It's still here
That gentle touch
That soft kiss on the lips
Those soft kisses all over
That tender cheek on cheek
Finger tips passing softly and lightly over smooth skin
I have not forgotten
How could I? This is the essence, my essence
But it's not needed again
And so the young man who was willing to give so much
Must sleep now
Not die, just sleep
It's a mechanistic life now
That's what they all like
That's what they all worship
To-do lists
New things to buy
New things to clean
Renovation after renovation to the home
This breaks and that breaks, and I fix
Let's eat more
Let's buy more
Let's have more silly stupid useless conversations
What a shame!
For I still know where to touch
And how much pressure to place
And how slowly to drag my fingers across
Sleep now young man, just sleep
I will awaken you when, or if, you are needed again
Categories:
mechanistic, longing,
Form: Free verse
In long winters
when curious bears hibernate,
When even those few songbirds left behind
are stoically silent
at their least amorous time,
When uneven bare trees and bushes
retire into aptic
dormant
deep naked entropy,
It is sad seasonally appropriate
to barely live outside robotic,
lethargic, biotic bionic
frozenly mechanistic
and yet deeply empathic,
simultaneously.
Then springs Spring!
Let synaptic mania
swell up again,
Open the windows
and darkening doors
to set this home and love
in fresh-incoming sappy order
Resiliently resonant enough
to last through sweltering dog days
of co-empathic musky slumbering
buzzing
drowsy summer,
fat with greens
united,
and not uncuriously uniform.
Categories:
mechanistic, depression, emotions, sad, seasons,
Form: Free verse
A poet lost for words with writer’s block and barrage
Playing with Lego in Copenhagen
Anderson’s mermaid hard on the rock
Casting away the human soul
The artist failing construction in a mechanistic world
Retrieving Meccano
The pea shooter’s jammed and sour gun
Squirting marmalade
A philosopher's dislike of wisdom
Playing in Epicures’ garden
A pantomime screaming at a Buddhist retreat
Having a silent make over
The adult child lost in fun and peculiar games
Anticipating adoration
Homebound heaven’s firmament
Right below some funny grounds
22th July 2018
Categories:
mechanistic, encouraging,
Form: Free verse
pizza and nicotine
another hungover morning
beneath the thanatosphere
threading through the beige stone walls
and passing by the cloth puppets
blinking away in profuse greeting
living is but linen swaddling
eating is but nourishing plastic
nights are twinkling reds and yellows
in mechanistic majesty
angels are hovering nearby
but only the dogs can hear them
the sound of our soul
is ten thousand different songs
playing all at once, however
there are billions of people
and billions of machines
Categories:
mechanistic, morning, music, technology,
Form: Free verse
Soul Genocide
No less a word than the last
for putting to rest the syllable
for every man a creed a cult
No final philosophy to last
Who can tell when the world ends
for the strong and the bold
for those who stand all alone
No better might their word lends
The last wise man who stood apart
for four noble truths in eight paths
for what may he have gone away
If prophets rain and never depart
Every age brings new divinizing calls
for saints bloodied in mad blabber
for what may holy rites wash away
If the world turns on mechanistic balls
If every man sought the painful path
for his depraved soul and the world’s
for the sake of every child’s hunger
Who may not reject nibbhana in wrath
Right paths or wrong paths we decide
for better or worse in this life
for the children forced to survive
Better hellfire than the souls’ genocide
From the privately pub. coll. : longhand notes (a binding of poems), 1999, 115p.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, July 1999/2016
Categories:
mechanistic, humanity, life, world,
Form: Quatrain
Me... closed box... death hangs*,
Heartless dreamers can't see in
Bastards! Am I dead?
Poet's Notes:
A famous thought experiment in Physics in which the life or death of Schridinger's
Cat (an imaginary animal) in a box depends on unpredictable chance. The
experiment unimpeded, the cat will die, the question is only when. The larger
issue however, is that since no one can see what has actually happened, the
actual state of the cat is unknown and hence can only be discussed in terms of
the probability of the cat being either dead or alive. And probability ends the
earlier mechanistic view of both God and His creation. God is no longer black and
white, color has returned to His cheeks.**
* hangs - like the sword of Damocles, capable of falling randomly at any instant.
** see my earlier poem 'Black Body' for an even more poetic discussion.
Categories:
mechanistic, nature,
Form: Haiku
Where's the zeal in being a zealot?
Single minded entities always
Forcing, pushing, constantly attack.
Keep your sick. altered, mechanistic
Ideals far away from me.
Thanks but no, I can think for myself,
No need for your help
Feels like the Crusades- believe or die
Look and see I’ll never be
Your brainwashed puppet
Categories:
mechanistic, anger, pollution,
Form: Carpe Diem
Drained to my very heart by our slow-paced arrival,
I wander through tasteless decor to the metal arches
Beyond which a future is unfurled.
My bag’s innards are spilled like blood in the Bible
Before the cold gaze of the armed man who marches;
He holds the key to this new world.
The mechanistic arch stands and takes quasi-sentience
Beside passport control, piercing my finely popped
Eardrums with sonic solemnity.
I am refused by technology but stagger forward hence
Into baggage claim where a suitcase pile is propped
Up like a holiday Tetris calamity.
My suitcase is soul black and with difficulty is found,
In its lucid eagerness to fasten itself a faux family;
Airports are filled with pretences.
Now we are away again, small trolley safe and sound,
On the road from snow, heat is where I plan to be.
Our intrepid journey commences...
Categories:
mechanistic, adventure, courage, dream, faith,
Form: Verse
Personal trainer pasttime profession
Oscilalliting
Explosion of love and life
And massive mechanistic strain
of Money and management
What comes
Of this personal pride?
Stubborn bootcamp bellows
My soul in arears
Transmitting the dance and exchange
Who needs
The service of muscle and nerves
My urgent truncating peace
Chomping this temporary meet and greet
Categories:
mechanistic, art, business,
Form: Ballad
In the beginning,
there was nothing but darkness...
where chaos ruled with it's unruly force,
smashing collisions,pulverized debri,directionless matter,
in a constant destructive malady...
We call this darkness,evil,
but what it is,is chaos...
disorder and confusion,
disarray at it's most turbulent
a neverending dark storm...
Then came time...when light appeared,
to guide this matter into an orderly fashion,
mechanistic motion also appeared as time...
this matter has only reflected the light,
like the moon,but like the moon,
the darkside keeps us in darkness...in chaos,
and like moths to a flame,
we are attracted to that light,
which is a reflection of our desire...
The war for resources,is our chaotic fate...
Categories:
mechanistic, allegory, philosophy
Form: I do not know?