"irresponsibility" poems
They walk aloof among us
Three percent of the population
They reluctantly dine with us
Quietly, stifling their frustration
They don't look back as you pass
They don't want your conversation
Empathy is just an alien concept
They focus only on self preservation
But here's where it gets strange
We worship them with huge salaries
We beg them to lead us the way
We ignore their blatant deceptiveness
We hand them our hard earned pay
If they say bail out the banksters
Or send your kids to a dubious war
We offer them our kids and cash
Knowing that they will ask for more
Stranger still
Our history has been sculpted by them
We raise bronze statues proudly in their honor
Through our plain idleness and cowardice
They can reduce this planet to a nuclear goner
"How did this madness occur?" We question
Why do psychos run banks and governments
Checking world history offers a suggestion
To why we (the population) are slaves for rent
We are simply afraid of those
That successfully navigate life
With reckless irresponsibility
Unchallenged by others strife
It is those destructive characters
We plead to take political risks
In return for obedience and cash
To buy more power and obelisks
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 3:04 PM UTC
Youth.
It's that culture that people blame.
Youth.
It's that unit that causes the most pain.
At least to the adults.
They need some to blame.
Visualize that the skip adults mistakes.
By going by the age of the group.
Adults, constantly on the news more than youth.
They just don't report that truth.
Youth.
Too much time upon their hands.
Least according to the law enforcement.
But crime is seen more created by those over twenty one.
Youth.
That group every adult has played apart of at one time.
Been accused of everything under the sun.
Youth rebellious.
Youth pregnancy.
Youth hatred.
Youth irresponsibility.
Youth at the center of various things.
According to those older.
But not any more wiser.
Youth.
It's hard been young.
When the innocent get group with everyone.
But those that lives according to common sense rules.
Know many negative comments isn't addressed to you.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
The dialogue,
The volume,
The content..
It gets better right?
The petty,
The put-downs,
Vocal *****
Too often why I'm up at night.
Egocentrism,
Carelessness,
And Irresponsibility.
Yet I'm the sewer rat not living up to my ability.
The toxic street withers me,
Too much debt to free,
I can predict the machines' actions almost constantly.
The happenings follow me,
What I see hollows me,
Will I ever emerge from this filth triumphantly?
It's the insanity I wake up to,
The vanity and the same stew.
Sometimes I wonder if this is what I have to go through.
It's grown ever-plain to see,
This isn't the way, that life should be,
But it's tossed onto the pile I've simply named "the pain in me."
No luminosity around to save selves,
Violent sound waves bounce off of every shelf.
Through these waters I have delved,
But no life-preserver,
No help.
I am unable to manipulate,
I'm just part of the tracks.
Desensitization's turned me from an alley cat,
To sewer rat,
Just by being exposed.
So I crawl through these tunnels with nothing but hope,
That there's a way I can go back..
Reverse the de-evolution I suppose,
And return to a world I thought I knew with humanity.
'Til then I scrape on living a life, transparently.
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 5:59 PM UTC
Contentment reigns in the freedom from restraint
In your radiant, creative light
Warmth rushes in as you achieve what you hope for
Upon this wondrous night
You have so cleverly withdrawn to fight another day
Disengaged and retained your hope
Turned the pages and the tide in your own favor
Along the way, you have learned to cope
Confusion once lead you to feel a powerlessness
A bitter sorrow for your past
Now you have learned to focus on the bottom line
Gaining a strength inside to last
Irresponsibility and indecision you have laid to rest
Along with frustration and inner strife
As you release the hold of all the gray skies
Shadowing the light in your life
Wonderful surges of vitality, wash throughout your soul
Heralding a new day to begin
You have found your inner spirits, truth and balance
The gray skies hold, has come, to an end
Aug 5, 2010
Aug 5, 2010 at 8:10 PM UTC
Into the back of any thoughts it simply had gone
those penetrating words Nuclear War!
Also spoken a nuclear winter that followed
not since nineteen ninety two.
Had they been uttered with such meaning
with it a real threat leaning!
Footage of Hiroshima seemed distant images
but many countries have the weapon!
A real peril is no longer mere speculation
each with their known instability!
Without morality to hold their actions back
they'd have no qualms but attack!
Tensions are running ever closer to danger levels
as the irresponsibility explodes!
Even a limited nuclear war could easily escalate
into billions of human deaths!
Obliterated from a once green fertile surface!
to an ash covered uninhabitable place!
Maybe the few could survive along with the cockroaches!
Is this man's inevitable fate?
The Foureyed Poet.
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 7:47 AM UTC
Growing up, a girl watches, learns,
The truths of boys and men—
so often unturned.
“Boys will be boys,”
a phrase we know,
implying girls must shoulder the load.
Girls mature fast,
women pick up the cast—
an unspoken burden, a silent decree:
Bear the weight of their irresponsibility.
In a world gripped by misogyny,
women face judgment,
their futures unclasped.
Absorbing shame for games they play,
men walk away, free to go their way.
Homes abandoned,
men now free,
their true selves unknown.
Disgrace drapes women—a heavy yoke,
neglect shatters hope.
Promises unkept,
fathers vanish as children wept.
Guilt escaped with practiced ease,
duty dodged, a ghost on the breeze.
Children and wife he never knew,
society laughs at the pain he withdrew.
Children carry his woes—
identities shaped by the hurt he chose.
Shame shouldered early,
remembering blame.
Love claimed,
but never there.
Strain felt in his name,
unfairness echoes.
Abandoned women and children grow—
a daunting endeavor men overthrow.
Shadows linger, burdens remain;
a future carved where hope will maintain.
Every struggle faced—a dawn,
strength carries on.
Nov 10, 2024
Nov 10, 2024 at 11:24 PM UTC
**Inspired by Meg Cranston's Artist for President
(http://www.uniteddivas.com/megcranston/megpresident.html)**
We assert that there is a youth culture that is different and separate from all other cultures and that our culture is governed by principles which the aged population finds peculiar or offensive.
We are tired of being labeled.
We are tired of being segmented.
We are tired of hearing old people talk about us.
We are tired of being the respondents to your 20 city questionnaire.
We are done with being ignored.
We are sick of 1980s spandex.
We are sick of your Top 40 hits on a compact disc.
We are sick of your rom-coms and big budget fantasy sci-fi sequels.
We are sick of 60 billion ad messages being hurled from satellites in outer space.
We are done with being disappointed.
We demand the right to change everything.
We demand the right to create our own words.
We demand the right to define what is cool in the morning.
We demand the right to re-define what is cool in the evening.
We are done with being told to follow.
We reserve the right to be elitist.
We reserve the right to choose our heroes.
We reserve the right to create jobs that never existed before.
We reserve the right to outsource, open-source and crowdsource everything and all.
We are done with your rigid ways.
We condemn the wars that you started.
We condemn the poverty and hunger you created.
We condemn your irresponsibility in ignoring our dying planet.
We condemn the forces of greed that keeps an honest man from climbing the income brackets.
We will fix the mess you left behind.
This is for school kids
This is for college students
This is for young professionals
This is for the young artist who shares his creations on DeviantArt
This is for the young blogger who dreams of being a travel journalist
This is for the podcaster who is on her way to become a successful RJ
This is for the YouTube user who dreams of her own television show and feature film
This is for the photography enthusiast who spends his pocket money on a Flickr Pro Account
This is for the opinionated Twitter-for-Blackberry addict destined to become a Twitter celebrity. (Even we don’t know what that means!)
This is for the coding guru who gifts his geek friend a mobile gaming app based on Dungeons & Dragons for his birthday. Yes that is cool...for now.
This is youth culture
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 2:24 PM UTC
the night is full
of stars
freckled
with millions of stars
i know that
it's my ancestor's fault
that our sky is
hiding the stars
from us
their irresponsibility leading
to the heavy pollution
hiding the stars from us
and yet they are angry at us
you're the one
who's at fault
i want to look at the stars
it would help me
comfort myself
i've only seen pictures
i just want to see a sky full of stars
the indigo void
freckled with the infinite stars that exist
they say
"I believe what I see"
does that mean that i shouldn't
believe in stars?
thank you
for polluting our world
and blaming us
it's you at fault
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 1:29 PM UTC
Don't call me a fool
just because I don't fit your bill.
I am made of mistakes
and ugly laughter.
I am a before,
a right now,
and a happy little after.
I am gritted teeth
and burnt roast beef
and tired eyes
and skinny lies
and bloated bellies
and tiny tellies.
I am shattered hearts
and missing parts
and miniskirts
and false new starts.
I am that one channel
your parents don't let you watch,
or a giant, messy void
called a black ink splotch.
I am peer pressure,
irresponsibility,
and midnight crises
pushed into a fleshbag
to walk around the world.
Don't control my life
just because you can't control
your own.
I have my own place in this world-
-a place called the throne.
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 9:45 AM UTC
Stillness preceded the sonic storm.
Then the baton plummeted,
To summon low “D’s” from orchestral depths
And a hundred voices roared, “O Fortuna!”
The throbbing ritual had begun!
Rhythms drove and lurched
Through songs of Springtime, alcohol and lust.
Brasses flared.
Muted strings cast veils over the hall.
The chorus hummed and shouted
And tender solos wafted
Over graceful flute arabesques.
