"reasoned" poems
Before I first met u, I was really fine, For the world was still bearable, though not often really nice.
Encompassing new experiences
Though seldom they were mine, the fate so ingenious, in it's mysterious design.
Before I first met u, I was still just fine.
In truth, it was lonely, though I didn't mind.
had taught myself to be reserved,
And not think of anything as mine. Why bother, I reasoned, when it's just a matter of time.
Before I first met u, I was almost fine.
Searching for little happiness, Knowing it ain't easy to find.
Wondering where things went wrong, Or when it would ever be right?
It's destiny, I told, and slept long & scary nights.
But then I first met you, I wasn't nearly fine.
My heart it skipped a beat, though not because of any reason right.
Not knowing what was in store for me, I wondered way ahead,
Not bound by any reasons, coz where would our worlds collide?
And yet when I first met you, there you sat in front.
Infecting all those around you, with your cheerful mirth.
Your smile so heavenly beautiful, my words would not suffice.
A form so serenely peaceful, that the days not quite as bright.
But when can I meet you again, my mind would often dream.
To touch ur beautiful lips, life's not long it seems.
And yet there are boundaries mortal, those don't easily break,
But moments when we hold together, by far the best till date.
when I meet you again, my heart would always seek.
To hold u in my arms so, the world not in our midst.
Our destiny though undecided by what we may think,
Yet if it's at all possible, you are all i ever need.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 4:36 PM UTC
Oh Language, where hast thou hid thyself?
Thy once-bright spires decline to dust.
The calm, well-reasoned flow of wisdom
a bygone memory. I’ll not trust
these tween-to-twenty-something’s prattle;
endless babble of self-absorption
centered in pleasure-maximizing:
narcissistic thought-abortion.
Dude—they’re SO not app’ed for language
used by dad ten years ago.
I’m totally DONE with their, like, verbiage
They’re all: Smartphone Teenage Show.
It’s just, like, TALKING—without words
in language ghettos; texting proud . . .
Their lack of precision offends my brain—
They ought to be ashamed (out loud).
Vygotsky’s vaunted Z.P.D,
and Bakhtin’s heteroglossic crack
along with Roland Barthe’s pet parrot
Are SO like totally talking smack.
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 3:00 PM UTC
I host my ghost
inside this life
all thought is fraught
with endless strife
my fate withstands
all tempted ways
all reasoned plans
all judgment days
there's nothing left
but shame and fear
to blame the ghost
I host in here
©2016 Lyn
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 1:11 PM UTC
She walked barefoot in the desert and wore desert boots to bed.
My baby was topsy turvy dipsy swervy crossed up curvy clean out of her head.
A cast iron face that kept the truth bound and shackled.
Deep inside her head.
Self deception was her stock in trade and every choice she ever made was reasoned Wearing blinders.The snake that ate her tail
Her logic was.
Circular in nature no ending or beginning. Which guaranteed her winning
Regardless.
But only in her twisty wheelhouse.
Crazy as aa ********* rat.
Twisting facts into tasty pastry.
Seving them up on shiny ware.
Neither here nor either there
Calculating slipknot tension
Telling tales too tall to mention
The daughter of the pretzel maker
Part deluded.Rabid faker.
Pretzel logic
Pretzel minded.
Twisted now and twisted later.
Down the road I go.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 12:52 AM UTC
We're just a bunch of 90s babies, sniffing coke like it's the 1980s
In the night we're popping Molly like we're the ones that made it
Calling it a new summer of love, like this time was always fated
Making fun of everyone that isn't turnt, because we never waited
Leave the club with ratchet girls when the sun goes down much later
I'm just having my fun, why do you have to be a player hater?
The greatest generation has gone, do we have what it takes to be greater?
When the weekend romance ends, return to love thy mater and thy pater
xoxo, imagine being strung out on dank bud with the grand creator
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
I cannot understand
Am I dreaming beneath the living?
Tell me if it’s just a part of my forty winks
Coz I’m rusted by chance when fully awake.
Why are dreams so large and
You forget it in a momentary climb?
The departed stories are so dear
That they never come to pass in life
The impossible happenings with strings
And things I’ll never find are so ideal.
