"absolutes" poems
Lush is the quietude
of the late Saturday afternoon,
rich are the silencing sounds,
as variegated as the shades of greens
of a man-seeded, nature-patchworked lawn
rays reveal some bright,
some yellowed spots,
all a potent color palette
resting worry wearied eyes,
untroubled by the gentle fading light's illumination,
that soon will disappear and seal officially,
another week gone by
the lawn,
acting as an ceiling acoustic tile,
absorbing and reflecting
the varied din of disharmonious
natural sounds orchestrated,
an ever present reminder
that true quiet
is not the absence of noise
I hear
the chill in the air,
insects debating vociferously
their Saturday evening plans,
the waves broom-swishing beach debris,
pretending to be young parents
putting away the children's toys for the eve
the birds speak in Babel multitudes of tongues,
chirps, whistles, clicks and clacks,
then going strangely silent as if all were
praying collectively the afternoon sabbath service,
with an intensity of the silent devotion
this moment, i cannot
well enough communicate,
this trump of light absolutes,
and animal maybes,
that are visually and aurally
presented in a living surround sound screen,
Dolby, of course,
all a plot of
ease and gentility,
in toto,
sweet serenity
here to cease,
no more tinkering,
leave well enough,
plenty well enough
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
It is December in Wicklow:
Alders dripping, birches
Inheriting the last light,
The ash tree cold to look at.
A comet that was lost
Should be visible at sunset,
Those million tons of light
Like a glimmer of haws and rose-hips,
And I sometimes see a falling star.
If I could come on meteorite!
Instead I walk through damp leaves,
Husks, the spent flukes of autumn,
Imagining a hero
On some muddy compound,
His gift like a slingstone
Whirled for the desperate.
How did I end up like this?
I often think of my friends'
Beautiful prismatic counselling
And the anvil brains of some who hate me
As I sit weighing and weighing
My responsible tristia.
For what? For the ear? For the people?
For what is said behind-backs?
Rain comes down through the alders,
Its low conductive voices
Mutter about let-downs and erosions
And yet each drop recalls
The diamond absolutes.
I am neither internee nor informer;
An inner émigré, grown long-haired
And thoughtful; a wood-kerne
Escaped from the massacre,
Taking protective colouring
From bole and bark, feeling
Every wind that blows;
Who, blowing up these sparks
For their meagre heat, have missed
The once-in-a-lifetime portent,
The comet's pulsing rose.
8.1k
To Struga Festival Golden Wreath Laureates
& International Bards 1986
Stand up against governments, against God.
Stay irresponsible.
Say only what we know & imagine.
Absolutes are coercion.
Change is absolute.
Ordinary mind includes eternal perceptions.
Observe what's vivid.
Notice what you notice.
Catch yourself thinking.
Vividness is self-selecting.
If we don't show anyone, we're free to write anything.
Remember the future.
Advise only yourself.
Don't drink yourself to death.
Two molecules clanking against each other requires an observer to become
scientific data.
The measuring instrument determines the appearance of the phenomenal
world after Einstein.
The universe is subjective.
Walt Whitman celebrated Person.
We Are an observer, measuring instrument, eye, subject, Person.
Universe is person.
Inside skull vast as outside skull.
Mind is outer space.
"Each on his bed spoke to himself alone, making no sound."
First thought, best thought.
Mind is shapely, Art is shapely.
Maximum information, minimum number of syllables.
Syntax condensed, sound is solid.
Intense fragments of spoken idiom, best.
Consonants around vowels make sense.
Savor vowels, appreciate consonants.
Subject is known by what she sees.
Others can measure their vision by what we see.
Candor ends paranoia.
Kral Majales
June 25, 1986
Boulder, Colorado
5.5k
Life seldom grants us absolutes
Before the truth of reason
Comparison was treason
Ignoring the fact
That some have and some lack
Was common practice
Justice was lackluster
Politicians and business men
Were fluff and lots of bluster
But now with all the information we have
Reason and comparison should be elevated
Inequalities should be seriously debated
Not with flowery words which inform so little
But conceal so much, but with science
Because facts find hidden truths revealed
And there is seldom to much truth
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 5:46 PM UTC
Your were right.
I act so pitiful.
You were right.
I am negative.
You were right.
I'm a think in absolutes.
You were right.
I'm like a Sith.
But what do labels really change?
Do they warm you at night?
Even though it is,
you'd never admit my statement is right.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
This isn’t the first Saturday night ,
When your muse will gently kiss a faded parchment ,
And give birth to verses
That will keep me awake all night.
This isn’t the first Saturday night ,
When I will spill more ink than a wounded soldier ,
Writing his last letter back home ,
From the treacherous trenches
Of scarlet love.
But then the trenches I sought refuge in,
Are more treacherous than the rusted bayonet ,
With which he will script ,
The final chapters of his life .
And yet like him ,
If there’s one thing I have come to believe in ,
Then it’s this :
There is more comfort ,
In believing ,
In an unshakable absolute ,
Than there is in hiding ,
Beneath the mills of woolen warmth.
And
There is more naked grief ,
In letting your dreams ,
Be hinged to uncertainties,
Than there is in daring ,
To brave the winter without your warmth.
And yet you wonder?
Why I detest absolutes,
Which need a blanket of uncertainties ,
To survive the chill of a Saturday night ,
A night which as it drags on,
Like a frozen Nicholas sleigh ,
Seems to mock every fiber of hope in my being ,
Fibers that I unravelled to adorn
The dwelling of My absolute.
This isn’t the first Saturday Night when the tale will remain incomplete
Without that innocent question I crave to answer
For you are my absolute ,
Uncertainty.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 11:54 AM UTC
Samhain last night
Peering through the veil
Seeking truths
Absolving
Those who believe
In absolutes
Finding
One
Immutable
Fact
The Source is Love
God isn't dead
There never was a god
This idea is anthropomorphic
Navel gazing
Of course
There are no absolutes
This poem
Attempts to capture
A moment
In my spacetime
Relativity
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
Chameleon of Pretense
True colors
Not always colorful
No absolutes
No boundaries
Shades of gray
Deep dark deceit
Disguises shallow self
A chameleon of pretense
Forever changing
Their spectrum of sincerity
To temporarily fit
The moment at hand
Pretending and professing
Haughty hypocrites are we
Selfishly
And single-handedly
Glorifying
A colorful
Glittering glutton
Of pride...
(C)~Travis
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 10:41 PM UTC
I am from inconsistency,
forced adjustment,
eternally molding in a feeble attempt to appease my demanding environment.
I am from the loophole of the universe with no purpose,
few absolutes,
and a limited amount of time.
From laugh tracks,
reminding me when to laugh,
and for how long.
From the boredom at the bottom,
I've been Thriving in the *** trough,
endlessly scrounging for solutions and temporary entertainment.
From redundant ideas and places,
stale bread,
flat coke,
familiar situations and words.
On a screen in america
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
Good god, great grief!
Reflecting, absorbing, colourful grief,
I can see nothing but through your absolutes,
Look there to that leaf, so soon to be gone,
It is all our death, and beautiful, powerful, terrifying grief.
Jun 5, 2022
Jun 5, 2022 at 2:51 PM UTC
There was a fire burning in your eyes
As we sat in the darkness and tried to devise
A way to live forever
To sever the tether
Between our fragile bodies and our immortal soul
We tried to understand things beyond our control
We lived in the pages of ancient books
Stealing secrets likes shameless crooks
We dreamed impossible dreams
We talked only in absolutes and extremes
The foolish invincibility of youth
We thought we were guided by truth
But we were blinded by our fear
Of losing everything we hold dear
We became obsessed in the pursuit
That a sickness of a mind took root
We began to lose sight
Of what is wrong and what is right
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 1:07 AM UTC
Seven
Nine
Twenty-three point zero five
Cotangent of angle a
What can I find?
Why do I look?
It's a secret that I mistook
for a solution
Variables that make me
*****
Integers that
Irritate
Numbers give me the heebie-jeebies
Resolute in their
Absolutes
No quarter
Just one over four
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 1:52 AM UTC
(Imagine the title centered) Art in Pursuit of Man
Reaction to a Temper Tantrum in a Fashionable Arts Magazine
Art cannot be but in pursuit of man
Whether or not man is in pursuit of art
For men are shifting shoals of shiftlessness
Artistic absolutes that calendar-clique
But art is not defined, not locked in time
Art does not yield her crown in obedience
To yet another Decree 349
To yet another Order of the Day
Art is herself; her names are Sapientia
And Sophia; she creates; she does not obey
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 4:30 PM UTC
my replacing takes part by small
designs. displacements accumulate,
until some day you look
out the window or
breathe to check you're still
alive; and, like that,
this weight will be gone.
this burden, effortlessly
dissipating.
this lament reaches from all hollows.
'cause you only reap from seeds
sown, right? it never
rained once.
you know, though,
i, likewise, never threw a single one down,
and instead just bit my tongue,
carrying out schematic emptinesses.
these hollows fill out and
encompass the entire world;
at the focus of everything,
i act out absolutes
and do nothing at all.
these new fields still look
burnt. i still turn soil, hoping for
salvation.
what if it rains?
will i cope?
will i drown?
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 4:51 AM UTC
I go to great heights to prove myself
Anger is kept inside, it is too personal for the world's eyes
I exercise caution with each interaction
My presence is barely felt
A gentle reminder that life is not always gentle
I am a pronoun in the vast language of people
Many worries can eat away at a heart, so I choose just one
I am an incarnation of an idea that even I cannot pinpoint
My intention is to be happy
I shudder at the cliche
I am not conservative, although I may seem that way
It is an attempt to blend in
Complications, bumps in the road
These frustrate, even infuriate, me
I require absolutes. Uncertainty destroys
Robot life would be magical
Emotion is for the weak
I try not to preach, only listen
Ideas are nothing more than words strung together
These strings become puzzles for your enjoyment
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 7:06 PM UTC
Unbridled absolutes
Existentially running free
No one can tell you
What not to believe
Harvest your values
Sharpen your heart
Don't let fears
Tear us apart...
Compassion and mercy
Are known to sustain
Logic and reason
Are one and the same
.....
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 9:00 AM UTC
I drink red bull and orange juice with a splash ***
Then I play screamo speeding down the highway
getting ready to topple kings.
I am the kind of guy that smokes cigars in the shower then dances his way to the kitchen to make a peanut butter and jelly.
If there was in an absolute zero in the amount of ***** a human being can give, I wouldn't even try to calculate it because that will prove my point.
I watched a woman get punched in the face by another woman over a god **** blender and I watched a poor man give a dollar out of a broken wallet to a charity.
These things seem to not make sense to some
To me it does.
You think the world is mostly bad?
You think the world is mostly good?
You're wrong.
You are all wrong.
Speaking in absolutes will put you in the same place as the tyrant that you are constantly ******** about.
If you want to save the world, there will always be people trying to stop you.
If you want to destroy the world, there will always be people trying to stop you.
I am the man in the background eating popcorn and getting miffed because my soda is almost empty and I might have to get a refill.
These are the kings I topple.
YOU
ARE
THE
KINGS
I
TOPPLE
For the love of god shut the hell up and smoke a cigar in the shower.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 10:59 PM UTC
wonderful wall of sound
poly rhythms weave and dance
moves the trajectory of motion
vibrations of the earth
water meets the sky
don't listen, just hear
what business of celebration
sacramental liquid sunshine
and the kiss of the Goddess
how many forms can you take?
a whisper into infinity
and the void whispered back
calling me forth and changing, healing
growing and building new paths
rebuilding the constructs of self
collective visions of love
give up on belief itself
all is relative
beware of absolutes
belief restricts us from accepting all things as they are
the black hole mirror- the moon of narcissus
pointing toward another centre
come sit by the fire instead
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
*Lightning Enchantress & Her Diamond Absolutes,
Moaning Fluxes Of Her Satellite Pursuits.,
Phantasmal Intents In Her Indigo Silhouettes.
***** Eyes & Animatronic Bliss,
Her Cherry Lips Calling For Her Symphonic Kiss,
Inimitable Raindrops & Iridescent Perpetuity,
Condensed Laments Of Her Kaleidoscopic Sphericity,
Purple Palisades & Platinum Charades,
Pheromone Verses Of Her Propelled Shades,
Shapeshifting Reveries Of Her Hourglass Fictions,
Charming Archangels Concealed In Her Convictions,
Glasshouse Perspectives Emitting Luminescent Predictions,
Magnetic Canvas & Her Stainless Vibrations,
Her Aesthetic Amour Diffusing Amplifications,
Satirical Saga In Her Spiritual ******
Lyrical Charlatans Of Her Velvet Creativity,
Crystal Flowers & Supernatural Dreams,
Befuddled Effigies Of Her Cryptic Realms,
Her Feral Gleams Illustrating A Prophetic Queen.
- 02:32 AM -*
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 5:48 PM UTC
Sometimes the case of the letter
makes all the difference.
God or god.
An important personal I or a misplaced letter i.
Summer the girl or summer the season.
The uppercase letter delineates between importance and the ordinary.
Perfectionism is a haunt of mine.
It is a ghost that follows me
And does not stop no matter what I'm doing.
It kills a day in a blink.
It turns anxiety inside/out.
It takes away my care for something good;
Even the smallest of outcomes.
F@#k it.
That is perfectionism in two simple words.
If I cannot do it right then I refuse to do it at all.
How dangerous is that?
Or rather... how stupid is that?
I see my world in black and white.
Absolutes.
You are either right or wrong.
Good or bad.
Smart or stupid.
I have a ridiculously logical brain.
