#skepticism poems on Hello Poetry

Arif Hifzioglu May 5

I know who you are,
          but I don’t exactly know
          who you are to me, so
do I really know who you are?

I know who I am,
but I don’t exactly know
          who I am to you,
          nor even may I know
          who I am to myself, so
do I really know who I am?

I know what I feel,
           but I don’t really know
           what I know about what I feel, so
do I feel what I feel?

I know what I see,
          but I don’t really see
          what I know, so
do I see?

I hear what the world says,
          but I can’t hear
          what I say, so
do I hear anything at all?

I walk my own steps,
          but I don’t know
          where the road ends, so
am I really going anywhere?

I know why the sun sets
and why falls the night,
          but I don't know
          why there isn't another

rosy return      rosy return      rosy return

          for the mere man, so
is he all about the night
and his life but a dream?

What do I know of the things I know?
What do I see in the world I see?
What do I know of the things I feel?
Where do I walk to if it’s just a dream?

          And if it’s a dream,
          whose dream may it better be?

05/05/2025
Hirondelle

I marvel at how differently each of us may see certain things in life and accordingly have different feelings about it. I marvel a lot more at how people spend hours engaged in some petty talk whose script is quite predictable. It is bizarre that this could be happening in a world where uncertainty is the only certainty and change is the only constant in life.

It is no wonder, you will find some other people drawn to a solitary corner enjoying the 'skepticism party' in their heads. They are more often devoid of human company at this wild party, popping their own champagne and spilling taste and color on the ever-changing reality. What is party to the skeptic is discomfort and trouble for the nonchalant. The latter will prefer some small talk under a superscript.

For me life is beautiful, for it offers us plenty of riddles and a clever mind will relish this plethora of choices. Prescriptive texts, however, ruin the party transforming the thinker into a believer, converting the traveler into a waiter. With all the questions answered, there is no party for the believer. With all the treat put on the tray, they will suddenly find themselves holding the snack tray to others enjoying the party thinking that they are still a guest.

So, whose party, whose dream?

#consciousness #epistemology #camusian #existentialism #skepticism

Gideon Mar 8

60/8 "God’s Children"

We are bugs under his shoes.
Not a loved child, in terrible two’s.
Disobedient children couldn’t be so far.
We are grains of sand, and he is a star.
Trample our cities under his feet.
We believe he loves us, an epic conceit.
So full of ourselves, we hope he will serve us.
We pray for glory, success, and surplus.

#christianity #skepticism #atheism #prayer

Zelda Nov 2024

Temples

Agnostic
wandering temples,
wondering how the stone still stands—
cracked and worn,
weathered by storms,
by wars,
by careless hands that pass through.

It’s like a labyrinth you can’t
exist in—
feel the hedges,
understand the spirits,
quiet the noises,
balance the highs and lows.

The soul—what is it?
A natural remedy is still just a remedy.

A waste of time.
We both know it—
it’s not meant to be.

Pragmatic
never believed in happily ever after;
you did the math—
and it ends with a soft sound,
the closing of the temple door,
a coin flip
We hit the ground.

If I had a nickel for every
“Meeting you was destiny,”
oh, but was it?
If I had a nickel for every
“You deserve to be happy,”
oh, but do I?

We’re two sides of the same coin,
a dream, a folktale,
a close call.
We both know it—
it’s not meant to be
We hit the ground.

Skeptic
All the sharp turns,
all the downhill spirals,
all the A.M. conversations—
you tell me,
"We'll get through it"

You held me with your voice,
But the edge cuts

Oh, the way you swore
“We’ll get it right this time.”

I’d rather
mix ***** with water,
enough to turn my blood to wine—
Let's just not debate our religion
in temples.

There is no solace
When we're agnostic, pragmatic, skeptics

We both know it—
just another close call,
wasn’t meant to be.

I only wanted to know your love,
not wander through temples.

#poetry #love #skepticism #faith #agnosticism #relationships #philosophy #heartbreak #introspection #wandering

Francis Oct 2023

Water Your Own Grass

Someone told me,
To water my own grass,
But what they neglected to mention,
Is that my grass is crass.

This is due to my unfortunate past,
Every minute spent kissing ***,
To be walked on and trampled by,
Boots and heels of brass.

So no, I will most certainly not,
Water my own grass,
The thoughts and evaluations,
Of the judgment I pass,
Is necessary and voluntary,
In a sea of largemouth bass.

Another poem about judgment of character since I’m always in defense.

#judgment #standards #morals #selfworth #selfrespect #skepticism #cynicism #people #psychology #humanity

Francis Oct 2023

Third Eye

The third eye,
Is a bird’s eye,
View on a hurt guy,
Within a dirt life.

Since first flight,
Cut with a big knife,
By Dad and his wife,
Who gave me life.

What hurt Dad?
Who hurt Dad’s wife?
So much strife,
In this foul scented life.

Bitterness so rife,
In these brown eyes,
Since all that I,
Know is to,
Trust that third eye.

I tell myself to stop psychoanalyzing people for my own sanity but sometimes I think my intuition comes from experience and it all comes naturally.

#trust #skepticism #people #analysis #psychology #experience

lucidwaking Jul 2022

Existential crisis in sweaty latex

85 degrees farenheit and counting -
A sweltering wave of heat.
It filled and fogged my mind,
As I laid supine on the bathroom floor.
I stared at the ceiling and wondered if
god still loved ***** sinners.
I then questioned if whether he did or not
Even mattered at all.

I had tied myself up in straps,
Just to forget my body for a little while.
I had spat in the face of celibacy,
Only to find that the face was my own.
Looking back at that face, I contemplated on
Just how dastardly my actions supposedly were.
Reaching in my chest, I shifted and searched,
Trying to find the sin...
But nothing surfaced.

Old draft I wrote last year and wanted to add more to, but couldn't think of anything else to say with it, so I figured I'd just post it

#freeverse #freeform #existential #religion #skepticism #sexuality

Brent Kincaid May 2018

THE DIALECTIC SKEPTIC

My life is such that
Had I heard the voice
From a burning bush,
I am sure I would not
Have liked what it said.
I would have been ready
With lengthy arguments
Of science and history
And philosophy instead.

If some white stuff fell
From the sky above me
I would accept the reality
That it was global warming
A miraculous warning
Even the evangelicals
Would not find equivocal
As it fit both categories;
Both scientific and glory.

The parting of the sea?
Maybe a big conglomerate
One more time yet that
They made a decision
To make an incision
In the scenery and jam
Into place a lucrative dam.
Not such a big miracle to
Render atheists miserable.

I understand the loaves
And the miracle of fishes
But, I have seen some
Of McDonald’s dishes
And sacks full of food
Brewed and cooked
From nothing much
And they don't much look
Like the animaLs they are
Supposed to be from.
I’m not that dumb.

#skepticism #religion #miracles #humor #poetry #kincaid

matthew scott harris Mar 2018

THIS IZ NOT THE POEM

that will neither revolutionize whorled wide web,
   nor pollinate like fecund human loam
viz - it mine neurological nuances here
   within Schwenksville, Pennsylvania,

   my present home,
town pulsating with
   so called "butterfly effect" ineluctably
fluttering microscopically
   like dust motes or invisible foam

(bell leave me) metamorphosed
   mental whim, within cranial dome
(in valise case body electric)
   covered in 50 + nine slim shades
   of gray streaked brown dread fully medium
   length lockets i rarely comb,

   boot food for thought to set literary stage
before affixing my poetic missive -
   from this word wrangler,
   hoof hinds himself dumbfounded

   at **** bang of years cuz - just yesterday
   aye remembered being a boy,
   now i yam more than
   half a century since birth didst age.

without further ado
i offer literary missives enclosed
   within this body politic spooked
   me playful teenage inner child goes "boo"
fur ye to ponder and brew

of his small bread box sized lil motley crue
two daughters due
tee flapped wings, and flew the coop
whereby aye resemble offspring hybrid
   ostrich crossed with an emu,

whose deux progeny sired from personal
   super reproductive goo
swimming swiftly in
   harried styled, swiftly taylor made
   viscous tailored tulle lord hue

carrying miniature bin - laden
   genetic heritage predominantly Jew
wish with one late uncle Sam,
   who preferred to be called cra debt lou
who himself happened to be,

   a milch cow frequent moo
wing for bare naked lady gaga friend
   winnie mandy della pooh,
which induced inxs doth rue
what comprises Darwinian

   Origin of Species to be true
evolutionary biologists versus
   Bible thumping creationists claim
   with tangible proof as their view
perchance includes you
this chimp bull leaves humans
   originated from primate zoo.

NOW **** THE MOMENT TO PREPARE TO SCRUTINIZE
MY WRITTEN ATTEMPT AND HOPE MY OFFERTORY
DISTINCT FROM OTHER GALS N GUYS.

thankful to enjoy genesis of thoughts
from whence doth spring germ
of an idea, that either takes root
(exhibiting potential to live with
arms strong) when just a tender

vulnerable shoot (ephemeral as notes
issuing from a magic flute)
within fifty plus shades of gray matter
per this fifty plus year ole coot?

This need dull in haste tack
search for source that gave rise
per process to enable **** sapiens
to think doth nag horse sense
of this poet as he initially digs shallow,

yet sometimes forced to spelunk
into crawl space narrow and shallow,
or shine laser focus into a chasm
teetering on brink (hunting down

gamesome elusive dodging catlike whims)
out pace readied whorled wide net
to capture alive agile rat fink unseen
quiet as a mouse notion gives hardy fellow
(quite a chase) scurrying thru micro
cosmic burrow of Manhattan skyscrapers

at a blink, said quarry vanishes
without a trace just as quick mental cogs
and wheels generated riveting link
connecting bot sized tinker toys pinging

within cerebral cortex appearing random
as nonsequiturs conscious kinks via
distracting ability to latch onto awesome
fleeting mindspace inducing minor frustration
at lack of ability to nab (albeit painlessly)

zinc shimmering insight cognizant ability
likened to ode to Grecian urn vase frieze
depicting ever closely captured thought
process, cuz lifespan shorter than a wink
king third eye blind comfortably numb beatle browser.

#skepticism #runs #amuck