"equalized" poems
May 27, 2013
I let it take control of my mind. Disappearing in a mist of haze; wandering for days. Searching. Seeking. Finding. Fitting into my piece, so I could spread amongst the rest. So I could fit and be apart of it: the Great Mystery. Truth. So I can understand the meaning of life. Is my path determined? Do I have free will? Can I escape this? All I know is that everything is connected. Earth is a single component; a mere microscopic portion of the entire universe, which is compromised of more than the human mind can understand at this point in time.
A little stardust.
How is it possible that less than five percent of our oceans have been discovered? Are we ignorant to the fact that when earth started experiencing life, it was in the depths of the ocean. Hence, all production of landscape, the animal kingdom, primitive and current **** sapiens, technology, advancement, and discovery of our past is a creation from the sea billions of years ago. Everything on earth is composed of gasses that came from the universe: what simplistic thinking.
Humans fighting against humans, to taste eachothers blood in the name of “victory”, a game to exploit and prevent eachother form an equalized entirety. When will all work towards progress, instead of the demise of the "other". When will we realize our brothers and sisters are not our enemies. How connected the human race is as a species;
does anyone realize?
Class Mammalia, which consists of over 5000 species, is a single group of the animal kingdom, yet humans are classified by each other on basis a of enhanced melanin, and physical traits. Do dogs laugh at us? Ah, I used the term race and everyone decides to think it means colour, or some stupid stereotype!
what have we come to?
When will we reach our heads out of our ***** and realize what surrounds and encompasses us as a whole? A consistent river that flows with time, shining mortality by with plenty adventures, constantly writhing. No control. Like I am a mere droplet in the ocean, licking the coastline, bathing in the sunlight. Creating, and being created.
Its amazing isn’t it?
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
My Night with Art Garfunkel
some years back wrote a poem titled
My Night with Paul Simon,^
so it seems that in time,
this his companion’s piece would find me,
reaching its own due date, the timing right,
indeed, perceived, by the muses
that this one, the poet who cannot sing,
needs urgently another soft poet’s voice,
to come to me at night, and so it came to pass last night
a regaler, the teller of tales, both of us looking admiringly upon what was our youthful appearance that only we see in a vintage Murano mirror
the where the why, no matter, just two NYC boys
in their declining years reminiscing about growing up
in Queens, telling tales with no need for exaggeration,
too old for that, for old men lying is always sadder than sad and the truthful stories are not stories, but harmonies
the voices are worn soft, the worse for wear, and the velveteen
is two shaded where usage has reduced the weave, and sunlight has discolored but not discouraged the aging agents
we exchange verses, the swapping of our ****** fluids,
I do not share my prior pope paul adventure,
a separate but now equalized recording
he signs his new book for me,
full of reminisce and new verses
and I am thinking
Art for art’s sake, or art for Art’s sake
or both
wistful higher and higher notes that can longer be reached
of no consequence,
for the body is the work and the work is from the body
let’s take a selfie I ask, but a polite demurral hints of better a preference remembrance of things the way they were, in the past, but I snap a quick photo and it resides on a Facebook entry, unless the muses deleted it without telling me
(which they do quite frequently,
hoarding the best I made all for their elusives elfish selfish-selves)^^
Dec 5, 2017 10:20pm
<•>
^
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/387251/my-night-with-paul-simon/
June 2013
^^
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/747333/the-elusives/
June 2014
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 5:19 AM UTC
Trump is more justice than Mohamad
Trump took money from Arab nations
Because they had money they don't deserve
He hated Muslims and released his shout
Islam is responsible for any killing occurred
Mosques is the cells for terrorist
Mohamad is the prophet of Islam
Mohamad old nation hated the new religion Islam
As it equalized between the slaves and Masters
It equalized between black and colors people
When one of Mohamad' friends swore another one
The first was white one
Another was black one
He swore with the son of the black
Mohamad got angry and talked
He told that one to apologize
The man turned and put his cheek
Under the another foot and swore
He would not get up until he put his foot over his cheek
They got up, hung and cried
Mohamad invited to new religion
His nation hated him
They put a plot
They had gathered and waited
Mohamad was known as the faith and the honest
His enemies of his nations put the valuable things to Mohamad
They put a plot to **** him
They planned and they decided
There is another power who planned
God told him and cared
In spite of taking the valuable things as requital and revenge
He ordered his cousin to sleep at his bed
As a sort of deceive and to have time to get
Out
They were forty of most trained knights
Carrying strong swords
God put sleep over them
Mohamad crossed between them
They invited all Arabs to **** them
When Badr battle occurred
His enemies were strong
They were also a lot
One their leaders said
We will go as a trip
Sing, dance, eat meat
Then defeat Mohamad
If Arab nations heard that
They fear of us
The winds blew against the desire
They were defeated
After the battle finished
Mohamad had kind heart
Who had money payed for his freedom to be happened
Who had not
He learnt ten of Muslim how to read and write
At this battle one of his friends
Had his sword been pieced
He went to the prophet
Telling him that he had any sword
Mohamad had no sword except his sword
He took a branch of tree lied
He gave it with his bless
The man took without wonder or amaze
He shocked the branch at air in strong
The branch became a strong sword
He still used it
Till his dead
Mar 18, 2019
Mar 18, 2019 at 4:25 PM UTC
someone once said to me that
such agony in broken heart that
s/he equalized it with die alone that
in time it made me realize that
it must have hurt them such in pain that
no one could have not fathom what
they're in right now.
such a valid tale.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
I think we are freezing
in castles made of ice.
