Short Inadequacies Poems

Accuse me
of your own
inadequacies 

Judge me
of your own 
transgressions 

Condemn me
in your outrage
hypocrites...

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silence says so much
oblivious to all else
beauty stands alone

eyes capture meaning
words hold inadequacies
nothing need be said...



(April 27, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)

(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved...

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Shame,
a shroud,
has fabric
woven from the
dark, anguished threads of
self-recriminations
and of inadequacies.
Caught in its twist, the frail weave on,
constraining themselves in self-loathing.
Unravel fibers of despair. . . Unveil!


For Skat's Any Old Poem #7 Poetry Contest...

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In line with crucial curiosity 
 of randomly cohesive insight,
  light integrally depleted
      paradoxically speaking, 
pilfering darkly versed
     memories' surrender,
  captured betwixt poetically 
     incorrect volatility of  
          inadequacies' raptus &
             catastrophic revelations...

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Idle threats as the cold wind blows
The lonely rope hanging in the barn
Calling and beckoning me
Whispering echoing nagging 
inadequacies  
And winter holds me in 
her icy grip
I lurk around eating any chemical
to give me some semblance of escape
My temporary vacation always cut short
The holes in my pockets mimic 
the hole in my soul
And here I remain...

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Look out, beware!
Watch it, take care!
Don't enter that church, dumb bitches,
You'll end up right little bitches,
Depends if you get a dud,
Don't accept such crud,
It's not your accountability,
For so called men's inadequacies,
Make it his problem, not yours,
Weddings can lead to divorce,
So don't go in that church, dumb bitches!
You'll end up right little witches!...

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NOT   AS    IT    SEEMS

Human nature is not what it seems 
Real life is different to dreams  
Ideal people do not exist
Temptation is too hard to resist.
Human weaknesses,   inadequacies  
-  And all of my frailities  -
Are listed without end
In  Bible and   Koran,  
In  Bhagavad Gita  and  Analects  -
I am imperfect.
Weakness is not just in  man or woman
My main frailty is that I am human....

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Rhonda
Wife, Friend, Mother, Spirit
Daughter of John and Joanne
Lover of Christmas morning, the wise voices of my elders, and rock-n-roll
Who feels joy in family, empathy for those who suffer, and love in prayer
Who fears public speaking, my own inadequacies and seeing my son in pain
Who would like to see a peaceful world, my grandchildren, the Lord's face
Resident of Fort Lauderdale, Florida
(Johnson) Saunders...

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Two halves of imperfection--
kaleidoscope emotions and traits
fractured and tumbled as
sea glass on the shore--
amalgamated into symmetry
by the Master’s hands 
with the pulchritude of stained glass.
A perfection of cohesiveness 
despite the flawed edges, cracks,
and inelegance of life.
The cohesive nexus of family,
sustained through inadequacies, and deficiencies,
avowed by the broken that fit
according to His plan
in a splendor of imperfect completeness....

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I feel the darkness rolling in...
like an old friend who knows all my failures,secrets...
all my pain.
My heart races
this friend never knocks...
this friend speaks to me in whispers
reminding me
of all my inadequacies.
I cut I bleed...
the pain helps the pain
for a moment...
is it a punishment
is it a protest
for what should have been...
what should have never been
the tears won't come
there is no cleansing
only darkness
I am drowning
soon i will be lost again....

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My heart is heavy from the waiting.
Lonely from sitting in silence
with nothing but my own inadequacies
to balm the wounds time festers.

Patiently abiding the time of recognition
when fate bows down and bestows a grace
sacrificing these tribulations for the mercy of love,
I wait for the coming of salvation
the benediction of true loves embrace.

The tides are rising-
and the binding on my soul is strong
am I to die a martyr?
With imminent despair I implore
come home and untie me......

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My missing muse is experiencing self-imposed blues.

She's probably under some yonder weeping willow tree ....
                          making friends, again, with my inadequacies.

My cognitive skills often ruffle-stuff her confused.

She knows my regrets that sorry is all I have except waiting ....
                        praying to grow us both through.


Muse, it's best we jest and laugh.
That's it, that's all I have,
still, please come back.


...

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