Web of Loneliness Poems

Poems of the Lonely

Tag Archives: suffering

Delores’ Sagacity

O heavy heart that aches with despair

Lost, despondent, and left to die

O the soul that concedes to the pain

Inside of me that yet abides

Where is the joy that this life was to bring?

Days I would escape memories of the forgotten?

Hope is gone and darkness to swallow me

 Like grass that blankets the earth

 Joy, a facade; a mask to hide the plights

Of unrelenting torment

Wondering in the dark

Nightmares transmute reality

Seasons unchanging

The hand that is bitterness

Hold only misery and sorrow

Wielding its sword to fell

Every instrument of suffering

But, alas weary

Fatally wounded

I am, undone

Delores Collins: This poem was written by me in Jan 2007.

My Falling Heart

My heart has been falling,

but no cares to save it.

My heart started falling when i am old enough to feel pain,

and understand what pain really is.

My heart fell from outer space,

then into the earth’s atmosphere,

but still no one cares to save it.

It is now in the earth’s crust suffering from

darkness, cuts and constant painfulness,

that people has created.

It is now in the earths core,

hoping that the heat can burn the pain away.

It boils my heart, but still the pain stays.

It will never be gone until someone saves it.

I am desperate for help, but no one cares.

My heart through all the years falling,

no one saved it.

Now regret but too bad you my heart is no more falling

It suffering.

I saw once in this movie that,

“Only LOVE can heal your heart”

I can only hope that someone is brave enough,

to go through the earths core and touch my heart,

and ease my pain away,

i am sick and tired of pretending,

but i just can’t be myself anymore.

I have been ruined

I want and need someone to heal me with love

just like how the stories go

just let me dream……….

Alicia Lee

 

Anxiety

The anxiety builds and I write it out, I write it out…  Words swim in my head and crush against the rocks of verbal limits.  Thoughts flow faster that words, they drown before I grasp them.  What is the origin of these thoughts, these words that won’t let me rest.  I want to reach out for another consciousness because I can’t stand being imprisoned in mine.  It’s like a room one has lived in their whole life, not much changes, more useless, scattered junk accumulated over the years.  I do some dusting from time to time but mostly I’m sick of the same four walls dressed with circulating questions, doubts, and ambivalent truths.  Someone else’s room always looks more enticing, because you only get to peek through the key hole, you can’t see their clutter, you can’t see they are just as suffocated as you are.

We live most of our lives on the periphery of consciousness, immersed in sensory awareness, pressing needs, trivial demands.  The mundane is depressing when not infused with the fullness of the moment.  Than again why would you want to be mindful while washing the dishes or taking a shit?  What divine meaning can one find in throwing out the trash?  Some are afraid of naked existence and seek comfort in uncomplicated deterministic truths; some carry the burden of meaning overload.

Could the world be so sensitive that when I gently touch a leaf today, someone will smile tomorrow?  What if everything is always “in intimate conversation with everything else”?  How would one live their life with the acuteness of that knowledge.

The physical plane feels so sluggish, so slow.  Continuous bliss is impossible in this plane of learning through suffering and loss.

I feel as if I can’t get attached to anything since it is never mine to keep, the eternal flux of life will sweep it away leaving me only with myself.  The true connection is only in essence, essence that we unfortunately cannot perceive.  What a cruel punishment to feel emotions in this suspiciously interconnected universe where nothing is static and everything is a reminder of how painfully separate we are by the function of consciousness.

How sad to float amidst, but alone.

I touch the body of another wondering it is only an earthly blanket for the soul, aware that I can’t imprison a soul, much like I can never lose a soul connection.  Yet still I somehow want to hold onto this other body and preserve the moment that I feel slipping through my fingers at the very allusive now.  To capture now.   To fully embrace something that passes faster that a blink of an eye, seems there is not enough time to descend into this vague thing called the moment, a shattered peace of the hologram of time and awareness.

Why learn everything that I can conceive knowing, why can’t I just flow through this experience like thoughts flow through my head, so swift and gentle… I can’t feel them.

This earthly form with all its physiological implications of feeling and thought, of addiction to certain feelings and thoughts makes the conception of spirit a nuisance.  If one could settle for the limitations of the body and mind without conceiving of some perfect energy form one is at the core, life would be much easier.  Perhaps less mystical.

The unwritten paragraph haunts me with its promise.  Does it know I’m not ready to fulfil it?

Please feel me

Please grasp me

Please see me through the maze of you own perception

How do I know you touch me

Not distorted

Make me valid

Let me see in your eyes

The truth of who I am

M. M.