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Inside out May 2014
Nosey people annoy me
Pompous people bore me,
Pretentious people irritate me
Whilst drunk people irrigate me.
Opinionated people grate me,
Cheating people forsake me.
Sly people irk me
Lazy people shirk me.
Judgemental people cast me,
Bigoted people blast me.
Most people avoid me!
We all judge each other
Nylee Feb 24
I have to lift my thumb
type another word
Use my finger to erase
All my mistakes
A second well spent
A tool better grant
All becoming part of my rant
Simply said
but cannot be conveyed


An uninspiring living being
Nothing is happening
Only two pages of
Not any more in sequence
My identity missing
other time spent grieving
My dreams all lost
I am left alone

A dream of many gifts
What way it went
an unambitious woman
came back
Unwilling
to every thing
Moving the muscle
Even an inch

The same words
dance again
Creativity gone stale
every trial
So daunted by
Ever lack of effort
No improvement
what count to keep
losing the grip

An another day
Come and go by
twenties to thirties
queen of laziness
Unsteady not focused
pretty same letter
I am not getting any better
opportunities run away now
As I step towards the goal

So taken aback
Relenting to every decided fate
a piece of cake
Rock solid one at that
bundling and fumbling
No excuses to my thing
like a diamond never found
never cut or polished
laying just like carbon.
Ferns Jul 2018
The pile of books
The array of papers
They long-await
that ink will pour
on their vacuous
void of emptiness
For the deadline
draws near
Yet I'm still here
Sitting on my windowsill
Lackadaisically waiting
Certainly expecting
For water to descend
From the firmament
surrounded by dullness
where a mass of clouds
are there to be seen
Leo Dubson Nov 2018
Oh, what wonderful ways will I find today,
to thoughtlessly waste my time away.
Muse the Bobbie, Learned and Scrolling Mentor
For screening this Curtain to show our Task
Basic Words you exhume; Trust, a favour
Later allow us with some Sticks to bask
It takes much swallow to go back to School
And strip us bare with Her Majesty's Words
This how you Speak - With a Rod and a Fool
But then, who cares? Forgans are for the Birds
Now all it takes to supple your behalf
Modelled by the Mad Agent done and pleased
We empty our Fillers; and bid Avast!
Upon Graduation your Skills we take heed.
Thank you so much again, Mentor availed
Success is Reward; Laziness is Failed.
Emily May 26
Lying on my couch;
Lying to myself.
Claiming I will work;
Knowing I will not.

Hiding from the world;
Leaving friends alone.
Hating what I do,
Letting my life rot.

When will I decide,
To face life again?
When no dish is clean?
When all food is gone?

I wish, that I had,
Motivation, an
All-consuming force,
Inspiring action.

But, alas, just me.
Too lazy to work,
Too tired to sleep,
Just dissatisfied.
Eryck Mar 2018
Like a tank he barges in
talking loud shaking hands
hard almost mad.
  Yeh thats my dad.
   Your opinions be ******
while his are grand
his advice taken
not To be forsaken
or he'll  be mad.
  That's my dad.
His lessons you'll learn
or you'll  get burned
by the outside world
or some sneaky girl
don't question or you'll end up sad.
That's my dad.
   No laziness or wallowing
his rules are for following
no goofing around
sun up to sun down,
eee  gad!
Yeh that's my dad.
But in the end it's true,
he's the only father that I knew
now he's dead
our family head
He's the only father I ever had.
Yeh that's my dad.
Amoy Mar 25
Coffee stained lips
Kiss of tiredness
laziness seeping through my veins
I cant get out of bed, no!
not today
A World Without Wi-Fi
     »by Megha Elizabeth Koshy.
-------------------------------------
The people in the world
Like machines they go
With tiny commanders
On their palms
At the streets, at the malls
At the office, at the homes.
Some even chattering to their buddies
At the next door!
People behave like dummies
Who carefully keep ears sharp
To there notification  tones,
But never to their mummies!
Kids who pay attention for their
Comments and likes
But never bother to brush their teeth twice!
People are slaves of technology
Like electronic gadgets
If not plugged in they run out of life.
Now just imagine....
A World Without Wi-Fi
For one single day
People may fall sick
And some will even die!
--------------------------------------
This is just the first attempt of mine...please forgive me for the flaws... :)
Luke May 2018
"You're wasting your time."
Familiar line, I'm sure;
Leisure, time you take pleasure
In wasting, fighting off chores

With scores of swords forged in
Words, nouns and verbs, you argue
"I've nought to do, work's been,
I've earned it!" The frayed border between

Toil and sleep, 'spare time',
Your crime is laziness, sloth;
The clock – time's warden – watching
As your lies thicken like simmering broth;

The monitor melts your eyes into half-smiles,
"Wasted time, your pastime,"
A degree in procrastination, hesitation
To face – "the clock, the time!"

The moon hides behind the horizon,
Your fingers flurry, too late to hurry
Out the piece you left so late.
"Wasted time" stinks like left-over curry,

Let it permeate your nostrils; exhale blame
As you **** in the shame that you've failed.
Cradle the melted clock, warm butter,
Spread it onto toast, yellow trails

Crying "why?" Place it between guilty lips
And chew; the taste's bitter.
"It's raining today."
Pitter patter, patter pitter.
A poem about procrastination.
kirk Oct 2018
To impregnate a women, you have to feel the horn
Being soft is not much good, or if your ***** is worn
Many men they want a ****, but don't want babies born
It's best to avoid men like Boyd, because he's low on corn

If you have unprotected ***, and your cocktails on the prawn
Then pregnancy is immanent, unless a line is drawn
Wearing a sheaf is sensible, that's if it isn't torn
Make sure your rubbers in one piece, or watch some ******* ****

****** stimulation can be achieved, when there is a certain need
You soon had some excuses, when your rubber tore at speed
There's no need to lie, because it's just for your own greed
Suddenly your low on ***** after you had your ****** feed

You didn't mind your pleasure, when you layed and did the deed
Some consequences matter, when you know where things may lead
No mention of low ***** counts, you came and spread your seed
Pregnancies have happened, because low ***** counts can still breed

Hay now Boyd I wonder how, your ***** count is so low ?
It seems to me your capable, but you don't want to know
If you can break a ******, then it just goes to show
The only thing you can count, is a free cash money flow

Counting *****'s not easy, was it sitting in a row
Low ***** count is an excuse, for just another ***
Responsibility is not your thing, you want to ***** and go
You don't care you've had your ***, instead of going slow

Avoid Boyd because I think, his low count is a lie
It can get through rubber sheafs, and it doesn't even try
Destroying morning after pills, it looks like his counts sky high
His Low count cant be so low, to kiss pregnancy goodbye

He's implied the kids not his, its enough to make you cry
It didn't bother him before, when he layed in the pie
Now that pregnancies occurred, he's now done up his fly
Suddenly his ***** is low, and that's the reason why

Isn't Boyd just a boy, but with an added D
The laziness of proper names, at least to a degree
What's his parent's thinking of, are they completely of their tree
What's wrong with naming a boy, ben or pete or lee

Is it a bit like catchphrase, where you say what you see
Was there born a baby boy, holding brook bond tea
I don't think Boyd is a real name, but you may disagree
A better name I could supply, and I wouldn't charge a fee

Poor old Boyd his ***** is low, they must be quite annoyed
Their waiting for orders to go, but now there unemployed
Most of them are killed off, and the rest just get destroyed
Not one of those *****'s hanging high, unlike Harold Lloyd

He's claiming that his count is low, he must be paranoid
******* that rips rubber, that's some ***** you should avoid
Combating morning after pills, once his ***** has been deployed
If you value your own dignity, for **** sake avoid Boyd
My tone is necessitated by the sinner who does not listen otherwise. Instead of wasting time with your childish antics you could've been helping them instead of being hostile to me. There will be no excuses for such cowardly laziness at the last day.
Real love vs fake love hate
Concentrate and digest, we move forward
And caress the feathery fingers you have bared too often
We are clever and suggest undefinable formulations
Monkeying around with the substrate of our eradication
I speak elated seances and fancy equations
Which underlie our negated vituperations
A motley array of monkey business
Fizzles in the vaporous mist
It's an evaporated way of saying i love you
We are tender and tangential
We are offended by the examples you forget to administer
In your haste you restate the laziness of a piece of paper towel
To reply to your lengthy confessions
Underneath the premonitions you make
Is something that sounds and tastes quite a bit like honey
Iska Oct 2017
Let me tell you a story.
A Human is walking through woods, where he stops under a tree and gives a sullen sigh. When a beautiful maiden calls from among the leaf leaden branches above,
"Whatever's the matter?"
The Man looks up, startled to see the fair lady in the tree and as she climbs down to stand before him he tells her of his sorrow. His friend was leaving him, to a land very far from where they now stood. the maiden states that many people are often in search of living a life different from the one they are currently leading and asks what else is bothering him.
He states that he's.... lost.
"You spend your whole life looking up at the moon, terrified that you are wasting your life away."
She says, and he agrees.
"Then why not go out and live the life you dream of living?"
He searches for an answer but cannot find one, save for the fact that he feels stuck.
"You are only stuck if you wish to be."
Getting irritated by her wise answers, he asks what life she would lead. The maiden looks up at the many trees towering above them, her eyes watching the light dance with the leaves as she answers,
"I would want to travel, to breathe."
The man states the wishing to breathe is an odd desire indeed. She just kept looking up at the sky as she continued,
"All of these trees are working tirelessly day and night to give us air to breathe. I would make sure that each and every breath had meaning. That with every intake of air carried the taste of adventure and every breath out holds a memory with it. I would try my hardest to ensure that I did not let a single breath go to waste. We all spend so much time ensnared in our small world, dreaming of something more beyond what we know, but refusing to go and seek it out. I wish to not merely exist, but to LIVE."
The man asks why she doesn't heed her own advice,
"Alas," she sighs,
"I am a Tree nymph and cannot move beyond the roots buried deep within the earth, or the tree will die, and I, with it."
Suddenly filled with pity for the beautiful nymph he states that he may know of a spell that could release her from her binds to the tree and allow her to pursue her desire. she then shakes her head and with a small, sad smile, she tells him she could never do such a thing. When he asks why she says
"I have spent my whole life caring for this tree, we are entwined together. To leave it in pursuit of my own dreams, would be leaving it to die. this I cannot do."
The man shakes his head, confused.
"It is simply a tree," he states "there are thousands more just like it."
"Ah," she says, wishing for a way to further explain herself,
"This is not just any tree. Somewhere out there, there is someone relying on this tree to breathe so that they may live their lives to the fullest they can. Weather it be a small child learning to walk and explore this beautiful land for the first time, or may it be an elder who has lived a long life, with many stories to tell, they are relying on this tree and to take it away so that I may go about life the way I dream, would be a selfish thing indeed."
Touched by her selfless sacrifice the man exclaims that it was hardly fair, that so many people remain wasting their lives away within their paper worlds settling for existing due to laziness and fear, while others, are dreaming of the freedom to actually live while imprisoned by their sacrifices.
"Is their no other way?"
He questions, but the maiden shakes her head.
"Well is there any way I can help?"
Her eyes light up and she smiles. A smile that is as warm and bright as the summer sun.
"Why yes, there is. you can go and live your life to the fullest you possibly can, because, you too, are relying on somebody's sacrifice to be free to live. So don't waste it, and when you have aged and grow weary, with snow kissed hair and wizened eyes, share your stories with those who follow. Share your sorrows and your triumphs, and all that lie in between. Start your story here, on the day your sorrows have lead you here, to the Nymph who dreams to live, inspire them to do the same and then I will know that my sacrifice has not been in vain."
Elioinai Sep 2018
Maybe I feel connected with you because you ache in the ways that I do
We both suffer alone
We both quietly long for recognition
We both see our own potential but self sabotage out of fear and laziness
We work when we work hard
But if nothing is pressing us we get nothing done
We both long for affection but somehow you’re more open about your need
While I more openly show affection
We both somehow feel awkward together
Like we can’t figure out which roles to play in each other’s lives
We both feel like big fish in small ponds but then feel ashamed of our pride
I think we both feel like we don’t have a lot to show for all the talent we’ve been given
But really we’re both doing well for ourselves
Infamous one Aug 2018
Writing has become my voice and way to express myself lots of personal growth. I learned to communicate treat others right. I'm very hard working determined but I've crossed paths with people who had more going on but ungrateful. I have to work for mine give my all do twice as much to get by.
I've been freed from all the hurt and the vicious death grip. A failed relationship that bruiser my ego but it happened so I can grow. I was too stubborn to change because I don't like change. I had a go no where job I love but crossing paths with a lazy coworker would become a conflict of interest. I was beaten up and fired for calling this out on their laziness. Like I said I worked for mine why is this person getting  paid to do nothing. Iasked "why me" a good friend would say "why not you are meant for something great."
I held onto this doubt and what I felt not one who likes change but able to adjust and adapt to change.
Jessica May 27
About a month ago I cried because I couldn't find my favourite pair of socks. Last week I cried because I forgot my AP books in my locker, and I couldn't do the homework that I wouldn't have been able to bring myself to do in the first place. Yesterday I cried because my cookies didn't come out just right.

I cry. A lot. About everything.

I have been called everything from oversensitive to a baby to overdramatic. I
mean, haha, I clearly really wanted to wear those socks because now my whole day is ruined. I am extremely good at making something out of nothing.

Being this kind of sad is funny that way, no inconvenience is a minor inconvenience, it's all the end of the world or might as well be.

But I go with it. I joke about my tears and their daily visits.

I also joke about my anger and the chair I kicked resulting in a dislocated toe. I joke about the things I've thrown and the people that make my hands clench at my sides. I joke about it because it's easier than explaining it. I don't like my anger.

So, I've learnt how to turn my angry into lonely and my lonely into busy.
How do I explain that when I say I've been super busy lately, I mean I've been too busy falling asleep because drowning my pillow is tiring.

Depression is a monologue shot underwater, depression is sulking because I won't talk about it anymore.

How can I explain to my friends what is happening inside of my head when I can't even figure it out myself? How do I explain to them that I have been hit by too many people with "how dare you hurt me with your hurt" to not be convinced that I will accidentally do that to them? So we've grown accustomed to sulking. It has become a routine, joking about those ridiculous mood swings of mine.

My depression is a coat disguised as depersonalisation tendencies, "laziness,"
cries for attention and closed bedroom doors behind which continuous music
plays, harmonised with the sound of dripping cries of loneliness.

Of which the belt is anxiety. My psychologist has given it a name: John. Its
supposed to make me feel like anxiety is some exterior force and not something fogging up my entire inside. But he's better known as:

"Sorry.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sorry.”

“I know I'm being annoying."

"Sorry.”

I try not to acknowledge it. So, I leave my pen clicking. hair fidgeting, periods of breathlessness and restless tendencies as just that; inconvenient tendencies. Sorry.

I've been told to pray and trust in faith, but I only wear a religious necklace because if I don't, I go home with a neck scratched raw by John.

I wrap myself in this coat for comfort, which seems ironic. But really, comfort is found in familiar places and it seems I keep losing my jackets of happiness and liveliness, so this coat is all I know.

There are some days I am so sad I don't remember what it's like not to be. Like when you're really sick and you forget how to breathe through your nose and you're so sure you'll never breathe through your nose again and I'm so sure I'll never feel joy again.

Except when you're sick, you can go and get a doctor's note to explain why you couldn't go to school and didn't write that test. I can't tell my coach I missed yesterday's practice because I got hit with a wave of sad. I can't tell you that my homework wasn't done because depression kept me tied to my bed for the better part of the day

My psychologist once told me I was brave to seek her help. I didn't feel brave. I felt scared. And desperate. And lonely. And tired. I am so tired of trying to take care of this terrible body that refuses to take care of me.

My depression doesn't ask for much but when it does it is something I cannot give and that is the joke. It is just me asking for something I cannot give. My friends get mad when I don't give them pieces of me. I can't give them something I'm not sure is there anymore.
Jessica
Chris Feb 3
Oh how I feel the love
All full of blood & mess
Oh how disputes over nothing
Don't seem to mean less

Wondering in deep snow
Avalanches creep through

******* of untouched skin
Soon feel a second heart beat

Though this tempo
Won't last forever

Because of broken laziness
Vinyl grooves on needle pin
Dancing with revolution

Evolving
Then stops by chosen routine
Cut & Bleed
Photo floor pressed
As a bed for fallen knees

At this point
Oh I see now
I am weakness

Awakened by
Undesired reality
An open lid

A chest full & uninspired
Crawling out to feel desired

Oh I feel
Anya Nov 2018
Hey, past me from so close yet seeming long ago...

A knot from my sweater's bow I regret tying despite how unkempt the ribbons look hanging by my sides because now it's digging into my back

The hair I can't decide if I want out where it's pretty and makes me look less like a generic nerd yet gets in my face and food and life

The jeans I insist upon wearing without a belt even though their slipping down my **** may actually outweigh the pain of loosening the belt

The tennis shoes I'm too attached to give up that emit a constant squeak, squeak, squeaking through the hallways whether it's caused by residual rain from outside or not

The glasses, fond of slipping down my nose at frequent intervals, covered in smudges I rarely notice till they get out of hand

The phone whose screen happened to crack at the most inopportune moment and takes forever to read my finger print

The jacket that should be a highlighter blue but rather presents itself as a canvas of the week's tomato stains

The face covered in acne-
The stomach with fat instead of muscle-
The arms lacking muscle-
The legs with too much hair-

I've always acknowledged that perfection is not possible, yet I have to at least try to strive

I think, as I sit at my desk, fingers typing fragmented sentences, attempting to convey thoughts speeding too fast to grasp

Yet, just a simple poem of reflection brings to light these numerous deficiencies, many of which I COULD fix were it not the invisible fiend upon whom I stamp the label-laziness

These deficiencies, many of which aren't even noticed by those around me, some of whom are better some are worse

But it's not as simple as that, I've known I can't just be "one of the people", I need to find something, some identity, some way out of my seemingly impossible to escape label of "just above average"

In academics, in extracurricular activities, EVERYTHING, I seem to be at a stagnant

I've done bad, I've done "just above average", but never above. What is the point if you get plenty of losses and plenty of "fine" but no victories?

It's something about me though, somehow I believe, subconsciously, I'm impeding myself. I'm holding myself back.




...



Why?
A rant. The use of long sentences which I rarely use was inspired by Marie Howe's "What the Living Do".
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