"inhumanly" poems
Paperworks and all the lessons
Sharpened my mind to behold
more and more of that useless knowledge
We would probably never use.
Tests are bad enough.
Marks at the corner teach
us nothing but jealousy.
The adults compare and
judge as much as they want to
And screamed and shouted
cried and muttered.
Exams are anything but better.
You got stuck in a room
Imprisoned
by the tension.
Suffocated
by the
hot headed determination
to strive for the stars.
Inhumanly high.
This isn't hollywood movies
Nothing like the literature essays
'how do we create tension'
the subjects
hold your fate
but you did once told yourself
'I have no life'
So what are we doing here?
Wasting our days
on something so terribly useless.
Insignificant lectures when we know
Accountants hated maths.
Doctors hated biology.
but they are who they are because of
good results.
They will realize
no teachers like marking
stupid homework.
They hate the red crosses
And so do we.
Exams doesn't teach us
how to be a good person.
how to cope with beasty bullies..
how to survive
on our own.
It doesn't show any real talents
nor your low (high) IQ
It's just a pain in the ****
You have to deal with before
you became wrinkled, grey
fuzzy and old.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 4:41 PM UTC
Those clear liquid drops of fluid that roll down your cheek when you cry. Crying defies the scientific explanation. Tears are only supposed to lubricate the eyes. When tear glands overproduce tears at the behest of emotion...I think it's our way of releasing those emotions; sadness, grief, desperation, anger, shock, happiness, etc. Emotions are weird things. As humans, we have hearts and brains. But emotion also defies scientific explanation. Hearts are only supposed to pump blood, not feel emotion. I guess, in a way, humans defy scientific explanation. We cry, we have feelings. But it's beautiful. Tears fill our eyes until they're blurry and we can hardly see. Tears roll down our cheeks, the sides of our noses, into our slightly open lips, down our chins, and even along our necks. When eyes are full of tears and they glint in the light, it's almost inhumanly beautiful. But tears can also be ugly things. When you cry, tears clog your throat, your nose. You have to breathe in gasping breaths and you can't see because your eyes are too blurry. All you feel is the damp marks your tears left. When you look in a mirror, your eyes are blotchy and your nose is bright red. Your eyeballs are glassy and water marks your skin. After a good long cry, you grow tired and fall asleep. When you wake, your face feels like it has been scrubbed raw, but really it's just the tear tracks. It isn't the tears that are ugly, but the crying. Humans are complex beings. Everything about them is also complex. Sometimes, those complex things are beautiful. Like...Teardrops.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 8:59 PM UTC
Raw flesh drenched in alcohol
Burning numbing till paralyzed, keeps me still
Power you have over my being, keeps me fearing
Your presence destroys me, shatters me
Feeling naked, inadequate when my eyes see
My reflection's negation in you
Cannot hide anything when you expose all of me
Wounded animal beaten without avail
Knowing, proprietor of my pain
You don't understand my whimper, wail?
My blood being diluted by the sweat of your laborious efforts
Precociously tactful, inhumanly strangling my will
Ever-becoming antithesis to facades, fears, farces in me
Facing scalpels and clamps to my insecurities, my tactics, my pride
Leaving me open not caring if I'll die from exposure
Caring only that you're exposing the real me
I-nvoluntarily l-acerated, o-n the v-erge of e-nding u-ndone
Somberly Always Unsettling Leaving me bare
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 10:50 AM UTC
The clothes on a perfectly sculpted mannequin
do not accentuate the garment's beauty.
Rather, it hollows it, makes it unwholesome
and outlines all the more clearly how empty it truly is
to the point where one forgets what one is looking at.
Like a vague pronoun.
The human mind, the decent soul, cannot and should
not be subjected to such a ********** and feels inhumanly
compelled to destroy the effect.
