Short Impersonal Poems

Space
to sleep,
bath and shave-
impersonal
void...

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hollow point,
sounds so impersonal, like the chamber
where it is lodged...

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Practice pontificating indemnity,

moralistic servitude toward the,

practice exemplary impersonal activity....

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Love alone is
              personal and human...
              universal love
              it's impersonal
              and divine...!...

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The

Impersonal 

Is a character

Appearing in the

Sagas of life...

The impersonal

Appears as personal..

Nothing personal......

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How many hearts will melt
from message, AI wrote
that pings upon a phone;
as many did who felt
soft kiss on gentle throat
that sighed a yielding moan?...

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Beliefs

Attachments to thoughts

Reinforce a separate identity &

Things are taken personally..

Which is a story of

An appearance of the

Impersonal......

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Spring comes in yellow
In crocus, in jonquil,
In ducklings and peeps,
In warming sun angle; 

In butterfly golden,
In yellow renewal
Impersonal bounty
Feeds personal hope....

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Popular pretensions
pretend God is faceless
impersonal,neutered and neutral;
No,no-way,no-way they say
believing themselves
this and that;
Anything,everything
something and nothing....

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What's in store for the next thirty years
Not looking forward to it it's a future to fear 
I'm from the old school
Interaction was the rule
These days it's so impersonal it brings me to tears...

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God is 
No impersonal abstraction,
but a living being.
Not harsh or remote
but fair,just and all-seeing.
Not impatient with a closed mind,
but long suffering,loving-kind.
Not unknowable or unknown,
ever-ready to be shown....

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true fulfilment
    an ethereal fantasy
    of
     tempetuous romance
     in a 
perfect distillation
     free
        of hierarchy
this
  creative antipathy

a diffused presence

the perspective
of impersonal beauty
in
a
    potential muse...

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Got a text message from my wife, our cat just committed suicide
Very impersonal don't you think, used to be a phone call making us cry
What have we become
With a finger up our bum
People are too busy for a phone call to hear our dear cat died ...

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I can’t survive without the rush of an impulsive swallow or an impersonal touch.

I’m fueled by the adrenaline I get solely through sex and drugs, driving while high and chasing danger.

Piercing my skin with needles and pins,

willing to feel the worst to feel anything...

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Impersonal and mystic force?
I think that there is little chance
our origin’s a random course.
Impersonal and mystic force?
No thing, no one, no rhyme, no source?
Life’s so much more than happenstance!
Impersonal and mystic force?
Of that, I think there’s little chance....

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I AM AN I AM

    I  AM  AN  I AM

I am immaculately impudent
I am imprudent
I am impractical
I am impersonal
I am impatient
I am impolite
I am impure
I am imperfection
I am at an impasse
I am immature
I am imbecilic
But most important of all is
I am impotent
    ©2011.…~free cee!~ Phreepoetree...

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Impersonal
Superficial
A tribute to a man
I hardly knew
An impractical joker
An inclement clown
Overly cautious
To never reveal
Anything of himself
Hiding under the façade
Of inappropriate humor
An awkward conundrum
A mystery man



AP: Honorable Mention 2020

Posted on July 1, 2019...

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I can be soft and gentle,
Or harsh and crude,
Charismatically diplomatic,
Or impersonal and rude,
I can be kind and giving,
And selfishly living,
I can console with sincere empathy,
Or dismissive with rapier cruelty,
If I could harmonize these bitonal character traits,
Life would be,
A fabulously elegant,
Emotional symphony....

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Immovable object that you see?
Truly not, if you allow it free. 

Intolerable silence you hear?
Try softening your sense of fear.

Impersonal, harsh touch of old love?
Therapeutic caress from above.

Inevitable in taste of grief?
Transitioning stages for relief.

Infinite smell of Autumn decay?
Tumbling leaves in dull, damp, dying day....

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SIR – DU JOUR

Someone called me “Sir” today
Am I really all that old
The “Sir” is so impersonal
So formal and so cold
I always have reserved it
For those advanced in age
Or those whose rank and status
Are just too hard to gauge
But they stop me in the hallway
And address me now as “Sir”
I guess I really am that old
It’s my title now du jour

Mdailey...

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Perfect Love

Perfect love carries an impersonal touch,
like silent buddahs on lotus blossoms,
waiting for suffering to breathe a final, quiet sigh.
Like ice on distant mountains,
waiting to nourish the world below.
Like a Mother hawk, hunting high,
in a cloudless sky.
A love so unearthly blind and beautiful,
That it makes no distinction between caressing mother and child,
or a perfect stranger....

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Whey faced and ashen
Trouser leg rolled up
Jagged shinbone jutting
With a ragged grin.
Words tumbling 
From a mouth
Shocked and numb
Sitting stiffbacked
In the dentist's window
Facing the street
Two women busy
Mothering the casualty
Until the ambulance.
Outside unrelenting
Lay the pavement
 On a freezing Friday
Ice glinting coldly
And unconcerned.
Inside an old  soldier
Never before
Brought low in battle....

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You tell me your leaving 

Impersonal over the phone

Couldn't you at least write me a Poem

Spelling out why

Or was I just small fry

You overcooked 

Because you weren't paying attention 

Romping up the temperature 

Drained on old newspaper 

Yesterday's news in small print 

You never really cared about 

Hanging on your arm whilst you looked out

For something better to come along

And sweep you off your feet...

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That noise
The overwhelming noise
Mechanical impersonal
Drowning out
My inner voice
In a much soothing manner
I may be deaf when
I leave this roastery coffeehouse
But till then
I am thoroughly enjoying
The mental massage
By this robotic drone
Being in no rush to leave
Sipping my americano



Submitted on March 11, 2020 for contest STRAND CHOICE D sponsored by BRIAN STRAND  -  HONORABLE MENTION

Originally posted on December 13, 2018...

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Be there not a kernel paradoxical,
in that nature which hides a truth impersonal?

That freedom is guided by fundamental rights,
not man, for example.

Love, too, must only be allowed to grow-
Love itself, not necessarily man,
is the rule to follow.

Finally, equality can be thought of in this frame,
because only man has emphasized the tradition of a name.

But our blood, our principles, our love-
Are they not passed to women just the same?...

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