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Frankie Gestone Mar 2013
He woke up in a rapid sweat, darkness surrounding him, his soaked pillow was pressing up on his neck as he could feel the uncomfortable stabbing cold run right threw his whole body. His mouth was dry and his body was in great pain. He lay there practically naked, but not just physically, also emotionally. It was like a catatonic state where the person’s body is paused in reality, but the actual person is far away and isolated even from himself. He wondered why he was so comfortable being uncomfortable and remaining frozen in time.  He saw nothing but the subtle moonlight that peaked through the blinds of his window. A point of existence, he feels nothing because all he has ever felt has drowned him. His numbness was being accepted and he embraced that if he remained this way, he would never have to feel hurt or heartbreak again. It’s better this way, he confirmed.

Eventually he got up out of his bed, walked outside to a nearby empty field. He looked up at the infinite night sky and contemplated the moon, the stars, and the endless space that sustained all of its existence. A tear fell down his cheek as he remembered the beautiful wonder of life and the universe; his realization that he is just a small spec of dust compared to all that is and all that is wonderful. Whatever happened to that universal happiness he used to feel? The feelings of the unseen, the cosmos, the mysteries that remain unsolved were all love. He then felt ancient and brand new at the same time-always being around all that is, but recently born into the unknown. The silence of the night swarmed him, and he suddenly embraced all the things he could not accept. The lullaby of the wind put him to sleep.

When he awoke, it was twilight. The sky was a lighter, deep blue and the sun in the far distance was rising in a fiery halo of mixed red, orange, and yellow colors, and the early morning clouds were clear and transparent. He heard the sound of a train horn in the far distance. He followed the sound with his ears as the sound became slightly louder and louder. Then, suddenly he could see the light of the early morning train.

The train had stopped as he approached it, and he hopped on with no hesitation or looking back. This runaway train was going to take him to where he needs to be, and he blindly and faithfully accepted that his fate was out of his hands now. No more heartbreak, no more reminders of the past, and most importantly no more drowning in his tears. As the train proceeded to move forward, he could feel fresh air gently touch his face, and all that he saw and ever knew were now flashing lights disappearing into eternity.

It was hours into the late morning when the train made its first stop. He listened to the train conductor speak out over the intercom, almost incoherently, say, “This is Brightstone Park. Next stop will be Riverhead.” A nostalgic feeling suddenly came over him as he could remember that his very first kiss was in Brightstone Park with Jessica Garzi. That was not his first true love, but his very first heartbreak. Riverhead was a forbidden memory, as he knew a classmate who had committed suicide off the Riverhead Bridge. He had not returned there in five years because of his haunting memories that would always come back to remind him just how cold and frightening the world really is.

While lost in thought, he felt a rough, sand paper-like wet feeling on his forearm. He looked down and it was a black cat, but not all black. The paws were all white like socks, and the chest and stomach were snow white. The loud prominent purr was a very peculiar reminder of a cat he once owned. Her name was Midnight. She was not the friendliest cat to strangers, but she loved him, especially when he massaged her paws. This cat was practically identical to Midnight. Midnight was put down three years ago though. As he began petting the cat’s back, it ran away and jumped off the moving train. He looked out in a hurry, but it was gone. It was just like everything else he loved. There for one moment, then gone the next. The strange thought that has one wondering if anything had actually existed that is now no more. A person, or a thing, could mean everything to you, but once they slip away, they become like the wind: occasionally brushing up against you, but never revealing its form.

On the train he began to wonder how he got where he was, and in general how the smallest decisions he made lead to bigger events and all in all, everything was all connected. There are no isolated events, or isolated people- it is all proven fact and science. Everything depends on each other to survive. The trees depend on the sun to keep themselves alive; we give off carbon dioxide to the trees and in return, we receive the oxygen we need from the leaves of the trees. He thought about the potential of a seed-for example, a tomato seed. Within that tiny seed is unlimited potential of life: The seed may produce one plant of several tomatoes, and within all those tomatoes are countless other seeds. This is all from one seed. Then, one may take a couple of seeds from a picked tomato and plant them throughout the yard creating a garden. That original seed came from another tomato seed inside a tomato on a plant, and that seed came from another seed. When did this cycle of reproduction begin and when does it end? Is it just another form of the infinite? When a person eats a tomato from that original seed, he receives certain essential vitamins his body needs for surviving and sustaining good health. This good health will effect his offspring and so on and so on. When he defecates, that will all return to the earth for potential fertilizer used for other tomato seeds. This is the same when he returns to the earth again. His dust will fertilize the same world that he came from, for all things come from it just to inevitably return to it.

He continued to think about how matter is never created nor destroyed and the same for energy. Nothing ever truly dies; the form changes into something new, like how water becomes a cloud and the cloud becomes water. Though this comforted him, he noticed that a few feet away from him was a former coworker and friend, Natasha Karev. She always infatuated him and they became close friends, but he always wished it had continued and gone even further than it did. One night, only a couple of years ago, they were at a friend’s party. Both were drinking, but not so heavily. That night they bonded and got so close, that she admitted she loved him. He was never quite sure how real that “I love you” was, but it was burned inside his heart ever since. That night there were moments she would tell him how much she wanted to make love to another guy at the party, Kevin, but was afraid to approach him. She told him she desperately wanted to lose her virginity that night to somebody because she was eighteen and only getting older. This was like a sharp knife slowly penetrating into his heart. He remained speechless for quite a few minutes. Finally he decided to go up in a bedroom alone. To his surprise, she followed him up and kissed him. He felt her clothed body up and down, and she touched areas not many have touched before. She told him she wanted to have *** and that she wanted him to rob her of her virginity. He was speechless, but extremely excited. Then, abruptly, she told him she could not because everything was happening way too soon. Why couldn’t she just make up her mind? He sat frustrated in the darkness, again, all alone. After that night, they spoke and remained close, yet that night was never mentioned again. It was as if it had never happened. After about two years of an on and off friendship, they just went their own ways. There were no fights or disagreements. Life just separated them.

“You’re just a figment inside somebody’s dream. So far from reality, you are a dream within a dream within a dream.” Startled by this soft voice, he quickly turned around to see Natasha smiling at him. “Ha-ha! I knew I could scare you. Were you abused as a kid, or something?” No words could come out at that moment, but he hugged her tightly. She explained to him that she is getting off at the next stop to meet a friend. He was sure he wanted to follow her and see where life would take him. She reminisced and told him how she had been away inside her own cave for several months, but is now very happy to meet up with everyone she had lost contact with.

