"determinism" poems
abolitionism
absenteeism
absolutism
abstractionism
absurdism
academicism
academism
achromatism
acrotism
actinism
activism
adoptianism
adoptionism
adventurism
aeroembolism
aestheticism
ageism
agism
agnosticism
agrarianism
alarmism
albinism
alcoholism
aldosteronism
algorism
alienism
allelism
allelomorphism
allomorphism
alpinism
altruism
amateurism
amoralism
anabaptism
anabolism
anachronism
analphabetism
anarchism
anecdotalism
aneurism
anglicism
animalism
animism
anisotropism
antagonism
anthropocentrism
anthropomorphism
anthropopathism
antialcoholism
antiauthoritarianism
antiblackism
anticapitalism
anticlericalism
anticolonialism
anticommercialism
anticommunism
antielitism
antievolutionism
antifascism
antifeminism
antiferromagnetism
antihumanism
antiliberalism
antimaterialism
antimilitarism
antinepotism
antinomianism
antiquarianism
antiracism
antiradicalism
antirationalism
antirealism
antireductionism
antiritualism
antiromanticism
antiterrorism
aphorism
apocalypticism
apocalyptism
archaism
asceticism
assimilationism
associationism
asterism
astigmatism
asynchronism
atavism
atheism
athleticism
atomism
atonalism
atropism
atticism
autecism
authoritarianism
autism
autoecism
autoeroticism
autoerotism
automatism
automorphism
baalism
baptism
barbarianism
barbarism
behaviorism
biblicism
bibliophilism
bicameralism
biculturalism
bidialectalism
bilateralism
bilingualism
bimetallism
biologism
bioregionalism
bipartisanism
bipedalism
biracialism
blackguardism
bogyism
bohemianism
bolshevism
boosterism
bossism
botulism
bourbonism
boyarism
bromism
brutism
bruxism
bureaucratism
cabalism
caciquism
cambism
cannibalism
capitalism
careerism
casteism
catabolism
catastrophism
catechism
cavalierism
centralism
centrism
ceremonialism
charism
charlatanism
chauvinism
chemism
chemotropism
chimaerism
chimerism
chrism
chromaticism
cicisbeism
cinchonism
civicism
civism
classicism
classism
clericalism
clonism
cockneyism
collaborationism
collectivism
colloquialism
colonialism
colorism
commensalism
commercialism
communalism
communism
communitarianism
conceptualism
concretism
confessionalism
conformism
congregationalism
connubialism
conservatism
constitutionalism
constructivism
consumerism
controversialism
conventionalism
corporatism
corporativism
cosmism
cosmopolitanism
cosmopolitism
countercriticism
counterculturalism
counterterrorism
creationism
credentialism
cretinism
criticism
cronyism
cryptorchidism
cryptorchism
cubism
cultism
cynicism
czarism
dadaism
dandyism
defeatism
deism
demonism
denominationalism
despotism
determinism
deviationism
diabolism
diamagnetism
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC
Here oh postmodern nihilist
the grave awaits
your death
wish:
Life
a
struggle
escape it
death
so tempting
grasp it
and take its era with you:
Keep it
away from our church's
our schools
our civics
and further culture.
Lo, the children
black as the hell they die in...
Its inordinately subjective unconsciousness;
confused emotionally with its ineptitude of reason.
Blaming its former God,
for their own doing.
Wanting to save that world upon themselves left behind from such a rejection.
Lest they live in a Christ so unjust.
As to not know all men equally,
but to judge them--in their distinction.
Creation
your natural law
emphasizes that which we do not want to come to terms with.
If only we could make us all inter-dependent biological beings of mechanization.
Chain me to genetic determinism and biochemical reactions foremost -- lest my soul affirms inequality:
Liberty exulted
by the risen Lord:
Supremacy/Autonomy
© S. Wesley Mcgranor
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 6:51 PM UTC
Turn off the light,
Force my eyes to adjust
So for a brief point in time
I don’t have to deal with the world.
The roués of an instance
Pressing and compressing
Ideas once held so dearly,
So close to the chest,
Fundamental morals that are nurtured and grown to define who I am, to determine what defines me,
to know what best explains who, what, when, where and why I become ‘I’;
...Has warped.
We are all required
To develop an acquired
Taste of territoriality
Over who we are, and what we have
Or,
Who we have and why we are.
“She is mine. From the second I laid eyes on her I knew.”- The Landlord
That determinism,
That ‘I am who I am, and the only thing that changes is time’
Is flawed.
Time does not change!
Who we are changes!
Change only comes from within.
The unfathomable amount of people I can and will be,
Stems from me and myself alone.
