Long Grasping at straws Poems
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If everything is infinite,
And space goes on and on,
Then why will our reality,
One day, simply be gone?
In an infinite paradigm,
Should finite things exist?
They’re mutually exclusive,
Opposites on that list.
And yet, the laws that we perceive,
Are finite at their core.
For universes come and go,
Like those that came before.
But if eternal laws apply,
How would they manifest?
Would such domains be linear,
As this realm might suggest?
The truth about infinity,
Is simple and succinct.
What has eternal properties,
Is perfectly distinct.
Infinity would have no flaw,
No beginning or end,
Perfection is its building block,
And that truth doesn’t bend.
But our realm is far from perfect,
Within it, all things die.
This does not fit the paradigm,
And we must wonder why.
Our universe will end one day,
All flesh will die as well.
Which means they are not infinite,
A truth that time will tell.
Yet logic says infinity,
Is how it has to be.
For something can’t come from nothing,
A fact I guarantee.
So anything that comes and goes,
Within that endless place,
Is not part of eternity,
And has none of its grace.
Infinity is limitless,
Completely without flaws.
Those who believe that isn’t true,
Have been grasping at straws.
The finite or the infinite,
Which do you think is so?
Are you prepared to bet the farm,
On what you think you know?
The facts lead us to only one
Logical conclusion,
The finite world that we observe,
Is just an illusion.
So why is it that we perceive
Something that isn’t true?
Do we not end the day we die?
That’s what I hear from you.
You are convinced this dream is real,
You trust the things you see.
You think that finite things exist
Within infinity.
But when you trust your senses five,
You cling to delusions.
If you can’t see the infinite,
You only see illusions.
If only I could vote for you, crazy Donald of my youth, after watching tonight’s horror show of possibilities with no truth. Here comes Zero-gun control, no tolerance, no respect for all, for in the future is insanity, sanity put on the run, no reason, no rhyme, more crime. race riots in full swing, is the future Donald brings. Donald to the left of you Donald to the right, spewing crazy is as crazy does, stupid right Forrest Gump? I do not watch much news, bad news day after day it can affect your brain, but I had to see tonight the momentous spectacle that Donald may bring our way. Donald did deliver on his future of crazy, but It sure did not amaze me, an audience full of beautiful Stetson’s and ball caps no disrespect its symbolic of Donald’s mainstream demographic. Donald’s future tag line will be “I love the smell of napalm in the morning” he is clear in his campaign rhetoric he has given America it’s warning, unheeded it will be the world’s darkest morning. I wish America to vote for the other Donald as I would vote for the Donald of my youth, he delivered on comedy, he delivered the truth, that innocence in the face of crazy is part of growing up, I am not sure we expected this real life Donald, crazy Donald Trump. I vote for the other Donald, for he never let me down, he was not real, just a giggle on the cultural American deal. A story foretelling of that day, that Donald of the future will become a real Daffy and will come our way. Truth be damned rhetoric reign supreme, grasping at straws of up holding the American dream, a dream that will drown in the wake of Donald’s dribble, his drool, forever staining the world’s pillow. No sleepless nights while Daffy is in power, pray to god we do not meet our final hour…Poetry by Dean
Form:
Roses and the world’s fading into black
Every tear that falls from your eyes,
I set a wish aside for you
As I start to notice
the color of roses
growing brighter every year
I watched you fade in a matter of seconds
Nothing lasts forever
but minutes can be fragile
Time flies in such a creative fashion
when it’s giving me nothing and everything
all at once
Solidarity but it leaves you ambivalent
Looking for the anger displaced
but it turns out your sitting in it
Withered roses and everything all at once
Turns out we’re all grasping at straws
One inch from death at any minute
Nothing lasts forever but seconds can be fragile
Thorns and the world’s condescending
Innocence created from the color that’s fading
from how much you shine
I couldn’t hurt you with my life on the line
I think you’re forgetting how much I love you
Pain returns in uncertain ways
I think you’re forgetting how much I love you
