"interconnectedness" poems
We might be known for our glorified past,
How we went out and played real games outside.
And then time just flew so fast,
There are a lot of things, now, we can’t ride.
We grew up knowing society had rules.
TV said to study, go to college, and live happily.
But what unfolded before us is kinda rude,
A painful slap of some dose of a new bossoming reality.
As every generation may argue,
Ours may claim to be really confused.
Memories of bike rides and skies of different hues,
Rapidly changed by virtual abuse.
We still try to live authentic though,
Thinking wishfully that we can escape the Net.
Go to places, do things, go back and forth,
Brushing off every little regret.
But ***** we actually fooling?
The Net is inescapable,
Lose interconnectedness and you’ll cease existing,
A feeling that is plain horrible.
We’ll figure this out someday,
That’s what we tell ourselves,
But as we live each day,
We acknowledge that a little help wouldn’t hurt.
Dec 27, 2015
Dec 27, 2015 at 6:52 AM UTC
In symmetry
and colors
a notable image..
meditative model
Hubble finding
in night sky
light years
from here
and Now..
***Science musings:
How created..?***
A creator or
creation..?
***A centered aging
binary system..?***
Polarity energy
says it all..?
The unusual shape?
Sacred geometry
expresses itself..?
A definite torus..
All Reality
and Consciousness
expressed as Torus..?
***Boundaries of cones
form an X..?***
Creation of symmetry
interconnectedness
recognized..?
***Why unusual colors
Red and Blue..?***
Left and Right
Male and Female
oppositions prevail..?
***As hydrocarbon molecules
colors building blocks
for organic life..?***
Center Light transforming
to component colors..?
***In a few million years
the Red Rectangle nebula
will probably bloom
into a planetary
nebula..***
New birth
Now announced...?
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 3:14 PM UTC
I'm lying here with the light on. The fan is set on speed 3, and it's pointed directly on me. Social networks dance on my computer screen. Faces of people, some of whom I've never met, spout endless minutia. So do I. We'd like to think that all of this is bring us closer to one another, but that is anything but the truth. This faux interconnectedness is just another way to live together, alone. These pills are beginning to take hold. My mouth is dry, and not even the coldest, clearest water can quench it. Sometimes I equate staying up that one last hour with having that one last drink. It's the one that always kills you in the morning.
It's 4:45 AM, and my alarm is set for noon.
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 1:53 AM UTC
They had begun to question consciousness,
turning solid matter into fuzziness in their brains,
rendering not atoms, nor photons, nor particles,
only cold energy, halucenogenic stardust joints.
For the exclusionary few to whom the material
had never meant **** to a tree or a **** to a rabbit,
it was the cash-cow of quantum reality,
ambiguous poetry for a Beat Generation,
Uncertainty in free verse chapbooks.
So they wrote of our interconnectedness ---
the Ginsbergs, the Levertovs, the Ferlinghettis ---
till the gravity of space-mind curved imagination,
a nation falling unheard without a whimper in the forest.
Feb 22, 2012
Feb 22, 2012 at 1:58 PM UTC
With QE there is a
Spookiness factor
According to Einstein
When we take two electrons that are proximate
Their actions mirror each other
When we separate those two electrons at massive distances
And we change the spin on one
We get instantaneous change on the other
No time lag
Through these experiments it has been suggested that
If there is an unseen mechanism communicating between the two particles
Then it would have to be traveling at 10,000 times the speed of light
Interconnectedness?
I think our quanta are entangled
The physical laws of the universe
As seen through Newtonian mechanics
Have been useful
They are rational and make sense when matched with the correct scale
However, as we approach the very small, the very large, and the infinite
Newtonian laws fall away
Some might even see it as rationality falling away
That’s what Einstein suggested
I see it otherwise
Join me down the rabbit hole?
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 8:03 AM UTC
Land-mark times of
uncertainty and imbalance, new
paradigms for hearts and minds,
flowers growing through stone cracks,
unconscious becoming conscious,
interconnectedness
between pieces of this cosmic puzzle, where
God means the Wisdom of simplicity in
human untapped depths of wisdom, fear
as a primal universal human reality
on the edge of extinction and breakthrough
power to change the outcome
the synchronization of the nature and the existence,
time of unspeakable intensity,
human awaking,
the higher and the deeper dimension of being,
Black Road or Xibalba Be,
energy shifts,
day in its sacred Zero point,
mass ejections shooting highly,
nuclear bulge of the Milky Way,
huge waves,
cosmic alarm clock ringing in human psyche,
time of change
leaving seeds for the future,
spiral evolution,
being in-between two important seconds
with minds founded in duality,
teetering between the
extremes of extinction and illumination...
