Unincorporated Insights VII
Are we blinded by irrelevancy?
Do our apotropaic impulses
Blacken our natural radiancy,
Fading each ray of light as it pulses?
Why do we sous rature our honesty? —
Filtering it through the media's veil,
Fearing the release and the amnesty
We want, letting resignation prevail.
Why do we design newer deities
That deafen the voices that long to speak?
Why not relieve pressing anxieties
And articulate meaningful critiques?
There is no reason to be a minion
In the realm of persuasive dominion.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Unincorporated Insights
What context contributes toward meaning?
What illusive patterns outline our thoughts?
What process prevents mindless careening
Into tangles of intangible knots—
Into the depths of deeply-rooted seeds
Of imponderable definition?
And what flower does theodicy breed
By the threat of holistic omission?
What cryptic mysteries do we express,
Though in traces of vagrant memories—
Perhaps causing us to hide and repress
Them beneath our transient reveries?
What codex—so voiceless—do we create?
What emergent grammar elucidates?
What emergent grammar elucidates
The syntax of our juxtaposition?
Why must we meander and gravitate
Toward the pull of blank exposition?
We speak in indefinite articles,
Communicating as a formality?
Our dreams are overlapping particles,
Transposed over strips of reality.
Our intellects are woven by conflict,
Disproportionate threads that braid our lives.
Ideas coalesce to contradict
Where what we call logic attempts to thrive.
We design ignorance, always preening
The language that has been intervening.
The language that has been intervening
Interrupts the words we would like to say,
Mercilessly and stringently cleaning
Our voice, removing what viewpoints convey.
Therefore, we conjure the chiffon lexis:
A vagary of coded expressions
That dilute our colloquial axis—
Our terminology of discretion.
We relinquish comprehension and
Dilapidate whatever we might learn
In the grip of the Invisible Hand
Which guides us to our tenuous concerns.
All the while, idiocy saturates
With our illocutionary mandates.
With our illocutionary mandates,
Why does anyone make sense anymore?
Verbally, our tongue only translates
All the talk that has been spoken before.
We erase our culture with social platforms.
Our lives are forced to conform to the contours
That more often confuse or misinform—
Drawing images we ought to ignore.
We are bound to the art of artlessness,
Secured to an emptiness that lingers—
Taught that obsession will lead to success,
Explaining ourselves through index fingers
That point to nowhere (nowhere completely) .
For what reason do we speak un-freely?
For what reason do we speak un-freely,
Relegating ourselves to elision?
Our motives are spoken clandestinely,
Enshrouded by baseless omission.
As zombie hoards packed in a ballet box,
Groaning for a persona non grata,
Our disheveled culture carelessly stocks
Its thoughts of banal desiderata.
We replace facts with comforts and patterns.
We substitute our fate for the future—
Devoured like the many sons of Saturn,
Relinquishing our delineature.
We dismantle our bloodlines and unions,
Cauterized by divergent opinions.
Cauterized by divergent opinions,
We remain stagnant as our lives progress,
Similar to the hipolimnion—
With its waters still, aching to express.
The erumpent and sluicing fluids
Of understanding and dialectics
Flow in a stymied, wholly languid
Way when we need something apoplectic,
Something fluttering with violence and
Roaring with rage and swooning with romance.
Let us not pretend that we understand.
Let us be carried away as the advance
Cavalcades, washing out redundancy.
Are we blinded by irrelevancy?
Are we blinded by irrelevancy?
Do our apotropaic impulses
Blacken our natural radiancy,
Fading each ray of light as it pulses?
Why do we sous rature our honesty? —
Filtering it through the media's veil,
Fearing the release and the amnesty
We want, letting resignation prevail.
Why do we design newer deities
That deafen the voices that long to speak?
Why not relieve pressing anxieties
And articulate meaningful critiques?
There is no reason to be a minion
In the realm of persuasive dominion.
In the realm of persuasive dominion,
We are grinding in mechanized fittings,
Smashing in the roll of pressing pinions,
Watching as our heads— crushing and splitting—
Massage into a rouge polish for gears.
Our thoughts slowly gloss over orange rust—
Now crusting with our suppurated smears—
As the accruements shift and readjust.
Why do we pancake our skin and our bones,
Flattening our pursuits and our passions?
Why melt each other to produce clones
Portioned to consume commodity rations?
As we instill and install these values,
Fallacies that we believe in argue.
Fallacies that we believe in argue,
Challenging each other—conflicting lies.
Veracity wallows out of our view—
In either a subterfuge or disguise.
We become confused, trying to translate
The coded hieroglyphics that carom
Over lofty expectations— to spate
Our process like a gyrating maelstrom.
Glabrous, fulgurated electrical
Strikes beam through the core of the whirling storm,
And the skies rain an antithetical
Slathering as the dry climates deform.
The weather is forced— through harsh coercion—
By the Holy right of their assertions.
By the Holy right of their assertions,
We permit more for a selective few—
The few that would live by their dispersion;
The few that dispel, for others, virtue;
The few that show an eidetic éclat
In our too-nictitated memories;
The few preaching their secular Salat,
So that we may bow to their glories.
By the Holy right of economics,
We accept their pure Word as Biblical,
Building pietistic ergonomics
That subsidize on the unnatural.
They pardon their afflatus as it spews,
Disseminating what is maybe true.
Disseminating what is maybe true
Causes us to scatter ourselves like seeds.
Our promulgating ideals will strew
Themselves, rooting within our pseudo-needs.
We watch them knot and snarl beneath our feet,
Disheveling the ground on which we stand.
We watch the branches, gnarling with conceit,
Above our heads as they shadow our land.
We watch the ossified stem sprouting out,
Latching onto the world with a vice-grip,
Standing firm as cement, both thick and stout,
Causing terra firma to bust and split—
And, yet, it withers by our desertion
In the hysteria of exertion.
In the hysteria of exertion,
We become moribund and bellicose—
Buoyant with undulating derision,
Palliated by a ravelment of woes.
Our muted, quiescent panic twinges,
Cascading over the peace we pretend.
Our intuition tears at its fringes
While we berserk, bicker and condescend.
The lacuna, the bedlam, the terror bursts
Like stampeding, bionic wildebeest.
We receive a chaos that seems rehearsed
Rather than a real entropy released.
As these trappings bellow in the still night,
The grays of thought trail to the blacks and whites.
The grays of thought trail to the blacks and whites
As if they were catfish crawling through dirt.
Sprawling though they are, they are out of sight,
Pressuring the mud to remain inert.
They prevent an untold calamity
By refusing to sift their skin forward,
Relaxing where there is conformity—
Though fear makes them thrash about and wayward.
Their quaking tremors of brash distemper
May break us from our rachitic foothold,
Hushing our antinomian whimpers,
Showing us that control is uncontrolled.
We tremble, not knowing we are their might,
Forming unincorporated insights.
Forming unincorporated insights
Makes us define ourselves by dramatics,
Inundating our mind's durable lights
For the tenebrae of post-pragmatics.
Our shadows shape like parabolas
Over the structures of our ignorance.
We provide each other a blank atlas
That maps the pathways of disappearance,
Landscapes of the nervus probandi—
Whatever we have lixiviated.
We compose in dissonant glissandi,
So all notes can be asphyxiated.
The whole time we ask: What is redeeming?
What context contributes toward meaning?
What context contributes toward meaning?
What emergent grammar elucidates
The language that has been intervening
With our illocutionary mandates?
For what reason do we speak un-freely,
Cauterized by divergent opinions?
Are we blinded by irrelevancy—
In the realm of persuasive dominion?
Fallacies that we believe in argue
By the Holy right of their assertions,
Disseminating what is maybe true
In the hysteria of exertion.
The grays of thought trail to the blacks and whites,
Forming unincorporated insights.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unincorporated Insights VIII
In the realm of persuasive dominion,
We are grinding in mechanized fittings,
Smashing in the roll of pressing pinions,
Watching as our heads— crushing and splitting—
Massage into a rouge polish for gears.
Our thoughts slowly gloss over orange rust—
Now crusting with our suppurated smears—
As the accruements shift and readjust.
Why do we pancake our skin and our bones,
Flattening our pursuits and our passions?
Why melt each other to produce clones
Portioned to consume commodity rations?
As we instill and install these values,
Fallacies that we believe in argue.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Toxins
Release them to relieve with an enema.
You can,
Release them to relieve with an enema.
Feel free...
Light,
And...
Cleansed as you can be.
Toxins,
Create...
Diseases.
Release them to relieve with an enema.
You can,
Release them to relieve with an enema.
Toxins,
Create...
Diseases.
You can,
Feel free...
Light and cleansed as you can be.
Release them to relieve with an enema.
Toxins.
Release them to relieve with an enema.
Toxins.
Release them to relieve with an enema.
Toxins.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Blacken the Sun
I blacken the sun, with all the evil I possess,
Belittling those around me, as a way to relieve my stress,
I blacken the sun, with every word that escapes my lips,
As they pierce into your soul, and slowly tear you into bits,
I dare anybody to step up to me, oh what horrible things that can be done,
I have the power to defeat anybody, because I'm what blackens the sun,
I can cut through you with my eyes, and shred you to pieces with my words,
I'm the baddest thing alive, or haven't you already heard?
That I blacken the sun, with all the forces of hell,
Inflicting pain on others, because evil always prevail,
Your hurt is a cure to my wounds, a remedy to my pain,
It gives me the ability to go on, the strength to sustain,
The power to be undefeated, defeated by none,
Because I'm what blackens that sun,
poem by Niakeva Thomas
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Amnesty
(doumas)
Love is the sweetest amnesty
Floats like a cloud between the sky and sea
Ill give it to you
Could you please give it to me
Love is the sweetest amnesty
Given by the powers
Then let us be
Ill give it to you
Could you please give it to me
cause I need you
We can talk
We can see
If we disagree we do it honestly
Let our lovin be
The sweetest amnesty
Between you and me
Theres bound to be
Some conscientious objection
Our spirits dressed in mystery
Speak solely through affection
Repeat
Verse 1
Cos I need you (need you)
Chorus
Let our lovin be
The sweetest amnesty
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blinded By Design
Blinded by design.
A condition so effective...
Whatever comes next for them,
Few will accept.
And most will reject.
Especially those opposed to facing truths.
Since the feasting of historic concepts...
Have only been fed to them,
With the only best...
Of tasty deceptions.
Blinded by design,
And the majority are fine about it!
Or were...
Until just recently.
A disturbance regarding their finances,
Has cause their eyes to open wide!
Leaving many traumaticized in disbelief.
And even though the sky is falling...
To scurry many chickens home to roost.
An elected goose promising golden eggs would be laid...
Has been discovered to be the leader,
Of a tremendous duping done...
With a horrifying scooping of their finds to boot!
Blinded by design,
For a very long time.
And slowly is this reality being revealed...
Since the bottom of their butts will soon be busted.
Not only to abandon those trusting disgusted!
But hundreds of thousands,
Seen going literally out of their minds!
And a sceaming done by those who find...
No missionary charities soliciting to depict,
Their disadvantaged sufferings...
On local tv to gain sympathy from those rich.
Since the voices heard are theirs...
At a dispassionate fervor bursting,
Terrifying pitch!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Ears, One Tongue
Two exclusive ears to increase your karma knowledge;
One twisted tongue to lash out at personable proponents
Of thinking outside the black box
Who, with no good reason, you label obnoxious opponents
Although they work hard, day and night,
To bring you wealthy wisdom's crucial components.
Two eminent ears to stress the need to listen
More than you wag your terrible tongue
Which, though small, can loosen links
With marvelous mentors and associates stung
By the rush of bad blood to your hasty head
And intuitive impulses fit only for the young.
Two eyes to see the vast expanse of excellent erudition
On which God gave you double dominion
To forge ahead by controlling your tempting tongue
And graduate from the rank of midget minion
Into a person of substance and savvy
Although, you'd argue, it's only a matter of oblique opinion.
poem by John Sensele
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Expensive Candy!
Years a subject of deprivation's
vocation - talent to deny -
shall I speak of distant design
beyond this adamant 'NOW, ' where,
consummately fixed in precision of
designation, I long for candy
canes to walk sweeter the way?
Speak your convolution - willful
design - and prevail beyond the witness
of truth...? I hear the subtle inference
in the 'I' testimony, and, conversely,
reality speaks to my tempered ear -
the proclamation: 'you are here, you are here...
and so are all, the candy store opens
at five-billion o'clock.' Some candy, that's...
some candy!
Out of my book of 'Inciting Reasons for Hate8' which is
not yet written, and, I'm sure...never will...willful publishers
annoy! ! !
poem by Dog goD 8Hate
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Fearing These Days
You only see me when I laugh
Never hear me when I cry
Im tired of fearing these days
Im sitting here on my own
Talking to myself alone
And Im tired of fearing these days
All I need was an explanation
Why you treat me so mean
You always play the part with no hesitation
Thats the other side Ive seen
Please dont fail me
Dont fail me
Please dont let me fall
If all my nightmares come today
Will you hide them far away
Cause Im tired of fearing these days
Itll wash away the past and pain
Let me start from new again
Im tried of fearing these days
You always hit me when there is no reason
To feel superior to me
When all I want is a confrontation
So I can find a release
Please dont fail me
Dont fail me
Please dont let me fall
song performed by by Texas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ch 08 On Rules For Conduct In Life - Maxim 40
A design without strength to execute it is fraud and deception and application of strength without a design is ignorance and lunacy.
Discernment is necessary. Arrangement and intellect, then a realm;
For realm and wealth with an ignorant man are weapons against himself.
Amnesty Is Granted
Loves an hourglass.
It goes out wide then it comes in closer.
It drifts away leaving empty shattered moments.
Who said that love could last forever.
Im growin tired of feelin like I do.
As we drift apart.
Little secerts come between us.
As we sail away.
Feelin comfort in the distance.
You said that love would last forever.
Neither one of us will ever surrender.
Theres a time.
Theres a place.
A change of heart.
About face.
This is about love.
Its about forgiveness.
Tell me now -
Tell me like it is.
You dont have to give -
Amnesty is granted.
Whats done is done for everyone.
Come on baby let start again right now.
Amnesty, amnesty, amnesty is granted.
Yeah, I think a lot.
Yeah I been thinkin a lot.
I been thinkin about you baby.
Lord knows Ive been thinkin about you.
Ive been thinkin that love would last forever.
Neither one of us will ever surrender.
Theres a time.
Theres a place.
A change of heart.
About face.
This is about love.
Its about forgiveness.
Tell me now -
Tell me like it is.
You dont have to give -
Amnesty is granted.
Well done is done for everyone.
Come on baby let start again right now.
Amnesty, amnesty, amnesty is granted.
Neither one of us will ever surrender.
Theres a time.
Theres a place.
A change of heart.
About face.
This is about love.
Its about forgiveness.
Tell me now -
Tell me like it is.
You dont have to give -
Amnesty is granted.
Well done is done for everyone.
Come on baby let start again right now.
Amnesty, amnesty, amnesty is granted.
Whats done is done for everyone.
Come on baby let start again right now.
Amnesty, amnesty, amnesty is granted.
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the Letting Go
In the letting go,
A freedom unknown
Becomes as welcomed
As fresh falling snow...
On Pine trees green.
In the letting go,
A release becomes sacred
To experience,
As an unpolluted breeze...
To breathe a feeding done easily.
In the letting go,
One knows a life has arrived to be explored.
In the letting go...
An unexpected flow,
Connects.
To all.
And all that is there to be shared,
Comes.
To the one letting go to let life be as it is,
To live as wished!
Without restricted limits inflicted.
In the letting go,
So much that isn't within reach...
Instantly becomes available to touch.
In the letting go,
There is such a thing called living.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Is Because Of The Media
'The media is the reason for our problems.
The media is the reason for our dysfunctions.
The media is the reason why there is conflict.
The media is the reason our kids are the way they are.
The media is the reason for racism and division.
The media is the reason why the economy is perceived,
To be knocking on death's door.
And it is because of the media our great country,
Has fallen into dire straits and has less educated citizens! '
That's a wrap, Sarah.
Very well done.
Now we do have you scheduled for that magazine shoot.
With you standing on the pier in common street clothes.
Very representative of the people.
As well as very clever.
Now...
Should we re-schedule the talk show for next week?
Or...
Should we keep it and move your appearance for the fund-raiser?
Since your announcement...
We have been overflooded with requests.
'What are the ratings for the talk show?
I want to know their demographics.
Also...
Do not schedule any of my activities around the playoffs.
Last year PBS refused to carry my message!
And it is important that my followers know how the media is used,
To manipulate their thinking process.
And that is the reason my campaign is important.
These are issues that must be prioritized...
And addressed!
IF we are going to move forward as a nation!
And get out of this mess!
Here are my questions to be asked,
By those selected reporters.
I need to freshen up before the press conference begins.
Make sure all cameras are placed behind,
Those who flew in from Hollywood.
They are filming a documentary...
To be used to solicit potential donors.
And I need as much as I can get,
To offset my travel expenses.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some Premeditate What They Say
When I speak,
I am not team motivated.
Nor am I representing a cause,
From a membership of devoted worship.
When I speak,
Sometimes I do admit...
My head is quick to release words,
My heart has not had an opportunity to examine...
Before my lips respond.
But when I do speak,
I have to deliver my words with honesty.
Some premeditate what they say.
As if to have had rehearsed their reactions as well.
I do this.
And I know I am not alone.
I have to control my temper,
The best way I can.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nine Voices
Anderson/squire/howe/white/sherwood/khoroshev
On a beach
North africa
Nine tribesmen stand alone
Waiting for a distant call
Waiting for the world to answer
Thru' the night of a thousand stars
Encircled by the light
They began to sing a new song
Of forces that surround us
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
When the sun came up they sang
As the perfect calendar says
Each had the power of people
Speaking new languages
They gave forgiveness meaning
New ways of letting go
Each child is born for greatness
With forces that surround them
This voice
This dialogue
This voice
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
His voices
This dialogue
This voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nine Voices
Anderson/squire/howe/white/sherwood/khoroshev
On a beach
North africa
Nine tribesmen stand alone
Waiting for a distant call
Waiting for the world to answer
Thru' the night of a thousand stars
Encircled by the light
They began to sing a new song
Of forces that surround us
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
When the sun came up they sang
As the perfect calendar says
Each had the power of people
Speaking new languages
They gave forgiveness meaning
New ways of letting go
Each child is born for greatness
With forces that surround them
This voice
This dialogue
This voice
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
His voices
This dialogue
This voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sous Rature
{Horro_r/is/t_he/ absolut/l_imit/of
Our/an_iM[al]istic/psychologies
Just/as/ser_ia l-ist-ic/disson_ance/ is
The/furth_est/ bounda-ry/of_/harmon_y}
{We/pac-kage/ou_r/ _imp[ulse(s) ]/an_d/abjur_e
T_hs/prt./_of/_o_ur/ being/? Ho-w/can/we
Re-cant/wutwe/d_unt/un-der.stand/? _How/can/we
Be./Tht/_image/ [a sous rature]/_happily? }
poem by Tim Stensloff
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I Watch The Sun Setting On Top Of Dark Trees
i watch the sun set on top of dark trees
light fading
surrendering to complete darkness
i look at it with sadness
i imagine it is like my life
fading light
completely surrendering
letting the darkness in
everything vanishing
slowly gracefully
indeed, it is so sad
and so beautiful
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These Are The Times
I hear voices from beyond the veil
They reverberate in mystery
There are shadows in my heart
And they multiply in memory
And the comrades that I've lost out there
In the scattered ruins still speak to me
If the flickering light of your campfire dims
The world grows smaller
It's closing in
I'm standing here
And I want you to live
I know
These are the times we find out who we really are
This will be when a true friend stands at your side
Someone like me who wants to
Believe in the days of high times and innocence
Drawing the lines and shouting back to the night
Someone like me who wants you to live
And from those who've seen the light beyond
We know the end will bring tranquility
But the voices of the friends they heard
Brought them back to this reality
Tough the beacon of light in your life seems dim
The sun's coming up on the world we're in
There are choices here
And I want you to live
I know
These are the times we find out who we really are
This will be when a true friend stands at your side
One more like me
Who wants to believe in the truth of all we experienced
To live again to jump back into the fight
Someone like me who wants you to live
Pouring light from the sky
Portends you and I
Disappears in the night
I still remember
I hear voices from beyond the veil
Like a faint unfinished symphony
Though the beacon of light in your life seems dim
The sun's coming up on the world we're in
I'm standing here
And I want you to live
I know
These are the times we find out who we really are
This will be when a true friend stands at
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To provide meaningful architecture is not to parody history but to articulate it.
quote by Daniel Libeskind
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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