Paradoxes, Poetry and Pandemonium.

[GiggLeGasm]

pair o' ducks..
paradox.

maybe that's a different poetry thread.

this is a good one though, sneb

 

[sneb]

pair o' ducks..
paradox.

maybe that's a different poetry thread.

this is a good one though, sneb

Yikes! I had no idea about the pair of ducks. Haha.
Thanks for stopping by, GiggleLeGasm.

 

[sneb]

Paradox : pair O' ducks

Edit:
I learnt about the paradox of pair O' ducks.
And now it ties in well together. That is a poignant one. and ties in very well which I know about life. How it seems so different from distance and up close something that is altogether different. From what I understand the notion of a pair of ducks, waddling(maybe?) but still from upwards of the water is telling.
This is how I infer from here.

Thanks for sharing that paradox.
Feel to share whatever you come up with in that department.

 

[sneb]

Paradox : happiness does not exist

"Happiness is a myth", He barely whispered, and gravely, " we all look for it, hunt for it, kill for it."
The old man had scars, ages old, set and with such a depth,
I knew he was wise for his age.
"And what does man do when he finds it?", I could not help but ask.
"Well, son, what makes you think we would find happiness?", his clear eyes deceived that parched wrinkled skin, and I could not help but notice his unwavering and slightly heavy voice.
"I do not know, but after all a man goes through to find the joys of life, he must finally achieve the deepest of his heart's desires, no?" I shot back promptly. I felt like a child having to ask why his chocolates have not yet arrived.

The old man fell back in his wooden arm chair, it creaked with his posture settling in, but it was more for the weight of his experiences, rather than anything. He felt lost all of a sudden, his eyes shut for a moment as if deep in thought, I felt the atmosphere get heavy and gloomy.
"My child, happiness is a lie we tell ourselves for our hearts can't keep their treasures to themselves.There is nothing like happiness to be attained. It is not a state, it is the notion of presence. There is nothing beyond the horizon, no future-gandeur. The only joy one can have is being in the present. Men are dogs for whom cars speeding down a road are the illusion of happiness, they growl at it, run, scratch, and jump on their metal shining. But that is it. The dog feels that catching that car will be it's happy moment, which is not true. Just like that, there is no gift waiting for us down the road, no flowers then. For all its worth it makes you, for what you do to get your promised flowers, but it leaves you no more happier than you are now. Life at present is the maximum elation you can have. it is the only promise to you. The search for happiness is best for the thrill-seekers who want to have adventures. But that is it, a bid to an adventure".
​

 

[sneb]

Poem : my mind

My mind is a barrage of sounds.
The faceless mutiny, pointless-
in all its glory, the ideas are needless excess;
Days pass in such irony, like the quintessential striptease,
when the layers erode, there is nothing to earn.

There is nothing to attain,
the sounds are the all music there is.​

 

[sneb]

Poem : addicted to your eyes

Maybe your eyes taste the same as old age grapes,
everywhere without the vineyard.

The drinking was never a choice,
I have just been addicted
to how you gaze.​

 

[sneb]

Paradox : what are we

We are the sorry tunes of a phantom hope,
the long thread of a broken silhouette,
such as the one that shines into death with fragrant soil,
we are in the sorry times of a brilliant history,
we are the subtle tragedy of a lovelorn Romeo,
we are the future of a promising offspring,
the fateful will of the beautiful story.
​

 

[sneb]

Poem : (impromptu) ...

Paint my waist in your starlight,
plunge into my bathed soul,
wrap me with this night,
place my pressed lips at the edge,
of your star-struck soul.
​

 

[sneb]

Poem : eyes before lips

Darkness lay on her eyes, a virgin mistress,
a cloud of doubt at the succulent breasts;
Heat to the heart, a perilous growth in low red,
one wondered where be sweet-clad lips, as betrothed.
​

 

[sneb]

Paradox : treacherous dream

The dream a treacherous game,
behind my woeful back is played.

The time when I am conscious not,
I find my victories put on the sand.

At the wake what I breathe, and
have to wear all that I never said.
​

 

[sneb]

Poem : a beautiful soul

A beautiful soul can never sing and dance in the shadow of its beliefs.
And,
Happiness is a pretty construct of a lazy mind.
​

 

[sneb]

Poem : when you look at me

When you look at me like that,
I am confused between pain and pleasure,
despair and joy,
happiness and sadness,
ecstasy and depression,
I can't tell between living and dying;
When you gaze into my eyes,
I am no longer alive but am truly lively.
When you look at me like that
I am confused between silence and chaos,
between fear and calm,
I am tranquil but there is a volcano inside,
when you look at me like that,
I am confused between intelligence and stupidity,
emptiness and entirety,
absence and presence.​

 

[BlackCaramelCreme]

What have you scribbled lately?

 

[sneb]

Poem : (latest) ancient passion

What have you scribbled lately?

In response to your query, I wrote this yesterday::::

You are my ancient sigh,
my passion ancestor,
my beloved history,
first laugh of the night.

You are my evening before,
you are my fable
of the previous dance,
my ancient lips' lore.

You are my sculpture,
you are the last failing,
how they move, my hands
you are when it all ends.

