"lackluster" poems
As the glorious LION
Stands strong in stature
Radiating with a presence
Of Absolute rule
The air washed with
A bristly respect
A natural pride
Beams with beauty
He guards the gateway to truth
and only the brave may enter
He is the king that needs no crown
as he holds a royal presence as he
sits in his golden coat and main
Lies spark combust just bounce off
dissolve in all his shine.
As broken men become renewed
Their fractured parts
Collect in the melting ***
Of the Lion's stare
As they are engulfed and swallowed
In the reservoirs of his strength
As the many wounded souls
Find themselves restored
In his majestic presence
As he rattles the very fabric
Of this world
There is no procrastinating belly
Exposed by a lackluster display
No one insults his strength
By creating a make believe world
Or covers him with scaffolding so
That they may alter him
For he is the finished article
And he is never held up or supported
With anyone's emotional ropes or strings
For he no ones puppet
He is never silenced
By the Strangle hold of this world
Tightened with a multitude of gestures
For I hear his ROAR!!!!!!!!
His explosive self expression
As his throat bursts and beams like the sun
Breaking all collars, and his tongue is freed
As a thousand trap doors Open up in him
And boulders are lifted and rocks are shattered
within the sound of his voice.
His Soft pads of silent stealth
Gather for all his wealth
As the power of his pounce
Is governed by both his strength
Of spirit and the honesty
With which he meets the earth
For he owns all of his own pain
And paces and growls to warn
Away any who seek to steal his fresh ****
And diminish him with pretty lies
For he owns all his space
As it feeds his strength
As somewhere in the fury of feasting
Lionesses and Lions
We find our freedom
For his power explodes like a volcano
When his soul meets the earth
As he shakes off all avoidance
To seek only truth
As streaks of white light
And pure Gold glisten in the SUN
As the world's projections
Reflect and bounce off him
There is so much to learn
From a beautiful LION
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC
I met a friend today
His name was Death
He smiled big with pure white teeth
And minty fresh breath
I asked him what he did for a living
Staring blankly at me, batting his eyelashes
He did the opposite of giving
What did that mean?
But the closer I got to Death
The better I understood his scheme
In his sharp black suit he won me over
I felt an irresistible draw
Like to a diamond in the rough, or a four leaf clover
He convinced me of the beauty in the night
That when the moon was hidden from view
There was nothing better than the lack of light
He led me from my lust for life
Sang to me in my sleep
Whispered sweet nothings and handed me the knife
I tried to pull away from my newly found friend
But his choke hold was so tight
On him I started to depend
The world could see me deteriorate into nothing
He held me harder and closer
With shortness of breath I stood huffing and puffing
Enclosed in the lackluster of our friendship I became numb
The emotions drifted with my vitality
I tried to retrieve them but could only attain 1/5th of my former sum
The more time you spend with a person
The more you become like them
I suppose I couldn't see the situation worsen
Collar around my neck he leashed me like a dog
I cared so deeply for him
My haze filled mind ignored the dense fog
I came to terms with my life long trap
Death circled like a satellite around my position
No matter where I went he found my place on the map
Eventually I succame to this fate
Despite his control
Death, I could not hate
I loved him too dearly to notice the signs
I couldn't think clearly
His presence was odious and it wasn't benign
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 11:25 PM UTC
the bones were hard to give up,
they pushed out like daisies
caressed under the hounding
heart of a copper sun.
unbridled and undried they bore
zealous arrogance of themselves,
petals dripping ****** convictions
and vibrating like awful angels.
under cruel devices they tried to
soften my bones and mold thick skull
constructed of lackluster candles
on their last flame.
days passed like doctors and white nurses
examining old wires that pray tell
the routines, the stools, the teeth.
i am their Jesus, their Lazarus.
my hearse, my sheep keeper,
my pretty things,
i become the acrobat at the
finale, the last supper,
supplementing at the **** of my
recovery. i lay my skin down for all
of you to see: here is my breast!
my toad belly! my glass feet!
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
You act callously crude
Like Cronenberg's brood
You keep the body horror
In the naughty drawer
I feel my body's poorer
So you convince me I'm rich
Then treat me like an itch
And scratch
To detach
You invited me to your chateau
Then left me on this plateau
For my beating heart exploded from my chest
Once I foolishly entered your nasty nest
There I lay
As immobile prey
My body was infected
By your touch
And my mind dissected
Way too much
You passionately present me with body horror
I really resent you for being a shoddy sawyer
Cutting me down but not completely
Your lackluster love travels obliquely
Dislocating my horrified heart
My rib cage begins to part
As my mangled love
Escapes with my blood
My fingers are breaking
Trying to carry the relationship
Happiness I'm faking
When you crack your elation whip
When I'm powerless to the *****
I become showerless in a hurry
And my skin starts to rot
While I lie on your cold cot
You're my unforgiving cop
And the horrors never stop
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 1:15 PM UTC
Mozart,
deaf,
died, eventually.
Picasso, pervert, died; Whitney, Winehouse, drugs, dead; Elvis, Methamphetamine, died
(on the toilet).
Van Gogh,
missing an earlobe,
died.
Plath,
head in an oven,
in front of her kids,
Woolf
Patron saint of insanity, I guess
waded into a river and-
River. River Phoenix. Drugs.
Natalie Merchant wrote that song about him in 1995.
Flash forward.
Me, twenty-one, drunk.
Proprietor of a collection of lackluster poems.
Sold their small, nonbinary soul to the Devil
in exchange for a fortune,
gone.
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 6:49 PM UTC
thin lips
fat cheeks
dull eyes
blotchy skin
uninviting
grotesque
lackluster
young
ugly
and picking at the imperfections
only makes them more prominent
until they are all i can see
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 12:51 AM UTC
Keys and notes.
Compliments of a king,
Through the halls the echoes ring.
Compliments of a queen,
Nothing to them they mean.
Keys and notes.
Compliments of a jester,
Nothing meant but to reject her.
Without her aware
He stops and stares
Not in her eyes
For those he lives to despise.
But through his mind to another,
To him a harmless loveless lover.
Keys and notes.
Compliments of a waiter,
Waiting for him to love her.
You'd think her a fool to serve him
But not much longer to his whim.
A secret key to her lock she's found
Running what was once blooming into the ground.
Keys and notes.
Compliments of one other,
For two too long the beat had suffered
Too long the keys out of tune,
Too long the notes out of sync with each other.
Better to play a lackluster tune
Or to just put an end to the song.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 12:44 PM UTC
This candlelight has been witness to both hatred and love
To shouts of anger born from throats reddened raw
Smashed mugs and smashed china and half-mended smashed hearts
But to passion, forgiveness, old flames both rekindled and small.
Candlelight lit from matches or flint
Such lovely low light supplied to romantic nothings
(“Does it really matter which?” you’d asked me then, eyes to the sky.
And I’d nodded, because it did.)
And I remember the first time I saw you by candlelight.
Shattered bulbs had left us with nothing but flames under stars
And I’m glad I first found you by such unforgettable light
Not lackluster memory that passed me by
Because now, alone beneath imaginary hatches
You light up the room by candle wax and boxed matches.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 7:26 PM UTC
Life seldom grants us absolutes
Before the truth of reason
Comparison was treason
Ignoring the fact
That some have and some lack
Was common practice
Justice was lackluster
Politicians and business men
Were fluff and lots of bluster
But now with all the information we have
Reason and comparison should be elevated
Inequalities should be seriously debated
Not with flowery words which inform so little
But conceal so much, but with science
Because facts find hidden truths revealed
And there is seldom to much truth
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 5:46 PM UTC
Lustrous but also lackluster
We are gems yet salvaged
Formed inside of a shelled world
Waves waning and whining
Sailors nauseated on our waters
Drifting towards an aggrandized land
Where they might find us oysters in the sand
They'll tear them open,
In search of what only we bear
Camouflaged amongst the cultured,
Or even those with nothing there
Darling,
We are wild,
Yes we are rare
Open up to me,
We've so many layers to share
Your metallic smile,
Your iridescent articulation
Everything happened so naturally
A miracle to be in the same location
They won't crack us,
For our muscles will defend
Our valuable and vulnerable interior
From the worlds vinegary intent
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 10:13 PM UTC
Can't talk about, can't write about, a single thing but loving you
Don't mean to schmooze, my shameless muse, always down for aimless cruise
stare through window glass at tunnel lights that zoom straight past our heads
I walk on air, dodge solar flares, ignites my mind when I'm in bed
I can't stop, cotton to moth
brushstrokes swirl upon the backdrop
slumping over center console
dream about centaurs and scary monsters
shake me awake and tell me its okay
I know it is but it feels better that way
And I feel a nostalgia a sense of old security
the same I got when I was young and fell asleep to the TV
underneath the afghan with unwravled threads and fraying ends
hold onto me while I nitpick the same old **** inside my head
I can't stop, cotton to moth
brushstrokes swirl upon the backdrop
slumping over center console
dream about centaurs and scary monsters
shake me awake and tell me its okay
I know it is but it feels better that way
Tell me baby is it true?
Should I ride or die for you?
can I be your passenger?
or do you find me lackluster?
I can't let it be the thought of you and me
scared that our future is tragic history
and every time I find myself ready to shift gears
something holds me back, some aching type of fear
I can't stop, cotton to moth
brushstrokes swirl upon the backdrop
slumping over center console
dream about centaurs and scary monsters
shake me awake and tell me its okay
I know it is but it feels better that way
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC
I didn't know anything
you so suddenly left
never even getting
another chance to speak
I wanted to hear your laugh
but instead I sit and cry
wishing I could see you
waiting for the emptiness
to just go away
Like a leaf blowing
no one hears its cry
it is just a simple
lackluster leaf
Holding hands
now that's a feeling
it is warm and always new
the sensation and memory
It remains the same
yet the feeling changes
the swirling, warm feeling
it never feels out of place
I remember little
but have some vivid
very long lasting memories
you were so nice
Summer breezes and fireflies
whistling and watching
stars appear in our eyes
as we gaze into the campfire
I remember the taste of mint
the laughs and gelatin snacks
movies with each other
and especially, holding hands.
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 3:24 PM UTC
I chase these ideals...
These versions of my life that don't exist,
They just become tormenting fantasies,
Sometimes, destroying everything I love in the process...
I begin to analyze the concept of what's "deserved,"
Deserved by whom?
Who's the authority?
The sky's the limit?
Not when you're shackled to the ground, shackled by the wake of your past,
You can't escape your shadows,
Lost in mistake after mistake,
Like a stone of scar tissue,
There's nothing left to wound,
Which exit did I miss?
Maybe I should have gotten off this road a long time ago,
What went wrong?
What went right?
Love, family, life, dreams...
This game full of tricks, fools, dogs, and thieves,
Blessed or cursed,
It's all this relative facade,
Romanticizations and fairytales,
You've got yours and I've got mine,
A nonsensical masquerade,
Wrapped in oblivion,
By dawn, the masks come off,
No one's dancing,
And we're left standing naked with our truths, our choices, and our pain,
Daily reminders all around,
Everything is dulled,
A shimmering lackluster,
Sensations numbed,
Spare me sensationalization,
Please don't offer me prescriptions,
Don't offer me subscriptions,
They don't disguise the lies,
They don't smooth out the wrinkles of the sweet, euphemistically, sugarcoated descriptions of what is and what will never be...
Clandestine connections,
Undeniable, as we spiral through this network of intimate caves...
Slipped into a hole years ago,
Never seemed to crawl out..
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 4:00 AM UTC
The arms of the clock are reaching high to God
As I lay on my floor thinking in contradicting circles
Contemplating the words I need to say
To save the friendships I've just made
They're all so precious to me
But I see them slowly
Becoming less, and less
And less, and less
Interested in
Me
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 11:27 PM UTC
You are blue
Your companionship has long since gone away
Your words come slowly if ever
Your interjections have no meaning
Your passion is a doused flame
Your decisions are unfair
You are bronze
Your shine is lackluster
Your potential is untapped
Your enthusiasm is misdirected
You are rust
Your intellect is a-waste
Your trust is broken
Your mind is now clouded
You are brown
Your ear is unsharpened
You coughs are unnatural
Your friendship is valued even yet
You are orange
Your ethic is admirable
Your company is comical
Your life is my soaps
You are yellow
Your face is but fair
Your skin has blemishes
Your actions not so demure – but yet
You are red
Your actions are fuel for my fire
Your intentions are good but the crafted hands left wanting
You are Violet
Your pain was great
Your color is of love
Your solid perseverance is for me
You are White
Your brilliance outshines mine
Your patience burns as fast as light
Your opinion flares as bright as magnesium
Black is not found
Deep down I have looked
But came back wanting
Is that naïve?
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 5:59 PM UTC
in the hours of circulating darkness
meandering the streets of my mind
inside the walls of a staple
sadly not built in the realm of
satisfying fantasies.
believing that more remains
under the stars that house
infallible creatures determining the
lackluster era in which they
dwell cannot be all there is
in this undiscovered,
newly founded land of
gallant nonconformity
forever dancing a brilliant quiver
orbiting the undeniable
refuge devised if only
to be safe from the world for a
single day more
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 6:55 AM UTC
Gently you patted my cheek,
with a tenderness piquant,
not known hitherto to us both.
Those quivering long fingers
exude motherliness,I miss ever after,
my mom has gone to her last pilgrimage,
And I crave for at moments of pain intense.
From the layers of memory darkened
by distance,I recover that feeling,
to place you instantly at a level higher,
than that of a sultry lover to whom
desire than anything higher binds together.
In to my lackluster eyes, you peer,
see the ineptly hidden drop of tear,
in the corner shivering plaintively
before rolling down to lose forever,
it's in the memory of my mother,
who rhythmically tapped my back,
led me to the cozy cloud of sleep,
when outside raged the rain storm,
I now gather, to a women I owe
when, time after time she takes
another avatar, of my mother,
momentarily, at times,when earth slips,
from under the feet
unexpectedly.
You did see the storm raging
inside and the child looking for solace.
You hold me close to your *****
and I travel to a world gone by again
even when wolves howl refusing to sleep.
and let me doze off to wake up in another world!
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 12:50 PM UTC
I’m lost amidst the closets of curiosities,
Trapped within the fibres of a page.
Desperately humming lackluster songs of
Redemption.
Straining my eyes to see into the dark,
Scanning subconscious horizons in search
Of the rocky cove where the sun will be.
Reborn.
My fingers are bleeding from trying to grasp.
The peonies and gardenias in my skull,
Losing my grip on the garden in my mind.
Shrieking.
Obscure obscenities as the angels stand and
Stare. Nonconformity has eternally failed me.
Garden nymphs move their wooden mouths.
Whispering.
Songs of sorrow and the skies.
Constructing.
Oddly-shaped windows of eternal insignificance.
Jun 13, 2011
Jun 13, 2011 at 4:34 PM UTC
Absence.
Lack thereof.
Without.
Lost.
Forgotten.
Absence.
An empty bed.
Lonely hearts club.
A party of one.
Quiet house.
Not even a stir.
Miles cracking as he spins and spins
Rain drop drops down the windows,
down walls
down me.
Absence.
Not good enough to be remembered.
Boring, lackluster, too easily surpassed.
A hole in the heart,
Weakness is showing emotion.
Blank face.
Death in Life.
EXILE.
Absence.
Tardiness.
A minute too late.
Detention.
No, absence.
Not here at all
was never really here
was never ever here.
Absence.
Seeing what is wanted
Not what is had.
What is had
is absence.
A lack thereof.
Nothing really at all.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 1:32 PM UTC
*My acute dementia
Seems to precipitate the need for immediate euthanasia
A hurried departure
Through the aperture
Deep set in the hollowness of time
Because essentially life’s been a lackluster mime
Imbibing flawlessly flawed ideas
That inform my capricious
Nature to various stimuli
It’s a life story based on a true lie
Frivolities interspersed with grave concerns
The myriad adjourns
Futile attempts at mitigating
A self-imposed galling.*
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 5:06 AM UTC
*A river flowing against its course
As if to floss
Its rare peculiar uncanny ingenuity
A notable case study of ambiguity.
An estranged lover unceremoniously
Literally butchering his offspring mercilessly
In cold blood
For having been dragged through the mud.
The undercurrents of change overriding
Entrenched seemingly myopic tendencies which aren’t binding
Causing irrevocably reversible state of affairs
Care not to be caught in the crosshairs.
A hopelessly optimistic romantic
Head over heel in love with the mystique
Aura of eccentricity effortlessly effused by
Her, she indeed worth a try.
Myriad circumstantial conundrums
That is cause of the inevitable humdrum
So characteristic of life
Answers a trifle few and the lackluster enthusiasm rife.*
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 2:21 AM UTC
a coin harlot he showers the day
with his turn of phrase that would sell
a sunken city to a floating fat man
the floating man
isnt really fat
but he belives himself to be
after all they wouldnt lie on tv would they
so he spends his lackluster days
become a deeper shade of golden tan and thinner by
shouting phrases of strangers arguments at
the passing clouds
nawing on the bone of contentious verbal meat
he floats in a life peserver
from the Lusitania
and its well peserved sanitys sealed in a jar
which he grips with a fevered hand they
are both his bane and plastic fantastic lover doll
all rolled into one evil mocking grin rubber ducky smelling henchwoman
she languishes in her sand and shell embrace of her lips
her rubber ducky superglue scent
is her own chinese man trap
after all dosnt every man secretly desire a love affair with
his rubber duck
they wouldnt lie about that on tv now would they
course not, dont be silly
i wait for first my ride home
but failing that
i will swim
goodnight and sleep tight
least you find yourself a rubber ducky
you can f@%ky
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 7:42 PM UTC
She wants a spark that isn’t there,
that never was, but always burned.
Routine remains in comfort where
love should reside. Two hearts once frost
are made warm when one, and only
joined together when separate.
This truth is implanted to a
girl who is as broken as the lives
she’s left behind. Intentions are
fueled by the hope of a road cleared
ahead of the fallible thick-
et their feet fall on now. Toes are
scarred from entangled roots scattered
the width of the path. To stray is
to stay on course, she says to him.
The fill of a thrill from a chase
already deemed triumphant ball-
oons his wings. He soars in the sky
to rival the eagle. Though ev-
en she cannot ignore the threat
of temptation. Indirect in-
iquities thrive in the life of
the one who began this feat by
fault of suppressed ignorance now
made alive. Infidelity
envelopes their lackluster rel-
ation. They wonder if there ev-
er was anything there at all. A
friendly companionship confused
as love? What is love but a con-
nection between friends. His protests
fall on deaf ears. She has felt the
flames, and they are warm. Their paths are
clear, but not as predicted. In-
to the sunset they walk, between
them another heart, more cold than
the one they shared.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
This town is crumbling.
With dust turning into ashes.
A judgmental life built
to the apparent lackluster rhyme.
*Trembling lips, forced proximity.
Eyes on fire, the vile toxicity.*
Trouble.
A simple motto to live by...
Mockery of shared stupidity.
Continually circling
to the timeless tune
of a love struck fool.
A fool, within the rubble.
A fool of love, scavenging for a heart.
A love-sick-fool, standing with empty arms.
Love, it can't be held together with gum found on the bottom of a shoe.
Nor can it survive with lies told by you.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 2:05 PM UTC
A mechanized millennium
studded
with silver rivets hammered from
the once glorious dreams of the populace
They are now all identical.
cylindrical
instruments that pierce the flesh of progress
conformity:
the price paid to advance across the toll bridge
that is "the betterment of society"
But bland and boring can hardly be better
than stark and standoffish rants of individual pipe dreams
They took those too-
the pipe dreams are now piping in the plumbing that runs beneath the streets
we walk all over them.
only half realizing they exist and not half caring
anymore
with spirits that lack luster our
low lackluster dreams are dying
Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 3:10 PM UTC