"unawareness" poems
Dearest Destined Jewel,
Of longest heartfelt yearning, Bestow on thee, Hamlet awaits, Ophelia picking flowers, Magnolia branches speaking, Beautifications of Spring.
Supreme buds of new life, Magnoliaceae of Queen bees, An enterprise of wonder, Symbolic child's enchanted play, Faeries in flight whisper attractions, Fondness, Les fleurs du mal.
Ample blossoms, Bosoms of delight, Devouring light, Little birds sing, Nestling, Chirping a languishing cacophony, Blissful unawareness, Nature nurture the soul.
A slip then fall, Nearby church bells distract, Into abyss fallen, Elevated body all at once, Floating amidst flora, Drowning, Petticoat woven dress, Resting on fresh valley water, Immersion, No contention, Hamlet awaits.
© Sia Jane
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
Let me know
What was that
That made you
To choose him/her
She/He replied
Leave it, or listen
***** is the future
Nothing more
Being an observant and a traveller of examined life I come to this conclusion. Tragedy does not happen, from the very beginning It is "Us" who pave the path within. With the unawareness we focus to travel to the destination where we don't belong. Throughout the journey we keep on dreaming with a hope of a good day making us vulnerable to the threshold, when even a single undesired word, few seconds delay, lyrics of the background music could unexpectedly break us.
Trust me we all are fragile.
Let it be simple, if we are watering the leaves of the plant and hope to grow, we get the result what we have to accept. Sometime mishaps happens, we are the culprit. How dare we expect to water the roots of the plant in neighbor's terrace and wish for the fruit to be ours.
We may smell the fragrance if the kind breeze blow towards our side.
Even we may always get the fragrance if we follow the direction of the wind.
The choice is ours.
Does it worth?
Will we be happy?
Can we hide the pain?
Always
The choice is all ours.
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 9:33 PM UTC
The perfectionist loves to hear his voice,
He is the respected critic inside,
He is the learned one,
The educated and the educator.
A beautiful constructor,
The finishing touch
To the artist's hand.
The voice is always a partner,
He will always be there to help
The artist, comfort is taken in his ability.
The artist needn't forget,
There are many voices on the side,
Awaiting for their time to speak,
Each one has its time,
All varying in their patience and duration.
The artist sees what he hasn't before:
The voice of support; the voice of love; the voice of decision; and the voice of passion.
There is always time to contemplate his flaws
And he wants to reassure himself:
Perfection is not a demand, but a quest,
One of beauty and one of joy.
Perfection is the beauty in imperfection.
The pursuit of achievement is one to relish, it is not to be rushed or
Ceased, it is a running walk, a walking run, a sitting stand, a moving still.
It is every step he has made.
The artist looks behind and sees
His effort, he is proud to have experienced
His triumphs and his trauma
The voice of comfort will be there all the way,
She is a gentle quieter spirit that deserves as much an ear.
When all voices have calmed and subsided,
Her tenderness remains.
I remind the artist of his friends,
I remind him that the critical voice is the voice of nature,
The physical laws unchanged.
He is the driving force to stasis and movement in the age worry and indecision.
"Do not be overwhelmed" I say to the artist,
You are one of many.
You are with friends.
The voice of change encourages the artist to evolve and to smile,
The voice of happiness allows peaceful living and awareness.
The tiger belongs to nature,
not to be feared, but to be respected
and understood.
Do not despair, do not relinquish hope,
Hope is the shining beacon in a world of anguish.
Hope is the angel shining her torch ever so bright.
Hope is the window that allows pain and suffering to see the light of day ,
Hope allows oneness.
The artist moves his brush: an effortless stroke,
A flicker of joy,
A tear in his eye.
He once was old,
Now is young.
He learns to enjoy
The work he has done,
He can now enjoy the work he does,
He is enjoying the work he is doing.
He enjoys his life.
The state of mind, it is a fickle hatchling.
Able to be pursued and persuaded,
also able to be liberated.
The artist is free,
His thoughts can pass,
His fear will subside,
His body can move,
His heart will follow
And the mind will allow.
Spirit be set free,
Bird do fly,
Artist do paint,
You,
You are.
Peace within oneself is peace with others.
The artist is brave, he is a soul that stands tall in the face of adversity,
He is a sleepless enigma in his room at night,
He is the passionate one,
The artist and his love affair with the critic outshines his charisma,
The love for the sophisticated darkness,
His love for the melodrama,
His quest for knowledge,
Perhaps the only knowledge is
Ignorance.
Blissful unawareness.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC
What is the void?
Nothingness manifested?
There can’t really be such a thing…
How can there be nothing?
It’s impossible.
You can’t fault me for having trouble wrapping my head around an idea as intricate and deeply infinite as nothing. From a young age, we’re taught that everything, even empty space, is created from protons, neutrons, subatomic particles…
Empty space is always made from something else.
Some describe the void not as a place, but instead as spiritual enlightenment and/or liberation. As detachment from everything. Some describe entering the void as the moment one realizes that if you try too hard to understand then you will miss the point; as the moment where the student realizes that he will never be able to anticipate his masters surprise attack, so, instead of being anxious he accepts his inability to know; as the understanding that holding on is suffering and letting go is freedom.
There is no way to truly talk about the void, about emptiness, because there is nothing tangible to be expressed in words. And yet, our curious human minds are so fixated on using dialogue to try and articulate this commodity.
Words will always fail.
Even if we could wrap our heads around this idea of emptiness, this complete and total lack of anything (comfort, love, hate, despair, joy, happiness, agony(all pieces of this complicated fabric known as human existence)) we would descend into the deepest and darkest of melancholies. The sudden moment of realization that non-being and being are one and the same and that the only thing separating the two is the awareness of being aware and the unawareness of being unaware would be too much to endure. The weight of realizing that nothing is everything, that we are 0 (placeholders for nothing (the extinction of our species before a return to nature untainted imminent)) would prove to be the strongest link of all in these shackles of existence.
What is the void?
Maybe it’s best not to ponder this any further.
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 4:09 PM UTC
Sometimes I dig for it.
The lost fragment of my hips,
The way they swayed in front of your lips.
Now lost among the shredded portrait of our kiss.
I shove my fingertips into the night,
looking among the velvet moon and starlight
Between his long legs, underneath her tongue's site
Hoping to taste that bittersweet comfort of pain and flight.
To savor the honesty in the style I loved you
the silent mockery of poetic words desperately glued
to the confused pupils of your green eyes which unconsciously threw
those words of commitment under sly smiles and hidden hands tracing my tattoos.
But sometimes I find it
after a couple of beers and a sip of smoke.
Do you remember the rhythm those humid nights provoked?
They infected my brain with wanderlust and the feeling when time chokes
on whatever logic a perfect second shouts at the unawareness of a lover's hope.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 1:45 PM UTC
Here. What now?
Driven by swift passion and desire,
driven by destined taxi,
that chooses its own road.
Steering close to the edge,
closer and closer,
until attractive embrace towards the danger,
and unknown, pulls in with violent tug,
Finally – fall,
Tumble down, in drunk state of mind,
unawareness of destination,
Just fall, and fall, and fall,
Until you land on hellish ground,
like new born child, you have no place here,
direction and time are non-existent,
but you must go on,
Like new born, take first steps,
they’re always the worst,
sharp gravel piercing tender skin,
scars remain on toes, for world to see,
Once rhythm starts,
feel accepted and comfortable,
but wear a disguise,
so they can’t see it’s me.
I often glace towards them,
at the peak, I see them laugh,
together, hand in hand – united,
high on ecstasy and joy.
Here. What now?
What I wanted, to be so sure,
yet – be so very wrong,
no turning back, this is where I belong.
Unhappy on both realms,
bitter boredom never overcome,
individuality illusions, still to be found,
not happy both up with them, and down here.
So where shall I plant my roots?
Perhaps, it’s not the destination,
but the journey of my fall.
Jun 5, 2012
Jun 5, 2012 at 4:35 AM UTC
I wish I could capture the moment
We exchange glances and smiles
Creating sparks,
and fireworks,
and fireflies.
Admiring you for what seems to be an eternity
Captivated by your face and beauty.
How the sunlight adds a perfect glow to your skin
Defining each curve,
and each lines,
of your face and body.
Unconciously staring at you in just pure adoration
Unable to fathom your perfection.
How the dead silence brings yourself out perfectly
Hands in your pockets,
your lips sealed tightly,
dimples showing slightly.
Mesmerized at your sweet, kindly, innocent acts
Is there anything that you lack?
How your flaws makes you as perfect as can be
Postured restlessly,
beauty mark on your back,
messy hair swaying swiftly.
You're soft-spoken within such a great humbleness
Doesn't change you nonetheless!
How unawareness effortlessly makes you perfect
"Angelic-like music,"
"striking like static,"
"scars are beauty from tragic,"
You see the good in everyone me being one, yet-
You don't realize how beautiful you are
And that's what makes you perfect even from afar.
-djs
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 11:00 AM UTC
From the sky it came crashing down, one sunny morning.
Only in retrospect you think,
How did you ride those clouds all this while?
Smooth sailing, or light turbulence,
You floated along unawareness
You were invincible,
But that sinking feeling
In the bottomless pit of your stomach
Only got deeper and deeper.
Until that fateful day
When all the emergency lights went on
and the gas mask drops down to your lap.
The seat beside you is empty now,
Parachute missing
Looks like someone got to it first
Looks like he knew it was coming,
And he saved himself first.
A certain risk is always taken, unknowingly
Didn't you, in essence, place all your bets in one go?
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 3:11 PM UTC
When you are coming off drugs, when you are held down by the crippling force of anxiety and pain; when your eyes are finally open and you see your life for what it truly is, all of the things you run from catch up with you. Like a strong surge caused by a hurricane, it washes over you, and the tide tries to pull you back underwater, back where it is safe. Back where the comforting numbness and cold of unawareness can smother your senses and put you back to blissful sleep. You never learned to deal with this reality, the actual discomfort of being alive on planet earth, with all its beautiful anguish and fear. It is hard to see from this point all the wonderful things about life, the things that get the rest of humanity through every day. The bliss that can come from living is obscured because you are still underwater; you can see it, just barely, like sunlight through salt water. But it is so, so far; it is hard to believe anything more can actually exist.
It is comforting to know that there are things bigger than you and your personal pain. That the sun will continue to set and rise with or without you. That there are millions who suffer far worse and live through each day with that struggle. If they can open their eyes each morning, pick up that ever so heavy burden, and walk with it smiling, so can you. There is something indomitable about the human spirit, something unspeakably powerful. Inside you burns a will to live that is stronger than any drug, stronger than any pain, stronger than any fear. The power to defeat what you face is already within you. It resides inside you, deep down, silenced and shuttered; but it will rise again, as will you. There is very little you cannot come home from. Even if you are all alone. Even if your pain must be silent and you must shoulder it by yourself. You are human. You are strong.
And the sunlight is there above the waves, waiting to warm you. Waiting to welcome you back into life. There are only better things ahead.
Hold on.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
I remember so much that I wish I could forget.
This is a poem about Psalm 23 choked out through tears.
This is a poem about astro vans and
tractor lawn mowers and
driveway car washes and
small garden spaces and
digger wasps and
three wolves and a moon.
This is about the Backstreet Boys and
Def Leppard and
Kenny Chesney.
“Dreams” by The Cranberries.
About waterparks and
swim lessons and
the smell of chlorine.
Fresh cut grass. Bonfire smoke permeating through the house.
Grey diamond tiles on white linoleum.
Hands clenched down on washcloths.
Muddled. It’s all so muddled. Stuck beneath
brain matter and cerebrospinal fluid and
down, down, down beneath the lake.
How can I dig it out while also digging it down deeper?
I want to forget it all. No memory, no pain, no ******* problem.
Goldfish life: a pipedream.
Oct 23, 2021
Oct 23, 2021 at 12:35 PM UTC
She is the most beautiful creature on this whole earth flowing in the breeze like a moth to a flame I reason with these forces of nature but something opposes this a twist of fate a bitter twist of fate I just need to make it perfect a factor corrupts I can't control my temper a weird rapacious element of surprise a catch in the throat of real awareness towards something I love so much yet am never around. A blissful unawareness to darker elements I cannot compose anything more meaningful streaming from my mind to the fingers which type this out. I **** Hellopoetry with intelligent prose of which I am capable.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 8:20 PM UTC
Awareness: What are you doing?
Unawareness: Many things.
Awareness: You are not doing what you are suppose to do.
Unawareness: What am i "suppose" to do?
Awareness: Nothing at all...
Unawareness: Then what could be my purpose in life?
Awareness: To simply Be.
Unawareness: Be? be what?
Awareness: What you are.
Unawareness: A human? I'm suppose to be a human? Am i not a human already?
Awareness: Ah. I see now. You are still Unaware.
Sep 21, 2011
Sep 21, 2011 at 1:10 AM UTC
All the things I've said to you
Each word that I've uttered
All the poems that I write to you
Each phrase carefully selected
Everything I do for you
Is from my heart of hearts
I love you truly I do
I'm sorry I'm so complicated
Forgive me for my untrust
I have learnt an important lesson
I will no longer give into fear
And see through my imagination
This filter my mind creates
Based on past relationships
Is not the reality of us my love
A moment of unawareness
I want to see you as you are
My beautiful butterfly
I know you love me so much
So please don't lose faith in us
Just give me a little time
To learn to trust once more
in your bright light shining
I can learn to love again
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 1:53 PM UTC
shadows shuffle with thin letters over heads--
people try to escape the downpour of
Nature’s sadness or self-renewal.
They splash their confusion and unawareness--
the anger of no preparation.
Perhaps it’s Reality’s stupidity,
but they run to safety, warmth, comfort--
the arms of Acceptance that bring contentment--
warm coffee and eskimo kisses;
fingers on clocks vanquish light and
defy some sense of logic we deem
scientifically relevant. Suddenly, life’s bruising is as fresh as wet
pavement--as fresh as your hands--eager and innocent—
racing to find every curve, hill,
valley of my willingness.
I am sore from phantom kisses-broken
from abandonment—a coward’s half-assed fight.
As rain cheats the sun, I have been cheated
with songs that are just songs--words as paradoxical
as rainfall and sunshine harmonized.
As it rains, I don’t move--but
I feel it run; through my hair--down
softness and skin--as familiar as your hands--dust trails
embedded in my closed eyes—people, you and I, aware.
Silently, Reality knows that time—fingers on clocks--vanquishes nothing but itself.
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 12:06 AM UTC
Unawareness
Alas we folly with wisdom
Less we bliss with ignorance
The latter of which I climb
To heights of obsolescence
Bite my teeth
And define my feeling
You’ll hardly take my
Know of knowing
Only human
will chase thy knowledge
And die long before
They reach their challenge
Having wasted
In futures time
Past reveals nothing
To present rhyme
You will return to your eternal sand
“I” will hold the universe in his hand
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
The crown is crowned…
Queens’ skull filled and fit
The crowd yelled and hell…
Long live the great queen
And, the kingdom untied…
Out of scary and harass
It begins a royal customs…
Concert is growing up high
Sunshine, freely moving…
And everyone face is filled
Behold! Queens’ speech…
Is begin spread, to crowd
The crown is a crown…
Not every crown is a crown
Our crown is enormous…
The greatest crown ever
We are inimitable to rule…
This world, stock and barrel
We must proliferate…
Our well prominent desires
We call all to behold…
Our intention, will not free
Our invasion is, for all…
To lead the world wholly
Not for, to enchain again…
But, to design new hope
And, this crown is our…
Shall cross the threshold all
No stallions and horses…
Shall bear our heaviness
Lion and lioness shall sob…
Because of fear and fairness
No elephant will dance…
On any elephantine floor
No monkeys to climb up…
Any tree to chomp a fruit
And, rodents will not free…
For robbing others’ stuff
We may stay in, longer…
Stirring every living on gravel
Some may give in, and…
Other will be tardy to breathe
Lay the blame on no one…
But on someone like thee
We are sentient for that…
Grubby games been in playing
Corruption is a hobby for…
Everyone living on this terrain
It grounds unawareness and…
Uprisings to this living space
Immoralities subjugated all…
Elders and younger living gaps
Bribery awfully deep within…
The hearts and no compassion
Extravagancy and fraud hit…
Every narrow, in this legroom
Everyone claiming the high…
Possession and supremacy to all
Needy get no crumb of aid…
Because, everyone claim is poor
We call not on behalf but…
To stay in you are and stay safe
May 21, 2020
May 21, 2020 at 1:41 PM UTC
Words to use more often...
discombobulate
cleave
eminent
enthralled
fetching
efficacy
superfluous
audacity
scrumptious
embrace
your eminent embrace left me discombobulated, more so
enthralled with my audacity to cleave to your ideology
to your superfluous information again, and again
you left me fetching, begging for more?
the efficacy of your tongue to influence even the slightest
emotion, twitch of affection...infliction
scrumptious aspiration to
shut you up.
to discern your words of capacity from ignorance
your unawareness of my copious, carnal motives
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
You sleep so soundly,
Blissful in your unawareness;
While my mind taunts me with
Everything I can’t forget
Jul 15, 2022
Jul 15, 2022 at 8:52 PM UTC
Stuck,
Uncertain whether in the beginning or the end
But does it matter?
I try to look ahead and pretend
That breaking glass doesn't scatter
I reach for that paper and that pen
Trying to hold in an unwanted tear
But then my words reflected by the ink,
Figure out the pens cry of fear.
And then I look around
Certain of the uncertainties, aware of the unawareness
Holding on to an edge
Then I glimpse his eyes, too far for me to reach,
Yet the echo of his voice still stuck in my head
I can still hear the unspoken words repeating, triggering the superfluous blame
Still muted behind walls
Walls of dishonor, disgrace, walls built by layers of shame
An inner struggle, shaped by the outer actions, of the mind verses the soul
Regardless of the consequences, I blindly reject the "Future's" call
I've spent endless nights, drowned myself with thoughts
Going hand in hand with the shades of black
Tried to relate to those shooting stars, those on a journey of no way back
And I did relate, for I knew my starting point, and I knew I was heading far
However indecisive about the awaiting future boulevard, turns out I am that star
Dealing with doubtful thoughts, facing the faces of the phases that await me still,
Taking hesitant steps, one after the other
Climbing that undecided future hill
And it seems the decision isn't easy, but I'll use his tender touch as a guide
I'll whisper in the pure ears of the deaf, and use the open eyes of the blind
For it seems it is a blessing,
To be neglectful of a thing or two
And for me nothing is as it seems, remember the sea isn't blue
I will search for the pause button eager to buy some satisfying time
For in a blink of an eye, it’ll all be over and what’s mine will no longer be mine…
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 12:49 PM UTC
Fear. Desire. Anger.
These are the roads I ride into Hell
Three titans of indescribable power
To create and destroy and control and subdue.
If channeled correctly these emanations
Flow smoothly and make feedback loops
Amplifying exponentially beyond eternity,
(A fragile thing,
Which shimmers blindness selectively
into individual eyes)
But abused in unawareness
And skeletal ignorance
These torrents of energy maim and destroy
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC
One simply
Cannot
Fall in love
Just an illusion
Emotion
Craving for
Adoration
Is it a verb
No
One cannot
Perform love
It's a noun
A silly
Invisible
Object
Do people
Feel it
Some do
Others
Fake it
If it's only
A feeling
Why
Do we all
Want
It
Why
Do our
Lives
Depend
Massively on
It
When they say
Love
Is all you
Need
They're wrong
Aren't they?
They have to be
Wrong!
But
Your soft hands
That secure
Mine
Carefully,
Your hands say
The opposite
No
They must be
Wrong!
But
Your caring eyes
That sincerely
Blindly love,
Your eyes say
The opposite
Too
Maybe they're
Wrong?
And
Your carelessness
Unawareness
And all
That's funny
About you,
They say
The opposite
So maybe they're
Not wrong?
And
Every little bits
Every piece
And
Every reason
Why I admire
You,
They too
Say the opposite
Are they really
Wrong?
They can't be!
Maybe
They're right
Maybe
I myself
Had fallen too
And maybe
I do need love
I do desire
It
Maybe
I'm wrong.
-djs
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 7:04 PM UTC
Not utterances of unsolvable contradictions,no
He speaks to me, do you not understand
In incantatory language, intense, so intense
It creates a new heaven and earth
He speaks with magic words
Whose overpowering proof of authenticity
Is in their unawareness of my presence
And would that this be the status of my language
In a world wedded to nothingness this language
Creates a fresh reality that floats free of the body and society
His words are the occupiers of a new
Magical, passionate and transformative speech
That become an absolute singularity in the mind
Where time is stilled in cancellation to a complement
Forms the magical realm of reciprocal imagination
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 3:12 PM UTC
A social disease
A tragedy
Against the wondering minds
A complete unawareness
Of the limitless possibilities
To spoiled by instant gratification
Living with to many
Of a short hand nature
Literally caught in the moment
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 2:30 PM UTC
i want to unzip myself
and throw away the vile contents,
throw it somewhere i can forget it all exists.
throw away the reminders.
throw the unknowing blank faces.
throw away what they would do to me
once they knew:
how hard i was sinking under everything they needed me to be,
how i'm only living half alive,
how much i hate their unawareness
to every baseless "i'm fine" and "i'm okay."
they would throw me deeper down
into this hole i've tried to stay content in.
but my hands are caked in dirt,
and my chest surely will sink me
if i don't shed these pieces of me soon.
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 12:50 AM UTC