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amy-bellsPoems
Internal poetry while doing Yoga. I don't mean practicing Yoga. I mean doing it. Writing, because although Yoga Calmed my racing thoughts And high electromagnetic frequency, Additional Judgmental, Highly observant, Rather foreign thoughts Are returning. The pirates pillaging Sanity within Are no match for the Ancient Indian And pre-Indian Yoga and poetry. In this day and age, Yoga is heraled For the stylish, revealing pants Used for practicing. As well as the many classes that reek of ego. Poetry, on the other hand, Has more or less gone obsolete. They killed all the poets. They have become replaced By social media Featuring those unsocialized with writing. Now, when I need to hear the wisdom Of a guiding angel, All I hear Is the pathetic language Of the less fortunate in poetic freethought. These discombobulated ghosts Haunt me When I hear far too many Voices And need stillness to compensate my illness. These voices of the day, I fear, Manipulate me in most unpleasant ways. And being thinker, as I am, Drawing conclusion and meaning From everything I can, A blessing and a curse -- Which, then again, are blessings nonetheless -- I cannot help but wonder If this is part of a plan. Orwell wrote of so not fifty years ago. The language now constantly spoken, As well as read, As well as written, Dumbing us down. Losing touch with words of wisdom In most trying of times. This is what happens when You **** off All the poets.
0
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 10:25 AM UTC
They Killed All The Poets
Internal poetry while doing Yoga. I don't mean practicing Yoga. I mean doing it. Writing, because although Yoga Calmed my racing thoughts And high electromagnetic frequency, Additional Judgmental, Highly observant, Rather foreign thoughts Are returning. The pirates pillaging Sanity within Are no match for the Ancient Indian And pre-Indian Yoga and poetry. In this day and age, Yoga is heraled For the stylish, revealing pants Used for practicing. As well as the many classes that reek of ego. Poetry, on the other hand, Has more or less gone obsolete. They killed all the poets. They have become replaced By social media Featuring those unsocialized with writing. Now, when I need to hear the wisdom Of a guiding angel, All I hear Is the pathetic language Of the less fortunate in poetic freethought. These discombobulated ghosts Haunt me When I hear far too many Voices And need stillness to compensate my illness. These voices of the day, I fear, Manipulate me in most unpleasant ways. And being thinker, as I am, Drawing conclusion and meaning From everything I can, A blessing and a curse -- Which, then again, are blessings nonetheless -- I cannot help but wonder If this is part of a plan. Orwell wrote of so not fifty years ago. The language now constantly spoken, As well as read, As well as written, Dumbing us down. Losing touch with words of wisdom In most trying of times. This is what happens when You **** off All the poets.
abp
#poetry#poet#illness#insanity#poets#language#voices#mania#philosophical#yoga
amy-bells
Written by
amy-bells
33/F/American
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 10:25 AM UTC
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