Best Philosophyworld Poems
This world is a bewitching illusion
The spring, the fragrant flowers, the chirping birds
The waterfalls, the sky, the valleys, the clouds
Are nothing real but delusion.
The gigantic snow clad mountains and fathomless seas
Are what is called optical illusion
Our eyes are so designed to see things in nothingness
The moon, the sun, the stars we see are nothing
Beauty, colors, lights and shade are nothing
Peacocks, swans, cypress trees and nightingale are nothing
The feats of our fabulous inventions are all fake
The skyscrapers, trains, cars, airplanes and ships are nothing
The super Markets filled with luxury goods are of no avail
The motorways, the subways, airports and runways are nothing
Dreams, wishes, desires, ambitions, hopes and aspirations
Success, achievements, satisfaction and fulfillment
Are only heartwarming assertions
Youth, beauty, seductiveness and glamour are nothing
The love binding you and me together is a mirage
Kindness, sympathy and benevolence are nothing
Why do we have unending lust for this world?
Beauty, elegance and allurement of this world is nothing
Atlantic city had been a haze of slot machines and watred down drinks and loud nightclubs
that often remendedme what disney land could have been ifthatdam mouse wasntallowed
to take over.
Never trust a talking rat.
I had to go through a hellof a divorce because of it.
Good thing her brother was a lawyer cause I might have
actully had something left oh well things are overrated like indoor living.
it's hell gettinga good internet connection in a tent.
But enough time traveling i had more important issues at hand
like my return and some unpaid parking tickets and that whole
court case nonsense your place of business burns down for the fifth time
and people all wanna get uptight hey i preffer to moron my lose
in a casino they said i shoudnt be alone so im just taking doctors orders.
But i had a deadline and it was almost happy hour the library was gonna be packed.
The subject true art and cenorship.
The world around us is totatl chaos so how could you restrict how people expressed
themselfs.
Heaven forbid little tommy reads a bad word
while him and and his best friend huff paint
dear jesus man and i hope they dont play a violent video game.
Sure susan go have random sex with guys of fthe internet
but dont read no cuss word on a poetry wed site
you just might drop dead where you stand.
Its kinda like running a asylum and pretending that everyone there
isnt totally nuts.
No sir lets ignore the real world cause lord knows people
cant filp on the tv and see murder rape fires and war ya gotta
love kids programing.
You cant restrict art for if it"s all the same cookie cutter stuff.
Then is it truley art or just a pretty dellusion.
Ignore the world and it'll run you over.
Life good bad traggic is ment to be shared
the secrets of the soul can rattle in that closet till
madness breaks that perfect image we put.
but what I know.
Never restrict your mind for you will sufficate the soul.
stay proud and crazy forever
Dr Gonzo
Appreciation - Helps us value the loved ones around us.
Balance - Bring beauty to our souls.
Conceptualization - Characterizes our world of complexities and simplicities.
Delightfulness - Delivers diverse sweetness to our world and dreams.
Ecstasy - Excites our inner beings.
Fantasy - Forms our dreams and follies.
Gratitude - Graciously acknowledges blessings from God and man.
Holiness - Brings a soul to happiness, eternally.
Imagination - Leads our dreams to discovery, inspiration, creativity, and success.
Joyfulness – Diminishes sorrows replacing them with merriment.
Kindness – Increases thoughtfulness, compassion and benevolence; improves humanity.
Loveliness – Surrounds our souls with physical and spiritual beauty.
Majesty – Uplifts the soul to a state of awe.
Naivety – Enjoys innocence and teaches opposition.
Obedience – Disciplines id and ego while leading to personal strength.
Passion – Imparts intense feelings that lead to elevated emotions.
Quirks – Provide individuality and entertainment for mankind to enjoy.
Righteousness – Teaches a man to stand firm, practicing making right choices.
Serenity – Instills quiet calmness to a man’s mind.
Tolerance – Broadens man’s ability to love and live peacefully.
Understanding – Opens the doors to wisdom.
Values – Direct a man’s path to positive morality.
Wisdom – Lives from a heart of love and understanding.
X-perience – Prevents drastic mistakes.
Yearning – Drives a man to crossroad, choices, dreams, and triumph.
Zeal - Supplies enthusiasms for all things.
