Long Solipsism Poems
Long Solipsism Poems. Below are the most popular long Solipsism by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Solipsism poems by poem length and keyword.
Sirens sounded secretly securing source. Strait sacks swooshed scamps scaling sensitive sentries (simply spayed seals) surveying surrounding staked spy sotted sham semicircular slipshod shelter. Snappy, Snippy, Snoopy suited Skyhawks surprisingly swooped somnambulant senseless scriveners. Sargent Salemander slipped shiny shimmering shellacked Sheppards Shutterfly sidearms sized simulated small skyscraper slinky, soapy, spooky squarely summoned, sentenced, sacrificed see swarthy Samsonite satraps Section SpecialOps.
Sometime soon savior snuck stealthily stealing sinful schleppers. sundown syzygy saw serendipitous, surreptitious, surreptitious segue-way shuttled safely Scottish shoals. Stigmatization stayed steady. Supplication statements swatted. Sole survivor swiftly spun self shaming sesquipedalian soliloquy. Sea side serenade soon spewed solipsism saving Slim Shady.
Sayonara seminal surfer swirling scarily sans sinister serpentine silent space.
But Freud could not vouch
For one lying on his couch
It’s God, our mind’s He unlocks
To wrestle with this paradox
This ambivalence
For the world fixes stints
For lungs that need air
For a heart needs repair
This is what we’re left with
No life, just a death kiss
At atheistic insistence
And with ambivalent resistance
There’s prejudicial conjecture
There’s personal conjecture
But no absolute or objective truth
You don’t need to be a sleuth
With subjectivity solicited
Two intellectual sins committed
Arbitrariness and inconsistency
Condition critical insistency
Circumspectly we point this out
Without a doubt, we don’t flout
Compare two worldviews
(as atheist’s hit the snooze)
We share the Gospel with the hostel
With no subterfuge or solipsism
No false religion’s systems or schisms
The 2nd Coming will be the loudest day
The trumpet sounds, the saintly strain
Will w/Jesus comeback with no foray
The final stop for the Gospel train
Unclimbed Stairways
by Odin Roark
At the base of the stairs
He lay on his back
Upon his chest
He propped his hero
Peering up through GI Joe’s
Stand-your-ground stance
All seemed climbable
Just like in the movies
But he knew
Summit of the stairs
Was the attic
That frigid place
Lures of the forbidden
With air suffocating its captivity
Like his mother warned
Such was the explanation
Penned studiously by the doctor
Connecting the dots
Of thirty years subsequent
The strategy of solipsism
Where more forbidden climbs
Ensnared him with madness
And a padded enclosure
The doctor thought he had control
But the man/boy knew
In front of him
Just a mother in a cheap suit
Warning
Always warning
Was Van Gogh warned?
Was David Foster Wallace warned?
Is the next Hoffman going to be warned?
Check your stairways
To the bathroom
Safe
To your bedroom
Probably safe
To the attic of adult life
Oh my
Caution
Or
Instinct
Here we go
Could chronic stress,
like sleep deprivation,
noise and light and air pollution
also derive
by avoiding barely still alive
high-risk trauma messes?
Sometimes sadly beginning
prior to economic and political puberty
Including multi-generational suppression
misogynistic sex tensions
and monotheistic depression
and homophobic repression,
hateful Othering paranoid impressions,
chronic monocultural climate despair,
uncivil disinvested oppressions
Endarkened
by a popular FirstWorld
anthro-privileged
secularizing, dividing, dissociating
evolutionary theory
of mutual assured predation
damnation
degenerating ecosystemic deflation,
ecocidal extinction
of once sacred synergetic EarthLove
elation
Or at least
co-empowering messianic missions
for restoring EarthJustice
mental ego-health is physical eco-wealth
co-relations.
So, go on
all RightWing
WrongHeaded;
service yourself!
But
I doubt you will find
your God's RightHand solipsism
resiliently satisfying
much less sacredly edifying.
Uncovering ecofeminists
and recovering peace mediators
are done being your ***** punishing bag!
Your indigenous justice
community resonance hag!
Did I hear that out loud?
Oh, any polypathic way,
Does chronic lifetime-anxiety disorder,
win/lose competitive stress,
contribute to multi-generational high-risk trauma histories?
Sometimes beginning long before adult maturing transition
from Either/Or fundamentalist childlike conditions
not Both/And exploring inside/outside
neuro-sensory double-boundaries
in-between healthy, mature win/win resonance
and lose/lose despairing dissonance,
positively and negatively
therapeutically and traumatically
correlated
In older adults
sometimes producing increased market risks
and opportunities of dementia,
with unfortunate paranoid demise
Rather than fortunate co-invested
peaceful
pleasured
mindbody post-traumatic surprise
of warm unconditional outcomes
in win/win Paradise.
living in this flagitious society life becomes numb
yet we extrapolate irrespective reality till we become dumb
mental break downs and frivolous exercises of intellectual contempt
permeates a paradigmatic volition of unparsimonious content
we are axiomatic in our subjective minds as we conceptualize truths
but preconceived notions poison and impede the capacity of our fruits
berayed by the thick insulating cover of vitriolic and obligatory words
you can see with more than our eyes and hear more than whats heard
virtue and value will hurt you in battle
as expression and intention fight for domain
necessity and certainty like humans and cattle
like pride and despair both going insane
miraculous recoveries and extravagant claims
cognitive faculties misfiring as the mind refuses to aim
lost in translation as we wander our brains
a mental castration of parabolic restrains
feelings, opinions and emotions all subjective and chained
like a broken track on a bridge made for a 4,000 ton train
we refuse to abide by the laws in our hearts
as we accept solipsism in whole and in part
judgmental determinist with a maniacal skill
to violate logic and ignore the freewill
you recapitulate hate and promulgate lies
like maggots on a carcass embedded by flies
you are dead in your thoughts and dead in your walk
Trace the outline of your body with a forensic white chalk
to be dead in your mind is to be dead inside time
and if life is subjective theres no reason or rhyme
Written: July 5th 2024 For Edward Ibah contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We didn't wish to climb afar and face rattlesnakes.
Sanguine torrents cling to an impact for life's sake.
A ferrous soul gulps to be coveted as I decry.
Pearl Rivulets will smile if my name arises after I die.
Horrific epiphany may I be an independent man?
Having the charm of a heart to incite a warm span.
How could I escape the cryptic cenotaph misery?
And how my life can brim vermilion vesication jittery.
Escorting as a scarlet orb underneath the surface?
A rebellious breach of nectar threatens my life.
That elevated me from Venus thrall to strife.
Yet the battle was doomed to fail furnace.
O bestow upon me a heart of gold.
Through the tangled web of stings, withhold
And relieve the pollen pain that keeps me down.
Raising the radius of a field by slowing the iris crown.
I have a jar of venom at Fastigium or Acme.
Pulchritude lips fall on a mirror in front of her.
Etching her jailed irade within a tenebrous lair.
I can't bear her veil of solipsism to drag me.
My feral nature shatters reality into a kaleidoscope.
None will offer a free zenith or a thrilling scry scope.
I will be driven into styx abyss if I sit and dream.
Rage will ruin me as soft linen on the insane seam.
Ferrous flavor fetches my soul into a frightful scoff.
My zenith is over; I am ready for an elf metamorph.
My lost spirit is drifting away in the maelstrom.
After pure bliss, it's time to escape this chthonic dorm.
It comes not when it's wanted,
because it's never wanted--
who would choose hanging
folds of skin, a face creased
with scores of age lines, feet
speckled with spider veins, an
aging heart that could yell
'Surprise!' any time it chose.
An actress once said, 'Getting old
is not for sissies'-- she was right.
It takes guts to feel the gradual
loosening of a once proud body,
and the brain's slow softening.
There is no glory in getting old:
you are just a survivor of life's
myriad tricks, all its accidents,
illnesses, petty defeats and loss.
And old age does not carry wisdom
with it as you might expect-- there
are many tart in youth still bitter in
their slowing down decades, even
hostile to the joys they might once
have hoped to swim in, carefree....
So why must we get old? What use
is it, other than nature making room
for other beings to replace us? Still,
why can't we live for centuries like
old trees, or those big turtles found
on that island with the funny name?
Perhaps it is a way to teach us, to
cure the young of their solipsism,
to shear them of the innate vanity
that comes of taut bodies and soft
handsome faces-- then to plant the
subtle fears that come with aging:
the vulnerability of unlived dreams,
trashed hopes, perhaps the quiet,
persistent ache of a lost love...
not to mention the fear of falling!
So if you are a young reader
of this old poet, you may ask,
'What? Nothing comes good
of a long life? No hope at all?'
Oh yes, something very good
can come from a long decline,
at least for those who choose
to believe-- anticipation!
Some think that the initial spark was certainly God given
If you accept the concept of free will I'll give you that
Some blink and think that all man's gain is surely striven
I think and therefore I am among the ones who know no one can know
For sure and so I choose to go in thought somewhere I know
I must rely on what I see for what I state in fact and don't react
To what I can't relate to anything outside my mind as mine alone
When inner dialog is represented as a matter then, of course
Discourse recourse will be dismissed as lacking any standing
The audience is left with less demanding understanding
Handing tending of the fire to the arsonists for hire
With ready fire as their aim midst claims to have a plan
I OPENED A DOOR
IN THE UNIVERSE ,
THAT DOESN'T EXIST ,
AND NEVER EXISTED.
I FOUND MYSELF STANDING ,
IN THE OCTAGON ,
OF THE IMAGINATION.
UNDERSTANDING THAT
IMAGINATION IS ESSENTIAL ,
TO UNLEASHING OUR TRUE
POTENTIAL , I UNLEASHED
MY CURIOSITY OF IMAGINATION
IN EVERY DIRECTION.
IN SEARCH OF WISDOM
AND KNOWLEDGE.
UNDERSTANDING
I AM NOT THE FATHER
OF SOLIPSISM.
I AM NOT THE CENTER
OF THE UNIVERSE NOR AM I
THE CREATOR.
IF THE ABILITY TO THINK
IS A MENTAL ABILITY ,
THE INABILITY TO THINK
BECOMES A MENTAL DISABILITY.
IF IMAGINATION IS THE SIMPLEST
FORM OF THINKING ,
THE INABILITY TO IMAGINE
MAKING A DECISION
WITHOUT THINKING FIRST ,
IS NO DIFFERENT
THAN THE INABILITY TO THINK.
CONFORMITY IS NOT
THINKING FOR YOURSELF.
IT'S ALLOWING OTHERS
TO THINK FOR YOU.
AS IF YOU DO NOT HAVE
THE ABILITY TO THINK
FOR YOURSELF.
SO THE REAL DIFFERENCE
BETWEEN THE SO CALLED
HAVES AND THE HAVE NOTS ,
GOES BEYOND THE
BARRICADES OF IMAGINATION
WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT.
BEWARE THE IMAGINATION
DISGUISED AS FANTASY
LIVING A LIFE OF VISUALIZATION
IN A REALITY THAT DOES NOT
EXIST.
Michael E. Harris
03222022
i.....
don't know.....
man oh man.....
why does it ake.....
friggin crappolla now a mistake.....
nuthin aches it all just takes.....
nuthin so that means talk about whatever!?.....
anything from something to nothing and that is.....
all that's left on the how to do page.....
so now it's time to creatively shut down the memory.....
andt....
fly by.....
instinct of words.....
sounds and spellings played.....
to think and feel a.....
music called poetry of times being.....
something that is legibly of conscious perceptions....
that is not solipsism but a deeper view.....
in which a being of self constants means relativity.....
shapes the world not solipsistic composers not learning by ear......
stan sand (piled : )