Unincorporated Insights XIII
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.
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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Prejudiced? Who? Me? ? .....[Personal; Human Nature; Racial Prejudice]
I'm a white guy, aged 64, raised in a small town way up north.
Do some thoughts I have about blacks signal prejudice coming forth?
First I'd say NO, but then again I'd say YES.
But such thoughts, by both whites and blacks, are normal I would guess.
What thoughts am I now referring to you will probably ask.
To answer that sensible question will put my mind to task.
My interactions with blacks, I think, no prejudice does reveal.
And the rare times I have 'prejudice' thoughts, I think they're no big deal.
Do you wish to know of what my 'pre-judged' thoughts consist?
I'd almost rather not tell you. But, if you insist.
I sometimes think 'nigger'; when and where I grew up that was a 'bad' name.
I also think of them as different though people are the 'same'.
And here is where I say 'I don't like generalization'.
By 'same' I mean neither all blacks nor all whites are 'the same' in this nation.
So whites and blacks can both be smart or stupid, mean or kind;
within each 'race' criminals and 'saints' you'll find.
I wasn't raised to either love or hate blacks. My parents seemed not to judge.
And I've changed my mind again; I'm NOT prejudiced. From that opinion I shall not budge!
Then why you ask do I sometimes think 'nigger' when I think of a black?
I think it's due to both a primeval urge to break society's rules, and to thought-control I lack.
Luckily I don't act out my 'bad' thoughts. I might be in jail now if I had.
When in grade school, a boy said I called him 'nigger'. The accusation made me sad.
poem by Bri Edwards
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Unincorporated Insights XII
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.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Vegetable
Does a veg'table suffer in the dirt,
Or tremble timorously while inert?
Do its leaves soak sunlight with vicious pains?
Does breathing life
Make for burdens so rife
Amongst scabrous terrains?
Does a plant still remain firmly rooted
Knowing its soil is thoroughly polluted?
Do its flowers unfold purposelessly?
Does it condemn
The water in its stem
While screaming soundlessly?
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Fear Nothing But One
Fear Love for it will kill you both in such thrill
Makes you suffer when you're happy
Makes you perish when you're ill
Fear it for it makes you decide in such a deadly way
Makes you choose if you are for your happiness
Makes you decide to work or play
Fear Dark for it will blind you and always let you fall
Makes you fall without such judgment
Makes you cry in no such call
Fear it for it makes you clueless and not updated and aware
Makes you tremble without knowing
Makes you hardly even care
Fear Needles for it will bleed you and strike you in the eye
Makes you suffer bleeding hard
Makes you simply knowing you're alive
Fear it for it will simply have a permanent scar on your face
Makes you feel be wasted
Makes you wanted it to erase
Fear everything else but nothing beats them all but him
God sets the beginning of everything
God sets the end of everything
Fear him for he can do anything even impossible in the eye
God will make you face your fear
God will make you sigh
poem by Princess Bernadette Anillo
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Racial Conflict
I, Yellow.
No different
Than others.
Whites on Whites...
Blacks on Blacks...
Browns on Browns...
Racism.
How will it be
When the tie
Binds
Diverging colors?
Catfish Girl
Catfish girl, makes it feel so fine
Catfish girl, always pulling on my line
When I see her smiling face, She get me every single time
Yeah she does.
Catfish girl, I miss you Lord I feel so blue
Oh my Catfish girl, Oh and every little thing that you do
Oh Catfish girl, I only want to be with you.
Oh Catfish come on now...
Aint' that the prettiest thing you ever did see.........
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bindle Stiff
When I was brash and gallant-gay
Just fifty years ago,
I hit the ties and beat my way
From Maine to Mexico;
For though to Glasgow gutter bred
A hobo heart had I,
And followed where adventure led,
Beneath a brazen sky.
And as I tramped the railway track
I owned a single shirt;
Like canny Scot I bought it black
So's not to show the dirt;
A handkerchief held all my gear,
My razor and my comb;
I was a freckless lad, I fear,
With all the world for home.
Yet oh I thought the life was grand
And loved my liberty!
Romance was my bed-fellow and
The stars my company.
And I would think, each diamond dawn,
"How I have forged my fate!
Where are the Gorbals and the Tron,
And where the Gallowgate?"
Oh daft was I to wander wild,
And seek the Trouble Trail,
As weakly as a wayward child,
And darkly doomed to fail . . .
Aye, bindle-stiff I hit the track
Just fifty years ago . . .
Yet now . . . I drive my Cadillac
From Maine to Mexico.
poem by Robert William Service
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What is fear?
Fear is stormy weather
Fear is light as a feather
Fear is rain
Fear is pain
Fear is hiding in the dark
Fear is lingering at the park
Fear is not your friend
Fear is hard to comprehend
Fear is not knowing what to do
Fear is what ever he wants to
Fear is turning out the lights
Fear is having no sight
Fear is going to give you a thrill
Fear is also going to make you kill
Fear is never fun
Fear is going to make you run
Fear is that scary little voice
Fear is going to give you no other choice
Fear is losing someone
Fear is like a loaded gun
Fear is something you can't control
Fear is something you can't unfold
Fear is the opposite of love
Fear is what we're made of
Fear is not going to please
Fear is always me...
poem by Mrunal Nandankar
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Fear is...
Fear is stormy weather
Fear is light as a feather
Fear is rain
Fear is pain
Fear is hiding in the dark
Fear is lingering at the park
Fear is not your friend
Fear is hard to comprehend
Fear is not knowing what to do
Fear is what ever he wants to
Fear is turning out the lights
Fear is having no sight
Fear is going to give you a thrill
Fear is also going to make you kill
Fear is never fun
Fear is going to make you run
Fear is that scary little voice
Fear is going to give you no other choice
Fear is losing someone
Fear is like a loaded gun
Fear is something you can't control
Fear is something you can't unfold
Fear is the opposite of love
Fear is what we're made of
Fear is not going to plea
Fear is always me...
poem by Nolan Holland
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Soulja'z Story
[Tupac Talking]
They cuttin off welfare
Think they crime is risin' now
You got whites killin blacks
Cops killin blacks
And blacks killin blacks
Shit just gonna get worse
They just gonna become souljas
Straight souljas
Chorus
All you wanted ta be
song performed by by Tupac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Catfish
(bob dylan, jacques levy)
Lazy stadium night,
Catfish on the mound.
strike three, the umpire said,
Batter have to go back and sit down.
Catfish, million dollar man.
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Used to work on mr. finleys farm
But the old man would not pay.
So he packed his glove and took his arm
And one day he just ran away.
Catfish, million dollar man.
Nobody can throw that ball like catfish can.
Way up where the yankees are
Smoke a custom made cigar.
Catfish, million dollar man.
Nobody can throw that ball like catfish can.
Reggie jackson at the plate
Seeing nothing but the curve.
Swing too early or too late,
Got to eat what catfish serve.
Catfish, million dollar man.
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Krwlng (Mike Shinoda Feat. Aaron Lewis)
Crawling in my skin
Without a sense of confidence
Consuming, confusing
Crawling in my skin
Without a sense of confidence I'm convinced that there's just too much prssure too take
There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
[Aaron]
Crawling in my skin
These wounds, they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
[Chester]
There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self control I fear is never ending
Controlling
I can't seem
To find myself again
My walls are closing in
(Without a sense of confidence Im convinced that theres just too much pressure to take)
I've felt this way before
So insecure
[Aaron and Chester]
Crawling In my skin
These wounds, they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
Discomfort, endlessly has pulled itself upon me
Distracting, reacting
Against my will I stand beside my own reflectionIt's haunting how I can't seem...
To find myself again
My walls are closing in
(Without a sense of confidence Im convinced that theres just too much pressure to take)
I've felt this way before
So insecure
Without a sense of confidence i'm convinced that theres just too much pressure to take (2x)
Cant seem to find myself again my walls are closing in..
Without a sense of confidence I'm convinced that theres just too much pressure to take
Ive felt this way before so insecure..
[Aaron and Chester]
Crawling In my skin
These wounds, they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real (2x
song performed by by Linkin Park
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Catfish
Lazy stadium night
Catfish on the mound.
Strike three, the umpire said,
Batter have to go back and sit down.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Used to work on mr. finleys farm
But the old man wouldnt pay
So he packed his glove and took his arm
An one day he just ran away.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Come up where the yankees are,
Dress up in a pinstripe suit,
Smoke a custom-made cigar,
Wear an alligator boot.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Carolina born and bred,
Love to hunt the little quail.
