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Dr Peter Lim Jan 2018
But this state of mind
is not self-chosen
but ****** upon
by life's myriad slings
of suffering
and indifference

the body and mind
are first buffeted
and later bruised and hurt
marks of pain are imbedded
like those branded
on the backs
of sheep and lambs
to stay and persist
to linger on and to violate
until life's last breath--

to be mortal
to be human
to feel
to hope
is to know Weltschmerz
sooner or later
few could such escape
seldom does its intensity
subside or abate

the monotony
the sameness
the chagrin
the weariness
the emptiness
the unchanging taste
of repeated experience
the brevity of joy
the hard knock of constant sorrow
on the weak and vulnerable door
of the heart, already shrinking
and sinking
the too-quick ending
of a love-song
and the night--kiss
vanishing
at the first peep
of the day's dawning

the unbearable thirst that's only
satisfied momentarily
but never quenched
soon enough the spring
dries up and the drought
sets in to aggravate--the despair
that returns to roost, hovering
ready for descending
on the self in quivering--

life has lost its meaning
living is but struggling
the moon has gone into hiding
the stars are tired of glittering
the tides are waning
the flowers are drooping
the trees are weeping
and love is farewelling--

Weltschmerz
the ultimate angst
that festers and invades
our total being.
axr  May 2016
weltschmerz
axr May 2016
Weltschmerz
ˈvɛltˌʃmɛːts,German ˈvɛltˌʃmɛrts/
noun*
a feeling of melancholy and world-weariness.

reading the newspaper became a chore
don't wanna read about another war
don't wanna read about climate change
no, don't tell me about the dark side of humanity
might as well lose my sanity
i don't want to know about the dead refugees
it only makes me feel more helpless
rivers flowing with filth
guns buried under corpses of the innocent
i'm a sad being behind a laptop screen
dreaming about glory the world will never see
i'm trying out something. please leave your comments below.
Polby Saves Jun 2010
Exclamation points are little lies we tell each other
In this digital age it's easier to feign surprise or excitement
When in actuality, nothing surprises anyone anymore
Now - disgust, apathy and scarily even hate
These things you can't disguise electronically as easily
And sadly even less so face to face
Crawlspace of the Cranium
$2.00 / 11 poems
Copyright © 1996-Present
Oliver  Sep 2018
Weltschmerz
Oliver Sep 2018
The lightbulb on the roof
Is flickering with proof
That the mind is dangerous
It's a poison in our youth

Our thoughts are hazardous
There's war inside of us
How are we still alive?
The abyss is cavernous

That to which we strive
We know will never thrive
We're told we should surrender
We weren't destined to survive

Our wounds are feeling tender
Our hopes are getting slender
We're buying what we're told
From the catastrophe vendor

Our brains fill with mould
Our bodies grow cold
We'll die before we get old.
The title is German; it literally translates to "world-pain".
Flo Jul 2018
German is a harsh language
An opinion that prevails
A strong rolled “R”
Noises, making you think
Something is stuck down your throat
Talking, in everlasting anger

Let me tell you something
Let me introduce you
To the beauty of the German language
To the words of “Wanderlust”, “Weltschmerz” or “Geborgenheit”
Many words so unique

Their meaning poetic
Using them yet so difficult
Listen to us closely and you will find out
German is not German
It comes in many forms
It varies by the region, state, country

Every form has its own character
Every accent has its own thrill
Determinable in the way it’s spoken
And sometimes hard to understand
Differences so great,
Yet compromised in a single tongue

Reconsider,
German is not as harsh as you think
No anger lies in our tone
Nothing is stuck down our throat
And spoken by the right person
It can be quite melodic
Trying to overcome the stereotypes...
Jonas  Feb 2021
Weltschmerz
Jonas Feb 2021
I'm good
most of the time
I'm in control
I'm satisfied, I can feel happines

But sometimes a feeling comes crashing over me
out of nowhere
triggerd
like when you finish a good book
the end credits roll
of a movie all so beautiful
emptiness sitting on your chest so heavily
I can't cry
no release granted
"pain demands to be felt"
my heart breaks, my mind trying to keep up
my heart can't keep up, my mind breaks loose
emptiness
the despair of ficitional characters
familiar but strangers all the same
not real but reality to me
I care for them, being dead inside
"face death, deal with it or lose yourself"
the last page is turned
the story stopped
all are dead and yet alive
in me
not enough room, make way

I try to numb it out to get back in control
whisky burns my lips
smoke scratches my throat
whishing for release
lose it, keep it tucked in forever
though I feel, finally
alive
I want to punish myself
I lose control for good
emotions bundle up to the surface
make up for time lost before
drunk texting
regret in the morning after
I need to express myself
to you, to anyone, get it out
there is no one here

Weltschmerz
pain of the world
all in one
tiny little heart so fragile
I'm made up of stories

My friend can I come over
I'm in that mood again
Alessander  Jul 2015
Weltschmerz
Alessander Jul 2015
You would figure
such a moment would be burned
into the paradigm of memory
when exactly did I learn
life was no cartoon?
well, it wasn’t one traumatic incident
rather a rushing current of events
a drunk uncle here, a screaming mom there
a belting boyfriend or toy-stealing sister
playmates picked dead last no matter
older boys bullying the younger
teachers who didn’t particularly bother
some cousins had yards and fathers
while others like me had neither
always more chores than fun
and no one ever explained how come
priests were less present and less kind
than the mexican street venders
there’s no specific scene to pause when I rewind
I honestly can’t remember.

