"unlearning" poems
Tossing and turning.
Unlearning abusive systems and relearning loving skills.
Becoming a dream keeper as a rebellious angel child anything is possible.
So I am very soulfully strong and heart-meltingly adorable.
I provide nightmares for my worst enemies.
And sweet dreams for my dearest friends.
Anyone in the middle is going to live with their political aspirations.
May 31, 2022
May 31, 2022 at 3:07 PM UTC
*The blue song bird
mellifluous singer admired
for her songs that melt
even hearts of rock,
riding the crust
of the adoring wind,
swoop,
down,
down,
down
without a thought
suddenly alights,
heroically tries to sit,
on a high tension power line;
yet another of her
impromptu acts like before,
she labors to convince everyone
in a shrill chirping sound
that dangerously she lives
taking life in her own hands.
East wind, her companion tells
she is mistaken; he tries to push
her away from the lethal wire
on which death awaits with its dark hum
"young and wayward bird
you tell me you learn so quickly
from your mistakes, alright
from now and the moment next
lies an unknown chasm
in a jiffy if you decide to fathom it
no time is left for unlearning what it teaches
and reverse your journey
to the winter land of darkness
from where no migratory bird has ever come back"
The bird so deaf to wind's words,
still hovers above the wire
the wind in warning hums a sad tune aloud.*
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 11:18 AM UTC
forward forward forward
going somewhere moving forward
whether progressing or regressing
growing or unlearning
coming or going
living, dying
everyone believes they are moving towards something
and as everything happens all at once
each perceptive reality is entirely different than any other
and each consciousness travels, and does, and is.
each consciousness believes it has a purpose or a path.
the purpose is not to see into nor plan the future.
from the civilian to the hero tv shows and movies
have consistently glorified the ability to see visions of the future
generally this is followed by someone trying to prevent
the happenings in said vision from becoming reality
and distinctly failing because they "saw into" the future
that their own energy influenced
but the true super power is to be able to look into the past.
to prevent the omitting of details and data
to avoid a rewrite of our conscious interaction with this planet
not to white out the chapters that bear the truth in the textbooks
to recall history so it does not repeat itself
my question is then
do people disguise the wrongdoings of those hidden by the passing of time?
because they are ashamed of the mistakes of their ancestors pasts?
because they are ashamed of their participation in past consciousness's?
because they are ashamed of the atrocities humans have inflicted upon each other and themselves as well as their home planet since the beginning of recorded time here?
or do those who have the power to omit and hide history
purposely rewrite it?
do they mask the pains of the past so the rest of us will forget?
so that even they can forget?
so their next consciousness can unknowingly, while predestined,
have hand in crimes against the world all the same as committed in the lost past?
how many times has someone written these words
or a similar combination
only to delete the post?
burn the pages?
backspace the message?
stop themselves from speaking them aloud?
cover the symbols?
pass out of conscious living mid sentence?
lose them to a past lifetime?
how many times has this cycled through the same way?
how many times have I been me?
how many times have you been me?
how many times have I been anyone?
how many times have I been?
is there a rhythm or is it all as scattered and random
as the thoughts that bring you
to this kind of an understanding of the habit of misunderstanding?
the kind of thoughts that bring you back to the birds nest because you were too early for even the worm?
they will all catch up eventually
after all they all think theyre moving forward
and they don't even know where they've been.
they don't even know that they've been.
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
you make so much sense
amidst the tangled vines of
learning and unlearning
please don’t go before i get better
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 5:03 PM UTC
for the longest time
i thought i needed to
return to the child
i was.
i spent half my life
unlearning trauma,
only to lose sight
on the woman
i wanted to become.
Sep 16, 2025
Sep 16, 2025 at 11:06 AM UTC
Learning and unlearning
Goes in full circle
Learning is the pathway anybody is supposed to take
Nowadays information is packaged in the way to us
That unlearning has also been one of the essentials
Learning neither has a start
Learning nor has an end
The learning to unlearn
Is a most nowadays
Unlearning
A kind of learning too
Learning is a process
A never ending process
But one supposes it to be an effect
Hence we aim learning
Supposedly has some destined milestone
So we take a step to learn
A scenario
Not perceiving that learning is a process
But a destiny to achieve
Leads to a controlled way of knowing
Only limited things
That we already planned to know
Here we know things
But only that are predestined
But don't learn about what is going around
And not learn what really learning process is
The controlled way of such learning
Leads to limited perspective
And limited ways of thinking
A scenario
What was to be learned
Was gathered previously
Hence the accomplishments such ways
Brings about the sense of pride
And oneself attaches to it
The attachment now leads the learning to stop
Gradually within oneself
As the long awaited accomplishment is achieved
There may not be room for further learning
As hard work has been done already
Creativity tends to vanish
Ego sets to feel in and within.
The time passes on
Some years go by
Time's they are changing
Oneself is in the same state of knowledge as before
No creativity endures
There resides the gap of the learning and knowledge
Brings about the gap in understanding
Now it demands to having the before learned unlearn
This only sets the room for learning
In the present and the time to come
Hence, a full circle
Of learning and unlearning
A fresh start
Trying to learn
Now the learning goes on and on
And on and on
It does not have a destiny to accomplish
It goes on to eternity
The true learning begins
The oneself now feels no pride
But humility and kindness in learning
Is the sole path of learning
A sole path to awakening.
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 11:10 AM UTC
A cactus he loved, all he saw was beauty in her,
the fascinating patterns,were engagingly intriguing,
she sought his thorns, to naturally reciprocate,
to love him, the way she always had known that art.
Never could she find, even one, however she tried,
thorns weren't his attraction, was she disappointed?
she had to learn love transactions, eliminating thorns,
then, everything in place had fallen one by one.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 9:12 AM UTC
I’m curious about your experience of time. Do you feel like life is moving really quickly? Is your music one way to sort of turn it over and reflect on it?
WILLOW SMITH: I mean, time for me, I can make it go slow or fast, however I please, and that’s how I know it doesn’t exist.
JADEN SMITH: It’s proven that how time moves for you depends on where you are in the universe. It’s relative to beings and other places. But on the level of being here on earth, if you are aware in a moment, one second can last a year. And if you are unaware, your whole childhood, your whole life can pass by in six seconds. But it’s also such a thing that you can get lost in.
How have you gotten better?
WILLOW SMITH: Caring less what everybody else thinks, but also caring less and less about what your own mind thinks, because what your own mind thinks, sometimes, is the thing that makes you sad.
JADEN SMITH: Exactly. Because your mind has a duality to it. So when one thought goes into your mind, it’s not just one thought, it has to bounce off both hemispheres of the brain. When you’re thinking about something happy, you’re thinking about something sad. When you think about an apple, you also think about the opposite of an apple. It’s a tool for understanding mathematics and things with two separate realities. But for creativity: That comes from a place of oneness. That’s not a duality consciousness. And you can’t listen to your mind in those times — it’ll tell you what you think and also what other people think.
WILLOW SMITH: And then you think about what you think, which is very dangerous.
Do you think of your new music as a continuation of your past work?
JADEN SMITH: That’s another thing: What’s your job, what’s your career? Nah, I am. I’m going to imprint myself on everything in this world.
What are the things worth having?
WILLOW SMITH: A canvas. Paint. A microphone.
JADEN SMITH: Anything that you can shock somebody with. The only way to change something is to shock it. If you want your muscles to grow, you have to shock them. If you want society to change, you have to shock them.
WILLOW SMITH: That’s what art is, shocking people. Sometimes shocking yourself.
So is the hardest education the unlearning of things?
WILLOW SMITH: Yes, basically, but the crazy thing is it doesn’t have to be like that.
JADEN SMITH: Here’s the deal: School is not authentic because it ends. It’s not true, it’s not real. Our learning will never end. The school that we go to every single morning, we will continue to go to.
WILLOW SMITH: Forever, ‘til the day that we’re in our bed.
JADEN SMITH: Kids who go to normal school are so teenagery, so angsty.
WILLOW SMITH: They never want to do anything, they’re so tired.
WILLOW SMITH: I went to school for one year. It was the best experience but the worst experience. The best experience because I was, like, “Oh, now I know why kids are so depressed.” But it was the worst experience because I was depressed.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 7:51 AM UTC
Our fleeting presence
Across this cosmic path
Life’s enormous
We, but minuscule travelers
Running errands
One destination, many situations
Challenges and trials
New visitors, ancient places
Unknown fellow travelers
Learning and unlearning
None of us aware
About the origins
Pursuing relentlessly
For answers that elude us
Our errands shall end
Our presence will be
Wiped away by the winds
Nature’s being
Shall return to nature
This cosmic enigma is constant
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
My soul craves world peace.
Where us vs them will cease to exist.
We all have a heart that loves and assists.
But that's not enough they demand more than this.
Banned from the land.
Banned from the bliss.
Will this greed ever be dismissed?
Kneel to the system run on conflict of interest.
That makes you depend, look outside take a glimpse.
Understand all was planned.
Sleight of hand and they took control of motherland.
Birds, raised and caged by misconceptions.
Domesticated under their wings with things we're supposed to do.
Force fed beliefs, here you go this is true.
And the government grew.
Conditioned by the cards you drew.
Game of theories made to modify you.
Now, who are you?
With a pencil, they drew a mask on you.
We miss the point.
We don't know intentions.
We yearn for acceptance.
We follow without question.
New age with a prescribed perception.
But these are your lenses.
I won't be caged.
I won't be a bird in.
I hope you to spread your wings and start unlearning.
Now you can fly and won't be a servant.
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 7:00 PM UTC
Redlight running faster than the words I left unsaid
and in the tides of sirens I lay broken with nothing left
Looking through those shattered windows, pained eyes
Watch the hands that healed now bloodstained leave their sight
My sight
Choking on the ashes of the house we built
The world stood silent and the oceans filled
With sweat and tears paired with heartache that no one else could feel
and memories scared with sorrow of which these wounds may never heal
Let them heal
just let me heal
Gasping for the surface giving all I have
Escape the grave of suffering with my last breath
So convinced by bitterness that I may never love again
But I'll stand strong against the gods because thats just who I am
But its not for you
It never could be
and its so hard with every step we're unlearning
this house of cards is burning
burning
Down
What do the gods know
of humanity
to be unlovable
Thanks for convincing me
That I will die alone
Hurt the ones that mean the most and no one in this world was
Meant
For
Me
And its not for you
It never will be
and its so hard with every step I'm unlearning
But my hearts caught fire
and its burning, burning now.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 3:20 PM UTC
There’s nothing worse than a girl desperate for love:
A girl that pities herself enough to think she is so intrinsically broken
she couldn’t even connect with someone biologically destined to love her;
A girl stupid enough to learn that love is a reward that she must earn,
yet frantic enough to always work too hard for it;
A girl that overcompensates. Begs. Forces.
A girl that claims she ‘Doesn’t know what to do with love’
when it comes along, so that, naturally, she can smother it;
A girl who’s biggest fear is abandonment, yet is an expert on expecting too much;
A girl that’s waiting to be saved, but would tell you she doesn’t deserve it;
A girl that still obsesses over ways she has been bruised
when surrounded by people that have helped her heal;
A girl who’s self involved, with no sense of self;
A girl that cries. And cries. And cries.
There’s nothing worse than a girl desperate for love.
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 6:26 PM UTC
Along the shoreline
cigarettes and red wine my only company,
dry seaweed as stranded as me,
and yet.
I am surrounded by the sounds of the ocean and its waves and the crashing of the shingle,my spine begins to tingle and excitement builds inside me as I rush to write some poetry,
my only company.
Tide turning,stomach churning,bridge burning,more yearning and unlearning the past as the waters recede,
and like the ocean I need that respite from the constant.
I pour one more glass knowing that this time like all time will pass and await the return.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 2:03 AM UTC
Why
When we were children,
Were we given
A pile of wooden blocks,
To help us count
Add up, take away,
Spell our name and scream it out,
To build and balance
As tall as possible a tower.
And when it fell over,
Rebuild and rebalance.
But so many of us just
Threw the blocks at each other
And cried when one hit us
In the eye
So-
When we were given the oceans and sky,
It wasn't long before we had
Ruined more than we had learned-
A continent of gnarled, congealed plastic
Floating in our graying heaven's reflection.
And given the forests,
We build either twelve-room-summer homes or else
So many billion disposable chopsticks.
We grew up unlearning and grow old crying while
Our children ask us
Why? Why? Why?
Were you so selfish for so long?
Because
Children, blocks,
don't come with instructions.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 3:29 AM UTC
In youth
It came as a flood
Almost senseless with
the rush of expression
Pouring from my hand;
It could not keep pace with
the ceaseless deluge from my mind
Half-formed coherency
No thought paid to the rules of
Grammar, Spelling, Paragraphs
Just a wrenching of the soul
that demanded ink.
Years later, studies of
Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Tennyson
A mind full of words that
are not my own, I am
Senseless with the inability
to break this learned dam. Now
nothing comes out right.
My mind, it burns
and burns and burns
But nothing ever takes aflame.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 9:55 PM UTC
it's a short dance
between the night and, say
the morning
dreamy hope
moon trance
missing heartbeats
scary haunting prowls
distant shards of darkness
and a soft release
with a hint of silence.
My drugged fantasy
follows the rhyme masters:
trans-Atlantic dwellers
icy treasure keepers
sights of sacred mountains
and powerful embracing
(never self-effacing)
of half-life, half-death.
My pen poised and struggles:
such a crazy evening
such seductive welcome
sights perfectly imagined
and accomplished howls
of the gospel sayings.
I'm a northern demon
painting ashen skies
as I watch vampires of dark past returning.
Such a hard unlearning:
memories
are future souls burning
that whisper to us
through the ancient dust
of painless forgetting
freedom fragments chasing
precious bonds of wisdom,
perfect dreamy angels.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 11:17 AM UTC
once upon a time
you were the moon to my stars
which is to say, you didn't know
how to shine without dimming me in the process
and yes, you sat me in your lap to feed me off your fork
but then, you always had a way of presenting scraps as
a reward
and presentation is everything, right?
no, you never truly left me bleeding
instead, my heart and mind were carefully extrapolated
blended together until they looked like the color of your eyes,
and gently poured back in place
how do you know which pieces go where?
how can I know without you?
Oct 16, 2021
Oct 16, 2021 at 1:07 PM UTC
The crucifix inked on my neck burns me
A reminder of the ***** that stunted me.
Free will denied when imposed too young
The deception felt a lot like grief.
If I put a gun to His head
Maybe new meaning can be brought,
To a stain no amount of unlearning can excuse.
- don’t worry
Jesus isn’t dead, he’s ridin’ a unicorn to Narnia
20.04.14
Cuba
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 12:37 PM UTC
does long-sought summer simmer
more with yearning?
should not a reckless desire unbound
plead for unlearning?
does not a whisper of a breeze upon a scorched blacktop race
through the stillness of youth,
fickly departing without a trace?
these things shall pass, only while they're good
as the expanse of outside
accelerates beyond youth's neighborhood
and a last enduring moment clings
for dear life as it darts between
time and space upon nostalgia's wings.
it is only after the last drop of lunar luster
upon the chilled earth dissipates
that rich amber rays sprawl from a horizon
such that the night falls and dawn breaks
and so should not the end of one story
plead for another to awaken from slumber?
as one smile fades should there not be
another to turn back the first day of summer?
Now I've grown,
Yes, summer was that smile.
Sep 16, 2021
Sep 16, 2021 at 4:38 AM UTC
in terms of a cyclops: it's one extreme
or another...
a cyclops can never be cross-eyed,
it can never be blurry for him -
even when the tip-of-the-nose
is just that,
having two eyes
is enough to see two sides of
an argument with the precision
of aquatic optics - blurry today,
blurry tomorrow -
nibble the left,
nibble the right...
then centralised: or Newtonian -
the unlearning of gravity
for the purpose of learning
selective magnetism and a stitched-up
smile.
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 8:27 PM UTC
I feel the wanting
as you are haunting...
my lustful, needy...
greedy..
thoughts
I know I really hadn't ought
to think this way
of things to do when down we lay
and about your warm & rugged arms
keeping me from any harm
I'm swallowed by seductive charms
defenseless you're
whispering the sky my name
know of me ...my secret shame
this need...we share?
words said kerning
we're bothered,
....yearning
I am bare
for you..
I feel a need to share with you
could we face
our darkness together?
on gloomy tides of stormy weather
is written on the Dead Sea Scrolls
a love of two who seem the same,
shared in us our
heart and souls?
I have wandered far looking...
So should we
take a chance and try
instead of always wondering why?
would we
be any good for one another
a raging fire burning
unwanted things unlearning
Could we
find of pure desire
light the lovers hottest fires?
or flames go out we tamper,
smother?
left smoldering
shouldering our way,
and left...
we never learned
ready to rise
and ready to
.....be BURNED?
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 5:05 PM UTC
he goes
swinging arms set on
leaning shoulders and
feet that climb pavement
every step
taking inches before miles before the span of her heart
infected with a childhood
an unfitting frame for
such words and
sometimes he feels sick,
at the size of his own hands
isthmus, island
sick at the foreignness of being
skin native to all the touches
but blood that tastes only enemies, shies away
she thinks how, how,
beautiful the white skin
light strains he looks at nothing, not her
dull eyes, white eyes,
never enough of night,
eyes
he will bend and glance
deep, to taste a bit of his own death
trapped in his clutched palm
annoyed,
she thinks what sweet bitter held hands
I don't want to be your friend
don't want to lose a friend
the child builds love where it doesn't belong, everywhere
stacking towers against God, unlearning,
the child fights, he fights
they resist and scratch and embrace
and he bends
his fingers
May 29, 2011
May 29, 2011 at 9:26 AM UTC
Imagine trying to geminate in a stony land
Aiming for the sky to be part of the constellations too
Finding a way between the stones worshiping gravity.
Imagine becoming a star, burning with curiosity,
While the gods who brought you to this world keep shooting you everywhere like a confused lightning.
Imagine your parents mapping their afterlife through your skin
Poor parents marking treasure maps to an innocent soul “KUGATA”
Imagine being taken to doors of prophets, Pastors and Sangomas,
Only to grow up hating neither.
Imagine a pregnant teenager
Who is yet to find her direction
She travelled to heaven through my eyes
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 3:09 AM UTC
Every morning I try to unlearn the universe.
It is like a yoga exercise to escape the irons of knowledge.
In 63 years your head fills with so much ********
There must be a method for purging the excess.
So far I have not been able to discover it.
I will keep trying because I want to see things fresh.
I want to hear babies cry and Mozart exhalt for the first time.
I want to enter a woman anew like a baffled 15-year-old
discovering a pleasure from which he will never want to escape.
I want to forget my over-remembered life.
I want to rediscover the salty taste of women.
I have been everywhere and am out of destinations.
I ache for the pain of a question lacking an answer.
I want to go to war again and relearn a sense of terror.
I want to experience the baffled euphoria of first love.
I want to reclaim my sense of wonder from jaded life.
Imagine the utter joy of hearing again birds for the first time.
Unlearning is so much harder than learning.
I fear not enough years remain to unknow this burden.
But I must keep at it with a vigor no longer possessed.
It is morning again in the heart of Mike Essig.
And every morning I try to unlearn the universe
simply so I might know the bliss of learning it again.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 8:40 AM UTC