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Snigdha Banerjee Nov 2016
Oh The Weight Of Unrealised Love
Le me fall asleep to your voice & wake up to your breathing patterns
Title.        Never take for granted
the greatest power, the power to choose.
                ( An Acrostic ) of 50 lines.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Never take for granted the greatest power.
             The power to choose !
Every concession,or subsidy in whatever form
       As a contribution or donation to charity
Value this as a highest prize , volition is the          
   Sacred power to choose ,use that power well
Efficacy empowering the production of results
   By marching forward in a positive direction
Ranges of choices sometimes oh so wide as to
   Make a decision very difficult indeed.

Two equally ,typically undesirable alternatives
     We get to know typically as a dilemma
An act of choosing to take up one option as
     Opposed to another to maintain momentum
Knowing that there’s no apparent option rather
   than the real , you have “Hobson’s choice”
Embarras de richesses you become spoilt for
     Choice, is the other side of the coin.

From the comparison betwixt the humble poet
      And the power hungry “Megalomaniac,
Optimising in an act of choosing between the
  two, voluntary ,of one’s own free will Choose
Rights to act or judge by your power of choice
   you may call this discretion,one or t’other

God grants such power as yet unmaterialised
    and unrealised which he labels potential.
Relinquish that potential at your peril
   you may never live to see that choice again
An area of power and influence you may get
    to understand as your domain but reflect
Never take for granted the greatest power,
   the power to choose.
Twitter and chat with all and sundry
    relatives you’re born to, friends you choose
Even if you use your power of wit n influence
   and see it as weight n clout you throw about
Delegate or depute and assign somebody to
    make your choices for you. No don’t quit !

The A to Z of choices takes no time to ponder
    If you take for granted the power to choose
Hub of influence power centre ganglion from
    which nerve fibres radiate to every solution
Even by commencing from “A”. Aha . Eureka!
   you have chosen first time lucky .But wait. !

Great though he may appear as the “Boy”
  of your dreams, will he stand the test of time?
Retiring back into your shell ,your”Colleagues“
  At work never choose to know the real you.
Every “Demi-God “or “Elder”that you meet ,
  give respect to ,spoil it all by choosing not to.
An “F” word muttered under your breath .
    A “Gender” question,which choice of path?
To “Hero-worship” then a real life commitment
      “Interpreters “ of choices thru a Drago Man
Established in the art of choice as lead by
  “Jesus” Christ “Knowledge “that it will not fail

Superimposed, will “Liquidise “and blend
    all the choices that are available “Mmmmm”
To the most “Natural “smoothie that you have
   ever chosen to drink. “Ohhhh” yes. !  

Pause and “ Pause” again ,do we really under
    stand the power of choice. Procrastinate  !
Oh put off until tomorrow, “Quit” whilst ahead
      “Realise” your winnings in the now.
Weather you “Seek” perfection ,or an easy
    way out . “ Take” heart it is your choice
Ethereal choice becomes the mother of
    invention, when and where necessities dwell
React with an un-earthly prowess and ability
   to establish what was to be the right choice.

The “ Virtual “ choice that you could have
   made under the circumstances, bono-fide.
Having and knowing you have the power
    Of choice, it leaves it in your hands.
Even if you get the choice “Wrong” this time
    it is your mistake , no one else’s

Pretty soon you will know the error and mark
  It with an “X” n strive to get it right next time
Only “You “ have this individual power
   To make up your own mind .You do, don’t you
We can all be as”Zealous “and pedantic as
   You like in life but choices win through .
Even if you can’t be bothered to take the
   Choice to read this poem, on and on and on.
Reacting in a moment of impatience.
  “ what am I doing wasting time reading this?”

To have a power of choice is a valuable power
    not granted to all people of the world.
Oh stay with me ! Tell me that you understand
    the meaning of this poem. Do I make it clear

Can you choose? Do you choose? Are you
   exercising a sacred power that you’re given?
Holy power, not given to timid mice sitting
  on the fence waiting for the right choice
Oh no ! Never take for granted the greatest
    power, the power to choose.
Onlookers and bystanders are you learning
   from any of the simple examples I have set?
See unless you see and understand the good
   and bad choices made by man thru ages .
Earth and the Universe would have failed
  In its quest to provide a Heaven that we seek
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip. 30/10/2018.
This is not your average Acrostic. I have incorporated an A to Z. Abcerian within its length which requires extra effort and stayed within a first person monologue. I hope the reader liked this effort. It took a week to write.
Burning Lilacs Jul 2019
It's as though through letting ideas slip away into nothingness
I've died countless times:
unrealised, unfulfilled, unsatisfied.
Their last scream of agony devoid of substance,
reverberates through me,
Reminding me that
I've neglected to death that which could've filled me.

I sit alone quietly watching,

An ego of sand trickles down
each grain a like on a tweet, a seen video.
Aren't they really smart? The people who make these things?
Promised to make me golden,
And I am, indeed.
Just as cold and saleable as that.

NO no,

I keep trying to claw my way out.
It's taking too long, why isn't it working?
Hands getting weaker?
Nails dulling out?
Or maybe I've never had anything sharp on myself to begin with.

The worst is that I'm not alone in this
And most of you seem content.
Living being made to obey
With grains of dopamine being thrown around
as we dance to catch each in our mouths.
Not much different from these poor animals at the circus.

Let's cut this short.

Aim big and don't expect a praise or prize soon after you start.
People aren't brands and brands aren't people.
Let's learn to enjoy the ride more than the destination.
Good luck, I believe in me,
I believe in you.
Good luck good luck good luck, remember you're a knife that just needs sharpening sometimes.
The Noose Jan 2014
Violin sonatas of gloom
Acoustics of desire
Play all at once
A peculiar compilation
An elegy of sorts
For yours truly
Welcome to life
Soak up the unrealised potential

Inflamed with rage
To this day
You walk this earth
With a strong conviction
You owe yourself something
You cannot deliver
Extreme self-expectations
Coupled with perfectionism
The fatal modus operandi
You continue adhering to
Goodluck with standing in the way
Of your own happiness

Thrive in your concentrated negativity
While seeking solace in one-liners
Of absolute *******
You maybe a joke
But you are hilarious
Oh, wait.. the joke wore thin
A dozen punchlines ago
You died 12 summers ago
It’s whatever

One day bitter and wilted
As you sit in a cold impersonal office
You will dream about the ocean
And mourn wasted youth
Today will be yesterday
Today is ruined
Tomorrow is dead.
Just for clarification I am ******* enthusiast.
Oliver Philip Dec 2018
2010
Title.        Never take for granted
the greatest power, the power to choose.
                ( An Acrostic ) of 50 lines.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Never take for granted the greatest power.
             The power to choose !
Every concession,or subsidy in whatever form
       As a contribution or donation to charity
Value this as a highest prize , volition is the          
   Sacred power to choose ,use that power well
Efficacy empowering the production of results
   By marching forward in a positive direction
Ranges of choices sometimes oh so wide as to
   Make a decision very difficult indeed.

Two equally ,typically undesirable alternatives
     We get to know typically as a dilemma
An act of choosing to take up one option as
     Opposed to another to maintain momentum
Knowing that there’s no apparent option rather
   than the real , you have “Hobson’s choice”
Embarras de richesses you become spoilt for
     Choice, is the other side of the coin.

From the comparison betwixt the humble poet
      And the power hungry “Megalomaniac,
Optimising in an act of choosing between the
  two, voluntary ,of one’s own free will Choose
Rights to act or judge by your power of choice
   you may call this discretion,one or t’other

God grants such power as yet unmaterialised
    and unrealised which he labels potential.
Relinquish that potential at your peril
   you may never live to see that choice again
An area of power and influence you may get
    to understand as your domain but reflect
Never take for granted the greatest power,
   the power to choose.
Twitter and chat with all and sundry
    relatives you’re born to, friends you choose
Even if you use your power of wit n influence
   and see it as weight n clout you throw about
Delegate or depute and assign somebody to
    make your choices for you. No don’t quit !

The A to Z of choices takes no time to ponder
    If you take for granted the power to choose
Even by commencing from “A”. Aha . Eureka!
   you have chosen first time lucky .But wait. !

Great though he may appear as the “Boy”
  of your dreams, will he stand the test of time?
Retiring back into your shell ,your”Colleagues“
  At work never choose to know the real you.
Every “Demi-God “or “Elder”that you meet ,
  give respect to ,spoil it all by choosing not to.
An “F” word muttered under your breath .
    A “Gender” question,which choice of path?
To “Hero-worship” then a real life commitment
      “Interpreters “ of choices thru a Drago Man
Established in the art of choice as lead by
  “Jesus” Christ “Knowledge “that it will not fail

Superimposed, will “Liquidise “and blend
    all the choices that are available “Mmmmm”
To the most “Natural “smoothie that you have
   ever chosen to drink. “Ohhhh” yes. !  

Pause and “ Pause” again ,do we really under
    stand the power of choice. Procrastinate  !
Oh put off until tomorrow, “Quit” whilst ahead
      “Realise” your winnings in the now.
Weather you “Seek” perfection ,or an easy
    way out . “ Take” heart it is your choice
Ethereal choice becomes the mother of
    invention, when and where necessities dwell
React with an un-earthly prowess and ability
   to establish what was to be the right choice.

The “ Virtual “ choice that you could have
   made under the circumstances, bono-fide.
Having and knowing you have the power
    Of choice, it leaves it in your hands.
Even if you get the choice “Wrong” this time
    it is your mistake , no one else’s

Pretty soon you will know the error and mark
  It with an “X” n strive to get it right next time
Only “You “ have this individual power
   To make up your own mind .You do, don’t you
We can all be as”Zealous “and pedantic as
   You like in life but choices win through .
Even if you can’t be bothered to take the
   Choice to read this poem, on and on and on.
Reacting in a moment of impatience.
  “ what am I doing wasting time reading this?”

To have a power of choice is a valuable power
    not granted to all people of the world.
Oh stay with me ! Tell me that you understand
    the meaning of this poem. Do I make it clear

Can you choose? Do you choose? Are you
   exercising a sacred power that you’re given?
Holy power, not given to timid mice sitting
  on the fence waiting for the right choice
Oh no ! Never take for granted the greatest
    power, the power to choose.
Onlookers and bystanders are you learning
   from any of the simple examples I have set?
See unless you see and understand the good
   and bad choices made by man thru ages .
Earth and the Universe would have failed
  In its quest to provide a Heaven that we seek
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
December 19th 2018. ~
Some poetry to live by ....  The greatest power
Oliver Philip Nov 2018
2010
Title.        Never take for granted
the greatest power, the power to choose.
                ( An Acrostic ) of 50 lines.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Never take for granted the greatest power.
             The power to choose !
Every concession,or subsidy in whatever form
       As a contribution or donation to charity
Value this as a highest prize , volition is the          
   Sacred power to choose ,use that power well
Efficacy empowering the production of results
   By marching forward in a positive direction
Ranges of choices sometimes oh so wide as to
   Make a decision very difficult indeed.

