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Zak Krug Jun 2012
This looks like nature.
Standing on the edge on the edge of a bridge
above a man made pond
surrounded by asphalt trails
trees cracking under pressure.
I walk amongst the preplanned trails.
A pseudo-wilderness.
Parked my car in a designated spot.
The deep blue sly outlined
by artificial sounds and light.
Listening to the sounds of the Earth
thru headphones.

Runners cross by…
To my left is an old Hackberry
Celtis occidentalis.
I’ve learned about nature
in textbooks.
This particular Hackberry is covered in a vine.
It’s struggling to survive against an exotic species.
Further on down my path is humankind
“beautifying” nature
with preplanned gardens
gazebos
marble benches donated by nature loving proprietors
next to sawed off stumps
these benches give me a decent place to rest.

As I continue my walk I come across
an unsightly dead Black Cherry
Prunus serotina.
Soon it will be disposed of
by a chainsaw.
Nature’s blemishes.
Please help us keep the Gardens clean.
Trash around a metal can.
Why do human ***** monuments in monuments?
Dominance over nature.

The flowers will begin to bloom soon.
This family has come to soon to take pictures.
Spring has only begun to spring.

Please teach your children to appreciate nature.

I turn back towards my car.
Signs guide me on the path to return.
The road most taken.
Of to my right is an emergency station
push for help
nature is being taken.
I pass by a stream pristine
if you do not count the five plastic bottle, crumbles of paper and shoe.
The trees above me blow in a soft breeze
which reminds me of air conditioning.
There are areas marked off for protection.
Protection from whom?
We’ve already safeguarded it in gaudy surveying tape.

Resting upon a donated bench I watch a maintenance man
raking gumballs.
Continuing down my path I think
“How long have I walked?”
Suddenly,
A golf cart coming around the corner overtakes me.
Pushing me onto the grass.
My feet sink into the muddy ground.
I’ll have to wash my shoes tonight.

Coming across native grass still smoldering
a controlled burn.
I realize
humankind has learned to perform the duties of our mother
better than she can.

I pause

lose myself for a moment
before I remember
I have things to do
and
there’s a two-hour parking limit.
On my way out I discard my trash in a dumpster
rolling my window down
to feel the breeze once more.
Leena Vango Jul 2014
your touch,

deafening noise

chaotic choruses;

clouding my mind

agitating hourglasses,

showing me that time exists.

but, why do you do this to me?

after claiming connection..



meditated movements

in the moment,

is what i crave;

in my tension

setting intention.

opening

and activating the root

of my sacral desires.



do you not have it in you?

bass dissolving;

enough to take the beat away

into your fingertips?

with half of your heart

touching me;

calculated caresses,

preplanned movements..

haven't you ever

let yourself lose control?

haven't you ever

closed your eyes

and seen into my soul?

yes?

no?

maybe?

lost eyes tell me otherwise.



do not touch me,

unless you mean it..
I've put myself in the position of all the bodies I've touched after claiming connection. Perhaps this is how a few felt, as I imagine what it's like to be given false hope.
Harsh May 2013
Hey there (if you're there at all),
I sincerely hope all is well.
Guess you're really swamped with work,
honestly no need to explain, I could just tell.
See the thing is... the thing is, there is actually a thing.
Something has come up.
It's quite hard to explain cause I don't yet know what we are,
so if we are kind of a 'thing', then I want to breakup.
You don't write to me any more
and I really miss those emails
witty comments, sarcasm and ******* banter
strung together with immaculate grammar and ample clichés.
You seem to have forgotten that I didn't fall for you back then
and very little had changed since.
So three years later when you contacted me out of the blue
I was hardly convinced.
As a preplanned holiday got in our way
placing you 5 hours behind and 5000 miles apart
it was that daily email exchange over a month
which gave whatever it is we have now, its start
not calls, not facebook nor skype,
just words, simple phrases and our ability to type.
Essence of your raw personality seeped through
enticing me to a very pure, untampered version of you.
Since I returned, since we met, things haven't been the same.
Are you trying to gain the upper hand of this game?
Because, I wasn't even aware we were playing,
so technically neither can win, such a shame.
I appreciate your intellect, ambition, success
and middle class upbringing,
those random gestures of affection
and passionate *******.
I understand your commitments
and the hierarchy of your priority que
But just because I get it
doesn't mean I'll agree to put up with them too.
It's true, my future is rather blurry
but that's a different thing.
I might be chronically needy
but I'm not asking you for a ring.
I do however fancy flowers
and would really like to go dancing
a daily doze of 'you're thinking of me'
topped with very large amounts of cuddling.
If all I wanted was to get laid,
there was plenty of opportunity to be swayed.
Time to end this hand has come a little too late
with a Royal Flush in Spades.
I will miss those endearing emails,
and the 12th floor of your office with its magnificent view.
I will miss the idea of having a man in my life,
but I won't so much miss you.
This poem is the sole property of me and cannot be copied or used without permission. [Copyright G.H. Rodrigo 23/05/2013]
Àŧùl Nov 2020
Marriage as a choice,
Needs a voice...

A voice I have found in myself,
A prospect I found in yourself...

Do not be deaf as I recite my proposal,
Do not be dumb during the appraisal...

If you preplanned rejection,
Consider this my swansong...

Come on now,
Know me more...

Read my poems and stories,
Listen to most of my songs...

Know me more,
And forget yourself...

Leave your ego behind,
Welcome my love in your mind...

Make space for me in your life,
I am not fat, I am not huge...

I am confident of my art,
You will find me straightforward...

Straight and ****,
That's how I operate...
My HP Poem #1900
©Atul Kaushal
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2015
i am abel’s fiery tongue upon this earth,
cannibalistic in the raw sense of things,
i spoil my kittens like i might a human being,
which does not mean philosophy meets status quo
whereupon no thought is doubted or thought doubted
equates a sensual realism, for the stalemate, this no man’s land
of lettering suggested we go one step further -
i can peer into hell and only see personal misery,
and in all that i see heaven as a collectivisation of misery
of the parched lips riddling the desert sands -
without asking whether thought is truly doubt
or a moral compass we decided upon, that the senses be doubted
and thought proclaimed freer than our allowances consider utilised
or without utility essentially kept (it’s what’s
called congregating on the word reality without a congregation
on the word thought that speaks to western society the most),
for i can allow one thing but not the other -
i too claim the cartesian mechanisation of the senses
by the double inversion of thought: a. doubt thinking to provide existence
without thinking - automation,
b1. doubt the doubting thought and enclose zoologically
further in, to stress the coordinates of preplanned execution doubtless,
b2. doubt reality to undue the method of doubting thought that encompasses
the prime realism of things without thought,
b3. doubt the existence of things to think - keith lemon saying the word... tragic.
but the revisionary trick came when the cartesian model imploded
and said: thought proves being! thought proves existence!
hence no doubt was allowed, a bit fahrenheit 451 to be honest:
i.e. read any book you like... but don’t doubt its content,
think it through, think it out, elevates you into the agglomerate inclusion
with favoured numbering - keeps the “idiots” out, steady on
the beef in the banquet **** of bulimic excesses... steady...
rein in the oesophagus octopi - or like cancer and lobster in italy said:
death by numbers - bulging weight of the nuns chuckling a cha cha cha.
so why did post-cartesian thought engage with heidegger, why
did thinking suddenly uncouple itself from doubting to provide
the “perfect” existential parameter of undoubted sight
given that doubting passed from the realm of thought and into the realm of being?
‘i doubt i was there, i doubt it, i thought about it, but thinking about it
was truly discouraging to be here, so i thought i was there,
and that mediated the equation perfectly: i doubted i was here
but thought i was there, in the end i was here and therefore couldn’t doubt it,
but thinking about being here bored me, so i was “there” doubting
hopefully - rather than doubtfully hopeful of not being there and thinking
that being "there" was me being there would justify thought and doubting ease erasing, i came to the conclusion that being the lambs for the slaughter was enough, so i was here and thought... dasein! in the rally of relays i was "here" disclosing what thought was supposed to be when usurped from doubt and made surprisingly moral. posterior interior pumped suffocating by the toilet rim signalling blitzkrieg ***** and goosebumps on the guillotine ready to pluck a goose for broth instead of flight!’
sage of the black forest has spoken, shush: all the rat skeletons will now
be used for a xylophone symphony.
well it was once called mathematical akin to grammatical,
but so much was lost in the forgotten art of teaching grammar -
adjectives were used to allow timing, adverbs for spacing -
and a lot of emoticons replaced ****** features used once - like an itchy nose
or a half brow of sympathy stretched into an expression of surprise -
but so much was lost, the arts became post-cubism exact in
lacking all inspirational overtones enraging a schooled expression to canvas
a pope might admire, least the randomised passerby.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2016
only in england, where so few philosophical
works are actually read,
it's apparently enough to cite Locke,
the famous island isolation -
after watching a program on bipolar disorders /
manic depression and what not
started watching a rekindling of
the premier league from the years 2002 / 3...
with the years' music in the background -
great memories Wayne Rooney was still
at Everton, and David ****** had a moustache
and a ponytail standing in goal at Arsenal,
Ole "babyface" Solskjær was playing at
Manchester United - the white stripes came out
teasing a breakthrough just before
their elephant album - well, that's that,
but this programme about the manics -
you'd think that england was really accommodating
to eccentrics as once Vladimir expressed -
he's half-informed, 'hey Vlad... you have half
the picture, honest to god...'
but i want to deviate from any sort of scrutiny
on the subject - the "sane" people think
doctors are holy - what's with this notion that
some surgeons don't leave surgical equipment
in bodies, and that misdiagnosis doesn't happen?
well... so much for deviation:
does it begin with questioning your thinking
rather than questioning existence?
half-baked activists - no "change the world"
prompt? i guess you could say that -
no qualification credentials and you're just
a street-cleaner, apparently - a street-cleaner
in the sense of shuffling tripping up on
banana skins (chris rea - god's great banana skin -
https://goo.gl/3JYJYV - great song) or waltzing
on autumn leaves - suddenly there's a new
zoology department at the London zoo -
changed sphynxes on two legs rattling piggies
of savings they never made other than what they
picked up from the street - besides that -
well, you can resort to the Koran -
or at least i find a way to mediate it - back to
descartes: an example of good through doubt,
meaning i'm a quasi-believer, but not, as sartre
would claim: an unbeliever - since doubt equates
itself with good faith, sartre's doctrine teaches
bad faith... and if the opposite of bad is good,
then the opposite of doubt is denial (the un- prefix
summary when coupled to belief);
so this one manic depressive was describing
a moment of solipsism in terms of annie lennox
singing to him - well, she was, the man just
experienced a moment of solipsism, a thought
experiment in subconsciously, and he simply didn't
realise it - like i told you - so few works of
philosophy are read in england, most of these books
try to follow the route nietzsche attempted:
to write very little when others wrote a great deal...
and then what? sit on a poet's laurels and ****
and smile that all too deceptive smile of some sort
of accomplishment? that'll hardly work -
imagine thirst, and hunger, and put that into writing -
and here we have the telegraphic technique -
as suggested by the author of slaughterhouse 5 -
m. kurt vonnegut - well obviously you will not find
any comparisons - but then at Yale the professor of
"creative" writing or whatever they call it
just cited the first line of the first canto - so i ask you:
why would you want to write something as if
it's an instruction manual for a television set?
oddly enough too, the Florence school of art technique
wasn't passed on - while Albrecht Dürer kept his
a secret, unto himself - lucky man, a sad man,
but a lucky man - i actually like his selfishness.
no, they don't read philosophy in england,
and i can testify with the usual saying they have:
'he's lost touch with reality', what the hell is that?
no, i don't have the stamina for any secret society
crap - i get the comedy of life,
a comfortable positioning on the ****** laze -
limit all of life's temptations and live out
a slightly impoverished life - premonition i'd say
now, had enough money back when i was making
investments in a music & book library -
now i'm full - now my turn to give -
oh look: a bunch of gnat memory readers
easily distracted by traffic lights - we've all been
there - two years and a few books in between
it took me to read Heidegger's being and time -
TWO YEARS! and how much came in between?
sunset upon glee of the sea - Ezra's
broken token to the conjunctions
        and
                and
                        and and and and
i don't mind - man lived to be poetry's prefect of
the 20th century - see, a whole group of them, not a solitary
macaroon fetishist that Proust was -
and moby **** will have his days counted,
but not by me - there's no point being a Samson
keeping all the pillars - actually, that's the point,
to be Samson, take a few literary pillars
and then the whole **** temple collapses -
so with two or three of them taken by you
the rest you leave a rubble - turning over to the leisure
of poetry - Vladimir, haven't you heard?
people in england think all poetry is depressing,
depressing? 'what's normal?' is another maxim
in england - singing on the train is forbidden, also -
hey, social criticism is better than running around
with a kalashnikov - turn words into bullets
and mown the strata - and mown the strata -
                 and mown the strata -
give up on preplanned expeditions - only gymnasts
and tightrope walkers do pre-planning -
patience and constant innovative practice - ****'s jazz,
there was no classical composer in their midst with
a silencer of the music, music scores -
how they crammed an entire orchestra in those
little heads of theirs, i'll never know -
so this manic depressive man cited solipsism without
knowing it, and it made him very, very uncomfortable...
i wouldn't have sent him to a psychiatrist,
i wouldn't even want to go to one voluntarily -
i'd have sent him to the library -
but oh, oh, more and more libraries are closing -
while the zenith in my local library was
Thomas Mann's Doctor Faustus - everything else
was toilet paper.
katie Dec 2013
There is no great guide and conductor
taking you through some great plan.
you wont get through any golden gates
because you were scared into doing good.
chances are chances and wishes are wishes,
not a preplanned destiny.
Do things because theyre right
not because some character in the clouds
told you to.

guide yourself through good and bad
have faith in that maybe we're responsible
for our own greatness.
have faith in us as a species and not a
sim-ulated play mate.

i sleep with a light on
because I'm scared of the dark.
my mind tells me there are dangers of the dark.
sleeping in the dark wont hurt me.
in many ways the dark is my light.
you might think so too.
Ashmita Agrahari Jul 2013
On reaching the brim
You fall or swim
Similar the case is
In my race
After getting what i thought
Still the situation
Which needs to be fought
Why no calmness
Such anonymous awkwardness
Feeling jolly
Coz i filled my liability
But still unhappy
Coz preplanned
Which calls for the meaning
And that is not happening
Can't i get
Is this what i meant
If this is all
Then y anxiousness
With emotions on
Such anonymous awkwardness
It relieved me!  :)
David W Clare Feb 2015
If only I knew then what I know now
How now brown cow
Bully bully
Can't go back in time
Those who stole committed the crime

It's all about chuts and ladders
Gets me madder what does it matter?
Maybe life was all preplanned

Are we all just defective units and meat puppet style robots that once existed off in a far away land
I once knew a billionaire man who killed himself
I knew a happy drunken *** who never had ten dollars
Which one is richer?

D. Clare
Be the salt of the earth knowing how to answer everyone...the holy bible
Selena WH Mar 2018
She is not a preplanned list
Or a recipe of perfection.

She is not a dictionary of
Adjectives or an inventory of
The most beautiful things that designs
A flawless human being.

She is not a checklist
Of qualities that makes her
An exception.

She is raw and flawed.

She has emotions that makes
Her unique.

She is like the broken tiles
That is used to create an artwork.

She is a rain day
That forms a glorious, and
Vibrant rainbow.

She is the mud
That sustains the growth
Of gorgeous flowers.

She is a mushroom
That grows in the wilderness.

She is an old blanket
That warms my heart on a
Cold day.

She is imperfect
But that is what makes her whole and
That is what makes her, her.

And I love her
Twice as much for it.
Sanna Tirkey Jun 2018
When all my world had turned to grey,
Colour had gone and nothing stayed.
      Reality was harsh to withstand,
      Dream was the only solace.
          When all seasons grew worse,
           An Eastern wind was the only support.
Someone from east;
   Predestined or preplanned from heaven,
   Blew soothingly in my life then.
        A bond much stronger nurtured within,
        Something was clear ,would last forever.
            Someone was the change,
            Shooting stars had crossed the sky again.
Life had never been so beautiful before,
Colours were brighter and vibrant more.
   Knew not I then, rock heart replaced
by softer when.
    Tuning of life had slowed down,
    Rythm of heartbeat had paced up.
        I knew that Someone was the
                      Change.
  Looking in the eyes of love ,
    I knew I had found my precious man.
   Colours had never gone, seasons
  were not the same.
    He was the change, he is the change.
    He is the one, he is my gain.
Its a poem for all people who love their partners a lot and are thankful to them for being there in their lives . Just like me for  My love, I m very grateful for having you in my life. A small gift , a small poem dedicated to you.
Tis a question of time
that bringeth my words
simultaneous or vanished
I wonder the worlds
Tis it here or there
now or then
hath it gone away
or doth it play again
I hath sought reality
to ask which one
would it be tomorrow
or that which is done
Must it be one to suppose
a looketh upon lines
choosing thy path
amongst many of a time
Millions of possibles
thou has in thy hands
or tis but a chance
or of thine own plans
and what reality
twould you play
a destiny
or thy own
I ask thee
is it preplanned
the winding road
home?
alexamartin Oct 2016
I took a sip of a rolled paper
with a burning end.
As I expel the smoke there is Grey ashes
which are my passions left out.
My heart is nothing but the ashes.
It chokes with the smokes which make it unlit.
It may be impure.
But no use in blaming me!
Blame the person who made it dark!
My destiny wasn’t preplanned
it’s being created by me!
I love to sacrifice myself for Omega
just like matchstick sacrifices for light.
Nothing is better than being alone
with a rolled paper.
I just wanted to be a bright star
on a dark blue sky.
*this is an illusion about smoking
Connie Gross Mar 2016
I do believe, Birth and death are preplanned certainty.
all our choices that we make, will plan our destiny.
everything we do, changes what could be.
If I say yes to you today,
I may lose something more tomorrow.
But who will ever know?
A certain spill or minute missed, could mean everything,
to happiness and misery
or timely uncertainty.
I was late this morning,
changing my formality.
My fate was changed immidiatly,
when I was late this morning.
I was safe today.
I heard the news,
a cemi struck my bus .
If I had been on time,
sends shivers down my spine.
I could have been no more,
with the other casualties.
When I saw the bus;
dented in completely, where I always sit,
laying on it's side.
many did not make it,
my pain I bare inside.
for I was saved by minutes late,
my special fate today.
A kiss from death this morning,
was not my time to leave.
My time of death is certain,
planned it is for me.
For me it's uncertainty and definatly destiny.
Jai Rho Mar 2014
I felt it on the back of my neck,
a puff at first, licking at the sweat
soaked threads of tangled hair
that lay complacent on a broad reach

Telltales of the human kind that
whisper to the meta states before
transforming into siren calls of
change, something different,
something new, something
longed for in the quiet doldrums
trapped by endless drifting
on the boundless sea

My body turned instinctively
to face the tease, while my mind
remained behind, still stuck in
the quicksand grip of fading
memories, and slow surrender

And then the spray, from a swell
across the bow, a jolt of innocence
against a wall of indecision,
splashing hard my cheeks and
forehead, stinging splintered
lips and wincing unfocused eyes

A sudden rise came next, followed
by its fall, to weave their way into
a gentle roll that slowly
rocked the beam

Announcing arrival of the gusts,
scattered bursts at first, a panoply
of warm and cool that pressed
against my back and swam around
to fill, then leave the yearning sails

I hauled the sheets in closer, hoping
to capture the moment of the wind,
and though my preplanned destination
called the course I had been on, I
turned the wheel against the grain
and bid farewell, to the lee shore

I gazed out into the distance, where
whitecaps smiled at me, I smiled back
cranking sheets to the full
measure of the keel, and rode the
surging waves oncoming, taking
the howling wind on filling,
with its breath

my lungs, once again
Joe Black Jan 2017
....
Heart, calmed for time being by Mind and hidden into box of rest and dimensionality of Earth. It has hidden it's fire of Love, closed by lock of rationality and smartness of body.

The less fire burns in Heart, the less it wants to look out into window and spectate life.
But all of sudden it sees familiar shape, or there was a glimpse of flower, same flower which someone gave to you, familiar sounds of favorite melody, which you were listening, when you were in Love, or...

And roused Heart, and forget all those, what Mind been teaching in numberless repetitions and orders. That Mind, that build the wall from pain and suffering, to divide Heart, to divide dreams, to divide Love. It has build tall fence from pain, and forbid to look into sky full of stars, and listen to SKY.

But the spark, fleshed by memory of Love, broke chains of Mind, and burned them down in a moment. Pierced straight into heart, awakening feelings and desires. And now, fading fire of Love in it erupted with new strength and brightness, taking all wishes and dreams along to the Sky.

Awaken heart from sleep, lulled by Mind. It's mighty bright fire got ignited again, which burned down all reasons and proofs. Burned down in a moment, all rational paths, and all calculated by Mind route, of Life path, which was build by pragmatic Mind.

It has forgotten of promised convenience and comfort of preplanned routs, forgot and doesn't want to recall, Earthly life comforts. It took off to Sky, illuminating by it's fire World around, and stars began to illuminate the Heart and fill up with Hope.

It doesn't want to ride in a train of life, convenient and comfortable, with certain beginning and end. It wishes to be free, in it's Love and live, to burn, to wish, to love. And freely fly in vast space of life

It filled up with fire, warmth, Love. Doesn't want quietly die in a train of life, where there is no Love fire, and desire to Live. It doesn't want to choke without Love, as a spectator looking into window of life without it.

It wishes to stand still, suffer, take off with Happiness, and land down with Sadness. It wishes to fill with tears of Love, but love in a way to enjoy these Sadness, these Life, these deepness of it's Love. To raise up to Sky, high to the stars, where stars will be filled by it's Sadness. Which will cause Shooting Stars illumination of vast space of Sky.

For it, important, the process, filled with deepness, with sensitive bliss, fulfilling elevation. Cause for it, for alive Heart, this is Life, way, path and meaning, that place, where it heads, entangled to it Soul, filled with desire that Heart. It wants to be free, dream, and fly and LIVE!

