"causation" poems
Life and non-Life are part of a system-- a "system-like" system, but one nonetheless.
Where Entropy's that which is hidden from us--
and Information without meaning is total chaos.
But hold.
Poets, Bards & Thieves.
Of shame, of game, of blame, they speak
of secrets on the leaves.
In more or less a drunken mess, their simmered shimmered consciousness
could barely rarely quite express what causes them to grieve.
After some hesitation and liquid persuasion, the only collusion this final conclusion:
*Pain is entropic; Extra-sensory stimulation
received as distortion via sensory limitations--
Confusing the mind refusing the signs, forcing us to shutter the blinds.
But what is behind? Unveil pain's curtain and what do we find?
Contextualisation, possible causation-- Mind-Body integration without hesitation--
palpable, abstract Information dissemination!*
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 12:05 PM UTC
I'm half asian so everyone thinks I speak 'asian'
Which just goes to show their ignorance, thinking that's a language
Another strange causation because of my 'asianness' is that I:
Can always win arguements with Wyatt by stating this fact
Was declared a ninja even before my skills were proven
I surprise people with my appearance and when I reveal my ethnicity as they believe initially that I'm mexican, italian, or spanish
Was assumed to have gone to the same church as all the others
Am considered strange, exotic, weird, genius, awesome, and stupid
Am endearingly called a 'short asian woman/lady/girl' by friends
Oh and I love love love love chopsticks, rice, and spicy foods.
Pass the srirachi and pepper please
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 11:47 PM UTC
Tears fall from my eyes
An unhappy little surprise
When the causation is unclear
And my rock is no longer here
An overbearing sadness
A disgraceful neglect of bliss
A torn sense of sanity
Cannot stand their sympathy
Frustration creeps in
A war I never win
Uncontrollable thoughts quickly flood
The only desire I have is to evoke blood
Why I cry is a mystery
Time-travel back into my history
Search for the beginning, the start of it all
The primary moment of despair that led to my downfall
Leave me to cry into a scattered slumber
As my insomnia persists to encumber
Constant nightmares slice up my sleep
A tedious life I am suffering to keep
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 12:08 AM UTC
More folk need to learn
About Cause and Effect
Respecting others
Is fundamentally what earns respect
My dad was raised Christian
Episcopalian
But left
No disrespect
He just wasn't convinced
So when I was a child
Our attendance at church was
sporadic
Sometimes a source of contention
And, usually, more pain than joy
The summer of 1969
Men walked on the Moon
And my parents
Split
My dad moved across town
I saw him one day each weekend
The most time we had ever spent together.
When I was twelve the earth moved
Sixty-four people died
And my father embraced Buddhism
And Buddhism embraced him
In a way nothing else ever had
and he learned moderation
Regaining his freedom
What got him was the Law of Causation
Cause and Effect
What goes around comes around
The Golden Rule
Unencumbered
With the baggage from his past
The philosophy of common sense
His pianist's artist's teacher's mind
Could comprehend
Grasp and hold for good
My twelve-year-old mouth
Would not be denied
And so I one day announced
That chanting
Was simply another form of prayer
A fact he acknowledged
reluctantly
but ultimately
with humor and grace
And was it my father's turn to Buddhism
That sparked my own
Journey into Spirit?
In 1972
With Godspell on the radio
I saw Jesus Christ Superstar
At the Universal Amphitheatre
Twice
And when my sister joked
"Let there be light"
And all the lights came on
Then she genuflected
Before taking her seat
It was only partly in jest
For there was reverence in the air
And a sense of the Eternal
The foundation of the story
Of every story
Cause and Effect
Later that year I was baptized
Before I realized
That no church held the key
For the key was within me
As it resides within us all
More folk need to learn
About Cause and Effect
We are here on earth to Love.
And respecting others
Is fundamentally what earns respect.
6/7 July 2005 Approx. 2 AM
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 1:36 AM UTC
genuine
so many ordinary bees in our vocab hive,
workers, important, but rarely seen,
some never, or rarely trotted out,
no-fresh air, we just must be too too, too
busy, busy
had occasion to employ said titular
queen word recently, a love story
that strummed a chord of the
randomness of good love,
genuine slipped out unexpectedly,
this word, a crowning modifier to a
love poem herein written
truly a word not used too often,
perhaps because we live in a time
when it is a quality rare, though
much celebrated, like so much,
has becomes a debated talking point
but genuine is not hard to be
uncovered, it has a warmth heater
generator internal, a signal signal,
that is hard to be disguised or
mistaken
but our sensitivities are dulled,
easily misled, by the shouting and
the latent bitterness that runs through
the veins of our ordinary conversations,
making it more difficult to believe our
five sensory discernments, to what is,
and what is not,
but love, perhaps, is a genuine genetic,
at a cellular level quality that has evolved over millennia, so easier to spot, it’s heated hot, and awhy a love story should be the focus causation of my happiness, that it
yet thrives, and functions and supplies
we humans, a chance to see, to believe,
that genuine yet exists, inward and
unwarped, within we ordinaries
Jan 20, 2025
Jan 20, 2025 at 9:19 AM UTC
My heart lay in a cloudy, milky state,
its cold, harsh pressure building up within,
leaving me to gaze, masking purpose.
My eyes, dull, hid the fervor,
encasing it in between my lips,
locking them together; smiling.
My breath remains methodical,
sweet melodies juxtaposed,
along my ears and lungs.
Feet pacing, heart staying,
I cannot last; ba-thump,
my hands begin to tingle.
One look, no words;
head spinning away,
there is no closure.
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
I have always had a wild imagination
Especially when I was younger
A endless flow of questions
Of everything across the nation
I wanted reasons, causation
I wanted to know the foundation
The formation
About any human creation
I had this fixation
It helped me make relations
But at times ended in frustration
At times my questions seemingly
lingered in the air
And I always stared
At it Suspended
As if time stopped
But only for me
Until an answer appeared
Because I couldn't move on until I knew
But majority of the time
An answer never came
It caused me to boil in pain
And steam sizzled my thirst for knowledge even thought the heaviest rain
As if the world believed this was all some child's game
Each raindrop pounding against my body were punches against my soul
Droplet by droplet
I wanted to scream stop it
But then water filled my mouth from the sky's faucet
Like I never grew out of a child's fantasy
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC
Sleepless, lost and wandering
Wondering what it all means
Beg the heavens for an answer
But silence is the only response from an overcast sky
The chain slackens and the cage drops
Cerebral bars block the paths of elated reflection
Contentment occasionally slips through the clefts
But is instantly devoured by sharks of agony
Grief, heartache, passion and sorrow
The artists toolbox
Blood, sweat and tears (fears)
Causation of our desire to die
Is what gives our work life
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 7:50 PM UTC
Said darling daughter unto me:
"oh Dad, how funny it would be
If you had gone to Mexico
A score or so of years ago.
Had not some whimsey changed your plan
I might have been a Mexican.
With lissome form and raven hair,
Instead of being fat and fair.
"Or if you'd sailed the Southern Seas
And mated with a Japanese
I might have been a squatty girl
With never golden locks to curl,
Who flirted with a painted fan,
And tinkled on a samisan,
And maybe slept upon a mat -
I'm very glad I don't do that.
"When I consider the romance
Of all your youth of change and chance
I might, I fancy, just as well
Have bloomed a bold Tahitian belle,
Or have been born . . . but there - ah no!
I draw the line - and Esquimeaux.
It scares me stiff to think of what
I might have been - thank God! I'm not."
Said I: "my dear, don't be absurd,
Since everything that has occurred,
Through seeming fickle in your eyes,
Could not a jot be otherwise.
For in this casual cosmic biz
The world can be but what it is;
And nobody can dare deny
Part of this world is you and I.
Or call it fate or destiny
No other issue could there be.
Though half the world I've wandered through
Cause and effect have linked us two.
Aye, all the aeons of the past
Conspired to bring us here at last,
And all I ever chanced to do
Inevitably led to you.
To you, to make you what you are,
A maiden in a Morris car,
IN Harris tweeds, an airedale too,
But Anglo-Saxon through and through.
And all the good and ill I've done
In every land beneath the sun
Magnificently led to this -
A country cottage and - your kiss."
1.8k
did you crumble against a wall
did you fall to your knees
or did you stay standing numb
when you cry do you sniffle and scream
or do you hold it in
till blackness consumes you at night
I wouldn't know
Because I will never be a causation
But I've broken enough hearts I could guess
I may not know how you hurt
But I do know your eyes
cried my tears
every time your heart was broken
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
<•>
Good Acts are like Good Poems
*"Good acts are like good poems.
One may easily get their drift,
but they are not rationally understood"*
Albert Einstein
Ach, mein guter Kumpel!
Ach, mein bester Freund!
how could I not have known,
the syncopation, the synchronization,
between what I write, and the impetuous impetus within,
that caustic sense that burns words
from my chest
directly onto the paper
are more than correlated,
even causation-ally related
after all, you, naturally, the master of relativity
but you know me Al,^
I, the quibbler from NYC*
have to have a slightly different take,
in my gemeinschaft city of eight million strangers,
we always must have eight million and one
opinions
true dat, when I am on the fifth or sixth stanza,
realizing got no clue what the poem is rambling about,
but it sounds so good, lovely, pretty words,
why ***** it up with scientific rationality?
but good acts are easy, uber understood,
rationally we live to survive and
do what we to
make the species survive, common sense triumphs,
disguised as sacrifice, forgetting to roll the dice,
doing what comes like a good poem,
and what needs doing or writing
is so intuitively obvious,
just love poetry,
a global necessity
so check out Houston in two thousand and seventeen
here's hoping life in heaven ain't boring
know that you've seen, peeked, peaked,
at the theory of everything,
resolving the contradictions
between general laws of physics
and those pesky tiny quantum mechanicals,
even solving that 'other' equation
GA = GP
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 6:53 PM UTC
The primal cause,
A distinguishable passion.
Irrevocable truth unabided by
Beliefs expressed in dimensionality.
The fire with me burns,
It churns and rises.
Power self-contained
Is glory in it's own fate.
I enter the lair of truth
And seek no counsel.
Therefore I revel,
Proceeding with conviction
Expressing imagination
My minds eye proclamation.
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 11:52 AM UTC
Sitting behind a computer screen
Trying not to succumb to the temptations of self-loathing
Media has become the cause of my downfall
And the primary causation of self infliction
For months and years I thought and believed
That I was fine, that I was okay
But the slightest contemplation of death
Still brought me relief
I find my fingers running through the keys and letters
Scrolling past every page and article
The demons feed on the lack of confidence
The low self-esteem
And I, the degraded human being
I still set a goal for non-existence
A perfection too impossible to achieve
Yet I know that I’ll always be another face in the crowd
Another flame that’s about to die out
Another girl with too many scars,
Another girl bound to fall apart
n.j.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 1:33 AM UTC
i found you like an unnoticed treasure at a garage sale
hidden near old sheets and dusty furniture
and your arms were the bubble
outside of which was only reality
and a thousand things i didn’t want any part of
you told me you’d lived entire lifetimes in dreams
so we slept next to each other to see what would happen
and somewhere along the way between dreaming and not
between pillow talk and nagging questions
i forgot i was supposed to be able to let you go
where were you last night
when i found the secret room behind our bed?
i was trying to tell you, but i could only whisper
and you were sleeping so not even bagpipes could wake you
you told me you wanted just one truth to build from
and i said the truth is a question
just a game that we’re losing
with rules that pretend at dimension
but dimension is a lie
a figment
a fragment of us and tea yesterday
and you said no, there is more than that
because here we are, and what are we?
and i said we are a ripple in the rain.
you believe in substance and i believe in you
but we are made of limitations and hesitations
we are only patterned variations
we have left our shoes at the door of causation
and i forgot i was supposed to be able to let you go
Jul 22, 2012
Jul 22, 2012 at 1:03 PM UTC
Egalitarianism
I’ve preached this practice
To its last final straw
Respite
I’ve hired the time
The strongest of clocks
Magnanimous
You’ve endeavoured too
It’s never true when you do
Coercive
I’ve attempted them all
The mightiest of guns
Vestibule
You never did let me enter
Probably knew I’d hide out
Vertiginous
Causation; I know it’s you
To Induce; I flail barely flickering
Transcendental
I divide you into parts
But your logic seems boundless
Perennial
I will continue to bloom
Even after your harvest.
Jan 16, 2011
Jan 16, 2011 at 3:13 PM UTC
Existence an exclusive dragnet
In full production
Operational destruction
Within the dwelling
Mass reduction
Applied obstruction
Void of causation
Internal mutation
Alien nation
Self degradation
On the street
Compartmentalization
Non fluctuation
Auto narration
Nonessential validation
Superseded ideation
While dormant
Comatose automation
Surreal anesthetization
Feeble realization
Pending extermination
Attend the institution
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 1:28 AM UTC
Nor angel, nor man, nor brute,
Nor body, mind, nor he nor she,
Before the sun, the moon, the earth,
Before the stars or comets free,
Before even time has had its birth
and the Causation’s law,
there was the immortal dream of love
that embraced everything.
Jun 11, 2022
Jun 11, 2022 at 6:16 AM UTC
I keep slicing reality
With the Knife of Reason,
Yet brushing winds
Carry scents of hope.
Neuron connections of
Misconceptions -
Is that causation
Or empty words?
I keep dicing my days
Climbing the ego
Of a shoreless mind
You keep coming my way
Wearing nothing but bands
Around your thighs -
Limelight moments.
Ticking clocks.
Shivers
Down my spine.
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 10:46 AM UTC
Resilient
The poets heart
Words we use
Turning pain to art
Chronic stress
A syndrome no less
Our muses behold
The Mother's breast
Fight or flight
Sympathetic states
We resolve upon
Our creative slates
Breaking through
Rising above
Poetry becomes our strongest drug
When the fever flares
Word are but aspirin
And the poem becomes our cure
An observation I made while
living here,
on HP!
Jul 15, 2021
Jul 15, 2021 at 8:43 AM UTC
Plush carpet, soft light
Hotel foyer at night.
Oh, what a fright!
I might be a looker,
don’t mean I’m a ******
Did my lipstick suggest that I might?
“Madam, how you like this play”?
The disgrace on my face gives me away.
What did you think I was going to say?
“Hey, Jack, let’s get out of this place”?
(That’s three questions in four lines
so for clarification of this causation
my effect carries no invitation).
It’s a case of mistaken identity:
You didn’t sent for me,
so can’t pay rent for me.
Baby, I ain’t no lady… of the night.
That’s not why I came here,
and it’s not the same, dear.
Quit with the Shakespeare!
This chick has much to protest.
To signal intent for your frontin’
you should wear a carnation or somethin’,
be discreet, don’t hang out the bunting.
So, I attract, I won’t deny fact,
but your attention is bordering on hunting.
It’s a case of mistaken identity:
You didn’t sent for me,
so can’t pay rent for me.
Baby, I ain’t no lady… of the night.
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC
I set up a place
to mourn,
like a Mother & her dead,
a deep & sacred peaceful bed,
she sleeps & she weeps,
beneath,
a vigilia soaking moon,
a flickering flame
of love snuffed out way too soon,
& boy that thing can really croon,
Death of a friendship,
& maybe romance,
gone in the wind,
we hadn't a chance,
or a last dance,
a last shooting star
came in cutting in deep
left a painful, poignant scar,
dug it down just a little bit too far,
put it on the shelf and put it in a jar,
You're shining,
& I'm the one who's endlessly whining,
because your light,
your light is ever shining so very bright,
shining, shining, shining,
a heart is ever-pining
Cuz' I sit 'neath the florescent light
that took my sweet & needed sight,
exposed to your external radiation,
composed in your internal frustration,
imposed by your nocturnal causation
& endless is the aggravation,
Wanting to glow & wanting to go,
wish that I didn't ever know,
that florescent ink, I stare & blink
Never stop to wonder & think,
Hey I'm burned, I'm blinded
you think I would be reminded,
you know I never really learned,
such star crossed lovers
never under starlit skies
& star kissed covers,
over me they hover,
hover
I got a million reasons to let you go
& ya you know,
ya know,
I should run for the hills
take some kinda pills,
lose every bit of my will,
I should just.....
walk away,
No I should never let you leave early
or stay, but anyway,
you come,
in lucent technology,
appear on the screen,
I think hold on, this must be a dream,
your not exactly what you might seem,
I know it's my voice, so yeah it's my choice,
& in its sound I do rejoice,
but I missed,
I missed,
as I kissed that passing tear,
but I've lived to fight another year,
as it travels here no more,
no, no more,
instead she's the one,
knocking,
waiting at your door
your door, your door,
hey knock, knock, knock,
tick tock tick tock I hear the clock,
ohhhhhh...oh, oh,
hey boy is anyone with you
tonight?
Cherie Nolan© 2016
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 3:24 PM UTC
mine own psalm musings
*living between two broad, sea-emptying rivers,
a Majesty’s sentries to mark the differentiation~
division tween divine and a moderate human’s
moderating steps, as his stride shortens as the y/tears
lengthen, and it is accepted as an inevitable musky must,
no matter how the sweet spring day refreshes, the newly
planted trumpeting shards of bright yellows daffodils
pinch his yellowing eyes, few notice the tiny tears of
discrepancies of an annualized emboldening, a grand
heavenly rebirth and a slow man’s body self~editing,
shedding of a life’s~ending~of~story psalm musings*
*the man looks for the terrible swift sword, but its
failure to grace us with an appearance, is but a
modest disappointment, for a deferred delay is but
a causation to eke out a few mordant, pungent, caustic
reminders of all that is yet to be, to be accomplished,
though the smirking lips of the necessity of yet, one
more unloved poem extant, tilting the Earth’s axis
benevolently toward the open palms of his beneficiaries who*,
you,
*are among them numbered, is but, a green shoot in a city’s
hopeful earth planted, by summer, will shed seeds to come
thy way, as an evocation, a good consternation, a joyous
provocation, an asking kingly~gentle, a royal polite inquiry,
would you care to add a a verse to this eternal verse?
before time shreds it too into a yellowed crumpling,
and to the earth it is returned, for the mine of this
psalms is only generic, genetic, and what is mine is well,*
and truly yours too.
nml
<>
March 31, 2024
NYC
9:16am
Sunday Mourning Service
Mar 31, 2024
Mar 31, 2024 at 9:25 AM UTC
Sell my fortune for this,
hedge my bets and trim the hedgerows,
turn the corner of my hearthstone
find myself neat and low.
Nice and steady, but ready.
For something broader,
something deeper and more meaningful
meaning I have to try harder
and not just idle out and auction off all of my clothes
I don't feel like washing at all.
I get that feeling often.
My attempts at causation may have caused concern,
but I've found you cannot have something to prove
without having something to learn,
that's why every day I die and come back to life.
breath new life, trifle with new strife.
keep kicking until I get kicked out myself.
isn't that what this life is all about?
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 7:28 PM UTC
today,
walked the river arcade,
by the river~side.
same,
where, & when,
a decade earlier
and a laugh ago,
we performed
a daily differential calculus
of the distance to that line,
a watermark,
where my accidental drowning
would be insurance covered
don’t recall, if back then,
poetry writin’ was a good
a daily companion, or-even
a mere passing acquaintance
but went to
all-in-all-alone-freedom,
found riches,
yet still pressed in rags
of remorse, mourning surely,
until & still a
woman, or
three, rated me a
good looking edible,
even
if only didn't always dress
in black, head to toes, like an
extra cool new yorker, or an
attendee at my own fun~ereal
since those days,
gallons millions, zillions
of brackish seawater has flowed
out to sea as far as
England, Philippines, New Zealand,
whichever be connected to the
rain water of Adirondack mountains
flowing past East 57th Street,
my salty tears replenished,
but time changed the causation,
from oy to joy in simp terms
that rhymes…with me and yours
water woman water woman water
makes the heart capable of weeping
tears of joy,
oh! happy drowning
how do
you cross from woman to water,
that, now I walk on a
water bridge of loving
hard, steel & liquidity of
concrete, smooth roughness
became the path to loving living
Nov 21, 2024
Nov 21, 2024 at 7:13 AM UTC