Long Talking about Poems

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Ascent and Descent

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.
© Reya Suri  Create an image from this poem.


Halloween

I’m sitting in a dark, nothing but a T.V. on.
I’m watching horror movies, or am I watching paint dry.
I see people, I see faces, but I still can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched.
A scream I hear, I chalk it up to the T.V.
A rat-tat-tat, on the door, only to see no one,
I’m not sure I even moved.
I’ve been sleep deprived for days, but today, on the most holy of holy days,
I cannot sleep.
Today is a day of celebration.
For once, the evil, the dark, the macabre, it’s celebrated.
My interest aren’t looked down on, they are praised.
I think to myself, maybe I should makes something, to commemorate
the occasion.
I step to the kitchen, pull out a knife, and begin carving the first thing in sight.
Tonight, it was a pig.
I think last year it was like a bumble-bee or something, I don’t know, it was making a lot of noise and I just wanted some peace.
Either way, after trimming the fat, I had to clean up a bit.
The phrase, bleeding like a stuck pig, totally true.
Blood got everywhere, this is gonna take so much bleach to clean.
So I shove it in the oven, mouth watering at the thought of the sandwich I’m gonna make when it comes out.
I knew animals fought,
But this one fought like it really didn’t wanna be dinner.
I just hit it with the pumpkin it carried.
A few hours pass, and the pig is done.
I trim off the hair, and then the skin.
I can’t stand the skin, so stretchy and not tasty.
It’s like eating elastic, or a shirt or something stupid like that.
Either way, I peel back the skin-and I indulge myself.
Normally I go for the entrails first, but tonight is special.
I go straight for the brains.
So tasty, with just a tinge or copper, or was it iron, I’m not sure
Either way, it was salty, and metallic, and delicious.
I only treat myself to this kind of meal on the special days of the year,
You know the days I’m talking about
Easter, July 4th, tonight
Those days, they are wonderful
So yeah, the screams were annoying, but they stopped now
All that I hear is some laughing, and my own noise
Tap-tap-tap-squish
Tap-tap-squish-tap
It felt divine.
Then it all ended, someone said my time was up.
That pig’s blood went everywhere
Everywhere. It was intense
After all of that, I’m back in front of the T.V.
I’m really not sure if it was a T.V. or a wall.
The first thing I remember other than that night,
Was asking the guards if I could watch Silence of the Lambs on Halloween.

Moving On

You don’t have to say I love you for someone to know 
You think someone means it just cause they say it, no 
I’ve tried all my life to find out what love means 
I thought it was easy, but trust me, it’s a lot harder than it seems 
God gave me the gift, he gave me the ability to write 
But that’s hard to do when you’ve lost your sight 
I’m not talking about my literal eyes
I lost the ability to see a future without my demise 
I see a broken man, with one too many bandages
When you pray for strength, God will give you challenges 
You have to overcome them in order to become strong 
I thought I had strength, but it turns out I was weak all along  
I’m nothing without you Lord, and that’s what really scares me
I sacrifice myself for others all the time, cause it’s my own worth that I can’t see
It’s easy to pretend to be something you’ll never be 
When I look back at it now, it’s actually pretty funny 
I look in the mirror and laugh at myself 
Did I think they would remember me as a friend or as something else 
Maybe a hero, someone admirable 
But then I realize that word is unfathomable  
Cause you can never give what you don’t have 
Maybe that’s why no one around me can find happiness or a reason to laugh 
I’ve been searching for a reason to even exist 
I hope someone relates to the heart I put in this 
Been alone my whole life, but not by choice
God’s the only one that’s ever heard my true voice 
My fiancée left me for a person I called friend 
If my life were a book, after that, it’d say The End 
Or maybe not cause I’m still here 
But if I ever saw her again, I’d say dear 
Thank you for teaching me that all I ever wanted was to feel wanted 
At first, when I thought of you, I was only haunted 
By the thought of never being good enough
3 years together and you broke up with me over Facebook, man that’s tough 
But now I can look back and smile cause we just weren’t right for each other 
You’re the reason I value the relationships I have more, why I can call someone my brother
So thank you again, cause you taught me how precious it is to find something genuine 
Cause that’s what lasts forever, and if it’s fake well forget it then 
I don’t have time or room in my life for fake
I need to be more like you God every moment that I wake 
You just read a page from my diary 
But don’t think with that, you can ever define me
© Samson Lee  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Couplet

My Lovely Hate Speech

Open Letter to you,

MY LOVELY HATE SPEECH
I hate my speech today, yesterday and the day dust rises.
I was there opening my eyes carelessly, smiling like an idiot
I was gazing shamelessly, walking like an idler without course
Little did I notice my vehicle lose direction; little did I notice my head bleeding
I was just there; the settled dust rising, tables turning, grenades and bullets are now apples
Little did I know the power in my lovely hate speech. 

What pride did we get after slaughtering fellow Kenyans like goats,
What are the stuttering rifles rattling about, are humans turning game,
What are the grenades doing in civilian pockets, are they keys
Why are the churches burning, you cannot tell me tis the holy ghost fire,
What has that neighbour done, why is that policeman lying there,
Why is no body answering me, am I alone, or are you wondering too
Should I assess the power in my lovely hate speech, am concerned.

My love speech I hate you, my hate speech I love you
Both speeches are one, are the same, of same taste, I hate my passion for you
I love my fellow politician, i love his dirge during my friend’s burial
You bleeding mammoth my friend, I like your corrupt tummy
You scavenger of your own carcass, I like your greed for power
You megalomaniac virus of a beloved country, we love you, let us be
Little do we know death will let you release us, How uncertain are we of you.

My eyes are full of your ocean, the palace you exhume immorality
My ears are preoccupied with your desert, the desert devoid of trust, and the just
My nostrils have your pungent infamy, your callous greed, your everything
My mind can’t decipher the thought of your sanity, your policies and you
You make me lose taste, you make me look like you, you make me you
I am youthful to the economy, i am youthful to the wise, am not youthful to your “youth”
Little do i know death will let you release me, How uncertain am i of you.

Am talking about you, what have i said about me? What?
I hope I know the promise in my Kenyan Anthem
I hope I have a plan of getting rid of the chaff, the you
I hope am not you, i hope you don’t like seeing me wise
I hope your son is listening, the son that wants my very own daughter
I hope am the government, the government of me, for me and by me
I hope i know peace, the peace am preaching, the peace you hate. I hope.


Yours Kenyan,
Mzee Emmanuel Mwau.

Premium Member Better Side

woo oh, woo oh, oh oh oh
woo oh, woo oh, oh oh woooh...
I wanna be there in a better well;
I wanna go where there is happiness,  still;
Forever and a day;
Where we can sing, and dance and pray;
Sing hallelujah, each and everyway, for always, for always.,..
for ALWAYS...

I wanna go to the better side;
where my spirit will be free;
and I..
won't have to ever die no more, no, no;
I'll live rejoicing in liberty and my soul will;;
sing forever praising the joys;
for my God is great
and He will constantly provide for me
forever, forever, forever;

(from Anthology  "Reverence" by James E. Lee Sr.  6/ 2017
I wanna go where God resides;
I wanna go to the better side;
no need to hide, no need to cry;
I am better now, cause I'm on the better side;

Happiness is where Jesus dwells;
No more death nor sorrow wails;
I'm gonna be forever happy here;
In the arms of my Father;

I wanna be there for a better well;
I wanna go where happiness dwells, and..
For ever and a day;
We will sing, dance and pray;
Forever in eternity singing hallelujah;

I wanna go to the better side;
Where my spirit will be free;
I wanna go to the better side;
Where I will be His bride;
And forever and all eternity, I'm gonna be free;
Everlasting forever in His arms I'll be embraced
On the better side;
I wanna go where I know my great-great grandmother is;
I wanna live with Jesus and all my cousins and them;
I want to abide with the angels and my ancestry pride;
Live and be alive with my God on the better side;
My grand parents went to the sweet by N by...
I want to live where, there's no more weather....
Where there'll be nothing but God's cover...
I am talking bout' HEAVEN..
the better side Heaven
the better side, the better side
Heaven
the better side, the better side
Heaven is the better side, the better side;
I wanna  go where I know my Savior is;
I wanna go  where God lives;
I want to abide with my God on the better side;
Be with my grand parents on the sweet by N by...
I want to live where, there's no more weather...
I wanna be where forevermore under God's cover...
What am I talking about..
This is what I am talking about
I am talking bout' HEAVEN, HEAVEN;
I wanna go where I know my Savior is..
Where God lives....
Heaven
I wanna go to the better side;
that better side is...
Heaven;
I wanna go to the better side;
Form: Lyric


To the Friend That I Lost

thank you. thank you for finally leaving. it's been 7 years now that i have had to put up with your abusive and toxic habits. that i've had to deal with you adding to my emotional trauma every single day. that i've had to repress my feelings to accommodate yours. that i've had to act like something isn't bothering me when you're talking about your issues that are "far worse than mine". that i've had to leave my comfort zone and be a person i don't like so that you wouldn't leave. that i've had to be okay with being interrupted so you could talk about yourself. so you could brag about how much greater or worse your life is than mine, whichever fit the situation. that i've had to believe your lies and defend you when i know you're wrong. that i've had to look like a bad person for supporting you. 

because i was. 
you made me a bad person. you made me into a person that i've grown to hate. i am finally released and trying to love the person i left behind. before our friendship, i was a sweet, innocent, caring 8 year old girl. you ruined me. you took my innocence. i remember lying in my floor from "bedtime" to 6 AM doing things that no 8 year olds should. Watching scary movies that still haunt me and discovering “omegle”. i remember in 8th grade when i opened up to you about the girl you left behind when you moved, the girl that you broke. i opened up to you about my sexuality and my depression, and you brushed it off because you had it worse. "oh, you were depressed? that’s okay because my dad hit me". not that abuse isn't awful, but i have feelings too. and since that day i learned to never find myself important because to you, i wasn’t. you showed me that no matter how hurt i was, you had it worse. that no matter how good i had it, you had it better. you always had to one up me like trauma is a competition. 

i am damaged. you broke me. i can’t even begin to describe the issues i will hold for the rest of my life. this trauma will never be fixed. i can’t undo your damage, no one can. do you even realize? do you even care? i am a real human being that you f*cked up. how does that sit right with you? how do you have the nerve to act like I’m the bad guy? i will never understand how you don’t even care about a real human life that you ruined. 

but i guess that’s the difference between you and i. 


( lowercase intended )

-m. macleish
Form: Prose

Not a Poem This Is a Short Story

There I was just chillen with all my homeies in the big zip block bag. We were all talking about the latest ozome spray, and we were wondering if it would work on us, since our scents were pretty potent. We all just were hanging out when suddenly we felt the dresser draw open. Sock after sock were moved until the tuber ware container  we lived in was found. The sound of the struggle they made to open the tuber ware scared us, but then we heard the popping sound and knew it was open.  “Who would it be?” we all thought impatiently. There was just  so many varieties of us to choose from, it was crazy. Afghan, Afghani, Alaskan Thunder**** ,Black Widow ,Blue Dream, Blueberry , Buddha, Cali Dream, Cali Gold, Caribbean Dream, or me Hash. We all were anxious to see who it would be today. We never knew, the big hand would come in and just choose so many of us at different times that we never knew what to expect. He went to the left, than he went to the right, and then he went to the center; and looked dead in at me. Everyone turned around and stared at me. I didn’t know what to do! I didn’t know what to say. Dead silent, it was pure dead silence when I looked to my left, to make a run for it, whoosh their I go! Up in the air, taken by the big hand! Never to see friends or loved ones again, never being able to tell them what happens up here with the big hand out from the dresser. The big hand was holding me, than there was some weird exchange with another hand and something green looking, than I was gone from that room forever. The next day, I was taken out by this new big hand. He put me in some big contraption, it said it was made of steel. He tossed me in there and, Ow! Oh the pain I cannot describe! Ow! Ow! Ow! Oh so miserable. I am in pieces, literally. I am in pieces, and some dark chamber I have never seen before. All a sudden, it opens. I am banged thumb, thumb, thumb, out onto the table. I am placed in some cylinder looking object, and thrown back together with all my pieces. While sitting there, thinking and wondering about what is going to happen to me, it suddenly gets hot. So sudden, in fact, that you ought to think somebody lit a match or something… and then… Ow! Ow! Oooh! Fire! It burns! My life! It has gone up in flames and smoke, and now I am gone! Oh how do I miss the dra-… Death, something undeniable to every human, animal, and mind.
Form: Verse

Atheists In Foxholes

Two young men in vietnam 
Sit in a foxhole one night
While chatting and talking about there families
and sharing pictures of each others wives

But along in the Dark distance
Came a bright and shimmering light
The light came down from the sky
like a shooting star in midflight

Charley was spreading
into the jungles of the night
Shouting out to one another 
Tat ca deu chet dêm nay 
which means they all die tonight 

As the men laid in the foxhole
watching people running for there life
One of the men said we must flee
the other man said not I

The one man said
In the bright shimmering light
But why does one not flee 
and run too save his own life

The other man looked deep
Deep down in the man's eyes
and says I shall do as my fathers did
I shall stay, I shall fight and I shall die

The fleeing man had a face
a face full of surprise
He asked why does thou not flee with me
on this very hour tonight

He said I just can't do it
it's not the way I was raised
my mother always taught me
to  have a little faith

See I believe in God
and I believe he has a plan
and if it's my time to go
might as well be like a man

So now do you see why,
why one does not flee tonight
why I choose to stay 
and risk my life and fight?

The fleeing man said no
and ran into the dark jungle night

So the one man kept his word
with every inch of his might
sitting in his little foxhole
and fighting throughout the rest of the night

Until his upmost surprise
came mornings first daylight
he seemed to have survived
survived for one more night

Re-gathered with his troops
all thankful to be alive
the man began to search
for his friend that ran off that night

asking all the troops
if they had seem him around
he finally came to the realization
that his friend was nowhere to be found

But he forgot to check
where he should have looked before
because there laid his friend colorless
and lifeless on the floor

So the Vietnam war ended, it took so many lives
but the man who said that he shall stay and fight
now lives at home with that same wife

for he every sunday
visits a tall white ivory stone
on the front it reads, I miss you
and I cant believe that your gone

But with all the Commemorative plaques
and monumental poles
theres one saying that still holds true
there are no atheists in foxholes
Form: Verse

Hometown Favorite

Rolling the stone                                                                                                              Is the glass half empty or half full                                                                                              I reckon that would depend on who                                                                                                        is drinking and who is pouring and how long                                                                                                                it takes for the encroaching moss to grow                                                                                                                        while they debate We load the freshly painted                                                                                                  pig into the cannon, give me freedom is heard                                                                                   as pink blur is saw around the world                                                                                                                                                     Then they give you enough rope for you to trip over                                                           like the story of the politician giggling at the stumbling block                                                                                                                                  he just placed before the blind guy, walking towards a ditch                                                                                                                                  Alright I made part of that up but how fast is fast anyway                                                                                                          in the who’s who’s of I did it my way I try to believe                                                                                                                            there is still a highway with a red shark stirring up dust                                                                                                                                       To know one is to be but weren’t  we talking about a rock                                                      Tribute to Hunter S Thompson ,from his  hometown, Suicided February 20, 2005
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.

President Trump International Fire Chief

Our dear leader
Our favorite President
President Trump
Once again

Interjected himself
Into areas that he knows nothing about
Making a fool of himself 
In the process

Why does he do this?
Time after time
Talking nonsense
It is because

He is the smartest man
In the universe
Knows more than anyone else
And so he feels

He has to comment
On everything
Under the sun
And then some more

Even when he 
Does not know 
What he is talking about
So painful to watch such a fool

Mark Twain had sage advice
If you want people to think 
You are a fool
Open your mouth 
and remove all doubt

In the midst 
Of the devastating Paris Norte Dame Fire
He tweeted 

“So horrible to watch the massive fire 
at Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris,”

“Perhaps flying water tankers 
could be used to put it out. 
Must act quickly!”

Later, Mr. Obvious noted, 

They’re having a terrible, 
terrible fire,” 

Mr Trump later told reporters. 

“It looks like it’s burning to the ground.”

The French were not amused
By the unwanted advice
By the fire fighter in chief 

France’s civil defense agency, 
Sécurité Civile, tweeted — 
once in French 
and once in English 
— less than two hours after Mr Trump 

sent his tweet 
and appeared 
to directly respond to the US president.

“Helicopter or aeroplane, 
the weight of the water 
and the intensity of the drop 
at low altitude 

could indeed weaken 
the structure of Notre Dame 
and result in collateral damage 
to the buildings in the vicinity,” 

the agency wrote in French.
And despite never posting updates in English, 
the agency then sent out a second tweet.

Hundreds of firemen of the Paris Fire Brigade are doing everything they can to bring the terrible #NotreDame fire under control. All means are being used, except for water-bombing aircrafts which, if used, could lead to the collapse of the entire structure of the cathedral.
— Sécurité Civile Fr (@SecCivileFrance) April 15, 2019

And the French provided
This helpful advice 
To the Fire Fighter in chief

When California burned 
you did not seem to be a fire expert.
 Please, shut up. 
It is a tragic moment 
for the cultural heritage of humanity.
 
april 17 poem for April Month of Poetry Challenge see Writers Digest, All Poetry and my blog, https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com for the rest
© Jake Aller  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Concrete

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