"substantial" poems
When you love someone who doesn't love you back your world ends.
When you love someone who doesn't love you back you keep pumping love. You are so oblivious and eager that you give them so much love. No matter what they won’t give it back.
When you love someone who doesn't love you back. You feel nothing but absolute pain and sorrow. You feel like there nothing left except the love that won't be taken. Your love is so strong and there’s so much that it floods you.
When you love someone who doesn't love you back. You feel hopeless because of all the love you gave this person and how much you'd do for love in return. You'd give them all the time in the world, all the love in the world. You still do this relentlessly even though they wont give you five minutes when you need that five minutes.
Being in love with someone who doesn't love you back is a burning red pain. It's a pain like nothing else because no matter what you do, no matter what medicine or treatment you give to that pain it's still there. It's there when you see his face, hear his voice, remember his touch. It's always there.
When you're in love with someone who doesn't love you back, you don't have to worry too much about them intentionally hurting you. That's because everything small memory you've over analyzed hits you across the face over and over. You're constantly hating yourself because this one person was so important to you and now he's gone. “I should've done..” “Why was I so..” “No wonder he doesn't..” Those thoughts are toxic and seizes up your body.
When you're in love with someone who doesn't love you back, you get so ******* close to hating them. You hate that they've ripped you open, eaten you up and have left you to decay. You hate that they have let you hate yourself more than you could ever hate them. You hate them because of the things they gave you which weren't all good. And the things they stole. Like crying on their shoulders which they gave, but your pride they took.
When you're in love with someone for the first time and they don't love you back, you never want to fall in love again. You never want attachments with anyone because of this substantial pain that is constantly there. You never want to kiss with love, talk with love, witness love. You never want love unless, it's that one person you love. That's the only thing that matters. Love had a horrible reputation, it's either make it or ******* break it. Not take it.
When you're hurt by someone who can't feel pain, you wish you never fell in love. Never in lust, never started talking, never meeting. You wish you could erase their smell so you wouldn't ever have to think about why you remember it so well. You wish you can't vividly remember how their arms felt and how they were once so welcoming.
When you love someone who doesn't love you back, you are pathetic. You cry in bed while replaying your first kiss, first date, the time you fell asleep together. You can remember every feeling from the first time you felt love to the first time your heart skipped a beat because, well, it was ending. You remember the goosebumps running down your back when you last touched his hand as you left his car. That was the last time you'd be in his car. And that was the last time you touched his leathery skin that was wet from your tears. And that was the last time he would know how much you loved him.
You replay every memory over and over until they're worn out. And after they're worn out you can't ever get new ones. You love this person and you will for a long, long time. But they won't ever love you. They won’t get those stomach tickles when you hear their name. They wont miss having their chapped lips against your neck tickling you elegantly. Because to them that doesn't matter, they didn’t feel love.
When you're in love with someone who doesn't love you back, it's almost impossible to stop loving them. No matter what you do. No matter what they did. No matter how it hurts. No matter what, you will love them.
When you love someone who doesn’t love you back, you are incapable of stopping because you are paralyzed.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 9:59 PM UTC
~
Precious Padma
You dearest aquatic flower
You grew in murky waters
Unblemished by its impurity
But come they did
*To ****** your petals*
And leave you a burning stem
Never can they take from you
The spirit of your plainsong
It continues to grow in your sisters
And in a time and season so near
They will sing your hymn
As one substantial voice
The changing winds will then
Lift it higher
~
Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 2:29 AM UTC
In, out
Just breathe
All I can this is
how much I want to leave.
I don't know how I'll make it
through all of today.
God, there's just no way.
In, out
Just breathe
This day is just
so very, very long
and everything I touch
seems to go so wrong.
In, out
Just breathe
I'm just trying to focus
on each individual breath
but every one is just
too substantial to handle.
In, out
I can't breathe.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
She is a wounded goddess
who loves so deeply
that she was rejected
time and time again
What could make her see
The light that she holds?
This wounded goddess,
she is a Master of the Divine
Shaping this world
and many others
When you meet her,
look deep into her eyes and
awaken her soul
Your reward will be substantial
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 9:44 AM UTC
If I am the mother to a million poems landing on def ears and
a single one grows slowly to learn your language than
I will surly transcend into a kind of euphoria
and swim in satisfaction.
If I am the mother to a thousand ideas
and none but one shall strike you
but it is so loud the ground you stand on trembles
Than I will cross the threshold of my potential
knowing I have finally listened long enough to say something undeniable.
If I whisper a hundred nothings onto notebook paper
and after a hundred years a single sentence means something substantial to a individual..
than I have done something innately good
and larger than myself; a single mother to a million poems
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 8:02 PM UTC
The name Theodore has its Greek anthropologies, Jewish anthropologies and also Germany anthropologies. The Greek anthropological perspective of The name Theodore indeed has something to do with the gods.However, the Greek way of looking at life was a frustrated thinking.To them everything was a god. They had a plethora of gods; utopia,cacotopia, Thespis, muse, clio, calypso, and Theodore was a half a god like Gabriel who impregnanted Mary on behalf of God as Joseph the cuckold carpenter patiently looked musing the ballad of a cuckold peasant . So Theodore and Gabriel were godsend.I have not delved to know what it means among the Jews, But am aware of the the cultural and anthropological surroundings of the name Theodore in Germany . It is a name of a male person signifying extra-masculine behavior. I also write poetry in Deutsch, so i know substantial cultural values of the people of Germany. Like in this case the modern social naming systems . I am aware of the anthropology of this Deutsch nomenclatural position.Why would link this name to Greeks but not Germany may due to some silent social and emotional disposition in Europe that the English speaking Europeans have a soft spot for the Greek culture.While at the same time they become victims of high adrenaline level when exposed to anything Germany. they always get repulsed when the word Germany is mentioned.So one's thesis on nomenclatural values of the name Theodore depends on which side of European consciousness one is found; is it Germany friendly consciousness or Germany threatened consciousness? The dystopic component of the name Theodore is purely cacotopic with zero element of utopia , as extra-masculinity is a swine of engendered civilization all the times.
Yours
Alexander k Opicho
NB/ i kindly invite Theodore to come to Kenya so that we do a joint research on the Swahili perspectives of the name Theodore, in Kiswahili the name Theodore is subverted to bwana tadayo
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
I'm sitting down, so why am I sweating?
A constant cycle of your reminding, and me forgetting.
I need to lie down. My mind is heavy in my skull.
Your mouth is moving, but my eardrums are full.
Petty thoughts take a substantial grip on my heart.
Can we just go again, perhaps take it from the start.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 9:16 AM UTC
Brought forth from a darkness so secure, baby boy relentless in the pursuit of education gazed upon the egg shell walls and sterile environment.
Breathing as if it were natural.
A construction of steel and concrete was the new cocoon , the window was an eye to a neoteric world. Bright white lights shone from within and a dull foreboding cloud loomed beyond the glass for the child to appreciate.
Mother exhausted collapsed sighing. She is the antidote to all that is evil, she is the mother to the world. A usually stick-thin figure now distended but leisurely relaxing.
Nursing her son as if it were natural.
Swooning nurses swaddle infants, the original factory workers. Substantial days grafting, workhorses prancing throughout aseptic halls.
The heroines of our world.
A tribe appears from dust clouds, over the dunes, panting, half-alive. Heavenly Ethiope arriving in time for the world to begin. Tumescent in her ecclesiastic luminescence bearing a King destined to travel great distances primed for expulsion from the cimmerian safety of the womb.
The seas of the earth accumulate before the small band of tall-standing creatures of exquisite anthropomorphism. Creatures from across the great unexplored continent at the centre of our world gathered in frenzied crowds. The Elephants marched in earth shattering herds, the lions of the Savannah put aside their differences and sat amongst the wild dogs of Ethiopia and the grévy's zebra, the dibatag stood and eagerly waited. Shrews, mice, gazelle, otters, cheetahs and giraffes all surrounded the tribe. Taking a silent vow and allowing stewardship to be passed along to a new generation.
