"haplessly" poems
Pedestrian haplessly waiting
For a sign, symbol, anything...
Signs that usher him forth.
Only lead him from north.
Modern hieroglyphs that say,
Halt here... Go that way.
Passing views that beckon
Can't stop but keep direction
Caution...peril impending.
Beware...danger looming .
Watch a storm is brewing.
Stem from aeons' brooding.
Pedestrian...not yet now...
Crawling time you must allow.
Pedestrian...maintain pace.
Don't falter...maintain grace.
Give not to desires' taunts.
Crumble not to guilt that haunts.
Keep moving, stay the course.
Keep at bay, tearful remorse.
Herd along...await instructions.
Restrain all quiet tensions.
Cage within, your sorrowful gait.
Tempted not by beauty's bait.
Pedestrian helplessly waiting.
Between signs, you are searching.
Free will here won't be met.
Your final destination has been set.
Has been set...
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 8:23 AM UTC
High ground
I concede to you
in the disproportion of a time allotted to you
for the choice of robe to grace
a glorified cameo around your flesh
like a sheet designated for an overthrowing
in an honorary statue's unveiling
Liturgy is looming in the bathroom
already hot-boxed in the metal waterfall's
mist of moisture and the mountain range of bubbles
I have settled comfortably into in wait
High ground
awaits your hallowed prance
into the concealed languish of your man's
dangling imagination
I salute you with incentive
through a lowering of eyes made necessary
by your towering above my horizontal soak
I'm beseeching you to wield royal sway
over the humility of my reclined posture
with the hidden scepter of your body
fated to dictate the pace of my
anticipated knighting
The gentle thud of fabric on linoleum
incites a turning of my head to take in
the litany of parts available to my
frenetic feels and jumbled focus
Stationary in your naked smile of proximity
you extend to me excessive time to entertain options
as I coat myself in lukewarm opportunities
and rise to meet you for a bathing in my excess wetness
I accelerate my exit to negate the bubbled tribuataries
sliding to the floor to meet the remnants of your mystery
The wall is cold and you protrude
haplessly to meet the rapid chilling of my undried frame
Warmth is of the essence
Fingers split your hair in celebration
of our uniform heights and I feel you slouch
signalling our first hint of friction
and a twitch in my diviner of your cradle of essential warmth
Do you realize you now rescind creative license?
Or have you filled the snare of your intentions?
Now your balance shivers in the mercy
of my curled leg of leverage
and an coiled arm collecting your ambrosial attributes
like an ice cream scoop
Uniform heights allowing eye contact
makes optional the visual acknowledgment
of my elastic hunting in the smooth field of your breast
with a dancing thumb
I connect and latch onto what is now
our binding axis and shuffle eye contact
with the universal rhythm of a pelvic power ballad
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
It felt like floating on the river with a wrinkly skin,
Akin to the corpse burying its sins deep within,
Life was like a gazebo in a dilapidated garden,
There will be reconstruction, if she let go off the burden.
It felt like being struck right deep into the soul
Suffocated and heated with a burning coal
Life has been like living in hell
Thinking she was already in heaven but she fell.
It felt tattered and drained out, limping every step towards life,
Appearing red stains and wounds by a knife,
Collecting the pieces haplessly, relieving the pain,
She wanted to feel the sunshine and kiss the rain.
It felt like drowing in a vast ocean of depression
Heart suffering from lingering oppression
But her smile never fades away
Getting stronger day by day.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
Written not to thine appraisal accord;
Words that aim to torch the infernal loom,
Seeking the world of sorcery and sword
Unconfined to thine astringent courtroom.
Methinks thy hackles must surely be raised
For hours laboured, tempering such sleight...
Yet adamant this pen, wielder unfazed
Mirrors many thou haplessly indict.
Scholars of insight construed only thee-
So feebly traced was this artistic lie;
A labyrinth from which my muse soars free.
Minoan mentor, dare not I deny:
It may be an Icarian Ascension,
But stands it staunchly, lacking pretension.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 6:32 AM UTC
I daren't call myself a poet,
and I daren't call the words
I haplessly string together
poetry.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:29 PM UTC
Promises of respite
from sallowed ashes,
adorned with feathers
from a thousand culled doves.
Haplessly wishing that freedom
comes soon.
A hope ensnared
in the clench
of crimson-stained gloves.
