Long Existentialism Poems
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The first Magna Carta initiated and asserted,
The people-centred philosophy which was budding:
‘Cos if the law is not a moral prescription of human rights,
Then it's just an ego-trip for a any monarchy’s plights.
After life’s origin with the big-bang,
Came matter, plants and animals;
And then apes preceded neanderthals,
When *****neanderthalensis were a gang.
*****sapiens then hit the scene,
Began to practice agriculture in 10000 BC,
And after that a process of civilisation ignited,
The law and order in the land in which we all can be.
And of course with law and order,
Comes creativity, art and industry;
An innate ability to express ourselves,
For greater relativity.
But the original political system,
Just consisted of a king with a crown,
Who was worshipped and adored:
Until his problem was this renown.
The people were disgruntled,
So rebelled against King John,
Who signed the Magna Carta,
Which said that he too was the law under.
So the law then began to pertain to moral values,
And humanism and atheism were for the first time aired,
Because John’s sins were no longer judged by God,
After his life and death, but by people who cared.
Philosophy has burgeoned from that point on,
From Albert the Great’s theory of justice and natural law,
To Descarte’s Heliocentrism and dualistic rationalism,
Which developed into individualism and existentialism.
Ideology matters to the evolutionary process of law,
As the law is either against people, or for them;
And before 1215 it never was the people’s abstract security,
But was rather their daily unhappiness and misery.
Humanity is so much better off for the Magna Carta,
Ourselves, America, Australia and all the world,
‘Cos each individual has human rights, worth and dignity,
As it wrought a change of diplomacy and philosophy.
Absurdity, chaos,
strife:
The poet chooses
virtuous reality.
Sisyphus, a
titanic wave of metamorphosis, waiting, salted nausea:
The thinker roughed by sand
a solitary tree in a barren desert
defies absurdity
by seeking meaning in the absurd.
Authenticity,
vision, conformity, religion:
The rebel a roaring
wildfire igniting change like:
authenticity,
vision, and non-conformity
forging their own path.
Project,
reflect, individuality:
The human river
tasting the minerals of experience
expresses identity
and discovers themselves.
Leap,
Übermensch,
ethics,
logotherapy:
The agent
acts with freedom and responsibility
finding purpose.
Meaning,
joy, void, hope:
The sweet-smelling optimist a sunflower
fills emptiness with hope
seeking light in the darkness.
Truth,
illusion, reality, fiction:
The rationalist
discerns the real and the imagined.
Contradiction,
logic, emotion:
The harmonist
strives for balancing
the rational and emotional.
Freedom,
authenticity, manipulation, conformity:
The individualist
resists pressure and influence.
Awareness,
paradox, courage, hope:
The existentialist
embraces the absurd and transcends.
Leak,
speak,
strike,
kneel:
The activist challenges-
The status quo and injustice.
Tirelessly fights for justice!
Death,
suicide, violence, genocide:
The mortal
faces limit and horror with courage.
Despair,
nightmare:
The lover
shares and cares with love.
Existence
precedes essence?
Or essence
precedes existence?
The question
haunts forever.
The Stoic
Observes, unmoved yet aware:
Virtue alone suffices
whether essence or existence;
In reason and nature
we find our constant companion.
To be yourself-ish
Or to be yourself-less
That is the question:
It's like not knowing yourself
to be “yourself” that you'll be
everyone else but you
But knowing yourself
that being yourself
cause all but hurt for you
If they know themselves
they’ll save themselves by
knowing they can't save you
So you think to yourself
To end yourself to
spare them the truth
But don't refuse yourself
and turn yourself-less
It's okay to be yourself-ish
Got to be yourself-ish
or remain yourself-less
Both are all but hellish
Lose yourself or
Warp yourself
None can offer help
And yet. I could care no less
The answer, I shall relish
Forever, I’ll cherish.
Do you like reading deep into a calling for truth, a mutual exploration of existentialism more profound questions, and closeness?
Within an invitation to meet—physically, emotionally, and spiritually—in a place of honesty, wonder, and romantic mystery filled with mythical possibility?
Then read on.
(A lone voice whispers as it reads the letter for you)
Would you meet me at midnight?
Amore Mio
In the Green Forests of The Great In-Between
If l lit a fire to guide you after I invited you
To sit and just talk about all The Mysteries of Life, over ice
Like The Trinity of Happiness, Sadness, and Madness
The three things involved in all things
Things that could then turn into something that could be so nice
And then to count the flashing stars, shimmering from afar
While listening to real Country Music, played on real guitars not the new music played by AI
An extension of the fallen Morning Star
For within this invitation, to Night of a Thousand Stars, in sight
Our first topic of conversation would be that night
As we looked at Heaven's Endless Door, with wonder
Does true love even exist and live for evermore
And is there a chance for us, my Amore Mio
To walk upon its heavenly shore
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Amore Mio: Italian for my love.
Ancient philosophies insist on Immortality,
Theologies hold of its unavoidability;
As many old religions, so thought Christianity:
That Immortality is God's gift to humanity.
Reincarnation - charmingly the Indology holds,
Life, death, and rebirth cycle of Samsara bold unfolds;
How happy I am to be born as a lotus or rose,
Yet, lo, at the thought of their tentativeness, I repose.
Existentialism has evoked my thoughts rather deeply,
The nullity and barrenness of the birth-death chiefly;
If so why, in this world, do I need to live this life hard?
When I know the cruel death char and make everything marred?
I get dreams, sometimes, I am dead and solemnly buried,
Angels carry me; to Abraham's lap I am hurried;
At other times I am like chicken or mutton roasted,
Within endless ovens of deepest hell till exhausted.
I see my coffin in the womb of the earth just breaking,
Some seed, within me hiding, getting fervently cracking;
Me growing into plants unknown, springing and blossoming,
Pollinating, growing, spreading out, and keep creating...
In the end, lo, I do not know anything about it.
Yet, again, if I might try in my own words to put it:
It's like asking the taste of honey to a newborn kid,
How can it be said before, at least once, not tasting it?
Yet, do not wait, dear people, to taste immortality!
It's lying here! In everything! Taste it sumptuously!
Love! Go on loving! Get loved! Hated! Go limitlessly!
Gain whatever you want to gain out of this life! Fully!
Edited on 9 September 2021
For ''I'' Contest New or Old Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by: Constance La France
TRANSLATIONAL
assertion
overly indebted
&
touched
with humour
&nuanced
in existentialism
expression
chance
enthusiasm
stoked
in
controverseet
& hilarious
parodies
of
the
upside-down
&
topsy-turvy
a cliched
wildness
disembodied
fragility
vulnerable
narrow& closed
so suddenly so
learned
naive
immaturity
in
perspective
romantic
&sublime
yet
a
profoundly
ambivalent
reality
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Reason rests upon faith
I am not into fideism
I'm not a fan of the Enlightenment
Or a Cartesian prison
Mr. Naturalist if you please
Show me where laws grow on trees
Or where numbers hide
And propositions are seen
So you believe what you see
Has anyone ever seen
An abstract entity?
Unbelieving scientists
Obscure and fudge the truth
All the theories they've put forth
Drowned in primordial soup
Liberals say anything goes
Then attempt to condemn a belief
That's as silly as a kleptomaniac
Claiming not to be a thief
Existentialism
Seems appealing
Equate God's thoughts
It has no meaning
Thinking God's thoughts
After Him we are commanded
In chance and luck you'll be stuck
Leaving you intellectually stranded
So how do we account for counting?
Is it antecedent steps of doubt?
When we experience epistemological self-consciousness
We can ask "Who let the dogmas out?"
And then, life bid me to love it
Yes, to love it
And to enjoy it
If not to make of it, my aim
My mission
My cause
The reason I do be!
And then, life pulled my cheeks wide
And bid me to shake off the sullen look
That I always wear
Have you not read
Whispered it to my heart
Have you not read in those books
That nothing about me is to be fretted for?
And then, life pulled my hands towards it
And said,
With a pleading look
Put these into good use
Remember that others of your kind
Are not so awakened
Remember that you have means
To help me!
And then, life pushed me, into nothingness
I fell, eyes closed
Heart booming
And with my whole self engaged in a frenzied fright
But instead of crashing to the floor
I landed gently
And on my feet!
I opened my eyes
And saw, looking at me expectantly
People, drowned in life's misery
People, having no time to dwell on existentialism
People, having to battle to live!
And then, life sent me a gust of wind
A gust which pushed me to these people
And I handed out my arms
And put them into helping them!
And then, I just know
The story shall continue
Someday, I will write of what happened
Someday, when I shall recount of all that I did on Earth
To the powers that wanted me to be!
The street exhales in measured, patient light,
Where footsteps keep a cadence soft and slow,
An I, a witness to the day, walk on—
While somewhere in my mind, a name begins to grow.
A stone appears where none was set before,
Its surface pale with weather, time, and loss;
No hands in sight, yet carved with patient care—
A name, a date, and silence etched across.
It feels so close, yet too far to reach,
As if the thought itself has learned to wait;
A whispered echo at the edge of speech,
Where life and stillness almost hesitate.
A though intrudes, unbidden, keen, and still,
It settles where the quiet held its form;
Not summoned by intent, yet marks the will,
A distant tremor in an unseen storm.
I measure life against what time unthreads,
Each breath a brief inscription on the air;
The body writes what memory still treads,
And fades into the grammar of the bare.
And still I walk, the cadence kept and known,
The sky unchanged, though meanings rearrange;
What lingers is not lost, but overgrown,
A quiet thought, persistent, yet estranged.
socialism communism fascism despotism
buddhism catholicism hinduism zoroastrianism
territorialism colonialism imperialism expansionism
positivism relativism behaviorism existentialism
adventurism escapism negativism nihilism
puritanism fanaticism extremism terrorism
sexism chauvinism ultra-nationalism jingoism
hedonism epicureanism ~ stoicism asceticism
patriotism heroism altruism idealism
activism idealism individualism exceptionalism
atheism deism monotheism paganism
optimism pessimism cynicism romanticism
atheism secularism humanism utopianism
hypnotism mysticism exorcism surrealism
~ and what if there were a schism in each and every 'ism!'