"weltschmerz" poems
German is a harsh language
An opinion that prevails
A strong rolled “R”
Noises, making you think
Something is stuck down your throat
Talking, in everlasting anger
Let me tell you something
Let me introduce you
To the beauty of the German language
To the words of “Wanderlust”, “Weltschmerz” or “Geborgenheit”
Many words so unique
Their meaning poetic
Using them yet so difficult
Listen to us closely and you will find out
German is not German
It comes in many forms
It varies by the region, state, country
Every form has its own character
Every accent has its own thrill
Determinable in the way it’s spoken
And sometimes hard to understand
Differences so great,
Yet compromised in a single tongue
Reconsider,
German is not as harsh as you think
No anger lies in our tone
Nothing is stuck down our throat
And spoken by the right person
It can be quite melodic
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 2:35 PM UTC
Exclamation points are little lies we tell each other
In this digital age it's easier to feign surprise or excitement
When in actuality, nothing surprises anyone anymore
Now - disgust, apathy and scarily even hate
These things you can't disguise electronically as easily
And sadly even less so face to face
Jun 5, 2010
Jun 5, 2010 at 11:38 PM UTC
The lightbulb on the roof
Is flickering with proof
That the mind is dangerous
It's a poison in our youth
Our thoughts are hazardous
There's war inside of us
How are we still alive?
The abyss is cavernous
That to which we strive
We know will never thrive
We're told we should surrender
We weren't destined to survive
Our wounds are feeling tender
Our hopes are getting slender
We're buying what we're told
From the catastrophe vendor
Our brains fill with mould
Our bodies grow cold
We'll die before we get old.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 12:21 PM UTC
Weltschmerz
ˈvɛltˌʃmɛːts,German ˈvɛltˌʃmɛrts/
noun
a feeling of melancholy and world-weariness.
reading the newspaper became a chore
don't wanna read about another war
don't wanna read about climate change
no, don't tell me about the dark side of humanity
might as well lose my sanity
i don't want to know about the dead refugees
it only makes me feel more helpless
rivers flowing with filth
guns buried under corpses of the innocent
i'm a sad being behind a laptop screen
dreaming about glory the world will never see
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 2:29 PM UTC
In nature, as in civilised homes, there is evidence of conformity
That only significant study would make apparent,
but his studies were suspicious and neighbours would talk
The nose is bleeding and his pretty song is skipping
on the jukebox by the bathroom door
Anhedonia now is constant, the pathos inherent
As their mother went missing years ago
While they read Proust by the window,
and the day was drawing closed
Their father was sick with Absinthe shakes
whilst little duck starved in the pond behind the house
On disagreeable days,
profound introspection
becomes not more than
subversive psycho-babble
and the words he speaks
are dust on the tongue
a bother and little more
Purported to be perpetually depressed, his cool demeanor left an impression
on his sister, as she would gaze upwards at his face, displaying world-weariness
So Weltschmerz they called him and his cool was palpable
but only her smile could bring colour to his fa-*
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
You would figure
such a moment would be burned
into the paradigm of memory
when exactly did I learn
life was no cartoon?
well, it wasn’t one traumatic incident
rather a rushing current of events
a drunk uncle here, a screaming mom there
a belting boyfriend or toy-stealing sister
playmates picked dead last no matter
older boys bullying the younger
teachers who didn’t particularly bother
some cousins had yards and fathers
while others like me had neither
always more chores than fun
and no one ever explained how come
priests were less present and less kind
than the mexican street venders
there’s no specific scene to pause when I rewind
I honestly can’t remember.
It wasn’t at a funeral, by then
though I was young , I somehow knew
life was not all beautiful and true
that those adults who told me what to do
sobbed on dark beds and screamed at phones
then wiped their tears or ****** walls
before reentering the room
their eyes a little more like stone
while I pretended to un-see it all
and kept on playing with my toys, alone.
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 6:45 PM UTC
For some reason, it’s a crime almost these days to care about things
and get emotional
at the state the world is in—it seems that most would have
apathy be a virtue
and would declare that caring
leads only to a Weltschmerz of the most abominable sort.
But I say different.
I say there are some things worth crying for,
and I see rain coming down every day.
I see rain coming down in big & little drops,
hard rain
soft rain
never-ending rain that comes from all directions
it makes puddles and muddles the umbrellaless,
ruining hair and suits
It doesn’t just rain on the just and the unjust
It just rains and rains and rains and rains
It rains fire and it rains blood
It rains bullets and people die and ****
and nobody gives a **** which is really
a sort of rain itself, you know?
And the water runs in torrents
it forms streams off of mountains
collects in basins
becomes rivers and salvation-lakes
and ponds with Lilly pads where
more than sorrows are drowned.
(It rains in open windows, too.)
And then there are the ******* oceans,
a whole other problem all together
It just rains and rains and rains and rains.
and with all that water pouring down,
it’s worth (from time to time)
a little water
of our own.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
Feelings are a fantasy,
Star studded,
Very stupid game,
Emotions are just power blessed,
Laced with blood and brain.
A rare exotic tiger,
Love,
She hides in long grass ,
As he dances,
On graves of darkness,
Crouches,
Ready to destroy.
She,
That's me,
A beautiful trinket,
Locked in encrusted jewel box,
Not playing for peals of wedding bells weals,
Wedding bells just give me hell,
In a hotchpotch mess of fools desires,
I am your weeping cross,
Laid by the wayside,
Please repent,
Hell,
I'm not begging you.
Weltschmerz,(world weary)
In this whisky bottle world,
Heart pain,
The fantasy in which you hang,
Not a real man,
Just mixed in with life's emotions,
Spilled over,
Stuck in spiders web,
A dream of online lies.
While indecision cries!
A fool I am,
A fool you are!
Adorned with mania's crown,
Wrapped up in satin dress!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 4:18 AM UTC
But this state of mind
is not self-chosen
but ****** upon
by life's myriad slings
of suffering
and indifference
the body and mind
are first buffeted
and later bruised and hurt
marks of pain are imbedded
like those branded
on the backs
of sheep and lambs
to stay and persist
to linger on and to violate
until life's last breath--
to be mortal
to be human
to feel
to hope
is to know Weltschmerz
sooner or later
few could such escape
seldom does its intensity
subside or abate
the monotony
the sameness
the chagrin
the weariness
the emptiness
the unchanging taste
of repeated experience
the brevity of joy
the hard knock of constant sorrow
on the weak and vulnerable door
of the heart, already shrinking
and sinking
the too-quick ending
of a love-song
and the night--kiss
vanishing
at the first peep
of the day's dawning
the unbearable thirst that's only
satisfied momentarily
but never quenched
soon enough the spring
dries up and the drought
sets in to aggravate--the despair
that returns to roost, hovering
ready for descending
on the self in quivering--
life has lost its meaning
living is but struggling
the moon has gone into hiding
the stars are tired of glittering
the tides are waning
the flowers are drooping
the trees are weeping
and love is farewelling--
Weltschmerz
the ultimate angst
that festers and invades
our total being.
Jan 16, 2018
Jan 16, 2018 at 3:16 AM UTC
Feelings are a fantasy,
Star studded,
Very stupid game,
Emotions are just power blessed,
Laced with blood and brain.
A rare exotic tiger,
Love,
She hides in long grass ,
As he dances,
On graves of darkness,
Crouches,
Ready to destroy.
She,
That's me,
A beautiful trinket,
Locked in encrusted jewel box,
Not playing for peals of wedding bells weals,
Wedding bells just give me hell,
In a hotchpotch mess of fools desires,
I am your weeping cross,
Laid by the wayside,
Please repent,
Hell,
I'm not begging you.
Weltschmerz,(world weary)
In this whisky bottle world,
Heart pain,
The fantasy in which you hang,
Not a real man,
Just mixed in with life's emotions,
Spilled over,
Stuck in spiders web,
A dream of online lies.
While indecision cries!
A fool I am,
A fool you are!
Adorned with mania's crown,
Wrapped up in satin dress!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 4:18 AM UTC
time ticks quickly
its insistence echoes through my bones
dates mean as much to me
as raised voices do
and both whizz past in a blur
the way cars do on a highway
because that's all i am, a kid playing in traffic.
i am no more a child than the girl i was ten years ago
i have, in fact, shrunk.
i have been crushed upon being released,
wrangled by the wind before i can begin to take flight.
the most enduring thing society has led me to think is that
i am simply incapable of living.
i am a sad impersonation of the sun -
shining so brightly for others, though inside,
i am lethal vacuum.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 12:01 PM UTC
I'm good
most of the time
I'm in control
I'm satisfied, I can feel happines
But sometimes a feeling comes crashing over me
out of nowhere
triggerd
like when you finish a good book
the end credits roll
of a movie all so beautiful
emptiness sitting on your chest so heavily
I can't cry
no release granted
"pain demands to be felt"
my heart breaks, my mind trying to keep up
my heart can't keep up, my mind breaks loose
emptiness
the despair of ficitional characters
familiar but strangers all the same
not real but reality to me
I care for them, being dead inside
"face death, deal with it or lose yourself"
the last page is turned
the story stopped
all are dead and yet alive
in me
not enough room, make way
I try to numb it out to get back in control
whisky burns my lips
smoke scratches my throat
whishing for release
lose it, keep it tucked in forever
though I feel, finally
alive
I want to punish myself
I lose control for good
emotions bundle up to the surface
make up for time lost before
drunk texting
regret in the morning after
I need to express myself
to you, to anyone, get it out
there is no one here
Weltschmerz
pain of the world
all in one
tiny little heart so fragile
I'm made up of stories
My friend can I come over
I'm in that mood again
Feb 22, 2021
Feb 22, 2021 at 2:31 PM UTC
It burns-- Immensely
Unclear why the pain is so bad.
Why does it feel this way--
Locked up but
The treasurer owns nothing,
Feeling the weight of
Other's unknown thoughts--
The new pain
Mixes with the old,
Devouring all in an
Unchanging harmony of this life.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 7:43 PM UTC
From the depths of the fresh whisky bottle.
Weltschmerz, (world weary), altered his thought concoctions.
His pleasure filled coffee.
Invigorated by inspirational alcohol filled kisses.
Ode to being happy, as happy he's not.
To be loved is something, he truly forgot.
She's not a drinker.
She's just a deep thinker
She never forgot.
For she never knew, how love truly felt.
Then she met you, the angel who drank.
Once she was lucky.
For once, just once she loved an angel.
(c) Livvi
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 10:32 AM UTC
is weeny people
having thoughts that
are immense, vast, oversized for their age
for their teeny, picayune bodies
but that isn't the problem
it's the elders not acknowledging them nor their thoughts
it's their need for self destruction
it's anxiety, depression, Weltschmerz all over again
it's not being enough
but feeling
way too
much
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 8:36 AM UTC
.
In this century withal
Rivers of blood still flow
Bombs echo
Children are being killed
Heads are being severed
Millions are starving
Diseases are devouring
And you are singing
The gallows are trembling
In the valley of the fallen
In the salty tears
With our putrescent sores
We fall prey to the crows
Our festering entrails
For the starving wolves
A shattered house
Little boy is weeping
Over the body of his Father
That forever now is sleeping
Schools Temples and bridges bleeding
bloodstained wedding guests are screaming
Little white coffins
Maternal howls
Above Uranus
Hear the painful growls
Delirious poets are prattling
And not a word are you uttering
They blinded you
When they ***** your daughter
Strangled ‘er with the wire
They abducted your brothers
Tortured in the cellar
Shattered their fingers
With ferrous clubs
With a saw agape their skulls
Their legs wagons lacerated
Their limbs with machete dissected
Flayed the skin of their backs
Dumpers of corpses
Bulldozers to the grave consigned
Roads run over their bones in cement confined
Bodies filled the bottomless well over the brim
Come closer
Look within
The infinite darkness of the abyss
To hear the silence of the universe
A spark is glistening in an innocent eye
Children are helplessly falling to the dust
Venomous saliva dripping from their mouth
As their rosy intumescent faces bust
In their closing prayer
Reverends to a cross immured
Laughing at the stake they burned
Tender ivory cherubs
Flew away like a flock of birds
Rip my heart out from my chest
As I am unsleeping
May your golden ship catch wind away from shore
To raise your glass of blood once more
As you feast your eyes in silence
Saša Milivojev
Translated by Ljubica Yentl Tinska
Oct 21, 2019
Oct 21, 2019 at 2:09 AM UTC
I the lonely meadowlark
Perched upon the thistle
Waiting the sickled mower to pass
I the cracked egg
Fetal heart slowing, slowing
Death before the hatchling birth
I the hare crouchant
Scarce aware the shadow’s dive
Screeching beneath the talons
I the wind-torn tree
Branches scattered, bleeding sap
Beetles explore the shredded bark
I the fawn uncertain
Edging the splattered highway
Mother shattered in the lane
Jul 29, 2021
Jul 29, 2021 at 11:47 PM UTC
The ravage and scourge of time
joys marred and hopes muzzled
moments tested and inchoate
experiences which puzzled
for life is a silent drawn- out drama
its sides are prickly and they bristle
there are long dark nights to endure
dreams are frail and brittle
foundations are rotting and are unstable
many unsuspecting fall into dire quagmire
views ahead seem like green fields but deceive
they are mirages and spell the demise of desire
the endless quest and the inane weariness
the world has its beauty lost and has grown old
sighs, regrets, despair, unrest and doubt fill the daily page
the existential angst of living is told and retold.
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 3:22 AM UTC
Pages of a book are too trivial
Bah Humbug! That one's archived
And 7 Years
Doesn't catch me when I fall anymore...
I can smile and distract myself
But "I chase perfection"
My personality won't run, though
Stuck between confusion
I'm not lonely
I'm not mad
I say I'm Switzerland
But I end up helping both sides
Thank God I'm not an open book
So stop calling me depressed
And stop giving me that look
Everything isn't a mess
So understand me, I'm tired
Staying neutral is too hard
Only one person can change me
I hope you understand it's not you
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 11:07 PM UTC