"dissatisfaction" poems
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No, He said.
I want you
wanting.
*I want to taste the miracle of your desperation,
need,
lick the sweet sweat of tense from the hairline well hid
on the back of your pleasuring neck.
I need your needing constant completion,
but not succeeding.
The airborne aroma of your desires are fiery, arousing,
stimulus sensating me by the unending beauty of dissatisfaction,
this virus desirous, infection, makes my perpetual wanting
for an incomplete perfect woman,
forever seeking betterment,
perfectly complete.*
<>
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 12:54 PM UTC
A green eyed monster within,
in behaviour satan's akin.
Other's possessions are his attraction,
flies on wings of dissatisfaction.
Hopes more for other's loss than his gain,
can take ugliest of forms without constraint.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
If you gotta dream, show me
Reveal it to the world
And own it
If you gotta passion,
Disown your inaction
And make a habit of climbing the steep hill of your goals,
Or else dissatisfaction will echo in your soul
Go after your dreams fearlessly,
You've got all the potential you need,
Just find the why for the motivation you lack,
Conjure the reasons why you've laid low and cut yourself slack,
Well, you can't hide behind excuses no more,
Because you're a dazzling star and you're too bright to hide behind confining bars
You think you're a nobody?
Too scared to show your true colors?
Hey, you better get out there on that red carpet and like a peacock flaunt all your magnificent beauty,
And not even for a moment doubt yourself
Or listen to the chickens cluck **** about you on the sidelines
You've got a dream
Stop hiding it under your bed
And make it into your reality
You ain't think life got magic,
But it's full of meaning
Once you awaken from your brain dead anxiety
Because you worry too much of what people think of you
Your heart will come alive, beating with all the colors of the rainbow and the music you love will revive you,
I speak from experience,
Stop letting your fears hold you back,
Because they are just lies
No one is gonna believe in your dream as much as you do,
Not until you accomplish what you dream of, when you get there then they'll believe you
What else have you got to live for
But your dream!
It's your purpose
And it's your responsibility
To make your dream a reality
Not until then will you be able to see
The magic that both surrounds us and lives inside of you and me.
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 4:44 AM UTC
it
takes
a lot of
desperation
dissatisfaction
and
disillusion
to
write
a
few
good
poems.
it's not
for
everybody
either to
write
it
or even to
read
it.
13.6k
only the moon knew her darkest secrets, the depth of her thought was the deepest, up all night, its something she does frequent, she's an angel from heaven, that fell for a demon, a beautiful image, turned into a broken spirit, constant arguments and disagreements,
her smile held pain, but she stuck to concealment, because her friends and the world were incoherent, I got to see her smile one day, ever since then, nothing has been the same,
she no longer puts that same smile on her face, she once felt grace, but it turned to disgrace, the beauty she holds is inexplainable, the purity in her soul is gold, yet unattainable, because she no longer holds trust,
what she thought was love, turned into lust,,an addicting drug, that having is a must, the magical feeling, turned into dust, she misses the memories, kisses, and hugs, now she confides in her own sorrow, asking god for a better tomorrow, he gives her a light to follow, but her own pride is hard to swallow, A beautiful intelligent female, who felt love through the most intimate detail,
at school she was the most diligent female, filled in amazing aspects, and assets, but she continues to feel the absence, and still doesnt comprehend the circumstances,
for his actions, of dissatisfaction,
still to this day hasnt changed her reaction, the biggest heart break shes ever dealt with, it was minor to him, but her heart really felt it, like a beautiful ice sculpture, she melted,
and there I was the person to who she vented, staring deep into her dark brown eyes, i saw what nobody else saw, deep deep inside, she was wise at mind, i searched more within, as the sun rised, a beautiful lonely girl, that told me under the stars and moonlight,
"hold me close and never let go."
i was there to carefully listen,
she opened up like a book.
after she looked up to me and said i was different, that i just might be what her heart was missin,
her eyes and smile once again glistened, i told her,
"look at the stars, look how they shine for you, until the stars in the sky shine no more, i'll always be there, until the end of time for you."
