"cogitation" poems
In sable darkness and deafening sounds of her bedroom silence,
she found herself aching
in deep cogitation.
The full moons brightness had peered in
through her window pane,
but with its light
encompassed her with defeat
and decay.
Reality had settled in;
as she felt her body slowly submerge,
She knew
she was no longer her own saving grace.
She awoke in a place of death and morbidity,
But awoke in a state of contentment and comfortability.
Her agony remained; as the remembrance of today,
the ideas of what will come tomorrow,
and the hope of assurance to what she forebodes her future to be,
with the life she leads.
At last
the words had finally escaped.
“Bittersweet serenity.”
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 3:45 PM UTC
The desire to become
a virtuoso and prove
that I am indeed worthy
of traveling in the pursuit
of my passions
or in the pursuit
of you--
commendable cogitation
or
fool's errand?
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 3:07 PM UTC
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition
Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
it's too late to fret
about decisions made
and ties cut, past tense.
it's hard to see it
without the glaring minutiae
of my demise.
I'm scanning the walls
for a change of subject-
Polaroids and butterfly carcasses,
city skyline sketches
and old cigarette advertisements
in gilt gold frames;
satisfy yourself.
my mind is saturated
with degenerate cogitation-
a stew of pantheons
and painstaking nihilism.
my bones are brittle
and begging to break
and my eyes are growing heavy,
with the weight of it all.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 9:11 AM UTC
As I contemplated the project of writing a persuasive essay I discovered that I would have to have a topic upon which to practice my persuasive techniques . After much cogitation and enumeration of my possibilities , pursued with such zeal that it soon resembled pedantic ostentation , I concluded that the most positive prospect I could pursue in this endeavor would be an attempt to prove irrefutably that I deserve a grade of A in this class ; if not for the undeniable excellence of my effort , then at least for the unadulterated audacity of my pretentious assertion .
In order to perform this feat first I must overwhelm your developing consternation , the frozen mastodon of your auspicious judition . To accomplish this I will cite my impeccable attendance ; which although not perfect was indeed a valiant effort in the face of public opinion whose abstinence approached epidemic proportions . I will expound on the effectual and pervasive inspirations of my in class commentary , which sparked many a heated argument or thoughtful conjecture ; and comment on the polished precision of my in class narration . I will reiterate the diversity and intrigue of my subject matter and the competence of my delivery .
Next , with all the dynamic aggression of a wind-up tyrannosaur , I will recapitulate and exemplify my arguments ; until the ramifications of my inductive collusions exceed the boundaries of your psychic phenomenon and you are forced to acquiesce into impunity .
Yes I will indeed proceed to exceed the parameters of your mind , until mesmerized by the multitudes of analogous content you find yourself , disguised as captain corpuscle , floating euphorically down stream in a think box mind gram dingy towards a sea of Colorado cool aid . Then as if all that were not enough to thoroughly torque your ringer , adamant and tenacious I will portray realms of intellectual austerity so intriguing you will be raised to new heights of enigmatism , and then I will leave you , enraptured with your own anonymity , at the edge of the new world freeway .
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 8:03 PM UTC
Suicide is not an option
Everything has to be done with caution
Be it wrong accusation or depression
Taking your life will reduce our population
Believe me, all you need is affection
Speak to someone who'll relieve you of your oppression
Who'll give you nothing but compassion
You may need trust and care in addition
When facing life challenges and tribulation
Take not suicide for a compensation
Try to have a little comprehension
Of the afterlife using your discretion
And also have a little conversation
Involving you and your intuition
Considering suicide may be as a result of impression
Or thought in abstraction
Or even to punish a relation
No matter the condition
It doesn't worth your life as a rendition
If you do plan of taking this action
I beg you take this into consideration
And do a bit of cogitation
That suicide is not an option
Though, it's taking it toll on the nation
Leading many to quick expiration
My fella, suicide is not an option
Try to do some reconciliation
And make sure to somebody you mention
To get your mind in a good position
Or perhaps it might change your situation
And set you in a new direction
Again I say suicide is not an option
Take this into admonition
That your afterlife may as well be in inversion
That live each day with vision
Devote smile to your face a portion
Do activities in admiration and jubilation
And in you life begins a resurrection
Thereby killing the ulterior notion
And also averting a possible perdition
Because suicide is never an option.
