"sociological" poems
I am lost for words, as I am empathic with the planet.
Although we truly stand in line for death and the afterlife, it is important that we mother our young.
I do not deny the allurement of sociopathic inclinations and I heartily validate the sexuality of suburban expression.
But, we both know – politicians rise like winged beasts from the murky depths of sociological oceans.
Can I touch your skin and give you compliments?
I love your being, just as it is.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
Parental affiliations shroud the perimeters of sociological desperation. Like a gorgeous eye which cries in Gaelic rainstorms. Feel the texture of bracken, as she scrapes her tangible beauty against your pale and excited skin. But hold your breath, my ever-connected member of covenantal being. Do not let go of the tantric touch of spatial awareness.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:59 PM UTC
I feel a grim satisfaction as mud splatters on my white shoes.
What an appropriate metaphor for early adulthood.
My problems are not my own.
The sociological imagination has never
seemed so applicable.
We’ve all been dosed up
On dashes of passion,
splashes of intelligence
and just enough anxiety and depression
to approach existential nihilism and
We’re fed these lies of individuality but
We Know
we are only products of our youth and culture,
ones of many in the long production line
We claim
We are Art,
but We Feel
we’re just generated from streams of code,
prepared to fight to the death for
some algorithm that doesn’t even matter
And so I protest
I can’t just be a number
I am flesh and blood,
my knees are buckling under the
weight of this artificial perfection.
I’m not just a number,
My eyes are staring at the
the marks that
determine my worth, knowing
success is my only option
i am not just a number
My sanity is sinking and
drowning and
constantly fighting to stay afloat
But I am not just a number. -
My mind tells me I’m not making it--
How are these other people making it?
I’m determining my worth
on sets of standards that are as worthy as dust
And it is with these standards i am told
I am just a number.
I feel like
I can no longer speak
because I’ve been
shouting
at the top of my lungs
I AM NOT JUST A NUMBER
But my voice
is too quiet
And the world
is too loud.
I’m so tired of trying to be heard.
Yet these words still sound better
when I scream them,
not just scrawl them down
on scraps of paper.
for someone so happy
I'm so very angry.
for someone so happy
I'm so very sad.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 4:01 PM UTC
We come and go
like the seasons that forever change,
what mystery to know where the road
will take us in a life time.
If remembering our past,
it would indefinitely shape our future.
We are one in human nature
but our nurture sets us apart,
therefore “all men are created equal”,
but what divides us is a broken highway
to the shadowed valley of death.
Fear no evil in what lies ahead
for the future is bright
in mind,heart and soul.
A kingdom is beyond our grasp,
but the depths of our sanity
are determined by a sociological
and psychological point of view.
How would one determine
the preconceived notion of self worth,
all while understanding that is it capable
to lose ourselves in the laws of the world?
Choose not to live for the "structure" of the world,
but live for acknowledgement
that there is a tomorrow
and we are in control.
We will all be admired by
our strength, courage and beliefs,
even if your views differed
from other individuals.
No matter the sin that bestowed us,
these were our core values
amongst faith itself.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 1:00 AM UTC
Steps on the barren desert valley ground,
I'd rather be in the alley.
I'd rather be in the alley with you.
Sun burnt rocks jut out at me,
They shake their fingers at me,
"You'll never get out, it's a dead end from here."
I remember sitting out under the sun,
I remember being under the sun on the roof,
And I remember screaming at the skies,
*" Mathematics has taught me nothing,
School was nothing but sociological lies!"*
I had my verbal reasoning skills,
I had a bottle of Adderall pills,
I had my quantum physical knowledge,
I've been down the road of metaphysics,
I even had foreign language skills.
Italian artistry doesn't help you here, no.
The coyote knows best,
The wildebeast and dachshund know better.
Animal supremacy, no.
Conscious human foreclosure of higher arcane intelligence,
If it ever yielded it's presence,
Jesus would've resurrected already.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 4:27 PM UTC
A series of gestures & looks
hidden between words in our composition books
As we study the opposite situation
We have the right page lifted in anticipation
The story is intriguing to be honest
We hang on to every letter as if written words couldn't lie.
When in fact,they make the lie permanent.
To be truthful, we speak in winks and flutters of the eye.
It is a language we never wanted to learn,
speaking in premonitions.
It frightens us like an unlucky number
A common and uncanny superstition
So we watch happiness from the corner
with an odd sociological perspective.
The trends we notice make us loners.
Lovers without an object of affection.
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 6:31 PM UTC
My living disposition leads me to assert that I am not dead!
Yet, my silence screams ancient transcriptions across geographical contour lines which are considered to be far removed from the metaphorical grid of contemporary societal norms, where the seductions of the vampyre and her haunting dynamics cast their eerie spells within this captivating fishbowl of galloping horses.
The Prince of Wallachia is able to explain.
Let us converse with The Count.
Whenever there is emphasis upon specific detail in this age of certain vanity, I find that, in 1456, I am truly bereft of valedictorian and flamenco odours, because this royal prince of acoustic arrangement has generated a harmonious expression which humbly corrects my intrapersonal assumptions across the mountainous regions of Transylvania.
Conflict resolution is therefore a mere figment of sociological and anthropological constructs, which fornicate with the façade of egocentrism and fabricates vain attempts to maintain social elitism within a blanket of darkness.
How do we find ourselves in the position of being so diametrically opposed to reality?
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 12:47 AM UTC
How can a man awaken a womens love
Then walk away leaving her chained to what was
How does a man make a covenant of love
Then run away and hide
Leaving emotional wreckage at the scene of the crime
Not owning up to the responsibilities
Just wanting the pleasure, and no more if you please
Why can't a man be more circumspect of a womens needs
I am afraid and suspect that he has himself decieved
It's the sociological garbage that he's been fed and believes
A real man must be changed inside
As the Savior (showed man) how He rears His Bride
Keeping a watchful eye from the sky
To look after her every need
To her heavy sighs give heed
On the cross He did bleed.................for her
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 10:50 PM UTC
What is an American?
Is it decided by the timber of our voice,
the strength in our limbs,
the blood in our veins,
or the color of our skin?
Tell me,
for I do not understand,
unfold your thesis,
inundate my mind with statistics,
be it quantum blood measures,
origin or sociological constructs of the creature in question.
Tell me,
what it is to be an American?
This umbrella term,
I just do not understand,
is it to be a thief?
A country founded on stolen land,
and stolen labor,
sage bushed bills,
backed by gilded structures and systems of debate and seizure,
is being an American drowning in leisure?
What does this term mean?
I find myself confused,
it is difficult to quantify the qualitative,
and breath life into lifeless chiseled forms,
found in squares and plazas throughout,
a country split by hard wired ferocity,
quicksand laden dividing lines,
the vocal deciding what it is to be,
and what it isn't.
*Careful lad,
there is such a thing as too much,
too much individuality,
so put up your hair,
put away the paint,
put away that sign,
sheath your weapon,
old boy,
this isn't your fight,
and besides,
what can you do with a toy?*
I don't know what America is,
land of the free,
where is that?
I see only industry,
a dying morality,
drowned in ethics,
a protestant-core built on overt inequality.
What does it mean to be an American?
I can't tell you what it means to you,
only what it means to me,
and so I say dust off the document upon which this term was built,
and realize that the past is not what you should use,
just as anything else of import,
use judgement,
agency,
the ability to choose,
uphold the freedom that suffocates in the back of your mind,
to the flame inside your chest,
to the weakness in your legs,
down against the sole of your shoes.
America is a country founded on rebellion,
a little man,
underdog all grown up,
and now he's the one throwing punches,
a story paralleled by Davidic tales,
and though he may not be perfect,
and is often reviled,
I love him still,
his rough edges,
for we are still part of the experiment,
ongoing,
the American dream.
Though the gates may be weighed down,
the hinges rusted,
a country of sojourners,
soon a country of minorities,
cultural pluralism,
though flawed,
I like it better this way,
a techni-colored mirage of what once was,
and if we must meet our end,
so be it,
guide me home,
for is it not true that all roads eventually wind home?
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
The expectation,
Of you to accept the inhalation,
Of the evaporation,
Of someone else’s waste.
Make it make sense,
How the walls of stalls,
Fail to reach its maximum highs and lows,
For all of us to share what we release.
We listen to the air,
That flubs between *** cheeks,
Just as the **** projects deuces,
Into the bowl that cups the sound of wind.
We hear the moans and sighs,
Of relief, constipation and strain,
As we urinate nearby,
Adjacent to the incomplete **** shack.
Make it make sense,
How tasting the gases,
Of Joe Blow, blowing out his insides,
Is a customary to our community.
A sociological experiment,
Deemed to generate sociopathy,
As we laugh at the flatulence,
And giggle at one’s vulnerability.
Merely a forgotten fact,
That we have been there too,
We go there every day,
And pretend that others don’t do the same.
And without a mere act of courtesy,
The space is left filthier than the last,
Because why be considerate for the next?
Someone’s job is to cleanse my waste.
Furthermore is the neglect,
Of faucets, soap and towels,
Aimed to **** bacteria,
That exits biological passageways.
Why oh why,
Must I be forced to study,
Why this is simply unacceptable,
This concept of oversharing?
Recurring stage fright,
Readily apparent,
When forced to **** beside men,
More than double my size.
I’ll simply never understand,
How by design,
What we wouldn’t do in front of house guests,
Is something we are urged to do in front of strangers.
Bonding,
With a bunch of hairy, overweight men,
Who clear their throats, bladders and colons,
In my personal space.
Nov 13, 2023
Nov 13, 2023 at 9:41 PM UTC
When I place my heart
in hell,
I place it in your frying pan.
When we ****
I see the listlessness in your eyes,
and I'm not hurt,
because at least you're there,
and you're letting me enter
you
for
a
moment.
At least your letting me be a part of you,
and that's what I think *** is,
more than an entering of the body,
it's an entering of the soul.
So when I push my *****
I push
my hopes
my regrets
my hurtfulness
and my
psycho-sociological
********
Can you take me,
because I'm crazy
and I've got a few ****** up
idiosyncracies.
So when I catch
this love **** quick,
it's on a whole 'nother tip.
I might just fall in love,
and Natalie might come calling
again,
so don't be hurt
when I resume with her
and I chase every single girl
I could have loved
into the distance.
Don't be hurt,
because
misguidedly,
I think I'm meant to be with her.
Apr 21, 2012
Apr 21, 2012 at 8:58 PM UTC
On a Sunday it was dark; girls infatuated with attention
Consuming on facebook uploads, and hashtags that have no explanation for your comprehension
I stand alone in a world, a total suspension
From the societies of fake likes and relationships and self pent up tension
I had faith in you, but your beliefs are not worthy of my mention
For the things you lived for, the mundane delusions that causes your detention
For you are detained in your self- created stress and your feverous passion that is derived by convention
You are stuck in a world not yours, and once I tried to liberate you from it you couldn't stop clinging and clench'n
To your false priorities and you call this a life… you call yourself living when your hollow ego and pride has out shadowed your repention
And sin became a right, and good became a privilege, all this in the world craving attention…
Souls like me are buried, embodied by peace we have with our existing forms
Free thinkers; attached to our beliefs and religious rituals yet deviated from your filthy sociological norms
And values we have created and you chose to forget
And destinies we work to change, yet your destinies are set
For sheep follow each other into circles of indecorous confusion
And every one of you follows what he thinks is fun, or cool or the trendy illusion
We have reached a time when we follow people, not thoughts, material not ideas and we demand respect
How could I respect clones? For their values become lower than that of an insect...
