Time doesn’t care if you beg or you pray..
It slices the hours and steals them away.
No bargain, no mercy, no pause in the chase..
It carves out your future, erases your place.
Each second you squander is gone with a grin..
A thief with no conscience, no loss, no sin.
It won’t write apologies, won’t grant reprieve..
It takes what it’s owed when you dare to believe.
Stop whining of chances you swear will arrive..
The clock only honours the ones who survive.
Stop mapping a someday that never comes true..
The moment is dying, it’s calling for you.
Time doesn’t wait and it doesn’t forgive..
It’s now or it’s nothing, decide how you’ll live.
It circles, it waits, it will cut you in two..
Take hold of your moment, or it will take you.
I'm surrounded by people I love, but still, it feels like a cough,
a cough of blood, which is violating and breathtaking.
All at once they break down, crying and screaming for help,
but I'm always late, I'm lucky when the blood starts turning brown,
I feel I'm bleeding down like vampires, they get high every time I cry.
All the people in the world screaming and shouting my name,
all of them sound the same, now I feel the sharp pain,
my heart, my brain, it won't ever be the same,
the panic, the frustration, take me down,
I'm drowning like a dove being shot, no,
My brain pulsating, my heart slowly breaking and melting apart,
like the candle I once held to make me feel again,
a long text with no words, no words to describe what I felt,
I will gain strength, but what does it take, does it mean losing myself,
who am I, will I ever know, could I be the dove ready to float,
or will I be the raven dark and dead, never able to live the life he hadn't had.
Life's a paragraph.
Love comes in parentheses.
Death ends. Period !
On waking from sleep, no dream forms remain,
since they were but a mental projection,
so the cause of bondage is our thought chain,
caused by ego, deserving rejection.
Self is the substratum of existence,
so with focus fixed on this truth alone,
resting thoughts caused by ego’s insistence,
breath by breath our consciousness we so hone.
Dissolving all opposites in the heart,
befriending silence, invoking God’s grace,
recognising that no soul stands apart,
our steps towards truth, we slowly retrace.
As the dreamer wherefrom all worlds arose,
we’re the light of Self, in blissful repose.
the snake is dead and yet it writhes
demons in dreams spawned by ego
as subconscious mind is dissolved
poised in stillness we just let go
nonchalance takes pole position
the gunas three loosen their hold
both within form and the vast void
light of Self is all we behold
I shelter myself so fiercely.
I am an ongoing discussion;
my life isn't perceived the same.
Do you know I love talking about the most unusual things?
Do you know I can't go a day without my mother's voice?
I wake to a new perception of myself,
one I've made for someone new.
The idea of knowing Diane,
the idea of me being open.
You'll grow tired, I can tell;
I always could.
I'm a girl who is scared:
scared of what the real me reveals,
scared of hurting myself,
scared of how you'll see me.
You can't know how obsessed I become,
you can't know how much power and wealth i crave,
you can't know how much love I hold to give.
I am dull,
I am unfindable.
I am nowhere;
I am lost.
I can't locate what I'm terrified people will see.
They always leave.
separation and then union
giving rise to bliss ignition
exhumes ego spawned delusion
light of Self seen seems like fiction
I have a quiet space
in the centre of myself
behind a high wall
where I go to listen.
I keep all my unwritten
poems there, some sleep
in a wordless dream
waiting to be awoken,
others are cloaked
in a vague notion
or an unshaped need
looking for way
to find form, a prayer
yet to be spoken
and be given a name.
Mostly though I hear
only the sound of myself,
my own machinery,
the taken breath,
my heartbeat, masking
what waits
to be made known.
form’s in-breath
God’s out-breath
Self as both
bilocates
I look different in the time between rooms.
I smile, I'm brave, I push those feelings down
While I busy myself, cooking, chatting
"All is well!"
Then
The walk between one room to the next
The smile drops
The frown
The fretful sigh
The shake of the head
"I can't do this"
Then I arrive in the next room
Replace the mask
Don't let them see the pain
The grief of a life in limbo
Of decades lost
Why did I stay?
Joking, they'd never know
Then
Alone.
Long stares, unanswered prayers
The deep dark hole that is now.
Hoping with everything I have that one day, the smile will stay and it will be real.
Words are enough.
They don't some overdramatized definition of them,
Don't be a fool to explain it to me.
I'd rather die a lonely and cruel death, by my own hands.
Words —
They don't come easy, do they?
The blurry effect on my left iris left me partially blind.
It tears my other eye to see it in the mirror.
Words, they are spat out like fetid, rotting chunder,
Why do they taste so putrid and smell so obnoxious?
When I try to let them out, they escape through my eye,
Leaking and spewing festering dross.
Technicolor yawn mimics the man in the mirror and then
He would call in sick the next day.
As the pus decay in the drought and barren land of my eye,
I was recommended using Ciprofloxacin.
Words —
Words like "I need help" and "why does it hurt so bad?"
I wish I never knew how to speak.
Instead of the infection of my worm-eaten and vile eye,
I desiderate it be my mouth rather.
Words like these are what made me feel how I feel now,
Enervated and debilitated.
We dream we can share our darkest secrets without judgement or retribution but realize we can only share them safely with others through our poetry.
Tonight, I will dream of you.
I dream we share our secrets
Indiscretions and hurtful pasts,
Told as gilded sagas
By immoral sociopaths.
I share to you with confidence
One of my poignant dreams.
A tale of stirring fantasy,
Images not as they seem.
Cold snakes coiled on soiled paths
They spring in naked truth
Biting hard at every turn
Retelling their violent youth.
Poised to prove their stranglehold
On phantom victims’ crimes.
It’s here we hide the willing sin
We’ve accepted many times.
As dreams become reality
Our thoughts embrace their role.
We resist the curse of others
Playing mind games in our soul.
Here I hunt for solitude,
And here I find my soul.
I search my heart within myself
To learn what I have always known.
The worship of scriptures, idols or symbols
has validity, infusing surrender,
steadying fickle heart, useful as gimbals,
till the day we feel within, soundless thunder.
The choice of path depends on inclination,
all leading to staid silence empowering,
as we then rest in all time meditation,
delighted feeling heart lotus flowering.
In timeless time we exit the cage of space,
recognising our true Self as living light,
made in God’s image, known when we see His face,
realm of boundless love, where we dance in delight.
Having been, seen and so known, the truth of Self
we must assimilate what we have imbibed,
that with no other agenda on our shelf,
we stand erect, name of God on heart inscribed.
embracing without clinging
to illusions manifest
Self at core of heart singing
frolics in light hearted jest
I always looked at people doing wrong
And said I could never do that
But look at me now
I saw people lying and said
I could never do that
But look at me now
I saw people hurting themselves on purpose
And said I could never do that
But look at me now
I saw people fighting to get
Every day, and said
I could never do that. I love my life
But look at me now
But now I look at myself every day and wish I couldn't.
-GHD
Specific Types of Self Poems
Read wonderful self poetry on the following sub-topics:
acceptance, confidence, dear, determination, esteem, future, harm, hate, identity, inner, love, note to, personality, reflection, sacrifice, worth,
and more.
Definition | What is Self in Poetry?
Poems Related to Self
automatic, ascetic, autonomous, narcissistic, subjective, autogenous, automatous, autonomic, endogenous, narcistic, myself, character, individuality, person, ego, identity, personality, narcissism, personal, egocentrism, psyche, individual, identical, own, selfhood, substantive, individualization, oneself, proprium,