#eccentric
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>user uploads a poem:
Tell those you love they are loved. Make sure they know they are loved. Do good. Be good. You can. That's all the world needs. That's what everybody needs.
>tags it goodbye
>notes: my last
>12 views
>last online:
12 years ago
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 1:51 PM UTC
Ivory lad,
Ivy grad;
Tell me,
Why is it that you're so slow?
Behind the times,
Stuck where
Even your parents have outgrown.
What eccentric lessons,
What bombastic professors!
To say it is one school
Would be an insult
To the whole of the institutions'
Asserted goals & aspirations.
It would be a disservice
To their alumni,
The attendees,
And those to be admitted.
Prattle off your dissertations,
I'm genuinely interested
To hear of your perspective,
But I won't hold my breath
So keep the air honest
Lest you share a foul stench
Like dioxide so sulfurous.
What hand is up your ***
To puppet the controls as so?
What stick has been stuck
Through your rear-end
Which parades you around on?
What pike has been found
Deep in your bowels
Rendering detachment & disembodiment?
From which war & what battle
Do you think you're taking part of?
Which side & which force
Do you swear allegiance?
What little league team,
What playground do you call home?
What duel with duality,
What fight with nature!
It would be entertaining
If they had only stuck to playing in the mud.
Feb 10, 2025
Feb 10, 2025 at 1:29 PM UTC
James Joyce sleeping in bed, next to me. He snores almost as a whisper. I don't bother to shake him. I can sleep and he has been through enough the eccentric that he may be. Write. All else is meaningless. That part is somewhat fiction though. We know that from our own depraved eccentric lows and bottoms. Sleep. You will make it right in the morning. It is dark, it is time my friend.
Feb 1, 2025
Feb 1, 2025 at 2:20 AM UTC
Some people remind me of a campfire,
a source of eclectic senses:
the smoky wood,
the evolutionary fascination of the flame,
the warmth and chill of a starry night.
Others remind me of a snow day in grade school,
a source of jittery incongruence:
the sprinkles of white,
the disruption of monotonous school work,
the mischief of nature coming to the rescue.
You remind me of an early morning rain,
a source of calm melancholy:
the soft droplets on leaves,
the lessened saturation from the overcast,
the heightened realization and contentment of one's existence.
The essence of people
epitomized as scenes and collective experiences;
it is not so much of what it is
but rather how it makes you feel.
Apr 12, 2024
Apr 12, 2024 at 6:36 PM UTC
I am a little bit different
Do things my own way
I would rather be weird than boring
Don't care what others may say
Jun 7, 2022
Jun 7, 2022 at 7:40 AM UTC
Lately, it been hard for me to unwind
All my emotions are twisted in a bind
Losing my head to the war
that's going on in my mind
All I feel like I'm doing
is wasting away my time
On the grind, I gotta remain. Touch from Pain.
I need a sign. No dollar signs.
Yes, my boy is living it up!
Thanks! He's more than just fine!
If I take a ********* out, then why is that a crime?
Monsters sin more than Satan on a Sunday
Justice systems always misconstrue
What we say!
Everybody wants a change, I'm a bit insane.
These lower beings don't deserve lives.
The truth can'hurt us like a *****
Shoot. Ha. It will cut you down to size!
While you're trying to figure why?
I'll wait... now please, show me, where did I lie?
****
Which side you play yo part,
standard-ass boy, do you even ride?
They want us to discriminate and to divide
Eyes in the sky, watching us on the rise
You can't **** my high...
You will never, take away what is mine!
This is than just a vibe,
this is more than just my pride!
Live by my words, every part of me
speaks and lives in these lines!
Eye for eye, ain't enough.
When the difficulty is do or die.
I'm cool as fire, yo
just let the ******** slide
Cause at the end of the day,
it's all keeping me alive!
_[Chorus]
World on my shoulders
but I'll keep my head up
Promise everyone will
See See See See
World on my shoulders
but I'll keep my head up
Promise everyone will
See See See See....._
Feb 15, 2022
Feb 15, 2022 at 12:09 AM UTC
A million words, a million thoughts,
We've all been here writing till the end of time.
What new ones may have been brought?
It's all I can think of, did something happen?
Am I still original or am I out of line?
"Soon-to-be-victorious" you start the song,
A dirge of memories past, till the very last.
The rhythm sounds like 'other time folk music,'
Played to an organ-like effect,
I guess you would be able to out-do my
Eccentric best.
Keep playing that well worn traditional back-days song!
You know I was here to **** you down all along...
Jun 13, 2020
Jun 13, 2020 at 9:19 PM UTC
The Owls are Watching
In memory of Helen Martins
'The Owl House'
Nieu Bethesda, South Africa
In sculpture and rock rested your art
Cement faces that speak volumes
Of emotions and tales untold
As mysterious as your life itself
Glittering walls of crushed glass
That shone by candlelight
Outside of art you were branded
Though remembered as unique and ahead of your time
With big glass eyes the owls watch the world
What was once your sanctuary
Now a showcase to the world
Recognized at last
Unspeakable loneliness of a soul misunderstood
Now your handwritten letters are framed and displayed for all to read
But you don't mind the curiosity of mankind
With cement hands raised to the heavens facing the east
You drank your chosen cup
Your Mecca now complete
_____
Written by Sean Achilleos
28 March 2016©
_____
How this poem came about:
I was a visitor to the Owl House Nieu-Bethesda South Africa in 2015. Approximately, one year later I was inspired to write a poem about the late great Helen Martins. I was intrigued by the eccentricity of this woman.
One evening while in my living room and enjoying a glass of wine, my eye caught the cement owl in my windowsill which I had purchased outside the Owl House from a vendor. I saw its big blue glass eyes glaring at me. At the time I was listening to a Jennifer Ferguson record, and decided to write while the music was playing. Once I had completed the poem I felt exhausted. Then a very strange phenomena occurred, the lights went off for a few seconds and came back on, unlike a power surge. It reoccurred a second time that same evening, and never since. It felt like a supernatural intervention. As far fetched as it may sound, it seemed like Mrs. Martins had personally given her approval of the poem. I then decided to email it to the official Owl House website. I didn't think much would come of it. However, they embraced the poem and were generous enough to display it on their official Website for a number of years under a section titled "A Visitor's Perspective".
https://g.co/kgs/BPyx1U
Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 7:58 AM UTC
No.
That’s all i need to say to make something stop
Why care for the things that once mattered in the past
When the ones that mattered in the past didn’t come to last
Honestly, it ***** to ****
We live this life with no breaks nor shortcuts
Suicide is simply an illogical solution
Doing so would diminish my own resolution
I’m growing tired and brittle
I may not be old but i’m hollow
No, not to be edgy in any matter
I wouldn’t care if you went and bantar
If you view me having the lack to emotion
Somewhat of a form of entertainment
I wouldn’t blame you
I invite you to do it
Know that I’ll give no reinvigoration
For your own amusement.
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 12:26 PM UTC
Thud-thud-thud thud thud-thud
Me and my silver owl glasses
And the silver car with the broken hood from when I ram ram
Ramed into the light grey garage and the pale
Blue fire hydrant
And now it goes thud-thud-thud
Thud thud-thud
And me and my owl glasses
Squint up at the sky while the car goes thud-thud
Thud thud-thud
And my skin basking in the sun’s glow,
Rudolph’s luck it was only his nose!
And with a little jingle,
Time to take the baked potato out
Bright red and ready to peel,
Leaving behind an ugly little thing,
In her silver owl glasses and thud-thud silver
Car
With the dented hood
Dec 10, 2019
Dec 10, 2019 at 6:19 PM UTC
Him: She looked different, I hadn’t seen her face this bright in a really long time. In that moment she was the moon, the star, a luminous soul that stood before my eyes. She was like confetti, leaving sparkles where she stepped. It wasn’t like the happiness she plastered on her face or the smile that made dimples appear on the ends of her lips. This was different. I could feel the energy.
Her cheeks swallowed her eyes whole and those hidden teeth behind her lips were exposed. It was just everything about her, how her voice was powerful and high-pitched just like a youngster. The way her pupils dilated and showed all her excitement. The way her soul radiated excitement and joy. It was everything about her, the way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she laughed. Happiness made her feel like she could do anything. Happiness was more than just beautiful on her. It was luminous and powerful.
Her: This happiness felt ineffable. It was more than just a star lighting up in the dark, it was more than the darkness fading away. It wasn’t the happiness that is supposed to be picture perfect or the commercially perfect of having pearly white teeth. It was the one that my soul roar and bursting away from the confinement. It was the happiness that made adrenaline rush through my veins and neurons spark every cell of mine. It was the happiness that made me not care about what others thought, whether I was too much or over-excited. I was happy, I was more than happy after a very long time. It didn’t matter to me. I felt fierce. I felt like a child. I felt everything beautiful and powerful. I didn’t want to lose it to others words or to anything in this world. I was going to protect it, guard it and hold on to it. I was going to shine and radiate.
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 11:54 AM UTC
A long time ago
A time quite known
There was a man
Who was seeking the truth
Who's wish was to understand
The path drawn by the hand
The way of the wandering
He wished
Hence his truth
Stained
Circles he thought
Was what the hand would draw
All wandering quite agreed
But one did not
He was defiant
Back he went
Forth later
Lunacy was inherent
The way he tread
The hand the man doubted
Had but made a mistake
A mistake
Or just a perspective
Shall remain unknown
A circle
Eccentric
Was defined
Two centers
It had
Perplexed our man
Circles he thought
Defined perfection
Had it not been this wanderer
Who chose to defy
Our man
He would have been kept
Away
From the truth
The truth
That eccentric
Are the paths
That all who wander
Follow
Its only the perspective
That defines the lunacy
The eccentricity
The path of the wanderer.
The hand
Could have made a mistake
But who knows
He too might have been
Eccentric
At least a little bit.
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 1:06 AM UTC
When I am old I will say what I think
And not worry to be thought a clown or a fool.
When I am old I will borrow from youth
As guiltlessly as a child robs the cookie jar.
When I am old I will throw away fashion
And dress myself solely in comfort as I please.
When I am old I will share anger I feel
Instead of letting it take bites out of my soul.
When I am old I will walk away quickly
From those who’s motives I find to be suspect.
When I am old I will sleep in my chair
And have picnics on my bed if I so choose.
When I am old I will go to the places
That in youth I deemed not appropriate.
When I am old I will will buy stuff that sparkles
Simply because I like shiny things.
When I am old I will sing when I feel it
And not fret that my voice isn’t pretty.
When I am old I will pet everyone’s puppies
And laugh as they lick all over my face.
When I am old I will stop tearing up like a fool
When parade marching bands with their banners go by.
When I am old I will be sprung from this prison
Referred to as rational adult behavior.
When I am old.
Yes, when I am old.
ljm
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 11:17 AM UTC
Forgive me...
I have "spoken wrong" again, been unjust with my words
Forgive me...
I have been eccentric, I haven't followed your personal ideals
Forgive me...
I am on a path to the other side, I am drinking
this "poison" down, it will be my own "undoing"
Forgive me...
Somehow these activities have been the grease
which lubricate the "devils wheels"
Forgive me...
I am underneath all "normalcy," I have seen things
that the children "should not ever see"
Forgive me...
There is a path I have tread upon that bares your mark,
I didn't see the mark before hand but "knew better"
Forgive me...
You are the one! You will show me the way, I am yours
to ****** upon all knowledge both right and wrong
Forgive me...
I will always be in your shadow, I am poor but still
I have "spoiled myself" with work that is lesser
~You will never say two simple words,
they are beyond your comprehension~
~You the "mature," "wise" old one with years of
learning and "pure" precision~
~I am always in your debt, you never need me,
I alone make the untrusted decision~
The two words you would never say are simple:
~I'm Sorry~
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 1:04 AM UTC
(10wx3)
Ocean plays,
pokes the shore,
waves' bubbly edges
bashing,
lapping,
seducing,
making love,
calmly,
violently...
sand and rocks,
both subservient...
ocean...fondles shore with
masochistic caresses,
consummating...eccentric
love affair...
Sally
Copyright February 7, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 9:40 AM UTC
i've never fit the standard
i've always been quite odd
and while i know that makes me different
i'm not necessarily flawed
because it's always for the wrong things
that the world tends to applaud
though i swear it's not intentional
i've never been conventional
my behaviors have no pattern
my colors have no scheme
when i'm asleep i'm thinking
and when i'm awake i dream
while the rest are all so silent
something inside me screams
i'm more than three-dimensional
i've never been conventional
you may find me confusing
you may not like me very well
that's something i understand
i'm a hot pink among pastels
still i think, no i believe
that eccentricities propel
the reason i'm ascensional is
i've never been conventional
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 8:43 PM UTC