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MeanAileen Jan 2018
Wasted all
of my precious time...
wasted on someone
who will never be mine.
Wasted my hours
and days and years...
wasted emotions,
worthless tears.
Wasted laughter
and falsely felt joy...
wasted on a cold
and careless boy.
Wasted efforts
tried so hard in vane...
wasted thoughts,
get out of my brain!
Wasted dreams
and wasted desire...
wasted devotion
sworn to a liar.
Wasted my love
a love unrequited...
wasted inside,
broken and blighted.
Wasted my heart
was wasted on you...
wasted and beaten
and black and blue.
Justa dumb poem about a dumb person...
Danielle Suzanne Mar 2017
When I'd wake alone in bed at 4am
Again
To find you passed out
on the couch
Too wasted to notice
the heart breaking in front of you
I tried every day
But you preferred synthetic hugs
and to hide in a place
where the expectations were low  
Escapes and excuses
more alluring than I could ever be
Through tears I would plead
'Why don't you want to sleep with me!?'
I shouldn't have taken it so personally

But nobody saw me cry
Especially not you
Blind to my tears
Large doses of denial dished out
Perhaps the most powerful drug of them all
My soul mate disappeared
each day
a little more

Maybe today will be different
Hope
The beautiful motivator
Maybe today
It will be me that you choose
Naively believing
that you had control
But then I woke
alone in bed at 4am
Again
Manipulated and used
March 26th 2017
Bison Mar 2016
Is it poetry if I just let it go free?
Is it poetry if this is the truth to me?
Have I ever been in love or was it all a hoax?
Yeesh.
If heaven sits above then was our time all wasted grief?
Bea Aguilar May 2016
Wasted words
Wasted time
Wasted tears
Wasted feelings

I know that you don't give a single **** about me anymore
About the things you said to me
About the fights we had
About what I feel for you

I want to cry
I want to shout
But you left
And I feel so empty
Bardo Mar 2018
O! the lives I've wasted
The lives I could have led
If different paths I'd taken
And different people I'd met.

O! what friends were lost
When just around the corner they lay
Their voices heard but their faces
   hidden
O! why had Destiny to steer me this
   way.

                              II

With my life here in my hands
My impulsive moves and slow
   meanderings
My efforts regulated by my will to
   abstain
In gaining my present position
What have I lost elsewhere
And what have others lost
Because of my absence there.
No, I haven't killed anyone, this is about regrets and what ifs, a bit of existential angst
Amanda Jan 25
Today my heart beats sick with shame
A million pieces I am reluctant to claim
I am losing touch with the person I am
Losing you and my life is a sham
Please crave me more than drugs
Craving you and your comforting hugs
Your heartbeat sounds slow, far away and low
I'm not ready for my crutch to go
You have ways of drawing me in
Witness devotion carved into my skin
I bleed out lost time I wasted on you
Love me how I always wanted, like I loved you
People have different ways of showing their affection
Akira Chinen May 2018
We might all be made of stardust
but no one shines like you
and the only time I hear
the angels sing
is whenever I hear your name
and when those same syllables
fall from my mouth
it feels like the slow pour of molasses
and it reminds me of when
the gods first created love
and love created life
and then life
made sweet sweet love
on beds made out of sin and poetry
and if you are not
the definition of beauty
then beauty has no definition
and all this stardust
is being wasted
when none of us
can shine
quite the same way
as you
Leo Dec 2018
No more screaming, no more voices
In the empty land of wasted stories.
A place of madness and lost faith
But look at it the right way
And it’s astonishingly great.

A null tricky game, planned, well played,
You’d better keep watching before it vanishes anyway.
But perhaps it’s too late, in this blurry night
Maybe too early to see the bright light.

