"uncaringly" poems
My mind keeps trying
to find my soul.
But when its distracted
and forgets to look
it finds it while absently watching the trees barely uncaringly grow
so slow.
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 10:24 PM UTC
Ugly bird, you see,
I'm too perceptive for these games,
you Seek.
I can tell in your eyes, within my demons' dream,
That you are many things to many people,
A wish, a woman, a genie, a lover, a slave,
And nothing ever to be possessed or,
To have value, nay,
only fleeting, like the wind, void of essence,
and so I made a decision, long ago,
To let your wind swirl around mine,
Coming and going like nature doth please,
Uncaringly gazing into a cruel,
Empty world.
Fault nothing of yourself,
Just my eyes that are seeing,
My mind that is thinking,
And my heart that has long since,
Stopped beating.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 5:16 AM UTC
Superficial salutations, polite insincerity beckons me to smile
Yet inwardly frown, indifferently my apathy towards you is unknowing
Yet you don’t care, walking on, not even looking towards who you greeted
I walk on wasting empty words, wasted thoughts
My mind is elsewhere, my thoughts cut off by my inept actions
The hallways, long and narrow
When do I make eye contact, when do I smile
Do I wave, or do I simply nod my greeting
I’m confused, gone are the ethics of caring, showing our true selves
Yet pretending
The masks we design and delve in, the wasted effort
Do we deign for attention, desire it
I would rather not talk to you, nor make communication
I know you don’t either
Yet, in our perfect word, our codified condescendence
Smile the mask, smile the task, uncaringly we mumble
Our hellos and goodbyes in one syllable sentences not skipping a beat
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 4:21 AM UTC
Unconsciously or uncaringly discarding her cares like waste
Unable to admit it; but always responding with reasons not to
Always flipping but she's tired of spinning,
Waiting, staring at the time capsule trapped within a reflection
Time spilled upon the table and upon the floor into haphazard directions
Always second choice, second best or second rate
Viewed as wanting too much—she’s unable to be seasoned to his desired taste
Every struggle is a test? Or tested to see how long the struggle will persist?
But then new, more prominent entries are placed onto his list
Items like her shift down like the cells in Excel
Didn’t know breath was being held, so now there is the waiting to exhale
Thinking of her growth, thinking she will prevail
But in actuality, the plan in totality has failed
The car has derailed
Only reasons to distract
Ready to create and manipulate whenever the train is ready to switch tracks
So she will turn around and return to the top
Whether it is unconscious or uncaring, she knows it has got to stop
Be ready to address it with only the right reasons to
Stop the spinning and the flipping,
Because the mirror’s reflection is just You
Make good on the things you once planned to do
So that the many concerns will be reduced to a few
Know the character changes are for real-- not a sample
Show her that you're here, you hear, and who she is to you is ample
She’s tired of collecting dust like an old nick-knack on a mantle
Accept her as she is because the rejection leaves her trampled
May 6, 2010
May 6, 2010 at 9:33 AM UTC
The path was long and arduous
And night began to veer
O’er trees, and lanes and rusted gates
Its' shadows breeding fear
Unbridled Wind wisped ‘round
Tombstone crosses where
Hissing its’ frustration
Loudly in despair
It sought to nourish fears
The shadows did create
Searching everywhere to find
It’s soul-less night-time mate.
Moonbeam light kissed the Night
Claiming shadows as their child
Together then in lock-step
They bent on running wild
And there, where he awaited
Their cold inspiring touch
With doctrines of all Evils
Firmly in his clutch
The blackness in his heart,
Thumping ‘neath his frock
Soon it’s rancid maladies
The Wind would there unlock
Thoughts of what’s to come
Then twisted lips to smile
Revealing stained and yellowed teeth
Trapping breath so rank and vile
‘twas then The Prince of Avarice
Rose and stood *****
The world would soon be his
To ravage and infect
His eyes of snake, both bespake
Behind their reptile lids
The embrace of the doctrine
For no Evils it forbids
The Wind increased its’ howling
Icy fingers pushing fro
Arranging fallen hopes
Into a dead rouleau
And you and I so un-suspect
Of pending alchemy
Believing we were safe inside
Cocoons of normalcy.
Our naiveté so firmly grasped
Caused us to belie
The chaos we knew not …
‘twas there, and drawing nigh
As Wind fingers touched him
He yelled out his decree:
“ The Prince of Avarice shall reign
And destroy Democracy!”
His school of ghouls, dunce and fools
Clamored to his side
Greed having won the day
Was about to take It’s ride!
Greed, first blessed the banks
And Wall Street did rejoice
The Prince of Avarice then silenced
All protestor ‘s voice
With lies and propaganda
All fabricated well
Then all the bankers rang
The borrowers death knell
Morgan Stanley, AGI,
Then ‘twas Goldman-Sachs
Raking in what Greed gave out:
Billions in green-backs.
Glutted bankers,
Through laughter Greed had honed
Uncaringly showed the world
A prediction - their prodrome
Of broken dreams, foreclosure schemes
Insuring that which failed
But jobs the cost, as homes were lost
And not a banker jailed.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 4:20 PM UTC
To go around and explore
To see your options
And to uncaringly consume yourself with them
To enjoy and lust
Over something new
Different, dangerous...
To do all that
And to still come back and think of the past
To think
And reminisce over what there was
And what there still could be
Is that what love is?
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 7:38 AM UTC
The summer is beginning to
Seep back into my sallow skin
As the crisp night air
Turns warm and fragrant
And the sky
Dirtied with light
Disapates back into
An eerie though
Strangely comforting displacement.
Always temporary,
Change remains scary.
But the uncharted territory
Can't always be complementary
To the days whims and desires.
Weeks may come and go
And I will remain uninspired,
But soon the summer breeze
Will come whispering again
To remind me
Of the tickle of anticipation
When ideas are all I have
And facts have yet to
Set themselves into any certain order
And I don't feel so old
And your body will block the cold
With sandy smirks
And drunken comfort
As we slosh together uncaringly
For a few nights out of the week
And maybe by and by
You'll mean something to me
Or maybe we'll just go with
"We'll see"
But either way you will come again with the summer
And again I'll see
if I can try to be happy.
3.25.15 C.e.M
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
How can we live in a society that lies and manipulates
And endorses wars over a man in the sky?
How can we stand idly by whilst others run terrified through streets
That bleed with the essence of a tortured soul?
We have our lives handed to us on a silver platter
Whilst others can barely salvage morsels enough that, even when bonded together with all the dregs of an exhausted heart,
Barely manage to sustain a child.
Perhaps because it's easier to look at the moon as a smudge in the sky,
Softened by sheets the same as the indifference that clouds our mind and allows us to stare uncaringly ahead,
Not thinking of the panic stricken eyes that stare at the exact same moon as pandemonium courses through their streets.
How are we meant to clear the prejudices that have settled, cloying in our minds
Like the early autumn mist?
The gnarled fingers of hate hold us so tightly that our vision is
Blackened around the edges and we cannot see what lurks on the fringes of society.
The questions swim around aimlessly,
Fish darting across a tabloid, printed scales screaming for recognition.
But what is a question without an answer?
Meaningless.
Just like the corpses littered as morbid confetti,
Carnage celebrating the scarlet essence of man spilled in vain.
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
Does it make any sense,
how you are so far away.
Why are you here in front of me, when I can’t reach out to touch you.
you are so painfully real, I wish I just made you up.
Aren’t there plenty of things between us? So many, I couldn’t even count
the time. the minutes, the days, the ages.
All those adventures I haven’t accompanied you on.
All those problems you solved with someone else.
All those stories you haven’t shared with me.
All that warmth you are radiating with but I’ll never feel.
Why is there the deepest gap I can’t jump over.
I’m trying to build a bridge every night in my sleep.
The abyss doesn’t let me through, there is no other side I’m trying to reach.
Nothing I could grasp and hang onto, nothing I could ever imagine to see.
Just me, looking into the darkness standing on the edge of a broken dream,
feeling tremendous hope, scorched by the fire of excitement.
I’ll never understand what that look in your eyes means.
Those questioning blues, feeling them hit me right where it’s best.
Unknowingly, uncaringly you don’t see it,
how it hurts me, all that hope I have for us.
Because we two don’t exist together.
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 4:38 PM UTC
there is a piece of literature out there
waiting for me to inseminate it.
it lies in a gutter somewhere,
or in the woods,
with no concern for the present.
no concern for shelter.
it sits, lies, waits,
walks and paces and worries,
coping with my absense by touching itself into a shuddering cramped pile
breathing like a dog chased a car in the sun through the neighborhood
then overcome with the smell of the heat from another dog.
wet with its own slobber
it is pure temptation throbbing at the body and frothing from every hole.
its obsession is mindless.
drooling on its naked self,
dehydrating and dying.
so wet with want that if it were to find me it would jump into my healthy hands and slip right through their distracted hold;
******* the air until it hit the ground at my feet, then half consciously ******* my toes.
it is muttering my name into a blanket of leaves and trash and squirming with a fever so bright as to bury itself slowly into the soft dirt.
drowning in time.
giving sick births to an excrement of unformed consonants and concepts.
it becomes lines of light
enscribed in a holy vacuum
as i sit here making love to this-
it dies now,
in the very same moment
that i waste my seed uncaringly
on these nice young healthy words
only as a tool to help me sleep.
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 1:33 AM UTC
When my humanity is forgotten and I don't seem to mind doing what feels good. When I lose my inhibitions and forget the teachings of wrong and right. When I forsake what is moral for what is wanted. When I give the devil his chance to play. When I become something wickedly playful, or uncaringly cruel. That is the darker side of me.
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 9:58 AM UTC