April 1st

I'll chase back all the backlog for all the content I didn't deliver eventually for the year. That means about 12 more posts I guess. Anyways, here's one that came to mind quite recently. I wouldn't say it's any good at all but I do have to keep writing to keep in somewhat practice.

Stagnant

The days pass akin to a steady stream,
The light of day, the dark of night,
Holding on to things long past in dreams,
Lost the will to remember the days plight.

Once upon a time, there was a strong passion,
Now left with but a sense of apathy,
Plagued by a self-image of constant derision,
Yet unable to fight a sense of lethargy.

Feeling as if a candle burnt out too soon,
And plagued by a fear of failure I hoped that would never come,
Turned me into a man stuck in my cocoon,
Never realizing that what's not grasped will be gone.

At heart knowing the things done wrong,
Pride pushing away all good intent,
I hope one day this will be but a thing far gone,
Or else forever will I stay, stagnant.

Week 3

Post for week 3 of January. Trying to keep my weekly thing going. I hope you somewhat enjoy.





Buried in blissful excess,
Living in hedonism unsuprassed,
We glorify ignorance in the masses,
As we live without care of actions past.

Driven by want and forgetting need,
Pretending to be saints, but living in greed,
Always living with endless motivation,
Doomed to never find satisfaction.

Poisoned by what we see,
Never realized, we are just lost at sea,
Always wanting what the world wants,
The you inside just left to haunt.

Week 2

Just an attempt at writing, prompted by the word senectitude, which translates into old age. I don't think it's any good, but I want to have it out here as to commit to writing and tracking the changes in my writing if there is any improvement.

If you read, do tell me what you think.

Week 2 Attempt.

As I live apathetically into senectitude,
A part of an inane hive, typically in solitude,
The days pass, almost imperceptibly,
Just like grass, suddenly already hitting maturity.

The old adage of old is gold, echoes hollow in today's society,
Thinking we are chasing prosperity, finding ourselves in austerity,
Treating life as though it is an endless kindle,
Not realizing it is merely akin to a candle.

Many amongst us lie and claim our lives fulfilling,
But honestly if we were to die, would we say we live fulfilled,
Trapped in the pursuit of mindless pleasure,
Often never seeing life's true treasures.

As I write aimlessly about my observations as I go into senectitude,
I try my best to thrive, I try my best to realign my attitude,
To change what would pass, through living optimistically,
But alas, this intention might pass into obscurity.