"drearily" poems
Pyres of cityscapes burn contingently in the distance
ever drunk with blood of a mother, a nurturer who asks
nothing of the morose, self-consumed existence
she cares for. Her brow cocked,
wrinkles descend like
rain that tears down
a window.
Pain.
You're bleeding out! But she'll never put herself
forefront. How could she? Sitting, reflecting.
Tormented by incompetence, her soft
voice silently flutters the leaves.
Drearily an extension of her lips, the words
escape the cusps like a cautious prairie-dog.
Smog obscures
the senses, a haze
darkening the pupils of your celestial eyes.
I still see You
drooping in the rocker under a hard light. Retaining know-
ledge of past and present, through spectacles.
Her deflating **** secreting
concrete into the sucklings, cementing fate,
as the clock that hangs above her falters. I shutter to think of the
future that's afore. When the one who's raised me is not.
No more.
Your timber limbs look awfully thin. Restless and alone,
she's tired. "Abandoned"
we're all alone,
but your company means more to me than a sustainable
stone.
May 10, 2010
May 10, 2010 at 8:31 AM UTC
would be easy to bemoan blue Monday
but for me the downer is usually Sunday
for I am incapable of not peering ahead
drearily anticipating Monday’s dread
and knowing the day we name for the moon
will be here eye-blinkingly soon
perhaps since earth took seven days to create
Monday will arrive ignorantly intestate
left for all of us to build upon perfection
ripe for us to engage in insurrection
with the simple picking of fruit from a tree
and the loss of blind bliss for all of thee (and me)
so Sunday marks the end of a white beginning
and Monday is only the first black inning
of a game where we all run from base to base
but always return to the same selfish place
Sunday before blasphemous blue Monday
Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 12:10 PM UTC
Keen, fitful gusts are whisp'ring here and there
Among the bushes half leafless, and dry;
The stars look very cold about the sky,
And I have many miles on foot to fare.
Yet feel I little of the cool bleak air,
Or of the dead leaves rustling drearily,
Or of those silver lamps that burn on high,
Or of the distance from home's pleasant lair:
For I am brimfull of the friendliness
That in a little cottage I have found;
Of fair-hair'd Milton's eloquent distress,
And all his love for gentle Lycid drown'd;
Of lovely Laura in her light green dress,
And faithful Petrarch gloriously crown'd.
2.4k
In my years,
I have noticed,
writing about the birds and the trees
comes with great ease,
but an ordinary day with pale grey skies,
and flat stale air
is a subject as to which not many care.
A day when birds are too bored to fly;
people drearily roam outside.
When there are too many clouds for the sun to shine.
On such days, us wallflowers seem to thrive.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 3:55 PM UTC
Caught in-between a hard problem and a tragedy,
one which all thoughts conceive a calumny.
False religious declarations brought hope, a preconceived act, with all past failures examined and attacked, like a quasi-contract.
How can infinite knowledge and power create such hate, terror, and pain, similar to a suicide pact?
How does one find their own avenue? Without being stuck in the heart with a corkscrew?
Is personal discovery extinct? Do we forget the past, subconsciously ensure the failures of our future, and presently live with no imprint?
Is individuality impossible?
The characteristics are defined and distinct, but each soul's technique is quietly fluttering away from this lost mystique.
Discover the reality of you, rise up, revolt, and fight the deceitful greed and promised happiness brewed in realities poisonous stew, as it's faithful traits of trust, love, and care that create our optimistic views.
To be happy; an outdated phrase soon to be extinct.
When the downfall of morality can unfold in a blink, as we subconsciously conjure a future drearily bleak.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 11:45 AM UTC
-Audience!
Prepare for the magic act
*Hypnotically launching attacks
upon the helpless masses*
Won't pull a rabbit from a hat,
Rather false-flaggish gaffs
Practically exposed to radioactive madness
*(Feel the hurt disappear like doves
Gloriously soaring out your ***
Hijack these hijinks
Whilst laughing maniacally
Tornado alley to the trailer-park mentality
I call this a helluva brainstorm,
High-velocity lethality
Compose yourselves
Are your brain-stems intact?
-Okay. Now
*f
o
l
l
o
w
the swing
of
my pendulous
p e n m a n s h i p
Drearily drift into dreamy trance,
While I attempt
to initialize a feat
of mass hypnotization
Enchantingly dip
into deep illusory corridors
of thoughts limitless*
(Pay no attention
to any slippage,
Mental or otherwise
It's already dripping out your ears
& the seat of your pants)
Real ****
no gimmicks!
