Best Transparency Poems
breathe air breathless
mirror, I'm cold for you
our whisper crystallizes in
outside white; so my dark
warmed frosty wet
The black and orange dust
comes off on my fingers
revealing the fragile mesh
so easily crushed
therefore brave
I was troubled
the color was so loose
so removable to my hand
but even more at the
transparency beneath
Oh, don't go catching butterflies
until you are prepared to see
the underpinning delicate and clear
where there is courage
destructibility and fear
Author Note: I wrote this after the Address last night as my take on the transparency of our
government.
Where does the white go
when the snow melts?
It becomes transparent,
for all to witness its passage
from one form
to another?
It will never again have substance
or be recognized as what
was its original state.
Transparency,
doomed to mix with
unsavory elements,
no longer a brilliant white,
rather,
becomes covert.
Covered by dirty slush
to be stomped throughout
the halls of government,
to be spread around
under the guise of openness.
Soon,
will become invisible,
no longer a nuisance,
transparent, to forever
be squelched
by power and corruption
hiding behind closed doors,
where transparency is not allowed,
where truth becomes lies,
where is hidden....
where the white goes
when the snow melts
“LIKE A MADMAN THINKS HE'S GOD, WE THINK WE'RE MORTAL”. Delaland, Speech on Shadows
Transparency is the key to the social harmony. Transparent people pass through each other like light through water. No one blocks out the sunshine, no one bars the way, no one stands in line in front of the other. The content of pockets, stomachs and minds are all in plain view. Mutual permeability, politeness, indifference. The see through popeyed souls, as sleepy as fish in an aquarium, come alive only at the sight of you, poet. You're opaque and therefore dangerous. You're a poet and therefore guilty. Alas, there is nothing more impenetrable than the walls in a transparent prison. But soon, from the height of your scaffold, you will see the world as opaque as you that awaits you on the other side of life.
get him grab his legs
hold him down I'll chop it off…
where'd you go poet
Dedicated to Cincinnatus C., the protagonist of the novel "Invitation to a Beheading" by Vladimir Nabokov
21.11.2019
Opaque Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausin
Dark money donors
Opaque Senate owners
The "NON-Transparent Political Leader says: We who are "Transparent" will "Help All"!!!!!!!!! We will "Help" both "The richest of the rich",and "The poorest of the poor",and if "You elect me I will open every door!!!!! The "NON-Transparent Leader" gets elected: and as soon as he or she gets elected to "Public Office" he or she "Cuts back on "Feeding The Poor",Cuts back on providing health care for those who pay their salaries through the "Taxes " that they pay",and make it "LEGAL" FOR THEMSELVES "NEVER TO PAY TAXES EVER SO THAT DEMOCRACY WILL ROT AND DECAY!!!!!! 'THIS IS THE TRUE DEFINITION OF "THE NON-TRANSPARENT POLITICIAN WHO GOT ELECTED TO PUBLIC OFFICE BY BEING DECEITFUL TO THOSE WHO THEY ARE SUPPOSE "TO LEAD AND SERVE"!!!!!THE "NON-TRANSPARENT POLITICIAN BECOMES "TRANSPARENT"WHEN WE SEE WHAT HE OR SHE DELIVERS TO THE PEOPLE THAT THEY ARE SUPPOSE TO LEAD AND SERVE!!!!HOW ARE TEACHER OF OUR CHILDREN DOING IN "THE GREAT STATE OF KENTUCKY""? THEY SEEM TO BE COMPLAINING NOW,ABOUT WHO THEY VOTED IN!!!! IT IS A SIN WHEN A 'TEACHER' WILL NOT LEARN: WILL THEY VOTE HIM OR HER IN AGAIN? IS THIS A 'NON-TRANSPARENT POLITICIAN WHO 'THE TEACHERS OF OUR CHILDREN VOTED IN? WHAT WILL THEY HAVE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT IF THEY "VOTE HIM OR HER IN AGAIN"? EVIL AND SIN IS A REAL REALITY,AND "SIN IS SOMETHING THAT HUMANS DO!!!! "EVIL" IS SOMETHING THAT WE "DO NOT" HAVE TO DO!!!!! WE AS HUMANS DO NOT HAVE TO "HATE".....WE REALLY CAN CONTROL THAT IF IT IS OUR WILL? HATE IS "EVIL",AND IS WORST THAN "SIN"!!! WE SIN AGAIN,AND AGAIN,AND AGAIN,BECAUSE WE ARE WOMEN,AND MEN!!!! WE ARE BORN IN"SIN'!!!!!! WE ARE NOT BORN "IN EVIL'!!!!!! WE SOMETIMES ENJOY 'SIN";WE ****** AGAIN,AND AGAIN,AND AGAIN!!!!!NOT IN 'HATE OR EVIL"!!!!HATE AND EVIL IS THE REAL TRUE SIN!!!! GET RID OF HATE,AND THEN YOU GET RID OF EVIL SO THAT YOUR 'LIFE CAN BEGIN"," AGAIN,AND AGAIN,AND AGAIN!!!!!! WE ARE SINNERS UNTIL THE END!!!!!
transparency
egg white runs down clear glass bowl....
dew 'pon daylilies
The Godliness of Adoption is...
Or is it not?
…A beautiful spring sprung floret of rose. A rose brought home from humanity's colorful garden of trust? Yet, it was not all that long ago when each cut stem, entrusted to its own gardener's worthy and caring hands?
Hands, now too soon stripped and emptied. Hands that were easily led astray by the coersions of now self-appointed zealots. They, with hands marked with ever stained bloody thorn pricked fingers, which now present each torn stem of rose on heaven-like sent pedestals; until met is a king's ransom; these thirty pieces of silver, being the ask of many an angelic bible-toting broker.
Adoption is...
Or is it not?
...An act next to Godliness when these disguised angels are loosed to search in the mist of this motherland? They, the finders of our pink and blue hued overflow spillage of souls.
This is the nature of guised humanity. Delicately does it assist society in the dredge of waiting collection ponds, pools of tears that gleamingly mirror you and I; and from where our memory should fill with sounds. The siren-like cries of which, now link with our distantly lost... ...or coldly disengage us of our not of want…
Adoption is...
Or is it not?
...The beautiful water lilys of pond? Those that so serenely float above an ever skimming conscience that is this God-fearing couple; a polarized complacency so sweetly lost amidst its own mesmerizing shimmer. They, fooled without inkling of shame. An innocence of eyes that fail to see transparency by such weakly given puruse. A view that cannot pierce the murkily veiled mire that hides just below its own watery reflection...
...And where underneath trails this tangled web that will soon unravel in route to tie with each long waited conscience…
Adoption is it or is it not our "Humanities with Consequence"?
New Jersey Identified Adoption shown as an open door will always yield to truth left on the threshold.
Ah, transparency, do you see
A realm of understanding not
Within the bounds of sight
But within the soul of harvest
She ellipse the tragedy between
The felt moment and the real
Down to earth signifier, which
Doesn’t escape her mind like
The ways of the known versus
The unknown but completes
The ways of her wayward soul
Going from one path to another
Reaching for an arc to fathom
Before her eyes betray her dire
Warmth losing the tenderness
Of her heart, which screams at
Those that don’t reach for
Immortality, between time and
Heartache she losses touch
Of the truth of the events shown
And love is lost forever between
The pants of the truth, and real
Words of wisdom that only tries
To bring lies of her world searching
For the helpless like herself
Losing touch of space, the area
Where she denies herself the ideas
Of her meandering ritual of faith
There her eyes see the reality
Of the situation, and transparency
Seems to open her eyes to truth
And that of juxtaposition enters
Russell Sivey
When you look at me ,What do you see? Do you see the best or just the worst in me? A mother by the young age of seventeen, Bittersweet moment alot of fear, yet a special day, December the 26th day , your birth took place, Aniya Gabrielle a gift to me. Do you see more than my mistakes ,the tears i cry , late nights up awake? Do you see the love in me, heart of gold broken time after time. Do you see the frustruation in me? Trying to be better than my yesterday , but yet all i hear is my past short comings ,having two kids. Do you not see the good in me From the outside looking in, looking right through me. The best in me , my talents ,writing , my true aspirations and dreams. Do you see the hurt in me ? Riddiculed over old things, Transparency , you continue to look right through me , my god is great and still not through with me. A work in progress , A child of the king ,Aiming for nothing but great things. Do you see the real me or are you blinded by the worst in me, Who i use to be? Transperency ,outside looking in ,Im just and striving for the best, So much more to me than my past ,Now do you see the best in me or are you still simply transparent to the good in a girl like me.
I'm standing here staring in the mirror.
I can't stand the image portrayed.
A figure wrapped in a vest of flesh,
but empty it is,
living without an organ in its chest.
I am soulless like roadkill.
Must be, to allow the birth of tragedy
from the womb of love.
I've walked among the souls
with melodic heartbeats that sang gospels
without even speaking a single word.
Or maybe I just couldn't hear the lyrics
because they were only meant to be felt.
And when I look upon my flesh I see veins,
but the nerves of sensory and emotion aren't felt.
My vision of sympathy
and empathy are transparent.
I am possessed by the inhumane spirit
of a specimen whose alienation is love.
This is the only justifiable answer to the question
that I could possible scrape up.
I deserted the love of my life
at the time that she was parched
from the stress that sucked her dry
and thirsting for the indisputable love
that every soul deserves.
Especially her.
She's something like an angel.
I misused her trust for deception
and played with her heart
as if they were piano keys.
Striking each note until a soft tune
of rhythmic blues resonated
within her heart.
I clipped the wings from her back
and allowed her to spiral to a crash landing
into the depths of bane.
I couldn't sense that she only spread her wings
to help me incline me to new heights,
yet I only helped her endure decline to new lows.
The thoughts running through my mind
maintain their endurance with consistency.
Until this day, they have yet to cease and retire.
The image in the mirror is beginning to fade to ghost.
It took me way too long to realize
that she was a major part of me.
And as she drifts further from my grasp,
I lose more and more of myself.
Soon she will be gone forever.
And there will be nothing left in sight,
because there will be no me.
If I were not a GAY white male
living in the USA,
I wonder if I would have grown my LeftBrain up
to so easily hear
Donald John as Head Pharisee
for privileged religiously-held Nationalism--
a totalitarian fake-idol
substituting fake-patriotic raptures
against sacred polyculturing outcomes
for all multiculturing
underprivileged creolizing
natural agnostic and spiritual religious Cultures.
Susan Werner asks
"If God is good
and God is great,
Why is your heaven so small?"
If USA is good,
right or wrong, and
If USA is patriotically great,
loyal to democratic principles of active healthy cooperation
and therefore morally divine,
Why is your current CEO Pharisee of Privilege
so egotistically small,
so badnews mendaciously tiny,
rather than globally sacred
ecologically Great Transitioning
toward restoring climates of polypathic healthy wealth?
If God's timeless polyphonic Paradise
is too narrow,
too spiritually elitist,
for those of us naturally and/or spiritually underprivileged
victims of Trumpian Win/Lose privileged Rapture smallness,
then how sure are you
you have never had a queerly unorthodox sensual thought?
A flicker of sacred matriarchal woundedness?
A flash of natural wet warm wombishness?
An addictive glimmer of longing to reassociate
with sacred Virginal MotherEarth?
How sure are you of not preferring
innocent transgender lily love for each NewDawn--
Raptures in and of NonViolent Revolutionary Fields?
If we cannot recover
some active multicultural hope of landing together
in God's jealously occupied
and punishingly withheld Paradise,
if only to avoid monoculturing risks
of hellfire's sweeping overpopulated damnation
for timeless eternity
of Here with Decomposing/Recomposing Now,
perhaps it is time to recall
Jesus's God of Love,
WinWin Grace,
restorative ego-ecological
co-messianic
co-operative SpiritNatures,
secular Ego with sacred Eco ZeroZone
nondually co-arising
rapturous WinWin healing.
Transparent secular/sacred political vocations
as eco-ministers reforesting wounded Earth
to heal internal addictions to multiculturing Love.
You have deadline
You have plans
Your eyes, your ears, all faculties gage
Journey on
Pause for the Source to whom you pray
Omens will poke, answers will click, ding, hover close
Who else would hold your hand with Master plan?
Back to square one
You've summoned successions of supplications
Isn't one enough fueling your needs? When
Whirl of stardust corporate, and
Past and present reflections says the future is now
Just trod softly, patiently my friend
The start of any work of art begins with thought
Look, listen. Hold words fueling no harm
But warm your heart and mind
Read any good book
Our inner lamp glows brighter
And our burden light
Yes, you have a plan
Another challenging one
Think transparency
Pay keen attention
As you move along life's net
Help is on the way.
*
The only thing I hate more than unintelligence
Is a bold-faced liar that thinks they blend amongst friends
Using weakenesses as weapons falsely condescending contention
Crashing house of cards paper tiger denys a correction
Even knowing that they face something beyond profound
This game they play only works on what is gained and not found
So when real life hits it leaves them with a lie to undo
But I saw you even though it ceased I just can't let it be true
Nothing personal but you deny that we are both foes
In battle fought with intellect you can't deny I won't lose
And this certainty it scares you to the core you recluse
Like a coward you back out acting as if nothing ensued
But we both know your true face lacks a backbone to stand it
And that something is why I prevail locking door sealing in madness
Coping mechanism feeds demons that just hand over rope
Slithered navigating life upon fissure ridden slippery slope
Had it coming you just didn't know it came with account
Now you're seeing and believing left without not a doubt
Submerged skin deep
in solace,
you play trickery
in your silent rebellion.
Soil claims sanctuary
on defiant children
like your veil lingers.
You're still sweet.
Sheepish smile behind war paint,
we're not so different
you and I.
I too have bled music
during my vow of silence
and given myself up.