Logic is the glue that holds the shards of me together.
Without this reason,
I probably would have landed in the crazy house a long time ago.
Logic is my reality.
If I can reason it; it exists.
If I cannot; it must not be.
And there is the problem.
There is nothing logical about my past.
Although it seems that abusers have a handbook;
the logic chapter is always found
To be ripped out, shredded, and burned.
They left that part of it up to us to figure out;
To understand their evil.
That is what makes us crazy in the first place.
So the harder I try to understand;
The crazier I get. Literally.
I cannot reason what was done to me
And so sets in denial.
I can't understand it;
I can't make it right.
So f@#k it.
The abundance of f@#k its has really slowed me down.
Nearly to a halt and I'm not just talking about my mental healing.
This is my real life too.
Housekeeping, taking care of myself,
Dieting, exercise, blah blah blah...
you get the picture.
If I can't do it right and perfect;
Then I won't do it at all.
All great thoughts to live by.
This thinking is not something easy to change.
It is a deep part of who I am.
It is also something that makes me feel normal.
Normal exactly long enough until
I realize that normal people don't do math and physics problems for fun.
But I digress because my weirdness belongs in a whole other post.
I have steps to take.
One at a time.
Crying just one time worked for me.
And then I did it again.
Getting up early once
Led to me getting up early again AND working out.
It doesn't have to be all or nothing
Sometimes it's alright to be somewhere and in between.
I don't have to be completely healed or entirely wounded.
I'm still crazy;
Even with the steps towards tears and feeling.
But I have progress now
Because I have downgraded letters;
Even if it is just one.
Now I'm just crazy.
crazy with a little "c"...
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 6:44 PM UTC
That point where perspective fails
Is a sharp and shameless end
A failure, yes I must confess
For I have preached and I have practiced
And yet I have managed to fester a mess
Acquired a weightless collection of because
While fate heckles with his game of luck
Conducting an explicit scene
That has made a joke out of my childish dream
Finding solace in the irregularity of unearthly absolutes
I will carry my sore knees, drag my swollen knuckles
To rescue the sweet of my laborious fruits
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 9:30 PM UTC
*There was a time,
A time so fair,
A zero despair,
Cuz She was fair,
Life as I knew it was drizzling daisies,
Bleeding me the feel like the crazies.
Perfect absolutes,
Chimerical dilutes.
Enchanting moments with ephemeral bliss,
Rapt me into blissful abyss.
Ambient lightnings,
Forming supernova sightings.
My soul trapped in her seductive high,
Unknowing of her destructive lies.
Little was I was aware of her two-tone design,
My ****** Valentine
An alter ego so divine.
Demon with deceitful frames,
Unravelling her intimacy games.
Her bloodless lips whispering in the corridors of time,
Deporting me into her hate grimes.
Mutating into odium of torrential far cry,
Lies sarcastrophic podium of her mislaid demise.
Gagged and bound as me you broke down
And I believed everything,
As my love for you was logic drowned
Round and round I emanated all the way down.
Still submerged in the swamp of dummy beliefs,
Hoping to heal with concealed appeals,
Squeals of her feels reveal choking ordeals,
Cuz it was a different belief in a veiled inception,
Infinitely drowning with these unconcealed dogmas,
Remembrance feels like a past from yesterday,
All I am choked with are these Interstellar beliefs,
Detonating memories,
At the haste of light,
Giving me an anguish fright from the down right,
Corroding my heart with those Sulphur memories we once called a lifetime.
Like those 4 years with 4 million considerations.
Still lost in her maze of psychopathic daze,
Downward spirals decayed & set ablaze.
Reveries of her infinite sentiment once called transcendences.
All that’s left now are your radioactive reminiscences,
Of a place once called Tomorrowland.*
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 4:55 PM UTC
Pull the curtain from over your eyes
See beyond the constructed lies
Stop your judging and demented cries
Of those whose point of view you deny
Feign ignorance to the truth you will not see
Watch the tide rise as common sense recedes
Hunker down in your dogmatic cocoon
Only to emerge and naive buffoon
Logic and science are trickery and bewitchment
Such are the thoughts of the ignorant
Stick to your beliefs and fears like glue
For you read it in a sacred book so it must be true
Ask no questions and deny no absolutes
See where that takes you if you are so resolute
Watch the world crumble around you and blame the devil
For hes the creator of all ills and evil revel
Watch the powers that be consume and destroy
As they take away all living things health and joy
Pretend I offend your moral code
But deep down inside you fester with hypocritical mold
To NOT ask questions and seek new ways
Is to annihilate the future of all earthly days
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 7:10 PM UTC