"wasteful" poems
Happens every other day
Feelings of guilt as a wasteful being
Rearrange brain function
Monopolizing firing synapses
Recycle, reuse
Regurgitating, dull whitted infomercials
All wanting you to buy, buy, buy
Sure you could use another sharp knife
Maybe even a blender
On special now buy one get one free
A kitchen already full of utensils that you don't use
Caught up in McMonsantoland's corporate sponsorship
Frankenburgers all around
Cancer is the cure
Picking you off one by one
Genocide
Intelligence retardant children growing up in front of CIA bugged televisions
They know your patterns, habits, what makes you tick
Big Brother is watching all of you be enslaved
In the end your box will be numbered
Eight humans deep
Stacked high along the streets of America
Guiding the way to the ****** sunset of our existence
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 8:02 PM UTC
Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme,
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone besmeared with sluttish time.
When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars his sword, nor war’s quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory.
‘Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom.
So, till the judgment that yourself arise,
You live in this, and dwell in lovers’ eyes.
5.7k
You really can do whatever you want, you know.
People who say that aren't just naive optimists.
However, they do leave out a very important caveat:
You really can do whatever in the world that you want...
So long as you want it MORE than anything else in the world.
Like... say you want to leave town.
Maybe you don't do it.
Maybe you sit in your office and dream about getting on a plane but you never do.
Responsibilities, money, family, friends, fear...
Excuses.
Honestly,
Excuses.
The truth that people don't like to face because it makes them uncomfortable is that if you REALLY wanted to leave town,
If you wanted that and only that,
If you wanted it more than anything else in your entire life,
You would do it.
That is the simple truth about... most impossible things.
You want it? You've got it. But you've got to be willing to give up every other thing in your entire life in pursuit of it.
You've got to know yourself well enough to know, absolutely KNOW, that this thing is what you want, what your soul craves, what your dreams revolve around.
You have got to be 100% dead SURE that what you want is what you WANT.
And if you are, if you can know that and face it and understand how selfish it might be to abandon everything else in your life for it, and if somehow it still pulls you towards it like a magnet even with all the rationality and doubt and practical thinking you can throw at it...
Then that is your purpose. Your dream. And you will have it.
That said, anyone who thinks I'm unreasonable, or silly, or naive, or wasteful for going after love...
Quite simply, I know what I want.
I know who I want.
I know what makes me happy.
And since I know it so clearly, so utterly, so inescapably, I couldn't possibly live with myself if I didn't do everything I could to have it.
And it's not an easy path, knowing what you want.
Because when the answer is no, it's no to your deepest dreams, to your heart's most aching desire.
When you have to wait, you have to wait for air to fill your lungs, you have to wait to be born.
When you lose it, you lose the sun, you lose the earth under your feet, you lose the courage to look in the mirror.
But when you have it... when you have it, you have a home.
I know what I want. I want love. I want to be happy.
I want to do what I love doing, and I want to be with who I adore.
And if I know that, and I admit that, and I put everything I can into that...
Well then,
It's not over until I breathe my last breath.
I haven't failed until I've fallen.
And I think I can live with that.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 11:37 PM UTC
Why would you stop watering a plant
Because a leaf or two has wilted
That doesn't make it dead yet.
Don't leave the flower ***
Empty with regret.
And if you really think it's dying,
Why wouldn't you keep the leaves from drying?
I've been thinking lately how
People are too keen to throw out
Things that aren't completely broken.
I think maybe we've all grown too wasteful.
And I think maybe you've grown too hateful.
Always on the attack, turning bitter with the winter,
I'm scared to admit this love has grown fatal.
Maybe it's just the weather...
I wish it would have stayed November forever.
Lately the people I see around
Have been all-too-focused on choking
On the ways we were told how to feel
Not all of us always let love be real.
It looks like you fell victim to the culture.
Being in love doesn't have an expiration date
I don't know who taught who that
But either way I'm tired of watching you turn around
And around, and around,
Not sure whether to go west or east.
I guess it doesn't matter,
As long as it's not with me, right?
I'm sick of you exploiting distance as a problem
Distance doesn't hold a candle to feeling
Spend some ******* time dealing with demons--
And meaning it, stop screaming at me and
Sleeping through meetings.
But most of all, understand--
That love isn't fleeting.
I want you to know that
I don't think "us" is something we can't
Be, but
I'm finally over hearing you taunt me with:
"I'm tired of watering the dead plant."
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 12:22 AM UTC
Sitting against the wall
rising, beginning to fall
the substance is cooking
I truly hope no one is looking.
Filling the needle, to the very tip
Must not be wasteful, must not let it drip
Quickly, quickly, must find the vein
Insert it, relish in the pain.