You’re a saint in my mind
I can’t lie
It’s fading away to the depths of my mind
Roses and the world is fading
Everything is darker from the way that you shine
Everyone can see that regret is in your rear-view mirror,
leaving a life of failed passions behind
You know I think the world of you
You’re simply forgetting how much I love you
I couldn’t be more honest with a gun to my head
I think you’re forgetting I could never hurt you
It’s fading away to the depths of my mind
I can’t lie
You know you’re a saint in my eyes
Everyone else is telling you lies
I think you’re forgetting how much I love you
Everyone else is telling you lies
I think you’re forgetting how much I love you
it's 12 am and i cant breathe
my mind, flashing through images and moments and pockets of space and time
a restless energy
a redemptive ache
as i scream the name of a distant god
its 1 am and the silence is so loud
at the computer, i take my first deep breath
the world is quiet tonight
unlike my sweaty palms racing heart (i dialed your number, my hand slipped)
'why?' i reach a clammy hand out
feeling at an endless darkness
its 2 am and my brain is hammering against my skull
like a prisoner begging for release
again i reach
for a nonexistent hand
can i dial jesus? (i think id like his number on speed dial)
its 3 am and i dont know if i can make it until 4
i lay now, praying for the reprieve of sleep
my fingers reach up
clawing at my eyes
tugging at my hair
grasping at the small
cross gifted to me by
someone long lost
i stared at your number 'till 5 am
'till the sun peeked his head out
as if a reminder that life continues on (though i miss the stillness of night)
i miss your hand in mine
i cried out to any who'd listen
grasping at straws, brokering deals with the spiders on my wall
please come home
the pastor told me itd never happen
but i called your mum
and she said you still lived on in me
its 6 am now
and id like for you to stop living in me and just- just hold me
please?
sitting across from each other
at what was once a comfortable table
in what was once a serene atmosphere
two individuals who were once so close
have now been drawn so far apart &
despite the amount of years they’ve been together &
despite all the experiences, the ups & downs,
the rollercoaster ride that was their relationship,
they now have nothing more to say to each other.
worse yet,
the time spent working & toiling away at keeping
each other afloat
has slowed them down, isolated them &
the friends that they had just a few years ago
have moved on, lost touch, or seemingly vanished---
neither of the parties at the table can remember the last time
that they went out & actually “had fun.”
tensions seem to stir from everywhere now &
backed up frustrations from years ago eat at the both of them,
so much so that they do their best not to be in the dwelling at
the same time anymore---
but without work to keep them busy or the children to occupy them
they pass the time the best that they can
trying to avoid arguments
trying to find some kind of happiness on their own.
this dinner “together” forces the tears &
the getting up from the table to get a tissue
does nothing to relieve the overall problem---
having grown older, s/he believes that there are no longer
any options available in this world &
that no matter how long you spend grasping at straws
you always come up empty---
best to just stay quiet.
Do you think a person’s past,
defines who they are today?
Or merely small chapters in life,
with choices to portray?
Can irrational behavior be excused,
by a mental diagnosis?
Or should one be accountable.
for a psychological neurosis?
Do people really forgive,
even if the person’s a child abuser?
Or is it one step closer to insanity,
of the manipulative user?
Do we deem ourselves as martyrs,
when we enforce the law?
Can we say beyond a doubt,
our judicial system is without flaw?
Is true love only “true”,
during first stages of the romance?
And after twenty-five years,
will it still be love at first glance?
Can people really change,
or is that something the foolish hope?
Are they sadly grasping at straws,
while at the end of their rope?
Would you still love me,
if my outer appearance was not as so?
Could you hide disgust in your eyes,
and would you let me go?
Is your love “unconditional”;
when I’ve seen you walk away?
How come when I needed you most,
you fled and did not stay?
Did you give enough and realize,
the importance of your life?
Did you praise the Lord and thank Him,
for making me your wife?
If you leave this world tomorrow,
can you say you have no regrets?
Or will your soul be troubled,
casting a cold shadowed silhouette?
What am I, what is my role or purpose
does it even exist a connecting between us.
My stampede of memories to your whimsical thought
the many lessons a life of disappointment taught.
A bond made nothing holding the seams
but broken spirits and tormented dreams.
Actions spoken, deceits served full course
I swallow every breath you utter by force.
Devotion used, abused, neglected that's it
the truth's been clear, ignored, I missed that bit.
Hopes that lingered, encouraged were coddled
to be dropped, dismissed and bottled.
Worn out and tired, my soul it cries
grasping at straws my heart it dies.
Miles at a time my mind it races
confused and driven into clustered spaces.
I consider the pain the hurt I endure
so why do I still care even more.
I recognize, I remember the disinterest in me
but it baffles me I still can't see.
What am I, what is my role or purpose
does it even exist a connecting between us.
My stampede of memories to your whimsical thought
the many lessons a life of disappointment taught.
Every time a day a week may pass
the thought of me is a but a glimpse in the past.
Your friendly greetings continue the persisting lie
it leaves me to wonder WHY.
A displaced soul drifts lackadaisically on a lukewarm tide
Of drugged confusion
Eyes blind and ears plugged with her own bewildered ramblings
She does not know where she floats
Nor how she came to be there
Her mind is a murky haze
A miasma of amnesia born of overwhelming strife
She comprehends only the primal urgings of
Self preservation
The inebriated machinations of her heart & lungs
As they keep her obediently alive
Keep her coasting
Everything else is a fog
A shifting quicksilver illusion, swirling like clouds
Obscuring love & passion & rage
The islands of emotion she needs to reach
The bedrock of comprehension & crucial human instinct
Cruelly they elude her
And still she drifts
Limp spaghetti fingers grasping at straws
At bottles of cheap wine & the soothing firefly
Glow of cigarettes
Caustic chemicals that inject her with false animation
That spur her through the mists towards some kind of
Clarity
Until the cold dawn-spangled hands of sobriety drag
Her back again
A slap of reality right in the face
And yet again there she is
Drifting
A puny twig, swirling on the goliath currents
Of displacement and despair
Swallowed up by cold grey infinity
So silly of you to think you had me trapped
into a corner with your endless arguments,
an innocent fawn caught in the headlight.
Hey, don’t tell me things that I already know
for there’s nothing you say that is really new,
your posturing can’t hide what little you knew.
Caught in your own headlight, oh no!
caught in the headlight, yes, you are;
admitting defeat just ain’t your style
though you are grasping at straws.
Your insecurity astounds me, you wicked man,
going nuts that I own what you have not got,
you are primed for the nearest garbage lot.
You stick like a leech when you want something
then switch gear when you feel you have it going,
I’m through with your music, fair-weather friend.
You’re crazy to think I can’t make it without you,
truth to tell, you need me more than I need you,
you don’t really know me that well, or do you?
Get the hell out of my life now, do you hear?
getting rid of you now is the least I can do,
the thought of you makes me boil all over.
It really is a sweet device,
for we invoke it often as ally
or enemy--grasping at straws
to place it in its proper pigeon-hole
and thus to clarify intent.
And history is on its side!
The noble statesman, saint
and businessman have so exalted
one epitome of truth as such
to gently lay it down
among their trophied words,
though sometimes with regrets--
for it is not alone,
though brightly does it shine
upon the shelf.
Tributes are brought; poetic morsels
of another cast may gleam,
but loyalty and all its oaths
are fair advanced and time
has canonized with vaunted due prestige,
traditions of both faith and law.
No.
It doesn't work just how we thought it did.
The status vacillates.
There are too many any more,
who do not think like us.
We thought that they appeared with some surprise
and brought with them a whirlwind.
We tried to catch them for a time, but soon
it was too much. The status quo
was too complex, and slogans didn't cut it.
Now that is something to thank God for--
although it's possible (can you conceive of it)
that He doesn't live there anymore.
~