Coping with Ennui

Ennui means:
Listlessness and dissatisfaction arising from a lack of occupation or excitement.

How do you fight it? Or is it winning? Right now it's defeating me.

Here are your rules:

Two poems per poet
Four hundred word max
No bold
Oldies accepted
You have one week


AlwaysCaliban

I've some ideas, i'll be back for this one.

"Off the top of my head"

I stare at screens
Waiting for something to provoke
My attention
Keep it's hold

Look a video
Oh there's a poem
A story
Entertainment

A blank screen
The cursor's blinking
Time to write again
Time for thinking

Random words
Form structure
I hope
As least

Success
Boredom has lost
I have won
Like a boss

This is a recent poem of mine, and focuses more on the feeling on ennui rather than any useful information on turning the tidal waves again. Ennui is so much more than simply being bored; it is dissatisfaction of the soul, limpness of the spirit, and an all-penetrating cold to the body's will. Though so far Levi's poem is more useful than mine.


Elegy for a soul - It is dead to this world


I feel so empty but not dark
No thoughts of sex or rape or
or some other damn view-heavy tagline
Or drink or drugs
Or comment cabbages or rant-kings
Can heal me.
No dark desire or light talk
will remove these wings from my shoulders
And I'll grow no horns,
and march to no war
and smile nor cry no more
and be no human.
The Greeks most likely have a word for this
Though 'ennui' does not fill this void.
I have sailed the darkest seas of the soul
Tasted and tried each charred ember
to give only a cold reaction.
What sound shall my soul sing?
Only in music do I feel a soul
And when the music ends I fall down
Down to the depths of removal.
I look at the world,
Some semblance of despair flickers
the evil could be purged
the great made many
for the common cannot die,
the vacuous popular things filled
with resplendant meaning
and my words given ears to like them.
Oh.
For a soul.
For in my soul lies the world, one step at a time.

Days like these


These are the days
when wars are fought and lost
then fought and lost all over again
because the demons love days like these
they draw strength from the hopelessness of it all
when even the rain falling upon the ground
makes the same sound drop after drop
doesn't even dance a little bit
just hits the ground and dies

the days when people
might as well be annoying bugs
going about doing the same old chore
and even the forced interaction yields
nothing more than a fleeting distraction
from the thud thud of the time keeper
fixed to the kitchen wall

the days when the only real escape
could have you in some kind of institution
or hand washing blood from you're favorite top
because these are the days when giving a fuck
doesn't even get near enough time of the day
to stimulate the amount of energy needed
for remembering the name of that movie
you thought'd change days like these
   

Merely Existing
http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4rGLSClfQVM/UHghAQ2cBII/AAAAAAAAB8w/BkrJCScLxek/s1600/ennui-askerov-mid-1900s-azerbadjan.jpg

I am stuck between living
and merely existing,
no goal to moved towards
and nowhere to fall back.
The days blend together
without a marker to define,
milestones or important events.
Only sunrise, noon and sunset;
Every day is basically the same,
nowhere to go nothing to do.
So where do I go from here?
How do I climb out
of this abysmal conundrum?
I have no path, see no direction,
there is no impending mission;
I am in a limbo of my own creation.
So how do I find the exit,
out of this miserable stagnation?
I am stuck between living
and merely existing.

Gypsy Red

click click, computer mouse
three full hours
my life's clock ticking away
bored is how i spent my day:P

dread dead
are my how my emotions are cast
regret pain of past
the hours tick bye
and i say goodbye
but the hours of tomorrow will be just as sad
but the work will drive me mad
i'm broken
heart stolen
i'm torn
heart scorn
i can't get out
nomatter how hard i shout
cuz there is no freedom
only this dyeing kingdom
so i carry on
i'm just a pon
no one knows
how how far this decay goes
so i put another board to cover the floor
and make it perity to hide my rotting core

nothingness

something          
always          
somethingness      
always          
blessed          
when anaesthesia          
is at it`s best          
only then          
true nothingness          
         
nothinger          
than paralyzed          
by medicine chest          
nothinger          
than face down          
motionless          
after cocktails          
countless          
         
nothingness          
the only refuge          
when lover rejects          
regardless          
of excruciating pain          
I profess          
regardlesser          
than sacrifice          
in her service          
I acquiesced        
         
at the time        
it seemed        
totally selfless        
yet now I sense        
it was perhaps        
subconcious        
forcing self        
to invest        
emotional hedge        
psychological chips        
redempt        
when sufficiently        
stressed        
         
but I digress        
         
nothingness          
nothinger          
than death  
good `ol  
last breath          
Spirit released          
through energy          
mysterious          
only nothingness          
relieves          
pains from    
pondering closure        
of this mess          
         
oh genius          
anaesthetist          
bring me  
your best          
swirling tank  
of gaseous  
rest          
 
mis-interpret  
lab test  
dont double-check  
simply forget  
let innocent  
human error
eternally          
render
me oblivious          
in glorious
perpetual          
nothingness

Plastic Square Dance
 
that skull of mine      
cracks the eternal smile    
yet the actual facial muscles      
pull that way    
in scraps not piles    
     
must the plastic squares      
on my credit obtained      
inter-connected    
electronic contraption    
for personal use    
dance consistently    
     
be submitted on time      
at intervals to insure    
other individuals      
peruse my style    
so I can prove      
I`m worth      
just a little while    
     
what`s the point    
to annoy the annointed    
to deploy the alotted    
Soul in ways      
That GODS have plotted    
in futility      
since each passing moment      
sinks the flesh more rotted    
     
where's Joy      
once so common    
is She finite    
something a child    
can actually squander    
     
is She a coward    
ducking for cover      
ever more often    
as we wander    
through each successive    
layer of complexity      
that litters the trail    
of meted out mediocrity    
sucking us ever backward    
into corporate coffins    
     
perhaps She`s scared    
but,    
is there really enough room    
for Her to breath in there    
if she dared
is it within even HER power    
to do anything but    
sit and stare    
cower    
as if contaminating      
an Alien`s lair    

Venom Vodka

Stare at the wall
For ten hours straight
I've lost the thrill
To masturbate

Throw my ideas
Into a jar
Shake it up, see what comes out
A breakthrough isn't far

Conceived all I could
Until the break of night
Pointless to look upon
But I'm quite alright

Lost what was worthless
So why even bother
I don't really need
The sympathy of another

My will to care is gone
Along with yesterday
Your stupid face
Is in my way

Never believed I could
Make it seem real
Just go away
Too tired to feel

You make me want to puke
Out my duodenum
So I'll take a shot of vodka
Mixed with snake venom

Life In A Nutshell

I'm not the same anymore
Dark days bring light to me
And I wish to stay inside
Counting down until liftoff

She's not the same anymore
Watching it all kill itself
She takes pride in knowing
It won't be her this time

He's not the same anymore
Breaking his back for laughs
And his silence tells it all
A bit past the point of sick

They're not the same anymore
A time when they'd relish it
Now curse it, want it to leave
And never return

It's not the same anymore
Repetition and alcohol
Some pills to numb, forget
And some how's yer father

We're not the same anymore
Thought we'd do better than this
How foolish we were
How foolish we are

Nothing's the same anymore
And if there was something
To blame, we'd be free
For now, life will do

BOREDOM IS BEST

May you live in interesting times

Is a Chinese curse

For when I was a child

The summers I would curse

So much time, so little to do

That passed as I grew

To the point where I had so many tasks

Worker, mother, wife, maid

This was the life I thought I chose

Then my body demanded repose

I could not stop

So my immune system did

All my hard work

Came to nothing

Now a boring existence I live

At first I was angry

But now I realize

Nothing is better

Than watching the skies

Looking at the seasons change in color

Sit in my chair with a good book

Ennui the Russian blue.... you are my friend

Come here you cat.....you do not want to miss the end!

It's about playing a game so I hope it fits.. Just let me know I'll take it down if not

"Wanna Play?"


i have a Gothic little playboy bunny
who wears corsets and combat boots
ive raised her inside the corridors of my sick mind
and taught her all my favorite games
how to speak, and were to bleed
and now shes just as filthy as i
perverted and spiteful whose magnum mouthed
willing to scream, shes easily my favorite pet
prepared for all my sinister fantasy's
always waiting for my instruction
and now i have a surprise for my girl
such a surprise it is indeed!
ive fetched her a new play thing
to love and abuse at her will
to stain with the treachery only i can provide
pass down my fetish for scared flesh
and chizzle the flawless new player that i so desire

i let her choose her prey of course
to become the bunny's object of affection
we searched through all the hours of the night
for just the perfect specimen
and just as dawn appeared
she found her new obsession
a dying little emo girl bleeding in the streets
so we snatched her up and took her home
awaiting impatiently for her to awaken
we treat her wounds and chain her up
explain the dears situation for now until eternity
that shes become pleasures bitch
and there's no fucking up our program
between her sobs and petty pleas
we arrange her new attire
leather skirts and mesh fish net blouses
to attract her eye for tasteful morbid fashion

why she chose her, ill never know
such a tiny little thing she is  
perhaps its simply lustful intentions
or a craving for another s misguided soul
but whatever the reason as it may be
im fond of her new companion
the bloodied steaks of red scattered in her hair
the way her scars snake down her frame
and the way her half lit cigarette shadows her precious face.
i must confess however, the reason i adore her so
is the way she shudders under bunny's razor
moaning loudly with her strawberry gashes
loving all the pain inflicted
tied sweetly to her mistresses bed of torment
happily consumed with suicidal thoughts
aware escape is no longer an option
our new forced player inside my twisted games

Congrats Mike, good work everyone