Jan 4, 2024
Jan 4, 2024 at 12:16 PM UTC
I write tidy little poems
uncomplicated rhymes
to paint for you a picture
contained within its lines
I have no time for flowery words
or eloquent pretense
I write poems people talk about
over the garden fence
I don't try to be too clever
or try to be too flash
Because making out your better
just leads you to a clash
Like "who the hell does he think he is
speaking down like that to me
Some others may like what he says
but his words are not for me"
And thats not what I'm all about
I write to share a thought,
a feeling, an emotion,
hell I even write 'bout sport.
I write so people know
that in their thoughts they're not alone
to arrest those night time monsters
that in our minds have grown
A trouble shared is a trouble halved
or so they used to say
but in our disconnected lives
we don't communicate that way
So instead of just sitting there
haplessly afloat
Do yourself a favour
and read the stuff I wrote
Some of it is happy
and some of it is sad
and some of it may just be like
experiences you've had
And once you find that piece
read it, take it home
and sleep a little better now
knowing you are not alone.
May 7, 2010
May 7, 2010 at 8:05 AM UTC
A lover pulled night toward me
Obscuring blind monotony
Those too-harsh rays,
The day-to-day malaise of living
As her silver, moon-lake body haplessly suppressed
My initial force of life
The seeds I kept hidden from view
Were strewn among her faulty self, where
They began to crop up thickly
Splitting rocks
In her center’s harsh asymmetry
They marred that once delightful face
If inconsequentially
But as her orbit wanes ahead,
Like a crashing moon with star tattoos
Her beauty will veer and fall away,
Then
I’ll be moist and will not wither in the heat always
Instead I’ll shiver and I’ll wonder
Why the sun is gone today
Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 11:14 AM UTC
As the nights languish with a fond kiss from lover's lip; Spry words spring from the dwindling flame as to revive its languor. In vain they stumble; Quick to the sword.
Love is, alas, a simple trinket to be bought and sold as they chose. Let it **** the next folk who haplessly come across it's starry eyed embodiment. Oh how black and binding it becomes; blinding the eyes to the truth. Which foolishly enough we over take.
For any chance at the happiness we seek is a happiness we take; Little in the hearts of man do you find contentment in solitude. Such a desire that burns in the heart; Little do we know of the derangement that befalls us.
Damnable in all it's wiles; once as sweet as honey then in a blink of the soul a black churning cyclone. It is the destruction we seek; But yet we do not destruct alone. This is what love brings us.
Countless night up; With wondering minds and curious hearts. It brings spring on a whim to tempt the summer to come back to us. It brings heart ache like a dusk; As the sun sets and we have fear that tomorrow never will come.
When all you get is heart ache; Is this what you crave. Endless nights in the dark after the wolves devour all your happiness.
Crave this lust of love; For all your want, you'll never have. Bestow upon yourself this damnable title and live as you shall. For we are men, and this is our curse; This damnable want of love to escape the lonely pit of ourselves. If only for the night.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 12:59 AM UTC
It waves hard, like
An ordeal of times past;
Irresistible, it wears down
Wilfully mortal endurance;
It worries, like summer sky,
Setting the soul breathless;
In woeful tone the moth
Haplessly weeps to stars far above;
Longing, infinite and vain,
Furnishes the mood inside;
Outside, nighingale still
Sings through the vacant autumn sky.
-by
Hakim H. Kassim.
Nov 9, 2023
Nov 9, 2023 at 10:44 AM UTC
My mother named me
for no good reason.
There was no fireman hero,
no reknown global leader,
nor an astronaut Stephen
setting his foot on the moon.
It wasn't even her stylist whom she honored
as he kept her trusted secrets.
The roulette wheel of monikers
whirred uninterestedly past
Michael
David
John
Robert
Mark
Mitchell
Glen
(and thankfully) Carl
and surrendered its last click
on the formal of Steve
with a "ph".
It was haplessly indifferent
in the way it came be.
A last grasp of titles
as they pushed her out
the hospital doors.
I have a friend whose name
was never in question.
He was a fifth,
as in William V.
The Ist was proud,
so proud that he named the IInd.
The IInd an heir,
so he named the IIIrd.
The IIIrd obliged,
and so the IVth.
The IVth weary from fighting
the previous I's
and hence, the V...
as in William V,
as in flavorless,
pomposity faded,
worn like a hand-me-down
dress shirt through five generations
bereft of shape and dignity and fit.
