"undemanding" poems
Jade is very lucky man
a man people treat with value
a man people will **** for
A man people cherish
A man with everyhtig anyone could wish for,
A man of value, life, happiness.
A man people will do anything to get
Jade is a very unlucky man
A man with no life.
A man of no understanding of life
a simple stone
a man that has no experience of life
A proud man who just waits for people to fight for it
A man who indirectly kills
A man with no thoughts or imagination for he is treated like a god
Jade is created by humans, nourished by humans and destroyed by human
What an unlucky man jade is
However, jade has a very undemanding life
he does not have to obey any human being
it is not obliged to any human
free, easy and peaceful.
Jade is a man that is lucky
Jade is a man that is unlucky
Jade is a man with an undemanding life
because it has no breathe like that of a man
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 8:12 PM UTC
For instance, recall daisies,
or if you have not seen one, so much the better.
Paint me a crass picture and sleep
on the shallow crevasse. Stilt through
the orchard and search there: nothing still.
Even the nothingness is form-fitting, and thus,
your vestigial image of daisies. Mold something
out of the vacuity, and there a retrograde sculpture
will wind back to clay. Cornerstones have your name,
and your name even so, has taciturnly placed stones.
Stones. These tiny bodies that lay, undemanding,
scourged by the rapid passage of a carriage.
I wait there, with them, still thinking of daisies.
I know of a child, cylindrically obtuse, in front of the mirror.
Have you seen yourself in the hazy windows
of the Metro? What do you see? I still see daisies.
Or people with heads of daisies. But remember your
forethought of daisies? They are nothing. I am a beheaded daisy
in the lackadaisical wind of Summer. There is nothing to gain
here but the sadness of cold passing. And the child that I am speaking
of, his name, Magno. Sturdy like the rucksack he’s carrying,
lovelessly trundling altogether with the pipes and the
handrails, almost signaling the alarm without warning.
This uncared-for sultry evening decides to splinter
itself against the masses. Again, the daisies appear to me,
this time, in heady form rogue with peripatetic fragrance.
Magno used to unearth daisies and give them to her
mother when he was stiflingly young – he hustled through
the carefully placed furniture. Whatever happened to him,
I know not. And just like the daisies we have come to know now,
trains that do not belong to anyone, and the daisies too, that go
unheard of and unknown to the behest of the city,
have gone into the subtle beginning of everything
that once started in itself, the form of splendor. Nothing.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 3:27 AM UTC
It has to be said that
I've always thrived in dives
And stumbled in polite society
You see, I tend to talk too much
And laugh in all the wrong places
These modern eternals hate me
Because I smoke and I'm still alive
And I constantly smell of tobacco
So I'll stick to the dives
And the undemanding low-lifes
Who, like myself
Simply do not care
By Phil Roberts
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 12:54 PM UTC
Ms. Love & Mr. Understanding -
They go together like
The mists of love & misunderstandings.
Ms. Love was 15, Ms. Love woke up
Now Ms. Love is 25 with no one to love
Except memories of yesterday, once upon a far away
She met a boy - same old story - now he's gone and now he's all she
Wants – but they both have moved on
Yeah they both have moved on…
Or haven't they?
Dan understanding understated undemanding
Underwhelmed to find his hand in hand in hand with Beatrice Blanding
She's a nice girl in the right world and though she may not be the right girl
She loves him dearly
And he loves her… nearly
But is it nearly enough?
Looking for love behind all the wrong doors
Like you came into the bedroom and forgot what you came for -
Is it something different, is it more of the same?
Was it someone else, or is it me again?
Dan understanding gives Ms. Love a call
He says I've missed too much of your life already I can't miss it all
Oh, what say you wanna play? I'm on a train I'm round your way
I'm up to here with being brave, I want to see what life could have been
Do you know what I mean?
Do you mind if I lean in and…
Kiss you?
Looking for love behind all the wrong doors
Like you came into the bedroom and forgot what you came for
Is it something different, is it more of the same?
Was it someone else, or is it me again?
Ms. Love & Mr. Understanding -
They still go together like
The mists of love & misunderstandings.
Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 6:29 AM UTC
Thank you
For thinking i’m funny
thank you
For catering to my whims
Thank you
For being undemanding
Thank you
For being a gentleman
Thank you for caring
Thank you
For sharing
Thank you
For being honest
Thank you
For letting me swear
Thank you
For letting me be faithless
Thank you
For bringing me calm
Thank you
for letting me love you
I just wish I could be her
Jun 30, 2010
Jun 30, 2010 at 3:58 AM UTC
And then I asked,
“What is love really?
Why does everyone keep talking about it?
And is it really worth it?”
No one answered,
There was no one to answer,
The question dissolved in thin air,
I was left alone to ponder,
It was a long lonely walk,
But it always worked that way,
You can achieve the best at your worst,
But it’s always good to have someone by your side
And then it dawned on me,
Like a cool breeze in summer,
And warmth on your darkest winter night,
It came as a relief to my train of thoughts
It’s not love that I yearn,
It’s the passionate company that I seek,
Undemanding, faithful, ever beautiful, and unending,
It silently grew on me and crumbled my beliefs
“Why is it so difficult to find such a love then?
Is it not there or I don’t know where to find?
The quest is unsettling and I am on the edge, just about to fall,
Am I doing it all wrong?”
And something in me echoed, it does not come to people who hurry,
It is a game of give and take,
Wait for it to happen, when it does, its brightness shall outshine the sky,
And trust my dear child; it will stay with you forever.
-Natasha
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 10:41 AM UTC
I am just a name
No money, no claim to fame
Just an ordinary guy
Who holds his head high!
You can count me as any
One among the countless many
Just another face in the crowd
Who has not stopped being proud!
You may ask why the vanity
You can pity the humble's dignity
Not knowing the true measure
Of the possessions in my treasure!
I have a richly simple life
An undemanding girl as a wife
My heart she really does win
She's a woman no boasting queen!
We have a son (a daughter it could be)
A bubbly one that babbles in glee
I don't mind missing the sunrise
We see it every moment in his eyes!
I have a house with little to show
But a patch of blue from window
And a backyard so cutely thin
To barely hold a streak of green!
But it's not the house so much
The wonder is my wife's magic touch
That tides whatever the weather
And keeps our home together!
So you know dear reader my mate
The key of my pride the secret
With all the world's wealth on my side
Shouldn't I bear myself with pride?
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 6:38 AM UTC
She smiles at me
Sitting there everyday
If only I knew who she was
She smiles at me
Pale skin bathed in light
Her eyes ask me to stay
If only I knew who she was
Scared to shatter my delusion
Silence holds me there
She smiles at me anyway
Swallow my fear
She sits there wordlessly pleading
Take my hand and look at me
What am I to say?
Another test?
The past wasn't enough?
Dark hair flowing
Her grace undemanding
If only she would stop smiling at me
Close my eyes
Wishing she'd disappear
Close my eyes
Wishing I was nearer
Walk up to her
Her twinkling innocence imploring
Sit by her side and
Whisper
Why do you torment me?
Are you only in my head?
Is your smile the truth
Or just another radiant lie?
She smiles at me
With ruby red lips parted
An image of purity
long thought departed
If only I knew who she was
She gets up with ease
but with a strength unseen
Surely she is salvation
My perfect illusion
Please don't leave
Ive gotten used to you
Grab her hand
Cracks like glass
Grasping at the breeze
I'm sitting alone
She smiles at me
From far beyond
Safe in my minds eye
I know who she is
Finally im free
Open my eyes
And smile
...He smiles at me
Sitting there everyday
If only I knew who he was...
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 3:13 PM UTC
I was too short, too awkward.
My belly too bloated, arms too thick.
It got so I couldn't harness my desire.
But I could make my stomach flat,
I could let those hip bones protrude.
Learning to control all my desires,
Discovering a new intimacy,
Which required no one.
I was terrified at letting in someone else,
Into my imperfect, hateful world.
It was me, just only me,
Who could control my cravings, my desire.
Denying myself food, proof that I was stronger,
Better than most people,
though still lonely for touch,
Still my own stiff regimen.
Trading my new-found power of flesh,
For something more trustworthy,
Something pure.
Naturally skinny,
But not dangerously so.
I trod the line between waif and child,
Hunger became my salvation.
Hunger, my sexless, undemanding suitor,
My only constant friend.
