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M-E Jul 2018
I’m the nameless, nobody
Born of a nameless, nonexistent mum
And a nameless, nonexistent dad
In a placeless city
New in town and I don’t mind
To re-shape my mind
By a town that is so ruthless,
So thoughtless and -
I am feeble
But certainly in a new form
A new coming storm,
A cyclone,
A cyclops,
A mongrel
Decapitating your approval and pity
I’m glass, seen through and sharp
An undecipheral writing
Meticulously weird and uncanny
I’m a boy, a girl
A maniac,
A brainiac,
A pyromaniac,
A junior granny
It’s funny
Wondering why I’m the way I am
You sculptor -
I’m leaving,
Somewhere where I will not find you
For the bullied and the forgotten generation.

Can’t we find a solution instead of demolition, intentionally or unintentionally?
Kanishka Apr 28
A poet suffocates on lack of words,
A blank sheet and an empty soul.
For there is nothing more torturous,
Than when his muse renounces her role.
Eric Jan 12
That feeling I love so much , that feeling of your touch.  Your smell sends me into complete comfort. But you always make me feel like it's my turn . To say something unimaginable , just to hurt you . When all you've said was things to hurt me too . And you've done that , and you'd think that's enough . But no she wants to make everything rough . She takes to my pleading like it's venom to her veins, when all I want her to know is that she causes me so much pain. But she don't care and that's what destorys me , I ask her how could it be . You said you love me . But destory every part of my being . And I let go , like I wasn't enough . You hurt me with your way of love . Forgive me for everything I gave up . Just i make you comfortable when you still thought I wasn't enough.
And I ramble through anything to make things better . They ask me how can I let her . Because love isn't just a one go getter . You felt whole till you got a missing peice . Just disappeared without a trace . Even know you still had a home in the first place . And I'm the disgrace . You family hates me , and will find anyone to replace . Me....I'm not me anymore , you've made me so sore , that even flying doesn't get me happy . I rather have a hundred women slap me . Then have you hate me . But forgive me . I've forgot who I was . But love is no more in me . Like you wanted it to be..... like I forgot how it felt to be yours in time . Eternity isn't the same when , I'm still traveling the world saying I'm fine .
Kristo Frost Mar 2013
Fire suns out of canons of old and decay in daylight. There might not be blood under your fingernails if you'd refused to laugh. Don't doubt it though, you're being watched. It thinks about your thoughts in thoughtless ways. Dance, pony, humor it. Fail to see the source. Research more. Someone else already answered your stupid questions. Go home. Go broke. Go on as long as you go away. Get a job, you idiot, and make sure it's a good one. If it isn't, fire yourself out of a canon into the Sun. Morphing is addictive. So is heroism. Go, sally gently forth. Froth. Growl low in the gut. Yeah, breathe the fear; die ******* mad about it.
Stephen E Yocum Dec 2013
Hold your tears little man,
Ignore the hurtful things they say.
Rest your head here, with me.
Ten year old kids can be cruel,
Say things they should not say,
Hurt even their friends for no reason,
As yours have done today,
Thoughtless, mean words they were,
Said without thinking,
using bad judgment .

This thing they called you, “Fat Boy”
Or words to that effect, they mean nothing
Unless you let them, unless you don’t
Understand.  .  . Let me explain,
You are a growing boy, nearing what is
Called puberty, a physical change of
Your body from a little boy, on the way
to being a full grown man. Your body
will be ever changing, it’s how it is,
how it’s supposed to be, how it is for all people.
When I was your age, I had a more rounded
Shape as did your Dad at your age as well,
We too heard those mean thoughtless
Words directed at us. I cannot lie it hurt
every bit as much as these words and
names hurt you today.

Rest assured son of my son, dearest friend,
This chubby stuff, it’s only temporary not a
Permanente thing.

Now as to the stupidity of Mean people,
that hurt other people so thoughtlessly,
for them that state of Ignorance and
stupidity might just last forever.

Go dry your eyes and get the ball and Gloves
and let’s play us some catch.
Here wipe your eyes and blow your nose
on my sleeve and think no more about it.
Had this same talk with my grown son when he
was around the same age. Some things never change
when it comes to dealing with other people.
Meanness and ignorance it seems is generational.
To my grandson "W" you won't see this 'till you're
more grown up, until what I have told you has
become a truth apparent even to you.
With Love Poppy
KiraLili Apr 2015
Texts and Twitter and emails have replaced conversation

Statements and replies are so fast and thoughtless , merely instant

People walk side by each silenced with gadgets across the nation

Things designed to bring us closer have made us distant

No one has time to reflect anymore during a slow talk

Emoticons have replaced our inclinations and gestures

Hands are now full and not together during meals or a walk

The physical contact during a conversation, the touch to a forearm, has lost its texture

Cold questions one after another on screens , no more lively banter

Science and technology have quieted our ways, made us so smart

Once we talked deeply and overheard at restaurants were murmurs and laughter

In a few short years conversation and discussion have lost the their art
I people watched while travelling the other day. I saw very few conversations. Thank you SR
Why should the Light return upon
Our cold and darkened land?  
When, into sleep, we drift and yawn,
So thoughtless of His hand...

We never think: "Someday it may
Forever cease to shine!"
We never thank – with thanks, befit –
For Morning Mercies' rise.

Why should the Light return upon
Our cold and darkened land?
But to awaken life at dawn
As He, in Goodness, planned...

We never, then, have an excuse
To fall into a dream
We never, then, can e’re accuse;
His Glory’s, daily, seen.

Lamentations 3:22-23: "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness."
karin naude Nov 2013
Fly I must, soar I must
For eagle, I am
Held captive, I am, was
Forgot how to fly, I did
Forced to conform, I was
Called rebellious, I am
Dubbed trouble maker, I ,me?
What propaganda, I concur
Easier to believe, I observe
what idiots so conformed brainless thoughtless zombies, I laugh
Hunting for mine,I agree

Up over and under I race for freedom, here I come
Wings don't fail me now, I pray
Out of practise, I am
Just flap and keep us steady, born to
Jump, I tumble in the air
Rocky start, I soar
Higher and higher
Hallo clouds, goodbye clouds
Hallo sun and sky, welcome home
L Maughan Mar 28
the evening swayed
in wire-grass savannas
became a Darwinian
of denuded beliefs
a tower of triggers
loosening portraits of dignity
like stacked moth wings
in the flimsy architecture
of  self deception

deluded definitions
of who you
yourself to be
who others
really were
in houses
of flash cards

reduces to ruble
any shred of denial
that we are all
just standing
and freshly bipedal
Annelyra Jan 2015
it is said
that the delicate flutter
of a butterfly's wing
vibrates the Earth
to its core
and transforms

it is also said
that instead
the thoughtless footfalls
of every heavy human
are inevitable
inexorable cartography
splashed across
the landscape in
thin invisible lines
and full of divine

the apathetic
the uproar
the heartache
the blood spilled
the madness

the wings torn off butterflies
that don't shake the earth
and the stamping of feet
over unmarked land
if it turns out this is all
just an intricate
Aditi Dec 2015
It was not good
No, that does not make it bad.
You would find no date marked
On my calendar
Or a goal set
It was what it was
Nothing more than that
A thoughtless act of letting go
And I had finally done something well.

There were no midnight epiphanies
No, the sun still shone the same
The world was still its own paradise
We all were burning in our own flames
Nothing had changed,
Yet nothing remained the same-
Cause of
A thoughtless act of letting go
And I had done it with grace.

I had the day planned,
I had written about it to an extent
The words lost their meaning,
The pages went deaf.
It came ever so suddenly
Like the first drop of rain
From a single lonely cloud
On a sunny day.
Yes, I did not think about it
I just decided to begin again-in another place
Just like that.

It was not selfish
It was not necessarily brave
You don't exaggerate it
To something it never meant.
It was just her
Letting go of the world
That no longer made any sense
She cut all her ties-
The final act of letting go
And she had done it so well.
Marta Nov 2018
I am painting a portrait

I was painting a portrait of my FRIENDS
But instead

I am only portraying what I THINK

There is so much I DON’T see

My words
They don’t portray the friends at all
They only portray how I SEE them
They only portray ME

Is there a painter WHO paints what IS
Not what is SEEN?

Would you have to be HEARTLESS
Would you have to be FEARLESS
Would you have to be THOUGHTLESS

Let’s face it
I am painting a SELF portrait
Words, they convey more about ourselves then the topic we trying to cover.
Words, we all interpret them differently.
Words, they are so frustrating!
How can we ever hope to understand each other!
melissa rose Jun 8
Within this thoughtless moment
and this wordless breathe
I am
Natalie Jan 2018
Growing up, I was taught the story of two men
One built his house upon the rocks and one upon the sand
And I learned the difference between humility and pride
I was taught to differentiate the foolish from the wise
Because when God sent the rainfall and the waters began to rise,
The house on sand crumbled right in front of thoughtless eyes
And my father would tell me, "Darling, don't build your foundation in the weak, in something that might die"
But I've been constructing my home on gravel my entire life