You are the last smile,
homeward gone they the men,
you are my lazy relief
when the festival ends.​

 

[BlackCaramelCreme]

Breathing in and exhaling, that was beautiful

 

[sneb]

Breathing in and exhaling, that was beautiful

Thanks a ton, BCC.

 

[Icy1]

"Happiness is a myth", He barely whispered, and gravely, " we all look for it, hunt for it, kill for it."
The old man had scars, ages old, set and with such a depth,
I knew he was wise for his age.
"And what does man do when he finds it?", I could not help but ask.
"Well, son, what makes you think we would find happiness?", his clear eyes deceived that parched wrinkled skin, and I could not help but notice his unwavering and slightly heavy voice.
"I do not know, but after all a man goes through to find the joys of life, he must finally achieve the deepest of his heart's desires, no?" I shot back promptly. I felt like a child having to ask why his chocolates have not yet arrived.

The old man fell back in his wooden arm chair, it creaked with his posture settling in, but it was more for the weight of his experiences, rather than anything. He felt lost all of a sudden, his eyes shut for a moment as if deep in thought, I felt the atmosphere get heavy and gloomy.
"My child, happiness is a lie we tell ourselves for our hearts can't keep their treasures to themselves.There is nothing like happiness to be attained. It is not a state, it is the notion of presence. There is nothing beyond the horizon, no future-gandeur. The only joy one can have is being in the present. Men are dogs for whom cars speeding down a road are the illusion of happiness, they growl at it, run, scratch, and jump on their metal shining. But that is it. The dog feels that catching that car will be it's happy moment, which is not true. Just like that, there is no gift waiting for us down the road, no flowers then. For all its worth it makes you, for what you do to get your promised flowers, but it leaves you no more happier than you are now. Life at present is the maximum elation you can have. it is the only promise to you. The search for happiness is best for the thrill-seekers who want to have adventures. But that is it, a bid to an adventure".
​

Enjoyed reading this.

 

[sneb]

Well thanks!

Enjoyed reading this.

Hey Icy,
Thanks for stopping by my little podium. Happy to add to your perspectives.

Keep visiting.

Cheers!

 

[sneb]

Poem : embrace

Press me to your chest,
love me as they did
in the times of Juliet,
let my breath grow on your skin.

Console my escapes to stay,
hold me, love, this close
that I can blush all day,
how your breasts have known.
​

 

[sneb]

Poem : aurora


You are my little shooting lights
that escaped into the night sky,
like soft dandelions pressed against,
my aurora at midnight,
the stems warm me in my sleep.

 

[sneb]

Poem : flame, love

Now not, my beloved dove, wait for the fireworks,
for my lines lingered too long to miss out on the grooves.
Now now, your lips wove mine like paraffin knots,
the flames would consume if not, your breasts,
for my threads bore into your flesh
like the flame on its whiten legs,
your butter spreads burn low
and close onto what I am being.​

 

[sneb]

Poem : bleed me on your lip

Feed me the cliches of turmoiled love, Love!
Stress by stress, I
discover the treasures of sublime hurt.

Bleed me on your sharpened lip,
drop by drop, into my heart, opened
under cold winter cloud, suffered.

Feed me your thickest of times, Love!
I want to invent new ways of it, to return.

Into my world, behind the times yet,
I stand strong,
stress by stress. Step in with dancing feet,
love! Under the cracking ice shards,
bleed me on your heavy lips.
​

 

[sneb]

Paradox : first time

The hand holding is a terrifying ordeal.
For the weak-kneed, the touch is killing,
straight up from the damp earth
lotuses bloom not until the fiery reveal.

 

[sneb]

Pandemonium : destroyed

Humanity creaks of a tired line,
a broken bedding from a chaotic relationship.
We stand at an edge of a cliff,
the waters are loud beneath
but the sky is blue and hence,
I sense storms around the corner.
As a civilisation, we are to turn around a corner.
Our choices are varied, but choosing is ill,
the methods are tattered and the results are predictable.
We are branching like an age old banyan tree,
but the leaves still grow, everyday,
I feel that the mortality stands shaken
but our insights are replaced by still frames as if to create illusions.
We are soon to touch the peak of a pyramid.
Machines and distances are misunderstood,
there is happiness, but I sense a large empty cave
where we sit or stand by the calcite walls,
our eyes unfocus, and brain begins a shutdown.
The illusions don't need a functioning brain
and hence within our smiles, the eyes are disoriented.
I sense breakage, I feel, a terrible inkling, I sense disjoints.
I sense end. I am bitter-sweet for the end.
But only if I had my mind on the sword
but being high on these illusions,
I am not sure of the reality of it.
Perhaps the only way to save humanity
is for all of this to be a simulation in an old computer. ​

 

[sneb]

Pandemonium : her leaving

Her cloth waves over
a burial in my flesh,
being left, the soft death,
her eyes drowned in my essence.

I slept through the mayhem
without warm palm clasping,
I felt my dreams aroused
like a bubble grasped my being.

Her shadow shattered all I had thought of,
she flashed like the solar eclipse.
In the feisty night, her breath a lot
drenched me in fallen chill.

My teeth touched my bones
as the horrors grew about her leaving,
my skin curled in pain and hurt,
how our worlds crashed, dying.

Now,
I am a sad blotch on the ground,
the ink stain on her front porch,
colors penetrating earth without a sound,
I spent my life dying again and again.

​