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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: DividedQuantum] * 5
    #29599260 -

The Razor’s Edge


The path to serenity, the road to infinity, trundles on the razor’s edge
But he who must search, and assume a high perch, makes a legitimate pledge

The ascetic is seen, by the regular, mean, as a fool worthless wastrel who’s crazy
But that wastrel is keen, with a conscience that’s clean, knowing the studious lazy

One’s no ascetic, in no way pathetic, who has taken a wider perspective
Normal indeed, with no hint of greed, but a hankering for the objective

And so he goes East, the lair of the beast, and finds resonances unsought
A yogi he meets, serenely he greets, to spend time in this land he ought

His awareness it grows, in time it quite knows, that the sought is found in the seeker
Samadhi he attains, spiritually he gains, and he has no more need to peer deeper

This soul is at home, to stay or to roam, wherever it finds its dear body
Living so simply, quite well and so nimbly, authentic and not at all gaudy

The lesson is thus, and no need to fuss, the life not examined’s extraneous
But just the right soul, who sights in the goal, has power—with not a small radius


--------------------
Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: DividedQuantum] * 2
    #29599349 -

Smoking

with hot lungs
and bad breath
and with sticky fingers
on rotating hands of
cold and
not so cold

with frigid soles
that jump around in
old socks
with no shoes
for the sake of
convenience
to save
ten
seconds

with hunched shoulders
that shiver
because the sweater
is old too
and the jacket
was ten
seconds
away

perhaps
it would have been
smart
to move the
shoes and coat
but that would take
twenty
seconds
which is
inconvenient

perhaps smoking is
inconvenient
perhaps being
lazy
is inconvenient
perhaps
winter
is inconvenient
perhaps pleasure
is
inconvenient

then the flame goes
out
and you go
back inside
where it's warm
and you can be
lazy
but you can't smoke
and there is
very little
pleasure


--------------------
"Which of you to gain me, tell, will risk uncertain pains of hell?
I will not forgive you if you will not take the chance"

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: islandsss] * 3
    #29600097 -

Curiosity, Boredom & Heroism

A thousand piece Jig-saw puzzle
not tailored for the feeble
A puzzle's a muzzle
A haystack and a needle

A five-hundred piece puzzle?
that's slightly more easy
And a hundred piece jigsaw?
with that they can tease me

Why can't one solve?
a puzzle that's bigger?
Is it a lack of resolve?
I can't figure with rigor.

Curiosity kills
what kills you makes you weaker
and boredom protects
from dangerous seekers

Yeah my lane sucks
and I do stay in bounds
I just smile and say nothing
there's no content: just sounds

A riddling wit quite alarming
I smile with just silence
I once was self-harming
A survivor of violence.

I know what it means
to play the great hero
to risk my well being
and be crushed into zero

But to try to be clever?
fix stupid? They say never.
And only Buddha assures me
no form is forever.

The thousand piece puzzle?
It is a wise barrister
It's just 60% done...
the hole's in my character.

I once dropped my cleverness
To play hero in heaven
At 45 years of age
I was wiser at seven.

That reckless 18 year old
With no cleverness and restraint
A brief season of cunning
no hero, no saint.

Some consult Tao Te Ching
While others try Jung
it's Socratic aporia
Numb, young and dumb.

With numbers and words
I've been dismembered and flayed
My stupidity was secret,
In this poem? It's displayed.

To conceal one's own foolishness
is what some say is best
but the stupid's an urge
pain to get off my chest

I once said a joke
that was in terrible taste
it made my heart constrict
the control was a waste

Laughing at blunders and disease
At weakness and sinning
It's an instinct for some
it's that desire for winning.

It's easy to laugh
at the peak of your health
when you're high on your horse
protected by wealth

Some put the Ox in paradox.
And the parrot in parrot-dox.

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Cory Duchesne] * 3
    #29610663 -

I enjoyed the tales that he told
For he was a good storyteller

I bought the wares that he sold
For he made vests of infinity

And he made us all out of gold
For he was the star-glazer


--------------------
All communication
is pattern
and rhythm

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Blue Cthulhu] * 1
    #29611060 -

Glazing on a whim,
He came across a puppy who
Had No Home

Therefore,
He became the puppy and
Sniffed his way back to the Great Abode


--------------------
All communication
is pattern
and rhythm

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Blue Cthulhu]
    #29611920 -

Snowing on your sunset
    :sun:
Lakes of fire find freaks freakin' on your fractardlian freakazoid fructured fork fock
:sunstone:

Ram ram ram...

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Blue Cthulhu] * 2
    #29612312 -

(Diss)Inhibiting

Attitudes quite illicit
often try to elicit,
from values explicit
crutches that inhibit
this world's an exhibit 
Lone frog he croaks ribbit
A dipped soaked biscuit
The fool eager to risk it.

