"joyless" poems
I'm not black, but I see you
I'm not black, but I hear you
I'm not black, but I’m near you
I'm not black, but I stand with you
you are all a blessing
so let’s stop messing
let’s cut the silence
and cut the violence
our organs are the same
the blood types won’t change
but still, this is no fair game
I see too many privilege
depending on your village
we make huge difference
let’s prove your innocence,
cut the ignorance
we are all the same,
only different names
guided by authorities,
but let’s set priorities
of humanity?
I see 0 percent
we need to stand up,
be a movement
we are hating and killing
this is not okay,
this is not fulfilling
your worth is defined by a colour,
it’s worth only some dollars?
what the **** are they thinking?
these racists are winning
where are human rights?
they only count, if you’re white?
this only causes damage
in different ages,
on different pages
people get hurt
we should be concerned
the future is equal? ha! ********
how should today’s children,
be tomorrow’s change,
if we teach them rage
how to hate one another,
not to value your brother,
how to be violent,
how to be silent,
how to watch,
follow the system,
how to be a victim
but now for real,
listen
it affects anybody
in America,
the cops have their hands ******
A.C.A.B. but not all are ********
there are some,
with really good standards
we should all be
on the same team,
make love our religion
that would be supreme
why fight each other
when we share a mother?
mother earth wouldn’t like all this hatred,
that we created
I don’t understand,
how can you be so mean?
how can we heal?
is there a vaccine?
I know life can be joyless,
so let’s raise our voices
let’s stay strong,
together,
and be clever
let’s learn how to care,
how to love,
how to share
let’s be a game changer,
cut out the danger
make it safe for everyone
no need to use a gun
less violence, decrease
let’s be good, find peace
we come in different shapes, colours, sizes
now this problem finally arises
we need to find a cure
it’s urgent, I’m sure
bring some clarity,
embrace the difference,
cherish similarity
we are all human
let’s find a solution
create a revolution
more or less melanin?
doesn’t matter,
'cause we all need
the same medicine.
- gio 31.05.2020
Jun 20, 2020
Jun 20, 2020 at 2:14 PM UTC
No water tastes sweeter
than that sip in the desert
No touch is finer
than that hand on the shoulder
when encased in loneliness.
No paycheck more abundant
than following employment deprivation.
No buffet more filling
than that first bite in hunger.
No more wondrous serenity
than when the pain
finally goes away
from your mouth
your back
your head
your knees
your gut
your mind.
No idea more stimulating
to a mind so hungry
than a poem which catches
the moment so perfectly.
No love more appreciated
than when awash in self judgement
No praise more received
than when lost in condemnation.
No warmth more soothing
than when lost in the snow.
No light so bright
as that first sunlight
when lost in the demons
of one's night.
No sensation so
pure as an open
heart after numbness descends
Compassion in hatred
A laugh when joyless.
A lover's kiss after betrayal
A loving look after the cold white wall
A loving word after tense stone silence.
No embrace more healing
than when you come home to me.
The receding waters after the tsunami
The stillness after the earthquake.
The peace after the warfare.
The spring flowers after the winter
The coolness of fall after the blistering summer's heat.
The wood stove so warm when the house is so cold.
No bed so content
No home so sweet
after being stuck out on the streets.
Duality Reality
Without our joys no sorrow
Without our sorrows no joy.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 3:23 PM UTC
Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?
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I feel such a joyless and reckless, unbridled
Despair of some incessant boredom time trial
So much of it placed in my hands to control
And to bend to my will, but I just do not know
What to do with it all, but imagine a place
Where again reunited within her embrace
It would all have been worth it, to flee undeserving
Of her concerns, left to my morbid devices
observing
The rest of its turning
Without her nearby
Until in her resplendence
She sets in the sky
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC
These people, they come into my life,
And so begins the chronic strife.
They claim to know me all too well,
Till reality is a mere ebb and swell.
They say they can read me like a book,
But they never take a closer look.
My joyless heart they never saw,
They never soothed my angry flaw.
To keep away in vain I tried,
They gave me words and I complied,
And once their emotional need was sated,
They ran away and never waited.
