"soren" poems - Hello Poetry

the greateast lie of all is feeling of firmness beneath our feet we are at our most honest when we are lost - soren kierkegaard think about people managing running this city state country how do they do it trouble managing myself today 3/19/10 eating alone at cantonese restaurant suddenly felt nauseous sick rushed to cashier paid drove hurried home feeling need to go maybe ***** ran upstairs pooped exhausted lied down sick anxiety attack could not breathe opened windows fetus position all in my head imagined hours later feel fine think about women how beautiful they are menstraution pregnancy giving birth menapause subjugation abuse stress am i pretty enough good enough property commodity find provider daunting pressures they bear tearing while typing think about my mom turning 90 alone trudging heavy purse think about children of the future so much weight on their shoulders so much dysfunction disarity how will they manage run reach their dreams think about myself so scared desperate about tomorrow future i have no money property belonging this world is tough with great sadness want to hear joke what do you call fish with no eyes fssshh not very funny

0

Mar 19, 2010

Mar 19, 2010 at 6:39 PM UTC

michael-reid-rubenstein

enter the ragman

the greateast lie of all is feeling of firmness beneath our feet we are at our most honest when we are lost - soren kierkegaard think about people managing running this city state country how do they do it trouble managing myself today 3/19/10 eating alone at cantonese restaurant suddenly felt nauseous sick rushed to cashier paid drove hurried home feeling need to go maybe ***** ran upstairs pooped exhausted lied down sick anxiety attack could not breathe opened windows fetus position all in my head imagined hours later feel fine think about women how beautiful they are menstraution pregnancy giving birth menapause subjugation abuse stress am i pretty enough good enough property commodity find provider daunting pressures they bear tearing while typing think about my mom turning 90 alone trudging heavy purse think about children of the future so much weight on their shoulders so much dysfunction disarity how will they manage run reach their dreams think about myself so scared desperate about tomorrow future i have no money property belonging this world is tough with great sadness want to hear joke what do you call fish with no eyes fssshh not very funny

2

Sometimes I wonder am I more saint or sinner Is it self-preservation or selfish and me-centered? And how, how can I know when Your voice feels so far off? Am I saint or sinner self-preserving or self-centered? Your voice isn't sounding all I hear is silence And I beg, I plead, Lord, am I a saint or a sinner? Sometimes I can't breathe my soul suffocating in questions without answers What do you see, in me? Saint or a sinner? Do I delight or disappoint, You and others with this life I'm trying to live? Questions begging answers can't rest until they're found Saint or sinner, self-preserving or self-centered? "God creates out of nothing. Wonderful you say. Yes, to be sure, but he does what is still more wonderful: He makes saints out of sinners." ― The Journals of Soren Kierkegaard

0

Sep 24, 2014

Sep 24, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC

katy-owens

Untitled

Sometimes I wonder am I more saint or sinner Is it self-preservation or selfish and me-centered? And how, how can I know when Your voice feels so far off? Am I saint or sinner self-preserving or self-centered? Your voice isn't sounding all I hear is silence And I beg, I plead, Lord, am I a saint or a sinner? Sometimes I can't breathe my soul suffocating in questions without answers What do you see, in me? Saint or a sinner? Do I delight or disappoint, You and others with this life I'm trying to live? Questions begging answers can't rest until they're found Saint or sinner, self-preserving or self-centered? "God creates out of nothing. Wonderful you say. Yes, to be sure, but he does what is still more wonderful: He makes saints out of sinners." ― The Journals of Soren Kierkegaard

44

Its been 5 years since we saw a drone crash land here on Earth. It then seem to come to life and examine our Plant to see if it was suitable to live on.. Today we are receiving the same type of signal from an object on course to the same exact spot the Star drone crash landed.. We wait! This drone seems smaller in size than the one that crash landed here 5 years ago.. The entire world watched and listened.. It then sent out a radio signal in all languages.. It said this! :::::People of the Planet Earth which is known as ( Soren 12 ) to us.. I would like to thank you for the use of your planet in composing a above average score for my intergalactic project.. I received a score of 495 out of 500! I got points taken off because of a small program mistake where my drone picked up an enormous amount of your ocean water and dumped it in the return dock.. Your planet is very beautiful! Even more beautiful than ours.. I am in the works of becoming a Star driver.. In order to do so I must be able to find life among the stars in case I ever have to transfer myself or others in the worst case scenarios.. I may visit one day.. Thank you!!! Lase Llr Laasa: Intergalactic school of arts

0

Apr 14, 2015

Apr 14, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC

solaces

Drone 2 The arrival

Its been 5 years since we saw a drone crash land here on Earth. It then seem to come to life and examine our Plant to see if it was suitable to live on.. Today we are receiving the same type of signal from an object on course to the same exact spot the Star drone crash landed.. We wait! This drone seems smaller in size than the one that crash landed here 5 years ago.. The entire world watched and listened.. It then sent out a radio signal in all languages.. It said this! :::::People of the Planet Earth which is known as ( Soren 12 ) to us.. I would like to thank you for the use of your planet in composing a above average score for my intergalactic project.. I received a score of 495 out of 500! I got points taken off because of a small program mistake where my drone picked up an enormous amount of your ocean water and dumped it in the return dock.. Your planet is very beautiful! Even more beautiful than ours.. I am in the works of becoming a Star driver.. In order to do so I must be able to find life among the stars in case I ever have to transfer myself or others in the worst case scenarios.. I may visit one day.. Thank you!!! Lase Llr Laasa: Intergalactic school of arts

4

The Planet Earth was a wasteland of destruction from the race that lived there previously.. Seven Life Lancers were sent from Mars over 1000 years ago to clean and repair Earth's eco system. We lost contact with the Life Lancers 52 years ago but were very hopeful as Earth has once again turned blue in our night sky.. A once dead planet of sand has gained back its majestic color of ocean azure blue alongside the stars.. I am sad that Mars has become dead and we had no solution to solve the destruction of our planet.. I had been chosen by our people to migrate to Earth and start our race there.. I am unknown to how well the Life Lancers fixed the eco system of Earth and if it will be able to sustain life.. Its when I arrive I finally see how Magnificent it was! More blue than the Mars ocean Soren.. There is a massive piece of land I can land on. Seems this is the only land that exist here on Earth.. I will call this land Pangaea..

0

Sep 3, 2015

Sep 3, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC

solaces

When I arrive

The Planet Earth was a wasteland of destruction from the race that lived there previously.. Seven Life Lancers were sent from Mars over 1000 years ago to clean and repair Earth's eco system. We lost contact with the Life Lancers 52 years ago but were very hopeful as Earth has once again turned blue in our night sky.. A once dead planet of sand has gained back its majestic color of ocean azure blue alongside the stars.. I am sad that Mars has become dead and we had no solution to solve the destruction of our planet.. I had been chosen by our people to migrate to Earth and start our race there.. I am unknown to how well the Life Lancers fixed the eco system of Earth and if it will be able to sustain life.. Its when I arrive I finally see how Magnificent it was! More blue than the Mars ocean Soren.. There is a massive piece of land I can land on. Seems this is the only land that exist here on Earth.. I will call this land Pangaea..

12

#the forming of substance 03 Stephan W (fallen from grace) ~ *"I have just come back from a party where I was the life and soul. Witticisms flowed from my lips. Everyone laughed and admired me— but, I left, yes.. that dash should be as long as the radii of the earth's orbit ——— and wanted to shoot myself."* ~Soren Kierkegaard ~ ~ *It is not enough... It is never enough-- we need too much But, here on earth we have to make it work so we call good-enough, "good enough" and with gratitude, we learn to take in what it's available to us. But the truth behind it all remains-- the fact that we need so much; Where is one that is complete.. and if so, complete-- compared to what? There is a perfection- cloud-hidden within everything that is human The spirit within the body that carries it-- b r e a t h e s out perfection's truth, though- we may only experience it in the moments between awake and asleep- the human psyche is bent on survival-- and in a broken world, the thought of an inherent perfection brings on too much-- our own condemnation even. In our minds we fall too short of even the concept of it. Or do we? The gravitational pull towards Muse borderlines on that of addiction; its stirrings touch what is primal in us-- once-inexpressible words, suddenly find expression; And a Beethoven finds musical notes that lead to a symphonic masterpiece. "Words from Heaven" is not saying too much concerning the poet, or lyricist. "Music from Heaven" is easier to say, when concerning a Mozart or Beethoven. Or a Tchaikovsky. Perfect reaching into the imperfect? How about 'imperfect'- feeling, and then expressing pieces of its own long-forgotten perfection-- things experienced within the sphere- made tangible again through the flesh, simply in a moment of remembering.. and also that of a temporary forgetting-- of limitation. The beauty of despair is in the heartbreak of finding out that what is right in front of us is never truly enough or worse yet-- possibly even harmful to our own true needs. What we need most is all and everything that helps us remember-- That we came from perfection, and were loved there first, and now, within the imperfect- are unable to be denied by the perfect that is forever inherent in us-- It is completely unable to deny that which is of its own. If we were to never despair over what is in front of us, we might never be compelled to find the strength to remember- flashes of the primal-- that of our own history, of perfection. And if there ever were ever an evil, or a Darkness- it would be hell-bent on keeping us from finding that very thing. Sometimes.. just sometimes, death looks just like love.* #

0

Sep 27, 2020

Sep 27, 2020 at 8:29 PM UTC

preston

a beautiful kind of despair

#the forming of substance 03 Stephan W (fallen from grace) ~ *"I have just come back from a party where I was the life and soul. Witticisms flowed from my lips. Everyone laughed and admired me— but, I left, yes.. that dash should be as long as the radii of the earth's orbit ——— and wanted to shoot myself."* ~Soren Kierkegaard ~ ~ *It is not enough... It is never enough-- we need too much But, here on earth we have to make it work so we call good-enough, "good enough" and with gratitude, we learn to take in what it's available to us. But the truth behind it all remains-- the fact that we need so much; Where is one that is complete.. and if so, complete-- compared to what? There is a perfection- cloud-hidden within everything that is human The spirit within the body that carries it-- b r e a t h e s out perfection's truth, though- we may only experience it in the moments between awake and asleep- the human psyche is bent on survival-- and in a broken world, the thought of an inherent perfection brings on too much-- our own condemnation even. In our minds we fall too short of even the concept of it. Or do we? The gravitational pull towards Muse borderlines on that of addiction; its stirrings touch what is primal in us-- once-inexpressible words, suddenly find expression; And a Beethoven finds musical notes that lead to a symphonic masterpiece. "Words from Heaven" is not saying too much concerning the poet, or lyricist. "Music from Heaven" is easier to say, when concerning a Mozart or Beethoven. Or a Tchaikovsky. Perfect reaching into the imperfect? How about 'imperfect'- feeling, and then expressing pieces of its own long-forgotten perfection-- things experienced within the sphere- made tangible again through the flesh, simply in a moment of remembering.. and also that of a temporary forgetting-- of limitation. The beauty of despair is in the heartbreak of finding out that what is right in front of us is never truly enough or worse yet-- possibly even harmful to our own true needs. What we need most is all and everything that helps us remember-- That we came from perfection, and were loved there first, and now, within the imperfect- are unable to be denied by the perfect that is forever inherent in us-- It is completely unable to deny that which is of its own. If we were to never despair over what is in front of us, we might never be compelled to find the strength to remember- flashes of the primal-- that of our own history, of perfection. And if there ever were ever an evil, or a Darkness- it would be hell-bent on keeping us from finding that very thing. Sometimes.. just sometimes, death looks just like love.* #

86

Dear Soren Kierkegaard Your writings pierce my soul Hereditary sin And I love rock n' roll Went to Copenhagen once Asked them about you They gave me a tourist map Graveyards for to view I hope you and Regine Olsen Are together in eternity I keep reading you Say a prayer for me Thanks.

0

May 5, 2021

May 5, 2021 at 6:51 AM UTC

myqualyxians

Dear Soren.

Dear Soren Kierkegaard Your writings pierce my soul Hereditary sin And I love rock n' roll Went to Copenhagen once Asked them about you They gave me a tourist map Graveyards for to view I hope you and Regine Olsen Are together in eternity I keep reading you Say a prayer for me Thanks.

13

as the air slithers thru my barely-opened window, and the lisdexamphetamine begins its pulsing thru my veins, I think of my abrogation of poetry for manic intellectual pursuit at the highest academic degree. The pace of an angry, deletrious, passionate mad gift of insanity that will always leave me with un-relieved pressure in the mind, migrated to the solar plexus, where it builds and builds and builds until the steam must exit lest I explode in the trapped heat and experience a heat-death perhaps not unlike that predicted for our universe, billions of years from now. And I asked myself a question I recognize someone has already asked and answered for me. "What is a poet?" Hello? I asked, "What is a poet?" Soren Kierkegaard glances up from his study in the office I've established for him in my mind. He repeats the question for clarification, and declares: “What is a poet? An unhappy man who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and cry pass through them, it sounds like lovely music.... And people flock around the poet and say: 'Sing again soon' - that is, 'May new sufferings torment your soul but your lips be fashioned as before, for the cry would only frighten us, but the music, that is blissful.”

0

Jul 28, 2017

Jul 28, 2017 at 3:03 PM UTC

softcomponent

"what is a poet?"

as the air slithers thru my barely-opened window, and the lisdexamphetamine begins its pulsing thru my veins, I think of my abrogation of poetry for manic intellectual pursuit at the highest academic degree. The pace of an angry, deletrious, passionate mad gift of insanity that will always leave me with un-relieved pressure in the mind, migrated to the solar plexus, where it builds and builds and builds until the steam must exit lest I explode in the trapped heat and experience a heat-death perhaps not unlike that predicted for our universe, billions of years from now. And I asked myself a question I recognize someone has already asked and answered for me. "What is a poet?" Hello? I asked, "What is a poet?" Soren Kierkegaard glances up from his study in the office I've established for him in my mind. He repeats the question for clarification, and declares: “What is a poet? An unhappy man who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose lips are so formed that when the sigh and cry pass through them, it sounds like lovely music.... And people flock around the poet and say: 'Sing again soon' - that is, 'May new sufferings torment your soul but your lips be fashioned as before, for the cry would only frighten us, but the music, that is blissful.”

20

i brought my Fear and Trembling to the hills i don't want to think of the stacking bills those trivial things no longer give me the thrills or the quiet love that slowly kills “...why bother remembering a past that cannot be made into a present?” that line had me bent all the things i thought i could mend why must i fall towards the deep end i must reflect upon what is past but life must be lived forward...;

0

Oct 18, 2019

Oct 18, 2019 at 7:56 AM UTC

platformthree

Soren and sorrow

i brought my Fear and Trembling to the hills i don't want to think of the stacking bills those trivial things no longer give me the thrills or the quiet love that slowly kills “...why bother remembering a past that cannot be made into a present?” that line had me bent all the things i thought i could mend why must i fall towards the deep end i must reflect upon what is past but life must be lived forward...;

10

I can see connections But I often can't explain It's not only in my mind But it is bipolar brain St. Bruno the Carthusian Stephen King in Maine Silent Daoist hermits The Man of La Mancha, Spain Wendy in the silence Mad but not insane My postcards to Alex Ride the Tucson Train Soren Kierkegaard Melancholy Dane Help me reach the single one Miles Morales y Lois Lane I am a window pane.

0

Oct 12, 2021

Oct 12, 2021 at 12:44 PM UTC

myqualyxians

Please look.

I can see connections But I often can't explain It's not only in my mind But it is bipolar brain St. Bruno the Carthusian Stephen King in Maine Silent Daoist hermits The Man of La Mancha, Spain Wendy in the silence Mad but not insane My postcards to Alex Ride the Tucson Train Soren Kierkegaard Melancholy Dane Help me reach the single one Miles Morales y Lois Lane I am a window pane.

17

Notice my play on words?! (sonnet #MMMMMMMDCLIX) Roll Soren Kierkegaard (nor dare exhale As if the mention culls a sheer suspense) Across your tongue, and spell "philospher" thence Out slowly, to learn we were taught lies they'll Assure us was for good, to countervail His wisdom, whiles you're piqued for aught intents Upon that note: "they" would acknowledge, sense Demanded it? But hide what might avail. I know "they" swore that Shelley was in poor Scuse mad. And now find Kierkegaard was too?! Yet Bysshe had keener sense than all as twere, Which I learn Soren did as well? and who "They" classed as what, eh, for all that?! Go stir The burning coals, for ashes whisper 'new. 21Jan19c

0

Feb 10, 2019

Feb 10, 2019 at 6:23 PM UTC

JennyGordon

Here, Have A Danish Oer Strong Coffee...

Notice my play on words?! (sonnet #MMMMMMMDCLIX) Roll Soren Kierkegaard (nor dare exhale As if the mention culls a sheer suspense) Across your tongue, and spell "philospher" thence Out slowly, to learn we were taught lies they'll Assure us was for good, to countervail His wisdom, whiles you're piqued for aught intents Upon that note: "they" would acknowledge, sense Demanded it? But hide what might avail. I know "they" swore that Shelley was in poor Scuse mad. And now find Kierkegaard was too?! Yet Bysshe had keener sense than all as twere, Which I learn Soren did as well? and who "They" classed as what, eh, for all that?! Go stir The burning coals, for ashes whisper 'new. 21Jan19c

17

Soren, Sharp teeth, bloodshot eyes,merciless hisses and punches at those who annoys you and those who doesn't. I wonder what made you into this callous, mutilated goliath . I wonder who broke you. I can sense a hint of tenderness between your teeth when you think of something. Tell me. Let me shape you into something more you. Chaya, I heart your cream-like smile but I know you're screaming inside. It's not your obligation to be nice and fluid all the time, here, step across the line. Juno, Monday mornings, whatever mornings, you're always collapsing in the streets, neon lights RINGING and WHEEZING behind your eyes. I know you dream of death, dream of halcyon days. But it's time to quit hard candies and soft acid, it's time to quit the things that could poison you. You're supposed to be Lily, not Lilith.

0

Sep 15, 2016

Sep 15, 2016 at 8:41 PM UTC

junovre

Names And Blood Gush and Many More.

Soren, Sharp teeth, bloodshot eyes,merciless hisses and punches at those who annoys you and those who doesn't. I wonder what made you into this callous, mutilated goliath . I wonder who broke you. I can sense a hint of tenderness between your teeth when you think of something. Tell me. Let me shape you into something more you. Chaya, I heart your cream-like smile but I know you're screaming inside. It's not your obligation to be nice and fluid all the time, here, step across the line. Juno, Monday mornings, whatever mornings, you're always collapsing in the streets, neon lights RINGING and WHEEZING behind your eyes. I know you dream of death, dream of halcyon days. But it's time to quit hard candies and soft acid, it's time to quit the things that could poison you. You're supposed to be Lily, not Lilith.

6