"ungratefulness" poems
The wind howls
outside my bedroom window
shaking me
my heart; my soul
it screams
*while you sit there
drinking sweet-smelling coffee
a baby boy in Africa
cries of hunger
and aching ribs.
while you are curled up
under warm and soft blankets
an old and lonely man
wanders the darkest streets
looking for warmth;
a home
while you hide there
surrounded by light and family
with an aura of ungratefulness
you are lost in the rays of your technologies
with a frown on your angelic face
when a weeping woman
shakes and prays
for her gone children to reach Heaven happily
but you dare forget God to a screen?*
my house shakes
from Wind's agonizing words
and a streak of cold
trickles into my haven
along with the words
"what am I doing?"
somehow
my stiff legs reach
a window
and the arms in front of me
pull it open
to reveal no sound at all
where is the wind?
did he leave just as
he touched
my heart; my soul
making me waver?
or does a gust not howl ,
speak,
and isn't heard?
no
the wind was here
for how else did the once-twinkling snowflakes
suddenly freeze
and lose all of their beauty?
no one but Wind
would take the innocence
of such young and beautiful white specks
just as they landed
in this cold,
dark world
no one but Wind
would flare you with reality
enough to make you cry with obliviousness
for this wind; my Wind
he is the voice off all those
who have faced
life's stinging brutality;
him
instead of
hiding under covers
and whispering morbid lies
that
everything is okay
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 8:47 PM UTC
Brandy,
has been her
drink of choice
for as long as I can recall.
It is again tonight.
And as she scolds me, for my
ungratefulness,
she pours another glass.
I made her feel terrible,
about walking through the living room,
with a spoonful of hot chili.
It was ridiculous,
but she couldn't tell.
So I'll sip my wine upstairs,
and hope that my mom doesn't leave.
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 10:56 PM UTC
When my heart aches and feels squeezed,
Choked up and finding it so difficult to breathe.
Causing my eyes to overflow with tear drops,
Do all I can, but the ungratefulness never stops.
I want so much to live a life of a virtuous woman,
It’s a daily struggle, forgive me Lord for I am human.
I beg You to reach out and take me by my hand,
Precious Lord take me to that glorious promised land,
I want to go home to no more sadness or grief,
Seeing those that have gone before will be such relief.
Not mine will be done here in this unforsaken place,
But, Your will that be done no matter the trials I face.
My plea is for those who use, abuse, and are so unkind,
You place a burden on their hearts to others not be blind.
I lack sympathy for those who choose not to live for you,
Forgive me Lord, help me to lead them for you to rescue.
Only in You will they be forgiven and find saving grace,
That is my precious hope before I depart from this place.
Give us all the love of our Father with eyes of a child,
So that unto others our temper and anger becomes mild.
VLK
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 6:08 PM UTC
There's an ache deep within my heart
An itch that cannot be scratched
Perhaps, a space that cannot be filled in
Currently occupied with anger, confusion, and pain
Nor am I clear on what I'm looking for
But every now and then, the tears do pour in a stupor
...
Is this loneliness?...
But I'm happy alone,
Always been,
happy on my own...
Is this ungratefulness?...
But what is it that is my happiness?...
...
No invitations have been yet sent
It will remain a vacant room, no one to rent
For now and a little bit longer,
... I know,... for sure..
For sure...
As bitter as it is bitter,
let's somehow keep looking for... the better...
The better...
The... better...
?
...
Jun 1, 2022
Jun 1, 2022 at 9:12 AM UTC
An unrequited love that still offers a seemingly patronizing hand of rapport
Is just another way to say "friend zone"
But you'll be dancing in the end zone
After you finally pay your student loan with money from the job you needed a degree to get which called for the loan in the first place
The salt has spilled off the Lazy Susan
Throw it over your right shoulder
Is this my alter ego?
