"unfortunates" poems
THERE'S RUDOLPH, FROSTY, SANTA CLAUS AND GOOD OLD EBENEEZER
THERE'S CAROLS SUNG BY EVERYONE FROM KISS ON THROUGH TO WHEEZER
THERE'S CD'S OUT FROM NAT KING COLE, THE BOSTON POPS HAVE TWO
THERE'S ONE OUT NEIL DIAMOND WHICH IS STRANGE BECAUSE OLD NEIL'S A JEW
THE STORES HAVE TINSEL EVERYWHERE, THEIR TREES TOO,LOOKING NICE
THERE'S WRAPPING PAPER, CHRISTMAS LIGHTS AND EVEN PLASTIC ICE
THEY ATTACK YOUR SENSES CONSTANTLY, THEY MUST THINK I'M A FOOL
FOR ALL THIS STUFF IS ON DISPLAY, BEFORE THE KIDS GO BACK TO SCHOOL
THERE'S A RASTAFARIAN SANTA CLAUS WITH DREADLOCKS KNOWN AS "STONEY"
GENETICALLY ALTERED TURKEY MEAT THAT TASTES JUST LIKE BALONEY
PEOPLE DON'T BUY CHRISTMAS GIFTS THEY SEEM TO JUST GIVE MONEY
SO THEY GO SHOPPING BOXING DAY, AND THIS I FIND QUITE FUNNY
THE CHARITIES ARE ON THE PHONE AND AT YOUR DOOR EACH NIGHT
THEY WORK YOU WITH SOME CHRISTMAS GUILT, AND SAY "IT'S ONLY RIGHT"
TO DONATE TO UNFORTUNATES AND THEIR FOLKS NEED IT MOST"
AS THEY FLASH THEIR SMILES, FAKE I/D'S BEFORE THEIR PHONY BOAST
PEOPLE SHOP AND BUY AND BUY AND THEN THEY ALL RE-GIFT
MOST TIMES YOU'LL GET CHRISTMAS CAKE, THAT'S REALLY HARD TO LIFT
YOU WORK O.T. AND DO YOUR BEST, YOUR CHRISTMAS CASH TO SAVE
AND YOU SMILE WHEN YOU GET YOUR GIFT, AND IT'S THE ONE YOU GAVE
CHRISTMAS IS LESS FESTIVE AND TO ME IT'S GOTTEN RATHER CLINICAL
WITH SCHEDULES MADE AND SALES AND THINGS, IT'S MADE ME RATHER CYNICAL
TO SAY WHAT CHRISTMAS REALLY MEANS, I READ THOMAS ACQUINAS
BUT INSTEAD, I'LL USE A QUOTE FROM SHCULTZ'S PROPHET LINUS
..."AND SUDDENLY THERE WAS WITH THE ANGEL A MULTITUDE OF THE HEAVENLY HOST PRAISING GOD
AND SAYING "GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST, AND ON EARTH PEACE, GOODWILL TOWARD MEN.""
AND THAT IS WHAT CHRISTMAS IS ALL ABOUT....PLAIN AND SIMPLE.
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 3:13 PM UTC
Like so many
Lemmings
they rush to southern climes for
greener pastures
year round golf a
Slower pace
Cheaper prices and
Tropical temperatures
Leathery
Tanned
Unnaturally taut and
Sun-spotted
they crowd the local haunts and
Clog the highways.
At best they tolerate whoever is not
Pensioned or
Privileged
At worst they ban the
Underage
Unfortunates
from their gated communities
and social gatherings
The pendulum has swung from a time
when the Old were at the
Mercy of the Young
to the present
when Youth is
Oppressed by Senescence
Once democracy’s backbone they now wax
Conservative having obtained their
Slice of the pie
Now there is no pie
Mother Earth has been trampled to death and the
Toiling hands of those who
Stoke the fires of industry are
Blistered and discouraged
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 2:27 PM UTC
Can I illustrate beauty
without the help of my eyes?
Will I be able to see the sunlight
the clouds floating above
the marvel of the skies?
Having tried it and succeeded
I was absorbed with fascination.
The blind described as unfortunates
yet now I can enjoy the mystery of touch
become suspended with satisfaction.
I can touch anything with my eyes folded
from animals and other objects.
yet the human bodies are far better
they’re so warm and so soft
can’t be compared with other subjects.
Feeling bodies so atmospheric and tense
especially the sensation of a woman’s skin.
The touch of women’s flesh befitted my addiction
their faces, hips, thighs and legs
fondling them like playing the violin.
Touching flesh became my fixation
spending most time contemplating the feeling.
Night and days eyes shut in darkness
caressing bodies in my over imaginative mind
satisfactory, but not so accommodating.
Pictures, portraits and views for the eye
soft sounds, loud sounds for the ear and the mind.
I have touched pots and pans, table and chairs
establishing for good the power of feeling
the forbidden touch prudently refined.
----------
I didn’t notice anything not around me
I felt my whole behaviour very strange.
I was crouched at the foot of her body
what happened next was totally unexpected
it seemed my body was about to interchange.
My body was becoming entangled with hers
it felt like my hands and hers were divine.
Every time I touched her face I felt it on mine
same with messaging her thighs, stroking her legs
so frightened it sent shivers down my spine.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 10:19 AM UTC
Do you remember what’s her name?
From the Little Mermaid?
She was 50% octopus
30% Janet Reno
And 20% Elton John
Well, she used to be my choir teacher
Only I never really learned how to sing
Because I would spend each class period
Trying to avoid her tentacles
“LOUDER!
You sound like you’re underwater!”
Oh, I thought you already knew?
I hope you don’t think
I was trying to insult Elton
By comparing him to a monster
Because
For a witch
For a monster
She did have a great set of pipes
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 12:44 AM UTC
I simply can't
Time doesn't heal all wound.
"The wounds remain,
over time the mind,
protecting its sanity
covers them with scar tissue
and the pain lessens
but it never leaves"
"...unrequited love does not die
it's only beaten down to a secret place where it hides,
curled and wounded.
For some unfortunates,
it turns bitter and mean,
and those who come after
pay the price for the hurt done
by the one who came before.”
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC
If not death what could
spring roses from your
palm, if not my
departure what could
lift your eyes from
screen to mine.
If not change what could
erode at this Jericho of a friendship.
Apr 19, 2021
Apr 19, 2021 at 4:51 PM UTC
"I write poetry," you laugh, "I can tell beautiful lies..."
Sadly clever, your decoys reaching out to the dendrites of trees
desolated by winter, fingertips in their severe shapes stroking
lungs turned inside out so that they might breathe for you
when the patterns of things become as unwoven as they seem
and a dark symmetry throws smoke across the mirrors. All the
mirrors are rippling, frail as moonlight on the ruptured skein
of whatever is left of the water and then only the good doctor
as you turn to undress before the open door, waits.
You whisper: "I will tell lies you will want to believe."
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 11:34 PM UTC
Time was, when I thought it strong,
to hold back and block all my feelings.
Inestimable the emotional devastation
I doled out on those unfortunates who loved me.
How can you dam it up so?, said the therapist's stare,
still her empathy opened my mind to smiling,
chiseled my heart from the glacier.
And slowly I learned to act out my dreams,
the wounded clown learned to cry.
Pride bled in the thickets of human ***********
Now, when I dream of life, I am perfectly amazed,
my singular life drawn to those who loved me regardless.
Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 7:48 PM UTC
If only we could read minds,
what we might find might not mightly suprise us.
Nuture made it so,
that our appearances might suggest our certainty on which way to go.
One sense
suggests we belong there.
One stare,
suggests admiration
or irritation.
Its all in our heads.
One sentence made,
even when we dont really mean it.
Its all in our heads.
Goals become unclearer
and more in number
as the seconds make us older.
Its all in our hands.
They say Fate can not be changed.
Truth is,
people say alot of things so that the things they are used to might not be changed.
Its all in our hands.
Life is not a slow walk.
The unfortunates might happen,
so long we can lift a leg,
the trophy is ours.
Everything we see,
both in the physical and spiritual realm
was created with the mind,
the Oven of the Future.
The future is there,
we are here,
our minds up here.
We are getting there.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 5:12 AM UTC
Death watches us all.
At our birth, death lies beyond sight
and is merely informed of our existence.
But as time progresses, death plods forth
from beyond the horizon to the fog’s end.
At that point, death watches,
looming in the distance,
standing, dark as night.
For _the unfortunates_ death comes early.
For _the over-extenders_ death waits patiently.
But for all, death comes.
We near death; death nears us,
counting down our every breath
until the last.
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 1:48 AM UTC
This actually happened in Center City Philadelphia
in a actual setting along the underground Broad Street
giant concourse. We always had a few homeless people
surviving underground but an explosion of homelessness
occupied during the Bush Regime. It got so bad that police dogs were used to chase these unfortunates away...
