Our Own Worst Enemy (But a Strait-Jacket Doesn't Fit the World)

We all hate most interruptions, yet we're all happy wasting time with things like the internet. There is nothing wrong in being different but all these useless distractions are eroding individuality.

Short-sighted escape from one place to the same place,

Dissolving in and out of crowds; pulling clouds out of my eyes.

Living in the wrong place, the mind consumes and reshapes the universe.

Too much on our minds the heart lies; every window tells its own story.

Irritable lifetime of wanting;

Beauty is a cruel collage of all the things 

We wish to be instead of who we are.

Everyone wants whatever everyone else has;

People get in the way of other people.

Days drag yearning for another age,

Even though it would probably be just the same.

Distracted from ourselves

Life is a conspiracy of distractions, 

Mess is all we have and all we leave behind.

Endings are everywhere we go, we're just interruptions

Walking in and out of people like a ghost.

There's not enough time to exist,

Wherever we go the gentle are consumed by the weak.

Which is easier being faithful to yourself or to someone else?

Everyone aggravates everyone else; everything disappoints,

Everything depresses yet we dress ourselves up in smiles.

Born to fail; nullified by honesty there's no point in hoping,

Doomed honestly from the very moment we open our eyes.

Hibernating from the world the only true place to hide is in ourselves,

In truth there is nothing else I can do to get my life back.

People disappear all the time turning into bugs and pests,

Because that's all we ever really are. Drawn to light and trash,

Trapped and crushed by the world whether we speak up or not.

Negatives of rainbows; another day you cannot face.

Feet have to leave the ground to really touch the earth,

Bends in the river lead to another sleepless night.

Some things don't really become visible till they're out of view.

Made to feel not meant for this world, for being aware of the world.

You all just make me want to be somewhere else, where I can be different.

We're all selfish, love winds us up and life traps us. 

Resist being good cause being good gets you nowhere,

You can beat me at everything; but you can't win, I just defeat myself.

Nice guys forever finish last, you were nice in your own way

That's why you put a gun to the head of everyone who ever loved you back.

 Depressing:( 

Dec 6, 2011

• depressing poems
• Our Own Worst Enemy (But a Strait-Jacket Doesn't Fit the World)

Author's Note

Preview image: The Boy in a Blue Waistcoat, 1919; portrait by Amedeo Modigliani. And bottom image: Angel with the Key to the Bottomless Pit, 1498; engraving by Albrecht Dürer.

Reviews

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

the generation with the disposable mindset~ this is what crawls the craws of desensitized little tots with big eyelashes and little dreams~
tthough I must admit~if I'm true~ that some of these contusions are alas also my own blues~ especially that last . . . . oh what an ouch to see ones own debacle of nonemotions in the looking glass

Nice guys forever finish last, you were nice in your own way

That's why you put a gun to the head of everyone who ever loved you back.


sociopolitcometaphysicalphsychological threading through a fantastic poets fantastical brain~

[Andrew Wright]

I cringed every single stanza. This was powerful, and your message does not fall on deaf ears. I have to go ice my cheek now though. That was a mighty fine slap.

[freelancejouster]

i love the way you addressed this and the way it all flowed together. wonderfully done.

[writing mojo]

beauty in the eye of the beholder who blinks when the light is but a dream shuffling between the dark of being a shadow screamed, your observation of life death.. and the rest is poetic with nuggets of reality you lay to the plate slain, a sacrifice of ones self feasted on,, your anecdotal insight spoiling the treats in words rock and chipping in the mouth of madness...laughing... amazing stuff

[Kes]

Wow.
You're not alone in feeling this way.

Irritable lifetime of wanting;
Beauty is a cruel collage of all the things
We wish to be instead of who we are.

This is a brilliantly sad stanza. It's beautiful. It's true.
Life itself is depressing in that every living organism dies. It just cancels out. And we spend our lives in the worlds behind our eyes, because it hurts to comprehend the world outside. It hurts to think about our fragility and how temporary we are. So we don't spend our lives the way we should.
"Unfinished and young, or unhappy and old"

Sorry for the rant, but you got me thinking. And if a poem can get me thinking, it's a good poem. :)
Great write.

[Mary C]

nice to read...impressive

[Groovy]

Well said. Nice write.

[Calypso]

Oh wow. This is such a mixture of insanity and beauty. It shows the sadness people have, and how nothing can remedy true insanity (at least that's what I got from it).

[Seshat Nidaba]

This was like Rimbaud on speed preaching philosphy-psychology, quite creative indeed. I enjoyed the rag-time casual feel to it.