"powerlessness" poems
Piggies dancing, floating along narrow passages towards what they hope is their ends. Their means have been stolen and packaged and sold by big suited, corporate, handy-handy machines. They eat piggies every day and love it, love it, love it down their gullet.
They are not worth a mention yet they get it, they want nothing but your attention, they don’t need it yet they get it. Their appetites are insatiable and contagious, they use it against us by showing us how we are nothing but what they are and we are fools enough to take it as Truth.
Shame.
We have shame because they debase us and hence debase themselves.
We have shame because we see their debasement and yet powerlessness is in our bones.
We have shame because all we want is not all we get and nowhere near all we deserve,
-it measures much lower.
It is irrelevant, it is biased, it is useless, IT is un-real-(UnRealistic, UnRelated, UnTrue)
Lie.
If my breath stinks or my hair is greasy or my cloths ***** my teeth yellowed, my feet smelly, my nails long, my social life quiet and solicitous- will you discern a negativity in my human-ness? We are no villains. We hate only those who would have us believe that we must hate ourselves and each other. They are no beasts like us. The animal within, encased by a carapace of Humanity glued and mortared by self-centered ideologies gets too thick and you must break it by looking at yourself. ******** and ******* and spitting and grunting and moaning in ecstasy and pain.
Repeat after me and say it loud with beastly yell “ I am a ********* beautiful Animal!”
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 7:07 PM UTC
When we think about the choices in our lives
When we fight and we bicker and become bitter
When we think there is only power or powerlessness
If we can realize that there is power and powerlessness
Then haven't we began to acquire consciousness
In that instance haven't we began the process of choice
That there is those who have not have given birth to this consciousness
To those who have only lived powerlessness
And know nothing else
Haven't you owed them part of your consciousness
That you have ceased to be one of them
Or your mere power has denied one of them
That there is no choice for them
Because they haven't birthed that consciousness
And if you choose power they'll remain powerless
Because within you there is no loyalty, right?
It is a choice predicated by an erroneous concept of self-preservation
It is a treacherous dichotomy; doesn't make sense
This is not an indictment of your desire not to suffer
Because surely to hold power would cease your suffering
But it is this type of power that thrives on the proliferation of powerlessness
This conceptual understanding of what it means to have power
That is not what we've come learn, but readily ascribe to
That a mind and body can cultivate power
That can be harvested, shared, communal
For the sole purpose of the survival of the other, not the self
That that can survive in this world is impossible
Its antithetical to the modes of production
In which our societies operate and thrive
How can workers begin to derive power from their collective efforts
How can workers' purchasing power equal the power of the production of their labor
How can any community in any corner of the world escape
The misanthropic missions of first world free trade capitalism
When will we reclaim our escaping humanity
When will we cease to keep feeding the system with our minds, our bodies, our labor
How much longer can we become fodder, scraps, waste feeding the machine
And don't think that you are safe when you have made it
When you have entered the circle of dominance
Because it is then when you will loose your humanity or die
It is at that apex of power that your presence becomes
Just as dispensable as that of the powerless
Because to maintain that circle of dominance
Requires a total conversion to misanthropy
The rigor with which your power will be required
To keep proliferating powerlessness will give no break
And when you become useless, it will replace you
So that we must realize that the modes of production
That we allow to exploit us
In powerlessness, or the semblance of power
Can never safeguard our humanity
How much further will we allow power to be concentrated
So that soon we ourselves, or our children won't have a choice
Won't have the consciousness of power just powerlessness
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 9:49 PM UTC
I remember her as a little girl walking into a classroom with pigtails and a hand full of green glass bangles, today she is the bride and her smile breaks the reality of adulthood and powerlessness of human life to run back as children.
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 8:34 AM UTC
Sinner
What have I done to my world?
Egrets
Pelicans
Whales
Are you diving into the plume
A 10 mile depth of black hell?
Are you in another dimension now?
Have you given up on this world of
Easy living?
I am guilty.
I work too much and care less
As one superficial lifestyle Blends into the other
Money seems like security blanket
It is Not.
My land is covered in a part of me that dies
As the sea spits up the overdose of
Consumerism.
Each time I feel the powerlessness of hope fade
I take my plastic water bottle and throw it into a
Bin labeled
RECYCLE…
HA!
Plastic
OIL OIL OIL…
PLASTIC
******* Hell,
I bet oil is in my food chain somewhere
A box that makes it easy to cook in
A packing tool to deliver me the goods
OIL OIL OIL
Saturated Guilt
I feel like a harlot
A sinner
A part of something I cannot stop
I don’t want my world to look like this
Stop Me.
From the desire for convenience
Let me take living down a notch or two
Let me see with a part of me that is lost
THIS IS A CRY IN
(the
sledge of redemption)
I remember my body gave me another chance
When I filled it with poisons that made me feel good (you know what they are)
Will you do the same?
Oh heavenly body that holds my own.
Can you ever forgive me?
Linaji
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 1:02 PM UTC
utter futility of self righteous anger
wraps it's dark cloud around me.
my brain becomes foggy, and my
perception becomes distorted.
love feels like hate, and pain feels like freedom.
my fear leads to anger, which leads to a split
second choice where my fists punch a concrete
wall.
my hand explodes with pain that spreads to my arms
and then to my whole body. the pain numbs my inner
pain and discomfort. I want to be a spiritual person, but
sometimes I'm just a frail human being afraid to feel hurt,
so I numb myself with pain. Utter insanity to try to escape
suffering by self-harm, but that's what happens sometimes.
I am left facing the wall cradling my hand. I am left with a feeling of utter futility. My own powerlessness over my
self destructive behavior leaves me humbeled and willing to ask for help. God, help me let go. Help me not harm myself and others. Help me feel emotional discomfort without resorting to
punching walls. Help me be free.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 12:48 AM UTC
those that survive
accept their powerlessness
those that thrive
say my brother before me
to prosper
the proof must persuade
clipping the cord
venturing beyond the lovely chaos
drifting to never return
a vagrant now
wandering in search of potential
when the opportunity rises
pacific prodding, pointing, guiding,
as was done for you
there must be some mystery
key in hand
the ultimate test
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 3:45 AM UTC
Faintly, faintly, I’m beginning to hear you.
“Teacher” is what I call you, and what you are to me.
“Teach me.” No matter where I may be
my identity will apparently always be
“The Student” and I, like an actor given a role,
play it.
Quietly, a pair of eyes gaze sponge-like
at your catalogue of lessons,
trying to erase the body —
— which is too loud, too needy,
too everything —
and try not to let you be drowned out
by my dreams, my ideas, my expectations.
What are you saying now?
Something about… my own powerlessness?
Not the throngs of swans and the songs of the dawn?
Instead, prolonged wrongs and the dawning sense
that I don’t belong here?
No! No, that can’t be the lesson.
I am too natural, too sky-edged.
I’m too much the daughter of moss,
too akin to the hanging lichen that drapes ghost-like off the trees
and too free, heart up against the sea.
In short, too me.
But this means nothing to you.
I have to go quiet again, stop filling in the blanks
with words and more words. Recalling my role,
I listen for a lesson.
(And this is the first lesson I learn:
“Be Quiet And Listen”)
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 2:11 AM UTC
Oh, how infinitely small
And trivial I am
A single atom
A speck of dust
Within the cosmos
Vast and endless
Strange, how such powerlessness
Can be so empowering
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 12:52 PM UTC
How can I explain
The impossibility of your complaint
The way it feels you pray to feel
Yet I pray you never feel this way
But to understand my pain
You would have to become
The thing that I am
You completely despise
My manipulation
And constant lies
I feel so powerless
So weak over drugs
One quick thought
Overpowers your love
With only thoughts of using
Urges that can't be tamed
But your not to blame
Powerless a feeling u pray to know
So u may know my pain
But no man should feel
Such pain that I do
Unless life's path
Has told u too
Out of love
U believe my lies
As bad as I want to be clean
I can't stop getting high
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 4:58 AM UTC
Lighting screams above the untamed oceans water
Cars are crashing in the sky creating mini light shows
A once serene breeze is scolding with razor blades and stones
The solid ground once roamed is now being swam and traveled by boats
Cries of despair and panic are felt throughout the catastrophic scene
Bodies of no breathe are racing by in the current of an angry flood that holds no mercy
Family's are torn from their clutches never to be touched again, mothers and fathers are falling to their knees sobbing of the loss of their children
In this moment of infinite sadness, we the people are helpless, powerless.
Nothing but a small seed upon a world larger then itself
Destruction during powerlessness
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 7:55 PM UTC
Contentment reigns in the freedom from restraint
In your radiant, creative light
Warmth rushes in as you achieve what you hope for
Upon this wondrous night
You have so cleverly withdrawn to fight another day
Disengaged and retained your hope
Turned the pages and the tide in your own favor
Along the way, you have learned to cope
Confusion once lead you to feel a powerlessness
A bitter sorrow for your past
Now you have learned to focus on the bottom line
Gaining a strength inside to last
Irresponsibility and indecision you have laid to rest
Along with frustration and inner strife
As you release the hold of all the gray skies
Shadowing the light in your life
Wonderful surges of vitality, wash throughout your soul
Heralding a new day to begin
You have found your inner spirits, truth and balance
The gray skies hold, has come, to an end
Aug 5, 2010
Aug 5, 2010 at 8:10 PM UTC
Sombre loneliness in the abyss of power
Where selfishness begets solitude,
In which the powerful ones that be
Eminently hang alone self-ostracized
In a high catacomb of democracy
From which is connived the foul whims
Of dictatorship, the sole protégé
Of deliberate exclusion, rendering mankind
To beautiful menace of powerlessness
A pedestal on which civilsations of Africa
Substantially dangle in a stand.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 4:22 AM UTC
Hobbling out of bed
Half dead
I'm led
To the bathroom
The shower a vacuum
Of my powerlessness
But first i ****
Then get in
**** out the contaminants
Of my ***** habits
And i scrub
I scrub off
The plastic love
The mean mug
And tug on my ****
Plant a vision til it pops
And drop
To the shower floor
Tilt my head back
And gurgle to the gods
For more
Scrub the grill
Lay a towel on the floor
Suit up for a war
Two sprays of cologne
And im out the door
Headphones on
Angels atoning
To the morning
As im floating
Through the fog
Descending in my grog
Along the path
Like a lab rat
For a slab of cheese
Through the swamps
And trees
Trampling
Dead things
And leafs
And im seen
By nobody
As i ascend a hill
To the corporate power
Where ill cower
For nine hours
Before reporting home
Going to bed
And waking up
To do it all again
Its blue collar zen
And im bored
So fraking bored
With my chores
Id rather scribble sounds
Into forms
Verbal storms
Visual cores
Implored
To explore
The tortured
Terms in torrents
Of turbulent
Talks with dead gods
And im born
Into the horns
Ive sworn
To protect
In widows peaks
And deepened
Speeches
I'm infected
With my perfection
Torn
In the muffled traces
Of noiselessness
Among the space-less
Distances
To my sentences
Taking out the crackles
And recording
Over the blemishes
Relishing
The fragile moments
Of eloquence
In **** jokes
And threatening
Gestures
Jesting
The restructuring
Of molesting
Verbiage beat
Over the mic
Delusions enticed
In my writes
Of fights
In long sleepless nights
Of rhyming
With bad timing
And mumbling
Of slimy things
Bubbling in the cuts
Dubsteped to **** fits
Sunkissed in lacking curtains
Disturbing the certainty
Of sleep
And cheapening
My dreams
Rolling over
Planting my feet
Upon wood floors
Hobbling toward
Tomorrow
Sorrowfully
Repeating
The same thing
Washing away the sleep
And fleeing
My creativity
For the rest of the week
(in progress)
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
*the feminine powerlessness of art, and the then again strict rubric of Darwinism's dictatorial regime to talk cool - sieg heil throughout, as a running honk! honk! (joke) on the sly.*
a testimony to high school:
don't ever listen to The Smiths
or The Cure, or Depeche Mode....
or any of my uncle's **** list...
the point being,
you can swagger among
Eucalyptus trees and feed the frenzy
like any Ibiza patron might;
cos' there's a koala rummaging
your drawers so to speak:
due to an episode of king's testicles
in the attic - hey presto!
a grand piano! hey presto! coronation's
fireproof underwear!
lovey dubby dub dub, and a coercive
test for nibbling on a Maltese ginger...
dabbling the fearsome offence...
the only school Morrissey attended was nostalgia.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 9:49 PM UTC
It topples; end over end.
It has ever since that asteroid banged into it,
sending it tumbling.
It's thoughts, like its formerly outside layer of rock, are scattered.
It's not sure if it wants to continue spinning or not. At the same time, it recognizes it's powerlessness before the hand of physics.
It does not know when another asteroid will make contact.
It wants to crash into a planetary body, so as to be apart of something bigger.
It wants gravity to pull it in, slowly caressing it home. It doesn't know where that will be, but it remembers, a long time ago, being much larger. And faintly, it remembers, even longer ago, of being very much smaller.
It can almost remember when it, along with everything else in the universe, was one. It can almost remember the warmth of the force that dispersed it and it's sisters everywhere they could possibly be. Forever.
Eternity is the only concept it can truly understand.
It's beginning to understand that it doesn't so much like this idea of Forever,
but these thoughts will take millennia upon millennia to form,
and many times that long to be understood.
An other asteroid passes within two miles of it and it almost gets excited.
Maybe tomorrow, it thinks, maybe tomorrow, maybe tomorrow, maybe tomorrow.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 4:59 PM UTC
The rule of the self is exalted above
any adherence to any thing/feeling.
Their notions of doubt ruling over existence and
is in the supreme station of reason and power.
It sheds the former existence of yesterday
inasmuch as we are always recreated.
The philosopher's stone which
can conceive of no other thought
except the originality of the self.
It drinks the seven seas as if a drop and
asks, "Is there yet any more?"
No authority save the intimate friend
can find its way here.
Every stranger is betrayed and
its chariot becomes outworn for the rider.
And when they look at themselves
they behold their powerlessness in
the face of every nation, which
simply makes them embark on
the conquest of their own heart.
Every listener is as a bullet to their
enemy.
Every truth is as a fallen warrior
for their Cause.
No wind is sufficient to curtail their
sense of direction.
Every human acknowledged is as a piece
of sand supporting their path.
There is no end to their perturbing of the skies.
The poem is unfinished as the scribe of
their tale is astounded by the
regeneration of their march.
Jul 24, 2021
Jul 24, 2021 at 1:45 PM UTC
Biting cold, storm and earthquake
Remind about formidable beasts
Biting and eating sans any mercy
Innocent prey knowing nil of fight!
Disaster upon disaster when comes
All in one one has no word to say
Except succumb to **********
Silent sans mood to survive at all!
If at all survival is possible by chance
Perhaps it's for telling the story of
Formidable foe's nature to world,
Powerlessness of man before Nature!
As long as heaven is there hell is also there;
This is the story of painful pleasure of life!
Dec 21, 2011
Dec 21, 2011 at 1:05 PM UTC
Foolish Iniquity ensued by sensation,
all to which led to such a foreboding culmination.
And what was the interpretation?
The evaluation of pure desolation derived from wickedness,
and destruction caused by commotion produced by the most riveting of distortions.
Her visage was more than what my aim wanted.
However, when she took me in,
I was more than just delighted.
Had she not known that I was peasant compared to her royalty?
Yet, my loyalty far surpassed our incongruity.
But my days had never left without a urge of urgency.
And for that, scrutiny had to take place.
And when I noticed the connection to the King,
my words I began to be misplaced.
Her heart chasing down the stairs of emotion.
Commotion awaiting at daybreak.
Her heart is still mine, to date.
The king's tyranny fell alongside the shores of his own
consequence; decadence.
And thus, the many people were saved
and no one ever complained.
For it wasn't the relationship that was aimed,
it was for the timely-tamed.
My reward was given for my works,
And a stab to the heart around lurked.
And subjected I was to my own powerlessness,
All because of my decadence.
In pain I awaited for my death,
But to no avail.
Was I ever so frail to even care?
I was granted another chance to redeem myself.
My heart so gracefully allocated to the night.
A chance to shed light to those within the purest of darkness.
My actions were not for naught, forever in my might.
They were all freed by me,
Yet, imprisoned I will forever be.
To show the way, if need be.
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 12:28 AM UTC
A constant struggle
Putting together fractions of the unsolved puzzle
Smashing your head against the wall
As you lament by draining your waterfall
Rupturing every bit inside you
Expressing the powerlessness you thought you outgrew
Sono innamorata
Flowing through me like burning lava
It's unfathomably superb
Keeps you on high hopes
And a stage of being morosely absurd.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 1:22 PM UTC
There is no stopping it.
A tsunami as high as the sky
Casts its shadow around me.
I tried to run,
But now I surrender,
Standing still beneath it.
Let it pour down over me.
I will drown,
In my love for you.
Oct 28, 2021
Oct 28, 2021 at 4:01 PM UTC
MENTAL PATIENT WRITING SOMETHING
Ayad Gharbawi
February 19, 2010 – Damascus, Syria
I love you all you
Or, all of you
I guess
I should write
Properly
Happy ones
Yes you!
Living you all
Drinking air
Vacuous nonentities
Am I describing myself or yourselves?
Supreme in my brutal
Powerlessness
Inertia is my magnificent pulse
Loss is my definition
That defines
My dumbest elemental stench
I live to see so-called teeth grinding
My teeth
Actually
I talk about
Am I being grammatical correct for you all?
Worms satanic
Within
Eyeballs melting from Sorrrow
And they then
Continually
Keep
Bleeding and looking fractured and pale
Didn’t Sane People
Tell me
Eyes are Souls into
Our lost Selves?
Or, something similar?
Weeping Nerves
That are
To dry
To move
Without a breakdown
I am scared, in a bed, a room
I involuntarily break my idiotically stretched lips
So, I become shy
From you all onlookers
Doctors and Visitors
Or Relatives?
Who’s who here?
And,
If I fake
That pointless
Smile
For any ashamed passerby
A sad banner
Shall be there -
Announcing my
Smashed structure
And functionless music
Will tell you my homeless address
Of my abandoned Mind and Flesh.
-----
Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 9:04 AM UTC
The shackles,
so inviting.
You need no control.
Give your control to the shackles,
They love it…that’s what they are meant for right?
Take control from the occupant.
He must obey.
Must be taken away.
To where?
He has no say,
The shackles love the control
And he loves the powerlessness.
Nothing is expected,
Nothing needed,
He gets joy from being powerless
Powerless of what happens and free
Everything is let go.
No memories, responsibilities,
the shackles have taken it all away
The shackles love the control
You just need to get away.
The relationship gives both just what they need,
At least they think, at least for a second.
One more drop, their grip grows tighter.
Take it all, not just some.
“sure another”
They beckon and you ponder
Then he tips it back.
Both think this is what needs to happen
Made up their mind
Another down
just let it happen
the shackles love the control
take it from me,
all worries,
pain,
everything,
it’s their’s not mine.
He thinks.
The shackles love the control.
His eyes open, no shackles in sight.
Just empty bottles and a faint light.
He thinks it’s going to be ok, at least by tonight.
Knowing he’ll feel the familiar metal clamped tight.
as he grips the glass in fright.
Scared of it all
The memories,
The empty thoughts,
The unresponsiveness of the sky.
He gives up, gives it all up
Throws the key,
And just lets it be.
Clamped tight for the night
He has let go of it all
Thanks to the cold remedy he thinks heals him so well…
Until his eyes open on another glimps of light
In an unfamiliar place
Maybe this will finally end him of this destructive chase.
Or to another breakdown,
Maybe the same whirlwind
That he just spent the last 8 hours in
The shackles love the control.
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 11:13 AM UTC
The end of his strength it comes in a rush
a wildfire burning destroying in lust
the joys of a life are forgotten in turn
passions and trusts that were once so bright
paled to nothingness, haunted remains
they cry in quiet voices, the roaring above
drowning the sorrowful sounds of lost lives
what he was has long since passes through silent halls
of what may have become only ashes that stir
no dormant embers lay hidden to ignited in pain
a fiery expanse, though grey as the burnt sky
an emptiness within and without reflecting each side
the end of his strength it came in a rush
The end of his will it came on but slow
endless dripping of acid on stone
shallow grooves to begin, easy ignored
forgotten within the raging tempest surrounding
then stone is gone and he along with it
the pain long left flows in furious tides
aches from the past, for without his armour
the wounds that will not heal are open to the void
not seen or felt when present, pressures innumerable
with dawning realization, for all things do hurt
the treatment of others as knives in the mind
hurting themselves to pain those loved to hurt once more
cycles of pain of hate of suffering
impacting upon an open soul
and the end of his will did come but slow
The end of his patience came dressed as fury
a relentless glacial desire plunging in anger
sweeping all before leaving naught, torn earth
disguised at rage at this world, this life
screaming in powerlessness for he cannot protect
or any for it is themselves, screaming and crying
in a denial that cannot be expressed in fears
or the red steam of blood shed under cause
only shown in a heart of ice that has suffered enough
scars of loves lost, trusts betrayed marking emotional flesh
twisting the shape of what was once straight, true
a mockery of man seen in sneering lips that did smile
in heavy hands that once caressed ever gentle
memories of life buried in uncompromising overwhelming agony of ice
the end of his patience burning as fury
Darkness creeps in as it ever does on light
until there is naught left but shadows and mists
as rest comes for him with final gasp he breathes
At last, at last.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 8:35 AM UTC