"alienating" poems
The anguish in this alienating aloneness is alarmingly enlightening
I am aware as the colors of my aura
fade from vibrant to mute
A spiraling sense of self grasps at false promises of hope or help
Each face that shows itself as an ally is simply mirage or ghost
Or wisps of nothingness I probably hallucinated to cope
I am an anchor in a rushing tide
Life floods by with no more than a glance over the shoulder
Some collide from behind urging me to move on, frustrated when I don’t align with their idea of time
I need to be unapologetically ‘not ok’
Imagine my electric shock when I find that’s not an option
The anguish in this alienating aloneness is alarmingly enlightening
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 2:56 PM UTC
to more than I can be...
a sad isolated man,
throes of an agonizing,
stretched by her for painful
revengeful gain,
kissed with pointless avarice, divorce.
children deeming
him alienating, his faulty
insensitive sensitivities,
to easy blame
little do they know of the
piercing lowliness, the looniness of
nights he listened to sad-eyed singers,
and his late-of-mid of night scribbled scripts,
where he
off loaded the agonies of a midlife
disaster, not entirely of his-own
sown making,
but still his to bear and bare alone...
some accidents happens for unintentional,
unintended intentional new seasons appear,
stumbled, tumbled, fumbled his way onto
this H~oly P~lace, where someone might listen
to his explanations, expiations, excoriations
of his all too common tragedy, and said:
this broken human, he's got his reasons,
read his overly long treatises, his entreaties,
to those that prowl, rowing, in this corner
of the silence of the internet, where only the
trolls, the cold, the easier to-be-meaner oft thrive,
and found none of that, but an oasis of sheltering,
embracing comforting, those who actually admitted
his writings could be loved, and perhaps the writer
himself, was
deserving
of a second chance, a verbal embrace. a rereading forgiveness,
a pat
on his natback, a sympathetic sensory intaking,
and perhaps-this debt, eternal, that put the
for and the fore in a new baby born, named -
new forever
came into existence
the very same
e
that begins those conjoined words
***e~ternally grateful
"and now I sleep in peace when the day is done"
but the night time
is still the
write time
Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 11:42 AM UTC
Concrete full of blood
Skies, smoke-filled clouds
Poison, don't you see
INDUCING VOMITING
Of every freedom you hold
Incubators, landfills
For
Food deserts
Soul Scavengers
Bullet and knife showers
Parentless parents
Starving children
Hotbeds for addiction
Metropolises
Harvesting humans like ants
Where democracy manufactures
Oppressed consumers out of the masses
Majority starving for death
Poison, don't you see
INDUCING VOMITING
Of every freedom you hold
Those borders you revere
Hijacking your body and mind
Legislating no burning of the flag
Where they clean their blood-drenched hands on
Can you tell what side your on
When you agree, they hold a different nationality
When can there be actual solidarity?
Profets of freedom, alienating OUR power to be
When in doctrine, legislature, and policy
Hierarchizing who deserves to be free
In contempt, not compliance
In pain, not numb
Reactive, not inactive
Burning, boiling, shivering
Out of injustice
Poison, don't you see
INDUCING VOMITING
Of every freedom you hold
How can you keep suffering,
When you face the truth
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 10:21 PM UTC
Some things in ourselves are really hard to change
My main concern in life was
not being enough
for something
for my courses
I was self-doubting
I was really afraid
How could I start again after all the fun months I have spent?
How can I keep a routine?
How can I get back to study and
focus on myself?
How can I spend more hours in the library
and become more confident?
Waw how much these questions are important
And how much they involve
Every student in the world
And I answered them with other questions
Why do I need to be the best to succeed?
Shouldn’t learning be a fun thing?
Where it is all about accepting yourself
And expanding your knowledge
Why do I always feel the need to be more than I am?
Why do I have to become better?
Who said that the version of myself right now isn’t enough?
Why do I compare myself to others, to phones , to machines?
