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Cindra Carr Nov 2011
The fatigue flows through me
As if it has invaded the marrow of my bones
Leaking out into the flesh
Rendering me paralyzed in an unfocused state
I sleep to live and wish only to end the dulled mind set
It’s crushing to find that shard of thought
Urging me to get up
Do not sleep, it whispers
There is too much to do, the insidious trails of ideas speak
The words taken down seek to undo the restlessness
The blurred vision of the time slipping past in red numbers
Sleep, my body cries
Wait a minute more, my mind calls back
Sleep deprived with burning eyes
A single tear breaks the tie
I cannot go on
Sleep calls me back
Pulling me down to the place I cannot ignore anymore
Sleep, my body whispers
Sleep, my mind sighs

Sophia Apr 2018
a tear drops from her eyes
and it brings no cause
though it quivers with emotion

and the stars do not shine brighter
when polished with her briny tears
but dim their glow and listen
to her sobbing
but wait
her capillaries will burst!
stop it!
stop it!

its translucence
its opaqueness
the inherent contradictions it produces
and the images it emanates

so while her eyes may open
they are unfocused
and gone
and the click of their judgements is obscene
because her soul has escaped

where has it gone?
she swears she saw it just a moment ago
just a moment
just a moment
just a moment
Cindra Carr Nov 2011
We drift through the moments
Of silence in our flickering thoughts
Who are we then?
Brief lapses of lost identities
With none of the trappings of personality
Lies the mind tells itself drop and fall away
Folded up memories cleared
To allow the blank shuffling
Faraway stares unfocused on the present
Drifting moments of silence in flickering thoughts

Deb Jones Dec 2018
Sometimes my words tiptoe in
Hiding in the shadows
Peeking behind curtains
And under beds
Climbing under covers
I shiver

Sometimes my words
Have teeth
Biting and tearing
I struggle to contain them
Lest they offend
But usually fail

Sometimes my words
Are as my lips
Soft and tender
So ready to surrender
Sensuously sliding
Along a cheek, whispering

Sometimes my words
Are as wild as birds
Starlings dancing on the wind
Set to beautiful music
And synchronized waltzes
The beauty makes me cry

Sometimes my words
Are like a hot ball in my throat
I almost choke on them
I keep my teeth clenched
Because I can’t contain
The pain

Sometimes my words
Are in my tears
I need to share
Prepare, exposing
Realizing I am minimizing

Sometimes my words
Are in my eyes
The green facets
Like a gem, glitter
I am wild and unfocused
But once penned
I rarely rewrite
Noah Oct 2018
He was the warrior king.
He was known for being strong.
He was Mogar.

Shallow breaths passed through his lips.
Hot tears rolled down his cheeks.

Arms wrapped tightly around him.
Knees pulled close to his chest.

He tried to hold himself together.

How did he get here?

Unable to laugh or smile.
Unmotivated and unfocused.
Unable to sleep or eat.

An empty shell.

Devoid of all emotion but one:


He was ashamed.
Ashamed he couldn't push through.
Ashamed he wasn’t strong enough.
Ashamed that he was broken

He was the warrior king.
Lea Loveit May 2018
Warm air swarm
Expecting less than nothing
Except whatever the term
Is for the birth of a cling

The bass of the wind
Sing a song so unnoticed
As the world spins
Such goes unfocused

The pure curiosity
Stopped me from logic
Pausing from the worlds atoricty
A chance- joyous or tragic

I listen close
As the air sings about my beauty
You are the choice I chose
Who responded with vehement duty

Kissing so slow yet perfect
The wind, the song, the feeling in slow motion
For once everything clicked
Flowing like an ambivalent ocean

How this unfolds?
Possibilities are many
For now it’s unknown
But I expect something funny

During this pause in life
I let the wind’s ardor in
Penetrating deep like a knife
Careless to realize it’s a sin

Two beings acting as one
Forever in a still moment
Ending the timeless fun
Although words were barely spoken

Wind handled with care
Yet I crave more
Let’s do it again, I dare
Aiming slowly not in a tore.
This poem is about a man named Salvatore. I was day dreaming about a ****** encounter with him during a warm spring night. While people were walking, talking, and living, I focused on the light wind blowing as I thought of him. I named it Tore because I wanted to be subliminal to him.

Stanza 1- I feel the air around. I think of the night and the amount of time before the act. I didn’t expect a thing but I was interested, noticing the start of the attraction or “clinging” on to him

Stanza 2- i vision this while I hear the wind blow. As the wind is unnoticed so is the he. As things happen around me and him, the world starts to dim and he starts to be my focus

Stanza 3- I was curious in him. I stopped thinking and imagined the possibilities, regardless of what’s going on around me. The last line enhances the chance regardless if it goes well or not.

Stanza 4- I focus harder on this wind as I reminisce on us being alone. He notes my beauty. The third line “ you are the choice I chose” has the word choice means great. The sentence means I fully decided this is what I want. It’s meaningful because this is something I wanted & it was mutual.  He responded with such passion and romance.

Stanza 5- he took things slow— which was great. I got to take in every moment. Everything came together.  Although this was all great I began to have feelings making me second guess my choice.

Stanza 6- because of my mixed emotions I start to question the result of this. He makes me laugh, I know I can count on him making me smile.

Stanza 7- during this drift away from my current reality I let the “wind’s,” which is now Salvatore,  passion in. As deep as a knife can get, he was in me. I didn’t care if it was a sin because it was extremely passionate

Stanza 8- we are as one. The oxymoron “forever in a still moment” & “ending the timeless fun” represents how this felt so lasting but at some point it had to end. It also represents the moment I took away from my reality to remember this moment. We barely spoke to each other but actions spoke louder.

Stanza 9-He was sensitive and made sure not to hurt. I wanted more. Now that it’s over I dare us to do it again. Tore in the last sentence means to hurry or speed up. But Tore also represents him. Contrary to the word being in his name, he aimed solely.

I never explain my poems but I wanted to paint what was in my head. This took place in the city while the encounter took place in a house. Both happened in a busy area. People around talking loud and interacting with each other. Yet we found our “wind” in each other to take a moment out of reality and focus on each other. Something I want again.
Tommy Randell Apr 2015
This is the house that ego built

This is the mind all callused and worn
Its ethical basis tattered and torn
That sits in the house that ego built

This is the heart exposed for your scorn
That believes it is right and can do no wrong
That governs the mind
That lives in the house that ego built

This is the lifeblood of laughter and fun
That flows through the flesh that clings to the bones
That cages the heart that governs the mind
That dreams in the house that ego built

This is the stomach ulcerated with guilt
That feeds on the justice of a knife ****** to the hilt
Into the innards of turmoil and bile
That brings queasy reality into a mind
That rots in the house that ego built

This is the skeleton of upright intent
Its bones a geometry and rosary of ailments
That scaffolds a life of sheer ****** mindedness
That never quite does what the mind intends
In this ruin of a house that ego built

This is the skin that keeps it all in
That brings order and calm to the chaos within
Though it wrinkles with age, transparent and worn
A castle of walls, a house not a home, that ego built

And these are the eyes unfocused and white
Their cataract curtains dimming the light
On the ghosts and the memories wandering inside
What's left of the house that ego built

Man becomes man, life becomes life
A notorious continuance without rest or respite
Bricks become clay, clay becomes dust
Where now is the house that ego built?

Where is the mind, where has it gone
The purpose and promise of which it was born
The ego that dreamed of a house to be built?

These thoughts are the dust of all that was willed.
Brian Apr 2019
Focusing straight ahead, unfocused, as
sound waves pleasure my ears.

Unconsciously conscious as
wind slaps my face with life.

Freely taking mandatory curves as
heat permeates my being.

Arriving oriented, confused as
the clouds uncloud my vision.

A journey's end, a beginning as
I ponder "how did I get here?"
Ever just drive and lose yourself?
Devika S Apr 2019
It is 6:45 am; weary eyes stare into a wall – unfocused and aimless
Each blink heavy; every breath filled with void
Dodder down the passage, meeting folk who couldn’t care less
Hark to their pleas of ‘Keep hope!’ and Alas! Thou art decoyed

Hope will aye usher in a new world, sure
Of bluer skies, greener lawns, and merrier smiles
The perfect silver lining to rose-tinted eyes pure
And stay there thou shalt, yearning for golden times

It will deflate one day – the delusive scheme called ‘Hope’
Dreams now shrapnel, will cut through tenderness of thy being
Holding heart wrecks, a scathed soul will mope
Albeit thy life be torn asunder, my dearest, bypass the hope swing
Eris Sep 2018
I'm afraid of losing those closest to me,
Even though they keep using for their sake of amusing,
Which always ends up bruising and confusing,
Because I always end up mischoosing and pursuing,
In the people that end up accusing,
One another for always losing,
In the the strife they keep on infusing,
Which leaves me choosing,
On whether or not I should keep moving,
Even though the blood keeps on oozing,
Because I keep on refusing,
To be introducing to those who are blooming,
Because of the bondness I've had with the closest
Which leaves me unfocused and unnoticed,
So I'm afraid my diagnosis,
Is that I will never be victorious of this atrocious,
Because of my loyalty to the closest
Oskar Erikson May 2019
slip pin g  out of vie w
                                  the words elude.
  so keep there
the                 eyes
at paper or/// screen till the sentence---- rushes into sight.    
              break it.
                        ^^                  butcher it.
     keep it.<<      >>  analyse it.
  toss it .                                         kiss it.

where w a  s it?                  was it ee ee e even here?

a tremor in the night
awoken without the memory
(all poets say is a million different "I can't love you any other way.")
of a line i wanted to write.
Ellis Reyes Aug 2019
In the small house down the block...

Hundreds of tangerine air fresheners
hang from the ceiling.

Cars come and go
At all hours
Furtive movement
Car to house
House to car

In the dim light
bills are traded for small baggies
Bits of chemical provide relief.

Children play
Ignorant of the filth that surrounds them

In the small house down the block...

Plastic buckets
Chemicals and bleach
Hollow-eyed adults use long sticks
to stir the brew
Fiberglass respirators and rubber gloves protect them
There is no God here.

Children play
Happy, smiling

In the small house down the block...

Skeletal adults are strewn
randomly on floors    couches   and     chairs
Sleeping the non-sleep of the drugged undead.
Cigarettes and blunts burn in ashtrays.
Roaches and rats feast
on ignored food

A child challenges a rat for pizza
She brushes off the bugs
Hunger overtaking revulsion
She bites down
Weekends are bad
Monday she'll eat again
at school
Where she's fed
her only reliable meals.
-- she hates Spring Break --

In the small house down the block...

A toddler bobbles around
He looks into this
He looks into that
Curious about the world around him

A bucket with bubbles
That's fun.
The bubbles are deep
He leans over
He reaches
down, down, down

It must have been the sirens
that caused them to stir.
It wasn't his agonized screams
It wasn't the girl's wailing and tears
Huh? Wha?
They rise
Unfocused, unaware, unconcerned

3:19 PM

In the small house down the block...
A 17 month old boy dies of chemical burns
To the eyes, nose, trachea, and lungs

The skeletal adults are angry
that they will receive $357.84 less
in welfare payments next month.
Based on a true story
Suresh Gupta Aug 2019
The Reflection



As always, lost in thoughts of no consequence
oblivious to the store fronts, an evening stroll
a disturbance, I felt, that held me in place
slowly turning, now facing the window, in view
the display, superimposed with reflections
all is familiar, the images and the reflections
both static and non, beside me as well as behind
what's amiss, the mind refuses to capture
and then, yes then, the invisible, surfaces
amiss from this collage, is my reflection

That disturbance in the force, strongly felt
in place of my reflection, a mist, a haze taking shape
unfocused mind, forming images when non exist
overlaying the mannequin, with a familiar outline
yet everything else, front n surrounding, sharp n clear
captive of that disturbance, motionless, fixated
image forming, taking shape, an outline of my reflection
image with no mass, then I realize the nature of
that which is known to me, that which has left me,
that which has been with me, has grown as I have,
from birth, that which knows me, but that which
I have only now understood, that illusive self
a view, the very few, if any, are privileged to know
as I exhale for the last time/my last breath/for the final time
as if bidding goodbye, with serenity, my aura, my soul
Nobody Aug 2018
My smile makes my lips crack and bleed.
No time to laugh, joy produces a sting;
that burns through my chest,
leaving my senses weak.
I struggle to keep breathing,
every breath pierces and aches;
my mind unfocused, my body sick.
I can’t function in this place,
nothing makes sense.
I can barely lift my legs, or stand up straight.
My throat is sore and my skin is burned,
I don’t know how much more heat I can take.
My body scorched, miserably withered, and worn.
Pathetically limping through miles of hell,
I look down and see my skin start to melt;
fast winds blow sand, straight up to the sky.
I’m blinded, and fall, as it scratches my eyes.
I’m so tired from traveling, the desert of my mind.
Referenced one of my favorite bands.
JT Sep 2019
The walls are
Closing in
The silence
Is unbearable
My breaths
Come faster
Chest heaving
Wild eyes
Digging into my skin
To ground me
Tunnelling vision
Losing strength
I can’t breathe
Deafening silence
Desperately grasping
For anything
To ground me
Nails digging into skin
Biting my lip


Rory Mels Tims Dec 2018
I've never been here before.
But I feel at home,
And nothing connects.
I want to know more.
My thoughts roam,
As my mind forgets.

This place is new
So is this view
And the people that I now love
Do not exist--

I've never been here.
But I belong here.

Am I another me?
I can Dream,

Things seem
Surreal, and Unreal, never Real--
The can't be real
Foggy and Warped, Disproportionate and Unfocused.

I wish I could stay in this dream.
A story, but even more alive.
A journey, of amusement and adventure.
I <i>know</i> it's a dream,
But I can't seem
To care.
I just want my mind to take me

Let me dream
The world away.
Nahal Mar 2019
The nature of my being
It's absolutely worth you seeing
I'm sporadic and unfocused
My brain swarms with ideas like locusts
The passion and subjection to spontaneity
When I'm sad and lost I pray to a deity
I can be doubtful of self
In these times, my emotions are stacked away high on a shelf
It's almost a cliche, it's a dusty bookcase
You wouldn't even be able to read my, generally animated, face
But get to know me, truly
I will feel everything in a manner: unruly
Right now it's time to know who I am
Ghormeh sabzi tastes better with a meat, such as lamb
Because I'm not vegetarian anymore
I used to be, with conviction, I'm sure
Don't tempt me with your lips
That's if you're looking for relationships
Tempt me with your personality
I want a sense of familiarity
Qualyxian Quest Jul 2019
At times I barely function
The anxiety pins my mind

Unfocused, fearful, unorganized
anguish ahead, regrets behind

The darkness keeps on creeping
but oh! that twilight sky I find!

to undo the blind brutality
for her and them, something quiet kind
Classy J Nov 2018
Intro: You know, I don’t care what you’re saying about me.
For I’m not an insecure ***** like you but I do got to thank thee.
For if it weren’t for thy vile venom spitting I wouldn’t have a reason to enact my lyrical terrorism!
So, you only have yourself to blame for this ****, so don’t say I didn’t warn ya.

Verse 1
Uh, yeah let’s talk about it!
Can’t contemplate, the vicious state that contrary to popular belief I’m not a basket case!
Can’t misuse the time I got so here I go to vanquish these fraudulent thots!
Started an unfocused freight train that charged towards the lucid dream because I couldn’t assimilate!
In that time, I was so focused on changing everyone’s snot ridden hypocrisy about reality being Camelot.
I know I’ve also ****** up a lot but that’s something I had to face!
It’s not any of your business so stop ripping off my skin then rubbing in the salt!
I still have a goal in mind to destroy discrimination that incriminates my people,
by putting em on the hot seat.
So now that every one is up in arms I got my chance to aim at the sweet spot!
Everyone is hungry to be the fittest but not everyone has time to think how to be the smartest.
To strike will the fire’s hot or wait for the embers to spark and settle is the true test for an artist.
Who cares about the lines when it was never rightfully drawn in the first place?
Who cares about what spot or space is for you when it’s all been delegated to the privilege of a certain race?
I can only undergo so much disgrace So, sorry but I’m not willing to have my people’s history erased!
Free speech is going to be a ***** for some and a tool for others, I guess it all depends on that person’s poker face.
Inequality is frequent not just in Canada or The United States but every country, province, and common place.

