Unenlightened Poems

Heart Attack

Sometimes we rush around far too much for sense,
in desperate persuit of pounds, shillings and pence;
no wonder that we're falling down like finished flies,
I'm outa here but I don't know about all you guys.

No pressure now since I just resigned myself to fate, 
I only do modern art like a pile of bricks at the Tate;
occasionally I see Tracey Emin who did the 'unmade bed,'
it's no longer on view now, so we slept in it instead.

Thinking of a memorial for that iconic sycamore tree,
for the unenlightened, in north England, cut brutally,
perhaps a statue of Dawn French with a group of blokes,
she can no longer deliver her usual cheap sexual jokes.

We pay our respects to these memorials, disingenuous,
you pretend, procrastinate, which applies to most of us.

Ethereal

Ethereal- my dreams of outer space.
I dwell on cosmic wonders still unknown.
These otherworldly vibes, my thoughts embrace-
To make me feel that we are not alone.

I dwell on cosmic wonders still unknown-
Yet, ponder how Earth's lost among the rest.
To make me feel that we are not alone,
The Milky Way includes our home that's blessed- 

Yet, ponder how Earth's lost among the rest-
A microscopic spec midst this huge realm.
The Milky Way includes our home that's blessed;
Such unenlightened musings overwhelm.

A microscopic spec midst this huge realm-
These otherworldly vibes, my thoughts embrace;
Such unenlightened musings overwhelm.
Ethereal- my dreams of outer space.

Unenlightened

Why does the sun only come out by day
It would have been different if I’d had my way
Why does the moon shine so dimly at night
While the sun gets to shine when it’s already light

Even on hot days the sun still shines strong
It just seems to me that it’s all kinda wrong
And when nights are chilly and dark, tell me why
We can’t have the sun shining up in the sky

So maybe the sun could glow dusk until dawn
A nice moonlit night be a nice moonlit morn
I reckon the world would be just about right
If the moon glowed by day and the sun glowed at night

Song of Lovesongs

Prologue in BrideVoice

Let Him kiss me
with his patriarchal
predative
straight white monotheistic mouth.

His Yang passion
is more blissful than intoxicating wine;
delicate
elegant
integral in fragrance
of his scent,

His rich capital name
is a regenerating wet
warm oil poured
spasmodically out
and that is why
WoMan loves divine Man.

Lead me in your sacred footsteps,
let us run together.

EmPowering Yang has seduced me
into his unenlightened bedroom;

Sacred Integrity will become our wombed joy
and our climatic gladness.

WoMen shall praise your co-passion
more widely 
and deeply than exotic
darkly erotic wine;

How right[brain]
we feel
and fail
to co-passion left
with only Us.

Widowed Compassion

Said the old widow cook
to the drag queen son
feeding his/her dying abusive dad,
while offering her nurturing donation:

"I don't want your money.
We're not savages, yet."

Other words
that might have come to
desecrating mind:
not for sale, yet
not that victimized
not that wounded
not that uncivilized
not that poor
not that disenfranchised
not that disempowered
not that unenlightened
not that devastated
not that resourceless
not that dispassionate
not that judgmental

Ugly American

The ugly American likes waving the flag.
And dissing what he doesn’t understand.
He’s scared of change and threatened by intelligence,
But says he’s only honoring his clan.

The ugly American can’t think for himself.
He follows the herd spreading rumors and fear.
He’s a self-taught gomer, and a sucker for conmen
Who always tell him what he's eager to hear. 

The ugly American is an immature child.
He wants to live in the past as though those days were gold.
He’d have worshiped Father Coughlin, and Kingfish Huey Long.
Now he champions a modern demagogue.

The ugly American doesn’t need to rob banks,
Molest little children or murder his wife.
All he needs to do is keep his head in the sand
To see the consequences of an unenlightened life.

The ugly American never looks in the mirror.
He prides himself on honoring his roots.
If he saw his reflection, he’d be faced with the fact
That he's as useful now as worn-out cowboy boots.

The ugly American likes waving the flag,
And dissing what he doesn't understand.

Diplomatic Mystics, and Wiki Witches

Where Earth's international diplomats
might hope for multiculturally appropriate
justice

Radical theologians aspire
to restore sacred EarthGreen Peace

And EarthBeauty mystics,
whose reclusive nature is not not spiritual 
indigenously serene
and spacious mystics
nondualistic
nonviolent
non-zero-sum ecological economists

Actively hope
the rest of us unenlightened
and disempowered victims
of degenerative stressful traumas
find some cooperatively co-invested
serenity

In our sacred EarthTribal
co-empathic
co-arising justice
co-passioning peace restoring
peak experience 
long-term multi-regenerational memories
of preferably bilateral
synergetic
co-neurosystemic
passionately peaking
co-identity

Right here at home
in family
and local ecopolitical community
Where Earth's multicultural diplomats
might hope for democratic healthy wealth
restoring integrally cooperative justice.

Benediction of Return

May you soon return
not as disempowered
disabled
and woefully unenlightened,
trespassing against integrity,
against peace
and restoring healthy justice

Nor even as an honored 
LeftBrain dominating guest.

May you soon return
to our compassionate Home,
where loving voices
courageously resound
for co-empowering dances
curiously sung
in co-enlightened scales
of benediction.

Desert Dance

Desert Dance

Innocent, these sand dunes wait
Under cloudless, starry skies
Unenlightened of their fate
While moonlight dances and belies.

Silently, upon on a dune,
In silhouetted shapely form 
Baton in hand she taps a cue
To hail a scene long waited for.

Stout winds rise now for the West
The dance begins in pure blue light.
Seizing each blunt element
She pulls at them with all her might.

Soon every star is given rout
Obscured by clouds as black as blight
All must obey to carry out
Her every willful wish tonight.

With purging sheets of pelting rain
In unrelenting feral might
To pummel hard upon the back
Of every single thing in sight.

The thunder growls bombastic songs
To lightnings jagged blades of light
And all have waited oh so long
For such a tumult as this night.

But once exhausted, meek withdrawal,
She leaves the stars their last few hours
Till nothing’s left of force and squall
Except a sea of desert flowers.

With An Awareness Not Perceived By Others

Let me sit down
and observe the rising
of the August' sun,
it's gorgeous to watch it 
unfolding and illuminating
the entire valley that was unlit!

I refuge into the awakening Earth
with an awareness not perceived by others,
afraid to be blinded by such a brightness...
and doing so, I won't witness what is worth!

Let me speak humanly with those creatures
ready to explore another morning,
not knowing its outcome, only hoping
for calmness and pleasant slow-passing hours!

What is seen may seem mysterious and illusional
without having a persuasive concept and a firm belief:
that everything created sustains life despite the grief
and other calamities not imagined as superstitious;
what seems inconceivable is another truth so delusional!

It's the closing of a debatable day lived amid
the perception of faith and its endless possibilities
to clarify questions that have been ignored;
can an unenlightened person find all answers?

In Total Darkness

Taliban march on,
Kabul falls into the hands of barbarians
As
Chaos and death their steps follow.
- 
Mothers mourn their children
Bereaved wives grieve the death of their husbands
Panic is instilled in every heart and mind of 
Each freedom-loving Afghan.
-
Desperation and fear 
Slowly but persistently establish their depressive dominion 
Dragging society into the abyss of ignorance 
By annihilating human rights and freedom of expression, and 
At the same time 
Depriving women, among other things, the privilege of education 
For 
The new despots wish to weave the web of their regime in 
Total darkness so as to fit the color of their 
Unenlightened souls.







© Demetrios Trifiatis
      20 August 2021

*When the Taliban ruled Afghanistan from 1996 to 2001, the government banned music and barred women from attending school or leaving their homes without a male escort. In 2001, the U.S. 

**According to a United Nations report, the Taliban were responsible for nearly 40 percent of civilian casualties in the first six months of this year, more than any other party to the conflict in Afghanistan.

Sustaining Health

Who said?
Health isn't about politics!
Health shouldn't be about politics!
Health should be above partisan politics!

Healthy systems
are not about unchanging purity
and safety
and traditional dogma.

Healthy ego and eco systems
are much more about diversity
flexibility
and courageous curiosity

Just as wealthy economic networks,
local through global,
include ecological interrelationships

We might associate resonance
with polyculturally robust interactions,
personal and political,

Multiculturally resilient
dynamic stasis--
Slow inclusive
and diversely intricate
Beauty
cross-pollinating
climaxing inclusive diversity

Avoiding the monocultural purity
and calculating sobriety
of a 100% crabgrass landscape,

Or 100% concrete

Or 100% saltwater environment
with no above water healthy ecosystemic landmass
embedded in prehistoric
pure and safe 
powerful but unenlightened
bedrock.

A Ghost Arises

a ghost 
comes forth from 
the house of the dead,
a rather unusual apparition –
empty, desolate.
a wraith so worn and 
frail, it barely seems
there, as if suddenly thrust
from its icy winter shade.

it rises without sound, or maybe without voice,
a solitaire and lonely
shadow without form.

I wonder what its purpose
is here on this day
and whatever its plans for during its stay.

my fear aside, I can’t discern its intent,
dark or light, heaven or hell, good or evil.
I feel light and goodness on the one side and 
dark and evil as it turns its back to me.

perchance it
is here to help guide
me, but where?

It seems a lowly darkle, unenlightened
and slow, but it turns with clear
vision and song of 
light with an order
of celestial
beings from God’s land.

I am edified.

It is not the size or shape of the gift,
but the inherent purpose and intent of
its presence.
	
I shall follow it
with boldness, courage, and great expectations
as it leads me into my
sphere of scotophobia.

The Artist's Lies

We are taught that lies are wrong,
but that isn't true, there are exceptions.
Politicians,
con artist men and women,
and even the unenlightened who fall victim to them,
all lie to bury the truth, for their own selfish gain.
Artists will and do lie ever so often,
but only to reveal the truth to everyone,
by bringing the artist's lies to the unbeliever's attention,
and opening the artist's lies up for discussion, 
to whoever would give the artist's lies a verbal challenge.
The artist's motive is to inspire others to do their own personal researching,
in order to prove the lying artist wrong,
and they who give the lies of the artist a passionate challenge,
end up realizing the true truth as a result of their learning, 
walking away with a hell of a lot of new knowledge and enhanced wisdom.

Ecclesia De Veritate

Do we worship a concept
we cannot define

Do we dig for a treasure
that we’ll never find

Is the belief that it’s there,
enough to forge on

In perpetual failure,
no words to our song

Do we feel we’re the closest
when the bottom falls out

To be left further back,
and then bandied about

Does it even exist,
is it worth all the pain

The searching and fighting,
and what’s there to gain

Enduring the hardship
its pilgrimage holds

Because life without truth,
all body—no soul

To die unenlightened
and scarred from the search

Still a legacy worthy
—in veracity’s church

(Augustinian Cemetery: September, 2020)

• Short Unenlightened Poems
• Famous Unenlightened Poems
• Best Unenlightened Poems
• Read Unenlightened Poems
• Long Unenlightened Poems
• Unenlightened Quotes