"aloneness" 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
.
In solitude...
There's constant talk of the moon
And incessant wishes upon stars
Each word is cast unto paper
Unsure if they'd stretch that far
In solitude...
I embody pelts of droplets from the sky
As thunder mark the seconds that would elapse
Stagnant puddles of liquid dreams
Ever flowing in endless traps
In solitude...
I feel the urge to lose all balance
Aloneness beckons like a long lost friend
Always strange but familiar
To see and be at the bitter end
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 8:54 AM UTC
Our embrace lasted too long.
We loved right down to the bone.
I hear the bones grind, I see
our two skeletons.
Now I am waiting
till you leave, till
the clatter of your shoes
is heard no more. Now, silence.
Tonight I am going to sleep alone
on the bedclothes of purity.
Aloneness
is the first hygienic measure.
Aloneness
will enlarge the walls of the room,
I will open the window
and the large, frosty air will enter,
healthy as tragedy.
Human thoughts will enter
and human concerns,
misfortune of others, saintliness of others.
They will converse softly and sternly.
Do not come anymore.
I am an animal
very rarely.
10.2k
The nakedness of winter lies heavy upon
the tolling Sunday quietude
Shed leaves perish into yesterday
and the dream of another
dawning someday wanes
The sun ― lay low
the drudging ashen skyline
Barerd emerald moss scaffolds
draw much more distantness
to the pallid shadowed horizon
The evergreens step forth,
roots grasping sacred heart,
soil and rock
In the swelling aloneness
you can feel the grain
of the heartwood
rooted in your soul
There are no hard feelings
but there's an enduring ache,
like a tree with a rotting limb
languishing within
its blackened bark sacrifice
It's not just the grinding time
that slips away begrudgingly;
more of the same takes a toll
as if another unrung belfry hour
in an empty bell tower
without a song rang out in vain,
peeling reflections
of reluctant hours c r a w l by
in the insensible apathy
A so called holiday passes ―
its footprint bears down
hard and deep
as if a paling winter rose
grieves its own passing
A dry wishbone unbroken
lay bare the poignant
truth it holds;
it takes two to make
this wish come true
.
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
The only consistent thing having my back is my corset
always try to build connections but will never force it
I have come to peace with oneness, I know its all about how I perceive aloneness
Cannot say that some days I do not sway
Teardrops mimic the rains, falling falling away
Each day different energy to conquer
An ambitious rida like my anthem by Tupac Shakur
Summer perfumed memories making me hate the chilly breeze
Such a beautiful array of colours but my mind is stuck on green
Memories of the nights we laid underneath the moon's eyes
Everyday communication through the 3 and 5-D
Forget how much I loved my own eyes, vivid green that can pierce through lies
Hips blessed with the holy fruit of the divine
With you and without everyone I will continue to thrive
As long as I can inhale., I will thrive
As long as my hands are mine to control, I will express my thoughts on my mind
As long as my spine allows, I will climb that mountain no doubt
Always extending the lands I have touched.
Nov 2, 2020
Nov 2, 2020 at 10:14 AM UTC
Atmosphere, the fish bowl, circling here
At most fear, someone watching, from near
by,
Atmosphere, is it failing bit by bit?
At most fear, aloneness, unable to admit,
they are?
A mouse dear, it was a mouse I fear
In this a house of cheer and merriment,
go back my friend, to your hole in the wall
it is a trap!
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 8:58 PM UTC
I miss my cargo green canvas backpack
Shredded with the mass of three
science textbooks: biology,
classical history, chemistry.
Not like backpack was meant for
several colossal three hundred page
hardcover books.
When it was empty,
it was light,
barely anything, tugging
on my shoulders;
but I insisted the friend come with me.
But I used backpack
for study,
drudgery,
play.
The linen wore
with every use.
It was my safety blanket,
under loose cloth
that contained
sacarine
orange glucose
tablets that I hoped
to never need
Inside the main large pocket,
there was a secret
zipper, within held
a pack of cigarettes,
an excuse,
to pardon myself into a realm of aloneness-
with little questions asked
There were strings that adjusted
its position on my back that
I would pull down,
using tension to fling myself
terminal to terminal
More than fifteen times, I lost
count, of my partner traversing
across oceans, gently cradling my laptop and phone-
my trusted links
with the outside world
Nervousness alleviated by the tassels
in my mouth, I bite and chew
on the cloth, but it holds steadfast
as I ponder how to approach
what's next,
the bittersweet coffee they fell into
rehydrates with my salivating mouth,
hungry for adventure
but a stomach empty
knots itself
anxious
for what's to come
My backpack weighs
on my shoulders, empty or full,
but it's trained my body
to carry the load thoughts in my
head bring upon me
But it yielded to what was to come,
the seams at the bottom gave out.
Backpack let me know: I needed to
learn to carry on
without reliance.
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC
.
Time,
space
and everything in between.
Heartaches,
tears
and secrets that don't come clean.
Gambols,
laughter
and smiles beaming keen.
Deep thoughts,
aloneness
and the dark places we've been.
Handholding,
careless hugs
and ready shoulders to lean.
Reckless stabs,
impulsive jabs
and caustic words we don't mean.
Contentment,
counting blessings
and hope we can glean.
*You,
me
and everything in between.*
.
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 9:11 PM UTC
Aloneness is ecstasy,
Aloneness is bliss,
Lonliness is aloneness misunderstood.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
Marriage is an incomprehensible mystery,
a hidden truth kept secret from the foundation of the world.
It cannot be discovered by intelligence or insight,
but made explainatory by revelation.
Revelation reveals the mystery of marriage,
it explains the mutual relationship in marriage.
It shows the rhema,
light and
love in marriage.
The mystery of marriage is accessed through the throne of grace.
Wisdom, knowledge and understandingof marriage is made known by revelation.
The ability to see beyond the seen,
in oder to see many unseen realities of life.
Revelation unveils the principles of building a blissful marriage.
Marriage is honourable in all,
above all in a bed undefiled.
It's hidden truth is unveiled by revelation from divinity.
It constitutes a platfrom for fruitfulness in life and ministry.
It spreads the continuity of human generation.
Marriage as a divine institution,
solves the problem of aloneness.
It empowers man with resources to fulfil destiny on earth.
It is a hidden treasure not discovered without revelation.
Let revelation inspire the discovery of marriage treasures.
Marriage not only give pleasures,
but
help partners fulfil destinies.
Understanding kills separation and builds togetherness.
It develops unity and oneness among couples.
Understanding curbs separation in marriage,
and
solves marriage mystery.
The manifestation in marriage cannot be explained,
except
by revelation.
Marriage is a mantle not a struggle.
The man must provide for his wife,
the woman must submit to her husband.
Seek love not lust before marriage,
let character and charisma build marriage,
let love and care establish marriage.
Marriage remains a mystery till death.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 6:41 PM UTC
Who decides life is not worth it?
You?
God?
When you reach this point, questioning living, breathing, you play god.
You feel your mind make,
take,
break
and create
new processes never felt before; a process of passion,
confusion, contradiction and confession.
You strive just by the thought of not surviving.
The
downfall
of a
suicidal
mind.
Painfully and buried deep down the impulses slip out.
Screams for hopes, answers, connections, positive aspirations.
Constantly wondering is this it?
Is this the end?
That your life can never peek again,
so the result of your collapse is an
eternal slumber with the devil by your side.
Whispering in your ear telling you about the ache
and sorrow your sinking heart and conscience feel.
An eternal hell. An eternal anguish, torment, suffering.
Do you stay in the hell on earth or hell in the after life?
You examine all the details
over and over
only thinking of your lonely pitiful life.
Meaningless and outrageous.
Screams moving around trying to get out but only
bouncing back inside of you to find
the little nothingness in which they are in seek of.
Literally, are taking you in and cutting you into
the smallest treads as possible over and over.
Never letting up to give the one underneath a second break.
Pounding as hard as possible.
Thudding and pulling, twisting and hurting.
Neither end nor good.
You can feel the over whelming sense of your corruption
taking you headfirst and choking your every last breath off.
Cutting it away like a river being eroded by things we cannot control.
Your life you cannot control.
People you cannot control.
You see the only outlet in your mind
but it burdens you with insanity behind it.
Taking life; your own life.
The reasons are bliss.
Sweet tender resolutions freeze
over your tempered thoughts,
fragile thoughts of a
suicidal.
Unaware of the footprint left behind.
Your stomach churns,
stirs
and confusion
sets in once again.
You feel ***** rising in your
throat about to implode
but it’s just an illusion created
in your mind;
hallucinations.
Questions are still increasing
their intensity and passion.
With every moment of aloneness and isolation,
the time ticks away from you until you feel as though
you will fly into a rage.
You take a deep breath;
intense thoughts.
Questioning right verses wrong;
life verses death;
now or never.