How does that make me feel about me?
Taken for granted will I always be ?
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 8:05 AM UTC
I've come to see,
This daylight adrift; amidst.
Refracting my joyless abyss.
Shadows of doubt linger; restless.
Misleading my moral compass,
Distant places that shouldn't exist.
Darkest corners of a timeless eclipse.
The more emotions I emit.
This cloud's progress persist.
So remise, I dismiss fears that are amiss.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 11:37 PM UTC
Somehow he pulls along
He breathes
In his little width of life,
He gasps
In making that width
When moves flesh
That far outweighs
What he gets at the ride’s end,
Sweats it out in the sun
Splashes in the rain
A pedaling run
Joyless but gritty
That if can be made
Would fetch him his bread
From the rider in comfort
To the puller who transports
Mountains of loads
Knowing not to pause
Till drawn by fate
For a rest in sunset!
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 6:14 AM UTC
Please remember to remember not to forget to remember
We braced the chill and last shared voices in November
When with reasons unknown you suddenly lost your temper
And in faceless avenue unseen you put it all in a damper
Please remember to remember not to forget to remember
Two minds steep in years hoping to revive a dying ember
Angling wisely for the solace of light in a peaceful chamber
Rising for noble ideals each a worthy conscientious member
Please remember to remember not to forget to remember
I stoke flames and called out doves in days before September
Not for glory or gain but in delight to fly a friend wishes tender
Homage to a smile Lisa, like that made by da Vinci the painter
Please remember to remember not to forget to remember
Now its time to seek the Sun afar in the land of greens and timber
soothing words that shows the grace and give of a friend keeper
Remains aloof to a joyless onerous mind that will only get sadder
Please remember to remember not to forget to remember
Empty pride rousing clouded mind makes it fittingly simpler
Strength and clarity to atone chimes only wit now't sinister
A truer pilgrim seeks pardon and deftly shames attitudes insular
To the wise what cost affinity in the garland of true harmony
Copyright. LaurenceA31stJuly2018.Allrightsreserved.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 6:51 AM UTC
I
And, like a dying lady lean and pale,
Who totters forth, wrapp’d in a gauzy veil,
Out of her chamber, led by the insane
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,
The mood arose up in the murky east,
A white and shapeless mass.
II
Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?
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*Indefinite black pervades the air,
a darkened sun casts no shine
luminous black, like concrete surrounds you,
light is absent, Cimmerian shade is all.
Sonorous, sullied, sooty black cloaks all.
Shimmering, in the corner is a jet black,
obsidian hard sparkle, it's just a puddle.
A puddle made to sparkle in the street light.
A joyless sight in the darkness of a Stygian night.
Indistinct figures rush by, oblivious to the sparkling puddle.
Somber souls,mournfully groping homeward in the false electric light.
Home to a comfortless home, having failed to see the sparkle in the dark.*
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
Daydreams about my future
consumed my fifteen year old mind,
if only I was informed that eight years later,
I'd still be daydreaming about my future.
Daydreams about my future
consisted of joy and freedom
if only I was informed that eight years later,
I'd still be restrained and joyless.
Daydreams about my future
so misleading to think I would be successful
eight years later and I still question if this
pain will ever cease to exist.
Daydreams about my future,
a world full of fairness that celebrates brightness
not this mess of confused individuality where
anonymity is the new frontier.
Daydreams about my future,
gave me hope that one day I would find the acceptance
I so desperately craved
Eight years later and I'm still hungry.
Daydreams about my future,
reprieve from the torment from my peers.
who would have known, that eight years later
my peers would still misunderstand me.
Daydreams about my future,
the place I withdraw and hide in.
Eight years later and I'm still stuck
in daydreams about my future.
Daydreams about my future,
a hopeless concept my young mind created
to pretend that reality is nonexistent
Eight years later and my reality is still choking the life from me.
Daydreams about my future,
the only thing that keeps me going,
eight years later and I'm still relying on a lie
to get me through this life until it's time to die
Daydreams about my future,
who would have known that I would be so naive to stay here
Eight years later, my twenty-three year old mind has
disappointed my fifteen year old self.
Daydreams about my future,
are all I have left.
Eight years later and I'm still here,
daydreaming about my future.
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 2:58 AM UTC
Nightfall, through the door,
Bedsprawl, a ritualistic bore. Movements, they're oppressive. Actions, they're aggressive but his eyes, they're depressive.
Our synthetic connection and self-hatred is created with projection and misplaced indignation. There is no love in our heads, no lust in our beds. The fear of emasculation and eternal damnation hides all self-loathing with boasting and congruent clothing.
My Y was castrated. I'm a ****** from the womb. I'm Female, for unsated gloom my X is berated. I'm named a disgusting mutation as he projects his deveation onto the population.
When his shameful "pride" has diminished, I know our joyless formality has finished. He doesn't sit in the pew, yet he stands in the aisle, locked in a prison of denial. Tough and brisant, trying to be what he isn't. He walks out like a ragdoll, his steps aneurysmal with alcohol.
Beside myself, salty tears act as an anaesthetic, the antonym of emotion. An apathetic ocean.
I clutch my centre, the daunting tormentor. Impregnation is a STD, an infection, an infestation. Glue for our miseries to undo our joys. Merriment induced torment, fidelity induced gaiety
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 8:03 AM UTC
Not by one measure mayst thou mete our love;
For how should I be loved as I love thee?—
I, graceless, joyless, lacking absolutely
All gifts that with thy queenship best behove;—
Thou, throned in every heart’s elect alcove,
And crowned with garlands culled from every tree,
Which for no head but thine, by Love’s decree,
All beauties and all mysteries interwove.
But here thine eyes and lips yield soft rebuke:—
‘Then only,’ (say’st thou), ‘could I love thee less,
When thou couldst doubt my love’s equality.’
Peace, sweet! If not to sum but worth we look,
Thy heart’s transcendence, not my heart’s excess,
Then more a thousandfold thou lov’st than I.
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The trip would be flawless -
water splashing, echoed shrieks in chlorinated sunlight -
except for these baffling creatures
patrolling the pool
Up and down they go,
up and down,
staring daggers straight ahead
and daring you to get in their way
Rubber hats and plastic eyes,
folded skin, wrinkled
like deflated dinghies
doggedly paddling
their pointless journeys.
A bit like clockwork bath toys,
but not as entertaining.
The safety notices are wasted on them.
No petting?
I should ****** well think not.
Bombing? Ducking? Anything fun at all?
Up, down,
up
and down.
Relentless as the baddies
in a ZX Spectrum game,
stuck in their lanes,
joyless.
They were there when I was six
and they're still there, you know,
a few more wrinkles now,
up
(and down),
spilling out their black slick second skins.
Whatever it was they were looking for,
the search
isn't improving their moods.
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 11:40 AM UTC
5/15/2021
Did you ever play in the rain as a kid?
Now it reminds us of all sadness did.
Did you ever stare out of a window pane,
And let your joyless tears fall with the rain?
Did it ever make you feel wet and miserable,
And leave you asking questions unanswerable?
Did you ever wonder how something with
So much life could bring also death?
Mar 12, 2022
Mar 12, 2022 at 10:54 AM UTC
It's cold and it's empty, this
hollowed out feeling of pleasure...
I focus on the rush of desire -
desire for the sensations alone...
The sweet friction in my center,
the pounding force of what is
you, merely a tool for my cravings'
fulfillment; an object for nothing
but my physical satisfaction;
a satiating of my burning lust...
You're worthless to me outside
this externally needful task...
Not my heart, neither my soul,
have even the smallest holding
pocket, cradling some sort
of love or care for you...
Tell me, please, why we do
this to ourselves, over and
over, again and again...?
Are we honestly contented by
the passionless movements of
our graceless pieces and parts?
Is this animalistic ritual
the solution for what we so
desperately search for; that for
which we agonizingly struggle,
crawling down confused, tangled
paths, looking without knowing
exactly what we seek,
despairing, sickly, exhausted, and
so pathetic; so pitifully weak??
