"annoyances" poems
Whereabout of the heart, where might it be ?
When fury is a feeling which engages your senses, your mind and your soul in a raging outburst of negativity expressed in adrenaline,
Everything seems to be one sided, a loop which only fuels your anger with thoughts of unpleasant, disturbing annoyances, making it harder
Harder to resist, until alike a super nova, you explode in a viscious rampage with knows no escape, so, where is the heart ? Where is it?
A tantrum might be encouraged to grow in size if it's revenge you seek, desire, want to live for to make it expire, with violent passion,
Mercy or compassion, forgiveness and simpathy may be forgotten, within the depths of your burning soul, lit ablaze solely by hatred,
You may lose your mind, oh beauty of a living existence, becoming alike a lily of murderous intent, spiteful, yet elegant and wonderful,
A shivering star, ready to take its opponent down with itself while destroying what used to be so precious, unique and simply sweet,
Blemishing the unconscious without thinking of patience or the chance to calm this nuclear meltdown, unfolding in tragedy for us,
The pure light of your praying palms might help in this regard,
Because his remembrance is what makes furious hearts become calm.
~ Umi
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 6:33 PM UTC
Owl listened to Goose's secrets
Fishy could always use a smile
Duckie flew into many a dream
Cat lurked when the sun was high
Bear always gave the best hugs
Giraffe knew the summer's joys
Chipmunk shared in equal annoyances
Yet, Goose befriended them all
Owl was wise
Fishy was mellow
Duckie was comforting
Cat was kind
Bear was understanding
Giraffe was a laugh
Chipmunk was encouraging
And Goose loved them all
Duckie, Cat, Bear and Giraffe all
frequent the same little niche
Fishy swims down the street
from Chipmunk's tree
Owl and Goose fly in similar circles
And where would each be,
without the other
Our animal friends,
Or one another
Jan 27, 2010
Jan 27, 2010 at 11:23 AM UTC
I forgot to pay my muthafucking mobile phone bill.
I tell ya, this week until payday is going to be some thrill.
The only luxury I have in my life is the information super highway on that phone.
I click on a land faraway, once the weirdos at my work start to ***** and moan.
I click on the browser and let my mind roam.
I get to type all over the world,
The co-workers complain about all the races they hate
while I don't say a word and go to wikipedia straight away.
I can spend hours reading about nazis, astronomers, and plants
I might just invest in ear plugs to stop listening to co-workers rant.
I catch up on gossip about celebrities I have never heard of,
and read about the **** they are doing to ruin their lives.
I go to Facebook, where a few people think my words are clever.
Lets me sever the pains of everyday annoyances.
Read about dreamy recipes I could make, and all the delicious pies I will bake.
Chat with someone who slept all day and is now awake in Egypt.
But like I said, I am without a phone this week.
Seven days to let my insanity peak.
Apr 13, 2010
Apr 13, 2010 at 10:16 PM UTC
What's one of your biggest annoyances?
Let's see...
When people don't listen,
When tables are turned,
when hearts get broken,
when it is I who gets burned.
It's always a game,
changing all the time
Never the real thing
Can't anything just stay the same?
It's like a mind ****
That agonizes the brain
Over and over again
****** the life out of my personal well being
I just want to stay sane.
Once and for all,
Maybe in time,
This too shall pass.
As you harvest your thoughts,
Who knows,
maybe this type of love could actually last?
So, one of my biggest frustrations,
Never staying on the same path,
Keeping me down in this hole,
Not respecting my desire,
You, the annoyance,
have corrupted my soul.
