"hoper" poems
The glory of failure.
It’s just **** with sugar on
Jam and cream without the scone.
Because when I’m begging out in the street
And my eyes happen to meet those eyes that look down
To me on the ground, and you put a coin in my cup,
Just remember you’re looking down I’m the one looking up.
And for those who pass by while shedding a tear
Don’t worry yourself none I’ve made enough for my gear
And more than enough for a couple of beers.
I know what you’ll say
You’ll say, I waste life away
Like I’ve wasted this day.
But I’ll say, I made enough to pay for my addiction.
The seduction which leads me to say
That’s the glory of failure.
I saw an advert for a job and this job was paying quite a few bob.
But I wouldn’t have got it…no sugar just ****
So I didn’t bother trying
I went back to lying on my bed
I went back to getting out of my head.
When all’s done and said I’m just a no hoper
A drug fiendish doper.
That’s the glory of failure.
If I could have a chance, a second chance, a last chance
To get my brain round to thinking
To think I’ll stop drinking.
I could get off the gear, I could get off my rear.
I could send my C.V to employers
Those employers who are known as the unemployment destroyers.
I could have a meaning instead of this leaning I have,
Towards self destruction.
I could get a job on a site become involved in construction.
So many things on the doorstep right here
But really
I much rather prefer getting ****** on the gear.
Oh yes that’s the glory of failure.
I should get myself well move out from this hell
But what the doctors have said is, in six months I’ll be dead
So I’m going to make tracks.
No,not those made by the needle
I’m going to wheedle
My way into a hospice which could be quite nice.
I think that’s the glory of failure
But what the hey I’m a guardian reader
But unlike other guardian readers those centre right bleeders
I’m totally anarchist, often totally tanked up and ******
But in reading the guardian I just cannot lose
It makes such wonderful padding for the holes in the soles of my shoes.
And I’ve had plenty of dates with several girlfriends of mates
But when they’re looking down there and they see nothing stir.
That may be the glory of failure.
Perhaps when I’m old and I’m ready to die
I might cast my mind back and I might wonder why,
Every time I have failed the boat seems to have just sailed.
But I was never a sailor.
I was just a participant in
The Glory Of Failure.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 3:13 AM UTC
blowing bubbles on a summer day
laying on the blanket, as scratchy as a lamb
wishing for a lover, a hoper, a dreamer to stay
instead of these sorry *** losers who dont give a ****
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 8:24 PM UTC
Oh, but please spare my head of necessities
of the complexities
that are but trivial and non-existential
to the pursuit of living and thriving,
not in a pool of segregating ridden paper,
but in a bath of mentation and minds wide open.
And please bite your tongue,
when the lick of a serpent dances across your taste buds,
when you wish to deprive me that of a young mind
and youthful stride.
I do not wish to be at one with your negativity,
I wish to flee and sprint from your gloomy, pessimistic stint.
Rather, I invite you to join me in the pursuit of creativity,
to strive to leave your imprint,
of sheer, requited positivity.
But if you will,
without a plee,
I wish to help you swing with me
on practiced words and the fleet from stability,
I wish to take you on a stroll,
through and into the soul,
of nothing less than a dreamer,
of a hoper,
of someone so desperately fleeing
from the necessities of the complexities.
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
google brings strange memories.
my friends talk of the coat hanger
effect. hanging our wares on each others’
shoulders, bearing us all down with the weight.
share it out they say, with friends and family,
loose and flowing, mind your engine does
not pink, we must have finer fuel. not feeling
our true self can be an infliction, the grave digger
reminds us of our years, our sense of humour.
sbm
we stare at icons, hoper for a better price,
i went to the market yesterday.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 1:04 AM UTC
These past couple of moments have been beautifully ideal,
I feel carefree talking to you, somehow that brings a lot into question, what's fake and what's real?
Maybe it's due to my unchangeable inability to trust.
Do we actually believe someone is being genuine without expecting anything in return from us?
These insecurities, you didn't cause them.
Still in my eyes you're a flawless, tainted gem.
So perfect, your faults make you perfect.
Only for a second do I believe that maybe we're worth it.
But how do you turn a nonbeliever into a dreamer?
A no-faither into a hoper?
The blind into seers?
The mute into preachers?
The immobile into runners?
The numb into healers?
The obvious answer is you can't,
No ungifted man can.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 5:25 AM UTC
My heart was aching from writing to you,
A letter that defined my feelings toward you.
As hard as it may seems.
As fragile as your souls it may be.
That shows our inseparability.
Yet all of my sins that you have devoured purging the path of Darkness and Sadnes all the way.
It may be unforgiven because the Devil was once an Angel himself.
Yet he was threw to the darkest, deepest pit of the World.
Is that a desirable and suitable place I shall be?
I sense that rejection is not a failure, getting back together is not a no-hoper.
But still, the root is your truly pure-hearted soul.
All is yours and not mine.
The 'was' in we. The 'had' in us. The togetherness shrinks deeply as my sorrow turns deeply hallow.
Into unexpressed words, rhymed with the loneliest soul in the world.
Undefined by feelings and emotions.
