"sluggishness" poems
How beautiful is the life
With all its vibrant colours
The colours which define its creativity
Life is colour,colour is life
Shades of translucent rainbow
Casting his grace on embellished life
The allured tints of the moring sun
Captivating the vivacity in people's life
How abhorent the nature be
Enchained,restricted without the colours
Blemishing the ornamentation garnished from heaven
But suddenly the grandness breathed for its life
As colours started to play an illusive vibe
Awakening the sluggishness in one's life
Unfolding the colours honesty with ecstasy.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 5:07 AM UTC
When the walls started closing in
and my brain turned to syrup
I slid down into a stupor
My mother makes me strawberry/mango Italian soda
the sluggishness liquefies
my brain becomes active
the bubbles floating my thoughts to the top.
When my vision is narrowed
and the fire is lit within
burning the inside's out
pass me some of that pop
and its the little things that matter
Observant servant to the soul
Not even owning your own body
glitch glitch glitch
all over my face
can't say a word without a fight
stuck in my head, can't get out
Maybe if I keep talking the words
will sometimes maybe came come from my mouth
My thoughts suffocating me
My head aches
Please please no more
I want to step out
looking outside the bagel shop
calmed my mind
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
my motor
isn't running too good
these days
there is something
not quite right
with my spark plugs
they don't seem to fire
as they once did
there is a definite sluggishness
in the motor head
reaching top gear
is a thing of the past
vroom vroom vroom
vroom vroom vroom
where has my engine power
gone to
vroom vroom vroom
vroom vroom vroom
how I'd like to
have a new motor installed
a Lamborghini
engine
would give me
some velocity and vim
but I'm saddled
with an old 4 cylinder Hillman
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 7:32 PM UTC
Bones shackled, breast plate pierced, enemy to the new governance - SCREAMING dark hearted chants that linger in memory like death and love.
Come and be one: we are looking for your[self] substance. Is that the facade you've chosen? Only for now my friend.
Come and be clear: bring us your mistakes - especially those that you continue to make. Those that make you question your worth and capacity for love. Bring your folly, your hatred, your discontent, your ennui, your sluggishness, your truth.
I want to be around those who accept my naked soul. Stripped of the costume that makes me socially adequate or tolerable. Can you be Who you truly are. I know you crave this. Embrace your anxiety and bring it with you...
All that you are is welcome here.
Look at me, my naked soul wears no pockets for a secret to survive.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 9:36 AM UTC
age is catching up
with me that's for sure
as it takes me hours
to sweep the floor
ten years ago
I was nimble of foot
but of late my speediness
has gone caput
the old legs just
can't keep pace
and they wouldn't
be in the hunt
to win a sprint race
these days I have more
in common with a snail
inching very slowly
along the trail
zip and zeal
are no longer
in my vocabulary
sluggishness
is now the core word
in my dictionary
as the days pass
there is less vim and vitality
within me
and in the near future
my motor will become
completely stationary
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 5:11 PM UTC
there's so much in me that's ashamed.
a sudden shove to realization, truths uncovered, memories turned poison.
the ugliness of sin so unbearable you try to run, to find it being your feet.
the want. the need. the blurry lines.
the lack of skill. the craving for meaning.
the obligations and the sluggishness.
waking and sleeping and waking and sleeping.
trapped beneath.
someone, anyone, God, love, get me out!
shouting, realizing Time and whatever good lives in you is all you have to carry you.
a storm grasped in a fist but I'm not that strong.
I'm no poet, but I carry words in me like extra organs,
and right now I'm so sad I just want to document such poignancy.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 3:49 PM UTC
I am so tired.
Weariness
aches in every *****
weighs on every limb,
drags at every thought.
My face is haggard, drawn and gray.
My eyes are burning coals
sunk deep into the dark pits of their sockets.
My muscles clench in terror,
as I panic at sudden noises
and unexpected physical contact
but they burn with exhaustion
and I beg them to stop
before they tear themselves apart
and me with them.
My movements alternate
between sluggishness and flailing desperation.
My mind races with paranoia,
strains to differentiate perceptions from its own creations,
abandons both reason and reality.
But still I do not sleep,
for the fear that preys upon me constantly in my waking hours
runs rampant in the night,
And in my slumber
I cannot clench my muscles to fight,
I cannot run,
I cannot even attempt to differentiate nightmare from reality.
Thus I flee my own consciousness,
running from sagacity
while still dragging my reason behind me.
It stretches,
tighter and tighter,
until it snaps,
And I go mad
once again.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
Pass me the raindrops you've caught on your tongue,
I don't want the placidity of the lakeside water
I don't want the sluggishness of the drifting snowflakes
I don't want the steadyness of the flowing river;
Give me the ones that didn't hit the sidewalk
Give me the ones that the blades of grass didn't drink
Give me the ones that didn't roll off the rooftop,
Pass me the raindrops you've caught on your tongue.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
A minimal interaction merely coincidental took her to the sentimental, yet quiet lightly, semi-permanent fire, the affection for the imperishable. A minimal corporal translation, a dance towards a portal, a fervor to pair and properly resurrect.
The compost has been added, the fecundation has begun, the methodical development goes against the unfolding and beyond. The maturing is inconceivable, an initiation determined to dilate, jag and stain. A gamma of sentiments, a commotion with skills to afflict, an opening with a phantasmagoric impatient and tone deaf.
A parallel black hole, a wooly, scruffy, disheveled globe. With absentia of her specific use she'll roam. A drowsy critter, greater for its sluggishness and loneliness, unquiet for the incubation, the heat and the certainty of your motherly protection.
Medically oppressed to the obligation of live on, welcomed by a sublime lukewarm. A unique lullaby from the impecable chanter and so on.
That's how you nourish and exalt the delicacy, the consciousness slightly expands to the magnificence. This universe with billions of new galaxies, it expands with minor steps of your new innocence.
This apprentice with exceptional obtuseness, her leader replete with sageness and discreetness. The trail scatters its roots towards the rude plot. The captain aims with firmness to a rational outlet.
An enduring labyrinth you must traverse, a map with invisible lines and a myopic with no sanity nor quandary to march. Her compass does not fatigue with the disdain of the repugnant, unawared, insolent vagrant with no prosperity.
The pink portrait lays in an imaginary castle once dreamed by a dragon. This enclosed a precious legend, her bravery prevails and the growth of a rotten embryo, this **** with no significant phases, with dull patience. An ancient savant donkey, engendered with tender.
That tenderness was not her only role, her exuberant potencial to vastness and to the raw venture she accustomed herself. To the darkest and unimaginable brutes she dared to conquer, a non-existent God, she dedicated to redeem and master.
Her royalty and infinitude, this benevolence administrated my chemical sensitivity, always in me will entail. A kingdom without entrance to those venturesome to tumble. The iconicity of the most notorious infinity and empress, in the pink portrait will forever rest.
Jan 5, 2020
Jan 5, 2020 at 11:23 PM UTC
High school contains
The beauty of growth
Curiosity
Develops your personality
The fact of humor
You discover within your companions
Taught that your motivation is:
Passion or sluggishness
To the harmony and hatred of high school
Determining your future
Aug 4, 2019
Aug 4, 2019 at 10:30 PM UTC