"preconditioned" poems
I never wanted to be a mother
Not because I dislike kids
Just wasn't something I ever considered
It was never a priority
Not something I considered in my calculations
Over a year ago
I was asked to be a godmother
Hell why not
They call me Aunt Bootcamp
Self-explanatory
Although kisses and hugs
Are always available
And sure they're cute
But I'm literally
The laziest person I know
Unless I'm working
...Or looking after kids
Appratently
So there he is
"20 months old"
-What is up with the whole month- thing anyway?-
Squeezing the content
Of his juicebox in himself
Laughing like it's greatest thing ever
So his mum put him in the shower
I'm looking for towels
Socks, shirts and extra pants
Cleaning up juice
Off the floor
And the table
Consequence of a glass knocked over
He casually pees on my carpet
And somehow it only made me laugh
Preconditioned to get up
And catch him as he falls
Wondering how I got be so fast
Not even remotely annoyed
As he smiles and looks me in the eye
And does exactly what I said not to do
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
How erratic my mind is, thinking about all the lives I've lived, all the people I've been, and all the transitions between the now and the then that we tend to devote very little attention to. How is it that we become these different people, and we don’t even realize it has happened until we look back through time? How is it that we are so preconditioned to not notice ourselves that we don’t see how much we change over the days, the months, the years? Oh, just how odd it is to be so lost outwardly, that traveling inward proves to be a complete mystery; hidden in plain sight, right behind our very own eyelids.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 4:35 AM UTC
People continuously follow a religion of which has preconditioned regulations that disregard all science and also leave no allowance for the follower to use an open mind and discover the road that best suits them on their own. They preach to unknown past lives that claim to be the only ones who knew the answers and the way to maintain a successful journey is by their standards alone instead of teaching the follower to look into their own being.
You can't discover the truth by denying your right to knowledge. This I will never understand. This is why I choose spirituality over religion. I choose the buddhist philosophy to help light my way while I create my own steps through inner peace, science, the mind and knowledge gained.
I am finally waking up.
(C) Tiffanie Noel Doro
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
There is a number that knows itself
Logic has predicted its numberness at most
but logic does not know to what it matches
Within its coordinateless space
beyond the mind
the number has formed itself
at the expense of fixing
a masterpiece about a lover
made of the shape of one’s desire
becoming that one pure desire
of and to and for All
or simply invisible
known to none
matterless
formless
filling
temporary silhouettes
until
silhouettes collapse
unknowingly
about their
barbapapaic nature
to the unknowing
so
what you call
‘grand’
‘poetry’
the combination of chosen words
made of letters
presenting duality
between me and me
made of the sound of the form of one’s
ever changing body in one’s mind
Vibrates
in such frequency that
when one reads
one connects one to one
*( like in maths –
and a bit more complex than that
considering sensual feedbacks etc :))*
and transforms
almost vectorial to
some resulting frequency
of an irreversible altered state
and a doses of future changes
but such occurrence cannot take place
when once known
OOPS!
such occurrence takes place
if it is irrevocable of the finite shells
of time
a true joker
has a pure skin as such
through a veil of pores
nothingness floats
towards its knowing
keeps oneself as is
unknown to all the separateness there is
Thus the program forgets
(:D = thankfully)
or runs infinitely at a place :
‘this could be heaven and this could be hell’
as in Hotel California
so
you should know for yourself
if you wanna make it love
because
If you not
It’s then someone else
because
It is always someone
as reasoning goes
it is a manifestation of the self
a contextualization of a narrative
as story requires
as story unfolds
I always remind myself to
keep up to one reason just
which eventually are no words
but sound or silence of
a reflection on an expanding
surface of a bubble in pure
unfixable color
Oh
words of preconditioned unoriginals
manifestations of self adorations
what is there to be said or heard or grasped?
when All stories are the same?
Shaped extensions of one source
sticking out repeatedly to tell one thing just
expanding the bubble
within the bubble and the bubble
just
to be heard
once
as big as a
Hum
en route exit as scriptures call it
but am I gonna be able to hear it?
(or you or us … )
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
the principle of uncertainty
when there were no corners
not yet
the energy of thought
preformed
the roots of leaves
preconditioned
the land of images without boundaries
I was the king of taste
this vessel took
changing forms
each minute
I was one with my hand
with my towels
with the red cube
of desire
I want was enough
to destroy
the names of dawn
this vessel knows the route to chaos
our guarding mother
take me in your sighs
hold me somewhere
in the sleeves
of thought
let's do it
let's feel one last bit
of the pulsing wreckage
we are full of promises we made
to ourselves
to take the route
to the next level
of ecstasy
we need a container
let's do it
let's chase the semantics
away
what remains is
the fruit of day
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 4:33 PM UTC
The reality is that reality doesn't exist. Reality is a formulation of preconditioned programming which exists only to create barriers between the ones viewed as sane and the ones viewed as insane.
Either way the coin falls, you'll be viewed as strange for having the courage to even toss it at all.
(C) Tiffanie Noel Doro
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
My mind paces,
stalks in circles around thoughts of you.
And the others.
I have concluded that I am unlike
all the other humans.
I’m not sure what it is
that makes your species so.
Perhaps it was ingrained
in the fibers of the earliest of lonely
and jealous people to stalk this planet.
You, and they, are preconditioned
to find one mate,
to pair with one soul,
to love monogamously.
Until the last breath rattles
from your aged and withered lips,
Or maybe just the bitter breaking
of your preconceived infallible bonds.
No, I have the anomaly of loving,
truly, simultaneously, loving
more than one of you.
It’s a curse.
And it is MY curse.
It’s true.
A forbidden love,
so passionate,
for more than one.
It is this multitudinous torture,
to be riddled with the guilt
that accompanies living in this one
cannon timeline.
Why can’t I have a parallel universe?
A paradox of many lives and love?
I am spliced so many times,
Fractionated, less than human.
Like a whisper of what I once was.
Several panes of glass that don’t quite touch
Thin, fragile and a false face of totality.
The space between each, is the overwhelming vastness of eternity
that blinds in lonely blackness.
Every sheet is a separate piece
of what once was
me.
And the galaxies separating each,
spread farther with the passing
of light-sped time.
I know the love I feel is real.
It will not waver.
But also, doesn’t matter.
It breaks my heathen heart
to have spun these silken webs
of deeply bonded love onto others.
Entangling them in passionate emotions that are absolutely unobtainable at worst
and just out side of reality at best.
What does this make me?
Am I not a human?
Is this an evil, inside of me?
Am I demon?
There is no answer.
And there is no hope of forming
an inception with my victims,
Nor an existence for my species.
I mourn in lonely secret solitude.
I am the first, and last of my kind.
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 12:43 AM UTC
it is not uncommon for my younger brother to ask me for help picking out his clothes
but today
he took off his shirt to try on a new one and stopped, looking down, viewing that his stomach stuck out past his chest as most little boys do and said
"I think I'm kinda fat"
he is eight years old
I could probably fit one hand around his entire thigh
he pokes and prods at skin that won't give because what he thinks is fat is simply keeping his organs in
he has already been preconditioned to believe he is not enough
or he is too much
he is eight years old
I don't know whether to tell him he isn't
or to explain to him that he would not be any less valuable if he were because I don't want him to take it as an insult
I don't want him to feel hurt
like I do every time I see myself in a photograph
he is half my age
I ask him why and he grabs his stomach and says
"I see fat"
he is eight years old
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 8:16 PM UTC
I'm playing games
With no emotion
No pet names
and plain devotion
The soil's eroding
There's no consoling
the truth
When I didn't elude
to the difference
There's no trust
When I lead with lust
So then
Uncouth again
This deliverance
My heart is cold
I sold my soul
I lost control
When you took hold
My two cents
And I carefully sense
There's no recompense
For my selfish nature
I'm just so dense
There's no pretense
Only defense
When I'm on the fence
And left you low in suspense
It's preconditioned
Leave no suspicion
In my position
There's something missing
So now I've listened
I'm reminiscent
Of evanescence
No convalescence
It's my decision
Never again will I pretend
like I
gave
no
chase
My only regret is I forget
that
I'm
so
defaced
Forever in debt
for the smile
That I've
now
replaced
If I ever reset
Or resume to beset
I'll just
leave
no
trace
Aug 4, 2019
Aug 4, 2019 at 8:27 PM UTC
Free your mind
Forget what your preconditioned about life.
Everyone has a view but dont let it become your anchor.
Set sail and journey the vast sea of your heart.
See the world through your eyes.
Find who you truly are.
Discover the you that has been stricken away by the world.
Not everything is gloomy and dark.
Look to the sun, the moon, and the stars.
See the horizon for what it truly is.
Always remember that no matter how dark it gets, there will always be a sunrise that follows.
All I ask is that you don't write off the world as a bad place.
See it for the beautiful wonders it is.
Free your mind.
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 1:59 AM UTC