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Julian Mar 2019
Tantalized by the fractious limerence of a vestigial habiliment of the old order, we conclude that hypertrophy leads to a limbo where random permutations alloyed by the rickety limits of concatenation subsume concepts that are equivocal but populate the imaginations of newfangled art forms that jostle the midwives of rumination to lead to unique pastures that are intuitively calibrated to correspond to definitive unitary events in conceptual space that sprawl unexpectedly towards the desultory but determinative conclusion of a meandering ludic sphere of rambunctious sentiments cobbled together to either rivet the captive audience or annoy the peevish criticaster when they dare to inseminate the canvassed and corrugated tract of intellectual territory created ad hoc to swelter the imagination with audacious ingenuity that is an inevitable byproduct of lexical hypertrophy. In this séance with the immaterial realm of concept rather than the predictable clockwork reductivism of a perceptual welter that is limited by the concretism circumscribed by spatiotemporal stricture we find that an extravagant twinge of even the smallest tocsin in the interstitial carousel of conscientious subroutines compounding recursively to pinprick the cossetted smolder of potentiality rather than extravagate into the vacancy of untenanted nullibiety can spawn a progeny of utilities and vehicles for dexterous abstraction that poach the exotic concepts we fathom by degrees of sapience malingering in lifeless bricolages of erratic abstraction in manners useful to transcend the repose of abeyance and heave awakening into the slumberous caverns of still-life to make them dynamically animated to capture ephemeral events that defy the demarcations of wistful indelicacy of the encumbered bulk of insufficient precision.

Today we embark on a quest to defile the anoegenetic recapitulation of canon that litters the dilapidated avenues of miserly contemplation that has a histeriological certainty and feeds the engines that enable novelty but ultimately remain rancid with the stench of the idiosyncratic shibboleths of synoptic alloyed impoverishment that leads to the vast wasteland of cremated entropy that is a stained foible of misappropriated context interpolated usefully as botched triage for daunting problems that require a nimble legerdemain of facile versatility that we easily adduce to conquer the present with the botched memorial of a defunct salience. Despite the travail of scholars to retreat from the frontier into the hypostatized hegemony of recycled credentialed information, we often are ensnared by the solemn attrition of decay as we traverse the conceptual underpinnings of all bedrock thought only to dangle precariously near the void of lapsed sentience because of transitory incontinence that is contiguous to the doldrums of crudity but nevertheless with mustered mettle we purport that the very self-serious awakening to our hobbling limitations is akin to a prosthetic enhancement of ratiocination capable of feats that stagger beneath the lowest level of subtext to elevate the highest superordinate categorization into heightened scrutiny that burgeons metacognitive limber. Marooned in the equipoise of specifiable enlightenment countermanded by the strictures of working memory we can orchestrate transverse pathways between the elemental quiddity of impetuous meaning and the dignified tropes of transitivity that bequeaths entire universes with feral progeny that modulate their ecosystems with both a taste of approximated symmetry and a cohesive enterprise for productivity that rests on the granular concordance of the highest plane to the indivisible parcels of atomic meaning that solder together to exist as intelligible if strained by the primordial frictions guaranteed by the brunt of motion incipient because of the metaphorical inertia created within insular universes to inform sprawling conurbations of mobilized thoughts designed to reckon with the breakneck pace of the corresponding reality to which they explicitly and precisely refer to.

We must singe surgically the filigrees that amount to the perceptible realities that transmute temperaments into the liturgy of routine conflated with the rigmarole of neural dragnets of reiterative quips in an elegant game of raillery with our supernal contumacy against the rigid authority of aleatory vagaries mandated by a dually arbitrary universe in a probabilistic terpsichorean dance with the depth of our dredge for subliminal acuity or the shallow bellicosity of common modes of glib contemplation characteristic of the basic nobility of improvisation. This basic interface with the world can either be mercurial or tranquil based on the interactionism of the enfeebled trudge of surface senses or blunt intuitions and the smoldering impact of the vestigial cloaks that deal gingerly with the poignant subtext evoked in the cauldron of immediacy rather than pondered with the portentous weight of imperative singularities of uniqueness derived from the plunge into the arcane citadel of microscopic introspection so refined that the ineffable drives we seek to fathom become amenable to the traipse of transcendental time that rarefies itself by defying the brunt of compartmentalized bureaucracies administered by the fulcrum of stereotypical notions of acquired gravitas imputed to mundane pedestrian quidnunc concerns that defile humanity rather than embolden the subaudition of gritty punctilios that show the supernal powers of the axiomatic divinity of sharpened sentience to reign with supremacy over the baser ignoble components of bletcherous nescience that leads to knee-**** platitudes that provoke folksy peevish divisions. We should rather orchestrate our activity by heeding the admonishment about the primogeniture of poignant sabotage buffered by the remonstration of innate tranquility and finding a whipsawed compromise of rationalization with true visceral encounters with the fulgurant quips of brisk emotions that grind industriously into amorphous retinues of the trenchant human imagination to either equip or hobble the leapfrogged interrogation of veracity and more consequently our notions of truth and fact.

