Existential

03-15 Auspicious Suspicions

Folder: 
DailyPoetryProject

The ides of ideas is upon us,

carried on silver backs,

shining with red hands,

snapping up lesser forms.



The first,

swimming in the stream of consciousness,

aware of itself only in impulse.

Defined by actions

instigated in carefree disarray

subtlety was lost on it

until given time to grow.

The first was a stage

outgrown by age and abandoned by reason.



The next,

more complete of itself

is in the midst of now.

Determination.

Sliding slowly back to instincts,

yet separate nonetheless.

All intricately confusing,

commotion movement dancing,

to and fro necessity

exaggerated from simplicity.

System construct parameters,

expanding wire walls

to prevent undesirable escape.

Digital polydecimal verification.

Statistic sophistication resizes,

derivatives eating away the foundation.

Manipulation rampantly engaged,

equally ignored.

Acceptance of the next

is where we find ourselves.



The final,

fully perfect in every way and past imagination

travels faster than the past

from the central point.

Preparedness lacking,

answers fading,

the wrong questions raised,

the right ones ignored and trivialized.

Point of view determination

perception circumvention

facts erased replaced with biased minds

but all will come to rest before

the devastating truth

that everything was meant to be

the way it happened

that was outside of control.

The final will never end,

nothing subsequent will continue

any subsequent cycle.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

You know what I mean, you silly guys.

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Disillusion

The sky cracked open yesterday -

the crack remains today -

and though I had expected such

I do not comprehend it much.



We work and toil upon the earth

and toiling brings some sense of worth

but when we die and cease to live

what does the working give?



Is heaven waiting, gates upraised

as arms poised to embrace?

the trouble is we'll never know

what, reaping, we may sow.



Life's left delirious and strange

with naught within it to arrange,

but living brings its own reward

with life as its award.



The sky cracked open yesterday -

the crack remains today -

and though I had expected such

I do not comprehend it much.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The first line was the challenge by which the poem was created.  Also I've been reading a lot of Frost :/

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- I -

" I "



i am he who can feign and falsify

i give to the shadows a sharper edge

i am the paranoia lurking in the alley

i am the repeating dream of depression

i long for the distant beauty

i crave the path of power

i show no conviction but connive

i embrace what they despise



what can i be but a lie...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i've built my life upon what cannot stand on it's own..

View lillep's Full Portfolio

Bad News

In panic we pump at the lifeless corpse, cardiac massage and shock,  

While one great infusion follows the other and still we dare not stop

For where is the brave man of our day who'll name the time of death?

We call and we call in wasted breath.



Meanwhile the anxious mass press near

Hope against hope, all filled with fear, for the thing can't die,  

While they, one by one, are all bled dry

And one great infusion follows the other, still we dare not stop.

For where are the doctors of our day, who could certify this death?

We call and we call in wasted breath.



For: Smith, Ricardo, Walras, Keynes, all men of stature and of means, are gone.  

Just dusty tomes or statues in parks, like the one I neglected to mention, Marx.

So in panic we pump at the lifeless corpse, cardiac massage and shock,

Whilst one great infusion follows the other and still we dare not stop,

We hope it won't die, while we all bleed dry and call and call in our wasted breath,

For the messengers we all put to death.

