"neglectfully" poems
I don't live here
I'm only camping
On this planet
I didn't plan it
Yet I feel the need to explain it
As the plaintiff
To the sheriff
Imposing tariffs
Money is their concern
While my emotions burn
They are somewhat surviving
At the price of dying
That's the cost of lying
It makes us stop trying
Only commodity buying
While silently sighing
And violently frying
Through fruitless searches
No matter what we purchase
Or how much we spend
The gripping grief never ends
When there are no hands to lend
There are no problems with these items
When we willingly refuse to sight them
They are from where our problems erupt
For we neglectfully allow them to disrupt
The connections that our hearts yearn for
And our wallets burn for
When we spend our emotions on inanimate objects
To avoid the intangible subject
Of love
We're frightened of phantoms
A life heightened by tandem
Is not in the cards
We buy for each other
They don't begin to cover
The way we feel
They are a shield
For our true emotions
Objects can't evoke one
Yet that's our language for expression
Consumerism acts as our lethal injection
Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 4:56 PM UTC
"Sit down boy, you're tired and you must sleep"
The voice said to me as I walked the city street
Fuzzy steps taken to a bench I saw over yonder
Sleepily wandering, the streetlights I ponder
Passive disorientation, I'm lost it would seem
Consciousness becomes a trickle, as opposed to a stream
Dragging myself over shards of glass, paralysed and sleeping
A shadow 'neath the moonlight seems to be steadily creeping
Isolated in this park in the darkness on a sigma plateau
Dextromethorphan hallucinations are a spectacular show
I'm indifferent to the stranger, drowsy as he appears
Isolated in the nighttime winds, apathetic to his tears
Uncoordinated my head falling he takes a seat softly
Dissociative disorder makes me seem awfully frosty
Speaking of lands where the populace truly is free
Speaking unintelligible words, indirectly to me
The intrinsic disconnect of this generation scorned
As the sun rises in the sky, glittered clouds adorned
My head lulls lackadaisically, I'm feeling unwell
But my stomach is eased when I think of sweet Maybelle
[Hers is a Nabokovian tale of passion in proto-dystopian wastelands
The first time we kissed, I held her soft head tenderly in my hands
The serenade of rain pitter-patter on the ground, like her feet when she's near
and hearing her name is as cathartic as those old jazz records I hold so dear
But, oh my pretty Belle, your age is a concern to me (and the eyes of the law)
So to forget your sweet face, I pop pills neglectfully, passing out on the floor]
Lifting head slowly from the rough ground dampened
Four years passed and I'm wondering what happened
Fuzzy headed blues, clear my mind with OJ and ******
Walking fast to her house, cannot wait to see her
A rap-tap on the door with thoughts of romantic enumerations
What she said and what I saw defied every one of my expectations
My innocent Belle, with her cheeks rosy red,
looks me in the eyes, and wishes I was dead
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 7:08 AM UTC
I have washed my sheets hundreds of times
All in an effort to purge the memory of you
Your scent permeating my clothing
As thou you were the one inhabiting them
There is no sense in trying to get rid of you
My body has molded itself into your submissive
I have become so accustomed to your touch
Addicted to the sensation
Needing a fix, we both seek a night of sin
You have infiltrated my mind
Reading my thoughts
Manipulating me
Saying all the things you know I want to hear
Body stained with the blood of my lips
You stare down at me
I have once again been fooled by those eyes
Glowing with lust
I am swallowed whole by your insatiable desire for me
In my compliant nature, I kneel at your feet
Following ever command you utter
My body broken from the chains you’ve placed on me
I belong to you, property for you to tend to
But that night meant nothing to you
Those words you spoke, were all in an effort to exploit my vulnerability
I neglectfully admit that it worked
You have me, once again, at your service
It would be wise of me to end this already
For the sake of my own sanity and dignity
Consumed by your charm, but deterred by our past
I am drawn in
The alcohol rushing through my veins and the music radiating through my body
Nothing mattered in the moment, but now,
I am the fool who slept with you
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 2:32 PM UTC
I sit alone in this park that I’ve known for so long, and listen to bird’s songs, in the hopes my mind will grow tranquil and clam.
I await words to write, to relieve some strife, seeking merely a sliver of a slice of peace of mind. But time comes to a halt, as ghosts with a waltz, dance through my head causing dread, harboring memories from when I was young.
Still naïve and oblivious of the strenuous afflictions to come.
With thoughts collected, I reminisce these recollections, of when the world was filled with bliss, and wish that life was still like this.
When every day is an adventure to be treasured and joy is never severed, I’m care free because responsibility does not exist, within, my limited vocabulary yet.
Each day is met with set structures from a structured home, where mom and dad, still pretend they’re glad, which means I have no reason to be sad. And so, I still don’t know, what it’s like to feel alone, in a broken failing home.
Normalcy becomes conformity, complacently but blatantly forming a shell of apathy.
Because now dad yells, and the children’s eyes swell, with tears of fear, my mom’s with sheer, determination to captain this ship, stubbornly sit, amidst, these waves of irritation mixed with infidelity.
I found myself stuck in a storm, totally torn, as my joy is worn consistently down. I clown around to be sound, but a permanent frown, is brazenly embroidered into my broodingly breaking soul.
Time flew by ignored my cries to slow, and so my consciousness consented its blissfulness to turn to bitterness, my brokenness was all that I knew, and soon, it was all I could show.
Although now I’m older, still too often I smolder with rage, and both shoulders have boulders, for chips but I’ll fight fate, abate my hate, to keep my future family safe.
Safe from the games my parents played to hide their shame, of a marriage disparaged by barriers, bolstered with a selfish taint. I will sufficiently and selflessly safeguard my wife from treachery. To not neglectfully or carelessly, lead her into insanity. For bride and seed, I will succeed, to do everything my parents failed to do for me.
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 12:35 AM UTC
The fear of rejection haunts my taunting soul
The eyes of god illuminate through the illusion of hope
Silence
Misery creeps among the stars
Honesty lingers mindlessly around the moon
Anxious
Reality twists and turns
Insecurity starts to flow
Outbursts and thoughts dance with one another
Thoughts travel
From the mind
Through the guileless heart
Midnight skies thunder in contemplation
Omitted while resigning from solitude
Lighting beams impressions
And strikes unforgettably
Remorse
Rose are quandary veiled in thorns
Glamorized secrets
Planted with tulips in the Spring
Vibrations spirit forth the branches of trees
Fog
Masks the anthropomorphic perception
Triggers instinct of intuition
Rationality halts, wills relish
The eyes of god forsake hope
Fear taunts thoughts
Rejection haunts souls
Misfortunes recollect the bitter anima
Lightly, the amity surrenders in the panicked streams of night
Soundly,
Charitably,
And Sincerely,
Tongue tied she scrupulously riveted
Across the room she neglectfully obscured the chair that supported his back
Togging on strands of denigrated comfort
Grains of sand that endless lay the shore
Mindless their eyes gravitated in contact
thirty seconds of encrypted reflections
Breathless laid rejection
She consigned to oblivion
Gathered by curiosity he sternly attends the strength
“What’s wrong?”
Admiration beams from the brims of his eyes
Grim of Frustration leak from her ****** expression
Hesitated
Continuously and distract she roamed away from him his thoughts
And admiration
Paralyzed by fear
Silence drives her composer
deeply and thoughtfully she inhaled
Breathlessly
— “A cup of coffee would sound nice, wouldn’t it?”
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 12:08 PM UTC
The children of today befoul
Their grandparents with disrespect
And nurture their own children
With television shows and neglect.
They don’t teach children to be kind
And fail to teach them not to cheat.
So they grow up morally blind
Expecting to be paid to be sweet.
These kids were raised defectively
That hits it on the nose.
When you treat them so neglectfully
That’s just the way it goes.
They grow thinking they can get
Everything they desire.
And when they fail to get their way
They set the place on fire.
Now we have generations of them
Like hogs on the living room couch
Shoving their faces greedily
Like they’re a royal grouch.
They ***** if they think someone
Is getting more than they do.
But ask them to vote differently
And they whine they don’t want to.
They never notice that they dress
Like they did as in their teens.
Football jersies, shoes untied
Baseball caps and old jeans.
They say the same old crap
They used to say, not much new
About girls, and the car they drive
And what they’d like to do.
These kids were raised defectively
That hits it on the nose.
When you treat them so neglectfully
That’s just the way it goes.
They grow thinking they can have
A life of nothing but fun.
And when they fail to get their way
They go and get a gun.
Ask them names of those people
Got elected to represent.
Most of them barely know
The name of the President.
They don’t vote, they don’t go
Even so far as the local PTA.
This is the American voter
The kind we put up with today.
These kids were raised defectively
That hits it on the nose.
When you treat them so neglectfully
That’s just the way it goes.
They grow thinking they can get
What other people own.
It’s like these losers found a way
To live in the Twilight Zone
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
We fight to gain,
Betray, manipulate, coerce, and cause pain.
A shadowy dream lingers with the strongest weapon, hope.
Shining a light on the darkest hour, it persuades the poor helping to cope.
Condemn the masses to eternal submission without question,
Sign ourselves away to perish with an unequal portion.
Knowingly we adopted the vile, the ****** we neglectfully signed on the dotted line;
Willingly give our money, homes taking all they can find.
Digging our graves, camping bare, wilting away;
The royal transmit imperishable wealth to which they say.
95% still stand waiting to bat, while the privilege not even having to run the bases.
It is easy to steal and manipulate with authority without seeing the faces,
Of the people made to fail, functioning as your stepping stone to higher class,
Leaving the rest in the concentration camps of the working class.
Humanity is flawed with deception and greed,
Our society does not wash the hand that feeds.
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 7:42 PM UTC
The constellations hide tonight.
The only light I can see is from dim porch bulbs from far off houses. They've
been neglectfully left on while their weary owners rest, and they flicker
relentlessly, threatening to leave me in the darkness.
It's just me and the pines tonight; their silhouettes towering like deities over
me. A coyote wails in the distance, his cry carrying over miles. I lay back
onto the grass and mourn with him. Together, we howl into the night, our
tormented wails evaporating into the charcoal sky.
Jul 23, 2012
Jul 23, 2012 at 8:01 PM UTC
My futile need
To work hand in hand
Acts neglectfully
As the renaissance did too,
To the common man.
Hindrance met,
Frail streams deterred,
- as I -
Man amongst boys
Fall in, and am
Cured
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
In Loving Wild.
Wild has flower child
in fact wild has flavors of flowers
that are it's children.
descended into more wildflowers.
Wild is like mother nature carelessly.
stubbornly religiously uncontrollably
Wild.
Wild has five states.
in the United States.
Very unique states
of their own.
Each with Wild Childs.
That's loving wildly.
Wilds love is hardly loving.
It's a distant, suffering
typed mother's nature.
In her kingdom of states,
she was mothered wildly.
Can love be so neglectfully
shared?
Yet seem friendly,
unknowingly friendly,
uncomfortably.
While separating the states.
causing distance between the United States
of America.
Within America in spite of America.
Mother's Daughters Greats and Grands.
ONE Nation individually with justice for all.
The dividing of it all.
@h.e.r_poetry/Sharday thoughts &
May 8, 2023
May 8, 2023 at 8:49 PM UTC
Contempt this freedom,
Need enslavery for security;
Feel apathy, regret, hopelessness;
Path of continuity - too easy, too often.
Provoke temptress's scorn
Mislead the misadventure
Furtive undermining conscious
Tripped out and over-bored
Neglectfully narcissistic, never satiated.
---------
I don't want to be a poet,
Intellectually engaged with conceptuality;
I want to be popular,
Adored for simplistic, concise axioms -
Connective understatements stated plainly.
On second thoughts...now I realise...
I don't want to be popular - I want to be an advertiser!
---------
Comrade, yours is the sweetest victory:
Ruled the collection, dispersed, then died.
Never to know the scorn foreshadowed;
Realising no fulfilment, save vengeance
Of victims truncated and tortured raw;
Hollowed abomination, human condemnation.
---------
What am I saying?
To whom?
Of whom?
Since when?
Why now?
For what?
How come?
Where from?
[Who's who, who knows whom!?]
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC