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Finding Me

Sun, 09/11/2016 - 22:38 -- sdua869

People constantly opening.People constantly closing.

You don’t understand it do you? I am struggling to find my identity.

My heart is overwhelmed by my head however, they were once in serenity.

I used to feel content with myself even if all of the puzzles pieces weren’t put together.

Now with my puzzle pieced together, I don’t feel content with myself, perhaps this is a bellwether.

No matter how many “prestigious” awards I earn, I don’t feel gratified.

No matter how much I try to fit in I am always pushed aside.

Beneath this veil of nerdiness, I have a broken heart, and I feel my limits becoming more eminent.

I am slipping from this pinnacle of the mental Mount Everest.

As I turn back to reminisce or remember the basic things, it takes me a while to process.

My soul is being trapped in this dungeon of skin and bones, manipulated for the pleasures of my mind.

The mind is simultaneously fluorescent, and dark, like a Ying-Yang relationship, causing all of my life’s problems

Soul…is…gradually being wrought to make computations and spew out information, not to be a true person.

I am fading into obscurity under this dark masquerade of a void.

The grand scheme of things doesn’t care a thing about what I am and what I will amount to.

After all, God has to influence 7,000,000,000 other people, like they are voodoo.In the sands of time, I probably will not create an impact at all.

I will not even be the last entity to live in this Universe, just Black Holes, sucking in the whole vacuum of space to cause nothingness, and our worlds will fall.

Darkness will always be victorious, as the Universe began with it too.

I race against time, but I will never win.Time is unique as it is a meticulous but a destructive yin.

The time bomb is ticking. And tocking. I am trapped in this ego-driven mind of mine. I am drowning in the oceans of enigma in this Universe.

Will I ever be a success, or just an egotistical braggart who will be recycled into another loser with a curse?

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Delusional

I've dreams of where nothing but joy, love, and knowledge exist.

Followed by a sudden wake and a burst of reality.

The crop that you grow is the one that you step on.

You may not see it, may not acknowledge what you do.

 

But I do. And I burn with hatred for you.

Hatred for the fact that you don't reap what you sow.

You leave it there to grow alone.

Out in the cold, no comfort from the warm hearth.

 

How careless are you? Or perhaps not careless at all.

Perhaps you don't see what you do.

Small possibility that is though, for you.

 

Perhaps it is my fault, for giving you the seed.

Entrusting you with its needs when you were not yet ready.

When I was not yet ready.Not ready at all, to see what would become of its lonely soul.

 

Perhaps, I am just delusional. A dreamer. A cloud.

Floating above reality, but then crashing back down.

As heavy rain, and tremendous thunder.

Turning into destructive hail to all that are under.

I believe I should stop, wake up, and see.

That not all reality, is a dream.

Just as not all dreams, are what they seem.

Comments

Cumulus

Sat, 11/22/2014 - 13:44 -- bkdeets

Location

 

 

I am a cloud…

 

 

Clouds are deceptive.

Imagine walking through the wide valleys or rappelling down the white cliffs.

The soft puffs invite you to lay down on them and watch the world from above.

The myriad of caves and crannies look ripe for exploration.

 

But, we know the truth about you cloud.

 

We know you are simply a ball of evaporated water floating in the sky taunting us with your façade.

If we were to try to walk on you,

we would fall right through.

 

When you rain, we see who you really are.

 

The more it rains,

the smaller you get

and the faster you shrink,

until you are a cloud no more, just the rain you always were.

 

 

…waiting for my time to rain

Comments

all of these moments are fleeting

the way the light in the morning sometimes turns golden and reflects off the sides of houses

the vastness of the universe

leather bindings of old books

thunderstorms after hot summer days

names carved into tables 

and the persistent feeling that this is your chance to create something that will last

the smell of oil paint 

and the crashing of waves

late night conversations 

knowing glances

unspoken conversations

and something close to fate

never wanting to leave anything unsaid

fire pits on cool nights in the summer

setting marshmallows on fire

and singing to tiny dancer in the car

the sound of the orchestra playing down the hall  

the ticking of the clock

the falling leaves

lit candles on a birthday cake

people coming and going 

a continuous reminder that everything is temporary

everything is fleeting

a continuous reminder that you and only you can give all of this meaning

that you and only you can attempt to grasp at these moments

and that you and only you can do something remarkable with them

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This poem is about: 
Our world

Comments

The Only Light

Sun, 06/08/2014 - 17:05 -- ReneeB

Darkness within, Light outside

The solo light gleams

Giving this lonely room some warmth

But not enough

These blood red walls seem to cave in

Exposed with no shade

But it shines, still

Like a candle in a hurricane

A vague flicker occasionally occurs

Yet unyeilding

Although the darkness surrounds it

Slightly ghastly

My Only Companion

Fending off the blood curdling illusion

Diminishing shadow monsters

Repelling dark savages

BOOM-BOOM my young heart thuds

As fast as a jittery rabbit

Running from the horror

Of the memories within

 

Comments

Once I saw a butterfly......A free verse poem

Once I saw a butterfly,

It had beautiful colors like a beautiful rainbow.

Once I saw a butterfly,

Who drank nectar like it was water.

Once I  saw a butterfly,

As it flew from flower to flower.

Once I saw a butterfly,

Who hid from the rain shower.

Once I saw a butterfly,

Who came out when the rainbow shined.

This poem is about: 
Our world

Comments

This is How it Should Be

Mon, 07/29/2013 - 13:53 -- Brehlie

Location

 

Can you look me in the eyes,
Without blinking?

Can you talk to me,
Without speaking?

Can you cut the tension,
That seems too thick to slice through?

So many questions,
What will you do?

Don’t blink,
Study my face.

Every wrinkle and curve,
Use your finger to trace.

The tension recedes,
See?, it’s just me.

Now relax because,
This is how it should be.

Comments

Words and Worlds of Violence

Collective consciousness

is much easier when defined.

Much thought.

Contemplation is for  blind.

 

We move ever closer to claim what seems to shine.

Fine sands slip back to the top.

Provoking a disease.

Pop.         

   
                         

Propped up against a page.

Where ink is filled with rage.

 Letters don't get past their cages.

Phases of humanity fly by in a second.

Yet, still we are in the first stage.

Infants, not in time or creation.
 

We are creation. We are creators. We are deviation. We are damnation. Tempted with not more than one savior. Parchment on which we display our behavior.

This poem is about: 
Our world

Comments

Two voices one song

                                          

stereotype

both

reality

HI my name is stereotype                                                                                                                 

 

Hi my name is reality

 

We both change people’s ideas of another

 

I created the theory that all muslims are terrorist

 

I created the reality that all muslims aren't terrorists that in fact they are running from their homes to escape the terrorist in their country

I am the thing that when you think tug you think of a black man or a black teenager in a gang

 

I am the reality that there are more caucasian  tugs on the street then blacks or mexicans

I am what makes you think a pregnant teenage  girl is a whore.

 

I am the reality that the majority of pregnant teens were raped.

 

WE  are what makes or breaks a person.

 

I am what put a label on blacks during the war on drugs. I am what labeled them as crack mothers,whores,I am what labeled their children as crack babies .I am what created their worst nightmare.

 

I  am the reality that there were equal caucasians and blacks using the drugs at the time.

I am what make people think all caucasians like starbucks

 

I am the reality that all races like it equally

I am the thing that makes people think that  If Indians had united, they could have prevented the European invasion.

  

I am the reality that Tribes were too different culturally and lived too far apart to fight together as a cohesive unit.

 

We are what create and stop wars.                                                            

 

I am what makes you think all  male mexicans are drug lords

 

I am the reality that 75.6%of drug lords are woman and caucasian and black.

I am what makes you think the only way for a female to be beautiful is to be skinny and rich.

 

I am the reality that what makes you beautiful is your personality.

I am what makes you think when you hear american you think Boastful and arrogant.

  • Disrespectful of authority.

  • Drunkard.

  • Extravagant and wasteful.

  • Generous.

  • Ignorant of other countries and cultures.

  • Informal.

  • Insensitive.

 

But in reality americans are kind and smart and are barely making it thru the day without stress and that most americans are immigrants from another country.

 

We are the stereotype and the reality one can not work without the other we are what makes or break a person we are the judgers.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

From a Christian Girl

Wed, 04/15/2015 - 11:30 -- lyssaoh

So I’d like to formally introduce you to the man that saved my life

He’s very near to my heart

Pretty average

Except for the fact that he, ya know

Conquered the grave

Gave the blind man sight

He’s the one who destroyed the hate

But wasn’t too late to save me too

 

I’d like to really introduce you to the one I call “Savior”

He has overcome the behavior of what the world does to “haters”

And I’m dreaming of the day where when I say his name

He gets all the glory he deserves

He gets all the honor in the world

 

I’d like to formally introduce you to the man that saved my life

Giving blood for a cause that was much less than our right

I’d like to show you the nails that pierced his skin

Show you the laughter

Show you the end

And show you the sting of death in his eyes

And ask you why he pushed us out from in front of the bus

When we were so worthy

We were so worthy

 

I’d like to introduce you to the man that gave me life

In the dark days,

He brought in the light

In the hopeless nights

He was the one to put me back in the fight

 

I'd like to introduce you to the man who fought that fight

He said, "I've got you covered"

To the shunned and the lost

Extending all the way to me

Not stopping at my feet

 

Please allow me to introduce you to the man who changed my life

His heart is bigger than my shame

Bigger than my disasters

His lessons are greater than the persecution

Greater than the confusion

Greater than the loss

Greater than everything I have

Than everything I am

 

So I'd like to formally introduce you to the man who saved my life

Without further ado

Jesus Christ

 
This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments