"concurrent" poems
The question regarding the question relies on what the question really is.
If the question implied is a question directed outwardly, then it may be misinterpreted as a question to oneself internally.
Otherwise, a question explicitly directed inwardly is critical to deciphering the question that one will address outwardly.
If an indirect question is questioned through the user, then the question itself becomes a metaphysical question to choose from.
In the event a question is said through alternate means, consider the quantitative/qualitative state of the question at the time being; as it may be resolved by asking the question in a subconscious level indeed.
Superficial means tends to seek fundamental questions to the reality of the state one naturally possesses.
In the case where the unconscious decides the opportune event to question the conscious reality, one must interpret the means in examination of the intrapersonal mentality.
If the question is imposed through correlative thought and subliminal expression, then the question itself is related to a parallel conscious state intertwined with the unconscious state of mind of progression.
If the question is relative in combination to the solutions mentioned above becoming apparent, then one has means to ask the question without questioning the question itself in disparate.
Otherwise, the question continues to perplex the question through the continuation of irrelevant questions that one will have thought; creating a treacherous belief so concurrent one could not have fought.
Therefore, is the reality of the question portrayed to the reality you live in or the reality of others? As this poem was conclusive to subtly evoke thought in the questions we construct.
By: Michael M. De La Fuente
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
Pure in it's gleaming marble white
a rare conch shell, well formed,
with 'reverse turning spiral',*
he holds, in both palms with reverence
closer to his naked chest, where
his beating caged heart tries to create
echoes, as if it, in an unknown
mysterious way, represents
a myth entwine him with pure nature.
An intriguing remains, retrieved,
from the accumulated deep sea secrets,
where still his memories vaguely roam
in another life, as a creature of the deeps.
The conch he is aware, hides tender notes
that bridles air, water and fire, cosmic ripples
prods him subtly to accelerate his quest,
a swim towards the maelstrom of inner core,
commingling with the music cosmos conducts
every moment, with it's billion piece orchestra grand.
She is a flame burning in clarified butter,
his consort,her eyes reflect a concurrent spirit,
both her palms she bring together ,makes a lotus thus
and a red blooming lotus is nestled between palms.
Her lotus speaks of fecundity,from which flows love and life
generations, descend find succor, in the gentle fragrance,
and warmth, the lotus, protects, even at the midst of a freeze.
Her eyes are blissfully half closed immersed in the fragrance
wafting in the air spreading in waves far and wide.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC
Eloquence is comprehensive beauty.
Brevity shows a command and respect of time.
Wisdom breeds their concurrent existence
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 4:27 PM UTC
I think that there cannot be
anything prettier than the
sight of thee... as we
break the shackles and become
free...moving, wiggling, and
shifting away from illness, away
from health, just simply away
and into a new higher consciousness
of our collective ... health.
From concurrent disorder to currencies, flows, and pathways of order...
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 4:04 AM UTC
I'm not taken aback by the beauty of the sun or moon.
But that's okay, at least I've learned in time that there are very little differences between objects labeled mine and days considered wasted time. Entitlement is a false concept paralleling a religious purgatory.
That's not the point anyways. I'm left with unbearable heat and a pool of thoughts best resembling some sort of molten pudding left out in the sun for weeks of stifling inattention.
Let it just be known that the smell was not my intention.
Regardless of what fills your nostrils ephemerally, keep in mind that this stench haunts me perpetually. It's apathy towards my sensitive skull stifles me. It's as if I was able to just shake off these shadow-inducing invaders like a bad habit. But no matter how much you try to **** a shadow, it's always there following you. Breathing on you. Casting oxygen upon your neck until there's nothing but sweat and fear left to expose.
With such an affinity to what darkness lies behind me, there are few words to authentically compose.
How can I continue? How can the beat stay in rhythm and my words stay in tune when I'm a butterfly stuck in a cocoon? If these hollowed walls could speak I bet they'd entertain the idea on meaningless entrapment.
Go now. My words for this horrid state of mind have run dry. They do nothing but mask themselves and then exponentially multiply.
So leave me for the beauty of the sun and the moon. I'll never wish anything more than a simple, concurrent release of everyone from his or her respective cocoon.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 12:33 PM UTC
With mixed conversations aligned inside
our expectations don't always comply.
What could be wet could also be dry,
when we see other options offered in mind.
Hesitance often slows the path we possess
but a personal pace sustains motivation, and anyone's race can turn about face.
Is it really such a lonely road for an individual to search the unknown, testing their growth.
We usually follow what seems set out in front, concurrent ideas and beliefs seep through us.
The leaves of the trees determine the falls, as time spaced apart often changes our attitude.
The landscape of life will transform with a call, through those cycles we bind to vary our mindset. Lessons for all are shown but not always learnt, as repetitive tones tend to compliment worth.
Listen to the figures above, providing purpose when we're feeling deep or down on our luck. The answers can vary and we have to choose, but there are no limits as we continue on through.
Aug 15, 2021
Aug 15, 2021 at 4:08 PM UTC
The time has come forth to ponder and think,
about the spiritual planes that are reluctantly unforeseen.
Of the dimensions that are surreal to those who use emotion and feel.
The mind creates an undeniable creation that disguises itself to be real.
Enduring and speculating on the thought of consciousness and love;
one will realize the reality of our minds perception defying the dogmatic breeding brawl.
Although our minds potential is finite and cleverly obscured;
we will begin to witness the marching of shooting stars so pure.
Imminently clear, we begin to reach a higher plane of degree.
Meditating to the point where we become one with the universe without plea.
Encompassing the ethereal and uncovering half-truths,
perceiving the ultimate correspondence intelligently and shrewd.
Where will one travel amidst the taunt of death and fear?
To a place that is all well too known, a herd of aimless tears.
Lacrimation will enlighten those when they have fallen in the solstices peak.
To experience a world that was previously known as a philosophical creation by the streams.
Metaphysical questions will mark its toll to the soul who learns to decipher no more.
Otherwise, contentions will cause despair and half truths will then have to bear.
Inducing a different consciousness to a degree not explored before;
one will embark on a alchemic journey of the mental transmutation to the inner soul.
Mental creation spurs the ****** of the universal degree of spirit and mind.
An illusion so concurrent to the law depicted within our eyes alter-mind.
Deception will avail to those who blindly believe they have prevailed;
when attempting to solve the riddle behind the creator of the tale.
By: Michael M. De La Fuente
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
It happened because we let it happen.
It was made to happen and it did.
Because it happened to happen
we have to have more things happen
in order for the sum of all these
happenings to be
advantageous to us.
Bottom line,
it happened, and now we happen to be what's happening.
It's an ongoing process,
what's happening, and it can't cease now. Not for any reason.
Now is not the time
for anything else
to happen but what
is happening.
What's happening now is unable
to not-happen because of all the happenings
leading up to this
unfortunate happenstance. Here
we, logically, happen.
If a hospital happened to be
obliterated
as a result, it was only an
insignificant,
concurrent happening,
not our primary intention,
but it was necessary to happen.
If the children happened to get slaughtered, it was necessary to happen.
We have a right to have it happen and
have it
keep happening,
even if we made it happen
first.
Nov 14, 2023
Nov 14, 2023 at 7:10 PM UTC
I took you backwoods
Twilight went backwards
We crossed dimensions
Then Ian played flute
I told you what I want
You took a twist with your drink
We agreed to make it work
Babies made without actually having
I made you mine without thinking
You made me yours with a smile
Then you took your opposition
Gender reversal made math in your favor
Came out the way we both devised
Lord alien’s plan to metaphor control
As each other’s shade defense for lording
Partners in the grimy way we win over others
Your command heightens my experience
As we sway to the beat of concurrent hearts
Strumming stringed theories of dimensional bliss
Musical spheres sewn in the altogether
Quilting our shared communal experience
Grandmother, network our connections
Through mirth, myth, and siren’s long song
Superlative man-beast ushers your dancing words
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 11:11 PM UTC
Despite outward appearances,
we are the same inside.
My heart beats like yours.
S1, S2. lub dub lub dub.
My lungs expand and collapse as yours,
My eyes observe yours watching me
And we are one.
Our lives, separate but concurrent
Have hardened our skin,
And softened our hearts,
Weathered our faces,
And strengthened our resolve.
I, the carer by title,
and you, the receiver by name,
the roles are readily reversed.
I am healed by your trust
And you by my ken
For we are commensal parasites--
Each requiring the other to live
While we sit, vulnerable,
Ready for the taking.
In my white coat,
And your white gown
We meet, as humans
To heal.
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 4:24 PM UTC
I KNOW WHY I DID IT…
With a tender good smile i went through and succeded…
The motives were not so good but selfish…
I became an egotist…
I became a hypocrite…
I became infested by evil thoughts…
All thee things were put randomly and i had to repuzzle them…
Nothing ever bothered me but i was bothering u…
You are lucky i didn’t hunt you but i was haunted…
I always gave my self a pat on a shoulder for it even though it’s evil but what can i say i liked it…
I found my self counting and the list was endless, everytime i thought i was done i remembered another…
A fact nobody ever succeded without panishment in evil deeds…
I know why i did it…
Trust me its not that easy…
Its not even easy to let loose nor undastand why you did it…
Its always good when you are in a comfort zone pity it doesn’t last long…
The only cure was the but couldn’t reach out…
It wasn’t difficult at all but evil thoughts were dominating…
If you wana know its simple but complicated to undastand and now i know why i did it…
That simple thing that keeps the smile and tears concurrent…
The seed of all good things in life…
The catalyst of influential good spirit that bring world together…
The great keeper of peace…
I know why I did it…
LOVE Was the main reason!
Writting is a very good way of sharing your thoughts and experiences, its worth it the is no useless information….
Visit my blog...
www.afrowritings.wordpress.com
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
I’ll cry a sea of madness
and break down into
raging thunders for
you,
my darling.
But only if the
masts of your ship sails
in the direction of
the gale wind
that leads into
the uproar of
my love.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 9:50 AM UTC
People will have their opinions,
disturbingly
here we are miles apart,
concurrent
living under moss
mowing another's grass,
a tumultuous blast.
Love
stood up
living in the past.
Sep 15, 2023
Sep 15, 2023 at 1:48 PM UTC
I’ve gotten used to being set
Set aside
Set straight
Setting like the sun on the idea of happiness
Dying to so many dreams
I don’t have enough phalanges to count them on
People hurt me because they
Think they know me
(You don’t know me, not even a little)
I had forgotten how it feels when you hold me
I had lost the lust to know you
Blade sharp visions
Cutting away at my ability
To hold up my life card
I want to punch out and leave.
Pleasure and pain concurrent
*** and little deaths roll together
I have never spelled it out before
Your *** your *** your species, your intimacy
It murders my self-confidence
It leaves me barer than birth
And hungry for something
That isn’t real
(And you still don’t know me)
tears are my life’s work
blood is my excuse for living
I leave it in the veins
Because anything else would be
Too messy.
In my fantasies
We watch football on the couch
Drink beers with fancy labels
And I fall asleep on your shoulder.
I could make a whole life
In the small of your back
In the space behind your ear
I would color in your lines
And connect your dots.
We would be childhood happy.
(You don’t want to know me)
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 3:36 PM UTC
Sudden anamnesis.
A sound, a time.
A season, a rhyme.
Immersed in ghostly remembrance.
For a time I am neither here nor there.
In an instant my body aches,
Longing for a taste of a place my essence has been summoned to revisit.
At this exact moment I doubt my past-self.
Did I really live in that moment?
Did I inhale the air of life and exhale the desire of concurrent vanity?
No matter the answer, doubt forever remains.
Note to self:
Stop wishing time away.
Stay longer.
Breathe deeper.
Listen.
Devour the colors.
Echo Devine vibrations.
Bathe in the waters.
Existence without resistance.
Saturate.
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 3:53 AM UTC
Sometimes I wonder what came first:
falling in love or falling in art?
I wanted to write words about you before we even met
and now all I do is spill you from my fingertips.
Is the space between heartbreak and art
as far apart as the distance between you and the sky
or are they concurrent?
I don't love you anymore exists parallel to this poem
and I am the incipient to the line between.
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 11:46 PM UTC
Concurrent sessions of geometric,
(explicitly whimsical)
liquified squares
arose from patterned nether regions
of ‘somewhere else out there’
in smothering particles of
truest radiant flares.
And sat I upon the visible dreamscape space
that existed no-where
but outside of my illusory plan,
and cherished, I, the pictorial preempted
in the moment of my after-life birthing
of which polite demand
again beseeched me ride.
Yet not a one of the graphical displays
(filtered fresh from infinite dimensions)
approached me like a complete whole
– neither a partial whole –
but as a synchronistic sphere
of clouded systemic rumours
made to halt to keen attention
but one light-bodied and mirrored virtual soul
such as the sporadically alter-egoed I.
Flowing from one source to the next,
beyond the simple measure of a single point
a blast of knowing flagged a recognition spark
that folded time and space
betwixt one universal structure
unto the
(not unlike symbiotic)
self instructioned mind –
and so to Mind Exist described another route
for Love to spread It’s fastest cycle;
birthing cells and growing rife,
to yield a fresh creation.
And hereupon I watch/ed with hunger
that which transpired time before,
providing what is harnessed now,
with will to still repeat again,
and so again to knot forever
into chains of new momentum;
weaving,
waving,
slipping through and marking too,
another path to God.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 7:48 PM UTC
Salmon kiss
a river twice upon
its running cheeks,
over and again...
till turned upon,
as if hit by an avalanche
from a peek to be thrice
blessed.
Countercurrent,
concurrent
agon of salmon...
upon their side, still with ascent.
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 1:06 AM UTC
I would like to pontificate like that mad ones,
Like the predecessors that eluded me,
And my concurrent mad generation,
The system and analysis may have differentiated,
Deteriorated by becoming Behemoth,
The beat ones,
They still exist,
They wear
An auspicious mask,
An ethereal cloth,
A vivacious sole to the shoes,
Those brand new shoes,
Jack bought after he came down from Desolation,
To where I selfishly want to traverse,
Some time spent,
Alone,
Sitting holding my **** in my hand,
The other held to my chest,
Palm outward to the world,
Inclusive vibes working their magic,
To travel through the ages,
To greet the mad sages,
To feel the smaller world of the past,
Immense in difference,
Eerily similar that it hasn’t changed,
Since then.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
Drenched on a cold blooded afternoon
For I was always different
From the usual misfits of the universe
Vulnerably concurrent but different
Frogs of a well
Diverse but in an aspect same
Couldn’t reach their zenith
But I, I was not the same
For we the leopards
In this bounty jungled
Spotted with past laurels, fame
For with history my thoughts never mingled
For I could see far and beyond
Outside the realms of humanity
For I was always different
Grounded,blind in my cemetery
For I am not a Roman Diete
But a paper boat on the currents
For I was always what I am
A roaring lion but different
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 2:29 AM UTC
" the server "
you don't need to walk on the wire
for you to learn how will you balance
that hearsay oftentimes could provoke
a significant in a way it won't swindle!
if your impatience will prove that... "it is better to wait for nothing rather
than nothing for waiting"
Don't you worry about the time you are ignored , with the help of the
crater
your distressed feeling will perish together,
concurrent with that hand waving!
the grace of your labor will come
just voice it out if you want some
with your melodious affection, need not more
cause i will come again,without even screaming my name!
~~o0o~~ inspired by Sassy J ~~~o0o~~~
thanks for reading and a challenging comment from you
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 10:22 PM UTC
Away and apart from routine
A departure from the past
There is something that remains in mind
To exactly figure out this something is a difficult task.
Predominantly it's a worry
At some point of time it seems to be worry
Time and again the mind is worried about something.
Apart from worry
Still there is something that goes on in the mind
Quite essentially it can be anything, if not everything
To figure out exactly what else goes on in the mind takes time and effort.
As and when,
In fact whenever,
A time comes to define what's going on in the mind
The first thing that gets all the priority is cause
What's the exact cause behind this?
In fact worry is something that can run concurrent to a cause.
Always there is a flow to the thoughts going in the mind
Prior to this there was something going on in the mind
After this, the next thing that needs to be done
Then something else
Like this and so on
Some sort of pattern gets noticed over a period of time.
What goes on in the mind can be a flight of imagination
A desire for something might occupy a space in the mind
Diversity in thought process has always remained there
Also important is to integrate all the different patterns
Bring them together, club them, combine them
Once integrated,
After an unison the mind becomes stable and thoughts clear
Always it's priority that does it's work over a period of time.
Focus and concentration as and when they go hand in hand, then the ouctome has remained much more than expected.
Important is the fact that both should have their own relevance
When the level of concentration is good enough to suffice, then it becomes important to have a focus on goal.
Time consumed, time spent and time utilized
In one way or another
In whichever way time gets used
Always it has remained a key element
An element, which will make all the difference between winning and losing.
So always make up your mind
Decide upon something
Once decided
Thoughts need to be scrutinized
Then, forget worry about future
Think about what is there in front of you
In front of your eyes
Keep an eye on your goal
Think about the same in your mind and forget worry
Once decided upon something, then take the first step in the right direction and move towards your goal.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 7:31 AM UTC
I’ll cry a sea of madness
and break down into
raging thunders for
you,
my darling.
But only if the
masts of your ship sails
in the direction of
the voyeuristic wind
that leads into
the uproar of the waves
that will tear you apart
with my volatile love.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 9:48 AM UTC
does not necessarily mean that you like a particular thing;
it means that you recognize the significance of a thing
and it's effects on concurrent, as well as subsequent, things.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 3:08 PM UTC