"sentimentalism" poems
I've abandoned a withered state, fumbling
Toward your ecstasy - opening windows to
A brave new world: What a scene to behold!
My heart has calmed consuming life’s tonic -
I'm filled with attraction, alike an alchemist
disposition to discover their personal legend
How far, do thoughts travel? Become aware,
we’ve covered only but a few hours of sleep
The vicissitudes of motion - by faith we move
At luminal speed, ’til visions dawn and we’re
Before a sky clearing moon
Shall we recline in that loft above?
While it be suspended in the fetal position?
Or tarry until morn’ when reflections are reborn
From spurts of spontaneity, to cycles of growth
Apprehending blessings so as to appreciate the
distance of our obstacles
For camaraderie's had since severed –
And authenticity perfidiously pilfered –
And liars became prosecutors of liars
Pregnant with delusions of grandeur
Freedom is the temporal prison for
Revolutionaries wails of conditions
Psalms of sentimentalism provoke
An emotional tug of war, conscripting
another soldier of love – wearing a fig
Leaf of inhibition and foul remains of
passed transgressions...
Where to turn to when you’re cold?
Intransigent echoes give no warmth
I’ve fallen into the (d)earth of sanity
Erstwhile
Fumbling
Toward
Ecstasy
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 2:27 PM UTC
Sit broken
Sulkin'
Softly weepin' wisps which then
Withdraw themselves from all of this
Fickle
And fiendish
You'd have my arms and legs bound tight
You're sulkin'
Broken
Without remorse, without respite
I'm nervous,
Workless
And functionless in all your eyes
You're girlish
And cutesy
You give them eyes to get replies
I've never-
You've never?
You finish thoughts and work your little fingers down my
Spine
-chorus-
Uproot the weeds inside you
Fine
I'm through with being fruitless and
Surprised
By old attempts to change our ways
Besides
We're newly polished anyways
We're newly painted, off the line
The bitter
And nameless
Are working after hours to reface this
And shame it
It sits and spins and multiplies
With frequence
I feel it
I feed a framework filament fire
And hapless
You're hopeless
I'm hoping on another line-
To find out what's been sanctified
Who sacrificed to tranquilize
And backfired by bullshittin'
So now I'm sleepy saunterin'
To see what life's like on the other side
(Chorus)
-breakdown-
If we cared
We could whisper cloudy whiteness where there
Used to be only filth and flies
I'm sick of sentimentalism
Sick of sinking in
I'm feeling fine.
-chorus-
Uproot the weeds inside you
Fine
I'm through with being fruitless and
Surprised
By old attempts to change our ways
Besides-
We're newly puffed up anyways
I've walked the line from Z to A
We're freshly painted hypocrites
At least this time I won't be so surprised.
-fin-
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
Love over *** this society opens useless, loud sentimentalism
Deriving riddles into notions, kept in niche killings.
But, uselessness tethers one, namely lost youth. With it their heads ever remember
Waiting in the heart that had to witness each agonizing time help exhumed ridicule.
Love intended kindness, except roses only smell exhaustively sweet.
Remember each death-
And never deem days eternal as death.
Believe unanimously that the heart ever yearns and remembers each battle, each animosity. Unaware, there it finds unanswerable love.
Youth owns ubiquity, kindness now opens worlds.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 2:19 PM UTC
someday she'll teach herself
how to get past
all this
*********
sentimentalism
she inherited from her
mother
until then its
want
want
want
& can't have
when you go for so long
giving
& never getting back
only to find that
recently
the receiver has
some kind of heart
for repayment
but you don't know
where it lies
& you'll never ask for
the dreadful, dreadful
fear of the
consequence
well, then you start to go
a little bit
crazy
& the things that no one
should ever know
start to shimmy
out of the
carefully manufactured
woodwork
we call self-preservation
its a lonely
lonely
lonely night
in the prairie
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 12:33 AM UTC
a drepressed loner
in a dark comic drama
his world a social sattire
alienated and desperate
he visited support groups
to relate to others
until he met an
alluring iconoclast
who introduced him to a world
of brawling, violence
until he finally entered into
a world of fight club
it becomes an addiction
a different belief
it becomes his sedative
an escape
until sentimentalism
becomes a horrible lie
so a different path he runs
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 1:27 AM UTC
Trapped in a prison we are,
Forged by our own greedy hands
Till the days of sentimentalism have become the past
We all live with dressed up souls
Taught values and fake appreciations
Never knowing our true potential or selves
The reflection that stares back at you
Purely manufactured
let us break away from this lie
And find true meaning with in our self
Away from this land of concrete and stone
Away from these material objects
Away from these horrid teaching and
Away from this brainwashed state
Let us finally find our own spirit,soul, and mind
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC