Long Cognitive Poems
Long Cognitive Poems. Below are the most popular long Cognitive by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cognitive poems by poem length and keyword.
Today in an unusual way
Something is amiss
After a brief strong morning headache.
My wife, donning her internet nurse hat
Asking a google search doctor,
Opines it might be a ‘mild cognitive impairment’
(aka getting old but not yet demented).
But in the moment, which seems to be resetting
Again and again, it doesn’t seem so mild!
A stroke of genius, or luck, or just
A good old brain aneurism is hard to know,
But everything seems fresh and unfamiliar
And the handful of poems I’ve written in the past week
Appear utterly unfamiliar
As if somehow secreted onto my computer
By a prankster bot
Or written by an imposter
Who somehow got control of my body-mind
But then got evicted this morning.
At first I think I’m reading someone else’s words,
Or maybe something vaguely familiar
But miss-dated and really from a year ago.
My wife, the instant internet nurse practitioner,
Runs me through physical and mental tests
Before giving me her unprofessional okay,
Which just leaves me even more baffled
As I laugh as each moment,
While tracking the last,
Appears fresh, unique and distinct-ly now.
But with the worldwide web at her finger tips
She gives me the thumbs up
Which I guess is as reassuring as can be
Without an MRI,
Something we don’t yet have an app for.
But despite all this medical jargon
The image that actually comes to mind
Is a crack in the cosmic egg.
The question then being
Will a runny yolk emerge
Or a bright eyed little wet chick,
Maybe even a Garuda?
I’m hoping for the fledgling Garuda
But I guess only time will tell.
The present moment on the other hand
Just keeps her secrets.
My wife tries one last reassurance,
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
You’re always like this
Being the implication.
Personally, I’m not ruling out the MRI…
(10/20/25)
At 70 I can no longer fly under the radar,
And now my family has started making plans for me,
That decides how the 70-year-old me,
Should spend any time left to me,
That they see as uncontestably for me.
Never mind the health of me,
With a heart that came through chemotherapy with me
Lungs that can walk in the fog with me,
Knees that can still move around the joint with me,
A back that works like a crane for me,
No glasses on the picture of me,
That adorns the drivers’ license that belongs to me.
Never mind the fitness of me,
Never mind they just saw me stand one leg to put my own sock on me,
Never mind I just mowed their lawns and then my own,
With only the sweat expected from a 40-year-old me.
Never mind the cognitive response left in me,
Or that 3 dementia tests have not failed me,
With the last in 2024 with a comment from the doctor to me,
That I did very well for a 70-year-old me.
But really gets to me,
Is that there are others in their 40's
Who look and act older than me,
Who fly under the radar that pings me,
As long as they can remember their age compared to me.
Of course they may well die under the radar younger than me.
Which makes me glad to be me,
Even when I have to pay a fee to prove I am still me,
Just because of the age of me.
Tim is a thinker and operates within the logic of his brain
Reasonable thoughts solutions imperative webs rule
and divide analyses paradigms and guidance from hell
He googles and ogles centrifugal dispersion displayed
on the smoke screen of distracting internet searches
A seeker he is however the computer can think but not feel
He had encountered Dialectical Behaviour Therapy
with the message of emotions complementing his
cognitive certainties meant to assemble the wise mind
Zen it must be then but even the information highway
takes him to Zen Mate a platform for hyperspace security
He can’t even delete it once installed hook line and sinker
Zen Zero Engagement with Nonsense obfuscates imminent truth
looms large as he decides to simply be under a luscious fig tree
An orange loin cloth covers his modesty as he attempts humility
Yet meditation still takes him far away from Gautama Siddhartha
to associations of Gauntanamo Bay Cuba and Alejandro Fidel Castro
but what has Tao got to do with it anyway what about Mao Zedong
Tim’s soul drifts away from internal Peace he is not yet cut out
for relaxation and confuses and corrupts to settle in Nirvana
His begging bowl calls for saffron delight without caviar’s caveats
Descartes shouts 'Carpe Diem' Marx wants knowledge with action
Nietzsche implies Zarathustra but golden ‘zarat’ remains fool’s gold
and ‘ushtra’ the camel does not fit through the third inner eye
Why cannot simplicity be more simple when the here and now
drifts away towards where and when as Tim tries to capture
letting go and let God while enlightenment is clothed in darkness
Tim’s Nike trainers suggest he can do it and Greek philosophy
reminds him ‘Hic Rhodos Hic Salta’ to jump here and not anywhere
else but leaps and bounds refuse to reach outcome detachment
One day he dreams that he might reach what is so close but obscured
for now sandalwood fragrances incense his inabilities to achieve
the essential meaning of life without target driven performance
vi. etching, detailing (ala fresco),
vii. plus trimming living room ceiling,
viii. shingling (while fiddling) on the roof,
ix. tiling the kitchen floor,
x. building a cistern for brethren,
xi. wood paneling many rooms,
xii. building custom made toy chest,
xiii. stringing up lights to increase visibility
driveway lit like Christmas tree after dark,
xiv. partly assembled a kayak,
xv. retooling - enhancing porch
(formerly slate covered),
where Morris dancers performed
at wedding for eldest sister.
xvi. Helping, née completing
homework/school assignments.
Unlike him who did beget me
I experienced cognitive challenges
that beset one painfully shy
and severely introverted male
more to the point
as a lad and mediocre student to boot
promotion to next highest grade
occurred just by the skin of my teeth,
which may help to explain
why I wear dentures,
oh... these choppers worn for about
one sixth of mein kampf livingsocial.
A sense of inadequacy prevailed,
when absolute zero self esteem
strikingly and suddenly manifested
in tandem when parents moved
their young tender family within
Lower Providence School District,
but into a larger house
(initial summer estate constituted
about one hundred acres of woodland -
named Glen Elm
think Winnie the Pooh -
house at Pooh corner -).
Not quite two score plus ten years
spent livingsocial at 324 Level Road
(above mentioned abode alluded),
and twas there majority
mine existential highs and lows,
where nadir of mein kampf transpired,
I emotionally hit rock bottom
upon onset of prepubescence
yet major event triggering
mine major depression
set in motion,
when parents chose February 28th, 1968
to move out of shoddily constructed domicile
located on Lantern Lane.
'Tis off to the races now that homeschooling has ended.
One half earns for their subsistency,
other half learns about delinquency.
Be they friends and their best efforts were suspended.
Tale spring muses as the anticipant's
appraised specifies traditional hopes
load stages standard addictive transplants
secured cognitive lodestar prolonged copes.
Missteps venture the wide-eyed sneeze, and runny nose
a caption reads, "This be the Time.", gone are
the reporting authors, counting those
to acknowledge them, minus their star.
Bloom's wilt and hues fade know not the hour caused,
advents trending acquisitions neglect closure
but fail to end the brotherhood of friends exposure.
halls went silent the schoolyard empty, turned men paused.
I’ve inherited contradictions - which could be genetic, original-personal failings, or the result of family dynamics - those are like the background radiation left by the big bang.
If you’re in school long enough, you take a lot of psychology tests. In my psychological makeup, a drippy sentimentality uncomfortably coexists with a cat-like indifference. This is probably my French cultural inheritance - is it too late to add that factor?
The seedbed of my current cognitive dissonance is time - I don’t have a lot of time for other people’s issues. Please accept these earnest, unfiltered insights - even if they are laced with caffeine.
I finally got some graded papers back - I wondered if they were shredding or recycling them. I did ok. It was an electrifying moment in an otherwise indifferent week.
Let’s wax somewhat poetically…
I’m loving the Université.
The architectural spaces,
the concertante ways people
move through functional areas
and the layers of differing sounds
- the heard-like, instinctive responses
to the triggering abstractions of universal signage
- going up or down, yes, no, stop, go -
that send us in well-practis'd directions.
I find the colour and movement,
the fashion mix of high and low cultures
lush and satisfying but you can never get
a cup of coffee large enough.
enough of THAT.
I’m not a poet at all. You’ve heard of method actors? Well, I’m a method writer. I fully inhabit my one and only character who, in turns, charms, repels, embarrases and delights me - just like everyone else in my life.
Would you buy defining yourself, in little vignettes, as an audacious act?
I write ‘flash fiction,’ I’m told, because it presents only one person’s perspective - but I do it with forensic precision - and present it all with the narrative negligence that defines my work - it’s art, people - on a time budget.
.
.
Songs for this:
new friends by flowerovlove [E]
Tokyo Lift (5am) by Cautious Clay
I Should Be Home by Balu Brigada
A mind,
I think,
should be a brain
still in a living organic body
in homeostatic cooperative relationship.
A human mind
could become mid-sized, just right,
and left,
not too hot, not too cold,
not too light, not too dark and heavy,
yet sometimes too complexly dense with chaos theories
rather than synergetic creolizing hypotheses
favoring thermodynamically ego/eco-balancing biosystems,
relying on double-binding feedback loops
of endosymbiotic cooperativity
within ectosymbiotic acclimations
without
Maintaining polypathic health
of multiculturing interreligious relationship,
dipolar interdependence
slowly synergizing wealth of further enculturations
into even more polypathic bicameral balance.
A mid-sized just-right humane ecosystem
is a horrible potential to waste
to too-closed off entropic loss
of regenerative life energy,
dissipating off into cognitive v affective dissonance,
both verbal and non-verbal dissolution,
near death without open-systemic maturing time.
Aging is post-revolutionary degenerative maturation,
quieting grace.
Suicide and depression,
repression and ecopolitical suppressions
are pre-revolutionary,
before their regenerate maturing fullness
of fertile time.
A mind
is a brain
within a fertile
well-timed
pre- and post-revolutionary
sacred acclimating body.
We scooted back to Paris last week,
to the sweltering capital of romance,
where I took a series of employment tests,
in bright rooms where they timed my answers.
Let’s see, there was: a two day, two part
“statistics and aptitude test,”
a set of “analytical, quantitative screenings,”
a personality inventory, two cognitive ability tests,
a leadership judgment exercise and three, blind
structured interviews where they didn’t know who I am.
(that my Grandmère owns the entire circus.)
THOSE were fun.
There’s nothing like the humiliating theatricality of being
asked to summarize yourself in a job interview.
I’ll let the embarrassment speak for itself.
Don’t shed any tears for me - I’ve spent my entire life
being assessed, by teachers, family, strangers in bars
- as have you.
But it was the first time I’ve ever become entangled
in the machinery of respectable work and tried to look employable.
I think modern evaluation is half judgment, half performance art.
YOU know I’m a mess, I mean, you read me - but what do they know?
They never directly asked whether I’m sane, but I think
they wanted to know if I could sound sane in a boardroom.
I’m going to work for my Grandmère.
Part time, because I’m still going to be at university.
“Why do I have to take these tests,” I whined,
“aren’t I a nepo-baby - don’t I have *rights*??!!
“Anyone who’s being hired into management,
by any decent company has to take these tests,”
she assured me, as if explaining something to a dog.
Adding, “You SEEM reasonably intelligent, but I could be biased.”
“I should hope so,” I mumbled, pouting like a 5-year-old.
I won’t lie, there was some emotional pressure in all of this.
I mean, I DO deserve all of my advantages, don’t I?
If I was going to do this, I genuinely needed to be taken seriously.
It appears that I’ll be joining the bureaucratic meritocracy,
in September.
.
.
A song for this:
Triangular Girl by Pearl & The Oysters
Again, with Adam Robersmith,
Taking It Further emphasizing cooperative value choices
in each compassionate win/win moment
of sacred economic/ecological dialogue,
covenants of non-violent respect for multigenerational
healthy
wealthy
robust
resonant
resilient outcomes.
What compassionately discerning choices
can we make today
tonight
tomorrow
the next day
next week
next month
next season
next year of seasons
for restoring environmental
and cooperative economic
and multiculturally healing justice?
Rather than punishing ourselves
and others
for violent win/lose past
privileged injustice
rooted in fear
anger
suffering
loss
dissociation,
climates of internal monoculturing ego-anxiety.
In sacred covenants we have already engaged,
what healthy choices for extended family resilience
do we already support
with win/win cooperative environmental gratitude
and multiculturally interdependent
win/win
health/wealth,
bicameral
bilateral
binomial left/right
20/20 empowering EarthJustice?
Let us refuse to remain stuck
in Ego-LeftBrain v. Eco-RightBrain fear
climate anxiety
cognitive/affective dissonance,
systemic dispassionate despair,
Instead choosing one universal
regeneratively catholic win/win
health faithful multi-regenerational action
in every compassionate moment.
Let us remember
our Universalist/Catholic
Earth-multicultural heritage
and engage inherited BiLaudato Si wisdom,
On BiCameral Care for Our Common Creation,
To chart restoring a just,
globally holy holonic,
and sacredly resilient path
compassionately communioned forward
With other Thames River Valley goodfaith communities
Hearing Youth Voices
for FRESH-New London County
indigenous and immigrant and emigrant
elite and non-elite
non-violent listening
To invite this day's cooperative stewardship
facilitation
mediation
communication of Land
and Water
and Health
and Energy
and All Sainted Souls
democratic EarthTrust.
Through this Mountain of PeaceSpace
flows a 20/20 BiCameral River
of polypathic healing EarthTime,
Here as also Now,
Safe as also Sufficient,
Peace as also JustUs,
NonViolence as also Earth's ComPassion.
fears, desires, sensations, thoughts
they rise and fall in our consciousness
it is a delightful play of aliveness in duality
embraced, imbibed, assimilated and released
from the centreless fulcrum of cognitive empowerment
soul presence witnesses this enactment in linear time
fully present, engaged, vibrant and yet nonchalant
beholding how the dream being manifest unfolds
the unifying substance of life is love sublime
all else that appears and disappears, a mirage
Divine Mother’s bliss caress within the only reality
gently transforming organic mind-body as living light
26-December-2022