The next stop arrived, but he did not catch the name of the stop he was getting off. As he got off with several others, both he and Natasha met up with her friend, Valeria, who he found quite cute. She resembled Natasha a bit in that they both had ***** blonde hair and blue eyes. They walked right into a giant street fair with a crowd of people looking at the foods and desserts, the trendy clothes, cheap jewelry, and children play rides.

As he looked around, he began seeing many familiar faces. He saw Kevin, a childhood and grammar school mate there with another co-worker of his, Jenny. Jenny was a Colombian beauty in his eyes and who was a flirt and tease to him, but never actually gave him any time alone. Incidentally, he knew both of them at different times in his life and had no idea they knew of each other. Kevin stopped contacting him during high school without any arguments or disloyalties that would tear a friendship apart. Keeping his head down, he walked a few feet to discover another childhood best friend, Jack, who was with a mutual childhood friend, Melanie. Melanie was a best friend of his and also a first childhood crush who also had a crush on him. He thought it was odd because even though Melanie and Jack were also best friends, Melanie never liked Jack in a special boy/girl way. He felt a moment of heartbreak, but quickly turned away and kept walking. A little further up the road, he saw two more childhood friends, Chris and Jimmy, who as children did not get along that well and only hung out with each other in the company of him. How peculiar it was suddenly seeing them together after ten years, and as seemingly best of friends.

That was not all. Things were getting stranger and stranger. It was like all the people who had made an imprint on his life were now coming together around him. He saw his two therapists, one he had gone to as a teenager and the other as a young adult, stand next to each other selling prescription drug samples. Both stared at him with a blank face, but with a prominent smile. He could barely nod at them. Natasha directed them to a local bar. Inside the bar was huge and also had a second floor. He noticed the music playing in the background was, Nocturne In E Flat Major, Op.9 No.2, by Polish born Romantic composer, Frederic Chopin. He became fixated on the elegant eighth note, left hand arpeggios, and the sweet and peaceful fast moving seven, eleven, twenty, and twenty-two notes from the right hand. If he thought about the most beautiful song ever written and all that is wonderful in one, this was the song.

They all took a seat and began looking at people and laughing at their behavior. Everyone was wearing masks. Social masks. They observed how different people act when they are in social gatherings, and how if you carefully study their body language, it will become clear that what they are saying and trying to put out is not what is actually being expressed through the body. One young man was frantically shaking his right leg as he tried to flirt confidently with a young woman he had just recently met. His face began to turn noticeably red, in an embarrassed flush, and he was making sudden hand gestures and quick eye blinking. She, on the other hand, pretended to be interested in what he was saying; yet her eyes would often look around the room and her body was a good distance from him with her arms folded.

Then as they were all laughing, he abruptly stopped and looked ahead to see two drunken women making out two tables away from them. As his eyes focused in on them, he realized they were two of his former crushes, Claire and Veronica, who he had no idea knew of each other because in fact, they were from different time periods of his life. He began seeing former teachers and professors from each stage of his school career, laughing hysterically with one another. Some of his most inspiring teachers and professors were gathered with other teachers and professors he despised. A young, tattooed hipster woman entered the scenery with a little Cairn Terrier that had an uncanny resemblance to his recently passed dog, Petey, who was put to sleep when he was away on a vacation, unexpectedly. His sorrow began to overwhelm him for not being able to say good-bye and see him for a proper last time. Everything about the dog’s high energy, playfulness, and watchdog attitude was exactly like Petey. A tear ran and fell off his cheek from his left eye right into the hand of Natasha. He looked up at her and she said, “Your tears are my tears. For what pain you withhold, I take and share with you.” She then wiped her right eye with the hand that held his tear. Natasha’s friend began to speak slowly into his left ear in Russian. Though he could not understand a word she was saying, it sounded just like a poem based on the pattern and rhythm’s consistency. It made him feel free of melancholy, but then thought of Angela Antonaci entered his mind.

He thought that the last painful experience ended with the break up of his closest best friend ever to play a part in his life. She was his girlfriend for the last three and a half years. They had known each other for ten years before they broke up their entire relationship. She was thirteen and he was fifteen when they first met in a park. She was always all over him like a little schoolgirl and he would often get frustrated with her obsession over him, for he believed he was no big deal. She was the first person to ever make him feel special and important, and even though he would resent her likeness towards him, he could never keep his eyes off of her or stop himself from always coming to her when he felt lonely. After about seven years, he realized he was in love with her. He had always been in love with her from the first time they met eyes. His long road had always lead back to her home in life. Every time he tried forgetting her and moving on, they would meet again. That person people search their entire lives for, he had found.

He rose out of his seat and briefly said goodbye to Natasha and her friend and went upstairs. He wanted time to be alone and walk around until he suddenly saw Jessica walking towards him. He stopped and waited for her to say hello, but she walked right by him, as if he had never existed. He felt a little insulted, yet relieved as any awkwardness that would arise was avoided. Looking ahead, he saw Angela’s two best friends, Kate and Julie, with her high school crush, John. John was playing an acoustic guitar on a lounge chair, singing to the two friends, almost enticing them with his eyes and voice. His jealousy overcame him, as Angela had been infatuated with him on and off even though he had played with her feelings throughout high school and college. John would tell her he loved her and make her believe he was a romantic, then when she fell into his words, he would leave her and keep a distance for long periods of time, leaving her in despair.

The conclusion occurred to him that maybe she was nearby. He searched throughout the entire bar not finding any other clues that she was around. When he went downstairs, he saw Natasha and her friend asleep, as well as most of the bar, except for the bartender. It was like everyone just passed out from the alcohol or possibly inhaled some type of knockout drug. The bartender was watching the news forecast of a tornado watch and dangerous thunderstorms. The bartender looked at him and said, “It’s better if you stay in here. It’s dangerous out there. I recommend you don’t go out!” He just listened, but decided to leave to the outside anyway.