There's a little bit of Bushville under Broad Street
between Spruce and City Hall
There's a little bit of calamity between idle minds
and idle hours, between quick-dirty-ground-naps,
police harsh tongue slaps and paper wraps
strewn helter skelter all about,
between dismal gatherings
of few laughter and just for basic survival
There's a little bit of Bushville
in saddened eyes and some veterans' ***** faces;
long unkempt beards
and bodies that lay limp in rags under cardboard in fetal
positions
There's a little bit of Bushville in hearts of broken promises
There's a little bit
of Bushville in ***** stench
and ***** walls and ***** ground made black
There's a little bit of Bushville in all our conscious-hearts,
too much, too much to do
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
Rearing a fierce rain inside.
Wild, crazy, hungry,
yet humble;
Fulfilled like taking a day's last meal!
Escaping from the human language,
obscure talk among clouds.
Sweet scream across the sky.
No grim,
just waiting for sudden rain stream.
Lonely rain drops,
falling in the midnight.
Whispering to my drowsy soul.
Chilly wind touches the salted cheeks.
Melting my frosty pole.
The pure melody of rain is not for an impure heart;
Though the pure always meets an impure!
I wonder how thousand fates are composed in one hand,
Some unfortunates never find the cure.
Living in an earthly delusion,
Still thinking like a new comer;
Who expects again.
But end of the day,
The lonely soul bears that same fierce rain!
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 10:21 AM UTC
Is love so elusive
as to never be found
i wonder why its so
do others flee from me
repulsed by my presence
or does distain for others
reside deep inside
and erode those unfortunates
the few that I touch
until they can no longer hold on
and their grasp is dissolved
and I'm here alone again
what inside me causes this
how can I change it
I feel so isolated
as to be driven insane
like a prisoner in solitary confinement
scribbling on black walls
for years spent suffering
silently waiting for reprieve
free me from this ******* Lord
Only God can save me
from a life of anguish amidst nothing
but the sound of my own breath
how i long to know, Lord
why you gave this life to me
and how i can serve you
and return it with interest
pain is a familiar friend
and sorrow is often my company
how i desire joy to come to me
and remain forever more
but joy will not embrace me
it will only visit briefly
and reject my pleas to stay
as if I have somehow injured it
and finally given it an excuse
to leave me to my tears
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 3:32 PM UTC
A gift from above they are.
Tender lilies who sprawl in skies beyond.
Like needs , they seldom a-bound.
A cause of laughter to those that are lucky.
An Eyre of hope for the newly joined.
But, bone of tears to the unfortunates.
The sole reasons for joint couples.
Joy unspeakable they brought to homes.
Some choose to walk in twos.
Many others embrace to walk alone.
Like Golden fish, that holds no grudge,
Like birds, who have no worries of greed,
Like teddies, with utmost friendliness,
Like Arrows in the hand of a warrior,
So are Children.
they are a rare gem.
they deserve our love and care.
Happy Children's Day.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 7:45 AM UTC
I stare at my computer screen
hearts beating rapidly back
the stamping of feet at a stadium
Some hearts are glowing
filled with radium
some show a mass of white fat
too many years eating fast food
some are near death
flies soaring over a gray mass
anticipating the final thump
Occasionally I see healthy hearts
scrolling down my screen boldly
on a journey of self-experimentation
I let them breeze by on their voyage
careful to only pick the unfortunates
grabbing them from the screen
as if they were an apple on a shelf
I empty the heart of radium
letting the poison fill me instead
causing an earthquake in my head
I eat the white fat off the heart
feeling it travel down my esophagus
like a delayed release cyanide pill
I swat the flies off the gray mass
holding it to give my energy
my hair whitens and skin loosens
Collapsing with a loud crash
my face staring at the screen
holding tears back like rowdy children
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 3:00 PM UTC
When are you going to admit to yourself that he never took that **** in the first place?
That he never believed those sullen faces you wore
Or the stories you told about your broken heart
That had been “true” but sounded so far-fetched and wrong!
He never felt sorry for you
Or thought about you in the middle of the night
No, he never would have!
He hadn’t wasted a tear over you
And that wasn’t because boys didn’t usually cry
But because he had no ******* point to!
For his infrequent sympathy
You were an unlikely choice
Didn’t you know!
And all the more time you pray for him to give in
To want to hold you in his arms because he thought you needed someone
How are you so capable of that trickery!
You need someone like you need air
You need someone to hold you and tell you it’s alright, it’s okay
Yet you plan on playing them and at long last devouring their sole love for life itself!
You’re a monster
A parasite
A control freak!
It’s someone’s sincere grief that stimulates your iron fist around the more unfortunates’ throats
You’ll flatten them for sympathy and pity
Until their necks snap!
