Best Self Satisfaction Poems
Hi Dad, I miss you. I’m sure you’re very happy up there and all the prep you did while you were sick paid off in wondrous ways.
I’ve been thinking about our past and the good times you made sure we had along with the food on the table and the roof over our heads. I’ll never understand how you managed to raise six kids on your salary.
Communication was never a big thing in our family. Your funeral was a prime example. It was just a sad showing before the mass and then a quiet ceremony. I was so happy to honor your passing by playing deep glorious Gregorian chants as loud as I could to accompany your rising above the clouds. It was as close to a ritual as it was going to get.
What we don’t verbalize stays hazy, unexplored and undefined. Like you, I keep everything inside, I avoid conflict at all costs – overall this really hasn’t worked against me too much, the few times I exploded were not particularly winning outcomes. What’s the use? Teach someone a lesson? That never works. I’m just as happy being the way I am. It seemed to have worked out for you as well.
You were a good model for following your heart and what you believed in even if you knew you’d pay for it. It was the price of freedom and making your own decisions. Self-satisfaction was the ultimate prize. I’m just like you – stubborn to the point of making stupid decisions and not caring that they’re stupid. That’s the way we exercise our freedom.
If you can, I’d love it if you helped me to discover my life mission and what lessons I need to learn down here. One of these lessons must be to learn to make do with minimum money: as depressing as it can get, struggling does have its rewarding upside of promoting creativity.
Maybe you can also guide me in my prep for the big final trip.
I love you, I miss you. I’ll see you again some day.
Always your baby girl xx
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~A SIMPLE MAN~ 2020
AP: 1st place 2020
Posted on March 7, 2020
When did we lose days when truth was high,
when friend was a friend, years unending;
Government could look us in the eye.
Before hurling insults was trending,
seems like it was many years ago.
when we hid words that were offending.
The drug scene was pending; we didn't know
Facebook was, thankfully, then unseen
Heros in space was our nightly show
Today's world has dissolved into mean,
self-satisfaction its new refrain.
Perhaps science found hidden hate gene?
Prolific drugs causing pain and gain.
Streets are the beds where homeless lie.
Children, babies in obvious pain.
Some walk by not hearing silent cry
Who'll save us all from upheaval street?
Mother Earth shudders and time grinds by.
Our song became a discordant beat.
How will it end? At best bittersweet.
December 29, 2022
for Now and Then Poetry Contest
by Unseeking Seeker
A man of few words, my father taught by example.
The best thing he showed me
was to set my standards high
and to be my own judge -
always modest never defiant or arrogant.
If something needed doing
I should do it without expecting praise -
self-satisfaction being the ultimate goal.
He taught me to set my sights high
and to be my own boss
no matter the circumstances –
to be fiercely independent
not count on anyone.
I learned to go about my business and be self-sufficient.
I did not do well in teams – like a bull in a china shop
I had my objectives and went at them as a loner.
I never saw it exactly that way
but I did get good at it to a fault.
One day, it was a rude awakening when
it dawned on me how I was doing things for people
and they were consistently ungrateful.
I knew the problem couldn’t completely be with them
My so-called modesty had become self-fulfilling servitude.
It finally registered that if people didn’t have to ask,
they didn’t have to say ‘thanks’.
And that never mattered to me until
I realized that they were in fact not thankful
And THAT was a whole different ball game.
I literally spent days if not weeks
stubbornly trying to unlearn and reprogram myself.
Tried to get it through my skull that
if people ASK for something,
or at least ADMIT they would appreciate something,
that’s when they might actually appreciate it
How cheap can people be -
what a warped world we live in.
For me, it was a hard lesson in human nature -
I was actually an enabler encouraging people
to take me for granted.
People really do like games
even the ones who say they hate them.
Admittedly it was late in life I learned this lesson
And I admit I often still choose to do things
without getting people to actually ask.
But at least I’m cognizant of my ways.
And admittedly when I do pause
and play the ‘asking’ game, it does pay off.
But I’m so unbelievably stubborn I don’t always
want to pay the price for their gratitude
so to this day, if I feel something needs to be done
I’ll just get it done.
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Posted on April 25, 2018
Note: "Arete": Pronounced [ ahr-i-tey ]
Sometimes our best efforts go unnoticed
by everyone but ourselves.
We strive mightily to succeed and accomplish
something we think is important
and of value to others
that ultimately ends up in the proverbial wastelands
of unseen and unrecognized accomplishments.
Poets know this all too well
as we put in endless hours
of deep thought and effort
to mold a few letters and words together into
something never seen, heard, or experienced by another
to lift one's heart and soul up off the ground
or change or challenge a reader's perspective
on any number of the innumerable mysteries
and enigmas of life profound.
In sum, we strive to shed new light on those around.
Too often, however, our efforts fall far short
of those whose eyes we hope to entertain
and our endeavors appear to be all in vain.
But are they? While we may be writing
for the response and recognition of others,
above all, we should be writing for ourselves,
because at the end of the day, good writing
is an arduous, lonely and persnickety pursuit
towards happiness, self-satisfaction and improving
our own mental well-being and state of mind.
Writing builds character and helps us shine.
The ancient Greeks called it "Arete," meaning excellence,
or the extreme commitment to attain.
It's nothing new to poets or writers of any kind
or any other person who's dedicated
to being, doing and/or becoming the best
that they can possibly be
at whatever it is they're striving to achieve.
It's just a little something we would all do well
to remind ourselves from time to time.
When the recognition doesn't arrive
to fill our hearts and heads with pride
or obstacles stand in our way,
remember writing means more than what we say.
And blessed are they who think
in terms of Arete`.
good morning of day
tailor birds chirping out my window
mild breeze flowing
dawn of the white diamond
golden sunshine from the far sky
a piece of your smiling
fair and coolness of the surrounding
feeling of drizzling in rainless daybreak
news paper on the table
sipping on a cup of raw tea
bitterness gives birth sweetened sense on tongue
you are on lotus meditation
bathing, having breakfast
coming out for the daily job
a life mixture of many things
solicited and unsolicited
mixed up here in this estuary of life
at the breaking of eyes resting
out of the home, of me, of you
my existence wandering to wondering
it’s a life, competition to enjoy happiness
somewhere I find, somewhere I tired
but the elixir of life on your smiling, concession
makes self-satisfaction in the competition
-September 25, 2019 Chattogram
Some love provoking the comfortable
Raising the ire of those set in their way
Stirring up tension among the implacable,
Start embers glowing, then walk away.
They wear the smirk of self-satisfaction,
Troublemakers are consistently annoying
Making inane arguments for a reaction,
Argument for argument’s sake enjoying.
Nasty creatures they who poke the fire
Leaving disgruntled feelings in their wake,
Seems they always want to nurture ire
Between their companions discord make.
With every intention to walk unscathed
While hurting feelings of foes and friends
Ever quick to fan the flames at issues raised
Then especially reluctant to make amends.
Written September 24, 2022
the goldfish
looks out
at the distorted world
through a glass bowl
and tries to make sense of it
he watches the room about him
and those that feed him
with self satisfaction
unknowingly waiting for death
and a burial at sea
(This is my first poem about myself, please comment.)
I wake up every single day
telling myself everything is okay.
I laugh, joke and smile
but that will only last a while.
Then I get home, and take off the mask
in a feeling of self identity i long to bask.
Everything I do is just a distraction
because i know i'll never have any self-satisfaction
As I lay down alone in my room alone
a i can wish is that i have a clone.
Maybe they can live a better life
where they don't end everyday with a knife.
The clock goes off so i put the mask on again
I look in the mirror and see a woman,
I'm sure that's what everyone can see
but that's not who I'm supposed to be.
I smile, laugh and joke
it makes me want to choke
No, what I said was a lie
It makes me want to die.
My life is just like a clock
rewinding everyday, tic-tock
and again I walk down the same path
which always ends in a bloodbath.
I keep telling myself to go a different route
but I don't and it makes me want to shout.
Day after day I go back there,
How much more must I bear?
Today is the day I finally learned.
At that corner is where I turned.
In the end there is no bloodshed,
so maybe i won't end up dead.
Here as I wander through this vast and sometimes unsympathetic world, with those who claim to be more civilized than they that walk with their backs to the sun…yet they fight amongst each other and reek havoc and rage war and shed each others blood over trivial matters like the color of each others skin or the way in which you should worship our God! They don’t even love each other as they should as the word of God so commanded them to do! They even rage war inside their own homes…sons against their fathers, they are each filled with hate and malice towards each other...for a status of dominations, which matters not in death but only to the here and now, which passes like the speed of light. They are vain and self absorbed inside of a world in which they have each created with delusions of grandeur and deceit. No true love for each other yet they claim to be supreme beings above all others? Animals don’t kill just for the thrill or just because they can, they do it only to survive and because sometimes they are in fear. But we do it out of self satisfaction or just because we can…take heed my brothers and sisters all is not good and what appears to be good is not, for it is far more important to love and submit to each and other than to stand as sole king or queen on hill were no one else lives or comes…somehow our good intent to become more better than the animals has turned into some type of misdirection on why we are really here? Love can't be misdirected, it can only be not given or received.
SELF ACTUALISATION
S- Senses smoothly surpass
E -Existing eclipsed envelope
L - Levitate limitless label
F - Fulfillment fathomed foolproof
A Amidst ambiguity,accomplishment’s ambrosia
C Countless challenges clearing capacity charismatic
T True talent ,tough-resolve’s taintless tryst
U Unrestrained Unicorn unfolds uplifting mileu
A Autonomous amicable assuaged agenda
L Liberty luxuriant lights life’s laurel
I Incredible ingenuity imprints on invincible grafitti
S Sustainable self-satisfaction, summit of success
A Appropriate actions attracting attainment’s aura
T Tolerating twists, tactful, total trust on self in test
I Immortalising integrity, persona influential confetti
O Optimism,Opportunism orbed in life’s ostinato
N Not being perfect but with poise handling imperfection
7th November 2016
for San Woo's Contest
Double Acrostic
theme-Self actualisation
The Ghost Dance
The spirit of hopeful salvation.
A shirt of impenetrable protection.
White man’s bullets, deep penetration,
killing hundreds with insatiable aggression.
Wounded Knee, becoming a place for destruction
of spirt, of body, of women and children, compunction
never to become a part of white man’s conscious compassion
as he steals, plunders, rapes, pillages, kills with self-satisfaction
Today, hundreds of years later, First Nations battle white man’s gratification
for the lands left the Land Owners, who were just care givers, never their possession.
B. J. “A” 2
November 2nd 2016
Hidden Beneath the Rainbow
Guatemalan villages have rainbows of dreams.
Magical thought whereupon each soul gleams.
Locked by a culture engraved on the soul.
Harvests where births’ golden customs unroll.
Living antiquated amid pompous brochures
Sleeping upon mats on plank beds or hut floors.
Boys and girls may not date or co-mingle.
Marriages arranged without knowing lust’s tingle.
In homes of adobe an empire is stayed.
Within those four walls, the future is laid.
Bounded by mountains and winding footpaths
Encroached by the world, walking different paths.
Families stay warm around a hearth of three stones,
Braving the simple life without moans and groans.
Stunning people clad in colorful handmade clothes.
The earth is their friend, their skills, and maestros.
Milling their coffee, chili peppers, and corn.
Homegrown products produced feed these freeborn.
Harvests of sweat and self-satisfaction
Hand worked acres and strength still in fashion.
Hidden near volcanoes; tucked in God's hands.
Generations of peoples have loved on those lands.
Glowing beauty shines beneath heat and straw hats.
Faces aglow, tourists hoping for chats.
Gleaming simplicity knows modernization's foes.
That exploited attraction where vacationers go.
Escaping the fast pace and the greediness flow.
San Pedro la Laguna, hidden beneath the rainbow –
© August 3, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen
REFERENCES: http://www.artemaya.com/artist_life_bp.html
http://www.bootsnall.com/articles/05-12/a-taste-of-tranquility-life-on-the-shores-of-lake-atitlan-san-pedro-la-
laguna-guatemala.html
Diseased incubator of mutated humanity
A festering cesspool of rotten ideals,
And ancient plots of religious restraint
Or the liberation from.
Acidic with greed and selfishness.
Base and seductive, the nature of societal allure
Indulgence, self-satisfaction and gross misconduct
Or just inaction is even worse.
At least those atrocious individuals have a spine.
They have picked a side.
Bought into all we are suppose to.
Grow up believing and hoping to become a productive member of.
The death machine they are rivets on a gear.
They may not be hero's or martyrs but they know their place.
You on the other hand remain complacently paralyzed in fear.
Can not recognize bondage for what it is , what it makes you.
A spineless disgrace. A causeless activist with no identity.
A blank slate, a featureless face.
Delicate bonds woven into cobwebs of complex relationships,
Intricate strings spun into bundles of heavy responsibilities;
Confusing problems sewn into patterns of puzzling circumstances,
Strands of forgotten,unkept promises annealed into heedless betrayals;
Rings of dark,mysterious sins forged into chains of salvation and penitence,
Abstract ideas and unsaid words lost in a confound conundrum of unfathomable thoughts;
Myriad struggles and strifes knitted into an eternal web of wars within,
Pearly beads of dreams adorned upon a silver string of hope;
Glittery golden wishes embellished upon shimmering little joys,
Unknown little joys and haloes of happiness skim over a blissful content smile;
Ancient sorrows and aching grievances veiled under salty droplets of tears,
Threads of oblivious reasons entwined into fabrics of complicated enigmas of emotion;
Wiry solace and self-satisfaction entangled into a mesh of silently complacent compromises;
All the grains of life sift through the sieve of experiences,
Fitting into voids,gathering in a heap of wisdom;
All the delicate complexities of life seep through me,
Filling in pores,giving me,"a mortal",an essence of life.
Darkness fall's the killer awake's
pull's on his boot's time to hunt
the killer has an evil siniser twisted mind
no feeling's, no moral's, no regret's
just self-satisfaction total gradifaction
the family of victim's he hurt never
come's to mind
he awaken's in a drunken -drug vision
time to hunt