Long Empathize Poems
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My Dear, Please understand.
You cant force your light upon him.
You might be the reason he smiles while his eyes squint and sparkle.
His laughter will certainly affirm your clever humor.
You will impress him with well-earned accomplishments.
Your impeccable wit will not go unnoticed.
He may even feel affection and empathize with your sincere words or actions.
You will undeniably allure him.
My dear, please understand.
You are truly worthy, you won't be to him.
You will choose him, he won't choose you.
He can't.
My dear, please understand.
His rejection is not a reflection of you.
His actions reflect something much bigger than you.
He is at war with demons you can't comprehend.
These demons whisper to his mind and dance on his heart.
They represent the weaknesses within him.
My dear,
You possess a servant's heart
but you are no servant of the demons that play on his.
We are all at war, you too have demons.
Demons are relentless creatures sent from the depths of Hell
they ravage and destroy our very being, if we allow.
There is no reasoning, no alliance that can be made with demons.
They will consume you from the inside.
My dear, please understand.
It's not him. It's his demons he has allowed to rule over him.
This is a solo war that can't be fought from the outside.
You cannot save him.
You cannot save him.
You cannot save him.
Only he can save himself.
And you must prioritze the war you are fighting.
You must save yourself.
My dear, please understand.
He is not the validation that you need.
His actions should not reflect your value to yourself or to him.
He is not your father's rejection.
His sweet carress will not requite the man of your past who was once not so gentle.
His affection is not sufficient in replacing the empty hole
expanded by doubt, abandonment, and anguish you sanctioned your demons
to create within yourself.
My dear,
Your tenacious nature and relentless love will not be disregarded.
Your weaknesses, the demons who dance on your heart
will surely capture the attention of his very own demons.
My dear, please understand.
If granted; the demons that consume him
will gladly consume you too.
-Ashley Johnson
My family doesn't understand
How me and my brain work
Or all the instabilities in my head,
Feeling like I might break
At any point or another,
How I could cry at any moment,
How I am never relaxed at any time,
How I am so untrusting because
Of the trauma I've been dealt
That they don't even know about
I just want to take a day off
But I'm not allowed because
"We never get to see each other much"
And I can't just stay home even though
I've just been through another bad thing
But who cares, get over it, fight on
Well, that's easy to say but is such
Toxic thinking to put down another
And to just say to "get over it",
I'm sorry, but the pain is real
And I just want it to go away
So I want to take a sick day today
But I'm not allowed to take time
To recuperate and recollect myself,
No, I have to go out into public,
A place which never fails to
Make me feel oh-so uncomfortable
And never let me be able to relax
And I like how they say,
"You can relax anywhere as long as you try!"
But that is such utter fallacy for me,
The one who deals with so much anxiety,
I mean, who can blame me for wanting to be
Comfortable in my own house for a day?
To take a day for myself and feel better?
But of course, that isn't a thing I get
And they try to empathize with me,
But they only use themselves and don't
Even try to understand what I might feel
Compared to how they would,
Like they are just telling themselves
What to do, not even me anymore
Like I'm not the subject anymore,
But since when was I ever?
Not like I'm the one that matters,
"Oh, well your grades are good, move on"
But they put so much effort into
My siblings who don't do as great,
"You're doing that? That's great, that's fine"
But they push my siblings to do things,
Never a thought about me,
Or any reason to put any effort in me
Although, I guess I'm lucky since
I don't need their help, not that even
When they gave it to me it was any good
They talk me down now about not
Bottling up my emotions, but they were
The ones to first instill the idea in my head,
Never letting us be anything but
Completely and utterly happy, otherwise
You were told to stop and stamp it out
I'm sorry I'm not perfect,
But that's not what you raised me to be,
I guess in the end, family does not
Always know best
Written on March 20, 2021
We often look at the person within the walls as the breaker ,
not the broken
the relentless evil that exists in this persons free will
The horror this person was willing to create
how they bruised societies ego
How then do we look then at the breakers
We look with sad forgiving eyes
We understand why the family is scared to sleep again in there own house
We understand why the victim escapes into opiat related bliss
We understand why they cant go back to yesterdays routine.
When is it that we decide to place the time stamp
Why must it begin then
What if we looked at everything
Why do we value one free will above another
Lets move back and see
Let your forgiving eyes relate and empathize
The brain signalling reflex and pain
receptors act as puppet strings that hopes to move one out of harms way
Move from everything that hurts,
some stronger than others
To isolate a lonely human is only to further the hurt
Hurt very quickly to desperation
Desperation to obedience
Obedience to “conditional acceptance”
Problem Solved
No
Looking head on into your own script is the only way to find your story
Read your story well, don't skip a line
It all comes together,
what led your brain to release those choices?
If you read my book,
word for word
you would get to the same page in the same chapter
your next sentence would be the same
where my choice is simply a result-
A choice to rid the pain
Remove the fear
Lift the prejudice
Do I run or dare I confront
Do I feast or make love
Is my machine well oiled and assembled for the job
Does the neglect of my maintenace not matter
Is my warranty the 12 decedents of men that choose whether I shall be rebuilt
Or is my justice sitting right here in my book.
Is my forgiveness in my manufacturer
or is forgiveness in the pressure that all my parts are constructed to work a certain way
Am I to be assembled in a way that produces the end product wanted
Then why isn't the best engineer on my case
A lawyer to make decisions the law
a captain to navigate a ship
yet an amateur is sent to rebuild what is broken
an amateur assembled us in the first place
The answer is to understand the book
The answer is to understand the amateur
My Justice is the past
My Justice is my past
My Justice is your past
My justice
Our Justice
Designs we find democratically attractive
include designs for acquiring healthy trust powers
with all others to be positively infected
by our mutual discussion,
dialogue, respectful discernment,
our listening with silently authoritative skills
before responsibly speaking,
Democratic designs acquire cooperative consensual power
of a healthy
robust
resilient
care-giving super-majority,
Messiahs, economic and politically empowering actors,
producers of well-being,
empirical without imperialism,
without pietistic Raptures,
historical escape magic-hatches
removed from RealTime felt and thought integrity,
heart and mind synergy
Still actively listening for remaining white supremacists,
anti-democratic colonizing fundamentalists,
un-evangelicals too clear only about what we are against
while teaching Sunday School
and weekday extractive extorting capitalist competitions,
calling out fellow slum lords,
watching enviously while weapon sales
generously feed automated death lobbyists,
and mystify angry ecofeminists
about what we stand healthy for
Nondualistic, undividing natural health from spiritual wealth
responding to left-brain dominant designs
with monoculturing effects
disempowering into self-isolating fear
and anger
and bigotry,
lack of courageous curiosity
to empathize with anti-democratic intolerance.
This difference between democratic cooperative designs of attraction
and anti-democratic capitalist principles
of egotistical design,
incorporatistic
monoculturing extractions from MotherEarth refinements
Health care supported by all
who would replace aristocratically misshaped
distant patriarchal God the SunFather
with Gaia the Original AtHand EarthMother.
All who would replace left-brain dominant thinking
with left/right bicameral prominence
of win/win
faith/hope
thought/feelings
about ego health attracting eco-wealth
more than worrying too awfully either/or
win/lose much
about extracting ego wealth from everyday resident designers
eco-healthier
nondualistic SunGod/Gaia dialogue refiners
of romance
mythos
logos eco-habitat voices
with theo/democratic cooperative trust empowerment
enlightenment
enjoyment,
awesome sacred/secular wonder
revisiting lavishly holy/holonic designs.
You’re a 3AM
Wake up call
With another sob story
About the latest boy
Who pumped you
Then dumped you
And left you
In a sweaty lonely pile
Upon another
Empty bed
And you cry
Baby girl tears
All over my phone
And you wonder why handsome
Boys
With shining white teeth
With full heads of curly black hair
With six-pack stomachs
And tight muscular
Rear ends
Can not be more like
Mature
Older
Men
“Just like you,”
Baby girl says
“Just like you.”
And you cry
Baby girl tears
All over my phone
And you wonder why reckless
Boys
Who party all night
Who down countless vodka shots
Who shout “muthafukka,” “dude,” "beotch,"
And other raucous
Victory chants
Can not be more like
Mature
Older
Men
“Just like you,”
Baby girl says
“Just like you.”
You want me to empathize
You want me to criticize
The nasty boys
Who took you for another
Cruel and pointless ride
You want me to father you
In a way he never did
But I’m sorry
Baby girl
I’m sorry
I can’t
Because I admire and envy those
Boys
In the prime of their life
Not yet defeated
Not yet haunted
Not yet beaten
By the disappointments that
Await
They are a national treasure
A precious resource
From the exuberant crude shouts of
Irrational wild boys
Come the builders of shelter
The providers of sustenance
The conquerors of enemies
The explorers of frontiers
From the exuberant crude shouts of
Irrational boys
Come the daring adventurers
The first one into the burning house
The last one out of the burning house
The one still standing when everybody else
Fled
From the insatiable loins of such
Irrational wild boys
Come the fierce wild girls
Who dance insanely upon tables
Who run naked through the streets
Who make love without limits
In open fields
Upon damp grass
All through the night
From the insatiable loins of such
Irrational wild boys
Come the fierce wild girls
Who cat-fight for their lover
Who kill for their children
Who wail passionately for their dead
From such boys
Baby girl
From such boys
You were born into the world
My crazy baby girl
You were born into the world
Like father, like daughter
And if I could be that young wild boy
Again
The one that you hate
And love
In such a maniacal way
It would be an honor to be with you
An honor to hold you
An honor to love you
Until my dying day.