Abracadabra
Propaganda
Extravaganza
Gaze into my crystal ball
Mouths agape in awe
While I slay and lay waste
indiscriminate to the faceless plague
Come one, come all!
Phantom sorcerer I am, conjuring
unfathomable horrors
To the collective mind
procured through sleight-of-hand
Voila!
Still with us?
Alright, hold your breath
until you finally wake up
And illuminate the bogus
Hocus pocus front
♠ ♥ ♣ ♦
Shuffle the deck,
Reset Earth's debts
In a fabulous show
of m i s d i r e c t i o n
♠ ♥ ♣ ♦
Now, Ladies & Gents!
For my final performance
With this rope,
Suspended from the throat
I am going to bulls-eye myself
In the frontal lobe
Dead-center
In front of all you people
With this
.40 caliber desert eagle!
Graciously donated by our very own NWO
(applause)
This one's sure to be mind-blowing folks.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 5:41 AM UTC
i must be some sort of permanently exhausted pigeon;
claws clinging to the telephone wire
drearily blinking my way through
the morning meeting of the aerial acrobatic society.
i am a seagull swarmed
amongst the chirpy conjecture
of these early birds;
and my soul caws an honesty,
a wail, a howl, the truth.
i am a tainted swan
grittily paddling myself through the marsh
we call this world,
a lone observer of the acrobats,
the stickiness of my feet keeping me
flightless.
and you are a swallow;
redbull wings migrate you to warmer climates.
you hear the seagulls
but listen to the pigeons.
you notice the swan
but her murky shallows are too icy
for your liking.
and you are a chicken;
blind beyond your own free-range vicinity.
you catch the pigeons as jet planes,
and the seagull's whisper is alien.
you don't know miss swan.
Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 8:02 AM UTC
Miracles lay behind decimals
In this domain of imminent decay
They tread drearily
Coming and going
But hardly making a difference at all
Dwindling happenstances
Going unperceived by untrained eyes
Ephemeral, glowing thoughts
That transcend into dull, mere materiality
But they don't really matter at all.
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 9:59 PM UTC
Dear Drearily Burdened Soul,
I want you to know
That every time you cry,
Each tear has the power
To pierce
Through every fiber of my being.
And I know it's hard.
I know it takes every ounce of you
to muster up that smile.
But every time you do,
Let me tell you
Those broken fibers
Mend
Like friendship bracelets
Intertwined.
And I am whole again.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 11:34 AM UTC
Into the car drearily I go
There's no avoiding it, this I know
Headphones are in; world is out
As the music comes on, I try not to pout
I stare out the window full of despair
Every Sunday morning, it's the same affair
As I watch the rolling hills, trees, and skies
The image of a lone raven reaches my eyes
He's sitting atop a branch, seemingly divine
His piercing dark eyes are looking to mine
I smile widely, knowing why he appears
He leaps from the tree, his flight easing my fears
He soars through the air, the master of the wind
In our hearts I know we are kin
As he disappears, I see the grass flutter
In the flowing air, the trees too shudder
I know the winds and know their names
I hear their voices making their claims
When I see the sun, in his bright glory
I met a smiling face who recites me a story
A story on the wind, of fires and dancing
A story of forests and May Day romancing
A story of ancestors and honor and pride
A story of candles and spirits that guide
The story is my comfort as we continue to drive
I find myself feeling suddenly alive
But soon my time in the car has come to an end
I say goodbye to my natural friends
Away from my weekly prison, I wish I could fly
Fly past the cross and over the sky
But I’m no raven that soars through the clouds
I am a child stuck on the ground.
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 12:24 PM UTC
Awkwardly awkward
Awkwardly me
Walking at 4am
Through the treacherous streets
Equipped with mase
In hand and at ease
Awkwardly awkward
Awkwardly me
Lack of sleep
Lack of time
Nothing but madness
Madness of all kinds
Drearily drifting
Lonely, its true
Love that is lost
Dreaming of you
A mind of mine own
Don't worry I'm fine
Gone mad but still sane
A madness sublime
Not another to fathom
So blissfully sweet
Awkwardly awkward
Awkwardly me
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 12:02 PM UTC
You had slowly sunk your knife up to its hilt into his chest, piercing it into half. You saw his life slowly evaporate from his eyes. But you still heard his heart's pump which had grew old, crumpled and soon would be silent. You had felt his life trembling through the knife in your hand. It had almost overcame you for time being, the gentleness of being at the center of act of guilty. Guilty of being humane less. Then again it started flowing in your veins, but this time in much vigor, fearful and drearily. This largely ephemeral fear went away when you started plumping the knife several time with out being aware of him. It was like cutting butter with no resistance at all. While doing so you had went to floor with him to finish him. His eyes was remain wide open, you got the impression that he was imploring you not to harm him but to do right thing.
You heard a hazy voice, "Thank you."
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
I stood by the unvintageable sea
Till the wet waves drenched face and hair with spray;
The long red fires of the dying day
Burned in the west; the wind piped drearily;
And to the land the clamorous gulls did flee:
‘Alas!’ I cried, ‘my life is full of pain,
And who can garner fruit or golden grain
From these waste fields which travail ceaselessly!’
My nets gaped wide with many a break and flaw,
Nathless I threw them as my final cast
Into the sea, and waited for the end.
When lo! a sudden glory! and I saw
From the black waters of my tortured past
The argent splendour of white limbs ascend!
1.4k
I'm waiting, for someone to care, for people to change, realize what they're doing and why. I want to stop thinking that I am alonee, want to know there's someone else that thinks like I do you and sees how the rest of these people are so shadowed and blind. I want to see the good times again, and I want to remember these moments, knowing there are more to come. But my hope is falling through my fingers, as each day passes drearily in the same **** way. Without Change. And I wonder why people think their way of life is Okayy. I want to fill the lonely emptiness and longing I have, but they continue to make me more and even more empty, leaving me a shell of the wonderous possibly I know I can be. Just held back by their thoughts of their reality. They can try to listen to me, like anyone should, but I know they just don't understand, and I just wish I could change that, and let them see what I see, how ugly they really are. Allow them to know what their actions really spell.
I want to escape to a place with passion, not passiveness. A place with spirit and soul and color and good vibes, full of true originality and heart. With NO INTENTIONS. Just truth. Just simplicity. Just happiness and laughter and love. No consequences. No melodramaticacy. A place where there are no fake smiles, only unstoppable dimples. Made by REAL and TRUE moments, moments so rare to me now I can hardly remember the last. I just want the truth, not lies. And I want everything the world can offer. Is that too much to ask? I want risk. Where did that go? I want to be and feel like an entire human being living for true happiness and potential, fulfilling dreams, no matter the circumstances.
But these kids, these future conquerors of the world, they continue to allow themselves to be completely controlled by the social norms of our ******* society. I refuse. But it has no mercy, society is a killer, high school it's ally. It controls, infects, then kills the soul. A sad death all too willingly accepted. It hazes the youths real priorities, and takes over the immune system, rejecting difference.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 9:03 AM UTC
They loom in the dark with bated breadths
Burdened souls and weighted steps
As the innocence in the world slumbers away
That's when they rise, come out to play
It is supposedly a kingdom of dark
Waiting to be pierced, waiting for a spark
Shedding light like jealousy sheds love
To lurk drearily in their raw alcove
They don their darkness, adorn it with their scars
Like the many universes dotted with burning stars
And so they fight the demons of life
In slumber and wake, their war for light
They carry their shackles within themselves
Forgotten like those books on dusty shelves
Ruling and ruled upon, a twisted fight
Waiting to ambush. These Creatures of the Night
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 2:02 PM UTC
A patch of green
Meets the burning red
Of my skin,
It's morning dew
Slipping through my arm-
Into the Abysmal
Inner-workings
Of a soul hidden from view.
Blue skies with clouds of white
Hanging drearily above my eyes;
Gazing hazily at the ocean
That is our gentle sky.
Perhaps we are like fish-
Only we swim with more esteem.
Our sentience something profound;
Lonely we sit in wait of dreams.
They, however, pass us by,
Shifting through the cycles of life.
From the deepest darkness
Until the morning light,
Their thoughtless will fuels
Their primitive might.
So burn out your wick
As you thrash about the sea-
Exhausted and melting.
Whatever fire you extinguish
Will let the cool water sink slow.
