"asceticism" poems
abolitionism
absenteeism
absolutism
abstractionism
absurdism
academicism
academism
achromatism
acrotism
actinism
activism
adoptianism
adoptionism
adventurism
aeroembolism
aestheticism
ageism
agism
agnosticism
agrarianism
alarmism
albinism
alcoholism
aldosteronism
algorism
alienism
allelism
allelomorphism
allomorphism
alpinism
altruism
amateurism
amoralism
anabaptism
anabolism
anachronism
analphabetism
anarchism
anecdotalism
aneurism
anglicism
animalism
animism
anisotropism
antagonism
anthropocentrism
anthropomorphism
anthropopathism
antialcoholism
antiauthoritarianism
antiblackism
anticapitalism
anticlericalism
anticolonialism
anticommercialism
anticommunism
antielitism
antievolutionism
antifascism
antifeminism
antiferromagnetism
antihumanism
antiliberalism
antimaterialism
antimilitarism
antinepotism
antinomianism
antiquarianism
antiracism
antiradicalism
antirationalism
antirealism
antireductionism
antiritualism
antiromanticism
antiterrorism
aphorism
apocalypticism
apocalyptism
archaism
asceticism
assimilationism
associationism
asterism
astigmatism
asynchronism
atavism
atheism
athleticism
atomism
atonalism
atropism
atticism
autecism
authoritarianism
autism
autoecism
autoeroticism
autoerotism
automatism
automorphism
baalism
baptism
barbarianism
barbarism
behaviorism
biblicism
bibliophilism
bicameralism
biculturalism
bidialectalism
bilateralism
bilingualism
bimetallism
biologism
bioregionalism
bipartisanism
bipedalism
biracialism
blackguardism
bogyism
bohemianism
bolshevism
boosterism
bossism
botulism
bourbonism
boyarism
bromism
brutism
bruxism
bureaucratism
cabalism
caciquism
cambism
cannibalism
capitalism
careerism
casteism
catabolism
catastrophism
catechism
cavalierism
centralism
centrism
ceremonialism
charism
charlatanism
chauvinism
chemism
chemotropism
chimaerism
chimerism
chrism
chromaticism
cicisbeism
cinchonism
civicism
civism
classicism
classism
clericalism
clonism
cockneyism
collaborationism
collectivism
colloquialism
colonialism
colorism
commensalism
commercialism
communalism
communism
communitarianism
conceptualism
concretism
confessionalism
conformism
congregationalism
connubialism
conservatism
constitutionalism
constructivism
consumerism
controversialism
conventionalism
corporatism
corporativism
cosmism
cosmopolitanism
cosmopolitism
countercriticism
counterculturalism
counterterrorism
creationism
credentialism
cretinism
criticism
cronyism
cryptorchidism
cryptorchism
cubism
cultism
cynicism
czarism
dadaism
dandyism
defeatism
deism
demonism
denominationalism
despotism
determinism
deviationism
diabolism
diamagnetism
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC
I want to make poetry
from poverty.
I eschew women.
I buy nothing.
I eat little.
I own less.
I have neither
TV nor cellphone.
This is not asceticism.
I just want
to know the bones
of life before
I become
the bones of death.
~mce
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 9:12 AM UTC
Attachment to anything is bad karma.
Naked in the winter.
One must wait for a solar eclipse.
One must not sweep out ants
One must not expect,
The exit sign instigates the young lady.
Asceticism surrounds the skyline
Releasing waves of regrets
For all to borrow, but only should one commit to self-control.
The database system
Functions off The 5-Human Senses
Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 2:11 AM UTC
The successor lives a life of taught
asceticism, corrupted by nothing, but a heart and
a mind, his own drum and band
and beat.
Worries escape his unlocked hell,
his key molded not in the same fire,
she once left me to burn.
Oh how I long for emancipation,
unaffected freedom and thought.
But I feel a pull toward you and
an arrow shot from her being,
stabbed and wounded,
the speed unbearable.
Dark red **** flooding river,
flowing from the hole,
her existence, vitality,
breathing heart, opened wide my ocean.
Why does your effect,
still burn,
infect, still
keep my innards
wanting, longing,
for a patch.
Oh sew and needle me!
Jealousy and need
and human lust and self
absorption never so felt strong her sting.
I miss this fire,
still, the pain from her.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
Sunlight
kaleidoscopic/
hue of auburn
mirror
nearby the shaded opal porch/
burning bulb machinery makes the whole living room wider/
I wake and remember
dreaming that I broke my nose/
"The Art of Looking Sideways" on my desk
the bookshop explosive PIN The Price is Right coffee mug
(dad got it in California 2008)
outside looking in thru
the bedside window/
dusty blinds
stone faced from sleep/
thoughts are still wandering Luang Prabang
gathered to the streets to give alms to the boys practicing
Asceticism yet still
obsessed with love
whether they know it yet or not/
open my front door
in this basement suite
the brick is bright and blinding
squint my eyes
tho it's lovely the spiders
hover camouflaged in hedges separating
my house from
the other house/ I'd like to see Laos in person one day
beyond spirit
to get sunburned
and somewhat holy
write my poetry
in front of Haw Kham's
aureate walls jeweled with palm green/
lucid thoughts/
I'm a pilgrim in my paracosm/
Morning tea, sat down, Cafe Terrace at Night to my left
and to my right
the hazy lamp that has a shade textured like
a gas planet
May is 'round the starry bend/
Cherry trees are more comfortable now I think
and that's fine/
Met a gypsy on the bus two nights ago
she wished me a happy life
I hope so
... and likewise to you/
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
My successor lives a life of taught
asceticism,
corrupted by nothing,
but a heart and a mind, his own drum
and band
and beat. Worries escape
his unlocked hell. Possessing the same
antique key, molded
in our old hurried erstwhile
intimate flame.
She once left me to burn.
Oh how I long for this emancipation,
unaffected freedom and thought,
turned to open a heart’s beating lock.
But still I feel a pull towards her
and an arrow shot from her being,
stabbed and wounded,
the speed unbearable.
Dark red ****
a flooding river,
flowing from the hole,
drowned out our pyre,
poured down a love’s last lung.
Her existence, vitality,
and sharpened breathing clock
opened wide my ocean.
Why does your effect,
still burn, infect,
still
keep my innards
wanting, longing,
for further cooling plaster
and my retired
matron master.
Oh sew and needle me.
Jealousy and need
and human lust
and self
absorption never stung so deep.
I miss this arrow’s fire,
and blazing tip,
cutting at heart’s fibers,
probing at psyche’s delicate despair,
replaced now, by another,
a latest fair haired heir
to my sweet woeful blunder.
Yet you’re my only bygone brunette.
And the marks left from a glowing brand
remain scorched,
internal.
Still I cherish
a pain-past impression
and your heirloom flames
used as sacred protection.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
I remember you from a past life..
whence too many questions occupied my mind. Back when fun was all that mattered,
and tears ran freely down my face.
Far before I found the courage within myself to know, to intuit, which fork in the road led home.
I don't miss you, I can't.
Because I know what it's like to miss you,
And simply..
I don't deserve that kind of punishment.
Anymore.
I have suffered enough.
Do you know what 'asceticism' is?
It means..
To abandon everything you know,
and love, willingly.
To embark on a journey,
in search of your Self.
To return, a different man,
to a different place.
A mere walking,
and a mere becoming.
It's chaotic, for a man without faith.
To have done
what I've done.
To have felt what I've felt.
Time really does wait for no one.
You see..
A man does not attain the highest goal,
or awaken the Supreme Truth within himself in a habitual habitat. All the Sages pointed in the same direction, and my heart was drawn; Twas my calling to become.
Twas like magnets to the metals in my blood.
They said:
"Search, and you will find."
So I did, and I have found my purpose,
if that means anything to you.
To move, is to live. To remain static is death;
One of many affirmations
I've asserted, and adhere to.
I'm a man of virtue now, believe it or not.
Because I know what it's like to die,
to perish, at last.
Its a breath of fresh air.
To lay your head down, once,
after slaying waves of inner demons,
in the darkest of chasms of the mind.
For six long years, at last.
..At last.
But I also know what it's like,
to be reborn.
To acquire new perspective.
To move toward the light;
to find the exit, out of the dire,
idle hopelessness I made my home.
To desecrate my soul, from the grave,
to the garden I could smell,
but could not touch.
And to allow beauty, the privilege of my perception.
And to laugh, to laugh!
At last..
..At last.
And I have a feeling..
That this journey..
This..
Odyssey, I embarked on,
was not walked alone.
You were forced to walk it with me.
You must have felt an egregious pain.
To be left, alone, with a child to care for.
To have questioned the integrity,
of the only man you ever loved,
without an explanation.
To have wondered if that love was ever real.
To have thought yourself a fool.
Used. Played.
I know I made your biggest fear, reality;
And you were much too pure, too innocent.
Too inexperienced to have seen it coming,
or to cope, or to maintain your composure.
You must have questioned your faith.
But I bet you've grown so much.
Don't hate me for that.
If it accounts for anything..
Let it be known:
You were the last woman to have conquered my heart, and I have worshipped no other woman since.
I forgive myself;
And I allow Love
into my life.
...and I hope you do too.
-Raziel
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 9:45 PM UTC
words in a poem
must they be comprehendible?
you'll read it regardless and get a sense
what I'm feeling is different
something you havent
I'm in a weird place
a high medium
charged by the moon
drained by you
time apart to do what we do
disappear into the day
hide in the night
don't you know that im the light?
shine bright like a diamond
atop a neptunian peak
colored skies
more power is what I seek
forget you, I've got two me's to handle
a duality of ego and asceticism
conflicting sights
one light
its time to help myself fight.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
You drew, quite adeptly I might add,
a comparison between me,
(or your thoughts of me)
and the billowous smoke drifting,
softly flowing,
from the flame charred nostrils
of some old dragon.
I would, if you’d allow such a poetic
intrusion, add some minor details
(As I enjoy the image immensely).
The first is that the dragon be a figment,
a glimpse of mountainous countryside
conspiring to be, from one angle,
A dragon of momentous proportions,
its nostrils the dual chimney of some familiar
house, its occupants keeping some stoic
dream alive, stomachs slightly less full of
asceticism, feet full of soles. The dragon’s teeth
an old picket fence, a relic to an outdated
conception of “living” and perhaps that
scaly plaque at the center of its forehead
is not armor, as I would have insisted
in those years prior to our meeting,
but is rather a patch of dense forest
not yet explored by tiny pittering feet,
not yet absorbed by the eyes of children.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 8:07 PM UTC
By some Sourdough monk in Northern Europe Patron Saint: The Drunk Monk of Nimbus HERE you will find the only reliable treatment to solve all your psychiatric and medical problems.
The Drunk Monk has won many awards for his unconventional experimental treatments.
All of the Four Pillars of Understanding have been found to contain gold along with the Mayan Calendar. The importance of this breakthrough is that you may rid yourself of the ‘Woolsey Complex’ of whatever madness has brought you here today!
You need not pay the traditional price of gold this Buddhist monk can supply cheaply (assuming you don’t mind that this saint was turned away from the Inn In Henley upon Thames, over 1,000 miles from here!) in which you’ll find:
1. A helpful cosmic energy: energy from the Emperor of the Universe! He’s like Santa Claus without the jolly youthfulness or lack of living relatives.
2. Dependable transportation: the Holy Nimbus Scooter. Just take that scooter, turn it upside down, and it’s a see-saw!
3. All 4 Pillars of Understanding: the number of boatloads of cash that you’re destined to receive from unknown sources, and soon you’ll be having tea with the Queen!
4. Also, all the Five Pillars of Wisdom: I won’t be delivering the 5th but you already have it, don’t you? (He’s helping you move! You’ll see what I mean!).
The drunk monk uses a dozen different methods to get you “saved!” First, you’ll need to drink a liter of ***** every day Do you think he’s kidding? Then, and only then, will you learn that Zen Buddhism has been around for a long time and yet doesn’t have any tradition of drunken asceticism!
On the contrary, you’ll learn that Zen Buddhism was an old tradition of Buddhism in which monks exalted in quiet prayer could use liquor in their meditation and drink it out of respect for the Emperor of the Universe.
You’ll also learn that in the original 4th Pillar of the Buddha’s teachings, the monk used no alcohol but on his first miracle he just drank a glass of sake without soiling himself. The Drunk Monk will help you as he helps other desperate people who are down on their luck.
Give me your name and address and I’ll let you know when I can see you next!
:: 09.25.2020 ::
Share this:
Oct 3, 2020
Oct 3, 2020 at 2:47 PM UTC
“There is a place for us in the enclaves afore,
Where the blackbirds sing and flowers bloom,
As our love propagates and creates our passions,
And our allot filled longing of embracing,
We have always reaffirmed to be with each other,
When I am alone that is my only breach,
A breach of passion love and scent of your body,
Futurity without you would be altruism of sorrows,
Cognizance of her near acquittal of my flaming ardor,
Nothing to regret as we long to hold each other,
Surely in the eyes of others there more alluring,
Or in the eyes of others more captivating than thee,
In my eyes and throughout my life you are my aristocracy,
A symbolic meaning of true love within ones heart,
This I share within humanity my heart and soul,
Entire gratification is the crapulence of my love,
Being isolated with her and her alone,
I was lost into the tenderness of her eyes,
I believe a fiery passion will exist in our tombs,
My sonnet is added with laments of laconism,
In end we will be on two estuaries of different paths,
As I feel the sound of the stream pulsate in my torso
I chose the lonely one which will make for asceticism,”
By A. Guzaldo 06/29/2018 ©
By A. Guzaldo 06/29/2018 ©
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 10:59 PM UTC
Asceticism is based
A pure thought
Not a clean robe
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 5:27 AM UTC
Beseeching now the sonic heavens
Seeking for accord to find
The clashing titan symphonies
That prove their muse is most divine
Unto my mind's tranquility
She whispers of the ocean's roar
As Aphrodite tickles toes
The nereids lovely voices soar
Above the selfish dins and sins
A wispy dragon's spirit flies
Azure scales bejewel the breeze
In prisms of translucent skies
Arisen humanist condition
My surrealist exhibition
Abstract art asceticism
This is my Elysian vision
Timeless in a Gilded Age
Where all may dream of being free
To Helios I offer peace
And sacrifice the Ares me
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 1:37 AM UTC