"schisms" poems
Pain, pain.
Shame, shame.
Why can't we all be friends?
Sorrow, sorrow.
Fear, fear.
Why am I so afraid?
A people hating its own
So much hate, pain, fear.
Why?
Why can't we just be at peace?
You can never truly win.
Your negatives will always outweigh
The positives.
True happiness is nonexistent.
Why? Why?
Why can't we reason together?
Sit and drink tea together?
Why all the schisms and hypocrisy
And hatred? Bias?
Why am I here?
What is my purpose?
What is my existence?
Do I mean anything to anyone?
What?
Why?
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 7:50 PM UTC
The old man said to me "son, timing is key"
I said, "old dude you look like a man who heard about rythym".
Old felines like you come a dime for a dozen, always poppin of yang about isms and schisms .
Naw fresh meat. This buds for you, If I really knew then what I thought that I knew
I wouldn't be grading your papers with exes and checks but I see in your eyes that your vision is short.
You think you hot **** but aint all that smart.
FYI pops I think that you reading me wrong.
You cant see my dimensions nor fade my intentions.
So you think they broke the mold. you have this thing down cold.
This has never been done before you.
Here ,wipe your nose.
Hey Senor senior if your so informed,then please pass along a few high value pearls.
How bout the one telling about what women want cause you really cleaned up in
the female department .
The old man just smiled and said "pearls before swine.
Just drop a few breadcrumbs to find your way back".
Off is the direction I want you to truck he said.
Don't forget Wonder is the best kind of bread he said
You must be slow or just light in the head he said.
Yeah, whatever.
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 4:22 AM UTC
You subtly strum soft passionate symphonies of pathos
and are wordless in casual relapse
to canals of bliss
and carnal bane-
Schisms of cannibalism eat at my soft humanity
with cries of animalism-
that are **** animated in oil.
I consume you on dull nights
because you are there no matter what
And I hate the way you purse your lips
a stenosis of encapsulated disapproval
even pursed in pleasure
Your closed eyes give away more than
any assuming part of fleshy eyelids
slits of white shine as unfaithful mirrors
reflecting my own narcissism.
Afterward in comfortable silence-
two quotation marks still hang naked
trapped in the smell of sweat,
wrapped elaborately around
"I love you"
standing like an alabaster sentinel
but acting more as a crossing guard,
dictating my need
Dec 7, 2010
Dec 7, 2010 at 9:55 PM UTC
I keep fondling dreams as I
flip through FOX, CNN and MSNBC networks.
An electric lady land fantasy
of revolutions where over and over and
under and through inconsistent gibberish of
conservative conversationalists’ and
liberal libel is taken for truth.
My heart is pumping out toxic fiber optic
editorial journalistic pollution like kidneys
secrete the habit of alcohol and
cigarette poisons.
Our dependence on government help is
broken glass shards ruining the
veins of society
while Limbaugh, and spring chicken heads with a
View are enslaving our voices and
limiting the truth of our choices using
eminent domain for our minds as they spit out
their opinions through television and radio
frequencies into our brain waves as truth.
How some American hearts stay warm with
nightly news schisms, burning intolerance,
unreal realism, religious sincerity posed
and limp **** ****** commercials
is amazing. But still a paradox hoax.
May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 3:15 AM UTC
at dusk above,
clouds scud like loose teeth in upper gums
purple-pink in twilight. a deep night, seemingly ' on pause '
as all dust tumbles from bare skin
into the naked cause... our minds defunct. our minds undone.
our soul's law
at the very heart
like all
gods
where the birch and elm keep
lean rabbits, and stab at thee with long shadows with ashy knees
and bramble rabble; a riotous acreage of predation and escapeful providence
far beyond fences and subdivisions
where men add
by dividing
and knit with schisms...
where the earth has fangs in the ocean
and long nights.
your
answer is sovereign
and hunts
foxes
with your
eyes
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 11:35 AM UTC
"Death's gaze ever present on it's tentacles
A weight of power unformidable
Crashing down upon its victims"
Beware the Kraken! A monster of seas
The one sung about in many shanties
Marauding, ripping, and crushing its victims
This a myth by which the crew schisms
But the unsteady seas beneath the hull
Bubbling and boiling, the ocean calls
Unleashing from the bowels of the deep
A beast of lost worlds, oceans it reaps
The Kraken, awaken, outstretches it limbs
The skies are blackened, the heavens dim
With tyrannical force he unfurls his power
The mast snaps, wood shards and splinters shower
Fearful men aboard are pulled to a watery grave
Oceanic law, for this crew of knaves
The last aboard the teetering deck
A captain standing tall within the wreck
Howling at the beast below
Again tentacles high above the sea grow
Dragging the wreckage into the water
Appeasing the beast, the great destroyer
May 10, 2010
May 10, 2010 at 8:46 AM UTC
People
who hold to be sacred
different Values
may indeed be
of comparable Worth.
