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Poems On / About IDENTITY  3/5/2015 8:41:23 PM
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Best Poems About / On IDENTITY
 
 
 
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  149.     

What 'Fit' Would I Want

Identity?
I've had one for so long.
All my life,
I have lived to perfect it.
I don't get upset with those with none.
Those who prefer to turn away and run...
If confronted!

Identity?
I know who I am without question.
Acceptance I don't seek.
Not from those
Who believe my identity
Might leave others afraid to speak.
Those familiar with others,
Who shuffle along with stances weak.

I have no problem,
Being me and that might offend.
'Too bad! '
'Get over it! '
Nothing else or more is there...
I care to share with them!
What 'fit' would I want,
If that which I enjoy...
Provides me comfort?
 
Lawrence S. Pertillar

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  150.     

Silent Screams

Soul dressed in decrepit robe
Of flesh, all tattered, hanging, loose;
Spirits torn, identities denied,
Disowned progeny,
Living on the margins of community;
‘Being’ split into two parts moves
To the beats of drums, tears are shed within,
Silent screams submerged by jingles of anklets
Grotesqueness dances and claps in candy-colours;
Painted smiles, crude laughter lips sing course songs
On broken strings of life,
Begging for ipse, coins burn palms,
Soul scratched by mockery-
Soul that is above any identity,
Equally comes from divinity,
Left suffering silently
In the wilderness of hermophrodity,
searching violently in the jungle of identity.
 
Yasmeen Khan

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  151.     

Primordial Identity

Primordial Identity

* Soubhagyabanta Maharana

Everyone around me
Is a strange passer-by here
To know the reality of my identity
Which has duped my innocence
With an irresistible spirit
Of surging profanity.

Years have gone by
Bidding adieu to transitory moments
And momentary events
On the sands of fleeing times
Ignoring my subtle requests
To crave for a valid individuality.

In the vicissitudes of fortune
I have come across people
Talking big before me
Belittling their image before me
Praising high of me in pretense
Speaking ill of others deliberately
To synchronize their feelings.

I know not
Who is more primitive
In attitude and etiquette
Than my innocuous self?
Everybody thinks himself
To be an icon here
Amid pretence and hypocrisy
To hide the primordial identity
That pains me very much
Looking deepening darkness around me.

*********
 
Soubhagyabanta Maharana

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  152.     

Exeter Hotel

In the mid of shoe stores and dimly lid bars
It's the whiskey cocktail as attractive as a jar
Moth velvet as potted palm gifts
Who would not be stunned if the front desk insists

Check in (over the years) , to commit suicide on squire
In Exeter Hotel, no signature or proof of identity required

Climb the four flight stair
Lock the door and fall into a softer chair
That the bed's made, that the white robe's fade
Just a man, who stays on his own

Check in (over the years) , to commit suicide on squire
In Exeter Hotel no signature or proof of identity required

Smothered, the reports straight and set
Thistle as even as omelet
The pallet scoop to favor
Just a blanket shaving at end

Check in (over the years) , to commit suicide on squire
In Exeter Hotel no signature or proof of identity requires
 
Pierre Rausch

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