"lamely" poems
out of body, out of mine
floating lamely
doormatted to the floor
peripherals in my head
always find you
i can wish, i can dream
but i promised to leave
and you don't love me
i lied, i can't prove it
please, i know i'm crazy
but i'm not dumb
"now you're heartless
and i'm done"
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 1:39 AM UTC
Walking in dim thoughts
with the sound of rain outside.
The dripping pattern takes
me on a pitter-patting journey.
I'm neither here, nor there,
and yet somewhere
I must be.
Craving to be healthy,
in mind, body and soul.
Content perhaps?
Aware of who I am
and who I will
always be.
Is anyone like this?
Really?
Or are we a collected
mass of android
arms reaching
lamely for
robot parts?
Artificial emotions that
fester out like
***** mud shoes left
in the hallway.
We yawn internally
to avoid the truth
that we are bored
with one another.
Raindrops continue, as
does my doubting heart
as it wraps around
the possibility of
funerals and
Requiem Masses.
Long faces and
sighing masking
the indifference
of striving.
Together in mood
but far apart
in disposition.
Carry on, rain,
carry on. Slip
your wetness
against the dry spell
of my perception.
I can see. Or, I can
close my eyes to
imagine that the
tomorrow of thought
becomes the infested
reality I will be living.
I spend too many
careless storms wishing
for other days to arrive.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 2:49 PM UTC
She kept her songs, they kept so little space,
The covers pleased her:
One bleached from lying in a sunny place,
One marked in circles by a vase of water,
One mended, when a tidy fit had seized her,
And coloured, by her daughter -
So they had waited, till, in widowhood
She found them, looking for something else, and stood
Relearning how each frank submissive chord
Had ushered in
Word after sprawling hyphenated word,
And the unfailing sense of being young
Spread out like a spring-woken tree, wherein
That hidden freshness sung,
That certainty of time laid up in store
As when she played them first. But, even more,
The glare of that much-mentionned brilliance, love,
Broke out, to show
Its bright incipience sailing above,
Still promising to solve, and satisfy,
And set unchangeably in order. So
To pile them back, to cry,
Was hard, without lamely admitting how
It had not done so then, and could not now.
3.2k
flesh smirks cautiously
silent beehives squelching elk
leaps glumly, mules snarl
bluebird builds, rigid
foundlings disappear lamely
incarnations peck
raw conjurers acts
devious shady agile
rosemary boasts, stare
starflower hovers
depression gives birth snidely
harps romping mustang
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 5:22 PM UTC
I used to hear the word
"Holy..."
And immediately, Ratman or
Bobbin would lamely
Limp into my mind.
1960s Shtick
Shtuck in my
Noggin, until...
I met a Holy Man
Whose name means
Either
"Asleep" or
"Wild Man"
Anyhoo,
He was/is/
From just past
Detroit
Cross the Border,
Bordering Cross.
He spoke of the
HOLY SPIRIT
That part of God Who
Which
Communicates with us
And us, HIM...
Of an unquenchable
FIRE that yearned,
Burned
Churned in the hearts of
His Children.
His smile was wide,
His eyes, shining, but...
But his words soon after
(Were not his own)
Not natural, but
SUPERNATURAL
From the Great
I AM.
The Lord Jesus Christ
Spoke inside this man's
Heart, Soul,
Mind, Body-
Spirit Holy.
his
(HIS)
words
(WORD)
Were written in
Indelible ink
Upon the surface
Of my
(sinful)
Human heart.
We
Had never met before
Our paths
(Crossed)
But he knew, He
Had a VISION.
He shared it with me.
Now when I hear
"Holy..."
I no longer think of
That common Red-
Breasted avian creature, but
The man whose
Breast and
Heart were on
Holy Cleansing Fire,
That burns brightly
Still
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
For every bit of advice on the matter
For every warning and caution against it
He would still give his heart like a fool if he could
But time has made him bitter
Time has given him every moment he needed
To become wary of what he tells others
He has become a secretive creature
When it comes to those matters deepest to his concern
True, he sings and dances and seems carefree
True, he seems loving and compassionate
But inside he is as cold and sad as any might be
Too many times he has been lured to trust
Each time he has suffered for obliging so
Every hope for intimacy he has seen crushed
Every dream of companionship he watched shatter
Until only the one thing that gives him joy is left unstained
He has tried and tried to burn away the roots
Of mistrust, doubt and suspicion that have grown in him
That coiled and bound and climbed around his heart
Transfiguring him into a blind and numb man
Changed him as greatly as a storm does the coast
Made him afraid of all the capricious good of life
The changing tide of existence became his bane
So that he hides behind a terrible, glorious, painted mask
People see of him the truth he wishes to obtain
Thinking that perfect bliss in life is already his own
Believing that he may be so happy and do so alone
Not seeing how he craves to trust and feel it is well placed
Seeing instead a man who fears nothing for the lack of secrets
Not seeing the man who is unhappy in loneliness
Only viewing the caricature of his abandoned ambitions’ success
And he was worn the lie so long that is the only truth
His heart has turned to dust and gone
His soul sputters lamely against the sea of life
Too long he has waited to forgive and say it is so
Time has made him a hollow beast with a hollow shell
He will act and act alone and never be at ease
He will suffer and suffer alone and never know friends
He will die and die alone and have forgotten love
There will never be meaning to his words or deeds
He will never again have a soul to define himself with
Jul 24, 2010
Jul 24, 2010 at 5:00 PM UTC
Do you remember that date,
It was 27 April the year '13,
And it was really very late.
We had a communication-gap cropped-up,
An unavoidable communication-gap it was,
Some misunderstandings had cropped-up.
Though both had our respective liabilities,
I had been overtly angry much to your fears,
I'm still sorry for what I said had brought tears.
I had lamely prophesized in anger,
When we had a no-fun word-war,
I had said very dramatically,
That you'll be married,
Exactly 7 years, 7 months & 7 days later.
Even you yourself were upset at that time,
And we didn't talk for many days.
You felt cheated & even I felt scandalized.
We knew that this tiff will have to end one day,
So we sub-consciously thought we'd test ourselves.
Maybe we knew that it'll end someday if not that day.
Because we are like our favourites Tom & Jerry,
Fighting very seriously but loving all the way along,
So probably that too is an indispensable part of love!
We have laughed it over and left that tiff back,
But hey that prophecy must come true!
Not at all like that you should worry about it,
About having to marry somebody else,
It will be me only who marries you!
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 7:31 AM UTC
nerves stalk the battlefield, strangling,
only to beat out another breathe. only
to continue limping lamely and
timidly, I wander
home, holding my own
body bag. Tongue tied and
Toe-tagged:
forfeit!
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 3:42 PM UTC
Am I in Love?
At night, laying sleepless,
I bemoan the treacheries of life
with my love
and appreciation....
And though,
in my dark,
and cavernous foundations;
Roar the pillars of stone,
and shake them.
Waked,
by curiosity,
and interest,
I stare intently at you,
and though I cannot see,
You are there.
Tangible,
by my creativity,
and invisible,
by my negativity.
And through the secret game
that to many, has forbidden name
we speak.
Fear,
and pride,
my greatest hatreds,
now run through me,
though the game of
Predator, and Prey.
I am the prey,
of myself,
in the black vapors
of my confusion,
you two rought me
with confusion
elaborate,
and woe,
despicable.
My thoughts now strand
off into many divisions,
all joining together,
to reveal my fear,
of disappointing you.
The thing we connect through bings,
and so we remain in contact, it seems.
But ever, we thought beautiful
I am marred, and proved untruthful.
You do not deserve me,
but somehow
in this void-feeling heart of mine,
I sense you care.
I care.
Am i in love?
My Mind craves you,
and I put much emphasis on that,
for that, might,
just might,
be my undoing.
Should I look to the East,
to find you, riding, in
shining, and metallic armor,
And see only dust clouds
roam aimlessly from North to South.
But I hear banners, in the West,
all risen high,
as high hopes,
and high spirits,
to guide them.
This, is what I've waited for,
for years,
as do we all.
But my misinterpretations,
now lead the banners,
with silver swords,
bearing the name of hate.
with this,
I deserve only
to lay my head down,
lamely, for you to hew it
from me, and call it,
Victory.
This, I forsee,
this unsensible
and crazed
sight,
that passes through me,
and guides me
to all darker paths of light.
So that I may be dimmed,
and in a cycle refrained,
I should, as a doomsayer,
say my doom,
and I, as a fool,
should subconciously make that true.
This is what I see.
I fear, for you,
and fear,
for me.
I burden all, though a child
and my will is heavy, upon you,
and wild, is my desires
and should you penetrate my curtains,
you should see,
the cold bitterness, of my truth.
But all the while,
mind and soul crave you,
and body revives,
slowly,
but surely.
I sense love,
and my stomach churns,
knowing I shall hang my head
in Guilt.
Am I In Love?
Jul 10, 2010
Jul 10, 2010 at 3:26 PM UTC
Time is the biggest
Word of All.
It lamely, gamely
Tries to act like
Olympus Mons,
That Great Mars Mountain,
Thunder-towering three times
Mightier and Grander than
Our Nepalise Everest.
(Or so the
Philosophers hope)
Time seems so looming,
So enlongated, stretching
Summer-like, back when
Summer was more than six
Measly weeks long;
Time is measured, and sweet,
Like sugar,
Being with the one we love
When time seems to slow,
To languish, like the non-
Breezy lassitude winds
That the sails of ships
Hate most of all.
But when the one we
Love, like, tolerate;
Are indifferent toward,
And absence does not make
The bitter water leaking
Out of our eyes,
Brows furrowed in visible
Pain, Time
Becomes a different
Breed of beast;
Time is salt, bitter, hard,
Crystalline, sharp-edged,
Not a poultice, nor a
Salve, but fresh seawater
Reigning down upon the
Open wounds of our broken,
Shattered hearts.
Each intake of breath
Like glass poking
Our insides, each
Exhalation
Yet another reminder
That time spent away
From love isn’t
Time at all.
Time is what someone
Had to call something
As yet so infinitely
Indefinable, yet-
Define things, categorize things,
We Humans do, because of
Our strange natures compel us.
Time is absolute, and
Absolutely nothing,
And absolutely
EVERYTHING.
And, to the still-beating heart
That can bear not one more
Oxygenated globule of red
Red blood, time
Becomes the clock which
Could not bear to fully
Show its face to us
Whilst we lived, and,
Upon the dying of our bodies,
The drum in our chest
Beating its beat no longer,
The twin-air-sacs
Now vacuumed:
Time announces itself as only
Becoming real when we
Aren’t.
Time is better defined
Irony.
The most genuinely
Phony collection of
Individual and barely-connected
Symbiotic symbols
Ever conceived by a
Single collective mind.
It’s all we have
And then all we don’t.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 1:00 PM UTC
yet we creep up silent as shadows
intent on unburdening our weights
heavily they sit on your slumbering brow
seeping into your unsuspecting ears
whispering in no language but our own
and yours
unlocking the doors
you have no way to bolt shut
pleasing ourselves with your displeasure
secure only about
unbalancing what you so carefully stacked
too high at night
scuttling about with our black sacks
full of your empty thought
where bad is thick with luck
try as you might we bid you wait
like ropes dangling freedom to wrath
cutting through swathes of long grass
to find the well beaten paths
abandoned by weak arms
lamely lying limp as sloths
beyond recall in pits of harm
which with a slight push
we slip you down
your bedroom window open
thinking that would keep us away
but our breath is shallow
faces there in an unblinking sway
emerging with more than you know
for you are the fool to be this way
ready to meekly follow
asleep and at our mercy
hahaha hello
we revel in your past
misdemeanours too small
mountains you cannot surpass
weep as many demons as you will
we travel the underpass
shoulders heaving against our pull
tattooed trees
skirts stained from trailing ghouls
yes we sink into listening with you
oblivious to surreal screams
padding ever closer on queue
staging midnight soliloquies
footprints elbowed from view
on the side of your bed sheets
you'd rather not go
yet we whisper no threats
we're only dreams you know
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
It is necessary to march blindly, panting, even stumbling lamely, like a limp, beaten dog, still here on this earth into uncertain, gloomy tomorrows. My blind, easily manipulated soul trembles at the same time, half-heartedly, lamely, because now again, more and more, seven-trial rascals, no-man's-land thieves, new Szeleburdish petty-knights of reproach are rubbing themselves to their liking, some of whom the Present makes brainwashed and infected and some are merely disordered memories.
Once again, common sense has been trampled into the mud, everything beneath it is suspicious-false, because there is no longer a chance for a sincere true word, nor for a trust that firmly questions itself. Now, even a few sheep have been raised to be sufficiently humble, herded, so as not to bite a few privileged ones. The dreamy macaw no longer murmurs a dignified yes under its botoxed catfish mouth, because first the new husband should show his checking cards and his occasional merchant wealth, which he has collected with stamps.
Now the permanent filth is still accumulating and flowing down below, like sewage laden with feces. No matter how many times that secret, inner voice speaks back in the secret cave systems of the soul, the rusting cogwheel brain would in vain grasp what it is that it can still surely lose; because secretly - perhaps - it has long been robbed of human dignity, not to mention other rights.
Error and blind faith nowadays simultaneously justify a cheater, an assassin, a robber, while the simple man would perhaps be better off hiding in the gaping pits of Dante. A person would like to be ready for a sure escape for a long time; As a wandering earthly wanderer, he would perform his selfish, begging round dances for Existence, but who can beg for his life at the same time?!
Sep 7, 2025
Sep 7, 2025 at 12:16 AM UTC
amidst cavorting delightfully, enjoying thorough
frolicking gingerly, foreign hick hating slo
hip-hopping insouciantly sustaining row
biological status quo
kvetching lamely moreso mother became pro
naturally physically rumbling,
heard all the way in Oslo
supposedly twerking, undulating vivaciously
wantonly x2c wisely yielded – nada no
zona pellucida anchored byte size ******
potent embryonic fetal moe
newlweds nocturnal merriment
moma's ****** marked march 1959
lovingly joyusly, insemination happened ha low
bullseye clenched diploid fertilization
guaranteed germinating heiress
while squaqking lichen Apache at Diablo
ma late mother did should know
upon awakening upon tautly stretched exertion
during dilating ****** which jiggled like jello
three score orbitz round el sol, warmed cockles
and muscled away brutally cold degrees
tab billed an igloo,
or circa six decades
drafted exuberant ho...ho...ho...
cuz, i.e. thencee at 362nd day
baby in belly did fully grow
December first nineteen fifty seven
sanctioned newly minted papa
to sing a capella for he's a jolly good fellow
quintessential nascent
kickstarter heady everflow
though wintry dark,
a “hi” beam illuminated
newborn girl with dayglow
sans, mechanical engine ear
papa (an honorably discharged army vet)
all spit and shine groom,
who wed a bride somewhat callow
first time parents with giddiness did saul fully bellow
Boyce and Harriet Harriet countenance
twas (like an elf on Christmas eve) all aglow.
--------------------------------------------------------
Dear Sis – I knew not what else to do
thus, this poem crafted fur ewe
a doe ting maternal gal – whose time on Earth flew
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 1:09 AM UTC
within my walk an ocean sloshes
within galoshes to the drag of
two muffled feet past wonderlands
but with eyes under - galoshes over wonderlands
and yarning-balls of lads pry at my vast inertia
and wonder why they for gravitas
and decorum and the bouncing of a high pompadour
cannot shake spray or splutter
what we were vast weights -
lest we change or (worse)
gets better
through wet feet but drying calf
blazing with hypothermia
sloshing-still
through the lucid air of a vast globe tied-
to a wast treadmill round and walking
lamely talking, for the trip
dries stagnant and still the tides
bow to my mammoth galoshes
and Hercules to my panoply
while up your thumbs
and down your *****
are shrugs only
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC
I've never been attracted to girls, no, not me.
I've never wanted to kiss a girl --
The kiss on the cheek I gave my best friend in kindergarten doesn't count...
But I wanted to kiss you and that scared me.
We were just sitting with our friends at lunch when you sat next to me.
You said,
"Hi!"
I said,
"What's up?"
You just shrugged and pursed your lips,
"Nothing much."
My mind shut off for a minute.
I traced your lips with my eyes.
My God, you want to kiss her!
They looked soft, covered in pink lipstick.
You want to know what they feel like under yours!
They were perfect, really.
Where did THAT come from?!
At first, I thought I was simply noticing.
Far more than noticing, don't ya think?!
But then again, I don't notice everyone's lips...
My mind rebooted like a computer hard drive.
I lamely replied,
"Yeah, same here."
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 9:51 AM UTC
How can I phrase this?
Lamely laid - I've paid my way to my own grave, but I changed
Transformed
It's the day I will exclaim in pity pools and parade budded skies
My lovely hearts are carried to fry
It's why?
It's city kings and big boxed lords sitting on lards of lush and luxury
Delivering to the mouths and blistering our hearts
And keeping the steel wall closed from ourselves - we become the consuming generation
Airdropped from to the earth from a contained hedonistic lair.
We grow in every way and grow through every day
Listen...
Look...
Feel.
Can you digest what you see?
Can you see, the cruelty painfully pushed as a casualty
Covered like up like a felony
Treated like no biggie
Thee eyes no nothing of what they see
Their story is morphed
And no one wants the truth
So we sit in silence
Until the world sees what I see - justice
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
I'm writing a poem that rhymes
This is it - rhyming this time
This is me writing a poem
About writing this poem
I'm very aware that you know em
My words as I'm writing this poem
I just tap the button
A repetitive glutton
B-U-T-T-O-N-S
Yes!
I did it again
But this time with capital and hyph-en
When I write my poem I think
This is really is starting to stink
It's like being a kid
And having one of those stupid
Conversations that never ends
The ones that you have with your friends
where you say "I
Know you are, but what am I?"
It's like walking between two mirrors
Infinitely repeating but with errors
Image
Faded image
More faded image
Even more faded image
Even more fadeder image
I'll have to stop there I think
This is really is starting to stink
It's like being a kid
And having one of those stupid
Conversations that never ends
The ones that you have with your friends
where you say "I
Know you are, but what am I?"
It's like walking between two mirrors
Infinitely repeating but with errors
Image
Faded image
More faded image
Even more faded image
Even more fadeder image
I'll have to stop there I think
This is really is starting to stink
It's like being a kid
And having one of those stupid
Conversations that never ends
The ones that you have with your friends
where you say "I
Know you are, but what am I?"
It's like walking between two mirrors
Can you trap a witch between two mirrors?
Ive just remembered I'm writing a poem
What am I going to show 'em?
I'll reread it
(Returns to start) - it's ****
I've just rewritten the same poem!
But I've shoved in words lamely to make it Rhyme
Cringe
I'll try again without rhyming
I'm writing a poem...
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 5:39 PM UTC
I stumble through the darkness,
Outstretched hands fumbling lamely,
Terror bubbling inside of me,
A lack of direction in the unknown.
Then a glimmer of light begins to glow far away,
A candle flickering silently,
Too far to touch,
Almost too far to see,
A pin ***** in nothingness,
Yet, I know.
And I carry on toward it,
With unwavering determination,
My fear becomes courage,
And the darkness becomes but an obstacle,
A test of will,
On my journey to the light.
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 5:03 PM UTC
The Missing love
This is the sunrise of your life, booming voice hollered,
what do you mean, silly man it is raining outside,
well – lamely now- you are alive that is something to
celebrate; you are right I have got everything, house
car and all that, but wish I had someone to love and take
care of. I will drive down to the lost canine place and see
if there is a dog that needs me. Not any dog, say, a puppy
I haven't got the patience to train one the dog must be
about five years old and preferably a house trained *****
It must be an older dog because I’m old so when I die
The dog will hopefully die to of old age too.
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 12:57 AM UTC