"inconsistancy" poems - Hello Poetry

If my psychi were a body of its own My melancholy would be the eyes running like a broken faucet a stream of confused Inconsistancy My anger would be the heart beating deep in my chest harder and harder as if trying to Escape My lonliness would be the belly deep with hunger that seems Infinite My ambitions would be the bowels a canal of waste moving downward a perpetual flow of filth I sift through my own feces in hopes of finding something Tangible worth keeping Something worth doing until The Inevitable punchline to a bad, ******* joke.

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Mar 26, 2017

Mar 26, 2017 at 4:46 AM UTC

christopher-aston

Mind and Body

If my psychi were a body of its own My melancholy would be the eyes running like a broken faucet a stream of confused Inconsistancy My anger would be the heart beating deep in my chest harder and harder as if trying to Escape My lonliness would be the belly deep with hunger that seems Infinite My ambitions would be the bowels a canal of waste moving downward a perpetual flow of filth I sift through my own feces in hopes of finding something Tangible worth keeping Something worth doing until The Inevitable punchline to a bad, ******* joke.

21

We almost drowned in the solitude of the nights that we cried alone Left in inconsistancy swallowed by the fear of anxiety The stress was just too much to handle The pain was just too much to bare And as we cried we panicked in flight We wanted out but had no where to turn The only door left open was far too out of reach for us We hid underneath the shame of burdens We laughed just to make light of it But all the overwhelming waves were challenging our minds in fright We were hopeless Life was backwards Seeds of beauty were planted in the dusk of our final meltdown Our final turn around The begnning of the end was near As we threw our hands up in the darkness We accepted that we had nothing left And our defeats were taking over Blinded by the fog of despair Life was bad We were lost And all dreams were at a distance We found faith in a ticking time bomb All our our fears began to evaporate Slowly We climbed the treacherous slope of glory Smiled in the mirror Danced inside the music Began to look forward and stopped looking back And life began to take its shape The collage of doom began to dissapear into the shadows And we were finally able to breathe in the freedom

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Dec 24, 2012

Dec 24, 2012 at 12:20 PM UTC

Caz

Slopes of Misery

We almost drowned in the solitude of the nights that we cried alone Left in inconsistancy swallowed by the fear of anxiety The stress was just too much to handle The pain was just too much to bare And as we cried we panicked in flight We wanted out but had no where to turn The only door left open was far too out of reach for us We hid underneath the shame of burdens We laughed just to make light of it But all the overwhelming waves were challenging our minds in fright We were hopeless Life was backwards Seeds of beauty were planted in the dusk of our final meltdown Our final turn around The begnning of the end was near As we threw our hands up in the darkness We accepted that we had nothing left And our defeats were taking over Blinded by the fog of despair Life was bad We were lost And all dreams were at a distance We found faith in a ticking time bomb All our our fears began to evaporate Slowly We climbed the treacherous slope of glory Smiled in the mirror Danced inside the music Began to look forward and stopped looking back And life began to take its shape The collage of doom began to dissapear into the shadows And we were finally able to breathe in the freedom

32

Being Emily is a mighty task. Inconsistancy never lasts. Freshness fades, getting old. Not so greatly bold. Give it time, you will see, There isn't much to me.

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Oct 12, 2010

Oct 12, 2010 at 6:44 PM UTC

emily-coon

Emily

Being Emily is a mighty task. Inconsistancy never lasts. Freshness fades, getting old. Not so greatly bold. Give it time, you will see, There isn't much to me.

6