"complaining" poems
Touch it: it won't shrink like an eyeball,
This egg-shaped bailiwick, clear as a tear.
Here's yesterday, last year ---
Palm-spear and lily distinct as flora in the vast
Windless threadwork of a tapestry.
Flick the glass with your fingernail:
It will ping like a Chinese chime in the slightest air stir
Though nobody in there looks up or bothers to answer.
The inhabitants are light as cork,
Every one of them permanently busy.
At their feet, the sea waves bow in single file.
Never trespassing in bad temper:
Stalling in midair,
Short-reined, pawing like paradeground horses.
Overhead, the clouds sit tasseled and fancy
As Victorian cushions. This family
Of valentine faces might please a collector:
They ring true, like good china.
Elsewhere the landscape is more frank.
The light falls without letup, blindingly.
A woman is dragging her shadow in a circle
About a bald hospital saucer.
It resembles the moon, or a sheet of blank paper
And appears to have suffered a sort of private blitzkrieg.
She lives quietly
With no attachments, like a foetus in a bottle,
The obsolete house, the sea, flattened to a picture
She has one too many dimensions to enter.
Grief and anger, exorcised,
Leave her alone now.
The future is a grey seagull
Tattling in its cat-voice of departure.
Age and terror, like nurses, attend her,
And a drowned man, complaining of the great cold,
Crawls up out of the sea.
41.9k
Ha kamatuoran la, gin-susumhan na gud ako,
Diri ka pa ba gin-susumhan?
Hin mga buhat nga balik-balik nala?
Diri mo ba nahahalata?
Nga utro-utro nala kita?
Kun may napakiana ha imo, "Ano kumusta na?"
An pirmi mo baton: "Adi asya la gihapon, waray pinagkaibahan han kakulop!"
Ngan kontento ko na hito.
*The truth is, I am sick and tired.
Aren’t you sick and tired?
Doing the same things over and over again?
Still haven’t noticed it?
This has been like this again and again.
When somebody asks you, “How is everything with you?”
Your usual reply is: “Oh nothing’s changed same as yesterday.”
And you’re happy as it is.*
Usahay liwat nabati ako ha imo nga utro-utro an reklamo.
Nga baga hin kadaan ngan guba nga plaka,
Balik-balik an tukar, masakit ha talinga.
Reklamo an imo pamahaw,
Ngan amo la gihapon hasta panihapon.
Kay kuno makuri.
Kay kuno waray salapi.
Kay kuno waray kapas.
Kun may sweldo daw la an pag-rineklamo,
siguro maiha na unta nga nag-riko.
*Sometimes, I will hear you complaining again and again.
Like an old and broken retro vinyl,
playing over and over again, it is hurting my ears.
Complaining is your breakfast,
and it is your same meal for dinner.
Because it’s hard.
Because we don’t have money.
Because I am powerless.
If complaining will provide you a salary,
perhaps by now, you might quite be wealthy.*
Nagkatapo kita kanina ha dalan han "Kada Adlaw"
Asya la gihapon an imo sul-ot nga bado,
ngan an kabutang han imo buhok.
Asya la gihapon an pagkakurumos han imo nawong,
Ngan an bubble gum nga hasta yana imo la gihap ginsisinamsam.
Nangurog ako han kaluwad.
Tigda ako nahingasuka ha imo atubangan.
Pasayloa, pero magpapadayon ka nala ba hito?
Diri ka pa ba ginsusumhan?
Kay ha kamatuoran la, Naamin ako Nga Oo.
*I came across you at the street called “Everyday”
You were wearing the same clothes,
And your hair was fixed the same way.
You were having the same wrinkled frown in your face,
and was chewing the same bubble gum.
I cringe.
I suddenly felt vomiting in front of you.
I’m sorry, but will you keep on doing this?
Aren't you sick and tired?
Because to be honest with you, I think I am.*
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 10:16 AM UTC
I am not required to love you.
Let's get that straight.
Neither man nor woman
Is obligated to profess
And show their undying love for you,
Just as the sun doesn't revolve around the world,
The world doesn't revolve around you.
A series of acts showing your "kindness"
Is not a contract for a relationship.
The very fact that you have to shout
How you are a "nice guy"
Shows how you aren't;
Kindness doesn't need reassurance.
To be frank,
This whole delusion
Is getting a bit out of hand
(see: the ****** Killer",
a guy so sexually frustated
He killed people
for not giving him the right to get laid).
Maybe, hear me out here guys,
it's not because girls only look for "bad guys".
Maybe we look for soulmates,
Not Good Samaritans with hidden agendas.
This may come off as a shock for some of you,
But all-around goodness isn't equal
to treating girls nicely
Only because you might have a chance.
So if your mating dance
Consists of acting like you're an angel And simultaneously complaining
About the blindness
And insolence of women,
It's high time you should stop.
Put down the fedora while you're at it.
It's become a symbol for gentlemen for you,
But now it's a warning sign for us: "Beware the self-entitling guy!"
Honestly, we cringe every single time.
And darling,
Nice guys always finish last
because they whine
Instead of running.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC
We never really stop to suffer,we only learn how to live with our pain...
Turn your weaknesses into your strength,
life will be better..
Learn to fight instead of complaining..
because one day,you'll be on your own..
Prepare yourself for the worst...
almost all of the people you go out with,will stay with you as long as they benefit from you..
Its in your worst days that you'll know who really cares...
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
I'm tired of taking off my own belt
I'm tired of feeling what I've felt
I'm tired of giving up so easy
I'm tired of no one trying to see me
I'm tired of complaining and whining
I'm tired of the wanting and pining
I'm tired of sleeping all alone
I'm tired of staying at home
I'm tired of listening my thoughts
I'm tired of everything I've got
I'm tired of staring on the mirror
I'm tired of trying to wipe it clear
I'm tired of silent, early mornings
I'm tired of romantically mourning
I'm tired of my ever-drying lips
I'm tired of my calloused fingertips
I'm tired of listening to happy people
I'm tired of being frail and feeble
I'm tired of being alone
I'm tired of being alone
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
I do ****
I get ****
and I know I deserve it.
But you'd always.
ALWAYS.
see me complaining,
shouting,
and eventually,
laughing at myself.
Because all of it is pointless.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 6:51 AM UTC
It's just that
i'd like someone to
write for me
just once
i'd like to be the object of affection
i'd like for someone to find
that beauty my mother keeps telling me
i have inside
i'm not complaining
but you see
i'd just like to be the
poem
and not the poet
for once
Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 8:49 PM UTC
You kept complaining
'bout those people corrupting
then afterwards you'll be saying
Money can't be brought alongside with you on the day that you die. Why are they being so corrupt?
Yet why aren't you trying to question thyself?
When in fact, you aren't any different.
Save, Save, Save
That's all you think about
Prices, Prices, Prices
I thought we were here to survive?
Money is an element for survival.
Why are you keeping every single dollar?
You always count your money as if it is your baby.
Complaints are all that I hear each day every time you pay.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 8:56 AM UTC
spring planting, spring harvesting, spring garlic
One of the great joys of having a job in agriculture
is to think days, weeks, even months ahead,
One of the great joys of having a job in poetry,
like a fireman, a patient planter of love,
you wait to be called,
then becoming by being,
part of an all consuming burning
come spring, take advantage of the cool, wet weather of spring
to put in multiple crops of peas and lettuce, also a great time
to get your perennial vegetables,
like asparagus and rhubarb, started
the planting cycle is not an either/or,
come harvest thy labored fruits,
nine crops to harvest come March,
kale, pick leaves as needed,
leeks, best left in the ground
and harvested as needed,
parsnips, purple sprouting broccoli,
rhubarb, spring cabbage, spring cauliflower,
and of course, my personal fav,
Spring Garlic
Garlic, like like love, is generally planted in the fall,
before the frost and harvested the following late summer.
But from March to May,
once the ground has truly thawed,
the young lover plants, spring garlic or green garlic,
can be harvested.
it’s a long bus ride to Western Canada
where the garlic spring has come,
ain’t complaining lots of time to write foolishness
and plant a few good bus poems in northern ontario
and even michigan,
the window slides, and the seeds scattered,
but at every bus poet stop,
those that need it,
planted many inches deep
April 2 naught how I wish I was nineteen again
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 4:02 PM UTC
Dear Best friend,
You know who you are. You are the beautiful girl in the back of the class, who keeps to herself, but is still strangely likable. You are the girl with the piercing blue eyes and dark, dark sense of humor.
Dear Best Friend,
I know you literally are always willing to listen, whether it is talking about our mutual crush on that guy in our favourite class, or complaining about society, or my parents, or when I just need to talk about the weather to distract myself from the looming fear of everything going wrong.
Dear Best Friend,
I still remember when you first told me about your depression. I had always sort of known, but hearing you say it out loud, I honestly didn’t know what to do, because I don’t want you to end up like me, I don’t want you to feel like you have to turn to sharp inanimate objects, I don’t want your world to be dark, hopeless, I don’t want you to fall because depression is a slippery slope, trust me. I don’t want you to forever be broken. I don’t want you to be scared.
I just don’t want you to end up as ****** up as me.
Dear Best Friend,
I know I’m not perfect, I’m not even close, and I ***** up... A lot. But I will do what ever I can to ALWAYS be there for you. I will always be the dorky, idiotic, annoying sidekick.
Dear Best Friend,
You are beautiful, don’t let anyone, ever tell you otherwise. Especially not some 12 year old boy with a stupid haircut.
You are short, there is no denying that, but so is Billie Joe Armstrong and we still think he is the hottest thing since wood stoves.
You have blue eyes, that I know you think are weird, but they are like oceans only not as dark.
Your hair is almost as straight as the members in half the bands we listen to, but each curl falls in it’s own special place
You are beautiful, stunning, breath-taking, and every other synonym for that word.
Dear Best Friend,
I’m sorry you have to put up with me when I am like this. I know I should just bottle it up, but for whatever reason it always seems like I can’t stop the words from escaping. I’m sorry, I am so so sorry that you have to deal with me.
Dear Best Friend,
I really want to smack you upside the face with a brick sometimes. But I won’t, because I am more scared of you hitting back than I am of doctors (and that’s saying something)
Dear Best Friend,
I promise that I will always be there as long as you need me, whether it’s in the middle of the night or when I am thousands of miles away with timezone barriers between us, just call me. When you are scared, call me. When what you are scared of is yourself, call me. When you need a friend, call me. When you want to gush about your new boyfriend, call me. When you want to just chat, call me.
Dear Best Friend,
At this point I think of you more like a sister that a friend.
