"destabilising" poems - Hello Poetry

It is simple, and yet sublime; Incapturable. You need not go in, Take away the man, destabilising the economy That you so love Letting them die You need not assassinate and collaborate, Scheme and puncture Spheres of influence that stretch and bubble In Latin America and Southern Asia, You need not sign secrets away Safe and deep In silos and bunkers Where Armageddon sleeps. You need not supply, buy and axchange Implements of violence and rage, Picking sides in civil war, tribal conlflict And bigger, In lands you do not understand Lands where the mountains resonate with holiness, Lands of spiritual awakening awaiting for the young; Concepts you can’t grasp, that don’t sit well You need leave them be. Enough has been done, Not always with bad intention But rarely for the greater good Enough has been said and bought and replaced Captured, shot at, disgraced, Caricatured into funny cartoons Taken over, the masters’ role assumed. For all the radars and sonar It seems impossible to listen; Simple, yet sublime. Incapturable. Irreplaceable.

0

May 5, 2014

May 5, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC

h-w-erellson

Incapturable. Irreplacable.

It is simple, and yet sublime; Incapturable. You need not go in, Take away the man, destabilising the economy That you so love Letting them die You need not assassinate and collaborate, Scheme and puncture Spheres of influence that stretch and bubble In Latin America and Southern Asia, You need not sign secrets away Safe and deep In silos and bunkers Where Armageddon sleeps. You need not supply, buy and axchange Implements of violence and rage, Picking sides in civil war, tribal conlflict And bigger, In lands you do not understand Lands where the mountains resonate with holiness, Lands of spiritual awakening awaiting for the young; Concepts you can’t grasp, that don’t sit well You need leave them be. Enough has been done, Not always with bad intention But rarely for the greater good Enough has been said and bought and replaced Captured, shot at, disgraced, Caricatured into funny cartoons Taken over, the masters’ role assumed. For all the radars and sonar It seems impossible to listen; Simple, yet sublime. Incapturable. Irreplaceable.

35

hypnotising mesmerising demonising terrorising television is devising ways and means for lobotomising globalising mesmerising summarising victimising mass media is advising ways and means for supervising ostracising privatising eulogising brutalising government is advising ways and means for destabilising © Cinco Espiritus Creation 2016

0

May 4, 2016

May 4, 2016 at 6:13 PM UTC

paul-gilhooley

...ising

hypnotising mesmerising demonising terrorising television is devising ways and means for lobotomising globalising mesmerising summarising victimising mass media is advising ways and means for supervising ostracising privatising eulogising brutalising government is advising ways and means for destabilising © Cinco Espiritus Creation 2016

23

This night carries me, blinded, in the back pocket of ***** minds and shabby dreams where I flat, and molded, press against this folded denim, warm and splayed with arms outstretched, longing, for another day; but what if I turn my head to over-peek the top of these fraying jeans, instead, grasping threads to keep me still within its seams – will the exhilaration of watching where I’ve just this moment been allow me inspiration asleep awake, to boldly look, clinging to the back end of these thoughts that write me, penned in ink, like a pre-determined book? Perhaps I should just – winded – forward face, ignoring the sour stench of this unmoving, walking, waking race, stalking through the darkness in a covered veil at quiet pace, destabilising future steps, accepting this acquired taste, processing my obsessive needs and bathing clean my crumpled face in chafing tears that fear progression, awash, alone, in one more nightly session. Devoid of light, here, ye, the theme: this narrow, stunted, ****** depression, the fabric of a self made bed – this bottomless pit of expression unstitching dreams of fortune as I swelter, melting hope again, apathetic, white of noise, inside my broken head.

0

Aug 16, 2015

Aug 16, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC

pisceanesque

POSTERIOR SUFFERANCE

This night carries me, blinded, in the back pocket of ***** minds and shabby dreams where I flat, and molded, press against this folded denim, warm and splayed with arms outstretched, longing, for another day; but what if I turn my head to over-peek the top of these fraying jeans, instead, grasping threads to keep me still within its seams – will the exhilaration of watching where I’ve just this moment been allow me inspiration asleep awake, to boldly look, clinging to the back end of these thoughts that write me, penned in ink, like a pre-determined book? Perhaps I should just – winded – forward face, ignoring the sour stench of this unmoving, walking, waking race, stalking through the darkness in a covered veil at quiet pace, destabilising future steps, accepting this acquired taste, processing my obsessive needs and bathing clean my crumpled face in chafing tears that fear progression, awash, alone, in one more nightly session. Devoid of light, here, ye, the theme: this narrow, stunted, ****** depression, the fabric of a self made bed – this bottomless pit of expression unstitching dreams of fortune as I swelter, melting hope again, apathetic, white of noise, inside my broken head.

