I have a very good life, so I have nothing to complain about. Sometimes, I just have existential angst.
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There is no shorter path for joining a neutral existential anthropology, according to philosophy, with the existential decision before God, according to the Bible.
quote by Paul Ricoeur
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leave That To
I've never known what it's like real poverty
And I've always been lucky life is good to me
And since I've never known illness or physical pain
I am not one with the right to complain
Leave that to those who are doing it tough
The homeless and destitute who have to live rough
The forgotten people of Poverty Street
Who search in rubbish bins for thrown out food to eat
Leave that to the millions of Stateless refugees
Hungry and subject to every known disease
Life for them a constant survival fight
If they complain they have earned the right
I've lived for sixty one years in time a good span
And I cannot complain I am a lucky man.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Pretty Good
I got a friend in fremont, he sells used cars, ya know.
Well, he calls me up twice a year
Just ask me howd it go
Pretty good, not bad, I cant complain
Actually everything is just about the same
I met a girl from venus, and her insides were lined in gold
Well, she did what she did said how was it, kid?
She was politely told
Pretty good, not bad, I cant complain
But actually everything is just about the same.
Moonlight makes me dizzy
Sunlight makes me clean
Your light is the sweetest thing
That this boy has ever seen.
Molly went to arkansas, she got raped by dobbins dog
Well, she was doing good till she went in the woods
And got pinned up against a log
Pretty good, not bad, she cant complain
Cause actually all them dogs is just about the same
Moonlight makes me dizzy
Sunlight makes me clean
Your light is the sweetest thing
That this boy has ever seen.
Instrumental:
I heard allah and buddha were singing at the saviors feast
And up the sky and arabian rabbi
Fed quaker oats to a priest.
Pretty good, not bad, they cant complain
Cause actually all them gods is just about the same
Pretty good, not bad, I cant complain
Cause actually everything is just about the same
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memory Loss
Indeed we live in troubled times
Our days filled with angst n’ worry
Good folk committing petty crimes
Blindly going nowhere in a hurry
Some complain of “Memory loss”
Whilst caught up in hurtful foment
Their days lived in utter chaos
Forsaken; “Living in the moment”
When events speed up slow down!
Deliberate; then proceed
‘Lest you quickly sink n’ drown
For it’s your loss when lifetime tallied
Life is best when you’re the boss,
And there’s no need for memory loss
(ROTMS)
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Miserabilism
It seems to me
there's something serious beginning
A new approach found
to the meaning of life
Deny that happiness
is open as an option
and disappointment
disappears overnight
Say that love
is an impossible dream
Face the facts
that's what it's always been
Relax
What you see is what you see
and what you get
is a new philosophy
(That's what you got
That's what you get)
Miserablism
Is is and isn't isn't
Miserablism
Is is and isn't isn't
Meanwhile your life
is still directed as a drama
with realism
on the sparsest of sets
Every performance
tends to reach the same conclusion
No happy endings
but a message to depress
saying life
is an impossible scheme
That's the point
of this philosophy
Miserablism
Is is and isn't isn't
Miserablism
Is is and isn't isn't
But if 'is' wasn't
and 'isn't' were
you can't be sure
but you might find ecstasy
Oh, no!
Just for the sake of it
make sure you're always frowning
(Angst! Angst! Angst!)
It shows the world
that you've got substance and depth
You know life
is an impossible scheme
and love
an imperceptible dream
(That's what you got
That's what you get)
Miserablism
Is is and isn't isn't
Miserablism
Is is and isn't isn't
miserable
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Nice Conversation
last night a nice conversation
was made between two
people who claim
to be friends, they were talking
about pain and sorrow
and how they must
be resolved
solved and eradicated
like dirt and warts
existential angst
making her tipsy like she was drunk
of vodka mixed with champagne
she keeps on asking
why
why people get sad and sadder and
sadder still despite
a heavy meal
and a surrounding of friends that come
to her house on sundays
it is hard to understand life
and suddenly by impulse
one says: the key to understanding life
is art,
your art that conquers this pain
that mimics
its wiles and bites and pinch
come then, let us imitate it
and mimic it and mock it
life with art
let us see let us feel
let us dance let us sing
let us chant
let us have poetry
let us forget time
let us forget who hurts us
come let us not be ourselves
let us be someone else
and life shall now be deluded
there is no us, there is no ego now that we have smashed it
like fragile glasses shattered in the gutters
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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For Whom Do We Write?
for whom do we write?
for us, we beg the world
to know what we are in the realm
and bounds of our words
our sadness & madness
our longing for love
unrequited our desire to
taste what passion is
that which the bed cannot
speak that which the
blankets cannot fully give in
to warmth and
lust.
for whom do we write?
we write for those passions
those explosions of suppressed
feelings long kept inside the steel
boxes of our hearts
we write for those lamentations
of love rejected and those
dreams that simply die
even before they were born
for those eggs
that never became chickens.
forgive me, but i write
because i have nothing else to do
about my life
forgive me for exposing the
truths
about us, this existential angst
lost in the labyrinths
of the empty
shell.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Inner demons? Got none of them. I had teen angst for a while, but I think every teenager has the angst.
quote by Jamie Bell
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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We Complain
We complain
When in other countries people are in pain
We complain
And on the other side, conditions are inhumane
We complain
Many people want to ascertain
I don't eat cheese
While in other countries people die of disease
I don't want to clean my room
While many people starve just wanting food to consume
My mom just gave me 50 dollars and thats not enough
In different places people can't even pay for rent; life is tough
We complain
Many people, their life they can't sustain
Parents their kids they can't maintain
On Christmas people can't even buy a candy cane
People feeling like they're drowning in acid rain
And we complain
People out there who can't even afford to watch an ad campaign
People hiding on the streets because of shame
Because themselves are the ones to blame
Many things they detain
People out there who wish they were slain
People who wear the same clothes with the same little stain
People sleeping out in the rain
People who have given up and just start to cut their vein
When some people work and get their paycheck, they feel nothing they gain
Without insurance they gotta be careful because there's nothing they can sprain
Many people like in Africa have nothing to eat, not even a little grain...
And we complain
poem by Bianca Edwards
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Must I Complain, O God, I Pray?
When you made me by love thine,
And called me sweetly by my name,
And wrote it in your palm divine,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
When you chose me for job fine,
And gave me breath in special way,
And made me walk on earth, ravine,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
When you led me through hill, vale,
And desert, plain, seasons umptine,
And kept me safe through flood and hale,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
When you watched o'er me night, day,
And fed, clothed, sheltered me all life,
And held me by right hand en way,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
When you suffered, died on cross,
And resurrected on third day,
And wait for me with Father Boss,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
When you are Almighty God,
And love to see my soul back pure,
And fair in judgment, just in rod,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
Fondly dedicated to my dear elder sister,
Miss. Noeline Mary Clemencia BSc., B.T.,
On her birthday today
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-02-'12
poem by John Celes
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But I’m Just So Good At It
I don’t want to appear embarrassingly ungrateful,
but I’m just so good at it.
I don’t want to seem uninterested and bored,
but I’m just so good at it.
I don’t want to be ignorant and rude,
but I’m just so good at it.
I don’t want to be unhappy and miserable,
but I’m just so good at it.
I don’t wish to moan and complain,
but I’m just so good at it.
I don’t want to be bigheaded and loud,
but I’m just so good at it.
I don’t want to stab any one in the back,
but I’m just so good at it.
I don’t want to cheat and lie,
but I’m just so good at it.
I don’t want to die full of sorrow and regret,
but I’ll be so good at it.
poem by Orlando Belo
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The Virtue Of Self-reliance....
i wait for no one
and no one waits for me
copy: i am an island
i touch no one and no one touches me
does this sound like poetry at all?
does this sound like an existential angst of one who wants to hold on the hooks of words
fished out from the confused waters?
for one, i haven't heard the cries for help
there is only the sound of feet and hands flapping like the fins of a fish
as though
someone is short of breath
and about to die
i like this,
this way to the door of the music room
sitting on a bench
facing a piano
as i begin to press and let my fingers travel distances
each note
takes me to nowhere, relying only on the sound of its longing
no destination, no purpose
ah, like a cocoon hanging on a leaf
merely passing the time away
without the dream of a butterfly
inside its darkness
ah, everything blooms,
everything opens
let us see how can this happen to me
watch me as i too watch you
this must be life then, surprises all surprises
how can boredom be so real?
how can jejune be June?
what about the numerical ennui on the month of May?
listen, listen
drink the silence
savor this inner peace
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sweet Tasting Treats
Lovely, after traveling through the bumps of uncertainty
this morning, suffering through the existential question
why I cannot concentrate like a machine or master the
art of sleuthing until finding the correct version of every
source text expression, fighting doubt that life can have
meaning if one is a million brain cells too short on
lightning fast comprehension - yet
Has to seem industrious and accomplished - after all this
my existential problems were solved in one mighty sweep
of eucalyptus and menthol delight, popping the delectable
sweets in my mouth, immediately the certainty and calm
of the ages fill my being bringing my anxious mind to rest,
everything seems easy and no question can bother me
any more, thank you for sugar
It shortens my life, scientists say, making the shorter life
so much better and more enjoyable, thank you that I need
not eat boring veggies to bring me nearer the end; as for
my teeth – there are dentists and the toothpaste industry,
I am as happy as a lark as long as I can embark
on sweet tasting treats...
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Mortality
Whistlers warble the winds of Eden
The ideal where love rules the earth
I am the fallen bitter winter
Sullen trees with no leaves
Cold with frost, lost in strangeness
Swagger of pride amidst my pain
I hear the whistlers and fifes
Spring forests bright with color
Mountains clasping rainbows
I am jealous of your peace
Caverns inside deep with dark times
Everything seems to pass by tarnished
These happy placards so foreign
Swords of philistine art
Faulkner seems more real daily
Fading like a waning moon
No respite in the fleshy cisterns
William James wrestling with despair
Existential sorrow with arrows of angst
Mortality cries on the cross
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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With Angst And Cynical Rhetoric
Why are your commentaries,
So filled with angst and cynical rhetoric?
'I like the way you put that!
If my concerns were printed,
To exclude all delusions...
I would be considered socially unfit.
And with the use of censorship...
You would not be exposed to any of it.
That is why I have chosen,
To edit my own comments.
Ensuring my angst felt with cynical rhetoric,
Would leave you to read between the lines.
To find your own reason,
To mutilate and redefine...
A more intellectual way to express your anger.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The next sunshine.
Sunshine.
I had found the key to live longer, and that is to live every step of this life very careful, because it can be your last.
I was thinking that whenever I got to heaven (if I go!) they going to be so jealous that I found happiness in my life, I mean I would not complain that my life was not good but I was not able to see a new sunshine on it.
Hey! They say that when it rain and pours we can’t see the beautiful sunshine of the morning light, welcoming us to a new day, I’m here saying good bye to you my good friend, so long and I wish that you can find peace at last.
So I know you and most of the people who I love will be waiting for me, so we all together can see the next sunshine.
R.I.P.
ALEX NAVA
APRIL 2008
FOREVER WE WILL MISS YOU.
poem by Christian K. Montiel
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I Don't Wanna Know No 'Mo
Yes, you're right.
I don't know.
And I don't wanna no 'mo!
Yes, you're right.
I don't know.
And I don't wanna no 'mo!
You complain,
Your life...
Is just not right.
All day.
And all night.
You say you need to change.
But the change you don't like!
All day.
And all night.
You toss and turn when your sleepin'
I hear you get up to weep.
You say the pressure cooks you.
And I'm the one at the feast.
I guess you're right.
I don't know.
And I don't wanna no 'mo!
Yes, you're right.
I don't know.
And I don't wanna no 'mo!
You are right!
I don't know.
And I don't wanna no 'mo!
You're right!
You are right.
You complain,
Your life...
Is just not right.
You say you need to change.
But the change you don't like!
You can not sleep.
You spend your time weepin'.
I guess you're right.
I don't know.
And I don't wanna no 'mo!
You are right!
I don't know.
And I don't wanna no 'mo!
You are right.
Good night.
Sleep tight.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Here's the thing about Apple, we complain and they give us more battery life. We complain and they'll give us more stuff. Everything's beta right now. Everything's experimental. They really don't know what people want.
My Trip To Auschwitz
I did not complain when my toes succumbed to numbness.
I did not complain when the bitter wind threw itself against me.
I did not complain when the thick mud ruined the flares of my jeans.
In comparison to the tragedy that has befallen here.
I have nothing of value to lose.
What is value?
What can I consider a true loss?
Nothing.
In comparison to the holocaust.
poem by Rachel Henley
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You give, You receive, the Law.
That is the real friendship,
You stay with it until the last pleasure trip,
If you have no more to give or receive,
Say good by friendship or even love, good by and leave.
This is life when we teach each other,
What one knows, gives freely as a starter,
However, when both stops giving and no more,
Comes the end of the friendship, no time left to adore.
Do not regret, don't be sorry, just say good by,
Or just disappear and don't ask why?
You'll be ready for new lessons to come,
Open your mind, go with the wind, accept whatever you became.
Don't be a complainer,
Be happy wherever you are, be a good camper,
That is real happiness in our life long road,
Never gripe, complain, hate or question the problem,
Just solve and unload.
poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
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