If there is a God
Why did he let me build my house upon the sand?
Why did he lay down every brick and let the nails tear through my hands?
I am an urchin in the dirt leaving claw marks in the earth
And my cries fall from my mouth and cling to my tattered shirt
If there is a God
Then why would he call himself a Father to me?
Why would he want to break my heart and crush my dignity?
He prides himself on the ringing in my ears
and his mason jars of tears
Instead of being my faith, why would God want to be my greatest fear?
If heaven is where he is,
then hell is anywhere but here

If there is a God
And he's my Father
And he is so divine
Then why did I grow up so sick and sad and tired all the time?
Why would he instill doubts from Satan himself for everyone to see;
"You're inadequate
That's all you'll ever be"
My mistakes render me useless,
At least, that's what Father says of me

And if there is a God,
And he's my father
How could he walk away as if nothing ever happened, although I have seen it all before
Because what happens in this House of Heaven stays behind closed doors
He would enter his bedroom, and leave the door open just a crack
So when he would read his Bible and show us how a true Christian should act
I'd turn to my little brother and say "I wish one day we'd be holy like that".

The mortar in my walls are breaking and the water is rushing in
I wish so badly to repair it, but I've always been like this
The dirt I fell in twenty years ago is matted to my skin
The cuts on my soul since childhood are all I've ever been
I'm sorry Father, for I have sinned
And I have nothing good to show
And I don't mean to point the blame, Father, but sin is all I've ever known

If there is a God, would he let me stand before his throne?
Would he take me into his arms and treat me as his own?
Would he wash my ***** shirt and let me stand where the saints have stood?
Would he help me build a house upon the rocks
Like a father should?

I wonder if I can build it well enough to reach him
Because my current house can't as long as its this way
If there is a God
I wonder what he'd say
about me

I am the prodigal daughter you never learned about in stories
Kiara Malig Oct 2018
I keep forgetting that I am me.
That I am ‘Kiara’,
Smart and immature and competitive and deeply flawed and conceited and shallow.
With no actual purpose.
A being meant to only convey emotions ‘I’ would.
I keep forgetting that I can’t be reckless,
I keep forgetting that I can’t be brave.
That I can’t just one day decide to snap and break no matter how much I want to,
So I sink.

I think of it as a dream, one I cannot escape,
And do not want to escape at the same time.
Pinching myself doesn’t make it any less of a dream,
But I keep doing it to comfort myself.
I keep forgetting that I am supposed to be me.

Sometimes, when my mind gets lost in the storm,
And the thoughtless sails have broken off,
I sit motionless, waiting for the next command,
except I am wearing the captain’s clothes,
Yet I command no one.
As if my body, my being is no act of resilience, instead, a vessel I am not allowed to control.
Here, I stand still. Here, I keep waiting.
A Henslo Dec 2017
When a poem comes alive
I might be like Pygmalion
Not sharing her with anyone
Gently adoring her all my life

Yet, relieved from her laces
Doesn't a poem's magic lie
In that through the reader's eye
She may reveal her many faces?

So I charily hand her over
To the public domain
As however much I love her

It would be a thoughtless sin
Not letting you discover
What I never did put in
AH 2017
Pagan Paul May 28
Light hits my retina
through the prism of a tear,
distorted faces pass
with images fragmented
inside out
and the smell of tallow
as a candle splutters,
falters and winks out
for the wick collapses cruel
like a hamstrung dancer.
The tear exits stage left
and rolls down the wings
of a thoughtless cheek,
teeters on the brink of catastrophe
and falls upon a blank page,
reviewing its brief life
as a lazy metaphor,
so I look at the remaining solitary candle
and grieve for the lost tear,
as an understudy takes its place.

© Pagan Paul (28/05/19)
5th entry in Fool's Diary.
chaffy Mar 22
I woke up with the sun in my eyes.
Then fell back asleep, too comfortable in my dreams.
Something about spending the night with you.
Again I awoke, this time panicking for I realized I was late.
That ******* alarm had been sleeping too.
I neglected my routines and left my four cornered room, practically falling down the stairs.
Punctuality is a human invention, I thought, don't they know it's unhealthy to always be in a rush?

Time has been accelerating as of late, it must be.
It feels like just yesterday I was working alongside my colleagues, paving away for our futures, healing a prosperous community of lovers and friends, finding true happiness.
But that was over two weeks ago, and again I feel like it was all just a dream.
Sitting here consuming microwavable meals as I hammer incessantly away at my keys hoping to find myself, what a vicious cycle.