My memory of swimming,
it is not very good
No memory of winning
with rightness I would

But the wrongness I feel
When in nothing but shorts
no shirt on my back
And no witty retorts

Just memories of anger
As I joyfully fled
Or in winter, by mistake
knocked my dog with a sled

It's a nice day, I agree
small talk? Ah, no thanks.
You knocked on my door
and my ulcer and angst:

It's private, you see?
your vacations not mine
I'm working and coping
and my money's my time.

My time is my genitals
And no you can't touch
you intrude in my space?
You're asking too much.

To approach me and ask
makes you a bit of an ass
requests out of bounds
Send many to pounds.

Do you know dogs and cats
are surrendered each year?
Euthanized among rats
So think twice offering beer.

If we can't even handle
a dog or cat
what would you do with a human?
No I don't want to chat.

Some say I'm defensive
But I've played on offensive
After offending and pensive
I've become apprehensive.

So do me a favor
And leave it alone
Stop asking me questions
I've been through zen koans.

I'm happy he's got
his kids and his wife
but my cage has been rattled
enough for this life.

The neediness and greed
exhausts me to death
Yeah I practice economy
A treasure I've kept.

And mercy as well
I keep under my arm
restraining my impulse
to give them back harm.

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Cory Duchesne]
    #29613165 -

*( 1 I'm alone, and awake/ 2 Alive as the energy inside the words that I speak in which you read and heard them say/ 3 Im the feelings, that haunts the description of inner being./ 4 I surround the plot with lore: that explores the expirence as if you were really seeing./ 5 I am in total, what you go through. And it become true when you done completing./ 6 im the sun setting, world of words that you forget when, you drift within the evenings sleeping.)



Was written in a mostly "stream of conciousness" style...


Quite enjoyable


-HH


--------------------
I AM YOU
YOU ARE ME
WE ARE ALL
EVERYTHING.

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: 420happyhippy]
    #29615100 -

life's a series o' choices:


to pee or to poop?
in the dear leader's soup
      but
poo in the mouth and piss on the face
is too good for this disgrace
      so
i hope there's a hell
and they've got free real estate there


--------------------
halfass mycology

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: GenericHero] * 2
    #29617039 -

Expanders of Consciousness?

The consumption of drugs
like the assumption of thugs
has the effect of reducing
mankind's freedom in hugs.

Drugs circumscribe the range
of one's interests, so strange
how it impairs their ability
to pursue with agility

An important human aim,
such as raising a family
losing self over fame
the drugs they just trammel me

Civic obligations are neglected
gainful employment is lost
children and elderly not respected
and parasitism is the cost

Far from being expanders
drugs make victims so blind
Consciousness? most drugs
severely limit the mind.

I think you will find
One of the most striking
characteristics of liking
drug-takers is their intense
and tedious self-absorption.

No one seems to have noticed
that a loss of a sense of shame
means a loss of privacy and lotus
a loss of privacy stunts the brain 

What a loss of intimacy means?
no better way to produce
a loss of depth, just gleans
the people they blindly traduce

shallow and superficial people 
living their lives in the open
without concealment of anything.
no future or past, petty hope-in'

When you're thinking of doping,
toking or smoking,
'cause life didn't turn out
the way you were joking

I'm hoping you'll see
our minds were delirious
when we insisted on drugs
to make us less serious.

Pride must be in the work,
and not in the person
Few are so conformist
as the rebellious cursing.

Edited by Cory Duchesne (07/04/26 01:33 PM)

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Cory Duchesne] * 2
    #29617054 -

Political Correctness

He was both eagle and insect:
An eagle soared over society
surveying it to inspect,
each man's privacy and propriety

Boring himself into every
tiny crack and crevice
accumulating each memory
each youth in it's brevis

Nothing was either too large
or too small for his attention;
a politically correct charge
petty details for retention

For the politically correct,
nothing is too large
or too small to erect
a puritanical barge
 
A rule maker to delude
a welfare state moocher
an authoritarian prelude
to a totalitarian future.

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Cory Duchesne] * 2
    #29617067 -

Pure

Puritanical and tyrannical
no garbage left out
computer-phone is the manacle
no social media clout

A broken window expresses
that nobody cares
So they go break some more
in social media scares

On my calendar is set
a Disappointment at one
I'll be there 'bit early
be professional, not fun

No sucking up to the nurse
while complaining of inferiors
Being thin skinned is the worse
What painful interiors

English and mathematics
and a load of psychology
might get you away
from the snares of biology

Pleasure's not been trusted
by the ones who've been burned
by the liars and skanks
or the pimp who unlearned

How to be gentlemen clear
proper in speech and in actions
To not stand quite so near
or just parrot some maxims

Idioms have been exhausted
And aphorisms they pierce
Thieves have been accosted
By a judgement so fierce.

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Cory Duchesne] * 2
    #29617090 -

the decline of religion

The rise in self-obsession
and in self-importance
The atheist's concession
no humility? Discordance!
 
One's unique importance
reconciled with humility.
self-obsession is discordance
and is a great futility

Every man was once
important in the eyes
of a carpenter, no dunce
Godless we're like flies

Man was once at home
in the universe-she
a created Zen koan 
for beings such as he.

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Cory Duchesne] * 2
    #29622966 -

Digital-Content-Consumer

URL-thought-containers
each site begins as an empty jug
bold and bright meme exchangers
the twenty-something dollar drug

Oh content consumer and creator,
with righteous indignation,
do you poke holes in the container?
Do you study litigation?

Do copy-pasted memes,
render an annoyance?
a spiritual atmospheric pollution
of Jungian clairvoyance?

These digital newspaper hoardings
A collection of human sounds
These candy colored fliers
This pareidolia in the clouds

I was a photocopier or a printer
Talented mostly as a copyist
A repetition every winter
Competition of the sloppiest

Rather than complaints
It's a rhetorical attack
a hassling pestering question
A quick jab in the back

It accelerates my biological aging
yes it ages me prematurely
These rhetorical smart ass questions
These puzzles they inure me.

Who frames it out of context
With pain the stable pole
fools take whatever's next
and drift without a goal.

Oh how we wish for wisdom
especially during hardship
when a meager cleverness swiftly fails
to reach a milestone or a yardstick

Company-brand-safety
digital-reputational-harm
to worship the container
intruding makes alarm

genuine satire can result
in flagged account and sanitization
or the loss of that which you exult
loss of page monetization

Digital-url-server farm
what one posts will sow a seed
Is it need or greed that sent you back?
to pick and smoke the weed?

I too have an obsession
with things that caused me harm
My thoughts they tend to race
around whatever caused alarm

When desire dies, then there is fear
And the fear of life it muzzles
Dumb and silent, one cannot talk
Stumped by one-too-many puzzles.

Yes, puzzles and muzzles
are some reoccurring themes
cleverness leaves me speechless
Extinguishing these genes 

Evolution by natural rejection
As the cows feed on the clovers
she makes a better selection
Many humans judged as leftovers.

The doc and the nurse
with their trusty old fetter
their four magic words:
"make you feel better." 

I guess I must be rambling
and now I'm reluctant to submit
For here I'm just a guest
The joke on me I just don't get.

Laughing at myself
was a skill I used to have
I don't know where I learned it
But it was lost through lots of blab.

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: aghorrorag] * 3
    #29629236 -

Another sad but true story.

She spoke in rhythms I couldn't quite catch
Five different tongues, a perfect match
For a world that was bigger than this desert floor
The "Who’s Who" and her name on a wide-open door
I was the rough edge, she was the light
The breadwinner keeping our future tight
So smart, so calm, so perfectly sane
Before the clouds moved in... and invited the rain.

But to give a baby's soul a heartbeat, she had to let go
Of the only anchor that kept her mind slow
A life for a mind, a trade for the light
Bringing life while losing her spark
She sacrificed the "Self" to bring in the "New"
And I stood in the shadow, not knowing what to do.

One month out and the static moved in
Talking to screens where her family had been
Wandering houses, searching for ghosts
While I played the watchman, the hollowest host
I slept on the floor, a guard at the door
But the airport runway wouldn't wait
Blue and Red  lights and sirens, the house turned to grey
They looked for the "dope"... while I showed them the "k"
Prescribed like Prozac, to help through the day.

The last of the money, the groceries bagged
I was worn down, my spirit was lagged
Stepped out of the shower to a smile so WIDE
"I made us dinner," she whispered with pride
Cookies and chicken, the sauces and meat
A five-year-old’s banquet, a bittersweet treat
I lost my composure, I threw it all out
The grocery money, the fear, and the doubt.

To give a baby's soul a heartbeat, she had to let go
Of the only anchor that kept the mind slow
A life for a mind, a trade in the light
Bringing life while losing her spark
She sacrificed the "Self" just to bring in the "New"
And I stood in the shadow, not knowing what to do.


The taillights faded away; a daughter, my family was gone
Leaving me standing in a quieted grown
She was a polyglot, a genius, a queen
Now she’s a child in a world in-between
Did I do it wrong?
Should I have let them take her in?
Or is home just a place where the tragedies begin?




