"depressingly" poems
The teacher stands before her detained class
And from behind her authoritative podium
She equates abortion to the holocaust
A dangerous comparison in an educational garrison
But the other children nodded their heads in agreement
A benefit of having the ear of youth
Is being able to infect it with your own toxic ideology
What bacteria did this ear infection consist of?
Conservatism? Religiosity? Chastity?
The answer was depressingly simple
I was the only one there unaware of Fox News
I was a casualty of the confusion
The confusion engendered
By venom thoughts placing politic-colored glasses
on the entrenched masses
Entertainment
Used to convey anger and hate
Emotions worth conveying
But not living in
The intents and desires of their vulnerable receivers
become an incongruous disaster
What could I have done?
Minds as still as the pharaohs heart
We live in a society where we're all infantilized by one myth
Good and evil
Looking back on what I did do
I didn't do much
But I did do something
I didn't nod my head like a ******** sycophant
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 12:34 PM UTC
The lights dimmed
The music slowed
Everyone but me and him had a partner
he stood feet from me standing, watching me as I looked depressingly on the
dancing lover and their dates
-
I just sat on the floor my long white dress a mess
My lip stick long gone
My long hair lying frail on my shoulders
-
Then he looked at me and I looked back
He looked as though he was about to say something
Then he stopped himself
I nearly said something but I stopped myself
-
So we sat and watched the dance
The slow dance
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 10:16 AM UTC
You threw around the word love
like one of your
**** hockey pucks
and i guess you thought
i was the goal
you wanted
(but only because time was running out
and you obviously wanted to impress someone)
you picked up 'im sorry'
as a continuous re-bound
sadly to say,
i always accepted those
but now
take a seat on the bench
because you didn't show up
in time for the game
depressingly, i thought
you always had to be
the goalie
and help stop others
from stealing me
so **** the game
you used as a guideline
to be
with
me.
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
“I have something for you to remember me by,” said Tim.
He held a little foam Hippo – the lone play animal supplied by the loonybin to patients in need.
It was brand new – just as every Hippo looked – and I wondered why he’d chosen something seemingly impersonal in comparison to his other, odd gifts.
However, what he did next made his hippo – my hippo – absolutely ideal. To people like Tim and I, that is.
For, to my astonishment, he casually took the toy in his hands, twisted, and ripped it cleanly in two.
He ripped off its head, which he gave to me, whilst he kept the body.
I will never get rid of that mutilated, foam hippo head. For he understood what no one else had ever come near.
In this way – perhaps – Tim and I became synonyms. Synonyms for what ignorant perceptions would later christen ****** or merely, crazy (the latter - coined by those who remain too depressingly colloquial to invent unfounded diagnoses).
These epithets, catalyzed post personifying such societal taboos as Tim or I committed, follow me still, and have yet to disperse.
A criticaster disaster, personified.
Yes; in this way – Tim and I became synonymously insane.
•
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 7:22 AM UTC
that feeling in the pit of your stomach as you raise your eyes to look at them, it's lethal
my love is like poison and the second upon exposure i'm left vulnerable but you're left affected forever, one step forward, a single blow to the lips and he has to open his eyes to see her face and remember this is real, she is real
it won't be movie love, it will be real love, and for that you must be warned - do not engage if you don't want after-sex cuddles and life contemplations, hot chocolate runs and holding hands without gloves since the heat from your hands are enough to warm the lack of oxygen reaching mine, late night laughter and cheesy dancing
do not engage if you don't want to let yourself fall in love, because it will happen slowly and if you realise when it's too late that you need to back out you need to know that like a bee who stings and dies, pushing me away from you after i've loved will cause me to be crippled not only by the weight of the falseness that i've been living in, but also the dense, crushing weight of my own love, of the letters and the kisses and the laughter
if you see me contemplate running after you when we say goodbye because i've always had a fear of departure, if you see my eyes light up when you walk into a room with an expression that can only be described as warmth and admiration, if you see my hand slowly make its way to yours in a desire to be held and comforted, if you see me love completely, depressingly, you need to stop me, because i'm warning you that if you don't i will get hurt and the pain of being locked out of my life forever will hurt you more in the months proceeding than it will hurt me as i learn to build myself up again for somebody else
you can fall in love with my lips, my humour, my dresses, my laughter, my smile, the emptiness of my eyes, the constant fear, the happiness when food comes, and anything else and everything else - but please, remember that it's lethal
it's lethal to love and to be loved, but it's the best poison i've ever really known
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
I'm perfectly imperfect
That's what they always say
I'm crookedly straight
But I'm far from gay
I forever speak my mind
Always and all day
My heart is on my sleeve
But guarded all the same
I'm devilishly innocent
My mind is not so tame
I'm dishonestly truthful
But never take the blame
I'm completely backwards
We can never be the same
To me upwards is downwards
The sky's my only ground
Your life I can still ruin
It is with in my bounds
I'm depressingly happy
There is no middle ground
My version of earth is flat...
