"dualities" poems
Life comes in waves,
Dualities, defined as;
Good and bad, happy and sad.
Blur the definitions,
Blur your perspective.
We learn through change,
We grow through pain.
Everything is as it should be,
Always, infinitely.
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 8:10 PM UTC
my polygamous relationship with you distances me from the monotony of monogamy and makes me feel lonelier than the loneliest mundane monogamist. my mere apologies for my misendeavors, the malnutritious morals of my miseducation propose metal mirrors and castaways controlled by cutting carvers, craving crazy letters and loyalty from lengthy lies and lonely lives. lethargy overtakes and vowels reign, raining drops like rainbows and rocks in rivers, rusting relationships, rusty railroads at intense intersections entwined in everything inside and nothing on the outside anymore except these
muscles. we are back at the beginning.
my mind marvels in the magic of the memories, the madness of the morbidity and the hesitations of your reaction. his, I take, is misunderstood as my misfortune, but it is not a miss, my fortune: it is a fox in feathers colorful like friendships 'fore their forfeited and feigned approval, forced for fear of polygamy tho' it promises the purest pleasure, the most personal independence and precious pearls of princes, princesses, powerful, plight-less
poetry. peace surrenders,
souls surprise themselves, surprise their cells, call for curious catastrophes to take place. colorful and calm they coincide with cooperation that can not contain the context of truth, of teases, of teasers and targets and tonal dualities and we endeavor, we endear you, we dare destroy the darkness of the devil in its disguised diamonds.
words lie at my feet like pebbles of poetry and I promise personal demise, deterioration and ridiculous obsessions- there's madness to be had and fragments to be written and I play with silly alliteration instead!
serious and serene you stare as if my sanity has slowly faded and I sternly helplessly smile shyly. I suppose you are sincerely offering me your blessing before parting, so stumbling slightly I surrender…
if this is the prevailing promise of mere mortality, I'm graciously aware I was worthy of words.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
I think I've always been alone . . .
At least, as long as I can remember.
But there's a part of me,
that still feels so connected --
To something near the source,
At the core of somewhere true.
Where we exist without our existence's limitations.
Where duality, begins to mean overlap,
And both fiction and fact,
One and yet another,
Things like "this" and "that"
Are the same, still . . .
Innocently unseparated,
In this place near to creation.
Maybe it's just my brain . . .
I do have a habit of creating dualities.
"Together, or apart? No," I think.
More like doubting infallibility.
--------------------------
So when I say I've always been alone,
I have to ask myself:
"Have you really?"
"*Of course you haven't been.
But who you are right now,
is no longer that you . . .
At least . . . not fully*."
"*So, if I was alone then,
Does that mean that I
might not be any longer?*"
"Oh, no."
I explained back to myself,
"*I think you misunderstood me.
It's just . . .
That you'll never truly know,
Until there's nothing and nobody*."
--------------------------
That's a haunting truth to tell yourself,
When you're off in your own head.
At least I won't be alone in my regret,
When I'm among the dead.
I'll find community in that.
Surely, that's the place to which I feel so connected!
The place where maybe two of myself is enough
to make just one of me feel,
Like I'm worth something more, than more or less,
In a place that's neither there, nor here . . .
At least, there, if I don't feel connected,
To myself, I may feel near.
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 2:20 AM UTC
Save My Soul, (But First), Rub My Feet
thus a poem auditorialy conceived,
but!
the sexuality of the deceiving dualities,
irritates erogenous, exogenous perceptiveties,
plethora of intensifying variables, a not-serious,
harmless remark yet bring us to myriad of
marauding reversals, add-venturing into harm’s way…
much to discuss, but this
topic bettered by much
trading of traditional bantering
brevity bettering our wordless battering
insinuating, sensational signals bring
us backwards & forwards
to an exploratorium of wide boulevards
back to new unfamiliar venues,
narrowing alleyways & places we were before,
places before we were before where,
no unnecessary commas to separate,
distingué, distinct
tween the instinct of old and new,
an uncommon commonality experiential revisionism
now I understand what you said to me,
a tenderizing of
the sole synapses directing
the brain, the old ooh ‘s, aah’s
reigniting what what lay dormant,
at long last,
by opening doors to alternations,
ven diagram of digressing yet intersecting
old & new pathways,
from the souls of her feet,
to, too, two,
we become diamond
on souls of our heat
May 30, 2023
May 30, 2023 at 4:50 PM UTC
Gently close the door before
Running away from the sangha of the gongs,
Running to the sangha of the forest.