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 8:23 PM UTC
Have you ever heard those flat harmonies of death, where operatic assertions resound throughout damp and ancient crypts of macabre folklore?
Time is slowly running out, and the flame of life is flickering in the winds of captivating finality.
Although haunting screams are like echoes which transcend fatty spreads of digestive mediocrity, the stalagmites and stalactites of gothic caverns display their ***** features which defy rational explanation.
Feel the depths of soulless forests as they chant messages of reconciliation amidst tangled weeds and branches of self-stimulation.
Amitriptyline can facilitate sleep at the end of an indulgent evening.
S
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
What if you discovered that the puppet master was just a tangle of other puppets...
Interconnectedness is paramount to who we are, to life itself
To get loose is not to get free -- to get free is to love the strings you keep
Aug 3, 2021
Aug 3, 2021 at 9:03 PM UTC
Not all tree roots
need to be long or thick
to be strong mighty ever lasting.
trancending time and space
The strongest tallest trees
have SHORT roots tightly close interconnectedly
with many tree roots
by one amazing fact
being rooted from underneath very close to one another
Huddled in short proximity
it's how the strongest tallest trees thrive stronger live longer.
across time and space
lungs on earth for humans.
Nature teaching showing why
even poets lost in solitude
are as derooted weak trees
they shrivel and die
Here at Hello Poetry
we may willfully become stronger tightly rooted together
to grow taller stronger mightier
or perish for lack of unifying interconnectedness.
huddled root to root
I perceive a disconnection on H.P, among many poets
with thick long roots yet unable to stay connected with
one another in rampard discord
some expecting benefits without any other concern but arrogance
and selfishness
Trusting unison powerful
indestructible succeeds interconnectedness.
Why not huddle up together
closer so noone deroots us.
i hunger for your view on this.
Nature is teacher at best
intermingling tightly
so closer in proximity
likewise
poet to poetess poem to poem
so that i may follow you
confident follow me
huddled up
root to root.
~~~~~~~~
By:Karijinbba
revised: 01-07-19
Jan 4, 2019
Jan 4, 2019 at 1:53 AM UTC
The Moon and the Stars
It all started one night under the stars.
Lying in the field on the clearest yet brisk last nights of summer's warm-held grasp. Telescope, blankets, friends and stars. We watched and waited as satellites and planes flew overhead; deciphering shooting star from orbital waste, relearning and recalling constellations recognized throughout man's lifelong past. Gazing into the wide open of the unknown with thoughts of extra-terrestrial, black holes, and the possibility of life after death.
The darker the night the more magic seemed to exist. After wrapping up our outdoor viewing of the universe, we headed indoors for peaceful sessions of passing the pipe while listening to shamanic throat singing and overtones, as our friends sat gravely entranced, zoning out to the wonders of the world covered by media through National Geographic and the world-wide-web.
It was somewhere a midst all this where I find myself; body calm and mind relaxed, propped up on the couch pondering the innermost immortal thoughts of the interconnectedness of life and death and sound and energy, spirit and soul as visions of spirals infinitely intertwining as one appear before my eyes. The sensations of what I imagine the reference of “getting the gears rolling” in the center of my brain as my pineal gland begins its first steps of decalcification brought about by the intentions of man.
Up until this point my life was on a one track path. A steady straight line towards the unknown, unawakened, and ignorantly naive, believing everything I had been taught up until that moment was a true solid fact. With this new sensation of the potential for higher vibrations within my own soul, my heart began to rapidly race but without pain and suffering, rather with the excitement of this new realized grace.
Awakening to this new idea, to this new age, to this new way of life.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 11:06 AM UTC
***"Our world would be a barren
and a horrible desolated place***
without:
~ POETS and our intuitive subtle visions
~ MUSIC's universal healing sounds
~ DANCE OF NATURE
~ ANIMAL FRIENDS"
*Poets
Music
Nature
Dance
Our
Beautiful
Animal
Friends*
Reveal Love For Life:
*living with each other
within harmony,
interconnectedness,
love and compassion.*
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 9:42 AM UTC
Rows and rows
Brick by brick
Cubicles and doors
Everything is happening
The moon is the same moon
The sun is a shared one
Every story is different
Each room differs
By oceans
Vast interconnectedness
The walls keep us together
Appearing to keep us apart
Feelings shared
Never at the same time
Or at the same thing
Turning turning
Spinning sputtering
Smoothly now
We eternally go
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 3:49 AM UTC
Young, Wild and Free
There is no game and there is no compass
How I despise, another fall
Another diminishing glimmer in my eyes.
Brown cascading with Blue
Lips on lips,
Hips and Sips
I could like you but I don't know how.
For monogamy is a practice unknown to me
A language miles away, from where interconnectedness flies away
It's greatest fear is it's mastery, for a life lackluster at it's very seams.
Monogamy, a prized practice
Forever at its lips bidding adieu,
I would like you but I don't know how.
How do I dignify a surmise,
You're beyond deserving of more.
I like to smoke and I'm not sorry,
I like drinking until I can dance and I cannot forgive
I find my comfort in a glass of whiskey,
I find my charm breeds with corona.
You deserve more than a mickey,
You are my delicacy beyond this honey brown purity.
You should be dignified,
You should be invited to the ball and not the moshpit.
A million words and a million girls
So I cower in fear
Simmer in the millions of men
For every woman you see, there are a million men for me.
I cascade in this, I comfort in the crowd.
I find comfort in daydreams, ripping seams, lips
Distance is my mechanism,
Hope is abundance
I want nothing but your gaze,
But to save my soul with a simple graze,
I seek comfort in the crowd.
I'm lazy,
I've grown lazy with indecision,
A indecision that has bred on fear,
A crippling, cold, vindictive tar suffocating all reason.
Horror lulled me into laze, and now I await
I await a love that consumes me
But how may a love come to me when I stay begging
Begging by a bottle, holding comfort in the crowd.
I seek comfort in the crowd, but the crowd does not fulfil me.
The crowd is a youth, it is not a lifetime.
I seek comfort in the crowd, but the crowd cannot seek comfort in me.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 6:17 AM UTC
Connecticut
Humanity in a rut
Which way to turn
As we all burn
Paying for that four letter word hate
The one that so many regurgitate
Spoken out loud
Emanating into the crowd
The crowd of humanity
That reeks of such profanity
That to hope for some saving grace
In this uncivilized place
Is, I am sorry to say, sure to fail
As the divine within us has become frail
What happened to LOVE?
Peace symbolized by a white dove?
In what direction do we as a species travel?
As our interconnectedness continues to unravel?
I have not an answer now
As all I can do is bow,
My head and pray
For all those affected on this tragic day
(c) 2012 Shawn White Eagle
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 8:44 PM UTC
Bob Marley says when music hits you you feel no pain
But when I feel music I can feel the pain of so many suffering artists
I can feel the pain of Nas, Mos Def, and Talib Kweli.
I can feel the pain of Isaac Brock.
I can feel the pain I feel inside of me
Music is my independence, or one of its many manifestations
The universe has no limits when I am being blanketed by the warmth of music
And to me this is the greatest form of independence
I can experience myself through someone else’s experiences
That to me is interconnectedness
So how can I be interconnected yet independent?
How can I feel the warmth of music while at the same time it chills my bones?
Music is like life full of contradictions, but without them would cease to exist
Music is like life so personal, but shared by all peoples
Music is like life it takes courage to listen to your own as well as other voices
Music is life because for so many that is all there is left to live for.
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 11:35 AM UTC
The aqua back drop peels away at a marshmallow scene
While the aerial obstructions deepen and darken
Earth begins to cry in a desperate attempt to be clean
An age old story of a planet's reclamation
Serves as a reminder that life is cyclical
We rise and we fall
With the end we forestall
Much like the recycled tears that paint across my bare skin
I can feel the interconnectedness within
Tranquility embodies this life essence
Self-sustainable, she puts up a fight
Taken for granted, yet ever constant
Everything is going to be alright
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 12:30 AM UTC
World War III was a pity
nuclear destruction
***** and Gomorrah
Babylon the last city
World war; IV, V,VI
skirmishes nitty-gritty
Reduced to rubble,
Land no longer pretty
Boulders and granite
Fire and ash trash
An Unrecognizable planet
Walk on mounds of broken glass
Each day, a little less men strive
Those who managed to survive
Irreversible travesty’s against God
Chanted by men to Stay alive.
