"circlejerk" poems - Hello Poetry

It's true, I usually don't know what to do What if I'm not around long enough to follow through? Never know if my way or the highway is the right way What did that sign say? Will it be possible to recognize this impending last day Even if just a day before it's referred to as "Ah shiit, is that today?" This is foul, Where do I go and what do I do now? And just because I know what to do doesn't mean I'll comprehend the how Who in their right mind could stand here and say they could handle the architecture and atmosphere of so many types of conflicting fear? Who's the stranger with the black soul looking back at me in the mirror? I wish it was clearer But there's never a gene around ever Take note that not every question has a viable answer While some answers only raise more questions after filtering through questionable ********** banter That's why there's a little manic in the laughter And a wave of panic soon after ©2024

0

Feb 15, 2024

Feb 15, 2024 at 3:48 PM UTC

bettsjc187

~•§•~ Conflicting Fears ~•§•~

It's true, I usually don't know what to do What if I'm not around long enough to follow through? Never know if my way or the highway is the right way What did that sign say? Will it be possible to recognize this impending last day Even if just a day before it's referred to as "Ah shiit, is that today?" This is foul, Where do I go and what do I do now? And just because I know what to do doesn't mean I'll comprehend the how Who in their right mind could stand here and say they could handle the architecture and atmosphere of so many types of conflicting fear? Who's the stranger with the black soul looking back at me in the mirror? I wish it was clearer But there's never a gene around ever Take note that not every question has a viable answer While some answers only raise more questions after filtering through questionable ********** banter That's why there's a little manic in the laughter And a wave of panic soon after ©2024

18

**** this isn't poetry just some badly disguised prose as I lament while presenting unclear images of a black rose clearly a red one won't suffice mostly because an "altered" state of mind surely my ineptitude stems from this vicious and cruel world whose inhabitants have no interest in accepting their inner humanity it has nothing to do with my inability to clearly express ideas and notions simple thoughts through complex emotions the world is at fault **** you world! it's everyone's fault except mine! the ********** continues it goes on and on each voice to its own all of them unanimously accepting how the world is broken how this isn't poetry how souls get shattered as ignorance blooms rejoice! no one is at fault it's the past that haunts creeping into the present destroying youthful innocence rejoice! no one is at all fault we all listen and accept with open arms idleness and neglect this isn't poetry it's just a waste of tim

0

Feb 22, 2015

Feb 22, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC

Helios

this isn't poetry

**** this isn't poetry just some badly disguised prose as I lament while presenting unclear images of a black rose clearly a red one won't suffice mostly because an "altered" state of mind surely my ineptitude stems from this vicious and cruel world whose inhabitants have no interest in accepting their inner humanity it has nothing to do with my inability to clearly express ideas and notions simple thoughts through complex emotions the world is at fault **** you world! it's everyone's fault except mine! the ********** continues it goes on and on each voice to its own all of them unanimously accepting how the world is broken how this isn't poetry how souls get shattered as ignorance blooms rejoice! no one is at fault it's the past that haunts creeping into the present destroying youthful innocence rejoice! no one is at all fault we all listen and accept with open arms idleness and neglect this isn't poetry it's just a waste of tim

40

Rains of happiness are scanty and scarce Darkness and pains blow perennially Build shifting sand dunes, where you lose yourself Occasionally I indulge in the ordinary I capture the animals, talk to them, care for them But that is occasional, mostly, I torment them Darkness is what I truly adore and admire It is its depths that fascinate me The deeper I go, the deeper it gets Bridges that I build all collapse The momentary bliss of being normal is a ******* illusion, that I try cling to These reveries when they last I feel happy, content, confident Though I fear, soon they will vanish And then would come the tentacular times Difficult it then gets to differentiate What is real from what is not. I get a bit anxious, paranoid and schizoid It's not as bad as it is for the sufferers But it is a ********** anyway Sometimes they last hours Sometimes days and weeks And at times, years The worst part is that I won't even know When the sandstorms take place of the rains Later when I do, it seems impossible to get out The triggers can be really subtle But the madness they bring along is not Sometimes the hot winds blow for no reason Focus and conviction, I lack Hence whatever I hold dear I lose Sometimes I feel like stopping to breathe To finally end, the infinite loop of endless loops The clusterfuck of gloom, a dance of dismay I have tried building defence mechanisms But whatever it is, it mutates and manifests In ways that are different from before I know nothing holds any meaning All this goes nowhere and will be worthless But there are a few happy moments My experiences may not be the best But when there are rains I tend to touch the skies And I have learned To carry on, even in the storms But how far I would go?

0

May 2, 2018

May 2, 2018 at 11:10 AM UTC

esotericist

Inside my head

Rains of happiness are scanty and scarce Darkness and pains blow perennially Build shifting sand dunes, where you lose yourself Occasionally I indulge in the ordinary I capture the animals, talk to them, care for them But that is occasional, mostly, I torment them Darkness is what I truly adore and admire It is its depths that fascinate me The deeper I go, the deeper it gets Bridges that I build all collapse The momentary bliss of being normal is a ******* illusion, that I try cling to These reveries when they last I feel happy, content, confident Though I fear, soon they will vanish And then would come the tentacular times Difficult it then gets to differentiate What is real from what is not. I get a bit anxious, paranoid and schizoid It's not as bad as it is for the sufferers But it is a ********** anyway Sometimes they last hours Sometimes days and weeks And at times, years The worst part is that I won't even know When the sandstorms take place of the rains Later when I do, it seems impossible to get out The triggers can be really subtle But the madness they bring along is not Sometimes the hot winds blow for no reason Focus and conviction, I lack Hence whatever I hold dear I lose Sometimes I feel like stopping to breathe To finally end, the infinite loop of endless loops The clusterfuck of gloom, a dance of dismay I have tried building defence mechanisms But whatever it is, it mutates and manifests In ways that are different from before I know nothing holds any meaning All this goes nowhere and will be worthless But there are a few happy moments My experiences may not be the best But when there are rains I tend to touch the skies And I have learned To carry on, even in the storms But how far I would go?

48