Identity Poems
untitled
by Joe Curry
“it’s okay” they said
“we all have our own path of growth deeply individualized by our past”
“to denounce who you were and to agree with your self hatred means i strayed away from my path, backpedaling”
“you were who you were and you are who you are, just as she is and they are”
“the ones who care too much for your journey and tread along beside obsessed with you lose focus of where they are going surely to trip on the way, taking a detour on a crossroad of unfated destiny, but that is now their path, again greatly impacted by where they were and where they thought they were going”
“a long winded way to say to each his own”
they told me this unsbject of selfishness or deviance
“i love you and we will go our separate ways, alleys, avenues, and one day i hope to meet you at the end of a corridor. you, ready with stories to pour out of your heart, i will sit there patiently astounded by who you’ve become beaming at the grace that our paths crossed”
Take The I Out
by Sharon Olds
But I love the I, steel I-beam
that my father sold. They poured the pig iron
into the mold, and it fed out slowly,
a bending jelly in the bath, and it hardened,
Bessemer, blister, crucible, alloy, and he
marketed it, and bought bourbon, and Cream
of Wheat, its curl of butter right
in the middle of its forehead, he paid for our dresses
with his metal sweat, sweet in the morning
and sour in the evening. I love the I,
......
O Me! O Life!
by Walt Whitman
O ME! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless--of cities fill'd with the
foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I,
and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light--of the objects mean--of the
struggle ever renew'd;
Of the poor results of all--of the plodding and sordid crowds I see
around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest--with the rest me
......
September On Jessore Road
by Allen Ginsberg
Millions of babies watching the skies
Bellies swollen, with big round eyes
On Jessore Road--long bamboo huts
Noplace to shit but sand channel ruts
Millions of fathers in rain
Millions of mothers in pain
Millions of brothers in woe
Millions of sisters nowhere to go
......
Passport
by Mahmoud Darwish
They did not recognize me in the shadows
That suck away my color in this Passport
And to them my wound was an exhibit
For a tourist Who loves to collect photographs
They did not recognize me,
Ah... Don't leave
The palm of my hand without the sun
Because the trees recognize me
Don't leave me pale like the moon!
......
untitled
by Joe Curry
“it’s okay” they said
“we all have our own path of growth deeply individualized by our past”
“to denounce who you were and to agree with your self hatred means i strayed away from my path, backpedaling”
“you were who you were and you are who you are, just as she is and they are”
“the ones who care too much for your journey and tread along beside obsessed with you lose focus of where they are going surely to trip on the way, taking a detour on a crossroad of unfated destiny, but that is now their path, again greatly impacted by where they were and where they thought they were going”
“a long winded way to say to each his own”
they told me this unsbject of selfishness or deviance
“i love you and we will go our separate ways, alleys, avenues, and one day i hope to meet you at the end of a corridor. you, ready with stories to pour out of your heart, i will sit there patiently astounded by who you’ve become beaming at the grace that our paths crossed”
Xxxxx
by Cole HuberXxxxx.
Continue readingForgotten Self
by Annie Pink
Feeling much more than is human,
My soul, be free from this mortal strains.
Floating because I will fall
Preparing for reality to swallow me whole.
Drunken on immortal panic,
New born ecstasy floods my veins.
Longing to feel the universe
......
Identity Crisis
by Rumi Ullidov
Should I be called Mero, Hero, or Romero?
The creator of Rome, or a sublime tyrant-
meandering in a capitalist maze-
where cows their milk drink and throw it up.
What am I but a swift melody
in the Lost Forests of Latin America,
never heard (do I even exist?).
Psychedelic experiences - extraterrestrial-
cruising in the Milky Way, on a white Toyota.
20% beast, 30% baby, 50% thoughts.
......
Don't Forget
by Author Reinvented
Don't forget, don't forget who you are,
Keep fighting to find yourself.
Don't listen, Don't listen to those voices,
That keep telling you who you should be.
All over are other people's reflections.
In a maze of mirrors, think twice before you choose yourself.
......
