Weak Life Search On Google
surfing on reality-oriented weakness
no hope for the future
huts dawned at death
technological breaths through poor imitation
i am sitting on the wave of googled truths
hearing Dortoyevsky's words 'I will choose God rather than truth if I have to'
faulty faces foolish mornings dissolving into the realm of xeroxed poetics
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lOGIC of Uncertainty
No criticism dissolving into the reality of nowhere
Who can say you are so true to yourself
Swaying leaves falling from the sky of limitless hope called 'being human' the address in the world of no reconigination
Dead brain dead imaginatoin dead future without maps
Calling out on the piano blackenede truths
Diving into the pooof heartless decision
No ending but only labyrith on floating education
Short of Breath
One breath, two breaths, three breaths, four,
my breathing’s weak and my chest is sore.
Five breaths, six breaths, seven breaths, eight,
I have to breathe deeply at a slower rate.
One breath, two breaths, three breaths, four,
I’m four breaths closer than I was before.
Five breaths, six breaths, seven breaths, eight,
my mouth’s wide open, but I can’t inflate.
One breath, two breaths, three breaths, four,
it’ll be the end when I breathe no more.
Five breaths, six breaths, seven breaths, eight,
I’m sure someone's rattling heaven's gate.
One breath, two breaths, three breaths, four,
well that’s it, I can't count no more.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Choose You
In all the creation tha the creator has created
I choose you to be vulnerable to
I choose you to be broken in front of
I choose you to show the weaker side of the giant that I am
I choose you to show the inner being I never showed to any human being
At the strength of my weakness
I only have the strength to choose
My weakness is too strong to allow me to back off
My weakness is too strong to allow me to change my mind
My weakness is too strong to allow me to vacillate, oscillate or fluctuate
At the strength of my weakness
I still have a second chance to choose
I still choose you
poem by Philani Zincume
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blank Faces
Why are they gasping?
And looking in shock about?
'It is dawning on them,
There is a 'reality' to truth.'
Isn't reality...
The truth?
'They just discovered it.
But let's keep our faces blank.
We'll pretend we have no clue,
What they are talking about.
Here comes one now...
Rushing towards us,
Looking scared to death.
Hopefully they will run right past us.
Ready...set...GO!
Blank faces.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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.
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.
Father Death Blues
Hey Father Death, I'm flying home
Hey poor man, you're all alone
Hey old daddy, I know where I'm going
Father Death, Don't cry any more
Mama's there, underneath the floor
Brother Death, please mind the store
Old Aunty Death Don't hide your bones
Old Uncle Death I hear your groans
O Sister Death how sweet your moans
O Children Deaths go breathe your breaths
Sobbing breasts'll ease your Deaths
Pain is gone, tears take the rest
Genius Death your art is done
Lover Death your body's gone
Father Death I'm coming home
Guru Death your words are true
Teacher Death I do thank you
For inspiring me to sing this Blues
Buddha Death, I wake with you
Dharma Death, your mind is new
Sangha Death, we'll work it through
Suffering is what was born
Ignorance made me forlorn
Tearful truths I cannot scorn
Father Breath once more farewell
Birth you gave was no thing ill
My heart is still, as time will tell.
poem by Allen Ginsberg
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Riches And Poverty
Men speak of riches and poverty, two extremes of our reality,
But, for many, it would seem, they never enter either extreme,
Some, attaining all they require, never seek to rise any higher,
Some are content living small, but into poverty they never fall.
There are two other extremes, as many chase present dreams,
Woven into the present reality, we see the realm of spirituality,
In the scope of man’s diversity, is an indifference we can see,
Creating in some indecision, caused by man’s worldly religion.
While many recognize The Lord, by many, God is just ignored,
And all following Jesus Christ, become rich in this present life,
But, all who choose to ignore, God, will remain spiritually poor,
Giving rise to spiritual poverty, along with a spiritual prosperity.
There’re men who go to church, week after week as they perch,
Within their very favorite pew, but, never have been born anew,
Hearing those they espouse, thinking there are in God’s house,
Empty sermons are all they preach, as Truth they do not teach.
Many religious people you know, are churched, but never grow,
Falling away, into apostasy, becoming impoverished spiritually;
The poor shall always be friend, until this Age comes to an end,
As true riches all believers see, when with God we enter Eternity.
(Copyright ©05/2010)
Truth Defined…
Truths not what happened yesterday
Historians have a way of telling lies
Truths not how the future wants to play
Uncertainty can’t be tamed or organized
See the truth in every moment
Truth thrives in the “Here n’ now”
You will find to your amazement…
Truth has no need for “What or how”
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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.
My Hope Is In You
Rise and shine.
Rise above the barriers.
Rise above conspiracy.
Rise, my hope is in you.
I hope for a better day,
Tomorrow...
I hope for a great weather,
Tomoroww...
I hope for joy and success,
Your success.
My hope is in you.
My hope is in you.
I hope peer pressure
Won't mislead you..
I hope you understand,
Fun doesn't mean, ,
VIOLENCE, RISK and DANGEROUS!
I hope you live up,
Not to my expectations,
But to your possible opportunities.
Just be a kid, , ,
And i'll be a caring parent.
Just listen, , ,
And i'll inspire you.
My hope for this country
Is in you.
For you are the future
Of the nation.
Choose education,
Choose alcohol and drug
Free life.
Choose success not sorrow.
Because my hope is in you.
My hope is in you.
Be robust and intrepid,
Be courageous and considerate,
Be wise and focus on your
Future because,
My hope is in you.
poem by Siyabonga A nxumalo
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Words On Conceptual Poetry(9)
where are you sitting on? we are nothing as important as the language we are using everyday.the most important thing in poetry is concept practising pratical physical realities around your life, dissolving into the spirit of individual moral development without which we cannot live with genuine mental potentialities
so where are you sitting on?
what are you looking for?
who are you working for?
the answers are in the process of appropriate tactics which i donot believe in as it is not going for diversivied existence but for romantic obession of truths
this is only a part of the things you can see or speculate about it, not the whole picture of the things
where are you sitting on now?
are you sure that you are sitting?
what is your mind working on?
An Echoing Truth
In a world of right and wrong, we have Truth, that echoes strong,
And from the world’s ancient past, God’s Truth shall forever last,
To be for men a guide and light, for discerning wrong from right;
God’s Guiding Truth for every need, when souls choose to heed.
God’s Word echoes loud and clear, as men of true wisdom fear,
God who reigns above the earth, who gives The Word true worth,
God, Who spoke this world in place, opens hearts by His Grace,
And with that Grace He will impart, Eternal Truth into man’s heart.
A Book, that many seldom read, has the Truth that all men need,
While others never even heard, the Eternal Truths in God’s Word;
Eternal Truths that man can trust, which were written for all of us,
Truth revealed to all the world, which all believers need to herald.
This truth’s more than knowledge of, The One who reigns above,
But what He had did for everyone, sending Christ, His Only Son,
His Truth, revealed to every nation, leads a soul to His Salvation,
When they come to Jesus Christ, that soul, receives Eternal Life.
Open The Word and you will see, Truth about our present reality,
And you will see through history, others pointing men to eternity,
How Godly men of old would tell, others about Heaven and Hell,
Knowing all are just one breath, away from Eternal Life or Death.
(Copyright ©06/2010)
Which Is Which
> To beware of the truth.
> Is truth...it, self?
> So, what is truth?
>
> Is truth, true love?
> Or...just a reality?
> To be a man...is that truth?
>
> A man...is reality.
> A woman...is reality.
> To be woman...is that truth?
>
> To have more then one partner
> Is a reality of the world.
>
> Which this world agrees.
> Truth is; in my point of view
> Is what one claims to be truth.
>
> But, the truth is whatever you
> Are doing as I speak.
> A woman is good for the soul.
>
> That truth is very bold.
> A man lives for his manhood
> So I am told.
>
> Is it truth or reality?
> Respect is in the middle of the spectrum.
> Male vs. Female
>
>
> That is truth.
> Man being woman
> A reality.
>
> Woman being man...
> She tries.
> Respect cover both the unreal and the wise.
>
> Truth or reality...we never really
> Give it much thought.
> Maybe it was the way we are taught.
>
> Truth or reality...
> Which is Which?
>
>
> whisperkwane
>
> [email protected]
>
>
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Tree of Homing certainty
ironic representation is killing the deconstructive ability of laughters
Please keep a value of intellect on 3Rs
recognition, realization and revolution in innovating life
upside down the reality as the world is seemingly in the hole of seduction
surfing on the surface of recognition
going deep into the realization of trans-reality
breezing on the smooth surface of revolution
a tree of deconstructive construction touching moments on timings of life
recognition, realization and revolution are apples to be eaten by the force of grativy-oriented incidents
Cultivation Of Whites Are Shouting Silently
echoed truths diving into the imagination of black holed crutches
you are actually a palm of future
vegetarian wishes on the face of darkened gongs
office full of wired relationship immature
play, play, play with gayed truths
nobody knows the truths of broken reality
outsiders holing the wheels of fortune
distance calls from the minesis oddesey
abyssed shrilled and fawled crushes on the cutting edge loyality to divinity
still cultivating the whites of silenced future
dawn
Art is not merely an imitation of the reality of nature, but in truth a metaphysical supplement to the reality of nature, placed alongside thereof for its conquest.
quote by Friedrich Nietzsche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Want to Be True
I don't want to be clever or witty or wise
I just want to be true.
Truth?
Truth was us when, inside me, you looked into my eyes and found my love,
Truth was us when we laughed and played,
Truth was us when you cared too much for me to make love to me,
Truth was us, when knowing me, you were brave in your words and helped me be true.
Truth?
Truth was your tenderness, your joy, your heart.
Truth was my surrender, my giving, my happiness.
Truth was your love, was my love, was the love we created between us.
The truth was our honesty and ease.
Truth?
Truth is the emptiness I feel at my loss of you,
Truth is my naïve hope, all present, that you will come to me,
Truth is the pain at night while I grieve for you,
Truth is my smile and my love playing the memories.
Truth is this moment, the now, the present.
The truth is I had something more than wonderful, and I can't have it anymore.
The truth is I so wish I was with you.
Truth?
So many truths?
I will be true in the moment. x
poem by Susan Cook
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do You Fear?
Do you fear you have faked your emotion in an elaborate illusion of truth?
Do you believe that man is lucky in his limitations? As an eternity upon
This plain would shower upon any man the suffering of the years,
The death of all he would see and never join back within the circle,
He would never know the third realm, for before birth is the past of
Our souls, the mortal realm is a present whole, just as death is the
Undeniable future for us all. So do you believe that man is lucky?
For if a god is immortal but forgotten unto the achieves of mans history
Does it mean that they suffer an eternity in silence when no mortal
Shall offer libations for them until some ancient relic is found beneath
The surface of some red dirt desert sand? Are we alone the hands that feed
The gods as they walk throughout the realm of man jealous of his ability
To die and be one with all? Are we not they who would fall upon our knees
To know all there is to know? Restore the volume of your hearts first sigh.
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words
Flowery words may tickle the ears; even delight the person who hears.
Flowery words are not what I choose, if you desire to just be amused.
For I am truly not a poet my friend, and poetry is not my ultimate end.
Poetry is simply my chosen venue, this to share God’s Truth with you.
The words of men who went before, these are the words I underscore.
They may not be the poet’s choice, but they echo that important voice,
That one who spoke words of Life, The Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
Words echoed today for you and I, and this long after our Savior died.
Words of Truth are what I impart, hoping to comfort or change a heart.
Changing souls one heart at a time, for this is Christ’s humble design.
His words are not meant to enthrall, but be a hope and comfort for all.
The words not meant to entertain, but address the issue of sin’s stain.
I will continue to write as I’m moved, for friend I have nothing to prove.
And friend you have nothing to lose, as it is His Truth that you choose.
His words of Truth are tried and true, the words that I share with you.
My friend, the end of each poem, for me, is one page closer to home.
It is simply a poem at the start, but then The Spirit moves in my heart,
And The Spirit’s words fill my pen, with The Savior’s hope for all men.
As I echo all these men of the past, it is a Hope that will eternally last.
When I enter my heavenly abode, a place above I’ll forever call Home.
(Copyright ©03/2006)