"unluckiest" poems
The jagged rocks flow through the air like daggers laced with the most toxic of poisons. Adverted eyes avoid the abyss of spewing lava for fear of being burned. Those in the path of destruction, they are the unluckiest of victims. Monosyllabic stones of hopelessness find their way to the scarred skin, bloodying the bloodied, breaking the broken. The volcanoes are worthy of repugnant titles, sharp like their tongues or decaying like their souls. The victims should run, should cry, should lash out against the lava, protect themselves. But everyone says that if you choose to live at the bottom of a volcanic body, you are already dead. The lava will only harden you, despite attempts to remain cool in your passivity. Lava burns, and no amount of composure or preparation can protect you from the overwhelming presence of hatred and intolerance; the hating fire fueled only by oxygen.
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 7:02 PM UTC
In God We Trust, For He Invented Reasonable Doubt
In Courtroom of the State of New York, Part 62,
where the only decoration extant,
in gold leaf letters,
a magnificent joke,
In God We Trust.
Words so incongruous
to the real time drama,
a poorly acted Law and Order episode
of which I partake,
(as Juror No. 1,
ergo you may address me as
Mr. Jury Foreman),
they stun me into stupefaction
every time we enter and the
Bailiff pronounces with much gravitas,
"Jury Entering"
A potpourri of a dozen Manhattanites,
with wisdom acquired
by the singular virtue of
having attained the robust age of 18,
noteworthy for being free of
criminal record,
having been nominated
to sit upon the jury that will decide
the fate of one Eric B.,
for what he may have done upon West 11th Street
one Summer night in
June Two Thousand and Eleven,
If adjudged guilty,
New York State can take,
incarcerate him for up to
15 years of his life
Predicate felon by the age of twenty seven,
Eric's resume consists of
four felonies,
two misdemeanors
a wife and two little children,
and a partridge in a pear tree.
Facts turgid and muddy,
Eric tells a story
one juror calls a confection of lies,
no one murmurs
much disagreement in the
tiny, overheated room
we have been sequestered to
replay
the 2012 version of
Twelve Angry Men.
But I am not his peer,
nor am I a seer,
common sense says
if appearances are what they seem to be,
he aided and abetted
in the forcible taking of
a nice Connecticut lady's cell phone
with his brother who just happened to be
released from prison earlier that day
A convoluted tale
ripe with inanities is told,
upshot is our defendant's tale,
his robust defense,
portrays him as the unluckiest man
in the whole world,
a good Samaritan,
*{chasing after the thief,
** ** his bro}*
against whom events have conspired
In Manhattan can be a harsh place,
where the natives
a tough lot,
tougher than the Indians from whom
they stole it all.
Our bridges we sell to out-of-towers,
all it takes is one to say,
what the heck,
reasonable doubt is
a ***** to overcome
so let him go
Jan, 2012
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 4:45 PM UTC
There are so many of us
And when I met the first of us before I knew I was one of us
I though
**** this person got the unluckiest thing ever"
And I though I would help her and that would be that
I was innocent and I thought this was an uncommon case
And as I grew up became smarter
I met more
And more of us
And we are not uncommon
But we are all ****** up
And I wish I could go back to being so innocent and ignorant
And noq I know we are real
And im one of us
And I struggle
As we all do
But now we have two options
We have jumped into a raging river
And we can choose to float and enjoy the ride until we drown
Enjoying sweet blissful pain
Or we can swim and fight against the current
Never give up and use everything we have to survive
And its not easy
If it were we wouldnt struggle
But know this that you might hate yourself but you love others who are swimming with you
And if they see you float they will be discouraged
And they will float
And sooner rather than later everyone will be floating
Dying a sweet death
But hating yourswlf even more because you let them float
You said its ok to float
So they listened and they died
So know this you can float or swim
I love the rest of us
So I will swim because I hate myself but will not let the others die
So float or swim
Which is it
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC
I'm shoveling raw fish down my throat
(Creamy and spicy Salty from soy sauce)
My phone in my lap
(For you are gone You boarded that plane You left me high and dry on my own thoughts)
