ironic

Caught In-between Toxic Thoughts

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Caught In-between Toxic Thoughts

 

Please don't fade away

the Color of jet-black shirts

Tumbling through washes

Forever stressed, stretched, laundered

Just to clean impurities








Author's Notes/Comments: 

 Reedited 07.11.2019, 07.08.2019; 07.03.2019; 07.02.2019; 06.26/27.2019 (for general grammatical &/or semantical errors, misspelled words, & ambiguities/clarifications):  

 

This is, indeed, just another "tanka" exercise.  Like most of the other tankas that have been published here, for the same stated purposes, they were also primarily intended for me to learn from the get-go.  That was the surface reason:  in understanding my own notions of the poetical distinctions between a tanka & a haiku (&/or/versus other poetical forms, their fundamental use as a vehicle for expression in classic/modern/postmodern literature; still considered as modes of expression anyhow despite the varying adaptations even up to now, especially in my investigations of the "indeterminacy of translation", Quine).  Nonetheless, I do not intend to make anything more out of them other than that which was stated, i.e., the didactic part of it.  It neither means anything more than that which was implicitly explained nor anything else that may possibly be assumed (assumptions that may also be expected, which might precede these developments as they get showcased or self-published).—Because it is also a learning experience, so to speak a synonymy of a learning objective, I solely wanted to learn (& relearn the essences) about how language(s) (or theories of language, in general) are distinguished in respect to its many contradistinctions/aspects/properties/use/etc., ie., descriptivism vs prescriptivism, how those [said features] interrelate to meaningfulness/meaninglessness to either myself or others, & penultimately how the Japanese, themselves, supposed to have intended their own expressions/ideas to mean—in relation to my "own" usage).  Of course, that could still mean going to back to historical accounts of their own systematized body of knowledge in its foundational knowledge (as pertains to literature & those multifarious factors that have mainly contributed to those movements (i.e., in their art forms).  I know of the basic premises..that there must exist, either metaphysically or empirically, a divide between two cultural traditions and how my poems could be considered too synthetic, by comparison.  An intellectual's pursuit (e.g., his intellectualisation about anything, or for the matter at hand) can be only deemed so (a so-called "claim", even by him); one may even seem to appear megalomaniac, because like a maxim, that's how intellectualizing may look like (e.g., that's how it may appear to work within a particular linguistic/phenomenological/logical system).  But more than this, there is still an overriding principle which is my aim, i.e., to further analyze the philosophical distinctions between them, as well (when observed through a wide-ranging lens or purview/scope which also could mean its "analyticity" in regards to theoretical analyses that span intersubjectively, e.g., trans-/inter-/multi-/cross-disciplinarity).  Pretty much how Quine have been said to have arrived at one of his theses about translation &/or his ideas on synonymy—as by having his pragmatic stance on one of those said theses (versus, in what I've studied so far, e.g., logicists/logical positivists vs. the continental philosophers' take on Linguistic Philosophy & other sociolinguistical concepts and theories which I will mention in the next instance when given a chance).  There is no definite goal to be achieved right now, but for my own self-discovery of my casual use of language by its direct/indirect applications (about effective communication/communicative action) and for enhancing my unripe understanding of the dichotomies involved in  semantics/pragmatics/syntactics/semiotics which could be one instance alone of that exercise in my daily application.  It is, in fact, a part of current curricula in Sociology & Psychology (according to one of my co-workers).  In an English-speaking world, where English is predominantly taught as primary subject matter in most learning institutions, my self-directed studies may be deemed significant by my own standard of measure due to it has given me a good start to align certain variables versus many other linguistic factors/phenomena (social phenomena) & other traditions in the Western analytic tradition (in Philosophy, as by the use of the English language or its translations from German & French or Latin/Greek for use in both Continental & Analytic Philosophy).  Howsoever, this concept that I just had formed here may be deemed insignificant by others, e.g., in another [specified] way or contrastingly. It is both a phenomenon and a noumenon (e.g., if one should go by Kant's basic descriptions of such).

A lonely introvert

Folder: 
growing pains

She's afraid of her mind so she keeps thoughts inside

no one will understand, so why even try? 

 just swallow them. Be alone and cry. 

Read self help books, be a good friend 

smile, hide, bury yourself, pretend. 

Get relief- hide, cry and do it all again. 

Until one day, cracks are too big to mask 

tears shine through, and she clearly sees. 

How can they care for me,or help, she asks 

for i have hid myself, my pain, my tears.

All they know is the mask. 

Not knowing the struggle to cover

Dark thoughts, tears, guilt and shame never expressed.

swallowed and silenced for no gain. what cold cruel pain! 

Tormented, alone and silent with a broken mask and a shattered spirit.

shes only seeking a friend. 

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Above

It is dark.

The old ones groan pierces the silence as his back is bent.

I knew he would, I could have expected this.

He surprised me although he didn’t.

A door opens.

The faint light of a single candle shines upon a grinning face.

I deny it, knowing that I know he knows.

It hurt, although it didn’t.

Paradox Of Love

Folder: 
Acrostic Poetry

I'm waking up every morning filled with
despair that Ive started the day having
thoughts of you in my mind. They always
remind me of my wasted efforts that will never
give me a reason to smile and feel inspired;
Soon after, tears began to fall, rushing from my eyes
And when I remember the times we were together,
I wished I didn't spend any of those moments with you. Un-
happiness just immediately conquer my heart, letting me feel so
disappointed that I let myself to feel very un-
grateful that I've had the chance to be with you.
with that, I'm more willing to forget everything about you.
The love, care and concern that I expressed for you
is not even true. My indifference and coldness for you
increases daily. The more I see you, the more
you appear in my eyes as an object of discomfort. Eventually
I would see myself in every way, determined
to hate you. I assure you that I'll never live
to love you because I always expect nothing but the
content to be with my friends to cover up for the dis-
pleasure of being with you. Believe me,
I regret the day that I knew you plus
the fact that I'm really in love with you is
not true. You never mean anything to me. You're not
giving me the motivation to hold on. I hope that we will
never ever talk with each other again. I don't even want to
fix things up between us. I want you
to go away and never ever consider of coming
back. I also wanted you to know that I'm
finally learning to move on and that I'm not even
REALLY MISSING YOU!

P.S.
Please read between the lines

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This isn't a poem. This is a message, a letter, for a man who didn't care nor consider a lady's attempt to clarify things going on between them. More often, it is really the men(some or many) who are unfathomable. (Just from my view-point). The idea of this letter is not originally came from me. But I revised the whole message to tell what I really felt. If a man can't be read, then you should try reading this one, considering a lady's mind too. I hope you get the REAL message.

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pretty

pretty from the outside
pretty ugly from the inside!

dreamy eyes, rotten mind
succulent lips, venomous spit!
more pills, one pound less...

perfect citizen, messed up fantaisies
sickening lullaby
bitten by the hardcore

one step down
well done

designer dress, bag of turds
dead body, my best outfit!

pretty from the outside
pretty ugly from the inside...

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

to all fashion lovers...
a touch of anger, with a cheecky smile....

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