Then the sun will surely rise
As it always has:
Above us all, through mighty fire.
Permit the stars into your life-
They will save you from false desire.
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 3:55 PM UTC
Desire expressed
manifests in moments
Genesis to geneticist
alpha to omega, Eden Armageddon
and a particular flat stone
I'm flinging at that pile of H2O
It skips, predictably, causing surface ripples
under a line of predefined arcs
each described by gravity and water molecules
neatly arranged in surface tension that
reflects this day ... blue as the clear sky
and a peaceful wavelength
we know as
harmony
I'm wondering who desired such perfection...
Enabled energy, proclaimed pebbles
Caused a lake to feel at home right here
Read Darwin some respond
you're only here because
a primal pond appeared
somehow someway backwhen
and that famous fertile germ
opted for a brave new world
with homo-sapiens
conveniently mapped to its single cell
Dadadadaaa! Dumdeedee dumb!
Dvorak wonders too
Backwards, on slow-motion rewind
lofty intellects scratch and munch in flaky wonderland
ever plotting the self-indulgent, Lemming way 'ahead'
Independence day drags drearily on
Take fifty! ... A more human-friendly God
created in our image ... lest we forget the beast
I, me, first-person-one, Oh you're lookin' good!
Lets put that that triple 6 trinity to work
Replete, till death us do part, we do things My Way
ala Frank (and certain gorillas with cigars)
Thus is the compliment returned
Man attains an ever lower High place
Pass my slice of cake please
Myopic, entropic moments
loop their mobius strips
ever further down the food chain
Highways congeal and earth chokes
desperation
Small wonder Wisdom opposes pride
Shows His face to humble folk
Invites shepherds to witness
Jupiter in Virgo's womb
Rouses them with a shofar blast
come Kingdom come.
Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 2:13 AM UTC
Lonely each sunset, another night arises forlorn
Darkness spreads across thy valley of emotions drearily desolate
Lofty mountains of sorrow and pain soar in solemn scorn
Thy heart, still as death stern as fate in resolve will not remit
Lonely each sunset, warmth fades, hope flickers, near extinguish
A vicious cycle; dark emotions drink well the dark of emotional night
Of cold liquid fire, bitter sweet ambrosia, cold fuel to warmth’s wish
Emotions an’ desire forged anew, reborn with hunger burning bright
Lonely each sunset, deep within new hope and hunger burn as one
With gibbous moon piercing that black velvet of thy shadowed heart
Hunger drives, passion craves, freedom sings, pain that binds undone
Fell thy arch spirit, new and old emotions run wild quite a start
Down freedom’s road, long journey before thee, pass from outcast land
Still within old wounds not healed still express
Emotional apparitions, arising when thy dream state is at hand
When slumber rules, no escape for thy heart’s abysmal loneliness
Under crimson moon new passion and hope to bloom in full
If tended well, a hybrid, of passions thrall, not that sorely sought
Salve or bandages, but full rebirth, a tender pull
Ethereal strings; stitches sealed; catching and caught
~Wes Noneya
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 8:30 PM UTC
I walk through the village
The sun shines, the wind blows
a little through my hair
The shutters are closed
with chinks thin as needles
with long narrow eyes
My shadow doesn't fall inside
anywhere, there are none
in the dim rooms
where the light drearily
obscures what is going on
and what the consequences are
of everyone's comings and goings
The peeping people press me
as compelling devils
out of their eyes
out of the chinks in their lives
The sun upon me is insufferable
Dec 13, 2021
Dec 13, 2021 at 3:35 AM UTC
Kicking and screaming children
With their troubles and complaints
Force words from minds of dreary states
Realizations some won't meet the date
A bitter taste enters the air
Cloudy grey **** tangerine
Brightening to the tune of the loon
A broken down *** with a gun
But faster then we are here we are gone
A fatalistic but hopeful parody
Cracking glass jars in the twilight moon
As my sister brunette watches the toons
Littering through the concrete sidewalks
As the grandma's sagging sit down to talk
These registers are filled with monopoly money
And I just watched a movie of ******* Bunnies
An eccentric with one hundred ways to love a woman
A man that gave the game plan
To a high hearted man glittering sands
Ziggy the man with the amazing hands
For we are on a high and mighty moving picture trip now
Caught in the lit lie of the illusion
Asking the nurse for another freebie transfusion
And a peek from the geek under her sheet
A silly break in the world is the only thing a mad man CAN do
Because sometimes the only sky I see is slightly hued blue
And the men that elude to hatters that are mad
Playing with words in rhyme just make me sad
Brought up as a back door man by my own accord
I caused mischief and terror like every other outlaw
A foreigner in a seemingly "comfortable" land
Nowadays everything seems to have a ****** plan
Where tomorrow is that day and the next will be that
And the guy who you get take out from is wearing the same hat
But the hate you feel deep and preach onto the electronic page
May drearily, hopefully, perhaps distastefully give you a wage
Oh where does the madness stop if it only ends with money!