Verse 2
You want the real, raw, unfiltered Classy J well here you go!
Uh, Tell Trudeau to kiss my *** and stop ******* Trump’s ****!
While you’re at it can you tell your father that he’s a ******* stupid *****!
Also, totally forgot but can you tell Kim Jon un when he’s shafting you that he’s a ******* Buffoon!
But’s that’s enough about ******* politics let’s talk about ******* rap artist’s who think they’re hot but really, they so tacky and obsolete like the Zune.
To mister bi-racial we get it you’re into being superficial but’s honestly with you being so focused on being a ****** your delivery showcases the truth that you’re really a cringy ******.
Just face the fact dude that people will only see ya as a juggaloed Dolph Ziggler.
Uh, Now on to the next!
Dear mister Young moolah imma be front, you look like diseased uvula with the lyrical skill comparative to that of an elementary grade schooler.
Now to address the biggest flacky ***** in the game the not so slim shady.  
Here’s the matter Mr. Mather’s you look like a hobo who ***** guys off around the corner,
maybe that’s why you always diss homos.
Because youse a **** trapped in your mommas’ closet,
and if wasn’t for Dre’s hand up so far up your *** you wouldn’t be as popular of a puppet.
Oh ****, Shady you so focused on Doctor Dre and acclaim to fame that you forgot about Hallie.
****, and speaking of Hallie, I feel for you girl because just like you I also didn’t have a dad there for me.
I’m a man of war so every rapper got to get their **** together and better be prepared to me seriously.
For Imma slit their throats and turn em inside out rigorously, and I make sure those tardy cats will rule the day they ever had curiosity.

Verse 3
Just remember my people were here before you, and will be here after you!
And I’ll be here to destroy any of you who dare to pursue native issues!
Or if I’m just bored and feeling like killing you!
However, if I forget about dealing with you, I’m just to busy to properly give a **** about you!
It’s not just revenge, I see it as using justice by retorting with my wordplay to cleanse ya like shampoo!
But I’ve spent enough time dissing freeloaders, for it gives their ego’s too must **** exposure!
I won’t coaster to these composers, for a chauffeur can’t gain an advantage over a soldier!
I wont lower myself to these grouchy Oscar’s, who hunt for Grammy’s;
or as I refer to these events as pedantic half ***’d statements for excepting grandiose toasters.
Why bother, for it’s so annoyingly stupid that I would rather waste my time watching a movie featuring Adam *******.
So, **** this glass ceiling that defines and dictates what makes up a talented rapper.
I may not be a ******* goat but at least I’m confident enough to go out in my birthday suit and retain my composure for being dapper.
That’s the synopsis of my classy brain, and though it may be insane I’m willing to ride this hurricane!
To make sure you know my name, but yet not let myself get engulfed in the flames.
ramenoodle Oct 2019
Laying there eyes glazed unfocused,
I wonder
What do you see?
Do memories flash across your eyes?
Memories of your hometown.
when you were younger
Your family some who have passed and few who are still living
The heat and humidity of your hometown ruled under a regime you fought against passionately yet futilely
The trek through the ocean to freedom, to the free world with your two younger sons
Or do you see them now grown up?
Your sons and daughters now parents
Their children now adults
They bustle around you busy as you lay still
chest heaving, body tired, breath light
phones ring
nurses come past
an anticipation pungent in the air
a sadness pervades the house
love fills the surroundings
as cries slice through the air
your family watches you and
you are no longer looking back.
It's been 5 years since I last wrote the poem Old Man Sitting. Here is an update.

— The End —