Are we satisfied with *******
Just ******* could that be
the answer to the question
that, from existence becoming,
the human being has been,
from the depths of the soul,
constantly, repetitively screaming?
I cannot bring myself to
believe such a notion could hold
a sand grain's worth of truth, but
you seem to have accepted
this joyless, hope-crushing idea,
and as for myself, I know
I'll only continue ignoring that
which my heart keeps urgently
speaking with a driving,
whispering voice, from my
inner-most recesses, and
continue on with the oblivious
dance of this pretending; this
charades game all the world
eagerly strives to play...
I will bottle the juices of
my self-deceiving, self-depriving
fruits, borne of my guilt, my
denial birthed shame...
Yes, of course! I'm absolutely
satisfied with the act of
mere ******* Feelings of
wholeness sweep and flutter,
butterflying the insides
of my body's unseen puzzle pieces,
and I'm simply overflowing
with this ever so peaceful calm...
Lies, fiction, deception, robed
by willfully grasped ignorance,
keeps us marching, two-by-two,
silently miserable husks, just
living until it's time to lay
in another void-like place, this
one our grave, lonely and cold...
And now it doesn't seem like
there's anything left, for
any one of us, to say...
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 7:52 AM UTC
Tree of endless life
Let us hang ourselves and swing
Watching life slip by
Life of joyless dreams
We need to gather more rope
Waking just to die
Dreams of empty souls
Swaying gently in the breeze
Light slips from our eyes
Jun 19, 2010
Jun 19, 2010 at 5:50 PM UTC
Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again,
And howlest, issuing out of night,
With blasts that blow the poplar white,
And lash with storm the streaming pane?
Day, when my crown'd estate begun
To pine in that reverse of doom,
Which sicken'd every living bloom,
And blurr'd the splendour of the sun;
Who usherest in the dolorous hour
With thy quick tears that make the rose
Pull sideways, and the daisy close
Her crimson fringes to the shower;
Who might'st have heaved a windless flame
Up the deep East, or, whispering, play'd
A chequer-work of beam and shade
Along the hills, yet look'd the same.
As wan, as chill, as wild as now;
Day, mark'd as with some hideous crime,
When the dark hand struck down thro' time,
And cancell'd nature's best: but thou,
Lift as thou may'st thy burthen'd brows
Thro' clouds that drench the morning star,
And whirl the ungarner'd sheaf afar,
And sow the sky with flying boughs,
And up thy vault with roaring sound
Climb thy thick noon, disastrous day;
Touch thy dull goal of joyless gray,
And hide thy shame beneath the ground.
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I returned to Paris as in days gone by,
Now that I’m here, I’m not sure why,
For the city that once felt like home,
Is a joyless place when you’re alone.
I can’t help but recall the older days,
Of sipping wine in corner cafes,
Romantic dinners by candle light,
That lasted well into the night.
The walks along the river Seine,
Huddled together against the rain,
Hand in hand we’d stroll the street,
Stealing kisses, so discrete.
Now as I walk along the avenue,
I think about the times with you,
But the city we both loved so dear,
Is a lonely place without you here.
And though I yearn for the times of old,
Now the city just seems so cold,
I made my return but I’m sorry I came,
For Paris will never be the same.
04-12-11.
Jan 12, 2012
Jan 12, 2012 at 2:08 AM UTC
Rusted iron bar
Rough against my wrist
Trapping all the moonlight
Under crystal waves
****** mason jars
Menial joyless tryst
Draining all the starlight
Through crystal waves
Far as you are far
Listless in your way
Searching in your headlights
Flooding in my head
Rustic open scar
The grit all washed away
Deep beneath the moonlight
In crystal waves
I just can't no longer see
Without your rapidly deteriorating interest interest
What's killing me
Causality
Couldn't care less
It's killing me
Whatever life spared to see
Couldn't care less
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 9:43 PM UTC
The vacant hallway echoes futile cries
of withering smiles
and half-murmured lies.
Mind scattered with glimpses, images flash
relentlessly
'till memories collapse.
Vintage wallpaper stains rooms with regret
as the cold wooden floors
never forget
temptation haunted by weights of deceit.
The rocking-chair sounds
the horn of retreat.
Remnants of love forever lay broken
shards of once was
and words left unspoken.
Joyless, he left with just a whispered sigh,
of withering smiles
and too-late goodbyes.
Dec 7, 2010
Dec 7, 2010 at 1:59 PM UTC
Standing, soaked, out in a storm, gusts of wind whipping my hair around wildly
Unruly strands sway with the song of chaos, pulling at my scalp, snapping, lashing at my face
My existence is all reality as this whirlwind tempest frantically thrashes about my flesh
In the complex puzzles and foolish games, a simple madness lives, and therein lies my freedom
My tongue and lips sometimes flap boisterously from their spot on my face
And the noises risen up from my throat, and passed through my mouth are meaningless blubberings
Involuntarily, I grin, tasting the nonsense's unique sweetness, and I swallow
My laughter rings out, a vociferous and untameable sound; humor, the voice of a crazy woman
And I spin! Oh, I spin and spin and spin, savagely, in ellipses, ovals, and circle shapes
I've no shame, and this dance is all mine, so I maniacally fling my arms through the air
And as my body makes its revolutions, a fierce smile curves the shape of my lips, wrinkles the corners of my eyes
Inside my mind, wandering - wondering if there's any real difference between elated insanity and that which I crave...
Some people might use words such as eccentric, strange, whimsical, and peculiar for what they cannot understand
So very often I hear these such words being used from those who speak of me
But it is them whom I perceive as being rather off, so habitual and boring, living like routine enslaved, joyless zombies
So unfathomable to me, why most everyone seems to desire nothing beyond a passionless, hollow schedule to, every day, just repeat
Me... I'll race barefoot down a gravel path, through lightning, thunder, and rain, only to feel my hair being twisted and tangled up in the wind
I'll jabber absurdities, laugh like a loon, all while I spin contentedly around and around, until, stupidly dizzy, I crash and fall
Madness pays little mind, stands without worries or concerns, because it believes - it knows, most nothing matters
This is my freedom, freedom that cannot be shared, for what it is, is something that's only freeing for me...
~A. D. Smithson MARCH 2013
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 4:58 AM UTC
It's a common trope,
the Danse Macabre that troops us
toward hushed tombs.
Blame its plague on Wolgemut
or Bruegel (Pieter the Elder),
and certainly Bergman
What with his iconic black-clad Death
and the parade of captive players taken
hand-in-hand on a joyless march.
But Life has her own fleet moments to lead,
and these flip-flop pageants though ragtag
are not the less enriching to behold
Or so I'm told in passing by
the delicate bluebell peaking its buds through
a monochrome rubble.
May 6, 2010
May 6, 2010 at 3:34 PM UTC
These three lay stranded, spit back
black by a whipped and layered sea.
How now, if ever he was vengeful,
Jonah must joyless chuckle to see it
These three who lay stranded with toys,
littering the sand — their phalli anchored,
oars stilled, and portholes spilling out
a last salty gasp to grasp it
These three who lay stranded, chasing
****** with a frantic gaze, to fetch help
or seek simple solace from the monstrous
riddles staining their glassy eyes
These three who lay stranded, smitten
again by land long-ago left to reverse
evolution's tide. God can't undo
their nifty trick swift enough to save
These three who lay stranded and wait,
lonely for their brothers still headed to shore.
Apr 6, 2010
Apr 6, 2010 at 8:41 AM UTC
I barely notice the phone ring anymore;
Messages tell me it does so every hour, if not more.
I barely can hear it ring.
I barely can hear my heartbeat.
I feel I barely have a pulse.
His heart, he claims, sounds like an alarm;
It resonates throughout his ribcage.
I barely can ignore it.
His past is coating my cerebrum.
My irrational thoughts and fears flood my dreams.
I am sorry that my heart is buried.
I am sorry that it forgot this language;
It cannot sing or speak
Out of fear of miscommunication.
I barely know who or what I am anymore.
I barely can breathe enough to say these words to you.
I barely am alive anymore;
You deserve a heartbeat that sounds like yours.
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC