Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
#dissatisfaction
Suddenly, I’m craving the rumbling of the thunder. I’m reaching. Suddenly, I’m hungry. I’m having some muffins filled with chocolate chips. They made me full, but it was unsatisfactory. I sat on the pew, then I got on my knees, awaiting emancipation until I could finally breathe. I’ve drawn my kin. They’re sewn from within. They mix like cream in the dark of the coffee brewed in the chalice of sin. I’m improving, but not at the pace I thought I would. Yet I’m lost in the race. I proved that I’d rather sleep in the monster’s embrace, waiting for the longest exhale I could take when my brain finally stops craving the rumbling of the thunder, lost in the pain, awaiting the most beautiful sunny day after the rain. So tell me? Am I insane
0
Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 1:16 PM UTC
Insane
The faucet is open all the way, water roaring into his bottle. He twists it again, harder, though it can’t give more. He’s talking, laughing, but his hand keeps turning, wanting more flow, faster filling, an impossible hurry. It doesn’t matter how much he gets, or how quickly. He’ll always crave a fuller rush, a flood that never satisfies.
0
Oct 9, 2025
Oct 9, 2025 at 6:38 PM UTC
Never Full
Tick-Tock—Tick-Tock–Tick-T- halcyonic days: The Vile Days i Seethed and gnashed my teeth at a willow tree today i Seethed and gnashed and paced until i was sick my bile covers the widow seal The lavender curtains are now stained chartreuse i hate lavender Tick-Tock–Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock Tick-Tock-Tick-Toc- salubrious days: The Abominable Days i searched for my nicest boots today It did not take long - everything has been organized three times over i smashed four white and purple columbines They squelched and bled on my boots i hate columbines Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock Ti- i Burnt My House Down Today It was made of willow tree i smashed the clock first of course Then i dipped the defiled curtains in gasoline and set them on fire i hate lavender i hate willows i returned to my -home- today It - was there waving and mocking me my Blood was boiling as i stared vehemently It took notice and mocked me harder fluttering its arms in the wind i left i returned with Kerosene i found a door today under the willow ashes and opened it Inside was but another door: no a cage A bird was inside - beautiful with many vibrant colors- i gently picked up the cage and, with ever-so-soft fingers delicately opened the golden cage door Viscously i jammed my hand inside Then i wrung Its’ neck
0
Oct 26, 2023
Oct 26, 2023 at 11:14 PM UTC
Apropos Desolation
A boss claims to be caring, but he is a child -- that always wants more.
0
Apr 22, 2022
Apr 22, 2022 at 3:18 AM UTC
[ A boss claims to be ]
aside from my asides and internal divides I stand in my prime, converging with the divine plucking daisies in my backyard doing backflips in my backyard tired of trying to find gold in a scrapyard denied due to pride and internal divides he stands in his shame, colliding with the divine doing abstract art and failing to put a finger on the very thing converging all along the growth not seen, he daydreams but can never put it into action stagnant dissatisfaction
0
Aug 26, 2021
Aug 26, 2021 at 9:22 AM UTC
stagnant dissatisfaction
Hello again nagging dissatisfaction diminish me again corrupt everything with your whispers of truth.
0
Jan 9, 2021
Jan 9, 2021 at 8:47 AM UTC
whispers
The deeper the dreamer The more dramatic The dream Go back to sleep Chaotic scene Royal gardeners Fertilizing passions Snakes of a fruit Angelic reactions Intoxicating pleasures Resolving dissatisfactions A collective conscience In poetic fashion It was good And dreamt Into Dream reality For us Slumber on!
0
Nov 5, 2020
Nov 5, 2020 at 5:55 AM UTC
Genesis
Loneliness was never an emotion for me. It was more of... a state of being. Family was always a disappointment, friends were none existent, and what’s a stranger gonna do? I never lived in a life where I felt anything besides lonely that is... until I met you. You were a rose that couldn’t see the beauty of it’s petals, I guess we were alike in that since, because in your eyes I was the perfect women, where in my eyes I was a waste of space. We spent days, weeks, even months together. I grew to love you and you? You learned that two people could be lonely together. But as my life shows, everything is temporary. And the words “I love you” where just a distant memory.