It wasn’t at a funeral, by then
though I was young , I somehow knew
life was not all beautiful and true
that those adults who told me what to do
sobbed on dark beds and screamed at phones
then wiped their tears or ****** walls
before reentering the room
their eyes a little more like stone
while I pretended to un-see it all
and kept on playing with my toys, alone.
Weltschmerz: World-pain. World-weariness. That unique breed of melancholy born from recognizing the actual world will never mirror our ideal world.
gwen  Oct 2014
weltschmerz
gwen Oct 2014
time ticks quickly
          its insistence echoes through my bones

dates mean as much to me
          as raised voices do

and both whizz past in a blur
         the way cars do on a highway
                   because that's all i am, a kid playing in traffic.

i am no more a child than the girl i was ten years ago
         i have, in fact, shrunk.

i have been crushed upon being released,
         wrangled by the wind before i can begin to take flight.

the most enduring thing society has led me to think is that
         i am simply incapable of living.

i am a sad impersonation of the sun -
         shining so brightly for others, though inside,
                  
                   *i am lethal vacuum.
It burns-- Immensely
     Unclear why the pain is so bad.
Why does it feel this way--
     Locked up but
The treasurer owns nothing,
     Feeling the weight of
Other's unknown thoughts--
     The new pain
Mixes with the old,
     Devouring all in an
Unchanging harmony of this life.
Weltschmerz: Sadness over the evils of the world
Dr Peter Lim Apr 19
Weltschmerz -
it will come
to everyone
is real time-
sooner or later:

the same scenes
felt and enacted
the voices
too many heard
the grind of monotony
the dirge of sameness
people and friends
who come and disappear-

even the fairest rose
is pale and weary
of its once proud pose-
even the sea
its own murmur
doesn't covet anymore-

old dreams return
to roost- after
each summer
and winter
now wish
no longer
to wander-
the search
is over-
the heart
is tired
of longing
and peace
it prays for-


ah, love
love so dear
so gentle, so tender
longs to rest
in slumber
ere the break
of another morrow

and you and I
who have travelled
so long together
now sit back
to forget
rather
than remember-
memory's every page
is dotted
with much sorrow

ah,  Weltschmerz
the world-pain
and weariness-
the inevitable
that swallows
us all
who have grown old
and our life it darkens
with its pervading shadow
Saša Milivojev Oct 2019
.
In this century withal
Rivers of blood still flow
Bombs echo
Children are being killed
Heads are being severed
Millions are starving
Diseases are devouring
And you are singing

The gallows are trembling
In the valley of the fallen
In the salty tears
With our putrescent sores
We fall prey to the crows

Our festering entrails
For the starving wolves

A shattered house
Little boy is weeping
Over the body of his Father
That forever now is sleeping

Schools Temples and bridges bleeding
bloodstained wedding guests are screaming

Little white coffins
Maternal howls
Above Uranus
Hear the painful growls
Delirious poets are prattling
And not a word are you uttering

They blinded you
When they ***** your daughter
Strangled ‘er with the wire
They abducted your brothers
Tortured in the cellar
Shattered their fingers
With ferrous clubs
With a saw agape their skulls
Their legs wagons lacerated
Their limbs with machete dissected
Flayed the skin of their backs

Dumpers of corpses
Bulldozers to the grave consigned
Roads run over their bones in cement confined
Bodies filled the bottomless well over the brim
Come closer
Look within
The infinite darkness of the abyss
To hear the silence of the universe

A spark is glistening in an innocent eye
Children are helplessly falling to the dust
Venomous saliva dripping from their mouth
As their rosy intumescent faces bust

In their closing prayer
Reverends to a cross immured
Laughing at the stake they burned

Tender ivory cherubs
Flew away like a flock of birds

Rip my heart out from my chest
As I am unsleeping
May your golden ship catch wind away from shore
To raise your glass of blood once more
As you feast your eyes in silence



Saša Milivojev

Translated by Ljubica Yentl Tinska
visit: www.sasaamilivojev.com
Reece Jan 2014
In nature, as in civilised homes, there is evidence of conformity
      That only significant study would make apparent,
      but his studies were suspicious and neighbours would talk

The nose is bleeding and his pretty song is skipping
on the jukebox by the bathroom door
Anhedonia now is constant, the pathos inherent
As their mother went missing years ago
While they read Proust by the window,
and the day was drawing closed
Their father was sick with Absinthe shakes
whilst little duck starved in the pond behind the house

On disagreeable days,
profound introspection
becomes not more than
subversive ******-babble
and the words he speaks
are dust on the tongue
a bother and little more

Purported to be perpetually depressed, his cool demeanor left an impression
on his sister, as she would gaze upwards at his face, displaying world-weariness
So Weltschmerz they called him and his cool was palpable
but only her smile could bring colour to his fa-
*Writer grew disillusioned with this particular piece and decided to commit a literary suicide

— The End —