Two equally ,typically undesirable alternatives
     We get to know typically as a dilemma
An act of choosing to take up one option as
     Opposed to another to maintain momentum
Knowing that there’s no apparent option rather
   than the real , you have “Hobson’s choice”
Embarras de richesses you become spoilt for
     Choice, is the other side of the coin.

From the comparison betwixt the humble poet
      And the power hungry “Megalomaniac,
Optimising in an act of choosing between the
  two, voluntary ,of one’s own free will Choose
Rights to act or judge by your power of choice
   you may call this discretion,one or t’other

God grants such power as yet unmaterialised
    and unrealised which he labels potential.
Relinquish that potential at your peril
   you may never live to see that choice again
An area of power and influence you may get
    to understand as your domain but reflect
Never take for granted the greatest power,
   the power to choose.
Twitter and chat with all and sundry
    relatives you’re born to, friends you choose
Even if you use your power of wit n influence
   and see it as weight n clout you throw about
Delegate or depute and assign somebody to
    make your choices for you. No don’t quit !

The A to Z of choices takes no time to ponder
    If you take for granted the power to choose
Even by commencing from “A”. Aha . Eureka!
   you have chosen first time lucky .But wait. !

Great though he may appear as the “Boy”
  of your dreams, will he stand the test of time?
Retiring back into your shell ,your”Colleagues“
  At work never choose to know the real you.
Every “Demi-God “or “Elder”that you meet ,
  give respect to ,spoil it all by choosing not to.
An “F” word muttered under your breath .
    A “Gender” question,which choice of path?
To “Hero-worship” then a real life commitment
      “Interpreters “ of choices thru a Drago Man
Established in the art of choice as lead by
  “Jesus” Christ “Knowledge “that it will not fail

Superimposed, will “Liquidise “and blend
    all the choices that are available “Mmmmm”
To the most “Natural “smoothie that you have
   ever chosen to drink. “Ohhhh” yes. !  

Pause and “ Pause” again ,do we really under
    stand the power of choice. Procrastinate  !
Oh put off until tomorrow, “Quit” whilst ahead
      “Realise” your winnings in the now.
Weather you “Seek” perfection ,or an easy
    way out . “ Take” heart it is your choice
Ethereal choice becomes the mother of
    invention, when and where necessities dwell
React with an un-earthly prowess and ability
   to establish what was to be the right choice.

The “ Virtual “ choice that you could have
   made under the circumstances, bono-fide.
Having and knowing you have the power
    Of choice, it leaves it in your hands.
Even if you get the choice “Wrong” this time
    it is your mistake , no one else’s

Pretty soon you will know the error and mark
  It with an “X” n strive to get it right next time
Only “You “ have this individual power
   To make up your own mind .You do, don’t you
We can all be as”Zealous “and pedantic as
   You like in life but choices win through .
Even if you can’t be bothered to take the
   Choice to read this poem, on and on and on.
Reacting in a moment of impatience.
  “ what am I doing wasting time reading this?”

To have a power of choice is a valuable power
    not granted to all people of the world.
Oh stay with me ! Tell me that you understand
    the meaning of this poem. Do I make it clear

Can you choose? Do you choose? Are you
   exercising a sacred power that you’re given?
Holy power, not given to timid mice sitting
  on the fence waiting for the right choice
Oh no ! Never take for granted the greatest
    power, the power to choose.
Onlookers and bystanders are you learning
   from any of the simple examples I have set?
See unless you see and understand the good
   and bad choices made by man thru ages .
Earth and the Universe would have failed
  In its quest to provide a Heaven that we seek
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip. 2010.
Never take for granted the greatest power the power to choose
Oliver Philip Jan 2019
Title.        Never take for granted
the greatest power, the power to choose.
                ( An Acrostic ) of 50 lines.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Never take for granted the greatest power.
             The power to choose !
Every concession,or subsidy in whatever form
       As a contribution or donation to charity
Value this as a highest prize , volition is the          
   Sacred power to choose ,use that power well
Efficacy empowering the production of results
   By marching forward in a positive direction
Ranges of choices sometimes oh so wide as to
   Make a decision very difficult indeed.

Two equally ,typically undesirable alternatives
     We get to know typically as a dilemma
An act of choosing to take up one option as
     Opposed to another to maintain momentum
Knowing that there’s no apparent option rather
   than the real , you have “Hobson’s choice”
Embarras de richesses you become spoilt for
     Choice, is the other side of the coin.

From the comparison betwixt the humble poet
      And the power hungry “Megalomaniac,
Optimising in an act of choosing between the
  two, voluntary ,of one’s own free will Choose
Rights to act or judge by your power of choice
   you may call this discretion,one or t’other

God grants such power as yet unmaterialised
    and unrealised which he labels potential.
Relinquish that potential at your peril
   you may never live to see that choice again
An area of power and influence you may get
    to understand as your domain but reflect
Never take for granted the greatest power,
   the power to choose.
Twitter and chat with all and sundry
    relatives you’re born to, friends you choose
Even if you use your power of wit n influence
   and see it as weight n clout you throw about
Delegate or depute and assign somebody to
    make your choices for you. No don’t quit !

The A to Z of choices takes no time to ponder
    If you take for granted the power to choose
Even by commencing from “A”. Aha . Eureka!
   you have chosen first time lucky .But wait. !

Great though he may appear as the “Boy”
  of your dreams, will he stand the test of time?
Retiring back into your shell ,your”Colleagues“
  At work never choose to know the real you.
Every “Demi-God “or “Elder”that you meet ,
  give respect to ,spoil it all by choosing not to.
An “F” word muttered under your breath .
    A “Gender” question,which choice of path?
To “Hero-worship” then a real life commitment
      “Interpreters “ of choices thru a Drago Man
Established in the art of choice as lead by
  “Jesus” Christ “Knowledge “that it will not fail

Superimposed, will “Liquidise “and blend
    all the choices that are available “Mmmmm”
To the most “Natural “smoothie that you have
   ever chosen to drink. “Ohhhh” yes. !  

Pause and “ Pause” again ,do we really under
    stand the power of choice. Procrastinate  !
Oh put off until tomorrow, “Quit” whilst ahead
      “Realise” your winnings in the now.
Weather you “Seek” perfection ,or an easy
    way out . “ Take” heart it is your choice
Ethereal choice becomes the mother of
    invention, when and where necessities dwell
React with an un-earthly prowess and ability
   to establish what was to be the right choice.

The “ Virtual “ choice that you could have
   made under the circumstances, bono-fide.
Having and knowing you have the power
    Of choice, it leaves it in your hands.
Even if you get the choice “Wrong” this time
    it is your mistake , no one else’s

Pretty soon you will know the error and mark
  It with an “X” n strive to get it right next time
Only “You “ have this individual power
   To make up your own mind .You do, don’t you
We can all be as”Zealous “and pedantic as
   You like in life but choices win through .
Even if you can’t be bothered to take the
   Choice to read this poem, on and on and on.
Reacting in a moment of impatience.
  “ what am I doing wasting time reading this?”

To have a power of choice is a valuable power
    not granted to all people of the world.
Oh stay with me ! Tell me that you understand
    the meaning of this poem. Do I make it clear

Can you choose? Do you choose? Are you
   exercising a sacred power that you’re given?
Holy power, not given to timid mice sitting
  on the fence waiting for the right choice
Oh no ! Never take for granted the greatest
    power, the power to choose.
Onlookers and bystanders are you learning
   from any of the simple examples I have set?
See unless you see and understand the good
   and bad choices made by man thru ages .
Earth and the Universe would have failed
  In its quest to provide a Heaven that we seek
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
December 29 th. 2018. ~
Never take for granted the greatest power the power to choose
Edward Coles Aug 2013
There are two sides to all. Two sides
To the world, and where it may sit
On the wheel. Black or red?

A split of inheritance. Right sided
Dreams, left sided mornings. Mournings
For those fragments of imagination

Left gagged and bounded. Tamed by
Penny-pinching and waist-trimming
And all other concepts that work like

A chisel. Chip away at me, they happen
Like thorns and barbs until I don’t look
In mirrors. And I dare not breathe past sighs.

A split of inheritance. The joy of invention,
A brain for science. New discoveries smash
Like champagne bottles to bless understanding.

It splits. It splits in two. The descendants build
On the used brownfields. Grey matter on grey matter
As if building over condemned land.

The roses of love and star-travel are but one side.
A veneer, more accurately. For in their gift
We would pick apart their heads, our heads,

Forgetting the years of thicket and thorn that
Had grown underneath. In forgetting, they talk
Of surprise at our true nature, though the thorns came

Long before the flowers, and were ever-present throughout.

Each measure of wonder; of love and poem and comedy
Are cruelly tempered. They are tamed by lust.
Lust for power, for vengeance. In-group. Out-group.

Heads or tails? I lie instead on my side.
A fallow state, a false parade. Technicolor masts
To sail lazily on my false knowledge. I speak of compassion

And philosophy. I hope they validate me
In the same way certificates do, for those men in suits.
Their success apparent and substantial, its frame

Weighs heavy on me. Barbs and dead weight,
My breath perishes uselessly I feel. A dandelion head
Caught in a chain link fence or a jungle of concrete,
Full of promise, pregnant with fertility
In a sea of barren saltwater and cigarette ash.
There’s nothing left but to write. There are

Two sides, two sides to all. Two sides to my words,
The hope of a finished poem. The harrowing read-through
By the morning. A mourning for myself

And my inactivity. The breadth of life in other’s words,
Tales of movements, experience; novelties in my
Small-town mind. I dream of Peru.

Two sides to myself. Two sides as there is to all.
One side is a virtuoso. Tuxedo-clad and hair slicked back,
Detaching from its greased trap only through

My movements with the keys. A movement free
Of thought. A meditation of music, a collective
Unconscious of chords. It is a side.

The same side that tells of tales past. Man lived
Before money. If man dies, money is contracted to go too.
It is bound. It is rite. It is truth.

The other side, though. The other side
Begs and borrows. It casts anger at my dreams
And how they lighten my wallet so. It hacks

Away with my lungs. Cigarette tar laced in bronchioles,
The result of a dream unrealised. I fidget in this other side.
It makes me shift in my seat, forever impounding,

Forever confounding. Forever uncomfortable.

There are two sides, two sides to all.
One is the scope of man, the ideal self.
The other is the result. A bulb-lit scoreboard

Above our heads. Money signs and bloodlines
Are a measure of man. Our measure. Two teams;
One competing for gold, the other asking

Of what competition is at all. And so one side
Sees us as animals, our rules foolish and lame
Aside those of Nature (with a capital ‘N’)

And the other tells us it is all there is. At least
All that there is worth knowing. For what good
Is it, to dream of the stars? Or Peru, even?

If you do not have the successes to get there?

Two sides, there is forever two sides.
One is a love for myself and for all.
The other is brain-chatter. It tells me little

But it says a lot.
Complex innards of the female form,
Unrealised by the male definition of the world.
Intensity grabs a hold,
Locking me harshly onto the cracks in-between.
There's no such thing as enough.
More and more till faces are torn.
Slit in two. Sown up. Slit in four. Sown up.
And so on.

There's no needle, skin, key.
All useless paraphernalia.
Inserted into the flesh,
Then poured out at death.

Empower myself with the force of control.
Uncontrolled self-control  lost to control of others.
Sunken by unwanted wanting of the sub-conscience.
Never to be fixed or forgotten,
Just left lingering in the abyss,
Eating away at you as you distaste yourself.

Visitations upon our corrected correctors,
Bringing solace for short periods.
Thrown fiercely under the bed to be forgotten again.
Convicted to lives of self-mutilation,
Self-deprivation, self-contemplation.
Hidden behind glistening eyes, just lies.

Stand, sit in ****** lanes peering up at the moon.
Lungs slowly growing blacker, laced with tar.
Hindsight is a curse, ignorance-bliss.
All held inside a shaking fist, shaking unwillingly.
Unwillingly shaking, kicking walls
To knock down, insane with powerless power.
Unhinged, unattached.
Inside, growls to torture.
Outside, smiles to assist.
lost to my world of emotion loathed by confusion i can't define existance between the lines of coruption manipulated human justifyin death wit superior instructions weapon or not  the choice was chosen by deception never recognisin your actions these are the troubles of afections when men are punished by unrealised intention i nw hand my attention my insides made to continuesly feel passion  but lost lack the attitude to not loose the perception beauty in pian wat strange attraction
annh Jan 2019
Time threads her necklace patiently,
Choosing carefully the colour and shape of our experiences,
Here, a tumbled quartz - luminous and rosy,
There, shards of darkest onyx - tragic and uncompromising,
Every now and again, a perfect sphere of sacred turquoise to mark a special occasion.

Finally, satisfied with her handiwork Time ties off the strand,
And weaves the precious metal of our dreams - unrealised - into an intricate clasp,
As she places the memento around her bejewelled neck she sighs to herself and whispers:
‘Such promise, such pain, such beauty, such loss; I will treasure you always.’
Then reaching for her spool of silver thread, she begins again to thread her golden needle.
You dreamed it once
The slow bend in the road
Past which the world delves
Into the realm of the unreal
Unrealised futures selves
That are as material as
Anything will ever be
In this stretch of land
Between here and infinity
Where a million bonded yous
Could be living in flawed
Synchrony, a dissonance of
Possible lives you will never see
Even now at the precipice
Of all that waits to come
The time it takes for a hum
To bloom into the vibration
Of a body growing wings
Is that step that lays down
The brick for the next
Two feet never together
On the same square inch of ground
There lies the sound of cracking shells
A chrysalis to which you are bound
By birth, where inside you lay the
Stones of the inverted pyramid
With each clean bone leading
Cleanly to the edge, the rising temple
Held up by the apex of the roof
Long before belief has penetrated
The invisible heart of the root
uzzi obinna Oct 2015
I have seen the blood of my loved ones, spilled on a dusty road;
Seen the fall of kings, powerful warriors and the bold;
The skin of mothers and little children, broken by cold;
The ancient landmarks of the fatherless, siezed and sold.

I have heard the cry of the homeless but no one there to save;
Heard the wailing of the deserted, seen the tears of the brave;
Many driven from their homelands, now hiding in caves;
And a father toiling night and day, treated as a slave.

I have heard of dreams of many, still unrealised;
The ****** daughters of priests, lured or defiled;
The goals of youths, swallowed up by pride;
And the future of generations, poorly discerned.

I have read government policies, unfavourable for the common man;
Heard of national resources, expended without concrete plans
Communities connive to eliminate a defenseless clan;
And a nation sold into modern slavery, by reckless polititians.

Many tears have droped, sweat and blood everywhere;
Many races have been run but the end seems nowhere near;
Many have waited hopelessly for a better year;
Many have stood up but crawled back for sake of fear.

A day will come when the oppressed will arise;
Like Martin Luther King Jr. did,though his blood was a price;
Like Nelson Mandela did, even though his act was termed a vice-
For the freedom of the enslaved and oppressed but the wicked's sudden demise.
mhsutton Dec 2015
It was December and warmer than usual
  when I cried my eyes out.
First I thought of my father, who died when I was seventeen
   and I cried for my lost confidante and my mentor,
Then came my children and my gentle breeze,
  and I cried for dreams unrealised and a death unexpected,
Then came the vision of my Father-in-Law
  and I cried for the theft of a beautiful, gentle soul,
Then came the loves I passed in my cold and confused youth
  and I cried for what was, could have been and simply imagined,
Then came the poor and the desperate strangers
  and I cried for the injustice and the severed cord of humanity
Finally I sobbed for myself
  for the sadnesses I endured and the failings that I am.
oh how I cried.

I cried with wine and without,
tears salty with the grapes of Spanish hillsides

I cried with tears so hot they steamed my glasses
with a fog of self loathing.

