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Bill Higham Apr 2016
the joyful indolence of a summer's day,
the siesta lull which wakes
to a slow pushbike ride,
or momentary lapses into conversation
under the shade of the banyan tree
Brent Kincaid Feb 2016
You say you’ll give me everything
But all I get from you
Is a lot of promises
And kitchy kitchy koo.
You said I’d get a diamond ring
Before the week was through.
Then you said you lost your job
And wanted kitchy koo.

The washing machine
No longer works
And neither do you.
I wish I was exaggerating,
But every word is true.
All I get to look forward to
Is kitchy Kitchy Koo.

Kitchy kitchy koo
When it all begins.
It’s a lot of fun till when
All the kitchy koo ends
You best start out as friends.

Our love life is super hot
But there are other things to do.
Life involves so much more
Than kitchy kitchy koo.
Groceries and cleaning matter
Though not that much to you.
It’s too bad you don’t get paid
For kitchy kitchy koo.

I never thought I would complain
About making love with you.
It isn’t that part that bothers me
So, let me drop the other shoe.
There are seven days every week
And things we adults must do.
And only a tiny percent of that
Involves kitchy kitchy koo.

Kitchy kitchy koo
It’s a catchy rhyme
Just have fun all the time.
When the kitchy koo ends
We may just part as friends.
Akemi Jan 2016
There’s too much air to breathe here.
A swirling mass of emptiness heaves through the crowd’s lungs.
Won’t everyone just *******--

Someone sings at the bus stop just outside my window.
Wires hum, ignoring the melody that person has so carefully constructed.
A hiss.
Rising steam.
An abrupt end.

Another listless night.
A beetle flies in through my open window.
It takes me twenty minutes to help it back out.

I think about wandering the forest.
But am too scared to confront loneliness, and the frailty of human existence.

There is a gap forming already.
A dialectic that seeks to sublate my very identity.
Subsume those closest to me.
Until I am completely alone.

There is a bush down the street which is in bloom right now.
I think the sun is too hot.
The flowers are wilted.
And the pavement is littered with dead bees.

An exchange.
A language game.
Two horizons meet, merge, melt.
The horizons drop.
If only for a moment.
And the abyss is revealed.

The only universal in this world is that we are all alone.
Trapped in our own understanding.
Forever interpreting one another.

I am waiting for the day the wind carries me out the window.
Perhaps it will never come.
Perhaps I will live a long boring life amongst friends, family, and all those people I despise.
Oh well.
No point, either way.
2:36am, January 22nd 2016

Lacuna lacuna lacuna.
Death death death.
Was was was.
Is is is.
Madhumita Apr 2015
It is time to wake up
from the languid daydreams
that once I treasured so.

The place that used to be a haven,
an escape from life’s banality,
now feels like a gilded cage.

The mind wanders, untethered,
through sunlit corridors of indolence
pushing to see how far it can go.

Tantalizing me with possibilities,
never reality, this limbo
is only good for the occasional vacation.
NaPoWriMo Day #26
Poetry form: Tercet
Anthony Williams Jul 2014
Another beautiful crisis
brightens Sunday's morning news
and waking refreshed
... as if
I still decide on a sleepless-in
possibilities dissipating with ease
into golden rays of early afternoon
zero balance cloud
there are old friends to still not write to
projects to incomplete abound
***** ones that I particularly hate
a few small fixes around the house
I need to leave for another week
neglected strawberries in the fridge
which have grown plump and rich
grey beards overnight that merge
the scent of expired fires on the beach
and stubbed out cigarette filters
I can always listen to the summer rain
gurgling down the broken gutter
after the inspiring insanity
of the past few days
it's nice to discover any
kind of mental rest impossible
and with all those wonderful plans
happening all at once
there's a special loveliness to be found
discovering they're all ones I can't face
then there's parties to attend
... of course
... I wish!
but maybe a quick check of my email
hope you're having a perfect weekend
and that it's beautiful where you are
—roséline xo
you pain
by Anthony Williams
13 Apr 2014
Indolence always gets the best of me
I feel like a jab
painting images without metaphors,
avoiding the intense visions of the lot
Indifferent, inebriated.
All demons slayed. Spread eagle.
Life seems to be a hassle,
in two ways on the same street
I am the attention *****
who wants to be left alone
Pushing them back only draws them closer
Today is no different,
a muse, a good laugh, a realization
my schedule is full again.

I just want to spend my time
anything else lacks luster
Goal: (noun)
1. aim, 2. end, 3. target, 4. purpose,
5. intention, 6. objective, 7. ambition,
I have none.
You can't force me, try as you may.
What does pique my interest is art
If I ever get over self indulgence,
which I will market emphatically,
I may consider starting a career
Controversies are fun, so is ******
to balance them both in one hand
and collect with the other
that is art.
Form, the world has never seen.
Abstract ambiguity rewriting itself.
Displeasing parents and loved ones around.
The one the perverts idolize
the critics would bow in awe to
Ah yes...

I feel so lazy.
Posted on 14th October 2013 9:27am.
Akemi Oct 2013
This sore saviour keeps a straight-faced stare
Lips pressed tight, tongue wedged in teeth
While watching indolence twist in haste
To reach the next refuge

Revulsion that we two symbols share
That same motion-sickness fear
One of action, the other of consequence
Or lack thereof; without / within
12:16am, October 5th 2013

People are so selfish and childish. I thought if I went to uni I would finally find others who were motivated, driven; who wanted to change the world, fix it; but I just see the same directionless children that we were meant to have left behind after high school. Maybe I've just become jaded . . .
or maybe most people never truly change. Maybe they truly do want to stay ignorant, to everything but their immediate surroundings. I just get so angry and so heartbroken, that even if people know their actions indirectly harm others, they won't care as long as it doesn't harm them. They think the lack of a direct connection lessens their own involvement. Or they think it's a part of life--that some suffer, and since we are not those people we should make the most of what we have.
No. Life is about happiness, but that does NOT mean just your own. If I'm going to be anything in life, I want to know I've increased more than my own happiness. More than the happiness of those in my immediate surroundings.
I just don't know how to change people's perspectives. I feel like my words will have no effect. Dismissed as another activist, freeloader; outgrouped and stereotyped without another thought. As much as activists are derided for being more emotional than rational, I see few of those critics giving rational responses. Once I hated people, then I tried to change them; now, I don't know what to do.

— The End —