Category: Poetry

The Intrigue Of Our Ignorance

Self-aware
Unconscious upheavals

I repose in my hermit’s lair
Wondering at the evils

I have only questions and sincere curiosity
Pearls before swine is fake luminosity

Biologically pathological
Hypnotically illogical

The passers-by on the street both intrigue me and concern me.

Ontologically astrological
Neurologically cosmological

What do our psyches share?
Your sinister glare driven by need
My awkward stare trying to get a read

Do I even belong here?  I think not.
If that were so I’d cast my lot

But as it is and as it’s always been
I live on the outside looking in

As it was and as it is now
I live from the inside out as evidenced by my furrowed brow

I don’t understand.  I really don’t.  But, let me heap some cognitive dissonance upon these sentiments.  There there.  All better now.

Who does? You may ask.  As we pass around the delusion flask.

None of its real is it?  “Of course it is!” You laugh.  As our teacher talks backwards drawing a nursery rhyme graph.

I sit and quietly think, “what is one to make of all this??”  It’s like living in the film, “Rabbits, or The Matrix, or the old school “Clash of the Titans.”

We really are going there?  Our continuum has found its chiasm.  And we are plunging into irony.  Each side thinking of the other, “the joke is on you.”

0

The Perfection of Irony: My Parabolic Catalyst


Cozett Contemplates the perfection of irony…via her own poetry.


I am grateful for the storm
assaulting my form
it broke me free from the norm

In the swirling vortex
My cerebral cortex
accessed my predecessors & I began to sing in an unknown tongue
little knowing the history that the future had already sung

Looking down I noticed I’d been lifted
By a black funnel cloud I’d been gifted

Perspectives of all eras at once parallel
I got a taste of heaven because I’d gone through hell

Tornadic twister tickling my toes
Queen of the storms they’re the fodder for my prose

It is a beautifully fantastic agreement we have
These storms work healing for me like a salve

What would destroy others was my resting place nearly all my life
The only bread I ate was the alchemy of strife

My nourishment a decoction of my very bones
Gave me the strength to build with their cast stones
Remineralizing my emotional frame
Taking pride in all my shame

Ironic is I and forever will be
A parabolic conundrum is the mystery of me

A soul tenderized till it turned to dust
My veins filled with watery rust

Some were destined to have their formation begin at the peak
While yet others foundations were steeped in the blackest of bleak

The fonts of my thoughts drip social media like the ink of a quill
My catalystic gift is to write till we heal

Catalyst
Catechist
Paradoxically profound

The gist is in the grist
And its wisdom is compound

Cozett Dunn ©


#chatttownpoet #cozettcontemplates #thepoetryofcozettdunn #writer #poetry #profoundpoetry #ironicpoetry #alchemy #thecatalyst

0

My Utopia Hyperopia: Midnight Poetry Musings

I write about what shakes me

I write about what shapes me

My writing has a quality that creates me

Ink on a page with blurry eyes I write

Blood of a sage with poetry as my rite

Didactic revelry I wallow in the ponder

Galactic hypertrophy I follow the wander

Utopia Hyperopia I orbit reticulum

My vision chiastic on the time continuum

I write in the retrospect of my newly dawned future

I had no choice but to change because I ran out of suture

My patched-up heart ripped by a shard of my pscyhe

The finality of its beat was redeemed by Nike

A winged goddess of victory I became

I now muse about the lore of my name

Gold poured into me and I became Kintsukuroi

Millennia from now they’ll be reading my story

I’m an Indigo child, a seed of the stars

Life bursts forth from my luminous scars

For millions of years I must have existed

My mind was needed so my soul persisted

After this venture in incarnation I will lay it all down

I may be human but I am not a noun

And after that I’ll tell about what shaked me and that which I shook

I’ll tell about what created me and that which I took…

© Cozett Dunn Dec. 11th, 2022

0

In The Silence

In the quietness of the dark

In the quietness of my room

In the quiet of my pain

I transmute my tragedies

Would that God would build me an ark

Would to God I was back in the womb

God, would you please release this cosmic brain

And I will transmute my tragedies from there

Oh, shining light who knows no chasm

My feeble legs are given to spasm

I kick and I roll and cannot sleep

Head throbbing, bladder thumping, I rise twice an hour

Wrapped in a weighted heating pad and hanging on to hope

This is me writing trying to cope

0

Rain Falling Forward

Times of refreshing rain falling on me falling forward

I turned to my inner sea and collapsed shoreward

Rising from the black sand beach of my subconscious

Walls closing in around me I must become dauntless

My time here has come to end. My time here is about to fall backward

May it collapse into the unconscious sea for it never was truly me

I learned something the other day while I was reading, “Flowers On The Path.” And that is the karma of living unaligned invites wrath.

I read this book by Sadhguru, my Indian mystic, the one I aspire to emulate.

It was the rain falling forward that knocked me from this path of wrath

It was the rain falling forward that was my footpath

Solar plexus has become my lexis

I’ve learned to trust my gut

My pivotal nexus gives assurance so I strut

From one country to the next all around the globe

In the soil of every country I become their microbe

Giving life to the foundation of all we are and need

My happiness demands I elude the greed

Hermetic aesthetic

My soul won’t fit in a corporate hole

Capitalism is apathetic

Because it deems the hermit pathetic

So narrow. Only preying it knows

But, I plan to take it down with the gift of my prose

The great whore who preys upon the people

The great whore who has made it’s home under the steeple

I will write until my writing becomes a freedom song

Liberating the inhabitants of the earth and making them strong

A mother to the nations I’m calling first the east, then the north

Before I venture to the south and call them all forth

I give up entirely on the west. It is from where I came

It’s way of life nearly made me lame. I will leave it to another creature

Or perhaps to the lukewarm church and its favorite hateful preacher

Were it not for the falling forward rain

My life would still be subject to drain

But, I am moving forward now in this beautiful falling forward rain

0

Forward

I want to take my poetry world wide. I want to do book tours all over the globe and have opportunities to share my poetry on every continent. It’s all I think about these days. It is “the” hope that I hang on to. I envision a life where I can live my life….by living MY life. Not a corporate life, not a 1099 contractor life, not the typical American life.

I am not college educated unfortunately. I may eventually have a bachelor’s in psychology. But, beyond that because of my age and the fact that I am tapped out on student loan availability, it is highly unlikely I’ll have that accomplishment and the wage that a degree can ensure. I am almost 44. Child free and overweight as of right now. I have a fiancé. But, I’m not truly confident because I feel very insecure and even though I’ve told him how I need to be loved neither of us are confident he will be able to do that.

I am desperate to be financially independent. No degree, no 2nd income in my household. I feel hopeless. I feel afraid because I don’t have anything that can secure my future. If I stay in America I am bound to the wages of a high school graduate and I cannot work for myself doing real estate anymore because the toll it has taken on my mental health has..in many ways destroyed me. Even as I type this I am simultaneously worrying (which is work) about bizarre transactions and how to control the chaos and not be chewed out or threatened.

I’m tired but I have to be able to depend on my body to earn money according to the obligations and interests of someone with more money than myself. Dictates my chronically ill body is getting more difficult to fulfill as I age. Can anyone else out there relate to me? I feel alone.

My greatest gift, my greatest resource is my mind and my writing ability. It’s the one thing in this life I have that could potentially position me for security. I am tired of living under fear of eviction. I need more than I am able to physically produce. I need more than the wage of a high school graduate.

I have done all I can. Truly. All I can do now is keep writing, thinking, writing, thinking and pray that when I look up again my world will have changed and I will have a husband who burns to love me exactly the way I need. A man who promote my relaxation, security, and peace and not take it all away or even contribute to those things to begin with.

So, here I am on my free WordPress account. Typing out my thoughts, my woes, my poetry, my points. It is my form of preparation so that when opportunity arrives hopefully my one hope to be so famous as a writer and thinker that it can sustain me financially.

Right now I have a book I have finished. I have an appointment with an editor on Tuesday. Right now because I am on my cycle and my body hurts all over and I am so exhausted I feel doubtful it will end up betting published because I don’t know how to publish. I’ve tried to learn about and have played around on Kindle. But, I am seriously not smart when it comes to technology and formatting my writing.

I believe, ultimately, I am going forward. It’s just hard when my body feels the way it does.

My hope as I end 2022 is that in 2023 my fiancé can love me the way I need, my book will be published in both the USA and India, and that I will finally come into financial security. Do I want to be rich? Very much. Because I am so tired of being poor. I can hardly afford being a single woman with a cat and I am VERY low maintenance. I get my hair done. That’s it. No nails, lashes, Botox, shoe obsession, purse obsession, jewelry obsession, perfume, makeup….you get the picture. I drive my cousin’s car because I lost mine due to gas prices several months ago.

I need out. The only way out is if I can write my way. I will give it all I’ve got. I am so ready for 2022 to be over. I need next year to be my year. I need it. I want it for me and my cat and my cousin. By the end of the year or at least early next year I plan on resigning my real estate license. I would rather work at a gas station then look at or talk about real estate, houses, or contracts ever again. It’s a toxic industry. I’ve missed years upon years of family events, fun with friends and for what? For people who treat me unkindly and for a career that hasn’t allowed me a non-working vacation since 2011? Sorry. But, I’m saying it. FUCK that shit. FUCK it. It’s not me and I’m at the end of my rope with it. I’m done. I cannot wait to change my phone number. I cannot wait to delete my email address or cancel it or whatever. I can’t wait to announce on my social media that I am no longer in the industry. I can’t wait to be me. I can’t wait to feel free. I can’t wait to move out of this area and hopefully out of the country, at least for a while.

