"unpardoned" poems
For the first time ever; I truly do not care
if you, him, or her wished me a happy birthday;
But, I wouldn’t mind if you did. Though it is fair;
I am one of the lesser friends; I am a boring play;
A play so fake; I am of made up characters,
Sometimes I am the flattering villain in smiles,
And at times I am a copy of the Westerners,
At others, I am gullible, yet I never am;
I pretend to be; but I am miles away,
For interesting I am not; so funny at least be,
Says my brain; for maybe they will remember,
That my birthday was today; It is an endless plea:
I always remember and prepare pages of wishes,
For almost everyone, but all I get is 4 days late
One liners sent out of guilt; to stop the guilty itches,
Not out of care, love, or from genuine friendly state;
I deserve it; for again; I am merely a boring play;
A paradoxical headache of weird introverts,
And annoying extroverts; I barely even weigh,
To a normal person; I am made of endless alerts;
Alerted, focused, attentive; all on your acceptance;
I am what I feel you want me to be; a nice man,
A racist gangster, a diplomatic figure; I am resemblance,
I resemble everything I see in you and scan;
I am stardust that was never meant to shine,
I am a thread; intertwined as I feel pleases,
I am a road with temporary signs; I am grapes;
For you I squeeze myself into juice; or ferment
Into wine; I am a fake play where you write scripts,
I submit, because all I cared about is receiving,
A birthday wish. On that one day in the entire year;
I do not want even want gifts; because when you don't,
I feel like I am ceasing to exist; slowly deceasing
from everything that we were: teenagers ambitious,
WhatsApp stickers collectors, School runaways,
Kids deceiving; it feels like I am dead; for the dead
Do not receive birthday wishes; I feel peerless;
A white beans *** lidless, a body complete limbless,
A walking sickness, a moving flesh in stillness,
unpardoned by my faux and obvious silliness.
I do not care about not getting birthday wishes;
But I cannot not overthink what it means.
Nov 22, 2023
Nov 22, 2023 at 4:25 PM UTC
Career politicians, who cluck
as they strut with an impotent pluck
make me sick with the season
befouling all reason:
they're less of a **** than a cuck.
That gobbler and turkey-neck Mitch
makes me furious—so mad that I twitch.
He obstructs every battle
while jiggling his wattle;
unpardoned, unworthy (but rich).
The patrician political class
is a party that speaks through its ***
They are lacking in guts
with no ifs, ands, or buts
but I swear: they produce enough gas.
HAPPY THANXGIVING, Fellow Poets☺
Nov 23, 2017
Nov 23, 2017 at 9:48 AM UTC
Memories
How you linger
Stinging and staining
Remaining and reminding
Of the binding ties
The blinding highs
And lows so steep
Blows so deep
Reaping, creeping
Leaping from tower tops
Falling, flailing to the crops below
Knot on the head
Ears pick up knocking
Arms blocking
Stocking on locks
Rocking on the floor
Poor boy
Never had a dream
Bereave him and leave him the keys
Heaves up blood
Studded in his cellar
Paler than snow
No glow, so low
Woe
Lament for him
Repent for him
Resentment was not meant for him
Sent to the wrong address
Tested and regressed
Restless and directionless
Ingestion of confession became
Nestled, cottled
Modeled and bottled
Startled and shocked
Hardened, unpardoned
Parted like the Red Sea
Like the Red blood
Running down like tears in those
Red eyes
Ready to cry like those
Fed eyes
Ready for demise like those
Dead eyes
Don't be surprised
And what a soul could know
How the memories linger
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 1:29 AM UTC
Stick to whatever,
She told me.
Get it wrong, right
Or do not.
Flee to your scarier
Shelter,
One that is easy
To spot.
Drink wines
From glasses
Of doubt,
Worship your
Local canons.
Stretch them
Within and without,
Stan the unpardoned
Of lords.
Having it all
Given to you,
Acting completely
Exposed,
Trophies in pain
Excruciate you:
None of them **** you,
Suppose.
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 4:03 AM UTC