"unamused" poems
On a comfortable breezy evening,
my mum converses with her sister via Skype
exchanging quirky tales
They broach the subject of her lemon tree.
"It's the most peculiar case;
it was growing so divinely
until, suddenly, it stopped."
Silence. Then the punchline:
"Reminded me of your daughter."
They exchange hoots of laughter
Meanwhile, I sit in the corner
arms folded, eyebrows knitted
unamused
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
I could write an entire poem
about the way it felt like a million honeybees buzzing around my insides when you'd grab my arm as I walked past you
and how it felt like each and every one of them stung me when you stopped noticing when I walked past you
or about how I felt like I could talk to you forever when we sat in that coffee shop for the first time
and how I learned that there's no such thing as forever when I found out that it would also be the last time
And I could write a billion stanza's
about how I can understand Darwin's theory of evolution, and why you should never fight the current if you're drowning, and why the moon seems like it's following you on car rides
but could never understand why you loved that girl for 2 years when she stole every bit of your innocence and everything that made you whole
And I could probably make a long list
of different words that describe how you look on a Monday morning
like tired
and sheepish
and unamused with the slow pace of traffic
Or write a novel
on why you stopped wearing your seatbelt the day your mother stopped wearing her wedding ring
But I suppose
that all I'd really be trying to say
is that I miss you
and that I still feel the stingers of the honeybees stuck in my skin.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 8:02 PM UTC
Let me ask the question that I've wondered for what seems like centuries.
Let me know.
What exactly is the ************* point?
What drives you to turn emotional "love"
Into physical "love"?
I have been constantly dissatisfied.
Endlessly unamused.
Forever jaded.
To the point that I can't imagine the notion of this ********** being even minutely beautiful.
Or even worthy of being the median of which love is concocted.
**** it.
I don't want to understand.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 3:53 AM UTC
The clouds are boring now
as I exist in a realm outside reason and romance.
These clouds are aimlessly
splattered on a dull blue sky
by a tried Artist
feeling uninspired…unrealized.
Is there any hope
for the Artist
and our world he tries to paint?
Why must the artwork continue
to destroy itself!
I destroy me
by staying stagnant and unamused.
Perhaps sometimes art
must be boring to soothe the soul
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 8:42 AM UTC
Shadowy showdown,
So slithery, slippery, snake stand.
Eyes yield eight years of restlessness,
While baggy eyes droop like mind stuck in senselessness.
Truly traumatic tales told tons of taints,
and trucking thoroughly through the thorns turn to turn.
Thus the mind shall riddle more maze like a mused upon mused,
for nothing shall keep a mind stagnant but the thoughts unamused.
Proclaim profound process profusely,
While prance protruding proponent proud processes.
Stand straight, so sight searing senses sought,
And stir strength seeping souls.
For truest of devotion must be expressed from the inner self,
even if slithery, slippery, snake, stand for a showdown!
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
I had to give up my sexcapes
I started to form an addiction
and realized the control I thought
I had, had me.
No more did it become my great
escapes but left me feeling
confused and unamused...
**** it was getting hard for
me to breathe.
It was hard for me to believe
that I had sunken to that level
treating my body as a worthless
vessel, digging holes in my
soul and I was holding the
shovel.
**** that's deep...
had to look there for
the parts of me I
had lost.
Guess you can say I
got caught up in the sauce.
The satisfaction became a
fraction. Divided myself
in half and was left
with nothing.
Half a mind, half a soul, half
a body I was walking
around incomplete.
You see I forgot I was a
sun Ray and was my beacon
of hope... promise.
I promised myself to never
travel back down that path
I picked a dandelion and
made a wish.
With help from God I'm
walking on rainbows to
my own *** of gold.
Gotta give Him praise because
sometimes the road got a lil' rough
but I remained strong.
My journey taught me
to be tough.
Taught me to endure
and have faith.
Now today I'm
celebrating because
my life is a parade.
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 1:28 AM UTC
It’s sad to say, that you were with me today,
And now I sit here, in trials and dismay,
How you left, was painful and I was confused,
Why you had to die now and leave me unamused.
At such an early age, you left this world, To a place unknown, one of no words,
Gone too soon you had to leave,
And all your loved ones, you’ve left bereaved.
