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Open Poetry #30
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The Artist, The Youth, The Philosopher
| Open Poetry #30 |
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The Artist, The Youth, The Philosopher |
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davidmerriman Member
since 2003-04-30
Posts 123Dallas, TX |
sorry for the long read. comments, criticism, or questions would be appreciated! A little boy, green and brown eyes plastered Against the cold of the glass, dew beading And fogging the morning view, to capture The blurring of shapes and colors, fleeting, Flashing endlessly. It's like a river Of existence outside, roaring quietly Into a soft, cool hum half imagined. This train has been rolling across its track For as long as we can remember. It twists and turns and it departs and boards. But the boy is still young, and marveled by The bleeding scenery outside. It flows And never clots into something distinct. He squints and tries to watch for a pattern. Rows of trees whiz by, and a blotch of green Smears across his hazy view, sprayed splattered Like a gush of paint along brown and gray Landscapes. The trees make his small lips bend up. But why did he assume the green were trees? It’s what everyone on the train said. But, Who knows? It could have been paint after all. The train keeps rolling; time passes swiftly. I’ve been thinking, the boy says, about words. Go on, says the man sipping a dark drink Swirling of cream and bellowing with steam. Well, he says, lightly brushing his small fingers Against the plastic plush of the chair-back, Isn’t everything what we make of it? That words are simply thoughts to make order Out of our chaotic, intricate world? Yes, said the man, that is partially true. But how can you explain the simple laws That govern the universe in physics And mathematics? Aren’t these useful truths? So names and thoughts have a use, a purpose. Yes, but obviously this reality Is of our own making. Our eyes see light, And our ears hear the rupture of sound waves. We see the world through time, cause and effect. But if that’s all reality is, bound By our logic, by our perception, then That means the very first effect, the one… That triggered all of creation? Adam And Eve and the Seven Days? Why, that’s God My boy! And Jesus Christ. There’s your answer Right there. But you’re not religious, are you? The man scratched an imaginary itch And the boy, frustrated, resumed speaking. No, listen to me, for just one moment. God, Allah, The Big Bang, why take your pick! All are effects that need some sort of cause, Which, in turn, need an effect. It’s endless And paradoxical. Obviously Our rules for reality only work In our own reality, and there is Obviously more to existence then that. The man slowly shook his coffee. He turned To the window and watched once again The foggy scenery through the window. You, young man, are not yet a physicist Nor a philosopher. You should get out And experience the world before you Make such a wild, ridiculous claim. On the contrary, said the boy, you are making claims In saying that men hold absolute truths. I say we know nothing, and I know nothing. The only thing I know is that I have And you have made our own reality. Your brain gives you a picture of the world, And it can change reality at whim. When you dream, you build a reality, Useless to living but still convincing. The only thing we know is that our view Of reality is not complete. Now, Who is the one who needs to go out and Experience the world? Closing their jaws, They stop talking and shift back into thought. The sky cracks into morning, yellow blue Shimmering, sparkling through the dewed window. The boy sits and sighs, soon to realize, What good can come of words? He sits and sucks In beauty like an anemone, deep In the depths of existence. Whether strings * Or spirits, the ride is still beautiful. Who am I to say what is right or wrong? Who am I to judge another person, Their life, their experience, and their views? But then, why can’t I judge? Why judge my own Judgement? It’s all very confusing and Playing with words grows tiresome. The boy Is still young and has much playing to do. * alluding to String Theory my writings "We talk so abstractly about poetry, because we are all bad poets." - Nietzsche [This message has been edited by davidmerriman (01-05-2004 02:21 PM).] |
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| © Copyright 2004 David Merriman - All Rights Reserved | |||
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A Romantic Heart Member Ascendant
since 1999-09-03
Posts 5496Forever In Your Heart |
You have alot to say...I enjoyed reading your thoughts~ judge ye not, for you will be juged by the same measure~ Do onto others as you would have them do unto you~ ~ARH  Open your eyes, open your mind, open your heart, let me come in and show you love.....~ARH |
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wintertao Member
since 2003-11-17
Posts 366Okaloosa Island, FL |
BRAVO! One of the most interesting poems I've read in awhile and I read a ton...I read this twice and the only line I found weak in the whole piece was "when you dream, you build a reality," for some reason, this just didn't seem to fit to me. I honestly went looking for other's but I like it so much the way it is I can offer no more....but applause. |
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davidmerriman Member
since 2003-04-30
Posts 123Dallas, TX |
thank you for the compliments! "When we dream, we build a reality" I was trying to say that our senses determine our reality; when we dream our senses project the 'dreamworld', and when we are awake, our senses project the 'real world'. But couldn't the 'real world' be a shred of what is truly real, and isn't that the most logical conclusion, given the seemingly impossible nature of our existence? But I agree, I worded that very strangely. "Building a reality" doesn't sound right. I'm going to change it, and thank you! The only other thing I must change is that one line has 11 syllables. thanks again for the comments and more would be appreciated my writings |
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Ravenwolfvoyager Member
since 2003-12-25
Posts 326 |
Keep up the great work David, your work is thought provoking and inspiring. You did a good job. |
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