Best Hopelessness Poems
He is so angry; school is the least of his worries.
Sad are his days; he is nine.
Grandma wants to kick them out; step grandpa hates them
aunt hates them
everyone hates them
they have lived in and out of shelters.
been kicked out - he and his three year old sister
along with their mother who hates a lot of people.
he is on his mother's side.
he gets angry if things are pointed out too succinctly.
I believe my mother, he says when asked if he heard grandma
say she is kicking them out.
defensive, angry, a concrete wall,
built to keep him safe,
to keep his sadness inside
the floodgates are not about to open.
he makes sure of that.
never let them see your tears, his mother says.
I may have to live under bridges.
but you cannot come.
you will have to live with your dad.
you will be homeless, and he will not want you,
but it would not be fair to take you with me.
i will be so homeless.
hopeless, homeless, rejected, dejected,
his anger comes out at school, classmates loathe him.
not realizing what he has to do to cover up his sadness.
. for public domain
Every crack in the ceiling,
dries up every river of dreams.
When idle eyes can't view their skies,
wadi minds flood over with schemes.
And every hole in the floors
becomes a bottomless well,
where loveless hearts go wishless,
dry up in a dusty old hell.
The mission bells may toll and toll,
but our dungeons, they fill and fill.
Sweet flowers off the garden path,
wither away for want of will.
In tears that feign to be a slave with deeds
That mourn my life and ousts the face of peace
These sad bells ring with cries for now I grieve
And bow my head because I cannot cease
I choose the weight of ton and gloom of ache
To lay in watch to mark the clock rush slow
The pang of rail, the strike of steel to take
With one foot in the pit of grave songs woe
The sun has but to trade the dark to light
But lost and fixed its loft clings far too high
As cold and cloud have barred such smiles from sight
To breach this heart so meek with sad lost cries
Bound and caged it has penned my last good bye
To spare this heart in dread to spurn or die
December 28, 2020
Addiction Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Rob Levasseur
N/A 1-18-1021
Old Dreams
In the evening when the moonlight;
Gently falls on land and sea.
Old dreams come like wolves at midnight;
Come to howl and torment me.
Dreams of youth their glory ended;
Fall behind sweet sorrow's vale
Dreams of love by sorrow riven,
Like the desert winds do wail.
Dreams are foolish, so uncertain,
Each of us a price must pay.
For we must rise to meet the morrow,
Rise to face another day.
Still tis hard for oft they linger,
At the edges of the heart.
Dear yet ever so illusive,
They tarry long and don't depart.
Sadness creeps into my chamber,
When I think of long ago.
When hope danced to the mystic music,
No one else but I could know.
Dreams like vapors, quickly rising
Rise like smoke and fade away.
Unachieved and unaccomplished,
At the breaking of the day.
It is funny!
Very funny how
A masked preacher can preach honesty;
And even points at the wrongs with his
Fingers of hypocritical righteousness…
We stare with grim satisfaction
Because the black winged Angel
Ridding a flaming chariot tells a tale;
And proclaims that God is love,
Yet he, himself is an Angel of death.
Day after wretched day Humanity walks!
He walks down the dark alley of freedom;
Freedom which shouts fairness;
Fairness that begets confusion—
And he tries to bottle the spittle of birds…
Every night he lies in bed and tries to hear
The voice of fishes shouting gender and Sexualty in a world where the scale of
Equality is unevenly proportional and
Equal rights mean the oppression of men.
Apartheid, the history of Mzanzi is
The present for the African world and
That has caused his inferiority complexes
To suffice and personalize racism and
One after another, generations play along.
Lest we forget,
The victims are just as guilty
As the perpetrators but at some point.
Humanity weeps as he inspects
His isle of hopelessness!
But just like the majority, men;
They cry in hiding.
Where no-one sees,
No-one hears and
No-one dares speak for the black sheep!
Deep down this egocentric radicalism,
He orders rotten eggs to make an omelette
With which he feeds pirate justice,
And he goes all year long
On a running stomach.