In a stalemate of frigid disconnect
from the obscure glance of one person into space .
For connection, to anything but in heat,
is null.
We both reside in doomed cubes
of store bought freeze packs. Until, a single rub
sanctions my day to the friction of your eyes
and our feet against the ground
fracture the isothermal lines, our connect and our
divide
Constant contortion in puddles of time,
the havoc of equalized warmth
wreaks the kingdom of loneliness.
And isotherms becomes the ultimate
agents of demise.
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
vicodin is a long term friend
with a warrent for my liver
and my life.
1:43am
we had an appointment
and god only knows
i could never be late for such
a chalky sense of closure.
and the young paramedic
who burst my vein and scolded me
could only pray his words
meant more than the hum of streetlights
as my body exchanged existence
for the embodiment of thought
and a brittle concept of my phrenic nerve
which was never more at peace than when
my lungs remembered the luxury
of standstill traffic
of weighted morals
of crushing insecurity's release
and the resulted ballooning
as squashed egos cry, and the garage door screams as it's yanked open
horrid sounds and tortured motion on both accounts
spiritual cataracts torn free
commercialized visions now blur
as the orange bottle morphs from
vicodin to paracetamol
equalized views in my bloodstream
as the sheet metal ceiling shifts to plaster tiles
to a TV set
to a bathroom mirror
to an agonized woman next door
to the back windows where my mother cries where no one but the whole world can watch
to a blue plastic mattress and a first floor window covered with bars
to a pale green day room with a caged TV
where there was bleach in the stomach of a nine year old
where the dying took their resurrecting breath between games of spoons
where the hinges screamed and blood pressure was taken three times a day
this where the living came to kiss death goodbye
until next time
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 10:09 PM UTC
by: W. A. Marshall
6-6-2014
the spherical motion
a pedal clicked in chrome
like pistons on a train
this continual flowing
equalized organization
of carbon-fiber, trickling over
soft tar and grit -
alfalfa dancing like
a thousand green strippers
for the pastured stallion
goldfinches with spring plumage
and red winged black-birds
calling,
cautioning the field
my escort into
the silent winds
a conflict that coerces
blood further inside
my swollen veins,
and my lungs and heart
labor to find fresh air
in a country of drivers
with disturbed faces
in vehicles that hurry by
fading into oblivion
but I and thou glide firmly
burning –
in the moment
of my self-contained
fire.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC
Freedom: exemption from external
control.
are we free? where I live
it's rare to encounter one
who's skin shares no resemblance
with me.. If so he's protected by
a shield that grants him authority
Time has been granted
the assist to ending
slavery people they never
removed the chains they just
made them hard to
see..
schools equalized in
a sense that they welcome
you and me yet I've been
in four schools through twelve
years and my complexion stained
the flesh of ninety percent of those
who weren't qualified to teach
are we free? Freedom of
choice now an ability
but what we're given
for choice rotates the
cycle that eats my
community
****** and sports
two of the easiest routes
to living successfully so
they flood our streets
with what is needed to
build the thought that
this skill came naturally
practice makes perfect
there's courts every
where your sights
can reach while drugs
were placed here as an
option which aided in
feeding and destroying
families, with drugs came
weapons defending what's
yours a necessity so we ****
then go to prison that's two
for the price of our standard
desire to feed
this story to common
in a rappers break down
of what he's seen, most
good at story telling so
they sell stories of surviving
such horrid scenes... through
media free of charge we continue
to purchase fraudulent dreams
only to mimic with hope
on living successfully
as for athletes, naturally
we are prepared
physically, once were
good enough were promoted
to a higher level of
minority... Television and
money a platform that feeds
us clarity so our youth strives
to become worthy enough to
live on that expensive leash
this is just my
opinion my people
were never truly
freed some may have
made it past thee control
but never lived long enough
to guide our release
Still a slave
© 2014 viewtifulink
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 7:51 AM UTC
The dreadful is not bearable.
The good is unreachable.
Our gods condemn us.
And death is a curse.
We all suffer. We all fear.
Anguish and distress
are not utterly in our hands.
We are not in control
of our life and death.
Do not despair.
~
For somatic dread
is equalized by
the deepest pleasures.
For fear is merely
an imperfect prison.
Do not despair.
~
For the good
is within our reach.
Let go of empty desires.
Dismiss aversion
and attain true delight.
Do not despair.
~
For the divinity of the gods
is our shield.
Internalize the truth:
within the divine
there is no wrath.
Do not despair.
~
For our deepest grief
lies in the fear of death.
Do not despair.
For death is no curse
and life is not far from complete.
Embrace mortality
and make it the gem of your being.
No damnation awaits.
No sorrow is at hand.
For death is insentient.
The ancient sage:
his life my blueprint
his death my archetype.
Do not despair.
For death is insentient.
~
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 1:38 PM UTC
My life is equalized,
By the way it burns.
My mind shifts,
Beside soul.
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC
Bottom of the world
One more second
Breath
A voice without a name
Eden
Faking a death
For fear of
Recognition and its
Chains
A notch
A bell
A measurement in
Love and
Hate
Touch me and
I will break
See me and I will
Shiver and squeal
Like the insects of
The wild
The wild
What a place to destroy
What a place to conquer
What a place to think we
Ever had
Any control
Not lost though
Yearning to be
Found
Longing to be
Equalized
In time
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 7:12 AM UTC