"verbally" poems
He smiles so bright like he has teeth of gold.
Projecting the reflections of his own inceptions.
I'm done grieving the words that once killed the inner me.
Verbally abusive was the past that didn't last.
He shattered my hope like splintered and shattered glass.
As far as the moon is to the sun is he to me.
I can picture his face but to me he's faceless.
His voice is like the echo of a stranger.
He salts his words with flatter,
it doesn't matter, they are tasteless.
His speech is drenched in hypocritical lyricals.
Transmissions of emphatic subliminals
transformed him into an emotional criminal.
If people would obey the limitations of their naive believes.
Maybe they would know that he calls me once a year...
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC
There once was a black man... Old at heart, he fought verbally and accordingly with bold words, which abbreviated and arbitrated great art! He spoke of activism. Not just racial, and economic racism. He fought against demonic injustices for you, yes, made me see. He stood for principles of non-violence. Acknowledged corrupt government
mileage, European knowledge and college. A philosopher, teacher
and preacher as well as a civil rights leader. When he spoke his words of fire indeed chiseled and inspired. Causing some to conspire and also perspire! Born January 15th 1929 in Atlanta, Georgia. Named in honor of the German protestant Martin Luther. Bachelor of Arts
degree in sociology. Making a mark in doctoral studies, systematic theology. June 5th 1955 This King married Corretta Scott in Heiberger,
Alabama for many to see. Proceeding with four children: Yolanda, Martin Luther the 3rd to be! Dexter Scott and Bernice to increase the peace. Despite the European police, the movements and stressed
protests, the silence, ****** and racial violence. The segregation and interrogations in force, instead of integration of course. Black mishaps, lack of differences in relapse perhaps! Plagiarized and slandered, demised by some of the wise. Accused of communistic ties. Blinded
by others’ eyes and of our world’s twisted lies. Montgomery, Georgia
bus boycott, 1955 was the year. However, forever in disguise, our fear of tears was apparently adhered. From here to near, also all those dear. Mere letters he wrote, from Birmingham jail I quote! From the slums, some of sums, hail and prevail! A creation prevailing into a deriving and thriving nation. Mr. King’s vision of a dream, mission,
opposition, optimism and truism, on our wars, welfare and more. I suppose this sounds honest and fair. Mr. King’s theories and worries in emotionalism, evangelism, humanitarianism, racism and socialism. Nobel Peace Prize won in 1964. Regretfully, you may have heard of this before. Government conspiracies and indecencies. Assassination
and discrimination, allegedly, by James Earl Ray. On April 4th, I
almost choke, because for him, his blood did soak. Some thought this **** was a thrill or forced by will. Others still procrastinate in hate! However, forever Martin Luther King was and still is one of the late greats.
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 12:53 PM UTC
Life has many milestones.
Each bringing a significant change to one's life.
Whether that be a birthday, a wedding, a child.
But it's difficult to admit the sadder milestones that we carry with us.
However these negative moments also have a significant effect on us.
This is my list of milestones I hate to admit.
But they have impacted me tramendously.
It's time I released them so I can look ahead.
Molested by a boy at age 4.
Countlessly ***** by my sister starting at age 5.
***** by my therapist at age 7.
Beat by my sister throughout childhood.
Bribed and verbally abused by my step father to condition me to keep my issues to myself.
Traumatized at 10 by my father and his ex due to a domestic abuse situation.
Almost drowned from my first public panic attack at age 16.
Harassed by a man at a concert at age 20.
Endured the hell that relationships always bring.
Attempted suicide twice at age 21.
And a man attempted to **** me at a party last week while I was intoxicated.
I know I'm not the only one with these difficult memories.
And knowing I'm not alone will always be my comfort.
But I'm letting it all out;
purging out the evil so I can be releaved.
And now my hope is to heal and become whole again in the healthiest way possible.
I can overcome these milestones.
I know I can.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 12:33 AM UTC
Go choke on your delusional idea of love. No does not mean “change my mind” No does not mean liquor me up, get me good and drunk till I can no longer verbally reject you. My slurs of terror and anguish as I try to shove you off of me. Did it make you feel good? Did you feel like a real man- To take what was mine. Did it boost your ego? You had no right to sneak into my bedroom and steal my girlhood. I was 13. Chaos seeped into what was a serene life. The torturous and endless cycle continued for 3 god **** years. What man is so weak? So weak that he has to take what he feels he’s entitled to, from a little girl. I can never get back what you stole from me. They couldn’t find any evidence to prove the assault even happened, but the trauma can never be erased from my mind. The skin replaces itself every 7 to 15 years, so scientifically speaking your hand prints are still eminent on my skin. This flesh and bone is no longer mine. That home I took my first steps in, was no longer mine from the moment you creeped in. But you do not own me. I can still recall the first time I frantically searched for a sharp object in all the clutter, just trying to make myself distasteful to you. But you ignored the blood dripping from my thighs, dismissed the warning signs as if you were colorblind. Nothing could stop your calloused hands and feeble mind. Years later, your pressure still stands heavy on my heart. I labeled myself as damaged goods. But I am a ******* work of art. And I can’t undo what you did but I can use my voice to speak on the pain you’ve caused me. To raise awareness for those still suffering. You did not stunt my growth because I am in full bloom. I will not let you define a single part of me. I will grow as you regress. As you destruct everything you come in contact with. I will touch people and I will make jaws drop. I will be someone. Just watch me.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
dear, you cut me off mid-sentence.
for all my skills, techniques and terms
here's a thing i can't find a way to convey.
a narrative even beyond comprehension to it's protagonist
a girl without a simile or metaphor applicable?
somebody to leave me laconic, short in syntax, unstructured.
will we discuss possessive pronouns now?
for in subtext, i am the possessive one.
i'm so lacking verbally
but i'm sure you'd understand it contextually
to punctuate: i can be the ellipsis, the implication of my omissions
but you're in my text as the most eager mark of exclamation
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
It sickens me to know how individual's religion means so much to people. Is it that important? Various religions caused boundaries between people? REALLY? REALLY? Why so? As far as I know ; islam, christian, hindu, buddha etc. is pretty much the same Not practically, but they are quite the same. I mean, if your friend is a muslim and your another friend is christian, that doesn't stop each of them from being friends with each other right? Sometimes, people take things too seriously, it's like they are trapped in their own box and they refuse to go outside the box.
I've recently watched a video about hijab terrorist by fouseytube, it literally made me cry because the guy was verbally abusing the girl in hijab but the by passers mostly didn't do anything to stop him. Like seriously! What planet am I living in?! Come on! It's 2013 and people still have religion issues to talk about. If things remain the same 10 years from now, I solemnly swear i'm giving up on life. Every individuals have their own beliefs, so if you can respect that, than you are in a good circle of society.
Not a poem, just expressing my inner thoughts
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 12:13 PM UTC
We live in an endless masquerade
Dancing to the same song in the
Same clothes but we change one thing.
We change our masks after every song
And we hide our true identity from the
Other guests at this masquerade.
We hide ourselves from our friends
And we hide ourselves from our family.
We hide ourselves from the most important
People at the masquerade: ourselves.
Every time we put a different mask on
We become someone we’re really not
Because we want to be that person or
Because everyone will like us if we’re
That person and not our true selves.
We change masks to hide the scars
Of our past and the pain we feel now
Sometimes people will like us if we
Only show the good and not the bad
Because the bad hurts not only us but them.
We were bullied when we were young
By our “friends” in school or at the park.
They called us names like *** or ******
Or push us down the stairs or into lockers
Or they call us fat because we are not skinny.
They call us names because they think they
Know us but they really don’t because we
Wear masks at this masquerade even when
We are bullied to hide our true emotions.
We wear masks because of these scars.
We change our masks because we don’t want
Everyone to know what we do or how we act
When we’re home with our family or friends.
