Best Suppositions Poems
i have kissed beneath summer’s sweltering
fragrance your array of spackled decay
in lovely gardens; sweet roses weltering
plundered and plucked; an incidental lay
beneath your satin I have run my fingers,
trembled as famished breasts groped my
own; your mellow poetry still lingers
imperviously enriching - and when i try
to kiss another i feel your haunting roots
encroaching my tingled thighs and i shake
beleaguered by your lavender; heat shoots
through laboring reeds sprouted mistakes
pale panhandlers passionately proposed
then by your tender
i’m awaiting... (so you suppose)
4/8/17
From downstairs comes an overload
of lies and suppositions
out of Washington. I shut the door
and open up a book of poems
that chip and twitter like hard-
luck sparrows. And underneath
that harmonic line, I tune
in Rodrigo, who plaints guitar
to sing of places no gentler
by the blood that bears us, lung
to brain and hungers. And yet,
more beautiful than this evening’s
news, an elegy of strings.
In the field of life-
There’s a cause to strife.
For us to thrive-
We all must strive.
There are oppositions-
Beware of commotions.
Give no suppositions,
Attacks are no assumptions.
As a team we play-
With a goal every day.
The drive to win,
The play all have seen.
Every tactics with a pass-
Is a marriage with the grass.
The children of the couple;
Others it can topple
With hands on deck
There’ll be no wreck
For a goal-
Is a radiation of every role
Incriminations bolster theories
pestered by daily
salutations, delusions
sanctimoniously intensified
by the written word
Your philosophy exculpates
delirium while triumphs
wisk away irremediable
suppositions that defy logic.
Hypocrisy appears delineated
with confused ramifications.
Cerebrum and Cerebellum
transpose inaccuracies into
soft, sweet music to the soul.
Artistic creation utilized
to succumb basic instincts
with craft: skills of
evasion and deception
manifest themselves in
your daily realm as you
deliver time's desires.
(with a spark of God)
To govern a myriad selection
Of one mind and legion.
Top tier parasitic collection
From every living region.
It's not subjective good or evil,
Moral or immoral, right or wrong --
But, a wanton cellular mass primeval
Versus ego and super-ego strong.
Toxic algae over jellyfish abundant,
Floating in poisons of our making:
CO2, methane, livestock redundant.
Do Vegans dream of plant life taking?
Al Qaeda, ISIS, Boko Haram:
Brain-dead sheep of the clan,
Following blindly without exam,
Trading for virgins on Ramadan.
Black holes wandering
About Yellowstone caldera.
Plague virus pondering
A Thermonuclear plethora.
Anthropogenic extinction sirens:
Suffocating on dead Phytoplankton;
Lost in narcotics and hallucinogens;
Obsessive love via Keats and Byron.
At the precipice of an extraordinary evolution,
We must rid ourselves of ancient superstitions.
To continue our rise, or reverse in devolution?
Agnosticism seems wise -- so say my suppositions.
We are all improbable in our own way,
and who can augur the future?
I never could have laid out my course in advance,
though in looking back it all makes sense,
even if it was me flipping a coin (or if somebody flipped it for me).
Hindsight smooths the probabilistic waves,
and here I sit, having cast the coin,
having had the coin in pocket,
having gotten change at an early age,
the cashier having had a drawerful of metal,
the mint having stamped to its heart's content,
the metallurgists having had their smiles,
the miners having ground fault wiles,
the cosmos having performed admirably, elementally.
Here I sit, tonight's chautauqua taking place in a goblet of garnet, yea - a very phrontistery of fuchsia. Far be it from me to understate the euphonious manner in which the cork leapt from the bottle, the Olympian olfactory embrace, the bathykolpian brand of this elixir. The wind outside the window - what is it telling me? Am I entangled, unawares, in my ebullience, a ptarmic influence in the decoction escaping my notice? Am I blind to the greater reality, my words falling like amaurotic husks to the ground? Or, that given ground, does it emit the mephitic essence? Is this the supernatural revenge of some aspect of the wine's terroir, rendering the drinker typhlotic to the usufruct of this very forum, to an iatrogenic principle at work? Are we held at bay by external sternutatory Influence, all our self-reliant suppositions trumped by errhine externals?
Here I sit, wondering if 'tis no more than the contest of the Ego, Superego, and Id, grinding against one another in tribologic sculpting. Or is a spiteful, chthonian influence at work, stemming from that same terroir? Can the wine be blamed? Can we cry out, apotropaically, to rescue ourselves? Are conscious forces arrayed against us, or are we our own worst enemy? Is there a soil/soul for a wine? And is it only a fancy of Fortuna that I sit here tonight, deterministic tendrils floating around me in a manner that threaten my assumptions? Am I free of myself, or is there no such thing as such freedom? In the end, do all things come to one? Obfuscatory clarity - yes, I know, and peace won't sleep in the transparent bottom of my glass.
What splendid creatures God has formed.
I think of whales who swim above the silt,
giants of the sea that are cruelly harmed,
harpooned from life by men without guilt.
An industrious creature God has made
in the miniscule form of the worker ant,
hustlers gathering, never rest in the shade
while lazy people complain in angry rant.
What grievances men perpetually bemoan
with their fingers ever stretched for a handout.
In line for freebies while holding a new cell phone,
taking what they can; that's what they're about.
No notion or thought that giving is the better way.
We're the greediest animals this planet has ever seen.
Whales could easily crush the biggest ship in the bay,
and ants are busy keeping their home safe and clean.
Is there some lesson to be learned from ant and whale?
They lack free will and we can't hear what they speak.
Ants and whales commit no crimes sending them to jail.
Is it no wonder then, the future of mankind is so bleak?
Land is man's home, but we invade the depths of the sea
where whales swim and feed exactly where they should be.
What fear would mankind have if it had been God's decree
to let whales come ashore to roam among you and me?
What thought do we give for stepping upon little ants?
Even the red ones don't bother us until we annoy them.
If those insects took revenge and crawled up our pants,
would we have new respect and avoid living in mayhem?
You might think my words are ridiculous suppositions
but take a moment for some serious contemplations.
Whales don't hunt us; ants live in underground conditions.
Doesn't that make us a world of aggressive nations?
The Big Bang Theory and others devised.
Professors armed with latest editions.
Soon, teach as facts; oh, faith of youth revised.
Inspired, common suppositions.
Biblical creation too soon capsized.
Unaware, youth accepts false traditions.
Half-truths and questions upon young minds flay.
It irks me; I saw my faithfulness stray.
Had God finished his work in seven days?
But fields of plants and herbs had not been formed!
Had Adam not yet met his earthly phase?
That contradiction through my faith once stormed.
And countless questions set my soul ablaze.
Is Chapter two of Genesis malformed?
I prayed for answers; turned again to faith.
Pondering, wondering until Christ’s waith.
Inklings energized my logical mind.
For Genesis, decoding must be found. *
One’s faith in God never has to be blind!
Ask many questions with thoughts heaven bound.
Upon my brain, some secret truths would bind.
Before too long, the logic came around.
Yes, answer found, years ago; set me free.
Those first days began molecularly.
By searching fact and theory my trust grew.
I prayed for wisdom as I pondered life.
Past doubtful years had sent my faith askew.
Those days watched science lace my heart with strife.
But, God above would see my trust renew.
With deepest thought a helpful book was penned.
Genesis Decoded, brought faith, again.
I know there is a God who made all things.
Laws of physics and each atom show his force.
Genetics explored God’s created string.
Now, scientists have altered nature’s source.
Relativity, the Theory, God sings,
Molecules are moving along their course.
So let us feel and know wherein truth lies.
Upon the facts, not schemes, forever cries.
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Don't write for the contest, Contest
Sponsored by: Vicky Tsiluma
Ó January 26, 2014
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
* http://www.redbubble.com/people/daneann/writing/3355478-genesis-decoded
ALSO SEE http://www.redbubble.com/people/daneann/writing/3479742-bridging-the-
gap-between-science-and-religion-the-hypothesis
so many unknown variables to consider for such a tasking pursuit
a conditional ‘If’ but what if ‘whether’ reigns in a supreme challenge
conjectures battle refutations and synapses blocked in surrender
as long as suppositions succeeded in their hypothetical contemplation
the world may as well be flat and circle unhappily one of its moons
the ‘I’ would be futile a self negating deprecation on auto-destruct
and endless loop of no Self on a path to nowhere and nothingness
not of Buddha like Nirvana but hell on earth as we know it too well
a spinning confusion of gravity with levitation spared its flight of fancy
when meditation and pondering could not lift the soul above the mind
‘ruling’ that wishes to overcome suppression domination and power
appears a futile concept when freedom should be the ultimate aim
of course anarchy holds its merits but people cling to being governed
by false leaders fake news and an insatiable need for crude abdication
in an attempt to cast responsibility and shred all courage and hope
‘the’ poses the question of this or that where and when whether at all
a simple adverbial adjective refusing to rest on quiet incomplete duty
bereft of solitary meaning and such an imposter of clarity and precision
no stand alone metaphor of context and contingency lost in the process
but the planet needs answers and I do not give up easily if besieged
is there a ‘world’ out there a compass and globe in my restless attempts
to understand question emphasize deconstruct and give a sweet home
to live up to its promises and dreams as opposed to terminal decline
word has it that there are only illusions betrayal and survival of the fittest
engulfed in delusions conflagrations raging inferno straight from its core
‘I’ if it was able to resist compartmentalization of Ego Super Ego and Id
might not want the elusive generational torch snuffing out a last breath
maybe I am overthinking under emoting and have surrendered in vain
to lost beauty and a vacuum of distant echoes of an unforeseeable future
therefore I conclude that if I was the ruler I would ask my kids for advice
14th August 2020
I write to tell you of my life
But you compare meanings with dictionaries
And understand words
Think of this poem like a lover's fight
You told me if we quarrel I must not leave the bed
So I take it I must wrestle you until you yield
If you only bring your senses to words
You are like me, too sophisticated that morning
And too naive to understand
If you will enter into life
You first die bruise and broken
For why should find life if already you are alive
Is this not what you do to me everyday
If I was not a poem I would not even care
But I know I am written to be read
Deeply; to be profoundly understood
I resent dictionaries always sabotaging my imageries
I resent you imposing on me your twisted histories
How many have you had
Is there no private to abort your the incongruities of your womb
A poem must be read without suppositions
Without hesitation
It must be penetrated and rewarded with convulsions
I vomit in revulsion unless I am placated
For the ejaculation of truth,
That is deep semen from complex tissues
And feelings that for life are complex roots.
This morning at (long) last something-I was robbed in a way I was fearful curious about. What happened?!
Pickpockets are a myth, almost everyone I know have an experience-with.
Pickpocket by definition "a person who steals from the pockets or handbags of others in public places"*Pick pocketing is a crime that in my universe has some nobility because the thief uses no violence or coercion but in a slightly surreptitious furtively steel with the help of a pal carrying away one goods. The stolen item, a "deluxe" half pack of cigarettes whom he could add a wallet with ID's and a dozen dollars. The freakish part is that I track the embezzlement not thinking about any wrongdoing. Reading my daily paper in a coffee shop what pops in an unintended touch far from suspicion putting me wondering for a second and after returning to the usual awakening routine.
A block away when reaching for the pack and after obsessively looking for it, suppositions and hypothesis popped then the understanding. My imaginary fictitious person is true and despite unacceptable and inadmissible is kind of an art. I cannot identify the perpetrators but know exactly when it happened. The errand quickness done with mastery technique and the little loss increase my awareness to this lower members of the crime world that I still find enigmatic.
*Dictionary.com
The Soul Is Immortal - - -
can't be killed
will live on
in infamy
through eternity
if you have lived
a good, clean life.
It's an energy source
that transcends death,
moves through dimensions
with a heavenly flow
that has you questioning
time tested theories
based upon suppositions
that delve into
supernatural science fiction
with a twist
of earthly components
rummaging through
time.
Early morning hours:
Rain bans the sun
Mist drives out knowledge
and invites random
different reflections
ideas, hypotheses
suppositions
Little critters
or birds, squirrels
lawnmowerman
some friends
with persisting
incredibly annoying
loyal persuasion,
do not give up
Until you
frustrated
grab your book,
flee to the library:
silence
solitude, but still
sneakily
with love
and a smile
***
June 1, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Fail
To
Achieve
Personal
And society
Suppositions, make me feel like
An outcast that failed to pursue the traced objetives
Feeling drowned in a deep well, without seeing the light, even with the aid of a pill
4-23-2016
In acknowledging a moment
In appeasing friends and relatives real-time expectations
Yarns of lies are spread evenly on our fields of gold
Like a spider we spun, spin and map our web of deceits
We build layers upon layers of suppositions
Some would say its for our protection
Some would smirk and claim its their entitlement
And would boast on their supposed cleverness
If lie is the new truth
I rather be on my own
I rather not having plastic friends for my company
For when we considered lie as the new truth
We deviate from the true teaching
Mercy, mercy mercy me