#aporia - Hello Poetry

Aporia in the morning, without a way to you, Lost lonely spaces not a path a wrecking crew The kind of doubt that opens a door unknown Uncertain, Socrates asks us, weeds overgrown, A bubble pops, fragile soft tender, on the edge Everything collapses stops hammer of a sledge Complex, uncentered, imbalanced, & off-kilter, Take a pause eternal we are both right a wrong Something's not quite right a flat note in a song Embrace a tension, wear me in the layered fold, An answer lies beyond us a naked truth untold In beauty, instability, where all our failures fail, Disequilibrium unsettled, where dreams unrail, Frazzled in limbo breathe in our questions now Koan me in the stillness a riddle churns a plow, Block my only doorway turn and slide into you I notice all the small things lie with me in a few, We feel a barefoot moment shape in us too deep Think of letting go, in all the broken places seep.

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Feb 28

Feb 28, 2026 at 9:49 AM UTC

DarrellBaughn

Aporia in the Morning

Aporia in the morning, without a way to you, Lost lonely spaces not a path a wrecking crew The kind of doubt that opens a door unknown Uncertain, Socrates asks us, weeds overgrown, A bubble pops, fragile soft tender, on the edge Everything collapses stops hammer of a sledge Complex, uncentered, imbalanced, & off-kilter, Take a pause eternal we are both right a wrong Something's not quite right a flat note in a song Embrace a tension, wear me in the layered fold, An answer lies beyond us a naked truth untold In beauty, instability, where all our failures fail, Disequilibrium unsettled, where dreams unrail, Frazzled in limbo breathe in our questions now Koan me in the stillness a riddle churns a plow, Block my only doorway turn and slide into you I notice all the small things lie with me in a few, We feel a barefoot moment shape in us too deep Think of letting go, in all the broken places seep.

19

Different Place Different Time Same script, Same lines Lonely souls and one alone Bound in Breadth, but not in depth Similar in Vein but not in kind but Similar enough in my mind The math says I'm bound to find others Others who resonate and hear my frequency "It's a numbers game" I tell myself- Over and over until I go under. There must be others Erased by the system and from Existence; the cracks multiply and leaks grow until their tsunami is contained in teacup. But what if outliers are still syncratic Why do I leak aporia over and over again?

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May 25, 2025

May 25, 2025 at 4:40 PM UTC

Thrushwing

Drink of Aporia (Bones of Ghosts pt 1)

Different Place Different Time Same script, Same lines Lonely souls and one alone Bound in Breadth, but not in depth Similar in Vein but not in kind but Similar enough in my mind The math says I'm bound to find others Others who resonate and hear my frequency "It's a numbers game" I tell myself- Over and over until I go under. There must be others Erased by the system and from Existence; the cracks multiply and leaks grow until their tsunami is contained in teacup. But what if outliers are still syncratic Why do I leak aporia over and over again?

17

When you look, what is it that you see? I don't think you see what I do, yet you might try and tell me that it is so, but the way you read the signs is so blind to the splendor, the extravagance of what is there. I find no evidence you see what I see. Soon my luminous world grows dark as the shadows of yours seek to ground what should be in flight, make cynical of all potential light. Why must the world be cast into black and white when there is so much color? You think it safe to bind yourself within the safety of your rules, afraid to venture out, step outside the here and now, outside this room, this building, this city, this country. Within this world erase the boundaries, erase the lines, and realize what lives sure enough dies. That's what makes it so beautiful, aporia In attoraxic duress, we are merely consciousness, outside the blood and the flesh, outside the vessel. For the universe needed something, so now, I observe it, someone had to take notice. Thus, it was given to us to take it and shape it, make it the wonderful place in which we think we can only imagine. Imagine how if we tried to see the potential, the possibilities, released the hate, the anger, the cynicism. We limit ourselves but I don't want to feel the constraints anymore, I'm ready to be, I'm ready to exist, to flourish, to find beauty in simplicity, to imagine, to create, to wonder, to let go of the urge to know and to embrace the infinite possibilities.

0

May 22, 2018

May 22, 2018 at 3:27 PM UTC

Ballads-of-a-philosopher-poet

Appended Streams

When you look, what is it that you see? I don't think you see what I do, yet you might try and tell me that it is so, but the way you read the signs is so blind to the splendor, the extravagance of what is there. I find no evidence you see what I see. Soon my luminous world grows dark as the shadows of yours seek to ground what should be in flight, make cynical of all potential light. Why must the world be cast into black and white when there is so much color? You think it safe to bind yourself within the safety of your rules, afraid to venture out, step outside the here and now, outside this room, this building, this city, this country. Within this world erase the boundaries, erase the lines, and realize what lives sure enough dies. That's what makes it so beautiful, aporia In attoraxic duress, we are merely consciousness, outside the blood and the flesh, outside the vessel. For the universe needed something, so now, I observe it, someone had to take notice. Thus, it was given to us to take it and shape it, make it the wonderful place in which we think we can only imagine. Imagine how if we tried to see the potential, the possibilities, released the hate, the anger, the cynicism. We limit ourselves but I don't want to feel the constraints anymore, I'm ready to be, I'm ready to exist, to flourish, to find beauty in simplicity, to imagine, to create, to wonder, to let go of the urge to know and to embrace the infinite possibilities.

7