Best Uselessness Poems


Judgement

Judgment

When I shall be the old man here,
Forgot by time, uncountable by year,
When I shall wish to pass the living brink,
At You I shall devote my thought and think.

Uselessness I`ll see in all that I achieve,
If I do not have love or can`t forgive
To do with love all that you have so ruled,
Unknown or known as suffering endured.   

Washed I should not be from any of my sins,
If I did never forget or never forgive since
The hour of balance is inclined toward my trap, 
And hardly passes us one thought or any other step.

And if I did not help that stranger foreign man,
A good word for the pain of that wretch sideman,  
If I have never known to help my friend or mat, 
In vain I shall be sorry, cry shouting or fill pat.  

Or maybe all these I have done presuming, 
But without love, alien and with so confiding,
Than I am just a sonorous forefinger copper,
An ugly earth body without climbing upper.

But even so, there is existing one more chance,
The wisdom in the last hour of one slippery Trans,
     To give me power to see what does He want,
As life to give me; not to take and be redundant.  

But sorrows, which born from facts and sin,
As are recognized, even now could be foreseen
That Judge with love in everything he does,
Inquires all and, with affection… forgives us.

Vomit On the Therapist

Inside is his MIND that's riddled full with mental illness,
Hides intellectually supreme being filled with logic, intelligence and great genius.
His sorrow is that a man, one full of mankind's afflictions, anguishes, and tears.
The subconscience keeps the burden of all the lives lived throughout many hundredstudents of thousands of years.
At his core is a centered compassion, a wisdom, a perception, and the ability of an EMPATH.
He feels the emotions of others, understanding the fullness of grace in each little wrath.
The feelings are clarified in words delivered through the LYRIC and POEMS of his blood pen.
A troubadour is within him, as is all the souls of lives he lived over and again.
Building his temple, with the tools of honesty, forgiveness, and patience that is grand.
A foundation built through pain that's strengthened with in him for his towers that will forever stand.
A conscience that gives mankind a gift of their happiness before his own.
Debilitated mind illness overpowers his decisions by emotions alone.
Contradicting bliss with meaningless aspirations with mindlessness and reasons with uselessness.
His is the pain self indulged by the mayhem that blinds then binds worthlessness.
And still his minds genius allows him to know then learn all that he touches with an ease to maintain.
For he is about the thing you fail within the contradiction of salvation.

Storm Brewing

As I stepped out
onto the porch this evening
I felt unnerved
by the atmosphere
There was nothing but
calm stillness, and yet-
it bore a hint
of turbulence so small
as to only be perceived
in an odd sensation
on my skin

Thinking of the calm
before a storm
I hastily scanned the sky
searching for an ominous sign
But the sky was clear
albeit a weird mixture of hues
with too many shades of
Barbie pink overshadowing
the dusky purples and blues

The yard itself seemed
normal-but-surreal, too...
and looking at the
technicolor-green grass
I felt overwhelmed by
a heavy stillness in the air

As though I were trapped
in a vivid photograph
the only thing still alive
still moving- and suddenly
utterly oppressed
by a feeling of uselessness
with no idea of what
to do with myself
I felt a crazy impulse
to run away; as if
my presence there
was the problem
and that by leaving I might
find my way back
to other living (moving) things.

Inside once more
I now find the surreal stillness
has moved inside the house...
casting a pall over
the living space and
stretching down the hall

I fancy it has followed me
edging closer, stalking me
quickly closing in-
but as the feeling begins
to encapsulate me-
I am shocked to realize
that the turbulence feels
strangely familiar

I had only noticed it
in the stillness
away from daily distractions... 
but it was within me
from the start.


The Dark Poet

O, letting my thirsty, thirsty thoughts slip 
off from the back of my head onto the 
screen of your great lie as smart as a whip

leads me back to the berry field where we 
used to stroll our shadows, to ravage this
love, smearing it with berries so bloody!   

Then, my thoughts and I were cute and at ease,
patching the crack in the mirror of your 
life, with a quill deplumed from my own piece.

And I humbly affixed the signature 
of my lips, on yours, for posterity 
when you were so well asleep in my cure.

But why, oh why, you let a bumble bee 
remind you your failed history? Ah, now...
you’re the loneliness of my poetry!

Wild you, wild you, don’t you really darn know 
a bit of what you sow is what you reap? 
That to the uselessness of nights you’ll bow...

O, letting my thirsty, thirsty thoughts slip... 
beware, for I surely know how to pray!