I'm here because.....
I need you to believe in me
You...Yes, YOU!
My fellow poet..
You who understands
my love for words and their nuances
denotations, but even more...their connotations
their play and interplay of emotions
I need you to believe in me
believe in my voice
my selection and word choice
believe that I can make a change
with my catalytic composition of rhyme
in this present time
when the world is in pain
when there is so much to gain
by the prophetic cry of a poet in the wildness
I need you to believe in me
I'm here because...
I need you to empathize with me
you who sees my words dripping
the blood of my lacerated heart
I'm incomplete
scarred
I'm scared
I'm holding on by one last thread
at times overcome by dread
life is hard
I need you to empathize with me
to write a little word
that will lift my heart
and caress my soul
with the balm of poetic love
friendship's bandage
Cover me....
I need your empathy
I'm here because...
I need community
others don't understand
this is not just a pastime
a cute little way to occupy my time
It's my heart and soul
my ever present dream...my goal
to live on when I'm gone
in some remembered little song
that you helped we write along
I need community
I need the you and the me
In the communal dance of poetry
They don't see
what words mean
to you
to me
I'm here because...
I need your wisdom
I fall short
I see only within my vision
my periphery
I cannot keep in store
all the mysteries and more
you bring wisdom daily to me
a feast for my hungry mind
to relish all the truth I find
your wisdom nourishes me
I bloom into what I'm meant to be:
a writer of sincerity
I'm here because....
When I'm not
I'm so incomplete
the missing parts of me
are here....
they live in my lines
they breathe in your rhymes
you write; I read
I write; you read
and life is born
and I am
whole...
I'm here because....
I belong
Here are people who understand
who help me to stand
who lend me a hand
I'm part of a band
of people like me
who taste the ecstasy
of a life that is blessed
by sweet
poetry....
For Jerry's Contest (Why are You Here)
December 30, 2015
You see it in the old movies,
when Indians come into play,
somebody calls them,”savages,”
and it seems to fry people’s brains.
They flip out, demand censorship,
know nothing of real history,
can’t empathize with either side,
to see how that all came to be.
It’s obvious that most regret
how things happened in these past times,
and they’re not wrong to regret that,
it isn’t that hard to go find
broken treaties and agreements,
politicians playing their games,
most wish that things had gone better,
but history never can change.
Yet this does not change stubborn fact,
and looking back it is well seen
that some things the Indians did
were barbarous to the extreme.
Ritual torture was practiced
on captives by most of the tribes,
and done long before Columbus
ever had the new world in sight.
Like burning people at the stake,
or things that were much more foul,
like tying intestines to trees,
forcing souls to self-disembowel.
Making people run the gauntlet,
to be beaten by hard-swung staffs,
make it through and you might be safe,
if you didn’t…well, that was that.
Now by any modern standards
this is savage, that much is fact,
but honestly, were they alone
when you take the time to look back?
Europe had its iron maidens,
and the rack in medieval days,
and the Turks once were infamous
for leaving many captives flayed.
The Japanese in World War II
treated captives like they were trash,
Britain used to ‘blow out the guns,’
for your sake, please, don’t look up that.
Islamists rape and mutilate
in ways that would leave you disturbed,
and savage Chinese socialists
do awful things to the Uighurs.
But somehow, in this PC age,
we give the Indians a pass,
try to forget what they once did,
this really does strike me as bad.
No people should be above sin,
we see our mistakes from our scars,
to stay at peace none can forget,
must understand all that we are.
It’s important the we know this,
noble savage myths do no good,
especially since we’d forget
if there was a way that we could.
This evil lurks in all mankind,
and it should leave us all non-plussed,
Were the Indians savages? Yes…
but no more than the rest of us.
To the legend of silence
that speaks in trembling stillness
I’ve seen your halcyon halo~
that illuminates wilted weeds
and tilted tendrils
unfolding perfumed wings,
allowing sizzling seas of stardust to rise.
But something about the way
your soft skin caresses
my bruised bones,
ignites poetic sparks,
carving scarlet skies of fears
with luminous letters
and nomadic numbers.
Yet I, the mistress of metaphors,
remain hypnotized by the harlequin blades,
in your virtuous garden of butterfly serenades,
searching for a phrase to describe
the selflessness that you
portray,
through jasmine scented analogies.
I empathize with your locked-up tears,
cloaked discreetly beneath feathered sunsets,
for, in solitude, your soulful song soars,
unfolding sorcery from a symphonic tapestry of darkness,
like a broken bandit dressed in lion limbs,
walking through nocturnal nothingness.
