Best Incongruity Poems
Wise Enough to Know
I'm wise enough
to know what I don't know
I think fast but my brain's slow
rivers of thought
cause my mind to flow
Still it seems I'm dumb enough
to put on a vain show
Will you follow me
to the places I want to go?
Wise enough
I look through windows clear
I'm over there by the juke box
wishing you were sitting near
Watching you play with your ear
Dumb me I close the curtains
darkening the atmosphere
thinking you might see me better
and come over here
I lack swag and courage
I'm paralyzed by my own fear
I'm wise enough
To see my own faults
And accept them for what they are
They seem smaller when viewed from afar
I can't drive away quick enough
in my pimped out get away car
I'm dumb enough
To be blinded by this prosperity
yet figuratively
I like the ambiguity
of not being able to see
my own incongruity
Maybe dumb is part of my personality
I'll probably never be the best version of me
after all I'm my own worst enemy
I try denying that money can change my heart
Still the cash flows from the art
Break it down by numbers tear it apart
Pop the balloon with a dart
Gas from my ego
smells worse than a fart
I'm wise enough to know
I've got a lot of learning to do
If I knew you you'd teach me
I'm sure it's true
I could become the me
of the who's who
Crystal clearly seeing you
I like your particular shade of blue
is there anything you can't do?
I'm dumb enough not to know
to much learning can turn me into a fool
I'm the thread to your needle
smooth like plastic
I've stretched so much
you might think I'm elastic
Unable to be held by a wooden spool
I hope you find my multicolours cool
stitch this heart to your fabric
for you I'd gladly play the fool
I can't swim but I'd jump in with both feet
to the deep end of your pool
You'd help me be wise enough
to avoid the traps and pitfalls of life
So if you are dumb and wise enough to be my wife
Stumble with me into paradise!
Another collaborative piece with my friend Freddie Robinson Jr.
Thank you Freddie you are inspirational. I am also glad my wife stumbled with me or perhaps I tripped her so that I could catch her. Either way it has been paradise ( at least for me).
Fragility of Wealth
by Odin Roark
He had known riches,
This man wandering desolate landscapes,
Once so generous of harvest.
But now…
He had seen it coming,
It was but a matter of which dawn,
Which sundown
Which star-filled night
Would be the last.
Acceptance was hard.
Most everything was gone,
Leaving behind a barrenness,
Likely past any will to start over.
Nature was tired.
And…
He too was wearing down.
So much.
So fast.
It was only yesterday
That he lingered there,
Peering inside the darkened diner,
A favorite he so often visited.
The lingering image of its pink and green neon,
Now but broken glass,
Its always bright surroundings
Just another dark remnant of what once was.
Only the ghost of his friendly waitress remained.
Enamored with her focus, he used to tell her
As he read her philosophical scribbles
Just below her “Thank You” part of the breakfast check,
“You’re an idealist in a funeral parlor.”
But he looked forward to the always provocative thought
To help another twenty-four hour stretch of fear,
The ever-present rich man’s curse.
“Happy people are the only people, the rest are only human.” Fullmer
“The supreme happiness in life is the conviction that we are loved.” Hugo
And then there was the quote that brought him to where he was today.
“Most men pursue pleasure with such breathless haste
That they hurry past it.” Kierkegaard
He’d lost track of the miles covered,
But glancing down, incongruity stared back at him.
Why here?
Why this place?
Why a star fish?
This once deep-water testimony to life,
Reduced to a still life intransigence of purpose,
Insisted the man consider his own evolution.
So…
Why had man been made to challenge
The many storms and waves Nature had in store?
Had civilization just plain f**ked up?
Yeah…
Well…
He too would soon be dead,
With only his dapper suit
And plastic boutonniere
To die with.
Perplexed, he gazed down at the once alive creature.
How does such beautiful simplicity
Retain so much of its treasure?
When my words rhyme
Oh how I love the crime
Such forgivable murder
Of words changing order
Tis not only sequence
For you have to make sense
Read between the lines
'Cause that's where the secret lies
Measure not the length
But comprehend the depth
Sometimes brevity
Outweighs vocabulary
Compare by simile
To show what it's like
Or use metaphor simply
As it directly imply
If synecdoche takes part from whole
Metonomy replaces it all
It uses symbol
For things compatible
Words rumble and jumble
As if to personify
Like humans palpable
Worth to exemplify
Don't misinterpret irony
Filled with incongruity
Discern the ambiguity
To reveal its mystery
- 25th of November, 2017
The Dragon Jar
What better place for fearsome beasts of fire
than airless thickets choked in green excesses
where weary soldiers stumble and aspire
for nothing more than living through the year?
Vast plantation harvests have all ended
death comes calling as soldiers ply their trade
row on row of rubber trees untended
now scarred by shrapnel not the sapper's blade.
