Questions are proliferating,
people search for answers
in old pants pockets
in long discarded purses.
The scampering feet of baby philosophers
can be heard from the moon.
The media is stymied, they are manipulating,
confiscating and hiding behind the backs
of massively overgrown ballers,
willy-nilly they scribble an alternative reality
upon indoor swimming pools.
The manic mayhem of our daily grind
is wearing our hair thin,
Somebody should take control of the truth,
but it keeps dodging questions
and slamming doors behind it.
Mark my words with invisible ink,
scratch a cat behind its ears,
somersault all you like
but we are all getting overrun
by imperfect pontifications
by the indecent Doctors of spin.
and all this endless self-questioning
keeps replying over and over again
but only in unbreakable code.
Categories:
pontifications, poetry,
Form: Free verse
my logic in a tartan knapsack of my
scientific mind,
i searched until i found who
was who, looking for the
essence that is me
behind the pontifications of the
ego that would be mine
i traveled every well-known path
worn and frayed around the edges
until i was smooth as a
stone in the river of my being,
i trudged the meanings of what it means
to be until
i was immersed with every shade of green
in the constancy of an open heart
echoing pineapple winds of change
i thought love had died with God, the world
was so real with these divisions of humanity
that kill the soft-eyed child inside
and so i wandered within the silent room of awe
bestowed in resurrections and awakening
how on earth does Spring come forever
when i must die
in these passages through?
in these spinnings
balancing
my mind
ascending in awareness
but for the grace,
but for this magnificent obsession
unfolding this moment now here
all is déjà vu
all is my poem of how i came to be.
Categories:
pontifications, inspirational, introspection
Form: I do not know?