So, Dear Sister, I love you so much. Thank you for showing me that even the darkest nights have a sunrise, and that those sunrises are always the most spectacular.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
The moths followed the little square
Like he was a flame
The little square wrote a book about his despair
And the moths made a proclaim
The little square didn't like us
So he told the moths to find us, "the mess"
He told them to do it without fuss
'Cause without us his garden would be flawless
The moths came out to his garden
They found me and my kind
And pulled us out with a gun
Treating us like we aren't apart of mankind
We were put on trial by them
And thrown into fire
We were shoved into a room by 'em
And gassed because it was "prior"
Occasionally the moths were bored
So they played hangman with us
This was a game that they adored
All we could do was stare at the hanging carcass
They were our friends and family
They were the only medals we had left
We were too broken to be angry
So we ignored the theft
When the moths got rid of us
They went for the most damaged weeds
That often made us anxious
Because of it some did misdeeds
Some couldn't deal with the pain and fear
So those weeds jumped to the birds
On the floor they left a smear
The smears thought jumping would send them homewards
Though we saw death so many times a day
We were still able to eat and treat people with hate
It was because from our god we have gone astray
Maybe because we were all under weight
In our stomachs prowled lions
Our hunger was so severe
If we found stray scraps we would go for the ****
If you went for the food you were a volunteer
One time we ran out of food
So we complained even more
The moths got tired of our complaining mood
So we ran to a new camp door
We were often moved
We went from camp to camp
Of course we all disapproved
On the house that was based by our stamp
On each of our wrist
Was and inky black stamp
It was on the moths checklist
It was our name in each concentration camp
When we were saved from hell
We were all broken weeds
We couldn't even sleep well
But the ones that saved us answered our needs
The ones that saved us helped end the war
And some were normal citizens
Everyday we are grateful for their loving core
Even if we had great differences
Though the Holocaust made us different
And the memories haunt us
It was kind of a movement
Because now people won't walk into war without a fuss
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 8:40 AM UTC
In the dimly lit chamber, we set the scene.
An owner and his pet, a game of primal and prey.
She kneels like an eager dog, a collar around her neck.
He stomps his feet and keeps her obedience at play.
The owner, like a magician, keeps tricks up his sleeve.
He wants his pet to learn— to be his student and please.
Commanding her to crawl, to fetch and beg.
Waiting for him to call her a good little pet.
She barks and whimpers, a puppy in passion.
Spins three times and licks her master’s feet without a whine.
The pet surrenders to her master’s might.
She delivers his sturdy leather boots in a straight line.
With a flick of the whip, the pet curls in elation.
Her master chuckles at her sounds of temptation.
Submitting to the cynicism of ******* and discipline.
She is flogged like a plebeian, forgetting she’s a citizen.
Pet and master, a bond so strong.
The two are bound by zeal, craving one another.
She wallows in the comfort of her belly rubs and treats.
And runs around with a rush of red in color.
She goes through treacherous training.
And yelps if she’s ever caught complaining.
Waiting for a tasteful gift: the eternity collar.
When she is ready, he puts it on with honor.
Jun 16, 2024
Jun 16, 2024 at 6:25 PM UTC
Picnic
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My friends laugh elsewhere on the beach
while I sit here, alone, counting the waves,
writing and rewriting your name in the sand ...
Confession
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Your image overwhelmed my vision.
As the long nights passed, I became obsessed with your visage.
Then came the moment when I quietly placed my lips to your picture ...
Rain
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why shiver alone in the rain, maiden?
Embrace the one in whose warming love your body and mind would be drenched!
There are no rains higher than the rains of Love,
after which the bright rainbows of separation will glow with the mysteries of hues.
My Body's Moods
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I long for the day when you'll be obsessed with me,
when, forgetting the world, you'll miss me with a passion
and stop complaining about my reticence!
Then I may forget all other transactions and liabilities
to realize my world in your arms,
letting my body's moods guide me.
In that moment beyond boundaries and limitations
as we defy the conventions of veil and turban,
let's try our luck and steal a taste of the forbidden fruit!
Moon
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
All of us passengers,
we share the same fate.
And yet I'm alone here on earth,
and she alone there in the sky!
Vanity
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
His world is so simple, so very different from mine.
So distinct—his dreams and desires.
He speaks rarely.
This morning he wrote: "I saw some lovely flowers and thought of you."
Ha! I know my aging face is no orchid ...
but how I wish I could believe whatever he says, however momentarily!
Keywords/Tags: Perveen Shakir, Urdu, translation, Pakistan, love, passion, picnic, beach, vision, confession, rain, rainbow, hues, forbidden fruit, body, *** orchid, mrburdu
What the Poet Sees
by Michael R. Burch
What the poet sees,
he sees as a swimmer
~~~underwater~~~
watching the shoreline blur
sees through his breath’s weightless bubbles ...
