#fractal
Afore the storm of fractals wave,
Spinning alone beyond Colour’s grave;
For Black hath begun and Black hath began,
Every shade dull as the desert sand.
Until a light hath shone upon Nature’s back—
The Storm in formation is also Black;
A shame to the Senses where Cinnabar formed,
The Kaleidoscope shifting as Red is the lore;
Deep as the blood-pulse the colour runs rampant,
Rage and the Pain—and the Gain of the second—
Dulling away to a crimson swirl—
Red is the bloom of a putrid boil.
Till nary a tick is left to turn,
The Cylinder stops and the Eye is burned;
Not torn into sheets by geometric bustle,
Red bleeds to Black—the Void is a puzzle.
Black bleeds to Green—Nature’s emerald sheen,
Verdant growth rising—the Kaleidoscope seen.
Shifting of pieces paints a Viridian world,
The Earth but a canvas in rotational swirl.
For Beryl-streaks bleed betwixt geometric shapes,
With every flinch comes a gamble of Faith;
Till Darkness descends and the Green is struck mute,
Shadows collapse and the Memory is moot.
As the Great Mother claims the finality of turn,
Green bleeds to Black and the Nature-dream burns,
Replaced by the haunting of nightmare-glare,
Absent the Sun and the radiant air.
Azure-streaks wroth in the oceanic seas,
White-capped froth for the stimulating need;
Cerulean angels in Pythagorean angles,
A tangle betwixt the celestial metals
Which shine a cold Blue upon yonder shores,
Where every spin wheels the lines to adore.
A Lapis crown fading away to the Void,
Black again beckoning—the Spirit annoyed;
Cobalt-blued steel fading into the fray,
Blue bleeds to Black at the end of the day.
The Great Mother welding the Kaleidoscope scope—
Emptiness offering Her the only hope.
Gilded Ochre—a cemented facade,
The Yellow of Sun but a flickering nod
To the Day that is brighter than hollows of Night;
Saffron-gold bangles dangle in sight.
For bright is the colour that lights all below,
Brass-beams trimming the seams for the flow.
Beyond the light of the morning’s first rise,
A Sallow Centaur, godly in size;
As clouds begin filling the Firmament,
The lurid glare clicks in a simple contentment.
As Amber fills up the darkening horizon,
Yellow bleeds to Black on the back of a Diamond,
Whose facets shift with the weight of the Sin;
The Kaleidoscope echoes again and again.
Tyrian dyes stain the Emperor’s descent,
Imperial Purples dance with confident intent;
Where Power doth bask in a heritage pure,
Ametrine dreams highlight the cure.
A destiny deemed fully replete,
The colour of Gods—their honour to meet;
As the gears rotate and the moment shifts—
Once to a Caesar the Senate-grip slips.
Where Vitreous glass begins filling the senses,
Heliotropic visions form the Violet image;
As Purple bleeds Black and the Void is in sight,
An emptiness rivaling the blackest of Night.
Brought back to Center as the Cylinder clicks:
A Kaleidoscope of Power—every colour to mix.
Feb 15
Feb 15, 2026 at 4:40 PM UTC
When I look at a chess game,
I see the limits of Infinity.
Sep 1, 2025
Sep 1, 2025 at 4:16 AM UTC
Resist
to the one who builds a small house
and says: well I am here.
Resist the one who came home again
and says: Glory be to God.
Resist
on the Persian carpet of apartment buildings
to the short man in the office
in the company import - export
in public education
in the tax
to me still telling you.
Resist
to the one who greets from the podium for hours
endless parades
to this barren lady who shares
forms of saints Lebanon and myrrh
to me still telling you.
Resist all those who are called great again
to the President of the Court of Appeal resist
in music the drums and percussion
at all the talking conferences
counselors drink coffee
to all who write speeches about the time
next to the winter heater
in flattery the wishes in so many bows
from scribes and cowards for their wise leader.
Resist the services of foreigners
and passports
in the terrible flags of the states and diplomacy
in ammunition factories
to those who say nice words lyricism
in thurias
in sweet songs with lamentations
to the spectators
in the wind
to all the indifferent and the wise
to others who make your friend
as well as to me, to me still telling you
resist.
Then we can confidently move on to
Freedom.
Mar 16, 2021
Mar 16, 2021 at 3:58 PM UTC
As consistent as a snowflake,
Counting up from one to infinity.
Free falling through this endless shape,
Contained within a finite space.
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 5:49 PM UTC
Man, tripartite entity,
of earth, water and air,
of body, soul and spirit,
of proteins, cells and organs,
of families, tribes, and cities,
of Kings, Houses and Nations.
Man is a part and One,
A fractal entity of Unity.
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 12:28 AM UTC
I'm not a religious man
but god might be there
Depends on what you mean
and if you think he should care.
I'm not a religious man
But, man, this got me thinking
There really is a new beginning.
After a life. That is ending.
Your life is a wave
Of information and matter
The wave started rising long before
you ever saw your first mother -
I don't believe in reincarnation -
but you are a manifestation of all
past and present influences
past choices and events.
