A mirror isn't just a frame,
A sheet of glass that speaks your name.
It shows your image. Yes, it's true–
But now the whole of what is you.
It doesn't bend, it doesn't fake,
It captures truths you cannot break.
But mirror hide in the other forms–
In quiet thoughts, in silence storms.
In words that bruise, in eyes that know,
In shadows you still fear to show.
Not every mirror dare to shine–
some show the crack you called divine.
So ask yourself what mirrors mean–
They’re more than Polished, silver, clean.
They’re, everything that lays you bare–
Your secret grief, your silent prayers,
The mirror speaks without a sound–
It sees the soul where truth is found.
~hira~
A mirror isn't just a frame,
A sheet of glass that speaks your name.
It shows your image. Yes, it's true–
But now the whole of what is you.
It doesn't bend, it doesn't fake,
It captures truths you cannot break.
But mirror hide in the other forms–
In quiet thoughts, in silence storms.
In words that bruise, in eyes that know,
In shadows you still fear to show.
Not every mirror dare to shine–
some show the crack you called divine.
So ask yourself what mirrors mean–
They’re more than Polished, silver, clean.
They’re, everything that lays you bare–
Your secret grief, your silent prayers,
The mirror speaks without a sound–
It sees the soul where truth is found.
The mirror of a life that’s mine
Sits journeyed in the wall.
The face is young, its glance is not,
As old and young recall.
The answer, fading, pauses there
Though burning in the mind,
Young again to feel the world,
Yet aged well like fine wine.
We can just once have been there young,
Where now we cast, as old -
Our image into moistened eye,
Both now and then, to hold.
Picture you inside your mind
who you are and what you find.
Your image did not develop overnight
long and slow did your self image sight.
The picture is not in another mind,
what they perceive or what they find.
That image of who they think they see,
is not what your inner self might be.
Imposed by others, data may flawed be,
Your inner self they can not see.
Parents and peers, trauma and tears,
All shape self image through the years.
Picture you inside your mind
who you are and what you find.
Ask yourself if this picture is right and true,
is it exactly what God above says of you?
not grounding mentality
in bounds of reality
vows turn unverifiable
truth becoming pliable
judgments unreliable
when the working of our brain
leads toward being less sane
few usually agree
about structure of life's key
existence is that which is
beyond schemes in sales pitches
theories in various niches
worth being more selective
in forming of perspective
the self-image we maintain
was created by our brain
designed and fabricated
by what recall dictated
and ego then inflated
not altering that which be
only what mind thinks it sees
Be kind but not weak
Be strong without falling into cruelty
Be who you want to be without crafting a false identity
Be someone worth knowing
they tell you
you hog the sun
so you shed your leaves
and thin your branches
for others to take
what was already theirs
if only they grew
as beautiful and strong
as you
there once was a woman named Mimi
she never would wear a bikini
when she was asked why
she didn’t blink an eye
said, “I’ve eaten too much linguine!”
Mirror mirror,
on the wall,
who will catch me,
if i fall?
it won’t be you,
stood over there,
only there for me,
when i feel the need to stare,
Why trust a mirror ?
if it changes your perspective,
when all really shows,
is a false reflective.
a mirror will only shows you,
what’s skin deep,
but not the way your hair lies,
when you are asleep.
mirrors don’t see,
and they certainly won’t look any harder,
so know off that chip,
that’s stuck on your shoulder.
never trust a mirror,
it can be filled with lies,
because all of your hopes and dreams,
come from the inside.
you’re beauty is there,
so don’t feel the need to compare,
when the mirror over there,
really doesn’t care.
a mirror won’t ever show,
how special you really are,
it’ll only show your flaws,
and all of your scars.
don’t worry about the mirror,
that just captures the outside,
because all of your worth,
is right on the inside.
mirror mirror on the wall,
i will catch myself,
if i fall.
Help me to
find identity in you
understand my worth
value your standards
recognize my unique qualities
designed by you
Lord, to you I pray
Help me to
appreciate me
see myself the way you see me
understand that you Lord
fashioned me too a little lower than the angels
view you as my author and designer
Lord, before you these things I lay
Help me to
see you crowned me with glory and honor too
know you made me to have dominion over the creation as well
understand you put all things under my feet to boot
ask you to quiet the voice that whispers otherwise
seek your satisfaction and yours alone
Lord, I utter your praise today
Help me to
hear your voice
taste your perfection
realize you will make my life successful
comprehend I have no power
perceive all power is yours, Father Yah
Lord, give me ears to say
Love hearts and scabby knees.
Dead flies and stinging bees.
Dirty nails and sweaty lips.
Fishnets with ragged slips.
Eyeholes in a hessian sack.
Pimples on a tattooed back.
Toys that she just can’t unpack.
Helen.
Secret Helen.
Lies from a mother’s heart.
Secrets that fell apart.
Beauty too divine to see.
As purple as a Judas Tree.
Singing from her cradle jail.
A baby crying weak and frail.
Giggle, breathe, inhale, exhale.
Helen
Splintered Helen.
An infantile brutalist.
A wide-awake somnambulist.
Mamma’s bile and Daddy’s fist.
A kiss, a slap a broken wrist.
She hides within a dark recess.
She dances with her own distress.
A monster wearing fancy dress.
Helen
Sacred Helen.
Fantasies of guilt and sin.
Concealed beneath a slab of skin.
Loathe the self and stunt the flesh.
Her impotence and spite enmesh.
To love the girl, she veils the face.
To save the world from its disgrace.
Before she leaves without a trace.
Helen
Shiny Helen.
Staring in the cracked reflector
She feels a powerful sense
To make amends, to apologize
And to commit recompense
Struggling to find the words
And spew her apologies far
Her troubles are hardly over
There’s nothing to apologize for
They tell her and tell her and tell her again
But believing is half of the cure
She’s not a bad person, she hasn’t sinned
Of that everyone is sure
But to take it to heart
And believe it for real
They know that it’s hard
And they simply feel
That the effort and work
And empathy
Impossible to do
Through the apathy
But maybe in days
Or weeks or years
She’ll see through the fog
And finally hear
The truth that’s been
In front of her nose
She might be unsure
But the people know
People are people
Rarely good or bad
And she’s a good friend
People wish they had
***
7/27/2020
Muse Poetry Contest
Regina McIntosh
You are so very weird
Your weirdness shines true
There are so very few,
Who are weirder than you.
You see, weirdness is relative
Weirdness is wacky
But the right kind of weirdness
Makes true weirdos happy
If you were not weird
Well that would be weird
Weirder than the fact
That weirdness is feared
roses are white
and although that’s a lie
color doesn’t change
the beauty inside
The Demon walks with shadowy arms that secretly seize the lost changeling who is bred in the psychosis of knowing the "anti-life" wherein he walks.
With Demon whispers the darts and arrows of discontent are filled with voices piteous yet immense
"You cannot ever..." "You never will!" "You are never good enough"
He is the monster of forsaken ideation, the one that mindfully will leverage his own exalted throne so you can bow down to him
He muses over his magic to fragment any semblance of contentment or happiness
He throws you in a sewer of wicked, twisted aberrations with no return
He smothers you in a cesspool of begotten history
The Demon shackles you within a vile black bevel of impassable consequences
Within the gears and inner workings of some grotesque derelict clock eternally ticking yet never changing the hour
He puts his foot upon your heart while pushing you to the brink of falling
Into a sinkhole of this grim and dreadful illusion of no resolution
This Dire Demon who's devised the "drug" of choice is the highest bidder
To choose to die before one lives!
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