In-groups
and out-groups
are lousy and petty excuses by which
humans seem to like to justify
inhumane injustice.
Yet, I dare to argue
that, as conscious beings,
Consciousness itself
is the only true in-group;
all other schisms are artificial;
artificial lines drawn
upon beaches of our Godselves
by fingers of our own Devilselves.
All things;
potential and manifest,
named and unnamed;
are equal in the dynamic, flowing balance of the Tao.
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 10:35 PM UTC
I imagine the Egyptians felt about deaths of loved ones a lot like we think about autumn
It isn’t a passing
It isn’t a loss
They are just waiting for them to bloom again.
Plants are a fragile thing but maybe they aren’t as fragile as we think they are
Just as we are often not as strong as we think we are
It is easy to break a person
Especially one who does not want to be broken
Because they are the ones who will fight the hardest and tire quickly
It is much harder to shatter apathy than passion
Then there are the people who want to be broken
People who drink their own pain like water
Or maybe something more toxic like bad wine or good coffee
The people who look at their bruised arms and see lace
Instead of burst blood vessels
Some people need the pain to know they can still feel
They would rather feel agony than feel nothing at all
Some people need pain to create
Pain can be the paint in an artist’s brush, the keystrokes of a writer’s fingers
Some people feel pain because they are afraid to feel anything else
Happiness fades, contentment stagnates, but sorrow is a constant companion
Sometimes I worry
That I am one of these people
I spend my time reading, writing, inhabiting the minds of others
The stories of others
Because I am afraid to look my own story in the face
And see if I like the direction it has taken
Sometimes I live vicariously through the stories of others
Because I am afraid of what will happen in my own
I am trying to be passionate without being breakable
And I am trying to enjoy my water as well as my coffee
And I am slowly learning that I cannot write my story, it must write itself
Inevitably pain is part of every story
Including mine
There will be heartbreak and there will be bruises and there will be hairline fractures, cracks, fissures, schisms
People will leave, be it by death or by simply walking away
But every moment of pain is simply an autumn
A winter
And in time everything will bloom again
Stronger and more resplendent than ever before
Feb 18, 2012
Feb 18, 2012 at 2:55 AM UTC
I knock on doors
that refract light
as sketched shapes of hope.
That chimera of real and illusion.
I remember that in hospitals,
maternity wards and hospice,
doors are to be opened and shut
with gloved hands,
elbows or leaning hips.
I hold myself to a few words:
I needed to go
and so I do,
"one-step at a time,"
when fortitude warms the path
And otherwise,
I remember a red light in the dark
at 6 am in February,
chortling engine
with two hundred miles to traverse -
I was sleepy and restless
and beneath my hums on coffee breath
a seed sprouted
barbs and blossoms.
I doubled down on heartbreak
and the fertility of schisms,
because the world is shaped
by twisting plates that ****** and slide
into one another in dumb collision,
and for all we glean of how,
it may as well be on stone rafts of fate
we built our hopes.
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 2:01 PM UTC
In the schisms of light changes,
Between the honking horns of crying babies
And angry mothers,
The cars hunched in anticipation
Like the smoker’s tongue rolling
Against the teeth for that nicotine speed.
A starry-eyed woman blinked with no destination
In her husband’s Bentley.
The rumbling is the crunching grind of helmets
In a pigskin scrimmage.
I can barely stand the
Stop-Go
Inch-Worming
Of brake-lights.
Car’s trembling is the twitching squirrel
Panic-caught in a lightsocket.
Even if the slim traffic-conductor
That burns like plastic on the fire
Yields us through like a coaxing father,
Hollow eyes don’t yield the lethargic feet.
Remnants of the second millenium’s gas-scorn,
Our can-do attitudes goad our chariots to
Hack
And
Spit
Dust-Sludge in gridlocked gossip.
Sep 23, 2011
Sep 23, 2011 at 11:45 PM UTC
****** normalcy,
Uniforms seeking heresy.
Profiting Prophets,
Marginalizing common pockets.
Provisional divisions,
Promoting war and schisms.
Infectious emissions,
Reducing cognition,
Intends to imprison.
Understand my position,
Kept and set aside.
Dynamic ideas,
The individual has risen.
Abide by lies,
The truth can't decide.
Inside I hide,
The essence of my mind.
But they can't read mine,
I'm ACCESS DENIED.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 3:49 PM UTC
Bustling:
The morph of bodies
of viscous crowds,
of pulsing sounds,
indulging mouths
in conversation and conversation
and the traction of
sheets of breath
on teeth;
everywhere, the room
breathes in unison.
And as buoyed stones
the water schisms and unfolds
around and leaves me
to face new currents,
unsure how to gauge
my own tenor against
the choral undertow.
Mar 22, 2011
Mar 22, 2011 at 1:56 PM UTC
SCHISMS.
I woke up with Lennon on my brain,
I read the news in the usual way,
Turbulence and schisms over isms,
Society's deep divisive chasms,
Why are we all such lemmings?
Bigotry and phobias ever forming--
Imagine a world of informal religions,
Only peace and tolerance in our visions,
For churches, we revere the universe,
Star trekking our young deserve,
Imagine our brave new Planet Earth,
In a century's time, what would it be worth?
All children learning together beautifully,
None taught hatred or hostility,
Imagine no schisms over isms today,
I woke up with Lennon on my brain.
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 5:36 PM UTC
Leonard Cohen, gone the night before we recited Flanders Field,
And our memory was still fresh with poetic inspiration,
The artistic suppression of dread.
Famous Blue Raincoat,
The feelings of despair and isolation abound.
I felt the cold New York traffic that I was separate from all the bustle
And all the life.
Chelsea Hotel with its twists in compassion,
It's all too human and vulnerable to admit your schisms,
The plight of life when it slips away from us,
Into the city and falls off the roof.
Hallelujah resonates most,
The sound of pure emotion
The feeling of triumph with your chest bare to the Earth.
Let the raw expression engulf you, spread the ashes.
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 10:09 AM UTC
Part I
It’s hot tonight,
Boiled tonight.
And I’m drunk tonight
So I scatter tonight
As opposed to
Sleeping tonight; so
Alone’d pave my way.
I speak to parchment,
And with dehydrated
Tongue.
So stack the syllables,
So ebb the songs,
And if words could be
Bricks,
I’d end the stares
And disallow
The gentle breeze,
My window;
Not quite frigid yet,
But like her breath
With a hint of ice,
If only enough,
To coerce my hair,
Specifically
The strands on the
Back of my neck.
And so, we’d shiver.
To be continued…
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC
Honestly I feel on a deep level, subtle schisms of my surroundings
In a dimension where I'm opposite, I know everything, but nothing at all
and if you think everything in this second matters you are wrong
Invincibility, perfection, idealism is how I was as a child
but those barriers of honesty disintegrated, seeing the world and what it projects
realities not a honey coated dream, but one of realization
hearing the lies and cries of what became our generation
you would think change is bad but it keeps life going
self-criticism deteriorates your dreams, dreams your soul sar
so stop, stop, stop, letting the deceased thoughts of yesterday
harm you.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
Umbridging the gap
and the platitudes of word-whores
as well as the Encyclopedic pimps of posh
spiced with lingual ice...
Because I am a simpleton
with a thirst for the Beloved
and its discriptive meanings, I am
scholarly lacking
Juxtaposing my script to refer
to references Grecian or urn,
enflagrante artisan
spurts with superlatives and
personified iambics of rhetorical lines
limned with deep shagrin
because my verbs are linear
even when my chicken scratch
struck midnight a match stick
flame to illuminate
my poetic fluffer's formulae
schisms from my own mind's magician hat...
Not to be-little or slight those hands walking
that yellow the pages
with slothly seeking rote
for meandering bibliographies
a librarian's histology fingers for Captain
Cook / exploration's verbose
exploitation if at most
connecting dots treasured maps
of purposeful / placement for imagery
in the textiles
of poetry's destined and enlightening
cloak & dagger or a Throw
or a goose-down warmth
of Love / to blanket the night away
just as would a mother's / tucking in
from the day's overwhelming
lack of reverances, referenced
oh how to closely listen / or live
beyond the history
to be in the moment
comparing and sharing
our joys and the power of now . . . keep it simple
because I am a simpleton with a thirst
with a thirst for the Beloved,
the Truth of a promise / endowed Tao of Us. . .
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 1:22 PM UTC
.
And the waves crash down on a distant shore,
as worlds collide in a dramatic final encore,
a panic birthing universe, the original sacred chao,
bellicose suns carve furrows like a plough,
seed stars ********** from the maelstroms core,
illuminating that which was not there before.
The universe is a cell inhabiting a bigger store,
a microcosmic component born and newly restored,
internal explosions of chemistry creating divisions,
warping space about ideas, moulding time's schisms,
imagining life as the accident of a misplaced spore,
as the waves crash down on a distant shore.
© Pagan Paul (24/02/18)
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 6:38 AM UTC
For Mum
From the warm chambers of a mother's heart,
a melody beckons new life to start.
A mellifluous miracle. This is nature's cue
to paint life's shades with warmer hues.
A harmony resonates that only she can hear;
a poignant reminder that hope is near.
Her heart's song binds the maternal bond,
and seals its protection from that moment on.
She gave me wings to pursue life's flight;
Settled my mind lest it woke me at night;
Warmed my heart through woe's bitter glare;
Restored life's colour through her devotion and care;
Indulged me with all that I could ever need;
Supplied me with the pabulum to go forth and succeed.
Her benevolence and kindness, her ardour and strength
are treasured qualities that perfectly represent
her role as a mother, my idol and friend;
a beloved inspiration from now 'till the end.
Like a resplendent array of stars above,
we glow together in light and love.
The quintessence of strong; we thrive as one,
drifting in harmony to the beat of her song.
Never to be parted by life's cruel schisms;
we're written into the chords of her heart's pure rhythm.
From the first harmonic beat to lullabies in the nursery,
her rhapsodic care has prepared me for this journey.
and compelled me to write about her in my poetry.
Her music evokes memories that shall never fade;
All is protected by the bond that was made.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC
You put forth and claim you loved me;
And with a murmur
who purrs like my cat
Kindly as sundown to nightfall myself
in such manner—
O' dazzling days o ' ember
Ye, sayeth now you love but
then thine gloaming lips
You say you are at blitheness
Although mired than silhouetted
by pouting kisses
But you say,
You love me
While midst sublime to yours
Beguiling passions, abets
Breathtaking verses,
sweats out of me
I'd love for you to open up
A Fire-burning ardent desires
My God, can you hear me whispering
My amazing Lord!
Please give me my soul mate
to cuddle
and ******
Ahhs of snuggles
Don't let me go this thine nuzzles !
I wanna be entwined unto the shadows
Of blamelessness..
I will fly to you,
so please put a halt for me
But only one thing I doubted about,
Herein hearty Eros of God's love
wherein this immortality is made of,
And die in it,
Yet cherishes was in my
Brain trust, thinking, sweetly,
Oh come to me in my dreams
Whist starring beams
with schisms
Thy butterfly kiss
Thou renew though begotten vow soonest
We can't win 'em all as best
behaviors chronic, in stills
Thou when dost wakes up
As much-needed hopes
our love into the deepest
enchantments of all essence
Oh me, inquesting questions,
Sowith love never-ending failures
Ne'erland of promised lands
Shying away lessons - learned amass
let alone revisiting sadness,
at hand
Oh dear Thee, behold, love me truly!
Once more, wish you could be here
so no more storms to adhere
More so thy moment of September
deemed Saint Cupid's calls for
Quasi-sweeter
Lest my mindset a trendsetter
Let alone sustainable care
You utter
and care
For a favor
In return I can't take it back
But go ahead, come on rays of light
Tough 'love' and found 'lust'
we gonna kiss the disturbed dust
In silence when we must
Unselfishness thoroughfares
and I can't help it but be just..
Oh com'on love me with all thine heart!
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 9:34 PM UTC
My friend wears a head dress
Hijab fabric soft and delicate
She took it off in distress
Odd fabricate cracks in us
Societal systems, suicidal schisms
Golden rules thrown out
Hate loud and cussed in shouts
Or short quiet words said a foot away at a gaspump
threats made okay because you voted for trump
Across an angry mob, lauds praise for Clinton
Turned over cop cars, fires from the ignition
Spread over the masses in blue party indignation
Say they're free from blame, they lost the election
Treat others like less then pennies
Cause their political party is yours enemies
Or cause their skin isn't one of these ... White, White or White
The action is abhorrent, flagrant. None of this is alright
War hate blend brewing its familiar fragrance
Prideful with an aroma of allegiance
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 1:36 AM UTC
(20 minute poetry)
All fine this time though next time who knows.
I am Stuck inside a rhythm,
is there a name for that?
A schism?
and would they name it after me?
I want to be famous instead I am nameless
one of the drones which society
in their kindness homes,
they give me employment and say it empowers me,
but there's little enjoyment and
I get little of it.
And yet I am thankful that I am not in a bank full
of thieves with a grievance and that is a bonus, it seems the onus is on me to find a middle ground yet still be
Decisive.
So
that's how it plays out
I forget about schisms which are not in the music nor rhyming or rhythms and I lay down and die.
I sit and I spy with this Central line eye something beginning with?
And she thought I was looking at her and the clothes that she nearly wore and the bore sat beside her,
I never spied her at all.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC