"unknowingness" poems
Countdowns have always seemed bittersweet to me..
The steady ticking away of time
The trickle of sand through the hourglass.
The fading of connections not curated.
I’ve always been morbidly aware of my own doomsday clock,
Slowly beating, decreasing, releasing my
Seconds into the atmosphere around me,
As I wait, sometimes impatiently, for it to hit zero.
Some days, I hope for my hourglass to run dry,
And while I know that that isn’t a healthy mindset,
Some days it is all that I can do to not hurry it along.
Not to take that revolver in my dad’s lockbox,
Not to take those pills in the medicine cabinet,
Not to take that rope and the one wobbly stool
that has sat at our bar for the past five years…
Just beckoning me.
Just wanting me to take that final step
into sweet, sweet oblivion.
But.
If I do take that final step..
Who would be there to pick up the pieces for them?
To clean up the mess that this disgusting body left behind?
Who would be there to finish my paintings,
To sing my unsung list that is ever-expanding,
To write these words that have seemed so forced these past months?
Who would be there for them, when I could not be?
Someone, I am sure, but I have been told that I am irreplaceable,
And while I may not believe that,
I am scared of leaving a mess behind
That my mother cannot bring herself to clean up.
I am scared of leaving behind a mess that would irrevocably break my father,
A mess that would torment my brothers,
A mess that my sisters would never even remember.
And maybe..
Maybe I am scared of the call of oblivion..
Or scared of the unknowingness of it all, rather.
Or perhaps I am tired of thinking
of myself as a mess to be cleaned up,
Nothing more, and nothing less.
And maybe
That is all I need
To survive one more day.
Apr 18, 2023
Apr 18, 2023 at 11:32 PM UTC
I belong to the wilderness
and the highest peaks
to the depths of the ocean
the same language we speak
To the blossoms of spring
and the summers’ breeze
I belong to a single blade of grass
and every rustling of leaves
To endless starlit nights
and the hope rising with dawn
With every bird taking flight
I belong to their song
I belong to the love
of a soulmates heart
and to the bitter anguish
that tore us apart
To the carefree laughter
of children at play
I belong to the fear they conceal
and their hope for a better day
I belong to the infinite yearning
of my place on this Earth
and to the unknowingness
and complexity of my timely birth
To my physical features
and the boldness of my eyes
I belong to this body
and why it keeps me alive
I belong not to my emotions
nor heartache or bliss
I belong to the intricacies of wisdom
and forever trust in its abyss
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 3:33 PM UTC
River rushing from left to right
with all its unstoppable might
The only stellar source for sustaining life
plants and photosynthisis
the way this life really is
The sound of water
and the link between
mother and father
The rise and fall of the moonlit tides
by the light of night the pedals shine
Digital noises penatrate the morning stillness
as the bacon and eggs sizzle behind us
Coffee and camping to connect the sexs again
back to basics and simplicity
avoid the tempation
to loose yourself in the city
Rivers loose their natural flow
****** and restricted
divided by fear and dought
The wanting of
more and better
to keep us going
We should be sitting quietly
with an innocent unknowingness
the tree sap drizzles
as the wind whistles
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 8:22 PM UTC
There is science to a broken heart
When the heart strings that connect the valves of your soul collapse
When the veins are full and heavy with the weight of let downs and false promises
When your bones ache the same as a near fatal injury
Know that it is not a phantom pain
Not an empty longing
For a temporary someone
You mistook as permanence
The ghosts of their skin forever
haunting with their former touch
The pain of a ruptured spirit
Is equal to that of being hit by a truck
Going full speed down the highway
Lights off
No warning signs
Is equal to the pain associated with The inability to forget
You place a do not enter sign around your heart
Next to the caution tape
Marked on your skin
The science to a broken heart
Can not be found
In an anatomical enclyopedia
But it's existence
Is not to be questioned
Heartbreak has been researched
Enscribed by historys greatest
For fitzgerald felt the blows to his being
From love that thrashed with winds and currents
A hurricane
Often the subject of their own experiments,
Writers are the scientists who study broken hearts
Words used as algorythms
Attempting to respond to
Questions we might never get an answer to
We're often left wondering
And often time its suffice
Because if we were to know why
Why the sun aches for the moon When the moon only has love for the stars
Why the theory of newton and gravity
Will never account for humans falling
Why storms are named after people
If we knew
We might not expose ourself to said research
We like the unknowingness
That science has yet to offer a conclusion to
The unknowingness that is often synonymous
With love.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 10:22 AM UTC
Doubt.
Disco.
Dreams.
Life.
Liberty.
The Pursuit Of Happiness.
Pepsi.
Gangsters.
God.
Rare.
Archaic.
Words.
Shadows.
Red.
Light.
Unknowingness.
Tears.
Pain.
Undercover.
Beauty Queens.
Degenerates.
Open Eyes.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
I feel the shadow of your obscurity,
and though nothing is yet lost, I
drown myself in the unknowingness
of your already sunken eyes.
-Sandoval
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 3:06 AM UTC
Cataclysmic act of craving;
Driven by the motive of unknowingness,
Those made of the urges
May befriend the style of heaving,
longing, surging, sighing,moaning, knowing, embracing,
Till the matter becomes an acquaintance
Of sour taste, however intimidating.
Those of the taste shall still be unknowingly,
For the oblivion is its lifelong fool,
For thee head either towards a truth or hither a reasonable rue.
Beware the promise of the sky!
Where it shelters both the moon and the stardust;
However the course it cries,
It fosters and cloisters the air with seemingly glitter at night.
Though the gush never sweeps away the moon and the sun,
The leaves will still sway melancholically,
however tremble, with which they die.
They own thereof rhythm
Of the notes, strung by the wind.
May thy sea heave away by the sun,
Then 'tis her feet thumping by the moon.
(As it wears a repute of its own undying gloom.)
Stand thy ground, then dance hither their gravity
As you crave beyond thy own truth.
Those of the desire,
Aught to drown in a minute shade of its own very blue.
Then,
They may befriend the rules of heaving, crying, trying, accepting,
And the art of letting the flow, hopelessly and incessantly, in.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 3:25 PM UTC
It was back in those days, the elementary school days,
when we were all friends, characters to one anothers plays of nonsense.
When we reigned over puddles with galoshes or brightly coloured gumboots.
When we wore capes and knew all the sing along songs.
And yes, I do recall, fondly so, that big park.
We were all there, whether in soul or in spirit,we explored the butterfly gardens, our parents and teachers were there too,
a school trip of sorts?
Just a vivid but fotgotten dream?
Who may answer these questions but ourselves by eventually succumbing to the universes natural way and forgetting the questions and finding and accepting the universes other answers.
The flowers of the light May day were in full bloom and that glass greenhouse, the one that intrigued me so, stood just like a castle.
After lunch, when the children were running throuhg green grass or wiping sticky hands from oranges upon the damper grass of the shade and while our parents and teachers sat on their coats dilly dallying, I stopped.
Stopped from my playing like a bunny caught in someones eyes. Was it a hand that grabbed mine or mine that reached out? Lead to a rivers edge, a little stream or pond. Ducking under willow and stepping over bushes and creeping through imagined dens of foxes or coyotes. My companion, my little friend, the face on the memory is blank, perhaps we had even more company.
We held hands.
We held hands like friends in our childhood innocence, before the concept of cooties, before the playground held terror. We sat hunched up by the pond poking sticks and reeds into the stream. Poking at the river flies and mud. Lost in a mystic realm of childhood unknowingness.
And then it caught me. A glimpse that magnified. The little water spider, gliding on the surface as though the surface were glass.
Oh water bug, from my bright eyes and blurred warm memeory you stood out to me. Majestically skating in the reflection of my face. As though you were that man mentioned in grandfathers stories from the book he said he beleived in, that man himself, walking on water. Such grace and beauty in you're perfectly casual stride, a quality I later noticed and looked for in people. Oh water bug, slipping your little bug fingers through glassy streams like a figure skater on an ice pond.
Do you remember me little bug? I was the one, the one with the little hands reaching out. I tried to hold your magic in my hands.
I was the one that in awe
reached out
But like a snap dragon,
in a blink, you were gone.
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 7:14 PM UTC
Dreamily the stardust gathers
Deep inside black
Soulful vibrations exploding like candy
The clouds shades colors of light
Erasing the burnt toast
Upside-down I am
I have lost part of me
Inside the ocean
Down the hole
Into unknowingness
A place shied away from
A pool closed for winter
Guarded by walls of swords
Cut my sides open
Fall into a blueness
The future in a fog coat
Can't remember even being here
I've lost the time of day
And the sun and moon
Mysteriously disappear
And appear again
A want of the flutter of wings
A loss of gravity
Landing on the floor
To see the white shine
And glowing stardust
To dive into a place
Of youthful adventure
Of roaring fires
Of heightened senses
Of quiet glances
The words twisting my spine
The thoughts racing mind
Can't describe
Lost in a place
A dance in slow motion
A blender blending
Our souls into smoothies
And I know I'm alone here
Swallowed in my own fear
The glass breaks and falls
Only those claws
Scratch a bone within
Begging to let you in.
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 3:33 PM UTC
Smoke fills my lungs as I walk down this lonely path,
where I was going… no one knows,
“Oh fur so white, so bright, so bright,”
“What?”
I would simply say and walk away into the unknowingness left of yesterday.
“Oh eyes so light, so white, so white,”
“What?”
I scrambled to catch my breath, not pausing to see what was left.
But down this uncharted path, unbeknown to the lost sheep,
was the wrath of the eyes lurking throughout wilderness,
longing to covet her wool all to themselves….
Waiting for one misstep into the cool morning light to trample upon the lost sheep at last.
Oct 30, 2024
Oct 30, 2024 at 11:29 AM UTC
BECOMING
There is always resistance to change,
the pursuit of perpetual growth,
becoming being like the moon’s
relentless phases as night gently
prints itself on world.
Soft rain falls like new thoughts
on fields dancing with spring.
What was there before and gone
is becoming once again.
Clouds drop flushed notes
on the vapor of the air,
bubbles over river pebbles
form, break, and form again.
Becoming is a song not yet heard,
melodies promising wishes of
unknowingness.
Becoming lies just under that
thin layer of life, those infinitely
precious seconds before what is
to be.
Jan 10, 2025
Jan 10, 2025 at 1:12 AM UTC
And so we wait
Until the day
That love shall shine upon us
Waiting, waiting,
The torturous grasp of unknowingness
Killing every ounce of will within us
When will love grace us with it's presence?
Until the day
We wait
Longing,
Loneliness fills our bodies and minds
Waiting, waiting,
Living for tomorrow;
Waiting
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 7:56 PM UTC
The moon reaches down on the utopia,
An ablaze morass sits down on the streets;
With its clement, walks through
A crowd of ignorant bliss.
The life is adamant on the visionary city,
A sigh of relief nestles on the back of the throats.
An imminence punches out the onus
That satiated the courageous float.
When the mud of unknowingness gropes the ankles
Of haltingly walking hesitation,
Among the heads full of buoyancy,
It glitters for the heinous castigation.
Do not doubt(!)
For you are smothered
In between the hands of the mud
That melts out from the heads full of
Buoyant and ignorant bliss.
Do not ever bellow!
Swallow the defiance
Down on a singeing insight,
The unknowing city never
Stumps on the muddy and deafening ground.
Do not ever hear(!)
The knell that screeches out from the heights,
The sigh of death disguised over the steps of the foolish crowd..
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 7:53 AM UTC
Let us go then
So many good times
I feel bad times
I think I'm feeling wrong
You are such a good friend
I'm moving out
And I'm worried about what will happen then
I'm not sure why you exactly spend so much time in my room
Everything is turning into that vague unknowingness
the one that drives me crazy
because nothing is ever definite
welcome to the haze
a heavy wet fog
drives me crazy
every time
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC
The black cat sat on the road of the sideways door and asked me to ask a question unanswered by the universe, for it seemed a little trepidation to ask such a stranger as me whose permanence like the door has gone beneath the waves of light and into darkness below the sun and stars, deeper than the night-cat’s fur. Yet I knew the answer and asked the question, and the stars gleamed brighter that rust, and the galaxies I saw were within the slitted eyes before my face, though I did not fall to my forgottenness in that galaxy, but lived in my ghostly form, unanswering questions of old and trying not to remember my thoughts. The cat was unknown to me after that, the tail like a feather duster leaping among the moons of my world, crowing down at me from branches and constellations. I wonder how the universe would think of such a black cat, one who does not mind the coldness of ghosts or stars, or the unknowingness of such things, and who asks for askers and questions them until the dust settles and transforms around it.
Aug 27, 2020
Aug 27, 2020 at 10:06 PM UTC
Out of this world I suppose
The thing I wanted
The thing I craved
Is nothing beneath the surface
Should I really be here?
People whispering
People gathering
People hardworking
Just to achieve something they...
Thought they need
Are we really in this world just to play along?
When I was a kid, all I thought was
Everything we step on
The grass, the ground, even the mud outside
Was all part of a big playground
Where we are tested
Looked upon, and judged
Others always ask,
"How can I be truly happy?"
Which is I second the motion
Things, foods, places
People always find the way to achieve that kind of feeling
Even when it takes to let themselves be lost
Can I ask,
How can we truly end this?
All this suffering, sadness, unknowingness
Without getting depressed on how will we do it?
The solution?
Out of this world, I suppose
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 11:39 PM UTC
There’s a knowing kind of unknowingness
when you count on the sun to rise
or feel the moonlight dance behind the clouds
and fear not your own demise.
There’s a peaceful sort of slumber
between this world and the next
where truth and beauty forever dwell
and people are never vexed.
It is a world invisible
to eyes that only see
the ****** deeds and manmade things
of our society.
For in the world of love what counts
beyond the temporal you or me,
is all of us within one Heart
embracing the world eternally.
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 5:56 PM UTC
Unknowingness, turmoil.
Conundrum around.
Wrapped up in dilemmas.
Sinking. into mess all over.
Urge to know all happenings
Struggle to unwind each loop.
Choosing and then falling,
into pit. one at a time.
Tiring yourself. Again.
And again. And again.
With futile efforts dear.
Fruitlessly, knocking doors.
All these are not important...
It's okay to not know.
You're not here.
To know each **** thing.
Let the things happen.
Let the stones be unturned.
It's good to taste,
the dilemmas. sometimes.
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 6:36 PM UTC