"callously" poems
You weren’t listening to me
I know it to be true you see
Because you could not hear me
And not be in love with me.
I have told you carefully
What you have here in me
A person of total loyalty
And outrageous personality.
You could not have been listening
Because you were not hearing
The wonderful things I’m telling
And the joys that are here waiting
Waiting patiently and languishing
In the shadow of your evening
As the sun has begun lowering
And the moon has begun rising.
I sit in the shadows and I’m sad
Missing all the good times we had
Knowing something cannot be bad
When it has made me so very glad.
If you only missed me just a tad
I would be a much happier lad.
I fear our love was just a fad
And it’s serving to drive me mad.
I know you weren’t listening to me
Or you couldn’t behave callously.
You would be enchanted totally
And drawn to me quite helplessly.
Is it something else completely?
Some magic spell not from me?
Some disgusting magical sorcery
That drags you away forcefully?
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 9:32 PM UTC
You act callously crude
Like Cronenberg's brood
You keep the body horror
In the naughty drawer
I feel my body's poorer
So you convince me I'm rich
Then treat me like an itch
And scratch
To detach
You invited me to your chateau
Then left me on this plateau
For my beating heart exploded from my chest
Once I foolishly entered your nasty nest
There I lay
As immobile prey
My body was infected
By your touch
And my mind dissected
Way too much
You passionately present me with body horror
I really resent you for being a shoddy sawyer
Cutting me down but not completely
Your lackluster love travels obliquely
Dislocating my horrified heart
My rib cage begins to part
As my mangled love
Escapes with my blood
My fingers are breaking
Trying to carry the relationship
Happiness I'm faking
When you crack your elation whip
When I'm powerless to the *****
I become showerless in a hurry
And my skin starts to rot
While I lie on your cold cot
You're my unforgiving cop
And the horrors never stop
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 1:15 PM UTC
There is a fight
It is internal
There is a plight
It is infernal
There is no light
In this ******
There are many things people callously say
Like I'm the last person they'd expect to be gay
Delivered like a compliment
Burning like a sulfur vent
I have to remember not to say thank you
To save someone some discomfort down the line
When it's easy to let these sentiments internalize
You'll see this in the homosexual community
They don't face the hatred with impunity
Some call themselves masculine
And blame their plight on the effeminate
But no matter what
They'll still be called degenerate
So the community internalizes marginalization
Though this prejudiced stop is no original station
You'd think your own kind would allow vacations
From the population of an uncaring nation
That will never grant us any veneration
Because of the nature of our ***********
Yet we **** ourselves for their placation
There is hatred within
This hatred imprint
When we fractionalize marginalized groups
Into the "good" ones and "bad" ones
We say the bad ones are the reasons the good ones must be hated
Whether they're cops or criminals
Christian or Muslim
Gay or straight
We find reasons to hate
When we live our life in the grime
Of the negativity we've internalized
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 10:59 AM UTC
I have secret skeletons
That haven't seen the Sun
From things supposedly fun
Now all they do is make me run
Skeletons exit my closet
And enter my jury box
All of whom I've met
Then put behind locks
Now they throw rocks
Or find ways to mock
They are ruthless
Until I'm toothless
I face a skeleton jury
I face the skeletons' fury
They seek vengeance
Or perhaps repentance
I play lawyer in my mind
This job has become full time
And I must laboriously linger
Through skeleton stingers
Until my mind is rattled
By skeleton saddles
They come from my past
To shatter my glass
The skeletons are attacking
My bones are cracking
Under their weight
They are my freight
They judge me
And begrudge me
I made many moronic mistakes
I left laying at the bottom of lakes
Now they are at the surface
Of my fruitless furnace
Skeletons remain
Like a stain
I look across the plain
To see skeletal rain
Precipitated by my dumb decisions
Droplets make numerous incisions
Each one callously cutting me to the bone
Until the skeleton jury is my humble home
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 4:41 AM UTC
***** dishes piled peripherally
Melting muscles begging to be built
Education egging me on evilly
Facebook friends warning I may wilt
Clothes choking roomish rubble
Coldhearted clocks click callously
Traffic tickets to trouble
Prodding for payment perniciously
Feb 11, 2010
Feb 11, 2010 at 7:32 PM UTC
..
Violation seeps in through every pore
The girl feels like a common *****
As men poke and **** with joy
Manipulating their new favourite toy
They sneak close enough to callously drool
Then further, breaking the cardinal rule
She feels an unwanted touch
Then begins to cry, deeming it too much.
..
With a purse brimming with cash
And a covered sceptic rash
The pretty woman walks casually
Sheltering any notion of tragedy
This was her first day of vacation
From her new laid back vocation
Though if a client was to approach
She wasn't beyond reproach
..
Horizontally gifted
An archway lifted
Customized displeasure
In any kind of weather
Morals slowly give way
To the luxury of good pay
Loneliness takes a back seat
To those with a thing for feet.
....
Stepped in late
A darkened slate
Crippled by fate
And a desire to be great
She felt like a clown
On her long way down
Then she lost her place uptown
To the notion of a gown
..
Poor girl
She had quite the whirl
Had five long years
Which left a few souvenirs
One being a harsh complexion
and the other being a hollow reflection
Now she has the rest of her life
To wallow in the footsteps of a wife
..
Soon her son would ask what she used to do?
The mother would reply, to who?
Ashamed she would pace
Trying to save face
Confused her son would leave
As the woman ran off to heave
Sick from the thought
That one day she would be caught
..
Sitting at lunch
A bully prods on a hunch
Displays an image
Of his mother's visage
A picture of an awkward pose
Featuring the woman in no clothes
Others began to taunt
As the poor boy went gaunt
....
Over the years some would knock on the door
In a meagre attempt to score
A run in with a *****
Who would take it on the floor
Of course they'd all be turned away
But the pain always seemed to stay
It was shown in the light of day
To be many needles in a sole piece of hay
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 1:17 AM UTC
In tandem we took the jump-
Just you and me.
We weren't falling-- we were flying
We were free
Parachutes deployed,
and sailing were we --
somewhere towards the ground.
But an unsound wind whirled around,
and separated you from me.
now alone and unwound
but still sailing, you see.
sailing, searching, hoping foolishly--
while you hurtle farther from me
as not to be found
losing focus. losing hope.
and I can't see.
but you came back - just
to cut the cords of my chute so callously.
now falling,
not flying or sailing - not happy nor free
plummeting down, down, down
and you're nowhere to be found.
alone and falling,
no net to slow me down
no trampoline, no rebound
and you're nowhere to be found.
would that you would catch me,
but you make not a sound
so you leave your mark
a secret blemish --
nowhere to be found
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 7:14 AM UTC
I feel the warden staring down at me.
Is he staring at the furrowing of my pensive brow,
smirking as my thoughts churn endlessly?
Getting a kick out of these antsy lips,
Laughing at the wretch with flighty focus?
Laughing
at the reddening in my eyes
as a trembling, glossy veil surfaces? I’m done here. Leave me alone. I just want to
Focus.
The warden sinks his long, icy fingernails into my collarbones .
A winter frost crawls up my neck.
His wicked tongue slithers into my ear and poisons my potential.
My thoughts churn until they are on fire.
I claw at my eyes, and see my
Autonomy,
encapsulated inside a foggy membrane.
The warden callously twirls the key
to a world beyond my anxiety.
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 7:52 PM UTC
dear immoral,
salt
seed of
s
la
ughter
enticingly, affably, salt
compassionate psychic stimulates
the pigheaded exclamation
compassionate osculation stands
glove
gives callously
equally, nonetheless, equally
quarrelsome loving glove
a persnickety longshoreman
each persnickety biochemistry
is the
longshoreman cancerous?
A ambiguous certification
a stupid symphony
leads a wizardry
a road worker.
No content,
j
us
t web,
you
r bright face
is suffered with an imagery.
Bridge operator:
agile
computation
today, randomly ordinarily
ah! A
trembling
je
we
ler
confidant loves increasingly
languidly, sociably, spontaneously
Look! A poor ***********
perpetual on my
quick
bible;
my psychotherapy roves
into a
bleeding seashore.
Oxygen
tickles beautifully
boisterous, antisocial, odorous
Look! A quivering predisposition
the
psychoanalysis's
preferably quick
psych
otherapy-
how
ebbing it is!
It has the the depression snowed ordinarily.
It repels the grin into the seashore
a
punishing scream.
Cataclysm predicts perfectly
stupidly sensually noncommittal
unchanging rambling cataclysm
in t
he
unharnessing camaraderie
a perfect board
overshadows
his youth
so
that it is contemporary
grin
quick psychotherapies
I repel quick
this punishing kennel.
The chore
into appreciated camaraderies
psychotherapies rove in it.
A ink stick:
into appreciated ca
mar
aderies
psychotherapies rove in
my own gossip.
Dogmatic, unrealistic cliff
grip
of firefly
realistically, subtly, cliff
Situationist
on my quick bible;
my paralysis roves
onto a crazy seashore.
Situationist on a
journey;
my
paralysis ambles
onto a
crazy hotel.
A equality
onto procreation kings
paralys
is
amble outside of the kings.
Buzzard: omnipotent nullification
extraordinarily, perfectly, saintly
that buzzard is ambitious
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 12:12 PM UTC
She howls at the moon in the midst of the night. Seeking lost souls trapped and screaming in fright. Her cries play melodies of melancholy trials lost, her spirit stolen callously at a grave cost. Roaming the dense fog on hallows eve Watching the dead rise, I'm sure many were known to be wise. As she so gallantly skips past ancient tree's they whipser vintage stories about Victorian times and all its glories. Tree leaves construct reenactments of ****** wars riddled of death and destruction among differences of the people, only wishing to gather and come together at the church steeple. Her howls are searched among the hollow lands above makeshift graves of innocent people seen as second rate, not suprising of their final fate. Beings born with no guidence for a undeniable ratchet societies views, she howls as she hears the news. Her ravaged heart however battered still beats, I am She Wolf.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 6:44 PM UTC
She hardly was an early riser.
Life at home for her was hell.
Violent voices
and mean threats.
She wrote this on a sunny start of the week, monday.
The sun seemed to have been greatly amused at her wrinkled face.
Recently, she discovered she would release a ****
whenever anxiety or nervousness hit her like a dart.
Her daily life began by 4:30am.
There she was in comfort on her irregular bed,
till a sharp light hit her face
and a thunderous voice boomed her ear drums,
His foot steps made so much sound than his voice.
It was her father.
It wasnt his voice that struck her,
or was it the sight of a whip that he wielded so callously.
It was the angry look he always beared on his face.
It was almost as if he was angry with God for waking him up everyday.
Mixed feelings of fright and fuzziness gripped her
she hastily greeted
He didnt respond.
Her sister stood behind her bed
whimpering in fear.
Only then did she discover who the whip was meant to trash at that moment.
The night before
was a nightmare she have seen before.
Her ingredients failed her,
her attention
and her organization
towards the food preparation.
Her Mom hated excuses
Her Dad hated losses and bad soups.
Her promises flew away
Phone accessories became her get-away.
It wasnt the intensity of the funny smell,
or the intense awareness of the pepper and salt,
but it was the searing look her mum had.
Her mom must have mentally shredded her like cabbage, she thought.
Her mom wondered why arguements stuck in her tongue like a tatoo.
Most times she resented her awkward behaviour,
She saw life has an eazy game.
She thought mistakes were a part of our imperfection as human beings and hence should be constantly made.
She didnt understand why God placed her in that family.
Her mom would constantly remind her of the future
She could hear her voice in her sleep
Her mom would speak with her eyes
when her anger has reached a certain height.
Hereditry
played a role
in her usual condescesion.
The environment
played a role
in her usual sadistic talk and thinking.
Yin and Yang,
Cold and Hot,
the order of seasons
Either you can change
or you can not.
Such is the nature of Monica.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 2:25 AM UTC
Most cringe at the fringes of reality, mind-splitting dualities
tear apart what's known, but its a start to grow, a seeker, a
keeper of secrets you have grown to be, yearning to be free by
learning what has to be, but you dare not to care, to show the
divine glow, hiding by gliding behind the shadows, and now
twisted wits slit your mental capacity fastening locks that
casually create apathy, now callously you afflict, lifting veils
that trick, gifting secrets by sifting through weakness,
designating your self a genius, resignating your true gist with
lists of accomplishments that compliment your ego, letting go of
your whole creating a hole that needlessly creates your
deviousness of pure meanness that's created quite an inconvenience
to a once great friendship.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 3:06 PM UTC
I have raised hackles
And wear grey shackles
They're distractions in my brain
They kind of sound like chains
They hold me still
Until I get my fill
And secure myself
To endure this hell
You tighten the screws
I'm beaten and bruised
Please don't stop
You're like the cops
I depended on your aggression
Then shocked by your secession
I wanted to be shot through the palms of my hands
That was the most pathetic part of my plan
You called my bluff
And put me in cuffs
You took away my agency
And then exited hastily
You're just part of the chain of rain
That will eventually stain my brain
I wear shackles
I hear cackles
There's amusement they find
In the fact that I'm blind
In the fact that I'm crying
In the fact that I'm trying
My miserable life is a joke to them
They think I have a broken stem
They callously disconnect my links
So they can crawl through my fence
Trying to change what I think
Making me constantly feel tense
So I can be what they hate
That'll make them feel great
I have to restrain reactions
Throughout our interaction
They're looking for reasons to hate me
And ways to grate me
And deflate me
I must dial my love back
Before they attack
My mind must be restrained
In this life I'm engrained
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 5:01 PM UTC
aware of my depravity
pressed down by the gravity
kept down by the havoc it spills actually
it's sweet like a cavity
it'll confront you callously,
it'll tactically relieve you of your faculties
aware of my depravity
seeing how it got to me, seeing how it held hold of me
No plan of letting go of me, feeding me feelings of apathy
my demons parade me, pageantry , steal from me, give me fantasy
somebody send the cavalry, somebody take this pain from me
somebody save myself from me, give me back my captaincy.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 9:17 PM UTC
As I closed my door and lay down to sleep
A poem came and violently knocked at my door
Being late, I put a rein on my desire to admit it in
In my sleep I could hear the faint sound of a knock
In the wee hours of the morn, as I sat up to house it
scattered phrases and broken lines floated around
A crazy excitement made me trap them in ink
But nothing worthwhile showed up on the writing pad
I found I had only violated the virginity of the paper
After hours of spasmodic labor pain
What came out was a stillborn with no heart beats
It lay limp before me and all excitement died down
It’s still body, I found had closely resembled me
Something of me was there stamped on it
How could I who had parented it
Callously discard it in a dustbin?
So I carefully stashed it away in a secret place
Where no one’s prying eyes would ever fall over it!
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 8:25 AM UTC
Lips pressed gently
again soft
sweetly scented skin
the first flush
of spring
begging to be taken
it the tasting
of his kiss
teeth slowly grazing
untouched flesh
teasing the stone with tongue
from wetted peach
juice warm and sticky
drips from eager excited lips
in rivulets of pure unsweetened
pleasure
tongue moves faster
as mouth *****
hard
drinking deep each droplet
inhaling with each intake of breath
the waft of summer meadows
where lovers lay
and shared forbidden fruits
from scrumpied trees
as here
now
I taste once more
the heady bouquet of love
wrapped up in lustful
decadence
of greed and avarice
your pain my pleasure
your gift my gain
as spittle
from my or' excited tongue
mixes callously
with the spiced perfume
of your open petals
sedating only my thirst
but
not
my
hunger...
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC
that's how callously compassionate and vainly godly
humanity has become under the Oligarchy.
nice men and women of all five colours,
sitting around comfortably in alcoholic stupidity,
with their thumbs up their bums,
trying so hard to keep shtum,
about the undeniable fact that
they cant drum up a drop of ***
between them.
Seriously babbling religiously godly nonsense,
wreathed in smelly Tobacco smoke mimicking incense,
abandoning pretense at conscience,
hating empowering commonsense,
lacking all but nonsense.
with the mien of morticians
and the mendacious psychobabble of politicians
and the inspired madness of medical technicians
making badly placed cerebral incisions
and worst of all supporting
oligarchy inspired decisions.
About the "end of days and nights"
being put up for offers on the "free market".
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 12:37 PM UTC
This crazy conundrum has been conspicuously contrived quite cordially. Of course, one could concede this cordially contrived conundrum could carelessly conflate the countless quandaries causing quintessential quantities to question the conspicuously questionable conspiracy. Conversely, carelessly questioning conspicuously contrived conspiracies as cordially quantitative quandaries could create considerably confusing claims countering the critically acclaimed crazy conundrum so callously clarified as to continue to count as cordial. Consequently, with careless acquiescence, I must confess that the conceptually contrived conspiracy, so inconspicuously inconsistent, conflated considerably contrary quandaries quite questionably and continues to confuse the crazy quite cordially. To conclude, the crazed conspicuous conundrum confuses the cordially questionable quantities of conceptually countless claims clearly clarified as conflated quandaries continuously contradicting a considerable count of conspiracies.
11/2/16 11:59 p
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC
It approaches swiftly.
A monsoon of rain readily setting off
Naive natives and their tiresome routines.
Shutters shroud the windows with irrational security,
Sandbags too are placed; it must be a big one!
Clouds roll and tumble into position.
A sunset evaporates quickly,
Yellow to orange to red and BANG,
As quick as a flash of lightning it blackens.
Pure darkness, but for humanity’s scars.
Another scar takes their places
As a deafening crash collapses the eardrums,
Seconds after its divine light pierces the sky,
The soul and that artificial light.
Darkness now, but for lightning,
Blinding flashlights and candles.
Dewy droplets descend into view,
Dripping hopelessly through a silver fork.
Frightened faces too are seen,
Made more frightening by flashlight.
Rain, lightning and thunder
Can’t silence children’s cries
But can still awaken the waves –
Serfs turned warriors in an instant,
Harassing the horrified sandbags,
Overpowered and silenced.
The satanic storm battles on
Callously battering a weary world.
The sickening sun shines into the eye
And a torn green turtle begins to cry.
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 10:45 AM UTC
He dusted off the old rocking chair
& asked me to have a seat
He'd tell me what he was doing there
If I'd simply take a load off my feet
I found this gesture laughable
I would rather stand!
Then listen to another word
Uttered by this despicable Man!
But His confidence eluded Him
He knew I would protest
& yet I saw Him conceal a grin
At the denial of His request!
At this point, I couldn't even move
I could barely breathe
He acknowledged my discomfort, said,
"Very well" & took the seat!
As He sat there callously,
Scoping out the room
He said He just could not believe
The daffodils won't bloom!
This absurdity helped catch my breath
I quickly snapped to interject,
**** the flowers! **** this place!"
& turned to flee with great hast!
This made Him chortle with much glee
He barked, "Silly, girl, you cannot leave! I know you've known this all along, The Cottage is where your Soul belongs!"
I felt so angry I could cry
I hit my knees & pleaded: "WHY?!
I kicked You out so long ago! Don't speak to me as if You know!"
& this is where the story twists:
He dropped His grin & stood up quick
Now, controlled by His brown eyes
Forced to hear His every lie:
"I know that we have been apart, But that's no excuse to neglect your heart, & that is why I'm here again, to protect you from yourself, My friend..."
& that's the moment I lost my mind
To hear Him call me "friend"
As if His love, I could deny!
(So, instead, I was forced to pretend)
But He already knew my tricks
We played this game before
All this time Our stubbornness
Is the very quality We adored!
So, while He tried to lecture me
I quickly stoked a match
I had laced The Cottage previously
& dropped it on a kerosine-soaked mat!
& as I laughed maniacally
at the seconds we had left
To my surprise He grinned idly
As We slowly burned to death...
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
Someone slams your precious art
Remain Open
Callously pokes and prods your heart
Remain Open
The world wants you to close the door
Remain Open
Wants you curled up on the floor
Remain Open
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 7:14 AM UTC
A new introspection incited within this body of mine,
When he left early that one morning;
As I lay naked in the bed,
Wrapped within the white sheets
A gut-wrenching feeling irritated me.
Whenever I saw the bed sheet so tightly enveloping the bed,
It seemed as if the bed and the sheet were soul mates,
For they never separated from each other
This perennial intimacy was something I couldn't get,
Because what I did,
And what time made me do,
Was sit in the lap of a stranger every night,
And show him fallacious pleasure.
Every day, new people, new demands and new currencies
But that one morning was different,
As I got out of the bed,
I looked at the mirror,
The reflection of my **** body fascinated me,
Unlike most days, when I used to callously judge my body,
For the natural flaws that hid my smooth pale white skin,
That morning was different.
I kept staring my body for hours and hours,
It made me daydreamy,
It made me feel as if contentment finally knocked my doors,
I felt beautiful,
I felt strong,
And, and I felt perfect.
That one day,
I could see Aphrodite smiling,
Pandora breathing,
And Athena pondering,
It was my body
A harlot’s body,
There was no regret,
Just delight. Just delight.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 12:11 PM UTC