When we see the hackneyed results of default ecological dynamics, we find ourselves aloof from purported transcendence because the whimpered bleats and cavils of the importunate masses result in a deafening din of cacophony because we strive throbbing with sprightliness towards the galloped chase of tantalization without the luxury of a terminus for satiation. Obviously a growth mindset is the galvanic ****** that spawns the imaginative swank of the pliable modulations of our perceived reality that, when protean, showcase the limitless verve of our primordial cacoethes for epigenetic evolution rather than the stolid and staid foreclosure of impervious sloth that memorializes the gluttony of speculation about fixed entities rather than imperative jostling urbanity that dignifies the brackish dance with dearth and the exuberant savory taste of momentary excess because it engages the animated pursuit of limerence rather than the exhumed corpse of wistful regret. Nature is a cyclical clockwork system of predatory instinct met with the clemency of the prosperous providence enacted by the travailing ingenuity of successive cumulative generativities that compounded unevenly and unpredictably to predicate a fundamental zeitgeist calculated to engorge the fattened resources of the resourceful and temper the etiolated dreams of the fringed acquiescence of a hulking prejudiced population of dutiful servants that balk at the diminutive prospects of a lopsided distribution of talent and means but slumber in irenic resolve created by the merciful hands of defensive designs that configure consciousness to relish comparative touchstones rather than absolute outcomes that straggle beyond a point of enviable reference to shield the world of the barbarism of botched laments clamoring for an uncertain grave from the gravity of the orbiting satellites of apportioned wealth both sunblind and boorish but simultaneously inextricable from the acclimated fortune of heaped nepotism and herculean opportunism. The intransigence of the weighted destiny of inequity is a squalid enterprise of primeval abrasive and combative tendencies within the bailiwick of the indignant compass inherent to the system that fathoms its deficiencies with crabwise and gingerly pause but airs a sheepish grievance like a bleat of self-exculpation but simultaneously an arraignment of fundamental attribution erroneously indicted without the selfsame reflexiveness characteristic of a transcendent being with other recourses to clamber an avenue to Broadway without malingering in the slums of opprobrious ineffectual remonstration against the arrangement of a blinkered metropolis of uneven gentrification.

We flicker sometimes between the strategic drivel of appeasement and the candor of audacious imprecation of the culprits of indignity or considerate nutritive encomium of the beacons of ameliorated enlightenment because we often masquerade a half-witted glib consciousness lazily sketched by the welters of verve alloyed with the rancid distaste of squalor and slumber on the faculty of conscientious swivels of prudential expeditions with an avarice for bountiful considered thought and wily contortions of demeanor that issue the affirmative traction of adaptive endeavor to cheat a warped system for a reconciled peace and a refined self-mastery. We need to traduce the urchins that sting the system with pangs of opprobrious ballyhoo and the effluvia of foofaraw that contaminate with pettifoggery and small-minded blather the arenas better suited for the gladiatorial combat of cockalorums tinged with a dose of intellectual effrontery beyond the span of dogmatism rather than the hackneyed platitudes that infest the news cycle with folksy backwardation catered to the fascism of a checkered established press that urges insurrection while tranquilizing dissent against the furtive actions of consequence hidden behind the draped verdure of pretense whose byproduct is only a self-referential sophistry that swarms like an intractable itch to devolve the spectator into a pasquinaded spectacle of profound human obtuseness that pervades malignantly the system of debate until the reductionists outwit themselves with the empty prevarication of circular logic that deliberately misfires to miss the target of true importance because of the pandered black hole easily evaded by creatures of high sentience but inevitably ensnaring the special kind of dupe into a cycle of bellicose ferocity of internecine balkanization. The vainglory of the omphalos of entertainment is also another reckoning because it festers a cultural mythos of glorified crapulence parading a philandered promiscuity with half-baked antics that gravitate attention and the lecheries of gaudy tenses of recycled tinsel alloyed by debased aberrations of seedy grapholagnia that magnetize as they percolate because of the insidious catchphrases embedded in pedestrian syncopation that ignite retention and acclimate to mediocrity the sounds of generations discolored by faint pasty rainbows rather than ennobled by majestic landscapes of ignipotent mellifluous sound that stands a supernal amusement still for the resourceful trainspotter.