No, I’m glad he saw through your disguise
I’m glad he saved himself from the pain in the end
When you would hurt him more than you ever were to begin with!
Jul 30, 2011
Jul 30, 2011 at 12:53 PM UTC
in the middle of my eighth grade year
by unfortunates there was the new girl.
her name was simple.
simple could be the word to describe her.
however simple meaning anything but plain.
she was thin, tall
a wisp of a girl
with short blond hair,
and bright blue eyes.
she was kind.
the popular ate her up right away,
changed her,
put her through trials versus herself
made her into one of their own
a shell of a former simple girl
where simple used to be the word to describe her,
however simple meaning anything but plain.
with a former simple name
who still is thin, and tall
a wisp of a girl
who was kind
who still has short blond hair
but empty blue eyes.
|m.s.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 11:49 PM UTC
This incurable wave of unclean faces
parade outside my fragmented window
holding their hands out in desperation
waiting for the sirens all clear command
Above the heads of these unfortunates
grey skies are laced with despondency
whist I dwell in the tower of hateful things
my sweet brothers do wait and prey for me
It is far too hot in here
this is where evil gives birth
this is the place I must destroy
smash it's filthy walls to the ground
The disciples of war hide deep
in bunkers made of lead dense
an underpass to the towers roots
****** the last refugees of hope
Stand fast my brothers
for I will not disappoint
this day I do now commit
all I have for the faith in good
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
Don’t you ever see,
What you have done to me?
I always think of you,
Every moment, through and through.
In the beginning of the day as I wake,
I see your face before the morning breaks.
In the evening, after the sun goes down,
I pray for you before to sleep I lay down.
Even though from me you are far away,
I desire that you’re with me from day to day.
Holding and embracing you in my arms I envision,
I know, I know they’re part of my illusions.
It’s hard for me to say “I hate you”,
And deep inside I love you, I really do.
I tried to vanish you from my mind,
But in my heart it’s you I find.
To another man I searched for the love I wanted,
But I guess my wishes are not granted.
For what’s in my heart I cannot deceive,
The feelings especially for you I conceive.
I am one of those women, who admired you so much,
Yielding for your love and for your touch.
I am one of those unfortunates by whom you cannot love,
For I know there’s someone out there you wanted to have.
So, here I am sitting in a corner,
Certified member of the group Wall Flowers.
It’s you I always wanted to watch,
While you are still seeking for your perfect match.
I’m hurt when you never even glanced at me,
But at least looking at you is free.
I don’t mind if the oil price increases,
But I do care if to me you give only your kisses.
I see your eyes sparkle when you speak her name,
And mine are getting misty for your love I cannot even claim.
It’s enough for me that you know who I am,
The truth is, inside me I’m having a spasm.
I don’t know why for you I fell,
Even to myself the reasons I cannot tell.
It just happened one day,
That I felt something for you in a different way.
I admit I’m a great pretender,
And you are a Heart Breaker.
Leaving those women weeping,
Never minding what they are feeling.
It’s hard for me to act as if everything’s normal,
And deep inside me, I’m having a burial.
I am not mourning for the dead love from you,
I’m grieving for the wasted affection I wanted to share with you.
If I continue to cherish you, I know the consequences,
But still I took the risk by taking the game of chances.
Now, the time wheel is still turning,
And WE don’t know what the future may bring.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
My car won’t work,
I’m totally *******
It’s acting totally rude;
Imbued with a bad attitude.
Like a metal horse
That needs to be shoed
It’s behavior is almost lewd
Waiting around for a rich guy
To come and be the dude
I checked to see if the problem is
Lack of water or life-giving crude,
Oil that is, Texas tea.
It’s silly to expect wealth of me
Always broke, an automotive joke.
All I can do is sit and croak
Like the frog on a log spoke
And since my car chose to croak
I gave my mechanic a poke.
He decided my wallet was too full.
Now I’m in the thrall of a lull
With too much idle time to ****
I’ll pay the bill, I know I will,
But still, this whole thing is a pill.
It’s not that I hate holding still,
It’s just that I have so few frills
And this is financially uphill.
I will make it work somehow
But for now, it’s back to the plow
That I’ll pull but don’t know how.
A result of the here and the now.
I may just be whining, not sure
But I see no ready-made cure
For now my sense of loss is pure
And there may be no sinecure.
I just have to grin and endure.
I walk and I wait and I cuss
Waiting for the ever-late bus
To ride with other unfortunates.
At least I’m not on a date
And being embarrassed to state
The case of my pauperish state.
Really, none of this is great.