Why should it be round?
My earth is a work of art
With colours everywhere
Your world I broke and ripped apart
Just to prove I don't fit there
I tore it up in little bits
I left the pieces without a care
I'm completely backwards
I'm such a major scare
I'm nationally local
You can see me all the time
I can disappear into thin air
Leaving you without a rhyme
For I'm melodically harmonious
No brighter than the dullest shine
I'm incomprehensibly real
And yet so hard to find
Pure white to me is simple black
Race is gone and can't come back
I can prove all that I am
A thing to which you surely lack
I'm disrespectfully respectful
My words are always fact
I'm completely backwards
I'll drive you past insane
Then I'll never bring you back
I'm illegally legal
Like a drug that you can't sell
I'm contrastingly bendable
In this world of my own hell
I'm resistingly irresistible
My secrets you will never tell
I'm obscenely lovable
In this world in which I fell
I landed in this twisted place
A world of expectations
This world I created on my own
For I'm an undertone of exaggeration
Here I've found my only home
In a backwards world of my creation
And all in all I'm here to say
"I'm completely backwards
In every single way"
Sep 10, 2009
Sep 10, 2009 at 12:49 PM UTC
Why must I be so in love with you?
Every thing I do brings back the depressingly lovely
thoughts of you.
Maybe it's the nonchalant way you smile when you see me
Or maybe the way your forest deep eyes gleam when you read my poem
Or maybe it's just God's way of perfection.
I'm sure I could become an Olympic Track runner after sprinting down the halls everyday
Just so I can stand next to you...
The way you laugh at my silly gestures brings joy into my compressed heart
The way you draw illustrations for my poem about depression makes me wonder
why did I ever write those when my cure is right in front of me?
If you only knew how much I smiled, cried, thought, and dreamed of this one text from you
Maybe then you'll understand
"...But you can call me your Batman..."
You would be my superhero.
My knight in shining armor.
My protection. My warmth. My security.
My First Love.
Maybe. Just Maybe.
This is God's idea of perfection.
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 9:05 PM UTC
Love is defined in many ways. Through the simplest thing that could bring biggest smiles and the most red blushes to a girl. Through the most humiliating teases of friends, to the hidden smile of a guy. For the youth today, love is seen in, sadly just through relationship statuses online, love is seen anonymously in the internet half way across the world. Love is, depressingly hard to know if real or reel because of the liberating actions of the new generation. But, how well do I know love? I am not sure, but I guess love is not just some stupid messages that you see in the screen of your desktop computers or laptops. It is an emotion that once felt, can't be controlled in one second. It is a feeling that we eventually develop for some one that we think we've been waiting for for a long time. Just like in Hades and Persephone's story. Hades laid an eye on her, like a lion eyeing for a lamb but not for dinner rather for a lifetime belongingness despite the fact that somehow he is a monster. And surprisingly, Persephone felt the same way. He's from down under, she's from up above, yet they gave love a definition that could've mean, love is worth fighting for, love is not about where you belong in earth, but to whom you should belong.
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 1:30 PM UTC
Visions of oppositions, positions and prison. The forward missions, the capitalism, criticism and optimism. The Amor, the adored, the allure and the awards! The doors, the poor, the gore and the sore.
The any and many! The many hoards of pennies, before the lords of plenty. The awkward, the backward, the hospital wards and the
mental. Furthermore, more roar and war with a governmental evil,
medieval in blue! Therefore as I do accrue the clues, the dues, the hues and views. Something’s of me? My belated peeling, feelings related to that of a shrine of the divine. Etched and sketched by a pencil and stencil. Designed by the heavens divine. A displaced or misplaced,
abused, bruised and reused utensil. Something’s of me? I am often depressed, half-dressed and suppressed. Distraught and stressed by
thoughts, thoughts that are fought, sought and taught. As I endeavor, forever dedicated. However, medicated or sedated! A neglected, suspected sinner. A grinner and winner in entice haste, with precise
pace! As I taste the waste of this offending never-ending race. Regardless heartless, relentless congress. Yes, in confessing to you; beware of the care, the dare, the flare, the rare of scare! Attempt to see
what I have seen in contempt! In-between or as a teen. The obscene or serene! The many scenes at the seams. Driven by schemes and themes
it seems! Full of the brave that craves! The deprave and the rave. Those things which sing from the grave... Something’s of me? These are no lies, as a book carefully look into my sorrowful eyes. See why I despise, why I am wise. Look beyond the ancient, powerful skies.
They’re in wonderful constant, radiant disguise. Something’s of me?
My sensitive life of delight in fight, fright and plight. My life of sight, my life of trite. My negative pride! My life’s awesome, positive stride! Inside as I cry, as I hide… I depressingly, devotedly, ignorantly, triumphantly, unfortunately, hopefully and literally say. I am definite that one day I will embark into the dark. Emulate as a creative,
relative spark! Onto Noah’s great and infinite ark. Sailing into the prevailing, unveiling rain... with much too gain, maintain, regain and retain. Believing, weaving and leaving the grieving, the blame, the flame, the fame, the insane and the pain.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 9:17 PM UTC
The good dragon, thankless in his task continues faultlessly
Fitness training session is in full swing, mentally also
Preparations for an imprinted idea of a future prevail
******* on the porch is perfectly acceptable
Critter/blob; doctor/judge breed relentlessly
World of possibilities, even the Cosmo
Royal treatment- worship their Holy Grail
To any other sane beast, it’s debatable
Poor warning, little time, taken so depressingly
Peace out now, the path I wish to follow
It’s all good though, you won’t bail
Contentment cultivating Deelectable
Jul 16, 2010
Jul 16, 2010 at 2:48 AM UTC
**I read an ad recently
‘Get your Valentine’s day hampers while they last, order in advance lest you be disappointed’
But what I really read was…
'Get your Valentine’s day humpers while they last, order in advance lest you be disappointed’
Because I’m a clown like that
I make light of this day ‘Valentine’s’
The fourteenth day of the second month of every year
That makes everyone realize how attached or alone they are… really, I find that the most stupid fear...
Is the fear of not being paired up… yet
I say ‘yet’ because it’s going to happen sooner or later, more than once
Like it has happened before
But oh, you want to sulk and sob in your depressingly darkish room… behind the self made prison that is your closed door
Because you just want to wallow in self pity… because you're so low
Forever alone
Call me a *****
And a realistic one at that I like to think
But I find this entire obligation to have someone on this day quite unnecessary… which makes me kind of curious
As to who is really authentically ‘in’ love
And who is apparently “in love” for convenience reasons
These self made prisons
I joke through this day… with female friends, my true Valentines
No charades, no pretentious antics
Just funny nonsense with the coolest, realest fun chicks
To all those that have their better halves… well "power to you"
Way to go, we’re happy for you
You probably enjoy the most out of this day ‘Valentine’
I didn't mean to sound conceited… for we are all allowed to court
To be arrested by passion, maybe I’ll get past these ‘flings’ and also have my day in court…
Yeah, maybe someday I will have mine
Again.**
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 1:18 AM UTC
You’ve said
that you’re against
all wars
but yet you allow
your mind
to remain in darkness
depressingly
fighting a war within
yourself
I must
remind you
A Rose is a Rose
Love is Love
Just like
War is War
WAR
IS
WAR
MY FRIEND
It’s time to decide
what you’re going to do
with what’s happened
to you
Happiness doesn’t
come to you
It comes from you
It’s time to create
an environment
conducive to joy
WAR
IS
WAR
PERIOD!
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 4:29 AM UTC
I think I get addicted to things easily.
So it's very good I've never done any drugs.
My addiction is people.
When I find someone who makes me feel a certain way that I can't really describe except for manicly high highs and depressingly low lows,
I can get obsessed with that feeling.
I don't know how to stop except to go cold turkey.
I can hate them so much when I'm alone and then as soon as I see their name pop up in a text or talk to them out in public I am hooked again.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 11:36 AM UTC
The epitome of inequality.
Frosting is distributed unevenly;
caked gloriously on some,
depressingly absent on others.
Anger and frustration mount
each time a claw raises
uncoated multi-grains to my mouth.
But each time my grasp
manages to find
a sterling white mini-wheat,
I remember why
I put up with all the ****
But the question beckons,
whether or not
the absence of imperfections
would lessen the resonance
of the frosty treats
to my oral senses.
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 3:58 PM UTC
Everyone has those Edgar Allan Poe moments
When they sit depressingly
Thinking of the Death
That is around the corner
And all around them
They call them pessimistic
But in truth
They are just
Simply lonely people that need to be loved
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
What really hurts?
Make sure to be clear, misinterpretation can be fatal
In the game your brain plays.
Now for me, deception still holds a
warm cozy place in my head.
Eating on my decaying body,
trying so hard to reach my
essence.
Since after I realize this, I must
decipher the message:
I still lie to myself, telling myself I'm
Honest.
And dominately, I'm the follower,
the front follower.
I conclude: in depth, I'm sort of empty,
depressingly.
maybe I'll just sleep
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 6:19 PM UTC
The feeling of your touch replays in my memory.
Your warm embrace haunts me.
My bed does not comfort me anymore.
My sheets still faintly have your sent.
As I lay upon them, I lie miserably.
All these songs we sang don't sound the same.
Our picture hangs depressingly in its frame.
Missing you is eating me alive, but its these winter nights,
oh its these winter nights I miss you the most.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 2:09 AM UTC
He feels like sharing memes and finishing burritos; like snuggling on a bench when I'm shivering and letting me wear his jacket the wrong way. He feels like long phone calls and sarcastic remarks; like feeding ducks, and helping kids, and going kart racing, and being terrible at Mario kart. He feels like silly puns and bad humor, all the while still putting butterflies in my stomach. He feels like the heat in my cheeks when my classmates ask me about where my bracelets came from, and the pride in my heart when they say that he's cute. He feels like kissing in a park, holding hands next to fireworks, and giggling at the movies. He feels like sunshine and Rex Orange County. He feels like home, like someone who will always be able to make me smile, like someone who will endure a hug even if its awkward.
But he also feels like crying at 10pm in my room on Thanksgiving and clutching my chest because I can hardly breathe. He is in every sad song I've ever heard, and every depressingly artful photo I see. He is the bittersweet memory of a lost young love, and the fractured, splintery aftermath of trying to recover. He is sitting in a park alone for an hour, crying because you dont know if he's even going to come. He is the anxiety of being ignored for three weeks, then showing up to a party I'm at. He is the tear stained pillowcase from every time he has asked, "are you a waste of my time?" -- each one a separate fist to the stomach. He is the fear of never knowing what is going on in his mind and the constant worry of not being enough. He is the sadness and frustration of every Sunday morning with an empty chair. He is the moments I lie on the cold wood of my bedroom floor in the greying sunlight, salt mixing with my hair, and feeling empty. He is like the ache between my ribs everytime I'm left on read.
But he still feels like home, and he still feels like the only love I've ever known. And it's all about how it feels, right? And it's okay as long as he doesn't hurt those feelings...
Right?
