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Cautiously, we're tied together, but that doesn't mean I'll be scared forever. With blotted thoughts you smeared my logic, blurred my memories and mixed them toxic. And honestly, I'm dying out, you smothered me with my own doubt. And as I drown, remember me, for all the things I couldn't be. Copycat, I'm losing here, and all you've done is uncover fear, you made me evil; illogical, and now I know you don't care at all. Do you make the desperate cries, logical to my demise? Involuntary refracts this soul, can you place back what you stole
from me?
--------------
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!!
Godawan Aug 7
Earlier
she talked long
Shared selfies too
Now only" gm "comes
A true lady speaks
Only when she is
happy from her heart
And sees some
Important art & part
      Else she never
Opens up her mind
       How much
She may be kind
       I wonder
How people label
Women speak
More than needed
Listen to your
Inner voice
and wonder
      If they don't
Speak less
And
Assess more.
Dusting off the rabbity
that squirrely tempo anxiety,
closing in with night.

The irresistible pattern
the irrational illogical fight
a battle with one’s discipline,
mirroring our might.

I make it home a fluttering
belly twirled and muttering,
I tell myself tis alright!

The damage done, and everyone,
I’m just like them and millions more
succumbing at the Devil’s door.

And the taste, the burn,
the healing calm,
the shaking and the thinking gone.

Knock one back, slam out another
night is early, rock it brother,
Tying on a swilly swirling
buzzed-out brain and mind a twirling. . .

“Ahhhh…”

I feel better now, exhilarated,
exasperation falls to stout resound;
I pour again and knock it down!

“Ahhhh…”

Spinning now, not to say I’m spun
but choosey choosing several a pun
I see myself an accomplished one!
Yes, that’s it, that is me,
look upon with thoughts of glory
yank open the freezer for glass that’s hoary. . .

How cool am I? certainly not boring
all night I’m here, pouring, pouring. . .

Buzz subsides, thoughts slow too,
lurid leering, slobbering swearing,
stupid actions and nothing new?

I lose the bottle,
I lose my shirt,
***** on myself,
pass out in dirt.

Another night of drunken hero,
time that’s wasted for kingly Nero.
But who am I to judge myself?

I’m hardly worse than anyone else?
Shiny Aug 2018
Feeling never ending cycles of
Greatness and misery
Trapped in a world of illogical ideas
Every thing seems so bothersome
Cindra Carr Nov 2011
Tongues of fire course down my face
My rage screams within the pathways of my mind
You wreck your ignorance against the breakers of logic
You drown your cause in the spreading sea of delusion
Yet, you speak as if every word drips with importance
Touch me not with your illogical brand of fecund derision
I have seen your true side
I have seen how it makes you feel when others trip before you
Glass houses are lost on you
You cast the stone of inevitability because you are blinded
My work
My needs
If self-importance makes you money
Then find a new line of work
This place is growing broke feeding yours

cc111911
Carter Ginter Apr 2013
Worst mood ever and I can't write.
I wake up into this weight on my chest
And thinking of everything I've done that I regret
Wishing I'd just be dead
I'm weird, crazy, illogical, ******
Why does everything always go the same?
It's just like my shot putting
I know what I'm SUPPOSED to do
But for some reason I just can't.
I'm sick of how I am
I really am
And I can't sleep when I'm sick with regret.
I don't understand myself
And why I can't just be normal
Have normal friends
Do normal things.
Instead I'm socially awkward
An angry individual.
And I just wish it was over.
I don't know why.
I know what I have is good
So why am I complaining?
People make me angry
I think I just need to remember that no one is perfect
Nothing works the way it 'should'
Little things set me off
Nothing calms me down but time
Occasionally.
Sometimes time just gives everything a chance to boil
Boil over until I snap
Until I lose it
I'm seriously sick of people
I used to be able to at least hold a conversation
Now I can even do that much
I can't even write right.
This is sort of just a free write journal thing. I've been in a terrible mood for the past week or so and I woke up even worse today. I would never do anything stupid that would harm myself but nothing in this write is a lie. It's my thoughts straight from my head to the page. Sorry it's just a pointless, probably selfish rant. But when I can't write well it's the one way to still get my emotions out if my head.
William Eberlein Mar 2013
I don't know where I'm going.
I barely remember where I've been.

Tomorrow scares me.
Just like yesterday had.

Living in the moment seems...

Irrational.
Illogical.
Impossible.

But not doing so,
seems even more so.

I am afraid of today.
Afraid to live a dying life.
Each day,
and each night,
I hold on to a chance
that I could die a death worth living.
Lizzy Jan 2014
I fell too hard
Too fast.
Now I'm left with this haunting emptiness.
You filled every crack in my bones
And every dark corner of my being
Until I was finally whole.
For the first time in my life.
And that has terrified me to no end.
I won't let myself be fooled by your
Unforgiving love.
So I'll throw it away
Before you can take it back.
It seems illogical
But to hurt myself won't be nearly as bad
As you hurting me.
Maybe I just need distance
Maybe I just need time.
Because I've never had a love like this
So true and terrifying.
My head doesn't know what to think.
The only thing I can do is
Run.
Paul Hansford Aug 2017
If my words had power

to tell my feelings for you my love

they might seem illogical.

So too the extravagant nightingale

singing to the summer midnight.
Left Foot Poet Sep 2017
trust in the shape of a key,
good god how corny is that?

satisfactorily nonsensical, a Pharisee phrase,
so offal illogical,
it borders on the poetically reprehensible

who has time to state this stuff,
pretend it is worthy of something respectful,
work it into a Nobel Prize awarded script,
nominated for "really bad ****?"

an ordinary hardware key, brass gleamy,
and the squealing grinding noise
heard while a blank progenitor is reimagined,
so so annoyingly ludicrous in this century
of plastic replicators but the noise,
comfortably familiar as a sound of
things being made

run thumb test over the cuts,
as if your thumb should know
what order the points and bevels,
the toothy gap spaces should be,
the correct disorderly order of the teeth

there are very few locks on a farm;
indeed the front door key
has not
been seen
in many a year

what's that you ask?
ok ok - I get it - in harvest time
it is early to bed and earlier to rise,
conclude this mystery key,
red winter wheat needs laying down,
stop your word seeds germinating

there may be few locks on a farm,
everything rusts so quickly anyway,

but stop to comprehend just how many locks
the human body employs  -
at least 613,
maybe many more,
and only one master
for them all

a shiny gleamy thing,
strangely,
its cuts and grooves seem to
spell a word
trust

go figure

1:05am in the city
yes, for the Canadian Iranian
Carter Ginter Jan 2018
This fear is consuming me
A rope tying tightly around my throat
My chest
My stomach
Constricting my breath and cutting off circulation
Thoughts are spinning spinning spinning
Through my hollow mind
They won't stop
They're stealing my sanity
How do I function through this
When my mind knows it's illogical
But I cannot stop the panic that's destroying me?
I need an escape
I feel trapped but I'm not
I don't know what to do
This isn't the first time
And it isn't the last I'm sure
I don't know how to escape this
When I'm running from myself
multi sumus Nov 2018
Please excuse the delinquency of this introduction

Our reluctance
             to the judgements
                        of the agents
                                   of destruction

We wanted to write a few prose so those who chose could be gathering from it

The assumption
              there is something
                               an insight
                                      or deduction

And while concidering the possible repercussions We might be facing

The presentation
        this present state in
                   which the statements
                               press mentation

We're sure to procure closure in the vulnerable over exposure

with exhorted
               supplications
                              by esoteric
         ­                                revelations
                               
In the beginning lets just start with a na-ame

                   Multi Sumus
                 "We Are Many"
          All of one and the sa-ame  

                environmental
                     incidental
       so there's no ONE to bla-ame

                  Amalgamated
                   Complicated
      yet We're feeling no sha-ame


   Cursed with this blessing by the charts of Our births

    Compounded by experience throughout the time on this earth

   Situation realization through extensive research

                  Ameliorating
                   Emendating
          till returned to the dirt


               So it's obvious
              there's lots of Us
                      Innocuous
                 We promise this
                 with confidence

influencingcongruent  
                          confluence
               of the congregants
              by this augmented
                           auspicious
                           cognizance

                           auspices
                             operable
    in Our neurological
                       acropolis

                        
 Okay, now that We have your um "unndivided" attention

The ****** descention intentional

With potential illicit material

Exotic content individuals

Unequivocal extreme of the
physical

Inciting the violence eventual

With depraved images into the temporal


  And just when you thought We couldnt exacerbate this already exasperating elaborate facade

  Now We have you fascinated thinking We're ******* to The Marque De Sade!

Post deliberation- Psychopathia Sexualis as bed time stories was kind of odd

But The Kama Sutras' pages had hastened degradation from where they'd been gnawed!

   There were a few more things we want to sit down and talk about

Like the fact that We're actually celibate
The distain for institutionalised education
and dropping out

Thats alot of intimate information
  "How could We ever let this happen?"

To be honest We're just honored to give some fodder for your defamation of character cannon!
 
  So before you begin your rapacious onslaught of malevolent inspection!

   We've already detected all the things that's presumed you've currently rejected!

   With proverbial red pen in hand you've commenced your conceited correcting!

   And your futile fervent attempt, in leaving Us feeling extremely dejected!

   your annoyance with the performance of deforming poetic normalcy

The convulsive compulsions of the expulsions of the compulsory

            Conclusions include:
                 Literal assault
                          and
                Literary battery

And cleaning from the cathodes This convoluted corrosion of conformity!


    Without trying to sound hostile
                          though it's possible
                                   that a hospital
        istheonlyinstitutionthatcan
                    ­                    jostle those
                                              illogical
   ­                    pre con ceived
               fossilisedmisconceptions

                       ­ All the while though

your just seeking attention for the aforementioned


Alright, Well We're not gonnna be a denying it

because We're constantly being reminded of

rhyming with defiant defining an

the metre maids retirement  

"She's been lying?!"
                    "Oh Geez!
                           She's fired then!"

cause its trying-trying to inspire realigning the tongue from relying on tying to find it!

        
      Gerunds are whoreable!

         /'speliNGz/ deplorable!

scriptioscripturascriptacontinua!...
"?"

(n)irony{8}>(adj)ironic+suffixally

(adv)       Ironically      {8}{3}­   (adj)         moral!          [3]|B2|
(adv)    Rhetorical­              [2a]
(adv)        ******!                   [1]

{dictionary.com}[merriamwebster]
|cambridge dictionary|

nunciatesinuateunctuateunciate!...
"There is no way We c"


   With atrocious verboseness
   who'd notice the odious?!

"We are not! gonna stan"

     01000001 01100100
        01110110 01010000!...

"Wait! i dont th"


   yllacitammarg cihpromanA
    tor/sion/ed          /vern/acular!

             ^                       ^
  CUL/t u r/AL PER/spect/IVE•

  <PECULIAR {2}  [] [] {}{}  L•VE>

"UughH!"¡"UughH!"¡"UughH!"
"STOP!
              STop!

(adj)[1:2a]    stop! Wha' what are you doing?!"
".."
"No no, you get offof there!"
-(motioning with finger)
"And you two! Mmf!"
-(shaking head upwards)
           "~" "~"
"Don't use that tone with me!"
                "="
"Alright then"        
-(stern nod)
-(salaci•us grin while smacking both bottoms as walking past ;)

(adj)[1]
"Now what do you think your doing?"
-(quickly turning towards other)
"……,…"
"Rreally?"
"……!.."
"And how is that helpful?"
-(crossing arms)
"….-¿lol"
"Did i ask you fo?"
"…..-~¿"
"And you are entitled" "¡" "to" "¡" "your" "¡" "•pinion."
"…!"
"i understand, yes"
"…;~
!"
"Yes"
"~#"
"YES!"
-(opening arms)
"just talk WITH Us about these issues."
-(hand on shoulder)

(n){8}{9}
"……"
"No fret, May We continue?"
"!"
"Go•d"
"!"
"Now, Would you be so kind?"
-(gesturing towards player)
".."
"thank you."
-(humble nod)
"…,……^?"
"They wouldn't be able hear it anyway"
"?"
-(shaking head downward closing eyes)

               "Because it is written"
                              

     (We now return you to the
    regularly scheduled program
            already in progress
)
                              

…attenuating circumstance by objectionable technical difficulties


  Continually conjugating with;        
intellectually
infectional
inflectional
abilities

    But these consensual;
contemptually
abjectionable
contextual
similes

   has Us postulating that with;
exceptionally
inceptional
correctional
humilities

   there's a deduction exponentially of;
potentially
subjectionable
conjectural
tendencies


  We're very much obliged that you would grace us with your presence
   in essence
   it's evident
you take precedence
being prevalent
   and the
relevance of your acceptance
to Our all exclusive
    intrusive collusion
is proving profusely
  that the astute
  can irrefutably
elude the obtuses'
       rebuking


And although We're not looking
                           for
                    justification
                just in case then
               the arrangement
             with it's placement
                   of degrading
                     statements
                        ajacent
                   ­       to the
                         blatent
                    and flagrant
                   abnormalities
                 with the falacies
                 of formalities in
                    a-all actuality
                     being valid
                         via the
                      vehement
                           and
                      venenated
                      vituper­ate
                       veracities

  And just so you know the list of pressumptions is deliberately
unexhaustive
At the cost of
your responses
involving constant devolving nonsense
in the comments
on the contents
full of copious despondent obstinance
But as optimists
Our only option is
hopes that it's the conglomerate
your being honest with

                 And please,
                     We ask,
         That you use your true profile when you begin your posting

  That we can ALL see the blood of a "real" poets muse
            flow from the pen

                  So in closing...

Next time you make the
           decision to visit them
             with your insolence

                 machiavellist
            hypercritical cynic,
               Remembering a

            six minute version
          "authority" usurption
               deserving by an

                              •

                    Uneducated
       Mental Fragmental Eunich
                   Eunoterpsian

          
           Filling your head with
     thoughts you wish to jetison
              by suggestions of

              ingestions with a
     taste of your own medicine!
        When you rest your head

          sugar plums won't be
    dancing, substantial chances
            you will be glancing

          a couple more times,
          We hear repetition is
             good for a growing

                             •

         Mind you that We left
         easter eggs to quantify
            attendance, intense

                attention on Us
      at least you will be leaving
               the others alone

             We just wanted to
           take this opportunity
                            to cast the first stone.
Donatien Alphonse François
  Marquis de Sade
1740-1814

Psychopathia Sexualis (Psychopathy of ***), by Richard Freiherr von Krafft-Ebing, 1886

The Kama Sutra (/ˈkɑːmə ˈsuːtrə/; Sanskrit: कामसूत्र  is an ancient Indian Hindu writing by Vātsyāyana
400 BCE-200CE

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3099453/first-stone-ode-to-trolls-extrapolated-i/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3099476/first-stone-ode-to-trolls-extrapolated-ii/
syncopation Oct 2018
That’s what it felt like when we lost you
To the complex maze that became your truth.
A self-enlightened mind
Impermeable to light, to touch, to time.
An inner sanctum of make-believe so outrageous, so utterly unbelievable
Made of illogical truths only you sought achievable.

What led you to this I can only hazard a guess
Was it divorce, insecurity, a lifetime feeling like you were less.
Why has it come out now when time has already been the test
Was it the lack of medication, a lack of rest.

My brother you are wounded.
Your mind an open sore.
Rest your weary soul.
Torture and pain no more.
Ellie Grace Sep 2018
Incapable of making the distinction
between illogical and logical
The two entwined together
Bound by so many threads
Akira Chinen Aug 2018
it is in the language
of the stars
and the secrets
of the leafs
it is the smile
and laughter of children

it is a tear blooming
into an ocean
it is the lost sands
stranded on the shores
that time has forgotten
it is the infinte sorry
only eternity can hold

it is a blanket of forgiveness
warming the beds of sin
it is the lips
and the color
of a first kiss
it is the serenity
of a dying breath

it is the birth and life
and beauty of love
it is loves lust
and desires prayers

it is yesterday's tomorrow
and todays yesterdary
it is the here
and the now

it is the air in our lungs
and the song of our hearts
it is the blood and marrow
of our souls

poetry is in everything
and everything is poetry

poetry holds onto
what death takes away
so we will know
that no matter how long we live

life

is always
too short

so always remember
do not squander this gift away
this may be
your once in a lifetime life
this could be the only
heaven you walk through
the only hell you suffer in


poetry does not lie

so in no circumstance


ever


lie to poetry

poets however will lie
almost always
except for the ones who don't  
they always tell the truth
the devil cheats at dice
and every other game he plays
and even angels can decive
be careful in who you belive

always be kind
hug daily and often
love who you love
no matter the odds
or situation
or how ridiculous
or improbable
or illogical it may seem

break the rules
when you must
trust your gut
and belive in your heart

it may not work out in your favor
it may break you
and if it does
it will feel terribly unbearable
but you will get through it

eventually

it will not always seem fair
it will not always feel good
but in the end

love

is what will make it
look beautiful
when you take
your last look back
at the life
that no matter how long it was
will have been too short
Marta Nov 2018
My mind is under attack

