"inessential" poems
Be wary of the
paradoxical, neglected sentience among the departed minds
Seek the route which makes accessible...an absolute truth
oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, calcium, nitrogen, phosphorus
The composition of life
The creation of awareness, drifting from your nature
live irresponsibly, expose the fear to danger
it will devour the inessential anxiousness
and set yourself free
release from obligation,
release from routine duties
the masquerade of conditioning
no longer possessing you
bare spirit,
confront yourself
See the illusion, its deception
of your perception
remove the veil and feel
intensified anguish of the acknowledgment
of authorities dominance
to invent and forge manufactured minds
to divide us, impregnate the beauty
with depraved psychosis
then label it with sanity
taint them with vanity
to take the present moment
as an opportunity to breathe
here and now, everlasting liberation
reality, what is sincere?
What is truth?
It’s an option you determine
sight, holy sight
creating this world, this dread
this opportunity to break loose
undress and **** the reality in camouflage
reborn through a perceptual experience
the wilderness is within
the blinking 4th dimension
will soon carry us away
to an enigmatic change in sensory perception
the ego, self importance, it will pass away
is there a choice, a selection of setting?
When you zoom out of earth
examine closely the size of this
universe, we are microscopic babies
from the womb of infinite mystery
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 4:10 PM UTC
And the emptiness now
lets the memory howl
and bang its head
off the sheer walls of never—
Engulfed in consequence as it rolls in
fog or smoke?
In any case—
lonely
looks like this--
numb and cool and slow-moving
grayish-white fingers
reaching for molecules of air
while the reign of suffering comes like fine drizzle
over
springtime over....
Desire perishing in a crisis of will
In the thickets of panic—
bronchial spasms expand seconds
at an open window
Choking, congestive, failure of heart!
in the face of what it means to be...
not being
...as I came into this world
breach and not breathing
to my mother’s horror!
Alone
Scrapping, gasping, grappling for breath
I love life
I LOVE-- life!
Love—
inexpressible, inessential fool of a child
Love ripped apart at the v
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 8:50 PM UTC
Corrupted human beings saunter our streets
Consisting of nothing but absurd hostility
Consumed with bias and a mind confined
It seems to be
That you misconceived
The purpose of this viability.
Hate, steal, **** fight
Living a life of polluted spite.
Nothing but blemishes in society
Simply blind to the basic factors of psychiatry.
The human mind was composed to connect
Composed to detect
Love, companionship, intellect.
We clench the power to do so much more,
Relax your fist and allow your speculations to pour.
Inessential anger increases inside
what used to be a selfless kind.
A kind who shared, one who cared.
Who built companions up and helped them grow.
Now there's egotistical maniacs, count them by the rows.
They see others as files, humans they dispose.
Follow the leader, that's a game they like to play.
Think for yourself, our brains weren't made to think this way.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC
In the grander scheme of all things in this world my worries seem so..... inessential or small, almost foolish and self involved.
My sufferings are no more extraordinary then those of a stranger, but I feel like I am being whipped around inside a monsoon of sadness, while nothing gets resolved.
I can't let myself burden others with the sorrow I tightly lock away,so I shut myself inside my head and face them all alone.
I conceal my angst, and if I continue to wear a smile the truth will be safe behind my magnificent wall of stone.
I feel like I'm going insane, I can't find the words to articulate the chaos that is dominating my mind.
Each time I find the courage to try and open up fear pulls me back, all the while it is boasting ...."relief you shall not find".
The fear of what they will think if I lay it all out and let them pick thru the horrid memories that I have hidden away.
Will they bother to try and understand the real me, will they still love me unconditionally, but more so will they even stay?
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 6:44 AM UTC
There's something I desire like
Dripped honey on strawberrys
It's scent delicate and ravishing
We are the universal harmony
Through which human warmth
Survives hidden from cosmic wind
Celestial incantations float airily
Beyond everything inessential
Being joyful of the incidential
And we should treasure each sip
Thoughts running in time like grass
Reflecting lifes own peace endlessly
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 4:07 PM UTC
I discovered a new part of me.
A part that loved mornings
and that found beauty in my surroundings.
A part that enjoyed watching sunsets
and romanticizing a simple stroll through the park.
A part that believed in positivity
and finding the good in everyone.
But that part of me is no longer here.
It disappeared around the same time you did.
All I could think of is getting you back,
of getting that part of me back from you,
so I could be complete again.
Until I realized you did not take that part with you,
you did not take anything.
That part of me was hidden,
because you taught me how to love everything,
but myself.
Four years later and I realize
I have nothing to thank you for.
I found myself with you, and found myself again without you.
In the end, you made no difference.
You were not and never will be essential to my life,
for I do not only love mornings and my surroundings anymore,
I now love myself
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 1:36 PM UTC
I have mere recollections of
******* cocktails being served
Under the starless sky
Because the stars allure the poets
And the poets mistake them for shooting stars
Another thing I'm reminded of is
Envelopes with pink and gold glitter dust
It's better to keep them untouched
Because touching them means food for thought
And food for thought is mistaken for inessential complexity
The last thing that comes to my mind
are the old chandliers in the hallway
And it's better to not look up while walking
Because blinding light would result in a catastrophe
And a catastrophe would restrict my recollections to these few elements
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 12:27 PM UTC
This holographic poem
Was written by the personated tree
That reminds me of you
For although I may lack the valour
To emancipate your battered heart
I'm hoping this far-flung poem
Not to be mistaken for amatory
But rather a gift
From the stairs
That take comfort in the echo
Of your whispered secrets
This inessential concoction
Of words has been formed
By the stand-still bench
Trapped in the memory of you
This incongruous composition
Of cluttered abstractions
Was conjured up by the
Missing skin on your wrists
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 5:00 PM UTC
she is much less than necessary
laying in the dark, she is
replaying dreams and conversations
she remembers from 2008,
each clueing her in on why
this cycle began in the first place
she is much less than a necessity
and every once in a while,
when she becomes suddenly
and urgently in demand,
she is there
and she is his
but she is much less than crucial
the cycle she is living in
is made up of worrying
and waiting and tapping
her foot and holding
her breath
and then--
she is relieved for a moment,
maybe two, because for that
short amount of time,
she is indispensible--
and then suddenly she is
worrying, waiting,
scratching at her knuckles
and running out of air
she is much less than necessary
she is much less than important
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
Oh, i hate so much the noise,
the slamming of doors and
the cracking of bones.
The disturbance of air
caused by inessential cries,
disdainful sighs,
treachereous lies.
The purpose of many
are useless talks,
which poison thoughtful minds.
Only scratches of scribbles,
forging silence of words,
which sound so much tenderly clear,
than insipid shouts
are dear to my ears
and eyes.
Couplets and couplets -
my lifesaving droplets,
that heal me of noisy venom.
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 5:23 AM UTC
August 11th
How am I so smart to endure my head's turns or locks inside a box.
With some worth forgetting.
My erecting
inessential to come, we've all waited.
The diet of cowards.
The invisible exercises in...
New Guinea
New York
Japan
France
Gaining
Exonerated
Senators.
Wives.
Daughters.
Over years or weeks.
A lot to hold in. I'm here.
A lot to hold on to.
A pint.
Three.
Jigger.
Fly into roses, Broken Wing Heartache.
Later on...
It is only one small amount of sweat.
A pool filling and shifting with each of my breast's breaths.
Now maybe I can tell myself why I care.
It is you.
A leg paler.
A chipped smile.
A new thing with nothing shamed.
Time for a movie.
A bright future.
Fuzzy dream.
Picture you and I waking.
Picture the naked light.
Witness your hollows.
Amount short.
Void transaction.
Pay once.
Enter the transaction void.
Two beers and one or just one shot of one fifty one later...
Do the days go by and call your name?
No they don't register a mood.
A look see.
A look see reveals all of these new found memories.
But our memory is low and hazy.
Baby.
Oh beautiful showmanship, tell me...
Of love.
Of youth.
Of my eyes.
My hair.
My unbroken bones.
My perfect *****
My golden hair.
My tan.
My ability to hold and stay
not too warm or dry
not too cold or wet.
Your tomb.
Undisturbed.
And now I wait.
For you to warm.
Oh it is you.
Only you.
I will recite also.
In regrets of my open heart.
Strange that father holds his chest in staples later than I.
I spoke of you.
To blood ancient and blood to see.
You know.
Or you don't.
I.
Here in new clothes.
Waiting beside the museum.
Under the cold window.
For you to interfere.
As close as I am.
And then you apperceive.
Love.
You appear love.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 9:04 PM UTC
People are flies today.
They swarm and buzz
and get in my mouth and nose.
They're like cigarettes
or biscuits -
Hard to quit -
inessential -
I have to try it.
People are everywhere.
Get out of my hair.
I retreat to my private lair,
not a care in the world
but loneliness.
People are like a cheese board.
They make me dream,
something else about biscuits
and go well with a few glasses of red wine.
So many cheeses to choose from
and not one of them is mine.
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 9:49 AM UTC
The moon phase rises over the naked city,
the inessential buildings soon just become nothing.
She walks the street with a beat in her step.
Hands cut from the rose thorns,
petals falling,
flowers dying.
She felt happy.
But misery laid nothing more less to the flowers.
Amongst the footsteps the cries could be heard.
The naked city wanted nothing more than to cover itself.
To hide behind plain sight.
It no longer wanted to be the city that filled everyone’s dreams,
the city that never slept.
It just lured for some time to shut it’s eyes,
to be nothing to this world.
To sleep.
The naked city was raw,
beautiful at most.
It had a unique glow,
kind of like the Moon.
It would just turn on and light up everyone’s night.
Make them want to write about it,
dine out.
Have the light gaze down on them.
It was somewhat.. magical.
Feb 13, 2020
Feb 13, 2020 at 7:56 AM UTC
Its true, a poet is a spiteful man
with inessential worries,
who gambles words,
to clutter minds with fabricated stories.
His job is simple, so banal -
to cheat imagination,
to design and conjure phrases,
that are prone to alteration.
His words are quite speedy,
born at the edge of ideas,
where feelings fall onto abyss
and walk on the boundaries of what's real, chased by dimming hopes and fears.
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 10:27 PM UTC
ask now my father if it still believes the present to be the future of a past life.
ask then if it unscrewed one day each inessential light bulb that my party would have balloons.
-
violence in movies. also, food. my mistake. I glue myself
to nothing. my shyness
-
is kind of
my angel.
-
the body invents the soul it recalls.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
Be at ease,
Bend with the breeze.
The tall fall
Bigger chances higher
Target clearer
Unlearn core
Hacking the inessential
Meandering Mess
Shortest distance
common sense
Between points
A straight line
Feb 11, 2021
Feb 11, 2021 at 11:09 PM UTC