Posts
Ok,
I pay the man
With silver pieces stolen from a broken shark ride
Gathering dust and leaves outside an abandoned supermarket
How much is happiness worth?
How terrified of sadness are we?
The depth of willingness to avoid things will lead us to some strangeness
All for the hope of joy
I had a family once
I was rounded well they would call it
You never feel the bottom till it has fallen
I can only stall so much before the eagle swoops in
Looking back on all my life it is hard to see a clear line
Between the things that were good for me and mine
And the point that I gave into sin
Welcome
Hello, and welcome to my daily poetry blog. The following poems are improvised based on my day, general reflections, or by just allowing my mind to cruise in neutral without a filter. I have been working on this for something around two years now and have amassed a lot of words. You can either go through them page by page, or check out the "Hall of Better Poems" option in the right column. Please feel free to comment on what you like or dislike, and also subscribe below if you like this sort of thing. Thanks!
- Patrick Lyndaker
(typically I will write down my ideas on paper throughout the day and I may not get in front of a computer to transfer it. So I then dump a few days worth of poems at once.)
Tuesday, February 7, 2017
Adjustment
There is only so much you can put in this.
Only so much you can do,
And hope to change.
In whose eyes are you seeking hope?
From whom do you seek grace?
This road is something sinister.
The slope does not diminish.
I see your outcome taints your view.
How will you spread this clouded state?
Only so much you can do,
And hope to change.
In whose eyes are you seeking hope?
From whom do you seek grace?
This road is something sinister.
The slope does not diminish.
I see your outcome taints your view.
How will you spread this clouded state?
Monday, February 6, 2017
The Stain
This comet passed with surprising speed
Something that rings of acuity
It's slinking rapture piled itself atop me
My world now drowned in it's light
Nothing we meer mortals could hope to achieve
Will ever stand close to the shattering power hidden in these wastes
Lurking under this tumult
I proved myself to something that was just as surprised as I
The only choice that is left before me
Is to wring my hands
Clean myself of this passing iniquity
Something that rings of acuity
It's slinking rapture piled itself atop me
My world now drowned in it's light
Nothing we meer mortals could hope to achieve
Will ever stand close to the shattering power hidden in these wastes
Lurking under this tumult
I proved myself to something that was just as surprised as I
The only choice that is left before me
Is to wring my hands
Clean myself of this passing iniquity
Friday, February 3, 2017
No Regerts
I sit
and stew
Amid the cloud
I just newly created
while it drifts thru the room.
My only choice is patiently waiting.
I made the choice to bring the thought to fruition,
and it is up to me to shoulder the burden of this new responsibility.
and stew
Amid the cloud
I just newly created
while it drifts thru the room.
My only choice is patiently waiting.
I made the choice to bring the thought to fruition,
and it is up to me to shoulder the burden of this new responsibility.
Thursday, February 2, 2017
Of Pigs And Dogs
I am guilty of a certain type of resentment.
Felt toward those from whom I am so different,
Yet mistakingly dealt with as if I were the same.
If looks were only so acutely telling,
This world would have a lot more things to blame.
I feel the shudders of angst toward the assumption,
Akin to welcome separation anxiety.
The eyes that I have trained myself to have however,
Force me separate from this group of characters.
Although outside my mind as I may perceive,
I can not change the perspective of the onlooker.
Peering through the lens of experience.
Influenced so artfully by those that I mistrust.
Surly with the time it takes to know yourself,
One could find the heart that appearance is,
At best,
Inaccurate.
Felt toward those from whom I am so different,
Yet mistakingly dealt with as if I were the same.
If looks were only so acutely telling,
This world would have a lot more things to blame.
I feel the shudders of angst toward the assumption,
Akin to welcome separation anxiety.
The eyes that I have trained myself to have however,
Force me separate from this group of characters.
Although outside my mind as I may perceive,
I can not change the perspective of the onlooker.
Peering through the lens of experience.
Influenced so artfully by those that I mistrust.
Surly with the time it takes to know yourself,
One could find the heart that appearance is,
At best,
Inaccurate.
Wednesday, February 1, 2017
A Message To Those With True Power
You can use your own discomfort,
As leverage on the spineless.
Bitter hearts are quick to find the evil in the world.
When a move is made to change,
They are the last to get behind it.
Complacency runs rampant.
Just one click to never mind it.
I guarantee the ones with eyes for this,
Are day and nightly grinding.
How far has come our empathy?
No longer shunned for merely crying.
So long as is approved the morality behind it.
If nothing is left sacred then no mind lies beyond prying.
Lonely stands the human epitaph:
"They died from lack of trying."
As leverage on the spineless.
Bitter hearts are quick to find the evil in the world.
When a move is made to change,
They are the last to get behind it.
Complacency runs rampant.
Just one click to never mind it.
I guarantee the ones with eyes for this,
Are day and nightly grinding.
How far has come our empathy?
No longer shunned for merely crying.
So long as is approved the morality behind it.
If nothing is left sacred then no mind lies beyond prying.
Lonely stands the human epitaph:
"They died from lack of trying."
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