"ridiculousness" poems
My auspicious and audacious assault augments the annoyance of aged accomplices.
My bodacious broadside of boffolas berates and buffaloes bros beneficently.
A classy crusade Clownishly chiseling and criticizing childishness.
A devilish ********** of dillydallying dullards; devoutly denying dimwits the dulcet dream of defiance.
Excessive, exuberant edification, ebulliently eliminating education-evictees.
A fair-weather frolic in flippancy with furious fools floundering in flawed foppishness.
Gregariously grating glum guys gleefully, growing grander garnishes of gripping gallantry gaily.
Heckling hooligans highlights my heavenly humor.
Irreverently irking irritable, iniquitous idiots in inestimably infuriating and incredible instances.
A jolly, jocular **** joking with jerks.
A kreiger kicking kleptomaniacs in the karyotype. (Cut me some slack, this is 'k', after all.)
A ludicrous, laughing lambaste of lollygagging lunatics, loftily loosing luscious lunacy on lucky losers.
A magnificent masterpiece of malfeasance, a monstrous, malevolent mission of massive misfortune for the minor minors missing no malicious missive.
A noxious, narcissistic niggling of nitwits, niftily nixing the noisome naivete of niggardly nobs.
An offhand, off-color outburst of outlandish observations to outclass the obnoxious overtures of obsequious offal.
A pragmatic prediction of possible platitudes or platypi, a placid parley of pyrotechnic pleasantries provoking Pyrrhic protections by prurient prats.
A quixotic quibble quarreling with a queer quarry.
Ribald ribbing, ruining the robust reality of the repreachful, repugnant, and rapacious with risque ridiculousness.
A silly, slighting slander of sluglike slavishness, succinctly sinking sloppy simpletons sourly.
Tracing the titillating talent of towing tyranny to towering terrors to tactless, togless, terrapins of the times.
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 11:25 PM UTC
Today I took a walk down memory lane
With some people from my past.
Your name never came up
But your shadow haunted every
Turn in conversation and we did our best
To ignore it.
In fact we did our best to pretend
That your existence was not real,
But then someone mentioned,
"Hey remember that time we...."
And flashbacks of suppressed visions
Of things I had hoped to never see again
Simply because they're not important
To who I am now
Flooded my stream of consciousness
And I chose to think of you.
To think of that time in that place
Where we did that thing....
And the more I think about it
The fuzzier it becomes.
I can't quite picture
The people, the room, the music,
The embarrassment, the shame, the guilt,
The utter ridiculousness of it all.
And the harder I try to grasp at the edges
Of the fraying memory
To bring it back into something whole,
Something vivid and full,
The darker and slipperier it gets.
And suddenly it dawns on me
Why it was easy to forget in the first place:
It just doesn't matter.
Who you were, who I was,
What you did, what I did,
Just doesn't matter
So what's the point in remembering?
Today I took a walk down memory lane
But decided it was far more enjoyable
To make a u-turn and walk
Away from you again.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 12:47 AM UTC
Fact: Bananas have more trade regulations than AK-47s.
Something healthy must be having such ridiculous regulations,
But not the Kalashnikov as it won't be good for trade relations.
But hey, even she dubs me as her loving exclusive AK-47,
'Coz my name is Atul Kaushal - the letters are 4 and 7!
I shoot poetry and spilled is love instead of blood.
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 2:07 AM UTC
so this is where it ends
still drunk, in a shabby room with half full bottles of liquor
last night stuck in your hair,
glitter like snowflakes of a single night out’s winter
this is where it ends
heart broken, shattered in two
hung up and longing two years after
his name a poison on your lips you refuse to stop tasting
this is where it ends
wallowing in dreadful self-loathing,
contemplating your idle blues, your black hole of sadness
the smile you wear is but a painful reminder
this is where it ends
with your small group of girls, fellow high heeled warriors
lip glossed and pretty, shiny hair and perfect skin
dressed to the nines, miraculously young and fearless
intelligent, outspoken and strong and far from empty
too broken to do anything but go on
more nights will be filled with hollow, tinkling laughter
more nights will be spent lying on floors than waiting in towers
all because you forgot them all
your forgot his harsh whisper
you made up you mind and decided
“i love me”
and laughed at the sheer terror,
the insanity, the undeniable ridiculousness
at the end there is just you
this is where it ends
this is where it ends
This is where it ends
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 3:33 AM UTC
Breathe and breathe and breathe for me
I’ll breathe and breathe and breathe for you
This world
This life
The love and happiness
All in your eyes
Breathe and breathe and breathe for the best of things
Breathe and breathe just breathe for me
Read and read and read its right
Think and think keeps me up all night
The words that push and push with every sight
I’m going blind from the thought… alright.
So breathe and breathe and breathe for me
We know I sure as hell cant do it decently
I’ll breathe and breathe and breathe for you
I can’t get enough of this green
Sight all filled with blue
Open my eyes- open to you…
Just another night, no sleep in slight
Bad rhyming ****** me off
But this music is soothing
And I get so inspired thinking of life
Breathing is so hard
Holding me back
To many people around
Only two can share solitude happily
In the best of company
How the cool air rest upon my skin
Delicate and white never known what sun is
Soothing, breath is still missing
From my lungs only retrievable from love…
But that is far, now close enough for now
All there is, is hope
But hope is held in God, if you believe in him
What a lie of course you do
I see it you just need to speak it.
Maybe think about the breathing for once.
Easy to forget when its not a loved one.
Yes I did that and yes I did this.
But I did it cause I obsess just a little bit.
I don’t care just move out of the way,
Please pilot,
I’m done with the west, fly east for me.
I wanna see the stars that you can never see in New York City
I wanna be in the limits of the devils play ground
With you holding one hand
Jesus gripping the next
Who cares if I sound crazy?
Every great artist had their thing
I can admit I’m rambling
With incompatible ridiculousness
But it’s true to say,
I can’t breathe today
When I can never breathe
Can’t breathe until this life grants me with a touch
And the **** tree’s will always be
**** Iowa.
It’s only in between.
Jun 30, 2010
Jun 30, 2010 at 6:50 AM UTC
*In mouth, put-
choo-choo kazoo chomp chomp YUM!
Mmmm MMMMMMmmm.
Whosagoodbaby!?
Whosagoodbaby!?*
The infant hears,
wondering if all adults talk this way,
chuckling to himself, the ridiculousness tickling his vibrating mind
looking on at the goofy giant babbling gibberish
who seems oddly ecstatic
to feed colorful mush.
The child contemplates the intricacies of communicating
the smelly in his shorts.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
*concerning the last lines... all we can do with the Cartesian Libra is add adjectives to it, which is contrary to what the existentialists did by simply modifying a furthered abstraction of the compounds 'i think' and 'i am', via the inverted comma(s), otherwise known as dittoing, sic, prior said, or re-, true to the oddity; a king will continue to question his position / being a king by not thinking about it, hence his uninhibited delusions, hereditary, very much genetic; and hence someone who precursors his being with much concern for thinking, the inhibited delusion, self-serving - both are adjective expansions of the Cartesian Libra, just added qualities, given both are facts requiring a slab of marble to look like Rodin's kiss - or approximate, with therefore being the chisel, and so dependent the end product, indeed a slab of marble at first, but not necessarily Rodin's kiss at the end - perhaps a Notre Dame gargoyle...*
i am what i think,
that's what i came up with after
reading some of the bio sketches -
even though the truth is that
i am what i own -
thinking is the part that comes last,
if i own a bed and a roof over my head,
i end up i thinking about being
homeless - but sometimes you do find
the ones that are inclined
to be what they think, the extremes
we call them - supreme anti-materialists,
it's not satisfying to own a house
or a phone, more is required,
something tinged with transcendental
counters - they "own" a home
but rather not live in it, already the
looming fairy of heaven tells them
of an unnatural life expectancy -
some might say thinking a form of
uninhibited delusion sketches,
like i'd be a venture capitalists taking
a weekend away in Hawaii while
some ridiculousness of poverty in India
was to blame for my jet streams and
carbon footprints - they keep the
inhibited delusional in cages without
a chance to sketch - because the uninhibited
delusional have all the freedoms
that Versailles could allow - or...
uninhibited delusions of non-thought,
inherited, hereditary,
versus inhibited delusions of thought,
mutated, self-invented...
this could very well be a "magic" square
with two further variations, i.e.
uninhibited delusions of thought (psychopathy)
inhibited delusions of non-thought (coma?
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
I miss the look in your eyes,
The excitement in your smile,
And the touch of your hand,
I miss the sweet smell of your morning breath,
The way your hair sticks out in every which way, it possibly can,
And you twirling your leg hair into tiny little pine trees,
While passing the time away.
I miss your two front teeth,
And being calmed down by your voice,
I miss your billions of self-pics,
Let’s not forget you leaving your stuff everywhere,
Yeah, I can’t believe I miss it either,
And the ridiculousness of your lovely, barely noticed Canadian accent
I miss you fretting over balding,
I miss hearing about the way you love your family
And our awesome God talks, I miss listening to you pray,
Hearing you practice guitar,
I miss seeing you every freakin’ day!
I miss our weirdness,
I miss you knowing exactly what I’m trying to say,
Filling in my broken sentences,
Filling in the gaps to my half-sung songs, singing the parts I don’t know, loud and clear,
And agreeing with my odd observations, as if it was a great one,
I miss you giving me the benefit of the doubt, just being so sweet and polite, listening,
You were always good at listening,
I miss watching funny movies with you, and telling you you’re wrong, when you knew you were right all along, and then me coming back to you and telling you how right you are!
I miss being near you, and laughing with you,
I miss the way you half laugh at something silly or dumb I say
And half-rolling your eyes, the way you do, when I am ludicrous!
I miss the way you are, on your good days, on your reserved days,
On your sad days, on those awkward days, on the days I couldn’t be near you,
On every single day I ever had with you, I miss those days…
And I miss your face, and I miss your heart, and I miss you more,
Every day and every second, I am missing you, when we are apart.
…even if you never know, if you never care, if it doesn’t matter, if it never will, I still, am madly in love with you and am missing you like Jesus misses those lost souls.
I miss you, here, now, forever, and I will always love you, and be fighting to forget you, always…always, my dear.
Feb 12, 2010
Feb 12, 2010 at 8:38 PM UTC
I want to write you a poem concerning how I feel.
It has to come across as meaningful and real.
So I wrote a little bit about my gratitude for plumbing.
Praising pipes and faucets just sets my fingers strumming.
Then I thought this wasn't good and to this make amends.
So I started out on lust, counting down my favorite sins.
What am I? A charlitain? A purveyor of filth and ****
Someone who speaks of things he wants to stick up in your ****
No my dear tis not the case at least not this time around.
I'd rather set your mind to ease not run your ship aground.
So let's start by whispering something soft meant to ease.
You can use my sleeve to wipe your nose should you ever sneeze.
Wasn't that not good enough? A little gross for your taste?
Let try to redeem myself I promise I'll make haste.
She approaches draped in honey surrounded by an amber glow.
Knowing things I can assure, you may not want to know.
Like the sun was to Icarus it is her smile that melts my heart.
Without her works to inspire I wouldn't know where to start.
So it's her you have to blame if it's this line you do not like.
I gotta warn ya, if she likes, I'll put your head upon a spike.
Lips like fire smoldering under eyes an emerald green.
Yes I know I got it wrong Todd my eyes aren't so keen.
I'd like to say in closing a great many things.
To spout a song so beautiful like the first few days of spring.
But alas I'll fail you and end this ridiculousness.
By saying I adore you and I need to take a ****
So tis here I leave you but never for much too long.
I'll cross your mind again one day when you hear my favorite song.
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
born of blood
from a thorn
of a beautiful flower
from the love
of the horned
adorned
in power
cowering
in the vicious
maliciousness
of the constituents
in the deliverance
to my ridiculousness
saw
twisted shapes
and contorting faces
heard
blurred words
displaced
in hateful slurs
of aggression
and i cannot count the cases
in my tasteless confessions
in my reluctant concessions
in my brutal perfection
of my obsessions
imposed against my will
you're supposed to feel
what they do
right?
opposed to killing
for the thrill
but it sometimes
just feels right
shanky gone unscrupulous
shivering
his shimmied
blood on the walls
stuttering stanleys
still silly stringing
calling for candy
but missed last call
and fell to the floor
as Bruno butchered the boar
in a deplorable fashion
a crime of passion
we were hungry
rubbing our tummies
for the honey
of bee hives
jive turkeys
turning to bunnys
for good times
but we were alive
while others were not
fraught with darkling majesty
sparkling at the seraded points
disjointed
in Freudian
ointments
self anointed
as god
standing over
some butchered
brod from abroad
wiping the fog
of dislodged
eye sockets
from my grog
how you get
from there to here
isn't really a fair mirror
on my intention
i meant to
suspend her
just enough
to face f--k
and with luck
strangle her
but she prayed to be ripped down
in her own way
my f--king way
stripped her
of dignity
wimpering
in little cute sounds
who am i?
but the guy
who spaced
hit her
too many times in the face
and replaced her
facelessness
with ***** toiletries
disappointingly
underwhelmed
still in search of a fairy
to take the helm
and ferry me
from this film
disparagingly
just spare me
the tragedy and grief
blaring from the TV
as i mock
their expressions
in my lessons
of humanity
before the flock
to shelter
my anxiety or not
gonna be
a real boy one day
and conform
to the
wayward ways
the way
of sheep
sleeping
soundly
in decay
blue fairy
gonna
marry me
one
day
be
real
one
day
one
day
1
d
a
y
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 4:52 PM UTC
As we spoke and I
found myself safe in your eyes
I suddenly saw
what you have given me
*His hands link with mine,
our arms create a matching line,
his patterned lightly by freckles,
and we're sitting on the
summer porch at dusk.
He loves me.*
but only because
you showed me the secret
I had kept from myself:
that my eyes can see into souls
my laugh can turn hearts
my smile can make blood race.
that my words, my thoughts, my loves
and hate, my
passion and fire and tears,
my temper and my gentleness,
my utter ridiculousness and
my absolute
poise,
my total seriousness
and surprising propensity
for laughter,
my complex flaws and nuanced perfections,
that I,
me,
everything I am and all
I will ever be
is worth something.
And could be someone's everything.
This is the secret you have pulled
from the depths of my maybe not-so-broken soul,
cupping it in the careful curve of your hands,
holding it out to me,
fragile like a newborn but growing stronger
all the time.
And I'll take it in my nervous palms
and the warmth will fill me
and I will live like new
because of this precious truth that only
you
could have extracted
from the labyrinth
of a deep and winding heart,
that only you could have known well enough
cared for deeply enough
to traverse the dark passages long enough
to find
my lonely light.
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 10:40 AM UTC
In the bloodbath of a dream
I went sleep-walking into Eden-
It was burnt to the ground
I smelled the charcoal, tasted the flames
While in a cloud was a huge forked-tongue
That got me thinking of the letter M…
I hopped around to other worlds
Perceiving the events with a cautious schoolgirl nature
I watched chemicals and stars do their ****** dance
Twirling endlessly into each other-
Creating a carnival of colorful exploding death and rebirth
I felt the ghosts in their fortresses eye up the hourglass-
Wondering when time will be broken and they’ll be set free…
There’s blood on a rainbow down by the waterfall
It stained my soul and put my thoughts to rapture and ridiculousness
How far will they go, the demons of this world,
When a measly human breaks their code,
Smashes their hologram mirror,
And realizes that everyone everywhere has always been alone
Everyone everywhere is their own god-
And everyone else, with their dark interiors,
Is there only to torture the blamed
For a mistake they can’t remember…
Lost in the remnants of a dream
I unlocked the gates to hell
And realized that life on earth is purgatory-
There must be a heaven on another astral plane,
A dimension without pain-
Of all the universes in existence, I hope that one bleeds through
Before I wake up to a world where God is dead
An angels fall like shooting stars that wish to remain unseen-
Extinction.
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 1:15 PM UTC
Some days it feels like I'm still there.
Lost in the ridiculousness we called us.
Listening to the ocean breeze crescendo over here,
I barely remember what was all the fuss.
Something about what I said or did I'm sure.
Always messing up; what I did best.
Was making me your ***** the cure?
Felt like it, say what you want to the rest.
Why did I think you were worth it?
Manipulate me more, baby, you know you want it.
Put down the glass of ice water and sit.
Exhausted with all of your childish fits.
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 2:00 AM UTC
I cannot stand to feel because my ocean heart suddenly comes to life beneath the full moon of someone to love. My blood changes, my skin changes, my life becomes a series of goosebumps and the swallowing back of the urge to cry. Alone, I am a strong wall whom very few can climb; but those who make it within my fort make me paranoid my stones are crumbling to pieces. I love to fall in love with every waking moment of someone’s existence, and to know what it is like to touch God’s face because it’s when I’m touching his. But I hate the monster it wakes within me, one scarred and scared that this one, too, will climb in only to walk away, leaving only ruins of what once stood so proud. This time, I am different; my whole fell apart, leaving me to resurrect the foundations and start all over. I have built myself back up, growing towards sunlight like a plant, my pride growing brick by brick, so sure I was leaving the beasts behind. But a higher wall, rather than making me stronger, has left me looking down at a much larger possible fall from grace. I’m so aware of my own ridiculousness that my shortness of breath feels like I’m drowning in frivolity, and when I step outside of myself and look back in, I know I am merely an old man in a bomb shelter waiting for a disaster that may never come. But it all feels so real when I am with him, that I feel stuck in this what-if nightmare fantasy when I am not. It’s been so short a time, I can hardly believe how wrapped up I am in my own thoughts, how much my fingers bled as I wrote this, how hard I had to try to remember who I was just a few days ago. I am a strong wall, but I am scared shitless.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
~a unconscious commissioned poem~
<>
La Lumière est une Dame d'honneur
advantage Frenchies,
everything sounds
better in their language,
we readily concede
we make do
with those tongues
whose fluidity
clothes & coats,
those, we are
best at
confessing in
first light this morning
was emasculated, in thickened
first fog, eerie, discomforting,
but yet, mine alone to utilize,
and make discomfiture into
a poem of coffee and cream,
stirring within, colored dreams
Lady Light finally arrives,
descending on a staircase
from heaven, radiating all
with patience, the animals
all, proclaiming in a thousand
tongues, their thanks, their
love, for everything breathing
understand best she is the source
of creation, reanimation, and a
sharing, unsparing, birth mother
to animate and inanimate, and
the death father to all we & us,
guide to our ultimate end
the waiting is most interesting,
for indeed, there is honor within,
as I compose, the sunrises to the
precise angle to bar my vision,
power to blind and enlighten,
how can this be, but it is so,
my bones warmed, suggest I
do not complain, accepting with
no exception for this is the power
source to us all, and humility is
the key to acceptance & understanding
is this poem, is this the missive,
me~my, intended, to write,
know not,
for the words leech from my skin,
in format uncolored, uncontrolled
by mine minuscule impoverished
compost of senses, morals and my
compote of cells that are products
of a thousand prior generations
morphed into a mess of me,
as of yet, purpose hidden,
undisclosed, perhaps my
reasoning is unseasoned,
my presumption of purpose,
is just a fool’s ridiculousness
Lady Light smiles kindly on my
rambunctious ilreasoning,
for I just one of billions come,
gone, and rebirthed in chains
of endless possibilities, two
words permanently paired,
conjoined, and though the
light has now risen to heights
to totally absolve my sight,
can no longer track what
is being written, accepting my
temporally blindness with grace,
even with solace, and-bid you
adieu, adieu, (bye~bye)
so musically,
until relief will
honor me with its presents…
and I can contemplate my
foolishness once more…
and the letting…
of the
*Lady’s light
of
honor illuminating
(even me)*
<>
commissioned by Pradip
7:35 am
in the sunroom where
the intersection of all light
illuminates all kinds
<>
music:
To Try for the Sun, Song by Donovan
Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In by Fifth Dimesion
Aug 5, 2024
Aug 5, 2024 at 7:52 AM UTC
she stood by me even when
most of my disasters
were of mine own creative actions,
but in the crises that always
unexpectedly
rose up dramatically
when driving off road,
where there were
no guardrail guarantees
so when the doc says
“sir, needed surgery right away,”
She unashamedly inquires
“ok, what about tomorrow”
making us all chuckle,
and doc a smile/responder,
“how about 6:00am the day after?”
and you accept (me observing)
with
a stern smile of pretending concession
so when recovery consists of
three ++ walks a day through
the corridors of the Unit
which morphed from an endless huge
to a
small prison courtyard,
where in a day everyone,
patients doctors and
rotating shifts of nurses
are greeted by me,
idiot extrovert,
with an intitial
giant hello and a wink,
which after first three
“shuffles around the block”
has become a
saluting exultation,
a look of surprise
with a
“You Again!”
that gets the inevitable
twinkle from everyone
somehow
this greeting came home with us
and thereafter when,
she stirred awake
to see me shuffling in with
coffee and a quarter cup
of crunchy Kashi & banana
(a/k/a nana & banana)
and a too loud
“You Again!”
which infallible makes
an AM grumpy disappear
and
soon becomes
a time honored
ritual
now that I’ve honored the oath
which was promised jokingly
by me to She,
that I be the last to depart,
cause doing it twice,
was an unbearable job,
and long enough gone
and I am back in my
own private recovery
honeyed (yellow) painted room,
The Enpty Pillow
with imaginary smiley face,
hears a mourning yellowing phrase,
and when the grandchildren
make
their obligatory dragged along
monthly visitation they be greeted
by old friends
a firm hug and an
emboldened
“You Again”
and their smile says
“you’re embarrassing us”
+++ childlike acceptance
and the rivulets ridiculousness
that accompany this scripting,
+ any accidental overhearing,
or get even getting a read,
is fresh brought out of
tears storage
and each teary one with
a Hey!
meant to be cheeryr
greet & repeat
😉us again!😉
Sep 29, 2024
Sep 29, 2024 at 11:52 AM UTC
I don't understand you, although I desperately want to.
when I first met you, I was completely intrigued
by your words and your voice
you gorgeous voice that has the ability to make me melt
your beautiful words, that are so raw and true they make me shudder,
(although they are laced with just the right amount of confusion and wonder)
those were the parts of you that first caught my attention
I looked at you, and you seemed to be an open book
I went over to read you but it was simply a mirage
you have this illusion of simplicity but you are so deeply complex that sometimes,
I marvel and wonder if you could ever understand yourself...
I try to see past your walls, to what drives you
and sure, you've given me a glimpse once or twice
but it only made me urge to see more
Now- this is the part I don't know if you'll appreciate
See, I zoomed in on you so hard and concentrated on you so intensely,
trying to get you and capture your aura
that the rest of the world began to look a little...inadequate
and I think that you puzzled me to the point that
I started falling for you.
In fact I fell so hard that I went a little crazy
I must have hit my head
I was crazy to live like you, and be with you
Maybe it was that little hue of ridiculousness that allowed me to see you more clearly
and oh WOW
I realize now that the more I think about you, the less I will ever understand
I know that you are such an intricate and vast soul that it could never be described
much less expressed verbally or stuffed into your body
You are truly the most stunning and flawed human being I have ever had the privilege of witnessing
I really think I love you now
and I just thought that you should know
So that you could understand a little bit of me.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 11:01 AM UTC
I walk with ghosts. They haunt me every day, and every day I remember.
I remember that time when we were going to head home. It was raining--pouring--and for the first thirty seconds after our realization of that fact we were unhappy, afraid of being wet and cold. Afraid of the shadows outside, and the rivers running tracks down the hill. We were uncomfortable. We wondered if we should wait it out--let the clouds cry until they fell asleep. Spend our lives under those fluorescent lights watching raindrops chase each other down grimy windows, our breath fogging the glass below our noses.
But then, something hit us. There was the act of waiting, staring down droplets like each and every one of them was a curse against us. . . or there was the act of forgetting. Letting go. Being free. A little bit of cold and wet was no match for us, whatever we were.
I remember the sweet sound of the heavy doors slamming behind us, and the feel of those first few raindrops hitting my eyelashes, my nose, my arms (which I had freed from my jacket so I could soak up every ounce of the shower). I remember we ran through the streets, yelling out the excitement that had materialized magically within us, laughing at the echoes bouncing off the quiet houses, at the strands of hair glued to each other's faces, at the sheer ridiculousness of our lives.
I remember throwing my bag onto the ground and breathing in chilly air. I remember watching the little splashes interrupting the calm surface of every puddle, and then throwing myself into one without a second thought, feeling the water flow over every part of me, and laughing as I stared up into the sky at the droplets falling into my face.
{I wondered what it would be like to touch the surface of a falling raindrop. To freeze it in midair and have the satisfaction of holding it my hand, as if it were a diamond}
Soon they were laying beside me, our arms creating warm connections, and we were laughing and silent and laughing again, sharing the power of everything around us.
We made rain angels in the road, and I smile every time I think about it.
And then, the hurt hits me, like I'm back outside that day, only each tiny raindrop has transformed into a shard of those stupid grimy windows. I watch as they plunge into my skin, and I'm horrified because no one is there to tell me that my tears can't mix in with the rain that isn't falling.
Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 8:56 PM UTC
I don't care to see
The moral stances
From overly sensitive types
With their soft hands
And wisdom-less insight
I don't care to associate
With low impulse cut throats
Who only think of themselves
And shelve their selfish hope
With their greed
I don't do anything
That has me
Relying on a single thing
So i can flee
On the drop of a team
To my door
I'm always going to be
Solo
Leaning on the beam
Of a door
Listening
To whats in store for me
And I don't need to breathe
The ashes of fascists
To know they passed us
For the masses
To caste us
Into flames
As they walk away
And i don't want or need
Anything
Nor anybody
After grumbling it all through
As the truths
Will have me
Setting somebody free
In the violent liberties
Of my profanity
I'm nothing fancy
Just a little bit antsy
And an *******
Frantically feeding his dreams
From the ditches and drains
Of a technological stain
On the land
I pray every morning
With closed eyes
And clasped hands
Without a single god in the sky
But if i can convince
Myself of the lie
Just to get me by
I will be alright
And the guilt wont rewrite
Until tonight
Where i will write it out
Under a single light
From a dreary house
I'm all about
Letting the dogs out to play
And when I'm all out of thirst
I let out the slurs
Of a babbling idiot
Bantering with the fidget
Of ridiculousness
Under the fractal prisms
In which I'm imprisoned
Wishing
I would shut my mouth
Change the channel
Or just close you out
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
"Have you ever been in love?" I asked her.
She smiled wearily and looked into the distance. "Yes," she replied, and it broke my heart because I felt the pain she was hiding. I saw it in her sad eyes and in the circles around them. I heard it in her firm voice . I felt it. And it was a pain so great, like the whole world caved in on her. I felt that pain **** the air out of her.
She looked at me and drew a deep breath. "I still am."
"Where is he now?" I asked her.
"Probably in his office, preparing a blueprint for a building."
"Is he married?"
"Not yet , but he will be."
She cleared her throat. The wind blew and her hair brushed against her face. Her hair was dark with a few streaks of gray. She looked younger then, with that serene look on her face. I could see her again as an eighteen-year-old. She was still small, but she had a certain kind of fierceness. She was altogether fragile, like thin glass. She was broken, but she did not cry.
I shifted in my seat. "So he's engaged?"
"Yes."
"Do you know the girl?"
A hint of a smile showed, but I knew it wasn't of amusement. Even in her smile, I saw the sorrow. "She was my bestfriend," she replied and it was the first time I heard her voice quaver. A tear rolled down her cheek. She laughed miserably. She laughed at the ridiculousness of her situation. She laughed at herself for being so stupid, so pathetic. So hopeless.
She didn't love like others did. She didn't love so fleetingly, so conditionally. She was forgiving, and gave second chances as if they grew on trees. She loved with her whole heart. She didn't love with the physical kind of love. She loved with her soul, and she loved another soul. One soul. One man, and that was it. And she knew that even in the end, when she lies cold in her grave, she will never stop loving.
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 9:41 PM UTC
Ach, my amygdala
agglomerates ridiculousness,
a ****** laden froth
of other possibilities and lives
and loves, loves
and mitigated losses
to address the hurt
Jun 12, 2021
Jun 12, 2021 at 8:38 AM UTC
i am spiteful. and angry. and bitter. **** you! **** god! **** your mom. you ruin hope without remorse. throw the litter to the gutter and set fire to my dreams. i am in a state of drunken rage and you are laughing. laughing at my ridiculous behavior. not mournful, not empathetic, but cold and merciless. your indifference cuts me like a porcelain shard, a dagger without form, you cut away my pillars and now i am falling to the ground, waiting for the day when i finally hit that blissful rocky bottom so maybe i can have some peace at last. you son of a daughter, you daughter of a coward, you messed up piece of this of this messed up world that tricked me into believing that there was good in this godforsaken, ***** horrible, liar infested, beautifully disgusting place where i waist my time thinking about you and knowing there's no thoughts being returned.
why? why? WHY?
i'm sick of my dreams. i'm sick of your presence. i'm sick of this earth. and my flesh and my tears and your face in my mind and my memories of the happy times. cutters, the truck, my bed, gasworks, the whole ******* city.
what did you do with the letter i gave back? did you throw away? why would you share my music with strangers? you think it was funny? did you laugh at my ridiculousness, i bet myself our friendship you won't even say happy birthday. whatever.
i'm drunk. your probably drunk. the whole ******* world is drunk. drunk on the pain of loss. and fear of being nothing. and ironically enough, the truth is we are all gods. and most of the time, we're gods of destruction and chaos and pain and sorrow.
have fun with that bigger future. i hope it implodes on you like mine did.
i'm messed up too. more than i ever let you know. i lost my first love and my best friend, my brother, abandoned me through a ******* email while was on vacation the first time around also. your timing was like something only a god of sorrow would design. beatings, mental abuse, oh what a lovely world we live in.
quick and painless right? just like a band-aid. good job. you're a ******* ninja. no one saw it coming, especially not me.
i'm starting to not be able to see straight so i'm gonna quit writing in this useless blog that no one reads or cares about and go back to my tv because it slowly kills through mind numbing boredom and that suits me just fine.
good night, i love... the rain.
Jul 17, 2010
Jul 17, 2010 at 11:40 PM UTC
So there’s this English Patient
cave set up
Cold, quiet and dying
Alone
and a sense of properly sad sadness
A deep and thorough sadness
not just dropped my ice-cream sadness
But dying alone and cold sadness
Could bring you to tears thinking about it
I expect
That kind of sadness
So the candle is flickering out
And no-one is coming for you
You realised that hours ago but never stopped hoping
And the end of your life is there – shadowing against the cave wall
Flickering in and out of view
Ethereal and unreal
And you laugh a little at the ridiculousness
Of your plight
And you trace your own fingers around your face
Your thirst is irrelevant
And you start thinking about what you have been
Where you have loved
And who
Pictures begin to come to mind of beauty and ecstasy
And then you fall into satisfied eternity
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 6:23 AM UTC