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 5:07 AM UTC
On a school trip to a gallery,
Teachers and curators will always tell you
Look upon, examine, appreciate the art!
But they’ll never instruct you
On how to be certain
That your appreciation is acceptable and right.
Conundrum of the contemplative,
Judgement of the partisans,
Cogitation of any aware,
I’ll ponder until my encephalon
Subsides under impactful pressure
Until the logical or the just is no longer right.
Through incandesce of the morning,
In the cloak of the ever-mantling night,
Here I revel in the concept of
Eternal glee through appreciation
Of nostalgic kitsch, and graffiti—
And hyperrealism as well as photoshop
Because love isn’t just omnipotent,
It’s incomprehensible.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition
Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
Creative expressions, examine artistic talents.
Plan it out, count ounces, keep countering the balance.
Distant planets i feel more at place with,
disgraced by the disgusting face human-race-lift.
I'm currently placed here, a pessimistic cynic thinkin
sink or swim, who cares? i'm already ****** dippin in it.
Deep thoughts dropping, with brainstorm droughts often,
countermanding clever cogitation conjured in common;
I'm om nom nom-ing, busting every ****** ******
endowed well where it counts never gave a ***** a problem.
Now drop that on an album, lay down a simple beat.
Sample the same **** over and over on repeat.
Call it a hype track, make some mixes, overlap.
Over a short duration you can claim to be savior of rap.
It's just that easy. Innovative minds depleting,
stillborn America with its heart still beating.
Patiently waiting..
I'm about to go crazy..
Basically, I better blow up or this hate is gonna take me.
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
Night is just night,
without it being told that
it should be dark
and sunless.
It is what it is,
by its own definition.
It does not need stars to shine
In order to make darkness meaningful.
Still, the stars shine.
They do what they do
Without self-acknowledgement,
They simply do.
Be.
Like night and stars
And meaningfulness
And Self-acknowledgement.
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 4:39 AM UTC
Sin glows
With sparkling richness
Of all luminaries
of blanketing galaxy
Sin is worshiped and enshrined
Righteousness is
but blase fallacy
With all over-flowing
Affluence
of new pentecostal churches
and their greedy pastors
And easy-come riches
of Chiadzwa diamond fields
with her flippant Gwejas and Gwejerinas
Life is but black
like Soddom's ****
I hear the knell of dawning doom
As Angels of doom boom...
I swear by ****** Mary's blessed ****
I saw a Stephen preaching down Rekai Tangwena Ave
And was run down by a speeding motor car
"O poor chap, was a good fellow," muttered God
I saw drunken Thomas roaming the streets
Of cogitation convincing himself
it was true news
That brother Jesus, pot-bellied in Armani suit
Was back riding a top of the range Lamborghini
And God shrugged his shoulders,kept quiet
Afraid it may be fatally true
I saw God wet his pants
When listening to Elliot The Idiot's "Songs of Sobs"
That applaud Simon and Peter fishing
From people's pockets
Songs that revere and adorn the vigilant
Pillar of Salt
Scorn and mock
the meekness and softness of heart
At Golgotha...
Sin is vermin spreading
In this our home,the infierno grande
-dougwa-
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 8:10 AM UTC
Following the dusky orange of the sky,
I would wade through shallow pools flooding the trails.
Just after sunset when the air radiated with
constant chirping that would beam and penetrate the silence,
I would setup altar at the dock near the hills.
The absence of humans would bring about the spirits.
Nature sounds would amplify and visual acuity would hone.
Some sort of love and peace would fall before my feet.
The mountains would be like towering ancient gods and ancestors.
The trees like earthen tentacles slithering upward yearning for light!
The stars would gleam like alien eyes staring and observing.
Sounds of the unknown would shriek from one corner of the worlds to the others. What it was that could be defined I knew not what went on there. However, I cannot help but feel a lineation of ancestral wisdom, of which can be absorbed. I also have come to the feeling that this mystical experience is condemned and kept out of reach of the layperson and common-man. Human kind would transmogrify its being from the inside out, incarnating into
the Gods and Deities. I have clearly gone too far from
the common thread of thought. For those stumbling
across my message of cogitation, I urge you
to disregard any interpretation of this piece.
Go on about your normalcy.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
With Trick or Treat a-loomin'
and the harvest moon a-gloom'n
and the ghosts and goblins loose upon the streets
You can bet your bottom dollar
that you'll hear a screech and holler
when you open up your door to give ‘em treats.
But beware of werewolves howlin'
and the zombies who are prowlin'
In the shadows in the corners of your mind.
For the scary cogitation
in your own imagination
is the one that you have mentally designed.
So...remember you'r not seeing
any supernat'ral being...
they're just costumes and some make up on the kids.
But be sure and take no chances
e're they start their spooky dances
Give them candy or the ghouls might flip their lids!
Happy Halloween my neighbors
on this night of ghostly labors....
And good luck. You can't escape it if you could.
They'll arrive in cars and wagons...
dressed as witches, bats and dragons.
And they won't all be from your own neighborhood.
BOO!
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 8:27 AM UTC
profane is the word you seek
when it comes to
looking up
this vicious word
called
love...
for how can one live
in deeper lies
than the imaginary
of permanent belonging?
for what is eternity
but a mortal's illusion,
and what is love,
but the sum of all of mankind's fears
and insecurities?
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 3:26 AM UTC
i
sacchariferous exhale's, I shalt insufflate into her bronchi
An Ode of enchantment, a beacon of escarpment, Filipino oblige;
We shalt junket all the way to France, the way politician's do
Concord, oh amour', at the end of the day Cogitation's, sky blue.
ii
The artist's shalt adumbrate ourn outter appearance's, as ghost's
They shalt brush us onto an primeval canvas, Enlargement ****
Phosphorescent simper she giveth, as I grace her foreign perfume
Thither the acropolis, to mine land of Greece, Corinth, in all tune.
iii
The people their do greeteth her, they layeth out the red carpet
White wall's of these spítia, nacre full of plenty, open market's;
The children here art collaborated in epoch, decorative style's,
As mine queen shalt seeith, they weareth golden leaves, wild......
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane dedication/ pag-ibig magpakailanman.....
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
i.
Daily I hath cogitation's
Of mine lass with me;
In union matrimony.
ii.
Her torchon lace
Set in place;
Comely to mine suiting.
iii.
To compass us
Divinity;
Comforting serenity.
iv.
No need for memory
She shalt be;
Right next to me.
v.
Concord of
The Philippine's;
And Greece, deeply saccharine.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 9:40 AM UTC
As I contemplated the project of writing a persuasive essay I discovered that I would have to have a topic upon which to practice my persuasive techniques . After much cogitation and enumeration of my possibilities , pursued with such zeal that it soon resembled pedantic ostentation , I concluded that the most positive prospect I could pursue in this endeavor would be an attempt to prove irrefutably that I deserve a grade of A in this class ; if not for the undeniable excellence of my effort , then at least for the unadulterated audacity of my pretentious assertion .
In order to perform this feat first I must overwhelm your developing consternation , the frozen mastodon of your auspicious judition . To accomplish this I will cite my impeccable attendance ; which although not perfect was indeed a valiant effort in the face of public opinion whose abstinence approached epidemic proportions . I will expound on the effectual and pervasive inspirations of my in class commentary , which sparked many a heated argument or thoughtful conjecture ; and comment on the polished precision of my in class narration . I will reiterate the diversity and intrigue of my subject matter and the competence of my delivery .
Next , with all the dynamic aggression of a wind-up tyrannosaur , I will recapitulate and exemplify my arguments ; until the ramifications of my inductive collusions exceed the boundaries of your psychic phenomenon and you are forced to acquiesce into impunity .
Yes I will indeed proceed to exceed the parameters of your mind , until mesmerized by the multitudes of analogous content you find yourself , disguised as captain corpuscle , floating euphorically down stream in a think box mind gram dingy towards a sea of Colorado cool aid . Then as if all that were not enough to thoroughly torque your ringer , adamant and tenacious I will portray realms of intellectual austerity so intriguing you will be raised to new heights of enigmatism , and then I will leave you , enraptured with your own anonymity , at the edge, of the new world freeway .
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 12:36 PM UTC
The fragments of the sumptuous
thirty-plus
have been dispersed about me
These shards, not merely placed
here accidentally, rather having found
their way through
the hands of one who would have
them for a night
then repudiate them.
That’s how it would seem
to the hordes of eyes
who’s business goes unattended
for that sole reason.
Now it is my duty to live
with a title others who
bear the plague of
an unburdened
dangling protuberance
as a prerogative of the captivatingly covetable.
Through those very eyes
they exert themselves to live
vicariously through
your eyes.
How foolish are the feeble minded.
to so easily set out
on a self cataclysmic odyssey.
When viewed from the eyes of
the sumptuous thirty-plus
the perspective have been
effectively skewed.
The acclaim you were once
engrossed in has altered.
Transmutation has taken effect.
Soon the communal cogitation of the multitudes
will subsume
the feeble minded
Thus creating only one
possibly point of terminus:
solitary confinement.
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 10:03 AM UTC
My cogitation suffers inside
Pleasured by neglected infections.
I will damage your insides
Leave you naked and misdirected
Naturally Im taught to take what's mine
Leave emotions uncollected.
Push aside honest lies, unfaithful dreams,
You die inside every time you fail to speak.
Im the darkness you love
The disaster you carelessly seek
The trouble you need,
The obsession that initiates your thoughts to bleed
Lets leave our fantasies to be teased
Beg for the sin of love on our knees.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 8:40 AM UTC
I sink too deeply
into the reflections of my being
and in this pithy mirror I see
all that has become me.
tracing the fibers in reverse
every memory dispersed
churning out the eldest curse
loosely piled unspoken words
thoughts become, ubiquitously
a visual soliloquy
entwined with all the subtle dreams
that shape present realities
entrancing eyes toward morphing scenes
the air has now become a sea
of every possibility
that ever could have been
and I swim so gracefully
in the ocean of could-be's
holding onto this pristine
moment ever so closely
close enough that
I can see
clearly
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 1:31 PM UTC
My smile is a collapsed lung of fake-ness
that I breath harder every lingering moment
of my existence. Mutilating my cogitation
seeing the world in blurs of repetition.
I'm awoken by the pain of visualizations that
will not heed my alone time. But follow me
to that place that should be of silence. Instead
I scream in disillusion, as darkness was my escape.
There words are like raindrops of acid, and my
forest of thoughts wither upon the constant
onslaught of their needing to belittle me in the
presence of others. My branches fall frail to my side.
Others in shame, not a word spoken. No breeze to
hinder the hurricane of illusions that repeatedly
impact on my subconscious place. I'm silent like
a tomb of sorrows, I bury myself inward and deep.
I made my first mistake today, as they like a well
oiled clock, blood hound hunters of my scent find me.
In a moment I heed to my anger and clench my fist,
and then I'm blooded on the floor by there disbelief.
What is life? a moment of breathes that heed in our
existence. Is that what this is called? I collect tears in
threads of and bind them. This is my tears of pain
that I now hang from, pity me now as I only hear silence.
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 5:46 AM UTC
One could be a moth
Or midday butterfly,
A deceitful demon
Or a cherub on Eden's sky.
An enclosed cellar
Or an open book,
Bittersweet venom
Or a milk and honey scoop.
One shall have a choice
of to be or not be,
Facing one's own path.
Call it destiny.
There is a daily choice
Opened to be selected
Between what's right or wrong
To stand straight, or to be deflected.
But then again life's more than
A black and white selection,
where 'pro's and 'no's run
to create one's subjective reflection.
So we are the sums of our choices
no matter if they're right or wrong,
and doomed to be constantly living
with both beauty and chaos along.
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 4:18 AM UTC
Addiction comes again,
Cogitation fuels the yearner,
A soaked rag petting skin
As a bellow stokes ember.
Endorphins, tastes tripping on the tongue
Just a little,
Wet lips cracking with electric spume
For a piffling sip of ambrosia.
Want needs emptiness
When it is full of gluttony.
A ***** drop falls
rippling in the blood of energy.
Racing, flipping, falling through pages to the darker side of your emotions and it eats away at the better part of yourself until you're all but sand.
Sand left desiccated and burning
for a cold withdrawal of the tide.
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 11:25 AM UTC
They smile watching the little people
in sad parade of the rush hours calling
whilst they peer down in satisfaction
from towers dark and looming, made from grief
Those that reside aloft, live by that code
that one who rules, rules without law
they love to see you work your fingers to the bone
and when it all gets too much, see you, let out a groan
They will not hesitate to use the whip
trying to get what is left of your hollow lives
******* breath from you and bleeding you dry
foul and evil in there cogitation attitude
These are the wicked that sell and buy
land mines to maim, mothers to cry
these are the creatures that worship greed
they attain for want and not for need.
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka Neonsolaris
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 5:02 AM UTC