"ambiguities" poems
Where goes the time when it flies?
Simplified by expression, and stained by clarity.
Smudge by lucidity
smeared by simplicity
tainted by intelligibility.
Tempus fugit as in time flies.
Sharply distressing with painful feelings
to the point of mental instability
morning or night
we become possessed with its mystic dealings.
Where goes the time when it runs?
Not a solitary explanation is found.
It happens and it won’t stop
until life terminates as well
without cause.
Derived of rationalisation
lacking understanding
short of justification
bursting with vindication
persistently and with conviction.
Where goes the time when it sails?
From the second that we’re born.
Where were we existing?
We cannot be so sure
Cannot recollect the past
Not for the first five of our years
Memory so blur, so shadowy
Hazy with distortions
obscure and confusing
Unit our mind starts slowly to recollect.
Where goes the time when it escapes?
The chronology of life so mysterious.
Nothing can solve its ambiguity
for time is a complex case
with an infinity of secrets.
What’s the obsession when we have so many setbacks
drawbacks and obstacles
obstructions and conundrums
to take care of before time perishes away
and leaves us stranded in oblivion.
Oh time, you magnificent of all mysteries,
the high and mighty of ambiguities.
Show us mercy and explain
we are not detectives of secrecies
your spell with us reflects on the whodunits.
Oh time of things past and yet to come
give us a clue as to what is to derive!
“Remember”
it softly replies “Make most of your lives”
“Once I fly away no one can have a replay”.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 6:11 AM UTC
An entrenchment of truths
That hold forth a funeral table
For gracious hospitality
Of gentle nostalgia
In indulgence of murderous affection
Which manifest adequate
Yet uncomprehending grieving
Ambiguities of advocacy
In their extreams of moralizing warnings
In fleeting appearances who tell bold lies
In the mosaics of enclosed palaces
Presenting bouquet upon bouquet
Of black flowers on this weighted table
Truths that have been deprived of their vein stone
Truths owned to identity of embodiment
Surreal and interchangeable
That resonate in timely dissorder
Like the noise of migrating birds
Flying to the edge of the world
Aug 13, 2012
Aug 13, 2012 at 6:31 PM UTC
I have a dream! I have a dream,
To the racial discriminators, said Martin Luther King,
I have a dream! I have a dream!
To the evil-creating economists, I warn and ring.
Globe witness hunger, inequality poverty and unemployment
The world turns out to be bitter,
To all of you, I write this letter.
To create a world relieved from these and turn better.
I am a mad aspiring economist, a fool,
Searching for the right tool,
You turned the world with full of mess,
People are left with nothing less.
To the world, you gave theories,
Pushed us into a vicious cycle of injuries,
About your theories, you boasted,
It has created a few ruling and bloated.
Most of you worked as economic hitmen,
Turned victim laymen to fighting gunmen.
To the realities, your theory is distant,
Served no solution to the dying peasants,
To the few, we remain a psychological slave and servants,
Tuned our lives to a depended migrant.
With your development lecture,
You have killed the entire nature,
In the name of ventures, corporates turned vulture,
Hunted and looted our generations’ future.
We lived a self-reliant community,
You killed us with imposed liability,
Our lives are now placed in intensive casualty,
The word that remains imagination still is equality.
We lost our humanity and identity,
In your eyes, we are just a market and commodity,
Your play with scarcity, was a mere futility,
We finally became a society, filled with atrocity.
Your useless lectures of development,
Put us under frightening & irrecoverable unemployment,
For a few, you got us into a deep-rooted enslavement,
So, now for you instead, we make a replacement.
To my questions, you neglected and ran,
In your eyes, I am foolish stupid common man,
To you short-sighted range,
I say I will bring in a change!
Today, I may remain lower and mere viewer,
A day will come, where you will stand to answer,
Writing a new rule, I would seize your beloved positions,
This will be my lifetime mission and ambition.
I say with all my limited experience,
I will put a test to all your conscience,
Are you just a fat-big corporate’s hand?
With people will you always stand?
I am not an economist,
I am neither an egotist,
I proclaim! I proclaim!
I am a revolutionary economist,
I know you will fit me a label,
I am sure I will be an economic rebel,
A rebellious economist.
I dream a world without huge inequalities,
I dream a world free from imposed liabilities,
I dream a world without poverty and disparities,
I finally dream for becoming an economist with no ambiguities.
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 7:43 AM UTC
So you think you are a master of techniques of persuasion?
You shallow pips-squeak, mediocrity is your mastery
the obsequious hoi polloi that surround you are the pitiable averageness of conciliation
Sophistry and subterfuge are your game of compromised facts
syllogistic arithmetic conceptualizing doesn't make anything so
your addition is flawed by your bungled bombast of banality and guile
fortunately for you, your crowd will never study logic
fortunately for you semi-literacy is de rigueur
You pompous swollen grandiose mass of hyperbolic gas
Fear is what you offer, lies are what you sell
your rhetorical flourish is as the stench of a waste dump
fetid, corpulent, fallow and febrile
toxic
half-truths, innuendos, ambiguities, conjecture and asinine aspersions comprise your specious fare,
fostering rumours, manipulating facts, you are the purported Biblical brood of vipers so extensively reviled against
Your relevancy is attributable to the dull stupidity so profusely prevalent today
Your "success" is the stuff of taint and treachery
You'll probably choke to death on a stuck piece of poorly masticated flesh
so appropriate and befitting the demise of a professional liar
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 12:44 AM UTC
There is a Cheshire cat with a nefarious nose ring
Who lashes berating riddles, and vernacular that’ll make you cringe
He slithers through abandoned shadows
On dilapidated gravel, and bears a deathly sickle grin
Enticing as he may be, he only wishes to deceive
So be wary of his beguiles, they are hidden underneath his symmetrical smile
Nor give in to the plastic prophecies he preaches
Nothing he teaches will stitch meaning into your ambiguities
For he enslaves your sorrows and siphons your dreams
Leaving you asphyxiated in catatonic screams
Apr 1, 2010
Apr 1, 2010 at 11:26 PM UTC
Don't allow yourself to close your eyes;
To sleep or rest, to look away.
You see, you know,
They all lied to you.
Existence;
Immersed in it's ambiguities.
Meaningless suffering,
Life is unjust.
Left behind.
Drowning in real
Refusing to ignore,
It's killing you.
It is all truly there,
It is all that there is.
Onerous to accept it.
You're creating a war with a reality
Who only seeks to destroy.
Nearly lost elation,
Thoughts transmitted in times of joy,
Hope at times afforded.
Faint memories of it will linger,
Just try to hold on.
-
You think so highly of such a lowlife as yourself,
Or are you it?
Are you it?
Dec 10, 2021
Dec 10, 2021 at 7:55 PM UTC
Darling Dragon Blue,
Your life is a circus
full of ambiguities leaving you stumped,
unable to discern good from bad, truth from lies,
enemies from allies.
The Ring Master,
Master Illusionist,
Master Magician,
call him what you may,
he knows this,
he feeds off of this.
your misplaced trust
gives him power.
He targets you,
his spinning whip sings I love you,
Striking down hard on your soul,
drawing blood from your heart,
Painting hate in your eyes.
He announces you as his greatest possession,
his greatest achievement,
the love of his life.
But now the show’s over.
he looms over you
using his two faced mask to scare you back in your place
feeding off your insecurities and self doubt,
he grows stronger.
“Dance my boy Dance!” he cackles
‘STRIKE’
“Sing my boy sing!”
‘CRACK!’
he lines his whip with false love
to numb your pain.
But only for a little bit.
Only for a few seconds.
Long enough for you to believe it doesn’t hurt.
Long enough for you to forget his dagger words.
A damaged young dragon,
you burn your sorrow into the glass
when you whisper I love you to the mirror.
“I love you” it reads back.
and you feel so empty.
You realize you’re tired of performing on strings.
you yearn to dance freely, to soar high into the unforgiving sky
you want to burn this place to the ground screaming
“I loved you!” Roaring your mighty roar releasing your fright,
Spreading your mighty wings created for magnificent flight,
your bound legs unable to carry you,
you fall to the ground.
cold, helpless, the flame within you
threatening to die out.
The ring master finds you.
a confused frightened smile creeps onto his face
“I love you” he sneers
as he kicks you back into your cage
wondering why, oh why you tried to escape.
again with false love,
he manipulates you, a creature
endowed with so many beautiful talents and gifts,
not realizing he conditions his “ I love you’s” with pain, anger, and hate.
and you a mighty dragon only wish to control your own fate.
And so Enough.
you roar.
Enough.
The fire inside you erupts into a great blue star
transforming the carbon in your ribs into your
diamond heart,
melting your golden bones allowing you to change form.
For Darling Dragon Blue,
It is HE. that should fear you.
Darling Dragon Blue.
I LOVE YOU.
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 5:54 PM UTC
"Fight depression with chain smoking!" he says, half-joking
Fiddling with the lighter in his pocket
(He knows about her grandfather's lungs boxed up underground)
They will exchange the usual
Books, philosophical ambiguities and terrified uncertainties
Ideas of the unknown, which makes up more than the known
They will talk about how they would both rather die alone
Than surrounded by false pretense of love
Every night is an existential crisis, every other night one will feel strong
On the graveyard shift of saving the same life for the millionth time
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 12:27 AM UTC
You weren't sure when you knew it. You weren't sure where it came from. But sooner than later it enveloped you. It was your calling. No words, nothing written. Just a sense, a feeling that permeated your being. And finally you knew. No ambiguities, no uncertainties, no ambivalences. Just truth. It was intuition. No manuals, no table of contents. No advanced degrees required. It was your life, the rest of your life. It was the reason you were born. It was the reason you were on Earth. It was your destiny. There is nothing more to say except to follow it, your calling.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Aug 25, 2020
Aug 25, 2020 at 11:48 AM UTC
maybe we were two lonely souls in an
infinite number of universes
that coexists at the same time
so in the least cases when other universes
cease to rotate;
we were looking at each other’s eye—
half consciously exchanging breaths as we stood
in a random street on a random time with random people
in Metro Manila.
maybe we were two lonely souls
devoid of life with its absurdities and ambiguities
that when other universes began to move—
adverse was ours.
we were motionless and breathless
and static and frantic
amongst the dismal place where we stood
under the rain and under the heat of the sun;
*dear, did you feel the spontaneity of our souls
for the first time in a lifetime?*
maybe we were two lonely souls
searching for our own universe in this
infinite number of universes that when
we finally had the chance to meet on
a road with nowhere to go while listening
to our timeless symphonies of pleasure, pain, and lost;
we found universe at each other’s soul.
maybe we were two lonely souls
before we met in Metro Manila.
maybe we were two lonely souls
when we were living in abyss.
maybe we were two lonely souls
before we found our infinite universe at each other.
maybe we were two lonely souls
before we knew love.
(06.19.16)
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 7:40 AM UTC
money, fame, glory
Childhood was so rough the only option was to come up with a story
Adulthood came early and taught me to be discerning
But in a world full of colour hues its easy to pick the shivering blue
Fell into a whirlpool, a black hole so dark my memory vanished
But these lessons I learned taught me to survive in famish
So I worked for the juxtaposition because I deserve lavish
So stunning and blessed I came to be
Never let that light die in me
I knew I would make it with the right opportunities
So I learned how to be hardworking and ambiguities
A humbling story and sometimes sad
But I am grateful and cherish moments I will always have
But I moved on, looking good, getting back
Everything they took from me I used to have
Aug 27, 2021
Aug 27, 2021 at 10:14 AM UTC
Did you ever just sit and wonder,
how someone you barely know,
could impact your life so much,
in such a short amount of time?
How they could so quickly turn a
frown upside down?
How they were able to relight
a fire that burnt out
some time ago?
What is so special about them,
that they were able to get past
the walls surrounding your heart,
as well as, being able to
totally invade your thoughts?
The biggest question is how you could
trust another person, as easily as,
you trusted them?
Trusted them, even after you swore to yourself
that you would never, ever, be able to trust another,
after all the hurt and disappointment.
I have, and I do know that,
from the moment I met you,
I could feel safe in sharing
my most intimate thoughts.
I could share with you
my dreams and aspirations.
I could share with you
my hopes and fears.
Most importantly, I could
allow you to walk around
in my head, and in my heart,
So, now that you are gone,
why do I cherish
memories of you, so much?
Why am I left feeling
that I am only a distant
thought in your mind?
What more can I do to prove to you
that I am not someone who just speaks,
but also proves, by my actions?
Do you realize that I think of you often,
without truly understanding why?
Asking myself constantly,
why can't I just have you?
But, I know that, deep down in my soul,
I do not truly want you
when you have such doubts.
I want you free of any
fears and ambiguities.
Maybe the real, and most important question,
of why we were destined to meet,
will never truly be answered.
But, I do know that, regardless if,
I ever receive any answers,
I will never regret
the brief time I spent with you,
in the making of these questions.
Vicki A. Zinn
2011
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 10:56 AM UTC
Is life a course
or a curse,
a path
or a pathology?
Is living a blessing
or a lessening,
a miracle
or a mirage?
Is it a kiss
or a miss,
a tender touch
or simply a come-on?
The opposite of love
is not hate,
but uncaring,
simply not feeling.
Are all illnesses
psychosomatic,
a disguised, silent way
that we take out
our unconscious anger
against ourselves?
Love both clarifies
and resolves these ambiguities,
seeking always the better
over the worse.
Life can mean love,
but too often
means meanness.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Oct 1, 2021
Oct 1, 2021 at 2:57 AM UTC
There are precious few at ease
with moral ambiguities,
so we act as though they don't exist.
---Wizard of Oz in "Wicked," lyricist Stephen Swartz
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 9:41 PM UTC
my old street,
a perfect bicycle drag strip,
needed no gutters--all rains drained
into the bay
but today,
the lane where
I learned to drive, is a place gulls dance
and killdeer prance
this river
is a dozen inches deep
at street’s end, but a yard and growing at the bay
where the hot dog stand once steamed
the melting monsters
were a million miles from us, you know;
a threat to a Titanic, though surely inconsequential
to the Atlantic, or so it seemed
all the hype about heat, carbon emissions,
ozone’s demise, and other gassy notions, we thought
belonged in tomorrow’s world of worry
but tomorrow became today,
and now it’s commonplace to say,
"the shoreline receded--that neighborhood’s gone."
a continent constricted,
a lowly inch a year, by greed or divine design?
retribution from an earth that never forgets?
or a fickle force we cannot fathom?
I am ancient now, though I recall those admonitions,
ambiguities that fueled futile debate, until it was too late
and here I be, watching waters at low tide, lapping
against my feet on a once dry and driven street
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 4:32 PM UTC
Calloused fingers trace their intentions upon the smoothest silk of
skin, like waves reflecting the moon's light back to a sunless state of
day. We've braved the trenches of social interactions, the jungles of
communications, and have reached the plateau, contently entwined in
one another.
But the bell curve proved too willing to be true.
In a moment, I am that same boy falling from the sidewalk, draped in
misconception, losing vision to a passing stranger and sheer
coincidence. But this is no trauma of the head! I fear it is much more
vital, much more fleeting.
Much more needed, much more weary
Much more lethal, much more guarded
My mouth runs on empty when my heart stops supplying and I expect
only the worst. But the feeling's so appealing to just let go and lift up,
exhaust your ambiguities and leave fate to sift through it all.
Because I'm better than that.
Because You're better than that.
Because, at the end of it all, we're all better than that.
The wind will blow and the earth will spin.
Wars will be fought and men I'll never meet will demand obedience.
There will be new names, and legends continued.
Things will change, and things will never change.
This is not important.
I wrote this poem because I wanted you to know I think some things are.
I wrote this poem because I move too fast for my own good.
I wrote this poem because I am hopelessly hopeful.
I wrote this poem because you destroyed a black hole, and you don't even know it.
However,
Thisisnotimportant.
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 8:43 AM UTC
You wonder why love runs cold?
There is only so much hurt one heart can hold.
You have this unattainable expectation
That continues to be approach with hesitation.
The death of love will be your insecurities
And your constant accusations of ambiguities
How will the love last you say
When you are forced to go away?
Why is it never enough?
Why do you seek all the fluff?
When you fly off the handle
All it does is blow out the candle.
It's overwhelming at best
I truely hope there is something left.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 10:12 AM UTC
Projectiles piercing past years, tears and more,
All for nothing, nothing for all, but for what? What for?
Ruination of art, knowledge, wisdom: ambiguities of war.
Instilling fear, burdening bystanders- thrown asunder or ashore
The guiltless stream meanders as wings which soar.
Tyrants rampant like rebels on the range,
Hierophants justified killing for a cause,
Fuel-driven greed heeds a need for a change.
Actions bring reactions when blood meets the gauze.
Pause, hold the applause; the jaws withdraw.
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 6:02 AM UTC
Your back arched against my nose
The softness of you melting into my bones
I'm sure you're alright, I'm sure all is well
I wish you could tell me where you go at night
The morning light would be much more sweet
Without the worry and curiosity
Of your whereabouts and moral ambiguities
You and your bones are stretched across my bed
My black cat in the afternoon
Careless, magnificent loon
I could have sworn
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 5:10 PM UTC
Arise from autumn meadow
The days last thought
Of you who chose a path
Not measured or guided but sign less
And yet, you walk with purpose
Resting in unfamiliar territories
Aware of the incongruities of your route
And still, you had the vision
Earlier years were fraught with ambiguities
And muddy trails made for slippery ramblings
And then, you wrote a poem
Your heart found its medium; and soul, its pen
You write with depth in a shallow sea
How magnificent life is, when our path is clear
And the autumn meadow allows for one more thought
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 7:38 AM UTC
I love you in silence yet it echoes so loudly
Wishing to drown this but I love you profoundly
Empty promises to hide my insecurities
You'd still be here if it weren't for my ambiguities
At least now I know what those songs speak of
When the artists sing about lost love
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 2:02 PM UTC