"absolutist" poems
A **** perfectionist.
You're as old but isn't as wise as an abacist.
You fight for wrong, naive absolutist.
You think you're much of an academist,
**** dumb perfectionist.
Get crazy on other's tiny errors,
Then shrug off your own,
Say "nobody's perfect" as an excuse,
That's getting old, you're fooling nobody,
You **** dumb perfectionist.
Your two-faced mask is broken to bits and pieces,
Yet you still pretend you're the wise one.
Nobody's fooled by your feeble act!
At least, not me anymore,
You **** dumb perfectionist.
All you boast with is money!
Don't get me wrong,
I won't kneel and kiss your feet.
You blind others with cash and bling,
'Cause you can't live on your own.
You're supposed to be my role model
But what in you is close enough to be?
Procrastination? Foul mouth?
Wait— you already taught me to be worse than you,
You **** dumb perfectionist.
Clamor all you want,
I don't care anymore.
You can't blind me with what you have,
You can't turn me to what I'm not,
You **** dumb perfectionist!
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 10:56 AM UTC
My life pressed like those perfect folded sheets. Married in steam and good intentions of having life together.
Of course, that always starts with making your bed in the morning and filling the days with things you ought to do.
I'd spent my whole life trying to be this person....
I can't but help miss the stain on my coffee table and my linen sheets sprawled across my floor waiting for my return.
The chaos in my life felt like a harmony of bethovan's seventh symphony. A beautiful orchestrarted master piece I could only make the sense of.
I was an absolutist. Completely content with the messiness of it all. Entirely captivated by the beauty and desire with urge to succumb to it all.
The unequivocal grounding of not giving a **** at all if at least felt good.
I can't help but wonder if the person I'm unbecoming is the person I should be saving.
Jan 13, 2023
Jan 13, 2023 at 1:36 AM UTC
Oh' apple of the eye
Forgetful smelling rye
You breath is sweet as butter
An' your soul
Only knows how to cry
I've loved you
Before you were born
And every letter I've writ you
I've cried over
And torn
Here I lay and stay
Thinking there's no other way
I see my friends
And they say
Love is nothing but something
To obey
The poet in his masquerade
Holds the fiddle as he plays
Songs of days thrown away
For men of many
That have no penny to pay
Her smile brought wars
Her scent brought passion
And the way she grinned
In that forgotten summer of sin
Made any man that had died
Wished to be brought back again
Though I know life
Is only a forgetful memory
Does not mean
That every second I spend with thee
Is nothing less but heavenly
See the table on top of the hill
And the baby that spills
With her eyes that hover still
In a rotating transition
That holds no rule too applicable
What cannot be seen
Is never too obscene
She breathes the way puppets do
Obsessed with only political coup's
Dance with that two step trance
She's the one with the lemon pants
A wriggle and a right a row
The prisoner's have the ship in tow
Now, I know that I said
There was no reason to get upset
But, here I see you
Getting red over a slip of the pen
Forgiving fade away
Absolutist abolitionist
Too scared to take it,
Yet, too lonely to leave it
She winked at me
With a teary eye
And a whisper to be
Close are your fluttering lashes
Watch
As the dew drop lady passes
Every distance
Is not near
Keep your eyes open
For soon
Your dreams will appear
A present of misfortune
Each word a perfect cut
The grass was as soft silk
An end with no period penned.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 12:27 PM UTC
Pilate asked Him, “What is truth?” when Jesus stood on trial,
Bearing witness of the Truth to all who heard His voice.
Though philosophy rejected it, stood in denial,
Still, the Way, the Truth, the Life allowed mankind its choice.
“What is truth?” though, sounds urbane, superior to law.
Hermeneutics of humility smooths out the field.
I seem more sophisticated, cultured, not bourgeois,
If it’s all a mystery, still hidden, unrevealed.
So I claim, “There are no absolutes; it’s relative,”
Disregarding that my statement’s antithetical.
My assertion controverts itself (though tentative),
By proclaiming proclamations “theoretical.”
Next I try, “Who really knows what truth is, after all?”
All my friends agree with me; they wisely nod, concur.
Confident in doubt, with inconsistency banal,
Logic cast aside, to diametrics they demur.
How about “There is no right or wrong; it’s in your head!”
Satisfying concept until I’m the one abused.
Then my default is to judge the wrongdoer instead,
Never asking, “Why impose my ‘truth’ on the accused?”
“Well,” I claim, “I make my own reality; it’s true.”
If you counter me on that, I’ll argue all the way.
Think about it, though, because just how can I undo
True belief with skepticism; how will doubt have sway ?
Really, if I don’t have Truth, I don’t have anything.
Two plus two must equal four, or all the rest is void.
If we have no premise to employ linguistic string,
Then our discourse has no point; we’re barely humanoid.
Truth’s the binding to our book, the glue that holds secure
Logic, Reason, plain Consistency, our common ground,
Making possible each conversation to be sure,
Infrastructure of our culture, verity profound.
Then . . .
Let the relativist hush, he has no argument.
Making absolutist claims without the Truth is mad.
Only schizophrenics would attempt to circumvent
Rationale with their subjective unbelieving fad.
Maybe Truth’s “behind the times,” unstylish, square, uncool,
Maybe if I cling to it they’ll call me “Simpleton.”
All I know is Truth, derided, under ridicule
Still is True, and I’ll be its “minority of one.”
Yes, I’ll make that choice to speak the Truth against the tide.
Orwell’s “revolutionary act,” though I’m alone,
Pilate asked Him, “What is truth?” and history replied, . . . that
Truth, though spurned, remains civilization’s Cornerstone.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 8:38 PM UTC
Fire inside me
Try and take me
I'll break you into a million pieces
Maybe even set you free
Forget what you knew about what you worked so hard to know
Skies are cracking, the Earth is dying, and I'm just sighing inside
Good night to the moon, remember that fairy tale?
Oh, who knew the high white moon was lying to you?
These pebbled beaches are burning my feet
Everyone around me is telling me to be neat
I laugh in their face and spill water in their drink
Their scratching their head hard, struggling to think
Absolutist minds kick themselves in the end
Mr. N taught me something as well as my brother Big Ben
So if your around let that lady know
Tonight I'll be working in the late night snow
Positive as I walk down the depths of 4th street
Watching Keats break bread, lacing up his leather cleats
Bobbing up & down in a purple vest made of gold
Frowning hearts are lady love's true mold
Color's that blinded me in my youth are now looking beautiful
All I got are my hands, a pen, and a will to stay dutiful
Attack me with all you got and I'll leave you dead in the sand
Rush me now, head down, and I'll bury you in this "unified" land
Farewell to the beats that once were heard round' the world
Forget the way things were because the doom is in the swirl
Aftermath rejects sit late after school with a narrow minded hate
I'm setting a mental note of my soon to be release date
Feb 8, 2011
Feb 8, 2011 at 1:06 PM UTC
I know
I know what is right from wrong
But I do not know why I keep doing it for so long
For the millionth time
I know
Why do you do it too
If you know that it is wrong
'Cause it is what everybody does?
I have eyes too
I can imitate that
I can reciprocate all that
Future generations can
We are fine not changing this rotten world
We are fine following the crowd
We are fine living in these dying cerebrums
Blame me
For my cowardice
For I am an absolutist
Love the subtlety
If I am fighting for something
I should not be hiding behind my screens
I know
I am illogical
Out of my head
But re-check yourself if you had one too
I know
We are all humans
And I honestly hate that philosophy
Since all we do is escape that futility
And choose social mutiny
Desenthesize us, realists and freaks' mentality
Instead of unity
Please, more fatalities
But it feels good, right?
To let yourself in irrationality
Since this is not pretty
So is reality
Especially when they desire change
But on the inside, they are afraid
I know
Art cannot be political
To fight against the atmosphere
I know
You have all the time in your life
To sin, then regret
Mistakes flow me!
And may regret do the same thing
I know
I know
But before you point your finger
Why not point yourself too
It feels good to be wrong (but not right)
Feb 10, 2019
Feb 10, 2019 at 5:25 AM UTC
It's an original sin, incandescent,
an absolutist's balloon monsoon,
but Eden's air comes in whipped cream cans;
the serpent had no need for names.
Blood hits the ice,
and the dextromethorphan hits too,
and yesterday, tomorrow, a crystal glows
briefly, never to be seen again.
The concrete tunnel is filled with spiders,
chewing at my brain as they suffocate,
beneath the weight of expectation.
And now, beneath this jellied tree,
I see the God I've ignored all these years,
and I bask in the artificial glow of LSD
before I realize my mistake.
Because when homeless men that went to Harvard,
smoke **** with you, hungover,
out of an Apple,
why change a thing?
Oct 21, 2019
Oct 21, 2019 at 4:06 PM UTC
Nonchalant princess
Hibiscus absolutist
What you've got to give
And what you've got to say
Are two very different things
A press of the lips
Ten firing squads
We were never ones
To die on time
I'm looking
Into
My mind
Seeing the
Effortless
Frown
Passion
Is the color of
Cold
Blessed' bark tree
Spent apple orchard
Grow me woman
Grow me a child
I ain't going nowhere
Take a while
We are strangers
In a
Strange land
Where were going
No one
Can
Tell
Bring your notebook
Bring your shells
Bring your eye patch
Or
Whatever the Hell
Who needs a home, four walls,
A wooden fence?
Who needs a life lived
With one type of lense?
Make the money.
Make it plenty.
Take a step
From
Pretending.
I promise
It won't be that
Upsetting.
But it's true
These times are
Yours and mine
You took what you need
And I'll take what I need
But let's try together
To stay far away from that little devil
Named greed
Out on the ocean
Circling the bay
Was a grey and blue cloud
Covering the day
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
it is such a tragedy that absolutist have never seen nor chased a rainbow
Dec 27, 2023
Dec 27, 2023 at 6:57 AM UTC
life of lost values
what has become of them
i hope to hold onto
what once was and is now the past
what has this pathetic world come to
leaving me to drown in it's ****
i stay away
from life's new realization
or i will only go in circles
why must they act crazy
with only god to save us
i feel like i'm made of paper
lost in a puddle of their ****
what i say and what i feel
means absolutist nothing
where are we gone, will we ever make it
or
do we cry as one
in this life of hell in a living burning pit
with only drunken pain
to see the light
of this **** hole
of a lost life
someone please
sew my eye's shut
plug my ears
and cut out my tounge
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 11:45 AM UTC