"unwaking" poems - Hello Poetry

I have a confession to make, I said. I drink to forget all That my failings and foibles beget. Sobriety Sends me to most fitful sleep. No rest for he who in his unwaking hours Mulls over the wine of his life, which he sours With his own cork of guilt and self-conscience. All mine self-confidence Derives from Contradictions repressing. Catatonic sleep of great notoriety Is my limbo, my heaven, perchance my sick death. The Removal of a blot on the face of this land should solicit, I fear, cornet Mouthed angels to sound clarion of victory. If I was religious I should become a flagellant invigilate most excellent Flayed as the poacher would the pheasant. And the landowner would the poacher. Silence from both. I take a drought from my drink, she a small sip. She looks at me and I look a way. Do you want me to pay for this? She asks. Just the tip Quoth I. Another drought and a sip. Another. I break down. I have nothing to believe in, To believe in foul dogma to wash my soul of sin I find repugnant. Belief in Progress and people and The wonder of Nature is akin to praying to the inconstant sand Castle made by the hand of a passing child. Belief in my girlfriend! More my love’s greatest failure To grant her the care and affection she deserves Due to my sand castle of pride in which I do serve. And thus do I say, to purge all my lust There’s only one way, in Self-disgust I trust.

0

Mar 24, 2014

Mar 24, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC

guy-braddock

XI. In Self-disgust I trust

I have a confession to make, I said. I drink to forget all That my failings and foibles beget. Sobriety Sends me to most fitful sleep. No rest for he who in his unwaking hours Mulls over the wine of his life, which he sours With his own cork of guilt and self-conscience. All mine self-confidence Derives from Contradictions repressing. Catatonic sleep of great notoriety Is my limbo, my heaven, perchance my sick death. The Removal of a blot on the face of this land should solicit, I fear, cornet Mouthed angels to sound clarion of victory. If I was religious I should become a flagellant invigilate most excellent Flayed as the poacher would the pheasant. And the landowner would the poacher. Silence from both. I take a drought from my drink, she a small sip. She looks at me and I look a way. Do you want me to pay for this? She asks. Just the tip Quoth I. Another drought and a sip. Another. I break down. I have nothing to believe in, To believe in foul dogma to wash my soul of sin I find repugnant. Belief in Progress and people and The wonder of Nature is akin to praying to the inconstant sand Castle made by the hand of a passing child. Belief in my girlfriend! More my love’s greatest failure To grant her the care and affection she deserves Due to my sand castle of pride in which I do serve. And thus do I say, to purge all my lust There’s only one way, in Self-disgust I trust.

27

This is the theatre of bubblegum dread A daily dose of drama for your head Mythic proportions, gloomy with steam It made the top ten in your dreams Avant-garde and ancient still Calm but violent is his will Here’s a dose for your blood and spine Subtract those who ain’t alive Apocalyptic, judging sneer Fields of green by yellow smeared Pure expressions of existence and joy But school is out, no more films or ploys Surrender to the unwaking moments Soul of a clown, basked in loneliness Psychological heart trip-up Be careful or you might get stuck Storms roll by when you’re with your cosmic mate A chess game for the ****** a wave to fate Drowned the lizard in a make-believe Rhine It only cost you about three dimes

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May 4, 2015

May 4, 2015 at 9:42 AM UTC

lucy-tonic

Bubblegum Dread

This is the theatre of bubblegum dread A daily dose of drama for your head Mythic proportions, gloomy with steam It made the top ten in your dreams Avant-garde and ancient still Calm but violent is his will Here’s a dose for your blood and spine Subtract those who ain’t alive Apocalyptic, judging sneer Fields of green by yellow smeared Pure expressions of existence and joy But school is out, no more films or ploys Surrender to the unwaking moments Soul of a clown, basked in loneliness Psychological heart trip-up Be careful or you might get stuck Storms roll by when you’re with your cosmic mate A chess game for the ****** a wave to fate Drowned the lizard in a make-believe Rhine It only cost you about three dimes

20

Wasting, staring at the ceiling Ever staring; never truly seeing. Time, ever sliding, escaping. Brain decaying, forever melting, Onto the pillow top draining, In hours spent unwaking. In a computer-world, living Never thriving, only existing.

0

Apr 20, 2012

Apr 20, 2012 at 11:50 AM UTC

becca-keith

Wasted Time

Wasting, staring at the ceiling Ever staring; never truly seeing. Time, ever sliding, escaping. Brain decaying, forever melting, Onto the pillow top draining, In hours spent unwaking. In a computer-world, living Never thriving, only existing.

8

worlds within and without are all waning insatiable chaos vacuum the void which sat between heavens heavens splitting the waters the waters, the weeds create living geometries etch-a-sketch drawings of silent mandalas now the dreamweaver lotus now the lucid unwaking ones who appear at your bedside disdaining your closet while you lie awake sleeping hypnogogically paralyzed their eyes burning green freeze your skies red as Christ comes you trapped in misogamy you flying through tattered air you ****** off this oxygen burned by the stare of a mirror

0

Jul 27, 2019

Jul 27, 2019 at 3:47 PM UTC

justin_aptaker

nameless

worlds within and without are all waning insatiable chaos vacuum the void which sat between heavens heavens splitting the waters the waters, the weeds create living geometries etch-a-sketch drawings of silent mandalas now the dreamweaver lotus now the lucid unwaking ones who appear at your bedside disdaining your closet while you lie awake sleeping hypnogogically paralyzed their eyes burning green freeze your skies red as Christ comes you trapped in misogamy you flying through tattered air you ****** off this oxygen burned by the stare of a mirror

35

Missed the clock by an hour late waking I woke drenched, needing quenched A wrench for my brain that's unsteady And in the undertaking. These ol' bag o bones are tired Need more sleep, Eyelids sagging I need restful peace. Hard flesh, Unwaking eyes No work today, I'll take advantage of living Ill catch northern California's High rise.

0

Dec 13, 2015

Dec 13, 2015 at 1:52 PM UTC

bill-murray

Catching the high rise california bred

Missed the clock by an hour late waking I woke drenched, needing quenched A wrench for my brain that's unsteady And in the undertaking. These ol' bag o bones are tired Need more sleep, Eyelids sagging I need restful peace. Hard flesh, Unwaking eyes No work today, I'll take advantage of living Ill catch northern California's High rise.

13

The seance, Between my heart and mind, Serves to intertwine, My thoughts I might find, Buried in my heart, The kinds that tear me from my feet, Up till the moments I've died. Every unwaking second, Is a moment I find, That my heart and mind, Can be... Alone. ~Robert van Lingen

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Aug 26, 2018

Aug 26, 2018 at 10:23 PM UTC

WordsDoMeanSomething

Two in the Same

The seance, Between my heart and mind, Serves to intertwine, My thoughts I might find, Buried in my heart, The kinds that tear me from my feet, Up till the moments I've died. Every unwaking second, Is a moment I find, That my heart and mind, Can be... Alone. ~Robert van Lingen

13

I have noticed before - How seconds slow into hours, hours into days And days into nights, but nothing more - They do not exist, as I miss Entirety Like trying to fall asleep within The cold embrace of a specter, Blistered fingers lay waste upon An unending dream where I'm with her - My mental state collapses, forlorn Are the words that had extracted Such breath from my lungs, gone Is my soul, once recollected. In volatility my emotions know not Where they lie, so instead they lie dormant, Unwaking, in hopes that they can be slaked, Unslaked, until I can be once more Awake.

0

Jun 28, 2017

Jun 28, 2017 at 2:01 AM UTC

themesmer

Divided

I have noticed before - How seconds slow into hours, hours into days And days into nights, but nothing more - They do not exist, as I miss Entirety Like trying to fall asleep within The cold embrace of a specter, Blistered fingers lay waste upon An unending dream where I'm with her - My mental state collapses, forlorn Are the words that had extracted Such breath from my lungs, gone Is my soul, once recollected. In volatility my emotions know not Where they lie, so instead they lie dormant, Unwaking, in hopes that they can be slaked, Unslaked, until I can be once more Awake.

17

Then the dream, if it was the dream stole me away from the waking, running through the shadow of eyes which shadowed the eyes and, nose candy, clear white, cut by the knife of the unwaking night, sped by the jet stream into one more run fast dream, if it was the dream. I climbed Everest then, in the dream if it was the dream, infinitely exciting, the backdrop lighting up the snow, but cold, so cold. I wear away, like the mountain I crumble more every day and one day when the dream, if it was the dream, comes, it will come to steal me and find the real me waiting.