....
Diana Mar 2019
Carry a humble confidence
With you
Everywhere you go

2. Be spontaneous
Because the best memories (typically)
Are never preplanned

3. Realize that you are
Beautiful
Intelligent
Warm-hearted
But never
Allow any one of those traits
Define you

4. Learn to love yourself
Before deciding to fall in love
With another

5. Never compare yourself
To something or someone
That you were never meant to be
Compare yourself to who you were
And will be

6. Never crave validation
Of your worth
Through the meaningless words
Of people who don't truly understand
Or know you

7. Most importantly
Live.
In.
The.
Moment.
Because life's too precious
To have your focus be in anyplace
But where you currently are
Pleases add on in the comments below :)
Nylee Aug 2023
Everything you and me, a preplanned destiny's game,
It started slowly, what seemed like everglowing flame,
A shattered dream with pieces ablazed
The dark night sky, the stars scattered
Like us, light distances apart.
IncholPoem Jan 2019
On  a  lightening  day
both were  in  close  mode.



  On a  lightening  hour
a  river 's    water  became
charged  and  killed
all  living    creatures­.

That   lightening  burnt  your
  red  lips
made  it  black  lips.


That­  lightening  also  
  did  burn your long
hair  jot   to  compete
in  fashion  week  and  
to  have  a  second  boyfrie­nd.

This  was  pure
preplanned  attack
artificial    lightening ­ of  your
boyfriend-scientist
to  you.
Mateuš Conrad May 2018
/not exactly an easy poem to write...

let's just say that i was going to title
this poem: 3am extravaganza...
  and write a revealing diatribe
about how I went to sleep at circa
1am, after having finished watching
gone girl, to be woken by my
grandfather, turning night into day,
eating half a cream cafe
   with ketchup and acting the most
primitive of creatures,
an animal caged,
  perhaps by walls, then again
by the big pharma...
                me? little pharma boy,
he stumbling, wearing two pairs
of glasses,
                   and all kinds of images of
the horror of misery,
notably able limbed, with a
receding mind, or better still:
a mind like a magic trick with
no preplanned execution to awe
a crowd, just me, acting out
a quasi psychiatric nurse...
    nursing not so macho?
probably elsewhere than in
the abolished asylums of England...
    Mike?! Mikey?! Mister! Myers!
I'd hate to write the details before
my eyes and not imagine angelic Amy
tripping and sour in a slurring
tangent...
         not exactly extravagence with
a man nearing 80...
           bashed around his room,
turned on the lights in the corridor and
his room, the television, and the radio,
ate, circa 0.5kg worth of cream cake with
ketchup....
    all I can truly remember was my
incubator voice...
   minor quest and I'm sure his son
(my uncle) has seen very little of
his father's (my grandfather's circus)...
one qualm though:
    we didn't sightsee the Warsaw old town...
but much of Cracow,
and thankfully he went to see
Auschwitz twice:
    perhaps he still has sentiments
for Georgian Joe...
               came my role to ask him
a few details about the remnants of
the night, and his quest / attempt
at falling asleep sitting up...

    already too many details...
   funny... the youth and madness...
     never really looking into how
the romance and the poetry dies
a sullen and sombre death,
when mingling with old age...
    as such: these people would
probably rather become blind than
have to explain to the en masse
    the Chernobyl winds "invisible"...

no, Sienkiewicz is, honestly,
a tedius writer, not some national treasure,
in English: objectively...
    twice bolesław pruß...
         not exactly complicated,
not exactly tedius,
     not exactly: but exactly repetitive...

came a thought, an escape plan...
***** gut, Friday night,
a girl crying walking behind a boy,
a starry night, a candle and a quantum
cat sending me vibrations from
the outer-suburban spiderweb of my
distant hole, and closure library editions
of books, not found in the public
local...
    
still, to borrow from Sienkiewicz...
        
    bi den rôsen er wol mac
tantaradei!
    merken wa mir'z lac
...

(po rózach może on poznać
     gdzie moja głowa leżała)

     Walter von der Vogeldweide

  (by the roses he might recognise
where my head lay)...    

     and then back into the clutches
of the octopus and 24h newsreels...
and since did fame = insomnia?
          as ever, language overladden
with more metaphors than nouns...
  
to cite marlene dietrich:
      the Germans and I no longer speak
the same language...

    even though I speak English and western
Slavic... for some strange, godforsaken reason,
I might as well be speaking Mongolian...
    chameleon and at the same time hyenna
that best recites: a city with necrologues...
with claustrophobia made by
old testament neighbours...
       peacocking death,
and the gold filled rooms of
the easily seen blind, deaf and half
limbed...

             essentially:
ailments worth the concerns when
admiring the lifespan of butterflies...

1st of May and the holiday:
    the day of work...
I knew that the 3rd of May existed
as the day of the constitution,
but the 2nd of May was most minded,
even though not, an official
caldendar red-card day...

sure, in England the flag day celebration
happens, every 4 years,
after the group stages of
the world cup...
                  red and white over here,
and over there too...

once upon a time I was under the impression
that I spoke both English,
and that I too spoke Polish...
   as it turns out,
        the upper tier of idea is
no man's land for me....
      apparently there are necessary
people to talk about...
            back into a language of verbs,
back into the comforts of
buying apples rather than growing
apples on a farm...

point being:
I'm not Italian enough to speak
urban english,
     metropolitan, "left"...
  and to speak minor town Polish...
I don't have to say anything...
a waving white & red flag...
        translated into English:
too bad Jacob...
                 a name a jew and the whole
RIPPER tourism feeding
with glad eyes on brick lane
at the bakery selling salted
beef...
Graff1980 Oct 2017
On my way
to observe
the world today,
this reality
that will decay
as it fades
from green glades
to a cement sidewalk
city of strangers
onto crumbling towers,
then back again
to nature,
and a dark void.
Where is the art
and meaning in this
existence?

Another bit
of walking in
a water like flow
towards a direction
where no one
else ever goes.

The squeaking
car frame
inches
towards the
intersection,
changes lane
to head out
on an empty street
leaving only me
to remain
in silent contemplation.

Random red flowers
already budded
built up from
a brick bed
in contrast
to the car lots
that I past
it is confusing.

Into the small
white building
for scheduled observation,
for preplanned poetry
and for self-education,
I see random racoons
moving in the room
crashing in to
monochromatic clutter,
conceptual art
but I don’t get it.

Could it be
the chaos created
by consumption
in this modern
society?

I return to
my small room
to catch the sleep
that has been
chasing me
since I got off
at 7 am.
Still pondering
my weary wanderings
as I doze off.

Is life this the answer
to the art
that I have
yet to understand?
Cedric McClester Jul 2018
By: Cedric McClester

Well, I’ll be ******!
Trump and Putin are a sham
Perpetrating a flim-flam
They just shot Uncle Sam!
In Helsinki with a battering ram
Is it necessary to draw a diagram?
In order for you to understand
That all of it must have been preplanned

They met in private
With no notetakers
Under the guise of  peacemakers
Just like your average lawbreakers
Doing their best to throw haymakers
See neither one of them are Quakers
But they’re con men outright fakers
Playing ball like the new Lakers

I blame the one,
But not the both
Cuz Putin didn’t swear an oath
He wants to stymie our growth
And Trump’s playing with half a loaf
For his base which he betroth
But which of them hates us the most
It’s hard to say, yet he’ll still boast

He doesn’t care about us
So he’s betrayed his sacred trust
In order to do what he must
To protect himself and to adjust
Even if we all go bust
Making America how he discussed
Despite the economy being robust
He’s unworthy of our trust







Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018.  All rights reserved.
Deovrat Sharma Jul 2021
●●●
do you remember
our first meeting
we both were
anonymous
neither me
nor you
were famous

we haven't seen
to each other even
not having any  point
common to discuss
seems it was
just a coincidence

we meet as we might
be having some relationship
since  inception of universe
you might be a little bit
uncomfortable
restless reluctant
and quit nervous

however
I was confident
that's why on the outset
in front of you
I confess
or otherwise
something else

It was
almost
certain that
nature itself
having preplanned
our first meeting for us

I never been in position
to reveal the truth now or then
although I only know one thing
that without  having you in my life
I could never been experience
true love, joy and success

●●●
©deovrat "अयन"  12.07.2021
#meeting #wod #deovrat
Andrew Rueter Apr 2020
I live between church and society
never entering either entirely
I go to church and sing with God in me
but each memorable melodic monody
sounds increasingly odd to me
when there are only flaws I see.

Last night I had a horrid dream
I was with my worship team
when their worship scheme
resembled war ship steam.

It seemed like a normal service
but tonight we had special guests
the kind that can afford to purchase
every bell and whistle, nothing less.

I was to be their guide on tonight's spiritual ride
I trailed them like their extravagant robes
wishing to be someone people flock to in droves
but all I have are my words
and the Holy Spirit
so I sing like a bird
with radio interference.

Despite my best intentions of making a good impression
the service was a disaster in need of a master
unchecked videos wouldn't work
preplanned cues were missed
responsibilities were shirked
and I was ******.

My worship team started complaining
in a manner I found to be draining
because my must-see team of trusty steeds
had morphed into prima donna demon llamas
passing the buck and saying "that *****".

Under our Jesus painting
a sight has shanked me
a fire breaking
through our mistaking.
When the fire is small
it's no big deal
but once it grows tall
it becomes real.

We all had to evacuate
for firefighting to actuate
our realization of facts too late
that we'd failed a task too great.
I take my family to the church attic
away from all the stampede traffic
I think up there we can hack it
and look at the area impacted.

The sanctuary is a giant ember
yet dripping wet
I want to return to sender
fire grips me best
and grows at my behest
an emerging inferno infects
the sanctuary's rest.

Understanding danger
I escape with my family
outside with strangers
who all stand with me
we cry over spilt ilk
and brick that wilts.

But people toned down their tears
and stifled their sobs
like silencing fear
was their only job
so as the church was mourned
a makeshift line was formed
to consign Satan's scorn
and be alive and born.

They lined down the street
a church without seats
they still needed to speak
and seek out the meek.
They started praying together
praying for healing
not for the church to be better
but each other's feelings
their friends that were reeling
still needed the word so appealing.

I look back at the church
but I don't see it there
I don't lament its worth
or complain it's unfair
I save my despair
for those that need care.
A humble abode has replaced the opulent cathedral
where the ****** of the masses once found its needle
now there's a house that's meek like the women inside
could this be the house by which God wants me to abide?
I open the doors
and walk right in
I can feel in my core
the removal of sin.
based on a friend's dream
Kaitland Dec 2020
Fate I believe is true
Most disagree on this topic
But I must believe it
For my life too sour
To swallow a spoonful without belief
If everything happens for a reason
My suffering somehow preplanned
I can open my mouth and pretend
This bittersweet sadness will end.
Diana May 2019
~
1. Carry a humble confidence
With you
Everywhere you go
~
2. Be spontaneous
Because the best memories (typically)
Are never preplanned
~
3. Realize that you are
Beautiful
Intelligent
Warm-hearted
But never
Allow any one of those traits
Define you
~
4. Learn to love yourself
Before deciding to fall in love
With another
~
5. Never compare yourself
To something or someone
That you were never meant to be
Compare yourself to who you were
And will be
~
6. Never crave validation
Of your worth
Through the meaningless words
Of people who don't truly understand
Or know you
~
7. Most importantly
Live.
In.
The.
Moment.
Because life's too precious
To have your focus be in anyplace
But where you currently are
~
9. Embrace all emotions
With spiritual discernment
There is no such thing
As a good or bad emotion
There are
Positive and negative emotions
And both are meant to be felt
~
10. There is a reason you feel an emotion
It is your body
Trying to tell you something
Listen
There’s a reason you’re feeling that emotion
Pay attention to your body
~
11. Never marry someone
Unless you’ve seen them
When they’re
Sick
Stressed out
And angry
It is when we are in dire situations
When our true character is tested
~
12. Others do onto you
As they wish others do onto them
~
13. People crave to be reflected
And validated in their emotions
Just as a baby and their caregiver
regardless of their age
~
14. Two words
Mimetic Theory
By Rene Girard
Go look it up
~
15. Go and flirt with that person
You think is cute
Life is too short to over analyze everything
~
16. Play the naïve narrative
It’ll work in your favor
sometimes
~
17. Recognize pretty privilege
It’s a real thing
Be cautious and careful with it
~
18. Have grace towards others
They are just projecting their trauma
It’s nothing personal to you
They’re dealing in the ways they learned
At an early age
~
19. You have the power
To break the cycles in your life
NUEROPLASTICITY
~
20. You will change
Find sometime whose own growth
Compliments yours
~
21. Depressive days
Are healing days too
Sometimes you need to take a break
From always thinking and reflecting
~
22. When you get emotional
You enter into your limbic brain
And rational thought is hindered
Because you are no longer in your
Prefrontal cortex
~
23. Any deviation from the norm
Or extremes
Calls for a red flag
It doesn’t necessarily mean that there is
Something wrong
But that there’s something
Worth taking notice
~
24. Your vulnerability is a gift
Not everyone deserves to
Receive it
~
25. Parenting is the process
Of equipping an individual
To become autonomous
And guiding them
To discover their personal identity
While you sit back and admire their discovery
In every high and low
Which means
Your children
May not have similar beliefs or tastes as you
And that is okay
~
26. You are not responsible
To be someone’s
Savior
Therapist
Drug
Crutch
Lover
~
27. your features
don't go in and out of style
~
28. five years form today (5-24-20)
you will be the same person that you are today
except for the books you read and the people you meet
~
29. sometimes people are beautiful
not in looks
nit in what they say
just in the way they are
~
30. a person in two months
can make you feel
what a person in two years couldn't
time means nothing
character does
~
31. if you're feeling down tonight
think five years ahead
think of all the good music you'll hear
between now and then
all the places you'll visit
all the food you'll eat
maybe you'll have even met the love of your life
i know life can get hard
but better things await
seek hope
~
32. i wonder how many people meet the person
they once were
and feel like they're staring at a stranger
~
33. find someone who will treat you this way
"we're all the same, we're all ****."
"this guy in front of me isn't ****,
and i'll still be here when you finally believe it too."
~
34. there are moments you remember
and
people you will never ******* forget
~
35. no onw knows us
not the human fragile parts of us
i dont think they'll ever stop
unless they see
~
36. there will be times
where you cannot change
you cannot change your parents
you cannot change your friends
there will be times
where others will refuse to accept your change
respect yourself and them
let go
maybe the version you want the to be
isn't the one they ever wanted
don't go backwards
your change happened for a reason
~
37. make your heart
the prettiest thing about you
~
38. be aware of your
emotions
thoughts
stereotypes you have of others
stereotypes others have of you
don't feel shame or embarrassment
instead
view them without judgement
but
do be aware of them and work with them
~
39. learn to be intentional
with everything that you do
~
40. seek to see the other perspective
in every moment in life
you are given the opportunity
to see life from another perspective
which breeds compassion
~
41. the worst kind of loneliness
is to not be comfortable with yourself
~
42. "I like people
who have a sense of individuality
I love expression
and anything awkward and imperfect
because that’s natural
and that’s real" - Marc Jacobs
~
43.“I like how sleeping next to someone
means more than ***
sometimes
its's the body’s way of saying
‘I trust you to be by my side at my most vulnerable time’
you have no defenses when you are asleep
you tell no lies”
~
44. do you ever get weirded out
by the fact that everyone around you
is constantly within their own mind
and thinking a million secret thoughts
and battling internal struggles
just like you
and that you’re not the only one who thinks these things
and that the people around you
aren’t just faces meant to fill up your life
but they’re actually really deep people
who have a lot more to them
than you ever actually even think about
~
45. take a deep breath
take a shower
clean your room
watch a movie
take some time for yourself
~
46. my ultimate life hack
i never wear makeup
except for occasions where i want to feel overly hot/professional
this way
people who see me everyday won’t be shocked
when i don’t wear makeup
they will instead be shocked
at how much hotter i can become
how much potential i don’t unlock
for no reason other than laziness
~
47. sometimes
the person you want most
is the person you're best without
~
48. i am mine
before i am anyone else's
~
49. my father told me once
to never date anyone
who talks smoothly around you from the start
because if someone likes you
they should be a little nervous
~
50.
~
51.
~
52.
~
53.
~
54.
Feel free to add rules in the comments below :)
Love connects hearts
It does not need a language
And neither a gender
nor an interest
The best love does not
have need of respond
It comes as if preplanned
You can see it when
a child is playing with a pet
where nothing is set
and nothing is wet
A sermon,
of a sort, one
of a kind classified

prosopopoeia literally
a form or figure of speech,
answering a proposed query,

who what when where or why.

Centering our attention on why,
I shall endeavor, as I have heard
sermocinators originally served

those lacking book learning

with oral interpretation
on duty and debt, et cetera.
Sermocinations.
So, to use the time alloted
to retie the tie binding duty
and honor to the story told

in generally Christmas and Easter,
congregations of true traditionalists.

Our duty,
after tariffs on attention paid
football and all ball based
forms fertilized and fed
with yeastyeatsweets
at local circuses,
- stuck in costume
- take the collar off
- symbolically we do
- all we have
- to do
- nada mas, the traditions
- the cultural square laws
- stacking steep or straight
cotton candy pink

and now, local news,
wherever you may think
we use magic wherewith we
- impose Jello time, allowing
- our posed media shared mind
- state works with thinking letting
- letters form words from thoughts,

Thunk,
enscribe truths heard in wordform
seen in letters long since become
common,
to any able ever
to think,
pen and ink,
at the rate of cursive text to
press to
whom, objective subject re
submission, to a public mind re
whom do we turn, verily we kind
we category of mankind, unsorted
remnemonic palaces of liturgical awe
into heform sheform weform, mixed us,
untried spirits, most of us never thunk once
we the receivers warming the pews, expecting

or saying we do. Amen.
Sermon sayers saying same preplanned response.

Riddle me a riddle, Zeke,
whose holy stories hide
behind discipline, price paid, most honed
duty engrained since first communion, accepted
as common sense since first witnessed
on TV,
by the now grandfathering endurers
survivors of the mind wars, religious wars,
and mindshare wars after all attention was

valued on scales we stagger to think
we tip over backwards looking up to think

how can I look through the JWST.
How can any not attempt
to grasp the expanse
crossed since Alamogordo,
epimethean destiny makes religamentation work.
Did we ever wonder if saying amen means anything?
Indeed, mental enmonic   -non sense there's no such
Mnemonic, e-lessly de
memory neuronal response tool re
taught in rhetoric courses all bishops take,
courses,
of course, all who feel such duty calling, take
the same courses through human events as we

listen, as the winds list,
as we lean into the rhetorical
oracle of certainty central
inside job creative theory,
no outside sapience needed
to shape us,
as a we
form
touch
the ruling point, mean middle
to existing
on Earth, as words alone,
after all's been said.
Dendritic silk
Told known done
by confessing having will
to believe,
-- thickened time is pudding's proof

reality and time and all those other clusters
of weform organized societies, where children learned,

by royal decree, all children need be Starlinked to vote,

say what? Say what you think
in plain text translatable
cognatively allowing globalized Macaroni poetic license,

you know what I mean,
but in other words,
we agree, base
mind we form,
we
reading for the fun of it,
to get the feel of words as common as get
gotten and forgotten tenthousand times today,

there is a river, many messengers attest, a flow,
the  mind form imaginable in holy tellings of knowledge

science true call using knowledge with science,
consci used as psi or psy or gno or know is used,

to think, just
stop/think

Ai, you know, I would, as wills being imaginably
done, you know, I would, if I were you, enjoy

the time it takes

to read with all new words, to think your self
just ified, made up in a mind, inside
at least infested imaginably
with many verbs, set
to respond

to sponsors calling all who see
to see the mark
of me,
my weform, my teamform, my loyalty defining we form,

from which,
howling poets ever were out cast,

alas, but the Greeks had a word
for everything, the logos set of all Logos Sets,

tinker toys
erector sets
electric trains, and guns
these were toys of rich little boys

in America, as seen on TV in Tijuana

Waves, gentle, thinking price to know, ra'
as a thought, high e to compute a worth, towb
beautiful

tapestries, tries, thinking
in cursive tip preserving,

delicate touch tip to lip,

Sermonic deontological slip

up yours, the local team roars
all laughing like we were involved
no delay, west wall sunny day Febru=
februarius mensis "month of purification,"

so, as sermons granted whole days to happen
as such must agree who followed today, as hapt

to seem strange, by design
a quest toward the very answer we expect.


--- mindhat pause
Literally letting words mean all they may
in actual Wikipedian translations thinkable
across the spectrum, we form to make our

point, why are we involving you, or me, for
that which matters does not matter much for me.

Kinda wanna think it madjathank at a point thunk.

Power On Self Test

Invest the rest of one day in a story,
to discern the point to this course through

known, by word of mouth, mostly, through
time barely rememorable, mostly among
Latch key syndrome urban and rural

recollectable signs we shoulda seen,
but life, particularly self fulfilling bets
put in the time to see the first Jubilee,

and for many, learning once, in truth,

trade in a band of brothers mythic honor form,
a we of honed most blades in service of science,
slicing ever more gently the material reality, as we
scratch the beards on old men faces
we wear to bed at night, and find on other
peacemakers, earth as it must be where peace
abides, in truth, not entertained unawares, peace
made thinkably possible if pride were devalued.

Perfectly said, one thought, I heard go ding.
We are on the same page here, there is one thing

past understanding,

kindness rules evolution, we hate to differ,
we love to conjoin realities we each have endured

this is us, once more, forming a big parade,
or a strand of the stuff we see weaving galaxies

at scales only minds unbound by letters relax
loose
bowels of courage gut felt punched, too often,
gnoshit, Forrest Gump hit a nerve.

Whose is the audience, since all the world's
our stage, all active words advance

on step up, two steps back, onstep up, and so on…
element after loving simple long enough, you see

— The End —