Best Diogenes Poems
To every thing there is a season,
A time to bring the reasoning,
Higher logic` of heart’s project,
Into view, for the mind to review,
For some say the mind` is the only logic,
Leaving love’s heart without a project,
This mistake, takes the cake,
From this illusion` humanity must awake,
For tis the season` for higher reasoning,
And this will we do, as through God we pursue,
Love’s higher logic` God’s higher project,
An undertaking` of re-awakening,
A mind asleep, by it’s peep,
God’s Logic; the cosmic of higher mind’s project,......................................(Isaiah 55:8-9)
Love’s Faith; built on higher logic,..............................................(Hebrews 11:1-3 & 5-6)
Not on humanity’s` earthly minded projects,
For it will always try to dodge it,
By lower logic,
Actually` enough said, the lower mind level logic` is dead,.......................(Genesis 2:16-17)
While actually, God’s higher logic, the cosmic mind’s project, did not dodge it,
Respect of love` gave the choice to man, the level of plan,
By level of chosen logic, man chose his own project,
By tree of life, or tree of strife,
Would it be life, by tree of life,
Or death’s tree, of the mind’s strife,
The heart's, sacred start,
Or mind’s depart, from it’s heart,
Now you know the rest of the story, life’s glory,
For death was impaled, the stake did not fail, love swelled,...............(Colossians 2:13-14)
Drawing us all by love, above,
The logic of death,
That death` the mind did bequeathed,
Leave the dead dogs, lying in the grass,
For death has passed!!
Dedication; "Diogenes Zuniga " I though of your personal undying faith in Love, the higher
logic of God, who is love. All the while I was writing this, may God richly reward you with
many fruits of love's logical righteousness, for it is the true riches of heaven. Stay logical, in
love, my brother. Sincerely, Moses
9-25-09 johnmosesfreeman@yahoo.com
Categories:
diogenes, inspirational, love, mysterydeath, god,
Form:
Rhyme
when it comes to the travails
of the human heart
logic is a poor study
as Diogenes' wisdom gathers a lantern
searching in vain
there is a deeper reasoning
among the bats gathered in the belfry
ratiocination resting on a slippery slope
grasping at a coherent balance
amidst a pyroclastic flow
and although it makes little sense
it never really had to
the sensory faculty never met
with any goal other than
leap before the bottom falls out
and why Vulcans put forth their take
live long and prosper
it keeps the children coming
as well as the undying poetry written
in song as DJs are given to say
this tune is dedicated to
the one that got away
Oregon 10/23
Categories:
diogenes, cinderella, destiny, fate, humorous,
Form:
Romanticism
Continuation from previous poem
We reached the footer of a castle steep,
Seven times by walls encircled very tall,
Defended by a river hard to leap.
We overpassed it as hard ground at all;
Through seven doors I entered with these wise:
We reached a fresh green lawn nice to enthrall.
There were people with old and severe eyes
Whose appearance exuded mighty guide:
They seldom spoke, had voices with sweet rise.
We were turned out then walking far outside,
In open terrain, tall and full of light,
Such as the view of all was just implied.
There straight on, staying over the green bright,
The wonderful souls I was clearly shown
That seeing them in me I feel delight.
I saw Elettra with mates not alone,
Hector and Aeneas were there,
Caesar armed, with eyes of rapacious tone.
I saw Camilla and Pantasilea in pair;
On other side I saw the Latin king
With child Lavinia sat on a chair.
Bruto who Tarquinio pushed out bring,
Lucrets, July, Marsia and Cornelia;
And saw Saladin to solitude cling.
After I elevated a bit more my cilia
I saw sat the master and those who know
Philosophers’ memorabilia.
All him admire, just all is honor grow:
I then saw Socratis and Plato here,
Who well closer to him than others stow;
Democritus, whose world is random mere,
Diogenes, Anaxogoras and Thales then
Empedocles, Heraclitus , Zenon were;
And the good collector I saw when
Dioscoris was; and Orpheus I saw,
Tulio, Lino , Seneca moral been;
Euclid geometric, Ptolemy raw,
Hippocrat, Avicen, Galien too,
Averois, who the great comment foresaw.
I cannot fully tell of all just through,
But the full theme is pushing me so long,
That many times my word becomes not true.
The group of six is now of two less strong:
Another way is choosing my guide bright
Out of the quiet air, to trembling wrong.
And I am going where there is no light.
Categories:
diogenes, fantasy,
Form:
Terza Rima
Diogenes sought an honest man,
appalled by Man's path to destruction.
And searched Athens by lantern at night,
casting light on lies and corruption.
He concluded his search was fruitless;
integrity could be sold and bought.
And Man's willingness to sell His soul;
proved an honest man was vainly sought.
When the hungry specter of greed feeds,
its appetite offers no relief.
And circumvents inconvenient truths;
under the guise of a shared belief.
Man's conscience can discern right from wrong;
yet His morals fell short over time.
And after having fallen so far,
He's corrupt and reluctant to climb.
Categories:
diogenes, angst, culture, feelings, imagery,
Form:
Quatrain
Oh Diogenes if you breathed today what would you have to say about our politicians to wealth do their conscious sway and fall pry. That still small voice barely a whisper heard. Democracy she cries out to our noble land is there one amongst you that can say I am an honest man!
Categories:
diogenes, change,
Form:
Blank verse
Truculent trucks advert young minds; raging down roads breeding new gods as pompous, glitter covered idols carved from primordial blades of fear. Meanwhile pious pieces of magnesium stone get chiseled out of focus, branded by labels of complex empirical realities, numerically based shrines too impenetrable to worship. Help! Is the cry of objective cynics still rumbling in earthenware, readily retracing faint footsteps of Diogenes. Jumping in a wormhole of subjective garments to escape an ill-fitting, elementary pipe dream of unified ideals, gargled then spat from archetypal lips. Blowing away the dandelion fluff to catch a glimpse of act 1, scene 1; unrevised. Before curtains close the gap, leaving a thinning tightrope walk between me and we. Strutting back inside homes where a novelty Christ hangs on drywall masking punched holes of pain, wagging fingers pointing to his prescribed solvent, waiting for tomorrow to unlock today’s faith. When will they point at the mirror wading in dark nooks of conscience’s blurry frame? For he who searches, will seldom find peace beyond arms reach.
Categories:
diogenes, deep, faith, introspection, jesus,
Form:
Free verse
Diogenes, philosopher in Greece,
was said to be a dawdler. "Devil finds
some seedy work for idle hands, don´t fleece
our youth!" He saw the walls in people´s minds
who all declined his odd and frugal life.
He lived on bread and water, beans and fish,
without belongings, even without wife.
King Alexander promised a free wish:
"Ask anything of me, so make your choice!"
Got speedy answer: "Stand out of my light."
The famous king confessed with lowered voice:
"So eastwards now, the Persians I will fight.
But if I were no king I´d seek your peace,
Diogenes, philosopher in Greece."
May 13, 2022
Orphan Sonnet Poetry Contest, sponsored by Emile Pinet
Orphan Sonnet with a rhyme scheme of Abab - cdcd - efef - aA,
10 syllables per line in three quatrains, and a final couplet
with the last line repeating the opening line.
Categories:
diogenes, history, philosophy,
Form:
Sonnet
Diogenes holds a lantern
Hypnotized- the faint light
Eyes search all nooks and turn
Desire in them makes them bright
Drank no voda only lie and deception
Hegemonized- lost- sick of hunger
Pathologized- TRUTH the only medication
Unconscious he is with thirst growing stronger
But, egregious- incorrigible or glib
It’s all he finds- the chronic liars
The consummate and congenital lie lay down deep
Inveterate they are unconscionable buyers
He’s finished his search in Athens
Hope’s alive! The hill thus flattens
Categories:
diogenes, courage, faith, trust, truth,
Form:
Sonnet
Thank you fellow poets in poetry soup
For leaving all your kind thoughts and critiques
You have given me the inspiration to continue on
And for that I am humbled and grateful
May twenty ten be filled with many more wonderful memories
God bless you always, Dean
Carol Brown, Charmaine Chircop, Christy Hardy, Audrey Carey, Gary La Buda,
Anthony Nutter, Caroline Cécile Paczynski, James Fraser,
Patricia Adams, L'nass Shango, Simone Segal,
Sara Kendrick, Constance La France, Jessica Arteaga, Andrew Crisci,
Mary Meade Stephenson, Robert A. Dufresne, Derrick Burton, Carolyn Devonshire,
Linda-Marie Bariana, Karen O'Leary, Krista Kurth, Richard Pickett, Geoffery McHugh,
John Loving iii, Juliane Thomas, Deborah Guzzi, Andrew Crisci, Joshua Lacey ,Tara Jennings,
Eduardo Orozco, by Diane Christian, James Marshall Goff, Larissa Sanchez, Marty Owens,
Jon Sledge, Sharon Weimer, Ernilando Tugaff, Nathan Leccese, Angie Washine,Kat Crane
Donna Golden, John Freeman, Lena Townsend, Barbara Gorelick, Jodie Quintero,
Matthan Atherton, Catie Lindsey, Diogenes Zuniga, Sue Mason, Kate Mcnaughton,
Trudy Diane Rider, Kate W, Amber Jenkins, John Freeman, Amber Jenkins, Krystal Cochrane,
Prince Freakasso, Abe Lopez, Autumn Page, Tumelo Ame Mogotsi, Becky Harmon
Derrick Burton, Jessica Kellems, Rebecca Pasco, Michael Jordan, Izzy Gumbo
Ernilando Tugaff, Laura Mckenzie, Raul Moreno, Vince Suzadail Jr., Adeleke Adeite
Cherica Eckiwaudah, Nathan Leccese, Cesar Cantu, Justin Hensley
Categories:
diogenes, thank youautumn,
Form:
Free verse
I sat with rum and Joan Baez the other day
Writing up three poems in Bombay
One short another crooked
Yet not quite a disaster
The other long and sad
Not very bad but still not much more
Than a chinchilla whore
In her teens, plump, with baby fat
Still around her cheekbones, shoulders, waistflesh
Trellised eaves
A tooting car on Cadell Road
Dusk falling, friends out on a binge,
I alone in the darkening flat
Joan Baez on my knee her voice from the cassette recorder
Blurring the border between voice and flesh
And letting them enmesh
Wafting out over lonely streets
Climbing the Pali Hills
Sidling in stealth by private yew hedges
To caress like silk the legs of a party
Falling to pieces at only six-thirty
Prosaic, proselytizing like Diogenes in the bin
Beard straggling all over an obdurate chin
Breathe in the voice let the pictures go by
Looking for a conjuror in the sky
And confused, return
Dreams back to ashes, ashes to the urn
Quiet in the knowledge that ashes don’t burn.
They say some poetry
Is coming out of me
Juice wrung out by iron teeth
From the tender heart of a slender tree.
Categories:
diogenes, nostalgiavoice, voice,
Form:
Free verse
Oh great courtesan of ancient Athens
Remove your cloths and step into the sea.
Astound the hearts of men and women,
A divine answer to all prayer and plea.
The King of Lydia sought out your grace,
But for all his wealth you found him loathsome.
He enslaved his people to pay your price,
Yet to Diogenes' mind: You succumb!
The great mysteries did you dare profane,
Disrobing yourself you gained acquittal.
You rebuilt the walls and attached your name.
Sculptors, thinkers, all found you sensual.
Oh great paramour! Were you around today.
I now wonder what I would have to pay.
Categories:
diogenes, passion, people, places, prayer,
Form:
Sonnet
A Tortoise
By Stina Lu
You keep silent,
In all seasons.
Like the Buddist,
Meditating
Even your breath
seems redundant.
You reject everything
Food or water.
Your are blind
Smell the direction and danger
You desire for nothing
Not care life or death
You're Diogenes,
Stand in Plato's Utopia.
You represent the beauty and justice of Socrates,
Your shadow is the absolute Geist of Hegel.
You're a little philosopher
On my balcony
Categories:
diogenes, addiction,
Form:
Free verse
Walking in curiosity's footprints,
I wander through life like a beachcomber.
Placing wit above life's trinkets and chintz,
I seek thinkers and poets like Homer.
Many peg me as a shiftless roamer,
but I am anything but commonplace.
The cosmos gave me a glimpse of God's face,
and my soul knew that there was so much more.
Humanity defines the human race:
godlike, with a predilection for war.
I value my memories more than gold,
flashes of how it felt to be alive.
For recollections can't be bought or sold;
they're private places where emotions thrive;
shifting conscious thoughts into overdrive.
I don't follow fools who would burn witches;
I've more respect for those who dig ditches.
Diogenes searched for an honest man
amongst the schemers, hoarding their riches:
and though he couldn't find one, I'm still a fan.
Categories:
diogenes, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Dizain
"Blushing is the color of virtue."
You're done.
You melt like a sigh
on the lips of angels.
You've drained
the paleness of injustice,
your own hands tangled up,
aw, the square stare of the truth,
impassable duel of the pupils.
Your hands are filled with the face of our tragedy,
witherering among the sidereal flowers,
a cursed sunset,
a lamp lit in the wee hours,
no truce is better than advancing to the edge of yourself,
throwing yourself into the fire of the stars,
crossing the hard core time;
with flimsy memories
descending into a blessed hell.
You want to die with the lamp lit,
not talk about anything that gives you away
when you smoke compulsively,
tramontane and bold,
you know how pliable is the scroll of fear.
You are bad, Diogenes,
with your airs of moldy poet,
twitching the neurons of those who feel
that Truth is even more pliable,
Come here, my ox, my friend.
Categories:
diogenes, character, color, courage, endurance,
Form:
Free verse
Sitting outside with loose papers on my lap,
a gust blew the top two pages away.
It was a poem that contained some creatures
and the usual clouds and mists
and how fossils feel about mountains.
Like a Borges story, it contained the past and future
and how time distorts yet fuels our ability to love.
I jumped up and chased it down the road,
the poem containing metaphysical doubts
about existence, my own and yours,
and how everything doesn’t mean anything.
There was a buzzing hornet
and Diogenes’ mordant laughter
and it listed the questions that answer themselves
– Will I be born? Do I crave applause?
But it was gone, my best poem ever,
eaten by cactus or the wind.
Categories:
diogenes, angst, books, creation, philosophy,
Form:
Lyric