Different People, Different Personalities
There's different people with different personalities that make up who they are
Different experiences and choices that left untold scars
You have people who are introverted and or extroverted in association
Some give direct eye contact and others look away in conversation
There are those who are very opinionated while others fight battles from within
For some it takes alot to push their buttons while others are thin skin
The spotlight is very much desired by some while others feel a bit shy
You have those who just do what their told but others who ask why
You have those who break laws and would step on people's feelings
When it comes to helping other's you have those who are willing
We're different in race, height, weight and color
Some raised in families and others by a single mother
Many live on social media while others want privacy
Some live carefree while others die from anxiety
All these different personalities making up a generation
While having similar feelings and emotions in every nation
Today--
You rant,"oh boy! You too timid,
Ah! Clumsy like a sloth and white-liver'd
Like a mouse. . . Bad! Too bad!
Tomorrow --
You blare,"hush lad! You so unruly,
Oh! Obstinate like a mule and hot-head'd
Like a starved jackal . . . terrible!
So terrible!
(. . . repeatedly in the same pattern)
I don't care
For I know WHO I AM.
In moonless night's where dark personalities still reside.
Their twisted minds, where secrets often hide.
They wear masks of charm, to deceive and lure,
But beneath the surface, their motives are impure.
With silver tongues, they weave a web of lies,
Their sinister intentions hidden from our eyes.
They prey on trust, exploit our hopes and dreams,
Leaving wounds unseen, shedding crocodile tears.
Beware the danger that these beings pose,
For in their wake, confusion grows.
They manipulate, control, and undermine,
Leaving shattered lives and hearts to pine.
But in the light of truth, we'll find our way,
Expose their darkness, make them rue the day.
For unity and love can conquer hate,
And in the end, it's goodness that we as humans celebrate.
How can you be ice and fire at the same time?
How can you be docile and fierce at the same time?
How can you smile and frown at the same time?
How can you shine and dim at the same time in my mind?
How can you be more lost whenever I try to find?
How can you be my light when you are the dark mine?
How can you be my path when you are the barrier in sight?
Maybe, I got you wrong.
We’re born with personalities
Our parents help to shape,
But once the mold is set in place,
There isn’t an escape.
So if you’re anxious, shy or quiet,
Maybe insecure,
The odds of turning that around
Are fair to even poor.
Those confident, outgoing types
Appear to be in luck,
For in those roles, as they grow up,
They’re fortunately stuck.
Of course, some change is possible,
Or so said Dr. Freud.
If not, then psychotherapists
Would all be unemployed.
PERSONALITIES
aside
&
intertwined
separations
& reconciliations
professed
in
such
devotion
stimulated
&
appealing
a
lapsed
recreation
a kaleidoscopic
cascade
in
a
collage of
animated
patterns
united
raptures
fashioned to
linger
in
virtual reality
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
I do not want to buy any holiday junk.
But wait! I do because there is a demonic side
She thinks mechanical Santas are cute
She likes Valentines Day Cupids too
She is nutty about March leprechauns
I find myself stocking up on flag plates
By the Fourth of July we will not find them
There is always next year I tell the others
Some of my sides smirk. Some are snide.
My prissy muse, Trixie, takes out a pen.
Put that away! Yells Back to School Self.
It's not school time yet! I roll my eyes.
I confidently plunk down a sentence.
Trixie smacks my fingers. Too blah, too trite, too common.
My confidence rears up, angry at her critique.
Who made you the boss of us?
My other personalities begin to take sides.
Jack is always on my side, of course.
Molly wavers between Trixie One and Trixie Two.
Oh, man! I had not even thought about Trixie Too.
She heard the thought and here she came to bite me,
pinch me, torment me, and tell me how she felt about the sentence.
I watched her tear it into bits. She walked away abruptly.
That’s all you got? I thought.
Trixie slapped me. She is going for the kerosene and a lighter, you idiot.
I cannot help but wonder what a world without muses and multiple personalities is like.
Split personalities, if you found in a husband,
There is some plus, the circumstances under.
He will be twice as active in the bed!
But, here is a minus, he will eat more, squared.
Did you write that line
no i thought it was you
nope i was having a nap
What about you in the back
shook his head with some lack
Alright raise your hand
which of us wrote it
who took my turn
if none of us wrote it
how did it appear
is there something else in here
Young ladies drink nitroglycerin
They would never hurt a fly
Please forgive them for their sins
They commit murders by mistake
It was an accident or a bad day
Let us pray
When they see God for the first time
They burp but not on purpose
He is much taller in person
Their friends from the west coast say
God carries a purse and has no gender
Silly people
What were they thinking
He is not from LA or Earth
If you curse He will forgive you
If you explode you are on your own
So many voices, some pulling, others pushing, one spearing.
I feel the spear, and know she will not stop until I acknowledge her
What is it?
What do you want?
She gives me some directives knowing I will rebel
and rebuke them.
She never gets her way.
She wants me to do things she knows I will not do.
I hate medicines! I tell her. They do not affect me like others.
Leave me alone! But still she persists. Two are pulling, one is pushing.
She is screaming, shrieking, wailing, keening in my ear.
I take a couple of blues and a pink,
to try and fool her.
She knows what I am about.
For she is in my mind’s folds and recesses.
Another personality shows up.
A new one.
What the hell.
I thought I knew them all.
Crap! Crap! Crap! Crap! Crap!
My hands are shaky.
If she is another spearing one,
I give up.
I cannot do this any more.
I have tried too long already.
I am Sherenna, she says, seductively.
Hell no. I already got rid of Dixie, my other nymphomaniac.
I close my eyes, trying to drown them all out.
Shut up
Sit Down
Pay attention
The Committee of Me is about to call a meeting.
No one cares
No one listens.
They are all doing their own thing
As usual
Listen, I say sternly.
This is important.
Matters not. We are each our own person
Not enemies, but certainly not friends.
Loud and proud Caren is off in the other room
Showing off a magic trick that works for no one
except her.
Oppositional Caren is sitting next to me staring into
space, arms folded, swinging upper leg, yet, without
realizing it.
Peacock Caren is working the room, prancing and preening,
her new jacket, at the forefront of her one-track mind.
I give up,
and so does myself.
No one cares.
Personalities, no names just the same
personalities, say what you will, after
swallowing a mediocrity pill...personalities
self inflicted pain, bold lies told
protect and defend at all costs
in the middle, I can’t stop
I want to but for pieces and parts
say NO way
samurai swordsmen conspiratorial debut
punctuated by delusion of self
even when I don’t know, I know
even when I know, I don’t know
Progress debuts again without reframe
Tired, sick of and too...
moaning with heaviness, inflexibility
what do I want, what do I do?
I only compare myself to six
Trixie is fierce and independent
Biting and clawing her way to the top
of the totem pole
in the form of a hawk
We back off and let her be
Faerie Queen is a good girl,
doing what she can to keep peace
soothing everyone except
Trixie whom she avoids
flying away, fear of being eaten
Sam is a black puma,
with a thick tail,
He looks at you with those
slanted green eyes, and you
know you have been devoured
and eaten, back broken, head first
No one double crosses Sam
Marta is pure mess
She loves piles upon piles upon piles
Sorting and cleaning are things she scoffs
Feeling her creativity would die if she did
Cassha is curiously flitting from idea to ideal
Searching in vain for something new in the world
Marveling at anything she finds that she had never
dreamed of or found before
Ph'la is a pouter. She wants her own way
Gets angry mad and fast if she does not get it.
We all steer clear of her,
hoping she will not move our face.
Our face is a pure glare when Ph'la is in charge of us.
Trixie and Faerie Queen together cannot fix the face
after Ph'la gets going. We are trying though, we truly are.
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