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"botheration" poems
I became your favorite obsession I wondered if my last hour had come. I am not alive until you called, In an hour or two my cell phone becomes as hot as I am. Take me, break me, I can’t be obedient, I want to feel whole again… without looking over my shoulder. Oh my wounded and troubled heart My soul is in deep anguish, Without this forceful conquest Within my eyes, jealousy wedge deep Because of my self-critical thoughts, My early rejections, my feeling, thoughts and action: Our grandmother’s words came to be fulfilled “An old fashion botheration,    My indulgence from my past, This led to an old fashion romance, That wasn’t resolved then or now. Take this kiss from my lip And in return take off your glasses and let me see your weary eyes You are not wrong, my jealousy is a disease If life had be kinder to us, I would have been yours, And you would have been mine. I would have been the slave to you, I stood by the window, and stare down at couples walking by holding hands and I thought about them and I think about us: Making further plans and I waved my hand to them and smile because love is a lie. heart of darkness encounter of lies I have paid my dues, I settled my tithes. How can I tell my heart to stop loving him? I became his favorite obsession, now he’s mine Take me, break me, I can’t be obedient, I want to feel whole again, my friend My wounded and troubled heart, My soul is in deep anguish, without this forceful conquest So why do I weep in my sleep? My God of refuge, what was the hidden truth? I played with fire, and now I am burnt.
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Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 5:40 PM UTC
Take me, break me, I can’t be obedient
I became your favorite obsession I wondered if my last hour had come. I am not alive until you called, In an hour or two my cell phone becomes as hot as I am. Take me, break me, I can’t be obedient, I want to feel whole again… without looking over my shoulder. Oh my wounded and troubled heart My soul is in deep anguish, Without this forceful conquest Within my eyes, jealousy wedge deep Because of my self-critical thoughts, My early rejections, my feeling, thoughts and action: Our grandmother’s words came to be fulfilled “An old fashion botheration,    My indulgence from my past, This led to an old fashion romance, That wasn’t resolved then or now. Take this kiss from my lip And in return take off your glasses and let me see your weary eyes You are not wrong, my jealousy is a disease If life had be kinder to us, I would have been yours, And you would have been mine. I would have been the slave to you, I stood by the window, and stare down at couples walking by holding hands and I thought about them and I think about us: Making further plans and I waved my hand to them and smile because love is a lie. heart of darkness encounter of lies I have paid my dues, I settled my tithes. How can I tell my heart to stop loving him? I became his favorite obsession, now he’s mine Take me, break me, I can’t be obedient, I want to feel whole again, my friend My wounded and troubled heart, My soul is in deep anguish, without this forceful conquest So why do I weep in my sleep? My God of refuge, what was the hidden truth? I played with fire, and now I am burnt.
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Floating on restless waters, tonight, broken moons breathe in waving clouds; Time is a colander, through which life escapes, never to return; Yet tonight the beanstalk remains tangled; I sat watching swans in the moonlight where the canal and stream met; Rock the boat! Peace is a botheration. Could the road that diverged loop back to the fork? Walking backwards, tonight, leaves and assorted bits of paper fly forward; After the off-licenses close, someone's dashing for the last bus before dawn, running in reverse; three hooded figures lost in the cemetery, walking backwards; The moon weeps tears of mist, that ripple spreading inward in the puddles after the rain; There's a weeping firefly crawling in the sink; Or the kitchen-lamp? Bubbles die to the siren-song of crickets. Is there is an Ithaca fabled?
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Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 3:17 PM UTC
Walking backwards
*I've cut our connections and burnt my poor illusions and tempting provocations like eternal frustrations for such hopeless situations gave me a lot of delusions and lessened reservations to hide my expectations and lamest inhibition like a huge botheration to one whose intentions has faded into oblivion and nasty desolation.*
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Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 12:56 AM UTC
Intellectualization
Exams are full of Botheration Dad asking Explanation Mom's high Expectation So let's make Resolution Quit Education And Start Cultivation Jai Jawan Jai Kisan
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Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 2:01 AM UTC
Start Cultivation
Somethings better left unsaid Some debts of heart should never be paid Shades of darkness of eyes Shouldn't be washed off with lies Better its left to burn inside Instead of extinguishing it by assuarance tide Damages of time heals anyways What is the need to cover up with stiches There is no buyer to pay off for truth Is that bargaining what it worth!!! Faking yourself is the new trend Sometimes its better to be blend(with trend) Sleepless nights never compensates the pain Still heart desires to be tied up in chain Mind often plays trick with heart To wrap it up with hidden fact Dealing with scars always turns out ***** All that what it want is, a little bit of pity Ripped off emotions never need skin To multiply dearer's deliberate sin Freaking out is the ultimate destination Why there is matter of botheration Nobody cares anymore and memories merely fade Somethings better be left unsaid.....................
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Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 12:40 AM UTC
Somethings left unsaid
Growing old is scary for some And a blessing for others: We have live our life: the best way we know how here we are all alone, We are now living under different change of the body Walking around with our portable therapy for instant energy Long time ago it was portable cassette or CD player with two or more loudspeakers: those horrible double decker’s Now it’s problems of blood circulation. Dozens of useless prescriptions, Directions that read take three to Four times per day So once again Moving forward with all kinds of botheration to Another slower lane to nowhere Last but not least Keep out of reach of small children Before you reach the Dead End Street
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Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 7:42 AM UTC
Growing Pains
Since memory has been logged inside this whirl wind of thought I have struggled with this inner angst Only those who have suffered from its botheration can comprehend Invisible nuisance that affect every aspect of one's day Vexation of every nerve that runs through this shell of skin It can begin with the simplest trigger Small agitation can seem like a complete catastrophe For me it begins deep with in my skin, starts to manifest as heavy breathing, feeling as if I am going to jump out of my own skin Ants racing over my body, every tendon tightens every muscle begins to take on a life of its own. Only able to focus on the disarray of my mind, every outside influence sets off a string of grenades that explode on who ever is there at the present time. Never discriminating on its target, wiping out every thing in sight Uneasy in every situation A mind blowing affliction of the worst kind One that can only be felt inside out The mind begins to run a marathon Endless possibilities of conclusion to each situation Pondering every mistake, every  choice over and over Unresting, unsettling, unnerving Unable to stop fixating on each tick of the clock Each tiny sound of  a pin dropping on the cold steal floor So much of this will eventually drive us insane Break through the glass house built around this mind and heart Peace is the ultimate heaven Escape from one's own mind.
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Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 3:38 PM UTC
Inner Angst
Hmmm... Hmmhmmhmmm... Hmmhmmhmmm... Hmmhmmhmmm... Whether you come, Whether you come or don’t, I shall survive, Yes I shall survive. Whether you come, Whether you come or don’t, I shall survive, Yes I shall survive. Whatever be the distance, Nothing is a botheration, You are connected to me, I am imbued in your veins. Whether you come, Whether you come or don’t, Then I shall thrive, When I shall thrive? What fun will this life be, If I spend it sans you? What life is such a life, Such life is a punishment. So you should come, And I shall finally live. Yes, you should come, Then I shall survive.
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May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 12:52 PM UTC
I Shall Survive
The fire is burning within me Unable to drawn out Unable to elude. It’s getting evil With all your annoyance. And I’m crying out loud Seeking for your presence, Part of me wants to destroy you And a part of me wants you back. I’m lost in the path of love, And no more halcyon. I’m screaming out your name thunderously In the desire of your presence. Retrieving all our boneheaded conversations Thinking what kind of squander I was doing. I’m preoccupied by telling myself Not to give you an opportunity To break my heart again. As I’m taken away from all your botheration towards me. Well ,There’s so much of me inside Which you left undiscovered. Perhaps you were never curious for me. And I was being the one running after you constantly. And keeping you firm with me. But now. I’m dying I’m hurt. While, You’re diligent in watering Someone else’s flower.
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Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 11:45 AM UTC
The fire is burning within me
Heeding the hum of clock machine that devours the time; second to second, minute to minute, year to year. When the sunlight diminished as the gloaming night breaks the sky, as the distance perpetually gets further, as the Moon revolves around the Earth, as the lapse between today and future erodes, as the soul of mine remains unmoving—enfold self in this room still.
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Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 9:06 AM UTC
Botheration of Time
(20 minute poetry) The underground found a sound when your ears start to pop, I have popped several pills seen the seven hills of Rome all hail to the Pope but he wasn't home. It's easy to let the mind wander on these tracks when I'm under the ground. stacked up like planes on the flight path some jumbo and some rather small next station along and the tube carries on nothing much matters at all. I'll get there to my destination in the here and now or it could be the when then I'll hop off and oh botheration tonight I must do it again. Out of the way the land of the free votes today. and now I'm rambling but that's no surprise 'cept to the lady who's sitting on the opposite seat you should see the look in her eyes. Priceless harmless enough and in the vernacular some would say 'Buff' stuff that and them here I am now and when was a long time ago.
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Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 2:20 AM UTC
Sidecars