Tag Archives: Poet

The “Rejection Response” Poem

Reviews (my blog).

Wants (my blog).

A Memorandum on Dreams (my blog).

Source (his blog): The “Rejection Response” Poem

Advertisements

Another Day

Another unproductive day. Another day of no writing. Another day of unfinished work. Another day of waiting on success to come. Another day of pondering the future.

Another day of pondering the political future. Another day of wondering how much longer the freedoms will last.

Another day of very little reading. Another day of disappointment. Another day of comparisons. Another day of longing.

Another day of exhaustion. Another day of lethargy. Another day of uncertainty. Another day wasted.

Another mundane day. Another routine day. Another hopeless day. Another day with a limited mind. Another day with stupid.

Another day with questions. Another day with failure. Another day of solitude. Another day of nowhere.

Another day with doubts. Another day with tyranny. Another day with debates. Another day with slavery. Another day with boredom. Another day with suck. Another day with breathing.

Another day with junk food. Another day with hypochondria. Another day of apathy. Another day of worry.

Another day with uncertainty. Another day with boredom. Another day with uncertainty. Another day with repetition.

Another day…

“Solitude”

There’s never enough alone time
Even when by the self, there are voices
There are voices needed for stimulation
They talk vain words
A momentary distraction
From the work that lies ahead

They foster the imagination
Rev up the dreams
Inspire
Motivate
Stimulate

The crash comes in waves
The hopes, and the dreams
There’s never enough alone time

When left alone, one can think bad things
Make mistakes
Unchangeable actions

When one is left alone, the faults magnify
The doubts, multiply

But the people do not satisfy
Their voices ring, echo in the head
There’s no escape from the madness

The boredom seeks them out
And they satiate

But there’s a longing for solitude
Being left alone
With the dreams and the demons

The ringing in the ear grows louder
The self-doubt, past mistakes
They haunt and taunt
They eat alive,
Drive mad

It creates a longing
A longing for success
A longing to make up for past mistakes
Is the proper equipment had?
What is the difference between today and yesteryear?

The faults talk
And torment
You are all alone
No one else can hear the faults

The sword and shield come from within
The drive, the dreams
You’re all alone
Amongst the moat, and the echos

Cursed to an existence
Of communication conflict
So little satisfaction derided from the words of others

The mind, it wanders
Through the millennia
Of today

There are no coping mechanisms
There is no help
It is just you, and your sword and shield

There is no perfection
There is injustice

The war is, ultimately, fought alone
Things must be fixed
Changes must be made
Growth must be experienced

The voices aren’t as deafening
Now, they make more sense
God damn them, they make more sense……

The desire to be alone
And the desire to express
Grow

The fears still remain
There are reminders
No matter how much you run
They are here

But so are the dreams

One can be driven mad
When one is alone
Perhaps one desires to be mad……

I think I do

The voices are quieter
When alone

The self-doubts evaporate
Until the time comes

But you are left
Alone
And afraid

You finally have
The peace and quiet
To work

And battle your demons

The sea of your mind is unexplored,
Hardened by myths of old, grizzled sailors

The stories, though untrue, still instill fear

The time is now
To set sail
And forget the past

The time is now
To get lost in your mind
In complete silence and isolation

“I Am” poem.

Sitting in Silence.

“What do I see?” poem.

“Conquering the Demons” poem.

The Old Man That Puts New Tires on His Van Every Single Week

Inspired by getting a new set of tires on my car, wondering what would happen if someone were to replace their tires every week, and assuming that if there was anyone that did put new tires on their car every week, it would be a delusional old man.

____________________________________________________________________________________

There is an old man
That lives down the street
That puts new tires on his van
Every single week

His neighbors say he’s crazy
Every single day
But because he’s almost deaf
He can’t hear what they say

(The title of my poem reminds me of the title of this song).