Calm down, one goal at a time.
No time is wasted as long as it's spent living.

Something about today, something about this hideous weather and my failure to get out of bed, the guilt, the anger, the fear, all of it.
Somehow I knew that it was going to end with me gripping the side of a toilet seat, spewing my insides out, trying not to pass out as the cacophonous ringing I once described dazes and confuses my thoughtless mind.

Memory by memory...

Poetry, what an idea.
I really hate this. I don't think it's a good poem. I don't know how it recieved so many views either. I unlisted it out of distaste shortly after posting it, something I never do. Well here, it's back in all its glory. I'm not going to touch it again, just know I've removed myself from this mess.
It was in the spring,
season of new birth
that I first saw you,
weeping in a stand of
wonder that you had

You seemed then
as a grass, tall as all
the rest yet distinct,
caught in a wind,
and the scent
of blossoms.
You danced, and your
music wound its
way to the sky
and brought
the birds.

As the dawn through
a roof of young leaves
your coming woke me,
and showed me a world
of such beauty that
I felt alive, in a way
I had almost forgotten.

You were the dawn,
and the breeze in
Springtime; you were
wild and you were calm,
carefree and sorrowful,
heartless and compassionate,
thoughtless and full of
knowings. In my ignorance
you were a discord,
a tumble of notes that
proved beautiful,
despite itself. In my
ignorance you were a
wonder. In my knowledge
you are a miracle,
far beyond the reasons
of your being.

You asked if I would
remember you, and in
my heart I laughed as
well as wept. For how
could I not? To ask if I
would forget you, who
had brought such fervor
to my life; such joy.

It was beyond foolishness.

If I weep, forgive me,
for I could wish for
nothing more than to
make you smile; it is
this love in my heart
that does not permit it.

In love I say,
I will remember.
I will remember.
I will remember.
In love.

Kara Jean Jul 2016
Saying goodbye would break my pride
A heart steaming  
You left me selfless and bleeding
Butterflies still take flight
My mind cries

Keep me lost and kissing tonight

The rose bushes hide are thoughtless rights
The moon ignites
The crickets sing with the world never ending,
"You are mine"

All I ask is you keep me lost and kissing tonight

My tank top snug tight, made your heart Rush
The way you whispered my name made my knees wobbly
We were young but it meant something

Keep me lost and kissing tonight

We are free
You and me
Naked from the world's hating
Simple innocence surrendering

All I ask is you keep me lost and kissing tonight

Brave enough to say this is our everything
A reality created from our everlasting insanity
Your hands, hips and love always thrusting

Please just keep me lost and kissing tonight
Written for my amazing husband
Kara Jean Feb 2018
I am thoughtless speech
I am a reckless belief
I see beneath
The dead installed
controlled with no advance
I am doubt
My heart is in need
I am consumption left empty
I am free inhabited by fear
I am nothing
I am in everything
I am the more to my ego
Jacob Ciciora Jul 2018
Alone again.
At last.
Eyes of strangers gaze,
Worriful of the odd
Young man who eats
And drinks alone.
Never does the young man
Speak, accept to order drink.
What goes through his head
Need not concern them.
For his mind only takes input
At times such as these.
Times when he may watch,
Learn from others, of how...
How to act in their presents.
How others react in one another's.
He yearns to know how...
How to describe it.
The thoughtless observer's
Only wish
Is to make reality into ink
And then change it back again.
World was different in my sensible planet.
Imagined things, that I had never done yet
Cells of my thoughtless mind,
Took another direction to reach the destination.
Scrambled up everything with satisfaction.

Money is the need, helped them to think darker and deeper.
Losing weight and making them sharper to climb up the ladder.
So many losers were ahead,
I was one of them, once who wanted to fly;
But leaving dreams away, living in a world of lie.

Now I'm the thirsty monster moving ahead to that crown.
Storm and thunder helped my arms and ammunition to drown.
Clearing up the ladder now,
I have to run for the next period of madness.
Where I need to be the beast, full of suspense

One day that man behind me will reach here soon.
That will be the last night when I can see the ***** face of the moon.
Achievements have flown away,
Carried treasures along and asked me to leave.
Time is near when I have to sleep in the wooden grave.

Another monster is coming towards me with lots of desire
But I'll not run away this time that I had done all these years.
Bright sun is waiting for me,
Happiness of my cells and organs is going to end.
Every brick will fall down by making every visions bend.

Still I didn't run yet to those things what I wanted.
The time has come to grab the happiness, I had never attended.
Foolish people! Live with fools.
I'm going out of reach, leaving sadness for you all.
To live in my desired world, without any wall.
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