Long Forseen Poems
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hear the phrase all of the time,
‘It doesn’t fit the narrative,’
used in news, academia,
and in political missives,
a phrase that I find curious
since so many do seem to yell
that the narrative they’ve chosen
outweighs even the world itself.
Like Marx’s view on history,
and the old ‘progress’ fallacy,
this thought that we must have stages,
advance through them relentlessly,
but history won’t hold them up,
it doesn’t go by what they say,
there is no path man is bound to,
just crazy lurchings everyday.
Did not 2016 prove this?
The narrative was she would win,
but things didn’t turn out that way,
and folks went nuts, thought it a sin.
Screamed about it for four years,
it wasn’t supposed to happen, no!
Despite the fact, scanning the past,
that this is how things often go.
I think, perhaps, the first mistake
you see in the narrative crowd,
is simple overreduction,
to pair all human beings down.
We saw this in Collectivists,
and their misplaced faith in ‘the group,’
but others do this trick as well,
simplification hides the truth.
Humans are a chaos system,
even taken one at time,
sure, we do have our old routines,
but every so often you’ll find
we do something that makes no sense,
that no other man could predict,
that unseen burst of randomness,
is so often what makes us tick.
Expand that to the whole species,
and you see chaos written large,
chaos actors interacting,
I think that it's a stretch too far
for any human mind to grasp,
to think you could is a conceit,
too many factors change too fast
to be forseen reliably.
Add to that the physical world
is a chaos system as well,
and we’re all stuck living with it,
this makes it really hard to tell
what causes this, or changes that,
to our mind it seems randomness,
it’s plain to see that narrative
cannot encompass all of this.
Our brain simply can’t organize
or relate to something that vast,
we simplify to understand,
and there’s a great danger in that.
Some start to think the narrative
is objective reality,
and act as if denying that
is a troubling perfidy.
But when has the world ever cared
about the thoughts we apes create?
The world is not a narrative,
that is a fact we can’t escape...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
They say you'd know it,
In first glance,
It's a game of chance.
But we weren't even friends ,
Back then,
When i use to call my usual bluff,
And all my friends roll their eyes,
Saying "girl,that's enough".
Back when,
I never noticed what color was his shirt,
Or what does he do or doesn't ,
They say you'd know when it's love,
I never not.
I didn't.
When he passed by me,
Or became subject to my eyeline,
When I made fun of his friend,
Or when he spied mine.
I never knew it'd be so fun,
I never knew I'd be in so love.
And then he landed in my life,
Like a feather fallen from sky,
And I couldn't say "I can't ".
Since then it's been like a dream,
Like I've forseen,
In my wildest predictions.
They say you'd know it,
In first glance,
It's a game of chance.
But we weren't even friends,
Back then.
I know how it ends.
Choice or Destiny - either way,
we make it.
All the paths laid out before me,
each step unknown but planned.
So many lessons in these life choices
to be taken and learned but only in proper time.
Marriage and children, widowed and divorced,
what was written in by destiny?
Teaching, care giving, loving and being loved
each a planned unplanned expectation.
It was enough though quite difficult
to meet, accept and satisfy those wants and needs.
Responsibility was taken as it came
not gladly but with love and foresight or its lack thereof.
In love, with love, each gave into another
and the call was realized and recognized.
With acceptance and quiet prayers to hold it back,
but life takes its course as intended.
I may not have forseen the journey,
but chose my way along its crossroad of destiny
and
I know how it ends.
