"relevancy" poems
Looking at this Rose,
“ya, it’s beautiful right?”
How can something so marvelous
grow in a world so frivolous?
Vibrantly blossoms just to wait out it’s days
Waiting To live out a purpose
other than to wither away
So many potential uses such as dates, marriages, deaths, and holidays
Except for this one Rose
Which got plucked
for no other relevancy
but to just wither away.
Sleep in Peace Jahseh
You left this world way too early but you have left much purpose for us other roses through your music and the way you were changing from your past mistakes. Thank you X
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
So you think you are a master of techniques of persuasion?
You shallow pips-squeak, mediocrity is your mastery
the obsequious hoi polloi that surround you are the pitiable averageness of conciliation
Sophistry and subterfuge are your game of compromised facts
syllogistic arithmetic conceptualizing doesn't make anything so
your addition is flawed by your bungled bombast of banality and guile
fortunately for you, your crowd will never study logic
fortunately for you semi-literacy is de rigueur
You pompous swollen grandiose mass of hyperbolic gas
Fear is what you offer, lies are what you sell
your rhetorical flourish is as the stench of a waste dump
fetid, corpulent, fallow and febrile
toxic
half-truths, innuendos, ambiguities, conjecture and asinine aspersions comprise your specious fare,
fostering rumours, manipulating facts, you are the purported Biblical brood of vipers so extensively reviled against
Your relevancy is attributable to the dull stupidity so profusely prevalent today
Your "success" is the stuff of taint and treachery
You'll probably choke to death on a stuck piece of poorly masticated flesh
so appropriate and befitting the demise of a professional liar
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 12:44 AM UTC
Reading the other day,
an article about some,
Renowned fellow's notion,
On the study of "Human,
Productive Locomotion".
A reputed Authorty,
of "Time Management",
His main proclivity being,
The belief in his increasing,
Other peoples productivity.
Modulating their all too,
common Human tendency,
For naturally wasting time,
and non productive energy.
Him asserting himself to be,
a self styled know it all,
Bonafied Expert in Efficiency.
Now I can see,
How it might be,
That this type of study,
Offers some relevancy,
For the Barons of Industry,
What with them regulating,
The flow, While streamlining,
and furthering the advance,
of all things, relating to commerce.
A purely Scientific belief,
For the primary benefit,
Of the Time Clocks sake,
And all those Bosse's
Emotional financial betterment.
But what on earth,
did that have to do,
with an old retired,
fool like me?
What matter that,
I merely sit and think,
for hours at a time.
Read the paper,
or a book,
Computer chat,
or cook?
Putter in my garden,
Or gratefully just stare,
at big billowing clouds,
or rainbows in the air.
Or perhaps I choose,
to hug my wife,
Or chase my Grand
Kids up a tree,
Maybe grab a nap,
Or even take a ***
Pet my dog,
Or have a Beer.
Watch the Tube,
a little bit,
Or congregate to meditate,
with a convivial group of friends.
Maybe take a walk,
Down by the river.
Get out my old,
Bow and Quiver.
Wash my car,
Cut some grass,
Go to my writing class.
Slip on down,
to the " Red Dog Saloon"
Where I'll promenade,
A little Texas Two Step.
Come home in time,
To unwind and,
watch some David Letterman.
What's efficient,
and what is not?
Clearly, that interpretation,
Is completely up to me.
No Efficiency Expert needed.
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 4:33 PM UTC
I sit amongst rampant consumerism,
Yet I smile as I sip my Starbucks tall Pike Place.
To my left, old ladies decked in Tiffany decry their neighbours folly,
Even while they sit blind to their own.
To my right, Chapters!
Book store that offers so much more,
A perfect monument of society's needs answered in one storefront.
We don't shop here for a read, or for the escape some unknown author's words spell for us.
No, this masterfully crafted shop answers our shared need of empty spending on soulless items that will lift us from the mire of our meaningless lives for one instance,
Before that scented candle or witty greeting card is left to collect the dust of our fallen gods.
Behind me the street is full of noise but no one is listening,
Busses carry the many but each is a world onto themselves,
Thoughts not of their making wrestle for attention with smartphones,
Before long the thoughts echo what the eyes read on the digital screens glowing below them.
The enemy of my friend...
Don't let consciousness wake!
Combined the noise without and the noise within will drown whatever chance we had at relevancy.
And so Oprah wins,
Look under your chairs,
It's your new life,
Not to be mistaken with your old one,
This one comes with a shiny new automobile, trip, ring, dress, shoes,
Anything but enlightenment.
Before me,
Possibilities.
You?
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
seven days until the full switch
unfollowed by many a basic *****
the forty-second day of bureaucracy
make everyone a pope in your theocracy
when you find nothing here to which you can relate
revere in the more extreme state
disseminate mate
let's build each other's relevancy
let's outshine complacency
pay attention to current world history
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 9:00 AM UTC
In a thousand years, will anyone remember you?