I trusted you were different, but I grew beyond that thought and realized you're the same
You just yearn for the spotlight, live on opinions, and follow your low life leaders into a path of misleading fame…
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 7:38 PM UTC
Three decades
Lost in this maze
Of dirt road
Clay and grated soil
Underneath
Grandpa's Oaks
Branches hang over us
Like the arms of Ghosts
The unknown parts in between
The cities and towns
With names not large enough to
Fit on maps
Another microcosm
Of sociological problems
The constant chaos of
Lives crashing into each other
At speeds history
Has never
Seen
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
Throughout history, huge achievements have happened.
Shakespeare articulated emotion, tugging on the heartstrings of many.
Darwin developed the idea of adapting to outside stimuli.
The Wright Brothers taught us how to fly, Neil and Buzz walked on the moon.
We've seen people capable of
love,
evolving,
teaching others to fly,
technological advances.
Yet, not love for people who are different.
Yet, an inability to evolve to someone who isn't the same.
Yet, people are locking each other in cages, clipping their wings.
Yet, sociological advances grind to a screeching halt.
The human race is truly amazing, and has done some incredible things.
But let's not let past glory make us complacent and content with where we are.
We have a long way to go.
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 12:51 AM UTC
This ceremonial façade is likened to an ancient folklore which has been dipped in forbidden secretions, even though my arts are sincerely darkened to unfathomable depths of surprised and ambidextrous naiveté.
I have constructed the choreography of this metaphysical dance, which lingers on the brink of sociological pronunciations, and where the liberty of gargoyles spew their fluid projections from lofty heights across the four directions of our moralistic city walls, where magnetised needles ***** my soul with the earth-shattering clarification of true north.
I love to sit in the dark and to be enlightened, as the eerie silence bellows her validity across trans-national sanctions, where the fallacy of liberation is juxtaposed with a socio-political and fetishistic confinement.
I believe that classical infidelity is like a beautiful Gothic cathedral where silent rage has an ebb and flow which is not easily ascertained amongst our sub-cultural and contemporary cohorts, where dynamic equilibrium truly encapsulates the co-existence of opposites, which are said to attract.
So, as we gather in the menacing serenity of the dark forests, where geography marks her ancient alignments from sunrise to sunset; can we now pray and give homage to the spirits of history, in this underground finesse of paradoxical equilibrium?
I love democracy, as she gyrates her sensual community wantonness on this conveyer belt, where the vital functions of our organism slink into sleepy cessations of universal structures where causality releases her excitatory expressions of organic physiology.
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 3:05 AM UTC
"What drives you?"
Seems like a simple question,
but as I stare down at my blank paper,
the assignment was supposed to
just be a one-page thing,
not some disgustingly deep
sociological self reflection
that makes you re-evaluate
every decision you've ever made.
How can one hope to answer all that drives you
in a single paper?
As if that is remotely possible.
But the thing that scares me most about this,
is that I'm not sure I have anything that drives me at all anymore.
Struggling with motivation for as long as I can remember,
where external factors just weren't existent.
Internally persevering was not only optional,
it was necessary.
But what happens when
that little voice in your head
that got you through
torment after torment,
trauma after trauma
tragedy after tragedy,
when no one else was there,
suddenly shuts off,
and is replaced by a new one.
One that never shuts off.
One that drowns out anything and everything else.
One that is sick of the pain.
One that just can't take it anymore.
One that can take a simple little question,
and turn everything topsy-turvy.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 2:43 AM UTC
I, the humble poet,
who counsels anonymously,
is cursed with complexity:
seeking endlessly
for structured simplicity,
trekking tirelessly
through modern mediocrity,
and examining closely
at psychological obscurity
and sociological hypocrisy---
aiming to teach attentively
to those who read closely.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 11:56 PM UTC
A million monarchs lie dead, though,
No less sociological programming of
Upper-middle to rich classes with
Decadence, affluence, inclusion, is.
No less societal determination of
Middle to lower, being excluded by
Division and conquering, privation.
Yet, they, on wing no more, still fly
In our spirit's eye, heal humanities' heart.
While their silent cry echoes
The 33,000 species extinct each year,
A rate not seen since the last ice age
Ensued; does it move you?
Does your curiosity ask why?
Will you, on this 33rd Earth Day, allow
A tear for all life's fallen? Consider
The losses economic apartheid incurs,
Mirrored by the divide humancentricity
Has levied? Our underlying duplicitous
Disregard for life, greed and oil fueled,
Won't abate for our existence, will you?
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 5:07 PM UTC
Soon the lie will no longer be profitable and the evil elite won’t be able to hide the extreme environmental changes and chaotic sociological behavior manifestations. When it’s obvious to everyone that things are getting worse, because infrastructure and entire areas of real estate are not being repaired, know that the false powers at be understand there is no need to fix them, because more damage is on the way.
This summer, right now, and getting worse every day, food rationing is increasing because our food chains are being altered with GMO and infected purposely with deadly viruses. This summer, right now, and getting worse every day, water restrictions are extending into more areas because our weather system is a mess, they have ******* with it so much it’s now effecting our vital resources. When our basic needs to sustain life start being taken away from us, the game is over.
Take note, are you profitable to the planetary system being put in place? Do you go along with what the government tells you to do, and how to think? Do you question? Do you support vaccines, same *** marriage, one world religion, one world government etc. etc? If you are not on board with the one world thought that is about to be massively unveiled, when the re-boot starts your purpose will evolve into soylent green (food for other humans-cannibalism).
Once it is obvious, that the bulk of humanity will no longer be profitable via work force labor (because labor is becoming mechanized using robotics) in any form, guess what? You’ll be used for slave support yielding Food, and a section of humanity that is remaining will be harvested. Everyone is familiar with the term hell on earth, well this term was created for this time, and everyone is gonna have seat at this picture show, everyone.
Repent and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth. Pray for your family, friends, neighbors and countrymen.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 1:53 PM UTC
The job market is a farce,
and for the poor, money is always sparse.
No longer a child, I have to stop kidding myself -
now a dad I have to pass on Santa and elves,
the tooth fairy, and the economy,
a lineage, and a history.
I've been a ******* in more ways than one,
America's sociological experiment of a son,
whose dream wasn't tied to a flag,
a political party, nor ****
But I understand it takes strife to fulfill life,
an ingredient in the recipe that creates might.
El sueño Americano es el mismo Chicano,
sueño Colombiano, Asiático, y Africano.
Ain't no difference when it's all a Google search away
and the world works to pay a debt it never owed.
Be free, baby, but before you do -
you gotta figure out what that means to you.
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 3:18 AM UTC
i forget sometimes
that i have nothing to prove to you
nevertheless i catch myself trying
maybe i should set random reminders
on my phone
that help me remember
that you don't matter
how many times do i have to be reminded?
parasites like you
try and feed off girls with a little meat on their bones
and maybe that's why you didn't stay
i don't have enough meat to satiate your hunger
i've got enough to feed off of for a little
but you're not a very intimidating parasite
you just got under my skin
maybe i'm a narcissist
and i just want everyone to love me
or maybe i'm stupid
and i was hoping that somebody would be you
because you didn't appear to be a parasite
i was hoping for a symbiotic relationship
there was no chemistry there
my hypothesis was a bust
and that's not an experiment that i would like to replicate
i got the science all wrong
in sociology we're learning how to ask better "sociological questions"
they're not supposed to focus on the individual
so maybe i'd ask
"What in our culture makes it seem socially acceptable for males to be complete tools to their female counterparts?"
oh but in English we're learning how to argue
my claim would be: I think he's an *******
and then what would follow are
reasons
grounds
warrant
and backing
all of which i have against you
college has taught me valuable things
like it's not society's fault you're a *****
you just are.
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 3:34 AM UTC