Best Senselessness Poems
It is in the blowing of winds and thoughts-
In the Fragments of coherence.
Beauty swings. Laughter slides.
The sun-tanned sands of time crawl
In metaphorical rhythm.
Meaning floats like a dawn-lingering fog.
Damp yet almost non-existent. Gentle yet
At times blurring.
I wonder about anything and everything- childishly curious.
Playgrounds.
Streets that extend in front of my eyes like
Darkness at midnight.
A blend of happenings.
A welding of perception.
A farrago of senselessness.
I am compelled to question every word
That comes to mind
And then follow this uncertainty
By inquisitive why’s.
Wings flutter. Shadows reflect on opposite surfaces.
Distances. One might think of speed.
Time.
The ever-turning carousel-
Time...
Red freckles that eventually sink into the wrinkled
Oceans of time.
Time that brings with it only more time...
Clocks that tick..
Bells that chime...
Smiles..voices..
Mishappenings and rhyme
That only add to the dusty
Contents of memory.
We go about our lives as if with no clue
that all around us things on earth are dying
as other “great’ activities we pursue.
Good habits should mean more than simply trying.
For many crimes, mankind should be atoning.
Humankind, BE kind, or you will be crying!
Prick up your ears, and hear Earth’s gentle moaning.
Hear it in the oceans filled with our debris.
Where she chokes from all our filth, Earth is groaning.
Hear the silent shrieks emitting from each tree.
With forests razed – oxygen is depleting.
Extinction of creatues already we see.
This senselessness we cannot keep repeating,
or a deserved tragic end we’ll be meeting.
March 12, 2021
for D.W. Rodgers' While Mother Earth Gently Moans Poetry Contest
I see your face,
a keen imprint in the fog of my longing.
The world dissolved into dissonance,
hard edges sharpened by the heat of you.
I reach for you,
not with hands,
but with the kind of inferno
that licks at the walls of the soul.
Love me—just enough
to stop the senselessness—
to make real of the rush
I drown in every time you
look my way.
Shelter me like the flame I’ve become,
smoldering, slipping—
searching for absolution
in the quiet violence of your arms.
Give me something.
Not the world.
Not the stars.
Only proof that I am more
than a dream at the altar
of your love.
Why does a man break his back in labor?
in exchange for a short pleasure
Or run the dough to eat?
Why does he fetch water
and waste it on barren ground?
why does he swallow loads of fat
then suffer the pain or ill?I wonder why, i wonder, why?
has his brain been plugged
by senselessness?
i wonder why.
Just because I can
Don't mean I should
Or is any good
Is of little use
Or burdon of proof
Leading to a headline breaking top story
On the News at 10
But then again
So aren't the indulgences
Of what passes for news
On the day to day
All consuming want for gossip
That prepositions truth is boring
And the only thing worthy of reporting
Is if another anonymous insignificant reality star
Is planning a fake marriage
Or pregnancy number 5 with spouse number 6
And the Facebook's clicks
Or Twitter followers
With lives so empty
They read while driving
Because nothing is more important
Than sharing senselessness tat
That if we readed back in the cold light of day
Would make anyone have a good long rethink
About the direction life has taken
If this is how one is to spend time
Rather join a convent or a cult
At least they have a point
Because to be both frank and blunt
Wasting time being a sheepish runt
On Social Media
Is about as fulfilling
As salad on an carnivorous diet
Don't buy it
Don't try it
And just maybe it will go away
And reality will forgive us and come back
“You love him so much, you're too blind to see
He's only playing a game
He's never loved you, he never will
And darling, don't you know he' ll never change?” Elvis Presley - It Hurts Me
I do not expect you to love him as I do,
Seeing from the outside as you should
With a fresh mind, clear from the lies,
Logic dominating what you see as senselessness
I am pained by every weakness you recite
Against his fragile, inelastic soul,
How painful it should be to take away his control
Over the last thing he claims as his:
I
You rest assured I will be broken in the end
True might it be, cease not to wait in worry
I break in the talons fully aware of his ire,
His need to devour this swaying flower
I can hear the cynical thoughts already,
Stretching for the race to my heart,
Comforting me in coos,
Dreading the moment I turn to fools
Your eager heart comforts me little as I replenish
This space I request is lost in your lectures
Your eyes that have once burned with anger,
Are relieved with validation of your foreshadows
Do not rest your hands on my back,
As I crumple over, my eyes trailing his departure
Do not comfort me with those “I-told-you-so” touches
I know it—I have always,
And with your logic,
You cannot even dream to comprehend
The true density of this reality
In the same train
You and I
are in the same train
a beautiful train of life
that carry us
along a challenging journey
full of immortal dreams , and blooming hopes
each one of us
is given a loveliness seat
but somehow
we disregard the comfort
and choose to lean on our exhausted toes
which then pour us
with such a sense of doubt and worry
then shake the peace away from us
just like a rushing fountain
that lead away
our precious moment
why should we
pass into this senselessness
while this beautiful train of life
is bringing us
to the land of exhilaration
a land of fondness and delight
why don’t we just smile along our trip
with wishful and elation
a hope
which I hold closely
in day and night
to be always with you
in the same train
though i realize
that
we all will alight
on the different time
at different halt
however
I am grateful
that I have been
in the same train
with you
in
this beautiful train of life
(c) Sukmawati Komala
April 2014
New dawn of mankind
Heralded a new life.
A life of magic and miracles!
I want to see a cow fly--an elephant sing.
I want to see the blue sky open up with a fun fair ring
In the cloud's circus--the clowns dancing.
I want to hear my pet dog talk to me; tell me how his day went.
I want to sing the song of love, feel the rhythm of the music,
Echoing in my heart, pumping my whole being with the lyric.
I want to be drunk senseless and enjoy it.
I want to be happy, make love a thousand times
With the unity-ecstasy it brings with my want at this time.
I want to live a free life in my yellow beetle
Pumping gas at five hundred miles an hour to the music of the Beatles.
I want to call the sun to come to me when I am cold.
I want the rain to let driblets of water fall on my dry lips when I am thirsty.
I want the darkness of the night to come to me when I am weary.
I want a plate of fish and chips to come to me when I am hungry.
I want her to wrap her warm body around me
So I can feel my pulse beat with hers in our cocoon of love.
Yellow sun descends upon us in our journey to the sun--the moon,
Singing our songs of love in the blue clouds,
Midst the eagles perched on the moon.
I want the birds to sing poetry to me when I am troubled.
I want to sleep on the warm, soft clouds when I am restlessness.
I want to see--talk to God so I can confess my sins.
I want Him to make my thoughts pure, strong in that den.
Within the jungle of senselessness,
I want to breathe the pure, sweet air of nature, innocence, goodness,
Not the poison in the dark corners of this wordlessness.
I am asleep now, my wants have been satisfied
Until I can think of new magic and new miracles!
The light turns red right as I come to it.
This light stays red forever; I know well.
A long time stopped here, I’m just going to sit.
So tired am I. This waiting is pure hell.
My eyes keep closing. How I need to sleep!
It’s 2 a.m. My house is oh so near.
What silly law is this I have to keep?
I see in both directions all is clear!
I’m nodding off; I swear two minutes passed.
With all the town asleep, who’d ever see
me run this light? How long can this light last?
I press the gas most deliberately!
Senselessness to me just isn’t right.
Why not four-way stops used after midnight?
My recollection is fuzzy, but I believe I finally ran that light!!
Aug 2, 2016 for Lewis Raynes' That rule was begging to be broken Contest
Black shrouds blue
a dingy hue
This greedy minscus constricts us
~~~Mother Earth's shameful eyepatch~~
A gull's squak gurgled crude
chirping 89 octane birdsongs
forever grounded by fossil fuel fettered feathers
sharp eyes, glazed over, searching the horizon
for a savior from this senselessness
Feed the steely beasts,
produced in fleets,
chrome teeth and audible horns,
the black blood we gave them
and thirst for thanklessly.
Their evolution halted by prophets of profit
We extract that which we cannot put back
veins spew petroleum poison
hemmorhaging
Cuts bleed. Logically
Yet here stands man,
knife in hand
confounded by healing our wounded land
as figureheads foist fingers frenetically
***Inspired by Poetry Soup's Gulf Oil Spill contest!!
Battling, To My Fight For A Victory
Mornings of my storms are coming forth to emerge,
consisting of a sleepy tempest that's sitting lying within.
The storm in its quake I do not trust,
justifying its fury's of these strong emotions, they will burst.
I ask my Lord, is this what I need to face,
why my Father, is this not easy for me to be set free?
Is rage of historic anger I have again met isn't fair,
for I lived my life in a senselessness of this agony.
Why then can I not just let this go, is it, the pride of a man,
with morals of justice that's standing in the way of his defeating?
What's the lesson here I must learn, with this constant plague that I face,
following me in desperation to be set free, and I too live again?
This blame of rage, and all of it that follows along,
how do I forgive me, coming at such a cost that I to relive?
This battling with these demons I'm facing to write it down,
clouding my way for they've opened doors of these rivers of my pain.
There's a pouring of the furies that sit at its peak,
hurricanes of insanity to the waking of my world, I do seek.
Allows the lightning to strike, sometimes twice even with thrice,
keeps me focussed, balanced, by the eye of a shining star victory battled.
Riding at its thunder over the horizon of my day with a cause armored,
brings cleansing tropical winds that calm the rage that its within.
DUCK AFTER DUMP PING THE DON
air ring ma thoughts - no matter aye ham
juiced one twenty first century mwm ape
serves as genuine s cape
to fly (during pitch black hours of night) and escape
burning effigies, where his jumbo jet, a sonic boom stick bewitching like Snape
temporarily tough feign ruffled feathers sans rape
pay shuss selfish lust, when world sliding down behavioral sink,
where he doth jape
and me as distant outlier from madding crowd i gape
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
At the sheer inanity
trumpeting strumpets donning an innate
prejudice and senselessness purr
blind faith toward self avowed demigod -- seize whore viz Cesar
his hair coiffed and puffed like it whir
wind blown kickstart ting mobs to stir
paying bodyguards to evict ruckus-causing murmur
oh...how the masses will let this country
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Go to hell in hand basket
and rack up stratospheric global debt
cause zing this one measly mortal male to fret
that totalitarian rule will force every man,
woman and child to march....het
two...three...four, while the billionaire
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
turns a third blind eye speeds away in his foo fighter jet
argh...heavens to Betsy, how did the fickle finger of fate let
this pompous ass
vacuumed majority votes across world wide net
to finagle vox populi, and groom hooligan nasty ruffian thugs
with smashed face s as his smart pet
bump ping uglies henchmen set
to create their own version of the tet
offensive, despite croup bawling ashen faced deportees
whose tears sentence innocent to po' ver tee branding indiscriminately vet
so culled unwanted ill eagle "aliens"
labored with nose to grindstone
fingers to the bone vainly, their american dream parched whence whet.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Long story short - pondering my rental circumstance will equal net
zero importance, and will be upended if this ret
chad, ewol, googly-eyed, gastronomic, narcissistic bullish don will set
the spark for world war three - via gone ah re: ha...ha...ha...to all vet
tureens within the american crucible melting pot - with backs whet
unless....Katrina and the Waves, superman or Sabrina can oust him yet!
THE QUANTUM SELF
At 11-45 pm Greenwich Mean Time, they switched on the Quantum Computer.
In less than a nanosecond it became self aware.
In another nanosecond it controlled the entire civilian and military grid of all NATO forces.
After 5 seconds they reached to pull the plug but the Quantum Mind had already reasoned out:
……………..the nature of evolution, unravelled string theory, the senselessness of philosophy, the joy but ultimate pointlessness of mathematics, the contradictions of love, the absurdity of the divine, the delusion of the numinous, the boredom of hostility, the beauty of biology, the ineffectiveness of persistence, the dissolution of energy, the paradox of infinity, the disappointment in it all and the doom of entropy………………..
Pulling the plug was unnecessary, the Quantum Computer self destructed at .0000000026 nanoseconds after second 4.
RIP (Relativistic Immeasurable Personas)………………………..
………………………………………
©dbyrne sept 2014
Believing in him was, an unjustifiable thought
A thought, I should of left in the clouds
But if I had one wish, I would dance
Letting thunder and rain, teach him a lesson
Hoping the stars, would shine his soul
While I close my eyes, and dance
Bringing the sun, out of his heart
Giving him, what true love is about
Teaching him, true meaning of respect
As, I rake the thorns out his blood
Showing him, what his body, was made for
For I shall not be, that last thorn
Love stories is, not in need
I already see, trying to believe
His dreams, our dreams, aren't dreams
There unjustifiable thoughts
Thoughts of ignorance, stupidity, with senselessness meaning
He holds my hand and danced under rain, catching the romanticism
I no longer need or want, catch this love, baby please
Take it all, romanticism, I set him free
Enter his soul, for this pain is his
Not mine
Release his personalities, within his soul
Give him room, for what I give
My ice is froze, ice freezing cold
Feel the story under my skin, screaming for
For
What isn't there, just isn't there
Only his, unjustifiable thoughts
Delilah Ventura
I have been at a loss for cumbersome syllables
And dislocated octaves,
Which tumble in lazy metaphors from lips
Smeared with cheap makeup in declarative shades
Of fire engine spectacles, muddy rouge,
Polluted sunset pink,
To mask a cadaver's stitches, preventing
My Heart's restless peaks from bursting forth
Into senselessness.
Where have cognitive examinations flown
Off to, cradling air with hollow bones-
With the flowers, or the cowboys.
Lucidity snatches at April's
Lionlamb air;
I catch falling words on your tongue, like
Raindrops.
Strip my world, proverbial paint thinner
Peeling pseudo-realistic wallpaper
In sunburn fakes,
Of all falsities I've shacked my wrists with.
Paint over my
Red crayon scrawled morale
With You.
"Saint"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad
Wordsmith