Although the words never sink,
Humanity hearkens to
The rumbling stomach of justice but
When the rainbow of life turns
Grey!
Humanity's children cry day and night
While the Angel of death entrusted
Their protection feasts on their tears
And dances to the beautiful sound
Of their troubled voices.
And when the wolf comes for their
Brazen souls we hail at the smiling lady
Who says 'I am virgin Mary'
With fangs behind her white vail
And poison under her tongue—death!
The rich are poor but morally,
Yet no-one sees
And no-one cares;
They say 'each one for himself'
Come shall the final hour do.
It is funny!
Very funny how
A masked preacher can preach honesty;
And even points at the wrongs with his
Fingers of hypocritical righteousness…
Humanity looks on
And passes his judgement.
The masked preacher scoffs:
“No-one is perfect.
No, not one!”
Drowning in self degradation
Deliberate affliction is exacerbating
Crystalline facade dulling senses
Normalcy, forgetting our consensus
Score, decennary years within
point, swirling under skin
Finality, deaths creeping in
Exodus, my last syringe
When silence comes to surround you
and the past riles up to drown you.
Call upon your inner wealth
when you’ve become a shadow of yourself.
Find your way through the disguise
of all your own lies.
Separate the real
from all that you deal.
With baby steps face the wrong
and now the weakling is becoming strong.
Shaking off the cold
and the long winters hold.
Remember what was so real
and how cotton cozy that made you feel.
Don’t ever think it’s too late
to reclaim your God given fate.
Mercy and forgiveness play their role
as pain and sorrow take their toll.
What ever road that we must face
there is no one else who can take our place.
So as we ride the tide let us come clean not hide.....
our champion spirit that lives inside.
There is such a chill.
I’d make use of my flesh
as a heart warmer if only
it hadn’t withered to naught.
Bone protrusions meddle with
the rags of skin that remain
to drape about them.
I feel shame board off
the windows peering into
my mind.
What does one do with their rejected help?
Where does one go to hide from the
monsters of hopelessness?
Care tries to focus beyond the boards
into the depths of my answerless pupils.
I hear pain meagerly challenge the
question deep within my heart, gingerly
prodding at the loose cloth that remains
of my physique.
When did arrogance overpower the
affect of compassion?
Tears collect around my eclipsed eyes,
drowning out faith, drowning out liberty.
My eyelashes swing profusely at the pools
of sadness, but needles of ignorance
sew them to my brow with threads of pessimism.
I try to watch through the sorrow.
How can such barbaric norms exist amongst
one’s mind?
Slander poisons the air my lungs rely on,
dirtying the words that exit my mouth.
I feel my throat close.
Slander is poisoning my air.
My throat is tight.
Slander.
Tight.
As my eyelids become heavy I have but
one thing left, the fold of serenity in my brain.
Poisoning slander.
Throat closed.
Serenity.
I feel the air carving prejudices into my voice box.
I restrict.
Choke.
Restrict.
Choke.
The only segregation I allow is between my mind and the slander.
The choking is done.
I am done.
Serenity prevails and
I am done.
I am done, but serenity prevails.
My days and nights merge strangely into one
The waning moon transforms to blazing sun,
and time no longer means a single thing
My sanity has flown on tempter's wing
I see the world in muted shades of grey
My words get tangled up each time I pray
My thoughts are lost inside an endless maze
I walk from room to room in silent daze
The meaning of existence murky still
No dogma and no creed the void can fill
There's only Christ; the rest is circumstance
That afterlife exists, I'll take the chance
I count the moments of each passing day,
and try to make it through them, come what may
They say its darkest just before the dawn
Before the sun appears, my hope is gone
This world, this place, this room is just a tomb
I lie enshrouded here in cloths of gloom
Oblivion will keep me company
Till resurrection day, don't look for me.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
meddlesome child
grows wild
I thought to myself "Is this real or a dream?"
The wonder at such a moment "can it be? then why me?"
Amazing how deceptive we are to ourselves
Just to have a companion to love and grow old
The common conception better to have loved then have not
Is a lie told by people given up on their shot
I faintly remember regurgitating that theme
But regretfully stated renouncing the lie as I glean
This sadness and sorrow is something that surely will pass
But it feels like I'm dying like the end's come at last
Victory is sweet but defeat has me stricken
A funeral for innocence loss of hope, no conviction
Hopelessness rots inside as the day's promises leave
Left with nothing but pain and the shame well received...
HOPE OR HOPELESSNESS
Can your savior also be your villan
I see my family's eyes can I really tell em
This hurt inside is bursting out
Should I really say what this is about
A slap of the face , a burst of the mouth
Out I scream, but all he does is shout
Ugly, fat, good for nothing
If you think that's bad let me tell u something
Kisses of love for another girl
I wish I were in another world
Feeling abused, used, but that's no excuse
So many lies, denys, where is all the proof?
Denial takes form in my brain
What can I do to ease the pain?
Walk away , run as fast as u can
There is more to this world he is just a man
Cross my heart and hope to die
He doesn't know I'm carrying his child
How many years must I go through
Until I'm torn broken, battered , blue?
Get the hell out run , scatter
But when he says he's sorry that's all that matters.
A hug an embrace, a peck on the cheek
My tears they fall so humble so meek
Broken promises repeated again
I pray the lord a angel to send
Hold me close so close to u
Abusive by nature but to my heart so true.
Do you ever feel like –
You are being driven onto jagged rocks
By an unforgiving tide,
Searching for a refuge,
Searching for somewhere safe to hide?
Feel the world is spinning much too fast
And you are barely hanging on,
Like a vinyl record spinning out of control
And you don’t like the song?
Feel like you are on a sheer cliff face
And the next hand-hold you can’t find,
The storm clouds gathering above you
And they aren’t silver lined?
Feel you are wildly out of step,
With the decision makers at large,
That you cannot make yourself heard,
Cannot influence those, seemingly, ‘in charge’?
Feel you are whispering into the wind
While others bellow into megaphones,
While the privileged feast high-on-the-hog
And throw you the picked-clean bones?
If you feel your warnings can’t break through,
Just be mindful to protect your mental state,
Your views will eventually gain support,
Just hope this happens –
Before it’s much too late…
Speaking truth through lies, in a society so guarded,
Desperate proclamations simply disregarded,
covered by what is maleficent,
unheard and insignificant,
within the draught a cocktail of emotion,
patronising rumours ignite the commotion,
Preconceptions mask the integrity of one’s word,
Misunderstandings faintly disperse, no-one’s truly heard,
a recycled response too quick and bleak,
no chance to think or hear one speak,
confront to unveil the truth,
provoke to aggravate the youth,
flickering flares of cynicism burn the strings by which hope hangs,
scepticism seeping through the caged tigers’ fierce fangs,
rattle the metal, aggregate the beast,
hair lifting, chilling stab, to say the least,
recuperate that which you lack,
self-proclaimed target of attack,
need not exert the power of confidence,
only to be tackled down by ignorance,
A peaceful act goes unnoticed due to preconception of brutality,
Manipulating persuasions, display a distortion of reality,
mercy is only given as defeat is anticipated,
She'll be the queen of my decrepit ridgeline,
Her crown, heavy with my wasted want.
Never knows best, a fault of design.
Her tensions a dagger, a cunning divine,
A soul-bleeder, god as a vaunt.
She'll be the queen of my decrepit ridgeline.
The arson of anger will never confine,
For the plaid that’s been woven, I a gaunt
Never knows best, a fault of design.
I check the guest list for a name I can’t find,
A ghost of a promise, a lingering taunt.
She'll be the queen of my decrepit ridgeline.
I hate sour drinks, but I chug it all in time—
A golden apple; a jaunt.
Never knows best, a fault in design.
As the season passes, with its cruel incline,
I swallow one more time; her shadows daunt.
She'll be the queen of my decrepit ridgeline,
But never knows best, a faulty design.