Best Collectives Poems
The universe is immeasurable,
we are merely infinitesimal
machinery keeping pace,
as churning cogs tick wildly
transmitting within allotted time,
attempting heartbeats' cohesion
clocking our own honed destinations,
accumulating illusions 'tween masses
waiting to return as a speck of dust
in the never-ending saga of
inexhaustible collectives amidst
systematically creative contrivances
Monday
what a astonishing day !
the doors opened
and everyone runs away ...
Car Assemblies
debate the road,
festival of colors
parade in clothes ...
Monday of
cheerful faces,
flash happiness
similar to pasta
instantaneous ...
Talking collectives,
talking shorts
and bermudas ...
collective madness ...
and they all come
to the conquest of the sea!
fast food invasion
revolution of leisure ...
Joyful Monday
no ugly face ...
without stormy monday
just holidays ...!
when will it be?
Timeless hearts are borne amid a myriad of collectives colourful arrays ~
Yet sometimes I do not whisper soft enough although, when I should
While being dipped in these many different hues; a world which paints
Myself a soulful muse; that I truly could be most things for all concerned....
Re-tying a ponderings bow of hopefuls moment within this wishing wells
Vision; and what is my greatest desires most perfect made dreams?!
Holding that of life; warmly and gently within these, forever loving palms
Touching everything that their beauties may feel deep inside; tenderly
Melting into their worlds emotions; both night and day; a passions ride....
Knowing that we live in a tainted and cynical place; poison for the most
In shadows left brushing wings and whom can walk away, unscathed?!
But in spite of it all there does so remain, beauty; as a soothing ointment
Pleasing aside this guiding breeze; enchanting, its reassuring melody ~
Empathy, compassion, joy, laughter, tears, pain; these beautiful eyes....
Precious and priceless and sometimes I do not whisper, soft enough!?
***********************************************************
....“At The Wishing Wells of Love” *
Learning but not understanding
Touching but not feeling
Seeing but not reaching
Life is irrelevant
Collectives are sufficient
Futile for resistances
As we are efficient
But
With my connection severed
I am no member
Now lost forever
When I have regenerated
I will be evaluated
Then I will be assimilated
Because I am Borg
each snowflake has a unique take on six
no duplicates. how can this be? says me
then i remember – why not crystal pics?
identical twins differ – same old tree
variation challenges all we see
heads, hearts, arms, legs, eyes, ears – change perceptions
collectives reveal nature’s deception
same pattern – creativity unfolds
communities’ still breathing sensation
no clones but distinctive character molds
Expressions of the abstract,
Thoughts we can't retract,
Exquisite solar towers
of our mindful powers,
Into the glass ceiling,
Collectives of ideas and feelings,
Whence these expressions of abstract?
Thoughts we can't retract......
Peace performs paradise
Living loving never leaving
Singing soothing speaking
Happy hopeful harmony
Collectives circumvent corruption
Zealously zippy zesty
The blindfold I see
for the fairness we gain,
not one be distinct
for the laws to remain,
but what of the chains
we have bound to our hand?
The scales of such weight
and the strength they command?
Were it mine to define
I would say it as such,
though sadly some wouldn’t
agree with as much.
That this is the place
where our senses collide,
our collectives of knowing
where truth strains to hide.
Where the people shall bring
what they’ve seen and they’ve heard.
What they’ve touched and they’ve smelled,
be it sane or absurd.
To protest the distaste
of a tongue being used
to act in bad faith
through a trust in abuse.
There lay the knowledge
of harm that’s been done
tipping the scales
to vantage for one.
In accordance of what
we believe right and true,
this is how justice
is served unto you.
For never shall merely
the sole sense of seeing
be all that is used
to adjudicate being
Let the weight of our knowledge
be put to the scales
lest to truth behind justice
stays hidden and fails.
From source Emanations reverent
Spaces born of oneness collectives
Infiltrate infinity prize prism clouds
Freeing premier born Divine Nexus knots.
Pulse towers of vacuum awakenings
Cross vast voids, returning to Light.
Forgotten planets pilot plot
Trans dimensional torrent tearing,
Luminescent love waves weave
Dematerialized spirals secreting sentient
Sentient staggered transmissions.
Reflections of Reality permeate
Into other expansions revealing
Silent stirs of universal echoes.
Destinies of beings, Galaxy's child,
Creates conscious codes of Existence.
Synchronicity glides effortlessly
among ancient star chronicled
corporeal prophecies.
Ominous omnipresence.
Potpourri of collections
Hug of affections
Season of winters
Track of sprinters
Road of cars
Street of bars
Pad of flies
Pod of eyes
Tin of sardines
Western of jeans
View of lens
Peck of hens
Pulpit of preachers
Lesson of teachers
Smack of bottoms
Perfume of blossoms
Fist of thugs
Bed of bugs
Table of logs
Circle of cogs
Score of musicians
Face of beauticians
Kiss of loves
Peace of doves
Whistling of birds
Conversation of words
Blind of blinkers
Twitch of winkers
Curve of bends
Finale of ends
~~~
Inspired by “An Exaltation of Larks” by James Lipton
The Islamists claim that their views
are the very words of God,
and when they try to make it real,
it just ends up in death and rot.
They can’t stop folks from drinking,
or bringing music to their ears,
can’t stone all the ‘adulteresses’
if they had one thousand years.
Yet they try and all that it brings
is widespread misery and death,
though they live in war, they haven’t learned
to embrace the chaos yet.
The Socialist thinks they are good
for the poor across the world,
but every time they live their thoughts
only genocide is unfurled.
The collectives miss their quotas,
basic supplies soon run short.
They solution? Need more power!
Always more and more and more…
To control human economies
is a foolish, unwise bet,
they seek control and haven’t learned
to embrace the chaos yet.
The Utopian wants to build
a world where it’s all worked out,
problems solved so none suffers,
no hate, no fear, and no doubts.
But what’s ideal for a single mind,
assuming it can even exist,
is anathema to most others,
who soon stand up and resist.
Do they abandon the great dream,
or do they turn to anger red?
Usually that later, they haven’t
embraced the sweet chaos yet.
The truth of it is that ideals
play a similar role to faith,
when one alone does rule the roost,
society slides into hate.
But when no one can rule it all,
when they must always compete,
they you have a state in which
men and women can live free.
Our Founders knew this long ago,
when they structured our county,
low-level chaos is no ill,
it’s a damn necessity!
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
What is Art?
Art is made.
So therefore Art has a Maker or Makers.
Art can be made by a solitary maker or through the collaboration of 2 or more Makers.
In order to answer ‘what is art?’ it is necessary to ask;
who is the Maker of Art and why does the Maker make it?
Individual human beings or collectives are the makers of Art and why do individual human
beings make art is the question, which gives us the answer to ‘what is art?’
Fanfarons run amok
Frowsting in stupidity
Farouche in mind, words and deeds
Fastuous yet in demeanor
Farrago collectives formed there from
Ferulaceous in nature thus bending
Falling or breaking in due course
Inspired by Kim Merryman's Pleiades F - Poetry Contest
"Facets" was my entry into said contest
When i was a young boy - ink stained test once with the girl
and the ink was sweet he 'said';
it made us unclean this test, from the man for he was the tester;
And that picture my bat of her 'poet' who he said, is nude
from scandal's shrewdly fled this country in white does it black
with all the butterflies he knew colored pink and blue.
Open i flew it as useless and the color of the rich man
actually can't; it's hiding in places love we deceived him.
The boy saw these people with their political advancement
of stages, i 'said' which is normal,
and doctor with the boy with her nose that last time
and the fact that love always fights and bites and claws it's way,
too the top, never forever restrained.
When prepubescent the boy;
and why being many you were once like this tried to think
and the boy and now the man was unwound
yo-yo's and string.
and the ink went round the stain, falling back up came too life.
The most normal response given to us when it's her time
and time is to him at it's most dangerous when currant.
and in compliance with the easy artist starves
and to use fear to make it open so eagerly and does too be fed.
Doctor that seeks with her one thing only and boys too,
which loves as his own and too the boy as well.
They don't mind joined together,
and will join in and his thing spreads our undergarment,
The nurse will reveal and the ink of the scrutineer will listen,
that (thing)their his will that place negated.
Dr. Rippy while the doctor undermines our credibility
and deducts from her finger when his is pointing
and before showing her/his thing,
rubbing ours together,
bored we think for his amusement, i think he
respects not our past collectives.
and took off points for our quick thoughts.
Ink blot tests, bats fly and poo, eyes cry and you?
While the rest of us whom would not be deceived,
received royal attention of electroshock therapy.
I have always wondered why, they would want you to forget
all of that which never really happens, but in dreams?
Dr.Rippy practiced psychiatry on children
in Tampa Florida when I was a child.
James McLain Sunday, February 21, 2010
You hear the term bandied about,
used to justify everything,
this catch-all phrase, ‘social justice,’
its praises some constantly sing.
It has become their shibboleth,
to oppose it is heresy,
should someone not buy into it
you will hear the chorus of “Reeeee!”
They claim it is the moral path,
agree with it or be cancelled,
but even quick examinations
reveals it as a load of bull.
And worst off their bad ideas
undermine actual justice,
since that is individual,
‘social’ justice can never exist.
Human beings aren’t ‘collectives,’
groups themselves are just abstractions,
you do not answer for others,
or pay for the things that they’ve done.
If you look like a known murderer
you don’t go to jail for their crime,
yet these ‘social’ justice nitwits
use this principal all the time!
They claim that if your skin is pale,
then by nature you must oppress,
even if you have done nothing
that entitle others to redress.
They claim that if your skin is dark,
a victim you always must be,
even if you have suffered no crime
and are going through life nicely.
A moral mind would look at this,
say, “F-ck off, leave those guys alone,”
since neither committed a crime,
there’s nothing to condemn or condone.
But to live and let people live
is not something the left abides,
so they go looking for problems,
some evil that they can ascribe.
They scream sh-t like ‘unconscious bias’
to turn good people into fiends,
it doesn’t matter you’ve done no wrong,
they need to make you feel guilty.
They dig out past wrongdoings done
by people who are long since dead,
then scream that, somehow, it’s your fault,
that those sins belong on your head.
But you are not responsible
for a past when you did not live,
these things are no genetic, no,
you’ve no reason to feel like sh-t.
You’re only a criminal if
a crime is committed by you,
and you’re only a victim if
you’ve suffered from crime, that’s truth.
You cannot just look at some group
and declare they are good or bad,
you judge people one at a time,
to not do so is bloody mad...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.