deepundergroundpoetry.com
This Love Thing Is All Wrong - Poetry Slam
In the beginning, There was God.
And then God made love. And God saw that it was good.
And then God turned to John Lennon and asked ‘Are you sure this is all we really need, John?’
And John nodded and spoke. ‘It is indeed.’
…… Said no priest ever.
But it is a funny thought isn’t it?
When do you think love was love first created?
Of when and how can probably be debated
I think though
One thing is for sure
Love in it’s essence before this mind of ours,
Was probably a lot more simple and pure
It probably came without pretty words and without a ring
Without a priest or god to accept it or anything
It would have been an unfettered union of connection
Coupled with fact
Of basic matter flowing and the action of simply being
And to enact
What things intuitively know
What things really just feel
Underneath the idealist baloney of love, what is truly real.
A lengthy definition, I know
But please hear me out. Please.
I just want to show that perhaps love was meant to be the force in the background
That keeps all matter entwined together and tightly bound
And whether to you that notion rings true
I feel, that Underneath all these thoughts and feelings
Some form of pure love just flows through all of me and all of you
Do you feel that too?
I think love is the energy holding everything in the universe together.
Call it dark matter, the god particle, WHATEVER
The tiny tethers scientists just cannot seem to hold down and find
Unions of energy connecting on fundamental levels
Vibrationa-Wait…..I’m sorry.
STOP IT.
Just stop…. looking at me like that!
Stop lusting over what you hear and see
I am trying to tell you that love isn’t just about the feelings between you and me.
Geez.
Ahem…..
Now where were we?
Ah right
My basic fundamental laws of connectivity.
I am speaking of the whole universal components that ever was and will be
Each single moment
That makes up every inch of reality.
Love to me…. is everything you see. Everything is love.
Never mind Physicist, the Beatles had it right.
Love is all we really need!
But….. I wish that was the end of the story
Humanities definition isn’t that at all.
Today’s love to me is the slow and desperate fall
From something new to something old
The epitome emotion of a bold humanity
Bound in self desire
An empire of gluttonous self pleasure
Pure hedonistic leisure
Without thoughts that maybe
Just maybe
We’re doing this love thing all wrong
Maybe all along
Like I’ve been saying
Love was first and foremost simply implied
To be more than just something shared between man and wife
And solely humankind
Like, I REALLY love trees.
Seriously. It’s what I want to be eventually.
Anyway. Back to the story of love shall we?
You see, I have this theory that when society and language came along
Loves pure and universal
Well….. love song.
Got messed up and rambled
It got scrambled through a perspective of harsh survival, brutal rival and competition
A billion little expeditions of selfish love renditions.
Love became some hierarchy of
me
me
and me.
I imagine throughout humanities struggling ages
Love got captured behind enemy lines
Beyond the kingdoms of greed and lust
Imprisoned battered and busted
Love in these mental wartimes eventually
Became somehow in short desperate supply
It’s once abundant sustenance
Now rationed
Denied and refined
Into a quick hit drug we’re all standing in line to snort
For a moments pleasure
An escapism and a getaway leisure
Smuggled into our metaphysical prison
Of loneliness we make inside
And if that isn’t enough of a depressing thought
To reside upon
Love when imprisoned to it’s final degrees
Gets all the qualities it shouldn’t be
In the POW camps of our history, love changed to something less than ordinary
Jealously, anger, envy and fear
This wasn’t the arsenal Love had before these desperate years
Oh no my friend
I think Loves been hijacked and I think it’s a spy
Though, all conspiracies aside
I think the way we love today
Is a Shell shocked version of what the universe had in mind.
I mean sure the universe can be seen as a hostile place
A big dark scary space of colossal destruction
But it’s also creation
Constant efficient reiteration of all that is
Into what will be
To me that doesn’t sound so bad
If you are accepting that change
Is the only noble constant to be had
From all this being alive, thing
It seems change for humans is hard accepting
But the more I think, it’s what makes living beautiful right?
The duality and inevitability of day and night
Of life and death
The frailty of knowing in my head
These lungs I have one day will exhale my final breath, And a curtain will be drawn and I will be dead.
BUT THE SHOW! MUST! GO! ON!
Someone once said.
These thoughts don’t deny me of anything.
In fact they bring me joy
Because I employ the ideal that love is everthing.
The knowledge that my acts of love on life’s stage
Live on in you all, re-made and renewed in some way.
And even on a material level my body will be broken down again
Into the soils of this earth from which I was made
And I will help sustain something somehow
And still be a part of everything
…… Hopefully a tree.
And when the earth explodes eventually I’ll just be stardust again
Apparently from whence I came
And a pure ideal of reunited love simplistically will just be
Without any thought of me
Now… Isn’t that a wealth of selfless love right there
Above and beyond the compare to the scared notions of heaven and hell?
What? You thought because I spoke of God before, maybe that’s where my faith dwells?
No my friends, my strength lies in simply sharing simple love.
The one that is an unfettered union of connection
Coupled with fact
Of basic matter flowing and the action of simply being
And to enact
What we intuitively know
What we really just feel
Underneath this idealistic baloney of love,
What is truly real.
A lengthy definition of love, I know
But when all is said and thought and done and this place is inhabited by no one, and mark my words that day will come.
