The Beckoning Poetry Post Page

Poetry by Anonymous

Added 19 September 2001, Revised 1 October 2006

This is a section where I post poems sent to me by people who have found my site and wish to display their own works. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do!

This poem is by Anonymous


fundamentally dead
forgotten and discussed nature's influence on image takes over this poem is not beautiful
not musical or thoughtful this poem, rather writing,
is for instant digestion. Don't read it in search of meaning
don't read it as if you were hip to the randomness of modern art Read it as if you were a mystic...
Indulge the split of your personality
Read it with no holds barred
Believe you are the psychic you think you are
Believe you are the psychologist you think you are
Believe you are the servant of God you sometimes hope you are.
Believe you are the connector, the lover that exhudes connection.
Believe you are the savior, the one that answers too divine voices
Heal sinners
Eliminate doubters
Believe in the pick 6
Imagine you are drinking coffee on your way to work
Eat shit
Fuck you
Live...ever after I am writing to you with a belly full of beer
I have life on my back and love in my heart
I have never loved as I love now
I have never felt our communion with nature...until now
This world...this instance...
We are a garden
We are violent produce
We pass through
We indulge
We are doomed
We are blessed
We are willing to believe I want to take part in the process
I want to be part of the tragedy
I want to drown the angst with beauty...
Like a... Be aware of the cold vastness
The crafted lies
The grand comfort
The forces at play Jesus was a man
Let him be

As the sunrise
As the rain
As the means of our ends
As the life we are given
As the death we perfect
All the songs we sing
All the lies we digest
All the love we compromise
And sing to forget
We are doomed
We are blessed
We are willing to believe
We are waiting for something
Or someone...
Is it right
Is it valid
Is it ok to proceed
I am lost
I am wondering

Art is dead.

There is no more power to it.

Look at anarchy...
Looks a bit like art.