"unendurable" poems
Never have I been the best at hiding how I feel. There is no peaceful game. My face reveals the truth. Never to be doubted. Nothing left to wonder. Still, I reign it in. I stifle my reality in an attempt to keep you close. So tender-hearted beneath that thickening shell. The shell I penetrated somehow. Once you found me in your heart, you pushed with all your might. Trying to get me out. I cannot be budged. Yet, I am not free to love you. You refuse to let me be yours in theory or practice. You love me, but not by choice. Fear of the possibility of pain keeps you at bay. Yet saving yourself from pain has deemed my own inconsequential. For running from me pulls out my heart.
**Pushing me away
What's best, or just what's easy
Burns holes in my soul**
Not one to take the easy way out. Suffering to love you. There is no expectation of love requited. There is nothing but a dream, part memory part wishful thinking. Hot needles still poke at me, slowly breaking me down. Weakening my very being with the sharp jabs of stinging words or careless action, or worse...absolute inaction. I have learned to stop expecting the "Morning Sunshine" or "'Night Darlin'" that used to brighten each day. Those thoughtless things, the tiny nothing things that let me know I was on your mind. So far from nothing those nothings were. Days and nights seem incomplete in their absence. Weaning to make your days bearable makes mine unendurable, empty, and melancholy has come to underlie all things.
**Joy of love melts ice
Heat smothered by a tear cloud
Threadbare soul survives**
Challenges faced sideways leave blind spots. Choices made by indecision. Letting mistakes be made, watching as they choose wrong. I see the truth and know what I know. Everything is aligned for my own misfortune. For as a bystander, I lay no claims. Anything I do will hasten the inevitable. So I let the weaning drip down to nothing. Reluctantly I watch as you disappear with my heart in hand. I stood firm as you ran away in place. You turned to me, you needed me, you loved me. As the clouds dissipate and the sun creeps over the horizon, With the blue sky I turn to mist. Slowly fading to the past. A ghost of could've been, used to be, and never was
**Surrender takes time
Reluctantly relinquished
I will fight no more**
Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 12:36 AM UTC
the drama unfolds
and the young grow old
while the old go with a curse
I myself am grown into my fifties
and the people I’ve known
who called me Little Boy
have been called to dust and urn and to river over the decades;
and the kids I would kneel before to speak with them
now they say: Do I see you with hunched shoulders?
the earthly hours pass
and generations come and go
with little knowing though of their own flow
the drama unfolds
and the young grow old
while the old go
with a last bite of a fried chicken
places have changed
and villages and forests lain bare
and once where I stood admiring angsanas
and mango trees and peacocks
now I admire lilly-pillies
and hold the koala and the kangaroo as mascots;
people I have called mother, father
and uncle and aunty and grandmother
they now have gone, some without even a good-bye
some smiling and some with unintelligible mutterings
and ah, some in unendurable suffering
while I walk now as time unfurls like a flag in the square;
and the witnesses
of uncountable generations
of immeasurable life
those stars and the sun and the moon
keep me quiet company
and the sunlight uses the leaves in the garden
to whisper to me the secrets of things;
and in my leisure
these words I speak to you
and when I’m gone
through these you may speak with me;
and the ones I have told stories to
now re-tell the stories to their young
and time, interrupting its slumber,
lifts its head like a garden in the snake
awhile
sees all is right, all flowing as it would expect,
and looks around and gives me a look too
and goes back to sleep;
ah, the drama unfolds
and the young grow old
while the old go with a wink
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 8:17 PM UTC
Loving you was both ineffable and unendurable
I felt a hiraeth for your heart
As you had already set mine aquiver
Your voice sounded so mellifluous and sonorous
That it was almost nefarious
The epoch of while I looked at you
I knew this wasn’t limerence
And every day I prayed for serendipity
You were ethereal
So much so that it seemed almost illicit
You smelt of petrichor
Maybe it was just my glasses
That made you look iridescent
And made you look like you were luminescent
I didn’t need to rub my eyes to sense phosphines
When you were near me
Because although the time I got to spend with you was ephemeral
It sent me into oblivion
Because I was convinced this was yuanfen
It kind of made me feel like defenestrating you
You made me go through metanoia
The thought of you was eunoia
I guess what I’m trying to say is
I’m ******* in love with you
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 3:16 PM UTC
All I wanted was to see a smile, to hear a word that didn’t hurt,
I’d go to sleep at night thinking about how different it could be,
How happy I’d be if I could only go through the world unafraid,
And in my vision I would have a friend who listened and who cared.
Every morning it’s the same. I wake up knowing that they are waiting,
Putting on my clothes I try to make it so I’m invisible, a ghost—
That way no one will notice me walking down the hall,
No one will call me names and trip me, my books spilling on the floor.
Every day I have to live in this hell that others call life, waiting,
Knowing that each classroom brings its own special torture,
That each bell calls me to yet another soul lashing,
Another stinging name they’ve invented for me to keep the wound raw.
I did nothing except not knowing how to act or what to say or how to belong,
And so they took my shyness and used it to make sure I’d pay for my disdain,
Making me the target for all their own pain and anger, the crucible of their cruelty,
Each day spent inventing some new way to make me bleed tears.
That old singer is right—there is a meanness in this world.
They took from me everything I was, everything I wanted to be,
Finally, they managed to take away my reason for staying alive
So I went home and locked myself in the bedroom, made sure the rope was tight. . .
And put an end to the unendurable pain of belonging nowhere, with no one, ever.
May 15, 2012
May 15, 2012 at 10:02 PM UTC
Here within these walls
We are taught the tools for life
To live it, survive it,
To thrive in a world full of guise.
But
See
People think that here the learning's based on grades
That books and pencils dominate our lives.
But in a world small as a spinning globe,
We learn more important things.
Lessons go untested, uncharted, unacknowledged.
Here and now
We learn what stays burned into our brains
Etched into our thoughts
Lesson's we'll never ever forget
So drilled and memorized are they.
And that is why we want to leave.
To run.
To forget.
Here we learn the unendurable lessons that our lives revolve around.
We learn to love, we learn to lose,
We learn to be used and to act to perfection.
We learn to suffer, we learn to hate, we learn to feel jealousy
And shame
And fear.
We learn that in a world as small as this
One person can turn the sky black, or blue.
One person can bruise the soul.
We learn to take our hurting seriously
No matter what small thing has dredged it up.
We learn to endure, to go on, to give up, to play dead, to play alive,
And oh, god, do we learn to wait.
For the day we might be at least an inch removed from our teachers.
For our truest teachers in high school have no degrees,
No qualifications.
The most important teachers we will ever meet
Have nothing whatsoever to do with grades.
They teach you that
You can't leave
You can't hide
You can't run
You can't try
They teach humiliation and obsession and seduction and depression.
In twenty years, when somebody asks me what I learned in high school,
I cannot be sure that the first thing I say will be
Mathscienceenglishgeographyfrench
I cannot be sure that the words won't fall from my lips
Before I can reel them back in-
Even years hence-
"In high school, I learned how to bleed."
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 9:45 PM UTC
"I can't do this anymore."
She said as she dropped
the razor from her hand.
The cuts on her hand were
as deep as her love for him was.
She sat there weeping all night
thinking of how she could reverse
the time and heal her wounds.
The night was as troglodytic
as her heart.
She clenched her fist tight as she
heard it whisper in her ears.
A very familiar voice but not
palatable to hear.
A voice that sounds like an elegy.
Her world spun at the speed of light
when it said it's stuck to her.
Her hands started trembling as
it was latched onto her.
Nails so long and eyes so red
she couldn't stop the horrendous
voices in her head.
As soon as the firebolt struck
the ground the wolves started
bawling, the fiendish and
diabolical sky started mourning.
All she wanted at that
time was to be free of that
unendurable and inadmissible
pain but the depression which
came in the form of Mephistopheles
did not let her empty her vessel.
As the long abominable and
atrocious night passed she was
found lying on the floor breathing
but not alive.
She was completely shattered and
broken into tiny bits but
with every tiny bit she still
loved him.
That was the night she realized
what it was like to
live with depression.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 12:28 PM UTC
may twenty-third
nobody remembered
nobody bothered to notice
a birthday without bliss
unlit numbers of candles
i'm fine it's not that i can't handle
inevitable
yet unendurable
popped balloons
within the soul of a dark cold room
laughs giggles shouts
greetings from all the way throughout
but not a single hi or hello
not a single birthday greeting though
"you die a day near your birthday"
each legends always say
and that's what i look forward to every may
it's still may twenty-third
and if it wasn't me someone might've cared
-djs
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 4:58 PM UTC
**"Love...
It comes,—the beautiful, the free,
The crown of all humanity,—
In silence and alone
To seek the elected one."** Wadsworth Longfellow
<>
forgive me, Henry,
for tampering with thy perfect,
these words provoke
a restless, hard earned, smouldering and enflaming,
imperfected, unasked, unsought,
yearning
to explain, share, complete, abbreviate, lengthen and explicate,
my version, my coloration,
my coronation,
from the end of ceaseless, repetitive waves of wanting
completion
forty years in the desert,
four hundred year in ******* in Egyptian exile,
boul
der chained, uphill climber,
amazes me even now, how
did I desire to breathe,
arose to contemplate, perplexed,
why was I placed on this star,
skin branded dissatisfied, a human being,
unratified, unconstituted
just another love song, just another poem,
certainly no better, and surely worse,
than the thousands of thousands that preceded,
and the thousand more that will come by
nightfall
surrender - I cannot surpass
what lies below
acknowledge respectfully,
the luckless, the loveless
despair can dissipate, as hard to believe,
as hard as the unendurable, I counsel not
hard patience,
instead,
awake forever impatient, irresolutely
hardy and ravenous,
for what will come your way,
when I cannot say,
but this I know,
you are an elected, selected one, and
**It comes,—the beautiful, the free,
The crown of all humanity,—
In silence and alone
To seek the elected one**
8:21am Aug. 27, 2016
<>
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 8:24 AM UTC
She sat next to me,
a soulless body.
She hid her face
behind the darkness.
She stretched her
hand and showed
me her scars.
She pulled her
heart out and
kept it right in
front of me.
A heart that
was black
and poisoned by
the dart of phony
love.
I looked into her
agonising eyes,
where the spark
no longer existed
She touched me
by her flaccid
fingers.
My world which
was colourful
became a caliginous
place to live in.
As soon as she
touched me, my
heart started throbbing
And my eyes started bleeding.
I could feel her unendurable
pain .
She had just come out
of a fiendish storm and
was afraid of falling again.
But yet she fell again
for a prince who
came on a white horse.
His tranquilizing words
healed her cuts but
little did she know he was
just another mephistopheles
who came to ruin her.
She thought he would never
hurt her but his actions made
deeper cuts .
She had passed her inadmissible
pain to me which ******
the soul out of my body
leaving an empty mind
and a shattered heart.
The chain had just
Started and I realized that
I was the first one who was
targeted.
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 6:26 AM UTC
the uncertainties of
unendurable disturbances
that announce themselves
with the plausible coordinates
of illusion location
an identity to elusive
to justify human possession
leaves only the confusion
of such insoluble difficulties
where the finding of this strange image
is at once touching and grotesque
poses the question what is the self?
what are the guarantees of identity?
who possesses such and by what right?
how is individuality secured?
or are we left to the larcenous wiles
of ones own deployment
an illusion that hovers over one
like an appalling malady
exquisitely positioned on the mind
where it basques in the language
of so called neutral expression of thought
where one alone denounces the self
albeit under compulsion of poignant lament
that evaporates among
shrouds and gaping graves
we are all but the
coordinates of illusion
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 1:00 PM UTC
I think I need a revolution.
Everybody hates running.
I want to live in a little apartment in New York, overlooking a cobblestone street. And when it rains I want to sit by the window with a cup of sweet, hot tea, and watch the glow of the streetlights paint those stones and glance off the bricks of all the walls, and shimmer in the drops. I want to see neon streaks along the cars that slip by, sleek. I want a cat on my lap. I want somebody's warm arms around me, and a soft husky feminine voice asking me why don't I come back to bed, honey? I want to linger for a second, soak up the beauty of my world, because I finally can, because I can finally afford to linger alone somewhere instead of constantly fleeing thoughts and memories that bite like flung razors at my back. I want to pause and admire my entire existence, unhindered by melancholy, because finally my life is not unendurable. I want that chance, for that night. For that moment in the quiet hours of the morning, sitting apart from the world, warm and happy and finally safe, looking at its exquisite presence.
But to get that chance, I must keep running. If I stop, if I let it get me, I will never see that day. And that is why I fill my life with distractions and flee my deepest thoughts when they come upon me. It's why the journals stopped for now, and why I hardly draw anymore, and why I am extremely careful which songs make it to my ears. I'm in a race. And if I win, I will win my safety, my security, my life. But if I lose... I lose even more than that. I lose every moment I spent hoping for any of those things. I have to keep
running.
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
I'd rather torch my soul, and burn like a falling star, than forget to miss you for even a moment.
It's a dancing flame that tells stories on the walls.
It's a forest fire that razes a thousand miles to ash.
I't s a cozy hearth in the middle of a snowy winter night.
It's a funeral pyre, a last goodbye scattered on the wind.
Oh, and I am alive, I am full of joy,
And I will BURN until I can't hold it,
Spin into fire like a supernova.
I won't be quenched by any tears.
They feed me and I grow.
I am the sun, and it has hurt me to be so bright.
I will consume everything I touch-
All the knowledge and wonder I can reach, I will have,
Oh love, I am hungry to live!
You've made me so vast, so white hot like an ember.
Down in the core of me, I am the kind of heat that is unendurable.
I am a hot day in the desert, destruction and beauty,
A mirage out of shimmering mist, out of light itself.
I am the smallest candle floating lonely on the coldest sea,
And I am the rising sun scorching the world awake.
I am the kind of blaze that cleanses, like a burning needle.
I am the boiling beneath the sea where the earth reaches for us from the inside.
I am light, glancing off every molecule, painting the world beautiful and agonizing.
Molten gold, liquid and scintillating, I am so full of fire.
I will never be cold again for having known you, my darling.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 2:38 PM UTC
unendurable, long and exhausting
are the pains
presumptuous like appeals
from a jaded pulpit
such as they are, are powerless
a passage from a discarded tract
such are these pernicious pains
that swarm in a slivering hiss
upon dark and lurking shadows
aesthetically applauding themselves
as they push here and there
in their wounding commentary
of painful narrative
agonising enough to reduce
the soul to debilitating bouts
of disagreeably damaging experience
with startling exaggerations
that produce disgraceful extortions
upon mind and body
squandering unbearable isolations
fragmenting the cracks
in a delicate structure of personality
uprooting it from a sanctified paradise
providing instead a monstrous, shameful loathing
that makes one choose to become another
other than those unthinking
other than this misery of anguish
other than this pain
deliberately to provoke an anger
the other with ingratiating timidity
or rebellious defiance
favours a rejection of
all resentful obligations
all that is distasteful
all that is not worth carrying out
such as with a contempt
that allows one to escape into an emptiness
of the ridiculous and the impossible
through thoughts to an absurdity of beliefs
through the deserted streets
the neighbourhoods of the lie
pass the filthy inadequacies
of obscene caresses
where one is mocked
by exquisitely satisfying ******
of vicious pains
pains that control behaviour
freedom of movement
time and space
who appear at the corners of the mouth
where lurk sarcastic secrets
now I know in these horrors and torments
that time has stopped in all dimensions
eternity has ceased
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 2:18 PM UTC
LETTER OF A MADMAN
Ayad Gharbawi
A scream
In my memory
I heard abstractly
While you talked to me
All I needed were humans
Real
How will it be
When I come to say my farewells to you
Towns you built are architecturally horrific
Expressiveness denied repeatedly
A madman spoke words none heard
Turned his brush strokes inside
Inner meanings to be meant
He spoke of love and deprivations unendurable
Killing his bearings
Christened himself as emptiness
How sad can you feel?
Can you understand, readers years from now?
Strangers coldened by life
Wrote manuscripts and discarded them
The oceans profound called out to the madman
Whose inner cadaver remained there
Devoured by existing fish
Oceans bottomless
Waters of no oxygen and light
Where fish survived in pain
Where did humanity touch with nature?
I never understood
Madman journeyed ‘neath the heavens black and starless
The ocean’s bed invited me here
Because that’s where I belong
I guess
Dec 29, 2009
Dec 29, 2009 at 7:59 AM UTC
unendurable, long and exhausting
are the pains
presumptuous in their plenty
such are these pernicious pains
that swarm in a slivering hiss
upon dark and lurking shadows
aesthetically applauding themselves
as they push here and there
in their wounding commentary
of painful narrative
agonising enough to reduce
the soul to debilitating bouts
of disagreeably damaging experience
with startling exaggerations
that produce disgraceful extortions
upon mind and body
squandering unbearable isolations
fragmenting the cracks
in a delicate structure of personality
uprooting it from a sanctified paradise
providing instead a monstrous, shameful loathing
that makes one choose to become another
other than those unthinking
other than this misery of anguish
other than this pain
deliberately to provoke an anger
the other with ingratiating timidity
or rebellious defiance
favouring a rejection of
all resentful obligations
all that is distasteful
all that is not worth carrying out
such as with a contempt
that allows one to escape into an emptiness
of the ridiculous and the impossible
through thoughts to an absurdity of beliefs
through the deserted streets
the neighbourhoods of the lie
pass the filthy inadequacies
of obscene caresses
where one is mocked
by exquisitely satisfying ******
of vicious pains
pains that control behaviour
freedom of movement
time and space
who appear at corners of the mouth
where lurk sarcastic secrets
now I know in these horrors and torments
that time has stopped in all dimensions
eternity has ceased
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 5:32 PM UTC
Oh stranger,
this pain and love, this pain of love,
everything's been getting unendurable.
The charge of my soul gets heavier
through the passing of time,
our clocks stand still,
though we share the same time frame.
Blindfolded confined in a labyrinth,
any given time
I found myself drawn towards
your lonesome and gloomy shadow,
drifting to be yielded to you.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 1:47 PM UTC
*When is suicide romanic?
Tragic?
Appalling?
These questions bear their wait
In the back of my spinning mind
Here I squeeze the grip of a butcher’s knife,
Not in the moonlight, but the ever-graying sky
When no ears can hear the reverberating echo
From your cries in the lies where you lost yourself so deeply
When no one is willing to think of you
For fear of ruining their day,
Then is it perfectly unselfish to at upon unendurable pain
In the blush of the night
And the rolling, roaring peal of thunder
The dark clouds express the torment
Far better than my pathetic cries for condolence
Yes, I’m cherishing my thoughtful misery
As if it were unalike any other
But I know it will end so quickly
If I’d just jump the roof, ****** the dagger
With the unbelievable, deafening, so blinding silence
I know that nothing can lance the quiet
With my towel in hand
My last plunge in soon to come
In the endless depths
Of sorrow’s irrevocable ocean*
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
punctuality suckles a speedy affiliation
with wakeful limbs, christened of an inferior exception
some days I might touch upon a suitably plain persistence
through a righteous soliloquy,
an instance, steeped in harmonic fear,
where music can no longer buy sleep but ****** gestures imagine a time
when oxygen will not consent but leave my lungs,
scabbed,
torn
then will come the difficult hello
for whisky rarely clears the mind
of smoky memories in slowed down time
more so while you still live in the hole
I drank into the side of my jaw
eternity
it seems so vague,
spacious yet thimble sized
whilst nature frowns,
cured,
withered and ferrous
noting the unobserved,
even as the militant dynamic
of every unendurable star fingers forever
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 11:00 AM UTC
I have never been an advocate
Of “woman’s right to choose”
because I think an infant’s life
is too precious to lose.
In the case of Marie Fleming,
I might plead for an exception:
This brave Irish woman,
Her body wracked with mortal pain,
Sought surcease from suffering-.
a peaceful rest to gain.
She did not fear that final breath
as the young and healthy do.
She sought a death with dignity-
the same as me and you.
MS was her enemy-
She could not do the deed.
She asked the courts to let friends help
To be there in her need.
Denied of an assisted end,
Marie died yesterday.
I hope that she passed peacefully
and sleeps til Judgment day.
Her wicker casket was borne to church,
She rests there in the yard.
She bore pain unendurable
before she met her God.
We are more merciful to pets
When they face shorter odds
Than the courts were to Marie
Who‘d been dealt the thirteenth card.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 9:47 PM UTC
Migraine
Throbbing noises , neon lights
Please ! Go away
Smell of caffeine ,
It's being unendurable
Oh ! Aura stabbed me
Torment troubles somewhere around
I want the drug acetaminophen
Don't drill my cerebrum
Head is walking with nightmares
Monsters are advocate there
I need relief
Agony is so inconsiderate
Fire is in brain and flood in the eyes
ibuprofen ? Didn't work !
Headache is still over eye
Though attack is fixed for skull ,
I'm taking high dose aspirin
Now , I'm gonna sleep with migraine
And wake up with migraine .
©Smriti Ranabhat
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 11:42 PM UTC
As i sit back and watch the openly wounded come back from the war of speaking to you, it makes the burning hunger in my heart more passionately unbearable. For a fleeting instant I was your's, and, for an even briefer moment you were mine. But you had an unendurable curious spirit that even i couldn't manage to capture the attention of for more than a rapid second. And that was tiringly back-breaking, so I stopped striving to be that one singular girl whom you kept around for a time. I stopped glancing around to survey if you were around when i was about to do something noteworthy. I stopped trying to keep the conversation going if it was veering towards a dead-end. I even stopped wearing my hair precisely the way you like it. But that undoubtedly didn't mean I still didn't thirst for your presence. That didn't mean I could deliberate with you about the very person i loved. In as much as, as laborious as this was to confess to you, I am still insanely in love with you.
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 6:23 PM UTC
Time
always goes
too fast when I am
with you
and too slow
when I am not.
It's as if, time, let slip,
dis-remembered, or forgot,
That the real present
is living in the presence
with you.
It's as if, time was late,
in it's ability to understand
and appreciate,
to capitulate,
the unendurable
fate, of having to wait,
for my fingers to lock through
yours.
It's as though time does not understand
Nor comprehend,
that for each moment it loses,
our life nears an end
and each moment
that I spend, without you,
is a memory formed, and
cremated, too,
For each moment that I have spent
with my lips pressed against your lips,
exchanging conversations,
as laughter stumbles and slips,
as together we build,
our home, a future, out of this,
requires more,
seconds, minutes, hours,
than
any clock could give.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 5:24 PM UTC
Son to father, knife to blade,
An aching heart screaming for aid.
Amber coals writhing with ire,
The whites of his eyes, blazing afire.
He dropped to his knees,
Voice begging, “Please!”
“It’s for your own good.”
Up tall he stood,
Hand raised, dignified.
A small child, victimized.
Years later,
That boy, a crumpled paper.
Age makes no difference to a broken soul,
With no self-worth, an empty hole.
Pain still lingers;
Sharp razor in trembling fingers.
A vein opened, flowing magma let loose,
Rope tied like a hangman’s noose.
A troubled mind’s only solution,
An unendurable pain, ended by execution.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 11:29 AM UTC
Then when the pens
Of oriental scribes
Descend, I find
Grief which undermines
Unstudied tombs of unlost time
Foundations of existence flood
Over me, as if in ambush lay
Unendurable pain is felt within
Its blame the extinguishing of the day
Mar 7, 2012
Mar 7, 2012 at 2:47 PM UTC