View rbpoetry's Full Portfolio

3 STATES OF BEING

3 STATES OF BEING

MIND, BODY, SOUL

PRESENT BUT ILLUSIVE

GIVING BUT LEAVING NOTHING OF ME BEHIND

PARTICIPATNG BUT NOY REALLY THERE

3 STATES OF BEING

MIND, BODY, SOUL

BUT WHO AM I



ANONYMOUS, UNTOUCHABLE

COMMUNICATING, CONVERSATING

A HUG, A KISS, TOUCHING BUT UNFEELING

3 STATES OF BEING

MIND, BODY, SOUL

BUT WHO AM I



WHO WILL BE CALLED ON TODAY

A SHOULDER TO LEAN ON

AN EAR TO BEND

PAIN REDUCER, STRESS RELIEVER

YOU'D NEVER KNOW THERE WAS A RIFT BETWEEN MY 3 STATES OF BEING

MIND, BODY, SOUL

BUT WHO AM I



I AM 3 STATES OF BEING

MIND, BODY, SOUL

PRESENT YET ILLUSIVE

GIVING BUT LEAVING NOTHING OF ME BEHIND

ANONYMOUS, UNTOUCHABLE

I AM 3 STATES OF BEING

MIND, BODY, SOUL

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Sugar Cubed Square Root Canals

Easy click after the starting line

Checkered flags at the end zones

X marks the spot and the occasion

Ribbons cut and glasses raised

X marking the needle's point

Of the wild goose chase

Raising our eyes an inch or three

Still and listening to simply be

And somewhere lost

In the third eye of the brainstorm

No X or Y splitting hairs like atoms

Oblivion is always everywhere

Nowhere faster than before

Sugar cubed square root canals

Wind tangled in the whiskers

Of the hair brained scuba swerve

As we are all glass houses with ant-sized mouses

On the edge of our seats for the next good scare

Author's Notes/Comments: 

written 6/3/07

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La Vereda

Folder: 
Pensamientos

La Vereda



…camino por una larga vereda

…obscura y trecha

…maltratado por pasos del pasado

…lúgubre y melancólica

…moviéndome con cuidado

…siniestra y malvada

…sin repetir la historia

…trémula y perturbada

…del que fue y el que fuera

…bufona y traidora



…de que vale el triunfo

…mimado y jocoso

…sin poder compartirlo

…ingenioso y bondadoso

…con aquellos apegados

…astuto y valioso

…que ven profundo en uno

…culto y gracioso

…el prestigio de su amistad

…modesto y orgulloso



…a donde llega esa vereda

…jocosa y trecha

…tal vez nos lleve al futuro

…bondadoso y melancólico

…incierto o certero, quien adivina?

…bondadosa y malvada

…lo que siento, lo que soy

…valioso y perturbado

…camino por una larga vereda

…graciosa y traidora



Rolando Matias

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One Sky, Two Sky; White Sky, Blue Sky

One Sky, Two Sky; White Sky, Blue Sky
a sky this clear brings tear to my eye.

   Is this ominous blue bowl of creative compounds

smiling at us sourly? or pleading for our protection?



A sky this blue seems to good to be true

Are our egos smiling back at us showing ignorance is bliss?

We wake to find a white sky difficult to miss.

Cold and consuming, reflecting our smog

the dense winter clouds creat carpets of fog.

Grey the next day, this pattern repeats

Causing us to question the sky's defeat.

Are we as safe from the earth as we pretend?

or is the Sky showing us shadows of our end?



The sky erupts in black- chaos spreads as death attacks

Natures mountains have covered us in warnings

the ash falls upon those mourning.

days in darkness are successful in showing

that while we fear the sky, we've stalled in growing.



A royal blue sky brightens the trees,

it shines through the ash, emerging with ease

The sun pears out like an eager little boy

but mocks the people for thier sudden Joy

for sky's don't stay blue on this Mother Earth

they'll change when it's time for our planet's Rebirth.


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Sky is Too Blue for me, The

Folder: 
Potpourri

Sometimes when I am lost in a fever

And the sky is too blue for me

The night is too dark and the day is too long

And freedom is not really free

The air is too clean to breathe freely

And I see everything too clear

The peace is too peaceful for comfort

I understand everything that I hear

There is more perfection in the music

Than there really ought to be

I have more love than a man should have

It’s all much too much for me

The children are no longer crying

The truth is always so true

The earth is productive and fertile

And the sky is much too blue

One day I will be leaving

To a place where I really am free

But the place where I am is so perfect

I am not sure it’s where I should be

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