Not just by you. But by eons of elders
that doomed or blessed you to a life of specific circumstance
We are
genetic combinations interacting with nature
A wave. A continuum
Connecting one time to another
LIFE IS LIVING THROUGH US
Now that's a magical feeling.
We are but seasonal leaves on an ever-growing tree
A tree that’s stuck with existing
that's how it's going to be.
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 2:57 PM UTC
Your
Kaleidoscopic, heart
Sent
Fractals, spinning
My
World apart.
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 9:25 PM UTC
I. There exists only the Fractal.
II. The Fractal contains itself.
III. Everything else is derived.
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 5:50 PM UTC
With every breath
Every touch
Every thoughtfeelingdream
Joysorrow pain and healing
The map of our soul multiplies -
An infinite fractal reflection
Of the universal design
And we move further away
From simple answers
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 2:34 AM UTC
I sit atop a mountain and beneath a tree reveling in ecstasy as I gaze upon the divine.
It is here that God chose to experience itself. From the snow
dusted slopes, to the lightly coated trees, all is as it should be.
My eyes journey from the frozen water particles to the plant life struggling to keep its heat above a crystalline sea, and onward to the mist that enshrouds the mountain….I cannot help but stare in wonder at the spectacle of god presenting itself in its many fractal forms.
Solidified energy falls softly
in an attempt to build itself ever higher.
The transference of purity puts on a show for those souls with open eyes.
Above me is a comforting blanket of particles,
falling, crying out as they land
“I am!”
Emanating from the most minute pine leaf to the mountain itself arises a silent shout of existence. It is here that I may be at peace, with the ever present reminder that everything simply is. How would it be if a snowflake judged itself…would it be judged by its tumultuous formation? how conclusive it's landing? or the quality of its travels?
Nay, it forsakes judgement because its perfection is stated quite firmly
in the present moment. Here above the cities
and in the mountains it is cold.
Paradoxically, it is here where I am stripped bare and proclaim myself warm and free. Thank you life.
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 1:49 PM UTC
The tone is a human,
a human is a being,
and a being,
is a tone.
The tone is a being.
When one human sings,
they create a tone.
A tone that carries
all tones within.
When two humans sing,
they create two tones.
Two tones that carry
all tones within.
They are making love,
They are making a harmony,
and the harmony
is a child.
The union of two,
the child carries all
the vibrations of one,
and all of the other.
Every harmony carries
all harmonies within.
The child is one,
The child is twice one,
The child is half of each,
and infinitely more than none.
The harmony is a child,
and the child sings.
The child is human,
and the human grows.
When a human sings
they create a tone.
This tone carries
all tones within.
The tone is a being.
The being is one,
The being is twice one,
The being is half of each,
and infinitely more than none.
Each being carries all beings within.
When the being sings,
it creates a tone,
this tone carries
all tones within.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 7:27 PM UTC
Be as a kaleidoscope
and fractalize the mind.
Embrace the dichroic glass,
and break what limits bind.
Smoother than a marble egg,
yet tempered more than brass,
bemuse yourself entirely
with Millefiori glass.
For in its mystic ampule
birefringent voices dance,
and visions come together
should time befit the chance.
No turn, nor shake, nor twist
can break its hallowed grace.
Acknowledge its diversity
and revel in azoth space.
Its symmetry is blithe at times,
yet stunning through and through,
and dashing through its mirrored hall,
the light shall come to you.
There is beauty in a beam of light.
Caress its warmth and hope.
How wondrous still that beauty grows
with a simple kaleidoscope.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
It's been a time and a half
And I finally understand
The reason you've gone
With the shaman so long.
The spirit is free.
I'm a color
Splintered in three.
Crystalline
Crystal eyes
Well spoken with diction.
Many a words I've spoken
Have been in ode
Romancing you with every breath
In the desert
The door is ajar
We trace the steps of Aztec gods
1/3 becomes 2/4
The sands gleam emerald
Our bodies elongate to equine form
We blended the horizon line
Quetzalcoatl stands before me
Serpent in feathers
Glows like the spectrum all together.
He hands me a seed.
And his
Eyes smother like lightning.
And I
Speak in codexed volition.
And we
Blur the horizon line once more.
I stand on the Pacific
20,000 leagues
Equine force
Carries me to the beach.
Sand once more.
I feel a twitch in my jaw.
Each hand holds a mandible
And pulls.
Roots emerge
And a tree not soon after.
Is this what the seed was for?
I trot the beach,
Jaw no longer in tact.
My pallor flesh caked in coagulate
Almost recreates my tan skin
A gift from the god.
I've been on this beach for miles,
And
Miles
And
Two whiles.
My architecture meanders
The brevity of sanity.
One eye sees black,
The other sees fine.
My hair has become matted
It knots behind each earlobe
And drags on below my knees.
Is this what Quetzalcoatl wanted?
To see me sifted with the grains of sand
In the palm of a child's hand
At the beach
While on vacation
With mom and dad?
20,000 years have passed.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC