Uncontested Poems

journey into a bipolar mind

journey into a bipolar mind

pebbles in time
.
there were ripples in yesterday’s water
where stones once were tossed
.
pebbles really,
yet enough to form concentric wrinkles
soothing over rough edges 
and drowning silly circus clowns
.
each circle died and glass-like waters
were again 
still
undisturbed 
as though he had not been there
.
perhaps he hadn’t
.
in his head circles rolled onto circles
and the pale painted pony
leapt easily over his uncontested path
.
the music stopped
his eyes closed and no circles remained
ripples collapsed and pebbles dropped 
inside his quiet mind
.
time to get off, he thought to himself
as he reached into his pocket and wondered
which was real
the carousel or the glass-like waters
.
in his pocket the pebbles were wet
and the painted ponies were going round again
galloping away
while clowns begged for laughter
.
and he picked up more pebbles from the ice cream stand
.
tolbert                     

To Whom Does This Come

To whom does this come,
When joy is co-dependent,
The comfort of a promised one,
Resurgent and resplendent.

The uncontested dignity,
That resonates in full,
Reflects a morning glory,
In the dawning of a soul.

The promise made of pure intent,
Is born of mortal passion,
And yet, it whispers kindly,
In the portal of compassion.

Gifting us and sifting us,
In virtues to discover,
The value of a happy heart,
Is lifting one another.

The glory of eternity,
No majesty can render,
But perfect peace in victory,
Whenever we surrender.

uncontested

        on edge all my life 
        easily toppled over 
         rue this day today 
 my ribs are blown wide open 
     and butterflies fly away 

By
David Kavanagh

Suicide

It’s unanimous
uncontested
irrefutable
no doubt
no conjecture
I am an arsehole
bad-tempered
foul-mouthed
and irredeemably crass
all my conversations
revolve around me
my opinions
about everything
are always right
I have done everything 
I have been everywhere 
it has taken almost seventy years
for this message to reach home
but 
upbeat and eternally optimistic
agony aunts aside
it is now too late for me to change
so, do I remove myself
and not be missed
or, do I forge on
unliked but endured
‘tis a quandary
that has bested me
if truth be told
most days
my choice lies 
but a hair’s breadth away 
from the former solution
do not be alarmed dear reader
the above are merely the musings
of a crusty old bullet
I shall remain
irredeemably crass 
until the lights go out
aah life
what a thing it is.

Why Is It

Why is it?
the louder
and more ballistic
my self-righteousness
offensively becomes

The more
at night
I feel self-loathing,
when all is quiet
except dark ruminations
filling my silent bedroom
overwhelming my mind
and body.

Why is it?
we RightWing worry
that nonviolent communication,
too lovingly applied,
would leave us defenseless
against colonizing predators?

And do not worry enough
about LeftWing social anxiety
chronic worrying trauma tales
of violent communications,
too profoundly
ubiquitously applied,
leaving us offensively polarized
by inside fascist autocratic hate
hoarding angry power
and fear filled paralysis?

While unallied corporate fat cat
capitalists,
sell defense industry prophylactic lies,
mad ecocide
predicting global anthroprivileged
demise.

Our inhumane history of violence
leaves uncontested
a healthy silent mystery
of preference 
for compassionate personal experience.

Silent Street

My father passed a few years back, and he keeps appearing in my dreams, always on the same street and roughly the same dialogue. The poem/story has no real format. Just my feelings on it. Thanks! 

 Silent Street 

On streets where past and present collide, holograms ride delta waves
You sidle up, gate light and easy, mid conversation
I Parse the rhetoric for glimmers of acceptance
But again benign, drivel muddles the way

The one sided blather on photography labors uncontested
Your catalogue, a thorough exhibition of you
Fitting. Buried emotions etched in celluloid 
Reveling in silent shame, feeling a camaraderie
of sorts

Time is short, so silent I stay
Ears hinged for signs of accountability
A modicum of responsibility
And so I wait...

The pipe store beckons, it's almost time
Fading into the night he says We'll meet up later
I know we will. So Maybe, next time.
Till then, in silent space, I standalone. Apologies unrendered.

She Wishes To Make a Funnel Large Enough To Put Everything In This Little Bottle

altered from ever existing
so that someone else could prosper
and be placed above you through
the uncontested means of believing
strength in the fact that anything against
others makes your position right
loyalty to your spouse
means you honor your position in marriage
following your spouse blindly is quite foolish.
than all bowed before me expecting
 me to remedy their ills
to make me hero, in their need to speak of
someone other than their selves.
now I am left with nothing and no one.
they shall trick you to divide you
and ally with you incertain agreements
they will divide you from who you
have chosen to honor as husband
to make wives in Eden.
they shall speak ill of those
 ways that make you a man and compare
men to woman and settle
with that which draws no division
Smite him that givest that
 his labors one cares not of
but only the fact that he shall
 speak fooly and be kindred
and will never want to
 take marriage with you

Complexity Denied

As warlord of the ticking count…
  time marches uncontested

Avoiding every scrutiny,
  defending every lie

All seasons caught within its grasp,
  each day a slave in training

Order becoming disorder again
  —complexity denied

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)

Love's Dream

My eyes look for you 
My heart bleeds the truth
My spirit enters your soul completely 
When I see you I fall in love all over again

The closeness I feel is excitement uncontested 
To feel you next to me is like heaven real
As I find myself lost without your feel 
The feel of your skin, to hold your hand 
To breathe your scent and kiss your lips 
I find myself falling in love all over again 

To hold you tight I await my time in life 
But missing you is a natural occurrence it seem 
The dreams I have, the plans I dream 
I want more than I bare just waiting your love 
But most of all, my heart flutters with life 
And loving you is a dream come true 
As everyday, love's dream of being two

In Regard To My Feelings, Which I Am Permitted To Carry, Uncontested, For the Duration I Choose:

I.

They are too much supper
And never enough. The stomach
Drops as does a basket of apples too heavy for the
Hands that carry it. Yet, each green orb is
So delightful, that to pluck even one from
Its woven nest seems wasteful. 
I do not intend to feed the birds.


II.

Intensity of Romantic Hope never comes
To dinner without her companion, Fear of Rejection.
Their arms link in reluctant solidarity, and 
Are perhaps the archetype for co-dependency. 
Together they feed Anxiety, which is 
Cyanide for hope, but Trust is 
In the orchard climbing 
Apple trees and filling baskets, 
Her pockets, and 
Calls down to her companions to 
Bring the wheelbarrow too.

Undecided Sin

Mind lurking elsewhere; Like the thief in the night 

Inner thoughts trapped where bad is considered the best

Heartless soul that attacks the spirit

The gate way to heaven is nowhere to be seen

Mindless body that lurks for sin

Deeds that darken the light

Attempts to stop, but the feeling refuses

Inner ability to pray has failed, uncontested weakness has occurred

Sin rushes through my veins; day in and out

A call out to God has placed me on hold

Blind hands that hold nothing but the devils plate

My soul covered in mud like a pig in mud

Dirt follows me in the night it eats me alive 

I trying to believe but my faith is weak

I knocking on faith’s door but nobody seems to be inside

Waking around in never land hoping to find me

I cry out to the bible, but my cries are silent

Open your heart oh lord as I kneel before you

People around me so distant that I see them no more

Oneirism

I often lose myself
Amidst webs
Of weens and oneirisms.

I've built there
A diminutive colossus,
Of my little big imaginations.

There, even the driest martini
Moistens my parched saliva,
And soothes my soul.

And the sounds of silence deafens
The chaos within,
Which otherwise makes my heart thole.

Uncontested race with,
Unknown identities and,
Known strangers becomes easy to win.

With noticeable absence,
And quiet presence,
Of childish reluctance makes no sin.

There, cremated births,
Living dead and suicide victims
Are found missing.

For oneirism it is,
Where life can go on even,
With a small honey wrapped kissing.

~Nayanika Dey
©1942016

Values

I was raised with honesty
The uncontested rule,
A policy that was enforced
At home and, too, at school.

An object found by chance or luck,
I very quickly learned,
Could never be embraced as mine,
But had to be returned.

The wrong change given in a store?
An error being billed?
I’d proudly point them out; those values
Solidly instilled.

But times have somehow changed and now
Things don’t seem black or white.
My conscience sometimes grapples with
What may be wrong or right.

And so, instead of pride, I felt
A sense of ridicule
When, admitting that I’d underpaid,
I looked more like a fool.

Butterfly Dreams

Though a butterfly is with us,
For such a short time,
It’s not longevity,
That captivates one’s mind,
Its beauty is uncontested,
Its aerial ballet serene,
So thank you dear butterfly,
For seeding my dream

Thousand Shards of Glass

A grey area through which we trudge
A thousand arcing shards
Sol, dust on the rift of illumination
A thousand cut-throat shards
Forever lead astray by the light
The boundaries of truth
Oh so tyrannical
Uncontested
.
..
...
Tick, tick
The bell to resound
The fangs to arch in
For a rogue shard could ne'er defy

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