Best Unthinking Poems
Earth was sending a long
shadow on the moon.
A great night for both of them.
*
A city of dreams
lies still. A divine path
opens for the erring earthlings.
*
A night falls
surreptitiously on the lake.
The moonlight was trapped by waves.
Satish Verma
as age creeps up
so does self-awareness &
as self-awareness taps one’s shoulder
so comes the cloak of
scrutiny---
meticulous, unrelenting,
self-scrutiny,
floods into focus &
begins to complicate
every
move,
with a kind of idiosyncratic meddling
that never seemed to bother a person
before,
but now, now
it is all that one can bear---
every action gets questioned &
based on its merit in the
past, present & future,
it may never get put into motion---
with all occurrences in one’s life
being brought down under the
microscope,
to say that this way of living is a bit
ridiculous, would be more than an
understatement.
stepping away from such overthinking
does not mean that one loses focus altogether
but rather that pushing all frivolous matters aside
takes the forefront &
unthinking prevails,
as an artist does when the concept of “play”
consumes all their energy, as opposed to
reducing one’s actions to deadlines,
profit & “proper etiquette” in the field of one’s
choice---
finding a way to
end worries about the conclusion of efforts &
stir up fun in the moment
is the way to go,
a policy of broad strokes
with the basis of experience &
prior knowledge,
seems to be an appropriate strategy
to rid the mind of the cumbersome nature of
thinking too much.
You placed yourself in harm’s way.
I hated that you would join the fray.
Now you bravely faced and fought
the devil I had stupidly bought.
It was unwise, absurd from the start,
Foolish and silly to be in my heart.
You said, “No. Let’s not do this.”
I said, “Yes.” and gave you a kiss.
You staunchly stood in front of the crowd
Leaving me behind, frightened and cowed.
The melee began and I was gobstruck.
How could I have bought such bad luck?
You moved with dexterity but in the end
You were injured but thankfully, left to mend.
A black and blue eye and raging road rash,
I regretted my call to be bold and brash.
I realized how immature I had been.
I should have listened to you my friend.
You took the beating rather than flee.
Courageously defended my right to be me.
Identical twins. Never having a name.
Referred to as the Tone Twins. Hey, Twins! Twinsie.
Assumed to be one person for the first eighteen years.
Until one could get away, leaving fast, chased by the other.
Twin A is independent, likes being alone, seeks solitude.
Her identical-looking sister draws a crowd, likes attention.
Twin A is a creator, forming poems, cartoons, and artistic works.
Her identical-looking sister believes these outliers are nonsense.
Twin A is a reader, especially likes non-fiction,
biographies, and history.
Her identical-looking sister has not picked up a book for fifty-years.
Twin A has sought her own identity her entire life, distancing herself.
Twin B, still wants to dress alike, thank you very much,
still seeking attention.
Twin A is steadily reminding herself she has escaped,
she can stop running now.
Twin B is begging her to come to her church
and wear identical outfits; but Twin A loathes church.
Twin A enjoys her flowers, her vegetables, and her life.
As does Twin B, who continues to hope they are exactly alike.
More or less
Walking
More or less
Reading and writing
More or less
Thinking,
Was what
Has been.
Much less walking
Much less reading and writing
Much less thinking
Is much, much concerning.
No walking
No reading and writing
Outsourcing thinking
As the great AI unthinking “revolution”
That will be
The end.