He walked three blocks through the heavy rain and strong winds. He took a moment to stop and look at the black and gray clouds above him. As he looked across the street, he saw her. She was with her mother, sister, and mutual friends of theirs, Chrystal and Mike. He also saw behind them, his own mother and sister. He ran across the street to her and she shockingly with excitement screamed, “Hey!!! Oh my God!! Please stay with us. I missed you so much. You have no idea. We have to get to a shelter away from this storm. Hold my hand…” Smiling, he kept walking with them. They walked for twenty minutes and entered a giant field. After ten minutes of walking restlessly through the field, they all stopped to catch their breath. Angela’s mom ordered everyone to hold one another’s hand. An enormous gust of wind pushed them all to the grassy ground. He began to shake violently as he felt the touch of death nearby. He wondered if this would be the end, as he felt unaccomplished and left with so much left unsaid to her. Thoughts raced through his mind like a speeding highway about how to get to safety. Unable to control and remain focused on one rational thought at a time, he blacked out for a minute.

Then there he was right in the middle of a storm. In so many ways, he realized where he was ending was where he originally began. All the imprints from all he ever knew came back all at once to watch him finally leave all he ever knew from this life. And in the last moments, he found himself with her. He held her hand, while she held his, and the hands of their family and friends. The world was so dark and cold. The wind became much more rapid and an enormous bright light from it came within just miles of them. He kept looking up at the dark black and gray clouds over them, never as frightened as he was now. His focus was on the great strength of the wind. Whatever melancholic thoughts he had of his life, he would not give up hope. Maybe he was just hopelessly hopeful, but holding each other tightly might, in some miraculous way, save them. Then suddenly a deep peace began to sustain his very being. He remembered whose hand he was holding- the only woman to ever understand every level of his being. He looked down at her big, precious eyes pouring out tears. Their eyes locked, as she had been watching him the entire time. No words needed to be said from one another. They knew exactly what they felt and meant. For the first time in his life, everything was all okay. All was beautiful. The whole situation was beautiful, not tragic. In that moment, he understood this was where he was meant to be. This was where he wanted to be, for only in such a life altering moment does one comprehend the very nature of love and life. To just glance into her eyes and see the same person staring back in suspense, while all he ever knew was being born, growing, and dying simultaneously in complete acceptance. They began to fade and disappeared into the light.
Dominique Arnold Mar 2014
The city of unaccomplished goals and dreams have many who sit and mope, some just procrastinate, while others tried but lost hope.

But there's one young man who wants to succeed so bad that it hurts. He's tired of falling and failing, and he's tired of the taste of dirt.

He wants the sweet taste of victory, but lemons are abundant here, but there is no sugar anywhere so lemonade is just bitter tears.

All the houses are made of card board and are blown down by the Big Bad Wolf. But the young man has no home, he walks and roams and it has made him strong and tough.

The Witch of the East in the morning she loves to disturb the city's peace. While the Witch of the West preferred the interruption of the city's rest.

So at night he goes to a secluded place and lays under the stars, and there he meets the man in the moon and they'd converse for hours. He'd tell stories of a cat and a fiddle, and a cow that could jump so high that even the dog would giggle.

He tells him of times that have come and gone, and of things he may never see, but the young man takes this all in awe cause the moon has his curiosity.

He tells the moon that one day he'll finally succeed, he'll have a family and everything and won't have a want or a need. And when he's old and meets with Death he'll have no fear in his heart, but he'll tell her about a theory he has that began his unexpected start.
larry Jun 2018
sadness overwhelms my heart rapidly slowly turning into madness, my visions getting blurry I can't see my goals they  are out of sight I opened up to something that doesn't exist,  my lungs are being twisted by something malicious this feeling is supiscious my ambitions are being torn right in front of me im trying to scream help me help I'm yelling but as I keep screaming I just keep sinking into a hole,  a hole that's filled with lost wishes and  dreams,  that teens can't fulfill because their feet are being tied down to a rock that sinks into unaccomplished dreams that's surrounded with nothing my coldness and remorse a feeling that can't be cured because its not something to forget .
Nature teaches us our tongue again
And the swift sentences came pat. I came
Into cool night rescued from rainy dawn.
And I seethed with language - Henry at
Harfleur and Agincourt came apt for war
In Ireland and the Middle East. Here was
The riddling and right tongue, the feeling words
Solid and dutiful. Aspiring hope
Met purpose in "advantages" and "He
That fights with me today shall be my brother."
Say this is patriotic, out of date.
But you are wrong. It never is too late

For nights of stars and feet that move to an
Iambic measure; all who clapped were linked,
The theatre is our treasury and too,
Our study, school-room, house where mercy is

Dispensed with justice. Shakespeare has the mood
And draws the music from the dullest heart.
This is our birthright, speeches for the dumb
And unaccomplished. Henry has the words
For grief and we learn how to tell of death
With dignity. "All was as cold" she said
"As any stone" and so, we who lacked scope
For big or little deaths, increase, grow up
To purposes and means to face events
Of cruelty, stupidity. I walked
Fast under stars. The Avon wandered on
"Tomorrow and tomorrow". Words aren't worn
Out in this place but can renew our tongue,
Flesh out our feeling, make us apt for life.
XXV

A heavy heart, Beloved, have I borne
From year to year until I saw thy face,
And sorrow after sorrow took the place
Of all those natural joys as lightly worn
As the stringed pearls, each lifted in its turn
By a beating heart at dance-time. Hopes apace
Were changed to long despairs, till God’s own grace
Could scarcely lift above the world forlorn
My heavy heart. Then thou didst bid me bring
And let it drop adown thy calmly great
Deep being! Fast it sinketh, as a thing
Which its own nature doth precipitate,
While thine doth close above it, mediating
Betwixt the stars and the unaccomplished fate.
To give up on a dream is thought to be cowardly
But is it not courageous to dismiss one's hopes in order to dream of something new
Is it not bolder to go where no one has been
Is it not more glorious to achieve that which would otherwise remain  unaccomplished
Are not dreams nothing more than opportunity
With new decisions facing us every moment
As simple as a choice or as complicated as conviction
Then would it not be remarkable to go against one's beliefs in order to reach the greatness waiting to be conceived
In a world forever changing, forever adapting
With days eternally numbered and opportunities nearly infinite
it would be easier to stick to the familiar
But life is like a simple child's game
If you have nothing to challenge you
What you are, what you're made of, and what you believe
Then it would be lacking of fun with no sense of victory
To choose the difficult path is to choose to live
To live a life of fulfillment, a life of glory
If your dreams ever seem too easy or too simple
Then I implore you, dream again
DSD Nov 2014
Sleep beckons.
I could close my eyes and call it a day.
Lie down and die – maybe dream
Of all that was unaccomplished.

But with dreams there comes no guarantee.
Compensation for dissatisfaction?
Rebuke for procrastination?
There might be none,
Or some that I might not even remember.

Life is meaningless.
We are but sparks: destined to fade away.
This isn't a game, there are no rules.
No prosecution for any infringement.

I choose to while away at a make believe game
With make believe rules.
But I play fair,
Lest I should be judged by me.

I granted myself the liberty
Imparting meaning to my existence.
Meticulously building a façade.
Filling the void that I was born into.

One reckless step and it might all collapse-
Life, rules, beliefs-
A heap of nothingness at square one.
This choice-
The liberator from the drudgery of existence-
Is the one that binds me.

So I force myself to stay awake
For a few more hours each night.
Trying to get the blocks in place.
Convincing myself that what lies ahead is all pleasure.

Will it be reward enough
For all that I have suffered and lost
At my own game?
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2015
~for Steve R. & Stephen Y.~

"two regrets are mine -
not finding you earlier in life when...words would have carved for me a better road, and...not hand-ing you a touch, the perfect tightness-shake of one's hand reserved for fondest friends and the light press on one's back deserved for dearest brothers!"
~~~

the light press surety of five fingers on one,
oh, what messages it composes, oh, what duty weighty it transmits

dear brothers:

tho this hands-on handoff, this fly-over, is still a  
mission unaccomplished,
yet no regrets, please!

men don't overuse superlatives,
what you lovingly uncover in my rocket-verbal Mars probes,
is more telling, more revealing of  who you are,
than any hand-tightness shake,
any touching grasp, could e'er convey

yet I promise, forsworn upon the cross
of the north west Pacifico latitude and longitude
a latitude that just happens to intersect
my olden, new english state,
knowing that Interstate 90
a straight transcontinental shot,
and the car keys just an impulse grab away

to tell your arms, your face, your back, our hands,
that when you love my poetry,
you love me,
you friends,
are an affirmation of  Pablo Neruda's words:

"whoever discovers who I am
discovers who you are"


fondness is not distance constrained,
touching grasps pay no obeisance to time,
the honor of your affection permanent
affirmed and enflamed,
all mine, sublime, to lead my heart,
where to lay hands upon your back,
to realize even more
our single united rhyme
November 7, 2015
4:50 pm
nyc/nl
Orion Schwalm Feb 2011
There are at least ten reasons why you are beautiful hidden in the seconds when you are awake and I am asleep.
Something really precious brought us together once or twice, I don’t know what it is, but I’m not gonna ask. …  …  …
I don’t know what I’m supposed to say when you say everything I feel.
There are at least ten universes worth of beautiful individuality in plain sight, in a hummingbirds flight path from one flower to another.

Here are the rhymes that reason:
You grew up faster than you knew, and you realized that a long time after everyone knew what it felt like to be grown up.
You were given something that not many people have so very early, it shaped you, and you were not sure after that, if it was the world that changed you or vice versa.
My fingers feel separate from my hands to write this. My voice, coming from somewhere else.
You really really really really really really really trust in love to make the right decision, and are terrified to make decisions without that input.
Love can happen with anyone anywhere at any time…but sometimes it only happens once at a time. The less scared you are of it, the easier it is to see in yourself.


Here are the reasons that rhyme:
Everyone changes with seasons
Everyone changes with time
As everyone changes around you
You feel like a stone in a fire
With no arms or legs to hold on with or run
And having done nothing, you’re feeling jaded, and so very tired.

And I believe you can make it on your own (with a little help from the angel on your devil’s shoulder, turning hell into just high water, spilling over a little too much chaos into your day, making your nights a little bit shorter)
And I can see you when you are who you used to be, in a simpler time.
Perception is hard to live with when its constantly being pushed at by people who have agreed to act enlightened because they’re scared of the difference and diversity they face every day they decide to go outside their lonely bedrooms.
Is that what its like to hate the world for giving you a choice?
Find me.

I want to be together with you like a hummingbird and a flower, the factor of time excluded. A moment could be forever, or not. If for just the happening we could live…we could be anything…whether or not we’re tired, or *****, or used, or unaccomplished.  Time doesn’t have to shape us if we can shape each other. Like ghosts in books in childrens’ minds, or a hummingbird and a flower, breathing life in deep breaths, together as one.

We could be like one reason

One reason why…

Why ten is just a number
Mallow Aug 2015
Monkeys staring at the eyeballs in our heads
The forced rope ties tighter and pops out the vein
The process takes a moment but no more than a feather being blown
Sun beams now highlight the velvet hour.

Sand castles keep the sand man guarded and safe
In return, we have another day swallowed by the unaccomplished.
Spirited with a medical remedy
Lovers say a happy goodnight to the days ahead.

String haired figurines on the walls form the decor in this doll house
The rooms sit back to back but remain mostly vacant.
She dances around the room and tries on the attire
Forming the platform for our intimate silent exchange.

The chair pulls down and gravity makes its move
Maps form plans to be affiliated with a higher member
But with refusal, we can sit and add wood to an internal stove
Write stories noticed by no-one living in elegant designed routine.

They say its madness that gets you in the end.

*I dont think I agree!
rsc Oct 2014
I'm gonna be
Ebola for Halloween,
Watch out *******.
Burning my popcorn is
The reason I have trust issues.
Being dressed in theme
Quadruples your chance of getting laid.
Nothing makes me feel manlier.
I feel so unaccomplished in life.
Is anyone else afraid of
Ending up alone?
Every other night
I question my choice of major,
If I will be able to get a job.
I have to be successful because
I love expensive ****.
When life gives you lemons
You paint that **** gold.
If you're trying to find
A ******* Tinder...
Tinder is pointless.
Virginity drinking game.
Boys in a tent who are waiting,
Can I come in?
Having fun isn't hard when
You've got a library card.
To whoever left a flower on my bike last night,
Reveal yourself so I can
Give you the biggest hug.
That made my day.
I made this out of a bunch of posted "Yaks" on the app Yik Yak from my university.
Dear dad, so enthusiastic with a lot of dreams,
I, your unworthy son, is here with a request,
You wouldn't understand I know for sure,
You really think you know for me what's best.

I have a tiny question,
Why do you force your unaccomplished dreams on us, your children,
And when we try to race our dreams what do you tell us to do?
Simple as this, just **** 'em.

I try hard to be the perfect child among the millions in this world ,
We both know every one has some cons,
Yet I work pretty hard to be a rose among the rest of them who are like leaves,
Yet you only see my thorns.

Why are you so pessimistic dad when I get my grades and come home,
Why don't you see the positivity in what I've done well in and not get wild?
All I get is a bashing and an assignment,
Common perks of being a 21st century middle-class Indian family child.

And yes dad I am gonna write JEE and NEET and get in a college which you want me to,
And probably also get a masters where you want me to so a good salary companies can give,
But when I'm finally independent to make my decisions I'll have no life left to live.

And if I'm gonna marry the one you've decided for me,
That meant you've decided my entire life I've got ahead,
I'll probably start to love her after sometime,
Yet I'll remember you for all the wrong reasons each time I lie I bed.

And whatever you've done to me dad I do know it's with a good intention,
I don't have a grudge on you because I do understand,
There's a saying "the biggest problems started with the best of intentions. "
Knowing that your still there will still give me a helping hand.

You've given me a lot of values dad,
And these values in me will forever strive,
Please don't get me wrong with what I've just portrayed.
P.S - I love you dad and will always do until I'm alive.
Everyone has that one special man in their lives, their dad, who does everything for the better of them. Yet criticised by many because fathers usually do not know what the child goes through. Learn to love your dad whatever the situation is!
Jeanette Oct 2011
While browsing through one of your fancy medical magazines
I read an article that stated that
most of us will die due to a heart related issue.

You tried to grab the magazine out of my hand
before I turned this into discussion on existentialism.
(too late)

"Ha!" I couldn't help but laugh...

"The mind is the real killer,
we all know that!" I exclaimed.

"The rejections, the let downs,
the mistakes, the loses, our own self esteem,
our unaccomplished dreams,
replaying over and over and over and over in our heads;
eating away at our sanity.
Now that's what gets us."

You sighed dramatically as I continued to ramble on...

"In fact you're lucky if your heart dies out before your mind does;
But If you're like most you'll live life like a zombie
with a heart that beats like a champion."

At this point your eyes had already glossed over, you were probably thinking about ice cream or the weather but I carried on...

"We think therefor we are.
In our miserable little thoughts we will find both our lives and our deaths."

You stood up and headed for the kitchen to serve yourself a giant bowl of ice cream.
I knew you were thinking about ice cream the whole time.
Sasha Ranganath Nov 2014
Brushing through mindless white specks.
Soaring between jagged decks.

Pudgy trembling little pillows.
We've left the lithosphere down below.
Wishing I could run my hands through these marshmallows
Like I ran my fingers through his deep brown hair.

Swiveling, shriveling, ascending
I breathe the sharp cabin air in.

Layers and layers of cottony mounds
Can I just spoon them on to my lips now
The way his caressed my pout?
I'm so unaware.

As the messy streaks became distant,
The déjà vu in pattern had me stunned.

Illegible madness at the very bottom,
Transforming into something more figurative going above.
Like I was lost and consumed to begin with
But graduated to understanding love.

I smile wide from ear to ear; we may have lost chemistry,
But in every walk of life, our sparks will remain an untold story.

Pounding in my head were the gunshots,
And in my heart were the bullet wounds.
Yet I survived, and now I'm happy.
Courage does soothe.

I have one wish and one wish only,
To hug him tight, even if it lasts a second slowly.

He was my world, my universe.
But I've let him go and I've realized
That the universe is out there
And he's only a pair of bright eyes.

Yes we had plans, yes we had dreams.
But dreams can be ruined and plans- unaccomplished.

New plans can be figured
New dreams can be birthed.
A journey can be restarted
And a heart can be returned.

A little turbulence does come along,
A little silence can do wrong.

Much like this journey I'm on,
An expedition to learn the wonders unknown,
To hear the beat drop
And feel my heart throb.

And now I see a seamless sheet of white
Soft, silken, yet unevenly bright.

Distant cities- visible from high above,
Blocking out the push and shove.
Though I'm 20000 feet in the air,
I can still feel the love.

I feel the energy that lies underneath,
I feel the smile of a little child standing beneath.

And suddenly the unevenness disappears,
The sunlight blazes in here.
Should I pull down the blind?
Or should I let the light blind?

(And there goes my pattern of rhyme)

Funny how the same word can mean two different things.
Comical how most of us don't make any sense.

We don't fight a mystery,
We are the mystery.
We don't feel alive,
We are alive.

And the pilot makes a sharp turn
For a moment I'm uncertain.

It's like when you're so involved in something,
And you lose control, slipping and crashing,
But you get up, dust yourself,
And carry on walking.

I feel like I could go on forever with this poem,
But life won't go on anywhere close to forever.

You live everyday, even when you feel broken.
You breathe in the air, even when you feel suffocated.
You try to understand the patterns,
But you won't have all the time, because death comes once- and it's permanent.

Face it with courage,
Face it with pride.
Feel the moment,
Watch the wonders of the sky.
I am who I'm not
I was who I ain't
everything about me is fake
the multifaceted facade
I'm everything
you think I'm not
i'm life imitating art
since arts imitating life
I'm everything that I write
which is a hoax
a laughable out loud joke dilettante
unaccomplished a novice garbage nonsensical nonsense
Product of my surroundings
Victim to my environment
A sum of the world
so can't take it to heart
where do I start?
Oh life imitating art
Since arts imitating life
I'm everything that I write
Which is a hoax
Just as the world
broke
May I lay to rest
While I still might be missed,
And my unaccomplished dreams
May be spoken of,
Not my successful mediocrities
Forgotten--
When my potential may
Be actualized in the
Generous imagination of
Those who mourn
Instead of my living disappointment
Realized in old age,
When none of this amounts
To anything more than
The life of a person
Served better by early death
Of breath
Than by early death
Of spirit.
Ethan Robison Sep 2011
When I look in the mirror I see a failure.
When I look down I see unaccomplished feet and unskilled hands.
I have mentally collected every synonym for  disappointment,
Loser, loafer, underachiever.
The worst part is others see it too.
Warren Gossett Sep 2011
He feels the terrible urgency of aging,
a foreboding, a sense of something
left unaccomplished
which constantly
claws at his thoughts when he should be
enjoying what life he has left.
It's a cautioning
that the time allotted him to find
an answer, to seek fulfillment,
is escaping him.
What has he done with
his life to merit existence on this orb,
to warrant another sunrise,
another soft rainfall?
Such questions go without answer.

--
jigyasa Aug 2016
i've been ignoring it
stress seeping
in trembling airways
effects of cortisol

i've been ignoring it
subtle shaking of breath
once constant, once confident

i've been hiding
from a heart hurt
unaccomplished goals became looming dreams again

but like Rome I will pick myself up
I will piece myself together
from resilient rubble
and a blank blueprint
become a beautiful mosaic

Now is the time.
Because I've been ignoring it.
Ignoring it all too long now.
Panama Rose Apr 2013
Free love is unaccomplished by humanity
dismal
strangers to the union of everything in its completion
capable of congratulating eachother for our beauty
our success of being alive
giving the inspiration to make ourselves thrive
survive


we crave the eyes, the arms of a cleansed spirit
to grasp us tightly
studying our similarities
there are so ******* many of us
dying to hug one another
sensing eachothers sadness
drinking our soul away due to the madness
of it all

it all
the world and its biggest mistakes
taking away the ultimate freedoms
replacing them with work
hard earned money
selfishness
ignorance
replacing the freedom with lies

and we know we are being manipulated
but we do not do a ******* thing about it
I always wonder why this is

Fear
let it be clear to us all
that we are being treated unfairly
as if we are dirt
being brushed away from the shoes
of the ones who keep us shackled


the ones who are unblemished
consoled by ultimate security

let us know one another
let us feel eachothers minds
let us express our love
let us disregard our hate
let us be free
let us be ******* free

we are beautiful
we are equal
only nature owns us
only nature loves us

the authorities have rabies
that are destroying their logic

we are rising with intelligence and awareness of this

I only wish to comfort those who feel they are alone
I am here to protect the sacredness of unity

we are not alone
we are not alone
Ray Feb 2012
I fall to the ground and sip back the poison
Whimpering while the voices scream at me
"You're worthless, you're fat,
you *****, you *******
you're trapped, stuck here with them
you'll never leave your missery,
the years will pass and so will your life
your meaningless life filled with
unaccomplished dreams and failed promises"
I collapse in a pathetic heap
admitting my defeat to them
taking one last sip
as I reach for the gun to shut them up
once and for all

It was during a month:
the September dawn
My attention was entirely being drawn
The neck of a desert donkey is strained
After pulling the strong cart remained
Along the sand dunes of the desert land
Carrying the debris of soldiers   beyond;
their dead bodies dried by many days
and unable to  wrap in any  other ways,
their last requests dying  unaccomplished.
It was during a month:
The December dusk,
My thought was entirely on the mask
the clouds were made of ashes and rain;
the earth pregnant with its body pain
Is war bringing us any further gain
*
By Williamsji Maveli
From the Anthology of lyrics, both in English & Malayalam ( bilingual, translated by the author) and titled as
"Ma Salama….......", (Arabic word which means “With peace...”) written
by Williams George Maveli. ( Williamsji Maveli )
Email: williamsji@yahoo.com
Web site:www.moonmakers.com
Jaee Derbéssy Aug 2014
There was just something
so deeply enamoring,
that you could not only
see it in her existence,
but you can
feel it in her eyes
as well.
That it did not matter
what anyone
thought,
said,
or believed about them.
That all that it only mattered
was what they had-
and that was love.
There were no need
for words,
they understood each other
fluently with just one look.
And with just one look,
serenity soothed their
soul, mind, and heart.
But he-
he only saw her for how
she truly was:
Glorious, radiant, spectacular,
and absolutely perfect

because his perception
of women did not limited
his sight.
He, as a man,
understood quite well
that he had the
responsibility and duty
to assure his woman,
to make her feel,
to make her sense,
that he was not just
captivated,
but intrigued,
in her.
That he was in search
for the depth
of her inner beauty
to the point that it
overwhelmed
all her flaws,
her insecurities,
her fears,
and spark this
wild passion
within her
to want to give her
entire devotion to him.
That she could release
her mind, body and soul.
Entregarse ella misma
so passionately,
so eternally,
to just him and only him.
That she could release
all that beauty that she kept
hidden away.
To finally let someone love
her just for the way she is-
as flawed as she was,
as unattractive as she
sometimes felt,
and as unaccomplished
as she thought she was.
To believe that she had to hide
all the parts
of her that were broken,
out of fear
that someone else was
incapable of loving
what was less than perfect.
How two minds became
infixed with raw love
and tender affection.
Believing that the body
if his woman
was what God promised-
Paradise.
How it should be touched,
how it should be explored
with a rose;
his love.
Caressing her flesh
as though the rose itself
were the wing
of an angel.
He understood
how his woman
should be touched.
Tell me what you think :)
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2022
Last Best Shot

July 31, 2020
8:07am

the morning sunlight. high enough to lighten first café & the future.
warming, mellifluous, biding good tidings, a head, ahead for the day.
sun-in-sky-low, so trees stand taller, shadow-makers, just for now.
grass blotched, pockmarked, alternative hints of hope & mystery.
the bay wave waters stilled, unrolled, unroiled, no-thrashing, omen?
is this wellness? is this a green tea soul and soil infusion, calming?


my mind wanders to that remains unaccompanied, unaccomplished.
unwashed breakfast dishes, miles of mail urgently unattended.
poems half-composed, some decomposing, resurrection on the list?
these unwashed word-shards, cry out, if not today, then when?
passerby’s, yachts, kayaks pause, turn, all bow-me-pointing asking?
is today their finale, burial by deletion, or their
last, best shot?

my reflection, neutral-neutered mien in 19oz. Blue Mountain
black coffee, in a Canadian Macintosh porcelain mug, provides
no clue, accident or incident, but inquires: why the adrenaline?
Joseph Childress Sep 2010
I take pride
In jeopardizing my life
Unlike monopoly
I have one die
In life
At a time
I
The lucky spender
Received a splendid surprise
The sublime arrived
Just in time
On the night
Before destruction

Yes,
There is a bit friction
In this business
Non-fictional character
Rises in the author
I wrote
The book of the dead
And spread knowledge
On earth’s bed

Now,
I’m denied credit
For risks taken
Instead of a praise
Appraised
For my edgy ways
And found
Guilty of pleasure

I’m
In debt
With the angels
Who lent me
The soul makings
And sent me
On a mission
Which remains
Unaccomplished
In their vision

I am
Sole proprietor
In this business
I have no relations
Trust none
My inquisition
Seems superstitious
When you unravel
My unreal supposition
But suppose
For a minute
That you were in
The opposed position
And posed
With the mind of a menace
Who, sadly,
Never stepped
In the shoes of sanity

Society views your life
As a stain
On earth’s plain
Though, your pain
Seems self-sustained
You were born
Insane
Would be better off
If offered removal
But awful is often
Sought
In the eyes
Of vile beholders

The unnamed soldier
Is the truest
Of them all
Marching down
The broken road
To destiny

The
Know-it-alls
Know nothing
At all
Love stories are not meant to be lived
you know that from the deleted faces
and vanished traces
of the ones once most valuable to you.


I don't get you I said
don't I feel a regret
for the women i loved
but was never able to live with

don't they still haunt me
?

Regret is not the word
the man was adamant,
it's more a mourning for your failure
a tormenting reminder of an undefined deficiency
that you were not up to them
or in the wrath of missing the target
they were not up to you

and then he fired the killing shot

what you remember is not the love
years have wiped out the details
leaving you with the embers of unaccomplished missions
which in the first place
you didn't deserve to be a part of
.

I hated his departing words.

True love lives in the stories
and love stories are not meant to be lived.
PJ Poesy Nov 2015
Reminiscences of our future
Things to be, perhaps nostalgically
Who is wishing star's shooter?
Presently mind altering pendantically
Subconsciously forever no honesty

Someplace we never were together
Vicariously our algorithms meet
And I in my mind, with you forever
Though self-hypnosis not complete
Perpetuum delirium I greet

Infinitely brief occurrences
How we do so, what's not sought
Repress outer conscious past tenses
Hidden innermost thought
To table, it is never brought

Who could know the unaccomplished?
You and I, sheer mystery
If it weren't, I so astonished
And you and your word artillery
Slight chance we could change this
history?
Nashira Oben Jan 2019
How to make a salad in a bathroom
Is like asking how low can one go
Why is this knowledge needed
When is it necessary
It is beyond me
How to make a salad in a bathroom
For whatever reason I shall answer
Salad is what you need first
Wrinkly as you in 50 years
Cut it with your razor-sharp mind
Like when you dissect your thoughts
and let them bleed
Until your mind is flooded
Add cherry tomatoes
The ones that match your brain, and your face
When you talk to someone you like
Next, onion, with its endless layers
Like the paint on the walls
Or people's personality when they encounter newness
Cucumber as cool as the toilet seat you're occupying
Thinking it as normal, in an Andy Warhol essay
Sweet Corn, sweet as the stain of soda on the floor
Sweet Corn the size of the bugs roaming in the corner
Add a little insanity
A pinch of self-pity
A teaspoon of unaccomplished goals
How to make a salad in a bathroom
Is the answer the one you sought?
Ryan Nyberg Jul 2014
i hate to deal with this and that s my curse
a spell that someone s put on my poor heart
right now and for a long time i felt nothing worse
could come.
i see the autumn leaves whirl in the air
some raise higher and higher
and some fall desperately,
touching the ground they flare.
the world around gets duller every day,
it s flooded with hope’s tears
and unaccomplished dares.
the sky is grey the thoughts are dark and thin
i want to walk until my legs give in.
i want to fight until i feel no more
but in the end i know
it s you i ve suffered for.
you re worth every teardrop
that i cry
every smile that i force and smoky heavy sighs.
Sienna Luna Apr 2016
Defecated, or did I say defeated
fated to live this life
barren as loose shoe strings
fraying a little at the ends.
Like a torn T-shirt
I am covered in holes and stains
splotches that just don’t
seem to go away.
Defeated in the mere inches I take
or the hearts that I break

but the only heart I break is my own.
How to pick up the pieces
when I am
piece-less
peaceless, no peace here.
So all I do is clench and worry
and hope that one day defeat
might become a feat
that can actually go somewhere
move someplace out of reach
as I seem to speak
of dreams unaccomplished and maimed
of dreams inferred striking infrared filters
that whisper mere fragments
of my name.
tessa bear Feb 2010
anger tightens, and swells
thickening, coating the walls of her
heart
for she can't see anymore
in this darkened state of reveal;
feeling sorry for herself,
and feeling unaccomplished,
but, doesn't she feel that everyday?
so what could she be talking about.
only this pale memory of you,
will keep her,
keep her in the hands of warmth,
care smoothed beneath her.
---that is all she has to say.
Star BG Dec 2017
where dreams vanish
in minds unaccomplished by many.
And echoing
ghost of ego drowns me out
in breath,
I move with sword in hand.
I step with determination.
I dance with rythems of heart.
I speak in love vibrations.

At a time where I control future
with thoughts dreams blossom,
and freedom is mine.
Just playing in my playground of words.
PairedCastle Aug 2017
I want to meet the world
Travel it without holding bars
I want to be free of fear
Walk without worrying of a single tear

I want to be in places I've never been
For once, I want to think that I can win
I want to get rid of my sense of responsibility
To just be out there embracing uncertainty

I know that life should be fun
and I feel depressed and tired, sometimes
Caressed by anxiety
I guess, it's my destiny

I feel so old but unaccomplished
I feel so tired for everything in my life feels unfinished
I feel cold and lonely
Those two things that are clear in my destiny

I, sometimes, want to be someone else
Just to get rid of the routinary
I wish to feel nothing
I hope to have something else that is soothing

What else do I need to do?
What else is there for me?
Many things I want to do
Always hindered by so many dues

I want to go outside
Meet new people
Be in places where no one knows me
Just, maybe, for once, I could be me

I want to be playful
I want to be free
I want to be out of responsibilities
Life is tiring, and the world is domineering

What do I need to do to fulfill it?
I feel nothing, but loneliness.
When was the last time I felt happy?
My life has been nothing, but lonely.

Will I die just like this?
Everything that life has to offer is missed.
Every chance I get is nothing more than a regret
Every chance I take is nothing by hardships and consequences

I should be happy that I'm not in the shoes of someone else
But my version of loneliness is this
I don't want to care so much of the world anymore
I, for once, want to walk with no purpose

My life has always been with a goal
I get frustrated because everything has been so hard to achieve
I get so tired of living with a purpose
Why do I care so much of everything that surrounds me?

If I have a choice, I want to be careless
Leave everything and everyone in my life helpless
Tactless of all the people around me
Maybe, that's the reason, why I feel stressed and left out.
August 17 2017
surei Dec 2012
She's a bit smart and a little in pain,
so she takes her pills at dawn when everyone is dreaming
- while hers translate into crosses on her wrists for the loves she has lost,
and straight lines on her thighs as tally marks for each joy unaccomplished.

She's a bit ugly and a lot of beauty,
so she stares at the nothingness that she is
before any clothes, before any thing
- but how can that be, to be less of a person when nobody even said she was one before?

She's a bit honest and a whole lot of truth,
so she speaks censoring every softness that is of her heart,
but launching every thorn that ever struck her inner flesh
- it's for security, she says, and self defense...of course.

The Great Queen isn't everything that you see.
Evan Backward Mar 2014
I'm always beating myself up,
My own worst enemy, or so it goes
I tell myself I find it hard to think myself as
****
So I started saying it all the time.
I named myself **** and so can't be anything but.
I had been so absorbed in calling myself
Lost, unmotivated, grouchy, and awful,
That I had forgotten how powerful my words are.

I often feel lost, unaccomplished, unfulfilled.
Someone said to me the other day
"You're intelligent, witty, and beautiful"
What more could one want in a relationship?
I've accomplished that much.
Another has said before,
"You're an extremely insightful person,
those same skills will lead you to be
Successful in all areas of your life."
She said this and it was printed and
laminated onto a wall for all to see.
Yet somehow I managed to brush it off.

Somehow I manage to forget my accomplishments.
Somehow I've become human, for shame.
So I'll remind myself, I'll remember what I've been told.
I am an intelligent, witty, beautiful and lovable person.
I am successful, I am thoughtful and put my energy where it matters most.
Most importantly, I am growing.

I made that commitment long ago.
I decided that stepping into junior high,
I would grow to become friendly,
And I did.
I decided that stepping into high school,
I would grow to become a learner,
And I did.
I decided that stepping out of university I would become self-reflective,
And I have.
I decided that stepping into my job I would become future oriented,
And I will.

I made this commitment,
I signed this contract because
I matter.
Because I love myself.
Because I deserve to be my own best friend
And to be happy
And to be loving.

Because I am intelligent
And witty
And beautiful.
Because I am successful
And I will learn every time I falter.
Because I am a loved and loving person.
Because I have achieved
The respect of those I love.
Most of all,
I am commited to myself,
And I am growing.
Kevin Eli Jul 2015
Within the last few years since I left recovery, I have let many people and things into my life that have dragged me down over and over again thinking that my sympathy, empathy and support will somehow give these people the hope and help that I, myself was given. Combined with the feeling that many mistakes (that hurt people) I have made remain unfixed, my life choices from past to the present haunt me and cause me to lose sleep on a regular basis. I wake up half of my mornings feeling this isn't the life I want.

I feel used, unappreciated, helpless, unaccomplished, worthless, scared, alone, don't want to talk to anybody because I don't want to burden them... The list goes on.

(This is not every day. My friends, family and loved ones are plentiful and there for me. I am nevertheless thriving.)

This has caused me to be resentful, unable to trust, become guarded and unloving. This isn't me, nor the person I want to be. I have since cut out several people in my life, some suddenly and without explanation. I want to love these people just as much as I want to cuss at them. Steal from me, get loaded and make bad choices, refuse to pay me back, lie to me, cheat me, slander my name. Go ahead. You aren't going to be in my life for very long. Those types are no longer welcome, and I pray they stop one day because those people and those actions destroy this world slowly.

Regarding MY mistakes, there are some people I will never be able to make amends to because I will likely never see them again, while some will simply not accept it. Since I cannot make amends to these people, the only way I know how to feel better is to make a living amends and add good to this world in other places. These people will never know how badly I want redemption; for the last 6 months, I have given up my Saturdays and gone to the local ER and volunteered. My soul feels a bit better because of it and sadly it is the only institution that I feel valued at (irony that I don't get paid). I try and find things in my life that give me meaning, and do them. While some people will always hate me and only remember the messed up, strung out me, I have no choice except to breathe deep, but shaky, and trudge on. If this is the only life I will ever have, I choose to not let these people and my past haunt me. I choose to be here as a positive in the universe and will struggle with this until it kills me or hopefully until I don't have to.

I have tried for three years now my **** hardest to cope with a difficult work environment, deadly addiction and debilitating neurological issues. Few have given me answers or much less understood what the hell is wrong with me, none have provided a solution. Doctors don't know anything beyond their prescription pads it seems. The best help I get is a blank check for medical bills from my parents. They should not be suffering for my problems, I am 27. This only makes me feel more inept and worthless as well that I cannot take care of them. I took so much from them when I was bad, I don't want to take anymore.

I have gone and lost my **** far too many times because of what other people do... If you are finding yourself being self-destructive, you are likely hurting others with your actions. You need to remember that when you bring negativity to the table, you share it with those around you... I fight everyday to keep these negative demons away literally self-checking every hour I am awake and breathing (it is exhausting), but the factors adding to it must be recognized and dealt with. I'm tired of putting bandaids on infected situations, I want the infections out and the scars to form. I'm done with this phase of life's BS.

I made a promise three years ago that I would never give up, nor fall back to where I was. I am not perfect, but I will give myself one hell of an A for effort.

The few times when I see my efforts or apologies were appreciated, it feels like heaven. It is always worth it to help others as long as you don't give yourself and everything away.
Prathipa Nair Aug 2016
Torn pieces of paper with
Unadulterated memories
My heart bleeds with
unaccomplished love
Remaining a blank paper
Of unanswered questions
Without my knowledge
Lost in your unabated love
Still sinking in it with a
Confidence to swim
From the abuse of
Unacceptable society
Discern my love with
An unaccompanied heart
Waiting to dissolve in your
Unblemished love for me!
Faded Jun 2019
My words are never complete,
poems always half finished.
I’ve deleted more then I’ve saved.
When I post my poems they’re never quite finished.

My mind is a mess,
My hopes never realized.
My dreams left unaccomplished.
When I speak to you my words are always half hearted and half complete.
I guess I’m just not the man I thought I’d be

— The End —