"sympathies" poems
To the teachers who never really cared and ignored my problems;
To my fellow ***** “misfits”, etc. Who will no doubt receive more abuse upon my passing, as my tormentors will no longer have me to push around;
To those who never cared, never spoke, probably never knew my name;
To the one true friend, whose caring was the only thing that prevented this event from happening sooner;
To the God, if he does exist, who chose to play a cruel, cruel joke on me when he placed me where he did and surrounded me with so many uncaring faces;
What about my teachers? Will they be sorry to see another student become a statistic? Certainly the administration and Principal will mourn, as my death will not reflect well on them as an institution. Well, I apologize for making the statistics for your administration worse. But I don’t expect an apology for the false sympathies of people.
As for my fellow students, those who made a more significant impact on my life, I know better than to expect my tormentors to mourn.
There’s another group I have not yet addressed: those not like me who left me alone. Or should I say ignored me. I appreciate you sparing me any further harassment, but your inaction, your withheld hellos and how are you’s did more hurt than any name calling. Your inaction effectively excluded me from student life, from the human race. You left me isolated and alone, and no words I could say can convey to you the suffering you caused. I could name names, but in doing so, I would do more now for you than you ever did for me in life.
I do not know what awaits me when I get down off this rope. Will there be a void? Or will I come face to face with God? I just don’t care anymore. If you’re anything like your people, I wouldn’t want to know you. You preached to love one another, yet I’ve felt everything except love from Christians. Even if I knew you were different, well, I'd still reject you. You have left your “followers” to treat people like me poorly. You have allowed so many of the people you “love”, including me, to suffer. So you want me to trust you with my life? I don’t want to spend eternity with a careless deity like you, or with the company you keep.
I’m trying to watch TV but I don’t know what I’m watching. It’s so lonely here. I want to sleep but it just won’t come. I’m so tired of hurting and being alone.
I hope that with my death, there'll be a wider awareness for child abuse and the effects it could have on a person. That's the only wish I have right now. A lot of people will be hurt with my passing, disappointed even, or maybe it won't matter. But I'd like to believe, no matter how much of a ****** up person I am, I died for a cause greater and bigger than myself. That's the only consolation that I have right now.
So that’s it. That’s me. Leaving the world to be a better place.
Goodbye - T
© Copyright Tyler Atherton
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 6:41 AM UTC
I'm *** positive
So text me sympathies
Lie to me
Tell me nothing has changed and nothing will
Tell me we're friends and we'll remain
Make me stand in front of a mirror to see if i can face myself
Act like you care
Veil yourself and blame the air
Look down on me
Fake a wow for my worn out shoes
But look into my eyes before you leave
They speak volumes
I'm just not crying
Maybe i wont wake up in the morning- maybe i will
Bash my family like i feed on their blood
Maybe it was just my fault- maybe not
Maybe i have never made love
Maybe i have never done drugs
Maybe it was my latest tattoo that reads " I miss you mom"
Maybe it was the tetanus shot i had last month
Admit that you don't care
Act ill to not eat what i share
You're just another educated
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 12:41 PM UTC
A duality of elan vital, two people
Spectres of emotion
Intertwined by a fuselage of bruised skin & tendon
Tissues become orbital, gushing towards grafts
Helixes of snot, **** and lymph
Boy & girl
As they embrace the animating principle and eachother, they fuse
A one piece tapestry adorned seamless with no hem, beginning or end
Always was, always is
Patiently turning to liquid as their being unzips
Lying figures of runny makeup and genetic *****
Quintessence, a texture of synaptic potential
Corpus Callosum
An entirety of self, lost in imbued disintegration
Theory of mind, looped & bound
I will water the thought
Roots envisaged in dystopian amygdala
Piercing data packets with a frost-like intensity
Forgetting our obsolescence moments ago
A neuron dipped in nylon
Theta waves and the non-euclidean crux of dissociation
Ghosts in the machine, your macro god
The sympathies of fractional distillation
Digitised/assimilated unto the nanosphere
Cold hands and brass backs galvanised in oscillated tears
Commodified, sold out and bought
Stretching, from purple, white and black
slowly losing its colour, amorphous in shape
brushed across a smudge, ambiguously chromatic
Monetised flesh god
An eternity bathed in starlight
Cutting an incision in the sky to allow entropy
Divided dimensions of energy
Fleeting and intangible
No longer a delirium of seperation
All semantics become light
As a rusted vehicle passes overhead
And all the worlds questions fade out of existence
Flutters of red tape and foregone growth of practice
Sinew flayed, integrated towards information
Our minds shared
In circuits and resistors
Photons and electrons
We radiate
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
<Insert Poem Here>
<Insert Silent Sympathies Here>
<Insert Spiraling Tenancies Here>
(Wait...No. Not that.)
