Long Absurdity Poems
Long Absurdity Poems. Below are the most popular long Absurdity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Absurdity poems by poem length and keyword.
I never voted, anyhow supported, never trusted
Those who rule now
Yet I am claimed responsible
Over the deeds of people I never trusted
And my name is not Josef K.
In the light of the absurdity of what’s happening,
The catastrophe of the rational and the triumphs of the irrational
I have a humble request
To masterminds that manage
The great impersonal AI
Keep the dystopian novels away from it.
For if you let the AI read those books
It can use them as direct instructions
To set the fairiest society on earth
Exactly like you’re doing now
Without AI support, all by yourselves
But with the help of AI
The multiplication of entities will increase,
and Occam's Razor will be a network of hairdressers.
Reduction to the absurd will be norm
Argumentum ad hominem will be considered as the proof of decency
As it actually happens now, but a written law will state it.
City of the Sun will replace the Bible.
There will be no more art, for art will be deemed as a loophole
For those who shirk control over the control of those who control.
The list of forbidden thoughts will be updated daily.
It is my duty to warn.
The rest is entirely at your disposal.
Thank you.
In a corner of my mind, where time flows like a river of lost memories,
the idea of a bizarre universe is born, where souls wander through a forest of shadows,
a collective dance of minds covered in the ashes of unfinished dreams,
under the gleam of the moon, like a beacon of endless sadness, a world estranged from itself.
There is enough betrayal, hate, violence, absurdity in the common human being,
to fuel any army on any given day, more than the sky could cry,
and those best at killing are precisely the ones who preach against it,
the best at hating are exactly those who preach love,
and the ones best at war, in the end, are those who preach peace,
a circular chaos in the trivial game of existence.
Those who preach divinity, in their soul, have a divided void,
those who speak of peace have no restful sleep,
those shouting about love, nail hearts of stone.
Shielded be the ears from preachers,
shielded be the souls from those who claim to know,
shielded be the books from those who read them only for pride,
shielded be the streets from those who hate poverty but brandish the dagger of wealth.
Each of them, players in a silent theater, seek applause for themselves,
with censorship in hand, living in fear of the unknown,
always seeking crowds, for their emptiness terrifies them,
and the average man, the average woman, their love too, born and dies,
in a perpetual search for mediocrity, an endless vortex.
Yet the true genius of their hate shines like an evil diamond,
a magic of contempt capable of killing any pure soul,
not understanding loneliness, they will extinguish any different light,
lacking the ability to create art, they will despise it,
considering their failure as the failure of the entire universe.
And despite them, love will never be complete,
they will blaspheme your love, perfect in its weakness,
they will hate with an almost religious passion,
like a tiger tearing through the forest's shadow under the moonlight,
and their hate will be like a cold diamond, as sharp as a knife,
like an eternally frozen mountain, like a glass of hemlock.
It is, in the end, their finest art—
pure and dangerous,
gleaming in the darkness of a night
that knows no dawn.
I’ve understood
This annoying lover lockdown won't let me leave free anymore
No, I don't know anything divine; no oracle I have
But I have to say goodbye to the lover of a joke called lockdown
From tomorrow I will go out in love
with my familiar city lanes, roads, ports, junction areas
I’ve learned from this quarantine life
The more love for lockdown in this world, the more infections and deaths
I don't want to learn this type love of life sitting at home anymore
Fifty days of quarantine has taught me ridiculous information
Maybe according to hypocritical international imperialist god revelation
BBC, CNN, Al Jazeera and local ATN Bangla News forecast absurdity about nCov-19
Everyone is serving the news
Got it, the presence of nCov-19 is more in the lover lockdown area
to increase farcical number of infections and deaths
No, not I am anymore in this closed room
Tomorrow I will say goodbye to this useless courier of death
For many days I did not open my mind’s wings to see the surroundings of my city
Gram, Singara, Peyaju, Samusha of Baddar Jhal Bitan have not been eaten for a long time
have not been eaten for a long time the Bangle banana with bread and parched rice standing in Khuilla's Cooling Corner
Didn't drink the milk creamy tear of Alamgir under the banyan tree in front of Agrabad Ethnic Museum for a long time
Shoes have not been polished in Shimul cobbler shop for a long time
Smoking cigarettes have not been paid taka for a long time to Kuduissa, Shallo, Tinku, Raima, Zarina and other unnamed children born on the streets of Agrabad Badamtali
(I certainly can tell this amusing virus couldn’t infect and kill any of them)
did not talk about cloth business with Osman and Munni Apu in Chawkbazar Golzar Tower for a long time
There was no amorous and playful discussion with friend Adv. Habib and Adv. with Johnny for a long time
I hope I will do all these habitually from tomorrow
I know, although I won’t go from Muradpur to Agrabad hanging like monkey by the 10th no. bus
Yet, from tomorrow I shall say goodbye to this wacky lover lockdown
14.05.2020 (Chattogram City)
Blooms that I see today fade the next day.
