"rationally" poems
A confident man feels not a need to speak
on all things with which he does not agree
Though in the proper time and place
he is not afraid to assert his way
And though his words at times cause spurn,
he will admit when they are out of turn
Fearing not the inevitable mistake,
but rather owning it too late
Caring and feeling without hesitation
and not for reciprocal adulation
Emotions are expressed appropriately;
either subtlety or rationally
As honest with others as with himself;
recognizing what he does and doesn’t do well
Claiming to know what he does know
and asks when he don’t
Pursuing tasks for their benefit and or joy
rather than status or fleeting ploys
Those latter things are often great fun,
but worry of them yields none
While in his mind there is good thinking,
he is more occupied with good acting
In order to have concerns of the ideological,
requires labors that are practical
On his confidence, he does not ponder,
as neither he or anyone wonders
of whether he truly possesses it.
We know it.
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 6:25 PM UTC
If only temporarily,
the Milky Way
took up residence
along my spine today.
I can still feel, and even
see it, softly glowing there
although I know, rationally,
it chooses to live elsewhere.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 3:58 PM UTC
You’ll never see me again. Who’s going to cry for you? This pen writes in black, but its green. I want to dance under a silly disco ball. I want to feel the earth on my skin. dig in the dirt, bury myself in the sand, climb a tree and swim in the sea. looking over me. I want to paint my nails with every color in those kindergarten classrooms, every pattern we learn in geometry. I want to no longer feel the need to look this color (arrow pointing to the color of the paper: red). I want to do yoga when I can and go for runs and eat healthy. I want to starve and feel hungry and weightless 24/7. I want to make a decision. I want to make music. I want to dance with a stranger, hands held, eyes close and sweaty bodys. I want to get their number and fall in love. I want a movie moment. I want to kiss everyone. I want to be wanted. I want to apologize to everyone. I want to stare into someones eyes; not longingly, but lovingly. I want them to look back just the same. I want them to make me things and work for me and only me. “make sure to write a poem about my prettiness”. I want to have a higher self esteem than her. I want people to come when not directly called. I want to look **** I want to hold someone **** I want *** to be my celebration for (arrow for where my self esteem is better). I want to think rationally always. I want to stop disappointing people I care about. I want to know the difference between a good impulse and a bad impulse. I want people to be okay with what I want. I want to sleep. I want to kiss. I want to give up smoking. I want to give up on my quest for the perfection every one speaks of. I want to foster dogs.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 8:46 PM UTC
All alone, again
Feeling meloncholy and captive
Within a cloud of intentional isolation
As each thought comes and goes without an answer.
Memories flicker in the crime scene of my mind.
My perception is clouded by questioning every suspicion.
As I try to stay unemotional and rationally make doubt my enemy.
This day has now ended and I have not made a decision.
Wondering when indecision and fear have intersected in my life.
Have I become so insouciant that I am blinded?
As I grow old and in my final hours, could this be my biggest mistake?
I am unwillling to dwell in the present and find happiness again?
Hours spent suffocating myself with regret
Tried to harden my heart to the point of no return
But, I perservere and try to rise above the abundancy of pain.
Licking the salt from my tears as they drip to my lips.
I now lay down, so silent that even my breath is quiet
Asking if the pain is worth the possibility of a true love that will last.
Will he crush my heart with unintentional love for another?
A chance, I guess, I am willing to take. Or too soon?
I can only pray that the right answer will come during my slumber
And it will be within the will of my creator
Praying that my dreams will be filled with the answers that I seek
And tomorrow will be full of love, trust and loyalty.
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 1:12 AM UTC
setting myself down on an anvil pillow. sleep is an anvil pillow. anvil and stone are a suicide dressed in 8 hours of mini-Godheads.. you become a repeat offender in the ever expanding realm of emerging fractal patterns sewn upon the quilt you lay across your sleepy bones like rushing water in an underground cave miles below the Yucatan Peninsula..
by electronic firelight they lay on my leather couch with the scraps of bedding I could afford to share, as if for some reason I can't escape the money analogy and see this, too, as a transaction.. buying.. a transaction.. as transfat is to nutrition.. money is tao.. my hate for money is tao.. I'm a love-and-lost buddhist like every other dreamer before me.
I'm tired of giving myself a *******
All I ever give myself is a *******
I refuse to bend over and at least try to give me a ******* or go to the next level in love and **** myself.
I keep telling me to do it. Keep grabbing my own *** during passionate tongue-twisters but I keep on insisting that I just CAN'T go any further.. rationally I may be right, but irrationally I still get shrieks of jealousy because I see that ******* sneaking out to kiss girls all the ******* time* as if I didn't exist. As if I wasn't always watching.
I stalk myself. It's a terrifying state of affairs. No matter where I go, there I am.
Watching.
One night, I invited me over, and as usual, I gave myself a ******* yet refused to go any further.
This was the straw that cracked the camels back.. and come 4 AM I kissed myself softly on the forehead as I slept and slipped into the night, hailing the first taxi to sail past me on the concrete river.
I awoke slowly the next morning and.. still dazed.. noticed I was nowhere to be found.
A great grief flooded my solar plexus and moved into my hopeless bones.
I had not even left a note. What a ******* I am!
I had not even left a note.
The rest of the day was spent in sordid grievance. I shivered, lonely, under my ever expanding realm of emerging fractal patterns sewn upon the quilt I lay across my sleepy bones like rushing water in an underground cave miles below the Yucatan Peninsula..
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
I am afraid of speaking.
I am afraid of the texture of my voice, and the effect it will have on you.
I don't want to be pressed into the caricature of an angry woman; voice raised in what they call a hysterical display of emotion.
Calm down. Be rational.
Stop being
So
Dramatic.
Well let me tell you something:
I am an angry woman.
Because all I can see is my best friend’s blonde head, coming within an inch of becoming the crushed drywall beneath his fist.
All I can see is the false piety painted on his pastor’s face, asking, “well… did he hit you?”
I see her eyes closed in the darkness, fingers gripped in the sheets he tore off of her body to wake her. She has to hold on to something.
He says, “Show me you're enjoying it.”
Calm down. Be rational.
Like he wasn't gaining access INTO her BODY by FORCE. Like, of course it's her job to lay down and take it. Like it. Lick his lips for the taste of honey, because honey, he told you to.
but it's poison. It enters her bloodstream, weakening her will to resist it.
She looks at her phone, at a text she did not compose herself, or send,
“Hey hot stuff. When you see this, let's have ***
“If I pretend I didn't write this I'm just playing hard to get.”
Do you get it?
Yeah. I am an angry woman.
Stay calm, dear sister. Be rational.
Rationalize the gaslighting, because the big picture doesn't look beautiful when you hang it above the sofa; and her home was staged to look like a family so that when you look in the window, you don't see that she was a hostage.
You don't see that her son was asleep in the bed when he grabbed her face between his hands and crushed it,
And called it “gently redirecting her gaze.”
From the window, you can't see his body blocking the exit.
You can't see her baby, with his little fingers curled around her ******* begging for comfort.
I will not calm down. And in case you are so damaged by devotion to comfort that you can't see it, it is right to be angry.
It is righteous.
I am angry, and more rational than I have ever been in my entire life- rationally, righteously begging for justice to flow down like rivers.
I am an angry woman.
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 4:07 PM UTC
Perfection makes this day
Polite expressionless faces
Rich and luxurious, they pray
Rationally irritating, that passes.
Perfection is I, quoth he
Pretty pointless faces, I say
Reasonably intelligent friends, said he
Rather boring folk do they convey.
Perfection is ******** I utter
Probable mix-up, they record
Realize the beauty! I order
Render it proper on my own accord.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
Where did all the heroes go?
Mothers, Sisters losing faith in
Lovers undercover of ego--
*in a club bought some bud
drop the cash five more stacks
see the girl
talk the pearl
show the bling
reign her in
talk the trash
false and rash--
and if a Man dare arise--
when he takes the lead will they
crucify or heed,
his rationally wise
and
soft spoken creed?*
What do heroes really know?
Oct 23, 2010
Oct 23, 2010 at 5:01 PM UTC
You stopped responding at my second
jesus **** joke, but I didn't care,
and I was the one at work. Aces.
Even vacation is stressful for you,
although I'll admit my humor isn't great,
but amongst friends I'm hysterical.
I only have about a handful,
and they're all ******* weird as me
except for a couple or several.
I'm not a big fan of most people I root for,
I'm terribly sarcastic, and if I love you
I might want you to fall on your ******* nose.
It's a fifty-fifty split,
or seventy to thirty.
I'm a ravenous cannibal when
I put words down to something tangible.
I'm also late to work or early,
and all my friends get my friends jobs
right before we leave or get fired
or get too poor to stay where we are.
It's a horribly satisfying way to live
but a ******** way to want to die.
I'm a coward and a liar with great hygiene,
I liken myself akin to the noble cockroach,
because I'm a nuclear survivor!
And the post-apocalypse started
right after Hiroshima, and now they
watch or **** everyone,
and people police people.
If you can't afford the rent stay with strangers
or starve to death on the streets while
middle class lunatics watch you evaporate
"rationally" as bystanders in a new world war.
It's not even a subtle genocide.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
Impulsivity, I am hopelessly in love with you.
Buy the shoes.
Ditch school.
Kiss her.
Drive 30 minutes
for french fries
Kiss him.
Buy 18 pet snails.
Eat the octopus tacos.
In acting class they told me
to follow my impulses.
At home they told me not to.
A blessing and a curse
might land me in a hearse
But I’m living
Today I wrote a letter to someone I love and I’m going to send it
Tomorrow I might stay home and cook pasta,
or maybe I’ll drive to Portland.
Pack only a few T-shirts and my terrifying
overabundance of freedom
Are you proud?
I’ve been told not to be so impulsive.
To think more rationally.
To weigh the consequences.
“You’ll regret it!”
But the greatest regret I’ve ever felt
is having not done anything
about something that is my everything.
I know I’m not an idiot.
I’ve told myself this for years and I’ll stick to it,
but there will never be a day
when my mind defeats my gut.
Sometimes it means I’m
irresponsible.
Unpredictable.
Messy.
Slutty.
“Who are you anyway?”
I have a secret
-I don’t know who I am
And if I’m lucky, I never will.
You, my impulsivity, are to blame and to thank for that.
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 1:36 PM UTC
He didn't earn the name Talk Radio
by digging on NPR,
he earned the name
for being a stupid ******
that never shuts up.
Talk wasted his physically
fit years chasing shallow ***
and creating a seduction ritual,
requiring a lighthouse at
Lake Hefner.
Now he's grappling with his
late 20s, trying to retain what's
left of his hair,
trying to **** in his massive belly,
that resembles a pregnant lady,
more than a typical beer enthusiast.
Speaking of pregnant women,
he confessed a ****** obsession
centered around their tummy.
He asked if I felt the same,
I said,
"I guess they're cute,
but it is in no way a ******
thing. I don't want to
go to town on their
baby lump."
Spending my weekend with Talk,
made me thankful for my ability
to think rationally.
Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 4:58 PM UTC
Look!
Look long
and see
Whatever you want!
---
We paint illusions so rationally
One would think us
Truly mad
----
---
***
We don't know what it is
FASCINATING!
SIMPLY FASCINATING!
___
She said
" I love you
I can't live without you!"
....
WHAT THE ****
...
She said
" it's true
If you reject me I'll cut myself with a razor blade"
GET AWAY!
AWAY!!
..
HELP!
A WITCH!
POISON!
----
She said
"That's it
YOU shall get a bad poem !
__
---
---
Listen !
Listen deep
..
And you shall hear
What you want!
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 12:55 AM UTC
you are
fire
drawing me
almost mechanically but almost
because i am bound by my own volition
almost rationally
and as i inch closer
your energy
radiates:
radiance i cry
oh my
your warmth
holds me
permeating my skin
seeping into these
iron arteries and
cold, cold guts
(you unravel my knots)
my eyes reflect you
because you are all i see:
all i want to see
i'm a submissive prisoner to your beauty
captivated willingly
i am yours
and even if never
ever
will you be mine
**** it
**** it all
yours i will still be
and no
this is pure delight to me,
i won't consider it a tragedy
your embers are worthy of stars
your hot fumes to me an aroma
and if the price of becoming close
and closer
to you is the
disintegration of my flesh
so be it
give me death
because
i only feel alive
when i am with you
so burn me please
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 1:09 PM UTC
both magnesium and iron
are plentiful in the crust
of the earth.
magnesium in abundance in the sea.
and then it hits me
rationally speaking,
plants were birthed from the ocean
and we from the land,
literally.
the Earth gives birth
to her infinite babes.
life on other planets?
oh most definitely.
planets give birth
as all Mother's do.
Her babes peal away from her
being. Plants from the ocean
with magnesium in their blood.
and we from the dust.
walk the Earth. Plants prepared
the air
so we could walk the Earth.
The Earth and its babes
look the way they do
because of her
presence in the system
she revolves in.
She, we call Mars, her babes
must represent her place in space.
life on other planets will
always look like their
Mother too.
this one is heavy for me too…
and yet it has to be true.
our Mother is no different
than her sisters. Her Mother
a creator. The Heat Source
for her children. Her *****
circling around her as
my children do me.
rotating endlessly.
until its time has passed too.
all things have a time
and then they explode!
I had to fold before I could break out
but I'm broken now…
no turning back.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
Cry me a river.
Douse me in the irony of conflict.
I'm just a rock on the edge of it,
sitting patiently for your sigh.
We both sit idly by, tensed for the precious birth of words in silence. Trust the ever-living body of guilt that is boiling over the edges of my self-concept.
Don't speak to me as if I'm some dignitary for justice, but simply as if I might irk out some monochrome of truth whilst I sip my coffee in exasperation.
Irritation is also intoxication might I remind,
so I'm fumbling and tripping over my own flawed reasoning.
I got to this point somehow,
so let us examine it rationally and see why I drowned in the liquor of my own rhetoric.
Or, we can sit tentatively vacant waiting for some resolution to spring from the ether that is the growing chasm between us.
Oct 23, 2010
Oct 23, 2010 at 7:36 PM UTC
It's been a year since my suicide attempt. Right now, I'd be in the ER waiting to find out which inpatient clinic I'd go to. One year. Since, I have escaped from toxic people and shifted from an old self. One year. What do I have to show for it? Emotional outbursts? A nicotine addiction? Abandoning my creativity? A battle with a psychological addiction to psychedelic drugs? What does progress look like? What does it mean to reconstruct yourself? A building torn - that's what I am. A prairie, a forest, which has experienced a wild fire. Beyond recognition, I deface myself - as if to erase myself and destroy the things I like. What does progress look like? Am I getting there? In my view, progress is not always seen by you directly. It is not our job to determine if we make progress, but, by the value of people and situations in our lives, we will have it be seen. To do things for ourselves is wonderful. But, what does progress look like? It looks like making giant leaps forward - and then three steps back. It looks like dipping our toe in the water, and then wanting to dry off. It looks like it's perfect, but actually not. It looks like a broken toy fixed with expired super glue. Who are we to determine progression? It's an obsession of the mind for us to think that progress means we must always be fine - that we must be perfect. If I have a million irrational thoughts in a day, does that make my one totally rational thought insignificant? I think not. If I spend one day totally upbeat, productive, and happy - are my sad feelings any less valid? No. So, progress looks like this: admitting to yourself that sometimes we won't have things together completely. We acknowledge it, think rationally, and move to the next focus. Progress is not total immunization of our quirks, but it is less demonization for how we work. Our brains - they want to help us survive. The brain gets confused among irrational thoughts and can jump and put us in an emotional turmoil jeopardy. But, be kind to yourself. Be kind to the "miswires" in your brain - because it cares for you and wants you to survive. Strive. What does progress look like? I'm not sure if I can see mine - I'm not sure what it totally looks like. But, maybe, look in a mirror. See yourself - the reflection of desire. Aspire to be who you are, judgement free. In a sort of clarity, you can see. Ask yourself:
"What does progress look like?"
It looks a bit like you.
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 9:02 PM UTC
because of you,
i do stupid, irrational,
immature things,
but it makes me think
of you while i'm
misbehaving, you
cause that feeling
of adrenaline in me,
so i keep thinking
of you, it makes me
high and confused,
but i am happy in that
state of confusion and desire,
while you keep me
too high to even think
rationally.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 1:58 PM UTC
<•>
Good Acts are like Good Poems
*"Good acts are like good poems.
One may easily get their drift,
but they are not rationally understood"*
Albert Einstein
Ach, mein guter Kumpel!
Ach, mein bester Freund!
how could I not have known,
the syncopation, the synchronization,
between what I write, and the impetuous impetus within,
that caustic sense that burns words
from my chest
directly onto the paper
are more than correlated,
even causation-ally related
after all, you, naturally, the master of relativity
but you know me Al,^
I, the quibbler from NYC*
have to have a slightly different take,
in my gemeinschaft city of eight million strangers,
we always must have eight million and one
opinions
true dat, when I am on the fifth or sixth stanza,
realizing got no clue what the poem is rambling about,
but it sounds so good, lovely, pretty words,
why ***** it up with scientific rationality?
but good acts are easy, uber understood,
rationally we live to survive and
do what we to
make the species survive, common sense triumphs,
disguised as sacrifice, forgetting to roll the dice,
doing what comes like a good poem,
and what needs doing or writing
is so intuitively obvious,
just love poetry,
a global necessity
so check out Houston in two thousand and seventeen
here's hoping life in heaven ain't boring
know that you've seen, peeked, peaked,
at the theory of everything,
resolving the contradictions
between general laws of physics
and those pesky tiny quantum mechanicals,
even solving that 'other' equation
GA = GP
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 6:53 PM UTC
The cold is bitter,
And grey is dark
Cold and grey,
That's all I am
Cold and grey,
Certainly ******
I search for passion
In my mind
But despair is what I find
And a heart I hope will bind.
All love vanished
And all I ever cherished
And the happiness is perished
Everything, gone.
The factors of my smile
Gone.
The sun at dawn
That, too, is gone.
Only darkness
No happiness
Only sadness.
The cold is bitter,
And grey is dark
Cold and grey,
That's all I am
Cold and grey,
Certainly ******
Holding my breath without you
Fighting for air
Fighting for comfort
Longing for care
Like longing for air
Breathing I will have to do eventually
Like getting over this I will have to do rationally
That feeling of panic
Of something you know you need to do
That feeling of guilt
Like you did something wrong
Fixing things is all that you long
The cold is bitter,
And grey is dark
Cold and grey,
That's all I am
Cold and grey,
Certainly ******
I would make another promise again
But what are those anymore?
I've broken all mine
Like you've broken all yours
All I am is broken glass
Wondering if the pain will ever pass
Cutting others with my own injury
I do it in fury
Like a smokey hot fire
Like a cut wire
Like broken glass.
The cold is bitter,
And grey is dark
Cold and grey,
That's all I am
Cold and grey,
Certainly ******
The cold wants warmth
And grey wants light
Cold and grey,
That's all I'll ever be
Cold and grey,
That's all I see.
And that's me.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 10:48 AM UTC
We consume this negativity
we inhale it like air
it inflates our lungs
our veins our heart
and it smothers it’s beating
controls it’s feeling
makes a hole in the middle of our soul
and infiltrates our mind
we stop thinking rationally
and start hating passionately
desperate to rip apart
anyone that seems happy
in our path
it makes you spread dismay
and ***** out gossip that decays
rotates, and changes an opinion
of a person
of a group
and it spreads like a disease
like a virus from mouth to mouth
ear to ear
hand to hand
we don’t understand how it began
it just evolves
until someone’s resolve
crumbles
because we tore them down
chewed them up and spit them out
that’s what negativity does
it drowns out all the happiness
that was in ones heart
it blackens the soul
until its done its part
then it leaves…
washes away with the eve
and your left standing with a guilty plea
of…
‘I’m so sorry’
Dec 5, 2011
Dec 5, 2011 at 5:17 PM UTC
There are entire worlds
behind your eyes.
Stories hiding deep inside.
Places where hopes and dreams thrive.
Places where
...maybe...
my heart can reside.
Worlds where the irational things
exist rationally.
I swear,
Behind your eyes
there are worlds
that I
could travel far and wide,
Where I
could see the beginning
and the end of time.
And I know
Your eyes hold secrets.
But so do mine.
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 5:08 PM UTC
You want me describe my feeling
About the worst thing when leaving
My lovely second home which was my lovely place
My teachers who like my mom and my beautiful friends
The person who took a piece of my heart
Then you want me to talk how sad I felt
When the days forced you to leave all the best
You think they sent you to place like a forest
I feel as if the road is full of thorns
Don't know any one like who see monsters
All the time feel scaring I can't think rationally
I was always crying and didn't think wisely
Then called me an owl at the top of the tree
Sent to me paper on roll was written on it, should be free
You must choose the way that save you from the forest safely
Through a smart idea and move away from thinking negatively
I liked what she told me I resolved to think about aim
I was feeling so happy like who will play a game
There was a lot of difficulties to achieve that desire and aim
Although there wasn't supporters my wish and my dream came
Toka Kentar © all rights received
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 2:44 AM UTC
Let’s forget Logic
Why should I think logically?
Why should I think rationally?
All I do is think
Why ?
Why am I thinking so much?
Why do things have to make sense?
Maybe some things don’t need reason.
Time is wasted trying to find meaning.
People don’t stop to see the beauty.
We don’t let ourselves feel
For the fear of being crazy
Future bad possibilities
Lets forget logic
For a day
Nothing needs to be clear
Nothing needs to be written in stone
And live without thinking
What if?
Well what if you dive in
And feel something never felt
Forget logic
Logic finds you
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
"I'm enough of an artist
to draw freely on my imagination.
Imagination is more important than knowledge.
Knowledge is limited; imagination encircles the world."
"I live in that solitude which is painful in youth,
but delicious in the years of maturity."
"A happy man is too satisfied with the present
to dwell too much on the future."
"Good acts are like good poems.
One may easily get their drift,
but they are not rationally understood."
"The true value of a human being is determined
primarily by how he has attained liberation from the self."
"Why is it that nobody understands me,
yet everybody likes me."
and lastly,
"With fame I become more and more stupid,
which of course is a very common phenomenon."
Albert Einstein
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 5:08 PM UTC
If I kept walking
Went along with the crowd
Would you miss me?
Cause sometimes I feel like doing so
Giving in to the currant
Just keeping walking
I'd be one among the many
Toss upon this moving sea
Alone - a long way away
Funny that isn't?
Alone among the many.
Where we are all alone together
The irrationality of rational thinking
Is that we must rationally account
The irrational aspect that comes with us.
Cause when does anything we do make sense?
The innocence of a guilty conscience
Is as true as the reverse
I don't want to be lonely
Don't want to be me at all really
Even if I did like solitude - it does not like me back.
But to be alone is different
Alone among the many
Makes perfect sense doesn't it?
Maybe you'll spy me one day
Just for an instant - watching you do
Before a wash of faces carries me away
Would you try to follow or
Would you think fondly of me or
Would you just convince yourself you saw nothing?
If the lather is the case
Then I leave my name with you
Where ever I might go - I will no longer need it.
I will be the Witness.
A terrible wallflower
Graceless and without power.
So maybe - I'll keep on walking
Unsure if I'll ever be anchor again
For what I know of love - there is nothing to gain.
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 5:21 AM UTC