Will people read about you on their brain implant computers and bring you up in casual conversation over whatever coffee flavor is popular a millenia from now?
It seems like a stretch. Us humans operate on such a small scale, but we love to dress everything we do up with purpose and grandeur. These days its easier to sink to the bottomside of insignificance and pretend you run the show as you drown than to swim towards relevancy.
There's always time to do it later, right? We can wait... right?
Just... not now.
So many dreams and aspirations have broken open against the constant battering of those reschedulings and put-offs.
Keep your dreams alive. Don't fall under the curse of the Not-now.
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 7:06 PM UTC
Tease me with your words.
Let.
Each.
Syllable
Fly.
Free.
And when you drift
away,
I hope this happiness exists,
that you find
to be beyond
your fingertips.
You put the L
in Lust,
and the Loss
in Love.
But let me not forget
my own imperfections.
When you force yourself
to smile all of the time,
you ready yourself available
to restrooms.
Who am I to say what your smiles mean?
Just as I would not expect you to know mine.
The quirks and the relevancy of
daily life
cloud the fact
that progression
is essential,
and that the need for development
is the reason for closure
and travel.
Emotional baggage is only
goodbyes that aren't finished.
And sometimes they will never
be salvaged; relationships are like that.
But it's important to remember
who you explained a few
smiles to.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 2:19 AM UTC
And why then, should I not? I am not below most and if nothing else am equal to many here with relevancy to being philosophical while writing poetry. The two may be related and maybe it's just personal preference that I try to separate these but it's not without reason or logic.
To write philosophically shouldn't there be few guidelines? Shouldn't thought and inquisitiveness be themselves and without metaphor and emotion?
To write poetically, isn't it more about feeling, grace, and beauty without questioning these?
I understand things change and definitions separate, disperse, die, and are born which is why I'm going to say that the two ideas of contemplation and beauty are inextricable to a certain extent and I'm open their junction.
In the end maybe I'm split on this.
Maybe it's contradictory.
Maybe I'm wrong and it's due to past circumstances that're relatable only to myself.
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 2:10 PM UTC
I'm drawing a blank, here.
Let's spill it all out.
We love everything altogether as it is. Even the things we hate.
We love to hate them. I do. You certainly do.
No relevancy here, please don't even try to understand
This hastily scribbled bunch of swirls
I am just trying to meet my psychological demands
And dance across continental rifts
Deep-sea madness floods
Your brain on the walls
All your memories on my favorite sweater
It's so beautiful to watch your life flash
After your eyes are turned round
And they get all bloodshot
Like my buckshot.
This doesn't make any sense anymore.
What am I doing?
Seriously, guys, what the ****
It's so hard to watch the good ones turn sour.
Beautiful and poetic.
"I hate the way things are."
Dec 20, 2010
Dec 20, 2010 at 6:37 PM UTC
Nothing that is presented on mass is relevant.
relevancy of a new haircut
is ********
The relevancy of infidelity of some famed idiot
is none.
Why do we keep buying into this irrelevance.
Everybody is becoming less relevant because we do.
Apathy will **** irrelevance.
The relevance of these "demi-gods"
is making us dumb.
stop being so ******* dumb.
Your life is more important
Your happiness.
**** the irrelevant ones.
Let them conclude it for themselves.
Feb 5, 2011
Feb 5, 2011 at 10:45 PM UTC
The feeling of your words on my skin,
Is so addicting,
I feel your words corse through my body,
And mend with my white blood cells,
As if a cancer that'd I wouldn't dare treat.
The consonants settle in my fingers and toes,
And the vowels and "Q" go straight to my lips,
Making me virtually speechless,
As I jabber gibberish and tongues.
I feel your verbs in my limbs,
Like an energy that makes me seem supernatural.
I see your nouns float from your mouth,
And sink to the ground,
In order of relevancy from closest to farthest.
I hear your adjectives chirp,
Like songbirds at dawn,
And I whistle back,
Just so I can hear their reply.
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 10:35 AM UTC
closed off, cease candor, delusions of grandeur
to everyone but you, Online Person; because that's your name,
as far as we're both concerned.
this in mind, consider me an open PDF, buried on page ten
of your favourite search engine
hallowed ground, that is.
[not an open book, those are honest and available to everybody who cares to look]
by the time you get to page ten
you've strayed from the path of relevancy
but the results pique pointless curiosity -
partly privy to my pathetic plateau.
and even my brothers are not in the know.
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 2:05 AM UTC
avoiding: love.
or the pains of being in love
when there's indecision,
when I needed there not to be,
when it was coming from both ends.
my tears were like
stepping stones
(a path you've avoided:
because it hurts too much
to feel, or it's easier to pretend
like those feelings
don't exist).
the fear and hesitation
of letting someone else
see
the steps you've taken,
and not
wanting to explain
how they led you to where you are
because it's hard to tell the truth
when you've been lying:
to everyone.
