"meaninglessly" poems
Why can't we have meaningless talk
the way people have meaningless ***
you would crash over me into a
river of un-scathing emptiness
and leave marks on my skin-
stories that this was where
you started to tear at
the seams
effortlessly
like the silkness
of your sorrows on my floor.
You would become a sultry verse
in this anthology of every day
lodged between the rush and
vacancy of broken hearts
and anguished limbs.
You would radiate the heat
of your angry, angry heart onto
the cold deadness of mine,
and we could burn and melt
all at the same time.
Meaninglessly you would leave
me out of breath,
gather your clothes
and go home.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 10:16 AM UTC
My ****** betrays me
It yearns to be touched, kissed, caressed
Drawn to the point of ecstasy
But perhaps lingering at the edge
To relish the pleasure for a moment
A moment
Longer
My ****** betrays me
Always wanting more
More
More
Never consolidating with the others parts
The brain
The heart
And we are not speaking in terms of anatomical correctness
No, but in terms of
Emotions
I said it
My ****** betrays me
My heart yearns
They argue
The heart wants intimacy, human touch, connection
The feeling of looking into the eyes of another and knowing
In that instant
That second
That moment
Everything is okay
And even if it isn’t
It doesn’t matter
Nothing will matter
Except
This
Moment
My ****** betrays me
My heart yearns
And they argue
But my brain
My logic
The voices within
They speak up, naturally of course
Please the ****** for the night
Intimacy
Ha
Intimacy
Have you looked inside
For your insides are as hideous as the out
Do not believe otherwise
My ****** betrays me
My heart yearns
They argue
But my brain
My brain does the most damage
It controls them all
The betrayal, the yearning
My brain betrays me
My brain wants what it cannot ever have
My brain desires things so far from its reach
My brain imagines the impossible
Love
My ****** betrays me
My heart yearns
They argue
Then my brain
My brain goes off
Thoughts passing by at the speed of light
Each one, so very important
My brain is in charge.
It supplies the salty wetness that falls from my eyes
The emptiness I feel within
My ****** betrays me
My heart yearns
They argue
But my brain
My brain destroys all
My brain burns the cities down
The dreams
Dashed against the rocks
My desires
Meaninglessly quenched
My emptiness
Forever there
My brain betrays me
My brain yearns
And within, is an argument
Within
Within is the problem
No one will ever know, So fear not
Let the brain betray
Let it yearn
For the mouth
Perhaps, that is who really is in charge
The mouth shall not betray
The eyes may
The eyes do
But who catches them long enough to see inside?
No one has, No one will
My brain betrays me
My brain yearns
An argument, within
But my mouth
Shall
Never
Betray
Me
It shall remain closed
Sealed tight
Strongest of clay bricks
Guarding my secrets
Guarding what lies within
The confines of my soul
Emotions
Emotions betray me
Emotions yearn
Emotions cause me to argue within
But my mouth
My
Mouth
Shall
Remain
Loyal
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
Seven years I lived my life, fading from reality. Crossing into machinery. Robotics with which I am so unfamiliar. Machined, greased, lubricated parts. Built with a purpose. A meaningless purpose. Destined for failure.
A broken down machine I stand. Sit. Lay. Run. Work. Play. Slide. Cursed and wretched as the demons which haunt the dreams of the fallen. I rise above. Skyrocketing through reason. Through the seventh layer of Heaven and Hell. On a false sense of cloud nine I currently float…awaiting the plummet.
Its falling away from me. I sail through a shattered sea of broken glass. I closed my eyes and the tears could not flow. Blocked by my eyelids, restricting emotion. After all of this, I am amazed. The wall could be broken. Forgotten faded memories of which I have no say.
Of past. Of present. Of gifts. Of futures. Of lists. Lists of black. Hit lists in my head. I live in my head. I am not what I wish. I am what I’m not. I am what I dream. A scream. A cry. Laying here, blank as the page on which I cannot create a scene. A scene behind my eyes, yet I cannot attain it on paper. These words flow meaninglessly, but not slow.
Daedalus, Icarus, Thrice. Three times I roam. Randomized plains of thought, laid out on a digital page. Keys, not a pen. Ones and Zeros, not ink. Screens, not pages. Neat, not sloppy…yet my words do not understand one another… nor do I….
If we make the mainland, this song would not be made. Epic beauty, formed through misfortune and tragedy. Oh son…I beg you…keep a steady wing. For you are the only one who means anything to me. My wings are made of melting, shredding, fading elements. The sun, heating, lighting, someday dying. I understand that nothing is as it may seem. Nor is any seam as true as the seamstress believed. The Gods did not take the only thing which meant anything to you, father of legend. Your son is not dead…only afire. Acquired by the forces you believed to be merciful.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 9:22 PM UTC
Meaningless *** Poem
5/4/2014
Set your gaze upon the man across the bar.
Watch him as he casually drinks a beer and laughs with his friends.
Gossiping about past drunken nights' ends.
Ends that were met with a warm welcome's comfort.
Ends that involved taking a woman to bed without much effort.
How many do you think that man slept with in high school?
A mindless **** count as if they were tools,
willing to be wielded and fooled.
willing to be picked up and ******
in the back of his ****** '04 pickup truck.
Maybe he's had at least one meaningless ***** with that **** of his.
So tell me this.
Please, why is the *** I have meaningful to him?
If his *** is shallow, then why does mine fill his hatred to the brim?
What's worse is the way he claims to 'know.'
The signs I give off that are guaranteed to show.
1. I wear tight underwear.
2. Their color scheme has a brightly colored flare.
3. I sit with my legs crossed in a chair.
4. That tells him I want it down there.
3. I get up and walk to the bathroom with a sway,
2. No straight man would dare do that.
1. ****** Marys and Long Islands are dead give-a-ways,
0. I held hands with a man walking into the bar.
But the same as him,
I could take someone home and forget their name.
I could gloat about it to friends the next night out for two minutes' fame.
I could go on with what to him could be an ordinary day.
But because it's me, it's more meaningful to him.
Because I am gay.
Let's have a toast for the ********** as Kanye once said.
Let's have a toast for homophobes who take women meaninglessly to bed.
meanwhile my meaningless *** only finds meaning in their heads.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
Spaceship
Spaceship
Where should I go
I’ve left earth
Couldn’t live with the humans anymore
I got tired of the deceit, in the white of their smiles
And the lies that sat in the pupils of their eyes
Spaceship
Spaceship
where should I go
Maybe to Mars
Highjack the rover
Let myself become engulfed in the ongoing
desert storm
Falling harder then Minnesota winter snow
Being around these beings for to long
Corrupting
All they do is steal
And **** each other meaninglessly
Spaceship
Spaceship
Please take me away
The farther the better
I cannot stay
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 11:56 AM UTC
Our world today is filled with lies and painful rage
Wars, destruction, and fear with senseless hate
Many Leaders’ obsessions to become super great
Led to Killings without thinking of the one who creates
Don’t they worry about the day in hell they’d suffocate
Or is it lack of faith, yet thinking everything is fate
All they worry about is how history will narrate
Heroes, or villains, depends on how you translate
sometimes depends on how your faith accommodates
Christians believe their faith is superior you shall celebrate
Muslims believe heaven is through their way you must navigate
Didn’t God tell you to him only you must dedicate?
And killing your own is a sin that he shall not tolerate
Yet behind the mask of religion you all instigate
A war of self- interest then meaninglessly advocate
“The older you grew, the wiser you became”
Oh, Wait, wait, wait! could you illustrate?
Because our leaders have grown into a psychological stage of “Childate”
Making decisions that even a child wouldn’t appropriate
Now I tell you, the end of the world we shall anticipate
For peace is far, far, far away from the stairs of our gates
Pray to the only God who taught us how to appreciate
And hope that one day Humans will better communicate
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 2:01 PM UTC
Media is disintegrating.
Powerful Death Stars,
Internet smashed into
pieces of space junk,
floating meaninglessly.
Pale imitations of past
glories. Instead, Blogs
and sensationalism are
bare distant relics of a
once proud profession.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 5:47 AM UTC
it's been used
quite meaninglessly
twice
maybe
three times
and
in between that
it is simply
a dust trap
in hindsight
it was
a waste
i must
have known
that it would
barely
if ever
get used
lured
beyond sense
and reason;
the novelty
behind the idea
silenced
any concept
of logic
or prudence
being able
to say
i own
the same typewriter
as such
a great mind
must mean
something
even so
if not
it shall remain
on display
esoteric
ironic
impotent
amidst the pages
of my bookshelf
Mar 30, 2022
Mar 30, 2022 at 7:24 AM UTC
I watched a moth
flutter meaninglessly
against my wall
white speckled wings
carrying a fragile body
again and again
flying into
the same spot
and in that moment
i felt an empathy
towards that moth
for I know the meaning
of my being just
as little as it did
perhaps less
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
return trips offered
for body.
some, we separate
long
after birth.
fourth baby
the first
errant.
surveyor of train car interiors.
job creation
as healer’s
refuge.
godmother
in a borrowed
copter hat.
the boy we call
egg mouth
who frees
his sister.
our meaninglessly
oral
talks.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
I wasnt supposed to but we went out running anyway. Call me an adulteress, it doesnt matter by now. Ill never reach these places with him that I do here. Here the wine flows down our throats and the wind rips down our hair and backs. And yes for the millionth time we live out fantasies that in others just lay there
dormant in their coffins for etertinity
my heart is an explosion
of a million tiny rhapsodies
racing around the planets
landing for moments
on thoughts
on animals
on stars and on
trees
and on grass
but pounding in my chest and with
ur heart
all at the same time.
You grab my hand and we are at once
scaling the wall less edges of
the scorching sun
and sitting meaninglessly here
in these moments
i want a song written just for me
i want to frolic among a trillion dandelions
in purple linen dresses
u and me
i want the sun to laugh raining and kissing down our necks and backs
it will be a fantasy
we will be friends
soaking up moments like hawaiian punch
delightfully and lustily
and you will sing a song and give it to me
and when you are done it will sing over agian
and we will never be done hearing it
and we will know
I and He
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 6:27 PM UTC
frayed copper wires never to be bound
electricity is lost, connections unwound, and
where one end surges in power
the other cowers, weak in comparison
i watched their awful lives and wished
someone's expert hands could finish their plight
i attempted to fix it in the past but
other copper wires are so tightly woven!
and meanwhile, this little lightbulb
flickers meaninglessly.
why no one has smashed the wires
under their feet and then in a raging fire from fatigue i
dont know.
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 11:10 PM UTC
Since I don't know if we'll ever meet again-
I guess
that we'll try to stay together
forever.
"I'll tell you someday."
Laughing and sticking your tongue out,
teasing me,
you were the most beautiful then.
But-
When is that someday?
A link in the far distant future;
without any promise
or solidity.
Your back is growing fainter,
more distant,
vaguer,
quieter,
it's almost transparent now.
The fact that no matter how long my fingers were;
How much I grew;
How much I learned;
How much I matured-
The fact
that I could still not reach or touch you
or your standard;
I could do nothing
but slump to the floor,
Admit painful defeat-
And cry.
The Villain-
was me.
The one who ran away-
was me.
It was no lie,
For I am
the true deceiver.
And
I say to the plaster
peeling wall-
"I'm Sorry."
Uselessly,
Meaninglessly,
inutility,
I just sit there
in a wooden, peeling
chair;
Wondering.
*The Characters that I wrote then-
They don't dance for me anymore.*
"Is that so?"
*The poems that I scribbled-
on a napkin at a fast food restaurant,
Where are they now?*
"Who knows?"
*My memories and limits-
Are they gone?*
"Why don't you figure out yourself?
Isn't the person,
who knows you best-
yourself?"
--
--
--
I'm sorry-
My light was gone.
I'm Sorry-
My head wasn't thinking straight.
I'm Sorry-
I let go.
What kind of excuses are these?
For being a coward,
For being a shallow person
who didn't see the world-
Sorry doesn't even take up half of it.
The beginning of the end,
tell me,
when does that time come?
The promise that our naïve selves made together
"Forever, Eternally,"
You believed in those words.
For crushing your morals,
For mocking them,
For taking away your innocence-
"Forgive me."
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 8:26 PM UTC
Smallness crept inside
Wormlike string of fear
At the face of the grandiose
Grandeur, something
You wish could entangle in between
All your gaps supporting
The thin walls of crushing unimportance
And as it squirmed inside
You stomach empty and raging
It filled you with despair
Urgency to escape or to be
Held and cradled
By this enormity of everything
Most of which you will never see
Inside were thoughts
Bouncing off the walls
Meaninglessly sinking in
And dripping out
Just as meaninglessly
What are they in the face
Of endless repetition
So glorious and terrifying
You could breathe it in
Feel it, write it out, sculpt it
Or take care of its smallest bits
That fit into your grip
Tiny you are
Tiny I am
And all of them to come
Just as tiny-tiny bits of
Comparative insignificance
Yet like the molecules of matter
We hit each other's trajectories
And butterfly's wing governs the ball
So, good night dear insignificance
I thought of you today
Between every other blink
And on the big scale
It hardly even happened
Yet thought was most alive
In the universe of my
Petty mind
That never happened before
And will never exist again
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 9:39 PM UTC
Are u there,there....where my voice doesn't reach but my silence does....
Are u there,there....where mine is not you but I am you....
Are u there,there....where you hear my utterances but still pretend deafness....
Are u there,there.....where my screams are conducive to your silences....
Are u there,there....where your stillness still ripples in my eyes....
Are u there,there...where My existence is your whim....
Are you there,there.....in this meaninglessly profound life asunder with negligible distances....
Are u there,there.....where my breath is quenched with your eyes...
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 11:57 AM UTC
My wrist begins to flutter
Eyes launch a dilation
Thoughts descend to encounter the lead
All to create a selection of words
Words.
Developed by 26 letters
Colliding and stringing together
As a whole
Consisting of vowels
Meaninglessly rising to the top
Attaining popularity
Among the rest of the 21 others
And consonants
Creeping and crawling
Just to be acknowledged
B,C,D,F,G,H,J… and so forth
Nevertheless
It can’t be done nor spelled without
A, E, I, O, U.
Y, O, U. You.
One consonant
Two vowels
But a word
Filled with power
Who are you?
Are you the Z creeping and crawling
just to be acknowledged?
Or are you the A
meaninglessly rising to the top?
Unity
Just like the millions of words in usage
Formed by both consonants and vowels
We also need each other, from A-Z and everything in between
26 individuals
Each one with a certain ability
To be capitalized.
Which letter are you?
The letter awaiting its turn to be first?
From A, B & C's
Uniting with L, M, N, O, & P’s
To make a bigger “picture”
A bigger, story.
Now in this time
More than ever
We need unity between man
To form something bigger
Unity
It starts with U
A letter nevertheless
But also Y, O, U
Now it's completely up to you
How are you going to write your story?
How are you going to string together the vowels and consonants?
Because in the end
The only one that can create a perfect ending
To your own story
Is A, E, I, O, you.
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 10:29 PM UTC
If I cry out to a gaze of boisterous
watchers, as every star falling out of the
sky, —I’d too, feel so out of place. I would
appear, a feast to Time, by just a second’s graze.
Truly startled at how short a life is;
even by the Greener pastures we so
meaninglessly hunt after; do know
full well, all the grass that grows so
promising; will all eventually be grazed.
And perhaps the purple envy I had
for the freedom’s worth knitted into
the sky, would all at last turn so grey,
And so, I would cry a river’s mountain,
upon knowing how much time I spent,
chasing after meaningless things in all my days.
For the cares of the world offers
only a moment’s praise,
Till I’m of course consumed, with finding
the reasoning to clarify such a craze—
I’d have no answer to my Creator’s name;
and I’d be so _ashamed._
Apr 19, 2024
Apr 19, 2024 at 11:07 AM UTC
An intro which starts with a dramatic entry
An outburst of prologue will do the trick
suspensely reveals the theme of the literacy
A sudden emotion starts devouring
Sadness, a great weapon of the typical poet
The emoish feeling is spun into small fibrous pieces
And it is scattered everywhere
The tales from fragile broken heart
The melody from the failed dreams
The rhymes that accompanied the tears in the bedroom
Dark and Depressed
A dash of sorrow
A tiny hint of regret
A spoonful full of hope
Abstract sentences created mindlessly
"howl of heart in a burning forest where the greyish sky pours acid to the pavement"
Words spreaded meaninglessly
"To beyond I listen stars collide eternal nightmare"
Emotions flow out endlessly
An ending is crested on the blank
After all is poured out
Awaits for another day
To compile the emotion inside the chest
To be released ragingly
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 1:53 AM UTC
It's not actually a flower
It's a painting of a flower
No definition beyond
The flower's we see
Out on the lawn
Merely an image
Paint fumes replaced
The charmers scent
That once
"Meaninglessly"
Drew our mates
An orchestrated opus
Of wayward heart
Galaxies of lyric-less
Wayward stars
Glimmering
From who knows
Afar
Meaningless poetry
Is all we are
Why do morning dove
Insist to sing
Meaningless songs
Birds of prey scream
Blinding beams of sunlight
Reflect off mighty seas
Blinding our eyes
Yet still we believe
What meaning has
The giant ancient trees
Majestic mountains
Purple beauties
These impressions
Of nature only define
Meaningless poetry
That beautifully rhymes
.................................
Nov 26, 2019
Nov 26, 2019 at 5:15 AM UTC
For Dylan:
I use to love things when I was little walking to school all the time. I remember how good everyone was and how pure the world could be. I know that I'm different now. But I can tell you that I love you more than watching the sunshine peek out of the mountains every morning.
I love you more than garden gnomes and pink flamingos painting dew drops on people's grass before we go outside and it's early.
I love you more than the smell of freshly mowed lawn on a warm summer dawn. Radiating that green color.
I love you much more than the people who meaninglessly love their spoiled children with puffy pudding faces. Their never ending adoring smiles cast down at the kids who've learned to hold other kids.
I can't stop thinking about how we are going to love these things when we begin waking up too early and can't fall asleep, sitting on the front porch, watching our old friend sun rise and fall each day.
I can't wait to find the time passing effortlessly in front of us in crummy walks where the golden face stares at us and the slate city we might never leave.
I'm still a child and so are you.
We are gonna have so much fun.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 12:27 AM UTC
It hurts when i breathe
It burns when i see
All of me-
Ashes scattered to the sea
No matter the pattern
You wear on your sleeve
I fall down dead
And wake relieved
Ashes, ashes
It's all ********* ashes
this house we've built,
The bodies we put inside,
Nothing stays alive
This feeling of godly emptiness
Will pass
The feeling of my hand on your back
Wont last
The past is here
Along with the next
Phrase i speak
Between nicotine therapy
The future is here
With the king and queen
To let loose a vermouth mixed
Drink of the unseen
The obscene lingers meaninglessly
With the scene
With the invisible host,
The holy ghost
The most i could ask
Is to feel the ground beneath my feet
Once more
To unlock familiar doors
In familiar places
And to greet familiar faces
I dont know you yet
But i knew you before
I dont know you yet
But i love you all the more,
For our cause and effect
Is defecting to the raw rocks
And wrecks
On the distant shore
Tell me once more,
Did i meet you just now
Or do i remember you from before?
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
Dark dwelling deep in it's own despair marred meaninglessly in its essence
Cold coarse fleshed tiles spanning upwards into struts of splintered weathered wood
Smelling of stale sap and oak seeping into sullen sweat-stained sheets concealing constellations Within You
And I—
Intertwined within
Amongst the stars
Our words lost somewhere between the rhythm of our heart
The synapses of our mind
And the nature of our nerves
To touch
Aug 13, 2011
Aug 13, 2011 at 2:25 AM UTC
I never knew earlier,
why my ink less pen
bleeds in her hands;
which has to be kept on
scribbling down
meaninglessly;
aimlessly.
It is only for these
simple words to be
delivered like a new baby
from the nib of her
sacred womb....
*
By
Williamsji Maveli
[email protected]
www.williamsji.com
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
Do you still see it with me?
It.
Stomach twisting while it flutters meaninglessly.
Oh, but it’s so meaningful.
Full of life, yearning.
Love, pain.
It.
I still feel it.
But do I still see it with you?
No.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 3:47 PM UTC