Long Reinvention Poems
Long Reinvention Poems. Below are the most popular long Reinvention by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reinvention poems by poem length and keyword.
Today, my hair is jazz—
wild coils improvising in the wind,
syncopated with no apology.
It scats when I walk,
riffs when I laugh,
and plays the truth off-key
because it knows perfection
never wrote a song worth singing.
Yesterday, it was a sonnet:
tight bun, precise,
each strand obeying metre,
a form I wore to keep from unravelling.
There is comfort in structure,
even if it strangles,
even if it silences the wild in me.
Blowout days mean confidence,
glossy, straight,
as if I’ve smoothed over
every crack in my voice.
But don’t be fooled—
sometimes silence wears a shine,
sometimes the most composed
are the ones unravelling inside.
When grief came,
I braided it into my scalp,
a crown of patience and ache.
Each plait a prayer I didn’t know I was saying,
a slow weaving of control
over what refused to stay.
My fingers worked like monks,
copying sorrow into scripture—
faith in motion,
faith without answers.
I dye it pink when I need to scream
without opening my mouth—
a neon flare of defiance,
a riot bottled in candyfloss.
I’ve been burgundy in heartbreak,
blonde in reinvention,
green when I needed to feel anything
besides invisible.
I shave it down when
the world feels too loud—
when my scalp needs to breathe,
when I crave the unfiltered truth
of being raw and unbeautiful.
It’s like clearing the static
from a radio that’s lost its station,
listening for the silence underneath
the noise of trying too hard.
There are days I leave it uncombed,
unapologetically wild,
because healing is messy
and I no longer care to pretend.
Some knots are earned,
some tangles are sacred.
My hair remembers every hand
that touched me too roughly,
and every hand that lingered
just long enough to soften the story.
Don’t ask why I change it.
Ask what it’s saying.
Ask what I’m trying not to say aloud.
My hair is my composition—
a score of moods,
an orchestration of memory.
It is mourning, reinvention,
a hymn, a scream,
a truth that begins at the root
and rises without permission.
Every strand a line of poetry
I was brave enough to grow.
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/
welcome misunderstanding
of your motives & your feelings,
because if they knew exactly what you meant,
what you needed, what you wanted &
you knew the same regarding what came from
them, then there would be no more
conversation & hence no more joke-producing
material, hence no chance to make another
acquaintance in this period of life that
we seem to think is our own---
but in the absence of free will,
in the absence of all the demands pressed upon
by those who want us to be held responsible
for our pre-determined genetic programming &
in the absence of all the stabbing pain caused
by individuals who seem to think that someone
else is watching, that someone else is gonna
bring it all back to square one,
free of human bias---welcome their own
misunderstanding, for we’re only as right as
the method of investigation proclaims &
finding more evidence is key to standing
straight & true with a clear conscience.
welcome the pain when it comes,
because it will & though it may subside,
it will show its face again---you know it
already has & so it will again, but it allows
one to identify those moments when it seems
far away & to drench in the pleasure of a
day with minimalized stress.
sum it all up in a statement,
take it to the shredder & start again & start
again, drink it all up by the bottle,
now smash the bottle & start again, play it
all in a song with the geetar, now ya smash
that geetar (or pluck all the strings out like
they been goin’ out of style), now find a new
instrument & start again---
welcome
reinvention &
welcome
another
possible
you, free of
what others want
from you, free from
what others want you
to be,
free of
finishing this very piece
with any sense of
conclusive
meaning.
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
Torrid sunshine blisters reign on pavement,
that colour coded coffee stain slipway,
bearer of insole-laden footwear,
open source channel for glib hot air calculus from starchy social climber, stock market drivel flies off tongue,
strolling human morph blasé with pin pad digit as foundation.
Monumental science, deep seat hi tech driver,
gigabyte trencherman data daze diet.
Brain spur gourmet chew astride.
Former high school swot an Eiffel Tower skyline ace thrust upon a thrill weaver gold rush,
never found but one can always dream.
YouTube zeitgeist earthling
has this inner sense of being from another planet,
this quaint fast lane time zone voyageur.
Like house trained pets they watch their owner grudgingly abandon sham control.
Wafer thin leash a scrimshaw ornament.
The plot thickens but somehow comes undone,
bit part player yearns holistically for untangled bits with interlocking act,
in depth scene dialogue now bill topper if only it would last.
They long for blue flag coast escape,
homely hide out guest house fringe found loitering perniciously or otherwise.
Birdhouse green leaf copycat
assembly for well intentioned like minds that rarely think alike unless it suits.
Caught between ephemeral impasse and amber moon orb dalliance, their noble quest waylay but an out of date signage in urgent need of reinvention.
he used to think of himself as a partner father and professional guy
yet inside of himself he was lonely despondent isolated from himself
a doer controller and protagonist without personal truth or emotion
as a child he was taught that feelings would only diminish success
whereas rational reflection would gain power and knowledge
became a lover without honest attachment a passionate denier of togetherness
fell apart got depressed and sought the solution in alcohol and stupor
until carnage wreckage dissolution and grief became a questionable friend
even with his new soulmate twin flame companion and confidant
life became burdensome as he fulfilled the providence of desperate void
something had to give for shackles contempt agony and self-pity to dissolve
for the past be forgiven the present to engage with and a future to happen
egocide to master his overpowering shadows became the only feasible option
with nowhere to go but inside he prayed for serenity and harmonious peace
he would not have found a favourable outcome without friends and support
accepting help therefore turned out to be liberating humbling and joyous
today he lives a simple life in quietude not easy but with the promise of recovery
as he trudges the road of happy destiny in meditation one step at a time
Some things lie deep within
Too far away and out of reach
We might feel bad and exhausted
But still we can take a stand
Sometimes drowning
Words come out like mourning
In the silence of a morning
Sleeping too long
Barely knowing where to belong
Another day gone by
There is so much deep within
The miracles we hold
Or so I was told
Inner richness
No surrender
I grasp my best secrets
And hold them tight
Through the night
And into the light
Been too desperate
When it was time to shine
And had my best moments
When no one expected
Incarnation
Reinvention
There is magic in the worst moments
There is a tomorrow in every sorrow
No lost fight
A future bright
But full of heavy stones
Pain and suffering
Just part of life
We know where we belong
We fancy to be perfect
But break like bones
There is a calm after each storm
There is home
I cannot stand the silence for too long
And then words come pouring down like rain
They could drive you mad or just insane
They come for you in your notorious day dreams
There is a large spider you have to feed
There are days that make you bleed
Make you feel incomplete
Make you tremble and forget
What you most regret
I neglect
But protect
My memories
Nothing matters more
Than being true to yourself
Come what may
Each and every day
MATERIAL SQUIRREL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once was an offbeat squirrel named *Madonna,
In sequins and sparkles, she fashioned herself a prima donna.
She shopped till she dropped,
Buying beads and clothes, nonstop
Saying “I’m a material squirrel in a material world, uh huh!”
In the forest, she performed most every night,
Dancing under the moon's luminescent light.
She sang, “I'm a material squirrel,”
Her voice loudly did unfurl.
“With acorns and bling, my life on stage is bright!"
Why gather just nuts?” she was heard to declare,
“When diamonds and gems are priceless, and rare!”
With a flick of her tail,
She forged a fashionable trail,
“I’m a diva squirrel with style beyond compare!
Note*“Madonna Louise Ciccone an American singer, songwriter, record producer, and actress. Referred to as the "Queen of Pop", she has been recognized for her continual reinvention and versatility in music production, songwriting, and visual presentation…Her popular song, "Material Girl," is a synth-pop song by Madonna from her 1984 album Like a Virgin. The song expresses her preference for material wealth over romance and became a pop culture icon.” (Source Wikipedia.com)
Remembering the strands that fell
Rooted in the thought that vanity would be insanity
A failed attempt seen through photons
Not even the might of the concept could rid the despair
As appeal dove further, death teased tangibility.
Sacrifices were made, images were lost
Reinvention became an aspiration; commitment, an opposition
Relationships concluded with responses never realised
A stalemate was bound, idealism overwhelmed action
Words stopped flowing, ink could not find a way beyond.
Costs became measured, pleasures against priorities
Values spoken too often neglected, gaining attention
Balance edging, trade-offs made
Indulgences steep, guilt-filled purchases relieved
Success could have been had, if only clarity was grasped.
Acquaintances soared, friends were few
Growth was seen as a choice, no longer circumstance
'Laughs' were inhibition to fertile opportunities
Seriousness became possessive, humor was unheard
Mental stimulation thought, interest never piqued.
Letting go saw material shed
Comfort in a cushion, subject to hours
A pursuit of peace, eternity if permitted Regret was cumulative, parting left pieces undone
Identity a possibility, that withered without a bloom.
Form:
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)