The scars are reasoned and seasoned
But it was perfect when I was asleep.
I was dead to the world, totally ignored
Leaving one earth for a different one
Was so brilliant when I was buried.
But I realize I was not just dreaming
I was stitching them into reality,
Let me catch all my dreams
That they might never happen again!
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 11:53 AM UTC
He taught them well
~for all the teachers here~
He cared enough,
So much so,
Reasoned with them.
Never diminishing their simplest prose,
Even if it rhymed with rose....
He loved them in his way,
Once his student,
This year, then forever.
Their woes he read,
In every submission,
No threat treated idly,
He knew but one grade,
Caring.
One rule strictly observed,
No touching,
In this sad age, a crime without
Any absolution.
Then came a day.
School arrived, pre-bell by ten minuets,
His customary arrival time.
This day different.
The long corridor to the classroom entree,
Lined like Noah's ark, two by two,
On each side,
His students past and present aligned,
They would not let him pass,
Till he hugged each and everyone.
Thus, they taught him well the meaning of
Just rewards
For they were his,
Yes, they were his,
Not for the taking,
But for the giving.
His subject,
Creative writing,
of course!
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 5:17 AM UTC
It’s about the American dream
To make more than you need
Through corporate greed
And pyramid schemes,
So I guess I’m not asleep
Since I eat rice and beans
In a crummy C.F.
Apartment,
Or what’s left of that
Ten by ten compartment
I can barely afford,
Like the ******
Degree that was supposed
To reward my hard effort
By leading me toward
A corner office
Or something
Like that
I should desire,
But **** it,
Let’s get higher,
I’m getting bored,
And my heart is heavy,
And I’ve been
Forsaken
By the country that
Bred me
Yet expects me
To slap on some flak
And attack
Fathers and sons and brothers
In Iraq
Over nothing
But ideological
Fluff
And political stuffing,
It’s nothing
It’s nothing
It’s nothing
It’s just not worth
The time or frustration
To engage in
This nation’s
Procreation
Of condemnation
Of logical reason,
Though reasoning
Lies not in the
Eye of the reasoner
Or that of the reasoned,
It’s gotta be easier
Than achieving
Appeasement
Through please
And leasing
Thank yous
To random
Strangers,
But if
You believe
They, like you,
Are human
Then the danger
Is fleeting,
Cuz they’re feeling
The same feelings,
The sane feelings of
The chronically
Sure,
The always right,
Everything in its
Right place,
Yea I know Tommy,
I must endure
And try to say
I should try to save
The knaves,
But life’s so easy
As a slave,
You buy your
Goods
And pave the way
For impoverished hoods
And hoodwinked
Majorities
Who’ve already
Made
The sacrifices
Necessary
For the necessary
To get paid,
Hope you did some good
With that bogus bonus
Mr. Suit and tie
And perfect life
With the plastic wife
And bank account
You’ll never drain,
No matter how many
Times you make it rain
On upscale hookers,
It runs too deep
To keep all to your
Selfish selves,
But I guess it’s our
Faults we don’t wear
The leadership caps
Cuz we should’ve pulled
Ourselves up by our
******* boot straps
And made something of
Ourselves, right?
Those that deserve
To make the big bucks
Make it happen, right?
Time for the forgotten *****
to put up a fight.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 12:26 PM UTC
Kamran Javed I'll answer in public
I'm not arguing with you.
As you seem to take issue in all we do
Your a Muslim I get it and respect you for that
So get off my back because I'm not!
In not Muslim or Christian nor infidel
I'm human and loving and reasoned as well
So I didn't put "Holy" before your Quoran
Or glorious or blessed and your not happy with that
So now I'll explain and then say no more
Take your crusade to another's door
The term "Holy" only proceeds a text if you follow..
I've read it and don't I don't worship Allah
To a Christian the bible is "Holy" To you it is a book .
To a Muslim the the Quoran is "Holy" to a Christian a book.
I don't follow either that is my choice
So don't try to impose your religious ideology on me
Or others that comment FREE SPEECH IS FREE
Remember the site is for poetry too
Not to convert to Islam with you
Learn some tolerance for others who write
You decided to post here, your choice alright
If the world's out to get you ask yourself why?