Every mother is the mother of the earth. Her earth, the personal concept of earth that only she may understand.
Both children are connected by the planet they learn to walk upon. Connected by a thousand generations but connected nonetheless. They are one and the same. Each bought into a world in which they have no knowledge, each merely a slate eager to be scrawled upon by the elders of this fine rock.
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
Wage Gap exists
Don't believe me?
Than why did the US Female Soccer Team get paid $2 million and the men got paid $30 million?
Women have made some substantial improvements
I've taken notice
But we still have a lot more progress to go.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 9:13 PM UTC
I looked out the kitchen window to see the new springtime grass
But fog from your tea on the sill blocked the view.
Rain came pouring down
To expose a sunny day.
You complained your green tea
Was over steeped. It was brown.
Did you open the (cabinet
To get the sugar) from the top shelf?
I used your mug today
As a bowl to hold my soup.
You were raking outside
But there were no leaves to form a substantial collection.
The grass was frogs’ legs
And told you to jump, jump, jump.
Did you open the (shed
To get the fertilizer) from the top shelf?
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
I used to feel stress as some others do
I’d cry and pout and usually eat the stress away
Gaining 5, 10, 15 pounds in the process
But at what point does stress become too much?
Phase 1- Normal
A little stress
But less than should cause concern
Take a quick pause and breath
Till you feel fully awake and ready to handle the whole deal that is worrying you
Eating pattern: Normal
Phase 2- Intermediate
More substantial stress
Quite the mess inside the mind
Especially in an unkind situation
Eat a little more than normal for the sake of taking away the thought of the problem
Make a list and stick to it to reduce the impact
Don’t place the fist to the wall yet
Eating pattern: Calories increased by 25-40%
Phase 3- High
Stress has reached its max
Like a leach ******* the life away
Mind trying to stray from the food or the situation
But somehow falling pray to both
Like a host for a parasite
Eating pattern: Compromised. Calories increased by 60-75%
Phase 4- Immense
Stress too high to handle comfortably
Functional human abilities begin to cease
Like a paralyzing disease
Lies like not feeling well begin to find their way into play through each and every day
Not only is the issue stressful but the thought of eating becomes impossible
Now more problems creep in with the deep dive swim of an eating disorder side show
Eating pattern: Crippling loss of appetite. Calories decreased by 90%
I digress to address the source of my stress
A world I thought I knew and had nothing left to do but ride the wind with my sweetheart
But things fall apart yet the world still spins and at the end of the day the side I’m fearful of wins
And now I’m alone and scared of what’s next I just sit here with empty stomach rumbles hoping for your text
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 12:40 AM UTC
Speeding along a curved road
Eyes watching the asphalt’s twists and turns
I happen upon a substantial rock
Lying along the road on my course
It takes a few seconds for me to realize
That big brown rock isn’t what it seems
The rock has a yellow neck, legs, a head and tail
That beckon me to stop despite what lies ahead
My reasoning forces me to ponder on it’s future
Will the next car around the curve stop for this comrade
Or will it be struck and left for dead?
I put my car in park and hurry to pick it up
One lonely turtle has found itself being removed
From the path of oncoming vehicles
Taken to the grassy side of the road
Facing the opposite direction
In hopes that it will find it’s way far from
The impending danger of traffic
Now, this one turtle has a better chance
At living out it’s life at it’s own slow pace
©2014 by Regina Riddle
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 1:51 AM UTC
Most people sacrifice long term substantial gains for short term fleeting pleasures
and so they squander their inheritance which consists of blissful heavenly treasures.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 5:11 PM UTC
Storm winds from the west
Send us scurrying down the plank
Steps into the dank basement
Sounds become deafening as the
Skies darken
Whatever is happening
Is only visible through a four-paned
Window no larger than a newspaper
At age seven this is all new
Thunder, lightening, storms
Have come and gone
Usually starting in the west
Among growing and billowing clouds
This time the darkness is heavy
Winds blow straight yet swirl simultaneously
A look of fear unlike any he has seen before
Covers his mother’s face
His father, a man of few words and a placid personality
Forces new wrinkles upon his worried forehead
The hay barn slides across the yard
Walking as though each wall has legs
Slowly collapsing, it crumbles into the granary
Once it lands the storm begins to abate
They will survive
Slowly, step by step his father, then his mother
And finally he ascend to view what damage
Has occurred. One view and he knows the answer
The devastation is real and substantial
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC
Mamma read me a story
That had me more then convinced
That every girl needed saving
A castle and a prince .
I pictured how my prince would be
Loving tall and brave.
I wanted to be that damsel
Waiting to be saved .
But princes are for stories,
I learned that as i grew ,
They fed me dreams and wishes
That never would come true .
No one really needs a castle
Or silk robes that hit the floor ,
If love is so substantial,
Shouldnt it require more ?
Love gets really messy ...
And there are no magic spells
To make it all work perfectly
You need more then wishing wells .
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 8:15 AM UTC
Substantial quadrants of hate
Throughout these veins circulate
Spiraling in frenzied states
Adrift an ailing coma
Infinite corruption clawed my corneas
Birthing the erasure of euphoria
Imprinting trademarks of memoria
Leaving in wake vile aromas
All confidence dissolved to solvents
Due to definitive involvement
Susceptible to gaunt installments
Marring my skin with melanoma
Mother Earth serves as a mime
Humanity must be refined
© 2012 (All rights reserved)
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 1:23 AM UTC
I was walking my big Ridgeback Mr. Brown
across the Starbucks parking lot
when this little white poodle started yapping
from the rolled-down window of a brand new Mercedes.
Mr. Brown responded like shot from guns
and before I knew it
he was scratching at the Mercedes door
eager to make friends with the poodle.
Then the Mercedes owner came running out of Starbucks
spilling latte all over his substantial stomach
What the ****
Look at those ******* scratches!
Do you know how much it costs
to fix a car like this?
I’m suing you and your big ******* dog !
Not wise, sir, I responded…
to be so aggressive with someone you don’t even know
and who has a 110-lb. African Lionhound
on the end of his leash.
I might be a whacked-out Vietnam veteran
with a hairtrigger temper
or a gang member
or maybe I'm just a senior citizen
with an extremely protective service dog.
Well, he said, his belly shaking,
look at my **** car.
I am looking at it I said
and handed him the keys to my ’68 Shelby Cobra
parked and shiny right nearby.
Take mine, I said
it’s more fun to drive.
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 5:56 AM UTC
How?
If even there were
A force in this universe
Sustaining life beyond just breath
Beyond this web of neurons
Firing in predictable patterns
Prescribing every inclination and desire
A flame in which is fully forged
The consciousness that
Dreams and dares all things
Beyond our mere survival
If even there were such a force
How would it be made known?
How does a foundation work
When the fundamental building blocks
Are massless, pointlike?
As much wave as particle
Basking in the sunlight of uncertainty
Existing in duality
How, when everything else is
Nothingness
A void a million billion times more extensive
Than anything substantial
That surrounds it
A vacuum that renders
The remaining matter pointless
How could force be hollow
Yet encompass all
What does it all mean
When all of matter falls in between
This unseen field
Rippling, wriggling, rigging
Everything it fills with the seedlings of decay
Each day
Moving along the breakdown towards
Entropy
Splendid chaos,
Almost too perfect to be called such
How could we not see
The force
Still elusive, but unchanged
Striking a balance
Between fate and volatility
The neverending battle
That morphs each how into a why
The demon and the butterfly
Nov 11, 2021
Nov 11, 2021 at 5:34 PM UTC
I like to play RPGs
It's a world that is unlike my own
and I'm a character I've named myself.
Sometimes I save my progress
on a file- safe and undisturbed-
and then I wreak havoc,
make friends I wouldn't make,
experiment for potential easter eggs.
It feels good to know I can just go back
to where I started
unfazed, undamaged, unharmed.
And if I ever do something substantial
in my free-for-all joyride of side quest,
I can always save it to another file.
There are so many memory cards in my drawer.
I find myself living life this way-
but with empty drawers
and only one disturbed file.
of only one fazed, damaged, harmed, character,
that my brother named when I was a baby,
in a world that I don't like too much.
And everyone tells me it's a game-
that we all put our hours in.
I just see the option
of a never-ending boss battle with loneliness,
or a never-ending side quest with friends,
and too much damage done,
so where better to let my thumbs rest?
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 7:46 AM UTC
When I was a kid all I wanted to do was smoke ****
But nowadays its harder stuff that my body really needs
In my teenage yeas smoking on a spliff
It would seem to be a substantial lift
Before long though my depression took hold
Alcohol and cigarettes making me look old
I fell into a bad crowd, moving drugs that were illicit
My life moving so fast I probably could have missed it
MDMA in my system and I felt so loved
Ecstasy wasn't enough to see God above
I experimented with psychedelics and I had a real ball
But my habits got deeper, and my friends, I lost them all
I turned to the streets to pay for my increasing routines
But my job on the street interferes with my dreams
So now I'm just a shadow of my former self
A syringe smiles at me from the bottom shelf
Sometimes I need a little bump just to get my mind right
But often times a bump can turn into a wild night
Sometimes I need to get level with some golden dope
But too much of that **** and my life can lose all hope
I often wonder if my life would be alright
If I was never molested on that dreary night
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 5:16 AM UTC
I squashed a cockroach the other day.
A big, Fat, Cockroach.
It was trying to get away and I squashed it.
Not that I had anything against that, Particular cockroach but, I was bare-foot.
I had tea, And biscuits, And was bare-foot when he made his dash across the corridor.
It took some time to calm down and, Fetch another tray.
When I returned, The cockroach had moved.
A thick, white streak, Of substantial viscosity, Ran right across the floor and, Straight under my door.
Her gartered leg was up on the table.
She removed a delicate silver pistol and, With his back turned, Fired a single shot.
I used a shoe this time, Like a maniac,
And then, Framed by a single, Swinging light-bulb, Waited for the detective.
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 11:25 AM UTC
we become accustomed to the brainwashed idea of what living is,
working more hours than time we spend with those we love,
to come home empty-handed with a sour face.
happiness is thought to be a piece of paper
that gets you places and things.
but is that illusion of materialism true to rid of desolation?
solace lies within
and contentment takes time.
let not our distraction of mortality wave us from seeing the good,
but our dualism let us see the meaningless of every day.
our moments are fleeting,
and will one day be forgotten.
what we smiled for, cried for, and died for,
will one day lose its meaning.
is this pessimism?
or is it truth?
is it objective thinking,
refusing to believe that
we are anything substantial?
one day they will laugh at our irrelevancy.
for people come and go,
and what is today,
will one day be in ruins.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 9:26 AM UTC
Fingers elegantly swimming across a sea of black and white keys,
each one unique and substantial to each melody.
They speak to the ears that long for a tune,
as people entangle themselves until they are consumed.
Let me play the depths of my soul,
in each crevasse and story that remains untold.
When words fail to vocalize all that I feel,
I turn to this instrument so that it may reveal;
Every emotion and memory that lingers in my mind,
what only these keys can only define.
They're like any key it's simple to see,
but I understand if you're having some difficulty.
A key opens a door and These keys open my soul.
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 10:17 PM UTC
All pray for sunny rays
But the sunny days have
gone
a--way
lead astray smokey grey just to say
good--bye
Yeah,
I must have blazed a few back in my
Hey--day
But the skies still blue turns a different hue
but only on May--
Days
Well.,
I guess that's the reason why the meaning of life
Or at least for me?
is so
un--substantial even tho some-times we fold
but don't forget___ to line it with hope
Or maybe much so?
that our minds are now frac--
tured
So..
Don't tread on my mi-cro frac--
tions
( As I would often say )
Seeing that mines are both split / in personalities of my current
Reality?
Yo.,
But that's just a very small frac--
shun
in this type of re--
ac-
tion
Nov 30, 2022
Nov 30, 2022 at 3:00 AM UTC