"dispirited" poems
Hailstorms with big winds, trees writhing in breezes
Coyotes howling in moonlight, dogs when they sneezes
Alloys and carved toys, stone gargoyles with wings
These are a few of my favorite things.
Skunk smells carried gently on nocturnal breezes
Sly double entendres and tickley teases
Beautiful salmon colored sunsets that make my jaw drop
Smell of pine 'n cedar in my sauna and wood shop!
Dolphins and doggies and toddlers and mooses
Saunas and cold plunges and honking V-flying gooses
Small mutts and storytellers and Pixar cartoons
Crazy call of the Maine dark of night loons
These are some of my nurturing tunes!
Volcanoes with lava and magma all oozing
Cross country skiing just gliding and cruising
Receiving massages unwinding and unbruising
I love my collections of adhesives and strings
These are a few of my favorite things!
So when the wasps sting
When the bored people whine
Wen I'm feeling dispirited and sad
I just think of a few of my favorite things
And I don't feel…so…bad!
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 8:26 PM UTC
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
In a sea of regrets and torture.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
The anchor's too heavy.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
Hold my hand and lift me up.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
Just save me from my seas.
Dispirited am I,
To be myself and embrace the world.
Cut the threads of reality from my veins,
I am not worthy of this.
I am empathetic yet heartless.
I am mad and saddened.
Feel my walls slowly crumble,
Feel the cold blood gush from my veins,
I am dead to myself.
I am dead to myself.
I am dead to myself.
Nothing contains the darkness anymore;
It reeks everywhere I am.
This madman's too crazy to say those four letters.
Hop, rabbit, for the clock ticks faster than ever before.
Endless worries will flood your head.
Loop in a spiral of insanity,
Play the broken tunes you hid for too long.
Toyed are you too much
That tears never fall from your eyes no more,
Yet you still feel the pain.
Turn back to reality,
See the crumbling of You.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning.
See my body float in your despair.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
See my frozen heart shatter.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
Drain the murky waters.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
See me in moss and algae.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
Hell never felt so cold.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
Evergreen is the anchor that pins me to havoc.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
Let the ocean floor eat me alive.
I'm drowning, I'm drowning,
Plague all with the decay of my soul.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 1:28 PM UTC
like ****** driven samurai's & cerebral poisoned psychopaths we slay each other with words.
i choke you with my words and you hang me with yours, but we don't die.
instead all that pain lingers at the back of our eyes and it causes us to see red.
like sharp blades running through bruised skin from an injured soul, we silently dissect wounded minds. every one fights a battle.
s(words) are potent, carefully wield yours.
like lost swords in the wind.
im a samurai poet. i use words as oxygen to help you breath and by reading these words you breath again.
i use words as medicine to transfer positive energy to you, samurai reader.
im a samurai **** im a lost blade in the wind.
i use words like Martin Luther King and set free, i. i set myself free with my own words, i can because im a writer.
words are freedom. words are captivity. words are destruction. words are peace. the tongue is mighty powerful.
i use words to tell dispirited women that their beautiful because they grew up with the idea that beautiful is factory made products. the idea of beautiful is you.
i use words to tell hurt men that they can cry because they grew up being told tigers don't cry. crying is human, and i was told tears are wisdom distilled.
i use words to tell the youth they can be themselves because they grew up thinking acting like a fake gangster is all there is to life. the world is bigger than that.
im a samurai poet. a samurai **** these words are blades. **** life.
stay samurai cool.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 10:19 AM UTC
Those you haven’t victimized fear you.
Mighty and dreadful you seem.
Little do they know, you only seize flesh and control the mind.
You seize not the soul.
Hence be not proud.
You’ve dwelled in me for many years.
Imprisoned me to anti-epileptic drugs.
You’ve dispirited me.
You attack, seize, and control my mind.
Your attacks are but brief.
Epilepsy be not proud.
For I fear not what rescind only flesh.
I fear what abolish both soul and flesh.
Proportional to gravitational force I fell.
I’ve always find the forte to rise.
Epilepsy be not proud.
For against all odds, I’m still alive.
https://m.facebook.com/EpilepsyandCpfriends
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 6:10 PM UTC
Our town was to have a rail-line
Circa the mid eighteen nineties
This story has surprised my ears
A local amateur historian apprised me just recently
Documents to support this claim are archived in Sydney
Not far out of our town
On a well know property in the district
Two surveyor pegs are still in existence
Marking the route the rail-line was to track
Though the Forefather's rail-line was never bedded down
The powers that be government leaders of the day
Shelved these impressive plans
They never saw the light of day
Ribbons of steel not coming to fruition
Leading to our town
Other town went ahead rail-lines were established to them
Out town alas and alack missed out
Look where Tamworth and Armidale are to-day
Rail being in their favor
Our town was left to languish and to be dispirited
Going no-where no-where to go
Our Forefather's now lay in their graves
Not quite resting in peace
Their rail proposal for our town unrealized
Good ideas die along with good intentions
Hence their unsettled repose
Our town could have been a regional town
Industry and population dotting the landscape
Rail would have assured our place
The Forefather's rail proposal long since shelved
Consigned into the passing vapor of time
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 6:45 PM UTC
I'm making a pub pilgrimage,
A malted Mecca trip;
I'm leaving all I love at home
Crusading with the Picts.
I'll be alone with all my thoughts,
It's what must needs be done,
To keep the demons off.
Publicans meet me on the steps,
On Sundays by the side;
This trip of three thousand miles
May **** should I survive.
My altar's elbow worn,
The finest oaken wood;
I'll climb the stairs on knees,
Hear bells, raise cups of cheer.
There's games of chance,
Some romance,
With songs and several fools;
It has trappings of Canterbury
In pubs all called O'Tooles.
There's Highland mead,
And broken bread,
With harps from inner rooms,
I'll have dispirited spirits
And revel inside tombs.
My cave awaits on my return,
It's dark and hard and cold;
But I know the light's within my sight,
If I move this granite stone.
I'll bring with me a scapula
To make those visions stop,
The relics that I sought,
Those demons of a sot.
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 9:16 AM UTC
''When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary,
When troubles come and my heart burdened be,
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence
Until You come and sit awhile with me.”
<>
not hidden, for I reside in my accustomed spot,
but my face reveals a dispirited demeanor,
so most leave me alone, but not in peace,
late June, and the world less-than-august
These burdens which are weighty mighty.
are like weights in a trainer's vest,
while they can be removed,
only additions arrive, as screws
tightened to increase the threshold of
consternation and persistent pain insistent
the silenced aura within which I sit most patiently,
becomes both jailer and friend,
while I await your salvation arrival,
amidst tales of others who preceded me in this
waiting game predicament, most unsuccessfully,
admixed with stories of one or two
rewarded...
a tease, a stringy tale of hope, an endurance test,
to make my heart even more burdened be,
though wearied, yet unsuccmbed,
for I have seen you, existence verified,
and my patience knows no limits,
awaiting the cool of fall,
when the breezes bear and bare your scent,
and hints your returning presence,
changes the very meaning of
awhile
Jul 8, 2025
Jul 8, 2025 at 11:45 PM UTC
Find peace with your baffled mind
Induce equanimity in between your struggling breaths
Remedy the desolation with your flowing tears
Resign to the solitude with your dispirited shadow
Catch the glimpses with your swollen eyes
Wear a smile with your shivering lips
Seek solace in between your trembling fingers
Walk the steps with your hesitant feet
Gather strength from your shattered pieces
Feel your existence amidst your aching soul
Endure the sorrow with your feeble self
Preserve the love in your failing heart
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
All around me was a dark universe I cannot outrun
Endless rain of comets, parts of me strewn
Until you went and became my King Sun
And I, becoming your majestic Queen Moon
You filled my universe with eternal light
Passing through the dark recesses of my core
You made my faded spark ignite
Making me beam with delight forevermore
But the craters, they will never fade away
For they sometimes still remind me of darkness
Having me gone astray
Dispirited once again that I may never fluoresce
Yet, the King Sun illuminates ever so vigorously
And as long as he is there, I know we will reign endlessly
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 4:31 AM UTC
They said high school was a home of learning
Oh I learned alright
They said it would construct my future
All it did was destroy me with the past
They said it would be safe
They have no defense over the demons
They said it would develop me as a person
But I remain who I was... only shattered
They said so many things, yet understood so little
This goes to the pillow-clutchers
to the broken who carry soaked and salty handkerchiefs
to the flesh that thrive for streaks of red dripping out
to the souls that are constantly bombarded by screeches of lies
Lies that overrun every beauty in and out
Lies that lead to masochistic actions
Waiting for the second heartbeat after every punch
Hoping this would free the monsters trapped within
This goes to the insecure
No, we are not emo
How can one contain our being in just three letters?
We are not superficial pain lovers
We are violated, dispirited, downhearted, beaten, unsettled, splintered, forgotten
But we will never be merely emo
A high school is not filled with students
It is filled with labels, rumors, divisions and fake personas
filled with eyes that look straight into your soul
filled with whispers that spread like a virus
Getting worse and worse after every ear it has jumped into
Savages looking for the flaw that can destroy you
Until you break and mindlessly follow their example
**High school is where you lose who you are
And be who everyone else wants you to be**
Everyone thought I was just being vain
Always staring at the mirror, trying to be cute
Never did it come into their minds that I was already believing the lies
ready to accept the rumors
using FINE as my own maxim
**** I'm Never Enough
But I waited
Waited for someone to drive out the beasts
to heal my scars
to fill my emptiness
Yet until now I remain drenched in loneliness and fear
High school is worse than hell
A quick and small crack in your soul hurts more
Than an eternal burn of your flesh
This is why we're ready to see the light come out of our eyes
But I'm holding on
For you need pain before you're declared strong
For you need darkness before you see the stars
For you need death before you reach heaven
For where there are angels,
there will always be demons
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
Behold bright symphonic Blast!
Halt the snail bite damage of youth.
There is none to resist the place and time of one who missed the equal avenue.
Dropping before your phantom, dispirited dew, before shadow portrait drops.
Swine with silver throats!
Corpse of embers preamble multi-various multi-vacuous semi-forte polar rhythms.
Sequencing selves in wood and wire. Pinions at drifted tempo, quavering for poly-syllabic idioms,
In sectioned hostels for their sense and glory restrung.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 10:30 AM UTC
Behind the house with the fragmented windows
and the corroded pipes
and the cobwebs and ages under the stairs,
she buried herself
under the earth and grime
until the roots contained her decayed soul
and encased around her brittle scarred limbs.
Until the dirt crept down her windpipes,
until her tarnished lungs were suffused
with ashes and dirt.
Until roots replaced her veins and
smothered her cracked ribcage.
Behind the house with the fragmented windows,
under the grass and gravel,
that was rougher than
her mother’s dispirited retorts,
where she once capered and skipped, and never thought
would become her grave.
By the ethereal creatures she played with
in her younger and more susceptible years.
Dig up her bones but leave her soul.
Who would ever want cruel contaminated beauty
as a periphery for such a fouled soul?
It was when she stopped falling asleep on the way home,
when her nightlight ceased to make her feel safe,
when a lover’s unlawful kisses replaced her family’s amity,
when a lover’s lethal passion parted her lethal loneliness,
when home became a person and not a place,
was when she buried herself
behind the house with the fragmented windows.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 9:22 AM UTC
Can someone please trade me eyes?
It's unknown how they still have sight
Every since I was 6 the sense have witnessed gruesome events
Now my eyelids flicker past them very seldom
My lacrimal glands have trouble producing saline
I find it nearly impossible for beatitude to gleam from my eyes
And I cannot search for something that my eyes feel sorrow for
Let me at least borrow yours?
Please
So I can see how it feel to grieve
So that tears of joy can travel down my cheeks
I want humor to cause me to wink
I want my reflexes to cause me to blink
Pleeeeeeaaassseeee?
I stand there in the face of danger
When I should be aware
Instead I just stare
...
No glare
Just dispirited
The statical behavior that my eyes inherited
Suppress me from all charity
I'm begging you
No one looks me in my face and feels warmth and comfortability
All that they see is two white igneous rocks
When I wish that they can see marshmallows
That's why I need your help
The optometrist said there's nothing that he can do
That's why I'm coming to you
I just wanna be inspired by life
Can you show me how the world look again just for one day?
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 9:41 PM UTC
The ivory of the egotistical lily,
The morning hymn of the pious jenny,
The dazzling ebony African beauty,
The sweet spice that seasons my honey,
Rain thy glaring love once again
Upon my careless dispirited pride,
As I rain these tender tears
Upon this stagnant dry land,
I have tasted thy venial venom
With seasonal ache and repentance,
Now, purge my narrow breath of life
From this wicked roaring hunter
Who fire’s at my forlorn nights,
Do not preserve this deficit of mine
For our innocent image,
Lest the gods of the City of the Dead
Keep close to our naked hut,
Calibrate my disobedience with thy soft wind,
And let not thy fierce storm approach,
Resurrect my muscles from the grave
And cover my bones with the flesh of thy kisses,
Open thy wonderful cataract to stream
From thy tongue into my barren bones,
And seal my cockcrow and thy twilight
In the clouds of thy slender cotton wool,
Come, oh my dear Kabutuwaa,
Come and visit my farm this bedtime
And let us **** the blazing stars mutually,
Set free the promising arrow of my daylight
And the pretty bow of thy nightfall
Via the thick murkiness of this gulf,
Allow me to crawl up thy tree of life
And taste of its couple peach anew,
For my craving lips longs for thy
Indispensable eternal ******
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
you of pharmaceutical lens,
Concrete handed
sharp edges rounded,
colours slandered,
you womb-safe,
blanketed,
bleeting sounds
non-threatening,
Shadow individual
Deodorant mojo,
the man-made park,
well governed hair
lips are moist and plumped up,
a conveyor belt human,
bowel movements and idle chatter are corporate losses,
Neglect that which is outside this Kingdom,
the office must remain hermetically sealed to ensure maximum shareholder profits
breathing in sand and time,
this here void of monotony,
numbly dispirited
poor food and no discipline (that's you),
face is sallow
sagging,
you are nothing,
not really,
your bonus will be paid at the end of this month.
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 7:00 AM UTC
Slaughtered agonies,
Afloat in my jagged saliva
My anguish anchors the arch that revealed me
Morally dispirited, me breathing you
Hysteria smothering the hallucinations
Intoxication anxieties compounding
Into a hopeless staggering daze
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
Glowing Windows embedded into mouldy brick walls
Ivy climbing the gutters of neighbourhood roofs
Skies becoming burnt out like charred blackened fields
Tall spiny trees project shadows onto the road below
Leaves curl up to receive some weakening light from above
A formation of sputtering cars cling to each turn they decide to make
Cloudy milky light bounces off faulty windows that exhale the aroma of somebodies impending supper
A heavy truck manoeuvres itself into the blistered bitumen horizon
Dry deflated branches make obscene gestures towards passers-by
Gardeners rummage through their bags as they near the end of their working day
Their faces filled with an expired enthusiasm for breathing
Parked hunks of metal pelted with dead itchy leaves
Windscreen wipers hold fragile twigs down against grotty neglected glass
Chain-link fences link disparate housing and the sleeping people within
Some dispirited unsatisfied psychos gaze up as they catch a moving bus
Smoky Incense billows down from some apartment balcony
The air becomes cold and sharply fills these ordinary streets
Engine sounds try to supress the divine quietness
They only merge into it
Now the stars are out and about
Bright specks waddling in an aerial pool of dark blue
You turn the key and walk through the front door
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 11:24 AM UTC
the heart
cannot repair
the heart
in much despair
the heart
missing these pair
the heart
feels the unfair
exiled from the venue
our writing brothers
their words expelled
by unseen smothers
swift the extradition
of a movement quick
the removal done
with a rapidness of click
no more seeing the
works they did ably create
our kinsmen vanishing
off the forum's slate
the heart languishing
without our kindred
being around
the heart so dispirited
their expression fell
silent of sound
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 10:32 PM UTC
Unfinished
Emptiness a question enrobed in nothingness stillness cries across the void in its intolerable
State you stand the will wilts the eyes portray defeat and sorrow a searching longing is plainly evident
This powerful demanding current must be appeased chaos screams the idle continues his dreams
Faltering movements are all that is known a stationary seizure pervades the deadliest image an old
Amusement park dead and deserted a mocking sign proclaims thrills inside the torment rushes like
A stampeded herd it threatens sure death your own plaintive dead voice is heard in this arena of
Dispirited dashed hopes a mauling traumatized and once energetic hope filled spirit that trouble
Assailed Then fell back and then with the genius touch as you reeled it simply fell away your steps to
Recover Also ceased with the careless and deadliest words of all what is the point this has become your
Standard if titled in great black letters it would read lackluster lying in the dirt whipped defeated
Disgusted exiled in oblivions nowhere hope has had the first letter changed to D yes Dope in capital
Letters little do you Realize this is the very act of reconstruction the best military force in the world
Engages in this kind of training someone who has potential is the tried and true diamond in the rough a
Superior force is needed take the outward restraints off by reducing the individual to his base when you
Have destroyed the unfavorable elements then begin the renewing process that is clean and absent of
Impurities build with tried and true methods that produce heroes from fired kilns the blaze flared and a
New form emerges pure as refined brass but the man or woman is steeled into purity and honor and is
Made ready to pass into combats immortal glory whether it be military, business, or sacred duty of the
Church know this before just a nameless conflicted person little thought of will do exploits he will put
New building Blocks in societies ever increasing wall and maybe ultimately he will fulfill the words of
Jefferson and by blood sacrifice his patriotism will cause the tree of liberty to flourish because the call to
Fight for peace is never finished
Jan 29, 2012
Jan 29, 2012 at 6:19 PM UTC
On his head
was tattooed
a number,
While through
his mind flew
destruction..
Over his shoulder blew Kong,
and upon Kong's war plate of torture,
and a vice gripped and girdled waist,
with spikes tipped to rip any mans flesh.
A chain mail vest webbed with deceit,
and acute, dispirited despair
lay sheathed beside his broad hips.
You see him and terror grips,
when through his eye
your eyes are reflected.
What is your number.
Guess all
you want,
it can't be read
back to front
in the mirror.
It can't be
scrubbed clean
with the finest of lye.
Your number is your number
and when it's up, it's up.
© 2005
All Rights Reserved
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 3:37 AM UTC
they positioned their little bodies
on their big, silver rocks
shaded by aluminum trees and
innocence
one of them bobbed the head
of a stuffed animal like mine,
rotting in my bedroom but alive in his humble hands
as he asked if they could be
friends forever.
I don't want to say he is naive,
but sat upon this distant park bench
I'm less than dispirited to admit
that the aluminum trees can crumble;
the silver rocks will rust, and
that it was, in fact, his own little hand
bobbing in false reassurance;
as he already relied on something
artificial
for solace.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 9:50 PM UTC
Outsiders, we have our own exiles, and
the terrors of walls and fences.
The human touch
electrifies, convulsively. Shock. Wash
your hands of it all, the beggars, the crows, the
dispirited continual winter. We want
nothing more than an island
a ditch to dive into
an unmarked grave.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 5:17 PM UTC
Blessed are the poorly, for theirs is the kingdom of mudflats
The dispirited streak turgid waters
sinuously, through unsettled feelings
in the wake of boats shedding
filaments of fuel,
sheen on a turbid infusion
and the cordgrass nods a resilience
or an apathy as the silt settles
on their Piscean gleam
Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see a salted heaven
Angelic Menhaden of the Atlantic,
are silvery stretches of scale,
dulled in death under a festering sun
and the retreating tide of dying waters
brined in ocean, freshwater spirited
to secret spaces, some dammed crevasse,
now tumultuous fate in a salted heaven
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they shall be filled
At the Tabgha of this intertidal palette
Cattails whisper beatitudes
latched onto the tails of wind gusts
and the plovers descended
in a litany of bird song
amassed like the manna
trailing tidal waters
as the sea swallows herself.
Blessed are the herons, the mallards,
the geese. Time is measured
in the passage of fish that
cycle themselves through the innards of birds
Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the rocks
The meek Menhaden, leaped
onto the rocks that hemmed the inlet,
escaping the hungry habits of herons.
They inherited Earth in agony
pounding a rocky surface,
but the air I swim, had no water.
I prodded these Menhaden of the Rock
to the fringe of retreating tides,
and they leaped to die once more
to breathe water that had no air
Blessed are those that mourn, for they shall be comforted
Blessed is the discomfiture
of my brackish tears
that streak marsh faces
as fish struggle out of dead water.
I take comfort I don't inhabit
tainted places or do I take comfort,
all places are the tint of poison,
the gleam of a genesis of sorrow
Jun 6, 2021
Jun 6, 2021 at 3:36 PM UTC
It's 3am and I'm awake for the second time.
Is it fair how some people just cruise through life?
What is this dispirited feeling -am I being punished?
I go to bed tired and I wake up tired, overwhelmed with lethargy.
Life happens in slow motion with a sense of hopelessness -
with Red Bull, ***** and caffeine being my only source of comfort.
How long is this going to last?
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 6:09 AM UTC
Sometimes we feel
Discouraged
Despondent
Dispirited and Crestfallen
By the world
And all its
Melancholy
Morose
Disconsolate
It's so despairing
Wretched
Dejecting and woebegone
It seems a neverending blue
Wrapping around you
Pulling your smile down
And devouring
There is a cure
Called ice-cream
Feel like a kid again
With a few licks
You'll forget about
The sad things
The cool cream
Vanilla swirl
In chocolate covered eye dreams
Don't be conquered by the world
And all it screams
Just grab your self a cone
Of your favorite flavor known
And enjoy the cure
Called ice cream
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 3:27 PM UTC