"unreason" poems
It was golden and splendid,
That City of light;
A vision suspended
In deeps of the night;
A region of wonder and glory, whose temples were marble and white.
I remember the season
It dawn'd on my gaze;
The mad time of unreason,
The brain-numbing days
When Winter, white-sheeted and ghastly, stalks onward to torture and craze.
More lovely than Zion
It shone in the sky
When the beams of Orion
Beclouded my eye,
Bringing sleep that was filled with dim mem'ries of moments obscure and gone by.
Its mansions were stately,
With carvings made fair,
Each rising sedately
On terraces rare,
And the gardens were fragrant and bright with strange miracles blossoming there.
The avenues lur'd me
With vistas sublime;
Tall arches assur'd me
That once on a time
I had wander'd in rapture beneath them, and bask'd in the Halcyon clime.
On the plazas were standing
A sculptur'd array;
Long bearded, commanding,
rave men in their day—
But one stood dismantled and broken, its bearded face battered away.
In that city effulgent
No mortal I saw,
But my fancy, indulgent
To memory's law,
Linger'd long on the forms in the plazas, and eyed their stone features with
awe.
I fann'd the faint ember
That glow'd in my mind,
And strove to remember
The aeons behind; &
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Evil, Mightypower,
Overcoming, sweeping by
Tidal wave of dark.
Suppression, needless
Jealousy, unreason.
Shard of hell,
Born from earth,
And broken ceramic.
Escaping freedom,
Smashed prison.
Feeding on conceited lies,
And acts of
Eviljoy.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
These lovers’ inklings which our loves enmesh,
Lost to the cunning and dimensional eye,
Though tenemented in the selves we see,
Not more perforce than azure to the sky,
Were necromancy-juggled to the flesh,
And startled from no daylight you or me.
For trance and silvermess those moons commend,
Which blanch the warm life silver-pale; or look
What ghostly portent mist distorts from slight
Clay shapes; the willows that the waters took
Liquid and brightened in the waters bend,
And we, in love’s reflex, seemed loved of right.
Then no more think to net forthwith love’s thing,
But cast for it by spirit sleight-of-hand;
Then only in the slant glass contemplate,
Where lineament outstripping line is scanned,
Then on the perplexed text leave pondering,
Love’s proverb is set down transliterate.
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Once I dipt into the future far as human eye could see,
And I saw the Chief Forecaster, dead as any one can be--
Dead and ****** and shut in Hades as a liar from his birth,
With a record of unreason seldome paralleled on earth.
While I looked he reared him solemnly, that incandescent youth,
From the coals that he'd preferred to the advantages of truth.
He cast his eyes about him and above him; then he wrote
On a slab of thin asbestos what I venture here to quote--
For I read it in the rose-light of the everlasting glow:
"Cloudy; variable winds, with local showers; cooler; snow."
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how can you say I'm beautiful?
the fact is even I can get angry so easily sometimes...
poetry replies:
coz you haven't gotten the right channel
to express
to unfolding
coz the genuine yearning in your soul
since the first
tells
coz you as you were and are
no reason to unreason
it is just be
....
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 8:38 AM UTC
Loosing gravity, I hovered above,
The fields and woods, hills and dales,
Egrets and cranes sensing a competetor
Near gave a chase, that was nice though.
'Just a metaphor that means a search
For beauty and lasting meaning' I heard,
Who said it; unknown commentator viewing
Every movement, each moment, of universe!
What a mystery, I thought for a moment,
Not the 'I' before, but one that is aggragated,
Above the narrow limits of me,my and mine,
The cranes and herons keeping me company
Had bid goodbye, I saw palms wave hands.
Feeling comfortable with the new fecility
I flew high easy, couldn't find where I end
And the multiverse of wonders takes me over
"Aĺl I thought of me was as a visitor to this
Island of time and space, part of a whole,
But I have my sweetheart close to my heart
Near and dear, friends all over the world
Many of us never met but neighbours of
My heart, I hear them from afar and their
Heartbeat I felt mine; was an adventure this,
Love prompted, a lilting poem in progress,
Now a flow with the wind circling universe
I am ecstacy itself, time is the essence in this
Tale, told by many eyes" whispered I to
My invisible companions, winging with me.
And loomed large in my being my beloved
Moon with whom I fell madly in love in an
Age of unreason and wild infatuation.
She felt compelled to hold me close to her
***** and kissed my sweaty brows gently
A moment of oblivion, now I am one with
The sprit of universe, in thought and deed
When being becomes nothingness, bliss!
The starry nights, embellished in darkness
And light is my domain till eternity, I have
No loss or gain, what 'I was' cherished is not
Taken from me a bit, in this wingless flight
The stars, a billions lighted souls dancing
In time line far near and eternal began
To hum a celestial tune that becomes all,
That makes the universe, it moves in waves
Holds all together with love and compassion
All the rest are just tales,elements create
You and I, all the rest are myths illusory
Apparition of one and only music eternal.
Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 10:50 AM UTC
"This is the end, my friend…"
Take refuge in the Golden Years.
Retire to an inevitable monastery
plopped on a suburban mountaintop.
Immerse yourself in the lost writings
of Nikita Khrushchev and Harry S Truman.
Learn to cook gizzards and meditate.
Find solace in obsolete atomic weapons,
enlightenment in the raw, butchered
expressions of the naked thermonuclear.
Wangle, ****** fire, and maneuver.
Get in touch with your inner Eichmann.
Devour baskets of tasty deplorables.
Stop clinging to guns and religion.
Love the fascism of the ordinary.
Become content with mere content.
Stop waving daggers at the innocent.
Wash yourself in the blood of the lamb.
Accept that Woodstock was futile.
Admit you can’t get no satisfaction.
Penetrate the goddess of unreason,
and come screaming to your senses.
Declare the dawn of the Age of Onanism.
Keep your fingers out of Pandora's box.
Bid farewell to the ghost of Joe Hill.
Depart the smothering, smooth life
of lust, corn flakes, and competition.
Expand your mind in a mushroom cloud.
Travel upriver to the ****** of Darkness,
legendary source of honeyed generation.
Attain new heights of perfect despair.
Discover the latent bliss of cassowaries,
rooted in their strong disdain for kale.
Play poker with the spirits of the dead.
These are your days of lucky revelation.
Lick magic frogs and witness lost dreams.
Arrive at the perfect wisdom of what is.
Everything and nothing, just what it seems.
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 5:15 AM UTC
the war zone is open
a simple stumble
onto a carelessly unplanted landmine
the photographic proof
of the ones in the winning troops
a wire was tripped
my carefully grounded feet
now stumble sightlessly through
confused by combat
as the clouds of battle
brew and storm
mushroom around me
my soul is shattered
by the shrapnel of the relationships
that were never quite had
grenades packed with unbidden love
a thousand times stronger
than any known explosive
scar and pock my psyche
with their silent detonations
the rockets of unreason
guided by an unbalanced radar
pierce the pretend walls of armor
which were never successfully reinforced
this isn't the first or worst battle
know it won't be the last,
because
there is no safe zone
there is no ceasefire
there is only surrender
to the ceaseless uncertainty
a prisoner of my own
hostile forces
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 7:31 PM UTC
I tried too hard,
I suspect,
I gave attention where none was asked for,
I pleaded her beauty and soul,
though none was wanted,
She had other directions to travel,
Asking each and everyone their opinions,
ignoring them all.
She ran after him,
Held him tight a few times,
conflict settled in her mind,
less comfortable than mistakes,
choices gave way to unreason,
he disappeared,
Shes still follows,
Waiting for the day he returns,
Which he never will,
Still she dreams,
and dreams and dreams,
of him.
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 8:14 AM UTC
holy cow, words my god they can be arranged in ways that are musical and metaphorical and melodic yet menacing or mechanical, mean and maniacal.
WORDS GAH! Letters can be like musical notes and different arrangements are different chords, CHORDS CAN BE WORDS! chord progressions=sentences! There's common ones. Like C G Am F. Translated. You are so beautiful. wow so inspired. HOWEVER! one can use the same chords in different fashions to create different songs with totally different meanings LADLKJNF!
you are beautiful, so
are you so beautiful
so you are beautiful
beautiful, so are you
so beautiful, are you?
you beautiful? so are...
I believe this is clear, cleave me if mistaken but please if anything departure is unreason able would you? don't ever, you are beautiful, so beautiful.
WORDS HolY FARCE! not fake or an art satirical to the smart can you please stop shopping at wal mart?
HOLY ENGLISH! so many words i do not know how will I learn to cope with potential nope unavailable but I know I'm granted unalienable rights in my sights if I might just quote the constitution and relieve my blank poor brain of all destitution so I can keep my head high and wear a grin with pride if you wish to die i'll have to pry into your soul and save you, gotta keep you whole because without you there's one less that one may bless and all the folks will miss you oh what a mess so please I confess I need people here to read these rants and turn them into chants to sway some opinion to create a bunch of minions necessary for a change I can believe in but for that to happen i'll have to go to bed and learn to sleep in.
WOW WORD LOVE WORLD OF WORDS!
Mar 14, 2010
Mar 14, 2010 at 8:01 PM UTC
In my dreams...
I ride barebacked on a white stallion,
Across the plains
I behold with vigilance
Where desert meets azure, sand meets sky.
There is no pollution; no smoke stacks
To **** and penetrate,
To change blue to violated gray.
The heavens are pure.
I ride barebacked on a white stallion,
By peaceful streams,
Along mountain ridges,
Where nature and I have communion,
There is no war, no rumors of war,
To depress and intimidate,
To make life insensible.
The world is harmonious.
I ride barebacked on a white stallion,
Among the wild horses;
They are my brothers.
Eagles and hawks fly together.
There is no hunter, no pursuer,
To **** and capture,
To infringe upon freedom.
The Earth is free.
I ride barebacked upon a white stallion,
Within my mind,
Into feigned sunsets,
Where Utopia is real to me.
There is no unreason, no absurdity,
To bewilder and unsettle,
To eradicate my certainty.
The dreams are real.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 9:43 AM UTC
Amillion steel pin ****** divine
each day closer to death we climb
crystal shards bejewel the sky
While
The Cities beneath me
Kicking and crying
But all I hear is goodbye
-
Unreason not able
Why are these ****** Not stabled
Just wanderin
Thru this fable
stubbed my toe
on your god of stone
That litters this river
We all flow
So
Let’s dance in this
Technicolor bliss
And never ending showers
of little lead gifts
human disinfectant
for where the slime live
Where the slime live
-
Broken bones remind the soul
of the all violence that’s been sold
All the while racing toward
that ever after
We once called home
No more
boiling jealousy
envious bedroom eyes
hideous tongues beguile
Thick salavatory lies
Lifeless imbeciles
Revolving doors
carnivorous smiles
covetous masturbators
**** Gazing while
Justice is **********
Coming a little premature
Serving our just deserves
oh my libertine
How I loathe to
See you In chains
If their speed is good enough for 6 yr olds
Then it’s safe enough for me
HEY!!!!!
I want my! I want my! I want my
methamphetamine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-
I got too many middle fingers
Shoot straight from the cuff
Humans might lose the race
Oh well, close enough
Outlawed truth and reason
But here, I just took a dump
Never waste a good crisis
My Re-elected incumbents
Gotta Fill Them Prisons
Protest prices ‘cause
Dollars fill the fists
Along the streets uprisen
HEY!!!
Whats the policy on returns?
I’m just not happy with this
Oblivion
-
broadcast opinions
Regimental TV
Coerced confession
global stupidity
Yes, I’d like to report a hijacking
0f another species
Endangered or
Polluted at best
Just Don’t forget to breath
Oh yeah, you’re dead
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 6:45 AM UTC
they ask us to hide our figures
because they figure it will stop the assault,
for every woman they find laying somewhere disfigured
it's immediately our fault
because we dress like this ,
we wear those pants that grab our thighs
and that slim fit dress that draws the eyes .
we were blessed but cursed with shape
that makes them blind to reason ,
so we must accept the myth of "requested ****
and agree with mass unreason
right?
we must accept MAN-ipulation
because it happens by our fault,
they want us to hate what makes us woman
like its some sort of salt,
like its some sort of guzu,
like we are enemy to our curves,
likes hips and thighs aren't just as natural and veins and nerves.
they want us to be embarrassed
ashamed , so we don’t speak
they Make excuses for the perpetrator to make the victim weak .
