#nonsensical
For the longest time sadness lived with us. It was necessary for happiness. For the longest time what we wanted was happiness and that could be found in things that made us happy. So chase your dreams and chase happy moments.
Live with what keeps u happy, moving forward and hoping for a better tomorrow. For the darkness doesn't know of warmth. So find happiness in the brightest of places.
Focus on the good not the bad. Thats how happiness is found, so focus on what u have now, not what could be. For time is but a moment.
And what's lost cant be found, time is fair that way for all.
Mar 5, 2025
Mar 5, 2025 at 4:49 PM UTC
More for me, more for you
More for us, more ado
This I can't help, the fire within
I try to say nay but nay it is to kin
This music in my soul, it needs a singing bowl
This freedom in my lips, it needs a tap O drips
These winds of thy awry
They rip & shred & die
The howls of the one remain
They leave their ****** stain
Non-sensical words amok
Non-sensical days tick tock
Feb 8, 2025
Feb 8, 2025 at 6:01 AM UTC
Broken not spoken. Injured not healing for what have we done? This garden of ours where we wind away the hours amongst the roses has all but gone - for the world is broken, damaged and beyond repair as we all sit in our lair, of consumerism and capital divide.
Why can we not live as one? Instead we resort to bombs, collateral damage without any thought, for this war is never won. Oh COVID what have you done? You came along at the worse time a clear year for many without fear - now that has all but gone, the instigation of fear you bought with you that runs deep. Creating dividends that divide and not untie.
For the world is broken. Damaged and makes no sense. Did we ever learn to heal or does the war that has been raging still go on?
Now what have we done? Damaged you beyond belief and yet as we go one, no turning back to previous life. Instead earth you are punishing us. For damaging you throughout humankinds existent. But don't worry,
we created a broken world.
Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 6:08 PM UTC
There once was a poet who moved
With words as a crutch, through the days
He knew where to get a new one
To support him through life, always.
But the time came that he was lost
In a forest, hungry and tired
He couldn't find the way back home
His word of the day had expired.
And so he lay in wait till dawn
So he'd have a clearer mind
He resolved to visit the store
For an anchor that sounded kind.
Month after month, year after year
Passed slowly as he searched in vain
Until he couldn't walk a step
So then he crawled, wailing in pain.
He'd known this would happen to him
'Writer's block', a feared condition
That attacked those forged from language
There was no cure for this affliction.
And soon the town forgot their names
The woods became haunted in grief
Of poetic ghosts that long for words
In damnation without relief.
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 12:22 AM UTC
The narcissistic urge flips eggs now.
Our ex-veteran father-figure gets a hamster, calls it Snuffles.
The thing you don’t know until the end of the script of the Tarantino-twist is that our protagonist sits
rocking back and forth in
a barren room inside a strait-jacket.
Meanwhile, our enemy shouts
something along the lines of:
"grab a spoon
I hope they don’t wash their hands"
The stones fallen off their strings,
gunshots hotwire themselves away from
a dubstep kind of drilling, the pipe dream
of an intimate email relationship.
Shout again,
"I hope you never feel those clammy hands.
Blaarghh"
Your diner eggs stink
I chucked up
In the kitchen bin.
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 12:43 PM UTC
Let the babble stop
Let the brain farts cease
Let pleasure be your guide
And the poet slip into their persona,
Like a performance uniform,
A slip dress
An existential throw up of thoughts like
Bad Chinese food.
The kind that climbs out of Tupperware,
slippers ready
Of Tupperware and ready slippers
***** out takeaway rice.
Performance uniforms sit up in bed,
Babbling about existential poets.
The bad Chinese food
Waltzes with its guide,
Brain dribbles out of nostrils.
Dear night-shoes,
This babble has ceased,
Pleasurely.
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 12:31 PM UTC
Bittersweet and lemon treats
Tanking troubled hatless heaps
Salty horizon flogs sweet beach
Sandy skin, too soft a peach
Your thumb brushing my left cheek
Can you still smell the apple’s reek
Skewed hearts remain in heat
Devine reminds a heart to beat
Kept up in the saddles seat
King of every bit of hate, wash
These battered palms disgrace
Love has sunk the ship of face
Tulips lack the need for space
Whips of stars appear in plight
Have you only fight or flight?
Good wills only break the bank
And I’ve only left myself to thank
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 11:35 PM UTC
“Oh hell yea, they’re suffering! They’re believing that they can go home, but aren’t getting any closer to the Entropoid Valley which leads to Kubla Khan, by whom they were cremated and born. Instead, they’re here, whiling away their days for boys who are bringing the death of days.”
“Hold your thoughts, lad!” Yells the Cameraman of the Head.
“I’m here, I’m in your head ImhereImhereImThere. You’ve no right to chastise the boys who have not kissed the horror. They’ve seen it, yes. But they haven’t captured it, you see. I am the camera, in my ribs are the film reels, the oscilloscope in my uvula, the trigger rested in my right earlobe. I tell you, there is strength in their brutality, I can bring you the tribal taste.”
“Man, we was just talking about centrifugal farce.”
“Centripetal.”
“No, was it?”
“Wasn’t it?”
“Hey! I believe-“
“Can’t be”
“Shan’t be”
“Oh, whatever. Those bullets find their way to the ***** anyhow.”
“Anywho.”
“Hey, grab your Coca Cola, Clean. We’re ‘bout to miss the show. The cameraguy could record it if he wants.”
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 12:18 PM UTC
Sewer rats bottleneck into a Carnival of Depravity. Due to the bizarre circumstance of their fingers, they allow their limbs to become limp. As Valkyries, they are aware of the juxtaposition of their clown pantaloons and their hobnailed mudboots. In this benefit carnival, a ferris wheel runs amok. Within it, GI’s holler their way through the vermillion skyway, zippoing the dented carapace with their M16s. In a true practice of youthful bliss, the 5.56 returns to the cosmos. However, the bullets, streaming out and homewards, are soon constrained to the circular path of the wheel itself.
“Centripetal farce!” goes Lance.
“Hey what, man?” whimpers Mr. Clean.
“Well, y’see: centripetal fOrce makes an overwhelming amount of sense. So much so, that when superimposed on the Carnival Cavalcade™, it must make no sense, for it’d shake us all up something mad.”
“So, the bullets aren’t real?”
“Oh, they’re plenty real. Just touch it, it’d melt you, starting with the neurons, cat. Other than little blue reality though, it’s out there. Its dancers are not chained to any concrete block of nature.”
“Oh, they’re sufferin’?”
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 11:38 AM UTC
By the 1960s, a disillusionment with Nationalism and war was permeating within the public consciousness.
Man: jazz. Jazz! Everything sounds like jazz when you lend your hears an oscilloscope. You know what j-a-z-z sounds like? Well, it’s sweet, serendipitous or nonsensical, nihilistic. Modern in stainless steel or anachronistic in brass. Jazz! So what? Jazz sounds like anything that’s everything and vice versa. It’s a limb of that omniscient looker up and over: the tune itself. Oh, the tune? It’s what lies between your fingers when you’re writing, forging, loving, giving, perishing. You strut with the frequency of a conduit, but an unaware one at that. A change is gonna come in mere years, I know that much. Everyone will be deloused in the pain of the world; Mother Sympathy for all, even the charlatans who hide behind their crimson fur! All I’m saying is, whoever brings it ought to be from this place. I can’t fathom a recalcitrant extraterrestrial handling our own business at the expense of their planet’s water supply. I’m excited for whatever comes, believe me. So long as it ends me and with me.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 7:45 PM UTC
How can I feel alone with you right by my side?
I am at war with these feelings I hide,
You try so hard, always lend a helping hand,
But when it comes to my soul I fear you don't understand,
I wish you had a mind that worked like mine,
Anxious and uncertain all of the time,
And emotions that constantly go up and down,
With ideas incessantly spinning like a merry-go-round,
Or maybe I just want you to get why
I am easily upset and often cry,
When you tell me I'm crazy that word cuts through my skin,
You of all people should be aware of the chaos within,
But instead I feel in my body there must be something wrong,
Around you I feel like my inner thoughts do not belong,
I know there is no reason for my steadily shifting mood,
But knowing that still does not better my attitude,
I can tell you love and care for me so very much,
But lately I wonder if that is enough,
I find myself trying to be someone different for you,
So we can be happy and not break in two,
But I'm starting to realize and accept
I'll always be like this; insecure, ******** a total wreck,
Its not fair to you when you give all you have,
To give up on evolving and only put in half,
You deserve more than what I can offer,
Someone who will aid you to thrive and prosper,
It's clear to see I am holding you back,
A distraction somehow guiding you off-track,
Taking up too much of your time and energy,
Yet when I tell you to go, you say you only want me,
Why is that when I am bitter and cold?
You could find a far warmer hand to hold,
I want you to love me for not despite
My endless flaws that cause us to fight,
I wish I loved you enough to let you go,
It would hurt me but it would be what's best I know,
I am too selfish to say goodbye and depart,
So I continue to break both our hearts,
In hope that your love will make me whole,
Fill up and repair this gaping hole,
I lie not only to you but to myself,
Inside I sense we are too damaged to be helped,
So we live every day with a smile on our faces,
We follow our routine, go the usual places,
But something is off, engraved in each bone,
You're right here so why do I still feel alone?
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 10:07 PM UTC
here i am, grasping to all i have left like a
pathetic fool, i am in a heap on the floor.
i cannot control gravity, so i’m as close as i can to
falling straight through the earth.
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 1:00 PM UTC
i think i forgot to take my pills today
because
i swear somebody just slammed a car door
behind me
why else would my ear be ringing and my
body jumping
unless that was simply the sound of my
neck snapping.
as my
brain
body dis-
connects
and every-
thing
looks like a
circle be-
cause it
all whizzes
past me
my body
can't
respond
because
yes
that was the sound of my neck snapping.
Maybe i just rolled my head
back too hard in agony
tragic forget-mistake
'take these
everyday'
'or what?'
'you might feel like yourself'
what a thought.
This can't be me-
i've cried three
times today, please
someone tell me
why i can't sleep
without dreaming
...
because i always
have to wake up.
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
Thinking is a difficult thing.
Thinking is a difficult thing.
You think that thinking may be too much thinking for you,
Your mind flowing like the wind, in the wind, on the wind,
Stepping through the passage of the wind, unknown to you.
Highlight cities in grass so green
That thinking seems a silly thing
Thinking is a difficult thing.
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 12:39 PM UTC
I don’t think I want to go to class today
But around you I don’t know what I think
I think I thought that you think I think
But I thought you thought that you loved me
My senses are nonsensical
My thoughts are a jumble
Of words and phrases
So maybe I should go to class
Just this one time
Because then I put these thoughts on paper
But I still can’t say them to your face
Because then they come out like
Class I maybe have shouldn’t gone thought to
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 9:25 AM UTC
And if I could cry-
for just a little while
My body would run dry
Tear ducts, like air ducts
I need a replacement
The ventilation is all wrong
Misty and fogged glasses-
Impair my vision
Remove them and I am blind
Blind to the heartache-
the metaphorical bleeding
inside of my mind
Every day the pain grows-
Grows roots, roots that once
kept me grounded
Now I'm surrounded-
by the demons I once
banished
Rip the roots from my feet
and all I'm left with is nothing.
Nothing but darkness
and blank space
Dark and deep
The black hole In which I keep you
Swirls infinitely
I brace myself for impact
the meteorite sets it sights
on my chest
****** target, take aim and
gain flight
Don't miss, you'll regret it
I could be angry, but what's the point?
You're gone forever
and never coming back
© 2017 Christina Jackson
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 10:50 PM UTC
you are the white in my eyes
the blood in my veins
you are everywhere, yet nowhere all at once
confusingly sensible
reliably unreliable
so dangerously safe
my uprising and my downfall
i mask this uncertainty with the face you wear
hidden in plain sight
so violently soft
i take what you give
stolen willingly
a thief in the night
i embrace your darkness
and revel in the light you shine
your touch, so gentle, it burns
yet i find comfort in this pain
inhuman in its humanity
they say opposites attract
and this love is nonsensical
but i'll accept what is given
for it is given by you
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 12:41 PM UTC
Sometimes when I skip rocks at the sea,
I'm surprised it doesn't throw them right back at me.
As when I was a much younger girl,
I always kicked out at the world,
but the world kicked back harder each time,
maybe just trying to keep me in line.
In life there's a set of lessons that we have to learn,
like passing your hand through a flame and seeing eventually that your skin will burn.
Or trusting the wrong person to keep your secrets and to guard your heart,
because more often than not, you'll have it ripped apart.
Maybe these thoughts hold no meaning,
but I've been dying just to get them out.
Since I was born I've been fiending,
to know what this whole life is about.
Every night I look for life in the skies,
but the only other world I've found is in my dog's eyes.
Her world is a place where love is given freely,
where ours is where our hearts leave unintentionally.
Maybe these thoughts hold no value,
but I've been dying just to give them air.
You would if you were plagued by them too,
I just want one night where my mind's bare.
Sometimes I envy those who don't hold their tongues,
I'm filling up with unspoken words and they're now filling up my lungs.
If I keep staying silent I will most likely drown,
but if I open up my mouth the water will rush on down.
Do you ever think we live in a picture painted by manipulative hands?
because from far away it looks perfect, but close up the colours have blended at the strands.
Maybe we're just hung on a wall with a glance from bored eyes,
and the only sounds in the gallery is a mix of yawns and sighs.
Maybe these thoughts hold no currency,
but I've been dying just to get them out.
Right now my mind's in a state of emergency,
I've been crying so hard that there's now a drought.
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 7:52 AM UTC
As I start my day waking up from bed,
I would start my daily routine of dread.
"I woke up yet again,
From my slumber of ten."
My ten hours of sleep from waking up dead.
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 10:43 AM UTC
Rain drops
Cookie dough
1/5
2/5
red 1/5
blue 1/5
eccentric
esoteric
bippity boppity boo
everybody clap your hands
supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Quite atrocious
Horrid
calamity
GADGETRY
Tragedy
To Infinity, and BEYOND
This is my
Nonsensical
Whimsical
Fickle
Erratic
Lewis Carroll like
Dumbledore Approved
Because I can
Poem.
And that's that
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 2:54 PM UTC