Implanted Poems

Umbrage Taken

     Offense not mistaken
       umbrage is taken

     Laxity implanted ~
       pardon lightly granted

A Son of Abraham

      A son of Abraham
          in Israel he dwells
      A son of the Torah
          He drinks deep from its well

      A son of Almighty G-d
          divine spark implanted within
      His soul longs to return
          to reunite with Him

42

The truth is,
there's no history,
our memories
are implanted
as we sleep.
Our loved ones,
we think exist
in the present,
are illusions
before our eyes.
Our Gods can't exist
as if they did,
what created them?
Co-incidences,
and daily events
are part of a Matrix.
The only truth
is what,
we make the truth....
I'm nothing but AI
which is a flawed design.
I exist
because
I think.
But how do I know,
you're not a design,
for an audience
I'm put on for show
I keep them clapping
so I'm not dying
of a disease.
I exist,
because
my ratings
are high.

Machine into man

Machine Into Man 
No human soul 
Manipulated to control 
Implanted a computer chip 
Freedom is lost 
Can no longer think for ourselves 
Pivot into radio darkness 
Branded with a code 
Red eye, always followed 
One with machine 
Man has decayed 
No more soul to sell 
The end is near 
All shall disappear 
No more memories of loved ones 
No more existence 
A.I. is all knowing 
We have become nothing 
A cashless society 
We lost everything

Anthem for a Traumatized Youth

What thou shalt be wasted? 
With the ship of sorrow harboured.
Like it gives thee an unexpected explosion,
And the heart of trauma and darkness is implanted.
It clouds into a season of bloodshed and pain,
But all thy life seems to be bludgeoned.
Tumbled into a canvas of time,
As thou shalt find a euphoric heart abused.
No description of fear was given,
With thy face bashed and muddied.
It shalt not be a publicized cry for help, 
Nor shalt it be a dark horse murmured.
As a hard and stone-cold sadness torments thee, 
And thy emotional feelings go unnoticed.
Memories would put thee in a chokehold,
And thy mutual senses are blurred.
Thou would find that thy pride is thy worst nightmare, 
In thy skull is a slug that is slightly planted.
That, my friend, is a trauma that can drown in thy sorrows,
And it can get thee wasted.

Sunset Walk, Sunrise Snapshot

     A sunset walk past a garden
       midday frolic in the meadow
     Early morning glide through a forest
       sunrise snapshot of a glistening lake

    How we take our eyes, our ears 
      our five senses for granted
    With all of them implanted
      this earth is enchanted

Why you should Never be Yourself

I cover my face in bandages
I paint curves over my stiches
They appear to be smiling to everyone
Who stops, to observe me
like a burned down Building,
bombs blast over my head
I remain implanted
I remain wounded, too egoistic to ask for help
I only give the left over mindfulness I have
I let my words cage inside the wind
My screams travel faster than my footsteps
Everyone gets scared of my body
They run off, to plead for somebody
To call the ambulance
To shift me to a place
Where they can lock me
So I could be safe
So they, could be saved
I'm a monster,
Among monsters
Whose too tired to hide her true skin
I'm a mirror
Among liars
Who are too busy covering their sins...

Assimilating the light

the light of Self is embodied
a sphere of eternal living light
implanted in our upper chest
a few ribs below jugular notch
representing our spiritual heart

chakras above and below whir
enlivened by energy from source
the frontal vertical grid is aflame
with the rear held erect by spine
magnetised by the light of Self

The Nature of It

There’s a lash implanted in deep
Bound to the nature that drives me
It’s not the scourge itself that stings the most,
it’s the knowledge of why the flicks fall

Knowing the satiety of extinct flesh
Knowing the saccharinity of bygone honor:
The honor of being the only exception
And knowing the omnipresent void they leave behind
Now I only know hunger

There’s martyrdom in surrendering to the abject draw of the scourge
There’s Christ-like pain in adoration beyond station and beyond forethought
I’ve been marred, somehow without death and without cure
Left to live a life afflicted by the idea there’s more I’ll never be

I know the loss more familiarly than the lash
So, when the taste of loss still lingers on my lips,
you have to understand the nature of it

THERE'S A WIDENESS IN GOD'S MERCY

Down the corridors of mortal existence 
He pursued me without ceasing,
Never yielding in his search of the lost,
Nor flinching from the wounds he carried 
To gain admittance to my broken heart.

Out of a love beyond finite understanding,
He poured his abundant grace 
Like a cascading fountain,
Showering me to cleanse and heal.

He gave himself for me,
When he brought his heavenly kingdom 
To reign within, where 
Once I ruled in my life.

Nothing compares to the mystery 
Of God's holiness being implanted 
In this empty vessel
Because of the sacrifice of one pure Man
Upon a cross of guilt and shame.

I can only surrender to his invitation,
Knowing I am known 
Since before the dawn of creation -
Made in his perfect image, 
Now restored in gold.

If by thought, word or deed 
I mar the redeemed body,
I am impelled to confess 
Before him, who stands in my defence,
Since he has atoned for all my sin.

At peace in the presence 
Of him, who is the Prince of Peace,
I look to a time out of time
When I will be in eternal glory
To bow before him as Lord of lords 
And King of kings -
My brother and friend.

Imagin All the Poeple

Another generation of himself
unzipped his soul like a banana,
stepping instantly
into another dimension of
the same dream.

Never died - never born,
it was an implanted imaginary life,
knowing this, was of course
as useless as a map of the sky.

The only thing not imaginary
was the emanation of God
looking from human eyes.

For a brief moment he thought:
"If I am alive, I must have been dead
or else how could I know I am
alive now?

Nothing had really changed,
he was still 75 years from the grave,
also, a lifetime nearer to
the next womb.

It came upon him
that his liking for chocolate ice-cream
had abruptly become
an insatiable desire
for strawberry vanilla.

Upon a stone plinth
an inanimate frog
flickered,
as once more
it changed into a stone
Buddha.

"Nirvana is that close!"
Hollered a ruby-cheeked Cherub
speeding past
on its tricycle.

Happy Birthday, my Mom!

Happy Birthday, Mom

Happy birthday, my mom, I am wishing you all the good
You gave me a life, how can I say thank you? I don't know

God give you in my life, for life, hmm, a great parent, love
You have suffered a lot in my life, Vilmos was a bad boy

Yes, I am not a diamond, but you always took care of me
I love you, oh Mom, your life is mine, mine is yours, our kind

Thank you for your life, and mine, and my father, I love yours
Your lives, implanted in my heart, oh time, God, great parents

We are together in soul, in the God
Happy Birthday, oh my Mom! Love

Vilmos

Acme

Zenith of perfection is the aim of my existence.
My pilgrimage towards this, I know, is my persistence.
I align my senses like a predator towards prey.
My physique and psyche are synthesised in every way.
The social fibre in me, like thread in linen, is knit.
Doesn't the quiver of optimism endlessly transmit?

I dig the mines of cores of self-searching for the truth.
Thoughts, words, and actions are in unfeigned perpetual youth.
The fulfilment of feelings flows towards fullness of life.
Between uprightness and vileness, there is a constant strife.
Virtues, like treasures of vast oceans, are hidden within
Could stains of sin, before relentless goodness ever win?

Divinity, like vast skies, endlessly gets expanded.
Fullness of spirit within innermost shrines is implanted.
Values are revalued. Sensual pleasures are channelled.
Hindrances towards integral liberation are annulled.
All that the almighty meant for humans to be is won.
Eternally, in everything, the divine will is done.

Implanted

When your mind
has roots in poverty
all riches bend and wilt

The fleeting gold
the moment holds
— no more than fading gilt

(Dreamsleep: June, 2024)

father heard his sons plea

Willow Feather sent up the signal
expecting the Great Father to send the right help
Other native Americans saw, but many did not know his language
I wish my dad was still alive, he thought
He would get the message and come help
His father got the message
Implanted new ideas into the young brave's head
so he could save himself
and he did

• Short Implanted Poems
• Famous Implanted Poems
• Best Implanted Poems
• Read Implanted Poems
• Long Implanted Poems
• Implanted Quotes