"unenviable" poems
Questa canzone è su di te
To you
Mother Courage
I extend a cigarette
of shy anticipation
I want you to ****** me
to implement your closure
on the monotone
Duet For One
Raid my loneliness
in a hotel on Naked Street
Walk The Proud Land
of maple leaf melancholy
as you would the violated daughter
of New York Confidential
I'll diffuse the wind
of my depression
for your mourning candle
and undo the changing of
your name
No longer need you be
The Girl In Black Stockings
unless of course you want to be
Yes I want you to ****** me
but not to bear the burden
of a Miracle Worker
steady as you've been
on that unenviable pedestal
In the dictum of my
infinite malaise you define
The Last Frontier
Let me light your cigarette
Louisa
with which you would illuminate
the fog of my unbridled
Silent Movie
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC
harbouring virtuousity, curious to express
exhibiting, she firmly held the pen
to jot down the mystic emotion,
the exquisite dream
oblivious of the mounting stress
pouring
the dissipating words recklessly fading
confused up wit
unable to sought down, the oblivion of sleep
knew not what to indite
unable to contemplate the very dream
but thoughtfully only was such the fuddled sapidness
the psychic images ; a subtle dream
dreary eyes
thirstily awaited
till the very amnesia faded
for the sole muzzy feeling, this the only manifest
suffice the unenviable question
whence crept the feeling?
whence the love aviate?
where rested the answer?
sudden diaphanous streak
stroke sorely to the pounding wit
paralyzing her for the moment being
the sudden egest
whatever the persistent burden
gone
for now
them thoughts voyaged operosely
beyond the abyssal pupil now dwelt
the glamorous face, snowy heavenly dress..
the very words ; euphoric conversation
lasting gentle tepid touch
that had dourly crept and haunted
throughout the delusive night...
penned down
finally incurred
peace
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 1:32 PM UTC
Down and out, broken like so many burned out automobiles
Yet blazing infinite with immeasurable conviction &
Rapturous with the weight of destiny
Manic hysteria drove them off the overpass
Hipster Valkyries raised them to avant-garde Valhalla
And the eight o'clock news made messiahs of the lot
Nirvana sold last weeks newspapers on the side of the highway
Rolling with a sweet glimmer of a shark toothed smile
On the horizon hunting for a high that can't ever be attained
Holiest of Holies on a red lipped mountain top
Or a supermarket bathroom stall scrawled with ****** madness
The Lord's Prayer in black ink, brutal and simple
There were misty eyed girls on the morning train to some great and unenviable elsewhere
And by night the crows circled six times, once for each of the dead end dreams swallowed that day
Candid and conscious, where the wild ones roam the city
Burning the flags they wave and waving the flags they burn
America's sweethearts on the run from the police
Sawing at heartstrings like bows on a twisted violin
From the mountains to the valleys the winds screamed senseless in their joy
Liberation and the kiss of a lipstick Judas were on everyone's mind
Martyrs a mile a minute, a dime a dozen
Down the line the angels wept gloria mundi
For the sinners sung with passion, the saints stoically mourned
The revelers and the rioters and the street kids looking for a ride home
The toxic kissed stars that set the city lights the shame
And the masochists, blessed with a gypsy goddess' double edged kiss
And broken down like so many burned out automobiles
Yet blazing infinite with immeasurable conviction &
Rapturous with the weight of destiny
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 2:59 AM UTC
...Yet I still have visions of
Death and his father,
Disconsolate and privy
The tears of his mother
His love for her deep but
No one should know,
For her burden is heavy,
And her shoulders are low
6 billion,
7 billion,
she rotates all the more...
And yet I still have these visions
Of death and his father,
Furrowing along space without
Sister nor brother,
Sitting by his feet gaining his wisdom
Like fodder
The unenviable task,
Despised by all,
Such a burden to bear
Such a levy to toll...
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 12:23 PM UTC
When others slam the door,
You close it with gentle hands.
When others scream at the air,
You focus on your plans.
Explosive anger consumes many,
They react in the most unenviable way,
It is disheartening that they can lose themselves so,
As they live immersed in their day-to-day.
Be higher, choose to concentrate,
Know that you are the key holder for your fate.
When others slam the door,
You close it with gentle hands.
When others scream at the air,
You focus on your plans.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 9:23 AM UTC
the walker, bends,
her lycra-clad hips,
to check her addidas laces.
she has walked,
many, many miles
in this life.
all, in the pursuit,
of the, body beautiful.
and now, has the
musculsture,
of an aged chicken.
all string and rope,
under sagging skin.
she breathes deeply,
sips, from a metalic bottle
and begins,
the downward journey,
into the unenviable,
inevitablity of ageing.
she smiles and
gives me a cheery wave,
as she passes on by.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 7:58 PM UTC
My father would read between the lines
To find a comfortable place to exist
His words were veiled by a velvet cloak
Understatements wrapped neatly in their over-thinking
He would wince in pain as sharp gravel
Would impale his cold calloused feet
The road was unenviable in its condition
Yet he never left the discomfort of the ground
He had no proclivity to shepherd my path
He would let me stumble and crash over my own roots
So I took my time and I kept my distance
For his battered body was foreign to my eyes
He would drift out of sight, out of mind
But out of heart was a different story
As all the shoal and sand settled down around him
He remained governed by a far different wave
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 9:10 PM UTC
when
the apple skin
is fit enough for breaking
there will be
just as you said-
pomp and merrymaking
I'll weave a cozy nest for us
beside a faery dell
and sing the song of stardust
on a lute of kitten's paw shell
but when the apple tree is dead,
though the taste of fruit may linger,
it will be just as I said-
Unenviable December
the song will chill among bows,
seldom will be heard the music-
we'll know the place like wedding vows
broken for our own amusement
in the autumn, all is woven-
nests and throaty strings
in the winter forest
no birds sing
-Brian Bigley
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:14 PM UTC
(20 minute poetry)
This has gotta be wack
when you open your eyes and find
you're out on a day trip travelling back, but unsure of the why of it.
Not sure of anything though it all looks familiar.
Then a switch flicks on and I'm back to where I belong and wondering why or if I was worried at all.
It's the shaking if lenses are shook that makes me look on the dark side and to look there is to be there even if only in spirit.
When 'Marley' comes upon me and the chains start to rattle
I battle as best as I can.
one man against an army of ghosts.
Unenviable odds about evens
although the bookies have them
as clear favourites, but what would
they know?
Self preservation and protestations of innocence or guilt are what built the empire
I'd fire the lot of them and take my chances with dead men.
It's gotta be
wack
switch.
and I'm back.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 2:45 AM UTC
procrastination,
the unenviable task
being rescheduled
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 5:45 PM UTC
Beneath my grey boots the
reflection in the ripples
Conveyed a image of a familiar
Turmoil and saddening.
With the landscape implausible
And the fate unenviable
it beckoned with its wittering wail the
empty promise of a better life.
Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 8:25 PM UTC
Oysters they're out there - somewhere,
Everywhere,
as the oyster men slowly drift through the inlet.
Heaved by sail and oar;
sinews of sheets and sails stretched.
Driven by hope and anticipation
the patina of time etched in weatherbeaten faces;
Like a lure for life the longline stretches and dredges, expectant evermore.
Drifting from catch to catch where the ardent prosper;
Achieve and believe the addiction and alchemy of the aspirant,
"Dream big" of the world the unenviable oyster of youth,
Dictums of the desirous drifting from goal to goal,
and chore to chore.
Mantras of men mourning forgone missives of the masculine.
The dredges of disconnected men's minds to sea.
Destined for despair.
Mar 11, 2020
Mar 11, 2020 at 12:43 PM UTC
When you feel your gut twist in a painful symphony of sadness, and your throat feels so dry that it hurts, and your eyes burn in unenviable disgust of your emotional fragility, and your vision is clouded where your body threatens to expose your inevitable failure to everyone that holds some kind of misguided regard to you as a friend. When you feel your face twisting in the agony of finally acknowledging defeat, but you hear the familiar greeting of a helpful passer-by and you tell your body that you're okay and that it needs to get it's **** together and to actually do something useful for once.
You still burn inside, that writhing fever tormenting your torso. You know that you're red in the face with restraint and your fists are balled with outrageous embarrassment - but you have no tears...
where did they go?
Are they still lurking in the corner of your eyes, waiting for you to mess up again - to let down your guard again - and ambush your heart, already preparing to wreck your body with sobs. Are they waiting for your darkest day to pounce, washing your mind with sadness and forcing you to your knees, weak, cowardly, begging for the forgiveness of whatever sin has caused this living hell. Or, are they going to attack softly, silently, seeping through your skin like death coloured mist in the nightmarish agony of what society calls despair.
Jul 19, 2017
Jul 19, 2017 at 4:24 AM UTC
*The power of pain is ungoverned
As faith slowly bleeds out
Children transfixed and mesmerized
While cannons cauterize our wounds
Mother moon, over hills and lakes
Eyelids can't resist the weight
Arms vanquished and immobilized
As dawn breaks our last awakening
By splendor's dying light
Treason has spoiled meager hearts
Eyes squinting and crestfallen
We are but a fraction of this mutinous crew
For our deaths may be inevitable
And our honor may be unenviable
But betrayal blinks and relapses
As shield and sword seed the earth*
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 3:04 PM UTC
quarter turn of a century
can't relieve this quandary;
what run across our puerile minds,
raising up these woollen blinds?
perhaps another season; two
to find for us a useful clue
we stand upon a smouldered wreck
in this our unenviable trek
from these ashes phoenixes arise
Apr 22, 2022
Apr 22, 2022 at 1:23 AM UTC
Oppenheimer knelt before death as the destroyer of worlds.
As only Ozymandius stood previously.
He was anointed, and found guilty
The curse to challenge and defy Death's wisdom and mercy...
To usurp "the bringer"
Required only a more certain demise
Several had met the challenge to arrive on the Black Dais,
But death himself remained triumphant
Asbestos, mesothelioma, lawyers,
Each took their place but never challenged Perdition directly
Until one so overtook him
Hell shook Oppenheimer from it's shoulders
The place itself defying it's judges.
Discarding death with him
Oppenheimer - prime acolyte of the light
Who could best even death at being the inevitable and unenviable end
Except life and light herself
Vitae stood guilty in her own judgement
Dismissing the darkness into half-forgotten memory
A shade now unchallenged, an undeniable answer
Her frail form untethered, and expanding into decay.
Vitae cleft her left arm
Forming it into an inkwell
And shaping her right into a quill
She began to write her story again...
"Let there be light"
We must go on
Dec 27, 2023
Dec 27, 2023 at 8:10 PM UTC