"unconvinced" poems
Feeling unhappy;
that I'm not good enough
Unconvinced and in despair,
Disbelief in my own
act and decisions
I am doing the best I could
to meet the expectations;
thus I am frustrated
Why am I putting
a lot of pressure on myself
just to seek attention?
I am trying hard
until gratified
Why am I still unfulfilled?
In fact, I am scared
I fear that I may fail
and may not reach satisfaction
It feeds my self-doubt
perhaps I am good-for-nothing
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 12:10 PM UTC
This feeling I have that drags my spirit
And I indulge in its lowly zest out of habit
My feet they move in a trudge like manner
Shoulders hunched inwards non receptive to splendour.
How heavy it is in my heart I weep
For a life been dealt in a single, swift sweep
Cards that has been dealt from aeons past
Oaths recited loudly so that they would last.
Amidst the crowd of mask-faced happiness
Unconvinced, I slipped past unfound lest I be careless.
Discomforted in what on this path may lie
Discontented as such that my heart whines a cry.
Rigidity of routine when sensibility took over
Bruised bad and battered well my heart tumbled after
It felt like it's the end of my dream laden days
Reality sinks in, picks on my heart and there it stays.
I don't want to leave my coveted dreamscape
I don't want to destroy my only means of escape
On the ***** of fantasy, forever I want to stay
But it's crumbling away alarmingly like sun beaten clay.
I deceive my heart into thinking that there's still hope
Truth is I may have come to the end of the rope
Heart wants to hear a faint whisper of reassurance
Mind chides heart, it judgingly delivers it's sentence.
My cries cannot be heard, a wail of futile pleas
Banging on locked doors for which I don't have the keys
So weak this spirit for it has thus been broken
Morsel by morsel, this hapless soul is being eaten.
This burden I'm carrying seem never to have lightened
It is the dark of this period I wish to have brightened
Someone, anyone help...please show me a way
In this god forsaken pit I do not wish to stay.
However there exists yet a slim little chance
Key to courage is somewhere if I could afford a glance
Chances are that I may never even find it
I'll be trapped in a hole in which I can never truly fit.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:16 AM UTC
*"If you wake up this morning believing that saying
a few Latin words over your pancakes will turn them
into the body of Elvis Presley, you have lost your mind."*
He has often asserted that the thing is absurd:
that someone who does not (whether out of hatred, indifference,
lack of conviction, or frankly whatever)
accept traditional dogmas
is still, for some reason, capable of wishing that they could.
I think he is right; I’ve heard a staunch atheist say “If only
I could, but I cannot.” So, this is why he aligns himself
as an anti-theist: he simply
was never properly convinced.
This position seems (at least to me) well-supported,
for anyone can quite readily (and easily)
accept what their father or their clergyman has said
(especially as a child, not knowing any better).
Thus, to be an atheist
one must have first acknowledged supernatural power
and then later, after a bit of thought, dismissed it. In light
of this, I propose a toast to the Real Skeptic,
the one who was never really convinced;
of it. The one who, when celebrating the Eucharist,
wondered why God wanted to be eaten,
who , when receiving Christ,
thought of the extreme certainty by which other faiths'
devotees (Islam, Heaven's Gate,
Mormonism, Bon,
Cargo Cults, Shinto, Falun Gong)
live and preach – some even delighted to die.
Thoughts like these always made me feel uneasy as a child
because how could I hope to keep my little mind
from accidentally discovering fallacy after fallacy? So, here is a toast
to the Unconvinced, who can’t possibly help but not believe.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 3:47 PM UTC
i cannot believe how long its been
*yet still i love every piece of you*
i tell myself you felt the same way
you didn't mean to hurt me
not every word you spoke was a lie
but still i am unconvinced
what if
what if you did hurt me on purpose
would i still love you
...i would
it's a thought i cannot bear
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 1:29 AM UTC
He told me I could search the world over and I would never find anything anywhere quite like him
I'm a Leo
So I took that as a challenge and headed out on a journey
I returned to his door two and a half years later triumphant
When he opened his door I stated with pride "I did it!"
