"unatainable" poems
You have the beauty
That enflames the heart
And enchants the soul
Within, don't hide it
Society's standards
Are ridiculous
The media's portrayal
Of what beauty is biased
We spend out of our means
To wear such and such labels
Wear pounds of make-up,
Starve ourselves,
Because who we look in
The mirror is not what
We see on tv?
What is beauty?
Is it the texture of my hair?
Is it the hue of my skin?
Is it my ethnicity?
Is it my weight?
What is beauty?
Black is beautiful
White is beautiful
Hispanic is beautiful
Asian is beautiful
Bi/multi racial is beautiful
You're beautiful
We're beautiful
We don't need society's
Validation
No, we don't need to
Be deemed perfect by society
In actual fact, it's standards
Are unatainable
So why do we strive for
Something we know is
Only an illusion?
Do we realize the impact
That media has in shaping
The way the millennium
Generation
Thinks, and behaves?
We demand change,
But we're the same people
Tuning in to the same
Shows that we protest about
We've become so engulfed
In the world of entertainment
That the word has lost
Meaning itself
Heck, I'm 18
I'm guilty of this too
Entertainment is no longer
Just that- it's crotch grabbing,
Glorified drug, alcohol abuse
And yet, we wonder why
Majority of
My generation has no substance,
No depth, and no layers
We no longer aspire to be
The Obamas, the Ghandis,
The Mandelas and so on
No! That has long passed
The 'American Dream' has
Become Kim Kardashian
And Kanye West
In all honesty,
We are our surroundings
You want change?
Let's stop watching reality tv
Maybe then these networks
Will stop producing more trash
Let's instill morals
In our children
And help them discover
The fire that burns inside
Them, the beauty within
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
Some say love is a kiss
Pressed softly against your cheek
Or perhaps a beautiful summer's
Day, with sunny skies and green grass
Maybe a pain in the chest
Caused by love unrequited,
Lost, or unatainable
But why can't love be everything?
A simple pinprick of emotion
To a blade ****** and twisted in your heart
A plastic grocery bag floating
Heavily in an Ankh-Morporkian river
A dandelion crushed by
Children's running feet
A single raindrop streaking down
From the sky
A baby giraffe stumbling to
Her feet, gangly legs tangling up
An awkward kiss, half shy
But still enjoyed
A hundred spears pointed towards
The heart of one man, standing forward
A broken butterfly wing
Fluttering to the ground
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 11:54 AM UTC
lost in a strange world
only sense we can find
Is in peering through the keyholes
Of locked doors
we bang our fists
and spread the spark
hoping its sent down wind
setting smoke to the answers within
were drawnto the fire
like moths to a flame
Unwilling to be tamed
by the safety belt of the world
smoke seeps from the lock
and we inhale deep
ravenous for
the taste of something
real
the burn we feel
goes undetected
among the drowning men
In this shallow pool
Of lukewarm genuinity
and over-chlorinated sincerity
but we breath the fumes in
with a whole new strength
we break down the door
unleash the deamons
begging for more
than this
unless
we become one
With the fears,
we become none
so we rise with the deamons
and we rise up
above the conscience
dont give a ****
because we never could fit
Within the boundaries
Of a newborn dying man
these unatainable boundaries
never could never will never can
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
.your jealous words
will make a fool of you.
unstable.
creating that bubble of security.
talked into it.
talked out of it
concussed and confused.
the truth lies south.
the world changes and anger ensues those whom have lost themselves.
in losing what i thought was a drop of serenity, humanity, singularity,
i found what i had been missing.
i found the most profound feeling in my mind again,
reazlizing what i was supposed to be filling my life with.
it was the most beautiful of temporary spells.
descrete in meaning,
overwhelming in form.
i reached that treasure in my heart that i had lost to the pirates of time so many moments ago.
reached out my palms and let the time flow through my fingertips.
the unatainable love for life had been captured and caged.
my reality is full and quenched.
so rare,
i describe to you.
silken petals drawing in all the waves of the world,
the things ive lost create the realization of what i really have inside my cup.
im jolting through the golden fields,
swimming gracefully through the torrents of the sea.
calm.
breathing seems to calm the harshest seconds passing through.
emotions sturred, whipped, beat like the yolk of desert.
in the end it rises.
the last ingredient in realization for the now.
this is the most beautiful day the world has ever presented my entity with,
and tomorrow, well the morrow shall wait up for me and give the next gift for mine eyes.
exitement inhales.
my words spill as the paint on your canvas.
i am my reality.
possibility.
Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 9:56 AM UTC
She once told me that i should write about what makes me happy instead of what brings me down. I could write 3 works a day for my entire life and still not completely describe her to the paper. What a flawed system; setting unreachable goals.
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
it closes in
the waves are crashing into my lungs
the salt scratches my throat
the water pulls my limbs downward in each direction
and I am not strong enough to keep the pressure from crushing my ribs
awoken with a gasp, I fumble around my bed.
missing you comes in waves of dark blue and subtle motions
most of these past few years I've been keeping myself afloat
in the middle of a scorching hot ocean
bumping over currants
and everything is peaceful; numb
until the next storm
missing you comes in waves
of dark blue and subtle motions
then the water pours again
overwhelming my thoughts
I scream for you
but my voice is muffled
a distant memory of what we created
presses its palm against my mouth
I reach for you
extending my arms towards what seems to be an unatainable surface
but you're not there
and haven't been there for quite sometime
to pull me from the waves of this drowning sea
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC
What is wrong with love is that it doesn't think, it feels.
At some point you'll be in love with the most mistaken person; the ***** the player, the most unatainable people of all, a tragedy.
A tragedy only worsened when you do get them, because you'll only share a glimpse of life, the most beautiful and magical for you. But how brief that enlightening time is by no means proportionate to the agony of the dark days ahead once they are gone of your side.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 2:57 AM UTC