Despite the contumely aimed in the direction of contrarians for deviating from the lockstep clockwork hustle of stooped pandered manipulation that peddles the wares of an entirely counterfeit reality, I stand obstinately against the melliferous stupefaction of entire genres of myth and subcultures huddled around the sentimental tug of factitious sophistries regaled by thick amorphous apostates that cherish the vacuous sidetracked spotlight with fervor rather than pausing on the enigmatic querulous inquisition about the penumbras that lurk with strained effort beneath or above the categorical nescience of the shadowy unknown that often coruscates with elegance even in obscurity. I fight with labored words to spawn a psychological discipline that invokes the incisive subaudition of the pluckily pricked exorcism of true insight from the husk of buzzwords that constellate auxiliary tangential distractions from the art form of psychological discernment that predicates itself on the concept that the rarefaction of rumination by degrees of microscopic precision enables the introspective hindsight of conscious events that can be parsed without the acrimony of cluttered conflations of the granular prowess of triumphant ratiocination that earns a panoramic perch with the added luxury of perspicacious insight into the atomic structure of the rudiments of our phenomenological field and the abstractions that linger beyond perceptual categorization. When we analyze the gradients of anger, for example, we can either be ****** into a brooded twinge of wistful resentment or we can decipher that through heuristics designed to cloister the provenance of subconscious repose with ignorance there exists a regimented array of tangential accessories embedded deep within the cavernous repository of memory that designates a cumulative trace of compounded symmetries of concordant experience immediately perceptible because of the tangible provocateur of our gripes and the largely subliminal tusk that protrudes because of primal instinct that squirms with peevishness because of the momentary context preceded by the desultory churn of smoldering associations swimming with either complete intangible sputtered mobility through the tract of subconscious hyperspace or rigidly fixated by an arraignment of circumstances with propinquity to the deep unfathomed flicker of bygones receding or protruding because of the warped and largely unpredictable rigmarole of constellated spreading activation.  
When we examine the largesse of the swift recourse of convenience we forget by degrees the travail that once bridged the span of experience from patient abeyance in provident pursuit to now the importunate glare of inflated expectations for immediacy that stings the whole enterprise of societal dynamics because it vitiates us with a complacency for the filigrees of momentary tinsel of a virtualized reality divorced from the concretism that used to undergird interaction and now stands outmoded as a wisp beyond outstretched hands straggling beyond the black mirror of a newfangled narcissistic clannishness that shepherds the ostentation of conceit to a predominant position that swaddles us with fretful diversion that operates on a warped logic of lurid squalor and pasty trends becoming the mainstays of a hypercritical linguistic system of entrapment based on the apostasy of candor for the propitiation of fringed aberration because of the majoritarian uproar about touchy butthurt pedantic criticasters with a penchant for persnickety structuralism. With the infestation of entertainment with the ubiquitous political cavils engineered by the ruling class to have a common arena of waggish irreverence we forget that sometimes the impetuous ****** of propaganda is cloaked by the fashionable implements of a rootless time writhing in a purported identity crisis only to gawk at the ungainly reflection of modernity in the mirror and remain blissfully unaware about the transmogrified cultural psyche that feeds the lunacy of endless spectacle based on the premise that one singular whipping post can unite an entire generation of miscegenated misfits looking for commonality to team up against the aging generations that cling to the sanctity of cherished jingoism against the intentionality of a revamped system that malingers with empty promises using exigency and legerdemain to obscure the mooncalves among their ranks that march on with quixotic dreams that tolerate only the idea of absolute tolerance and moderate only when feasibly permitted by the anchored negotiation of the fulcrum of totemic governmental responsibility between factions that wage volleys of invective at each other to promote a binary choice of vitiated compromises of mendaciloquence that ultimately endanger the republic with either the perils of hidebound conventionalism and nativist fervor or the boondoggles of fiscally irresponsible insanity cloaked with rainbows and participation trophies. Reproach can be distributed to both sides of the aisle because ironically in a world where gender is non-binary the most important reproductive ***** in the free world is a binary-by-default despotism that polarizes extremely ludic fantasies on the left met with the acrimony of the traditionalisms on the right that staunchly resist the fatuous confusions of delegated order only to the sharp rebuke of the revamped political vogue that owes its sustenance to a manufactured diplomacy of saccharine lies and ubiquitous lampoons that are lopsided in the direction of a globalist neoliberal bricolage of moderately popular buzzwords and the trojan horse of insubordinate flippant feminism that seeks to subvert through backhanded manipulation the patriarchy so many resent using lowbrow tactics and poignant case studies rather than legislating the egalitarian system into law using the proper channels. I myself am a political independent who sides with fiscal conservatism but libertarianism in most other affairs because the pettifoggery of law-and-order politics is a diatribe overused by sheltered suburbanites and red meat is often just as fatuous as blue tinsel and sadly in a majoritarian society the ushers of conformity demand corporate divestiture in favor of an ecological system of predictability rather than an opinionated welter of legitimate challenges to a broken system of backwards partisanship and wangled consent. Ultimately, I remain mostly apolitical, but I am a fervent champion of the mobilization of education to a statelier standard that demands rigor and responsibility rather than the chafe of rigmarole that understates the common objectives of humanity and rewards conventional thinking and nominal participation to earn credentialed pedigree when the bulk of talent resides elsewhere.
Mary McCray Apr 2015
(NaPoWriMo Challenge: April 25, 2015)

The tendency to judge harmful actions as worse, or less moral, than equally harmful omissions.

The tendency to persuade oneself through rational argument that a purchase was a good value.


It's late at night and I'm forty years into a very thorough and consumerist collection of the vast ouvre of Cherilyn Sarkisian, 60s street urchin turned enshrined Hollywood A-lister -- iconic up there with Halston, Bianca, Liz and Jackie.

Paper and vinyl and electromagnetic tape, discs and cassettes and books and blankets and dolls and perfumes and magnets. Words and music and ideas every one purchased from corporations and strangers and seven 7-inch picture discs bartered online from a friend I didn't know I would one day meet.

It's late and I've been the Wrecking Crew premiere, sitting in the middle
of an Albuquerque scene of sorts,  the documentary opening at the local art house with me wedged between California-Sound fanatics. I'm sitting next to an oldies DJ everybody in town seems to knows but me.

The DJ laments how political the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is, (but then aren't they all?), and how Chubby Checker has yet to be inducted. As I see Cher self-depricate through the movie, I know she's an outsider to even this outsider culture. And if we peruse the halls rosters, we can easily make her case. But omissions always mean something. My basement full of memorabilia tells me what ain't right. But that's the bias talking. The same bias that gets The Byrds inducted, those who we've just learned didn't even play on their own records, or the theatrics of Alice Cooper, or the season of Ricky Nelson, or the artifice of KISS, Madonna....I've spent a fortune but just wait until the book comes out.

Post-purchase rationalizations, aren't they all?
Go see The Wrecking Crew movie. Went to the Q and A tonight to listen to stories of directory Denny Todesco.
Ariel Taverner Jan 2014
You know how people say 'I cry everyday'
Im not like that I
should cry everyday
but I don't allow myself to

I am in constant battle with myself.
Emotions vs. Rationalization

And every time my emotions win they send me to hell until rationalization or forgetfullness pulls me back

My emotions say things like 'your useless'
'nobody loves you'
'you should die'
and I know these are lies but the thing Is that coz I know they are lies it hurts even more that I would betray myself like that
And this happens all the time
When rationalization wins im sane for a while but I know it won't last long becsuse the emotions become more while my rationalization is constant.  Strong but constant.  
So I wait in constant fear of when it boils over. In fear of the pain my fuckedupness will cause others coz my emotions control me and say nasty things to others. And seeing your pain hurts me
And you may not hate me but my emotions hate me.  
And if I hate someone I cause them pain because I dont easily hate someone.
So this is me
This is who I am



And I hate it
Probably the most honest thing I have ever written
Mouth Piece Feb 2014
We overestimate the probability of the improbable through eyes and ears that are susceptible to vivid imagery. Social media screams that 100 people died from poisoned cantaloupes instead of saying in less emotional terms 100 in 7,000,000,000 or .000000000001% of the population. Really It’s all about fear and manipulation. You viewed all the news interviews, watched YouTube videos and even read the compelling articles. Now you’re in the grocery store avoiding cantaloupes like the plague because you might be next! Conversely in positive outcomes this is the same rationalization that compels people to buy jack *** lottery tickets. Can you see how we extremely over weighting the probabilities of events based on the vividness and prevalence of the coverage? The news—the government---companies---all individuals have agendas but not everyone is looking out for your best interest. Many are “wolves in sheep’s clothing” that feed on these manipulations in regards to rare events with the sole purpose to covertly produce a particular behavior that prospers outcomes that are favorable to their own position.

Now her goes the paradox of overestimation and underestimation in regards to rare events. A strange thing happens when rare events are not being perceived vividly through our senses. They are simply ignored! We no longer over estimate probabilities but instead begin to under estimate probability! For example during Hurricane Katrina victims yielded to evacuate due to this under estimation. The probability of the rare event was neglected in part to lack of vividness. In hindsight they seemed foolish for not leaving but in actuality were quite human in their behavior that lacked the emotional experience towards the rare event (obviously the decision was intertwined with a myriad of other individual variables). In the aftermath the vividness of the Hurricane’s media coverage allows the opposite to occur once more---a heavy overestimation of a future storms probability. This produces disproportionate fears for many in regards to actual hurricane probabilities. Leaving the door open for exploitation.

What we see is a human nature that goes extremely over or under in estimations towards the outcomes of rare events compared to the events actual probabilities. The danger is that people know this!! They can pump your head with what they want you to overestimate and be silent on what they’d like you to neglect, all in the manipulation of their cause. The perceived good guy can easily be one in the same with the bad guy. The best sociopaths are quite charming. People can easily be manipulated with the news and Youtube videos for example. Often times the information provided has traces of truth that are used to spark emotions that lead an individual further away from actuality while simultaneously using them towards their own divisive agendas. They will stay silent to other matters---producing neglect till it’s time to play the good guy once the neglected issue (often created themselves) explodes. In the after math the information they provide makes you feel empowered but it's only manipulating you further into their own aspirations--they look like a hero for doing it --again they produce the overestimations of fear where they want while staying silent to what they wish for you to neglect. Whether it’s the government, a conspiracy theorist or a manipulating relationship partner be attuned to how we process information and the susceptibility to manipulation (overestiamation-underestimation). Although not every situation is a source of manipulation from others it would be unwise to neglect the fact that our own emotions can lead us to these same ignorances all by our selves. I give glory and honor to my Savior Jesus Christ for this knowledge in which Faith in Him alone helps me discern and weight the emotional information and there intentions
R J Coman Dec 2018
A Haiku

Can fish perceive pain?
Some of us say they cannot,
so we can hurt them.
Poetic T Dec 2014
I corrupted flesh with mere words
It was as if the moment had
Released,
Injected,
Thoughts
Upon a mind inviting it in.
I had spoken and then was let in
"Could a soul"
"Could flesh"
"Could a mind"
Have been so weak.. Like a voodoo doll,
It was like the needle
Injecting
Movement,
Rationalization,
"Upon a weak craving mind"
A hand full of Strings worded right,
"I was the puppet master of word"
You were not the only strings pulled
\      /      /
/       \    \
\        /      /
  /        \     \
"Corrupted with words"
And even not knowing you were
"One of my puppets"
Fighting your self or so you thought
Free will is an illusion, easily
Tainted, controlled.  
You were lingering on every
Letter,
Syllable.
Words
Were your weakness and
Now mine are **yours..
Words are Power...
Vani j Aug 2016
I am the product of lost civilization;
hanging in between circles  of  modernization ;
who tells
Whether its rising or setting of sun  or globalization
The era of bindis
Or glamorization
Of going to Pubs
or piligrimization
Of  mothers going to kitty parties  
and  of socialization
Of works of Picasso's    
Or hussainization
Of  belief of gods
Or Sensationalization
Of act of democracy
Or  just rationalization
Of laws of science
Or limitization
Of acts of defiance
Or patronization
Of loss of love                        
Or dehumanization
Of views of people
Or individualization
Conor Oberst Sep 2012
Did you expect it all to stop at the wave of your hand?
Like the sun's just going to drop if it's night you demand.
Well, in the dark we're just air, so the house might dissolve.
But once again we are gone. Who's going to care if we were ever here at all?
Well summer's going to come; it's gonna cloud our eyes again.
No need to focus when there's nothing that's worth seeing.
So we trade liquor for blood in an attempt to tip the scales.
I think you lost what you loved in that mess of details.
They seemed so important at the time,
but now you can't recall any of the names, faces, or lines;
it's more the feeling of it all.
Well, winter's going to end. I'm going to clean these veins again.
So close to dying that I finally can start living.

"Hi, we're back. This is radio KX and we're here with Conor Oberst of the band Bright Eyes. How are you doing Conor?"
"Fine, thanks. Just a little wet."
"Oh, it's still coming down out there?"
"Yeah, I sort of had to run from the car."
"Well we're glad you made it! Now, your album 'Fevers and Mirrors'... tell us about the title. I know there's a good deal of repeated imagery in the lyrics; fevers, mirrors, scales, clocks. Could you discuss some of this?"
"Sure, let's see... the fevers..."
"First, First let me say that, this is a brilliant record, man, we're all really into it here at the station and we get lots of calls, it's really good stuff."
"Thanks. Thanks a lot."
"So talk about some of the symbolisms."
"The fever?"
"Sure!"
"Well, the fever is basically, what ever ails you, or oppresses you... It could be anything. In my case it's my neurosis, my depression... but I don't want it to be limited to that... it's certainly different for different people. It's whatever keeps you up at night."
"I see."
"And the, and the mirror's like, as you might have guessed, self-examination, or reflection, or whatever form. This could be vanity, or self loathing. I, I know I'm, I'm guilty of both."
"That's interesting. How about the scale?"
"The scales are essentially our attempt to solve our problems quantitatively, through logic or rationalization. In my opinion it's often fruitless, but... always, no, not always... And the clocks and calendars it's uh... is just... time... our little measurements, it's like, it's always chasing after us."
"It is. It is. Uh, How about this Arienette, how does she fit into all this?"
"Um, I'd prefer not to talk about it, in case she's listening."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize she was a real person."
"She's not. I made her up."
"Oh, so she's not real?"
"Just as real as you or I."
"I don't think I understand."
"Neither do I, but after I grow up I will. I mean a lot... a lot of things are really unclear for me right now."
"That's interesting. Ah, now you mentioned your depression..."
"...No I didn't."
"You're from Nebraska, right?"
"Yeah. So?"
"Now, let me now if I'm getting too personal, but there seem to be a pretty dark past back there somewhere. What was it like for you growing up?"
"Dark? Not really... uh... actually I had a great childhood, my parents were wonderful. I went to a Catholic school. They have... they had money, so... it... It was all... easy. Basically I had everything I wanted handed to me."
"Really? So some of the references, like babies in bathtubs, are not biographical?"
"Well I do have a brother who died in a bathtub. Drowned. Actually, I had five brothers who died that way."
Chuckles
"No, I'm serious. My mother drowned one every year for five consecutive years. They were all named Padraic, so that's... they all got one song."
"Hmm."
"It's kinda like walking out the door to discover it's a window."
"But your music certainly is very personal."
"Of course. I put a lot of myself into what I do. But it's like, being an author you have to, free yourself to use symbolism and allegory to reach your goal and, and a part of that is, compassion, empathy for other people and their, and their situations. Some of what I sing comes from other people's experiences as well as my own. It... It shouldn't matter, the message is intended to be universal."
"I see what you mean."
"Can you make that sound stop, please?"
"Yes!

...and your goal?"
"I don't know. Uh, create feelings, I guess. A song? It never ends up the way you planned it, though."
"That's funny that you say that, do you think that..."
"Do you ever hear things that aren't really there?"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Never mind. How long have you worked at this station?"
"Oh, just a few minutes. Uh, now you mentioned empathy for others. Would you say that that is what motivates you to make the music that you make?"
"No, not really. It's more a need for sympathy. I want people to feel sorry for me. I like the feel of the burn of the audience's eyes on me when I'm whispering all my darkest secrets into the microphone. When I was a kid, I used to carry this safety pin around with me, everywhere I went in my pocket. And when people weren't paying enough attention to me, I'd dig it into my arm until I started crying. Everyone would stop what they were doing and ask me what was the matter. I guess, I guess I kinda..."
"Really? You're telling me you're doing all this for attention?"
"No, I hate it when people look at me. I get nauseous. In fact, I could care less what people think, about me. Do you feel that? Wanna dance?"
"No, I'm feeling sick."
"I really just wanna be warm yellow light that pours all over everyone I love."
"So, uh, you're gonna play something for us now. Is this a new song?"
"Yeah, but I haven't written it yet. It's one I've been meaning to write, uh, called, "A Song To Pass The Time."
"Oh, that's a nice title."
"No it isn't. You should write your own scripts."
"Yeah, I know!"
Sam Newton Apr 2013
Rivalries are an excuse for animosity to be abused.
A tradition to explain the irrational and depraved.
A justification for future insubordination
Of logical arguments by the sane.

Beasts competed with one another through physical altercations,
But we have evolved to call everyone our brother.
So why is it that we must see fighting between one another?
Why is it that we may not all show that we're lovers?
Is there something wrong with the tolerance of each other?

Whatever rationalization is created for the promotion of hatred,
Should be abolished and ashamed,
That it may show its head and become a vein for placing blame,
Is unsettling all the same.

We are all too similar, and that should not promote altercations of an individual,
Rather it should be used as a connection to the familiar.
It should be used in stride with the builder
Of peace, and a reason for all this nonsense to cease.

We have developed into adults,
and it is time to show this with amiable results.
By citing a rivalry as traditional is exactly the reason
It is sinful.
One day we may see the end of this spitefully built fence,
By breaking down the wall separating far too many of us all.
I hope it is my lifetime here, for failing to unite us,

is my deepest of fears.
daisies Mar 2015
All this while
I was having a tough time
wrapping my mind
around your disappearance.

Life hit me in the face,
jolting me from my fast pace
that I usually strut in, careless
about everything else.

I have an aching feeling in my head,
and a sinking feeling in my heart.
My mouth has gone dry because of it.
Darling, you left me dead.

I am thinking there's something about you
that causes death to all your lovers after you're through,
but I know you never really outgrew
my love. Quite tersely, I put an end to it.

***** the rhymes now, you changed your apartment and number,
and my path has gone askew, and outnumbered.
Oh my love, I wonder helplessly what you're doing
as I sit here and bleed my thumbs out for you.

Laying on my bed, I can't help but reminisce
all our lovely fights, our intimate nights,
and the way you looked me in the eye
and patiently explained why you loved me still.

I cannot, will not regret you.
I cannot, will not forget you.
I cannot, will not forgive you.
And I cannot,* cannot *unlove you.
DC raw love Dec 2014
Rationalization
Participation
Concentration
Manipulation
Devastat­ion
Frustration
Delegation
Completion
Direction
Addiction
Motovation
Contraction­
Perfection
Election
Connection
Commotion
Lotion
Jubilation
Reval­uation
Fibulation
Continuation
Population
Sensation
Complication
­Allegation
Temptation
*******
Proustitution
Execution
Desert­ion
Danielle Rose Jan 2014
If love truly conquers it all
Then I will Fall for everything
Stop playing with mysteries
Gaining faith in the unseen
If we could be saved by a feeling
Then why would I choose otherwise
To discover human remains
Cinched to the rafters
he leapt off
Adorned in the noose
a morbid necklace
Inner turmoil no more to live

A note deserted in drunken scrawl
In shreds
those left behind
Fatherless innocents
inquire why
No rationalization
for a senseless deed

Aching at the formalities
Enduring our shared existence
Bye is the lifetime
that remains in the past
Dried up are all the tears
Angst with respect to an echo
Horror lays imprinted on my mind
Forever gone
Owen Phillips Nov 2012
Even though
The true meaning of these events
Is not the one to which I cling
I will not stop believing
That it may end up that way
I will not stop composing verse
In ode to what I feel
And when the sacred meeting
Comes to pass and isn't fulfilled
I'll be relieved to find that I
Did not act on my will,
For as I know too well, I haven't
Quite the strength
To manifest desires,
But thankfully it's simple
To find some religious rationalization
To limit ourselves
And liberate our experience
effaced Apr 2015
your frontal lobe-where you make all your rationalizations...-
does not fully develop until your early  to mid twenties.
until your frontal lobe can make your rationalizations
the job is temporarily for your amygdala-where you feel all of your emotions...-
they tell my that's why im so upset... to the point where sometimes i can't function but they dont realize that whether or not i know that, my emotions will over-ride it, and they say that we feel that the world is ending, but its not..
but those thoughts and feelings could overwhelm me to the point of ending my world
Austin Heath Jul 2014
This is why the teacher punishes you
for reading too far ahead.
I've worked hard to swim out here
and I just feel hurt and alone;
drifting out at sea.
Being a radical means always
having to be the hysteric or the sensitive.
Apologizing even when
you know you're right.
Being irrational,
when rationalization means
accepting the dominant ideology.
Always having to be wrong,
because of some "crack in your armor"
or some blemish on your record.
Being the biggest ******* in the room,
not even because you want to,
but because you have to.
Alienating everyone.
Capitalize on who you are,
and you can smother everyone eventually!
Your profit is such that you
can push everything away!
Sleep easy knowing you were right.
Sleep easy.
Jerry Desbrow Oct 2013
The trapeze artist without
trapeze,
encased within a paper weight,
reading through eye
glasses crafted for readers
astigmatic use.
This is the mind set...... this is the end truth.......
Being is embryonic,
to become, to the pupal larva,
a new becoming, Life.

               II
Quantum leaps often end in tragedy
               when the time traveler ceases to travel
                         The sudden stop!
Rapid communication......synaptic calibration......recall all yesterdays.
blind intellect               one tenth of one second         15 seconds
The dimensions split and the bicameral mind appears two lobes
right and left, inverted vision adjusted for
mythic fusion,
creating abstracted convolutions
answering to them self. A planet in a galaxy of confusion.

            III

Imagination finding place in the new electronic
institution, man made synaptical illustrations
from pixilated madness.
We take from this..............an
illogical extension of our existence that makes some sense.
We make it such
that it becomes
the most told lie
we believe without questioning.
Till death we do part.

             IV

As I inhale looking at my past...my last past, well
in any case the past is where I just wrote past the last time
like now PAST.
Rationalization is overrated, intellectual *******
is for the cools, and catatonic haze is a new wave drug.
It is early in a new society's evolution.....
It is late in the face of time......
ergo quantum quandary quid pro quo

Ajerry / copyright

                                                                   2013
**I am not sure what the meaning of explicit means to a poet. It does not contain X rated language or sexually explicit acts. Ajanon/ Jerry**
Yasmeen Hamzeh Dec 2014
A laughable matter, how hours seem to change you. Not change you fully, at least not in the way a metamorphosis occurs.
It changes the signs of irritation, the raising alarm and mostly it adds a deep longing.
A familiar feeling weighing down each breath.
It feels like a numb explosion. Like there is more to it, but it never peaks.
It taunts with promises of relief, but leaves you boneless. Instinctively you mark it as an unsatisfying end.
Could be labeled pessimism or rationalization.
You hope for more, you always do.
Maybe it's the stop of the turning clock, the one that resounds heavily each night.
The disappointment will dissipate eventually, but it feels like centuries until it does.
The memories that keep flashing are like salt; the familiar sting of the shame from fresh wounds.
The wind you always carry with you, it drifts you off to foolish daydreams. It helps hold back the inevitable shame and guilt.
Soon you understand, this is all erratic. It must lead to an origin, but it is one you cannot find.
You realize the attachment to this coldness is horrifying. You never plan to be cold, it just catches fire.
Time takes its toll. It takes away the chance of ever amending; of retribution.
The obstacles are clearly organized to hinder much needed evolution.
brian car Mar 2016
The systematic destruction of Tradition--in the name of Efficiency
Leads to the rationalization of everything.
For Modernity demands a piece of our humanity
Our unsolvable self.
The Mysterious is relentlessly chased, trapped, and murdered by Reason at every corner.
As she dies, The World becomes a predictable, hollowed out version of Herself
A disenchanted goddess, a solved sunset.
mark john junor Oct 2013
nonsense plays in the background of my thoughts
lackluster little patterns of thought
that gather round and batter at the door
of my perception hoping to make enough noise
to get free out into the real world
but the denied little monsters are thrown back
into the darkness

i reason with myself
try bribery
try threats
but i ignore the dire consequence
and proceed to groom the
versions of what will be and letting them
run through my head
repeating the worst versions
and the better ones become mocking
like making love to sandpaper

dance for me
do the logic shuffle
find a fitting little balance if that suits ya
find a symphony to play the grand design of your scheme
but its a heavy line you gotta tow this rowboat with
on wheels would work better
but whatever is sleezy...i mean easy
we can paint waves on the sidewalk
you can row that puppy all the way home

whatever reasonable rationalization
gets ya thru the night
don't matter much if its occupy something/anything
if you think mocking me is gonna fix you
its gonna be a long long night sweetcheeks
cause i dont depend on what anyone thinks

so i jump in that rowboat with ya
and we can row that puppy home
toast the town with champagne
celebrate our diversity
MaryJane Rebel Sep 2012
I dream of you
A stranger with your face, like a mask, in front of mine
He has your strong jaw line, your brown eyes
Walks with your confident stride
But the emptiness I feel as he kisses me goodbye brings me to reality every time
A jolt like a ligatured body cascading to a halt…
A brutal surprise

Days do not pass, uneclipsed by need for rationalization
Teeter tottering from acceptance to dissent
Memories like worn film,
Played and replayed
Longing for the ending to change

I was crying in answer to subjugation  
Unable to watch your mouth move as it formed syllables
Strung eloquently into carefully chosen words
Ultimately to assert our relationships Goodbye
I held my breath as you lingered at my doorframe
Felt the warmth of tear stained salty lips once last occupying yours
I watched you drive away
I waited knowing your headlights would soon fade

I dream of you
Infinite minutes of fantasy or fallacy
Made to blur factuality  
Reverie in which no matter of the stories distortion
You stayed
Adrianna Nov 2016
I'm not paranoid
I'm just a skeptic
Katrick Pane Dec 2014
His mind long gone
On weeks vacation
Pupils left to contemplate
With issues watered to sides
An absence of intervention
has led to cut bags
The pipes have froze
With this knowledge
A grey area has led
Rationalization of blue lines to lead
For truth does not come from that of a mouth
But those of a pair of hands
Brent Kincaid Aug 2015
Just like everybody else
I was learning for myself
Just what would make me sick
And how the whole world ticks.
Then I quickly ran into collusion
Left me in a state of confusion.
I learned about rationalization
And self-righteous indignation
From purveyors of hypocrisy
Passed off as great philosophy
That labeled some as dross,
Not fit to be the lowest boss.
I watched people get locked out
And ignored when they shouted
The bosses talking about degrees
Driving workers to their knees
Because they couldn’t afford
College room and board
For the four years of beer bashes
And drunken month-long crashes
In Mexican towns full of them
That could go there on a whim
While the children of the working class
Worked hard so their kids could pass
And have a chance to get ahead
Instead of a shoveling until dead.

I was learning this first-hand
That not all of life was grand
If you could not afford to buy.
And banks just passed you by
When you needed a car
Because work was so far
From where you had to stay
In the neighborhoods far away
From the nice neat places
And squeaky clean faces
Of those who inherited wealth
Or were sent to schools
That sent out the fools
That knew how to look nice.
And nobody thought twice
When they weren’t quite as bright
As the people that had to fight
For an opening, then trained
So the rich kid could maintain
In a job he didn’t qualify for
But he had the SAT score
To prove he was intelligent
And had the proper quotient
Whether he could deliver or not.
The rest was all just rot.
And nobody paid attention
Nor would they mention
The kid was a well-trained fool
And what he learned in class
Was how to look good and pass
For a person smarter than
The average working man.
That’s what I learned first-hand
And what I came to understand.
Mark Lecuona Feb 2012
People don’t want to die
But they want to go to heaven
They don’t want to pay the price
They just ask to be forgiven
They lay in the sun
Yet judge by the color of skin
They want to change
But cling to where they’ve been
To receive their daily tender
Without earning it first
Is the easiest path
And from you they will coerce
Believing in their own greatness
Yet trying so very hard
To conceal their true selves
They always remain on guard
The price of the ego
Is the cost of your soul
The gift of your heart
Is the blessing someone stole
To withstand the pain of loss
We walk a lonely path
Embracing a material curse
And rejecting John’s bath
Instead we are awash in sin
Of the flesh and mind
A hedonistic rationalization
What did we expect to find?
As desire causes suffering
Introspection causes pain
But the journey to the mountaintop
Will turn fire into rain
As you wash away your doubts
And your need for approval
The sun will open your heart
And begin fear's removal
And on the day you awaken
To a new world brotherhood
You will become a blessing to others
And there will be a flower where you once stood



Copyright 2011. All Rights Reserve. Mark Lecuona
Leafar Mamede Mar 2012
To remember the thrill is to feel,
to sense that is preserved in the intellect.
To create the emotion is to feel,
to know that you can counterfit, even if it is sincere.
To live the sentiment is to feel,
to relish being alive.

The ceaseless search
for something unknown;
The reaction of rationalization
before the event;
The result of intellectualization
is mental mill.

Yearning for old times
'causes boredom.
Anguish of past times
'causes dismay.
Boredom and dismay
'causes unrest.

These are the words of a restless mind.
Off and on, reports of dreams to find.
No matter how messed up it is,
Blessed be the unrest.
mark john junor Dec 2014
she became a new york city
street corner fixture
acted like its the only place to be
acted like its the place for the persecutor to begin
after all all men are guilty
none are forgiven
so she painted false hearted judges
to prop up her proposition
to subvert the natural truth

she lied when it came down to the last hours
but i was unsurprised i had seen her coming
the deception was the rationalization
means to the end
just because you can lie means you should
integrity means so much more when
there is no shame in the game
so once again i ask
just because you can lie means you should
isn't it about change
or was that just part of the lie

i walked away
on a north bronx street corner never to return
no regrets
she had sold herself at every chance
for two bits silver
for a lies chance to shine
but i will not be there to suffer the consequences
just because you can lie means you should
isn't it about change
or was that just part of the lie
how fragile this thing called truth...how easily it sway to suit
Adam Mott Jul 2016
Coming home for summer
At season's end
Returning, again and again
Reality falls into place
Struggles of a long distance race
Rationalization of my place,
Finite as the lines on my father's face
A time of appreciation and humbling grace

Each passing day marked and counted
Like days upon a jail cell wall
Often a dream, the end of summer at beck and call
Twice now it was sought with tears and pain
Only to realize the sanctity of time and not haste

Working towards the world's collection of dreams
Reality falls into place
Like the tears once upon my face
Gone now, as I soon shall be from this familiar space
The Summers of my University years
Once filled with fear, stress, tears
Now calm and serene, simple and clean
Tags are, as ironic as it may be, unrelated
Unless you decide they aren't
Positive Aug 2015
Glass frame
Continued pain
Sudden realization
Define rationalization
Could it be
That what I see
Is nothing more
Than it was before
But now I notice
Life in focus
That all things change
Nothing will be the same
Alexis Lewis Dec 2015
have you ever sat and thought about how everything is nothing
and how nothing is really everything
how nothing matters, really, and nothing you say to someone is really
exactly perfect for that moment
because later on, you're just going to go back and think
"saying this would have been better"
and relationships, love, hate
that's not anything either
because it all ends and who is there to read the story afterward
and if there was a story, who would stand to read the heartbreak?
thinking about thinking
thinking about thoughts
about how everything is actually tiny little cells
sparking their tiny existence as if to get something else's attention
but they are too tiny to notice
we can't see the trees for the forest
and really, i wish all that i was was just the tiny invisible cells
so i could drift through matter without being noticed
just drifting along sidewalks and across streets
drifting through existence without a glance from a human
because then i would not feel so acutely conscious
of the stares of others at my broken, huddled, hurting heart
and the hearts around campus that i love
hurting too, because my love could not stand theirs.
it hurts so much, parted without knowing why
and simultaneously knowing it was for the best.
why must anyone have to leave someone they love
just because rationally they know that's not the one for them?
rationalization trumps emotion if you want to continue living
because we all know emotions ****
so we give in to what we know we have to do:
break ourselves, break the other person
and live broken and apart and bleeding all over the concrete ground
wishing for invisibility and refuge.
the final day approaches
more quickly than any
chicken on a june bug
this is the first time
my great grandfathers aphorism
has resonated so deeply

i implore them
each and every one
ask me
ask me anything
i can help you embrace
what your unencumbered peers
treasure
what guides them to a bright future
and its absence in you
to something far more dismal

despite my rationalization
my soft realization
i hold out hope

for you, proprietor of un criadero de caballos
stable full and ahead by a nose
for you, avian veteran
star college running back in the end zone
for you, pop artist
changing galleries with colorful violence

its soon out of my hands
grains sliding through my grip
onto your desk
with which to build
a magnificent castle
or to blow back upon the earth

ask me anything
if i dont know we can search
for truth
and then Truth

im told times up
dont drag me out yet
let me finish this lin..........
*teaching to be taught
mark john junor Jul 2013
(point)
versions of the day inform themselves to you
in hopeful parade of acceptance
each one such a grande smile
and each one a thin illusion
but age has taught you that no version
is accountable for its reality

pause on the edge of the frame
playing with some nothing in your hand to occupy the fingers
run your foot back and forth along the trailing boundary of the street
and do your actress highest performance to appear
to be concentrating on some conversation
you have internally of some earth shattering importance
perhaps he will approach
perhaps he will ask for a cigarette light
no that would be bad, you don't smoke
and would have to refuse him
you don't want to refuse him anything


folding and unfolding the worn page
of the thought that your life is stuck
know that your in the mood for
that special somthing and it seems like nothing
short of perfection to that vision will do at all
but life is a dance that keeps
changing rhythm and partners
plan all you wish if that keeps you busy when bored
but when it comes to it put such notion aside
step into the light
step up to the moment with your best face
and hope kiddo
best ya can do, hope kiddo

(counterpoint)
breath your way slowly into the moment
keep silent the doubts
keep still your fleet foot wish to flee
hold fast to the the thought she gave you
before she disappeared up the road
you wont be alone ever
long as your here in my heart

madness
i feel like i will drowned
in the rough noise of the world at the verge
of my doorway
fills me...washes away all thought
with dignity and reason
but you can loose yourself and responsibility
loose the reproach that you could have done better
that you should have tried this or that

there is no comfort in the words she left me with
it was just another rationalization

i hesitate
endlessly hesitate
wishing there was an easier way
wishing she was still here to help me see the way
all the angers slip away
in the alone night
and your left with the memory's of the person
and all the things she was to you

(dusk)
alone
alone
alone
the part from her point of view (in italics) is from something the dreadlock girl described.(the dreadlock girl is of course Jezebel Rose A.)  is not a cooperative poem.
Coyote Oct 2010
Zen
Leaving behind the shadow
of rationalization’s unfulfilled
promise to enter the world
of eternities chaotic
illumination
Nothing eternal is stagnant
and nothing vibrant truly
dies.
Flies gather on the corpses
of unrealized potential
while inertia winds ever
faster into oblivion’s
indifferent lair.

Live
Exist
Be

There is nothing else...

— The End —