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Sam Lampyris Sep 25
Date written: July 19, 2024
yisselakh@myyahoo.com


Glowworm

By: Yisselakh

Verse 1:

Oh what more is there to say
About the beetle with new clothes
About the beetle with a new name
This as close as a speck of dust
Can get to catch a star

Bridge:

I know it won't be far
I can see the sparks
And you know
I'll never stray from the path
And you know
I'll never stray from the path

Chorus:

So
Light the way
Light the way
Light the way

So
Light the way
Light the way
Light the way

Verse 2:

I must have been waiting
Since the dawn of days
As you hid within the tall grass blades
When the weary eyes of dusk sway
Blink between time and that eternal place
I'll see you ascend above this maze

Chorus:

And
Light the way
Light the way
Light the way

And
Light the way
Light the way
Light the way

Bridge 2:

Back to innocence, back to the ancient dream
And this time,
I'll stay
You'll stay
We'll stay
And see

CODA:

The wasteland of sorrow
We left behind
Ebbs away, fades away
In the light, with the night
In the light, with the night
Oh love of mine
Love of mine
Love of mine
Isn't this just divine
You and I
And all we love
For all of life
The Secret Lives of Sam Lampyris 4
Loosely Inspired By:
FABRE’S
BOOK OF INSECTS
RETOLD FROM ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS’
TRANSLATION of FABRE’S “SOUVENIRS ENTOMOLOGIQUES”
BY MRS. RODOLPH STAWELL


-------


Disclaimer:

Sam Lampyris is peeking through time from eternity. Sam Lampyris has all the time in the world. Sam Lampyris wants to know everything, Sam Lampyris wants to do everything, Sam Lampyris wants to write about everything. Sam Lampyris draws, Sam Lampyris paints, writes, learns, sings, thinks.
Sam Lampyris has many facets and many names, many interests and hobbies.
Sam Lampyris is PinkCircleLyrics,
He is Yisselakh.
He is Meynoher.
And more.
He is impulsive, and follows the ebbs and flow of his stream of consciousness faithfully.

All conscious directly inspired pastiche, homage, references, adaptation, and other derivative content will be noted, and any other similarities beyond this I can only attribute to subconscious influence, collective consciousness or unconscious, or pure coincidence.

Unlike previous works by Sam Lampyris under various pseudonyms, these works are less reactive and more proactive. This is to say that the previous poems and lyrics often sprung directly from my immediate reaction to things I have heard, listened to, read, seen or watched, and are usually much more authentic to my personal philosophy, be it intuitive or learned.

These, however, are more proactive in the sense that I voluntarily seek prompts and inspirations from books and other mediums I look to learn from and write with them in mind. I do this in order to fortify my understanding of them in my own preferred way.

However, during the writing process, my mind always, in some strange way, becomes locked in a track and I, again, seem to be always directed to follow my intuition. Thus, most of the works are non rhyming or rhyming free verses, as instead of writing with strict and consistent meters, it feels like my own being is forced to follow rhythm patterns that "feels right."

Thus, though I can't promise these thoughts are anything under the sun, in fact I can promise the exact opposite:

Ecclesiastes1:10 King James Version

"Is there any thing whereof it may be said, See, this is new? it hath been already of old time, which was before us."

I can promise these works are absolutely authentic to the entire being of Sam Lampyris, no matter what his name is at the time.
Sam Lampyris Sep 13
Date written: June 23, 2024
yisselakh@myyahoo.com

Mantis

By: Yisselakh

Verse:

So you look above the hedge
And see the mantis on the edge
The waning sun shines through its silhouette
A sea of green perched beneath
The roaring storm of overcast red
The roaring storm of overcast red
The roaring storm of overcast red

Pre-Chorus:

And the little life
Oh so it oversees the other side?
Arms curved, and the eyes?
The eyes?
The eyes?
Piercing into the mind
Does the little dot lead
A sphere of truth or lies

Chorus:

For humanity patiently on this side
Of time, of life, of a metaphorical rhyme
What do you see from above us
What can you prophesy?
If he were the cicada perhaps
We'd know everything
Everything
Everything
But it stays so silent
Oh so silent
Oh so silent
So we can do nothing
Except keep dreaming
Keep dreaming
Keep dreaming

Repeat:

Pre-Chorus:

Ask the little life
Does it oversees the other side?
Arms curved, and the eyes?
The eyes?
The eyes?
Piercing into the mind
Does the little dot lead
A sphere of truth or lies

Chorus:

For humanity patiently on this side
Of time, of life, of a metaphorical rhyme
What do you see from above us
What can you prophesy?
If he were the cicada perhaps
We'd know everything
Everything
Everything
But it stays so silent
Oh so silent
Oh so silent
So we can do nothing
Except keep dreaming
Keep dreaming
Keep dreaming

CODA:

Is there an unshakable truth waiting of a sweet
Awakening
That, my child, my soul, the faithful and hopeless
We have to answer from within
Do you believe?
Do you believe?
Do you believe?
The Secret Lives of Sam Lampyris 3
Loosely Inspired By:
FABRE’S
BOOK OF INSECTS
RETOLD FROM ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS’
TRANSLATION of FABRE’S “SOUVENIRS ENTOMOLOGIQUES”
BY MRS. RODOLPH STAWELL


-------


Disclaimer:

Sam Lampyris is peeking through time from eternity. Sam Lampyris has all the time in the world. Sam Lampyris wants to know everything, Sam Lampyris wants to do everything, Sam Lampyris wants to write about everything. Sam Lampyris draws, Sam Lampyris paints, writes, learns, sings, thinks.
Sam Lampyris has many facets and many names, many interests and hobbies.
Sam Lampyris is PinkCircleLyrics,
He is Yisselakh.
He is Meynoher.
And more.
He is impulsive, and follows the ebbs and flow of his stream of consciousness faithfully.

All conscious directly inspired pastiche, homage, references, adaptation, and other derivative content will be noted, and any other similarities beyond this I can only attribute to subconscious influence, collective consciousness or unconscious, or pure coincidence.

Unlike previous works by Sam Lampyris under various pseudonyms, these works are less reactive and more proactive. This is to say that the previous poems and lyrics often sprung directly from my immediate reaction to things I have heard, listened to, read, seen or watched, and are usually much more authentic to my personal philosophy, be it intuitive or learned.

These, however, are more proactive in the sense that I voluntarily seek prompts and inspirations from books and other mediums I look to learn from and write with them in mind. I do this in order to fortify my understanding of them in my own preferred way.

However, during the writing process, my mind always, in some strange way, becomes locked in a track and I, again, seem to be always directed to follow my intuition. Thus, most of the works are non rhyming or rhyming free verses, as instead of writing with strict and consistent meters, it feels like my own being is forced to follow rhythm patterns that "feels right."

Thus, though I can't promise these thoughts are anything under the sun, in fact I can promise the exact opposite:

Ecclesiastes1:10 King James Version

"Is there any thing whereof it may be said, See, this is new? it hath been already of old time, which was before us."

I can promise these works are absolutely authentic to the entire being of Sam Lampyris, no matter what his name is at the time.
Sam Lampyris Sep 11
Date written: June 20, 2024
yisselakh@myyahoo.com

The Cicada

By: Yisselakh

Intro:

Therein lies the rub
You're mistaking the grubs
You can't even tell between the cicada and the wasp
When it's so obvious
So obvious

Chorus:

Who's the singer, the summer bug
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Content with its own love
Even if its something perhaps
Only he'll love

Verse 1:

And you still think you know
The stranger of the olive grove
The slacker shut out of the ant's abode
And we always think we are the ants
In these stories told
At least that's what's sold
At least that's what's sold
To us

Chorus:

Who's the singer, the summer bug
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Content with its own love
Even if its something perhaps
Only he'll love

Verse 2:

You looked in the pond
And felt rather cross
This ant looks too much like a cicada
You feel it's too late to accept who you are
When you spend most your life lost
Doesn't the right way feel like the wrong path
Is this the fallacy of sunk cost

Bridge:

Unable to accept
Unable to accept

CODA Chorus:

Who's the singer, the summer bug
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Content with its own love
Even if its something perhaps
Only he'll love

Who's the singer, the summer bug
Who's the singer, the summer bug
Content with its own love
Even if its something perhaps
Only he'll love
The Secret Lives of Sam Lampyris 2
Loosely Inspired By:
FABRE’S
BOOK OF INSECTS
RETOLD FROM ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS’
TRANSLATION of FABRE’S “SOUVENIRS ENTOMOLOGIQUES”
BY MRS. RODOLPH STAWELL


-------


Disclaimer:

Sam Lampyris is peeking through time from eternity. Sam Lampyris has all the time in the world. Sam Lampyris wants to know everything, Sam Lampyris wants to do everything, Sam Lampyris wants to write about everything. Sam Lampyris draws, Sam Lampyris paints, writes, learns, sings, thinks.
Sam Lampyris has many facets and many names, many interests and hobbies.
Sam Lampyris is PinkCircleLyrics,
He is Yisselakh.
He is Meynoher.
And more.
He is impulsive, and follows the ebbs and flow of his stream of consciousness faithfully.

All conscious directly inspired pastiche, homage, references, adaptation, and other derivative content will be noted, and any other similarities beyond this I can only attribute to subconscious influence, collective consciousness or unconscious, or pure coincidence.

Unlike previous works by Sam Lampyris under various pseudonyms, these works are less reactive and more proactive. This is to say that the previous poems and lyrics often sprung directly from my immediate reaction to things I have heard, listened to, read, seen or watched, and are usually much more authentic to my personal philosophy, be it intuitive or learned.

These, however, are more proactive in the sense that I voluntarily seek prompts and inspirations from books and other mediums I look to learn from and write with them in mind. I do this in order to fortify my understanding of them in my own preferred way.

However, during the writing process, my mind always, in some strange way, becomes locked in a track and I, again, seem to be always directed to follow my intuition. Thus, most of the works are non rhyming or rhyming free verses, as instead of writing with strict and consistent meters, it feels like my own being is forced to follow rhythm patterns that "feels right."

Thus, though I can't promise these thoughts are anything under the sun, in fact I can promise the exact opposite:

Ecclesiastes1:10 King James Version

"Is there any thing whereof it may be said, See, this is new? it hath been already of old time, which was before us."

I can promise these works are absolutely authentic to the entire being of Sam Lampyris, no matter what his name is at the time.
Sam Lampyris Sep 10
Date written: June 18, 2024
yisselakh@myyahoo.com

Sacred Beetle

By: Yisselakh

Intro:

The beetle climbs the wall of reality
Rolling the sun into place, into the sky of dreams

Verse:

So the beetle rolls around the Sun
Like in dust, our soul rolls around
And they say we're guided by the stars
Or is it our hearts
Or is it our hearts
Is it our hearts

Bridge:

Is this just poetry, is this just art
Is it really the truth of what we are
I'll never truly know
You'll never truly know
We'll never truly know

Pre-Chorus:

What the wise men say
The fools will never follow
If you say so if you say so
That's how they always go
That's how they always go

Chorus:

But when her heart of gold
Shines warmly on your mold
On countless fateful noons
Your heart and your soul
Your shell like sun upon the moon

Post-Chorus:

You'll know
You'll know
You'll know
And you'll believe
And you'll believe

CODA Verse:

So the beetle rolls around the Sun
Like in dust, our soul rolls around
Like they say we're guided by the stars
And all of our hearts
And all of our hearts
All of our hearts
The Secret Lives of Sam Lampyris 1
Loosely Inspired By:
FABRE’S
BOOK OF INSECTS
RETOLD FROM ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS’
TRANSLATION of FABRE’S “SOUVENIRS ENTOMOLOGIQUES”
BY MRS. RODOLPH STAWELL


-------


Disclaimer:

Sam Lampyris is peeking through time from eternity. Sam Lampyris has all the time in the world. Sam Lampyris wants to know everything, Sam Lampyris wants to do everything, Sam Lampyris wants to write about everything. Sam Lampyris draws, Sam Lampyris paints, writes, learns, sings, thinks.
Sam Lampyris has many facets and many names, many interests and hobbies.
Sam Lampyris is PinkCircleLyrics,
He is Yisselakh.
He is Meynoher.
And more.
He is impulsive, and follows the ebbs and flow of his stream of consciousness faithfully.

All conscious directly inspired pastiche, homage, references, adaptation, and other derivative content will be noted, and any other similarities beyond this I can only attribute to subconscious influence, collective consciousness or unconscious, or pure coincidence.

Unlike previous works by Sam Lampyris under various pseudonyms, these works are less reactive and more proactive. This is to say that the previous poems and lyrics often sprung directly from my immediate reaction to things I have heard, listened to, read, seen or watched, and are usually much more authentic to my personal philosophy, be it intuitive or learned.

These, however, are more proactive in the sense that I voluntarily seek prompts and inspirations from books and other mediums I look to learn from and write with them in mind. I do this in order to fortify my understanding of them in my own preferred way.

However, during the writing process, my mind always, in some strange way, becomes locked in a track and I, again, seem to be always directed to follow my intuition. Thus, most of the works are non rhyming or rhyming free verses, as instead of writing with strict and consistent meters, it feels like my own being is forced to follow rhythm patterns that "feels right."

Thus, though I can't promise these thoughts are anything under the sun, in fact I can promise the exact opposite:

Ecclesiastes1:10 King James Version

"Is there any thing whereof it may be said, See, this is new? it hath been already of old time, which was before us."

I can promise these works are absolutely authentic to the entire being of Sam Lampyris, no matter what his name is at the time.
I L U like my ***** clothes
Love being forgotten
On my bedroom floor

I L U like chores love the
music that helps them
forget they're chores

I L U like ***** dishes
Love hot showers and
the other side of the sink

I L U like I love spilling
Salt, and warding off the evil,
By tossing some behind my back

I L U like I love
Breaking rules about
my own supposed
non-Superstition

I L U like black cats love
Bad luck, cause to them,
It's just Friday, you know?

I L U like the hot dog bun
Loves staring at the beef patty,
Wishing "if only, if only"

I L U like bread loves
Being forgotten till we're really hungry
And then we're all ungrateful, like
"Hey bread, you remember us?"
And bread is high above us, like
"Always."
Not even a hint of scorn

I L U like the first time I saw
Jurassic Park, The dinosaurs
Were real enough
sans chicken feathers, and
Who needs modern science anyways
when love has no fossil records?

I L U like the weather loves
Surprise parties.
I L U like painful
surprise party memories love
being forgotten on my bedroom floor

I love you like Mayflies love living,
oh so briefly, once a day, every single day,
Chapter one to chapter none

I love you like mayflies love themselves,
brevity and all, stirred by nothing but
the glow of Dawn's light,
Dead by dusk, the Mayfly never
knows its final form.
It dies
in complete
incompletion,
but that's okay.

It drank the salt ocean,
it breathed the living air,
And that's how I want to L U
Mayflies are cool little buggers.
Arke Nov 2018
I write poetry when thoughts infect me
catching colloquy in a web to feast
my thorax alates pearlescent scales
I capture nectar from dewy books
***** waxy words that form in the back
of my throat in honeycomb shapes
they taste sweetest directly from my lips
until you notice six legs protruding
or ten eyes staring up at you in fear
the apex of my elytra is rainbow chrome
but all you see is a hardened shell
admittedly, all I've ever had is ability
to filiform syllables and sounds
dangle lexicon delicately from silk pages
in hopes of creating all the beauty
that I have never felt I possess in this form
Kurt Carman Apr 2016
Hard to believe it was 18 Years ago, 1998.
Waiting that long to make love is an unfortunate fate.

A July rain awakens the sleeping nymphs’,
Like old Rip Van Winkle, a yawn & stretch those limbs

Clawing their way out of an earthen cocoon,
Metamorphous begins by the light of the moon.

An electric buzz fills the West Virginia holler,
Charlie Cicada says “Connectin’ with them females is the problem”

And not long after… a loving relationship is bequeathed,
For the less fortunate, the brown trout waits beneath the Sycamore for a tasty treat.

Well there you have it; such is the life of the Brood Cicada,
And for new born nymphs’, it’s time to go sleep until the next Mania.

K.E. Carman 2016
Millions of minutely small scales
Cover its delicately sheer membrane.
refracting light scatters our sight
and only iridescent hues are seen.

— The End —