But they need to STOP!
They need stop telling us what to wear
They need to stop telling us how to behave
The need to stop making a woman feel as though her body must have her enslaved
if its the clothes that we wear that lead to abuse,
why were fully clothed polish nuns ganged ***** in 1942
wearing habits revealing nothing but their faces?
why are Muslim women still being ***** in sacred places?
why are formally dressed women assaulted in their workplaces?
They need stop blaming us for that mans lack of restraint
They need to address the issue instead of changing the complaint,
No Means No!
we need to encourage our sons to understand rejection
Because he cannot always get what he wants,
And he cannot forcibly take what he wants,
And the world is not his canvas!
He cannot cannot paint his insecurities everywhere!
and that girl is not his graveyard,
He cannot bury his anger in somebody’s daughter!
He needs to learn to accept the concept of NO.
we do Not Consent , and they need to know .
Just because our dresses may be a little above knee length ,
Does not meet that we concede or consent ,
Just because we may walk with an extra sway
Doesn’t mean that it’s okay ...for him
To make me us next mistake
seeing something that he likes does not give him the right to take !
WE DO NOT CONSENT !
we do not consent to the myth of women aiding the intent
of **** , assault , and ****** harassment ,
Like our ancestors,
We DO NOT CONSENT!
Like the persecuted victims,
We DO NOT consent!
We Do not consent to assault , **** , or ****** indignities
Nor will we change to help your son fight his own insecurities.
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 6:24 PM UTC
A greater cause,
means a better life.
Or atleast so they voice.
But how do you fight for what is right;
when all you dispose of is knife?
I ask myself who is my greatest enemy?
Is it me, myslef, or I?
Mybe all I need is a remedy.
To make all the wrong rectify.
I know that all of what I am capabe of holding is a weapon.
But how do you use such a thing when you can't tell the difference between your foe and your allies?
All I see are demons who seem to have come from the heart of heaven.
But afetr all, isn't that everybodies homeland. Even the devil knows all of its alleys.
But mybe weapons as deadly as they can be,
are the more or less something like you and me.
Mybe they weren't found for the unique cause of killing.
Pedro Reyes made weapon in art fullfilling.
What was war's greatest tool.
Has now become harmony's moor.
What was used in fights caused by sheer unreason.
Has now brought all people even.
All those cries,
all those tries.
And I still can't realize:
what on earth can possibly be my cause.
Oct 24, 2019
Oct 24, 2019 at 4:24 PM UTC
There’s a certain blurry gentleness to denial
A Tylenol bottle cotton plug of protection
Muting the inevitable rattling,
A scratchy puff, a cloud,
Shoving it down into the bottle
Until it’s wedged Somewhere Else
now just a half a whisper you can almost hear
On a tv with no subtitles
I like it here.
Swaddled against such unpleasantness
Nestled and unfocused.
That’s the key.
Focus your attention on anything for too long and you’re *******
The spell will be broken
That little whisper
Now a shard of glass
Now unforgiving and sharp edged on your naked awareness
Now, it insists
Now
Hear me NOW
NO, ****
So many wishes spill out when you lose,
The blood of your unreason stinging your eyes like black pepper
Like a floodlight in a dark room
Pluck it out or shove it down
It will find a way to find you
Outside or inside you
In front of or behind you
You can’t escape this time
Or can you?
If you sink to the bottom you can hide awhile
With the anchor on your ankle
And the waves on every side caressing, pressing oh so gently
Like a kiss, like a smile.
Bliss endless and tidal
Like denial.
Dec 6, 2021
Dec 6, 2021 at 6:10 AM UTC
I am but air
in this hall of-
unreason
And I am square with myself;
I am alive, I do not breath
yet, I do and I must,
see-
the light
because I am the light and so are you,
you are there in all black dressed,
to the nines in the curtain rail twirling in the background.
I don't know what it means,
that's why they call it poetry.
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 11:16 PM UTC
confetti snow, so pretty and untouched,
paint me pink.
pink so I can dive into a well of unreason.
i'll dance with jesters and kiss them goodnight.
never think of the tree where i've buried tomorrows.
all my tomorrows.
then snow turns to slush, pink drips, not my color.
paint me black.
not for death but for classic, a backdrop, a canvas.
paint me black to be strong, an anchor for flurries.
stuck in black.
neither black, neither pink,
paint me white.
white like that snow that turned my feet frozen.
white like the snow, like the pure, like the light.
white like the empty.
yes, paint me white.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
Michael O’Rahilly was leading the charge, a hopelessly wasteful foray.
The English were waiting behind barricades as the Gaels made their desperate play.
Rifles at the ready; they charged up Moore Street, the O’Rahilly leading the way.
Like paper consumed by a flickering flame, their manpower melted away.
O’Rahilly lay dying, but the British just laughed, no aid would they give to the foe.
The cobblestones reeked of the blood on the street as the bodies were laid in a row.
Heroes perhaps have a touch of the poet, a dram of unreason besides,
but everyone knows of the charge of O’Rahilly; Everyone knows how he died.
It was, he well knew, a magnificent gesture, the English be dammed and despised.
He lingered, tis said, for nineteen long hours, immortal or not, he expired.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 7:53 AM UTC
Beat in the blues the musky smell of smoke slithering
in and out of nostrils- dragon like dancing
to the ceiling and the drums bop, hard as muscle
women gyrate to the pulse of passion
sounds embrace lovers heading into the mist of night.
Between the banter snorters ****** in coke
and cannabis wasted in the aisles of wonder
glancing at the lights flickering in the rooftops
of their eyes, seeking angels of mercy to take
them deep into the oblivion of emptiness.
The midnight gong sounds shattered as we
huddle in the days of the darkness of unreason
wallowing in the madness of the music
and breaking every rule that kept us trapped
in the cages of that society .
As I look back now, leafing through the years
I cut through the morass of tradition and broke free
from the shackles of sensibility and found my feet
in a wild, wild world where nothing mattered
I am now rested at the journeys end
waiting for the skyline to blow up in flames.
Author Notes
Recollection.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 6:00 PM UTC
how could this have happened? america was once the city of oz gleaming green in the distance as a hand of liberty reached out to ellis island. we were strong and proud and a country made of immigrants. a melange of ideals and talents that made it unique and beautiful and a portrait of diversity. but then it all came crashing down. we were going to have a proof. she would show that we are who we say we are and we are unafraid and we love and accept but all that came crashing down. suddenly a tornado of hate sweeps in and our progress comes crashing down. away with everything good and in with the stupidity and the unreason and the uniformed of the next four years. oh but worry not he will surely listen and respect you. simply name it and it's yours. but not if you're a man manlover. or a woman womanlover. or if you're a queen. or if you're a beautiful foreigner. or if you're a hardworking traveler. or if you're of a different anything. he will disrespect you because you are not as good as him. or different. of a different gender or race. if you are not orange, you are not worthy. but we can do this we can speak out. we will walk across our great land and manifest destiny to right the wrongs that have been done. everyone who holds this traitor up is everyone who has been shamed and we will not hold up someone who intends to bring us crashing down. we will open ellis island again and receive a flood of losers like us.
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 12:22 AM UTC
How does one survive the turmoil inside
Doubts of oneself that replay on repeat
Crisis created out of truths put aside
Protecting the truth that caused the defeat
Then to learn no norm will ever be built
Never ever will it even be known
Then comes the shame and of course all the guilt
Damaged further and cannot be resewn
Then swept away with another high tide
Raising the same questions left from the past
Then look above for the reason to hide
Answers not given only added to the last
Then fears brought back upon shores of unreason
Living sadness still in another New season
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 9:52 PM UTC
I’ve ingested the bigot —
imbibed his words in each step that falters,
felt the cruel weight of lies
in every doubt and deprecation,
muted judgement of the system
that I might prejudge myself
in ****** images he inscribes.
This fight will go down into the dark
caverns of unreason
until the morning of unknowing
shall expel the burrowing villain
that cannot live without destroying
his only host.
Dec 26, 2019
Dec 26, 2019 at 11:52 AM UTC