Both worlds grow obscure.
Published by ByLine, Mandrake Poetry Review, Poetically Speaking, E Mobius Pi, Underground Poets, Little Brown Poetry, Little Brown Poetry, Triplopia, Poetic Ponderings, Poem Kingdom, PW Review, Neovictorian/Cochlea, Muse Apprentice Guild, Mindful of Poetry, Poetry on Demand, Poet’s Haven, Famous Poets and Poems, and Bewildering Stories
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 11:29 PM UTC
World is given through her womb
Life by her love
She's a shooting star
Fulfilling the dreams of others
Forgetting her ones.
We don't dare to appreciate her
We don't care to her feelings,
Nor her dreams.
She swallows her pride
To serve us might.
Love her, she loves you tonnes
Ignore her, she loves you loads
Ignores our ignorance
And tolerates our flaws
Complaining never
Her cries are often unheard
With tears invisible,
Trauma a smile
Patience at infinity
With words unspoken.
She's a ocean
Vast to explore
Hard to understand
But plain as river
With thoughts deeper.
Her self respect
Often misspelled as ego,
Society mocks her down earth
And she raises like a tree
From a buried seed
Her every move
Is judgemental,
With several eyes poking her
And so she became unpredictable.
Never try to understand, rather love her.
She gives life. She is a mother.
She makes home. She is a wife.
She is a sister, a savior till the ends.
She is precious because she is a daughter
She refuses to retire because she's born a woman.
And do you feel she deserves just a single day!?
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 9:50 PM UTC
Dear Me,
I love you and
I know I haven't been fair to us
For most of our life really
I tend to let others lead me
Sway my desires
And otherwise dictate my life
I think I'm afraid to admit that I'm real
That I'm alive and a person
Due to our ****** up past
But that's not an excuse anymore
There are good things in life now
Top surgery in November
Our job has picked back up again
And we're experiencing grad school
I understand that life is scary and
That nothing seems good for long
But we can move towards happiness
Choose to see the good in things
Stop complaining and
Focusing on the bad things in life
We can grow together
Find ourselves
And finally find the best way to be happy
OUR best way
We got this
I love you
-Carter
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 4:39 PM UTC
Everyday, I wait for you.
It's all I ever do.
I wait for you to be home from school.
I sit around and stay cool.
I wait for you to be home from a guys' night out.
I make sure you're home safe so I can sleep without a doubt.
I wait for you when you feel like calling..
I wait for you, you know I do.
You did not force me to wait.
I guess, Im just the one who doesn't hesitate.
Maybe I just wanted to wait for you,
Or you give me reason to.
Im not complaining to you.
I just want you to appreciate what I do.
But there are really times when I think it's enough.
These were the times I think it's rough.
You keep me waiting for you.
Maybe you don't care coz you know waiting is what I always do.
But sometimes, you keep me waiting not knowing what to expect.
I think it's just painful and I feel that somehow there's no respect.
It's hard when you wait for something.
How much more if you just wait there not knowing what's gonna be happening?
When the person you're waiting for doesn’t say a word.
You think you're being absurd.
I just grew tired of doing so.
Especially when you found out you waited for nothing though.
I guess it breaks your heart.
I bet it tears you apart.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 10:27 AM UTC
The new definition of forbidden
is "attempt to obtain"
to try with hopes of success
in the game of the insane
the outcome is always evident
the stakes are always high
a battle sometimes imminent
but the limit is the sky
the game is a labyrinth
the goal is undefined
looking for the rules?
just read between the lines
the losers are complaining
the sly ones always win
if you want to taste the forbidden
now's a good time to begin
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
Step sister 1:
Cinderella! Cinderella!
Have you seen my Blackberry?
Prince Charming is having a grand party
Texted everybody in this country
Step sister 2 :
Cinderella! Cinderella!
Don't tell sis, I received a message too
Iron my dress, polish my shoes
Will not let her dance and step on my shoes
Prince Charming is mine, I am not gonna lose
Cinderella :
My sister 1 , my sister 2
Please do whatever you told yourselves
after cooking, I'd be busy myself
fairy godmother will come at my side
to offer a dress and a carriage to ride.
Prince Charming didn't text or call me
I do not own a Blackberry
but he had come here in person yesterday
Funny, He didn't ask me to try on a shoe
instead he had asked me to recite a poetry
He said he was head over hills in love with poetry
and found Cinderella a poet he wanted to marry
Sister 1 and Sister 2 :
Shut up Cinderella !
You are filthy little liar!
Liar Liar Liar
While the step sisters were getting mad
A golden carriage came for rescue
Cinderella stepped in a carriage
Held her poetry books tightly in her hands
and Fairy godmother sat very cool on her side
Stepsisters were in state of shock
Busy texting their mother and friends
and complaining, and crying, and shouting, and cursing
as Cinderella Went straight to the castle to marry her Prince Charming.
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 10:51 AM UTC
Forsaken, ******* in the cold,
eating each other, lost
runny noses,
complaining all the time
like so many
people
that we know
6.3k
That tree said
I don't like that white car under me,
it smells gasoline
That other tree next to it said
O you're always complaining
you're a neurotic
you can see by the way you're bent over.
July 6, 1981, 8 p.m.
6.3k
Your first position of power
Feeling you don't get the respect
You think you deserve
I almost pity you
Treating us like dogs
But with a guise of politeness
"Ma'ams" and "pleases" can't hide your contempt
Your patronizing tone washes it all away
Doctors bark at you, you say?
Patients don't respect you?
Poor you, you deserve the world
Right, try being us for a day
Your lying mouth never stops
Complaining, explaining
As if we're completely ignorant
As if we can fix your problems
Your favorite activity
The one at which I roll my eyes
Is telling us how much you hate
The profession YOU chose
Perhaps you're just upset
That all our young minds
Can change our paths
Nothing for us is set in stone
Condescending, you sneer
"I am your boss"
***** you've been here
Less time than I have
What gives you the right
To judge these people?
Sure, they're self-entitled
Demanding and belittling
But have you looked in the mirror lately?
Mar 1, 2011
Mar 1, 2011 at 10:44 AM UTC
(October 17th, 2013, I think is when I wrote this.)
There aren’t many things
that I’m good at.
I have bad grades.
I’m aware of this, but they
still insist on shouting as if
three letter F’s
determine my worth
as well as my ability.
I’m not athletic,
never been remotely decent
at sports,
picked last for soccer,
football, basketball,
and everything else,
tried to do parkour once-
however,
that hope quickly dissolved
when I discovered
that it was still nerve-wracking
for me to climb a fence.
(One of the many gifts
that comes with a severe
lack of coordination.)
I’m not a quiet person.
I don’t know
how to hold my tongue
most of the time.
So when my father’s paycheck
is cut shorter and shorter,
when he makes little enough as it is,
my stay-at-home mother
fighting her demons of
the severe depression and anxiety
that she passed down to me
as well as her (auditory) hallucinations,
her BPD,
her physical disabilities,
not making a paycheck at all,
and my school supplies
consist of 50-cent notebooks
that fall apart,
and 75-cent pens,
I get a little… “upset”.
I’ve played guitar for three years.
Sometimes, it’s what I’m best at,
playing strings of notes
and minor chords
that come together to form
beautiful harmonies-
but more often than not,
every note is sour…
Another thing I’m not good at.
But I am a writer.
People don’t pay attention
to teenagers, they say
We’re so full of ourselves,
We think we’re so important,
they say
We need to communicate,
but when we try
all they hear
is whining, and complaining.
Teenagers telling their friends
in passing conversation
that they’re suicidal,
that they hurt themselves,
just to see who will notice-
who will listen-
and of course, no one does.
