"spazzy" poems - Hello Poetry

I am not overwhelmed; I am not underwhelmed. I just lack motivation. I am not lazy, nor apathetic, I simply lack motivation. I want to run a mile but I have the willpower of a corpse, Wanting to just fall apart and decay so I can fertilize the flowers So maybe then I’ll be useful. Wanna go for a run? Take a pill. Wanna be normal? Take a pill. Wanna forget your depression for a while? Take a pill. Take a pill. Take a pill. I want to go to parties, Make friends, Write words that flow seamlessly across the page With clear intent of my feelings at 3 am, When I am supposed to be at my most creative. Instead, I stay at home on Netflix and the only thing flowing Is one episode to the next. Wanna go out without anxiety? Take a pill. Wanna not act all spazzy in front of everyone you speak to? Take a pill. Wanna forget your anxiety for a while? Take a pill. Take a pill. Take a ******* pill. But you want to be a productive member of society? You can’t just take a pill. Pills help you get up and make you go on with your life. They don’t give you motivation. Nothing can give you motivation. Hope usually does, but I’m all out of that. I know if I wasn’t, I could do or be whatever I wanted. I could be a successful businesswoman, I could be known for other things, Like my ability to stand on a stage and perform. I could even be a writer and properly end this poem. But I simply lack the motivation.

0

Aug 26, 2014

Aug 26, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC

rachel-anne-lastres

Take A Pill

I am not overwhelmed; I am not underwhelmed. I just lack motivation. I am not lazy, nor apathetic, I simply lack motivation. I want to run a mile but I have the willpower of a corpse, Wanting to just fall apart and decay so I can fertilize the flowers So maybe then I’ll be useful. Wanna go for a run? Take a pill. Wanna be normal? Take a pill. Wanna forget your depression for a while? Take a pill. Take a pill. Take a pill. I want to go to parties, Make friends, Write words that flow seamlessly across the page With clear intent of my feelings at 3 am, When I am supposed to be at my most creative. Instead, I stay at home on Netflix and the only thing flowing Is one episode to the next. Wanna go out without anxiety? Take a pill. Wanna not act all spazzy in front of everyone you speak to? Take a pill. Wanna forget your anxiety for a while? Take a pill. Take a pill. Take a ******* pill. But you want to be a productive member of society? You can’t just take a pill. Pills help you get up and make you go on with your life. They don’t give you motivation. Nothing can give you motivation. Hope usually does, but I’m all out of that. I know if I wasn’t, I could do or be whatever I wanted. I could be a successful businesswoman, I could be known for other things, Like my ability to stand on a stage and perform. I could even be a writer and properly end this poem. But I simply lack the motivation.

42

Today, I found beauty in hairy arms and a receding hairline. My substitute for my English Literature class was a man. His name is Danny. He's short and a little fidgety, gesticulating with every word he speaks. His voice is moderately deep, strong and clear. He's attentive, though his fidgetiness makes him seem a bit scatter brained. His white t-shirt with a few buttons on the top and brown pants were rather plain. Rather, his attire was practical. Alongside his 5 o'clock shadow and glasses, he's average. He's your average middle-aged man, subbing an American Literature class. But he isn't average. He's passionate. He knows what he's talking about. He's descriptive, knowledgeable, well-rounded. He's excited to examine and read and understand literature. He's genuinely excited to unearth the underlying meanings of our most recent readings. You can tell in his spazzy hand movements when he gets excited, or when he pushes his hair back and readjusts his glasses when he's in the middle of a thought. You can see it in his thoroughness of his explanations. He's engaging- he talks to and with us, not at us. He loves his job, he loves his work, and it's very apparent. So Danny is beautiful. I think he is beautiful because of his passion. It caught my attention and it has me hooked. For this first time this semester, I want to go to this class because I know he'll be there, eager to explain the reading and ask us what we think about it too. People, I beg of you to be like Danny- find what you love, immerse yourself into it. Your passion for your work will flow out of you and captivate you to your core. When you're that invested, it becomes infectious. Others will be captivated and immersed as well, even if it is more so in you than it is in your passion. Passionate people are alluring and captivating. I think that's beautiful, more so than other things a person could be. It's beautiful to be so passionate about something that you exude and live it, almost as if your passion were the air you breathe.

0

Nov 6, 2013

Nov 6, 2013 at 6:26 PM UTC

Mgpe

Danny

Today, I found beauty in hairy arms and a receding hairline. My substitute for my English Literature class was a man. His name is Danny. He's short and a little fidgety, gesticulating with every word he speaks. His voice is moderately deep, strong and clear. He's attentive, though his fidgetiness makes him seem a bit scatter brained. His white t-shirt with a few buttons on the top and brown pants were rather plain. Rather, his attire was practical. Alongside his 5 o'clock shadow and glasses, he's average. He's your average middle-aged man, subbing an American Literature class. But he isn't average. He's passionate. He knows what he's talking about. He's descriptive, knowledgeable, well-rounded. He's excited to examine and read and understand literature. He's genuinely excited to unearth the underlying meanings of our most recent readings. You can tell in his spazzy hand movements when he gets excited, or when he pushes his hair back and readjusts his glasses when he's in the middle of a thought. You can see it in his thoroughness of his explanations. He's engaging- he talks to and with us, not at us. He loves his job, he loves his work, and it's very apparent. So Danny is beautiful. I think he is beautiful because of his passion. It caught my attention and it has me hooked. For this first time this semester, I want to go to this class because I know he'll be there, eager to explain the reading and ask us what we think about it too. People, I beg of you to be like Danny- find what you love, immerse yourself into it. Your passion for your work will flow out of you and captivate you to your core. When you're that invested, it becomes infectious. Others will be captivated and immersed as well, even if it is more so in you than it is in your passion. Passionate people are alluring and captivating. I think that's beautiful, more so than other things a person could be. It's beautiful to be so passionate about something that you exude and live it, almost as if your passion were the air you breathe.

5

Too much coffee or a bundle of nerves gone bad either way inside the confines of my lower intestine i hide the makings of interstellar war. nebulous hyperions hypothesize the comings of a gratuitus turbulant gravitational trebulation. The trumpets will sing im sure as i scream towards a silent night I am but a silent sight. Wait. I think im just nervous. Get this, its worse and, im trying but its.. Ya never know where friends stand aint done much for them been a long time since I found a new storm to set up in. lightning rods making neurons here we are, i am a social ***** The bubbling bravado of new hopes to swaddle are dopped and crushed. the fontenal of my chitinus exterior is pressed and my fear is here to be pulled out and dangled in my face it feels shameful. Words pass the throat and are shreded by smoke stained teeth and i think if i fumble enough my bumbling lips may stitch the sentence back up and i might just make sense. My hands are shaking again My heart is racing and then My mind races and bends Anxiety is the buzzing bashful brother of exitment and bravado Lashes out in spazzy gestures And sends my head space on a trip to burning pastures Bragadosious i am not Bed ridden sad sappy ****** Pent up and Woah My thoughts derail again Where the hell are my friends They didnt go anywhere Its all in my head Twitchy turbulance tackling full force into tubluar pathways my blood Is Screaming

0

Mar 23, 2017

Mar 23, 2017 at 4:53 AM UTC

Rather-timbuilt

Nervous Blow o u t

Too much coffee or a bundle of nerves gone bad either way inside the confines of my lower intestine i hide the makings of interstellar war. nebulous hyperions hypothesize the comings of a gratuitus turbulant gravitational trebulation. The trumpets will sing im sure as i scream towards a silent night I am but a silent sight. Wait. I think im just nervous. Get this, its worse and, im trying but its.. Ya never know where friends stand aint done much for them been a long time since I found a new storm to set up in. lightning rods making neurons here we are, i am a social ***** The bubbling bravado of new hopes to swaddle are dopped and crushed. the fontenal of my chitinus exterior is pressed and my fear is here to be pulled out and dangled in my face it feels shameful. Words pass the throat and are shreded by smoke stained teeth and i think if i fumble enough my bumbling lips may stitch the sentence back up and i might just make sense. My hands are shaking again My heart is racing and then My mind races and bends Anxiety is the buzzing bashful brother of exitment and bravado Lashes out in spazzy gestures And sends my head space on a trip to burning pastures Bragadosious i am not Bed ridden sad sappy ****** Pent up and Woah My thoughts derail again Where the hell are my friends They didnt go anywhere Its all in my head Twitchy turbulance tackling full force into tubluar pathways my blood Is Screaming

23

My hands are shaking again My heart is racing and then My mind races and bends Anxiety is the buzzing bashful brother of exitment and bravado Lashes out in spazzy gestures And sends my head space on a trip to burning pastures Bragadosious i am not Bed ridden sad sappy ****** Pent up and Woah My thoughts derail again Where the hell are my friends They didnt go anywhere Its all in my head Twitchy turbulance tackling full force into tubluar pathways my blood Is Screaming

0

Nov 4, 2016

Nov 4, 2016 at 11:25 AM UTC

Rather-timbuilt

WoAh

My hands are shaking again My heart is racing and then My mind races and bends Anxiety is the buzzing bashful brother of exitment and bravado Lashes out in spazzy gestures And sends my head space on a trip to burning pastures Bragadosious i am not Bed ridden sad sappy ****** Pent up and Woah My thoughts derail again Where the hell are my friends They didnt go anywhere Its all in my head Twitchy turbulance tackling full force into tubluar pathways my blood Is Screaming

17