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 6:55 PM UTC
We have become static on the television
Ringing noises at random moments
Sore backs in cold weather
Knees that don't always bend the right way
Hair that doesn't comply to orders
Traffic jams in hot weather
Gum that has lost its flavor
The warm side of the pillow
Frayed shoe laces without purpose
We have let our lives
Become the trivial annoyances
The writers block accepted
Giving in to the frivolous empathy
We complain is everyday life
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 2:19 PM UTC
i’m the man who’s gonna wake up next to you
slipping away, a non-starter, her leg crosses over mine,
a right sided shakedown shackle, adhesion flesh as
tough as old yellowed scotch tape sticking stuck
no escaping, a known 6:00am risk when you sleep with
a pre-advertised holy roller, twist and turner woman,
making you into an unofficial woe-man (too)
left hand grabs the lamenting instrument, the beat up iPad,
to record your enslavement, a distraction from the bladder’s
faint morn winking at you with a Cheshire grin, muffling a
chuckle, at a predicament wonderful familiar, but unresolvable
this situation, a category of life’s small measure of annoyances,
invokes the wordy title, and a write-down list of pluses and minuses,
which I’ll spare which o’witch be the longer list
poems are where you find them, under your nose,
looking out a city bus window, but sometimes like flypaper,
they just come unasked and stick to you, the separating of the skin,
like a too tight bandaid, ain’t worth the pain and freedom gained
later, share this missive and her suggestion, she will prepare an
NDA (a non-disclosure agreement) or adopt other strategies like
pushing me out of the bed without warning when i am typing ,
to witch and to wit, reply,
ah!
another poem commissioned, and
*perhaps, name change too, needed,
making love in the morning*
12/14/19
Dec 14, 2019
Dec 14, 2019 at 1:40 PM UTC
On darkening red sky languish low clouds as if, smeared into existence by artists knife,
golden edged against clear red sky that transitions, upward to darker cover, void of light.
Horizon formed by railway bank black, sprout twig and bough silhouettes of bush and tree
still in winters mode, bud form begins, reach, mingling with power lines gentle bow
in the the distance assemble birds seemingly in motion slow, fly seeking places known,
their favorite safest roosts, whilst crying silently, seagulls solicit the close estuarys call.
Serenely and unusually silently a train glides into view, slowing, prepares to halt
at the nearby serving station, clouds, now red edged emanate in windows of carriages long,
through moving frames the scene so pictured then - with the last carriage, gone.
The backdrops reds darken as the unseen sun sinks lower to adorn skies new
and so draws in the waiting night, escorting pinpoint stars, finally kissing the day adieu,
Laughably today, so called ‘happiness day,’ today, where tiny annoyances
grew into frustrated rage, conversation nettlesome, tension nerves to stressful result,
Mentally I accept the guilt for letting me, yes me - down, yes - it is my fault.
Still, a scene like this.... calms my reality within, even so, the self incriminating roundabout
slowly, restarts again the anger of - my - self created weaknesses and futility.
Thankfully this darkening sky creates a serene oneness in which retire I,
the placid evening, now early night, calmness returns connecting me with this aspect .
regardless of this view a day indifferent, tomorrow maybe be a better prospect.
Spring Equinox Evening Michael C Crowder 21st March 2019
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 5:58 PM UTC
Tomorrow...Life as I know it will change forever.
I will no longer wake up to my cat beside me.
My mom will never wake me up at 5 AM with vacuuming again.
My family won't randomly jump on my bed to say good morning.
My mom will never run down the stairs to tell me something incredibly stupid that she knows I'd laugh at because I'm easily amused.
No more random "let's go to willy's" wake up calls. No more let's hang out today from my best friends. Skype will be the only time I actually see their faces for months.
No more driving to see friends just because I need a hug or a friendly smile.
My grandparents are no longer just 45 mins away.
No more berkeley bowl, random morning runs, or swimming adventures.
No more NFL street with my little brother.
No more loudly playing music and dancing like a maniac...because no one really understands that side of me except friends and family.
No more LA Ink with my mom...or laughing at boondocks at midnight.
When I cry...it'll finally be alone...instead of me isolating myself.
I'm realizing more than ever that I'll miss my chaotic life. The things that use to **** me off seem silly...I'm over the annoyances.
I love all of you dearly...and will miss you.
Its time to close my bedroom door for the final time...and accept that I'll only be a visitor when I return.
New life to come...new obstacles to tackle...
Finally time to accept that the only constant in life is change...and of course the people that help me do so :)
Once again...love you all.
The college student,
Rissa
Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 12:03 PM UTC
Where can I start?
How,
I'm don't know,
I got rid of all,
the problems,
the sadness,
the depression,
the annoyances,
everything was fine,
And you bring up all this **** back to the surface of things,
telling to someone who's clueless?
Without a care in the world?
Really?
I was done with all that ****
for something so simple,
Really?
I shouldn't even bother with all of the ******** that you put onto me,
just because you can't handle nor control it yourself,
I simply thought my world was finally balanced,
My guess was wrong,
Again,
Such ******* ********
Such a ******* liar,
Pure lies,
right beneath your words,
You really think you can get away with this,
I'll give you hell,
Make you suffer like I do,
I don't care anymore,
You can't tell me but someone else,
Oh,
Watch,
I'll give you a ***** *** attitude,
Since that's what you always say,
Better learn after I teach you,
my true self,
I'm just a *****
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 4:23 PM UTC
guitar riffs move cheap **** as she sits in corners.
shake that hair ever so violently I just might have to warn her
if she does it again, it is off with her head.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
The days grow longer my temper shorter
Houses are built of brick and mortar
Buildings collapse plants die and wither
The only flowers a’ bloom are ragweed and heather
This circle repeats on and on forever
What can we do to change?
To alter it in some way?
When light is closing and the day is done
We’ll ride towards the sunset on the open range
Home comes closer as the light is gone
At the end of the day one fact remains
Tempers still rise and cause great pains
Is it the change in seasons that causes the decline in civility?
Or are we so easily swayed that silly quarrels can ruin a family?
It is better to stop and think before we speak
Than wait until the havoc has been wreaked
Admit you erred when last your temper flared
Like a roaring tempest that resides once the damage is done
Speak up be heard your voice can be the one
That stops the chaos and quiets the shouting voices
And makes loved ones put aside petty annoyances
Loves forgiveness is stronger than any fickle fight
Resolve your problems before the sun goes to bed and you must say goodnight
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 1:25 PM UTC
She’s clumsy and moody,
thrown into a tantrum at the slightest annoyance.
But the annoyances are simple, childish,
a protective sister, times tables, chores.
She is outspoken and demanding,
there is no hesitation in her voice,
no doubt.
She has not yet questioned her world,
an effervescent world.
She is shielded from it,
allowed to live in a state of ignorance,
allowing her heart to languish in trust.
But I know what she does not know.
I know that she will grow up,
become cracked and hardened by reality.
I know her heart will ache,
and trust will become more intangible as years pass.
Doubt will cloud her voice,
and fear will lower her head.
Because no heart leaves this world pure.
Because reality leaves no one unscathed.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
The potential in the collections of seconds which crescendo into minutes in the clock of an outdated watch simmer furiously with their inability to communicate with their bearers and explain or at least signal that now would be exactly the perfect time to go and
just
do it.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 3:05 PM UTC
Just as eating is the test of pudding, we can't really do anything with our deliberately inward-flowing, draughty tears. Our residual, mushy, pathetic life is divided into three hundred and sixty-five tiny particles not only by Time or the calendar - but every day has that cheesy, almost shameful story to the core, according to which: we should adjust better to our alternate endings. Love ready to unfold would draw in vain increased comfort if there were no roots, seeds-germs left from which the whole emotion would sprout; why does the delicious roasted coffee, which we brew in the dim light of dawn, also have the smell of burnt *****
Because we must naturally inhabit the accumulations of lasting annoyances, so that later they can't say about us: "Well! This was also that kind of person!" As if the spiritual-physical connection had already - in many cases - finally come to an end, i.e. a person must always compromise with himself first and foremost, and bargain at the same time.
He often stumbles or gets lost in flooded jars if he is not paying enough attention, and because sooner or later the body also stretches itself towards the horizon of Nothing. The goals and planned ideas seem to testify to conscious helplessness; why should the disillusionment nicknamed permanent be skinned when there is still usable emotion there?! A state of voluntary death also outlines the order of the living, where they can go. From inside, the World already seems like a torn Band-Aid.
Sep 25, 2025
Sep 25, 2025 at 12:15 AM UTC
learn some UX/UI best practices
and above all the annoyances,
PLEASE STOP trying to be cute
with the perpetual edits
to the HP name
it's annoying
and distracting
from actual things
I want to read
thankyoumkaybuhbye
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 9:18 PM UTC
Once upon a time there was a little family in a little cottage in some little woods just beyond a little river. And in this little family in the little cottage in the little woods beyond the little river was a big person. They weren’t really big to look at, no not much. But they did big things with their big heart filled with big love for all the little things. But sometimes, little people hurt the big people, and they become little people too, and hide in their own heart, because there is no-one else’s to hide in. They try to look after themselves, wishing they could be a bigger person again. But they only wish, and wishing is a little person thing, doing is a big person thing. They want to stand up for what they need, but instead they get walked on, and they tire of this and eventually become narrow minded and smaller than even the smallest family in the smallest cottage of the smallest woods beyond a river so small it’s barely a trickle.
Petty things become important, annoyances become plague. Sometimes, the once-big-now-small people try to say it’s okay for them to be small, they did more for everyone in a minute of being big than a lifetime of being small could do, they think it makes up for it. But everyone needs to be big sometimes. Everyone can help another person in some way, even if it is rather small. Hugs are free, listening is free. And what if you’ve no arms and no ears? A heart is always free, rent it to people if they need a safe place. If they graffiti your heart, disrespect it, tell them you don’t like it, try again. Make effort, believe in them, don’t give up. That’s what big people do. They do little things with big love.
And if they keep hurting you, take a little time out, but don’t be little about it. Care for yourself, but don’t be selfish in your ways, still hold that love. And if right now they can’t learn from the love in your big heart or your little gestures and big meanings, maybe they need time. If you can do no more, do no more, but always believe in someone, because everyone can be a big person.
And I bet right now you’re thinking like a big person, thinking of a big person thing you did. Was it a few little words, a few little thoughts? A few little minutes? Did it make someone else happier, just a little bit, or at least help? Then you have a done a big person thing. And I also bet you’re thinking of someone who you don’t think could ever really be a big person, someone who did little person things to you and made you be a little person for a little while. And it probably makes you feel like a little person to be thinking like that. But that’s okay, just because anyone and everyone can be a big person, does not mean everyone will be. Those with little to give, still have something to give. Those with a lot to give think they’ve nothing to lose, and give. But sometimes, sometimes, where big people can grow a little person remains, no matter how many big people do big people things for them.
And I know you’ll hear this, compelled to be a big person. To do something nice today, ask someone how they are, or buy someone lunch, or give time to someone less fortunate, or even more fortunate, we are all as equals. But will you stay with this? Doing one big person thing sometimes is good, but imagine if you could do something every day? There are days where being a big person gets tiring, but your heart only grows to make room for more love if it’s needed. It is but one thing to feel the glow for a week, being a big person, only to become small again, it’s another to spend every day living as the biggest person you can be.
Remember, it only takes a little love to be a big person.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 5:57 AM UTC
It is in this hour,
as the exposure of day gives way to the intimacy of dark,
when all plans cease to matter
and the very air relaxes from reverberations of days clutter.
darkness smooths out the bumps of light,
softening annoyances
and lending much needed contrast to things that matter most.
We behave truest in our darkest hour
Feb 4, 2010
Feb 4, 2010 at 8:09 AM UTC
Some days I laugh at how childishly funny it was for me to write countless hours about you,
Some days seem to be filled with passion and troublesome that it was worth it,
It's oneself to say, that you were something I still think about more then ever but some days,
They seem to fade about into a blank piece of harmonic poetry to me,
Because of you,
My words of words have been announced as stupidity,
My true annoyances have been tempered with,
My exposed self have been interrupted with an mass of air,
Why,Oh,Why,
Have you made me a fool of a beast which freezes a thousand acres of grief,
The agony and atrocious hits of sensation,
I kid my shoulders as if a million daggers of betrayal have murdered me,
I am a lone wolf that stand silently in below 0 isolation under near a rough plait surface of sand,
Waiting and waiting for a pray or an other lone wolf to appear,
There are two paths and one way out of the bonded enclosure ,
These, Oh, These ,
Pretext of justification,
But I see myself coming back over and over again.
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 10:04 PM UTC
Listen friends and neighbors
As I do my best here to tell
Of some of the animals which
Reside in this jungle hell.
Some may look harmless
But can eat you all alive.
And many for no reason
Prefer you do not survive.
One is so horribly large
It can fall on you and end
Any chance you may have
To become its loyal friend.
It’s the smarmily gracious
Nearly total waste of *****
Cringingly contumacious
Pusillanimous pachyderm.
It blunders around the jungle,
Often the danger is crushing.
It cares not for little folks, it
Only cares where it is rushing.
The other creatures around
Are annoyances in its way
And it really doesn’t care much
What they might have to say.
Of course, there are donkeys
Of many different classes
But try as each of them may
They always act like *****
They bray but acquiesce
As long as they get their hay,
And do their absolute best to
Stay out of the pachyderm’s way.
And of course, the chameleons
Who cleverly change their look
So they can hide in plain sight.
No chances were ever took.
They hide among the foliage
And only come out to eat
And stay out from under the
All of the larger animal’s feet.
The pachyderms are herd animals.
They learned to stick together
So, few are clever enough to
Face them down in any weather.
But there are these little creatures
That use tricks and some tools
To take the occasional beast down
Though animals think them fools.
Then there are the tigers as well
And they must be well considered
Because like the pachyderms
They work very well together.
But they won’t often take on those
Huge beasts with the long trunks.
They are smart enough to choose
Their dinner in smaller chunks.
So, the lesson here is for you
To move carefully, don’t bungle.
It may look like a lush and green,
But for reals, it is just a jungle.
The beasts will make short work
Of humans whenever we weaken.
So, don’t walk blindly around.
Remember, it’s you or them!
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 2:07 AM UTC
Recently I've noticed
These easternly winds are blowin'
'N there ain't no use in holdin'
On no more... so let it go 'n
find that stoic piece of me
that finds peace in knowin'
The lowest poet on the totem
breeds off these heroics
The feast depends upon these moments
However brief at least I know
the beast in me won't go unnoticed
But until then... I guess it's famine
Rid my life of glitz 'n glam
'N all the hype that never happens
Get it right... the somber dampening
Of moods begins to shift gears...
So lift beers
And give cheers
To the silence of the evening
Blinding sirens creeping
Up the mile-high long ceilings
But liven up
I've said too much
Instead I'll lie here bleeding...
Alive and well,
Well, time will tell
I'll swell abrupt
I'm feeding...
Off all the wrongs
That made me right
This song...pause...(breathing)
Then proceeding, to the next verse
No chorus, just repeating
Of course there's an elephant in the room... and it's stampeding
A forceful tug of it's tusk to adjust
Its just a subtle shoulder shrug
Avoidance of annoyances
A poignant bliss so effortless..ly crafted off relentlessness
Overtired, restlessness
Just exists
The antithesis... is this the best it gets?
so rest assured
that lessons learned
from this existential messenger
may be best left unheard
Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 1:34 PM UTC
Twas the night, the night
I could not sleep, through
thy gentle eye, my iris's
would peek, and sing
a lovely song, that puts me to sleep.
A melody so charming, I think
It's time I dream, of all those
sheep, and they dance about
my head; 98..97..96....almost to bed.
Those persnickety little voices, just wont
hush up, it seems I can't find
the mute button.
Just my luck
© 2012 Christina Jackson
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 1:22 PM UTC
I realize now that we both meant well
We couldn't help the fact that our love,
Our Love,
fell down a hole to the black oblivion,
where it burned and disappeared forever.
It's true.
We both knew,
In out souls, and in our hearts, but our heads
Our brains were stuck in the routines, **** in there beds
of security.
Where no one, not even the person that kept telling me those vacant I Love yous
was worth loosing because for once,
For Once,
in my life I had felt secure, and at home, and not alone.
I couldn't see that through my songs, and rhymes, and lullabies
I was sending out a message.
A message that this was over, and we were done, and even though we had fake fun
we were acting.
We were good actors,
No one even knew that we were no longer the star crossed lovers, brought together by fate,
at a party, really, really late one night.
The couple that couldn't not touch when they were together
The couple that could flirt and laugh and play like no one else was in the room,
and the couple that said those three words with more heart, and truth, and vulnerability than anyone we had ever known,
Died a while back.
A good while back as a matter of fact,
but we kept acting.
Acting as though our lives depended on it.
Putting up with the opposites, and the arguments, and the annoyances ...
I can see that clearly now. I'm proud to know that I had found you and learned from you and taught you a little along the way. But for now I say good riddance, and good bye, to the fly on the wall
that I was always putting on a show for.
My wings are un tethered and I fly head strong into this whirlwind called life alone, strong, and more willing to love than ever before.
Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 10:04 PM UTC
Gazing through the looking glass, and attempting to reminisce, he lets go, relieves, and perceives.Colossi of raindrops subtly fall through sky’s shadows , violently battling the grey in great amounts, failing to come anywhere near the threshold of one’s most sensitive ear. Nature’s children appear to tremble as dark forebodings of a dreary future pervade the air. The danger and annoyances of such rarities is always given priority and significance. He misunderstands it; he believes in its false infinity.
Unable to stabilize, unable to achieve a desired normality. From every pitter, he regrets; from every patter he forgets. Forcefully drudging through the thick swamp of his mind, struggling to understand what and why, diminishing his hopes of any change, any desire. Suddenly, several elements collide against his one-way mirror in his cell and revitalize his consciousness. Looking through the droplet, his face pressed against, his mentality momentarily produces quick successions of thoughts and random impulses of recovering memory.
Every snowflake understands its place as sui generis; every raindrop understands its place as trite. The beauty of a snowflake with death, the dullness of rain with life. It’s uniformity and strict nature are necessary to sustain life, but somehow it places a bittersweet piece of an unusual feeling inside him. Its unexplainable transparency, disguising itself as invisible, but not untouchable, stimulates a sense of deep nostalgic hopelessness within him. As he discovers the profound pulchritude, and simultaneous incomprehensibility, of the paradoxical elements of natural and artificial state cooperating to achieve more of the same, he realizes more in this moment. The monotonous, repetitive beat of rain seems to harmonize in an odd manner with some contrasting presence.
A new rhythm to this sound, a new color to this sight. A particular emotion of gradually diminishing despair comes about as he observes little rain boots composing a sort of rhythmic song with the catchy beat of the rain’s clashing, the continuous flow of the tree’s trembling, the back-up percussion of the thunder’s loud suddenness, the sight of lightning's exciting flash, and the cheerful singing from their voices.Upon this feat, he accepts the shadow’s tears; no longer must he endure the pain of the past’s ********** of the future, now he begins to savor the varied colors of newfound harmony.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 5:50 AM UTC
your arms
wrapped around me
were replaced
by loneliness.
i feel now that i am not wanted,
but rather here,
a disturbance in the calmness
of your peaceful atmosphere.
my passions
have become your annoyances,
every word i speak
makes your eyes roll.
i've started to wonder
if it's you or i that's changed.
i feel like winter,
cold and unwanted;
sometimes like spring,
tremendous rainfall
on flowers that will never bloom.
i don't feel close to anyone anymore,
i feel like a quiet noise amongst ambience,
waiting to be heard.
but not everybody can hear.
how many times do i have to try
before you realize
you don't want me?
why am i teaching you a lesson
when you so badly
believe you're teaching me one?
and lastly,
who are you?
is it you that's changed?
you used to love me.
you used to take me as i was.
you used to treat me like summer mornings.
you used to be happy around me.
you used to appreciate everything.
you used to.
but now you don't.
and as spring turns to summer
and the flowers die out,
i hope you dwell on the buds
that never blossomed
for after all,
it is your ignorance
and my loneliness
that kills all life.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 3:24 PM UTC