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uranus Sep 2014
i.
She abstracts me from thinking in correspondence.

The symbiosis between us is an ilk drawn by oblivion and distaste.
My intellectual property in fact has been decocted by the thud of her voice, uninfluenced of her literal aphorism.
Her whimsicality disproves my goal of escape disproportionately, leading to an incontestable emotion.

My useless trickery disintegrates and I succumb un-admittedly.

She is the symphony to any verbal effect, the rhyme to an attempted haiku.
She is the immaterial love that brings me disruption and unprepared musings.

Chris Landry Jul 2010
Will you help me, I’m searching for stability
Can’t keep riding this rollercoaster for the rest of eternity
Been thrown onto this ride with a head full of uncertainty
Through the sharp turn, the ups, and the downs I must find an identity
All my struggles and success’s gathered knowledge but came up empty
I’m on rails no matter how hard I fight the road controls me
Pull me off the rails make this ride end abruptly
I’ll gladly lie on the side lines and watch my former insanity
Round and round covering the same thing for infinity

“Hello what’s your name, thank you for saving me
Why did you do it, help me and risk all that is free
You could’ve joined me unintentionally
So grateful for your selfless act of bravery
I must ask why, not out of fear of dishonesty
Your intentions where honorable surely
I must know to satisfy my curiosity”

Stupefied she answered that I was the hero to be
She told me that one day I would open my eyes and see
My eyes feel open she doesn’t know what I’ve seen obviously
She’s to happy and stable she’d never comprehend my story
She smiled and said “I cannot imagine such treachery
But one day you will see that place as heavenly”
Almost enraged but I was to intrigued to be angry
She doesn’t know how I once hurt so deeply

Her presence was enough to fill the emptiness in me
Her compassion made me shine ever so brightly
I loved her far past my gratitude, yet I felt I was hers to carry
She still maintained I was the hero that I was just not ready
I feared she was just trying to stop me from feeling guilty
Though having her to care so much made me lucky
I didn’t want her to keep acting so modestly
I tell her she need not hide the true reality
I know she was the reason I was now acting so strongly
Once again uninfluenced she said to me in a tone so genuinely
“My love, stick to your opinion but we all have our theory”

I now live a life so wonderfully steady
Nothing to tell me otherwise, I’m always happy
I never get knocked down, not even rarely
She took the clouds from the sky now it’s always sunny
But there is an emptiness hiding underneath the glory
On top of the world I feel like I’m unworthy
Without the downs the highs feel so empty
I finally see how I was living life so blindly
I must return to my ride that was my insanity
I can’t bring her she’s such a joyful lady
I show her my first tears and tell her I’m leaving with my heart heavy
She smiles at my teary eyes she had foreseen this destiny
“Now you know how it feels, to be without adversity
Will you be my hero and ride the rollercoaster with me”
Kagey Sage Mar 2018
What’s new about Hipsters? It’s not that they're the first co-opted counter-culture, far from it. The Beats were co-opted. The Sentimentalists, over 200 years ago, were co-opted before capitalism was so industrious. It’s not even new that calling a ***** a ***** is offensive. “Hippies,” “Beatniks,” “Emos;” all insulting labels for youth that thought they were much more.

There it is, or some of it, perhaps. Does the current so-called counter-culture feel like they’re part of something much more? Even without labels, I don’t think they think of themselves as a counter-culture at all. The worst part about it is the Hipsters and  non-Hipsters are really much the same. Falling for a similar niche, but feeling like they ain’t.

We all like flannel, thick glasses, and good beers. We’re all killing Applebee’s. We’re the waitstaff there who laughs at ourselves, cause we’re just so low-down. Not the last, but toward the bottom rung of a ladder that once meant progress beyond our parents’ lives. We stand for nothing and everything, because a secure tomorrow seems unlikely and unwanted. Beget suburban kids like our parents did? Could I buy them as much as I had? A student loan on top of a mortgage, I think I’m better off paying exorbitant rent. Plus, it just feels more temporary, like everything else.

Late twenties, long passed the age my parents conceived, I’m getting old. Lack of full adult independence, still feel floated in embryonic fluid, trying not to give juvenile hopes up.  Qualified for that secure job, but is it open? Maybe I’ll have to move down South. Just like everyone else.

At least there’s always music. Nearly a century of recorded songs. Indie, Scene, and Emo; the last real counter-cultures associated with rock genres, and most practitioners scoffed at these labels. Why didn’t Punks or Metal Heads care?

More pressing, what is the newest rock genre? Emo faded nearly 10 years ago. Some formation of Americana seems sorta fitting now. Not far from that “Indie” umbrella,  it’s what Hipsters seem to like most, at least in the TV commercials. These more choral, sometimes bluesy bands. Some are good, but it’s nothing new.

Now, the algorithms anticipate evolution years in advance. All tastes like Styrofoam, so we spit it out fast. We keep skipping tracks to futility escape the same persistent hum. All the price for our growing clairvoyance. Telescopically, we are flying fast into a wall that ends originality. Too many citations needed. We enter them into software to manage. Our fear of plagiarism makes one uninfluenced instead of inspired. We just make homages. Turn anything creative into a list of allusions.

We forgot to forget
Suspend St. Anselm
patron of using rationality
to explain away one’s faith
in magic and mystery
God exists because
all we can imagine must exist
Your unicorns are but
a mind’s fusion of
horse and narwhal
and your culture is but
a culmination of has-been trends
So it’s all been done
Why try to change a thing?
Why try to be new?

This is the end. Not reflecting and absorbing past cultures with an eye to the future. But judging and consuming past cultures with with a carnal now. There are some niceties to be gained in solely present preoccupations. Yet, no Buddha abounds in these selfish meditations. We are no longer the bodhisattvas, suspending enlightenment to save all beings. “We’re woke, because we know we’re ******” Then we type a symbol for “laugh out loud,” while our mouths stayed closed. We take a morning slug and drive off to work. The complexity of our controllers v. the simple fleeting pleasures. What can I do? Why should I bat an eye at the way the world works?
https://www.adbusters.org/article/hipster-the-dead-end-of-western-civilization/
Jimmy King Aug 2013
The last time
I drove up here
With these people
You were with me too

You said you liked
The farmland- it appealed
To your sense
Of order

I tried to explain to you
How disorderly
It really was-
Because it's really
The natural world,
Uninfluenced by man,
That's orderly

Because us humans,
With our self-destructive
Monocultures which exist
To support our self-destructive
Industries,
Produce 98% of our corn
For just about anything
But human consumption...

But you didn't understand that
Of course,
So we sat in silence
For a few minutes
As I failed
To understand you too

And I should have known then,
As you failed to see the world
As an oncoming apocalypse
Revealed through  shades of corn
And I failed
To see the world
As anything but,
That though everything was fine
On so many levels
Beneath the surface,
At some fundamental level
We, like the corn industry,
Were unsustainable
Nagual Dec 2018
Your tread has become dreary,
Heavy and weary;
You have forgotten why you walk.
Long ago,
You stepped on your once innocent, Brightly burning wick,
Obliviously,
Until it was out,
Cold and buried,
Many feet underneath the dull landscape
You now walk across.

You have forgotten how to see;
Your eyes have sunk
Into the recesses of your thoughts.
They jump from light to light,
Like a frantic moth,
Following instincts yet unaware
Of its own light,
Its senses hammered
By its impulses.

You taste only extremes,
Overindulge in fanciful delights;
Your tongue gets drunk,
Then passes out,
Your mind convinced it has tasted
Satisfaction
And nothing more can be
Or is required.

You have forgotten yourself,
Your colourful visions,
Your raw sensations,
Your honest perceptions.
You have forgotten your
Uncontaminated,
Uncorrupted,
Uninfluenced yearnings.
The clouds that once beckoned you,
Taking your mind for a spin
With an outpour of
Tingling excitement,
Have come to symbolise
The nondescript background
Against which your silent struggle
Unfolds into
Nothing in particular.
Angela Moreno May 2014
The other day I stood
On the outside of the crowd
As I often find myself
In rooms that get too loud.
Everyone pushed and shoved
To get a closer view
Of the newborn baby boy
Who had now reached week two.
I wondered what it was
About a baby that brought charm.
Why everyone fought for a chance
To have him in their arms.
Remember when we were born
No one told us what to be
Not a word about what to say
We were completely free.
Untainted and uninfluenced--
Not robots of this world
Pure and fresh and vulnerable
Just us baby boys and girls.
Naked, raw, we were only skin
And one heart beating strong.
In our first few minutes we became
Who we should be all along.
Unharmed and still untouched,
We lived with only love in us to give.
No one had told us no
So we had all will to live.
Remember when we were babes?
All soft and sweet and magical.
It makes me wonder what happened.
Because, God, we were so beautiful.
How can one soul treat another unequally?
—That which can't be perceived by the senses is free of judgement.
Sound in to your silenceful Nature,
Echoes of an uninfluenced instinct shall reverberate:
That all of us are consciously different,
That all are in a relationship with a predesigned ecosystem,
That all are the functioning cells of one body,
One organism—The Earth,
And in that all of us are one!
So, how does one treat oneself unequally?
João Rodrigues Sep 2020
in the shade
of a chestnut tree
in a garden with
camellias
and orchids
i listen to
schubert's
trio op.100
when
two birds land
in a near tree
and start to
loudly sing

i rush to turn
down
schubert's
masterpiece

nothing we've ever made
or will ever make
will be of compare
to what nature
has made its

unnamed
unlabeled
unspoken
untouched
uninfluenced
and
unatta­inable
to us
while creatures
of meaning
Man Mar 9
God, the Lord, help me.
I try to remain above frays
But always end up tattered.
The things I care of, that to me, matter;
How can I sit in silence?
What allowance of free thought is given to impartiality? Personal belief falls
Far outside it's realm, yet is
Entertained by all. I want
To stay unbiased, and uninfluenced.
Want, of little means, when contending with
Chance encounters in life. Because
Even if you wish to remain so
Others will drag you along with their cause
Unless you distance yourself
Which makes you a traitor

— The End —