"unconcern" poems
All I can see is that we shall be burned
Will turned into a billion ashes
But blinded and crippled were unconcern
Still catching the meaning of holy masses
Sometimes I wonder, If they were the one disabled
Because at most, it's us all along
Who have this blinded and crippled soul
12-26-2015
Dec 27, 2015
Dec 27, 2015 at 8:58 PM UTC
Boredom #2
I’ve never seen so many synonyms for one small noun,
Blocking maturation and enjoy-dom:
Boredom.
“Weariness, ennui: frustration;
Restlessness, dissatisfaction, unconcern: frustration;
Lethargy, lassitude, flatness and frustration;
Dreariness, repetitiveness, apathy: frustration;
Tedium, monotony, dullness. yes, frustration.”
Can it be overcome, this boredom?
No more war - the boredom won,
Exchanged for something more like fun?
It can.
A friend who, when we speak, says,
“It’s a part of nature…has no answer...”
Reasoning fallacious,
She is wrong as wrong can be
And her reasoning a fallacy.
Awake at night: hormones, full moons;
The glut of light: electric gadgets and devices,
Radios that play a song too strong, too long..
A trick I’ve learned that’s brought results;
A knack, a shortcut worth consulting
Is to train the brain to focus on/in/with the brain;
Travel round in, sense and feel…
Make it real – as if you really feel
The part you aim at, frame then tame.
In seconds you’ve an object that’s becomes a subject.
Boredom fled, you freed,
You and your mood well pleased, released
And taken places least expected,
Un-objected to by you,
The burden boredom’s through.
And doomed!
Boredom 11.24.2016/ #2 revised 2..16.2017
Revelations Big & Small; Definitely Didactic;
Arlene Corwin
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 6:30 AM UTC
Come, my Ardelia, to this bowre,
Where kindly mingling Souls a while,
Let's innocently spend an houre,
And at all serious follys smile
Here is no quarrelling for Crowns,
Nor fear of changes in our fate;
No trembling at the Great ones frowns
Nor any slavery of state.
Here's no disguise, nor treachery
Nor any deep conceal'd design;
From blood and plots this place is free,
And calm as are those looks of thine.
Here let us sit and bless our Starres
Who did such happy quiet give,
As that remov'd from noise of warres.
In one another's hearts we live.
We should we entertain a feare?
Love cares not how the world is turn'd.
If crouds of dangers should appeare,
Yet friendship can be unconcern'd.
We weare about us such a charme,
No horrour can be our offence;
For misheif's self can doe no harme
To friendship and to innocence.
Let's mark how soone Apollo's beams
Command the flocks to quit their meat,
And not intreat the neighbour -- streams
To quench their thirst, but coole their heat.
In such a scorching Age as this,
Whoever would not seek a shade
Deserve their happiness to misse,
As having their own peace betray'd.
But we (of one another's mind
Assur'd,) the boistrous world disdain;
With quiet souls, and unconfin'd,
Enjoy what princes wish in vain.
2.2k
I see the golden whisks that stretch up into a turquoise sky
reverently the abode of the flying kite that twirls
upon the rafters of the heavens cathedral
drifting upon the open planes where the wind takes hold, rushes
drifting the soft plumes to the breeze and scented air
In a triumphant flight of dreams and hope.
The is a peaceful tranquility that invades the minds
silences it to the spectacle of sheer grace and bliss
that for hours upon hours my eyes partake of this exquisite dance
of life upon the flapping wing, air upon a pounding heart
The soul glides up there, dives and drifts upon every wish
Upon every far flung vision that draws a heart to want.
Sweet these images that so often go unseen,
we tread a delicate balance to the sweet song of life
Hold it upon our breath to whisper its majesty, its perfection
blind to the real depth of what there is, how we walk so coldly
upon a dark world where our horizons torch the scene
and wears the shudder of unconcern.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2, 2011
Apr 2, 2011 at 6:46 AM UTC
He touched our hands
But unconcernedly this famous man
And would not look us in the eye
For fear of contact or what might be worse, connection
And we could hardly blame him, for after all
He had each day been singled out for close inspection
By ones like us, in awe of his celebrity
Circled in the shade of his perfection
Hoping for the star-dust sprinkle of acuity
Or sparkling eyes, admission to his inner cult and clan
He wore blue jeans
And scuffed sneakers as a badge of proof
Of his coolness and unconcern
While we his audience with concealed attention
Enviously eyed his hairy confidence, unconsciously
Imitating in each phrase that low convention
Made small adjustments to our store-bought suits and ties
And nodded several times in bright pretension
Made small amendments to our smiles and lies
Flicked photo-phones in pursuit of custom and routine
He gave a speech
A flippant interview, this famous creature
A well tossed phrase, a rounded cliche
Poured forth like brandy in a glass, convivial
Or apple cider-ed vinegar in pewter mugs
A sardonically French-accented phrase habitual
Well humored, heavy lidded with testosterone
At interlocutor women with the pens and pads
Delivered in a low and purring monotone
For all the world as lovers, each to each
He stretched a smile
A modulated shift of teeth and beard
"Genius? Not I" with deprecation
"My shallow intellect, so poor and so ephemeral"
Delivered in a tone that mocked inclusion
While we assumed an elegance, unintentional
A nonchalance that shields the wide charades
Unmoving in our breathless, but conventional
Genuflection to the the notion that pervades
Our addictive appetite now sated. For a while.
He kissed their cheeks
And stroked their arms, with sensuous ambivalence
But absently, as if he cared so little
In his farewell. 'A bientot' he said and 'Au revoir'
And slipped away amongst the moving Milan crowds
Creative and creator, irredeemably a star
With, in his wake the smiling scriveners staring
At his retreating back in Stark excitement
In the middle of the circling and squaring, at
The alpha-wolfic effigy. The Shepherd and his sheep.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 6:46 AM UTC
290
Of Bronze—and Blaze—
The North—Tonight—
So adequate—it forms—
So preconcerted with itself—
So distant—to alarms—
And Unconcern so sovereign
To Universe, or me—
Infects my simple spirit
With Taints of Majesty—
Till I take vaster attitudes—
And strut upon my stem—
Disdaining Men, and Oxygen,
For Arrogance of them—
My Splendors, are Menagerie—
But their Completeless Show
Will entertain the Centuries
When I, am long ago,
An Island in dishonored Grass—
Whom none but Beetles—know.
1.7k
Stop right now and NUT IT OUT
Which way you wish to go,
Do you want the wealth and stressful strain
Or blithely flick and throw?
Do you preen yourself with smiling pride
Owning shining chattels new,
Whilst shallow OTHERS OGLE
With those envious eyes on you?
Or do you seek the clean four winds
Untrammelled by concern,
With sleeping bag, a crescent moon
Whilst crackling bonfires burn?
Have you thought to chuck it all
The car, the house, the boat
And cause your superficial friends
To snigger, leer and gloat?
To simply live in HUMBLE CIRCUMSTANCE
To wake without a plan,
To greet the day with unconcern
And breathe a new, fresh man.
Is the courage there to TAKE THE CHANGE,
Can you make the first big move,
Or does convention stay your hand
To stray from comfort’s groove?
Have you thought about what others think,
Reactions from the crowd,
The clamorous cacophony
Of objection rendered loud?
“Absolutely NOT, my dear”
Pygmalion my ****
To throw it all away, Silly,
Simply would... betray your Class!
“It’s all so rudimentary
This thing of living rough”
“Reminds me of the great apes,
And other basic stuff!”
There’s loads of reasons why YOU CAN’T,
The mortgage at the bank,
Insurance is essential
And while we’re being frank...
There’s the tennis club subscription
And the afternoons I’d miss
Sipping lattes with the ladies
..though, the gossip’s SO remiss.
Perhaps we’ll put it off for now
Another day perchance,
When devilment and joi le vivre
EFFUSE another prance.
When the dream of having freedom
With the cold wind in my hair,
Will drive me to release
The inner WILDNESS hidden there.
Marshalg
Victoria ParkTunnel
4 March 2011
Mar 4, 2011
Mar 4, 2011 at 6:14 PM UTC
Selective mates.
Bugs' unconcern manifests;
Eagles dwindle, die.
May 6, 2011
May 6, 2011 at 7:43 AM UTC
A little girl; so innocent
Broken, like concrete
Forsaken in this world
As God had chosen to replete
Forever damaged
Spare me the deceit
That I have long encountered
Mentally ****** and incomplete
I broke the mirrors
That distorted my vision
I am not perfect
I am far from precision
Just a judicial decision
To execute this excision
To ensure that this provision
Of unwanted unborn children
Remain broadcasted on public television
For the captivity of the elderly
Scorned, defeated and miserable
Left in utter decay
Salvaging day and night
Part of this twisted foreplay
That took place on Christmas Eve
For Chirst to be born
On such a horrible day, to entail
This sad story of evil
Demons from hell rose in this tale
But Jesus did nothing
Except to defy the Holy Grail
My exorcism, my ghost
To whom shall I toast?
To the one who left me to burn?
To define myself in these lies
God, I am flawed by your unconcern
Jesus, I am mocked by your reputable lies
For that you deserve a noble prize
Can't you see the concern in my eyes?
I have lost my allies
And I have become the worst
That I could possibly be
Part taking in these sins
Is that what you wanted from me?
You deny my existence
You hide behind pride
You force coincide
And you deny individuality
You force this conceited ******* to form
Or so you implied
Turns out the shock was worldwide
But that didn't stop you
From setting me aside
Sitting in your corner
Contemplating
Is she human or a mutation
Something somewhat malformed
Or perhaps just a devil
An ogre at best
Fine be that way
I am not one to detest
My worst side though
I do not advise you test
I am not blessed
For it is in black that I dress
"Satan's spawn!" they protest
Is it my fault that I am possessed?
Conniving and witty
I am sick of this mess
God you put me here
But nevertheless
I am obscene
And forever your mess
Dec 11, 2011
Dec 11, 2011 at 5:10 PM UTC
History repeats on us,
One life holding the gown
Of the next,
Waiting for its turn;
Just look at how the future greets us,
With a capful of
Utter unconcern.
I want to be of use to you,
But my memories
Are not admired by most –
They involve love and only love,
Or desire described as love
And floating
In the sky of a castle
with a hatful of flowers boasting ‘now’.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 5:55 PM UTC
In this green, pulsating sea of dreams,
Salt-warm, seasoned with illicit echoes,
I swim into you and under you and through you and to you
And I take you in my mouth.
Underwater, we are little fish, undulating.
Mouths fasten, **** open, close,
We breathe each other in.
Let's unevolve together, creatures of the deep
Unbothered by the air brigade above.
Limpet-like, our joinings are an unconcern
For all but us and the awakening depths.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 2:51 AM UTC
She was mad,
Heated, lost in love and anger,
Causing her mind to go numb,
In the rain waiting for a guy she wanted,
Wanted more then air,
And he was inside and ignorant,
As the rain came pouring down,
Unaware that she was there,
Standing, struck with unrequited love,
Wanting him on her, but he was quite lost himself,
Should he keep on going it alone?
She knocked on the door in the rain,
He heard with unconcern,
But opened anyways,
Looking into those docile eyes of soft blue,
How could he leave her there?
So he gripped her tighter then he ever did before,
Admitting his wrongs and downfalls,
How could he let the poor thing fall,
He smoothed the stray strands of hair and pressed upon those lips,
Which were so desperately need of his kiss,
And she couldn't help but to not give in
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 3:15 PM UTC
<><><><><><>
Along the fence horses trot
The leafy shadows slowly turn
I look up from a steaming ***
A world ripe with unconcern
Wild grasses bent with dew
And every bird's askew feather
I push into the grey-pink sky
This is mountain weather
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 12:45 AM UTC
Tried of it All
Tired of it Now
A need to Survive
Won't help us Out
Peace on Earth
Some sort of Joke
What they feed Us
Making us Choke
This is the Bed
In which we Lay
Headboard a Tombstone
Societies Grave
WHY DO THE MEN WE HIRED TO SERVE
SHAKE OUR HANDS AND GIVE US THEIR WORD
ONLY THEN TO GIVE IT ALL
TO THE ONES WHO GREASE THEIR PALMS
WHY HAVE WE NOT OUR LESSON LEARNED
YEARS OF GOVERNMENTS UNCONCERN
LONG AGO THEY TURNED THEIR BACK
LEAVING US NO MORE THAN WHAT WE LACK
Time we stood Up
In the thick of it All
Do it Ourselves
Make our own Calls
That's the way that It
Was meant to Be
Government under Control
With the people set Free
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 6:59 AM UTC
The Port Lincoln with a headed green
reminds of all the vanished love songs
tires of doom and cages of hope
some days the rawness cascaded
burning my sole with remnant matters
in a lovely world where we aspired
with fixed attires that truly perspired
At the heart of this desert bloom
where nothingness claims attention
at the hand of the sunken gloomy sun
which prevails the dry land it scorches
unveiling all the buried emotional cases
of utter regret and unknown possibilities
At the heart of the desert bloom
where the rain fades inside the sandy dunes
casting the breeze to the barren land
with unconcern perils and derailment
unveiling all the buried emotional cases
of utter regret and unknown possibilities
At the heart of a desert bloom
on the silvery aligned amber bridge
overlooking the stratified red rocks
where guanos and snakes rest and arrest
appeasing and hissing the untold secrets
At the heart of the desert bloom
on a mounted grill of unmovable waters
lying meters deep, overlaid by the patch
patterned with blackness and debris
as a heavenly breeze whispers of beginnings
At the heart of the desert bloom
where the past was long laid and cast
painted at the end of a two year past
of prolific and demonic disengagement
on passageways where all there is moves on
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 1:48 PM UTC
This problem has gone on so long
We always reach the same old sum
Multiplied by failure to learn
Divided by unconcern
Numbers that hide
Carried by lies
Uncertain equations
In each situation
You never seem to factor in
An answer where you don't win
Add only yourself
Like every time else
To sum up the fee
Just subtract me
Dj
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 4:18 PM UTC
to my limitation about the distance,
i withstand the heartbreak.
unconcern to other humans’ emotions
but, the broken piece
of being out of reach
of not having you in my arms
when things are falling apart
and i see you are too,
from far.
but the world isn’t a kind place,
to restore the heartbreaks of
two person(s) in love.
despite the devilish heartless fate
of the universe,
the sky and stars give the chance
to wish for the
unspoken and hopeful words,
for those which are in love.
Aug 8, 2020
Aug 8, 2020 at 9:38 AM UTC
A smooth and straight, an ordinary road
But in contrast to the houses of the area with trim hedges
Round their gardens with their cherry and apple trees,
That smooth and straight, and ordinary road, was an outsider
And ditto to re-occupied Nissen huts.
Heath grass had been cut short up to the edge of the road.
Down the centre there were proper markings
And cat's eyes. Now, I retain a picture of a squeaky clean
Smooth surface, colour a silvery, smoky grey.
Cars, trucks, some US military,
Would pass you by, grouped or singly, brusquely,
An air of unconcern native to them,
Engines' noises punctuating dominance
And if you ever thought to walk, even slide
A foot onto this road, vehicles
Would not stop and there would result outrage.
Sometimes I dreamt of a distant city.
I figured plain buildings hard to get to know, imposing,
In my mind it would be a quiet place
And, of course,
Important. Fifty miles; what
Anyone would do there, beyond imagining;
It all meant something different
At less than seven years old.
Those days we caught a bus, which went the other way,
To go to school. We had to cross that silver/grey road,
That inflexible road, then walk
A furlong or so up a gentle slope
Across the grassy heath to a winding
Road shaded by a deciduous wood, with crows;
A bendy, friendlier road.
With some of us larking about we went in a group
To wait for the bus.
Anywhere near that first road,
I walked close to the parent escorting us.
I would always feel unsafe near such an unkind road.
Apr 5, 2021
Apr 5, 2021 at 4:00 AM UTC
She spoke for the last time
that evening...
I lost my breath;
Her voice stole it away
I fell apart;
Into pieces
When the final word was spoke,
What a thing to say
Our time spent - was a good one
I left a life unknown in the desert
So when earth realigns with the sun
I’ll be a solar son
Spinning around in line
Like a top out of line
In a circle, going around and around in my eyes
Those that see only despise and
Unconcern of the things learned
I learned another thing
About heart ache and how the stake
Can drive so deep down into heart break
I am everything that I thought
Your fire under the barn
In the woods
Unknown now...
An unstoppable force.
Here we go.
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 9:26 PM UTC
She sat inside her ice-cream life
and guessed the number of
bingo markers it might take
to win the jackpot.
Sometimes she questioned why
so many people drove her
crazy. Insulted her.
She divided her friends and lovers
into good and bad directions.
It was raining outside when
she began to cook the supper.
The stove was hot she was cold.
She was always cold in her house,
in her ice vein kitchen with
the pretty white lace curtains
and the yellow-green walls.
Her problems could all be
isolated into one situation after
another. She light a cigarette.
Sitting at her table wondering
if she should cook rice or potatoes
with the meat. It didn't matter.
They'd wolf down the food
without a glance at her effort.
She found she was happier
when the kids were at school and
that man was at work doing whatever.
Impatience wasn't so much her statement
as was unconcern. So what,
she thought, as she dusted her ashes
into the ashtray.
Her memories could stretch so
far back, before this life even.
Yet she knew that what she knew
wasn't really very much at all.
Maybe he really loved her? Who knew?
For her it was only a situation.
She wondered if they'd remember
to take their shoes off at the door.
Her feelings could easily be hurt,
but on the other hand she often
neglected to express herself.
At half past five she'd put supper
on the table. They would sit around it.
Her family sharing the same table
and the same bathroom. Distance.
They were mutually ignorant of
each other.
She put out her cigarette, light another.
She wasn't afraid of cancer, just living.
Working man would be home soon,
right after the kids demanded home.
Sighing she stood up and pushed
the cat away with her foot, irritated.
Checked her purse. Bingo markers
neatly labelled. Another Friday night
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 9:41 PM UTC
you are silence.
unless you want to speak
you are absence
it renders me so weak
you are avoidance
my desolation breeds
for you to water my dreary seeds
and you don't even observe
how you restrain my nerves
cold and still
you weaken my will
my soul falls ill
not healing until
you give in to the thrill
of not wanting to be alone
and you slice me to the bones
and all over again
my reality is blurred
confusion, moments ago slain
cries of slaughtered isolation heard
only to retort, only to return
cycle of hunger & wanting, i yearn
growing bleak from your unconcern
needing, not receiving enough
aching for that deeper touch
needing anything, needing too much
because of nothing, eagerness as such
i will stop melting, and find a way
to become a part of your grey
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
***
*no where
you will find
such pain as when
your beloved one
ignore you and
become unconcern
infect it is
much more
deep and intense
than a huge fire burn
ignorance
in love
is just like
the blooming thorn
in fact whenever
our feeling hurts
by our dear one
the fearfulness
becomes
stubborn*
***
@ deovarat- 18.05.2019
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 9:35 AM UTC