Souls Reduced to Unspeakable things
To eat a human being is not as easy as it seems
Humanity in its primitive form Cannibalism
The bell tolls for thee” Dinner bell sings
What length would you go for your kids?
Looking in their hungry eyes first dibs
Carnal nature, tender young flesh
Hunger, starvation, soulless don’t confess
living off the flesh of
The belly of the beast
“Stab it with your stealing knife
But you just can’t **** the beast”
Mouth waters, a banquet feast
Life on the outside filled with decay
Losers never win they just fade away
False promised prayers nothing to say
One more gory battle fire the last mortar
War Ends with One World Order
Martial law rioters reject Curfew in affect
Government laws suspect,
Man fights to the end to defend
Freedom life liberty protect
BLT Webster’s word of the day challenge
March 13, 2025 CURFEW
Curfew refers to a law or order that requires people to be indoors after a certain time at night, as well as to the period of time when such an order or law is in effect it can also be used to refer to a time set by a parent or caregiver at which a child has to be back home after going out
The Phrase
“Never send to know for whom
The bell tolls; it for Thee”
Originated from John Donnie’s meditation 17
and means we are all connected, and the death of any person, even a stranger, is a loss to all of humanity, as we are all part of the same human experience
Ernest Hemingway use the phrase as the title of his novel “For whom the bell tolls”
The phrase can be used as a metaphor to emphasize the interconnectedness of
Humanity and the importance of caring about the events and people even those far away
Inspired song
Hotel California by the Eagles
Mar 13, 2025
Mar 13, 2025 at 8:40 PM UTC
Darwin was wrong,
Only the masculine side of the story was sung,
And it's taking too long,
For our science to recognize,
The pattern behind their eyes,
It's all the same.
The games we play,
To try to escape,
Consensus reality,
Survival of the fittest fallacy,
Competivity and jealousy,
Pushing us forward,
Eating, depleting,
That's all there is for us,
Anxiety disorders.
But there's a transition,
When resources are scarce,
To cooperation,
Cheaper to feed your enemy than to fight it,
It's in evolution,
It's called mutual benefit,
The bacteria in your gut are living it.
Interconnectedness,
Interdependence,
It's no revelation,
That without our relations,
We are nothing.
We are the tips of the tendrils of the void,
Growing and branching with each quantum collapse of the conscious moment,
Interacting in an infinitely complex entangled network.
A symphony of strings.
The mother of all organisms.
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
She wrote poems about sunflowers
and about the colors of each of the different flavors in her afternoon tea.
She wrote about the foot-worn path in the concrete floor of the history museum;
About a stranger’s dog who licked her hand at the park.
And to her future child,
And to the boundlessness of love she knew but could not fathom that existed in a forever-expanding space inside her,
And about that brave and resilient seed shared by all of science and art,
the interconnectedness of all things.
In radical joyful tones,
she documented the goodnesses of her Ordinary on scraps of paper and deposited them into a small chest,
her Memory Bank.
The people pointed at the lonely beergazer
The outraged wunderkind
The housebound widower
Each lost in the past or in the future.
Ah, misery.
The father of poetry.
They would shake their heads,
A shame, they would say.
Meanwhile, on the other side of town or maybe the world,
the mother of poetry, undeterred,
sat in her garden
singing to the souls of the vegetables.
Jan 10, 2022
Jan 10, 2022 at 3:32 AM UTC
Delicate whispers of gentle streams
Subtly hinting at blue river dreams
Gradually flowing out of broken seams
Marking the interconnectedness of wooden beams
Flipping through papyrus in sinewy reams
The passing of solitude through tainted genes
All the pop culture in irrelevant magazines
Wondering what the world in its entirety means
Bracing oneself through nonchalant leans
Ready for what the universe brings
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
I agree....just simply through my Experience.
I understand the fine tuning acquired & required as we unVeil New & refined Capabilities
~Waves of Revelation, surging inside of You
~ as you feel a Personal Amazement of all previous Moments ~synchronized~
in
Cosmical interconnectedness
The Entanglement
~that directed the bigger Picture of the a transformative situation
(Testing Ground).