A tumour in the grey matter
creates connections where there should not be any
destroys the paths that define who I am

The person I was
dissolves in front of my terrified family

It is so hard to hold on to who I was

I feel more peaceful when
I transform into an illogical mess of a being

A part of me still knows that this creature
is me

The same me in a different brain

And that me finds the courage
To forgive the mess
And love myself
As I am
As I end
in this city there is intense
kindness,
friendly, charming,
but nothing behind the eyes.
the mask of sanity
slips

slips

something terrible
comes a calling,
there was a ringing in my blood,
maybe I should go a-killing,
you look lovely choking
on your tongue,

you are evil.
in this town,
you must do evil
but softy,
secretly
-caress your lover
then stab the *****,

pain is intellectual,
the superior modus operandi
to happiness,
only evil is worth the time.

an accident happened,
the neighbour is dead,
let's go outside

all at once

and watch
and watch

you are stuck in the machinery,
in this city,
we watch as your body
mutilates,
mutates

into god.

in the city
there is eternal happiness,
serene, perfect bliss

your children grow like guileless
psychopaths,
they drink in the
light of
your deformed god,

praise violence secretly,
praise despair
when mourning
happiness,
for too much of it
and you might
as well swing from ropes,

in the city though,
the tourist comes
to see eden at last,
here the dallying,
here the breathing,
synchronized in our
gentleness,
never knowing of
war, famine,
hunger,

we **** ourselves with smiles,

the joy
of successful sacrifice,

I cannot do it justice
this city,
this beauty
iridescent and benign,
the cup of elixir,
weeping mystics
bow in reverence,
pious housewives
turn to the saints
adorning the doors of our households,
and at night the
wife does not slam doors,
she opens them
and sits on her own accord,
and the husband does not drink
he eats the food of the lord,
and does not throw plates,
and the children are beautiful cherubs,
they sing of heaven,
and water the plants with their tears,

the table is ready,
let us feast upon the idiosyncrasy of our
ignorance,

in the city there
is but one flaw,
there is child who weeps for pain,
he is half starved,
illiterate,
mumbling,
***** matter covers him,
his gangly arms
ripping at the bread,
his eyes droop and
are shadowed by
idiocy,
he urinates upon himself,
and eats
at his hand
when dinner is not given,
he stares at walls,
and his skin is littered with lice,
absent mindedly he scratches
until blood is drawn
and licks it in thirst
- he was never taught
better,


but the happiness
of the city depends upon the child,
the suffering of one
for the betterment of
a million others,
the experts say
it is illogical
to sacrifice all
for the improvement of
one, who
has no chance of
regular function,

he is but a child,
but he is the child of the city,
and his pain feeds
our happiness,
his gentle cries
for his mother
rest upon our dinner
tables,
and make us salivate,

he is our child,
nameless yes,
but he is so wonderfully delicious,
his flesh
squelching under
the brute force
of crowbars --our salvation,

but in this city
there is no guilt,
we fatten our children
for strong futures,
we do not shake our
babies,

for we love to shake our boy
when he cries,
and hit him and

watch

as they beat him

such beauty
such beauty

tears spring to the eyes.


for we know the child
must be there,
the happiness that
radiates through the
city
depend upon his
jutting bones,
in his misery
lies the knowledge of our
scholars,
the cures to our diseases,
the terrible
justice of our boon,

but some
when they are brought
to the room
of the boy,
simply look,
and go sit under a brook
for a minute
then they get up and

and

walk away

from this city of stardust
and fairytales,
and eternal sunshine,
where they go,
no one knows the better,
maybe someplace far
far more lovely,
maybe someplace wretched,
it is possible they cease to exist
for they never come back...

this city,
this city

is beautiful

but if I told you about it
you wouldn't believe me, would you?
rosie Dec 2018
it hurts
they don't tell you that it hurts.
that your chest gets too tight and aches, and your lungs gasp and scream for air while your throat stings, and your eyes swell and burn from scalding tears that you can't stop no matter how much you want to.

they don't tell you that all your muscles scream the next day from tensing up.
they don't tell you that there's no way to stop them.
they don't tell you that they don't just affect your body.
they overtake your mind.
every illogical fear, every small worry, magnified until they've grown into a monolith of overwhelming panic crushing you under its weight.

no. they dont tell you any of that at all.

why don't they tell you any of that at all?

it's heavy.
it weighs so heavily on you all day.
there's pain in your heart as soon as you awake from fitful and restless sleep.
you know it's coming most of the time.
you can feel it in the uneasy heartbeats just a little too fast, the little stressors seeming bigger than they should.
it does so much damage; big, heavy panic.
destroys you while it's there, and most of the time after it goes away, too.
i've been dealing with panic attacks, so here's a little glimpse. thank you to any readers **
melissa rose Jan 11
We suffer at the hands of the illogical mind
as intrusive thoughts steal time
creating the illusion that we are not
when what we are is the perfection
of everything we so desperately sought

The vanity of human desire runs deep
the price of greed and envy are steep
bliss, love and joy are unattainable
unless we trust in our hearts’ wisdom
this human condition is inescapable
1/11/19
Kush Oct 2018
In my spare time I look for quotes,
Words truly worthy of note.
Love is where i land,
Looking for thoughts with an outreaching hand
To tell me I'm not alone.

I think hard and fall deep
As i stare at these words,
Envisioning what they speak.

"I'll tell you what love is," they say.
I agree in a way.
But it always leaves me running through a Labyrinth in my mind,
Searching for the love that I wish to find.

What do I want that's worthy of note,
That someone will someday see,
And feel the emotion in what I've wrote?

"Love is stupid. It's illogical. It's broken. Yet somehow it's the most fulfilling feeling there is. Love is when a smile is enough, and you'd do anything for it."
writerReader Aug 2018
Every day I see this guy pass by my door,
he never steps off the path.
His hair speaks of his woe.
His steel eyes arrange the sky into a box,
the blue is not enough to keep him idle,
he requires the chains of logic.
It keeps him grounded when he could be flying.

“Why should I fly,” he says,
“It’s much too cold for me anyway.”
“Wear a jacket” I might declare.
He would reply, “I don’t wish to sweat through
my sensible clothes.”
(Only twenty dollars on sale.)

He is much too sensible to be any fun,
but fun is not all there is.
“There is science” he would suggest
If we ever were to talk,
I know he would be an excellent conversationalist

His dusty shoes tell of his wariness,
His jacket of his adventures.
(He keeps dust on his clothes to speak for his cleverness.)

“Conversation is for the simple-minded,” he would say.
“I prefer books,” would be my reply.

He would have nothing to say then,
(He doesn’t like conversation anyway.)
but he’d be too logical to let me know
Of his human blunder and illogical flash.
So he spoke to me of his action figure collection.
(“Most extensive, I’m sure”)
Donall Dempsey Aug 2018
MY FAVOURITE STAR TREK EPISODE

Here
in this constellation

of a kitchen
that exists

only in its own
long ago

I create
worlds

bravely going
where every boy

has gone before

the clothes horse
becoming my Starship Enterprise

clothes turn into
Klingons

the roar of the range
my engines

that "canna take it Capn'!"

the whistle of a kettle
enemy fire on my starboard bow

whilst in the other dimension
of an attic

my mother misses her step
as first one leg and

then another
crashes through

the ceiling
Warp Factor 9

plaster and debris
attacking my clothes horse Enterprise

as her yelp
of help

opens on
all channels

and me Da
quick as Mr. Spock

rescue her
just as

Star Trek
begins

on our little
black & white

T.V.
How...

...illogical?
Chantal Jul 2018
This is the sign you’ve been looking for.
So live darling. Live reckless and brazen. Don’t you dare hide how you feel & never try to meet the set standards.  Don’t think, just do. Forget how it’s ‘supposed’ to go, and all that could go wrong. Disregard all the illogical cause and effects Society determines. Ignore the 99% likely outcome and go after that 1% with everything you’ve got, kid. ‘Cause if something or someone makes you happy or gives you a sorta feeling you can’t explain, even if it’s just for a little while- ignore all the ‘advice’ & the whole doing the ‘right’ thing, and hold on to it till your lungs give out, regardless of what form you get it in. Here’s the truth darling; life’s too short for norms and logic. Too short to hide your feelings and god knows, way too short to spend even a second unhappy & restrained due to fear and the abstract ideas that things are meant to go a certain way. So if you love someone, scream it at the top of your lungs, and if you feel like crying, collapse and shatter. Live impulsively because there’s nothing purer than the desires of the heart.
-c.j.m
Graff1980 Dec 2018
It bothers me
to want anything
unnecessary.

Desire seems
to be
compulsory
due to my
humanity,

a built in
glitch
in the
system.

I want
games, and
new clothing.

It is illogical,
wasteful
when pleasures
can be gain
freely.

Nature is open
to me.
The library
has all I can read
like a literary
all I can eat
word buffet
which is
intellectually sweet.

Then there is
the wanting
of someone
who is
unhealthy
for me.

Like a disease,
dangerous
and exhausting
costing
my sanity.

It bothers me
to have this
desire leash
tugged regularly,

but I know
with certainty
the only time
I will desire
nothing
will be
when death
takes me.

So, what
am I to do?
~for Wendy ~

with my almost two years old poetry advisor,
who loves her Sunday rituals, an extra sabbath,
of waffles and Shrek, kid’s gym and artistic endeavors,
cozying up with Nana and siblings in a big old bed,
snacking and chewing on the good silk sheets

as always, she and and I go off to have an intellectual conversation,
letting the older ones to do kid stuff, while we converse and debate
topics of nature vs. nurture, the weather vs. climate change,
and the future of everything, unbeknownst to everyone else

which is greater, love or honor, she inquires,
sensing my thoughts are preoccupied with matters of honor...
as she strokes my itchy, scratchy day old face,
insuring her having my full attention, while
taking advantage of my loving weakness

grandpa:
honor over everything my opening gambit,
while she coyly harrumphs in response,
one can love without reason for such are
our natural souls programmed,
but honor needs concentration and contemplation,
and if done right,
then love will surely follow!

She-Woman:
ah ha! once again you sidle up to nurture,
cause love is too inexplicable,
old man, old man, did I not love you before
any season of reason crossed my brow,
and my vocabulary consisted of just
more, no, toy and hungry

what did I know of Aristotle, logic, codes of conduct,
the definition of honor yet abstract,
while love is nature’s illogical construct,
coming first without restrictions,
while honor is malleable and
property of the eye of the beholder

grandpa:
wise beyond your tears, you are, and unquestionably correct,
but while coming first, love cannot last,
until cover-coated with honor,
for honor gives us the because, and locks down the why,
honor gives the insight, the rationale, the rules of how to say
yes and no, when love is tendered and an R.S.V.P. is requested

She-Woman:
absent experience, for now will concede,
but be warned this is not over,
fo you have not brought me a definition of what truly honor be

grandpa:
honor is the housing of love, and though you granted me your favor,
comes the day that you will demand proofs that
what was unearthed & unearned
is now earned, a course in credit, a baccalaureate in life’s lanes,
when to heed them, when to crossover, when to say I do, I do,
no to someone else alone, and yes to your honorable self

She-Woman:
adult double speak, I suspect, and you will rue the day
when forced to concede, with a wrenched
‘child, I do not know,’
meanwhile change my diaper
after I karate chop your knee

Grandpa:
yes child, but know,  two of your requests/notifications are
honorable acts and/know real love can be ONLY be exchanged
tween honorable humans
see photo for her  in position preparing to strike

3/3/19 9:45 am
Penne Feb 10
I know
I know what is right from wrong
But I do not know why I keep doing it for so long
For the millionth time
I know

Why do you do it too
If you know that it is wrong
'Cause it is what everybody does?
I have eyes too
I can imitate that
I can reciprocate all that
Future generations can

We are fine not changing this rotten world
We are fine following the crowd
We are fine living in these dying cerebrums

Blame me
For my cowardice
For I am an absolutist
Love the subtlety
If I am fighting for something
I should not be hiding behind my screens

I know
I am illogical
Out of my head
But re-check yourself if you had one too

I know
We are all humans
And I honestly hate that philosophy
Since all we do is escape that futility
And choose social mutiny
Desenthesize us, realists and freaks' mentality
Instead of unity
Please, more fatalities

But it feels good, right?
To let yourself in irrationality
Since this is not pretty
So is reality
Especially when they desire change
But on the inside, they are afraid
I know
Art cannot be political

To fight against the atmosphere
I know
You have all the time in your life
To sin, then regret
Mistakes flow me!
And may regret do the same thing

I know
I know

But before you point your finger
Why not point yourself too

It feels good to be wrong (but not right)
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