"commonalities" poems
Ilion gray
poet extraordinary
is away
learning the codes hidden in raindrops
no reason for surprise;
for the mountains of Brooklyn, the Manhattan caverns of Sunhenge^, corridors of narrow focus for trapping the declining sun rays,
neither high enough, narrow blinding,
to keep a good man from doing good things that life provides as opportunities
to do the right thing
he muses that it took five years for the other poets to understand our
poem-dreams;
avant-garde he says,
but I laugh,
never felt more misunderstood
and reply take care, be
en garde!
no matter for he is learning a new language,
the codes hidden in raindrops in a land of wheat
once called Indian Territory and eager
await his return so we may
walk along the Brooklyn shoreline,
beginning from under the Brooklyn Bridge
where Washington’s men escaped a British trap
and he can decode for me the whispery thunderous noises of
NY
showers that come up so sudden, so roughened, but right now,
the seductive sun blinks in Manhattan windowed towers reflecting back on to our East River as golden blinks of nature
We will walk lost in the absorption of our
different commonalities, holding the hands of
his young son, and my Wendy,
both of them equal in possession of round saucer eyes
that give us poems
He calls me me friend,
I call him brother, teacher, master, better than the best,
well recalling a late night message that bred
a five year conversation ongoing
not everything need be coded
what you read here
it is not coded,
for the raindrops come clear and clean
and the poems land on our tongues
bounce on the foreheads and eyes of the babes, all stored and saved for the future blessings spoken in a single tongue
7/18/18
^https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manhattanhenge
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 10:41 PM UTC
The wood is stacked for winter.
One way out of the mind's limitations
is through other minds' contemplations.
The books are stacked for winter.
Yet even that cannot satisfy.
Failing to hold still for meditation
my teacher smiles, makes this observation:
The purpose of sitting's not to be satisfied
or satiated. Remain hungry,
cold, uncomfortable and counting enemies.
These, and fear, are our commonalities,
and the discipline of not hitting whenever angry.
You'll appreciate dying
quietly at home. Whichever season has been randomly assigned will be
beautiful as ever
as a molecule of water is to all matter.
"In my life there were always too many things."
If there is no time, only change
the linear becomes circular.
Do not say north or south. You're
within the winter range
of chickadees, hawks, owls and herons.
River grapes, rose hips, the cedar waxwings'
repast. Their talk is my reminding
change outlasts endurance.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 11:52 AM UTC
Near, near are my lucid dreams.
Sultry sleep, augmenting realty
Today, nothing will be as it seems.
Flashes of translucent, magnified beams,
Lighting lingers in treacherous tonality
Near, near are my lucid dreams.
The water flows in upside-down streams,
Rivers rage in confused commonalities
Today, nothing will be as it seems.
The mechanic roar of howling screams,
Shrapnel shrieking in utter infinities.
Near, near are my lucid dreams.
Pulleys construct convoluted schemes
While pollution parades in notorious normality
Today, nothing will be as it seems.
Awake. I go forth, my mind again seamed.
Awake. I go back, into a world of formality.
