Category: Philosophical

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How Can I

with time erodes the roads of hope
as seconds pass without distinction
wedged between the hourglass
in retrospect, a stranger’s fiction
e’er beholden to the past
shackled by fear’s ersatz depictions
diligently deconstructed
prone to dubious perceptions
doled out in fervid procession
sold out to our indiscretion
futures nigh belie the burdens
of reflective introspection
corporate chains restrain our choices
subjugated minds and voices
commandeering our convictions
volunteering our volition
fostering the hour’s dissension
lost inside our own dimensions
drifting states of lone diremptions
kissed by fate’s unknown afflictions
wistful days of rumination
stripped of our only salvation
dripping death with indignation
listless breaths of consternation
consciously resigned enslavement
viciously maligned by deviants
clamoring to hide misconduct
how can i but not give a fuck

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Elaboration

spoken word is often heard to herd our thoughts en masse
in subdivisions subject to succinctly shorn abash
with tethered tongue endeavor we to eloquently air
ineffable expressions deftly doled out so to spare
gauging our engagements with gratuitous refrain
allowing temporal allotment basis to abstain
from artfully articulating free to affectate
inflection efflorescing to reflect what best relates
when clearly this impairs our proper prepense to impart
by misappropriating that which would impel our heart
predictably afflicting our intended utterance
thus rendering our voice as ineffective abeyance
which leaves us floundering to falter ineffectual
destined to descend depths of diligence misconstrued
should we decree our thoughts conveyed to show evincible
we could forgo distraught dismay deemed reprehensible
for implications minced from assertation’s open end
are subject to inferences of infinite amend
thus, i submit commitment to the full breadth of nuance
in all asseveration to disseminate ensconce
for time must be considered far beyond the imminent
lest we spend all eternity on spurned expedience
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Answer: Ego

why must our presence

present as pendulous peril

perpetually passing

between plausible purpose

and predisposed plight

prolonging pandemonium

to placate pedestrian pedantry

perpetrated by apathetic progenitors

to please their pathetically primitive

predilection for perpetuant personal prospect

through perfunctory procreation

parsimoniously placing province

and perdurable pain

on the passively plucked

personifications

of their phantom permanence?

 

 

 

[image credit: Vittorio Zecchin]

 

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Idle Thoughts

idle thoughts
convict
the
heads of hollow
apparitions

a sentence
of sentient disposition

decomposing
marionettes
in rows of chariots
charging

forged by fear

preoccupation

and abeyant presumption

racing to the finish
lines of faceless pretense

praying
to appease what
is not present

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Time Control

Time doth taint the faint of heart
By painting truth where once stood art
And shining light in corners dark
From ancient moor to morrow’s hark
Perception forged with dawn anew
The day’s deceptions drawn to view
Our misconceptions now construed
With every moment thus imbued
So hapless are we to contest
The trappings of its false arrest
We must abide by its behest
Beholden to our sown duress
But only with its presence nigh
Doth life exist within our eyes
It must persist lest we devise
A narrative bereft of rhyme
We struggle to appease its ire
Befuddled by the muck and mire
This force of nature ne’er retires
The nomenclature of expire
At best, the past and future stations
Merely are but speculation
We have only one salvation
In our present indignation
Futile flights of fantasy
Flown by fools on fated eves
Found fast the path to effigy
Forged by the wrath of flippancy
So when the tower’s bell doth toll
Sing loud its reverie with soul
Think of it not as time control
But that by which all life unfolds

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Existential Impostor

surely

there must be some mistake

perhaps i wandered into
into the incorrect building

you see
i am quite simply not
qualified to be
here

these are neither my peers
nor my contemporaries

i am not in league
with such capable beings

there is no chance
for me
to ever hope to function
at this level

being of sound
heart and mind

this mindful awareness
has impaired me
in more ways
than i ever dare to fathom

my head
so heavy

no sooner can i
lift it from its feathered wrest
than i can
untether from this tempest
of everyday duress

it seems i have unwittingly
piqued gravity’s good will

for it bears down upon me
with the burden of all the heavens

it is such
that i must conclude
the nature of this vaunted god
is that of something wanton

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Sapient Wastrels Subsisting

transmuting mutable emotions
into tragic projections
aired triumphant

the essence of our dissonance
flaunting our afflictions
through depictions of despair

in proud parades of pride displayed
disguised as introspection
devised of indignation

feral fears of primeval impel
fostering our fates
in lives surrendered to placation

impending skies of false illusion
looming truth e’er nigh
belying belief that all is for naught

lost amid the bliss of artifice
remiss to mind the cost
as sapient wastrels subsisting

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Cast Reflections

a mirror stood
before me

i hesitated to look

for fear of seeing

the ugliness
the weakness

the shame
cast to seas of sorrow

the skewed mouth
and squinting eyes

the furrowed brow of condemnation

the cowardice of complacency

the body
time forsook

the heart left to bleed
on sleeves of insolence

wincing reprieve

i strained to raise my head
to actually look
at the abomination
splayed supinely
before me
for all to see

but foreign was this frail affliction
that watched my fears
fade into light

through windows
of my own humanity

to see the world within myself

as myself within the world

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for Venus

her words give birth
to songbirds
arranged in strange striations

and when they call
all the heavens
start to fall as wintry feathers

into the mercy
of an erstwhile whisper

from pursed lips
pricked with petaline pigments

immersed
in otherworldly waves
she bathes the light
triumphant

without her semblance
all is but for naught

to doubt her tenor
fate should heed to falter not

for it is she alone
who shall usher in the dawn
auspicious

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Expression*

each thought, a breath
of restless air
daring to breach realms consequent

separating sound
from silence
bound by ego’s blight
and sleights inferred

surrounding every word
that wanders
out of sight
out of mind
and wayward hope
for rote concurrence

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