Best Dumbness Poems
(Invisibility)
In a busy time, we forget to see "the human and beautiful nature"
forget to breathe ...
We follow the "red arrows" ... and "the power of money"
Live and die of stress and loneliness -
It doesn't matter if it's day or night -
No one sees you ...
Like dust grains in dumbness
Don't be afraid to go into taciturnity
It will create depth in the relationship with yourself
Hush, hush ... listen ... time of harmony
Seek and allow for pearls of muteness
Some brief moments of stillness
Busy people and orchids still breathe
Blessed pockets that provide power,
strength and muscle relaxation
When reusing the colors from the last sunset
The eyes of the cube quietly closed
No ransom requirement, or red arrows
13/10/2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
It's difficult, but please try to understand,
my behaviour is something I cannot command.
At first I'll be serene like a sweet daydream,
but then unstable and intensely extreme.
Enter at your own risk, but be aware,
loving me can turn into a nightmare.
I'm like a grenade, don't pull my trigger,
I'll explode your mind with raging rigor.
My infatuation is like poetic idealisation,
but feeling unloved leads to devaluation.
The first hint of believing you're quitting,
will result in my psyche automatically splitting.
When I begin to feel like I'm not good enough,
I'll try to push you away and call your bluff.
You may label my actions as pathetic dumbness,
but this is me feeling empty with numbness,
so I make no apologies for the ghosting silence,
when my demons set restrictions like sly tyrants.
I try to block out regular paranoid suspicions,
so don't think I'm petty when setting conditions,
but with abandonment issues, I struggle to trust.
Please be sensitive as being patient is a must.
Be warned, my moods are regularly inconsistent.
My double standards may make you feel distant.
I need constant reassurance that you are only mine,
because insecurities make my sanity decline.
I don't want you to suffer like lovers who came before.
When I want to leave, don't let me run out of the door.
I just want to be loved with all my flaws accepted,
instead of being rejected, lonely and neglected.
Treat me gently and my self doubt will settle,
love me sincerely and I'll bloom like a precious petal.
Silent One
28 September 2021
MORNING DELIGHT
In one clasps of our hands
Suddenly the murmurings
Are becoming warm and intense
As boldness left behind dumbness
As together now we sing melodious
Songs, caressing. kissing, and playfully dance
Till the wee hours which greatly inspired us.
Even the dawning sun it seems
It was kept at bay
And the stars twinkling and clapping
Witnessing how sweet we have shared
A blissful contrast of a newlyweds honeymooning
A balikbayan to waiting gentle hand
Though jittery they stood together to a
morning glory!
Now, shall we let it go
Vis a vis the doldrums
Of yesteryears which we didn't denied
After the high school years
Autographs, roses and chocolates
Were fads of the late 60's yet to a funny fan
Bestows to a man's erudite love for poetry.
The more it comes straight from the hearts
The constancy of exchange writings of messages and poems
Have become part of life's spontaneity
Even at the middle of the night, we are awaken
Laptops connected, phone conversation
Every little sweet words reverberating through!
Term: balikbayan: Overseas Filipino Worker
Dalila Agtani
4/23/11
"Beware Of the Ides of the men on black"
The judges and jurors of our fates, blink.
Every time we will, they will reform it
They even gave them new uniforms
But they preferred the black 'It suits them mos'
And more guns,lesser humanity.
The Leaders of tomorrow are forbidden from seeing the morrows.
Put on rags, glorify poverty;
Just maybe, you will live to see another day of this craze of population control.
While the men on black and their rifle embark on patrol.
Pim pim,
Vroom vroom,
Police vans, parked by road sides
And policemen standing akimbo on major roads
With flash torches, flashing bright lights
Into the faces of incoming drivers
And their passengers if any.
A remainder of
'You better hold change
Or we seize the whole money'
'The Police is Your friend' with stern faces
Hello, young man may we know you.
"Paddy mi, make we gather reach town"
4:20pm, Fresh fine boys gunned downtown.
One, two shots!
Another happy-trigger officer had shot his shots.
"Oga Olopa wetin my pikin do you?"
The oceans flowed endlessly, as their mothers cried.
"Tattoo, dreadlocks, piercing not our culture!"
The Police report read.
For dumbness echoes now, while wisdom has been coerced into a deep sleep.
The toils of tomorrow built with the youth's blood.
GHOPS (Pa Shakespeare) x O.C Adolf
It was Me All Alone ,
On a Dulcet Seashore ,
Trying To Figure Out Which Road I Belong ,
A Freak Step Could Prove Me Wrong....
What To Do ?
What To Do ?
Choose Which Queue ?
Ah Ya ! Mr. Motivator will Help ,
I thought with Just a faint Yelp.
I went To him Straight ,
Waited For Hours On His Gate ,
Because He's The One To Counsel Me ,
The One Who Carefree.
He Explained Me What's Life ,
Be A Hero In The Strife !
Elucidated What's A Battle ,
Be Not Dumb , You Driven Cattle !
His Words Echoed In My ears,
Until He Asked Me , To Cheer.
Why should I Seek For Dumbness To study It ?
It is Of God and Passes Human wit.
I raced Back to the Seashore ,
With Ruminations Of Crores ,
I sat Again ,this Time To Tackle This Battle,
Hearing The Foeman's rattle.
The road Was Taken ,
And I was Through ,
My Road Trip Begun ,
As I Bid Adieu !!
It was Me all Alone ,
On a Dulcet Seashore ,
Trying To Figure Out Which Road I Belong ,
A Freak Step Could Prove Me Wrong !
A lightning-fast swing,
a blinding slap
and a few seconds later – a dull thunder of the leaving thunderstorm.
A numbness of words;
a dumbness of feelings;
a cold wind from the river;
a sad and grievous moan of the coal barges, huddling together.
We’ll never huddle together for warmth anymore;
we'll never talk to each other as good neighbors over the fence of shared memories.
To pop up collar,
to turn around
and to walk away as fast as a counterfeiter
who rushes to get rid of a fake note and flees with change,
without looking back.
18.07.2019
Intransigence Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Collapsed so they say long ago
due to Cleopatra’s long nose
that pierced a General’s heart
got him stuck there in love
till the army was demolished
what terrible accident in history!
Every man, every women
big, small, learned or never
empires, kingdoms, nations
a Cleopatra with long nose
will appear from no where
to intercept and bury surely
things that matter in life
Crumbling effects she brings
the way of life in this world
a mystery it is, doubt you may
but we all live in the world
we know not its laws of work
finger-crossed and dumbness
are the ways but not the habit
Is this about the refuge life,
Leaking the essentials of being submissive…
Or shall the death defy your conscience
In being a human
Imagine the world without eyes
That sans a tiger, a cuckoo, and humanity
Kill the trees, dethrone the kings of jungle
For it seems the idea of thy existence
And now shall thou laugh,
Splintering the grins of progress
A time shall come
even thy smile will be pungent
“I wish” reiterates itself
In an infinite loop
To the screams and knuckles
Of a blemished self-indulgence
Your sanity goes beneath the surface
So does thy shelter
Thy mother nature you seek’d to conform,
To captivate and disassemble
The one that thou sought as a humble alimony
Comes back to seek the answers of questions that were long forlorn
And you’re numb for thy dumbness
so hapless you are
Here goes the world in tatters of pride
and you wait for thy death
lips closed and eyes open wide….
(Dedicated to Judith Sheindlin)
Beauty, often, wrongly makes Assumption
That Morality, Kindness to Others, Smartness
Is not for its Gorgeous Ilk
And everything exists - just for her asking;
But Beauty fades and Dumbness is forever.
In the multitude of counsellors there is life,
Running away implies stabbing yourself with your knife.
I’m inside a cyclone, you think I should run?
You even went on to tag my stagnancy as dumbness,
I’m not a fool you know. Positioned myself in its centre
For I know that in the eye of a cyclone there’s calmness.
You feel I’m off-guard when I actually feel like I’m in a venter.
My birth canal is in the vertical, where I’m not impaired of my view
I fix mine eyes to the heavens where I know there’s my breakthrough.
In the midst of drunkards there’s sure a fog of immature diction.
Engaging means emigrating from the principle of lingual timing.
Words are powerful entities, they can unveil people’s identities.
When your mind is pixilated, the words you speak can intoxicate
Your persistent entity, your individuality. Even if it may be a while
There’s just some hostility about it and what if it compiles
In the long run, leaving your choice of words forever numb?
In a bad company is a formed aura of non-believe,
There’s a rapid leakage of faith with slim chance of retrieve.
The Bible is on point, “bad company corrupts good character”
It is said that character is the you that exists
When all are gone and you have only you in your midst.
Now think, external injections are depriving your character cells nutrients.
The torture is aimed at you, once activated there is severe suffering.
But, you'll have to bear the yoke alone when your God's desired character
Starts to haunt you!
There's fullness of joy in the presence of the Lord
And for those who really seek it, life is never really odd.
FRIDAY, THE 13TH, IS IT AN ANATHEMA?
I, in the bad old days
When medicine derives
Its worth and effectiveness
In the wack-wack days
The herbal and their prayers used to drive away evil spirits.
Our great great grandparents
And our parents during the present times
Still these suppression of truth are pressed
For these beliefs
Which are tried to be repressed
But, somehow, is hard to demise.
But here’s the times when science gets bad
The best of alibi depend
On the number not at all on the figure
Just like their travails in life
Almost always point to an excuse
Because its Friday, the 13th (thirteenth).
Friday, the 13th (thirteenth)
Has become an omen and a superstition
Some sorts pull both their legs
To believe is not a disbelief their IQ is less
But if you heed and forego and the accident unmissed
You are lucky you followed the curse and you survived.
Whether Friday, the 13th is an anathema or a superstition
Its repercussion infused not on the imprecation
Would justify the warning or precaution
An advance knowledge is a wary information
The chronicler who set the calendar is not daydreaming
But he’s full of dumbness, indeed maybe a wisdom man!!
I have always been curious about people from Kurdistan
I wonder why they are called kurds
I wonder when the kurds would become keese
Just like curd becomes cheese
I wonder if birds are called “birds” because they come from “Birdistan”…..
Okay, that kurd-bird joke one time never went down well
One audience I entertained transitioned from swelling to swearing
The agitated audience looked at each other, left and right
The bird joke got me pelted and unhired, now I'm a fly-by-night comic
The joke was inspired by a 12 year kid I once knew, nicknamed “Talk shop”
He used to hang around the market stands and chatted nonstop
The lad knew almost all of the countries with syllables ending with “–stan”
He bragged about Kazakhstan, Tajikstan, Uzbekistan, with the “stans” he was never done
The smart-****’s Turkistan questions hit me like a slap
Unrelentingly he tested me to spot Manhattan on the map
I totally lost my geography to the kids embarrassing pressure
The kid burst into a belly laugh when my finger hovered over Asia
In trying to change the subject, I asked him about the story of Tristan
I was zipped into silence when he told me stick to geography and not romance
I asked the kid what his real name was, and how he got an extra memory chip
He said if he taught me how, the conversation would flip
And then he revealed what his real name was with a “My name is Stan, duh!”
A felt relieved, as adult dumbness left my shoulder
I bet you would know every country and its geographical location
If it was made up of some weird syllables sneaking up on your name
The cocky kid asked me to test him on anything
I went spiritual, a subject the kid probably had no grip on
I asked him why we confess to a priest, if God can directly hear us pray
He said “so that we can have an eye witness on judgment day”
I tried to get rid of the boy by pretending to be bored
But I let the boy stay, when he told me that I would miss him one day when I get old
Listen
To the fools. Wisdom escapes from their mouths
Embroidered with the spiritual puke vodka endows.
Through the dead floorboards beneath me
I listen
To the parties rife with dubstep and dumbness.
Through the dead floorboards beneath me
As a specter
Arises wedding bells,
The adoration of lovely belles
That smile The Smile
of an olden journey
With translucent teal hills that stretch their humps out far
For your wanderlust; sunsets
of sublime, deepest orange,
Cherished candles, then dew flames waving 'Hello' on passerby sills,
Wooden cottages adorned with gingerbread safety and
Respected elderly smiles
All wafting along the piping Cake of Truth.
The Pied Piper's only victory is You.
Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn:
Amare Amare Amare, Veni ad me, Veni ad me.
Non quidem?
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
I have seen your shadow diverge from your face
And hatred consumed me subtle.
I suppose in Earth's languid maw
You snicker at the pox of language;
Miracle depths align as you fix today's sandwich
In anguish
Of the love you shall never have, you’ve lost your chance
in the mirror. We’ve shattered in the mirror and lost it,
Laughing as we realized all along
That I, I was the butt of the world's joke.
I shall go out to sea and fly with the ravens,
But alas,
This fool desires only one known haven:
Wishing well—wish upon a star—
The candles of my few birthday cakes
Never did have such volens potestatum.
Amare Amare Somnium Somnium
I will find you one day,
I will meet you someday,
I will want it to stay,
Oh how I will pray,
For what to say,
On that day,
I will want to be shy,
And make it look like a try,
Maybe I'll just smile,
Maybe I'll just cry,
A little,
Like a baby,
I wont look into your eyes,
I wont look into the skies,
I'll hide like a spy,
Behind my feelings,
I'll draw in the dirt,
With my feet,
The love I can't speak,
I'll express in my shyness,
A difference of boldness,
A beautiful form of timidness,
That would leave you speechless,
But if you speak,
If you say something,
If you say anything,
I will run,
As fast as I can,
Out of myself,
The shell of disguise,
I will cut your speech,
With a gentle kiss,
And let you know,
That it was your beauty,
That took me away,
Your warm presence,
That froze me again,
That thing,
That is in your eyes,
That makes men....
DUMB...
Word Craft Writes.
As the last twinkle
In the brown eyes of Jesus
Faded to heaven
The morning star left Jesus
Darkness covered all
The sun of the archons set
The binding veil torn
Those ones in the sleep of death
Were awakened hence
For the sun of Christ rose up
Envy and dumbness
Were left in the empty tombs
Now they are children
Of the sweet infinite light
Of the sweet white lamb
Though the cup of bitterness
Was always given
To the sons of shining light
By Jerusalem
Yaldabaoth and his archons
In the pride of night
Refused to admit the truth
That they killed Jesus
Allowing Christ to succeed
Which destined their fall
Jews did not deserve their wrath
A wrathful sentence
From the sword of Yaldabaoth
With no foreign aid
The city was encircled
By an iron ring
Cutting them off from the world
Leaving the ash wolf
To burn in their sliced stomachs
The ash to the ash
Men ate the ash of their young
The dust to the dust
Young at the dust of the old
But both lost their soul
The city burned in fury
Turning all to ash
The temple of gold and white
Glory of Saklas
Met flames of orange and red
From his blind fury
Three towers of soot gazed down
At those ones enslaved
At Hades's consuming flames
And stood with the sky
As a last testimony
Of heaven's glory
By the order of Titus
The glorious gold
Of the second day's temple
Was ripped out proudly
By the gold feathered eagle
With a purple tongue
The temple's gold was taken
To his cage named Rome
Hundreds of thousands of Jews
And many Gentiles
Of innocents lost their breathe
Jews were crucified
Nailed by Yaldabaoth's anger
And nailed on despair
To mock the nailed lamb of white
The eagle of gold
Was too useful for Saklas
To tear apart yet
For he hunted and slaughterd
Sheep of shining light
In bunches of dripping red
With his claws of white
But this wrath tore the red veil
From the third temple
Veil of Mosaic patterns
Was torn from Christ's Bride
Showing her face of beauty
Showing her soft lips
Skin glittered with gold and white
And eyes of twinkling gnosis