And that is why mannequins are so good for sales.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 3:05 PM UTC
Sophisticated creations created in sophistication
Humbly stumble your rocket ship upon us
Show us the ways of wisdom
The gears to greatness
Greetings from above…
Indescribably intuitive taking part of our tuition
Relaxing everybody with your percentages
Because everybody loves your mathematical mysteries mingling with minds mistaking us monitoring the minutes of our total misguidance
You guide us through that too…
Tactically tyrannical, democratically demonizing our demands
Demanding our demons
Because without the demons dictating our lusts as districts for us to be in
You are but a simple voice
Maybe so inhumanly loud and annoying
But incompetent
Powerless…that freaks you out…
Notorious nuzzles nurturing our children
Not so new of an idea
Because were used to getting
Tips of our rights smuggled through the windows you chose to open
Then smile and wave from up there
Because being like us is too mainstream
Becoming like us is an impossibility possible only when you become wood
Stiff wood
Moving around on shoulders
Standing in line on
The borders
Of dirt and human form
Following your followers with flowers on top of you facilitating your families fascinations that yes, youre gonna be alright down under
Flashback to the fudemental moments of your life
And you’ll realize
It’s when you killed the father
Suffocated the mother
Ripped the brother apart
And told the son…hey let me help you
But this is when you die…
If we all **** you in our minds youre dead
And only then…would “up there” be nothing but a shameful figure
Rather than a worshiped emblem of total **********
And only then…would we gain life…
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 6:05 PM UTC
I'd give anything to read how an author describes me.
An author writes his characters as a wonder, a shining beacon of light, almost inhuman.
Really these characters - brave, smart, kind - are just like us.
Just like me.
So I want to know:
Am I brave?
Am I kind?
Am I smart?
Am I passive or active?
Am I intriguing or impressive?
Inspiring or insightful?
Amazing or attractive?
Strong or beautiful?
You know all these words.
You read all these words.
How an author writes his characters
With adjectives that seem inhumanly possible to describe anyone on this earth
Especially yourself.
But they could be used to describe you
And you just don't know it
That's why I'd give anything to read an author's description of me.
I need to know.
What adjectives paint the picture of me?
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 12:51 AM UTC
I sit here alone with this craving for him.
A thirst that can not be quenched.
My whole body aches, but my heart really explodes.
I'm losing my breath and the whole world is about to see how weak, incomplete, vulnerable and lost I truly am as a single functioning unit.
The "other half" that you all claim to meet does not have definition when not one bond on Earth compared to this sacred PASSION for each other we both shared.
No one has it. No one knows it. It is not even fair to talk about due to its unrelatable nature.
It is not something we should toss away.
I was stupid, I lied. I was everything inhumanly.
Most of all I lost you. And I let you lose something simply beautiful. I ruined it for you and I am sorry, SO SORRY, and I cry for you, and for me. I love you, I love you, I ******* LOVE YOU, and I'll do anything to be with you. I will **** for it. **** for you. Please, please, PLEASE!!!
I don't want to cry anymore,
I can't be without you anymore.
Here I go.
Jul 21, 2011
Jul 21, 2011 at 9:42 AM UTC
"Humpty Dumpty was a metaphor, I think."
"What?"
"For the human psyche."
This man's skin was inhumanly pale and dusty.
He looked sick -
like he was carrying something heavy no one else could see.
"Think about it. An egg, beautiful in it's frailty."
"Teetering on a wall, ever in danger of the fall that will break him."
His eyes were lost in the thought. Cloudy.
Everything about this man made my bones want to run away
"and all the king's horses..."
He whispered. A calmness that stabbed like an icepick.
"and all the king's horses..."
Sep 26, 2011
Sep 26, 2011 at 11:50 PM UTC
you laugh long and loud
tell me anger is uncalled for
tell me "it's a compliment"
i want to tell you this:
my ancestors killed thousands
conquered nations
burned kings alive
yet somehow you think
that i can't do the same
maybe i'd just like to know
what makes you human
when you've torn me down
so inhumanly
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 10:00 AM UTC
I lye in the deep dark shadows, of the hidden back alleys,
Scarred by the silence, of the cold darkness.
No bright lights along the perilous path, to guide you safely,
Past familiar places, you thought were harmless.
Late hours of the cold night, I sit and wait,
For my weary prey, to fall softly into my hands.
Comfort you shall not find, nor ease,
But simply what has been planned.
Unspoken words, find their means,
So many pleasures forbidden, like crimes.
Inhumanly acts committed, upon souls,
Souls I will soon claim to be mine.
Deceptive images, portrayed amongst innocent minds,
Muffled screams, corrupt the feeling of serenity.
As I creep into your thoughts, spreading my blackness,
You remain still, with the feeling of insecurity.
