They cradle absence in inherited creed,
A sculpted sky of words they never test,
Where certainty outgrows the need to read
The fine-print silence lurking in each rest.
They build a Heaven stitched from stolen light,
A fragile citadel of borrowed breath,
Where doubt is taught to bow and step from sight,
And fear is softened into faith till death.
For Heaven lives in language, not in ground,
A story tuned to quiet human dread,
A place that only ever can be found
Within the living, not among the dead.
And when the final pulse gives out its claim,
No gates unbar, no choir bends the air;
Just vast unlit indifference, no name,
Where belief fades into a wordless stare.
Repetitive thoughts drive
Ratifies depression
Rationalism leaves
Randomly they pop up
Return constantly~haunt
Rented a room in brain
Rage incessantly-trapped
A person who is depressed can't help this something hijacks part of the brain and makes it hang up in this negative state. Something is needed to throw a wedge in there to stop the constant repetitiveness. Meds can help, counseling, change of habits, good nutrition, etc.
Rambunctiously I go
Rambling in the dark woods
Randomly following
Range trails made by racoons
Raptly I watch among
Ramps, next to the creek bed
Rationalism leaves
ramps-noun-a wild plant much like spring onions with a garlicy taste
He relied much on ‘expert’ opinions,
doctrine and dogma
as if assumptions and conjecture
were an undeniable truth.
‘Settled science’ was accepted confidently,
blind faith and an irrational rationalism;
the hand-me-down punditry of pundits
silenced his every doubt.
Against all odds
conspiracies conspired -
unauthorized books read to him,
even under his closed eyes.
One night he flew awake
like a bird departing a nest of fire.
All that he had known as true
were revealed as a script
written by a Satan that did not exist.
His hollow tree sprouted leaf,
incredulity flourished,
a belief system faltered, staggered dazed
into a ditch he had labored upon for many a year.
He became a heresy unto himself:
the beloved of God.
I'm not notable reader of the rich Latin language,
That treasures within its realm mountainous barns of knowledge…
Thoughts and philosophies, like symphony, around-the-clock,
To this ocean, like sea animals, for full refuge, flock...
Of all, like sediments, one who has settled in my mind,
And floats to the surface, like unfettered feather inter-twined;
Is Rene Descartes – French, who’d taught - cogito, ergo sum,
That altered my concepts, to rationalism, to succumb...
I think, therefore I exist; no existence otherwise?
Is this very concept, yet, as highest as the great skies?
Accessible knowledge; test of best methodical doubt,
Doubting the very existence; whether it's flood or drought...
Fond rebuilding; single-lined philosophy; so modern!
When I teach it to my students they seem problem-ridden;
To me, yet, this phrase and philosophy are august fun,
Like irrational thought battles lost early, are now won...
10 January 2022
Latin Lessons Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Margarita Lillico
Stand up! Brothers and sisters
The viral demons are raging everywhere
Threatening our precious lives
Stand up! Brothers and sisters
Arming with our rationalism and wisdom
We must be united to defeat them
The invisible war is fiercely going
The enemies are cowardly hiding
Laughing at our loss of brothers and sisters
Come on! we must win the campaigns
Our spirits are fearless and undaunted
Our pearls of wisdom are strongly inherited
We are the instituted invincible fighters
We must be able to defeat them
Truth-less belief is true illiteracy;
Belief-less truth is ignorance!
But the conscience and rationalism
hates only illiteracy not the ignorance!
So what’s the ignorance!
Oh! I ignore all blind believers but I'm not illiterate!
-January 28, 2020 Chattogram
I'm believer
but I ignore the feature
my ignorance is not illiteracy
but avoid intimacy
I'm grateful to all
but with belief not at all
I want peace
I don't live in argument,
in the existence of belief
I'm not in rationalism
where I find myself as atheist
theist in every single living agent
life can do anything
godly power
I belief in living agent
every life can do anything
believing godly activities
in pantheism,
in panentheism
I'm into me pure love rhythm
-January 22, 2020 Chattogram
God has revealed His new creatures
those that are in Christ no less
showing His godly character to be
this is required for your heavenly dress
When one looks upon those ones
that professes to be so very holy
so often carnality is all seen
one must judge looking very slowly
Look circumspectively just to see
where's the evidence of Christ's effect
is there humility, grace and meekness
traits of Jesus but so often just defect
In an age of much God rejection
rationalism and apostacy rules the day
where's the change of lives and morals
little evidence too of man's urge to pray
Paul spoke of a real new change
old things to go everything was new
revival is required to save society
God's powerful effect long overdue
("Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.")
2 Corinthians 5: 17 (KJV)
Formal education,
requires a fence
With borders to confine,
and logic intense
Three letters that matter,
the I, S, and M
Each school suffixed over,
its member’s defend
Realism, Rationalism,
Idealism all…
Each name its own failing,
as verity calls
True thought has no class
or Academie named
It stands on its own,
the truth its sole claim
With knowledge in conflict,
the days turn to night
Academia’s lantern
—burned out in the fight
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Polished Dust
Ha- haa our community has reared a bull
As it moves from the kraal it charges
Against a tree, a rock, and anything
When the moon peeps it charges at it
When the sun rises it sneezes at it
When cloud swims above it raises dust
Wanting to jump and touch the sky
Giggling like a ghost when darkness knocks
You meet such bulls in grazing lands
Day in, day out busy charging at all
Sometimes with tongues poked out,
Releasing hot dung in water they drink
Generations in and out the game continues
With futile action of polished dust
This land of humans with rationalism aside
Is rich in polished dust more than all
The rationalist must reduce,
It's in their nature.
Pragmatic logic insists,
On conformity of thought,
Anomalies will not be tolerated,
Measurable verifiable data,
Equations balanced,
Algorithms written,
Formulas deduced,
Universal laws obeyed,
But shadows still linger,
The face behind the face,
Unconscious chaos,
Irrational processes,
That feeds the soul.
Ah but we have no soul,,
For logic deems it thus,
No individual light,
Only predictable
Chemical reactions.
And biological impulses,
And our bones rot into
Infinite night,
Not for me,
Give me wisdom
Beneath cool moonlight,
And wild gypsies songs,
Give me anarchist poems,
And the strange happiness
Of religious folk,
Give me anything,
But your sterile world
Washed in monotone grey.
Bergson* contemplated
To the core and found;
Immediate experience
And intuition are reality in whole,
Science and rationalism
Follows them in pursuit due.
(* French Thinker)
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