Nobody notices that
teenagers are the voice
of our generation,
and our generation,
as such,
is royally ******
because nobody pays attention.
There aren’t many things
that I’m good at.
But I am a writer.
And I have
a voice,
a pen…
And paper torn
from a 50-cent notebook.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
We do **** culture in uhmerica.
What is uhmerican culture anyway?
I'll explain:
it's like,
irrationalized entitlement,
moral decadence on every side
of every fence &
sick narcissistic pride
to be parasitic,
a louse *******
the life out of
the whole **** planet.
Men who have
everything
still die from depression.
Women who call
freedom co-decency
bold faced oppression.
**** first question later.
Hermits complaining
about the rain when
they know **** well
they don't even go outside.
Everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone lies to
everyone.
See?
It's a cycle.
A spiral.
Maybe it'll go quiet
into the night, or
maybe it'll ignite
the whole **** planet.
Has anyone else noticed
the rise and fall of
Napoleon & the Romans?
How every worldwide empire dies?
In a fiery gust of embarassment
that was the special from the start.
I've grown numb
to the disgust I felt
towards everyone else &
the fact that they're all
kind of beyond helping.
Now I'm just waiting
for it all to fall apart.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
Such dissatisfaction
For so little reason.
Much complaining & whining,
Crying & begging;
Pulling hair, tight fists
And gnashing teeth.
Consumer Zombies stagger
Into the Stop & Shop,
Shop & Go,
Buy More For Less-
Sale, Sale, Sale!
Salivating glands & bug eyes;
Our hands grab more than
Can possibly be seen.
Our skin stretches tight
As white elephants stampede.
Why can’t we all
Just Stop & think?
Take a drink of the cool morning
Air and buy in the sunrise?
© Lesley Wood
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 2:55 AM UTC
I can't cry.
I sit amongst pillars of stone
My mind is empty
The pillars whisper things unknown
I'm left in my thoughts
They scare me
Because they're empty
And I can't cry.
Stop complaining.
My head is shot by my heart
See its past took form
Made a solid pain tipped dart
That was true to its Mark.
Yes everything hurts
And I'm alone.
But I'll stop complaining.
I can't stop singing.
No, the melody is my rescue
From the ocean's sting
On fresh new cuts in me that ring
With dissonance in my mind.
Has my harmony gone?
Is that all?
I can't stop singing.
I can't stop thinking
Each thought brings new pain
To old wounds
That sting like never before
My skin won't stop crawling.
I'm infected.
My thoughts are parasites.
I can't stop thinking.
The hurt isn't leaving.
My mind tells me what I know
The things it says are true
But see I choose to act on them
And that makes all the difference.
No matter what I feel
I chose right.
But the hurt isn't leaving.
It should be leaving.
I made these decisions after all
But sometimes we do what hurts
And have to deal with side effects
That we never intended
My painful dialogue.
Your painful laugh.
It should be leaving.
Please, I beg it, leave.
But it won't
Another has set it loose
This cancer on my heart
No, now it's everywhere
Because it's a cancer
And it hurts
So I beg it to leave
This pain is mine.
I made mistakes in what I said
And in what I did.
Now here I sit in consequence
The greatest hurt I've ever known.
It's excruciating
And I started it.
This pain is mine.
But there's another.
Something has twisted the blade
Pulling more blood from me
I smiling wish I had more to give
But I'm dry.
I loved this thing.
I'd have given my life.
But there's another.
It's all the same.
The thing I love twisted the knife
See I put the knife there
Is it happy?
I stabbed myself. Why does it twist it
I don't know
I wouldn't twist that blade
But it's all the same.
Can't cry.
Musn't complain.
Don't stop singing.
Don't stop thinking.
Hurt won't leave.
Hurt should leave.
Please, hurt, leave.
Hurt is mine.
It's all the same.
It's all the same.
It's all the same.
It's all the same...
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC