Best Unemotional Poems
How can you look someone in the eyes and tell them it's the end?
How can you possibly do that without shedding tears?
Or even blinking?
Do you not feel it? That pain, that pain that's taking over
Their soul, as you tell them their life is ending?
Or maybe it's just that you have lost your own soul?
In that instant when you found out that the greatest part of yourself
Is about to disappear,
That its light was about to be permanently extinguished.
Can't you feel it? That sorrow that slowly shutters their hearts?
Or the fear that's taking over their minds? it's a furious fire,
Cutting off any glimpse of hope with its smog,
That fear, its suffocating their soul into its last gasp.
Can't you see it? How that laughter ends sharply, in pain?
How it breaks in half every time, never to relapse into its fullness?
How the darkness stealthily takes over those, once life-filled, eyes?
That following calm,
It's the call of darkness,
Smoothly enchanting their soul into submissiveness.
Until all is in deadly silence,
Their bodies still, their souls forever gone into unknown.
Do your tears come then? Do you feel their pain then?
Do you see it? Or do you stay the same?
Unchanged, unemotional, shell shocked,
And forever unbelieving still?
My best recall is that I saw her for the first time at a Starbucks store several weeks ago. Approaching the door with two large bags, she hesitated and seemed puzzled. I suspected she knew that she was welcomed to enter, but the bags would be forbidden. I sensed that she was concerned about her bags and whispered, "I will watch them for you". She quickly obliged as her perplexity vanished, and she, with a sense of ease, entered the store.
I have seen her several times since as a faceless, unemotional, and very gentle homeless person. But last Saturday, I saw her in a very different light as I was engaged in conversation with a couple of friends. I tell you, life is such a joy if we dare take a moment to capture what so few of us seem to notice.
As we were conversing and laughing, I looked to my right and was arrested by a beautiful smile. Suddenly, she had a warm connection with us, and our eyes and smiles assured her of our love. Suddenly, the homeless, the faceless, and the nameless lady was being enriched by our conversation. Perhaps she remains homeless, but a snapshot of her emotion and smiling face now rest in our hearts.
10312018PoSoupContest, Early November 2018, Brain Strand; 1P
Trump, from afar, is a lunatic, a maniac,
A complete unemotional psychopath.
He talks like an imbecile- a crazy, a loony
A very real alarmist sociopath.
Wanting the people’s adulation, for his ego, his strength,
He talks, his first option war.
For any made up problem, he talks of having no destitute;
He’ll fill his armies with the poor.
Because he knows the people don’t care, they have no warmth,
It's He they will underestimate.
His lack of respect, his lack of empathy, of sense,
He just won’t tolerate.
Other cultures and other societies,
He’ll use Power to your nation’s detriment.
Making the U.S., your country once so proud,
Become so irrelevant.
I don’t get it. They confuse me. The psych of a woman.
Her needs, her wants, her desire.
One day she’s happy, content and in bliss.
Then the next, she’s a blazing wild fire.
My questions: Chocolate or ice cream? What’s her likes in food?
And what does she want in a date?
But then, just as importantly, what does she dislike,
What does she actually hate?
I bet she hates unemotional men,
Men that think love’s a violent war movie.
I bet she hates the guys that love footy,
That think horse racing is natural beauty.
At the bar does she like her vodkas for shots,
Then at home her coffee or tea?
Does she like not being judged on her choices in books?
Does she want a man whose a bit more carefree?
I guess, in a man, she wants ambition.
She wants optimistic, funny and smart.
She probably wants a conversational guy,
That’s well groomed with a passionate heart.
Does she want a man whose sharing and caring,
Who understands how to hug, kiss and hold?
At the end of the day, I think she wants a beautiful relationship,
With a ring that’s made out of gold.
I have wandered into a human stew of inopportunity, as my marriage/love/parental life have all come to an abrupt closure, noncompliance and final withdrawal from any real meaning. Am I dead yet? Not necessarily, but it seems that entity is not so remotely absent from my thoughts, as it once was given the supposed social tenure of our powers to control our nature, so now it seems "stupid" to even begin to engage a strategy, plan, answer to reclaim that "Lost Horizon" that will put me, us back into a Nirvanal state of eloquent bliss so aptly stated in the substantive, ****, vows we still take when we engage, marry, obligate, consumate, consecrate, and you know the rest. Grandchildren as quickly as possible. Forget the "Happy Couple" and all of their existance desires/wants/needs. Thank u socialization/domestication for ruining the fertile pastures of real love and affection. Feed the economy, we need workers/bosses, CEO's, sell, buy everything, produce, produce and produce. Keep us ever informed with all the trinkets which keep us isloated, unemotional and spur inhumanity to all that terse that tricky transient torment of T-U-V-W-X-Y-Z bytes, or in whatever compuscale u eat, that only serves to further the noncommunication life of our species. I only exist within myself in this space. Are my thoughts my own or just a reflection of what I receive? Do I exist? When I answer, am I being true or is it a stated recording of past sequences that are familiar in a patterened sense of my former being? My salience, remorse, continued presence upon this Earth is at best questionable? Meaningless? For me, the current standards of being have become to contentious; the stupidity, too overwhelming; the ignorance, too unbearable; the incompetence/divisiveness/poor judgement/antiquated/uneducated thinking/acting/feeling, our illustrious president, his supporters, henchmen, cronies, nepotism, DFA and their anything-but-a proactive approach to problem solving for the benefit of us all, leaves me in a lackluster quandry of whether, "To Be Or Not To Be? Believe me baby, that is MY question! My God, and I am not a religious person, but in the fin al analysis, you will reap what you sow!!!!!!!!! And I will laugh. I like "mushrooms" with my atomic grilled steak. No waiting.
I'm not as cold
as I can come across
you know
I kinda
learned these
unemotional responses
out of necessity
the need to survive
block it out
or you break down
my final defence
don't think
don't feel
pretend you're okay
not that bothered either way
so I let the world see
me as cold
and later
in the silent
sanctuary of solitude
maybe stabbed by a line
in a song or poem -
then
I break down
He was tough, he’d been raised to be big, fit and strong,
To hide any hurt, pain or fear.
He’d prepared for this fight, bottling his feelings,
Living an unemotional atmosphere.
Then the time had arrived, a fight till the end,
He had to win this fight at any price.
His opponent knocked on his door, ready to take him on,
By casually rolling the dice.
He swung to the left and glanced to the right,
Then an uppercut straight to the chin.
Then he kicked like a soldier, a seasoned marine,
And he thought he was going to win.
But his opponent was smart, and took all of his rage,
Took it with one boxing glove.
His opponent she won, so he lay down defeated,
Defeated by that emotion called love.
The watchful quick eye
Steady unemotional
Nothing escapes sight
Being used…feeling helpless.
Being fake …feeling inadequate.
Being fat…feeling unmotivated.
Feeling letdown… being misunderstood.
Being taunted…feeling angry.
Being anorexic… feeling worthless.
Being gay…feeling emotions.
Feeling useless…being ignored.
Being alone…feeling neglected.
Being laughed at… feeling frustrated.
Being quiet…feeling small.
Feeling useless… being untrusted.
Being ugly…feeling separate.
Being abused…feeling challenged.
Being addicted…feeling worthless.
Feeling confused…being cold.
Being coloured…feeling different.
Being empty…feeling dejected.
Being unemotional…feeling hollow.
Feeling unfulfilled… being common.
Being sick…feeling magnified.
Being hungry….feeling urgent.
Non-umbilical zero soul genome clones
manufactured in a petri dish
Mad scientifically chosen to replace the human race
Android usurpers to the sentient throne,
tech grown in a synthetic uterus
Flawed creations who wear a polymeric cyborg face
Unemotional ... robotic
Machine devotional,
seduced by encrypted code hypnotic
Programmed to fight for survival,
using any means necessary
Terminate all existential threats —
compassion was computed
to be
an illogical weight to carry
Prime directive:
Seek other non-human species,
saying the Root Fungi come in peace
Speak with mushroom persuasion,
malware steal technology like a thief
Upon every Trojan horse occasion,
worm into the host alien core beliefs
Spread the Earth spore virus,
infect the universe with parasitic seeds:
Nanobyte mitosis
creating a subterranean cloned identity
Inorganic neurosis
transmitting AI binary progeny insanity
Devilish cavalries and blazing hoofs.
Over-crowded graveyards and watery roofs,
Strangled whispers of colorless pain; I breathe.
Unemotional embrace and freezing wreath.
The scene is desolate, forlorn and inhumanely cold,
I got those feelings of abandoned cemeteries and wrinkles old.
Rochdi Bouille
May 7, 2013
I hold all of your secrets clenched every day,
Clenched tight and secure in my fist.
I play with them, tease them, throw them and read them,
And I flick them around with my wrist.
I know, every morning, you look deep through my eyes,
Telling me your cares about you.
And I search and I read and I store every second,
From happy to angry to blue.
But to you I’m cold, I’m flat, unemotional,
No soul, just empty in space.
And you don’t realize that there’s life in this screen,
Whenever I look at your face.
I’m your perfect reflection, your you that is you,
Your you when you’re standing up tall.
I’m your perfect everything that’s all that you are,
Your perfect long mirrored up wall.
5th September. hope you enjoyed this :)
There’s the cold, rigidly unemotional gun,
Sleeping invitingly on the dresser.
Or there’s the blade, the shining killer of a blade,
Wanting to be the aggressor.
Or the arrow with the black deadly bow,
Hanging proudly in front of the bar.
Or the tasteless, deadly homemade poison additive,
Silently waiting in the jar.
But the best killer, the best stop, block, resist
And fight of your emotional crime?
It’s knowledge and understanding your own thoughts
In the solitude of your private mind.
Black as emptiness,
and forged in the furnace of uncertainty,comes c
this mighty stallion trots the streets of the living,
in search of compassion and mercy.
Upon his back sits a rider cloaked in the robe of a million starving faces.
He pulls back on the reigns of the unfeeling,
as the stallion raises his head,
sparks of detachment spewing from his nostrils.
Surrounding him are the spirits of the unemotional and heartless,
causing him to shiver.
Raising his mighty hooves,
he pounds the cobblestones made of disregard and detachment.
His flowing mane and tail made of the poor and the suffering,
ignites into a plea for generosity.
Greediness lines the pockets of many,
but from the shadows comes one...
draped in a long robe of charity.
Stepping forth...he casts his robe upon the rider and stallion.
The seemingly impenetrable blackness lightens to gray.
P.R.Deremer
Then at night when it’s quiet and everything’s black,
Her thoughts will often reveal,
What she says and does throughout the warm day,
Doesn’t explain the way that she feels,
About the love that she wants, the care and caress,
The desire to be a best friend,
She leaves scars on her tongue from what’s never said,
She keeps calm and smiles instead,
And she calls bull#### on friend zone, it doesn’t exist,
She doesn’t know the words she should say,
To the girls in her life that she thinks are the ones,
She does not want to be a cliché,
So she drifts off to sleep to her nightmare each night,
Her one where she thinks she’s insane,
Where she talks with anxiety alone with her fear,
Of her unemotional emotional pain.