#bland
Oh, how quiet I am.
Oh, how quiet my life is
Oh, how dull and bland.
How grey the skies are.
How silence follows me everywhere like a ghost incessantly haunting me.
But, this ghost is familiar.
One I know very well.
So, in those moments I let the ghost haunt me and it allows me to try to make sense of the grey skies within me.
And, I've learned to appreciate this friend who follows me so loyally.
For its presence is a warm embrace.
Now, I know.
The ghost haunting me isn't dull or a curse.
It's beautiful.
And, now I stare up at those same grey cloudy skies and smile.
And my new friend smiles as well.
Feb 13
Feb 13, 2026 at 3:23 PM UTC
The worst part is the lack
Of color
Vibrance…
And no amount of Giant Steps
Could avoid the emptiness.
I heard about a torture technique
Where the prisoner is placed in an
Empty white room
With only white light to see
And white rice to eat.
I think the alienation I feel
Is like a form of that.
Lifelike solitary confinement.
Nov 22, 2019
Nov 22, 2019 at 11:14 AM UTC
I've lived in the outskirts all my life
I've met in the outskirts my friends and my wife
I've built in the outskirts a comfortable hive
I'll make in the outskirts my kids, four or five
I've been here in outskirts both night and day
I went to school, college, work in the same place
I've never been made aware of any other way
Than the one I've been using in outsirkts again and again
The outskirts are comfortable, the outskirts are safe
Nothing's ever going down there, neither good nor bad
There is no grand ambition behind its bland face
No life goals or life to love behind its made bed
In outskirts I've lived, loved, ate, ****** slept, dreamt, hated, berated, been bored and amused, adored and abused, depleted, exhausted, destroyed and rebuilt, encouraged and spewed, all encompassing comfort of life's dullest views
The outskirts are comfortable, they are always secure
In outskirts I've lived my whole life and more
All outskirts look the same, but mine is the best
For my outskirts is where my humble home stands
Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 4:57 AM UTC
filth compiles
with the lights on
all these letdown sunday nights
what's in this dust now
a forgotten name
that ruined my life
there was just no other door
to walk through at the time
i stayed and stayed
called your name
forgot i was a woman too
when my savior came
to save me, i didn't go with him
he wasn't you
i stayed and stayed
called your name
until i was nothing
until i was no one
he was my stolen sun,
a stolen sun , a savior came
to save me, i didn't go with him
he wasn't you, no he wasn't you
forgot i was a woman too
until i was nothing
until i was no one.
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 1:34 AM UTC
I stared in front of me, at a peculiar object that had no formality.
It was a bland wall, had no opening, nor space, just blank.
It was oddly amusing, trying to foresee beyond it, trying to see what could be the meaning behind it.
The wall had no writing, or drawings, no patterns, or carvings.
Staring blindly, I couldn't see.
"Change your perception, use a different sense"
The voice said.
Pressing my hands against it, resting my forehead on it, and closing my eyes.
I felt it
I heard the banging, the screaming, the blood spattering, the squealing, the gasping, the echos, the sounds crying out for help.
I heard the knife slashing and gun shooting, I heard it all.
I suddenly felt something jolt through my body, like an electric shock.
I landed hard, back first on the ground.
Losing consciousness...
I saw it
I saw everything. EVERYTHING.
Waking up in a blanked out terror, I finally understood it.
It was me, in the form of my subconscious.
A metaphor of the desperate plead, cries, and help I call out to those that I love.
But, silent echos cannot whisper in the dark, and my voice cannot be heard.
SO, I suffer more, all by myself.
Yes, You can see the wall, but, if you choose not to listen to it, you won't see what's behind it, on the other side.
You choose to be misunderstanding.
You choose to be ignorant, and brain washed by lies.
But, if you actually took your own time and tried to feel the wall without any fear, maybe, just maybe, you would truly understand.
So, I stare at this bland wall, has no opening, no space.
But when I heard and saw what was on the other side, my perception changed.
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 10:01 AM UTC
Mellifluous are the songs of moon
lit lips pressing a maddened
heart as mine!
This largest night ate the orchards
and prismatic towns by the shores
where waves say goodbye torturing
women who have lost their sailors
on calmer nights.
Instead of life the sea has come
has come to take from me
all i have called normality
what most who love may dislike
what some who hate may balance
i n l i f e :
a severe disinclination
or tolerance for such as me!
so cold are some it feels as stings
from a polar bee!
:: 09-08-2018 ::
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 9:57 PM UTC
All food has lost its taste
and wine its buzz
Empty
there is no comfort in the sounds
no familiarity in the smiles
Empty
empty is how I feel inside
an important part of my soul is missing
I do not sleep, I do not dream
the emptiness yawns to swallow everything
return and take the missing part of my soul with you
come back and anchor me
for I am empty without you.
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 11:45 AM UTC
For those who taste nothing but bland food,
some sweetness is a welcome change.
But for others who know nothing but sugar,
that sweetness seems to turn sour.
Perhaps what you are tasting is not bland,
you have just become accustomed to sweet.
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 12:53 AM UTC
I have tasted how bitter the world could be,
and how sometimes you'd find clarity
at the bottom of a bottle.
I know that blood pretty much tastes like rust
and that instant sleep can come from a pill,
leaving a sickening aftertaste.
I know how liquor burns your throat
and how it fast forwards everything
while you're stuck in slow motion.
I know how tears
aren't that different from seawater—
you'd drown in either, one way or another.
I've become numb enough
to tolerate fire and venom,
numb enough to say
that the world tastes bland.
My appetite for life
continues to deteriorate.
I no longer want to taste
the world in all its flavors,
I no longer want experiences
served on silver platters.
No matter the presentation,
Nothing ever seems worth savoring anymore.
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 11:17 AM UTC
have you ever tried to write poetry
when you’re not at all feeling poetic?
when life isn’t necessarily ugly
but it isn’t necessarily beautiful either?
when you could talk about
the sonder you try to feel
as the people sitting at tables around you
eat their food, talk on the phone, finish their homework, sip their coke
do whatever it is they do
when you could talk about how the
chill of this air reaches underneath
your goosebump skin
and draws out a shiver, a chatter
when you could capture the sounds
of the ice machine
and the clicking keyboard keys
and the rusty sliding of chairs on
a linoleum floor
when you could write about
whatever you **** well please
but it just doesn’t come to you?
have you ever been too tired
to feel tired?
god, i wish i were awake.
life is happening
and where am i?
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 1:49 PM UTC
p o p !
goes the
eyes of
a
goddess
when in
her hand
laid the
mirror.
no such
reflection
she had
looked at,
like a still
before her
—
where is
the pearl
complex-
ion she'd
smooth-
ened out
f o r
herself ?
where is
the eyes
she had
s e e n
herself th
rough for
the past
century ?
"what is
t h i s
malfun-
ction ? "
s h e
asked.
"it is the
i m a g e
of souls,
d e a r
goddess.
it shows
n o n e
but the
t r u t h,"
said the
y o u n g
daedalus.
the dear
goddess
laughed.
a mere
m o r t a l,
pondered
the immo-
rtal, who
d a r e s
tell me
who i am ?
she took an
other look
at her own
i m a g e
—
the too pale
skin and it's
monotonous
effect on her
bland face
—
and then,
she smashed
the imagery
of her own
s l.
o u
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 11:09 PM UTC
ᶦ ᵃᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵇᶦᵗᵉˢ ᵗᵒⁿᵍᵘᵉˢ
ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᶦˢʰᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵇˡᵉᵉᵈ
ˢᵒ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᶦᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵒⁿᵉ
ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ
ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵉᵃᵏˢ ˡᵒʳᵉ ᶦⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰˢ
ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ
ᵉᵃʳˢ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ᵒᵘᵗ
ᵉⁿᵛᵉˡᵒᵖᶦⁿᵍ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶻᵉⁿ
ᵒᶠ ⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵒᵘˢᶦⁿᵍ
ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵉᵉᶦⁿᵍ ˢᵘⁿˢ
ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ˢᶦⁿᶜᵉ ˢᵉᵗ
ᵇʳᵒʷˢᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃʷᵃᶦᵗᵉᵈ ᵒᶜᶜᵃˢᶦᵒⁿ
ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ
ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵒᵐ ᴵ ᵈᶦⁿᵉ
ᶠᵉᵃˢᵗᶦⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵘⁿᶜᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵐᵘᶜᵘˢ
ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᶦˡᵉ
ᵗᵒ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ᴵ ᶜʰᵒᵏᵉ ᵒⁿ ᶦᵗ
ᵃⁿᵈ ᵏⁿᵒʷ
ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵈᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ᶜˡᵒᶜᵏ
ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ˢᵗʳᶦᵏᵉˢ ᵗʷᵉˡᵛᵉ
ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉˡᶦˢʰ ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ
ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʸᵉˡˡˢ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈ ˢᵒ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ
ᶦᵗ ᶠᵒˢᵗᵉʳˢ ᶦⁿ ᵐʸ ᵒʷⁿ ˢᵏᵘˡˡ
ᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᵍˡᵉ ᵐʸ ᶜʰᶦⁿ
ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ.
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 12:35 PM UTC
A holy pilgrim downtrodden
I once saw the face
A goal clear, a path to take
No fear
No hope of fame
But never felt better
Now
Every single breath i take is leaving me sedated
I know just what home i'm looking for
And i know just how to make it
Mix up life, ****** up this time
But living isn't going to save it
Out of hate, white hot embrace
There's something here to entertain me
Finding time to reconcile
Dripping good will through an iv
A passive medication to alleviate the vile
New crime wave
Time to turn around
Its far too late
To take the fathers crown
A symbol of atrophy
Status reanimate in head space
Living through the air waves
God knows that its far too late
Decrepit in the negative
And that's the way you'll find me
Dead inside or otherwise
Becoming like a zombie
Staring at a color or
Listen for a note
To hit upon a heart-string
Played out, made up like an over coat
We live between the times
The time is stated
Above the waking world
Come guess what thread i'll next unwind
Hanging in the vacuum of a fragile state of mind
I am lonely
Yeah
It's fine.
Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 1:35 AM UTC
Everything around me is gray
People phase in and out
Friends just kinda are there
Your family stands in the background
Like an old, grainy, black and white picture
Rain falls in time with your tears
Who can tell you're even there
Like a ghost you flit in and out of life
A spectator to everything
Participant in nothing
Life just seems...kind of bland
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 4:15 PM UTC
my life is like a glass,
it isn't empty but there's very little water.
and it's not the type of water
that tastes better than usual;
it's just flat and bland,
not even lapping like calming beach waves,
or an excited dog.
it just sits motionless in its trap,
transparent and devoid of colour.
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 5:20 AM UTC
Life is like a piece of gum
You unwrap a new piece,
Like a fresh start
You start chewing that piece,
Learning how to live
You can blow it,
Let it expand and expand
Until sometimes
It explodes in your face
It might be hard
To clean it off
Sticking everywhere
Making problems
It might take a while
But as you learn
You’ll get better
Through trials
Until the whole piece
Is back in your mouth
Sometimes the gum will get bland
You’ll get bored and sick
You’ll want something new
Something exciting
Something different
So you’ll spit out your gum
Wrap it in a wrapper
And toss it in the garbage
Where it will stay
So you don’t have to remember
Unless you want to
Then you’ll buy a new
And exciting pack of gum
An exciting flavor!
Maybe cinnamon, maybe fruit
Maybe even a mystery pack
Then you’ll start over
A new chapter
Filled with new tastes
And experiences
Like a fresh piece of gum
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 7:38 PM UTC
shamed for showing too much
shamed for not showing enough
over ****** warrants being called a ****
not ****** enough and I’m called a *****
so what am I supposed to do?
never leave the comfort of my judgement free home?
oh wait, that’s not true
mainstream media bashing the idea of individuality
sure they say they support it
but if they really did
would we, constantly, see the same features, plastered on magazines?
trends change quickly
and my body sure as heck can’t keep up
that’s okay though,
I was never one to conform to the societal standard
the thick thighs, “fat *** skinny waist, and big *******
that I’m supposed to have,
but am supposed to cover up?
I’m sorry but if I had been “blessed” with those physical attributes
I would not be so eager to cover them up
and is “blessed” even the right word to describe
what so many women have come to despise?
large chests that cause back pains,
the unwanted attention and ****** comments?
maybe they aren’t so blessed,
but are rather cursed
that in a society like ours
we are taught to hate ourselves no matter what
instead of embracing the unique beauty that we are gifted
rather than celebrate the intricate details of our souls
and the crazy two A.M. thoughts that run through our minds
the stunning stream of consciousness that separates us from the rest
but unfortunately,
we have assimilated into one
bland society,
where variety is shunned
and everyone is the same
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 12:00 PM UTC
Sitting on this bench with a mask on my face
Wondering why I'm in such a desolate place
The cars rush past, and the traffic lights change
From morning to the afternoon everyday it's the same
Recently it seems
I prefer anonymity
With a skull half-mask in position
And nothing but silence around me
Stuck in my head
The one place that I dread
When thoughts beckon me
And my eyes fail to see
Surrounding me, lies the darkness
So bland yet so beautiful in all its' starkness
If I'm being honest
I prefer to hear the sound rather than silence
Welcome to my life
Where the light reflection from a knife
Can hold me captivated
Ensnares me, holds my gaze
Completely and utterly fixated
Where the flickering flames of fire
Make me want to click the lighter
And make my own little pyre
And watch it at my minds desire
In the midst of night
Where smoke rises in uncertain light
And quells my urge to fight
And encourages my desire to take flight
I can be so easily captivated....
So easily fixated...
Upon the simple things
Surrounding me, lies the darkness
So bland yet so beautiful in all its' starkness
If I'm being honest
I prefer to hear the sound rather than silence
Surrounding me, lies the darkness
So bland yet so beautiful in all its' starkness
If I'm being honest
I prefer to hear the sound rather than
This screaming silence
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 5:10 AM UTC
- is the taste of your name on my lips (whenever I try to recall the sweet thoughts I had, before the bitter aftertaste of what we were).
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 2:29 PM UTC
Love,
Fortunate,
Cheerful,
Happy,
Excited,
Enthralled,
Ecstatic,
Fantastic,
and Fascinated.
Are the list of words
That are so bland
In comparison to how I feel,
when I take your hand.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 3:08 AM UTC
Why does every emotion live across the street from me?
I stare every day
over my morning coffee in this blank apartment
trying to stay awake,
alive.
And the apartment across the street has a window,
an open window,
and I spy inside and glimpse the colors.
I remember having those here living with me.
How though
can I trust memories of feelings I've forever lost to the next building?
Can I?
I feel their echoes.
But when I go downstairs the pancakes will be flavorless and
blandly white with gray thick
nothing syrup
drizzled all across them. I'll have to eat
to stay alive
but don't think I like it one bit.
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 12:34 AM UTC
i am, (U L T I M A T E L Y, )the
dea;th and the re[trib ution:: of th}}is w/retch'd human race.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 4:55 PM UTC
Finding myself tired and uninspired
at least the bed left me today.
I did my laundry
what more do you want from me
I can't think of much else
in this haze.
Sometimes,
the passions stop.
I no longer see the sputtering
of yellow lines down
a highway
as something I could recreate
into a beautiful composition.
The sky is only grey
and no longer the keeper of
nostalgic malaise.
My feet only move me
when bothered for the trouble
and howl and moan
every mile of road
they encounter.
I don't have a real position on
the matter
when my thoughts scatter
and I'm left with hollow eyes
and a succulent consciousness
gone dry.
I don't have a snarky reply
just another useless day
I unwillingly offer up
to the unforgiving clock
and a loss of sentiment.
C.e.m.
3.10.15
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 10:23 AM UTC