Long Insecurities Poems
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We have a tendency to focus on our flaws, despite it being what makes us human; what we despise is what one desires, and what we desire is what someone despises.
I felt this way for years; I still do- the perpetuous feeling that I’m horrendous.
When I look in my mirror, I don’t see my full lips, my long lashes, or my hourglass; I see my short legs, protruding stomach, and my eyebags.
Yet people with those flaws are beautiful- so why am I not?
The answer is that I am; I am beautiful, I am worthy, and I’m not horrendous- I simply haven’t been able to process my worth yet.
It seems that each passing year, I reflect on myself, making those negative remarks, rendering myself as unattractive.
Though, next year, I’ll look back on myself and realize how gorgeous I truly was; though it’s not that simple to prevent those negative feelings from pursuing.
Does beauty even exist, though?
It’s repeatedly changed over time, and it’s quite subjective, which has caused me to believe that true beauty doesn’t exist; it’s simply a perception.
I shouldn’t waste my time trying to ease the perceptions of others; I should follow my own, because short legs, protruding stomachs, and eyebags are beautiful; they’re only viewed in a negative way because society itself is ugly.
If I abide by every standard of others, I’ll only feel regret, for my happiness shall pulverize.
If I create myself to be someone who is healthy and who I love, my happiness shall thrive.
Though these insecurities will persist, even with the most attractive individuals- they’ll always haunt you, whether or not you believe in yourself.
So I dissected myself.
…
Carving every inch of me until my insides are out; but when I do so, my organs look the same as everyone else’s.
Bathing in perplexion until I realized; we’re all the same on the inside- and as I try to stuff my organs back inside of me, I remember what people say-
See, I’ve been told before, just like anyone else, that I’m ugly.
People take advantage of others' sensitivity in order to ease their insecurities; but they’re morons who don’t know what they’re talking about.
They try ridding of their “flaws” by projecting it on others, though those rigid thoughts will always remain inside.
But truth be told, we all have the same interior- and..
You’ll truly be happy if you stop caring about the perceptions of others.
The elegant thoughts of a precious mind the computational formula of a wicked demise.
Conceptual seires of theories a conspiracy to seduce persuasive succulent poetry.
Wicked mistress of promiscuous thoughts succulent dreams aromas of fresh gratuities a blurring of mixtures to blended abstracts.
Funnels draining the gravity of intellectual force to persuade a complete set of cycling ways to convey. The Amoure of flashing movies pictured all in the thought whispering speeds of domesticating breeds many ways a heart bleeds. Bundles of delightful Joys the taste of blissful, many ways eye's see to conceive the thought.
The almonds of joy roasted to enjoy conceptual way of a thinking blinking fast ways of thoughts. Orchestra's of notes orchestrated instruments of Beethoven's musical symphonies. Genie in a bottle unleashing the mysterious, unveiling imaginative ways of cultivating the seeded flower to bloom.
Enduring the elegants of an elite Romance rhythm of a Romans aroma's to inhale changing the taste of eloquence.
The artist works mending fears transducing hours to love live love with the sweat of fears8.
Rome's architectural wonder the protects precise sculpture of a wordsmiths glamour. Struts the catwalk with a book 2 premiere, lives on set, broadcasting his heart to revere.
Prince's of prancnig dressing rooms, Broadway St of dramatic dramas, elterically shocking emotions paints new moon phases, mixture of Picasso's colors a dramatization of pain seats the audience.
Photographer of a pictured humanity, colors rainbows of negativity with brilliant prisms.
A King to lion's spiritual pride brilliance of a star, rearrange the theater's of studed premieres, lives with sentiments of love's lifetime unconditionally the greatest of philosophy.
Unique elegance of sun setting romance blinding the artist of a premiering wedding, preaching the marriage of universal energy.
Rays of hope displaying poetry of wholehearted hearted beauty.
The statue of persuasive values premiering spiritually harmonies the elegance of mankind.. Energies of unleashed imaginations dreaming of pots of gold, loving the insecurities of the worlds diversity walks the testimony of £ove.