Without realizing it
half of the time,
and then the other half
I just lay in bed worrying about it,
or what other people think.
The thoughts led me to the point
where I couldn't leave my house,
or my room, or my bed.
The depression made me sick
and I didn't know how to deal with it
in any other way than letting it consume,
[like always]
because I was so obsessed with feeling
as much as I could, as intensely as possible.
I just didn't realize how self-destructive it was
because of the people I surrounded myself with
and the people that I wanted to, but didn't.
New Years: I decided not to make any resolutions.
Commitment still isn't my strong point, but I'm working on it.
I didn't treat those days like they were important,
and they weren't:
at the time.
I sought irrelevancy,
and silence,
and thought
and lack: of feeling, of thought, of silence.
Everything in my mind soon became contradiction
and it didn't take long for me to turn into the person
I feared most to become,
and even after I destroyed the image of it all,
it still existed in memory.
back to relevancy.
It's not about the timing.
It's all about the timing.
it's the situation:
the lack of feeling?
the lack of wanting.
the lack of empathy?
the lack of interest.
the lack of mystery?
the lack of understanding.
want is no way to love.
*** is no way to love.
drugs are no way to escape
(they just made me crazy)
crazy?
with thoughts of you,
with trying to forget about you
with trying to please everyone
with... everything.
I was afraid, so I tried my hand at avoiding:
conversation.
(there was too much hurt coming from my end
to yours. I couldn't move on, because I loved you,
but I couldn't love you, because I couldn't love myself,
[or anyone else]. The idea of love grew too big,
[in my mind] [in my pen] [in my journal] [in my life]
[the air around us] [the color of your eyes] [in memory]
[in the amount of time spent worrying about the possibilities
of things that could go wrong]).
confrontation.
(The only way I knew how to say sorry was to hold you,
and holding can mean too many different things and physical
translation has never been my strong point).
truth.
(with lies)
(with truth)
(with secrets)
(with whatever seemed to work at the time).
making changes
instead of planning changes.
I've said sorry too many times for the wrong reasons,
and not enough for the right ones.
I'm just glad to be myself again.
Apr 22, 2011
Apr 22, 2011 at 12:14 PM UTC
<|>
for some time,
in these troubled moments,
midst the uprooted formless firmament
where rawest poems come from,
and the saddest gentled, go to die,
colloquially a place, a space,
we call,
time
in these, them days of lockdown quarantine,
time has lost its preeminence,
the swagger of precision-swiss-definition
of the imposing measuring stick of
routine
is lost to that very
formless firmament
we look at each aghast,
with wild puzzlement faces,
inquiring of each other,
“what day of the week is it?”
the eavesdropping, spying voice of this device
answers,
“see the upper left corner”
which is kind of a miracle
but not nearly as amazing that
a few hours later,
or some time span of an approximate relevancy,
(we assume,)
we ask each other, once more,
in a reverie of hopelessness,
with total no-pretense of the
when,
no, worse,
the frightening pointy needlessness of
why
it matters
“*dearest darling,
pray, pray,
what day of the week is it?*”
Apr 29, 2020
Apr 29, 2020 at 4:38 AM UTC
I didn't know that when love ended
the aftershock
Would be worse
than the initial explosion
I didn't realize that hate
would be your only response
to an empty bed
"How could you leave me"
Yelled with daggers and lies
And all manor of venom
It was decided,
at some inner war council I'm sure
That any possibility of friendship
Would be collateral damage
" - the ***** must die"
I walked unaware into an ambush
I should have seen coming
I thought love
would be like the cockroach
The last to survive
Suddenly I'm your worst enemy
You never question the relevancy
Of how your current behavior
Matched your past behavior
And maybe that's why
We ended only to finish
With the decimation of
Us
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
Oh this youth,
standing in crowds in replica to their own.
Only perceiving the pursue of whats new and whats next.
Its a hunger for relevancy,
a persona.
Those in angst, in stride of going against.
Those in discard, choosing to ignore.
Those in bliss, falling into ignorance.
All unwittingly failing to look in the mirror to gander
at their true **** reflection. . . . . .
Yet they move as one amoebic parasite, reproducing at every
pleasure their senses receive.
But the perfumes and scents still fillthe condensed air.
Disguising the real wrank fumes of our the product we consume.
Soon, like every phase in history, these
images will be lost along with the ones who chase it.
But the moments before they're gone,
they will realize that none of the objects they have
obtained, were ever relevant.
Only holding back the true **** beauty
of the human kind, its experiences, and the wonder of the reality we actually live.
Don't follow the minds from the past.
These ideas will again be cycled.
It is our choice to evolve from our gluttonous behaviors and let our mother regain what it has lost.
What we know will be taken by time.
Jul 18, 2011
Jul 18, 2011 at 10:58 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
I wait for you,
No matter where you are,
Its 4 o clock in the morning,
Where have u gone,
Never again,
Never again,
But,
Its 4 o clock in the morning,
I need relevancy,
Waiting for you,
Its boring,
But I miss you dearly,
Its 4 o clock in the morning.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 9:49 AM UTC
The energy given.
Depleted and mistreated.
As though my timelines have no relevancy to those around me.
Drained without replenishment, no water for my roots.
Only synthesizing the air for you to breathe a higher quality of self involvement.
I'm seeking a synergistic bond where helping hands spread beyond two.
I'm fighting my way through the balance.
Where positivity is borderline naive.
Where I can believe before seeing.
Where the truth in me lifts the truth in you and we exchange oxygen freely without needing to speak of need.
To meet along lines of being human and the same, without the hierarchy of names.
To meet from which we came.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 4:40 AM UTC
the world was just too overgrown when humanity found it
every detail of nature was inconvenient
every animal was enslaved
every continent needed a dominant empire
humans needed their mechanical Eden to skim by heaven
to prove we are wingless angels
and make their chemically induced clouds cry acid tears
shots fire at our brothers
trying to prove our dominant animal coats
and war paths are proven less prehistoric
with manufactured metal bullets
history was being made before the
concept of language was conceived
but language is wasting away
back into nonsense
because why express yourself with knowledge
when it is constantly accessible
social snakes slither around honesty
while the truthful hide their ankles with heavy wool socks
and after the constant strikes
the poison sinks in
and the relevancy to being honest is lost
numbers for the pure of heart and free spirited dwindle
and i am lucky enough to find the few left
holding the heavy burden of the question
Why?
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 11:03 PM UTC
Contract;
In order for this business relationship to be beneficial to both parties, here is what to expect, and what I'll expect in return.
I expect you to give me attention, especially when I plead that I don't need it. I expect sweet messages sent at random that don't hold any relevancy to what we're experiencing. I expect truth, loyalty, and respect. I expect your time.
In return, you can expect being loved until you wish you had never met me in the first place, being attentively looked after but not to the point of clinginess. You'll be privy to poems, songs, and ideas penned about you frequently, and you'll never be alone. Your heart will be mine to guard and to keep not as my own but as ours. And know this; I will never leave.
Terms for this agreement are thus; time will be made for the other party. I will not have to experience a breakup over the phone because you won't make time to see me after six months of what I thought was love. We won't have to make excuses about how we're still hanging in there; if things don't work, they don't work.
And finally, we must agree to be mutually exclusive.
Under these conditions- which are for the most part immobile but are open to suggestion- and these conditions only will this business agreement be not only agreed upon but maintained. Any breach of this contract will result in...well.
Term to end: hopefully, never.
Just sign the dotted line, here.
______________________________________X
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 8:15 AM UTC
Someday when the birds learn how to mock our cries of scrutiny
You will gravitate away from the floor that is magnitized with your mistakes
Will you change your polar relevancy and float away in such a manner that you can hear the birds screech about trivial actions that somehow became your reputation.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
Can you see, the relevancy
Of you and me beneath this tree
This Cross of life that came to be
When a lie was told, so sinfully
For you and I, from babe to old
Will learn a truth that had once been told
That our hearts and minds had once been sold
To a devilish prince, who had once been gold
But now he lurks like twisted vines
Into the world's unsuspecting minds
To plant more lies, deceives, reminds
That we're worthless junk with sins of kinds
Don't listen, don't hear, just close your eyes
Instead set heart to heavenly skies
Where all nature sings a praise that rise
To glorify a King so eternal wise
This King is God, who so loved us all
He sent His Son to catch our fall
With all His might, His blood, His all
Gave His beautiful Name for us to call
So make today that day you make
A decision that'll make your spirit wake
Believe in Jesus who will powerfully take
Your pain, your death, your fiery lake
This life is short, don't wait to die
When it's way too late to even try
To turn around and say goodbye
To a life of pain not worth your while
So can you see the relevancy
Of you and me redeemed, set free
Released in faith to truly see
Our hearts are God's, eternally.
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 9:31 AM UTC
I see you've made another enemy,
but this time it is different.
Isn't it?
You're battling for relevancy.
Maybe this time they'll stick around
They'll be the needle that you need.
The drug for your veins' vanity,
addicted to each other's greed.
You crave each other's attention,
wanting that toxicity,
that makes you so well-known.
The drama for your soul.
Because peace can't exist without war,
so keep chasing them you fame *****
Making your own enemies!
Fighting battles in the streets!
May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 3:24 PM UTC