The Breakup

You detached me from your regard.

You devalued me with your unkindness.

Your unapologetic apathy underscored my uselessness.

But, when you told me to get out, you were redundant.

I was already gone.

I'M a *****

I'm a *****!
I'm a bastard!
But that is who I am
A paradox of virtues criss-crossed with elements of brokenness...
 
I have become what I have feared,
indifferent and disillusioned...
a man full of pain
let down by those that he thought were close
surprised by those that he thought didn't care...
 
The road that winds ahead is not an easy one,
the constant fear that my humanity can be changed in an instant...
a freakish second that can make or break me - 
that can cause untold damage
but still I continue....
 
To fight and claw my way to sanity - 
to be the man I want to be
but...
don't write me off yet, I will do what it takes to become me again!
 
I cannot - will not tolerate fools
those insipid ones that constantly want to break you down with their uselessness...
 
I need to surround myself with the positive light and love of those that know, care and understand - 
My health depends on it!
 
Copyright Deon JH Burger 2014


Premium Member Staying In the Ministry of the Lord

Staying in the ministry* of the Lord shows our genuine submissiveness
Since He has transformed us from sinfulness’ uselessness…
…Toward ways of holiness by His forgiveness’ effectiveness.
Indeed securing our soul along His merciful graciousness!

Staying in the ministry of the Lord declares our humble position
Since He has rescued us from transgressions’ destruction…
…Toward deeds of kindness by His workmanship’s sanctification.
Indeed justifying our status along His redemptive adoption!

Staying in the ministry of the Lord asserts our wholehearted sincerity 
Since He has pulled us from worldliness’ vanity…
…Toward values of eternity by His leadership’s authority.
Indeed converting our perspective along His wise sovereignty!

 Staying in the ministry of the Lord upholds our confident stand 
Since He has freed us from selfishness’ demand…
…Toward sacrifices of service-errand by His Scriptures’ command.
Indeed bending our will along His powerful hand!

Staying in the ministry of the Lord anchors our obedient paces 
Since He has separated us from haughtiness’ curses…
…Toward exaltation of worship-praises by compassion’s forces.
Indeed straightening our attitude along His righteous braces!

Staying in the ministry of the Lord proves our faithful stewardship-card 
Since He has cleansed us from filthiness’ hazard…
…Toward duty of kingdom-vineyard by His perfection’s reward
Indeed guarding our spirituality along His biblical standard!

Staying in the ministry of the Lord blesses our grateful life-story 
Since He has grabbed us from wickedness’ misery…
…Toward expansion of soulwinning territory by His Gospel’s glory
Indeed strengthening our faith along His mighty victory!

*1Timothy 1:12 And I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who hath enabled me, for that he counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry.

October 11, 2019

Proceed To Live

Consistent in your hopelessness,
   Confused about your uselessness,
       Condemned into your ruthlessness,
            I pray I find my fearlessness,
               Untamed and wild you broke me down,
                   Truth... “What goes around comes around.”

                                    Astounded from your dirty lies,
                            I've wiped away my crying eyes,
                  Learning of your contained disguise,
         All the wonders of what's and why's,
    Alone at night because of you,
I blame myself that we are through.

Believing in your confidence,
    You rail my false incompetence,
         You fed off my nonexistence,
             No need for my own assistance,
                   Controlling my sad sanity,
                        By your indignant vanity.

                                 I lay in bed...what should I do?
                            Explaining why he is untrue,
                       I hear what I already knew,
               My heart undone and misconstrued,
       I sleep again and will forgive,
For him I shall proceed to live.


Date Written: December 16, 2015

Life Is Not Bad Enough

Sometimes I feel this is useless to prolong the living 
In another time in another place the feeling is quite the opposite 
And I go possessed with the idea that I must see the end of this uselessness ;  

Frequently I go angry with all the people around me 
For being a pathological liar or being a diabolical hypocrite or a just cheater 
Yet I take pity on them for being so helpless in front of truth; 

The truth of life helps me to think a bit deeper 
And all my bitterness goes in a swipe when I see the frivolity of life 
From depth I rise  thinking if I create something that would not be bad enough ; 

No sooner I get the creative mind from the crowd I find someone to say 
If I would talk to her, if I would make her my friend 
Life is very puzzling so it is very beautiful, we together must stir it and explore; 

Sitting on a bank of a river I saw streams to gyrate vigorously 
Here I see friendship and love are more perplex and tumultuously demanding 
Yet the taste of love is not bad enough to get it once in one’s entire life.

Within Her Heart

Within her heart

Within her disassembled heart she saw a world of pain.
The loss of a thousand lives obliterated.
Brief memories no longer remained.
Whatever mattered within her heart, it drove her insane.
Emotions in essence deteriorated, with nothing left to gain.
She felt as if she had to run an hide.
Now leaving a lost soul no one knows inside.
Within her heart is a losing battle she wishes did not exist.
Stuck within a world of uselessness. 
Unable to break free.
With no one left by her side.
Within her heart is where she will be.

Beautiful Minds

He visits altercations on a daily basis

Of a not so soon enough wedding day kiss

Damaged by headlights and the careless left lane

His beds' been ridden of the wrong Mary Jane

Even recalling the uselessness of the brakes

To their daughter, he's determined to disguise the pain

For every play-date, he changes his name

He collects his composition without a chance of rain

He prays to a God without nothing much to give

But the babies cries and his own bruised lips

To save another girl from being deprived to live

C'mon, man. You know you've got to do this.

Some nights, he can't take it

He's wrapped in two blankets

Beside both princesses, don't know what he's thinking

But he takes it in without a moment wasted

So glad you're making it

 

Without the mother

It's been something other

But he holds on this living Wonder

 

She's only seventeen

Without a single meaning 

Of this disproportionate life she's been meeting

The mirrors wake to a girl who won't stop bleeding

Can't see past the red from the girl she's been beating

She's aware she's developing

But can't take society

Can't own up to good grades

Can't find her sobriety 

The love of her life doesn't know who he's dating

Stuck in reverse, she still wants to change Me

Who could she be?

Who'd love her for the words she'd breathe?

She's made up of fairy tales and ancient poetry

The only things left she finds herself believing

in are empty outlets and a frustrated family.

 

Without a day to seethe

Without nights of deceit

She deserves more than this everyday disbelief

 

I can't help but say this

You are more than these places

You find yourself facing

You are more than your brain thinks

 

Quit wasting it too much imagination

Premium Member No More To Give

A voice on the phone from so far away.
A friend faces ruin. he's hit the wall!
He climbs into my head, hoping he may
find some little drawer of magic in all
our shared memories, or unexpected 
door of insight opened to solve
his situation. It's an unrewarded
search in which we both clumsily devolve
into clichés and find ourselves tripping
over old patterns. I want to help
but just short of his condition am stepping
away in fear, with nothing to give but guilt
of my uselessness. So some bracing words, 
and hope for better hide ominous chords.

Inside the Box

Washington always “thinks inside the box.”
No wonder why we're in this fix we're in.
Their collective thinking stifles or blocks
The country’s progress and provides the spin
To sway the public view to uselessness.
This herd mentality is quite bizarre
To think that all these minds can not express
A single “out of the box" thought thus far.
It’s piteous, at least to me, to see
These coattail hangers we call congressmen-
Inane, inept reps of the bourgeoisie
Wind up screwing us time and time again.
One must conclude this simple inference:
Vote in or vote out makes no difference.

The Language of the Sea

The Language of the Sea .......by Peter Onyancha

I am left in the marriage of one Odeon poet
At dawn there is light deep above the water
In the knowledge I jump ship; I advent 
And dip my nervous finger inside
To feel the wetness of the water
I part my lips in awe, oar after oar
I paddle until I hear no echo
For the chubbiness of the waves of the sea
And the sea wives, swinging their waves, hear
That way I speak in a language 
That only I and the sea understand
But I have lost my Odeon poet 

(This is the 6th stanza of a long poem titled: The uselessness of Poetry)

Cliffhanger

Teetering on the edge 
staring into the darkness below 
the swirling emptiness 
reminds me of my soul 
a bottomless pit 
filled with hopes and dreams 
never to be reached 

and yet I dangle 
day after day 

I should have lept by now 
to discover new depths 
or to end old disappointments 
but like the punch drunk boxer 
whose pride refuses to quit 
and never intelligent enough 
to realize it is time 
I shall battle on 

yet it would be so easy 
to throw in the towel 
submit to uselessness 
to martyr myself 
but it is not my pain 
nor my suffering 
that approaches the edge 
it is yours 
and my desire to take it 
into the depths of my very soul........ 

I wish that I could sacrifice myself 
for the pain of the world, especially the children, 
but then I realized I am amongst the multitude.
© Bob Shank  Create an image from this poem.

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