56

Shadows on my mind In purple images play Echoes of words Shimmering, silhouettic Seductions, Hideous Perhaps, contagious Falseness as if in fatigue Indiscriminate, without Compromise in their counterfeit Lying in wait in eager ambush Hidden by a thought A thin antiquated distraction A solitary mutilation of identity Deflecting interest in amplified displacement Into delirious disguise, re-emerging in distraction Pestering, problematic, destabilising directness In their ubiquitous imaginary lie A realisation that one is all too aware of Yet despite this knowledge cannot help But conspire in their captivating complicity.

0

Apr 10, 2012

Apr 10, 2012 at 11:15 AM UTC

edgar-whitman-wilde

The Words

Shadows on my mind In purple images play Echoes of words Shimmering, silhouettic Seductions, Hideous Perhaps, contagious Falseness as if in fatigue Indiscriminate, without Compromise in their counterfeit Lying in wait in eager ambush Hidden by a thought A thin antiquated distraction A solitary mutilation of identity Deflecting interest in amplified displacement Into delirious disguise, re-emerging in distraction Pestering, problematic, destabilising directness In their ubiquitous imaginary lie A realisation that one is all too aware of Yet despite this knowledge cannot help But conspire in their captivating complicity.

20

I listen to the absence of time Allow myself to become wrapped in its nothingness It is a punctuated absence, like light through dust, Showing all my imperfections deep emotions and real desires My thoughts parade before me a regiment of vagabonds I view all this as if I had never existed Desperately searching through my boiling memory For something that may prove my existence I find nothing Now my mind is heavy with expectation Laden with an atmosphere of flawless irregularities Strangely I feel a dreadful sorrow I know I have always had desperation with life A black rainbow in the sky that has the purchase on my vision But the distain of silence nevertheless echoes weird With destabilising compensations My own splintered voice reverberating in my head Presents a clarity of particular insanity Now I realise for the first time I have kept my secrets even from myself So now when I reach out to find Me I can’t, it’s too late, I've already gone

0

Mar 6, 2012

Mar 6, 2012 at 1:38 PM UTC

edgar-whitman-wilde

Mind - Warp 15..........

I listen to the absence of time Allow myself to become wrapped in its nothingness It is a punctuated absence, like light through dust, Showing all my imperfections deep emotions and real desires My thoughts parade before me a regiment of vagabonds I view all this as if I had never existed Desperately searching through my boiling memory For something that may prove my existence I find nothing Now my mind is heavy with expectation Laden with an atmosphere of flawless irregularities Strangely I feel a dreadful sorrow I know I have always had desperation with life A black rainbow in the sky that has the purchase on my vision But the distain of silence nevertheless echoes weird With destabilising compensations My own splintered voice reverberating in my head Presents a clarity of particular insanity Now I realise for the first time I have kept my secrets even from myself So now when I reach out to find Me I can’t, it’s too late, I've already gone

22

Crows voices ringing, My mind destabilising, Must be you calling.

0

Jan 28, 2016

Jan 28, 2016 at 4:58 PM UTC

EzrathePoet

#4

Crows voices ringing, My mind destabilising, Must be you calling.

3

Slices through heat Similar to "Singer" sewing scissors on lace Destabilising -- Equilibrium With a casual, cool, calm, collectedness, As if nothing could Pierce its particles; Ruffle its feathers, Unsync its code.

0

Jun 16, 2025

Jun 16, 2025 at 4:45 PM UTC

bekahalle

Ice

Slices through heat Similar to "Singer" sewing scissors on lace Destabilising -- Equilibrium With a casual, cool, calm, collectedness, As if nothing could Pierce its particles; Ruffle its feathers, Unsync its code.

9