"idealisation" poems
Prophetic words
prioritise &
immortalise
that which
we embrace
then slowly paralyse
Realisation supersedes
idealisation:
Prepare
for impact
Taste
the bitter sweet
fruits
you have carefully
nurtured
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:39 AM UTC
The idealisation of the far-fetched reality ,
Doesn't make it right.
The happiness coming from someone else's pain,
Doesn't make you thrive.
The insensebility of taking wrong decisions,
Doesn't make you look cute, just cruel and naive.
The passing on of the confusion,
Shows your incapability of commitment or in general Life.
The repetitiveness of a command,
Doesn't make people oblige.
It's a simple game...
A game of what's wrong and what's right!.
Of seeing things you ignored ,
Being a self-centred blind.
It's an opportunity to open yourself up,
For the things you've done to others,
and putting yourself in their shoes...
And.....REALISE.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 5:24 AM UTC
I used to believe I knew how to love.
I understood romance, and
the beauty and genuinity of affection.
I was wrong.
I was wrong;
wrong in my understanding of love.
Wrong for believing, impractically,
in the idealisation of a romantic love.
It has become apparent to me -
that love, in meaning,
and understanding,
is about what you can do for another.
It is not affection, affirmation;
support, acceptance, romance;
but, that love is conditional -
until your being can no longer do for someone.
For being so wrong,
wrong in my perception of love -
it has left a bitter-tasting question:
do I know love, and how to give a love,
that only has meaning - and value -
only when you have tangible gain?
What is left of our human emotion,
of the value of abstract feeling,
of a smile, of the journey of knowing,
learning, admiring; a person.
and being hopelessly overt in passion,
interest, intrigue and attraction;
the genuinity of being wholeheartedly,
fanatically, in love with a person.
If the meaning of love is only valued
by what a person can do for you;
do I really want to give a love of that
insignificance?
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 12:09 AM UTC
Gee, this is gonna be a long one.
An open letter to my Father,
Patron of my anxiety,
Champion of my desperation.
I know you mean love, I know that's all you ever meant,
But you were cruel, Dad, I'm sorry.
You brought me into a world you believed to be uncaring and cruel.
Why?
Why would you do that, Dad?
I'm not angry, I say,
I just want to psychoanalyse you.
I think you're depressed, I say,
You've just assumed that your experiences are the default.
You see, that's always been your problem.
When I say I think about death,
You tell me that's normal,
When I explain that I never wanted to exist,
You tell me everyone feels this way.
But you're wrong,
And childish idealisation has held me to your words for too long.
I made you promise not to die back when I was an atheist.
It was the only way I could live.
Now I make you promise to haunt me, instead.
Ironically, I am more realistic now than ever.
Don't you find that funny?
Fathers do it;
Mock their wives and mock their daughters.
Tell me I'm insane, I'm crazy, I'm deluded.
When I say you're close-minded you tell me you can't be,
Not after sitting among the pews.
You do realise Christ isn't the only saviour, don't you?
Fluoxetine, citalopram, sertraline.
I take propranolol for panic attacks you induce.
I tell you to go to anger management classes all the same
And mum tells me to ask the doctor about family counselling.
Oh, and she tells me not to tell you, either.
The worst part is that I love you all the same,
Soul-sucking, depressed, arrogant
Father of mine.
I make you promise to never stop looking out for me.
I make you promise to wait for me on the other side,
So I won't have to go alone.
Dad, I know I seem sad,
I know I seem angry
And childish and obsessive,
But I am wise enough to know that I am not wise yet
Which is more than you can say.
How does it feel to have no sense of wonder?
To sit in a Church and feel nothing?
To tell someone their God is a fraud to their face?
I tell you I worship the Universe as It is,
That my God is Everything.
You laugh.
When I listen to you, I am missing half of the visible light spectrum.
Your colour-blindness is catching,
contaminating.
Maybe the Universe was an accident, but we cannot deny it exists.
But you would.
If anyone would, it would be you.
Dad, hear me out:
Maybe the colours will be brighter after therapy,
Maybe you'll understand me better if you listen,
And try,
Really try
To understand.
"And why do you listen to him?"
Asks my therapist.
Dad, I had no answer for her.
It certainly wasn't because I believe in what you say.
"Why, when he doesn't listen to you?"
Dad, you told me it was acceptance that saved you.
But I don't think that's what it was.
You call it acceptance, I call it 'resignation'
To the only fate that doesn't scare you.
Dad, I will see you again.
Without eyes, without senses,
But I will know you,
And you will know me, and I will let you know,
"I told you so."
May 20, 2019
May 20, 2019 at 3:23 PM UTC
The solid wall,
Unscalable in height,
Impenetrable in might,
How that secure wall,
Encase this psyche,
And carefully constructed,
It be excessively rendered,
The masquerade of idealisation,
Albeit,
This wall ultimately conceal,
What torment persist,
Of ageing scars,
The heart still suffers
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 1:10 AM UTC
well, sure, philosophers argue against the sophists,
or what they deem: the art of rhetoric,
the act of speaking persuasively -
and that's grand, it really is... but then
some sophist comes along, say antiphon,
and he says: i have an argument against
the anti-rhetoric of philosophers,
i have an answer against thinkers.
a sophist's argument against philosophers is tiny,
like an atom, it's tiny, because it's but a single word;
now words are atoms, and letters aren't,
in the same way that chemists see elements
as if atoms, and do not go beyond Fe (iron), Pb (lead),
Xe (xeron) N (nitrogen) -
because then their main endeavour is lost,
as would be the case in metallurgy -
i.e. there's nothing practical to do with the concept
atom in their field; given the chemical alphabet of
concerns and mandible parts is based on the system of
elements -
e.g. a + b + e + g + i = being
alt. c + h + o (quantity of each) = ethanol (2c, 6h, 1o);
oh i'm pretty sure sophists have an argument against
philosophers, because what that argument is?
a fucking thesaurus;
that's what i've noticed philosophers do,
they engage in applying thesaurus rex in their
rhetoric... a sophist would apply rhetoric to mean one
thing, but actually another, which is called subversion
rather than rhetoric...
he'll say one thing, but mean another, that's beyond
rhetoric, that's subversion -
that's how sophistry evolved over the years,
rhetoric (a), sure, but "rhetoric" (b)? that's the art of subverting
your eloquence at a persuasive argument;
which leads into: **** sapiens? really? such a thing exists?
i'm inclined into **** schizoi* - a split man,
a multiplication of gemini.
but why philosophers and a ****** thesaurus?
well, they're using a rhetorical approach based on that ****** book,
they're juggling their arguments via synonyms,
they're not exactly genius alchemists in that respect,
first they say concept, then they say idea, then they might
say inspiration, or they then might say idealisation,
and then they go bonkers and say talk about a chair,
and say: chairness or chairiness
they go beyond standard adjectives -
and given that, look at the close proximity of what they're
trying to say, and the nearest possible "puzzle", like the word:
cheeriness;
cheer, chair, cherry!
trying to expand on the word chair can be
rather misguiding, considering you can very literally have oak,
and that's it!
there really have to be literal cul de sac
moments in philosophy, where a proper use of coherent language
can become manifest; which alligns itself with the zeitgeist
debacle of "proper" pronoun usage.
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 11:32 AM UTC