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6d · 21
Oh bullocks,
The words of the mass!
Oh bullocks,
The words of god!
Oh! be ******
The majority
And the pitiful,
Oh! be ******
Citizens, who
Think of naught
But their measly selves,
And even worse,
Those wealthy fools,
Who think naught at all!
Be ******,
These crazed fools!
Be ******! Even as unions tools;
Freedom this, freedom that,
They all raise their fists,
And turn deaf at
The clanking of their chains,
Oh bullocks to marriage,
To business,
And to this whole pull
Between morals and justice
and all that other crap,
Oh be ****** education,
Be ****** all!
It’s tainted everything,
Even the babes in the wombs,
***** love,
***** romance,
It’s all just scandals now
To bullocks everything!
The world has ****** itself;
Since god never existed
In any of our hearts;
Even if it did
What use is it now?
We’ve ****** everything
And are left with nothing,
But empty shells
We call our self.
Politics ©️2021 Jana Pelzom
That was a lot of anger phew
6d · 14
When I felt solemn
I usually jotted down some poems,
Sometimes I was lucky enough
To come up with a bright one,
But I made a different choice today,
Sometimes you just feel
That the waves are on a different scale,
And want nothing more
Than to conquer it,
So I read the first page,
It asked me why poetry was dying,
If not already dead;
My reply was :
might be because our souls are;
And then I scrolled past,
It said,
And repeated quite a dozen times;
With a note at the end
that said it made no sense;
Everyone was touched,
By what I couldn’t tell
And people applaud;
This secret society,
Butchering poor old poetry
And selling it
In poor taste,
But just past, another one read :
Bad art is still art isn’t it?
And I couldn’t argue that
What had been written
Was far more beautiful,
With a lot more soul,
I could feel the emotions,
Even if the craftsmanship
Wasn’t on par with his lordship
(Of Alfred Lord Tennyson’s)
What I was to understand from abstract
Or from the pop,
Is they do it for the recognition;
Not for the soul;
It’s for mere validation;
And just maybe for fun;
Never for the art itself,
And by all means enjoy it
If you must or can,
But don’t, I beg,
Butcher innocent animals
And start calling ham
A poem worthy of Wordsworth,
And if I must be blunt
That even of man.
Poetry©️ 2021 Jana Pelzom
Reading other people’s poems on the front page of hello poetry. #standpoint on art
Can we force genius?
A certain person said
Genius is being able to
Bring forth the child at will,
But what of the child who
All think was mature,
What of those who never lived?
Don’t call me wise,
I’d like to be the artist;
The free child;
Who observes and expresses
And is little understood,
But all I’ve become
Is a fool, an adult,
Who’s upset sitting
At panels being judged
And being able to do nothing
But smile, with clenching fists.
(Tentative)As children we want to be grown and as adults we don’t really know ©️2021 Jana Pelzom
Jana Pelzom Jan 11
It’s a consolation;
We are alone in this world,
But not alone
In our loneliness.
The strangers that pass by ©️ 2021 Jana Pelzom
Dec 2020 · 23
Jana Pelzom Dec 2020
I crave words
But don’t trust them,
These black lines
I snort;
Hunger of some sort;
Why do I come back,
Time and time again,
Hoping to elate myself,
With the false taste
Of affection?
When after all
it still ends in desperation.
Affirmation ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
Dec 2020 · 21
“It’s just a joke”
Jana Pelzom Dec 2020
Let’s try to be funny
You raggedy lil dog
We ain’t got money
But laughs we can hog
Define us Greed will
Like the world it has seen ill
We’ll talk of cures
While our vaccines are replaced
by haughty manicures,
We’ll laugh at everything
Because why the heck not?
Reasons are useless,
Explanations futile—
And be it god may bless
The unfortunate and the rest,
But how we’ve been blessed
A mystery in itself,
To carry on now is our only test,
But let’s be funny instead,
We’ll burn the village,
We’ll make a little girl cry in her bed
If not right out dead,
We’ll go make the college kid regret
Why they’re even holding on
To this world full of hate,
This is funny!
How we scream and torment,
We need the concert tickets,
That mansion with white pickets,
We need our parents love
Or any sort of affectation
But don’t know how to reciprocate,
We don’t face the problems
We instead just beg!
We can be funny too,
You and I,
No longer filled with rage;
A boisterous laughter sage!
They’ll blame us,
Shame us,
But forget that’s what they asked,
They’ll laugh
And I think I shall sigh
And now laugh along
With the world that’s greed high.
“It’s just a joke” ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
So many people say mean and unwarranted things and use the line “it’s just a joke” to brush off everything and that isn’t very nice.
Dec 2020 · 34
Jana Pelzom Dec 2020
There’re so many flavours
Spicy, savouries and sours,
Sweet and creamy,
Or buttery with plenty of salt!
There’s bitterness,
Oh! and that taste you get with zest,
Some fresh, some dry,
And some just pure delights!
I may be no cook,
And some flavours do elude,
But it’s my own recipe
So there’s no need to feud,
You can mix and match
And toil at the stove
To make what comes out
Worthy for your soul
To each their own,
A kitchen; nay— a wondrous dream town!
Go around and about
And select your own flavours
To experiment and try out!
Flavours ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
Dec 2020 · 17
It may be seasonal
Jana Pelzom Dec 2020
It’s terrible—
I have forsaken myself,
I start to think,
Then I try to write
But right as I start
I end up at that brink;
An utterly corrupt despair;
It slowly builds
And I fear it will explode,
But at the last minute
It just goes,
Where?— My brain warns,
As I let go of bated breath;
At least my blood is hot
Though the air that leaves is not,
I lift my head;
A struggle that’s left unsaid;
The bones and flesh that ache,
With each heavy contemplation yet;
And I try mighty hard not to fret,
But the rising and falling of our bodies at rest
Is now something I faintly regret,
The sunlight it hits
In the room that I sit
And any task daunting be,
Reason has left with passion trailing along
And life is barely just hanging on.
It may be seasonal ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
Dec 2020 · 42
Jana Pelzom Dec 2020
Life tells of many virtues
Being humble is one of the few,
But life’s yet to teach me
how Humble works in lieu.
I do not know
How and when to have
Consciousness of what I ought to be,
Being true is what they ask of me
But honestly,
that is often a lie.
A terribly costly fee,
It is to be free;
And as life serves its many tumbles,
There’s where anger
Rolls in with giant rumbles,
That’s where, as I stumble
I learn not to grumble;
And maybe that is where
Humble lay,
Amongst all that jumble.
It confuses me,
Telling someone else
They’ve done splendid
While most days I stand waiting,
While all you wanted
Was a praise or few,
Is that being humble?
I do not understand,
Though many have told me
I should join the Humble band,
And say how little I brag,
But little does it register
There’s nothing to yap on about,
So is it being humble
Or is it me trying not to fumble
With how insecure I am.
Humble ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
I was trying to figure out the difference between being humble and being insecure and not knowing if you have anything to even be proud of. I understand what it is, it’s just the line gets so vague. What do you all think?
Dec 2020 · 76
Jana Pelzom Dec 2020
Gently they swing
These golden threads
As they sing
Gentle hymns and veil me
From the worlds cold scrutiny
Willows ©️ 2020 Jana Pelzom
Willow trees are calming in autumn
Dec 2020 · 76
Jana Pelzom Dec 2020
How many words are too many?
Most seem to stop at fifty,
And amongst that fifty
Is there any
That even lights a spark?
How many words
Till you consider me worthy
I feel from the many
Two should be plenty
and one shall be able
To stand alone
With a smile.
Worthy ©️ 2020 Jana Pelzom
What are the two words you ask? Well for me it’s my name silly! Your worthiness depends on you or so I feel like it should.
Dec 2020 · 73
They call me Blunt
Jana Pelzom Dec 2020
The words that terrify you
But not me;
What if it is because, I don’t check mine
But you carefully handpick
And give them to me?
Maybe you’re afraid of being hurt
And so hide and not say,
But what of me?
Whose words are like a shield;
An enormous porcupine armour;
No wonder
people, they seem to flee,
As they call me blunt,
Though I am not hurt,
Everyone around me
seems to be.
They call me blunt ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
Blunt edges aren’t supposed to cut you but I suppose it does hurt to be hit by one.
Dec 2020 · 57
I don’t feel too good
Jana Pelzom Dec 2020
‘I don’t feel too good’
Saying that out,
Does it make me any better?
I’m not saying it so that it would

But I don’t feel too good
And I don’t know what else to do;
I can not afford to be blue!—
Maybe there just isn’t enough food
That’s going in my stomach,
Or hopefully it’s just the flu.

I don’t feel too good
And I’m not empty of the belly
And I don’t have any fever,
But lord, what else is this hollow,
While sitting idly
What is this rapid unwanted temper?

Oh I don’t feel too good
And when I say it out
All I get back is a random “mood”
No I don’t feel good,
And I have not understood
That I may not recover
Anytime soon,
Or maybe I shan’t ever.
I don’t feel too good ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
Dec 2020 · 71
Writers Block
Jana Pelzom Dec 2020
I do not exist,
Not in the way
The world insists;
The whole bar chatters
Some probably can’t even register
The words that spill,
Like the drinks and the chips;
They don’t really matter,
And yet I speak,
Not knowing anything
But to fill,
A murky darkness
Of whiskey and thrumming beats.
I do not exist,
As the world fades;
It had no colour
As it was dead,
I realise water
doesn’t look like anything
While in standstill;
When it has nothing other
but itself to fill;
Water is nothing
It doesn’t exist,
Just the way
I don’t seem to exist
For I have ceased to persist.
Writers Block ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
Dec 2020 · 70
Jana Pelzom Dec 2020
Why are we afraid,
More so, to show
That we do not know?
How does it aid;
To stand stupidly tall
And be a know-it-all?
To be Honest
Is no longer a virtue,
I wonder who hurt you?
I’m too sensitive
Or maybe no one is as inquisitive.
I don’t like sounding like a ***** but when I write sometimes and read it again (which I guess we shouldn’t do) I feel like a royal pain in the ****. Any pointers?
Unbeknownst ©️ 2020  Jana Pelzom
Nov 2020 · 51
Jana Pelzom Nov 2020
There I stood
What a crazy mood!
I’m pretty
   You’re not
I deserve this
    You do not
Why can’t you listen to me
    They’re not your bot
This is unfair
    You got to accept life and its fare
What do you mean I need a doctor
I am just practicing self love!
And that’s when you realise
You’re not all
What the jazz is about
You’re a little speck
And that’s ok
You don’t need
Though it be to your dismay
To be put on display
Or stand high on deck
Of the sinking wreck.
I was reading up on personality disorders and thought about talking to a narcissistic character (?)
Narcissists ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
Nov 2020 · 76
Jana Pelzom Nov 2020
I do not beg for forgiveness
I know you are better than that,
I work instead
To help or try to understand,
And wish that my little outbursts
Don’t cause much damage
Please treat me then, like a child,
For I have yet to learn
To not be as wild;
I mean not to scare,
Can I hope
Would I dare?
Apology ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
There are so many shades of everything, it’s a wonder.
Oct 2020 · 92
My Mom
Jana Pelzom Oct 2020
My mother, she
Knows more than me,
Though she, like anybody,
Has her own insecurities;
That she doesn’t have a degree;
But she’s been teaching me
Twenty twos years and 5 months,
My sister 5 more years;
She’s been teaching longer than  
most of my buddies;
It’s even worse
For she can’t just fail;
Give F’s and maybe a retrial
My mother,
I tell you she,
Deserves an honorary college degree
For though she says I now know more than her
She was the one helping me through
my cries and utter misery.
It is unfair how the world at large
Took away your student at heart
But I need to apologize
For that in turn
Helped me realise how to learn.
My Mom © 2020 Jana Pelzom
Dedicated to my mother for all she has been through for me. Not everyone gets as lucky but I hope some end up being the lucky stroke for other children instead.
Oct 2020 · 127
Know more than Heaven
Jana Pelzom Oct 2020
Know more than Heaven,
Shut Hell with your mouth,
Take this world
And let it lament,
love so much
it hurts,
So I hate instead
And it gets worse,
They tell me I look the type
So I don’t smoke cigarettes;
I’ve resolved to
Being in just passing,
This life maybe
Or may not be;
there’s no middle ground,
We’re all just tumbling around,
So shut Hell up
And hope you know more than Heaven
And as you leave this world,
Leave a trailing presence;
A goodbye filled with laughter,
An everlasting song.
Know more than Heaven ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
Oct 2020 · 88
Sharps and Flats
Jana Pelzom Oct 2020
The music of life it flows,
In every heavy breath,
And every low blow,
It sings in high falsettos
I cry,
I rage,
I hold myself and try to sallow
That I have no control
Over how the concert unfolds;
The screams,
And beats
of feet on the ground,
And everyone marches
Or simply falls down;
Sorrows aren’t arrows,
We’re not bows,
Yet taut we are
And deal out our blows;
If I let go
It hurts another,
But year in and year out
I end up pulling the string,
And then I hear someone sing
“What an up strung girl”
The chorus of the cacophony,
Then the ****** of the dischord,
An arrow singes through the atmosphere.
I do not know what to do with emotions. I end up being quite high strung and do things on impulse but I do not know any other way to deal with them except to feel it as it is but everyone tells me to mellow out. I do not seem to know where to start. And sometimes I feel it is wrong to feel anything at all and other times feeling is all that is fun about this world.
Sharps and Flats ©️ 2020 Jana Pelzom
Oct 2020 · 209
Jana Pelzom Oct 2020
what cheap words
I think as I write
There's no flowers blooming here
I have no choice but to pretend
the garland on my crown
Is fresh with buzzing bees
but come, you and I both know
this is what comes with modernity;
nature is what once magic used to be
Changes ©️ 2020 Jana Pelzom
Oct 2020 · 83
Dor (n.)
Jana Pelzom Oct 2020
Sadness filled me with every line
Blinded, choked and not in time
Dor (n.) ©️ 2020 Jana Pelzom
“Dor (Romanian) a deep and nostalgic feeling of sadness, agony and emptiness one experiences upon intensely missing, longing, and yearning for something or someone.”
I once found this word and thought it was interesting
Sep 2020 · 98
Class of 2020
Jana Pelzom Sep 2020
Today was my graduation
There’s one every school year
The money spent
On knowledge
Where they tell me
Money can’t buy wisdom  
Then  tell us all
No graduation this fall
We’ve all been given digital passes
To go work in
Maybe a mall
They tell me I’m too caught up
My heads way up in the clouds
And then they give me
a virtual Hat toss
Hurrah to our 2020 graduates
Bless us all.
Class of 2020 ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
Sep 2020 · 250
Jana Pelzom Sep 2020
Even a deviant
Can be
Conjuring up
Words to get
Some love and relevance
Irrelevant ©️ 2020 Jana Pelzom
Jana Pelzom Aug 2020
Think, think, think, thought
Think that
Think not
Only freedom
What a plot!
We’re shackled,
Not an enlightened lot,
Think that
Think not
Inked the thought
Or simply forgot
What we say
Is not the truth,
What we see
Cannot bear fruit
Think that
Think not
We’re bizarre creatures
That slowly rot.
What is the ultimate freedom? © 2020 Jana Pelzom
Aug 2020 · 82
Jana Pelzom Aug 2020
Life is a game
We all know
But what’s the mission?

It’s all pre-planned
This is a stimulation
The endings are countless
Just choose what you want I guess

Freak accidents too,
Do we get a say?
There is no way I can survive
And dreaming’s my only escape.
Stimulations © 2020 Jana Pelzom
Aug 2020 · 95
Death threats
Jana Pelzom Aug 2020
Sometimes I wonder
What venoms we possess
‘Such snakes!’ people yell
To who I can’t tell,
Don’t insult the snake
That uses poison to protect itself;
That tries to avoid harming
Lest it harm itself,
We’re worse than snakes,
Using words to harm—
To poison others
While hiding in shells!
What delusions I try to understand,
Gives a bitter person
A logical reason
To go and bite,
Even commit treason?!
It wasn’t the apple,
Humanity I say, it fell.
Death threats © 2020 Jana Pelzom
Why do people write death threats and bully others? I never understand.
Aug 2020 · 91
Shall I?
Jana Pelzom Aug 2020
I wish to speak;
I wish to be heard;
Maybe it’s time to stop being meek.
I don’t want to offend,
Those who lend
Ears, to give me a chance.
Odd it may be
I am against racism too
But hear me
I can’t see how
We can write
All these awful things
Like: We are right.
Don’t bristle just yet!
I know there’s more to sacrifice;
Though we all know
It will never suffice;
The whole problem with the world
Is we all think we are right.
It’s no longer about hurting less,
But instead proving,
One to be better than the rest.
Rest assured my friends,
This world is absurd,
There isn’t a shred of light!
You’ll read and maybe argue,
‘Well what of god?’
But what use is a knife,
If it is not in my hands?
It’s not wrong as there is no right;
It’s but being civil,
Though we most prefer being, but evil.
And so I write;
Sometimes two pages a day;
Though is it already tomorrow,
I am alas! to never know.
Shall I now then, laugh?
Because crying seems to do no good
Shall I say something?
But it’s not really going to be understood
Or Shall I just live?
Because it’s all gone too soon.
Shall I © 2020 Jana Pelzom
Aug 2020 · 50
Jana Pelzom Aug 2020
It’s getting a bit hot out here,
It‘s been my lingering fear;
Childhood blessed with mamas humming,
Now replaced by some mechanic droning,
Blowing cool air
This little white machine,
What powers it holds
Keeps going past midnight until I come around,
Then continues on
As summers background sound.
AC ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
Aug 2020 · 97
Jana Pelzom Aug 2020
Let’s talk about empty,
How we all seem to be;
Looking for meanings,
Looking for answers,
Looking to be free.
There’s nothing to fill us,
And we don’t understand why,
We just keep living,
While wanting to die.
So afraid we are of everything grand;
No matter where we go
The Empty echo comes in hand;
Where does it go
Our love and our smiles?
Even our anger
Where does it go,
to die?
There is nothing left
Or it’s rather
That we can’t phantom
The greatness of our life.
Empty ©️ 2020 Jana Pelzom
Jana Pelzom Jul 2020
Ask thee this
“Am I an idiot?”
That sounds harsh
But believe me
It’s not to talk down to thee
But to actually better thyself.
We eat good food in hopes
That we in turn don’t get sick
But by chance if thou were, would thee take
All the medicine out there in the world?
It would bode well instead
To ask what wrong thee need to fix.
So let me ask again
Is thee an Idiot?
And if thou answer is no
Plain and simple—
Oh thee mustn’t give up hope!
Even though thy disease
Has reached too far a state
To have any cure.
The cure ©️ Jana Pelzom
Experimenting with Shakespearean English
Jul 2020 · 60
The disease
Jana Pelzom Jul 2020
It’s a pandemic
Gosh **** it—
Everyone around me
has caught the disease;
It’s quite contagious,
And no mask
Or hand washing
Can get rid of it,
It is a virus transmitted
It is a sickening thing that
You don’t realise
You allow into your life.
It’s a pandemic
Gosh **** it—
And I too am infected
With the ****** virus
The disease ©️ 2020 Jana Pelzom
Jul 2020 · 139
Jana Pelzom Jul 2020
“Look here little missy
You listen to me!”
Oh I am trying
My hands can’t stay still
But I can hear clearly,
Though my eyes can’t seem to focus lately;
How conscious must my subconscious be
To keep my legs from dancing like a busy bee?
It’s not a little sugary rush,
No not the crash or jitters;
My hands they travel
Faster than what
my brain regularly seems to offer,
So please don’t take my rash actions
And then turn it into a
Melodramatic rerun.
I am trying
Wait what was I saying?
Oh there’s also another poem
That needs to be done.
ADHD ©️ 2020 Jana Pelzom
Jul 2020 · 100
Jana Pelzom Jul 2020
I hear butterflies they eat flesh
And leaves nothing but bones,
Some **** all life
And innocently fly by.
I have chased butterflies;
Who wouldn’t,
When it seems that they
are there to just be so pretty?
Ah— I ponder
I must treat them gently,
And fumbled as they landed on me;
Such gentle creatures they must be,
Was what eluded me,
Foolishly I heard myself
Say with butterflies in my gut
This is what romance must be.
What lies I feed
And the butterflies feed off me,
There they go,
Such pretty little things,
They have left now nothing but bones
And they fly free.
Butterflies ©️ 2020 Jana Pelzom
Jul 2020 · 103
Jana Pelzom Jul 2020
The Internet is a scary place,
There are drug deals;
Illegal *** tapes;
Some crazy cults that send you (if you fall)
hair twine and bloodied Voodoo dolls;
Dead bodies out for auctions
(Who knows how they died);
Do not forget
The slavery rings that still exist,
And a bidder that sits on their cell
now called a room,
But these are mostly unknown.
People complain of **** sites
Though don’t educate otherwise,
They instead protest *******
and some, showcasing of certain arts;
Isn’t it terrifying?
There’s more degradation on YouTube
Compared to the Red,
That goes by unchecked;
There’s little children worried
why they’re not as skinny
Or worse yet why there are not enough likes.
I think I’m lucky,
I am not as affected,
Yet here I had sat,
Thinking what would these blurred faces like;
Is it a good story;
Or a catchy rhyme;
How can I make them smile?
No! Stop and think!
Now I Know the internet is scary,
I forget as I’m looking away
The noose is hung around my neck;
I’m caught like a fish by the Net
Or a fly stuck in this Mysterious Web.
WWW (world wide web). “www” in Japanese texting culture is how we showcase that we are laughing, an English equivalent of hahaha or the Thai 555 or the Spanish jajaja
www ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
Jana Pelzom Jul 2020
I want tattoos
It’s the family in black lines
A pause; I can hear her thinking,
She is shocked I think about them at all,
I laugh and ask where is the best place
She is upset and tells me :
Please don't get something permanent.
“This body is temporary,” I reply
Why scar a perfectly good body,
A body that is perfect, no decay?
Why would I hurt myself and her in this way
She tells me don’t get carried away;
It is not in our history to mark ourselves,
(Even though I may)
You’ll not get a job, and
people will look at you funny
Are you ok with that?
“It’ll mostly be hidden by my clothes
Also, that's discrimination,” I say,
Yes it exists,
so why make your life harder than today?
She doesn’t quite understand.
There is no use,
No NEED to be inked.
I don’t need to mark myself for a clan
Or a group or for any other thing
So why, she wonders
must I get an expensive work done to my body,
where it’ll hurt, clearly.
I don't want my daughter to hurt.
I say, “I can handle the pain”
She says she’ll never understand,
And me too I can’t begin to comprehend
What a mother goes through
when all she does is care.
I thank her though and say, it is a fight
and a journey that maybe I’ll regret one morning
But I want to be reminded
to be grateful of my family everyday
She shakes her head
and tells me I can show it in other ways
But we conclude the story
with a compromise tonight,
I’ll get lesser lines than yesterday’s design,
She’ll stay by my side as I make my mistakes,
And for that I’ll keep loving her more each day.
Tattoos (conversations with my mum) ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
Jun 2020 · 193
Jana Pelzom Jun 2020
It’s time to make rhythm;
To write symphonies,
Or just some melodies;
Bring to life the Phantom
That usually just lives in memories!
Come join me
As I try to string silence
with my words;
Some magic wouldn’t hurt;
Come let’s join this tap dance,
This frenzy beat
Of many one two threes,
Come join
As I break this
As I please,
If you can’t hear the rhythm
Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.
What sort of rhythm do you usually read with?

