"universality" poems
I peruse exhibits through the modern art museum
Nails hammered into wood
And trash strewn on the floor
I couldn't help thinking
What the **** is this ****
These can't be the champions of modern art
Moonlight and Arrival morphed my empathy and perspective
The theater is fine
Music is there for those inclined to discover it
So what about visual art?
I know a few things for certain
Nails hammered into wood never changed my perspective
Nor does seeing a garbage can in a museum affect my empathy
Trash is not art
Trash is trash
Waste meant to be thrown in the proper receptacles
So as not to obstruct our view of true beauty
I will concede that
Beauty can be found in everything
Depending on analyzation variation
But those that live an examined life
Constantly see silver linings and sour grapes
Experiencing comfort in tundras to the point of banality
Those visions are much more interesting
in their organic state anyway
As opposed to an interpersonal expression of the seemingly obvious
So what to hang in an art gallery?
I have my own opinions
At this point in time
No visuals elicit more emotions
Than dank memes
When I'm consuming art
Questions are innate in my consumption
Is this a vessel for empathy?
Is this examining the human condition?
Dank memes meet those criteria
Satirizing the powerful
Highlighting emotions and virtues in ourselves
That we're either proud or ashamed of
Memes share a common thread with poetry
In the sense that everybody can create memes
Or be a poet
I get the impression that
Universality of art diminishes it's importance
In the minds of patrons
There's an element of truth to that
But what makes art special is quality
And what makes art truly special is high quality
And that's what belongs in museums
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 11:23 PM UTC
From Being to becoming there is then an individualisation
and from individuality to universality there is a realisation.
From Oneness to manyness there is then a diversification
and from diversity to attunement there is then a unification.
____________________________
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC
Fickle
Done in mentioned light...
Through and due the common, the still
Notice of compliment, a comment of right
None
The more we save, from the proof of simplicity
Story's and a sulking tree, the seldom of fun in the sun
Turned to universality, with the eyes of anarchy
Amend
Sour and refined, refrain from the beauty of compel?
The pout of another gift and the choice of feeling's substance
Over the quiet since, that has become ours to weal...
Things
And the duty of a desire in worthing heaven, the hell of unity
Given me, and the role of synchronicity a resolve, to sweeten
Time is a daring host, to assure even the tiniest of needs, vicinity
Arduous
Threshold in the lime, the boding of every else, in the book
Staid and remembering decorum, like a hell is every cause
When we are the understanding home, to a willing look...
Force
Are we a stir of responsibility in the arms of voice, or its cope?
Timid as we are, the calling of it all, is a wisdom's source?
Look hard for a nature? when you can have a friend for it's love...
Caring
True to mellower stares, the throe of uncanny light
Made from the none, are we to survive a decision, so faring
The response of decency, that a swim with the devil, is also right...
Liberty
Loan the call, to me for a universe's song
Trust is a walking might of the deed, asking the seldom, evil's
Is it me, or the shade in a wishes stir, the tout we held all along?
Oct 10, 2022
Oct 10, 2022 at 4:45 PM UTC
Innervation kidnapped reality
Stark vibes nimbly scoured verity
From the hands of universality
Innervation kidnapped reality
At the forefront of totality
Paradise delivered clarity
Innervation kidnapped reality
Stark vibes nimbly scoured verity
Mar 23, 2012
Mar 23, 2012 at 3:46 PM UTC
It is incumbent upon us to interpret various environments in this multi-dimensional tapestry of holistic landscapes, where celestial ecosystems abound with pulsating organisms of diversity.
So, let us translate our literary concepts in silence, as we traverse cross-cultural vistas of universality.
As indigenous beings reach beyond the sparse and pompous settlements of our ******* city towers; there is something incomprehensible which transcends our ambling walk through this urban pasture, as the train departs from the classical platform of El Chorro.
I am mesmerised by linguistic creativity, as she echoes throughout distant galaxies of enriched and unspoken mystical vocabularies.
As empirical verification is not possible, I must beseech thee: Where are the connoisseurs of this poetic dimension?
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
What is this breath of life
that cools me with every exhale?
The breath that sways in between every leaf,
and provides the earth with much avail.
What is this breath of life
that gives movement to those without vitality?
That enables the inanimate to travel,
giving means to their universality.
What is this breath of life
that brushes the hair from my face?
That gives resistance to my motion,
challenging the runner's pace.
What is this breath of life
that in the absence of such, beings would also be without?
Allowing existence to continue,
contributing to the circle of life throughout.
What is this breath of life
that is constantly taken for granted?
As mother nature's sigh
tests the trees she implanted.
What is this breath of life
that rocks the wooden chimes?
Creating an orchestra with the forest
playing a different song than those of past times.
What is this breath of life
that embraces us with whispers?
That calls to us with the rest of the land
to wake up and read the divine scriptures.
What is this breath of life
that I can count on to relinquish the past?
Providing a state I can dwell in,
knowing that now is the only thing that lasts.
What is this breath of life
that is fully indifferent to good or bad?
A spirit that knows no evils,
who cannot tell between a murderer or a lily pad.
What is this breath of life
that spreads bliss every time the spirit is blown?
Who's inspiration can help you realize peace,
once you grasp that you are never alone.
What is this breath of life
that transmutes silence into song?
Giving lightness to reality,
causing your feet to dance along.
What is this breath of life
that endows me with so many reasons to smile?
The simplicity of nature's air conditioning
that makes the sun-heated day worthwhile.
What is this breath of life
that spreads seeds to propagate plants?
Helping to sustain life upon this earth,
from the humans to the ants.
What is this breath of life
that sends a message from far away?
A prior knowledge of the situations beyond,
so one can be wary of the upcoming purvey.
What is this breath of life,
that is another link in the interconnected subsistence?
Where the presence of one leads to the actuality of another,
in which the universe is a timeless coexistence.
Dec 13, 2010
Dec 13, 2010 at 5:19 PM UTC
I foster an incremental relation to the cosmos, enticed regularly by its indefiniteness and appeal.
Its evolutions, innate behaviors, and formidable sciences are recompense for earth’s meager discrepancies.
I often engage in the caprice to dismount much dissatisfaction by the constancy of riveting celestial events.
These beings possess no artificiality.
Its prophetic order, ornate and stupendous architectural facets have allowed a crescendo of dispositional hysteria.
Prosaic imprecations are deduced from its auxiliary wherewithal.
There is no contrition in immersing in enthrallment nor is there fickleness in trust.
Magnificent bodies orbit in finesse and probability, achieving universality and control.
Though these incitements are exponentially cheering, my origin is but connoted in despondency.
Usurpers and ill-suited vandals proliferated by the intemperance of the Ptolemaic discipline.
Rustics, miscreants and idle minds misdirected by less virtuous planetary derision.
My cognitive severity asserted by ominous consummation.
Oh how these preponderant truths confine me unfortunate.
Soliloquy is but an affliction amidst this era of anachronistic reign.
Grandiose passivity is intolerable at this time.
I plan to dichotomize my adamant fate from precepts and conditions anew.
The deposition of malfeasant kings will be sought.
Ploys I have already configured; propagation is near to instigation.
I will exhort my ascent to prime eminence.
The stars will sanction me to a rightful end.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
It's imperative to me to believe the universe has a centre, well, the Milky Way has one.
Solar System, too
What if, what if
there is no centre to anything and it's tragic the Sun has to think for the planets - elastic bands, floating soap bubbles in a bath
© Copyright David Bosworth December 2014
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 10:16 AM UTC
Things I Don't Know How To
bathe the sick, the elderly, too weak to bathe themselves
raise children right, equality to tender n' tough love
believe tomorrow will be better, every day
look in the mirror and say good enough, proud
leave something of me that will be cherished it for its universality
drive soul weakening jealousy from my brain
one I know,
is that two is the greatest idea ever,
and that every touch makes me just brave enough
to try things I don't know how to do
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 9:31 PM UTC
Everything Is Autobiography
Everything is autobiography.
And why not?
Ourselves inside
Is all we’ve got:
Ourselves, our lives,
Our unique lot –
Why let it rot?
Everything that heals is good.
Every healing means is food.
The only means that comes for free,
The has universality,
That’s there, for those with eyes, to see,
That’s there on call effortlessly
Is my peculiar history
And your autobiography.
Everything Is Autobiography10.26.1991/may be used in 2016 book)
Nature Of & In Reality; I Is Always You Is We;
Arlene Corwin
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 7:31 PM UTC
the first
.................................WORD
"logos"
(the open movement of moments of love)
---------
within the Personal breath
all of the utter complexity
of simple laws being
manifested..........
the outer limits
and the inner limits
(the limits of extremities)
and the "recognition"
giving birth
to the primal sensation of
consciousness
which is the
"open movement of moments of love"
--------------
the creation of memory
the creation of time and space
giving ourselves away for free
recieving eachother and for free
the universality of breathing free
the universal harmony
i KNOW you
you KNOW me
(adam and eve........ in the garden)
adam and eve and fertility
-----------
the "logos")
the open movement of moments of love
Jul 29, 2010
Jul 29, 2010 at 12:42 PM UTC
My mind is a bull-fight, semi manifested. Half-realized and halfway through a lingering emotion, a hesitant atmospheric disturbance. The stadium is empty, but the perspiration of thousands of people still float. The enthusiastic screams craving blood, honour, courage; the craving for a childish narrative in which the bull represents evil, and the Matador represents the rebellious hero. The crowd knows such things don't exist. What they do know, however; is that somewhere between the
tête-à-tête
of the bull and the matador, exists a universality of understanding. An understanding that the crowd has defiantly given up on. So they do what we all do: They grasp at straws. But the crowd is not really there. And neither is the Matador, and neither are his assistants. There is only the smear of their bright, bourgeois garments dancing with exuberant flamboyance across the walls, in an obscure, enigmatic disobedience to black-line-confinement. The same distortion of form that occurs through the lens of a powerful drug; or the force of blunt pain.
The bull is adept with his horns, and their propulsion is fuelled by bovine testosterone. But his horns turn to papier-mâché, and the rage loses its direction, like when you try to escape some pursuer inside a nightmare.
And then: Revelation.
The amphitheatre is empty, there is no Matador, no enemy, no good, evil, no trouble or tranquility;
Only
Silence
Impotence
A confused bull, alone in it's thoughts, infinitely circling an empty arena, stabbing at a phantom.
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
There is unanimity in the presence of
Thought,
Desire,
and life.
There is universality in
Love,
Pain,
and shame.
A consistence of connection,
Proved by sympathy and empathy,
But humans still feel alone.
Our thought is based on what we've known,
Our desire based o how we've grown,
and life is just a thing we do, it's vague.
I know, but it's true.
Love is often unrequited,
Pain divergent in attack,
Shame is often isolating,
and a façade of loneliness is left.
But listen, speak, relate, and think,
Widen your perspective.
We can change the world someday,
Because we're different yet still connected
a.s.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 1:33 AM UTC
Everything Is Autobiography
Everything is autobiography.
And why not?
Ourselves inside
Is all we’ve got:
Ourselves, our lives,
Our unique lot –
Why let it rot?
Everything that heals is good.
Every healing means is food.
The only means that comes for free,
The has universality,
That’s there, for those with eyes, to see,
That’s there on call effortlessly
Is my peculiar history
And your autobiography.
Everything Is Autobiography 10.26.1991/revised 3.8.2020
Nature Of & In, In & Of Reality; I Is Always You Is We;
Arlene Corwin
Mar 8, 2020
Mar 8, 2020 at 5:45 PM UTC
Hearts, not heralded in art,
Are broken, mended,
Beating, fragile and still.
We are surrounded;
The unknown to know
The aches and pleasures,
The confusion with love and despair,
Remorse and resentment;
The empty longings,
The burning fulfilment.
Cave walls, train trestles and sidewalks
Are sprayed in verses of universality.
The coupling, birthing and dying
Are the continuous unison that endures
Through the elasticity of love.
Ready to wrap the unravelling.
Our teeth may become straws,
Our ears pinholes,
Our eyes pinwheels,
Our skulls pinheads,
Our bodies pincushions;
But keep heart.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
) :: O :: (
//// • |||
<>
( • ) ( •. )
//////
In praise of DIVINUS
//
I walk with measured steps
Thru the childhood days
Past the **** heads dying in the park
Thru to the cutters and the depressed kids
Who write of lovelessness
Here on hello poetry
///
On the brink of World War III
Wounded to the very heart
Telling of the pain of Loneliness
( Such deep and penetrating loneliness. )
••
The tenemented poverty
The isolation
The continuous onslaught
The reverberations
The utter lack of hope
The utter abandonment of faith
/:/
The frighten refusal to see
The universality of the dissolution
The pandering to collectivity
The "me-too" egoism
That says
Sadness is enough
misery is qualification enough
The lack of rebelliousness
The turning of suffering into normalcy
The steady worship of authority
The denial that there will be a reckoning tomorrow
••
All the hippies are gone
Replaced by violent lovers and *** addled addicts
The plight of lemmings
Going over the cliff
Into the sea
///
Dear people
There is
Something
Much better
Much finer
Neater
More holy
And satisfying
Than to simply
await death
While telling each other
Nothing of significance
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 1:17 AM UTC
Peak experiences are now
Flashes of allusions;
The universality thing,
But not spiritual or metaphysical,
The minute and grand have equality,
Or none are equal.
The tree is free from adjectives,
A birdsong nest is superfluous.
Nest will suffice.
When I hear your name
We are together again.
I can't pass a hedge
Without remembering the push,
The old gap;
It's the push.
There's the poem.
The push.
Each thought a particle,
All particles experiences.
Try it now. No descriptors.
Eyes. Airplane. Clouds.
(but the story continues):
Airplane. Sunshine. Kiss.
(there's the peak)
Each word a peak experience.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 8:36 PM UTC
Intelligent believers of democracy,
Let me inform you with a great surge of emotion that I am a candidate in this election
I beg you, request you, beseech you to make us win with great majority by casting every vote of yours for our symbol
I don’t have to recount the great services rendered by our logo in houses, by-lanes, churches, temples, offices, hotels- why, in buses, hospitals, monasteries, cemeteries, and every nook and corner of the land
About its great desire to fill even the stomachs of those little children who sleep along the roadside, with no one to look after them
Our sign cannot ignore the mothers and sisters who work in factories of sighs, with only half their stomachs full. That’s why even after being totally spent, it resurrects itself again and again.
Its social sense which decries that even those bodies on hospital beds, half-burnt, should get justice.
Wont the dead have unquenched desires
Just like the living?
The greatness of our emblem and its universality which embraces unborn babies, the living and the dead, without any consideration of caste or creed or ***
About its reproducibility, the sense with which it can raise or lower itself as the opportunity demanded, its will power which helps it work with a passion, its power to please, its divine gift to give peace and happiness
What about its readiness to sacrifice even the last drop? It thinks only about giving! Please do not fall into the traps of the other signs which are never satisfied whatever it got, and which are ready to split any moment.
Let me ask you, have we come first in anything? China is standing like its great wall..let me remind you that if everyone tried together to raise our symbol to great heights, we can at least come first in population
Please do not let go of the chance to win, listing unpolitical arguments like headache, hunger, hatred etc
Our slogan
Contentment for everyone from children to old people
A land where milk flows
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC
( • )
/) (\
/\
Who ... (?)
•
Some wonder
Some simply -- die easily
--
( I see you die easily )
••
Wandering on
Out to where the truth stills lives
and lovers meet
••
( the fabled Diner at the edge of Town )
/-/
There are stories of pure children there
As they travel their--- road
••
•
We
Trying to gather all humanity together
Amid the universality of Law
Let ourselves be known
Each unto each
••
Angelic and humanly vulnerable
Before the tide of war and hate
••
Welcoming all
Inviting all
Unto the wisdom that defines --- our fate
Armed with knowledge and belief
•
Serving that which wills to create
Loving people everyone
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
i wonder where it is your ****** metaphors come from
when you say things like "she tastes like strawberries."
i am disenchanted miscarried
by what you are trying
to say, if anything.
this
social significance of a tangy fruit ripe for harvest- tiny for your convenience. connotations of innocence to sensuality, *** lips
if it is literal. evoking a certain tube of tacky lipbalm that finds itself applied tastelessly and often-
a certain perplexing exclusivity of diet.
or at least a strong penchant for the thing, that.
or if virginal.
recalling imagery of children's clothing- characters and franchises similarly swimming in the same shared canon of bad symbolism.
if you try to push us
into displeasure. violence. or grunge.
to challenge the peacefulness or comfort of normalcy.
shock us.
bring me somewhere
that would be better poetry.
i've read you like: all of you-
a thousand times from anywhere. any time
some might say the universality is its highest honor-
sign of its perfection and
truth.
it is not.
lazy.never real
long bereft of impulse
it makes you feel good because you are told it makes you feel good,
brought up with it.
watered down by it
like many other things.
devoid of specificity or idiosyncrasy
and the imagery of the DD/lg goes wayside.
though fetishist art, at its norm, becomes insular and self pleasuring
(just as fresh strawberries)
it can still be used as a tool when used to break away from expectation
as long as you don't let it become itself.
for it is just as average as anything else:
falling into a bad creepy pasta.
reading the news on a phone app.
unjustly scolding a cashier.
telling a girl that her skirt is too short at her bestfriend's father's funeral.
parents driving offspring to suicide through religion and therapy.
they belong to you.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 11:47 PM UTC
I am me,
the product of timeless eternity.
You are you
for whom wisdom created earth's beauty.
We are
citizens of great universality.
Let us
make it a place in which Love is the rule.
There are those
who would of a whim destroy nations
Bring to quick
end proven power of regeneration.
You friend
are he who can change course of history.
I am she who
though weak can add the weight needed.
We individually can make a difference
which is believable.
Together humanity will alter the past if
they choose lasting peace.
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 8:21 AM UTC
A is for all, over which I govern,
B is for brighter as is every tomorrow,
C is for children whom I shepherd kindly,
D is for damnation, now ye fear.
E is for everything which I created,
F is for fun which is limited,
G is for goodness which triumphs,
H is for happiness; a quaint idea,
I is for ignorance, I loathe it so,
J is for jolly as are my followers,
K is for knowing of which I have all,
L is for laughter, the sweetest song,
M is for malevolence which I condemn,
N is for no-one who I will not forgive,
O is for omnipotence which I wield sparingly,
P is for poverty, which is a necessity,
Q is for quiet where the angels sing,
R is for religion, all tied together,
Sis for stolen like my purity,
T is for thieving which demons do,
U is for universality,
V is for your voracious appetites,
W is for worldliness supreme,
X is for X-rays, a simple discovery,
Y is for you who I love,
Z is for zero, a notion blessed.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
I once was a child born of two worlds not one
Fleeing a fate I can’t see, one I can not outrun
A shell of a person, a spirit with no soul
A creature foreign to all with no place and no role
Every person I met left me scared and perplexed
Life seemed easy to them, but I always felt vexed
This emotional logic and conventional wisdom
Was beyond comprehension and often quite fearsome
I could not understand why I did not fit in
Was there something I’d done, an unforgivable sin
Or was I missing a piece of what you call humanity
Leaving me broken and taken by insanity
Then at night when the world left me all to myself
I saw through the darkness the hand I was dealt
But though clear as mid day I saw spirits walk by
They never paid notice, never batted an eye
I was part of both worlds but only through chains
I was stuck as a being that nothing could explain
So I tried to reach out to the spirits of the night
Maybe they could give wisdom, and make my path right
I invited them in and I tried to ask questions
But their language was harsh, and all I got were impressions
So I struggled through nights, and I struggled through days
Trying to make sense of this thickening haze
Then one day a being of great power and need
Approached me in slumber and talked of being freed
I was offered a choice that would shatter reality
Save a life and be given a sense of normality
This being would soon die, and I learned I would too
I had skirted existence, and both worlds ran me through
But if we were to merge, like two sides of a coin
We could split our existence, and one world we would join
I would never know fully the truth of my existence
But with a connection I could close one distance
I could focus on the day, learning wisdom and mortality
Knowing through it all I would give up universality
Though my choice was not easy, I made up my mind
To make two worlds collapse, and exist through mankind
So these words are for you, in eternal celebration
May we both forever more be free from isolation
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC
it’s fuzzling (fuzzy n’ puzzling)
this pizza emoji broad based, across
all ages, ubiquitous and beloved to
all, universality
it’s meaningful to the otherwise
meaningless noise that emotional
connoisseur connotations that replace
what used to be called conversation
so this Valentine’s Day, my beloved
will receive her extra thin crust mozzarella
plain, (I pay more for less!) replacing her
dalliance trials with various margarita pizzas
The kids, with greater appreciation for
the creative sudy of pizza design have
some crazy notions that are toothy shocking
to reveal herein publicly
the weighty concerns of the underlying
true meaning of this caricature is beyond
my ken, I’ll wiggle away gracefully and
please please an extra cheese variation
with barbecue sauce?
P. S. YES, yes, this indeed is an
only love poem of course
Feb 13, 2025
Feb 13, 2025 at 2:53 PM UTC