#complaints
I don't want to eat breakfast
Or watch my favorite show
Don't want to eat lunch either
Or take walks in the snow
I don't want to watch leaves turn
Or take trips to the beach
Don't really want to read my books
And I don't want to teach
I don't want to take a bath
Don't want to call my friends
I don't want to play in rain
My gosh, this never ends
I don't want to change my clothes
Or pet the neighbor's dog
I just want someone to say
How long this will go on
I don't want to meet new friends
Or see old ones, either
I don't want to see anyone
Or to be lonely, neither.
And I don't need to be in love
I don't want a new car
Today, I just want to be done,
My life has gone too far
So tell me that it's over now
And that I can finally sleep
Then slowly watch me fade away
Pray the LORD my soul to keep
Aug 22, 2025
Aug 22, 2025 at 4:11 PM UTC
The number of noise complaints in the City of New York exceeded 750,000.
<•>
that
does not
of course
include the
shrieks and screams of the
unfriended,, unloved, overwhelmed sad l~one~lys
that have the courtesy
uncommon
to add their cries of the heart
that are best stated, sung & satiated & even sated
**ever so
s i l e n t l y**
but their trembling tears
!howl!
Mar 25, 2025
Mar 25, 2025 at 4:17 PM UTC
Nobody likes a winer,
But they all like wine.
Unfortunately every sip,
Brings out one more complaint,
Till I'm sitting with a bunch of hypocrites.
Mar 16, 2025
Mar 16, 2025 at 9:45 AM UTC
love; why are you not in hearts anymore?
feelings; do you even exist anymore?
kindness; why have you left me alone?
sadness; do you not leave me so I wont atone?
life; why do you have to be so unfair?
fate; do you have to act so cruel?
calm; why are you only there in the Chaos?
sorrow; will i ever let you go?
happiness; haven't felt you around lately...
grief; don't leave me, I've grown fond of you greatly...
tears; I'm sorry, you'll have to hide forever...
smiles; forgive me for faking you, to conceal all the terror...
eyes; please stop screaming my soul's secrets...
heart; let it all go and lets save your pieces
soul; you are there, but are you alive?
Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 6:05 PM UTC
m*any days I feel it isn't worth it
it is better I end it
I just do not fit
right
Small disappointments
unfilled expectations
make my daily lessons
I am no longer surprised
gifted with so many unused liberties
armed with many facilities
having all basic amenities
why still unsatisfied?
my thirst for what?
but compare it to so many of them
where do my problems stand
should my opinions even matter
God still has to hear my many complaints
every other day
No wonder he doesn't listen,
I wouldn't too.
Blessed with so much
wasted it all
on being this bitter self I hate
my present state draws the ugly future
and the only cure
is to feel gratitude
on the things I still have
on my conscience who still cares*.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
is a familiar phrase
we like to flaunt
especially
when we would like to utter a complaint
about contemporary grievances
god and the world & cetera
in doing so
we keep good company
from Socrates to Livius
to Shakespeare, Goethe, Emerson,
Whitman, Fitzgerald, Hurston, Vonnegut,
Morrison, Angelou, Nabokov, etc.
I guess this is because
the times like these
are always those
in which we live
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 6:44 PM UTC
I so often wish I could find a cottage garden home
and hang just the right curtains,
plant beautiful flowers
take leisurely hot, steaming baths and showers
never again leave to go work in the grind
of dealing with customers
who have seemingly lost their minds...
just give me a cottage garden home
a few books to read
where my mind can roam
and allow me the quietness and solitude
just some peace and quiet -- shhh!!!
no, I'm not trying to be rude--
it's just that all day long I hear grumbling
I hear complaints galore
and my job is such that I can't ignore
the craziness of the public tis all too true--
so I really do NEED that garden cottage home
to escape and run away to...
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 12:21 AM UTC
My good morning
was followed by a statement
In which she said "I stank."
It was the cigarette stank
That made her utter the obvious complaint.
She doesn't know my struggle.
A mind of potential
with the heart of a saint.
Yet bound by demons
And voices that say "I can't".
I wish to tell her.
How they help my mind go blank
And away from the thoughts
That are as loud as voices.
How they help me think straight sometimes
And give me the courage
To make the right choices.
It's just remnants of my fall
From when my mind
Hit rock bottom and I was unable
To make the right choices.
All of my demons, I've fought them
And this is the smoke from the battle
In which they are engulfed
In its flame.
The ending of the cant's and aint's.
The smoke from this cigarette.
So please excuse, my cigarette stank.
Oh How her complaint
Will echo through my mind
And never become faint.
I can't take this
So when I get the chance
I will light another cigarette
To forget all about this
And make me become correct.
**** I hate that
I have to smoke another cigarette.
My good afternoon
Was followed by a glare.
A glare that married women
Should never think to dare.
She could see into my soul
And knew that all isn't fair.
Her beauty was one
That I could never compare.
So right back I would stare
Until something broke my attention
And again I begin to stare.
Until I pictured her bare
And being lost in lust
Covered in each other's hair.
Her eyes were flames of a flair
Flickering off in the distance
and Shining through the night air.
I want to reach you
And see what's up with that glare
But life isn't fair.
It has lead us to where we both
Are a separate pair.
Attempts to become close
Will be followed by no's or I can't
And how our meeting was too late.
Which will be her complaint.
The agony, I can not bare
So I will let it fade away with
The smoke from this cigarette.
So please excuse, my cigarette stank.
Oh How her complaint
Will echo through my mind
And never become faint.
I can't take this
So when I get the chance
I will light another cigarette
To forget all about this
And make me become correct.
**** I hate that
I have to smoke another cigarette.
Another cigarette
Another cigarette
**** I have to smoke another cigarette.
My good evening
Was followed an expression
In which it looked like I stank.
Her face was the face
that God makes when we all sin.
Disappointment cloaked in forgiveness
And love.
She smiles as she gives me a hug.
I look at my daughter
And even with her I can feel the love.
When I'm alone I sigh.
My mind is a puzzle
And my true thoughts are shielded
with a muzzle.
So I let them fade away with
The smoke from this cigarette.
I just hope they excuse, my cigarette stank.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 12:11 PM UTC
You kept complaining
'bout those people corrupting
then afterwards you'll be saying
Money can't be brought alongside with you on the day that you die. Why are they being so corrupt?
Yet why aren't you trying to question thyself?
When in fact, you aren't any different.
Save, Save, Save
That's all you think about
Prices, Prices, Prices
I thought we were here to survive?
Money is an element for survival.
Why are you keeping every single dollar?
You always count your money as if it is your baby.
Complaints are all that I hear each day every time you pay.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 8:56 AM UTC
We are raised with society surrounding us,
yet we feel the need to distinguish,
in-group ourselves with the outliers,
to live with our anguish.
In doing so we gain some right,
believing that different makes us better,
rather than live in that ignorant shroud,
and stand together loud and proud.
What we don't understand is in our drive to survive,
and seem entirely different,
we ourselves have joined a society,
and with that we have fallen into proprieties.
Hot Topic, and the slop that is gangster,
we wear to create a wall,
between us and conforming society,
who unlike us never heard the call.
The call to greatness,
the call to art,
the call to pimping,
we all had a start.
And now we sit in our ****** homes,
(trying to) make money by day ,
thinking where we went wrong.
How did I fall out with so many opportunities,
where did I fall off the wagon?
Well kid, it happened when your pants started saggin,
when you wore the black to stick out from the white,
when you refused to try because nobody "got it",
and when you were always looking for a fight.
It's easy to put the blame on someone else,
how else can you live with such dissonance?
Maybe if you had shut up and listened,
instead of dirt you would be the one who glistened.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 2:23 PM UTC
I have work in 4 hours...
I can't fall asleep...
I spend too much money on myself...
I am oblivious to myself…
I am myself!
I am myself…
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
As the soft lulling lecture went on my eyes began to shift in a hazy closing
And my mind faded into a far off dimension
A dimension of desire
A desire to not be in this room
A room where we dissect psalms
Of rhetoric and metaphor
Calling cities women and lamenting their deterioration
And utter demise
Overstating obvious and neglecting ambiguity
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 12:27 PM UTC
Your words,
They sting.
So sharp,
But not sharp enough to pierce through,
Only to stay lodged beneath my skin.
So that every time someone brushes by,
I hurt.
Funny thing,
You care,
Like a mother should.
And yet still,
I can see you,
When you're old,
Regretting,
You're alone.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
Is this the truth?
Is this you?
Or are you trying to fit in?
All the fakes
Make me break
And lose my mind
Public misery
Expressed silently
Is this an honest plea
or desperation for sympathy
Public misery
Instead of therapy
It makes me see
We're all suffering
You're not this way
You used to say
That it would never be you
Now you're on one track
Its all an act
The truth holds you back
Public misery
Expressed silently
Is this an honest plea
or desperation for sympathy
Public misery
Instead of therapy
It makes me see
We're all suffering
Your complaints
With no restraints
Make me question your motives
Try
To realize
There's reality behind the lies
Public misery
Expressed silently
Is this an honest plea
or desperation for sympathy
Public misery
Instead of therapy
It makes me see
We're all suffering
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC