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FC Azaele May 4
Paperworks and junks pilled into mountains
on top of my ruined desk
“I wonder what had went wrong
for me to stack up such a mess?”

Indolent, Oh! so petulant!...
But still I digress
Saying I didn’t have time
To sort out the cluttering hefty mess

Jesting around with the things that avert my gaze,
Such a child I was,
I paid no mind to it all day

But...
Night came too soon,
and instantly I say...
“When will I ever sort out this mess?”

Perhaps never, but still I say
“Someday, okay?”
Hip Hip Hooray!
chang cosido Nov 2020
I should stop this fruitless job
‎of keeping obsolete little things
‎that never did
‎anything good for me.
‎Maybe i should start
‎by unfolding old unsent letters
‎bare from the enthusiasm i used to
‎envelope them in.
‎Then, i'll throw away pretty glass bottles,
emptied by their contents
‎of sweet perfumes and wild dreams.
‎Pick up plastic beads ,
‎loose from the strings tied
by friendships
‎i used to wrap around my wrists.
‎I should discard useless trinkets,
‎cute nothings and dead mementos.
‎Declutter and make room-
‎for other things ,
‎like self-appreciation,
‎growth,love
  and
‎maybe a pen
‎ or two.
Jonathan Moya Oct 2020
It soothes me to keep
the clutter of the past
in picture albums
on my cell phone:
mother’s yellow dresses,
ashes in weighted urns,
brittle  
birth and death certificates,
enough heirlooms
to make a portable history,
things heavy enough
to resist memory’s drift,
for when
the hills blaze up
and I have to evacuate,
leave everything behind—
I am ready to
be an immigrant
once more.
Olivia Catherine Sep 2020
Here I sit at a desk that was once my mother’s,
Now papered with little yellow sticky notes.
Perhaps at one time it was neat and tidy, the way my mother is,
But now it’s a constellation of my wandering thoughts,
And things I must remember to do.

Clinging on to each other with all their might,
Little golden papers inscribed with various shades of ink,
At any moment, one may fall to the ground, like an oak leaf in a September breeze,
Finally letting go of its branch and swimming to the ground with a sigh,
To be swept away and forgotten.

Perhaps that little paper held a word I liked,
Or some mundane task that now I’ll never remember to do,
Perhaps it was a lyric, a fragment of a song I heard and found memorable,
A perfect little collection of words strung together like lace,
Leaving an empty space in the yellow foliage.

Here I sit at a desk that was once my mother’s,
That is now papered with small yellow sticky notes,
Thinking that there’s beauty in the way things are, a sort of cadence to the rhythm of everything,
Searching for the meaning of life in a cluster of yellow sticky notes,
Included in a list of chores, or written between the words of a love song.
John McCafferty Sep 2020
Our systems show myopic woes
Foresight floats instilled in days
Who gains the most from short term aims
So easy to consume at pace
Routine breaks what hunger takes
Dilated weight from piled plates
To run on empty drives our kind
Spurred on by impulse
Mind caked in space

Clear your clutter on our way
Can shortcuts passed inhibit growth
Will we endure effective change
Sustain slower long term flows
To enter a fairer age
Filled with wisdom of younger days
Which ambitions reign supreme
When the state of fullness is temporary
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Doing what you're supposed to,
Is a mixed feeling in itself,
Trying to chase something better,
While I sit at a place
And appreciate the clutter.
Hammond Colson May 2020
Ant trap in the corner with snowy dust atop its peak
Unmarked by death under a green paint chipped sky
Because one universal truth has been passed down
Through generations of insects
Nourished by the fruits of my room
There's poison in the flowers under the mountains
And that's a reason I can live isolated
In conditions this vile
Any critiques, observations and thoughts welcome! I just want to get better
Shakytrumpet Dec 2019
I try to talk
and begin to stu
tter
so much emotion and words
rushing
out
they clut
ter. Strings of thoughts tie up in knots,
a conglomerate of phrases,
I solve my sentences like
mazes.
I can't talk to say my thoughts so I'll write them out instead
putting all my emotion out in neat lines straight from my head
i do not stu stu stu stutter... except when i do like a speech, my hands have like tremors and i can't get any words out. or when I talk to a certain someone
Also if you didn't like this i can assure you my comical haikus are much better some are a bit offensive so you've been warned
Peter Balkus Jun 2019
Only Love matters,
the rest is a clutter
you won't take with you
on the journey - Home.
If you would like to support my poetry, you can do it via link: paypal.me/pbalkus
Ed C Apr 2019
I got a new desk today,
I thought "HEY!
if I get a new desk
I'll be able to fix this mess!"
I put together the desk,
it wasn't hard,
I didn't sweat.
I put it in my room
and I got upset
because despite the desk
being beautiful and tall
wooden and long
perfect for that corner in my room,
it was not big enough for the clutter
and the mess
and the stress
and all the books and the stuff
that I need around me.
So now I have a desk and my things
and we all float together in my solitude.
Sometimes you need a desk and sometimes the desk doesn't need you.
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