Angst P Poems | Examples
These Angst P poems are examples of P poems about Angst. These are the best examples of P Angst poems written by international poets.
[Perhaps this is apart of my twisted delusions? Oh, mundane, antithetical, to dream of a median--a deranged, psychotic thought.]
[“I ponder the chains of order; perpetually asphyxiating a ‘disobedience’. Why, why we need of persecuting the good?”]
[Malice subsumes those who yet to temper, and sorrow enshrouds those refined. Crux, crux, I call to, whom ignore my solemn cries.]
[“A fate of malevolence albeit conduct--oh, love, abhor, equity seldom be attained.“]
[Is it merely viable?]
[“Or am I just simply insensate?”]
[Ah, break me free of the binding chains-- one of rectitude, the other loathe, as if there’s no point in between.]
[“Told of finding peace, tempted to defile, disequilibrium.”]
[Why serenity remain beyond touch?]
[“Is it plausible to grasp?”]
A fate of dystopia.
What's with this nudging-
this perpetual nudging
from deep within,
urging me to write a poem?
A poem of feelings,
of rhythm and imagery.
And I am willing-
Grasping for words,
phrases, perhaps
something in iambic pentameter.
But I am so spaced out.
I swivel my eyes-
back to front,
peering into the folds of my
spaced-out mind.
My impenetrable gaze
sifts through gray matter,
where arteries pulse
with bright scarlet oxygenated blood,
where veins run deep purple,
flushed, delicate pink.
It is quite extraordinary.
I could write of colors,
I could paint with words-
but there is nothing there.
No angst in me,
nothing provoking,
nothing bothersome,
boiling, nor bubbling.
Just the nudging,
this perpetual nudging.
Hello kids it me again back to share my own lifes gleanings.Been sick as a
Sick dog.I am mourning,heartbroken and dealing with one assault on the body after another .This weeks guest Norwalk virus.You aint lived till you have embraced this near death experience.No exageration.Stomach cramps so severe unable to stand homoerectus.Thought I had threw my midback out during one attempted 8 second ride of gastronomic convulsions.Linda Blair had nothing on my performance.Dry heaves so bad I feared turning inside out like an item prepared for the wash as my mind toyed with the idea of just passing out.Fought this as aspiration not on my to do list.
Diaphram still sore to the touch and inching my way into real food.News flash if any have or know of anybody suffering in similar fashion tell them no dairy for at least two weeks as the receptors to handle it last to come back on line in the gut.And how have you been ?
We can't be the same me and you?
You think of how long before you die
I think, how long before I kill myself?
You would reckon it is an intresting bet
Count me in I got 100 on the next day
What would we do without our friendships
It'd sure be a lonely existence
Life would have no meaning, no purpose
No one to brag to for instance
To brag about all our many successes
To talk to when things go wrong
A shoulder to cry on every once in a while
We don't always sing happy songs
It's really quite normal and actually healthy
These feelings of angst and despair
It wouldn't be normal if it was always upbeat
So it's good to be able to share
Why do we need these really close friends
Kind of obvious wouldn't you think
No one's a solitary ship on the ocean
Need friends to help in a wink
That's why this site is so important to me
The friendships I've made through the years
So hard to replace, this unique li'l group
My P-Soup friends are so very dear
Gray matter mind fields
credible cerebral taunts
disfigured designs
Words spreading across the page,
limitless in their power, yet completely
reliant on achieving one goal.
In failing, they seep into the paper
lost as more words steal the limelight,
shattered aspirations crack as they are trampled.
Dedication. Followed by forlorn drooping characters.
Did you ever know delighted letters could feel so mournful?
Who knew painting wilted whispers could dash the world
into so many pieces, darken the mind's playground?
Defenseless phrases left to rot in the molded closet
covered in dust. Blackness creeping over the ink.
Overpowered by the still air.
Being a writer is a curse.
Being a poet is a death sentence.
There is never enough words to fill the fountain,
even if the stack reaches the mold.
w.b.y.t.m.p.a.a.t.d.o.o.m.r. (and to make the music lower)
When the universe orders me to
when a demon demands what I do
when a warning siren is a sign of “why?”
when I hear that tomorrow there will be no sky
when the universe spews lava aflame
when the universe is the one to blame
when the ocean is thrown into our face
or when the universe robs you of your grace
when a demon arrives spitting fire
when a demon deems the ever lasting quiet of a choir
when a deem decides I am to be no more
or when a demon makes me sadder than ever before
the universe and a demon are two mighty foes
when the sky is no more and no more the blue
these are the things only me and my Lord knows
we know these are all the things it would take to make
me stop loving you
© 2012....copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
w.b.y.t.m.p.a.a.t.d.o.o.m.r. (and I SHOULD make the music lower)
When the universe orders me to
when a demon demands what I do
when a warning siren is a sign of “why?”
when I hear that tomorrow there will be no sky
when the universe spews lava aflame
when the universe is the one to blame
when the ocean is thrown into our face
or when the universe robs you of your grace
when a demon arrives spitting fire
when a demon deems the ever lasting quiet of a choir
when a deem decides I am to be no more
or when a demon makes me sadder than ever before
the universe and a demon are two mighty foes
when the sky is no more and no more the blue
these are the things only me and my Lord knows
we know these are the things it would take to make
me stop loving you
© 2012....copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
Plant Not your seeds in Poor
soil. Heinous and Quagmire
loves society. Yet,
you seclude yourselves from
your very own seed that
you have planted. But, Why?!
Non compos mentis
at the time?!... Were you
Callous?!... Or maybe
Myopic?!... Even
society that
claims to be so
Erudite has
no rejoinder.
Complicity
lurks within
the poor soil.
Be Chary
when you
Make your
S-E-E-D-S!
Pace, G.
INK-U-SCRIPT
06-15-2012
SPECIAL SPIRITS
I locked myself in a library one night
No one knew and there was no one in sight
I spoke to the spirits of so many still there
Frost read me a “Road Less traveled” as I unraveled a maze
So many concepts, so many thoughts, so much beauty
I felt as if protecting those venerable volumes was my duty
No one would rape, mutilate or change a page because I was there
As Poe’s poems smothered me in frosted fear
Baudelaire betrothed me to Breckinridge
And I was captivated and captured by Coleridge
I gazed all around and imagined how many words I was surrounded by
And that Dickenson or Dickens never had to cry
I locked myself in the library to sleep around poems
And realized how many people have lost their homes
I locked myself in the library to sleep around genius profound
And that made me ruminate on to where this planet is bound?
© 2011.….Phreepoetree ~~free cee!~
THE OBAMAS AND THE PAPAS
In this case I ain’t no liar
I know of whence I speak
Allow your children to walk into a fire
And all of you will be left spent and weak
Little Johnnie’s girlfriend had her some weed
And Johnnie wanted into her tight blue jeans
So although he knew it was a low down deed
When it comes to sex AND a teen drugs AIN’T a hill of beans
Yeah, so dig this all you phoolish papas and mamas
Don’t hide the truth and hope for the best
And I say that without any semi-colons or commas
With my own habit and sins TO WHICH I’ve confessed
So two years from today when Johnny stumbles in and asks for some sort of food
Remind him of all the time you’ve watched his habit grow
And if you really want to put Johnnie in a very vile mood
Just remind him that he had a chance to say “no’ © 2011.…Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
DEAR MR. J.D.S. R.I.P.
I am a reckless recluse
But I have an excuse
Society is un-sanctimonious
When I only want to hear the harmonious
I am hiding away
Awaiting a day
When people pledge peace
And nationalism will finally cease
I won’t let people find me
Not even if they’re behind me
Because I’d rather live alone
Than to live in a world I bemoan
Don’t look or search for me anywhere
Please beg do I not ever to dare
From your society I care not to be exempt
Because I am a recluse content with contempt
© 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
Hey q.t. thanks for the “nationalism”
TODAY IS HEADED EAST AND TOMORROW IS HEADED WEST
Yesterday they said you headed east
Today they say it’s the west
Well baby, I’m sure going to miss you
Because you were sweet it must be confessed
Today they said you were leaving tomorrow
Until tomorrow turned into today
One sun, one moon and a billion gallant stars
But that won’t make up for the cute little things you’d say
Well today has turned into tomorrow and still no word from you
It simply intrigues me why a girl like you could walk away from it all
I’m incredibly good looking with more money than you could ever conceive of
And I heard you said something to someone like, “Oh how the mighty will fall”
Well here I am still standing in the middle of the ring
Waiting to let you take your best shot
Oh, and by the way babe, compared to my roster of chicks like you
Baby, you ain’t even a tepid type hot
© 2011.….Phreepoetree
Nobodys home so dont knock apon the
door.
No need to empty the trash or sweep
the floor.
To many bottles of booze mixed with
pills.
Notes left apon the wall.
Stained souls as the blood
spills.
Pictures far from center.
Trophies from the road.
Bones collect were memories
splinter.
A long term vacation guess there's no
need to sign a lease.
May dust greet my bones.
Until I rest in peace.
The mask is but a facade.
Cracks in that perfect image.
All true art is flawed.
They know the person who is
not me.
Time traps the mind.
As love brings only agony.
Failure cast's doubt as old truthes
give way to new lies.
As the sunset bids farewell.
With it the story dies.
A fraction of myself I have yet
to release.
The pain is now transferred to
another.
Reflection to late so may it rest in
peace.