"incognizant" poems
Incognizant of the excrement,
I'm the dozing tenant of advertised adversity.
I ignore the fact that the world now is like a toilet,
And I avoid it, I avoid it, I avoid it.
Boy, did you get exploited?
How could we know we're
No more than numerical exponents?
Can consolation prizes console him?
We're not aware of the ventriloquists
Or their true motives.
Popular perfume conceals
The stench from the load of,
Finite excrement that
The suited men sold us.
They told us that it would be beneficial,
Not an imposition on our self-image,
Pinocchio before he found
Out he was artificial.
Is the American Dream a reality?
Why did I hear a dissenter
Say it was superficial?
We must have missed something,
We see no issues.
Meanwhile, my Uncle Sam designated
You as the mental missile.
Originally written 5/25/11
Revised 10/15/14
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 11:26 AM UTC
Because beauty lies in minerals and chalk,
and outlandish tinctures remedy physical faults
with pastes and goo,
the daily ritual of painting flesh,
disguising ourselves from a social stigma,
compels and consumes us
Obsession over minute details,
driven by the incessant narcissism
of a portentous society,
coerces us into proclivity,
so that each day we worship a virtual image,
mere reflected light
Because of all the reticulated bones and fat and blood,
sustaining life-functions and supporting the capability intelligence
which we rarely take steps to refine,
and of the independent, incognizant cells,
working ensemble circuitously,
the web which imprisons it all is most beautiful.
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 9:37 PM UTC
Awakened by the summons
Of the moon, he wanders.
His eyes, vaguely responsive
To light fluctuations; and
He often weeps when dishes are washed.
He calls my daughter, ‘David’ or
Simply barks at her.
At midday he routinely gathers
All family photos, stacks in towers.
He interchanges tasks of the dinner table
And the bathroom, incognizant.
The cat seeks him out and
They seem to find comfort together.
We keep mittens on his hands;
For, without them, he’s prone to
Bore holes to the bone.
When outside, he’ll rush toward the maple;
Embrace it, like Mom, and cry.
On Sunday mornings we have come to expect:
A laundry basket prepared, by him,
Brimming with loose crackers, milk, cheese,
Broken eggs and cat litter.
He creates knotted chains with his shirts;
Laughs, hysterically at the sound of the vacuum;
Sings, ‘In The Garden’, whenever it rains.
While, for years now, I have prayed
That this is solely dormancy;
And someday, he will be full again.
I solemnly wish that I had no memories of him;
This would make my love for him less complicated.
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 9:14 AM UTC
A final blow
It ceased the noise
Sent ripples through the calmness
It sent away
What could have been
But ne'er had chance to happen
Now endless nights
And many a drink
Have led to only heartaches
Echos, they ring
Cries, they sing
But sorrow is incognizant
Ceaseless murmers
They'll never silence
They haunt my restless sleep
They have no heart
No soul, no feelings
They'll gain no pleasure greater
That's when I fade
Out, and away
Cast into the shadows of life
The mental zodiac
Infecting the mind
Burning it up with toil
Work and wonder
Mix, twist, plunge
Down and in through darkness
Brown and green
Blended with red
Sepia bleeds throughout
Now drowned in blue
Colors blend
Feelings mingle
Equivalents were hidden
Now dug up, resurfaced
Brought into life
Once again
Winds meet
Clouds part
Opening chance
What never had grace to pardon
Has now cleared the air
I can see
What left a hole
A gap in deep dark valleys
Now left alone
I wander the world
Stranded within the forest
Jun 21, 2010
Jun 21, 2010 at 10:35 AM UTC
Life came,
It’s own purpose a mystery,
But I saw green leaves
And I felt the magic of soft days;
I shouted my song of happiness,
And in a sentimental movie,
I discovered my meaning.
I charged the earthquake,
Flattened the riot, plugged the volcano.
Life hung back, just out of sight,
Not caring whether my effort
Was indolent or right.
Then life confessed itself,
Dragging me through the muddy streets,
And just as I found it too much to bear,
Just as I came to know life, the predator,
And began to grieve my sentence,
Life showed me more sentimental theater
And I cried for myself,
And imagined truth and independence.
But life, incognizant, came again to the gate;
It mired me in the doorway of my opportunity,
It starved my children
And ignored my dire straits.
I was a prisoner in it.
Then I discovered life thriving
In burrowing beetles and worms,
As happy there as in me.
But I had lived out my screenplay;
I praised the author, and died earnestly.
Mar 31, 2011
Mar 31, 2011 at 5:44 AM UTC
Here I sit
In the prison-cell inside
My body and my mind are at constant odds
In a struggle to the death
Always fighting, beating and crippling; never admitting that they need one another to survive
I await with horror and dread as pieces of me duke it out
Incognizant as to which one will retire first
leaving what remains flimsy and broken
Unable to resist the great plunge
Straight into a hospital or maybe the morgue
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 3:20 AM UTC
The dead poet rises instinctively
to speak verse, free of mind
let the heart & soul do the talking
while society remains incognizant
un entranced by the eternal beauty
of the Earths sweet marrow.
Fall amongst the Autumn leaves
to procure the streams malignancy
for Winter is well on it's way
to isolate us from the tradition
of rising with the sun at dawn
and sleeping with the precious stars
that guide us gently through our dreams.
Jul 4, 2010
Jul 4, 2010 at 3:45 AM UTC
The oblivious night in need of salvation
The moon emits love to the night’s unaware starvation
We the stars, reflect that love in our light
An outlet of faith to the incognizant night
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 9:47 AM UTC
We Lost,
are children now—
though we aged quickly
to become loveless, depressed, and
sighing.
Lying
a moment next to you
incognizant, impressed, reminiscing,
forever Immature.
Simple, damp hair down,
resting on my face, loved;
true eyes emoting.
Calm cinnamon lips
kiss my heart, (beating inward)
my life, to die slow.
Gentle
is the lover
who dies to spring more love
and kiss soft upon the shoulder.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
"Unprepared I wondered into her burrow,
My endeavors were useless as her beauty,
Plod into my conscience,
Aghast at what in your beauty I might find,
I couldn’t resist in going and touching her near,
If she were to resist what would I do in interim,
The closer I had gotten the more she toiled my soul,
It is as if I had entered a dream and wit not to awake,
Than finally adjacent deliquesced in each other’s embrace,
Free from iniquity I gave myself deluded to her,
An archipelago had opened before with her tenderness.
No longer live in dark places as she has brightened all,
Illuminating my soul with each one of her embraces,
A heart once cold and cruor with such from melancholy,
My only assuagement bad anamnesis gone from mind
For she comes to me in a mystifying incognizant way”
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 4:42 PM UTC
Thanks for telling me i am not perfect,
well noone is.
Thanks for making me cry,
well the sky does it too.
Thanks for the cherishing reveries in the past,
well i am slaked now
Thanks for leaving me without batting an eye,
well i was incognizant
But,
Thanks for making me smile endlessly
even if you are the reason for my current misery
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 10:53 AM UTC
How droll that we allow others to deliver us a sense of security
When, as humans, we are impossibly reckless
And uncontrollably incognizant
Eyes like lovat, hands like silk
A smile like opulence, a heart like marble
Do not a home make
Things so amorphous in already haphazard lives
Leads to chaos and catastrophe
Inevitably leaving behind pieces of ourselves
Scattered around to reconstruct on our own
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 9:01 PM UTC
Is this how analogous life is across the world?
devoid of food,
fear of death,
breathing underground;
shielding from doom.
While all, around the world,
relish the congenial sunshine;
they spot smoke & dust rising from the ground above,
engendering the ruckus of ravagement,
masking the sun from shining on them.
“All lives matter”?
they ask-
aren’t our lives worth the consideration?
Aren’t the massacre of our kids worth your attention?
The declension of our voice as humans,
as we scream for help with nothing but tears & blood,
a day without destruction,
a day without the loss of dear ones,
is a tad too much to ask?
Everyone deserves to be happy,
to cherish good times with their beloved,
to grin,
to bellow.
Why is there no limit to the agony,
despairs at the hands of diplomacies,
whilst justice is buried deep in the genocide,
joy in pieces,
the incognizant clamors-
humanity has condoned our own kind &
love towards innocence has turned blind.
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 6:33 PM UTC
I do not bewail the transient era that is youth.
For in it, I was blind to the grandeur that is life.
I was ignorant to love,
and incognizant to its importance.
Beholden to no strength,
nor wisdom, nor virtue,
I possessed no constitution that would urge nor encourage me to continue to love,
even in the depths of love's absence.
My existence bore no understanding of the gravity of human life,
the influence of trust,
nor the sageness of compassion.
Tomorrow was assumed to be guaranteed
and there was no urgency to my short time alive.
All that was before mine eyes,
the air in my lungs,
those who stood beside me and those now gone,
were all taken for granted.
Tonight, these hot sea winds blow the amber coals of my cigarette back upon my face as unwelcomingly as the unwanted memories of my imbecilic youth.
It miss it not.
Let the clock spin.
Bring me those ephemeral decades,
for they only make the wine taste sweeter.
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 5:12 AM UTC