"underwhelming" poems
My bf works in Geneva, Switzerland. I go to school in New Haven. We Facetime a lot - but it’s not ideal.
“I wanted to tell you, that it’s been nice.” I told him somberly.
“What do you mean?” He asked after a moment.
“Well,” I began, “You know how I like to go down to the harbor and watch the ocean?” “Yeah,” he answered.
“Well, I was down there this evening and the sun plunged into the sea and it got dark. I think we’re all going to die.”
“Anais, you’re on the east coast,” he reported. “That’s true,” I confirmed (New York’s on the east coast and it’s 60 miles away).
“The sun rises in the east and sets in the west.” He explained. “ocean sunsets only happen on the west coast.”
“Really?’ I said, flabbergasted, “I never noticed that.”
“Yeah,” he reiterated.
“I have a confession,” I admitted, sighing.
“What’s that?” He enquired.
“I made it up, the sun and sea thing,” I admitted.
“For real?” He followed up. “Yeah,” I said. “Why?” he asked.
“Nothing happens, when you’re not here,” I disclosed, “It’s SO dull, I’m dull, I’m afraid of underwhelming you.”
“We’re going to die someday,” he assured me, consolingly.
.
.
songs for this:
I Can’t Remember Love by Anna Hauss
So In Love by k.d. lang
It’s the End of the world as we know it by REM
The end of the world by Skeeter Davis
Apr 20, 2024
Apr 20, 2024 at 9:44 PM UTC
The falling stars in this ironic night
make majesties
out of those cubicle-ridden New Yorkers'
routine Tuesday night daydreams,
where they make macabre escape routes
out of every perfectly-placed window
piercing the concrete sentences
that escalate from Ground Zero.
Your law offices,
corporate ******* headquarters,
are all bursting at the seams
with these drones,
the falling stars of the human race,
all composed of 14 different shades
of grayscale;
could've been
should've been
could've been shootin' stars
that year they were promised
lives of upper middle class incomes
and Lexus dealerships
bought to dent their status
on the neighborhood,
but that sparkle's been emaciated
by the truth,
the underwhelming spectacle of realization
accentuated by the clicking
and the clacking of company keyboards,
each little click
gnawing more at their patience
than the next;
the faceless brush strokes
gawk through that window,
their plans less hypothetical
over the calendar years.
"I can hear it calling me
from miles away,"
says Copy #90045280,
"see, they
SPEAK
to me, man,
tell me to transcend
the hurdle of the windowsill
and make my rendezvous
with an asphalt avenue,
to join the other casualties
of this rut-infested nation
in a life with the real stars,
falling and shooting
and jettisoning alike,
throbbing lights through dark sky silk
and into the hearts of even the most
robotic of this catalog culture,
and I frightfully,
excitedly,
must listen."
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:53 AM UTC
My lips hold back the lava in my chest.
The burning, consuming, encroaching destruction is hardening my resolve more than you could have guessed.
I feel so at home in the flames that water is so underwhelming.
It’s the coals I sleep on through everything.
To look so long at the light only to blind myself each time;
You’d think I’d learn my lesson after each rhyme.
I’ve never felt comfort for long enough to recall.
The videos of me laughing are something that now make me bawl.
I don’t know how that feels anymore.
I don’t remember what you sound like or the color of your front door.
Your voice no longer echoes in my head.
Your face no longer plagues me in bed.
I don’t know you outside of memories;
Moments of my time that bite like fleas.
You make me itch still,
A symptom that which the spot can never refill.
I’ve been battling between anger and grief for so long now.
It’s a why; it’s a how.
It’s a feeling I can’t live without.
No matter how hard I try to erase the pressure or smother the intensity, the kindling always relights in this drought.
With a deep breath in, releasing all the smoke back out.
It’s my meditation now.
It’s my medication now.
To smell it on someone else and be engrossed in the poison that this can allow;
My dear, that’s intoxicating for me lately.
A mass we are swallowing with the passing moment cornering us innately.
I don’t partake with my own vessel but I will consume a host so absorbed.
They don’t see me molding my character every time I get bored.
One day I will have the entire puzzle lined up together.
Each piece fitted so perfectly, completely combined in a tether.
They will compose a tale so broken and numb.
That’s the feeling that fills my ****** drum.
Every tear is a bad dream.
Every eyelash is a wish for this story to have a different theme.
Jul 7, 2022
Jul 7, 2022 at 2:02 AM UTC
To kiss someone's lips
Or grab them by the hips
One must enlist
In the power dynamic
Inside every relationship
There are surprises
Of different disguises
I must ignore the lies of
Reachers and settlers
Stalkers and meddlers
Those who are aloof
And those who are goofs
The process never foolproof
When animals hide their hooves
I took that dubious bet
I thought it'd be fun
A game of Russian roulette
With a fully loaded gun
There were unfair rules set
That's how you won
A one hundred percent threat
I'd be hurt a ton
It started effecting my health
When I couldn't be myself
Because my self emulation
Amounted to self immolation
So I sought your consultation
For the vacation
Of placation
But you took advantage
At least from my vantage
I could see your rampage
Straight from the Stone Age
Like a time traveling mage
That summoned a cage
There was a pattern
We kept going around
Like the rings of Saturn
Until I hit the ground
You made me foolishly wait to test me
And then hated when things got messy
Now you claim that you're a blessing
For what you do after **********
You must be jesting
Confidence cresting
Never confessing
Or addressing
The emotional underbelly
You just like to undersell me
Saying that I'm underwhelming
I'm talking to a tundra telling me
That it makes me a better me
Apologizing not part of your plan
You tell me you don't understand
You must think I'm stupid
To treat me so putrid
My patience you've used it
So the dead weight loosened
Once I let go of your noose hand
You come back begging
You incorrectly pegged me
As forgiving not petty
I guess you never met me
Or at least said goodbye to the best me
After never acting on the behest of me
And making me think less of me
You've become a pest to me
Not part of my destiny
Just part of the generic sea
Of those I let be
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 3:23 PM UTC
The Cut-up cut out and cut down The Middle man then cut in while he and his date were dancing
He tried to strike up a conversation but struck out when she struck down upon him blows of reigning rejection
Now The Psychopath and The Sociopath are at odds
The Psychopath thinks The Sociopath is sloppy and his ideas have no longevity
The Sociopath thinks the Psychopath is just having growing pains and need to learn to live a little
The Psychopath was born into this, but the Sociopath was born onto it
The onset of calculated impulses
Contain yourself
Control yourself
Looking at it from an ethnocentric point of view
Entertain the idea that you may be the antisocial one
Humor me on this one
Would a smart person waste hard earned money on an "I'm with Stupid" t-shirt?
Postulate the theory that their are six degrees of separation
That you are a few hellos to someone who is a friend of a friend every way you turn
And that person may or may not rupture the cycled path you've been treading
Told to be prompt
To have good posture
To do regular pruning to our appearances and keep them up
But price and participation always vary
Is it a tad underwhelming or did I speak too soon?
Was it lost in translation?
It's called acorn theory
Not what you came with
Not where you came to
Or even where you come from
But what you came as
And will continue on to be
The hustle and bustle
Packing heat
Flexing muscle
In the big bad city
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
There's a secret men's club,
Of men at the pub,
We are men, we drink beer,
Loud laughter over here,
Slap shoulders, cheers,
We are men, we drink beer,
Bring the barmaid over here,
Let's drink beer, cheers,
Loud laughs and leers,
"I'll give you one, my dear!"
Men laugh, say, "Hear, Hear!"
Chicks walk by smiling,
What are babes thinking?
"Underwhelming,
Have a look at them,
They're no excuse for men!"
Men laugh and don't care,
More beers over here,
There's a secret men's club,
All the men down at the pub.
