#grownups - Hello Poetry

All the ways that God failed us. Nothing worse than how we failed ourselves. Anger and impatience. The true cost of youth. Meaningless words. We hope someone would notice. Hormones and inexperience. Destroying what they told us. How is it we could have even believed that we began to know what to do? Who was supposed to show us? How the hell could we have been so bold that we thought we actually knew? And to make so many others suffer for our rage and our pain, the love we never got. All the beautiful things we destroyed. Every round we loaded and shot. We keep thinking that we're adults and that it's over. But it's not. It's big children in daddy skin and mommy clothes. Put a Band-Aid on my ouchie and wipe my snotty nose. Some of them take it all the way to the big boy table where they actually get their finger on the button. Can you imagine what kind of piece of **** that is? The tattletale, the little wuss, the glutton. Xi Jinping. Trump. Putin. Who do we think we're kidding? And we just give them the power, let them make the decisions that could wipe us all out ? We put our mark on a little piece of paper, call it a vote, and pretend this is what it's all about ? None of us created this path, read the fine print, or decided we would take this route. Yet here we are, stuck in somebody else's crap. No fate of our own, no real decision. Wandering around without a map. How can this be reality? How did we let things get this far? They never even look in the mirror to see who and what they really are. You're talking about idiot monsters that never even questioned their own beliefs and why they think they are the way they became. They can't see me or you for what we are, just walking wallets and we're all the same. Then you'll go out the way you came. I've always been OK being alone. But no one will face your end but you. It's how we are. It's what we do.

0

Nov 15, 2025

Nov 15, 2025 at 10:27 PM UTC

OldeMrHoover

Don't tell the kids

All the ways that God failed us. Nothing worse than how we failed ourselves. Anger and impatience. The true cost of youth. Meaningless words. We hope someone would notice. Hormones and inexperience. Destroying what they told us. How is it we could have even believed that we began to know what to do? Who was supposed to show us? How the hell could we have been so bold that we thought we actually knew? And to make so many others suffer for our rage and our pain, the love we never got. All the beautiful things we destroyed. Every round we loaded and shot. We keep thinking that we're adults and that it's over. But it's not. It's big children in daddy skin and mommy clothes. Put a Band-Aid on my ouchie and wipe my snotty nose. Some of them take it all the way to the big boy table where they actually get their finger on the button. Can you imagine what kind of piece of **** that is? The tattletale, the little wuss, the glutton. Xi Jinping. Trump. Putin. Who do we think we're kidding? And we just give them the power, let them make the decisions that could wipe us all out ? We put our mark on a little piece of paper, call it a vote, and pretend this is what it's all about ? None of us created this path, read the fine print, or decided we would take this route. Yet here we are, stuck in somebody else's crap. No fate of our own, no real decision. Wandering around without a map. How can this be reality? How did we let things get this far? They never even look in the mirror to see who and what they really are. You're talking about idiot monsters that never even questioned their own beliefs and why they think they are the way they became. They can't see me or you for what we are, just walking wallets and we're all the same. Then you'll go out the way you came. I've always been OK being alone. But no one will face your end but you. It's how we are. It's what we do.