I have my eye on India. Whether me and my fiancé work out or not I plan on spending some months there in peace and quiet and not be fucking bothered by real estate or people who wish to drain my energy period. I need a fresh start. And I may be broke. But, I will start fresh even if I am broke. I’m not stopping, hesitating, or halting. I am done.

So, as I lay here I have no idea who will read this. If anyone will read this. But, anyway, here I am. And there…I will be.

Cheers,

Cozett

2

Born Of Storms: A Primal Brew

Born of storms and hurricanes
Nursed at the breasts of the  monsoon rains

Thunder dandled me on her lap like a prize
And lightning taught me how to be wise

Violet colored I became electric
Mystical musings my soul eclectic

Tonight I stood beneath a navy sky trembling in the autumn winds
The white sparkling stars so clear they became my lens

Glistening neath the starlight escapade
I realized life is truly a charade

Value is only valuable because we ascribe it so
Fickle humanity….we are our own foe

Evolve, come play with me
I wish to wash your feet in the sea

Dreamscapes unfurling in the quiet of the night forest
“I love you with all that I am” my heart and mind chorused

Shall I really be taken into the sky?
Will these naked branches witness me cry?

I can hear the gentle rustling of crunchy leaves
Longing for harvest and without any sheaves

I walked alone beneath an indigo sky
A woman in the woods.  A catcher in the rye.

Surely I misunderstand
As I am misunderstood

But, how will I ever stand
Except here in the dark of the wood

I am elemental in my being
I don’t appreciate experimental seeing

My road has never been paved
It wasn’t fitting that my trauma be waived

It made me who stands before you today
My poetry my progeny my indelible way

You know what I’d really like to do?
I’d like to pound the ground into a primal brew

Clink a big cheers to my sister Venus
Have a scandalous laugh with the ghost of Remus

Swirling mythology mixed with symbology
I laid foundations without apology

Cozett Contemplates

#chatttownpoet #cozettcontemplates #MidNightPoetry #thinker







0

The Cadence Of My Sorrow

In the quiet place of contemplation
I sought refuge from consternation

At the zero point where all realities collide
I had no choice but to go inside

On a crisp autumn day I escaped to a lily pond
I become one with my words they are my wand

The greatest tool for the greatest fool
Dripping madness by a puddled pool

I’d like to make my throne upon these floating emerald jewels
I’d like to pretend love is wild and without rules

A dreamer I am and will always be
As my body bears the penalty of me

I write and write in an effort to right
I glean and glean but there is only blight

Surely breakthrough is fodder for the insane
Truly the only resource I have is my brain

Process over prediction
It is my dereliction

Forever alone
No flesh, blood nor bone

A silent heart’s cry
I will stop asking why

In the quiet place of contemplation
I face with courage my resignation

Everything exists yet nothing at all
And in between this reality I find my stall

On a cold blustery autumn day I found myself by a muddy pool of green
Water lillies float beautifully with no need to preen

If only I could be as beautiful in my natural state
The cadence of my sorrow is the music of my fate

Cozett Contemplates #poetry #chatttownpoet

0

Deep Within My Keep: A Poem Of I Am

And, when the time was right I became my own

My flesh your figment and justice my bone

Deep within the keep of who I am

I exist within a hologram

Projected realities colliding with the fates

While cunning chimeras pace at my gates

I am the offspring of a million goodbyes

I am the prayer that they can’t catechise

To Adam I say, “I’ll see your rib and raise you intelligence.”

And, to me he says, “I’m only interested in your acquiescence.”

The gamble that is and has always been

Is how authentic can you become without it being seen as sin

I owe no one comfort to the detriment of my own

The reality of me is my creative capstone

I repose in the still point of infinity

I refuse to be the adjuvant of your affinity

I do not exist for your pleasure

I’ve come to unearth mysterious treasure

You will not find me on the surface

It’s best to look for me in cursus

Water witching forgotten wells

Drawing deep from my poetic tales

I’m a nomadic wonder within this realm

My heart is my compass and it’s steady at the helm

In my defiant softness your trespass has become apparent

Your rage belies your belief that you are inerrant

You are justified in crossing my boundaries? Arrogance like yours must be steeled in foundries

And for what reason? Your inescapable bruteness is grounds for treason

A throne of fables, fae, and fire

My feminine ferocity becoming a pyre

Save the cherub for an appropriate setting

Charon is best suited for my level of vetting

Hades has no need for hierophants

And my soul has been looted by sycophants

So, when the time was right I became my own

My flesh your reality and autonomy my bone

Deal with it.

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