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B L Jul 2018
In a wakeful contradiction, it lays fact between my fiction,
Tangling subatomics, it unravels as its tricks spin
deeper toward the outward...
                                      it won’t let up, 'til I give in.

Over matter, lay my mind…
I tell a lie to pass the time...
But there’s no reason nor a rhyme --
                                            Less still, a purpose?
I search for something to remind my mind
                     that there’s truth that isn’t worthless…

But as always, failure appears;
                              in a sort-of amnesic continuity.
And my reality lies to my own mind
                              Just as well
                              as it succeeds in its futility.
With destruction as its manifest,
It tells me that I stand my tallest
                              Upon two buckled knees.

And just as faith will find one’s doubt --
                  a search within has left without.
It seems that an answer, once sought out,
                  will be left lacking its question.
My truth divides itself,
                   as a product of infinite misdirection.

I try to substitute a reason for a rhyme.
But with no lies left to pass the time...
                              I swallow a dose of ignorance.
It goes down smoother than the truth.

In a war that started with a truce,
This world betrayed my faith to show me:
                                 that I'm only tall enough
                                 Once I’ve been
                                                         cut
                                                             down
                                                                ­     slowly.

A pill too large to swallow,
                I think I’m choking on myself . . .
Or the irony of asking,
                     “How could I be so careless?”
Here I stand, Barely standing,
                   Consumed almost entirely
By my own dry-heaving self-awareness...

Left to fight the fears that my nightmares create;
I’m still running from my past,
                          yet, haunted by my fate.
They walk beside me always,
                          shadowing wholeheartedly —
Existing as a duality, both apart from,
                         and a part of me.

These ghosts have taught me very little...
                                    Aside from what I hate.
But, I've come to learn not to fear
                                    The forceful hands of fate.
For I shudder not at the thought of destiny,
                                    Or the inevitable in time...
Instead, I fear the eventuality of the choices
That were solely, and entirely, mine.

I fear that my will may be of enough influence, alone...
That fate itself may collapse beneath decisions like my own.
Or that I, myself, might be constructing
What destruction I will find
Among my shattered spirits and convictions,
In these depths to which I climb.

Bad Luck: In A Wakeful Contradiction :

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1691941182
I have grown old,
My hairs are all white,
And my eye-sight is failing rapidly;
I no longer trust my body.
I am now left
With the strength of my mind
And the will-to-live
Which make me think and reflect
In my past experiences.
The intimacy with myself is rent
And I have never cared to inquire
About the kind of world hidden within me;
I have never thought
About my final moorings
And I have never been informed
About the sweet nectar of true happiness
Available everywhere.
I have tried to wander on my own
And refused miracles,
But where ever I go
I swiftly follow me
As if I exist yet do not exist,
To remind me that I am always alone.
Sunlight on my grinning face
Follows me from place to place
But it won’t do
Don’t know how long I can wait
Wandering this empty space
Searching for you

Up and down the barren coast
Listen as the riptide rolls
With so much to say
Probably what hurts the most
Is knowing when you’re so **** close
And still so far away

Once per while I catch a glimpse
Of unintended fleeting hints
To call out your name
Won’t make much a difference
Words don’t carry far upwind
It’s always the same

In the breeze
I see it’s just the wind
It’s a tease
To be at the shoreline again

Shepherd, call the sheep back home
Be thankful that you’re not alone
Round em up one more time
My, how much the herd has grown
With wool to warm your gentle soul
Leave no soul behind
Country song form lyrics
Dr zik Apr 2015
When I go in search of You
In the rain of tears too.
                                  
