"unregarded" poems
I dwelt alone
In a world of moan,
And my soul was a stagnant tide,
Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride—
Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride.
Ah, less—less bright
The stars of the night
Than the eyes of the radiant girl!
And never a flake
That the vapor can make
With the moon-tints of purple and pearl,
Can vie with the modest Eulalie’s most unregarded curl—
Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie’s most humble and careless
curl.
Now Doubt—now Pain
Come never again,
For her soul gives me sigh for sigh,
And all day long
Shines, bright and strong,
Astarte within the sky,
While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye—
While ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.
2.9k
It came upon a Christmas eve not so long ago
A beast deformed in stature, walked out from the snow
It’s eyes were sharp and wild, jagged teeth like shards
It went from house to house leaving hoof prints in the yards.
Glancing into windows warm with light and life
It was here to reconcile an old and bitter strife
It had a bag that screamed and cried as it dragged it on the ground
An awful thing just an awful thing, to have to hear that sound
It threw its nose into the air and began to sniff and snort
This demon was on to something but what I can’t report
In the bitter cold, you could smell it’s breath of rot and discontent
The chains that draped its frame, made its spine look broke and bent
The wind it howled in vain to warn the people of this beast
It’s cries went unregarded as people sat before their feast
The demon ceased its searching when it came upon my house
I did my best to hide and stay as quiet as a mouse
I walked back into the shadows in the corner of my room
Voiceless, breathless, terrified what was this thing of gloom
I heard it leap onto the deck and drop its sack upon the floor
A resounding thud caked in mud, it wasn’t crying anymore
I left my room and crept down the stairs to see if it got in
Hoping it wasn’t that demon who they said would eat my skin
It stood before the fireplace, the front door was opened wide
I don’t know how this thing got in but I had nowhere left to hide
It turned its face from the fire with a scowl you’d have to see
The demon had a quarrel alright and the quarrel was with me
It pulled out from the pocket of its robe all blacked and charred
A burning piece of paper then it handed me its card
The card read only “Krampus” before I felt it’s claws upon my throat
Now I’m in a bag with other kids set for some other place remote
We were bad and didn’t listen to our parents and their orders
We broke a lot of rules and disrespected borders
Now ole Krampus has us and he’ll probably sell us off as food
This is what you get if you’re whiny, mean, or rude
Now have a merry Christmas and do as you’ve been told
Lest you wind up in a demons bag being dragged upon the road
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 10:57 AM UTC
No one cares enough
to even glance at the way
she stands slumped,
incommodious. Wise,
little girl, that you show
no fear of those who try
to quibble you. They will try to be
however demanding they can.
They must be able to see
the cicatrix of distress they cause.
The withdraw of people eliminates
the blissful, mirthful way of life.
Do not bother to notice the
sorrow she carries from the lack
of shoulders to cry on.
The tear soaked pillows of late night
cry's so deep within the soul;
the muffled sobs of desperation from
the absence of an individual.
Life-long abstraction.
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 6:34 PM UTC
Here we go,
take your pick:
which is worse?
to cry and not feel
or to hold back the tears?
in public?...
which is worse?
living in a house made of glass brick?
or a house armored thick?
so no one can ever see you...
or harm you
or your house...
which is worse?
being in a body you cannot stand?
or being the person you said you can't
are you your own?
or are you being held captive
perhaps by a former you
are you your own?
or have you turned on yourself
lied and said that it was to protect the rest of the world
rationalized
you are too clever
you are too violent
you are too... much,
or so they say.
yet its all on credit, an unregarded tab
and someone somewhere is keeping track
your words they twist and turn
they are vines and veins
whose blood they burn
you deconstruct meaning
transcending with every verse
it is a blessing, it is a blessing
it is a curse, it is a curse
oh but which is worse?
immediate classification no, judgmental interpretations?
descriptive deliberation of informative investigations
soon as the information is deliberately delivered
to the perception of my appreciation
artistic systemization
or
casting all this self manipulation aside in finalization
and choosing self mutilation
for the preservation of the rest of the nation
all the while, pleading through consideration
which is worse?
which is better?
to be everything is to be nothing
lack of identification.
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 4:03 PM UTC
I haven't really eaten in days,
but I've tasted manna from heaven.
Dancing under overcast stars,
drinking the essence of oblivion.
I haven't really tried to be sensible,
or act the reasonable way of society.
But people don't seem to care anyway.
They hunger for a smile, a touch that transfer only...
Simplicity
Unregarded affection
Payless affinity.
And so,
I live
Still roaming the treasures of life,
spending the few grains of hope
left inside me.
To find residues of love
that I might steal
From you
and you...
Hapless people
you are but one brief moment away
from swallowing the answer
of love.
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 2:12 PM UTC
Do you love me?
Do I care?
I reach out to you
no one is there.
You tell me you love me
I tell you the same
but all that I'm doing
is hiding my pain.
Life in the fast lane
it ain't all that great
in my world that only
revolves around hate.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 5:38 PM UTC
a calcium carapace,
sits upon the mantle's shelf. dreaming of the sea,
craving water and salinity.
pretty trinket ivory white,
a plump smooth bubble with cafe au lait dotted curve, leading to,
sensuous convex lip,
scintillating burnt caramel
hue.
what lived in such a
palace of the sea.
what graced the interior hall.
did it wonder,
at the beauty of it's home,
or did it only see,
the weight of the walls, pressing in.
does the palace discarded
on the shelf dream,
of saltwater
and former self.
or is it an inamate relic,
of an unregarded time,
with out measured reason, unresonating thought, unrimed.
does it know
it is
beauty sublime.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 5:27 AM UTC
It was me.
Real not surrogate,
behind the words.
A way of lips, without
you, with few things to disengage
upon, what the agony demands.
On skin, a lump
was rising― straight
from the animal instinct,
discussing the religion of predators.
A manhood was
in peril, unregarded by
otherness. You want to collect the scars now.
Because you belong to me
like a moon to earth.
We both were moving in different
orbits, trying to touch each
other, undying, for sun.
It breaks the heart, when
it is moonless night.
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 7:39 PM UTC