Assorted Poems

I'm not necessarily happy with these works, but alas, for future reference I embark to release my intent to review them. There are certain words, rhymes and phrases that I can't get over. Though, I must concede that the tense is sometimes trivial, so that it would be wrong of me to assert that there is one mindset to any stanza or, for that matter, any singly strung line of words. Basically these pieces are mostly ramblings, practices, and such that it should be considered before reading and analyzing.


Time is Killer

A million hours have become what is today.
Even more minutes have compounded and compressed
not only time but space
to create the beauty
that is our existence
in entirety.

We human beings
are insignificant,
so much so that the thought alone
makes me sublime in the scope of it all.
We will never be needed
like our Earth is,
or as great and endless
as the expanse
of space...
Which leaves me to wonder
"What exactly is a purpose
to begin with?"

Anything outside of human context
cannot be understood,
and this makes complete sense considering
that in any and every environment
we act subjectively
to utilize our individual
progressive minds.
To act any different is sheer blaspheme!
and goes against what millions of years
of evolution has prepared us for.

We are tools,
not tool sheds,
and must not forget
to facilitate our future
in terms of the present -
and forget the post-script past experiences
that have left us.
They are lost
and will find us
when we can enjoy
the fruits of their lessons,
unconsciously.


Gore is a Glaive

Gore is the gruesome end to a life,
prolonged only by human intervention.

For, it is a construct
only given form by
human consciousness.

The destruction, demolition,
or complete annihilation of something
is not a good or a bad thing,
but a thing in itself
that occurs objectively
in the chain of existence;
a mere coercion,
by the chain of cause and effect.

It is somewhat apparent
that humans are meaning making machines,
as it is also somewhat apparent
that we as a species care
for more than pure instinctual survival.

Thus I have determined
that all aspects of life and death
have been granted superfluous imagination
on the grounds that the aspects,
as well the in-between,
fall into
a regimented over-documentation
of experience.

We all do it.

We are all prone to this grievance
of unadmitted guilt
that is so safely secured
to our stagnating stories,
in order to please our audience.

What is the result?
Sheer underlying pain,
frustration that reality
isn't good enough.
This is the gore of the world -
the true torture man suffers.


Lovers, Losers and Loners

Slaves with their owners
never had onus
of doing what you want to do,
of standing in a queue
investing time for experience
minutes standing on a fence.

Detesting the in-between
protest make a scene
reckless display of emotions
regardless, of sex-addict lotions

What this means to me:
appreciation of "free."
That lower and lower
than lovers, losers and loners,
we crawl into a pitfall
and not know ourselves at all.