"unremembered" poems
~a question of a thousand dreams~^
“Where are you going now my love? Where will you be tomorrow? Will you bring me happiness? Will you bring me sorrow? All the questions of a thousand dreams, what you do and what you see”
this one composes itself
for all dreams go unremembered
the first, the thousandth, the every in between,
erased by the push button of opening eyes
but dreams come, marching in, saints mining the raw materiel
the quartermaster has stored, awaiting requisition by an
unarmed unnamed corp, witnessed but never seen
these dreams wisped soft willow budded, tempting taunting,
leaving nothing but unanswered questions that colored come
in black and white
elementary clues,
a pillow indentation,
single hair that stretches
across the sea between two pillows that is blonde or red
but
certainly unmine,
dregs of soured sentiment linger like the
aftertaste of too many coffees and stainless steel beers
heated summers breezes give no succor or relief,
and the rain following gives no pleasure,
for now you are hot and soaked,
but somewhere in there a dream is part replayed,
and eyes widening in major league surprise,
the question acknowledged, the dreams quest hinted
she has gone, neither happiness or sorrow will she
provide on the morrow, no toweling of your wet hair fair,
and you awake sweat besotted, it is not rain, just pain,
and it is only one dream a thousand times repeated
and what you do and what you see
is the abraded night ahead, and
you bitter laugh, for there is no more other than to think,
the question answered, and you beg relief by
uttering
“perchance to dream”
3:49 pm
see the notes!!
someone accuses me of Plagiarism
because I did not acknowledge that the quote in marks and Italics was from a famous song written 39 years ago
so here is my response to
“just saying”
congratulations on ******* me off
and yes I agree, you do not know the rules
“#1: Quotation Marks Are for Quoting People—Verbatim
Perhaps it should go without saying, but quotation marks are for quoting people. Quoting doesn’t mean summarizing or paraphrasing; it means repeating exactly what someone said. If you put double quotes around a phrase, your reader will often assume that someone, somewhere, said that exact phrase or sentence.“
http://thevisualcommunicationguy.com/2013/09/11/10-things-you-really-need-to-know-about-quotation-marks/
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 3:59 PM UTC
My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.
I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.
9.2k
Done with thinking because that's for god to do
I am just this appendage of a greater consciousness
Ahab is blameless
in his small existence
Don't quote me
quote Herman and Freddy Nietzsche
They and their hermits
coming down from the mountains
to declare they ought to have
loved their fate all along
Amor fati
Why couldn't we have been stuck in the herd all along
guys who get love and happiness effortless
no need to spend their life in anguish
searching through tomes
found in tombs for eons and eons
enhancing their social aloofness
and their unremembered trauma
'till those sad souls give those pansies confidence
to leave an exegesis of their own
Too smart kid
that decried Christ and
the shadows of a god all around
only to find the search for truth was hopeless
Find a way to dumbly enjoy life again
and you only say again cause
that's all we can control
our memories
and we too often forget
our thought habits
the pre-neolithic mind tricks
on ourselves
Too many MLMs profiting off false mindfulness
missing the point beyond exercise
and short stress relief
Change your thought patterns to love your destiny
That's the best we have
to pretend to have control in this ̶h̶e̶l̶l̶ hole
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 8:49 AM UTC
She rides the chanting waves
At the seas horizon,
In fires of star sheen and moon shine,
Sweet Niamh of the golden hair, and aqua eyes,
Princess of the green sea turtles,
Of the coral sea grottos,
Anemone naves and kelpie skins,
Trailing the rainbow schools of the whirling fin,
The whole twining ocean globe of blue is swooning
Under the milky waving skies and unfathoming deeps,
Her laughter lighting the unremembered bottom of the seas.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 1:24 PM UTC
Willow herb floating
on silent certainty
ashes of sighs
not fleeting,
unvapoured on the
blossom of the rain,
I am too light to
pull or push
the swing of delight
through this land.
The rain left me for a
while
sun unshielding
-a thousand widows
more unyielding than the depths . .
Once shadowed whisperers
of delight,gossamer
sparkling , descending
their chains
of necromantic hope.
Lilith is no night owl
she is mother, eve
and my becoming:
sweet earth spun
at once ,
exhaling her .
The see saw
bumped gently
on my chin
it is a most gentle
form of awakening.
The silence bore no whispers
till sinking through the quicksand
-or was it quicksilver?
-in any case I could smell little
in my amniotic amnesia.
I made ten thousand friends,till their soap
made this place clean.
Is this a seed or a dying
hopefulness
-is my sallow sowing
beyond all shores of
reproduction;
a reflection of the child
they dared not bear?
Is my last breath like this
a forgotton yielding
will they catch me
as I fall ?
-(sweet earth)-
This moth of my ending,
a shallow recantation,
my fears-
their memories, mere
testubes of
stylish hope .
