"commonness" poems
The nature around us
Provokes to think!
The geometry of nature
Creates coincidences and intersections!
Coincidences of creation- destruction and re-construction!
Intersection reveals the connectivity,
Connectivity between deconstruction and reconstruction!
Geometry portray the commonness and uniqueness,
Commonness and uniqueness between
‘image and number’ and ‘shape and number’!
It leads all relation to number relation!
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 2:30 PM UTC
In Gothic architecture, light is considered
the most beautiful revelation of God;
Beauty is a characteristic of an animal,
an idea, object, person or place that provides
an experience of pleasure, or satisfaction;
Beauty is studied as part of aesthetics, [culture],
social psychology, philosophy & sociology;
An ideal beauty is an entity;
admired; possessing features
widely attributed to beauty in a particular culture;
to perfection:
Ugliness [commonness], [ ] commonly considered to be the opposite
of beauty,
annihilated as an intellectual concept,
no longer exists;
The experience of beauty is often
involved in an interpretation of some
entity [being in balance & harmony];
the experience of nature may lead to feelings
of attraction & emotional well-being;
Because perception is a purely subjective experience,
it was once said that beauty
is in the eye of the beholder;
a sentiment long debunked;
There is evidence that hypothetical perceptions
of beauty involve determining
aspects of things, people & landscapes;
beauty is typically found
in situations likely to enhance the survival
of the perceiving collection
[of chromosomes]
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 6:25 PM UTC
Rose:
"Dandelion,
how dare you grow in my bed!
Only I have the privilege of feeding on this nutrient rich soil,
created for me, me alone!
You have no right to make your home here!
My keeper will pull you out of the ground
and dispose of you like the **** you are."
Dandelion:
"Rose,
I've just as much right to grow as you do!
Why do you insult me?
Am I not a flower just like you?"
"Dandelion,
you're a common garden ****
I'm beautiful, admired by all who set eyes upon me.
My keeper feeds and carefully prunes my body.
She admires my soft velvety petals which are the deepest red.
My stem, so slender, my prickles tempting, dangerous.
I'm beauty and pain in perfect harmony.
You can admire, but do not touch!"
"Rose,
I'm beautiful in my own way,
don't you see?
My yellow petals, the colour of golden sunshine.
I symbolise the sun, moon and stars;
I'm also resilient.
I've no carer to look after me, yet I still manage to flourish,
even in the toughest of places."
"Dandelion,
your time will be short in this place!
There's no room for your commonness here.
I'm a special breed, you're ******
"Rose,
I know my fates sealed,
I accept the situation for what it is;
Beauty's in the eye of the beholder.
What you don't realise,
we'll suffer the same fate!
You'll end your days
standing in a vase filled with water.
My death will be quick;
Yours prolonged!
In the end,
your beauty will be your downfall!"
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 5:13 AM UTC
Rancor,
Swashbuckling with a sawtooth grin and sacrilegious shouts, selcouth with an unsound mind, the commonness of uniqueness, the commonness of opinionated onions cutting their teeth on life and crying, again, and ready to saw off the limbs of the opposition out of revenge!
Rancor, relax, you're not a Twitter matador, I wish you were because I’d love to watch the show.
We cuddle with exotic nylon fibers and squeal about our weight and status and how someone insulted us and how terrible it is to be alive while sipping on easily accessibly high fructose corn syrup! Life has never been this sweet, but I guess we’re getting sick of honey.
I complain about the complaints, I am the anti-complaining complaint club president.
I am a writer, an iPhone thumb tapper.
Hear me
These mental gymnastics will somersault and summerset you right, child,
Don’t listen to Rancor,
That man’ll grab your gaze and stir your attention into a cocktail while winking at you from behind the bar
he’ll leave your brain a little woozy from a life that used to be sweet until you left it out in the sun a few years too long,
I wonder if some of the dead watch us from the corners of our bedroom or the trees along the freeway, waiting for greatness to unfurl.
I’ll bet they do and I’ll bet you’re a glitch, I’ll bet a little piece of another galaxy hit you in the head and made your finger twitch.
How many hot car hours have been spent in a parking lot,
the skin dries, the phone dies,
the spirit once lifted towards the outlines of the mountain peak now seeks memes, transcendent in their own right.
May 12, 2022
May 12, 2022 at 1:54 AM UTC
There is a great river this side of Stygia
Before one comes to the first black cataracts
And trees that lack the intelligence of trees.
In that river, far this side of Stygia,
The mere flowing of the water is a gayety,
Flashing and flashing in the sun. On its banks,
No shadow walks. The river is fateful,
Like the last one. But there is no ferryman.
He could not bend against its propelling force.
It is not to be seen beneath the appearances
That tell of it. The steeple at Farmington
Stands glistening and Haddam shines and sways.
It is the third commonness with light and air,
A curriculum, a vigor, a local abstraction . . .
Call it, one more, a river, an unnamed flowing,
Space-filled, reflecting the seasons, the folk-lore
Of each of the senses; call it, again and again,
The river that flows nowhere, like a sea.
1.8k
I HAVE heard the pigeons of the Seven Woods
Make their faint thunder, and the garden bees
Hum in the lime-tree flowers; and put away
The unavailing outcries and the old bitterness
That empty the heart. I have forgot awhile
Tara uprooted, and new commonness
Upon the throne and crying about the streets
And hanging its paper flowers from post to post,
Because it is alone of all things happy.
I am contented, for I know that Quiet
Wanders laughing and eating her wild heart
Among pigeons and bees, while that Great Archer,
Who but awaits His hour to shoot, still hangs
A cloudy quiver over Pairc-na-lee.
1.7k
I **** people with the knife of fear without hesitation
In their world, its just another day of hallucination
Churning out muck from the milk of the bodies of the dead
Seeing them die with agony in hell's own bed
The pleasure I receive,the relief that I get
From the ****** bodies that I behead
The terror that grips them day and night
I never miss it out of my sight
The web of commonness to which they stick to
I give them a new world of pain to go through
I, the doctor of the dead and devil of hope
I give their demented souls a boat of peace to row
The darkness that lurks around and the silence that prolongs
That is the only thing they see and in their ears that echoes around
I slash them with the sword of anguishness
I help their suffered souls to attain true tranquilness
I relieve them from the trance they live in
From the decayed mind with which they from heaven ship in
I see the agitated bodies lying in my hands
Whom I bury with the shovel of hatred into the blood stained sands
The ethereal hearts,in my hands I take them
I shred them out and give the dogs to feed them
I live to see them get killed
And with a sigh, I pray to the God of Hell and dream of someone someday devouring upon my dead body's filth.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 2:48 PM UTC
Wasp addendum
More than out of and
Quote the finality, well to avoid...
A sting that churched a brassy man
Wasp substantial
Adding the heed, of couth and comparison
Does a reach for time, understand arousal?
Quiet time searching for youth, that knows the question...
Wasp divine
Kiss and kindred, the tools of solemn tone?
Enchastened with a host, too cursory to be orders vision
We hear the spoil of the wind, become a new loan
Wasp merciful
Craving a thought, to tell a tale kept
By the unity we foresaw, a heard bliss still...
Was a chance meeting with a yearning fate, bereft?
Wasp earthen
Where souls intertwine, the taste of home
Is a careful wish, foreseen in the earning?
Or should might, take the time to intend guidance as done?
Wasp witnesses
The tow of commonness, in the voice of salutations
Memory served, the break of justice in a winds shade
Here to fore, timidity is a challenge, for a truer intuition...
May 9, 2023
May 9, 2023 at 9:29 PM UTC
Time passes a thought
To another, in a climbing sense of renderings...
We see the call to unify, in a shy voice ought?
Today was a marveling hour, we could marvel's ends...
Bite me...with a resolve?
They said the sour news is a welcome sunshine
With pets and history to come at all...
Of a younger moment to be quiet, for a composure of time...
Hours as we know, a fixation on else
Can be, the truth be found in a place of sin
Was this imagined tongue, the saying of wealth
Yet to be, the stir of justice of what is a craved wince...
Of passion over a legend to become, our friends
The tale we notice, and simplify by devoid and avoid
Is but a loose remark of such to roll and imbue, the like we end
As if the world knows any better: the fight of certainty's choice...?!
Sly or slime?
Tows of redoubt, between lovers or a heroism of dry finality's
Sunny as we should note, is about the hour I am trying
We see the traitor of commonness and pence, our humor is...
A rushing eye, to know a catastrophe
That is being a silent opportunity, to approach though
And worth the implied key, we find in the future feat
Of lying to the misses, when a game is for those we hosted, should first owe...?
Jun 16, 2022
Jun 16, 2022 at 12:49 AM UTC
Twisted eyes of oak and ivory
Clanging, rusting gears of old, wily whispers
Hear the whimpering window drops
Across sadistic crossed circuits
Within an unwavering edifice to edify
In a masked evanescent parade.
Why must I watch?
Why must we learn?
Just another face in the crowd
Staring with ageless eyes
Among sheltered innocents
Walking within shadows
Driven by no desire
Where echoes of different
Times resound.
Looking for memories of yesterdays
Left unfound.
Stagnate in the suffocating silence
I, emotional exile
I, fugitive from freedom
Against image defined.
They, surrendered to mediocrity
They, shed the age old scent of our commonness
For machine refined.
Shocked reality
Mocked integrity
The wheels of industry ground.
Bold repressiveness shut out lives.
Opinions bent toward standard waves
Bleaching out divergent shades.
To fall out of use-
Too much allowed is the end of you
By excused abuse.
Vague ideals
Within profound direction.
Systematic spontaneity.
Weakened, weary prey
Synchronized in their play;
Immersed in the cause
All sacrificed inner needs
In collective reality
Collective response.
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 11:28 PM UTC
At the end of my day, looking out my window,
I reflect on the things I did, the friends I met, the thoughts I had.
I regret only what I regret, leaving out so much I could have lived but I didn't.
So many feelings conveniently ignored to make ground for a reflexive and inane life.
So many opportunities neglected and that remained invisible to me.
So much existence trimmed down or that passed by my side in silence –
I was too distracted with nothing and everything to reach out and ****** it and live it.
I’m happy nonetheless, for I realize that life is indeed a show of middling experiences
That arbitrarily builds up or into greatness or into commonness.
It’s the patchiness, the randomness of life that makes it wonderful and lovely.
It’s life untaken by contemplation that flows and grows into something special.
We think too much, for nothing!
Nature doesn’t need your help to follow its course.
You are and you will always be the greatest obstacle along your own path.
Bring down your guard and unwind your mind.
Try to be like the minute sparrow intuitively carrying a twig to its nest.
Let the wind blow, let the sun shine, let the grass grow.
I believe in a world that I can see, unfiltered by concepts,
That is touchable and is untainted by the mind.
To think is to destroy things – that’s the sole sake of thought!
I believe in a world that is solid, eatable, drinkable, and can be sensed by the skin.
I believe in a world that can be heard, and pushed, and slapped, and squeezed.
I believe in a world that is uncertain, but that is real.
Don’t come to me with your romantic and impractical ideas that are hazy and shapeless,
That require my gullible imagination, my complicity, and a speck of idiocy, to survive.
I want to stay authentic. Please, let me stay ignorant and authentic!
My feelings are my thoughts (they are my only thoughts).
I have feelings as a flower has scent and colors.
I don’t want to think about the world. I don’t want to understand it.
I want to be a part of it. (To be we don’t need to think.)
I just want to love the world and accept it.
I want to love it, but I don’t want to know why I love it, nor what it is I love.
I want to love it for love’s sake.
I want to love it with childlike innocence.
Love is always uncomplicated. Remember this,
Love is always uncomplicated.
Calmly, as the oak tree I see in my garden,
I pull back from my window sill and go back to my life,
To my pointless life, my careless life, my foolish life,
So filled with simplicity, truth, and beauty.
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 4:45 PM UTC
Knowledge is now very simple
Single word questions
And answers in a breath.
Knowledge is now aplenty
Evenly cut pieces of bread
Within easy reach of the laziest
Then why do you
Lift your eyebrows
When forty line answers are spit out
For question that won’t hold in four lines.
The Thaj Mahal is not a wonder, its snobbery
The vain argument goes on.
From the other lone
This lone doesn’t look greener
but only a funeral patch
You are argue with yourself
And throwing a set of fruitfulness question:
Why the evening’s rosiness nestles in the snake bird’s eyes?
Where does the garden lizard leave its memory for a while?
When did the owl start cleaning the day’s dirt to end the night?
Who feeds the pair of rabbits on the moon without fail?
In what soft tones does the ant whisper secrets to its mate?
In which impoverished month did the white ants burp and wipe their lips
Who wrenched the cricket’s courage that they make such noise?
Why can’t the **** wake up the neighborhood without loosing its sleep?
Why can’ t the peacock break its contract with the rain clouds?
From where did the fox gain its cunning?
Which river entered the forest, fighting the sea?
Why war, floods, poverty, quakes?
In word : God’s fury.
Look how simple knowledge is,
Beautiful in its commonness.
Still you argue
You swear
What met isn’t knowledge
Nor the way to knowledge
Then of what
Does it symbolise?
Tell me in a word.
======
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 1:53 AM UTC
Connections and commonness
Adds charm
Even to an acquaintance
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 7:42 AM UTC
Grey insistent rain
is falling on my world.
Sad shriveling old asphalt
shrugs off abandonment
and lies stoic in the cold and wet.
Looking out my window
I see people pass splashing.
Shall I put on my 'winter weeds'
and go amongst them unknown?
Then, as the rain pelts my body,
I can touch my chest and whisper,
"Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa."*
But I am not washed clean.
I walk a lonely mile into the wind.
I see mud, and stark branches
and metallic traffic blurring by
and in my commonness I am invisible.
Suddenly a sob bursts from me
from the depths of my longing
and I look around to be sure no one heard.
But if they did, there's no sign.
I walk on to a park close to my home
and stand against a tall majestic tree.
Its branches enfold me
and keep me from the rain.
The roots are so very deep.
I feel my sadness dwindle to the ground
and I am weak, but my heart's less torn.
The storm inside me, like the storm outside has quelled.
Distracted and confused I make my way home.
I sleep to dream of some fabled sun.
Some other world, some other dimension.
Some other me.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 3:21 PM UTC
Birds sing and fly
Flowers smile
Rivers flow
Mountains invite
Rainbows bend in
Seven colours
Sunset and sunrise
Do not amaze us
With their beauty
Their beauty
We do not care
With them we cannot pair
We do not have time
To stand and stare
At them to feel
And heal our broken selves
We catch them
In our cameras mechanically
Showing off our taste
In a haste lest the time
Should pass between
Our fingers stealthily!
We are busy fighting
Over a dead carcass
We use all our might
To prove our commonness!
While Nature laughs at
The grotesqueness of humanity
Its song, fragrance, breathtaking heights,
Soothing colours that might bring sanity
Are squandered and drowned in the rites
Of violence engraving epitaphs at
The doors of suffering humanity!
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 9:10 PM UTC
vagrant in black corners creep
complaining with darkest meaning
remembering the border of commonness
or forgetting
she spins does life
the web we get so caught up in
wove into corners and kept for another day
complex as dark yes
no a minute to think
the spinnerets go on weaving
complex webs
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 1:36 AM UTC
All roads lead here, the Conduit says.
You cannot count the infinite paths.
To fathom every touch is madness.
But, brick by brick, time after time..
This place has written its own history.
How can it be so, in such a small plot,
To spin the tales of so many?
To be the grand hall of tears and joy,
misery and folly, hope and fear?
Who would we be without it?
How are we so bound to a singularity?
We must marvel at the commonness of it all.
We must marvel and be thankful.
We must marvel but not dwell.
All places, in all worlds are the shapers of creation.
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 10:08 AM UTC
There are red storms inside me;
All these, in a drained solitude.
Pains, need not exceed to feel;
but even to breathe, I feel ill.
There was a child, there were stars--
yet I have not yet been born.
What might they expect from me;
When what they see is just sanity.
Normalcy, which I think absurd
That they condemn me as awkward;
I do not conform to their scars,
They do not dear me in their hearts.
Mornings are hard, and afternoons;
that I feel home at lonely nights.
Their mighty skies are unjust to me,
They ruptured my arts, my poetry.
Nights are home to my lullabies;
Unheard songs, unspoken colours.
My pride, which paints and writes no more
Hath never felt loved before.
These scars, that once threw me
Continue their flamboyant dance.
The London streets are no longer;
I have been left in here, forever.
These holes, that have corrupted me
Craving for my souls inside out;
I am not loved, not a beloved
Life has had of my love enough.
The swarming moon, and lilac sky
Shall mean no more when I die;
All around me is commonness,
No madness, no rains, no happiness.
The sheltered sun and dire summer
May they thrive in their jolly days;
May love bloom again when I leave,
and when I’m gone, shall still it live.
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 10:52 PM UTC
Sally would with the wall
Music so shrouded, a hat of compliance
The terror involved
A chance meeting with resolve, that stated intention...
My name is Carlton
Spate energies, and the vague way
A harping halt to better problems
Has saved me from a hateful demon, with it to say:
Choose me over any other, the collapse of vows
Has a futile throw of light, in the remark innuendo made
Salt and harmony, to fetch a liberty without how
Is a door on commonness, that has the shape of futures sate
Lemonade and dickory cookies
Shown the time of their life, a hallway to sigh
Scurrilous was a special man, with a plan, for a dreams ease
With the stone of fending remorse into a corner, of life...
Patiently, the day came to a close...
Proud Sally, or privileged Carlton
A wish adrift in the evening your, the scared host
Of another smile to win, the promise of a stoic question...
Hello, I have the world to sleep longer than me
Simply roles of victory, victimized by a lip of succor
Rhyming and doling the obvious, of a secret means
To an ending for serenity, that knows your craving for ours?
May 8, 2024
May 8, 2024 at 4:01 PM UTC
I look at you.
No one is more beautiful just because no one can replicate you,
copy you, be the way you are.
Your golden hair, your little pinky mouth may seem something of commonness, but your eyes contain such an inner sense no one is able to possess.
I love you. I've never met you, seen you or touched you, but I feel every inch of you
as if you were close to me, as if you were here.
The way you sing,
the way you move & smile makes me tremble every time I think of you.
You're the sunshine; the one I can never reach, the one I can never resist to admire.
Were you right next to me, maybe that inner beauty would have disappeared? Maybe you'd turn into an ordinary human being.
We'll never know.
I prefer you to stay this far from me, far enough to save that mystique of yours, that inner peculiarity & angelic essence.
Nov 24, 2019
Nov 24, 2019 at 5:30 AM UTC
i sit in the darkness
for i can not see
why is it that emotion controls me
fear
i try to see the sun
but the cloudiness in my eyes
prevents me
fear
i want to feel safe
both day and night
but can't
fear
why is the darkness my comfort
but light my prison
fear
when i look inside myself is see a tornado of color
these colors are my emotions
emotions i can not control
fear
each color stands for one emotion
red is anger
blue is happiness
purple is sadness
black is hate
yellow is commonness
grey is fear
why can i not understand these emotions and control them
fear
do i really have these emotions
am i emotionless
a person who feels nothing
or is it something else
fear
by scarlet rose
April 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
the x-axis time
plotted against the commonness of peace
the y-axis seems broken
one straight line
from left to right
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 11:08 PM UTC
Commonness of the flowers -
virtuous insignificance,
invoking visions of royalty
for ants, and snails, and such,
How trivially contests mankind,
what costumes their children wear,
while, silently, a bulbous sun
sidles across the sky.
Aug 26, 2021
Aug 26, 2021 at 2:35 AM UTC
Tears unshed before, fall now
The distance ahead, shrunk to an end
Memories are spared for us to keep
Time continues, even at our standstill
Years spent, succumb to a day.
Our last paper, joying our spirits
Together we wrote; each his own
The moment a speciality, faded into seriousness
A room filled with relief, not ready to relieve
The future is bound, the past is profound.
Walking away from the building, once detested
A struggled step, not a leap
No matter our differences, our commonness are intertwined
The regrets we have, are that of knowing
The base we had, cherished more considering the unknown.
Friends that motivated our wake, promise to stay
Lightly are their words taken, the truth we have seen
Gratitude owed, to all those who held us up
Chapters written, a glory unmatched
As our grasps meet once more, finality taints the romance.
Life begins again, with responsibilities anew
The crossroads met, our respective pursuits acknowledged
A farewell granting us solace, to a well-traveled journey
Love found, lost to a depart
Our childhood glides away; independence, comes to stay.
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 1:53 PM UTC