Near, near are my lucid dreams
Today, nothing will be as it seems.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
moment to moment
we are the sum total of
our chemicals
we think of ourselves
we think of others
as an average of our
time and spacial synergy
an anatomical amalgam
a biological brine
frankensteins with
personalities, commonalities and
unique agendas
sprinkled with neuroses that
range from microscopic to
catastrophic, whether
chemical reaction or
hyperbolic extraction
you can choose to
canonize or demonize
as long as you can
recognize
the flesh and the blood
versus the fantasized
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 1:46 AM UTC
I'm still caught up
In the faucets
Ive been brought up
My losses thought up
In loss-less
Fossils
soldering
The slaughter
Atop
An my inner adulterer
In the fodder
Of a ****
I am the will
Of my weakest link
Give me a shrink
To **** away at the sheets
Of freedom
Drink away the stink
Of freedom
You cant free them
Cant believe them
Cant be them
Just retrieve them
From this life
Deceive them
To the knife
Bleed them
From the heights
Of ego
Let em flow
To never
In the blight
Of severed stems
With sedatives
And seduction
Isolate the malfunctions
Of my internal combustion's
Busting in
Annihilation
Of the problem
Manifestation
Of the solemn
In columns of regret
Inscribed across my chest
Blessed with contempt
For the clause
Unmindful of the laws
And stalled
I will stand
Where you fall
And call
To myself
From the stealth
Of broken homes
And hungry dogs
I am the fog
Of arson
The discontent
Of the larceny
Of the peasants
I'm blessed in the curses
Of burnt
Churches
But in worse ways
Im versed
In aversive
Silence
Dispersed
In cursive slices
I realise this
Is
The decisive
Moment
In which i wake
For the sake
Of procreation
Infection
Of a system
Convection
Of a prison
Citizen
Of a religion
Under taxation
To live in it
I'm illiterate to the
Commonalities
I cant depict
the squiggled lines
Its a tragic comedy
Giggling to the rhyme
I think it is
Perfection
At its peak
Pulp for the weak
Its neat!
I cant tell
If i am half awake
Or half asleep
But text is cheap
So i bleed
On screens
But dont mean
A thing
In dreamless
States
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 4:42 PM UTC
A failure to observe
So quickly to judge...
A failure to integrate
The ways of true love...
A failure to embrace
A true nature inside...
These are the commonalities
Of the unspoken white lie...
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 8:18 AM UTC
*Oh I do distinguish,
What is the ALL;*
***We inwardly receive,
Knowing truly;
Beyond the painful,
stories we numerate;
Which are often,
Yes painful horrific;
Yet when the love,
Beauty we all know;
Crystallizes,
clearly within;
We are empowered,
All great gifts whereby then,
Painful needs are mete with instant;
Response;
Not one doubt,
Second thought;
We are all,
Highly and acutely aware,
most sensitive too;
As the evolved beings we are;
We are the Holy Grail;
Moving the mountains;
Of the impossibilities,
Only we have already created therefor;
We are the vessels dissolving,
Mountains back into the sea;
Of infinite possibilities;
Whereby this infinite,
Sea of love though not seen;
In blinding light,
Of our more limited,
Consciousness;
Deep gifts;
Of our commonalities,
Make the painful numerations;
All the more beautiful;
Upon Our;
God Given commonality!!!!
Therefore the fearful snake,
Firstly hissing;
Transmutable in the laughing;
Joy;
Highly developed;
Golden Wisdom;
Sans;
Any doubt,
Lest we forget;
Hard worked for,
Well earned lessons;
Thank you!!!
Eve, Lilith!!!
ALL!!!***
We are ready;
***Already free;
Freeing;
The almighty;
Tantric,
Holy breeze!!!
Always,
More willing;
Yearning,
What is good;
More,
LOVE!!!
Giving!!!
Receivable!!!***
I call,
***Welcome!!!!
Thee Eighth of Days;***
Whereby fore;
Food!!!!
For,
Our bodies and souls;
***NEED!!!
LOVE!!!
DESERVE!!!
WANT!!!!***
***INHERENTLY!!!
KNOWN!!!***
*All,
Available;*
***HERE!!!
NOW!!!***
***ALREADY!!!
PREPARED!!!***
In an instant;
***BEFALLING!!!
ALL!!!
OF ALL!!!
FOR ALL!!!***
\ /
***HEARTS
LOVE***
/ \
***KNOW
NOT
\ /
B
O
N
D
A
G
E***
!
!
!
.
.
.
\/
.
.
.
*S
a
S
a*
***L
O
V
E***
!
!
!
Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 10:52 PM UTC
-
i took no pleasantries in that adjustment
from the top shelf of Pastry Perfection
to the wicker-wire dust bunnies at the
"sole" level of humanity
after i mistakenly thought —you— took
some element of freeverse i had posted a
couple of years ago at one of the more-read
poetry sites on the internet-
then i realized something, Poet..
that for all those sleepless hours you
spent cramming for the SAT—
i posited on how many welding rods
could be burned down during a two
hour period of trade school
and with respect to those thousands of
words diligently packed into your
undergrad dissertation—
(*including that humorous description of a
knitted strap you used to keep the pencil
from rolling off the table*)
i wrote a brief essay of commonalities
on how much Gerald R. Ford and
Elwyn Brooks White
actually disliked
football,
and to those thoughtfully crafted lectures
in front of scores of distinguished
scholars and senior staff—
i was projecting shadow puppets onto a
screen during a slideshow while the
teacher excused herself to the restroom.
basically this;
as to the volumes of books
you have published
over the decades—
i have a few thousand words of
amateur poetry posted online
inside of a few years.
That Said,
for those carefully-placed words
(of mine)
you incorporated into your
latest masterpiece,
realizing poets will not always
happen upon the same instant
at any given intersection,
i recognized that most familiar sensation
we Both get when having correctly
delivered the punchline to the funniest
joke of the evening.
we —in fact— have only the readings
of fellow writers to blame for each
other's blending of creative impulses,
that during these miraculous,
yet humble birthings of verse—
i have it now on good authority,
that we all could possibly exist
within this capacity
as mere equals...
"The Lanyard of Amateur Poetry"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved
.
Oct 7, 2020
Oct 7, 2020 at 6:53 AM UTC
.
Crystal sparkles—
From within, with ores,
Mineral, quartz, precious
Commonalities from earths
Core. Wind has attempted
To make shy marks— falling
Sorrowfully short and water
Has edged and smoothed
By centuries too of trying.
This then was their show,
A kind of immortal love,
Everlasting by its trials,
As even the sun knows,
For a ley line, etched so fey,
Runs each wild orbs circumference,
Separates moss from clean stone,
Tracing the path of a star.
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 5:35 PM UTC
We're probably very different,
You and I
But maybe I don't want to feel disconnected
When our viewpoints don't match
When I become separated from you
There's more to life, you see
Than focusing on our differences,
What separates us
When we disagree, we disconnect
From each other
I can feel it
You can feel it too
Don't tell me you can't
I've heard those words
Enough to know they aren't true
So please, when I say
Let's not discuss politics,
It means
I only want to remain close with you
I don't want to be pushed away
So now, rather than re-hashing old news
Like politics, or rather,
What separates us,
Let's explore what unites us,
What brings us closer to each other
Within the beauty of where
Our commonalities lie
Because as I said,
I just want to feel close to you
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
We all saw you on TV. See
we all felt you, on TV.
We effectually react/ or change the channel.
Seeing with, you and I, we seeing
we share science, we know bits
of many common childhood mystery
religion moralizing stories, animating
representative good and evil having beings,
eaters of roots and seeds;
eaters of blood, raw flesh;
eaters of the processed meat, made
from what clams eat, while making pearls
worth the merchant's speculation, see,
look, if this pearl were thine to own, yours
alone. If this pearl were thine, to form
using layering lightflex laminate fluid to form,
smooth curve force to mollify vitious spikes
as one creature soothes the pain caused,
when a certain signal calls for pearling,
biometric symbiotic gnosisnot using
a natural pattern found in viscous,
snottish fluids flowing just above
the bottom line reality, priced per
one man estimated ethos, may
haps, taken and called granted, per
happenstance, standing, there take it,
weigh the worth, at least, it cost you
this much attention, and left
an edge to look over…
take this thought,
taste test, notice salt, hmmm.
-- such taste, sweet
-- such taste sharp, and bitter…
Notice sticky hook to any attention paid
-- remember, re
member reading for all the roles…
This Is Your Life,
unforgiveable forethought odd after effect.
-- taste and see, we all are good, our lies are evil.
