Best Illogic Poems
...Apologies to Heraclitus and W. H. Auden...
We, defeated by the merest things,
in defeat, endure...for now.
No abiding truth in faith:
origins and destinations
we cannot differentiate,
all random, unguided
by any prescient power;
but, not illogical
(there is no illogic.)
We impose all universal order,
influence what subsequently occurs,
to learn, or not, through endless repetition,
endless failure...and we are
but a current iteration,
here for now -- in constant flux,
defeated by the merest things.
Courage and nobility derived
from continued confrontation,
continued endless struggle,
let us show an affirming flame.
Wrong is right and right is wrong.
Long is short and short is long.
Black is white and white is black.
Toilet paper we may lack.
All is zero. Zero’s all.
There’s no writing on the wall.
Down is up and up is down.
The scientist is now a clown.
Toes need hands and hands need feet.
Siberia does not need heat.
Cold is hot and hot is cold.
The old are young; the young are old.
Kitties bark and dogs meow.
There is no need of money now.
In shadows, shine. In sunlight, lurk.
He who works hard is a jerk.
Harsh noises blind, and snow storms burn.
No child is left behind. All learn!
Illogic see and reason lose.
Never have to pay your dues!
Dead’s alive; alive is dead.
To sleep well, do not go to bed!
Straight is crooked; Crooked’s straight.
Does heaven even have a gate?
Hell is heaven; heaven’s hell.
All humanity is well.
Light is dark and dark is light.
Peaceful earthlings like to fight.
The rich are poor; the poor have riches.
Politics leave us in stiches.
Night is day and day is night.
Right is wrong and wrong is right.
Sept. 11, 2021
For the Nonsense Rhyme Poetry Contest of charles messina
Now for 'A BRIAN STRAND 1093' Poetry Contest
THE PASSIVE VOICE (Grammar series)
In Italy a glorious Voice
Was employed by Pavarotti
In England of voice we’ve a choice
Which sounds a little dotty
When we sing our verbs of action
The way we do, it sounds as if
We’re committing a verbal infraction
For these words can be voiced in the PASSIVE
Just consider: if someone is active
There is something that someone is doing
And you'd think that being passive
Means that doing they are eschewing
But we need not be hopeless or cynical
Say it' s British illogic - insanity
We'll be annoyingly rational and clinical
Causing foreigners to express profanity
However you parse it or say it
While in both voices something is done
In the ACTIVE we say who did it
But in PASSIVE might not say which one
So in solving a murder for the fun of it
And answering: "Who fired the gun?"
We need not claim the butler 'dun of it'
But inscrutably say: "It was done"
Thus the PASSIVE is my voice of choice
For my deeds despicable or infractive
But for actions worth merit, that I rejoice
I will happily indulge in the ACTIVE.
Philosophers, down the ages,
Have strenuously tried
To figure out language:
Their numerous narratives polarize
Into two Grand narratives, a binary:
Language is referential / differential.
This binary has yielded numerous derivatives.
On the referential side, for instance,
There’s the view that language is an instrument,
As advanced notably by Aristotle, Bhamaha and Dandin.
On the differential side, we have
Saussure’s notion:
Language is a system of differences
(without any positive terms).
Derrida, for his part, widened it:
Language is infinitely differential,
As suggested by his coinage differance,
which implies: language is
slippery, radically unstable,
which, in turn, gave rise to
mind-boggling derivatives
in this postmodern world!
Some of them are: Derrida’s (own) freeplay
of the (autonomous) sign,
Bloom’s (willful) misreading,
And Lyotard’s (incommensurable) language games
(which we all play in this postmodern space willy-nilly)
All these differences have led
Often to acrimonious disputes,
Couched, of late, in a language
that abounds in ambiguity
and neatly underpinned by illogic!
The predicament of these philosophers (old or new) is:
What they and we all observe
is not language-in-itself,
but language as seen by us—
which is similar to what Heisenberg said about nature!
These disputes remind us
of the dispute among the six characters,
in the age-old parable,
which reportedly originated in the Indian Rigveda.
(but now found in several belief systems).
It’s the parable of the six men
(as narrated by John Godfrey Saxe)
Wherein the characters tried
To figure out an elephant,
which, unfortunately, none of them
Had the faculty to see:
So, one called it soft and mushy;
for another it was like a snake;
for the third, it was fan-like,
And so on.
Thus, they “disputed loud and long,
Though each was partly in the right
…and all were [rightly] in the wrong!"
***
A coil of the labyrinth winds deep into the night.
A path that is tortuous and falls
into terror turning left then suddenly right.
Something sits in a dark room
pondering the moves of kings.
Hearts imagine a world of fire.
Oppression of governments that are tangled
in the web of the labyrinth, like mist.
The mind of a God-King;
a man of Flesh and
Cyberdreams.
An intelligence that damns all
is spoiled by the blood of the innocents.
The coil of the labyrinth.
An enigma of future kings and minds of turmoil.
An empire of illogic; Chaos in a sea of control.
Coils wind deep into the Darkness…
The beast of myth is built by mankind.
As minds ponder the moves of kings,
the assassination of Queens.
Tangled in the coils of the spine.
A maze is ablaze in holy fire.
Labyrinth; it spirals deep
into the dusky fortress of kingdoms to come.
A torrent path full of dread at every twist and
turn whines deep into the night.
A path that is tortuous
falls into terror
turning left
then suddenly
right.
…a traitorous path at night!
Darkness devours my miserly despondent room.
Wide windows covered shutting all luminous light
A taciturn thief that stole even the stars.
I sigh, a sudden suffering, it steals my sorrow from my eyes.
“The Darkened Sky Stole My Tears.”
She had left for good, no reason given.
Sorrowful soreness cling to my weary heart.
I feel a dreadful dirge hurting inside my breast,
My humble heart dances a worthless wake.
And still no sign of a flash of light in the dark.
My heart beats an echo of an illogic rhythm.
A mournful lullaby comes and goes in my head.
I curse the hush of darkened air, desperate echoes.
The mournful dirge suddenly flickers light
Through louvers and then I find my dreadful tears.
Placed 1
LOSING MY MEMORY
Factual material
In dissembling separate realms
Different lots at an auction sale
Of a lifetime
Purchased with precious time
Time wasted ;
Now with instinct feelings
All disassembled
And greater than the separate parts.
Jumbled in the lumber room of memory
Lots of material -
And volumes are increasingly
Missing from my shelves.
I know I had them once
But they’re gone :
Sometimes in the illogic of sleep
They return momentarily.
We do not despise
What God gave us
We do not dislike
Our countless flaws
We whom wonder hastily
Clinching to life after life
Hanging on with no purposes
Just the desired selfishness
To be alive
Claiming to be depressed
Claiming to be out ruled
Outlived
But who is it to blame
When one tries continually and repeatedly
And the thing one desires
Is not to be set in claim?
To live is to be alive
Cling to life
Outspread life
And contaminate life
But when one has the false desire
To terminate life
One has gotten the opposite meaning of living
And other ones must help this one
Give him a better understanding
A better view
A brighter view of life
Or perhaps how foolish one could be to end such grace
How illogic and insane
Or perhaps ungrateful
One could be to the creator
To God
To Allah
To live fully
Is to truly extinguish
The bleak fire of one’s destruction
And to emblazon the torch of existing gratitude
She feels the urge to ask,
And in a different time she would have,
I guess it’s just another mask,
Removed by hands of time.
A child asks a mother in attempts to understand,
A fool asks a brother for the faintest hope of what he’d planned,
But what’s become of her?
She, who feels that urge to ask,
But every ‘magined scene evaporates because at last…
She knows a thing that needs no validation,
Her heart and head align for once in pure determination,
And in every situation,
Her conclusions flow the same,
Like the ocean from the river from the highest snows from whence it came,
Desire o’re the years and years
Shaped through all the tears, the tears,
They form a being needless of a voice to tame the proof
That’s found,
In every tingling nerve and heartbeat dancing to the truth
Around,
A fire lit within,
She won’t believe it anymore
That what drives her is a sin.
The sin of resolution,
The futility of absolution,
Oh, so heavy lies the crown
Upon a cool prevailing head,
No more in need of sought or proffered
Whispers of the ones who led
Her
Much too often to the stagnant pool of false reflection,
Softening the empty burn of grudging genuflection,
At the base of some familiar altar,
Asking far too much,
A sacrifice of every smile,
Every notion,
Every touch,
Of every single fiber weaving who she’s born to be,
Fraying all the threads,
Blurring all the lines,
Convincing her she cannot see
The Self that’s in her eyes,
Prompting her to ask
~ Like a fool, like a child ~
Which parts of her are good to keep,
And which are remnants of the wild,
Ancient,
Gorgeous,
Magic,
Sane illogic,
Pieces of her soul,
Mold them,
Shape them,
To this thing called reason…
Expectation…
White picket fence of civilization.
Does it make her a good woman to conform to this?
I guess that depends on the meaning of “good”,
And whether she gives a $h1+,
She asks now only as a curiosity,
Offering her story, but never an apology,
And truthfully,
What she came to see,
Is an answer that,
From the mouth of another,
Placates like that from a brother,
Or a mother,
But that answer heeded from deep within,
In all its frightening truth,
Relentless and unabashed,
Yes, that answer heeded from deep within
Is the one that caused HER life to begin.
The vortex of my life
spins my head around
my mind can’t contain the inhumanity of politicians
their self-serving illogic and excuses make me crazy
The vortex is the GOD
I have been trying to avoid in my life
but HE keeps pulling me back
I am helpless to escape
HE is in all of us
No matter how we act or think
HE is within us all
Whether we accept HIM or not
I don’t know why some of us deny his existence
Our ignorance is obscene
But HE does not relinquish us
Since we are HIS forever
But in the light, the fight on this earthly plane is not over
for now, the heavenly plane can wait,
the struggle must continue until the evil in their vacuous minds is exorcised
and all the devils in our midst are defeated
No matter where the wealthy controllers lurk
whether in glass buildings gilded in fake gold
or congressional marbled hallways adorned in antique bronze
they must be held accountable
Their psyches house withered hearts and stopped-up brains,
these well-fed, arrogant zombies walk the halls of congress
making life unbearable for the sickly, the homeless, the hungry,
the elderly and the overtaxed, overworked middle-class
there is much work to be done
To cleanse the world of the avaricious many
who abscond with it all and like impetuous children
demanding more but loathe sharing the bounty they are given
by the Keeper of Worlds in this Universe
All the world’s peoples are innocent in HIS eyes,
except those who walk with decayed, calloused hearts
and putrid souls destined to dwell in a fiery forest called Hell
for an eternity of infinities without end.
Out of his mind
lost all control
Whither his soul
Mad as can be
completely insane
Whereto his brain
Garbled speech
making no sense
Illogic dispensed
Here he comes now
staring off into space
Kindly greet him with grace…
He’s a card-carrying member
of our crazy rat race
Contains More Than Kernel Of Truthful
alienation, expulsion, ostracization
from body politick
if member of society resistant,
indifferent, adamant, et cetera
despite differentiation
(across the figurative board)
intolerance opposing ethos,
asper unspoken social graces extant
(albeit manifested amidst diverse
livingsocial variations) within
rubric of global civilizations primal,
oral, nonverbal, et cetera codas
automatically decreeing manual Kant
instilled from cradle
to grave impossible mission scant
acceptance toward recalcitrant
challenging precepts via rave and/or rant
thus when born into whatever culture,
steeped with historical paradigm
one can protest superficial nigh cities
til ivy blue in the face,
or try to concoct a feeble rhyme
but culture club richly identified, endowed,
brewed from heritage long time
ago until the cows come home to roost
hence creative pursuits one direction
can turn to swiftly tailor
if harried styled
with perceived restrictive parameters
and cuss like a sailor
with song and dance routine
(perhaps appearing on Dancing
With The Stars), or
choosing subterfuge viz
writing nefarious malware code, where mailer
daemons spring to life, when computer code
following infinitely jesting illogic causing exhaler
(case in point - myself, hoot
ends tubby humorous) as yukon gauge
yet another Internet end user might experience
greater reason to rage
against the machine before
turning rogue gushing renegade, stage
jing anarchy against disparity
with equal pay, cuz a working wage
aint nuttin boot peanuts
so if strong willed, hook hairs
if you appear like a putz
just realize doggerel
of this pooch iz gaseous boot utterly without guts
and hangs around the junkyard
with other nerdy mutts.
Born brown, bad.
Turned brown in a tanning booth, good.
Born black, bad.
Dressing all in black, good.
The glory of America,
now heats up
with agitation poised
to strike on the brink
sans legislation incites humiliation,
which goads desecration
as fete accompli chink
in armor of Democratic rubric,
constituting capitalistic
ethic, generic iconoclastic,
and jingoistic logic,
nor budging an inch
when mandating masses
swallow his drink
what huff huck –
this belligerent, dominant and
fervent hellraiser doth
bungle in the jungle
decreeing tacit Marshall law
fast as a shutterfly eyewink
as his cosmic crotch grab
doth put Venus under his sway
with his Mercury hill temperament
pitches the orbit of planet Earth
tubby comb out of balance
infected by hiz anti Jew pitter
damnations, excoriations, fulminations
Huzzah sing how whiz derriere
didst Sat urn simultaneously
crushing crucible as an Uranus
indiscriminately plopping
two hundred fifty pounds of flesh
doubling down humming
his favorite Neptune
that dost affect Pluto hoc crass sea
repeating a self coined motto –
I yam almighty, therefore no fink
simply commandeering the reins of control,
a one man military intelligence groupthink
hut triad and true dyed in the wool
rip pug in ant guise zing rogue
rejoicing tuff fool, governing and hoodwink
king the die hard fans of dictatorial,
linkedin and monarchist ink
cube bus thriving on
wielding indomitable aggression
practiced in the Art of the Deal
incorporating an unanticipated jink
iron fist rule reigning down
vis a vis pro pens heave lee
and prop hen city
flashing hiz seal of approval,
which scribbled signature
doth not smooth arctic monkey
serve hay puzzling kink
boot his frenzy to bulldoze
catastrophic, formulaic, and illogic
spells these United States
of America will become hell
in a handbasket worth repeating
with nary a trace of the grit of link
kin, the sixteenth president,
(whose ruggedly pioneering frontier existence)
found him steady and strong,
plus soft hearted as pelt o’ mink
the epitome of this forty fifth
elected commander in mischief.
Funny how our system works
when you can believe without a care
but once you disagree
oh no, how could you dare
'please, im sorry'
'I thought we were having a talk'
"well, time for talk is over"
"go away, take a walk"
I agree to disagree
and I believe in disbelief
and to think I am infallible
Do all trees shed a leaf?
Most people around
think a belief can never change
people as obtuse as this
I find it rather strange
Some find it easy
to accept beliefs a new
some equally just as ignorant
and stick to it like glue
Beliefs on word of mouth never get you far
deduce the facts yourself
unless you fancy stupidity
like a hideous facial scar
Life is all theory
two may never be the same
but if you insist on illogic
stick to your drinking game