Short Insoluble Poems

I still don't  realize why
      when I mentalize you,
      it rains inside me...
      and the sun gets cloudy
      in silence...
      What an insoluble mystery...!...

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...

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You start
the poem
but cannot end it
insoluble through teared eyes
A whipping wrecking ball swung, slugging your breast
striking a sharp chord of melancholy thought hidden
a random book, a random page, a random long-forgotten line; yet…...

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The fragmented truth of all truths 
                synonymously changes within themselves all the time 
                    without changing the absolute rigid whole truth 
                       ineffable insoluble mystery of existing truth...

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In fruitless tradition, 
to kneel at the redingote of memory, 
in this garden of loss and souls, 
an insoluble desire to court heartache. 
To renew a dark corner of the heart, 
like a half burned candle that we labor to reignite,
through the bitter ephemeral winds of time. 
But only illuminate that which will never be again....

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We have much in common,
the same number of limbs
organs, D.N.A., frailties.

Yet there’s still a smidgen, 
a pinch of disparity,
just enough difference
for a disagreement.
Enough to possibly instigate
an insoluble conflict,
or a religious feud
between one moron
and another.

Given time, we will surely
find other minor differences,
which will of course insure
that things will keep getting 
worse....

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In the inmost part of my extrinsic insoluble mind 
There is a berth that you have to leaf thoroughly through to find
A vicinity that's scarred by years of heartless crime
Like a flask with echoes of sour screams, overflowing with cries
Keeps me roused at eventide with a toothless grin
Wondering if I'll be tolerable for once in my continuance and when
Day spring comes and then my dusty attic generates a spin
Arise and get costumed, as it starts all over again...

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Sit under the sword
That hangs by a thread
And you may find out
What Damocles said
“My life is in check
And makes me unsure
A terrible wreck
Insoluble cure”

But ordinary life
No difference or sage
A book to endure
How many the page

And danger exist
Around every turn
A fire of time
The book may well burn

So sit in his place
What difference to make
When thread to consider
We all must partake

And biding of time
The sword may well fall
If by fate design
Some cardinal hall...

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Such opulent lives above desperation,
Pry your actions for insoluble wealth,
Their needs go by without hesitation,
Infestation of the material forgoing all health,

Are these cherished items your breath?
Counting priceless luxury at what cost?
For the immaterial is the only company for death,
But attachments shall leave you unrest and lost.

Breathe and realise,
Death comes to all, rich or poor,
Detachment is cure.

5th February 2016
Music by:
Breathe. - Jacoo...

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rent from the agony
past.

muscle mass made
from joy too.

hangs now deprived
form. Nerves dead.
Dead blood. Hard,
insoluble damns
capillary at
single 
stroke.

higher disfunction 
set on repeat
flickers behind
eyes bright
that do not bare looking

drooping red ring
rheumy. makes a
crust on the lost beauty

cheekbones once 
chalk hills
dressed with
apple trees

are now nursery for flakes
of unstoppable tears

'wipe your eyes old man'

If only you could....

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