"heedlessness" poems
Under the thinning boughs of the Ash
he recanted the hush of the woods
The rain's dearth relented
as the Dryads, braided new ideals,
promising great abundance.
The sated Moon-flowers swallowed the
nocturnal owls silhouette.
The fallow lands impervious
to these swathes, broom
sealing their heedlessness.
May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 2:23 PM UTC
*maybe it’s music
maybe it’s art
maybe it’s poetry
maybe it’s a joint
maybe it’s the color of your eyes
or maybe it’s the taste of your lips
which act as a frivolous distraction
an attempt to fill the void
to give me the sense of fulfillment I so desperately crave
I will continue to indulge myself in intoxicating heedlessness
until I have found what I am looking for
or fall to my grave in the process*
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 9:50 AM UTC
I have beheld
the simpleminded
lark, who sings
sustained
until the very moment
he crumples against
the glass--
I have beheld
the fruitlessness
of his path.
I see now that
the sparrow is
propelled, and what
propels her:
a heedlessness
an artlessness
behind her.
I have held
the hand of a man
in tears and
pet his head.
I have walked in-
to churches one way
and expected to come out
another: naivety.
I have come
to understand why
few ever find
the tunnel's exit.
Behold: one smoker,
smoking; one sad
girl with an older
man; one blind
woman, walking;
one foolish bird
in flight
towards a window.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 1:26 AM UTC
Much of America is mourning still--
Mourning the light extinguished when
Heedlessness embraced false promise;
Mourning the loss of what could have been;
Mourning the hope of a glorious day
Darkened by a cloud of despair
And sincere interconnectedness
Became replaced by vanity fair;
Mourning the loss of a heart that beat
For all and not for a limited few,
And coarseness received people's praise,
And true refinement became taboo;
Mourning a dream of inclusiveness
With all-embracing open arms
When a nightmare smothered it
And drowned out warnings and alarms;
Mourning the flower of optimism
With hope in every opening bud
When weeds with thorns of cynicism
Flourished, and hope was dripping in blood;
Mourning the renewed freshness of spring
And the calm peace of a summer's night,
Ravished by winds of uncertainty
And the bitter harshness of winter's blight.
Much of America is mourning still.
The grief will end one day. Till then,
We all move forward while many continue
To mourn the loss of what could have been.
- by Bob B (11-25-16)
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 10:41 AM UTC
Shame, oh shame on you, America!
I swear this is really as low as it gets:
To fail those faithful ones who served you.
How can you do this to our vets?
Oh, you who love to send our soldiers
To fight your battles in a distant land,
And bring them home—injured, rattled—
And then deny them a helping hand
Because we can’t afford the costs
Of meeting the growing number of cases.
You drop off your kids at their private schools
Then go to your clubs and stuff your faces!
Shame, oh shame on you, America,
For ignoring those who’ve sounded the alarm.
Your heedlessness and your thoughtless greed
Have caused our vets irreparable harm.
How sad it is when our veteran facilities,
Choosing to avoid some angry looks,
Solve the problem of limited funds
With the simple approach of cooking the books!
Some vets languish on wait lists for weeks,
Hoping against hope that assistance arrives
Before their frustrations overwhelm them
And they end up taking their lives.
Why aren’t our vets our top priority?
I guess it’s more important that we
Provide huge tax breaks to the wealthy
And subsidize corporations, you see.
Shame, oh shame on you, America!
You’re quick to spend your money on wars,
But slow to help our needy veterans
Here on our vast, indifferent shores!
- by Bob B
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 7:40 AM UTC
The earth is changing
into a turbulent world
by man's heedlessness
_________
Apr 12, 2024
Apr 12, 2024 at 1:45 PM UTC
the thought of having *** makes me ill
this place holds the time we first kissed
go backwards with me
stay, lets lay underneath the moon for another year
I'm bored of the constant mention of the heart
of the condition of my own
of not knowing whether yours keeps its blood moving for mine
I've become indifferent to the gentle heedlessness of the world
I have your hands to wipe my tears with now
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 3:57 PM UTC
Beneath the oak tree I lie
Watching all the passers-by:
Here are a happy chubby boy
And a girl playing with a toy,
I hear them intellectually converse
Over the sins of universe:
‘Humans crave wealth with immense love,
Like the bread crust eaten by a hungry dove,
Like an elephant devouring tons of peanuts,
Like an ape wolfing down a tree of coconuts,
Like pearls bringing woes to misers,
Like swords slaying their carriers,
Like truces signed by traitors,
Calling them “The Peace Creators”
Like Pharaohs, owners of stakes,
Oppressing within lands and lakes,
Like Agamemnon taking Achilles’ prize,
Like Caesar thinking he’d immortalize.’
‘I concur,’ the girl goes on to say,
‘Our life on earth is a short stay,
The Lord above we should obey,
But creatures, insolently, go astray;
Yet He awards us generously.
Caution: we may be taken heedlessly!’
No time to waste, no time to sleep,
No time to slacken; the matter IS deep:
To the Lord above I beseech,
Oh God, have mercy on our breach.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 1:59 AM UTC