Long Disinterest Poems
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7/25/17
In the ocean or among lumber
Survivalist and hunter
Rain and thunder
Above below and inside the bunker
An increase in hunger
During Winter and Summer
A roadrunner
Giving them a stone cold stunner
Like a hot knife through butter
Running smoothly or with a buffer
Bags full of downers and uppers
Getting older, not any younger
Awake or in slumber
Areas clean or filled with clutter
Closed and open shutters
Items kept, tossed or lost down the gutter
Having disinterest or wonder
Still unfound or discovered
A miss or swish whether or not wearing shorts made by no jumper
Dented and pristine bumpers
You are or aren't showing your true colors
unearthly liminal subsistence.
unable to detach entirely,
fettered by forlorn sanguinity
that one among the mob
will wrest and ground me down
from bereft marginal despair…
one might catch my néant, spectral eyes
accursed to stare, and capsize
in reality’s inconspicuous lacunas.
saturnine and desultory I roam.
uncannily, habitually noclipping
through habituating atmospherics,
existing on lower planes,
levels much too sunken,
much too forthright, kenopsic,
to be wanted to drag free from—
a “killjoy” holloway, victimised,
sempiternally marred and dejected.
bellowing for commiserating glances
that, inevitably, reverberates
off the substantial ramparts
I laboriously raised around myself,
back into my aural faculties—
the most callous of witticism;
abruptly, through the glassiness,
I want silence and subtlety back
as the bulwarks founder ruinously.
monachopsic anomalousness stabs;
meandering through hollow shell,
searching for something impactful.
piercing torpidly, double-edged rapier,
remaining internal to prolong
meaningless, fading life, concurrently
coercing me a threat to listless crowd,
constraining remoteness to ensure
my legacy a quiet and forgotten myth.
unlinked, I locomote airborne,
punctured by student cohort
yet now, at long last, on their plane.
peering through student bodies,
studying cliques I yearned for,
observing pure disinterest.
however I comprehend my opaqueness
and take in my weak extremities.
but the ataraxic peacefulness?
the cessation of a lifetime of pain?
following few heartless penetrations
passing through my vacant vessel,
I harshly, finally fathom my inconsequence.
erased in the minds of all,
indiscernible in the mind of mine.
Most are related to shipwrecked ghosts,
accomplices of my blood
that can still be found
in geographically scattered albums.
When there were cities to occupy,
they lived one level below expectations.
Like defective fireworks, some went off early.
A more dedicated few grew old and medicated.
Historically speaking, they forged restraints,
handcuffing themselves to other hard heads.
They built defunct railroads for the Indians
they dug ditches for the sun.
They were navigators of small schemes.
Their brief settlements and abrupt departures
left fuzzy lines on rodent paws.
As a family, we are distant and unknown,
but we do speak to our dead
if they come to call,
after a respectable period
of life-long disinterest.
In the murmur of modernity, a disease courses through the veins,
A silent malaise, binding hearts and thoughts in heavy chains,
Where no one thinks, feels, or dares to care deeply anymore,
No spark ignites, no spirit ventures beyond mundane chores.
All emotion drifts like whispers in a forgotten dream,
Beliefs eroded, lost, in an unbroken monotone regime,
Each soul devoured by the pursuit of their own comfortable zone,
God damn mediocrity, the silent parasite that’s grown.
We dwell in mental deserts, vast and devoid of rain,
Where the river of passion has dried up, leaving only pain,
A sterile landscape where boredom makes its nest,
And every heart, though it beats, feels oppressed.
The stars above, once guides, now pale and far,
Their light drowned out by neon's unceasing jar,
No cosmic wonder, no ancient creed inspires,
Only humble life without a trace of fire.
This malady of spirit, this plague of the soul,
Steals the colors from our dreams, making them dark as coal,
No fervent cry for justice, no poetic flight,
Only shadows of disinterest in the realm of night.
Yet in melancholy, a whisper soft as dusk,
Of dreams once lived, of purposes robust,
If only we could break the chains of this affliction’s hold,
Rise from mediocrity, let our spirits unfold.
In the quiet corners of our hearts, let’s rekindle forgotten flames,
Recall the ancient stories, the legendary names,
For in the depth of feeling, in care’s profound embrace,
We may recapture the light, in darkness find our place.
Rise, dreamers, in the twilight's glow,
Let passion burn, reveal your true colors,
Defy the creeping mediocrity, let your spirit soar,
For in the deep beat of the heart, true life intensifies.
Perusing some recently mindless & unlabeled
shelfed works (my recently ancient poems),
benumbed fingers pluck jumbled words;
musings that had much meaning once
but now seem more like
the random scattering of monkey turds.
A thousand keyboards are buried in my brains landfill,
and here come the plucky and ribald seagulls
to peck at the words still wriggling through
unplugged motherboards.
Still and all, there may be a line or two
that have escaped the ravishes
of times disinterest and ennui,
there may be a poem here - somewhere,
its small, quivering spirit still hopefully squeaking:
"pick me, pick me!"
Bassoon's over eagerness often
made it's social awkwardness
more awareable
aloofness or disinterest, often
lacking eye contact
fidgeting, or over-monitoring
their own behavior the cantars
mindfulness to stay present
approaches designed to make
interactions feel more comfortable
and natural.
Being the "fifth wheel in your own relationship"
typically means feeling like an unnecessary,
third-party addition rather than an equal partner
This often happens due to a power imbalance,
emotional disconnect, or when an outside third
party seeking or a power play
. When somesong or some songs
deliberately puts themselves
in appealing or high-attention environments
to manipulate others into thinking
they are highly desired.
Some pondered ways
to pep-up the pulpit and pew,
but disinterest and ennui won the day.
The clergy went away to get help
and never came back.
Eventually, thunder and sleet
cracked stone, spire, and gable;
neglect, and the cold winds of time
nibbled at arch and buttress.
Where once was a stained-glass light,
weeds and mildew weathered to a moldy rot.
Where once the hems of cassocks swept
now mice and spiders rest or nest,
and baby bats roost in the rectory.
There In a dusty belfry
owls hoot and solemnly perch.
Walls crumbling to niche and cranny.
Amid all this spacy ruin
jackdaws lay their speckled eggs,
while in the misty moonlight
homeless angels dance
upon feather-light, slinky legs.
STRANGE FRIEND
I had a friend both on Facebook and meeting him in person
he often sent me words of wisdom said by a famous person,
about loyalty and honesty, I often find these saying rather
banal and self-evident.
His dream was to be rich and have a big car, but like me, we
didn´t have the talent other than buying a lottery ticket.
I think he was selling things and made a modest living,
I tried to write and was equally unsuccessful, but we tried
in our clumsy way to find a road forward.
I often thought he didn´t really like me that much he was,
I think jealous of my relaxed attitude to life`s strange ways
And the disinterest in money.
I think he found me arrogant for calling a spade a spade,
people do not take the truth lightly, do I?
Suddenly he unfriended me on Facebook and declared
he didn´t want to see me again.
This tiding was pleasant I no longer had to pretend he was boring
and his range of conversations limited.
I have lost a few “friends” on Facebook, but it means very little
perhaps I should tone it down a little, be all friendly, that will be the day
Introversion, like strengthening integrity,
explores fusing with the Whole
which I associate with ego-death
whether by colonizing encroachments of Other
more powerful,
arrogantly unenlightened,
predators
Or by ego-transmutation
creolization
rebirth
synergetic sacraments
of wedding
bedding
feeding
breeding
loving
win/win compassion
And probably some positive
and negative,
impressive
and repressive,
flavors
and savors
of both varieties
anxiously anticipating ego-degeneration,
Self-emptying
under duress
and surviving chronic depression,
ego critical stress
and chronic trauma events.
Extroversion,
like outflowing exhilaration,
celebrates interdependent individuation
either against
or within
Earth's whole open system
Which I know as ego-augmentation
within a Western straight white male privileged context
of anthro-exceptionalism
MonoTheistically over against EarthTribe's carnal nature
Or
PanenTheistically celebrating ego's EarthMothered
nurtured
holonic spirit
And probably some in and out
positive and negative
Both/And Right hemisphere
and Either/Or Left hemisphere
introverted ego
embracing extroverting ecosystemic interdependence
with indigenous wisdom
of healthy ego
dipolar co-arising
wealthy ecosystemic context
While EitherMe OrWe introversion
without BothMe AndWe
integral holon of EarthTribal view
veers off toward Lose/Lose despair
death
depression
inevitable ecocide
and lack of capacity to thrive,
emergent disinterest in surviving
While extroversion invites sacred out
and inflowing integral Other
into panentheistic win/win play
to grow our humane/divine
interreligious
bicamerally interdependent
Tao wu-wei.
Let me ask you—
do you love me?
For I love you.
But that is not the question.
When things upset me
I cannot express it.
I sit back in anger
and then transgress.
The things you do,
you do repeatedly,
sometimes acting
as if I do not exist.
Leaving me behind,
my mind lost in a mist—
a mist of clouds
floating without direction.
The feeling of disinterest
is deeply noted,
the loneliness lingering
throughout the day.
Until it’s time for bed—
still nothing to say.
You have your friends,
and I have mine too,
but you and I both know
they should not come before you.
Yet I feel less important
when it comes to them,
leaving me confused
and frustrated again.
Everything you do
seems done on a whim.
You treat them like family,
but not the same with me.
Listen here, my guy—
I carry your last name.
Touch me, pinch me,
let me know I’m there.
Stop ignoring me,
tossing me aside
as if you do not care.