#solipsism
I'm a wayward wayfarer
People see my explicitness
My connotations
remain
obscure.
Sep 17, 2021
Sep 17, 2021 at 3:10 AM UTC
"I see."
"Said the blind man to his deaf wife,
sitting at a round table, trying
to find a corner."
-Frustrating words from my first girlfriend
~
It's funny how as I age the layers of irony get wiped away
while building up again like waves.
Stability I crave seems at odds
with cosmic horror I face.
Weeping with a whole soul
or is it laughter?
In the intensity "I" tend towards confusion.
I mention this to my mother and she knows not
of ambiguous sounds. The fusion of emotion
suffering in our translation.
Do we differ
or are we lost;
Embracing simulacra while our true selves wander alone?
Wondering.
The child peeks past a mask or two and gets spooked.
Out of love I withdraw inside nativity.
I am here with you.
Talking to ourselves.
May 1, 2021
May 1, 2021 at 8:05 PM UTC
anything is possible. i don't mean this in a good way.
will you look at me while i'm talking?
not like that.
i know you are.
i want you to see me. i want you to keep up.
i could go completely ******* crazy.
i could never speak to any of my friends ever again.
i could join a fundamentalist christian cult.
i could drop out of college.
i could look into the mirror and see my own eyes reflected back to me, or gouge them out to be free of the burden. i could do anything, but it's all a matter of actualization.
you have to know what you're looking for
before you go out to find it.
the story the eyes try to sell you is always leaving something out.
you want this to be easy. you want the mirror to have a purpose.
don't we all?
you want to know what you want, but we are all stumbling blindly through this desert.
alone despite being inches from one another.
i'll try not to get too cocky,
because the only difference between you and me
is concept, language;
life is a whole other beast to cage.
don't get too hung up on definitions.
definitions are for law. this is poetry.
this is me building a mirror just to break it.
it's funny, how that always turns out.
realized desires are boring.
we get what we want
and we break it.
every mirror shatters in the end
and we all die a solipsist,
wanting and narcissistic.
Feb 10, 2021
Feb 10, 2021 at 10:02 PM UTC
In a universe where nothing could be everything
and everything could be nothing
I wake up blinded by the sun and my weak eyes struggle to conform
but her power desires me
In a universe where silence can ring ears
and actual sirens can calm them
My engine rustles with promise as I drive down the unpaved road
I am cement, and spill out of my windows into the potholes as I pass
Shadows of trees fold over behind me as outlines of roofs emerge
one day I’ll drive and count them all
In a universe where we worship time
but it repays by pilfering our youth
I make out silhouettes through the strands of my ***** hair
Your tie taunts me, perched confidently on the base of your neck
My fears in the flesh, enveloped in dark eyes and strong posture
one day I’ll face him eye to eye
In a universe where we long for love
but company deludes us
I eat dinner alone at a table for six
and stare longingly through one of my three big windows
My mom probably called but my phone’s been on silent
one day I’ll get free time and call her back
In a universe where nothing could be everything
and everything could be nothing
My pillow steals my thoughts for the closing hours of the night
and I ponder on how much of me it’ll return when I wake up in the morning
Solipsism
(10.16.2020)
—adrianatamara
Dec 24, 2020
Dec 24, 2020 at 10:07 AM UTC
You're ugly from an angle
You don't reflect enough
Your choices are so loud
Yet they still lack any sound
I'm not so Ptolemaic
You're not a Galilean
I'm not at all judgmental
I am honest. Maybe humble
You're weak below the knees
You're smug and overweight
You don't respect advice based on the mouth from which it came
I'm walking alongside you
I choose to be so close
It might be most absurd but know I love you more than most
Nov 24, 2020
Nov 24, 2020 at 11:14 AM UTC
one day i took lsd
my famished soul drank in all it could see
i sought answers, maybe god
but horror upon horror was all that i got
i woke up to the realization that
i was responsible for everything bad
guilt and pain and fear consumed me
beaten down by my ego's contumely
the mind is truly a wicked place
it can twist your world, contort your face
staring down the devil, the reflection in his eyes
gives away the mirror upon which his visage relies
t'was myself i feared the most
the ephemeral glimpse of a lurking ghost
the screams from hell echoing near
but they existed nowhere beyond my ear
Oct 20, 2019
Oct 20, 2019 at 3:20 AM UTC
It's your problem when you disregard God's voice, not mine.
No matter how you "perceive" it, the reality of the state of those suffering whom you callously disregard, saying "all is well" in your unloving indifference, remains unchanged.
Sep 19, 2019
Sep 19, 2019 at 6:16 PM UTC
-Sitting in empty places
Tempus fugit ad infinitum
Galactic seas beaming on starlight yet seem empty
Everything seems empty
Inwardly directed infinitely
Empty space is-
Aug 6, 2019
Aug 6, 2019 at 2:15 PM UTC
momentary clarity
seeing i’m human after all
grandeur drowned in mortality
i am all totality
i’m nothing at all
yes, feeling small
the largest of feelings
the hardest for telling
foretelling my futures
complexity looming
chaos consuming
hope always blooming
at the last minute
not done till i’m finished
never give up the ghost
just because you’ve lost hope
over the horizon
fixing my eyes again
flesh spirit battle weary
soul, hold me, onward dreary
love, you’re a mystery
a curse and a gift to me
the wind that keeps lifting me
the waves always drifting me
connected to feeling
in body, in realness
ethereal madness
fading some, can i grasp this
can you grasp?
i don’t ask this
my last breath, my life passed then
never to ask when
in an age, in an afternoon
breath fleeting leaving soon
inspiration the gentle moon
good night sweetly gripping me
i am all totality
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 1:29 AM UTC
If only your mind were to be sure to exist,
Wouldn't you be destined to be forever lonely ?
Everything you know and learned to love would simply be an extention of your very own consciousness, your psyche,
The fabric of this reality would be nothing but a fantasy,
That of course, might be a wishful thinking to some, however,
With the harsh fate would come a worse realization,
Abandoned, layered upon a dusty tone, the fabric of your mind,
If you then were to suddenly just shut down your conscious,
Even your own reality would cease to exist further,
Such thing could never be, but be sure not to forget,
Everyone lives depending on mostly their knowledge and awareness and we call this " reality ", however,
Both knowledge and awareness are aquivocal,
That means one's reality might be anothers illusion
So how can we really be sure, to exist ?
~ Umi
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 8:17 AM UTC
I wish that all mirrors could be windows,
Having had quite enough introspection.
I want to live in the world the world knows,
The world that is more than my reflection.
Trapped behind walls seeing nothing but me,
These mirrors have cost me my perspective.
If I’m all there is, who am I to be?
Solipsism is no man’s objective.
I peer through the glass right back into my face.
I don’t even know if I’m seen behind.
Windows are mirrors to the human race,
But the reflection in mine makes me blind.
I wish that all mirrors could be windows,
But scared the world won’t like what I expose.
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 9:42 PM UTC
I can break the laws of the universe
It's true
Everybody can
Everybody has
_Even you!_
It happens in a special place that exists in the peripherals of your mind
When you look for it it hides
When you think about it it ceases to exist
And you can never find it
But you visit it almost every night
_This space is the brink of your subconscious!_
_The space between worlds and realities!_
_A singularity, where physical law is a mirage!_
On the nights we sleep but don't dream, we visit this place
It's between the day's last conscious thought and the following's first
In this space hours past in faster than an instant
There is no body, soul or mind
There is no void
There is no colour
There is no concept of empty
_Pure, absolute nothing!_
In this space, the entire universe ceases to exist
We wake the next morning with no recollection.
We know objectively that time has passed,
And eventually the feeling of our temporary transcendence fades
And we carry on without asking
This happens to all of us,
On nights you sleep, but don't dream
And in that space
You can break the laws of the universe
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
we have both made mistakes.
everyone makes mistakes.
i want to learn with you.
you were often kind but not always.
— N O V A | s o l i p s i s m
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 1:40 PM UTC
There are so many things about myself
that I don’t think I will ever understand -
like the way I let the most trivial things bother me
and give them indefinite permission to send me
spiraling downward
until I become oblivious as to why I felt so
******* petulant in the first place.
And I unknowingly settle into my misery,
because it feels like home.
Or how I’m constantly offering wisdom beyond my years
(or so I’ve been told)
but I can never seem to take my own advice.
And I’ve always found it ironic
that I could sleep an entire day away,
but am met with restlessness and anxiety
when I’m attempting to sleep at night.
I’ve heard it said that no one knows you
the way you know yourself,
but I just can’t agree.
I don’t understand myself at all,
but maybe someone else does.
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 7:05 PM UTC
Today I caught myself watching the clock, tirelessly counting
seconds, minutes, and moments; for in that short time it was clear,
I am here.
But how much of me?
The blood coursing through my veins, feeding my flesh,
feels thick and real; but is it just a projection, my perception
of BEING?
Could it be that my outward senses are nothing more than
a coping mechanism, a tether if you will,
meant to keep my mind still and my body grounded?
When released from my dermal prison, will my consciousness escape me,
or will it rise up free with no boundary?
Perhaps we are sturdy and real, something I can feel,
something to grasp.
Or, perchance, we’re merely a cloud of energized matter, buzzing madly
through time and through space.
An imaginary face, nothing more.
Although the latter leaves a bittersweet taste on my fictitious tongue,
now to me it is clear. This isn’t so much a poem about
Clarity,
as it is a poem about questions.
Question.
Because if the cold ceased to bite, and the bee never stung,
would I be someTHING, or would I be someONE?
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 8:38 PM UTC
What is it that stops us from questioning
the scaffolding of our reality?
Why aren't more of us solipsists?
Shouldn't we all be like those
delusional violent ones?
They see no reason
to think the world exists
outside their heads
Therefore their thoughts influence
their reality more and more
All of our thoughts
influence the reality
We sense to a varying degree
unique to each of us
But do we really all, for the most part
believe some ho-hum passivity?
Oh, what pressures magnetize our brains
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 6:52 AM UTC
Philosophical epistemology strumming adventures
Albeit, coherent mental decoding stratifications structured
Supposedly our world rests in our minds, revolving knowledge
An entwine of conceptual abstract flowing within oneself
The mind in the “I” the “I” a reality lived in my experiences
George of Leontini, a mine mind approving solipsism exploring innatism
Imaginative insights that nothing exists, the secrets secreting secrets
The knowledge behind the veils that remains un-communicated
A reverse of normality and known existences, moral disposition
Hypothesis of depersonalizations, adventures of self internalization
Justifications for what lies outside the Medulla Oblongata
Skepticism and just alternatives to western philosophy
Subjective unapproved experiences only robust in one’s mind
Descartes abstraction of inner experiences, reciprocated paradigm
Intuitively, perceived lived formulations of "Cogito Ergo Sum"
Psychological conscious undoubted individualistic thoughts
Berkley explored perspectives that physicality is an embodiment of the mind
The mind a decoding visualizer, that encompass the non-existent
An idealism marriage of ‘metaphysical’ and epistemological philosophy
The intense esoteric “dualism” verses the fiery “monism” reality
Mind boggling differentiated truths bleeding with blinking unresolvable hypothesis
The jiggered methodological, streamlining the un -logic sequential beats
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
He asks himself,
To ask himself:
“What’s self-referential humour?”
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 2:25 PM UTC
Chaotic and hectic
To deal with people around me
Can’t cope with this frenzy
Perhaps in solitude I’ll be free
They talk, they deduce
It isn’t helping cos it’s just a ruse
So clouded by the spree
In solitude alone, I can see
I want to talk, and sing too
Not much, just a word or two
Don’t need an audience please
Talking in solitude, that’s me
Don’t push me to the rim
With thoughts just so grim
Don’t barge in my space
In solitude I want to be
When the world turns to be
A freer, just calmer space
I want to step out and feel
What pain solitude has been
And when I’ve made it, alive
Out of my solipsistic life
I want to turn into a new leaf
Embrace a new me, no pain nor grief!
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 3:25 AM UTC
That which is and that which must be,
is it there for me to see;
to hear;
to feel?
Or is it but a dream;
a sensation that teems
from within;
for within?
And, what lies within?
The 'I' who thinks
and creates;
and contemplates?
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 3:58 PM UTC
Seeds of pure Brahma appear
In the dark nothingness.
In their infinitesimal
Yet infinite dimensions
They carry the code for all creation.
Some fade away.
Some persist.
Propelled through will,
An urgency to occupy and diffuse.
Annihilation or coalition are inevitable.
Some acquire magnificent tinges
Worthy of acknowledgement.
Others marred and maimed
Are left to wither in exile.
I meditate on the most promising one.
Feel its inarticulatable essence
As the intangible element
Vanquish the void.
The One now unfolds.
Accreting into thoughts
Before passing through
The sieve of judgement.
These thoughts sublime I crystallize.
Choosing at will to blemish them
With motley emotions
Or monolithic reason.
I,
The creator,
Awestruck by my own creation,
The most magnificent in the domain
Wherein I reign supreme,
Hesitate.
I hesitate to articulate.
Knowing full well that tongue
Will never be able to bear
The simple complexity
And the complex simplicity
Of thought.
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
Not in the object revered
But in the imperfect beholder
Glows the light of inspiration.
Through eyelids facing west
The auburn canvas spreads.
Smell of damp pine needles
Carried by the dry retreating winds.
Not in the balance, do I marvel,
But in the transience of the moment
That threatens to justly divide
The hours between light and dark.
For strife is the eternal essence of life,
Strength of my sinew,
As I relentlessly roll the boulder
And watch gravity undo my labour.
But, there is no strife more revolting
Than THIS.
Cleaving ‘I’ from the rest
And assuming superiority -
An imperfect beholder.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
I don't c u
Yet u stand 2 feet away
I cannot hear u wen u shout
And cannot read the language u sign
Wen you touch me I feel u not
Though my skin grows cold
I am blind
Not in my eyes but in my mind
I observe the world around me
But I am not one with the world around me
Wen the heart grows cold the mind soon follows
To become empty the world grows hollow
To open my eyes and 2 open my mind
And dream of the joys I may then find
To see u too hear u too touch u to feel
To show that this mad wonderful world is real
A trick of the mind a world so surreal
To see u too hear u too touch u to feel
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC