"disequilibrium" poems
"the pen is mightier than the sword"
but "actions speak louder than words
I tried "beating around the bush"
even though my hands held two birds
i've played "the devil's advocate"
and i tried "sitting on the fence"
heard it "straight from the horse's mouth"
the horse made "horse sense"
i'm "letting the cat out of the bag"
i can't "let sleeping dogs lie"
you "barked up the wrong tree"
we will never see "eye to eye"
is there "a method to my madness"?
"your guess is as good as mine"
i'm listening to "the voice of reason"
the one "i heard through the grape vine"
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 3:55 PM UTC
there is not just two sides to a coin
there is a front and a back(heads and tails)
then there is the outside circumference...
it circles the other two sides
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
" i slept like a baby"
when someone says this, i picture them peeing and pooping, and crying all night
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
From over the bridge
the sky curved into the river
and the winds from the distant hills
carved a smile on his face.
So here he was, at last, all by himself
played upon by a feeling
of being not shadowed anymore
but by the one his very own.
light as the bird, came to his mind,
and making sure no one was around,
he spoke aloud
I'm light as the bird.
Yet a shadow was preying upon him,
an unease, a discomfort, a disequilibrium,
as he heard within, his son saying,
*Baba, you need to take a break,
to be with yourself, to be away from us,
to soothe the frayed nerves..*
So I have been set free, he thought,
but are the birds really as free
as they appear to be?
So here he was, but his mind was drifting,
and he was calculating like a child.
*how many feet below is the river,
would the fall hurt, or would one have to wait,
for the impact with the rushing surface
before the final touch by the boulders?*
I shouldn't be perilously close, he stepped back,
muttering three incoherent words..
components of love.
Back to the Rest House,
he was packing his bag.
He was not sure, if his reappearance,
at so short a notice,
would at all be, a pleasant surprise.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 10:35 AM UTC
Mao Zedong’s revolution deposed the ancient, 5000 year old rule of Dynastic China.
In doing so he espoused the continuous violent struggle by contradictory forces within society to produce a perpetual disequilibrium of revolt against intellectualism and Confucian principle and practice.
With the global collapse of Communistic systems, the wily genius of the diminutive, Deng Xiaoping, breathed new life into the faltering rule
With a cunning rebranding of “Socialism with Chinese Characteristics”, he maintained the stability of Chinese Communist kleptocracy until relatively recent times.
But the middle class awakening of Tiananmen Square and the recent Hong Kong massed protest, has brought into focus the demands of an increasingly educated, increasingly affluent, Chinese society’s expectation and demand for increased democratic rights and freedom and a more just system of the Rule of Law.
The day of the old, strong arm, autocratic rule is over.
China is emerging, quite naturally, into a world of increased information freedom, where the seeking of each individual’s betterment and independence promises a brighter future of personal dignity, increased self-esteem and an emerging sense of high anticipation.
President Xi Jinping’s Chinese Communist Party is now presented with the challenge to moderate in order to survive. To endeavour to embrace and meld the old concepts of Confucian harmony to the vaulting expectations of China’s new world beckoning.
M.
Denmark, Western Australia.
5 October 2014
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 3:57 PM UTC
skip it across the water that they're treading.
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
one more for Pradip...
"Poems...are never short or long, they're only more. Thanks Nat for ever filling the less."
firing up the poem kiln,
this intriguing provocation
insistent of deserved consideration,
after all,
it is thy stories that these days inspire,
my own stories are relentless
grey, old, cold, and to my eyes,
coded repetitious...
neither a chaster or a chastiser,
(You could look it up!)
confessing readily to sinning against humanity
by ecrivezing poems of length considerable,
the Mexicano from Indiano
releases a shotgun blast
to all those whose attention spans last,
to ten words or a single stanza...no more...
but this not the matter of import,
no, no, it is the
more and the less
that makes poetry the best,
no matter the length or the heft...
in each of us
there is a more and a less,
in cycles individual that are not bound to
tides, weather, or any effect natural,
but product of our own amber waves
of chemical imbalances and mental auras...
all my days have I rode waves of
well hid hills of mania *** depression,
contented moments surrounded and cosseted
by wails of worry, sorrel colored sorrows,
making the scientists amazed at the correlation
of the macro and the mini,
the precision of my indecision...
in sixty seconds, in sixty days, in sixty years,
have I battered and battled the disequilibrium
of more and less,
disallowing a pilloried intervention,
will likely do so until
that day when my pen
has bled its last...
this theme haunts,
for but a day ago,
a bus poem was blurted out,
that concluded thusly:
***to survive,
to justify,
to mediate
between these un-counterbalanced weights,
I write poetry***
here I am stunned that Pradip
with but a handful of seeds,
exactly isolates the genetic implanted notion
that I struggle to define,
knowing only that my poetry fills my less,
when the all the rest is just
another fine mess
we fill the less with our wit,
we top off our souls with writs,
we are more for having scribed,
one read or ten thousand,
it mater matters knot!
look upon the pages endlessly bearing
the ephemeral heavy-handed weight full of well crafted words,
the good, the plenty,
the sad, the sorry,
the trite and cranky,
those misted musty,
the light and the careful,
the bad and merely awful,
even the drip of torrential love stories gone dry
what matters not
any of this over sighted analytics,
each and all and everyone
a success,
for each poem makes someone's less lessened,
and someone's more, more,
and by this
ever filling the less...
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 3:35 PM UTC
To do to one is to do to another
Therefore ,
To comfort one is to comfort another
To care of to one is to care to another
Therefore ,
To put one down is to put down another
To abandon one is to abandon another
'Tis how the world works
A Flawed masterpiece
A tender executioner
Like the finest love on concrete
Soft as children's laughter , though as savage as a man-eater
What is the truth
What is the truth she seeks ?
But she wished for equilibrium , a scale in balance
And she has received disequilibrium , a scale unbalanced
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 5:49 PM UTC
I. Physiological
If you were air, I would gladly take you in,
fill my lungs with every particle that is you.
You’ve been a significant part of me
that taking you away
would cause so much distress,
would wreak instability—
disequilibrium.
II. Safety
When you enclose me in your arms,
pay attention to the things I say,
fill every inch of me with kisses,
smile at me reassuringly,
that’s when I know I’m safe—
that I’m secured,
that I’m home.
III. Love or Belonging
I like the idea of us
having the same wavelength:
our interests go in the same direction,
and sometimes go their separate ways;
but at some point, would intersect beautifully.
IV. Esteem
I used to think less of myself—
always not good enough,
almost there but not really.
I never really thought I mattered
until you showed me…
V. Self-Actualization
It would be pretentious if I told you that
I am a self-actualized person now;
but with you, I’ve come to terms with my demons.
And in you, I found joy and fulfillment.
I love you.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC
cerebral diarrhea
versus verborrhea
unpunctuated disequilibrium
generates opprobrium
unfree verse
fettered or worse
verbal *****
bomb it.
confessional purgings
depressional urgings
emo-bingeing over unrequited love
makes this poet go off / out / above
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 1:08 PM UTC
I've stopped trying to see the logic in any of this
What logic is there in looping a reel of moments so devastating I have to literally shake my head
(As if the attempt at giving myself a mild concussion will rid me of your visage?)
I can't escape. My only solace is between another's legs.
My longing for your skin is matched only by my desire to **** something beautiful just to get you out of my head.
Is it wrong that I feel this disequilibrium otherwise?
Something just feels constantly off.
I can feel it in my bones
Like a storm you anticipate
But all you sense is discomforting quiet
I was never the sort to waste energy on hopeless things, until I became one,
Until I realized that I no longer remember feeling satisfied on my own
I'm a prisoner in my own head
A hostage to a heart run amok
And I just wish I knew
How to break free
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 8:10 PM UTC
bird on the wing
perched in the sun begins to sing
bunny on the hop
mistaken
substitute
hubris
while mistreating others we elevate ourselves
the science behind personality testing
the theory of motivation
the fact that a certain trend will occur to satisfy a need
behavior is driven by an internal state of disequilibrium
this lack of balance is the source of all conflict, large and small
achievement, power, affiliation and intimacy
are described as secondary needs
and our personal reaction to these states
determines our personalities
when you pass a person on the street
remember to pay attention to the fact
that they are filled with desires to fill their secondary needs
the gaps add up to the person
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 12:01 PM UTC
Brainstorm cometh, damning frontal hemisphere
jamming lookout, noggin perched, roiling thinking
uber wayfaring zealot, drills legendary phalanx.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Writer's block afflicts Das scribe,
who **** now stricken supine
adept dull livery sub par excellence
his gold standard worse
thus, another day
to slog thru arduous process
crafting admirable verse
wrestling behemoth loosed ******
dodging enfilade broadcast sos terse.
N'er easy chore to fashion
acceptable word worth poem to whit
staring at flickering
accursed cursor doth blank stare visit
flash flooding warning saturated
gray matter fist sized unit
groundswell burgeoning leveed banks
barging signals transmit
urgent army corps of engineers
to reroute via sluice, sans surfeit
apprentice longshoreman
doth double duty
as grammarian sought to retrofit
arduous struggle ensues, where drowning
affects consummation
strong temptation quit
ditch ching progress made,
thus far in hot pursuit
mind comfortably numb
stream of consciousness
submerges concentration
entrenched deep posit
craftiness sentenced to punctuate
disequilibrium doth outwit
venerably beaded trademark
Scottish matted flair
abandoned unfinished poem
left forever stranded orbit
zero escape velocity
zinging, unsprung,
pinging mindscape nonprofit
able endeavor reflecting zeitgeist
bombarding Messerschmitt
undermining, strafing, disabling
cutting crew rescue outer limit
faint feint blinking in the twilight zone.
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 6:28 PM UTC
The way you
fed on my insecurities
like a hematophage
caused a disequilibrium
that could never be erased.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
I feel as though I comprehend language more than the act of communication itself
I can recite definition and etymology
Spell it out loud for you
But understanding of language is no substitute for understanding of the other, to truly convey meaning
And oh, I crave to communicate but all I do is speak
in my fight or flight of thought, deconstructing and analysing
Oh do I crave to be understood
clanging against disequilibrium,
Oh do I throw myself at the door and ****** my fists beating at it
Oh do I scream and rip the handle clean off
Oh do I cry and wish good wombs had borne better sons
Oh I set the whole world on fire for its sins and seek forgiveness of mine
But I am unable to reach through the barrier
I cannot touch or be touched with words the way human beings do
I have miscomprehended everything all along
And as much as I crave a saviour I have made peace
That nobody will ever know me
and that my words are all I have
echolaliac epileptic, easily defined by clinical terminology
my body is cumbersome though my skin is thin
the isolation disorder is double consciousness, watching through my own eyes,
it is out of body and it is lonely
(as am I)
Jan 29, 2020
Jan 29, 2020 at 4:54 PM UTC
The weather is calm,
the breeze, cold and soothing.
I do not flow with it though,
my head feels heavy, the grey blobs,
clouds appear to be near ,
hovering just over my head
the occasional drizzles feel
like the tears.
My pen ceases to write,
leaving blots of ink
smudged on the paper.
As if saying enough written,
enough said.
A wry smile caresses my lips
and melancholy stroke my eyes
this sensitive balance of contrasting emotions
is playing the strings of disequilibrium in my
HEART.
SYMPTOMS of missing you perhaps.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 9:25 AM UTC
Is that your friend or a snake in disguise,
If that person gives a advice that will lead to your demise.
Just some questions?
Snakes in the grass,
The only why to see them,
Is to lawnmower the grass...
Since young even now I still dream of being rich,
I'm on the road to the rich side,
How can you blame a black man, who works for fiends,
By serving them, doing the ***** jobs,
How can you blame a black man that never had things???...
There are only two ways...
The good news is you on your way to the rich side,
The bad news is you on the wrong way of the side,
I personally think being poor is better.
The only thing that a male wants,
Is a Rolex or AP so he can flex with his left rist,
Can never compare to someone,
Because we all disequilibrium.
All blessed but people thinking the blessing is not enough,
Always gonna be a shoe that's better than yours,
Always gonna be an apartment that better than yours,
The struggle contains beauty and all types of happiness.
I think being poor is better.
Live your life to it's betterest level,
Always esteem yours...
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 3:58 PM UTC
The peace of perfect indifference: Que sera sera
The song goes but is it even possible to attain
No less maintain. is it not likely that someday
What will will be a disequilibrium that is anti-
Thetical to all that is dispassionate to the
Peaceful disposition. Is there nothing so out-
Rageous as to be unacceptable; that no easy
Philosophy can encompass? What then?
To which I say; This too shall pass; hope
But the point penetrates, the wound is deep
A scream of terror ensues; Then what?
Doom, Doom Doom till at last there is a
Silence, a holy silence that still I can hear.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 9:48 AM UTC