The Chaos Caused By Its Absence
This isn't about appealing to conceptual ideals.
Or the chasing of dreams,
Almost close to one's fingertips while one skips joyfully...
Through lush green playing fields scented with mint.
No.
This is not from that script.
This is about awakening each day to appreciate life.
And ridding oneself from the appetite of being uptight,
From Sunrise to Sunset over issues people share.
And for what reason?
To drag around that baggage on one's back?
That's a conceptual ideal.
And regardless of the number of people accepting that,
One does not have to be trapped to conform.
Or adopt it as if a long lost relative,
One feels compelled and obligated...
To invite to stay forever in one's home.
On a one for all; all for one agitating basis.
No.
That too is a conceptual ideal,
For those into stories that bind to keep minds held hostage.
The secret to keeping one's peace of mind,
Is not to be so quick to buy into stolen sob stories told.
People have grown so accustomed to lieing.
It seems from birth people are protected,
Against any evidence of reality.
That is the first concept idealized to keep truth minimized.
And avoided at all cost.
No matter the chaos caused by its absence.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Introduction to a post-conceptual poetry
AFTER CONCEPTUALISM, MATERIALITY AND CONCEPTUALITY HAS NO TENSION BUT ONLY MOEMNT-TO-MOMENT CONTEMPLATION ON REAL AND ACTUAL REALITY-REALITY-DISSPPEARANCE-PREJUDICES INSIGHT.WOW!
THIS IS WHAT I CALL 'UNCREATIVE MEDICINE! ! ! ! ! ! !
a POST-CONCEPTUAL POETRY IS UNCREATIVE MEDICINE FOR CREATIVE CONCEPTUAL BOREDOM! ! ! ! ! POSTING CONTEMPORARY INTO THE BORDER-AWARENESS OF CONCEPTUALISM TO GET OUT OF THE TRAP OF CONCEPTUAL FRAME OR TESTING THE CONCEPTUAL FRAME.WHAT IS A CONCEPT?
NOV 10,2010
YANGON, MYANMAR
CRAZY FOX INTERNET CAFE
Words on Conceptual Poetry
no points in making a bridge of connected reality.what is art? A for articiality/authenticity.R for reality/repitation.T for time/truth.this is what art is about.
art of reality and art of proff/witness is atr of conceptual poetics.
proof makes meaning, not meaning making system.
reality makes conceptual poetry, not concept.
Contemporary Sublime Poetry(2012)
What is contemporary sublime in contemporary poetry?
1) concept and conceptual pattern and stucture in poetry(e.g.discussions, seminal culture, negotiation and reinterpretations...)
2) Third mind and fourth mind culture; more than one culture in mentall formations and sensations in parallel or in conjuction with
3) Realizing conceptual and post-conceptual poetry in details, not totally.
(If you want to have a discussion about this, call me at 09-730-57-103) you are welcome! ! ! ! !
Introduction To Post-conceptual Poetics(2)
conceptual poetry is not like poetry but post-conceptual poetry is more like a poem of immortal death-death reflecting the happening of death.At the same time death or concept or conceptual metaphor becomes a butterfly flying into the textual eyes of the reader, reflecting and analysing the post -death death, poetics of life which can only be grasped by changing levels of realizing energy of focus on the combination of truth-condition and satisfaction-condition.This is the ghosted identity of post-conceptual poetics in the 21st century digital-culture raising hunanity in a surversive way.
Introduction To Post-conceptual Poetics(3)
conceptual poetry is not like poetry but post-conceptual poetry is more like a poem of immortal death-death reflecting the happening of death.At the same time death or concept or conceptual metaphor becomes a butterfly flying into the textual eyes of the reader, reflecting and analysing the post -death death, poetics of life which can only be grasped by changing levels of realizing energy of focus on the combination of truth-condition and satisfaction-condition.This is the ghosted identity of post-conceptual poetics in the 21st century digital-culture raising hunanity in a surversive way.
An introduction to post-conceptual poetics(2)
(1) analysis of consciousness: sensational realities is just illusive run-away, no existence but the engagement of mind and sensational objects.
(2) mind is the open abstraction which is depending on sensation to draw picture of prejudices; the management of or rearrange of prejudices lures the person who makes poetry.
(3) so, the important thin line between sensations and mind should be awared or else the conceptual uncertainty cannot be realized.
(4) reexamining the conceptual frame or conceptual identity should always be contemplated in post-conceptual poetics.
(5) it is not the improvisation which make poetic text but the skilled contemplative abstraction-led silence play and make the world of uncreative capacity, the deepest core of the concept democracy in post-conceptual poetics.
(6) a machinery of building a house within and outside the house with and without home and homelessness.
(7) a human machinery and an existentialist's consciousness on emotion is recognised in a postmodern deconstructive way.
My Ideal Man
A man of 360 degrees personality.
A man of many colours.
A man of many souls,
Suited for every single season,
Tailored for a fair number of tasks.
He is my ideal man.
It is not his outward beauty,
But his devastating internal brilliance.
A man of amazing aspiration,
Who issues incredible inspiration.
You are my ideal man.
A man like a magnet,
Drawing into his fold and bosom,
All panaches of people,
‘Cos he commands remarkable respect,
And radiates astonishing admiration.
That is my ideal man.
A man like Solomon,
Displaying incomparable intelligence,
Demonstrating wondrous wisdom,
Deadly dependable for solutions,
A consistent counselor,
And a handy one-stop resource center.
You are my ideal man.
A man of the people,
Sympathetic and exceptionally empathetic, ,
Firm but flagrantly fair,
Identifying persistently with the people,
Fighting with and for the people,
Sharing joy and pain with the people.
You are my ideal man.
My ideal man,
Lastly but foremost,
A paragon of a God-fearing person.
With biblical statutes his only standards.
A man honourable but humble,
A man of humility and humor,
A man of love, peace and truth,
A man of Godly justice,
Not fearing whose ox is jabbed.
He is my ideal man
poem by Emmanuel Oduro
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Conceptual Parrot
The duty he is performing is that of:
1) making dead people with eroded souls alive by reciting and giving uncreative medicines-a conceptual poetry
2) keeping traditional beaty and local sense of unity
3) making geospychological preversations
4) driving Moral upliftings
5) cultivating conceptual culture
Aconceptual parrot is singing a humanity song with heart and soul.
poet nyein way
MCPS
Introduction To Post-conceprual Poetics(3)
post-conceptual poetics is a redefination of being a robotics in digital age, humanity in the conceptual frame of digital machinery, a machinery of reflection on the machinery set ut by I-machinery in the operation of social and intellectual capital.A dead butterfly knowing that she can fly over death with language of conceptual networks growing out of the mixture of digitalization and socialization-intellectualization process.WOW.
All ideologies are idiotic, whether religious or political, for it is conceptual thinking, the conceptual word, which has so unfortunately divided man.
quote by Jiddu Krishnamurti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Glitz, Glimmer and Rhinestone
For some reason,
Glitz, glimmer and rhinestone...
Seem to go together.
Like movies and TV.
And some people overheard in conversation.
If someone is in the need of costuming,
To enhance a 'theme'...
Or dress up to play 'make believe',
One would think people generally leave the 'real' stuff
Behind...
With an acknowledgement in their minds,
There is a time and a place that seperates fact...
From fiction.
And making long lasting impressions,
Requires one to be in touch with a bit of honesty.
At least the kind of honesty that is removed from gloss.
Unless...
Everyone has been in costume.
And those accustomed to being fake...
Take for granted,
That everything connected to life...
As they know life to be,
Has always been one they fantasized.
And lieing to oneself is accepted.
Since going through the motions is all one knows.
Isn't fake the new reality,
Today.
Even when the cameras are 'on'.
To catch what it is,
Being what it is!
Whatever 'What-it-is'...
Is!
And folks are being paid to...
Downgrade!
THAT is 'reality' for far too many people!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Stories
when we were young stories were told
That I'd kiss you sweet like
People said there was a connection between us
Now that we're old stories are told
Of how I hold you tight
Whenever I see those people I tell them they were right
Stories will be told
From when our children are young
until they're old
About our endless love
We must have had a blessing from above
Stories will be told until we're old
Stories will be told until the end of time
Stories will be told until we're old
Stories will be told until the end of time
Until the sun won't rise
Oh
song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Life Of A Conceptual Phoenix
Life Of A Conceptual Phoenix
One: a poor block uneducated but most are honest
read a lot of books
Gorky's university of life
Two: a little bit complex in the life
buying and selling things in the small market
pursuing formal education without future
under socialist party's dictatorial administration
Three: a literary life
freedom, equality and democracy are the norms
Four: Sandwitched by obsessive ego and aggressive ego
in a paranoid and schizophrenic towns
Five: a conceptual phoenix has got back his own nature has lost for a long life
Six: Character killing happened because of
1) Inferiority complex
2) Jealousy
3) born attitude
4) black ambitious mentality cultivated
5) Fame, money and sex
6) possession of high educational pride
7) guns, power, concepts which make a man an animal
*8) lack of contemplated wisdom
9) no community sense for the good of people
10) no loving kindness
Life Is Truly Like A Stage
If we filmed all our lives,
Would people watch us as we cry,
Would people listen to our lies,
Would people sorrow as we die?
If our stories were to be told,
Would people let the stories unfold,
Would people notice us be so bold,
Would people love us as we grow?
If our lives were to intertwine,
Would people drink it as a wine,
Would people lurk as we shine,
Would people sit as we dine?
If we had a song to sing,
Would people listen to everything,
Would people know our love is like a ring,
Would people know you are my queen?
If we all had an undying love,
Would people let it fly like a dove,
Would people turn to the gods above,
Would people know of our true love?
If I had one thing to give,
Would people know your love is why I live,
Would people know the joy, to me, you give,
Would people know for your love I'd jump a cliff?
If you had one thing to take,
It would be my soul so great,
Now that people know my fate,
It is that my love for you came too late.
poem by Matthew Jenkins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To You, Africa
You are a beautiful terra firma
With beautiful people
Rich in history
Rich in prosperity
You are a land of life hard lived
Through droughts and famines
Your people had a lot to give
Your villages were of close community
Unlike that of civilization
You were the best example
that the world could have seen
Then the toubob began to arrive
And your people were taken
With no regard for your childrens lives
I know you are still shaken
Taken from the land they loved
Shoving their beloved Earth into their mouth
For one last taste of you, Africa
Your people have been stolen
Your people have been killed
Your generations have been lost
Your families have been torn apart
Your people have been enslaved
Your women have been raped
Your people have long suffered
Your people have lived through misery
Stolen for what purpose
Other than to be a serf
Some say it could have been worse
But we know it was the worst
Africa, your people are great
Your people are strong
Your people survived through it all
Your people still sung their songs
After 1865 they were freed
Yet still they were enslaved it seemed
Today there are still places that ban your people
Brought here unwillingly, to this 'land of the free'
Your people are who can change this nation
Your people are here for that reason
All hope is not lost
We will succeed regardless of the cost
This is to you, Africa
poem by Ryan Sanders
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Limitless Thoughts, For Hune
Buddha was married, had a child, was a prince
with all anyone could ever want in the material
world. when he got out in the world, he saw
suffering, he felt it, and change began.
he left behind what he had, and began his search...
but what he searched for for so long was already
there... it always is!
there is truly no inner and outer world, that is
an illusion put forth by our conceptual minds...
what is, is!
he learned to let go of conceptual understanding,
and to just live! a part of that which breathes,
and is beyond time and human understanding...
there are no words for this, words are limited,
and often misconstrued! and what we are talking
about is limitless...
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Their Closest Relatives
People hypnotized and transfixed,
Have grown more accustomed
To their movie productions.
And those creative emotional TV shows.
So accustomed to myths,
People are.
And the praying to what is believed,
To what has been embedded
In their minds,
Exists.
People do not wish to be told,
About the thought process of Nature.
And how that goes.
Or about Earth and Mother Nature.
The relationship between them.
How that works and what they know.
People wish and desire to accept,
They are more powerful
Than that which 'allowed' them life,
And gave to them breath.
People reject with a dismissing of this,
That which gifted them and permitted their lives.
People have grown more accustomed,
To their movie productions.
And those creative emotional TV shows.
Yet,
Give zero respect to their closest relatives.
The Sun, The Moon
And how together,
They affect their lives lived here on Earth.
People have chosen to become accustomed,
To ignoring as if they do not hear or listen.
Or are aware of them with comprehension.
People choose not to accept this as is.
People choose to believe from that which exist,
They are not born from it.
People choose for themselves to believe,
For them
There is no connection to perceive.
Even though what is they can not conceive,
Flows through their veins and bleeds!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
For Them It's Automatic
People lie and they like it...
Just that way.
People lie out of habit,
Like a sport...
To play!
It is in their eyes as if there's something to hide!
And there are those people lieing to defy with denying.
People lie and they like it...
Everyday.
People lie out of habit,
And it's here to stay!
It's in their eyes as if there's something to hide!
And there are those people lieing defying to deny,
They are lieing out of habit since for them it's automatic.
People lie and they like it...
Just that way.
Lieing out of habit since for them it's automatic.
People lie and they like it...
Everyday.
Lieing out of habit since for them it's automatic.
People lie and they like it...
Just that way.
Lieing out of habit since for them it's automatic.
It's in their eyes as if there's something to hide!
Lieing out of habit since for them it's automatic.
People lie and think,
They're in disguise.
And lieing out of habit since for them it's automatic.
People lie and think,
They're in disguise.
And lieing out of habit since for them it's automatic.
And lieing out of habit since for them it's automatic.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Why are people always
Why are people always cheating?
Why are people always fighting?
Why are people always dieing?
Why are people always crying?
Why are people always hating?
Why are people always debating?
Why are people always trading?
Why are people always trying to fit in?
Why are people always cursing?
Why are people always bursting?
Why are people always tripping?
Why are people always not trying to be fair?
Why are people always trying to be dumb?
Why are people always playing too much?
Why are people always misbehaving?
Why are people always do drugs?
Why are people always not trying to have a future?
Why do people always try to ruin their life?
Why?
poem by Shaquan Mack
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A cartoon's speech
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
popet nyein way