However poignant this is,
The matter arises that,
No question how much responsibility I have for why I am, who I am, and who I need to be;
These people will never meet.
We are told to dream,
That we can be whoever we want to be,
Though we never want to be who we are.
The closer we get to the carrot,
The more we realise
It is dangling from the pole taped to our heads.
Never live for the dream
Just be existent in the present,
For the vision does not exist.
And never will.
It just changes.
*And I am sick of dreaming… But I lack sleep.
…Oh god, what have I done?*
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 7:50 AM UTC
This is not really a poem; just an insightful realization of mine
We have this mainstream perception of human life—that we grow to freely love the things we desire to love. We are biologically-inclined to conform to the intuitive notion of 'freewill'. But what is supposed to be imprinted in our minds turns out to be no more false than the number zero being larger than one; in actuality, we are nothing but biological clockwork confined to obey the laws of nature.
Every atom in our body, every neuron streaking in our nerves, and every step we take, our body does so, for the laws of nature require it to. Our actions are as predetermined as the orbits of the planets, and paradoxically, it is as probabilistic as the location of an electron in its quantum orbit. We don't act out of our own will; we act out of necessity, for the laws of nature require us to behave the way we should be behaving.
They call it Scientific Determinism.
Disturbing, isn't it? And what does that make out of freewill and love? Simply put: freewill is an illusion, and love is the sweetest lie ever conjured up in this Universe. Even so, we still choose to believe in both. Why? Because we're humans; we long to live our life with a purpose, even if it takes for us to make up our own.
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 11:45 AM UTC
Compressed into this
Tiny space are the future
Boughs, leaves and flowers,
Random determinism,
Forrests from a single seed
Apr 30, 2010
Apr 30, 2010 at 10:37 AM UTC
Is trust really a delicate dance of uncertainty?
A lamb may skip with innocence over the bright dandelion-covered meadows of our majestic urban constructs, whilst Mother Nature unravels her thick carpet of jeopardy, without reservation or shame.
It is possible for us to refrain from captivations which allure us to the psychological precipice and to appreciate the chords of the blues which beautifully tantalise the innermost recesses of suppressed and forbidden yearnings.
So, join hands with the sonic waves of Saturn and respect the psychological precipice with sober awareness. Darkness and daylight are not dichotomous astrological differences where fatalistic determinism stands in diametrical opposition to authentic internal equilibrium.
Contemplate the soothing and beautiful anticipations of dusk, where the flight of the bat reveals a miraculous contrast against the deep pastel curtains of the night; and acknowledge that twilight exposes her morning glory in the simple droplet of dew.
The shadows hold no substance. Metamorphosis is a tangible possibility in the realms of existence. Do you believe it?
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 4:01 PM UTC
Areas of knowledge answer: How do we know?
Looking for the origins of our knowledge flow.
From mathematics to the ethics,
History to the arts,
These are the ways we tell types of knowledge apart.
First of these eight categories is math.
From axioms to logic it takes a very exact path.
Deals with conjecture and theorems; creating laws about the world.
Sometimes this complicated topic makes me want to hurl.
Next comes ethics with many complicated questions,
Using morals and values to give the proper suggestion.
Depends on people's views that differ by culture,
Questions from "Theft to save your family?" to "Killing a vulture?"
Areas of knowledge answer: How do we know?
Looking for the origins of our knowledge flow.
From mathematics to the ethics,
History to the arts,
These are the ways we tell types of knowledge apart.
Up comes history dealing only with the past;
It is only concerned with evidence and the facts.
Studies government propaganda to the plight of the peasant.
Deals with any kind of knowledge from creation to the present.
Fourth on the list are the human sciences,
From many loaded questions to our stream of consciousness.
Observations to conclusions, free will to determinism,
Deals with our knowledge of the world from the atom to reductionist
Areas of knowledge answer: How do we know?
Looking for the origins of our knowledge flow.
From mathematics to the ethics,
History to the arts,
These are the ways we tell types of knowledge apart.
Religious knowledge systems deal with people's beliefs;
Knowledge of God and the heavens to the world beneath.
From polytheism in Athens to life after death,
Knowledge coming from religion concerns us to our last breath.
The natural sciences, knowledge of the natural world,
Explaining how things work like biceps d'ring a curl.
Hypothesis, theories and all sorts of paradigms,
Knowledge so revolutionary that in the past it was a crime.
Areas of knowledge answer: How do we know?
Looking for the origins of our knowledge flow.
From mathematics to the ethics,
History to the arts,
These are the ways we tell types of knowledge apart.
Indigenous knowledge systems, the customs of the tribe,
Using folklore and storytelling to spread ancestor's pride.
Knowledge or tradition and customs of the ancient nomads,
Anything about the indigenous from the good to the bad.
Last on the list, the final area of knowledge,
Is the arts, all the way from elementary to college.
Dealing with aesthetics, forgery, kitsch and catharsis;
Without this types of knowledge we'd be stuck in the darkness.
Areas of knowledge answer: How do we know?
Looking for the origins of our knowledge flow.
From mathematics to the ethics,
History to the arts,
These are the ways we tell types of knowledge apart.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 12:33 PM UTC
Pertinaciously vituperative irrefragable determinism. Inscrutable axis of spontaneities’ imaginative. Perplexity’s prognosis to prospectus. Elan vital’s preternatural perpetuity. Cohesive coherency’s opaque opulence. Space-time continuum’s natural induction expressed as identity. Exponentially tangential imagination’s immaturity. Entropy catalyst blonds. Spaciotemporal telemetry tactician’s tellurian terrene. Protractive analyses dimensional delineation. Reflectively refractive positional empathy. Prophylaxis protocol. Objectified manifest's self inductive diminutive minutia iotas of interstitial edict. Graspy greedy stingy frugal mingy minions. Manumission’s indentured servant sail.
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 12:52 AM UTC
House. Blizzard.
Three three three
friends.
Three friends.
That’s what’s in the house.
Electric
heater. An electric heater.
That’s what they huddle around.
A person. Matt.
A person. Still Matt.
A person Ryan.
Two persons.
Three friends.
Me. I’m there.
Me. God, free-will.
They’re there.
Hard determinism?
God. That is what’s said.
Blizzarded on. Nothing tomorrow.
Talk on three friends. Logical.
We cement ourselves in.
There is more than us in the room.
That’s the conclusion. Logical conclusion.
Oct 2, 2010
Oct 2, 2010 at 9:15 PM UTC
Some dudes are down to fight
but they don't.
But what's crazy
is that *******
won't fight around white people
they're trying to impress.
They don't want to be a ****
even though
they don't know that we're all *****
in some way.
So when I slug you,
I'm not slugging you,
and when you slug me;
you're not slugging me;
we're just trying
to break free.
I miss the days of black pride,
black panthers
and black determinism,
when we weren't killing each other
and we weren't killing them
we were killing
what needed to be killed;
a mindset.
Without Marcus,
Malcolm,
Tupac,
Martin,
and Carlos
we are lost and we fight,
because all the black flowers that used to bloom
no longer bloom,
and the hope the resided in the birth of a screaming child
no longer resides.
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 9:25 PM UTC
Carmen's legs
are pixilated cerulean.
Rubbing beasts
that itch at untouchable
bruises beneath her skin.
Her computer is on.
She rests crossed legs
on its desk.
There's something sticky about her skin.
Carmen's date is calling,
her speakers make a sound
like **** plopping in a toilet.
The webcam blinks
like Sauron's eye.
Carmen has never had
any of the cards
in her hands.
Not a whiff of a queen of hearts
or a jack
of all trades.
It seems she's been slipping for awhile now,
in her black room, colored
by the glow of some
techni-cyclops'
cavernous mouth,
crimson, heart-shaped teeth,
and scythe tongue.
She has never known the war machine
of love,
or the war machine of self-determinism.
Now she does,
her compudate buzzes on-screen.
Tiny sprouted pixels
jump into a constantly
buzzing whole.
He's got a bored face,
and Carmen knows this is the look
of the generation.
Carmen lifts her legs from the desk.
Puts her hands on her lap.
Licks her lips.
She wants to know
what lowered human beings
do when they are restless.
She is seeking something
moreso
philosophical
than
******
"Bored, much?"
Carmen asks sardonically.
He took it literally.
He jumped at attention.
"Oh, no,
now that I've seen you."
"How do these things work?"
"Well, I guess we talk to each other,
and if you like me
then we go from there."
And to Carmen this was reticence,
this was blasphemy.
She had the cards in her hands,
finally.
Carmen's legs are pixilated high cerulean.
Cerulean the color of
a tiger ocean,
****** cakes,
slushies,
a sun-fucked sky,
a corpse. Skin against a computer screen.
Jun 28, 2012
Jun 28, 2012 at 12:26 AM UTC
The words don't come as easy anymore,
As if the very act of utterance
Has now become a chore.
Words that once slithered
From my mind and from my tongue,
Seem wrapped in insignificance.
Like the vacuous distance
Twixt our planet and our Sun.
Oh yes,
There are enough faint marks
That we can trace constellations
In the quiet of the dark.
Finding meaning that was never there,
Seduced by mediocrity
With just a pinch of natural flair.
I feel the muse has died,
The last ember of a humble
Fire,
Now fuel deprived.
So I shall trawl through the
Musings of others.
To find a spark and kindle
My lovers.
The spoken and written word,
Perhaps entwined
With a musical accord.
Perchance then? If my ego may be silent
Perhaps I could take pen again
Assault the salient!
Then if determinism agrees
I may once more feel the words
Flow through me like the breeze.
I will ink my conscience once more.
Till my mind is left adrift,
Treading water to
Distant shores.
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 7:24 PM UTC
We catcall our deaths
Until they show
A little skin.
Then we run back
To the ones
We've abandoned,
Just to say
We needed them
All along.
We mistake determinism
For free will
We mistake calculated moves
For wishful thinking.
These are our lives.
And if reincarnation
Is just another form
Of procrastination,
Why postpone
The inevitable?
New organs
For old bodies.
Old souls
For new flesh.
When your day
Has come
Will who you are
Be the same
As who
You could have been?
When we finally hit empty
For the last time,
Will it really be
The last time?
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 7:31 PM UTC
A paradox does lie below
Since many wise men claimed to know:
All spoken truth is doomed to fail
Cause every word works like a veil
Just hiding what is meant by it
As soon as we try to decrypt
Cause every meaning’s far beyond our wit
And as a consequence of that
They don’t know what they really said
Cause every thought they claimed they had
Can make its thinker really mad
Who tries to analyze its sense instead
Of going on or just ahead
Cause every logic is a truth born dead
All logic is a severed head
So paradoxes are no threat
Since they can help because they show
That we can’t say what we do know
Although we do it all the time
As long as we don’t fix loose signs
Cause we destroy the truth that we define
And truth would be a living thing
If words could leave their twisted string
That dooms all thoughts to keep on wondering
*So wait a minute
There is a trap in every thought
With a chance in it
To find another better word*
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC
The probability of life itself is unpredictable
For I can’t extract your mind or heart to decode
Likelihood of possibilities in measurable quotient
For I can’t retract a past gone by to encode
Continuums of even chances and certainty
The toss of the toasted dime, the weigh of sides
Slashed slide all smashed and thrown in mines
Fallibilism of my indefinable opinionated delicacies
Attenuations of what life is attacks and strangles my neck
Global troubles of war, bombs, hunger, anger
Illogical connotations of overlapping determinism
I burrow like a termite in a convex rising molehill
Terminated in contrasted stations as we convene
Gripping hands to grasp our existence in life
I wonder about the whole of it, I think of it somedays
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 10:50 AM UTC
Determinism is self-defeating
If it is true,
No one is accountable for anything.
If no one is accountable,
There are no morals.
Without morals,
There is no concept of right or wrong.
Without this concept,
We would all follow our desires.
Which according to determinism,
Are not our own choices.
If they are not our own choices,
Someone or something else made them.
But if someone or something
Determines our choices,
Who or what determines
The choices the determiner makes?
Either they make their own choices,
Which refutes determinism
Or the universe, space and time
Are infinite and cyclical.
Which they are not,
Since the universe had a beginning,
(Big bang/ creation)
And the universe will have an end.
(Heat death/ judgement day)
Whether you are religious or not,
Determinism is a fools errand.
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 12:53 AM UTC
A hillside--Wind;
Metallic beads from nowhere make tracks, that gears, follow and leave
Is the world really so simple?
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 7:52 PM UTC
a gray morning in November
unseasonably warm
once again it is the crows domain
they speak to one another, you know
the wind carries anticipation
the ground seems ready willing and able
to accept the coming snow
yesterday was a rare day
I did not drive my automobile
good news traveled my way
one dry leaf falls
floats on the breeze
****** it before it touches
the earth interrupting
determinism
anxiety stifles happiness
a goal that is realized
in stops and starts
a million jabillion thoughts
each and every day
yet we see ourselves as making rational choices
information overload
any idea what the mistake ratio might be ?
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 8:05 AM UTC
The point of differentiation,
not the point of contention,
the point of no return
continuation relative
to knowing subtle forces
ostensibly contained
in the whole truth,
and nothing but,
to which no doubt,
you are personally sworn,
under penalty of cognative
cacaphonic gnosisnot cough
to reembodeize, embody abide
completely centered, self aware.
Then, the fiber that fuses string
theory and determinism hooks
a loop in time's SYTF problem set,
so the set that made young
Earl Russell paradoxically famous,
from now on, one may learn and learn
from now on, until one disintegrates,
dissipates as cloud forms disperse,
to show us how it works, wooly
clouds meeting the reflected wind,
and the winds from the pacific,
pour down one side of my valley
and up the other side, to make those
parrallel feathery shapes one can watch
form on fine days
with nothing needing done,
if the determinists are right, what matters
if I use my time chosing to bend clouds
into vast wings involved in making me think.
Apr 18, 2024
Apr 18, 2024 at 5:59 PM UTC
I hate my body more than the events that define it
I don't want to be ****** as long as you don't touch me it's okay
the sky is dark and I plead for the rain after an infinite drought that causes my stomach to rupture and turns my tears into phosphorous drops only to be ignited by the rampant heavenly downpour
Oh my god is this it I ask openly as I inhale and exhale, slowly enveloping myself in fumes from my ruptured appendix and my crooked spine, growing like a plant that needs guidance to maintain rigidity
How long will it take for them to realize we are just
animals
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:48 PM UTC
Bruno
he trims a Cuban cigar and places it in his anti-authoritarian orifice:
Foreshadowing the mysteries of life brings the succulent cauldrons of mystical salaciousness to a boiling ardor. I’ll entice the myriad realms of your enchantress and wring the moisture out of your femininity. I’ve got a cat of nine tails in my hands- I dare you to stroke me, you sassy ***** just so you may know my obeisant oblations orchestrations. No other woman moves me like the feral ***** you employ.
Caspian
Choreographed katas supplement his beast.
He’s adamant and masculine, and plucks the strings of his guitar in anticipation of your ****** harmonies. Pounce firmly on his erotica erectile like the black panther of his lust’s rebellion. Caress the protuberance of his virility- mount his exsertion- hair on hair- wanton on wayward- peal him slowly with your agile ictus- he’s ambrosia and honey- extort the fecundity out of him and give it back like a fertile libation.
Roland
He’s like a Mayan calendar. Excruciatingly exacerbating, imperturbably tenacious. He’ll draw the sport out of you and make you bounce like a cowgirl on a bronco. Only to buck you off and leave you in the dust like a flaccid martyr on the ground he tramples. You’ll reminisce his wily gate where ever you tread, and ****** yourself at the thought of his machismo machinations as you rode his determinism.
Sol
His exotic lightning vaunts in the celestial canopy. The blood of new world wizardry, he seduces from the apex axis of his citadel pinnacle. His warrior heights ooze with the psychic clarity of zoomorphic demagoguery’s rebellion and make the knight groan with exigency. The weight of his words, the upward convection of their accessional draws sweat and *** from your extant. He can sense your arousal from miles away and seduces your mind like a torrential deluge.
Richthofen
He is manumission, no more the faded vision of body incarnates ghosts. He writes of the enrapturing mesmeric-ness of its inebriation to tantalize his wanton decadent blatancy’s flagrant. Impetus intrigue and intuitional verve become sensual currency. He’s the lounging lion, the puissant God, the edifice ******** of pornographic wit. The incongruous incognito with no moniker. Seduced by your poet he would romance the *** out of you and leave you enraptured with your own anonymity at the edge of the new world freeway.
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 11:40 AM UTC
It’s like looking in a mirror
Looking at you
An image of a soul
A little bruised and slightly broken
Masking the shambled past
With lines to a song, cigarette smoke
And the Rebel Yell Lingering on your breath
If you drink enough your numb
If you cant feel anything
Then nothing hurts
Those scares on your knees and hands
They are the failed attempts of the world
To push you down
But determinism flows freely through you
Proving everyone wrong who gets in your way
A rough tough and wild outside
With a soft personal inside
Yes this image terrifies me
Yes this image makes me want to run
It makes me want to run to everywhere you are
Because this soul image is my insatiable desire
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
young for a mother she takes daily photos of gravestones she will not develop. her aside that they are better than children is locally famous. I begin to want her in a way I can put my finger on. my brother dies and I wait. the funeral is boys only. I rip off the arms of an old monkey.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 3:10 PM UTC
You (I) can feel
The Waiting.
Did I hear It
Because she said It?
Or did my tired heart's armour
*****
so fear could sing?
What can change an evil mind?
Loyalty? I think not.
That subtle persuasion of fear
Writes Determinism on a Tissue.
I control my own actions...
But Realities layer themselves
Onto my tired
heart
And I find myself submitting
Be (cause) control
Is an (in)sane asylum.
So wink.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 10:53 AM UTC
Reluctant to be
What's most innate.
Like a dandelion afraid
To be swept away.
An advocate of
The probabilistic
Indulging in
Pre-determinism.
Split...
Going nowhere.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 10:00 AM UTC