Long Philosophically Poems
Long Philosophically Poems. Below are the most popular long Philosophically by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Philosophically poems by poem length and keyword.
Free Verse: Vulnerability
Philosophically, and ideally,
I believe I should be myself,
Which makes me feel vulnerable, unsafe, and insecure.
Practically, and actually,
My philosophical ideal is eclipsed by fear.
So, I protect myself
By hiding my identity, or disguising it with a false identity
To feel safe, secure, and invulnerable.
But, what is my identity?
It's how I feel and act - now,
Not what I was was yesterday,
Not the story someone wrote for me,
Not what I plan or hope to be tomorrow,
Not what my driver's license or resume says.
It's how I feel and act - now.
There's my homework
Let my actions and outward expressions
Honor what I feel is right
Which is me -
Now.
Diamante: Vulnerability
Real -
Vulnerable, Unsafe
False - Safe, Invulnerable
I must be real -
What I feel
Is right -
Now
Identity Crisis
Who are you? Who are we? In this world
“In this present”, corrected Master Satan
We live now again in a special lifetime
“So far from the original. I'm gone for light.”
Are we living in the age of migration? Where?
Or what is happening to our beloved Earth?
Is this chaos? Or just my perception wrong?
No, I don’t think so. This time, our common time
We live in a new world, and we have started to live
Live the new beginning, new age. Yes. That. Time
Oh, where is my life? In an ever-changing existence?
High, deep, tight, wide, soft, hard, friendly, hostile, this life
I cannot find mine. Where is my national integrity? where?
Europe? Great Britain? Hungary? England?
Politically conservative? Liberal? None of these
Maybe a globalist? Hmm? No, I have already crossed it
“Then?” But not that. Not philosophically. Not theologically?
“Then?” Realistically. Universalistically. Real mysticism?
“Then?” Dream of life. Next. Surviving death is the life hoped for
“What?” Life. Space for life. Extent. Extent of life.
“What’s the problem?” Closed life space on Earth makes war
Open universes give space, space for lives. For life
“So open space is peace
Closed space is destruction.”
Right
“Then?”
Where is the path?
To the galactical life?
I don’t know where I am
I want to live thousands of light-years away
To live a new life, in an absolutely different way
“Different method and different manifestation, you mean.”
Yes, oh my Satan, I need something new
“Totally new”
Yes, I want a new lifestyle, a new desire
The cycle of life on Earth is very boring
The spiral is going down, not up. It’s death
“Hmm
It’s understandable
Are you a human??”
Why was my whole special school life,
An interpretation of nature and school?
A philosophical contemplation and analysis,
A freeway inquiry into the education tool.
Because the god concept was lain out,
On the household table, delicately spread,
I was sharp at social phenomenon,
Even as a primary child was not off my head.
When I journeyed down the corridors,
Slowly, because of my disability,
I was more often than not on my own,
‘Cos the others would show off their mobility.
So I thought about the politics,
Of the special school and our integration right,
Our need of ramps and disabled toilets,
The importance of everybody’s mindset height.
I classed the whole organisational structure as wrong,
For using the carers as playtime supervisors,
‘Cos in my old nursery school the teachers contravened,
In any tit-for-tat playground misdemeanours.
The teachers knew us in the classroom,
So adjudicated fairly and with respect,
Were able to administer justice,
Wherever there was a point of regret.
The carers were just not on my level,
And you had to do what they said,
Which overshadowed my whole experience,
Which made me much see red.
It was believed that the carers had a light on,
Because they scribed for us in maths,
But your profession level sets your reception,
Of high-flyers’ stares and laughs.
I mean, I didn’t ever laugh at them,
For their low rank and position,
But that just meant they never put me with,
My parents speech and religion.
But I considered myself determined philosophically,
Not in the free-will line of thought camp,
And just needed a man, board or committee,
To rejuvenate myself and amp.
So I often spoke with the school doctor,
The boss of the cliques and staff,
But the other pupils resented it,
Laughing at my physical prospects, chaff.
When your life does not go right,
Insist, if you can, on calling the shots,
Make appointments with the gods,
And beam with importance watts.
When people say don’t use the F word, do they have any idea how formidable fellowship, flux, foxy, finite, and figure-head are freely and fervently formed?
The F word?
What F word?
This crazy admonishment has led me to
This F word poem.
A fantastical fabricated tale, formulated and foretold by
four flirtatious faeries who frankly, felt fractionalized, forever far-fetched, finely falsified, and furiously fantasized by formerly frozen phenoms.
You will find words like fervent, frilly, formidable, feathery, figurehead, and flicker, in this finery.
You will forget fizzles, falls, fits, feeling fervently and frivolously focused.
Foundationally, this formidable fleeting fable of a quadrant of feisty feminine femme fatales
Is fraught with falsehoods, fictions.
