"predetermined" poems
You see me suspended in space-time
as I’m passing the 89th floor
Falling headlong, my form is impressive.
Sadly, no one will be holding up scores.
Just moments ago I was standing
at a Morton’s Fork in the road:
The fires of hell were advancing
where I stood on the 98th Floor.
Well can you imagine my terror
when I came face to face with the flames.
I don’t know why I chose as I did;
Souls in torment can never explain.
The day of my death predetermined,
but which death would provide me less pain?.
My choice, which was no “choice” at all
was to smash through the window and fall.
Then the only thing that could “save” me
was the camera that captured it all
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 7:42 PM UTC
Sensation, intuition, feeling, and thinking,
Is wrapped inside a ball,
A small pink ball inside our head,
That won't stop till we're dead,
Analytical bedrock inside oozing theories,
Elemental atoms sizzling logic,
The imaginative stranger,
One abstracted and eccentric,
Walking with shadows,
Talking and mocking,
Through these theories inside us,
Tilting our caps ‘til we’re shaking our heads,
Pensive love in storming analysis,
Sapiosexually excited, piqued interest,
Unemotional and thoughtfully attuned,
Absently minded, always condoned,
Unconventional and impartially stringed,
Weirdly wired in auxiliary functions,
Misconstrued and misunderstood,
An ****** intelligence bleeding paranoia,
Knocking unto me,
Into you, inside us all,
It’s something we all yearn to be,
And when you fail and prevail we laugh,
Crickling crickets thinking nothing,
Washing down the storm drain,
With no thoughts fluidly sliding down my throat,
Pop goes no questions into absolute concise words like freshly broken glass,
Again shadows await, but different shadows,
Blinking at me staring at you,
Wondering what’s what, inside this dementia made sense of a lovely afternoon,
Inside your sane, autocorrected, predetermined, twitching, little…mind.
Inspired by Myers Briggs Personality Test
Tyler is INTP... Logician (Introverted INtuitive Thinking Perception)
The drifter, dreamer the absent minded professor!
SassyJ is INTJ... Architect (Introverted INtuitive Thinking Judging)
The starry-eyed idealist manoeuvring life as if a giant chess board!
What Myer Briggs personality type are you?... See link below
It would be great to know.Please comment!!
http://www.16personalities.com/intp-personality
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
If fate existed
How could you possibly fail
With deeds,
predetermined,
in life's tale.
That would not be your failure!
Look up,
You're able. Capable.
Time to turn the table.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC
I sat by the window and gazed out
at the rain falling down
in torrents and sheets.
The night was black as ink, save the stars;
barely visible behind thick storm clouds,
pinpricks of silver in the ebony scape,
as the rain continued to fall.
I thought of you, of the deliberation in your face
etched into every feature a painful, wavering resolve.
The decision before you:
two fates, the ending, or the prolonging of the time before the terminal predetermined.
I grieved as I remembered the pain in your eyes.
I know you too well. I have seen too much of you
for you to hide this from me. I broke
-a silent cry of realization, collapsing my furrowed brow into a contorted countenance
as I realized that you were gone
not just for now, but for good.
And so there I sat that night,
after I removed the gold chain you rested around my neck
after I scrubbed away the makeup
after I traded my lipsticked smile for a mourning countenance
-I sat, alone in the dark, and gazed out the window into the rain.
I wondered where things had gone wrong.
And so, May showers
drove away April's flowers.
It was all I could do to cry quietly,
face soaked with the saline of sadness
that dripped now on my chest.
Now, I sit again at the window
and the same song plays that had consoled me before
'you'll feel better when you wake up'
And I did.
The sadness stayed safely at the bay
while I tried to channel it again
But this time it wasn't the same.
Though I duplicated the mood down to the clothes I wore,
the heartache was no longer fresh
and my face remained dry.
Sure, I felt sad. But it was not from you.
It was not from a heartbreak or a brokenness.
It was inorganic sadness, brought on by my own need for closure,
the thirst for a goodbye that burned my throat in agony and sorrow
that my parched lips would never find.
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 8:47 PM UTC
Ladybug, where does thine own self dwell? Thou art quiet, defiant; a leader of the pack of colorful shells.
Thou hast lined the wall's with thine wing's spread far wide, thou hath tried to flyeth, yet only end back from whence thou began!!!Creature no one understands.
Flourisher of restfulness, gathering knowledge to gain speed. After all no one seeith the smallest beauty such as thyself! Doth thou need help?
