Best Philosophylonging Poems
If love was an -ism,
we'd all believe it,
like some perfect idea.
a philosophical epitome
If love was an -ology,
we'd all specialize in it,
like a doctor.
study its anatomy.
If love was an -ist,
we'd all try and be it,
like a poet.
write its anomalies.
If love was an -ish,
we'd all try to feel it,
like a mood ring.
measure its degrees
If love was an -ing,
we'd all be doing it,
like some movement.
a new revolution
If love was a suffix,
it would be confined,
to merely three letters at
the end of a word.
If love was human we wouldn't
recognize him, like he was foreign,
as if he were a martian.
If love was alive it would be exclusively
shared by those who are living.
If love was dead, than we would have
no reason to live.
If love was reason, then all of our
frontal lobes would be married.
If love was the ocean it would be fathomed.
If love was a mountain it could be climbed.
If love is just a feeling we'd all get over it.
If love is a dream then we are still sleeping.
If love is just a phase then how come I'm not over it?
Love is divine, and Love is an endless longing of the soul
for its maker, and can only be satisfied by the ageless creator.
In vastness lies a secrecy,
Held tighter by unreasonably
Large matters which our mind
Can't reach and simply falls behind;
Yet, wondering in the place of these,
Set right by those whose bias means
That even as we lose our grip
We've yet to fall apart.
Is:
Greatness - telling a darker tale,
And minds that hear it start to fail,
As forward motion places us
On track to fool the rest, and thus
As longing just to find the key
Will hold the lock for each of these:
You teach us what it means to be
Unfathomably Large.
Everyday runs to freedom
Unceasingly escapes mountains traps
Fires rainbows over the waterfalls
Grows up powerful gathering orphaned streams
Rushes in and breaks the wild rocks
It is in mountains but wants the plain.
Everyday runs to freedom
When goes down its voice is tired out
The flat space curbs his leap
Its water soiled from towns’ garbage
It is in plain now but longing for the mountains.
Everyday runs to freedom
When reaches the sea
It loses the name.
infrared dreams
filtered through the subconscious screen
primal screams through hollow walls
howling from within
questions unanswered
questions to come
clouds gather
the storm forms
paths twist turn
taking us into the unknown
visions of the future
a prophet's dream
intertwine with memories of the past
leave questions unanswered
while we seek memories that last
howling from within
dreams altering the course
sending tendrils while we sleep
slipping golden nectar
rose scented honey
like a drug into the quicksilver stream
fragile hopes longing to seed our realities
more than a question
a quest for the divine
to become more than just an untouchable dream mjr 2009.
Once I left to walk along the river
I could not never return
I am the anomie outside the garden forever
I prove it to you, my mother is dead
And I am no Persephone
And have no Demeter to bargain for me
Though she would not understand
What I need is more than mere companionship
If only by the angel I could slip
If I could just go back again
Beyond the tunnel where the uterus ends
Where did that come from
The little sack of grapes
Before I fell
From the bunch and was pierced to my heart
My father crawled into the fruit
And is my luggage now along the river
Time tripping at my back
And passing me in a rush of cascade
Making its death so sublime
If you believe everything you see
I don't, I wander blind
Through the dark cave of faith
Walking where I have never been
As if I was not at my beginning
Before the morning they slapped me
Can you believe that
The first thing they did when I was born
They whipped me to breathe
See how abused I am in life
I have baggage from the beginning
My primordial longing for love
Is the closest I get to Eden here
Let those talk of beginnings
Take their cosmic pilgrimage
To the birth place of stars
In vain to find their origin
And know the purpose of their life
Webbed in darkness alone
My flight will end where I love
For in the analogy of dimensions
My universe is only a womb
And my curiosity
Like a child tiptoeing to reach
A shelf beyond its height
Like an oar breaking surf
Over and over again
To find the itching spot
While the vessel moves
With every stroke
My love comes to me
The only paradise I have known
But I cannot go back all the way
Though my posterity through that gate
Will come without memory
Using my tale of existence
I want to swim again up to the tree
Clustered like bunching grapes
She has seven million of them in the beginning, you know
Then only two million survive to birth
By puberty she has a potential far less
And less time even
For thirty thousand children in the earth
So I rejoice not for my children, but for me
That was a tough lottery that wrought my existence
And made me believe
There is no such thing as chance
From rib alone
Women like a billion stars shine around me
The mystery of what my heart beats for
My cosmic longing is my love
It is a mighty river
Galloping like wild horses over the stones
Tumbling in torrents from sparkling thrones
White with the majesty of the sky.
I saw it rushing, leaping, laughing
Around bends, carving its presence
On the massive body of the land
I climbed up the scraggy face
Of bearded cliffs
Defying the rivers direction
Haunted by a desire inside
To come to its beginning.
Look what we built from mind alone
A universe with matter from stars' gas
Matter hard as stone
Swollen, swollen with our fancy's heat
Soon I reached a path
Where the river in four divide
And followed larger coarse up
And for each new divide I did the same
Until only trickle there remain
And tall trees that covered me from the sky
And big leaves that at midday dark
Just would not cease to cry.
Like single drop of tears
Each leaf drips
And drips
Water by drops from the forest lips
And no river was here
Just the wet flesh of earth
A cold place,
Sparse as a manger
And everything longing to be born
Pause and ponder the umbilical germ
The remotely ancient origin of egg and sperm
When is the beginning of all existence
Then we drip away, one by one, and children the only evidence of our dust.