Sometimes they do want to be seen by
someone who gives their heart a chance
But after the past pain some of them just
don't like to let anyone new come in
Even so they do still deeply care and
admire the others from a safe distance
While wishing them good luck on a
video game run and hoping that they win.
Disclaimer: Original comments were deleted due to this poem being misunderstood as a result of my typos and poor editing. Just be aware that this is about my perception of insecure people in online video gaming communities. While I prefer solo gaming because it's more fun for me (more freedom), I still think it's nice when gamers (not incels!) find genuine companionship in the midst of their shared hobbies because it increases their social confidence.
None of us are worthy of who we think we need to be, in that daunting moment
But all of us are capable of what we need to be, if we but rise to the occasion
When we first confront that rise which cowers inside us is when we rise to overcome
And, only when we overcome the temptation to hide behind that rising mountain of concern
Can we see beyond the crest of our uncertainty, and see ourselves on the other side
Safely or not, but having taken the side of what we can do, what we should do, and what will will do
"Some places are pitch black"
Deserted by other children
The darkened playroom confronts The Kid
"I must be supervised"
By which he means
Protected from the powers of darkness
The would-be supervisor
In turn is confronted
With tight tunnels and tiny staircases
And an accumulated coating
Of kiddy grime
Which doesn't bother the Kid.
He is unamused by pulling of scary faces
From within the labyrinth's cramped atrium
But instead requires illumination for his explorings
From a torch he has handy.
Disappointed that he must proceed alone
For reasons of size and stature
Exhorting "Try! Try!"
Yet he goes bravely forward.
Crawling through intestinal convolutions
Lit up as much as possible by the torchlight
Up into the high reaches of the system
Sliding finally down a long tube and out
Through a slippery exit passage
This is a prototype
Of a non-living carnivore
With which we can peacefully coexist
Relatively unscathed
Filled with trepidation
(not amalgam)
paid a visit to the nearest sadist
he who thrills
to the sound of drills
and not the first
on my Christmas list
(DDS Jack Flash)
as for him it's all gas gas gas
but with an aching tooth
(forsooth and alas)
what else was one to do
but turn the other cheek
in the hope I would pull through
and while seated there in the chair
(to extract a page from his book
Weapons of Mass Dentistry)
with WMD in my north and south
I repeated into thin air
'Dentists all look down in the mouth!'
Why can't I walk in the garden at night?
Horrible shadows keep blurring my sight ~
They make me run like a man with no balls.
Each time I trip and get bruised from my falls.
These shadows whisper cold fears in my ear,
Now I understand the songs sung by fear,
Yet I must confront these fiery shadows,
But each new night, fresh darkness runs the shows.
Though I'm a child and children fear the dark,
Since most darkness are silent, still, and stark.
That's why my shadows I must now confront.
The trepidation they bring, I must hunt.
Tonight is the night I'll set myself free,
From my whole life, fiery shadows must flee.
Yet I still fear walking in the garden,
But from these hauntings, I seek a pardon.
A whirlwind of emotions
A cyclone of wandering thoughts
A tempest of trepidation
That leaves me baffled and distraught
The devastation of my battling mind
Wreaks havoc in the soul's sacred shrine.
Amidst the bright light and the sumptuous summer sunshine,
Why does the beam gleam of the thin rays of darkness enwrap?
The sturdiness of our bones fails, as though we've lost our spine.
Our inner sanctum is erased from our location map.
Blood clotted, mouths unable to utter secrets, we pine
With hopes and hopelessness, like eggs in a single basket,
Fate and destiny, playing their roles as per their design
We store our unfulfilled desires like gems in a casket.
Tracing the trails of the 'if you can't beat them, join them' route
Like challengers and the challenged, we tread on trodden roads.
Have the bubble, we've been blowing, a permanent pursuit?
Pessimism, through each lane, like an atomic bomb, explodes.
The closed doors of impending expectant dooms be disclosed.
Feelings of friendliness even to the foes be enclosed.
Domination, fear based station,
intimidation, seeks trepidation.
agitation, heated conversation.
Ignore. Be patient.
Upon the earth we dwell what lies beneath our feet
It’s the lake of fire and its blistering hot heat
If you could look in the devil's eyes of desire
He would cast all of mankind in the fire
On a sinner's deathbed looking withered and frail
When one burns one will be bald, dead, bloated, and pale
Before then he would grip one's soul on one's passing bell
To drag a damned soul beneath the crusts of hell
It is so damn hot in hell to take a breath
That it can make the soul suffocate to death
That is the understatement so do not forget
That it is an eternity in hell you would always regret
Track: Vigil LIVE (Killadelphia) - Lamb of God
The ant is one who works all day
and barely sleeps at night
Seldom is he, if ever
fearful of an unjust or a losing fight
He lives to serve a queen
and she he seldom sees
but he is hers in mind and soul
to do with as she please
She dictates and rules to all her breed
with a simple yes or no
for she is the queen and her word is law
this we all know to be so.
But the queen behind her mask she sneers
at the knave of an ant and all his peers
who work all day and through the night
and fight the battle of a losing fight
and believe that because of her
what they do is right
Yes, we are all like ants one and all
constantly ignorant of our own minds' call.
The ant is one who works all day
and barely sleeps at night.
And seldom is he, if ever,
fearful of an unjust or a losing fight.
He lives to serve a queen
and she he never sees.
But he is hers in mind and soul
to do with as she please.
She dictates and rules to all her breed
with a simple yes or no.
For she is the queen and her word is law
this we all know to be so.
But the queen behind her mask she sneers
at the knave of an ant and all his peers.
who work all day and through the night
and fight the battle of a losing fight
and believe that because of her
what they do is right.
Yes, we are all ants,
one and all
constantly ignorant of our own minds call.
Copious tears flowed gently in the dire disaster
but we're not in brutal excess.
Doom occurs precisely in a proper time
when subtlety is humorless.
Fierce passion, o heart, gaily
decorates your soul brightness.
And we are inseparably united
in our wistful sadness.
However, my conscious mind is
precisely a vacuum-sealed recess.
Who merely performs reliably
exquisite poetry for the curiousness.
Querying anxiously, he has enflamed
the dear heart of eternal nothingness.
Feasibly my vital burning has been
quenched for untold sadness.
Written: October 14, 2021
Lurking around each corner
Waiting to blanket
Hopes
Dreams
Desires
Ready to squander
Love
Goals
Lust
Reckless and ruthless
Heed those days of yore
Always at hand
- Caroline Youngless
05/14/2021
We went to the darkest places to explore our fear, the alleys and the cemeteries where the trees were thickest and the light dwindled to nothing. We did not go alone walking on the cusp of bravery but led each other dare upon dare to breech each chasm. We knew the day and the places that lay in the periphery of our courage. But the night brought us fright served on trays of vulnerability, teasing us with magnifications of sound and dimness of vision, feeding and freeing the spark of imagination into flames of fear. Children have within themselves the greater fires of the dragons mouth and seeds of whispered voices with words of darker deeds. What lies within much worse than what is real. For all the evils ever wrought are children born from the same potential mother. The spark of imagination that creates both Gods and Devils. The place where we are awakened to answer the call of our own memorized voices. With borrowed courage we become the green of newer grasses, grown around empty bronze helmets long fallen to the ground.
The curse of an
inflated imagination.
An escarpment of thought
in a blistering mind.
An invasion of insolence
amidst a tempest-tossed
cacophony
of mewling memories.
A throat restricting,
heart galloping,
and eyes trembling.
A voiceless scream for help.
A crouching body
in cold defeat.
A quivering being,
gasping for an
exasperating breath.
Then, a ferociously seized breath -
transplanted
from an enchained soul,
gives birth to grave apathy.
A silent tear dissipates
into an endless ocean
of trepidation.
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