Best Causeless Poems
BOUND
We’re bound from birth, our path too clear
Conformity reigns, we dare to veer
Play it straight and fall in place
Buckle down, you’ll win the race
Need for expression, no need for that
Everyone needs to wear the same hat
Wander off course or stray from path
You’re ostracized, beware the wrath
Creative types, you know the ones
Their unkempt hair and lack of funds
The artsy crowd without a care
Berets worn black, causeless flair
Yet abstract form and deviceful eye
Radiate light on gray streaked sky
Without free thought we play the fools
We must transcend archaic rules
Linear thinking it has its place
In modern times it makes a case
But if one dares to lose one’s face
I just might love this human race
When I go deep down
to find a cause behind
I find nothing but a Seeker
and a causeless causer
This earth is round
with which are so bound
Everything revolves around
like the circles of the smoker
Roaming around the world
being a globe trotter
Everybody seems to be a part of
same story of the same writer
Running to be a better
climbing the success ladder
But valley on the sides
becomes deeper and deeper
Tried being a friend
a healer and a lover
But the distance always became
more longer and longer
There was no start
and there will not be any end
The show will always be on
with the smiling Joker
Nobody will be escaped
either king or a beggar
All will float in peace
sooner or a later
In this decade: pizza, soda,
Colonel Sanders,
burgers only fifteen cents;
"Tutti Frutti,"
sock hops, "mooning,"
Rock and Roll (monumental consequence);
Rosa's bus ride,
suburbs, fluoride,
escalating sales,
vaccine for polio;
Mickey Mouse Club,
Haley, Hitchcock,
Davy Crockett,
drive-ins,
Fats Domino;
Causeless Rebel crashing car,
bouffant hairdos,
"har dee har har;"
Elvis on TV
and ME.
Threading Hunger’s Needle
by Odin Roark
Acumen's voice smolders quietly
When deafened ears respond only
To discords of witlessness.
Perception's heat invites comfort,
Its embers remaining alive,
Its wake of constant resolve
Lifts vigils of swirling persuasion,
Choking away illiteracy,
Ignoring cross or sickle waved ominously.
Ever present, creation’s insight
Remaining airborne in a void for those
With causeless breath being held,
Affecting not its surroundings,
Forever stale within ether locked,
Where roiling chasms of fear
Exude odiferous spoilage,
Rotting,
Polluting,
Repelling.
Such misery holds steady,
Amidst the multitudes’ repeated indulgences of flesh,
Where masses’ quintessential reptilian skin
long overdue for shedding
remain stagnant.
But cling it will,
This resistance to reflection and growth,
Feeling falsely safe in unknowing
The rewards of philological pondering,
Literature’s sign and verbal,
Touch and smell,
Eye and ear,
An all-sensitive motion
Making ready transference from literal
To one’s personal ethereal possession.
For some…
A chosen distance remains preferred.
A huddled observation from
Deep in the abyss of ignorance,
Convinced personal importance is to perish alone
Amidst a cacophony of unresolved noise.
Always close by, however…
Wisdom’s whisper continues to nurture hunger’s tenacity,
Knowing a needle unthreaded is of little use.
I got a phone call from the police
saying I was dead
That was news to me,
getting shot four times in the head
Within the hour the rumor had spread,
hey, did you hear about Fred
They thought Freddie was dead,
Freddie was dead
DOA was what the police report said
They thought Freddie was dead,
Freddie was dead
DOA was what the news report said
I hope you never lose your driver's license,
the one without the photo ID
A criminal could become you, technically
Mistaken identity
can give you and your family
a whole lot of stress
A causeless calamity
is something we can all agree
creates an awful mess
So if you ever get a wrong phone call,
telling you that you died that day
Missing your own funeral is perfectly okay
Diseased incubator of mutated humanity
A festering cesspool of rotten ideals,
And ancient plots of religious restraint
Or the liberation from.
Acidic with greed and selfishness.
Base and seductive, the nature of societal allure
Indulgence, self-satisfaction and gross misconduct
Or just inaction is even worse.
At least those atrocious individuals have a spine.
They have picked a side.
Bought into all we are suppose to.
Grow up believing and hoping to become a productive member of.
The death machine they are rivets on a gear.
They may not be hero's or martyrs but they know their place.
You on the other hand remain complacently paralyzed in fear.
Can not recognize bondage for what it is , what it makes you.
A spineless disgrace. A causeless activist with no identity.
A blank slate, a featureless face.
for Sue, forevermore
(Tribute to Emily Dickinson and Susan Gilbert: an attempt)
You remind me that I’ve got blessings to count,
Albeit disguised as despair beneath daisies --
You remind me that there’s no grace in saving face,
for the truth comes out eventually --
You remind me of an old familiar body ache,
One that lingers intermittently; causeless --
You remind me of mystery in a murderous ploy,
but the truth bends easily --
You remind me of everything and nothing at all,
A violent outburst that calms my soul --
A sole firefly in my darkest of nights;
Alas, I can’t put out the fires you’ve set in my garden of lies --
Hunger's Needle
Acumen's voice smolders quietly
when deafened ears respond only
to discords of witlessness
Wisdom's heat invites comfort
its embers remain alive
its wake of constant resolve
lifts vigils of swirling persuasion
choking away illiteracy
ignoring cross or sickle waved ominously
Ever present
Creation's insight
remaining airborne in a void for those
with causeless breath being held
affecting not its surroundings
forever stale ether locked
roiling chasms of fear
exuding odiferous spoilage
rotting
polluting
repelling
Such misery holds steady
among repeated indulgences of flesh
the masses' quintessential reptilian skin
long overdue for shedding
But cling it must
this resistance to reflection and growth
feeling safe in unknowing
the rewards of philological pondering
Sign and verbal
touch and smell
eye and ear
an all-sensitive motion
making ready transference from literal
to ethereal possession
For some
a chosen distance is preferred
a huddled observation from
deep in the abyss of ignorance
self-importance perishing alone
amidst a cacophony of unresolved noise
while wisdom's whisper
continues to thread hunger's needle
Last year’s alarm clock by my beside silently, vigilantly ticked away until 4:02 AM
In the hour of Platonic picture-perfect darkness kept company solely by the bloodshot red
Of the alarm clock reading 4:02 AM
And a suspicious newcomer, causing panic like a foreigner in a shtetl, arrived
In my abdomen, pain, as from machete clutched by any modern horror-flick fiend
Or ancient Mayan warrior bronzed by the timeless sun, who had seen it all by then
Pain induced, and the panic of ignorant xenophobia at this alien agony, nameless
Causeless, baseless
And I, car-less, helpless to the whims of any pluricellular stowaway aboard the meals I ate
Or long-waiting malcontent festering quietly at my expense, awaiting my moment of weakness,
Before crashing the drums of revolution,
Or even maverick cell born of my own body, swearing me the true enemy
And the alarms are sounded too late, or rather too early, before any outside force can be
called
So I collapse into the indifferent suede of the sofa,
With mutable chestnut Rorschach blots on the cushion shadowing our past encounters,
And I conduct the grand electronic symphony that permits the tinny notes of
Arlo Guthrie’s guitar, which shoot like bullets, speed like beams of light
Across the years from 1967 to today, from Stockbridge to my apartment
To me, son of Abraham, of Isaac, of Jacob, and of a thousand other fathers
My world defined by pasts, by traditions, by the presents of others.
The pain subsides like the tide, backing away foot by foot as it glares me in the eye
Grudging me victory, in the battle, anyway, though the war may be yet begun,
So I nestle in my quasi-significant nook in time, as in the hug of an oversized sofa,
Between the aftershock of near-death and the afterglow of “Alice’s Restaurant”
And I hope my present may too hurdle across impossible chasms
Like Wells’ Argonauts, my presently unknown gifts,
May suffice as to be a past for the present of another
To voyage to the future to comfort their solace, though my hand may be eternal still,
Like the acoustic guitar that had its day in 1967
My dear Lord Hari,
You are the supreme attainment for all living beings.
Each day devotees drink the nectar of chanting your holy name.
They pray to the acharyas
To understand your pastimes,
Which is like food for the stomach,
And honey to the ear.
Blessed are those who take shelter of your lotus feet,
Where even the lowest of creatures may find solace
In your causeless mercy.
All the denizens of the earth cheer and beat their kettle drums,
Surly has the goddess of fortune found us.
Haribol!
See not through shaded sight,
Susceptible to shadows which weave intricately 'gainst what better left to the naked eye.
Remove such stiflings so that the stars might shine through the soul,
Seeping into mine own.
Oh vision, where do you reside?
Does not the blind man see what the ignorant can't?
Where's the insight that, without,
One will walk amongst the world blind and causeless,
A foggy illusion of their truths the mere mirage of a desert?
And a desert indeed with the sand rising up,
Raising clouds of dust to better hide what the eye already could not discover,
Must be cast away to step forth into the light.
Artiste
Artiste
But JUDGE please I'm an Artiste. The only thing that eye am guilty of is loving my
country and my flag and having a strong sense of school spirit. The Judge
pondered long and hard and looked so intense it unnerved the bailiffs'
wife. “Graffiti is a crime” the JUDGE intoned I'm sending you to prison for your life.
The courtroom was astonied. You are under arrested and locked away from all
temptation to ever write your name in graffiti letters in the bathroom of the collage
library ever again and further more. “Wait”. There was commotion from the
doorway to the hall. The gremlin was only two feet tall. He said this very fast “do
not send the student to the prison list it was this gremlin that painted this graffiti
on the wall and even though eye am only two feet tall my arm is longer than the
door and eye can paint with my fingernail the ooze comes out of me my finger is
the marker and it pleases me to make a contribution to the cause of causeless
causes on your wall. The bailiff's wife faded and fainted. The Judge was heard a
knocking at his knees and everyone heard his voice though it was very faint. This
is what the JUDGE now had to say. “Release the prison let all the prisoners go
and paint let them mark up all the bathroom walls on every gate and doorway in
the land. The Gremlin has admitted to this crime and taken all the children's
places in his mind. We have the artiste now well in hand.”
Please, fancy not stone field:
It assures none crop yield.
From death won't one shield,
When guns one's killers wield...
Only a big name yield:
"A Landlord" owners wield
And causeless questions field
From the press that lands shield!
Then, choose between crop yield
And mere names that lands wield:
From those of a stone field
I shan't fail to self shield
I feel for next-house Nora
Getting poorer and poorer:
A plant facing stem borer
While she seems a goal scorer
Her idle hours rarer
State of things not fairer...
Nora's younger: Victoria
Is doing well in Pretoria
And her cousin Eugenia
Sure to become engineer ;
In South Africa clever
And there could live forever
No causeless xenophobia
When with host shares her beer...
I feel for striving Nora
Refused loan by rich Dora
Who drives the cleanest Bora
And exudes sparkling aura.
Sorry we say to Nora
Sleeping lightly; no snorer.
Like a whip-sword with a blade, it looked humble and curled.
I thought it's the softest pink sapphire in the world.
In your brawl with me, for causeless cause, when you swore
Endless embers of volcanoes gushed from your core.
Your pessimism, like toxin-puffed balloons, soared high
A pain from within me throbbed into a sigh
Scorn, like fire from fighting swords, from you blazed forth
Is there, deep within you, an inferno of wrath?
Did I, in the past, shun showing you my favour?
I, now, feel ashamed to have you as my neighbour.
I thought you're precious and preserved you as a pearl.
What tempest, I don't know, turned you a pool of whirl.
Though storms taunt time and again, do Banyan trees weep?
With your thorny, rude words, I feel awake from sleep.
No one can make rules for me to live with a snake.
What use is a neighbour who gives nothing but ache?