Stark emptiness fills my perfume bottle,
The vacuum in my vacuity,
Negligence swills it beyond the dottle,
To leave my mind bare of acuity.
For many days its void of content speaks,
But its endurance keeps my freshness plump,
Compliments make its vast emptiness squeaks,
Yet it exhales resentment from its pump.
My shirts already miss its friendliness,
Noses beg to sniff its unique sweetness,
Stale air asks to reclaim lost cleanliness,
Its presence ensures far-reaching neatness.
Importance is etched upon your label,
How I so much miss your fresh aroma,
Your sweet tale cannot be told as fable,
The freshness you bring can't end in coma.
In forms of crusts and curves and caves and carves and undulates,
The vacuum looks exceedingly charming and gorgeous;
This vacuum, yet, when becomes a throne of naughty fates,
Heart and mind get twisted and turned into strains enormous...!
When vacuums are crowded with cockroaches and lizards,
The environs become disgusting and nauseating;
Vacuum can turn violent when gnawing, like blizzards,
When, owing sorrows and sufferings, life grows frustrating...!
When silliness and meaninglessness fill the vacuum,
Pessimism, like thorny plants, fills the fields of existence;
Delight, like chased-out parrots, leaves the heart's loveliest room,
Towards pain and bareness does vacuum show resistance...!
Even richly strong life could be, like chaff, easily blown,
Wisdom filled vacuum can become a heavenly throne...!!!
The slithered shadows trailed my shag rug, in the foothills of the upright weave of flaccid threads.
Seemingly chaotic, yet made out of pure design and memory: From the hands of its maker, rolled into the flatness beneath its buyer’s feet. Asking “why” looks for the in-between, vast as forever. The math: A hard one and social, but still a math. More of a psychonomic-politecology.
Our bodies are just the same—moving pieces that pretend to be in a vacuum. We aren’t in one, but surely under it every so often.
Pieces who poise in passing places and people; pretending preponderance, betraying imposed predilections, to the preferable exposed.
Psychobiophysic microcosms invoke the such of a macrosomatic glob that is the everything, at least on this atomic chunk.
And so forth,
And so forth.
The gibberish in the rug is a cortex, and so are we.
Don’t go near a vacuum,
Stay clear of empty space,
Don’t look at the dark side,
But watch the full moon’s face.
Don’t fall into a pit,
Or get stuck in a hole,
Avoid incompleteness,
Learn to worship the whole.
Don’t slip into a chasm,
Place your footsteps with care,
And always make sure that
You’re spatially aware.
Nothingness is harmful,
Keep barren thoughts at bay,
Harness your potential,
And you will win the day.
Let your thoughts be whole-some,
Thinking much less like Freud,
But most of all remember to -
Avoid a void ...
What is the substance
of nothingness
With nothingness the substance
of thought
Where is the truth
in indifference
Apathetically frozen
when taught
How then to measure
reluctance
With action the villain
of time
Seeking to baptize
the vacuum
Where consonants hide
—from the rhyme
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2023)
Somebody ought to go vacuum the moon
All the space dust is starting to show
Somebody ought to take care of it soon
For the wolves are all restless, you know
They say it’s too dingy to give a good howl
And we’re starting to get complaints from the owls
How is it that in the great “vacuum” of space
Someone still left dirty prints on its face?
To save on space and shipping costs
When packages are stacked,
So many items nowadays
Are sent out vacuum-packed.
My daughter’s teddy bear arrived,
All squished up in a ball.
You’d never guess that it could be
A teddy bear at all.
Yet once we managed (it was tough!)
To help the bear get out
From all his plastic, he puffed up
(Despite my nagging doubt).
The modern world has different ways
To send out what we need.
If we could vacuum-pack ourselves,
The airlines would take heed.
The worst wedding gift I ever received was a vacuum cleaner.
I despise vacuuming and my dog hate the sound of it.
I wanted elegant things – glass goblets, droplet prisms,
lace curtains, not a small round annoyingly loud vacuum
cleaner. Thanks Mom and Dad. Great gift! This was before
you could make a list. You got whatever someone else
wanted to get rid of. They ordered a new one for themselves’
we received their hand-me-down-one.
My microcosmos is really a false vacuum.
It may eventually collapse.
I read an article floating in the wind.
I become an unwritten novel.
I watch the ants carry the breadcrumbs
into the dismal soil leading into another world.
I look outside seeing pockets of pain.
I yearn to jettison out of my world on a jet.
A long voyage around the liquid abyss
where silent screams emanate.
The light dims outside.
I await deliverance from Epic Error.
All may eventually collapse into scurrilous beliefs
created by scoundrels.
Am I greater than the sum of my fragments?
I'm too exhausted to answer this.
Persistence is futile in the Kingdom of Pain.
Beating lonely during the night
at my own mind’s celebration,
my heart struggle’s with the victory
of this plan to let you go.
For flowing within the river
of what I’m told is logic’s path
remain’s life’s bitter truth
I’m found now empty without you.
Good was good
and bad was bad
as our worlds spun out of control,
Yet all the while dare it be said
We lived within the thrill.
Never before had I known such love
which bound me so completely
as I surrendered my heart and soul
to live within the vacuum of your world
Darrell
If all
Life exists in a vacuum
Then Hoover stole a march
On all of us
Before anyone else could
And patented the name
For gain
Because we equate value in a
brand and a name
Matter's not of the quality of what
they are selling is
Absolutely second rate tatt we will
buy it anyway
So long as it makes us believe and
we can tell everyone else just how much
it actually costs
More fool us
A kindly lady lives in a large house with her brother, both unmarried, both elderly, say, around seventy. I stayed with them for two years— with the two graceful hosts. More than the income from a paying guest, they seemed to care more for some souls in a two-storied sprawling mansion. Soon you become part of that household. But then, you have to leave the town on transfer, and they let you with a heavy heart. On my part too it is difficult to part. You promise to visit them sometime and leave. But ‘soon’ somehow gets stretched to three long years, and when you manage to visit, it is too late. Death, man’s nearest companion, had called on them, and in a span of a few days, you come to know.
With some sense of sin
You tear away from the scene,
A void whirls within,
Draped in memories
We hang on with heavy heart,
Void’s the way of life.
__________________________
Haibun |07.08.2021|
The intrinsic awareness channeled through time
Drives the cognitive basic impulses incessant
Surging the enveloping waves of enlightenment
Through the formless emptiness of perception.
The pulse of time vibrates in the infinite iinner space
Frequency in harmony with the intonation of eternity
Transition from one manifestation phase to another
Modulated by motivating touch of the illumined soul.
The invisible life force abhors vacuum pervasive
Propels the essence of the existent through the void.
August 10, 2021
For A Brian Strand 1092 Contest
I would love to live forever
In the minds and hearts of men
As long as I could do it
Without doing it again.
I’d cherish every sunrise
Tuck it in at night
Arrest the failing moon
For stealing my suns light.
I’ll carry on forever
In the sons of sons of son’s
Remain here in the shadows
Listening now to distant drums.
Although I live forever
In a vacuum without touch
Time reminds me only
That I love them all so much.
©7/22/2021
IMMORTALITY YES OR NO Poetry Contest
For all the work you do,
those daily chores beyond the norm
in a pinch you come through,
a vacuum cleaner built so strong.
For you my electric power broom
on dust and grit do raid.
You chase dirt from any room.
So very thankful you were made.
A vacuum cleaner, dust buster machine
this is an ode to you
Can't just say you're a woman's routine
a man needs a sturdy one too.
10/6/20
Related Poems