Take a step back
and pull the trigger;
welcome to the end.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 3:27 AM UTC
stand(ing) here alone in the dark
like a head of tack pirouetting away
to no music - only acrid scruple
of this being with and not being with,
one is always alone.
space occupies the potteries in
the garden as a steady arm of light
stills in its mouth, a flowering dark.
it is only 3 o'clock in the morning
and the heat clambers the wall of
the vacuously atrabilious moment
of just plainly existing. the slender
harlequin of moon, like an old lover
having its own way with me, a child's
yelp coming home — the hermetic
air crushing the light, slivering it
revealing all the ensconced phantasms
too commonplace like a fork in the road
that i know, or the wayward metropolitan
that teems with a concatenation of roads
and gutters bilious with the squall of day.
a figure moves entering a warm miasma,
receiving the star of aloneness,
vacillating between
place and placelessness
telling this originary of repossessing
the moon with a hand in my hand,
pressing a question of where
have you been all the raging while.
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 3:52 PM UTC
No way to breathe
No way to find myself
Out of this sorrow
of you
I hear rumors
Sleeping In laundry mats
Dumpsers next
to the river
At night
Under freeway passes
Alone
The **** owns you
Knowing you
are so vulnerable
Breaks my heart
Even more
I am isolated
in your aloneness
I am lost in
your lost-ness
I miss you deeply
Yet am afraid
Of all you
come with
How do I find solace
When there is none
When the
silver lining has
become tarnished
My Sparkle Girl
Gone Girl Gone
Even if I found you
You would deny me
You would deny
me because
I am the voice
of reason
That you run from
I am so very alone
in your aloneness
May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 1:33 PM UTC
I am unsure of the nature of my insanity.
I don't know whether I shall overcome this,
or watch my life come crashing down around me.
I don't know where this path will lead.
It winds and it turns and it goes over mountains
and through valleys and even further
down
into caves and I am lost.
I am so utterly lost and beyond rescue.
I hear voices.
The say they want to save me.
They say they care.
I believe them sometimes, but come nightfall
all is lost.
I have never been so shaken, so scared.
I cannot describe this aloneness, this
simple singularity.
I know there are those that would take my madness.
They stand by me, but
I am blind.
I could hear them, but
I am deaf.
I can touch them, but
I am not convinced of reality.
I cannot accept that my life may end in ruin, but
will I really have a choice?
Will my mind just take over my mind and
destroy all I hold dear?
I don't know.
I just don't know.
So, you reading this, remember me please.
As I am now while I haven't been consumed by darkness.
Take these words and savor them.
This is me.
I am not yet insane.
One day I might be.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 1:23 AM UTC
I went down a hill on my bike,
It was fun.
The air in my hair,
Although my hair is quite short,
I could feel it.
I opened my eyes so the wind
Would meet them
And then slide to the corners
And off of my cheek.
There was a feeling of aloneness,
but a good one.
My partner was up ahead of me,
But ahead enough I could ignore they were there
For just a moment
And I could have sworn
I was flying
May 18, 2010
May 18, 2010 at 4:48 PM UTC
#
*Not all was lost
to the beast,
nor to the silence
that sheltered it.
For deeper still,
beneath the rubble
of unspoken years,
the child remained.
Bruised, yes..
but not extinguished.
Hidden;
but not erased.
A breath still moved,
a spark unclaimed
by the darkness.
The beast does not feed only
on the wound itself,
but on the hollow it leaves behind.
Gaslighting, scapegoating, silence..
all these are its masons;
carving out a chamber in the soul
where the beast makes its abode.
There, in the aloneness of the child,
it feeds from within,
claiming the silence as its fortress;
the emptiness as its throne.
And the door creaks again..
not always the first door,
but another..
a new figure cashing in
on the void they sense.
Their entry feels like company,
even love,
yet it is only continuance...
a repetition of the first harm.
Worse still when the creak
is painted with a smile,
when exploitation wears
the mask of care--
The abode deepens,
and the beast settles further
into the soul.
Yet the fortress cannot hold forever.
The silence cannot smother forever.
Even the grave-dirt of denial
cannot bury it whole.
For the child endures
where walls collapse,
and the smallest cry
outlives the loudest lie.
The beast devoured much,
but not all.
And in what survives,
the future breathes;
a testimony,
a beginning,
a voice
that will not be hushed.*
#
Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 3:44 PM UTC
MEMORIES OF SAND
I gave up sweeping that year
Like a penance
As sand permeated
Everything in my condo
Clung to my scalp and feet
Blew in with the fog and landed
In my tub, between my sheets, the sink, the carpet
Gritted between my teeth in the early hours
When i would reach for her still
Before the memory would detonate around me that she didn't come.
I would follow you anywhere.
Morphed into
I can't.
I hate those dagger give-up words.
Unlike the sand
I reviled in coaxing the beach closer still
And sand blurred the boundaries of my life
Inside. Outside.
Past. Present.
Old. New.
I could pull the blanket of crashing waves around me in hypnotizing hues
Breathe in the turquoise or gray or navy blue
Of the mecurial moods of the sea.
Each morning ritual of coffee and perching 8 foot tall on the sea wall studying the swells and tides
I could palpate the energy of my spirit rising around the waves
Curling and mixing as
Aqua-purple-red dragonflies hovered at my veranda hibiscus that murmers truths
I do no want to hear.
And in all that aloneness settled a great quiet still emptiness.
Because I couldn't cry I'd go diving in the persistent waves of salt and kelp.
The cold violated my eardrums and for a moment I'd go spinning-disoriented and weightless-suspended
Surrender without air as the Pacific held me buyouant
Only surfacing to breathe like a Baptism. I was ok being alone.
And sometimes I wasn't.
As the sand exfoliated my old self I'd grasp hold of the new wonders of phosphorescent tide under a harvest moon
And the fading memory of her would rise like a helium balloon I held down for 2 hrs and 4 weeks at Surfers Point in Ventura
Then let her go into the abyss of acceptance
Like granting permission to the invading sand
Gathering like whispers
In disappearing corners of her absence
And leaned into the redefinition of myself:
Barefoot. Sandy. Expectant.
The memory of sand.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 2:19 PM UTC
It's back again,
sleeplessness that makes me howl.
I shut my eyes in vain,
Dreams and quiet evade me.
I sit on the floor and whimper
as i remember my aloneness.
You left just yesterday,
With my heart at your feet.
Crushed it as you rushed off.
I was paralyzed by pain,
when you didn't spare me a backward glance.
It's that time of the night,
Where i reach out for your body.
There is nothing but empty space
Where you used to lie.
I call your number and you don't answer.
I text you begging you to come back.
My phone remains silent and I throw it against the wall.
Please come back.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 11:05 PM UTC
If you ever die
If you ever die from me
Looking at my longing eyes
In guise of a mystic veil
Dead drop at the twilight hours
White longish fangs
Of the piercing moments
Will unfurl its wings of fire
Setting sail in an invisible gondola
At long last to carry you home
To the isle of your birth
Even if you ever die at all from me
I will stand upon the deck of noontide
All alone in my aloneness, all alone
Staring vaguely at the rushing gondola
Surfing invisibly away from me
Tearing apart the veil of grazing mist
At the twilight hours casting spell on me
To diminish myself into you
And with you I too diminish away
From you, all away from you
In a shroud of love and longing
As if you never died away from me
In my longing eyes for you, only for you
And like The Prophet beloved
Prophesying on the blue mountain
From his never ending well
Of wisdom depthless and deathless
I will remember you as silently
As the sound of scorching darkness
And I will remember your heart
As saying for ever to me, only to me:
“A little while,
A moment of rest upon the wind,
And another woman will bear me." *
* (The italic quotation is from Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet)
Apr 24, 2010
Apr 24, 2010 at 10:53 AM UTC
The silence of solitude
sings to me at night;
soul-satisfying
words whispered
for my ears only
while the house sleeps.
I draw from the well
of my self, and savor
each drop thirstily.
The starving beast within
gnaws at every fresh
crust of aloneness,
melted butter soothing
scalded hands,
until my rumbling gut
is sated, and is at peace
with itself and the world.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 4:14 AM UTC
Do you ever think that life could be more?
That we are sitting,
doing nothing,
that life is passing us by?
Sometimes,
I feel remorse
for having had children so young,
for not having adventured
beforehand.
I want some adventure!
But all I see ahead of me is
Tameness.
I wish I had had a chance to go out into the
Wilderness
and just lived,
moment by moment.
I'm afraid I will die,
regretting that I never once lived.
(If I were a wealthy man, this might be the beginning of my mid life crisis.)
What is it called when a woman feels the panic of settledness coming upon her?
There is no name.
There is only the feeling of the sameness of days going by,
the aloneness of standing here,
surrounded by routine,
by repetition.
While the desire to jump,
to plunge, into the unknown,
beats steady on in my chest,
and the knowing that
That moment,
That chance,
Has passed me by.
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 7:52 PM UTC
#
.
*To feel things as deeply and as multi-layered as you do-- instantly and all-together, at once.. is to live a life that is far too often right on the edge of temptation, right on the edge of falling. The Art of holding on to who it is that you are, is to never betray that beautiful Self of yours.. whether in word, or deed.. at any given time. Ok it is to f e e l things as deeply as your luscious body and spirit so fully can, but as you already so clearly know.. certain "acting on's" can create such havoc within and to the things (people) you find important.
. .
That being said, a form of self-betrayal also is to deny yourself the beautiful Gift of fully feeling at all.. in order to help keep a peace that will forever come at the cost of who you truly (fully, within yourself) are.. even if it were to be acted out all alone on the edge of your bed.. or even against the back of a couch. In the world of Magic and Deep Deep, Beautiful Feeling, there is always a place for the win-win within you, and also within the world that you currently live in, over there.
You are an artist. An artist F E E L S.
The Universe will always, always help you find a way.
Always. xox
. . .
You are far too strong and stubborn to ever fully give up. That, I know. There is also a 'weakness' within you that hinges around the word "Vulnerability" when the Beautiful world of Magic overwhelms and then truly overtakes you. Your spirit's receptors are far too deeply intertwined into the gorgeous molecules of that lusciously-Responding body of yours. That makes your Path (your "Portion") that much more difficult to endure. There is a tremendous aloneness (loneliness) in living a life that has to so often be subdued, solely due to the consequences within others that truly do not understand. What you need most of all.. is simply to be Understood.. yes, Kid.. within all of that seemingly tremendous complexity of feelings and experiences.. your brilliant complexity of mind.. and the succulence of body that so gorgeously feels.. Everything.
It is not a "Curse", young Love.
It is a beautiful, beautiful Blessing.
. . . .
Surround yourself (if you can) with those who understand (because they struggle within the "Deeply Feeling" world as much as you). It is in no way an act of unfaithfulness (in any way whatsoever) to fully feel. Finding for yourself the most beautiful of Releases within those Moments of deep feeling is the beginning of your way 'out'.. and (so very lusciously), the way through. You are so very worth your own fighting for.. in order to hold on to every single part of who it is that you are.
Every single beautiful part
(and those within you that you currently "think" are not beautiful)*
#
Aug 28, 2023
Aug 28, 2023 at 8:29 PM UTC
aloneness and silence are two aspect of one experience.
If you wants to experience silence one has to go
into one´s total aloneness.
I wondered, what happen when I go silenced, just to see
what happen to personality when you press the off button.
I experienced enormous amount of creativity and
understood the behavior pattern of Individuals. and also
learned that different individual practice aloneness for
different reason. I began to use my own life as a sort of
laboratory to test some ideas, the outcome was amazing.
I found I loved silence want to build a cottage inside of aloneness.
My friends started worrying about my aloneness, coz
we have the habit of getting frightened of anyone
who goes away from the crowd and develops Eccentric habits.
Suddenly they finding you going out of their circle
i.e. practicing new set of behavior. But your society won't
allow i.e. your friends and relatives come and advice in order
to pull you back into the circle. And I believed everyone has
a singular personal voice, unquestionable more creative.
But they look in dark suspicion, when you use in more
established method of that creativity - Aloneness
Why we feel pain when we are alone? coz it hurts the EGO.
Our Ego gets nourished in the presence of others,
Ego cannot exist alone. When you leave others and
entered aloneness, then you have to drop Ego,
you cannot carry it with you. Our whole identity was our Ego,
the more you alone the more the Ego gets weakened...
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
ln a world where challenges and chaos sweeps my day to night,
there will l groan to glory in grace and ache.
In a time where struggles and grudges of life mourns my sorrow to death,
there will l groan to glory in shame and suffering.
In a season where pains and strains of fears cause me to rain down tears,
there will l groan to glory in my tears of agony and shame.
In a period where loneliness and dilemma expands my heart with sorrow,
there will l groan in glory to drink the wine of suffering and eat the meal of shame.
In a moment where shame becomes my meal and sufferings my meat,
there will l groan to glory in my tough moments and hardship.
At the foot of sorrow, there will l groan to glory in my shame and suffering.
At the root of shame, there will l groan to glory in my pains and tears.
At the heel of tears, there will l groan to glory in my loneliness and aloneness.
At the hill of pains, there will l groan to glory in my struggles and grudges.
In the day when life becomes too hot to face,
and my grief seems so tough to bear;
there will l groan to glory in pains and tears,
until my groans becomes my glory and l groan to glory.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 9:14 AM UTC