Tag Archive | disillusionment

The Illusion Of Romance

Neon Heart

Romance is an illusion. That’s why the divorce
Rate increases. A great number of couples thought
That when they married life would be a lifelong date.
But when reality sets in life’s not so great.
In illusion their hearts, minds, and egos are caught.
Inner guidance becomes the most trusted resource.

People who have bought into this idea of
A romance that is perfect perhaps believe that
Romance is what love really is which isn’t so.
Romance isn’t love. It cannot help you to grow
As a person. You want to take a good look at
Your relationship. Is it one made in true love?

Love is far deeper, more powerful, and it does
Not wear off like a romance will after a while.
Romance is the projection of good qualities
In oneself on another which leads to disease
Of the psyche which may be hard to reconcile.
You continue to long for the good time that was.

You see the other person as intelligent,
Beautiful, sensual, charming, gregarious,
And caring. If you can see yourself as all these
Plus a whole lot more of these kinds of qualities
You’ll attract just the right person. You need not fuss
With the details. They all will become evident.

Trivial Pursuits

Positive and Friendly; Appreciating Harmony

It’s seen simply as trivial… all that I do
From sun up ‘til sundown and the time in between.
Though to me it’s important, and I shouldn’t care
That the gift that I offer is not meant to share
With any but this troubled self. Why am I seen
As the fool who does nothing? Am I ugly too?

If folks took me more seriously would I be
In this hellish predicament victimized so?
I suspect that the answer is all up to me.
I am friendly to no one because none can see
I’ve a genuine purpose. It just doesn’t show.
I’ve become quite embittered, yet who can agree?

Someone started a joke in the form of a game.
Too late into it I find no reason to laugh.
Maybe I’m not supposed to. I feel I should cry
While awaiting complete withdrawal when I die.
I came here not to play, so the best epitaph
Is a statement of substance to honor my shame.

People don’t want to know me or read what I write
Because I’m lacking something. Clearly I’ve no clue.
It remains a big secret to me yet it’s fun
To the world and its players. For me there is none.
I feel I’m being punished, but what did I do
To deserve the aloneness? Why am I uptight?

When depression evolves into anger it’s seen
As a worthwhile improvement. I’ve given up hope
That getting any better can do me much good.
I’ve been at life a long time. Its blatant falsehood
Leaves no meaning where I can successfully cope
With abject isolation in my sick routine.