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"lethargically" poems
sip...sip...sip...sip...sip still too hot, I say to myself sip..sip..sip..sip finally cool enough time to drink the warm elixir in no time, there is nothing left I rise to reach pouring till there is nothing, dregs even this is too hot wait...wait... wait...wait... finally I may drink till there is nothing, dregs lazily floating in my cup as lethargically as a resorts lazy river again I rise to reach there's is nothing left, to show now but my shaky hands maybe I should have made tea instead...
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Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 8:26 PM UTC
Coffee
Fill the hollow crevice of my existence With light, show me a warmer way Stop numbness from taking over I am slipping further0 into dismay. Down the senseless pit of despair My direction is out of control Darkness paralyzes my mind Strangling thoughts that crawl and roll Constricting my body until I give up I kick the air but cannot land a blow The empty space will never stop resisting The sound of my own scream has become my foe. The endless void swallows my voice Here the tears I cry fall forever The lies I have told mean nothing now I knew my will was always meant to sever. Faced with nothingness all around This is my life; a big black hole It's slowly shoving me outwards Little by little, pain taking over my soul. Chaos has reality gripped In a tight but unsure grasp Confusing the mass of color And motion contained in its clasp Bullied by the tidal wave of isolation Head above water though it is strong Giving up the ability to move Surviving by the current floating me along. My consciousness is traveling lethargically I no longer feel my torso or limbs Attempt to wiggle a finger but it won't budge It takes all my strength to speak and part dry lips. This is where existence ceases Where time's beginning meets its end An unending loop of monotonous emotions displayed A breif instant in which Eternity life does suspend
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Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 6:35 PM UTC
Fill Me Up
Pots, coiled ropes, orange, blue Laid, at the harbor side, waiting Waiting, for the tide, An old fishing net, laid on the concrete, A weathered sunburnt fisherman, Sitting quietly repairing holes within holes Birds perching patiently on the harbor wall, Waiting In the distance the sun dips towards the horizon Casting a light over a returning trawler The birds lift lethargically from Harbour perch, beat their wings , wheel Towards an incoming meal ticket
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Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
The Harbour
Being lazy digs a huge grave For our peace and won't save A lazy fellow is never brave He is to fate a submissive slave Taking action he will shun Success shows him no affection God gives him no protection He belongs to the losing section A lazy man gets no sweats Tears become his constant assets He uses buts and loses guts He is depressed for lack of outlets He lies lethargically in his bed To be passive, thinks his head Mentally he is almost dead His is a very negative blood Great chances he regularly misses He is deprived of victory's kisses A working mind, he does not possess He never gets success as a bonus His brain is so lazy *** idle Everything is to him a riddle He is afraid of every hurdle His life, fate will finely meddle Work makes him fear and faint Gloom only his thoughts paint Against him accumulates complaint His mind, laziness will strongly taint Progress tells him good-bye He is an unattractive guy His life-river is ever dry Only laziness, he can supply Idleness may be initially jolly But it is not at all holy Angels like it not wholly Unless he starts a venture newly If laziness is away kicked Losses can be wisely licked If laziness is wrongly picked By fate, lazy man is tricked. M V VENKATARAMAN
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Mar 24, 2010
Mar 24, 2010 at 6:25 AM UTC
Being Lazy Makes Life Lousy
Gazing past my somber expression etched upon the windows reflection. Silently observing the snow's caress soft, fragile, cold, much like myself.   Kinship is shared, as I gaze out from my window, observing them cascade, caught in a moment of limbo.   I, just an insignificant snowflake, weak, insubstantial, easy to break. Diminished by even the softest touch, transforming, melting, to lamented sludge.   Many will cast eyes upon my silent fall but with a millions others, I am too small. Tranquilizing, a melancholy presence, lethargically dropping in evanescence.    Some may glance and discover elegance  but rarely can they withstand my elements.
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Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC
Insignificant Snowflake
silk blouses and cotton underwear the nights merge into a sticky soup that falls into the pocket of a sweater i was wearing when they said that death is permanent the voice echoing into the receiver of my first cell phone the wavering tremble of someone in the middle of realms sleep and consciousness turning the other side of the pillow wondering if the smoke in my lungs felt comfortable wonder if the moon sinks lower into your backyard i was never good at distinguishing shadows and when i found myself on the dark side of the mattress; my feet cold and feeble i wondered if you could hear my heart a thousand miles away the fluttering of a drowsy bird, lethargically dragging it's clumsy wings into the plummeting stifle of open air you said my lips were like the halves of a plum i bit them until they bled but it was never as sweet it was never as sweet
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Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 12:35 AM UTC
pragmatic at best, my best
It Was A Warm Spring Day, In Our Downtown Home, White Paint Was Lethargically Pealing, Off The Siding Which Lay Beneath Curling Vines, I Still Remember Your Smile Daddy, Your Coal Colored Hair Lingering In The Breeze, As You Asked Me, "Do You Wanna See?" I Nodded Not Quite Sure What I Was Going To See, You Gently Lifted Me Up, Put Me On Your Shoulders Like You Always Did, And Let Me Peer Inside A Forest Of Vines, And What I Saw Both Frighted And Enchanted Me, Something Completely New, A Little House Wren Who Cradled Her Eggs, And Looked At Me, Her Heart Beating Quickly, "She's Protecting Her Babies," You Whispered, "Just Like I'll Always Protect You" "Hi," I Said And Held Out My Hand, The Little Wren Flew Away And I Sobbed, "Why Was It Scared Of Me Daddy?" "It Was Only Letting You See It's Eggs"
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Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 11:43 PM UTC
The Little Wren--My First Memory
Birthdays are for nostalgia and Kings of the desert Like Moshe, Jesus, and Xander the Great who came and saw and tried too hard to mend some ever important scar that much too late had been left too long to settle in the pyramid of our sleeping parts Birthdays are for reading Hart Crane and in his fashion, an attempt to become indiscriminate as the wind that turns the weather vane atop the roof where snow may fall in an imagined winter, lethargically covering all in it's bitter farewell to Fall as its grave-site is buried by the Winter who loved it most enthralled Birthdays are for thinking about you The voice that remains inside and always before the lights go out and it's the end of my day It's there, indiscriminate and howling just like the wind that turns the weather vane or the imagined winter that only falls on my nearest window pane in the pyramids that sleep beneath my very veins
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Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 3:52 PM UTC
Birthdays are for (pyramids)
it was a dry mojave afternoon, with crows cursing shrilly the streetlamps bearing broken bulbs and the striped cat sleeping in the sun. the wind drew frantic breaths, exhaling dead leaves over the hill and sending the blackbirds spiraling into the sky. a lizard stirred, somniferous almond eyes gazing lethargically over his rock and at the old man on the porch leaning back- impossibly uncomfortable in his rickety wooden chair. his name was Jackson. gnarled gray hair mixed with gnarled gray beard appropriately framing a pinched, ornery visage and tattered clothes adorned his whisper of a body. it was his sixty-fourth year here in the desert- on the fifty-second he'd lost his wife on the fifty-eighth he'd gained a kitten named him Waldrop and let him **** the mice and lizards. 'sixty four years is a long time,' a thought murmured in the back of his head eyelids peeling back to give a cursory glance to Waldrop who was stalking the reptile watching him. he remembered his twentieth birthday when Edna had first said she loved him and he remembered that glorious July morning where she said she was his forever. he remembered the pain of labor down in the factory, and the camaderie with his fellows chewing tobacco and cursing the bosses. he remembered the time spent weeping, but remembered more the time spent laughing in places miles and miles away that now seemed imaginary. exhaustion echoed through tired bones and he wondered who would feed the cat, drooping eyes closing one last time to await the warmth of sunset.
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Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 5:15 PM UTC
stillness & death
it was a dry mojave afternoon, with crows cursing shrilly the streetlamps bearing broken bulbs and the striped cat sleeping in the sun. the wind drew frantic breaths, exhaling dead leaves over the hill and sending the blackbirds spiraling into the sky. a lizard stirred, somniferous almond eyes gazing lethargically over his rock and at the old man on the porch leaning back- impossibly uncomfortable in his rickety wooden chair. his name was Jackson. gnarled gray hair mixed with gnarled gray beard appropriately framing a pinched, ornery visage and tattered clothes adorned his whisper of a body. it was his sixty-fourth year here in the desert- on the fifty-second he'd lost his wife on the fifty-eighth he'd gained a kitten named him Waldrop and let him **** the mice and lizards. 'sixty four years is a long time,' a thought murmured in the back of his head eyelids peeling back to give a cursory glance to Waldrop who was stalking the reptile watching him. he remembered his twentieth birthday when Edna had first said she loved him and he remembered that glorious July morning where she said she was his forever. he remembered the pain of labor down in the factory, and the camaderie with his fellows chewing tobacco and cursing the bosses. he remembered the time spent weeping, but remembered more the time spent laughing in places miles and miles away that now seemed imaginary. exhaustion echoed through tired bones and he wondered who would feed the cat, drooping eyes closing one last time to await the warmth of sunset.
