"actualized" poems
I must’ve known you in a past life
You feel so familiar
Even when I didn’t know that I knew you
I knew
There was something in the way
The warmth radiated from your skin
Caramel macchiato I drank you in
The baritone of your laugh
You were so familiar
Yet we had just met
Your silhouette
Was one I had seen before
But not in this lifetime
Were you mine in another one?
Slipping through my fingers like silk
Always one grasp away
But you’re never gone
The way you remain like the rain
Soaking grass in spring
And I’m thirsty for you
For endless nights talking in darkness
Till light came in again
And never running out of words
But even as we spoke it felt so deja vu
Don’t I already know you?
How do you know me so well?
Like your code is written into my cells,
I feel you on a molecular level
Your soul intertwined in mine
But never fully actualized in this timeline
Years and years come and go
But your “aww” and chuckle never fade,
I hear it like you smiled that way you do
Like it was yesterday
Time a construction that doesn’t function
In the realities in which I know you
I have known you
You’ve been mine and I yours
In lifetimes before
In present, eyes closed I manifest
My me’s and your you’s
Subconscious whispers traveling
Through time and space
Dimensions unknown
But I know
It’s you and you know
It’s me too.
May 17, 2021
May 17, 2021 at 5:00 AM UTC
are you generally happy?
a semi-innocuous query
now actualized as a two sided bladed poker,
hot stabbing me smack dab in
the chests hollow crown bullseye,
continuously, as in all life long, and eternal longing for a
“yes”
it fits inside a pubescent aged wound that
refreshes with every breath;
a life long struggle for an accurate definition,
be a general of genuine happy,
that alone would deliver, bringing on bright day satisfaction
as a human, one operates on parallel continuums;
slide slipping on well oiled poles that over the years,
their lengths, increasing with add-on extender poles
formed by
twisty turny slips and falls of sundered hearts and sad loves,
marriages nicknamed Titanic, children found and lost,
complications responsibilities that are denied meeting the words
“The End”
a life that many would envy, questioning what’s wrong
with you dude, are you blinded to the riches yours,
reality is
shoulders permanently bent, a spine that’s held together by
spit and solder and curved by wearying wearing longing for
a straightness that is also called crooked unobtainable
and a piece of a peace that comes and goes
like a highway billboard that you pass too fast to be fully read
the body is corroding and worser yet to come and that’s a hand
you selected - luck of the self-selecting-drawing -
the opioids of the mind offers are rejected
the clarity of painful self exploration valued overall -
the place where the poems come from,
and go to die,
a landscape of a scene repeatedly visualized
but never been and never left,
the crazy contradictions come in two flavors;
vanilla smiles and chocolate weeping of tears that have
etched pathways cheek-chiseled
the city is a struggling strife for most,
the next red line on the side
of the measuring cup and
everyone has a cell, a credit card,
and a measuring cup
<•>
here I stop can’t finish
someone missing alerts me
to their real worlds troubles
making my complaints super superficial but
the silent running of the stilleto
cuts shallow
repeated hourly
the cut color,
pitch black
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 2:05 PM UTC
I know that my life
became something else
something unwanted
unplanned
like a teenage pregnancy,
coming out of high school
they would have said
that boy has so much potential
very smart,
highly actualized,
mature
the only thing is,
about the same time I moved out
my parents decided
that my thirteen year old brother
wasn't worth pretending for anymore
they split
like a banana based dessert
and left me
and the three of my brothers
asking questions
our basis for true love
was fragmented
like a cartoon broken heart
and the pieces were too small to pick up,
so now here I am
no job
and no higher learning
to speak of
clinging to the words
which rush around inside of me
I've come to the realization,
there are no ****** up kids
only ****** up parents
and poor kids
who are left to
reestablish a basis
for love and life
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 9:38 PM UTC
Matters of love, you’ve reaped into me
Dynamics of knowledge, richness and profoundness
Bringing age to my heart
Knowing love and knowing brutal pain
More real, more powerful, more beautiful
Gifted consciousness filling missing part of potential
Crumbling down our incompleteness
Loving you more than consciousness of my thoughts will allow
More than the passion of my intensity
To be a model of human brilliance
Manifests within the existence of my being
I am a furnace
You are the only flame
Sparking this wild fire
I am a candle, inanimate,
You are the flicker that gives it life, light, soul
I'm am intrinsic potential waiting to be actualized
You are the catalyst of life breathing momentum into me
Through your existence
A flower, a beacon, weapon to my oppression and pain
Appropriation of your love, impossibility in my life
Immaculate potion to my sorrow
Like a wild flower
Withstanding thunder, hurricanes, and rain
An atom from another dimension
Your pulse travels through my heart and my soul
As dangerous as ore
You are the purest form
Deep underneath farther than I can explore
You are the most beautiful creation
You are the end to my means
Unconceivable new reality to my rebellion
The revolution I await
In the deepest part of my existence
Knowing it might never be
Key to my chains
Chant to my muted voice
You are the embodiment and the soul of my freedom
Always escaping from me
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 11:14 AM UTC
When I leave this town of sticks and stones,
And make way through the thick, dense fog,
I will no longer feel anxiety pouring over me,
Will no longer be, a bump on a log.
When I rome free through the wild outdoors,
I will no longr contemplate my past,
The moment I achieve pure happiness,
Wanting the moment to forever last.
When I long to see my boyfriend,
I won't lie there foolishly and cry,
Because life is about diversity,
To progressively advance and try.
When I learn the true meaning of, "I love you,"
I will feel omniscient and strong,
Despite my hardships,
Whether right, or whether wrong.
When Im off to college,
New doors will open up for me,
Such extraodinary opportunities out there,
For such a dedicated, yet small me.
When I'm married to the man I love,
My wasted thoughts will leave my head,
I'll only worry about the choices I made,
The actions I took, and the things I said.
When I achieve my dreams,
Self-actualized, I'll surely be,
Hoping to some day become a legend,
With endless things to see.
When I'm eventually deceased and gone from this world,
I will have looked back and said I tried,
Tried to make use of the life God left me with,
Along such a beautiful, bumpy ride.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 7:05 PM UTC
perpetuated indifference
freedom and fleas
cats in the trees
loving the grass and twigs
between my knees
and toes
and fragments
in my hair
my clothes
and on a day such as forever
I spoke to another
terribly,
not so good at words
with others
who say words back,
pretty little polka dotted
circles and nonsense
like who are you kidding?
Individuality is not a crime
though faking it is,
as if being unique is even unique
but another copy
of another
a thought already thought
shush up
kiss like a real person
not a slobbery
monstrous
adolescent,
but like a man who knows
or at least cares,
but not about the earth crusts on my skin
or the air in my finger nails
it's all me
and if they can't like it
can't love it
in any way
that can be considered love
or positive
in any form or shape or sound or purpose
then forget
to forget
because sometimes
one is ****** up
and enjoys
a little game
of brain bashing insecurity,
until that day when one becomes self-actualized
(oh please)
and then real forget and freedom may happen.
How boring.
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 8:54 PM UTC
Life is a sacred journey.
No two are the same.
Respect for divergence
is paramount
to a holistic experience.
Life
is not about
status-quo
or
expectations,
t'is simply what's made thereof
Lyphe
is a sacred opportunity
not to be taken lightly
Our Bodies
are our umbilical vessels
which tether us
as mortals
to "Reality,"
which, in itself,
seems to me to be
a reduction of potentials
from chance
to actuality
such ephemeral eternety;
infinite limitations;
actualized potentials;
possible paths-
these are but some of
the koan-like attributes
which lead me to use
the rather ambiguous
and ambitious
term "sacred."
Truly,
it becomes
whatthefucksoever
One may well will
to create thereof.
Action is Manifestation,
yet Thought begets Action.
Therein lies the sacred gift of Life.
'T'is all too oft taken for granted.
Every living being
(i am convinced)
has an equally vivid depth of experience
and I find it more than somewhat offensive
that humans (with a lowercase H)
feel they are the penultimate organism.
All is One
in that existence, itself,
tethers us all
to everything
and probably even beyond,
and so
to be so
hubristic and arrogant
as to assume a hierarchy
so convieñantly crested by mere
**** Sapiens Sapiens*
seems to me to be
an anthrocentric and narcissistic projection
of that meddlesome ages-old archetype
of the "Ego,"
that is to say "God,"
whatthefuckever that means!
Find it in thyself
to be humble enough
to accept that each and every iota of "Creation"
is, by virtue of association, equally sacred; divine.
Heirarchy, thus, seems to be a manifestation of some desire for order; control; a yearning to alleviate some hypothetical insecurity as a result of being essentially "absolute, infinite" (vis-a-vis the domain of Consciousness) yet contained within a vessel that is mortal, and, thus, ephimeral.
The Ego doth so loathe it's own limitations:
too bad it's far too arrogant to realize that most of the limitations it experiences are illusions, allusions;
charades of an insatiable Consciousness
Hell-bent on experiencing something
it won't redily allow itself to experience!
What a Holy fuckton of
incredulous, ineffable, impalpable, inspirational **** that would be, eh?! (insert interrobang)
I am me (I think...)
as thou art thee;
so why can't that just be good enough?
Could it be?
What obstruction precludes such harmonious divergence?
I reckon 't'is but us;
and very little else, indeed!
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 9:37 AM UTC
the lovely picture window (always the same, always different)
There are painters who must,
having found the place, must,
repaint it, compelled to repeat it,
each a variant, yet always the same,
always different
I awake to a perspective that is wide,
always differentiated from the prior,
always almost similar, but never with
the same exactitude, differing attitude,
same longitude, identical latitude,
always different
horizon distanced, in all ways a view
encompassing, duality near, far distant,
harmoniously, eyes open, magnetized
to wake before 6am by the suns modesty,
first light, first clarity, a curtain risen, yet,
always different
am I so blessed or thus cursed, for the urge
to disclaim and ode, compose and thus self-
decompose, analyze, reflect, slice apart, needing
the comprehensive understanding this me/place
scripts the raw appreciation, daily differentiated
always the same
this peaceful venue seizures, chest calmly
pounding at the insistence it commands,
the price I must pay for the prize to praise,
to sing, weep, reward restful sleep with lyrics
eked out, pouring, unsustainable yet finished,
always different
a single May Iris, returns, born from a torrential,
thunder, lightning, sky mayhem, rises by a sundial
greets midst a planted clump, upright rises, lavender,
in a majestic solitary, absent but a day prior, yet mine eyes
failed to witness its discernible emerging birthing creation,
always different,
always the same
here, I am Iris too, always the same, a day aged,
but the differences minute but stolid actualized,
this overnight sensation, my body’s restoration,
what I visualize, indivisible, now visible, realized,
miracle of continuity, unchanging chained change,
always different ,
always the same
wonder, am I more blessed, or a s~lightly cursed being,
my breath restored, wet eyes full brimming, changed,
revived but always modified, a newer old man, whose
sum total always a different number, but in sequential,
compelled to confess, no understanding of this miracle,
always the same,
always different,
this daily visionary miracle
6:36 AM
Fri May 24
2024
Silver Beach,
Shelter Island
May 24, 2024
May 24, 2024 at 6:53 AM UTC
Aging Poetry Well (proving the valor of writing poetry)
no more write, post, establish
to your immediate satisfaction,
what you are
what you think
is an amazing piece of
just you,
plus+comprehending
the world needs it, you,
ASAP!
needy for the
cosplay contemporaneous sharing,
curse of our
instantaneous time
from now on
deep down, gonna let it
casket age,
let memory
of the intensity
rust sufficiently to
get some time~plied
rusted accurate actualized
perspective
maybe trash it,
maybe tinker and
spot-check edit,
but if it is going
to stand
time testing,
let it pass a
first Herculean
examination of
fire and forget,
returning later
to collect it,
the wounded
that,
refusing to die,
thus proving proof,
the valor of
red badged courage of
writing poetry
is it worthy long after
the internal commotion
has passed,
just like
an ordinary
but very first
"I love you"
forming and reforming
then blurted in
a wunderkind awkwardness,
that can't be
taken back,
well, *** and all that
put me aside,
could be weeks,
months,
researching
the thing I love most,
waiting for the day I
need it worse,
a lot less,
so I can
do it better
maybe even go back
look up them
odd old folks,
written in
longing ago high passion,
and come at them
differently
or wistfully,
not
and like me,
age
for better
or
for worse
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
oh, detracted, exalted train on unconscious tracks!
how can one so unwielding, so unyielding, so ******* unrevealing
dare blemish purity of the sacred?
unattainable ideal that the actualized only dream of explaining!
how dare you!
May 26, 2012
May 26, 2012 at 11:32 AM UTC
If a girl is drunker than
me
I believe
in taking her back
to
her crib.
I'm not some male feminist,
but she gotta be
on my level
in order to ****
Kiss her on the doorstep.
Tongue and all that good ****
Lead her back to her bed.
Lay her down.
And leave with a whole bunch
of not actualized *** in my *****
because
I got standards.
Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 6:28 PM UTC
On the orange side of paradise
Walking through a poppy field
Searching for a tangible illusion
An Eden very well concealed
Violent marigold storms pass
Sun dripping gardens emerge
Finding such beauty actualized
Sitting among flowering spurge
Illuminated among little stars
The balmy ethereal nights
Dangerous oleanders dance
Under a faint sheen of lights
Larks perched on pear trees
Singing for the patient flowers
The most lurid lullaby
A placid scene all ours
Apr 24, 2011
Apr 24, 2011 at 10:05 PM UTC
we weaklings
were weapons of warmth,
lulling, sanctifying,
losing ourselves in orbit,
in constellations of opticals,
and oh, how the voices would
rise from below us,
and my, how the fires would
fall all around us,
but it was always you and me,
wrapping ourselves in freedom,
speaking naught of love,
only acceptance in hopelessness,
and gratefulness at each others'
words and actualized souls.
Oct 14, 2010
Oct 14, 2010 at 12:49 PM UTC
this creative sea
you, me, us
a cavalcade of pronouns
dead tigers
swimming and spinning
through cascades of metaphor
and simile maldefined.
so sick of seeking truth
a battle poorly placed
awkward timing
skinny lines
of belief, disbelief and nonparticipation
waiting for clarity
in the waves of obscurity.
“as you know, we’ll never know
and blindly ford the river of paint
horse hair in hand
to an actualized bank.”
scoffs, she does, and moves face and nose to her art
up for air, and down again
actualizing the truth
that was never there, always.
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 4:45 PM UTC
My scars
They weren’t planned
Just like life’s scars
They hurt sometimes
I caused them
That’s why they are my scars
I don’t wear them with pride
But they are mine
Caused by me
Made by me
No one else
This scars weren’t anyone’s to blame
These are my scars
My pain actualized
My tear monumented
While the world will scar my heart
Without my choice
These scars, my scars
With every line
With every bump and curve
Are my scars
You may not see the rationale
I don’t even know the rationale
But I know the scars
I see the scars
What caused the scars
They are and nothing else but
My scars
Sep 1, 2022
Sep 1, 2022 at 6:06 PM UTC
My world, a relic,
My hopes, unnavigated,
The sky transports my dreaminess
The wind wins me with drunken delight
Nothing actualized
From my deluge of desire,
Couldn't cast a soul
With my far aspirations.
I celebrate the vibrant joy
Of the cosmic poet,
Savoring every nuance of his love
I admire his formidable face
As a ruthless destroyer of wrong
I embrace his elixir -- love,
His death, suffering and solace--
Likewise.
I cherish his sparkling vigil,
His endless luminosity,
Then again
His opaque darkness
As appalling as that may be
I honor his luscious love
That mingles, matches, unites,
As well as the rifts
That rip up the heart
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 9:48 AM UTC
Her shoulder slope
open to the sun
reveals the long road
to warmer sands,
where her heart beats
the waves in the ocean,
as the bass through boards
on her holy dance floor,
private, secluded.
Her trim of green
smells of a sweet
musk, patchouli, of
old cinnamon
I fill my lungs
I pretend that she's smoke,
invites and then guides
my journey toward her
sacred equator.
|||||||||||||||. . .
On the run, the run, on the run
There's a place to which I'd like to travel
But I've been there before THAT'S
HOW I GOT THIS WAY BY HAVING
HAPPINESS actualized and two heavy
hands to wipe it all away
Disintegrate, disintegrate
On the run, the run, on the run
Invitation is one thing -- I don't deserve
The want is with me the
heart is pure
This spirit, though
still broken from
whatever time before
today.
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 2:34 AM UTC
If given the chance, would you erase the past?
Or simply move forward like every second was your last.
Would you ponder your thoughts or sleep your life away?
Would you crawl under a rock day after day?
Would you open up your heart to the one you truly love?
Or lock up your feelings and give fate a shove.
Would you reach the farthest you could reach or fall down with regret?
Would you ever define yourself as self-actualized or suffer from anxiety, lonesome and much fret.
Would you accept you are or watch others grow?
Would you discover happiness or remain too shy; not bold.
Would you keep your head up high when you're feeling down?
Or isolate yourself from all around?
Would you follow your heart or only use your head?
Would you let true talent go to waste and feel as if it's dead?
Would you drink your sorrows away or face reality?
Would you fight until satisfied or suffer brutality?
Would you speak your mind or let others exploit you?
Would you live life to its fullest or become withered; black and blue?
Would you cry when you needed to?
Or have a large lump in your throat,
Would you express your emotions as your personal anecdote?
Would you always think positive or have a negative mind?
Would you make the most of your life or have the beauty yet to find?
Would you help those in need or just hope and pray?
Would you make an impact in their lives?
Or assume they'll be okay.
So if given the chance, would you begin your life anew?
Or contemplate all the memories,
After all you've gone through?
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 12:41 PM UTC
Serenity of the Buddha fountain
graces our garden
His wise presence flows
steadily over thorns, thistle
and rocks that jut across the pathway
creating obstacles in our lives
There was turmoil, misery,
calamity in His generation
just like today
The Ravanas of our time
prowl earth’s gardens
seeking to abduct and ravage
goodness, love, purity, truth
Illustrious Gautama gained the perfect
peace that passeth understanding
by treading the middle path and realizing
that pushing the envelope
indulging in all types of extreme behavior
sabotages our mental, emotional and physical
well being
He declared to His disciples as they
wandered through the world that
desire is the cause of all suffering
and like the Master Jesus encouraged them
“to be in the world not of it”
This He knew could be actualized by
the right use of the senses,
loving, compassionate service to mankind
and having a still, tranquil mind
through the process of
meditation
Twilight dusk blankets the garden
The Buddha twinkling under a
panorama of evening stars
a crystal ball spinning luminously
in his hands
illumines our beaten path
from His radiant pedestal,
beneath the Bodhi tree
“The Sun of Enlightenment Shines”
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
The primary obstacles preventing One from following One's Heart
seem to be the incalculable ******** excuses in One's head
ultimately serving to justify a lack of proper effort-
to justify stagnation, complacency, and laziness.
Overcome them or be overcome by them.
You shall never know if you never try.
One who doesn't try
precludes any chance of future success.
One who doesn't care
is unworthy of what success may otherwise be actualized.
Take the incentive to cultivate the Mind.
Have the courage to follow your Heart.
Have the Heart to help others do the same.
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 5:11 AM UTC
*We spent trillions of time searching for love
And forgot It's a product of patience and peace
We wasted years contemplating what we'd have
Whether awaiting us was sorrow or bliss
Atrophied centuries trying to overcome fear
Rather than welcome it and with it learn to live
We followed from behind so that they wouldn't see a tear
And we would have no long explanation or fake smiles to give
We used the lonely routes for none could be trusted
But walked armed incase anybody showed up
We waited for our trumpets to be blown till they rusted
Like the entire universe and Galaxy was having a nap
Until we actualized that pain and risk is the essence of living
None of our wrinkles were from smiles but grieving*
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 5:08 AM UTC
I. Physiological
If you were air, I would gladly take you in,
fill my lungs with every particle that is you.
You’ve been a significant part of me
that taking you away
would cause so much distress,
would wreak instability—
disequilibrium.
II. Safety
When you enclose me in your arms,
pay attention to the things I say,
fill every inch of me with kisses,
smile at me reassuringly,
that’s when I know I’m safe—
that I’m secured,
that I’m home.
III. Love or Belonging
I like the idea of us
having the same wavelength:
our interests go in the same direction,
and sometimes go their separate ways;
but at some point, would intersect beautifully.
IV. Esteem
I used to think less of myself—
always not good enough,
almost there but not really.
I never really thought I mattered
until you showed me…
V. Self-Actualization
It would be pretentious if I told you that
I am a self-actualized person now;
but with you, I’ve come to terms with my demons.
And in you, I found joy and fulfillment.
I love you.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC
It’s a very conflicting feeling
writing poetry in high school—
the world overlooks us
as we sulk for recognition,
hoping that one day
long after we’re too dead
to get any kind of satisfaction out of it
that our words will be immortalized
and important enough to appear
in the worn pages
of some high school kid’s English textbook.
It’s a very conflicting feeling indeed
to hear every teenage voice around you
sigh in a collective groan of boredom
when assigned to read what every
grey-haired scholar calls
a poetic masterpiece—
the highest caliber
of anything you write could ever hope to achieve.
It’s the most absurd irony
that a poet’s world is a binary one.
If you ever manage to crawl out
of the black pit of mediocre obscurity, maybe one day
(long after you’re dead, of course)
your greatest ambitions
can be actualized—the literary purging
of your soul, the collective narrative
of your world view can one day be immortalized
as the dull assignment
some overwhelmed honor’s student
can suffer through.
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC