Finally, the options are revealed
The appeal is second to none
Tantalized by various speech patterns
Shocking, awful, and mistaken
Chills travel down the spine
Afraid of what's to come
At the behest of one's empathy
Words cut through obvious defenses
Crying to no one's delight
The weakness can no longer be withheld
Shaking uncontrollably, violating the hollow ground
Confidence is shattered into a million shards of dissonance
Never to be heard from again
You sound like a fingernail
dragged over a blackboard.
Every word cast as blackmail
from a forked tongue in cheek.
Bathed in the vile, bile of diatribe,
masticated to be flung as dung expelled.
Your snarled words reek with
the dissonant cadence of discordance.
As your eyes flicker
from side to side with lies,
you look away, unable
to face me, eye to eye,
unmasked,
unshielded,
nakedly exposed,
in tune tonality,
truthful.
Inside my head,
voices fight for dominance,
obstreperous thoughts clashing,
each demanding attention,
a symphony of dissonance,
a cacophony of self-doubt and dreams
I cannot silence them—
they scream louder than my own will.
I try to block them out
but they break through like waves,
uninvited and wild,
pushing and pulling
until I am caught
between who I am
and who they say I should be.
1. Hyde/Hide
¿Who is the one?
¿The one you call me?
¿What is this image?
¿That you say you see?
¿Wearing my visage?
¿And inside my skin?
¿The one in your lies?
¿That you choose to spin?
¿The one in your eyes?
¿Yet not inside mine?
¿That’s of your creation?
¿And inside your mind?
¿Of your imagination?
¿The one you call me?
¿Who is this person,
Who could they be?
2. Jekyll/Heckle
¡That’s not who I am!
¡No that is not me!
¡A pale imitation!
¡A false memory!
¡A failed recreation!
¡You made out of wire!
¡A mannequin in the nude!
¡You clothe with your desire!
¡Contrived and misconstrued!
¡You carve me with a knife!
¡Rearrange my features!
¡And redefine my life!
¡I’m not this strange creature!
¡The person you call me!
¡That’s not who I am
Or I’ll ever be!
Lost -
Through an Eagle's eye
Over Fields of plenty
Where rivers and creeks
Never run dry
But I can't feel it
Mountains rising up
Touching the pink, blue,
And rustic orange skies.
I just don't know why
… I just can't feel it
I am a lost page within the novel
No one knows my inner battles
Entering another day
Of constant trials and prattles
Lost –
Through the ears
Of a Great Horned Owl
Where life's creation falls silent
Scurrying about
But I can't feel it
Forests of trees where an
Acappella choir resounds
Magically starting the day
Reverberating all around.
I just can't feel it
And the sea sprites dance
To a rhythm of time
Reaching out to my soul
Touching my heart
Seeking to free and unbind…
I cry, for I can't feel it
No, I just can't feel it
For morning becomes noon
Noon becomes day
For everything has its place
With a time to work
And a time to play
I give up, for I can't feel it
I will never feel it
I look to the four corners
Seeking answers,
But the wind is motionless
And the world, unfeeling
For such are the plans
I never made
So I turn the page….
What am I doing? This
Isn't me. I'm watching myself
Commit the unthinkable in
The name of duty and
I hate it.
Everyone is heralding me
A hero
When I only feel like the villain
Who actually wins. This isn't
Me.
When they said 'protect and serve'
I never knew that came with
Hands stained red. I fail to see
The honor in taking the lives of others.
This isn't me.
How can I live with myself? I
Toss and turn as the ghosts
Of my misdeeds choke the life
I have left. This isn't me.
It can't be.
Harmony was missing in the breezy hills,
lonely paths were gleaning with fresh rain;
eagles owned the chilly, noiseless heavens:
stillness reigned over the barren terrain!
Then a slender boy sprung from the creek,
he carried his backpack bending his spine;
he skipped school to explore another peek:
the steep climb was mentioned in his zine!
Three days after spring broke its dissonance,
the finches and the geese began their flight;
bewildered Bob watched them in blazing light:
sprightly skies regained their magnificence!
Could another kid be happier than he would?
He whistled and hummed, each small discovery
was a joy and he paused to taste tranquility;
close to sunset, he headed back to his world!
Harmony was missing in the breezy hills,
lonely paths were gleaning with fresh rain;
eagles owned the chilly, noiseless heavens:
stillness reigned over the barren terrain!
Then a slender boy sprung from the creek,
he carried his backpack bending his spine;
he skipped school to explore another peek:
the steep climb was mentioned in his zine!
Three days after spring broke its dissonance,
the finches and the geese began their flight;
bewildered Bob watched them in blazing light:
sprightly skies regained their magnificence!
Could another kid be happier than he would?
He whistled and hummed, each small discovery
was a joy and he paused to taste tranquility;
close to sunset, he headed back to his world!
Dissonant guitar
and hiccups of angst
drip golden licks of Nirvana;
Scream, follow me down
for a time you know
that everything will be okay;
Because it isn’t;
Rage with an anthem,
clipped patchwork storm blew;
It grew as it moved inside us;
A lethal virus,
contagious it morphed;
Never easing, just kept spreading
taking on the world;
Strong new variant
much more infectious,
dissonance has no remission.
The moon is full tonight
Full of hope and full of love
Longingly I look up
To that gleaming ball above
The moon is full tonight
Full of awe and full of glee
While far below I stand here
Empty as can be.
1.Supari intimates because he can.
3.Supari is not scared of laws long hands.
4.Action is taken only against poor batterers.
5.Underworld Don fuukk garls on daily basis.
6.Judiciary absolves itself of the responsibility.
7.Apathetic and callous attitude of Police officers.
8.Police collude with Supari to cover his crime.
9.Victims try self immolation due to the threats.
10.DON Supari believes that he is superior.
11.Supari thinks that women are sax Objects.
12.Mafia Boss sees women as sax slaves.
Mind, the architect of life’s structure,
obeys what is learnt as the art of living.
Heart, the carrier of nonlinear abstract intellect,
breathes emotive truth in the framework of being.
If the diktat of mind is not pursued,
life is sucked into the whirlpool of chaos,
and not listening to the subtle urge of heart,
life turns into an unfulfilling objectified entity.
Intangible confrontation with either this or that,
designs the dubious dilemma of option,
for lack of equanimity valuing one over the other
causes the onset of neurotic inner conflict.
The foreseeable forks in life’s pathway tests
if judgment and wisdom falter in internal strife.
The rational balance of mind and heart
finds psychic route out of cognitive dissonance.
________________
August 18, 2022
Contest : Inner Conflict
Sponsored by : Unseeking Seeker
Yacking Yang
Left Brain
Seeks ego-health information Now
While Right Brain wealth
of green integrity
sees/hears
smells/tastes
feels/touches
ecosystemic bilaterally redundant experiences
ReMembered from multiculturing prehistory
up to Present Here
including Sacred Now
Witnessing
Yacking Yang
Left Brain
still seeking
ego-health care giving
and receiving ego/eco-balance
in green inside/outside silence
and red regenerative sounds
resounding EarthTribe's
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Earth Day and Night
revival.
I was told to write a poem,
but that's not how it works.
A poem has to write itself,
one cannot force the words..
This seems like contradiction,
but really it is not.
As when I began to think about it
the words came on the spot..
You can't make me write a poem,
it'll happen in its time.
Don't think that you've succeeded
at pulling out a rhyme.
Let me wipe off that expression
of smugness from your face.
This will never happen again,
poems have their time and place..
Poetry is not a given,
even with a muse.
Words have their own freedom
to happen as they choose.
So offer me a topic
for my next poetic verse.
And I'll show you once again
that no one forces words..
He stands so tall
He looks so fine
His clothes are pressed
He toes the line
He drives the road
In new Mercedes
Nearer Heaven yet than Hades
Some would kill to have his life
And he drives home to beat his wife
Appearances aside.
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