"actionless" poems
Lost count of the actionless words,
they too, went south like the birds.
You stopped talking the talk
and walking the walk,
and maybe I deserved it for a minute,
but no matter how you try to spin it
I still deserve the compliments you once would declare.
I still deserve to hear that you overwhelmingly care.
The fact that you've faded to me isn't fair.
I'm breaking from feeling jaded and bare.
All I asked was for what we once had,
you told me blank gaze I couldn't have that.
So I've chose to stop feeling mad or sad,
And have embraced the fact you won't go back.
I'll take what I can get, like all the ones before,
I may have thought you different, but I am wrong, once more.
Sold me your angel smile
and then waited awhile
before I would see the reality
of who you would be to me.
I'm through with keeping count;
tired of trying to accumulate any amount
of feelings of adoration
or feelings of correlation.
If ignorance is bliss, I live in euphoria,
since all I've been trying to do is adore ya.
Well, I will take my slice of cake, and enjoy it too,
sadly, with not much incentive given by you.
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 10:18 AM UTC
It exists
It does
Because
I do
Because I do.
It exists in and also out of
Existential action.
Everything is and not;
Inaction still is
Action of not.
Can it not
Exist actionless
In inaction?
In inaction of not.
Will it exist
If not for action?
If action is all
And not yet it,
How can it exist?
In stillness,
Inaction.
Still, it exists.
Stillness in time
Can not still exist.
Still,
It exists.
It passes without action,
Within inaction,
In action.
Time passes,
Even when still.
Inaction exists within,
Even in inaction.
Time passes still.
Still.
It passes still.
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 8:03 PM UTC
I've started forming my own army
I've killed myself 6 times in my head already
But I'm actionless
Unemotional
I go through the motions
Holding my hands together
Rocking back and forth
Distorting my senses and breaking from barriers
My fingers dangling my fears like puppets
And I can't control them
My mind cutting the strings loose unleashing my insecurities
I'm reaching for greater meaning but successfully being defeated
And all my hopes and dreams are just waiting to be achieved
The only problem is me
My body says move but my brain says I'm tired
Unmotivated
Scared
Ashamed
Not good enough
I have people in my ear telling me to give it up
So if I jump I might not make it
It's a long way down and I can't fake my way around
I'm only 19 and I can't picture my life 10 years from now
I'm stuck between what's expected of me and what I want for myself
I'm stuck between a decent job and my dreams
And my parents don't see it but every second spent here just makes it harder to breathe
Life outside of where I am now is what I see for me
But the way my mind is wired, I'm just one big ticking time bomb
Fading in and out of reality and make believe
Never having stability because it scares me
And honestly I'm one bad decision away from my own place in the ground and soul in the sky
I don't want to hurt anyone but I always thought I would die at the hands of my demons
Hitting 18 was a big moment for me
Hitting 19 was just lucky
20 in 3 months and I'm just keeping my eyes closed
Holding my breath
This world will **** you up and you just never know
I made a promise
**** I made a hundred promises
And sometimes you just let people down
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 9:33 PM UTC
This makes no sense like a round square or a respectful mockingbird, or a song with no melody or a rose smelling ****
Or an actionless verb or even better a dance with no steps.
It'll be 2017 in a few hours, but the stench of 2016 hasn't dissipated yet.
The celebrity massacre, gorilla killing, spirit and dream crushing year. It felt so depressing that at least once we were all brought to tears.
So sing Auld Lang Syne to your hearts content and cook Black eyed peas if you please
Just let me pass through midnight unscathed, that'll be enough for me
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 1:55 AM UTC
Actions speak louder than words,
tell me; should I believe you?
Mouth running, but arms are still...
Disregard the tears,
The actionless claims,
Unless you plan to show me.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 11:28 AM UTC
You’re reading this poem
and I’m picking at the hem of my dress
until the circle of fabric
that graced my feet
now sits uncertainly
at my ankles.
You’re not passive,
no longer can you claim actionless;
for every line you read
I’m pulling more
and now my knees are exposed
to the cold scrutiny.
Which line, I wonder,
will you like enough to remember,
and will it be worth anything
when you’re done?
I’m asking you this
not quite rhetorically,
but I don’t think you can see past
the thighs shaking in the winter.
It’s not your fault, of course,
not you, or you,
but you’re still reading,
and I’m still unwinding
the thread,
so let’s make the claim,
you and I,
that we’re both at fault here.
It’ll be too late by the time these words reach you.
There’ll come a point,
where you look away,
and I wonder which part of myself
was too much;
which part of myself
made you turn away,
and which part of myself
needs further work to be presentable
in anything other than excess.
I apologise. I’m rambling, and still pulling at the thread. The idea here is to make this harder to read, because god **** it, I won’t stoop so low as to beg you to stop, but it’s getting colder the more I pull. Soon enough, I’ll be bare in front of you, and what are we to do, then?
What are we ever to do?
It’s alright to stop reading, now,
because there’s no thread left to unravel,
just a pile of loose fabric at my feet, and
you can close the book, now. You can close
it, and I’ll pick up the needle.
Apr 15, 2021
Apr 15, 2021 at 7:34 PM UTC
The golden trees and the silver stars beckon beyond the realm of understanding and make real the redemption of the uncertain heart. How I wish to be as noble, to convey such emotions through actionless actions. Swaying and rustling, providing light, but not on purpose; but because it is natural. Is nature not closer to God? Man has fallen and yet nature remains. Nature bore the fruit but we chose to eat it. Oh! Noble tree, to be wholly innocent, is surely free. Do not fret, wise star! You have yet to escape my thoughts. How wonderful would it be to be perfectly preserved in an endless night. Woe to be an earthly man. Despite my resistance, as the fire dwindles, so do my thoughts of you. Stand firm, mighty tree, and look on spiteless star.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 7:03 PM UTC