Green leaves turn yellow. They dwindle and fall.
Fruits that are ripe fruitlessly find decay.
Nature stands alert to an unknown call.
The flora and fauna feel paranoid.
Curiously, creatures here cogitate.
By expirations, nature is annoyed.
Every being confronts the games of fate.
I search for the sense of my existence.
What's the purpose of my life here on earth?
Against aches, I've my innate resistance.
Will there be, after this life, a rebirth?
Where, when all is said and done, will I go?
Like dried leaves, with the wind, will my soul flow?
Stop peeping through my window.
I am not, herein, on any snooze show.
You frighten me with pin-pierce-like aches.
In my dreams, you send snakes.
I am frightened of my irreversibility.
Isn't evil's mischievous causality?
I sleep and wake with thanatophobia.
Knell is heard in my ears, not Gloria.
The world seems strange to me.
My well-wishers say I'll be soon free.
Is freedom regressing within myself?
Do I need, anymore, jewels on my shelf?
I remain shocked, often, and numb.
Unconsciously, I calculate my existential sum.
Anguish and anger brew in me.
I see void, vacuum, and absurdity.
Where has my creed gone?
Why is there dryness in the marrow of my bone?
I bear everything, whether great or small.
Trusting in an eternal life towards which I crawl…
Personal Ad -Advertisement-Article- (In need of something a little bit different)
I'm looking for a female with a personality other than herself
Someone different from me. Tranquilized, homogenized and light
Traumatized by clowns and cotton candy
This individual should be alive at the time of this printing
You must come with instructions and triple A batteries
A turn off valve and buttons that say "off" are essential
This candidate needs a mouth, a nose and an eye
At least one, two would be preferable, three would be scary
Four would be excessive. Five would be ridiculous.
I pay by the hour not by the eye
A head and ears are optional
Weight and height are your choice
The perfect candidate should be clearly invisible
Not hatched from an egg or manufactured in a mold
Make-up is required. There is no such thing as too much.
You must have good grades in math and take baths
You will be required to do my taxes and make sandwiches
I will pay you for your services with salted crackers
I am looking for a purely platonic relationship
One that has no strings attached
Marionettes need not apply.
If you own pliers you can be my dentist
A person with low to no self esteem is perfect
I expect to hear from you but only if you speak
Once I get a phone, a shelter and my memory back
With a copy of my completed income tax
You will be considered a person of interest
And not much more.... Unless you do windows
Then we can explore
There's an assumption that torment
was invented by Dante for his Inferno,
it's actually a kind of obsession that
we ourselves battle with like Othello!
Some of us show it in laughter, others
in anger: which one do you act upon?
I like the ones who jump up and down,
thinking they are performing clowns!
Torment is also the need to get one's attention,
how frustrating it is when all fails expectation!
It's another form of calamity worsening things...
and spinning in a whirlwind, we break in tears!
Another form of torment was my relentless envy
towards others wealthier than me, but not happy;
and not being rich, I couldn't brag about anything...
even luck deserted me, my world was collapsing!
I've stopped tormenting myself about my material needs
by obliterating insanity, apologizing and making amends;
I saw a diverse image of myself in a mirror of stark reality,
realizing that fate didn't depend on stars, it was absurdity!
Not conscious of infinities blast Big Bang into reality our matter hurled
The Moira in our ancient past held us captive in this world
The blessings are the curses in every man’s situation
A profound secret and mystery to one another—the human condition
The secret suffering souls demand such solemn serious speculation
Yet the absurdity of LIFE in all its levity and evanescence calls for circumspection…
We create the stories and gods in hopes
And we assign such meaning to everything: stars, numbers, tea-leaves, and dates…
We create stories and gods to fill the voids find star- crossed loves and faith in the fates
In all the randomness—the beautiful randomness
We live, we love, we kiss, and we miss the beauty of chance
Kierkegaard a product of his time
his philosophical bent in line
had yet to be—to see—the reality—
of Camu or Sartre in thoughts evolution
one solution to counter mother Nature’s hostility or indifference,
We wield power over her mock her, scorn her, show her!
I am not the powerless weak little creature born to die at your whim—
No sin to go—my existence I control.
But halt! Oh! our Jungian collective-consciousness in the present soon awakens swooned by modern bards, agnostics and atheists even religious faith shaken
A light! A light! A revelation!
Because that which is unseen we know to exist
The unknown exists and because we don’t know it's purpose.. perhaps there is perhaps there is not one,
The horizon we see with our eyes does not exist in reality Physics concrete Science save us…
Our eyes set to betray us…
All this unknown doesn't mean we can't embrace the chaos
And we assign such meaning to everything: stars, numbers, tea-leaves, and dates…
Yet it all does exist with a beauty more lovely than any of Shakespeare's fates...
The nature's smell of Sodom
Parades war scent;
Smells it like Saddam's nose
To safeguard his own darling kingdom
How watching designs ascent
To save millions from foes
Which makes room for continuing lust
And finds it difficult afterwards to adjust
Even when no war seems around the corner
Yet they fear and doubt every foreigner
Iraq is to war what Sodom is to transgression
Yet He's full of mercy in anger cum genuine confession
To them sins kill boredom
The only happiness florescent
Which measure up her woes
Open destruction bestows
Warnings for fire to save autumn
Before timing bomb explodes without consent
The esthesis of Gomorrah
Lives in the deep Dead sea
To win the game away karma
How much plead will erase guilty?
When hearts feel cool hosting pleasure
How fear parades fate without check
Gearing up with joy for whatever becomes her Camorra
But with gut, the degree of the wrath eyes don't see
Except for the amusement audience did see in drama
What reasoning could have tagged absurdity
Is of high rate for worth as high as of treasure
So heavy; the one her ship can't stand cum wreck
To them wickedness strengthen ego
Her contest among dominant men
Forgiveness being enslaved in terror
Of endless quest trying times won't forego
Or bring to justice and be put into den
To face its own end in lonely terror
You sneeze; loud rowdy thunder strikes
Sins are irritants Your nose dislikes
Yet man's expulsion is involuntarily
For Your anger strikes temporarily
How come they don't see compassion
That brought on them such wrath; their eyes passion
Smell out
Turn about
You know me
Nothing surprise Thee
For nothing is hidden
Those that are forbidden
By Your commandments off caution
Which have done without precaution
Oh grow-up nose mask; smell not
For my sins are so hot
That You won't inhale such dirts periodically
Let alone You get to exhale spasmodically
Meaningless Numbers
The worst numbers are those with rough edges
Perversions of nature not smooth or level
With odd forms and shapes
Having them around insults circles
And the innocent curved numbered ones
Meaningless, are the digits not used
If there is more than one, figures get confused
Line them up with math and logic
Hold them against the wall with clues
Find some matches, loose and dry
Place a bomb, lit fuse, beside them
They will not move or tell the truth
They won’t go screaming into the night
They mimic all other numbers to make them numb
Not alive, not to imply they are dead
They are to be hated for that
And when the remainder remains the same
You can count on them for nothing
Their impertinence explains it all
Meaningless numbers are everywhere
Shameless, as even the old ones look the same
I don’t know their names and can’t explain absurdity
When shopping I have to take a number and wait
A cause and effect that escapes me and reason