"Prove it." he demanded quietly leaning against his door frame, looking, both intrigued and unconvinced.
I took off my back pack, set it on the step, reached in, carefully withdrew a mason jar and passed it to him.
"What's this?" he asked
"You."
"It's an empty mason jar."
"It's not at all empty. It's filled to the brim with all the stuff you're made of."
"Oh? What kind of stuff?"
" Inside that bottle is the magic of a rainbow I found in Greenland, star light I found in the North West Territories, wind from each of the four corners, air that's been caressed by butterfly wings from St. Lucia, sun beams from Samoa, the innocence of a newborn from Uruguay, the passion of a gypsy from Romania, the heat of a thunder bolt from South Carolina, the fragrance of the first bloom of summer from England, the poetic joy of Ireland, and one salty tear of a mermaid from Fiji. You." I said again triumphantly
"All that's in here, eh?"
I nodded.
"Well, you must be tired, being right can be exhausting." he said with a grin as he reached out for my hand
"It is and I am." I admitted placing my hand in his
"Would you like to come in?"
" Yes, I would like to come in. I'd like that very much."
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 2:52 PM UTC
The corridors are long with no diversions
The way in which we walk is already known,
Turn and go back will only hinder distance covered
Forward progression burns through the heart.
Whoever watching, why do we lose both ways?
Can we even rise over all the soul piercing strategies?
Take each step for money to be earned
Lose every shred of integrity, or stand still, be kind and wither
into a background number dissolving into the wallpaper of the inoffensive.
The corridor is long, it gets darker and less enticing
The way in which i walk is almost robotic in tone.
The choice to turn back is an illusion believed to exist
but i am unconvinced of this option anymore.
Hide or be hid, the choice is there to be made,
No footprint is allowed to influence, unless the influence is seen to
add to what our leaders have printed in notes.
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 6:38 AM UTC
Don not be afraid to make mistakes,
Mistakes are the best teachers
Who encourage us to learn what is right
from what we did wrong
and mistakes teach a lesson
which we seldom forget
Unconvinced aren't you?
Hello!!!
How many time do you think Albert Einstein tried and adjusted
Tumbled and fell
all the people called him crazy, remember?
but he never stopped trying....
Tell me when he did stop?
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 1:37 PM UTC
Smelling sharp,
Line up in the graveyard.
Throw in your bones.
The pious are the sactified.
Hold the bottle,
Intermittent puddles.
Full of people.
Breathing and suffocating.
Unconvinced thoughts,
Continually misfiring.
That poisonous smell,
That soft ticking.
Pulling me closer,
To the end of the world.
Burn the spires,
Complicated regressions.
Dead mind,
Straight to stone,
Close the door on,
The shadows on the ceiling
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 10:36 AM UTC
Full of cliches,
My words are trapped---twisted
Around and under thick slabbed
Tongue that fumbles
Unconvinced of its syllables.
Smokethoughts cling
Sullen to enamel backs,
Graveyard angels
That smirk at those heavy
Tombstones;
Monument to language’s death.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 12:29 AM UTC
Can someone tell me
What it is
to live?
Dying seems easy,
An every-day event
And like weddings,
or birth,
adorned with flowers,
gifts like love, respect,
and memories,
so many silver spoonfuls
of memories.
Now I have seen it
so many times,
the old,
the young,
the kin,
the stranger...
In war
And peace,
In feast
And famine.
With duty,
with a duty of care,
an onlooker
full of compassion...
every-way
imaginable.
In places undreamed,
In inevitable areas...
In the family pews
On rainy dismal days,
And on the faraway ghats
Before a hot afternoon;
each experience
leaving a feeling
that one shouldn't be there.
Now everyone has packed
and shuffled,
And I have wrung my hands
for the last time,
I tell myself
unconvinced.
Now that everyone
has left me
In this landscape,
I look around
And recognise
nothing.
Age does not matter,
each one
an orphan,
each telling themselves
that it is for the last time...
Lead me away
from that funereal path
where they all are
and are not,
simultaneously;
something else
awaits me, down this byway,
across a different track,
In a different part of the mountain.
Jan 10, 2011
Jan 10, 2011 at 2:47 AM UTC
**Each day passing by in a wild-eyed dash
In truth my soul fell aside, but bluer birds still doth call
Missed that cardinal harken when I set down my last two cents
Kickers of tricks, scroll-ers of myth, bottlers of ships
Knew it all along, just couldn’t stiff the rest
Refuse to capitol, refuge atop the pious politic that steeps these hills
Is it not hard to tell? The meanings of what buys in bulk
The people is we, of what sells slicker than plot itself
A minority rule, hid reasons from majority fooled
That is working trade class, taught to chain drive
The gleaming sheen glowing green, crowning jewel¬¬¬ is as mist and steam, fleeting as the wash of this worlds seething seas
We, the misanthrope of being, bloom in the warmth of idea
Only to recede at the water mark high of each our lives
Authenticity bless the distant time, costless venture to each about die, salute through another caesars’ dilated eye a definition
Eons in annunciation; immortality flashing by
Reverence cannot lie, not long at least neathe a chipping patina
Gold leafed by the hand of man, coerced creations’ fondling finger tips strips thin, leaving us then to watch the weathering
Not a one may ever remember for too quickly or too timely
Arrives dismemberment, a cyclic certainty, often relegated falsely
As loss or gain, truly misspoken frames for reference
At any given attempt to render the language of tongues, oh speaker the son of the morning shamelessly ****** by predecessors increasingly lavish
Phonemic savage; life running rabid, splicing love over the atom
The simple one whom tends a patch of what he calls “cabbage”
Knowing always the wordless truth that is his field fallowing
Unconvinced by everyone, save himself if nothing else
Penitent candor dangle, frameless wonder can you hear the thunder?**
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 2:44 PM UTC
A tiny devil lands
on my shoulder;
having no counter-
part, she stands
and, as I walk
at rabbit's pace
to the old place
where we used to talk,
she drags from
her cigarette,
flicking it,
hum-drum.
"He ain't comin',"
she says,
and ashes
on my neck.
"Don't need him,"
I lie--should lie
down to die,
but light up instead.
Unconvinced,
she scoffs at me.
"Then what do you need?"
And a dreadful wind
slithers through
the fissure,
icy, bitter.
"I don't need you."
The woods, too
are dead, like us--
a Winter-sheared husk
through and through.
You'll come, I hope,
leaning over
the grove, or
maybe I don't.
You'll come, I hope,
leaning over
the grove, or
maybe you won't.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 12:22 AM UTC
When I was fifteen, I took a Health class and got "the talk,"--
(it's not what you're thinking because this is Tennessee).
It started with the boys and girls being separated and
mass-confusion ensued like bees who lost their queen--
(despite being female, I'm still scared of ***** diagrams).
Our speaker's name was Mary, but I think that was faked.
We were fed PG-rated and legally mandated information
about how our bodies are meant for HUSBANDS ONLY--
(joke's on her, half of my diet consists of Taco Tuesday).
Mary guided us through the "exciting changes" of our body
only to declare quite firmly that *** doesn't even feel good"--
(unless you're married, of course, because your holes are holy).
And yet
I was
unconvinced.
And thus began my intrinsic journey of "pearl-hunting."
After all, if it didn't feel good with my hand, I couldn't
imagine what a **** would do for me and, boy oh boy,
that woman was so WRONG **** on that, Mary).
But I digress, because I confess, I never really even
gave my ******** a second thought before I took an
ABSTINENCE CLASS.
Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 10:07 PM UTC
*You are no longer
a child
innocent or forgiven.*
*Slower now,
dreams have taken flight
with butterflies
and *****
thrown beyond your reach.
No longer child-bright,
you stand in court
where age
grows upon the wall
and eats the air.*
*Your shadow lingers
frightened at the door
unconvinced
then bounds away
to chase a dream.*
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC
We’re peripheral.
Bystanders rubbernecking
as our bodies commit
high treason.
Too caught in the frenzy we've created
to count the mounting casualties,
we remain unconvinced
of our burgeoning criminality.
We accelerate to keep ourselves from breaking,
shift gears and clutch
to these moments
just to feel the release.
But when the collisions cease,
we’re pried apart,
torn free by the jaws
of daily life.
As our eyes clear,
the sirens sound
and the wreckage
overwhelms us.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 2:45 PM UTC
i am not just a pretty face and i am not just my sadness.
i am a question that has no answer.
i am a more than a collection of mistakes. i am a collection of words and photographs and more than a few good stories.
i am laughter and sarcasm and tears. a rebel with a forgotten cause.
i am compassion.
i am at once caring too much and too little. the world has never been enough for me.
i am forever picking up the pieces, forever apologizing even when i’m right.
i am a collision of mind and circumstance. a million bad memories set on repeat.
i am one long, sad requiem. i am the soundtrack to my days.
i am dismal, haunting images of regret. i strive to be part of the beauty around me.
i am a writer. i am a free mind with a shackled soul.
i am no one’s enemy and no one’s friend. i am alone and always have been.
i am jealousy and fear.
i am disappointment to myself and to those who knew me then.
i am a wrong turn and a snap decision.
i am selfish and guilty and i don’t know why.
i am unconvinced of everything. i am doubtful, disheveled, and disproportionately hopeful.
i am a creator of life and a healer of ills. i cry every day for what i’ve lost.
i am forever searching and i’ll never find it. i take comfort in the thought of the universe.
i am but a fleeting phantasm in this brief reality
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 1:49 AM UTC
You sneered at me because you thought I'd lied
and stared at me through drunken eyes of pain,
then waved me off as I tried to explain.
You turned away, just shook your head and sighed,
still unconvinced that I had not a clue
where she had gone since I had left her here.
You drove away, your taillights disappeared
into the driving snow, the wind that blew.
The same snow broke your fall as you collapsed,
but couldn't keep your temple from the bruise
that showed up three days later as you lay
in state but not in peace. I think I snapped;
I spoke to you, 'twas Dylan's words I used:
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears I pray.
Jan 17, 2011
Jan 17, 2011 at 2:01 PM UTC
As Children of The Almighty,
we have the God-given ability
to rise up, without the shame
of knowing who we really are,
despite our souls’ fragility.
Have we been taught and shown
Love, Mercy, Grace, Forgiveness
and Peace that we require daily?
So what is holding us back now,
from overcoming this human mess
of feeling inadequate or ignorant?
About 90% of The World is headed
towards Hell, unconvinced about
the legitimacy of the Christian
Lifestyle, whereby God’s embedded
His Presence and power is in us.
We’re not meant to be superfluous,
seeing that we’re supposed to be
both the hands and feet of Christ.
So The World remains nonplussed,
plagued by their own doubts, which
is reinforced by our poor treatment
of them; our continued failures to
walk in Love, reflects our inability
to thrive with joyous contentment.
.
.
.
Author notes
Inspired by:
Luke 10:19; Eph 1:3-141 Cor 12:27;
Rom 12:9-21; Matt 5:13-16
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 1:34 PM UTC
As the World
turns
I can hear the world
Yearn
They're unruly and desperately
reck-less
seeking for love on ever-
lasting
terms
But they proceed with no concern
they're unable to discern or
learn
Not heeding the many
warnings and dan-
gers
Unaware of the many
forces that lin-
ger
Now as we stand by idly
as we witness
this cruel state of
Ig-nor-ance
We're losing our
Innocence
instead of making sense
of what's
going on
Unconvinced
of the shapes that are
taking form
We're miss-in-
formed
sowing the seeds to breed the
Devil's
Spawn
Provoking violence within the
mindset
of the spiritually blinded
While letting our
Silence
speak the truth
of the spirits that blind
Us
Reminding us
of where we Fail
A rude awakening
outa the
Spell
Snapping outa the
Trance
of being frozen in a
mea-ning-less
stance
For our only chance to
Survive
Is to thrive in our
circumstance
Moving on in advance
observing Truth
Learning to pro-
gress
As we focus in our aims
to Arrest
these
developments of
Carnality
We're pulling down the
Devil's
Faculty
Exposing Principalities
wherever
they
may
Be
Mar 29, 2022
Mar 29, 2022 at 11:46 PM UTC
I try and try and try again
I don't know why I do!
I know that some things never change
Because some things never do
Romance and passion and love in my words
Unconvinced you I will get in return.
I'm trying to tell you, I'm trying to say
But you just won't listen, heart is blocking your brain
You like someone bad for you
You know that I'm good
You know that I tell you
I'm not misunderstood, but you just won't change it
Your vision and views! they're crowded with irrelevance and nonsense and too many feelings that you don't really have! You don't love someone else, you're just feeling bad, and lonely, and confused
I know how you feel, To be used like this
I don't know why it appeals, he's being ruthless
Not sparing a thought, he's in it for fun, if he'd change his ways, I'd feel better for one, for seconds I'd stop because you'd be happy, and I still think that this love **** is sappy and silly because you just need a hug
I'm not conceited but it's me you would love.
You want some romance, I'll be there for you
I'll give you flowers and hugs and kisses too
I'd be the best and caring and sweet, and when the mood is right
I'd sweep you off your feet.
You've never known someone as amazing as me, I'm sweeter than sugar
But don't put me in tea, I'm stuck in a sea of worries and doubts, my brain is on fire, my tears are putting it out.
I think rationally the way to explain, you're walking on thin ice
you're in the devils domain, come closer to heaven
come closer to me
We don't need to die to be together silly.
We could be living and happy as anyone
Just give me a chance, all i'm asking is one
Maybe a week and then you'll realise
That I may be short
but my heart opens wide and i'll increase in size
personality-wise
to be just what you need
all of the time
Do what you will
I'll wait anyway
Hopefully soon
I'll get my day
When it's my chance to woo you
And soothe you, so sweetly
and give you what you want, need, and desire completely...
I don't mean to drone on, this poem ain't sappy
I'm saying what I'm saying because I'll make you happy
It wouldn't be a problem if he could too
I have your best interests in mind, not mine
For you, are more important to me than myself.
Sep 9, 2010
Sep 9, 2010 at 5:22 PM UTC
in history, when hen and then again, east and west become alike, the h and h of what's current, and when science encompasses trigonometry of the threes, with waving doubles of the u, and the chance graphic of x, y, z expansion; sometimes it's not what's about to be lived, but rather what's to be understood.
i'm alluding to, i'm not deluded by,
but then what's sanity
if a haystack rather than a pitchfork is,
with the concept of reincarnation appropriated
for educational purposes?
don't look at me to manage the immortals'
puppet strings; if his highness would
kindly like to stop hanging
on the four winds
and re-enter the tetragrammaton
from his holy tetracursus
ambitions - another day
brought into night with a flick of the hand -
yes, down from the cross;
expanding as he has no wonder
the Indians and the Chinese
are unconvinced crafting a likeness not akin
to lions but to ants - thus they number
happily without existential concerns -
not a single number partaking in ambivalent
sales of a hundred years like it was eternity;
it's just a t-shirt, i was just
a ****** tourist, look,
i'm wearing umbro jogging trousers,
a dressing-gown, and a t-shirt
with a Maltese cross of the Hospitallers
on it... that's all;
and if the Eiffel tower was the first
structure to topple the height of the pyramids
of Giza... i'm not surprised by the dark ages...
imagine building a skyscraper with
only two rooms in it... i've stood under
the Eiffel tower... it's scary to think
of the pyramids and the glorification of
man about to be buried
with a reverse anatomy of
being ****** out dry and not become
an ***** donor, when a simple engraving would
suffice - you know, the more human
you become (i.e. age), the more bewildered
you become by the body you're stored in
rather than the things outside of you
in what's called the universe paradoxically
to no known unity among man.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 7:15 AM UTC
I'm mad at God
I've never been mad at him before
Always understanding and patient
I never questioned the purpose of the pain
The purpose of pain
I'm sure there is one
but I am tired
It is the same thing and I find myself trapped in a cycle of insanity
What is the purpose? What is the lesson? What am I missing?
I'm mad at God
Maybe mad is the wrong word
Frustrated. Hurt. Exhausted. Angry.
But not mad.
Its not so much a place of casting blame
but rather "what do you want from me!?"
How much longer will I have to endure?
How much longer will I have to cry out?
When will I see an answer?
You don't play mind games
and yet I am currently unconvinced of this
Unconvinced I have received any sort of healing
only led to believe so
"I don't know" has been a phrase I've said the most
So yes perhaps I am mad at God.
I don't know what else to feel when one is falling apart, even if they are falling into place.
The pain is still the same.
May 6, 2024
May 6, 2024 at 10:56 PM UTC
When gunmetal streets begin to fade into jazz
My soul walks cool, unafraid into jazz
There are dissonant holes in the sky tonight
The world seems at once to cascade into jazz
The old district buzzing with ambition’s jam
Each dancer's alchemy turns suede into jazz
And the city lights stiff with rigor mortis
Revived into blues, then swayed into jazz
Windows begin flooding unassuming streets
First timid, the passersby wade into jazz
Some to their ankles, unconvinced of the rhyme
Others shun inhibition and parade into jazz
Their excitement displaced by a mellow groove
Miles Davis lilts above, casting shade into jazz
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
James and I just like sharpening our minds
iron on iron, and tonight we brag
we have evolved past the struggle for life
then tiny drops of red
shotgunned and glittered on the deck
silence, like a stalking cop
catches us off guard, saunters up the stairs
and points at the blood mist on the floor
then more, more sprays from our heaving friend
wrenched over a stolen desk
hacking at red roots in her throat
then drawing in her breath
through the gravel in her neck
sputters in a bubbling little choke
stillness is broken by her hand, batting,
at the sticky scarlet strings ******* on her chin
It’s just Redvines, guys
we hear it, unconvinced
eyes still stuck to a splatter of stained saliva
where something confident had been spit
but dribbled like a weakness from her lips
but after she had wiped clean
the candy bleeding from her teeth
we lit and toasted a smoke to long life and to health---
if on us it depends
may it never come again.
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 6:20 AM UTC
Janice helped you
to gather up
the loose pieces of coal
on the cobbled road
leading to the coal wharf
off Meadow Row
you watched as she put
the pieces in the sack
you’d brought with you
as the evening mist
settled upon the scene
her red beret placed
at an angle
her hair
smooth as water
is this allowed?
she asked
looking around
at the back of houses
still standing after
the wartime bombing
finders keepers
you said
or so Granddad told me
the other week
when I saw him
she gazed at you
unconvinced
but put in more
of the black pieces
you handed to her
what will my gran say
when she sees
my blackened hands?
Janice said
I can’t tell her
or she’ll tan my hide
as she calls it
you looked
at her coal stained fingers
the way they held
and placed the coal
you can wash your hands
at my place
you said
Mum won’t mind
she likes you anyway
Janice looked at you
her lips spreading
into a smile
nice to know
she said
maybe when we’re grown
and married
she’ll like me better
the sky had darkened
the mist heavy
the moon glowing
I guess so
you said
wondering if her gran
would see it that way
if she lived
to see the day
that should be enough
coal now
you said
taking the sack
from her blackened hands
noticing the thin fingers
she rubbing her hands
together against the cold
the dark
and winter weather.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 3:23 PM UTC