During walking, talking so
I meet every friend or foe

No left any inn or cave
Each one prisoner and slave

So I am too weak to do
When I go in search of You

At last I find lovely sign
Like a bliss to soul refine

Transparent and sacred You
Reflecting in morning dew

I see you seconds a few
When I go in search of You
"What dignifies the Yogic practices is that the belief system itself is not truly religious. There is no Buddhist god per se. It is the self, the individual mind, that contains immortality and ultimate truth. At least I know where the self is. It’s in our own minds. It’s a form of human energy. Our atoms are six billion years old. We’ve got six billion years of memory in our minds. Memory is energy! It doesn’t disappear – it’s still in there. There’s a physiological pathway to our earlier consciousnesses. There has to be. And I’m telling you, it’s in the ******* limbic system…. I’m a man in search of his true self. How archetypically American can you get? Everybody’s looking for their true selves. We’re all trying to fulfill ourselves, understand ourselves, get in touch with ourselves, face the reality of ourselves, explore ourselves, expand ourselves. Ever since we dispensed with God, we’ve got nothing but ourselves to explain this meaningless horror of life….Well, I think that that true self, that original self, that first self is a real, mesurate, quantifiable thing, tangible and incarnate. And I’m going to find the ******."
-Dr. Eddie Jessup
Film: Altered States
Scriptwriter: Sidney Aaron [Paddy Chayefsky]
Character: Dr. Eddie Jessup
Actor: William Hurt

PostScript: I watched Altered States and thought it was silly, though I suppose it had some small measure of merit given this quote.
Post-PostScript: I read Nietzsche and reasoned there is no coherent self, only a bundle of drives which cannot be meaningful quantified across persons.
GreenTrees Oct 2018
True love is easy to find when it comes from within.



Karl V.  2018
Kevin J Taylor Sep 2015
Depths of green—from canopy to forest floor
In streams of raucous livingness
And there, and where about, a sanctuary
Falls in heaps, in stone walls run aground.

And with, nearby, afar, by ins and outs
Through every place (perceived)
Wherever listened for—vibration.

A single voice in Pali—a single voice
Leaping, leading, dancing, sweeping.

Hello. You greet me.
Inspired by (Founder of Scientology) L. Ron Hubbard's poem, Hymn of Asia, and by my memories of long ago.

.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry from common things.)
Aniron Jul 2017
I abandon the path and mark my visit
deep into natures greens and hidden groves
how the beauty of everything intoxicates me,
and consuming it all leaves me only with no sense:
speechless and bewildered, like a baby.
words seem but a lost cause to me ;
it is almost as if the ferns and its charms
don’t want to be spoken of –
not even a praise.
upon astray land I leave my trail
up the thick pine hill, down the lonesome glen
I sit desperately, in search of only half a word –
it makes no difference at all.
a hint, a hum of frigid air
deep twilight falls upon me like a star
and I fall with it into my own silence.
the hypnotizing haunt of crickets in unseen places
numbs me, almost becomes me
and I become them, like everything becomes
the other thing that lives in its own way.
and just hearing the wise creek babbling,
the traveling breezes’ secret murmur ;
I know I have been unaware all along.
the poem was never mine to write:
I have only to listen.
Adron E Dozat Feb 2015
Some men have a recipe-
It is like a combination
That makes up their ideal
Which says she is gorgeous.
Such things they may itemize;
A face that is angelic,
With eyes that are lustrous          
Full lips of pure seduction,
A voice that is musical,
And hair that falls pleasingly,
It is a child's attitude
That says things make somebody.
I need no such formula
For in you I discovered
A heart that was beautiful;
Which the made me realize
That your face is radiant,
Your eyes are dark mystery,
Your voice is a symphony,
Your hair flows down gracefully,
And your lips are perfection.
I found your heart wonderful
And then I found everything
That a man could desire.
To order my book of inspirational poems at Amazon, https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07HMFML2D
Jeff Gaines Mar 2018
There was a place.
There was a time …
There, I stood … still unknowing
and everything seemed fine.

But there in that place …
at that moment in time …
the moment I saw the eyes,
I'd never believed I'd find.

Well, what could I say?
What could I do?
In a world filled with billions …
and there … was a you.

I'd always known you were out there …
even written of something amiss.
I never, ever stopped looking for you …
because my heart always said that you exist.

My breezy Fall became harshest Winter.
My crazy life left my health running out.
I'd resigned myself that our moment had passed …
but this moment … it removed all doubt.

Well, what could I say?
Tell me, what could I do?
There we stood, staring … alone … in a city of millions …
yes, there … there was a you.

Oh, that mistress fate, she is just so cruel.
Frustration, a curse to be mine.
   I'd searched for you my entire life …
but now … my clock … knows a limit of time.

You see, I would never venture a love with you,
while knowing I'd have to leave you … hurt and alone.
I could only admire from afar … stoic and aloof …
while turning my heart into stone.

Nothing I could ever say and nothing I could ever do …
But now, at long last … at least I finally knew.

There, you stood … green seas, gazing up … into skies of blue.
My long-awaited revelation … become sorrow-laced realization.
There really is … a you.
Imagine that, for most of your adult life, you have had this sense ... this feeling that there is someone out there that you are supposed to find. Someone you are supposed to connect with. You even write about it and have no clue what made you write these things.

You don't know why ... you don't know who ... and you surely don't know when. All you do know is that it has never left your psyche and that it has always carried this strange sense of urgency.

Now ... after 2 decades, you begin to think that you were just being silly and give up on the whole idea and laugh at yourself.
Then ... just as you have accepted that ...

YOU FIND HER.

It hits you like a ton of bricks ... you realize that the person standing before you, looking right into your eyes is THAT person!

And you realize that you are not only too far apart in age, but you also have to deal with the fact that you are terminally sick as well. Now you ponder if it was EVER supposed to be a romantic thing or that things are just ****** up askew in this timeline ... or perhaps ... it was to fulfill or realize something else in the timeline ...

Now ... ask yourself ... What would you do?

This writing became the basis for my experimental short story entitled:

"Somewhere ... Out There".

I launched it here at HP and could NOT believe the response ...
Everyone LOVED it and it got (at this writing) over 2500 views!
So humbled, SO honored by everyone's love.
Find it here:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2396540/thee-longest-piece-ever-uploaded-on-hello-poetry-as-far-as-i-know-i-doubt-youll-read-it-through/
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2013
I am searching for someone
who will make me complete.
I call for the one
and my heart skips a beat.

The one who is out there
will fill me with joy.
He will show me he cares,
lives our lives to enjoy.

Doesn't act like a boy,
but a man and a friend,
and whose heart does enjoy
a love that lasts 'til the end.

Are you out there my darling,
my loved one, the one?
Can I live my life planning
that some day you'll come?

I will build a tomorrow
with more than just me.
I am ready to find you,
now you have the key.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Tony Tweedy Mar 11
Just a few more comments to an earlier post of rhyme.
Where I touched upon how I am seeing different rates of time.
Seems a man named Einstein discovered long ago.
That there was a different perception of seeing time in flow.
He says that if you are moving toward me I will see you shades of blue.
And while you move toward me you are that colour until you pass through.
Those who have been and gone will turn to shades of red.
No I swear that I am serious, it is what Einstein has said.
So I have my answer as to why time moves slow for me.
You are all in motion and I'm stuck where I used to be.
I think I already knew this and suspected it as truth.
But I never expected to have Albert Einstein as my proof.
Leonard Green Jul 2017
Hear ye, hear ye
hearken from the medieval times of old
where knights in the round once roamed
jousting with deeds fought in truth and honor
to protect the weak, the helpless, the oppressed
with an ideology lurking since the dawn of time
that all are born free, unshackled from contrived ordeals
only to soar high with the eagles to become one with the heavens
and bask in the glory of serving the frailty and holiness of mankind

Hear ye, hear ye
it’s Merlin conjuring a magical spell for the spirit
to behold, to marvel, new stages of self-enlightenment
where the essence of the King invades sleeping visions
possibly foretelling ominous events awaiting new missions
or predestined journeys one must endure to become so bold
in knowledge and wisdom offered, living in this world’s mold
not necessarily realized, instead shrouded with unimpeded urges
akin to the signs found in youth, immaturity, the close-minded

Hear ye, hear ye
the quest to sip from the Carpenter’s silver chalice
and taste charitable love for family, friends, and foes
where reckless pride and hatred are speared with the arrow
forged in devotion of a noble belief, tempered with selfless feats
where the sun rises and sets on the wicked actions of human nature
slaughtering the divine lights prematurely, locked within many souls
yet crusades against evil continues, no retreat, no regrets, no surrender
price to uphold the spirit of Camelot, payment in full, services rendered.
One should not fight because one wants to but one has to in order to protect life.  The taking of life should never be considered a good deed...a better way?  Change their minds...
All aboard, we’re goin' down
Next stop, the loony bin!
Familiar faces, hear the sound
Of madness and bitter emotion.
:(:
Cloudy days devoid of light;
Sunrise blends into the dark
Keeping smiles out of sight
And laughter out of lonely hearts.
:):
All aboard, destination love,
But nothing works quite like it should.
Sharing poems, dreams and stuff -
It seemed so easy in Hollywood…
:(:
Hell, why wait now? Don’t hold back!
On the way down, there’s no regret!
The simple claim is dressed in black
To conceal an empty cabinet.
:):
All aboard, but brace yourself
When falling for another lover.
She won’t get dusty on a shelf,
For everyone will read her cover.
:(:

One more page, another chapter;
Knights in armor seek her trust
But that happ'ly ever after
Just won’t happen based on lust.
:):
So all aboard, we’re back on bottom
Runnin' wild with no cause.
Affection, passion; yeah, I got ‘em
But who am I to break the laws?
Written in delusion; punctuation added for effect.
NA Oct 2016
And after all these years,
She finally found the love she's been searching for...

She found it within herself
Wild Myths Sep 2018
Could I find a place here?
It’s been so dark
I turned off the lights,
Pretended no one was home.

Your skin is more alive than mine
It pulses with irregular ecstasy

Our mortality beautiful as the moon retires
Its cycle one of time, ours of the body
Both bittersweet and inevitable.

But the sun is cruel, relentless
Our bodies recoil with the light
No shadows left to hide the creases around your mouth
The years you’ve lived ahead of mine.
G Rog Rogers Oct 2017
Revolution
is a confiding smile
that reaches from
deep within the heart
An outstretched hand
up and out
to give a life forsaken
a new start

To seek and search
far beyond
and glimpse
a brightly shining path
Yet then to look behind
and back again
to be assured that all
will know the way

Rebellion
is a knowing look
a glance from eye to eye
A slight inflection
of radiant joy
in the tenor of a sigh

The quietly warm
and whispered word
with a gentle breeze of hope

Revolution is a beautifully
harmonious triumphant tune
that just won't leave
you alone

-R.

(06)
-TX
Rvsd.

©ASGP
Dr Peter Lim Sep 2018
The search is the angst
it leads nowhere
despite the strongest will
it ends neither here nor there-

even these my final days
after a life of strife and care
the distance lengthens with each journey
understanding I still can't* declare.
*** my sincere apology---NOT CAN,  BUT CAN'T**** DECLARE
Tommy Randell May 2017
It's all bells and whistles these days
Near rhymes and Doc files
Synonyms for that perfect flow.
It's hard sometimes to cast a line
That gets spoken, that hooks an ear
And becomes a Poem.

Harder still to make it to the page
In these electronic times
To get that kudos paper bestows
That magic pass from print to eye
As words become potent and more clear
And the mysterious becomes the known.

Tommy Randell 11th May 2017
You were searching everywhere.
All in vain.

But didn't it strike you,




                                              How can you look for someone,
                                               who doesn't want to be found?
You can only help someone. If they let you help them. isn't it?
Some of us are beyond help. And we need to accept it.
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