Best Unthought Poems
Written: December 11, 2023
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Intricate depiction of a being?
That a single hand could create
Beneficial matters can be evanescent
When built out of yielding clay?
Molded into fiction, scales, and tails
In terms of creative process,
Ground and airborne entities
Morph into unthought-of shapes.
A refined intellect creates ephemera
Quickly under a gentle moonlight
I'm floating in the swaying elevator
Regarding heavenly breezes.
Hair converts into poet-trees from poetry
Yet untamed ideas are captivated
With the spirals and knuckles
Brilliant sculptor's vision and decision.
lifting our minds into untamed sight
Those who grasp this routine are lucky
And the beholders of moonbeam dreams
Pursue the path that moves the heart.
Forgotten you
As your mind collects the memories of yesterday
Forgotten You
Epiphanies tie into knotty strings of realization
That very moment. . .
You merely exist
Back then. . .those smiles
Those. . .distant laughs
Some you remember by name
Gone now maybe
Like the exhalation of the wind
Others dispersed in the world of arbitrary happening
Like leaves from falling, man-made trees
There is no doubt that they have
Forgotten you
Activate the bomb
Ignite the fuse
And you’re on next year’s history book
Never forgotten
But drained of all remaining good
That smile you gave
That happiness
The warm embrace so long ago
Salt-coated with piles of rubbish
Over last remaining mental spurts of comfort
Evil, evil, evil, evil, EVIL. . .
Always absorbed and remembered
. . .though never forgiven. . .
All good and gracious sentiments
Packed up in a box set nonchalantly in Downstair’s storage
. . .that chair with the broken leg in the corner of the room
That mangled cobweb holding a dangling, lifeless spider
A drowned sailor’s hat drifting through the current of the ocean
The single tear from a soldier’s vigilant, memory-stricken eye
The frustrating thoughts of a mute
The unchanged. . .HATED deformations
Forgotten you. . .
One soul brings to light weary, unthought-of happenings
Wedged deep into what she can only imagine
With not even a hint of understanding
. . .of the pain. . . .of the bewildering distortions
Of the ugly. . .
One soul merely vomits sickly verse after verse
As humanity embraces its downfall
The poet hangs onto her unjustifiable, forgotten. . .
Words
"Sugar Land"
Nine chains linked
Six silver sextants measure
their distance to Styx
Two hands unwritten
hold the Bee Keys tight
in a guarded lap
1 chain missed
He, revolutionary,
breaks the black line and
leans over
The Great Unthought Through
In full Light
the shadows
are burnt bright
without fear
she is kissed
spontaneously
In The Light Storm Electric
Nothing is noticed anymore
Nothing is missed
Point of Singularity
meets hip to hip
in the slow dance heat
Rome is burning
Flames
in a Light storm
two mirrors merging
In Sugar Land
two mirrors
meet
Inside her
Rome is burning
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
Higgs Boson Blues/Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
https://youtu.be/eFEyo3D6Fys
Jubilee Street/Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
https://youtu.be/GB6DMP9uDEI
We No Who U R/ Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
https://youtu.be/AOmFBmDyhy8
"Rome is not outside me,
but inside me.
Her feverish sweetness,
her tragic countryside,
her own beauty and harmony,
all these are mine,
for my thought and my work".
Modigliani
I sit in state of wonder
as my mind does ponder
over thoughts
which compared to thought are fonder
than t' prefer that thoughts no longer
would linger and finger about the essence
Of reality's encompassing presence
While'st I stare through care
To do all that I may dare
To alter all to do what in our minds is fair
as we find fair left behind
and that care is lost in time
all the point is lost in rhyme
the rhyme however is not a loss of point
infact the joint of with without
means no existance without could be
with and out of sencerity
and doubt begins to fade
the truth of lie has been made
we work with what we know
to let the spirit go and see our "destiny"
to come and no winds blow
o'r our path to let world show
that arrow follows path of bow
and further will the spirit go
with than without the firing bow
and string which wrings and sings
and begins to bring the thought to action
and begins the unaction of the unthought thought
as becomes what is now not and once what was
is only thought which stays unthought and reality's reality soon will rot
to grow the truth of lies and death
and life's cycle is now at best
when all is equal, leaving end and sequal
Childish eyes all bright and new,
all encompassing,alive,
unending days,years ahead,
sleep comes easy in our bed;
Taut skin,strength of vibrant youth,
old age remote and unthought,
the future is tomorrow;
Our seed into another
soon springs forth and generates
rings to the family tree,
pa to granpa,comes to be;
Then at this one step removed
we step aside and observe,
reflect,look back,not ahead..
sleep,less easy,in our bed.
Like a bagel with no hole
Like a flag without a pole
Like a singer with no soul
Like a furnace with no coal
Like a gangster with no moll
Like a quest without a goal
Like a bell that cannot toll
Like a super with no bowl
Like a yacht without a keel
Like a car without a wheel
Like a con without the spiel
Like a thief who cannot steal
Like a key that will not turn
Like a log that will not burn
Like a boss who isn’t stern
Like a skill you cannot learn
It’s a pen that leaves no mark
It’s a dog that cannot bark
It’s a silence in a lark
It’s the padlock at the park
It’s a great big open space
Like there’s nothing any place
It’s an ass in a horse race
It’s the blankness on my face
It’s the words I wish to write
That refuse to see the light
And I worry that my plight
Is because I’m not that bright
It’s the words unthought, unsaid
It’s a veil that can’t be shed
It’s the blackness in my head
It’s my muse…
I think she’s dead.
It was a woodcut in our high school history text, Unit 4 Beginnings of the
Modern World, that so disturbed,
from the Nuremburg Chronicles depicting the burning of the Jews, flat
perspective,
faces of the victims among flames, in no particular agony, not especially
Jewish,
during the Black Death 1/3 of Europe died 1347-1351 alone. Although
you die together you die alone.
Earlier that week, I had attended our 6th grade's performance of Fiddler on
the Roof, thinking
Coltrane should have recorded Matchmaker as a bookend to My
Favorite Things
but as the play darkened
with the town's absorption into the diaspora, democracy
yet unthought of and rule of law a fig leaf for authority
Jasper, who played Zero Mostel, delivered his line well to the effect
you're just doing your jobs while wrecking our lives.
Anyway, nothing like that is happening here, is it?
The gardener planting tomatoes, the gravedigger finding skulls,
there is so much life a little death won't matter.
Jasper
was a beautiful ham,
big as Zero.
A friend posed
this question: must all states be melting pots like the United States?
I said yes
not because they should but since
it's inevitable. Let labor flow like capital!
America was the last word of the play and brought a tear of pride to my
eye.
Immigration, exasperating argument re the Other.
How many's more than enough? 9 billion, a rational,
real number that exceeds or
we're convinced
is within the carrying capacity of the planet.
Climate change is the new Black Death.
I like the Amerindian body type and face mixed in with the European,
African.
The irrepressible economy rolls out reams of logs, ores of elements, bags
of ice, fields of rice.
Embargo. The moon stares, bare, full of interstellar space.
Better a cold shoulder than a visit from our military.
The crazy Nazis must have felt themselves extraordinarily compassionate
toward the mother, earth, the goddess, history, or some such
abstraction and, thus, acted on a fraction of all they did not know.
Selfless soldiers just doing their jobs guarding the border or,
on the other hand, collecting fagots for the burning of the Jews.
This isn't real, this feeling is slowly consuming me in ways unthought of for a humambeing.
He will not serve in my heart, no way, I rebuke and refuse to accept that fact of it being.
Go away and don't come back cause no one likes you.
You take life, left and right and have no remorse like you don't got a clue.
You took her from me, and I will never forget that, but little did you know I will see her again.
She will smile that beautiful smile at me once again and you will not be able to breath again.
You will suffocate in my success and glory,
God got my back like no other and we know we will prevail like a perfect story.
So hold on to your seat because it will be a short ride for you.
I will break free from this deseas you placed upon me, that depression will die, you just don't
Have a clue.
My demeanor, the aftermaths of recklessness
A child once, a man to soon
The glory to my name gone, the grace faded
Change do I offer no opposition to
Derogatory remarks, have I afforded restraint
A new cry heard; my steps subtle.
Your age, can I speak not of
Every moment, filled with more youth than the first
Memories created; gems remembered
Your hand in mine, a single entity we formed
For each other, were our lives
The joy spent, a cost to you.
A meeting of hearts, the night inspired
The ecstasy unspoken, but felt
Our naivety the error, unconsidered
An unthought conception, implanting itself
Impulse driving our passion, forth
Creators we became; the end I found.
Your figure lost, its voluptuousness
Atrocious had you seemed, to my young mind
The tips of your caress on my palm, offered no connection
Conditions to my love, a reality
Together could we be, never again
The burden was yours, my eyes were free.
To witness I chose, an obligation it was
The lights so bright, intensity I felt
Your tears and screams, nourishing life
The mistake shadowed, by bare beauty
My hands were gifted with purity; my luggage fallen
Reconciliation was to late, but my hands knew no release.
My depart planned, my destination unmoved
His gentle touch, redirecting my path
The regrets unknown, my chin's resemblance I admire
Your forgiveness, I do not desire
Mutual feelings, the base of our relations
A conditional love, the root of an unconditional one.
Once a burden, now a source of joy
The end of had I decided, devoid of reconciliation
His subtle cries, owning my love.
I heard so long before, crying from fields where blow
it 'round the lonely stones, hair-waving gentleness.
Were it a poison o, still I would ride its breeze,
trailing so finely forgetting resentfulness.
How can it worry, when ne’r does it lack its ease
Winding and binding the waters and highest cloud?
Oh that I could have run past those unbending trees,
For to return to the land were my thoughts ring loud
when the breeze takes me away from this bleakest light.
Unto the storm! I go unto its lighten’d shroud!
Perverted science, our earth, oh our earth in plight.
Need them we never shall, for we shall never leave.
Stormy winds blow past our necks, and the gods, they know
When ones like we have found what they could never show.
Me, oh for me, thus myself low, in mourning. Such
men blame themselves, their lost love from whence hope arose.
Hope, it depends only on wishes ne’r conceiv’d
past what primordial dreams that men hold so close.
Fantastic imag’ry, happiness here receiv’d,
tells himself that which he wishes so much to hear.
How can a man so himself cover, so deceiv’d?
How did he think that this love, unthought, would appear?
How can he walk down this rail-thin road while so blind?
Whether he wonder’d if living or not, its here!
Sailing across the sea, riding waves, felt so kind.
Parted his life when his glass house did shatter, and
there in the fields, he lie on his back, pain’d so much.
Where was his love? Could it have been in fleeting touch?
Cried out he did when his life shatter’d ‘fore his eyes.
He wanted never to look back with morose face,
Only look forward to future loves, of this kind.
Laughter and joyous voice, sounded in man’s cold race,
touch’d by the countless works of dissilusion’d mind,
art from adversity, love from the artist’s heart,
pain’d from eternal grief, mark’d by eternal grind,
in love’s name, his one wish, from whence his hope would part.
Realiz’d that his heart will never see love again,
Turn’d to in desp’rate resistance against his heart,
winds, rays, and waters, his void fill’d with life again,
Were it a poison o, still he would ride the breeze.
Love loses meaning, emotion, no more he cries,
Only the sun, the stars and dark, cool ev’ning skies.
ABCBCDCDEDEFAA
Dactyllic Alexandrine
Tissiack’s Tears
“[F]or I was absorbed in the great Tissiack [Half Dome]-- I have gazed on Tissiack a thousand times -- in days of solemn storms, and when her form shone divine with the jewelry of winter, or was veiled in living clouds; and I have heard her voice of winds, and snowy, tuneful waters when floods were falling; yet never did her soul reveal itself more impressively than now. John Muir
Tissiack’s tears fall from her rain-stained face,
her profile one with the lichened rock.
She, the spirit of the Ahwahneechees,
speaks silently, with the voice of winds,
and presence of time past and present.
For a summer, my tent opened to her
With flaps opened, I peered upon her,
Confident that I understood her words;
But I was just imperiousness youth,
And youth distracts from truth.
Years later, I return to her and sit
in the moonlight at Mirror Lake.
As my eyes tire and grow unfocused,
I see her missing half in the water –
her half that’s not, her mystic moiety.
She whispers of life’s unhalves, and in the
rippled, reflective waters appears,
my unhalf – those thoughts, unthought and
that life, unlived; whereupon, I too shed tears.
You re-house Machiavelli’s soul in your foul frame
That soul great guides your head and heart;
Not what you learnt from the kitabs
Beacon to you is Lucifer’s own light.
With verisimilitude unseen,
With finesse unthought of,
You pose as a Judhishtir.
But Dharmaputra, I know you
Engineer mischief meanest.
You are the mid-husband of
Old rustic plot,
Vile stinking villain
You know not- unhiegynically you rot.
Honeydew on the grass sparkles with life as the Sun comes up shining.
Way up yonder the Horizon’s preparing for its glorious arising.
Purple, blue and gray radiantly come together and all stand out alone,
Way up under this great big earthly dome.
Bird’s shadows fly at distances, yet each distinct by their flocks belted,
And each disappears away in colorful misty skies where all of them roam!
Beauty in foresight is clearly seen on this perfect unthought-of day,
Even to my own likings of a surprising.
Too compelling just knowing that all days are counted by,
Each exact group already individualized by being numbered!
Foliage secretes from its many branches of trees per several hundreds.
All with there own story to make known to the unknown.
Consistently re-budding as season’s change to each one that is now arising.
All seeming to prepare for that God-awful battle called Armageddon.
Years pass on and still the Sun comes onto the horizon.
Life’s at a standstill, yet, steadily ticking with the hands of time to carry on.
Nothing can be done to stop the cycle of our Earth’s creation.
For every beginning there is and ending as it is to see
Dawning is “The Sun on the Horizon”!
Be thankful that you have this very day,
For the Sun is rising upon the horizon,
What a wonderful liaison!
®Registered: Ann Rich 2001
The Moral of today is
Listening to the words
Of some other nightmare
Watching and waiting for the next cue
Understanding, and reaching
In and beyond the veil of the flesh
And ink on paper
Bringing in the ultimate sacrifice
Knowing that in the end
Its all about you
So it seems to cliche
And
A little to ironic
How someone you have never met
Could possibly know so much about you
Your life, your mind, your family
For the darkest of secrets
Often lie undisclosed and unresolve
But yet
Here it is and all you did
\as search a title
and load it
And in that title
In the name
In the body
You have found salvation
Just a little bit of it
And you know not how
Who or why
This became or will become
And where
Did it come from
Cause hidden in the mind
The things you never say
Someswhere along the lines
Thoughts became relative
And relatable,
In Regards they almost make sense
Almost seem logical
Almost appear normal
Almost become
As they lay out on the table
You cant help but to think
How they were pulled
Outside the vault
Of things you wont ever say
Dont ever want to think again
But they repeat
As if on an auto setting
And every time you hear it
You dissapear into the void
Of words unsaid
Things unthought
And It all starts over again
As
The Moral of today
A beep!! Message inbox queued
Bring around his sleepy-eyes
The night prowler came alive.
Last night’s morning sayonara smack
Later left with unrequited calls.
Message through network by amorist, said,
‘Hoped if u were here beside,
I wud have rest my arms upon u
N wud slp t8 until U wake me up
4m my woolgathering’.
A morning tea and breakfast
First lecture bunked and second lecturer’s incomplete task
Noon show lunch break and evening CCD on the way.
McD snacks together
Only left with dinner, back to home.
Clock ticked dinner time
Her cell beeped, ‘ honey calling you at midn8’.
FM on, light music quenched the dimmed room
A gentle breeze left with thoughtful blossom.
A miss call alert, so called a reminder –
Afresh mood and respond back
Two rings for that awaited hands to answer
A muted ‘Hello’, and both felt back.
Retrieved day dilation and few imaginary soul kisses in between
Blurred with further topic, exchanged dally romance
Yet sounded reality.
Eyes closed and more audible muted talks
Aleatory future plans,
Queried by an unthought-of waiting call.
A new topic now, ‘ who was it?’
Unknown number so whether is that to be left aside??
Tentative soul mate yet in a dedicated tone
Questions rained and situation falsified
Might be a secret that to be hide.
Coped modishly and eyes left with few drops of water
A penitent kiss followed.
Things now became thicker,
The soft music echoed through the network
Snap up pillow and twisted moves
Extend of imagination seemed
Fetched them more closely.
Awaken dad knocked
Cell phone averted and her hammy sleepy-eyes
Fooled begetter proved not to be a dictator.
Excused candidly and led off with next day’s plan
The good night dawn and jaded eyes
An argument who would cut the line…..
Lastly a fanciful tight hug and a sayonara kiss
Left again with another, beep!!
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