"miserably" poems
I asked her to stay away,
I wanted her to leave.
I needed more space,
This is what I used to believe.
Frustrated by her demands and expectations,
I felt little less of freedom.
Started hating to explain how I spent my hours,
what was I doing and what did I had for lunch.
Bored of relationship,
Thought I needed a break,
Just a bit more space,
to do the things I crave.
She misunderstood me terribly,
I adjusted but failed miserably,
Started losing myself trying to keep her closely.
Finally, the separation happened,
It got over I was delighted,
went out on a trip, partied, enjoyed.
She was the one who suffered the most
Things got better as the time passed by.
I pushed her away,
I made her weep,
Not thinking much asked her to leave.
Break up was tough on her,
But she got through,
I made her cry so the Karma has to come for you.
I Met her again at our favourite place,
in hope of getting her back ,
but I could see it in her eyes, that I have been replaced.
Now everything is finished,
everything is blown.
I paused but she moved on.
Now I am the one who's ******* left alone.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 11:56 AM UTC
Depression. Oh malicious depression.
Always there, never fading away, or going away in this case.
Coming at me like she's my first priority.
Staying in my life because I guess I like the company, the feeling like there's always a weight on my shoulders, always a reassurance that I'm definitely not going to be in the mood for anything besides sleep and sometimes not even that.
Depression is my side chick, not only because I need some difference in my brain, some pizazz to keep things spiced up, or spiced down, but because my brain needs some company while the main chick happiness is away.
My side chick goes away sometimes when the main is in town.
While happiness is with me I'm always scared because what if depression finds out and comes to win me with pure determination.
So I ditch happiness...
Depression gets total control over me and I can't seem to find hope of ditching her and finding someone like happiness again.
Depression finds the time to insert unwanted thoughts into my brain, talk to me like I'm some slave to it, I guess I am in a way.
She's inconsistent in her time with me,
I talk to happiness still to fill in the times when depression isn't there, it's not the same with her.
Sure we're close and spend time together, but happiness is never really there with me like she was prior to depression.
Depression is jealous that I spend time with happiness, but I can't help it.
Happiness will always have a place in my brain.
Unlike depression happiness has been there since the beginning.
Depression came along for the attention a couple years ago and now we're in a relationship that only goes one way.
Depression loves me, I definitely do not love depression.
I hang on to depression since she's all I have left...
Happiness is at the back of my mind constantly wanting to be set free from my thoughts.
I just can't let go,
Can't let go of the feeling happiness gave me, can't let go of the love she gave and still gives to me as a far off friend.
You see happiness found relationships in the people around me, she is constantly prominent in their lives, they never fail to give her attention, treat her like the priority in their lives.
I miss happiness, she was great...
Now I have the ***** called depression and she's not leaving anytime soon, so I sit with her, attempt to love her and fail miserably at doing so.
I try and tell her that I don't want her anymore but she keeps coming at me with kindness and affection.
So now I just sit with her and happiness is held in the back of my mind slowly fading away and depression is now my partial past my entire present and most likely to be future.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 5:24 PM UTC
Well great goodness, where on Earth do I start?
The Garden of Eden … or the bottom of my heart?
How can I make this as honest and heartfelt as I can?
How would I share with every woman in the world, the emotions of every man?
Yes, we hold them in. It's about pride. It's about standing tough.
But you'd really not have us any other way … you love to polish what's rough.
And we really love you, make no mistake, to you we are forever beholden.
We'll not forget those meals and those band aides and all those clothes gently folden.
You taught us to tie our shoes and look after our sisters and brothers.
And that unless we are standing for something correct, we must always be kind to others.
From you we learned that women are our partners, other halves and mothers-to-be.
Which leads my poem in another direction … as I continue my praises with glee.
Our wives took up where our mothers left off and carry our hearts in their hands.
They made us soup when sick, bore us amazing children and walked beside us in the sand.
They undressed us when drunk, both for fun and when it was needed.
And stood understanding when we failed miserably, as their warnings went blindly unheeded.
No matter our place in failure, glory or fame, they were always standing by our side.
No matter our outfit, five o'clock shadow, even our beer belly …
they always stand there with pride.
And in the brave new age, where we all live, they now do things so amazing.
They race cars, cure diseases, head up companies and set many trails a blazing!
What would we do without these women from our birth to our end of days?
How do we love them, now and forever?
You simply can't count the ways!
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 4:26 PM UTC
Your head feels foggy
you sense yourself unwind,
It’s the same dreadful demons
toying with your mind.
They wait till it’s dark
or the lights are down low,
unnerving sickly attacks
through your blood and bones.
You can’t hide your black heart
the demons can see,
they don’t allow any space
in your head to breathe.
They tear your reason to shreds
you need fixing.
A worn stone sinking
in an ocean that’s rotting,
you decay miserably since
you're forced to bend the knee.
How much more agony
can the universe bring.
Not even your screams
can get you out of the cold,
and you’d rather give up
and drown,
than go it alone.
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 11:34 PM UTC
There is a blood clot in the center of Imagination Street,
I can feel it.
It blocks the path that follows through Creative Avenue
where cars horn, roar and protest, curse and smother with
a simple look of “Move the **** on!”
And yet no paramedic can remove the jumper that
lays from austere insipid life.
It's a victim of routine they say, jumped from the nearest skyscraper
hoping to touch the sky but fell miserably on to the streets.
There is an aberration stretched over the streets, I can feel it
because it's me.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
hotels are casually destroying the enviornment
i love the feeling i get when
you accept that i'm
getting closer to you
I have so much to do but
let's get taco bell and
play minecraft all day
we can build a quiet town
while the world around ours
falls apart
snuggle baby, comfy love
baby talk, my sweet bliss
rotting me from the inside out, emotional decay
just one more
******* day i cannot handle
looking at your face
and i'm gone forever
I spend most nights suffering
but failing miserably
at relationships
babe if you only ******* knew
you were the closest thing to a soulmate
but the furthest away from true love
i still bang my head against the wall
I cover my ears and scream
when I can't handle the sound of this world's destruction
it's all louder and more apparent
without the saftey you granted me
you're probably happy as i'm being
tortured and devoured my soul
**** out and thrown away into a pit of
******* useless torment corprate casual slave hell but
we all die alone and that's what matters most so who rly cares
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
A pivot, A ****** A watershed
Been miserably waiting for dawn in my head
Then the day came
A day my mismatch soul and body met
I fed on your words and voices
Wolf down everything from you and store them up
Taking mental snapshot in the dark
And prepare myself for yet another brutal week
I fed on tasty food and a good mood
Treat myself with something tangible
Glutton is never a sin for me
I fed on fantasies.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 11:15 AM UTC
They say that the cities
Are paved with gold
That this is the land
Where dreams are made true
I'll tell you its where they are sold
Only the ruthless can afford
To rise to the top
The cities are nothing but cold
Homeless in doorways
And beggars on corners
A meagre minimum wage income
A damp house to welcome
Indirect subtle insults
Discrimination and accusation
Faulted into submission
One size fits all
Well it better fit you
Or you're just another number
Database, forms and paperwork
Lost in the system
Nine to five
Or the underworld shift
Borrow from Peter to give to Paul
Man made traps
Crime is always at an all time high
Theft, **** fraud, ******
Delinquency
Occurring frequently
I read the news
And it starts my day off miserably
Concrete jungle
Where have you gone simple things
If you have a minute
Tell me about the other side
The place I want to go
Acres of playground fun
I want to hear about the trees
The earth beneath your feet
Do you sit by the river
And feel complete
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 5:46 PM UTC
Modern Day Cinderella
Everyone knows the fairytale
a precious little girl
growing up in hell
with her step-sisters
and step-mom of evil
that want nothing more,
but to trap her in her shell.
As you all know their plan
to hide her away
and keep her from her prince
failed miserably.
This story can relate to a girl I once knew.
Though in her story
she isn't saved by a fella,
this is my modern day cinderella.
Coming from a broken home,
so nothing normal ever known.
Parents divorced before the fighting
could be imprinted in her memory.
Two years later her father remarried.
So all the sudden she had a new family.
Things were okay at the start,
until she got a little older.
Then it all started to rot.
The stepmother turning green,
full of envy, turning mean.
Father always working late,
her mother off on drugs wasting away.
No one was around to notice the change,
to see the pain on that little girls face.
Her step-mom made her cry everyday.
Hate was the term,
used on a regular basis.
The fear this women created,
evil ever so jaded.
Picking up after her step-sisters day after day.
Who loved to use their anger
to make fun of her, tease her
if she didn't appease them.
Spending all the time she could
hiding in her room
for hours upon end.
They preferred her to be non-existent.
There came a day where
she became brave
and decided to take a stand
she played her hand
escaped the fate she was trapped in
breaking the chains.
Ending this story I tell ya
of modern day Cinderella.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 1:29 PM UTC
The tractor stands frozen - an agony
To think of. All night
Snow packed its open entrails. Now a head-pincering gale,
A spill of molten ice, smoking snow,
Pours into its steel.
At white heat of numbness it stands
In the aimed hosing of ground-level fieriness.
It defied flesh and won't start.
Hands are like wounds already
Inside armour gloves, and feet are unbelievable
As if the toe-nails were all just torn off.
I stare at it in hatred. Beyond it
The copse hisses - capitulates miserably
In the fleeing, failing light. Starlings,
A dirtier sleetier snow, blow smokily, unendingly, over
Towards plantations Eastward.
All the time the tractor is sinking
Through the degrees, deepening
Into its hell of ice.
The starting lever
Cracks its action, like a snapping knuckle.
The battery is alive - but like a lamb
Trying to nudge its solid-frozen mother -
While the seat claims my buttock-bones, bites
With the space-cold of earth, which it has joined
In one solid lump.
I squirt commercial sure-fire
Down the black throat - it just coughs.
It ridicules me - a trap of iron stupidity
I've stepped into. I drive the battery
As if I were hammering and hammering
The frozen arrangement to pieces with a hammer
And it jabbers laughing pain-crying mockingly
Into happy life.
And stands
Shuddering itself full of heat, seeming to enlarge slowly
Like a demon demonstrating
A more-than-usually-complete materialization -
Suddenly it jerks from its solidarity
With the concrete, and lurches towards a stanchion
Bursting with superhuman well-being and abandon
Shouting Where Where?
Worse iron is waiting. Power-lift kneels
Levers awake imprisoned deadweight,
Shackle-pins bedded in cast-iron cow-shit.
The blind and vibrating condemned obedience
Of iron to the cruelty of iron,
Wheels screeched out of their night-locks -
Fingers
Among the tormented
Tonnage and burning of iron
Eyes
Weeping in the wind of chloroform
And the tractor, streaming with sweat,
Raging and trembling and rejoicing.
5.2k
maybe we were never meant to be.
maybe you did once love me.
**it's that 50% chance
of uncertainity**
that fail my relationships
Miserably.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 4:20 PM UTC
In the end,
Mars is just a rock.
A rock covered in sand,
Made of worn,
Rusty,
Iron.
That said,
It can't control me.
Only I can,
And that's a point of pride.
I sting as much as I will,
I pinch as much as I will,
And I'll sleep in your sandals
As much as I will.
Thankfully,
I often choose to be benevolent.
Only I can choose my morals,
And that's a point of pride.
I may be passionate,
I may be persistent,
Obsessive,
Loyal,
And manipulative all in one.
But I am that and more.
If Mars is meant to restrict me,
It has failed miserably.
Can the same be said
Of it's rusty sand?
Apr 3, 2010
Apr 3, 2010 at 9:30 PM UTC
You tore her apart for your own joy,
Her soul lies vacant and fragile,
Yet she faces the axe for getting *****
As no case ,can be filed.
You still roam around and live your life,
While she carries a perennial pain,
Who gave you the right to commit such a heinous crime,
And leave her miserably insane."
Unfortunately the past cannot be altered
but we can certainly look for a brighter future.
"I hope one day, there will be no stare,
I hope one day ,no one will care,
Whether the fabric ,is short or long,
Visible garments ...
Whether a mini skirt ,or a cloak,
Clothes aren't right or wrong,
It's your mind ,facing a deadlock.
I hope one day , no news of ****
I hope one day,no obscene tape
Is it so hard to achieve
A world free of harassment and eve- tease?"
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 12:23 PM UTC
square-up marys,
It’s junior year, in the ivie,
we’re gambling for big-chips.
so gambate, do-it-big!
It's time, buck-up or labron.
if you bunny rouble
homeskillets will hook-it-up
lovems juju
.
.
*slang…
girlogue = conversation between girls that guys can’t understand
square-up = get ready
marys = bookish and lovable girls of wit and looks
ivie = ivy league
big-chips = high stakes, high risk
gambate = Japanese word: 'Try your best!!'
do-it-big = take things to the next level
buck-up = rise to a challenge, to do something others are unable to
labron = fail miserably at the last second
bunny rouble = have trouble
homeskillets = friends
hook-it-up = help you out
lovems = sending you love
juju = good luck*
.
.
(*Get ready, you bookish and lovable girls of wit and looks,
it’s junior year, in the ivy league,
and we’re gambling for high stakes.
So try your best, take things to the next level!
It's time, to rise to a challenge and do something others are unable to
or fail miserably at the last second.
If you have trouble
your friends will help you out
I'm sending you love, good luck.*)
Jan 4, 2024
Jan 4, 2024 at 1:52 PM UTC
Law, say the gardeners, is the sun,
Law is the one
All gardeners obey
To-morrow, yesterday, to-day.
Law is the wisdom of the old,
The impotent grandfathers feebly scold;
The grandchildren put out a treble tongue,
Law is the senses of the young.
Law, says the priest with a priestly look,
Expounding to an unpriestly people,
Law is the words in my priestly book,
Law is my pulpit and my steeple.
Law, says the judge as he looks down his nose,
Speaking clearly and most severely,
Law is as I've told you before,
Law is as you know I suppose,
Law is but let me explain it once more,
Law is The Law.
Yet law-abiding scholars write:
Law is neither wrong nor right,
Law is only crimes
Punished by places and by times,
Law is the clothes men wear
Anytime, anywhere,
Law is Good morning and Good night.
Others say, Law is our Fate;
Others say, Law is our State;
Others say, others say
Law is no more,
Law has gone away.
And always the loud angry crowd,
Very angry and very loud,
Law is We,
And always the soft idiot softly Me.
If we, dear, know we know no more
Than they about the Law,
If I no more than you
Know what we should and should not do
Except that all agree
Gladly or miserably
That the Law is
And that all know this
If therefore thinking it absurd
To identify Law with some other word,
Unlike so many men
I cannot say Law is again,
No more than they can we suppress
The universal wish to guess
Or slip out of our own position
Into an unconcerned condition.
Although I can at least confine
Your vanity and mine
To stating timidly
A timid similarity,
We shall boast anyway:
Like love I say.
Like love we don't know where or why,
Like love we can't compel or fly,
Like love we often weep,
Like love we seldom keep.
4k
I was three years out of high school and finally getting
the chance to grow up. I’d been ready since before
graduation day. Everybody in the world was certain
that I would fail. I couldn’t succeed. Thanks for the vote
of confidence. I am proving them wrong. I’m succeeding,
maybe not thriving, but succeeding right before their very eyes.
Success is living on my own. Being able to do every household
chore on my own. Success is getting myself to and from where
I need to be in my broken down, beat up wheelchair. Success
is budgeting my money each month. Success is not getting killed
and ***** on my walk home from work in the dark. Success is
living up to their standards and way of life. Success is faking a smile.
I’ve learned more about life in the last eight months than ever before.
I’ve made mistakes, just like they said I would. What they didn’t count
on was me learning from those mistakes and picking up the pieces.
They told me I wouldn’t last more than a month, six weeks at the most.
I would ***** up, fail miserably, get hurt and hospitalized. Thank you
for the boost of self-esteem. It’s made me tougher than steel.
I may not be the perfect student, skinny blonde ***** award winning
page designer or most eloquent writer. I may not speak Spanish fluently,
have loads of extra cash lying around or a motorized, state of the art
wheelchair. Stop telling me what I need. I don’t need or want any of them.
Success is living how I want to live. Success is a productive day when I want
nothing but hot tea and soft music. Success is having the confidence to ask
for help when I’ve been told I shouldn’t. Success is making friends who can
read through my masquerade. Success is facing the consequences. Success is
found through red ink marks and piles of papers. Success is not letting those
who don’t believe in me get the best of me. Success is sunshine on a cloudy day
Aug 9, 2010
Aug 9, 2010 at 9:29 PM UTC
im hiding in all the places i promised you i would never go again
im singing the lullabys that remind me of old friends
but mostly just you
and your face, that was never blue
only on two occasions i had to see you cry
and i held you lovingly, promising i would never say goodbye
i guess i lied.
that's exactly what i did
im not going to fib
ripping out another rib as the days drag by
slowly, miserably, never by surprise
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
I'm the girl who is lost in space, the girl who is disappearing always, forever fading away and receding farther and farther into the background. Just like the Cheshire cat, someday I will suddenly leave, but the artificial warmth of my smile, that phony, clownish curve, the kind you see on miserably sad people and villains in Disney movies, will remain behind as an ironic remnant. I am the girl you see in the photograph from some party someplace or some picnic in the park, the one who is in fact soon to be gone. When you look at the picture again, I want to assure you, I will no longer be there. I will be erased from history, like a traitor in the Soviet Union. Because with every day that goes by, I feel myself becoming more and more invisible.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 10:01 AM UTC
“Who Am I?”
I am, who I am,
Whoever that is,
Whoever I was,
Whoever I become.
Others try to tell me
Who I am or should be,
I try not to listen to them,
Because in truth,
As to who I really am,
I don’t actually know,
At least for now I’m not,
One hundred percent sure.
Is there a Committie somewhere,
That directs such things?
Purveyors of personalities,
Dispensers’ of intelligence,
Measurers’ of ambition and success?
How to look, how to dress?
What is too fat,
What's too thin?
Perhaps some kind of scale,
To measure up,
Or down too?
Maybe there’s some magic formula,
When Mixed and taken,
Makes us who we “should” be?
But then, according to WHO?
As for all those other people,
Well meaning or not,
How can they possibly know more
About me, than I do?
I am a Work in progress,
Until I fail miserably,
Or until I’m dead,
Please have the decency,
To allow me, to be me,
And the time to find out.
'Cause frankly, all your
Premature pronouncements
Regarding me and who I am,
Is some really boring ****
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
Step 1. Delete everything. Delete her photos of her laughing, the picture of both of your shoes during a summer day you took after going to the book fair with her, the conversation you screenshotted of her saying "we are soulmates". It's too painful for you to bear now, you don't need a physical reminder of the void she left.
Step 2. Stay on routine. Wake up, get dressed, go to school, go to work, study, sleep. Be tired. Let your body ache as you lie down the cold mattress where the winter winds outside your window lulls you to sleep. Overthinking is your enemy.
Step 3. Write a letter for her. Tell her everything you wanted to say. How your heart broke a million pieces when she sent you her last text. How you thought she was going to be with you forever. Talk about the would've-been future you were going to have, the two cats you were supposed to raise, and the places you were supposed to see together. But don't ever send it.
Step 4. Don't go back to the day when it ended. December 6, 2018 at approximately 9:38 p.m. You were standing in the rain, she tells you "I don't feel good." and walks away, leaving you to stand there alone. It's the day where you finally see the cracks, but realized it's too late to fix a week later when she finally messages you.
Step 5. Stumble upon a TED Talk about getting over a heartbreak, you cry for 12 minutes straight watching it. You do what the speaker tells you because you feel lost. He said to write down a list of why this person is unfit for you, and you finally realized that love has made you look at her through cloudy filtered lens.
Step 6. Don't open her friend's snapchat stories and see her there, smiling, and having fun. Don't wonder if her heart is as broken as yours.
Step 7. Fail. Miserably. But get up anyway, because only time can tell.
Step 8. Get out of your comfort zone. Reach out to people, start conversations. Go to the places you planned to see with her, and see those places by yourself or maybe with other people.
Step 9. Find new hobbies, and go out on your own. Make new memories with other people and enjoy your own company.
Step 10. Know that 7 years is a long time to spend with someone, so it will take some time. But one day you will wake up and you won't even notice the void she has left.
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 9:39 PM UTC
His adorable curiosity
Heartfelt sincerity
Rare honesty
His heart's purity
Bring them back to me...
His comforting words
The kind I've never heard
Seductive and mellifluous voice
His contentment,with me as his choice
Bring them back to me...
His arousing fantasies
Romantic gestures
Perfect heartache remedies
Keeping me safe with a mysterious vesture
Bring them back to me...
The warmth of his skin
Soft whispers in my ears
Infectious wide grin
His undying trust, gathering my tears
Bring them back to me...
I'm not ready for another chapter
It's miserably unbearable
I know YOU are there, so please answer
My prayer for a miracle...
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
I don't love you any more
Nor do I love you any less
With you I feel I have reached the peak
Of pure happiness
That's why I really can't stand you
Being all by yourself
Need you to be here with me
And nobody else
Because I hate you
Being away from me
If this is all a test of time
I've failed it miserably
It's all over
Written on my face
The love I have for you my dear
Could never be replaced
So yes I don't love you any more
Nor do I love you any less
Because without you to keep me grounded
We both know my life would be a mess
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 8:05 AM UTC