In the masquerade we are friendly and nice but
At home we abuse our spouses or kids or friends.
We abuse them verbally or physically
Because we are drunk or we lost our jobs.
We scream at the top of our lungs because
That’s the only way we know how to relax.
That’s us when we’re not at the masquerade.
We lost our best friend from high school
Because he or she decided to commit suicide.
That was in the past but it felt like this morning so
We change masks to hide the pain we are feeling
With every passing second because we miss him or her.
Our world is an endless masquerade without an end
As we dance the dance of hiding our true identity from
Everyone we see with every change of the masks but
Our song is still the same. It’s the song of heartbreak
Because in this masquerade all we feel is pain and sadness.
We lose our true selves with each mask unless we,
With the help of someone, remove our masks and
Put an end to this never ending masquerade so we
Can live our lives the way we want to…as ourselves.
Until then, we dance the dance and change the mask.
Welcome to the Masquerade.
Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 10:21 PM UTC
I abuse words verbally like my voice is Bobby and the dictionary Whitney/
Like a literary hyperbole properly arranged to explain this deranged brutality perfectly/
Force the English language to work for me like a particularly dark time in history/
Optimistically take the tongue twister trickery and aggressively attack a vocabulary vocally and personally/
Not physically but a barrage on your psyche, almost psychedelically/
Use words medically, like a surgeon I expertly plant thoughts whispered softly but assertively/
Moving letters like chess pawns to express thoughts masterfully and creatively/
Gruesomely grotesque but gorgeous thoughts written down beautifully/
You can't help but hear the perplexity of mythoticly placed words with comradery/
An oddity with the audacity to raise the bar and up the capacity/
Because what comes out of me has to be exactly what you see because it is me/
Not just a part of me but all of me/
I'm not a fallen tree sitting in the forest silently, quietly all by my lonely/
It's just the opposite actually and factually/
I will attack with a dialect so violent you violently retract causing you to react cowardly automatically/
I don't even have to lift a pinky, leave it stinky/
Let my words linger there in the air like **** smoke, thick and sticky/
Periodically come back to peek and see if you've figured out the mystery and found the key/
One that'll decipher decisively what it is that I've let out of me and spread to all humanity/
I could never have planned it, see, it had to happen naturally, organically if you will/
And not to build it up falsely but I honestly, back then, didn't have the ***** to let it out of me and it cost me considerably/
So now this mastery I hold of word delivery bestowed to me gets jotted down feverishly/
With an intensity equal to none inside of this ******* century, can't censor me/
Got a consistency that forces me to constantly cross the border of insanity repeatedly/
Time only to watch my talents as they literally wither away for all of eternity/
Such a tragedy to see such agony but please, no apology brought on by sympathy/
Just let me be as I drift farther out to sea to a place you'll never see/
To let these words mold me into someone you could never be/
©2018
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 4:00 AM UTC
I know a girl that got pregnant at the age 14. When she turned 15 a month later she had her baby. When she saw her baby girl for the first time she was so happy. The way the baby looked reminded her of the baby's father. When the baby's father saw her for the first time he cried because of how beautiful the baby was. He knew right then he had a responsiblity of another life. He knew he had to show his daughter the right way to live her life and so did the baby's mom. Well that happened just not the way you would think. The child had to go through alot to learn what to do and not to do and know how to live her life. She had to learn the way that was the hardest way she knew. She had to see her mom get taken away from her so much and she would be cry histarically for her mom she would kick the police and bite them to be with her mom. She didnt want her mom to go away from her. She hated having her step dad around becuase he was always so verbally and physically abusive to her mommy. She would watch her step dad hit her mom and leave her bruises. The little girl got abused when she was little by her biological dad twice. The first time she had to do a report and that is it and then went to fostercare. The second time she did a report and then went to the police station to get pictures done of the proof. Then she went home and went to school the next day. While she was at school the police came to talk to her and take more pictures. Then 2 people took the girl to a fostercare home and she spent 5 days there. While she was there her mommy was in jail for drugs. Her mommy was a drug addict and didnt want to come and get her. The only reason she did was because the little girl was going to be in perminant fostercare. If her mommy wouldn't get her. Her mommy and family would never get too see her. All this still haunts her but her life has gotten amazingly better. She has a job and is going to school and is going to graduate in 2012. She is a very determined strong independant women and hard worker. She loves kids and loves her parents alothough they put her through all that. She loves her whole family and would do anything to make them happy. She will protect them and take care of them. She also has 5 sisters and 2 brothers. she would take a bullet for them each and everyone of them not matter what she will always be there for them. Even if they do something she doesnt agree with or bad she will still always be there for them. That is what a true family member does for her family.
Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 5:53 PM UTC
I honestly think I would be a lot happier without my family.
I constantly get put down when I am with them. I am constantly building my wall when I am with them and I make sure that my mask would never come off. I sometimes get verbally abused by my mother. I constantly get verbally abused and physically abused by my brother. My grandfather constantly expects me to do more than I can emotionally do. My grandmother constantly puts me down. The only person who doesn't ever bring me down is my aunt. My family is toxic to me and I am waiting for them to realize that.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC
I have fears – they are very real to me. But contrary to what the some may think, my greatest fears are not rejection and abandonment.
My greatest fear is that everyone will continue to turn their heads while victims are screaming.
My greatest fear is that survivors will express exactly how they feel, whether verbally, or acting out, and they will continue to be invalidated by being told they need medication and therapy in order to control their behavior, thereby reinforcing what they learned as children.
My greatest fear is that victims will continue to be silenced by therapy, or numbed from medication, and the clinicians, the researchers, will continue to ‘theorize’ and develop treatment that, in the long-run, is not helpful because they, themselves were NOT abused and have no idea what really should be done.
My greatest fear is that survivors will continue to be lab rats in the development of treatment that is not helpful, they will continue to drop out, time after time, and they will continue to self-harm, ‘repeat the trauma’, and possibly commit suicide because they believe no one cares.
My greatest fear is that the statistics will grow and no one will do anything about it because they do not know what to do. These are the facts:
**A report of child abuse is made every ten seconds
More than five children die every day as a result of child abuse.
Approximately 80% of children that die from abuse are under the age of 4.
It is estimated that between 50-60% of child fatalities due to maltreatment are not recorded as
such on death certificates.
More than 90% of juvenile ****** abuse victims know their perpetrator in some way.
Child abuse occurs at every socioeconomic level, across ethnic and cultural lines, within all
religions and at all levels of education.
About 30% of abused and neglected children will later abuse their own children, continuing
the horrible cycle of abuse.
About 80% of 21 year olds that were abused as children met criteria for at least one
psychological disorder.**
And this reflects only what is reported. Imagine what that percentage would be if all of the unreported cases were included.
And of the millions of children that survive the abuse, many grow up to be adults who are able to put it behind them, succeed and present themselves as an acceptable member of society, and many of them do not. But what are we DOING about it? When will people stop turning their heads? When will we finally stop, look and listen to these children being abused and to the adults who were abused as children?
When will we, society, decide that child abuse, and **** and ****** assault are important, and affect millions of lives every year, and that it can be just as deadly as cancer. When will we finally stop whispering and turning our heads and actually face it and do something to stop it, and effectively treat those who ‘survived’?
I hope it happens in my lifetime, and I hope I can make a difference!
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
I can't quite wrap it around my head
**** polishing hobgoblin
Gobbling hot fudge banana split sundaes
topped with ***** cherry toppings
What I'm looking for
Just on the tip of my tongue
Just the tip
I can almost put my finger in it
*On it
Oops!
A slip of the lips
Verbally retching
Wretched word *****
Armed with an armada of double entendres
Sensationally double penetrating your ear canals!
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 7:57 PM UTC
They hailed
and prostrated on the dust
as the monstrous jeeps passed.
Chants of praises
in loud native phrases
all for one man with deep pockets.
White man would look and say,
" Africans "
Black man would look, smile
and shake his head.
We say Nigeria is distressed
We say there is no money
We say all our leaders should face the firing squad
We say alot of things.
Churches are increasing,
Spiritual leaders are prophesizing,
Intellectuals are holding conferences,
Analylists are investigating,
Ministers are budjeting
and yet nothing is changed.
Still that black man on
the presidential seat wants
a second term.
Another term of nothingness.
I know everyone deserves
a second chance,
but ruling Nigeria
isnt a dice game.
We are in a state of nature
where every man is a danger
to the next.
Even body parts can not be guaranteed
to remain in one piece,
even in death
because of these ritual get-rich quick individuals.
Just like a mathematical equation,
Nigeria's solution
is " no solution ".
But, because there is no answer
doesnt mean it can not be solved at all.
I would not be the first to write about Nigeria
nor will i be the last,
but let history record
that at least i verbally cared.
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 4:45 AM UTC
the breast
the mother
is able
to keep.
the healthcare.
the train
lazily
unassigned
to freight or passenger.
the repressed memory
I think I have
of my oversexed
split
personality. that I verbally assault
with my better
puppet
hand.
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
I wish it was easier for
people to forget, if things left their
mind as easy as they let
them in, tough skin
wouldn’t wear thin
as easy as it is right now,
my past is full of imperfections
and bad decisions, leaving unstitched
incisions beneath the brink of sanity,
but who’s isn’t? every time falsities
start, my mind races
with my heart to contemplations on
when to finish, they tattoo the past
of others on their insecurities,
fuelling the fire that burns a hole
into respect and reputation,
creating a vicious cycle
of revenge and envy,
each gossip verbally vomited
into naive ears pulls the marionette
strings of perception into the road normally
taken, two roads may have diverged
at a yellow wood, but when the ignorance
burns yellow to ash, the road less taken
seems blocked, so the next time you hear
something about another, don’t be too quick
spread the word, the game of
telephone can get a little distorted when
the next phone call
you get is that they
were found hanging from
a rope.
MJB
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 1:37 AM UTC
All this criticism, persecution,
Hatred, scorn,
Thrown towards us,
Two women,
Two men,
Immoral relationship they say,
Against God's word,
That's not the way He wanted it,
But one woman, two men,
Two women, one man,
Nothing's wrong with that,
16 year old teenage girl sleeping with the married man,
Nothing's said about them,
And if something's said, it's done in whispers,
Rumshop or evening gossip,
But me,
Harsh words are thrown my way,
No one cares about the tears they cause,
But when the woman down the road slept with my ex-husband,
I deserved it because I did not do enough to keep him,
They say,
But when I had a one night stand with the woman from the other town,
Words were thrown my way,
Why?
Because when I have ***
There's no product formed from the substrate,
Or because when two products come together, there's no reaction,
Othan than multiple ******* caused by erogenous pleasure,
Or because I use toys,
And you need none,
Or is it because God made Adam and Eve,
And destroyed ***** and Gomorrah,
But he did not make Adam and Eve and the next door neighbour Steve,
And last time I checked he was on the merge of destroying Nineveh.
You say we destroy the definition of marriage or family,
But the contraceptives you use contribute to Global Warming,
Which sounds better?
A home started by a relationship like mine,
Or an Earth that's on the merge of dying?
They say,
That relationships like mine add nothing to society,
But relationships like yours cause fatherless homes,
Contributing to prostitution and gang wars,
Or multiple abortions before the age of 25,
Talking about my acts of erogenous pleasure causing no reaction, no creation,
But relationships like yours cause abortions,
Destruction of life, right in the middle of creation,
You call it abortion I call it ******
Termination of life,
So who's the criminal?
But because of the sexuality placed upon me,
I'm persecuted,
I'm scrutinized,
Verbally abused,
And people like you are easily accepted,
But don't forget,
I'm the product of a heterosexual relationship.
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 10:49 AM UTC
Life is not easy like almost everyone thinks it is. My mom always told me that life isn’t easy, kids just have it easy. I didn’t believe her, I fought with her all the time, and sometimes it got physical. I hated living with my mom, and I wanted to have my own rules, like almost every teenager. So I started leaving and going with my friends, and running the streets all day and all night, not going to school, not even caring what I was missing, I just knew I was free. I had no rules, no consequences, and nothing going for myself.
I was a goody-goody, I did the right things, I went to school, I didn’t do anything to harm myself. I remember those days, and I thrived for a do-over. I've heard things, that I wouldn't dream of repeating to my mother. I've seen things that no other person should have to see. I've seen people doing things that I prayed every night, that I wouldn't get caught up in. I worried that I would make all the wrong choices, and mess my entire life up, beyond return. I thought I knew what I was doing, but I guess my mom was right. School had no value to me anymore. I didn't want to be in this town I'm supposed to call "home”. I didn't want to be anywhere. I bluntly admitted to my mother that I was contemplating suicide.
My mother made me move with my dad in Buckfield, and I went. I went back to my moms for the balloon festival. But, two days before the festival, my dad made me come back to his house. I told my dad that I was going back to my moms, him and his girlfriend freaked out. They started restraining me from leaving, by grabbing the collar of my shirt, and therefore choking me. My dad pushed me to the floor, sat on top of me, shoving my face into the floor, and was screaming “What kind of drugs are you on?” I’m going to be 100% honest, I have been verbally, emotionally, physically, and sexually abused. I’ve been slapped across the face by my mom’s ex-husband, on multiple occasions. He’s almost given me a concussion, from shoving me against the wall. Like I have said, life is not easy… Life is not fair. But, had I not been through everything that I have been through, I wouldn’t be the way I am. I may have gone through hard times, a lot of them at that, but it’s made me strong and independent. I’ve had some really good friends who support and love me, I have had really good family friends that have helped me be who I am today. I am now really close to my mom, I am home all the time, I go to school all day everyday. In the past couple months, I turned my life around. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. Life is not easy that way, you need school, you need friends and family. As much as you may think you don’t need family, you do. It’s is what helps you get through your everyday struggle.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 8:17 AM UTC
Depression, Depression the feeling of emptiness always a challenge to fill it with happiness. One of my favorite songwriters is Nick Drake his somber yet powerful lyrics about not be able to connect with people and depression really helped me in times of personal trouble. I was diagnosed very early on in my childhood with depression I started reading a lot listening to music looking outside my window watching the other children play knowing how I would not be able to connect socially. When my parents divorced I realized that my life began to go in a downward spiral then I discovered Nick Drake. I felt connected to him in some way as if I was a incarnation of him. When I listen to his music I feel the same sense of hopelessness the same feelings of isolation. At times I feel stronger for going through this permanent pain but then I think to myself what of my future. That question races though my mind it almost like its making me a restless ghost during those cold dark nights. Through my high school years I still felt the same isolation with people as when I was a child. But the big difference was that I didn’t place a big smile on my face when I knew everything was not alright. This time I expressed my feelings in a more mature and realistic way. I started to write a lot in my spare time I usually wrote a lot of isolated characters trying to find that source of happiness that would free them of their personal pains. Once I wrote a short story about a girl that I fell in love with being a huge fan of F.Scott Fitzgerald I described the main character as the girl all the boys want but can ever have. With a combination of Nick Drakes lyrical style and F Scott Fitzgerald’s plot structure I wrote a love story that defined my inner feelings that I couldn’t really express with verbal communication. Sometimes I believe when people socialize verbally it establishes a more meaningful connection but for me developing socializing socials wasn’t so verbal but it was with writing and listening to music where I developed a sense of identity that was a real morale booster to continue living life with the aspirations of success and personal happiness.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
I didn't have anything nice to say,
But my lips kept moving anyway.