I realize I gain in blessed gifts for my service through proper conduct, awareness through dichotomous states of Eagle Eye Concentration, incorporating full sensory ~Engagement~
... at the same time I Release a part of my Conscious Attention into ~Extended Awareness~
Bless my Befuddlement...I..I..mean I am having a recent frustration causing conflicting feelings about the role I see Myself contributing as in the Grand Procession of These Kind of Things....
I am mainly Elated , Honored, Focused, Excited, and, Well, gawddarnitt...Git me ma horsee ma...We's gots a good long ride, Theys'alls a'beans tellings....I hears
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
Much of America is mourning still--
Mourning the light extinguished when
Heedlessness embraced false promise;
Mourning the loss of what could have been;
Mourning the hope of a glorious day
Darkened by a cloud of despair
And sincere interconnectedness
Became replaced by vanity fair;
Mourning the loss of a heart that beat
For all and not for a limited few,
And coarseness received people's praise,
And true refinement became taboo;
Mourning a dream of inclusiveness
With all-embracing open arms
When a nightmare smothered it
And drowned out warnings and alarms;
Mourning the flower of optimism
With hope in every opening bud
When weeds with thorns of cynicism
Flourished, and hope was dripping in blood;
Mourning the renewed freshness of spring
And the calm peace of a summer's night,
Ravished by winds of uncertainty
And the bitter harshness of winter's blight.
Much of America is mourning still.
The grief will end one day. Till then,
We all move forward while many continue
To mourn the loss of what could have been.
- by Bob B (11-25-16)
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 10:41 AM UTC
Hey Star Child, are you listening? Do you know?
There is a woman who is seated at the edge of existence;
She sits at the blush of all creation
And in her deft hands, the fabric of time and upon it, she will sew
She will sew ever so lonely, the joyful memories of those of space
Such thankless work
Her skin is as dark as the unknowable void and her eyes as bright as celestial sparks
She wades her long, thick legs in the primordial ooze
From which all life grasped onto her endless scroll of the fabric of time which she marks
With all the spectrum of human knowledge and human emotion: humanity itself.
But for her deft craft; it is thankless work
And she has name; a name of decency and order
Cosima of the Cosmos: divine being of all with tranquil auras upon her lips
Her soul is that of chaos and order; blooming with gentle petals that did corder
The interconnectedness of the realms and worlds at her fingertips
With deft fingers, she sews and she sews and she sews
Unaware time has passed at all; her endless chore without beginning where she goes
Without end, without thanks
Cosima sews. That is the true nature of her celestial,
Of her ethereal
Duty to us, the children of the stars whom she is unaware of; hark
Tis us who are unaware of her
She who sits, sewing, at the gorgeous turmoil of the beginning and end of the universe
That she has crafted, blissfully unaware of her how fingers bleed for us
She sits, sewing, and crafting the fabric of time rolled out infinitely upon our Earth
Oh Cosima, oh darling Cosima of the Cosmos, do you know?
Are you listening to I?
I who wish to bid you praise for your stellar talents
I who cry out in the astral abyss; completely separated from you by space and time
I who cry out in a weak, perishing voice
I who wishes to acknowledge your tireless, endless work
The work Cosmia, oh Cosima my darling, who creates all the pleasures and misfortunes
Of the human experience we write, we sew, we who praise all your efforts
Unknowingly so
To which is met with more bitter, ignorant bliss
For you, Cosima of the Cosmos, do not realise you are not alone
You do not realise that your astral fingertips is more lives than you will ever know
How horrible it is, such thankless, beautiful work
Imbued with loneliness you will never fathom
For such loneliness is all you’ve ever known
The ordered universe: symmetry and entropy
Petals of magenta, unfurl and it does greet
The morning sun in joy and the evening moon in farewell,
A name by any other just as sweet
Cosmo, the one with the name of peace and order, Cosmo
The flower we have signified to mean such pleasantries
In the feminine name of the motherly woman who sits at the edge of nothingness
And all
We did name such a pretty petal pink
But does she know?
But do you know?
Hey Star Child, did you listen? Do you now know?
Hey Star Child, will you be the one to let her know?
Will you be the one to thank Cosima of the Cosmos?
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 6:22 AM UTC