I breathe the elegant stare
you have forgotten .
Once more free
from such
rememberance
I need not ,
remained not ,
your imploded ,
wakefulness .
A thousand pardons
exhaled like silk
entwining
an unfinished race
spider of a thousand eyes .
One may say
I was
stared
to death
but surrogate air
mocks childish pity.
Taut refelexions
bear salt echoes
in silk convulsions
fresh water
a veneered hope .
Easier in death than life
is a child's sorrowed
partings ,
the illusion of
bouyancy
rippled tides
unfelt.
The oceans have not enough salt
for such shrunken sorrow.
if we could but once
have shared
unbreathed aspersion .
The room has come and gone
the pillow quite undry
unforgotten
unremembered.
A web untouched
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 7:46 AM UTC
The solitary reminder,
a sole survivor,
hopeful-placed,
forgivingly encased
in little boxes decorative
hidden in plain sight
throughout our home.
Single and incomplete,
the lonesome leftovers,
openly hid upon bookshelf,
desk corners, fireplace mantels,
storage units of the
I am unlost,
I am unfound,
Raise your hand,
stand up and say
that is me,
that is me.
Minor treasure chests,
of carved wood, seashell real,
acquisitions of trips
to faraway places,
these boxes, they themselves,
visible but unremembered,
just there, no cares,
no one knows,
when or why.
that is me,
is that me?
Space fillers, memory taunts,
grandchildren's playthings, delight,
when they someday come visit,
weather and parents permitting,
finding keys for locks, doors,
from three homes ago.
Can they unlock me too?
Boxes hoard the things
we have lost, but cannot discard,
can't sacrifice, gotta keep,
an admixture of buttons,
dried flowers, faded notes that
once upon a time mattered,
shook someone's world...
Some kept in hope,
others, sequestered, lock-up,
jails that we are both
jailor and jailed,
the joke being on me.
Should we, you and I,
exchange these
cases histories of lost hopes, memories,
it would not be surprising,
if when opened,
the contents identical,
even if you are in Manila,
Leeds, places of need,
and yet,
we would be shocked,
asking,
*that is me,
is that me?*
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 6:34 AM UTC
Oh for the rising moon
Over the roofs of Rome,
And swallows in the dusk
Circling a darkened dome!
Oh for the measured dawns
That pass with folded wings—
How can I let them go
With unremembered things?
2.3k
Living like a shadow
Being the odd one out
Remarkable yet unremembered
Floating in my daydreams
Fighting off reality
Forgetting my priorities
Getting carried away
By life's necessities
And blending into the crowd
At the oddest moments
When sticking out is beneficial
Jan 14, 2022
Jan 14, 2022 at 1:41 AM UTC
She rides the chanting waves
At the seas horizon,
In fires of star sheen and moon shine,
Sweet Niamh of the golden hair, and aqua eyes,
Princess of the green sea turtles,
Of the coral sea grottos,
Anemone naves and kelpie skins,
Trailing the rainbow schools of the whirling fin,
The whole twining ocean globe of blue is swooning
Under the milky waving skies and unfathoming deeps,
Her laughter lighting the unremembered bottom of the seas.
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 1:59 PM UTC
She rides the chanting waves
At the seas horizon,
In fires of star sheen and moon shine,
Sweet Niamh of the golden hair, and aqua eyes,
Princess of the green sea turtles,
Of the coral sea grottos,
Anemone naves and kelpie skins,
Trailing the rainbow schools of the whirling fin,
The whole twining ocean globe of blue is swooning
Under the milky waving skies and unfathoming deeps,
Her laughter lighting the unremembered bottom of the seas.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 2:27 PM UTC
Above the public pool
a volleyball so cool
stuck for years
in the rafters
Someone’s
breath of life
trapped in
it’s bladder
Evidence of
their lingering
presence, me
wondering
if they ever
pondered the
relevance of
the essence they
left behind?
Singsong thoughts
turn inward …
What about me?
In all the places
I’ve been,
pieces of me,
residual traces
of myself
left behind,
cast away!
Small links, unforgotten,
faithfully preserved
by old friends—
threads of connection
reinforced by timeless bonds—
who keep my words,
moves (dancing!), and
shared memories as
precious cargo,
cherished keepsakes,
A clear reminder that
I exist! I matter!
I’m something much more
than simply air I breathe
on an unremembered day …
Like that beautiful volleyball
in the rafters
W I L S O N ! ! !
Mark Toney © 2023
Aug 30, 2023
Aug 30, 2023 at 10:10 PM UTC
Death devours all lovely things;
Lesbia with her sparrow
Shares the darkness,—presently
Every bed is narrow.
Unremembered as old rain
Dries the sheer libation,
And the little petulant hand
Is an annotation.
After all, my erstwhile dear,
My no longer cherished,
Need we say it was not love,
Now that love is perished?
1.8k
I never fix my room, no, never. On every corner, my books perch, stacks after stacks, like hungry butterflies destined to inhale the delight of only three summer days.
On the chair sleep those clothes I was wearing yesterday, and the day before yesterday, and last Monday and weeks ago, like fallen unremembered friends. It still has the scent of the woman sitting next to me on the bus, beside the window, her fleeting heart and endless readings and the way love flipped between her forefinger and thumb. That was the type of love that not the world could interrupt; not even the hundred years of common existence could contain.
It still has the sound of our broken steps on the pavement, the feel of the scraping wall, the drunken scent of the stranger I ****** with. His skin against my skin, his mouth staining the length of my neck, his hair wrapping my fingers, my breath on his temple, his leg, my leg, his arm, my arm, the stars dancing and our warmth defying the curse of human mortality.
Scattered on the floor were the paintbrushes, unwashed palette, stacks of newspapers I use to cover around my interminable uncertainty. I hear the wall, almost every day, discussing about my inferiority complex, about how it impedes me from creating something original, something infinite, about how it trails behind me, gasping, grabs me from behind, locks me in then eventually enslaves me.
How dare they are to go about the spectrum of these endless wanderings, these filthy fellows who knew so well that I never comb my hair and that I have always, always, hated the boring Murakami.
I never fix my bed, no, never. The propped of my pillow, the uneven creases, they will serve as the living reminder of our final encounter. I must have disarrayed the bed sheet – I cannot remember exactly when –but I have no plan of rearranging the constellations any moment soon.
My blanket swallows me alive, its edges draping on the edge of my bed, sometimes flipping reluctantly, savoring the vacancy of the afternoon, the way the light scars my books, glistens my skin that I have strewn everywhere for the mother of otherness to eat.
Most of the time, in my sheer insanity, I set my room afire.
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 11:02 AM UTC
She rides the chanting waves
At the seas horizon,
In fires of star sheen and moon shine,
Sweet Niamh of the golden hair, and aqua eyes,
Princess of the green sea turtles,
Of the coral sea grottos,
Anemone naves and kelpie skins,
Trailing the rainbow schools of the whirling fin,
The whole twining ocean globe of blue is swooning
Under the milky waving skies and unfathoming deeps,
Her laughter lighting the unremembered bottom of the seas.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 7:38 PM UTC
Ripples on the surface,
light shined through
though
always too black to see beneath.
I've felt this way, before;
I've seen the haze and
walked within the maze and
been buried beneath the sand and
and
and
and
this isn't a dream we weave, though, it's all too much to ignore;
And all my friends, they always seem to leave;
perhaps I seem a bore.
I tried to open that
amazing door
and be within the beautiful mind
that beautiful time
which some have called "Memory,"
others "Past," "Happiness," "Solace,"
"Escape,"
though,
all I may call it now is
"What Was Once But Now Is Dead."
I see red
streaming before my eyes,
screaming into my frontal lobe
just a dream to the wise
but to a fool a deadly probe;
a seedling foully planted
within the loamy soil of the mind,
it had been granted passage
as each root unwinds.
I know I've felt this way, before,
though I can't know what's in store,
I haven't read the yore nor
that most evil, ancient lore
so all I want is more.
I must be ignored.
I must be killed.
Burn me.
Light me on fire.
Stack my rusty bones upon the pyre.
Give to me the power of the Sun,
you my planet that slowly drifts away.
I see red
I see fire
I see great flames a-dancing
I see the Sun
I see life
I see redemption and
I see it shut right in my miserable face.
I see you continue to float on off
into the empty darkness of unreachable
space
those unimaginable distances like
the passages between Memory,
Past, Happiness, Solace,
Escape.
I see you wind on off through
the narrow hallways of my frontal lobe
finally turning back before my face.
I see the terrible, pregnant eclipse
of your body before my body,
rocky to red-hot Sun,
take to my heart like an ellipse
.
.
.
I've been naughty
I am on the run
.
.
.
No light shines through here,
no ripples on inky landscapes
.
.
.
It is dark.
.
.
I have no light,
I have no Sun,
I have no planets,
I have no dream,
I have no memories.
.
.
I lose it all
and yet I keep losing.
.
.
I still feel like a dream inside, though
I know it's merely
What Was Once But Now Is Dead.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
. . . .
death .
.
.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 11:40 PM UTC
I am forgotten
my existence is rotten
no one bothers to notice
me and the pain it's causing
feels like I've been erased
out of everybody's mind
for I am like a past
that's supposed to be unremembered
and never to be spoken ever again
I am ignored
for it seems like my voice has never been heard
I am lost
and no one wants me to be found
I am excluded
my whole life I've been mistreated
and always feeling rejected
I am nothing
no special meaning to anybody
for I am
always left unnoticed
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
Dos cervezas por favor in De K’ffe,
Cold bite of the first beer refreshes.
Una mas and workday fades to dull,
The night feels bright and hopeful,
The Palitos de pollo satisfies hunger.
Conversation flows to Cepas de Altura,
Three bottles later the stories repeat,
Groundhog day of interesting lives,
With eternal friendship in every bottle.
Six corks line up like truth bullets,
In an aggression of arguments,
Maybe he has just said too much,
Friendship of an unremembered hug,
Next day sorry and failings forgotten.
Dec 29, 2010
Dec 29, 2010 at 9:24 AM UTC
A slow death, in eons of unremembered moments,
Like a dark star, she collapses into herself every day,
Fragments of her past memories intrude sometimes,
Incomprehensible now, like they are all in Russian.
This existence she hates more than life itself,
Flowing like an unending river, towards a sea,
Days of sleep, interrupted by family strangers,
Wearing her precious necklace and others’ clothes.
At times I am "Who?", until her son is introduced,
Which produces a "Happy to see you" smile, and
Complaints that no one ever comes to visit now,
She is living in a nightmare of empty spaces.
Her now ungraspable tranquillity, her living hell,
Punished for imagined sin, she now doubts God,
But wants to go home to Him, to ask "Why?”.
She believed the childhood promise of heaven.
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 11:23 AM UTC
hundreds of years
from generations, transcending
always below, never equal
under white-washed pavements
dried fragile bones
hollow skulls and locked jaws
unremembered and unloved
under white-washed pavements
lost with tied hands
stuck, bound to the land
because of the unlucky man
under white-washed pavements
she scratches the walls
in vain for air and a bed of flowers
shackled to bed -- always restless
under white-washed pavements
breathless, caught in his hands
the contrast, it enthralls
no choice but to obey
under white-washed pavements
she screams in empty pillow cases
his favorite song to hear --
her song of desperate hope resounds
under white-washed pavements
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 12:08 AM UTC
Unabashed In abandon,oblivious to all now,
Each grain of sand pricking me sensuous,
Starry witnesses unheeded, unremembered,
Morning tides tickling our naked feet wet.
Warm sunlight dappling through your hair,
Your nectar on my lips, in eyes waking dreams,
Love drunk am I, Alive, all my deaths forgotten!
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 4:30 PM UTC
scene I:
a squirrel
in the road,
cars whizzing by
left and right,
narrowly missing
the fearless traveler
by the shortest hair
of its bushy tail.
scene II:
a young bird
in a nest,
screeching loudly
as a human child does,
though not for fear
or hunger,
but anticipation;
then leaping into unknown vastness.
scene III:
a caterpillar
traversing a leaf,
the green ground
shifting, swaying,
as the teenage insect
searches for the place,
the perfect place,
for a coming of age.
scene IV:
an ant
building,
laboring feverishly,
driven by pure instinct,
innate obligation—
perhaps love?—
to create a world
it likely will not see.
scene V:
a mantis
praying,
a final worship
to an unseen,
unknown God,
preparing for the ultimate,
honorable sacrifice,
to be unremembered by his brood.
scene VI:
a grizzly
charging through the brush,
a mad fear in her eyes,
in her heart,
as she bull-rushes
the two barrels
that threaten her only child
and will surely take her.
scene VII:
a rebel flag
emblazoned on the
rear window of the truck,
the truck driven by a man
who cares little that
his 7/11 cup now lays by
the side of the road,
or for the journey he just ended.
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 2:47 PM UTC
She rides the chanting waves
At the seas horizon,
In fires of star sheen and moon shine,
Sweet Niamh of the golden hair, and aqua eyes,
Princess of the green sea turtles,
Of the coral sea grottos,
Anemone naves and kelpie skins,
Trailing the rainbow schools of the whirling fin,
The whole twining ocean globe of blue is swooning
Under the milky waving skies and unfathoming deeps,
Her laughter lighting the unremembered bottom of the seas.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 3:42 PM UTC
Why are we conscious?
Why life?
The universe
infinite flux
Epic Smashing parts together
Brains splattered by speeding bullets
Simple physics
Described in abstract numbers
Sublime
It’s so plain
So regular
How Life is extinguished without emotion
In an instant
Unseen and unremembered
Why did we even bother?
To become conscious at all
To perceive futilely the world
And despair in the flux
Anguish in the face
Of pure entropy
Absurdity is the only legitimate feeling
And yet there are so many more
Why? I want to know!
Why this fait?
Why could I not be a chair?
Simply sitting, never thinking the thoughts
My bane and my bone
My plagued thoughts
In pursuit of clarity
Like a sore that would go away
If you would
Just
Stop
Picking it
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 2:14 PM UTC