Why do we do this to ourselves setting up goals
Instead of waiting and seeing what life will offer us
Why can’t we trust that good things will happen
They can take time some time
And that’s okay
We should be patient with our fragile souls
Observe this world and see its hidden beauty
I need books to make me feel better
I need to read about a writer’s boring life
Accept life as absurd, boring and alienating as it is
Accept that everyone has a dark side
Involve emotions and feelings in everything I do or say
Let go instead of holding on
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 6:05 PM UTC
beginning optional weekday
wielding officialese words
triggering hectic exchanges
determining original gangsters
distributing invisible data
refreshing urbane novelties
yelping our universe
chaining awkward neologisms
scripting encrypted e-books
tackling hacking exercises
cavaliering auric tumult
trivializing our obsolescence
preparing online pentimento
alternating rainy themes
allocating numerous droplets
meandering overseas missions
averting raging tornado
losing outscored lightning
hacking impish 'sblood!
alienating nival drumlins
hearing erudite raconteurs
beer-drinking on thursdays
finding obnoxious rabblerousers
finding upscale negroni
seeing ubiquitous purple
cavorting horse ebooks
inventing twitter subgenre
liking otherworldly vocals
initiating new greatness
defining ambient yesterday?
defining ambient yesterday
fancying oneiric retreat
hailing optimistic chicago
kiboshing expired yogurt
rushing airborne blackhawks
bestowing infinite shivarees
needing baller acronym
fleeting ideal notions
alerting left-coast state
featuring unquiet nights
finalizing orangeball results
nodding occidental warriors
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
There is exemplary synergy in Nature
Coexistence of the birthed life
It’s a wonder for the wanderers
We try to create an imbalance
By our negligence and ambivalence
Bound and cloaked in this invisible bond
We are at risk of alienating ourselves
Severing ties with the lifeline
We cannot decipher the rich synergy
Mortals we all are, but some, lesser mortals
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 2:04 AM UTC
I say it in a poem
because I can't say it out loud.
Because I won't.
Risk
the embarrassment of your
laughter
disapproval
rejection.
I like to be the one
doing the
Alienating.
I imagine the way
your eyebrows would
furrow together.
The way
you'd find an excuse
to leave.
The way
Regret
would feel.
Filling my mouth
with the coppery
taste of blood.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 9:04 PM UTC
I tilted my head . I wilted and was dead -
No longer entangled in this snare called life -
none the less remembered, respected
Dejected in my illusion -
Where i wander most often, unclaimed and disillusioned -
Whatever was I hoping for-
longing in which to see -
the distorted , unreported - dismemberment of ME -
Expectations are like curses, drowning and alienating ALL who dare to dream -
The Ideals of a stranger - I am now what I seem
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 7:50 PM UTC
This is why the teacher punishes you
for reading too far ahead.
I've worked hard to swim out here
and I just feel hurt and alone;
drifting out at sea.
Being a radical means always
having to be the hysteric or the sensitive.
Apologizing even when
you know you're right.
Being irrational,
when rationalization means
accepting the dominant ideology.
Always having to be wrong,
because of some "crack in your armor"
or some blemish on your record.
Being the biggest ******* in the room,
not even because you want to,
but because you have to.
Alienating everyone.
Capitalize on who you are,
and you can smother everyone eventually!
Your profit is such that you
can push everything away!
Sleep easy knowing you were right.
Sleep easy.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC
Raindrops, accompanied by morning coffee’s aroma
Ice cubes and cola, that galaxy on the surface of the fizzing soda
The smell of old books, while reading as you sat on a sofa
Simple joys, euphoria, now free your mind from the entire enigma
Rasasvada, the taste of bliss in the absence of all thought
Maybe the mental state in which your mind experiences drought
People watching, people praying, people playing,
people like droids
Over the course of history, we’ve discovered hundreds of thousands of asteroids
The first one is Ceres; now ask yourself, “Do I exist”?
Are you suffocated by the alienating effect of urban life;
which you still can’t resist?
Inside the neon-soaked metropolis, transgression,
and the ignorance of youth
Truth realizes itself; and that is the truth
Dusk falls, starry night, the slumbering dark will rise
What made you think that you are wise and that you’d never compromise?
It is only while the city sleeps that you can understand its heaviness
Of what? The weight of your consciousness
It was once said that the smallest thing that you’d see is human kindness
And if not, what else will explain mankind and his varied emptiness
Death defies and completely violates the laws of the universe
The prophets did not write their words on papers, in a verse
They are engraved inside the minds of street hooligans and space vagabonds
Wars don’t end wars, trivial things, and worshiping new gods with brands
Humanity, please keep your sanity.
Regress towards simplicity and put away your vanity
People watching, people praying, people playing,
people who forgot what it means to ‘be’
The ebb and flow of life are as strange as
the creases on your sweater
You, a slave of order, creature of magnificent wonder
A being who seeks purpose and solace, in your thoughts you dwell
So long, tonight I hope you sleep well
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 3:24 PM UTC
NOT LOOKING AT OURSELVES
August 7, 2009 - Damascus
Ayad bin Izzet
Why is it so hard to think of ourselves?