I. Creation
Before the troubles of the world infect the soul
The magic of imagination creates a womb
Devoid of torment, pain, and stress. Rainforests,
Jungles, beaches, other worlds of elation where
You are always the victor in battle, the one
Who finds true love, alpha and omega. Never
Landing in withered trees or dead grass, only
Strong trunks and rolling plains, an ocean
Of stars, a blanket while lying comfy on
Palm fronds floating down calm dreamy
Rivulets of turquoise streams. Locomotives
Wind down vast forest covered country sides
Their tracks gliding to the warm earthy
Humming sound only they can make.
Only now with danger, inherent only to your peaceful fire
Bring you to this happy place, a place desired.
II. A Home all Your Own
In the world of yesterdays and tomorrows
And days lost in the gyre of solstices we
Create a world unto ourselves. Paradises
Lost to the antiquity of children trapped
Inside their adult armor. Lies tipped with
Poison seep into the wells of being, melting
The oil from the canvas’ that dreams are painted on.
Cheap reminiscences flash through tattered wafting
Curtains. Nightmare doppelgangers wait in quarries
of fire breathing mountain giants laying siege to
Rapture found in a good escape. Chemical
Demons like iron maidens brandishing your
Favorite drugs, syringes close in creating
An eerie starry night
To you alone
In a home all your own.
III. Repent to your inner child
To regain a solid footing on the gun deck
Of the warship you’re riding in the flotsam,
Hearken lessons from the playground,
The bruises, nicks, and cuts proudly earned
Ensure the necessary skills are acquired
To embark on adventures of the body.
Hiding in shrouds like an angel
White egret with horsehair-like crests and
Misty wings is the caged fury of joy, her
Wings mightier, beak stronger, eyes sharper
And love unabated from years unvisited.
Swelling seas are sailed, reefs can’t breach
A flying draft when joy carries her burden
Aloft. Hair amber and aflame in the setting sun
Amidst a new sea of clouds, only anchor
In a child’s heart when the dream fades
And the soul returns among the shades.
What is time?
But a rotation of the planets,
A love gone to the wind,
Or a setting of the sun?
Sometimes we can’t tell the day,
But by the bottle we drink.
Or the books I read,
…Plato, Steinbeck, and old Walts leaves.
What is art?
But a set of statements,
An aesthetic feeling,
Or a theory on communication?
And other times I sit in the wind,
Nostalgic story’s swim in the chaos of thoughts.
A world of energy measured by mass,
To the speed of light,
…Have you ever seen God?
Or a rope strung to the choking of seeds?
Submission,
Submission,
A world I don’t want to keep.
Do you know what it is to hurt?
Love burnt to a gravitational hole,
Failure that sticks like a parasite
…to the bone.
Loss of light,
Loss of touch,
Loss of comprehension,
It hurts so much.
Here we dwell where time has no meaning,
A court of the gods,
With a promised feast
Consumed by gluttonous dogs.
Out in the hills we roam,
Lost like infantile, mad children.
To a hunt of tragedy,
Is the mistake of Cephalus.
Can you feel the cold chill,
The rains of pain?
The wind is our home,
And a soft mad echo
Speaks to us,
…what is it saying?
What does it mean,
To be?
Standing one with nature,
Crouched by a river,
Can we interpret the drones
Of a suburban family?
They speak of regulation,
And hold a working class hero
As the sweets of moderation.
Doesn’t the road of excess
Lead us to the palace of wisdom,
And can’t we say truth
Is but of a relative nature?
But behold,
I believe in a long
Derangement of the senses
To
Obtain
The
Unknown.
Though, What is life?
Art, poetry, a figment of the imagination.
The skeptic concludes
To a weak will.
The artist spins a love
Of
Degradation.
The contemplative
Reaches the of height of formation.
The meaning,
What is reason for the meaning?
A will, a thought, a spinning of a thread,
Or,
The fabrics of dread.
Two paths, one entity,
A system from a creed of deities.
Can you speak when I say,
“Reckless abandonment,
Deranged lonely nights,
Failed plains inside the mind.
So useless to try,
The common misperceptions of what’s right,
And the twinkle of tears gone by,
…Welcome to life.”
The world is really very big
much bigger than a sheep or pig
can understand, 'cos on a farm
the size of things does not alarm,
but far beyond a farm's domain
are larger things to stretch the brain.
I cannot ever really hope
to understand this greater scope.
Indeed, a little sheepie's brain
was never built to take the strain
and so I think of grass and sky,
below, above, between am I
and I shall simply be content
within the place where I am meant
to be: for all this world has got,
I only have this tiny spot.
Maybe the Universe, so great,
can yet be claimed and can relate
unto an ownership divine:
this little patch of grass is mine.
A ghost apparition under glowing wreath
scattered sounds from a falling leaf
see spirits wander under rainy sheath
this real haunting from the world underneath
nothing remains but bone and teeth
all that is left of them to bequeath
dried up to dust and the thirsting heath
what lies beyond in the world underneath.
www.insiderealhauntings.com
THE WISDOM OF THE AGES
gently, the breeze wafted, past the me
as i stood sentinal to the grass
empty now i lay so silently
as the world swirls, and whirls on past
the birds flitter about 'pon my head
leaving marks of white and grey
i've no indignation, now, being dead
i find i'm much more unflappable today
a headstone, a marker, a name in stone
memories live on in others, oh so finite, lives
but for me i'm quite bored, and all alone
only my name in stone survives
gently , the breeze wafts past me
as i wait, for eternity
to pass.
sometimes, i wish, i had accomplished something
like, something that would have made me immortal, then
what would riches, and honor, and glory bring
that i should ever hear my name again?
to conquer, invent, to carve in stone?
to found an empire, a nation, company, or state
what, after all, would laws and society condone?
after all, the New World wouldn't forever wait
the Incas, the Mayas, the Dakotahs, too
just couldn't wait
for folks like me, or probably you
is it much to late?
namer of nations, up to me, what would i say?
statues in honor, what would i be?
still, i'm here, i found no earthly way
to live on, eternally
as me
and , if there was a way to found some earthly dynasty
i think that it wouldn't have been free
my world would have been burdened with my me
and wouldn't have been quite so free
gently, the breeze wafts past my me
and goes on and on, wild and free
of me
they say with age comes wisdom
now i'm so smart
if i could found a kingdom
i wouldn't start
i'd plant a field, raise a daughter, and a son
and try to ignore
everyone.
It ceaselessly, on all levels, reverberates
smashing through the gates
of logic, innocence and reason.
It knows no time or season
as men of high or low estate
prostitute their very sanity,
prostitute the very clarity
of their minds and souls.
Assuredly, ever since man to the state of reason attained
testing them 'till they gained
the whole world and vast power
and lost their humanity,
their very sanity.
The grip of material power is incalculable,
it has filled, and continues to fill
and to flood the world with pain and woe,
its perpetrators fully aware, know
the suffering, the agony they cause.
yet they care not, will not e'en pause
as they pursue and solidify powers grasp
crushing all who oppose, to their last gasp.
Compassion and caring is their enemy.
Their way, their only road is that of brutality.
The boat of history anchored to naked rocks, to Gods talking
Surrendered inside a silence blessing.
In this out of reach and worn world
Helpless we offered our souls with fragile compassions.
And in wars we won or we were beaten.Is it so important after all?
So much promises kept, as the wishes we expend.
Like acrobats on cut lines, empty souls in bodies on loan.
Then we wish to remember the chimera that formed our name
As we watch our shadow passing through the window.
In this silent world we sing, waiting for the dawn,
Asking fairy tales to steal life and heroes to fight above the starry sky.
This world's infinity we chose,yet we forgot that even sky has it's own halt.
So naturally after all, Time dismissed us from the trip, we kept ourselves away from
Expensive tickets and uncomfortable seats, let Heavens and knights wait,
As we were whipping the ruins with lopes uneven.
Do not rebuke this world reflections. It's not their fault that they are so little.
They just ran dry in a fistful of tears, floating from our own eyes.
And this pure dream joining our unsaid words, is not this world's creation.
It is the trembling voice vanishing, as we let distance grow,
As we keep our eyes nailed on the ground.
Perched upon a behemoth
A mountain, a companion to a lonely god
Perched is a man
Scanning the Mother
He eyes the ground
As a hawk would spot his prey
He made that world his captivating obsession
There skittered people of a world
Almost too perfect for him
He saw the land change with beautiful colors
Green landscapes would burn bright red as great grey masses would overcome the color
embroidered earth, and rise and fall would these structures, like the flowing of water down a
waterfall and eventually back into the sky only to pour down again
And from his divine perch he admired the throng
Their utopia so perfect
One day, his urge overwhelmed him
The mountain responded
And tumbled did he, to the unsuspecting masses
As he collected himself, his gaze refocused
And his smile departed back to his perch
Only to be replaced by two new tyrants, shock and terror
The world he so admired
Was no blurred painting of majestic colors
Blue streaks memory convinced him were rivers, became the swollen tears of mountains
Green earth he once greedily lavished with his gaze
Now repulsed him, a brown earth died red with hate and oppression
Ruins scarring the dead land, ravaged for its worth
So flawless from far
Yet so bleakly chaotic from close
Taken over by a fleeting horror
His urge overwhelmed him
His body responded
He sprouted wings and fled the scene
Perched by his companion he would say
"I think I am content by your side, content-
to leave the truth shrouded in myth"
© Samir Georges
2007
Opposite terms-poles-charges attract, like terms repel. In today’s world most people who
rampantly –constantly fight each other seem to have more in common than they can imagine.
Why?
Because if it is true that like terms repel it means that the people constantly fighting
are like terms that have so many things in common that’s why they fight. In other words
they have so many similarities-“identicalities” that’s why they fight.
For example
If in a house Peter and James are always constantly fighting, it must be because they both
always unintentionally happen to demand the same thing, wants especially not necessarily
in terms of needs but it could also be needs. Their approaches to things must be similar
which explains the reason for why they quarrel all the time.
But it is their choice because they can both choose to agree.
What happens when they eventually choose-decide to agree?
When they eventually agree, their bond-relationship-friendship might-would-could seem to
be as strong as their disagreement – but their disagreement and agreement can be in the
same proportion but can never have the same end result or product-sum total because the
sum total of their agreements-unity will be more than the sum total of their disagreements.
Hence they could end up becoming the best of friends.
In a world like ours both rules apply like terms repelling and unlike terms attracting but
as humans with our large, structured, orderly calculative and highly complicated brain
capable of calculating what a computer-robot cannot we should know better that the sum
total of our unity-agreements-synchrony is more than our competitions our disagreements.
So, we would be better off without disagreements, I mean business wise and other wise,
agreement would benefit us as a whole more than what our quarrels-wars leave us with.
A MINSTREL, OR A BARD, OUT OF TIME, IN A WORLD I DIDN'T MAKE(THANK GOD, I
WOULDN'T WANT THE BLAME)
THE POINT OF IT ALL
IN READING OF HISTORIES OFT VIOLENT COURSE
I FIND TRUTH IN PLATO, THEN FEEL REMORSE
AFTER ALL, HE TRIED, THERE'S NOTHING I CAN DO
ABOUT WHAT IS OR ISN'T GOOD OR TRUE
TIME IS ENDLESS OR NOT, AS IT WERE
I CAN DO NAUGHT TO AFFECT MORTALITIES CURE
AND EVEN THOUGH I LEARN AS I GO
IN THE END, TO WHOM DOES IT MATTER THAT I KNOW?
I THINK THAT I WOULD LIKE TO BE ABLE TO TEACH
TO SOMEONE THAT I COULD REALLY REACH
WHO, THEN, IS THAT, OR JUST WHO AM I
STILL, I WOULD LIKE TO GIVE IT A TRY
REALLY, TO BE TAUGHT WE MUST BE WILLING
EAGER AND EMPTY, AWAITING A FILLING
IF, PERCHANCE,YOU WOULD LIKE TO TEACH AND LEARN
DRAW NEAR AND LISTEN, AND SPEAK IN YOUR TURN
I'M A PHILOSOPHER AT TIMES, THOUGH SELDOM IN TIME
TO FEND OFF DESPONDANCY WITH A WELL CHOSEN RHYME
I, TOO, MUST LEARN, FOR WHAT GOOD IS MERE KNOWLEDGE
TEETERING, MEANWHILE, ON POVERTIES EDGE
SOMETIMES I AM HOPELESS, YET NOT HELPLESS I KNOW
I CAN HELP, OR BE HELPED, WITHERSOEVER I GO
ALAS, ALL THE PERSEPTIONS I COULD EVER AQUIRE
DON'T MAKE ME ANY MONEY, THE WORLD DOESN'T HIRE
OF WHAT WORTH TODAY ARE THE POETS OF NATIONS
MIRED IN THE CLAY OF UNINSPIRED RELATIONS
SO MANY OF US ARE LOST AMID SOCIETY, AN ODDITY
RIDICULED FOR OUR EFFORTS, UNLESS THEY MAKE MONEY
IN OLDEN DAYS THERE WERE RESPECTED SCHOOLS
FOR US POOR SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF FOOLS
WE WERE THEN A RARE AND PRECIOUS BREED
HAPPILY FULFILLING SOCIETIES HUNGER AND NEED
NOW WHAT ARE WE, WHO HOLD PHILOSOPHY IN OUR SOULS?
WHO LIVE WITH MUSES, BERIFT OF USES OR GOALS
MY NAME MIGHT AS WELL BE DESPAIR
WHEN WILL THE WORLD SLOW DOWN, AND AGAIN CARE?
CARE ABOUT ITSELF, NOT PLEASURE OR PURSE
IF WE DON'T LEARN, I FEAR, IT'S ONLY GOING TO GET WORSE
AND THAT THE POINT OF IT ALL, AFTER IT ALL, WILL BE
MERELY THE PERIOD, AFTER THE " D "
THE END.
mean so much
can be misconstrued
hurt or bring joy
a double edged sword
mighty and tranquil
deadly and horrifying.
words...
give meaning to culture
life, creation, love, and our world
has the ability to desicrate generations
begin genocide and continue hate.
words...
have moved nations and civilizations
for both good and bad
they have created the best and worst of people
yet we can't understand.
words...
have brought leaders to greatness or doom
forgetting the influence of speech
of those who suffer or die
from the verbage spoken consciencelessly
for power over things that do not mean much.
words...
have the power to touch
hearts, minds, souls, and masses
they are our greatest assets
if we use them wisely
but our ego at times speaks
caring less about anything but us.
words...
are a gift creation gave universally
dialect's challenge has been met effortlessly
the knowledge took time
to see we are all one kind
intellegent beings in need to be loved
even if its a simple hello.
words...
create those who commit unspeakable crimes
at the same time saves those victims asking why
build walls to imprison the misunderstood
and knocks down ignorance where it should.
words...
are our first and last
communication we seem to strive at
if remembered before related
they can change the world as we have made it
enducing empowerment, oneness, and declassification.
words...
can point us in the only direction
needed to survive peacefully
include every man, woman, and child
cannot be hidden or be untrue
the light will always come through
which is why the pen is mighter than a sword.
words...
are there to record
teach, remind, warn, encourage
an orchestra worth listening
whether topic is agreeable or not.
words...
give a view of the giver's heart
standing for right or wrong
the words will sing the song
if heard with true meaning
our choices in this world won't be so deceiving.
Namaste
Symphony
time is a landscape , essence is a river, flowing nearly infinite
through the barren greenness of it.
without dams, though many rapids, twists, and turns
and waterfalls, where ones pulse races like the waters, that sparkle past the ferns
trees there are, growing upwards, to the bluest ever sky
the life of growing things, seeking ever up to reach, and even fly
pregnantly, eager and eternal skies await, to welcome each limb, as it climbs and grows
enfolding it in life, and love, enraptured in a beauty like a gods, and lovers rose
giving to a rough, and often crooked mortal thing, an eternal gift of love
as it grows, wreathed in leaves and bark, from the dirt to skies above
down below, upon the ground, we look up and marvel, seeing
a tree, but if we could open wider eyes, we would see a being
up, up, up above the ground, up above the world of us, and things
is a world of seeing, that time immeasurable to life, loving, brings
i climbed today, a hill, to see across the river, to the other shore
again, much like my heroes, exploring, always seeking to see more
and there, across the river, past a dim and distant shoreline
i saw a man, dressed much like me, though of darker, or maybe lighter, skin than mine
his eyes were closed, and he was sitting, 'pon a soft and shaded hill
with him was his wife, and family, sharing a picnic, as families will
i picture him, there sitting, looking in as so few do, among the lives we live
on a life and love, that reaches out around him, as even fewer, ones will give
seeing, without eyes(i's) what we could see with 'em if we chose
the world, and time, and people, like a book, one day will close
and knowing, perhaps in time, the reason for it all
is to stand among each other , standing...standing tall.