Insensate Poems | Examples

D Y S T O P I A

[Perhaps this is apart of my twisted delusions? Oh, mundane, antithetical, to dream of a median--a deranged, psychotic thought.]
[“I ponder the chains of order; perpetually asphyxiating a ‘disobedience’. Why, why we need of persecuting the good?”]
[Malice subsumes those who yet to temper, and sorrow enshrouds those refined. Crux, crux, I call to, whom ignore my solemn cries.]
[“A fate of malevolence albeit conduct--oh, love, abhor, equity seldom be attained.“]
[Is it merely viable?]
[“Or am I just simply insensate?”]
[Ah, break me free of the binding chains-- one of rectitude, the other loathe, as if there’s no point in between.]
[“Told of finding peace, tempted to defile, disequilibrium.”] 
[Why serenity remain beyond touch?]
[“Is it plausible to grasp?”]

A fate of dystopia.

San Francisco’s Soulmates

                                        
                San Francisco Soulmates


You discovered the ever-seeking soul in me!
Looking for truth, for all of mankind to see!
Unaccepting of all common, unquestioned beliefs.
Ignorant, educated dullards brought to me,absolutely no relief.


Late, late into the foggy evening’s very last twinkling, summer star, 
Plato and Aristotle, greedily we devoured, while riding on a cable car, 
And, although you now are insensate and in an impenetrable grave,
See my soul, my sweet, for truth, it rants and in my poetry, madly raves.
      

                         Tribute to my Late Husband
                         With Deepest Gratitude

                       Inspiration:” When You Are Old”
                             Great Author: W.B. YEATS

Sanctuary Of Silence

In clamor continuum
noise navigates
decibel waves 
beyond discernment
           numbed,
voice of frenzy
feels the caress 
of hushed calmness, 
halcyon sentiments 
           sink slow 
in solvent serenity  
unexpressed
in remote recess  
of mute mind,
fluidity swamps
sonic impulse
           insensate.

Corrosive cacophony  
finally ceases
           compelled,
the unsaid composes
sonata of silence
           echoed,
finds nascent niche
           tranquil,
strikes reticent concord 
           sensuous
in concerto cord
of harmony,
vivacious voice rises 
           serenades
lilting lyric
           unsung
in sanctum of silence.

Strident storm
spite spent,
stops consumed 
on catastrophe
            contrived,
sheathed placid
by stalled silence,
            spreads 
where it finds 
muffled manifestations
            smothered, 
beguiled spring breeze 
            incites
taciturn emotions, 
floral feeling
sprouts fragrance
in sanctuary of silence.

Swan Song

The hound has caught the hare;
the man, the fox
doves, long-flown.

Insensate fish float
on the surface of the lake
shimmering as the ripening rays
of dawn's early sun slide
effortlessly 
between the sinking morning mist
and the evaporation
of last eve's darkened frost.

In the misty distance
two swans, 
entwined necks locked
in imperishable embrace
savor
the calm, the warmth,
the rapturous silence.

All that is left.

Tolerant Unfeeling

In endless dark tunnel, 
winding incisive anguish
delves deep tireless through 
insensate sensual strata. 

Visual surface of being sheared 
to shards by excruciating trauma, 
sinks to benumbed depth 
of tolerant unfeeling... 
        
seamless stillness.

__________

January 16, 2023
For Brian Strand Contest No 1170

San Francisco Soulmates

                   
                        
                San Francisco Soulmates


You discovered the ever-seeking soul in me!
Looking for truth, for all of mankind to see!
Unaccepting of all common, unquestioned beliefs.
Ignorant, educated dullards brought to me,absolutely no relief.


Late, late into the foggy evening’s very last twinkling, summer star, 
Plato and Aristotle, greedily we devoured, while riding on a cable car, 
And, although you now are insensate and in an impenetrable grave,
See my soul, my sweet, for truth, it rants and in my poetry, madly raves.
       




                         Tribute to my Late Husband
                         With Deepest Gratitude


                                     11/4/2022

                       Inspiration:” When You Are Old”
                                 Author: W.B. YEATS

Beggar

Beggar, beggar
brazen beggar
Bluntly begging
for a buddy
Ain't that silly? 
Most ludicrous!
Beggar, beggar
bratty beggar
blatantly blathering
about her blunders
Ain't that shameful?
Most insensate!
Beggar, beggar
bouncy beggar
bragging boldly
about her bounty
Ain't that funny?
Most hilarious!
Beggar, beggar
blithe beggar
boastfully blagging
about her prattle
Ain't that stunning?
Most astounding!
Beggar, beggar
bumbling beggar
bemusedly begging
for heartbreak
Ain't that woeful?
Most ruthful!
Beggar, beggar
my dear beggar
please stop beseeching
the improbable
Why should you implore
the impossible
Just be be brave
and go bimble
far away 
from the shambles
But remember:
don't let you heart
beg your mind
for an answer
for my dear beggar
that's unworkable

The Breath of Om

Charcoal cloud clutches the marooned moon
The sky stifles behind the dark shroud
The nubile night breathes the music of breeze
Rippling in the sound of silence.

The ocean wreathes with surging surface waves
The water at cold depth is fathomless serene
Respires the breath of dense darkness
Flowing in the sound of silence.

The tapestry of life torn by torment
Searches deep within for the lattice of quietude
The smothered mind soaks the breath of solace
Drifting in the sound of silence.

The captivating cacophony of materialistic life
Suffocates the consciousness of the absolute being
The secluded soul is suffused with the breath of bliss
Wafting in the sound of silence.

In the endless journey of the insensate essence
Across the seamless landscape of the ultimate reality
As we be breathed, feel the breath of Om
Vibrating in the sound of silence.

(Om is the sound of sacred spiritual symbol in Hinduism, signifying the essence of the ultimate reality, consciousness, or Paramatman. (Wikipedia)

August 19, 2021
Contest : As We Be Breathed
Sponsor : Unseeking Seeker

Your Pull

Your Pull
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

You were like sunshine and rain—
begetting rainbows,
full of contradictions, like the intervals
between light and shadow.

That within you which I most opposed
drew me closer still,
as a magnet exerts its unyielding pull
on insensate steel.

Originally published by The Lyric

Keywords/Tags—Love, Magnet, Magnetism, Pull, Attraction, Opposites Attract, Desire, Lust, Crush, Electricity, Chemistry, Alchemy, Physics, Physical, Body, Lodestar, Compass, Needle, True North, North Star, Relationship, Relationships, Affinity, Compassion, Friendship, Engagement, Marriage

Crazed By Grief

Nighttime falls shrouded dark and spiritless,
Wavering fire a glaze dying cinder.
In grim silence tears ebb and flow aimless,
Lips quake angry filled breath growing dimmer.

Loneliness devours inch by inch loves amber,
Left raw to feel the flesh stretch. Brittle crust
Steady smoldering embers, numb anger,
Solace grieving soul filled volcanic dust.

It worsens with the tick-tock of the clock.
None can replace time, not a second in
A day hidden beneath insensate lock.
Days overwhelming calamities sin.

Loneliness niggles as the mind wanders
Bound by loves suffering also ponders.





1/14/2020

Regret :: Double Analogue

Why you call me tonight by that sweet name?
That name is very personal to me.
You've broken relation; you made me free.
Can't forget pain you gave, don't want to blame.
That phase of suffering was mine, great shame.
Those days' memory brings tears; seen your glee.
What my heart wished, it couldn't get, let it be.
'Twas reality, I was bound to accept.
Don't call me; I've stopped, for long I did wept.

You remained selfish, didn't think for my fame
I will remain with my fate; I can't be
contented, memories won't make me free.
Showing love to me was only a game
for you, but believed it true; I'm not same
person. I'll not be bothered with your plea.
Realized illusions; life has taught me.
Can't forget, your insensate acts did threat
Enough is enough, don't want to regret.
~x~x~

Emptiness

I am full
Of emptiness
I long for longing
Crave contentment

The insensate pain
Of intangible touch
Indecipherable ciphers
Choreographed madness

Craggy comfort
Of blunt condolence
The decorum of anarchy
Deserted crowds, social solitude
Miles given to intercept steps

At the dawn of abundance
I see only
bones of ghosts 
Whose meager admonishment
I forgot to unlearn

Unredeemed
And unrepentant
I am in love
With loneliness.

9/20/19

In Animation

A wooden pencil's made of lead
   A pen is filled with ink
These two insensate objects
   Spur my brain to think

Bits and Pieces

Bits and pieces of your heart and soul
bits and pieces, fillet and sautéed
for the sad amusement of cruel men with mindless erections
Who snicker and grin
as they lay you down on a bed of nails
Naked and anesthetized
for the purpose of insensate insemination
s and feces, from hearts without soul
s and feces, from cruel little boys, masquerading as men,
with pointless erections, who grimace and sin, 
As they fornicate and fail
Naked and cautertized from the meaning of erotic sensations
And that is: sweet tender love and kindness
approximating Divineness
Which the sad woman is so longing for
and the little boy is running from

Swift Arthur

King Arthur had a lightning rod. Guinevere found him trying.
His vassals though profoundly odd were far more satisfying.
In martial arts he did excel. At other trades his plying
Could never suit his ego well -- one often found him sighing.

Whenever he returned from war, he was the day's sensation;
But evening found him sad and sore, insensate to persuasion.
Sometimes he tried, and tried his best, to rise to the occasion,
But instanter fell back to rest. His queen must feign elation.

The thing that made it all so strange, he thought himself a charmer.
The king, it seems, a bit deranged, was fearful he might harm her.
She tried to be a faithful wife, avoiding page and farmer;
But Arthur would not, on his life, ever remove his armor.







"Swift Arthur" appeared previously in Fantasy & Terror 9, 1986. It will be collected for the first time in my forthcoming collection The Ocean's Tryst and Other Metrical Tales of Heroic Fantasy.

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