My shorts are digging into my thighs
(Too fat Too white)
I'm popping fish roe between my teeth
(Each snap is a life that will never be Amniotic fluid runs down my incisors)
Eel is slipping through my chopsticks
(I struggle to get it down Barbeque sauce is all over my mouth)
There is a pit of snakes in my stomach
(I'm feeding them a one-hundred and sixty-six dollar meal I'm indulging them in my raw mind)
You're texting me still
(We're confused why my ******* feel like cobblestone We used protection)
We may be the unluckiest couple on Earth
**** me **** me **** me **** me **** me)
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 12:28 AM UTC
If meeting you was lucky,
I am the unluckiest person in the world.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 3:00 PM UTC
oxymoron overdose
deadbolt atriums
intersected playlists
the unluckiest clothespin
a mailbox full of compliments
wallowing asterisks
carpeted portraits and
unearthed apologies
it all stemmed from backseat rattling complexity
lighthouse morphine
seventeen somber ached explosions
sipping acrylic reveries
cleverly blossomed illusions
thigh stumbling permission
clumsy german metaphors
thirsty chapter jigsaw keys
worried cities newfound screams
vision confusion and pity bottles
poisoned school affection
oh christ, darling
a deaf chorus
thoughtless phantom
seed eyed stranger
road scarred sighs
***** locked moths
velvet butterflies
a sweeter sleeping spine
growing began expression
storms lack protection
yesterday placed comfort in salvation
the vast presence of a strong man's island mother
hazel vacations
a shattered soldier
trembling girls in sorry gardens, limbs in full bloom
naive humming mirrors
children having mistook living
trees half known
whispered smiles and mattress lullabies
cigarette stories firework insecurities
books begging
floor stopping feeling
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
fish... fish... fish
in the pond today
I'm in need of a wish
please get out my way
rain... rain... rain
from the sky today
please do explain
why treat me this way?
grass... grass... grass
yes I see the wet grass
I'll just tip-toe on pass
CRAP! I fall on my ***
do,,, do... do
what should I do?
YUCK! gooey gooey goo
sticky gum on my shoe
gee... gee... gee
no umbrella with me
its just not my day
CRAP! I for got my key
phone... phone... phone
my battery is low
please don't die
I need to call home
hair... hair... hair
get out my eye
its just not fair
I dont want to cry
wet... wet... wet
so freaking wet
this day is so my
unluckiest day yet
stuck... stuck... stuck
trapped under this
black cloudy sky
so much bad luck
today... today... today
I wish it would just
leave me alone
hurry up and go away
I wish... I wish... I wish...
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 12:50 AM UTC
"Hindsight,
is 20/20."
As the tag-a-longs
And dingbats like to recite.
Well that's dumb- 20/20 is average!!
This is outrageous -even our idioms our idiotic-
So I propose a new saying,
And yes, who is the 17 year old white boy
To say anything about anything.
But hear me out,
How about instead, we say,
"Hindsight, the unluckiest symptom of consciousness,
and a hell in its own right"
Okay yeah, well, maybe it IS a bit wordy,
And yeah, okay, maybe it IS a TAD too cynical.
But since when has a teenager been anything BUT
A self-proclaimed cynic.
With stars too far to telephone,
And when telegraphs aren't a thing anymore.
We gotta make our own futures,
But when we're riding along through our
Generation of hate,
Or lovely liberalism.
Try not to check the rearview mirror
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 4:18 AM UTC
i used to think that you were a gift from God.
after all, you came around after i was saved.
i used to use you in my testimony, too.
i never believed them when they said the Devil was testing me.
i had given in quite a few times to him.
but i never, not even for a second, believed that you were
anything but God-given.
what are you now?
a story i'll tell my children when they ask about
the many photos i have of us?
a tall-tale about love that i ruined with my
blackened heart and tarnished promises?
a lost girl with eyes of gold?
advice i'll give to those whom ask about our time together in relation
to their own problems?
my promise still stands.
i won't **** myself.
i have tried enough times to now that
i can't even do that much right.
but i was never going to **** myself over your words
or your actions.
i wanted to die because of myself
and the choices I've made in my own life that
have nothing to do with you.
