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Pathetic soul Jan 2018
I’m loveless,
With every holes on my sleeve,
That begging me to rip the shirt off.
Indicating me,
That they are just as loveless as i am.
Might as useless as well.
So, i’m loveless.
With every breath that i take,
That getting heavier and ragged each second.
Telling me to stop running,
And trying.
The night and the day,
They keep telling me to leave,
They forbid me to sleep,
As every time i woke up,
I’d be the loveless person i will always be.
So they said i must leave.
Last, i’m loveless.
With every step that i take,
With every pressure on my shoulder,
With every blood on my nose,
Will someone ever turn their head,
And simply ask,
“Are you okay?”
Just to stop me from leaving.
So, are you okay?
Butch Decatoria Apr 2016
David-sculpture  Eros' wings
Lovelorn youth in search of Spring
his only hope in traveling
a peace from broken promising
poetry's earth-shattering sage
magic an optimistic stage

Loveless : puppet to self-worth,
Lovelorn still has yet to learn.

Love defends as guilt will fight
lessons of fires and appetite
Loveless is insatiable to hide
new ecstasy festooned with pride

Loveless will wail and cry
Lovelorn wakes free to fly

learning that love is self sacrifice
yin and yang so prophesied:
gifts to waking minds sublime
all seeds are sown in fields of time...

As Loveless screams his agonies
wide eyes drool over magazines
Lovelorn runs piningly
for more to always feel at rest,
for something golden as the sun

Loveless could care less,
empty having none
defeated before having won?

Love defends as guilt will fight
Both will weep when they see the light...

Tears from Less will burn regret
'Lorn lets flow to Openness
peace of mind knows happiness

both alone yet never so
and when two meet
as One will teach :
burying all the misery,

both similar with their sorrows
all must wake up now--tomorrow.

Alone or less, love will be
found in fields of dreams that sing
*David-sculpture / Eros' wings.
A muted silent melody
A vacant chained cage
The loveless awaits a remedy
With muted silent rage

It wanders around an essence
Clings to broken loveless pleasures
In hope one accepts its presence
It wanders still a muted treasure

A loveless soul dances to a blank tune
Looking for loves elixir, its eyes catch a mind
With steps of silence under a muted moon
Once loveless, this soul dances for love it finds.
Andrea Diaz Dec 2011
Childhood,

                   Such sweet everlasting blindfolded years.
          Where, we didn’t care who you were
                   We didn’t care where you from
                   We were just happy to have you as a friend.
Where the only type of love we yearned for
          Was the one given by our mother and father

How I remember those wonder-filled days,
          Where the only thing we whined about was,
                   Having more sweets and staying up later.
          Where the only thing we whished for was,
                   Having two front teeth and
                   Wanting to grow older.

Wanting to grow older so we could,
                   Buy a magical car to take us anywhere in the world!
Wanting to grow older so we could,
Buy whatever we god ****** felt like buying without our parents questioning our insanity!

But…
          What was so great about growing up?
Heck, when we got to that stage in our life,
We wished that we could build a time machine to go back to the past and relive those simpler days.

BUT!
          ITS TOO ******* BAD SUCH A THING DOESN’T EXIST!
          It’s too ******* bad that we live in a world of reality where it crushes our fantasy
          It’s just…
                   Too god ****** bad,
                             That when we grow older, our hearts grow wider…
                                      And the love we receive from our parents…
          Just isn’t enough.
So,
          Let me formally introduce my self,
          I am the loveless creature
Who was always told never to look at the  Moon,

Because it would forever remind me of me and you.
Because when ever I did look at the moon,
          I’d cry at its beautiful presence
Because its so ******* elegant to look at
          Yet its too god ****** far away to be with.
I couldn’t be like the stars that always surrounded its elegance
I couldn’t fly up to the moon because every time I tried,
          I ended up falling after breaking through Earth’s atmosphere
          Crashing and burning onto the ground.

Because I,
Am like many lonely hearted, hopelessly romantic, empty hearted people in Earth’s room who always wanted the warm fuzzy feeling of someone holding their hand
Of someone holding them in their arms
Of someone just being there for them when their world is crashing down on them.
I,
Am, like many people who have those awkward weird feelings of seeing everyone around them coupling off one by one,
Leaving you stranded all by yourself in a lonely corner entitled “Loveless Creature”

Yet,
          In that corner,
                   I always saw that devilishly looking moon
That always ******* stared down at me because I would never be able to reach the skies and become a star so I too can surround its elegance.
And I am always fearing that this dark corner I sit in
          Would forever become my “home” because I feared that
          I will forever remain a loveless creature.
Because I will always be a loveless creature…

So,
Can I please go back to those beautifully filled childhood days where all I ever required and needed was the love I received from my parents and even the graceful loving moments being surrounded by friends who never coupled off

Can’t my corner be a little bit brighter?
          So I can endure the pains of being an empty hearted creature?

Because, walking through those cruel ugly hallways
          Is just making me suffer.
Because, seeing that god awful moon
          Is just causing unwanted tears.

Heh,
          I guess its just the feelings of a loveless creature.
So,
Allow me to apologize to my friends who already found someone to complete them because I am unable to feel truly happy for you.
I am sorry that when you say, “I love you as a friend,” it never really filled the emptiness in my heart,
And for ******* cramping your style,
Because I cannot truly smile
Sorry for being entitled as the loveless creature,
And for having ****** up emotions
Sorry for crying when I looked at the elegant moon,
And for reading to you to you a disgusting depressed poetry about how ridiculously loveless I am!

And…
For those who are lonely hearted, hopelessly romantic, people who need to fill that empty void in their hearts,
Sorry that we all mostly feel the same
And that life put us in this cruel game,
But…
          Maybe in the future, not so far…
          We will become a star,
          Shinning ever so brightly
          Next to the one elegant moon
          That will forever complete that emptiness in our hearts.
Traveler Apr 2016
Post for me
A loveless poem
In the key forgotten
And forever alone
In a cadence of disaster
Innocence expunged
Post for me your
Most Dejected one

Post for me
A loveless poem
All your darkness
Carved in stone
Broadcast live
The sins denied
From the dark place
Where you hide

Let loose now
Your nobody knows
Your most shameless roll
Your damaged soul
Post for me
Your loveless poem
I swear to you
I'll forgive us both...
Daemon Delano Jan 2019
Please forgive me
My dear loveless
Broken hearted
Ember of the sun

I still love you
My dear loveless
Broken hearted
ember of the sun

When I was gone
And I lost you
I learned you’re the one

My dear loveless
Broken hearted
ember of the sun
I will love you
Now and forever
But I have foiled our love

Now you’ll hate me
I’ve forsaken thee
My dear loveless
Broken hearted
ember of the sun

My dear loveless
Broken hearted
Ember of the sun

I remember
how we felt there
In each others arms
So completely
So safely
Each other’s star

So as you go on
living and loving
Think of me the same
Your clumsy wallflower
Your Crazed albino
I am yours til the end.

I wish the best for
My dear loveless
broken hearted
Ember of the sun
wrote this along January 11th 2018 originally. It killed me leaving someone I loved thinking I was doing right by both of us. But I ended up hurting us both more than I helped. I actually think we died inside almost completely. I'm still trying to gather the pieces and attempt to love again.
jeffrey robin Apr 2011
and as this OLD AGE day
winds down

the loveless love poems shriek

the loneliness is unbearable

corpses of children
are
everywhere

----

the class war moves on
and we

are at the end of all civility

and too numb and dumb
to do a thing

----------

loveless love poems

---------

the corpses shriek
the plundered earth gasps

-------

i thin the l.a. lakers will win
the b-ball championship

----------

loveless love poems

SHRIEK
jeffrey robin Apr 2011
and as this OLD AGE day
winds down

the loveless love poems shriek

the loneliness is unbearable

corpses of children
are
everywhere

----

the class war moves on
and we

are at the end of all civility

and too numb and dumb
to do a thing

----------

loveless love poems

---------

the corpses shriek
the plundered earth gasps

-------

i thin the l.a. lakers will win
the b-ball championship

----------

loveless love poems

SHRIEK
Jordan Rowan Jan 2016
Loveless *** breeds happiness
With your legs wrapped around a chest
Have you now achieved success?
Does it feel like you know best,
When you just have to accept
Whatever they say?

It must be over now  
I can just tell somehow
Learn a job at the plow
For that's all you do now
Can you smell the future now?
It must be close
For I see no sweat on your brow

Has it led to the farm
Where money grows like ******* charms?
Speaking of, I spoke to them
They don't like it when you bend
Maybe you should stand up straight
And learn to make love and how to wait
It doesn't feel like you're hard to shake

Age is just a number that,
Shows how long you've survived
It doesn't say you're bound for fame
Or even worth enough to stay alive
Come back home to mother and father
Where they can't complain about your bother
Your mouth tells of stories though
They're only true to you
Icarus Jun 2010
loveless
lustless
lifeless
listless

loveless
listless
lustless
l­ifeless
Asphyxiophilia Jul 2013
He was the epitome of a loveless boy, and he knew it. In fact, that was what kept him restlessly awake most nights, especially on this particular evening. He glanced down at the dark mess of hair that was laid across his chest and listened to the soft emission of peaceful breathing slipping from the lips of the girl whose name he did not remember. For a second, he debated on searching the dark corners of his mind in an attempt to remember it, but he soon realized he never even bothered to ask. This disappointed him for one reason - it was another question mark that he had to add to the list of names that he kept pinned to the front of his brain. At the thought of this particular list, he felt sick, as though an ounce of regret had seeped into his stomach and spread like an infection and now threatened to rise like bile. He knew he needed to keep it down, so he leaned over his bed and wrapped his fingers around the neck of the glass bottle he kept hidden in the bed springs. He sat back up and slowly unscrewed the cap, his eyes mesmerized by the amber liquid that swirled around the bottom half like a whirlpool of gold. He brought the top to his lips and tipped it back, filling his mouth with the warmth of forgetfulness and feeling as it burned his throat like fire the entire way down. It instantly washed him clean of every bad memory he had done his best to forget for the past week. Every tear that every girl had shed on their knees in front of him, begging him to love them; every cigarette that he had chain-smoked on the rooftop of his apartment building in an effort to cloud these very memories (unsuccessfully); every streetlamp that he had found solace in as he walked the streets mindlessly at three am, searching for answers that never came to him. He closed his eyes and imagined the whiskey rising inside of him until it leaked into his lungs and filled them, drowning him. He held his breath, pondering how long it would take for him to go lifeless in this position. But the sudden stop in the rise and fall of his chest caused the female lying on it to stir in her sleep, draping her arm around him and pulling him even closer. He felt sick again so he took another sip. He knew that when he looked back on this evening, he wouldn't remember it, which was becoming a classic move on his part. In fact, his life had become nothing more than disconnected nights with nameless and faceless females and fire whiskey that filled all the empty space within him. And he wasn't sure how that had come to be, but he no longer cared enough to even attempt to figure it out.
jeffrey robin Sep 2010
come the young
young

young lovers!

loveless!!

come the young loveless
lovers!

why?

why dont you
simply try it?

why dont you
pay eachother
some

mind?

young the lovers

young

young and loveless

young and loveless

come the young
young lovers

loveless

payin eachother

no mind
zebra Sep 2018
have you ever seen beauty in a silky nightmare
have you  ever seen the monster of deprivation in heavens promise?

we speak of private things
we should never talk about
about vailed women
and their terrible secrets
and about myself who remains no longer a secret to myself

somewhere i went off the track
like a  daisy chain saw of honesty
to ensure you knew i was sick
a sick **** with a trick
as if i ate some ****** up hallucinogenic' s
making me spill my obsessions all over you
like some weird perfumed *****
down a swirling rainbow toilet
that turns out to be only jelly and whipped cream
wrapped in colored ribbons on cellophane tampons

i feel like  having *** or going to the toilet in public
while waving my hands up in the air
screaming yahoo i'm free
to blow to kingdom come
the temple of normalcy
you know
the church of rose gardens, cemeteries and deprivations
except of course for the sneers, smears
and self loathing vanilla demons
who wear long see through dresses and crosses
like dash board plastic virgins
with bobbing heads
that make hissing sounds about sin

i confess
i'm attracted to the darkest women
strange *******
and  ******
the stranger the better
who shake their butts
like hoodoo enchanted show girls
doing what they shouldn't do
crying and scrying like cooing moons calling
"drink me like ****** Mary
daddy **** lollypop"
all inky tats and razorblade ouchies

or
you can join those
covered in white collared black as death habits
begging the invisible *** cake in paradise
waiting for mercy and a little ****
that never comes
stuck in an empty
loveless bar of crucifixes that only serves up theology

oh baby
***** dreams do come true
pink ****** ***** gladly widen their haunches
like **** without boots
not caring if they go to hell
playin
like a joy ride of fiddle **** sticks
all freaky tongues and tingling licks
thick saliva multi lingual blow jobs
lathering flashing lipped saliva for the squirt  
with fiery wet hypodermic kisses
that make screams
like creamed upleaping lava and ash
for a million hungry sexed up twisting tongues
in occult ecstasy
fecundating shrouds of steamy clouds
in stained red black lighted rooms
with cherub crowned *****
and their drooling snatches buttered ****

eat quivering
like fowl mouthed piranhas
crying more raw meat please
while you drag your perfect person visage
into hollow caves of despair
cold and lonely

so you forlorn love struck weeping
horney pathetic scarecrow
socially engineered robots
if you want love
like heated buttery waffles with sweet jam
just give your self away like slutty putty
to lust criminals and *** addicted pervs  
until
you feel someone swallow you whole
soul and all
and lick their lips
like your their cherry pie

then look passed your
rats nest of pride and exhaustive approval list
and love them back
like free beer
bang their brains out
be their slave and make them yours
in the mad house of love
of warped shimmering mirrors, straight jackets, and squeezy insertions

and if one day they don't appreciate your imperfect perfection
if they weaponize like critic's
teach them respect
shove it where they breathe
lick your wounds
be brave
throw them in the trash bin of history
and move on

Eros and Venus
take a million forms

look around
your swimming in a giant bowl of broken hearts
hungry mouths, drenched ***** and hard *****

you whimpering little beasts
dress to ****
undress to live

its a movable feast
advice to the lovelorn young
thank you to Lora Lee for the line
" swirling toilet rainbows"
Suzy Hazelwood Nov 2014
I would rather sleep
on a cold stone floor
than lay solitary
in the lie of luxury
loveless sheets
a bed full of wishes
where I need you to be
jeffrey robin May 2015
"""""""""""""""

                                                         loveless       loveless       loveless

••

child         child          child                                                        
                                                                    (     walking in the rain    )

///

what happened to you girl ?

You looking most insane

I look into your eyes

Your fear is making me afraid


               •
                              •

                                                       Oh

Rain

Oh                              
                                                          Rain

//

You are dyin ugly ,  babe

••

loveless              
                             loveless
                                                                       loveless

                                                                                    Oh
Elin Roberts Mar 2018
in this reality

we created something out of nothing
nipped uncertainty in the bud
i buried it softly
among the weeds and the dirt

in this reality

i didn't rip out my roots from the ground below
i watered the seeds with kindness and love
threw insecurity to the wind
and let my heart show

but, my dear
this isn't my reality

i still claw at the dirt
with love bitten nails
digging for an answer in unfertilized soil
searching for a life that was never given
even the slightest chance to grow

no life will blossom here
the flowers will wilt and be rotten from the core
life cannot grow from a loveless garden
the petals will fall before they're formed
and thorns will sprout and puncture the delusion of something more

teasing this noose, that is wrapped around my heart

in this reality

the weeds will strangle the light from the sun
rip away the facade of a blooming aftermath
deprive my flowery veins of water, write me off as done
and kid me into an illusion that

the seeds will sprout into a thousand colors
not one of them real enough to describe
the color of my aura when i see your face
feel those hands on mine
your touch out of descriptions reach

cos in this reality

and every reality after

love will never be a word that can be defined
nor described, by any set opinion.

love is a vast and bottomless pit of beautiful and scary uncertainty
made from the memories it creates
built on the foundations on which we were born
and bred by the emotion we feel
rough draft but dunno how to finish it
Äŧül Feb 2016
She stayed no more the one for whom I stayed restless,
She stayed no more the one for whom I stayed restless.
Now who shall be my awaited - I am now loveless,
In whose anticipation now - for whom shall I stay restless?
She stayed no more the one for whom I stayed restless,
She stayed no more the one for whom I stayed restless.

Hey Kay Sera Sera,
What had to happen it happened not for my bad,
What happened it was written in my destiny bad.
That false reliance was broken for good,
False reliance it was so broken for good.
Now who shall be my awaited - I am now loveless,
She stayed no more the one for whom I was restless.
She stayed no more...

A garden is not made barren by breakage of a bud,
A bud being broken makes not the garden barren.
The garden has many more flowers so very varied,
Now who shall be my awaited - I am now loveless,
She stayed no more the one for whom I was restless.
She stayed no more...

Failed love - wasted romance is not my entire life,
My life is not just unsuccessful love and romance.
If I wake up with a positive mind and smiling face,
I will get a thousand more and I need not wait for her.
Whom shall I wait for now on and for whom shall I be restless?

Now who shall be my awaited - I am now loveless,
She stayed no more the one for whom I was restless.
She stayed no more...
Inspired by a Hindi song.

My HP Poem #1038
©Atul Kaushal
William Allen Jan 2019
I do not believe I am
capable of being
loveless.

Pouring all I have
into all I have
got.

My heart beats & drums
away, ever full.

For it has too much
to give.

Shared looks, & evenly exchanged
gestures of touch.

My brave heart flutters.

And for each thing
I love
I receive but a little in return.

This return is why
I am never
Loveless.
Persephone Sep 2018
She lets you hug goodbye
And squeeze the happiness from her mind
For she knows,
you won't be back at all
To see the love run out in tears,
To glance at the wished-for-death nights
And scream-less screams of grief.

She lets you kiss her neck,
And leave your sorrows in her heart
for she is aware,
You won't be there to notice
the pounding thoughts of never enough
Or the way the circles under her eyes
are the only smiles she gives

She lets you stride away
And never glimpse back
For she can tell,
You were looking for a different love
One thats wrapped in loveless beauty
And lets lust sleep in the bedside
She lets him leave her heart
For she believes,
Another love for her will come to be
Wrapped in passion, chocolate, kisses, and a love she deserves
Steven Moncrief Nov 2014
Consumed by anger since a child

Enough to never make me smile

Surely darkness has been aquired

Still god sent me an a blue eyed angel in the night to keep me from fully falling

A loveless father and his child who both knew, better off  if he was dead.

Loyalty to the mc club and on his stainless steel horse he can abide

Unconditional love is what a father is suppose to give his son.  

Surely this foolish man is blind for I am here and I am alive.
Asphyxiophilia Jul 2013
Whatever you do,
Don't fall in love
With loveless boys.

The boys who stay awake
Until 4 am taking long drags
On cigarettes and blowing
The smoke into the wind.

The boys who down bottles
Of whiskey at a time and
Wipe their mouths with their
Sleeves, eyeing you from
Across the room as they do.

The boys who frequent
Alleyways and rooftops
And libraries because
They are anything but
Ordinary.

The boys who watch you
Fall in love with them and
Don't feel a **** thing
For you as you do.
123cat Feb 2015
Touch, hold embrace my mind. Feel my spine and let us intertwine, into one bright sun of ultimate paradises. No, no one anyone; somebody? Please someone. I have been casted upon with a unbreakable thread of this lovely marked temple.
I am not lovely of them all, no pity here. Loveless is grateful and better then an unforgiveable, whirlwind of feelings, hatred and frozen heart. I am Loveless.
K Balachandran Apr 2012
Love was the fragrance of every flower
in this city, of celebrated  gardens,
not long before,
Why i sit here, nursing my uneasiness
in this bus with out a destination board,
I don't really know,
                               all I hope is this:
my belief that it would take me to
it's last stop- love- would not fail,
Once there ,I know,
my redemption would be easier.

I don't see any one bound
                                     to that destination,
not even one whose face i recognize,
night has no language, like a dumb man
i have to be contented with signs,
in this overly lit long, red bus, too sleek
for everyone here to feel happy about,
i feel the shock of change, from every side,
The city is busy shedding its old skins
and its soul, the villager and his words
that spoke of rain, crops of corn and harsh summer,
almost in a poetic vein, is alien now,
they aren't invited here anymore,
sulking, loitering around a bit, they have left, before sun down.

We are racing towards deadlines,
roads everywhere are blocked, broken, changed beyond
recognition, one's own street, needs introduction
work is in progress even at midnight,
new flyovers, elevated roads, sky scrappers
you easily lose count, and crawl through a maze,
all  for a make over, to a global city of electronics,
from  a sleepy town, embracing villages
to somewhere, the world feels flat, in an illusory grandeur.

Trees  died horrible deaths,
a loveless and forlone look takes over, even on young faces
the sparrows, disappear, no one knows where
they have gone, bees and butterflies,
what would be their fate, studies are on.

A lady in the front seat
gets jittery, she is not sure where she goes,
the driver doesn't pay attention,
there is none to reassure,
we are on the move, fast too.

I was looking for Mahatma Gandhi  Road, but the signs
are all gone, hope, those would be back pretty soon,
but would love come back?
                       OOO
Morgan Mercury Jul 2014
Look at yourself,
you're drained empty.
You'll never forget it
have you even tried?
You've gone and thrown yourself into the arms of someone who isn't strong enough to keep you up.
Did he make your head spin faster?
Did he make your heart beat faster?
On nights staying up wondering if he loves you I hope you someday find yourself instead.
Love is so sick when you can't see reality.
Notice he speaks your name with lack of passion.
See how his eyes can never match up with yours.
Do you even know where all this began?
It's making me sick, love
seeing you stumble home
on nights of loveless love, he never gave you.
Sweetheart, what have you got yourself into?
Do not follow his voice it's only making you settle more.
Please just admit that you've broken your own self this time around.
After all, he has put you through
how can you even still call him lover?
2014
Gayatri Jul 2013
Loveless child, not unloved but still at sea,
Sleepless child, stares wide-eyed in a mournful plea,
Selfish child, stays quiet for the attention of the room,
Lonely child, looking for love to bloom,
Blunt child, says it more clearly than she should,
Unhappy child, impassive like wood,
Troublesome child, not doing as she is told,
Stubborn child, with her antics made bold,
Three words to this child : You are Lovable and Cherished,
Will save her Soul from being Scarred or Perished.
Eager to love, yet afraid to fall
I want to love you, but there's this 10 foot wall.

Guarded and scared, I've let no one in
Show me you're the one who wants to break in.

Be my prince, my guard, my knight in shining armor
Save me from this dreaded curse im in.

I'll jump, take a chance, perhaps a leap of faith
I will let you in and see who I am.

Hold my heart, see my soul
Love me forever, and never let go.
jeffrey robin Mar 2011
footsteps wiped clean  from the shore
by the tsunami
where birds used to sing and children felt loved
the tsunami

the tsunami of deceit
the tsunami

we know

it was we who done it!
WE!

the tsunami of self conceit

that hit the shore where birds and children
died hopelessly loveless

the tsunami!!
you know

yes THAT tsunami
yes
this the very one

this very tsunami
of blame

of assaulting the numb working class people
by corporate  powers
so powerful it is incomprehensible to us

so we let the birds and the children die

rather than face the shame

of being numb and dumb and guilty

of letting birds and children die

without our love

our hopeless love
Joshua Haines Jan 2017
Laying on a sheetless matress,
day-drinking until bottled spirit dry.
Loveless in a ghost's nest,
never believing I
could be something more,
something from a Christmas card.
Take the long neck, smash the body
and fantasize to the shard.
loveless Dec 2015
Prologue (goddess)
When the war of the beasts
Brings about the world's end
The goddess descends from the sky
Wings of light and dark spread afar
She guides us to bliss
Her gift everlasting

Act 1 (the wanderer)
Infinite in mystery
Is the gift of the goddess
We seek it thus
And take it to the sky
Ripples form on the water's surface
The wandering soul
Knows no rest

Act 2 (the hero)
There is no hate only joy
For you are beloved
By the goddess
Hero of the dawn
Healer of worlds
Dreams of morrow
Hath the shattered soul
Pride is lost
Wings stripped away
The end is nigh

Act 3 (the abhorred)
My friend, do you fly away now
To the world that abhors you and I
All that awaits you
Is a somber morrow
No matter where the winds may blow
My friend your desire is the bringer of life
The gift of the goddess
Even if the morrow is barren of promises
Nothing shall forestall my return

Act 4 (the avenger)
My friend, the fates are cruel
There are no dreams
No honour remains
The arrow has left
The bow of the goddess
My soul corrupted by vengeance
Hath endured torment
To find the end of the journey
In my own salvation
And your eternal slumber
Legends shall speak
Of sacrifice at world's end
The winds sail over the waters surface
Quietly but surely

Act 5 (the sacrifiser)
Even if the morrow
Is barren of promises
Nothing shall forestall my return
To become the dew
That clenches the land
To spare the sands
The seas and the sky
I offer thee this silent sacrifice
Full poem at once
And a simple interpretation of mine

Each act is spoken by different people of the story
The story;
There were three friends -"the beasts" as the poem says
One becomes the prisoner - the avenger, the evil
One flies away - the wanderer in the poem, the abhorred
The left one becomes the hero - the hero, the sacrificer
The hero sacrificed himself at the call of the goddess

For the avenger, goddesss is the evil, gift is the power
For the wanderer and abhorred, goddess is the goodness, gift is life and light
For the hero goddess is his lover and gift is the Love

But at the end of the tale, the hero dies making a promise of return and so the title is loveless
tm Jul 2018
live life in warm yellows
when the sky is a dark gray and the clouds are a loveless black
live life in light pinks
when the trees are dying browns and the flowers are wilting ebonys
live life in bright blues
when the waters are a wild taupe and the sand is a rough onyx
live life in the colors of life;
for life is exquisite
but to see such radiance and beauty,
one must be appreciative and live life in warm yellows
reds,
oranges,
greens,
blues,
indigos,
and violets.
life is full of color, but one must be able see that to truly enjoy living
Advice
Jeremy Duff Oct 2012
I couldn't tell you why the loveless are more likely to read love poems then those smitten with love.
It doesn't make sense. A man starving to death is not going to enjoy reading a cook book.
Yet, I, personally, do not read or write poems about love when I have it.
Coincidentally, I write about sadness when I feel sad.
The loneliest poet writes about loneliness.
And it is beautiful.

Being able to live in a cabin in the woods sounds wonderful.
I would grow a beard and I would drink pine tea.
Everyday I would go out and chop wood,
or fish or hunt or pick berries.
I would return to my cabin,
and my wife will be there.
She is beautiful and
earthly and we
love one
another.
She would stay at home and cook a nice homely dinner for us. She would read books and knit and paint and do whatever she wanted to. When I walk in the door I would kiss her cheek and tell
her that she is beautiful and I would mean it and she would believe it. Our house would
be warm in the winter and there would be an ice cold lake for the summer. We
would have a dog that has golden hair and doesn't need a leash he just
comes when we whistle and he would eat our leftovers and he
would be fat and lazy and he would make us laugh and
we loved him like a child and eventually we would
have a child but that isn't even on our minds
at this point. Everyday would be the same
but the would also bring us great
discovery and love and worth.
Eventually we will have
a baby boy and he
will look more like
his mother but
he'll still have
my blue
eyes.


Love.
These should be two separate poems I guess but whatever. I'm a diva and I do what want when I want how I want.
Star G May 2015
I try and try
to change my
inevitable doom;
but it's all
for naught.

I try and try
to keep loving,
but the passion
soon leaves and
I'm left loveless.

I try, I swear, I try,
to hold onto my love,
but soon I find myself
growing bored of them.

I've gone through a lot
of them: the good, the sweet,
the bad, the funny, the shy,
the smart - many!

But soon I find myself
growing so, so bored
of them. I never cheat,
never flirt, never do
anything bad that could
break the relationship.

But then there's the catch -
be the good girl, but in return,
become unloving; never
fall in love, no matter how
hard you try to love.

I try, I honestly do,
but when I'm in a
relationship, a month or
so later, I find myself
bored and frustrated with
the poor victim.

I'm just a heartbreaker who
kills her victims on the inside.

I don't mean to, but I do.

I just can't love.

Why,

Why am I so loveless?
May20of2015
frankie Oct 2018
i miss the way fingertips felt against my cold skin
the soft touch that only a lover can provide
the kind of touch that can melt icebergs and start wildfires
i miss the sweet sound of whispered words that could start a revolution and the goosebumps that came with each mumbled "i love you"
i miss the feeling of drifting off in a pair of arms that transformed an embrace into a home and made a safety net around me as if protection could only exist within this space between fingertips and other ligaments
i miss the feeling that you provided
i miss the feeling of being wanted
i miss loving something, someone
i feel as if i have lost all sense of direction
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2013
Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay (Razor Blades, Pills, & Shotguns)*

Sittin' on the dock of the bay,
Watching the sun slip, Simon-says, slide away,
Cheeks blushing flushing from orange ray-guns,
Drinking blush rosé to oil our eyes
For the subtle story the sky shortly will reveal,
For the subtle story the sky shortly will revel.

Grievous judgement to make,
Thinkin' skills possessed to praise,
When but yesterday I easy confessed,
At the Blue Canoe I did not.

(The clouds were magnificent. No, I cannot write a poem about the cloud colors. Their shape shifting inexhaustible.  Mine eyes high on their creativity.  I'm just not good enough a poet to tamper with that sky.)*

If you courage enough to
Call yourself poet, then
It is audacity, not blood,
Warming your extremities,
So foolishly try, always be prepared to fail.

No impulse. We pledged that tonight, ours,
One hour of sunset over Silver Beach.
Brought the wine, forgot the pillows,
So Abraham & Sarah went prepared to sacrifice
All feelings in their butts for the greater glory
Of love and one of nature's great poetic challenges..

The conundrum~miracle of every sunset
O'er bay, lake or ocean, is its special,
Only-In-Nature unique way of customizing
Its descent just for you.

No matter where one observes,
No matter where you worship,
Wherever your temple, mosque or church situé,
Tennessee, Rhode Island, the Philippines,
Germany, Colombia, even in the ole U.K.,
(yes, you, know it, yes you)
The very same setting sun we all see,
Sends a magic dazzle gold orange path invitation
To the exact spot you are voyeuring,
One sun, all destinations equal before human.

How can that be?

Trepidation and tremblingly,
The clouds.

She leans on me, a perfect fit,
My back resting against a pylon,
So we see the clouds
With common exactitude,
But it is a quiet time, silence only shared.
Images stored silently within ourselves,
For we see the formation, man, woman,
Precisely and exactly, totally differently.

The clouds.
An armada moving imperial and imperiously
At a stately speed, saying I am awesome, fear me.
The largest cloud bank is an aircraft carrier,
Miles long, painted horizon blue-grey unsurprisingly.

The small white wisps, fast destroyers, stealthy submarines,
Moving fast to protect the mother ship,
Running random to confuse enemy radar and the
Pathetic, limited, human eye.

The colors.
Here I fail willingly, unashamedly.
So many sunsets, so many hearts,
All different, all the same.
Lacking knowledge, I cannot tender,
I cannot offer you tenderness to love
Enough,
The variety of oranges, gold, varietals interspersed
By the pinks, the cornea, singed,
And mock myself for all my meager brain yields is
Good Humor creamsicle comparison...a delicious irony

You who write after midnight
Of razor blades, pills and shotguns,
And not marked two decades even, on this planet,
You want hard,
Write a poem about a sunset in ways never done before.

You, who are wracked with despair
Speak to the man with no job for months
And mouths to feed and a life insurance policy.
Speak to me.

I want to tell you to get over yourself,
But you reject that old saw. Ok.
Get onto to yourself.

I have walked the hallways of deep despair,
Heard the bells ring between periods that signal only the next
Hell,
And to this day, still do,
But still I try to write external of sunsets and greater glories.

How many lives depend on you? Are you proud of your weakness?
Do you hate me yet for acknowledging out loud,
We are both cowards?

I have five mouths to feed,
Before I parse a morsel.
Two less than two,
What do you have but to
Grow yourself?

Yeah coward.
Too yellow to write about a
Yellow sunset, cause that is hard in a way incomprehensible
Until tried.
Or the passing of your mother who could not speak clearly
But you, thru her eyes knew that she had poems to yet recite.
Run away like I did ashamed with frustrated failure.
Why should I coddle, give you easy soft?
.
If you come here to share, well and good.
If you come here to find comfort, good.
So gaze upon these words and feel
The love that only experience has earned.

What do you know of heartbreak?
Imprisoned for decades in a loveless life,
I walked by the water nightly,
Yes, the same waters where I CinemaScoped
Yesterday's sunset, and walked away.

You can read about if you look it, look me, look here,
Look up!

So do something hard, something external.
Fail but love yourself more for just having tried.
Then try something else.

The saddest poem ever wrote
Was not yours, where you titillate with daring words
Razors, pills etc.,
The saddest poem ever writ
Was this one, a meager vanity to capture a
Sunset that keeps trying every day to
Surpass
Supersede
Its previous glorious failure,
Like we should too.
Keep trying

Now, I shall rest,
For I know that soon I shall see, feel, think,
Of something new that will make me eager to
Write a new poem.


August 3~5, 2013
When I am less tired, I wil edit the typos. But life is full of typos, but sometimes you just gotta not look back, even if you leave a trail of typos behind you. But writing this has mentally exhausted me in a different way.  I will rest from writing to recover. Dig out some old ones, maybe

If you courage enough to
Call yourself poet, then
It is audacity, not blood,
Warming your extremities,
So foolishly try, always be prepared to fail.
The Words
Of your silence
The complexity
Of your simplicity
The warmth
Of your cold heart
The companionship
Of your empty arm
My eternal love
For your loveless soul
I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and
     sat down under the huge shade of a Southern
     Pacific locomotive to look at the sunset over the
     box house hills and cry.
Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron
     pole, companion, we thought the same thoughts
     of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed, sur-
     rounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of
     machinery.
The oily water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun
     sank on top of final Frisco peaks, no fish in that
     stream, no hermit in those mounts, just our-
     selves rheumy-eyed and hungover like old bums
     on the riverbank, tired and wily.
Look at the Sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray
     shadow against the sky, big as a man, sitting
     dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust--
--I rushed up enchanted--it was my first sunflower,
     memories of Blake--my visions--Harlem
and Hells of the Eastern rivers, bridges clanking Joes
     Greasy Sandwiches, dead baby carriages, black
     treadless tires forgotten and unretreaded, the
     poem of the riverbank, condoms & pots, steel
     knives, nothing stainless, only the dank muck
     and the razor-sharp artifacts passing into the
     past--
and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset,
     crackly bleak and dusty with the **** and smog
     and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye--
corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like
     a battered crown, seeds fallen out of its face,
     soon-to-be-toothless mouth of sunny air, sun-
     rays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried
     wire spiderweb,
leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, gestures
     from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster
     fallen out of the black twigs, a dead fly in its ear,
Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O
     my soul, I loved you then!
The grime was no man's grime but death and human
     locomotives,
all that dress of dust, that veil of darkened railroad
     skin, that smog of cheek, that eyelid of black
     mis'ry, that sooty hand or phallus or protuber-
     ance of artificial worse-than-dirt--industrial--
     modern--all that civilization spotting your
     crazy golden crown--
and those blear thoughts of death and dusty loveless
     eyes and ends and withered roots below, in the
     home-pile of sand and sawdust, rubber dollar
     bills, skin of machinery, the guts and innards
     of the weeping coughing car, the empty lonely
     tincans with their rusty tongues alack, what
     more could I name, the smoked ashes of some
     **** cigar, the ***** of wheelbarrows and the
     milky ******* of cars, wornout ***** out of chairs
     & sphincters of dynamos--all these
entangled in your mummied roots--and you there
     standing before me in the sunset, all your glory
     in your form!
A perfect beauty of a sunflower! a perfect excellent
     lovely sunflower existence! a sweet natural eye
     to the new hip moon, woke up alive and excited
     grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden
     monthly breeze!
How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your
     grime, while you cursed the heavens of the rail-
     road and your flower soul?
Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a
     flower? when did you look at your skin and
     decide you were an impotent ***** old locomo-
     tive? the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and
     shade of a once powerful mad American locomo-
     tive?
You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a
     sunflower!
And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me
     not!
So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck
     it at my side like a scepter,
and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack's soul
     too, and anyone who'll listen,
--We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread
     bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all
     beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we're bles-
     sed by our own seed & golden hairy naked ac-
     complishment-bodies growing into mad black
     formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our
     eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive
     riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sit-
     down vision.

                              Berkeley, 1955
mrmonst3r Feb 2015
I am gone.
Adrift thru cold dead air,
Lost in the horizon.
There's no comfort,
No means of adaptation.
Only this void.
          this loveless space.
Out here I am forgetting you —
Slowly,
As my oxygen depletes.
"My God—it's full of stars!"

— The End —