"unjudgemental" poems
He is almost filthier than
The twenty pigeons that he
Somehow has gathered enough
Scraps to feed.
Almighty to them.
Bringer Of Food.
"Look," someone says,
"Parasites on a parasite!"
I think of gods. And parasites,
Picking laughs from
Their unjudgemental
Hands.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 8:00 AM UTC
Do you remember what it was like
When adults spoke words
That we were too young to understand?
Do you remember what it was like
When we were programmed by our parents?
They explained meanings of words,
Trained us in diciplines
And spoke truths
We were too inexpirienced to deeply understand?
Do you remember what it was like
To see a bridge for the first time?
To really see it and wonder
Why it was there and purpose it served?
Something so mundaine today
Back then we just trusted
That if it was there,
Then there must've been
A good reason for it.
We trusted that everything
We saw and heard was true.
don't lie to children
Has it ever occurred to you
That everything we see for the first time
Is being viewed without judgement.
We don't know what it is.
It is up to those who explain it
To remain equally unjudgemental
So we can make up our own minds.
Do you realise that life
Is still a surprise to young eyes?
Don't program them wrong.
Do you realise the responsability
To purify your own mind
Before you speak it
To inexpirienced ears.
If you teach hate, you will see it
Everywhere you go.
Someone once said
if you plant a tree, it will never grow to become grass
So stop demanding it to...
it will always be a tree.
But you help it become
Happier and healthier.
They won't become what you want them to become.
They will become that which they hold a potential for.
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 1:20 PM UTC
The voice of my soul is soft and quiet,
Undemanding and reserved.
All-wise and all-knowing,
but also all-deferring.
She sits in patient silence,
waiting upon me,
as I skirt to and fro
clashing and clanging through life.
The voice of my soul is gentle,
forgiving, and unjudgemental.
She knows what's best, but does not boast,
instead, hoping I'll choose right.
The voice of my soul is sometimes sad,
when I ignore her again and again.
Not despondent, but denied
I push past the tears I see in her eyes.
The voice of my soul grows sometimes louder,
when she has given me plenty of time.
When she sees me wearing thin,
and sees unrelenting warning signs.
The voice of my soul is the voice of a friend:
Compassionate and caring.
She loves me still, despite my flaws
and constant neglect shown toward her.
I can learn a lot from the voice of my soul,
how to be calm and patient and caring.
She has so much to offer, so much to share,
Just waiting for the chance to begin.
And so, on this day, I'm pleased to proclaim
A change in patterns henceforth.
In gratitude, I humbly aquiest
to all spoken
by the voice of my soul.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
their separation
was it 2nd grade, or maybe third?
was it the arguments, or maybe the new war?
was it the bad words, or perhaps the loud ones?
you involved a 3rd side, to a two-sided commitment.
why?
because you got tired after what?
17 years of fighting?
was that what forever meant to you?
17 years and a couple of months?
or did you think we weren’t worth fighting for?
was it a thrown away ring, or maybe you threw away the whole marriage?
it explains why you love running so much.
since instead of walking by our side, you ran away.
but I wonder, 10 years ago
were my tears not enough to keep u in such a commitment?
were my letters every night not enough of a reminder?
of how much love I had for you and my mother?
did that not have any impact on you? or was the package too good to refuse?
better than seeing my sister & I grow in front of your eyes,
better than being there for the family, that your majesty created.
it’s a little funny, you know?
10 years later, and I still
tear up thinking about you sleeping with a woman,
who doesn’t hold my mother’s name, features nor kindness.
I feel weak, yet strong because I have both of you.
empty, yet full because I hold your name. after mine.
poor, yet rich by knowing you will always be there for her.
broken, yet collected because I know your name
doesn’t leave her prayers.
I love you & I always will.
I love her & I will forever do.
beyond your decisions, and failures.
by forever & always,
I don’t mean 17 years like you did.
because I’m seventeen writing this, and I can assure you
I’m not halfway done loving you, nor your imperfections.
by forever & always,
I don’t mean I will look for a replacement when it gets tough.
I don’t mean running away when it gets overwhelming.
because believe it or not.
I can love better than you, because of you.
because I learned when to be like you, and
when to be the opposite of you.
I would like to finish this by saying,
I will never stop writing about your failure,
not to criticize your life or your emotions. I would never.
but to simply show that love CAN come out of such broken souls.
fullness CAN come out of such massive sacrifices.
grace CAN come out of such anger.
with unjudgemental love,
your 17-year-old daughter. **
Jun 4, 2019
Jun 4, 2019 at 11:16 PM UTC