"contentedness" poems
I am not the girl you marry
I am the girl who 10 years from now
Will out of nowhere cross your mind
In the midst of contentedness
And have you wondering
What happened to her
I am not the girl you swear forever to
I am the girl who you'll think of
When you ***** your finger on the diamond ring
You bought for the one you plan on spending your life with
I am not the girl you have to try to forget
I am not memorable
In any particular way
But one day you will think of me
When you're sitting in a bar
And the short blonde girl next to you
Orders a glass
Of whisky.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 2:18 AM UTC
I'm just listening to Counting Crows,
and I get this feeling,
That I am so close to understanding,
Something, myself? Something.
And it leads to this eerie feeling of contentedness,
In the darkness.
But I'm just a step behind,
And the more I think, the more...
I lose my way, The more I question,
instead of listen.
But it scares me to let such a moment pass,
without pursuing... it.
Whatever it is.
Poetry? I think not,
Just splutter along the road of my soul.
Sure to be meaningless in the end, but,
Looking at it now, looking back a bit...
Oh to be **** half in the past,
And nirvana just out there,
A bit further along the way.
Almost childly, I blindly,
Reach my hand out and up,
Hoping that I'll be able to grasp the Sun,
As if I won't get burnt,
That since it seems so close,
I just need to grasp,
and the world will be mine.
But some things are not for mortals.
And demons, like kids,
Must too, one day,
Wake up.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
It's not always going to be perfect
some days will be busier than others
with more work done than attention given
some weeks will be harder than most
time, us both lacking enough of it
wishing there was more to have and spend
now and then
the chaos of priority will challenge us
to choose between the crazy of our schedules
and the enjoyment of each other's company
I'm not sure when this will happen
or how often
but one thing I know for certain
is that each day will always be better if it ends in the same bed
and each morning brighter if it starts with light peeking in to wake us from the same window
spending a night together
is the only way I know how to stop time
the hectic of life will come when we least expect it
the struggles, right smack dab in the center of contentedness
there will be moments where we question our own sanity
wondering what to do with all this passion
when the only real option we have is to embrace it
we're not always going to be perfect
we're not always going to be ideal
there is too much unknown in life to call us a kind of forever
I can not promise that we are
but I can promise a few things
we may not always be successful in our pursuit of each other's happiness
but I can promise you
I will always try to find yours first
I will be your tomorrow
always pushing you to make it there
the call of a new day and a guarantee of something great the next
so that even in the lowest of points you know the future is rooting for you
I will wear a smile even when you're not around
just because I know it's your favorite look on me
I will be as grounded as possible
just so you know there's always a part of this earth that loves you
and when the day comes when we do argue
I can promise I will push the bull in me aside for a little
us, both taurus, could easily fight to the death but I
want nothing more than to be the first to surrender
it's not always going to be perfect
I, will not always be perfect
but you have never wanted me to be anything close to it
only happy
some days we will question how worth it all of the effort we put in is
you'll have my laugh and the curve of my lips to remind you
and I'll have yours
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
I want you to love me in a sweater,
grey,
cable knit,
a little too big.
I'll wrap my arms around you,
like fluffy wings,
keep you safe for a change.
(There is something about you that makes me want to.)
We will tangle up in warmth,
and I'll curl my fingers in your hair and press kisses in each curl.
The contentedness between us will be tangible,
filling the air around us.
I want you to love me in the soft way that I love you,
Warm linen sheet-like,
A nestling-into-you kind of thing.
We fit together,
you and I.
Just right.
I want to feel your sleepy breath on my neck,
your lovely eyes fixed on mine.
Your fingers can trail along my shoulders,
your chest can heave contented sighs.
The crook of your arm could be my pillow,
the space between us nonexistent.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 1:40 PM UTC
True beauty is unique,
It lies skin deep,
It doesn't need compliments to be built,
Its flawless because it comes from the image of God in which it was created,
Meaning it has no physical mistakes,
Because God is perfection,
And it only builds through acceptance and contentedness..
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 8:08 AM UTC
take some time to count, to verb
some syllables for some wrecked
page. a Lostman's book in ****
tered thought; nature, and death,
and sole body. then, when she talked
about her better years as those of
drug-induced past-life. younger than
yesterday kinda years. that which finds
metronome slowing, the Universe energy
vibrating weaker while growth found in
apathy, and solid death of purposeful
movement.
then a shot,
that moment to break from wretched self-
criticism -- that post-idyllic criticism --
that which hinders forward movement.
the shot,
which finds contentedness thru some
repetitious mentality . .
[lost it]
. . repetitious fallacy?
[got it]
let's leave some break for transmigration
in thought to prelude of forward movement.
understanding now is not enough; but
agreement in hast. but dissolution to that self-
efface hit rapid. brought back, her thought
of the younger than yesterday years; now,
now is the greatest point of any a count-
less past-life. from them, no matter a sweating
season, the Long Dark, or the cycle-seasons,
all is now. and never
did she or i talk of the past again.
our foci, [one second]
drawn to point of second and next second upon
following and on for another. now, shivery
wine-drunk, reminiscent of tiny furnace and
woolen blanket apartment. that now,
that was true striving of second successful ***** Den.
a great thought downfall; she's been long gone.
[next second now]
she complained of the wind. her eyes were freezing,
she said; her life has begun to bore her, she said.
we moved to playground and climbed in the
slide; a nice dampening. cold plastic barely felt for
her. this Long Dark, and in it, an always fleeting
warmth. [break
to **** for concision in thought]
now then, a diner, of course this face is known. they also
know a companion vacant. asked of, pleasant enough;
responded, well enough.
[disheartened, well enough]
and then, wholly intrinsic with a blasphemous self-
Oralee while passing time trying to think. unable,
if only for sole point of trying. and epochs worth,
thought and gone; now compulsive, now unres-
ponsive, now chewing lips because they're part gum.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 5:58 AM UTC
Rain is refreshing in a strange, backward way. It shocks you out of a deep, prolific lapse of participation in reality and reminds you that you’re still here. You’re still corporeal, tangible, you can feel and you can decide. But rain is still rain. It can be cold and unpleasant to be faced with, or it can be warm and welcoming. Beconing you forth to splash and smile in the reality you forgot still applied to you.
I left behind the idea of full, around the clock consciousness during my last frigid thunderstorm. I realized, during a session already dedicated to realizations, how exhausting it was trying to live my reality to its current extent. How frustrating and soul-crushing it is to have the ambition you truly believed in and planned to embark upon, forgone by the limits of a situation you have no control over. I kept a small jar of ideas and plans in the very back corner of my closet. They were safe, they couldn’t be taken out back and shot nor could they be taunted and destroyed from the inside out. When I was cornered in my intruded closet, when I was taken by the collar and shaken for my truth, they were found. Both above-mentioned circumstances played out shortly but in the opposite order. That’s when it began to rain.
I decided on an alternative: selective awareness. I keep myself alive only feeling and participating when the rain is tepid and pleasant. When I feel the temperature beginning to drop, I fall back asleep, floating through lull and lash, until the sun comes to change the course of my simulation. For days, all I will see is fog. I’m lost and isolated, but that lack of direction comes with an onset of contentedness. There is no one who can see me wandering through a deluded course I have set for myself. I don’t know where I’m walking, I don’t know what’s in front of me, so the warm rain will give me a pleasant surprise as it melts away the fog and gives me hope for sustainable warmth.
The cloudiness that lingers in my head, even when I’m experiencing kindness and sensitivity, reminds me that my effort to make my reality more livable is as viable as staying completely shrouded in fog until I wander off the edge of a cliff. Eventually, as I age out of my simulation, I’ll have skin thick enough to withstand the hailstorm I’ll be forced to reckon with. Resilience is necessary, but hope exists. I often forget it does while I’m wondering, but serenity and light remind me that fog isn’t all I’ve devolved into. Rain will come, and so will spring.
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 9:39 PM UTC
Realisation can be a harsh pill;
One I've always struggled to swallow.
The dose, in this instance, was to be
That my happiness isn't a reward.
It's not earned through great achievements;
Contentedness isn't product of valour.
It's not found in deep breathing and spiritualism,
It's not created by anything external.
No.
My happiness will always be through
consistent fidelity and belief in a purpose.
A purpose that simply has to be weightier
than the small stuff we're sometimes thrown.
It's the consistent drive:
To love.
To laugh.
To make laughter..
To put pen to paper.
It's a thousand-melodies,
On twelve piano keys.
It's the gnawing hunger inside of me,
That says it would be simply unacceptable
For me to leave this world,
Until I have brought forth
Everything I feel I have within me.
Happiness is always going to be a fleeting thing for me.
And that's alright.
Because I'm only just getting started.
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 3:40 PM UTC
You won't leave me be
Stealing my contentedness
Stop making me care.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC
I pulled on an oversized sweater
to stop my hands from shivering as I typed my soul out to you
I arranged the alphabet into a story
made only for you to ball up
and throw into the chute
down to the garbage pit in the back of your mind
it was thanksgiving and
you packed my things
and you left
everything the way it was
incomplete
you
left
me
standing in my room
twelve years old and confused
the grand return came
as I conquered ninth grade
and I pulled on oversized sweaters
to stop my mind from wandering towards the mirror
listening intently to my stepmother’s words
and the drunken cries to God
you wept yourself to sleep on the porch every night
and what was I to do but wonder
fourteen and impressionable
you left again
to find a better life than the bottle could supply
you wrote me letters on Tuesdays
signed with an Ichthys and a verse
and I pulled on oversized sweaters
to stop the chills that sank deep into my heart
on nights when I needed someone who wasn’t there
and found someone who
didn’t need to be there in the first place
sixteen and licentious
you came back
and stopped leaving
found contentedness in the bottom of a Bible
etsi deus non daretur
and I pulled on oversized sweaters
to silence the questions brought forth by my past.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 3:28 PM UTC
Don't get me wrong
I love the Bachelor
and the Bachelorette
The getaways
The fun dates
the good looking people
But is it that's what's wrong with dating today?
Instead of worthiness
We're in it for the pic
what looks best on instagram
while inside we yearn for contentedness
But restlessness is what we're given
got to keep up with the joneses
we're afraid to let ourselves feel
for people based on status
Is it a twilight zone scene
can't be because it's around
from the beginning
ancient royals doing the same
but now we're in a modern aristocracy
So I'll turn off the Bachelorette tonight
I don't need fancy
I need supportive
and sweet
In it for the long haul
and loves me wholly
Miss me with the fake love
and give me the real
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 4:55 PM UTC
Interesting
The chance to start over
The smooth clean slate of a brand new surface
Never corrupted nor covered
Never torn to shreds by an unnamed power
Compelling
The opportunity of new love
A chance to kiss a new pair of lips
To caress the curves of the hands so personal
And walk amongst the wet grass with new life
Sacrificing
To give up the habits to please the guest
To not wonder about yourself when you rest your head
But depend completely on another for contentedness
Equal forces of give and take, a balance
Committing
An act of finalization
A marriage proposal, a slit of the throat
Some trenches just too deep to wander
A few possibilities to be left unexplored
Separating
Forgetting the magnetism of the first touch of fingers
Longing for a kiss on a new, softer mouth
A trail of footsteps leading down different paths
The pedals of a rose begin to sway to the floor
Soaking
The pedals curl and harden, touching ground all too dull
Melt into the earth and return to where it came
The roots begin to emerge on a mutant species
Water is sprung from the dirt and rejuvenates the body
Interesting
The chance to start over
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 10:16 PM UTC
an intrepid image of consistency to living painlessly
floats aimlessly through an adjacent sea of complacency
that finds way to drift further from shore.
worries of capsizing and baptizing
in this ocean of social chastising
leaves me coming back for more.
descending the sail paints
images of pale
skys clouding progression,
shadowing the sun’s oppression
to shining through the cracks,
dreams reflect the water
of sailing to shore and
never coming back,
the table in cabin
covered with cigarettes butts
and empty bottles,
leaving stains of black
on the whispering floorboards
that sways with the current
that restores more
contentedness to being
lost at sea.
but, I wake up to reality
sea sick
MJB
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 7:47 PM UTC
as day closes
I lay on my right side in night’s envelope
knees bent in semi-fetal position
my right hand reaches up and across
resting upon the coolness
of my exposed left shoulder
chin touching upon forearm
I ponder sunlight’s hours
where the insecurity of others
spews green venom
and imaginary superiority
reeks yellow breath
in the darkened quiet of sleepless sleepiness
I find that little spark
the enabler that allows me to love others
in a sometimes unkind, uncaring and thankless world
it is the comfort and peace we all seek
a feeling of belonging
to the earth
to the universe
to one’s self
no matter what others may think
no matter what happened during the day
no matter how hard it was
in that last moment of conscious thought
before drifting back into the womb
of softness and dreams
I know that I love myself
in triumph and contentedness
I love myself
no matter what
Aug 5, 2012
Aug 5, 2012 at 4:27 PM UTC
*My dear BELOVED
You are YOU
It be not because I think of you
That is why you are the best
It is because you are the BEST
That is why I think of you
And it is because you are the BEST-EST
That is why I LOVE you
I'm proud of your success
Your success is my success
Our Relationship is
Support plus inter-exchangeable
Celebration, Delighting
In what you choose to do
Thoughtfulness towards your work
Honor and dignity towards each other
Making mutual choices of
What you really want
I am Subservient
Nothing bad when you are my leader
Losing power is the key for me
Losing masculinity & femininity, gender roles
Adds that respect and
Develops material & Paternal feelings
For each other's needs
I ask:
Does your privilege position
Maintain our relationship?
Absolutely NOT!
We value professional and
Personal submission to each other
We have decided to throw out
Defining labels, being judgmental
of any type towards each other
We accept each other as we are
With existing self-contentedness,
Self-egoism in individuals and society
Such relationship Wont survive selfishness
Respect, trust, communication
Drives our relationship
We invest in future together
NO NO to money when in
Comes to our relationship
Our last words:
Keep up with LOVE
Interdependence, Equality,
Fulfill LOVE*
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 6:28 AM UTC
That clever fine line, so subtle in form
En dormir yet greedily alert to vulnerability
Nimble tentacles easing you over
Once steadfast, comfort in being
Then slippage, slow, painful crumbling, curiosity grappling with descent
Transition seamless as a lullaby yet fiercely combative
Happiness, contentedness, numbness, collision, abyss
That clever fine line, so subtle in form
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
I'm walking laps around my apartment complex.
Passing a red-headed girl with a bottle of Corona,
a few Johnny Rebs talking adderall,
headlights, streetlights, lighters,
swirling, combining, but never providing enough bright.
I'm still bearing a slight headache from Saturday night,
but finally past the nausea.
I spent the day conversing with Rachel's family.
The domesticated, scene of warmth was a sharp
contrast to the hell I put Rachel through in
the waning hours of night.
I woke at 9 this morning to find
her barely covered in a ratty,
blanket, no pillow under her
ruffled hair, her eyes burnt red,
asking if I was okay.
I thought she was overreacting.
She shoved water in my face.
She said, "Drink it, ******
Like she'd tried a few thousand times before,
and apparently she had,
I just didn't remember any of it.
She had saved me around 4.
She cleaned off a death mask
of filthy ***** by force.
I wouldn't comply because
I wasn't coherent.
Tonight as I touch each crack
of the pavement with my sole,
the rest of the human family
is pounding beer, suckling the barbeque
off their pudgy fingers,
and howling at a nation divided between Cheese and Steel.
I'm stuck in the trough of existential contemplation.
Old Mr. Huxley self-medicated with mescaline
and said he discovered the "is-ness", and somehow
found contentedness in "everything is".
That never made much sense to me.
Bukowski found god in ******* and drinking beer.
Vonnegut said when god created the world,
man asked what his purpose was. God was surprised,
and he replied, "I don't know. Make one up."
Feb 6, 2011
Feb 6, 2011 at 4:53 PM UTC
Is today the day?
To run away
We often spoke of it before
But this time maybe... something more?
More than just the whiff of change
A heady pull to rearrange
New home
New hope
So much to do
We'll be much happier
When we're through
Perhaps the chance to experience bliss
Not just mere contentedness
Across the land
To the other sea
To walk new paths
And feel a new 'free'
Making plans
Just you & me.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 10:02 AM UTC
destruction
in the midst of destruction
there is a glimmer of creation
so small is that light
against a backdrop of darkness
darkness that wants to overcome
wants to obliterate
awareness is the key
awareness nurtures the seedling
enveloping it so its protected
growing in the awareness
is a Pandora's box of
hope
faith
serenity
sobriety
peace
contentedness
and other things of like kind
getting larger
healthier
mutating
into a grandiose idea
soon its a ball of light
if you take the ball and consume it
it will spread within you
giving you the power to overcome
the darkness
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
My heart yearns for what once was
my mind fighting to hold the line in a quiet battle
Time, relentlessly persistent in its attempts to erase
dragging my life forward into fading memory
Moments attenuating, absorbed by the past
distorted in all but the essential
But their essence is distilled in my soul
dormant in an archived strength and purity
Occasional mindbursts of beauty are released
refusing to be contained or denied
A certain scent in the air, a certain quality of light
a lyric of song, a touch of breeze...all catalysts
Spontaneously transported into a joyful state
I'm consumed by a déjà vu of carefree ambiance
Bejeweled compartments spill their contents
washing over my mind in a composite nostalgia
Familiar waves of concentrated being saturate
my existence for a compelling glimpse of the idyllic
In those fleeting reveries of peaceful contentedness
I feel completely at home within myself
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 3:54 PM UTC
She's like spring
Rosy cheeks and tshirts and jeans
Delicate feet patter along the grass with happiness
the morning dew barricading intruders.
She loves like the sun; shy in the morning
bright in the afternoon
peaceful in the evening.
She's like summer
Tanned face and strappy tops and short shorts
showing off a supposedly perfect body.
A smile on her face that's impossible to wipe off
Her feet slip into her high heels
whilst the heavy bass blasts through the speakers.
She loves like a child loves their teddy bear
soon to throw it away.
She's like autumn
Dimpled cheeks and thick leggings and Converse
wandering through the fields, her dog at her heel
as acoustic music plays in her ears, and
fills her with contentedness.
She loves like he's the only one
he loves her like she's one of many.
She's like winter
Paler face and dense jumpers and fluffy socks
sits inside a room of comfort
and laughs at her favourite tv show
like she's never been lonely.
Snow floats down outside her window
she watches as it touches the ground,
her fingers wrapped around a warm mug of hot chocolate
and smiles to herself in the darkness.
She sighs at the appearance in the mirror
her wide hips should be for affectionate hands to rest upon
but there's just the debilitating scars that others left on her.
She loves like Pluto
too far away for anyone to reach
her mind is troubled by the blankness
and stuck in an eternity of cold space.
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
Written at age 15... it's rusty:
**Last night you were the focus of my dreams.
There were others, swirling in and out, and making demands, and just visiting, but yours was the only face that stood out.
And you were happy, for once.
We sat on my bed just soaking up each other and you weren’t pressuring me into *** or out of your mind upset, there was some sort of resonating contentedness and I felt fuller than I have felt in so long.
Almost like it was back to last fall, and you still wanted me.
Then you got up, picked up a black bag and walked away, without a word or backwards glance. I might have been asleep, or merely preoccupied, or maybe I just sat there and watched you leave, as if I had known this was to be our fate all along. I remember wondering when you were planning on coming back, when deep down I knew.
You weren’t coming back at all.
I woke up to a plethora of messages from other boys, like always, and I wondered why none of them had made it into my dreams.
And why none of them were from you.**
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 11:16 AM UTC
The air is incredibly thin.
I can’t breathe, and my
hands are shaking.
When I was a boy,
a playmate hit me
in the head with a
glass ashtray.
In an instant,
my father had snatched
the boy up and carried him
****** outside, suspended
by one ankle.
I’ve heard also,
stories of my great-uncles
two brothers, run out of
Saint Louis County
because they’d fought in and
been banned from every tavern
on both sides of every main drag,
of every township therein.
Maybe that’s where this
comes from.
There is a fire inside that
most days is only embers,
but stokes far too easily into
infernal inferno.
The grey mush in my skull is
jacked into some electricity
with jumper-cables made from
too many sour thoughts,
a fierce depression, and
huge piles of self-doubt.
Gladness, contentedness,
feels like fraud, like failure,
like not leaning into it sturdily
enough.
Like not staring into The Abyss hard
enough.
It feels like obscenity to
not see conflict,
to not rail against
some dark thing,
some enemy.
In doing so
is found the ability to
feel like
enough.
But,
what
is
enough?
***
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications; 2016
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 9:21 PM UTC