My first wife wanted to have a baby, and to do so, she had to stop taking her Prozac and Mellaril. At the time, I didn't think it was a big deal. She was the smartest person I knew, and I didn't even think she needed to be taking them. Boy, was I wrong.

After stopping the meds, she got pregnant like she wanted, and everything was going well until about two months before her due date. Over that following month, things got really bad, fast. She started hearing things on the radio and seeing her family members on TV. She would wander off, walking right into other people's homes without knocking because she thought her mom or dad was there. I literally had to sleep at the front door to keep her from wandering out while I was asleep. One time, I dozed off watching TV and was woken up by the police, who were looking for drugs after they found her wandering out on the airport runways.

After our daughter was born, it didn't get better; it got worse. Our funds were very limited since I made about a third of what she did, so we had almost no money. I had just spent the absolute last of our cash on groceries. When we got home, I took a shower, and when I got out, she was standing there looking so happy because she had cooked us dinner. When she took me to the kitchen to show it to me, I realized she had taken all our new groceries, mixed them into one big pot, and cooked them together.

I lost my mind. I grabbed the food and tossed it out the door, yelling and screaming. She reacted like a small child and started crying. I felt horrible, but I was so overwhelmed and just didn't know what to do. She called her mother; her parents came and picked her up, and that was the very last time we were together.

Thirty years later, they never could get her balanced back completely, and she never really came back.


--------------------
☮

Edited by West Texas Grit (07/21/26 03:32 PM)

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: West Texas Grit] * 2
    #29630946 -

I couldn't leave this on a shity note because most of my work isn't so dark as above...

Angels come and touch the soul with a frequency so deep,
But then the static returns, and they have promises to keep.
It seems they always have to go, fading back into the light,
Leaving us lucky for the time, but cold, lost in the night.

They’re watching from a distance now, from a place beyond the stars,
Hoping we remember the roadmap of their lives and who they are.
Always watching, always waiting, tuned into the things we do,
Knowing we’ll find our way back home if their lessons hold us true.

So here I stand, a man who thinks he’s good at the very core,
Just a little lost in the direction, standing at an open door.
"You’ve got to grow up now," is the story I am constantly told,
But to be honest, I think that’s a task for when I’m gray and truly old.

The angels, they drop into our lives like a signal in the dark,
Showing us that life is alright, leaving a permanent mark.
They show us love can be air-tight, a shield against the gale,
Teaching us how to live right before they step behind the veil.

Then the silence rushes back, and they leave me feeling spent,
Just another lost and hollow soul in a broken, tattered tent.
Why do they have to leave? Why in the hell wasn’t it me?
They were righteous, they were good, everything a man should be.

I’m standing here bitter and cold, watching the wreckage unfold,
While they were the ones making it better, or so the story’s told.
Why? Why? Why? I keep asking, as the world turns on its gear,
Why were they sent to save us, only to vanish and disappear?

Deep in the gears of my broken heart, the truth begins to rise:
They were here to show me the light through a News Reporter’s eyes.
To show me the goodness, the love, and the righteousness in the air,
To teach me how to move above the weight of all this dark despair.

They taught me how to love. They taught me how to actually care.
They taught me the hardest lesson of all: that life is never fair.
But they showed me how to walk with my head held high in the wind,
To show me that someone is watching, despite the places I have been.
They showed me the "Fixed-Point Star," they showed me GOD is really there,
And the last thing they left me with is the knowledge of a "Better There."


--------------------
☮

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: West Texas Grit] * 1
    #29632587 -

Wormtown is a place
Of an elastic race
Of tubular beings who groove grit with grace
Until our minds are erased.


--------------------
All communication
is pattern
and rhythm

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: West Texas Grit] * 1
    #29632602 -

West Texas Grit said:
I couldn't leave this on a shity note because most of my work isn't so dark as above...



You went from dark to gray!

I enjoyed both, sounds like you've been through some harrowing experiences.


--------------------
All communication
is pattern
and rhythm

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: Blue Cthulhu] * 1
    #29633137 -

Haven't we all, though? And hey, I'll take 'grey' over dark any day, though I was aiming for a little bit closer to happy! 😄 I think learning from all this is exactly why we're here. I appreciate the comment.


--------------------
☮

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Re: The Official Post Your Own Poetry Thread. [Re: West Texas Grit] * 2
    #29635779 -

Creatures crocheting crotcheted cockroaches
Are creating the Whole World
From the bottoms up
Of tangled turtles
Tossing salads seaweed green
Unseen visions reversing scenes
From childhood memories of starlit seams
Inverted filters, screens, and plugs
And concave hugs from Cosmic Bugs

The crotcheted cockroaches
Are their latest creation...

BEHOLD!


--------------------
All communication
is pattern
and rhythm

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