{"id":290,"date":"2019-02-15T21:17:19","date_gmt":"2019-02-15T21:17:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.freestyleacademy.rocks\/~HannahH\/?page_id=290"},"modified":"2019-12-10T04:06:05","modified_gmt":"2019-12-10T04:06:05","slug":"personal-poetry","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~HannahH\/personal-poetry\/","title":{"rendered":"Personal Poetry"},"content":{"rendered":"

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Hope You Enjoy:)<\/h2>\n
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Last night, I traveled out of my body<\/h5>\n
And with my hand on my chest<\/h5>\n
Felt my heart beat<\/h5>\n
And got pulled back down to Earth.<\/h5>\n
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There is a lack of character in the normality she forces on the world<\/h5>\n
Yet she is an oddity<\/h5>\n
Her smile longs for approval<\/h5>\n
But her eyes plead for acceptance<\/h5>\n
Her hair blends with a crowd<\/h5>\n
She is a drop of water in the ocean<\/h5>\n
She swears contentment to the world<\/h5>\n
But whispers something else<\/h5>\n
In the ears of those who truly listen, she lets out a faint request<\/h5>\n
She feels like a misfit but looks like a beauty<\/h5>\n
She conforms, but she is no phony<\/h5>\n
She screams a secret<\/h5>\n
A shame no one knows<\/h5>\n
A shame of who she really is and how she really feels<\/h5>\n
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A drop of rain is the first sign of an entire storm,<\/h5>\n
as is a tear.<\/h5>\n
\"\"<\/h5>\n
Person-a human being regarded as an individual<\/h5>\n
An individual,<\/h5>\n
we’re human beings sure <\/span><\/h5>\n
but no, <\/span><\/h5>\n
not individual.<\/h5>\n
We walk around like cattle<\/h5>\n
We see the clothes that our peers wear and imitate<\/h5>\n
We see an image in our head of who we want to be, <\/span><\/h5>\n
but that isn’t us…<\/h5>\n
that vision dancing in our heads is someone else<\/h5>\n
someone we admire<\/h5>\n
Someone we aspire to be<\/h5>\n
Someone, <\/span><\/h5>\n
a human being, <\/span><\/h5>\n
but not a person.<\/h5>\n
Wouldn’t it be easier if we were all just figures, <\/span><\/h5>\n
all the same shape, size, color, gender,<\/h5>\n
no prejudice, <\/span><\/h5>\n
no beauty, <\/span><\/h5>\n
just mind and spirit<\/h5>\n
Or is that even less individual?<\/h5>\n
What’s different between a herd of girls wearing the same clothes <\/span><\/h5>\n
smiling at the same boys <\/span><\/h5>\n
than a group of figures all created identical<\/h5>\n
No flaws, no beauty<\/h5>\n
Is there a difference?<\/h5>\n
Perhaps an inevitable conformity, is greater than a purposeful alikeness<\/h5>\n
Maybe,<\/h5>\n
This inevitable conformity,<\/h5>\n
 <\/span>is an agreement for world peace and understanding <\/span><\/h5>\n
\"\"<\/a><\/h5>\n
The world sometimes sucks.<\/h5>\n
The world sometimes sucks. When a big man makes a decision that costs the little man\u2019s life, when being poor seems illegal, when the lottery drew your name, when a man is not a man because of his color, these are the moments in life when all hope and faith and respect can be lost, and these are the times when all that is needed is a distraction.<\/h5>\n
Charles Bukowski once wrote of a time when Glenn Miller poured out of the jukebox. In Bukowski\u2019s poem \u201cGlenn Miller\u201d, while the rest of the world runs off to war, the narrator sits at a malt shop watching America\u2019s youth dance. Young girls are dancing with football lads and college students, the waiters serving exactly what was needed, a distraction. This poem speaks of the rush to war in comparison to the contentedness of his laziness. \u201cThat last bright sunshine, we warmed ourselves in it shutting away everything else while the universe opened its mouth in an attempt to swallow us all.\u201d Bukowski\u2019s poem forced a new found understanding of people upon me as well as a new consideration of different perspectives.<\/h5>\n
I am getting to an age where I gain an understanding of people and politics, an understanding I’m not sure I want. This poem sets up two sides to the story: what is happening, and what you choose to know, believe in, or focus on. This power, this ability to live in the moment, is an idea totally unreachable to me, and in this time, this ability was a necessity. There was the inevitable day to come, but there was also the inevitable song to play next. Which future do you focus on? Two months or two minutes? The road to danger is an oblivious one. Giving your mind, body, and soul one night of total carelessness, one night with no tomorrow, gave America\u2019s youth a chance to remember their innocence and gave them a casual yet spectacular, a regular but in no way regular,  night to remember as they declare their representation for our country.<\/h5>\n
\u201cAs the world rushed to war, as Hitler speechified, the girls whirled gracefully.\u201d Another topic hiding behind the words of this poem is the comparison of perspective, big picture to little picture. At this time the world as a whole is panicking, frantic, rushing to war, yet the girls are smiling, taunting the gentlemen, dancing the night away at a small malt shop across the street. Across the waters, Hitler takes over innocent minds minute by minute, while on our side of the shores our innocents make their own, minor, history. On days when large things occur on the news and our world as a whole is weeping, I may, as my own person, make a memory worth a lifetime, a memory meaningful only to me. The world will not know, but my world will.<\/h5>\n
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My mind is home to a monster.<\/h5>\n
Caged and weighed down, hidden under a lifetime of social norms and expectations.<\/h5>\n
Sometimes it squirms loose, just enough to be heard in my tone of voice or seen in the light of my eyes.<\/h5>\n
It has never gotten out;<\/h5>\n
I am not sure what would happen if it did.<\/h5>\n
It whispers to me, when everything is quiet enough for me to hear it.<\/h5>\n
I listen, but I never trust it,<\/h5>\n
Instead… I tame it and feed it distractions and affirmations.<\/h5>\n
Trying my hardest, to keep it contained;<\/h5>\n
trying my hardest,<\/h5>\n
to not become the monster.<\/h5>\n
<\/h5>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

  Hope You Enjoy:)   Last night, I traveled out of my body And with my hand on my chest Felt my heart beat And […]<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"template-full.php","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-290","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~HannahH\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/290","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~HannahH\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~HannahH\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~HannahH\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~HannahH\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=290"}],"version-history":[{"count":30,"href":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~HannahH\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/290\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":883,"href":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~HannahH\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/290\/revisions\/883"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/freestyleacademy.rocks\/~HannahH\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=290"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}