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Pen's Broadcasting Brilliance
21st century's Poet
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How can you say
with your not quite straight face
that you neither know nor care
anything of God, or gods,
or exotic goddesses
or ghosting holy spirits?
That's like saying you don't care for any love today,
or believe in rain during a drought,
yet feel gratitude for sacred Earth's holistic medicine,
all the grace-filled rain that came some other place and day,
even if not this dry and cracked today.
Like saying you don't believe in music
and dance
and sex
and pleasure
and passion
and red and purple and pink and yellow bruised violet sunsets.
How could you not care about creative becoming?
Regeneration of interdependent life?
The future peaceful home of our prospering grandchildren?
Health care and assurance?
Social and environmental securities?
Anti-social anti-ecological irreligious insecurities?
AnthroObscene LoseAnthroMinds/LoseEarthBodies
mutually assured destroying war games
and re-creative multicultural sacred/organic gardens
pantheistically loving
peace-thriving fragrant and beautiful Beloving Communities.
How can you pretend
with that half-smirk
that this Earth Goddess
we democratically garden together
is no one you could wisely know
or deeply care about?
To co-redeem a master gardener's wildest dreams?
To love into integrity's holy nature/spirit wealth
by divesting of manmade hypocrisy,
thinking we could sufficiently name,
much less commodify, God
without re-creating passions
and pleasures of organic Paradise.
Why would you take a pass
on digging into Earth's co-passionate
fully humane mind/body divinity?
This could not be true
not really you
not the Self with polyculturing Others
past and future right now within
and without your own,
but never owned, passion
to prefer sacred cooperative pleasure's
indigenously natural wisdom.
How can you know
we're not gods and goddesses
in our health-gardening integrity?
in our potential for harvesting regenerativity?
economic and politically fertile
sync-tensegrity,
love of full-stretch multi-colored jazzy soul livity.
You know you want to dance in cornrows
and sing with bird choirs
as god and goddess
within and on,
for and of Mother Gorgeous Gaia's
embryonic wounded womb
elationally awaiting Golden Ruling garden bliss
Or, did I miss something
in that twinkling
of your somewhat straight-faced lie?
In the labyrinth of the human psyche, where thoughts roam free,
A boundless expanse of consciousness, vast as the endless sea.
Here, emotions swirl like tempests, fierce and wild,
As we navigate the depths of the mind, like an intrepid child.
Memories echo through the corridors of time,
Whispers of love, echoes of crime.
Each thought a universe, teeming with life,
A kaleidoscope of emotions, joy and strife.
In the quiet moments of introspection,
We confront our fears, our deepest reflection.
Doubts and insecurities, shadows that linger,
As we grapple with the questions that point to our inner.
Yet amidst the chaos, beauty finds its way,
In the poetry of our thoughts, where dreams sway.
Hope blooms like a flower in the desert's arid land,
Guiding us through the darkness, holding our hand.
From the depths of despair to the heights of elation,
We journey through the spectrum of human sensation.
Love, like a beacon, illuminates the night,
Bringing warmth to our souls, casting out the blight.
But even in moments of sorrow and pain,
There's a silver lining, a truth to gain.
For within the depths of our complex minds,
Resides the power to transcend, to leave the past behind.
So let us embrace the complexity of our thoughts,
For within them lies the key to unlock our plots.
In the tapestry of human cognition, we find our truth,
In the symphony of our thoughts, we find our youth.
So let us wander through this vast expanse,
Exploring the realms of human chance.
For in the depths of thought's embrace,
We find the essence of our grace.
In the whispers of the mind, secrets untold,
In the silent echoes, truths unfold.
In the dance of neurons, connections made,
In the symphony of thought, wisdom displayed.
In the recesses of memory, stories reside,
In the depths of emotion, worlds collide.
In the vast expanse of imagination, dreams take flight,
In the quiet contemplation, truths ignite.
In the tender embrace of empathy, souls unite,
In the fervent pursuit of knowledge, minds ignite.
In the rhythm of life, we find our beat,
In the tapestry of humanity, each thread unique.
So let us revel in the complexity of our minds,
For within them, the universe unwinds.
In the depths of thought, we find our truth,
In the vast expanse of consciousness, our youth.
