"kindless" poems
people keep telling me
not to be like this
the way i am
don't do this
dont do that
you know nothing
its said don't hurt
because see 'hurt' is bad
and bad is bad
how can you convert it into good
or welfare
no matter what you do
and how
people will still be rude
acheful
and deceitful
its not in my mind
to see what they see
they say you know nothing
accept other people's view
to understand them
even if they are outdated
kindless, rigid, heartless
we are asked to realize
especially if it hurts
so what if you are hurt
i am asked
to re-evaluate myself
x-ray and realize
'i am wrong'
they are all right
see..they hide well
i am asked to conceal as well
but see
i can't
i suffer because of this
of my sheer plainness
of my brutality
of my severity
just to be a real
in a world where everybody
does nothing
other than hurt'
yet again
i am asked 'don't think, don't feel'
'you are good'
not knowing it's my heart
that get hurts in the end
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 11:43 AM UTC
All Of ME
written: july 8th, 09 Wednesday
broken desire,
unbearable pain,
haunting passion,
white room dreams,
all equal secret insanity.
all equal me.
your skin
your lips
your eyes
your tears
temptations that possess me
i still dream of you
and it pushes me over tha edge
as i scream in slience
and i hear you voice in my head
suductive and kindless
taunting me
haunting me
just illision
i'm delusional
i want you so badly
you make me forget
the regret
and the incurable infections of my heart
you can call me selfish
i am
but your a insure desperate man
paranoid thoughts,
deprived imagination,
isolated pride
and sweet desperation
you and me and our bodies
you and me and our bodies
entwined
as i breathe in your name
and my lungs hurt with tha pain
something i can never have
i tasted the sweetness and i want it bad
your magical sin
giving in.....to impurities
now you have all of me
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
Its all about your day and night
Dying of insomnia
I'm about to use your company
Too late to come here
Old paper and live ink
Broken machine
I still play you here
But I need your silence
Dont dwell in silence
I'm a slave for this kindless world
I got cool waters in plastic
You don't need to grow but I need your scent
Without that I cant sleep
Your reply is my alarm to wake up
I'm a slave of blue screens
My hand sometimes bleed over text
Dont mind me cause I'll beg you to stay here
Until I come.
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 1:15 AM UTC
when they speak of your soul
as monstrous, as unkind
i stare at them in confusion
for you don’t really come to mind
both victims of a kindless crime
it’s no surprise we lack the tender
touch that others seem to crave
to which we won’t again surrender
i’ve got diamonds in my mouth
and by your tongue were they delivered
they’re rougher, there’s no doubt,
than the look your eyes have whispered
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 3:38 PM UTC
Absence is to love as wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small and kindles the great
— Roger de Bussy-Rabutin, Memoir of Roger de Rabutin
Four thousand meters above the sea, I breathe without air
I feel the same when beside me you are no more
The black, the void chokes me in the moment’s despair
And The Scarlet Fear runs inside me with a thunderous roar
My aching marooned heart bleeds from behind
Of the darkened soul that consumes me at each stride
But love is the golden aether of my troubled mind
An oxygen supply brought to this confusion tide
Without your presence, they were icy nights
Though knowing your fire ignited with my fuel
Is a mild treat, a promise of a beautiful sight
Kindless trouble, is it all in my imagination?
And is the love I feel a mere foolish incantation?
I will never know until she answers my soundless voice
Jan 13, 2021
Jan 13, 2021 at 3:10 PM UTC
Scorching rays of the sun made me tired.
Kindless words of men me worried.
Everything seems to hurt.
Nothing was close to heart.
Character I played was a tragedy.
Spectators found it as a comedy.
Fact was something hidden.
Matter was simply forbidden.
I heard a sweet sound,
but it was my heart's bound.
Longing for a miracle,
which is not mere an oracle.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 12:13 PM UTC
I was raised snarling and filthy,
How was I supposed to differentiate
the hand that beats
from the hand that feeds?
I read once
that these glistening ivories
set into these rotting, receding gums
aren't just pretty pearly things-
that they froth
and snap
and ache
for a reason.
So forgive me
if my teeth find a home amongst
fat and
flesh and
veins and
bone and
blood
When you offer out your hand to me-
That's just the way I was raised.
The asphalt is a kindless God to follow,
yet here I am:
Knees torn and scarred,
bleeding and blindingly free.
Mar 19, 2025
Mar 19, 2025 at 12:49 PM UTC
Sow a seed of random and grow a fortune in folly, if Polly did indeed put the kettle on was it a random act of kindless kind of a random though indeedly seeded mind.
Not all it was what it once unseemed where and in between the random dreams I've leaned into another opportunity gleaned from editorials and comments on this life, if torments were a pound a pound and ground into a paste I wonder if this waste of tone or time in rhyme would be as random as the right hand on my arm or just left as all things are which is alone and all by far the best a random seed can be.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 5:21 AM UTC