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 5:04 PM UTC
Mass hysteria, a sea of cudgels,
With one mind, they rush forward,
Bearing down on the unfortunates,
That went in search of greener pastures.
Sep 3, 2019
Sep 3, 2019 at 9:12 AM UTC
This incurable wave of unclean faces
parade outside my fragmented window
holding their hands out in desperation
waiting for the sirens all clear command
Above the heads of these unfortunates
grey skies are laced with despondency
whist I dwell in the tower of hateful things
my sweet brothers do wait and prey for me
It is far too hot in here
this is where evil gives birth
this is the place I must destroy
smash it's filthy walls to the ground
The disciples of war hide deep
in bunkers made of lead dense
an underpass to the towers roots
****** the last refugees of hope
Stand fast my brothers
for I will not disappoint
this day I do now commit
all I have for the faith in good
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 4:58 AM UTC
steam driven and spirit invincible
thundering along the rail tracks to Heaven
waving out the windows with maddening happiness
at the slow plodding unfortunates walking the other way
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 11:44 AM UTC
April is the cruelest month, so some poet said,
Likely vexed to the breaking point by its coquettish nature,
Alternately promising and withdrawing
Sweetness of the warm sun, rustling green blankets of leaves,
The flirtatious, intoxicating perfume
Of the violet and lily of the valley.
For all its coy fluttering of eyelids,
April may delay but never denies,
Yielding its lover’s bounty and then some
To suitors ardent and otherwise.
Its forerunner of two moons prior promises no such delights,
No flora-and-fauna maidenhood as recompense for devotion;
It is the time of purification, of the purge,
A time where light is at a premium,
Often coveted but rarely apprehended, its fleeting manifestations Matters of obfuscation as opposed to illumination,
Soon to be supplanted by fierce meteorological harpies
Short on subtlety but long on effectiveness,
Carrying away those not equipped to resist its peculiar charms
(The too-early runt calf, the aged and nearly-blind collie
Trotting to an unfamiliar field or wood lot,
The newly-solo grandparent acquiescing to the song of the abyss),
The unfortunates consigned to some crypt
Or undisturbed corner of barn or basement,
Proper farewells set aside for some indeterminate time
When it is feasible to block out the knowledge
That the springtime is promised to no man or beast,
Especially at such an interval
Where so little seems to separate one from the other.
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 9:57 AM UTC
I look at you and become selfish and upset
You probably look at me and wonder why?
If you only knew what was deep inside
Then there will be no reason for wondering
I have a soft exterior with a rock solid interior
Though the interior is solid it gets a bit soft
I have feelings and emotions that I want to share with you
But I feel that there is no need
I read those words of wisdom
That say don't miss the chance to say what you feel
In some cases, some feelings are better left unsaid
I'm writing this not to tell you how I feel
I'm writing this to ease my heart
To ease the pain and suffering
That I dealt with for some time
Like I said I look at you
I feel selfish and upset
This time I will tell you
When I'm with you I feel whole inside
I have no worries or fears
All my sadness is gone and all I feel is happiness
I find enjoyment in all the time I spend with you
From the funny jokes to the sad talks
Every moment with you is worth it
You probably wonder then why are you upset
Well this is why
Were just friends
Friendship is important to all of us
But when it comes to you I wish it was more than that
I wanted to be with you
I don't ever want to not have you by my side
I want to take you everywhere with me
To wake up to you
I always wonder what is it like to kiss your lips
To feel your soft body on mines, not sexually but romantically
What is it like to hold your hand to hug you close
To protect you
People see us and say we look great together
I look at us and I know we are great together
When people ask where I am
Nine times out of ten I'm with you
Its funny how we do similar thing couples do
But were not even near being a couple
Its true
Yes, you are my friend
And some relationships can stem from that
Yes, you are my friend
And I rather have you some way then no way
But in my mind you are more than that
You are my center, my balance
You are the ying to my yang
The peanut to my jelly
All those clique things they say when people complete each other
I guess what I really want to say to you
Is that I love you and wish to be with you
But I'm one of the fortunate, unfortunates
I have a best friend, who is you
But that's all well be
Just friends.
I'm not really upset as I write this
I'm not even bitter
I guess I don't want things to change between us
But I know it will
I get upset for the fact that you're not appreciated
That guys hurt you and not know your worth
I remember when you fear being alone
That you are part of the curse
As I told you before
I won't let it happen
If you were to ever read this don't look at me different
Try not to act differently
Just know that you have a friend that deeply cares about you
And that friend will be there forever
To make sure you're always okay
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 2:14 PM UTC