Dualities, so extreme,
Oneness, so infinite.
I step more patiently now,
With the same wonder,
But with increased senses.
The senses feast on stimuli.
The senses fast on deprivation.
Yes the green is greener.
I return to the chakras,
The protection of the fox,
The fuzzy comfort of soft things.
To hear music, to bake bread,
To feel touch.
Now our distance is greater,
And it creates closeness.
Now the sadness of spaces
Creates refreshed longing.
I smile at the mystical and curious
May Apple Retreats.
The Big Tree, the threshold.
The portal, welcomes me,
Shelters me.
Practices breathing fully,
Proclaiming:
“LIVE LIFE,
LIVE LIFE”
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC
I can't listen to
Heartbreak music
This one can't do
Hadn't got to use it
Now I'm twenty two
DO NOT LOSE IT
A short expression of my heaviest burden
First impressions, barely got a word in
Last impressions before you'd chosen him
Was we could be thorns on God's roses
Cause we would never part like Moses
Revelations
The story of my life
A book of my lies
But what is life without love
But death in disguise
If I die with our love
We can sing in blue skies
Daydreams while I'm awake
Remember all I want is fake
No closer do we quake
Than the sun and moon
The beauty he can never take
Wrestling dualities
Welcoming reality
Unfortunately
-Luca Ivaldi
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 5:07 AM UTC
The mirror's reflection looked away from me today.
She knew my secret and my shame...
Even now I thought I could hide it from her.
There are certain dualities to monogamous promises
Because emotions are never made just for one.
If I knew I would have loved him then I would have hated him first.
If I knew I would hurt him...then I would have killed him before I could.
I've traced all my steps back into a wall.
The path that was there before has been blocked by my own hand.
I built it with every lie and every truth about myself,
And yet I stand dumbfounded at the choice I am to make.
I'm panting and wild eyed for an escape
And my captors are threatening for an answer.
Both breathing fantasies and lives that I want to see
And all they get from me is a choke.
A stammer.
A stutter of a choice made but not thought through.
I give them both each hand to have but the joke is on me...
Basic anatomy only gave me one heart.
And them as well.
They both gave theirs to me and now I'm overly supplied
And worrying over them spoiling if I leave them out too long.
Then I think to myself of a prose well said,
"Get thee to a nunnery."
And like a coward, I flee.
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 12:45 PM UTC
I want
a quiet mind.
A slice of space time
carved out, specifically mine.
I lost and found fullness in the void.
The promise of isolated existence,
of a transcendent world where I forget.
Of matter absorbing, swallowing, expanding and
delivering me the gift of nothing and something
together, motionless silenced in a simultaneous moment of
hush.
Still, the universe goes ever on and on.
There is power in the invisible.
The interlocking dualities of push and pull
only felt and shared, not seen.
There are forces binding us in the black abyss
which separate and join in tense dances
through made-up minutes which bend endlessly.
What is real?
Is a vacuum really empty?
I find comfort in the nothing,
that is also everything.
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 10:58 PM UTC
Most cringe at the fringes of reality, mind-splitting dualities
tear apart what's known, but its a start to grow, a seeker, a
keeper of secrets you have grown to be, yearning to be free by
learning what has to be, but you dare not to care, to show the
divine glow, hiding by gliding behind the shadows, and now
twisted wits slit your mental capacity fastening locks that
casually create apathy, now callously you afflict, lifting veils
that trick, gifting secrets by sifting through weakness,
designating your self a genius, resignating your true gist with
lists of accomplishments that compliment your ego, letting go of
your whole creating a hole that needlessly creates your
deviousness of pure meanness that's created quite an inconvenience
to a once great friendship.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 3:06 PM UTC
I once had a dream about what I would like to be
but the dream's still being realized in life to see.
To date I now find myself having a poet's brain
and a passenger traveling in an outbound train.
The carriage I occupy is starting to break down
and I wonder how much longer it will be around.
Though it's better to always keep a positive mind
and not let the devil of despair to rob you blind.
The life we're all living now is just another dream
of that Infinite Existence in the flowing stream
of Its own imagination which has no real end
apart from the limiting state we all try to rend.
Only a few ever come to know about this game
that is played out within a holographic like frame
which includes all dualities of form and substance
created to express Its own boundless abundance.
The illusion's needless to say so very well done
that we are all caught up in it and try to have fun;
going from one extreme to another as we live
in mastering the art of how to love and forgive.
__________________
Nov 11, 2023
Nov 11, 2023 at 11:41 PM UTC
Ubiquitously, ideas are conceived,
I wholly in you as you are in me,
This father tells his son with certainty.
Escape, we cannot, this universal reality.
Right or wrong dualities, balance, not explained,
Its instability privately entertained,
The constance of truth’s demise.
Words, alone, cannot suffice
When clarity is shadowed by
Renown contrived lies.
Freedom relents,
Best wishes set forth, then go astray.
Evil dominates good’s intent,
When humanity ceases to speak, ignorance’s silence reigns.
Those chosen step forward alone, while the rest fade away
Into the dark truths, they’ve conveyed.
Their beliefs, a glowing flame’s frenzied trance,
Drawn to, the timorous souls, who’s to say,
For such admiration would not behoove to take the chance.
They desire to part from their union with despair,
Willing to let self-identity disappear.
Granted access into an incredible nothingness,
No need forever the seeking of more,
There to find, the new you, self assured.
Told, they are, others less fortunate cannot relate,
For they have not been chosen to reach this special state.
Foolishly they never ask why?
Those who have gone before them have yet to send back a sign.
How much you believed in them and they you,
Within the moment after, you knew,
All the words exchanged and trusted were falsely construed.
You’ve lost, yet have they won?
Who’s going to tell the truth to your four year old son?
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 11:30 AM UTC
When we enter this reality
Through the uncalled memory
Of our birth,
Crying with nonsense
To newly unveil senses.
The doctor readying his slap
To insure
You’re aware of the world.
The initial daybreak
Grasps with instinct
From the stem
Of our brain,
But we develop
Further in life learning
To walk, talk,
And even further
To tuck in that dress shirt,
All in all learning
The basic facets of living;
Only to further learn
That we cannot know everything
Undefined definite definition
A plotting knot of resolved fiction,
Dualities, influences, susceptibilities,
Insecurities, indecencies, and tendencies
In us all for us to see
And choose not to be.
The card game
Of social exposition
And inquisition
Learning to understand our face
And the people that we trace,
Forming, deforming, uniform
Difficulties
We stumble,
To return standing;
Challenges in holding hands
Returning affections, and mental afflictions
Gaining understanding
That we are being human beings
Refractive in and Reflective at seeing
Birth parallels death
No choice, versed vice
Falling and stumbling sadly
Last moments
Of our lives, begin
Talking gibberish,
Eating mush,
Having no memory
What happened yesterday?
While you lay in your crib
Asleep to a reality
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 12:16 PM UTC
I tend to forget to tend to my wounds, forever failure in focus
Self-improvement is out of scope.
You make me feel as if I should have succeeded, that the happiness came under false pretenses.
I tend to forget that laughter cannot be measured, neither the grounds on which they occur,
Nor the amount in which they are manifested.
All the happy times are irrelevant, because the ends don't justify the means.
I tend to forget that everyone, including the mentally disabled, desire to advertise their strength,
Their resolve in the face of the adversity between two people who
Claim to love each other, long after the love is gone.
I tend to forget that no one is as naive as either of us make them out to be, that none will
Absorb the previous problems at face value, and
That there are two sides to every coin, as all life suffers from the conflicts of dualities.
I tend to forget that your constant quest for social acceptance is what
Has made you a person uglier than you truly know.
I see through your act; an addiction to be validated, and your pretty portrayal to the spectators.
I tend to forget the analogies between dirt and flower, but no one stops to think that perhaps
The soil from which nature grows is more beautiful than what it blooms,
As it is the foundation, the core, the element, which is hidden from the pretension of the colorful.
I tend to forget how much I once desired to be the voice of reason, now the voice of rhyme.
Forever cursed to be well-versed in poetry. And I know the reason why,
It is just a hypothesis, but I truly feel that there is method to my madness.
I tend to forget the discipline involved in making dual voices similar, one in sound,
Other in beat. Like two hearts in conjoining cadence. Reason
Does not do it all justice. This is my way of making sense of it all.
I tend to forget that anything that grows together, flows together, such as the written words in verse.
The flowers may distance themselves from the dirt from which they arose,
I will remain below the sunlight, hidden in obscurity, watching the Heavens of your lies from the Hell of reality.
Mar 21, 2010
Mar 21, 2010 at 5:04 AM UTC
Painfully vain for such an insecure person
Dualities confliction keeps me on the bottom rung
A innocent convict, guilty victim type wrong
An unrecognizable cosmic size con
A blasphemous conviction
Obviously not the one to bet on
A hit and run rerun just begun
But what's done is done
Wake up with the next sun
But never ask to witness another one
©2023
Nov 17, 2023
Nov 17, 2023 at 2:56 PM UTC
What is wrong with me?
One moment everything is fine
Then I'm triggered and gone
As if it's always been this way.
Why can't I feel ok alone?
I know I'm good and enough
But when you're not here
I feel like I'm losing my mind.
Days pass on top of days
I can feel myself burning out
I need time with myself to recharge
But I have an insatiable ache for you.
I'm mad at myself for this
It's not your fault
But it'd be easier if it was
I wish I didn't need anyone else, but I do.
I never asked for this life
Everything is painful and I don't understand
How so many people just keep going
For as long as a lifetime.
Every connection feels life changing
Witnessing your humanity moves my soul
But is it real or just an illusion in my mind?
Do I see you or just a projection of me?
I want to cling and I want to run
I want to text you and to give you space
I want to say **** it all and I want to stay
So many dualities that I can't breathe.
I should be happy because things are fine
Nothing is inherently wrong
But I feel so unsettled and uncomfortable
Like nothing will ever be enough for me.
I just want to be ok
And I don't want to need anyone else
I have to learn to balance these issues
With the curse of my human condition.
May 14, 2022
May 14, 2022 at 5:11 AM UTC
If a poem or essay can end with a conclusion or its opposite, either one,
Can it be of any use to anyone?
Do the discrepancies and disparities, dualities and densities, reflect only
the dementia
Of the bearer of the pencil?
First entertain, then enlighten if you can. One stretches truth in order
to pretend,
Another leavens with levity one's inevitable end.
Most days it's not possible to bring your life into an expressible state.
Disparate hopes, arduous chores, word choices. And, of course, the
state of the state.
Driven by ideas rather than rhymes, for it is not metres, but a
metre-making argument,
That makes a poem. Convenience store or university English
department
The day's disputes, down to the meaning of the weather, leave you
indisposed
To share your heart of zero and your inner rose.
It is the strong force, the energy of the loved ones combined with
cooperation for good or war.
Dad's years in New Guinea fighting **** he said, were his best by far.
The best that can be said or done is Be where you are. Love the one
you're with
Not necessarily an adult of the opposite *** perhaps just a kid who
hates math
And school, dresses goth, reads rarely but learns a lot from movies
and YouTube,
Has the presence of mind to say I am who I am, deal with it. That's
who I want to be
And have always been. Today clean the house, again. Woke up this
morning to two thoughts:
How sweet to be alive! Life is tough.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 6:38 PM UTC
When will I realize there is no enemy
I'm only caught up in a cage of my own dualities
It's not the only time I realize we're all standing here
But it's the only time that I see what needs to be said clear
I walk into a battle field before I come home
This is the moment where you take this story for as it is
Another book in life that takes you for a ride to glory or hell
So when it comes into time, on which line, which side will you choose?
I walk into a battle field before I come home
I'm only speaking in the tongues that give you the remedy
Come on and listen in, together my friend comes the clarity
What are you waiting for? A miracle is always happening
Oh you can't afford to let it all slip away
Don't run away
Your troubles will double and finally catch up to you
There is no hiding now
Don't look to the other guy
It all comes down to seeing yourself in a different way
So stand in front of the mirror
Just take a look and see what I see
I walk into a battle field before I come home
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
*A community gathering
with a calm surface
erupted of a sudden
to an external
stimulation..
a visiting speaker
uncovered it seemed
sharp hidden dualities..
these dualities flared
left brains fired
and a fragile dialogue
was disturbed..
