Long Philosophyworld Poems
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What is time?
But a rotation of the planets,
A love gone to the wind,
Or a setting of the sun?
Sometimes we can’t tell the day,
But by the bottle we drink.
Or the books I read,
…Plato, Steinbeck, and old Walts leaves.
What is art?
But a set of statements,
An aesthetic feeling,
Or a theory on communication?
And other times I sit in the wind,
Nostalgic story’s swim in the chaos of thoughts.
A world of energy measured by mass,
To the speed of light,
…Have you ever seen God?
Or a rope strung to the choking of seeds?
Submission,
Submission,
A world I don’t want to keep.
Do you know what it is to hurt?
Love burnt to a gravitational hole,
Failure that sticks like a parasite
…to the bone.
Loss of light,
Loss of touch,
Loss of comprehension,
It hurts so much.
Here we dwell where time has no meaning,
A court of the gods,
With a promised feast
Consumed by gluttonous dogs.
Out in the hills we roam,
Lost like infantile, mad children.
To a hunt of tragedy,
Is the mistake of Cephalus.
Can you feel the cold chill,
The rains of pain?
The wind is our home,
And a soft mad echo
Speaks to us,
…what is it saying?
What does it mean,
To be?
Standing one with nature,
Crouched by a river,
Can we interpret the drones
Of a suburban family?
They speak of regulation,
And hold a working class hero
As the sweets of moderation.
Doesn’t the road of excess
Lead us to the palace of wisdom,
And can’t we say truth
Is but of a relative nature?
But behold,
I believe in a long
Derangement of the senses
To
Obtain
The
Unknown.
Though, What is life?
Art, poetry, a figment of the imagination.
The skeptic concludes
To a weak will.
The artist spins a love
Of
Degradation.
The contemplative
Reaches the of height of formation.
The meaning,
What is reason for the meaning?
A will, a thought, a spinning of a thread,
Or,
The fabrics of dread.
Two paths, one entity,
A system from a creed of deities.
Can you speak when I say,
“Reckless abandonment,
Deranged lonely nights,
Failed plains inside the mind.
So useless to try,
The common misperceptions of what’s right,
And the twinkle of tears gone by,
…Welcome to life.”
Form:
Hate...
Everybody,
Everybody wants something...
Nobody,
really cares...
Am I,
the only true being in this world?
They hold me captive,
I don't care...
I've lost everything,
morals and my self dignity...
I'm very destructive...
I tried my best to make good,
through every bad I went thru...
I never looked down on anybody...
Never degraded others...
Yes, America sucks...
The whole damn world sucks....
It's an oblivion,
a halocaust...
It seems to be these days,
jail is perfect salvation.
I've lived on both sides..
I've lived many ways...
I don't consider to be perfect...
But I am true,
and I'm good as long as
I'm treated right...
I treat everyone the way they treat me...
If you're nice, then I'm nice...
If you're gonna be psycho with me,
I'll give psycho back...
I'm an environmental chameleon,
a social chameleon also...
I do have drawbacks,
and I have more than enough personalities...
I do consider myself to be
A MARTYR...
I do care about the safety of others,
I want a perfect world...
I want the world to let go of all
the MADNESS...
To much hate and bitterness...
Competition,
everybody is out to
out do the other...
False advertisement...
The American Lie is
FREEDOM...
Was I born in here???
Hell, I wish I wasn't born at all...
The scale of justice has been tipped...
Majority of people are bad...
Love,
I thought there would be hope...
Love doesn't even exist no-more...
Relationships,
the other damn partner saying
you owe them a favor...
"A what?"
I owe nothing!!!
And then there's a price...
I thought Love was free,
at no cost...
you either accept it,
or throw it away...
Nobody knows the meaning of LOVE...
I see it all as Pendora's Box...
For all that was release,
Hope was locked inside...
If there was anyway,
I could change the world...
I would....
If I could die and my death
could put Love and Peace
in Every ones hearts,
I'd kill myself...
Just because I care
and wanted all the chaos to stop...
This is not Right...
This is Life...
We are our own
Corruption...
We made our own DOOM...