You like to take issue with all that we write
I and others agree and praise what you say
You argue and don't take it that way
It isn't personal don't make it so
This site is for poems not war or crusade
So blessed by Allah and your holy book
I respect your religion and your way of life
If you don't like mine I don't give a flying spaghetti monster
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 7:36 AM UTC
“Sometimes love is stronger than a man’s convictions.”
– Isaac Bashevis Singer
1.
There are wars, and rumors of wars—
machineries, machinations
of singular dark days,
and clouds that hang
like props above our city.
We shut the windows,
refuse to watch their play.
Hungrily, we take refuge
between each other’s legs.
How comforting it is
to love without armies,
without tanks,
without generals of reasoned love.
---
2.
There are wars, and rumors of wars—
machineries, machinations
of singular dark days.
From the narrow street, they see us
wrestling with an angel—
the tug of limbs, the tangle of hair.
You whisper low,
your seditious talk of love—
as my callused hands get caught
in your low moaning—
while I hold you down
to the bed,
my captive.
The occupation has begun—
your occupied body,
my country of ardent prayers.
---
2.
There are wars—
machineries, machinations
of singular dark days.
The soldiers are leaving for the front.
Not us.
We stay behind,
to wage our war
of tenderness.
They leave this morning.
Applaud their sad theater—
the warships, the planes.
Soon,
letters will arrive
without them.
A few men will return—
gaunt, less than before—
with more silence,
less dancing.
And when they do,
our war will have ended
under a flag
of white bed sheets.
Only a little blood.
Victorious,
we’ll write love letters
on each other’s bodies.
Apr 25, 2025
Apr 25, 2025 at 3:20 PM UTC
The poet speaks on anything
thinking their words are fresh as spring,
logical as philosophy,
and tuned to nature’s harmony
Socrates reasoned that the voice
of poets was not one of choice,
but rather was much inspired
by gods touching minds with fire
The audience finds more meaning
in the mad poet's own ramblings
than the epileptic speaker
himself will ever dare ponder
They speak first on others behalf
as if they are the better half;
fancying themselves conqueror,
fisherman, a seer, and doctor
By what means are they qualified
to serve as humanity's guides?
How do the epics of Homer
make you more than imitator?
Cicero, Plato, Lucretius
Davinci, and Heraclitius:
Rare to find artist and scholar
in the wise true philosopher
Be wary of the charms of rhyme
and seduction of meter’s time
As these are well known to allure
common fools to charleton's words
Jun 1, 2019
Jun 1, 2019 at 5:27 PM UTC
I, (Love Thy Neighbor As Thyself)
*how I would, honor this with ecstasy joy effervescent,
the simplest of methodologies, if only I,
reasoned how one safely permits
to love myself, if only I,
knew how to love an
I
to self love well,
not a university course,
no simple answers like thirst, yet how I thirst,
hunger, burst, curse for this peculiar wisdom, please,
instinct me to navigate murderous shoals of take but give
I
who teaches this to the children?
I, parents, teachers, not ****** or pastors or
TV the great substitute for all of the above,
myself is not a selfie, no glorying got in I,
I, burdensome, never comprehended,
love thy neighbor better, love actually, no mere pretense,
if well executed, perhaps is when the trapeze line is at last
cleanly indistinguishable,
your I, my I,
both wicks will be joined, brighter lit for it,
one flame, one godlike burning, fusing,
with neither consumed, wax fusing,
but teaching easy loving
to explode the
I,*
~
9:24am EST
6/2/17
airborne over the Western US of A
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 4:35 PM UTC
She gave her all to him,
Her heart, body, soul and dream.
How many times she caught him lied,
But when he reasoned, all the doubts died.
Her heart's melted when he said "I love you"
All the fights and misunderstandings were gone.
But he keep on doing this whenever he wants to,
When he's angry, he said the words that hurts you to the bone.
You know this is not right,
But you got blinded by your love's light.
If only I can dictate your heart,
I want it to push him out.
So you can make a brand new start,
If only you'll be OK by belting a shout.
You don't deserved all these heartaches and pain.
Why he's treating you this way, I'm aching.
He didn't realized how lucky he was to got you,
If I were him, I will show your real value.
As a friend to you, can you please hear me?
Leave some love for yourself,
It's just not meant to be.
Don't give up hope, cos it's not too late.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC
sleight of hand season
will not be reasoned with
brumal upheaval
Mar 3, 2023
Mar 3, 2023 at 9:42 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, make the last month count<3
reasoned reasonably to the reason
if it doesn't work congratulations self-treason
blames are things for the air to worry
& my mind isn't the place to be sorry
back in fancy blacks & charming winks
them feels a gift so make them pink
what's past is indifferenced past
& dreams become a truth to an optimist's last
-------ravenfeels
Nov 29, 2021
Nov 29, 2021 at 6:33 PM UTC
Prohibition came, but not to Whiskey Hill.
A man has got to eat; a drunk must have his fill.
Old Abner dug a basement before fall
Beneath the milking barn at night;
Dug down and mortared up a wall;
Bought copper sheets and hammer-fit 'em tight,
Disguised his vent holes in the stall
By countersinking posts to keep them out of sight.
Set down a trapdoor and a sturdy stair,
Strawed the lot and penned up his old mare.
In all he did, he didn't tell his wife a thing;
He reasoned there was money to be made...
More than the crops would ever bring,
More than the eggs the chickens laid,
He'd be enriched by moonshine in the spring.
He learned to ferment mash from an old book,
Soaked down a bag of corn and let it sprout,
Waited twelve full days before he took a look,
Cracked kernels, poured on water, boiling hot,
Then pitched the yeast and left his hidden nook,
And all the while kept his mouth shut;
Seven days and Sunday passing by,
Old Ab could wait no more;
Ate supper quick and told his wife
He'd one more feeding chore...
Stole to the barn and shoo'ed the mare aside,
Pulled up the vent posts from the floor,
Climbed down and lit a fire inside
Beneath the still to let the vapors soar.
A thrill began as drops began to fill the jug;
The fore-shot blended in as Ab forgot
That methanol would poison off the slug,
So when a shot he took, his breathing stopped.
Above, impatient Molly stamped, then paced
Hungrily in her pen, shoved to reach her hay
And dropped the standards in their place,
Plugged tight the vents, above where Abner lay.
When Hildy woke, her husband still was out;
She walked down to the barn, no sign to see;
And thought it odd the horse was out...
The cattle lowing hungrily for feed.
The sheriff came to have a look;
No luck had he,
Old Hildy sold the place and moved away.
Where she went and how remains a mystery.
A cousin bought the place: house and barn and still (unseen).
His sons, exploring, found old Abner in the spring
Beneath the horse's paddock where he lay.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 1:40 AM UTC
I'm manic, and so is everyone else around me. We are drowning in our self prophesied nadirs; enraptured in the drama of our lives; enamored with the devils we chose to let live.
We reasoned "What harm could come from this spirit which suffered to bring me such joy, which rose from the depths to meet me in the eye and kiss me on the tongue?"
And we know, the floorboards are soon to split, that the world was not meant to drown all at once.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 2:33 PM UTC
I stroll into the bathroom
newspaper tucked under my arm.
The silent morning ambience
holds for me a special charm.
Whistling,I lift the toilet seat
to take my morning leak.
I'm stopped up short
when I hear someone speak.
"Morning bro,what's up?",
came the voice from below.
I stared in utter disbelief
at the toilet saying hello.
"Don't freak out",it said.
"Just do your thing,I'll do mine.
We can be the best of mates
till the end of ***** time."
"Oh well",I thought
and started where I left off.
Aiming into a talking ***
Isn't easy..Hey!Don't you scoff!
"Wow!You've got a lot stored up"
quipped the rude toilet.
"No wonder they're saying there's
a drought in the nearby hamlet"
On-off,on-off came the flow
as the seat moved up and down.
Only later did I come to know
I own the most loquacious loo in town.
Irritated I told it to shut up.
"Bro,what will you p### into?",
it laughed,splashing water around.
No arguing that,it speaks true..
"Hey did you hear?
Old Loo-pin next drain
got married to Pottyara.
I hate her,she's too vain!"
"Work on your technique mate,
I've seen toddlers do better...
My,my!Seriously?!Still got more?!
I'm getting wetter and wetter!"
"Will you hold still!"I shouted.
"Hey don't take that tone with me.
Being watered in the maw ain't fun.
Swap places and then we'll see!"
"It'd be a lot more easier",I reasoned
"if you would stop yapping.
Who cares about super toilets?!
Now just start lapping!"
"Okay sheesh,someone's grumpy.
What?!show some pity on the loo!
Hey!Wait!Stop right there!!
Sh##,now I've to take poo too?!"
"Okay get this over with quickly.
You're choking me!!Aaaahhh!!!
Okay,never ever again take
chilly sauce with pizza!"
As I flush and leave,it cries
"Oh the horror!the horror!!!
All the perfumes of Arabia
cannot wash away this odour!"
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 11:09 AM UTC
A tiger at the zoo.
Violent, impulsive, and insatiably ferocious;
To be feared, surely dangerous?
Aging in captivity, he watches the people walk by; who mostly are thankful at him safely set apart from others.
A woman pauses in front of his predicament, and thinks," What folly is this? For I do not fear the untamed, I will test him and encroach upon his pride."
Her reasoning unclear, she approaches that cage;
Not caring whether for her safety, or his-
To **** into action, something that may or may not be safe.
I watched this from some distance, and thought,
"Will she push too far and his animalistic savagery will overcome, to fatally satiate her curiosity?
Or, will he give it no thought at all and soon expect his scheduled pittance of flesh to devour?"
After all, I reasoned, he is still a tiger.
I watched intently. And waited...
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 3:17 AM UTC
“A demagogue, in the strict signification of the word, is a 'leader of the rabble'.” — James Fenimore Cooper, "On Demagogues"
a political leader who seeks support
by appealing to popular desires &
prejudices rather than by using rational argument;
A demagogue or rabble-rouser is a leader
in a democracy who gains popularity
by exploiting prejudice & ignorance
among the common people, whipping up the passions
of the crowd & shutting down reasoned deliberations;
rabble-rouser, agitator, political agitator,
soapbox orator, firebrand, fomenter, provocateur
"he was drawn into a circle of campus demagogues"
Only in ancient Greece and Rome
was it a leader or orator who espoused
the cause of the common people;
demagogues overturn established customs of political conduct,
or promise or threaten to do so;
demagogues have appeared in democracies
since ancient Athens. They exploit a fundamental
weakness in democracy: because ultimate power
is held by the people, it is possible for the people
to give that power to someone who appeals
to the lowest common denominator
of a large segment of the population;
demagogues usually advocate immediate,
forceful action to address a national crisis
while accusing moderate & thoughtful opponents
of weakness or disloyalty
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 7:44 PM UTC
Walking across dunes,
And dreams,
I hear the music,
And let myself down,
Holding hands,
Behind consciousness,
Open to suggestions,
Vivid limits,
Aspects of self,
Cannot be reasoned,
For love is growing,
Holding hands,
A beginning,
Dimensions open like flowers,
Petals awake to sunrise,
Submerged deeply,
Like sandy shores,
and tsunami efforts,
Breathing new depths,
Of understanding,
Holding my hand,
Touching my face,
Gently whisper into my ear,
And release.
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 6:32 AM UTC
Have I found you?
Starless sky
Wordless
Rising
Or have I lost you?
Stolen charity
Golden
Folding
Steel skeleteons
Burning through the dust
Silver has lost its worth
Lustful heap
Hurting bleak
Always wanting teeth
Jealous
Weeping
For that reasoned skin
A night bending on my knees
I'm waiting for her to come back
The sea is spinning on summer eve
Two small blue jars around my neck
Holding your street-light eyes
And his quick wits grounded
Lonely small-town fires
Have I found you?
Chain the sound of your name on my wrists
Or have I lost you?
He's sore but warm.
Leave me out here drenched in hope
It's just your bones your made of.
*Oh you love him with all of your body
Oh that's alright with me.
Always,
Honey
Always.*
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC