Best Unsuccessfully Poems
I salute you oh mighty time:
My best friend,
My worst foe
For
To live without you is simply
Impossible!
Throughout my existence
I have, unsuccessfully, struggled to accept
Whatever you brought to me,
Either it was a sweet smile
Or a bitter tear with
Equanimity
Since
I could not enjoy the one
Without
Suffering the presence of
The other
For
This, you told me, is the order of things,
This is what the heavens
Decree,
But
I, a fool ignorant, resisted!
Now, however,
Older and wiser, an obedient child of yours, oh time,
Have I finally become
So as
To abide by your universal rules
Of growth and decay
Without
Any complaints!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
22 July 2017
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As the sunset of life beckons me
in marmalade farewells, orange sherbet adieus,
I stroll in uneven footsteps,
not sure of the bridges I crossed
or those burned in the process
Alone I follow the polished pebbles
scattered along this lethargic path,
nary a word or whisper, only my thoughts
peering back on what was,
stumbling when your memory finds me
Dark tangerine hints touch the sky
for the day, this day, my life
shall soon disappear beyond the slumbering valley,
diminishing into a minute speck
hiding in plain sight where no one can see or care
I listen unsuccessfully for its sad melody
of fractured bar chords and minor notes
when I again feel you invading my soul,
reaching down from my heart,
the place you still reside
Inaudible tones offer I am sorry for the pain,
the weight I did not realize I carried,
collections of hurt in shiny bows and pretty paper
that sent you away from me,
as solitude now rains in gift-wrapped droplets
Softer my dampened steps move
towards that straight line illusion summoning,
darker still as minutes pass
for I know this end is mine alone
as the moon crests the horizon and I slowly fade away
For the Silence poetry contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
I sat on the floor of the pavement,
Sun shining on my face.
It had been ages since I saw the sun.
It always evoked a feeling of pure pleasure,
Though the one I always remember
It was the rising of the sun from behind purple hills.
There was so much beauty in the world.
But not for me. Everybody forsook me.
People came, and people went. Neglected by all.
It was never a good morning for me.
Someone gave me a paper plate with something on it.
I knew there was nothing but mud on it.
I put it on the ground and heard the laughter
Of some youths who had dared.
I said nothing but felt the rumbling in my stomach.
I had not eaten the day before, and I felt weak.
Then another plate came—a piping hot dog.
At last, someone remembered. I ate it slowly.
It was all covered with chilli that was too hot to taste.
I was hungry and ate it slowly, trying unsuccessfully
Remove the chilli and hope for some water.
But no one offered.
Nothing else happened that day till I felt the sunset.
Some policemen roughly told me to go home to my wife.
But did I have a home? Did I have a wife?
Both had long disappeared when I lost my sight.
I hobbled to a lonely low bridge, tapping my white stick
And rested there forsaken by all until the next morn.
Note: This did happen, but not to me.
There are things we can’t control
As much as we would like to
Just as there are places
Much too far for us to hike to.
And so we need to take a breath
And change the things we can,
Forgetting all that we cannot;
It seems a simple plan.
Yet often our intentions
Contradict our intuition
And therefore all our efforts
May not come to their fruition.
It’s better, then, to map a route
We’re able to complete
Than to struggle unsuccessfully
And wallow in defeat.
Well, he's goofy and gangly and thin up on top
And his real last name once began with a "Cop"
But I don't give a hoot about all of that
'Cause his box office draw's made his wallet grow fat.
If you listen quite closely to how this bloke talks
And you then watch how oddly he lists when he walks
Why, you'd think to yourself he'd be good as a clown
But I'm not trying here to just put the man down.
He's admitted that comics were where he got "Cage"
And his movies have made that fake name all the rage.
I've not kept a close count on how many there are,
But I tell you, my brothers, his fame extends far.
See, he's got this charisma that can't be denied
Plus a talent for acting that's as high as it's wide.
And he likes to take risks, gotta respect him for that,
Using methods that sometimes will end up falling flat.
One is called, NOUVEAU SHAMANIC, a phrase all his own,
And, then, WESTERN KABUKI, at which you might groan.
So his style's informed by the books that he reads
And he'll work it to death, or until it just bleeds.
It's a high wire act but with no safety net;
His unwavering panache makes me jealous, you bet.
Though I've tried my damned best to perform like this jock
On the set I'm as lame as a bump on a rock.
See, I've wanted to act since I was in 5th Grade
But allowed time to pass, maybe one whole decade
Before trodding the boards once again on the stage
So far back in the days when there was no Nick Cage.
I was hamming it up before Nick changed his name
Unsuccessfully striving to get in the game.
But to date Central Casting is as far as I've gone;
About all I've done there is to camp out on their lawn.
So I've hatched me a plan, will you please hear me out?
Take the shillings you're saving for Nick's latest flick
And, instead of enriching that overgrown lout
Send them here to yours truly, and best make it quick.
It's a pretty little town in northern New York State.
To visitors of the region, everything looks great.
There was one obscure fact of which I was not aware:
A big War of 1812 battle was fought there.
A large British and Canadian force started a campaign
to seize control of upper New York and Lake Champlain.
British ships under the command of Captain George Downie
fought American ships and armed forces unsuccessfully.
The British captain became an unfortunate casualty.
Not long after, all hostilities would cease.
The Treaty of Ghent ended the war and brought peace.
I thank wikipedia.org for valuable information I obtained to write this poem.
So as I was trying to study unsuccessfully all day, attempting to get ready for tomorrow, I finally gave up. The following came out instead. Funny how it is with me. I read a post by someone that had been reading a book, and it grabbed my attention. Then heard a song that I hadn’t heard before. While those two events were rotating in my posterior cingulate cortex and medial temporal lobe, this came out. I only had a few minutes to write it down before I lost it. Not sure if my geographical references, or historical names and dates are right, so I’ll just blame the wind. And it’s not really about Native American, black, white, or race. It’s “The Call of The Peacemaker”
Or
“The Wind Cries Out For Change”
Walls closing in on the darkness that surrounds the very edges of my thoughts as I force a fake smile to appear along my face with eyes clouded insecurely holding my innermost pain… Buried down deeply in the deepest forgotten center of my aging body lies the innocence that was unwillfully stolen and damaged… The innocence of a bright blossoming child/young adult that once shined brightly twinkling in the brown pools of my eyes instantly taken away leaving behind an emptiness that I unsuccessfully tried to fill with sexual conquests and hatred… Hatred for the lack of attention to small details, for blindly overlooking the change within myself… The once happy, loving and sensually sweet hearted innocence child was now a violently empty promiscuous young adult who now lacked the self respect and self love that once filled the beautifully instilled thoughts floating around in her mind. Continuous shots and toxic blows continued to diminish and damage the love and respect of oneself from deeply within… Depression stalks the painfully mirrored images of the past… Once beloved activities turned into crushingly unmotivated projects of self doubt and inner hatred.. the fight to stay strong becomes a down spiraling roller coaster as the willingness to drown into the smallest corner to shield the last bit of love and happiness within yourself as the gleaming brightness that once filled your eyes drains and diminishes until it numbingly dies out in front of the very mirror that use to portray your greatest lie covered by a mask of makeup until you no longer recognize that immensely damaged individual you craved to never become.. Numb, broken and defeated are words that continuously run rampantly inside your mind as you drift into a slumber of nothingness you wonder if this was all you!
It seems that no one really gets it.
The painful truth of my regret.
A life lived unsuccessfully.
The one I love does not love me.
I now am on my final leg.
And find that I'm too proud to beg.
This world is more than I can bear.
Alone, I just sit here and stare.
The money's gone, too unemployable.
Too alone, life's not enjoyable.
My heart is broken and she don't care.
Alone, I just sit here and stare.
It's obvious, I'm calling out.
In ways without having to shout.
Someone to say that they do care.
Because I alone, just sit and stare.
P.S. Understand people, I don't want to die. But I just don't know how to live.
With your eyes full of hate
As venom drips from your fangs,
Your pores oozing contempt
While anger courses through your veins
A putrid cloud of malevolence
Surrounds your black heart,
While animosity and revenge
Rips your sanity apart
Your mind has been poisoned
And your spirit subverted,
By the slow death of your soul
Which you could have averted
You chose to consume
The evil and hate,
Eating every rancid morsel
Served to you on that plate
Your wash it all down
With that liquid you hold dear,
As you continue to drown
In your own misery and fear
This sickness has destroyed
Everything you held true,
You've traded your life
For that foul devils brew.
Unable to see
Past the darkness and lies,
Even deaf now to hear
Your soul’s pleadings and cries
Unsuccessfully you try
To wash it away,
As you drink from that bottle
Day after day
I pray for your soul
And the torment you face,
But the truth about yourself
Alcohol can never erase.
I’ve sauntered through the centuries
Constructed this dark legacy,
Possessed the air of leprosy
And fell upon my feet.
I’ve wrangled with the unprepared
Pacified the truly scared,
Unsuccessfully repaired
The dread of when we meet.
I’m there when life is waning
Through the thrall of death, abstaining,
Till there’s little left remaining
But a husk of sand and earth,
I’ve marched with every army
Rode the crest of each tsunami,
But they seldom ever harm me
For I know perdition’s worth.
I’m the tourniquet you shy from
I’m that final, lasting swan song,
I’m the emperor of the throng
That no longer has a voice.
For they’ve paid their solemn dues
As their light of life’s removed,
Now my wiles are set on you
And you really have no choice.
Now when the end’s encroaching
With A wisp of me approaching,
You’ll cry and whimper, hoping
That I’ll spare your sulking soul,
But that’s not in my nature
And there is no power greater,
And I’ll never return later
‘Cause it’s time to pay deaths toll.
As of 20-10-2014 this poem had 270 views and zero comments. I have poems with 30 views that have 3-5 comments. Everyone here is too kind to comment because this poem S***S!
alone, leaving the hospital in the early light
he could feel his blood pulsing
as he dove deep into his conscious thought.
it was like him to wallow in self pity. she was his paid companion.
she would smother him as if he owned her and he did.
this sunup he would have her strip him of his last rag of dignity.
soaking wet in his own shame she neatly placed him in her mouth.
he would gaze into the abyss of his own ineptness
his shaking hands hanging on unsuccessfully.
still he forcefully tears
the clothes off of her non existence
alone and chaotic he ran her through a series of perverse acts
and cleansed his flesh and bone of all evidence of human sanity.
he could feel his intricate
and complex network of exposed capillaries and veins melt.
his naked carcass enrobed in the stench of his own pathetic existence.
all along he fed on the salt that flowed down his
cheeks and found their way to his tongue.
his head lowered. his shoulders bent.
his pelvis indented. his legs unsteadied.
what was once meant to be a man now plodded
to the cadence to the progression of a soundless beat.
reaching his car he turns his keys.
he hears the hum of his engine
as he heads for the safety of his home.
what?
he wonders as he hears a voice.
as he hears his name
once. twice and again and again
he tries to ignore it but his eyes slowly open
a nurse. a bed. he is trapped. he is still in hospital.
what a cruel joke. he was sure.
he was sure he had heard the hum of his engine.
11:45pm
i was at Andrew's,
she says
oh, i see, i say
you remember Andrew?
she says
i don't, sorry,
what about Andrew?
i say
i told you
i had a crush on this guy
7 years back in the PhD
remember?
she says
i don't mind, i say
listen,
after long hangouts together
and many frozen dreams
i realized he was a gay,
she says
oh, i see, i say,
and he was married
married as two husbands
and the other husband
who also adopted a child
cheated on him
and they divorced...
she continues
oh, i see, now, i re-member,
i say
what **** is "oh, i see, i re-member..."?
5 hours i was with Andrew tonight,
with my gay friend, and once in a week,
why are you mad?
she says
listen, i used to mind,
but not now, girl friend or gay friend,
i say, self-assuredly but uneasily
...when you act superior
unsuccessfully, though,
you sound lunatic,
she says
and worse,
when two lunatics join
not knowing where to go
and stumble in darkness
of their ignorance of each other
they are nothing but walking sacks of ****,
i say
oh, i see, she says,
mockingly
you are the dog of night
who barks at something
he cannot see,
she adds
oh, my...! I scream, am I alone,
where is my
"My Brother's Keeper" gone?
now, my muse, Atete, jumps in
she walks me out
and whispers:
"Ase, listen! you can't run
from anything like this anymore
face it! make it or break it!"
"oh, Atete, now i see," i say
to my muse--
my muse aims to sing
songs of Love and Hope for me
but there isn't time...
and i come back
to balance:
the struggle within
and
the struggle without--
and to think of this
uneventfulness of Being...
now, before we go,
let us close this goddamned story thus:
when your muse whispers
when you don't listen
when there is not much to remember
when there is not much to forget
you are at dead-end, at an impasse--
maybe you made them a Priority
maybe you are to them only an Option
you can't tell turkey by feathers
let your Life and your Death be
not like theirs...
if Love betrays
Luck doesn't...
listen, beautiful loser!
Logical me
Well, I find that kind of funny
Because how could you see me
If anything, as
Smart?
After Passionate me wrote so passionately
The letter I penned with the ink
Of my heart
When meek, Timid me tried unsuccessfully to
Admit to your face these feelings
I've had
And so Unhappy me thought quite reasonably
That unless I spoke up, the results
Would be bad
Compassionate me
Sympathized with Unhappy me, and found it
Unhealthy to keep such a love buried
Inside
The romantic in me paired with the poet in
Me, composing a letter I intended not
To hide
Soft-hearted me wrote of Altruistic you
Benevolent, Chivalrous, Wonderful you
Who
Could do no wrong in the hearts of my eyes
And what better way to thank you
Than with my love for your
Prize?
Hence
Loudmouthed me uncapped my bottle of tears
And Masochistic me poured them
Out onto the pages
And though this was no abuse, I wonder
Do I just get off on the pain?
It's
No sexual matter, but a matter all the same
Worrisome me might be obliged
To agree
That Hind Sighted me has lost these battles
For ages
But what reason had I to scar
My heart up again?
Whimsical me had none to do with this
Plot
It must be Twice-Shy me, for
I
Had been bitten, and I believed that through
Your love, I'd find the closure I sought
Two months
Past the fact, and Oh-So-Anxious me is
Squirming in her seat, making
The
Butterflies dance in my stomach while she
Waltzes so nervously
But
Suddenly, I think it's best not to expect
A response from All-Too-Cautious
You
As Logical me makes her way onto the scene
She and I realize that I've said
More than is enough
You get it, you know, and if you don't like
It, then tough
So I will say nothing, and let
You make up your mind
Logical me
Struggles to find the right in all this
Wrong, but it doesn't matter if
I do
Because despite Logical me's protesting screams
Illogical me
Still wants Wonderful you
Occasionally I dream.
Black ominous spots in my closed eyes.
Dreams I never remember,
Dreams I don't want to remember.
For when I do I cringe with fear
Sit in a corner of my darkened room,
Trying unsuccessfully to forget.
Fitful recurring dreams,
That leaves the palate dry,
Devoid of savored zest,
Flat as unleavened bread.
Dark shadows in a dark room,
Swirling, gasping, mutely roaring,
Ugly, brusque, dyspeptic, and morose.
It gyrates meaninglessly in the void,
A menacing, unpleasant stench
That eventually dissolves into nothingness.
Dreams orchestrated to confuse,
Meant to gradually unhinge the mind.
So occasionally I dream.
The rest I am awake to face
The terrors of the night.
Note: I wrote this poem in 2003. never posted as far as I know. Sometimes I enjoy dark poems but they are FICTIONAL.