my grandfather told me
that i was full of ennui

he said that he could see it in my poems.
he could see it spreading
like moss
from the space between the sentences and the
ends of them

he said that it slid from my ears
like life
from another man,
hung up on some perpendicular problem

he said it was present in my eyes.
like the sky,
what once was blue
is now  gray

he felt it in my sleeve,
reaching out to meet his hand
and grip it,
without enthusiasm

he told me that it was familiar.
that its face had worn him,
this ennui

Am I it,
or is it I?

"You are full of Ennui,"
my grandfather said to me

"no"
i told him
"everyone else is."

He laughed,
without enthusiasm.

Ennui.
June 3, 2012 at 1:48am
Worthless,
Me,
My life.

Nothing but garbage,
Nothing but wreckage,
Nothing but worthless rage,
On a world where atrocities are common,

I’m nothing in life,
No good to my kids,
No good to my someday to be wife,
Nothing but a waste,

A waste of space,
A waste of face,
Just wreckage in this world,
Doing no good for anyone.

I’ve never done right,
Never done good,
My life is darkest night,
Just a blight,
A scar upon wood,

I can’t do anyting well
I can’t do anything right,
I can do no good.
My life is a broken shell,
Any goodness,  swallowed by the night.

No good for me,
No good for anyone,
I might as well give in to the ennui,
Might as well caress my knife,
Or swallow a bullet from my gun.

I can’t do anything well,
I can’t do anything right,
My life is a broken shell,
Any Joy,
Swallowed by blight.

Because I love the night,
Night is when the stars,
The stars shine bright,
And share their godly light,
Yet my life,
Still seems swallowed by blight.


Worthless I am,
And shall always be,
Life is a sham,
And I’m drowning,
In Ennui.

I see pain and discomfort shunned
From all beings breathing far from the sun
Yet, I’ve questioned if it was all right
Even though the sages have aged
The wise still rains truth
From storms of dust and pebbles
From lives full of peace and suffering
Having tasted it all to know that
   If you drink the honey first
   All else pales in comparison
   And the bitter ever more unbearable
   And if you bear the bitter before the sweet
   All the more pleasant the world will be

   You’ll never miss the near, but ever the far faraway
   Long for the berries and peaches that only visited
   Once a year
   Long for the meals that saved you from constant hunger
   Though only if you have starved and felt the ennui of
   Easy fulfillment till gluttony

And then, I have met
A different kind of suffering, like a spectre
Looming above the land of the cloudless
Looming above us, the youth of peace
Where all labor towards momentary fulfillment
Way too brief compared to the prospect
Of an eternity as ash and dust
Life of unbearable levity
In a world that has lost its true gravity
In a world where nothing lasts more than a
Few wrathful moments

Even with faith for the faithful
Who wants to live half of their life
Dancing with death
Only to live each day afterwards
As another life gained

At the same time
Who wants to live all their time
Chasing a dream ever in the distant
Only to one day wake up from the mirage
Pondering the purpose of the distance
Walked

Alas,
I can only wish that
When you close your eyes
You may not despair in the brief
Darkness
But rejoice in the ensuing wonder of
An eternal dream
So brilliant near the
Sun

There, things last
Not pain, in a land
Impossible to lose
But, unfathomable peace
Without ennui.

The demons are bleeding from the walls
  Pouring thick like screeching molasses
   Grabbing me by my eye sockets
    With twelve inch ripping talons
     Pulling and tearing my flesh taut
      Like some morose antagonism of obesity
       Dragging me thru the hardwood floorboards
        Thru a river flowing with moaning, groaning souls
         Cast into a stygian darkness that blinds the eyes


          The magnitude of grotesque revulsion
         That unveils itself before me
        In monstrous catastrophe
       Ignites my dejected soul
      To wisps of smoke and smoldering ashes
     Set to a contour of unremitting denunciation
    Scorching pits of fire, brimstone, and sulfur
   The suffocated withering of my intentions


  The agony of ennui
And the simplicity of sin

On life,
On death,
On me,
Ennui.

To move from dream to dream,
To think and recollect,
To drift within the stream,
Of life and then to jest.

How everything is clear,
How everything is grand,
How the world is sincere,
That never still it stands.

To curse the state of time,
And watch it slip away,
Perceived by the mind,
Ennui, just the same.

On we to our dreams,
Of platinum-plated wants,
Wether small or larger things,
Ennui, to the lot.

My days are engulfed by ennui
that I cannot eradicate.
As though I were buried alive
and the undertakings of my
past,
my vices
my sins
my failures
enervate me.
Smother me. Weigh down on
me
like so much dirt.

"I just spasmed
As my life force left me.
At a rate of 2.3 pictometers per femtosecond."

"I hide behind the tears
Of a pretentious *****
Who laments himself at
Every
Available
Opportunity"

"Your premise assumes
That writing poetry
Would mitigate my boredom."

"Doing things you do not enjoy
Will serve no purpose
Other than remind you of how bored you are."

"I feel my life force
Being ****** out of me
Minute
By
Minute"

"Each minute that I endure
The mind-boggling ennui
Is another brain cell
That commits suicide
In order
To save
Its self."

"I may have to resort to poetry soon."