#formality
Tired, and an aching body,
I wish to go back home.
Far from this world of hate,
Into my own dome.
"Take me with you!"
I divulge my intentions to you.
Towards home, I wish to go
Where the floor is green, and my ceilings' blue.
The air is warm there,
You can see yourself in a glass.
My home is a world of my own,
Where I am tied to no leash.
'Twas an odd plea,
My journey had halted long ago.
I was pulled into this dreamless world—
Towards my home, I wish to go.
Oct 25, 2025
Oct 25, 2025 at 8:36 AM UTC
Let's just pause our friendship,
Let's just limit our talks,
And let's just play the memories spent together forever,
Let's just untangle the strings of sorrow we carry,
Let's just say it loud the guilts we keep,
Let's just stop hiding the pain and fooling ourselves,
"" OR ELSE ""
Let's just get distanced,
Let's just be the strangers which we were before,
Let's just get apart from being close friends to just friends,
Let's just fool each other and enjoy
the silence we created like that ozone layer surrounding the earth,
Let the miscommunication create misunderstanding and
Let the unspoken words be left hidden behind the spacebar of our keyboard whispering blaringly the untold stories buried in the graveyard of our dear heart,
So let's just get distanced from the formality of being just friends my dear ...
Mar 6, 2018
Mar 6, 2018 at 3:50 AM UTC
I sat there, a callow youth
Shallow, unwieldy with the truth,
And fearing to be caught in a lie
My words never gave the by
To my attempt at insouciance.
I gave away the game with my name
And hoped that my meager fame
Would decry any need to explain,
But social curiosity laid its claim
And suddenly I was the luminary
With a silly, boring past to bury.
I knew I should have been more wary.
Why was I here when it was clear
These people and I were disparate?
Was I so desperate that I needed
To risk an embarrassing removal
To seek these stranger’s approval?
Was I such a egotistical *****
I craved applause when there wasn’t any?
I knew coming here I didn’t know forks,
More accustomed to dinner with sporks,
My napkins had heretofore been disposable.
Socially my thumbs were unopposable
Yet here I sat feeling totally unacceptable.
Yet I was the intended near-inlaw,
Feeling much to be the social outlaw
Recognizing glances and non-glances
Of those who were game to taking chances
To see if I remained seated to brazen it out
Or had I, with an excuse, or better, a shout
Stood and wilted, or scuttled away theatrically
Empowering chatter for those women who natter
And seem of no matter at all to the men
So they can return again to their talk of money
And find nothing in my existence slightly funny;
Finding it necessary to ignore me all the more.
But, raised as a child of little parental concern
I could teach these paragons with so much to learn
That every individual is exactly and precisely that.
They would be wise to take their feet, tip their hat,
And effuse with gratitude, issue some platitudes
And beatitudes that I could so easily obliterate
Their tendencies to pontificate and exacerbate
Their images as characters in a humorous play.
I might receive them of that burden this day
By letting them listen to the tales I could say
Transporting them from this table to non-fables
About what it means to exist with little food.
But I spare them this education, my declarations,
Because I know they desire not any perorations
From a person of my painful lack of pedigree.
I knew I must be satisfied with the planned perigee
Of this cometary gathering, the blathering and chat,
The acceptance of the crucible of where I sat
Like the Cheshire cat, smiling as if this were fine
And my status here were not firmly on the line.
I watched my intended blanch when I said
Or did something she didn’t have in her head.
I counted, the times I was addressed unpleasantly.
I knew this romance was to terminate presently.
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 11:30 PM UTC
*Formality is exhausting but can be rewarding
No cars allowed on the street when I am passing
Brief summarization of each step on this walk
No that's what I call a toothache*
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 5:04 PM UTC
This is a poem for the inner trying to get out
For yearnings and desperation
Surrounded by cardboard furniture we sit
With silence
And serious expressions
Business-like.
Perhaps I will set down a lyric after lyric
About the clicking pen
Scribbling over paper
About due process
Convention
Eyes avoiding eyes
The building of a wall.
Our windows all have shutters now
We begin to close them
A whispered
Bridge the gap
Is stifled
Pushed away
Drowned
In proper formality
Small talk barely satisfies.
Suits,
Mr Smith,
Suits.
Let us be quirky
Oh fellow human clone of mine!
Let us dance!
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
~ The mind is a dangerous thing, at least in this reality
Thinking you can handle it, maybe in its simplest formality
~ It'll play its tricks on you, cause massive amounts of confusion
The understanding of this and that, it's all a delusion
~ The mind says you want it, maybe even need it
But reality says you can't have it, not even a little bit
~ It's one or the other, so which statement is true?
You listen to both of them, but that's nothing new
~ The mind makes the choice, to try and benefit life
But reality is the decision, and cuts like a knife
~ Wanting this, desiring that. Will I get it if I try?
The mind will say yes, but reality will still pry
~ The two turn into confusion, overwhelming ones emotions
Too much to handle, you just give up all notions
~ Wishing you could understand, what is the conclusion?
Can I achieve this? Maybe reality is the real delusion.
-Meagan Williams
1.15.13.
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 5:40 AM UTC