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 8:11 PM UTC
There were many bots in the world
Only two models, one boy and one girl
All one in the same
So why have such a mass
Treading upon this broken glass
a path, a broken path
leading no where
breathing paid for air
bought out society
Are we too not one in the same
Why give a separate name
When the functionality remains conformed
Ah but there was one, one malformed
T'was one mistake
For heaven's sake
Such a mistake
This bot could feel
Why make such a big deal
He doesn't belong
He is not one of us
They all made a fuss
little did they know
his ways being followed
the narrow path
of broken glass
only this one with a destination
D3 was the name this infamous bot was given
this was the very bot by which V11 was driven
V11 too had a malfunction
feeling unsynthetically attracted to D3
she felt as though he was all her receptors could receive
They soon came for the two
D3 knew not what to do
his brown light reflection recievers
widened in fear
his auburn wires upon the bottom of his chin
spiked down, reciprocated grin
his black dome covering, waving in the misty wind
She took all blame
to society, 'twas a mere game
he failed to understand why
someone would throw their lives away; die
for someone else
there is no logical gain
yet he felt what he described as the undefined word; pain
As the society rejoiced, D3 depressingly watched
his eyes steadily locked
waiting for their portrayal of relief
but to his grief
they were dissatisfied
"He is still out there, anti-conforming others"
D3 than shuttered
For, the poor mistake of a bot caught wind
He was up against fate, there was no way he could win
Feeling the pain that he was causing
He slowly began to shake
He shed a tear, began to shed and break
for there was nothing for him to shed to
his human soul now free from his metal extrerior
the society began to feel inferior
his metal remains... let us speak not
the society... they remembered that they feel not
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 12:52 PM UTC
feels like numb, does numb have a feeling? yeah like pins and needles, pins and needles, pins and needles. pins in your pocket and needles in your arm. looking out the crack in the wall. afraid to venture out cuz you know that the minute you do some one will slit your throat, right up behind you and give you a red smile.then where will you be? in a red river washed up dried up made of ash, gust of wind can blow you away. looking down as you float thru the air settling on roof tops making this ***** with your soot. spread so thin like butter on toast fat free and free of insects quench your thirst on this stream of words spilling out my mouth like a fountain mildly manic depressingly sober sitting on the couch drinking mud and listening to tunes emanating from the floor destination unknown physical or mentally crying for something that is not with in reach unspecified specifications
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 3:24 PM UTC
Where the sun meets the sky
Where the sky falls into the sea
Where the sea drains off into space
and space melts into the stars
How did you get there?
How do I find you?
Save me, I'm lost.
We all need a place to rest our head.
Sometimes you find love there instead.
Love can be such a battlefield.
Where tides are ever changing.
All these slates are in need of cleaning.
But nothings ever easy.
We're both trapped in a race with no finish line.
Every time I catch my breath,
you take it right away.
Striving for perfection
in an imperfect world.
Trying so hard to escape
the tangible gravity of this town.
*Feel the wind.
Feel it rise.
Feel the light.
As it dies.
Hold my breath.
Hide the lies.
See the storm.
Ride the tides.
Find the words.
Make them right.
Steel the heart.
For the coming fight.
Stay the course.
Face the fear.
How hard it is,
with out you here.
Keep it simple.
Keep it sweet.
Hold safe my heart.
For next we meet.*
In a world gone crazy,
where do you find your own sanity?
When everything around you,
is caught up in money, sin, and vanity.
Its hard to feel down to earth,
when you can't feel it beneath your feet.
Its hard to get back up again and again.
When your so wrapped up in defeat.
How do you have a voice,
when you don't know the words to speak?
How can we say we're right,
when we protect the wrong, and cast out the meek?
It's hard to keep building bridges,
with so many more walls around.
Its hard to learn how to swim,
when all you've been taught is to drown.
It's getting so impossible
to offer a hand over a fist.
It's so depressingly sad
to see all the opportunities we've missed.
Where the sun meets the sky
Where the sky falls into the sea
Where the sea drains off into space
and space melts into the stars...
How did you get there?
How do I find you?
Save me, I'm lost...
Feb 18, 2012
Feb 18, 2012 at 6:20 AM UTC
*Rows of heads droop in meditation
The journey is slow and arduous
Along same path to same termination
Boring and depressingly monotonous!
An unbroken dullness hangs in the air
Emits a feel the travail is endless
And the heads drooping are in silent prayer
To reach at last their destined address!
For some the travel is not that far
They disembark earlier than many
For the ones left to ride further
Is prolonged the meditative agony!*
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 11:27 AM UTC
Some people, in trying to ascertain anothers character, ask;
If the world were to end tomorrow, what would you do?
Others, rather depressingly, ask;
If the world were to end today, would you notice?
Yet still there are those, who hope and search for a deeper meaning, who ask;
If the world had ended yesterday, would you understand?
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 4:46 PM UTC