37

There was something wrong with the adults I always thought When I was young... when I was little The Grown Ups There was something, well something missing in them They seemed a bit preoccupied, a bit faraway by times, Maybe it was the great responsibility they had, looking after us Or running after us, we used run around a lot back then, Out on the beach under the big blue sky On our way out to meet the tide The wonderful colourful houses of the village seen from afar, With the big chapel on the hill And the lovely blue mountains of the headland sloping down to the sea We'd be lost in the joy and excitement of the moment, thinking "Isn't this wonderful, isn't it amazing, this thing called Life, Wow!!!" And Mom she'd be there with us, tagging along And on her face this kind of... kind of lonesome smile There seemed to be a great sadness in them somewhere They didn't seem to have the same joy that we had Etched on their faces was something else, something haunting Days of struggle and hardship... and pain. Their own parents had died when they were very young They used tell me, tell me gravely "One day, one day we won't be here son" And you'd go off to school feeling very tearful inside Hardly able to do your lessons, mulling over those terrible words, And at night in bed, you'd listen for their voices downstairs And if you couldn't hear them, you'd get up and sit on the landing listening intently for their spoken words So as to be reassured, that they were still there, That they hadn't gone away and left you. II The adults they loved to sit and talk and drink tea We didn't like talking much, that was boring stuff (We liked the biscuits though) We wanted to be outside playing, up and about Yea! We wanted action and adventure instead Playing games, kicking football up the garden Running down the wing, shooting for goal, scoring! O! the thrill of it all, Or playing soldiers, cowboys and Indians Or down the beach among the rocks exploring Whereas we probably lived a lot still in our bodies And in the thrill of the moment (I remember I used talk to parts of my body when I was very little, when there was no one else around) The adults they seemed to live in their heads most of the time Locked away up there in their lonely towers Adults I suppose had decisions to make. Often Mom would find it hard to keep up with us We could get away with a lot of things with Mom But it was different though when Dad would come home Then the atmosphere in the house would change There'd be this strange tension The Dads they were strange ones They were like that Rodin sculpture "The Thinker" (a man bent over thinking) You'd watch them warily, and move around them very carefully and quietly You'd have to have your antenna switched on You didn't know which mood would be on them Whether they were going to be gentle or flare up like a firestorm. The Dads they used to drink beer and black stuff, the Guinness Sometimes they'd give us a sip Ugh...the taste of it, it'd give you the creeps You'd think " How do you drink that stuff and Why!!! It wasn't sweet like orange or lemonade It was another mystery, the strange world... the strange world of the adults. (Once while walking along the beach we came across this well dressed young man fast asleep behind the sea wall Lying on the cold ground, a few empty beer cans beside him Of course we didn't know yet about people getting drunk We were very puzzled at this scene, we looked at one another baffled Why did he want to sleep there for ? Did he not have a home to go to and a bed to sleep in ? What we were looking at was the World... the strange world of the adults). The Dads they were always watching the News and talking politics Once when we were on holiday down the country at our Auntie's place We were outside playing football While my Dad and Uncle were inside drinking and talking politics Arguing heatedly about who was right and who was wrong Suddenly they both appeared in the doorway, all smiles and strangely jolly like They said they wanted to join in, in our game Something they'd very rarely do I remember looking at them and thinking These people...these people are in pain I was so afraid they might fall and hurt themselves I thought them that fragile I was afraid to tackle them properly for the ball I thought I should only pretend Should let them win, let them score a goal "Maybe then," I thought, "maybe then they'd be happy". III They seemed to be always trying their best But being reined in by their limitations One Christmas I remember, I wanted things, exciting things, toy soldiers, electric cars, a toy gun They gave me this small model passenger plane, wasn't even a War plane (no fancy machine guns or rockets) And this cheap little plastic antique globe of the world thing I looked to see was there any treasure marked on it, but no! I was so disappointed, these were ****** presents, not what I wanted at all But when I looked in their faces, at the expectancy there Them expecting me to be overjoyed and delighted with what I'd got I felt this huge pity and sorrow for them, So I smiled back at them and pretended their presents, they were the best presents of all. IV There was this tragic sadness about them, the adults Almost like they weren't feeling the joy anymore, that for them the magic had gone out Like the little child within them had all but died You realized that what you were feeling was probably something they no longer felt They were off lost in some other world Overrun with cares and worries and fears Yea, there was something wrong with the adults I always thought When I was young When I was small.

0

Feb 8, 2021

Feb 8, 2021 at 5:20 PM UTC

bardo

(There's something wrong with) The Adults

There was something wrong with the adults I always thought When I was young... when I was little The Grown Ups There was something, well something missing in them They seemed a bit preoccupied, a bit faraway by times, Maybe it was the great responsibility they had, looking after us Or running after us, we used run around a lot back then, Out on the beach under the big blue sky On our way out to meet the tide The wonderful colourful houses of the village seen from afar, With the big chapel on the hill And the lovely blue mountains of the headland sloping down to the sea We'd be lost in the joy and excitement of the moment, thinking "Isn't this wonderful, isn't it amazing, this thing called Life, Wow!!!" And Mom she'd be there with us, tagging along And on her face this kind of... kind of lonesome smile There seemed to be a great sadness in them somewhere They didn't seem to have the same joy that we had Etched on their faces was something else, something haunting Days of struggle and hardship... and pain. Their own parents had died when they were very young They used tell me, tell me gravely "One day, one day we won't be here son" And you'd go off to school feeling very tearful inside Hardly able to do your lessons, mulling over those terrible words, And at night in bed, you'd listen for their voices downstairs And if you couldn't hear them, you'd get up and sit on the landing listening intently for their spoken words So as to be reassured, that they were still there, That they hadn't gone away and left you. II The adults they loved to sit and talk and drink tea We didn't like talking much, that was boring stuff (We liked the biscuits though) We wanted to be outside playing, up and about Yea! We wanted action and adventure instead Playing games, kicking football up the garden Running down the wing, shooting for goal, scoring! O! the thrill of it all, Or playing soldiers, cowboys and Indians Or down the beach among the rocks exploring Whereas we probably lived a lot still in our bodies And in the thrill of the moment (I remember I used talk to parts of my body when I was very little, when there was no one else around) The adults they seemed to live in their heads most of the time Locked away up there in their lonely towers Adults I suppose had decisions to make. Often Mom would find it hard to keep up with us We could get away with a lot of things with Mom But it was different though when Dad would come home Then the atmosphere in the house would change There'd be this strange tension The Dads they were strange ones They were like that Rodin sculpture "The Thinker" (a man bent over thinking) You'd watch them warily, and move around them very carefully and quietly You'd have to have your antenna switched on You didn't know which mood would be on them Whether they were going to be gentle or flare up like a firestorm. The Dads they used to drink beer and black stuff, the Guinness Sometimes they'd give us a sip Ugh...the taste of it, it'd give you the creeps You'd think " How do you drink that stuff and Why!!! It wasn't sweet like orange or lemonade It was another mystery, the strange world... the strange world of the adults. (Once while walking along the beach we came across this well dressed young man fast asleep behind the sea wall Lying on the cold ground, a few empty beer cans beside him Of course we didn't know yet about people getting drunk We were very puzzled at this scene, we looked at one another baffled Why did he want to sleep there for ? Did he not have a home to go to and a bed to sleep in ? What we were looking at was the World... the strange world of the adults). The Dads they were always watching the News and talking politics Once when we were on holiday down the country at our Auntie's place We were outside playing football While my Dad and Uncle were inside drinking and talking politics Arguing heatedly about who was right and who was wrong Suddenly they both appeared in the doorway, all smiles and strangely jolly like They said they wanted to join in, in our game Something they'd very rarely do I remember looking at them and thinking These people...these people are in pain I was so afraid they might fall and hurt themselves I thought them that fragile I was afraid to tackle them properly for the ball I thought I should only pretend Should let them win, let them score a goal "Maybe then," I thought, "maybe then they'd be happy". III They seemed to be always trying their best But being reined in by their limitations One Christmas I remember, I wanted things, exciting things, toy soldiers, electric cars, a toy gun They gave me this small model passenger plane, wasn't even a War plane (no fancy machine guns or rockets) And this cheap little plastic antique globe of the world thing I looked to see was there any treasure marked on it, but no! I was so disappointed, these were ****** presents, not what I wanted at all But when I looked in their faces, at the expectancy there Them expecting me to be overjoyed and delighted with what I'd got I felt this huge pity and sorrow for them, So I smiled back at them and pretended their presents, they were the best presents of all. IV There was this tragic sadness about them, the adults Almost like they weren't feeling the joy anymore, that for them the magic had gone out Like the little child within them had all but died You realized that what you were feeling was probably something they no longer felt They were off lost in some other world Overrun with cares and worries and fears Yea, there was something wrong with the adults I always thought When I was young When I was small.

108

There is no such thing as adulting There is no such thing as growing up Biological age cannot be an indicator A source of income cannot be a dictator The drama that disguises you as a sufferer is apt for twitter and synonymous with tumblr You can look like 50 but still behave like a toddler Age, intellect , experience and memory don’t matter Clarity of thought , clarity in action is what everyone wants, just pay attention Stages of life are only byproducts of imagination

0

Jan 21, 2019

Jan 21, 2019 at 11:34 AM UTC

clarityaboutnothing

Adulting

There is no such thing as adulting There is no such thing as growing up Biological age cannot be an indicator A source of income cannot be a dictator The drama that disguises you as a sufferer is apt for twitter and synonymous with tumblr You can look like 50 but still behave like a toddler Age, intellect , experience and memory don’t matter Clarity of thought , clarity in action is what everyone wants, just pay attention Stages of life are only byproducts of imagination

11

I used to love jumping in puddles, Not a care in the world. I'd splash as big as I could. Now I avoid them Because, well, that's what grown-ups do.

0

May 31, 2017

May 31, 2017 at 6:43 PM UTC

a-psalmist

Puddle Lover

I used to love jumping in puddles, Not a care in the world. I'd splash as big as I could. Now I avoid them Because, well, that's what grown-ups do.

5

Most persons who are ageable - aren't even adults They are just grown children Who have learnt fancier words more serious sounding expressions And new ways of secret tantrums. Those imposters. Caught ya. Spider one. Grownchildren zero.

0

Nov 10, 2015

Nov 10, 2015 at 10:23 AM UTC

tahirih-boodhoo

Grown up

Most persons who are ageable - aren't even adults They are just grown children Who have learnt fancier words more serious sounding expressions And new ways of secret tantrums. Those imposters. Caught ya. Spider one. Grownchildren zero.

13

No one ever taught you how to grow up the simplest things like which fork to use when you are dining with her parents for the first time or how to change the fire alarms So when you sit down for dinner you use the desert fork for the salad and wonder why you got yourself into this mess in the first place and when your house goes up in flames you scream to the sky, you burn down with it.

0

Mar 26, 2015

Mar 26, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC

keah-rose

Classes in Growing Up

No one ever taught you how to grow up the simplest things like which fork to use when you are dining with her parents for the first time or how to change the fire alarms So when you sit down for dinner you use the desert fork for the salad and wonder why you got yourself into this mess in the first place and when your house goes up in flames you scream to the sky, you burn down with it.

5