|Anti-war poetry is kinda my thing, I guess. This is one of my best poems, I think.|
QuestionsWhat is the nature of reality?Questions by A-Wandering-Man
What is the reality of nature?
What excites me? Interests me? Enrages me?
Enchants me? I still have so much to learn
about myself - and it's terrifying.
But it also intrigues and excites me
Beyond the scope of any reasonable expectation.
I could do - and be - so much...
Or I could do little to nothing significant.
In the vast expanse of my potential,
I am afraid to venture out into myself.
So I hide in anxiety and anger and laughter
Maybe it's time I set sail.
The Parade of the SoullessAgonized faces, twisted into morbid smilesThe Parade of the Soulless by A-Wandering-Man
Bodies dragged along behind; unwilling,
Yet spurred on by frivolous anxiety.
The mask cracks and fractures; begins to fail.
The light slips through, and burns the skin;
The Persona withers and inner tensions mount
And it implodes.
Revealed is a face scarred by tears
And unwrinkled by laughter.
A face so real and terrifying, and gruesome,
That we demand it never be seen.
And so it dies. And so do we.
We are wandering husks,
Devoid of feeling;
And paraded about,
As if our warm corpses
Still possessed any semblance of life.
A Sense of Time StillFracture a momentA Sense of Time Still by A-Wandering-Man
Spread out the pieces
Examine its insides
Let it all crash together.
Push the first domino
Flip the coin into the air
Set the metronome's pace
Wind up the pocket watch.
A miniscule momentum
A flicker of a force
An inkling of an impulse
And time orchestrates its grand symphony,
And it will, unnoticed,
Proceed and multiply, grow
And end and start again,
Until time stops
In a moment of quiet.
Poetry of the ProcessI ponder for a moment:Poetry of the Process by A-Wandering-Man
What has inspired me this time?
Something rather mundane? Not surprising.
My mind, a lens; refracting reality
Into some profound and abstract metaphor
If it's a poem I'm writing – and it often is –
It becomes rather exciting,
As I spit out a few nice lines
But then I'll spend an eternity looking for perfect rhymes.
(I'm a bit of a perfectionist, you see.)
If it happens to be a bit of prose
– Which is rare, as any frequent reader knows –
It's more than likely rather morbid,
Or funny, or conceited and self-absorbed.
Non-phonetic rhyming (like the rhyme above) – that is,
Words that look like they might rhyme, but don't
(When spoken aloud) – is among my favourite
Techniques to use; and when I write one, I savour it.
But getting back to prose, for a moment –
Often, I'll write a wonderful piece
And, out of nowhere, there comes a sentence
That I don't like at all.
And it ruins everything! All that hard work,
|Check out my gallery...some of my favourite poems aren't my newest!|
I'm a writer, not an artist! And a pretty damn good one at that. |
I'm looking to be a scientist by the time I finish university (read: PhD). I'm a student of philosophy, though I'm not enrolled in any philosophy classes. I'm a decent writer by any standard and an arrogant one by most. I'm politically active as an anarcho-communist and I try to address social issues with my writing, particularly my poems, but I also convey personal emotions in them, as well as my spiritual beliefs (I am a Naturalistic Pantheist and atheist; by spiritual I do not mean supernatural, to be clear.)
If you enjoy my writing, you're probably crazy; but then again, life is boring if you aren't. Normalcy's nothing to be proud of, in my opinion. I suppose I'm a fairly introverted person, though my friends know me to be loud and to laugh readily. Meeting strangers, particularly cute girls or respectable adults, is where my shyness reveals itself. I think too much, feel too much, and eat too much, and I don't think any of those things will ever change. I've been told on occasion that I am wise beyond my years and clever beyond reckoning, but despite my arrogance I have never really convinced myself of these supposed facts.
I love nature, especially forests and rivers; and I absolutely love pictures of nebulae and galaxies and the like from various observatories and the Hubble Space Telescope. I'd very much like to get a telescope of my own. I love standing outside, looking at the stars. Meteor showers are my favourite things to watch but I've only ever seen two. I love the complexity of life, and the greater universe. It's all so amazing.
I appreciate music greatly, though mostly metal and classical (and sometimes both combined); and I would have loved to have been gifted with musical ability, but I'm useless at playing music. I have an 11-key range on a piano, which is ridiculous, (I have big hands, ok?) but I'm useless with one. I love any music with cello, violin, or viola in it, and I wish I could play any of them, but alas -- no talent. I suppose I must make up for it in my writing. Some of my favourite bands are (in no particular order) Nightwish, Epica, Freedom Call, Gamma Ray, Dream Theater, System of a Down, Blind Guardian, and ReVamp, among others. I love Chopin's (classical) work as well.
I'm mercilessly rational, which accounts for the aforementioned wisdom, I suppose. I often find myself struggling to accept the paradigms of society, as most of them are irrational. And I really, really like pizza. And pasta. And pretty well anything else with cheese. Not relevant, really, but needed to be said.
I love living, but it terrifies me. Odd, that. Suppose that's how it's supposed to be.
My best friend in the world is MissSoarrow , so be nice to her!
As you may read below I'm a very quotable person.
"Perhaps, I think, the important thing is not only that we look to the stars in reverence, but that occasionally we tear our eyes from the great void for a moment to look over at our fellow humans, give them a smile, and encourage them to gaze at the wonders of the cosmos along with us."
"Those who think the air empty have never breathed the breath of life, they have never stood in the gale and released their pain and worries to the calming wind; never let themselves go, free in the swirling eddies of the ever-moving air. There is life in the air, in all the world, every day, in everyone and everywhere."
― Me (yet again)
“Judge a man by his questions rather than by his answers.”
"Come, come, whoever you are; wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving; Ours is no caravan of despair; come, yet again, come"
― Rumi, Sufi poet