"groundless" poems
Marooned
Vapid beauty of this room
Frothing carpet, ocean blue
One wall me, the other you
What lies between is residue
Scribed on soggy, shipwrecked parchment
Questions asked, time forgotten
Who are we?
What do we know?
Into these questions Summer flows
And thrashes at your Autumn’s brinks
Yearlong they torment my brain
Infringing on every season
If not for the manic scheme
To love and having loved be loved
This correspondence to a distant land
With stars, more numerous and brightly lit
Than my burgeoning highway exit
Would by no means have left my hand
But if, against all odds, it will prevail
Extolling truth’s folly, my sorrowful tale
Quells with reason my groundless pride
At having docked on your passionless harbor
Unloading platonic cargo during our youth’s ebbing tide
Must not create union of body or mind
You swallow my horizon, like the sun twilight
Though, one need not chase that orange orb for tomorrow
In this night without fortitude, lewd humor consumes me
Singing with the mouth on my head and your voice inside
I plunge into darkness
Skimming its silky surface
Before zipping it behind me
Shall I drown, as I have lived?
In vain, my dreams your subjects
Taken for ransom in your heart’s Tripoli
Not surmising recompense, I forfeit this
A note belying resonance
Of my heart’s last echoed throe
One desperate effort, giving up
Feed every vestige to the void
Wading, torso encumbered
Each sullen relic of your memory
Falls to the deep’s frigid ebony
Then, only too late am I cognizant
That my own breath is tribute yet spent
Therefore if I were to float or swim
I’d give you every ounce of who I am
Convince you to relinquish me
From your tepid, spurning sea
Then lying beneath moist underbrush
Slowly, breathe no more
Aug 9, 2010
Aug 9, 2010 at 4:24 PM UTC
With all the wrong notions
How are actions sound?
In the heat of emotions
With groundless ground
In the world unlimited
With the counted days
Without soul’s bid
One always strays
Being crown of creation
One can change his fate
And with every limitation
One can always be great
Excellence in helplessness
Can only be achieved
When God’s transcendence
Is properly received
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Gold
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 12:22 AM UTC
this just in:
a needless road rage killing
a senseless movie theater killing
a pointless middle school shooting
a meaningless ****** suicide
an irrational child homicide
an illogical workplace massacre
a specious robbery shooting
a mistaken identity ******
an inane ****** for hire plot
a random killing of a farm family
a worthless gang related ******
a futile car jacking slaughter
a crazy serial killing
an groundless paperboy shooting
an unnecessary police shooting
an unfounded revenge ******
a juvenile crime gone wrong
a harebrained scheme ending in blood
a mad shooting spree
more at eleven
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 11:45 AM UTC
I found myself stuttering yesterday...
clumsily tripping, fumbling,
over words.
The explanation of my whereabouts -
in question.
Like a guilty child.
Awareness then anger emerge.
irritated, indignant hostility.
That I would allow this again -
over and over and over again…
Trying to account for every moment beneath suspicious eyes. Groundless guilt rising up, as I choke, words broke and unspoke
- while the little voice in my head screams "I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG!"
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
beholden green
the hot road
rusting groundless leaves
icicle landscape
St. Four leaf Clover
Skewers on the grill
Candy on a trail
5th avenue in snow
Busting sprouts
Dandelion Wine
Harvest yellow
Yuletide fire flame
Rain filled creeks
Dried up clay
The last hurricane
Rains turns to ice
May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 4:35 PM UTC
Recto:
One of those days. The snow is falling soundless
out of a grey and uneventful sky.
A day for calling friends from times gone by?—
each one I try stays hidden in the boundless
wilderness of restless Sunday si-
lence. Floods, a sinking pound, less job provision—
the usual run of news on televison—
groundless reasons for concern or high
time for despairing? Or decision! Reach an
arm out, you can fly, your spring is wound! Less
imprecision! Let the word resound! Less
fun, short -term, maybe, but clearer vision.
Verso:
One of those days. The snow is falling
soundless out of a grey and un-
eventful sky. A day for calling
friends from times gone by?—each one
I try stays hidden in the boundless
wilderness of restless Sun-
day silence. Floods, a sinking pound, less
job provision—the usual run
of news on televison—groundless
reasons for concern or high
time for despairing? Or decision!
Reach an arm out, you can fly,
your spring is wound! Less imprecision!
Let the word resound! Less fun,
short -term, maybe, but clearer vision.
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 1:14 AM UTC
These locks, which fondly thus entwine,
In firmer chains our hearts confine,
Than all th’ unmeaning protestations
Which swell with nonsense, love orations.
Our love is fix’d, I think we’ve prov’d it;
Nor time, nor place, nor art have mov’d it;
Then wherefore should we sigh and whine,
With groundless jealousy repine;
With silly whims, and fancies frantic,
Merely to make our love romantic?
Why should you weep, like Lydia Languish,
And fret with self-created anguish?
Or doom the lover you have chosen,
On winter nights to sigh half frozen;
In leafless shades, to sue for pardon,
Only because the scene’s a garden?
For gardens seem, by one consent,
(Since Shakespeare set the precedent;
Since Juliet first declar’d her passion)
To form the place of assignation.
Oh! would some modern muse inspire,
And seat her by a sea-coal fire;
Or had the bard at Christmas written,
And laid the scene of love in Britain;
He surely, in commiseration,
Had chang’d the place of declaration.
In Italy, I’ve no objection,
Warm nights are proper for reflection;
But here our climate is so rigid,
That love itself, is rather frigid:
Think on our chilly situation,
And curb this rage for imitation.
Then let us meet, as oft we’ve done,
Beneath the influence of the sun;
Or, if at midnight I must meet you,
Within your mansion let me greet you:
‘There’, we can love for hours together,
Much better, in such snowy weather,
Than plac’d in all th’ Arcadian groves,
That ever witness’d rural loves;
‘Then’, if my passion fail to please,
Next night I’ll be content to freeze;
No more I’ll give a loose to laughter,
But curse my fate, for ever after.
1.6k
My pen is drawn,
I play my card.
In opposition, bullets charge
At the humble hull that graces space.
I row through open,
Sound is broken,
Yet I feel the great explosions
As I begin my work of art.
His beard can change the name of Virgo,
As it entangles her with rugged work.
His fingers grasp the fins of Cetus,
Guiding him through hallowed dirt.
Upon my course of groundless ground,
A chorus spits its sinful praise
Upon the Heavens, hands are raised;
Filthy angels make the games.
Holy traitors, boundless bounds,
And sacrilege will fall as rain.
The ones who think they are marionettes,
Will taste the blood on their swords.
Controlled by delusion,
They swing from confusion,
There are no strings in an aimless space.
The pen masters dance in allusions!
Imprison the stories of old,
And execute them with ink!
A war to break out in a comedy show,
Over one wordless tome—
On an altar in my vision zone!
My pen unarmed,
My senses harmed.
A soundless token of echoing voices,
To be spoken in softness, over thundering roughness.
This altar carved with wood and stone,
This tome of words with sheets of ink,
These words wear masks— I cannot read.
Tear a page,
It falls like rain.
Observe the rage,
Let freedom faint.
Soak the page,
Its masks detatch.
Lift the rage,
I row away.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 5:10 PM UTC
The mind gets clogged with cobwebs with the steady march of years
“’Twas time,” I decided, “to spring clean between the ears”
The hinges were all rusted on the doorway to my mind
But I entered the dark abyss, not sure what I would find
I was faced with such a jumble of accumulated junk
That for a second I hesitated, and almost did a bunk
But I was driven by a request from a mind still young and fresh
And drew courage from her kindness and continued on my quest
It looked so dark and gloomy as I crept through memory’s vaults
The largest room, and darkest contained the list of all my faults
That room was just plain scary, so I softly closed that door
And went deeper into the labyrinth, determined to explore
Long forgotten smiles began glimmer in one room
And I gathered these around me to drive away the gloom
The more I gathered, the more appeared with a soft and friendly light
I freely spread them all around and made the whole place bright
I swept up unfounded doubts, threw out some groundless fears
And scrubbed the grime from my mind with a bucket full of tears
I catalogued my memories and looked at what I had
I moved the happy ones to the fore, but retained some that were sad
Though sad, they were genuine and had earned their rightful place
But I moved them towards the back so they wouldn’t cloud my face
Jealousy and envy just didn’t want to leave
But I managed to evict them with a super mental heave
I took a break and looked around to see what progress I had made
A top coat of happy memories had made the sorrows fade
I filled a bucket with my achievements, and things that made me proud
And tossed it in the room of faults. Boy! Was the conflict loud.
I gave thanks to the inspiration that first drove me to this task
The improvements that I felt were much more than I could ask
Before I attacked the cobwebs, I never realised
The different perspectives that you gain when your mind is youthenised
Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 9:09 PM UTC
white winged water walker
filled my dreamy head
sliding, gliding on shimmering glass
far from my land locked bed
once a child and filled with awe
my visions shamelessly bold
a water walker I would be
and straw could turn to gold
but spinning orbs wash one with age
and weight one's wings with years
and flights of endless prowess
are grounded by groundless fears
yet when blind night blocks the light
and one's mind is allowed to explore
childhood's chirping vision
is again allowed to soar
Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 6:04 PM UTC
Sunlight rushed on your talons
as receding seawater...
the sand quickened black...
fine tuning stars.
Over-majesty...horizon's
scream vowed to silence,
~High on Light~
your crazy outburst of flight.
Weighing on air--
blank with groundless view...
spirit-sifted.
Solitary to the degree of
divine feedback...
moment to motion....
motion to moment,
perfectly still and air born.
A pounding and liberating
heart thousands of
feet above...
for below.
Feathers refined by fires
too dear to see...
more akin to what experience
Knows of itself.
Entire languages contained
in mere words...
that seem to be unsaid
in the saying.
You're the White bedside
vigil of life to death.
The Narrow Way
narrowed to nonentity...
till nothing was in vain,
and such became Suchness.
Love's love of being gave
your being...
as simply and fully.
Ashes to ashes, you fell
from a wayward sky...
a wiry Cruciform trembled
beside you as if on a
projection screen.
Perhaps to symbolize
you could go on forever flying...
or close your eyes and go on
forever in the here and now.
You are the stuff of dreams...
as I Am...
I don't know what else to call
you, but Eagle-man...
may you sleep deeper
than sleep
upon a purple
cloud.
*Based on a being I saw in a dream years ago...I tried to
put the being's essence into words.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:21 AM UTC
*Deliver me from the folly of jealous men . From the mirth of mischievous demons that long to traduce and besmirch , remove all thought of appeasement toward the rancorous and ill intended serpents that crawl the Earth . Shelter me from the disingenuous , the naysayers of good intent and those that portend lies as benefaction , seeking my friendship through groundless merit and frivolous actions ..
Guide my feet across the perilous river of treachery toward my fellow man , directing my ears to the benefits of silence , gravitate my persona into the light of Dharma ..
Bind my arms from receiving poisonous bounty , render my tongue stillborn to boastful atrocity ..
Sharpen my eyes in the confusion of night , grace the helm of life's vehicle with the Angelic aura of pure white light* ..
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 8:27 PM UTC
white winged water walker
filled my dreamy head
sliding, gliding on shimmering glass
far from my land locked bed
once a child and filled with awe
my visions shamelessly bold
a water walker I would be
and straw could turn to gold
but spinning orbs wash one with age
and weight one's wings with years
flights of endless prowess
are grounded by groundless fears
yet when blind night blocks the light
and one's mind is free to explore
childhood's chirping vision
is again allowed to soar
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 5:14 PM UTC
Daughter of the sea he called her,
Called her through the running sands,
Sands of time were passing over,
Passing through his naked hands.
On the sands her feet were falling,
Falling through the groundless place,
She could not hear him gently calling,
Calling out from some lost space.
There upon the rock she waited,
Waited blindly for love to come,
She did not see that she was naked,
Naked her bleeding heart so young.
Across the water deep and swollen,
Came his voice so rich and golden,
She listened to him softly praying,
She cupped her hands and he came near.
Then from out the waves he surfaced,
Came from out the rushing waters,
Came from down beneath the sea,
Boldly she longed to hold him there.
Seaweed hung around his body,
Shells were woven through his hair,
She could see his hands were waiting,
Waiting for the whispering waves.
He took her heart so gently bleeding,
Bleeding on the ocean floor,
He held it tightly, held it softly,
Squeezed it until it bled no more.
Down they went, they went so deeply,
Down into the cave of mystery,
She immersed herself in potion,
Magic delights consumed their brains.
Ecstasy was a firm embrace,
The ocean heaved and thundered,
Swollen they roared and crashed,
Come now be one with me at last.
Mar 16, 2010
Mar 16, 2010 at 4:08 AM UTC
Not long
after you pass out
exhausted from playing
the futile game of anomie
hoping to slumber with Eros
here comes Trickster
up out of the pillow
like mist
he just wants to talk
about a great stone hearth
the fireplace of the gods
at the paradoxical center
of a groundless void
and everyone there
is laughing and smiling
and you know they love you.
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 8:47 AM UTC
There is a boy bathed by the light of the full moon
I wrote about it, then I burned it
Now.. sitting in the shade of the budding lime trees
I realize that which is once written..cannot be destroyed
An oddness is abroad I believe
An oddness that allows for the purchasing of warm apricot juice
An oddness that produces groundless but powerful fears
An oddness producing an impulse to run away
An oddness that weaves itself into a shape among the sultry and coagulated air
An oddness in the shape of a boy
Captured by the blue light of a full moon in the middle of the day
I shut my eyes but the vision flutters before me
As if it is impressed on tissue paper
Blown gently by a soft breeze
The boys face though beautiful is one made for derision
I think to myself..this can't be.. but alas it is
For when I now open my eyes the hallucination
For that's what I believe it to be
Still flutters before me as a candle flame flickers
My heart is beating in a wild desperation
I am about to scream
The mirage dissolves itself and the boy vanishes
The fear that has griped me evaporates
I put the whole episode down to the drinking
Of warm apricot juice on a very hot day
But am I wrong am I wrong...that would be an oddness
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 12:47 PM UTC
I am a Senior, of advanced years.
I strive to live each day,
I refuse to buckle under - it’s not my way.
I speak up to any injustice when seen
I listen to all, be they young, old or teen.
I hope for tomorrow, a better place,
I struggle to accept, we’re a superior race.
I am a Senior, of advanced years.
I am a Senior, set in my ways,
I love to live fully, it was always my way,
I watch the young, indulging in play.
I learn from others, accept advice without qualm.
I daydream of a world, peaceful and calm,
I laugh at my daydreams, it’s a time to play.
I cry for the peace: always one step away,
I am a Senior, set in my ways.
I am a Senior, stubborn and firm,
I admire the person, who can admit they’re wrong
I respect the one, who sings a positive song.
I expect few of you reading, know me at all,
I accept life has been wonderful. Today? It’s a ball.
I reject naysayers, and their negativity;
I deserve to be heard, with courteous civility.
I am a Senior, stubborn and firm.
I am a Senior of an advanced years.
I desire to see peace - so far out of sight:
I dance with my wife, in dreams every night.
I sing at all times, my words mean naught,
I want to be considered, as having deep thought.
I need to be assured, of my groundless fears!
I pray to be spared, of handicapped years.
I am a Senior set in my ways,
I am a Senior, stubborn and firm.
I am a Senior of advanced years
Rhymer. April 19th, 2018.
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 9:35 AM UTC
She sits—left leg upon right,
right hand resting in left,
eyes closed, watching joy drift
among sorrows; up one minute,
down the next; a Ferris wheel
of fear and loneliness, then
moments of letting go;
the brows furrowed and then
a smile on her lips—the way a
cellist emotes herself through Bach.
Others have said to her that she is
lucky to be so groundless, to be
free of any misapprehension that
life is perfect or that it will be easy.
She knows better than that.
And because she does, she can take
the crests and the troughs as they come—
a part of the ocean and not the wave.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
*Your votes could have established dark powers over all control,
Such votes could have made the smallest part exceed the whole.
Only groundless clamoring’s do the protests approve,
Instead, now the power is ours to punish and to remove.
But now false gods and evil cast their wares and express,
Defending their own evil servants or their own rhetoric’s distress.
Oh that my powers of saving truth were not confined,
I’d show you how you are being forced to believe that evil is best for your mind,
Making an example out of every one of our kind.
Must I at length wield the sword of justice and then withdraw?
Ore the cursed effects of trying to confuse the law!
How ill our fates are by their blood thirsty scam.
Beware my people! Of the fury of a patient man.
The law is what patience requires, watch the law show her single face.
And don’t be content to depend purely on grace.
Oh yes, her words are always true with a glaring eye,
She can erase terror and she will never die.
By their own evil arts 'tis her righteousness decreed,
Those dire artificers of lies shall finally be the ones to bleed.
Against themselves their own witnesses will swear,
Till viper-like their sinister plot they themselves shall be ensnared.
For they **** from the nutrients of their own ****** gore
Which was always their principle of the evil long before.
With Belial and with Belzebub they themselves will fight,
Once comrades, now foes, even their foes shall do them right.
Do not doubt this event as felicitous mouths engage,
They tell lies and show only of their own brutal rage.
Then let them all take their own resisted course,
To Guantanamo to finally find their long deserved remorse.
But when they stand up all breathless late at night,
Let their guilt rise up in them with redoubled might.
For lawful is powerful and still is still superior all around.
Even when long driven back at length it must stand its ground.
They all took their oath and gave their solemn consent,
So there will be no appeals under this firmament.
Henceforth a series of new times shall begin,
Though many painful years in long procession has woefully ran.
Once more this nation will be restored,
And all other nations will know the law is our lord.*
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
The door has no key to let you out
Your trapped in a web of despair
Your cought by the power of another
Now your broken and past repair.
You have no control you are boundless
You have no voice you are soundless
Floating in air you are groundless.
The hopes you had cannot be found
Great exspectations have let you down
Now all that is left are feelings of dought
Given to you by the power of another.
All of your colours have now turned grey
Leaving your dreams in disarray
All that you had has gone too soon
Taken from you by the power of another
What ever happened to the sun and moon
And all the stars that shone so bright.?
And all those fields you walked upon
They have all disappeared into the night.
You lived on earth in your own paradise
Now all has gone like a bird in flight
Taken from you by the power of another
Snatched away from your heart and mind
Gone in a flash then out of sight
Your hopes have become like a fading light.
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 3:24 PM UTC
Lord, sift your comb
Through my thoughts;
Untangle them like
Unruly locks of hair.
Trace gentle circles
Along my back; sooth
All the worries that are
Groundless in Your love.
Feb 8, 2025
Feb 8, 2025 at 1:55 AM UTC
It just doesn't seem the same,
Yet I still look for you to blame,
I made haste laying waste
In the face, fetched silk lace,
To my own heart's melted case.
Lingering lingerie from last night's nameless stranger,
A horrible serenade when I thought your body surrendered,
I called your name when I came like I used to,
A mistake most irate, through my eyes I see you,
Every disbelieving belief in my cynical mind,
I have tried jerking off but just get close to crying,
Pathetic as it seems, a seemingless reality,
I write in paradox and ****** hope to bring to me,
The groundless belief in asinine wonder,
I think of you smiling and realize the sunder,
The corroded attempts of finding someone new,
Someone as smart, as gorgeous, as lovely as you,
I often lose sleep with a painful thought,
How long did it take to forget me?
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
"The unexamined life is not worth living" -Socrates
"KNOW THYSELF" -- Socrates
"Wise is he who knows that he knows nothing." - Socrates
"Do not seek to have events happen as you want them to, but instead want them to happen as they do happen, and your life will go well." -- Epictetus
"No pleasure is a bad thing in itself, but things which produce certain pleasures bring troubles many times greater than the pleasures." -- Epicurus
"Natural wealth is both limited and easy to attain, but wealth, as defined by groundless opinions, extends without limits." - Epicurus
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 4:07 AM UTC
A new Tunisian poetic genre is born.
What is a "Kasserine"?
Structure:
A Kasserine is a new poetic genre created on July 9, 2017. In it all is condensed in two lines with a sum total of thirteen or fourteen syllables. Its first line cannot exceed seven of them.
The title of a Kasserine must be an integral part of the poem in terms of interpretation. The number of its syllables must not exceed seven.
Subject matter:
In a Kasserine nature and imagination perform the same poetic activity. Nature ceases to be a mere mirror reflecting the feelings of the poet, the political or social situation, etc., and becomes symbolic in the very moment it renounces representation as a one-to-one correspondence . Nature in a Kasserine has no existence prior to the pricking into action of the imagination by the self of the poet. For, even though it is groundless (it does not belong to the self), the imagination has no intentionality of its own; this is why it needs the intentionality of the subject in order to be operative.
Samples of a Kasserine
Ruby Sun
Among amethyst silk clouds
She flirts with the sapphire sea
(c) Paula Swenson, USA
Tunisia
A fair island of light
in my imagination
(c) Jeffard Ster, USA
Red Giant
A star inside her implodes
Heavens of chaos unfold
(c) Stefan David Sederscog, Sweden
Voyeurism
The sea kisses the sky
Imagination beholds.
© LazharBouazzi, Tunisia
Note: Friends and acquaintances are cordially invited to start writing sublime (marked by repression of meaning) Kasserines.
(c)Lazhar Bouazzi, 9 July, 2017.
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 4:27 PM UTC