Questioner Poems | Examples

Who Is My Neighbour?

Who is my neighbour? Asked you, a supposed expert in law
Did he know that testing you is like a Babelian flaw?
Being Christ, you knew well that his faith was like a dry reed.
With a breeze of common man's compassion, you shook his creed.

From Jerusalem to Jericho, a man travelled, you said. 
Bandits beat him up, looted his wealth, and left him half-dead 
Did the priest, though he witnessed him dying, reach him out? Nay.
The Levite too, though he might have felt pity, went his way.

One who was thought to be, in the social ladder, the least
A Samaritan brought back his life that was almost ceased.
He nursed him as though he was losing his only friend.
Shouldn't, before his love, divisions of caste and creed bend?

This was true love. He's the true neighbour. Go and do the same.
The questioner felt his frail question fail and stood in shame.

MY TRUTHS - not for contest

Truth be told I don’t have many
Truths…that is
My beliefs have changed
Over the years
Not always for the better
According to some
Who hold their “truths” paramount.
I tell those people
“I am what you made me”

It’s been said that
I have no filters
Will say whatever runs
Screaming through my mind
My parry and thrust
Usually involves subtle
Quixotically imbued ideas
As I bear scars from battling windmills.

I have learned to
Question the question
Question the questioner
Question why they asked
That question
In that way
At that time

I also learned from my dogs
“sniff it, if it stinks
Don’t bother to chew on it”
I haven’t mastered the licking thing
But I do clean up after myself.

In a world where we do not exist

Are we feeble form or are we fickle mind
or perhaps neither since both are doomed to die?
To discern the truth, we left concepts behind
and chose to plunge in the void and wingless fly.
In time, our soul’s eternal light we did find,
recognising life’s a dream and death a lie.
Thus when asked, what happens if we don’t exist,
we ask the questioner, what in dreams they missed.

We are pure consciousness, we are living light,
although for the moment, we are caged in form
but having seen the truth by spherical sight,
in the core of our soul, betwixt bliss beats warm,
knowing the truth, why would we now crouch in fright,
when all we need to do, is simply conform,
to whispers of love as impulsed by our heart,
as presence feels therein bliss ignition start?

One with God, inseparable from the whole,
the question then is, of wave versus ocean,
meaning that as we go about our life role,
mistaken we’re form, creating commotion,
which feature of the ocean does heart extol,
when it is the collective whole in motion?
There is in truth no one here, save an ego,
a bubble of illusion, we must forgo.

Who Am I

small dot centred within
a circle of infinite radius

we are both
both are one

the questioner disappears

Oracle and Querent Diamante

Oracle
The Wise, Mystical
Blessing, Spellcasting, Foretelling
Black Sorcerer, Divine, Innocent, Questioner
Listening, Ingesting, Participating
Curious, Wonderer
Querent

Tuesday, January 4, 2022

Qanon Poison

Panic mongers, hate mongers,
                  traffickers in groupthink. 
The key to the universe,
	you must never let facts interfere 
		 with all your  
 obsessive incessant fables.
 	You must never doubt the veracity of
		of the latest tale of terror.
A secret Satanic elite of cannibalistic pedophiles,
	All the liberals are in on it, don’t you know?
		          Soros and Gates in collusion.  
Evangelical contagion,
the deep state  under every bed,
	the boogeyman behind it all.
Any questioner is complicit.
Any true believer will be saved. 
Apophenia intoxication,
		Donald Trump is your savior.
Your mind is malleable to malignancy,
		 It metastasizes in your trance.
The putrid contamination percolates
		      everywhere  in deafening silence.    
Each taste of QAnon venom, 
	      Each flavor of terror,
seizes and imprisons the masses of minds
	   And  if you listen, you will hear
the percussive funeral dirge
	for the death of the civilized world.

Who Am I

‘Who am I’ an unanswerable question
The questioner being in a hypnotic trance
The mind that asks itself requiring negation
Dissolution of identity being our only chance

Clue being ‘what is that that neither comes nor goes’
That that experiences unaffected as formless awareness
Silence & stillness revealing our Self as bliss in repose
Resonating with Ohm in an unceasing flow of blissfulness

Too Many Cooks

If a broth can be spoiled 
By too many cooks
That advice can, as well, be applied
To a patient consulting 
With too many docs
To determine what problem's inside.

Each one hopes he can help 
But conflicting reports 
Put the questioner into a tizzy
And the tests and the labs 
And the visits combine
To add one more new symptom - that's dizzy.

Frustration and pain, though,
In tandem, demand
A solution that might not be easy.
Still, stepping on somebody's
Toes may result
In discomfort that borders on queasy.

Poet

Prince without a lineage
King without a throne

Master without servants
Lover of that unknown

Hearer of what’s unspoken
Seer of things divine

Lord among the jesters
Voice for all the mimes

Reason, when excuses falter
Questioner, when answers fail

Link between the seasons
  —first breath a baby wails

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

The Cry of the Bugle

Regardless the battlefield,
   one fight rages on

Regardless the outcome
  —a warriors song

Regardless the politics,
   the brave fight and die

Regardless the questioner
  —blood telling no lies

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Poet

Prince without lineage
King without a throne

Master without servants
Lover of that unknown

Hearer of what’s unspoken
Seer of things divine

Lord among the jesters
Voice for all the mimes

Reason, when excuses falter
Questioner, when answers fail

Link between the seasons
 —first breath a baby wails

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February,2016)

Anita 01-20-1957

Me.
Unique,

Strong,
Fragile old girl, gentle questioner,
unshakeable hand,
Curious eye, quiet ear.

Poet

Prince without a lineage
King without a throne

Master without servants
Lover of that unknown

Hearer of what’s unspoken
Seer of things divine

Lord among the jesters
Voice for all the mimes

Reason when excuses falter
Questioner when answers fail

Link between the seasons
First breath a baby wails

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Possibility Wave

speaking to a dark current
in my own rhythm
the droning wash of tones
calling to all anxiety as kindred
collected here
to revel in exceptional acceptance
a rare platform for difficult emotions
fingering the feelings which words
are inadequate to describe

in this space
i am free to roam
unashamed
there are no wrong answers
because there are no questions

no questioner

only the endurance
of the un-involved observer

25 MAR 2016
PCOLA FL

Short Line Ii

Ugh!

Latching onto this ones own miserable misery 
Creating a fog sweeping sweet 
She brushed her brow, put on make-up
Turning the other cheek

She favored ignorance is no excuse
When she thought ignorance is bliss
She had it in the bag to begin the abuse

What suiting question for the questioner
If I pulled a rabbit from a hat 
Could you please disappear

Humiliated emotions
Don't seem to strike her
Awkward moments
She can't seem to recover

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