"irrelevancy" poems
Irrelevancy is the only word with a clear definition
Considering nowhere in the dictionary is no a synonym for yes.
Your eyes pry at the binding of my thesaurus.
By the time the letters that form the words that compose such literature become coherent;
I find myself blindly illiterate.
Ungrammatically correct.
How persuasive is the introduction of negativity if the conclusion is positively wet.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 4:35 PM UTC
we become accustomed to the brainwashed idea of what living is,
working more hours than time we spend with those we love,
to come home empty-handed with a sour face.
happiness is thought to be a piece of paper
that gets you places and things.
but is that illusion of materialism true to rid of desolation?
solace lies within
and contentment takes time.
let not our distraction of mortality wave us from seeing the good,
but our dualism let us see the meaningless of every day.
our moments are fleeting,
and will one day be forgotten.
what we smiled for, cried for, and died for,
will one day lose its meaning.
is this pessimism?
or is it truth?
is it objective thinking,
refusing to believe that
we are anything substantial?
one day they will laugh at our irrelevancy.
for people come and go,
and what is today,
will one day be in ruins.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 9:26 AM UTC
Civilizations come and go,
and what is an empire
will one day be ruins.
Our moments are fleeting,
and will one day be forgotten.
What we fought for,
bled for, died for,
will one day lose all meaning
Future societies and new civilizations
will one day laugh at our absurd efforts.
They will ask,
where it all led?
From dust,
back to dust.
Is this pessimism?
Or is it truth?
Is it objective thinking,
refusing to believe that
we are anything substantial?
America, England, China,
one day will fall and be counted among the ranks of
Babylon, Petra, Atlantis.
So far lost, mating with myth,
losing all truth.
One day they will laugh at our irrelevancy.
For civilizations come and go,
and what is an empire
will one day be ruins.
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 2:13 PM UTC
Damask robes on the severed road, as Severin sings the boot precociously
Furs and spurs are the roots of inevitable depression, the rain in the gutter
Flows like so many streams to the town of your birth
See that scar and revel in it, for the clock that tocks is dying so eloquently
And here, I shall hold your hand and convey irrelevancy
These days seem so long
Words leave a vapid hole in my soul
Are you reading this closely,
Meaningless as it seems
Each poem like a crack of the whip, my back scarred and bloodied
Each person, in a line, taking the time to abuse my mind
and today I am freed from the ties that... keep me safe
But still bound by the ******* of a million people
Each one suffers, and I lay awake in the evening damp
Listening, still listening, to the cries of the camp
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 8:07 AM UTC
the irrelevancy of this day
blots the Sun
with the suffocating light of indifference
the urge to scream is often there
just below that inane giggle
that maniacal grin
that ever recurring crystalline voice
whispering from the lips of a fading thought
'we are all undeniably
irrevocably
lost'
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 10:07 PM UTC
If silence were to overwhelm in quiet noise
Noise to overwhelm in loud silence
We would.....would we?
Resume to mediocrity
Squander in and out of the
Hum drum notion
A shallow scale of beige
Quick quicksand, slow quick quick slow pace
To a death by chocolate wrapped up in a silver
Game plan of beige instructions
You told me this before signing irrelevancy into
The first line
Out of the way to straightforward
Mental monotony......you wrote
We walked waywardly
Shells scrambled underfoot
To find contrast amiss
You didn't talk
Of wandering off course, the
Art of expression took
Our lullaby
We read the recipe for cement, cooked on
High alert
Locked one another in the eye....
beadily
Chose safely, colours of beige
Walled......wall to wall.
Behind the shadowed brickwork
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
avoiding: love.
or the pains of being in love
when there's indecision,
when I needed there not to be,
when it was coming from both ends.
my tears were like
stepping stones
(a path you've avoided:
because it hurts too much
to feel, or it's easier to pretend
like those feelings
don't exist).
the fear and hesitation
of letting someone else
see
the steps you've taken,
and not
wanting to explain
how they led you to where you are
because it's hard to tell the truth
when you've been lying:
to everyone.
Without realizing it
half of the time,
and then the other half
I just lay in bed worrying about it,
or what other people think.
The thoughts led me to the point
where I couldn't leave my house,
or my room, or my bed.
The depression made me sick
and I didn't know how to deal with it
in any other way than letting it consume,
[like always]
because I was so obsessed with feeling
as much as I could, as intensely as possible.
I just didn't realize how self-destructive it was
because of the people I surrounded myself with
and the people that I wanted to, but didn't.
New Years: I decided not to make any resolutions.
Commitment still isn't my strong point, but I'm working on it.
I didn't treat those days like they were important,
and they weren't:
at the time.
I sought irrelevancy,
and silence,
and thought
and lack: of feeling, of thought, of silence.
Everything in my mind soon became contradiction
and it didn't take long for me to turn into the person
I feared most to become,
and even after I destroyed the image of it all,
it still existed in memory.
back to relevancy.
It's not about the timing.
It's all about the timing.
it's the situation:
the lack of feeling?
the lack of wanting.
the lack of empathy?
the lack of interest.
the lack of mystery?
the lack of understanding.
want is no way to love.
*** is no way to love.
drugs are no way to escape
(they just made me crazy)
crazy?
with thoughts of you,
with trying to forget about you
with trying to please everyone
with... everything.
I was afraid, so I tried my hand at avoiding:
conversation.
(there was too much hurt coming from my end
to yours. I couldn't move on, because I loved you,
but I couldn't love you, because I couldn't love myself,
[or anyone else]. The idea of love grew too big,
[in my mind] [in my pen] [in my journal] [in my life]
[the air around us] [the color of your eyes] [in memory]
[in the amount of time spent worrying about the possibilities
of things that could go wrong]).
confrontation.
(The only way I knew how to say sorry was to hold you,
and holding can mean too many different things and physical
translation has never been my strong point).
truth.
(with lies)
(with truth)
(with secrets)
(with whatever seemed to work at the time).
making changes
instead of planning changes.
I've said sorry too many times for the wrong reasons,
and not enough for the right ones.
I'm just glad to be myself again.
Apr 22, 2011
Apr 22, 2011 at 12:14 PM UTC
Like a dormant volcano, it sits--
Not quite dead
But void of its once endless vitality
Passion bows to apathy
The depth and the vastness remain,
Its sheer mass still impressive
But like an ancient legend from centuries past,
It sits--cold and stiff and tired,
Drowning in a sea of dust and irrelevancy
What is death
But fuel without flame?
Dormant is not dead
Patient is the beast who slumbers through winter
As bitter and lonely as it may be--
Though he cannot be certain
He knows if he can endure the winter,
He just may be rewarded with spring
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 2:55 AM UTC
When someone says "I love you"
I struggle to believe it, regardless of sincerity
A year ago I should've shoved a rifle down your throat
and shot the insanity out of your stomach
I would have covered a bullet in my lipstick
and left it in your skull,
You always thought I couldn't get into your head.
Love's not a weapon
and I'd never use it as one like you did
but hate is, and I hang my loathing for you
in an expensive frame on the wall
I'm proud to display your irrelevancy and sociopathic tendencies like an art gallery
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
With all honesty, I can't believe this is your real life
You do nothing yet want so much out of life
Every step you take it's being proved that you won't amount to anything
And
I refuse to help and contribute to your negative attitude and ways
The irrelevancy in your life just cracks me up
Because
As the time passed by your face begin to flood with sickening tattoos
Your stuck in a daze wondering why and how your life has passed you by
With the first mark your purity was lost and your clarification on life was adjusted
Because I laughed from the jealous looks and the words "You think your better"
And In all actuality I'm not
I just decided not to waste my time and its obvious that I've outgrown you
But you'll be ok...... I think.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 10:48 PM UTC
The moon.
I feel as if it’s the pupil to our eye the sky, showing to us a different world, a world that shares the same pupil looking back through it at us.
I look deep into it, no, through it,
Reaching for another soul,
Another soul looking for me,
For if I am looking, then they are looking.
I think of the other, looking though the same moon,
Down upon all of us, upon you, upon me.
