"diogenes" poems
Around the Time when the Drinkers come out
And the homeless start setting up their cardboard for night
When kids talk loudly on the train going for parties
And the rest just Grim and Bear the commute home
All the Soldiers and the Workers of the Ant Farm go to the holes growing mold
Unseen but necessary for the Queen
Those throng and quiet desperation lives
Of plain gum Globules on pavement
A sigh
And a downward glance
With the slight smell of Chinese food
Such is modernity…
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
Diogenes has traded
philosophy for riches
and poor Diogenes must beg -
for neither does he want to belong
to any organisation
and so Diogenes begs
and this man in the street
says to the begging Diogenes:
*"OK, I'll give you money
if you can persuade me"*
"Persuade you?" says Diogenes
*"If I could persuade you
I'd persuade you to go
jump off the nearest cliff"*
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 6:40 PM UTC
You see Diogenes living in the slums. He lives in a barrel. This is the man even Alexander the Great admires. So it makes you wonder about Diogenes.
So you pretend to be there quite by accident and you ask: “Diogenes…Who was your teacher?”
“A mouse was my teacher,” says Diogenes.
You are quite confused. And you say: "A mouse is your teacher? And how is that, Diogenes? "
“Well, most exquisite Sir,” says Diogenes to you. “Most cultured Sir,” he says. “I had no home and I was in the streets. I almost killed myself. Then I saw mouse. Mouse ran around and looked for food and it found some and I observed mouse for over two days. And I realized how resourceful mouse was. And then I said to myself: ‘Learn of the mouse, Diogenes- and all will be well.’ And so I learned of mouse. And every time I have a problem, I simply ask myself: ‘How will mouse solve this?’ And so mouse became my teacher. And now, most Exquisite Sir, I have a problem. You. I want to get rid of you and I ask myself: ‘How would mouse solve this problem?’ He would bite…”
You listen to this and you are afraid – and you run. And Diogenes has done well; he has learned well from his teacher. And you can hear him shouting to you: “By the way, who was your teacher?”
Oct 7, 2010
Oct 7, 2010 at 7:05 PM UTC
"Do you notice,"
says a passer-by
to the begging Diogenes,
*"that people rather offer alms
to the lame, blind and maimed?
They do not offer alms
to a philosopher like you.
Why is it that you think?"*
"That's because,"
says Diogenes
*"people think one day
they too might become lame, blind or maimed -
but they never think they'd
ever turn to philosophy
So they ignore me..."*
May 29, 2012
May 29, 2012 at 6:15 PM UTC
there's no point writing out what poetry is... if you don't actually write it.
a whiskey prior noon,
too soon, too soon,
too soon?
i'll be cooking a turkey curry later,
a whiskey prior noon,
too soon, too soon,
too soon?!
rhyme or rhythmic, perhaps the latter
in Dante's trinity of rhymes -
poetry of the near-illiterate,
who never read as much as could
have been -
thinking it out as origin and originals -
a man without influence is
not worth reciting -
he'll still have to borrow
the life of a Henry VIII somehow,
whether he has or hasn't read a book
concerning the man -
while the Vatican emerges as the gossip
library of all the European royal families,
and indeed Henry VIII dubbed
Anne Boleyn's cow dangler *******
duckies - i think it's due to the fact
he quacked while he suckled the *******
like a pre-mature **** not producing ***** -
seriously, no milk;
and as honesty goes, ********** literature
does it for me, patron saint kenneth rexroth -
self-education moulds the self into a
pristine sequence of surprises -
there the pop of a balloon,
there the weeping clown...
there the giraffe on stilts!
indeed even at university entry point
where i deposited my self
i came back with debts!
idiotic treachery of teaching the politicised
version of language,
as language per se simply called grammatically
sound, in politics simply versed "correct";
two satans from Syria while Solomon
had his harem,
a third from Poland,
they say the holocaust,
6 million if not more citizens of the world
with polish passports - mind you
they took the Diogenes quote
into left and right parallel readied for a march -
Apollo listened then laughed at
the failures counting to 13 - laughing
while the words 'too the moon!' were eased
out from his helium filled lungs.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 6:11 AM UTC
I SAW a telegram handed a two hundred pound man at a desk. And the little scrap of paper charged the air like a set of crystals in a chemist's tube to a whispering pinch of salt.
Cross my heart, the two hundred pound man had just cracked a joke about a new hat he got his wife, when the messenger boy slipped in and asked him to sign. He gave the boy a nickel, tore the envelope and read.
Then he yelled "Good God," jumped for his hat and raincoat, ran for the elevator and took a taxi to a railroad depot.
As I say, it was like a set of crystals in a chemist's tube and a whispering pinch of salt.
I wonder what Diogenes who lived in a tub in the sun would have commented on the affair.
I know a shoemaker who works in a cellar slamming half-soles onto shoes, and when I told him, he said: "I pay my bills, I love my wife, and I am not afraid of anybody."
2.2k
And Diogenes is an outcast
not wanted by society;
his mind is way too far
and he doesn't belong -
and where does he come from, anyway?
and they don't want teachers like that;
and the men and women of Dignity
have made sure he stands at the periphery,
as far outside as possible
*'O why do you beg,
Diogenes?'*
asks the butcher
*'I'm a teacher,
Old Butcher, '*
says Diogenes
*'I beg in order
to teach'*
*'And what
do you teach?'*
asks the butcher
'Generosity,'
answers Diogenes
*'Do you have some bones
and meat you can spare?'*
May 25, 2012
May 25, 2012 at 7:15 AM UTC
And Diogenes is in his corner
and this young man
new Philosophy Graduate
of the Academy comes up to him
and sits beside him on the steps
of Raphael's School of Athens
and the young man says to Diogenes:
*'There is no such thing as motion, Diogenes.
I shall prove to you through complex philosophy.'*
And Diogenes gets up
and he walks away from
the School of Athens
and he goes to his tub
at the end of the marketplace
May 25, 2012
May 25, 2012 at 7:05 AM UTC
Somewhere in all our minds,
At the end of a mile long staircase,
full of trips and hazards,
is a thirsty dog.
And I know he bit your wrists, boy,
but he only did it to lead you away
from the monsters on the landing,
From the growing growling,
Snapping and snarling,
So consider your stigmata,
dogmatic,
because holy or otherwise,
its easy to wonder why
old ghosts dont die,
when you wont let them rest.
So let him *****
your furniture,
he's wet from pulling you a shore.
For some,
treading water is the same as drowning.
And when you're taking on water,
All you can do is keep on paddling.
Its been sink or sin for a while now.
So keep an eye out for the light house,
because it's hard to see the friendly faces
In a sea of smiling sharks.
They circle in a pit of
unrequited doves,
bad choices,
terrible clichés,
and tenuous extended metaphors.
It doesn't matter though.
The defenders of Diogenes,
and his lonely bathtub,
were won over long ago,
when we were 'more' than
the some of our hearts,
all spring and itch,
getting started on the road.
So cast away the stop sign,
drink deep and celebrate,
the Doghouse is a good place to be,
but there's monsters on the landing.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 4:27 PM UTC
Do my eyes fail me?
Is the light of the sun useless?
for though in daylight I have walked abroad
from the confined barrel I live in
away from the rats
away a while from the stray dogs
that congregate outside my hovel
that want a bit of my sack of carrots
and discarded meat
that I picked up from the market;
and though I walked often with firm steps and keen eyes
I did not see a man, a woman, a human worth their salt;
and so I walk now
(for perhaps my eyes do fail me
and the light of the sun and moon is perhaps an illusion)
and so I walk now with a lantern even in broad daylight
and still I do not see a man, a woman, a human worth their salt;
what I see are swirls of violence and greed and pettiness
and whorls of self-preoccupation and bigotry and ignorance
and narrowness
all encased in flesh and bones:
leave me Sirs and sweet-dressed and made-up Ladies
and Children corrupt in the World of Adult Fanfare;
leave me and let me go on my quest further afield
as far as the lantern will allow me
even in this bright day ruled by the sun
and ruined by you Sneering Living Beings;
leave me to wander as far to see if I cannot perhaps find a human
in some corner….a surprise as one might find
a gold coin in some dark corner….