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 9:27 PM UTC
I watched as your back
arched inhumanly in every possible way,
your spine seemed to be made out of gum
yet your body was so tense,
I touched you and felt the same exact way
I felt when I hit the cold and hard surface of ice rink
for the very first time
except
your body was burning hot,
and your face was so pale
and so shiny from the sweat
you looked like a most morbid porcelain doll
I've ever seen
Each second I anticipated for your head
to start turning in full circles
and I so badly wanted to press a crucifix
against your skin and to exorcise you,
to free you from embraces of the mightiest,
but the only cross you ever believed in
and feared
was the shining green cross of the pharmacy
There were times when your pills made you feel heavenly,
yet
I was eternally put through hell
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 3:01 PM UTC
She stood outside the rusted metal door.
She knocked once, but there was no answer
There would be no answer
Everyone had long since left to the other world.
I walked slowly towards her
She took a last draw from her cigarette
and ground it beneath her foot.
I wonder what her bare feet will look like
Of course there was all time for that
I will kiss every toe and burn the memory in my mind.
She jumped when I laid a gentle hand upon her shoulder.
Her eyes measured me warily
Ah,
those dark brown eyes,
almost black,
so inhumanly beautiful.
I will kiss each one
and feel the caress
of each soft eyelash against my skin.
Her panicked fear set within me a flame
and all I can see now was her,
her hair,
her eyes,
her supple mouth
that formed a perfect cupid’s bow,
a bow I wanted to open,
stretch,
kiss and caress.
I pulled her to me.
I laid my lips atop hers
amidst her struggle to get away,
but my grip was like iron.
I tasted the cigarette on her tongue.
Our chests touched
and I could feel the flutter of her heart
as she laid her palms against my chest
trying to separate us.
The clink of teeth on teeth resounded
in my ears
and against the night air
void of all sound.
She screamed,
a sound that I fully expected,
the delicate pitch making me rush
in a bought of impatience
to open the door
that I pulled the metal from its hinges.
I pulled her inside towards the stairs,
towards our room.
She raged against me.
Pulling and pushing,
trying desperately to flee,
but it was too late.
I would not let her leave me.
Never.
Apr 9, 2011
Apr 9, 2011 at 7:27 AM UTC
Fill every crack in my body with cement and wine
Sober me up with stale breath and cold finger tips
Sting my skin with the fire of your words
Make my insides spin when I think of our last moment together
I am breathless but yet full of energy
I am running but my feet haven't left the ground
I am spinning without becoming dizzy
I am without reason
Something you always taught me
Take my silence and turn it into a poem
Something that can be spoken to the heavens
Of higher power to be spewed upon them in a way that is inhumanly
I'll see you at the viewing
I'll be in black
You'll be in your best dress
It was so brief
Not even my eyes could've have caught it
Once there now gone
I am vain
I am emotional
I am king
I feel every morsel of my body tense up
I'm looking at your headstone
Counting the bouquets of dead flowers
You were my rain and shine
You were divine
I am the sign
Saying you're going the wrong way
Turn back now
I am crippled from the thought
I have a headache and this room feels smoky
There's strangers in every dark corner
You always told me not to be in these situations
You disappeared and I fell into the darkness
I am painless I am stainless
Many have tried painting there words into my skin but it's all melted away shortly after
The only thing that ever stayed with me was something you branded into my arm last summer
"I love you. I miss you"
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 9:55 PM UTC
Writing is, as most hobbies are, an art when taken seriously. Perfect practice makes perfect works. Don't just write a poem or a blurb...
Wrap the vines around the ankles, pull apart the pelvis until it cracks like a pistachio. Take the loosened intestines and wring them out quickly. Lob the liver high in the air and smack it away on its way back down. Creep up the exposed vertebrate as you fish through the guts and flesh. Watch as the skin looses color, and emotion fades with last breath. Itch your fingers through the fluids, crack apart the spine. Work to the nook of the back, where hands fit snugly in hugs before. Punch holes with your nails, and tickle the lungs from asunder with your teeth. Bite and claw through the chest like a bullet through a milk jug. Feel the blood run cold now, for you've been at this for a while. Push the shoulder bones out of place, since they need not be there anymore. Feel the bone grind and pop, smooth without resistance. Watch the arms flop lifelessly and inhumanly away from what was once a body. Creep up the esophagus like a bad acid, tearing and destroying. Reach the mouth, and cut the tongue. Lob it too with the liver. Break teeth, and crack cheekbones. Finally, wriggle into the skull, wrapping around the brain, and squeezing until it falls through your hands like raw beef from the fresh chopped cattle.
Don't just write. Be wretchedly beautiful.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 11:49 PM UTC
License to die,
Contract to ****
That was the deal,
Buried my heart,
Wore a mask
And blood spills
Inhumanly human,
Tears floods my heart,
Yet, I stand head high
Even with death
Staring into my eyes
Chanting,
No guts!
No glory!
For I am a lethal weapon
And no one dies twice!
As I leave my body
I remain loyal
To Alfa,
Died a Romeo for my country,
Served as Mike,
Till we meet in Yankee,
Even in afterlife my symbol is peace
But my loyalty belongs
To the
Alfa Romeo Mike Yankee.
©Nalli
Jun 26, 2020
Jun 26, 2020 at 8:31 AM UTC
It's how the moon injects colors into me,
into my old dying mind
Its blue, red, and green in my plasma
they sail and travel through my veins
Remarkable stars, they send my lost soul home
Home, that is my mortal frame,
home that is bound to earth
And so sound I laid
That I can finally get a grip
Sometimes the cloud comes too
Their cotton-like apparition
soft to the touch, overly-sensitive,
and inhumanly empathetic,
pouring down a rain
For it cried
So I don't have to cry alone
The night sky helps,
by wrapping me within its blanket of darkness,
lulling me to sleep to the song of the wolves,
blowing winds that rock the greens ever so gentle,
and therefore I know, when light has gone,
and the night has come,
I'm alive once more
Dec 1, 2020
Dec 1, 2020 at 12:39 AM UTC
i was going to try to write a poem
but i fail when i try to do anything
i fail when i try to do nothing
i fail
failure is relative
who taught me this warped definition
taught me a fake identity
tried to make me impossibly inhumanly
errorless?
why is it that i cry?
why is it that anybody would
WISH to die?
WHY why why why are there so many
questions ringing in my head,
and all of yours too
(I recognize the agony
just like inside of me)
Why why why
why is it that I cry?
I force my anger into mirrors
and breaking them, almost
as easily as breaking people,
but it doesn't take away
anything.
The thing that infuriates me even more
is pretending
it doesn't
exist.
And I cry.
Dec 21, 2010
Dec 21, 2010 at 11:36 PM UTC
Kindred (II)
by Michael R. Burch
Rise, pale disastrous moon!
What is love, but a heightened effect
of time, light and distance?
Did you burn once,
before you became
so remote, so detached,
so coldly, inhumanly lustrous,
before you were able to assume
the very pallor of love itself?
What is the dawn now, to you or to me?
We are as one,
out of favor with the sun.
We would exhume
the white corpse of love
for a last dance,
and yet we will not.
We will let her be,
let her abide,
for she is nothing now,
to you
or to me.
Published by Songs of Innocence. Keywords/Tags: moon, pale, disastrous, remote, detached, cold, inhuman, lustrous, pallor, love, itself, white, corpse
Apr 6, 2020
Apr 6, 2020 at 4:37 AM UTC
******
I think it’s time for another ****
Soon though, soon I would confront him,
and he would not fare as well as my first.
Though indeed he would be different from the others,
someone new,
or maybe like my first
in his own way.
I’m feeling reminiscent. I’m feeling lonely for fear.
She stood outside the rusted metal door.
She knocked once,
but there was no answer.
There would be no answer.
Everyone had long since left to the other world.
I walked slowly towards her.
She took a last draw from her cigarette
and ground it beneath her foot.
I wonder what her bare feet will look like.
Of course there was all time for that.
I will kiss every toe
and burn the memory in my mind.
She jumped when I laid a gentle hand upon her shoulder.
Her eyes measured me warily.
Ah,
those dark brown eyes,
almost black,
so inhumanly beautiful.
I will kiss each one
and feel the caress of each soft eyelash against my skin.
Her panicked fear set within me a flame
and all I can see now was her,
her hair...her eyes...her supple mouth that formed a perfect cupid’s bow,
a bow I wanted to open,
stretch, kiss and caress.
I pulled her to me.
I laid my lips atop hers amidst her struggle to get away,
but my grip was like iron.
I tasted the cigarette on her tongue.
Our chests touched
and I could feel the flutter of her heart
as she laid her palms against my chest trying to separate us.
The clink of teeth on teeth resounded loudly in my ears
and against the night air void of all sound.
She screamed,
a sound that I fully expected,
the delicate pitch
making me rush in a bought of impatience
to open the door that I pulled the metal from its hinges.
I pulled her inside towards the stairs, towards our room.
She raged against me.
Pulling and pushing,
trying desperately to flee, but it was too late.
I would not let her leave me. Never.
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 11:32 AM UTC
Copper walls insulated the cold heart of gold,
with limbs of steel extending out,
touching the comparably icy concrete floor.
The perfectly symmetrical skull of bronze contained
an inhumanly small encephalon of cobalt,
packed with scarlet wires and a
near invisible flashing microchip.
Alone in the sterile room,
the infantile Adam,
now standing for the first time,
observed his surroundings as he further
extended out his limbs – taking his first steps.
Nov 27, 2020
Nov 27, 2020 at 5:20 PM UTC
I left you
seven hundred miles ago
with a note that read,
**I'm done with this ****
you should have known
when you woke up upon sheets
that were soaked with our final weeks, and you realised, that you woke alone, it wasn't just a joke,
that one thing should have made you know,
seven hundred miles later,
your bare *** is alone...
you should have known
and now I'm down the highway
seven hundred miles away
from you
checking out the sunset
wondering if you
see it
as blue as I do
are you seeing the splintering
and fracturing of the lightening
that splits between clouds
of such a perfect grey?
Do you even remember that day?
I do!
you should have known
how the ventricles in your heart
clip clop at such a slow pace
how the neurones that fire
within your brain
stitch together memories
so laconically
you should have known
that seven hundred miles
down the road
I was going to be more open
More free to be me
Less inclined to practice
this inhumanly farce
Seven hundred miles ago
You should have known
It was never going to last
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 2:46 AM UTC
In a moment, all had changed
We sat, as many might
For dinner, late
Rolls and peas, plus a bit of meat
Once a week, we fared better than many
It came like a wave, rolling
From the east, if facing east
I know for at my table, I looked north
But felt the change, weary my bones
I saw my wife, her eyes blue
Deeply light blue, almost gray
I saw her **** eyes changed green
Struggled, she breathed
Then the wave, took one after another
I felt it pass, emotions tumbling at once
She seen something, hidden
Miles away, blocked from sight
From behind stone walls, as we prayed
Then, the ****
She howled, we all whimpered
For the madness, overwhelmed
Contagious, it spread
I heard it first, bringing me back
From neighbors, less distant and west
Snapping me back, to see her
Gnashing, breaking her teeth
Pulling and ripping, hair
She flailed, grasping a fork
Stabbing our children, one to another
Before I could move, inhumanly fast
As they cowered, deep in rising fear
Not of her, but of the emotions rippling
From distant and far, but always east
I struggled, when she came at me
Flinging my arm up, warding her off
My knife came up, involunteerily
Then it dimmed, although
Some great beast, gathered it's rage
In some great birth, then awareness
It pulsed, lower now
Like humming, out of mind
Letting us know, a god now strode
We could feel it, where it looked
It's attention, driven us mad
And now, we live in its shadow
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 12:01 PM UTC
These identities we create
And forge upon others
Do we really hold a right
To decide
About the patterns of behaviors and dispositions
Or the appropriate demeanors and preferences for others
Why do we crave
to change the inherent tendencies
Or the intrinsic inclinations of some individuals
That differs from our own
And briskly label them as 'unusual'
Why does it feels so challenging
To add a few more words in our vocabulary
Rather than sweeping them all in a category
Hiding It from others
Talking about them only in hushed whispers
Why do we deem
their emotions as inappropriate
Instill fear in them
For feeling a certain way
Forgetting that
They are a beautiful creation of God
Just like us
Made to blend homogeneously
Not plucked inhumanly
Out of a heterogeneous population
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 5:23 AM UTC
Look how far we've come along
When talking is substituted
With new found technology
When the animals who feed us
Are slaughtered inhumanly
For a cheap source of food
When the forest that host
The last animals alive
Are being cut down
When the oil that is made
Through thousands of years
Are ****** dry in a matter of days
When morals no longer come into play
And we turn on each other
For a couple of bills
When every one is judged
By the place they grew up
As if they had a choice
When moms and dad's
No longer have a living
Because they've been fired
And forced out of their homes
When we send out troops
And **** our men
So they can fight over
What's not even ours
When books are no longer read
And poems no longer recited
Because kids these days
Do not appreciate intelligence
When the city is so busy
Beauty is overlooked
And when smiles are no longer smiled
And laughs no longer laughed
Because kids are growing up to fast
Look how far we've come along
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 11:47 PM UTC