Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Phil B Sep 12
Humanity is restless in its pursuit of
pure, and unbiased comprehension.

But we are as blind as the ants,
Who navigate a pheromone soaked
sensation scape.
Only able to perceive perfume
trails, and the colour they emit.
Like the warm, hazy lights
of a carousel river steam boat,
They pass each other like
perfect strangers in the night.
Amidst the dark and misty waters
Unafraid to surrender trust
to the twinkling of an eye,
the faint smell of musky cigars
on collared shirts, or the
Incandescent shades of a lip.

We have yet to leave our ancestral
cave homes, full of mad desperation to
capture, define, and preserve the
fleeting forms of nature and it’s denizens.
Sand and ochre kicked up and splashed
in deeply passioned abandon,
as fingers raced and traced the earthy canvas,
Etching, marking, tracing and screaming.
Until, in the end, the exertion itself
is impressed into the rock-face wall.

Other, similar endeavours may well include,
The many voyages and explorations of
Early settlers and tribe folk,
in attempts to map the sprawling land masses,
from the tips of snowy doom filled mountain tops
down to the last measly grains of sand on distant coastlines.
And even now in the modern era,
The sky itself and the cosmos in its enormity,
Probed forever deeper, but never reaching
Its absolute depth.

The creating, and dividing, of art into
it’s multiple facets of genre and subject,
Always pushing outwards in the need,
yes, the very drive to express anything,
everything, and nothing at all.
Emotion itself made captive to
Staves of rhythmic and melodic
progression and regression.
to plumb the very essence of a note
would reveal a beyond Planck length
Spectrum of wave and particle,
Eternally ringing out into
The collective consciousness of the universe.

This isn’t a poem, so much as it
is a personal meditation into
The finite infinity we experience
From one moment, to the next.
Much like meaning, we can only
assign so much burden to a word,
only place so much faith in diction.
But that’s perfectly alright,
Because without ambiguity in
the shapes and forms of metaphors and simile,
We lose a sense of the PROFOUND.
The innate desire to find meaning,
in the most personal sense, in anything.

And really,
isn’t that the most beautiful thing
Ever?
Composed overwhelmed and in awe , of  everything, and nothing.
Poetry Sep 4
Flax blades
Howling birds
The tears of strangled mountains

Flip a coin
The land of the long white cloud
A sun so bright
The shadows are buried
7 feet below
Alongside those whose eyes
Were convinced
The coin only flipped one side
Suicide rates in New Zealand have doubled this year. Its a sad and tragic statistic that reflects kiwis struggle with mental health
Madhumita Apr 9
I don’t remember what it was that made me stop and think about the tendency of my thinking. But I remember how I felt when I had the epiphany that I had become, of all things, a hater. I realized, with a sinking feeling, that the things I hated far outnumbered the things I loved.  

Instead of saying that I loved the night, the moon and the stars, the placid silence, the comfort of solitude, and how some flowers smell better in the evening – I complained that I was not a morning person.  

I said I detested morning breath instead of saying that I loved running my tongue over my teeth after I had just brushed them. I moaned about hot weather more than the relief I found in the shade. So many pet peeves, so many inconsequential things marred my happiness.

I despised people who were quick to judge others. I was intolerant of intolerance. Unkind people irked me. I hated it when a friend came to me to speak ill of another friend. Why choose me? I did not want to be complicit in such duplicity. But I let it happen because I knew from experience that calling out problematic behaviour, especially with the people you know, serves no purpose other than souring your relationship. So, most of the times, I tried to simply extricate myself from the situation without engaging. But I fumed. I fumed about my powerlessness. And I hated the fact that despite loving them, I couldn’t like some people in my life.  

I used to joke about not knowing what I want in life but being sure about what I didn’t want. But I noticed too late that I kept adding to one list while ignoring the important one.

Now, I am trying to unlearn this rigid worldview as I grow. I am choosing gratitude for the good things in my life and not frustration at the things out of my control.
NaPoWriMo Day 9
Poetry form: Prose
Madison Aug 2018
Just when I think

I've known the world

I come to the realization

That I've only seen it

Through my own two eyes.

It eats at me

Though I shouldn't be bothered

And yet

I can't help but wonder why.

What do strangers see

When they watch my favorite film

And what do they hear

In their favorite songs?

What do others girl feel

When they knowingly fall in love

With someone

Who's stringing them along?

What do my parents know

When they look at the roads

They've walked down

Many more times than I?

What do babies think

When the world's so unknown

And they can only use their voices

To cry?

Where is the truth

In others' opinions

So very different from mine?

Where lies the inspiration

Of other writers

As they steadily type

Each line?

In the end

There's not much of a point

Unless reincarnation exists.

But frustration prevails

Knowing my eye's the limit

And my curiosity

You see

Persists.
I stand alone in the crowd
The only one who won’t go out
All alone in a wave
Of these people who only crave
To hear what puts on the fake smiles
And none of them go many miles
Before they realize
That dead gaze in their eyes
But they don’t care
They won’t give up the lies
So they bicker and fight
And I try and choose flight
But I get dragged down
I can’t breathe I begin to drown
I wake up in a cold sweat
Is this life over with yet?
This is just a poem about the world and how we view it and how it is viewed and maybe in it you can see what might be truth
cassie sky Aug 2017
You think you know until you don't
And then it all falls apart
Broke, busted and alone
Time for a whole 'nother start

Pick up all the mangled little pieces
Mold them into another shape
Smear some love into the creases
Pretend there's no escape

The places, they are always changin
And the view never stays the same
Every dripping bit of sin
To no avail could it be tamed

The itch will devour you entirely
Unless you learn how to see
With all of your different parts
And not just your ******* heart

You think you know, but you don't
And its all falling apart
Broke, busted and alone
Time for a whole 'nother start
Second song, sad girl music album is on its way in no time
Marye Minstrel Jun 2017
Here’s a true story:
I was walking home one day
You whistled over at me
But I didn’t look your way

“Hey Baby, turn those legs around”
Crossing the street, you looked me up and down
“C’mon, angel, let’s go get a drink”
But I returned a frown

I’m not your angel, baby
I won’t save your shallow soul
Didn’t hurt when I flew down from heaven
But it will when you rise from below

You can try to drag me down
But my wings burn to the touch
If you ask me what I think of you
I’ll reply “Not much.”

Don’t try to put me in my place
I’m soaring high above
Your ideas of my purpose
And I don’t need your love

I’m not your angel, baby
I won’t join your sultry soul
Didn’t hurt when I flew down from heaven
But it will if you crawl from below

I’m a strong, proud, woman
I was created to be free
I’m not yours for the taking, baby
See, I belong to me
A Lopez Apr 2016
The problem
With
Poli-
Tricks-
They mention every
"God"
But the only
God-
And they wonder
Why their lost in
Misery-
Ashamed
In darkness
Falls- evolution
In schools
Meaning no
(Morals)
Their standards
Are that
man's a
Monkey, using
Euthenics( reviving ******) in their
Man-made
Mural's.
Eat your cereal
Live life as if we have the
B
L
I
N
D
E
R
S
   ON-
Though my eye's are
Uncorrupted ( not seeing through misty nighttime glasses)
Breaking to the other
Side
Of the
Fog-


    Science correlates with dios
And dios with science-

Yet popular belief
Is a tool
Of diablo's
Machine.

Reaching into the dome
Of the great
City-

Where America
Is astray
With the globe
In the horned one's
Mean's.

Has the man who said
There is no
God
Just walked out into nature-

To see the spectacular
Creation
On a universal
Scale?

Yet their bucket's of
Disbelief have been
Shown beneathe the
Veil
Where the impious
Are stale
And their
aspiration
Is
None!
A Yorks Jun 2015
If you cannot find
A language that suits your thoughts,
Why not make your own?
Next page