0

Feb 11, 2015

Feb 11, 2015 at 3:06 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

The price.

Then the dream, if it was the dream stole me away from the waking, running through the shadow of eyes which shadowed the eyes and, nose candy, clear white, cut by the knife of the unwaking night, sped by the jet stream into one more run fast dream, if it was the dream. I climbed Everest then, in the dream if it was the dream, infinitely exciting, the backdrop lighting up the snow, but cold, so cold. I wear away, like the mountain I crumble more every day and one day when the dream, if it was the dream, comes, it will come to steal me and find the real me waiting.

19

When I listen to jazz Hot like seeping tea As it cools like coffee directly in front of me All I see is the ocean All I hear is the swishing sound of the sand being turned to glass Beneath the feet of an unwalking rhythm Unwaking and amiss Good jazz doesn’t walk a straight line as this It’s a drunken rhythm and a deep sip In love with the indescribable, naturural, eternal bliss

0

Jul 12, 2019

Jul 12, 2019 at 12:35 PM UTC

colmistoirm

Smooth Jazz

When I listen to jazz Hot like seeping tea As it cools like coffee directly in front of me All I see is the ocean All I hear is the swishing sound of the sand being turned to glass Beneath the feet of an unwalking rhythm Unwaking and amiss Good jazz doesn’t walk a straight line as this It’s a drunken rhythm and a deep sip In love with the indescribable, naturural, eternal bliss

10

midnight a blinking blue light in the dark unseen by the eyes closed to sleep one caught in dreams unwaking free in the world of the mind’s making two the room fills with slow breaths a clock ticks, the light blinks with unrest three outside the stars shine down the moon passes behind a cloud four everything is quiet, is peaceful lost in a night increasingly deceitful five the blinking light ceases, phone dead as dreams continue to flood the head six nothingness no witnesses seven the time to awaken passes sleep continues, late for classes eight panic ensues, phone lays forgotten rushing to school without cation Nine to Nine passing time, look around quick missing partner in crime, must be home sick how rude to leave me here, alone, a day feels like a year rushing home, so much to do, homework to go through dinner with the family, shove it in fast remember the dead phone at last the charge is climbing steadily but slowly, too gone to use readily finally charged, the blinking is back ten one missed call, one voicemail, one text explain it all eleven go to sleep, after letting many tears fall unable to do anything but withdraw midnight no light blinks, no message awaits no partner in crime, no god, no fate

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Jul 18, 2018

Jul 18, 2018 at 12:09 AM UTC

XHolden

a day

midnight a blinking blue light in the dark unseen by the eyes closed to sleep one caught in dreams unwaking free in the world of the mind’s making two the room fills with slow breaths a clock ticks, the light blinks with unrest three outside the stars shine down the moon passes behind a cloud four everything is quiet, is peaceful lost in a night increasingly deceitful five the blinking light ceases, phone dead as dreams continue to flood the head six nothingness no witnesses seven the time to awaken passes sleep continues, late for classes eight panic ensues, phone lays forgotten rushing to school without cation Nine to Nine passing time, look around quick missing partner in crime, must be home sick how rude to leave me here, alone, a day feels like a year rushing home, so much to do, homework to go through dinner with the family, shove it in fast remember the dead phone at last the charge is climbing steadily but slowly, too gone to use readily finally charged, the blinking is back ten one missed call, one voicemail, one text explain it all eleven go to sleep, after letting many tears fall unable to do anything but withdraw midnight no light blinks, no message awaits no partner in crime, no god, no fate

46

like a scratching record around I cannot break and in circles find nothing more than our something should this unwaking headache with its cold sweat and migraines is the only thing left the only path to take until we are left therein that parallel state of unbeingawake

0

Mar 26, 2021

Mar 26, 2021 at 3:29 PM UTC

colmistoirm

be tired with me?

like a scratching record around I cannot break and in circles find nothing more than our something should this unwaking headache with its cold sweat and migraines is the only thing left the only path to take until we are left therein that parallel state of unbeingawake

10