"carelessness" poems
There are traitors in the castle
Hypocrites and liars
Spreading rumors, keeping secrets
Lighting silent fires
Pacing in the bedrooms
Quiet in the halls
Sneaking after midnight
Conspiring behind walls
Pretending to be royalty
Called themselves "king and queen"
Throwing out words like garbage
Not saying what they mean
Not taking time to think
Just playing a silly game
Betraying flesh and blood
not feeling any shame
Full of carelessness and greediness
But acting so sincere
Watching with fake smiles and laughter
Ignoring every tear
Throwing "traitors" in the dungeon
While deceiving on the thrown
Punishing those "committing crimes"
Not looking at their own
There were traitors in the castle
Hypocrites and liars
Bargaining with enemies
Igniting silent fires
Now there is no castle
No whispers in the halls
Nothing hiding behind doors
All that's standing are the walls
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
There is no such thing as a child of an alcoholic. There are children, and then there are alcoholics. One will never harmonize with the other.
Because alcoholics are never parents. They are shells, empty casings of love mixed with a burning taste of whiskey.
They are echoes of slurred, “Goodnight, I love you.” and “See you in the morning.” Each word filled with love, but blinded by the haze of liquor, so strong it fills your eyes with tears.
But most importantly, a child of an alcoholic will never be a child. No matter their age, they have gained the experience of those five times their age. They have watched life end with each tip of the bottle, but begin again when the sun breaks through their window.
I read stories about children who spend their days without a care in the world. And as a child, I wanted nothing more than that for myself. I wanted the carelessness, not the impossible burden of responsibility and secrecy that I held, hand in hand with resentment and hatred for the people who raised me.
There is no such thing as a child of an alcoholic. It’s not that we don’t exist— we do. But a child will never be a child when their parents can never be a parent.
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 9:24 PM UTC
"I could
tie a plastic zip tie to my wrist
real tight until the veins pop out
just like a blood test
when the nurse
ties your arm with a rubber band.
All so that i could pull a blade
from its dull rotten scabbard,
purposely rusty but very sharp
and slice right through the plastic
into my pale green flesh.
Make it look like an accident,
An act of carelessness,
A fools play time with plastic and knives."
Today was the first time,
in a very long time,
to re-entertain dark mischievous
thoughts.
Thoughts on taking what wasn't,
isn't, and won't ever be
Mine to begin with--
My Life.
It is owned by,
represented with
three circles:
Red, Blue, and Yellow.
But it,
I,
was never fully accepted,
almost shedding tears
in a cell full of strangers,
strangers i somehow knew
but
Strangers all the same.
What got me through
was a hopeful bubble
that at each day's end,
I'm reincarnated into a different world,
A virtual one,
Escaping my past life of which I am residing in.
An assasin running through rooftops,
A lone wolf learning to survive in a fictitious world,
A super soldier shooting bad guys all night long
Or straight up controlling the mind of a completely different being
(Thank the heavens for video games).
But this is in no way
A solution.
It is temporary,
not an end
to a new beginning.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
It still smells like human iron in your pool.
There's a crack in the concrete where the bullet stopped.
It still smells like human iron by the side of your pool, there's a stain.
I still can't find where that bullet went.
I always thought that your "love" of the higher life was overrated.
Nobody ever talked about how great it is to be rich as much as you did.
Even though you talked about it so quietly, most of the time.
You spoke a lot about Daisies.
I'm more of a Lillie type of person.
There are a lot of people in New York, Gatsby. Too many people in New York.
New York only needed you, Gatsby, but it looks like New York didn't want you anymore.
That's not sad though, is it?
Carraway's book is like gold. I bookmarked eight of my favorite pages in it with yellow cigarettes. I'm too afraid to smoke them.
When your old mansion was bought I expected to see you as a ghost in it,
you weren't there.
That green light across the bay isn't there anymore, it's red now.
I believe I'm sleeping in the same bedroom you once did.
You aren't one of those ghosts that haunt a house, you haunt a human concept of want.
I wish I'd never bought your house.
I'm going to tear this place down. Along with Nick's old place next door.
The memories here in these empty, furniture filled rooms, are unbearable at best.
Of course they're not my memories, but I'd be a familiar person to you if you knew me.
I smash and break things, and then retreat back into my money and vast carelessness.
Farewell Jay Gatsby.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC
With a body wrapped in a crimson dress, she bears a violent temper.
Shining daylight, raging bewitching, captivating cunning.
You arrive with starry eyes and cheeks flushed like a ******
In her curly hair, autumn curtains hang—roaming rays hot.
She glows in the night like a pictorial wall with hieroglyphics concealing madness.
You step elegantly, but you're a dangerously stealthy predator.
Grassy hills in floating flames burn beneath a voluminous haze.
Her look describes fabulous waterfalls, endlessly flowing and shining in the coming dawn. You associate with robbers and kings, but they do not understand, and no one will save you.
Lovely eyes sprinkle enchanting rays, her lips intertwined like a rose petal.
Her heart enticingly calls with her fruit to be drunk.
You hide in the nightlife, dress up, and do your love magic.
Neck fashioned in autumnal garments, wearing scarlet ruby earrings.
Her pink skin smells of perfume, inviting like a grape on a vine.
You invite visitors with your charm to carelessness, forever forced.
Her lips are flowing bewitching rivers—intersecting strokes of crimson. They bring a dream to taste her deep soils and her artfully carved forms.
You are determined to captivate without marrying— you stay lost in rebellion.
Sep 25, 2023
Sep 25, 2023 at 6:19 AM UTC
me and gaming
I sit down the hard day of work and lead is behind me now. Sit in my throne and grab my controller. I get on the war zone with my gun in my hand 20 vs 1
I put my mic on. the rules to the game 1 life 20 vs 20 error players lost. Just what i was hoping for.
"There are 20 of you, and only one of me yo... ""
"you gonna give up noob?"
"You didn't let me finish, you should've brought more players."
Then the blood bath starts as bullets and bolts fly past my head in a symphony of violence
and in the slit second when the strings break and they must replace them I emerge from my cover “one shot one **** thats all you got” not time to waste I run and gun taken 'em out with a head shot. Only got five its time to reload. next I hear a tic but no tok look to my left and what do I see glowing blue light slowly creeping towards me no i can’t be. I make a run for it straight for a cave with my heart racing next to me, cant find the others stating to get scared. wait up there guess who I see a ******* ****** waiting for me. he has yet to see me so lets take advantage of this. I take out my pistol aim for the guy and let his brains reach for the sky. but do to my carelessness I step on the only mine and it was game over. I bow my head in shame look at my screen and think.
well off to Minecraft.
were the everything is a block and I’m a king and control my destiny and by a swing of my hand I can destroy and break anything i wish but also with that swing I can create build and make master peaces. And as I’m claiming the Hill Of Sorrow where my hell lives I take a leap of faith and dive straight into the belly of the beast with my sword in hand and armor that shines with the wrath of one thousand white hot blinding suns of hateful furry. all i wish is one thing to get my **** back from last time i was here. I charge and get my left foot wet or should i see get it set on fire because of the lava river i missed.......FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUU.
well off to soul caliber.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 8:25 AM UTC
I've grown tired of being there for you
To hold at night
When your mind
Suppresses your faith.
There for you to conquer
When you feel powerless.
There for you to love
When you feel generous.
You've stitched me up
With the thinnest of strings
That threaten to unravel
At the slightest touch
And you're anything but gentle.
Your carelessness keeps you unaware
And your incognizance renders you useless.
I've grown tired of holding you up
While my knees shake and quiver.
And I've grown tired of pouring my heart out
Into your impermeable hands.
And I've grown tired
Of growing tired.
I think I'll rest now.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 2:14 AM UTC
Utter defeat,
Bleeds like poison,
from these futile tears,
Carelessness,
Is all he has to offer,
Closer to the door,
With every second,
My words,
Can no longer hold him back,
I know I mean nothing,
From the moment he leaves,
I carry the weight,
Of worthlessness
Oct 9, 2011
Oct 9, 2011 at 12:18 AM UTC
Kumasi, the Tree City,
The Kingdom City with a divine eagle
Standing bravely on a mighty stick,
The unquestionable love that embraces
The soul of the arch enemy,
The tradition that swallows
The ancient courage and modern pride,
Kumasi, the Tree City,
The mighty city that lies under
The flying wings of the
Beautiful Okumanin tree,
The golden city of the Western Sudan
Planted by the arm of the Almighty,
You are truly the dwelling
Abode of unity and majesty,
Kumasi, the Tree City,
The echoes of your ancestral spirits
Do not sleep nor slumber
You that provides a comfortable
Seat for the grandson of
The almighty Krobea Asante Kotoko,
The modern pride of the great
Ancient mother of Yaa Asantewaa,
Kumasi, the Tree City,
The great son of the vulture,
Otomfuo Osei Tutu, may not
Appreciate your present
State of modernization,
For you have surrounded
T he Golden Stool with
Carelessness and filth,
Your crime rate has swept
Away the memories of
The great Okomfo Anokye,
Kumasi, the Tree City,
Oh, the inhabitance under the protective
And motherly wings of the great tree,
The Ayoko kingship deserves a clean land,
This great city must regain
Her serene and inviting sweet-scented
Greeny and stable environment,
For mother Ghana has always
Pride herself in your glory and dignity,
Kumasi, the Tree City,
The precious eye of Asanteman,
Never deny your former glory,
Oh, the pride of West Africa
You still have what it takes
To be the Garden City of West Africa,
You are Oseikrom indeed,
Okumaninase, the capital city of Kwaman,
The heart of the Republic of Ghana.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:25 AM UTC
Start with a bowl of laziness
And some lack of motivation
Mix in with some carelessness
And a ton of procrastination.
Add just a pinch of dumb
And just one dash of cheap
Prepare for what may come
With a profound lack of sleep.
Keep cold for a month
And don’t forget some mean
For now your recipe is done
And will shatter all your dreams.
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 8:27 PM UTC
step back, correct your own mistakes
respect our mourning, don't deflect what you'll regret in the end
you haven't only disrespected us, you've neglected taking into consideration my fathers wishes.
take care of us
being unaffected shows your carelessness.
cause' we won't stick around forever, now remember never bring another man into this home.
Its your house, but our home.
why can't you ask yourself, what would dad think about this
he is gone, but not a moment is forgotten.
you've crossed a line, you can't come back from.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
up and down the east coast
in a cheap used Honda
sunshine, clear sky
fuzzy AM radio
windows down, cool breeze
no sense of direction
road signs and carelessness
take place of a gps
no contact with the rest of the world
empty highway
scenery all around
laughter
an adventure?
nothing matters but this moment anyhow
not the next minute
nor the next hour
nor tomorrow
we're not in New York anymore
"Are we there yet?"
there is no "there", yet
no pictures
only memories
make it last
Rest up sleepyhead
You'll need it
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC
Lipstick so red on lips so blue,
Shadows so black on eyes untrue.
Puff of smoke huffed to the air,
Swirling amorously around the lady fair.
Lust is dancing with natural ease,
Hips sway to and fro - what a tease!
Hands beckoning at night's affair,
Fingers snap with passionate flare.
Words whispered with carelessness,
Hearts shielded from tomorrow's mess.
For tonight lovers cling for security,
Such solace found in darkness' infidelity.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 5:53 AM UTC
This monochrome life is nothing without your light.
The colors pour from your finger tips as you frolic about.
The carelessness of your touch creates new brilliance.
To tame you would be detrimental, but to free you would be exquisite.
They try to hide you away and hinder the beauty
you could create with their monochrome ideals.
Monotone voices and monochrome people,
surrounding and clustered
to catch a glimpse of such a sight is like
watching the soft sun light trickle through the tree tops.
The beauty you are able to expel is like no other you love in spite of everything else.
You shed your light on the cruelest of nights.
Paint the colors of life into everything you see,
and strip away the melancholy of everyday routines.
So happy so lovely so free.
It's time to color our lives withe the beauty of of our imagination...
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 5:34 PM UTC
White foam drifting, turquoise waves swaying gently
to the shore. Looking out to open endlessness. Feeling
insignificant and vulnerable, yet relaxed as the sand
between your toes massages away every pain.
Carelessness fills up your rosy body as heat heals
your bones. Dancing overcomes you as you spin alone
on the crest where sea and land embrace. Your mind
is finally blank in thought and peace settles throughout
the delicate shades of the bright blue horizon which
is reflected by the sun deep down into your soul.
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 12:15 PM UTC
To death in love!
The eye of ones heart closes for their beloved, their most precious treasure of them all clouded by emotions stored for them deep within
Unanswered love leads to a stinging mind of the subscocious, caught and rose by a burning ember of feelings, turning into an inferno,
Blinded by it, they will not acknowledge the falsities of their partner, nor their mistakes or even their treaciousness, as for them he is perfect, conciously imaged as the ideal and the best they ever had,
But no! God forbids, they learn about the art of blinding love while they sink to the bottom of a sea of passion and affection, in a last remote of a courtain call to simple yet manifest carelessness,
Small lies lead to grand falsities overlooked by a noncaring closed eye
Rekindled in a dream they rather follow their instincs than the truth,
Illusions cast by embers of love deep within the unconcious, like a courtain to be blocked from all light, holding on to dear of what is loved and cherished, praised and adored, an emotion leading stray,
The philosophy of a hated person, would be to never close the open eye of ones heart, so you fall not too hard when you begin to love,
But when all falls apart, realisation is like the thorns of countless roses
It is the heart sign of selfless love.
~ Umi
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 8:52 AM UTC
When I saw my bones
Protrude
From the knots of my back
Like the ridges of a dinosaur
Sapped of food, singed with
Stress
A childish distress
Fear darkness
Blankness
Terrifying emptiness
When I saw my back protrude like the
Ridges of a dinosaur
I saw my body dressed as the
Skeleton I will one day become
I saw a vessel controlling a brain
I felt like a bottle of tequila drained
Such fun until it's empty
Used to the tip of uselessness
When I saw my back protrude like dinosaur ridges, a skeleton
****
The most terrifying thing I felt when I saw my back protrude, like the dinosaurs I coveted when I was small,
The rudest thing I felt was
Satisfaction
With it all
I felt more beautiful than I ever had
Maybe
Ever will
Felt satisfied at the neatened carelessness I
Had almost used to **** myself
Satisfaction
That my body curved in
Only bones, no fat or muscle to
Hide the struts within
Revelled in the hunger in the pit of
Stomach because no one
Could control that but
Me
You can't fail at starvation
I loved it
For once I couldn't fail
When I saw my back protrude like a dinosaur
I knew I could never go there again
Because the living dead feel only
Hunger
Chest pains
And fatigue
And dinosaurs ate whenever the **** they wanted to
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
covered in flies only the letters KYLIN ILLE were seen. ripped corners of grease, caved in drooping. the way the ants ran, weak to the prophesied speaker. gathered around the mushed manifesto, soaking extensively in the intrigue of carelessness. Ravishing.
Only by the absence of thought could I stumble onto the moments before the drop off. a blurred glance at the road, a swipe of unclean against deep blue. easy strides and a weighted spine. in the vacancy of worries a quick glare to the sun, a double checking of unexpected, brisk anger.
Your slip n slide fingers, loud mouth cowards. faltering in the responsibility of a finished task.
Down dipped merry words of toxic proclamation, viewed by your carefree t-shirt, openly believing it has all the time in the world before it splats against the static concrete
and spoils
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 5:48 PM UTC
i'll admit it
i'm just trying to score some prozac;
something to supplement the steroids
that never seemed to ease the pain.
my body never
tolerated
anything they gave me:
all their alcohol distraction,
all their **** carelessness,
all their acid lifestyle,
none of it.
as for ecstasy,
i never got the dosage right:
i've been offered ersatz masterpieces
and turned them all down,
so they sacrificed their snatches to other gods,
who happily and hungrily partook in the
appetizing, dangerous bounty for which there is no cure.
i was once appeased for my lust
and committed love crimes,
so i learned not take ecstasy
until i tried the steroids.
i'll admit it
i'm just a pair of eyes
in a white ocean
May 3, 2011
May 3, 2011 at 1:46 PM UTC
When I think back to the past, my memories seem to blur together as if I have spent twenty one years on a non-stop merry-go-round. Ups and downs, too much to take in at once, the people you love only a splotch in your spinning, ever-changing field of vision. You wonder how long they’ll stay, leaning over the metal railing separating them from you; you wonder if they’ll call out to you until they become hoarse…but no one stays for long.
You think it’s fun and harmless until the carousel stops and you realize you’re the only one left. You clamber off the platform in a drunken stagger and wait for your mind, still caught up in the whimsical whir of charisma and carelessness, to catch up with reality. Eventually your thoughts slow and your vision steadies. Everything comes into focus. It seems eerily quiet compared to the cacophony of conversation and carnival music that was swirling and intertwining in the air just minutes ago.
Now there’s silence and you’re left to contemplate your past…and your future. This is the reality check, the wakeup call that sends so many adolescents into a panic; an early mid-life crisis if you will. Twenty one years spent so quickly, so carelessly…only eighty more to go.
And you can only wonder, “How will I waste those?”
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 10:08 PM UTC
It's been so cold lately,
causing blizzards of ice to break some promises.
These snowy endeavours are embroidered with a pure white lost lust,
hidden behind a mirage of warm sunrises,
which remind me of
spring
is where I found you,
hidden away behind a curtain of my carelessness
and amongst the budding flowers, I discovered a hidden gem between your smile.
It glittered like the sun and caressed my ego with flirty innuendoes;
we laughed with our eyes and touched with our voices,
captivated by the city of love whilst captivating each other.
Though, the days grew longer leading to
summer
is where I loved you,
but hadn't known it yet. I ached for your company as if it were air,
filling my lungs with your scent; memorized and mesmerized
just as easily from your bright eyes and small lips.
The long days mimicked the long nights that seemed to keep us inseparable
like how the wind kiss the leaves everyday until they
fall
is where I fell for you -
hard, building up my heart with hope only to bruise it black and blue.
But how ironic could it be that the seasons changed as quickly as your mind?
It's been as cold as the days doomed by early sunsets
which could only mean
winter
is where I lost you,
yet the worst part of all seems to be the frost
knocking at my window every single night
just to remind me that I should have left you
behind in autumn.
gd
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 6:45 PM UTC
1. the memory of his smile in the summer when we were sad but happy, broken yet whole, and somewhat okay
2. the smell of coffee in the Barnes and Nobles on 42nd street
3. The Catcher In The Rye
4. hazel eyes that torment me but still make me smile
5. Seconds of Summer
6. vanilla ice cream
7. carelessness
8. poems that give me faith in humanity
9. Twenty One Pilots
10. my friends
11. inside jokes
12. hope
13. "we were wild./we were beautiful./we were free.
/we were lost, but god, we were free."-(a.m.)
14. the color blue
15. delusional ideas
16. thinking about the future
17. food
18. cold nights
19. Ed Sheeran
21. bear hugs
22. sarcastic jokes
23. sleep
24. him
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC
She was an angel
But I turned her into the devil
With my lies
With my carelessness
With my anger
With my hate
I set fire to a flower
And was shocked
When the flower
Fell in my lap
And set me on fire
All the flower needed
Was attention
And love
And effort
And everything I wasn't ready
To give
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 1:12 AM UTC