"polars" poems
*we won't die for ideals we once held dear, we'll now simply die for the numbers we can simply keep, but when it comes to ourselves, we'll die to simply keep a mistook numbering in order to readdress the ideals that are no longer appreciated in our numbering a loss of a tiger's roar, and more the microscopic ant digestion auditory exploding into a h-bomb for man to imitate by number but no essential authority: since once mammoth the authority killed man, now some sub-insect (virus) can **** man.*
if there's a group of people
who are assumed to be possessed,
then there's a group of people
who are dis-possessed,
and there's always the middle
interval mediating sales and
necessary priesthood
the two polars never mediate,
once the priesthood used to
cradle the illiterate ones,
now the priesthood uses the literacy
of the once illiterate ones
now literate, consecrating them
with something apart from holy water,
selective reading they testified
to be as calm as a lake, but turbulent
as a river the salmon swam against
the current to spawn:
the once illiterate ones now literate
are taught a second illiteracy:
watch the television, read the best-sellers..
this second illiteracy is worse
than the original one... half of us will
be water and fat... and half of us epileptic zombies
enslaved by a television... i preferred the first
illiteracy... at least we died for love...
this second illiteracy is worth a jackal's
cry and a ******* of paedophiles.
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 9:13 PM UTC
I saw shadows dance
Synchronized madness
Bereft of definition
Colors and forces melding
For a moment, the polars met
A very brief eclipse
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 11:32 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, version two?
I feel content
for I thought it to be satisfaction in a poem sent
yet the polars are polars
despite a fine line in between growing bolder
listen
for I define my own definition
satisfaction is the acceptance fulfilled
of having a cup half filled
yet content is the embrace of the enough
it's so humble to be touched
appreciating the made
for the reflection might be a blade
for the youth
for the drain for the truth
the empty half & the half full state
hoping for a better taste
from the cup before
lips to stumble none or nor
-------ravenfeels
Feb 10, 2022
Feb 10, 2022 at 3:28 PM UTC
I am the tides
Pulled both ways
The flame that burns
Building, glowing frame
But devouring, taking away
Pulled both ways
Night and day
Polars
The same
I don't understand
But I can see everything
Skin is all the same
Words are just sounds
Rain is just salt water
Tears the same
Lips are all lips
All touches are received
Happiness is chemical
Finger tips cannot ****
Finger tips that scarcely touch
Are capable of so much pain
The rule is
You get what you give
So why do those who give all
Not receive the same
Guess it's not enough
I was taught love is like gravity
Reciprocated and unwavering
Like the tides
They never fail
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 11:17 PM UTC
Have you ever questioned conventionality?
Or you just live on as long as it doesn't bother you?
Do you just live on without questioning the world's savagery?
Or you just live on as long as it doesn't bother you?
Not me
Life injure the unprepared immensely
Life impacts people differently
Life changes people
Life kills
Life
With light there's dark
With good there's evil
Two sides of the coin with a slim inbetween
Sometimes that middle is strong enough to keep the polars separated
Sometimes that middle is delicate enough to crumble with the wind
Sometimes that middle is nonexistent and conflicts arise everyday
Sometimes that middle is those who are apathetic for the issue
That middle is most of us
I invite you all to think about what's normal
to challenge the small things
to help those in need
to not be ignorant and think
to shed conventionality
to think outside the box
to look at the world from both sides
to be patient despite triggering thoughts
to not harm, not judge
to start small and change yourself and others around you
I invite you all to be kind and tolerant and smart and helpful
Take action to change, take the initiative to turn words to actions
With light there's dark
With good there's evil
Two sides of the coin with t slim inbetween
Break conventionality and change.
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 6:15 PM UTC
What am i gonna leave in this world?
People tell me that is it
My patience, my frustration
The polars of my moods
What I am, What I really am
What am i gonna leave in this world?
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 1:28 AM UTC
With a clamouring clash and a thickening thud,
She found herself among a pool of her own blood,
Stunned, bummed, churing and yearning.
Raging of insides are constantly burning,
She glanced around; seeing nobody to be found,
And wanting no one to see,
her bruised up face, And her washed out state,
faded further than transparency,
She had fallen hard, she knew it to be so,
But she'd rather it be her than any other bro,
She had done it before, and would do it again,
She welcomes the injury, she knows how to fend.
for herself, for another, for a child, or that brother.
for any other she would aid,
But no matter the amount, she would never pout,
and despises being paid,
She prefers the martyrdom, the giving of self,
the exposing of insides, and destruction of health,
She likes drawing herself together, feeling the drip,
Knowing it won't be so long before the next slip.
Pulling the pooling, the constant remorse,
knowing this path, remembering the course,
the sliding between fingers, the inability to grasp
the past, the present, the future! at last.
She's here, lil queer, maybe broken, strange token,
Of force, of course, she's mending, and bending.
stitching it up, knowing "sup?". nearly there, fighting bear,
of bear hands and grizzly fates, rolled back eyes and hazardous states,
teetering on the edge of her own destruction
poking the polars, running into corners and walls, rampaging so hard, there was nothing but falls
She was the kOS of her own rambunction.
you can't cup the water with open hands, and you can't travel to distant lands,
unless you make the right plan
she tries anyhow, to go with the flow, and to keep the teeter in toe,
but she can't even consistently tan.
This falling apart, the ripping at start, knows no way but down.
But she knows it so, the push and the pull, she's still on the ground.
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 5:31 PM UTC
I am not the kind of fool
Who tells you stories of the herd
And draws the moon and stars
You've been far off the curve
And dehydrated on the shore
Flung out the usual norms.
Captivated truly
As my trivial senses got hooked
In your stable who's a custom soil
By the drenched aged farm
Inside the active land and seas
In which you came from
Abundant spills of beauty
In your smile and in your soul
By the name of the french lady
Who gave me cold teas
Under the waitress of the resto
Beside the town of the fleas
She gave me hope, another chance
Another dance in the opposite polars
We trance.
And she gave me things I look forward to, another dance inside the collared cage, we tranced.
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 7:06 AM UTC