I am not a violent person,
But I will verbally punch you in the throat.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC
Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. Let me start by saying that there's no need for the exchange of pleasantries, no introductions are necessary, I'm just here to verbally deliver a quick update memo on the progress being made daily. I know you're all busy people so I'll try to be brief and get though this quickly yet thoroughly. There will also be no time for questions at the end. Let's begin...
I've reconstructed the way I think and see, scrapped the old me
The lies the devil sold me, told me I was a nobody and I bought into it completely
It forcibly held me down, face to the ground and from that angle everything is ugly
Tears slowly crawled down my cheeks to their final resting point, silently they turn the dirt muddy
But see, I went from a tragedy to a medical anomaly as I reversed the lobotomy
With the regrowth of the proper anatomy I ultimately but unnaturally went from an mental amputee to winning endurance marathons easily
It's amazing how quickly road blocks turn to speed bumps, almost instantly
They may slow me down but getting over them is no longer a problem for me
Eventually they will transform entirely into simple mile markers that I pass by on the daily
This path, this new journey will get me to the place I was suppose to be originally
Finally, after thirty years I'm looking forward to seeing some new scenery, being a part of this life changing movie
And with me I've got my two favorite people, Logan and Apphia respectively
They bring out the best in me, their love and belief in me drives me
They make me wanna be the best me I can be and opened my eyes to my true destiny
See, I thought life would be the death of me but truth be told it's a blessing bestowed to me
The rebirth metaphorically into this new family has restored my faith in humanity
I'm not used to this smile I feel on me, this is crazy, this must be what it feels like to be happy
©2018
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 12:47 AM UTC
I grew out my beard.
I grew out my stomach.
My ears ring randomly.
My eyes see things differently.
I speak or say less. I move in silence.
I sleep in when I want.
I haven't touched razors since my return
nor rifles since the field ops.
I've grown in maturity mentally.
I've grown insensitive verbally.
I've grown to miss the uniform
and pride of belonging in a brotherhood;
I miss my extended family.
I miss the people, not the troubles.
I miss the gym, where others alike
flexed invisible muscles.
My days once had routine,
pattern, structure and rhythm.
Weekends full of workouts, worship, and beer.
Weeks full of work, blood, sweat, and tears.
I've grown in experience.
I've regained freedom as a civilian.
But the transition has been a grueling process.
Yet, I've grown to be grateful nonetheless,
as not everyone gets to go back "home" ...
(remember the fallen) ...
However, if I'm honest, I don't think there's ever
an actual adjustment...
[I'm growing]
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 9:55 AM UTC
So many writings and descriptions of it,yet no satisfaction..
Verbally its undefined..
Its something to live out,
Its only true when lived.
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 7:06 AM UTC
She and I exchanged disdainful glances
across the parking lot. The verbally brash
invitation she gave me at 10:30 two nights
earlier from a low-riding car resounded
in my brain. She wanted our graduating class
to get together and sit awkwardly around
a campfire while a few reminisced
of homeroom and half days back in high
school. And as the last few embers glowed
like residence halls, she would clear
her throat and bash college. She’d denounce
the curriculum, professors, and parking spaces
then praise the days of hurrying through carpeted
hallways and freshmen traffic. To see our classmates
laughing with hands outstretched to the flames
would bring a smile to her summer-chapped lips.
But we’re no longer classmates.
We’re just seventeen people trying to live our lives
outside the confines of Galeton High School. Sure,
we’ll bite our tongues and fake smiles every now
and then, but we’ll never be more than superficial.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC
Words are words but once used verbally they turn into pain....
I never understood why you hated me so much...
Why are you so angry at me why must you treat me that way..
Do you forget you&me; are related same mom same dad
but yet i get treated like im a stranger to you
hate.. love... but once im gone you'll cry some tears
not for long maybe as they sing a goodbye song
you are suppose to be my mentor..
not make me hate you
but know we are out of time as im watching how you cry over me dying ..
why now that i am gone show love ???
when i was on this earth it was like i was invisible
feeling like a prisoner yelling show me some love
but know we are out of time because i am gone
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 1:06 AM UTC