Chaos
G'day, / I'm just a thinking/ reflective man struggling to survive in a hostile economic system; trying to understand myself and the wider global village in an original voice. I like to think I'm a voice of the voiceless. / / I'm new to this forum - I've been reticent to expose myself and my accumulated poetry (about 15 years' worth) to a broader, global audience. However, my collected ravings may open a unique insight into the world of Mania, the Psyche, Science and the travails of the Public Mental Health system, amongst other observations. While some of my works are purely exercises in poetry (fun with words), others are more philosophic ideas structured along poetic lines in order to simplify rather complex issues facing Humanity. My works are considered stream of consciousness - aside from minor grammatical tweaks, I don't interfere with the expressed idea. / / I hope that some resonance/ interconnectedness can be found through this forum. / / Regards, / / Colin E. Havard / (Chaos)
The leaves wave at me
In universal greeting,
Renewing life bonds.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
Manufactured individualism
Quickly assimilated into societies and cultures
Conditioned to salivate uncontrollably
Whenever marketeers ring their bells;
And the conglomerates ring their hands,
Anticipating chaching, kachinging cash registers
And the ecstasy of zinged credit,
As their manipulations percolate
Through the media-saturated masses, moping
Susceptible to provocation of whims
Due to implanted inadequacies.
The child, youth - by extension, parent;
The socially inept, unconforming conformists,
All fall under the svengali-spjaller's dulcet nagging -
To Buy! Buy! See you next Tuesday, Suckers!
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 6:14 PM UTC
A zephyr's caress
Provokes listless leaves to dance;
Animates still life.
Mute witness, ancient;
Observing seasons and Man -
Awaiting progress.
Alien life-form,
Symbiotic vitalism
Understood - Unknown.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 5:52 PM UTC
Now I've bought a Rhyming Dictionary
I can avoid a fatal coronary
Any time I'm fool enough to rhyme.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 5:45 PM UTC
Cigarettes burnt low -
Stain fingers, damage organs -
Slow, sure suicide.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 5:41 PM UTC
Once you "shift" - you're off
On a manic adventure, chaotic and mysterious:
Buoyed by a self-aggrandised delusion;
Your off to explore and discover;
To find answers to unposed questions;
To clarify coincidences and follow tenuous connections;
Compelled to experiment and to wander,
Wondering about unfathomables
And your place in the Cosmic hierarchy;
Trying to fit Reality into your newly conceived World;
Trying to fit yourself into a newly conceived Reality.
All information is relevant and pertinent,
Although your filtering system is faulty -
It all relates, even though connections aren't made;
All those colours and sounds and improbable texts;
All those lyrics absorbed and randomly regurgitated;
All those shapes and serendipitous meetings,
Conspire to cement and contradict;
To fuel conspiracies and entrench coincidences.
However, these wondering wanderings
Have their price - and the cost is potentially lethal.
The thin veneer of civilization is threatened
By an unpredictable Actor searching unpredicted truths -
Eventually, a collision of Authority and self-empowered delusionist;
A collision of the socially endorsed and the socially disenfranchised;
A collision with only one survivor -
When you re-emerge from the Institution
You're changed; shattered, re-constructed and de-fused
For the Greater Beast that We call a Civil Society.
[Afterall, I've repeatedly maintained that War {even on the Conceptual Plane}
Is not a Legitimate Occupation, but a sometimes Necessary Evil to protect the Innocents and Idiots working for Our Simple Pleasures in the Essential Evil that is Life as We know it at Present. 10/3/2014]
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
Boring and rude?
That's a rich call, coming from you!
But rude I'll concede,
Given the circumstances -
You pester me with calls and texts,
And invade my private domain,
And won't listen when I say, "No" -
What would you expect?
That I'd be grateful towards
A drunken lush intruding my peace?
That I'd be receptive to a needy egoism
More entrenched than Catholic Dogma?
No, that is not my way - No!
You can get f**ked! And I told you -
I had to spend an hour
Convincing you I wasn't interested;
That your infatuation wasn't reciprocated;
That, when you're drunk, you're not worth knowing;
That I've heard of your glory days
And your present travails a million times;
That you can't offer me what I need -
A decent conversation, nor a decent *******
And I told you - I didn't pull punches;
I didn't lie - I wasn't playing games.
I told you in no uncertain terms
And you didn't like my Truths -
Perhaps they touched a nerve?
Rude? Sure, maybe I was,
But there was no other way
To sink these facts through your alcoholic haze.
As for boring - I'll not concede boring.
I may not lead an exciting life,
But boring? No - anything ****
You've a hide, when every conversation
Begins with an "I", "Me" or "My";
Anyone would think the World revolves around you!
You take egocentricism to a new level;
So self-involved and hard-done-by,
You feel the need to inflict yourself on others.
Adios, me amiga!
And, Hola, me Amigos!
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
I nod pleasantly,
Not absorbing anything -
The wash of pub chat.
Hard tales from hard lives,
Flowing freely; dredged up
As the beers sink down.
I am an island,
Sinking beneath a haze of
Alcohol - lost; alone.
So many pretty things -
So few opportunities
To consolidate!
An alcoholic
Re:lives his past endlessly,
But forgets the now.
Those maudlin souls weep
Into their beers and berate
Lives they have wasted.
In isolation
I observe; ignored, immune;
Free to contemplate.
Pub microcosms
Reflect society's woes
Better than the news.
Friends and foes alike
Are welcome at my table -
But they must behave!
The cute barmaids laugh
At my idiotic quips -
But none take me home!
Knob-jockey's posing
And idiots simpering -
Lonely souls fishing.
The popular seek
Fawns to flame their ego and cry
When bucks out grow them.
My own company
Can become stale, but at least
I'm not one of them!
Their contempt washes
Over me, but I'll survive -
Laughing all the way!
Do I appear as
These Others? Reliant on
Mates to make me cool?
I see the Cougar -
Self-proclaimed, but warranted -
Prowling for fresh meat.
The sounds of the World
Can break asunder against
My protective walls.
Much information,
Absorbed inadvertently
At the pub - Useless!
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 4:04 PM UTC
My room - womb:
Self-furnished surrogate;
Protective and exclusive;
Umbilically attached to the Other
Via electrons and electromagnetic waves,
Stimulating half-dead neurons;
Nourishing; pseudo-social life.
A womb - my room:
Self-imposed cocoon,
Refuge and retreat;
Amniotic psychic cushioning,
'Tissue-like; apathetic swaddling
Absorbing impacts of buck-shot cultures;
Allowing light mixed darkly - melancholy.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
What am I doing with my life?
Round and round these thoughts spiral -
Same old concerns, same old complaints;
Any ego left, nothing but remnants
Of something always fragile, never solid, never whole,
Down the rabbit hole again.
Doors close - do any open?
Am I chasing my tail, destined to fail?
Am I losing my mind, trying to be kind?
Are my pipe dreams hallucinogenic?'
Can I overcome these genetics?
Around the corner - who knows what?
Maybe I'll succeed, maybe I'll be shot?
Getting old without a rudder -
Makes me scared, makes me shudder.
In this whirlpool of doubt and self-loathing
I'm drowning - searching for answers, receiving nothing.
Pitiful words are an inadequate reflection
Of someone trying to communicate without a connection.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 2:33 PM UTC