"schadenfreude" poems
Kindly tell the sun to look away
I don’t want to see my curtain sway
Indeed, because these fabricated joys
Are demolished by an obscure ray
Serve me breakfast while the day
Lies as cold as the dew I’ll drink
Now what to do is just obey
Before we are rued by fire’s blink
Put my hot tea beside the lake
Serve it dead and withered
The day is boiling and we’ll be late
For we are but a paper scrapped
The fireplace shall be planted
With torn thorns of brown and black
No rays of red will favor me
As long as the sun scorns at us
Wipe my mouth with torn fabric
It pains me so to be stained in red
That I long ago forsaken but now
Dripping down my crooked neck
For the ghost of you who preyed
On my solitary beat of ill and ****
For your revenant who feasted
On my will and half-eaten heart
For the glooms of your fairy
Schadenfreude upon my sorry
For the life I did not live
To the joy I took from you
Raise the cup and shatter it
Open the curtain and drain our life of lies
To the eye of the day and God’s pity
Serve my breakfast before I live
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC
Confide in me
the irony
of laughter as a crutch to keep
with self descriptive Bildungsroman
in view of Schadenfreude's Ad hominem
Mask the image, compensate, compensate
Power struggle, shift division, relegate, relegate
Egocentric discharges inhabited by identity crisis
Circumstantial Deus ex machina, plastered on by streams of vices
No wreck, no head on, but a path beset by tolls and diversions
Somehow I must find a way to make these scattered routes converge
Dead and othered language roams the fields of pomposity
More ironic self aggrandizement, an appropriation of ferocity
Paint them a picture in the mind's eye of your blurred forward vision
I want to see the target marked, but attention is a competition
I'm Viable, I'm Jovial, I have the means to take these chances
I'm lying now, it's one or the other, let's hope I make the right advances
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
we are windows with lapsed insurance but see fine print where there is none
and that makes us innocent pillagers. the village learns to ween the system
from an iron fist to adopt an irony. but i digress, where the last appearance
gypsied the locals with petulant integers. the riven burn ! to clean the wisdom
of our schadenfreude. the image turns to ravine
the slender
isthmus.
but
pry it
from the
vapor
you can
knot.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 3:27 PM UTC
How they wield horrible envy,
Crawling its way onto my veins,
Grab my neck by means envious.
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 12:17 PM UTC
Often the news gives me the blues
I really ought to choose
to simply refuse
I mean really, what will I lose
Schadenfreude?
no that isn't it
truth is stranger than fiction
more like a fascination with the surreal
or a blinded self-affliction with the scroungy real deal
Talking heads that speak for work
punctuate sentences with erratic head jerks
nobody normal talks that way, they ask rhetorical questions
when the answer's are known, they’re killing time
“rephrase the question, run the clock out
a commercial will spare us the embarrassment of doubt.”
Take’s a special person to face each new day
with zillions of prying eyes hanging on every word you say
the mendicant voyeurs of utter destruction’s charming new day
the slashing machete melt down of the abject speakers foray
"Oh say, can you see by the dawns early light"
What's become of your people and their obsession with fright
desensitization is paramount to achieve an abeyance of light
Frankenfoods, and "side affects" hideous monsters in the making
high resolution mayhem require victims for the taking
awaking half-dead like Dracula’s each dusk
they'll find a cure, there's another vaccine, there’s always dumb luck
maybe you won't be the sucker that makes that dreadful scene
bludgeon your mind with a another faker, a different fresh news team
fobbing your leery eyes you ponder “they can’t possibly all be the same!”
different day, different month, different year, same game
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 1:03 PM UTC
Details are always painful
Whether they are justifications
from a cheated partner or the
long monotonous description of a
curriculum's historical event.
Details always hurts
Whether these are the innumerable
unfulfilled promises of a minister or the
revealed reality of a schadenfreude
in disguise of your friend.
Details are always excruciating
Whether these are the tormenting
statements of a **** victim or the
soul piercing words of the people
living in blighted areas on social media.
Details always left you sombre
Whether they are the elucidation of your
acquaintance's tragic demise or the
rendition of a symbolic line in
Shakespeare's play.
Details always give you cold shivers
Whether it is listening to a horror
story in a solitary hostel room or the
sour scolding of your parents
for ******** up your exams.
The predicament is that
Details mostly give us a food
for thought but ultimately we all
end up grieving on things and doing
nothing about them.
Next time you encounter any DETAIL
that left you with even a bit of
of bad emotion,not just get grief-stricken
do something about it,so that you
don't feel bad when you confront it again.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 5:43 AM UTC
Being torn apart
Limb from limb
Knife through the heart
But it’s not a horror film
You watch it
And enjoy it
Sending chills
through my skin
You sit there and see
me suffering
With a sinister grin
I shudder within
More people must hurt
So you can give more sympathy
Perverting empathy
Because misery loves company
Haven’t you taken enough from me?
