Archive for the 'poem' Category

06
Feb
21

Coded Messages


BOARDING
BREATH TO GRASP
BRIGHTER DAWNS
CIVIL
CURE
DEBAUCHERY [ADULT CONTENT]
ESCAPE
ESSENTIAL SERVICE [ADULT CONTENT]
FORGOTTEN WISDOM CONTAINED
FUTURE LIFE
PROGRESS EVOLUTION TO BEYOND
SEED TO SALVATION
22
Jan
21

To Be Heard


As one who has spent many hours of his life infused with the need to express what is felt, seen, and heard; to acknowledge a young, inspiring Poet Amanda Gorman [https://youtu.be/FpR7iELvVrI]: to give poetry its place to affectively communicate in so many words, the hearts, minds, and consciousness of the many; gave inspiration to the following in tribute to her glorious achievement(s):

To Be Heard

To write a Poem, is not just words;

It is an individual’s feelings, felt to be heard.

To those whom encounter such a poem;

Know, its meaning is to find an emotional home.

Inspiration, often from the most innocuous place,

Can stimulate a composition of wisdom, hope and grace.

So, understanding that a Poem is more than just words;

Let its next encounter give cause for its meaning to be truly heard.

07
Jan
21

Conscious Minds’ Nod


Conscious presence of Mind,

Without which there is nothing to find;

Nor reason for purpose to define;

Nor form of structure to space in time.

Human Sentience is the perception tool

That allows for physic’s understanding to rule;

Otherwise, humanity becomes the ultimate fool

By believing: its domain is the ultimate jewel.

Does humanity’s presence make a Universe appear;

Or does all that it be – simply disappear,

Without perceptive eyes to see, ears to hear;

Or presence of conscious minds’ perception-sphere?

The answer to this quandary might be resolved

By going beyond Nature’s fundamental laws:

That all is known, guided by them, might be flawed

By their inception to a reality needing a conscious mind’s nod.

What do you think – yah, or nay?

14
Nov
20

Poet’s Mask



Hidden behind the poet’s mask of nom de plume
Purpose being: the reader to assume,
The words written, are not to presume;
They are of the author’s suffering, loves, or doom
 
This device to severe any personal tie
To salacious nature of subject that might imply;
Guilt of connection, that might belie;
Merit of reason- the poem written, is meant to cry
 
A work of fiction then one could conclude:
Artificial circumstance, or meaning to extrude?
Not in the least: it is mere device,
Exercised to protect from guilt of vice.
23
Mar
20

End of Human Existence


With little doubt, most around the world are consumed by the onslaught of the pandemic: COVID 19. The daily increase in number of deaths arising from its seemingly relentless spread. A spread by conveyance from one human individual, to another. 

Public Health officials, on all levels globally, are failing to persuade the broader public to the efficacy of the corona virus spread, and its potential lethalness with mortality reaching  into the several thousands globally.

Witnessing the blatant ignorance of humanity, of all nations, ignoring the warnings broadcast through the Media; the seriousness, and potentially devastating outcome by ignoring calls for self-isolation, social distancing, and quarantine if infected; there is given,  a sense of ironic, black humor to the `death-wish’ transpiring:

The bold, and beautiful array of human ignorance, on global display; when defiance to a truth to condition brings death, and sufferance their way, through ignorance to edict to obey: stay away; were it even, but for a moment on any given day.

Charting its invisible, pathogen course without human assistance, means meeting acceptance without resistance, by they whom seem persistent, to making its deathly journey consistent; and,  its ultimate success: the end of Human Existence.

Social Distancing

 

16
Jan
20

Forever


forever poem

 

30
Sep
18

Catastrophic Finality?


DEM

 

There was a time one could write of the failing world condition,

Speak clearly to the issues that give rise to fear and division,

To recognize the societal elements eroding into submission,

But, alas, time now seems beyond words to make corrective revision.

 

The reality is; political ineptitude is given undeniable power,

Pervasive media is filled with murder and hate to make one cower,

Filth of selfish greed reigns down like a golden-piss shower,

Nationalistic tribalism, once constrained, now let to flower.

 

This new millennium, since the days of its early start,

Tainted by the powder-keg lit by a terrorist spark,

Submerging all into a history growing increasingly dark,

Now two-decades in, convinced, it’s not to be a passing lark.

 

Not surprising, Hollywood films seem reflective precursors to a reality;

Conveying plausible reason not to ignore their story’s seeming banality

As often, the protagonist, confronted by a choice of a brutal-end totality,

In the end, misguidedly lures away from a truth of impending, catastrophic finality.

 

 

29
Sep
18

To a life borne


 

 

proclivity

Here I am found behind locked door

To a life I swore to be no more

But, what has been gained, is lost

It is to moments of life, the cost

Hidden by the shadow of what was

For no reason, just because

Movement of time has given to dictate

What will be, not given, but to take

Forlorn is the cause de jour

Not to be exposed, but demurred

Reason for last chance to find remedy

To a life borne to hardship and calamity

29
Sep
18

True Peace: a poem


true peace

28
Mar
18

Thoughts De jour


tash canIt’s been a while since motivated to put random thoughts to reality’s gain; but, so goes this day:

Nights Spent:

Like roaches that feed in the void of light; hiding their machinations from morality’s sight; to garner the lust of debauchery’s delight; filled with feelings contrite; displacing rancor with blithe; to find refuge in other’s fright, so go the hours spent by night.

Field of Dreams:

Blazoned upon open fields of trails; foot passages that hide deviant tales; trodden by exploits where wanton lust prevails; greed for pleasure hard to curtail; a place, ethical prohibitions are destined to fail.

Bathhouse:

Through dim-lite corridors, naked men parade; each lost to their own charade; to orgasm of pleasure, they’ve become the slave; for it, their moral soul to trade; open doors, engorged lust wantonly displayed; stale sweat, spent cum pervade; pheromonal triggers waff and cascade; driven to frenzy, driven to engage.

Creative Block:

Cloistered in a humble room of mindless imagination; spawned from germ of discontent; survived by the fruit of constant failure; striving toward ill-conceived ambitions; thwarted by the causation of reason; hopeless to gains of promise; foments realization to threat of survival.

Book:

Brandishing tool of eloquence; striving to be creative and communicative of mind, thought toward their realization of meaning; embodied in time, the measured vehicle of distributed reason; unencumbered by resistance of ridicule; saved for perpetual salvation of archival history.

Comments Are Much Appreciate: (consider them a author’s reward)

 




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