This is the letter, I made for you, my darling.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
O wind,thou that art scented with the scents,
Of a thousand fallen leaves and grass,art
The hoper's hope,and carry,in torrents,
The wishes of all,of all that have heart.
Bear my wish! I wish that my soul be gone!
Be gone with thee,there,where no burdens lie,
On the poor flesh,and that I be alone,
So I may,my own meek self falsify!
But if you can't carry my sullied soul,
Take my lips to my love,so I may speak,
And in my gentlest manner,kiss her all.
Or bring me the scent of her rosy cheek!
Be steady,O wind,for on thee I rest,
My hope,that does all my love manifest.
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 7:22 AM UTC
I wish that i could stop dreaming because in the end my friend i wake up screaming. Blind and unseeing i arise, wide eyed with my voice flying from my throat. you all know that i have nightmares, or if u dont you dont care. Scribbles from my pen reveal that to feel one must live and to live one must lie awake at night, free to think with insanity flowing through his veins. Attacking sanity because sanity is a cage that enrages me. The thinker , the feeler, the hoper, the dreamer. In all sanity one is far from reality. A wise man once said to me "things are not what they seem". The silent are screaming the dreaming are waking, the fallen are flying, the living are dying, and still we cant see that we are blind to the truth. I was blind to the truth but now death is dead to me.
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 7:08 PM UTC
ever since i was young, i've had this pretense of positivity brought onto me. oh, how sweet and personable she is, they'd say. i didn't understand the significance of their words at the time nor did i realize they influenced my whole life.
but y'know
life's full of mysterious things and reasons why and no one completely understands how it can simply **** you over
y'know
i have never pretended to be outwardly pessimistic. i believe that hope and love and life will surely have a happy ending, right? i'd say that i have always been the optimist; the hoper; the lover; the dreamer.
but you should know
life's full of mysterious things and reasons why and no one can ******* understand how the pain can simply end you
don't you think,
at this point, people should just give up? less pain, less heartbreak, less ache.
they would think
life's full of mysterious things and reasons why and they simply can't understand why it has to hurt like this
i'm sitting here thinking "what happened to being the dreamer of impossible dreams? the hoper of hopes flung so far that you're terrified you won't survive the fall down if you fail?
and well
i know
life's full of mysterious things and reasons why and i'm sitting here screaming "why does no one ******* understand?"
at the top of my lungs.
Jun 29, 2021
Jun 29, 2021 at 10:00 PM UTC
what is a (has been) doing here
writing outmoded poems
which never of others
will entirely endear
heck there's but one thing to do
get off the poetry site
and let talented penners
entertain you
since it's a dud at the art
of poetry creation
it'll be taking a no hoper's
extended vacation
the fossilized matter must
bore no more in ho-hum fashion
tis time to exhibit departing
compassion
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 10:27 PM UTC
Pretty,I can't be
Ugly, I can be
Rich, I can't be
Poor, I can be
But I know my worth.
Smarter,I can't be
Silly, I can be
White, I can't be
Black, I can be
But I know my worth
I am No-Hoper
I am Non-Entity
I am Non-Starter
I am A Failurer
I am A Hustler
But I am still Worthwhile.
I am Young
I am Black
I am Gifted
I am African
I am Son of God
And I am still Worthwhile.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 3:02 AM UTC
some people like to say,
'a poem's not a poem until you make it rhyme'
in some respect I guess that's true,
but the most important thing is
getting your thoughts out on every line.
some people like to say,
'you aren't a writer if your work's not published'
but in truth that's not the case,
as long as you enjoy yourself,
you can jot until contented.
some people say
'you can't write about that'
but truthfully there are no boundaries,
just do what comes easy,
let your mind go on journeys.
so when a person tells you you're no good
or enforces you to stop,
let them know you're a jotter,
a scrawler,
a hoper,
a dreamer,
and none of their words let you drop.
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 4:33 PM UTC
When she was born
She was a blank canvas
And now,
Now she is every color,
Black nightmares,
Orange smiles,
Pink kisses,
A red lover,
A white believer,
A periwinkle hoper,
She is every color,
She has lived
And she is proud to say
She is not just green envy
And she is not just blue tears
She is all the colors
For all her moments
For all the days she has spent alive
Another color was added
And she is just the biggest rainbow ever now.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC
Beyond the sales tactics
I listen to the voice of the liars
Loud in pitch, high with the verbs
I need to be alone, with my thoughts,
Mind control,
*The demon is a liar. He will lie to confuse us;
but he will also mix lies with the truth to attack us.
His attack is psychological, Damien. And powerful.”
― William Peter Blatty,*
I want to mastered my own mind,
To deal with the universe and it’s allied:
How can one reason with someone
Who have lost everything?
Own your feelings or the situation owns you: quote
And do remember, it's not advertising; its mind control”
**If you are a dreamer come in
If you are a dreamer a wisher a liar
A hoper a pray-er a magic-bean-buyer
If you’re a pretender com sit by my fire
For we have some flax golden tales to spin
Come in!
Come in!”
― Shel Silverstein**
If I am a dreamer let me dream
Because you couldn’t dream big
Don’t awake me: let me save my pillow face
Too many ideas, jumping from one to the another idea
Sometimes, it feel like I am holding a snowball in my hands in the middle of July it dripping, it’s melting,
It searching for ten degree weather:
Dream further than beyond your height:
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 5:57 PM UTC
I'm not a winner
I'm not a fighter
I'm not a beliver
I'm not a hoper
I'm not a giver
I'm not a lover
I'm not outgoing
I'm not smart
I'm not pretty
I'm not beautiful
I'm not afraid
I'm not scared
I DON'T BELEIVE PEOPLE THAT TELL ME THIS
BECAUSE WE ALL KNOW RIGHT AWAY THAT
THERE JUST SCARED TO SAY THE REAL THINGS
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
I’m making an honest living
Everything else I’m giving
To keep the world spinning
Yet I feel I’m not winning
As others pass me
Thinking they’re classy
Their weapons blast me
Causing pain everlasting
They’re like crack addicts
With attack tactics
Viciousness attracted
Their violence didactic
They can’t spare the rock
In this paradox
Where they care for stocks
And selling glocks
Farmer
Meets charmer
A disguised harmer
Dressed in social armor
With wealth they flex
For wealth is success
Wealth can undress
****** impressed
Materialism strangles
With salesman angles
The consumer tangled
Becomes helplessly mangled
Looking to turn the tables
I cut my social cables
A cutthroat mentality enabled
Only financially am I stable
A ******
Hunts me
Grunting
Bluntly
About getting his dues
Through cut and bruise
Controlling the news
So I know I’ll lose
The social anxiety
Inside of me
Pirating
The life of me
From the strife I see
Makes acting righteously
Seem like goodnight for me
To avoid being a fool
I play by their rules
By acting cruel
To win this duel
Of fatal competition
That Satan envisioned
For our moral dereliction
From our paper prescription
With no self esteem
I join a selfish team
With a hellish dream
Believing genocide cleans
I’m always conforming
To not be a minority
But a thorn in me
Says I’m *******
I’m perched in the mist
Of being purposeless
So ******* purchases
Drown my worthlessness
When my heart is dying
Yet I must keep producing
I think that I’m trying
Which is quite amusing
After demon fusing
I can’t see I’m losing
I’ve morphed from a hoper
Into an interloper
Who’s splintered poker
Becomes society’s choker
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 11:03 AM UTC
Falling down
Head first,
Beneath the ground.
Dust and dirt
Bring me around
Warmth stinged my bones
Laid my body down
Tired and rusted
Once broken, a new one grows
Disposed, and another shows
Destroyed one will be cured
Meaningless one will assured
Things recurred someday'll quit
One falling down, will rose
The ones who grow
A little while ago
Cried and tired a bit.
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 8:30 PM UTC
I held the world in the palm of my hands,
and it crumbled in the melodic breath
of change.
So the world collapsed,
crickets chirped and tumbleweed rolled on by like
strange passerbys I'd come to be familiar with
these awkward interims filled the voids,
and silence became the only noise
that was comfort to me.
I played each silence like a symphony,
conducting each one; a Beethoven masterpiece
Van Gogh would have cut his right ear off in envy
if he'd seen the way I painted my silences
but none of them were starry nights
just pools of darkness I had learnt to swim in,
until I finally realised,
I was becoming a bit more Sysyphean
when I really wanted to be a bit more
Achillean.
And responsibility dawned on me like the sky on Atlas's shoulders,
and flattened the demons I'd sheltered a while
so with each day,
I began to feel a little bolder, stronger
more like a hoper,
a hero with a new name. I no longer needed to paint forlorn silences
but something sweeter
so I painted a hero. Me.
Artfully.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 7:43 PM UTC
There are moments
In the abyss of life
That you just want
To give up and quit it all
When it feels like
Nothing will ever work
Not for us
These moments come
Sporadically
Without realizing it
They emerge to sink your heart
You feel weak
But you hold on
Because
****** you're a dreamer
You're a hoper
And though it hurts
And although it looks bad
You hold on
Because you hope one day
You'll never have to feel that way again.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 12:32 PM UTC
He is fearless but not brave.
A servant. Not a slave.
A hater, not a hoper.
It's true.
Though he shines, the light's shallow.
A barren lamplight so hollow.
A shadow destined to be shamed
and broken.
Take for instance his great burden.
Is this a cross? Or a warden
of a state which is true...
Is it really?
But he holds together surely
as his spirit's dying, purely
just to show he can last
a year more.
Yet the taint of his upbringing
causes disease which starts singing
in his lungs and his heart
and his mind's eye.
So when he speaks, close your please.
When he writes, look away and cease
from believing, receiving
his lies and revolt
For a rebel has restarted,
fully now he has departed
and to hell with all others
who think he's not bad.
Unsmile that great happy structure.
Please frown, and he will fracture
all your hopes, to your kids
and your future.
And when you feel fully harrowed.
Just see his grave. His tombed barrow.
You will see him in your dreams.
As a shadow.
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 7:34 PM UTC