"predetermination" poems
You see a kaleidoscopic spongesque speck pushed into a blur over your vision,
Sitting on air & feathers.
You sit on air rather than feathers,
Incased in drywall,
Surrounded by your worldly possessions,
Drowning in sweat,
Suffocating from air,
The hum of coupled fans waltzes’ into your skull,
A metallic mind prints mass media
Via a melodramatic faux-vintage situation into your skull,
There’s the pitter-patter of post-traumatic pondering in your skull,
A Mexican Coca-Cola clutched in your left hand,
Phillip-Morris owns the pocket on your breast so that they sit closest to your heart,
Pabst Blue Ribbon has carved rights to your liver,
You have an over analytic sense of humor and well-being.
Now you decode your day.
Now you chastise your intuition for lustful engagements with shadow people.
Though you have no qualms with this,
You enjoy yourself from time to time.
But cannot you imagine a more climatic proposition,
In a less disposable universe?
Where corners are cut,
Shoving dignity & quality out the door
Is where impractical risks are made.
However,
All you ponder now is the blur pushed into the edge of your eye.
Perhaps it is a microorganism rendezvousing with another microorganism.
Though they would have no concept of predetermination.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 11:04 AM UTC
just a few weeks ago the future was to me a
faceless mass of mist, reality seemed to be shrouded, clouded -
the uncertainty; i can't say i like it
(i am forever straddling the line between ignorance and truth)
but i must say it provides a sense of comfort; a sense of peace.
it's the knowing that anything can happen, possibility -
truly, ignorance is bliss - it's like a pillow upon which you rest your
unknowing head; a blanket which shields you from reality.
but in it's own familiar way, reality breeds security.
the irony! to be secure yet so fearful,
to crave the freedom of choice yet to wish for predetermination,
a twisted security in infinite obscurity.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 11:26 AM UTC
Catastrophic
Catatonic
Claustrophobic
Annihilation
One time salvation
Breakout of the contaminated
Destination of taxation without representation
Conspirator to predetermination
Bastardized paradox within a mind flux
Mentality of antagonizing accusations
A nine-cent flag now costing nine dollars
Fronting of the war effort while at home on a family vacation
Apr 25, 2011
Apr 25, 2011 at 6:21 AM UTC
Reality, illusions, conscious perception.
Equality, happiness for all, utilitarianism, or self-focus.
Importance for everything, or the lack thereof.
Deliberate decisions, everyone shaping the future or
Superfluous turn-points, life guided by predetermination propagated.
Soulmates, eternal love, a so-called twin flame.
Life partners through all, flawless understanding, love, creation, companionship.
Progress on a local scale, exceeding bounds in technology.
Communication, resources, tools for survival.
Religion, evolution, externally guided creation.
Proof, support, faith, tradition.
Heaven, hades, oblivion.
Finite or forever.
Purpose or irrelevance.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 2:10 AM UTC
The dirt yawned
And swallowed the weather
While we sat patiently
Waiting for dawn.
The clouds were a landslide
That dragged us both down
Like synthetic feathers
In a hurricane.
We did not find OZ,
There was no other dimension,
Just cold, abusive soil,
And four billion years
Of built up tension
That unleashed upon us
A prehistoric frustration
With the lack of chaos,
And the predetermination
That replaced it.
We clutched at roots,
And ripped off our fingernails
Scratching at sandstone,
We lost our skin,
And inhaled the souls
Of a trillion decomposed
organisms.
Our bodies split
Like light through
A million prisms,
But our spirits
Kept up their plummets.
Into a chasm we fell,
Like grains of sand into
An expanding universe,
So inconceivably small,
So irreversibly without control,
So peacefully.
Our energies squirmed
In imperfect circles
Around each other
As the fall
Turned stationary
By perspective.
Other pairs joined us,
Attracted to our spin,
Until we formed
A new world,
To god's chagrin.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 4:55 PM UTC
The coldness of my unleashed disinhibitions have gracefully succumbed to the wisdom of cosmological forces, despite my ravenous salivations for all that is vehemently forbidden.
As I bark inside the relief of this solitary pound of articulated and socialised liberty, like an expression of abstract artistry within an ethical mudslide; I continue to teeter upon geographical tightropes which span unforgiving terrains across the ancient divides of propriety, where the baron plains of deuterocanonical origin are populated by restless spirits with gnashing teeth.
So, if they could ever be personified, I could easily butcher a myriad of depravities which tangibly characterise my inner Astarte and Ishtar demons – although, such an event would have to occur after we have engaged in a myriad of abominations where raunchy and indulgent copulations shamefully expose our brazen wantonness to animalistic inclinations.
Never offer to tie me down.
Restriction diametrically opposes my socially skilled yet nomadic being, as it sojourns across a psychedelic array of vibrant gardens, and weaves through present pathways which are timeless in their being.
It just is.
That is the essence of ontology.
Can we ever effectively contemplate the philosophies of predetermination and predestination?
As I am not dichotomous in my thinking, there is a legitimate place for being an omnivore within the walls of our societal fabric.
Although I radically accept that of which I do not approve, the psychology of ambivalence has led me to raise questions around the validity of horticulture.
My clock has melted down the flamboyance of those multicolored mountainsides of being and nothingness.
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 1:20 AM UTC
Drinking alone can make for good conversation
New things are learned, said or inferred
Who am I speaking to
and am I heard?
Nature’s beauties surround me
and I’ve killed with neglect
Unintentional
but always aware
My lips tingle and my tongue
writhes, my body breathes in
the expulsion of shelved speakers
and my membranes arouse
because I’m redirected to you
Always to you;
I’d like to hear your voice
but I predict you won’t answer if I call
Following through will result in disappointment
I expected, so why bother?
Predetermination — a convoluted structure
that remains the source of my reflection
And misdirection
There was a rush of
thoughts like rapid waters
straight to my skull, cracking
my will to break like a dam
bursting forth with so much emotion
you will drown in it, even if
you hold your breath to infinity
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 12:48 AM UTC
Imperative perception
It was all far fetched, a time when I searched myself in others
No one can ever give me the moment of clarity and serenity
An eternity of peace within oneself, an embody of higher self
This place of ultimate truth and surreal objectification
A reflection of timeless lapses, the laps of completeness
The storms were a taboo, the recurrent flying unquietness
The un-resolving trips and flares of unpolarised magnetic currents
The escape to pristine moments, prestige throughs and peaks
A vision from the drowning sea, me sinking in the whirlpool
I mirrored my own reflection to yours, my 'I' to "you", your 'I" to "me"
Melodious Creeks
The moment called now is my only lullaby I can hear
A whisper so harmonised and crystallised deep in the seabed
A candle light of moment of truth in a rotating crystal ball
The chaos in the jungle have escaped to the peaks of the mountain
Uninformed lands with uniformed pebbles, the shattered glasses
Demons that stood ***** as they pierced and taunted a being
Why did it take so long?
Lets go the springs and streams of pain, the unending past
It's not a feeling, or logic, its a way of human existence
An entwinement of anthems embellished with peace
Presentiment
***** the barred barricades for me to see your pastures
I can feel the darkness that embodies your soul and mind
A thunder in the unending jungle, jiggling in kingdoms
Reject my sharp vision, I cry your tears as you do mine
I stare at your blur as you submerge in the deep waters
The blackening tunnels with no escape reject my eyes
The icy layers squeezing to escape in your sorrows
The narrowed aisles have become the only island you cruise
The trajectory of our blood realigned in our future sins
Found self?
Listen to the strings adjoining in the basements of the cliffs
The line balancing on the centrifugal pump as it impels to shrouds
Of choices?
Predetermination and judgment of other as I lost a piece of my time
In this territory, I stand at the borderline of my devotion in battle
Holding my rifle and connecting to life and all; me a solider of love
Parading in the landscapes of inhibitions and thought processes
A soul I hold is my only liberation to live fully and autonomously
Eyes wide open, mouth wide ajar as we rise and survive doing our best!
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 8:59 AM UTC
I knew then what I’d think now
A pre-chosen idea like an infected wound opens up and feels brand new
The burning unexpected taste of a drunken release disappoints and leaves me here
I knew then
What I’d think now.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 11:18 AM UTC
So, we must, again, face the inevitable human dark age. When the filthy, diseased hand of dogma closes it's fingers around the throat of logic and reason. Science bowing it's weary head to the masses of religious ignorance, and the intellectual giving way to the impassioned imbecile. What course is reason, when we can simply shout down that which disagrees with our bias, and predetermination ?? Why think, when we merely have to scream ?? What apes have we become that volume supersedes reason ??
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 3:42 AM UTC
“The sum is greater than its parts,” or so the saying goes.
And now the two of us see proof of that as each one grows,
Distinct but similar in code, the perfect mix and match
Of you and me but with a little extra in each batch.
You gave your chromosomes, all twenty-three, and I gave mine:
That nose like yours, those eyes like mine, his humor, her hairline.
The two became one, yes it’s true, that one plus one is one,
But each of us gave more than us to daughter and to son.
For isn’t that your Uncle Bob we hear in boyish joke,
My grandma’s fingers on the keys our daughter can evoke?
A cousin’s art, your father’s songs, Aunt Margaret’s detail--
We see and hear and sense them all; our children tell their tale.
But still there’s more; it’s not heredity alone they bear,
Not just genetic predetermination that they share.
For parts of them go further than we trace from you or me,
Those aspects that can’t find a match in recent history.
Original in talent, passion, attitude, and mien,
Each child is now a prototype the world has never seen,
Once Breath from Heaven animated life within each cell.
Their DNA and heritage were just an earthly shell.
Remember when we held them, small, in wonder and in awe
That mortal hands could hold eternal souls, so new, so raw?
We knew then as we know it now, the honor of our place
Our sum, as parents, greater than our parts, by far, by grace.
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 2:29 PM UTC
Deeper diving
and not arriving
Time is the answer
If you're the dancer
KEEP UP OR SHUT UP
AT THE BOTTOM
fill in the blanks
say thanks
back to the ranks
Curving modern thought
Catering to what we're taught
before we forget
what are we supposed to remember
and return to sender
Cloudy apparition clinging to inhibition
Osmosis-like reaction
to magnetic predetermination
Jumble time
inside your mind
Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 8:23 PM UTC
Broken security, better left to fend for
Single motives
I didn't care, or maybe couldn't
Prolonging my litany
Bad ideas, and all encompassed
Condensed in soil
All that weight that had at one time escaped me
Rooted in
Bound limb, still barely shaking in the wind
Rushing in, though silent
In the darkness, remained for the time being
For a while after
It remained unseen, and I never let it break
Unless I were to lose more in the crest
Than in the gentle erosion
Wistful despite my destitute
Predetermination
As the hallowed ground, ebbing between the night air
Saturated in amenity
Became all it could be
Should it have a will of its own
Saturated in its bleak acceptance
Breathing in the cold satisfaction
As slow and listless as the realization that
Dawned across the shallow boughs
In the fragile shadows stretching across the
Few stragglers
Ill content to let the ground below
Starved fields
Go unrepentant, for even the time being
And slowly, I look up
See the world stretching on
It's not for
The wait
For the post-mortem
So selflessly fed that disconnect
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 9:05 PM UTC
a set of intense statuses, given
I thought we had simply glanced it
we are a brush fire, consuming days
screaming in braille with a sense of must
in untangling strewn bangles
addressing unfair symptoms
bearing branches instead of gracefulness
imposed a bit of patience
well met intentions growing swollen and red
in arrangements of parasitic mirrorings
faces of attachment for vagrants
twin retainment, co-invested in a growing trench
indecision growing brittle in a ribbed cage
at least we contest it, burning fiefs of similes
in the kingdom of predetermination
all we seem to spurn are attempts to disarrange it
dancing with the wreckage.
Jul 2, 2022
Jul 2, 2022 at 11:07 PM UTC
ROCKING IN PLACE
Facing forward still rocking to and fro,I am solid but the ground moves beneath me
Staying in place will not win a race, without exploration the view will never be new
Takes a lot of gravity to move a flat rock ,it remains while the waves carry the sands out to sea
Hard to feel wild while so idle, reins pulling at the bit and the bridle,what continues to connect me to this lonely avenue
Highest high quietly slipping onto the edge of purgatory,if growing blind are we the best to be our own trustee
Guided into this new place slowly but surely being edged from the race,should I simply accept the lesser *****
When does the climbing stop,regulate inhibitions to grow to the top,predetermination of seeing the edge is no guarantee
Able to remain mobile or ability to go global not to be taken for granted to many simple or fine things to pursue
Drawing a blank sitting solid on the planks ,memory lost at what cost are we becoming life's next detainee
Chair takes it's place as we stand aside, what may place us there so easily without a care ,are we ready to set into something we can not undo. R.C.
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 9:46 AM UTC