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC
The weight of the world
is love.
Under the burden
of solitude,
under the burden
of dissatisfaction
the weight,
the weight we carry
is love.
Who can deny?
In dreams
it touches
the body,
in thought
constructs
a miracle,
in imagination
anguishes
till born
in human--
looks out of the heart
burning with purity--
for the burden of life
is love,
but we carry the weight
wearily,
and so must rest
in the arms of love
at last,
must rest in the arms
of love.
No rest
without love,
no sleep
without dreams
of love--
be mad or chill
obsessed with angels
or machines,
the final wish
is love
--cannot be bitter,
cannot deny,
cannot withhold
if denied:
the weight is too heavy
--must give
for no return
as thought
is given
in solitude
in all the excellence
of its excess.
The warm bodies
shine together
in the darkness,
the hand moves
to the center
of the flesh,
the skin trembles
in happiness
and the soul comes
joyful to the eye--
yes, yes,
that's what
I wanted,
I always wanted,
I always wanted,
to return
to the body
where I was born.
San Jose, 1954
6.5k
Onam Reminds
Onam reminds me of the venomous mind
That overthrew a just ,kind king ,unkind
Aryan imperialism subjugating the Dravid
The white over the black , dark apartheid
Justice of the black is unjust for the white
A matter of jealousy, dissatisfaction and fight.
For the British, Indians were raw to be refined
As Allopaths frown upon Ayurvedics as bad.
But, what is the truth? think of the covered past
Weigh evidences: from history, literature and art
Of all non-whites; really, they were and are super
In many respects, hence, awake from your stupor.
India shall not be a kite of any ruler outside
No race is Blessed to override anyone beside;
Almighty considers all equals - by their deeds
It is That, that fosters all by weighing our deeds.
When greed of man rudely jeopardizes the Nature
Nature jeopardizes human life, making a fracture.
Torrential rain or draught is a positive measure
Applied by It on earth (as earth-quake) to treasure.
Man like Vamana tries to grow and measure the earth
Other planets ,heaven or hell to exploit Nature’s wealth
As Jehovah ,the Almighty, Brahma, or Allah, the Cause
Of that Pulsation is everywhere, beware man! and pause!
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 3:55 AM UTC
Such dissatisfaction
For so little reason.
Much complaining & whining,
Crying & begging;
Pulling hair, tight fists
And gnashing teeth.
Consumer Zombies stagger
Into the Stop & Shop,
Shop & Go,
Buy More For Less-
Sale, Sale, Sale!
Salivating glands & bug eyes;
Our hands grab more than
Can possibly be seen.
Our skin stretches tight
As white elephants stampede.
Why can’t we all
Just Stop & think?
Take a drink of the cool morning
Air and buy in the sunrise?
© Lesley Wood
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 2:55 AM UTC
You give me your arm
and we take to the streets
A plethora of bombardments
stimulations and senses
dissatisfaction ringing in our ears
but only faintly––––
and the rush of the waves
bursting down their lanes
crashing into the cacophonies of beyond
but all oblivious
wonders of our bodies
demons of the mind
enticing and exciting all the feathers of the future
ruffled and untangled
purity in its core
smells and sights flashing
immaterial and immortal
from time immemorial
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 2:41 AM UTC
Humorless soul burning plunder
Of fraternity and success
By unnamed ,unseen blood and flesh
Escaping through unimaginable pits of hell
Not leaving a folklore,a story to tell.
A new decease spreading through mankind
From a single human body
Frightening name, shrieking mankind
Whenever this disease comes in contact with them.
Appropriately a plague
Running in tempt
Spreading to face
Something like vendetta ,something unsafe.
Entering into new age
Through the plague of dissatisfaction
Morose ,cruel,not leaving a fly unhurt
Being risen as group of beasts...
Dissatisfaction,a word which shouldn't exist
Flows now through the blood stream of every body
Leaving poison to spread
From toe to head
Keeping love in custody.
Why this plague of dissatisfaction?
Why an unturned page?
why this spread of cruelty?
Why not try but fail?
Unanswerable questions,i think these are for me...
I'll just sit and stare at the poem as the
Plague of dissatisfaction spreads till eternity.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 11:39 PM UTC
dysphoria can be defined as a general unease or dissatisfaction, a discontent
but dysphoria
feels more like a disconnect
my heartbeat feels more like a defect
when it throbs against my shrinking ribcage I can feel that it's making a dent
dysphoria
comes from a greek root meaning "hard to bear"
it is hard to bear
**** it's hard to breathe
literally
physically
I cannot breathe
I cannot be free
dysphoria is when you have to close your eyes while you shower so you can't see
each breath shakes as it comes out of me
there is medical material clung so tightly to my body
it has become an extension of me
and nothing on me belongs to me
I am trapped beneath waves of what I can't stand to be
my body of water
feels more like an anchor
I am drowning
and you can tug at my spine but you cannot feel me
I cannot even feel me
I would do anything to make these ends meet
dysphoria grabs hastily
a current does not care your worth, it just pulls you under
dysphoria does not care if you deserve better
dysphoria is a disconnect
and I haven't found directions
to the end
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 8:00 PM UTC
I find myself on uncertain ground,
Straddling an impossible horizon.
On one side is day, where my consciousness thrives
On the other is night, where fatigue claims its prize.
For years, it seems, I have longed for sleep,
For a reprieve from wakefulness, and the sun’s piercing light,
But now, as I stand astride this unlikely fission,
I fear what awaits within night’s unyielding prison.
The darkness has beckoned, calling me forth
Even now, its sweet siren reigns down on my soul,
Oh, how easy, to just close my eyes and let my thoughts be consumed,
The promise of nothingness nearly impossible to refuse.
But my silhouette on the ground reminds me of light,
And I owe it to myself, past and future alike
To reconsider day and all it provides,
Before I make a choice, here, where two opposites collide.
I can remember hope, and the anticipation of greatness,
But also despair and nights spent alone.
Laughter and desire, pitted against resentment,
An ever-tipping balance between dissatisfaction and contentment.
No, it’s just not enough for me to fully commit,
I’d much prefer blackness and its long-awaited calm,
Yes...I will forget about day and its promise of grief,
Instead, I’ll take night and its selfless offer of relief.
Just one step forward and I'll be forever engulfed in silence,
But first I’ll rest here for just one second longer-
I need to say goodbye to day and pay respects to light,
Then I'll go forth, and forget this place where day leads unto night.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
The human mind is a miracle,
I'd call it the pinnacle.
Where postivity runs free,
And negativity buzzes like a bee.
Where confidence is rare,
But insecurity appears bare.
Where dissatisfaction is common,
And unhappiness looks like an almond.
Where serenity is easily found,
And everyone is home bound.
Where your darkness thoughts collide,
And your happiest thoughts are tied.
Where your memories are bottled up,
And your bad luck is thrown away in a cup.
Where living seems easy on the surface,
But surviving somehow, became a race.
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 10:09 AM UTC
Extreme dissatisfaction; your real life was covered in utter distress.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 8:04 PM UTC
Boredom #2
I’ve never seen so many synonyms for one small noun,
Blocking maturation and enjoy-dom:
Boredom.
“Weariness, ennui: frustration;
Restlessness, dissatisfaction, unconcern: frustration;
Lethargy, lassitude, flatness and frustration;
Dreariness, repetitiveness, apathy: frustration;
Tedium, monotony, dullness. yes, frustration.”
Can it be overcome, this boredom?
No more war - the boredom won,
Exchanged for something more like fun?
It can.
A friend who, when we speak, says,
“It’s a part of nature…has no answer...”
Reasoning fallacious,
She is wrong as wrong can be
And her reasoning a fallacy.
Awake at night: hormones, full moons;
The glut of light: electric gadgets and devices,
Radios that play a song too strong, too long..
A trick I’ve learned that’s brought results;
A knack, a shortcut worth consulting
Is to train the brain to focus on/in/with the brain;
Travel round in, sense and feel…
Make it real – as if you really feel
The part you aim at, frame then tame.
In seconds you’ve an object that’s becomes a subject.
Boredom fled, you freed,
You and your mood well pleased, released
And taken places least expected,
Un-objected to by you,
The burden boredom’s through.
And doomed!
Boredom 11.24.2016/ #2 revised 2..16.2017
Revelations Big & Small; Definitely Didactic;
Arlene Corwin
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 6:30 AM UTC
strike my eyes lovely
for S. B.
by way of introduction,
when you have gone to confession,
freely admitting you have nothing left for others to harvest,
no seed to plant a new crop, and lies and laughter, interchangeable,
there is no poetry left, not even raisin scone crumbs,
one good friend informs that a forgotten five month old poem,
a computer has selected & resurrected, for distinction
so months later you snicker for you have been seriously
self-kicked away from writing, all your vocabularies,
trite and yellowed overused, and you read
really good poetry and are
slapped-seen-outed by the impoverishment of
your own no-winsome word-smithy,
no delusions, even this, but a-quick script, more a thank you note,
and it’s the only lasting quality is the
genuine nature of its intent
but the poem itself falls bottom of the cliff, short on quality,
a victim of your dissatisfaction
let me explain better
she messages you while the time difference works in her favor,
she reads while you sleep the sleep of the soul-exhausted,
she, scoffing at your claims of motivation deprivation,
as she cherishes this forgotten one,
with words that cannot be ignored
the poem**
strikes her eyes lovely
daggered, this morning phrase cannot go unchallenged
for this a compliment that any poet would
weep for, be inspired by, stung into action,
provoked, ego flattered and challenged to-do more-better,
what writer could want for anything more!
who can own this ability
accept this ultimatum of success, a cross-word crucification
to strike down lovely
the readers eyes, almost all once,
almost excuses me forever
for trying and failing so many times
you smile
but not in the chest where
lovely
needs to strike you
for if you cannot strike the readers eyes again and again, then...
let the moment gleam, and then disappear,
again and again, stored but not restorative
11/21/18
Miami
Nov 22, 2018
Nov 22, 2018 at 7:49 AM UTC
It was a beautiful moment
Of dissatisfaction.
One where she realized
Complacency
Does not equate
With serenity.
That stagnancy
Does not yield joy.
So she moved,
Not only her feet.
She moved mountains.
The earth quaked beneath her,
And flowers bloomed
In every crack.
And this,
She thought,
THIS is how it feels
To be alive
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 1:24 PM UTC
I have not been well lately
But I have a secret to tell you
It’s a success story: my most secret success
You see, I’m very skilled in crafting holes
And I’ve punched a massive hole
Right through the middle of my life
Please, don’t mistake this accomplishment for the result of talent
This is a skill and it takes practice to master
I went to college and learned to turn theories and ideals from basin to sieve
I learned to critique everything hopeful
And punched a hole right through the heart of hope
I honed my ability to close out creativity
I built a track down which to guide concrete linear thoughts
And I learned to use said thoughts as a battering ram with which to
Knock a hole in the barricaded door to dissatisfaction
And, though this skill is often practical
As you know, one cannot walk around wearing an open hole
So, a corresponding skill has successfully emerged
In parallel with nurturing voids
I have learned to conceal each and every hole
Sometimes with a thick canvass and
Sometimes with a paper-thin veneer
I may have learned to wrap a package
And to tie a bow
With the express purpose of packaging
The broken gift of life
Full of ugly holes
And, now, all that is left to complete the perfect ending to this success story
Is to grow old in a neatly kept apartment
Filled with the unseen haunts of relationships neatly hole-punched and
Filed in a hidden mental cabinet
Next to a night stand where I keep my phone and glasses
And across from the bed
There will be a glass trophy case
Full of trophies denoting various acceptable successes
But, just between you and I
The largest trophy denoting the largest success
Will be a lifetime achievement award
Bestowed for hollowing out what could have been
A beautiful life.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 4:07 PM UTC
Rotating bodies, confusion of sound
Negative imagery holding us down
Social delusion, clearly constructed
Human condition, morals corrupted
Trapped in reaction, lawlessness, war
Dissatisfaction from bowels to core
Devils technology, strategy for
Human mythologies, urban folklore
Sick of psychology, counterfeit cure
Wicked theology robbing the poor
Scheme demonology mislead the pure
Strict and strategically, studying war
Light shown in darkness, image exposed
Few can see through the new emperor's clothes
Lustful this hussle turns humans to hoes
When the blind lead the blind
Just more trouble and woes
It's the mind that they chose
It's designed to stay closed
Standards of jokers, court just a logic
Sick looking cosmics, from schoolyards to college
Primitive man with civilised knowledge
System collapse and he still won't acknowledge
God is the saviour, studies behaviour
Trying to fix the mind that he gave ya
Stiff-necked scholars on prescription meds
Wishing their problems were all in their heads
Moral dilemma, pride is the root
Misguided from youth, heart divided from truth
Egyptians and Grecians, spiritually dead
Imperially led, by the gods in their head
Motives and thoughts
Industrial wealth
Global economy, in for itself
Heart full of madness, covered with kind
Pleasure designed to take over your mind
Furnished in godliness, painted in good
This talented priesthood got real saints misunderstood
While classes in government, set up the veil
And cultivate minds for more mythical tales
Typical Hollywood follies good girl
While vice and corruption take over the world
Motives and thoughts
Check your motives and thoughts
Blind with the wickedness deep in your heart
Modern day wickedness is all you've been taught
Lied to your neighbours, so you get ahead
Modern day trickery is all you've been fed
Motives and thoughts
Check your motives and thoughts
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 7:52 AM UTC
Tall men think of robust ladies
Shorter ladies dream of length,
Toothless people fantasize
Of mandibles of white, bright strength.
Porcine women lust for thinness
Breast less girlies long for *****
Dissatisfaction fills the air
It's greener grass or down the tubes.
Black man hopes for pale complexion
White girls bake to raise a tan,
Brown eyed lassie's envy blue-ness,
***** lesbian's, a man.
The wealthy want the easy life
Beggars yearn for cash,
Dissatisfaction's in the air
And mirrors are so trash.
Across the human spectrum far
Mankind wants for more,
The grass is always greener
Looking through another door.
It's bigger, better, brighter, best
The quest is always there
Relentlessly pursued with glee,
Bright eyes and bushy hair.
Results are mixed and varied here
Some reach the holy grail
To watch it slip beyond their grasp
Then founder, fall and fail.
Some teeter on a platform,
Some grasp the prize and run,
Some hit their stride at bounding pace
To see the contest won.
But by and large there's misery
Few climb the road to joy,
Frustration be my brother
Dissatisfaction be my ploy.
Limitation is our lot in life.
Our secret to success
Is to love the mirror warts and all
All other **** ...repress !!
MERRY CHRISTMAS
Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
23 December 2009
www.worthyofpublishing.com
Dec 22, 2009
Dec 22, 2009 at 6:15 PM UTC
Salt+Pepper=Vinegar-Ketchup-Barbeque-Sour Cream+Onions
Mint+Lime=OneTequilaTwoTequilaThreeTequilaFloor
Bread+Mornings=Buttered Side+Lands Down
Potatoes+Oil=Burgers+Wings+Club Sandwiches
Milk+Chocolate=Nostalgia+Marshmallows
Freezer+Yoghurt-Regrets=Dissatisfaction
Coffee+Liqueur=Saturday Night=OJ+Champagne=Sunday Morning
Apr 5, 2012
Apr 5, 2012 at 12:30 AM UTC
we are all plagued by the same
haunting disease.
every step on this wearied road
is just a step in our prison.
esoteric dreams of unchanging bliss
are humanity's liturgy.
the only steadfast thing in
this oxymoronic world is
dissatisfaction.
we are foundering in it,
wishing to drown already.
the romantics looked
to love,
now we look
to apathy;
but this prison
has no escape,
except death.
so we fell in
love
with the grim,
when fantasy
failed us.
now we sit here,
entranced with the mud but
dreaming of beaches.
meaningless,
meaningless,
meaningless.
we are the living dead.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 3:20 AM UTC