Got a hundred-acre spread,
Got some huntin dogs for sale.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Reggie jackson at the plate
Seein nothin but the curve,
Swing too early or too late
Got to eat what catfish serve.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
Even billy martin grins
When the fish is in the game.
Every season twenty wins
Gonna make the hall of fame.
Catfish, million-dollar-man,
Nobody can throw the ball like catfish can.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grew To Believe
I did not awaken with dreams to write.
Or decide I was creative.
I awakened each day trying to fight it,
This appetite I had.
Especially when I thought that I had,
Something I should not want to have.
Few people I knew were encouraged to express,
An acceptance of their gifts.
I grew up in the projects.
And those who were 'different' were made to feel it.
Few people I knew were encouraged to express,
A happiness with talents they possessed.
With a gladness from others...
Who did not address an envy with a jealousness.
But a showing of a knowing that I knew,
Grew...
Inside of me.
Yes,
A showing of a knowing that I knew...
Grew!
A showing of a knowing that I knew,
Grew...
Inside of me.
Yes,
A showing of a knowing that I knew...
Grew,
To believe.
I did not awaken with dreams to write.
Or decide I was creative.
I awakened each day trying to fight it,
This appetite I had.
But...
A showing of a knowing that I knew,
Grew...
Inside of me.
Yes,
A showing of a knowing that I knew...
Grew,
To believe.
A showing of a knowing that I knew,
Grew...
Inside of me.
A showing of a knowing that I knew...
Grew,
To believe.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I am a man of black and white
I am a man of black and white,
my name is written on the gates of the sky.
i am a man of black and white
my origin is united, yet two apart.
I speak the language of the whites,
but lost in the language of the blacks.
i am a man of black and white,
my resemblance is same with the blacks.
I am a man of black and white,
i was brought up in the land of the whites.
i am a man of black and white,
my home is in the south-east, in the abode of my black dad.
I am a man of black and white,
i love the aspirations of life.
i am a man of black and white,
although two apart, we are united as one.
poem by Randy Micheal
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Dirt Bike
Here comes the dirt bike
Beware of the dirt bike
Because I hear theyre coming to our town
Theyve got plans for everyone
And now I hear theyre over their sophomore jinx, so you had better check it out
All hail the dirt bike
Philosopher dirt bike
Silence as we gathered round
We saw the word and were on our way
Now its
Brain washing dirt bike
Ground shaking dirt bike
Mind bending dirt bike
In control
Soul crushing dirt bike
Self propelled dirt bike
You see I never thought Id understand
til that bike took me by the hand
Now I ride
Ride
Ride
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Deeper
I cant even look at this skin tonight
Knowing that our time here is on a while
Hold me in your arms and breathe me through
Like I know that you can only do
In your horizon, no, nothing truly dies
Never tremble with fear
Youre just married to the sun
And every second only makes it deeper
Flower pushes through the dune (? ) and blooms
It doesnt have the faintest(? ) that it is due
A virginity is making loss an open wound
In your horizon, no, nothing truly dies
Never tremble with fear
Youre just married to the sun
And every second only makes it deeper
Deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper
I was alone in my room
And all I can hear
And all I can hear
Was the sound of my heart beating away
But I will follow you
Deep into the light
Beyond the death of love
Love
In your horizon, no, you will be together
Faith(? ) from this hell
Ill be married to the sun
And every second
Will only make it deeper
Deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper
Deeper, deeper
Deeper, deeper
There is a light
Deeper, light
Its deeper than the difference of light
Deeper, light
There is a light
Deeper, light
Its deeper than (..) light
Deeper, light
And I will follow you
Deeper than the death of love
Deeper than the (..) seen(? ) to the light
Its deeper than this flesh and blood
I will follow you
I will follow you
Deeper
song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have one great fear in my heart, that one day when they (the whites of South Africa) have turned to loving, they will find we (the blacks) are turned to hating.
quote by Alan Stewart Paton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Catfish Friend
If I were to live my life
in catfish forms
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
at the bottom of a pond
and you were to come by
one evening
when the moon was shining
down into my dark home
and stand there at the edge
of my affection
and think, "It's beautiful
here by this pond.I wish
somebody loved me,"
I'd love you and be your catfish
friend and drive such lonely
thoughts from your mind
and suddenly you would be
at peace,
and ask yourself, "I wonder
if there are any catfish
in this pond?It seems like
a perfect place for them."
poem by Richard Brautigan
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