Last night I dreamt of doing a challenge
Driving to the bottom of a lake
Twice without a breath
As I started down into the deep
I realized it would be much smarter
To use a depth finder first.
Realizing my obvious folly
I swam for the surface as hard as I could
But ended up needing a breath
Before I got there.
In the morning I see this is a symbolically
Deep dream of exploring the unconscious
Naively and playfully thinking it will be fun
Only to realize, too late
That it is instead filled with the unknown
Potentially bottomless.
(8/11/26)
Something About
Free Will That Has
Free Will As Its Judge...
Let Go! Monster!
I Can't Take This Thing
Anywhere! Self-Absorption...
I Knew I'd... Wait, Hold On...
It's Ruthless...
Its Got No Ruth.
Rrooooth.
Try To Make
Sense Of That:
GUILT!
Good Job!
-Gray Squirrel
06-30-2026
(“Depth Psychology Merit Badge”, 2015, original oil)
The mind is a mysterious thing
Handling the conscious and unconscious
Simultaneously,
A true multitasker behind its multimasked face.
So much remains below the surface
Monitored, projected and reacted to instinctively
Without even needing to rise to the level
Of conscious awareness.
And what does rise, getting all the attention,
Is often the same old stuff
Patterns and habits, worries, hopes and fears
Wearing deep grooves so hard to erase.
Below, the current shifts, fluidly
In tidal rhythms but with a constantly creative
Playful air that seems to defy
Its survival imperative.
How can the mind be so accepting
In the face of change’s annihilation?
Maybe it knows something in the depths
Which we mere mortals with rational logic reject.
Something fluid, tidal and creative
Something both above and below
Something which is a nothing
But the light reflected in her face.
(10/7/25)
In essence the unconscious mind ~ reveals all knowledge to mankind
I'd love to sit and have a rest,
But I see no one who'd suggest
It seems a bit too much of me
If I would sit here, feeling free
If you were here, I’d be your slave
For freedom’s burden I won’t crave
We could sit down with a smile
Resting our feet just for a while
I’m passing by this bench instead
Of sitting with you head to head
I missed the chance, we blew it all
The only meaning was your call
There’s no alternative I see
If there’s no you, there is no me
So its unconscious where I am
A reminiscence of a man..
away from the unconscious bias in the world
i escape my comfort zone and open up my mind and my heart
new ways of doing introduce themselves to me
new worlds worth seeing welcomes me with unexpected open arms
new people with interesting personalities meaningfully school me as well as own me with the best intent
tears flow rather freely because i am experiencing and discovering beyond complicated, constipated fear
i am totally and completely inspired to find out about and experiment with More
away from the unconscious bias of the world
Mind racing with horrid thoughts of this so-called end time
not knowing what to believe from all the hearsay floating
The chatter has gotten louder no matter the source, true
or false has always been the questions with no answer
sounding safe to trust.
People driving around looking for households items they
assume will run out of stock. Fearing not having enough
survivor products to keep a sense of safety in case of a
major catastrophic event. Fear has always been the worst
enemy of any time in history.
A planted seed of something disastrous used to get unconscious
minds of the fearful to conjure that illusion as a manifestation.
Quiet way to use most unknowingly in a worldwide ritual. This
has/need to stop, people wake up. Change fear and grief to
power of love. Yes, it can be difficult, learn to overwrite fear.
A conscious mind in coherence with a healed heart is the manna,
the kingdom, and the heavens within. The balance of the emotions
are the acceptance of a emulsion(duality) of light and dark which
give comprehension to the flow (polarity) of positive and negative;
yes, ups and downs are normal.
In layers of the unconscious mind,
Where desire and fear are hard to find.
Through symbols and there metaphors,
We seek to find those open doors.
Through corridors of thought, we roam,
Hearts beating like a metronome.
A subconscious dream within a dream,
We search for truth in things we've seen.
The introspection we are searching for,
A message wrote in semaphore.
This message we don't understand.
Whilst dreaming, we're in no-man's-land.
Self-Reflection in the things we seek,
As wild eyes flicker in REM sleep.
We awake within our lucid dream,
To find things aren't quite what they seem.
This false awakening controls.
Whilst sleeping, searching for our soul.
Our soul search late into the night,
We fight our way towards the light.
A cryptic sign which makes no sense,
We wonder, lost in dreams suspense.
In search of truth, we must explore,
A paradox found at every door.
In the labyrinth of our complex mind,
Is a truth one day I hope we'll find.
A dream with secrets hidden deep,
Dreams secrets kept, yet whilst we still sleep.
---unconscious bias
I crawl as my tongue slither back
forth lies and untruths,
my rock heart, my mouth spews
-out disproportionately facts
represented or excluded from certain roles
my verbal statement of reform mine associations we hold
I and my friends (I mean fiends) be a sign of
---unconscious bias
Who are we as I and we snap judgments?
Assessments, who whom are I and we to past testaments
Them there whom they be negative attitude,
We in ourselves outside of self can’t let them be
Of which one is not consciously aware,
Against a specific social group none of which we I care
Eternal hatred, jealousy and slander
Why? Must I (we) inside those hearts speak aloud ill of
--Oh? What wroth,
Such a lot
Is this unconscious prejudice
Human resources do they measure this
--- Those whom internally thinking unconscious bias
9/11/24
For This or That, Vol 27 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Written: September 08, 2024 For Edward Ibeh Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He has blue eyes and lovely blond hair,
Curls rose above his pink and pretty ware.
