Long Suppositions Poems
Long Suppositions Poems. Below are the most popular long Suppositions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Suppositions poems by poem length and keyword.
We are all improbable in our own way,
and who can augur the future?
I never could have laid out my course in advance,
though in looking back it all makes sense,
even if it was me flipping a coin (or if somebody flipped it for me).
Hindsight smooths the probabilistic waves,
and here I sit, having cast the coin,
having had the coin in pocket,
having gotten change at an early age,
the cashier having had a drawerful of metal,
the mint having stamped to its heart's content,
the metallurgists having had their smiles,
the miners having ground fault wiles,
the cosmos having performed admirably, elementally.
Here I sit, tonight's chautauqua taking place in a goblet of garnet, yea - a very phrontistery of fuchsia. Far be it from me to understate the euphonious manner in which the cork leapt from the bottle, the Olympian olfactory embrace, the bathykolpian brand of this elixir. The wind outside the window - what is it telling me? Am I entangled, unawares, in my ebullience, a ptarmic influence in the decoction escaping my notice? Am I blind to the greater reality, my words falling like amaurotic husks to the ground? Or, that given ground, does it emit the mephitic essence? Is this the supernatural revenge of some aspect of the wine's terroir, rendering the drinker typhlotic to the usufruct of this very forum, to an iatrogenic principle at work? Are we held at bay by external sternutatory Influence, all our self-reliant suppositions trumped by errhine externals?
Here I sit, wondering if 'tis no more than the contest of the Ego, Superego, and Id, grinding against one another in tribologic sculpting. Or is a spiteful, chthonian influence at work, stemming from that same terroir? Can the wine be blamed? Can we cry out, apotropaically, to rescue ourselves? Are conscious forces arrayed against us, or are we our own worst enemy? Is there a soil/soul for a wine? And is it only a fancy of Fortuna that I sit here tonight, deterministic tendrils floating around me in a manner that threaten my assumptions? Am I free of myself, or is there no such thing as such freedom? In the end, do all things come to one? Obfuscatory clarity - yes, I know, and peace won't sleep in the transparent bottom of my glass.
so many unknown variables to consider for such a tasking pursuit
a conditional ‘If’ but what if ‘whether’ reigns in a supreme challenge
conjectures battle refutations and synapses blocked in surrender
as long as suppositions succeeded in their hypothetical contemplation
the world may as well be flat and circle unhappily one of its moons
the ‘I’ would be futile a self negating deprecation on auto-destruct
and endless loop of no Self on a path to nowhere and nothingness
not of Buddha like Nirvana but hell on earth as we know it too well
a spinning confusion of gravity with levitation spared its flight of fancy
when meditation and pondering could not lift the soul above the mind
‘ruling’ that wishes to overcome suppression domination and power
appears a futile concept when freedom should be the ultimate aim
of course anarchy holds its merits but people cling to being governed
by false leaders fake news and an insatiable need for crude abdication
in an attempt to cast responsibility and shred all courage and hope
‘the’ poses the question of this or that where and when whether at all
a simple adverbial adjective refusing to rest on quiet incomplete duty
bereft of solitary meaning and such an imposter of clarity and precision
no stand alone metaphor of context and contingency lost in the process
but the planet needs answers and I do not give up easily if besieged
is there a ‘world’ out there a compass and globe in my restless attempts
to understand question emphasize deconstruct and give a sweet home
to live up to its promises and dreams as opposed to terminal decline
word has it that there are only illusions betrayal and survival of the fittest
engulfed in delusions conflagrations raging inferno straight from its core
‘I’ if it was able to resist compartmentalization of Ego Super Ego and Id
might not want the elusive generational torch snuffing out a last breath
maybe I am overthinking under emoting and have surrendered in vain
to lost beauty and a vacuum of distant echoes of an unforeseeable future
therefore I conclude that if I was the ruler I would ask my kids for advice
14th August 2020
The Big Bang Theory and others devised.
Professors armed with latest editions.
Soon, teach as facts; oh, faith of youth revised.
Inspired, common suppositions.
Biblical creation too soon capsized.
Unaware, youth accepts false traditions.
Half-truths and questions upon young minds flay.
It irks me; I saw my faithfulness stray.
Had God finished his work in seven days?
But fields of plants and herbs had not been formed!
Had Adam not yet met his earthly phase?
That contradiction through my faith once stormed.
And countless questions set my soul ablaze.
Is Chapter two of Genesis malformed?
I prayed for answers; turned again to faith.
Pondering, wondering until Christ’s waith.
Inklings energized my logical mind.
For Genesis, decoding must be found. *
One’s faith in God never has to be blind!
Ask many questions with thoughts heaven bound.
Upon my brain, some secret truths would bind.
Before too long, the logic came around.
Yes, answer found, years ago; set me free.
Those first days began molecularly.
By searching fact and theory my trust grew.
I prayed for wisdom as I pondered life.
Past doubtful years had sent my faith askew.
Those days watched science lace my heart with strife.
But, God above would see my trust renew.
With deepest thought a helpful book was penned.
Genesis Decoded, brought faith, again.
I know there is a God who made all things.
Laws of physics and each atom show his force.
Genetics explored God’s created string.
Now, scientists have altered nature’s source.
Relativity, the Theory, God sings,
Molecules are moving along their course.
So let us feel and know wherein truth lies.
Upon the facts, not schemes, forever cries.
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: Don't write for the contest, Contest
Sponsored by: Vicky Tsiluma
Ó January 26, 2014
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
* http://www.redbubble.com/people/daneann/writing/3355478-genesis-decoded
ALSO SEE http://www.redbubble.com/people/daneann/writing/3479742-bridging-the-
gap-between-science-and-religion-the-hypothesis
PSYCHOLOGY OF SELF
You fear what you fail to understand,
The many versions of love portrayed;
The depth of distrust, disloyalty and pain,
Causing a freeze at the mere thought of it;
To live in fear of being vulnerable,
Having another in charge of your decisions,
A most scary thought, still......
Trust
That, which is feared,
Yet an integral part of any relation.
You question, out of a need to know,
To better understand, to gain knowledge,
Yet to have theories proven wrong,
One must first be ready to have opinions negated;
Be comfortable with being wrong,
Be unclear with the picture of your suppositions,
And about that which you flee from,
I choose to believe is the fear of losing control,
Of having someone else be in your thoughts,
In ways you cannot cannot control.
Your fear, though not unfounded,
Yet not totally grounded,
Still,
You run to the very thing that chases you,
Like one looking to avoid "ying" by seeking "yang",
You chase after what you term security,
But you are only most secure in first appreciating self,
Forgiving self, and loving self,
Enough to know your true worth,
Thus refuse to settle for what belittles.
Do you know YOU,
Enough to decide what is good for YOU.
Do mood swings, become comfort zones,
A hiding place, a never never land;
A place to retreat,
Where fortifications hold fast,
With no fear of being breached,
Where darkness becomes a cloak,
Mystery a preoccupation,
All of which YOU alone do to YOU.
So my question to your unspoken thoughts,
Do you truly need to be saved,
When in truth you imprison yourself,
Your existence an open penal institution,
When you can take the walk to freedom,
To find love and acceptance,
Understanding and belonging,
For your search will never truly end,
Your desires, be ne'er truly fulfilled,
Until you come to the simple realisation,
That only one opinion matters.... YOURS.
What splendid creatures God has formed.
I think of whales who swim above the silt,
giants of the sea that are cruelly harmed,
harpooned from life by men without guilt.
An industrious creature God has made
in the miniscule form of the worker ant,
hustlers gathering, never rest in the shade
while lazy people complain in angry rant.
What grievances men perpetually bemoan
with their fingers ever stretched for a handout.
In line for freebies while holding a new cell phone,
taking what they can; that's what they're about.
No notion or thought that giving is the better way.
We're the greediest animals this planet has ever seen.
Whales could easily crush the biggest ship in the bay,
and ants are busy keeping their home safe and clean.
Is there some lesson to be learned from ant and whale?
They lack free will and we can't hear what they speak.
Ants and whales commit no crimes sending them to jail.
Is it no wonder then, the future of mankind is so bleak?
Land is man's home, but we invade the depths of the sea
where whales swim and feed exactly where they should be.
What fear would mankind have if it had been God's decree
to let whales come ashore to roam among you and me?
What thought do we give for stepping upon little ants?
Even the red ones don't bother us until we annoy them.
If those insects took revenge and crawled up our pants,
would we have new respect and avoid living in mayhem?
You might think my words are ridiculous suppositions
but take a moment for some serious contemplations.
Whales don't hunt us; ants live in underground conditions.
Doesn't that make us a world of aggressive nations?
This morning at (long) last something-I was robbed in a way I was fearful curious about. What happened?!
Pickpockets are a myth, almost everyone I know have an experience-with.
Pickpocket by definition "a person who steals from the pockets or handbags of others in public places"*Pick pocketing is a crime that in my universe has some nobility because the thief uses no violence or coercion but in a slightly surreptitious furtively steel with the help of a pal carrying away one goods. The stolen item, a "deluxe" half pack of cigarettes whom he could add a wallet with ID's and a dozen dollars. The freakish part is that I track the embezzlement not thinking about any wrongdoing. Reading my daily paper in a coffee shop what pops in an unintended touch far from suspicion putting me wondering for a second and after returning to the usual awakening routine.
A block away when reaching for the pack and after obsessively looking for it, suppositions and hypothesis popped then the understanding. My imaginary fictitious person is true and despite unacceptable and inadmissible is kind of an art. I cannot identify the perpetrators but know exactly when it happened. The errand quickness done with mastery technique and the little loss increase my awareness to this lower members of the crime world that I still find enigmatic.
*Dictionary.com
Hypothetical supposition
If is such an enormous word
it's so loud and heard
beyond realities real if I had known
if for so long
I would not have uttered it out of my mouth
may even thought wrong
I don't understand the questions ifconditional clause
in the event of that despite the possibilities
what up why is that no matter whether it comes or goes
if is the biggest word ever spoken and here goes
~
If a condition stipulation, what's the question
many ifs allow and answer
I express a strong condition either in if
an order or command
unto the condition
If is in a conjunction
and or is a noun most used as conjunction
to connect two clauses
Hypo thetical super suppositions
if it's such an enormous word
it's so loud and heard beyond reality is real
if I had known it for so long I would have not
uttered it out of my mouth, so I spill
~
The one thing that I know
that it do if can will or might happen or so to be true
Messages questions wondering wonder hypothetical superposition the biggest word you ever heard is...- IF
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023
7/27/23
In acknowledging a moment
In appeasing friends' and relatives' real-time expectations
Yarns of lies
Were spread evenly on our fields of gold
Like a spider we spun, spin and map our web of mistruth
We build layers upon layers of suppositions
Some would say
Its mainly for our protection
Some would smirked and claimed
Its their birth right bright rite entitlement
:) :) :) ;)
And would boast on their supposed cleverness
On a platform socially welcomed
As the ultimate medium
If lie was the new truth
I rather be on my own
I rather not having plastic friends for my company
For when we professed lie as the new truth
We read ourselves
As a book created to preach on rhetorical ideals
Meteorical actualization
After sacrificing every available greens we set our eyes on
Standing on the highest peak
Stark naked
Wearing nothing but our fractal nano-clothing
Grinning happily at our make-believe achievement
It's just that this time
Not a single kid would care to point out the obvious
For they too
Too occupied with their artificial tangible cold handheld iron
The invisible hand had ceased to make its grand entrance
Fool's folly fulfilled
Triumph to the masses
Easy to entrance the sycophants watch their helpless dance their back and forth swaying and swooning, in cunnilingual somniloquence.
Droning and drooling with flattering and fawning, turgently swelling, spouting placating pleasantries, a mess of gushing adulation.
Self exultation, craving congratulation by consensus for another conventional sensation, clamouring for congratulation in lurid inflated infatuation.
Curtailing castigation, striving in strides as pedestrian asperation gives rise to typical inspiration, stillted it saunters soulessly, provoking predicable platitudes.
Dreary dedication denoting the humdrum and the ho-hum, tirelessly tiring, offering effortlessly banal bestowments bequeathing a tepid tranquillising testimonial.
Uniform, unchanged, unilateral applause, amplifying abysmal analogies, articulating dearth depictions of derivative denotations.
Cryptic quips collapse carelessly caused by cumbersome correlating contradictions, deviating detrimentally forth fatuous flutterings.
Stale sentiment, sterile superfluous suppositions, garishly guilded in grandure,
Repetitious rudimentary ruminations, repackaged and retold.
WEIGHTLESS
More often than not, you clutch tightly,
The very things that weigh you down;
Beliefs, suppositions, fears and so much doubt,
You line the lie of being emancipated,
When in actual fact, freedom is alien to you.
You define yourself by others' standards,
Struggle to fit in, when the simple truth is,
Every individual created is a blueprint,
A unique creation, with quirts and kinks,
That makes you who you really are.
You fail to look up, turn to the creator,
Ignore the consult of the compendium,
To a discovery of one's true self,
Instead of the falsity of a likeness,
Imitate, forgetting there exist no facsimiles.
ME is an opportunity to introduce to the world,
Your beliefs and all that makes you distinct,
a chance to stand out and not be defined,
By standards of what right is, or by anyone else.
Defy norms: An existence outside the box
Be as light as a feather, Be you
Knowing there's only this one life to live
To live it full, live it well, live it free, live it good
And look back decades from now with nary a regret
For you have lived................WEIGHTLESS