Spinning, spiraling, dancing out of control
the monster under my bed just became real
the monster has my life, my every deal
Everyone watches me, haunting me
the walls are bleeding
the voices are telling me what to do
say goodbye, the new me is not the one you knew
Apr 27, 2012
Apr 27, 2012 at 2:17 PM UTC
The oppressive yellow filth
forces its way in.
Takes over the green blanket.
Ignoring it’s a sin.
A casual passerby,
views this unwanted war.
Discord versus conformity.
An everyday chore.
Calling in reinforcements.
Escalates to chemical warfare.
The cruel inhumanity,
because we couldn't share.
A fight for cleanliness,
and a fight for purity.
A useless endeavor.
A wasteful battle of immaturity.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 7:44 PM UTC
Stupid infidel!
Transport your riches
To the lands of the believers.
For petroleum...
To make
The cellophane wrapper
That you will throw away,
When you buy a new mobile,
Even though your old one still works,
And you eat your mcdonalds,
And listen to Nicki Minaj
Infidel *****
And drive in gas guzzle car,
As you throw the cellophane out window,
And sext your girlfriend.
And crash your car into telephone pole.
Wasting your life!
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 4:59 PM UTC
I remember the bed just floating there.
Apart, apart, apart, apart.
If you repeat something over and over again it loses its meaning
For example:
Homework, homework, homework, homework, homework, homework, homework, homework, homework
See, nothing
Our existence?
It's the same way.
You watch the sun set too often, it just becomes 6 PM
You make the same mistake over and over
you'll stop calling it a mistake
If you just
wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up,
one day you'll forget why
Nothing is forever
I last saw my mom when I was four years old
Before the last argument they sent me off to the neighbor's house,
like some astronaut jettisoned from the shuttle.
When I came back there was no gravity in our home, beds floating
I imagined it as an accident, that when I left
We whispered to each other "I love you" so many times over
that they forgot what it meant
Family, family, family, family, family, family
If you repeat something over and over again it loses its meaning
This became my favorite game
It made the sting of words evaporate.
Separation, separation, separation;
see, nothing
Apart, apart, apart;
see, nothing
I am an injured person now
I work with words all day
Shut up, I know the irony
When I was young, I was taught that the trick to dominating language
was breaking it down
Convincing it that it was worthless
I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you..
...See, nothing
Soon after I left I developed a stutter
Fate is a cruel and efficient tutor
There is no escape in stutter
You feel the meaning of every word drag itself up your throat
S-s-s-separation
Stutter is a cage made of mirrors
Every "Are you ok?"
Every "What'd you say?"
Every "Come on kid, spit it out"
Is a glaring reflection you cannot escape
Every terrible moment skips upon its own announcement
Over and over until it just hangs there,
floating in the middle of the room
Mom, ........
....Dad?
I am not wasteful with my words anymore.
Even now after hundreds of hours of practicing away my stutter,
I still feel the claw of meaning in the bottom of my throat.
I have heard that even in space;
You can hear the scratching of a
I-I-I-I love you.
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 6:23 PM UTC
if words are food for the mind,
then here is a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then here is why i'm so pained.
abandoned, abhorrent
abnormal, absent
abstract, abuse
addicted, anxious
betray, bitterly
blank, blasphemy
bloodless, breakdown
breathless, brutal
captive, casually
catastrophe, cautiously
change, cigarettes
crucial, clueless
damaged, dangerous
deadly, disastrous
disheartened, disconcerting
dramatic, dreading
eager, eccentric
ecstasy, eerie
effete, effortless
embittered, excess
faded, failure
faintly, fallacy
faltering, fatally
fearfully, finally
garbage, gawky
gibberish, gloomy
gone, goodbye
graphic, gratify
hallucinate, harshly
hazy, heartless
hectic, helpless
hesitant, hit-and-miss
idiotic, idly
ignorant, intimacy
illogical, imaginative
infatuated, intoxicated
jealousy, jittery
journey, journal
joylessly, judicial
junk, juvenile
keen, killing
knavish, knocking
knockout, knotty
knowingly, knowledge
laborious, lacking
lame, languishing
lifeless, literature
lovelorn, lugubrious
madness, maintenance
make-believe, malaise
mean, melancholic
mellow, melodramatic
naff, naivety
nameless, naturally
nauseous, nebulous
neglected, nervous
oasis, objectionable
obliged, obliterate
oblivion, obscurity
obsolete, one-and-only
pacifist, pained
pale, panicky
paradise, paralyze
passionately, passively
raging, ranting
rationalize, raving
realistic, reasonable
rebellious, reckless
saboteur, sadness
sake, sameness
sanity, satisfactory
scar, steady
taint, tangled
tasteless, tearful
telling, temperamental
terror, theoretical
unaffected, uncanny
uncommon, unconsciously
undesirable, uneasy
unfortunate, untidy
vaguely, vanish
vanity, vanquish
versatile, vicious
violence, voracious
waiting, waking
walkout, wanting
wasteful, weary
withering, wrecking
if words are food for the mind,
then you've seen a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then no wonder i'm so pained.
-djs
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
how many times do I have to say
I miss you until it becomes poetry
how many since it mattered
how do I tell you I haven't let
anyone touch me since you
because as long as your hands
remain the last
you still exist here somehow
how do I tell you that doesn't even
begin to describe it
how do I tell you all the places you
touched me still sing
like a phantom limb
how many days did it take
for your mother to ask about me
if I'm ever coming back again
what happened to me
what happened to us
what did you tell her
and how bad did it hurt to say aloud
how do I tell you even the simplest
things are crippling without you
how breathing is wasteful
when there's no other lips to taste it
how badly my body has pined for
yours again
how cruel must you have been
to make me want like a child
to lead me senseless
to the brink of everything
I ever wanted
to lead me giggling and trembling
touching your face
and to leave me here alone
without a warning
heaven was not heaven when I
entered it alone
all this love I have to give
is shot to hell if I can't give it to you
so how many times
do I have to say I miss you
until it becomes poetry?
because I'll do it
I'll do it and do it until it matters
to you
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 9:28 AM UTC
I am a half eaten sandwich,
Good enough to sustain you, but with only a part of myself.
I am a half eaten sandwich in America,
like the country, you too are wasteful.
I am a half eaten sandwich,
the likes of which are too large for you to consume.
I am a half eaten sandwich,
that has grown cold as it is forgotten.
I am a half eaten sandwich,
but someone, somewhere, would eat me.
I am a half eaten sandwich,
your belly so full of yourself.
I am a half eaten sandwich,
that will nourish the one that is starving--
For I am not to be wasted.
May 5, 2010
May 5, 2010 at 9:29 AM UTC
Sarcasm, the lowest form of wit
Yet if the highest form is wasteful, the lowest form could fit
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 6:45 AM UTC
Girt in dark growths, yet glimmering with one star,
O night desirous as the nights of youth!
Why should my heart within thy spell, forsooth,
Now beat, as the bride’s finger-pulses are
Quickened within the girdling golden bar?
What wings are these that fan my pillow smooth?
And why does Sleep, waved back by Joy and Ruth,
Tread softly round and gaze at me from far?
Nay, night deep-leaved! And would Love feign in thee
Some shadowy palpitating grove that bears
Rest for man’s eyes and music for his ears?
O lonely night! art thou not known to me,
A thicket hung with masks of mockery
And watered with the wasteful warmth of tears?
3.5k
I hurt with the pleasure of carving knives
plunged into blood-lusting hands.
Standing in the storm of stab wounds
and searching for Gods dressed in human
to give me mental medicine
for wounds that they must trust me to see.
I am the glass-tongued mediator.
I am the vortex that turns worlds to ink-soaked scenery
and words to black noise.
They gurgle out blandishments like they're true! And to them,
I'm a glass door to better days;
they put their famished hands
onto my handle and tug for good luck.
I open and warble out what they want to hear;
a fortune teller who cries courtesies and fills her glass ball
with a concoction of
tears and liquid caution.
I don't want to lose them.
But I choke on their
distorted, glazed looks,
I stuff my throat with gauze,
my chest fills with blood
as they throw their clocks into the garbage
and raise me on glass pedestals
and drool praises as I cry for me
and for them and
for us
and for-
Useless. I am useless.
Wasteful. I am wasteful.
Broken. I am and should be broken.
Did anyone ever realize? How would they
when I am so selfishly unselfish?
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 8:18 PM UTC
Of ***** friends I've had but seven,
Despite my years are ripe;
I hope they're now enjoying Heaven,
Although they're not the type;
Nor, candidly, no more am I,
Though overdue to die.
For looking back I see that they
Were weak and wasteful men;
They loved a sultry jest alway,
And women now and then.
They smoked and gambled, ****** and swore,
--Yet no one was a bore.
'Tis strange I took to lads like these,
On whom the good should frown;
Yet all with poetry would please
To wash his wassail down;
Their temples touched the starry way,
But O what feet of clay!
Well, all are dust, of fame bereft;
They bore a cruel cross,
And I, the canny one, am left,--
Yet as I grieve their loss,
I deem, because they loved me well,
They'll welcome me in Hell.
2.9k
softly
pornographically
the image
of DAY
presented to us
vibrates
and resonates
and informs
and creates us
making us such
cute and ****
personalities
shaping reality correctly
that is
into a world
where everything
including people
ARE MERE COMMODITIES
commodities we may
"enter into"
if we ..
..."PAY"
that is
if we prove
we have done
whatever is necessary
to get from the rich man
his money
so soft
so
pornographically
.....safe
NOT REAL AT ALL
we ***** we f--k
we ball
whatever we call
the wasteful
"spilling"
OF ALL
OUR
SACRED SEED
Sep 2, 2010
Sep 2, 2010 at 12:32 PM UTC
Write me better
Color me everything
Paint me neon and glow in the dark purple
Foolish me
Wasteful too
Trying again to not be blue
Force myself suggest you do too
But if we can't then redo redo...
Galaxy Angel Starship
Shikamaru Soloman
I can't name my cat
I can't do anything
Can't eat, just sleep
Dream of nothing and everything at once
Whats that?
You too?
In this circle of dust and dreaming blue?
I can't imagine without imagining you?
Calm, serene
Life to being, wife of me and
No stumbling or worrying
Just straight forward thinking
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 3:43 PM UTC
Round a turn of the Qin Fortress winds the Wei River,
And Yellow Mountain foot-hills enclose the Court of China;
Past the South Gate willows comes the Car of Many Bells
On the upper Palace-Garden Road-a solid length of blossom;
A Forbidden City roof holds two phoenixes in cloud;
The foliage of spring shelters multitudes from rain;
And now, when the heavens are propitious for action,
Here is our Emperor ready-no wasteful wanderer.
2.7k
*Throw up,
now strip your fear from your illness
speak of dogs chasing dolls
but don't know the difference between
one's inner-self and a mirage.
Feel the sweat trickle down
yeah that putrid aroma
take you away from humanity.
Fear stricken eyes
sense of belonging
it makes you want to choke
run along and find your missing link
it's just that easy.
Turn your head and break my back
blue, yellow and green
it all makes sense now
brake your bones on a tightrope
and seek ye who snorts ecstasy.
follow the purge into an army of rebellion
Tick Tick Boom !
there goes your imagination.
taint my vocabulary
who soars within the bars of psyche.
I lost my self in the meadow
find Bambi and Pinocchio gambling on steroids
get lost in your creativity
find a haven in the flames
listen for her soul
I hear she has the best intent.
Seek purification in
the arms of a sinner
no use looking for redemption in wasteful youth
now darling fade into the night
for the dark will comfort you of all your despair
Brandy + Whisky...*
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 6:11 AM UTC
Strange place, strange ways, each stay away!
Then why are there two roads to take?
The maps and paths, and followed tracks.
And Google, Waze, we trust their facts.
Turn left, turn right we let it steer.
To miss a turn, we start to fear.
Across to tolls, collect control.
Like little soldiers, do as told.
Planned flights and crowds, comfort in traps.
Are we confined in our skin wraps?
Some lost, pretend to just be found.
Some found, act lost, pretty profound.
To take that step, the unprotected.
To turn towards, the unexpected.
A wasteful plan, we must forget it.
Insane repeat, and do we test it?
Misdirection, to find us love.
Misdirection, to find us trends.
Misdirection, finds ideas.
Misdirection, to find us friends.
Misdirection to free in stress.
Misdirection leaves no regrets.
Let one misdirection find you.
Let one misdirection guide you.
Let one misdirection define
And be the reason, you are you.
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 12:28 PM UTC
Just a disappointment
I don't hate,
It’s just wasteful-
Breathing in
and never breathing out.
The space is empty
with crammed tug-of-wars
dragging my heart,
Heart dragging months.
I don't think
any less or worse-
Character undefined. Always repetitive.
Bored of the ****
pulling over old paintings;
Same as yesterday,same as before.
I don't cry
for actions cowardly
shunted inwards;
Explosion due released.
The shedding tears,
carving maps upon lips,
design attention
inward reaps deliverance.
I don't hurt
for lacking sensitivity-
desire for one embellished
with lapping present conviction.
The same minuscule point,
returned again and again-
Intentions to change;
Stairwell to nowhere.
Oct 10, 2009
Oct 10, 2009 at 9:44 AM UTC
wolf ,
can you land meat ?
or are busy being needlessly cruel to 'lesser' peers ?
could you even take a basic stalk about the woods ?
or would you be blistered
breaking in those brand new pricy walking boots ?
a full moon ?
maybe you'd drink to excess on those nights ?
maybe pick a fight or beat on your loved ones
but whimper the next day ?
that smart suit ?
ridiculous over your fur
heard you're on a trendy fad diet
you fidget at your desk
you fidget on your screen
work is obscenely wasteful
distractions are just plain obscene
you are a coward to your soul
soiled by domestic inactivity
Jul 4, 2022
Jul 4, 2022 at 1:39 PM UTC
gnaw red your bone
in the aliform of dream
this
allocation of my
guts spreads lips
onto stained paint buckets
I
never meant for
us to be beautiful
adding
music
to every line
that came out
your mouth—
a moth-springing
butterfly
its
wings no longer
dusted but
dried and wasteful.
it was the
paradox of doubt
and
I cried through
painkiller night
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 11:43 AM UTC