Do not mention his background or affairs,
With Africa by people who settled there.
His father's family tree has extensive roots,
Has Swedish, Cajun French, and British limbs.
Grafts from Choctaw and Cherokee wood routes,
That got some black stems from long-time whims.
His mother comes from a Creole background,
Descendants of a native African tribe.
Parentage from France and Spain was found,
And mingled with Bayou Indians and more vibe.
Because intolerance and hatred confine,
They also obstruct the expansive plain.
Therefore, bigots are vindictive and supine,
It is only clear to observe the gutter drain.
There are no pleasant views of the spleen,
There are no cloverfields or rolling greens.
Restricted minds lack the ability to see,
a breathtaking panorama of the scene.
And biased men with pretentious pride,
While in white, they become narrow-eyed.
who despise Blacks, Jews, and Native side,
They are completely sealed and closed inside.
Child when born is born to a culture
Loves to smile, feels safe with familiar face
Parents think hard to give a good name
Search, consult, decide, toss for one pretty
First name, easy to choose middle name
last name.
For grace they name after lineage
Who dealt with hardships to earn such good name
And had lived a good life, with virtue
Or like to choose some social star, from film
From sports, from divine, successfully
Lived life.
Name is everything, it shines bright on
Physical existence, on culture, creed
Whispers to all about their land born
Cheers loud, stands first, stays cautious, courteous
to native clan, sings sweet if rich and
famous.
Name keeps one's bloodline warm and running
Once named, sense and soul warms up to that sound
Whenever called out loud or murmured
It brings cheer to loving heart, pleases mind
One strives to live up to it, loves the
Named name.
Startling thoughts on name I read, I see
Prejudice has spurned me n times by name
Yet, I wear her with love on my sleeve
Polish with truth, kindness and honesty
I smile when someone calls me by my
First name.
In the quiet hush of morning light,
He stares at her with tender eyes,
A face familiar, yet out of sight,
In the fog where all memory lies.
Her voice, a melody he once knew,
Now stirs something deep inside,
A warmth, a pull, a feeling new,
Or perhaps, an echo that won’t subside.
She smiles, a tear begins to trace,
The lines of time upon her face.
He wonders, is this love I feel?
A heart awakened, but wounds unhealed.
Then comes the truth, soft and kind,
A tale of love left far behind.
"You’ve loved me once, and still you do,
Though your mind has made me new."
He grasps her hand, both old and fresh,
A bond that time could not repress.
For in his heart, though memories fade,
Love remains, unscathed, unafraid.
In this moment, they both find,
That love transcends the fragile mind.
A love forgotten, yet still it flows,
Through the heart, where true love grows.
Beneath the surface where thoughts often stray,
Lies a bias that colors our view each day.
Invisible threads weave through the mind,
Shaping perceptions we're blind to find.
We see through lenses that age has stained,
Distorting the world with judgments ingrained.
The mirror reflects a skewed truth's face,
A filtered reality, a hidden disgrace.
History’s shadows linger, stark and clear,
Biases persist though we claim to steer.
Masks of fairness cloak the hidden guise,
Concealing the biases that our heart denies.
Turn the gaze inward, seek the inner light,
Where biases drift in the depth of night.
Only by facing what's buried inside,
Can we untangle the truth that’s denied.
Acknowledge the flaws that quietly remain,
And let our minds break free from this silent chain.
For true change begins when we recognize,
The unconscious biases veiled from our eyes.
do you ever get days when you feel broken
totally empty of inspiration
flat and deflated
you are almost unconscious
unaware, invisible, numb
and you must write
your pen has fallen on the floor and rolled
drowsy you are able to find it
lethargic and dazed
you look at your crisp white paper ...
you have a bias for poems about your life
and also favor nature themes
of life I pen ....
my life is adrift
a ravaged garden tangled ...
serene and quiet
of nature I write ...
the birds sing me a song in the cemetery
as I walk a winding path deeper and deeper
into the ethereal peace .... oh, I am getting close
and then, the engraved cold mossy stone
all of a sudden I am no longer repressed
I feel calm and awake
I gather my blank pages
now, I write not caring about other peoples
preconceived bias to my poetry
because I write for me
Unconscious bias can upset one's heart
if kin or friends might shun your written art-
to look upon good poetry as play-
negating words that might uplift their day.
Some think of poetry as silly writes
that jumble words and do not meet the rights
to be upheld as literary worth-
with any thoughtful meanings to unearth.
Perhaps poetic metaphors give pause
and render writers void of earned applause.
Ambiguity somehow dismisses sense;
unconscious bias- inborn to commence.
Most poets may unveil views quite obscure
that sometimes deems their sanity unsure
by those who harbor this unconscious fact-
and hold back ways by which they should react.
We're thankful other poets read our art
with no unconscious bias on their part.
They understand the nuances displayed
in chosen thoughts so artfully conveyed.
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