"braindead" poems
I think it's sad where the poetry community has been going.
It seems as though deep, dark poetry isn't considered "good" anymore.
I wrote a "poem" called #Hashtag as an example of how braindead some people are becoming. As I write this, it has 44 views while the other 25 poems i've written in the past 2 weeks have max 23-ish views. I think this is completely ridiculous because poetry for me was once a place to escape the modern day stupidity and revel in the intelligence of literature. Now all I see are poems about computers and "some chick left me so I banged my side-chick". I cannot even begin to describe how much it bothers me that my poem "#Hashtag" has more views than my poem "From the Benevolent Ashes, We Rise!". It's absolutely appauling. I don't even know how to end this rant so it's going to seem abrupt but I can't continue right now or else I'll end up even angrier at poetry.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 2:14 AM UTC
A perturbed philosoper perches precariously atop a pedestal, preaching in poetic prose of the pernicious pitfalls of man's avowal to avarice; as a braindead banker bellows "BUY BONDS!" and boasts boisterously of his brand new Bugatti.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
I originally wrote "its funny" as the first line
however I dont think
its funny
I started liking you far too long ago
and I got stuck on the Argo sailing
in sorrow under the statue of Rhodes.
I started writing a poem a day
just to impress you and I realized that
i only ever impressed myself
You like our car side conversations
maybe because I keep good company
or maybe because you were actually interested
in the hopelessness that
I am.
I start to make you a black hole
and I am past the event horizon.
Sunlight only escapes through my words.
My open lips meet your parted sentences
cut short by the warmth of human breath.
I made you into poetry
but I should have followed my sisters advice
and not smashed you into my poetry books
I should not have swirled the words of your
glassy blue eyes into golden threads
binding ancient books.
Thats where I went wrong.
I cared to much.
Our path wasnt a lambda where two paths meet to make one
we were an x
bold on the page but
only crossing for a mere moment.
I dont regret any of it. I just wish
you knew that I meant all of it.
Pretty poems
and movies on weeknights.
Masquerades hiding our feelings.
I never even asked where you stood.
What your mask meant.
What it was hiding.
I showed up to the ball dressed like art
and you were cinderella
waiting for her prince charming.
I shatter glass slippers.
and arrange the fresh fragments into
an ugly spectacle
of futility.
We are schrodingers cat
locked in a box.
Im just afraid that I am pandora
and that the hope of us died
when I observed the radioactivity within.
Cancer cells on skin
you called them cute moles.
I guess I kinda just wanted you to be mine,
and I always knew
that
Good guys
stay stuck at home
watching star wars box trilogies.
Dreaming of their Leia.
Id rather be George Lucas. I think.
This stopped making sense to me the moment
That I decided to make it about you
so Im going to end it
here.
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 8:00 PM UTC
Waste paper & ink
via corporate endeavors—
no doubt noble.
Vicariously sit still
or swivel around—
Oh, corporate freedom!
The aircon's never felt this
cold,
the coffee never this
expensive (& free, but
a mirage is a mirage.)
the elevator never this
wild & brimming with life.
Braindead oblivion
is a natural high.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 1:42 PM UTC
Out of the womb into the microwave,
transforms you into a mindless slave.
Diet soda, chips with dip and a bucket of KFC,
sit next to me.
Black holes for eyes absorbant as a sponge to the colors in view.
The colors come to collide,
To whisper a message to my mind.
A message consisting of anime girls and talking animals,
not what people would call manly,
but it is a guilty pleasure,
so spare me the commentary.
So as I was saying,
I lay unmoving,
Licking my greasy fingers like a fat ****
strapped down to my living room chair,
whilst the colours penetrated through my eye hole,
cutting deep into my soul.
******* out my mother ******* brain,
clearing reality out and washing it down the drain,
The conditioning from the wash has left me braindead,
painted a picture I don't understand but I will remember what it has said.
Phosphers,
of dreams and wonders,
grab me by the hand,
and whisp me off to wonderland.
It takes me,
Like a reaper,
out of my body,
to an obscure,
reality,
painting a picture,
fantasy.
Living in a world of simultaneous information,
Crawling inside and taking away my perception,
everyday,
a part of me is taken away.
They have,
Taken my eyes, so I can't see
Taken my ears, so I can't hear
Taken my heart, so I can't feel,
Taken my mind, so I can't think.
Out of the womb into the microwave,
transforms you into a mindless slave.
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 4:46 PM UTC
The feeling of neutral,
Is bleak and bland.
For I cannot fathom
This life of random.
This feeling of doom,
It is present
Yet seldom.
It is static
And paralytic.
I feel erratic.
Yet I am calm,
Content.
But my mind,
Unresponsive,
Perhaps braindead.
My sanity,
Decreased
To the thinnest thread.
As this feeling of neutral,
Has emptied my head.
Nov 18, 2023
Nov 18, 2023 at 3:35 AM UTC
We started out being cheap,
but being impoverished eventually saved us...
It became a fad,
almost everything did.
Whoever had money,
would spend things to make themselves more connected to the singularity,
more tapped in.
We were all suffering from information addiction,
looking for our next fix.
Likes were a thing of the past,
we didn't just want digital affirmation anymore,
we needed to feel more powerful.
Of course this was just something we created in our mind because we saw others gaining this perceived 'power',
of course if you can,
in your mind,
research,
copy,
paste,
spellcheck
- everything a computer could do,
you would seem more capable of a human,
but in reality,
once you left your mind's energy up for just processing power,
you were nothing more than a machine...
some of us let our minds go entirely,
favouring searches and what is already known to fill in the blanks for our own exploratory research.
Mods weren't cheap.
But so many people were willing to pay for convenience.
- mods help us think,
they can schedule our lives.
- certain ones are just cognitive enhancers,
basically a microcomputer that knows which electrical impulses to fire in your brain for improved cognitive functions,
muscle controls or even releases of certain chemicals (serotonin)
- Others are just things like ocular mods (contact screens)
- Viruses are terrifying.
- New wave of humans who choose to be 'fed' - near braindead. Enabled to know made unknowing,
allowed to follow,
sometimes the struggle is necessary.
Reporter
main character either snaps back into reality or
overpower systems with willpower
she sees past the hiccups of self
and knows how to command the bots
break it down, robot girl,
make the demons dance for you,
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
braindead beating heart,
blinking thought and sleep
universe in floating
deep above what commonplace
people call tired–
think not of
screaming.
(undesire is flower)
for just the moment
understand me:
a coma where period should be.
lost in fluttering
senselessness of song,
you can’t realize anything
but human misinteraction
and lack thereof.
settle spinning,
(organize)
this life is once only
afflicted from the
get-well-soon-ness of bed.
you might as well think:
we have all the time in forever
to procrastinate once we’re dead.
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 5:58 AM UTC
I've always had those moments
when I seem braindead
but really I'm just overthinking
a passed or impending situation
Making two-star dramas and slasher films
I'm the silent victim
that should've saw it coming
in my soothsayer premonitions
Wish I could drop a bag of bones
and let them come up with
the mood I should be in
These small woodland animal spirits
prancing around my world
tell me what's life's deal
and sometimes make me fearful
when I'm in a badly lit room alone
It's not the dark that gnashes
but that which most wants the light
As if, life is about burning your hands
on many light bulbs, 'till some source
slurps up your essence and you're stuck
finding the portal to the next level
fighting and collecting dragons on the way
fighting and collecting dragons on the way
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 10:51 PM UTC
I
Does reality scare you somehow?
I know what it does to me.
Dreamless, braindead,
mocking me like a Prophet to the past.
And I ****** up.
Jul 22, 2010
Jul 22, 2010 at 9:53 AM UTC
I was broke as usual it's okay I understood that far easier than I ever did being well off.
Long as there was a bottle and a room I could crash in I was good.
I never cared to gamble.
I lived my life that was a gamble enough
My money i preferred to be wasted upon myself not given to a fixed game played by overpaid children.
The only sport I ever loved was fighting.
I understood you against another.
In life its always you against the world.
I loved to fight even when you lose you know you've lived
I had stepped between those ropes often.
Paid the the price for a simple mistake and been knocked flat on my *** for it.
Boxing is a human chess match very few men have what it takes to go toe to toe with another.
Anyone can fall down it takes a man or mental patient to keep getting back up.
I had paid my dues broken bones multiple concussions between that and all the ***** poured into my skull you think I would be braindead by now.
Some would tell you I already was.
And those people would be like most full of **** speaking on things they know nothing about.
Critics come in all forms.
Don't worry over there opinions nobody ever worth a **** sat on the sidelines.
I had nothing to show for my years.
I could barely get moving some days.
But when the drinks hit me right and some young **** called me out i still had that spark that fueled the fire.
Never take **** from.anyone no matter how tuff they seem.
Anyone can get caught anyone can bleed.
Remember kids its not what you can dish out.
Its how much you can take and keep going that makes you tuff.
I wore my scars like tattoo's.
Everyone of them had a story.
I never believed in luck.
I just kept going no matter what stood before me.
If I depended on luck in my life.
I would be up **** creek for the rest of my existence.
Never stay down no matter how easy it seems.
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 3:22 PM UTC
It'd be easier to go dumb
Braindead for fun
Explore comfortably numb
In a rarely clear cranium
Wide open space for wild thoughts to run
But now for the unforseen repercussion
Situation recognition
I can ONLY run
No place to hide, not a single one
Wrestlin' fear and confusion
With an empty win column
Lost it all, never won
Disproportionate portion
What's been done,
Can not be undone
Sit with the problem
In complete isolation
The expectation?
Come to some useful revelation
The pressure feeds off the anticipation
The anticipation breeds a host and parasite type immersion
But reality rushes in with it's own complication
Breaking then adding it's own tension
Followed by a surge of logic and reason
As I,
Yet again,
Come to the same conclusion
The sum of all my fears run the asylum
And I've been locked in here with 'em
A casualty of my reality inside a broken system
©2024
Mar 6, 2024
Mar 6, 2024 at 7:45 PM UTC
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Your body wants to
Go a mile a minute
BRAINDEAD!
SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) October 1, 2014
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 9:26 PM UTC
Shattered heart, bleeding soul, braindead.
Paralyzed to the haunting, you imprinted on me.
Blinded by your crimes, making me believe its me.
Deaf to your abusive remarks
I am insane for returning.
Lost the sanity of love.
Incapable to let go of
Insane for believing hate for love.
I am insane for thinking this love I deserve.
Lost the sanity of respect
I really loved someone like that?
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 1:10 AM UTC
They pulled out his eyes, because he had seen
too much.
They blew out his brains, he must have
known too much.
Blind and braindead was their thought
now it was reality.
And they cut off his tongue
for he had said too much.
When you think, not know, you act as if
the difference fades, the first will go, let that sink.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
an important object in your
but what do you
what do you do?
I guess I'm just regular
no special what now now my pen works no special can't say I lost all of the what was I what I was aiming for put it through a prodigal massacre with what I did what did I do?
Tonight we never got lost although the way had changed but the black lines raced before the pen's tip could reach them spinning we glazed over the stars and the blue light on the street and just found
What did I do?
I sat for hours on the brown velveteen couch while people faded on and off of it next to me and the cat meowed I sat for days
and realized I hadn't eaten so we put garlic salt in a *** of water and let it sit for about an hour and then we thought and then we went back to the couch
Where did you go?
I saw a picture of you in the inmate list and when we went to your house all that was there were three months of bills and a stray cat hiding in the garage I'm not sure when a live man is better or what exactly the difference is
everybody thinks of the braindead fondly
This whole night
I tried to think of something while I couldn't find what it was what do you do?
What did I do I CAN'T REMEMBER IT ANYMORE but it was all the same fuzz of a full brain roving rambling spilling over sometimes into my body when it found instruments there for an ugly music
WHAT WAS YOUR QUESTION I live like it's an easy thing to do
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC
skin like a frozen chicken
tired eyes
and a voice like smoke
braindead
unwashed
and you tell me a joke
wanting to laugh
but deep within
a thought of death
troubled
exhausted
so save your breath
a kind soul
with smiling eyes
in good health
you can't get to know me
how can I know you
if I can't know myself
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 7:28 PM UTC
Have you ever been to Nomansland?
It's full of smiles, laughter, dread and dearth
Of any repercussions
If you're Russian or a serf
On a wave that leads to everything
Tho nothing you want first.
Come on down to Nomansland
And quench your nagging thirst
Tired of your burden, want to rest your restless mind?
We have trenches, dumps, and valleys
To poor thoughts of every kind
Relax, space out, while those thoughts race away
That's right
Shut up
Sit down
You have no choice but to stay!
Forget your problems
Lose your worries
Ignore your friends
And family too!
Let your pain slip away
With your ecstasy in suit!
Look at everything, see nothing, through your eyes of faded hue!
That's right
Little lost soul ...
...there is no real you.
Once, in a stupor,
Long ago, through the grime,
Another came knocking here
Searching for their mind.
They were blissful,
Vacant,
A customer served full,
But for one little thought
That rattled round their skull
"I want... it... back."
Back?!
They must have lost their head!!!
We examined it extensively:
It was perfectly braindead
Everything in order, we couldn't figure out
Where the clanging came from
When we jiggled them about
No matter, don't worry
It's of no concern to you,
We're usually successful
When we stir brains into stew.
Just relax to the ditty of our unlive band
I'm Noman by the way,
Welcome to my land!
Jan 13, 2022
Jan 13, 2022 at 11:59 AM UTC
I've been wanting what's not for me
Doubling over while standing
man down, don't tell my mom
Detachment is my go-to
Talk too much, lose my sight so fast
Smoke in my nose
For the first time I feel it
I'm braindead, can't think
Maybe it's what I've always wanted
Tell me I'm MisUnderStanding
Showing chants to endure another day
second session better than the first
Old man on my TV, don't fight evil
Die me don't
Charge me more and die me don't
My 20 pound Docs carting around a disaster
"sweet cakes and milkshakes," she said...
Remove my love and I'll be free
As wacky as I want to be
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 7:33 PM UTC
I am a compilation
Of complications
A station on the radio
My radar too tuned in
Hearing too acutely
My feelings too wild
Chaotic
It's not your fault
But is it mine?
You stand there
Letting me taste you
And
Leaving me
Here
Wanting more
Feverish in my attempts
Stumbling over my
Braindead heart
It's not my fault
But is it yours?
Sweet, yet bitter
So well seasoned
I have to dull
Myself
Too much too soon
Wanting
Impatient in anticipation
Of another coming and
Picking
You
Up
It's not your fault
But is it theirs?
"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone"
But don't fly to frequent
Don't fly to near
Burns will appear
The wanting is toxic
The passion
Too fervent
Fearful
But still there
A constant
Itching
It's not my fault
But it's all I am
Overflowing or bone dry
No in-betweens
Hot or cold
In a lukewarm
Scene
Consisting of consistent
Changes
But unfaltering
In my wanting
To never
Lose
It's not your fault
But I'll blame us both one way
Or another
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 6:29 AM UTC
your tongue
was all over
me
when i realized
i didn't want to
**** my friend:
but i'd never felt
your skin on mine
so closely, i felt
braindead, you
had been my
romantic interest
for two weeks
already
and there we were
******* in your bed,
so i asked you to
be with me
while i came
between small
breaths and moans
and you said yes
and then we
****** some
more, fell in
love a little
more,
and i'd
never been
more thankful
of speaking.
Jul 21, 2017
Jul 21, 2017 at 12:51 AM UTC
Nattering **** head of negativity
Birdbrain, half-wit *****
Can’t count on to get on
Ever a nerd twerp blockhead
Braindead- can’t follow a single thread
Instead
Dance to the strings of your puppet poodle
You’re boring attempts are feudal
You’re as appetizing as a ten-day-old strudel
Square head, *********** yoyo, bozo
Backhoe cargo
Exciting as bread dough
Rising
Not surprising
That I’m so despising
You’re constant attempts at upstaging
Left me
Utterly disengaging
Your raging
Left me
Utterly disengaging
Your blaming
Left me
Utterly disengaging
Your constant contradictions left me
With a drug addiction
I’m not blaming
Just saying
Praying for the end
But wait
Why all the hate?
What hate?
Isn’t the mirror
Reflecting the interior
Can anyone save me from my nightmare?
Scared
That must be it
I mean me.
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 1:24 PM UTC
Unwavering hope, in the face a dead hole
All your thoughts are bullet points,
Shooting through our broken hearts;
And all our hearts are bullet proof,
When we are joined in a state of love, you can stay where you are.
You are stationless; we are unmoving and motionless,
In our ardent belief that you are becoming less and less.
Why can you not understand the evil that you are?
We are the innocent passer’s by, running in fear of your gun.
If all we are is soon to be gone and you our last red star,
Then I hope you have a peace of mind, a better life
And a way to cope before you are done and we are only found afar.
We are the innocence of youth, broken in two by people like you
And all you have is already ashes, broken pieces of war on classes.
War on man and woman kind;
War is all that is on your mind.
All we ask is please don't shoot;
Please don't let us end up like you,
With your braindead minds and lack of kind;
You have to hide, from your own cruel conscience.
Never let it be said that you are only subconscious,
Because here you stand in front of me now,
And all I ask is why and how?
Why take a life so easily?
And how are you so different from me?
For all I am is humane and helpless;
All you are is death and worthless.
Who decided to let you go?
What was the price of your worthless soul?
What is it that makes you think you are right?
You have no right to take a life.
So find a place of peace and leave it be.
Just leave; just leave and let us live in peace.
(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 2:26 PM UTC