For these worries are from a sagging face watching bunnies
And eluding to grandeur nearing signs of a menstral manager
And a cosmopolitan back break with the blackening beauty of a snake
Lo,
Here I wait,
For sweet mornings embrace
Mar 2, 2011
Mar 2, 2011 at 8:57 PM UTC
Wrap the shawl of twilight
Around your shoulders tonight
Come out and play
Hide and seek
In the cemetery
Stand still as a stone
Don't you even breathe
Lest your pressence now
Will give your self away
Dash from tree to tree
Then stone to stone
And all along the way
You're humming nonsense songs
No complaints or so now they say
See the orange and weary moon
Raise his orbic head
Saying something , not quite sure
He's muttering to the dead
There is no sound , none what be
Except your beating heart
Evening's mist drearily insists
Not a soul here shall depart
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 8:20 AM UTC
young, so full of youth,
filled to the brim with
*** and desire and the
quest for flesh,
we are living the lives they
write about
we the young, so full of
uncontained emotion, so
happy to be alive and yet
not even realizing it, we
talk of suicide but never
believe it exists
we are perfect in our
decided ignorance of
our imperfections
(it gives us strength like
nobody knows)
-
spreading across the globe,
to China, Europe, and the
Southern Lands, our disease
is no plague
to the youth of the enslaved
places, to the poor countries,
and those shackled in the old
traditions:
we give to you our itch,
our burn, our aching and
hurting that drives us to
go out and do what needs
to be done
we give to you a reason
to make things better
(just as we give ourselves)
we are the reason
the earth still spins
we are the drive
behind every new
empire
we are the innovators
and the diviners
the makers of tools
and seekers of
riches
the creators of gods
and the gods
themselves
we, so young, so full
of energy and zeal and
lust, we the ones who
create and destroy, we
who so thoughtlessly
hurtle the human race
forward
we take ourselves to bed
each night, not wondering
with whom we sleep or
where we will awake;
knowing only that adventure
is worth having in itself.
that the morning is our treasure
and the new day is more fulfilling
than any golden trinket in the
tombs of the old kings
this we sleep with, smiling,
dreaming of the wild chances
we are challenged to tame
-
so young, so full of youth,
filled to the brim with ***
and desire and the thirst for
a definition in this grey and
blotted world
we awake each day
and drearily attack our
lives
we the pioneers, the philosophers,
and historians
humanity cannot live without us
(and I mean to say they have no
choice)
Jun 24, 2011
Jun 24, 2011 at 9:48 AM UTC
Music are your words,
Making your lips an orchestra; a symphony.
But your touch, my ears blurred
As your words would live in infamy.
Love is no accident -
Falling in is not without intent.
If you let your feelings drive your decisions,
Vain is the work we spent.
Why do we confuse ever so easily
The line between love and romance?
The latter ends so drearily
When outside of love it makes its stance.
No, my dear, we don't fall in love,
And sit in hopes of what it can bring.
We jump in, we dive into;
Because, together, we learn to swim.
No, my darling, we don't fall out of love
Because some feeling that was there no longer forms.
We work together to fend off the sharks
That threaten to tear us apart,
While we keep each other warm through the storms.
Don't lose sight of your heart,
Because it can be so easily deceived.
My dear, contrary to popular belief,
Love is not found, it is achieved.
Jun 5, 2011
Jun 5, 2011 at 3:17 AM UTC
a whirl of exploding stars
fears her dissolution into vapidity:
all her planets will drop off,
drearily
deciding
infinite nothingness over boredom.
dense lenses, telescopic eyes
pass over Cimmerian smears of sky.
distance misses her outreaching gravity:
dismissively
desultory,
unaware that darkness is not empty.
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 6:17 PM UTC