Rhythm ©️ 2020 Jana Pelzom
Jun 2020 · 152
Jana Pelzom Jun 2020
Can you hear the pitter-patter;
And see the fluffy clouds
As it makes a pretty splatter;
And hear those wondrous sounds?

Everything sounds a little sticky;
The car wheels as they touch the ground;
But it doesn’t make me feel icky,
Now isn’t that profound?

After each little shower,
Thus the world’s scent;
Is like the gentle comfort of my mother
After a long day spent.

I sit looking out the window,
To where the flowers turned their bejeweled heads,
I no longer crinkle my brow
With book in hand.

Then in the room where I lay;
“Aren’t we both now seekers
Of magical twinkling brooks?”
The rain, it whispers.
Rain © 2020 Jana Pelzom
Jun 2020 · 582
Jana Pelzom Jun 2020
Just because I write
Doesn’t mean they will read;
Some words they don’t resonate,
Some others they echo,
Some are words said
Maybe to fill the silence,
But I say mine
I don’t want to fear.
Reasons ©️ 2020 Jana Pelzom
Jun 2020 · 149
What's Life?
Jana Pelzom Jun 2020
What’s life?
It's biting my tongue
Instead of my food.
What’s life?
It’s trying to find the answer
But ending up with more questions.
What’s life?
It’s the suffering all around
But being beautiful still.
What’s life?
It’s sitting here
Thinking, less avoiding.
What’s life?
I’m living but I don’t know;
So I laugh when I think of death,
Because why do I even phantom,
To try to know it all
When I am not even dead?
What's Life? © 2020 Jana Pelzom
Jun 2020 · 122
The Confession
Jana Pelzom Jun 2020
Can anyone be more dutiful;
If I were to say,
‘The moon is beautiful’
You’d agree without a seconds delay,
For yours is a pure soul
And mine, too arrogant.

People prefer angels,
Or sing praise to gods;
Some may even worship the devils,
Or dream of heavenly bods.
But I rather much prefer  
Thy soft presence in my own.

Nothing is hard,
For, now that I have met you,
The world, I can part;
Though I never look at the moon
And I know I am no sage;
There is courage;

I repeat with candour
‘The moon is beautiful’
And thine soul, it shines through,
As you dutifully say:
There is no moon,
Anywhere on display.
Natsume Soseki ( 1867-1916) is known to have translated "I Love you" to a less direct and culturally appropriate way by saying instead, "the moon is beautiful, isn't it?"
The Confession © 2020 Jana Pelzom
Jun 2020 · 196
Second Guessing
Jana Pelzom Jun 2020
All the thoughts that go through;
I know less,
I know more,
I may actually know nothing at all.
The gnawing voice,
That I know is my own,
Keeps repeating
That I am wrong.
How I live,
How I act,
How I chose to be,
How every little thing,
Seems to be hurting
people who are not me.
Maybe they see
Things much differently,
Maybe it is me who
can’t really feel.
Do they really see
What I am trying to express?
Or has it been repressed?
No words enough,
No action good,
Always seemingly misunderstood.
Inhale and exhale
Then it repeats.
Second guessing ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
Jun 2020 · 133
Great People
Jana Pelzom Jun 2020
I sat pondering :
Have I any talents?
It really is of no use
Wallowing the lack in me.
Though it is the lack thereof that frightens us;
The greatest doctor
Has but second best,
Or just another general fella treat their wound,
But see, you and I can use their talents
Without even batting an eye.
So, lonely it must be for the greatest showman,
For though he gives his all in all,
Can’t enjoy the magic,
And maybe thus, begins to fall.
Such tragedies they face,
No comedies to help brace,
So I guess I should laugh,
And hopefully embrace,
These heroes instead
Of being in jealous outrage.
Great people ©️2020 Jana Pelzom
Jun 2020 · 171
Dr. Johnson’s Club
Jana Pelzom Jun 2020
There is a dilemma,
A little itch on the soul;
To say like Velma,
Jinkies! to my woes.

It has come to my notice
I am not a great mind,
There is no E=MC^2;
Not even close to a genius Einstein.

Yet still I wish to sharpen this tool,
Then tried reading
To be less a fool,
Though I wonder still if ‘twas cheating.

And it seems,
that today there’s not to be,
Any comrade in pages bound by solid seams,
Where do I then go to flee?

Honestly what do I expect to find,
In this hardened skull of mine?
Although there is, here at least, more than
A simple “Will you do or die”

It is not friends I seek
Nor thy lies,
It is not the pleasures of the meek
Where thought goes to die;

It is the pure exhilaration
When like imagination is on the grind;
Of Mind emancipation
When words are no longer to just remind;

Where can I find,
The little mess of people
And little T parties of kind?
Are they a fable of my lonely mind?

Cannot speak of the problems
To friends that are mine,
Can’t talk to my father
That’s a landmine,

There are no others,
Except maybe a shrink,
But it's a bother
and I’d rather drink.

There are arguments I made;
Though I can’t even cite,
I thought why not write,
And there I failed yet still.

The teachers around,
Don’t seem to teach,
Or I can’t learn,
What I need to preach.

There is no Dr. Johnson,
To write me a letter to partake,
Not that I am a quality person,
But that would be a reason to escape.
Dr. Johnson’s Club © 2020 Jana Pelzom
Jun 2020 · 215
Jana Pelzom Jun 2020
I once got a zucchini from a professor
He was a farmer too you see
But the zucchini I got,
Was one too many.

I sliced and sliced, Sautéd
and made,
And even gratin.

Though it was one
And then cut in half;
Instead of diminishing, it had rather doubled.
Now troubled
The summer won’t let it last,
I thought what else could I possibly do with a zucchini?

Well food for thought,
And if asked
I could now say,
maybe poetry.
Zucchini © 2020 Jana Pelzom
Jun 2020 · 132
Life is funny
Jana Pelzom Jun 2020
Larry can tell you which notes
Are off on a Chopin piece,
But holds no Piano degree.
Vi can make all the colours pop
But you had no clue,
she knew but only blue.
I’ve always wanted to write poems;
never bothered to learn them.
Twenty two
and still a fool.
The lecturer says:
Put deep thoughts into your writings!
My favourite teacher though says otherwise.
Poetry doesn’t need to have
Complex lexicons,
Or even Shakespeare’s fourteen lines,
It needs people;
Those who want to write,
And want to read,
And maybe as life is funny,
A random passerby
To now know what it is like to feel.
Life is Funny © 2020 Jana Pelzom
Jun 2020 · 283
Jana Pelzom Jun 2020
I am running out of things to say,
There is yet much to feel,
Is it really worth anything ?
Relatable or not relatable;
What does it really mean?
I am running out of things to say,
Because it seems
I have now stopped listening.
Hypocrisy ©️ 2020 Jana Pelzom
Jun 2020 · 205
Jana Pelzom Jun 2020
It’s my birthday
Someone would surely remember?
It’s already next day,
Not even a single well wisher.
It was of no fault
But my own,
I had an expectation
And was just fairly let down.
Disappointment ©️ 2020 Jana Pelzom
May 2020 · 328
Jana Pelzom May 2020
They have no meaning,
Sometimes they rhyme.
They mean the same thing,
Though said in different times.
Sometimes the most awful things
Is not what stings,
It’s the pretty words
That don’t have meanings
that hurt the worst.
Words © 2020 Jana Pelzom
May 2020 · 161
Noir leave it to chance
Jana Pelzom May 2020
There it stood,
To ruin the mood;
All bright and red,
The Russian roulette.
The gunshot had rang,
Then a head started to hang;
The Lady had left;
Death not there to jest,
In this wilting hour.
There chilled to the bone,
The bullet lodged alone;
Jack froze what was left of the breath.
There left the only life,
The gun in its warmth,
But maybe not for I hear a cry
And someone nearby
Has seen what night could not hide.
Felt first hand what was noir;
It was chance played;
Not with Luck at hand,
But Death as the croupier.
Noir leave it to Chance ©️ 2020 Jana Pelzom
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