I can’t say, I knew you well,
But from the time we spent, everyone could tell,
That I was meant to meet you,
To know you better,
And now I’m thankful, and I hope you’ll be greater!
I wish you the best, and say hello to the rest,
Give my Papa a high five, and I pray that you’ll be alive,
That you’ll enjoy every moment, with the Father above,
For eternal life, you shall feel the love.
SEE YOU LATER JOHN…
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC
Unamused, abused, inflicted by I
Distractions, that keep my heavy eyes alive
*** drugs, deep conversations keep me fed
This feels as real as pretend, driven by others for fuel I don't have
This must be the end
Nah, I'll never die,
I'll continue to tell myself so I don't amend my habits
Embrace these teenage customs that feel so unique
They aren't, but that keeps me in synch
Willingly letting denial be a trait, a style of it's own
That will take me out one day, I already have condoned
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 1:21 AM UTC
So I went to get new glasses
Cos my eyes have felt real bad
I went there feeling cr*p
I left there feeling sad
I squinted and I squirmed
In that black opticians chair
"I'm afraid your vouchers expired sir"
**** off that isn't fair!"
Well that's what I wanted to say
But I bit me lip and sighed
When she told me what I owed
I almost frickin died
"How much?! I blurted back
Wide eyed and unamused
I was fed up and so I nodded
**** me should have refused!
I hope these glasses see covid
It should for that friggin' sum
Stick your lenses and your voucher
Right up your b**
Apr 6, 2021
Apr 6, 2021 at 5:42 PM UTC
BREAKING LIMERICKS BREAKING LIMERICKS BREAK
STOP the PRESSES while we pop the strésses !
EXtry, EXtry, read all about it:
Fake news pays dues to sing rural blues in red-state hues.
Nanny-state networks choose to accuse & civil fury ensues!
See special edition on CIA sedition :
The rural red states stand accused
By the quingdom whose queen they refused
it's so hillbilly-larious
all of them various
voters now left unamused.
FAKE NEWS: it's the virus du jour
of the affluent liberals. The poor
are more prone to believe
it's a plot to deceive
and no government offers a cure.
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 1:47 PM UTC
My Father's mother wrote me a check
And though she has a checkbook
with her name on it
From four years ago,
She sent me the decadent sum
of twenty-five dollars
On a slip of paper with a name
that was of her husband,
My Father's Father,
And still is.
When I look at this check pinned to my wall
I am reminded of the man,
The eighteen-wheeling man,
And how a few years ago I was afraid
and unamused
So I did not peek into his open casket.
It was a year since I had seen him,
And 'goodbye' escaped my lips (which were sealed
incredibly) until he was lowered.
I hope he went to heaven; if he did not
I am sure I will say 'hello'
After I cash this check,
But not yet.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 10:34 AM UTC
You know that old saying
"Actions speak louder than words"?
Well, I've learned to observe
the behavioral patterns
of when our conversations
become a burden.
I am a professional at
reading the signs
of unamused eyes
and you just stare
right through me.
I guess that is fair play.
After all, I used to say
too much
and you cared
when you could.
Foolish of me to think there would
ever be a middle.
We left on words
misunderstood
and nothing more
would follow.
You had a boundary
that I overlooked.
I guess
"hello"
was all
it
took.
Nov 23, 2019
Nov 23, 2019 at 12:02 AM UTC
It's 2:30 A.M.
And my coming of "age" memories begin to
Float within oblivion.
Although I'm sure there's light somewhere...
one. like everyone else, i'm warmly welcomed, i think?
two. being ill didn't stop me from gaining enjoyment,
but i surely can't remember.
three. blank.
four. blank.
five. blank.
six. pinning the tail was worth the laugh.
seven. blank.
eight. blank.
nine. blank.
ten. blank.
eleven. blank but i'm sure that i was happy to leave the zeros on the scale.
twelve. blank.
thirteen. blank.
fourteen. exactly what a celebration for growth should feel like.
fifteen. seasick and unamused.
sixteen. blank.
seventeen. blank. maybe i ate or something.
eighteen. an unforgettable adventure.
nineteen. absolutely nothing.
twenty. hopped late onto a magical train.
thank you, my friend.
twenty-one. i wish it never happened
And it hasn't been long since then.
May 9, 2019
May 9, 2019 at 10:45 PM UTC
I sat at a table with Death.
I ate from his plate while he
Pinched from my snus.
We were drinking, and not unamused.
He was quite a good listener; took in
Every word.
He laughed at my jokes, and my
Stories he heard
With a keeness about him,
Charisma and charm,
So far from a force of such terror
And harm?
Not once did he hint at my life or my
Soul.
He paid for my drinks and for
Every bowl of
Nachos they served as we sat
Through the night.
Laughing and sharing until
The first light.
The best of my times. As if on
My request.
Then Death sat his cup down, put
Thumb to his chest.
Belched and stood up, took his scythe
And said: "Boy,
You went as you wanted; with
Beverage and joy.
Now leave every worry, forget
Each regret.
Come home and lay down, you have
Earned right to rest.
No second of Life that you lived,
You'll forget.
I sat at a table with Death.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 5:35 PM UTC
there are times where i remember everything you have given me. you taught me the best things and the worst. you taught me how to love with all my heart, and how to hate with every inch of my soul. there are times where i remember the way you use to look at me. when you use to pay attention, nod your head in awe of what i had to think, of what i had to feel. you use to look so golden, even underneath the moons pale gaze and the cigarette smoke against your breeze-chilled skin. i use to look like a ghost. only visible to your eyes. there are times where i remember everything you told me. remembering that i have the power to leave the cold bath water if i pleased. that i had the power. you use to always be there for me. you always use to protect me when i needed it the most. i could call you and you'd be waiting for me on the other end. i always did the same for you. i still would. i remember the times you use to love me. when i was your favourite, and we'd dance around in the darkness, unafraid and young. before our cigarettes turned stale, our lipstick running out, you use to love me. it seems now the track has stopped, the feelings gone; unamused and full of malice, you used to love me. you used to. and now you've used me entirely.
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 1:30 AM UTC
I stagger cold through the halls of my indoctrination.
I do not wish to be seen.
A thousand ******* eye's gawk silent from there checker pattern perches
and my chains and prizes jingle
and attract stares
with each bounding step.
I can no longer stand my hours in this house of heresy.
Loose lipped **** lovers
spill secrets over bile chowder
chuckling about a days delicacies
and social secrets.
Second rate at best,
they all know there lover boy on the Hollister bag
probably takes it in the *** more than the average ***
and still they swoon blind batty eyed at the queens that prance the halls.
I am unamused
Feel abused
giving out my finest hobby to any takers.
I'm being used.
How am i supposed to taste my death sweet and smokey at this rate.
Like some fluff tailed hair
I hustle off with my ticking life in toe
the numbers at my waste spell ruin.
I'm late.
I'm late.
If only I had some red haired queen of hearts
to behead me.
A better fate.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 11:08 PM UTC
I sit here slipping
Hands on that table gripping
Mind starts dripping
Heart starts chipping
Skin melts off my body dripping
As I fall away from reality
It appears in my view what I think about constantly
Enough with this formality
I'll show you my brutality
I lack any kind of normality
This is no fallacy
I am a demon
Ignite your beacon
Your not longer a free man
I'm seething
For your bleeding
Rip you to shreds so your blood drips from the ceiling
But let me tell you why I become this demon
I was broken
Somewhere in time it was spoken
That a monstrous beast would be awoken
He came to me as I was being abused
And told me what to do against the accused
Finally I had enough being broken and bruised
He told me to get a needle and thread because they must be fused
I strung them up licking the blood as it oozed
They stood there in confuse wondering why they were being accused
I stood there unamused for this is a crime that can't be excused
So with my fists and might
I took my first strike
This punch I through was nothing alike
Every fist I through in my entire life
For it did not end it's just commenced
Continuously punching this monster in the neck
So in the battle to **** the monster I faced
I become the demon behind my face
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 12:48 PM UTC
When you think of her
There was a twinkling sadness in your dulled eyes
How your eyes would light up
And like a mosquito lamp amidst a fog,
Its light was hindered beneath layers of gloom
Your exhausted smile would crunch gently to a side
And you'd let out an unamused chuckle
Probably at what a fool you've been
(A fool for her)
And every time that stupid Maroon 5 song plays
There would be a consuming emptiness in your stare
A hollowness, even.
A hole in your heart
That was hers to fill
Not mine
Not mine
Not mine
And never could be mine
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
She noted, grimly cognizant of though unamused by the irony,
That her likeness, or something akin to that,
Appeared on the poster—a gray-clad strong and vibrant woman
Reaching, in concert with her comrades
(One woman in a white coat, a man in overalls and requisite cap,
Still another androgynous figure in a futuristic ensemble
Resembling some cross of a Western science fiction movie
And some cheap Petrograd-made tin foil)
Toward a hammer-and-sickle adorned moon
Soon to be conquered by a similarly festooned rocket ship.
She is no scientific apparatchik, no technically gifted party functionary;
It is her job to feed the canine occupant of this mission to the cosmos
(Two mutts from the Moscow streets, she confides to Ilysa,
One of the few co-workers who can be trusted with such a statement.)
The dog, she notes without any trace of rancor, eats quite well,
Better than she does in truth,
But it is a series of last meals for the condemned,
For there is no secret as to the dog’s eventual fate
(Poor cur, he has no idea he is doomed,
One of the scientists clucks sadly,
Though she simply shrugs in reply,
Knowing a test or a trap when she sees it,
Though she thinks to herself He is far from alone)
And, after she has cleaned up the remnants of the dog’s dinner,
She heads back to her one-room flat on the Yaseneavaya Boulevard,
Noting ruefully, as she ascends the crumbling, unsteady steps
Leading to her blocky, faceless building,
That the omnipresent klieg lighting of the street lamps
Serves to obscure any trace of the heavens in the night sky.
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 9:49 AM UTC
184 gone and in great despair
one hundred eighty four trials and institutions. 184 new reasons to forgive
to use, to be confused, to lose, and to get loose all gone
they are all gone. gone for good, forever, for evers and everys, somewhere on Everest, or likely just high up in the sky. Somewhere in the chasm of iCloud or hidden on the hard-drive of one of my Macs.
Tired and Hurt, Anxious, Alert, all of me is frustrated my skin is doing different things, all of it is baffling and I don't even know how I'm going to try to keep mildly sane, all of them are gone and I'm a total wreck, I am.
One-hundred Eighty-Four Notes on my iPhone gone. They're all alone, all of them on their own. Me I'm just by myself and squarely overwrought. Confused and upset, I wonder if the Mac God's have tried to take their pain and loss of the Jobbs out on me. All these note's are gone and I don't know what to do. Do I swear? Do I sweat? Do I call Apple instead of setting myself to burn? What have I done? What have I done to come down to a blank screen lost of all its myriad characters.
The pages don't care, I'm sitting perturbed in my underwear, baffled, unamused, furious, and feeling used. My trust combusted, my one hundred eighty four are gone. And no one cares. All my notes are gone and no one knows. My poems are gone, I sing this song, but all my words are gone don't you know? They're all gone....don't you know! I want my 184. I need my 184- don't you know! I just can't ignore, my 184.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 8:13 AM UTC
Gazing out the window, it’s beautiful outside, letting my mind wandering into the distance daydreaming about the endless possibilities. Then someone slams a ruler on my desk that caught me by surprised I nearly jump out of my chair startled. It was the teacher glaring down at me spitefully.
“Eyes up here, Grace! You need to pay attention!” said the teacher. “Didn’t you hear me? Open your text book to page 300 and keep up!” My classmates started to giggle then the teacher walked back to the front of the classroom, chalk in hand and began to write on the chalkboard, letters that I couldn’t quite make out. The teachers words start to muffle as I try and locate my binder and pencil for notes but then I hear the teacher call my name “Grace” and I look up with fear in my eye hoping she did not just call on me to answer her question.
“Grace could you please come to the front and spell the word ‘BECAUSE’ on the board?” I knew this word but I don’t remember how to spell it. I really hate going to the front of the class because I always make a mistake. I slowly get up from my desk, my hands start to sweat, and the room goes silent as I walked, with my shoes squeaking on the tile floor louder than usual, up to the teacher. I take the chalk from the teacher’s hand. As I begin to write I freeze.
Paralyzed with fear I ask the teacher “I’m sorry, can you repeat the word that you wants me to spell?”
The teacher scoffed at me and even louder said, “The word is, ‘BECAUSE’!” I nodded my head trying to remember but my mind was blank, I remember using my markers to trace out the letters of each word but this one was particularly hard to remember. I started to write B…E…K…then I’m stuck, I start to panic and I write the remaining letters that sounded right A…Z. then I immediately place the chalk down on the teacher’s desk and walk as fast as I could back to my desk. The students all start to roar in laughter, as they know I made a mistake. I look on the board and it reads ‘BEKAZ’ I know its wrong but I don’t have the answer to change it.
The teacher, unamused by the students stares at the chalk board then turns and looks straight at me as says “Grace, you will not go outside for recess instead, you will sit in the beanbag and read, if I see you slacking off, you will be tracing out your letters for the spelling test that is this Friday.” After her remark the bell rang and it was time for lunch.
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 9:44 AM UTC
I can't let you see me
Avert your eyes
You'd despise
You'd go blind
I can't let you hear me
Don't listen
Ignore what I say
Forget I exist
Not worthy of your love
Not worthy to be in your presence
Worthless to the core
Worthless from the start
I can't let you touch me
Refrain to feel
I'd taint your skin
It would be a sin
I can't let you love me
You'd be repulsed
You'd be unamused
Cursed with a loveless heart
Not worthy of your love
Not worthy to be in your presence
Graced with an insignificance
Adorned with a crown of failure
Worthless to the core
Worthless from the beginning
Worthless in the heart
Worthless till the end
Cody Shull, 2016
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 2:05 PM UTC
"Layna, this is Seth,"
Our father breathed into
My ear.
"I think you two should play together
For a while."
We were only children,
Toddling around
With wild fantasies.
I was bashful and shy,
But I always tried
To make you laugh.
And you always gave me
Reasons why you weren't a good
Playmate.
We played tag,
And the wind would carry
Your feet
And push my hair into my face,
I never liked this game.
You always got so far away.
I'd only catch you
When you were out of breath,
You'd stop short,
And I run into you
Hard.
"Father she pushed me!"
"I did NOT! He's lying!"
Our small high voices
Would rise up the chimney
Making imperfect
Melodies together,
And not hearing a thing
The other said,
Too caught up
In our own disassociative
Play land.
"Daddy he won't listen to me!
He ignores me!"
"Father I can't get her
To slow down and think!"
Our amusement
Of one another
Started getting rough,
You didn't like
How I'd started getting more
Boisterous,
And confident.
Unafraid to poke the bear with a stick,
And I loathed your timid
Out look on life.
"Father she scares me! She plays too rough!"
"Daddy he won't take chances! He's still so shy!"
But then there'd be a blissful
Moment
Of perfect harmony,
Under a canopy of tree branches
Woven together,
You'd dare to hold my hand,
And I'd slow down
And breathe it in.
"Daddy why can't he always be like this?"
"Father will she calm down
With age?"
"I love him daddy, he's good sometimes."
"I love her father, she's beautiful when she's gentle."
We built things together,
Crooked buildings out of
Sticks.
You found it funny when they fell through,
I saw it as a problem
To solve.
"Father she's too driven, and bossy. She wants everything just so."
"Daddy he doesn't care if it all falls apart."
We'd wrestle in the grass,
It started out just fun,
Then your pride was damaged,
And so was mine,
And I couldn't let you win.
"Father I don't know if I want to play anymore, she never lets anything go. She won't let me have my way."
"Daddy he thinks I have to be something else."
I would giggle at foolish things,
And sang silly songs,
And you watched me with slitted eyes, Unamused.
"Father she's overwhelming."
"Layna he isn't happy,"
Our father murmured softly.
"Well I'm not happy either!
So he can just leave me alone!"
"What? Why?"
"Because you don't like me anyways!"
"Fine!"
Our inner
Traumatized children, didn't play well together,
And they were determined
To come out
And have their say,
So when they couldn't get along,
I realized,
Neither could we.
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 4:07 PM UTC