I cried until my tears were all but gone
  until all that was left was me
  and all my flaws and my humbled greatness.
A stone terrain waits

A landscape deserted

Devoid of real

Or imagined explorations

For it turns inward

At a tangent that

Precludes inquiry

It has an articulation

Of slow deliberate movements

Where particularized

Geology has painted it

Cut off and disconnected

By an estrangement of creation

Other existences only serve

To magnify its sense of isolation

Its blank uncaring non-geometric

Dimensions of observable

Unquantifiable location is obscure

And unrealised

Producing an immediate

Initiated sensory experience

Of unreleased silent appraisal

But why does it wait?

What for

Does it anticipate or foresee

Some expected prediction

Of apocalyptic presentiment

Is it recalling color?

Or is it experiencing

The present like floating in a dream

Alas there is no clue

To its tilted yet frozen expectancy

A stone terrain waits
Aidan A Mar 2017
If she may fall asleep
Within a solace spun of oceans deep,
Where she rests - upon a foundation of strength
And finesse, I pray her weary eyes
Will soon forget their burdens
That she will breathe new life and
See herself for the radiance
She truly is.

If I may venture,
Brave the tides and slay the demons that plague her
Perhaps spark change beyond just seeing...
Would her gaze rest upon my being?
And bless my thoughts with her complexion,
An immaculate theater of inspiration.

If I had stayed here,
And rose above my doubtful waves to find her
Drowned in sorrow, or soaked in pain
Under darkened storms and torrential rain
For and beside her I'd take my place
To coax sunrise from her cloudburst face,
To call stars for eyes, always dawning surprise -
Such grace upon my evening skies.

If I may ask her,
To let me drown within the deepest seas
Of her eyes, just a second longer,
Before they shut, and she falls asleep
Amongst unrealised dreams and bursting seams
Where I’ll be, to stay staunch and guide her
To clear conflicting briar, so she may once again rest
Upon a foundation of strength
And finesse.
An old poem with a couple new lines. Still unsure if the new stanza takes away from its original delivery. Anyways, this poem is about guardianship that is found in (some) love. It is an inherent feeling of wanting to protect those you value. Thanks for reading!
mike Aug 2015
is a slave
who doesnt know
theyre a slave
still a slave?
that depends
on your definition
of freedom.
what does
a human need
to be free?:

the understanding
of what freedom is.
The novelty of it all
Something for nothing
After busting yourself for years
The satisfaction of getting
Something back wears off
Your patience wears thin as
Boredom absorbs all ambitions
The novel lies unrealised
The lust for new language and adventure
Lost
Nothing will come of nothing
Empty.
Fatigue.
Wasted time.
Begets begets begotten
Surviving but not living.
Vaelente Oct 2016
Atlas and the daughter of unknown origins*

My world revolves around you,
father,
you held the sky when I was born,
small goddess, I lay,
at your feet.
You cried and it was raining in my atmosphere,
I think you said I was lovely,
though my small ears could only hear
so far beyond the clouds.

I don't know what you've done,
some dreadful deed unrealised,
until I asked for you to kiss my cheeks
and you couldn't reach
so low.

I thought of you,
Atlas, Atlas,
protecting a face you'd never seen.
Stretching space into itself
so that I could breathe.
I thought of you,
Atlas,
when you didn't think of me.

I found Odysseus floating in the sea.

He looked like you,
he looked like Zeus and all his long-haired wives
and all their children too.
Odysseus the bravest,
the true.

(I loved him far too much,
before I knew what love could be,
a thing of claws and teeth).

Father, that man stole away
with all the bitter-sweetness of my name,

"I cannot do this anymore,"
Calypso, hide,
"I will tell them all you lied,"
Calypso, hide,
"you are a thing of shame."

Odysseus broke my heart,
Atlas missed the beat.
Janette Jul 2012
Memories whisper-drift
Where
Unrealised dreams
Wait on the edge, and time
Sways anchored inside
The space where nothing matters;
Hearts share a moon glistened destiny,
An intertwined beauty
Holding on tightly, hands clasped in prayer,
Night whispers the beating heart, nestled safely
On horizon's cusp
As rain softly whispers kisses down upon the echoes
Staining each sacred ache,
Petals of silk
Open arms
And
Heartprints collide upon tender;
Shadows of happiness,
Rainbow,
Softest reflections beneath a breath...
So many forgotten..

Still wonder what keeps me going with so many unrealised.

Every now and then I try and take a stalk

Where has life bought me?

And always end up mesmerized with what has happened..

Nothing has changed in its own way by changing every thing around

Beauty this life bestows can never be comprehended.

Most well read phrases always reminds..

"………life never gives you what you want but gives you what you need"

If it was so simple then why dream?

Lost and entangled still come out uncomplicated.

Beauty this life brings still mesmerizes me!

Had so many incomplete

so many forgotten still wonder why we move on …

…. Dreams lost don’t know in what time

but I still carry on with the same speed ….

Wonder what keeps the complicated so uncomplicated

And as simple as it sounds

without being able to take a stalk, where life brings you and where it moves on!!
The Noose Dec 2014
Suspended high on the
Pendulum of volatile emotion
As high as my horizon
That of gravity
Which knew not my name

Discarded by the wings of mirth
The carcass of my yesterday
Collided with my tomorrow
Tainting my dreams of splendour

The dead hands that clung on
The fragile shadow
Ashamed of the light
The chasm is endless

A tidal wave of
Endless murderous desire
Drenched in vermilion
Susceptible to ruin
The rhythm of the heart
Pounded
Ever so thunderously
Intensity
Too profound to fathom
A catapult into the unknown
Deliciously so

The year draws nigh
Envisaged ends
Remain unrealised
Ready to roar
Or maybe
Just speak.
I for one am ready to see this year go,  what lies ahead I am uncertain of, feet forward into a blinding forest. I'll follow my feet.

Happy New Year poets, remember to love grandly and live genuinely someday.. I pray, the puzzle pieces will fit.
Sean M O'Kane Nov 2018
How often do you hear the expression "there's never enough time"?
Too much to fully comprehend its full ramifications:
The lost moments,
the endless "what if?" of unrealised human experience that simply vanishes in the ether,
the cold antiseptic realisation of death and one's grief for the time not spent with loved ones.
The misery of losing out to it all.

I say stop.

Embrace your family & friends while they are still sharing the same breath as you.
Forgive them for whatever trespasses they have & find a new commonality in love.
Tell them of their unmeasurable worth to you and all the others in their demi-monde.
Endlessly compliment them on their radiance and sheer uniqueness in the face of adversity.  

But don't forget to relish the gloriously diverse life all around you.
Or seek out the beauty of humanity's immense creativity and start to participate.
Sample how life can be truly transcendent if you just pay attention.
There is more to us all that waiting on the "right", convenient moment to connect.
Because, my friend, there is enough time for us all:
you just need to change the direction as time is no friend to our fragility.

November 7th 2018
My mother passed away last Thursday and in my grief over the weekend, I have been contemplating on the fragility of life and how we relate to each other when that fragility falls. I guess I was lucky in that I did (just) make time to be with her but I know many others out there were not so fortunate to have that last chance to be with loved ones. I think this poem reflects my slowly emerging way of seeing all of this differently having previously using my busy life as an excuse not to engage with what really matters. I'd like to think that might be why I was called back to her before she went. She did, after all, tell me not to worry last time we spoke because she knew I was a worrier. Her very last words to me as the Skype call hung up. RIP Mum. ***
faithfulpadfoot Feb 2017
Today, I am the feeling of falling, the
jolt of the unrealised last step
on the staircase.
I

Feel myself sliding
down a sheer cliff
face,   and turning
my face away from
all   of the       hand
holds and foot hold
s that could      save
me the fall.

Below me is the river, the one
you see in films, where the
crocodiles snap and scream and
the waves are shrieking too,
where the jagged, toothed rocks are reaching
up with their barbed fingers,
they pierce the air with vows to catch the fallen
and the hero can't hold on
for much longer.

But even though i try to shape these words into the silhouette of my descent, they only seem a shallow, shadow-shape i cannot make cement; and shadows cannot beat a heart with violent fear and fierce torment as my heart beats.
experimenting with shapes
Thando Jul 2018
Book: African Hidden Info's
Written By: Thando DebrokenPoet

To My Fellow Nigros
Lost Children Of Melanin
Fumbling Offsprings Of Mwari
You've Struggled
And Tumbled
In Chena Murume's(White Men's), grasping Hearts.

The Enslaved
And Consciously Disabled-
Till spiritually You Drowned
Deep Into Our Oppressors Feet.
Day-to-day You Lowered
And Waxed To Every sovereign state's Begger.

This Book Is to My Fellow Afru-ika
Sisters & Brothers.
And Fellow Nigro
Whose Ancestors Suffered As Steve Biko
Did And All Other
Liberation Heros.
To Name Few:Prophet/king Shake Zulu Of The Zulu Clan-
Prophetess Mtsopa, King Langalibalele , Takawira Of Zimbabwe,
Hector Peterson, Credo Muthwa
Mohamed Farrah Aidid Of Somalia.
And Many Unrealised, Unrecognised
Misunderstood Hero's, like the Xhosa Prophetess-
Nongqawuse
The True African Freedom Fighters.

Skinned Dark, Rough In Complexion
Creator's Mastered Creation
Though Notified
To Be Mvelinqangi's Rejected
Child.
Said Black pigment, displays
Alah's Curse Upon You Dark skinned.

Through Thy're Undying spirit,
mandate passed to Prophet Radebe.
I'll Unpack Africa's Hidden Truths
Self-owed By homme blanc(White Men).

My Intro, For My 10 Days
Of Poetree.
Onyx Jun 2018
‘Nobody Cares’
the gravity of those words
send me reeling
into the abyss of despair

are the greatest loves
fables of a deluded woe-begone?

if compassion dissolves to materail nothingness,

if passion is the means of exhuasting unrealised fantasises and lusts,

if trusts are meant to be cruelly broken,

What Is Love?

A pack of lies?
A tantamount of deceit and devillery?
A sad parody of broken hearts and damaged souls?
Or leecherous devouring of enigmas till they’ve sapped to death?

I wish those words
wouldn’t have murdered such beautiful innocence
of a perfect love
Him Feb 2021
The sun set, with scarlet potential, unrealised and unmet.

As I awaited your ephemeral silhouette; the promise to be kept.
Antony Glaser Mar 2016
An ounce of humam kindness
does that go a long way?
or is it alteady an exit sign
appearing to usher you away to safety
when its only envious of the vacant space.
A barbed comment may after all be an underlay warning
for a fault line
that an unrealised friend is trying to repair
A W Bullen Aug 2018
There is regret for the gradual entrapment and brainwashing of the human spirit, via lives of quiet servitude.
There is shame, the recognition of
potential diminished and unrealised, trained and drained for consumerism which is sold as the illusion of happiness ..filling our spaces with needless clutter, shrinking the borders of
individual thought...that last bastion of freedom and the well spring of change.
We are profiled, labelled and categorized, predictable and easily manipulated by systems that govern.

I feel this when the wind blows from certain quarters.
and when the curtain is briefly lifted, and we can look out toward the deep mysteries of space,
I recall the "Earthrise" photograph from the Apollo 8 mission and, still, after all these years find it profoundly moving..." Beautiful" is a far too lesser word to describe it.
It truly is a breath- stealing image...and it's our home.
And what have we done with it?
We over- populate, fly our flags, bang our drums, peddle our religions, burn our forests, pollute our seas eradicate species with impunity,...how, on Earth are we evolving?
We have such possibility yet have traded it all in for a business model with drivers of profit and greed.
and where are the indigenous peoples? ..the, recognized wiser custodians of the planet?
Subsumed or displaced,..turfed off their lands( that also happen to be rich in mineral deposits or ripe for development) largely unmentioned and forgotten.....and yet i cannot help thinking that these are the apex of our species with regards to their understanding of the value of our habitat....their insights far more sustainable and rooted than the bilious reach of our ****** little empires.
What could they have taught us if only we cared to listen....to really listen....
We have lost our sense of wonder, of symbiosis, of reverence...we take our place for granted..not as something extraordinary to be treasured

What is our collective aim?
And is there a " collective"...After all, a communal philosophy that proffers an alternative could prove difficult to subdue, far better the divide and conquer strategy that panders to the subtle edges of an avarice, that becomes our modern way.
While we bury our head in the sands of social media baying for loves and likes, we are drip-fed endless propaganda and advertising..
Outside our window there is a green unpleasant land sprayed with herbicide, insecticide, devoid of natural diversity by the sweep of our constant chemicals..
Where now , the fresh air ?

The curtain falls and I’m back in my day job, paying over the odds , but grateful of income...enough to get by..i have sorted the bills and might treat myself to a couple of t- shirts i have seen in the sale- (less than half price- you cant beat a good bargain) ….Will have a few beers while watching the game and cheer on my team...there is a chance of silverware this season....
I am suitably anaesthetized and gently returned to my conformity.
It seems easier this way....


This isn’t the search for some utopian cloud- kingdom, more of a quest for a balance of sorts.
I do not consider myself hard done by...I am more fortunate than many and will always place laughter above tears
But I am of an island race encircled by powerful waters....as they appear to protect, then so do they threaten...

I have no manifesto,...I am the product of my age...and I sleepwalk through this gift of life , but as i sleep so too i sometimes dream
dream of a pathway through and out beyond the high rise, over the weather- won tides, that leads to somewhere different, somewhere we have never been...
A friend asked me to explain "Remorse Code", so I have given it a go-and so I can remember it too!
Ashley Kane Mar 2018
Unaware of you at first
You
     Crept  
              Upon me
And strike .....

Weeping
Winding me instantly
    Unable to account for the cause
Polluting and heavy
Once started
        It spreads through me

     Overwhelming me
     Tired and defeated
     Mocked of pride
     Put in place and offended
     But deserved ??
     self guilt and doubt stirring
                                      an ocean ..... a bottomless pit
Dragged up and upheaved
To cut the surface sharp and wounded
Still raw and open
Unrealised ....
          And ...... unaddressed
Get back down .... now go
Sink
&
Rest
(C) Ashley Kane FB
A poem about a sad memory striking is forgotton about at the wrong time and place
Winter Oct 2020
Green electric messages
buzzed through her head.

"Will I ever make it?" she said.

"Will I make it to a place
where my unrealised dreams do not fade
and disappear, like snow
fighting the sun on a winters day.

Disappear and leave my empty thought-shells
sitting on a couch in the corner of my heart
- so that I feel I need to hug someone
just to restart.

When the fibers of my mind restore,
will my synapses come alive?
Like those little lights
that don the backs of wild firefly
on a summers night...

...and perhaps with all my might
I'll try to push letters out onto a page
to replace what was once there
- a blank space.

Yet, what a waste-"


Jennifer Alé
the woes of writers block
Janhavi Kharat Mar 2021
Oh , I feel I miss you
But is it you whom I miss?
Or is it those talkative eyes
Or those unrealised lies
Are they even these
Or is it our lives ;
That I miss?
Or your touch unfelt; yet as cold as ice?
Or the endless unperceived sighs;
Or just those eyes' lights
What is it that  I miss
But it's perhaps surely not you.
Because this doesn't give me a fright.
It's not you .
It's not you, I don't want it be you .
Sometimes it's not that we miss someone but probably the way they made us feel, their presence and influence .Hope the irony I tried to add is felt.
Camille lily Mar 2018
When I open my mouth
Your words spring from my lips.
The song I sing
Has your lyrics...your melody.
The road I walk endless... grinding...
Diminutive in your shadow.
Shed a bitter tear for dreams unrealised
Sense of self eroded , downtrodden,
Soon extinct.....
Rest in peace unique one.
Your differences are not celebrated here.
Rupal Jun 2020
There is no right and wrong ever.  
Once we realise a truth
it can never be unrealised.
It is.
Colouring it in shades of
right and wrong
doesn’t enhance or diminish it.
In an open mind the truth dawns.
To know something as it is,
may be the realisation
that saints talk about.
Where the difference between
the knower and known ends.
That brief moment of realisation
is all that it is.
When the dissection begins
words are inadequate and inaccurate. However you can never
“unknow” once you know.
KV Srikanth Jun 2021
At home and alone
Dreamer inside forlorn
Dreams remain dreams
Dreamer still dreams
Unrealised dreams stinging
Newer ones replacing
The problem for the dreamer
Lies in the dreaming

— The End —