"concepted" poems
Son, if you ever get a girl pregnant in high school
You better stay with her
You better financially support the life you concepted
Because you made the decision
To do the act
Its your choice to counteract your mistake
By being the man that doesn't flake
Trust me, that poor girl will be going through a world of hell to take care of that child
Son, if you ever get a girl pregnant
I want you to learn and have your head held up high and be ad loyal as you can be
I didn't raise a quitter
I raised a man that will be the difference to a young woman, even during the most hectic times.
I will be upset, but I will take the child as my own
Make sure you fight for her when people judge her falsely
Because were all human and we make mistakes
But this new life could be the imperative change for this planet
I want your goals to come alive as you plan it
Hold onto her
Hold onto your dreams
Hold onto hers.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 10:14 PM UTC
There are somethings there that you don’t actually feel,
and there are some things you feel that
aren’t actually there
.
It’s to any’s curiosity
that Ive lost my grip
on reality’s terminology
Notes:
what does the word real mean? Your thoughts aren't a thing but a concept, but we consider them real. They really happened.
Then... Is all concepted real? What if something's not physically real but i believe it's real?
Who can then tell me it's not reality.
My physical self is a trap, physicality another bind. Your senses make you think this sensory world is all there is.
The places my mind goes are real to me.
feelings , the hands that hold up the pathways my heart wanders upon; and thoughts the boat my mind uses float in a vastness.
A dot in the middle of it all is consciousness, an existing that means so much Less.
And I no longer consider reality, my reality.
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 3:01 PM UTC
From within the confines
of our narrowly concepted
rituals of the insular good,
we love to love babies
we love to pity children
we love to forget young adults
and we love to blame their parents.
How quickly we forget
or choose to ignore,
from the safety of
acceptance & comfortability & choice
that we once
loved & pitied & forgot
every parent we ever blamed.
How quickly we forget
or never realized
how our sunny dispositions
to judge
blind us so easily
from the facts.
For example, we know
that babies really do prefer the sound of
their mother’s voice
above all others,
that they cry in the accent of their mother’s tongue,
because her voice reverberated
down, so perfectly
into that protected capsule.
That in their glassy-eyed stare,
they see us
in a way no one else ever will.
That fetal brains
are evolutionarily genius
in the way they grow and adapt
to the threats of stress or scarcity
in ways that will shape the
rest of their lives.
We know, for example,
that children are lanterns of consciousness
looking and learning in all directions
at once.
As helpless, dependent beings
they are subconsciously
conducting experiments
and using conditional probability,
reading the complexity of human emotion,
and connecting through language
to piece together their realities.
And so, they exist,
Brilliant and Dependent,
until the impendent time
when we cast them
Worthless and Independent,
ready (or not) to plant
ready (or not) to grow
the next season of seeds.
In spite of our ignorance
and condescension
we will, eventually,
embrace 0-3
only to realize
that it was misadvertised.
That humans do not exist in disparate
parts.
They cannot, like legos,
be constructed in an orderly
fashion,
but, like everything else
on this Earth,
love and grow
wholly
with the cycles of the sun
and the universe.
It is not wrong,
but it is not enough
until we decide, instead,
on that infinite loop
from now until death
over and over
again.
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 3:12 PM UTC