"answerable" poems
Medical preys;
unwanted grasses
on female pasture;
yet over determined to exist.
Victims!
to pleasurable sins
Murdered!
by we who bekoned them.
To save faces
and intergrity;
To erase footprints
and outcome of our sins.
but you never cease to surface,
at any ****** call;
Never afraid of the death
warrant
nor the murderous act.
Brave unborn souls,
sacrificial lambs
of human immorality,
''cleansing off our sins''.
Yet answerable
to any ****** call
wishing it sinless
by matrimony.
Beauty of a marital love,
essence of a matrimonial
act.innocent
of all innocents,
One with God!,
Wisdom of the ancient!
The first measures
of purity.
But; where goes
the astral wisdoms
after the humanization?
where you compelled
to be born,
revoltless of the ******
of your unborn kind?
was it karmic purposed?
Feb 16, 2010
Feb 16, 2010 at 10:01 AM UTC
it doesn't matter where
i am anymore--off in what's
being made clear...
over and over and over.
riding these bitchin' waves...
everywhere occurring to itself--
head tilted to the side, i smile in welcome.
it was always supposed to be this way...
the sky too needs to be freed up--
don't you know?
as a bird pulling air to its heart to
fly on it...don't you know?
look through anything you wish...
it can handle it--see exactly what
you want to see, after all...it's okay.
with that sung--i've come to know
she's looking my way.
it's all on end...a yogi sleeping on a
bed of nails.
i have forever to wait out her mind.
i can feel her falling--rushes of space
tightening around her body.
she's already been torn asunder.
inside she's answerable to no one--
i am empty enough, i am full enough
for just that.
Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 1:46 AM UTC
Do not ask me
why I am hurting.
Do not ask me
questions that are
answerable by
your very existence.
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 1:40 PM UTC
Often I have wondered
What must it be like to die?
How does it feel?
Painful or painless?
What does one think?
- Of achieved glories and exploits,
Of debts unpaid,
Or of emotions buried?
Does one feel sad to leave the stage,
Or happy indeed in the final act of the play?
But alas! Who shall tell me this?
For I know none who's
dead and come to demystify this truth of life
Known to no scientist, answerable by no teacher ...
But one thing I know
A long life is not my desire
To be wretched and afflicted is not my way
With disease I do not want to sway
For now my friends, let us
Not choose our requiem
For we have books to read, and
Places to see
And miles to go before we sleep.
Sep 20, 2010
Sep 20, 2010 at 8:02 AM UTC
...when today,
we wake up, feeling everything has gone astray...
ask ourselves questions, not readily answerable,
at times, are unanswerable...
...rest assured that...
...a moment comes...we reflect on changes,
and then before us, a new path emerges....
there's this ever growing community,
where lyrical outbursts are a variety...
new faceless names we meet,
minds and pens, together we co exist...
from our muses, enchanting ideas, so to speak,
where every dash and dot, poetic...
every poem of I, Myself, Me,
slowly but surely become Thy, Thee, We.......
come...
be in this corner,
be one of those minds from various nations,
with diverse thoughts and convictions...
where every poem is written with passion,
life's lessons, learned and shared...
come...
restless souls.
seek refuge in this haven,
be eased, calmed, be healed, here,
where every poet is part and parcel
of a world within a world,
a microcosm we call
...Hello Poetry...
Sally
Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 8:40 PM UTC
I am but a mad girl,
And you have taken my love song!
He is real, I assure you.
But my reality,
Flawed and inarticulate,
Makes questionable my answers
Rather than answerable to my questions.
I am but a mad girl
And you have taken my voice, dear Madam,
And created a world of flame and fancy!
My love song must be less
For surely I must be less.
Please madam, pity the poor mad girl
And relinquish my soul
So that the seraph and seraphim
Can once again bring my love to fruition.
Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 8:46 AM UTC
EVERYTHING IS NORMAL, NOTHING IS RIGHT,
ARE SOME THINGS BEST KEPT OUT OF SIGHT?
I DON'T WANT TO KNOW YOU - I THINK IT'S
BELOW YOU, I CAN'T STOP WHAT YOU WANT TO DO;
ONLY GOD WILL DECIDE ON THE THINGS WHICH
YOU MIGHT LIKE TO HIDE - IF YOU BELIEVE?
IF NOT - YOU ARE BEYOND REBUKE, CAN
NOT BE TOUCHED AND ANSWERABLE ONLY TO
YOURSELF; HOWEVER, FATE CAN TAKE A HAND,
SCATTER GRAINS OF SAND TO FAR FLUNG
CORNERS AND HEM YOU IN LIKE ANIMALS
WAITING TO DIE - NO ESCAPE, NO MATTER HOW
HARD YOU TRY; REMEMBER, WE CARE FOR YOU -
AND WHAT YOU DARE TO DO BUT JUST WHO ARE YOU?
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 1:04 PM UTC
He questions, he is not questionable,
He answers, he is not answerable,
His questions are not answerable,
His answers are not questionable,
He questions when there is no answer,
He answers when there is no question,
He questions and answers,
And answers and questions,
Till none questions or answers him.
He dominates, he is indomitable,
He corrects, he is incorrigible,
He takes respect, gives no respect,
He is dependent, not dependable,
Your success is his success,
His success is his own,
His failure is your failure,
He has all access, not accessible
He quotes to unquote,
Your unquote he quotes,
He is quite open; you keep quiet,
Your optimism is his pessimism,
Your pessimism is his optimism,
He comes up on others shoulders.
He loves his paradise of power,
He is the boss of his domain,
His realm of religion is bossism,
His sadism is unique and universal,
Arrogance is his lasting cup of tea,
His blood group is A-, Always negative,
He is the incredible boss in your life.
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 10:00 PM UTC
i.
Such is their reward, then,
This graceful bridge bisecting the lake at Bemus Point,
Not far from the spot where Bishop Vincent
Parsed the geography of the holy land,
Narrow beaches fronting a higgledy-piggledy of cottages,
Most comfortable but staid,
Though the odd McMansion grotesquerie
Has sprouted here and there,
Courtesy of some frozen-food magnate in Buffalo
Or casino second-in-command from Niagara Falls
(Those more famous waters, apparently,
Insufficient to slake ones thirst for the gaudy)
In any case, likely no more than admired from afar
By those generations of boys
Who, leaving their spot on the line at Crescent Tools
Or fields rife with bumble-striped heifers,
Never returned, drill press unmanned, corn crib unattended.
ii.
You’d been on those waters once, however,
Spending an afternoon both bewitching and idyllic
On a dock fronting a relatively humble beach bungalow
(A friend of a family friend or relative’s place,
The whos and whys lost to the manila folders of recollection)
With a girl of ten, perhaps twelve at the outside,
Beautiful in an untrammeled manner,
Or at least primarily, unconsciously so,
And you remember her having green eyes
Which utterly belied description
(Though that was all long ago,
Such reminiscence likely no more than the rheuminess of memory,
And you have not returned to that shoreline since.)
iii.
Such daydreams are perilous, on many levels,
At seventy miles per hour even more so,
And you shake yourself back to the present
While approaching yet another bridge
(Humble span noting humble beginnings)
Honoring the region’s most famous daughter and her husband,
Who did indeed have much ‘splaining to do,
As you proceed eastbound toward Salamanca
(Wholly owned by the Seneca Nation,
Those non-native descendants of Mertzes and McGillicuddys
Paying rent and fealty to the tribe each year)
And thence to the slump-shouldered hills
Which shelter the sauntering Allegheny,
The pines thick, green, inscrutable,
Beyond our everday squabbles,
Answerable to nothing but time itself.
May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 12:26 PM UTC
Noble people question my identity
I am arrogant, not answerable
They say I lack human's entity
Something physical, sounds sensible
They are noble, I don't question
They do look at me with suspicion
Think I do not conform to the norms
Laugh at my unrealistic intuitions
Don't like my love for Thor and thorns
They are noble, I don't question
'You are more of a gawk' they say
That doesn't disqualify me from being exploited
It's saddening to see myself at bay
Avoiding my source energy to be safe
They are noble, I don't question
But my thinking gives me blast
Everything around, is just past
I am the truth, I will last
Who is noble, I need not ask
The one who exists
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 2:36 AM UTC
In a world so crude and corrupt,
Our expectations are usually crushed, as people tend to be abrupt,
Who is there to look upto, in time of calamity and dire need?
They are the country's hope, uprooting all it's weeds
Army, a word that's short, yet demands respect,
From them, you can always expect,
Our lives, for them, are of greater significance than their very own,
Their brilliance and commitment are such, their every sacrifice is mourned
Days and weeks without food, water and family,
Be it a festival or a Sunday, they are never free,
They are answerable to none, for they are justice redefined,
For the country, they are equal to gods, never undermined
Pay your respect to the soldiers of fortune, stand tall and salute,
Let the patriotism flow within you, like the notes from a flute
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
Each one has got own opinion,
his own point of view about the outside world.
Listen to everyone,
since everyone has got his own experience about life.
Take there word of advice.
Speak with them, share your thoughts and ideas with them.
Since you have got a doubt there is nothing wrong in taking opinion of others.
Since experience comes along with time it's important to meet the demand of the present moment in time.
Now after listening to everyone it's time to think about everything that you have got in your mind.
Think only when you are absolutely certain about something.
Think when something positive and constructive can be ascertained about the future.
Think only if you are truthful, honest and answerable to yourself.
Undoubtedly, the right opinion makes a real difference in taking the right line of action.
Difference of opinion existed in the past and it remains even in the present
Different views on the same subject matter have always remained a part of everyone's life.
Everyone has to face a difference of opinion at some point of time in his life.
Still, even then at the end,
even before arriving at any conclusion,
listen to your inner voice.
Listen to the person inside, which always tells you something.
Listen to your conscious mind.
Definitely self-conscience plays a major role in solving the problem that you are facing
So, as and when, whenever it's possible,
always be yourself, all of the time.
Try as much as possible
Be truthful and honest to yourself
Definitely you will find the right direction
Once the right direction is sought, achieving what you have got as an aim in your mind will not be difficult.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 7:10 AM UTC
being in the presence of a person who must know everything
is drastically different than being by myself,
because I want nothing more than to obliviously exist
to only know what I have to
I have a hard enough time processing what happened years ago
and it just amazes me that you, who has been through so much,
who has seen and done and survived all these things I can't even imagine
that you still ask questions. that you still don't hide from these things.
You make me feel like a coward with all of your questions
But you also make me realize that maybe
I should start hunting my own monsters actively
maybe I should ask more questions
and maybe the answer to your ever pressing question
of how oil and vinegar became such fast friends
is that we needed someone completely opposite
to keep ourselves afloat
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
I would prefer my solitude and gift of self , answerable to Randolph and no one else ! I soulshine alone with the Earth , Wind and Sky as my trail with undying love and affection for all creatures .. Plastic ************* I've long since melted , molded into splendid candles that light my quest for guidance and direction .. Surfing the bell curve free of the pack instinct , armed with abundant memory , opposable thumbs and a mountain of creativity !
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 2:34 PM UTC
Extremists
tend to regard themselves
through a prism,
one of their own making,
faking exceptional,
answerable only
to their own scope for irrational
through which they see crystal clear
and consequently do not require
the inconvenience of relational,
the distraction of negotiational,
or those blind to their unique brand
of remarkable.
And occasionally, sadly,
they can sufficiently
fake credible to become
President
(which is not the same
as presidential).
Feb 25, 2022
Feb 25, 2022 at 9:15 AM UTC
The sky is where
prayer purges--
returned to sender,
in a wink.
Given to an
inner space full with what
needs eradication.
To the astonishment
of the sender,
prayer returned as a
greater space for
realization.
Prayer was never
sent, nor returned.
Prayer being... beginingless,
and endless.
There is only One
momentous prayer,
relegated to moments.
Where question and
answer grow out of
one another,
in dualistic interchange.
Till question, questions--
answer, answers...
to indistinction.
As question is questionable,
and answer is answerable...
to nothing but everything.
Prayer as doing--
to prayer as being.
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 5:46 PM UTC
It was and is
not easy for me
I beg don’t make it harder
You will not understand
and I can’t make you to feel
how it feels
when your body can’t hold your heart
How it feels
when you know in your veins
what you feel
but barricade between your body and mind
will not let you
feel your feelings
How it feels
when the world address you
Dude
and you afraid
the girl you are trying hard
to coffined in your heart
will show up
I wish I could show you
my pain filled abortive trials
to push hard
even the tiniest bulging meat on my body
deep inside into my skeleton
I wish I could show you
Pain of pretension
Pretension of walking straight
Pretension of speaking loud
Pretension of being brave
at the time of drooping in fear
that you will be identified
and termed as a queer
I wish I could make you realize
helplessness of being a public secret
anguish of dying out of respect
and living in agony
because your body
is not answerable to anatomy
When you all wanna prove your identity
I am begging you
please let mine go
because
my identity
can not be identified
by the tiny part between my legs
Please tell me
how long I need to beg
to find the place
where my body will not be dissected
to discover
my hearts gender
Please tell me
how long......?
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 5:18 AM UTC
We all die. There is no escaping the simple fact that life, as beautiful and filled with wonders as it is, is meaningless. Earth. A spinning ball of life and light, so free as a vision, yet we suppress these things. Let's build a house that will stand for three hundred years, when I will be here for a fraction of it's existence. Let's build a city around this house, and grow. But for what? You can work so hard for an accomplishment based on personal ideals, but it will be torn down and replaced with someone else's thoughts. We are cattle. To ourselves. We wait in a line of jealousy, pointing red fingers to the pure ones, and the pure ones turn impure. We mill around as if there is a purpose. We create, we sing we write we love we laugh we cry we grow, and we die. A lifetime of, anything, cut down because there is no because. There is no answer. There is no divine entity who overlooks us. There is no afterlife, resurrection, free floating energy, or cells that live on. There is eternal unconsciousness. Nothing. Black, or white or grey, or nothing. And we'll never know. We live in a space so small compared to the rest of everything out there. Past our planet, somewhere in the farthest reaches of the universe(es), there is life, bounding and free, true beings, maybe like us. Maybe they looks similar, and feel the same emotions. Maybe their emotions are different. Maybe their technology surpasses ours. Maybe they are primitive, waiting to learn. Maybe they are us, in the past. The sad, simple fact is that we will never know. We continue to spiral towards our own self afflicted demise, unknowing, selfish. All the wonders of discovery beyond us is lost in the folds of envy and anger. And our own natural timeline. You will die. Your family will die. Everyone you know will die, and there is nothing, absolutely nothing you can do to stop this change. We write poetry to staunch a certain emotion, or maybe to bring rise to one that we favor, but this is all nothing. Who cares about how your friend died, or how I broke up with someone, or how cute your cat is, or what boat you sailed on? It's pointless. Words only help to reflect the pointlessness of it all. We give voice to the sheer depression. Life is not a game, or a puzzle, nor is it an answerable question. It is, and always will be nothing in the end. I write to drain myself, to remind myself that I am in fact, a breathing, living human being, for the time. I write for the nostalgia of futility. For the embrace of hopelessness. Why do you write? Tell me, why bother?
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 4:47 AM UTC
*the worlds illness so pervasive,
the pandemic horror stories are my-brain-endemic,
so pervasive, every ache, tremor, is now virally suspected,
proof that my customized angel of death has arrived, I’m seizing up.
the latest wave session of walking depression, conflates both sides
of my brain, the intersection at right, left, the intellect is mowed
down with woe-down, by the stark reality of emergency facts,
apex or art, looking at months and lives ever trembilzed.
don’t even bother like I did at early firsts, when?
by asking where shelter, the raison d'être of my existence,
the poetry no longer synapses, the currents loop over and over,
the intellectual processes neutered by sadness virus un-encountered.
once upon a time I thought, even believed, that my life’s inquiry,
was answerable, with customized solutions for each,
but now, don’t believe in shelter of any kind, no,
acknowledging I’m so lost, no recovery efforts,
will be attempted.
Apr 12, 2020
Apr 12, 2020 at 1:44 PM UTC
I realised that Life
was a scheming, vile *****
the day I felt the pain
of a sudden, shattering loss
Indifferent, and unforgiving,
you may keep questioning it
fervently, relentlessly,
but it won't give you an answer.
Life isn't answerable to you,
It will cradle you with the
illusion that you're in control
Then will suddenly wihdraw,
And watch as you fall
Whoever spread the notion
that life was a gift,
forgot to mention that the gift was accursed
You could relish it for moments
But when it would be time,
It would leave you to darkness,
And never look behind.
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
White answerable
to white...black
the perimeter
sworn to silence.
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 1:23 PM UTC
All I wanted was you
All I know is reality
And the reality is
I don't have you
And I feel like
I'm just dust
Being swept away
And the truth is
Too much is changing
Too much is wrong
But baby I'd do anything
To be yours again
Sweetie I'm trying
But that's not good enough
Nothing I do ever is
And I'm fighting here
All alone
Wishing that our love
Didn't keep me running
Around trying to prove myself
I wish I saw the monsters
So I can believe in them
So I can be motivated by them
So I can really fight
So I can yell at their faces
Instead of yelling at an empty room
I wish God answered my prayers
And saved me
I wish I knew if He listened
I wish I knew
If my prayers were answerable
Or that He'd show me
What to do
What's right
Oh sweetie
Why is life so hard
Why are you so worth
A million hard lifetimes to me
I just want the ache to settle
I want to be safe
Baby all I want is you
And this fight is insane
But I'd fight through
And do anything to be
Back with you
My dearest husband
I will find a way
And it will hurt
For all the days
All the months
All the years I'm unsafe
But I want to be back
In those arms
So I'll fight
I'll find a way
Because our love
Is too special
To give up on
So baby will you
Just take my hand in spirit
And guide me on the right path
And I promise to follow.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
I start thinking about my mistakes,
So I think about what & all errors,
Those I made & the world makes.
Some special pattern is absent,
Fail I do to figure it out at all,
Prevent I do from letting the blame,
Shift on others for ruining,
What I did and what I do,
I am answerable to myself,
And no ****** **** else!!!
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 5:22 AM UTC
My shadow is the evil one
It has a sadistic mind
My shadow is deplorable
Not answerable to mankind
My shadow is the enemy
We are always fighting war
Black stain on my character
Rotten to its core
My shadow really scares me
It leaves an ugly mark
I always seem to conquer it
I just now go out when it's dark
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC