"ineptness" poems
Time stopped. I had no bearing as to who, where, or what I was. All that was in my presence was the high, rolling desert painted orange with that odd sand-mud that he called “Geonosian rock;” his ebbing backpack being pulled from his shoulder, just like the ocean tide; his canteen bottle, lidless, slipping out of the rear pocket and whetting the sand with the boy’s quickly diminishing water supply; and the boy, Davy, being torn helplessly from safety by the cool, malevolent hands of gravity, and into the crevasse.
Reaching out desperately for the boy’s damp, warm hands, I grab a hold just in time—to consciousness, as he plummets and I stare wondrously; dumbfounded by my own ineptness in rational thinking. the boy is gone. Davy, my own stepson, my ******* child whom I would do anything for to prove my worth to his mother, Mary, who was the token to happiness with a new family, was ripped from my grasp, and eaten by the New Mexican terrain. So I delved after him.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 12:30 AM UTC
He gave me one hell of a cocktail, full
to the brim with snake oil and water from the rose,
And I started sailing like a sailor,
Straight to the moon, straight back to you,
To the ********* outer edge of the solar system.
And it’s this stupid attachment that gets to me,
I hug it like an octopus on a Christmas tree,
And distract myself by downloading anti-virus programs all day,
And smoking cigarettes and whatever else,
And I write out in anger in frustration,
I don’t want to rest, I can’t be my best,
So now I’m sick of this city,
And all it’s ineptness to sing to me,
I want to travel far, far away from the man who killed me.
He gave me one hell of a cocktail, full
to the brim with snake oil and water of the rose.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 1:24 AM UTC
Tired of keeping everything
inside of me
this is annoying
and just wrong
in so many ways.
I would like to tell you
but i dont think i will be able to
because you are so perfect
in your own world
that i fear my intrusion
of problems and worries
will destroy your wonders
hence, i refuse to tell you
not about anything else either
just, the fact
that your wonderful world
will be in broken pieces
should i share my worries and problems
Its too much to keep inside though
and people tell me to get help from you
and i try
I honestly try
but.
I cannot bring myself to tell you about it
no matter the amount of persuasion
done by the girl i have a lot of crush on
it wont bring me to a conclusion
of sharing my distant and evil plans
with you and your wonderful world
that i occasionally peek into
to try to replicate
but, as previously said
I am unable to do it
because of my ineptness
of doing anything
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 9:13 PM UTC
I'll have you think me crazy, to justify my own ineptness.
Brand me as lazy to ease the regret fest.
Bind me in safety nets so I can forget stress.
Tell me I'm fine, so I can accept less.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC
*The subtle shimmers of the candlelight
Reveal the hidden shadows of the night,
And beckons forward faces from the past,
A long lost love, the first but not the last.
An old acquaintance from so long ago
Is recreated in the yellow glow,
But fades again when some elusive draught
Proclaims my own ineptness for The Craft.*
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 4:31 AM UTC
Okie Girl
When I look at you,
I see my version of heaven
with all the stars that fill the skies
right there in your eyes
When I look at you,
I see my dreams come true
everything I ever wanted
everything I ever needed
When I look at you,
I see the sadness on your face
I hear the tears come falling down
the tears I sometimes cause
When I look at you,
I feel the pain you have inside you
I hear the laughter you sometimes release
the laughter I sometimes create
When I look at you,
I weep because I cannot have you
I cry because I cannot please you
feelings of ineptness fill my mind
When I look at you,
I know I have no answers
no ways of resolution
to fill your void
When I look at you,
I condemn the day I wandered in
into your life to complicate
into your world where I had no place
When I look at you,
I know no way to step aside
to leave where I do not belong
to put things back where they were
When I look at you,
I wonder how are lives will ever be
ever be the same again
ever be the way we want them to be
When I look at you I know
I cannot ever be with you
I do not want to be without you
I depise my life and the mess I have made
when I look at you
I wonder if you will ever forgive me
I wonder how I will go on if you don't
I know how much I love you
Gomer LePoet...
Jul 24, 2010
Jul 24, 2010 at 7:37 PM UTC
Forgive my ineptness
at showing my true self
Sometimes my heart gets placed
alone
on a shelf
and stays there waiting to be found
by someone who truly wants me around.
And if by chance
no one claims my heart
or truly wants me
(even a small part)
I'll just leave my heart
alone
on that shelf
and wait for someone to see
that surely there is love waiting
somewhere out there (for me?)
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 1:18 AM UTC
Mind your English,
Watch your French.
What here, are these words I see?
It all looks like Greek to me...
Day in, day out, I toil, I labor
Seeking and augmenting my repertoire of words.
More often, so often, I read, I find
My disgust in my own language's ineptness.
I say here, I love you.
But as also I say there,
I love you as well.
But society has brought love
Crashing down around their ears
For these two loves are naught the same!
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 9:03 AM UTC
questioning my core competency
_______________________________
*man or woman, an irrelevancy,
we all believe that we possess
certain core competencies that
reflect our managerial skills, the
hows of how we organize and smooth
the daily mishmash of our otherwise
would-be-totally-hellish-lives*
minor stuff, that have the risk potency
of the skinny tail of the curve, where the
highly improbable
seems to happen as if regularly scheduled.
let the gas tank go to E, worse, unnoticeably,
but on a small isle, with no AAA, a single gas station,
in howling wind, and summer rain mael-strom,
forced to risk a brief trip over hilly terrain, fearful of
being gas poor on the stuck-side of the road, with
no one to call, no savior to summon, and my sense
of self, now shattered-glass on the side of the road.
*did I mention that the night prior when the situation
was yellow lit to get my immediate attention, I had
forgotten my instrumental human connectivity, my
Inshallah cell phone (1), at our dining out restaraunt,
making necessary a seven point four mile R/T detour,
to preserve my integrity, pride, communicability, and
the few(er) left, shards of my lesser antilles’ ego and pride.*
turns out that even on E, for long periods, you still
can go some distance for the car designers, all liars,
to nice people like me, leave a gallon reserve undisclosed,
for the vain and statically stupid of which I am a member.
more details of my ineptness, shameful, shall not be herein revealed, but when we meet, gladly be disclosed over alcohol.
*but it is now between the hours of nine and ten AM, and despite
imbibing 22.5. ozs. of Jamaican coffee, I return to bed,
having made it to the local station with gnawed knuckles,
and chewed lower lip,
lower the shades, announce to no one in particular, hello,
do not disturb, for-up-all-night-poet-ite, is exhausted the
exhaust of depression, for his core competencies have
been renamed, now and forever, his*
gored incompetencies!
p.s. E, having consulted the owner’s manual,
stands for more precisely ,
Empty Headed
Jul 16, 2023
Jul 16, 2023 at 10:14 AM UTC
It's time for cleansing
by writing
the mechanics of which
seem immaterial.
But my frustration
with man's inhumanity to man
The ineptness it leads to, doesn't,
and the ludicrousness that
I feel in my own self
as I see myself
mirrored in them
tells me
there's a bottomless
pit
of criticisms
lying within me
such that
I'm a typical bellyacher.
I wish I'd cut it out
and after that not look for
flaws in others
especially cruelty to dogs,
children, and elderly women.
I'm as guilty as the next guy.
In other words, life
is fascinating.
Why not the adventure
of it lead to you
question from
that which you pay.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 2:24 PM UTC
Will I find you here Mary?
I have stood by for long now, and you are still not here >
The lake is cold by mist and frost
The wild geese have arrived here
Of course.
As I tried in vain
To repair my old motorcycle
But gosh! Lest had I forgot
That my pet, Lucy
Had eaten the guide to
My salvation;
It had tasted upon 'Zen
And The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance'!
That I carried in my pannier
As I sit there,
Staring at the solemn solace,
In solicit solitude –
I find that you were right,
That I don’t have to walk on my knees
For a hundred miles through desert;
Repenting,
But all I have to do is, let my heart
Linger amongst the crimson red
Flowers and butterflies and
To appreciate my ineptness.
I am thirsty of imagination!
And yet I wait for your arrival –
You have to keep your words,
For I wait to tell you
All my despairs – and to listen
To all of yours,
Meanwhile the sun scrapes a
Shy blossom in the sky
And the clear pebbles of rain,
Bathe the long stretch of landscapes
Along the prairies and the deep trees!
The wild geese now have started
Their ebb and flow,
And I still feel alone –
Whoever I may be,
The first cries, now of the geese
Call out to me to say,
That you are close by
And I, a pawn in the
Family of things!
Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 12:28 AM UTC