Written by - Moonlit Whisper
Since childhood,
as alexithymia struck my soul.
I kept all my hopes a secret,
hidden in a bucket of unshared dreams.
I kept my soul sweet like marshmallows,
but life has finally caught up with me,
Like a fast car overtaking recklessly,
leaving me behind in the slow lane -
and I'm running out of fuel.
I'm a vehicle of flashbacks from flashlights,
fatigued from embracing the old,
preparing for freshly brewed emotions.
Yet they deprive me at every dawn,
as new beginnings are always challenging.
Suffocating in this silent selcouth slumber,
life tries to call my bluff, when it knows,
I am the master of my masquerade.
My soul pleads with fate to usher me with belief,
but I can see death at my doorstep,
creating intrusive insecurities like termites,
eating away at branches of my sanity,
feeding upon my ordained Orphic glory.
Emotions are an interior mechanism,
so many remain fooled by my exterior,
but I'm tired of searching for salvation.
You who claim to love me,
gift me a scented candle made with your hands,
so its sentimental scent can bring me peace.
Take me to a place without a name,
without a label,
without judgment -
without suffering.
Unchain me from jeapordising January jitters.
Free me from meandering in misty meadows,
which have misplaced me in foggy morning sunshine -
bring me clarity.
These are not random thoughts, random poems,
because my ink is tired from trying to find new metaphors,
to supplement an abundance of alliterations,
portraying humble happy horizons.
Love can be a false emotion,
when we yearn for reciprocal ravishing redamancy,
but when was love ever equal or even fair?
I have no resolutions, just to breathe with ease.
Sometimes love's presence made me feel aesthetic,
but sometimes a badly drawn self portrait.
You can stay or leave, but do come back,
hold on, but not too tight that it chains my wings.
When I ascend, please, miss me,
so my spirit flies back to you.
Can you not see the irony?
We accumulate many reasons to die,
but search for only one reason to live.
Ask yourself which oxymoron are you?
Dying to live or living to die?
*Alexithymia
A person's inability to recognise or describe ones own emotions
* Redamancy
a love returned in full; an act of loving the one who loves you; the act of loving in return
It’s Cultural hypocrisy,
Like monks selling books on oxford street,
Like a political debate on your screens,
Like when Donald lost Queen Lizzy.
R.I.P to lil peep!
And the other 2 million that died this week,
*** faked his own death,
And it only matters if you’ve trend-set.
It’s cultural insanity,
Like Grenfall tower’s insurance fees,
The 3,000 suicides a week,
And the worst one; Love Island on your screens.
Meghan Markle’s family send their best,
Kanye says he loves Kanye West,
Like doing the floss at a dentist,
It only matters if you’ve trend-set.
It’s cultural satire comedy,
Like playing Fortnite for 2 weeks,
A hobo getting mad cause you gave him 10p,
Proudly sharing your insecurities.
I’m a vegan but sometimes I like to eat beef,
But don’t get mad, I have ADHD,
I love labels, in fact I’m obsessed,
And it only matters if you’ve trend set.
It’s culture clarity,
Like watching **** and not clearing your history,
And thinking you're as safe as safe can be,
And then seeing ads about small willies.
But none of that applies to me,
I’m obviously talking theoretically,
Changing subject... Can Ant survive without Dec?
Too soon? Or simply the latest trendset?
It’s cultural spirituality,
And I achieved enlightenment when I was three,
And then forgot what it all means,
And now I’m depressed.
It must be cause I read it on the news,
And in the papers so it must be true,
Or was it fake? I sometimes forget,
Too distracted by all the trend-sets.
It’s culture profanity,
Like your mum telling you it’s avocado for tea,
Like your grandma offering to buy you weed,
Was that just me?
I totally detest avocado for dinner,
And parents who buy their kids fidget spinners,
My patience I admit, is on the edge,
I’m sick to death of all these trend-sets.
Since when was an opinion as valid as a fact?
Since when was it ok to believe the earth is ing flat?
And we sit and wonder why we’re all so incest,
Its cause you only matters if you trendset
Yes, this culture is distracting me
And stopping me from finding peace,
By making me want to make money,
And tempting me with comedy.
So I’ll end this poem with some advice,
And I’ll try my best to make it nice,
To have a nice life, and live the best,
Do everything and anything, apart from trend-set.
It’s cultural.
In the beginning
All I ever wanted to do is talk it over
But constantly getting the cold shoulder
Causes cold hopes
You made me feel like nothing inside
And egg with no yoke
You can't be mad forever
Eventually it'll all come spilling out
I just wanted to talk
But now we've embarked on 4 month drought
You'll forgive me and I'll be long gone
Don't have Motley message me
And don't go callin John
You'll be back
You'll be back
Me and John are calling that
I'll be filling up people's prescriptions
And you'll still be making Big Macs
What are you forgiving me for anyway
For getting to know you and taking the chance
While you spill your insecurities out about your eyes and tight pants
Are you forgiving me for making think outside the box and laugh
You telling me they was taking forever to remodel your bathroom
And you had to go over your sisters house and take a bath
Was i perfect...no
But that doesn't justify the petty lies
Do you know how many times I blamed myself
Do you know how many times i curled up and cried
I never said I ddnt care about you
But I realized that I have to move on and accept the end
I just wanna talk to carry on
At this point I don't wanna be your friend
I just wanna be cordial and have nothing to do with you
Searching for forgiveness
You act this is an episode of Blue Clues
And I'm tired of searching for the clues of the real you
I rather search for Steve and Magenta
It's just started off as a big misunderstanding
Now 4 months later we have a dilemma
I'm tired of guessing
And hurting
Since I can't talk to you
My tears have to be my spokesperson
Tears talk to
But you might not like what they have to say
Cause they'll be talking about you
Don't come back
Don't come back
My heart you broke that
And in the beginning all I wanted to do is chat
You kicked me outta your life
Left me looking dumb at the door mat
You would snarl at me when I was ringing the bell and knocking
So just walking away was kinda my only option
BevelynKaye said you need some coal in your stocking
Pieces of my broken heart I got stuck sweeping and moppin
From this situation I've cried, I've tried; heart died, matured, grew
When I'm gone I know for sure you'll miss me
Picking on me
Will I miss you...
But the real question is
Should I forgive you
My heart is pounding in my chest real loud
The moment we met eye to eye in a crowd
Expressing myself in bizarre ways you don't understand
Obsessing with the past and I've lost my head in a long lost land
Mere frustration,
Taking advantage of me
Kill lamentation...
Rubble of trouble
Is what I tread on these days
I'm a grief puddle
Try to change me
Be careful, I might bite
I wanna be a part of your nightmares and haunt you with spooky glee
I might explode
Don't try my patience
Fighting an uphill battle
Racing with a thousand cattle
I'm not a good blood anymore
You are the mysterious island I explore
Speechless all the time
It's distressing honestly
Collecting gross grime
Forgiveness I need
I pray for humility
To get rid of greed
I cross my heart and I pray to God I'll be with you as long as I live
You keep telling me your insecurities and downfalls...and I'm submissive
I wear you in my memory like a tattoo on rough skin
Stay with me forever, I don't want this night to end - you're my friend and kin
I died a thousand times, trying to figure out my purpose in life
Tragedy in reverse cuts me like a jagged knife...tearing me into pieces of misery and strife
I need your sympathy and your inspiration right now
Life ain't easy, I get it, but I'm falling apart somehow
I look at you and you are the desire fire that begins to burn
Forgiveness is what you give me in return...I watch my oceans of tears churn
Is it my turn to be by your side when you're fading away?
You and I are drifting into our mindless fantasy
Faith and praise I owe
To God Most High, my Father
Who has gracious glow
Neglecting His Word -
I'm sorry I was in vain
I'm a caged-up bird
Diligence in prayer -
Haven't accomplished it yet
Angry...in error...
You walked away
You vanished suddenly
I lost the race today
Slowly, recharging my bravery
I didn't mean to start a riot
Compared to you, I'm nothing special
You were the warrior that was fought
While you're on your journey, I'll be standing tall
Pound to the rhythm of my heart
Pound to the rhythm
Pound to the rhythm of my heart
Trying to forget the shadows of you,
Deeling with fealings out of the blue
Deeling with fealings that are revealing my true colors...
