"perceivable" poems
Universal entropy,
masking it’s plan
Perceivable good and
evil, much more than so
A light waiting to be shone
beyond which we can ever comprehend
Camouflaged, patient;
wickedness one day proving itself
God’s rippling gift
And yet, the present seems bleak,
The great unknown rests
behind a curtain,
even to you
Keeping us suspended
above countless destinies below,
those realities flickering like traffic from
a private city rooftop
Our actions,
for an audience we are unaware exist
So not for naught,
do indulgences befall
Some good can come of our mistakes,
even if it's to faces we'll never know
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 11:06 AM UTC
If I ever happen to meet myself,
I'd sit graciously on silence's table,
And study my evolved, yet un-evolved self,
Undisturbed, unhurried, un-agitated,
By world's brightest gulf.
...and smile back, as I watch myself.
If I ever happen to meet myself,
I'd sit cozily on peace's table,
And watch my wounded, yet un-wounded self,
Un-agitated, un-deviated, unmoved,
By world's sorry self
...and smile back, as I watch myself.
If I ever happen to meet myself,
I'd sit calmly on agony's table,
And observe my painful, yet not too painful self,
Unmoved, undaunted, unleashed,
By world's weirdest self,
...and smile back, as I watch myself.
If I ever happen to meet myself,
I'd sit gladly on glee's table,
With my eyes smiling, and smiling at myself,
Unaffected, unguarded, unremitted,
By world's unrequited self.
...and grin back, at myself.
If I ever happen to meet myself,
Twill indeed be a blessed, contending miracle,
As that's when I could pat & greet myself,
In real, In real, In real!
And make this fact to myself perceivable,
That Our world may sure often demand struggles,
And our mere existence in it,
May just be negligible,
But we never gotta forget
To stay hopeful, smile and giggle at ourselves,
No matter how hard,
or harder are the struggles,
As that's the precious fuel,
That can truly cause miracles,
In a world,
Often so obsessed with struggles!
And then with a grin,
A sparkling hope within,
I'll bid myself,
A sweet, serene,
farewell.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 3:23 PM UTC
Although the skies appear blue,
Blueish white, with cottony hue.
Coloured orange, with fainted red
Dazzles bright at each sunset.
Evening sky, intensely blue,
Fainted is the sunset hue.
Glowworms dance, adorn the hue
Happiness spreads in the world anew
Into this landscapic purplish blue.
Juggling, days
Klucking nights
Lying stunned in this hue so right
Man, the creature, so curiously few.
No matter it's a day or two,
some hues amaze like a landscapic view!
Orange red, with deep yellow in blue,
Pearly stars, adorn the view.
Quilty cold, in the days with dew
Rosemary looks majestically new!
Sun, the ball of fire for few
Teaches, turns a page each new,
Unknown, interesting, perceivable to few
Vanity is so pale, to take,
Wander, wither, breath well each day.
Xmas may not come each day,
Yawn, smile, admire all days, as uncertain are night somedays
Zenith meets only the braves, let zephyrs cuddle, embrace your zealousy face.
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 5:18 PM UTC
I’m not perfect. I’m far from it. A clattering engine of destructive vices, a body average under Adonis, a mind weathered by experience and paradoxical in influence.
It has taken a lot of work and luck to become who I am today, with that ****** in the mirror tripping me up plenty along the way.
But in this moment, amongst our grand but insignificant civilisation, amongst our beautiful but minute planet, in this relative scope I sit here with you in...
Somehow... things have finally worked. Fitted. Reached... some level of... peace.
As I indulge in your eyes there’s a lot to contemplate, speculate, agonise over.
There will be times between us where consequence will draw conflict, where our dividing, clashing aspects will build the intensity of how different we are, questioning whether we should know each other at all.
Moments where the reminders of the subtle magnetism amongst our personalities seem almost transparent.
Familiarity breeds contempt so they say.
What I hope, for us, for whatever this is, whatever it will become, I hope potential and positivity can develop.
Spontaneity.
Exploration.
Curiosity.
You once were... the goal personified. Amongst the trivial, the financial, the creative, a connection with you became... valuable. And now... my love, now the connection has filtered into my memories as something warm and reassuring, you have stepped from the centre of attention to a turn of my head from the perceivable forward.
In the drive of the day, you serve as a fantastical presence in my mind, a word repeating in the sentences rambling through the monologue, associated with an image that stirs a collection of emotion.
The words and images, the memories and ghostly echo of a voice straighten my back out, and knock my chin up a touch.
We don’t depend on each other, we aren’t each other’s everything, instead we are friends in love developing ourselves in a way I can never fully express thanks for.
Life is a challenge, and at the same a beauteous opportunity and I’m glad you’re sharing it with me. The reassurance of you... helps me take it all on with pride.
So thanks.
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 9:35 PM UTC
What if the things we see are only perceivable by us? As if we all have unique spectacles, ones that let us see what we think is normal, but to put them on anothers’ eyes would be to change their entire world, their idea of what things are. Blue is orange, green is black, trees are ugly, distortion is beautiful.
Then what is the truth? What is the tree’s true nature, the honest hue of blue, what does my face look like in reality? Suppose there is no truth. That what we perceive IS reality, in all honest hues, viewed differently in each spectacle of each individual. That it is all in the mind.
If life exists in that way, in the mere space of our minds, the vastly infinite universe that resides in all of us, then my only goal is to share my spectacles.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
The world is so connected and indeed, it is not in many ways,
From newspapers to the internet, social networking sites to video calling and last but not the least telephonic calls.
We are so absorbed in the world that exists not as a tangible reality,
that we forget the ones seated next to us,
to smile at our friends we forget or we don't realise
but find time in all the world to smile at a WhatsApp message or a Facebook chat.
We miss the chances to care and help others in real world
while we make panels and help groups on social sites,
And work hard on promoting stressing and straining to make things work.
We forget our loved ones while trying to find new loved ones
through distant chords and invisible strings of a virtual world.
It is indeed right we learn of cultures and diversity
and acknowledge most kinds and varieties
forgetting the very near and very much wanted.
It is a difficult question as we are still gestating in a world of virtual reality
far fetched from the perceivable reality
if we still wanted to continue as such.
But the truth is that we are more connected by this umbilical cord of illusionary virtual global connectedness that we block real realities in the dawn of it.
We are not ready to be reborn with more sensitive capabilities,
to transform and reunite and catch hold of our lost sensibilities and sensitivities
to save our world from being so disconnected.
Is not it time that we did redesign a new world
Where love and care
Warmth and tenderness reign.
Is it not time that we stop and stoop to hold our old world and yet conceive of a new world integrated
With technology and live side by side
And weave a wonderful life for us.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 2:35 AM UTC
I am here to remember
What I am
That which lies hidden
Beyond the remembered
The access lost – or so it seems
Somewhere in between
The tapestry of experiences –
Weaving time through space
And space through time
Cutting and pasting
A kaleidoscope of experiences
Into the frame of linearity
Of our 3D playing field
And that which exists
Beyond the humanly perceivable is
But shrouded by the veil of forgetfulness
Made up of intricately interwoven patterns
Concealing the escape hatch
Out of mental confinement
© Jasmine, August 2013
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 12:47 PM UTC
Now as the cold paraded its barren stride
Across the unkept fields
The land glows with a subdued affection
And illuminates perceivable years
Across the expanse walks my dame
Pacing with ease, steps true and light hearted
A flowing ribbon stair igniting sacred memory
Her eyes, my passion shines to vent the unexpected
As well there should be cause for grace
Where for the moments that made us dissipate in a fog of static memory
And dissolve in to the setting sun like ash into dark waters
For no man walks this earth unscathed
And I, as being one of the many, am not partnered with exception.
I will spend the time I have been given
With you memory not on leave
And appraise ever image of your presence
Before they wither, and can no longer be perceived
Your whisper will speak life when I slip away
Only above city lights does she ever walk with me.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 10:41 PM UTC
• X is the one in your mind
• Y is the one that you see
• Z is the anonymous
a. If you slowly start seeing Y in a different way than what it used to be for you because of X;
then you have a new way of looking at Y because of X and X is the one that makes you realize a new self in yourself which makes you see a new Y.
b. If you start loving Y if and only if a. is true then it is also true that X is the trigger where love comes through
• This may mean that (me) the one that loves, has actually been willing to love by the foundation of a new self through X either will it be a thing (tile, candle, tin, window …) or living (elephant, boy, girl, teacher, …).
• So love becomes an inevitable thing for the one that loves (me).
c. If the interaction between X, Y and of course (me) makes (me) slowly realize the existence of a ‘Z’ then Z becomes what I have been longing for as the new love and life combines.
• Z is secret and as a result discovered secretly.
• The secret discovery is by (me) and this is also what creates Z as a truth – a truth only perceivable by (me)as ‘freedom’ – which (me) will be able to communicate to others (this makes Z exist for others but in another way than it is for (me)).
So then the question is which one is my Valentine? X, Y or Z?
Or even (myself)?
Notes:
• X is the one in your mind and not the one that you have seen
• Y is the one that you see and since the discovery of X you realized that Y has not been the one in your mind anymore
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 11:04 AM UTC
tides change, a perceivable measure from my skewed vision anyways. soft shudders, wings from birds of flight- there is something in the air tonight. the earth trembles beneath me, the sky rises above- something in the moon my dear entrances me in love.
there is no wind upon my legs, or my arms, across my face. there is no breeze to catch my hair, no cold sparks or humid drench in the air. So, I start on my summer-side way, the paths we used to take- while we were too young to understand the beauty of just being able to walk for a day. in the fields we'd run, the trees we'd climb, in the grass where we spun, and we spun;
until mum called us home for supper-time.
my love? when did we decide to grow up?
for now, we are left enjoying the moments in the past, we were too busy looking into the future, to enjoy what we had.
but I suppose, we always are..
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 7:22 PM UTC
something reenergizing flows
do you feel it? can you sense it now?
the air carries scent
of optimism, the
faint hint of brighter tomorrows
bells and chimes- rustled gently,
swayed by our Mother Earth's
graceful twirls-
sweet peaceful rhythmic
vibrations in perceivable distance
birds are curious creatures
they sing so beautifully
though their beauty is
not known to them
this wind rings in my ears
the birds that are singing
now intertwined with it
their melody has become my own
yet they do not know the soul
they've shown such beauty to
they do not know it any more
or any less than they are
aware of their gift
they just are
and so like the winds
and so like my friends
who gift beauty to grace
the flow of energy
i will be but one
with the breeze & flow,
i will intertwine
so graciously with the gift
i will transcend
i will be
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
Grain by grain the sand
Fell through the sieve
You slipped through my hands
Your belief faltered
The pile stacked against you
No perceivable escape
This land becomes your tomb
Your body upon the alter
Ready to make the sacrifice
Nothing is gained if absent
Blood is mankind's truest vice,
But ink is the authors
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 9:39 PM UTC
Away and hidden
So fearful are we of our creator
That we deny His very existence
Further down and away
We delve to prove He cannot be
That we are all that is
And that we alone control all fate
Inward and outward we grow aware
The cosmos fills our minds
On every perceivable scale
In our great effort to undo our creator
We find Him both in heaven and on earth
In the pure order of creation we see Him
Witness Him and despair
As they did in that ancient garden
Hiding in their nakedness so many ages ago
Witness Him and despair
For His wrath is close at hand
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 8:18 PM UTC
They saw each other,
And ignored the past,
Speaking like it never happened,
Pretending to be friends till the last,
Suppressed emotions,
Hurt and guilt and desire,
Perceivable tension,
And hearts were on fire,
Each one was aware,
Moving on was a pretense,
Far from being separated,
But never together again.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
The months ahead are meant for the living constructs around us to echo colour and depth
The air smells full, feels warm, surrounding our cellular circumferences with a relieving presence
The plants look alive, saturating their greens, showing a perceivable difference from the bricks
The animals that talk absorb their culture, using community and collective expression to enjoy well... just being
Even those that aren't sure where they'll go when the sun goes down
Forget that the night is coming for a while
Some of the animals want to live among many, be it under the sun or the moon
They talk and smile and laugh, absorbing the eyes and messages of others
They walk and ride metal boxes from place to place, drawn to experiences of shared culture
Ending their days with aching legs and fulfilling memories
Other animals want to live with those few eyes that come comfortable, extroversion less natural
They sit and read in a body of grass, sit and drink on a wooden backless table
They draw warmth from the vivid reality around them, and the presence of those they know well
Days drifting off with a cushion of contentment, sleep coming quicker
Whatever kind of animal each individual is, whatever skin or gender, personality or perception they wear
The subtle empowerment of the sun
The eyes and mouths of their brothers and sisters
The blooming coloured cells and sweet smelling transparents
And those times where the animals stand side by side on mass for something they feel drawn to
Give em a chance to breath in deep, feel the warmth
And enjoy
Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 7:06 PM UTC
*I believe, that there's a place void;
Of all sickness and the body's ailment.
I believe, in a land with only souls,
With only peace which can't be felt.
I believe, in a universe with no stars,
No moons and with no galaxies.
I believe, in a universe with no knowledge
And without any parameter associated with.
I believe, in a universe where reason,
And logic don't get endorsed. Only peace.
I believe, that this peace can't be felt.
A state of feeling nothing. Like being dead.
I believe, that this is my heaven,
Where I shall go after my tenure here.
I believe that I can only feel nothing.
Only pure and not perceivable peace.*
-The Silent Poet
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 8:30 AM UTC
unattended- detached- jilted- vacant- disassociated
never been these things. wait- except-
sort of- internally.
physical- tangible- palpable- manifested- perceivABLE
here it is. see it? how pretty- it blankets the light.
how very ugly to me- as always.
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 1:08 AM UTC
bass palpitations and neon fragmentations
briefly deflect the cruelty of
your perceivable
emptiness
a rainbow of sweat, anonymous
stems encompassing sauntering spirits
a fully elevated identity
identifies the rationale
behind the soul's existence.
THERE IT IS,
dangling before doped surveillance;
can't you taste its sweetness?
and
before you grasp it,
the crescent wanes
pacing shuffled steps
tracing fleeted memories.
nights with beautiful intruders
terminated with sonorous ears,
oscillations of the frame,
and you,
crashed
on pillow-top.
how did you got here?
recollections
excruciating
tattoos of a misleading
reality.
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 4:09 AM UTC
Weak static creates an uncomfortable tautness in the air.
A sound emitted from the screen is heavy, weighing.
Muted light grips to ions which imperceptibly moss over the dusty glass monitor.
A world within a dish.
Slapdash pixilation.
Fragments—just fractions, part in snaps.
No image takes form in the storm of digitalized points, indistinctive refrain is absently composed.
The apartment, thick with a cloudy green hue.
Stripped, pink shoulders, a flush which spreads in a subtle frenzy—
Bleeds across an exposed chest.
Vulnerable core.
Noticeably contracting, beating the high concentration of life from one source
Into branched capillaries.
Into plush, coy lips—
Hush.
Sinews tear, a dark liquid pools, liberated from perforations.
Flowing from the source and staining porcelain teeth.
Indulgence.
The innate capability to devour proves true outside feasting.
Femininity of unbridled ******* and echoing amusement,
Eternalized.
Cataplexies pressed and dried upon blank, white pages which prove difficult to turn—
only facilitated by the hand of time.
A vast expanse of briny depths outstretches further than what’s perceivable.
Waves rock a feeble coo which escapes from child’s lips at the spectacle of a mother.
Cri de Coeur
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
I
Have
So
Much
To
Say,
If
I
Write
It
This
Way,
You'd
Have
To
Scroll
Down
Forever,
There
Is
No
Perceivable
End
To
Miseries
In
Life,
For
All
The
Things
I
suffer.
I'd
only
write
down
the
only
thing
that
is
going
in
the
right
direction
in
my
life
at
present.
The pen.
Aug 18, 2020
Aug 18, 2020 at 2:32 PM UTC
Come closer. Should you wish to that is; believe me, I empathize with your apprehension. By now I would guarder such hope; as one stepping further into the web that surrounds this deathbed. Perhaps that makes a spider out of me. With patience shall I wait for any and all whom hunger in the pangs of their own curiosities as one draws ever near. Those that will tug away the webbing cob of my fading lair must heed this final warning. What one may find down a set of stairs, through a door and then some more may startle and surprise you. I may yet breathe, palpitate still with the ebb of life. Think less of this than the latter for if I have gone, know that I: your drooling host have become the scent of the air, the scatter of amassed earthen wares. The venom of my soul tips the edge of each and everything that I have never owned. As I render this tome know that my face is pressed flush to the in-perceivable glass, the lens that parts the hallowed derision between this life and the next. Do not blink, my guest, for this is a staring contest.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 8:10 PM UTC
Why did I let that song play?
I know somewhere I need to feel it -
To swim knowing of the riptides, sometimes
Allowing oneself to be overcome
by soaked wet weight,
that heavy longing
I feel you wander around my mind
Like the paths of falling stars across one's eyes
Complete spontaneity, uncontrollable
And voraciously burning
I conceited its existence
unknowing of its hunger -
That deep, dark, perceivable pang it has to fill,
devours
Fields of grass, textured skies,
Hills that roll away
The sun sets with a sigh -
These feelings settle like dust all over,
Thick enough to seed, I sprout
Tiny dandelion weeds and
Strew fuzzy daydreams all over.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
With arms wide open
I ready to greet happiness
My upright, door opening approach
Pours through smile on my face.
Often happiness came barging in;
Perceivable, albeit tiny,
I would label and preserve it
In the archives of memory.
But unexpectedly this time
Rightly manufactured jar with wrong destination
Comes unannounced,
Laughing at my much-prepared standing ovation.
I saw how happiness needed
An environment - natural and timeless,
A welcome that is warm,
Spontaneous and limitless.
You have to let it grow inside you, you know,
And with greed it will chase
You; filling your heart and giving itself out,
defying narrow containment of archive.
Gaseous state of happiness
Is the truth most absolute
Happiness is easy to obtain
Yet always ready to elude.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 2:01 AM UTC
"Unfortunately, in reality, it doesn't really matter how you feel on the inside; it's what you project outwardly that has meaning. No one can look inside you. They cannot see or hear what you do not divulge. You are entirely in control of the way people perceive you.
Speaking and giving off of yourself is the most powerful mechanism you have in your hands. You can get the things you want and control your life simply by adjusting what's on the edifice.
You can be a ****** up wreck on the inside, but as long as you do not let this out, as long as it is not perceivable in your character, no one can know.
In fact, to the contrary, you can, despite these feelings, build an image of confidence and power. This is what others come to know, and this becomes the shared reality."
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 2:24 PM UTC
Just like everything else she goes away in the end,
there's no such thing as special,
it's all just the false spectrum of our perceivable desires,
liberty's eyes of unappeasable bliss maniacally stabbed out,
everything is nothing,
and nothing doesn't exist,
In the unforgivable end I'm always alone,
I live for your romance, but my love lets me starve,
loves unstable walls of unbridled lust,
The ****** weeping angels of pride,
classical war zones of ridiculed misery,
the devils mine of fraudulent consciousness,
starkness clouds of fictitious reality,
life's a dangerous game, humanities humble begrudging essence,
all for one and none for all,
our world's gone mad,
all lives taking part in the hollow pit of it's permanent nothingness,
it's a sad sad world
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 11:38 PM UTC