<Delete Line>
<Insert Self Doubt Here>
<Insert Friends Here>
[File Not Found]
::Comment:: What about me?
<Insert Apology Here>
<Insert Regret Here>
<Insert Pain Here>
<Insert Poem Here>
<RvL>
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 10:07 AM UTC
Morsi stands among
his people as an expression
of Egypt's democratic will
democratically elected
his feet are rooted in the
constitutional right to rule
Morsi has one foot on a
pillar of secular democracy
promising to uphold Egypt's
journey to an egalitarian future
this pillar advances the
republican ideal that
safeguards diversity
and a people's liberty
to express free will
this pillar brought him
to office and justifies his
right to rule
ironically it’s also a pillar
that Morsi's guiding philosphy
find impossible to suffer
Morsi's other foot is firmly
planted on a pillar of
Sharia sympathies
upholding the divine
foundation of his rule
over this earthly principality
Muslim Brotherhood’s
cardinal principles
undermine the pillar
of secular precepts
that equally enfranchise
all citizens
Sharia Laws allows no standing
to equal rights of women,
religious minorities,
LGBT civil liberties and
advocates suppression
of atheistic and
progressive political groups
this has riled the
democratic sympathies
of the Egyptian people
Morsi's actions
threaten to tip the pillar of
secular democracy back
into the Nile’s murky waters
Morsi's stance
is precarious and as his
feet slip he realizes
he is not the
Colossus of Rhodes
he believed himself to be
discovering it impossible
to bestride the pillars
supporting incompatible
structures
the generals have declared
a road map for stability that
rescinds the constitution,
dissolves the parliament
and places the military
as sole protectorate
of the nation
is the preservation of
a democratic republic more
important than the return
to the rule of a military junta?
is it more wise to place
principles before personalities?
Morsi’s next steps are
uncertain
The pathway of the
people’s democratic
journey remains unclear
the sound of the military’s
marching boots grow louder
Music Selection:
Sweet Honey on the Rock
Marching Off to Freedom Land
Oakland
070313
jbm
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 11:08 AM UTC
I've looked at my own palms
And seen the lines of this life fading
Fire, water, earth
All getting swallowed by the air
I've turned to love for grace
But she spat sympathies unholy
Success is but a sunset
When there's no soul with it to share
I've fallen to the ground and begged
The moon to give me courage
Yet that mystic orb just waned
And left me naked like a child
I've searched the maze for truth
Ground my teeth upon the logic
But once I left the cave for light
My place was lost among the wild
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide,
As being pass’d away.—Vain sympathies!
For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,
I see what was, and is, and will abide;
Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide;
The Form remains, the Function never dies;
While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise,
We Men, who in our morn of youth defied
The elements, must vanish;—be it so!
Enough, if something from our hands have power
To live, and act, and serve the future hour;
And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
Through love, through hope, and faith’s transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.
3.6k
A circuit land,
Overshadowed by late, orange, blooms.
Tough powers tower high,
Mirroring fear to passersby.
Forest rich with opportunity,
Potential plots for growth,
Short showers bear us fruits,
Of evermore enriching schemes.
Spikes of hopes, dreams and wonders,
Base levels of lost sympathies,
Crying wounds of hungry symphonies,
Howls of jeer, malice, and thunder.
A shattered system holds us together,
A web void of its structure, and spider,
Leadership is not without its tethers,
Binding back what was once deep.
Inside those who not heed,
Of the instincts that lead to their greed
We need you dreamers, to help us gaze
And see the stars again, through that lamp lit haze.
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 11:22 AM UTC
I sought satisfaction in stupid sheepishly and shallow strides.
Scared subconsciously, I swallow and sustain substance for pseudo self esteem strengthening.
I seemed of in service to slumber and stinging sadness, shots sank like ships, submerging into the sea of my swarthy stomach in seconds.
I somewhat sympathies as a sailor, sweating, struggling and swimming in slipping sobriety saturated in my sulking style.
Scanning swarms of serial swindlers, striking sculptures stances of self-doubt.
I stammer in a storm of slurs, ******* down my safety, stopping myself at the stoop of the saloon I see a seductive silhouette staging the space.
She stroke my sight, standing sanguine in scarlet, soul sold in high heels.
The smoothest sculptures in seven square miles were subjugated into scree and I was ****** in submission.