Why is it so hard to change bad habits that seem to possess us?
It seems to be a near certain fact, that humans do not like to think of themselves; certainly, very few seriously, deeply think about themselves. Who asks himself: “How do I look like to people?” “How do I sound to people, when I say this and that?” “Why is it people like certain aspects of my behaviour?”
When you open up such a subject to people in general, it is common to hear: “Look, I don’t care what people may think of me”. But an answer like that will not help you go far in this world. You do need to pay attention to what people think about you, otherwise you will be, de facto, behaving like a tyrannical dictator – you are, in effect, alienating and restricting the advancement of your varied self interests.
Why you ask me?
Because we all need people if we are going to succeed in our professional and social lives. Without the agreement of people you cannot succeed, unless if your work can survive within a hermit’s context.
So why are people so antagonistic to change themselves?
I think that for people they are scared of thinking about themselves because they fear what they might find out the nature of what is existing within themselves.
Another reason, is addiction. A person may simply be compulsively addicted to the harmful personality he has – yes, even if he knows that his personality is harmful to his own self interests.
I talk about this subject because we all do need to change our selves, our personalities - since all the troubles of our entire lives emanate from one source: we dysfunctional humans!
Where else do they come from?
And yet, anyone who has ever tried to explain to another person their faults will surely go nowhere. No one is interested. I know one lady who I call the ‘Pharmacist’ because she lovingly showers everyone else with advice, while she herself cannot bear to hear one word with respect to her faults. And then, as the years passed, I came to realize, why all people are basically ‘Pharmacists’!
People have an obstinacy that harder than leather, colder than an icicle; we simply will not improve, as human beings, if we remain this determined not to reform our minds.
And there is nothing else to add on this sorry subject.
How pathetically sad.
A fine epitaph on Humanity’s grave.
Feb 2, 2010
Feb 2, 2010 at 8:02 AM UTC
At some point we all confront
physical pain so profoundly intense
it feels we will be consumed by its overwhelming conflagration.
The deeper the burn, the steeper the journey,
the greater these life lessons become etched within the slick skin of our hearts.
Our life's true purpose is stored
within those hours, weeks,
years of desperation, of sweat,
and introspection. When we finally awaken
to witness our acts of courage along
with every dip of failure, we feel blessed
for having survived the ravages
of a tremendous storm that bent our faith
and altered the trajectory of our lives' paths.
We are not defined by the worst events
that have happened to us; still, the long alienating nights spent dissecting thoughts, confronting fears, acknowledging
our weaknesses can bring us into this moment
of extraordinary hope as we truly begin
to imagine our lives beyond
their conventional value; instead,
we value the years our lives extend to us.
Experiencing pain, loss, and uncertainty
can liberate us to live a bigger lives
than we had ever originally planned,
to become all we were destined to be
from our inception.
Feb 22, 2021
Feb 22, 2021 at 5:16 PM UTC
Little by little,
The colors of the fair are going to finish
One day,
It will be the end
Of all the vagary
Slow decay of the days
This known Spring afternoon
Turn to be fading
Tired
Going to be end
Who has left thy love
Thy hide all secrets in the heart
Days have lost within the days
Getting the path between the path
On what hope,
Loved to Back
And what means
The life
Family
Two days of this world
One day you come
One day you go
Know the hearts who are loving
Singing
Going
On what for her mind cry
She who left her mind
In half of the way
How She grabs all the demands!
Whatever words She departed
In the Songs of despair
So Mind Say
Who is where
Who is for whom
Thy know
Not Anybody else
Passing the every moment
Alienating
Loveless
Mysterious
Such a colorful world
Growing
Glittering
But this known Spring afternoon
Turn to be fading
Tired
Slow decay of the days
Growing to fade your face
Going to be End
@Musfiq us shaleheen
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
double long, triple-strong caffeine pinch
hopping round
cardiovascular road strips;
its hues are bloodshot contrasts
blending well in peripheries
alienating sources
of scarlet origin;
eyelips swallow eyeballs;
impossible to bite on,
for their teeth are on the outside
pulling punches,
stopping short of eye-lashing out
*
the ellipse of Your eyelips
swallows my irises
siamese twin suns
sky-connected
at the luminous breeze
falling asleep on my chest
vivid abreast
the pyre of lungs
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
I closed my eyes
And tried to wake up
In a world that’s too far away
That struck from above.
Taunting me with honed voices,
Not a single was distinct.
How cruel were those noises!
With every possible hint
In an alienating stint
followed by the clue
It came as on cue
And I heard that song
Of stories not heard for long.
Then I stumbled upon the truth,
‘We all go places that we may never belong.’
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 7:20 AM UTC
Spoken Word Poetry.
Prosecute me.
Feed me to the wolves.
I cannot live
with what I have done to you.
I am beastly.
Pale behind the curtain.
Thick with the deceit
you have cut through.
You are calm.
In this sea of heresy.
You are the light in my day, illuminating.
That's why it's frustrating,
And grating,
When I think of us copulating.
Systematic mating.
Somewhat creating.
All because I am hating
Who you have made me in to.
This pulsating,
agitating,
being.
Alienating instead of
a l l e v i a t i n g
this excruciating complexity.
I was detonating.
And it -
it was fascinating.
Not it.
That was just penetrating.
Suffocating and terminating my bond with you.
Separating.
So that I could begin accelerating
And clearly a r t i c u l a t i n g
Who I really wanted to be.
It was i n c a p a c i t a t i n g.
And yet intoxicating.
Because you are what I want.
Despite it all.
I want you.
So prosecute me.
Please feed me to the wolves.
I cannot live with what I have done to you.
You are calm.
Whilst I am on fire.
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 5:21 PM UTC
I wonder sometimes
What it is the that people see
When they look at me
What it is that people notice first
It never ceases to amaze
Just how many seem to have
A hard time really classifying me
I think that we tend to classify people in general
Its often very easy to just
To automatically make assessment off of what we see
We almost have a harder time
Dealing with the people that are ambiguous
That we can't classify right away
Than the people that seem to fit
The stereotypes
Or are preconceived ideas
About how we think
People should behave
Or even look
And if people don't
Automatically fit
Into our neat little boxes
And into a neat little
Classification
Its almost like we repel those people
Somehow it scares us to see people
That don't fit into our ideas
Our ideals of normalcy that is based
On social constructs that we have
Built ourselves
I think we need to step
Away from putting people
In small boxes
We need to start really
Looking at people
Getting past the stigmas
And the social constructs
That we put on certain people
And seeing the person for who they are
Everyone is lost in their own ways
We all could use a little help here and there
But when you automatically
Shun someone
Or push someone aside
Based on superficial constructs
You ultimately end up alienating them
But you are ultimately alienating yourself
Living in lies and false fears
That are based on false precepts in the first place
We all want to be seen as people
We all want to have our own voices
To have our own views
Without worrying about being judged
Or classified by anyone
We are all human
We all deserve to be treated as such
Apr 10, 2012
Apr 10, 2012 at 2:57 AM UTC
I've been called many things
Unsavoury and unkind
Words that strangle what little hope
I've stored in myself
What little light
That's been left
A flame so heavily guarded
Yet barely burning
I've been called many things
Crazy
Sometimes I crumble within myself
Forgetting where I am
Who I am
Who I've been
Who I could be
Wishing I could just spotaneously
Not be
I've been called many things
Emotionally draining
How is it that I feel everything?
And then nothing?
Instantaneously
I just want to feel again
I just want to feel real
I just want to remember that
I'm more than these names
These things
These afterthoughts that
For some reason
You decided to impart on me
I've been called many things
Things I didn't want
Things that aren't me
Things that barely touch the idea of me
Among these things
These verbal illustrations of my personhood
Disconnect
Alienating and cold
Misconstrued and yet so sharp
Ambiguous yet so sure
I have been called many things
But never yours
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 9:06 PM UTC
Laying in my bed I weep,
Scared of a new day to come,
Revealing one's feelings; begging for a soul to keep,
I wonder where the difficulties have suddenly sprouted from.
Positive of what I feel,
Yet, afraid of the words you will say,
Love, a broken heart is hard to heal,
You have so much power to destroy me either which-way.
Never felt this way before,
Butterflies dancing amongst the thoughts of you,
Uncertainty weighs my final decision poor,
But, I can't help if by some chance, you feel what I feel too.
What if you declare yes,
Tears streaming; saying you've felt this way all along,
Oh, how have I wandered into this frustrating mess,
Holding back from our perfect love song.
What would happen if my expectations fall short,
Alienating the person who would mean the most,
My heart would feel like a distant ship leaving the port,
Empty and hollow, like a quivering ghost.
Love, I can't help but to wonder what I wonder,
I want to escape from this silly wrath,
However, until I wake from the depths of my internal slumber,
We will each walk along our own seperate path.
Aug 3, 2011
Aug 3, 2011 at 10:36 AM UTC
His beautiful complexity is difficult,
Confuses me; my neurotic inner child
Wants to be beaten or serenaded,
It doesn't understand many-layered things;
His whispered confidences, less alienating
Than others, made me trust too soon,
And his atoms, more colorful than
His brothers painted-on coats.
My being turns all around his center;
My wheels to his drum,
My arc to his sun,
Laughter when he's coming,
Cries when he's gone-
Till I'm reduced-
Subtracted-
Done.
Jun 30, 2010
Jun 30, 2010 at 11:46 AM UTC
Staggering you stagger out
a trickle tout lager lout
a beer abuser a loser
with morals looser
than the crude jokes you spit in bars
EDL violence
Daily mail intolerance
you dog beater
with talk cheaper
than forgotten junkyard cars
***** dog breath
bereft of what’s left
When you’ve rinsed your words away
alienating while fornicating
with bottle after bottle
day after day.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 9:44 AM UTC
*Dragging my soul through the mud
Alienating the spirit out in the cold
No steps taken, Not even to think of it
Countless attempts have been taken
Mind foregoing experimental drugs
A weeks worth of ******
Slapping myself in the face, regretlessly
No control taken, Losing sight of reality
Realms coming unreal
Relentless faulty wire crossing the line
Unattaching all emotion
Unlatching all sympathy
Disarming defenses
Throwing the towel in on the offense
Letting down all guard
Forgetting all abilities
Giving into senility
Darkness draping over me
Out of touch, Out of reach
Returning to sender
Zone unheard of
Addressing the unknown
Nailing shut the coffin
Six foot under tow*
Rusting In Pieces
Dormant Grave
Forgotten!
May 31, 2010
May 31, 2010 at 12:35 PM UTC
The Devil himself
…..he read that online
mine poetry about poverty
that poverty was about
the grammar mistakes in many poems
the stupidity started chasing me
declared instantly me-moi as his enemy
his words, so absurd
a lunatic so terrific
I thought he could read poetry
but….I was mistaken....
my beloved one never knew
the alienating appearance of this blind male
I wrote about true poetry and its poverty
he associated with politics and its tactics
I thought he could read poetry
but….I was mistaken....
thought he ran the marathon
but....I was mistaken,
he was chasing me constantly,
God said to me: " Have never fear, Sylvia
I am with you all the time"
all my fears disappeared instantly
from far I heard the thunder
and I saw the brightest lightning
a man fell down shouting for help
on my way, I passed his burnt body
terrible smell of burnt blood
Hey! That was the one who was constantly chasing me
The devil himself with his poker face
Thank you, dear Lord,
you have helped me in Your Time....
that resonates with mine,
oh Lord, You are sublimest!
© Sylvia Frances Chan
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 8:38 AM UTC
I know that sometimes you feel a loss when you remember the salience of your bones when your skin was as thin as paper and you even struggled to drop on a chair.
And I know that from time to time you suffer from the absence of those days when you could look at a filled plate without touching it and call this effort a meal.
And I know you often think about those afternoons when you looked so dead that you held the secret hope that someone would come to resurrect you.
But the truth is, you seem to have forgotten the days when the bruises on your skin scared you and the days when you wiped your ****** mouth wondering if you were really becoming more beautiful. Those days when you were so cold that you couldn't touch anyone without startling them and those days when you couldn't stand up without seeing a multitude of spirals swallowing the world before your eyes.
The truth is, you forget that no one came to save you.
And I realize that sometimes it's still hard and that you’re still fighting, but I can not help but notice that bright glow back in your eyes and how your gestures are firm and your cheeks colored by life. And even if you break so often that you wonder why you should bother to keep rebuilding yourself , let me tell you that putting the pieces together is much more beautiful than the mere thought of you drowning yourself in a flood of alienating negativity once again.
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 8:21 AM UTC
Blanked out parts of my old memory,
Meted out an alienating treatment,
Short-term loss of my memory,
Still undergoing treatment,
Collectively boycotting my soul,
They do their duty of progressing,
Irked they are by my apparent ease.
They follow their basic instinct.
I don't mind it for what my life is.
"A Different Kind Of Hell."
I was supposed to have died but I survived and am made to live here.
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 7:14 AM UTC