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M-E Jul 2018
I’m the nameless, nobody
Born of a nameless, nonexistent mum
And a nameless, nonexistent dad
In a placeless city
New in town and I don’t mind
To re-shape my mind
By a town that is so ruthless,
So thoughtless and -
I am feeble
But certainly in a new form
A new coming storm,
A cyclone,
A cyclops,
A mongrel
Decapitating your approval and pity
I’m glass, seen through and sharp
An undecipheral writing
Meticulously weird and uncanny
I’m a boy, a girl
A maniac,
A brainiac,
A pyromaniac,
A junior granny
It’s funny
Wondering why I’m the way I am
You sculptor -
I’m leaving,
Somewhere where I will not find you
For the bullied and the forgotten generation.

Can’t we find a solution instead of demolition, intentionally or unintentionally?
Anivel Aidan Sep 2018
sometimes i wonder if we'll make it -
after all the misscomunications that leads to fights
that leads to tears that at the end
always ends up with us tangled
around each other.

i swear sometimes my anxieties, insecurities
and monsters got the best of me
and turned me into a villain
and break his heart over and over again
"there's a thin line between
loyalty and stupidity"
i always tell him
but still he stays
and still he fights for us

"i do this because i love you. that's it.
i love you and your difficulities.
i love you because you're the best
thing that has ever happened to me
and i want to be with you forever,"
he says.

what a silly word.

at the end i do love him, though,
i love him with all my soul.
i can lie to myself and say that
it's better for him to be apart from me -
but i want him.

at the end of the day,
i'd still kiss his forehead and
hug him in his sleep.

i know i do love him, though,
because even in my madness
and carelessness
i still don't want to leave
and when i've upset him too much,
even with my stubborn pride,
i'd hug him
still mad
but walls crumbling by the seconds.
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Grains of sand along love’s shores
has called me back to life once more,
Ignited by the memory
of palm trees that float back to me.

With sweetened kisses in the sand
and dances to the Marley band.
Along with gracious friends to share
the best that life could ever bear.

Although now life is not the same
as that I’d known before the pain,
of love tossed out by carelessness
and friendship lost with all the rest

But life will not keep this one down,
I’m ready for another round
of fighting for a love to stay
and hold on for another day.

Now love can play its hand again
and take me to that other land.
Where love is all to which I cling
and with this love the dream it brings.

Of happiness and hearts made whole
created for someone to hold.
I have this promise made to be,
a secret made and kept for me.

So when that music calls to me
at last for freedom just to be.
With grains of sand between my toes
I have at last found me at home.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Tommy Randell Nov 2014
I, Now, Here, The Future, This Month, Next Door;
This Chair, The House Over There, Thus;
Sulphur, Spherical, Eighty-two, Angrily;
Brutus killed Caesar by stabbing Him.

Rules are sometimes broken. If I tell you
That and That are That, and That because There it is,
Carelessness leads to Referential failure;
Brutus caused Caesar to die.

Schizophrenia is curable;
It’s not true that Schizophrenia is curable.
The Key is in the box by the phone;
If that Man’s Father is my Father’s Son.

The tableau runs to unfortunate intention
In an attempt to form a logic of likelihood;
Windowless wrong meanings slide probably;
The needle must be somewhere in this room.

I have always been an idealist,
A closed tableau; therefore, inconsistent.
The constituents are then the same as before, except
The number march disappears; Brutus, too.

It is easy to generate bogus inconsistencies
By ignoring lexical ambiguities,
But maybe Truth itself with sword uplifted
Has degrees and blurred edges;

Happy, Expressive, Heavy, Unpleasant;
Square, Perfect, Smooth, Daily;
The differences lie in the emphasis alone,
Borderline cases and bizarre situations.
Having spent many weeks collecting 'random' numbers from bus tickets and etc they were systematically applied to shelves of books in my room in a pre-determined manner to locate and select words and phrases which I then assembled into this poem.
Sam Bowden Dec 2018
Shucking oysters is a dangerous task.
Only skilled, determined hands may apply.
Why so dangerous a task you ask?
Well, let’s see?
There’s the salt, the grit, the unforgiving need...
the slips, the stabs, the you and the me.
Our boats rock along a forlorn sea.

Sitting on the dock of my mind,
the sun's rays slap me sober,
as it refuses to set for seven hundred thousand nights...

Patiently present in the moment, I am, totally attuned to the task at hand.

She's anything but simple,
this complexly succulent woman I've stumbled upon,
Unearthed I have, with my bare hands.
Rugged exterior, jagged edges,
a clear warning for all to see.
But a gorgeous glory awaits the determined, the brave, the patient,
I have faith...

I have faith in such a glory beyond legend,
in such beauty beyond reason.
Just because something feels like a miracle,
doesn’t mean it’s impossible.
For if jade kissed a pearl as it slipped into the sea,
it still wouldn't rival her beauty.

We are a meeting of minds that could unfurl for all time.
As she lines her eyes in paint,
and stains her lips like crimson art.
She's always ready for war,
launching a thousand ships in my heart.

Like the Greek Odysseus,
I've sailed upon contentment's shore,
sipping your wine and eating your grapes,
now I only want more.
Eros, the bittersweetness, is clawing at my door.
I want to live with you in the gap,
between consumption and desire,
between winter's ice and between summer's fire.

Unknowingly I have,
peeled the wall paper from her frame,
where ancient tapestries shown from beneath,
a secret no man could keep.
The scars cut deep into the fabric,
marks of carelessness in love.
The family ties that tear,
the tears of lovers once here,
now there.

Warmth gives way to wind,
and fire gives way to need.
She pulls me close,
then pushes me back,
rocking along a forlorn sea.

And like the sea,
she breathes life into me.
A great roiling tempest of the heart,
with a fury that blows reason from the mind.

Tame, tame, squeeze...    l e t   g o.
Give it...       t i m e.

Still though,
questions fray at the edges of her mind,
and yet,
with the passage of time,
the sea will settle,
the tide will recede.
I have faith in love.
And faith in me.   

Sure footed I am, even as we,
not yet a "we",
dodging rain drops,
dashing through the city,
hand-in-hand, we don't slip.
I think thoughts, but bite my lip.

And while I sip, I think;
“She's anything but simple,
this dandelion seed,
floating in the wind.
Walls up, head down,
a determined doctor,
a surgeon steeled for the journey,
thawing beneath me she is...”

“The most beautiful immigrant I've ever seen;
On the platform of her mind,
she longs for a home, leagues from her homeland,
while I scratch at the dirt of my own.
Do I belong here?
Does she? Do we?
Where is home? Security? Acceptance? Belonging?
Who knows what the futures holds?
Allahu alam, not you or me.”

Uncertain of answers,
is this a mirage or a dream?
I can’t know for sure,
So I take heart in the Unseen.

I crack the oyster open,
and swallow it inside.
I sip life's ambrosia,
and breathe in the sky.

I'll crack The Pearl of Persia,
one kiss at a time.
An ode to patience in love.
i felt you
my arm
although my skin was cold.

in the
bliss of
our carelessness
we could feel
ourselves growing old.
Umi Apr 2018
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
Meredith Ann Jan 14
Monday was persistent energy and steady annoyance,
similar to the whine of an old motor.

Tuesday was venom dripping into sugar,
as biting words coated in carelessness stung in an unknown degree.

Wednesday was watching the cycle of the sky while paralyzed,
as my focus slips in and out of reality.

Thursday was inconsistent rain.
Violent, steady, refreshing, and cold.

Friday was heat burning behind my eyes,
mixed with paranoia and lethargy.
written 4/7/18
annh Sep 8
This morning I awoke with a cluster of words resting in the palm of my hand, my fingers tracing their gentle form like the decades of a rosary. On the tip of my tongue a song, a story, a fable of experience, existence, and eternity lay dozing.

There I floated between my inner and outer worlds, an exquisite confluence of wakeful consciousness and drowsy carelessness, until daybreak shook the last of sleep from my tousled dreams and my verses disintegrated like dust into the ether. It was at that moment, when the cool breeze through the open window intervened and the thrum of traffic in the distance drew me out from beyond the covers, that I lost my poem.

I know it will return: as droplets of rain on window glass, or as threads of loose cotton on a frayed cushion cover, in the rhythm of a lazy Sunday afternoon, or in the sigh of the ocean’s flow. All of these are mesmerising in their effect, some intangibly soulful, others enticingly tactile. All are enough to quiet the chatter of the quotidian mind and allow the delicate operations of the creative imagination to reign.

Only then, will I attempt to commit my words to paper...and you shall read them here.

Where do all the lost words go? Do they know their way home? Do they come with contact details attached? If not, does that mean they get confused and end up inside someone else’s head? Did I post your poem my mistake? Did you post mine?
Bob B Jul 26
She sits on the cliff high above us
And combs her soft flaxen hair.
Too many heed not the warnings
That urge us all to beware.

Her golden demeanor’s bewitching,
Her true intentions disguised.
Her radiance dazzles the viewer.
Onlookers stare, mesmerized.

Mellifluous sounds fill the canyons
And fill the heart with desire.
The Lorelei leaves you defenseless;
Nothing can put out the fire.

Vigilance dissipates quickly.
The sailor far too late learns
That carelessness leads to disaster.
The river has dangerous turns.

Sailors, beware of distractions.
Watch out for dangers that loom.
Don't be beguiled by enticements
That beckon you to your doom.

-by Bob B (7-26-19)
Ciel Mar 12

Remember when we were just kids?
When we used to dance in the rain?
without a worry and careless?
We did not think about how sick we might get
or how bad we would look with our soaked clothes.
We did not even worry about the following minute.
We were not worried about people watching us,
Hell, we did not even understand the notion of judgement.
we just lived in the moment.

The feeling of the droplets of water on our little faces
as we looked up at the sky laughing and waving at the clouds.
The movement of the water in harmony with our feet
as we tried to see who could make the biggest splash.
The happiness those little moments brought us
was greater than any menacing consequence
or possible future problems.

Those were simpler times.
Happier ones.
Ones I wish I could relive.

They are the ones we spend our whole life chasing after
without truly ever reaching them
we think too much,
plan too much,
worry too much.
So much so that we sometimes forget to live.

If you can,
hold onto that innocence,
That fearlessness,
That carelessness,
That spontaneity,
for once you lose it,
once you conform to the absurd idea
of growing up being a synonym of worrying more,
you will have this hole in your spirit
this hole left by the lost of
a feeling we do eve have a name for.
The Dybbuk Sep 2018
Was it a mistake?
Or rather, what kind? Was it,
Carelessness or recklessness,
That brought you to hit send.
It's like every time I start to think everything is going to be okay,
You come back and knock that down.
In person, or in my texts, or in my memories, or thoughts or this ******* stupid website where we confess the ****** things in our souls.
If you want to talk, I will.
But if you have said all you have to say to me,
If you don't want to be the best friend I once had,
Then do me a favor, and lose my number.
Because I can't keep being knocked down.
I can't keep lying in bed and holding the stupid clown I was raised with close and cry while it stares back at me without any ******* eyes and then be expected to wake up in the morning and go to the school where every ******* hallway reminds me of one of the times I made you smile.
I can't keep being spied on by my former friends, by the security guards, by my brother and by that ******* staircase.
I can't keep living in this ****** world like nothing is wrong. Because it all is.
It's all just wrong, worng, wnorg, gnorw, ngrwo.
kirk Dec 2018
When you decide to wash the car, make sure of your stability
Don't lose your footing, or any form of your own credibility
Some driveways are a dangerous place, they can be a liability
Knees get grazed through carelessness, but that's your responsibility

You've slipped down the embankment, you wasn't banking on a stumble
Coming into contact with the concrete, giving you good cause to grumble
Is it possible that your garden, has got loose parts that crumble
Or was it due to clumsiness, that made you fall and tumble

Water splashing on the car, but it wasn't that translucent
You ended up with ****** knees, from your unruly movement
Bucket dropping did not help, with your clean car improvement
I can't say that your actions, didn't cause us some amusement

We had a laugh at your expense, because your knees got scuffed
Spilling water on the path, is when your legs we're stuffed
You didn't look too happy, so I guess you wasn't chuffed
Because you fell, it'll be some time before the car gets buffed

One thing I will mention, we would not have seen you fall
If you didn't have that camera, that you wanted to install
But it has served it's purpose, cos we have seen it all
You was not completely focused, and you wasn't on the ball

Security has now been viewed, splashed water not in stealth
Is it worth the hassle, when you clean the car yourself
You don't want to trip and fall, and damage your leg health
Take it to the car wash, cos it doesn't cost much wealth

Your unfortunate leg scrapping, we hope it was not deep
But we nearly ****** ourselves, when you fell in a heap
We laughed at your misfortune, it almost made us weep
Cleaning cars come at a price, when it's done on the cheep  

Some Ideas are valid, and most of them go far
Set backs are not wanted, make sure that your on par
Be aware of your surroundings, if your washing the car
Trips around the garden could result, in a blooded scar
Based on a true story
Brandi Dec 2018
I resolve not to have any in 2019 and many more years
Until I forsake the rebellion and child-like carelessness
These promises are only broken


I am tired of duct tape solutions
Time to figure things out like aged cheese does
With age comes experience and a few new sights
The wonderful, good, horrible, and everything in between

So I resolve to not resolve

© 2018
Brandi Keaton
Leia Spencer Jan 30
I thought you were the fire that could warm my frozen heart
I took care of you
And tended to you
To keep you going as long as you could
I thought you would keep me warm
and take care of me too

Instead I ended up getting burnt
Charring my fingers on your carelessness
Singing my hair on your obliviousness
And In A Way, my own
Because anyone knows that when you play with fire
You're asking
to get burnt
-a former pyromaniac
Don't look at the world through rose-colored glasses. If you do, the red flags just look like normal flags
Cheighny Feb 2
I am what I am.
The wavering question mark at the end of the nervous inquiry.
I am the final drops of dandelion wine that grace your monstrous lips as you scream at me for being empty.
I am the first drag of your cigarette as you blame the stars for your twisted fate.
I am the silence after the collision of your fist to my cheek, the stinging of my eyes and red stained skin promising not to fade until the morning after.
I am the sunflowers you left on her grave last winter, long forgotten by both you and time.
I am manic love and screaming intemperance.
The final burst of carelessness as you run to the cliff’s edge in an attempt to mimic Icarus.
I am the intrinsic bleeding of burning star-crossed losers.
I am a universe of exploding stars, unanswered questions, and questionable prayers.
I am the throw of a ticking clock at five am after hours of restless insomnia.
I am going 90 on the freeway at midnight with the music just as volatile.
I am the shudder of anticipation.
The relentless ache for more.
I am Jane Doe.
I am oblivion.
I am freedom.
I am what I am.
Feedback/criticism is always welcome.
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