Le malheur se cache derrière milles profils ténébreux
Et attend que le match insignifiant de vermine
Infirme mon idée tordue de l'être amoureux.
Le malheur séduit au lit par ses promesses d'ivresse sauvage
Qu'attendez-vous pour m'écrire,
Et m'aplatir dans ma désolante dignité au passage?
Le malheur s'invite seul à mes soupers assourdissants de vide
Et exhume les faux espoirs assommés
De mensonges médiocres; alors je me les imagine...
***** de moi, et moi, **** de leurs pensées
Entre les espérances dupées et celles perforées d'épines
Le malheur me couve, le malheur se rend légitime.
i brought my Fear and Trembling to the hills
i don't want to think of the stacking bills
those trivial things no longer give me the thrills
or the quiet love that slowly kills
“...why bother remembering a past that cannot be made into a present?”
that line had me bent
all the things i thought i could mend
why must i fall towards the deep end
i must reflect upon what is past
but life must be lived forward...;
a poem on the quiet reflection i had in a train on the way home.
alone at last
a blessing it is
to remove my masks
in solitary bliss
no more acting
and trying to please
just me myself and
my mind at ease
I bought a coffee the other day,
Gawped at society on the way,
Coffee shop like the undertakers,
Here no conversation makers,
"The crowd" sitting in total silence,
Gazing at phones, is it sense?
So much for that coffee shop,
The solitude of worshiping Microsoft,
Alone together, where does it stop?
Solitary silence in the coffee shop!
So I shall no longer defend
New kinds of love that you invent
Ever-changing list of demands
Keeps contradicting its own commands
After the sin quick to repent
With brief engagements in descent
Straighten all that you have bent
Amend what you're yet to amend
Letting those you left all depend
On your attention already spent
At each new encounter decadent
Your passion wasted on random men
Though fell, kept grace, that's evident
For what it's worth your growth is imminent
Freestyle written in 5 minutes.
Lone your stupor sits.
ambrosia never stang like this
since last the rain came stinging.
Ah but puddles my dear,
I'll watch your splish splash
but let us not forget
the protection glass affords.
I fear large numbers.
It's not the hands per se,
rather the eyelashes
and how they remind me of teeth.
They chew me up
with a glance.
Still, what good
could one decimal eyelash hope for
faced with Napoleon's specters.
I'd wager on scarce.
Even so, eyelashes chewed through
I'll have to buy
a new one.
One that isn't so fond of how the Swiss
Not that it's desired
but it's still nice to have a tally
in the loner's column,
now and again.
These words are a product of my sadness
A coping mechanism to all this madness
Do we accept the love we think we deserve?
Why am I only creative when I’m at my worst?
React or stay calm when that line is crossed
Was there ever any trust before it was lost?
A short poem isn’t enough to describe
The thing I always held on to
My suffering and pain inside
At any sign of discomfort a voice reminds
Of the easy way out, one way ticket to the other side
Does it matter at this point
When I’m full of anger
And all I do is disappoint
Mes émotions tourbillonnent
Comme les étoiles de Van Gogh
**** d’être étincelantes
Elles étranglent mon cerveau
Puis me tirent vers un abîme profond
Où ma solitude me fait perdre la raison
Me fait croire que j’ai besoin de caresses
De baisers, d’amour et de tendresse
The deep-set abhorrence
Of standing alone—
Where is it from?
I stand on dead grass
Staring dead eyes in the face in the glass reflecting off my screen.
I look mean, dead angry eyes and my brows too dark—
I look mean;
mean and alone.
On dead grass in dumb boots
Waiting for too many factors
Before telling myself
To move on.
My thorns turn blunt
My shields let arrows through
My life-risking stunt has left me life-still too
The echo comes from muttered den
The day's too violent
To youth that be I shout "Plague me again, miscreant"
The cave's ajar
The wounds are fresh
The head spins, body scarred
Treacle of death
The cold that swallowed me
It burns the soul that's spent
To love that reaching tries I shout "Plague me again, miscreant"
This was supposed to be a longer song lyrics, but I don't have the means of recording or any instrumental skill, so I gave up on that.