"lackthereof" poems
I perused your pictures
I got rid of the one we had.
You knew that.
I do this thing, I realize,
Where I get homesick
For hearts that I thought were similar to mine
If we were really present,
In this reality that we call home,
I'd remember the heartache
the hurt
the harsh words
the pain
the misery
the mixups
the ***
the lackthereof
And I'd remember that the "you" I'm recalling
Is not you,
but in the quaintest reality,
the person I had hoped I was dating.
And I'm at this weird impasse,
staring at your pictures,
Realizing that I'm staring at a person
I never really knew,
and worse,
a person that never knew me.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 2:05 AM UTC
Whoseforest
flames hail,
so They wail
in Whoseforest.
the smog of it all,
has the system dull
in Whoseforest.
wails of help resound,
but are Their voices really found?
a peasant man’s dime too little,
a wealthy man’s dime too many.
lackthereof
the kings lounge
as scorn rages
and rages
and rages
in Whoseforest.
the peasants beg,
“your majesty!
choking up
our lungs,
Their lungs,
Her lungs.
this tragedy
is one of ours
of yours
deploy a strategy
have you not?”
the kings sit
with the wealthy
sipping tea
eyes lit
with lax smiles.
but just like Them,
their voices go
unfound.
peasant, wealthy, royalty
all born and bred
of the same ancestry
brothers cry,
but brothers stray
They too,
both and bred
of their ancestry
but descendants soon
fall flat
mother nature now speaks,
“for we are all born and bred
of the same hearth
should it not be our earth
to love and share?”
She,too, wails
for Whoseforest.
so tell me now,
whose forest?
Jan 9, 2020
Jan 9, 2020 at 1:30 PM UTC
At times I shake my head at my own actions
or lackthereof too clearly seen in my reaction
Am I not allowed benefit of the doubt
for this common transgression?
As if you would gloat in the same situation
in which you plausibly have been.
You would never really present,
would you?
I thought as much and I'll walk willingly
while I wait for your hubris to just **** you,
wait for you to just **** you.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 2:19 AM UTC
Blue
Why do we taint such a beautiful color with our sinful emotions?
Sadness, overwhelming feelings of despair all of which this color has to bear
"The most human color"
Why?
Humans are creatures of red
The harsh words of anger or fiery fits of passion
It would be more fitting to **** such a brutal color to this fate
Blue is nothing more than an innocent child, caught in the clashing crosshairs of the human mind
As we desparately try to identify
Associate
Define ourselves
How can you describe you?
Why blue?
What of black?
The emptiness fits. The dark scribbles in circles of rage that could go on for days
It would be a perfect human color
Then again black isn't really a color
But lackthereof
Sort of like the true definition of us
Void of anything concrete, eluding us to yet more questions
No answer
So I guess blue it is, for the simple reason of just because
Blue lips
Blue veins
The colors of our planet from far far away
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 3:02 PM UTC