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Ayaba Babe Dec 2012
Irrelevancy is the only word with a clear definition
Considering nowhere in the dictionary is no a synonym for yes.
Your eyes pry at the binding of my thesaurus.
By the time the letters that form the words that compose such literature become coherent;
I find myself blindly illiterate.
Ungrammatically correct.
How persuasive is the introduction of negativity if the conclusion is positively wet.
hailey  Oct 2014
absurdism
hailey Oct 2014
we become accustomed to the brainwashed idea of what living is,
working more hours than time we spend with those we love,
to come home empty-handed with a sour face.
happiness is thought to be a piece of paper
that gets you places and things.
but is that illusion of materialism true to rid of desolation?
solace lies within
and contentment takes time.
let not our distraction of mortality wave us from seeing the good,
but our dualism let us see the meaningless of every day.
our moments are fleeting,
and will one day be forgotten.
what we smiled for, cried for, and died for,
will one day lose its meaning.
is this pessimism?
or is it truth?
is it objective thinking,
refusing to believe that
we are anything substantial?
one day they will laugh at our irrelevancy.
for people come and go,
and what is today,
will one day be in ruins.
Emma Amme Jun 2014
Someday when the birds learn how to mock our cries of scrutiny
You will gravitate away from the floor that is magnitized with your mistakes
Will you change your polar relevancy and float away in such a manner that you can hear the birds screech about trivial actions that somehow became your reputation.
Joshua Haines  Apr 2016
Alien
Joshua Haines Apr 2016
A radio perches on a mahogany end-table,
singing like a mechanical bird:
bellowing fuzzy jazz, reaching my ear.

Its sides are rounded
like the curves of a classic car.
The antenna is *****
like the arm of an eager child
I've had swinging in-between
phantom-bytes and sonic slush:
my mind: inexcusable and mush.

A deck of cards shrugs it's shoulders
before it climbs on top of the radio;
it's rigid joints straightening and angling.
It tucks the tab back into it's head,
concluding before singing along to
'Somewhere beyond the sea.'

The voice of the deck rattled and squeaked,
like a caged mouse doing a capella.
Shot spit of it's mouth,
like a translucent spaghetti noodle. Bloop.

- I stormed outside, inaudible to all,
unmoved by few, chosen by none -

Today I sat across from a girl --
across the room, not across a table
or across the universe --
Her hair dangled like a carrot's wig,
a carrot's impersonation of a blonde girl.

Of course, her skin was closer to orange than pale --
but I like that stuff. I want it rubbed off on me,
physically, spiritually, mentally, emotionally.
Old-oxidized-green-coins invaded her eyes
and settled in the center of eggshell-white buffer.

Pants were as denim as a brush of shale
or the picture-pose of a flannel-clad beard,
holding a pick-ax and a dusty journal.
A journal of my thoughts, timeless
in their irrelevancy, until discovered
and claimed by someone else,
someone with a beard, a daughter, a smile;
See: Things I will never have.

What could I mean to this person?
How could I be desirable to her?
What am I but an alien,
coasting a galactic sea,
unable to relate to what I see?

- And what was your prize,
in this life? To be loved?
Or to be conquered? -

The deck of cards disappeared.
And I, I without consequence,
rummage through dust blanketed boxes,
hoping to cut my hand on something
I have mistaken as dull.

I have been told that my mother inhabits this box,
somewhere, sometime, somewhere, sometime.
A framed image, a polka dot cloth, a forever
unprecedented by a sunny-day funeral,
where I am the tail of the dying snake
that is my family: last to perish, last to wait:
a corrosive ingestion of unadulterated isolation.

My beige fingers wrap meat and bone,
but also a cheap-golden frame of my mother and us.
Our glasses are all too big, but we were all too poor.
My mother is wearing her wedding ring,
but I don't know why.

So young and vulnerable,
held by a freckled, strawberry blonde.
I don't even know her, any more.

The deck of cards reappears.

- But I've been alone for too long.
Even the winds have stopped whispering.
I have become a witness to my own death. -
GirlOfTheSky  Feb 2014
Absurdism
GirlOfTheSky Feb 2014
Civilizations come and go,
and what is an empire
will one day be ruins.
Our moments are fleeting,
and will one day be forgotten.
What we fought for,
bled for, died for,
will one day lose all meaning

Future societies and new civilizations
will one day laugh at our absurd efforts.
They will ask,
where it all led?
From dust,
back to dust.
Is this pessimism?
Or is it truth?

Is it objective thinking,
refusing to believe that
we are anything substantial?
America, England, China,
one day will fall and be counted among the ranks of
Babylon, Petra, Atlantis.
So far lost, mating with myth,
losing all truth.

One day they will laugh at our irrelevancy.
For civilizations come and go,
and what is an empire
will one day be ruins.
This was inspired by a lecture in Absurdism the other day.
Absurdism- (noun) the belief that human beings exist in a purposeless, chaotic universe
Reece Sep 2013
Damask robes on the severed road, as Severin sings the boot precociously
Furs and spurs are the roots of inevitable depression, the rain in the gutter
Flows like so many streams to the town of your birth
See that scar and revel in it, for the clock that tocks is dying so eloquently
And here, I shall hold your hand and convey irrelevancy

These days seem so long
Words leave a vapid hole in my soul
Are you reading this closely,
Meaningless as it seems

Each poem like a crack of the whip, my back scarred and bloodied
Each person, in a line, taking the time to abuse my mind
and today I am freed from the ties that... keep me safe
But still bound by the ******* of a million people
Each one suffers, and I lay awake in the evening damp
Listening, still listening, to the cries of the camp
the irrelevancy of this day
blots the Sun
with the suffocating light of indifference

the urge to scream is often there
just below that inane giggle
that maniacal grin

that ever recurring crystalline voice
whispering from the lips of a fading thought
'we are all undeniably
irrevocably
lost'
If silence were to overwhelm in quiet noise
Noise to overwhelm in loud silence
We would.....would we?
Resume to mediocrity
Squander in and out of the
Hum drum notion
A shallow scale of beige
Quick quicksand, slow quick quick slow pace
To a death by chocolate wrapped up in a silver
Game plan of beige instructions

You told me this before signing irrelevancy into
The first line
Out of the way to straightforward
Mental monotony......you wrote

We walked waywardly
Shells scrambled underfoot
To find contrast amiss 
You didn't talk
Of wandering off course, the
Art of expression took
Our lullaby

We read the recipe for cement, cooked on
High alert
Locked one another in the eye....
beadily

Chose safely, colours of beige
Walled......wall to wall.
Behind the shadowed brickwork
Pen Lux Apr 2011
avoiding: love.
or the pains of being in love
when there's indecision,
when I needed there not to be,
when it was coming from both ends.

my tears were like  
stepping stones
(a path you've avoided:
because it hurts too much
to feel, or it's easier to pretend
like those feelings
don't exist).
the fear and hesitation
of letting someone else
see
the steps you've taken,
and not
wanting to explain
how they led you to where you are
because it's hard to tell the truth
when you've been lying:
to everyone.

Without realizing it
half of the time,
and then the other half
I just lay in bed worrying about it,
or what other people think.

The thoughts led me to the point
where I couldn't leave my house,
or my room, or my bed.
The depression made me sick
and I didn't know how to deal with it
in any other way than letting it consume,
[like always]
because I was so obsessed with feeling
as much as I could, as intensely as possible.
I just didn't realize how self-destructive it was
because of the people I surrounded myself with
and the people that I wanted to, but didn't.

New Years: I decided not to make any resolutions.
Commitment still isn't my strong point, but I'm working on it.

I didn't treat those days like they were important,
and they weren't:
at the time.

I sought irrelevancy,
and silence,
and thought
and lack: of feeling, of thought, of silence.
Everything in my mind soon became contradiction
and it didn't take long for me to turn into the person
I feared most to become,
and even after I destroyed the image of it all,
it still existed in memory.

back to relevancy.

It's not about the timing.
It's all about the timing.

it's the situation:
the lack of feeling?
the lack of wanting.
the lack of empathy?
the lack of interest.
the lack of mystery?
the lack of understanding.

want is no way to love.
*** is no way to love.
drugs are no way to escape
(they just made me crazy)
crazy?
with thoughts of you,
with trying to forget about you
with trying to please everyone
with... everything.

I was afraid, so I tried my hand at avoiding:

conversation.
   (there was too much hurt coming from my end
to yours. I couldn't move on, because I loved you,
but I couldn't love you, because I couldn't love myself,
[or anyone else]. The idea of love grew too big,
    [in my mind] [in my pen] [in my journal] [in my life]
[the air around us] [the color of your eyes] [in memory]
[in the amount of time spent worrying about the possibilities
  of things that could go wrong]).

confrontation.
   (The only way I knew how to say sorry was to hold you,
and holding can mean too many different things and physical
translation has never been my strong point).

truth.
(with lies)
                (with truth)
(with secrets)
      (with whatever seemed to work at the time).


making changes
instead of planning changes.

I've said sorry too many times for the wrong reasons,
and not enough for the right ones.

I'm just glad to be myself again.
B  Jun 2014
The Art Gallery
B Jun 2014
When someone says "I love you"
I struggle to believe it, regardless of sincerity
A year ago I should've shoved a rifle down your throat
and shot the insanity out of your stomach
I would have covered a bullet in my lipstick
and left it in your skull,
You always thought I couldn't get into your head.

Love's not a weapon
and I'd never use it as one like you did
but hate is, and I hang my loathing for you
in an expensive frame on the wall
I'm proud to display your irrelevancy and sociopathic tendencies like an art gallery
Kelsey Thorsen Aug 2012
Like a dormant volcano, it sits--
Not quite dead
But void of its once endless vitality
Passion bows to apathy
The depth and the vastness remain,
Its sheer mass still impressive
But like an ancient legend from centuries past,
It sits--cold and stiff and tired,
Drowning in a sea of dust and irrelevancy
What is death
But fuel without flame?
Dormant is not dead
Patient is the beast who slumbers through winter
As bitter and lonely as it may be--
Though he cannot be certain
He knows if he can endure the winter,
He just may be rewarded with spring
ᗺᗷ  Jan 2016
Unbalanced
ᗺᗷ Jan 2016
The chances of winning the lottery is about 292 million to one
Subsequently the probability of exhausting your fortune
Back down to being broke is 70%
The odds of you becoming more broken than when you started thereafter is 100%
Getting something for nothing conflicts with the 1st Law of Thermodynamics
The problem herein is mindset
The brain is not ready to handle what it has not be trained to grasp
What you do not grasp you will lose
Every last bit
I know this
I have always flexed the left side of my brain far more than its counterpart
The world just makes more sense that way
In fact the world used to make a lot more sense until the day I met her
The brain she had drew strength from the right side
Creating the perfect yin to my yang
Her first name was an unbalanced equation
That my last name would be the answer to
How opposites attract is a study that used to fascinate me
But the laws of attraction will only work for so long
Until one body is acted upon by an unbalanced force
Trying to solve the riddle- I mean equation
That began at her lips left me crunching numbers
With my teeth on the back of her neck
The chances of me finding her were 292 million to one
I spent day after day after day joining my fingers-I mean digits, with hers
Crisscrossing two destinies- I’m sorry, years, into one lifetime
With the promise of forever, or infinity, on her tongue
Love- I mean dopamine, no!
I mean happiness, I mean the very cradle of divinity, no!
I mean biochemical *******, intersubjectivity, romantic singularity-

******* IT!

What I’m trying to say that is she took my tongue and taught it a new language
She showed me the irrelevancy of numbers and logistics
And replaced them with a black hat
She reached into and pulled the impossible out of  
In time, she would ask me to stick my hands in and see what I could find
But instead, I was pulled into a black hole sitting at the very bottom of it
Stretching the fabric of my neurons
Ripping my mind in half, the left side of me left forever
Leaving me with only the right, which is wrong
I have become something I do not know how to be
Feeling hot while cold, full while emptied, arrested while freed all at once
The unfamiliar became my everyday
The brain waves of love and insanity identical
Where hours melted to minutes
Until I was pulled out of that place by an by unknown hand
To meet an unfamiliar face, in a very strange world
I could see it in her eyes, reflecting mine back to me
That the world as I knew it no longer existed
The black and white of a once perfect ying and yang
Bleed fully onto each other to create a complete grayness
I took my chances, ignored the facts, swallowed by the impossible
Left broken on the other side of an equation that I was never ready to solve
Because I never realized that love and sadness could exist in the same space
How some days I can’t tell one feeling from the other
How some days I consider these feelings once came from nothing
How some days I wonder if I’ll ever make it back to who I was
And maybe, just maybe, I will find those broken pieces in the palm of her hand
So most days my eyes are shut tight
Still wishing for her hands to create a miracle and pull me out of this place
But would she even recognize me now?
Or will I only ever be a soft memory of the broken promise of forever?

— The End —