"ingratitude" poems
Asleep alone
I got the light scare
Of a nightmare
With my plight there
Which wouldn't fight fair
Awake awaits
Chirping is all I hear
Dragging life into focus
Getting the lens clear
To see things are hopeless
My aches and pains
Are my body's refrain
To remind me of existence
Despite my mental resistance
I am lucid
I take my shoelace
And loop it
To run a new race
Timidly trembling
The violence in my dreams
Matches the silence and screams
That defile us and our team
Making the nightmares real
And the pain I can feel
So it's love I steal
A devil's deal
Hell unsealed
I can hear the vultures chirping
Or maybe they're just burping
Out the demons I ignored
My forgiveness they implored
To meet a silent scorn
Like a muted tribal horn
Banishing them to another realm
With my ostracism at the helm
Until the lonely are overwhelmed
And I see the error of my ways
Once I'm part of this chaotic haze
Practically paralyzed
I am lost
In this game
I've met the boss
He and I the same
He is a voice
Chirping in my ear
Saying I have no choice
I should give in to fear
And just drink beer
Until the end is here
Carelessly comatose
The birds that once sang beautifully
Now retreat dutifully
When they see my thoughtless anger
Turn me into a ruthless stranger
Creating danger
For those living righteously
They start fighting me
Trying to enlighten me
Which is only exciting me
Because I lack the sight to see
What the world could be
If we could harmonize
Like the birds
Not using argent lies
But soothing words
Yet there is no tax exemption
For my reluctant redemption
So my mind invented
No incentive
Soul slaughtered
The tear jerking
Birds chirping
Constantly remind me
Inside my sleep they find me
Thrusting me into a life unwinding
Through my window the sun is blinding
When I start to fear my brother
After seeing mirrors in others
Reflecting my attitude
Of ingratitude
I had a nasty nightmare
Of Camp Crystal Lake
Filled with misfit flakes
Paying for their mistakes
With pain and suffering
As deep as a submarine
Being torn apart
For every decision
Hiding their heart
To avoid incisions
And once all these losers are slain
The birds chirping start a new day
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 4:14 AM UTC
☺☻╬☻
Finish the crackers --- grab a smoke . . .
of Ferguson my muse will sing.
A call to arms --- God’s fires to stoke;
let Truth and Freedom ring!
Take to the streets; avenge this wrong
and hasten the end of racist rule.
Justice, though it may tarry long
will find its target in the duel.
Young Michael Brown, like all true saints
found himself craving Swisher Sweets.
He robbed a store, whose camera paints
impartial portrait. In the streets
the thief refused to be detained
and so threw off police restraint.
Though sin escaped, the Law remained
and made a martyr of this saint.
The agitators did their thing:
inflaming thugs to smash and loot,
while racists baited hooks, to string
the press. Officials followed suit.
Angels, although not always kind,
do not display this attitude –
aware of how the police mind
responds to such ingratitude.
We ought to thank the police force
for showing mercy under stress.
The culprit chose a foolish course
and made a God-awful mess.
Prince Michael met ignoble fate
(that ghetto-Christ, that righteous youth)
His sacrifice in vain --- though great,
could not impede the march of Truth.
Ferguson, our eyes turn towards you . . .
are you now able to admit
while reality rewards you
that looting and lying ain’t ****
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
There are no more bad days.
There are moments
of ingratitude
of rage
of self-pity
of hatred.
Those do not last.
There are
friends
family
caregivers
kind strangers.
These are evergreens.
Bad moments need not
become bad days.
The song of life
plays on between them.
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 9:38 AM UTC
Farewell, false love, the oracle of lies,
A mortal foe and enemy to rest,
An envious boy, from whom all cares arise,
A ******* vile, a beast with rage possessed,
A way of error, a temple full of treason,
In all effects contrary unto reason.
A poisoned serpent covered all with flowers,
Mother of sighs, and murderer of repose,
A sea of sorrows whence are drawn such showers
As moisture lend to every grief that grows;
A school of guile, a net of deep deceit,
A gilded hook that holds a poisoned bait.
A fortress foiled, which reason did defend,
A siren song, a fever of the mind,
A maze wherein affection finds no end,
A raging cloud that runs before the wind,
A substance like the shadow of the sun,
A goal of grief for which the wisest run.
A quenchless fire, a nurse of trembling fear,
A path that leads to peril and mishap,
A true retreat of sorrow and despair,
An idle boy that sleeps in pleasure’s lap,
A deep mistrust of that which certain seems,
A hope of that which reason doubtful deems.
Sith then thy trains my younger years betrayed,
And for my faith ingratitude I find;
And sith repentance hath my wrongs bewrayed,
Whose course was ever contrary to kind:
False love, desire, and beauty frail, adieu.
Dead is the root whence all these fancies grew.
3.2k
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man’s ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh ** sing, heigh ** unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh ** the holly!
This life is most jolly.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remember’d not.
Heigh ** sing, heigh ** unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh ** the holly!
This life is most jolly.
3.1k
*Come, listen all -
listen to a very gentle fable
Of Donkey, Dog and Man
and the friendship
amongst these three*
1
Donkey and Dog are loyal servants;
they’ve served the same master
all their lives
It’s night now and
Donkey and Dog sleep
in the courtyard
while Master
snores in the house
A thief sneaks in
through the gate
and donkey whispers
as gently as he can:
*Hey, dog…There’s an intruder;
Why don’t you bark and let master know?*
And the old Dog growls as
quietly as he can:
*Why don’t you bray aloud
and raise the alarm?*
*Hey, but you’re the dog
and you’re man’s best friend,*
Donkey whispers in the dark
Man’s best friend, eh?
says Dog.
*But is man the dog’s best friend?
I’ve served the master for ages
and now that I’m old he neglects me
and is talking about taking another dog.
I bet he’ll have you skinned alive
when you’re dead!
To the dogs with him!
You bray if you like.*
2
*Oh I’ve never seen
a more ungrateful being,*
Donkey says.
*Master is the best
and though he treats
us harsh
it’s all for our own good.
But your ingratitude offends me
and for the sake of decency and justice
and for all the values I hold dear
I shall have to do
a watchdog’s duty instead.*
And with that
the donkey brays aloud
and the cacophony is heard
in all the village
and the thief runs away as quickly as he can;
and the master comes running out with a huge stick
and seeing the donkey braying madly
with no cause but its own stupidity
the master beats the donkey well and proper
till all his own hands ache
and he goes back to bed
And now Dog and Donkey
lie down again together
in the courtyard
and Dog says to the quiet Donkey:
*Looks like you just found out
how it feels to be man’s best friend!*
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 3:17 AM UTC
I see you,
Drinking from the water of inhumanity
Smoking the leaves of ingratitude
And eating the seeds of hypocrisy.
Observing you,
I found myself drunk of sorrow.
And it makes me,
Drink from the water of insomnia
Smoke the leaves of melancholy
And eat the seeds of solitude
So I can, finally,
Be drunk of madness
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 3:16 PM UTC
Columbine upon my desk,
a dusty pinkish
unstable shade of purple -
aquilegia vulgaris -
thought to be thankless,
even a sign of ingratitude
this Orphelian flower.
Mine has ten doves in a circle,
though tradition claims it seven:
Holy Mary’s footsteps,
Isaiah’s Gifts of the Spirit.
For me it must remain those final bell-like
chords of Messiaen’s La Columbe,
described in his mother’s verse as
'Cloches d’angoisse et larmes d’adieu’.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 11:46 AM UTC
O HEART, be at peace, because
Nor knave nor dolt can break
What's not for their applause,
Being for a woman's sake.
Enough if the work has seemed,
So did she your strength renew,
A dream that a lion had dreamed
Till the wilderness cried aloud,
A secret between you two,
Between the proud and the proud.
What, still you would have their praise!
But here's a haughtier text,
The labyrinth of her days
That her own strangeness perplexed;
And how what her dreaming gave
Earned slander, ingratitude,
From self-same dolt and knave;
Aye, and worse wrong than these.
Yet she, singing upon her road,
Half lion, half child, is at peace.
2.2k
Blow, blow, thou winter wind
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most freindship if feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.
Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky,
That does not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As a friend remembered not.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 5:21 AM UTC
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man’s ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remembered not.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly...
William Shakespeare 1564-1616
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 8:49 PM UTC
From the other room
I listen as you explain the many, many, many
reasons, things, times, and appointments
that necessarily mean
the end
of us
The otherness and incidentals
of the often forgotten
details and to-dos
of lives
better
and happier lived
From the other room
I listen as you describe your life in words of
painful regret, missed opportunities and hopeless futures
that don’t exist
so very much
for me
The pain and ingratitude
of a poor life
disrespect and disregard
becoming the
ante
of daily living
From the other room
I listen as you check emails and vmails and texts
of agreement, refreshment, and immediate joy
that shower down
from new confidantes
not me
The pleasure of escaping
from the marital mundane
dancing and drinking
re-becoming
the woman
admired
From the other room
I remember the choices we made
when agreement was agreeable and available
that made lives
worth
living well
The simpleness of a look
the knowing confidence
day in and day out
when someone,
You,
cared.
10.iii.10
Mar 5, 2011
Mar 5, 2011 at 3:12 PM UTC
The sadness in one’s life
Can ruin one’s writing
No matter how sad
Or how good at fighting
The person who tries so hard
To please everyone
Thankless, Hopeless
Sad
Efforts futile
Trial wasted
Maybe someday
I’ll be appreciated
Running on empty
For far too long
Maybe someone
Will hear this song
Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 8:10 PM UTC
Oh! Indians!
In this land of Harischandra, India,
The wheel of life moves indifferent
Why this indolence, seek the media
Come to inferences sadly different.
Pre-independent great leaders sacrificed
Disinterested in material benefits; they
Rooted in struggle for freedom, though crucified
The dripping blood stirred their spirit gay.
But, now the blood and the spirit are diluted
Generations of ingratitude grow up lazy.
Sans sense of history, love and being looted
Whereto we move, Oh! Indians! on way greasy.
Awake brothers think why we are betrayed
Like a hound chased sheep we are strayed.
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 2:54 AM UTC
*I wish life had taught me differently.
Much more than pain.
Than the struggles I go through.
Rejection.
Betrayal.
Hate.
Ingratitude.
Growing up, I always wanted to be an angel.
I never wanted to be the reason why a tear should be shed.
I wanted to live harmless...
But the more good I did, the more the rude universe made a fool out of me.
Failed me.
Made me eat and drink from the tears of my mysery.
So now I sit, and as I listen to a song on my background,
am trying to clean up myself.
From all the dirt the world poured on me.
From all the hate that smeared my once white heart, black.
Am weary, because am not any different now.
I hurt too, when I chose to defend my soul.
I dont mean to.
If only I could go back to a baby again, I'd never wish to grow up.
I'd only be angry for a minute and the next holding your hand to the mall.
I wouldnt want to revenge so bad that my life would stand still.
I'd never be scared to love because of the fear of being rejected one day.
I'd cry when am uncomfortable and know that someone would come to wipe my tears away and comfort me to sleep.
But now am grown.
And Only God's grace can take me back to that place.
The place of joy despite the happenings around me.
The place of peace when someone walks away.
All I need now, is fixing.
Once again, Fix me Jesus...Fix me.*
©The Unspoken
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 4:00 AM UTC
Sitting in your old arm chair,
With a devil may care,
Attitude.
Talking about the ingratitude
Of youth.
Watching TV,
Eating microwaveable meals,
Grumpa,
I still love you,
I remember the times when I was young,
and you helped me,
when I was stung,
by a wasp,
or fell over.
Life is hard,
it makes you,
grumpy and
lonely,
Please think of the things you’ve shown me,
Rather than talking about the things that make you despair
I know behind the passive aggression you still care,
I know I sometimes take the ****
But really Grumpa,
I can see all your tricks,
There is still, to my surprise,
magic behind those eyes,
And bedtime stories waiting to be read.
Grumpa,
Don’t lose the thread
We all need a grandfather like you,
For you have all the experience,
You will know what to do!
Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 10:17 AM UTC
Fable XV, Livre V.
« Je préfère un bon cœur à tout l'esprit du monde,
Et d'amis à deux pieds je me passe fort bien, »
Disait certain monsieur qui vit avec son chien
Dans une retraite profonde.
« Je n'ai pas d'autre ami que lui,
Humains ; et s'il tient aujourd'hui
La place qu'en mon cœur longtemps vous occupâtes
C'est qu'il ne m'est pas démontré
Que l'on ait aussi rencontré
L'ingratitude à quatre pattes. »
814
We sat around for hours
And it was like that days on days
Sipping wine, eating cheese, just enjoying life's malaise
Of course we were in France, your favorite country
I barely understood a word of what was said, but I still felt care free
Oh, you were my Golden Boy, my Prince, my Knight, my Friend
Oh, we had those good times, and of course they'd never end
I was young, I was scared, I saw what I wanted to
I couldn't bare to face what I knew would come soon
Back in New York we married, had a wedding, such a big party
We invited all our friends, such a big company
I lived through that, feeling like a stranger in my life
Even that big show is not what I like
You promised me your everlasting love, your devotion and your means
Sure, you looked like you had a lot, but things are not always what they seem
I had to learn the hard way, coming back hearing "I could've told you so"
That hurt, it was the truth, something even I know
I left you, standing there, a half a world away
In Israel, you gave me a shallow hug and you didn't stay
That's the last I ever saw of you
Walking down those stairs
Twelve years of love
Like you didn't care
That was eight years ago
People say, get over it, you need a life
After all, you've moved on, I read it in the New York Times
You must have had twenty girlfriends, and few more besides, and then lucky you, you met your future wife
And me? I come home still today,
and notice how happy I am that there's no one to ruin my day
No one to insult me, no one to call me sick
No one to blame me for his problems which can't be beat back with a stick
I still tense up, walking to my door
I still walk in, waiting for the sore
The projected pain, the insolence, the sickening ingratitude,
I sure know how to pick'em, you were quite a dude
So I'm still alone today, not ready to go
Still scared and scarred, but there's one thing I know
Someday I'll be healed
Someday I'll walk out that door
I'll hold my fear, yes, but it will not haunt me anymore
And then I'll know, you didn't win, because this is what you wanted of me
To be alone, to be afraid, anyone can see
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 5:07 PM UTC
I have learnt the pain
of too much tenderness,
of ingratitude, of impatience.
The pain that comes when you can't identify
the material of the casket,
you kept a gifted heart in.
I though it was love,
that preserved your misshapen, scarred *****
But was it sympathy, inlaid with gratitude,
For three words uttered (though falsely)?
But I returned yours unharmed, when you requested it.
No gashes from harsh words
only salve, from caring hands- though the wound's wouldn't heal.
I don't know what you kept my heart in.
A bag of lust, tied with pride?
Cheaply made, so when it tore,
you sent my heart back, raw, unprotected.
At least I left you with sympathy.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 7:06 PM UTC
Friends for a .....day
Lovers for a......night
.
Ain't it so ?
(What is your name
Again?)
--
--
I remember.....(?)
-
(I can't remember what )
.
Gotta lotta important things on my mind
.
(I can't remember what)
--
I hope we had a very good time
-
I really do though I'm not sure why
----
----
Little child
In the rain
.
I see!
--
So incourteously
Death invades Life
We yield!
We must be
"Out of our minds!")
The child
Calls out in vain
.
Such ingratitude
Before the gods
.
Such indecency
Such cruelty
Indifference...................
.........morbidity
----
Friends for a........day
Lovers for a night
--
I just never cared
To ask you your name
--
If you told me now
What would it matter
Friends ---lovers
What does it mean?
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
Ô mon Dieu, vous m'avez blessé d'amour
Et la blessure est encore vibrante,
Ô mon Dieu, vous m'avez blessé d'amour.
Ô mon Dieu, votre crainte m'a frappé
Et la brûlure est encor là qui tonne,
Ô mon Dieu, votre crainte m'a frappé.
Ô mon Dieu, j'ai connu que tout est vil
Et votre gloire en moi s'est installée,
Ô mon Dieu, j'ai connu que tout est vil.
Noyez mon âme aux flots de votre Vin,
Fondez ma vie au Pain de votre table,
Noyez mon âme aux flots de votre Vin.
Voici mon sang que je n'ai pas versé,
Voici ma chair indigne de souffrance,
Voici mon sang que je n'ai pas versé.
Voici mon front qui n'a pu que rougir,
Pour l'escabeau de vos pieds adorables,
Voici mon front qui n'a pu que rougir.
Voici mes mains qui n'ont pas travaillé,
Pour les charbons ardents et l'encens rare,
Voici mes mains qui n'ont pas travaillé.
Voici mon coeur qui n'a battu qu'en vain,
Pour palpiter aux ronces du Calvaire,
Voici mon coeur qui n'a battu qu'en vain.
Voici mes pieds, frivoles voyageurs,
Pour accourir au cri de votre grâce,
Voici mes pieds, frivoles voyageurs.
Voici ma voix, bruit maussade et menteur,
Pour les reproches de la Pénitence,
Voici ma voix, bruit maussade et menteur.
Voici mes yeux, luminaires d'erreur,
Pour être éteints aux pleurs de la prière,
Voici mes yeux, luminaires d'erreur.
Hélas ! Vous, Dieu d'offrande et de pardon,
Quel est le puits de mon ingratitude,
Hélas ! Vous, Dieu d'offrande et de pardon,
Dieu de terreur et Dieu de sainteté,
Hélas ! ce noir abîme de mon crime,
Dieu de terreur et Dieu de sainteté,
Vous, Dieu de paix, de joie et de bonheur,
Toutes mes peurs, toutes mes ignorances,
Vous, Dieu de paix, de joie et de bonheur,
Vous connaissez tout cela, tout cela,
Et que je suis plus pauvre que personne,
Vous connaissez tout cela, tout cela,
Mais ce que j'ai, mon Dieu, je vous le donne.
694
The sun does me not good today
Just as it did me no good the day before
As it glistens
On the crumpled beer cans
And bleaches the pavements,
Exposing
Every hairline crack
It shows no mercy;
Shining its torch
On the busy street corner
Everything looked better
In the rain
But as i hear
The man
Singing his song
And watch the puppy
Sunbathe
In the park
I know that i am,
Alone
In my ingratitude
And the sun will keep shining
The sun will keep setting
And keep rising
Yes it will keep to
With or without me
And with or without you
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 5:28 AM UTC