0
Aug 8, 2020
Aug 8, 2020 at 2:02 AM UTC
Lonely
Where I am                 Where I stand                 Dissatisfaction,                 My daily song.                 Dissatisfaction,                 My present emotion.                 I am no longer burning with passion                 I long for more beauty                 The vanity I seek,                 What a fair one I know.                 My latest predicament,                 A longing for better times.                 I crave for something better                 I want a new flame                 In this spring of discontent                A float of an invisible,                Yet having springs of a vague tomorrow.
0
Jun 7, 2020
Jun 7, 2020 at 9:16 AM UTC
A Dirge To My Dissatisfaction
Here, Here I am. I’ve always wanted to be Here. But not for long. Talent is relative, And mine is falling. So I’ll be sent back, Into confused arms. They will welcome the love, Though they will not understand it. Why am I there? Why am I not here? I will try to fit in. Return to my group of youth, Look to find it and see it gone, Remnants scattered everywhere I can see. I will look for open arms, That closed for me a long time ago. And once I am alone again, Which way will my mind go? Wandering through mixed messages, Solace will be found, Buried, In greying memories of me there, Until they become memories of me here. And then I will repeat my cycle, My human cycle of dissatisfaction. For what you miss there, You will miss here.
0
Mar 25, 2020
Mar 25, 2020 at 12:25 AM UTC
Dissatisfaction
I often find myself Stranded in the forgotten past, searching for another way. Send my apologies, to those that wait for me. Tell them my heart and soul have separated. Now I'm trekking on foot through the burning sand. I am searching for tomorrow through the lens of my past, time has now disappeared it must be waiting on the other side. Watching me lose myself As I drown in my dissatisfaction. All I know for now is that, I'll escape my regrets some way but not this time, not today.
0
Aug 29, 2019
Aug 29, 2019 at 8:18 PM UTC
Escape
Being with u still not having you.
0
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 11:07 AM UTC
Crushed
It was a beautiful moment Of dissatisfaction. One where she realized Complacency Does not equate With serenity. That stagnancy Does not yield joy. So she moved, Not only her feet. She moved mountains. The earth quaked beneath her, And flowers bloomed In every crack. And this, She thought, THIS is how it feels To be alive
0
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 1:24 PM UTC
Alive
Life's simple illusion it's too real the simple love is just my delusion but your charisma, it's a steal I don't expect much from a long overdue love letter I wanted to be yours It felt I belonged to you the way I wore your sweater sacrificed it all and got on all fours dissatisfaction you don't need me anymore but you still have your attraction I don't understand, what for? You were the man I wanted to marry There's my downfall, my simple delusion due to disorder, you grew wary So, here's our conclusion in your arms, safe from the rest of the world your eyes were the deepest abyss into your soul so perfect, now it's just apart of my dreamworld so full of self-control But it's far too late for a love letter.
0
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 2:29 AM UTC
Far too late
Check in impatiently hauling light luggage - downturned eyes, bundled fifties, skull packed with sickly sugarplum notions Stiff key-card door and three hanger closet - leave your mittens, jacket, and conscience dangling Towels cotton-knit sandpaper no softer than well-trafficked threadbare tawny-port carpet and your hands and feet pretend not to feel it nervously, a bit numbly, you notice her standing with glacial stillness moments away from the foot of the bed Two crooked lampshades and dim headboard lights close their eyes when the mattress springs first compress, the air tingling with dustbunny snowflakes This room is too dark now, something like snowblind, but you don't really want to see do you? Frostbite when she touches you and somehow this bed is more welcoming than your own you'll remember her february fingertips and hailstone hair, a sensation of northerly winds strange how heavy the comforter feels sprawled across your skin you envision an ice slab, see it suffocate a slow-flowing river, and your breath quickens if only because your lungs have been crushed then, just before hypothermia, she leaves, lights off, wallet lighter, you stay whiteknuckled, lightheaded, half-consumed by a snowdrift, beneath the duvet - dazed your tongue sits confused, having asked for peppermints and been given ice cubes instead and when you finally rise, and thaw your limbs and try not the slip on the black ice she always leaves by the door, Try to forget you paid hourly rates and shed your clothes that you might find warmpth in a blizzard
0
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 6:29 PM UTC
House of the Never Setting Sun
Check in impatiently hauling light luggage - downturned eyes, bundled fifties, skull packed with sickly sugarplum notions Stiff key-card door and three hanger closet - leave your mittens, jacket, and conscience dangling Towels cotton-knit sandpaper no softer than well-trafficked threadbare tawny-port carpet and your hands and feet pretend not to feel it nervously, a bit numbly, you notice her standing with glacial stillness moments away from the foot of the bed Two crooked lampshades and dim headboard lights close their eyes when the mattress springs first compress, the air tingling with dustbunny snowflakes This room is too dark now, something like snowblind, but you don't really want to see do you? Frostbite when she touches you and somehow this bed is more welcoming than your own you'll remember her february fingertips and hailstone hair, a sensation of northerly winds strange how heavy the comforter feels sprawled across your skin you envision an ice slab, see it suffocate a slow-flowing river, and your breath quickens if only because your lungs have been crushed then, just before hypothermia, she leaves, lights off, wallet lighter, you stay whiteknuckled, lightheaded, half-consumed by a snowdrift, beneath the duvet - dazed your tongue sits confused, having asked for peppermints and been given ice cubes instead and when you finally rise, and thaw your limbs and try not the slip on the black ice she always leaves by the door, Try to forget you paid hourly rates and shed your clothes that you might find warmpth in a blizzard
Continue reading...
72
Dissatisfaction sits begrudgingly in the pit of my stomach and continues to remind me of all the things all the things I have strive for and missed every ball I dropped every **** boy I kissed Dissatisfaction makes a hideaway in my being burrows in deep and starts to clinging and I try to cover it up for people because it's not worth seeing but you can believe it I'm a human being in this life but where is the meaning I've got all this pinned up strife & the insides of my mind could use a deep cleaning The whereabouts of my breakthrough is unknown if it even exists maybe if I just speak it enough into existence it'll be fixed I suppose only God knows but I'm not so sure if he hears my woes Dissatisfaction is taking over it's laying claim to my brain it's settling into my pores and I just want to stay sane
0
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 3:03 PM UTC
Dissatisfaction
A mask is something we wear to hide our real selves. Some of us wear our masks all the time while others don’t even realize they have masks at all. Her mask is the epitomy of wealth and prosperity... so why are you on food stamps? Her mask drives a bmw.....is that why you can’t make your car payments? Her mask buys fivoluous **** that she’ll never use...is that why you overdraw your bank accounts? Her mask is a lie she’s lived her entire life....is that why you wasted all your money? Her face tells the real story...your irresponsible, self-serving, with an insatiable appetite for anything that you can’t have. A mask helps you pretend to be someone your not. But the thing about masks is... They all have to come off eventually.
0
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 4:21 PM UTC
A mask with two faces
(i want it so bad, but, baby) (i need it so badly, too) Love sweet nothings turn to syrup. I can't hear the wind through window. The ants love me, want me for food. Tell me how: how is that not you? You're right, it's nice getting something for nothing. Let me tell you right now: In my age I've learned to love a better way. No free sample Lifetime return Free exchange That's the way, the buy sell trade.
0
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 3:15 PM UTC
Grievances - Buy Sell Trade
The greatest thing in life I've ever heard Is when you said to me it doesn't hurt to take the chances life throws your way Now however, I have found my self surrounded by stones in the city Life refused to give me the chances I want to keep so I keep running away to hide from everything I don't like where I am right here right now I took the wrong turn on my way up Please stop telling me this is for me I didn't even know who I would be One minute I was there The next minute I'm here between here and there I think I've lost everything. Correct me if I'm wrong but was this a dream? I saw a shadow pass up the stream Her torch was burning bright like the Eternal flame She said "come this way a better life awaits" But like all the shadows her words were weightless And the flames became stone-like and lightless.
0
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 12:30 PM UTC
City of Chances
How is it possible to love that which I hate so much. What sort of mind-warp enables me To seethe one moment and smile the next. What eraser clears the blackboard of my anger So an hour from now it’s empty and All ready to be scrawled across again. I don’t understand why I settle for moments When what I really want is a lifetime. To be the yang to an extraordinary yin Instead of mama chicken shepherding her brood of one. Why am I above the ground when who I am Was murdered years ago. Aren’t the dead supposed to be interred? Am I a zombie of neglect and co-dependence Hulking, blind of eye and blank of soul, Across an aching painscape. ljm
0
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 10:41 AM UTC
ONE MORE TIME DOWN THE SAME OLD ROAD
Life, as it presents itself, is pretty straightforward. School-work-family-grandkids-retirement. It's all laid out for us like clothes on the bed when we are kids: "This is how your life is going to be." And we watch Disney and see all these people that have adventures And lives that aren't normal by any stretch of the word And somehow we're expected to still have normal expectations of how Our lives are going to play out. Well, I'm sorry, world, but I have a longing to be better. It's a cookie dough mix made out of both 1. Longing for recognition, 2. Wanting genuine friends, And 3. Wanting to be valuable to someone. Its a want to be wanted, Like the characters in TV shows that get kidnapped and told "You have a specific skillset that we need" By a man in a black suit with a grave expression. Wouldn't that just feel great? Like FINALLY Someone thinks that I'm important, necessary, talented, special, DIFFERENT. It's my greatest fear, the fear of living 9-to-5 Going to work, day after day, Sliding the project in the inbox, leaving to grab a drink and watch some Netflix alone before bed, then Doing it all again. Even if I wasn't alone, if I had family Wouldn't that get dreary? Like, Take the kids to school, go to work, pick them up, go home. Day after day until they grow up and are gone and I retire and then What? What was the whole point? I need something bigger//something transcendent I need a purpose or a goal or a mission I need someone to tell me, okay, we need you because _________ And then I need to feel the thrill of the moment, the thrill of doing Something I'm inherently good at. Is it just me or Am I the only one dissatisfied with life as it presents itself?
0
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 2:49 PM UTC
Life, As it Presents Itself
Life, as it presents itself, is pretty straightforward. School-work-family-grandkids-retirement. It's all laid out for us like clothes on the bed when we are kids: "This is how your life is going to be." And we watch Disney and see all these people that have adventures And lives that aren't normal by any stretch of the word And somehow we're expected to still have normal expectations of how Our lives are going to play out. Well, I'm sorry, world, but I have a longing to be better. It's a cookie dough mix made out of both 1. Longing for recognition, 2. Wanting genuine friends, And 3. Wanting to be valuable to someone. Its a want to be wanted, Like the characters in TV shows that get kidnapped and told "You have a specific skillset that we need" By a man in a black suit with a grave expression. Wouldn't that just feel great? Like FINALLY Someone thinks that I'm important, necessary, talented, special, DIFFERENT. It's my greatest fear, the fear of living 9-to-5 Going to work, day after day, Sliding the project in the inbox, leaving to grab a drink and watch some Netflix alone before bed, then Doing it all again. Even if I wasn't alone, if I had family Wouldn't that get dreary? Like, Take the kids to school, go to work, pick them up, go home. Day after day until they grow up and are gone and I retire and then What? What was the whole point? I need something bigger//something transcendent I need a purpose or a goal or a mission I need someone to tell me, okay, we need you because _________ And then I need to feel the thrill of the moment, the thrill of doing Something I'm inherently good at. Is it just me or Am I the only one dissatisfied with life as it presents itself?
Continue reading...
34
What is this? What arrogance to be dissatisfied with bliss What am I? That I find myself like a Danish price contemplating molecular physics If there could be but one thing through which I could reach from the tips of my toes to the ends of my ariels let it speak to me now or remain forever ephemeral Tempt me not with silence nor sentient reflection let me sit idle while a host of doubts with carousing inflections rend peace from the oath used to praise your perfection the redoubt of certainty a false satisfaction but I will seek it no less, lest my own moral code on the floor lie here prone Be still Who are you to challenge me? My own self? HA! You are nothing less than a vaporous belch, repudiation of the shelf from which this retched book of life was wrenched No the end for you can come not too soon unless it be for that which you are A cankerous man ***** feeding on the life that was not given but taken from others AND from yourself I know not you Unless I do Unless I do For all that was, is and was, was mirage Smoke to the mirrors, dust in the sunshine caught by the exhaled breath of nothingness Cancer in the heart or lung make no difference to the boatman BEGONE Waste not my time with salutations nor grave maunderings on that which could have been nor with pleasantries and optimism I have no use for these baubles of ego BEGONE I SAID What would you be without meat to shrine that temple of mind? A magician? A sorcerer? Some glorified seamstress of witty offal set to ram fill mouths of the bantering rabble NO! I shall not cowtow to the nicetities of your excess, nor of mine Our colours are grey NOT black and white we shall drown beneath stone until resurrection day and even then we shall rot in our graves for there IS NO GOAD not to man, beast or rock NO GOAD that science shall not uncover, no lack that in wondrous doubt we shall **** to deny the self-evident fact that we are nothing and everything combined in one shell decomposing rapidly, a death knell for the self is the salutary cry for the immobile stone laid on my brow for the rustling tree for the wild fox and the mutated accessories to our loneliness they shall be freed and they shall feast upon our corpses and not a day too soon and not a day too soon so sayeth the bard from his everlasting gloom.
0
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 3:16 AM UTC
The Bard
What is this? What arrogance to be dissatisfied with bliss What am I? That I find myself like a Danish price contemplating molecular physics If there could be but one thing through which I could reach from the tips of my toes to the ends of my ariels let it speak to me now or remain forever ephemeral Tempt me not with silence nor sentient reflection let me sit idle while a host of doubts with carousing inflections rend peace from the oath used to praise your perfection the redoubt of certainty a false satisfaction but I will seek it no less, lest my own moral code on the floor lie here prone Be still Who are you to challenge me? My own self? HA! You are nothing less than a vaporous belch, repudiation of the shelf from which this retched book of life was wrenched No the end for you can come not too soon unless it be for that which you are A cankerous man ***** feeding on the life that was not given but taken from others AND from yourself I know not you Unless I do Unless I do For all that was, is and was, was mirage Smoke to the mirrors, dust in the sunshine caught by the exhaled breath of nothingness Cancer in the heart or lung make no difference to the boatman BEGONE Waste not my time with salutations nor grave maunderings on that which could have been nor with pleasantries and optimism I have no use for these baubles of ego BEGONE I SAID What would you be without meat to shrine that temple of mind? A magician? A sorcerer? Some glorified seamstress of witty offal set to ram fill mouths of the bantering rabble NO! I shall not cowtow to the nicetities of your excess, nor of mine Our colours are grey NOT black and white we shall drown beneath stone until resurrection day and even then we shall rot in our graves for there IS NO GOAD not to man, beast or rock NO GOAD that science shall not uncover, no lack that in wondrous doubt we shall **** to deny the self-evident fact that we are nothing and everything combined in one shell decomposing rapidly, a death knell for the self is the salutary cry for the immobile stone laid on my brow for the rustling tree for the wild fox and the mutated accessories to our loneliness they shall be freed and they shall feast upon our corpses and not a day too soon and not a day too soon so sayeth the bard from his everlasting gloom.
Continue reading...
60