"explanatory" poems
a HOME credible THE BISHOP accusation ADMINISTRATION is PARISHES one MINISTRIES that, SCHOOLS after RESOURCES review SAFE ENVIRONMENT of EMPLOYEES reasonably CAREERS available, CONTACT US relevant MAKE A GIFT information BISHOP’S FAITH APPEAL in LOVE AND JUSTICE consultation AFRICAN AMERICAN MINISTRY with CATHOLIC CHARITIES the PLANNED GIVING Diocesan CHANCELLOR Review OFFICE OF CONSTRUCTION Board HISPANIC MINISTRY or CAMPUS MINISTRY other CRIMINAL JUSTICE MINISTRY professionals, STEWARDSHIP AND COMMUNICATIONS there YOUTH MINISTRY is FINANCIAL SERVICES reason MODERATOR OF THE CURIA to MAKE A GIFT TO THE CAPITAL CAMPAIGN believe SOCIAL MEDIA POLICY is FAMILY LIFE MINISTRY true VOCATIONS
The soup today is not what it could be;
We’d better search out the old recipe
Explanatory Note:
I fear the poem as written fails, which is my fault (perhaps I have lapsed into fuzziness from reading Leonard Cohen), so here is a bit of exposition:
The words in small print are a quote from the Bishops of Texas (long may they wave), generated by some in-house scrivener, about what constitutes a "credible accusation." "Credible accusation" is not a title in civil, criminal, or canon law, and it appears to be some sort of Article 58 (cf. Solzhenitsyn's The Gulag Archipelago), a means whereby anyone is guilty because he has been accused. It stinks.
Also stinky is the behavior of some few priests and religious.
Anyway, I pulled the quote from a diocesan web site, and scattered among it in LARGE TYPE categories from that site. I stirred 'em all up in a soup because the matter of paedophilia and the bishops' responses seem to be a soup, making it difficult for a "good simpleton" (cf A Canticle for Leibowitz) like me to understand.
May God have mercy on us all.
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 4:20 PM UTC
I have put a Worry Eater
on your bookshelf, right
beside your favorite books.
It may look like a simple
wooden box, but don’t be
fooled: it is a Worry Eater
and the disguise is just
so random visitors will
not know what it is and
try to take it from you,
because Worry Eaters
are very rare and coveted
things.
I would think the name
should be self-explanatory,
but you must feed it daily
in order to keep your
Worry Eater happy and full.
Feeding it is simple:
open the lid and whisper
your worries in, or write them
on little scraps of paper —
lined college-ruled will do,
but the margins of old poems
make a special treat if you
want to do something nice
for your Worry Eater.
(I’ve heard that diner napkins
and the backs of grocery-store
receipts add a nice flavor, too.)
Some people may tell you,
“Don’t worry, everything will
be alright,” but these people
do not have a hungry
Worry Eater waiting at home,
so you can just smile coyly
at them and say, “Yes,
you’re right,” and then go home
and whisper your secret worries
to your secret Worry Eater.
Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 6:14 PM UTC
3.14 is the value of pi
Semicircle is the shape of a smile
8 is the symbol for infinity
Welcome to quantumly formed poetry.
Expressing my thoughts through cryptic theory
End of reversed evolutionary
It might not be self-explanatory
JUST Keeping It Short and Simple, M, E.
C, L, O, U, D, plus the square of three
is all that I feel when you are with Mi
Fa, So, La, Ti, Do, Re... or I mean me
Like M, A, G, I see... my world on thee.
You are my earth that is a twisted heart
I dream to be the he beside that art
Giving his best to be a romantic
Intimating through the fields of physics.
My love for you is three-dimensional
Taller and longer than diagonals
As deep as abyss, like cosmos so wide
but unbound by space and unchanged by time.
A fire started by a Maxwell's demon
Burning and shining from here to the moon
A flame so lunar and so lunatic
breaking the laws of thermodynamics.
Faring the distance at the speed of light
Lining the night skies like a meteorite
Traversing the widths of the hyperspace
Or cross a black hole just to see your face.
Escape with luck from a magnetic flux
Be right thrice a day with a broken clock
Above all that, there's just one thing I want:
To spend my last breath by holding your hand.
Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 10:40 PM UTC
I am keening
In lament
bewailed at this notion.
Contempt for structure, value and discipline is acceptable.
Jeremiad
A parent can't parent but would be praised for "friending" rather than tending to their child's growth.
Hippie tricksters and hipster is all the craze with new age bad zones and soft tones
Then everyone moans and claim the lack of parenting is to blame when they go columbine and spray bullets to deal with the torment.
I'm sick of the news and its pro no rules avocation
Sick of the pop trend of life is always a dead end
Sick of fly by night "let them be and hope they make it" attitudes
When a little hug and a quick "let me show you" can make our youths guide the progress rather than tear it down.
I little input is appreciated, accepted and acknowledged
But not mandatory
Be good be rewarded, be bad be without
Very self explanatory.
Those in between that goal are an obstacle not a hero
I want greatness for my child
Not mediocrity to a zero.
Parent with your experience and regulation
Not google and trending
See the end and before you begin and preempt the blind pretending.
Cuz today is not ok
When we fear tomorrow
Cuz yesterdays ways were forgotten.
From one father to the next
-Alexis J Meighan-
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 11:25 PM UTC
I am keening
In lament
bewailed at this notion.
Contempt for structure, value and discipline is acceptable.
Jeremiad
A parent can't parent but would be praised for "friending" rather than tending to their child's growth.
Hippie tricksters and hipster is all the craze with new age bad zones and soft tones
Then everyone moans and claim the lack of parenting is to blame when they go columbine and spray bullets to deal with the torment.
I'm sick of the news and its pro no rules avocation
Sick of the pop trend of life is always a dead end
Sick of fly by night "let them be and hope they make it" attitudes
When a little hug and a quick "let me show you" can make our youths guide the progress rather than tear it down.
I little input is appreciated, accepted and acknowledged
But not mandatory
Be good be rewarded, be bad be without
Very self explanatory.
Those in between that goal are an obstacle not a hero
I want greatness for my child
Not mediocrity to a zero.
Parent with your experience and regulation
Not google and trending
See the end and before you begin and preempt the blind pretending.
Cuz today is not ok
When we fear tomorrow
Cuz yesterdays ways were forgotten.
From one father to the next
-Alexis J Meighan-
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 11:27 PM UTC
Place your finger on her chin
Now draw a line down her throat and extend the trajectory
Why? Because then you get to touch her cleavage
I thought it was self-explanatory
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 4:41 AM UTC
Romance, for he is the one who seemed to be trapped
A sea of melancholy
Oh, the beauty
Quite unbearable
How he hides what is deep inside
Having no patience nor the time for idle cares
Little by little he loses his way
This is what I call an unhidden heart
You can see it
But the thought isn't really there
Appearances at first glance
With any pair of human eyes
Are what seems to be love
Little by little he loses his way
A deeper dig you find that what you thought
Was a heart
Is an empty abyss
Little by little he loses his way
Without knowing
His personality is switching
Little by little he loses his way
Meek and darkness overpowers
This was fact
Till the day he met
Emotion
She was stirring, dancing
Throughout the clouds
Feelings bursting without warning
She was everything
That Romance was not
Automatically,
Almost robotically,
Semi-impossibly
They fell in love
Without a care
Emotion was unafraid
Unafraid to unveil her heart
Slowly but surely
Romance learned
His shell was wrapped airtight
Unfolding, slow
Layer by layer.
This took time, no rush
He became free
Time and patience
Letting go of the past
Automatically
Almost robotically
Semi-impossibly
They fell in love
Without a care
Ready to move on
Letting Emotion show him, her ways
To live
Not only to live,
But to thrive in happiness
Carefree
Their love
A melody
Priceless, a gold you could never purchase
A light, blazing rays, a golden star
Who could not hear the beating of their hearts?
Rich and pure
Together they were a spirit, complete
Hidden in each and every one of us
We are all individual
Yet we share their story
Fate takes its course
Little by little you lose your way
Yet automatically,
Almost robotically,
Semi-impossibly,
They fell in love without a care
Fate once again brought two strangers in love
No questions
No ponders
Unexplainable
Love does not need an explanation
Self explanatory
This is your story
Find your Romance and Emotion
But first
Little by little you will lose your way
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 1:00 AM UTC
Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. Could it be…No.
Just emptiness.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 8:07 PM UTC
Did it ever occur to you that nothing matters
We’re nothing of something
Products of the past
None of us will ever ******* last
Did anyone tell you the truth?
Did you ask?
Everyone that’s ever died is never coming back
Once you’re gone, you’re done, dead, dust
We’re not clean
We’re not pure
We’re unsure of the future and the past
It’s a mystery
This is all self-explanatory
We’re all dommed to be consumed by what we ignore
Our blood will pour
As we adore what we can never have
We die
The world ends
Everything stops, nothing last forever
Whether it’s natural or self imposed
Remember not all of us grow old
So think before you grab the knife
Think of the end to the suffering
Enjoy what’s left before it’s gone
Because one that’s exactly what we’ll be
Dead and gone for no one to see
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 3:33 PM UTC
Allow me to hold your breath for just a moment,
I long to figure the reason why you breathe,
And why it is, your heart continues.
Persistent machinery of wicked wiring,
And unknown roots.
I distrust anything that can work without rest.
It is not natural.
Breathe in, breathe out.
In rhythm with the drumming in your chest.
Stay in time,
Remain suitably in line.
And do you know it now yourself?
How it is,
Or rather, why it is that you exist?
Because without any explanatory factors
What s the point of anything at all?
There must be some form of reasoning,
Or you'd be able to simply slip off without struggle
As you wished.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 6:04 PM UTC
Why did you do this to me?
Your the reason Im addicted to cigarettes
I'd become obsessed with you
So why did you make me so addicted?
Why did you carry on with lies and deceit
Why did you ask so many questions that night?
But why were my questions still unanswered?
Why did I want the time to rewind itself?
Why didn't you look at your phone
You didn't look at your phone all night
And it made me obsessed with smiling
Why did my body feel like it was on fire
When you kissed me with such passion
Pressing me up against the front seat window
Whispering "you look good"
Guiding your fingers through my hair
Why did I want to show off
What you did to my body that night
Why did you let me borrow
The scent from your sweater?
Why did you?
Why do people notice how you look at me
Why are you the reason time goes fast?
Why are you the reason I can't catch up?
Why am I falling for someone like you?
Falling for what you don't want from me
Why am I not good enough to be with?
Why am I not yours
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 7:35 PM UTC
I am in no mood to be upset
No, not the time
I've got far too much crap on my mind
There are the tests and the troubles
My best friend is becoming distant
My thesis essays are stacked in mountains
My mother is a horrible woman
Better than my father
Dead, i'm glad
The view from my window is getting old
I like how it looks in the twinkling city
Distant and blurry
But i know its there
The world is an annoyance
I think i'll leave mine
Maybe find a better one
Far the f*ck away from here
Dec 7, 2010
Dec 7, 2010 at 2:50 PM UTC
i wish i could erase you from my mind as easily as i erase the words that i write about you
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 9:28 PM UTC
A poem with five
moras above and below
and seven above.
© Matthew Harlovic
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 8:30 PM UTC
Which soul of things
dispute me?
Each slit or crack in the street
has their soul in me
the flower is I,
the mouth that speeks, the feet tied
all escapes are I,
what disputes tonight my soul?
a horn or the adventure
the cat who crosses the bridge
under the silver pond
the meat, the weaving material
in each sniff I think,
with the sweat I love,
your life deserves a dead soul
that I may dwell
Being small
without explanatory words
we were the curtain closed
the **** of my mother
and it would seem that soul
enters a woman
that turns …… when seen
like losing a coin
She inhabits all me
I am she
as decomposing meat
between us
ships, trains and horses
already vanished
how many souls will have ******
her breath
while wandering through my body
in the leaves of the trees
each
trembling with their own way
Of thinking me
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 2:56 AM UTC
Have you noticed lately?
How people diss everything big and small
Things they cannot relate with
Things they cannot comprehend
As if, the onus lies on others - people and things
To be self-explanatory, to spoon feed
As if, a mystery should as though unravel itself
As if, we have no part to play here
As if, everything is for us to enjoy
But never to be pursued
As if, life should come easy,
And everything in it, everything that comes with it
As if, death too, should come easy
And maybe this makes sense to everyone
This fashion of thought
Maybe I'm the only one who cannot fathom
The depths of stupidity in thinking so
Maybe, I cannot relate
To the ways of the world
It's a strange world,
As if, the onus of becoming comprehensible
Is on the world...
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 1:44 PM UTC
I ******* hate high school.
You all make me sick.
I ******* hate high school.
Get me out of here quick.
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 4:28 AM UTC
the section in question is as mentioned in rachmaninoff’s
vocalise (op. 34 no. 14), first some symbology of numbers
in relation to kant’s thesis:
in a sequence
(end) (beginning)
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10
upon reaching 1 and
subsequently 0,
i find this to be unsatisfactory in terms of the kantian
equation 0 = negation,
unless there be an affirmation of non-negation, the use
of zero would have to take the form of coordinates,
thus the sequence would be as above but it would end
thus: (0, 0, 0) - given that the above sequence can be
seen a linear, given that it might reflect the essence time,
ending the sequence with 0 would only provide
“the end of time,” hence the need to change the whole
sequence ending with the other essence, space - and thus
the loss of negation, given from the beginning (0, 0, 0)
the following sequences are provide:
(1, 1, 1), (2, 2, 2), (3, 3, 3) (x, y, z), etc., which is the affirmation
i was looking for - movement in a three dimensional space,
the only other affirmative possibility is by ending the
sequence with ∞, which is transcendental positivism
aligned with ending the sequence with (0, 0, 0),
and not transcendental negativism of merely using 0;
nonetheless, this is my introductory fascination
as on offshoot of what is about to be translated
(i can't read philosophy in english, hence this translation
comes from a translation of german translated
into polish and now translated into english) -
antonyms of pure reason
the third conflict between transcendental ideas
thesis antithesis
causality in agreement with the freedom does not exist, yet
laws of nature isn't the only everything in the world happens
causality, from which all only according to the laws of
phenomena can be explained nature.
in the world. for explaining them
it is also necessary to accept the
(self-accomplishing) causality
through freedom.
proof proof
let us accept, that there is no other accept, that freedom exists in a
causality other than the one in transcendental understanding of
agreement with the laws of nature; the word as a particular type of
thus everything, that is happening causality, according to which
appropriates a preceding state, after events in the world could take
which its next successive state is place, namely the ability to begin
not sheltered from a certain rule. in a way that's absolute of a
certain state, and also in the
same way, its series of successive
implications.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
is in the spaces between the words where the unspoken
can make imagination leap oceans in a single bound
let us be a tad explanatory,
the accuracy of hi)s(tory,
starts with the evolution
of his revolutions,
his tree rings are
2.481481 multiple
of some of you
and this vantage point
just is,
neither dis or ad
my window fire escape is in NYC,
mon arrondissement est Le UES,
my-e-scapes, my e-names,
multiplying and manifold,
all revealed and revered,
even the state sanctioned one,
the nomination law-approved,
all are in the consciousness and the conscience
flowing in his thousands of writings,
all delivered
by the ancient viaduct roman
in the cerebrum of him
by the whim,
by the command of muses,
by their voices becoming,
now residents in his head
those tasking demanding, never satisfied,
poetry gods/goddesses remade the human,
plucked him to be a science project,
began by teaching him observation,
the meaning of colors
in comprehending feelings
by employing the senses five,
working as a team coordinated,
a team of superheroes
(POW! BAM! SPLAT!)
armed with the powers of
kindness, modesty and a
love for the sensuous,
that speaks volumes sensual
with no words, and the sound
on low
and together then, extract
the elements and plaster all into story
with the truth and fantasy interspersed
all his accumulated lovers,
future current and past,
look over his shoulders
as poet composes
suggesting constructs and textual emendations,
this's and that's, and don't forgets,
and some,
what does it matters...to this unusual text
fear nothing, except restraint, make knowing distance,
a precarious safety net, at best, no, not your best friend,
safety comes from the roots of who you are,
and so simple, there they are, written out for you,
in a thousand plus easy to follow steps
it is not distance that's the issue
reminds me, Herr Professor Albert,
(who takes the fall colors thru his eyes)
but time, yours, his, the chiefest enemy,
unless you can bend its curve
in shared poetry intelligible and cloudy
<•>
4:14am
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 4:21 AM UTC
Sarah Mclachlan - Plenty - the one time you told me
i was Eastern European, of long-forgotten Europe....
and you were Irish, then i knew.... time to breed
a knuckles's hello.... should i really mind reality?
you, godforsaken paddy skin-head?
throw a ******* paddy / potato
at me i'll get clued in at where
Chelsea gets tribalism of Hammer-smith...
oh lucky you, the Irish tentacle...
maybe the next Irish in me ought
ti dance the ******* leprechaun dance
for new years'... cos' that had to be minded
in newspapers...
i'll the be ****** of goth to mind
enter the dragon, starring the ill fated Brandon...
an you be the anonymous *******
pardonable journalist with angst prescription
when mommy ****** the
milkman and daddy said: huh?
or shave my head and become a fake *******
or the atypical Irish-head...
some said Celtic, but some said: Sale-tick-ticking-blah...
the meat-heads bashed their heads together...
wedlock northern:
every Mc-Noodle.
later read Mac. tosh
or Celtic
in the Glasgow curriculum, as said: Mac. arched Ranger...
for the clover leaf brigadiers
aye... spoon the
shovies! banknote worded:
two pence a punch...
some call it a London mo-cheese-sum
(mohican - heir to a higher phrasing: cannot but
will do) - and so the Australian banknote came
sooner than the migration points system:
as ever, plastic first, spooning baked beans
and later the "trouble": as Glasgow estate shimmered
the saying: concrete does two blues,
Hertfordshire horseradish:
alter. marketed green slime: or: guacamole...
god, i wish i was soppy sometimes...
at times when it was least
explanatory to mention Vaughan Williams...
perfectly now...
snotty curiosity ever went as far as
a hanky... or later read: a chappy chopping
wood with echo, blistered with
e-oh e-oh and the faked yawn, done, repeatedly,
for purpose of a masquerade:
or Apache tribalism etiquette
saying: oh... h'allo'h h'allo'h h'allo'h;
pompous blues and said Peter to mind
while some geezer did the beat
for the slang while regurgitating an attack
of the Zeppelins.
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 11:20 PM UTC
~~~
Postface: This Thing Called Poetry
postface - a brief explanatory comment or note at the end of a book
or other piece of writing.
~~~
*more and more will come,
'tis the nature of,
'tis the burden of,
this compulsion,
this undeniable, irresistible,
emotional chain,
a synapse from
connecting ganglions of nerves,
what we call poetry
each poem
a winnowing,
a narrowing,
the landslide of a moment,
a perspective erected,
a momentary monument
intended and left out overnight
for perpetuity's sake
a finished poem is
a broken telescope,
stuck on a single view,
a broken kaleidoscope,
forever flash frozen
upon a
permanent fruited plain,
a still life salad
walk a few footfalls
to the sandy beach,
humbling,
this vastness,
this billionth universe of
trillions of grains,
each a microscopic starship,
each a poem uncovered, exposed,
weathered and worn,
living among friends
a few taps onto this tablet,
table scraps,
leavings of chalk marks
of poetry,
same,
grains,
metaphoric, meteoric,
a billionth
of something both
dead and living
yet,
still and always,
a simple postface
still required,
a must have,
a necessary
a 'the end' official
sign your name,
your truest signature,
emblem
not of ownership,
but of completion,
here I was done
here I wax spent
sign my work,
so I know this grain came from
my weathered and worn
work, still living
and will be so known,
long after this body's form
as week is but
a few grains of sand*
~~~
July 2, 2015
NML
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
There are evident walls of invisible matter which maintain the appearance of enviable rectitude, even though the blatancy of our traits confront the myriad of personal dishonesties over timeless planetary separations of union.
So delicate are those seemingly subconscious mechanisms which are subject to our explanatory naïveté and unfathomable presumption.
In this case of psychological avalanche, every metaphorical snowflake within our lives has offered a “not guilty” plea.
Oh, jurors of celestial cities, our mantras have subsided down slopes of exploratory fumbling where excitatory satin slips from the shoulders of a wanton seductress of socio-political exploitation.
Let us ***** an altar, and present an offering to the universe, which surpasses the veneer of familiarity and self-righteous redemptions.
After all, our fantasies are a reality, don’t you think?
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 9:48 PM UTC
Let me go
Don't pretend you're holding on
when I see you are in love with her
You've already broken my heart
Just let me go
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 6:11 PM UTC