I think It’s all the universe truly had to show.
And then God made love. And God saw that it was good.
And then God turned to John Lennon and asked ‘Are you sure this is all we really need, John?’
And John nodded and spoke. ‘It is indeed.’
…… Said no priest ever.
But it is a funny thought isn’t it?
When do you think love was love first created?
Of when and how can probably be debated
I think though
One thing is for sure
Love in it’s essence before this mind of ours,
Was probably a lot more simple and pure
It probably came without pretty words and without a ring
Without a priest or god to accept it or anything
It would have been an unfettered union of connection
Coupled with fact
Of basic matter flowing and the action of simply being
And to enact
What things intuitively know
What things really just feel
Underneath the idealist baloney of love, what is truly real.
A lengthy definition, I know
But please hear me out. Please.
I just want to show that perhaps love was meant to be the force in the background
That keeps all matter entwined together and tightly bound
And whether to you that notion rings true
I feel, that Underneath all these thoughts and feelings
Some form of pure love just flows through all of me and all of you
Do you feel that too?
I think love is the energy holding everything in the universe together.
Call it dark matter, the god particle, WHATEVER
The tiny tethers scientists just cannot seem to hold down and find
Unions of energy connecting on fundamental levels
Vibrationa-Wait…..I’m sorry.
STOP IT.
Just stop…. looking at me like that!
Stop lusting over what you hear and see
I am trying to tell you that love isn’t just about the feelings between you and me.
Geez.
Ahem…..
Now where were we?
Ah right
My basic fundamental laws of connectivity.
I am speaking of the whole universal components that ever was and will be
Each single moment
That makes up every inch of reality.
Love to me…. is everything you see. Everything is love.
Never mind Physicist, the Beatles had it right.
Love is all we really need!
But….. I wish that was the end of the story
Humanities definition isn’t that at all.
Today’s love to me is the slow and desperate fall
From something new to something old
The epitome emotion of a bold humanity
Bound in self desire
An empire of gluttonous self pleasure
Pure hedonistic leisure
Without thoughts that maybe
Just maybe
We’re doing this love thing all wrong
Maybe all along
Like I’ve been saying
Love was first and foremost simply implied
To be more than just something shared between man and wife
And solely humankind
Like, I REALLY love trees.
Seriously. It’s what I want to be eventually.
Anyway. Back to the story of love shall we?
You see, I have this theory that when society and language came along
Loves pure and universal
Well….. love song.
Got messed up and rambled
It got scrambled through a perspective of harsh survival, brutal rival and competition
A billion little expeditions of selfish love renditions.
Love became some hierarchy of
me
me
and me.
I imagine throughout humanities struggling ages
Love got captured behind enemy lines
Beyond the kingdoms of greed and lust
Imprisoned battered and busted
Love in these mental wartimes eventually
Became somehow in short desperate supply
It’s once abundant sustenance
Now rationed
Denied and refined
Into a quick hit drug we’re all standing in line to snort
For a moments pleasure
An escapism and a getaway leisure
Smuggled into our metaphysical prison
Of loneliness we make inside
And if that isn’t enough of a depressing thought
To reside upon
Love when imprisoned to it’s final degrees
Gets all the qualities it shouldn’t be
In the POW camps of our history, love changed to something less than ordinary
Jealously, anger, envy and fear
This wasn’t the arsenal Love had before these desperate years
Oh no my friend
I think Loves been hijacked and I think it’s a spy
Though, all conspiracies aside
I think the way we love today
Is a Shell shocked version of what the universe had in mind.
I mean sure the universe can be seen as a hostile place
A big dark scary space of colossal destruction
But it’s also creation
Constant efficient reiteration of all that is
Into what will be
To me that doesn’t sound so bad
If you are accepting that change
Is the only noble constant to be had
From all this being alive, thing
It seems change for humans is hard accepting
But the more I think, it’s what makes living beautiful right?
The duality and inevitability of day and night
Of life and death
The frailty of knowing in my head
These lungs I have one day will exhale my final breath, And a curtain will be drawn and I will be dead.
BUT THE SHOW! MUST! GO! ON!
Someone once said.
These thoughts don’t deny me of anything.
In fact they bring me joy
Because I employ the ideal that love is everthing.
The knowledge that my acts of love on life’s stage
Live on in you all, re-made and renewed in some way.
And even on a material level my body will be broken down again
Into the soils of this earth from which I was made
And I will help sustain something somehow
And still be a part of everything
…… Hopefully a tree.
And when the earth explodes eventually I’ll just be stardust again
Apparently from whence I came
And a pure ideal of reunited love simplistically will just be
Without any thought of me
Now… Isn’t that a wealth of selfless love right there
Above and beyond the compare to the scared notions of heaven and hell?
What? You thought because I spoke of God before, maybe that’s where my faith dwells?
No my friends, my strength lies in simply sharing simple love.
The one that is an unfettered union of connection
Coupled with fact
Of basic matter flowing and the action of simply being
And to enact
What we intuitively know
What we really just feel
Underneath this idealistic baloney of love,
What is truly real.
A lengthy definition of love, I know
But when all is said and thought and done and this place is inhabited by no one, and mark my words that day will come.
I think It’s all the universe truly had to show.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 0
reading list entries 0
comments 0
reads 896
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.