Them too wondering the same question, are they there?
I can feel the answer,
I feel him looking back down upon me
And he feels me searching for him. Even though I am the one who is lost.
Without seeing,
Without hearing,
He answers my questions, and answers questions I knew not of.
I feel everything that man has once wondered,
And I see there irrelevancy.
All my worries are taken up through this glowing pupil in the sky and tossed into nowhere.
Not for me, not for him, not for her, not for it all.
For a burden on me is a burden on him, her, and all.
For the burdens of men blind our view to the great eye. The great truth. The one relevance.
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 10:25 PM UTC
The past has such heavy weight
like sunken ships
and ancient cement barricades,
so permanent
even in their irrelevancy.
Mar 29, 2010
Mar 29, 2010 at 6:54 AM UTC
there's something about the idea of sitting down with him and a glass of red wine that he cherishes so much that really appeals to you, something about listening to call it fate call it karma and joking about the irrelevancy of individual objects in this mass world that makes you want to message him immediately
the truth is, you need him because you need someone to save you when you have realised at about 3 am on your way to see him this morning that you are no longer a person to rely on to be there for you emotionally - you're your own bad influence, you're your own a.m. thoughts and bad decisions
the truth is, you wish you were still drunk enough to tell him that he should date you instead; you wish you were drunk enough to kiss him, drunk enough to play with his tie when he kept fidgeting with it, drunk enough to tell him that he's full of **** and you love it
you wish you were sober enough to forget about everything that has happened and get off that feeling knowing somebody told you that you'd be in their head, because your situations have never been perfect and this hurricane is making its way towards your heart faster than you anticipated and this time you don't want to drown in the raindrops of lost desire and empty words
there's something there, something about the two silver rings, one on each hand; something about the way his hair slicks back, about how he wears his glasses and how excited he gets to show you what he can play on piano; there's something there about the touch, about the electrifying feeling of holding his tired hands, and about the way you can tease him and he still takes it, about the way he assumes things but you do too and then you both admit your faults, about the way he tells you to smile more because a smile suits you and that thinking too much can be a serial killer
there's something there, but it's too far away to be understood - too far away to be felt, too far away to be loved
your drunken mind assumes it's utopia, but your sober mind concludes it's hell
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 7:06 PM UTC
the man come
we slave the world into irrelevancy
we buy and sell
buy and ****
discard
replace
and die in alleyways
but we are
good
--
--
new & improved
we
are recycled demons
pretending to be saints
down the river !
we go !
recently resold
slaves
irrelevantly creating
love poems and stories
of massively tolerated
lonliness
and...
...pain
Oct 12, 2010
Oct 12, 2010 at 1:25 PM UTC
in the waning days of my sojourn
when the Sun will set quicker than I remember
when I'll wish I'd taken advantage of a pain free body
and walked a bit longer in those fields of gold
searched my dreams for meaning
taken a few extra moments to absorb
the laughter of my children when they were mere toddlers
the mindset falls into one of waiting
as we drift off into the natural state of irrelevancy
like the favorite stuffed bear that is still loved
but has served its purpose
watching the world spin by upon a shelf
next to a copy of Tom Sawyer
I'd give all my remaining days
to re-live one of those fading memories
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 10:15 AM UTC
A jaded history haunts unconsciously.
Fragmented regrets surface to this state of mind,
unhealthily.
But then you overcome me.
you blow my balloon up with relentless joy till it pops
and I can’t even function.
The wetness refuses to halt its rage against my heart’s window.
Though, this is irrelevancy.
My state of faith, so sealed as an envelope.
~
I am so sealed as an envelope.
With the good will in my heart, encompassing,
and the good name on my tongue, spreading
I can do no wrong.
You set the seal there.
You sent it here.
The envelope contains this undeniable love.
But it is not restrained.
No.
It permeates it, through and through
till the oil is spread all about the table,
and drips off the sides, anointing.
The seal sets in the Spirit.
I can do no wrong.
I am not under the law, bound by shackles,
but rather your agape
makes it bubble.
~
The story turns the dial.
The resonance heats the burner.
And your love boils.
The humble ***
who attempts to brag in her shininess,
is but a homely utensil.
Though *** need you not be perfect.
There are none now without dents.
They are still usable, still loved.
You see, when the water boils, the metal melts.
In another realm, it is liquid.
Chunks of dirt, bits of dust
swim up to breathe.
And breathe they will,
but it will be their last breath,
at the hand of the sweaty hand,
at the hand of the author.
~
For this story to unfold,
to send the fragments to the ocean floor,
to inflate the balloon,
the ***
acknowledges its dents,
knows the seal is the wormhole to the forge,
submits to the blacksmith, and
doesn't refuse the heat.
And then the *** so pure
becomes one with the oil, seal, and blacksmith.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 3:11 PM UTC
Whether I am on the right side of history
Is a fantasy and an irrelevancy -
History had better be on the right side of me
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 4:15 PM UTC
I feel like sleeping
I feel like sleep; tired and sick
bemoaning conversations, groans turned into rants
screaming sycophantic nuances like flies stuck to ****
gone on counting, willing things to be out of sheer desperation
I cant recall when last I fell to the ground alone
dissonance comes and goes like fire slows the defying cold shoulders
but frost burn still hurts immensely
negligence desensitizing everything I touch
if dreams are the last escape from what is real
then what is real anymore?
when I close my eyes its all the same
tears still soak the pillow when I am the only mistake
irrelevancy is all there is anymore
I feel like sleeping
but when I get there, I hope I never awake
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 6:26 PM UTC
I don’t want to feel!
I’m fearing the changes in life that are inevitable.
I want to be brave with a nonchalant shrug and a smile on my face.
I don’t want to be drowned in a river of irrelevancy-
That may be only apparent to me in my thought’s captivity.
I want to be content with what I have- feeling no need to compete.
I don’t want to let life’s struggles drag and flail me as they see fit.
Becoming someone unrecognizable to myself.
I want to have strength to show myself that I can be tough.
But nights like these where silent tears roll~
I’m frozen in the same spot as life’s failure tease without mercy or control.
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 4:07 AM UTC
Adult Alternative Poem
not for the young, reserved just for the young, just at heart,
your skin, face, crinkled, for smiling is you resting face positivity,
you daily existence free of punctuation, no separation,
your body tilted, falling forward, only direction the chest understands
your words sewn on tapestry of silence, yet voices never stilled,
fingertips spark on command when touch is earnest, casual, fierce,
Bublé, Sting, Daughtry, Allison and Adele, ****** tears commingling,
read her your love poetry & her chest breathing, your oxygen tube
easy to be an adult when the alternatives are all
proximity discoverable, nearness constant, distance an irrelevancy,
age just another construct and love, an ageless deconstruction+
unfinished reconstruction, adult alternative channel, our only playlist
Dec 23, 2019
Dec 23, 2019 at 9:28 AM UTC
snip me into strips.
re-arrange my lines and
diction into one of your
manic-pixie-found-poems.
black out the most important
parts of me with messy sharpie
and paste me onto some photo,
whose irrelevancy adds to the
romantic air you were trying
to achieve.
then read me to glassy-eyed
existentialists looking for life-meaning,
and display me on your wall
affixed with haphazard masking tape.
love me like this.
turn me into a forgotten love poem.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
Someday when the birds learn how to mock our cries of scrutiny
You will gravitate away from the floor that is magnitized with your mistakes
Will you change your polar relevancy and float away in such a manner that you can hear the birds screech about trivial actions that somehow became your reputation.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
I need to practice the art
Of letting go irrelevancy
My mind is overthinking my past
Overprocessing my future
I'm keeping myself in a constant loop
And getting absolutely nothing good from it
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 9:54 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
I can't breath
too close to me
beauty it hurts
it hurls the oxygen
I can't breath
too close to me
everything I'll never be
ice cold babe
devour the weak
you are made of stars
I am made of dust
irrelevancy
suffocating
lock the door
in the morning I'll freeze
CryoBabes don't talk
to Povys like me
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 6:19 PM UTC