"edginess" poems
I’m sad, big deal
You don’t even care?
then whats that i hear?
“your fault for taking what i said to heart”
‘there are better reasons to be unhappy”
“edgy. edgy. edgy. edgy. edgy.”
“Calm down. No need to be so edgy”
“woah that’s pretty edgy”
Sorry to inconvenience you friend
if you really are my friend
I never meant to hurt you with my edginess.
I apologize ever more
Your anger is not what I intend
In fact it’s not even anger as result
No, it’s more
The mocking never ends
You say you’re making me a better person
what you’re really doing is tying lose ends
You said i need a better reason to be sad
And now i have one
I don’t know what your were told
but calling me edgy doesn’t make me less of person
just makes you more of an *******
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 8:15 AM UTC
ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE
Where every scene from every play
Ever written flows seamlessly into
Each other in no particular order
ALL THE WORLD'S A ****** MYSTERY
Where everyone’s a probable suspect
Including the investigating officers
Playwrights and audience
Yet we’re all sure we know whodunit
ALL THE WORLD'S A COMEDY OR STAND-UP ACT
Where everyone’s a dressed-down clown
Even the straight man and the cast and crew
And everyone plagiarizes the punch-lines
ALL THE WORLD'S A PASSION PLAY
Where everyone’s a martyr
Even the judge and executioners
And the messiah must be
A flavour of the week superstar
ALL THE WORLD'S A SOAP OPERA OR CRIME DRAMA
Where the cast doesn’t realise
They aren't wearing any clothing
Even though they are seasoned
And respected award winning actors
And the show is being marketed as pornographic
ALL THE WORLD'S AN OFFICIAL DOCUMENTARY
Where everyone’s the subject
Director producer and crew
As long as the camera is rolling
And it’s rolling 24/7 !
ALL THE WORLD'S A REALITY SHOW
Where everyone’s a drama queen
Including the director producer and crew
And the camera is always rolling
Even when there’s no film in it
And the props and stage are constantly being
put-up and torn down all around them
ALL THE WORLD'S A COMEDY/DRAMA
Where nothing’s really that funny
And the edginess is trite and melodramatic
Like a cast of mimes in a Shakespearean play
ALL THE WORLD'S A GAME SHOW
Where everyone is the host
Including the audience
And there are no contestants
Only models on a flashy stage.
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 2:42 AM UTC
Passing is paranoia
Like oiled up blonde blue eyed women
On the slave for sale stage
Next to dark skinned slaves in the same chains
From the clamor in the audience
White women
Yelling
Proclaiming
Protesting
“Are we selling ourselves now?!”
Passing is paranoia
I don’t know who knows I’m not white
I do not like white people behind my back
Where I cannot see them
I keep my back against the wall
Passing is dangerous
Confidently passing
Will get you beaten and killed in a dark place
White uniformed militia will say you did something you didn’t
White women will force themselves on you and say you did
Passing is ****
Until her white parents find out
Then passing is loneliness
Passing is plotting
Them against you
Anticipation
Edginess
Tension
Passing is in limbo
An interval of genocide
A frantic meditation on what it is to be human
Passing is revolution
Passing is waiting for the perfect moment of revenge
Passing is vengeance
Passing is the blackest you will ever meet
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
The blue over her eyes caused a blinding glare.
"Don't look in." Her empty gaze warned.
Her smile. sinister and beautiful.
"Don't make me feel." Her tongue flicked.
She made sick jokes and carried herself like shattering glass.
You want to watch the way she moves,
but all you know of is her evil outlook.
You force yourself to look away.
Only outsiders will see in this moment
the edginess softens into plush.
The blue runs down her face into a stream.
The smile is shattered with each step..
When you muster up the courage to look again
the glass is tied together by loose string.
It's your decision to pull it and release the pieces
or look away and allow the evil to fester.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
“We’ve engineered the world for comfort and ease. Most people rarely step outside of their comfort zones these days—we’re living progressively soft, sterile, temperature-controlled, overfed, under-challenged, safety-netted lives1. And it’s slowly limiting the degree to which we experience our, as the poet Mary Oliver put it, “one wild and precious life.””
Michael Easter, Substack
<>><<>
five months have expired
from when this notion
1st caught my notice
but fallow lay,
unattended, unremarked
unforgiving
of my ignorance and inattention
but it freshly, rightly,
core challenges me
guilty of the underbelly softness
so well described,
I
choose to scribe,
wrestle with angel and devil,
two~on~one human,
and yet, still a
fair fight
"wild and precious!"
how rarely we employ these
adjectives,
that conjure the edginess of an
existence
lest you think,
that we are here to implore, urge,
skydiving, remote wilderness trekking, or other physical states
that set adrenaline on fire,
I am not
afterthat for them
oh, my
wild and precious
is far more treacherous and enthralling
what I beg you to embrace is
no farther than
nubs, knobs and stubbled nibs of your fingers,
the taste buds flowering invisible
on the wily, twisty tongue,
the tiny-vibrating little hairs of your nostril,
two extra large eggy pupils of your two eyes,
here lies danger,
your customized throbbing throbbing your drumming,
leadings
access to the garden of
The truly wild and precious,
the poems you will scribe,
from the safety of your captains chair,,
Throwing caution to the wind compose and depose yourself with bitter questioning,
For which the answered answers must be truly be
wild and precious
cyan sighs,
oaken cries,
furious colorless invasive tears,
steely stabbing personal truths,
yes those wild ones,
in your. chest close held,
spill them like cold coffee,
surrender the precious, and
inward confess your
shame, gains and the relit
that you are not merely
wild and precious
but a sea borne sailor,
a navy voyaging to
to where
danger enthralls
enlivens!
Jun 21, 2025
Jun 21, 2025 at 10:23 AM UTC
There in the looking glass
he stands
his back to me...
a sign says kick me
kick me when I'm down
then kick me some more.
I break the mirror
shattering the illusion all is well
my mind
in pieces
Pieces together the fragments
of my pain
the edginess of my torment
cuts me deep
as I bleed darkness
on an empty page exorcising...
My daemons.
This is in response to Umbra's poem Demons to show she's not alone we all face our own darkness.
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 8:38 PM UTC
Her heart was just pumping scar tissue
Thumping dry red dust
A reflection of last night’s affection
Pain pointing to another ********
Skin so thin but opaque
Raw nerves and edginess
Desire lacking eagerness
Child in a monster’s nest
Two packs of smokes a day
One bottled downed and another one saved
Could have been a beauty queen
But now she’s just a dried up pruney thing
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 10:26 AM UTC
I sit here in the dimming light
trying to imagine a time.
A time once spent with you,
never felt lost,
just lost in you.
Your words would take me to distant places.
Places I have always wanted to go.
A place where I could get lost in love,
but not just with anyone though.
You.
You are who I wanted my hands to be intertwined with.
To see the edginess of your knuckles and mine
in a straight line.
Together as one
I felt our pulse
And finally....
Finally, I was lost in love.
|ss|
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 4:34 AM UTC
It kicks you like the shrill of Dizzy G's trumpet blast when you expected violins:
Finding yourself rolling with the disjointed rhythm.
You savour the unexpected jolts
And know things are changing.
It's a whiskey sour before midday
Tasting oh so perfect
When you would have settled for a glass of red wine after dinner
Or a tonic water.
But that's OK too.
Its the glare of the sun after the darkness of the cinema.
Its the startling phone call at 3a.m.
That turns out to be the wrong number.
A relaxed edginess.
It's cracking open a seal of thought and imagination.
It's gasps of "What was that?"
and "I think she fancies me!"
Breaking the block
Sudden inspiration smashing through.
Pounding down doors
You've got to sink the hooks in deeply.
Expect anything.
You don't want too, but you wonder
Has it always been there
Or birthed anew just for you.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
<>
she raw whispered, edginess deep in her throat,
combo of delighted annoyance coated in
wary weariness of she-wanted-wonder,
what he wants that I can keep/take?
my untold secrets he knows how?
needy aches unsatisfied uncovering,
his knowings creates unfamiliar needs,
accentuates secretions of secrets discovering
did not ask for revelations without no resolution,
how dare he tense me in private places hid,
my properties aren’t his, my neck, eyes,
tonguing my senses is crazy senseless
this schema, this tracing of a figurine,
braising my body in his, its own sauces,
while perfume of mine unrequested are mined,
taken away in railway cars to his treasure houses
left utterly gagging and gasping
to hell with him, unbounded gone,
to heaven by him, I went bounding up,
giving me that everything I never desired
***but only knew him as the my-mysterious,
tales unwritten yet tensed in the familiar,
poems elucidating, all that I didn’t
write, knew, but never uttered***
*now, now! all are freely spoke aloud,
outed, foundering, highlighted and now
decomposing me, I’m honestly betrayed by
what he calls the sense, the knowing of the unknown*
Friday, March 6th, Twenty Twenty,
2:47am
Mar 7, 2020
Mar 7, 2020 at 9:28 AM UTC
The world is sleeping
under the covers of a silent night.
The stars are peeping
from the recesses of a languid sky,
musing about the unusual calm of an
else boisterous planet.
The night air ridden of its usual clamor, seems to sing a silent eulogy
to all those lost lives.
While,
we humans try to maintain
a facade of calm
masking our ruffled insides,
as we catch on to the air of edginess surrounding us.
Apart from the gentle rustle of the trees and the occasional bark of a dog,
even the cacophony of the birds and insects has died down,
as every living thing is hushed.
They lie in a drugged slumber.
Along with sun up, rises the anticipation of yet another day,
as we feverishly repeat
the actions of the previous day,
with an undercurrent of
self righteousness.
Comical!
This abides day after day.
Amen.
Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 1:57 AM UTC
I can’t seem to detach
The shelves hold books
I do not need
Soft and hardbacks
Stacked chaotically
I want to keep them
I want to give them
To someone who will
Appreciate them
But I do not know who
Will take them and treasure them
As I did and do
I want to detach
From my cache of comic books
But my memories are attached
To all that muscle and flash
The stories of my past
Are sculpted heroes
Of fantastic proportions
And grand moral fortitude
I do not want to lose
The person who was
So deeply intertwined
With those graphic stories
I want to detach
From the ****** way of thinking
So I rub one out
Yes it hardens and shrinks
So that each day
I am not driven
By lust and passion
So my perspective is not blurred,
Woman are more than mere
Objects of desire
Desire speaks more of
Seeking something special
A unique kind mind
But the yearning still surges
Spews milky madness
To calm my edginess
It is in my flesh
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 12:18 PM UTC
I feel so off, she said
I can feel the cortisol swimming all over my
body
mind
touching every cell with unpleasant
edginess
I need to release it
I really need to work out
I need to f*ck you
He looks up at her windy, soft face as they cuddle
he smiles and they lock eyes
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 11:25 PM UTC