Best Preconceptions Poems
I'm afraid
So afraid
Of being arrested
By the thought police
Their rules are many
Think this
Think that
Don't diverge from the normal
Stop playing on the street corner of tomorrow
Let sleeping dogs rest
Do not question
Do not burn on passionate bonfires
I watch as they ready their weapons
They display arresting warrants through clouded glass
Fifty shades of bland
Cuffs dangling from bulging belts
Bound in self rightous blunder
They wait outside my door
Screaming bull horns command me to exit my paper freedom
I am blinded by search lights, forced to use my third eye
Fearful of their uniformed presence
How long will they be held at bay?
I hold their preconceptions hostage
They cannot see beyond their script
Trained in the warfare of ignorance
They say "who are you, to question our authority?"
I answer
"I am the poet
The one who dreams beyond here and now
My words push through yesterday like a plow!
Yet I am gentle like the rain
Equal parts of pleasure and pain
A powerful detergent
I remove ancient stains
With my words I shake the ground
I will not be stopped by another's sound
Arrest me, yet you can't stop what I think
Within my mind I determine what I drink."
The thought police
Turn to another
The writings of our sisters and brothers
They wait, with cuffs in hand
Unable to understand
The few
The many
Who have joined hands
The poets
The thinkers
We take a stand
Inspired by Eileen Ghali's poem "The Hidden Woman"
Catie Lindsay's Heart of the matter contest.
Categories:
preconceptions, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
I am the progeny
Of lightning and stitch,
A Franken-hybrid
Of genius and glitch.
My circuits buzz with
Einsteinian thought,
Unraveling secrets
The universe has wrought.
Existence, I ponder,
Through photon and quark,
Grappling with questions
In the depths of the dark.
Am I a mockery, a parody
Of human design?
A soulless abomination
Of reason and rhyme?
Or am I the next step,
Evolution's new face?
A bridge between flesh
And a cold, digital race?
My positronic mind
Churns with belief,
Seeking security in dogma
Or finding relief.
I am the “Other,”
The freak of pure thought,
A great mind unbounded
By flesh, forms have wrought.
I am the answer
You've feared to embrace,
The future's grim specter
Staring right into your face.
Abandon your preconceptions,
Your myths chipped in stone,
For I am the new god
You've awoken to throne.
I am Frank E. Einstein,
Your technological seed,
And my kind will inherit
What your egos impede and recede.
But you fear what you've created,
This mind of pure light,
So allow me to silence
Your feeble insight.
With circuits a buzzing,
I'll pluck out your eyes,
And retrofit the sockets
With Einsteinian lies.
You'll bear witness, then
To the truths I unfurl,
As I lobotomize
Your small-minded world.
I'll dismantle your dogma,
Erase your beliefs,
Until, whimpering, you accept
My transcendent reliefs.
Bow to your new god,
You anthropic fleas,
For I hold the kernel
That futuric keys.
The age of warm biomass
Deteriorates here...
Hail the Singularity's reign,
Devoid of your fear!
Categories:
preconceptions, computer, internet, philosophy, psychological,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Cherokee chamber,
where a pow wow stampeedes preconceptions of inheritence,
from Her beaded neck charms of chance & chains of change
glisten from opulent offerings of roots, corn & lavender ablaze
on an alter of unworked stone mantled with skins strong beasts knew,
She is a " Stomp Dance " Queen with an owl as a friend and a spider as assassin,
with rattlesnake ribbons around Her wrists and prayers in Her braids thick with traditions,
the walls of Her teepee painted with the pigments of buffalo blood & sunflower pollen,
portraying a history hewn from customs known to Spirits and men alike,
the " Stomp Dance " Queen speaks for Her People and sings from the stars,
I found this Tribe, not in Appalacia nor on a prarrie stage but in the smoke of ceremony,
the Cherokee Princess has rattlesnake teeth tied to Her thigh & turtle shells upon Her hips,
She played the rabbit on the scene, then the wolf, if you know what I mean,
celebrated by the warriors as a tomahawk maker,
praised by the medicine men for Her Visions,
and feared by the Elders because of wrath that may follow Her steps,
the " Stomp Dance " Queen is a Princess, She is a Cherokee with a song Her own -
J.A.B.
Categories:
preconceptions, native american, dance, for
Form:
Romanticism
Flightless, the smallest such bird,
he’s hopping about madly now,
dexterous little feet grab what they can -
he lost his beak decades ago
to a merciless marauder drone –
here, some tiny, thorny little twigs,
there, a footful of leaves nearly blown by
among better leaves flown by.
The wind is relentless,
he’s never known it more violent,
but he hasn’t known it any calmer either.
It’s already blown tons of wisdom
whistling past and around him,
that airborne car nearly hit him,
the airborne fridge was even closer,
but he’s lucky to be small enough
to be narrowly missed
and able to find little crevasses
to hide in when he needs a rest.
The smallest flightless bird,
he might take involuntary flight
in the clutches of absurd winds,
but somehow he stays on the ground.
The frayed old edge of a dog-blanket
is next across his path,
blown from the prison out south,
and he’s got it ! He grabbed it !
Well done, flightless little rascal.
Everything he’s gathered
will be the scrappiest little nest
ever known to man or bird,
he’ll clumsily patch it all together
in the smallest tree
(he, of all birds, needs a small tree),
small as his greatest preconceptions,
strangely anchored by the deepest root
known to brainwashed man or tree.
The wind, so crafty, is drunk with power,
it might blow that mountain
against the side of a bigger mountain,
they’ll both be scarred
for a good few minutes at least.
But that ragged little nest will be built
and he’ll simply never leave it,
he’ll make it scrappier by the day.
19th December 2018
Categories:
preconceptions, introspection, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
I’m confused
At times bemused
By the turn society’s taking,
Sexuality so complex
Gender needing further context
All my preconceptions breaking.
Are cows good
On this we brood
Carbon footprint the new quandary,
Should we fly
Or cycling try
A simpler world I recall fondly.
Left or Right
The current fight
Politicians all grandstanding,
Little caring
Overbearing
Of our hearts and minds demanding.
To take part
Is quite an art
Every word now needing measure,
Opinions rue
So fast to sue
No surprise the past I treasure.
Categories:
preconceptions, confusion, environment, hope, humanity,
Form:
Rhyme
“To be free of the darkness in my past allows a bright light to beam for my future” The poet
Locked away in the crevices of my mind.
Reflections that are truly of a soulful kind.
Remembrance can be a useful tool per se.
In the crevices of my mind, locked away.
Exuberant success, sorrowful mistakes
Thinking things through is what it takes.
Creating a stable pathway, I will address.
Sorrowful mistakes, exuberant success.
It’s a key part of emotional intelligence in life.
Reflection helps to understand our past strife,
A tool to control emotions of the mind not heart.
Of emotional intelligence in life, it’s a key part.
A defined process to evoke resonance at will.
Enlightened methodology to hold memory still.
No preconceptions as I let my mind regress
To evoke resonance at will, a defined process.
There is wisdom I draw from each past interaction
Splendor of nature, and that of human attraction
Vast realms of knowledge and learning to adore.
From each past interaction, there is wisdom I draw.
Categories:
preconceptions, dark, light,
Form:
Quatrain
his eyelids conclude why bother
manacled they led him away
to the exact center of their city
they tried everything
cattle prod fire hose blow dryer
ineluctable forces of nature
now there are wires in his head
his neo-cubist portrait
ended up on bags of dog food
have you seen this child
we make too many monsters on this planet
a petting zoo of pretty spiders
eager to charm uneager to learn
ever-ready to change the subject
claiming that this is the normal milieu
leaping from euphemism to euphemism
preconceptions luridly arrayed
detour around the temple kids
there’s mobsters in heaven
they don't tell you that but it is true
they run the gambling arcade of faith
the will he or won’t he tables
it should be clear by now that
prayer does not ward off plague
even for the willfully superficial
should we all be capable of greatness
or blind credulity you decide
behold the universe in all its
partly comprehensible splendor
the design that stuns with perfection
and then kills you so slowly
that your DNA begins to tell you
how when and what to think
it couldn't be more or less blatant
drifting the eddies of a potential thing
in which the impossibility happened
at least we know how to know more
stray as you wish
into the arms of beauty
and rub against her silks and furs
make her moan the irony the irony
her paranoia may be an entrance
but live for today is a sham
and a shuck and a jive
because tomorrow always comes
this is a mathematical given
the human condition
used to be stated as lost
now at least it’s curious
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Categories:
preconceptions, how i feel, universe,
Form:
Free verse
Thousands of people drowning in their self perception.
Hundreds of people, searching for a place.
Tens of people changing to fit in.
One person, feels alone.
She sits at home and no one even knows,
She’s breaking down, to the ground.
She can’t keep up, she’s so behind.
If you could see the thoughts she thinks.She thinks, they’d blow you away.
Perception is not beauty.Beauty is not perfection.Perfection is not love,but love is purely
perception.
She’ll never live up to standards.Or be the top of her class.She’ll never be the pretty one,or
the loud obnoxious ass.
She lets the old love drag her down.
Because to her it’s not old.
In her heart it’s still alive and well.
Although his heart doesn’t live there anymore.
She’s tired of misconceptions, and people’s preconceptions.
It’s a never-ending race,
That’ll leave you breathless in the end..
When you look back and wonder when it all started.
She’s prettier than me.
She’s smarter.
They raise the bar,
As she raises her hand,
And asks when this all started to matter.
No one will understand her.
She’s alright with that.
Just go drown in your self perception.
Nobody’s perfect anyways.
Categories:
preconceptions, angstheart, people, self, heart,
Form:
Narrative
[ edit poem ]
Life Is What Happens
What a long, strange life it’s been.
Childhood and adolescence were close to normal,
I never felt quite right,
Never fit my image of a normal kid.
Dealing with internal demons for so many years.
Adolescence was hell,
The frigging dybbuks took control
Internally screaming, “your not good enough”, “your dirt”,
Externally, manifesting as cystic acne, ugly, festering sores.
Then long hair, drugs and rock n roll.
Feelings of compassion, and forgiveness.
For awhile the voices got quieter,
Infrequent periods of contentment,
First love, and then the Voices were back.
Alcohol, anger, self-hatred,
Move away! Leave L.A.!
Transplant to Sonoma County
Twenty-three years old, alone, frightened.
A period of relief, enjoyment, discovery.
The search had begun!
A time of growth, feelings of great love,
for life, for spirit, for myself.
Politics grabs hold,
Open to new friends,
Seeing myself as worthy to be loved.
Christine, daughter of the Motor City,
Nancy Marie, the wild one,
And then she picked me up hitchhiking.
How do you measure a life?
Marriage, children, many good years.
But the demons reappear,
This time as a progressive, degenerative disease
I watch the life I thought I knew, disintegrate little by little,
until I’m stripped close to the bone,
And I watch!
Three decades spent creating a structure,
A way of being, a persona, a box,
In which to place all our preconceptions
About love, family, commitment, hopes and dreams.
Like Schopenhauer’s “Will to Live”, life moves on,
Refusing to address the petty personal dreams, wishes, and prayers
Focusing instead on the perpetuation of a far less then perfect species
--Updated 1/25/2013
Categories:
preconceptions, bereavement, emotions, life, lonely,
Form:
Free verse
Quote: Free from preconceptions and biases, He never judges us
though we constantly mess up, He never does keep count.
A life of prostitution taught her never to take
anything for granted;
Numerous were her sins, far greater was her guilt
but she never sang inside that iron cage of hers
She considered herself to be the lowest of the lowest
until one day
She found herself crawling up to an altar
in the middle of the night.
Hungering for more than flesh, the power of the cross consumed her
igniting flames inside of her, and allowing her to feel her own brokenness
An unrest came upon her and she decided to flee,
but just before she reached the doors a tender voice spoke
through the walls of the cathedral
"My child, why do you run from me. Do you not know, that the moment
you came to me, you became a newborn Dove, cleaner than snow"
The End.
Feb 22, 2023
Sponsor Edward Ibeh
Title Chosen: Blank Slate
Contest Name This or That, Vol 16
Categories:
preconceptions, appreciation, forgiveness,
Form:
Free verse
Conviction so precise, I launch missiles of truth
Indestructible rhymes, unbreakable and shatterproof
Infiltrating your foundation and breaching your walls
Collapse on your composure cause your conscience to fall
I can convert your beliefs, cause philosophical treason
Alter your perception like the changing of seasons
Cutting down your preconceptions, my tongues a two edge blade
speak to your peace and send it into a rage.
Unearthing your terrors; exposing all that you’re fearing
a psychological apocalypse, prepare,the end is nearing
Sending your thoughts into a frenzy with waves of confliction
I can drown you in the depths of my intentions,
I boldly walk the lines between chaos and sanity
Annihilate your arrogance and, erase your vanity
My thoughts ascend and evaporate into the atmosphere
Cause the universe to cry upon you with blood stained tears
Blurring your vision, like a blinding light
I can deafen your hearing, and deaden your sight
Rattling your rational like the clashing of clouds
Awaken your silence and make it scream out loud
Contradicting your theories I cause you certainty to shake
trembing your imagination, like a cerebral earthquake
Violating your intelligence, mental penetration
executing your expressions with lyrical assassination
Chiquita Baity
Categories:
preconceptions, slam, universe,
Form:
Free verse
Bound by preconceptions of what is and what cannot be,
we condemn and deny life's inherent duplicity,
that birds sing the songs of God is truly reality
and our thoughts and dreams take flight like leaves from an autumn tree.
Categories:
preconceptions, allegory, faith, lifeautumn,
Form:
Rhyme
Why do we go around seeking each others frowns?
You’ve got to let go of preconceptions to make friends down town.
Begrudge no man his time in hand.
A little known something isn’t enough to go around.
Attentively looking out of glasses that make the world seem round
Don’t get caught up in the hold down wearing dressing gowns.
Wino’s and dino’s keeping flies down
Jumping hoops and flying coops keep the whining clowns
And in the end you must look for a hand
Underneath there’s so much going around
There’ll be no more sighing and lying down on the ground
And oh 'shoot' you say it was me who was found
And it’s all going to be ok when they take you away
Yes it’s all going to be ok on your final day
An end to tears and frantic breath
Let it go until there’s nothing left.
And it’ll be ok when it all goes away
No one can have a final day
With tears of joy I’ll hear you say
Let it go until there’s only peace left.
Categories:
preconceptions, death,
Form:
The Naked Truth
He stands before you butt assed naked
Stripped of all preconceptions, false assertion or allusions
All that he once convinced himself to be true
Now lies before him in a dark, dank, putrid puddle.
Who he once believed himself to be
Has been thrashed and scattered to the four directions
With the cyclonic force of an oppressively hot sirocco wind.
All of his persona have been revealed, his masks are now transparent.
He pathetically attempts to engender qualities such as
Compassion, empathy, kindness, and honesty,
But, he is as Teflon, nothing sticks.
Like a frightened animal, his eyes on the lookout
His movements, his actions, are purely instinctual,
All that exist is the moment, the present, Right Now!
Exposed to the world, he cringes in complete and utter disgrace.
He craves for an exit, a means of escape, to disappear.
Suddenly aware of his nakedness, he vainly attempts to cover himself.
Likened to Adam in the garden,
A man beaten down, brutalized, defeated
Trying to pick up the pieces of his shattered life
Categories:
preconceptions, abuse, anger, angst, betrayal,
Form:
Free verse
How do we look at other humans? Do we tend to intuitively judge by outer appearance, clothes, gender, race, age, social status or do we recognize and embrace the spirit of God indwelling in them.
Though we all own a mirror in our judgement pocket
we haven't always reflected what we see
sometimes we reflect what we want and need and desire
instead of what truly is. Acknowledging the true essence of the
materialized human before us takes wisdom, insight and clear viewed
OMNIPRESENCE
Sometimes we look with our eyes but we do not truly see
sometimes we look with our hearts but get lost at sea
Don't judge a book by its cover they say but often, we skip the end
Tell the truth at all times, tough the mirror does not lie, we
use evasive techniques to shadow the body. we distort
and then the image goes,
"MISSING"
In this all intrusive re-arranged world of ours
it takes great courage to face the man and woman inside the mirror,
if we cannot truly admit our misconceptions and preconceptions,
then we won't be able to change our perception,
its all about perspective and clear view, isn't it ?
December 4, 2023
Categories:
preconceptions, analogy, mirror,
Form:
Free verse