Poetic Cognition

By Calvin W. Allison

The poet’s mind is a cognitive universe of wonder and intrigue that author Calvin W. Allison gives a personal tour through in his newest project Poetic Cognition. Having exceeded the standard merits of what common poetry fans have come to expect from their favorite poets of the modern day era, Calvin feels obliged to further transcend the natural order of things in regards to poetic design.
From the coded galaxies where poetry like “Ready, Set, Go!” and “The Equidistant” orbit with their desire of discovery, to the zany galaxies where the “Pensive Penny” poetry series shoots like curveball comets across the intellect’s processing screen, to the radical, exotic galaxies where poetry like “The Faces In The Mirror” and “Illuminated Destinies” amplify throughout the uncharted dimensions of the abstract cosmos, these works offer a healthy balanced diet that consists of all the divers major thought-groups to assist in satisfying the psychological appetite.
In Poetic Cognition, Calvin has penned a new cycle of poetry that should be able to arouse every intellectual sense available to satisfy the cravings
of those who desire an expansion in their mental capacities.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781665505734

Calvin W. Allison

Calvin W. Allison was born in a town called Ada in the state of Oklahoma. When he was four years of age, his family moved from the town of Ada to a remote location deep in the country where he grew up. His immediate biological family consisted of himself, his dad, mom, and two sisters. The years passed while the surrounding climate of his childhood took him through the diverse seasons of growth where the developing cycles of character took their effect. During his 7th to 10th grade years at the educational edifice called school, he experienced some very difficult times that caused his emotions to darken, and his self-esteem to sink low into the dimly lit hallways of manic depression. Inward hurt outwardly resulted in a reckless living that sent him staggering to find balance down a pathway obstructed with self constructed landmines that he narrowly edged his way around. During that dark venturing -while in self destruct mode- he wrote numerous volumes of negative poetry, and surrounded his life with dark secular entertainment that intensified his excessive impulses for erosion. He attached himself to harmful habits, often indulging in drug use, and in alcoholic consumption. As a result of his dangerous addictions, he went off-road into several ditches, encountered various perils, and once spent a night in a physical jail. The time that he spent existing was unproductive, and the chains of the world were steadily tightening around his vague hope of progressing. Though the rope of his unstableness was long enough to stretch through an accumulation of scarred up years, it reached its end on the night of February 7th 1999. On that night he stepped away from the toxic waste that he had become, and toward the belief that there was Someone there that could help him. So he called out to God with a sincere heart, and then received an experience that gave him an unyielding desire to continue seeking God. Then one night he opened up his heart and received the Lord Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior. Calvin was born again, and everything in his life became brand new. His eyes were opened up, and he could see things with a spiritual clarity that he previously was not able to. His perspective on life had completely changed, and he got rid of all of the negative volumes of poetry that he had written. He also got rid of all of the dark secular entertainment that had once contributed to his condition of grief. The light of God’s pure redeeming truth had filled his heart and mind with a love that reconstructed his entire being. Now Calvin writes for the glory of God, and bears witness to the life changing Gospel of Jesus Christ. Calvin is a well learned student of the Bible who stands strong in the faith of the Lord. He is a Conservative American with a good understanding of the political system, and he has an interest in the field of true science. His Christian values are the foundation of any subject that he advances in, and upon that foundation he cannot be moved. Whether the subjects are of political significance , scientific significance , or of any other subjects of significance, Calvin strongly believes that they must be proven durable from a Biblical standpoint. If they cannot be proven durable from a Biblical standpoint, he believes that they have no place in the classifications that are relevant to importance, and therefore have no underlined substance to offer that would be beneficial to anyone. Calvin is proficient in writing in a various form of styles, including in a second person format, as was demonstrated in this short documentation of biographical/ testimonial information. He hopes that his books greatly bless all of those that read them.

Book preview

The Hallways

Let me stir your emotions with the touch of my pen

and I will take you to places you have not been.

I will write you a sky where your heart can soar high

as the wings in my mind enable you to fly.

No coffins allowed in the break of this day,

so let the dead die in the ground where they lay.

Keep a clear head while you enter my domain.

No tracking in clouds down the halls of my brain.

The toils in confusion get no promotions here,

so leave the milk that spoils in their barns of fear.

The mountains are cast away with the other turmoils that melted your snowmen during your relapses into retrospect where the cat of your crossings jumped through its curious hoops while the flummoxed chicken ran around a pumpkin patch until it found the dirt that no rug could conceal for the shootout on the street that subsequently became a war in a chaotic dust storm on the porch of reflection.

Let me start your engines to speed them into

a fast lane of insight they’re not used to.

I’ll properly place you directly in reach

of the metaphors able to help you to breach

the fathoms responsible for holding you back,

passed on from the zombies in charge of the pack.

The limits that beckon you are footprints in sand

that lead you away from your own knack to stand.

Don’t let your travels be first in your ear.

It’s the ones on your tongue that will adhere.

Approach me when the lame entertainments spoil your maze and I will remind you of your taste for mystery like a magnify glass in tune with translucent thoughts revealing the chords of harmony that relax the storms with intriguing hallways to walk down in order to catch a glimpse of something beyond the spoon fed hype that never sit well with the stomach of your aspirations craving originality.

Unload The Mention

Unload the mention before the dawn.

The yawn won’t be gone until it’s on.

The doubtful proclaim that it’s a con,

but always remember the King moves the pawn.

The salt wounds the dark, and in pain it cries.

The cities are gleaning with drones and with spies.

Their shades are like monsters that hide their tries

to methodically censor their own slow demise.

Your move, adventurer. Think 10 steps ahead.

There’s a valley of hope, and a valley of dread.

Be a brave knight, and use the brain in your head.

Don’t be misled down the road of the dead.

Crush confusion and clear the clouded sky.

Listen to the voice that tells you to try.

The board is still there, though passing you by,

you still have the option to live or to die.

You want five dances and two coins to throw.

One for today and one for tomorrow.

But the fire escape led you to sorrow

where you couldn’t pawn your heart to borrow

the rain checks that bounced, and left you in debt

in the thundering halls of striking regret.

But you’ve been peering through that gloomy net,

looking for something that you never could get.

And now the channel is starting to come through.

The static is breaking, and you sense something new.

The Hand that you’re seeing is reaching for you.

It’s time to play smart. You know what to do.

The Midnight Of Themselves

We escalate together through these sunsets to midnights where we ponder in the portions of the days that remain for us to analyze.

We travel in our time machines to lands of retrospect and speculations for us to evaluate and calculate the references and probable phases.

We can’t fix the crooked pictures on the walls of our thoughts, but we can straighten the psychological pattern that put those pictures in place.

Reflections sometimes reveal faces that cause us to shop for masks, but the checkout is where those reflections decide how the walkout will be.

The purchases we make form our identities into the real deal or the puppets that cause laughter to break out in the cellars of captivity.

There are no receipts to be kept, but there are those purging fires that wisdom has a habit of lighting for our dark rooms that need them.

We can’t fix the world, but we can individually step into it with a authenticity that allows us to witness the most beautiful sunrises

which in turn illuminates the scenery around us so that others can see something more intangible to reach for in the midnights of themselves.

The Burning Buildings

Of Nostalgia

We take journeys through the burning buildings of nostalgia only to watch frames burn around pictures we hang up in the present.

The Reflection’s Own

The mirror stares. It double dares.

It shares its scares and bleeding mares.

Are you there? It doesn’t care.

It knows too well that you’re aware.

What a pair. What a tear.

What a flare entwined to care.

Rinse the pretense off the fence.

Condense the offense, more suspense.

Mince the expense with the whence,

hence