Tie-Dye in July
Everyone has different colors inside them,
and they express them differently.
Personally, mine would be:
Red for love,
Blue for sadness,
Yellow for happiness,
Purple for dreams,
Black for pain,
Green for growth.
See, when people only see the outside,
they create theories and make a whole story
and start judging other people by their color—
not only their color,
but the story they create about who they are.
Sometimes I just wish people would get to really know a person,
so much that everyone’s colors could combine
and make a big rainbow,
so that we could all put our differences together
and make something beautiful.
Even the people judging have colors inside.
Everyone has different colors,
and they express them differently.
What am I without myself?
I have been discarded
Like trash into a bin
But I cannot rest
For I wonder, what am I without myself?
What makes me, me?
If not the faint and distant thoughts
The caged and free
The parts of me that can't be seen
If I let go of myself
There stands an empty shell
Devoid of all emotion and desire
A shell devoid of myself
Because what am I without myself?
What am I without memories?
Nothing...
What am I emotion?
Nothing...
What am I without the pain?
Nothing...
What am I without myself?
Not only nithing
Just a body with no one inside
Without myself I am a shell
A house with no people
A library with no books
A church without a steeple.
Without myself-
I am the little something
Within the lack of everything
HALLMARKED INDIVIDUALITY
autonomous
complexities
increasingly
intact
opted
isolation
ascetically
sought-after
creativity
in
stability
stimulates
&
fascinates
artistic
genius
Trickling water melts on my skin
We aren't individuals, just another blend
There are kids dying over the latest trend
Determine if they are really your friends
Things that matter come to an end
Trickling water melts on my skin
Flowing oxygen eats at my lungs
I sit here wondering what I've ever done
Im slightly wondering when my time will come
We live in a time where every person will shun
Life expectancy will raise if you’re numb
Flowing oxygen eats at my lungs
Flowing thoughts decay at my brain
Why does being alive cause such pain
They say “Be normal,” “Stay in your lane”
They try to determine the things that you say
But that's not individuality at the end of the day
Flowing thoughts decay at my brain
Evil spirits yank on my soul
Societal standards are to have the same goal
We are all the same cereal being poured in a bowl
Living another life will create a whole
I'm just a vessel living a life full of null
Evil spirits yank on my soul
INDIVIDUALITY
elemental
instinctive
heroic
prophetic
postures
yearnings
for
identity
of
a
stimulated
utopia
glimpsed
tendencies
of
interpreted
ideals
&
harmony
fostering
an
active
cultural
identity
I've been browbeaten
by better than you
and turning a deaf ear
ignored them too
then again
it's easier for some
to follow the herd
than think for themselves
and take my word
standing on the shoulders
of giants is not the way
especially if they
have feet of clay
and as to date
I don't know
a song by someone else
I can chase or pursue
there's only
one right thing to do
allow me please
to get it off my chest
in simple terms
may I suggest...
you won't step out of line
(it's true for all not just some)
when marching to the beat
of your own drum
Each one of us is special
Each one of us is different
From the capacity of our mental realm
To our very thumbprint
The differences never cease to amaze me
Superficial and profound
Each one of us has a talent
Each one of us has a gift
The most difficult task to perform is finding out what it is
That makes us different from the next
That gives us a sense of self-respect
That tells the world that I am like no other
Can you imagine if we were all the same way?
How could we properly function without going insane?
Can you imagine if we looked the same and answered to the same name?
Can you imagine the confusion, frustration, and pain?
If you were similar to the next
Living life would be so complex
My every waking hour would be so dismal
I would lack ingenuity, creativity and charisma
What if we were all geniuses?
How could you tell who was gifted?
If our lives were monotonous,
How could one tell the difference?
Be elated that you are unique
From the things you do to the way you speak
The very dreams you will achieve
Thank God for variety and individuality
Things don't always have to make sense because no one makes the rules
I can say and do things the way i want because i do what I choose
God has given me free will so who are you to take that away
There is no established rules when it comes to what i do and say
There does exist a right way but i want to take a different route
That's what makes us different from what comes up out of our mouths
What i do may not makes sense to you because that's what makes me, me
No two people are the same so you may not could see what i see
What you find tacky and ugly i might find as a treasure
What you find boring and sad might bring me untold pleasure
No one can dictate or tell another how to be
The one dictating might care a lot while the other one is care free
I'm easily amused and happy and can see a whole lot out of nothing
Just because a person has their ducks in a roll don't mean they actually have something
Maybe i like being weird and i might at times seem dense
But i really don't care that much about everything making sense.
Too many tiny minds
telling others what to do
the sighted led by the blind
even tho' they can't do it too
curtailing all creativity
restraining imagination
destroying individuality
those who can don't need advising
those who can't should stop supervising
let me make my own mistakes
it's the only way I'll know what it takes
to get where I need to be
so put the key in the slot
wind me up and watch me go
a robot I am not
I’m sure my first words
As a child were “No!”
Followed soon after by “Why?”
But I only really realized today,
A bit surprisingly
Given my 66 years on this earth,
That I dislike following
Either other’s directions
But particularly other’s trails
Obviously wishing instead
To find my own way
Changing it as it changes
Moment by moment.
And it’s been over fifty years now
That I’ve been able to make my own way
For better or worse,
Although we all know
The journey is always better
Than the goal.
Today I hiked in to view
A wild and remote local canyon
And it only became enjoyable
Once I was free to wander
Willy-nilly up the open
Rocky and grassy slope of one side
Meandering between shade spots,
But the first mile or so
Following a cattle and game trail
Through a forest
Was more a chore
Than what it’s like to explore.
And that’s the key word
And key experience here
Exploring
All the things it means to be
An independent individual.
All the things it means to be
Alive.
(5/28/25)
When I saw her eyes were burnt sienna,
and her lips were purple plaid,
when she said she wasn’t my kid’s teacher,
boy, was I ever sad.
I’m not for every eye to see,
a quiet truth that lives in me.
Steady in heart, grounded and whole,
I guard the light within my soul.
I may not bend to each demand;
my roots hold firm where I stand.
Through scars and stumbles, I claim the road,
guided by courage to bear the load.
If I don’t fit the world’s tight mold,
I’ll shape my life with hands untold,
for I’m not bound to every frame,
and what I am won’t fear the flame.
Oft times, I truly desire with a passion
to write like my fellow poets.
In doing that, I cannot see, the beauty
in my own, and fail to recognize it.
To create poetical magic, I have to dig
deep into my own reality.
For with that, and that alone, comes truth,
clear as crystalline tea.
I never try to impress wiith words, I shan’t
use in my daily life.
The words I pen, hopefully, will bring joy
sans clouds of strife.
A comedian on paper, is for witty, poet
compatriots to be.
All I can write about is wishing humanity
awakens, as I dream by the sea!
9/13/2024
@ Panagiota Romios
God gave you a mind and soul, that are
strictly your own.
When you abandon them, to be one of
the crowd, a sure sign, you are not grown.
Yet, I see this each day, where approval
from others, is the golden prize.
Indicating, a most lonely child, lost, never
respecting, their own brain and body.
Pleasing others, by quieting their own true
rainbows of truth~ a terribly tragic story!
9/4/2024
@Panagiota Romios
An online site is, in no way, for the meek.
You must live in conformity, giving no cheek!
Worse, one must be a jolly gal. or smiling fellow.
Living in a pretentious world, all bubbly-mellow!
The masses loathe those, going their own way.
You must conform, or forego your right to play!
Writers must be individuals, and have their unique say.
To deny them this quality is indeed, a very tragic day.
8/15/2024
@Panagiota Romios
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