Insensitivity Poems | Examples

Big Pictures

There are people with whom
One might disagree at certain levels.
The dividing levels might even be ones
Of insensitivity, discouragement,
And even hurtfulness.

Notwithstanding such disagreements,
One might yet endorse and support
Such a one on other, more vital levels.

In so doing, one should see it, not as
a conflict of interest, but rather as
a higher view of the big picture.

The Abyss of Time's Canyon

Perhaps time will smooth the rough edges
Memory soften the toughness of his words
But now they must wrap him in moment’s lie
Bathe him in a flow of moistened myths

Will any speak of who he really was
Chuckle at his insensitivity
Mask the folly of his arrogance
Tickle the timber of his humility

Will they dabble in theories of life’s meaning
Standing on the abyss of time’s canyon
Or focus on the meaning of his life
His presence, his laughter, his sharp wittiness 

We know he would not care for flowers or bagpipes
Would tolerate quiet sadness
Perhaps an unintentional chuckle
At a whispered one liner

He would not care for too many prayers
Would love those “remember that time” stories
For they let him find a way to say farewell
Knowing that he left you all a piece of his self

Authentic Again

Darkness cascades, 
When dawn fades.
Reigning is rare
Until dusk spades
Into depth of faiths,
Not a day but decades.
Insensitivity impairs
But care repairs
Authenticity is supreme
It's not just in my dream
Anymore on just lash's rim.
Rebirth is not a flair,
It cleaves through twilight
Like an ineffable beam

BLACKMAILER

You make me happy.
You are full of life.
You represent everything I need.
Please, call me mine.

These are my sweet, weak but effective lines to get through your walls;
they work like magic, always.

My first week with you will be soothing;
I'll take you to a paradise of ecstasy,
and you'll forget your worries.

Wait, give me a little time,
and I'll commit my usual wrongdoings,
projecting myself as the victim,
where you'll pay dearly for my insensitivity and lust.

Don't forget, you're just an option in my dealings.

You will never grow tired of the world I've created with you,
but I can revisit my dirt;
I'll hurt you and drag you through the mud.

I won't give you access to my temple;
you don't need to complain,
for I'll be accountable only when I'm with you.

I'm comfortable with the wrong impression;
above all, I'm not meant to be kept, due to my nature.

Your Freezing Cold Attitude

Do not be despicable
It is really terrible
How your attitude is being
Your humanity is fleeting
More and more each time I see
Your mannerism, its clearly
Out of control, so out of whack
All you ever do is attack
With words of fury and disgust
That break down and badly bust
Anyone that comes your way
Thinking it is fun to play
With the fragile emotions
Clueless about any notion
How much pain you are inflicting
Or the way it is affecting
The lives you are tearing apart
Where is the love in your heart
Your ice cold and do not know
How this freezing leaves a glow
Of hurtfulness or does it matter
Your about to really shatter
Into a million broken pieces
Everyone who ever reaches
All the iciness inside
The dark pit you always hide
Only coming out when you
Want someone to feel blue
Does it make you happy when
A day is ruined once again
By your insensitivity
Can't you realize and see
There is another way to live
If you'd try to care and give
Less of your ignorance
In return you'd know kindness
Thawing that icy cold heart
You can make a better start

INSENSITIVITY, WHATEVER

The way in which we’ll be ourselves

Wildflower

I exist bound by you
like wildflowers planted pitilessly in dry soil
that plunder and devour the strength of my seeds

My stem grows pallid
My petals scentless and uninspiring
My roots withering in arid dust 
strangled by weeds of apathy

Parched in the blight of callous care
Squandered in winds of insentient lies
That snare fire like fugitive arsons 
Burning me with insensitivity to shrivel and sicken
As you beget your vanity with the strength
Of the Sun’s scalding degrees

So scarce the waters of your compassion
that scarcely feed my soul
I stand naked, bare and weak
in the barren home inside your pain

I cling harder to grip
As I wither in the dust of lonely casualty
Strangled and forfeited 
 
I slowly die clenched in your fist of willful despair
trembling from your demise
As my unseeing love yields the compromise

May 24, 2023

Brian Strand Premier No. 1219 Poetry Contest

Poverty - Potw

"living in a man-made island,
with blinded eyes, and unfeeling heart" (Quote By Poet)


What do we know about poverty,
What do we understand about suffering…
It’s a miracle that we were born into families
who had enough food to eat and share,
celebrate festivals lavishly with gifts and delicacies, 
Enough space to live, and comfortably too!
Enough clothes to protect from ravages of weather!

What if we didn’t!

Born in a non-affluent country,
I have seen the down-trodden,
I have seen people begging, starving,
Living in the most miserable conditions…
I have also seen the opposite...
People flaunting their expensive clothes,
jewellery, houses and cars,
without slightest remorse or feelings of pain!

