Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
JP Goss 11h
The west seems impossible
Domestic country foreign
Left and right, up and down
Meet and aspect feint
As the universe turns miles fast
Beneath the laborless turn of the wrist,
A calm smile on my face belied by the whites
Of knuckles, eyes trained toward stars and dust betwixt.
I, a mote of solar stuff,
Hurtle past the known outstretched edge
Toward the center of my solar system.
It’s a challenge, a race, a pledge,
To outrun the dark recess
Too heavy for Apollo’s light,
In that impossible west—
Yes, far too massive
Far too massive
Far too massive.
Every move has reached its apex
Bourne tired on the fabric
Heavy lies its form
As I flex
Spreading over pillows, over sheets
And to the navy dour
Of home’s familiar door
Those moments shared by all,
Soft illuming like torches,
Move closer to the center
Where each affect glows like mothlight
On neighbor’s porches.
It gave me pause
For I thought nothing could escape
A blackhole
Once crossed that threshold reach.
Upon that event horizon I gave pause
And forced a humble laugh
To let what’s still
Lay besieged.
Lest it be him
Lest it be me
Looking back
Looking in
Over the veil where one as I cannot observe
Spreads sly reminders from the other end
That has inward turned:
The product will emerge rife
With absurd cosmic alchemy
Formed but missing name and birthright—
What shall we name him?
What shall we name him?
It’s clear these twisted do-overs
That one can only watch
Are responsibilities of life
O’er event horizon crossed
Despite the warnings shouted
The wishes to him I can’t observe,
To him standing, running still become
At best, vicious reforming features—
These turn to doubtful lines of reasoning
By childhood’s chimeral creatures
One can feel its phantom limb
One can hear the pseudonym
Left with little to identify:
So, what shall we name him?
What shall we name him?
Only fools, the crowd of past selves,
Headlong cross the event horizon
And follow north
The stone covered in moss
Till a once around the globe,
All upsides and down, sufficed,
Brings them to the river
They never cross twice,
Brings them to the river
They never cross twice,
Yet somehow repeats the past
As though it follows in tow
Renewed and dilated
In matter, in style forever cast.
No, this can never be, this dark flow
Looks back from impossible east
And returns to the future
With words of warning or of comfort
And all too hesitant,
The future is the memory
Of the past
Lived in the present.
When the wounds whistled me
into weary sleep, I dreamt
I had a cozy little corner of the universe
all to myself. The tune of your lips
puckered against the sky; I watched
as you kissed supernovas into life.

See I bloom so easily, sometimes.
Just purples and blues, maybe green
and some yellow if the star bursts
just right. Often, I have to sleep off
the black holes that rip through me.
Fizzling, I shoot across and fall

Into blessed bliss of ignorance.
Asleep, I see you there. We got ourselves
a nice little place in the stars,
where knuckle dusters cease to exist—
so it’s just space dust, quite magical.
You could make billions
of anything out of this. Eternal. Ethereal.
People spend souls for escapism.

Could you refund mine, actually?
It’s kind of cold up here, now I’ve
stopped dreaming. I kind of
miss feeling the breath fill my lungs.
I sort of want to go home again.
You drifted from my orbit. I think
I miss you.
“got me a nice little place in the stars” is a line from a song called “Grow Up” but i have no idea whose version is the original.
anyhow, i’ve wanted to write that into something for ages and i finally did it so credit where credit is due. the rest of the words are mine.
Anticipating the absolute worst.
Needing to escape the situation.
Xanax isn’t a pure solution.
Isolation becomes worse with time.
Everything seems out of control.
Taming abnormal fear by recognition.
Yoga is very a therapeutic approach.
An acrostic poem.
What is life,
If not a big, hot, stinking mess?
It's not even a normal mess;
It's a mess you think you created,
Even though you didn't.

What is love,
If not a big, hurtful, ***** trap?
It's not even a normal trap;
It's a trap you think you fell in deliberately,
Even though you didn't.

What is home,
If not a lonely, sometimes scary place?
It's not even a normal scary place;
It's a place you think you're stuck in for eternity,
Even though you aren't.

What is fate,
If not a made up thing for feeble minds?
It's not even a normal made up thing;
It's a thing you think is real, very real,
Even though it's not.

What is ***,
If not the opposite of science?
He's not even a normal opposite of science;
He's something that even all scientists believe in,
Even though they know He doesn't exist.

What is reality,
If not a humongous, believable illusion?
It's not even a normal illusion;
It's something we all live in, and believe in,
Even though we don't.
These are some questions that keep bugging me throughout the day. The answers may be conflicting with someone else's, but then again, they're my answers , not theirs.
I am not who I am!
I have a body, but am I the body?
I have a mind, but am I the mind?
I have an ego, but am I the ego?
Who is the me that I am?

Am I a butterfly? No that’s not me.
Am I a bee? No that’s not me.
Am I a tree? No that’s not me.
I am me!
Who is the me that I am?

I am not who I think I am
I am an Indian – No, that's my nationality
I am a Hindu – No, that's my religion
I am a male – No, that's my gender
I am not who I think I am!

I am not my car
I know what I am not
I am not my house
I know what I am not
What I am not, I know
But I know not who I am

I have eyes that can see
But the eyes are not me
I have limbs that can walk
But it's not me who does the talk
These are mine, but not me
Who is the me that I am?

I am not the Ego
That’s my identity
I am not the body and mind
That’s not ME
I am the Holistic Energy
I am “HE”
I am not the ‘I’ that I thought I was
Who am I? I know who I am.
Chicken or egg - what came first?
Can't find an answer that will quench my thirst.
“Of course,” said the chicken, “it was me.
Without me, how could the egg ever be?”
This question goes round, and round and round,
But to most, the answer is never found!

For without the chicken can an egg be laid?
“And how could there be a chicken without me?” the egg said.
This question was asked but found no answer for years…
Till a wise man solved the mystery with wisdom and tears.

“Neither was the egg first, nor was it the chicken.
The plan for this story was hatched in heaven.
That nothing in this world shall be a creation.
Everything that we see is but a manifestation.”

“What do you mean?” said someone with a scream.
“Nothing is real! Is everything just a dream?”
The wise man answered, ”Yes that is true.
Both appeared together, everything is a myth –nothing is true!”

The next time you are asked the question, “What came first?
Was it the tree or the seed that came first?”
Don't go in circles, round and round.
For the answer to the question will never be found!
I searched for *** in temples
But nowhere was He found
I looked into the skies and waters
And everywhere on the ground

To me, *** was a statue
I prayed to Him for years
I was in love with my Lord
And I used to pray with tears

I thought *** lived in the temple
It was Heaven in every way
I used to talk to my Saviour,
Morning, night, all day

*** gave me everything I wanted
There was nothing more to need
I used to be ashamed of myself
When I looked upon my greed

I had everything I wanted
But one thing I never found
I was looking for the *** I prayed to.
Wanting to hear His sound

One day it dawned upon me
What is life’s real test?
To find true purpose and meaning,
I set out on a quest

I started studying the scriptures
In religion for Him I found
I went for many pilgrimages
Just going round and round

Who is ***? Where is ***? What is ***?
This quest did I start
I had nothing else to desire
There was only one thing in my heart

I decided that I will not stop
My passion, I must find
I was willing to give up everything
There was only one thing in my mind

What use was the wealth that I earned?
What use was this pomp and show?
I knew my life wasn’t forever
I knew one day, I will go

I knew I was living in ignorance
The truth I couldn’t see
I was seeking happiness
But in peace, I could not be!

The world talks so much about ***
But little do we know
*** is such an amazing power
This cosmos is His show

The Sun, the Moon, the Stars
The Birds, the Animals, the Flowers
They are just manifestations
Of the one and only Power!

We think our goal is happiness
And pleasures do we seek
So shallow is our passion
We never reach the peak

We may get everything we desire
We may achieve all we dream
But if we can’t realize ***
Then our life is without a gleam!

The purpose of life is to find ***
We must realize the truth
We must realize what we are not
Only then, we will get to the root

A few of us are lucky
We start seeking ***
We give up everything else that we have
Because we are in love with the Lord!

All cannot find the Master
It depends on His Grace
A few of us are lucky
To finally see His face

Not in temples, churches or mosques
Neither in Scriptures, you tear apart
Those who truly love Him
Will find Him inside their heart

*** is Everything, Everywhere
He manifests as You and Me
He is the Cause and we just Effects
Without Him, we cannot be

*** defined is *** denied
We must believe that he lives
He is beyond our comprehension
But He is the One who gives

This is a Cosmic Drama
The Earth just a big stage
We are all just actors
We perform till we age

Then one day, the time will come
We have to pack and go
When Death will take over life
It’s the end of the show

Who, Where, What is ***?
Don’t question, just have faith
Try to realize the Truth
Then you will reach the gate!

When you find what you are not
And the truth stares at your face
Then in your own heart, you will find
The Heavenly Master’s grace
Life is a mystery ‑ We can’t track its history
It may seem to start at birth and seem to end at death
But what seems to be life’s end…
is but a bend to transcend

Body, mind and soul are what make life whole
But then comes death and we lose our breath
We mistake Happiness to be life’s goal
Until we realize – No! We must liberate our Soul

The saddest thing is we don’t know the meaning of Life
We live and we die with sadness and strife
We want this and that to be Happy and Glad
But we end up being miserable, greedy and sad

Life is a journey ‑ Like a river, we must flow
From *** we came and to *** we must go
Life is a Drama ‑ we desire and we crave
But nothing will be ours when we go to the grave

We foolishly think we are the body and mind
Till we get the “Aha”, we are the soul we find
We don’t know where we came from and don’t know where we will go
The Goal of Life is to reach the other shore

Most people don't live life; they just seem to exist
The cravings of the body, they just can't resist
They are so busy, no time to go on a quest
To find out who we truly are, putting life to a test

Of course, we are not the body - in the end, it will die
Are we the mind and ego? No, at death, they will fly
We are the Life Energy that departs at death...
We are the life itself that gives us our breath

We live in ignorance; the truth we don't find
We forget that we are the soul, not the body and mind
The *** that we seek in a temple or a church
Lives inside our own hearts - a place we don't search

We are not this, not this....we are that!
Not the body, not the mind, the soul, in fact
The purpose of life is to realise this Goal -
We are not the body and mind. We are the Soul!
Even though
I have reached you
After many births
My task is unfinished,
I have not found you yet;
I do not know your marks,
No one has told me.
Should I wait?
I have heard
You are your surroundings,
Everyone’s feelings and emotions,
And dreams and thought
Concealed may be
By the inobservable haze
Of sunlight
As an ultrathin mist
Or a ray of the softest light.
When will I find you?
Perhaps, when I too
Am a vague apparition
Like you.
Put the weight of the world;
that is chained to your ankle;
where it now belongs.

It is not if you are strong; it is not if you are wrong; it is not if you manage to play along.

The carousel keeps spinning;
not the fairest kind;  
Though, does it need to be?

It is not if you are strong; it is not if you are wrong; it is not if you manage to play along.

The theatre of life continues its one-act—will you perform?
The theatre of life continues its piece— I only came for your song.

Freedom and a crown;
duties and vows;
a fate messy and blind.

It is not if you are strong; it is not if you are wrong; it is not if you manage to play along.

A single little home;
found by chance;
where you can sing tunes of your own.

It is not if you are strong; it is not if you are wrong; it is not if you manage to play along.

The theatre of life continues its one-act—will you perform?
The theatre of life continues its piece— I only came for your song.

The theatre of life continues its one-act—will you perform?
The theatre of life continues its piece— I only came for your song.

It was never about if you are strong;
it was never about if you are wrong.

Choose your own lines; choose your own dress; choose your own way to act in this mess.

The theatre of life continues its performance—and you are the acting star.
Next page