Or do I have a split personality
Maybe this is my light skinned doppelganger
I've got to get these bats out of the belfry
I've got claustrophobic, roided-out butterflies in the pit of my stomach
Busted paper thin lips
A blood sport
Stop it from clotting
Vaccinate me
This vacuum is a rare find
The national demographic is going through culture shock
Assume a surname
Put on the gargantuan pennant
Go to the pulpit and beg for penance
Gridlock
The paleophone is cracked
Study the topography
And pay the bus fare
The squatters who are on borrowed time
Take a swig from the half empty bottle
After searching their whole lives for an even break
But are forced to cut ties and make a clean cut from society
All the lent hands and ears
Are lodged between ungratefulness and exclusive pity parties
Sweet nothings and forget-me-nots
Do a clean sweep
It's imperative to have a method to your madness
A portrayal of eccentric narcissist
Painting self-portraits
While on some kind of wonder drug
Longing for some moral support
Double-dealing
Double crossing
A hypocritical traitor
Who has the right away
I will watch your blood coagulate around the bullet holes
As your body goes into Rigor mortis
I will commit this picture to memory
I would have bet dollars to doughnuts that it wasn't you
But who wudda thunk it?
It's all just an impromptu turn on a dime
That encumbers you with cabin fever
When you're on display in a human zoo
Where unproductive bull sessions are a dime a dozen
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
Don’t hold it against me that I have had a before life,
a life before time
a life before love
a life before sadness
a life before pain
a life before regret
a life before chance
a life before joy
a life before ungratefulness
a life before selfishness
a life before pondering
a life before wondering
a life before faith
a life before apologies
a life before gentleness
a life before kindness
a life before this
a life before tears
a life before killing
a life before war
a life before despair
a life before friendship
a life before triumph
we have all had a before life, or is it all just a dream
Jul 7, 2010
Jul 7, 2010 at 5:07 AM UTC
It amazes me that it took until the last minute of my life-
once lived and defined by the sorrows and my strife,
While I stand below the gallows (at least not by a knife)-
To realize my merits and that my spirit, eroded by my pain,
Was yet still gleaming, and my heart beaming
Though i was about to die.
Yet i stand here above the rest of you, on a stool that i earned;
Below a fitted noose, looking down.
And i see the jealousy in your eyes because you know I've won.
All along, held inside me was the greatness i never felt
And the death i once pondered-the one i sought- was never dealt.
I've come to my ending
Guilty of being grim
Charged with ungratefulness
And convicted of having sinned
Though in the end all that matters,
Was that i fully lived
Though only for one last minute
Ive no more reason to misgive
As the wreath hangs about my neck
I look once more upon your face
I chuckle as i fall
And smile before i brace
Sincerely,
The Merry Hangedman
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 2:41 AM UTC
I can cry whenever I want
It is an actor's dream
I can cry whenever I want
It's just coursing through my veins
That hurt, ungratefulness
Inner discord
It's calling to me
Let it out!
But I hold it in so well
I am a terrible actor
I have an unexpressive face
Or maybe just a lack of courage in expressing emotions
Tears are physical
Aren't they?
Or are they emotional?
I am a terrible actor
Because I'm so good at catching and keeping
What should be out in the open
I can cry whenever I want
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 3:58 PM UTC
The seemingly ungratefulness of this tricky life drives my compulsive mind tumbling into a wild fire of thoughts and sadness
Smashing upon my heart to let go and live what is this heavy chain holding me back, what is there left to lose?
I break free to be cuffed yet again to that **** heavy chain. It's like a glue that is stuck on my soul a leech refusing to budge, ******* it dry.
Life is unfair. Leaving us slaved to its rules. But my heart won't hush. It's lies feeding my mind like I starve for a different ending as these feelings lead me away.
It can't be this complex. Being worked into my grave. Whats left to enjoy but to be miserable until death.
Life fuels the fire for my heart to run astray as my mind attempts to water its ruling blaze.
I can't help but wonder if my mind can ***** out my heart's longing to be free. Knowing I can't tame these feelings I try everything to refrain from going insane.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 6:06 PM UTC
Do you smell the chaotic drift around?
Do you see the darkness, not yet found?
Can you hear the burning temples of unloyalty and ungratefulness towards ancestors?
Can you feel the presence of disorder?
Do you recognize the hate for people over the border?
The disruption won't come to an end, until the last person of our civilization went,
Down to non-existence of men.
We can't just dwell, we're under constant surveillance of people who were told what to do.
They're a bunch of freaking morons.
And we listen and obey.
So that makes us...
A bunch of freaking morons!
We just do as we're told, do what we're supposed to do!
We don't think for ourselves, we're not free!
We aren't nice, we're freaking mean!
We'll never be satisfied, we consume till we're unable to!
We don't share our food, because we worked for it ourselves!
They should earn their own!
We hate the people we don't know, and prejudice is our best friend!
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC
Baltimore
this is a love poem.
Baltimore
this is a break up poem.
Baltimore,
I remember
when I first
fell in love with you.
It was 2012
I wandered around the city
taking ****** pictures of street art.
Took free public transit.
Spent the afternoon
at the old, old red Emma's
back when it wasn't bougie.
Baltimore
I knew what you were
but I couldn't help it,
I fell in love.
Baltimore
I remember courting you,
thinking maybe I could call you
Home.
You
Greatest City in America
you
both
gentrified
and
run down
all at once.
In 2014
you held me
through my numbed out days,
through my drunken nights.
You
with your ****** transportation
that might or might not arrive.
You
with your gentrified Hampden
where I once heard a white man say he felt
"So safe."
You
with your burnt out building I climbed
with a girl
who'd one day leave me behind.
You
with your street cats,
street rats.
You
with the Royal Farms
that sold cheap Mikes Hards.
I could barely love myself,
but
I still loved you.
Baltimore,
I need you to know
that I will always care for you,
but somewhere along the way
something broke in me.
Baltimore,
you held me then,
still hold me even now,
but it's getting time
for me to move on.
It's not you,
it's me.
My restlessness,
my ungratefulness,
of what you've done for me.
My inability to value
potential stability,
potential community.
It's not me,
it's you.
It's all the same with you,
same scene,
same bars,
same parties.
Baltimore,
I love you,
I really do.
Baltimore,
I'm sorry,
but we need to take a break
long-term.
Need to start seeing
other people.
Don't cry,
it's better this way.
And besides,
you're not,
could never truly be
home.
Baltimore
this is a love poem.
Baltimore
this is a break up poem.
Baltimore,
maybe one day
when the dust settles
we can be friends.
But for now,
I need to leave.
I love you.
Good bye.
May 30, 2020
May 30, 2020 at 6:27 PM UTC
We often wonder and question,
the meaning of life.
Focusing our attention,
on a three letter word.
The flaw in our nature;
endlessly analyzing.
With a need to understand,
and be reassured.
A vast ocean of opinions,
each an interpretation.
Never truly certain,
of what remains unknown.
Blinded with ungratefulness,
our gifts' wasted; unnoticed.
Failing to recognize,
the kindness shown.
The sun on this warm day,
shed's light to a new dawn.
Embracing this found focus,
not on why, but W.H.Y.
Wisdom, Humor, Youth.
To live each day wisely,
as eagerly as a child,
laughing until you cry.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 12:30 PM UTC
A cherry fencing: Croton hedges.
Pile wood and bricks made up the circumferences:
I have seen rooftops rusting after weeks of heavy rain
Shirtless cyclist speed passes the old brick house
Where no children seem to exist on the main road;
Where the lambs can be seen grazing on dry lawns,
As the sun ray reflects on your camera lens:
I promise to call you back later
before you drift deeper into a slumber.
Depression, confession and denial,
Reality never seems to exist in your world
There is no solution for chronic unhappiness:
only daily words of kindness to ease the madness
*Love does not claim possession, but gives freedom.
Quote - Rabindranath Tagore*
Did you deserve it, did you deserve to be treated this way
You should have marry the good daughter,
She would have eventually
Turn out to be the good wife:
I am in another town
Thinking of you day by day, hour by hour
Composing a poem while observing,
the good, the bad, and the ugly
Of what family does to each other mental impairment?
A family in harmony will prosper in everything
As the stories were told
Where the beauty used to grow now hatred follows
by the village carpenter putting bolts on the front door
To keep the enemy within: as it was broadcast in the recording:
“There wasn’t any bolts were on the front door Burt, you said”.
The law is that nothing should be done so on the property”
The rose petal crumbles back to the soil, as she said that he was
sick in his head: just like the dead locks on the carpenter head
The garden hose slowly rolled back in a circle. By the sound of her voice
The suffering was so obvious, the abuse was publicize
You drifted back in time: To a place where you felt happiness
You drifted back to me: back to lovely memories
Never mind our outlook on life leads to two different journeys
Broken hearts, and disappointments
We encounter so many injuries and they heal
But broken hearts never mend:
The more I begin to suspect there is no such thing as unhappiness; there is only ungratefulness.”
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 9:06 AM UTC
It's always the same thing day in and day out. The same discussion, the same problems, the same longings. There's nothing I can do to get out of this rut I seem to be stuck in. I can't seem to break this mold. I have nothing to say that I haven't already said; no new emotions, feelings, or thoughts. I'm just so...empty. I should be happy. I have so many reasons to be. But the negativity of those around me has begin to engulf me. I'm downing in a sea of ungratefulness, forgetfulness, hatred, anger, and loneliness. I push everyone away because for some reason I'm still stuck on you. I can't be happy because my family is falling apart, my life is falling apart, my whole world is crumbling before me. I can't even cry about it. I am beyond ready to get out of this goodbye town and start fresh and new. I want to go somewhere and rebuild my outlook on life, love, and happiness. I know that they exist, just...not here. There's nothing this place could offer me. It destroys, distrusts, and degrades. That's not where I want to be.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 2:28 AM UTC
I understand you are trying, really I do
it's not your fault though, it's mine right?
I mean that's what I learned,
you taught it to me remember?
and now I am synonymous with ungratefulness, manipulation, betrayal
I remember nights I was up well past my 8:00 bedtime
too excited to eat
too anxious to sleep
I was happy
because you were almost here
my
Defender
Advocate
Dependable
Devoted
Yes-man
finally come home... but you didn't
you were here until you weren't
you were on your way until you changed your course
you wanted us until you didn't,
but you were always right, always perfect
and we were a game you liked to play until our batteries ran out
now we are Disgusting,
ripped Apart at our seams
yearning to be Desired again in
the midst of Divorce
and You don't even notice us
broken
I am looking at you across the table
both of us too busy assembling our internal defenses with
what we stole from each other to
reconcile
And I, your suffering, shameful son, am tired.
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 7:47 PM UTC
The world is full of pain and inadequacies,
Dripping with many an evil men,
Whose hearts burn with ungratefulness,
Whose desires are only but selfish.
What if, amongst these men,
You came out and stood alone?
Released light amidst darkness,
Radiated your goodness in every corner.
What if you became generous and saved,
Those who are persecuted by the wrath of lack?
Stopped for a while and helped the old woman,
Trying to cross the street while others mock her.
What if you, you never judged anyone?
But showered them with fountains of love,
Made them realize who they are,
And what they can do to change the world.
What if, you appreciated everything around you?
Even if they caused much pain for you to bear,
Is it not what the Good Lord commanded us?
In everything give thanks, always.
If you can honor everything however small they are,
If you can love everyone whoever they are,
If you can learn the art of gratitude in everything,
Then your life would be simple and fulfilling.
© May 2018, Boygene Borice
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 3:22 AM UTC
Thank you for all the times that you:
provided snacks
lent me a blanket
talked me out of climbing that thing
were a shoulder to cry on
gently reminded me we had somewhere to be
told me to let go
forgot how much money i owed you
lent me your notes
put up with my moodiness
and my ungratefulness and my thoughtlessness
were just there
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 7:34 PM UTC
I have legos,
I have toys,
I have videogames,
I have food,
But barely any is what I need or want.
I am spoiled,
I am insulted,
They are kind,
Then they are sour,
They are ok with me
Then they hate me,
My parents,
My aunt and uncle,
They adopted me,
I don't know if the care for me,
They give me stuff,
The reason to shut me up,
I wonder if I just need some attention.
Maybe a childhood.
But no.
It's too late.
My life rate: I can't.
I won't.
I don't,
Because I have my future in mind.
Leave everything behind.
I'll be an author,
Maybe a poet,
I haven't actually tried to write deep poetry,
I just make little rhymes,
Telling my troubles,
But why should anyone care?
My kindness and hate are both not rare.
Life isn't fair.
Saying that doesn't make it better.
I am definitely not grateful for what made my life go like this.
But at least I didn't experience some types of business.
Life, destiny, fate, god, myself, everybody else.
I am not grateful,
If you made me as dead inside as I am.
All I have left is self-pride.
Even that's corrupted and terrible.
My ungratefulness is unbearable.
Why do people think it's still careable?
Feb 8, 2017
Feb 8, 2017 at 9:48 AM UTC
what do you do with a life you don't want
what do you say to the ones you can't have
what do you hear in the wake of the dead,
in the dawn of injustice, to that sunken in head
what do you think when the silence seeps in
when your mind goes awry and mind will not mend
what do you see of the misfortunes given, did you deserve it because of your ungratefulness so long ago
how do you live with the pains of the past, the burdens of blunders, the lies, and the masks
a world full of color but all too blind to see
that this place is dying, and so are you and me
Oct 22, 2017
Oct 22, 2017 at 10:37 PM UTC
The struggles I had to face is something she wont go through!
No! Never! Not while I live , and definitely not under my watch.
THE CRY OF AN AFRICAN MOTHER
My daughter is a lawyer in the making.
She's intelligent, a doctor figure.
THE HOPE OF AN AFRICAN FATHER
Study hard baby
You'll take care of your sibling someday
and build us a better home.
THE PRAYER OF AN AFRICAN PARENT
......................................................................................................................................................................
Your good intent overshadowed by your failures and inabilities.
Genuine goodwill expressed in a confusing web of past decisions
Your way out shackles me to a prison wall painted in your dreams and wishes
I open my eyes to two options,
the wall of desolation and
the gateway of disrespect and ungratefulness .
I'd love to stay in these chains
enjoy the discomfort of your comfort.
but i cant!
I have a life to live
a destiny to realize
I cant live your dream
all the night you had to cry at nature's unfair gift of failure
could have turned to smiles and pride.
With the weapon of childbirth
You were assured a sweet revenge on nature
but the truth is...
all you have is an opportunity to be you
I'd love to be the doctor you long for.
**** to be a lawyer just to satisfy your thirst
but....
What difference would it make
I get to be the doctor.... not you
I wear the wig ...... not you
You'd still be a slave to nature
and me, a prisoner to the horror of your past.
I cant live your dream
tho i dream of living the future you've planned for me,
all i wake up to is a pillow, a ***** sheet and REALITY!
I choose the gateway of disrespect
carrying along the tag of an ungrateful son
battling nature to the realization of my dreams
while staring at the Right to a wig and a stethoscope on the wall.
Hanging between those crafty wooden frame
is your key to vengeance
to me,
the crown of a wasted years chasing after your dream.
Sorry mom --- Sorry dad
I cant live your dream.
Jun 21, 2020
Jun 21, 2020 at 10:43 AM UTC
Happiness
I yearn for thee
Why do you always escape me?
The little things
I cannot see
Why can't I appreciate thee?
Ungratefulness
Is there with me
Why is there so much negativity?
This heart of mine
I hope won't be
Always too full of uncertainty.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
We sit side by side,
Mother, child and daughter
An unborn fetus, nurturing,
We had the same dreams,
The same feature and the same walk:
we had to take on bed rest for them to
Survives: we had to follow doctors orders
For them to be healthy and wise:
They didn’t ask of us to be here. We choose them
We lay with the wolves, and we
Got impregnated:
Nothing in those books had prepared us for
The their rude awakenings,
pages of good intentions,
Words from someone else’s experiences,
Not necessary our own stories,
Experiences of another….mortal man
I love quiet places, I love the silence of
My own heartbeat,
the crystals sound of the healing singing bowls
To stimulates ones/my brain cells:
the alien’s gifts for us humans beings:
One and one isn’t always meant to add to two
You see, one on top of one merges as a whole
Two on top of two piles up like a thick granite block
As parents we always wish the best for them
But it’s the ending we don’t know of : words
Of sadness, bitterness and loneliness
Came from places of ungratefulness
Not from the corner of one’s mind:
my mother is close to her ninety birthday
Through the years, those hands I once thought
to be so rough are still taking care of
Of her family, she prepares the family meal daily,
not neglecting the heavy house works
she still finds time to go the city and paid her utilities bills,
Her mind stays sharp to fight off the aches and pain
Of an aging body: I admired the woman for being so brave:
For managing joint pain
When the time comes for me to stay silence,
Is when I am dead: even then I shall appear as the
Ghost you were afraid of> Amen:
,
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 10:23 AM UTC