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 5:56 PM UTC
My night, under opaque wraps, collects my candid questions —
unkept before the walls crept back up on me and
crammed my thorough thoughts
into sufficient suffocation and disallowed my dislocation
from total cerebral closure —
and covers cognative wonders with a dense fence-like stone cure.
The clean-cut cold sheets, tucked beneath the bed springs
spring my curiosity through layer after layer
of teeming tides of blockades and prohibition
but someone sits at the edge of the road, just before crack
drops to cliff and he catches my despair, tangled in the rye, and
before my in-experience allows me to cry,
he hurls my candid questions back my way and continues
my disallowance of detaching myself from purity.
But despite his baseball mitts, he can’t catch my verbal fits
so I scream, “My wants can’t be blocked forever and Holden,
I’m holding onto my life for the sake of avoiding strife with you but
celibacy of the mind can only lead to our true demise.”
He looks me in the eyes, scared he’d been outdone,
so he tries to run but the cliff leaves him hanging and
I reach for his undemanding hand that swats my offer
with a backwards hat.
But his fear subsides in his recollection of his misinterpretation of
a silly old poem that led him to believe he could catch our innocence.
So wear your hat straight, Holden, ‘cause in the rye,
you’re not the groundskeeper, but keep your ground and
catch yourself before you fall off the cliff and lose yourself
in your selfless tantrums and your disregard for your need for wondering.
Let me break through my caul, ‘cause it’s burning of decay and
I’ve overstayed my welcome in this amniotic gate, devoid of vitality,
and I like my life in my own hands, so I’ll tell you now:
I’m holdin’ on, Holden. Get a grip and hold on, yourself.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
Standing in the middle of the street, the sky black and starless, it is late, but the night is filled with possibility as drizzling raindrops reach down to kiss our cheeks and noses and eyelids
I see nothing but you
My eyes locked tightly to yours, everything around us is still and quiet as more rain trickles down and a gentle breeze swifts through the air
We don't pay regard to any of it because the only thing that matters is the fixed gaze our eyes hold as our arms are fastened tightly around each other
We cannot look away, captivated by the other's presence
We are completely immersed in the moment when you finally open your mouth to whisper something softly to me
We both lean forward, letting the splendor of the moment take control, pulling us closer and closer to each other until our lips touch for the first time, forming perfectly to each other, molding feelings into the movements of our mouths locked tightly together
A voice cries out inside of me, aching with desire and composure, saying, "Never let go, hold me tight''
We pull away in a modest state of shock due to the enchantment of the anticipated and formal rendezvous of the two compelling and winsome pairs of our lips
Our eyes are once again riveted to each other, and twinkling grins have effortlessly manifested across both of our spry and inviting faces
I can feel the exuberance and elation of the moment beaming between us as your hands reach up to gently grasp each side of my face and your thumbs softly caress each of my cheeks
I could swim in the looming sensation and passion for eternity
Our lips meet again, my insides fluttering, slowly igniting with a feeling no words can describe, a feeling I yearn to seal into a jar for safe keeping and hold next to my warm and beating heart forever
It all feels intrinsic, natural, as if we have been doing it for ages
And I feel whole and beautiful, hoping we never have to let go
Kissing you is an easy thing, it feels comfortable, undemanding
It feels safe, making it seem we are one entity
Like we are two bodies with two hands and two pairs of lips but one soul and one heart
And I cannot help but wonder if this is the person I have been longing for and anticipating my entire life, dreaming of and wondering if we would ever meet
I cannot force myself to break your gaze or my body to move away from yours, feeling whole and beautiful once more
Our lips touch for the last time and then pull away timidly,
Longing for each other
Hoping to meet again
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 3:53 PM UTC
I didn’t plan it
Still a thought emerged
The seas opened
And the skies roared
The ship rocked
And an island emerged
An invite was extended
Making acceptance more tempting
Wonder if you would be mad
Confused, angry or sad
Impulsive it may be
But chronic it always was
Sometimes it’s probably easier to give in
A painless route, an undemanding path
Just need to turn the steering wheel fast
Yet, I want a link to you
You are my invisible life vest
My anchor when the sea is violent
However, I fear that one day I’ll break free
I dread one day I’ll leave you behind and
I guess that’s what’s makes it interesting.
I'm anxious of my will to escape
My temptation to run far far away
I guess I'll just hold on tight for now
And pray for a silver lining to make its way somehow
Jun 27, 2021
Jun 27, 2021 at 5:59 PM UTC
sometimes i wish
that we were closer,
as we have been
as close as can be
but i think we
are true friends
because we don’t
need each other
between exchanges
and celebrate
each other
with undemanding love
when we do
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 6:35 PM UTC
There's a ripple in the stratosphere
of undemanding attention
Creaking slowly across the floorboards
of consciousness and breaking down
wooden doors of inhibition.
Never has the lonely animal
sat so silently, secretly shushing
servant saints.
Window pains of repression
allow silent searches of what life looks like outside
but the windows remain unbroken.
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
It has to be said that
I've always thrived in dives
And stumbled in polite society
You see, I tend to talk too much
And laugh in all the wrong places
These modern eternals hate me
Because I smoke and I'm still alive
And I constantly smell of tobacco
So I'll stick to the dives
And the undemanding low-lifes
Who, like myself
Simply do not care
By Phil Roberts
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 8:27 AM UTC
It has to be said that
I've always thrived in dives
And stumbled in polite society
You see, I tend to talk too much
And laugh in all the wrong places
These modern eternals hate me
Because I smoke and I'm still alive
And I constantly smell of tobacco
So I'll stick to the dives
And the undemanding low-lifes
Who, like myself
Simply do not care
By Phil Roberts
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 9:54 AM UTC
even to hold a piece of a cigarette, people be staring at you like you're a rascal.
even to buy a piece of cigarette, people be staring at you like you're depressed.
even to smoke a piece of cigarette, people be staring at you like you're nothing but an innominate kid.
aside from being given the badge of being privileged well-being, and fulfilled the standard of life, neither smoking could be the best druthers.
therefore, she went undercover, caught a paper, and rolled it into a form of cigarette. the undemanding shape.
she imagined,
she felt,
she wondered,
the great feeling that emerged when one blow smoke escaped out of the stick, thought up all the life's crises gone in a blow.
just a blow.
Aug 6, 2020
Aug 6, 2020 at 3:03 AM UTC
It has to be said that
I've always thrived in dives
And stumbled in polite society
You see, I tend to talk too much
And laugh in all the wrong places
These modern eternals hate me
Because I smoke and I'm still alive
And I constantly smell of tobacco
So I'll stick to the dives
And the undemanding low-lifes
Who, like myself
Simply do not care
By Phil Roberts
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 11:05 AM UTC
What if?
The scratch of my pen fills the room up with sound.
Silent- they've all left.
And as his blue sweatshirt receded last behind the glass
I heaved a sigh of blissful solitude and desperate relief.
Today is not a day for company.
What if?
I love how every sound in an empty room is loud.
I love how rough and grating my words are
Lent sound they don't possess.
Not meaning but sound, like a rainstorm.
What if?
This morning I woke with a start to muffled birdsong and pale light.
I don't know if I love or hate the morning sun-
It is so unforgiving.
I woke and when I stood up, dazed,
My room was unfamiliar as a crime scene
Full of red and blue splashes and
Bright yellow tape, vivid
But muted like a silent film.
"What if?" I thought,
And I stared at my clothes
Because I'd forgotten what to do with them.
A good long moment passed, holding the cloth,
Thinking that perhaps I was supposed to set it down?
Tie it in knots?
And then instinct kicked in brutal
And I figured it out.
What if?
Now I'm here and Blue Sweatshirt is back.
He is loud and I want to hush him-
It is not a day for speech.
I want to stop the world
Or make it slow like the air is gel,
Dreamy and undemanding.
Distilled, like me, to the skeleton of functionality.
What if?
What if I never see you again?
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 9:17 AM UTC
Get to touch the sky has never been soothing,
I'm still gonna try it hard and even harder....
Reaching the mountains has never been undemanding,
but I've to measure those steep inclinations,
sooner or later...
Whatever it takes to possess the multitude of wisdom,
I need to make it happen,
I'll do everything for it to garner...
It's not so usual to define a new destination
when you achieve one,
we have to keep setting newer ones,
so that our journey doesn't hamper...
People say you are lucky enough
when you find true love,
when you come to know it,
you become luckier and happier...
We need to provide it with the persistence,
once we feel like getting it,
of course,
we need to take it to the harbor...
Love will take it further to next level
and you will achieve everything
and not find your heart shatter...
At times, our goals has to be accompanied
by the loved ones,
in the pursuit to take it farther...
Sometimes we have to parallel our heart and mind,
we may need to make
the dark matter much darker...
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 3:21 AM UTC
Alone in between the right and the wrongs,
Left, alone in this place of darkness and stone,
Below, I belong with the other things left undone,
Unravelled ingenuity becomes,
Anonymous animosity,
Misogynous monstrosity,
Disingenuous duopoly,
Synonymous, settling finally, with simple simplicity,
Not original nor profound,
There’s already been every sound,
Footprints on supposed unhallowed ground,
And yet we still dig down,
Down, down into the depths to find,
The simple thing that is only mine,
Simple thing,
Simple things are not what they seem,
Easy to say, but hard to mean,
Simple things are only so in dreams,
And probably already passim,
It is really nothing, in fact dead,
Everything worth saying has already been said,
And repeated again and again,
And again we try to abstain,
Refrain from replacing by accident,
Disdain and heckler’s haughty contempt,
You were there,
You were where I did not dare,
Unprepared for the lies and despair,
Unaware of the incompatible compared,
The undemanding and the complicated,
Down in the dark I stand illuminated,
Concentrated, concentrated and fully fabricated,
Automated someone manufactured whilst isolated,
Looking for the simple thing to make it all make sense,
Become alone and lost in a fog of thoughts too dense,
Why do you never drive me far?
Because you’re really not my friends,
So do I either throw caution out the car?
Or do I drive you round the bend?
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 5:48 PM UTC
Light
The concept of good, morally sound and just
A thing we rely on, look to and trust
Dark
An evil shadow, lurking behind
The scary, destructive, inner recesses of one's mind
But one cannot function without the other. For in the brightest of lights we see the darkest shades cast on the ground below
And in the dark we see that faint lantern light, illuminated with its glow.
So can we say that pain cannot live without health? That love cannot exist without hate? Joy without sorrow?
To acknowledge that these ideas are a reality
Would make more sense than dismissing them as fallacies
Cause I believe in order to feel happy you need to have been sad
And in order to feel like you've gained you've had to have lost what you had.
People always ask how I can be so understanding
How I can be so patient, kind and undemanding
And I think it's because I've felt pain myself
I've been in sickness and in health
And its not so hard to realize why
No one likes it when someone cries.
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 9:07 PM UTC
I don't know yet
If I can ever be truly happy,
Ever grasp the fleeting experience of
undemanding,
un-wanting,
singular happiness.
And maybe I'm
young,
And maybe it's not
love,
But I think I've seen
what might be
a start,
In your eyes
And in your heart
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 5:03 AM UTC
Falling in love with a stranger is painless
Effortless to adore their smile
It is simple to wish the very best,
For wanting nothing more but their happiness
He is my stranger
But we weren't this distant before
I continue to cherish his smile
Fall again for those soft eyes
He was my lover -
Hands warm and lips warmer
Presently, we are each other's ghosts
Haunting the halls
Disturbing my memories
Troubling his thoughts
I am in love with a stranger
But not any ordinary outsider
He was my best friend
My ghost knows me better than I know myself
Loving a stranger is undemanding
But difficult when that stranger is also your ghost
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC
The Female Migrant
A customs official found a suitcase with a forgotten
Syrian refugee lady in it, he took her home blew life
into her and he was no longer alone.
Bought her **** underwear skirt and blouse and
a bicycle pump and no longer did he bother going out
drinking beer with his fellow officers.
A perfect little refugee she was so undemanding
and silent not for her to turn her back complaining
of a headache and other female ailments.
After wild night they had done it five times, she had
she had shrunk a morning there was a tear somewhere
in her ***** that could not be repaired or glued.
With manly logic, he blamed the refugees swamping his
country living off the fat of the land doing nothing and
thus, a love story ended on the scrap heap of humanity.
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 5:48 AM UTC