Long Cynicism Poems
Long Cynicism Poems. Below are the most popular long Cynicism by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cynicism poems by poem length and keyword.
No matter how far we travel into the universe
No matter how many worlds we conquer
Or marvelous civilizations we encounter
No matter how many creatures we dissect
How far into the past we probe
No matter how many words we write, or read
There is always one step further; one more word to pen
One more iota of information to uncover.
Our storehouses of knowledge
Do not help us survive
Though we hope they will;
For we must believe we will continue.
It all depends upon
One more grain of knowledge
A puzzle with the answer we all desire
Then will we be forever.
Not as a race entire,
Not through works of art
Not from words of wisdom,
Conquest or slaughter,
But the egoistic Self,
The person, the arrogant mind;
What matters if there is or is not a god?
The query is merely: Will I be forever.
That there is life beyond life
Is the dream, the hope,
Of blind misbegotten certainty.
Are we not like a drop of water
That quenched a thirst for knowledge
Then evaporated, but still exists?
Please do not suppose "We are not."
When no more doubt remains
Then shall humanity crumple
And fade from the universe
No longer possessed
Of the undivine quest
No longer needing to persist in this land
When another, we insist, so surely waits.
For now, the starships search outer realms
The pen transcribes the mind
While seldom do we stop to reflect how
If ever the destination is at hand
We will have lost all purpose.
c1973
An earnest poem from my youth, tossed in a file box and stored away lo these many decades.
On reflection what do I see?
In contrast to a younger me
do I spy cynicism in my little eye;
perhaps some regret for what could be?
On reflection what have I done?
The path I trod has led me here;
I am in this place, in this moment.
Experienced, yet each day new -
the space, the mood, each cloud formation
an innovation of fresh invention;
every dawn a rebirth; each familiar
familiarity has a contemporary hue.
The rejuvenation of night casting new light;
cleansing, healing each rueful thought.
Awakening in redemption, and grasping new
opportunity left - like a Christmas sack,
bursting with gifts, at the foot of the bed.
So as I tut and shake my head
for what could have been,
I only see what is, and all I have.
No time for reflection or regret,
I seize the day 'Carpe Diem' I say,
collect my sack of new beginnings,
and on my way. Yes, 'Carpe Diem' I say.
I'm not sure what Freud's Pleasure Principle is all about,
or was about Health and Safety;
Whether it's in
or out,
Whether hedonistic
and narcissistic
or the mundane
secular
capitalist
corporate product
of efficient sexual therapy
and heartless entertainments.
Whether the Principle is applicable
only to secular masters
for optimal "sacred rights" experience
Or also accessible to sacred slaves
as our secularized vocation
to provide for our nasty property owners,
Whether it is the primary purpose
of capitalism's efficient,
if ruthlessly competitive,
corporate monocultural deformation
into post-climax apathy
and cynicism
and cruel and unusual punishments,
Yet, somehow,
as I merge into this stream
of organic fossils
still miraculously refueling,
I am sure this Pleasure Principle,
Beacon of Health and Safety Bliss,
Paradise Pursuit
Could only be entered
by those wise enough to recognize
it is cooperatively
globally
multiculturally owned,
managed interfaith communion,
interdependently experienced
and multiplied
Into raptures
of organic/cosmic
internal/external climates
of and for personal
political
economic
ecological
theological
neurological win/win Climax
Of spaciated bilateral Time
dynamically equals revolutionary bicameral Space
in NonZero-Sum
open-holistic yet still emergent
equipoise waves
of self/other co-conscious
co-passionate
co-empathic
co-intentional
co-operative comm-union comm-unication.
Well,
thanks for sharing all that.
De nada;
my Pleasure.
Goosebumps and all
I lay
Under a bed of stars
Sparkling across the night sky like a diamond mine
Chinese Lanterns in the sky, hanging far from my reach
To guide me through the complexity of the darker night
The solitary moon and I Gaze at one another other
Parallel in nature, we hang back from the rest of the world
She, plagued by her cyclic nature,
And I, sickened by the cynicism that only a broken heart can bring
She pulls at the ocean, wishing for affection from the shore
And I, push away any attempt at sincerity
But she must fall as the day grows young,
And I must rise to the possibilities
My chest wall aches, as it fills with hope and the cold night air
This must be how a second chance at life, and inner peace must feel
Then the wind blows through the willow trees
The crickets move their bows together in symphony.
They made an overture, for the performance of only one
This is my song,
my new harmony
Form:
Like warring against faithful warriors,
I host these inside spirited voices
sometimes LeftWing win/win
and sometimes RightWing suboptimal win/lose,
Now outwardly accelerating toward deniable lose/lose climates--
narrow-minded nationalism
patriarchal religious privileged truth
xenophobic fears my own species will survive
to kill all others,
nihilism,
entropic dead ego-less apathy
un-ecosystemically pathological.
RightWing cynicism
feels like my hungry camouflaged wolf
impatiently waiting
for a kleptocratic
privileged White-Hetero terrorist's manly clothing
to sniff
then hate.
Yet, in silent LeftWing waiting for heroic deliverance,
in-between these SpiritSanctuary daytime Voices
of imagined ego/eco-consciousness,
Some voices, persuaded by compassionate universal feelings,
and others, more heuristically ambivalent,
hold out for immortal winning EarthTribe space
And, most coveted of all,
re-winning Paradise throughout remaining timeless time
for restoring just ecosystemic healthy EarthSoul
and active peace, communion
ego-celebrating SpiritVoices
More win/win attuned
in better sung and danced
health harmonic questions.
The word love has such a glorious ring
Makes us warm and fuzzy all over
Seeing pretty flowers where none exist
Or walking through fields of clover
What a boring place this world would be
If we couldn't feel the pleasures of love
But could it be just our active imagination
Or some hokus pokus from above?
Whatever the reason, whatever the case
It's the emotion that makes us tick
The balance that keeps us all on track
But some say it's a cheap parlour trick
They say it's a fairy tale and isn't for real
Just a figment of our imagination
Most times we can turn it on or off
And call it an innocent flirtation
So here's to love, raise your glasses high
For me, it's still alive and well
In spite of all the nasty cynicism that exists
It's survived through heaven and hell
© Jack Ellison 2015
Dedicated to Tim Smith, the Romance King
The complete loss of naivety doesn’t necesseraly lead
To cynicism cause it would be too dramatic
Its just a usual way of life
As it is, no naivety, no cynicism
Though you’d like to have them in stock
Just in case you’d need some of it again
But the problem is, sellers are gone
Those good sellers, who could get anything you wanted
Some of them have become state officials
Others have converted to Buddhism
And a few have delved deep into the sweet dullness
Of privacy in the countryside homes
But sooner or later you realize
That you own them for free
Naivety and cynicism
Absolutely like new, here they are
Well shaped, exquisitely elegant
With a little leaf on the ends
Looking exactly like the earrings we bought you last summer
You can wear them again, why not
No one will notice, what these items are
They’d only see the earrings.
Green hill, grassy knoll,Mossy mountain slope,
The joy that is to come.high ridge, fresh stream,
ditch and canyon, overflowing basin.
To be at ease and without a heavy load in life,
A place of peace, we dwell in joy
Innocent of the ways of the king's land
Like Eden, without deceit and wicked schemes
Yet cynicism enters deep within,
Weariness of life drives us far away.
We are saddened, we encounter pain
This painful world is full of sorrow
A thing that passes quickly,
only temporary,Life dies, we cannot
live it forever.We are mortal,
we all depart,
Our blood returns to the earth
Form:
Cynicism
Written: by Miracle Man
3-1-2021
I’m at the place in life where a cynic has emerged,
I’ve been taken so often other’s words are tainted.
I seek inner peace that these feelings would be purged,
but, until then, it is what it is, with reality I’m acquainted.
I remember a time when man’s word was his bond,
now a gaggle of lawyers have replaced the handshake.
But today is the result that elapsed time has spawned,
and as time drags on, is our existence at stake?
The cynic says, “one man can’t do anything.”
I say, “only one man can do anything.”
One man acting creatively with others
can move the world,
John W. Gardner
She opens the DSM-5 to page 666,
Know Thyself,
who among us is not a Beast somehow,
she's enthralled by Imperfection,
It explains the scars on her heart,
if she believed in Perfection
then she would need to accept her own nature
unequivocally,
she would have to love every part of herself,
poetry is her therapy
building puzzles her bliss
solving puzzles her passion,
she is a madwoman in the 3rd degree,
a sensational spaz
believes that she is a heroine among the herd,
starlet atop a soapbox
cavalier with her cross of crass sass,
she cares too much to be free...
searching in the trauma of souls
for her own ghost
lovestruck by the Devil's lightning
Godsmacked by the grind
listening for God to apologize,
she's exhausted by cynicism
brilliant yet bitter,
a cutthroat competitor,
frozen beauty in a flame,
she expects Life to buck her every day
a jaded girl looking for the grim,
on stormy days she sings to the static
perhaps she's waiting for the Apocalypse -
J.A.B. 2020