¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ understood, ¦¦¦ unknown ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ it was I ¦¦¦¦¦¦
Your devoted ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
First ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ gradually withdrawing ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ from you,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ I might ¦¦¦ be compelled to thank ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ silence ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ upon
Our ¦¦¦¦¦ Separation.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ my diseased soul. ¦¦¦ to cure it
You saw ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ knew my secret,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ I fled from you.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ our bodies rise ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
We kiss ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ the watchful hands
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ we shudder
For thinking ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
A soul that's cured is ¦¦¦ different ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ from memory
The ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ words, the searching ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ forever oblivious,
¦¦¦ so much ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ sorrow ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ of the ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ healed ¦¦¦
(Blackout of Harlan Sewall by Edgar Lee Masters)
leeches snacked on my back
get them off the other swimmers screamed
I loved watching their overreactions
not realizing my life was being drained
THE LOVE THAT IS LOST IN THE WORLD,
I DON'T THINK IT WILL EVER BE REGAINED TO SUSTAIN HUMANITY. ??
(JUST MY THOUGHTS)
I stand where silence threatens to consume,
The dark encroaches, hungering for claim,
Yet still I walk, unflinching in the gloom,
Unbent, unbroken, nameless though my name.
Oblivion waits with patient, endless hand,
Its shadows whisper promises of peace,
But I will not bow down to shifting sand,
Nor trade my breath for chains of sweet release.
The void may laugh, the stars may turn to dust,
The years may scatter like a broken flame,
But in my veins endures a stubborn trust,
A will no darkness ever yet could tame.
Though night is vast, and all is swept away,
I scorn the end, and claim my right to stay.
I saw her walking by the sea,
Her long hair blowing in the breeze.
Tall and so elegant was she.
I saw her walking by the sea;
She was oblivious of me,
Saw her, elegant, walking, oblivious
The first five lanes are from my poem "By The Sea" written 2024
oblivious with everything everywhere.
Sensitive to the atmosphere.
soaking in various conditioning.
oblivious with everything everywhere.
Animosity to desensitivity.
Emotions sound as if they were a symphony.
Sensitive to the atmosphere.
Perhaps it’s not here or there.
Suddenly arriving as an epiphany.
oblivious with everything everywhere.
possibly a hindrance of cheer.
In that moment a split decision.
Sensitive to the atmosphere.
Some extraordinaire
its innocent and sincere
oblivious with everything everywhere.
with every premiere
outlooks start cynical
Sensitive to the atmosphere
oblivious with everything everywhere.
Each living in their private world,
into which no one can enter,
within the cave of their heart curled,
are driven by thoughts that canter
but when flag of love is unfurled,
they recognise soul’s true centre.
Look at souls living by instinct,
fuelled by both desire and fear,
their head and heart not with love inked,
thus blocking God from drawing near,
until they are by angels winked,
which happens when truth is held dear.
In this lucid dream, what’s real,
save love’s touch and bliss beat’s appeal?
The present generation
spend most of their time
staring at a screen.
Either at work
at play
also inbetween.
She is oblivious to the fact
That she can make my mind Tedious
Which makes me furious
But imagining her smiling upon
Makes my heart troubled as ocean
On a stromy night
No, I'm not one of those who say, "It's nothing, it's collateral damage for just cause."
How much I regret this plight of conscience,
people walking around unmindful of the tragedy.
Have they no trace of humanity?
Are there no rules of war?
Is genocide allowed?
The spirit of contradiction marks the West, shattering tranquility of academic ivory towers, desperately requiring Nietzschean jailbreak; their sorrow is shallowest thing, they're afraid of their own shadow.
Look no further than Nazi atrocities,
are there no lessons from history?
Follow not the logic of occupiers, colonizing morality.
They color the silence of their tongues with crocodile tears.
When you’re here I am oblivious to the cold, I feel warm.
When you are around, I am oblivious to the raging storm.
It just makes a nice ambiance for us to snuggle you see.
It doesn’t matter if you burn the toast, it tastes good to me.
Some overnight visitors have tactfully told me you snore.
This is news to me, my darling I am oblivious once more.
When you fail to offer help when I am quite snowed under,
I never seem to mind, don’t care, I keep my thoughts asunder.
Grass so long, as one walks through it, may be afraid of snakes.
But I am oblivious to the little amount of effort mowing takes.
Also oblivious to the state of our car when I take it for a drive.
I pick up the food and shoo out the flies, the ones that are alive.
I am so glad for the word oblivious, and it’s Constance I must thank.
I may not have thought of this word if I hadn’t opened my think tank.
Imagine if Oblivious became I BLAME YOU, what would I have thought?
It might get so serious. Our next destination would be a divorce court.
The bird soars, oblivious to the wind beneath its wings
The fish swims, oblivious to the water in the sea
Humans experience this life much the same
Obliviously
Our desires to understand and seek truth are unimportant
We’re content with our feelings and socially constructed lies
We take for granted the blessing that we were born
And try to convince ourselves that in our final death, we somehow find life
As the last grain of sand drops into the bottle
We become aware the rivers are running dry
Unmoored by this unique opportunity
Oblivious, we die
He sits in a corner
Motionless and still
Hiding from an enemy
Refusing to kill
Beaten and battered
Alone in this game
Afraid to show himself
For reasons like shame
Golden hair fibers
Resting on top
Oblivious to life
The voices won't stop
They walk and they run
They pay him no mind
While fighting off demons
That have plagued his mind
Torn are his clothes
Rotten are his teeth
Ribs for a stomach
Legs without meat
They mock
They make fun of
Not knowing his strength
If they knew what they tell him
They'd not call him weak
In an attempt to save others
He takes his own life
He stood there in silence
Not one stopped
Not one cried.
R.K.H.
whims may become a blessing or a curse
pushing one toward certain ruin or worse
drinking from the deep well of evasion
well versed in dark practices of persuasion
fixating on dreams of what ought to be
avoiding what mirrors reality
totally free of social encumbrances
in spite of what the best assumption is
wandering through this life oblivious
hiding from anything too obvious
urge to be free of all expectation
jumped right into without hesitation
do not question need to swallow it whole
subtle art of self-induced mind control
You hear a scream
And you ascribe it to a cat.
You see the prints
Of tiny feet and larger hooves,
And you discount
The likelihood that they were shoes
Just ordered fresh from Amazon.
You never see a thing by day;
They hold their breath as you walk by
Or simply hide behind a tree.
Those cans of beer
That were discarded near the road,
The ones with matching sets of holes?
You didn’t stop to ask yourself
Why they are there and there are no
Tracks from a car or from a truck
Since it last rained
And washed the silt out in the street.
You give no thought
There might be creatures of the night,
But if you did,
It would explain an awful lot,
Like why you can’t find any of
The tools you swore you had put back,
And why your dog
will growl with all her might
At all those creatures of the night.
—————
For the Creatures of the Night poetry contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward
Written on 06/11/2022
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