Just a second of hope, a last broken prayer
To remind you in this game, you were a good player.
Cause there are no winners
No losers, no glory
In the not too far land of wasted stories.
n Jan 8
Stinging morning coffee bliss acompanies the first cig of the day,
It’s all downhill from here.
Does normal things Goes to lecture
Lunchtime sugar low.
Self-destructive tendencies itching,
Beer kick - gets drunk.
Being constructive is crushing.
Goes to lecure
Mind numbing normality
Home.
Fearful of loneliness and needy, go waste some hours.
Its late. Restless.
Stoop on the street,
with friends. Anxious, ill.
Wasted night.
Collapse into a shallow sleep of self-loathing.
Zombied.
Repeated offence.
An acurate describition of my daily university life. Evident is my dependency on drugs and my fear of being alone. Both loneliness and 'mind-numbing normality' are perceived as a threat. The title comes from the french word for daily life to accentuate the repetition and spiraling.
Alyssa Underwood Aug 2017
Jesus, please set my bound heart free
Let not this world my prison be
Where fear and shame would pull me down
To suffocate and cause me to drown

'Stead loose my soul that it may soar
Heavy, fettered, chained no more
So You can lead me to the hills
Away from where 'perfection' kills

In You alone my worth is found
What joy immense, this truth profound
To know I'm precious in Your sight
My strength, my hope, my life's delight

Surrendered now to Your control
'Tis love which heals my wounded soul
Convinced that I can trust Your heart
Toward me, to You my cares I impart

And selfish may I no more be
But lend me eyes that I might see
The wounds which other souls still have
To give to them Your healing salve

That You might take their tender pain
And turn it to eternal gain
So suffering may not wasted be
But used to set our cold hearts free

Then we who in triumphant praise
More closely on Your face may gaze
Beholding all Your beauty vast
Held tight to You, content at last!
~~~

"So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed."
~ John 8:36

"But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into His image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit."
~ 2 Corinthians 3:16-18

"I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing
with the glory that will be revealed in us."
~ Romans 8:18


~~~

Sung to the tune of
'Jesus, Thy Blood and Righteousness'
(music by William Gardiner)
madison Jan 9
i feel weak
everyday another piece of me folds in
slowly
im becoming the thing you never wanted to see
im becoming to reach the point you hoped i would never

im the piece of paper in the bottom of your bag
the one you needed
you lost it and spent ages looking for it
but by the time you found it
it was torn to shreds
it was no longer useful
and you groaned and complained
but then you got another
and you were thankful that there were others
to replace the one you forgot about
until it was too late

but i couldn't forget
i laid there in pieces wondering what happened
you cared
but you realized it got bad
and then you realized it was too late
and you moved onto the next person to care about
until it was too late for them too.
empty seas Dec 2018
i’ve spent
years
of my life
convincing
myself
i’m not
a monster

this
will
not
stop.

i deserve
to be happy

words hurt me
they will not change me
i grow stronger
lies do not cut
as much as they used to
September Rose May 2018
We are tied together by our stories, our history
Tales woven through our ancestry, when our parents talk of their younger days
When their life was ahead of them, the future was anything and everything, they speak of their old friends with ache in their soul
Of times when their hearts were filled with fire and passion, running through fields growing memories  planted by the world around them
When they could sprint the wind in their hair, adventure ahead, hope in their heart.
They speak of the days behind with woe
Because essentially just their ideas of the future as a young mind, was more exciting than reality.
As dreams failed and hope faded
As their minds wear and their treasured stories that made them who they are fog over
As threads begin to wear
As tales they once yelled to the world with pride frays at the details
Your whole world slipping away as the thread unwinds
But they get the joy of passing down the tapestry to their pride and joy, to the life they made, every one of us
Every moment we live with ease of no appreciation for every experience every laugh
Moments we take for granted
Moments we will pine for when they run out
Moments the elderly urge us with fire to be aware of the importance of
Moments we'll wish we listened to them about
There is a vast tapestry of memories behind you and infinite thread panning out in front of you, connecting to other tapestries, visiting at friends, at enemies, joining with soul-mates future, some cut away, some ripped from the tapestries to soon before they could weave their own
A loose thread cannot be fixed once more are made, and the patterns will never be what you want them to be, savour each stitch
Take time on every thread
You don't want to be sitting there 50 years old thinking about the life you wasted
About the memories faded
About how every slipping memories never like the moment you made it
Don't be sitting 90 filled with regret
Filled with hatred for every opportunity you left
Screaming into the voice about how much you hate what your life become.

because they say time flys when your having fun truth is time only flies when you're young.
Jesse stillwater Jul 2018
I’ve finally stopped
writing
unrequited letters;
there were too many
wasted breaths
left unsent

Lapsing intentions
befallen on timeworn
tawny crumpled  pages;
aging like spent flowers
in fading earth tones
and rumpled paper regrets

Multi-hued words uttered—
mummers of voiceless exhalations
spoken without a sound;
indelible spilled ink
left behind,
lays fallow for so long

A love once new,  and
a growing silent ache—
a hungry heart
left for dead—Déjà vu

We leave a lot behind,
fallen leaves in unspoken ink
a restless soul laid bare
by a passing moment's
random gust;

atrophied
like unwritten poetry
stifled stillborn
in a wadded up paper lament


jesse stillwater ... July 2018
feelings aren't right or wrong, they're just feelings ...

Thanks for stopping here
Dark n Beautiful Sep 2018
The past is never too far behind:
We can never live it down
According to Doctor B . Ford
It’s unbearable:
It’s haunting, it’s inerasable:
For the victims to relived
those terrible nightmare:
in hopes that it they will go away

Somehow it never does
The worst is to see your attackers
Smiling, and moving on to higher ranks

Youth was wasted on the young,
Privilege children: overindulgence few
Not so wealth, not so wise
Today their party until dawn
In the future they wouldn’t remember
An old folks saying
What sweeten the goat mouth?
Would burn its tail end
The higher the monkey climbs
His tail becomes visible:
As you move up the ladder,
Your party buddies will grudge you
Your past will haunts you
Your hidden secret will be found:
Youth is wasted on the young,
Arke Sep 2018
I think about time I've spent
moments in my life
watching ****** movies
eating bad food
working dead end job
after dead end job
staring at the blank wall
listening to ticking clocks
cheerfully counting down my demise
long walks I'd take at dusk
down the trails by the river
pretending I enjoy running
because the pounding of my heart
in my head made me feel alive
I'd think about life and death
and whether god exists
and whether love exists
about ***, philosophy, infinities
the hours I have spent writing
poetry and nonfiction
displaying myself for scrutiny
painting canvas that I hate
to make myself feel something
to hope it reaches someone
reading Nietzche and Foucault
as if my existence could matter
but along the way I found myself
and maybe all of these moments
have led up to something
consequential and meaningful
every moment is part of my journey
every experience is part of becoming
every hour has lead me to you
so not a single second
of my life has ever been wasted
Daisy Marrow Jun 2014
You lay in a field of flowers counting each bird that passes overhead.
You've erased concern and decided to live for the moment because you always would say, "we might be dead by tomorrow."
Flowers grew from your heart and bloomed across your lungs,
creating a garden that sang the most beautiful hymns,
while my garden was withering.
Each breath you took was never wasted,
but I couldn't help but count mine like they were birds passing overhead.
Every night you would view the stars and moon with pure amazement as if it was your first time seeing them.
You gave all your love to me and each kiss was coined in my pocket.
You fell in love with me every night and I fell for all your hymns.
Soon enough the world would pass us by but I wouldn't blink because I could live off your touch for the rest of my time.
You showed me there is more in life than just one color,
but instead, the world is a whole painting with colors that can't be described.
You showed me just how beautiful the world was.
You taught me how to grow beauty from my eyes but lately, I've been dreaming and falling for stars.
Imagining what it'd be like slow dancing with the planets, getting lost in constellations.
But I'm just not ready to go yet however I do not control time.
You showed me that dying can be beautiful.
That we'll be okay because when we leave we all become one with the earth and one with nature.
So love, love me until time runs out,
until I become one with nature.

And many years later as time starts to fly by and you slowly start to watch your clock tick down, you'll know where to find me, my love.
I'll be up with stars.
Somewhere lost in the cosmos.
I'll be spinning with the planets dreaming about what it would feel like to be able to walk on flowers again.
2014
Mercedes Sep 2018
it wasn’t until the sun had set,
and the moon took over its shift,
and the morning came
that i remembered that:

yesterday kept many secrets
from me,
tomorrow makes promises
it can’t keep,
(yet still, i always find myself
giving it chances),
and today probably won’t
be any more trustworthy.
Dusting off the rabbity
that squirrely tempo anxiety,
closing in with night.

The irresistible pattern
the irrational illogical fight
a battle with one’s discipline,
mirroring our might.

I make it home a fluttering
belly twirled and muttering,
I tell myself tis alright!

The damage done, and everyone,
I’m just like them and millions more
succumbing at the Devil’s door.

And the taste, the burn,
the healing calm,
the shaking and the thinking gone.

Knock one back, slam out another
night is early, rock it brother,
Tying on a swilly swirling
buzzed-out brain and mind a twirling. . .

“Ahhhh…”

I feel better now, exhilarated,
exasperation falls to stout resound;
I pour again and knock it down!

“Ahhhh…”

Spinning now, not to say I’m spun
but choosey choosing several a pun
I see myself an accomplished one!
Yes, that’s it, that is me,
look upon with thoughts of glory
yank open the freezer for glass that’s hoary. . .

How cool am I? certainly not boring
all night I’m here, pouring, pouring. . .

Buzz subsides, thoughts slow too,
lurid leering, slobbering swearing,
****** actions and nothing new?

I lose the bottle,
I lose my shirt,
***** on myself,
pass out in dirt.

Another night of drunken hero,
time that’s wasted for kingly Nero.
But who am I to judge myself?

I’m hardly worse than anyone else?
onlylovepoetry Mar 2018
Friday night immodesty

theater on East 4th street @ 8:00pm,
so the girlie stuff commences on schedule
90 minuets a-priori and the medley music
(adele+amy+alicia+ pink bach for some zing)
a harbinger, a pioneer Greek heralding of
Friday night immodesty

the clothes laid out upon the bed, the shoes,
pumps selected and already on,
(always a puzzler to me,)
the subdued lower east side jewelry possibilities,
on the dresser drawer,
indifferently hoping for selection, but
casually beaming quietly,
like those kids waiting for interviews in the waiting room
of the college Admissions Dean’s office,
all with serious smiles
and tiny tearing eyes

aside:
helloooooo, I am in a poetry polo with my best jeans ready to go
2 hours before the curtain calls out,
hellooooooo

she sits at the makeup mirrored desk,
clad in only her underneath garments of varying utility,
when I sweep in imperially
and with one hand twist gentle her hair upwards,
betraying
her neck nape which is again
the sujet of a poem aborning

lips,
like a Greek lyre strings, pluck, the tiny hid hairs never seen,
her instant moans at the never fully expected motion poem,
beg more mercy but no quarter given despite repeated cries
of you’ll mess my makeup,
the best defense known to a lady!

god gave men two thumbs to lift up,
simultaneously stimulating,
slide down each of the thin black brasserie strap invitations,
upon each, a writ,
upon her flesh colored shoulders,
stating
“what was she thinking!”

my lips,
now polar explorers, those power (filled) poles side by side,
(east/west for the designer was a smart
bipolar guy-person);
the lips play silent night progressive jazz,
tinkling with higher noted keys,
nape to shoulders moving down to the back’s prefrontal lobe,
the small of her back, the body’s quivering,
a con-federate flag of surrender

her last defense swept aside, we drink honey and milk,
celebrate the week’s mellifluous finish with immodest touching,
the lower east side will belong tonite
to only the hipsters, the millennials,
as our hips are milling and  otherwise
pre-theater and post, occupado

some hours later, watching TV and eating delivered Chinese,
she laterally and literally arm punches my arm
intensely to mark her discontent,
still annoyed,
for I

1) messed up her makeup,
2) best blouse to the dry cleaner and
3) the tickets wasted, and worse,
hits me again!

after I laugh and giggle upon proffering
most modestly, most assuredly,
seconds of
onlylovepoetry

9.21am Saturday
thank you all who liked this tale of
the poetry in the details
of our lives.
olp
Carolina Jan 9
And one day
someone came
knocking at your door
with flowers and a bottle of wine.
You looked through the window
and waved hi.
But it wasn't a hello,
it was a goodbye.
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
O Lord, please set my bound heart free
Let not this world my prison be
Where fear and shame would pull me down
To suffocate and cause me to drown

'Stead loose my soul that it may soar
Heavy, fettered, chained no more
So You can lead me to the hills
Away from where "perfection" kills

In You alone my worth is found
What joy immense, this truth profound
To know I'm precious in Your sight
My strength, my hope, my life's delight

Surrendered now to Your control
'Tis love which heals my wounded soul
Convinced that I can trust Your heart
Toward me, to You my cares I impart

And selfish may I no more be
But lend me eyes that I might see
The wounds which other souls still have
To give to them Your healing salve

That You might take their tender pain
And turn it to eternal gain
So suffering may not wasted be
But used to set our cold hearts free

Then we who in triumphant praise
More closely on Your face may gaze
Beholding all Your beauty vast
Held tight to You, content at last!
**sung to the tune of 'Jesus, Thy Blood and Righteousness'
(music by William Gardiner)

~~~
kevin hamilton Aug 2018
heard a voice as i died
in the cold moonlight
forty phantoms
breathing through me
and this wasted life
goes on too long

these willow trees
court lesser demons
and condemn the rest
these weeping hosts
hold the shape of dusk
beneath the ground

piano from the dark
of a mystic chord
i froze and woke in tandem
with the underscore

Must have a goal
Go get that thing
What if I want
To stop and sing

Retreat inside
Wait out the storm

Else feel the wrath
Of nature scorned

Instead a kid
I wish to be
To feel alive
And so carefree


Each drip, each drop
Upon my head
Wish I could splash
In rain instead


I'd watch the sky
Explode with light
A warming joy
Not filled with fright

When did I lose
Sight of it all
Predictable
Pattern I fall


Start living in
Every moment
Past and future
Wasted and spent

Granted a new
Chance I'm given
Can not redo
But start living

Each day awake
Fresh start; Can be

World's my oyster
Alive and free
Written: July 14, 2018

All rights reserved.
I’m a soldier
in a war
sold to the highest bidder
Biding my time
getting high
but not getting
anything out of
life

A lifer
a loser
lost his way
was on his way
on a journey
was earning
a living
was living
a life
in spite of
spitting in the face
of all I was faced with
Couldn’t face up
to the need
I was feeding
A hole
from which
my soul
was bleeding
Unknown reason
harboring this treason
give it time
it will season
Belief system
the Devil
finds pleasing

No matter
how much I tried
and from everyone hide,
including myself,
what was
deep inside
If I went
and made
an attempt
a fool I'd be,
wasted time spent
A lament
at controlling
the tide
And each day
from the next
more and more
of me died

There was a time
when all my efforts
went unheeded
and instead
succeeded
But these courtships
did not breed
or plant the seed
Instead was seething
to be
leaving
Escaping from me
with each breath
I’m breathing

A horrible time
indeed
Unfamiliar,
making me ill
Not having free will
Undeserving
and not for me
to get
Must get angry
and upset
Breaking steps
So many
missteps
I’m falling
more than I’m standing

Steps I’ve climbed
mostly blind
by my blindfold
Its knots
I bind
the moment
I ‘rise-and-shine’
so that
in time
when rising
like yeast,
the hiding
inner self
self-defeats

Every hand folding
as I’m
raising the bets,
doesn't make sense
From where
did I get
this invisible pet
Originally set
and previously molded
in the early stages
of the morning
in a story
that’s boring
and been told
time and time again
with
lost love ones
and friends

A friendly reminder
that a
“stitch-in-time”
is not
a time saver
if the referenced ‘stitch’
relied upon
was built upon
lies
Consumed
from others
that we
self tie
but mostly
force fed
by the very hand
controlled
by my head

It’s a numbing thought;
reasons sought
Elusive?
‘yes’
but pieces
caught
My peace disturbed
by actions
brought
from a desire
to numb
so that these thoughts
will be
forgotten

Decayed
and rotten
left for days
in a
wrought iron cage
Anyone
with sage
too afraid
to consume
but 'In-Doom'
I trust
and with full ******
my smile
displayed;
Forward I go
for sins
I pay
and lie within
this bed
I've made

Not night;
thick of day
No difference displayed
Skewed indifference
to the
different
paths
that have been
laid
like the path
of destruction
from this day
back
in my wake
Bindings
can't brake
A life's mistake
Lay me down
my soul
to take
Lying in state,
a viewing,
my wake
My mind
now awake
-
Cruelty's laugh
makes me
an ***
A crass reminder
of a life
that's past
Written: July 14, 2018

All rights reserved.
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