Weeks of scratching foxholes in the hard-pan
and sleeping in the dirt before they're dead
fatigue and fear, they follow every man
into a tiny clearing, there to rest.
Nearby, highway one has little movement
save boom-boom girls on Honda motor bikes
who brave the free fire zones to pay the rent
where all conduct a business to lament.
Well shaded by a bent and threadbare tree
and encircled by a fence at clearing's edge
there stands a small platoon of pottery
as in formation, standing dress-right-dress
The soldiers, in passing pause to wonder
of jars too large to carry, filled with soil
left outside, devoid of human plunder
faux vases for the weeds that grow within.
One jar draws attention from the others,
it stands apart with glaze of earthen brown
outshining the dull clay of its brethren,
a dragon image reaching base to crown.
A soldier who has time for art admires
the jar's beauty, and incongruity,
and thoughtless of it's purpose he conspires
to make the dragon jar the spoils of war.
A fellow soldier helps tilt the vessel
they pour the rich, black soil out on the ground,
to be scattered by the arid winds of summer,
and walked on as the others gather 'round.
The Dragon Jar's inside a house in Brookland
it helps provide oriental decor,
near highway one, fertile dust is blowing,
and a soul is want to wander, evermore.
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 53
Must appearance differ from reality
In as much as front and back of the same body
To negate existence in non-duality
Being the non-existence of duality
Existence displaces both in one body
Must appearance differ from reality
Either and neither one incongruity
Make both come alive in one busy-body
To negate existence in non-duality
Everything comes from nothing logicality
Open your eyes you’re the Purusha body
Must appearance differ from reality
Every time you conceive the entirety
You affirm existence in your own body
To negate existence in non-duality
Time’s the hand draws curtain of eternity
Past nor future exists in any body
Must appearance differ from reality
To negate existence in non-duality
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
P- pernicious injustice,
terrorism perseverance and
E- ethnical intolerance
A- are in no way the
solution to the
C- continual and
persistence global,
E- economical incongruity!
This
O- only serves as means to
terminate the tranquil
N- nature of our global co-
existence!
E- living soul needs to
embrace one
A- another and also respect
one another in views, ways
and in our personal
R- religious beliefs.
T- this is a sip from the sea
of ways by which,
H- homo-sapiens could live
ever after in amity!
Alone in his cell, an inmate said,
"Truly, I have escaped the baseness of humans-
that inveterate vice which condones condemnation.”
No longer will he mistake loathing for love, enmity for
amenity or abhorrence for adoration.
Here, who you are, whether you be Gandhi or Nazi, is
Worn proudly, unambiguously, not shrouded in incongruity.
No longer will he be forced to live a lie and deny who he
Is. “Here, we are all the same”
No longer will he need to weave elaborate stories to cover
up your crimes. “Here we can count on your face
the lives you took”
Looking through the prison bars he saw our dilemma:
The masks we wear and the people we pretend to be; the people
We befriend to betray in the end. He saw the disingenuous,
the hypocrisy, the ruse and the tricks,
the chaos and the lies; and he felt sorrow because
he could not free those of us still trapped by prison walls.
That Secret Place That Glows
Now alone she ponders the persuasive reality of emotive vulnerability
The stranger vanished while magical moments persisted and lingered on
Sleight of hand is a nemesis obliged to invoke the dynamics of incongruity
Undeterred are elements of rapture like sand dunes on a distant blue lagoon
Instants in retrospect revealing acts of what transpired provokes no surprise
Depicting scenes of tough roller coaster rides and confrontations with woes
Seeking solace from failed endeavors the heart harkens to own the prize
Courage trump defeat leading her love to that secret place that glows
Penned:
08/03/2016
West palm Beach
Florida
USA
“Yellow”
I pump the liquid
soap in the bathroom
How Sickeningly sweet it is
and although now it’s gone
I will carry it with me
as I drift off…..
Yellow
is the smell of an
old woman's room
Plastic flowers everywhere,
windows shut tight
It lays like a fog
as a reminder
of whats to come
Death lingers
In the funeral parlour
Clinging to the heavy velvet drapes
settled in corners
like a blanket
Smothering me
Yellow
roses everywhere
in the air
and painted on the walls
Nothing moves here
time stops
Yellow sun filters
through darkened blinds
Hides the inevitable
in contrast
to the rotting flesh
propped up with formaldehyde
in crisp and crinkle fabrics
devoid of all life
Yellow flower petals edged in brown
drop slowly onto tables
Even sound doesn’t live here
This is where the dead
say their last goodbyes
And the living get stuck
in rose-scented memories
dancing on the wall
In the haze of Yellow
and the inescapable scent of roses
The incongruity of the two worlds meet
In the thick silence
Sticky like yellow syrup
I am reminded that
He is nowhere anymore
But I will take that scent
That feeling with me
Forevermore
The approbation for approval of a bountiful elicitation.
An evocation that is a stimulant.
As it calls up (draws forth) a particular class of behavior.
Thus, we draw out an altruism for the philanthropic devotion,
To the said principles; henceforth, being compliant and acquiescence.
We follow tradition accepting standards and agree.
Let's reinstate and make a conception and promote.
Ethical characteristics of self-effacing and resourceful ingredients;
Mild unpretentious attentiveness of an expedient plan.
A creation of to pass from one state to another.
Replacing the incongruity to find the true direction.
A change that could help streamline a new threshold
This our our nation to endure the many wonderful opportunities.
There can be great tasks ahead.
Allow information to be clear and in a few words;
Brief, but comprehensive.
Embrace the forward notion of staying appreciative,
And positive for the great people and things in this world.
A prospect of the derivative to find the real direction.
The incongruity sparkles, dirty diamonds in a drain,
With hackles rising, lips drawn back, in lemon peeling pain;
A psychodrama stage of sleight springboards the stupid head,
“I know,” she thinks, “I’m always right, I know that’s what he said.”
The egotism sponges as a leech ingesting blood,
The eyes are wide, the **** erect, the loins in moistened flood;
A stimulating shafting sort of sycophantic surge.
“His words are all about me now, he can’t control the urge.”
The craziness develops like a Polaroid of junk,
A dustbin lid, a bag of nails, a blue remembered funk;
A schizophrenic symptom in a druggy wrecked-up mind,
Ideas of reference screech, protesting honour is maligned.
The fantasy grows darker like a stain that slowly spreads
Upon the crotch she fumbles with, her fingers cold as lead;
In face of letting loose of grip please don’t forget to smile,
It’s only pretexts in the mind that bothered for a while.
Sheer Fear
Pink horizons mollifies probing eyes as clouds dissipate above
To the heavens bow gratitude where migrant birds hang glide
Venerated cosmic gods who quieted his pain then gave it love
Yet dusk arrived now this restless heart have no place to hide
A raging sea within me foresee fragmented ancient reflections
Impervious to heavenly rays of interminable mystical sunrises
Averse in utilizing rationalizations amending illogical emotions
Sheer fear appear sinister when incongruity incessantly arises
10/31/23
Aboard cruise liner:
Vision of the Seas
And this is why
I have decided
To leave
It there
Incongruity meets ignorance
Your charms fall short
Your words scar
Unobtrusively
Insistently
You choose to see
Through the lens
Of yourself, and
Nowhere close to me
You choose to be
Fooled
By exactly what I am—
To the unthinking,
Merely
Another
Uncertainty meets unrest
Your heart beats much too
Near yourself
Comfortably,
Conveniently
And this is why
I have decided
To leave
It there
on the uneven slope
that surrounds the immense hole
where the living fire crackles,
there is a kind of pretty steep trail,
in it you see dry bushes,
burned and twisted
with huge thorns at their ends,
bordering the small passage
created over thousands of years
by the feet of those who began their penance
and of those who tried to escape damnation.
every body that plummets screaming into the void,
makes more flames spurt out of the boiler hole
and the terrified eyes
of those who try to escape,
find the afflicted countenance
of those who never cease to arrive.
it's under a sinful sky
that heat cooks fabrics
and causes the blood to boil in the veins,
the inevitable vertigo
and finally the horrifying fall
in the fictitious abyss where they will burn
those who believed in the engineering of lies
and they didn't realize
the abysmal incongruity of hell
as the devil's habitat,
where its main function
it is precisely to punish evil
who always promoted.
Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate.
Germaine Greer
In the orbit of nearness, where hearts align
Where synapse evolves into a cherished sign,
We descry ourselves in place and time.
Bound by a close and familial rhyme.
Physical wistfulness and togetherness,
Creates a suture of joy and tenderness,
The juxtaposition of souls, so intertwined,
An agnate is formed—a bond we designed.
Forbearance and awareness we share,
Through pluralism, the incongruity we bear
For in this world of kindreds and propinquity,
We embrace the grace of coexisting diversity.
In the tapestry of life's grand design,
We are threads woven together, divine.
Antithetical in thoughts, beliefs, and ways,
Yet united in love throughout our days.
A binding bond of kin and vicinity, a holy thread,
Connecting us all and filling us with widespread
Embracing our differences, celebrating each hue,
We find strength in unity in all that we do.
In the embrace of love and togetherness,
We find solace and happiness.
Consanguinity brings us close.
In this world, we are all kin, but adios.
So let us cherish this bond we share.
Embrace the beauty of being aware.
That is our kindred spirit and propinquity.
We find strength and unity.
For in the land of nearness, we are one,
Connected by love, forever bound, never undone.
Common lineage and flesh, a dance so divine,
Where hearts intertwine, creating a luminous shine,
In the realm of nearness, we find solace and peace.
A tapestry of togetherness, where love will cease.
Kinship and nearness, a symphony of souls,
Where angels are perched atop their poles,
1st place contest winner