"frivolousness" poems
the night consisted of me hinting at the presence of a guy
a guy i really like, a guy whose name
like a reverie, i could not bring myself to utter
i talked about everything because i do not care
i do not care about you, your enamoured face, your
saccharine words, instead i batted them away
as if they were unwanted flies harassing a dim light
of which they are enraptured by, devotedly yet
foolishly
by the end of the night i had grown tired of entertaining
the ghost of the guy whose name i could not utter
of glimmering gutlessly at my blatant apathy
of being a subject of novelty
you were the kid, strung on by a piece of nothing
and i was the power-bearer, merciless in
faithless speeches, indulgent in frivolousness
so i halted the meet, streamed mindlessly towards
a place where i renounced my false interest
my douchebaggery, then proceeded to wipe off
the kiss you'd left on my unwitting, unwelcoming lips
i do not like you, do not want traces of you to
envelope, overwhelm the traces of him on me
but i don't think they ever will
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 5:25 PM UTC
It was a Tuesday
I tripped in full stride
I blame the house which was fragrant with a stale caffeinated aroma
It seemed rational at the time going for a walk with bare feet on hot coals
I’ve done more
or less
For some perverse introspective frivolousness
I took the road less traveled
which looking back was more like a rutted, run-down underground expressway
I kicked at beer cans
Tripped on broken guitar strings
Blotted melancholy on crumpled cocktail napkins where now meaningless prose once had meaning
the ******* led my way
scattered carelessly
discarded thoughtlessly
left to clean up the mess
I walked past doors left open absentmindedly
deliberately pushing them closed
Passed windows broken where shards of glass still held a dim shine
Letting my bloodied fingertips trace a path along the wall as I loitered
A few times I sat
mulling over the graffiti left behind
everyone leaves their mark
picking at loose paint with my fingernail at what I once thought important
now not even a decent curiosity
just reminders of wannabe artists whose color faded when they explored the same terrain
I walked farther deeper
into the all too Familiar
down an almost unrecognizable hallway I never dared to venture
one I didn't even know existed
That’s when my fingertips ran into
red
velvet
wet
where my feet settled in fresh paint
Sinking into the red I felt a slow
steady drip from above splash on my lips
flushed with a burning need to suckle at the source
Drip
Drip
Drip
I smiled and thought
*Finally...
an artist with some ******* talent!*
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 5:52 PM UTC
God often would I rather have than gold;
I'd rather choose Jesus over the universe.
My heart do nay become perverse
That you may prosper in this world old.
But seek always first, my dear soul,
The Lord's way and his righteouness,
Letting go of all earthly frivolousness;
Then wilt thou find fulfilment whole.
For many there are with gobs of money
That possess, in simple term, riches great;
Yet who this vain life doth never sate
Their heart that is thirsty and hungry.
Oct 5, 2011
Oct 5, 2011 at 4:05 AM UTC
Faith is not understanding and Belief is not truth
Understanding is illusion
Life in a cloud,
Murky with our own notions and frivolousness
Intelligence an irrelevant gift within a chasm
Still, there is meaning in this Life in Limbo,
Death awaits regardless, new life, Limbo cast aside….
Faith converted to understanding, Belief molded into truth
Illusion impregnated by perception
Understanding Reigns True
Our gifts Shine with the patina of knowledge
Embodied in the freshness of childhood
Nothing is irrelevant, everything is of consequence
There are no trivial details in divine blueprints
Life on a Cloud
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 4:39 PM UTC
I watched as the dog waddles away with his feet wrapped in a soft leathery boot, the owner too focused on getting around the mounds of snow to notice the dog's discomfort.
A soft whistle escapes from the accordion sides of the streetcar while a groan escapes an elderly gentleman, pressed too close to the wall.
I stand embraced by crowded bodies, snug in the middle of the streetcar walkway.
These times of discomfort remind me that I am human.
Experiencing life.
Watching, listening, enjoying the discomfort of mortality.
cherishing the imperfections, the frivolousness of each individual.
A balladry of the mundane.
Feb 20, 2025
Feb 20, 2025 at 10:05 PM UTC
i am sick of myself.
my sweet and overly ripe words
i need not to even think of myself in any other way
i am already sick
the prolonging of my so called existence
the falseness which clings to me
i kick it and hide it sometimes
only to find myself
unsuccessful and worried
that it shows off.
frivolousness.
it leaks and sprouts through every cell
incomprehensible extinction
of my lost way.
a disgrace.
for being sick of myself only i can be
for no one else could even tackle the madness of the inside plot
of fluid wandering
of scattered taint of rotting business. unfinished.
uncertainty.
once again.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 5:54 AM UTC
As he so thinly and lightly floated up
He saw a ****** mess crowded around.
He understood and not bothering his weightlessness
Thought I must now find my way home.
Over the mesh of cables and wires
Above the teeming dots of men and machines
He skimmed the noiseless air beyond pain.
Now I know they spoke of what gain.
Once found he thought of landing on the roof
Melt through the attic door and be right beside her
But he didn’t want to give her a scare.
He would rather take the front door.
He held to the belief he needed no mirror.
It proved right as she was just mildly surprised.
He wished he could hold her hand and say
I’m back early for you today.
But there was so little time for the frivolousness
And supposing he wouldn’t be there the next instance
Started to speak.
I came back just to tell how much I love you.
She responded in a beaming radiant face
*This is madness
To have come back for what I always knew*
And then as he lifted her in a demonic strength
Giggled I love you too.
When she rose to silence the phone’s ring
She didn’t see him take wing
To go home in the wind’s flow!
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 4:10 AM UTC