My wild, reckless natures...it's hard to find emotional cures
my generation
is in need of a desperation
a new kind
these days it’s not easy to find
an utter loss of hope
something from which you cannot cope
from which you can’t escape
where can you turn, when all your “heroes” throw down their capes?
desperation
like a fish out of water
choking on air
we breathe it everyday, but how much do we truly care
does it even matter?
can we even sense the urgency?
desperation
come on now wake up it’s an emergency
an utter loss of hope
if you could feel it, could you cope?
alone
and on your own
this desperation is a ravishing hunger
one we recognize when we can’t take it any longer
come wake up, open your eyes, can you now see the situation is dire
desperation
the kind we need in this generation
my generation, is in need of desperation
but hold on now, aren’t we the invicibles
young and full of life
nothing can touch us right
so we take off, we’re in flight
Oh we’re good,so good
we’re so good at at concealing all of our insecurities their almost invisible
behind this facade, lay our secret pains and strife
we’re really paperthin chameleons
a different color for everytime we feel threatened
fragile , at any sign of emotion
can’t you sense the desperation
a lost cause
devoured by desperation
blinded, by questions
where do we go from here?
overwhelmed by out mistakes, we’ve abandoned learned lessons
but it’s so clear
we can’t see it
blinded by our dreams, hopes, and fears
desperation
look behind all the fog of misinterpretation
lets get over what he said or she said
please open your eyes
desperation
and behold the beauty
desperation
now that you can see it clearly
drop your arms and defenses
and get past all false pretenses
be vulnerable
for there’s one who won’t drop in you in his arms
so be desperatley, desperate, in despartation
he’s the one who’s already bought the youth of this nation
so all you others beware cuz we aren’t the lost cause generation
so when you’ve lost all hope
and you just can’t seem to cope
when you’re on your own
and you feel alone
just know this
the desparation you feel
it’s the real deal
cause Christ can use your desperation
and turn it into a new hope, for a new generation
these days it’s not easy to find
a certian kind
a desperation
for my generation
Form:
3
Pay attention!
Important chicken poetry coming up,
though no binary fantasies shall deconstruct
into raucous biddy enjambment.
4
Grandfatber always kicked Grandmother's chickens away
while he sat whittling under the Oak,
Those ruddy, Cherokee cheeks sweating even in the shade
as sweltering Carolina summers and bifocaled
old women melted him away in his seventies;
(Nothing heard by telephone,
cackling when he put the speaker to his mouth
or laid down to rest from the planting or harvesting,
On the flowered sofa
fussing with him to take off this boots,
putting The Liberty News under his feet);
But watching was Grandma's joy,
Haystack Calhoun and the Nature Boy,
wrestling on Saturday night
on the Philco black and white,
jumping up and jumping down
fists flying with each takedown;
Her fussing when he kicked her chickens--
He was a man of the Land not of the Leghorn;
Course he still cut off their heads for
Sunday dinners
with a whistle of his axe,
quick and clean;
So much better than Grandmother's
Flung blood and feathers,
The live body's flight
After wringing its neck.
(You really
Must take chickens seriously.)
5
Jesus,
my brother and I hated that rooster!
Mean!
I'll give you Mean!
Why that Leghorn from hell,
with the perfidious, featherless rear,
That wily old bastard,
laid for us kids from under the porch
flying at us spurs first
when we snuck out to play.
You had to admire his fierce
Protecting his brood
or just plain crazed for children's blood
maybe.
Therefore, I must insist
That you take chickens seriously.
6
The greatest chicken lit will not be televised,
but written by neurotic poultry
flirting with free verse
or thrown helplessly into concrete idioms,
wallowing in dirt-poor sentience;
Dissertations
on the identity crises of Rhode Island Reds
and the propensity of White Leghorns
to transfer insecurities of undifferentiated
consciousness
as violence enacted on certain small children
will be written but will probably not help chicken poetry endure.
7
Yet,
I pledge allegiance to the celebration of chicken poetry,
And the underappreciated poultry for which it stands,
One species, flightless but enduring,
With free range and corn for all.