Novels in genres, are stories in familiar
feeling places. The realmmmm re-creational
master of monstors degrees, stages, steps,
tic to last held thought, ties to all held thoughts,
- who buys horror and shame hero stories?
- who buys cops are Platonic Guardians stories?
- who buys we, that people, are stories?
Vicarious as the pope,
we feel the ef
in efforting to display the glory of knowing.
- ceasing to effect the art's official form of love,
- sincere affection, effectively applied plasterwise.
Nothing new, sort of classless, drivel, driving assumptives
sorted on commonalities, professional confession,
yes, we guessed you exist, so we said
I do this for money, or
no,
I do this to make pearls, when something in me
is grinding at my gut, make, make, make me,
a pearl none shall ever see,
make me, think.
On earth, as in my own peace of mind, let it be.
Awen. Amen, and all the other translations of make it so.
Dec 15, 2022
Dec 15, 2022 at 2:50 PM UTC
Who are you? Who are you?
i think i know you i think i’ve met you
That i’ve seen you before and known you inside out
and been with you touched your dreams, felt your scars
spent some meaningful times shown you mine too, under the stars
shared some laughs and shared some sorrows we’ve discussed commonalities and discords
i know you
you know me
and yet it seems
we’ve never met
and odd as it may seem
i don’t recognize you
it makes me want to
pick your brain
pych you out
sift through your secrets
need to figure you out to know
where we’ve met before
***i want to dissect your heart
and find my place in it
i know i’ve been there before***
-Vijayalakshmi Harish
01.10.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 11:34 AM UTC
Hound-dog swallowing poly-coated pills, filling up, bloated, falling off stage, and into a more permanent and lasting Graceland, to be surrounded by another’s verse.
I only enjoy what comes from my own head, a modern Samuel Johnson, no matter what happenstance brought about to be said, a cage free Bronson. Hearing false verse through a syllable count, hoisted onto adverbs easy to mount. Congratulate a lesser mind, reaching commonalities most could find. Ease in creation, opens floodgate doors, distributing specs of grace through misworded spores. Life, love, and the pursuit of vanity, leaves simplified lumps of prosperous thought riddled with anonymity. The invention of despair overwhelms those ungifted, and leaves them erecting stale forgeries they grifted.
In the wee small hours of escaping light, a crooner steadies his hands as he falsifies his originality, reading off the music from another’s sheet.
A change in topic is something to hold as worthy, though in a modern context of prosaic prose, such good fortune can be exceptionally elusive. Broken hearted symptoms shared through a hash-tag, rerouted and worded, to fit an illiterate youth’s lesser diction, reposted to approach validity, only to be called forth as an original soul, one to revere, and hold as an entitled fraction of logic.
The piano man knocks out a tune, hit in stride with vocal conduct, inspired and laid in pen by a lesser man propelled by better wording, given up for another’s career.
Market’s over-saturated with teenage sonnets, weeping over cut wrists, ended (Victorian inspired) trysts, refreshed and brought back around until sentimentality vomits. Themes used to run rampant with fresh ingenuity, made extinct, occurred in a blink; now every poem has some congruency.
The grapevine got entangled, getting involved with a troublemaker, providing the soundtrack, using another’s words.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
The hunter runs after his prey, and then
It leaps forth into the stary night, which
Swallows it up to be part of it when
The hunter finds their chase to be unhitched
Around the entire globe, we find
That we all have some commonalities
We all have something in the human mind
That reflects our common realities
We chased our prey, only to find that it
Had taken off for the celestial
With our knack for storytelling and wit
We had made star pictures and festivals
It oddly speaks to our human nature
That our stories can become much greater
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 10:27 PM UTC
And this,
Is of all and anything...
Little girls wear too much makeup
Pre-teens, children
Everyone shaves or waxes their genitals
**** and **** "jobs"
Are commonalities
The fridge repair man came today
Cash, or blow job?
I'm not sure,
***** stamped,
on makeup
My five year old worries about her hair,
Style and colour
She asks questions
I can't answer
My therapist
Charges too much,
Feeling too much
Six figure income,
And paying only less,
Than five dollars a day,
In child support
Husbands, locking up wives
And getting by,
Mothers, stripping
To make ends meet
No judgement here
Not that I could,
Nor, that I ever would
Thinking about,
In trash cans
Where real souls dwell
Infections of the uninsured,
All's well
I swear.....
This is
Of ALL and EVERYTHING.
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 9:01 PM UTC
make yourself glowingly present
and bow down to
higher consciousness
feel the bewildering
burning
yearning
churning sensation of
your third eye
struggling for
freedom of sight
with all of its might
it should be easier
it will soon come
naturally
if you just
follow my lead
greed is futile
let all your tangibles free
feel the sweet relief of the weight
off your shoulders
you owe yourself
that sigh of completion
the freedom of
hedonism within reason
commence the ********** of the
purest sensation of truth
you have it in you
just wake up
the apple of your eye
is ripe and ****
your vibrant brain is
a ravishing work of art
frolicking down
mysterious spiral staircases
through moments of
intensely intellectual
visionary illumination
and bioluminescence
the essence of joy
intertwined with pain
juxtaposed with
sublimity in vain
wander yonder
into the somber beyond
no magic wand
nor wizard tongue
transfigure and transcend
ascend into
the winding bend of forever
shudder with delight as
shimmering reality breaks through
with vivacious sound
color and light
conscious convergences
delicate reserves of infinite truth
the youth is not wasted
by the young
breathe deeper
your life has only begun
arrival and departure
candle lit picnics in
graveyards of forgotten dreams
the cobwebs are ephemeral
and easily defeated
repeated incomplete ideas
eventually materialize into
concrete visions
the prison gates
were never secure
the allure to venture abroad
was never ruled out
tumble forth and
discover
uncover
recover
nourishment in its purest form
reach as high as your vision spans
wanderlust for the
bright side of the moon
the stark luster of
the multifaceted sunset
tender are the
wilting worries of yesterday
the glimmering welcomes
of desire lines
halcyon days precede
wondrous adventures
transcending darkness
lanterns are unneeded
the neurons are aglow
promises of
playful rendezvous with
all species
all personalities
commonalities made apparent immediately
your mind wastes no time
reality proves
the clock is irrelevant regardless
keep your guard down
you'll be delighted to find
that you're already home
you're already found
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
Set me on fire
Insanity is what ran through me
Intensity plunging into me
Breathing is not wheezing but coming easily
Tingling reawakening
Space vacating me
I’m a vortex of for ever waiting
Playing on words, hoping to be heard
Spinning on this earth that is worth…
Nothing? Something? Maybe
Say to me the words that send guilt
Through sensations I have yet to word
Liking is a fighting, loving is despising
Wanting to be curious, how could I not with the words of his
Blister me with sincerity
Sending burning regret through every vain
Every way, in each new light
I fight and twist new perspective
To yell at me, to say to me everything is all right
And believe its true.
That me and you collided for some kind of real
Reeling going wild
My heart beats with the laughter of a child
Happiness is your contagious energy
I take it in and let it live in me
Your sweet scenic imagery
Watercolor paintings reflecting back at me
Beauty is something new and founding
Whirl pool of commonalities
Blasphemies of morals and value
But I cant help how my happiness swells
How you a smile into me
Chilling water not nearly as refreshing
Retesting, rethinking my boundaries
Seeing new towers, higher mountains and walls
Longer tunnels and halls
To walk, climb and crawl
How far the journey to a wanting place
To a unsure space in any case I hope your happy
That my presence is half as enchanting
Because your words they leave me panting
How can I not, with no words forgot?
Blister me with guilt’s hot iron
Set me on fire.
Or should we not?
I forgot the binding power of
A forever real friend ship
Set my ship on fire
And drown all hopes and desires
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 5:32 PM UTC
Crystal sparkles—
From within, with ores,
Mineral, quartz, precious
Commonalities from earths
Core. Wind has attempted
To make shy marks— falling
Sorrowfully short and water
Has edged and smoothed
By centuries too of trying.
This then was their show,
A kind of immortal love,
Everlasting by its trials,
As even the sun knows,
For a ley line, etched so fey,
Runs each wild orbs circumference,
Separates moss from clean stone,
Tracing the path of a star.
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 6:57 PM UTC
Crystal sparkles—
From within, with ores,
Mineral, quartz, precious
Commonalities from earths
Core. Wind has attempted
To make shy marks— falling
Sorrowfully short and water
Has edged and smoothed
By centuries too of trying.
This then was their show,
A kind of immortal love,
Everlasting by its trials,
As even the sun knows,
For a ley line, etched so fey,
Runs each wild orbs circumference,
Separates moss from clean stone,
Tracing the path of a star.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 5:06 PM UTC
Share many commonalities.....
1. Love of a finely tailored suit
2. Ferocious brutality at the
hands of mafiosos.
3. The finest gold, silver and
gaudy jewelry
4. Love of finely created
masterpieces for the head...
i.e. a ****** pelt fedora
5. Control of a worldwide drug
trade and global politics
6. Magical realism as normal life
7. And my favorite.... phrases
like..."I make him an offer, he
don't refuse" and the
Colombian equivalent... "Plata
o plomo"
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 11:27 PM UTC
I wonder if you know me, if it's well enough to see
That you are not the question mark you once had used to be
And it is not because of what you did or said or saw
Not that I'm denying the existence of it all
But I remember thinking - I am sick of what I am
I'm tired of pretending that I cannot understand
A fool is made of everyone, the peoples' flesh and bone
We share such commonalities yet often feel alone
By looking into someone else we try to see ourselves
And break another mirror, turn a body to a cell
Go back to what I said about the part with you and I
And let us clear the spaces we had both once occupied
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 11:23 AM UTC
Oct 2020
Poets, let us examine this friendship thing, again.
Poets, let us examine this friendship thing, again.
This is a poem of humans, regardless of our natural multi- flavored striations, that tend to over-define us, thus separating, instead of celebrating commonalities.
Like most things we enjoy, our five senses are the gateway to pleasure, even the pleasure of friendships. They act in concert, a symphonic interplay that reenforces and heightens so that in combination they create a whole greater than a single sense could provide singly.
This is on my mind this week, as I wrestle to understand the meaningful possibilities, the limits of friendship.
Poets form bonds without hearing each other’s voices.
Poets connect despite geographic distances that makes grasping each others sinewed arms, caressing the softness of hard cheekbones, without ever having been granted the unique, all encompassing satisfaction of embrace, hugging.
Poets sometimes can hear but not see each other’s words.
Poets sometimes can see/read each other’s words, but never hear them voiced aloud in the authors own, true voice.
Poets sometimes cannot smell or taste each other’s words, though it can take a poem to another, higher sensory level of coloration.
And yet, a bond so strong forms that defies the conventional limitations of the physical. Should we share such a bond, them you know it, no need to ask for confirmation.
Words, can be gifted, without teleportation, even when and if the bridge of a shared spoken language is not extant.
This is nothing short of miraculous.
Just like friendship.
All my wrestling to true comprehend this state, for naught, for the miracle of words is like the color of water. Universal, invisible, but so varied, that it too bridges and is shared by every ! human body regardless of any human shape, color, form of the billions conceivable.
But wrestle I do nonetheless, for the pleasure of this (non?)soluble problem that both creates queries & quenches simultaneously, so I break off this thinnest wafer to share with you, offering this notional:
All humans are poems.
All poems are human.
Solve this poem for human.
(And ignore the wet spots of my watery, clear tears staining this poem).
Jan 2, 2025
Jan 2, 2025 at 7:32 AM UTC