My assistant, Franchesa, who was one of these frivolous faeries, is in a frantic frenzy toward focusing her feminine fancies on a phenomenally fragile finish,
What? I have not even added my favorite f words yet.... Fun-filled, flesh-eating, form-fitting
freckled, frozen, fast track, fair-weathered forget-me-knots to name a few.
We are at the fidgety part of the flowery forest of fantasy now.
I appreciate your faithfulness in falling for my ferociously friendly, flowery, f-trap.
I find it funny that family, fellowship, famously, fleshy, formula, and feckless begin with the same F as fanciful, Felix, fanny and the word that shall not be named.
Formidable words forever feel forgiven in the forefront of the fanfare of the forest.
Philosophically, what about the furious finish, fortuitously finalized by my former free mason, Fritz?
Forgone conclusion, friends, the finale was fortuitously inspired, of course, by my favorite letter, F.
I was created
in the image of God, I
Imago Deo
But I am in a
class of my own, I am a
Mathematical
set of one, we all
are a token, Socrates
or me and yes, you
I am a type, which
belongs to a class, but still
I am in a class of
My own, the class
Class identity of me
I think therefore I
Am (it’s not a good
Translation from the Latin)
Cogito Ergo
Sum, even though it
begs the question, it is a
Cartesian set
Je pense, donc je suis
In French, cogitatio fit
Thinking, occurring
Would better describe
this mess, but how would one prove
somebody’s thinking?
Brainwaves? Synapses?
So, we are all in a class
Of our own (imaged)
Philosophically
Personal identity
Is not an option
To a worldview
That is consigned to matter
And motion, no potion
No cerebral bend
Or mental gymnastics can
Account for abstract
Entities, such as
Identity over time
In a class its own
I asked my wife, what is the purpose of the married life,
She answered philosophically, "The goal is to turn Mr. Wrong into Mr. Right".
I asked my wife, why you need so many dresses,
You only wear them once and hang them in antiquity,
It is not the dress, but what goes in the dress, defines the beauty,
Her answer, "As a man, you would not understand".
I wondered why it takes you so long to get dressed for a party,
If you had only a few dresses, you would not be so confused,
Why get color coordinated, men can spot the beauty even in rags,
She replied, "As a man, you would not understand".
When I ask my wife a question, I often wonder,
Should I ask in a positive or a negative sense,
I am afraid the answer will be opposite of what I say,
As a man, I agree, I do not undestand.
Like a tumbleweed aimlessly blowing in the wind
across infinitely open and wide prairie home companion land
(which wasteland famously epitomized by T.S. Elliot)
a barren vista ravages metaphorical landscape
of one measly mortal malcontent male
bumping and scraping along accursed habiliment
just barely avoiding and dodging diabolical demons
mercilessly and unrelentingly ready
to seduce this somewhat sanguine Simian
who finds himself amidst the pitfalls
of a tortured and twisted existence
racked with pinions describe bing
a demonic dragon filled dungeon
damp, dark, demented domains –
a veritable no man’s land
impossible to escape no matter how fast I -
as a foo fighter flee
from the fearful, fierce-some phantasmagoric forms
figments of my imagination seemingly real
tangible as bone and flesh
who haunt sacred crowded house of slumber
transmogrify me into a loathsome madman
ranting raving senseless gibberish and sic gobbledygook
perceived as metaphysically n philosophically insane
as soundgarden syllabification
from one womanly World Wide Web wayfarer
which virtual vagabond venerates vowels
and possesses means and tees to till verse
akin to a sorceress who waves a magic wand
to produce supreme sentences
weaves tantalizing terrific tweed topographic tundra’s
that this admirer of her artful and colorful poetic endeavors
prompts me to accompany my mindscape
as a thought-provoking troubadour
amidst the information super byways and highways
along winding labyrinths of critical thinking
or simply stepping o'er rolling stones
of silly rhymes without wing less reason
all the while giving subtle egress
into that chamber of secrets
long kept shut tight to maintain
that sure footed stance of solitude
whose only entities happened
to constitute trappings of literary lugubriousness
those tombs of largesse identified
as great works and masterpieces of literature
yet careful to avoid complete intimacy
lest that cherished solitude shattered
and a heart rent asunder
twin tower ring inferno imp perils of loss that provide
an understandable cautionary tale
to the author of this rambling missive
a most profoundly perceptive acute Ape man
touched to the quick with a bit of angel dust
aware that this agonized and angst riddled arboreal beast
contents himself with the confines of cyberspace!
Pursuing more than a fair rightful need,
Man, thou hast cornered every craven toy,
Coveting vulture-like that grabs with greed,
Indulging more, way far less to enjoy,
Chasing false thrills on thy life’s every shore
To gratify thy voracious desires,
Fuelling around furious forest fires,
Yielding less and less, fielding more and more.