We've polluted our own
atmosphere and environment...
We've poisoned our children,
with violence and hate...
We are killing ourselves slowly...
One by one we drop like flies...
And who do we blame???
written in CCJ 08-10-2000
I. Creation
Before the troubles of the world infect the soul
The magic of imagination creates a womb
Devoid of torment, pain, and stress. Rainforests,
Jungles, beaches, other worlds of elation where
You are always the victor in battle, the one
Who finds true love, alpha and omega. Never
Landing in withered trees or dead grass, only
Strong trunks and rolling plains, an ocean
Of stars, a blanket while lying comfy on
Palm fronds floating down calm dreamy
Rivulets of turquoise streams. Locomotives
Wind down vast forest covered country sides
Their tracks gliding to the warm earthy
Humming sound only they can make.
Only now with danger, inherent only to your peaceful fire
Bring you to this happy place, a place desired.
II. A Home all Your Own
In the world of yesterdays and tomorrows
And days lost in the gyre of solstices we
Create a world unto ourselves. Paradises
Lost to the antiquity of children trapped
Inside their adult armor. Lies tipped with
Poison seep into the wells of being, melting
The oil from the canvas’ that dreams are painted on.
Cheap reminiscences flash through tattered wafting
Curtains. Nightmare doppelgangers wait in quarries
of fire breathing mountain giants laying siege to
Rapture found in a good escape. Chemical
Demons like iron maidens brandishing your
Favorite drugs, syringes close in creating
An eerie starry night
To you alone
In a home all your own.
III. Repent to your inner child
To regain a solid footing on the gun deck
Of the warship you’re riding in the flotsam,
Hearken lessons from the playground,
The bruises, nicks, and cuts proudly earned
Ensure the necessary skills are acquired
To embark on adventures of the body.
Hiding in shrouds like an angel
White egret with horsehair-like crests and
Misty wings is the caged fury of joy, her
Wings mightier, beak stronger, eyes sharper
And love unabated from years unvisited.
Swelling seas are sailed, reefs can’t breach
A flying draft when joy carries her burden
Aloft. Hair amber and aflame in the setting sun
Amidst a new sea of clouds, only anchor
In a child’s heart when the dream fades
And the soul returns among the shades.
Form:
Atlantic city had been a haze of slot machines and watred down drinks and loud nightclubs
that often remendedme what disney land could have been ifthatdam mouse wasntallowed
to take over.
Never trust a talking rat.
I had to go through a hellof a divorce because of it.
Good thing her brother was a lawyer cause I might have
actully had something left oh well things are overrated like indoor living.
it's hell gettinga good internet connection in a tent.
But enough time traveling i had more important issues at hand
like my return and some unpaid parking tickets and that whole
court case nonsense your place of business burns down for the fifth time
and people all wanna get uptight hey i preffer to moron my lose
in a casino they said i shoudnt be alone so im just taking doctors orders.
But i had a deadline and it was almost happy hour the library was gonna be packed.
The subject true art and cenorship.
The world around us is totatl chaos so how could you restrict how people expressed
themselfs.
Heaven forbid little tommy reads a bad word
while him and and his best friend huff paint
dear jesus man and i hope they dont play a violent video game.
Sure susan go have random sex with guys of fthe internet
but dont read no cuss word on a poetry wed site
you just might drop dead where you stand.
Its kinda like running a asylum and pretending that everyone there
isnt totally nuts.
No sir lets ignore the real world cause lord knows people
cant filp on the tv and see murder rape fires and war ya gotta
love kids programing.
You cant restrict art for if it"s all the same cookie cutter stuff.
Then is it truley art or just a pretty dellusion.
Ignore the world and it'll run you over.
Life good bad traggic is ment to be shared
the secrets of the soul can rattle in that closet till
madness breaks that perfect image we put.
but what I know.
Never restrict your mind for you will sufficate the soul.
stay proud and crazy forever
Dr Gonzo
mean so much
can be misconstrued
hurt or bring joy
a double edged sword
mighty and tranquil
deadly and horrifying.
words...
give meaning to culture
life, creation, love, and our world
has the ability to desicrate generations
begin genocide and continue hate.
words...
have moved nations and civilizations
for both good and bad
they have created the best and worst of people
yet we can't understand.
words...
have brought leaders to greatness or doom
forgetting the influence of speech
of those who suffer or die
from the verbage spoken consciencelessly
for power over things that do not mean much.
words...
have the power to touch
hearts, minds, souls, and masses
they are our greatest assets
if we use them wisely
but our ego at times speaks
caring less about anything but us.
words...
are a gift creation gave universally
dialect's challenge has been met effortlessly
the knowledge took time
to see we are all one kind
intellegent beings in need to be loved
even if its a simple hello.
words...
create those who commit unspeakable crimes
at the same time saves those victims asking why
build walls to imprison the misunderstood
and knocks down ignorance where it should.
words...
are our first and last
communication we seem to strive at
if remembered before related
they can change the world as we have made it
enducing empowerment, oneness, and declassification.
words...
can point us in the only direction
needed to survive peacefully
include every man, woman, and child
cannot be hidden or be untrue
the light will always come through
which is why the pen is mighter than a sword.
words...
are there to record
teach, remind, warn, encourage
an orchestra worth listening
whether topic is agreeable or not.
words...
give a view of the giver's heart
standing for right or wrong
the words will sing the song
if heard with true meaning
our choices in this world won't be so deceiving.
Namaste
Symphony
A MINSTREL, OR A BARD, OUT OF TIME, IN A WORLD I DIDN'T MAKE(THANK GOD, I
WOULDN'T WANT THE BLAME)
THE POINT OF IT ALL
IN READING OF HISTORIES OFT VIOLENT COURSE
I FIND TRUTH IN PLATO, THEN FEEL REMORSE
AFTER ALL, HE TRIED, THERE'S NOTHING I CAN DO
ABOUT WHAT IS OR ISN'T GOOD OR TRUE
TIME IS ENDLESS OR NOT, AS IT WERE
I CAN DO NAUGHT TO AFFECT MORTALITIES CURE
AND EVEN THOUGH I LEARN AS I GO
IN THE END, TO WHOM DOES IT MATTER THAT I KNOW?
I THINK THAT I WOULD LIKE TO BE ABLE TO TEACH
TO SOMEONE THAT I COULD REALLY REACH
WHO, THEN, IS THAT, OR JUST WHO AM I
STILL, I WOULD LIKE TO GIVE IT A TRY
REALLY, TO BE TAUGHT WE MUST BE WILLING
EAGER AND EMPTY, AWAITING A FILLING
IF, PERCHANCE,YOU WOULD LIKE TO TEACH AND LEARN
DRAW NEAR AND LISTEN, AND SPEAK IN YOUR TURN
I'M A PHILOSOPHER AT TIMES, THOUGH SELDOM IN TIME
TO FEND OFF DESPONDANCY WITH A WELL CHOSEN RHYME
I, TOO, MUST LEARN, FOR WHAT GOOD IS MERE KNOWLEDGE
TEETERING, MEANWHILE, ON POVERTIES EDGE
SOMETIMES I AM HOPELESS, YET NOT HELPLESS I KNOW
I CAN HELP, OR BE HELPED, WITHERSOEVER I GO
ALAS, ALL THE PERSEPTIONS I COULD EVER AQUIRE
DON'T MAKE ME ANY MONEY, THE WORLD DOESN'T HIRE
OF WHAT WORTH TODAY ARE THE POETS OF NATIONS
MIRED IN THE CLAY OF UNINSPIRED RELATIONS
SO MANY OF US ARE LOST AMID SOCIETY, AN ODDITY
RIDICULED FOR OUR EFFORTS, UNLESS THEY MAKE MONEY
IN OLDEN DAYS THERE WERE RESPECTED SCHOOLS
FOR US POOR SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF FOOLS
WE WERE THEN A RARE AND PRECIOUS BREED
HAPPILY FULFILLING SOCIETIES HUNGER AND NEED
NOW WHAT ARE WE, WHO HOLD PHILOSOPHY IN OUR SOULS?
WHO LIVE WITH MUSES, BERIFT OF USES OR GOALS
MY NAME MIGHT AS WELL BE DESPAIR
WHEN WILL THE WORLD SLOW DOWN, AND AGAIN CARE?
CARE ABOUT ITSELF, NOT PLEASURE OR PURSE
IF WE DON'T LEARN, I FEAR, IT'S ONLY GOING TO GET WORSE
AND THAT THE POINT OF IT ALL, AFTER IT ALL, WILL BE
MERELY THE PERIOD, AFTER THE " D "
THE END.
Form:
A MINSTREL, OR A BARD, OUT OF TIME, IN A WORLD I DIDN'T MAKE(THANK GOD, I
WOULDN'T WANT THE BLAME)
THE POINT OF IT ALL
IN READING OF HISTORIES OFT VIOLENT COURSE
I FIND TRUTH IN PLATO, THEN FEEL REMORSE
AFTER ALL, HE TRIED, THERE'S NOTHING I CAN DO
ABOUT WHAT IS OR ISN'T GOOD OR TRUE
TIME IS ENDLESS OR NOT, AS IT WERE
I CAN DO NAUGHT TO AFFECT MORTALITIES CURE
AND EVEN THOUGH I LEARN AS I GO
IN THE END, TO WHOM DOES IT MATTER THAT I KNOW?
I THINK THAT I WOULD LIKE TO BE ABLE TO TEACH
TO SOMEONE THAT I COULD REALLY REACH
WHO, THEN, IS THAT, OR JUST WHO AM I
STILL, I WOULD LIKE TO GIVE IT A TRY
REALLY, TO BE TAUGHT WE MUST BE WILLING
EAGER AND EMPTY, AWAITING A FILLING
IF, PERCHANCE,YOU WOULD LIKE TO TEACH AND LEARN
DRAW NEAR AND LISTEN, AND SPEAK IN YOUR TURN
I'M A PHILOSOPHER AT TIMES, THOUGH SELDOM IN TIME
TO FEND OFF DESPONDANCY WITH A WELL CHOSEN RHYME
I, TOO, MUST LEARN, FOR WHAT GOOD IS MERE KNOWLEDGE
TEETERING, MEANWHILE, ON POVERTIES EDGE
SOMETIMES I AM HOPELESS, YET NOT HELPLESS I KNOW
I CAN HELP, OR BE HELPED, WITHERSOEVER I GO
ALAS, ALL THE PERSEPTIONS I COULD EVER AQUIRE
DON'T MAKE ME ANY MONEY, THE WORLD DOESN'T HIRE
OF WHAT WORTH TODAY ARE THE POETS OF NATIONS
MIRED IN THE CLAY OF UNINSPIRED RELATIONS
SO MANY OF US ARE LOST AMID SOCIETY, AN ODDITY
RIDICULED FOR OUR EFFORTS, UNLESS THEY MAKE MONEY
IN OLDEN DAYS THERE WERE RESPECTED SCHOOLS
FOR US POOR SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF FOOLS
WE WERE THEN A RARE AND PRECIOUS BREED
HAPPILY FULFILLING SOCIETIES HUNGER AND NEED
NOW WHAT ARE WE, WHO HOLD PHILOSOPHY IN OUR SOULS?
WHO LIVE WITH MUSES, BERIFT OF USES OR GOALS
MY NAME MIGHT AS WELL BE DESPAIR
WHEN WILL THE WORLD SLOW DOWN, AND AGAIN CARE?
CARE ABOUT ITSELF, NOT PLEASURE OR PURSE
IF WE DON'T LEARN, I FEAR, IT'S ONLY GOING TO GET WORSE
AND THAT THE POINT OF IT ALL, AFTER IT ALL, WILL BE
MERELY THE PERIOD, AFTER THE " D "
THE END.
Opposite terms-poles-charges attract, like terms repel. In today’s world most people who
rampantly –constantly fight each other seem to have more in common than they can imagine.
Why?
Because if it is true that like terms repel it means that the people constantly fighting
are like terms that have so many things in common that’s why they fight. In other words
they have so many similarities-“identicalities” that’s why they fight.
For example
If in a house Peter and James are always constantly fighting, it must be because they both
always unintentionally happen to demand the same thing, wants especially not necessarily
in terms of needs but it could also be needs. Their approaches to things must be similar
which explains the reason for why they quarrel all the time.
But it is their choice because they can both choose to agree.
What happens when they eventually choose-decide to agree?
When they eventually agree, their bond-relationship-friendship might-would-could seem to
be as strong as their disagreement – but their disagreement and agreement can be in the
same proportion but can never have the same end result or product-sum total because the
sum total of their agreements-unity will be more than the sum total of their disagreements.
Hence they could end up becoming the best of friends.
In a world like ours both rules apply like terms repelling and unlike terms attracting but
as humans with our large, structured, orderly calculative and highly complicated brain
capable of calculating what a computer-robot cannot we should know better that the sum
total of our unity-agreements-synchrony is more than our competitions our disagreements.
So, we would be better off without disagreements, I mean business wise and other wise,
agreement would benefit us as a whole more than what our quarrels-wars leave us with.
Form:
time is a landscape , essence is a river, flowing nearly infinite
through the barren greenness of it.
without dams, though many rapids, twists, and turns
and waterfalls, where ones pulse races like the waters, that sparkle past the ferns
trees there are, growing upwards, to the bluest ever sky
the life of growing things, seeking ever up to reach, and even fly
pregnantly, eager and eternal skies await, to welcome each limb, as it climbs and grows
enfolding it in life, and love, enraptured in a beauty like a gods, and lovers rose
giving to a rough, and often crooked mortal thing, an eternal gift of love
as it grows, wreathed in leaves and bark, from the dirt to skies above
down below, upon the ground, we look up and marvel, seeing
a tree, but if we could open wider eyes, we would see a being
up, up, up above the ground, up above the world of us, and things
is a world of seeing, that time immeasurable to life, loving, brings
i climbed today, a hill, to see across the river, to the other shore
again, much like my heroes, exploring, always seeking to see more
and there, across the river, past a dim and distant shoreline
i saw a man, dressed much like me, though of darker, or maybe lighter, skin than mine
his eyes were closed, and he was sitting, 'pon a soft and shaded hill
with him was his wife, and family, sharing a picnic, as families will
i picture him, there sitting, looking in as so few do, among the lives we live
on a life and love, that reaches out around him, as even fewer, ones will give
seeing, without eyes(i's) what we could see with 'em if we chose
the world, and time, and people, like a book, one day will close
and knowing, perhaps in time, the reason for it all
is to stand among each other , standing...standing tall.
The world, colored in the sharp contrasting colors of black and white, grey in
between, shift into a blizzard every time emotions begin to turn, to burn and boil, to
freeze and foil, and once long lines of connecting breaths and hearts of bright red,
turn black and disappear into the grey background, one has lost their connection
with life.
To stab one in the back, to fight someone to the end, to kill or be killed, seem like
animal instinct, to destroy what could repeat history, but in truth, to forget and
forgive, to turn the other way, to sing out appraisals to enemies and to criticize
friends is what is the truth of life. One small mistake and all turn upon one.
Should one make a mistake, and take upon the anger and rage of the world, they
would obviously be destroyed, but wonder, would this happen to others, when
others begin to be suspected.
The human race is a strange species of suspicion, paranoia, greed, envy, and rage.
We kill to eat, like the beasts, but unlike the beasts, we kill for sport, for game, to
take the pride that the world gives us.
We know not humiliation, and we know not control, so history shall forever be
repeated, more of 'the ones' shall be killed, so we shall forever be a race of
Destruction an Death.
Even I, one who hates such thinking, do as the race of the world.
I feel paranoid, suspicion, greed, envy, and rage. I am merely human and I feel like
human.
And even now, at times, I feel terrible, to be what I am.
A destructive monster, wanting nothing more then to take my place in the world of
high places, wonderful, but empty praise, and even more empty smiles.
One must wonder, do you feel proud to be human?