"subjectivity" poems
Tar-dark world. The defining color is black, the inky night of her nocturnal hunts and the deep, bottomless dark of her alien retreat.
A watcher of men, she is everything and nothing. She might be too much of something, or too little of something else. Time will sort out the particulars.
There are no simple entry points – she demands engagement, and to be taken as a whole. Her discomfort is over her own allure, her undisturbed surface. It’s more about intuition and gesture than dialogue. They remain as echoes. They’ve made her beautiful in a real way, with hips and blemishes and dimples in her skin.
The imprint of the lives she begins to grapple with as her time on Earth extends, leads her to stop seeing herself as a mere conduit for her mission, and to start developing a sense of subjectivity.
Her life force is overlapping, shaping itself into a pattern of rings that simultaneously suggests a birth canal dilating, the stages of a rocket separating, and a lunar eclipse as seen through a telescope’s lens.
She's a life-form you can’t quite understand, but it’s carrying on relentlessly, like a beehive, moving backward through the constellations at first approach.
Feb 23, 2025
Feb 23, 2025 at 2:06 PM UTC
*True eternal Greatness
Springs
From a fountain
Of abject humility.*
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 6:06 AM UTC
An abstract of an academic paper written by a doctoral student: "In this semimanifesto, I approach how understandings of quantum physics and cyborgian bodies can (or always already do) ally with feminist anti-oppression practices long in use. The idea of the body (whether biological, social, or of work) is not stagnant, and new materialist feminisms help to recognize how multiple phenomena work together to behave in what can become legible at any given moment as a body. By utilizing the materiality of conceptions about connectivity often thought to be merely theoretical, by taking a critical look at the noncentralized and multiple movements of quantum physics, and by dehierarchizing the necessity of linear bodies through time, it becomes possible to reconfigure structures of value, longevity, and subjectivity in ways explicitly aligned with anti-oppression practices and identity politics. Combining intersectionality and quantum physics can provide for differing perspectives on organizing practices long used by marginalized people, for enabling apparatuses that allow for new possibilities of safer spaces, and for practices of accountability."--an abstract of a paper by doctoral student Whitney Stark
Atomic particles, how can it be so
that your purpose is not just to flow
in and out of existence, building reality--
the stars, cosmic gas and galaxies--
but to “ally” with groups of humans fighting “hierarchies”
and demanding “safe spaces”
(even though their entire race is
at the top of their planet’s food chain).
In this mysterious universe there is no safety,
accountability or identity,
only elements, and energy.
Brief combinations make life
legible for a nanosecond in cosmic time, and doomed to strife.
Biology does not know oppression,
only generation, reproduction,
until our growth chokes us and we fall
like so many of our ancestors, who lived and died
on this blue-green ball.
And one day the sun will explode and blow
even our atoms, which have endured (despite oppression),
and the particles will go far until maybe they sow
new life, in bodies unfamiliar, on planets unknown.
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 9:31 AM UTC
childhoods are forgotten
mere bonds simply left to rot
bewildered and betrothed to the very idea
of a more golden sun
and glistening moon
but not all the planets in the solar system are close
and are in fact very far away
words are to mean nothing
nothing
left with the wind
blown away
good bye! adieu!
I shall miss my friend!
and where is the blossom
whom I met so long ago
on Mars
on Jupiter
the promiscuity of proximity
reminiscing
within the shallow walls of the cave
that drips drips drips
to the past
and history becomes bloated
with subjectivity and
a sepia undertone
so how can we see what went wrong?
how can we learn the implications of each movement
made by our lips
fingers
each deep breath
that coincides with the galaxy
underneath a waning moon
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 8:22 PM UTC
The real subjectivity of life is overwhelming;
Prospective consumes our frontal cortex
But there is no escape from this vacuum seal.
We see the faces of our own delight,
The know how of the here and now,
But we are too blind to look past our own perspectives.
Even when we fathom the hearts of others,
Our understandings are predisposed to our own Identity.
Objectivity is a fleeting notion of reality, of truth
and its as though the ground we hold so dearly
Is constantly fleeing from our grasp.
Today we call this individualism,
a disconnect between one's self and society.
But I so selfishly and foolishly believe
that this chasm stems from being lied to so often.
Am I lying to myself or am I being lied to I do no know,
but it is important to understand that it does not matter
that nothing matters, because everything exists in my field of view.
The only question remains: am I correct
Or has the devil made me a fool?
But this does not confirm nihilism
only hints at its initial potential.
Yet there are common truths that are irrefutable
no matter who you are, real or not:
The reality is the here and now,
No matter what ghosts or demons there may be.
They affect the consciousness constantly
indifferently to whether or not they are fraudulent or true.
And my experiences are true, the emotions are radical,
and even if everyone I know is a figment and interpretation,
they still hold a grasp onto my withering heart.
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 1:28 PM UTC
I'm not special
I'm just one out of seven billion
And we're all interconnected
So why am I the only one driving down this road?
You don't have my address
Or my wifi password
Have you found the bat in your gazebo?
I found mine
And named him Bruce
The leaves that fall on my vehicle
Touch no other's
And the rain that pours onto me
Soaks into my skin
It becomes a part of me
That sets me apart
Subjectivity solidifies separation
Like Saturn's rings
A planetary population of particles
That create something beautiful together
Our species is special
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 9:22 AM UTC
objectification is very much a cul de sac,
it's a one way street...
to objectify is to
allow an animate object a
confirmation of an all-pervasive control...
objectification =
the inability of an object to become
a self-serving subject -
no hammer ever managed
to self-serve itself into a role of a screwdriver...
to be objectified is to have no
self-serving subject, i.e. a self;
how can a woman ever be "objectified"
when she subjects herself to both
the object (that's her body) and
the subject (that's her mind) -
or, objects to the object stated -
whereby by "objectification" there's
a reinforcement of being subject to the object...
her body, which reinforces her
subjectivity -
when man is prone to objectification,
as pronouncing his extended members,
a woman is prone to subjection -
irony on the ob- prefix,
wasn't it ever reverse infatuation?
sure, not all the subplots appear
in being "objectified" -
but at least being "objectified"
does not equate to being subject to a man's
will...
if you can't deal with
the "extremes": is being "objectified" as bad
as being subject to a niqab?!
besides the point,
i can't believe that one animate thing can
make another animate thing objectified -
in the purest sense of:
deeming an animate thing
inanimate to be: a thing observed
without a self-serving self-aware ******
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 8:59 PM UTC
#
*The finest meaning of 'Wholeness'..
Is shown most fully within the intertwining
in to the pivotally and most necessary
healing of both body and mind..
In that
the perfect expression of Spirit here on Earth
can only happen through the physical--
You "feel" the Receptives and/or the Urgings
from deep within you (your flesh wrapped spirit),
That are only brought out into the light of day (made known)
the moment your very tangible fingers touch the keyboard..
Or up close..
the tangibly-heard sound your very voice-tones,
Created by your so very tangible vocal cords-- made unique
by how deeply infused your spirit is into that
beautiful mind and body of yours..
By your ever-renewed
and continual choice to heal.
Within that beautiful union, the Sensings and Respondings
of the body bring impulses into the spirit..
touching deeper, the Core--
The "Image" of Perfect, Absolute Being
placed deeply into each and every one of us..
by the very nature of Love's Ache--
Residing within the center of this Universe..
(and all other Universes).. both known..
and those also yet to be..
..An Image placed, as to be a Plumb-line,
and also a Never-ending Cinematic placement of the View
onto (and within) the inner-wall linings
of both mind and spirit..
..Seen in greater and greater "less dimly-lit" degrees,
based solely on how far we commit ourselves along,
and in to, the healing process.
In its finest form, through healing,
the things we take in.. through feeling;
and then express back out..
from both mind, and body's untethered Unfolding,
..Becomes closer and closer
to the very Expression of God's own heart,
..Therefore smashing through, and gorgeously undoing
the ever- quenching.. ever-diluting nature of Subjectivity, itself.
Hmm..
The "taking in" and then The Tremblings, of your body's
unavoidable responses are the very thing most 'maverick loners'
like me need most from another in this world,
if we are to continue on in our mission with any kind of strength..
(along with its much desperately-needed resolve).
If, within the "taking in" process.. the beautifully feeling
Receivers such as yourself, were to be overcome
to the point of release~ all alone.. on the edge of your bed..
isn't that a very understandable and nearly unavoidable
and also so very very tangible part of the process also..
--In itself
above and outside of all human (and Heavenly) judgement?
Carry on, sweet Angel..
and so gorgeously continue to be who you are.
Those that can see.. see (and feel) most clearly.*
I see you.
#
Aug 12, 2023
Aug 12, 2023 at 8:19 PM UTC
When nothing is everything
Everything is nothing
When everything is true
Nothing is true
When everything is false
Nothing is false
When everything is false
Everything is true
When everything is true
Everything is false
When everything is nothing
Nothing is everything
Constant war is constant
peace
Knowing nothing is as good as knowing everything
Complete freedom is complete dictatorship
The extremes are not furthest
apart but coinciding
~~~~~~~~
And past,it doesn't exist
Neither does tomorrow
Just this infinitesimal moment
Where everything is false,
Nothing is false
Everything is true
Nothing is true
You are me
I am you
Jul 16, 2022
Jul 16, 2022 at 9:35 AM UTC
I see you fetus on radar struggle and heart beat sensors yet I don’t know your thoughts about your home! I see you form but you don’t see me. But what do you strive for? What do you believe you are? Do you have goals? If I had to guess they’d most likely be comical attempts at taming wind. As for me I know your destiny 9 months from conception. Your world is a world within a world called earth dependent on an inception that unknowingly feeds you maturated to the inevitable extinction of your entire world. This is called death and I know it’s scary. Why would you ever imagine leaving your tight spot comfortable? I feel that way about earth more often then I’d like to admit. Let me stop for now because I’m jumping the gun, I’ll discuss this new world after contractions. Have faith your birth is coming and with this death new life will emerge. I know it’s hard to grasp and even if knowing this was possible u’d still leave kicking and screaming but just wait and you’ll know what I mean in due time. So enough about you for a moment for I am in a paradox that I can’t explain! It started with my death from the womb (birth) which brought life on the sweetness of earth but upon that emergence started a countdown to a new death! Which leaves me to this moment. I am preparing like you but in different ways. I know you can’t give me answers but at least we are one in the same dilemma of subjectivity to our respective womb. I wish we could compare notes and come to a consensus that understands the futility of our worlds permanence. For I am a lot like you! I am a fetus in this world called man and my womb is mother earth. I want to learn from your mistakes! This world is dying like your womb and it’s just as hard for me to come to grips that this is not my home. Fetus thank you for allowing me to view your delusion so I can understand mine. Jesus gives me the truth because he sees me like I see you. Not to be hypocritical I must strive not to leave kicking and screaming. I know this is not my home but a place of active preparation for eternity! As for you fetus one birth at a time.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 11:48 PM UTC
Art is not an element
Art is not an object
Art is soul and heart depicted
Art is the subjectivity of the objective
Art is love and all the beauty
Art transends reason and logic
Art is pure abstractal medicine
Art is expression and entertainment
Art is life and death conjucture
Art is an everlasting ******
Art is to our souls as what oxygen is to our lungs
Art is pleasure and pain conjucture
Art is an everlasting ******
Art is life beauty and escence
Art is perception attitude and perspective
Art is life
Art is love
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 11:41 PM UTC
I am pure subjectivity
I am objectivity contained by a brain
I am an entity
Inside a body
I control my limbs
And my organs control me
The apparatus for my entity
I am a being that seeks understanding
While remembering who I stand under
Those who sneakily seek to plunder
The developing enigmatic wonder
In my mind's torturous tundra
My mind uses my body as a slave
But is also a slave to the shame
Of my body's interactions
Within marginalized factions
There is a fight between the two
Like the fights between me and you
My body won't quit when my mind is through
And my mind stays conscious while my body is blue
So I'm stuck in a deadlock
With a mentality of bedrock
Once I cease to be human
I can be the perfect judge
When my emotions won't budge
I'll see things the way most organisms do
Inside this zoo
Animals have the flu
And give it to each other
When we communicate through pain
The flu actually seems tame
Compared to your game
Of taking humanity
And leaving an entity
After you entered me
My somber soul left
Because of personality theft
My mind moves my arms
To block the pain
My mind moves my feet
To do the same
Yet I lost these advantages
When I had to walk too far
My life only got more hard
After experiencing your entropy
I became a disembodied entity
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 4:17 PM UTC
After taking a phone call,
My nosy ears overheard
An incident involving a
Female coworker flirting
With a male coworker.
Rather, she was joking
Around with him
Out of boredom.
He said he had a wife,
And she asked if he would
Allow her to be his mistress.
The man made a complaint
To a supervisor, and she
Was moderately reprimanded.
The one accused did not
Think he would take
It so seriously.
I cannot help but think
He would not have felt
Offended if he found her
Attractive, no matter how
Supposedly devout he is to his wife.
If anything it would have
Flattered his ego,
And if it was vice versa
I believe the same
Principle would apply.
The paradoxical predictability
Of Human subjectivity.
(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 10:29 PM UTC
The subjectivity in the world still scares her
Like a little girl, dwindling in her room,
The vastness outside her drowning out
That meek little voice of hers.
It’s too loud; it’s too much
Her heart cannot swallow all the
World’s anguish
So instead she thrusts forth,
Razorblades at her wrists,
A cosmic determination lining
Her lips.
No, no, today is not the end
It is neither the beginning nor
The start. It is a quixotic trance
And she’s left out there in the cold.
Dank, deep, a sadness that consumes
And in the willows outside her window
All she sees are the bluebirds nesting
They are warm
They are whole
They carry on
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 1:49 AM UTC
What is boredom but subjectivity,
Always viral conductivity
From one and two and here and there
A way of ratifying one's personal cares.
Likes, dislikes, attractions, distractions,
Formulative thoughts and rash reactions,
Bombardment of character and theatrical woes,
And no one can say from where it comes or goes.
A view from behind the pill of bitter estrangement,
Lenses and visions of complicated derangements,
Better or worse, one subjects his collusions
With the darker abstracts of critical confusion.
So what is boredom but a lack of reason,
A hiding place behind a suspension of disbelief,
What is boredom but a condition of pondering the lack of what's to ponder,
Construction of illness rather than intellectual relief?
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 3:29 PM UTC
So you say you want to die?
I suppose subjectivity can be heavy
Repetition, boredom and existential claustrophobia
But you should at least see the world from the top of Pike's Peak first.
It can be your beginning
A catalyst for awe
The explosion that sets you aflame
After that you will begin to see it in everything
Even in something as mundane as a blade of grass
Then your life will be spent at the top of a mountain
Your head will always float in the clouds
Light as dandelion seeds in the wind
Deep as the whole of existence
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 10:12 PM UTC
Scientists made a lofty discovery
The universe continually expands and contracts
In the exact same manner absolutely
So we ultimately live the same lives for all eternity
So we devised a way to send a message to the next universe
A message that would stay in place
Even without the existence of space
A message that would survive time
Even through the end of our line
The message conveyed:
Don't make our mistakes
Correct our sins
Our universe ended
The new one began
The first humans mindlessly worshipped the message
Hearts of the willing sacrificed
They killed for control of its mystic power
It belonged to whoever owned the ivory tower
Until religions were developed
Although they were all somewhat derived from the message
People began to see the message itself as a pagan hieroglyph
An incoherent interference
They killed all that worshipped it
Senseless slaughter
Things got hotter
When people were finally intelligent enough to understand it
They saw all the things we did wrong
And how to avoid those mistakes
But the things we did that were wrong
Seemed much more convenient and easier
They used the weapons we told them not to make
And the ideas we told them to steer clear of
Swords became guns
Racism became genocide
Love became hate
More direct ways of imposing their vision onto the world
Foregoing empathy and compromise
They submitted to the fascism of their subjectivity
And were plunged into the Dark Ages
Steel ***** and chains
Followed by bullet rain
Humanity was lost and found
Humanitarians gagged and bound
People had to make mistakes for themselves
Until they decided to stop living in hell
Humanity collectively decided to follow the message righteously
After they saw hope for the future
Through the vision our message provided
And they realized they should write a message of their own
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 7:33 AM UTC
To net a butterfly takes time,
catch the states of mind with kindness.
From thoughts, emotions, opinions, belief,
ethereal dreams may seem out of reach.
The small pineal gland still stands tall,
even if we're concealing what is real.
Cold hard stone in hand,
a granite man can fracture.
Match the eye of sun gods,
appreciate your wider space in chorus.
Combined from our creative borderlands,
where we learn to understand and teach.
Factual fractals repetitively resonate,
so try to make the most of your ability.
As intuitions have a silent plan,
contemplate your future face.
This life can be deemed a dream,
where we're all here for a finite time.
You're born, you work and times pass by.
Then onto the next opportunity.
May 10, 2021
May 10, 2021 at 9:24 AM UTC
I come from a place of empathy
where perceptions
is a mix of colors
of hers, his and their
perspective.
I come from a place of empathy
where ears are made of patience,
drums sensitive to the change in wavelength,
de-weaving complexity
into simplicity.
I come from a place of empathy
where the emotions lacerating
hearts – sliced,
run parallel through me.
You lock into my embrace,
finding the comfort of compassion
amongst the rusty and scraping conditions.
When you project anger, fear, and angst
I start dissecting your past,
your rearing,
justifying and understanding
the origins of the
hand and experiences
that shaped you.
You render your mind open,
as I step in
walk among the stars, darkness
and the turbulent waves crashing within.
Your emotions tingle my skin,
and linger within me
as I understand wor(l)d apart,
developing cross-cultural understanding
and objectifying subjectivity.
Though I begin to understand
the origins, stem of your being,
swaying with your words
and hazing in the paradox of other’s being.
I choose to succumb to gravity,
and remain sturdy on certain beliefs.
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 9:11 AM UTC
Hallelujah, I’ve found you
one I could have chosen.
Were your body pliant, capable
more slight, more saudrey
a subjectivity
easily disposed
I would be able to hold your breath, capture your voice
contemptuous, mocking and wholly undue
spending more than a half a day
being who you are would make me hate you--
But for a morning, maybe from eight to noon
I’d take on your face, look straight in you,
my mirror.
Shout out my name three times
with hope, I would appear,
without your bated breath
from jagged mirror, foggy-eyed by shower
I'd be able see me touch your body, glistening
parting your quivering lips for
myself inside, to feel your smile.
A phantasm to myself.
I want you, my significant other
my lover,
my ontological
displacement
of
milky
misfortunate
malaise.
Your substance is my fortuitous down-going.
My ship-sinking speculum.
Desire, mediated by a lack of being-there.
Klage.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 2:00 PM UTC
In my world there is iron and concrete.
There are rusted pendulums and mute birds
There are time bombs and dictators.
There is faith and there is reason
subjectivity
objectivity
And there, out there, is reality,
But none of us can see it through the barbed wire and the
Iron and concrete.
Apr 11, 2011
Apr 11, 2011 at 12:15 AM UTC
Wielding one balance before me:
Divine intent, no tool for an evil genius
Levied ‘gainst one jar wrought of glass,
Within fine grains of coal.
My sins may weigh to graphite
Fitting, for no blanket of Heaven
Suits my restlessness.
Cast me on parchment
Where I spell out the pain
Of never capturing truth—no human may.
Enigma, Aestheticus, vibrant, complete
Finished, or full. No, I utter to Venus
A Pygmalion word to know
All as art and beauty so well
As to paint it carnally.
Give me that which is love made manifest
On lithe little toes, walks her
Which, parsed out selectively
Is revealed in awesome moment, eternal
Subjectivity. Either she steps from a canvas
Strides from a dream, I awaited it, organic
To come into being, to escape my grasp
And make useless poetry.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
a facsimile of happiness
a continuous depression filled with interludes
of sunsets shimmering off loving eyes
neither logic nor morality warm beds
so we keel over, head long into midnight streets
groping for lips to kiss
ears to listen
hands to caress
******* to obliterate
for Newton's apple to drop
or Buddha's lotus to blossom
for Gabriel's sword to rip chests open
some are enslaved to absolute subjectivity
a tattered rag flapping on the wind
they are forever drowning drowning drowning
dooming any who dive in to save
they can not step back and observe the play
they are the play: the king, the jester, the soldier
the longing maiden, bitter spinstress, sword-smith's daughter
the prideful hero or stubborn villain
the country bumpkin chopping wood
the raving madman in the wilderness
oblivious to the back-drop or matrices
the paradigms of passion
the translucent chemical pulleys
the perpetual violations of history
******* them
even in the womb
the birth of an idea is the most wondrous phenomenon
the booming I AM forever resounding
it is a big-bang of metaphysical splendor
it is the unity of art-science-religion
the holy trinity of being
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 11:07 PM UTC