I've made more mistakes than you could ever know,
leigh.
ones that nobody know about.
i think what is important is the betterment of myself
and of all.
and i don't believe that my death with help.
maybe you do,
but i do not.
i believe my life is worth a lot more than that,
for my God tells me so.
you can try to choke me with your words
and you can wish death upon me
and even declare that meeting me was the
most unluckiest thing that has ever happened in your life.
but just know that all I've ever wanted for you was the best.
and that means that the chapter of you in my life is now over,
because what is best for you is not me.
we should've known that a long time ago.
maybe we did,
but we just didn't want to say it out loud.
so have the best.
live a happy life.
be the best you can be.
smile, laugh, and learn from the unlucky chapter in your life that was
me.
that's all i can say.
i still believe that you were God-given,
you know.
like i said, i never once believed that you weren't.
so take your God-given gifts and love with all of your might.
you've taught me so much,
and i'll forever be grateful for the time you were in my life.
even though you don't feel the same about me.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
Never expected
That life will become this must worst
only on these days I thought everything goes correct
But My fate shows me that I'm the unluckiest in the whole universe.
Still had hope
Not on me or on my fate
But on MY God rate
My papa has a pure heart
How the poisonous snake could inject purity
Purity has its own strength..
Only on that day, Papa, you felt great for me
It is not that I Can shine in your absence
From my childhood days I thought of shining
only for You and for ama(mother)
Now it is the time for reaping
So you should come back soon.
Hope you will com soon..
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC
If there is something like a perfect piece of art.
It is hidden in the most untouchable of the places.
A place so unreachable that only the unluckiest and the saddest of the humans can go.
A place that connects heaven, hell and earth.
The only place that connects God, the devil and us.
Death.
Death keep the most amazing and beautiful piece of heaven that exists.
Because if that wasn't so, God wouldn't create an angel just to keep it safe.
And even if there is no God above the clouds or devil under the earth.
We still are walking the unstoppable crusade to the end.
So enjoy the last seconds of your brief infinite called life.
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 4:14 AM UTC
His will, with all obedient mansions, unluckiest delights,
And heaven-illumined cares, its trembling woodbine-wreaths,
A concourse gloriously to swan, but knowingly to obey,
Is as a mused pasture, whose forbid
Brimstone dormitories, through clarions that dare awfully overwhelm,
Forcing victory! The's saddest distinctions
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 7:36 AM UTC
Why do I do this?
These thoughts,
In my head,
Scream cursed words of
Disappointment,
Unfulfillment,
Sorrow,
Hope.
How am I to ignore
The words that
These thoughts are telling me?
You can't make someone happy...
No one can fall for you...
You're just a middle man...
Easily forgettable...
A placeholder...
Uninteresting,
Little to no importance,
With no room to grow...
They're better off without you...
Be honest, who would?
All the smiles I wish to have,
Feels like it's unattainable,
Something only for a wish,
The luckiest thing for,
The unluckiest person.
Who am I kidding?
I already know,
These thoughts are louder.
Drowning out my thoughts of
Sanity,
Happiness,
Love.
Sep 17, 2024
Sep 17, 2024 at 5:53 AM UTC
There was a boy who hated cops,
Cow-faced, pig-bullies, power-drunk hacks.
Racism, raids, and traffic stops.
And maybe, like the boy, if they weren’t attacked,
Hadn’t gone to work expecting the worst,
Maybe they'd have had their community’s back.
But life’s not that simple; some wounds are cursed.
They made him mean, like a shelter cat,
Born into pain, already immersed.
He was a boy who never fought back,
But luck still left him, too early, too soon,
Born in the stick season, raised in the black.
How could he know that all fields bloom?
When shown only malice, one cant help but stare
Facing down evil, missing the good in the room.
Lucks for the lucky and life isn't fair
But no orchid's less beautiful than weeds just
Because orchids need more love and more care.
May 13, 2025
May 13, 2025 at 5:44 PM UTC