Best Reinvention Poems
Through fire and rain,
I bear this pain,
Due to my emotional strain,
My reputation holds disdain.
How can I repair it?
How do I begin to feel worth it?
While friends who bear no sins,
Begin filling coffins.
Where do I turn?
I see no bridges,
I have yet to burn,
Only window ledges.
To be or not to be,
Is no longer the question,
To be blind or to see,
Is the question's reinvention.
For some it is as simple,
As standing upon a stool,
To fall and make a ripple,
Or to remain in life's stagnant pool.
It wills faceless principles
For the appeasement of whom
We wish sometimes we didn't know
The shallow deluge reaps
Happy means, thorns
And righteousness bundled
Snug in a wrap
Ready to serve beyond
Apprehension and reinvention
The ornery masses
I in mid-pack alignment, soothed
They are now allowed to scorn
Who they choose
Without retribution
Accounted for or scored upon
This day will stand
Among them
Among them all
For the moments share potential
And the empty destinies
We plan for the trip ahead
Now recline to the music
Of the day's splendor
The tingling millisomethings
Eager to mule for the chance
At the big time
Toil mule toil
Knowing the sinister mendings
Of your glorified unintentions
Will glow unabashedly
For all to rise up in furor
The care cannot persist
For lords and laws
Always see things
In unscrupulous ways
Those darned nether-enders
Of fictitious regard towards
Descendants not their own
Don't they know the finale
Brings oral brilliance
To trump the future
And all muddying the nascent present
In the angelic reserve
In the ideal that circumstances
Imagined and post-facto
Will tarry all
To relinquish
Time enough to breathe.
(10/26/07)
There was nothing special about her,
She was just a girl;
Average at the naked eye.
Not too pretty,
Not ugly either.
Just a girl.
Nothing really standing out about her.
Nothing except her eyes.
They weren’t any special,
Beautiful,
Kind of color.
Except,
For those very few who knew how to look,
And what to look for.
Beneath that seemingly careless gaze,
That happy glow,
That glaze covering them;
There was so much more.
Some could see the pain,
Some would see the sorrow,
The weight of her poor decisions,
The fear of being forgotten,
Of leaving this world of ours untouched.
Some say they could even see the lives she’d lived,
And the many more to come after this one as well.
Some could see the many lives she lived right now,
The ever-changing qualities and virtues,
The constant reinvention in search of redemption.
Redemption of sins she didn’t even truly believe in.
A vague grasp to rid herself of all of that emptiness,
All of the void she kept filling with banalities,
Which of course,
Were never enough.
Her eyes screamed a cry for help,
A cry for understanding,
A cry for nurture.
A cry those who were able to read her eyes,
Ironically could never hear.
The pain was so,
The constant disappointment of letting them in,
Having them see past the vague lies her eyes told,
And not only not alleviate anything,
But most times made it many times worse;
That she decided to shut them.
Shut her eyes,
Those windows to a broken soul.
Shut them for good.
“Keep your gaze down”, She told herself, “They can’t hurt you anymore.”
13.08.07
I caught the disease before the deadline
before my mid-life crisis
the reinvention
Who can wait for the epiphany of self-discovery?
I’ll force myself to find my passion, and I’ll be great at it,
the best
and it will be entirely willpower
Maybe
Ask me tomorrow
A soldering wire pushed into the skin,
the bubbling, crackling burning of hair,
scents of a barbecue, roasting pork,
hazy blue smoke, fascia stripped bare.
A razor blade slash and the welling of blood,
staining the steel with a crimson hue,
slicing enough to maim, not to kill,
a badge made of scars for the cutting crew.
Is a change to the flesh a change to the soul,
either deconstruction or reconstruction?
Reinvention of self into something else,
or a playpen stab at mock self-destruction?
It’s a cry for help or it’s body art,
or it’s self expression in other ways;
or it’s seeking attention or fooling around,
a mindset for life or a transient phase.
Sculpting the flesh to let the pain breathe,
to shock, to relieve, for something to do,
no matter how scarred or disfigured the canvas
when it all comes down you are still left with you.
Loveless world
You put on your shows
Anything goes
You judge and feed scandals
Your definition of Mercy is critiquing how good someone can handle
So quick to mock our celebrities cries
Instead of seeing through to their lives that are lies
Loveless world
You put on a dance
You never take a real glance
At the head on avalanche
Loveless world
Our children just watch sex and greed
No parents at home to fill their need
Yet we proceed
Someday they are suppose too lead
Loveless world
You put on a blanket
Over your eyes while people are dying
Couldn’t care less and simply stopped trying
Loveless world
Our morals depleted
Our economy is defeated
Reinvention is needed
Yet we take God out of our pledge
Then put a giant wedge
Between our hearts
Tear one another apart
Loveless world
Praises organize religion
And is afraid to make right decisions
Loveless world
Forgot about our relationship
With the one who holds us with his mighty grip
Loveless world
Whenever we fall down
Seems to be when we want God to come around
Can you hear that all too fimilar sound of our
Loveless world
By:Sabina Nicole
I liked it back when we were thought a pair
And held in high esteem by lovers all
Who envied what it was we seemed to share
when we were also fooled within that thrall
As actors lose themselves in parts that call
for reinvention on a stage set bare
We played our roles as partners till our fall
I liked it back when we were thought a pair
How long then were we blindly unaware?
Imprisoned to ourselves behind a wall
Over which the outside world would stare
And held in high esteem by lovers all
Did they not sense our soaring passion stall?
Did we pretend because we didn't dare
Betray our lie to those who held us tall
Who envied what it was we seemed to share
Rituals and habits were our snare
We once long-striding lovers forced to crawl
till only rote and duty lingered there
When we were also fooled within that thrall
Their crushing expectations left us small
You took all else I was, to my despair
what little hope I had is in your haul
If others need that from us, I don't care
I'd like it back
And yet Affleck’s Bruce Wayne is an arrogant bully whose disturbing sexual comments towards Gal Gadot’s Wonder Woman mark him out as a man with a problematic moral compass. And did you swallow the bit where his realisation of a human connection with Superman (their mothers both share the Christian name Martha) saw Batman instantly switch from readying himself to kill Kal-El to heading off to save his opponent’s mum from certain death? And can we forgive him for nearly offing the greatest superhero in comics in time for a double whammy of Snyder-directed Justice League movies in 2017 and 2018?
Jeremy Irons: ‘I have the natural tendency of a benign dictator’
Jesse Eisenberg’s wacky weirdo Lex Luthor
Jesse Eisenberg’s Luthor is a bizarrely unhinged creature, fascinating to watch and with some splendid, operatic lines of dialogue. But what is the motivation for his hatred of Superman and apparent obsession with other superhumans? I’ve read suggestions that Luthor’s determination to kill off the man of steel stems from a sense of youthful victimhood at the hands of his overbearing father. But even that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.
Was Eisenberg hoping to achieve the kind of radical reinvention of a classic DC supervillain that saw Heath Ledger win a posthumous Oscar for his turn as the Joker? If so, he had Batman v Superman’s screenwriters as willing accomplices to the crime.
It now seems a big ask for Eisenluthor to become the DC Comics universe’s big, bad-guy puppet master. Yet the movie’s final scenes suggest that was the fast-crumbling plan.
'There’s a lot to be worried about': a comics geek's verdict on Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Ben Affleck is great and Wonder Woman nearly steals the show, but there’s plenty in Zack Snyder’s mash-up to make superfans fret. Including, film-maker’s Kryptonite!: very bad writing
http://www.gandhis.com/overloadngz-watch-full-batman-v-superman-dawn-of-justice-online-movie/
a forward reinvention
out of death
i must recycle myself
into perfection
i would rather wash and dry my hair
than to love, love you
i would rather be old and diseased and wrinkled
and suffering
than to love, love you
and true,maybe you were a beginning for me
but not the end
compressedof the heart and gut and sex and jealousy
an education
a presumption of powerlessness
i want to fold over the lessons of you
and stuff them and hide them
inside deep crevices only you have known
never to be learned in the light of day
or in the black of night ever, ever
i would rather sleep fourteen hours and miss all the good sunshine
than to be loving you
i would rather be cold and dirty and pitiful
than to be loving you
i should be deaf or mute or both
or penniless or cruel
i should be deranged, or worse, ordinary
or mundane or boring
anything but to be loving you
because i cannot, will not ever again
I'm sorry
I'm sorry... that I hurt you,
that was never my intention
You are so precious to me,
wish you could see my reinvention
I'm sorry...I was really not myself
You are everything to me,
don't leave me here
collecting dust on the shelf
I'm sorry...I really hope that
it's really not too late
Don't move on without me, please
that would be your biggest mistake
I'm sorry...I know that these are only words
my actions would speak louder, I know
will you give me another chance
for them to be heard?
I'm sorry... for all my mistakes
they were Tsunami like in size
They washed you far away from me
before I ever realized
I'm sorry...for all the things I said
I really wasn't thinking
Now I understand how much it hurt
and why this ship is sinking
I'm sorry...that you don't answer me
answer when I call
I can't blame you, I blame myself...
I blame myself for it all...
I'm sorry.
John Derek Hamilton
June 07,2016
Spooling southward on shattered wing-
I ache to fold from life’s cruel sting!
(I’d rather die, than say goodbye)
Because I can’t repent this suffering
(A reinvention of 'No Assembly Required')
striving endlessly to
preserve her/himself in
amber,
having spent no time to pop out
the biological pez that 99% of others do,
rather instead,
working to put more
cultural seed out into the
world,
s/he would be at a loss,
the greatest that s/he had ever known,
if in fact,
s/he was found to be interesting
in the eyes of the easily pleased, neon,
five second exposure,
that makes & breaks those who
might’ve spent a lifetime
creating a vast amount of precious
things,
which generations later
might be able to use
in order to stand on the proverbial giant’s
shoulders &
keep the wave splashing up against the
shore of
continuous
creativity---
the irony is that to be found is to be
decided upon, evaluated &
shelved, whilst one is still alive &
breathing,
killing one’s greatest love so quick
with the label of
“style”---
as if reinvention & the fun that accompanies
an artist doing so,
would be cauterized by the consuming
public.
The flag lies on the street
Bleeding in the rain
The men shout
At nothing
About nothing,
Followed by the fools and dreamers
Whilst the sheep graze on trash
The light dims on the street
A dark tide approaches
People know everything about nothing
And nothing about anything
Waken and live
The prophet calls to a deaf mob
Fighting for nothing
Salvation comes from their reinvention
Though only they decide
The flag, downtrodden by the rain
Honour forgotten
Bleeds
Blue
White
Red
The mob thuds wearily on
Marching to ignorance
Reinvention is distilled
by tidal waves of fools.
Of distant childhood memories
Of trying to be cool.
Of people pointing out your wrongs
Never what is right.
So you don't know how I feel.
I'm trapped inside this dissapointing world.
How interesting can you be ?
Once whole and confident
Focused Intent
A likely pre set present tense
All my ducks in a row
Ready to cluck out in militant fashion
A prepubescent repetition
Shallow and still
Reflection and refraction
The reinvention of perfection is a fruitless pursuit
Decades of good intentions
Mirrored by calloused intervention
In a frigid current
Bent, by shifting sedimentation,
its perception
Busted back
Crumpled putrid IF- I-CA-tion
Mangled fingerling
Chewed up and spat out
Indistinguishable platitudes
Presented for inspection
Consorted and Contorted
Beyond Recognition
The Reclamation paralyzed, in part, by Bombastic Voyeurs and
The Chief Architect
Whose The Supplicant Saboteur ?