"disregarded" poems
Picked up and dragged through the air of violent twilight.
Crash landing into each world of pain.
Grow up; learn up she told herself.
Red lipstick, tight dress; bad girl good. Unrested she was, she was unrest.
Unrest in her mind, unrest in distress.
That girl was nocturnal,
her life was night.
Although star & moons glared,
reluctantly lit,
her blue skies were none but bottomless pits.
Duck duck GOOSE, once a child without care;
I choose YOU, life spitefully said.
GROW UP; LEARN UP, she scolded herself.
Keep your head up, keep it down.
Too much air, too much water,
too much CONSCIOUSNESS.
Low then high then low again.
One minute was 60,
but she blinked and it was over.
So much time was so little.
Disregarded, she became the Object of obsession.
Danced too fast, danced too slow;
never by the beat of her heart.
Chaos!
Calamity!
Joy!
Insanity!
GROW UP, LEARN UP; she forgot herself.
The madness before the storm,
the storm of never-end.
She had to grow up, she had to learn up.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC
A wild flight into drizzled dark night
The chorus line thumping
Overcome by roar and strain
Of metal tested to limits as we race
An endless risk disregarded as thought
And the sound of a bright giggle
Wondrous eyes lit in thrill of threat
Fear has no place in this setting
A manic gleam and set to her face
Sharing a secret as we laugh and howl
Because this is who we are
For all out control and desire
We scream endlessly through life eternally silent
Until we do not have to be
And in glory we release!
Fear is a thing to be learnt
A feeling to ******* and freeze
Is it felt here?
A resounding no! Shatters the question
In the screech of tires
In the surge of adrenaline
In the wild savage smile of freedom
Of a shout into the night in defiance of order!
Does my heart race as we tear around?
Not even a tremor! Until I turn,
My face from the moaning wind rushing past
And i gaze upon this savage exposed
Lips pulled back in ferocious glee
A focused and fierce glare to the world
We deny life and taunt the spectre
Come to us, we cry!
The paths are slick with tears of the gods
The roads tempestuous writhing in deceit
I sit in peace, relaxed
A warrior companion at my side
We know no fear of what may come
For trust
Ah trust
Is the colour of life
Ever shadowed as a challenge to endings!
She lights as a fire of the brightest stars
And i would embrace her
Burning endlessly.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC
We live in a world where:
An illusion is called reality
And truth is a conspiracy;
Slavery is freedom
And all work is tough work;
Logic makes no sense
And school numbs the brain;
Our faith lies in those in power
And materialism is the religion;
We want to stand out
But keep trying to fit in;
Blood is not always family
And our tools are our best friends;
Friends are actually enemies
And love is equated to lust;
Peace is fought for
And humility is weakness;
Priorities come last
And talent is disability;
The wolves are the sheepdogs
And the Shepherd is ignored;
Our way of life leads to death
And medication vitiates;
Sanity is madness
And creativity is destroyed;
The past is disregarded
And the future seems bleak.
Centuries ago,
Shakespeare left us the question: To be or Not to be?
I guess it is clear which answer we chose.
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
Everything is fine
Until you pop into mind.
In a casual thought
Or a dream so vivid
I can almost touch you
Why?
When he has done so much to help me heal from you
But you are still here to taunt me in my mind
You were the thing I wanted, but could never have in the end
In my dreams, he taught me many things
He let me laugh
He never disregarded my heart
Or payed more attention to himself
He let me do things you never would have accepted with ease.
But still, we always go back to those who cage us in
As much as we realize it is not for the best
We still subconsciously want it
Because we get used to our cage
It is home
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
Shifting, sand underfoot
and the moon bent
in reflected splendor, up from the sea, and from the
tresses of your hair;
black, in that time
of dreaming.
The stars,
innumerable in their glory,
wink down at
us gently as we walk,
their mysteries
disregarded.
for in your eyes
lie the sum of
their light.
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 7:21 PM UTC
The first time I saw you,
Standing up on stage,
Your gentle protruderence beckoned,
I yearned for your girth.
Standing alongside one Michael Cassio.
A Florentine.
My eyes could not escape.
I disregarded my A1 in English,
All I wanted was the D.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 6:41 PM UTC
My magnificent mundane.
Tedious tasking and chores galore!
Unappreciated.
And disregarded as un-glamorous duty.
But there is something to be learned in folding loads of laundry.
Patience.
Satisfaction through servitude.
Attention to detail.
And most importantly... attention to Love.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
A waste paper bin
Left in the corner.
Containing little folded up letters,
Discarded as the heart was.
A gang of stupid teenage vandals having a laugh,
Disregarded what they had done.
Disposed of the butts irresponsible after having their smokes,
In the bin.
Not doused.
The silly lads.
Wandered away.
They did not see the smouldering,
the burning in that bin
The origami scraps,
Folded as swans,
Too charred to fly away.
Sadly written on the innards of the origami swans,
Words carried on love letters never to be seen again.
Their love was carried away on a puff of white smoke.
(c) Livvi
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 8:51 PM UTC
when i was 4 i was ashamed of feminity
when i was 5 i started comparing myself to other girls
when i was 7 i weighed myself on a daily basis
when i was 8 i thought that if i wasnt skinny i wasnt beautiful
when i was 10 i learned the word ****
when i was 12 i hurt myself because i didnt think i was good enough
when i was 13 i wore a shirt that showed my shoulders in school. i was told i was asking for it
when i was 14 i had to go to a psychologist because my self esteem was so low i wanted to die
i still cant wear a skirt without someone commenting on its length
i still cant speak my mind and have a man take me seriously
i still cant mutter the word "feminism" without a boy looking at me like i'm ****
i still look in the mirror and hate myself
i still wonder if im asking for it
i still worry about walking the streets alone and my brother never did
i still get asked why i need feminism
because being called a girl is an insult
because men STILL think its all about men
because im more worried about being ***** than how my grades are
because no matter how smart i am, a boy is somehow better
because girls still die everyday as feminism is disregarded
because feminism is "a joke"
because "why isnt it called equalism?"
because i feel that we are worth it
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC
red lights yet, seeing
signs in the green.
are you friend or fiend?
may we both come in peace?
crop circles get dusted off.
all curfews must dissolve.
if our virtue is up to par,
please let us be.
upheld laws
will get disregarded.
cops caught off guard
by gargoyles gawking
at dawn's sweet offspring,
this broad's in a stand still.
villains chill alleys
these foes just can't ****
as the girl cops an anvil
ready to drop her mans
onto a large canvas
full of hurt,
red paint and tequila
as her quills dry up does she
still see city lights as freedom?
curbside dances in the moonlight
earning keeps for a teen son.
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 1:27 AM UTC
I must be floating somewhere in the fourth dimension.
I feel like I’m a formula in quantum mechanics:
Complex and misunderstood…
But if you know my concept well enough
I can be broken down into numbers and logarithms
That even a layman could understand
With a basic knowledge of math and science
Before he drops out of the university,
Because who has the patience
To simplify me?
You're the scientist and mathematician
Who disregarded imaginary numbers
Due to theoretical imperfections
Even if it was your thesis.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
#***" Don't walk behind me; I may not lead.
Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow.
Just walk beside me and be my friend." - Albert Camus***
~ ~ ~
The telegraph road circled through the foothills,
rising towards the majestic mountain high
It’s been a long and twisting passage soon forgotten,
with the pavement abruptly dead ending,
just below the timberline
The dawning blue heavens look so much closer now
Just a step away from standing within reach
The birds uplifted on the telegraph wire rest atop me;
perched on the final material traces
disregarded by a digital world
My awakening soul is ascending beyond
the distant alpine meadow horizon
At the threshold of an untrodden wilderness wonderland,
climbing up above the meandering clouds
It’s exhilarating to look back and know
there is no turning back around;
I’ve never been higher
and can never get back down
What unknown frontier lies in wait before me now?
Just on the other side of the impossible dream?
The last step forward to find the next step beyond the bounds
There is not that much that changes,
when we just repeat the same old song
The atmosphere’s thin air leaves me gasping for wings
Like dust and ashes free to soar with the tempest breeze
If only time would sever these loathsome ties that bind
The ones that enchain the weight of this load unto me
While understanding the pace to a long journey’s rhythm
The only barometer you have to trust is in your heart
Adaptation is at the core of freedom's survival
But it feels almost like running away
I have felt the fear of falling with nothing left to lose
I’ve climbed as far as flesh and bones can reach
I've come this far always feeling subtly afraid
It has been a great distance back from the beginning;
knowing I must take these last steps alone.
Understanding it was love that brought me here
Naturally tugs at the spirit in my soul encouraging me on
I'll keep searching for the shining light of guidance
Listening for a voice that softly beckons me home...
written by: harlon rivers ... May 24th, 2013
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 10:18 AM UTC
I still remember that night. I remember how I felt before it happened more vividly than how I felt after. I think I remember it so well because that was the last time I ever felt whole.
My shorts were short
my ******* were wet
my sweet little cherry had yet to be popped.
Your intentions filled the room as I admired the spit drool on the side of your lips. The uneasy smirk on your face. You wanted a lot more than to "just get laid." I was far too young to even begin to understand the parts of my body you knew not to touch.
As you kissed me down my neck and your manhood grew harder, my spine quivered and my fear shook. My mother always told me to follow my gut and when I did you grabbed me and you told me not to listen to it. You told me to ignore what I didn't want for the sake of your temporary pleasure. You disregarded my comfort and put your **** ahead of my feelings.
You yanked my legs open and your ripped me into two pieces, and till this day I have yet to find the other half you stolen from me, and I swear I almost see it everyday when I stand ahead of myself naked infront of my mirror but I can never stare at myself long enough to grab me in and make myself whole again.
Do you see what you have done to me? Was each stroke of stolen pleasure worth every jump I make when the man I love touches me with permission? Was your everlasting ****** sounds of moans and sighs escaping from your lips, echoing in my stomach and spilling out in my tears worth me cutting myself open every night since?
I guess it was because at least I'm giving myself permission opening myself up. At least the pain has consent. At least the blade dragging across my skin silenced the sound of your pleasure inside of me. At least the blood from my wrist dripping onto the bathroom floor isn't mixed with your ***
At least I have the choice to put just a little more pressure in and I wont have to be reminded of you anymore.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 5:27 AM UTC
The Nail-biter saw her as his saving grace from a life of lonesome worry
She saw him as a meal ticket and a free ride
He over looked her granny ash
He disregarded her speech impediment
Always holding his tongue when she stumbled on certain words because he loved her and all her imperfections
She had a bullet proof black hole heart and his common sense was stuck in a sound proof cell as they had what seemed to him to be, passionate ***
He worked day and night, coming home with dishpan hands
Saving up to buy her a bouquet of hydrangeas, tulips and baby's breath
She took them and said, "Wow, thank you you're such a good friend"
The Nail-biter left and drove his car into the nearest embankment
She did not attended the funeral, she was too busy having dinner with The man with OCD who didn't have tics but tocks
She knew the routine and loved every second of it
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC
Land of the free
you seem to call it
But the freedom
only seems to fall
on one end of the spectrum
one side of the scale
And when the scale tries
so excruciatingly
to balance itself
When it comes crashing down
in an attempt to be heard,
to make a sound,
It is met with cries of outrage;
With a selfish victimization of,
“what about us?”
“don’t we matter too?”
but that’s not the point,
now is it?
The scale
isn’t screaming out any less
for the importance of
one side
by trying to give an inch of importance
to the disregarded other.
Black Lives Matter.
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 11:09 AM UTC
I still remember that night. I remember how I felt before it happened more vividly than how I felt after. I think I remember it so well because that was the last time I ever felt whole.
Your intentions filled the room as I watched the drool on the side of your lips. The uneasy smirk on your face. You wanted a lot more than to "just get laid." I was far too young to even begin to understand the parts of my body you knew not to touch.
As you kissed me down my neck, my spine quivered and my fear shook. My mother always told me to follow my gut and when I did you grabbed me and you told me not to listen to it. You told me to ignore what I didn't want for the sake of your temporary pleasure. You disregarded my comfort and put your **** ahead of my feelings.
You yanked my legs open and your ripped me into two pieces, and till this day I have yet to find the other half you stolen from me, and I swear I almost see it everyday when I stand ahead of myself naked infront of my mirror but I can never stare at myself long enough to grab me in and make myself whole again.
Do you see what you have done to me? Was that temporary pleasure from my little 13 year old body worth the pain I face today? Was that stolen pleasure worth every jump I make when the man I love touches me with permission? Was your everlasting ****** sounds of moans and sighs escaping from your lips, echoing in my stomach and spilling out in my tears worth me cutting myself open every night since?
I guess it was because at least I'm giving myself permission opening myself up. At least the pain has conscient. At least the blade dragging across my skin silenced the sound of your pleasure inside of me. At least the blood from my wrist dripping onto the bathroom floor isn't mixed with this filth.
At least I have the choice to put just a little more pressure in and I wont have to be reminded of you anymore.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 9:13 PM UTC
I pledge allegiance
to all the stones in the road
that have given me succor,
to every poet-of-anywhere
who greets me
with wetted, parted lips and open heart,
who greets the sun-rays shared, inching,
opening o'er my yet living,
praying body, reminding me
that I am alive,
that I am warm
that I feel poetry in, on,
cells, all over, deep in my extremities
Most importantly, in my busted heart,
where warmth is stored in a soul restored,
and Life affirmed,
For who knows how
many more times
I will know this,
How many more times
I will able compose this,
Play "measure the future''
in seconds or years and
grimaced smiles over tears,
or just one or the other,
that be willed to supersede;
Will keep you posted
in every realized and many some stillborn poem,
rising with the grand entrance of morn skies,
or perhaps, lies buried neath in each horizon's cemetarial,
and
even those,
that straddle a confusing and confused moon,
of a twenty fours hours existence,
be shoulder-borne,
bathed in
combinatorial equatorial
moon & sun light,
so we can bathe, like Bathsheba (1)
by both,
and delight
at the exact same moment's portent,
no matter,
the disregarded, discarded,
why
we are
who we are
when pledge and plead
allegiance to those eyes that read our scrivenings
nml
Aug 27, 2025
Aug 27, 2025 at 11:57 AM UTC
She leaves a trail of broken heart
in her wake.
Like the River Styx, but
very much alive.
On the outside,
one would look at her and say
she's a faerie nymph
flighty, giddy and naive.
She treats boys like playthings-
they would say,
draw them to her and spit them out
her pixie pranks bereft of benevolence.
They are Theseus and Leucippus
heroes victimized by false love
they say,
the underdogs.
She is to blame.
On the inside, however,
it's a different story.
They fixate on her,
fall in love without consulting her first.
To them,
consent is an idea
and an abstract any-thing.
Something to be taken lightly or disregarded
You see,
consent is more than a verbal yes
and consent is more than ****** thing.
Consent is communicating your intent
before acting on it
and getting permission.
So it should be the same with falling in love.
No one owes anyone anything.
Best friend, dark loner type, new boy/girl in your life,
consider this before you vilify someone
for what they don't feel.
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 10:54 PM UTC
street cred makes a boy a man
able to take care of business declares manhood
then why are they actin fools around women
playen, traden and, braken hearts
forgetting that is someones daughter, sister, mother, etc
women give birth to men and are trampled on by men
humiliated, disrespected, disregarded, mistreated, abused and, neglected
all with a smile and honey coated words
sweat melting int he mouth bitter swallowing
disturbing to the stomach, difficult to ***** out
trapping women desperate for safety
proudly declaring: "i am man"
sealed with appalling behaviour
this is how i see the generation, from which i have to choose my mate from
party,high maintenance girls chosen
dependable good women ignored
this begs the question what is a real man
lots declare publicly, i am a good man
bias and subjected words to safe faded honor
honor
a word created to make ego taste better
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 4:38 PM UTC
Often, when I’ve escaped the strain,
The weight, the freight, burdening encumbrance
Of human society, community unleashed,
Profound distress, and a bit on the side—
I’ll contemplate
Of their judgements unknown,
Their penetrating, presumptuous eyes—
They tell me they love me, reputation irrelevant,
Trespasses, failures, habits—all disregarded,
And still I laze in my quaking of
Sleeplessness from apprehension
Pondering their thoughts obscured by their words
Heavens, a shrieking invasion!
Please don’t take that as the slightest indication
That I’m in any case a half-benevolent essence of them all
My ruminations drenched with a display of myself, my actions, my appearance
That’s proof enough that I can’t occupy a moment without me as the focal point
How can anyone be so vain
Low self-esteem shall consume my life, my breath,
And all of those thoughts,
So soon to drain...
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
It felt so good
I disregarded the taste
It was worth the try
To have it as my first
The disgust was gone
The pleasure took part
Be with me and I'll bear it
To have it forever
Locking with mine
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 6:06 AM UTC
I was there.
In times of need, I was there.
Hugging you tight, even though in pain. I stayed.
Always beside you even when I’m too weak to stand up.
When you needed me, I disregarded everything.
Every pain, every emotions, every single problems I have.
I stayed strong, because you needed me.
Endless chances, endless pain.
It doesn’t go away, but then I was still there.
At your darkest days and all the lies you made, I still believed.
But then where were you when I needed real help?
When I wanted to be better, why didn’t you believed?
I wanted to change, I wanted to make up for what I did.
I wanted to be better.
I wanted to be better.
I wanted to be better.
But then I’m all alone, in tears hugging myself.
No one believed and everyone else wants to leave.
Still, I stayed. I was always there.
Apr 11, 2022
Apr 11, 2022 at 11:58 PM UTC
When they came to my island, the
hero and his crew (more like
an invasive species
of uninvited animals)
The rot from their unwashed feet spilled everywhere--
infestations of foul--
They plucked grapes from my vines slowly, with pride,
as if they kept them themselves,
They came into my cave and stole sheep’s milk and cheese--
The blessed feta: vanished!!
And you wonder why I snacked on two--I had nothing else!
They disregarded emptied wine bottles in clusters in the sand,
Kept me awake in the evening with boisterous, hoglike squeals.
And when I let out a scream myself,
A cry to my native land, to my father,
I spotted my herds scurrying from the cave,
with little hands floating atop their fur,
Then came the electrifying pain
I see a staff, feel the hit, become
disabled.
They took everything and left me blinded
And he is still the hero?
He told me he was Nobody.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 6:37 PM UTC
When the man at the hardware store asks,
what shade of blue are you looking for sugar,
to paint the walls of our hypothetical son's room,
I would have said heartbreak,
the same shade of heartbreaking blue as his daddy's eyes.
Ironic, because I would have rooted for a gender neutral colour,
an agnostic upbringing and a liberal education,
but somewhere down this erratic, dysfunctional relationship,
I stopped caring, or perhaps, cared only of you.
Since you left there's nothing to care about,
there's no you, there's no us, there's no motivation,
my priorities, values and aspirations are still maintaining a distance,
I'm feeling a heartbreaking shade of blue.
Like that one time I got high on dried out ****
I was completely aware of every stage of this breakup,
the shock, the disbelief, the sadness, the pain, the regret,
until it stopped.
The world has come to a standstill,
leaving me tripping between spring and snowflakes on the windowsill,
I'm not coming down from the high, or low,
I should have got you out of my system 4 years ago.
It's not a linear process, said my friend,
and I know what he means,
because for everyday I get through without thinking of you,
I spend weeks curled up in pain in bed or on the floor,
feeling a heartbreaking shade of blue.
Kept awake at night, weary, paranoid and deluded,
suffocated, drowned in despair, sometimes even in air,
in the shallow words, empty promises and plans made,
thrown into solitary confinement among hundreds of other people,
breaking me, when I'm already broken.
All while you stripped me of my dignity, intuition and optimism,
disregarded my needs, exploited my insecurities and wasted my heart,
I thought I knew you,
come to think of it, I don't think your eyes are blue.
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 8:44 AM UTC