"tediousness" poems
I remember the day we just spent hours and hours together
Even though
I know
At the time it wasn’t quite so interesting
Now with my infinite wealth of knowledge
Granted to me by time, so arbitrary in nature
It seems to me like those were the good old days
Just you and me together
I can leave out all the tediousness
The clangs and clutters that inhabit any day on this strange planet
And just remember what it was like
To be with you
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 10:51 PM UTC
They said it would get easier.
They always say that though, don't they?
A decade has gone by since the moment of my descent, when the sun began to set over me.
Ten years of surviving instead of living, constantly struggling and slipping.
Ten years of feeling the tediousness of each hesitant breath, mourning again & again after each sudden death.
Ten years of wondering when it was going to start getting easier like they all promised it would.
But the only thing getting easier is ignoring the pain of fresh wounds from old habits.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
I. nope.
II.
long-windedness verbosity
diffuseness prolixity
wordiness rambling
circuity discursiveness
redundancy tautology
tediousness verbiage
verboseness length
longevity permanence
garrulity windiness
volubility circumlocution
expansiveness babbling
periphrasis gushing
blathering protractedness
waffling lengthiness
iteration repetition
prating prattling
jabbering digressiveness
dreariness tedium
deadliness wandering
repetitiousness repetitiveness
pleonasm convolution
logorrhoea boringness
maundering superfluity
duplication tiresomeness
monotony reiteration
gabbiness informality
mouthiness diffusion
logorrhea wordage
blah-blah dryness
dullness boredom
sameness loquaciousness
talkativeness loquacity
freeness orotundity
roundaboutness breadth
gobbledegook gassiness
wittering multiloquence
perissology big mouth
gift of the gab garrulousness
staleness tallness
Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 9:38 AM UTC
Never before has such a lie been received as the truth
As an I.O.U. that's masked within the words of I love you
For she would not be here without the chivalry of he
And she will show gratitude inside her misery
It happened and it stayed and she said she would correct it
And more time passed 'till she became complacent in her perspective
Until she found herself stuck between a rock and a heartbreak
The man who provided everything in return for a heart to take
He built his world around her with all the wishes finite
Not knowing why his love would stray away throughout the night
And he knew but refused to know, she told but refused to say
And so it carried on in the tediousness of days
And who will learn and who will crack and which side first will cry
Learning secrets and questions that seem to underlie
For love was meant to represent more than a toleration
The knight who saved her from the beasts and guaranteed her incarceration
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 4:38 PM UTC
At her wheel again
Spinning and spinning
What will be the output, joy or pain?
Far, far away it is from our knowing,
Only the young sun on the east can tell.
A perfect dilution
Of sweet and bitterness,
Who dares the separation?
No one could endure the tediousness
Only her and her alone.
Wheel as you will
Its joy and pain we've all seen
What now will it be?
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 4:33 PM UTC
At her wheel again
Spinning and spinning
What will be the output, joy or pain?
Far, far away it is from our knowing,
Only the young sun on the east can tell.
A perfect dilution
Of sweet and bitterness,
Who dares the separation?
No one could endure the tediousness
Only her and her alone.
Wheel as you will
Its joy and pain we've all seen
What now will it be?
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
The Bug
Is Love a compulsion, the sudden idea that this person,
no others, will meet all your need and make you happy.
It is a moment, falling in love only happens once when
you are among the blessed and anointed by the gods.
For some, the illusion lasts a lifetime for others it falls
at the first hurdle of familial tediousness.
Luckily love is transferable you meet someone else who
will make you happy but it will not be the same as first
time, no matter how many times you try love is a gift
only given once, the rest is repetition
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 7:08 AM UTC
I think of you
In the days we loved.
When we shimmered with a brilliance
That made the sun blush.
And we didn't care or fear
If we would burn out,
As long as we spun
To glorious ash together.
Take us then and lock us away.
Pluck those short days
From the script
And write us
No more.
Let us be each other's
First songs and swan songs-
And we would be happy.
To never know another soul
The way we know each other,
And we would be content.
The truth of first loves,
Kept safe from the wisdom
And cowardice of age,
That teaches us to be cautious
With our hearts
Reluctant in our affections.
But now…now the world
Would ruin us.
Obsession weakened,
Diluted by the mundane,
The tediousness of days
That tempers us from
What we were
To what we are;
And shows us to be
Dim reflections of ourselves.
So I keep you treasured away
In my recesses,
In the days we loved-
Where time cannot strip away
Nor circumstance impose
Its penalties.
Where you still burn
With reckless abandon,
So as to consume me completely.
But this time
I will turn to ash
Alone.
Oct 15, 2024
Oct 15, 2024 at 11:09 PM UTC
she was the kind of crazy people thought they liked
had a bit of a wild streak
not much of a filter
and didn't really distinguish who could get with her
at least
that what they thought was all to her
in reality
behind that beautifully masked facade
she was a fragile girl
going through the world
looking only for affection
with maybe just a hint of validation
her eyes dreamed for the world
thinking she was ready
going head first but never steady
not afraid of difficult feats
but quick to leave if her desires never meet
maybe she was fickle
loathed tediousness
and badgering of regrets
(also, the grossness of sweat)
but on the contrary
her patience was weary
and with the dullness of life
she was starting to lose her faith in faeries
maybe a bit scary
but you
you loved her
full and through
and there was nothing
you would not do
just to hear that goofy laugh
and see that dimpled grin
you finally came to terms with it,
your love for her was a blissful sin.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 10:09 PM UTC
Body language speaking in Shakespearian sonnet,
As I evolve from boy to man,
Hungers I battle to remain silent,
This mutual silence screams we are both in need.
Bogarting my path to seduction,
Fueling my fantasies with possibility,
I pray to god my morals vanish,
In the end it remains a dream.
A spitfire,
sophisticated and dazzling,
Motivating me to enjoy such tediousness,
I fall in love with the idea of fornication.
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 5:41 AM UTC
When did, ‘You can be
Anything’, become –
‘You must be everything’.
The mother, the provider, the
Teacher, the preacher
Of hopes and dreams for
Millennial babies. Their lot
In life cast only by themselves.
An epic of their own making.
9-5 then home again,
To dishes and husbands,
Both alike in tediousness
The warrior of sleepless
Nights, lost teeth, and
Abandoned dreams.
My mother was a Mosuo,
Her grandmother an Amazon,
Matriarchs of power
Who ruled as iron ladies.
Wooden spoons were
Their guns, and
Aprons their armour,
With a flint-like stare,
And perfectly curled hair,
They convened court in
Their sitting rooms with
Cups of tea and an intelligent
Eye; that told tales, tales
Of a proud matriarchal
Ancestry, a dynasty.
‘You are one of us,
Dear millennial baby,
A future queen whose
Kingdom will be your
Kitchen, a place where
No man dare step’.
I am not a feminist
Nor a suffragette or
A dictator. I am a
Millennial baby, and
My dreams are not aligned
With the ancestral stars.
I am a daughter and a
Sister, my voice is cast
From the silent mountains
Who rise like towers to the east,
To the drought stricken
Valley that grows more
Brown and crinkled with
Each day. Do you hear me
Now spirits of old?
You tell me to be a lawyer
So I will teach. My hopes
Do not align with your stars.
I am watched by
Eager eyes for the time
In which I may rise as queen.
Those eyes will be disappointed.
For millennial babies do not
Become queens. They are
A pair of ******* with legs,
To be gawked at by the peanut-
Crunching gallery of
Men. Men. Men. Those
Who reign in the bedroom
where their power is greatest.
‘You are Otrera. Esther.
Joan of Arc. You are Rosa Park,
Portia, Ophelia, Deborah’
Those matriarchs seem to
Say. ‘You are a matriarch,
Uphold our legacy!’
Jan 9, 2020
Jan 9, 2020 at 6:36 PM UTC
Morning tediousness.
I take my sight through the room and I spot loneliness standing in the corner.
The window's opened, warm breeze coming in. The summer sun's up high.
I feel your presence, but not in a physical form.
A bird's nest inside my chest, with no pigeons just emptiness.
Both of us always staring through the distance.
Eyes always devouring,
mouth drooling.
Catching your eyes sight,
everlasting in me.
Limitless and wild
I let the silk fall down
in my mind.
I was never yours to keep,
you were never mine to stay.
Yet the energy calls us,
or perhaps it only calls me.
Nothing to demand, nothing to wish.
So keep staring in silence
with your everlasting sight in me.
Dec 18, 2020
Dec 18, 2020 at 7:18 PM UTC