Long Philosophyfuture Poems
Long Philosophyfuture Poems. Below are the most popular long Philosophyfuture by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Philosophyfuture poems by poem length and keyword.
As men we aspire to perfection
The slim sliver of impossible
which lies between infallibility
and the outskirts of non existence,
Searching for its proof for the mere
chance at having it define us,
For other adjectives have become
beneath us in our own evolution
Thus we strive for a deity's temperament
and assume equality with unseen irony
Disregarding humility, nobility, desirable
work ethic, and other essential virtues,
For each becomes viewed as inferior
to the extravagant identity we have stolen,
While conventional attributes such as pride
and confidence are escalated to frailties
Too ignorant on our quest for best,
to notice the change of our views,
As visions of tomorrow become
stepping stones to a more myopic sight,
Belittling the very allure of being mortal,
by denying ourselves wisdom through experience,
For no future mistakes means no future period
which condemns us to our present self,
In retrospect, which reiterates the ironic
truth of the entire self perceived perfection,
Our only perfection is our constant evolution,
as it was at birth, it shall be through death,
The continuous cycle of ignorance to knowledge,
For if man does find the treasure of this desire,
Man will still be man and nothing more,
With only the potential of failure as motivation,
Thus, abandoning the sweet taste of accomplishment,
the soft touch of achievement will be never more,
For perfection has only itself to aspire to,
and only its inevitable demise to be a last sight,
A demise that happens at the moment of assumption,
For to be perfect is to be flawed temporarily,
A fact that holds true even to the assumed perfect
which is unseen to him, thus ending his identity,
Therefore, he who holds himself as infallible,
Disregards hope, Disregards logic,
Disregards truth, disregards companionship,
Abandoning his mortal life to become excluded,
Selling his realization of humanity for the price
of a label that will never be proven to others,
Watching us live a life he wants, but still has,
Unable to see his flaws, he has become less than all,
Thus the "perfect" person, lives in perfect misery
Why do you love me, future seed, past flower
When I reminesce on deeds, on future glower
The flower of my youth was but a future forlorn
The seed of my present a tear unborn
Past loved what? - thought my potential amassed
Future possible, because of what's now passed
Thinkest thou because my fortune is set
That a mate I make, pecunii* well bet
Can I be matched for love? no, foolish
For this is a world of cynic, of wish
Could you love me for my brain?
If there were no fortune, no money-train?
My soul as thus it cannot be
For flawed am I, I am only me
I believe in myself, and all that's behind me
And cannot fathom any progress, intent, ashore lee*
So how long will you linger and seek the jewel
Which most assuredly is not me, who am but a fool
We hid in school corridors and loved for a bit
Then you found someone better, thus history is writ
Again we met and for two years comforted
Two stormy personas, some sweet time afforded
Now is six months of flirt, sobbing agony
Of depression avert, of mobbing, antimony*
So what is next, my friend, my lover?
Shall we consummate, or as thus hover?
I wait for the end, the ultimate climax
Yet I fear 'tis in vain, my heart under axe
This is the moment I shall now treasure
As the beginning of doom, or my final... forever
pecunii - Latin - money
ashore lee - the side of something that is sheltered from
the wind (understood herein to mean safe, a wise
investment)
Antimony - a metal not found alone
Form:
Ask not about what the future may bring.
Whether sorrow shall reign or happiness ring.
Breathe deeply the aroma from life's belfry.
WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE.
Seek not to know when death shall call.
Whether bells shall toll or cardinals sing.
Instead find joy in each moment's acme.
Wake up and smell the coffee.
Think not about ghouls and banshees
Or wonder what makes hopes cloudy.
Rest your thoughts upon here and now.
Wake up and smell the coffee.
Worry not about why bereavement calls.
Do not dwell on words of war.
And if at days start your mind seems clogged,
Wake up and smell the coffee.
Be happy enjoying life's fragrant…peace.
Turn long-term goals into shorter leaps.
Set life's table with roses and daisies
Then, wake up and smell the coffee.
Steadfastly time steals; days pass away.
And memories too soon fade as well.
Trust not what bouquet the future holds.
Wake up and smell the coffee, today.
© Dane Smith-Johnsen
June 3, 2010
Poetic form: Carpe Diem (With a Kyrielle feel and a touch of rhyme…SMILES!)
The days just seem so long since they took you away
Imagining the walls and the confinement
Knowing that you say reality is far worse than my imagination.
Wondering how to help you survive and knowing that there is nothing that I can do.
It is up to you and others
Your strength, your character which will need to put you on the path of your future and
dreams.
Others that will put obstacles in your way which include the guards, the courts, your past.
If not for you, then make a future for your little girl, she deserves (as do you) to know that
her father made mistakes but was able to overcome them.
You say your attitude is what is making the guards nervous; you will not take anything or
show them emotion.
Understandable knowing who is watching you.
But you need to respect yourself; as well as be respectful to them. They hold the keys.
It is a fine line to walk.
Form:
As time moves on it eats the past,
where everything we thought would last
is wrapped in present’s new born robe,
and once again joins past’s abode.
The only thing that now is real,
is not the things the past did steal
but only things this moment share,
for present is the clothes we wear.
So dwell not on what’s gone before,
but use each new day’s open door
with memories and learnings bought
from everything the past has taught.
The future we have yet to see
but it's been made by history,
so cherish things that now have past
these craft a future meant to last.
Ivor G Davies
Writtten for Paula Swansons 'When' contest.