Thou hast far fewer brain spots of pleasure—
Those that fuel in thee a raging fire,
Beware, Nature has a rare erasure
On thy streetcar with a brake-less desire
That darts more dots O driving thou to strive,
Yet, satisfaction does seldom arrive.
Beware O man, ye covet in excess
In hedonic hotspots’ frantic mad chase,
Attempting to get more, enjoying less,
Amidst all boundless bounties art thou blasé!
…..
What ancient wisdom of ours long ere knew,
Science endorses now its weighty view.
________________________________________
Happenings | 01.04.2007 | desire, joy, pleasure
Poet’s note: A scientific study shows that wanting and liking are separate spots in brain controlled by different circuits. Only when these urges occur in sync, is the impact on brain powerful. But there is a catch. Brain has fewer mechanisms for pleasure than for desire. Hence humans are susceptible to wanting more than they can actually enjoy. Alas, science is only now beginning to understand the Indic thought spiritually and philosophically divined long ago, that too much desire which always frustrates man is not good. Minimizing one’s needs is the key to happiness.
This poem has four stanzas, progressively reducing in size— from eight, to six, to four, to two— the hedonic spots for desire must gradually reduce in sync with those to enjoy.
RufePal kept muttering "jv" team as it looked
around the room,
hoping to find someone underage to mentor to.
Michael blurted, "you and your precious
America! You are so gullible and trusting.
Penney started singing, "Scotty doesn't know, Scotty doesn't know oh...so don't tell Scotty."
Shut, the, fuuuu, up!
Do you think Bill Gates bought all that farmland,
after visiting China and performing fell...because
he wanted to rub elbows with you dirt farmers !
Gus complained, "i'm not a dirt farmer,
I am an old gum collector."
The gang nodded and murmured, looking one
to another in testimony and agreement.
"I know how to work a hoe, sure,
but I am more a collector of hoes than anything, philosophically.",
chimed Silky.
"I collect damned New Age Church souls
that do not care to notice the obvious difference
in Dogma between the Original Eclipsed Church
and this imposed heretical one." added Vatican2Priest.
"Penney's eyes lit up and this time she pulled...
"Enough, you simpleton MAGATS",
she hissed, "I'm not a MAGA, I hate America just like you!, she began to trick(her specialty)...
"Silence", she matched Penny's objection
and also her Va. Gina Monologue Kung Fu.
As she drug it out slowly like the movie Alien.
Whoopies unneeded I.U.D. was actually an I.E.D.
"In 3 minutes this place and all of you are gonna
go sky high to meet your Lord in the Air !"
Penney got confirmation by snickering, "3 minutes?
I could do... nevermind !"
She began to pack a suitcase slowly after making herself a sandwich, taking the things she thought were pretty.
When she had made her way to the front door, she adjusted the blinds and feng shui of the room.
The others followed, mainly because she was
a good shopper and a beautiful prostitute.
Michael couldn't even speak, he was so angry
at RufePal not bringing the gun and now
Whoopie sets the bomb for 'leave
at your convenience' !
She it them backhanded Whoopie and took t
he explosive from her with a handkerchief
and began to run after them...
Form:
(alter knit lee tie tilled -
Field Day For A Nihilist).
Hunger for knowledge vis avis car ear ring
(and car rue ming) cerebrum formulated,
integrated, promulgated personal perception
to the point of no return, and inadvertently
brought to fruition basic, dogmatic, enigmatic,
fatalistic heuristic life lessons. The fabulist,
dualistic capacity averred viz Zoroastrianism
figuratively pitched this contemplative,
furtive, intuitive literate organic, realistic,
universalistic, wanderer yearning instinctive
modalities metamorphosing this quizzically
opportunistic, philosophically naturalistic,
officially matt tea real list tic, and sometime
prophesying prognosticating probing outlier.
As a nonestablishmentarian libertarian, joy
riding heretic, feasting dishabille bum, I
contemplated the capacity qua Duality
of human being to co-exist inside the
labyrinth of mental learning. Quite often
reconciliation between the angel of come
passion stood opposite intent (with
minimal effort to foment) malicious
intent toward evil. This constant tug
of war (within depths of psyche) perched
psychological state upon precarious pivot.
Balance between righteousness verses
barb bar rick ken of villainy engendered
warp and woof of noble might undermined
via ignoble, infamous injudicious threnody
thru the countless millennia, when many
an outstanding wizard served as a prime
mover and shaker to boost betterment
of so called civilized state with the bane
of anarchy, disintegration, gallimaufry
always in the vanguard. Manifold milieus,
which witnessed civilization rise and
fall became bereft of equilibrium be
tween forces of growth and decay.
The feature of intransigence (as a
free roaming derelict agent) and
dominant characteristic
of contemporary society.