Poverty is a curse, but
Being super-wealthy might be a curse too!
It’s like living in a man-made island,
with blinded eyes, and unfeeling heart,
surrounded by walls of cruelty, and
insensitivity! 


            March 28, 2023
Writing Challenge "P' words Poetry Contest
              Theme: Poverty
      Sponsor: Constance La France
                 FIRST PLACE

 POEM OF THE WEEK - week of April 2, 2023

Idiocy of I Know How You Feel

My mother is dead.
Life continues for others.
I see them mowing their lawns.
Children are outside, playing, laughing and swinging.
I know how you feel some idiot says.

My mother is gone.
No more laughter.
No more smile.
No time to say I am sorry.
No time to hear I love you.
I know how you feel some idiot says.

My mother would be rolling her eyes.
She would make fun of their insensitivity after they go.
We would giggle about the ridiculousness of this stupid saying.
I know how you feel.
Of course they could not.
She is not their mother
And she is gone.

Compassion Fatigue

Exhaustion drips its weary head
Shrouding me with desolate apparel
A forlorn wardrobe of melancholy blues
Colors of emotional peril.

Indifference holds my body still
Unconcerned with the cold
Distant journeys in my thoughts
Apathy strong in its hold.

Nonchalance a steady companion
Detaching me from reality
Unaroused by what’s in front of me
I’ve lost all sense of vitality.

Inattention stands unyielding
Unwilling to make way for diligence
Insensitivity plants a seed
Growing strong in its militance.

Numbness gnaws away at my spirit
Paralyzed from its greed
Dulled by life’s anesthesia
I lack the passion to be freed.

Commonality

Carefully we planned for the big day 
Oblique qualms and doubts drove me away
Moody and thoughtless insensitivity
Maudlin thoughts curbed the festivity
Onerous thoughts like small transmitters
Now revealed my flutters and flitters
Ashamed, you admitted you had the jitters
Laughingly we both had learned
Intimacy shared is intimacy earned
Treasuring our love, our life unknown
You and I, together we’ve grown.

My Promise

Truth can be hurtful
Aw! I know it's spiteful!
Insensitive even
But I don't know to speak otherwise
Never learned to, probably never will.
So here is my promise;
To upset you with the truth
Since you are wise, I believe
You will understand
Change maybe!
And I will be sorry later
Not for telling it
Only for breaking you
With its insensitivity
But generally grateful
For my honesty

My Pal Ms Poetry

Rising from the mightiness of my mind's eye,
Diving through the everglade of my endless thoughts,
Dancing to the tunes of my triumph stories,
She came, My love!, to be by my side.

To pull me out of the misery of this chaotic world,
To sing a lullaby amidst the roars of selfish souls,
To liberate me from the loud moans of insensitivity,
She came, My love! , to give me serenity.

She came, My darling! she came into my lonely world
She spoke, my darling! She spoke the words of love.

She hosted my success parties
She eclipsed my debacles
She gulped the rancour of my loneliness
She spread the light of courage in the darkest hour of menace

She came, My darling! She came to wipe my tears
She sang, My darling! She sang the melody of morning dew.
Meet her, My darling! Greet her in this creamy dream
She is my companion in life's amazing stream.

I Am Sorry, To Pat, of Edmonton, N 18 and Tottenham Technical College, N 17, London, Circa 1961

To me there is not justice in this world,
and no God awaiting us either.
So who, therefore, could freely harm an innocent soul,
and then each night sleep in peace for ever after?

For though many things that a man has done,
may well lie dormant through the passing years,
as if safe in a long-forgotten silence,
on some calm morning,
say in magic Spring,
with Nature beautiful and moving,
memories of scars on others that he made,
they will suddenly weep and break open,
sending shivers running down the spine
to haunt and torment with knowing.

And oh thus would that I,
from my cradle to my grave,
tried so not to have left on a person,
as in my goodbye to Pat,
the cuts of human pain,
and the hurt of my thoughtless actions,
when in truth I was crying out for the love she offered me,
even in the moment I last saw her.

Because your heart may never, ever, be given a chance again,
to express your regret to them and your deep sorrow.

Unctuous Byproduct

Grease the binary palms ...
singular greed motive,
zero moral qualms

Paper cancer in the brain — 
MRI diagnosis
(make riches increase)
reveals a tumorous mental condition:
Malignant Reptilian Imaging

Scaly thoughts
of poor widow inheritance devouring
Integrity bought ... 
bottom feeders bank account scouring

Saliva secretions are amphibian amoral alien;
acidic lust spittle salivating,
queen Borg demands be ere evergreen pagan

Moss-colored bile offering 
is an unctuous byproduct of ink greed
Slimy covetous proclamations
strip the pockets of those most in need
Bottom line projections
show gluttus in reel time parasitic feed
Darth Vader holographics
is a leech reality of virtual insensitivity

Waste landfill spill on a moral bleed ...
unctuous byproduct
yields a gutter harvest of dirty deeds

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• Long Insensitivity Poems
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