a Gaudier Brezeka tribute
momentary
fits of enthusiasm
great in promise
visible on the horizon
sanguine features
objects of stimulation
in a fine beautiful spirit
gentleness
with humour
in delicate movements
statues
sketches& a few
page on art
en passant
such shafts of light
faculty of sythesis
with a
faculty of comprehension
sculptured energy
life in the absolute
such intensity
of existence
in a petrified
semblance
such opulent maturity
yet
a fragmented
potential
into
a stasis
of defiance
free of influence
a sense of stone
in stylised shapes
in opulent curves
as assembled digest
unyielding in scope
a consumable scope
for restless inquisitions
now vaguely forgotten
shortened
by the strain of war
but
with
accomplished
ease
in a vortex forseen
a Gaudier Brezeka tribute
momentary
fits of enthusiasm
great in promise
visible on the horizon
sanguine features
objects of stimulation
in a fine beautiful spirit
gentleness
with humour
in delicate movements
statues
sketches& a few
page on art
en passant
such shafts of light
faculty of sythesis
with a
faculty of comprehension
sculptured energy
life in the absolute
such intensity
of existence
in a petrified
semblance
such opulent maturity
yet
a fragmented
potential
into
a stasis
of defiance
free of influence
a sense of stone
in stylised shapes
in opulent curves
as assembled digest
unyielding in scope
a consumable scope
for restless inquisitions
now vaguely forgotten
shortened
by the strain of war
but
with
accomplished
ease
in a vortex forseen
a Gaudier Brezeka tribute
momentary
fits of enthusiasm
great in promise
visible on the horizon
sanguine features
objects of stimulation
in a fine beautiful spirit
gentleness
with humour
in delicate movements
statues
sketches& a few
page on art
en passant
such shafts of light
faculty of sythesis
with a
faculty of comprehension
sculptured energy
life in the absolute
such intensity
of existence
in a petrified
semblance
such opulent maturity
yet
a fragmented
potential
into
a stasis
of defiance
free of influence
a sense of stone
in stylised shapes
in opulent curves
as assembled digest
unyielding in scope
a consumable scope
for restless inquisitions
now vaguely forgotten
shortened
by the strain of war
but
with
accomplished
ease
in a vortex forseen
hidden intentions
forseen from afar
set in the dark
tracks in the stone
to posterity through cloisters
with empty streams
a desert
of aged rivers
folds of nothingness
now run cold
treasures like rain
in abundance
lies
unnoticed
customs rites inscribed
without counsel
an eternal mandate
to interpret
given honour
crowned by command
by order
from on high
among us
the genteel
giving way
wise to please
acquainted with justice
models in reason
upon their own course:
practised analysis carried out
answers
to this current age:
precarious colleagues
in everything else
so doing
growing in reserve
wisdom mistaken at large
original
sincere
an analogy repeated
appears suspended
derived with censured
motives uncombed
wholly simulated
yet
capable of lasting enquiry
liberty prohibited without a whisper
rebellion in ignorance
opens the door of history
to the impossible
authentic conscience
a theory so many mark
but
do not listen
yet
at the end of it
can only
weep
year later
an obstacle remembered
now destroyed
in affections furrow
a doorway to the cross:
a suitable place
the winged cloud
talked of in conversation
thought to be cast down
yet
an indesructible word
now
still in flower
in the half-light of beauty
bringing light
vineyards of branches
gild the moment
highlights on a scale of importance
bringing equity
from heaven:
declaimed scripture
matter to contend
&advance the picture
with courage
an example for the next time
I lost
but at what cost
I wrote that poem from my heart
I thought it'd be a great start
to show the ugly side of addiction
I guess I was tripping
but the truth shall be seen
it was already foretold forseen
I should have tried harder
been a little smarter
and maybe I would have won
maybe the next one
because addiction is real
children forced to deal
on there own without a meal
I bet your saying she cant be for real
yet my poem they did not choose
would have never thought I would lose
so again I try
I refuse to cry
ill just go harder
and not play the mauder
the ones chosen were absolutely amazing
this is just me doing a little hating
but still I rise
and one day I will win that prize
Dreams are built of tomorrows forseen,
The children of Hope and Desire.
Dreams grow strong on the fare of deep thoughts;
Are tempered to greatness in passion's bright fire.
Knowledge guides dreams to their birth;
We judge both our own, and others' worth
By what we seek and what we wish to be
As we briefly sojourn on this Earth.
We come this way awhile to learn,
Between the vast dark at either end.
Our teachers lead us with their light,
Counsel us as friend to friend.
They too march on in their search for meaning,
Feeding our dreams as we roam.
We find our paths together in the searching,
As in the end, we bring one another home.
Sun hung high in a forgotten sky,
While walking, through the pouring rain.
Lies upon lies begin to unwind,
Realizing, the truth you forseen.
Happiness floating on bubbles in sight,
But somehow, just out of reach.
So how can I define, this moment in time,
If my mind refuses to see.
My heart steps up, to take a shot,
At interpreting this emotional haze.
It begins to whisper, to the mind,
In a soothing but provocative way.
Casting out doubts, that will forever mount
The blocks that shield a broken heart.
Replacing the sad, with a reinforced glad,
A sensation I lost from the start.
Now reaching up high, for thine hand,
As the bubbles begin to pop.
Happiness was there,
My mind was just scared.
Thank you God!
For showing me, you care.
R.K.H
10/26/2021