My dreams…?
…The best of me?
You didn’t reach yours goals
So you stole the ones that were left in me
Putting a dollar in the hand
Of a homeless man
So you can feel better
About your own situation
Self- Satisfaction
Public humiliation
Inside joke
Spoke with no consideration
Of the hell I’m really facing
And the thought of me failing
Keeps your heart racing
No need to lie
I can see it in your eyes
You’re hoping
Waiting
Praying
For my demise…
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 12:57 AM UTC
Todesangst notwithstanding,
fingerspitsengefuhl undermines schadenfreude.
Like, you know,
like, literally.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 4:58 AM UTC
Just like all the nepotism today,
Narcissism is wildly popular-
In fact, it's good.
You should only care for yourself,
Forget about any platonic love for others
What use can you derive from them?
Jun 17, 2024
Jun 17, 2024 at 11:16 AM UTC
Words ,
What do you make of it?
So saccharine
So chasmic
Yet
So raw
So excruciating.
That It guzzles your heart bit by bit
Words,
What do you make of it
When you see them caper
As you see your feet in rain
Or when you witness it
Spanking scorn on people’s mind
And forcing them to spend those sleepless night,
Why so confusing are them words?
Why the scent of them arouses a writer’s heart
And becomes a cause or,
An apocalypse.
What do you make of it?
When it pushes you to the apex
Or drags you down to the burning fiasco
And you think it Is fix
Words, that makes schadenfreude
Alive,
Death scary
And life so obsessing?
The base of hopes,
Wings of imagination
The eyes of love
A scent, of imagination
A magic
A poison
A tower so bright
Somewhere in horizon
Words,
So many yet so little
Things to say
But, words are them
What do you make of it?
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
That is how they live
That is how this works
For they do see the agony
In our eyes
But they revel in the feeling of
Schadenfreude
What causes one's tear
Makes the other smile
But this is how the world works
There is agony to every soul
Pain behind every smile.
That is what sustains the world
That is what makes it worth the while
It may be the devil's evil thought
But nobody ever gets caught
Cause its just a feeling, this
Schadenfreude
The place where they talk
The place that they reveal ***** secrets
Is the place that nurses this feeling
Is the place, noone should be
Seen lurking in..
For then you can't hide
Behind ur hypocrisy
Where u say u r happy for the world
But actually their pain is ur ecstacy
For now u feel exposed
It is lifted, the cloak
You wore everyday as u reveled
In the feeling called
Schadenfreude.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 6:46 AM UTC
Great hawk enshrouds tiny ring;
swallowing silence in the reflection of spring;
Your shadow bemoans my gentle home;
where wax wings and iron legs of sternness roam.
Between shattered glass and petal's dance
whose schadenfreude--makes you sound like an ***
Oh, what a ******* intellectual chore
when even poetry doesn't make sense anymore.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 7:43 PM UTC
--- She who cannot hex, cannot heal
She who cannot curse, cannot cure. ---
She's a sweet little thing
a Moonflower’s paradigm
enjoying isolation and slumber by day
waking up to start her magick pursuits around society's bedtime
Some spells & her abilities, this Völva has bound to her mane
But for her, that's a better vessel than a pendant on a chain
And remember: When she dances,
if she shakes her hair, her power is twice obtained.
So if you're hooked on schadenfreude,
Cease and desist; Please knock that **** off.
Because, at the very least,
you'll be returned with what you've caused.
But if someone's harming you
or you're being hurt, but confused
whether the root of tormenting
brews with a What or a Who
Go ahead, take a deep breath
Dolour will be overcame
your Spirit's to be momentarily reclaimed
the Völva's arrived
and her prowess resides with
cures and curses alike.
--- She who cannot hex, cannot heal
She who cannot curse, cannot cure. ---
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 12:27 PM UTC
Tears vermilion reflecting the night,
St Elmo's fire burning bright,
Sea sick sailors pray for the light
Doomed and forgotten nets are dry.
Albatross soars, wings of flight
Guiding the lost with cries of gulls,
Let us laugh at their misfortune,
Schadenfreude
Styx flows too soon,
Gold on each eyelid
The Titans shall have their due.
Hyperion weeps to Neptune's view
As Icarus burns to seas of blue
And the sails catch on,
Enlightened by the
Dawn multifaceted hue.
Scarlet prism gems
Reflect the fallen, truth
Through crimson tinted lens.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 6:59 AM UTC
You stabbed me with invented labels
a game of hearsay growing from now and then
to vent away daily coming from nowhere
going with swearing questions
you didn't wear answers to
steely eyes sharpened to sustain injuries
gaping with a thin quit-then gleam I endured
your cleaver in my gut instinct's distraction
from your quiet inner keyhole enjoying
picking arguments with any scabs
from scratch to ******
turning the skeleton lock ever tighter
urging on the surge of red
to efface
that once kissed every goodbye
all ****** traces of love
until it fell pale under the pressure
low wounds gasped “bereft”
and my open heart closed
unconditional
for critical surgery
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
I look in the mirror and see
not me
see
not me
I see
an artist with a frock on,
backing up a bit
I see
an artist with a smock on,
not me.
And they're talking 'bout the Shard!
if a ***** looking thing ever
looked so hard
it's the Shard.
I'm talking Annoyed and
thinking of beating up Freud
they're
thinking Schadenfreude,
that's why Lloyds
exists
for sinking wrecks and
sunken ships.
It's a hell of a mess
when you've got to confess
you've made a hell of a mess,
reflections of me in a dress,
(frocks is cool,
but they don't fool the mirror)
Cruising
pen in hand
Saddique in the driving seat
beat Boris hands down
to be the
new Mayor
in London town.
Out on the balcony and
the only thing to welcome me
is pigeon **** and
two white feathers
and the
weather's
nice.
Fifteen degrees and she's
in a bikini,
who let the genie out
of the lamp?
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 8:33 AM UTC
She who cannot hex, cannot heal.
She who cannot curse, cannot cure.
*She’s a sweet little thing;
a Moonflower’s paradigm
enjoying sweet isolation & silent slumber by day,
waking up to start her magick escapades
after society’s bedtime*
*Self-disciplined & at times
knavishly upping the ante
But I can guarantee you
It’s always revealed in the end
the intent she directs at you is
never anything, besides good.*
*and unannounced observers
you may catch her dancing around the kitchen at 3am,
maybe writing her Galdr spell-songs,
maybe causing mischief
with Hermes or Laverna, (as usual)
maybe testing her gifts this Völva has bound to her mane
Because for her, that’s a way better vessel than any pendant on a chain*
***And remember: When she dances,
if she shakes her hair, her power is twice obtained.***
*So if you’re hooked on schadenfreude,
Cease and desist; Please knock that **** off.
Because, at the very least,
you’ll be returned with what you’ve caused.*
*But if someone’s harming you
or you’re being hurt, but confused
whether the root of tormenting
brews with a What or a Who*
*Go ahead, take a deep breath
Dolour will be overcame
your Spirit’s to be momentarily reclaimed
the Völva’s arrived
and her prowess resides with
cures and curses alike.*
**She who cannot hex, cannot heal
She who cannot curse, cannot cure.**
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 11:42 PM UTC
I can do all but help you with your self inflicted schadenfreude mind...
..it's these days I barely muster strength and will enough to pardon myself from ill thoughts that provoke sadness...
still my thighs are chubby but have yet to fully throttle against one another
...aaahh the wavy thread of fat that gathers at the waist still evident as I try to find ways to camouflage....
another rising in my throat as I accustom myself to others self inflicting wounds...
....the phlegm and sadness finds it's way rising up to try to choke me
phlegm---like the water from the glass that trickles into the windpipe--- avoiding it's intended destination...
you know the one---the way it should help not hinder....
the way people should use kindness not splinter
Jul 22, 2012
Jul 22, 2012 at 11:41 PM UTC
I dropped my ice cream cone today.
It made me realise that I stray.
Life is boring without the glue
that mends a feeling to all new.
A kid could scream a mother crazy.
But is it better than him being lazy?
And I should practice timing more,
being one of the few that I don't bore.
The drop of a can in a machine,
or of it on your phone's screen,
depresses on a different level
those who seek the purest revel.
In silence when the movie ends,
in the joy when that glue mends.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
"No. Don't. Just stay inside."
As you say. I don't dare ask why.
"It is nice this way. And I can hear your heart."
"It sounds so loud."
(You treacherous heart)
But that wasn't the deal.
And how can I handle that?
...
What was the deal?
"This is just ***
No kisses or romance or...
"Let's just forget."
...
I tried. Wished to. But I wonder you see...
"Just leave me alone. I won't talk about that."
...you censored the things that troubled you still.
"That is hilarious. And you are sad."
And your schadenfreude is not humane.
"I don't know what that is. I also don't care."
But I knew your humanity all too well.
"Stop talking about it. And thinking too."
I have still the right to ******* care about you!
"Look. Cut it now. All my friends know."
I feel betrayed and now the end appears close.
...
"Oh, well, you know. I may have possibly found you love-able. Once."
You mean fuck-able, right? Can't mean anything else.
"Why are you talking like that? I don't like it. It is not you."
(So-over-you attitude) (Couldn't-care-less eyes) -I won't budge.
She's tearful, now, and then she smiles.
Just when I was giving in.
"This is such a funny thing!"
Almost impossible. Anger me, please!
I once couldn't stand one bit, you looking sad.
Faking is not me. You did deserve it.
"Well, night now. My boyfriend has come."
You'll have *** till dawn and boring chat. You told me so.
I walk to my room, and insanely alone,
I shatter my mind with one simple truth:
I loved you too much. You couldn't say you loved me back.
"It was just ***** back then. Didn't think that much."
And I was just a friendly mistake.
Mea culpa and it's gone.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 6:16 PM UTC
*(you have
the most beautiful laugh,
but also
the most twisted
sense of humor.)*
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
Dreams of flying, softly chasing
Round my head ever pacing
Voices lifted, if only screaming
For redemption never given
Hearts that hide behind blue eyes
Weep for wrongs, they’ll never do
In a world where black and white
Are used to hide the luminescence
Of every color ever given
To every rainbow cried by heaven
The transcendental meditations
On human kind’s every notion
To learn what makes greatness fall
And whispered secrets come alive
When lies are right instead wrong
And forever only lasts so long
When justice served, serves no purpose
Save to fuel sick schadenfreude
Can three words make a difference
Be they “I love you”
…Or “Leave me be”
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 1:11 AM UTC
Oh&This; is how we do it here
in towns like this:
Build them up
just to tear them back down to the filthy
ground
lower than where they started. Maybe this
isn’t even about how high
we built them up.
Maybe its all in the way they’ll feel it after
we’ve torn them all the way down,
the ache inside when it all takes place,
So Honey, I’ve felt it before.
I’ve seen it: I wrote it: The moment you start to
feel something real, is when you
realize that you’re doing everything wrong.
Jul 20, 2011
Jul 20, 2011 at 5:53 AM UTC
I thought I am the man with epicurean appetite,
But it seems verily wrong as I realized the life around me is lingering on me with insatiable appetite,
Consuming my life nibblingly every moment,
Time is taking away my life with it's ubiquitous presence,
Water is leaking my life with every gulp,
Every breath I drew,it is drawing me thither where I evaporate myself,
With Every foot I feet on the earth,
the land is feeding on me as a friction and motion,
Planet is ******* my energy to spin around,
Space is trying to include me from my secluded life,
Life is taking away my life with every sentient moment,
I am walking every moment towards grave,
I am neither manufacturer nor destroyer,
So let me give away this life gracefully,blissfully,rather sinking hurtlingly in the Schadenfreude, melancholy and other non-sensical amalgamations,
Do I want to add some meaning to this meaningless life...
Or let it float in the thoughtless aura,
which is a conduit to the rendezvous with the creation,
Because that is where it is lying the lilting immortality I had not seen..
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
Regarding this sin that I do not speak about
Yet is silence a granted blessing?
Silence works both ways for us
Putting faith together
And breaking noise apart
For seventeen years I lived mum
But on the eighteenth one summer drum
Rang the sound of an epiphany
And jubilation came in voice singing
Love is still love after all
Regarding this sin that throws people off
Yet why is that so?
Why is it easier to look up for divinity
Than it is to look past differences
For difference is not sin
Are you bathed in flames for being
Different from your kin?
Regarding this sin some lives have been lost
And anonymity gives ****** a helping hand
But most flawed are those who pretend
To be a sheep in a lion’s den
To don the crown of power and speak
On the behalf of their conqueror
Yet no thorns to the head they suffered
And for them it is easier
To be vile than to pass vows
Funny how difference
Can be similar in so many ways
Regarding this sin are we not all human?
And conflations have been made about this
And poetry spun with lexis that runs
The course of skeletal rivers
Lungs that breathe in purple air
Eyes that tear at the sight of hatred
Lips that just want to be loved
And skin that warms at every touch
But senses do not prevail
Against the laws that trap these sinners
And heaven knows that schadenfreude has been attained
At their expense
For we omit them almost entirely
Till the moment they are drowning
But us quiet sobbing sinners
Shall exist in different ways
Regarding this sin what more is there to be said of it if we have run the course of debate but yet nothing ever changes?
Perhaps expositions such as these to start
We must be less afraid to speak
Less afraid to show the love we choose
But then again
Did we?
Regarding this sin you have so labelled
Are you fit to give us names?
All our dog-gone days are over
We were not the first to be made
And neither
Shall we be the first to be torn down
Running gets tiresome when you
Are constantly playing a game of hide
And seeking to be found
But patience is the toughest waiting game
And
With faith beyond reasonable doubt we know
Love is still love after all
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 3:15 AM UTC