Poetry: Selections from James Bergman



Reminiscence
 
I may turn my head the opposite way
In its purest, most original form of memory
But its reminiscence is immeasurable.
 
It comes and goes just like seasons do,
But these seasons pass in a mere flux
All at once; never to be caught as one.
 


The Journey

It is as if there is no forward
Nor backwards.
 
Only angst that
Manifests when weakness
Appears in the bleak night.
 
A passive flow
Of feelings and sensations
That cannot be rejected
Nor necessarily expected.
 
The chest reaps
Sorrowful feelings
For its structure
Rejects all rapture.
 
What may save us
Of this disposition?
 
The beat of our heart
May encourage answers
But only for so long
For it inevitably rots
With answers unfound.
 
Amid this gush
Of existential insecurity
Follows an endless relativity
Of all thoughts and actions
That must somehow be justified
Not to the world,
(Be not so quick)
No, but to ourselves.
 
Is this personal consolation
Enough, however?
It must be.
It must be, like waves must
crash and birds must chirp.
 


The Existential Examination
 
From high to high,
Low to low,
The rush lasts for an endless moment
Slipping from our withered grasp.
 
The scar is easier to diagnose than the corrupted soul.
 
It is the invincible wall of despair
That defeats and rots the joy.
 
A cure is not in sight
For that which is observed
Is rarely ever truly seen.
 
It is this ruling thought,
Unrelenting dictating vermin
That controls our movements
And shadows as we pass
Through the dark and the light
Our cognitive disposition
Becomes poisoned.
 
An addiction, even a culture,
Becomes of pain.
 


Write

We write because we have to
For our mind
To not implode.
Please, not another episode.
 
Like water channelling through a stream,
Like wind passing through the trees,
Writing should resemble this.
Let yourself be taken in by the abyss.
 
Explosive thoughts without exposure,
Lost in time, sucked in by infinity.
 
A human crime, a betrayal of sorts,
For us to keep our thoughts
Locked away, never to be
Heard, seen, felt, understood.





James Bergman is a British Psychology student, Philosopher, and avid reader of Literature. He is also the founder of Ahead of the Curve, where he publishes thought-provoking discussions, and analytical book reviews. He is also co-host of the popular podcast: The Bastard Sons of Oedipus, which gazes into the abyss of humanity’s darkest questions and depraved false consolations regarding the theme park of unsolicited rides that we regretfully denounce as our reality.

Comments

  1. Hi, James-- Just a short note to tell you how much I loved these poems. They speak directly to my soul, which has often pondered and written about these very existential thoughts... Bravo!

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