Web of Loneliness Poems

Poems of the Lonely


In this place of desolation a lonely rampart stands forged between a mountain and a machine, my heart is the castle and my mind is the sea, I am no captain, I sail no ships, I am no king, I command no armies, though the throne that stands before me bears my name, if I sit I shall crumble, a phrase etched into the glass of the cathedral, I am.

A sea of infinite wisdom floods the halls of my stronghold, corridors fill with memories and a crown begins to mold, I am no king, I do not dare to pick up the crown for when it rests upon the head, the shoulders decay and soul dies instead, etched in the walls of the keep, I am.

The courtyard breathes of the scent of putrid waste left behind by the scars of tomorrow, a fissure in time allowing flow between the here-and-now and what follows, I am no captain, I cannot set a course of action, a lighthouse in the dark beckons me out of the weather, the storms of my past keep me tethered, carved into the waves, I am.

If I am no king and I am no captain, then what am I? A wanderer in darkness is holding a lamp to light the way, a silent watcher feeling more alone everyday, but in the sea of demons, and the castle of hate, I stand proud of a phrase etched in the walls, and carved in the waves, “I am”.

We never walk this road alone, and for those who wish they could just go home, a castle awaits in a sea of desolation, like a lonely wall forged between the mind and the heart, I am an oasis in the desert so barren, I am rampart.

– Matthew B.

A Hurt Heart

Bills bills bills…
that I cannot pay.
I have no car,
and my heart hurts all day.
a heartache so strong.
a love long gone…
my tears stream like rain-
and my heart hurts all day.
my dear best friend-
my dear lost love.
as I cry to the above.
Bills bills bills…
that I cannot pay.
I have no car,
and my heart hurts all day.

Untitled by Ary

Failure is not fatal.
Hell if I knew;
It’s like cutting open a tortilla pack,
slipping with the knife on the final hurdle,
and then learning that the tortillas were mouldy…
and then your new lover learning that you eat plain tortillas on their own.
It’s another level of disappointment.
Sure, it’s not fatal, but, oh God, the pain.
The pain.
It’s brutal, malevolent and leaves a red-alert, not-so-paper trail.
Withdrawing from the whole thing takes a lot, because in my situation, you would’ve just started a healthy diet,
leaving that gaping abyss some place between your lungs, like a sink-hole,
you don’t even know where you’re putting it.
You would’ve texted the girl you like, saying something embarrassing.
You would’ve left your last lifeline behind, like a bad episode of ‘Who Wants to be a Millionaire?’,
and now you’re left with nothing, stubbornly exclaiming how you’ve won, you’ve beat the system,
you had damn good reason and feeling truly alone.
You’ll hate your life,
have a damn painful finger,
and scared you’re gonna live your whole life alone, full of regret.
I hate this feeling. It’s like being cheated on by God himself.
You haven’t a single friend in the world and you’re pretending that it’s all fine,
but the abyss doesn’t even want to make eye contact anymore:
he’s picked up his fucking phone.

One day, you have to decide to just fuck it.
I only know how to reverse in stick-shift, so I guess I’m going forward.
I’m not afraid… maybe a little. I’m about to hit a junction. Big one, too.
Biting point, anxiety, blah blah. Just push the pedal, slam down the accelerator,
because, as a wise man once said, ‘gotta go fast’.
Another one also said:
“Failure is not fatal, but failure to change might be.”

Cenel’s Island

there’s a pretty twist in my bed
humming implements of incredible sex.
it’s the one that sends the waves to drown dancing tongues
to serenade the song of chemistry we composed.
and it kills the negative things.
it can kill anything, but not this wonderful being.
i stare at demise
tender and blind
experiencing life in the abstracts of your kind.
kicking death and trying to remember you’re under my wing.

so what’s behind this new face with dim eyes?
it’s beautiful.
I’ve arrived at an island for a ghost.
does the stimulation make your floral float
and eliminate the emptiness you felt once I shook your ship?
does it make your carrier swing?
can it make the aquarious sing?
I’m gonna try to taste it…

Sweet Words

May the sweetness of my words
Bring healing to your soul
May everything I do and say
Bless and make you whole

May the flowing of my words
Enrich your heart and mind
May everything I do and say
Be gentle loving and kind

May the power of my words
Bring rich and lasting treasure
May everything I do and say
Be yours in abundant measure

May the spirit of my words
Bring hope to have and hold
May everything I do and say
Bring healings that enfold

So if you hear my words today
If you are sad and blue
Know for sure this little poem
Is from my heart to you
by Carmelia WOL


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