Best Inertness Poems
Twenty-four seven completes with only twenty-four hours of sleep.
I am up against the wall.
All day on my feet.
Pacing the halls.
I stop to brush my teeth.
A day without stupor does not defeat me.
Anybody knows that the world is gone to another way.
Anybody knows that the world is wrong to change the norms of our creator.
Inertness finds me often.
I am shock that I can control my inner being.
Formed from the lack of time, I sometimes close my eyes to unwind.
This workaholic environment is chaotic.
When it is time to relax, I deny myself.
I am that person aforementioned.
Anybody knows that the world is gone to a different way.
Anybody knows that the world is wronged to change the norms of their creator.
To pattern my euphoria, I add an eight day.
Another twenty-four hours of relaxation.
Where I overachieve…
This day is called Type A and is only for me.
If I am to be relieved, I must not aggrieve.
Anybody knows that the world is gone to another way.
Anybody knows that the world is wrong to change the norms of our creator.
Asleep and dreams do form.
I am the leader of my kingdom.
No conflict do I have.
I will return to these reveries were I left.
The sun is shining bright and my time is of the essence.
Anybody knows that the world is gone to a different way.
Anybody knows that the world is wronged to change the norms of their creator.
In accordance, we are in a state of serious absorption as an abstracted dictator.
______________________________________________________________|
Scribed June 23, 2015!
The world dims to a standstill in shouting
incoherencies the fluttering heart spew, clinching
on today through the vagaries of inertness,
and seeking liberty, he sings the song of
life.
Then the finality of death.
And Agni's dance.
The soul ascends from the smouldering
cinders gradually dying and strives for salvation
in aether, becoming one with the universe,
as the universe was always him.
Fifteen days of mourning. Eight opinions.
Five brahmins to feed.
Twelve pieces of jewelry to melt.
Fish to eat.
Dhoti to wear.
Lassi to drink.
Judgment to fear.
On the sixteenth day,
a completion is attained,
and things return to normalcy.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 09 / 01 / 2017
The light of Day and the darkness of night are like Metaphors
For the light in our lives, but also the darkness where upset occurs
Glimpses of light are like hope through life's struggle
Just like that little light at the end of the dark tunnel
When pain is dragging you down into the darkness
Those capsules of light awaken you from inertness
They warm our hearts reiginighting our inner spark
When the light conkers the night and drives out the dark,
Its those tenderhearted times that stop us from falling apart.
The glistening stars are balls of light that fight against the night,
Like knights of the light there armour shimmers, glimmers bright
Freckles puncturing the abyss despite the blanket of the darkest eclipse,
The light of the moon pushing through it cannot be missed or simply dismissed.
The moon is like a big bright balloon surrounded by stars of all shapes and sizes
soon on the horizon the sun will burn through the darkness
as it slowly rises,
Dispersing the darkness of the night, just like the darkness that plagues your life,
The sun will rise with the brightest light, and everything will eventually be all right
Light will always shine through even on the darkest night you'll see a star or two,
No matter the pain or suffering you're experiencing look for those glimmers of hope, that's the light shimmering,
That's what will pull you through the darkest times those little glimmers of light
Some are big bold and brass others mere twinkle shooting past in the dead of night,
Finding the light in life will bring hope that even in those darkest of times
You will see, It's going to be all right
Which Star is Mine?
I walk along this starry beach,
Not one with its brightness can I reach.
I stretch my arms until they hurt,
Stretching, stretching I become inert.
I ask with hope, “Which star is mine?”
The stars twinkle and shine down on me,
I see their reflection in this calm sea.
They look like holes punched in the sky,
They are bright like diamonds that will never die.
I ask with faith, “Which star is mine?”
There are clusters of stars in all sizes,
They will disappear when the sun rises.
Now that my inertness is gone,
I must grab my star before the dawn.
I ask with love, “Which star in mine?”
I see a shooting star falling down,
Is that my star, is that my crown?
It passes on my left, reappears on my right,
The streak of the star is fiery and bright.
I ask God, “Which star is mine?”
©2010 Lynn B. Glover
Machines With Madmen Groaning
Machines with madmen groaning above me at 10 thousand feet,
Grumbling and growling like maniac sky monsters slurping on bloody prey,
Those steel dragons of yore spewing fire and corpses into the excesses,
Like Rodan and Godzilla maiming each other in the frozen spasming countrysides,
Giant crazed beasts reciprocating the deafening overtures of contrived violences,
Contrived annihilations, a few math equations, and we have the Beast rising from the sea.
Here, pour me a glass of your backwashed spittle as it internalizes with basically nothing.
It’s time to find the time to describe a time when clocks will rage on like crazed moon dancers,
When the girls on the boulevard were cool and accessible in their cruising flirtations.
When tanned nomads inside their cool cars found gliding nirvanas, and a bra strap,
Amidst the midnight milkshakes and the incredible nude conversations in the backseats of time.
Machines with motorized redundancies tap into the central eye where speed finds inertness.
Life can be found below the stage on the Thames, river of history, by the Black Friars on Coffee Street.
Incense-filled rooms lie mysteriously down a long gloomy walkway around the opaque tree line.
Ghosts of codgers and spillmen greet the toothless ladies with bloody knees and rotting finery,.
A young bard shakes the hands of broggers and yeomen with dripping quills and pig’s blood.
Grind on young thespians! Read your antique lines, not forgetting your monologues dedicated to fear.
Grant that the music of the spheres above captures the relative major, with silent egresses to be heard.
With censure, the leading spirit communicates its highness.
And the eye arises a long way from the dull streets of weakness.
Further, the disjunction of space and my uneasiness.
An arousing statement that jeopardizes interval inertness.
Gently pick your dear heart's friend with tact and skillfulness.
Not all people's sore hearts are suitable for our genuine kindness.
Assuming the need to evaluate, arbitrarily pick your friendliness.
You merely relish times when you don't prefer dreadful loneliness.
Written: September 5, 2021
Two joined elements swirl around
Into its lungs with wisp of sound
Turning its blood from blue to red
Preserving life as cells are sped
And though not regnant is the right
Concentration to give it flight
From inertness so its mind
Can pursue and happiness find
If not enough then judgments slow
And other gasses overflow
Causing bones and muscles to shout
Till its progress quickly flames out
But if too much its lungs grow weak
Slowing its independence streak
Making the tissues distended
Weight that was never intended
Breathe just enough of life’s tonic
To perfuse a fit republic
Ever poor so it can’t ruin us
Ever meek so it won’t rule us
do
finished, complete
performing, executing, undertaking
function, affair, death, inertness
perishing, departing, expiring,
deceased, lifeless
die
Date created: 08/10/2021
I am crushing on you !
Impossible to ignore
your firm personality alluring attracting me.
I am crushing on you Dear!
I am almost certain, you won’t hear
throbbing beats of my wobbling heart,
but I can’t restrain myself being tempted
finding immense wealth in your mind.
As love is blind, even if you be unkind
I am crushing on you, Dear!
I am swimming and sinking in dulcet dream.
Emotive urge surging, bubbling blood flooding,
passion piercing pricking, ardent ardor whirling,
I am spinning on axis of non -response,
swinging on pivot of confusion.
I am crushing on you, Dear!
though your inertness is almost clear!
'Almost' means ninety-five percent,
as such five percent faint hope is still left.
Can't explain 'how?' or why?'
But 'Perhaps' may justify!
Dream pulls me to soar high.
Reality pushes to drown touching abyss
causing five percent hope to disappear!
Yet, I am crushing on you Dear!
There’s no palpitation in words
No heart-beat in poetry
To break your inertness
I called you aloud
Sand particles dripped down
Beneath my feet
You are a silhouette.
Green leaves of the evergreen forest
Fell down,
Covered the red soil.
My entire life is spent awaiting
Lest these words would return back
Clouds of the sky have covered
The purple crescent moon.
Wild wind is blowing
Pride of the recent hill
Broken, scattered on the way
But where’s these words
Why are n’t they returning ?
For entire life I am standing
High above the realm of thoughts
All alone silently,
Alas ! My pertaining words !
‘ Be frank and open-minded to unveil yourself. ‘ - Poet
UNVEIL
I swim and sink
in ocean of your deep emotion!
I wish to drink
your dormant desires .
Why inertness shown?
Supernal elegance you own.
My sweetheart.
Why wobbling!
Unveil your heart.
Your amorous urge
surging in your heart!
Yet, acting introvert !
Your bubbling blood
to flow in flood.
Why hesitant!
Act vibrant.
Feelings not to let chilled.
Unveil your heart
My sweetheart.
11/06/22
Second place
Writing Challenge ‘Unburden - A U-word’
Contest by Constance La France
Around all material possessions, that I see each day,
Emptiness abounds within, where I rest my thoughts,
I come and go when times sets and rises, which,
Parades around emotions, I have lost.
My minutes spread outward, found nowhere.
I can look, touch, but do not see or feel.
Smells of you, still linger in this emptiness.
Sensations grab my arrivals, departures.
This empty apartment was only full with--
You, dedicating and dressing this abode,
Our departing affections still haunt here.
Even music has no echo, within these walls.
Your tenure was the bass, treble of life
No more reverberations from emptiness,
My thoughts expand; though do not fill,
What emptiness, you have left me to steal,
Emptiness is unfilled, a space that surrounds.
Without you, my life, I am an empty apartment.
That shelters, not even me, as it seems.
My desires weak, I exist in barrenness.
For now and always, I have only inertness.
For
Sponsor Matt Caliri
Contest Name Empty Apartment
Young James always appears to be lazy.
Due to inertness, his mind gets hazy.
To the pool, he makes a tread.
Into it, he dips his head.
Losing his grip, he topples. How crazy!
There being no such thing as inertness
For all that is, is deeply intimate,
Each touch a caress of our aliveness,
Unless hypnotic stupor did sedate,
Deadening us to the throb that pulsates.
Subtle vibrations within do beckon,
Oft negated by ego suggestion.
Yet if we be steadfast in our resolve,
Stillness and silence ushers elation:
As dark delusion does slowly dissolve.
14-October-2020