"viewpoints" poems
sometimes i wish
you'd see beyond
the color of my eyes
and the cloth wrapped around my head
i wish you would
think of me as an individual
put away my appearance
and regard me as a person
my thoughts matter
my ideas aren't all bad
i have opinions
and i choose to speak my mind
if only you would
listen to my words
and try to comprehend what i'm saying
rather than focusing on my accent
and the way my lips curve when i speak
the cloth on my head
does not rid me of ideas
it does not limit my mental capabilities
it does not lower my tolerance
*have a debate with me
spark a conversation*
instead of complimenting my smile
compliment my mind
instead of assuming that my beliefs are enforced upon me
*ask me what i believe
ask me what i value*
tell me what you base your morals on
*question me
give me counterarguments
talk to me*
instead of staring at me
and making biased assumptions
already concluding who i am
and where i come from
before you've even
said hello!
i am not just the color of my skin
i am not just the size of my thighs
i am not just the design of my clothes
i am not just the price of my purse
i am not just the pattern of my headscarf
i am not just the length of my nails
i am not just a body
i am a mind
i am a heart
i am a soul
i am my theories
i am my thoughts
i am my perceptions
i am my opinions
i am my viewpoints
i am my objectives
i am my purpose
i am my outlooks
i am my intentions
i am my reasons
i am my perspectives
i am my choices
i am my principles
i am my ideologies
i am a thinking, feeling, living, stimulated, motivated, inspired being
i've got a world inside of me
take a look see
before you choose to pass judgment on me.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 11:52 AM UTC
heads turn
and minds churn
as the old white knuckle
brings life to the board
facilitation (and procreation!)
become heavenly fit
for the
paradigm day
jitter men
and podium seniors
sit cocked
in the back row
front runners
bust a brain box
(their lines frayed
and edges portrayed)
truth makers tread
the center stage
(with a new and improved
product portfolio)
an evolution
of human spirit
mobilized
in apparent
perfect form
sound bites
and titillating calls
echo from
the main hall
a wise man
cringes
on a poorly
timed exchange
mind sets moving
quid pro quo
intuitions
and convictions
viewpoints
and revelations
all fun
and fundamental
(or so they say)
depth charts
and zodiac principles
speak to the masses
abbreviations
refreshers
and timeless
lifelines
*we’d like a peak
inside of you*
a glimpse
of your point of view
the turks and talking heads
speak of
grand design
and inclusion
class complete
(interpreted at the 7th sneeze)
please check those thoughts
and insights
the final answers
are coming
(satiric)
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 1:54 PM UTC
You change my mind like a massive industrial factory.
Because flowers.
Supposing friendly.
What if therefore.
You crush my forethought in your mandible machinery
For after yellow.
Beside a lake.
Through crimson humility.
I melt under your molten supervision on the grandest scale
Melodic franchise.
Hypothesize sunbeams.
And if replace me.
You reorient my viewpoints on your conveyor belt of
liquidated mellow
jurisdiction.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 2:33 AM UTC
I sit alone in this connected world,
separated from the selfishness I see spreading
amongst everyone around me
with everything to gain by filling their hands
before filling their hearts,
by silencing their inner voice
and shouting out loud.
It must not be hard to live life in the singular,
letting words and sounds crash against guarded ears and eyes.
The true trouble starts when a mind becomes a collective,
letting in every thought, every notion,
leaving judgment to fend for itself.
It becomes harder to keep your identity in an overflowing sea of mediocrity
from not allowing any idea to rise above.
How does one feel empathy when living life in the former,
cast away on an inner island?
Is it a feigned truth to goad the soul
into cooperation with a strictly selfish mind?
Is it the weight of expectation crowding out viewpoints and virtue?
I can’t tell because for once in my life,
I stand staring at this alien concept
and see no wisp of familiarity floating in our shared air.
So my lungs seize at this ether bereft of merit, and I collapse.
Only to wake in a suspended reality,
one where the naïveté of my mind
rationalizes the incongruity of the external world
long enough for me to delve within.
In these cloistered rooms of society,
I find sparks without kindling,
wasting away into ash,
I find whispers discarded from distracted diaphragms,
but most importantly, I find recognition,
recognition of this middle ground,
neither reached nor acknowledged by that strange outer land.
It is in these discarded thoughts
stowed far beneath consciousness that I seek my own truth.
Jun 26, 2012
Jun 26, 2012 at 1:24 AM UTC
*The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints.
We spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less.
We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time;
We have more degrees, but less sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, but more problems; more medicine, but less wellness.
We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too seldom, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.
We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.
We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.
We've learned how to make a living, but not a life; we've added years to life, not life to years.
We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor.
We've conquered outer space, but not inner space.
We've done larger things, but not better things.
We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul.
We've split the atom, but not our prejudice.
We write more, but learn less.
We plan more, but accomplish less.
We've learned to rush, but not to wait.
We build more computers to hold more information to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication.
These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men, and short character; steep profits, and shallow relationships.
These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare; more leisure, but less fun; more kinds of food, but less nutrition.
These are days of two incomes, but more divorce; of fancier houses, but broken homes. *
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 7:27 AM UTC
Fire up your talk boxes
Life’s such a bore
Until we discover
Today’s Rage du Jour
Do we have to turn Red
if they’re feeling Blue?
Does screaming more loudly
make it any more true?
Is it fate we must hate if
They want to make it great?
Must our faces turn redder if
They want to build back better?
What if we hear different voices?
And what if they make different choices?
Do we choose to lash out
always feel justified
As our fears turn to rage
and we’re bloated with pride?
Who among us sees clearly?
Whose judgment is never astray?
What great one among us holds just the right viewpoints
to keep cyber pitchforks at bay?
He said sinless stoneholders
could fire away
Yet there’s rocks hurling
constantly every which way
Can’t we sew up our lips
and ***** up our our ears
and realize there’s much
we can learn from our peers?
It’s hard to see it through our spite
But life is rarely black or white
Whatever happened to nuance?
When did we lose the gray?
How did this digital mob get the power to police every last thing we say?
There’s a whole vibrant world in 4K
We’re all welcome to come out and play
Let’s not label them Other
When they’re truly our brother
Only Kindness can show us the way
Jul 22, 2022
Jul 22, 2022 at 10:00 AM UTC
i am a damsel in distress
not the fairy tale kind of an unknown princess trapped in a tall tower hidden from the world by their evil stepmom, waiting for their one true love to save them, but the modern kind
just like the princess i need saving from an evil stepmom but this modern day evil is in a different form.
this modern day evil stepmom is not a person but people and their mindset/views on women
i need saving from the stereotypes people have created about women
how we are weak, “moody”, and just an object with a pretty face
i need saving from the fact that i don’t have the right to my own body for what i should like is determined by balding, middle aged white males who photoshop every picture ill ever see of a woman
i need saving from the fact that women have their own catagorey when it comes to jobs.
if we were in an office job setting stereotypically the male would be the boss/CEO and the women would be his assistant/secretary, but in reality the roles could be reversed for womnen can do exactly what men can do
i need saving from the fact that women get paid less than men, and yea its a $0.22 difference but thats not what i need saving from i need saving from the fact that women arent viwed as equals to men
i need saving from the fact that women cant wear what they want for they will be cat called by men who have no personalities
i need saving from the fact that it is my fault for being sexually harassed because my skirt was too short or because you could see my bra strap, like really?! COME ON! all women wear bras its nothing special!
now i bet youre all wondering the really inportant question…
who will be the one true love to save me and all women?
trick question!
its yourselves we are the one who must save ourselves by changing our viewpoints and spreading the word on why others should change them too
so then eventually there will be no such thing as a modern day damsel in distress
but for now there is
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC
Summon us the rain yet
With the drums that we recall I
Am the corresponding return
Beautiful lunar and thunder to
A rhythm where all seasons of the
Different viewpoints even ugly in the winter
Are holding up the Universal land
An outer space pond having
Baptized resurrection of acceptance in a chosen
Life-cycle that changes all of the
Symbols through your travels which are heavy.
Changes also equal to soul art
Echo countless metaphors of the
Mindless croaking bond.
Teach in us the thanksgiving of
Heaven's harvest and every single thing
That brings a drunkenness and promise of
Choristers with hymns on stone
For a prolonged life is in and of
What solid reawakening has fortuned deep within upon this earth.
Renewed as well returned I
Carry lucky charms and find that I am
Known in other words bound
With the Spirit to
An ancient stand
That is encountering such places found under
Forces much much before the
Egg existed in a frozen
Past lone part of all creation much much before the thorn
Grew from the rose bush you were jumping by
Far down the brook of evolution where the
Message that you ribbit warm or cold
Is soon discovered befriending those of heart and hearth
As we all listen to your lessons and
The magic song revival that you sing
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
People wonder, how can Christ, be all things to everyone?
Without the proper perspective, Truth can be missed.
So carefully consider some ideas presented here,
before these spiritual concepts are mistakenly dismissed.
To the BUILDER, Christ is the Sure Foundation.
To the ARCHITECT, He is the Chief Corner Stone.
To the GEOLOGIST, He is the Rock of Ages.
To the SCULPTOR, He is the Living Stone.
To the STUDENT, Christ is the Incarnate Truth.
To the PHILOSOPHER, He is the Wisdom of God.
To the BANKER, He is the Hidden Treasure.
To the PREACHER, He is the Word of God.
To the DOCTOR, Christ is the Great Physician.
To the SERVANT, He is the Good Master.
To the THEOLOGIAN, He is the Author of our Faith.
To the EDUCATOR, He is the Great Teacher.
To the JEWELER, Christ is the Pearl of Great Price.
To the ARTIST, He is the One Altogether Lovely.
To the HORTICULTURIST, He is the True Vine.
To the FLORIST, He is the Lily of the Valley.
To the STATESMAN, Christ is the Desire of all Nations.
To the CARPENTER, He is the Eternal Door.
To the PHILANTHROPIST, He is the Unspeakable Gift.
To the LAWYER, He is the Lawgiver, Advocate and Counselor.
To the BIOLOGIST, Christ is the Life.
To the ENGINEER, He is the New and Living Way.
To the TOILER, He is the Giver of Rest.
To the SINNER, He is the Lamb Who takes all sin away.
Our Christ is a multi-faceted personality,
Who has something for everyone who comes to Him.
Therefore, we should continue to rejoice in Who He is,
by offering heart-felt praise through songs and hymns.
Author notes
Loosely based on:
Col 1:15-18; 2 Tim 2:19; Eph 2:20; Isa 26:4; 1 Pet 2:4-12;
Matt 28:20; Cor 1:24; John 1:1; Heb 12:2; Jer 17:14; Matt 19:16-17;
John 1:3; Matt 16:13-17; John 3:1-2; Matt 13:45; John 15:1;
SoS 2:1; Hag 2:7; John 10:7; Cor 9:15; James 4:12; 1 John 2:1-2;
Isa 9:6-7; John 14:6; Heb 3:1-4:13; John 1:29
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
This poem is not meant to serve as an all encompassing list of professions; for example, here are a few more viewpoints not mentioned:
To the BAKER, He is the Living Bread.
To the JUDGE, He is the Righteous Judge of all Men.
To the NEWSPAPER, He is the Good Tidings of Great Joy.
To the OCULIST, He is the Light of the Eyes.
To the SOLDIER, He is the fortress.
To the CHRISTIAN, He is the Son of the Living God, the Savior, the Redeemer and the Lord.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 8:39 AM UTC
pontificating elegiac
stalwartly asymptomatic
positing logical phalluses
into fleshy vices
seeing virtues in viewpoints
seeing in the eyes of beauty the beholder
the calculating and crafting of a sapiosexual
positing calculations
into social craft
slightly autistic
whatever that means
a breed of abnormals
set against the world and themselves
bound to lose
doomed to win
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 1:45 AM UTC
There's so much at every level.
To see a crowd,
what is its purpose?
A figure in that crowd,
study their expressions & reactions.
Learn their name, meet their parents.
Discover their secrets,
all of the beautiful complexity of
a human being.
All the emotions & viewpoints & passing thoughts
the familiar, indescribable motions of
all the joints in their body,
never to be mimicked.
To fall in love,
or to simply love,
with an individual for every aspect
even those you don't care for;
that individual
in the crowd
in the city
in the country
on this planet
in this universe.
A mere statistic.
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 10:55 PM UTC
An empty drinking glass is pressed against a wall; amplifying the voices on the other side. My ear is pressed to the words, ”outside is a secret key” - I can honestly say, “I hear…" Your words, idealizations, sentiments, selected scrawls of graffiti-type promise and viewpoints echo through the wall. Over and over. Championing outsiders…
Are there WALLS WITHIN WALLS? Can we walk through them? ARE THE WALLS ERASABLE? Will the walls tumble down? Will the walls polarize? WHAT ABOUT CRACKS IN THE WALLS? Can they hear? Can we leap over them?
DO WE build them where everything and anything follows and flows?
DO WE build them where something's nothingness tethers vapors with souls?
DO WE build them so molecular melodies of light and dark can collide unopposed?
Are these word walls of dust? Can we move them? Can you angle between these walls? Will the walls speak a wealth of quiet surprises, poems, and meditations? Do walls give birth to improvisation?
Now some of these walls, in their moment are with no rules, self-constructed, circling dramatically, and might prove more resistant to erosion. These are often troubling walls, no voice, no strength of decency, no laughter, which place freedom at stake. That and survival. One can be easily manipulated or yanked by an image of the truth swirling in the brick blackness of the wall. Discomforts relish now. Walls such as these are very deep-rooted and passed on for generations. Yet even those barriers eventually give way once we read the super fine print etched into the wall - a word salad of B.S., idiocy and hypocrisy.
Reach for spray-paint and enlarge your wall… maybe it enhances your world now with colored aerosols of wall portraiture's that capture rebellion and mirth. So many Walls, AND SO MANY QUERIES…
I heard a poem say, “Step out from behind one (wall) and FIND YOUR REAL SELF” – or maybe it whispered “jus walk through that door in the wall.”
Your tightly strung trampoline of words has provided a springboard for me to bounce freely over the many walls we build around ourselves.
by "ooznozz"
Aug 10, 2017
Aug 10, 2017 at 9:06 PM UTC
I remember that first taste
of that first sweet college poetry class,
how much I wanted to learn,
how much I learned,
how much I didn't learn.
I remember that moment
when I realized that
drone
is an onomatopoeia too,
not a comforting
blatting
wah-wah-waaah
of Sally Brown's first grade teacher,
or the baritone perfumed bath
of the religion teacher I hadn't yet had,
but the droning
in slow motion
or a drone
in slow motion,
buzzing, humming, droning by
in slow motion
too slow for the doppler effect
to dopple effectively.
I remember that first smell
of fear hanging in the air,
sharing in that cabaret of pain,
wearing hearts on ripped and bloodied sleeves,
baring our souls to demons who ate them for snacks,
understanding that the stacks of bodies
and broken minds
littering the halls
were the real lessons,
not the importance of breathing
or knowing Linklater from Viewpoints from
Organic Synergy from
how to get up when
a fat rock and a catwalk
in slow motion
pin you
in slow motion
to the north lawn
in slow motion
too slow for the doppler effect
to dopple effectively.
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 8:56 PM UTC
The savior
The perfect partner
The dominant
The free spirit
The fiancé
The parental substitute
The anarchist
The sweetheart
The nice guy
All of these aspects of myself
Yet none of them are fully me
These are the roles I've fallen into
In order to match my various partners
And though all of these may be
Different components of me
None of them feels quite whole
I do not feel whole
All of these personalities
Exist on a spectrum of time and space
None interacting with any others
Each signifies a distinct point in life
Each has its own home
It's own experiences
Attitudes and viewpoints
Behaviors and habits
Yet what do I do when
Two of my contextualized selves
Decide to overlap?
When my ex who knew the fiancé
Moves back to town where I live
As does my person
Who's heard stories of the others
But who only knows the nice guy
How do I begin to heal when
I do not understand what is real
And what existed solely for others?
How do I continue to grow
When the fiancé is fighting restraints
And the nice guy is exhausted
The sweetheart does not exist
And the anarchist screams for revolution?
They seem to be fighting each other
Just to have a chance to breathe
A chance to take the wheel
A chance to control "me"
Yet who even am I?
Are all of these selves fabricated
Or are they hyperbolized aspects of me
Connectable like puzzle pieces
Into one beautiful picture?
The problem is
The picture I see is not beautiful
I'm trying to be nice to myself
But all I see and feel is darkness
I am an abomination
An evil person who cannot be trusted
A dark soul inhabiting an empty body
A person who is not a person
A human with a lack of self
It's almost like I'm not even alive
But even death would be a relief
So I can finally end the confusion
And stop hurting people along the way
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 3:40 AM UTC
We're probably very different,
You and I
But maybe I don't want to feel disconnected
When our viewpoints don't match
When I become separated from you
There's more to life, you see
Than focusing on our differences,
What separates us
When we disagree, we disconnect
From each other
I can feel it
You can feel it too
Don't tell me you can't
I've heard those words
Enough to know they aren't true
So please, when I say
Let's not discuss politics,
It means
I only want to remain close with you
I don't want to be pushed away
So now, rather than re-hashing old news
Like politics, or rather,
What separates us,
Let's explore what unites us,
What brings us closer to each other
Within the beauty of where
Our commonalities lie
Because as I said,
I just want to feel close to you
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
I listened to an ignorant man speak today, A bias, racist tirade. My ears and heart stung with each syllable of hate he uttered. Is it not sad that in a day such as ours, that persons such as these still exist?
I was incensed at the mere possibility that this fool might think that I approved of such viewpoints and prejudices. But yet, I said nothing to him, I only listened to his goings on and empty justifications as to why he felt this way.
In what light then am I left in? My silence; did it fuel his racist diatribe, Or… was he a tool so that I might use it as inspiration and yet another insight to write this small but nevertheless important piece?
The tools that come to hand come in many different forms. Our inspirations, motivations come from those areas that most times we abhor. Our outrage fuels us to action, I often wonder after such experiences, if not for them then what would I write about?
Oh yes, the Golden field’s of Autumn evenings, the lover’s hand across my chest and brow. The kindness of my fellow man, and his sacrifice. These reflections of pure light.
However, there are moments when one must write of the darkness to rid themselves of it.
Do I justify the actions of an ignorant lout who speaks hate and distrust? Never, But I find myself at an impasse of conscience understanding, Is this hateful thing the vehicle through these words of its own destruction?
Perhaps an inflicted death blow wielded by a poor poet’s pen, to envision a time when thoughts such as these do not exist? What then will the poets write of, what then will be the inspiration, Is it a sin to write of these things? My fear of perpetuating the cause of this discourse weighs heavily upon me.
Is the poet, the writer, addicted to these heartaches and dysfunctions of his fellow man,
No I think not, We are witnesses to the coming of age of this world. In our lifetimes we will walk but a short mile in it; and while here I for one will share such things.
I will battle these questions in my own time and pray for peaceful tongues and cleansed hearts. Cleansed of prejudice and hate.
Jan 6, 2011
Jan 6, 2011 at 6:11 PM UTC
Don’t be afraid to take a big step, you can’t cross a chasm in two small jumps. David Lloyd George
Chasm
The definition of chasm can come in two forms
1. A deep fissure in the earth, rock, or another surface.
2. A profound difference between people, viewpoints, feelings, etc.
Taking a big step is needed to cross both.
To get over both
and fetch for sanity.
To reach for the furthest branch
To take the leap
To jump and release.
Plummet towards the earth.
Lose all sense of reality
Master containing hope.
Just don’t let go of that rope.
Dangling from the tree of life
Channeling the strength to fight
No other human in sight.
Hindered by the gift of design.
Hindered by the thought of this lie.
Desperate to forge tonight
Hold my body up to the light.
This law we cant defy.
Is this all we’re willing to try?
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 7:41 AM UTC
Disaster & heartache, but it doesn't stop there,
it's thought of & preached, but who really cares;
the poor, the rich, the white boys & thugs,
we're all the center of the joke to stereotypical punks;
but if you reach to the bottom & search for the meaning,
all this bullshit's based on fixations & ludicrous teachings;
we follow their viewpoints just to prove that we're able,
but the "American Dream" still isn't stable;
poverty & exigency run like the rest,
like the men in the sky, with bombs strapped to their chest,
If you believe them, you're already trapped in their game,
They say you've got personal freedom, yet you're all raised the same;
nobody wants the reality, but they've defeated all hope;
when alliance is offered, the conversation is broke;
we spend all this time on building up "life",
we forget the meaning of whats wrong & whats right;
few still have givin qualities, hope they hold on til death,
cause others were proved cowards when faced with the test;
Unlike the hundreds who fight for our rights,
when they offer you honesty, you turn out the lights;
sincerity at its finest, benignant and pure,
while some just watch, others establish a cure;
but to think, thats only a nick on the board,
what bout the billions needed, but forced out to war;
but we let it all go, **** it never happened to me,"
allowing yourself to only feel what you see;
thats cowardly, what if the next to go was a friend,
would you blow it off, step up, would you defend;
like dictators in the past, civilizations reaching the end,
but that doesn't stop ignorance from reeling um in;
all the lies and propaganda is their key to success,
i laugh at the fools who fail when faced with the test
Kylagoodson-
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 3:55 PM UTC
You struck a chord the moment you entered the vicinity,
Captivating all that crossed your path,
The stride in your step coupled with the pride held in your respects,
Unified by the reverberance of your allure enchanted most,
She was not fooled by the glee celebrated by the free,
Naïve she once was only to awaken to the taunts of the mistaken,
She exits from all viewpoints,
Holding a guarded heart with precarious intent.
Apr 9, 2021
Apr 9, 2021 at 8:44 PM UTC
As wires round the world get lighter and thinner
Your news scroll feeds you various homicides,
From desktops at noon to plasma at dinner,
The auto-cue scrolls through this week’s most viral.
The network fail to mention the other seven billion
Who kept living their life devoid of such sinning.
Disquiet on your perch, picture your pleasure:
Hopping alone, around your enclosure.
The window slides up, wind ruffles your feathers.
Beak to the bars, you're helplessly tethered.
Yell 'til you're heard, ’til you’re hoarse and unkempt,
Yell 'til the neighbours are mad and hell bent.
Step back to your pedestal, tapping your feet,
The rhythm you summon traverses the streets.
Nearby inhabitants sit watching their screens,
Warn-out, occupied, unfulfilling their dreams.
Tip-tap-a-tip-tap-a-tip-tap away the evening and next day.
Now you live vicariously through social media,
You cannot stop tweeting, lonelier… lonelier.
Connections you make get quicker and quicker.
‘Life is the greatest’ upon appearances,
You pick and you carve a residual image;
The best fools fool themselves into submission,
Post exponentially, build on your rhythm;
Second life, third face, prosodic yet speechless,
Your diary now echoes, empty and featureless.
Stare at your screen, silent and grinning;
Hive mind rewired, this story needs spinning.
Forget losing face, that farcical demeanour.
The needle wobbles on your false life fever,
As sunlight exposes where your cage is broken,
The tether is loose but you're past noticing.
Shared knowledge free of charge, constantly flowing,
Ignore others' viewpoints, or pleas to come in.
The glass in the window is brilliantly glowing,
There's fire outside that your posts have been stoking.
White noise, connection lost, you're no longer hosting
That multi-channel, fibre-optic, bandwidth expansion.
Untether your Ethernet, the cage disappears
Find sanctuary outdoors when quiet is near.
The caged bird tweets devoid of all reason,
Fooling itself about its own lack of freedom.
May 10, 2019
May 10, 2019 at 9:15 AM UTC
It would be awfully presumptuous and disrespectful of me
To assume
That I know and understand everything
(For even if I studied one thing for my entire life
I still wouldn't even come close
To knowing everything about that thing)
Or that I could fully understand you
(You and I
Are two different beings
With two very different viewpoints
And for me to assume
That I could see as you do
Would be quite ignorant)
However
It is equally presumptuous and disrespectful of you
To assume
That I am incapable of understanding and knowing
(In fact, I already know quite a bit:
I've been studying up
And though I'm still a beginner
And there are some things I don't quite get yet
I still understand a lot)
Or that you know everything about me
(Again, you and I
Are two different people
And I see things that you don't see
And for you to insist that you can read my mind
Would be the very definition of patronizing)
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 10:16 PM UTC
Allow me the pleasure of my demise.
Lethargic release is all that we seek.
Leaking down upon our infantile mind.
Isometric viewpoints of a hanging.
Never before, and never again, we'll
eventually fade into the dusk.
Even my stories shall soon find grave.
Death is a shadow, looming in our space.
Illogical proof that it's all for naught
Sign point towards these truths we hold.
Yet I continue to appreciate
Our innocent moments of reserved,
Unbeknownst feelings of adoration.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 12:30 AM UTC
I'm not sleeping tonight.
I know if I tried, I'd fail
So instead I'm thinking of you.
Cataloging you in my mind.
Simple things: favorite colors and foods
Deeper things: experiences and viewpoints
Deep things: do you notice when the moon glows?
I've got most of the first section down, I think.
The second will need time to fill.
The third keeps changing.
The third is most important to me, you see.
What color do you think music is?
When you see the sun
Do you think of power
And creation and destruction
Or do you think of skin cancer?
When you eat
Can you feel your taste buds celebrating?
Basically, do you notice important things?
Do you see what some people don't care about?
Because I care.
And your catalog can't be finished
Until I know.
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 7:18 AM UTC