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John B Jun 2012
all aluminum alloy ammo  

bane bat brakes badly basters back bones

come call cthulhu Cristo cuz

dead ******* dominate de download  

even elven eternal endowments

fail frivolously flaming for fair fraudulence

grant good goggles give grandiose gratuity

how hella homeboys have how he has

If I ignore I implicate its implore

jack jacks jacks

kay killla kooks krack

LAPD locks la lackeys

maybe mom made mad monoxide

no, no natural nix NOx neutralizes

oh over overt opp only overlay orphic

please protest politely panic pretenses perpetuity

quiet quivers quiet queens

remember rage reaps reciprocity

so sour sits supplanters sat

to tell them to tare trail *** tat?

universal unhappiness underlays under us

victory validates victors vanity

why warble when winners wont waste worry wanting

x-axis x-rays Xerophagy Xanax Xanthorroea

you yodel yonder yet yahweh's yells Yarrish

zero zag zealots zoos
.......if they got me they'll get you to
Graydon Archer Nov 2012
There is a love that goes beyond passion. Beyond desire.

A love that is felt within the very fiber of the soul.

One with ardent, inexorable devotion.

A love of imperceptible depth, and intense adoration.

There is a love as  unyielding in its fervency,

As it is in its sanctity.

A love that is immutable, and enduring.

There is a love that sustains and validates one's existence.

A love that is uncompromising in it's absolutness.

There is a love that leads one to their destiny.

One that is incomprehensible. Without concession.

A love that holds the heart in passionate seduction.

There is a love that is timeless and unending.

A love that is unyielding in it's conviction.

There is a love with irreducible and fierce conviction.

A love with immeasurable compassion.

And that love, is the love I hold for you.
Andrew Rueter May 2017
When I'm with other people
Their mere presence reflects my character
Their strength validates me as an individual
Friends sneak away and doubt creeps in
Who am I without my companion justifiers?
Nobody
So I'm going to build an army
And we're going to storm the walls of hatred
They'll throw their bombs
******, ******, ****
Usually more specialized weapons appear as well
All trying to use shame to strip us of our very humanity
We disarm their shame with pride
Not pride in the way one is born or lives
But pride in the face of those who tell us we should feel ashamed
Those hate filled walls will be trampled by our friendship
Once we've infiltrated the pitch black city
We'll seize their holy temple
And find me
Naked, crying, alone
We'll pick me up and dust me off
After all, I have an army to build
NitaAnn Jan 2014
I ponder that question during those long nights when my mind won’t rest and I am begging for someone to knock me out with an injection of some mind-numbing medication so it will just stop. It used to be that the overwhelming question of “WHY” would send me into fit of self-destructiveness and suicidal thoughts. Kind of a: I can’t change it…I can’t fix it…no one will listen to me…which would lead this overwhelming internal pain that I could not deal with and I would hurt myself (mostly cutting) in a last ditch effort to get it to just stop. I don’t want to die, I’ve never wanted to die – not really…I just want someone to help me figure out a way to deal with all the conflicting parts of me and my past – help me in a way that WORKS!

NITA, YOU NEED TO DEAL WITH YOUR FEELINGS BEFORE THEY DEAL WITH YOU….and deal with me, they have. Now what? Since my feelings began to manage me and I was no longer able to manage them…I was told to put them in the ‘time-out’ bucket. Label them – and throw them in the bucket. Well, let me just store them in the old cedar chest where they were covered with a quilt and preserved for 30 years before someone actually led me to believe that it was ‘okay’ to talk and I was not bad…and that I had a right to be heard and understood and ‘accepted’.
(To be fair, let me add the statement that my self-destructive behavior was excessive and troubling…and there were times when I could have died due to my ‘behavior’. And yes, I get that it’s okay to have feelings and emotions – however best not to always act on them.)  


But the problem is that there is so much hurt...so much pain, that we can't do it alone.  We have stored it for so long because we were afraid and ashamed that to finally find someone we can trust and then to feel as though that trust was breached…it’s like validation that we never should have spoken in the first place. Somewhere in our maladaptive brains it only confirms that our abusers were right. We don’t matter. Everyone else is more important than we are. We are nothing. We have no rights and we will always be nothing.  However unintentional that perceived breach of trust was...it was enough to send us right back there again. Even if it was a promise, or commitment, that was not sustainable - but was offered with only the best of intentions...even if your life 'changed' and you had over-extended yourself...that just validates that we are not important.  I realize that is not the way a 'normal' person, a person who actually received love and care that every child deserved, reacts.
But we never had that...our trust was broken time and time again.
Day over day,
week over week,
year over year.


Yes, it is a lot of shame to carry...too much. And the abuse from my childhood has ripped apart my insides to a depth I can barely see and feel.  There are parts of my being that were destroyed to the point that I know they can never be recovered.  Every night when I lay my head down I wish for even two hours of peaceful sleep....telling myself, "Sweet dreams, no nightmares."  Each evening when the darkness comes I hope like hell I can get through it without feeling him all over again, without hurting myself, without a pain so intense I cannot stay in this body anymore.  Each morning I wake up with no new injuries or long lasting residual after-affects from nightmares I am thankful for surviving another night.  But the shame, and the fear, and the pain...and the sadness of not having anyone to help guide me though it...all of that remains.  But I have put it back into the cedar chest and covered it with the quilt.  It is my childhood dowry...a dowry no one wants.  

And I remain silent.  
Because I am afraid now.
I am ashamed of my behavior.
  I am ashamed of my weakness and fear.
I am ashamed.
I am ashamed.

But I hope that someday I will not be ashamed.  
I hope that someday someone will listen to me, to 'us'.
What are we waiting for?  Won't anybody help us?  What are we waiting for?
We have stood up...we are trying to fight the enemy...won't anybody help us?
noura Aug 2021
It is the mundanity of the act,
of envisioning your hand gently wrapped around the copper kettle.
Obstinately gripping the pen, while you wring a sheet of paper dry for the right words.
You, cupping my face as if you were holding something precious.
As if I might slip through your fingers.
It is this devastating simplicity that obliterates every shard of my being.
A brick wall, left at the mercy of a gleaming sledgehammer
that is determined to turn everything to dust.

I see your hands everywhere.
In the haze of steam and shower curtains,
the lines dragged in velvet throw pillows,
the cloudy smudges left on a glass of water.
They run faint paths through my hair, their touch ghosts against my eyelid.
If I stare long enough,
your palm is right there, pressing into mine.
Silver cuts through the air and delivers a redundant blow.
The dust scatters once more.

You did not leave a hole
the way everyone said you were bound to.
Empty space cannot exist without everything that surrounds it, yields to it, forgives it,
validates its gaping hollowness.
Empty space is a needle and thread on the dresser, a sellotape dispenser on the desk, a container of soup left on the doorstep with a get-well-soon scribbled on the lid.
Empty space is where you can see remnants of what once was whole.
The faith and conviction that bit by bit, you will put your fragmented pieces back together again.

The nothing you left was so thick and suffocating
that it permeated every room,
filled my lungs to bursting capacity and left me gasping for more.
Its sickly, bitter fragrance danced relentlessly in my nostrils,
as though my suffering was the sweetest symphony ever heard.
It waltzed until I could feel it rising in my throat and leaking from my eyes,
twirled until my head spun.
The nothing you left insisted on making its presence known my every waking moment
and then gleefully romped its way into my nightmares.

It was so quiet, though.
A resigned quiet, like that of the ****** swinging in the gallows,
when everybody holds their breath to watch the pendulum sway.
The crossbeam glistens with last night’s rain and
they trudge back home, muttering to themselves as the dust settles beneath their feet.
I sink into sheets creased by your fingers and watch it sway.
Alin May 2015
living particles
made of color
hang light
on top of an unknown
mountain

I do not have any space of time to cry
because I maybe miss you
there you stand right in front of me
at a distance that I can see

a clearing made for us is made of us
a stage of well fit grass circling us

you stand strong long hair maybe
a suit resembling iron
a suit that is a part of your being

you a warrior from timeless time
you came to me now
to stand across me

your gaze
that I surrender to
validates each particle
I am composed of

at rest is I innocent
pure balance
of peace and of joy
magnetic is our love

all the static is you
airy converting all the temporary is I
your endless silent gaze is now
our unconditional presence
made of a posture of standing is one
Hanson Yang Sep 2018
Toney talking **** ever was been at relative action: so this is what happens when i own ****
the game and the actual man that prones ****
talking **** like if it was actual that arms **** short for the factual
i've been underneath like i wrote the bible since like it was his "wonder feat"
You're a wonder feat till you understand like every plundered treats,
the E in Eden has you wonder feats repetitive like a tree grown demanding scars in roots like i was underneath: Playing me only gets you murdered  like actual feats cuz this ******* talking **** like if anything hurters like Obama to your hair mang like how you arose a gangbanger to man defeat
ir really was me mang startin **** everyday all confused everyday like if demand was me.
Cuz i'm all g man another ******* till i'm ever he stand
raise it like how magnitude backstabs left was she man commandin fleets
Raise it like how it passes all magnitude was hidden from know by praise of it's masses, cuz now i'm startin ****, startin **** with my claimed owner of kinfolks, disposing flows and all opposing with your chinblow; been smoke till i'm ******* up all your naturality as it was real in every returned K to the K-O chaos enlived flow the to the now chin mode to every kinsmoke.
Bleed mode like an attempt to **** your **** up with one need- blow of my established chin mode to discovered manhood in precision given of range.
I'm jacking up my A-O to every Kayo like getting my cigarettes jacked now asked for every parallel to mind of my females to enlivened envision of range
enlivened envision of rage
enlivened envision of hate
.....Thinking jacking me was or is ever the body neutral has every one of you and my kinfolk women jacking your **** like shittin you at enlivened in thangs
I'll be everything anything anybody prasing me like assistance in ranks to be given out perception to my women now to restrictive in thangs insisting the aim: right? right, yeah right it's right as given as range
the higher you go you know ******* well of it's enlivened discovery absolute like marraige in range that **** the lesser when you're rearranging the pain
talking **** been magnitude mang like the masses pretend hides **** before i was ever fake claiming lives before you would know ******* well that proof aiming was claimed
as if rhymes was the median:
I'LL **** YOU ******* TO AIM RANGE WAIT,
i'll get your *** craving for everything stolen in energy that i own for every *** that you're in it just validates your life justly justifies your claim to my aim range strength truthly you're only talking **** as hindsight of all desperate measures to the existance of all body. Raise it and be the man of learnt confusion to all hate and chaos as chosen path to the actual "levels HIGHER already like if all extensions was justly validating as all talk when i been spittin claim when i'm shitten remember me as when i am all talk when everyone smaller was all brought like hindsight perception.
Knowing me was all absolute in all talk like minest sight deception: I'll ****** you **** now you're knowing truth: true truest nature before i was ever you in being a faker; more like a being you know truest dreams as instinct before i was ever a ranker: I'll ****** you **** in complete pristine dreamed grabs at crutch crotch as aim range prankster even wankster as the holder of time,
space and time clean backstabs as you fist **** of every trip traps as a pristinely dreamed beings pretending underneath when all you are now are on top of every wonder **** if ever reupping the true as if you know what i am in reality before intercedence death cuz it was truly me: like reality this is all future to all your poetry actual renders a blank gaze of mine of wisdom as you write your blank page is actually what aim range explains space to what blank faced truly is at fake takes of what you've stolen in actuality reality owned envisions of me
like enlivenment only just visions creates in actuality ranks raised none enlivens but make ways as a holder of time ever remembers me none as the entity's won actual remembrance of me: lonesome to none to truthful beings who reject truth in reality was really ever to gain none sight to minest right ever to wrong surity might right sight.
i own **** what you are: like all small things in my stature of nature lived as holder of everything comes to pass, your only fault is visions of perfection in education given back to your ***. I'LL WAIT *******.....
A big, dark creature is the velvet landscape,
Perforated, so that tiny origins of luminescence
Freckle the breathing mountain’s gently sloped nape
And validates the distant city’s inner flamboyance.

The spine of wet tar, peppered with lustre,
Arcs the creature’s hunch of a back -
It summons me to the city’s sordid muster
To wean me of myself and to render its flak.

Instead, I think I’ll stay on the footed side of the nameless beast
Where I can soak in my tatters and be but my own, homeless priest.
Alluded to the Beatles and inspired by the most elegant hobo I have ever met.
Elise Dec 2013
cease and desist in your clockwork ways
I want to scream loud enough to break the glass surrounding you
I'm looking down from above
watching your lights flicker
on
and
off
as you open and shut your eyes
automated movements
searching…
searching…
searching…
error
drunk on influence
lies dripping from your mouth
you are automaton
repetitive movements
tapping thumbs
looking down from above
just like I am

cease and desist in your clockwork ways
if I was to push you in front of a car would you even take notice?
or look in a daze
it is a tragedy to be just "fine"
I want to be terrible
I want to be wonderful
I refuse to be anything in between
fine is not enough
you are not enough
stop walking in circles like they tell you to
if you have to keep walking walk in a square
hell,
go for a triangle

cease and desist in your clockwork ways
you are not cogs
or coils
or gears
or tiny ticks
you are bones
and light
and energy
and blood
and skin
and I could go on forever
you get the idea
so start acting like it
if I am a lightbulb let me be the difference between a prison and a blank slate
trapped in misery
trying our hardest to express
audio visually
the tiny flutters in our hearts
because it's the first time we've felt something

if laying on a couch validates your existence
lay the hell out of that couch
until you can't feel your back or your legs
but **** you're so alive and well
and if laying on a couch doesn't
then what are you doing?
stop walking
start running
validate your existence by breaking out of boxes
running towards the sun
if you need a reminder:
you are alive
and you should start acting like it

cease and desist in your clockwork ways,
human
for someone who needs a reminder that they are alive
She dances as my chest pulls forward,
Moving does my heart -untoward,
Swinging around, making a gesture,

Is that for me?

She sways my direction...
Validates heart’s inflection,

She’s dancing for me…

Heartfall;  she’s dancing, dancing for me,
Heartfall;  she’s dancing, dancing for me,

Our bodies a rhythm together,
Energy, excitement and pleasure,
Swing in closer, -a new gesture,

Is that for me?

Her arms round my neck, mouth to my lips,
Swinging her body, swaying her hips,
Our mouth's are together in an ellipse…

Heartfall;  she’s dancing, dancing for me,
Heartfall;  she’s dancing, dancing for me,

Heartfall;  she’s dancing, dancing for me,
Heartfall;  *she’s dancing, dancing for me,
E Townsend Oct 2015
Watching the exchange of two people in love
really validates the small percent of hope
I have left in marriage. It completely overshadows
the bad experiences I've seen between my parents.
You see how she absolutely lights up
when he talks, like the stars have arrived
after a rainy day. For those few moments
of seeing real love, I forgot all my cynical
views and desperately wished I had that exchange.
Hearing him say "This is why I married you"
after she said some intelligent remark about our
parts of speech work sheet, and her smile
spoke all the words unsaid. How so in love she still
is, with this man from their wedding ten years ago, and a kid throughout their ongoing journey. They are a story
so rarely told, and I want to shout to the world that love
remains alive.
I was in my linguistics class and my teacher's husband came in and posed as a student, and their energy played off so chemically explosive. When he was talking she was a beaming ray of joy. I hope to experience that one day.
Alicia Nov 2014
Your hands caress my skin as if I am the most delicate of flowers,
and your mouth retrieves the nectar from within.
You consistently lock eyes with me and express your love so willingly.
That you are so determined to give sweet love to me.
That you promise to do what God intended passionately.
And with that, my temple is yours.
Every motion, every ****** validates this for me.
The rhythm we create arouses me.
You leave marks on the most obvious of places so the world knows you've explored my canvas like Columbus.
Navigating your way from my neck to my inner thigh.
Moments so divine that I still get chills like the coldest day of winter simply thinking of the time we've shared.
And for some reason, you hold my body like you'll never see me again.
Maybe because it's clear that there's someone else.
I know this because at the break of dawn, the only thing I feel with my eyes closed and my naked body buried underneath these sheets with your presence all over me is the warmth of your body disappearing.
Maybe it isn't love. I'll assume that it was never meant to be.
Even with the sweet nothings whispered in my ear and
the vivid memories of you fondling me.
Every single time, you quietly say that you have to go, apologize for the mess you made and you're sorry about leaving.
The ****** escapade you were dying to experience doesn't suffice.
The look in your eyes says enough.
My body you so desperately wanted to see has done no justice if you leave when the sun begins to rise.
I wonder when I will hear the creak from my bedroom door once more, and your heavy footsteps going across my floor.
I wonder if you'll be reminded of how vacant this space has been without you, and how much my body yearns for more rounds with yours.
Sure enough, the next night you realize it was time to start over.
Time to give you exactly what you need.
I guess I confused lust with love making.
*21914
I wrote this on February 19th, but I tidied it up this evening. Enjoy.

@the_monAlicia
Audio: soundcloud.com/liciii/lust
Elfinmox Aug 2013
I care too much. About people. All people. The world. I understand too much. I understand why people say the things they do and why they hurt other people so very badly and why they think the way they do. I feel compassion for others no matter what they do. I love too much and too easily and too deeply. I love the world and all of the people in it. I see it so broken and all the things wrong with our world and it HURTS. It hurts so very very badly. There is a hole in my chest that is never filled and all the hurt and hatred and senseless violence, all of the killing and dying and hurting that happens every single day, it hurts. It hurts me so much.

I feel that I have to do something, I have to show people that we are all just people. That yes your neighbor may have a different opinion, or race, or gender, or financial situation, or ****** orientation, or whatever, than you, but in the end, we are all just people.

People, with all our differences and faults and strengths and little nuances and opinions and thoughts and emotions and friends and family and lives, all the things that make us so different from everyone else and all the things that make us the same, in the end, we are all just people. We are all human. We all have thoughts of our own. Feelings of our own. Lives of our own that others may come in and out of but where we ourselves are the only constant. We are the only ones who have lived our whole lives. We are the only ones who could ever explain why we hate a certain song or food or place or group or person. We are the only ones with the memories that trigger emotions. Some that we'd rather forget. Some that we avoid like a raging bear. Others that we smile at. Others that we seek. Others that we find reasons and people to remember.

All of the complications. All of the factors. All of the thoughts and experiences and feelings and indoctrination from wherever is what makes us the way we are. All the input from different times in our lives, all the lessons we've learned, we put together into one big patchwork quilt of OUR life. And that's the way we live.

But don't you see? This is all fine and good. Except when the hate starts. Someone is outside of the box of someone's life, someone violates all the rules they've learned to live by, and then all of a sudden everything goes wrong.

People get hurt. People die. People **** themselves. One person hurts another and beats them down and drags them through the dirt and makes them believe the horrible things about themselves things they are told. Their dreams get crushed. They become broken. So broken they feel that they can never get fixed. Can never get better. All of a sudden each and every one of us is completely alone, with no one who cares enough to pull us out of the hole we've been thrown in. And there we are. Lying broken on the ground in the mud and **** and the blood, screaming our pain, but there is no one there to hear us but the empty wasteland.

Everyday it's the same. For some of us the pain never ends. For some of us it is too much to handle. Some of us give up, for we see no other way out. Why live when no one wants you there? Why stay when you are told every single day that the world would be better with you gone, and the very person of you is WRONG?

CAN'T WE SEE WHAT WE DO TO OURSELVES?! CAN'T WE SEE THE PROBLEM IS NOT WITH OTHER PEOPLE AND HOW THEY ARE, BUT WITHIN OUR OWN HEARTS AND MINDS?! WHY DON'T WE CHANGE IT! WHY DON'T WE OPEN OUR EYES! ARE WE JUST TOO APATHETIC AND CAUGHT UP IN OUR OWN ******* THAT WE JUST DON'T CARE ABOUT SOMEONE ELSE'S PAIN?!

It can all so easily be stopped. If we could stop focusing on ourselves and start to focus on other people, on the world around us, on the way we treat others, on other's rights instead of our own, don't you think the world would be a better place? Don't you think people wouldn't die in the night, bleeding out onto their bed, alone in the darkness, and have it on the news the next morning, just another teen suicide? Does anyone who sees those news reports ever cry for the young life they never knew, and now never will know? Does anyone ever wonder what their life was like, that would drive them to suicide?

We like to be blind. We like to pretend that children aren't ***** and abused every day. We like to think that kids aren't dying by the hundreds because we are too fat and lazy to care. We like to think that girls are prostitutes because they're ***** and ****** and chose that lifestyle. We like to think that the safe little bubble around us is the only thing that exists. We like to ignore the fact that six year old kids are forced to **** their own people and families in war. We like to fool ourselves into thinking that war is justified and that thought the loss of life is terrible, the end validates the means.

The world is so broken and twisted, and we are the ones who made it this way. We are the only ones who can fix it. If we could learn to love instead of hate, if we could learn to accept instead of reject, if we could learn to understand instead of judge, if we could help instead of ignore, if we could all do our best to make the whole world, and not just our world, a better place, then perhaps we would have the right to call ourselves "civilized", and "progressive".

Could we all just understand, everyone is human. Everyone is a person too.
Allen Page Feb 2015
Jinx! You owe me a haggis!
Sheep! Sheep! Sheep boing!
I tried to connect the two.
I am glad that someone loves my discursive stuff.
I feel thrilled that someone validates me.

Tell me why again? Why why why not?
Did you mention socks? Why?
You’re a sock! Your face is a sock!
A pair of socks! I laugh!
You didn’t anticipate that one, did you?

I will nevar stop. Nevar.
Yes. An alternate spelling.
Hehehehehehe.
Be bold.  Be bold like Leeroy Jenkins.
Yas. Chicken music. Yas.

He was brave, he led the charge.
On monkeys and elders, what was our conclusion?
Monkeys are silly, elders are catnip.
I am silly.  This poem is silly.
Hehe. You know what I’m about to say next.

We must keep it a secret.
Sheep! Sheep boing!
Figure out what that pakis-ectomy is.
Yeah? Yeah? Well, you’re a pakis.
I guess that Wyatt Cenac
said it best:
I have to fool you.  I am fooling you.

Aeneas, Cooper, Pedro, and Boo.
They are all amicable with each other.
Pakis derives from an Ancient Greek root meaning "peace".
Martin Trahbeg Apr 2010
How is our life’s worth measured?
By offspring, actions, or wealth?
What are the components on the yardstick?
Worrying your value, affects your mental health.

If life is truly worth living
The joy and verve for life emits from within
Emotions are worn on your sleeve
Be at peace, and comfy in your own skin
  
Why let others conflict our minds?
External factors make us shout with dismay
Put them out of your head
Let Karma and intellect rule the day

Your peers will judge you behind your back,
Live with honor, integrity, and lack of spite
The value of your actions, not consciously rated
Know in your heart, you’ve done what is right.

Die with no regrets hanging over your head,
You can’t take it back when you’re six feet under
Years of life spent with compassion and service of others,
Validates your worth when torn asunder.

For today, live your life with an eye towards passion
Hold on to your ideals, use your heart for decision,
You’ll never go wrong with integrity and trust
You’ll grow old, and be free of ridicule and derision.
We’re the generation that
Validates its existence through memes Everyone can relate with,
Gratifies itself through likes,
Swiping a nod of 'count me in'.

What happened to the times
When two strangers would connect
Over nothing but a smile?
haley Dec 2016
Upon entering the vast crystal dome
we venture through the endless
that such vile creatures call home.

Before me, occurring a ghastly sight
of those cursed to these depths
are confined to the blackest night.

Embedded into the surrounding walls,
irregularity complicates the network
when one wanders the immortal halls

of a timeless place that captures its victims
to intensify the thoughts inside their head,
eluding the state of true mortem.

With heavy rope held agonizingly tense
woven within their eyes and mouth
blocking all intellection of the sense,

the creatures meander aimlessly forevermore
nervous and cautious of their movements,
bloodied and grimy from the soot-ridden floor.

I question my Lover out of curiosity:
“Why must these souls dwell in a daunting
labyrinth without physical perceptivity?”

And the Lover addressed sweetly: “My one and only,
Greed is a moral infection of the human mind,
be wary of the heart and the desire Lustfully.”

He then turned, and I followed him through
up to a Beast whom I would not dare test
for he validates the lack of your virtues.
a g Apr 2015
it's 2 AM.  you're sitting on the floor of your kitchen wearing the last shirt that still carries his smell.  there's an empty ben and jerry's next to you, mascara smudged down your face and stained in your finger's prints.  

     anything, i'd do anything for this pain to simply subside.  i just want
            this pain to go away.  please.


when we have this pain laid heavily our hands, especially when it's all that's left of our relationship, we say we want it to dissipate, but i don't think we do.  i think we're lying to ourselves.  if we really wanted the pain to go away, we'd erase his voicemail, throw out the tshirt, delete all the text messages, hide the journal punctuated with his name.  we'd avoid every sappy love song and every break up song.  his name would fade a little with every action, every step in the direction away from the failure of that relationship.  

but this isn't what we do.

we sit in his tshirt.  we say his name over and over again between midnight sobs.  we reread and reread and reread every last text.  we listen to the voicemail with shaking hands and a shattering heart.  we listen to the songs we sang in the car with him.  

saying these things hurt doesn't even begin to explain it.  

it's like your heart is on steroids and you can feel it pumping 24/7,
like your whole body is pumping with the loss of him.  
it's like someone put magic contacts in your eyes, and you see his face, his smile, his essence everywhere, reminding you of all you lost.
imagine pouring lead into your veins; it's that kind of weight.
it's like someone took a highlighter to your life and is illuminating for you in the brightest yellow all the times he would have been there, as if you didn't already know.

if you've ever seen an apple dipped in liquid nitrogen and thrown on the ground, shattering into a trillion pieces, that is a very good visual for how this feels.

i think we hold onto pain so tightly because it validates our relationship, friendship, experience, or whatever it was that has caused it.  everything in you hurts because it happened; it wasn't in our heads or our fantasy or our dream.

it was real.

but it's over now.  the good memories, the good days, the good hugs, the good smiles, are fading more and more with every breath.  our pain is all we have.  we aren't over that relationship yet; we don't want to, we can't say goodbye to that person or the end to the story.  

we try to battle the inevitable fade.  we grasp tightly onto the pain.  we aren't going to feel loved or made special or pursued by that person anymore, all that's left is pain.  all we have left of him is pain.  so we take what we can get - or rather - what we've been given.
Anais Vionet Jul 2022
It’s thunderstorm country around here.
They roam the boiling, hot, southern skies
on legs of lightning, like dark, angry trolls.

My Chinese roommate is impressed with them
because as menacing and mountainous and electrical
as they seem, through the trees whip and the rain
lashes - like special effects - no real damage is done.

Love is like that, a circus briefly coming to town,
that scintillates, palpitates, irritates or validates
- a carney-call with the urgency of a sale.
“Run away and join the show,” it whispers.

Love is both less than it seems and more than it is.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: validate: to “recognize, establish, legitimacy
(actually, now at present time juiced
well nigh high noon same day)

On this January nineteenth
tooth thousand and nineteen
dogged by an earlier notion
searching soul to glean,
(while at Collegeville Diner)
above place previously wrought
poem hammered from this peon
expounded possibly seen,

asper belated birthday
outing now I mean
to expound upon nagging , yet keen
existential question, sans what purpose
validates yours truly within skien
of terrestrial webbed wide world,
no...no...no not
simply pocketing green

backs (banknotes, legal,
tender, money, et cetera), but now bean
older, and displeasing lee not so lean
when just a slip (pre) youth decades ago
yea, that would be
when I hapt tubby a teen
with nary a concern,

nope not even to preen
myself much to the dismay
of my late mother, nay
no idea why lackadaisical, illogical,
and antithetical bee hay
vee yore prevailed, but more to the point
rarely when young and naive did stray
thoughts besiege my mind,

that LX vintage sketchy,
shady, and seedy gray
area bothered concerning,
hounding, pestering and fill lay
mignon noggin ready toboggan
any price you say
for this staged coached blarney
finding this mortal questioning... ray

zing meaning, purpose,
and underlying importance, gestalt, design...
of life more so today
meaning since recent past
also taking stock of
accomplishments from way
back, and feeling stymied okay
at a loss to delineate

any rhyme or reason
to shout hip...hip hooray
quite the contrary, which following
admission might appear cray zee,
but aye decry barely
living capped off with oy vey!
bs Jul 2016
...
Generic poetry
And a Father who left me

Generic photography
And a Mother who I believe loves me

Fake friends, expensive brands,
Shots of ***** on the kitchen floor
After fumbling around,
Trying to forget about the day that almost killed me.

But how can you die, before being born?
Sometimes I imagine myself trying to commit suicide in the womb,
On the 8th month my Mother was pregnant with me,
The man who never sat me on his shoulders,
Never made my family breakfast,
And never brought me in to 'Bring your Child to Work Day',
walked out of the door and carried with him all the could-haves of my childhood.

Silent panic attacks,
No one validates,
Because they are silent
And not screaming for help
The way my eyes do.

Meltdowns after medicine,
Throwing up,
Being too loud and too proud,
Never seeing past the bedroom door
Because the days were just too much for me to absorb.

Not knowing how to be grateful,
Because all I see is dusk
And dark
And fear
And no light I've ever known.
Butch Decatoria Sep 2018
Smart and as selfish as the Streets

Attracted to those in need and easy to leave

Validates those who compensates generously

Values worship on hands and knees…

Youth ****** eager to succeed in defeat.
Mark Toney Sep 2023
(Intro)
From her I get …

From her I get …

(Vs 1)
She validates my existence
Leaves me always wanting more
I just love her sweet persistence
Yes, she’s the one that I adore

From her I get …

(Chorus)
Action
Main attraction
Chain reaction
Satisfaction

From her I get …
Rainbows
Anything goes
All tomorrows
Only she knows

From her I get …
Laughter
Morning after
To the rafters
Ever after

From her I get …
Kindness
Color blindness
Love that binds us
To remind us

From her I get …

(Vs 2)
Days overwhelmed by stress and strife
My heart was hard my blood ran cold
You shared your warmth and love of life
That day we met when I struck gold

From her I get...

(Chorus)
Sunshine
Beautiful rhyme
Says she’ll be mine
All of the time

From her I get …
Romance
Rhythmic slow dance
Love at first glance
Taking a chance

From her I get …
Blessings
Effervescing
Love confessing
No distressing

From her I get …
True love
Say I do love
From up above
Fits like a glove

From her I get …

(Bridge)
If selfishness precipitates, love will evaporate
Throw caution to the wind then your life will upend
If selfishness precipitates, love will evaporate
How much better at day's end to be found kind

(Vs 3)
Knowing I’d be lost without her
Communication is the key
May God bless our love forever
Our three-fold cord eternally

From her I get …

(Chorus)
Action
Main attraction
Chain reaction
Satisfaction

From her I get …
Rainbows
Anything goes
All tomorrows
Only she knows

From her I get …
Laughter
Morning after
To the rafters
Ever after

From her I get …
Kindness
Color blindness
Love that binds us
To remind us

(Outro)
From her I get …

From her I get …

(Repeat and fade)




Mark Toney © 2023
9/2/2023 - Poetry form: Lyric
kaylene- mary Nov 2014
"My darling," he said, "I think we've lost our way. Take my hand, you're getting cold."
"I'm drunk and you're sad. Who's going to lead us home?"

The bottles been polished clean and his lips are still shaking. He said he likes to forget but can't, it hurts too much, and he has to sleep with the radio on. Daddy taught him how to shoot, showed him *******.

"I don't like death," he'd say, walking past the cemetery. "Why must we be so morbid?"
"Death validates life," I'd say, "And morbidity justifies the bruises on your bones."

He sighs."My dear, I fear you may have forgotten, we don't have a home."
Geno Cattouse Jun 2013
Perspective is a thing that I stalk....
Like The man atop the hill looking down
Like the man atop the mountain staring up.

You see,to me the immediate middle is the key
You see,the median is the road not the division.
You see,there is no existence sans harmony.
                                                        ­                  Friends, up creates down.      
                                                                ­          Left bears right.
                                                          ­                In validates out.
You see
I strive for the core.
the root.
the substance of being.                                   My father left a Tin man standing in the rain.
                                                           ­              My mother left a straw man pyromaniac.
                                                     ­                    My god left me.
I did not Leave him.
Not a true representation of my core belief..... Only for glimmering moments.
puer luna Apr 2015
i don't know if i'm phrasing this right but no one in my house validates my feelings; they always kind of brush them off or make me feel like i am irrelevant and don't matter and you know what? i think that is one of the main things that has ****** me over. i watch movies and tv shows and see how ******* compassionate the mothers are with their children and i have never once felt like my feelings even matter to my mother or that she even gives a **** about me or the relationships i have. just because i have only been on this earth for sixteen and a half years doesn't ******* mean i don't have feelings and problems or that i can't feel hurt or depressed or anxious or in love. that doesn't come with age, it comes with being alive. i am just as much of a human being as you are and it breaks whats left of my glass heart and she doesn't even care enough to get the dustpan and sweep it up into the garbage can.
Can you prove it,
Reality.
Even though me and you can persive the same thing,
That just validates what we are seeing in our
Reality.
could it be that reality is just a concept?
If so does the mean we can contest it?
Better yet best it ?
If you think you can you will.
Random thoughts of motivation hidden in a cloud of doubts
I've been doing this new thing
Every time someone laughs at my jokes
I exhale
Until now I didn't realize
I hold my breath as soon as words leave my mouth
And I can't breathe again
Until someone validates
That my breaths are worth it
Allison Dec 2017
Pulse:
There’s living and there’s dying, but worst is this half life:
this tap water dripping, slow molding of the

Mind:
It sells me lies about who’s right and wrong,
it validates my dogma but vilifies my

Soul:
That hunger that bubbles up and out my throat,
that sees myself in that wasted *** with that

Sign:
Maybe not a burning bush but a breakdown,
a point so low we used our last energy to let out this

ROAR:
Shake out your heart like a sheet;
take a torch to the hive mind and

Dance:
Spinning in an alley downtown in the rain,
the beat beats beats beats:

Love
is all that matters,
it’s all that matters now.
For a spoken word setting
SassyJ Mar 2018
Writing is a gesture that ties my pleasure
As people walk in and out after a search
For the luminescent touch of knowledge
And the manipulation they wear dares
To become the only monster they treasure
Myriads of erudition and contemplations
Of the human mind, of the human kind
Is it not the wisdom bestowed by academia?
The biased subjective assessments
The reduced objective indoctrination
The social constructions of the reality itself
Is it not the wisdom bestowed by academia?
Such a relative weighted in apollonian seams  
That makes doctors to treat ailments
That makes a judge to rule a deluded justice
That makes a teacher drill a curriculum
Is it not the wisdom bestowed by academia?
Which make us question creation
Which reduces the metaphysics to nothing
Which validates the seen and not unseen
They offered us schools, those glass rules
That brings scholars to warm the benches
Such cruel rues, after years of toil
And there is neither guarantee for jobs
Such a robbery, a dare of mere mockery
So watch those children, as they wear bags
And trek to school everyday, another dystopia
So watch those children, paraded and uniformed
And as their eyes are matted with a bright future
The reality of the future they hold is contrary
For loans will bear the apex of their ribcage
For jobs will become a rare commodity
Artificial robots and self-driven cars
Automated rackets and self-serving checkouts
The obsolete conquest of human labor
Shall time be the only resource we bear?
It’s eventual but ever so inevitable
A wonder it is this starry night,
Grace hearken close to me.
Forever looking on at my weighty plight,
Countless observers of my infinity.

From drawn sweater strings to rumbling exhaust,
This something follows me home.
It reminds me of all the longing lost,
And of my self-titled, empty tome.

From little laughs and midnight streaks,
I've learned to love my disappointment.
The ways of the world leave a future bleak,
No solace in any appointment.

From dusk til dawn I tarry not,
Lest I find myself stuck in place.
From day to day I search for thought,
To bring light to my now empty face.

I fear for all I have so far loved,
I fear I will lose them in my lies.
They won't understand my flight to above,
They won't understand me when I die.

Why can none understand this way,
Won't acknowledge that I choose life over fear?
What is there left that I can say,
That validates holding passion most near?

Forever and onward it seems to me,
That I will be running to find.
I'll be looking and looking for my final peace,
Until the end of time.
Isabella Nov 2020
Acknowledging jealousy
Only validates insecurity
But why pretend
To be content

— The End —