He wished he had his own name -
I did.
And I found my name
free to be
designed to the only son
my mom ever had -
to be as grand or plain
as I constructed it to be.
This one-size-fits-me tag
Stephen Dane Roberson
is the Ist
and only.
A name that I love
because it is filled
with all the stuff I put in it;
and that stuff is me...
a me I wanted to be when I grew up :-)
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
Oh, happiness, you know, is such a mystery to me
For my sweet mind, so nubile, now tempted and teased
In daisy chains constrained, becomes unflaggingly naïve
Amidst hopeless, hungry caricatures of a fresh, degenerate breed---
It is these sad amalgamations of cynicism and greed
That beg so caustically for my poor pauper’s decree
Wholly, humbly, in morally hazardous beseech
Reminding me that I will never be exempt from this disease
Because a bird that has for all its life been caged
Would know not, in freedom’s grasp, just how it should behave
And I imagine, most ignorantly, would haplessly spend its days
Flying in circles above the cold cell in which it was once contained
For it is the fear within that forbids us from ever wandering astray
Not, as we convince ourselves, those despicably tangible restraints
But the prejudices and prospects upon which we were raised
The unforgiving pathways of a pre-determined fate
Well, I’d rather die simply, dreaming wistfully instead
Because even the corporeal hand of freedom is ghostly akin to lead
The poison in my veins that leaves me ****** and unfed
It can scarcely compare to the beauty I’ve concocted in my head
And ‘fate,’ I admit, is something that I’ve come to quite dread
To think my end is not my own makes me wish that I was dead
To be voiceless and choiceless and paralyzed in my bed
A story that was written and never to be read
My existence will never course on a single, narrow line
And there will be many, many beds in which my loyalties lie
The destination may well be as crooked as the path the arrow flies
And for all of this uncertainty, I most assuredly will be fine
Because mark my words; let doubt not linger in mind
These cages and these pages will be now and forever mine
Just an arbitrary reaction to the hand-me-down destiny I’ve defied
The parameters I have made to covet all the corners of my life
Oct 28, 2011
Oct 28, 2011 at 7:46 PM UTC
Somewhere the wiring is crossed
Neurons fire haplessly
Patterns emerge in the chaos
The strongest survive
Again I search for sleep but
The thoughts descend on me like a pack of wolves
**** yourself
Put your hand in the fire and don't pull it out
Concentrate on the pain and you will feel it blossom
It would be so easy
To slip into the endless chain of reincarnation
It seems simple almost childish
To exit this shell
No longer fighting against the current of the river
I gaze at my own face in the mirror
Blind rage and a tear falls from my eye
The monsters gaze back at me
I am a ***** for your acceptance
As if any strangers positive opinion would validate my life
Tonight one last dream
Of your hands white in the moonlight
Soft upon my face
The caress of your voice will keep me from blood
The smell of rain soaked pine needles
I would live here forever with you
No longer sickened by the constant spin of the universe
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 3:11 AM UTC
I have lost my son,
the child I loved so dearly.
Is this what life is about?
-Yamanoue no Okura, Lost Child
After knowing your eternal rest
my soul cries in its inner depth;
trying to trace a soft spot
for some wistful nostalgia
amidst your unbearable sadness
to which I can tell in all ways
hides between your lips
& scavenged in thoughts.
After knowing your untimely passing
it will never be the same again.
After all, when was the last time
you felt something different?
Those times solitary clouds
tried waiving your cracked loneliness;
you died, haplessly, alone & tragic
in the most uncompromising time.
What made you think to hang the world
into a subliminal rope? Was it delusion?
There are two things:
One, the intense heartbreak
between you and the world.
Second, the romantic union
with the abyss.
But what goes in between?
In between, there is you. Solely you.
The only thing, other people can’t see
is that how you lived in dullness.
Your life saw its day
& now your night comes to an end.
Lay to rest. Die not.
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 10:35 PM UTC
I sought her words, but in vain.
Me seek'est her haplessly.
I hath been mute all these years.
No sign of love, yet it did languish,
Assail'd at a time to capture mine
As the soul who wail'd a thousand tears.
My words she ne'er tried heark'ning.
Resonance made still and lame.
Tatter'd notions, worded be
Abhorring yearnings of friendship's bond.
The last letter, 'tis where it'll end;
Years of joy, though for her means nothing.
'Tis now the soul's been cheated -
Loving her who loves not me.
'Though silence dost cleanse the tears,
Time will never ease anxiety
Expounded by a heart forsaken'd
Of its innermost rimes and meaning.
Jul 9, 2010
Jul 9, 2010 at 5:14 AM UTC
Surely,
There must be inumerous inadvertant staring contests happening
When haplessly gazing across the edge of the world
When, too tired to remember that the ocean has many shores,
One looks out seeking lighthouses
Made of curls braided into the backs of their head
As to not run aground,
Drown;
In the bottled reminders we endlessly toss at our own backs;
Why did you think the water gleams, undulates and winks
With so much meaning?
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
O' Youthful heart, why dost thou drift haplessly across the sky?
Can ye not be like the merry vessels and set your anchors in fair seas?
O' youthful heart, why dost thou bring pain to the lives of many?
If I gaze upon the lives of many, what do I see?
Pain, suffering,
slow and bitter,
weeping torment,
thousands of young peoples
hastily given hearts,
lay in ruin,
and all because the heart,
acted as a cloud.
Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 3:28 AM UTC
It’s hard to be human in a world that rejects the concept of humanity.
We meet hostility before humility.
We fight over space, before we create it.
How many boxes can human minds create before we suffocate, cease to exist?
How does one perceive higher intelligence?
There is no measurement,
For intelligence is acceptance…
Accepting the things we cannot change,
For after all we are human.
Who is your maker?
We made ourselves, so they say.
So why can’t we change ourselves?
Why can’t the Deepak’s and the Oprah’s deal with the deep matters of the mind.
Still trying, defining, living our nearsighted visions
Falling haplessly into hyper realities
We enjoy short lived tales on the backs of constructed fallacies
Those who have eyes? Why can’t they see?
History is alive, when I live it inside of me
Yet there is still a "rock a tree and a river" Maya Angelou
It is possible, they teach us more than we wish to discern.
We are a fortunate species, not robots.
We can sit for years contemplating the obvious.
We can ask for answers when there already provided.
We can keep fighting the things we won’t win
We can still try to be ruler while we are being ruled
And still question humanity when we are human.
We could carefully plan or courses.
Peregrinate upon rich soil that we never laid.
Drink water from those rivers that we never made.
See beauty in things we didn’t design
Take fruits of the field, and make ourselves wine.
To be human, then, is quite strange
And if you never listened, never heard, never cried
Never seen, never thought, never tasted,
Never felt,
Then perhaps you are not.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 12:38 PM UTC
Inhabiting the space between
Chaos and harmony
Entering the warmth of
Scarlet rivers
Indulging in verdant
Pungency
Soft lips of
Salt and honey
Meet mine
Haplessly embracing
A plate of cheese
And wine
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 2:31 AM UTC
Lest we fashion ourselves
in artificial joy,
we must sing to this world;
the poet’s envoy.
In these days so heavy,
In these days without cure,
we forget the homeless
asleep on the moor.
They’re asleep in our wake,
they’re asleep to the hiss
of advertised pleasure,
manufactured bliss
And forget not the old,
with those faces of fault lines,
so haplessly devoid,
like the old coal mines.
They live in their shadow,
they live within their past,
this world on which they’ve learnt
that nothing’s built to last.
No notebooks in the drawer,
Nor diaries of old,
The story’s in the sale,
Not from what is told.
So, before we get lost
In day-to-day routines,
Let us piece together
What life really means:
The faded word of print,
A sugared ring of wine,
Favourable melody,
Endless stretch of brine.
The winter’s passing rain,
And August’s fatal heat,
The swaying of the tyre swing
Where lovers care to meet.
And we will return to
Our places in the skies,
Where life is lived in centuries
Devoid of all goodbyes.
We’ll weep not in longing,
We’ll weep not in our haste,
For losses felt yesterday,
For all that’s laid to waste.
Upon the explosion
Of all these dying stars,
We’ll rejoice in the so-near’s
So much as the so-far’s.
We will live out our dreams
upon that foreign shore,
and sing out to our lives,
‘till we breathe no more
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 12:01 PM UTC
I am tired, I am worn
I just realized how love could easily be dispensed for another
I loved you with every molecule of my being
I’d like to move on with you
But I guess, you want to move on with someone else
Am I too pure, too innocent for you?
Am I taking this too seriously, it scares you?
You said, I’m a "rarity", but you expect me to woo you like the previous person that devastated you?
I’d like you to think this out really carefully
Because I'm tired of the mix signals you're giving off
Because I'm tired from laying low
I’m thinking of letting you go, for real this time
I tried my best to make you aware my love
I’m sorry if it wasn’t enough
A sputtering star trying to draw your attention, shimmering haplessly
Perhaps, I’m just a speck of dust in your vast cosmos—surrounded with stars more alluring
I tried to see you as a friend, but I just can’t see things the way they were
I can’t simply revert back to my former self, and pretend nothing happened, because something did
You taught me that just because we had so much in common, even if we shared the same views, the same quirks, and once, the same longing for each other
You can still be cruel enough to leave a laceration at someone’s heart that throbs for you
You can still clog someone's lungs with tar and nails who’s very purpose is to breathe for you
Please do not have the audacity to think that my arms are always unfurled for you, because I will still love you, but no longer as a lover, but as a compassionate deserter
My heart still burns for you, but I have to look away with just enough coldness to keep my sanity
Should I take this as a trial or a memorial?
Think carefully, my soulmate
Think, very carefully, my love
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 8:12 AM UTC
How alone is a coin
Thrown in a vast ocean?
In a tailspin of currents and waves
The coin has been haplessly led
Trembling and spinning restlessly
The coin sinks down to the ocean bed
Paddling its boundaries
The coin screams and yells.
But no one arrives,
No effort seems to help
Sinking deep into the dark, the coin smashes its head
On the rocky ocean bed
The coin wonders, will I rust forever or will I rise
Will I live again or will I lay here forever like dead?
How alone is a coin
Thrown in a vast ocean?
I am that coin.
Alone.
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 11:29 PM UTC
I̫ ̰̻̥̯̰̖̰w̖̤̗̞a̮͚͚̜̹͓n̪͙ͅt̤̭ ̳͍̝͍̰m͓̠y̗ ̯̭̝͎̱̲d͎̼̙̺a̭͈ṳ̺g̦͕͙̠h̲̫̯̩̱t̗͉͚͚̲e̺͔̤̮r̪̲̟̱̭ ͔ba͎c̯k͉̗͖
̭̠̣͍
̜I̗̜ ̰̼̳̥̻̙̹w̳͕̞͚̭̠a̟̠͍̲̦̜̝n̯͖̹̙̦̝̝t͚̙̙ ̦͎͈h͈e̜͚r̯̰͇̦̝,̠̖̞
̪̖̼͈s̫̜he͖ ̣̹w̥a̘̱̯̯s̗ͅ ̤̯͇̖ṣ̩we̱̭̦̭̜̩ͅe̟̩̳͙̝ͅt̪ ̖͇̱̳̪a̲͕̝͈n̠̺̲̬ͅd͚͕̫̪̘̳͇
̞͎͓̣͚̝͚ ̮̜̖ ̩̦̹̞̫̼͈ ̻̠̮̠ ̜̠̼̹͍͍͕k̰͖i̜n͇d̖̦
̥̟̼͇̮ḁ͖̤͓͇͖ͅn̳͉̱̹͕̰̗d̪̻̮̰
͇̜͚̜̮͓̥ ̜͈̭̘͔ ̞n͉͙o͕͔̦͈t̙̯̻̭̱̝ ͖͓̙l̮̳̣͙̞̙i͉͖̱͍͚̥̠ke̖ ̗̩͎̤̪y͖͇̼̯ou̗̬
͖̙̱͓̯̰I̹̺̗̻̼̲̫ ͕͕w̰̳̥̜a͚̯n̩t ̩̺̥͖̤̘h͖͉͖e̖̳͈͙͕̬r̝͓͖ ͇̻̱̖̝b̩a͔̻͇ck̺
I'll send a missive
a parcel, haplessly packaged
by these bumbling, cloddy digits
fill it with frailties
objet d'art of mine
my careful reminiscence
de anima
I will slice
like slivers of gold
pour in my intellect
places, names, things, phrases
I was sure I would forget
I'll synopsize my soul
throw it in a box,
carted off and off
until I'm set on the doorstep
an ogle and a gaze-in
at my what and whatnot
no return address
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 6:53 PM UTC