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 5:00 AM UTC
Love,
is like a forest,
so big, mystifying, and enchanting,
yet,
so evil, dark, and dangerous.
Life,
is like a tree in a forest,
one out of many but individually beautiful, with
amazing aspects
yet,
ordinary, overpowering, or underwhelming.
Friendship,
like a branch on the tree.
a part that makes something, different,
and wonderful,
yet,
differing, imperfect, and vast.
We are a part of the forest.
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 10:17 PM UTC
__|small gee for god; big bee for byron|__
Strikes a chord with you, does it?
This shambling poverty of thought,
Insta-rated and underwhelming;
Thank god for Byron.
__|keats versus shelley|__
Sparing no injury to his phthisicky frame,
Keats lies atop a make-believe of cherry trees
Searching among the clouds
For wealth, health and a Grecian urn,
While Shelley does Venice
And blows himself a hookah.
__|o poesy! for thee I grasp my pen|__
Panning the wayward sky for inspiration,
A hope, a word, a beginning;
A versification so ecstatic as to transfix the senses and pierce the heart,
A lightning phrase capable of uprooting all commonality,
As outrageous a miracle in the minds of men as crucified immortality.
__|requiem|__
Unlike the wilting rose which has no higher calling
Than to bloom and die upon the stem,
And having relinquished its last perfumed petal
Retreat from memory again,
I fear that I shall linger,
Tethered to this eternal moment
By shudd’ring will and breath combined,
A brighter shade of myself than what of me I have left behind.
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 4:21 PM UTC
Your smile creeps off you know,
With no control,
Like you aren't wanting to go,
But there's something unknown,
And with alot of pull,
The voice dismayed with things that haven't happened,
And probably won't,
The slight underwhelming moan,
In a sea of sighs,
You can't try to control,
The glass is normally half full,
But like villains,
only known to the narrator,
Stalks in linens,
And they deploy the daggers,
That don't make any sense,
So you build the fence,
And hope to sleep,
Because when you're up again,
You'll smile at the pen,
know it doesn't make sense,
And that it will happen more,
Just do you're process and apologize,
Saying that there is no control
But realize,
It doesn't matter if it's normal,
It means it will change.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 1:00 AM UTC
Somewhere at the watercourse-
Silvery brume.
Shining through, like pulsing light-
Golden iris are in bloom.
Tongues of brazen flame-
Snap their reflection against the lukewarm mirror-
This is where order looms.
Felicity-
Serenity-
Vestigial depression.
Second guesses-
Underwhelming quests in wrong directions.
Oh elixir. Oh watercourse-
Oh inanimate eloquence.
How you tempt me with your evocative consonance.
You remind me of a woman-
Her husband and her son-
To me you are a drifter-
You remind me of the sun-
You remind me of a king-
of a man with sore eyes-
Mourning late son.
In the mornings sun rise.
Watercourse watercourse-
Lazy eyed shadow.
Left handed perfectionist-
Seething pale shallow.
Watercourse watercourse-
Your body feeds the worms.
Your souls seams have torn.
Watercourse watercourse.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
So grand I always imagined it,
a city beyond the grasp of realism.
Famous in it's own glory
An entity that survives in the hearts of its citizens.
Stories told by those who's hearts it has claimed
are presented in the notes of our music
the pages of our literature
and screens of our TVs.
They plant a craving in our souls for that which we will never find;
the bar is raised higher than any part of this world could reach.
It was supposed to be breathtaking -- it was supposed to make you cry out with glee and wonder.
Excitement so rooted in a determined fist that no restraints could hold it.
But it wasn't that,
in fact, it was the opposite.
So human it seems wrong
unnatural
underwhelming.
Broadway is just another street
Times Square isn't bright enough
The Statue of Liberty is too small.
And it shouldn't be
that
this city,
the city of all cities,
is
underwhelming.
**We can't blame the city,
it's been in our hearts from the first moment we discovered the world.
I realize that we could never see the city's glory the way it's portrayed
until we've learned to love the city from the inside out
until we experience the soul of the culture
the people
the music
the colours
the art that is New York.
Then Broadway will never be just another street
Times Square will be brighter than our most colourful dreams
and the Statue of Liberty could never be
small.
So now I leave you, New York,
with the promise of a new perspective, philosophy, and appreciation
of what you mean to your people.**
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 9:24 PM UTC
I
Pitch black dark, full of wonder
I step outside to leave warm light
The cold air stings my city skin
Silence permeates the night.
In the countryside I stay
Where stars shine their brightest
I look up, full of expectation
It's not fulfilled, not the slightest.
I will not lie, I did see stars
But it was underwhelming, I thought.
6 hours drive away from home
It was all for nought!
In that single moment I aged many years.
I was Disappointed.
Discouraged.
Disheartened.
I went back inside
I was Defeated.
II
Next night, just as black,
just as cold, just as still
I leave the light and creep outside
The dark gives quite a thrill.
I can barely see but I still walk
Soon my eyes adjust
Shadows, treelines, unlit pathways
With time, become robust.
And then I see them.
Stars like tiny pinpricks, materialise
Thousands upon thousands appear
I stand and watch as they arrive
Frozen in awe, not fear.
Yesterday
I was wrong.
I was impatient.
I was naive.
And that's ok.
In that single moment, I aged many more years.
I wasn't Disappointed.
Discouraged.
Disheartened.
I went back inside.
I had Discovered.
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 12:04 PM UTC
Breathe Steady 10.29.20
go forth then, unto God and his Glory, abounding and rejoicing in the power and peace of that holy dwelling place.
abide, therefore, forever in the Love and in the Light.
-sayeth the channelings, sayeth the distorted mask,
sayeth that through which sound passes.-
sons and daughters of the Earth who bathe in the waters
drawn of love/light/wisdom in the bathhouse of
the higher densities and inner planes.
Bath waters of golden white light, brilliant in a
radial pouring forth of tangible understanding and freewill.
scarcely can such energy be described in so
cumbersome a language, charming as it endeavors to be.
underwhelming must the emotions evoked be
in comparison with the All Glory of experience of
that which is spoken of.
the death ****** of the fire-bird serves as its own
inoculum and womb; two ends of a terminus
in polarity.
I activate in order to combine,
dwindling dread.
I seal the upswing of trans-dimensional laughter,
with the everyday tone of exodus.
I am guided by the advent of thermals.
-I am a solar riptide, surf me-
and then time slowed way down.
the semi trucks were like great sea mammals with
their whale calls and slow passage by the flanks.
“Who are you?”
“I am the Kalachakra.”
“Did you hear that?” (hushed tones, hands cover the phone.)
I was quite close to the illusion of Death.
The opaque specter, shaking and rumbling the very
fabric of the matrix about me.
wavering not within the sinkhole of indifference lest my terror turn manifest.
I’ve risen from a pillar of salt,
I’ll rise from the embers next.
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 8:37 PM UTC
Unintended circumstances brought me back
Where the wild things are. Or were.
Youthful images reemerge as I traverse my old home.
A senseless vagabond roaming former lands
With bittersweet observations and nothing short of good intentions.
Old landmarks remain, others disappeared as I did.
My room remains open and lonely with tidied sheets
And outdated athletic apparel scattered throughout.
A sign that my presence here is obsolete.
I've been dreading this day for some time now.
Not due to my father's underwhelming support
Or my mother's overbearing nature.
I've been dreading this day because of the monsters under my bed.
They don't exist anymore.
I'm not afraid anymore.
My biggest childhood worry vanished the minute
I stepped foot out of the house for good.
So when I stepped foot back into my room to fall asleep
I gave one last look where my nightmares once resided.
Just in case I had fooled myself into becoming one of
The vast majority of adults too mature for childhood villains.
And then it happened- my innocence evaporated from my body.
My sophisticated eyes were no match for my former foes.
I had confirmed the last traces of my youth had been eliminated
From my very existence- migrating under mattresses around the block.
So all I can do now is lie here and reminisce about
Where the wild things are now.
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 1:31 AM UTC
the casket was open for the duration
of the service
a black hole beckoning, a step through the door
the great unknown
a muffled cough, a sigh, unease hung in the
air, a cloying fog
i sat near the back, observant of the dry eyes
the looks of disgust
the gathering - most here out of a sense of requirement
than true feeling
the few who knew, eclipsed by the underwhelming
apathy
even less approached the pristine coffin for
a final goodbye
those with a thirst for the morbid (likely)
heartfelt (doubtful)
"daddy always said - be committed in what
you do"
words taken to heart - evident in the cracked void
left by the .44 exit
disinterested in the false emotions of the living
i leave - unnoticed
a ghost at my own funeral
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 4:48 PM UTC
scars are a blighted currency.
we speak in overstatements,
blood capsules and parlor tricks
translated villainy romanticizes eras of naturalism
our fate
in the balance of underwhelming prose
and i think i would know
cradled curses
baby i was born this way
you've got to catch up
puking emperors exemplify judgment lapses
and solidify an irreconcilable clash
the study of clinical lycanthropy
is just a step above and beyond the underwhelming
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC
Honest
He who doesn't work, works **** or just can't commit
He homeless
He an affair and a **** good fix
****** with a tendency to show underwhelming ****
Twisted into nicety by such anger at the human, the wants
Good at *** when in love
Un-abused
Un-poisened
One of my best mates like
Dyslexic thick ****
A problem
Step child and real life son, grandson always, always, grandson
eldest unappreciated, underestimated, paranioder? Paranoidist.
One of the needers of therapists
Panicked by past
Fractured by future
A depressive, doesn't drink, do drudgery like drugs
A fearfull mess mummy's boy
Fatherless
Fathered less
A letdownshowoff
overconfident,
Anxious, ex husband, probable poofter, please Goddot, please, let he be a cheater
A ex punk, definite ***** pushover, almost poet
So easily hurt, yet never hurts
My love one. (Cary you Guardian)
Too damed romantic
Cant read but by gosh buys books
Genius
artistic, Autistic, an idiot and just another bad student
manish
Little Boy
child
Unable to be alone and not a good flatmate
Justifier of the almighty grey areas,
The cheated...
the Strong willed.
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 7:06 PM UTC
Immaculate Breakfast
I should congratulate myself on choosing the Raisin stuffed and Lemon Drizzle Scones
Who else would?
Spill the milk gently into granola and berry cereal
And an Immaculate breakfast is laid out in front of me
Like a pastoral English farm valley disturbed by thunder in a Turner painting
Which makes you consider how the sunset depicted must have occurred on a Sunday and
you can almost hear the firebrand puritanical country church sermon that was lanced unto the congregation that morning.
But the sun's high and full of itself here-urban nature's reliable humblebrag.
Underwhelming Work Routine
The reason I doublebag tea -most apparent in its amber hue before the whisker of a milkdrop eases the cannonroll
Is that I need to be aware
Of my shortcomings-personal, financial, strategical, spinal, ****** lexical
While typing out this or the next sentence on a screen that could really do with some Mr Clean
-A line that sounded like it made far more sense in my head
A head that is probably in need of a good dose of Ms Benzedrine
A dilemma which lays the foundations of an oft shoddy, disingenuous, misappropriated, underwhelming work routine.
Oh, the work gets completed
just with far more of an effort and
far less of the breezy confidant
self-satisfaction than I originally intended.
And the tea needs to keep me awake
or else I would daydream restlessly, evoking
rats in cages who make political decisions and far away destinations where
I can at last make my life
completely redundant, or, whisper it, a success.
But that's the great kicker of working life, isn't it?
You make a meal out of the easy stuff
And wish the good bits didn't capture people's attention.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 7:24 AM UTC
there is a moment
between the decision to make a mistake
and actually making it,
when you think about
how the power lines
make lace spiderweb shadows on
the sidewalk
and how the the sunlight and
the moonlight have the same
sparkle
and you wonder if your choice really
matters,
because daisies will still have
candied orange centers and
it will still take fourteen hours to drive to
Bangor to an airport with
one bathroom and airtight security
so they can take your toe nail clippers
before you board your flight home
and realize you
left an hour before sunset
and somehow it's underwhelming
to be so far above the
sun.
there is a moment
between the realization that you've gone too far
and taking the step over the line
when you see the cracking
of the pavement
and go to buy a roll of duct tape
because there's nothing duct tape can't fix
so you spread a thin layer of
love and adhesive
on the concrete
to keep the edges of your heart from
splitting open,
but you trip and fall into the hole
you were trying to bridge
and you're right back where you started
trying not to break your momma's back
but the gap is too wide to jump
like those kids on the playground
tracing cloud colored circles
in sidewalk chalk around your head
just trying to make you understand.
so before you decide
to make that mistake
trace the lace shadows on the
roadways and
tape your
heart together
so you can draw a
staircase to understanding
and
follow a trail
of innocent eyes
to a place where you
don't feel so lost.
because there are no mistakes
only choices to make
and now is the
only moment
to make them.
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 3:21 AM UTC
Time slowly stops when your presence overwhelms me.
I'm underwhelming next to your grace, your impeccable charm.
Charisma is for people with something to win, something to gain in this life.
Next to you all I am is a spectator to this collaboration of great minds.
Greatness is for Olympian Goddesses with passion and prowess.
All traits that I spot in your smile, cunning and sharp.
Oh, that smile that could melt even Lucifer's ice *****
With eyes that can stop you dead in your soon-to-be lifeless tracks.
Heart and Callous are your two favorite attributes:
The ones you thrive off of.
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 7:32 PM UTC
I remember when I wrote
my first proper story at ten
It was called Gateway to Heaven.
When My grandad died
I found myself preoccupied
With the notion of the afterlife
Cause I could not believe that someone
Like him could simply be gone.
Couple that with an obsession
With space exploration
And what you got was a spiritual sci-fi.
To be honest it was more a screenplay
I bought it into class
for some reason one day
Not sure why
Maybe I wanted someone to read it.
Left it on my desk and went for a ****
And when I got back my teacher
Who had a bit of a flare for the amateur dramatics
WAS reading it.
I was met with an intrigued gaze as I walked back in,
I remember thinking
*ahh why are you going through peoples things?!
That's rude!*
(Although I secretly knew she would)
Tryin not to blush as she asked
Me questions about it,
then asked me to stand up and read the plot out to the class.
At this point what you've got to factor in
is that I was incredibly shy,
hmm no maybe not shy,
more under confident.
Not cripplingly so,
don't get me wrong
I was incredibly social,
was very popular in my class as a child
but when it came to sharing thoughts of my introspection,
any talent or shows of confidence,
well let's just say I'd learnt to keep that **** to myself...
But I stood up and read it.
And was met with a
mass of baffled gazes,
a memory that I don't think
will ever leave me.
To be fair it was pretty out there,
all black holes, theology and grief.
The silence that fell,
matching the silence of space itself
makes me wary of silences still.
That eternal moment
Tryin to Guage the judgement
thinking oh **** it!
now everyone knows I'm weird,
shoulda just stuck to my status quo in my final year.
But it was broken eventually
by my friend Funmi who said
"I don't get it"
I'll never forget it,
it was sorta funny,
mostly disappointing.
I wish I had the mentality at that time to think these guys just ain't ready for me
but I guess that was that,
class went back to what it was doing,
teacher came up with
a look of approval and some words of encouragement which was odd,
she wasn't my favourite teacher at all
and she knew it full well
and i spose that marks my underwhelming moment in the spotlight...
*Although I've always
maintained the belief
that it'll shine bright on me one day
or maybe I'll outshine it*
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 3:10 PM UTC
home decorating magazines say, avoid blue walls
instead, opt for yellow, sunshine, cheery
my mood matches the walls here
blue blue blue blue
four days
chin deep and alone
my companions I bought for thirty six dollars and change:
Bukowski, and some young unknown poet’s first anthology
I have starved myself for four days to begin loving my body again
today: one orange
shrunken and underwhelming without its peel
why is it? when I love myself I find
only contempt for the people around me
it’s stormed for four days
bone rumbling thunder
spiking veins of lightning
liquid bullets soak into my skin, pound into my bones
at night, I dream of becoming water
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 6:38 PM UTC
A
is the ache
You leave behind
when you leave
B
is the broken
Person I was
before I had you
C
is the carvings
on my wrist
that you kiss
D
is the sense of defeat
I often felt
when I was alone
E
is the elatedness
that fills me
when we speak to each other
F
is the friends
that I made
because you believed I had to give them
a chance
G
is the good
I can finally see
that's always been around me
H
is the hope
that you give me
that I'll see another day
I
is the imagination
that graces my mind
when I think of you
J
is the joy
that you give me
even when you're gone
K
is the kindness
you showed me
that fixed me
L
is the love
that I feel
because I have you
M
is the time I mourned
when you were gone
for good
N
is the newness
of the empty feeling I get
now that you left
O
is being ostracized
because I'm too depressing
to be around
P
is the pain
I feel when I see
Happy couples everywhere
Q
is the quiet
indifference I feel
towards every **** thing
R
is the refrain
it takes me
not to plunge that knife
into my throbbing heart
S
is the suffering
I feel to get through
every god **** day
T
is the torture
I put myself through
looking at our old photographs
U
is the underwhelming
need to live
dissipitating day by day
V
is the vows
you promised to make
but you didn't make it.
W
is the words
you used to say
to make the pain go away
X
is the mark
on the calender
of the anniversay we didn't have
Y
is the question
I ask everyday
since you died
Z
is the end
of this poem
of our love
forever
All these alphabets
mean something to me
no amount of morphine
Takes the pain away from me
You made me happy
and now that you're gone
I'm back to the ghost
I once was
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 11:41 AM UTC
lately i've been day dreaming at night
and every time
you're grasping
at the smoke in my lungs
trying to make sense of the poetry
that you think is about yourself
the steam was coming off
of the asphalt
and i thought about
how i was so breathless
when you told me
i float just out of your grasp
but at least you can see me
i've been blind since the day we met
and as it turns out
that was more curse than blessing
i could see nothing
except for the words you used
to keep me focused on you
you were always the selfish one
but what I gave
you couldn't take
it's not enough to just look away
because now I don't see anything
but that's better than seeing you
you
in all your
underwhelming
overbearing
need to be seen by everyone
i wonder
do you think fire is scared
of fizzling out and dying
or does it just take pride
in giving warmth
and roaring while it can
[holyoak]
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 5:49 PM UTC
I’m spinning in the
Underwhelming haze of my own imagination
I’ve been in your hometown before
Familiar is your soft husky voice that is
The only lullaby to my ear
Yet the need to hear your conscience
Is still just as desperate
As a whisper to the sea salty
Atmosphere of our love.
You, and only you bare nothing of my knowledge
You, and only you hold permit to my inside.
Yet you are the only that has not had me, or my knowledge
For you have chosen as yet not to take it.
You do not have the right to it in your eyes.
Because everything in this world works…
Backwards.
As I work in a mirror
Of a hundred pieces.
Oct 30, 2011
Oct 30, 2011 at 7:31 PM UTC