Continue reading...
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The black night’s ebbing tide erased the only remaining hints,   the cresting long ocean swells did not cleanse without a trace. Adrift and lethargically bobbing seaweed entangled teakwood box of water-logged photographs, drowning, surrendered from the heart of the sea Like molted wild feathers cast ashore with the tide to the coarse specks of rasping  sands, Darwin's dream in an emptied  sea-bubble popped, dissipated into its own haplessness, bestrewn about an untrodden seashore   Washed out snapshots of life’s disregarded minutia   enchained to an ordinary forgotten Kodachrome moment left out to the consequences of the ever fickle tides, abandoned happenstance spilled by chance upon another undiscovered world The warped and bloated wooden box encasement, hoary with swollen furrowed woodgrain s,   wearied by an enduring measureless moment adrift; as if an ill-fated message in a misbegotten leaky bottle, corked with marooned good intentions, and images of disappearing dreams flung out shipwrecked in barnacled azure glass beneath a sky so far away someone you used to know
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Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 9:37 PM UTC
Water soaked photographs
Snow Glitters In The Early Morning Light, The Frosty Tears Of Angels, Change The Land--And With It--The Creatures, Stargazers Stare Blankly At The Sky For Answers, The Cloaks Of Shadows Dip Into The Trees, Holiday Trees Loom In Windows, Promising Happiness, But Screaming Voices Pierce Transparent Glass, Frightening The Creatures In The Forest, Snowflakes Lethargically Fall, They Stare At Themselves Floating To Earth, In Golden Irised Eyes, Enchantment Holds A Heart In Soft Palms, A Soul Kissed By Smooth And Pure Lips, A Vacant Feeling Being Filled, A World In A Sub-Conscious Mind, More Rewarding Then Conscious Activity, A World Of Dreams, A World Of Good, A World Of Truth, Don't Make Me Leave, This World Of Enchantment
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Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 8:29 AM UTC
Enchantment
No more time for pain. Tear stains. Or sobs. Shrieks at the top of your lungs! Frustrated fidgeting, Or furious dialect. The true depths of sorrow, unreached yet, Shall remain unexplored. The heights of fury and rage, Shall be another days venture. (Or hopefully never). Visions of disliked visages, Traitorous touches torturing the thoughts, Lustily leaving lover and friend Twitching, Writhing, Boiling, Melting, Rotting, And congealing into a puddle of humanity at the knowledge of their philandering. Numbness sinks through the dermis, Hiding hints of heartbeats, Silencing skins sweet sensations. Breathing, But barely. No time for sensation, Emotion, Expression, Interest, Thought, Muttering, Mentioning, Murmuring, Meditating. Reform some semblance of humanity. No time for languishing, Luridly, Lethargically, Liquefying. Only enough time for a little poetry. And then, Hopefully, Life.
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Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 3:22 PM UTC
No More (time)
I woke up this morning in an orange dystopian world. An eerie darkness filled the room as a faint rusty glow bled through the blinds. Profound silence swept the streets and with it all forms of life vanished. My breath and the beat of my heart were the only things that reassured my existence. A viscosity that of molasses filled the air weighing down gravity itself, or at least it felt like it, as my body lethargically swam back towards the dark depths of the room. The curiosity within me sought external perspective so I dialed into the digital realm. What followed was disheartening to say the least. People from all over questioning if this was the end so nonchalantly, exposing the desolation that’s taken their lives hostage. I ask myself, how is it that we are so quick to **** ourselves? How is it that we’ve grown incredibly numb in a state of great psychological stress? I ask as the answer stares me in the face. Optical dopamine beaming into my cornea penetrating parts of me I thought only I had access too. Altered genetic code, altered state of mind, altered fabric of space and time, altered reality. Still, I cling on to the utopian beliefs that veil my unwavering optimistic heart... and I pray.
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Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 3:51 PM UTC
2049
On wet sand my own hand lethargically drags index nail into unplanned pierced hearts The deep blue babble froths disparaging echoes spume in unison moon lumen proffers effulgent glints of my own frame Imprecise recollections Intone lackadaisical exhalations Plunging my fist into the dune I seek shells to listen to mottled heart None found I drop my curls onto the punctured heart Listening to the ocean’s instead
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Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 8:49 PM UTC
Shell Pulse: She'll Pulse
I briefly stood outside her shelter until I heard her gentle voice speak to me, inviting me to come inside. For me it was a simple yet cautious request, seeing as how we had never met. I put forth my trust in her and slowly parted the silken drapes as I entered. “What is it you seek?” she asked. “I was told to appear here.” “Who sent you?” Hesitantly I replied, “I did.” Her lips formed into a cunning smirk, indicating her willingness to offer me a temporary sanctuary. I told her that I was on a vision quest. She smiled and replied, “Well then, let this be the first of countless enlightened moments for your mind, body, and spirit. Let me guide you into a fleeting realm of pure bliss. Do not be scared, my dear. Close your eyes, and grant yourself total freedom.” I scaled the highest, steepest peaks only to lean over and fall into the bluest of seas, tasting the salt my body unknowingly craved for. I further descended into the sweltering valleys, ceaselessly chasing the echoing screams of Aphrodite. I swiftly shot white, porcelain arrows into the rhythmic, beating sun, causing it to explode and pull me forward into the world I had momentarily withdrew from. I lethargically parted the silken drapes and ventured off. I would soon return.
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Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 6:23 PM UTC
Temporary Sanctuary
It's Rainy Again. The Four Day Storm Is Lethargically Pulling It's Rain Filled Belly Across The Sky. The Air Smells Of Crispness And Decaying Leaves; Dampened By The Warm Droplets Of Water Which Collected Upon Them. The Clouds Cast A Gray Shadow Among The Mist Filled Air, Making Even A Smile Seem Somewhat Gray And Tasteless. The Dawn Is Quiet, The Retreat Of Songbirds Evident, The Scent Of Fall Prominent; Clinging To My Clothing. My Eyes Linger, Tracing The Rigid Edges Of The Storm Above. The Masculine Brim Of The Thunderheads Reminded Me Of The Storm Inside Your Eyes, One I Have Witnessed Many Times. One I Have Danced In, Took In, Loved You In. Though Now, Only A Drought Lurks In The Borrows Of My Soul, For You And Your Storm Have Deserted Me, Leaving Nothing But A Calm And Tangible Gray.
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Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 6:01 PM UTC
The Four Day Storm of Fall (Short Story)
*Scars Masking My Flesh, Fate's Talons Are Sharp And Ruthless, They Aren't Afraid To Make You Bleed* My Heart Deflated, Dreams Sedated, I Thought I Made It, But It Was Just Hallucinated, Thought I Made It Past The Guns, But When I Came Up To You, You Held One, I Started To Run, But You Shot Me Down, You Cut My Lips Making A Permanent Frown, Now There Is A Surreal Pounding In My Crown, As You Try To Make Me Accept Your Apology, You Yelled And Abused, You Left A Me With Some Bruses, And A Permanent **** On My Heart, You Hungry Ghost, In Ways You Were Crueler Than Most, You've Added To My Collection If Battle Scars *Hope Slashed My Wrists, And Sliced My Shoulders, I Sit Here And Wonder, When Will This War Ever End* I'm Terrified, But I'm Not Leaving, I'll Fight In This Warful World, Until I'm No Longer Breathing, While My Heart Is Lethargically Beating, I Will Clean The Wound Where I'm Bleeding, So Don't You Dare, Try To Defeat Me.....
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Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 8:24 AM UTC
Battle Scars
Oh what a life Such beauty why look at the sea of green grasses and leaves each without haste to grow and become just awaiting for your wandering eyes they dance in the wind trying to grasp your attention the sun shines down to warm you and embraces like an old friend the wind comes to cool you in a peaceful lull it whispers the sky a striking blue faint traces of pure white clouds lethargically passing over head oh but what you don't understand is the gift at hand! please look around be grateful for that sun and the wind and all these clouds and all these green newly sprouted plants because simply its all for you a little gift of peace
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Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 6:11 PM UTC
A Gift
I'll be the slumpy man caught on the clotheslines in the wind strung out on powerlines graced by the company of crows and the circling buzzards all hungry for my eyeballs I'll be the slumpy man hung over the sofa draped across recliners trying to dry out before my braincells die out trying to stay awake and sober
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Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 1:50 PM UTC
Lethargically Inclined
Lying in my bunk, the chattering teeth sound like hail stones bouncing off a tin roof. But it's not hailing here. No, not here in Hell. Here in Hell it's putting down a hefty December snow. *Since when does it snow in Hell?* It's summer in Hell. *That must be when it snows in Hell.* Outside, warm tangerine glow and circling spotlights, like blood-driven sharks, illuminate the dead sky. Two chimneys tower over the grounds like erupting brick volcanoes. I open the window to capture a snowflake. One wobbles lethargically into my palm and crumbles into white ash... *Arbeit Macht Frei... Free as a snowflake in the summer breeze*.
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Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 1:45 AM UTC
Snow
I only half do things, Like washing a *** With smears left at the sides. So long as it doesn’t make me sick Or take up space In the kitchen or my mind, Its good enough. Its clean enough. I only write things With a fraction of my heart Sprinkled on a whole lot of obligation Exasperated, reluctant movements That scrape lethargically into words. I love feeling the apathy fade Into an apathy that’s deeper still When I don’t care that I don’t care And I can simply sit And wonder, if one day I will.
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Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 6:42 PM UTC
Indifference
Spindly supports elevate Its be speckled body while thread Outpours from the spiders portly Frame. Swarms of prey Bolt as the spider moves Lethargically, still full from Its earlier meal. Thread ensnares the Frangible flies in their Cowering conglomeration. One by one they are Picked like daisies On a school field, Leaving the spider to sit Back, content with his Play for the day.
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May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 12:53 PM UTC
The watcher
I burnt up on reentry Circle diamonds, raining from my hands Candied memories kept up with me lethargically Sunburnt from too many feelings I seem to see into the past Must be these radio teleplays I hear when I fly Foggy and fast Falling is a more accurate term Piano and guitar with which I rehearse Leaning off the coast with a bottle of Crown Apple Just peeking into states and times With my ever solid monologues And fondness for your hair
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Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
Country Mouth
𝐌ercury, don't worry if rage may succumb your mind; like you could go in flames and may put yourself through excessive fire. Just remember that to move away from the inferno is always worth taking a risk. 𝐕enus, you don't have to be like them. You are glowing on your own. Dance with your own orbit and sing until the dawn. 𝐄arth, my love. You are a diamond. Bright, undestructible and expensive. Bringing fresh showers for the thirsty flowers. 𝐌ars, don't let yourself locked in with the eerie darkness that filled the room as the tarnished glow shed from the sun. Penetrate yourself with dopamine for your body doesn't lethargically swam back towards the dark abyss. 𝐉upiter, what is love if it's conditional? She gave you her heart thus, only sky can contain it. Hold her until the moon aches for you. 𝐒aturn, rings for sale! They're floating outside her atmosphere. Fancy rings and elegant attire! For she doesn't want everyone to judge her that she looks unprivilaged. Why is she like this? Afraid of the judgment and gossip that'll fly. Rings for sale! Rings are here! 𝐔ranus, when you lie next to him at night, do you feel the warmth? Is his smile have his own heaven or you speak through tears? 𝐍eptune, love will be here with it's swirling tides, long after we became unseen. Amour, drink my soul. Fill my body with sunrise that's mixed with green and blue. Clean thyself from the guilt of this unfair streams.
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Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 7:43 PM UTC
Cosmic Moonlight
Sunlight leaks low in the West. A line of brilliant gold clings to the horizon And crowns the ancient peaks in forgotten glory. Day is defeated. Lethargically, It slips from the sky like melting butter, Like a bell-bottomed tear. Declaring dusk, Indigo fills the air. Each sense becomes wrapped in a blue hush, Broken only by the winds soulful cries. Colours deepen. Infinity Is exposed as night sprinkles her constellations Like celestial dust. The touch of cold stone pulls me home. Somewhere, a wild cat calls to the moon And the chimney offers smoke to the sky.
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Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 4:44 PM UTC
October In Stratherrick