The thin white stick carved the air into segments
And by some mystical synchronicity
Instruments and voices reveled together -
Medieval Latin decked out in modern attire.
A baritone sang from a tavern
With electrifying irresponsibility.
The counter-tenor mournfully chanted
The complaint of an entrée roasting on a spit.
The love of my life skied her voice
To a high “D” then descended -
And we turned Fortune’s wheel back full circle
Rounding out this earth song beyond all comparing.
“O Fortuna!”
O Fortuna, indeed!
July, 2006
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
Contra is my mantra
Walking contradiction
Comfort in contrast
Contracting the human disease day by day
Fighting hard and losing
But persisting
Resistance of assistance
Shake and bake until I'm high enough to lose my breath
Breath taking view
Atop the peaks of irresponsibility
Giving no ****
Consequences?
**** em
Back lash?
Bat your lashes and slither your way out of it
Love?
Who needs it when you've got the attention of all the sinners
An angel among them
Freezing in the arctic pinnacle of hell
One at a time their cold hearts freeze them from the inside
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
Trash.
You called my items trash. So what if you find them useless? So what if even they turn out to be useless to me? You still have no right to tell me what of mine is worth it or not.
Are you saying I'm trash?
Am I too wild and crazy for you to deal with?
You see me as nothing but a child, and that burns me, cuts deep, whatever metaphor of pain you want to use in this awful discussion. You look at me and see irresponsibility, but what actually it is, is difference. I am different than you. I know you don't normally have to deal with people who don't think like you do, correction, you don't normally like dealing with people, but you chose to deal with me.
If you can't simply accept me for who I am, as other friends have done before you, then I guess its time for you to go.
I began this blaming myself, kicking myself, for ******* up yet again. Always the ****** that Grace. But you know what? I'm getting my **** together the best way I can, and if you don't like how I function, then that *****
I can't deal with people who can't accept me. Not right now, actually, thinking about it, not ever, really.
I have to be me right now. There is no other way, and if you cannot accept that, then I guess I cannot accept you.
Leave the undesirable and go live elsewhere.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 6:56 AM UTC
If every single action,
Well thought out or not,
Has an opposite equal reaction,
You deal with what you got,
And if what you get,
Is what you deserve,
When consequence is met,
Dignity is all I can preserve,
But now my pride and dignity,
Have been replaced very quickly,
With examples of irresponsibility,
And decisions guided by stupidity,
Now weeks of bad decisions,
Are running down my face,
And all the broken provisions,
Make me feel like a disgrace,
With all the people I've disappointed,
I could build an army,
And the general appointed,
Would definitely be
Me.
Jul 22, 2011
Jul 22, 2011 at 7:23 AM UTC
when
did cooking your own jam
from real strawberries
and sugar
become an act
of treason against
equality
between the sexes?
when
did turning off the tv, the laptop, the phone
to play with your children
offline
become an act
of valour and extreme
symbolism
in most families?
when
did reading glossy advertisements
and memorising them
for extra credits
become an act
of duty as a proper
citizen
in the modern world?
when
did choosing an alternative lifestyle
deliberately
and with no concern for wealth
become an act
of excentric
irresponsibility
in an enlightened society?
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 4:27 AM UTC
Insouciance
It drives reckless souls
Out into the night
Spreading their unruly plight
Knowing nothing of fear, only of fight
Irresponsibility is a term
Those of this heart know well
As it's screamed from rickety back doors
It's reek seeps through cracked floors
Gets pounded deep in their cores
They are taking over this world
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 10:27 AM UTC
It's the centenary of the proclamation – we shall lift our glasses,
not to Guinness or to Arthur Diageo's dream of the Emerald Isle,
distracted, appeased, quelled an' ****** on the tainted black stuff,
designed to keep us inferior, pig-carriers - at arms with ourselves,
but of Irish craft, guile an' the rising of Irish spirits, the creation,
of a dream long suffered for, long wished for, celebrated in private
for shame of the austere reflection of a country and its people lost,
We shall lift our glasses to the beginning of todays sour ending,
A'sure twas' a good Easter that year.
Hand shakes warm, clean an' orchestrated with restrained sincerity,
A Kingdom reborn, a Republic divided by the maths of peace-makers,
The brave sacrificed for the sneering survival of these eels of politics,
Landowners who owned more than just land - the people's will,
Testament to this abortion of values, morals, history and desire,
is the wholesale pawning of the Irish coast – to support our captors,
the constant glance over our shoulders with panic in our quiet eyes,
as the money men, smug with irresponsibility laugh safely inside,
A'sure twas' a good Take that year.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 11:43 AM UTC
it is either/or
spiritual or material,
sophisticated cultural compliance
or young blind revolution,
those are the lenses however;
somewhere in the middling
an abandoned idiot pawns both understandings
with such stark irresponsibility
consciously acknowledging (all) his blunders
greeting good and evil, shadow and light
and those around him laugh and snitch
behind their masked pillar
because his way, his reality
is much different from theirs,
his position rescinds all human meaning
not as tender he seems, he is perhaps closest
to the borderline
a poised vision - a place where
no divisions exist,
of what is transferrable and true
the other side of wilderness.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 10:24 AM UTC
How easily,
The irresponsibility
Immediacy requires,
Begins small fires.
Which turn to pyres
Before reality enquires
The cost.
© James Rainsford 2010
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 12:46 AM UTC
Slow moving manics
Dance more frantic
When they know
They don't got a nickel to spare
Aware of the hair
Missing but still fair
Where women make love
God watching from above
So late now
Yes so late it is now
Love gone and away
I couldn't stay
You talk to me
And you write to me
As if you truly knew
Every ****** thing
That is the thing
That I just can't seem to understand
That is the ****
That made me give the final nod
Who are these people
Among the desert steeple?
Do they pray for themselves
Or is there truly someone else?
Money made me do somethings
While passion some others
Irresponsibility is guilt
Cast down from the man wearing the stilts
Believe in the sleeve
Of the beggar shaking next to you
For he can see
What we'll all soon be
These promises of luck
Or handed out
From the ten eyed ghosts
That have never felt the ****
The vacuum of morticians
Piling body after body
All covered in mud
Obsessed with this drive called love
House with a machine
That translates that into this
Get out of my house machine
I need life to believe
May 1, 2011
May 1, 2011 at 12:02 PM UTC
Liberty is the highest decree.
Independence and opportunity -
the finest, paramount glee.
Certainly indeed!
But are we really
moving towards being free?
Or is it brazen entitlement
that we blatantly feed?
#
You ask of the next catastrophe.
Mass irresponsibility:
that is sadly what
it will be
...smh
That is sadly what it will be.
Nov 12, 2019
Nov 12, 2019 at 8:35 AM UTC
i love your good mornings
the first thing when i wake up,
i love the way you tell me your frustrations
and listen when i whine for hours,
i love the way you disapprove
of my irresponsibility
and the way you care too much,
i love the promises you've made
and the promises that we'll make together someday,
i love the assurance and the safety
that you bring me,
i love the steaming jealousy i feel
every time your gone,
i love the yelling and
the smiles and
the laughter and
the pain.
i love you when we're happy
but i love you when we're not,
because i love
every inch of
who
we
are.
and i love that every day
you make me see
that everything about us
is worth
loving
forever.
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 12:33 AM UTC
hyperventilating glen beck
and thusly
criminally
insane
the PEEP-HOLE people
roust about
dreaming heroic dreams
of ************ amid the dead
creations
of the unknown god
--------
dead slime patriots
of a non existent feeble world
they cannibalize all decency
and pray for the wealth
that grants them the wished for
power
of total irresponsibility
----------
who will live of die here?
(we know the amounts)
the billions slaughtered
or starved into slavery
for the fun and games
of it all
-----------
nothing can be done
the LINE has been crossed
facing each other with courage
yes!
that
(and only that)
is left to us
now
Apr 8, 2011
Apr 8, 2011 at 12:12 PM UTC
~
*Dressed for purgatory
But early to the party
So many bodies in the house next door
A living dance upon dead minds
A grocery store sunset
Thru the windshield of an SUV
Gets you distorted colors in
Gasoline rainbows
From those precise lines
Of the turning lane
Love ends at a traffic light
We do this to ourselves
All in the pursuit of happiness
Church of questionable things
Descending like vultures
Where idols once stood
For individual suffering
A pageantry of jackals
Quiet like sirens
Picking at parts of bad contestants
Playing a game called 'poisoned trees'
Fallen soldiers in strange negotiations
With meantime brides
Riding on the train of irresponsibility
For no apparent reason
We do this to ourselves
All in the pursuit of happiness*
~
Feb 19, 2024
Feb 19, 2024 at 4:10 PM UTC
hyperventilating glen beck
and thusly
criminally
insane
the PEEP-HOLE people
roust about
dreaming heroic dreams
of ************ amid the dead
creations
of the unknown god
--------
dead slime patriots
of a non existent feeble world
they cannibalize all decency
and pray for the wealth
that grants them the wished for
power
of total irresponsibility
----------
who will live of die here?
(we know the amounts)
the billions slaughtered
or starved into slavery
for the fun and games
of it all
-----------
nothing can be done
the LINE has been crossed
facing each other with courage
yes!
that
(and only that)
is left to us
now
Apr 8, 2011
Apr 8, 2011 at 12:12 PM UTC