i thought you would stay with me forever
that never happened
you were the only person that accepted me
now your not my friend anymore
everyone else doesn't accept me
why don't you be like them too?
never live a life like mine
to hide behind a wall of insecurity
its never fun
and then to have people be so mean
so unaccepting,
it makes me want to die
pretty pretty please, just accept me
don't be them
just accept me for who i am
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
I am exhausted by strength today.
I’ve often pretended to be a mighty oak fighting the storms
Often fought the strongest winds while standing there in the open
Alone and compelled to fight
My wars, and most of the time theirs
Bewildered and forlorn
Glorifying the oak in me
Yet I have always ended up crooked, scarred, and broken
Unaccepting to the message of reality
That there will always be lulls and long despairs
And a lot of battles that you cannot choose
But will still try to find someone
Who’ll help me gather the fallen sticks, my gnarled and withered twigs
To create something beautiful
While I find again my quiet strength, my calm courage amidst any storm
Jan 20, 2023
Jan 20, 2023 at 10:15 AM UTC
"Do to others
As you want done to yourself"
Says the mothers
Sitting on that high bookshelf
Looking down, unaccepting
As you ****
Her with one deadly swing
"Just rules, Jill"
The problem with that rule,
The big flaw,
My want to die, so cruel,
Breaks that law
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC
why, hello there. nice to see you. and welcome to, our society is a ****** up place that needs be changed.
people think that its perfectly okay to fat shame, **** shame, skinny shame, and anything in-between. but once it happens to them its world war three. guess what, if you dont want something done to you. dont do it. hypocrites and shamers of people are whats wrong with todays society.
people who think that all cops are bad. yes, ill give it to you, most cops now-a-days are ***** but not all of them. some of them actually follow the rules that they're provided with. people who aren't openminded with things is what's wrong with todays society.
people who think that just because someone didnt go to college or finish high school etc. are stupid or are a disgrace. honey, the only person who's a disgrace is you. it is none of your business what happens in peoples lives. people who **** in and think that their negative opinions matter is what's wrong with todays society.
people who think that people who are in the LGTBQ+ community or support it are unworthy or dont deserve respect or anything like that. honey, as i said before, its none of your business. let people be who they want, let them express themselves, let people love each other no matter the gender! people who are unaccepting is whats wrong with todays society.
people in general are whats wrong with todays society. and we, people who accept everyone and anyone need to speak up. voice your opinions. important ones matter. because we, the people matter. no matter if you're black, white, hispanic, gay, straight, bi, lesbian, trans, queer, pansexual, heterosexual, agender, etc. you matter! and we're here to make it known, that everyone matters.
Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 5:05 AM UTC
Laying still in my bed, I do not recognize who is laying there
Unrecognizable to my eyes, pulling a blank in my mind
Someone who once looked so familiar is now a stranger.
There’s a sadness where it once was happy
A pessimist that once was positive
A person that I used to enjoy.
The unaccepting stare is not welcoming
The negative thoughts are not comforting
The utter confusion is all but wanted.
Time goes by and no help is asked for
No changes occur
Nothing.
Finally change hits me, but still no better
For this confusion is now frustration
And this person is growing more distant.
Anger for having expectations
Anger for not caring anymore
Anger for giving up on them.
Falling off the bed, hitting the hard floor below
The only place to go is up
Until the floor falls from underneath me.
I try to stand, but don’t have the strength
I try to speak, but don’t have the courage
I try to listen, but don’t have the patience.
Finally at the bottom I look up
The eyes of the stranger are staring,
Peering inside of me.
Trying to make sense of it all
Understanding who this person is
Though difficult, I recognize them
Denial hits, I cannot accept it
I refuse to admit what I see
Because what I see is me.
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 11:47 PM UTC
And so he went on to take a poll, disguising his dilapidating hope as a courtesy extended to those sitting in front row seats.
All dressed for the occasion, ready to request more than an autograph - he promised a single one to whomever would shed light, offering the scalpel capable of removing (without scar ) the departure of his muse from the pages of his unaccepting heart.
Some stood quiet, others spoke under their breath, awaiting his reaction to synchronized confetti released into the air, settling at his feet and every corner of his despair.
"Perhaps, there is someone else" said a woman to his left.
Yes, there is always someone else, but she was never one to not forgive an insignificant trespass - she understood love in its raw form and would not ask for mine to fit a norm. He replied before moving on to the next confetti flake, kicking it over as if the color was not to his expectation.
Confetti flakes as those of snow
should not be swallowed whole
unless of course you settle in
the shadows and ignore your want for more.
His pen undrawn, intending to retire for the night (short of a promise to come back) he heard a voice:
"The sea cannot be his, a fisherman would know this."
Enraged, he demanded the voice come forward, repeat this abhorring claim and face the wrath of his disbelief.
The room stood silent.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
when living outside the box
everyone is unaccepting
and suspicious and yes
if there were a killing charge
like witchcraft of old centuries
that's the one that would do
but I would not conform
and I will live and die
a poet of no renown
but a poet free a poet
outside the box a poet
a poet a poet a poet
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
To the limits!
And the heaves are harmed, in our lungs
and arms. Tendons flexed on their utmost,
and breath at play in the drowned coast.
To the shores!
And the leaves are left as specks of colour,
from the moors.
and vacations left the hinterlands
of the decayed, breathless holler.
For the greater good we stood as imagined heroes,
Yet for happenstance to lend a chance in our woes,
required a great many motifs
to clamour and climb
In glamourous time
to the raised butte
of a finishing sublime.
Modulate the past and harmonize the future.
Together tapestry'd, akin to patchwork suture.
We weren't raised this way.
To remain forever at play, workhorses neigh.
And sawing brilliance and sawdust eyes,
rapier wit with no equal.
But together a two-parter,
to the shores to see the sea quell.
Wildfire lick like lit flame.
Burn it all down and give me the blame.
It's a carried burden worth the worry.
In mountains some exist as prideful barons.
Barring the loss of their barren,
their smiles turn smirks of heathen carrions.
Which is fine, and the motif licks again.
And the motive is sublime; it's only sin.
Cherish the children and their rue of thresher-born,
Thomas Ligotti and his party of philosophy,
but I'm too caught in histrionics to allow the matter
to matter.
Beyond the kicking feet of the mirthful pitter-patter,
pitted against the coming solstice of time saving;
forward and back and ouroboros we may.
Hold on tight to this singular day.
Ignorant of the causes of our own decay.
Lost during summers covered in spittle and seaspray.
Only to mount a return, a loss,
to the area most unaccepting of the cost.
To the mountaintops!
**** what you see, and reap what you sow.
Push the mountains down into the crow,
and call out for the all the denizens below,
"Here's another landslide." As you call; Heave, and **
Pile them neat and plant a seed,
of a tree that hasn't belonged or had a chirped song
in a placidity.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 4:24 AM UTC
my feet are tired
but they will never feel as heavy
as the ones that took these stairs to bed
every night
having labored
until the smothering sun had seeped into their very beings
the floorboards have grown wise
among the unceasing symphony of footsteps
each layer of rust and grime
conceals an unspoken history
but this hotel was one of few
that took note and listened
with every step I do my best
to glide into the past
echoes of daily conversation
questions and longing
"Did you hear about..."
"The most hilarious thing happened to me today..."
"I miss the way she..."
I see the walls transforming around me
the paper lanterns hanging
dazzling gold detail restored
brilliant red puffed with warm radiance
I see the light spreading across the ceiling
like hundreds of arms held out
to comfort the souls making a home
in this foreign unaccepting land
the wafting smell of familiar cooking
brings about throngs of memory
i will never really know the feeling
but as I look out the window
through the lazy haze of apricot sunlight
I can taste the uncertainty and fear
but it is overwhelmed by dreams
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC
Caught up in my own mind
I don't really know what goes on outside
like no one knows what's going on in here
the twisted thoughts that are supposed to bring fear
seem innocent in a savage mind
I think these thoughts, in the shame I hide
hide from an unaccepting world
In the shadows where I am curled
to hide the damage I can do
to protect myself from you
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 7:53 PM UTC
in holding silence,
a ripple of something smaller under the surface
i have never flown over bodies of water so large i could not see land over the horizon
holding my breath as i momentarily watched waves lap at sands i will never see in person
lips parted in a strange smile, still unaccepting of the reality encased in framed glass
assurance living under skin i still have yet to inspect in the mirror with its sharp corners
pinching past until blood vessels break and nails bite through further
flickering flashes ingrained behind closed eyelids
programmed performances repeated recorded in the chandeliers
twinkling lights reflecting refracting a dance of hands, memorized scripts
air becomes thinner as altitudes rise,
meaningless numbers to someone still choking on the sighs trapped in their own lungs
breathlessness tasting like ***** on tongues that drip in honey
beauty pressed between perfectly manicured fangs
in holding silence, in holding breath
air expands as altitudes rise
soon this fantasy will break like accidentally shattered ceramic plates
unreality sinking further into sore muscles and rattling ribcages
rinsed out with surface seawater,
clearing out the seared wounds that unbridled practiced passion
singe into hands not belonging to the celestial
sweat pooled like wax at collar bones
placing wicks atop ballooning lungs
waiting for the flame to reach the bottom
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 2:40 PM UTC
there on the scaffold
colorful cacophonous screams emanating from workman’s coveralls
captivated her
rebel in real life
engaged by her lack of hero worship dedication to her art the common cause
her fire drew him to her
and so they began to weave their tapestry
it tells a story
tumultuous
traveled
torn
tragic
timeless
true
brilliant hues
life
as art
compatriots
rebels
lovers
newsreels
public pride
personal degradation
recovery
reconciliation
back on the scaffold
cacophony revisited
back on bedrest
resilient resisting unceasing unaccepting
scaffold and ego deemed titanic-like demand artistic license uncompromising
crushed crumble disintegrate
lose face credibility
turn tale
and run to the one deemed feeble
whose
spirit knows no bonds
as body knows no freedom
yet
is Hercules for them both
until
the day her plaits were drawn crisscross on her forehead
decorated with huge glorious blossoms
plucked from the patio
lips kissed
last breath
a pair destined for the history books
a love
rollercoasterlargerthanlife
FateD?
Frida & Diego: FateD?
© 2017 rochelle foles
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 11:07 PM UTC
My head is buzzing.
I can't control it.
I need to settle down,
Let sleep come and
drag me lower,
Allowing me to rest.
But my bed is hard
and unaccepting of my
attempts to sleep,
So I lie awake.
All I want is to escape
into a state of unconsciousness,
so I don't have to feel.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
Where does time stop
When time is inevitable?
It's true, I spent the summer
On my back, waiting for a sign
Each one has felt like a trial
My life became more opaque
By the second
You don't want my storm
You never did
You fall in love with people
Who don't love you, not like I did
As turbulent as we were,
You never met a man like me
I don't belong to anyone
Don't need one like you
Really think you should
When I was a child
I thought love was fated
Seems like I was a coward
Unaccepting of the fact
Love is the rain, love is the snow
Love has come, love has gone
The thunder
In my heart
Was too much
For your raincloud
To take
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 2:15 PM UTC
The night falls often, as she turns her back,
Her sun casts shadows, bleeding radiance.
A second’s brevity is ignorantly understood,
And starts fleeting with her turning face.
Staying clear from the certainties that elapse,
Emerging discordant, in escaping lights
Seeking escape from the elegance in symmetry,
Contemplating, while never forgiving.
Bursting obstinate in all her resentment,
Childishly, the world darkens to hysteria.
Seeking another devilish eye, shining radiant,
Stopping only to gaze at the gleaming dazzle.
Coughing out promises in insincere words,
Wielding her in with an illusive wind.
The veil is cast; diamonds piercing inwards;
A stage of indifference is stubbornly forged.
Resolute, unaccepting to anything unpleasurable,
Desperately drenched, and intoxicated in search.
Walking endlessly on aching legs,
Gasping in and out of the houses of decadence.
Comparing insanities with estranged figures,
Unwillingly enraging the growing distortion.
Ceasing in exhaustion through misplaced exits,
The doors lead only to the roads that circle.
A giant sea appearing in recklessness,
Lost men and women, walking deranged.
Then the bodies tire, turn and fall,
Sinking in loss and fading remembrance.
The veil detaches, seeking the vulnerable,
And she struggles to break the anchor pulling down.
With another gasp, she suddenly awakens,
She stares at the sun, and fails to forget.
Overcome in a daze, which causes her to cringe,
And then paralyzing her every attempt to change.
She sits idly by awaiting subsequence,
A different night? another wail?
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 4:44 AM UTC
What is society?
Is it hate?
Is it power?
Does it make you happy?
Now,our personalities are defined as likes
Now,no one falls in love
Now,your not cool if you don’t do stupid things
Now,only the outside counts
Is this who we are?
Careless,fake,unaccepting humans
Whatever you do people will find a way to hate you
Happiness never stays long
All you have is gone
One person can ruin your life
And you’ll never get it back
The world is shaking beneath our feet
Hoping will fall
We can’t stop the heat
Were gonna fall
Happiness is priceless but so is pain
Crying on the bathroom floor like rain
All the good things have an end
Were all gonna end up dead
Feb 22, 2020
Feb 22, 2020 at 11:09 AM UTC
Last years' cherry tree is quivering bare.
Her leaves undressed, we stop and stare.
The cold is chewing at her bark, gnarling and twisting at her.
She mourns the skylark passing by.
Upon the wings of summer lost, those magical summer days.
The flowers of springtime they once lived beneath the safety of her roots.
Now, in a strange retraction they creep back in their bulbs and corms.
Hiding safely, they're all secure from the forthcoming storms.
The sullen eccentric female, wears her moth-eaten fur coat.
Just to beat the cold outside but, she's hiding inside.
Spying out the window.
In the corner at the back of the room, her resting husband met his doom.
She can't bear to let him go.
How long has he been there?
Nobody knows.
She goes about her business, chattering incessantly.
She's gassing about the weather, the price of fish.
In front of him his meal, remains untouched upon his dish.
It's getting dark, she feels the chill.
After parking a kiss on his icy lips.
Off to bed she creeps.
He's sitting there, still.
A blanket resting on his lap, to keep him nice and snug.
Cold coffee, complete with a film of congealed milk.
Cosy as a bug in a rug.
(C) Livvi
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 4:20 PM UTC
When reality bubbles up and
Bursts into myriads of sparkly
Particles disintegrated because
Your core cannot hold them together
By the thread of meaning
What is left of experience?
Does letting go of predictability
Inside the dome of your inner sky
Lets you fly kites
Or threatens with annihilation?
When I look into another set of eyes
I am so often afraid to see
The bottom, small bits of depth
Scattered around thin like dust and last year's
Crumbs, or desire to elevate
By the thread of illusion
Above someone at least,
Someone who would allow,
Because inside the hollow space holds scale,
A chest of fear and a guard called shame
I am afraid to see
Seeing is one thing I cannot hide
Punished by it over and over again
Naively and stubbornly, I refuse to use it
Connection hurts those who lack the chip
They demand, unaccepting
Why can't you be like us?
Follow the rules we know?
I try not to look at them,
Preserve peace of their dream
Where connection never existed
The food that sustains my spirit
I can't see them, your rules
lost instructions, lost in translation
deliberately, even in the native tongue
I wish to escape this world
To find the truth that sticks
Yet love holds me close to earth
It expands and multiplies
Grows as it gives,
I wish to offer everything there is
Of me, and dissolve
In the chain of destinies
Craftful creation of some
Universal pattern
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 11:30 PM UTC
Questions race,
thoughts tumble like failed gymnasts,
banging against the outskirts
of a brain too small for containment.
Answers are elusive,
slipping through my grabbing hands
as they try to contain something
far too delicate for one to embrace.
Silence tries to surround me,
offering peace in its warmed folds,
but the caucophany is my world;
anything less is foreign soil, unaccepting.
Pen, paper, pastels, pencils,
all attempt to give them form,
but the pictures on a page
are a poor substitute for the ones in my skull.
Furious typing, teeth grinding,
what medium will they accept?
None can consume; all can ease the pressure,
slowly offering droplets of wisdom to a parched earth.
It drives us all to the asylum,
words, pictures, sounds on the edge of hearing
if we can't make a path to free them,
and so I create one failed masterpiece at a time;
perfection out of reach until the day I die.
Jun 22, 2020
Jun 22, 2020 at 12:02 PM UTC