Most read ▸
Simulacra
o my woolly eye
and woolly ear
if we were as wise as we are now
we might have become real
Poems on the topic: reality
Poems on the topic “reality” on Poets.by.
Garden Party
Our hosts had buried TVs all over the yard
& plugged them in. Screens hissed
their snow from the grass
as we drank draft beer from plastic cups.
They were like oracles, chthonic & obscure.
A young woman who appeared to be tripping
stopped short, stared & began to weep.
It’s not fighting, I said, trying to console.
It’s dancing.
It’s cosmic background radiation
& thermal noise, she said without looking up.
Reality is beautiful, you know?
I crouched down for a closer look.
It was 1990. The news was full
of the end of the Cold War
& the Gulf War was still weeks away.
Sleeping
Eyes closed,
Mind filled of the beauty of your dreams
You hope it real
You hope it never end
But sooner or later you'll
Open your eyes to a world of torturous people
A Dream Inside A Dream
Strangely familiar,
Yet uncertain,
I’ve been here before,
Or so it seems,
Surreal in setting,
In feeling,
In this real?
Or am I dreaming?
Time appears frozen,
Stuck in the present,
All around me is still,
The past and future non-existent,
Impressionistic from a distance,
Realistic up close,
Rubbing my eyes,
To see more clearly,
The Shadow
One foot in front of the other,
Speed continually increasing,
Reluctant to look back,
Indifferent to pushing and shoving,
With no definite destination,
You continue to run,
No care about fatigue,
No worry of dehydration,
Not knowing when to stop,
If the end is near,
Not knowing if you should go back,
To conquer that fear,
Others watch and shake their heads,
Having been there before,
Until they learned there was no finish,
It did them no good,
When All Is Said And Done, Do You Do More?
A taste is emphasized in the past, and cannibals are emphasized in the future. We begin to segment our social explorations, like construction workers with boots that cramp their ankles. All visible defenses keep bumming off the invisible offense of Reality itself, while commerce grows dynamic near a spillway. Two-thirds of any action is composed of a prior action, like those cotton plugs in the necks of aspirin bottles. Levitation is the Central Rose.
Patty-Cake
you are real
but this world is made up
this world is real
but you are made up
you are made up
of opposing forces
united
like a symphony orchestra
being orchestrated
by the band leader
except the band leader doesn’t really exist
only the band is real
Units: An Introduction
Everything is made
of little units, which
are made of even smaller
units. The smallest units,
undetectable by us, are
reality. All units larger
than these are rearrangement,
illusion, phony structure.
They constitute a kind
of molecular cinema
watched by us and
understood by God,
who is exempt from
the unit-arrangement.
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
Or try: