"simplistically" poems
Humanity is simplistic contrary to the complex, misunderstood, myriad of separately analyzed individuals that psychologists, artists, poets, and scientists paint it to be. Each person is labeled with a different disorder founded by their apparently personal past tragedies and harbors the wholehearted, mistaken, belief that they are alone in their “tragedy” which is indeed not tragedy but a side effect to the human condition, and arguably, to the optimist, one of life’s sacred milestones. Humanity likes to romanticize these milestones. They dress up their societal deemed shameful past with cashmere sweaters, line their lips with the grief of loss, and sweep their eyes with trust issue mascara all in an effort to pronounce themselves worthy and prove themselves beautiful despite their “unique” past events and tragic flaws. But they are not unique. When you peel off the pearls, when you delete the username, when you strip away the added flair to each sad story, humanity is all the same. They all front loss of some sort, they’ve all battled insecurity, they’ve all woken up one day perhaps wishing they hadn’t woken up at all. They’ve all laughed, cried, chased after the fleeting ideal of love, and questioned its palpability. They’ve each found themselves in a situation that made them ponder their ability to ever trust again, if they could ever love again, if they could ever be the same again; but what they don’t realize is that they are all the same. Rough the personal and each person is the same, just with a different name. Step back and behold, these seemingly individual fallacies of the human condition all spin together to weave a simplistically complex web.
Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 9:49 PM UTC
“You are a cynosure and I a modest demure man,
I cannot be accordant with the crowd you have,
You a cynosure beauty of elegance and wonders,
A woman of higher standards and I very simplistic,
Can such a person take interest in me what may it be,
Is she mindlessly judging me as an equitable man?
By sweet emotions thoughts reflected as irises burgeon,
From her head to toes I kept on admiring this divinity,
Is her heart for love that like a thorn with no rose?
Or mitotically lovely when in love as seen before all,
She would not be able to conform to me it would be I,
Could my simplistically standards sway her to me,
But why do I blame myself that she took a liking to me,
I imagine her hands touch the earth and the roots dilate,
Sprite knows deep quintessence of water and the earth,
We then conjugate together like an equation of loam”
By A. Guzaldo 07/21/2018 ©
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 5:12 PM UTC
By Arcassin B & Olivia K
AB: As long as the earth turns , let auras fly into the abyss,
Just to get a hug or a kiss From a loved one,
OK: To find you waiting at the end of the world to carry me
through in a pastel pink rosebud,
AB: I feel the flames of Hades calling me ,but I
Woke when heard angelic presences,
OK: calling to me with ****** song, harps be strummed for all to hear, harp strings tug at heart strings,
AB: too much decadence for everyday people to comprehend on the
Bliss that is heaven cringed,
OK: Painted in raging scarlet, heaven vibrates simplistically, causing rolls of thunderous applause and so those rains fall, releasing the reins of horses wild,
AB: And while we lives wondering what have could be a historical moment, Flower grow like stallions flowing through the grass so surreal,
OK: and here we live in dreamlike skies as love be cultured as grown pearls before our sparkling eyes.
Together we ride the smiles we share, a surreal helter-skelter.
Known only as true love.
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 6:29 AM UTC
*Solitary, lie-back moments; of being in the coziest of places surrounded by the most mundane yet magical. Melancholy has a way of tinging itself with those little nuances of memory, and those little nuances of memory tinge themselves with shades of bittersweet and sad recollection over time. Silent reckonings, simplistically suppressing thoughts - all huge contradictions to the slow, natural motion of letting the waves wash over you.
Is this emotional maturity? Is this a step forward? Life is always full of too many intricacies to tell for sure.
The familiar scents of tearstains and revulsion being punctuated by the occasional flicker of light ahead; pain and perseverance, hope and the promise of heaven.
We are so full of contradictions - concrete, grounded beings yet with so many abstractions and complexities in our heads. A constant grapple, a relentless cycle. Coming back to places of washed up memories has this effect on you; but you pull through, you plough through quicksands, you pick up the small rationalities that have gone astray, and you move forward like you’ve always been doing before. It’s the only thing we know how to do.
Walk on our own, on our own two feet.
And pray that whatever knocks us down, will never be enough to sink us.*
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 10:31 AM UTC
Wry is one of many things you do well....
~~~~~~
dedicated to, inspired by Paul Anthony Hutchinson, who wrote those words to me but two hours ago
*Wry
- produced by a distortion or lopsidedness of the ****** features: a wry grin.
- abnormally bent or turned to one side; twisted; crooked: a wry mouth.
- devious in course or purpose; misdirected.
- contrary; perverse.
- distorted or perverted, as in meaning.
- bitterly or disdainfully ironic or amusing: a wry remark.*
It is bitter,
It is amusing,
the distorting that gives a shape and thereby
meaning
to a misdirected life,
the ****** muscles perused,
all reversed, all per-versed
t'is not just the smile that is loopy,
or simplistically turned upside down,
twisted but not dubious, nor devious,
twisted but straight, I say,
wry is not a seething something I do well,
wry is in every nuclei I ever split,
every line etch-a-sketched in every poem
worn down,
physically inscribed on my face.
so much to reveal,
but not here not now not,
ever on and ever in, explicit
but blurred, burred, and buried
within them is the ironic of a man
that laughed through the better part of his life,
for in that period, there was no
better,
just worse
I was born wry.
the last of three, I was nameless till I was twenty one,
they called me just
brother, or the brother.
at twenty five, I married the wrong woman,
though we both wanted not too,
thirty five years of wry, the lawyers rejoiced,
the judges celebrated, the poets went mad,
swear it true,
the family counselors said
beyond hopeless,
and with wry smiles at the spectacle of years wasted,
spent like there was no tomorrow,
for there was none
in the titanic disaster of more, new lives corrupted
I lived life wry.
now, in the final fourth quaternary,
see how he,
the master of the unceremonious,
in on bent knee, hands clasped, on bed, rested,
when he seeks comfort and guidance for the upcoming
finality following a two minute warning,
warning that even now,
the future wry, turned to one side, when all he wanted,
was to live quiet in the straight and narrow
and not write poems asking himself with trepidation,
from where will come the courage to make this
last passage....
oh yes, I do wry so well,
and all things that wryhme with hell,
you will be spared,
for wryly he exclaims
"Enough, enough"
wry why!
for in all the days of his disheveled life,
there have been but a few,
when it has been simply,
enough
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
These shoulders do not cry out
from the weight of the world
they ache in silence
from the weight of my soul
I carry the burden of sympathy
I gnash my teeth
I grin and bear it
all the while you ne're forget
what it must be
to live simplistically
the weight rolls off
and in jubilee you have forgot
the meaning of life
and sacrifice
what once was love
becomes a vice
unburden yourself of expectation
this selflessness nears expiration
furling your brow and struggle for leverage
try as you might the weight is not average
and in your final act of courage
you stand up straight
you carry the weight
because if not you
then who?
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 5:54 AM UTC
The world, over millennia, keeps evolving. Over 3,400 years of recorded history, powers, nations keep shifting, sometime seismically. Now is the time for not only the grandest seismic shift ever, but also the one that will save Earth and all living creations upon it. It is time for Earth to become Earth--not a scattering of over 200 nations with artificial borders, but an Earth that has one land, one sea, one sky, one people. The boundaries that have simplistically divided us for eons are not on maps, but in our minds and hearts. The air and water of Earth, even the pandemic, take no notice of national borders, nor should we, the Citizens of Earth. Technology, with its innumerable advances, has made us into a world when all can become one. We are free to be our real selves, to spend our variegated lives not aggrandizing, but by sharing and giving. Rather than dreading our superficial differences--our different skin colors, our different cultures, our different religions, our different languages--we can explore and enjoy them. Let us finally be what we truly have been forever, one big, worldwide family of humanity. No more wars, no more weapons, no more killing. No more hunger, no more homelessness, no more hopelessness. No more ignorance, no more illnesses, no more social classes. No more wars, no more corruption, no more dictators. Only Peace on Earth forever. This is the quantum leap of which I speak.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 7:46 AM UTC
It's simplistically the most painful baring ever,
the world is rotating slowly alongside that time, we grow.
I sit here not amused with myself, in every form of way,
I honestly want to be grateful for everything,
but it is never enough for me.
I look at the clock going off in my mind,
ticking every single second away.
I stare at the walls which slowly decorate themselves,
but realistically always look the same.
I feel myself slowly urging to advance yet never seem to do so.
I see myself crying inside,
I want to let out yells and I don't know why.
A woman can paint her life away, staring at the same objects happily,
yet I am here sitting here writing the same **** things over and over until they satisfy me.
Why do I stress out on being so perfect to the eyes of others?
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 9:19 AM UTC
As I embark/
that spark
within me
pushed to part/
ways
there's a game
of world to see
I had played my part/
and roll
ride the waves/
put I could not stay/
if respect out of order
Or in disarray/
It's ok life's a jour-ney/
From date of birth to gur-ney/
It's what's done in between
Which concerns me/
It's never a matter of
had The skill arrived/
It's only ever a matter of
increments in time/
When I implement my mind/
A new form would've been born
An intricate design/
Simplistically simplified
So that I can convert, traverse
and
Converse between you and I/
This is special
Being here for a limited
Of time/
Even if we no longer talk
Your imprints in mine/
Your DNA my design/
Some where they've aligned/
I've created a monster
A modern day Frankenstein/
It's a live!!!
All In any way
Journeys in mind/
When it's all said and done
They would've done said
He put it all on the line/
Got rich and died trying/
Liken to a shrine/
words Etched instilled
And still willing me/
Willingly although
They tried to bewilder me/
But I'm a wil-der beast/
I was raised via the streets/
Taught by scholars/
Millionaires told me I
Could never touch they dollars/
Untold access to knowledge
To create my wealth/
Fitness gurus helped me
Maintain my health/
Motivated or else/
Elsewhere they didn't help/
Ingredients tools
I didn't know
I could just do it myself/
So I started with Less
With every thing left
to gain/
Literary tales
prevail through the firey flames.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
Lay simplistic in my nervous embrace,
though my fingers shake with your purity.
A great, gold-backed moon-palette for a face,
and mind acquiescent simplistically.
Your features, sharp and definite, are free,
and none may mumble a pedantic word
against you; let them talk --- they'll never see
or, blindly, feel what you afford:
a priceless truth beneath a thin veneer.
Incomplex, clear, manageable, and clean;
you, non-idealized and lying near,
are like the timbre of a tambourine.
No more rhapsodizing --- lie slowly down ---
be calm tonight; forget this specious town.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 3:26 AM UTC
I'd paint you a picture
But my image I may not convert
I'd write you a song
But my words can not be learnt
I'd clasp to your words
But they slide away like sand
I'd fall into your hands
But they move away, just a tad
For you and me
Will never quite see
What it is in each other
What we want to be
We're both in a trap
Like the rest of our friends
We need to break free
But only in the end
It's really not hard to see
Once you look at it simplistically
We're all in a trap
Encaged by this world
A sense of self
The impairment of our sight
Is our real plight
What we call "I"
We should really call "us"
It's the blinder to our lives
The captor of our freedom
The separation of each other
Is what makes society shudder
But fear not, dear
It's not but an outgrown husk
At the end of your life
At the end of our years
When unity reappears
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 9:22 PM UTC
Let's create something simple,
yet complex.
Like the iambic pentameter
that made Shakespeare famous,
years later.
Let's create beauty,
in a world where it diminishes with every second,
that passes by.
I wish to be simplistically complex, and beautiful, and am then greeted by the realization,
that it won't happen until it is my belief that it is true,
And if that is the case, I am doomed.
For clocks don't stop and wait for realization.
And mirrors are still believed to crack in my presence.
What a pity.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 3:58 PM UTC
Not that i claimed to have really known u back then
cause even then i had not the slightest clue
but theres still something about u i tend to defend
..that simplistically complex creative beautiful truth
Enigmatic at many times,
but not frighten instead keen
magnetic with my smile
some may even call it incomprehensible obscene
Fraudulent but fragile for i love and hate at once
mellifluously i beg for my own sanity My mind, my heart disputatious ...lacking complete clarity
Still i feel as though i knew me better then in comparison to now awe-inspiring,
and inexplicably My distorted distracted me is wowed
For ive come to realize i know me less today this person ive turned out to be...
nothing short of decay
...Contemptibly delighted to say is me
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 5:58 AM UTC
add a little "yourself" to the scene
with a touch of "those i don't understand!"
walk the "long night" courageously
i'll be there!
he'll be there!
so shall SHE!
and the sacred child beyond death
(and Death itself
and Eternity)
just a gentle sense of "yourself" will do
and the truth
shall be there
Jul 14, 2010
Jul 14, 2010 at 3:56 PM UTC
Its the atmosphere that intoxicates my mind
The people, everyone, going on with their own life,
Some even smile at you,
The breeze that waver through my hair makes me feel invincible
The plain grass I sit on is simplistically beautiful,
The little kids swinging on the monkey bars and laughing make me smile,
They are so young and happy,
So many people, noises everywhere-laughter lingers my ears and it sounds like a symphony
A symphony that has been written by love itself
At this moment, I don't feel depressed or angry,
At this moment I feel bliss, joy, wonder, pleasure and delight,
At this moment I am happy
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
When cold days leave you anchored to your bed what is it to Live
My Grandmothers creased and gregarious eyes radiate Life
Just as the shoots of grass reach to kiss the sky oh so Simplistically
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 2:28 AM UTC
synchronistic wistfulness
as whiskered bliss seekers twist
in the mist - resisting fists
they insist on listing
that which might bring blistering
like a toxic ring – singing telemarketers
embarking journey, Skylark_Buick
truant Mister simplistically playing Twister
sister shifts the syncopate
and we wait
…………………..
grateful for the break and taking
glitter flake covered roller-skates to the frozen lake
mistakenly banking to sharply
frost bitten carp seems
too dark in the evening
like Marky Mark bringing fresh beats
to a Lou Reed jam on the mean streets
neither much enjoying to eat sweets
but seemingly twin-like between the ole bed sheets…….
……………………
spoke out of turn regarding their *** lives
pretty sure at least one of them had a fat wife
who lived off of bonbons and smoked a chipped crack pipe
…………………
unsure how to end I can’t help but still write
and because words do flow I consider this just right
can you guess my favorite whale? Obviously,
the Right
favorite airplane designers
...... also the Wright -
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 3:25 PM UTC
Jiving around this town
with **** curves
and
**** curls
we're moving around the globe
trying to keep up with our flashing lights
looking in mirrors
that never give us feedback
but we are constantly looking-
on a hunt
but I would like to call it an adventure
trying to make it fun
simplistically simple
we are
not what we say we are
but what we do
embrace these flashing lights
I want you to smile so big for the camera
it hurts
I want it to hurt for you to be this happy
it's quite simple
this life
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
This dimension of living is endlessly shrouded in mystery.
We are the midwives to our own platform of living and we have the authority to liquidate it and start upon a new tier at any moment.
I know but only what my eyes have unrobed to show me.
All around us isolated winsome lives of their own fabric and hemming are kerneled into the crust of our worlds existence.
We are so distinctly separate yet intrinsically connected.
We tend to weave our lives in a way to circumvent the albatross that is free-floating and searching for a host.
It is so simple to sector yourself away from the things that pose fluster to your character.
But we infallibly need each other, we must uncloak ourselves from the throttling labels.
Once you make peace with the construction of this world you are unfettered and free.
All of these sumptuous luminescent minds quarantined away serve no good. Live your life with decorum and ease and let this light scintillate to invigorate others. This revolution is not rooted in vociferous speeches and affronts, but by merely emitting your unadulterated authentic self. Excavate yourself of the toxic of society and you will become the voltaic entity.
Make haimish comfort with the idea of uncertainty and live life simplistically.
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
At the beginning
We are lost,
Forced to amble the
Surface until we have
Created something great.
Our feet firmly planted,
No doubts in our minds,
We are not afraid of the
Places we have not
Travelled.
We are content with
What we haven’t seen
Because we
Know
What lies there.
Perhaps,
Though,
We’ll allow our closed minds
To wander to the unknown,
The places unmarked on the
Map,
If only for a moment.
We’ll lift our heads against
The force of our own realities
To finally face what lies above.
We’ll see the vast Abyss
Of lost opportunities
Within the stars.
Our hearts will sink to
Our bowels,
And for once in our
Egocentric lives,
We’ll believe in some
Greater meaning.
We’ll suddenly fall
Simplistically short
Of all fantasies self-held.
We’ll realize
What we gave up
To be who we are.
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 12:36 PM UTC
In a crowd full of sorrowing people, I spotted you.
The soundtrack to the setting.
The calming in the hesitant darkness.
The dimming of the brightly loud tears.
Simplistically, the smile in the midst of hundreds of frowned faces.
I spotted you.
The warmth to my cold and shivered skin.
The drought to the sadness that was festering.
The harmonizing of birds at dawn on a spring morning.
You were life at the funeral.
You looked like the first refreshing sip of coffee when waking.
You stood, so promptly; awaiting mourning and embracing the passing.
You, gave me hope, from fifty feet away.
I couldn’t wait to move closer and feel your aura of beauty.
To partake in the brilliance glowing off your body.
Because when wind caught, and my lungs consumed air that involved your existence, I couldn’t help my steps.
It took me 21 years, but I finally spotted you.
And although I sound foolish, I don’t plan on ever changing my line of sight.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 12:47 PM UTC
The moth in flight, confused
Frantic chasing moonlight.
Rolling grey opaque skies
Devouring perfect blue.
Sulphur dragged friction
Fed fingertips if left to burn
Incredible and misunderstood
A mix of emotions stirred
watercolor water you and I
Simplistically too desperate to get it.
We are... Progress working at times.
Jun 4, 2021
Jun 4, 2021 at 5:26 AM UTC