"autodidact" poems
Hey man, what's good?
Good;
Is good.
It is good.
I am good.
Gin is good.
Air is good.
Art is good.
Tea is good.
*** is good.
Tao is good.
Zin is good.
Yin is good.
Life is good.
Zen is good.
Beer is good.
LSD is good.
We are good.
*** is good.
Love is good.
Cake is good.
Time is good.
Yang is good.
Wine is good.
Black is good.
Sleep is good.
You are good.
To be is good.
Syrah is good.
Logic is good.
Metal is good.
Piano is good.
Feet are good.
Water is good.
White is good.
Steam is good.
***** is good.
Legs are good.
Music is good.
Coffee is good.
Guitar is good.
Honor is good.
Poetry is good.
Colour is good.
Cheese is good.
Arms are good.
Cellos are good.
Portal 2 is good.
Respect is good.
T'ai Chi is good.
Writing is good.
Context is good.
Literacy is good.
Hands are good.
The Sun is good.
The Past is good.
Wisdom is good.
Humour is good.
Fingers are good.
Whiskey is good.
Friends are good.
Teaching is good.
Learning is good.
Thinking is good.
Empathy is good.
Dreams are good.
Cannabis is good.
The Earth is good.
Digestion is good.
My pets are good.
Harmony is good.
Discretion is good.
Shrooms are good.
The Moon is good.
The Stars are good.
The Future is good.
Meditation is good.
Experience is good.
Philosophy is good.
Spirituality is good.
Dissonance is good.
Knowledge is good.
Perspective is good.
Respiration is good.
My Guitars are good.
Being myself is good.
My lovers were good.
Civilization V is good.
My Computer is good.
Self-discipline is good.
Video Games are good.
Having a Body is good.
Having a Mind is good.
Team Fortress 2 is good.
Having a House is good.
Having a Mother is good.
Being a Philosopher is good.
Being an Autodidact is good.
Kerbal Space Program is good.
Being here and now as me is good.
Being alive as a Human Being is good:
Having this opportunity to experience this holy reality is more than I was ever guaranteed.
Thus I give thanks
to all of these things
and Thus I give thanks
for all of these things.
Thus I give thanks.
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 7:00 PM UTC
Each day I drive the Belt to work
with a million other slobs.
We pilot cars a decade old.
We're lucky, we have jobs.
Being stuck in traffic is no fun
so my eyes search for distraction.
Your bumper- stickered Civic
offers motorists didaction.
You've no shortage of opinions,
you're a child of hope and change.
gay women for abortion rights?
forgive me, that seems strange.
You're all for education ,
and it seems you're down on God
Your promotion of vasectomy
strikes me as rather odd.
We creep along at walking speed
in the misnamed morning rush
I smile at one old sign that reads:
"Lesbians against Bush"
I change lanes and creep up beside
this most amusing creature.
Shock and awe is what I felt-
She is our children's teacher!
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 8:02 AM UTC
On the planet where I live
gambling and narcissism
are recognized for the diseases they are
racism and homophobia
that's just people being people
Here
having a conversation with some is battle
mental exhibition bouts with jaw juggernauts
most only listen for their position to pounce
Never hearing a thing
favors and helping hands
well laid traps and plans sewing deeply rooted weeds
intended to bind over time
your worth is assessed by how much value you can acquire for other
animals are measured greater than people
it makes sense
People have yet to meet or even be human
Here
I'm not the type of Blackman you see on TV
six feet tall maybe taller over three hundred pounds
a well-read autodidact master of many things
On the planet where I live
that is considered a threat
Here
the goal is to populate Mars
before the pollution on Earth becomes inhospitable
to the people of Earth
after all
Mars is ours for the taking
Here
you're supposed to mow your neighbor's lawn
while your back yard is overgrown
while your kitchen burns down
On the planet where I live
all of this is common knowledge
some say sense
It's spoken of and considered
immoral and deplorable
Here
if you exist in any different or other way
you're labeled
one of the crazies and shunned
you’re supposed to know its wrong
not admit to it
© Christopher F. Brown 2015
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 5:42 PM UTC
i have come to believe in an astral rain
void of pain, sand-washed and bathed in chain;
from woodlands birthed.
empty hollow and arrow pierced navel
sever nurturing swallow bond,
still as kundalini pond - forgotten is this soul's bold pyre.
for distant fire closer now than e'er
regret older than thought which never,
alive in silence came - bolder taught and brighter.
my autodidact spirit lost;
some western breadth now more to east no cost
no woman nor man or beast in ahimsa feast.
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 7:25 AM UTC
Selection Criteria
We seek a person showing an authentic engagement with the culture of language. The applicant needs a broad appreciation of linguistic form and an inclusive approach.
Essential:
• Two good honours degrees from a top performing university - Or relevant experience as an autodidact or dilitante.
• A willingness to appreciate and engage in other people's expression of poetic form.
• Openness to the ways in which language is multimodal and able to blur the distinction between word, voice, sound, body and image, whilst being able to draw upon the conventions of each mode.
Desirable:
• Colourful life-history, and a keen eye/ear for human and natural dynamics, and the capacity to dissolve the distinction.
Please submit sample below:
There was a tree. Indeed, there was a tree... that night we played with Gertrude or some girl or boy or some other echo or other.
Had she not mentioned the issue with the fragmentary interjections by candidates? The capacity of evocation is lost with this fashion for modernism [Golden light of blue buzzard and some such and wot not before azure cream in winter time and crystalline glaze] and its reflexive interruptions. Perhaps she should start again. [Does it even need to be a word? And what is this anyway?]. Re: Start again - good lord we are forced to read some nonsense [in the steam rows and the bath cabin], often with a similar flow. What about the art of pleasing our palate? We bump our heads against the brackets, elliptical conjurings and compound punctuation: -
Oh! ... Out of time? Battery low? Well, this will have to be the submission then. Good luck.
Apr 18, 2020
Apr 18, 2020 at 7:02 PM UTC
A Poem For All The Publishers Who Say “No Poetry”
I’ve looked it up a million times –
(a little bit of overstatement never hurts)
I think in meter, think in rhyme.
It suits my temperament. Reverts
To chimes of nursery rhymes
Instinctive in us all –
This call to childhood’s guiltlessness.
Yet publishers of good repute
Refute this claim
And to their shame,
Their snobbish, profiteering shame,
Say No to poetry.
We should attack!
Abundant in attractiveness are we.
Ever clever, disciplined;
Deep, reflecting all reality:
And yet they say, “NO POETRY,
DO NOT SEND POETRY”.
Refused, rejected
Are we bards dejected?
Never!
We go on forever,
Eager in our hunger.
While you publishers go under,
We are there, bad, corny, muted,
Understated and astut-ed;
Couplets, meters, forms abstract,
Highbrow, lowbrow, autodidact:
Rumbling on like thunder.
A Poem For All You Publishers Who Say “No Poetry” 12.21.2016
A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Our Times, Our Culture II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;
Arlene Corwin
Dec 21, 2016
Dec 21, 2016 at 6:49 AM UTC
It is as if, as a intended intention, it was constantly going on, and even the stupidity of the free-thought minds is to be held; Now, beyond the world of tabloid media, the so-called. In the world of cheap, diluent-smelling influencers, which have been abandoned to pop culture, there could be a growing ruthless, almost intentionally brutal-hard competition for the sacred favor of followers and lyrics. Because now it seems as if all and everyone is a cheap, bribing, pathetic Jibs' sensation not only from the wide Cyber network of mass-information digital channels and networks, but also from the increasing decade its rather heating and determines it.
Now they can't dare to listen alone to the reasons of the already completely left -handed, which can be made, to be logically built -in clichés, because they are better off telling others what, where, where, and especially how to do it.
Personality as a temporary or if you like; an intermediate individual, no longer satisfied with the unrepeatable magic and perhaps specialty of the individuality of the individual. Cheap, dilute, reduced simplified sentences are grinding many cheap celebrity presenters on TV just like on the digital wavelength of commercially secured radios, and of course no one guesses, and knows that if pseudo-hazug news and rumors replace a poem, Perhaps the average brainwashed, hazelnuts of wild juggle men would be able to re-discover the small micro-capabilities of their thinking using autodidact methods.
It is as if this current vulnerable life seemed to be a pathetic, complex tangle, from which a safe panic-free release from a safe manifestation on asylum routes, as well as a fled mailer!
Jan 25, 2025
Jan 25, 2025 at 9:50 PM UTC