Is thy destination predetermined as mine feels? You'd walk slower in heel's if that was the case......
You'd rush the highest branch to calleth the view thine own place!!!
Such a lonesome face, thy cataract's seeith in all views... Old and new, ugly and complete!!! You've seen all brokenness and defeat! Haven't you the smallest of loves?
Angel of bugs, spotted ladybug of mine.......
©Lonesome poets poetry
©brandon Nagley
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 7:34 AM UTC
I wonder about the snowflakes,
about how they're all just tiny specks.
Falling with no predetermined direction
yet, eventually, they land firmly on the ground.
They are all the same tiny specks
but not to those who look closely.
Apparently each speck only acts like a dot
trying to hide from its reality.
If we magnify our vision
we see each flake differently.
Each with its own unique and intricate pattern.
None alike and yet, each with its own brilliance.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
Blue
The color I always imagine your eyes to be
Same as the sea
And I'm always pleasantly surprised
When they're both bluer than
I'd dreamt they'd be
Blue
The predetermined color to represent sadness
But I like the color blue
More than I like being sad
The only thing about blue that makes me sad
Is not seeing it
Blue
You imagine the sky should be this shade
Yet are always shocked
When it blooms a magical purple at night
And turns the softest pastel pink
At dawn
Red
The known color of fear, it scares me also
Reminds me of bad things
Dreams soaked in red
Are never ones to be retold
Though it looks magnificent on brown skin
Red
Representative of love
Yet war
Maybe that's why love always turns bad
Why we can get so angry
With the ones we hold dearest
Red
Reminds me of sweet apples
And sweeter lips
Of harlot lips, like the one's on that girl
The one you left me for
That Saturday evening the sky was blue
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 3:53 PM UTC
The Magician glared down at the shallow water
The light of the Sun flickering against the cool blue
Some penetrating, some reflecting
All of them searching for Home
He thought of Man
Traveling so far, so fast
Towards the Mathematicians Inevitable Solution
Trajectory predetermined
The Observer laughs as they try to steer
A Perfect Evolution
Some accepted, some rejected
Yet all complete the journey,
Outside of time, outside of space
Inside of All, The Kingdom of ALL
At Home
The Magician saw particles of sand
Twisting, heaving, and some even sinking
Clawing at the confused currents
Swirling as if, for a time, they were one
And he thought of The Humans
Each of them individuals
Caught in a storm outside of their control
Forcing them together, pulling them apart
If they are Wise, they'll steer with their Hearts, as one
Towards the Solution
Jun 24, 2012
Jun 24, 2012 at 1:04 PM UTC
We all play the game each day.
And that's all it is, a game.
Our lives dependant on a dice roll.
Or is it predetermined?
Will we ever know?
Luck or fate?
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 7:10 AM UTC
I dream of innocence
of days long spent
beneath summers sun
a Carpenters son
and royal daughter
a Queen and a martyr
one girl one boy
eyes fuse like alloy
caught in a sudden trance
a courtship dance
loves hypnotic rituals
of star filled visuals
white lights against black night
white Knight versus black Knight
this is now a game of chess
strategizing what to do next.
Three is a crowd
how I wish he wasn't around
your first mistake
so I sit and wait
for the nightmare to be over
for my Knights mare to save her
I already know the pain she's due
it's as old as the sun, this rain isn't new
nothing washes away infidelities sinning
nothing can make them white sheets of linen
once innocence is lost like paradise
if only you took another roll at the dice
maybe fate is predetermined numbers
and maybe innocence only exists in slumber
maybe it was lost at birth
maybe it's just an ancient curse
inherited from days long ago
maybe we were never white as snow.
But still I have this martyrs cause
yet still I never really give pause
the Knight that sacrifices for his Queen
for he has already witnessed all to be seen
history repeating itself
Déjà vu sapping our health
reincarnated pain
can the black Knight ever be slain?
or is it just another side of the coin
everyone is still curtain drawing
hiding from the dark
the day that's lost its spark
black night only masks the sun
black Knight versus the Carpenters son
but white lights appear in the sky
the white night is there when we die
when our numbers finally up
when our slumber finally stops
the ending of the night
maybe we aren't really Knights
maybe we are all just pawns
so innocence can be reborn.
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC
Hold the universe inside my palms
I alone understand it is but a solitary dream
Between stars I make out memories
Connecting dots, forming images ingrained in my mind
I look in the unfilled depths of sky where suns have yet to burn out, remaining eternally preserved in an explosion of beauty lightyears away wondering about humans peering at their ambience through time and space
This isolated reflection I witness change in compliance with the predetermined path set in motion by the astrological forces of nature
Unstable
My hands must be trembling
Scared of sorrow and frustration they undeniably confront
The fear of the uncertain, the inconsistency of the unapologetic future awaiting
Solemn visions of an imperfect outcome, enough torment to push strength a bit too far over the edge
Fragile balance of peace and chaos resting within cupped desperate hands
Ignorant, the quickness of extinction among synapses in the cavern lighting the entirety of my skull
Pinned under familiar self-induced delusions
Galaxies silently begging for permanent freedom
Such fate to let their wishes dangle ignored
Urges within bursting, released
That moment I also give in
Forcefully close my fingers into a fist
Instantly crushing wild constellations scattered around my consciousness
A great deal more fragile than realized
Once unshakable destiny budged a millimeter by one lone act of rebellion
Against a powerful pull the majority pretend is rigid
Elusive control by way of self-combustion of life's temporary illusions
Proof one touch can fell worlds of fantasy
Founded on fiction
Or maybe
Reality
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 1:29 PM UTC
I'm sick of trying to deflect every line of my predetermined fate
I've gotta close my eyes, say my goodbyes
Fall to the ground and let my bones break.
Well, hell my skull has cracked.
The brains I once contained are a mess and they seem to be less
than what I had expected.
I suppose when I let go I didn't know
that my thoughts would be completely exposed and be utterly known.
My soul is on the line
because my body is bare and naked
showing the monster inside that I have created.
Something I have worked hard to keep so secret
is exposed to the sun and it
darkens the air with the breath that I left
to be swallowed up by my sigh.
Well it's no longer time to lie.
I've gotta come clean, wipe away all that is unseen.
I have fought valiantly but I have lost and now I'm paying a terrible cost.
I'm a fool for staying hidden
when all it wanted was an intermission with a decision.
To rip out my heart and feed it to the dark.
Instead I ignored it.
And now it's eating away all the love that I once felt, all the compliments I have dealt.
Well, help me save them from this monster I have created.
But how can I **** it? When the villain is me.
My eyes are opened with a snap when I hear the footsteps coming back.
Am I really the only one to blame?
Could I have saved all those lives; women and children?
But oh their blood is stained and etched into my skin.
Imprinted, forever, glued like a tattoo.
This monster I have become is breaking through.
How can I destroy the evil that sits so deep inside
when my mind controls both thoughts, pure and putrid?
My mind is failing,
My body falling,
My mind stalling.
I know the truth.
I know what I must do in order to save those I love.
I must **** what I am becoming.
I'm afraid there is only one way.
We both know that I can no longer stay
I must take my final bow
and bite the bullet,
swallow the pills,
snap my neck,
slice my throat,
stab my heart,
and say goodbye
because it's my time.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 10:17 AM UTC
It isn't a game.
But one can definitely lose.
There are no competitors.
Yet self comparisons fog hind sight.
Leading to more dreary backroads that the world forgot about.
It was fun for a little while.
Telling yourself that you threw away the world and not vise versa.
Was truly the greatest lie.
One that grew into actual belief for a time.
But found that the greatest hell.
Is watching your paradise burn.
Bound only by disbelief.
Dumbfounded.
It's a shame that when you lose everything.
Somehow your mind is the only thing that stays intact.
As if those aspects were programmed into humans in preparation for it..
And happiness got the short end of the stick.
Then to further rub dirt into the wound we create hope.
By means of pursuit.
Shakespeare knew the questions.
And left it up to everyone else to answer.
Only as generations pass.
We couldnt be further from any resemblance of an answer.
Let alone know the question has already been proposed.
Writers play with this notion and yield no two pairs alike.
Lifes most important knowledge sadly can only come from experiencing it.
But with the world in such a desensitized state.
The fear of stagnation is becoming the only real possibility.
Preposterous?
No
Predetermined the moment we chose to let others choose for us.
There is no freedom.
Only sacrifice.
Right.
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 4:22 AM UTC
This is not really a poem; just an insightful realization of mine
We have this mainstream perception of human life—that we grow to freely love the things we desire to love. We are biologically-inclined to conform to the intuitive notion of 'freewill'. But what is supposed to be imprinted in our minds turns out to be no more false than the number zero being larger than one; in actuality, we are nothing but biological clockwork confined to obey the laws of nature.
Every atom in our body, every neuron streaking in our nerves, and every step we take, our body does so, for the laws of nature require it to. Our actions are as predetermined as the orbits of the planets, and paradoxically, it is as probabilistic as the location of an electron in its quantum orbit. We don't act out of our own will; we act out of necessity, for the laws of nature require us to behave the way we should be behaving.
They call it Scientific Determinism.
Disturbing, isn't it? And what does that make out of freewill and love? Simply put: freewill is an illusion, and love is the sweetest lie ever conjured up in this Universe. Even so, we still choose to believe in both. Why? Because we're humans; we long to live our life with a purpose, even if it takes for us to make up our own.
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 11:45 AM UTC
Whatever will be, will be
I guess that's what they call certainty
A vague destiny
But where does that leave you and me?
A collective we
We'll have to wait and see
Due too love messing with thé
Predetermined story
©2025
May 27, 2025
May 27, 2025 at 4:01 PM UTC
They say follow the rules
There's a predetermined path
Disregard the heart
Obey the minds morality
But choose your own destiny
No more cliched love stories
No xy algebra , but 1+1 math
Go back to a more simplistic start
Monopoly of cloned society slaves
Working for similar goals until their graves
Discrepancy is rejected
Individuality gets neglected
Pour your soul into the ocean now
The deeper it goes
The safer it gets
Watch it fall as the sun bastes on the waves
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
Lightning striking through a nervous system,
Blood pumping facetious fire.
Whispers through my home, hauntings of trauma and dreams of the crucifix stand.
The flaming star of the avatar.
The predator and the prey, predetermined and praying.
Just another eternity until the monsoon departs, the season ended. From there the calm waves will carry me to shore.
The dark, restful, kiln, I am your dough, as I am your clay, a grateful panettone.
Mold me, endow me the drug, the decree, the great recipe of relinquishment.
I rejected asylum, I denounced Gehenna,
Cold blooded sunbathing in the radiant rays of the great bird's wings.
The boiling embrace of his soft feathered fire.
The brutal, unrelenting, chaotic, climactic, pull into the hot murky depths.
Scald me, lash me, revive me in death.
For I can wait no longer.
Living in fear of the Reaper is worse than The Harvest itself.
So come unto me my lord, my peace,
And engulf me in the ******** rest.
Sep 28, 2019
Sep 28, 2019 at 3:14 PM UTC
Late night drives with the window rolled down,
Wind hitting my face at 80mph making my hair blow wildly, giving me a fierce lion’s mane.
As I drive unknowingly to a predetermined destination
It reminds me of the future I would never have with you.
Because you and I darling, we were on the road to nowhere.
– Late Night Drives // F.C.
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 3:58 PM UTC
This is the house where lonely lives..
skeletons in my closet, my only friends..
I might just lose it, it's evident..
Give me an angel heaven sent..
I keep sending prayers god won't answer it..
Maybe the address is wrong, return to sender..
I'm never sober anymore I can barely remember..
What got me here, and with who..
Predetermined destiny, not for me i pick and chose..
What's to lose..when you lost it all..
Prisoner of my mind, and these 4 walls..
Build me up to watch me fall..
My phones disconnected can't accept that call..
Leave a message ill be back one day..
When I make you proud like i always said id do one day..
a man of my word I won't take it back..
It's never good bye even if I don't make it back..
Ill see you one day later than sooner..
Such a pretty flower, it was just a late bloomer..
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
it's not a problem when there's nothing to sweat,
the humidity between your fingers only exists if you let it.
disconnection from socialization is nothing immoral, more than anything, it's probable.
no eye contact at uncomfortably long red-lights,
don't try to discuss the compartimentalizing in the back of your head.
you are a molecule.
molecules are small,
you are small.
on second thought, think more about what i couldn't stand in the world
than what i would change.
consider the opportunity and bottle enthusiasm like it's a commodity.
segregate mind
from
self.
seperate syllables, content, and over-accumilation.
inside, i would never expect you to work your own way out.
and again, i spat out black, fine lined ********
there was no more than the predetermined depth that they've come to expect from me,
i went no further than to soak my readers, then force them out still wet:
go ahead,
drip-dry from my dignity.
it's like the fire they insisted deserves to be cradled in a cage.
because freedom is threat:
consuming until she bursts into a sheet of liquidated decision.
but there is still room for appreciation:
for the consistency of
light, warmth and relativity.
swallow back a mouthful of something i cannot pronounce.
what does it matter if losing sleep makes you feel ten,
the lie is still that you're twenty-seven.
but what drove through,
down,
enough to come out the other side, is still being ignored.
my loyalty proved as a stunt in the precious growth you claim i lacked.
just when it became lyrical the reality becomes increasingly evident,
no woman needs poetry about the sun, or the starving lions out back.
so just let me burn in the grass.
because it'd only be wasting my time,
airing out.
it's your pope's, not my prophecy that doesn't believe
in the gravity you say
forced you to
fall
into
me.
one day you'll laugh.
one day i'll stop getting lost when i drive to new places.
one day the water will stop running from our taps.
i'm sure you realize i sexualized you,
like the young thing i am.
i should apologize,
but i'm also pretty sure you don't mind.
rewind: you'll go to waste like fine wine, and i'll drive you home over the phone.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
Am I right?
Am I wrong?
Am I walking towards the dawn
Or the eternal night
Seeing my future
Set in stone
The path laid before me
My steps already made
I see the paths of others
Their predetermined fates
Some will rise while others fall
They are always walking
Towards their fate
Following the path blindly
Is this the point of life
To be told what to do
I see the answer
Ahead of me
I know what I am supposed to do
I try to break free
But chains just force me back
Fate won’t lose
I’ve seen my death
It happens now
The darkness grips
I’m pulled towards the eternal night
Nowhere to go
My mind is slipping
My legs won’t work
Nothing left
Before I’m gone
I look behind me
I see the face of Fate
A face carved out of stone
In its raspy voice it says
“This is you destiny
You have no choice,but to accept
Now goodbye”
Fate is gone
The darkness is closer
Swallowing me whole
With my final breath I whisper
“No
This isn’t my fate”
I fight
I break the chains
I break free
I take a step off the path
And find my own way in the darkness
I look behind
And Fate smirks
Mar 1, 2010
Mar 1, 2010 at 4:34 PM UTC
It sounds like a broken record
Feels just like a revolving door
When another tin-star soldier
Explains what somebody died for
When both sides are crying "justice!"
But when all things are complete
There's another broken family
There's more blood out in the street.
And there's nobody to answer for
The systemic elimination
Of innocent black men and boys
Across this old and broken nation.
When guilt is predetermined
And last resorts become reflex
A whole race of Americans
Are forced to worry "Am I next?"
You don't have to like the truth
In order for the truth to be.
You can cry out furiously
When men in protest take a knee,
But if you deny the evidence
When the truth is brought to light
Then, you're a sucker or a liar,
Either way, you're just not right.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 2:28 PM UTC
i arrived
early enough
to be comfortable
in my seat as
the patient and
impatient alike
shuffled the aisle
negotiating the overflow
of flaring elbows
protruding feet
and cumbersome torsos
a waltz of
dismissive apology
their only hope
to find their place
without inconvenience
yet with little interest
in whether they might
inconvenience
other passengers
along the way
watching
as a man
recently evicted
from the seat
he had evidently
not booked
surveys the nearby
empty spaces
his mind churning
an internal gamble
of which one
might promise
the longer period
of peace
before the rightful
owner arrives
he knows
he will need
to relocate
once more before
his journey's end
at some point
unknown to him
but predetermined
nonetheless
despite this
he settles down
in a seat marked
"reserved"
and closes
his eyes
Nov 30, 2022
Nov 30, 2022 at 6:34 AM UTC
The sand within this holy hourglass does record the unrequested gift.
Mankind’s mortality contained within transparent boundaries
that fool fresh minds with the fancies of freedom and yet,
like the sand, force us all towards a similar fate.
As Newton’s law prevails I contemplate:
those futures forever out of reach,
isolated by that invisible divide.
Our purpose predetermined.
We only live once,
no more.
Once:
soon to be no more.
Can I fall through the floor?
Can I ascend when tables turn?
Can I escape through fractures made?
Can I exist forever in the space in-between?
My cries are inaudible through the glass unseen.
I hear the gentle waves of home – white sandy beaches.
My younger years sink into the haunting heap of my history:
incontestable like the gravity that fuels this wholly natural process.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 5:53 AM UTC
I'm afraid of The No Answer
Of feeling invisible
melting into the crowd-
made of nothing at all.
Of being just a switch
People can turn when they look at you.
Still, you can't glow without them-
as you are what they say
think
feel
want
Predetermined by their lips and their eyes-
A colorful - but at the same time colorless:
Chameleon.
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 12:51 AM UTC