I heard the soldier within you
shoulders heavy burdens~
as an aquamarine armored savior,
to the ones that long for petals of peonies~
that emanate healing through peridot gates of your midnight eyes.
Sometimes, I wonder, how you
stand so firm,
unmoved by the wicked winds,
carrying hail of heinous hymns,
unfolding your fingers to weave unerasable auroras
across greyest horizons,
enabling the blind a lilac ladder to the tangerine moon,
where flowers flourish like fairy-dust blossoms.
If only, you can see yourself,
through these words,
maybe then, you will realize,
your picturesque patience
and presence is enough to paint
every wrong right,
amidst the fickle fog against the sharpness of your sight,
I see you as the rainbow star that
sprinkles hope,
upon my anesthetized heart,
there I walk above lunar-kissed ripples,
embracing the empathetic silhouette of your tender twilight.
Tonight I’ll wear sage to sleep,
hug you from miles,
let memories of the sun that thawed wintry thoughts
be the lullaby,
as I look for you, astral waltzing,
to place my cheeks within your empyrean embrace,
where home is a feeling I find with you.
It’s not just Jesus who rose into grace with scars from nails and the cross
Trees grow new branches from knots like wounded soul’s blemish’s scars
A rainforest’s undergrowth thrives in the mist of weeping from heaven
Ebony needs ivory for harmony preferably with tusks attached to the rhino
An elephant under cover of the hat inside a boa constrictor pleases the Prince
Joaquin would write poetry had he not been swallowed by a black raven
On his shoulders and dogs that growl can bite fiercely with razor sharp fangs
Puncture marks empathize when they emphasize conjunction and junctures
A semicolon tattoo depicts the survivor from darkness shadows and light
No smoke without fire and his pen could not heal without fountains of sorrow
Juanita views wrinkles and stretch marks as cinnamon bark’s fine poise
Hides no longer self-harm lacerations with bracelets or covering bangles
Heals from a maze of disgraced projections owns grazes slashes and cuts
Paints a new canvas frames it with witch-hazel twigs leaves howling behind
Sounds all three pedals on forte’s piano has dampened onslaughts of fear
Joseph is a seer who had once lost his vision had dangled his ropes both sides
Of the sea saw but recovered the fulcrum of balance reads palm trees and palms
Life lines strife lines blisters blistering hardship hardened calluses’ resilience
Scars do not scare him as he places his faith into prayer gracing graces and hope
Tosses tussles meaning and harmony moulds silent retreat into flickering candles
‘Can’t put all your eggs into one basket no ominous pancakes without breakage’
What does not bend splinters and rages oozes and festers in foul purulent rage
Confusion needs contradictory feelings or one crosses Styx and Acheron too early
And the boatman needs both oars and currents to negotiate drift wood and pain
Any two master needs departure and destination roaring storms and calm respite
True ivory cannot be burnt and grace is a virtue but not without turning the table
21st April 2019
Where is the anger! The rage! And the courage, I expected to see?
Why is everyone so complacent?
Evangelical Christians have endorsed a cheat, a liar, a bigot, and a misogynist
because he's pro-life, God will forgive the rest; hallelujah!
Democracy used to cannibalize democracy; please pass the head of state!
A cult has formed, like the Nazi Youth, who ogled Hitler with worshiping eyes.
Those in charge have stooped so low; that they bow down to this wannabee Fuhrer
with their brown noses prominently showing above their pasted-on smiles!
If you're part of this cult, reason can't save you! You'll die for this trickster!
Chanting NO COLLUSION, NO COLLUSION! Though you know, it isn't true.
As for the rest of you, it's time you woke up!
Wipe off those cynical grins and VOTE, like your voice matters
like your vote matters, like your freedom matters, and pray that they still do!
I'm neither a democrat nor a republican,
I can't stomach the hypocrisy of either party!
As a proud Canadian, I can only empathize with your problem,
but, I'm an impartial observer, immune to the fake news, you might say.
There's no defending this President!
But his Republican stooges, Fox news, and the evangelist elite do just that!
A con-man stole their integrity and bamboozled his way into the White House.
Now, like Russia's Putin, he wants to be king!
And he'll challenge and or change the constitution to make it so!
Where is your anger! Your rage! And your courage?
I hear some Americans praise him like he's the second coming!
And insisting his Presidency was prophesied in the pages of the bible.
In what wacky world is it even possible to venerate Donald Trump
as an instrument of God? Many are oblivious to the truth,
even when his narcissism and hyperbole are so blatantly obvious!
Once more, the human psyche's tapped and loyalty siphoned off
to advance the goals of one corrupt man.
In the words of Jesus, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do!"
May God have mercy on our souls if he wins again!
(free Verse)
Mar.24, 2018