Short Uninterested Poems

She inherited the old farm house
why in the world was it her?
She’d never liked those people
Uninterested parents
had other favorites
never liked her
surprising
crazy
will...

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Precious paranoia persists
My mind is anxious
To die at this point in time
I have seven kills
While you own none
Yet my run from you is rampant
Though you’re up in your room
Uninterested...

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Morbidly curious?
Not really.
Want to see?
No.

But it is a black curtain.
It might be the Wizard of Oz
or a plain man
pretending to be one.

I yawn.
Uninterested
Walk away.
He follows me.

Why do you not want to see?
I have no idea
I just don’t...

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Our words today are disjointed, banal, bland, maybe nonexistent.
No emotions attached, for words are not even peeking out of crevices.
My muse is apathetic, emotionless, uninterested, uncommunicable.
I sense a nonproductive day, or at least a nonproductive hour or two.
Nothing is written, and I feel okay about it....

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Withhold your words
You speak so accordingly
And to disappointment's mockery
You ran so sparingly
Into the brick wall you've stopped
To cause violence in my hands
Uninterested you seemed to care
But only to your content
You never stopped to share
At my side of the view
Now you avoid the poem
You once wrote but never read...

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Times of Unrest
6/7/2020

While some protesters are sincere others are violent.
Many are content to trace along as a face in the crowd,
snapping selfies to document for the uninterested,
that they had indeed “been there, done that”.
Proving that their bit part of something,
was better than a leading role- of nothing.
Tom
...

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the inmate won’t eat
because s/he is done
with life & uninterested
in continuing to live in a
world that has condemned
them to imprisonment
&
the warden threatens to
force-feed her/him 
because the warden
says he works for the
state that “represents
the people” 
&
it is they who have the
right to decide when
this wo/man dies & not
that individual
themselves....

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Your so pretentious,
The repetition is endless-
And the conversation relentless;
Though my restraint is tremendous.

Trying to keep cool and collected-
But even I, will be affected.

I'm sick and tired of being falsely 
corrected;
I'm uninterested, in the fact that you feel 
offended,
Unprecedented-
Consider this the new me; reinvented.

-Carly Larkin...

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Every step
we learn.
Every step
we discover.
The things we never knew,
thought we would never know,
there it is !
Because we searched.
in amazement in front of us
was hidden all this time,
hidden only from those
uninterested.
But those among us
wanted
before we depart,
one more thing we learned,
one more step - we are
wiser. older.

(April 02, 2020)...

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It’s forceful this feeling
And I’m forcing myself
To force myself
To hold on	
Because I know it will be worth it
It is worth it
Now
Though it seems futile
I’m uninterested and unresponsive
To your adoration and affection
Let’s rebuild this bridge
It starts with you
And ends with me
And in the middle, we will meet again
Unfazed and unhurt   
By my incapacity to care...

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Loaded mind
with caotic thoughts
there is no 'satis'
like an overloaded bus
packed
like a little nest
crowded with birds 
big birds
noisy
uninterested sound
uncomforting zone
windy
cold
heat-hot like a burning gold
no rest
unfree
tranquility's absence
quest for peace
lack of bliss
like disturbed bees
up and down
hopeless time
internal crime.

Drencho POET Loads...

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You there, on the wrong side of the road gathering
     particles of burst bubbles
Me here, a sizeable dent in my cruise
     going the wrong way on a one-way
Inattention, looking beyond and backwards
     unaware and uninterested, sleepwalking

Until a voice unheard before . . . . .

Between the eyes particles burst
     bubbles float on a whim
Axis rights itself and
     goes the right way on the one-way...

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Rue du Petit-Champlain 
Street where she could fall in love.
She sat waiting 
But it did not happen
The first time

The second time she brought a book
Lots of attention was given to her
Because she acted uninterested
She met a man
And he was wonderful

Rue du Petit-Champlain
The place where it all started
They brought their four children
Who giggled and danced their way 
Down the place where it all began....

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I have seen him, he exists,
the omnipotent, omnipresent.
In the silent cry of a mother
while her child starves to death,
in the ghastly tremor of a brother
while his brother cuts his head,
in the form of dreadful spirit 
which burns humans alive,
in the gloomy eyes of a farmer
who reluctantly takes his life.
In the graveyard of surging hopes,
lie remains of rotten humanity.
And uninterested, unconcerned
the supreme being with his vanity....

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Feverishly sipping thoughts more than coffee
lingering in the less sweeter days of autumn's hue
uninterested in seeing any beauty in its waking moments

stirring like the leaves as they are stripped from trees
endlessly wishing for the warmth the sun brings
as i shiver through the layers of my tired soul
stripped of emotions, left colorless i trudge
onward through this day like a lifeless shell
not caring for anything more then the fake smile i wear...

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