Also fragile were
searches for identity
self searching for Self
awakening on hold..
A microcosm of life
in our time…?*
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 12:39 PM UTC
All furies, pharaohs, phalanxes
Will bow before the one
Whose fountain flows from phoenixes
To bathe him in the sun
For what is time if not his throne
And what is God but just a word
To thine whose kingdom shines against
Existence's absurd
And most perplexing paradoxes
Of dualities of man
And its sealed Pandora's boxes
Of reality's demand
Upon the lonely lucid dreamer
Who has seen beyond desire
In a world of Disney Movies
Where such fairy tales expire
To a hungry belly's hatred
And the fear of thirsty lips
And taking more than your fair share
Of poison apple trips
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 3:44 AM UTC
having the audacity
to accept the duality
of man, of time, of life
rather a causality
in itself
of things, of people, of emotions
you can finally let go
the loss of innocence
before you even know
not hopelessly muddled anymore
like the grey colour
in the middle of black and white
no more under the pressure
now off to where the air is fresher.
Nov 17, 2020
Nov 17, 2020 at 3:26 AM UTC
Lost in the somnolence of his solitude
The poet’s hell
Lies in the heaven of his existence
That he cannot see
With eyes closed
And back turned towards the future:
His game composed through endless hindsight,
But no sight for what is here…
But I am here…
And I looked into his eyes…
Lost
In his dualities and questions,
Frustrated with only heaven’s silence for an answer,
He vowed to fill the world with words,
But still he stopped to listen to mine:
“Do not feel the guilt of change
As words seem to lose their meaning
As they fly away from your tongue
And drift into the sky.
In this moment together
Do not fight time as it moves forward
And wait forever for abstract completion,
That escapes us even now
As we dance
Into the present’s dawn.”
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 9:25 PM UTC
write little. overwhelmed by the "competition,''
those who birth litters of poems by the bushel,
but let us serve you morsel, a petites bouchées,
a fingertip to both lips, sensately fulfilling, the
need mutuel, thus, we are both self~satisfied,
as I search for words of comforting arousal,
that relax simultaneously & invigorate, for these
are the dualities of our innate inanities, the things,
that can never be satisfied without a compromise
of nerves and plaisirs, clashing leaders, who both
are needed to satisfy the larger human diction of
conditions;
sometimes they exist in the same universe,
sometimes they exist at the same time,
sometimes they exist only in the mind,
and not the cells of the body human,
whereby the inputs must be inserted,
to reach the boiling *** of overlap,
but if this tease, doth please, even for
a secondary second, that we are both
blessed
Aug 18, 2025
Aug 18, 2025 at 2:55 PM UTC
You see, the water does all the things it’s meant to.
It does everything and nothing
It goes everywhere and nowhere.
Its essence is dichotomies and dualities
The shores line its gentle brutality
Infinite and dangerous - an endless finality
Sometimes still – a lifeless vitality.
The wind can push it
The earth can shake it
To understand this paradox is a risk –
Don’t take it.
A stagnant mind will see you drowned.
Producing these lines, but not a sound.
Words to be written but not to be spoken.
These are the words my soul has chosen.
Jul 30, 2023
Jul 30, 2023 at 4:11 PM UTC
Somewhere I sit beneath a tree
& elsewhere that tree sits beneath me
Somewhere there are people who speak colors
or else they cry for what they see
Somewhere lay a thousand eyes upon us
deep within clouds we do not pierce
& somewhere else the plants have voices
men are silent, they've ceased to be
Somewhere the moonlight tints the morning
& the sun does not set; it refuses
Somewhere all that is will be upon us
in an instant; all insanity
rends the minds of logic
granting bird-calls to the one who's truly free
Somewhere still, the all-at-onceness
strikes in holy totality
& decreeing that the sky must now be parted
to draw distinction between o'er the deepest sea
Mar 31, 2011
Mar 31, 2011 at 3:01 PM UTC