Stubborn staggering suitors, stand shaking silently as she is stopped by sharks stalking and snarling sycophantics.
So straightforward in suggesting their secret starvation to strip sensations, seem by seem, like a sub-par **** cinema scene.
They step and speak short.
She smokes off, stranding the scree in smoldering slaughter.
Its sad this soul-less sanctuary soaking up sorrows.
So self inflicting, and so satisfyingly side splitting.
She sported her spurned, scorned off into sadistic solitude and stained sticky stigma, sobbing to sleep.
So spent from simple stocked, stored and supported senescence of ceremonial subjection of ****** status.
I savior my sincerity, and stretched out of this strange stadium of stooges.
So long scarlet sanguine I sang softly, as she stole my sight suspiciously in sync with hers.
Sacrificial seconds split from smearing stolidity to sharing a smile.
That's simple satisfaction, so I seen scripted in sitcoms and shows.
Supporting sapiens in stasis to see sappy stunners on screen, to stare snoopy, as stabs and slashes strike socially into socialites of so called sanity and sovereignty.
To sweetly pay salvage as slaves of soppy studio slander.
Such is this sorry Saturday night, I am solidified in sedation.
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 12:00 PM UTC
Because-because-because it is like using crutches even when you are absolutely well and can jump around!!!
No Bluetooth compatibility with devices of other makes renders it alienated in a desert full of better devices.
Not many in-built free-to-use applications exist that can be transferred to or from friends using iPhone only.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 6:59 AM UTC
I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide,
As being past away.—Vain sympathies!
For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,
I see what was, and is, and will abide;
Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide;
The Form remains, the Function never dies;
While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise,
We Men, who in our morn of youth defied
The elements, must vanish;—be it so!
Enough, if something from our hands have power
To live, and act, and serve the future hour;
And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
Through love, through hope, and faith’s transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.
2.4k
You tell me you're empty
And I know you want my sympathies
My acknowledgement of the problem
But all I can give you is the gawking gaze
Of a child on his first trip to the zoo
Leaving smudges on the snake tank as he tries to fathom
How something could be so alien and smooth and powerful.
You tell me you're empty
And all I can think is
That I have not a moment of my life to compare that to-
A day without suffering, without pain or danger,
Without that or joy so intense it tips right back over into treachery
I have no memory of any such day
To draw from for empathy.
I stand and stare at you
Empty you
And I know your sadness should be respected
And I know I shouldn't wonder so perversely
What it must feel like
Not to feel
But I can't help it
I feel like I'm standing on the other side of glass
Staring into the beady eyes of a boa constrictor
Wondering irresistibly
What its embrace must feel like for the mice it devours.
I know you are suffocating
But I
Am drowning
And I wonder
What empty feels like.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 7:49 PM UTC
jaeger.
chasseur.
foxtail.
seduction of fascism in mind,
like tumbling autumn leaves
ever and always
on the steps of a country house.
always and ever
just outside the aix-les-bains dance hall.
his blousy new bride
and her old lover
aware of his sympathies and
the danger he presents to them.
jaeger.
chasseur.
foxtail.
seduction of fascism in mind,
ever and always
on a deserted alpine road.
always and ever
one trail of blood,
remnant of the preyed upon.
she screams against the glass,
quiet devil in the backseat
haunted by the disorder
of his own mind.
eyes opened to
his own mutability.
alienation is immanent,
bred in the bone.
a desperate need for gravitas,
built upon vaporous credulity.
and she is pursued through the woods
ever and always,
through iridescent fields
always and ever,
until finally in his crosshairs
she falls.
those like him have not suddenly
vanished from the earth, but
are merely lying in wait.
Mar 25, 2022
Mar 25, 2022 at 3:22 PM UTC
oh what sustains this mind
a mind that teeters
on the edge of a spiral vertigo
that sways and rocks
in an unease of palpitations
attempting to escape
from the brutal insensitivity
of the granite faces that occupy the streets
a mind of hallucinated perceptions
with a constant stream of imagery
that finds a difficulty in the self negotiation,
the articulation of its inner geography
where a frightened availability of disturbance
in the vocabulary of its chemical graffiti
leaves speech vacated on the tongue
where eyes are pushed to see
a discord of sympathies for different dimensions
that has one disassociated, cut off from the immediate
living in an inner dialogue
of rebellious and unconventional preoccupations
a self alienation that heightens
the poetic colouring of the imagination
causes a ************ of the mind
that makes me cripplingly aware
of the abyss at the heart of my inner disquiet
makes my toes hover on the jagged edge of the world
yet I jump choosing discovery over societal dictum
to do rather than be
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
by the lake at sunrise
a strange dedication hangs in the air
concealed in threads of mist
that hang here, ghostly blankets
suspended by invisible strings
there is a silence without end every where
amorphous, it is as if the very elements themselves
hold their breath, poised
waiting for something to happen
while a silvery unexplained light
floats like mercury
on the lurid waters of the lake
the world looks on
in hideous and embarrassed silence
as I taste the lamentations of past times
a discord of sympathies swirl about
i cry out strange words
like making a wish in Latin
i am carried in a high altitude of color
through a French Pantheon of poems
and by the lakeside emaciated figures
form a density of mood
dripping in emotional subtlety
which cannot be properly named
my eyes gaze out upon the lake
in a vocabulary of incoherent signs
images that have no articulation
like that of a rancid stain
of ***** on a curved floor
that compares effects of sensitivity
to neurotic symbols
that rest uneasily on the walls
of hospital waiting rooms
a poetic syntax of sonorous symbolism
sensuously slashed
like a very, very sad crossword
I am high by the lakeside at sunrise
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
You; that exquisite individual.
Highly metaphysical, a question of the mind,
Rather more about what’s inside?
Where can I find the meaning,
The description of what I’m seeing,
Even when you’re out of sight?
**** is what you do right.
Your clenched fist when you have to fight,
Or a gentle kiss on pained lips.
Sometimes it’s the tongue you bite,
Despite your habit of expressing your thoughts
You also have the insight to see
They’ve already had a cold, hard night.
They’ll apologize in daylight, and
You’ve been there too.
**** is not listening when that *** tells you to shut up,
That ad tells you about your big ****
or ANYONE dares call you a ****
You’ve got enough voices
Reminding you of choices,
But you stand satisfied
With modest pride of the life you live.
You’re more than ****
You are seductive, and desirable,
Astonishing and admirable.
You don’t give a **** about a single thing seen in the magazines
Because when you smile, it’s with every fiber of your being.
And you cry from a soul that’s bleeding.
You never think about how others are seeing you,
You are not here for them.
Your ends will justify the means to your methods.
You are respected because you respect yourself,
You care like no one else, but still protect yourself.
At times a little too much, you can be hard to touch,
But you’re never out of reach for someone drowning
Off this beach of a life.
You mend miseries, offer sympathies,
Yet never ask for a symphony dedicated
To the things you do for others.
You’re humble, but you have troubles too.
We all do.
Why are you ****
I appreciate you.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 5:05 PM UTC
*I hope your heart mends soon
May the stars console you
As well as the moon
May God get you through this hard time
May the Fairies dry your tears and kiss your cheek
May God mend your heart
You are so beautiful and meek
May you feel better soon
May you stoop to sniff a rose
And dream beside a creek
And may you dance like the flower that grows
And read beneath a palm tree
May the waves cheer you up
And the sand cool your feet
And with seashells fill your bucket up
Smell the salty breeze
Sit beside the ocean with a glass of lemonade
Watch the palm trees on the shore
Sweetly dancing in the shade
At night watch the silent moon
So may God heal your broken heart in time
Watch the flowers dance and waltz
Listen to the bells that sweetly chime
My deepest sympathies*
~Marian~
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 9:54 PM UTC
Surely these surly bits
Must be burrs caught up in my
Makeup -
Making up reasons for
Why my spit was accidental.
I done been through a
Rough patch or two -
Crawling with these
Thorns in my knees
Across funky plateaus
That poke their chests out
In their scouts
For sunnier flora.
Though,
I assume their search
Didn't go over so well.
'cause these scabbings won't heal
Like I want them to,
Buried under gobs of
Ointment
That was supposed to take care of it
(And
One more bandage
Just in case).
I'm just moseying on through,
With my feelers out,
Making sure you're someone
I have to know.
In and on my way
Somewhere
In this crazy field,
Waiting for sunflowers
To bless my prayers
While I continue to
Make room for myself to
Slip past
Without being noticed.
I'm smiling so hard
To keep the soft-hearted
At bay -
Trying to avoid being forced
Into pinpoint relations
With clueless drifters
Who refuse to stay on their side.
They only mean well -
I know this,
I do.
But, the simple has yet to escape me.
Send your
Sympathies
To the weak ones,
Roleplaying
Alongside the meek,
For these are the creed
Who,
Without giving heed,
Deliver their lives
To bliss.
Sep 7, 2011
Sep 7, 2011 at 11:02 AM UTC
Dumpsters are cold
Shelter grow mold
and slim is the spanging
Whiskey is warm
Dreads are the norm
and our sanity is estranging
Food out of cans
Roadtrip plans
The highways are always changing
Flying deceiving signs
Waiting in foodstamp lines
Sympathies constantly rearranging
Constellations are the roof
Provides strangeness aloof
Capitalism's fat ca-ching
Dirt inbetween toes
Where to? nobody knows
Life on the edge of healing
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 3:19 AM UTC
Consideration took into account
Conditions to be deliberated
Planning in advance
Kept a count
Their intentions set in mind
Way ahead of time
If compassion, were to be
Handed out
Sympathy checked in with feelings
Seeking out the strongest surge
While sorrow and misfortune began reeling
Within an
Empathetic urge
Frightened panic cried out in dismay
At sympathies fearlessness
While unkind words unmercifully
Shook the day
Oct 13, 2010
Oct 13, 2010 at 7:37 PM UTC
Sweet liars and their sugar coated lies…
Root from their heart and branch out in the skies…
Their innocent souls and deceptive eyes…
Their polished shoes and branded ties…
In the beginning they seek your attention…
The next desire is your affection…
By recital of their past and rejection…
Either from them or from other direction…
“Don’t sympathies sweetheart, I am a strong man… Okay”…
“My heart comes free with this ring and bouquet”…
“Say yes, my love, we’ll plan a holiday”…
“Let’s go shopping for your lingerie”…
The candles are lit and the dinner is served…
The charm and chivalry is observed…
His scent and accent leaves you unnerved…
He is definitely the prince you thought you deserved…
Ah! And you fall in the trap and love as well…
Dreaming of him and his tempting propel…
You talk of him and his stories you tell…
Of the vamps he dated and your own love spell …
He has your trust and you are happy high…
His kisses and touch you can’t deny…
“He loves me so much” you amplify…
You light his nights like a firefly…
Now when you feel the bygones are supplanted…
The road gets a little slanted…
When you are more often taken for granted…
His fluctuations show the doldrums are planted…
You inspect the change and the causes aligned…
And come across the love texts enshrined…
You feel shattered and maligned…
The way you are portrayed and opined…
You demotion as ex is celebrated with a raised toast…
With his new flame and he playing host…
You embrace your strength with care utmost…
His vows and love , haunting you like ghosts…
You want to cry till you paralyze…
Blaming thyself for this jeopardize…
The arduous task to analyze, summarize and self sterilize…
From these sweet liars and their sugar coated lies…
~Kathaa Kirti
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 4:25 AM UTC
Sea breeze carrying scents
From foreign fields.
Blossoming sympathies reaching
Out over the fences of Lafayette
Cemetary.
Forest breath rustling leaves with
Faint animal musk and the
Serenity of centuries.
Still nothing smells quite like a
Young woman; bare feet and towel
Draped- fresh from
Shower
Passing.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 5:36 AM UTC
Twenty-three and coming from my teens
I’ve developed along already categorized genes,
By those who think they know me,
When I’m only twenty-three with a molding mentality
I was once vicariously raised through parentally guided means
Socially slit by those that promised me prosperity if I was studious,
Taught the importance of individuality,
Yet forced to be obedient
Then indoctrinated with an educator’s prescription,
An addiction they picked up in a higher institution
I’m finding it hard to follow your lead, when you found nourishment in my youthful innocence,
Socially stitched through generationally fostered fixes
Notions that you could promise me providence,
I’ve been cradled in a crib riddled with termites
Time shows little sympathy for those who have yet to comprehend the promise of a six foot end,
Yet you trained me to believe you didn’t domesticate me
Despite being conceived in a place I was not well received,
You taught the importance of obedience
Yet I’m finding it hard to accept your ancestral credence,
When this place has been passed along bloodlines,
When my generationally guided grandparents' felt the final close of their eyes,
And left me a world pieced together by both atrocities and glimpses of humanity
I’m finding it hard to speak in a world with such narcissistic sympathies of the traditionally raised
Yet I’m socially sutured by the fact that I still breathe,
While being born in a place that once found stability through a slave trade,
A middle passage that led to a devious democracy
I’m so grateful we can mend what barbarians once began,
I’ve had time to age, enough to take the reins,
Though before we build our shrines of this age,
You can still pray for something beyond the grave,
Yet never forget how we've been stranded, left here to continue, or to fray,
To humanize a species that earth derived,
Or to let the braids of life untwine and give way,
During our generations' stay.
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 9:25 AM UTC