And I so hope that today perhaps I shall find
the human this bright day
by the light of this lantern
and not like yesterday and all days before
search in vain till the lantern light dies
and crawl back to my hovel
not finding one free of these or at least sincere,
and so worthy of the name of human…
Oct 2, 2010
Oct 2, 2010 at 10:41 AM UTC
There is a road
a narrow path
with darkness ahead
darkness behind
flashing memories disappearing
neon traces trailing.
The seekers of wisdom
a flash light in hand
darkness ahead
a Diogenes searching
for
wisdom and a wise one
knowing
this way lies madness
that way lives love.
Behind is birth
Ahead is death.
Pitfalls
Skyways
through the sinkholes
the marshes
deserts
the mountains
the ocean too.
Periods of walking alone
Periods of walking with you
Blindness fills our eyes
the dark it is
always all encompassing
as we feel our way along.
But you are the light
your life is that
small shinning
flash light
illuminating
each moment
of our searching lives...
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 11:19 AM UTC
Diogenes is walking past
the crowds and the stalls
in the market
the butcher has caught a man
stealing meat
'Oh,' says the thief
*'It's my fate to steal -
do not punish me! '*
'Oh,' says Diogenes,
*'if it's your fate to steal
then it's your fate to be beaten!'*
And Diogenes beats him
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 2:50 AM UTC
Diogenes is in his tub
in the street corner
and a servant of
The House of Vines
comes to him
'My Master,' says the servant
*'bids you, Diogenes, dine with him
this Saturday night'*
'I will not dine with him,'
says Diogenes
'Tell your Master so'
'And why is that?'
asks the servant
'My Master will want to know'
'Tell him,' says Diogenes
crawling back into his tub
*'The last time I dined with him
in his house
he did not express proper gratitude'*
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 6:46 AM UTC
Carrying a lamp;
seeking other wanderers
lost in quests for truth.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 2:15 PM UTC
ˇ
***I - Diogenes!
Son of suns - I love the Sun's
Impeccable Space***
ˇ
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
Feeling like Diogenes,
exhausted from extensively searching for an honest man,
a Cynic Philosopher,
with an astonishment for that which is the common man,
which has him hiding way all disgruntled and,
trying to find a way to rewrite regrets and make amends,
by writing amends,
because I’m not fooled by the Commoners sins,
see the opulence on display doesn’t fool me a bit,
opulence is actually a not so thinly disguised belligerence,
actually opulence is belligerence,
most modern day luxuries are all worthless,
most people are too thick to admit this,
but we all know there may not be a higher purpose,
luckily the lethargics are too lazy for skullduggery,
that’s why to this literature I’m in service,
only two I’m loyal to are Legits an literature,
because honestly I don’t feel anyone else deserves bliss,
especially when all these luxuries are actually worthless,
while poems are praised and paintings are appraised priceless,
and when I receive acclaim and praise for these verses,
I often get awkwardly shy & don't reply because I don’t think I’m worth it,
makes me want to flee and retreat to the words,
or go live in a barrel like Diogenes,
because we all die that can’t be denied,
but we don’t all really live life let God be my witness,
we all die,
but we all don’t live again,
though from what I write,
I live forever through this pen,
and until then I will ponder,
as I wander in wonder on the streets I am in,
searching likely fruitlessly,
for that mythical creature, The Honest Man.
∆ LaLux ∆
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Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 4:33 PM UTC
See, Diogenes is in the market
It is busy, crowded
usual Sunday crowd
busy, busy at the market;
some come to buy meat
and some to pick pockets
and some to ogle
see - suddenly Diogenes
jumps into the crowd
and he shouts:
*"Men! Men! Quick - quick!
We need some help!"*
And 6 men jump forward
to help, 6 sturdy men
all strong, eager and ready
and Diogenes spits in their faces
spits as quickly as he can
and swiftly crouches as low as he can:
*"I asked for men!
Not scoundrels!"*
May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 6:51 PM UTC
*So what city do you belong to,
to what tribe, to what ethos and religion -
to what state, Diogenes?*
I have none
and so I am free -
but if you must have a label
to understand me
you might say: cosmopolites
…but beware of labels…
May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 6:48 PM UTC
And they asked Diogenes
how he'd like to be buried
and he said: *'Just scatter my parts
well outside the City'*
'But, Diogenes,
then the wild creatures
will get to the parts -
you don't mind being eaten
up by the creatures? '
*'Oh, I hadn't considered that -
just provide me with a staff then
with which I might chase away the creatures'*
'Oh, but Diogenes -
how will you do that when you are dead? '
*'Oh, I hadn't considered that…
Well then, but why should I worry
what eats me after I'm dead? '*
May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 6:08 AM UTC
*'Say Diogenes,
how is a Wise One
to be known?
Can you tell me
how a Wise One
might look like?'*
Diogenes looks skyward,
strikes a pose
and strokes his beard
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 2:53 AM UTC
A man comes
from the next city
seeking Diogenes
*'O Diogenes,
I have come in search
Of wisdom…
Can you write me a Book
and give that to me
so that I can cherish wisdom
all my life?'*
'You fool!' says Diogenes
*'If you were hungry
you would not eat the painting
of a meal but the food itself -
and yet you seek the Book
but not the wisdom…
Discard the Book;
see the truth!'*
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 6:29 PM UTC
this is my star, david can have his, this is my claim over anything of this world, a little spice, hardly a castle, or an empire, a harem or millions in the bank account; a private education or ancestry stretching back to the crusades in up-kept and tidy memory like some duke of Burgundy.
only today did i discover bohemian Istanbul
sitting in a kitchen cabinet next to
a bottle of extra-virgin olive oil...
barely drank... not to the palette of some,
anise, hardy recognisable in curries,
but infuse it with alcohol and the story changes,
Europe and the long lost history of
the Ottomans, and indeed the Turks,
Muslim, steppe people, and therefore drinking
people. bahramji & mashti playing
in the background, a shisha pipe in my hand
(portable)... and today's discovery... white
absinthe! the moment i realised, i was squeezing
lemon juice into the glass... and to my idiotic
amazement the potion started turning milky...
just like Hapsburg absinthe (98%, £40 a pop)
or la Fé(e)... oddly enough not all absinthes turn
milky if diluted with water... for example
Czech red and Czech blue and even green don't
turn milky... because the Czechs drink it like
***** in shots... unlike the other versions where
you take the sloth route and prolong the feeling
of the warming anise... that's because they contain
worm-wood. but this Turkish absinthe, i'm amazed!
small world in terms of bumping into people,
but an even smaller world to discover different
cultures in your vicinity... i should have come
across what i'm drinking sooner (it's called Rakı),
but since it's not mine i will not over-indulge even
though i know the owners of the bottle do not
appreciate anise on their palette, unlike
what diogenes the cynic said:
i like best the wine drunk at the cost of others;
me? i indulge in what i buy, because i own it,
as i can't over-indulge the company of others.
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 4:07 PM UTC
studying a life-sized portrait
of Diogenes. holding a lantern. looking
for one honest man. surrounded by cows.
a horse.
a porcine drunk. a kid thumbing his nose.
the museum was closing in five minutes.
a shame.
because i had just arrived. (a strange statement.
"just arrived".)
a woman suddenly appeared. desperate
to look familiar. (black mascara. trench coat.
could have been a Russian spy.)
the light from Diogenes’ lantern
was touching her face.
illuminating her earrings.
something magnetic stood between us.
if she had burst
into song i would have melted.
“do you like dogs?”
her voice sounded like ice crystals
teasing a dark window.
(who doesn’t like dogs?)
Diogenes
was laughing. i could hear him
from across the canvass.
he knew
a good joke when he saw one coming.
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 10:02 PM UTC