"aether" poems
You are a leader ship
how I know this?
cause I'm a leader ship too
I can see the sinuous fibre of your very being
take a look
I bet you can see it too
we are borne of the earth and the stars
borne in the wind
there are four cardinal directions, N E S W, do not forget about the intermediary
be an intermediary ~ who wants to be a cardinal?
we need our leader ships following their own true north
2D - 3D -- 4D --- 5D ---------------------------- >
following the wormholes ... the aether
following certain signs and symbols
trust in divine feminine ... .. . .. ... masculine divine in trust
trust in masculine divine ... .. . .. ... divine feminine in trust
" 'It's all this!' He wrapped his finger in his fist; the car hugged the line straight and true." ~ Kerouac
Ship builders choose their timber mindfully
Be mindful with your archetypes, Noah!
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
Flora and Fauna, the sisters of Season
Of Spring and of Summer
Allow now our drummer
To drum out the beat
For the feet of the sisters
To glide and to creep
Like the encroaching sleep
Which may perch on your shoulder if we cannot keep you awake
And on the edge of your seat, sir.
Now the former, sweet Flora, will finger the flute
While the other continues to glide and to slide
Like a sequined Venetian harlequin bride;
And now Fauna will mimic the movements of bird and of beast
As she graces the work of our landscape artiste
And all is completely unfeasible
Completely lacks reason
We guarantee.
Presently
In the eye of the beholder
Sweet Flora seemingly draws from the aether a lyre
And with flourishing fingers she plucks from the heavens
A song of the seasons, a pagan ode to Pan!
Behold! No aid of hoops, no strings
The vestal-virgin-harlot sisters sing
Of beautiful Persephone
And with unseen damselfly wings
Ascend from mediocrity
All melody forgotten
All the drums create cacophony
And you will find serenity in chaotic monotony
Now let this climaxing crescendo banish all your sorrowing!
No more that light; no more that sacred realm
Life’s door was dappled gloam; now all is black.
A man of wax with saintly, hollow eyes
Devoid of sin, devoid of love and light
That golden room is lost – you can’t turn back.
Now love has lost its lustre - lust lost joy
And coy eyes turn to watch the empty man
Struck by eternal beauty, and condemned
To haunt the broken world of mortal men;
And shrilling wind caresses empty hand.
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 12:01 PM UTC
but have you noticed, have you noticed how all mental health problems
stem form a seemingly aether virus that attacks the pronoun category;
i mean with proper justifiable schizoids you will not hear of the nouns
being ransacked for an equation that equates itself to misnomers;
it's all categorised negation of ease within the framework of pronouns.
it's strange that philosophers stress the pronouns so much these days
and those countless prior, but why do mental health diseases
attack the pronouns and not the nouns? they attack the verbs
thoroughly, but prior to the verbs exposing an illness
the pronouns are attacked, so that many considering the singularity
of expressing thought are ill because of being forced into a plural expression
of thought: "voices." i find it hard to understand, but it's the reality,
the aether virus attacks the pronoun
on the backdrop of a king's casual expression / use
of pronouns, when a king casually says
of himself as omni or multi with one and we respectively;
so why are pronouns so weak and nouns so strong
that a tree cannot be a misnomer attaché of timber
and rock not a pillar, or mountain as the verb: mountaineering?
the pronoun category is weak from day one,
because it suggests photographic duck animation on the lip pursed
into a quack quack, but if we constructed thought
without knowledge prior, eating the fruit of knowledge
rather than the fruit of thought, using the starting point
of the genesis metaphor, it's sometimes a no brainer
to have weak thinking and strength in knowing,
for if there was strength in thinking and weakness in knowing,
i'd be the one chiseling these words in the ice age on a cavern wall.
so, given, that diseases such as the famed premature dementia
attack the pronouns but not the nouns the schizoid one
will convene life with: pizza is pizza and sunshine ray down the drain
clock the millionth dead parting of grasshoppers in decimals -
while man unto man lusts one man's parting in decimals,
but should dire said, part man with integers, and insects with decimals!
but still, in the terminology of a cartesian understanding of illness,
in that segregational aspect of things "sorted,"
why are mental illnesses tattooed in a weak pronoun usage
compared to a strength in other grammatical categories?
why are not mental illnesses ******* the life out of the nouns?
the nouns are intact, the pronouns attacked,
and the verbs chess piece the pawn from the casually speaking clown king
into a beast imprisoned, for while the pronouns are attacked
and the nouns left intact, the attack on pronouns expresses itself
fully in verbs of the never existent tact: with such magic
as to claim knock knock on plank is the same as knock knock on veneer.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
VIII. TO ARES (17 lines)
(ll. 1-17) Ares, exceeding in strength, chariot-rider, golden-
helmed, doughty in heart, shield-bearer, Saviour of cities,
harnessed in bronze, strong of arm, unwearying, mighty with the
spear, O defence of Olympus, father of warlike Victory, ally of
Themis, stern governor of the rebellious, leader of righteous
men, sceptred King of manliness, who whirl your fiery sphere
among the planets in their sevenfold courses through the aether
wherein your blazing steeds ever bear you above the third
firmament of heaven; hear me, helper of men, giver of dauntless
youth! Shed down a kindly ray from above upon my life, and
strength of war, that I may be able to drive away bitter
cowardice from my head and crush down the deceitful impulses of
my soul. Restrain also the keen fury of my heart which provokes
me to tread the ways of blood-curdling strife. Rather, O blessed
one, give you me boldness to abide within the harmless laws of
peace, avoiding strife and hatred and the violent fiends of
death.
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PROMETHEUS (alone)
O holy Aether, and swift-winged Winds,
And River-wells, and laughter innumerous
Of yon Sea-waves! Earth, mother of us all,
And all-viewing cyclic Sun, I cry on you,--
Behold me a god, what I endure from gods!
Behold, with throe on throe,
How, wasted by this woe,
I wrestle down the myriad years of Time!
Behold, how fast around me
The new King of the happy ones sublime
Has flung the chain he forged, has shamed and bound me!
Woe, woe! to-day's woe and the coming morrow's
I cover with one groan. And where is found me
A limit to these sorrows?
And yet what word do I say? I have foreknown
Clearly all things that should be; nothing done
Comes sudden to my soul--and I must bear
What is ordained with patience, being aware
Necessity doth front the universe
With an invincible gesture. Yet this curse
Which strikes me now, I find it hard to brave
In silence or in speech. Because I gave
Honor to mortals, I have yoked my soul
To this compelling fate. Because I stole
The secret fount of fire, whose bubbles went
Over the ferrule's brim, and manward sent
Art's mighty means and perfect rudiment,
That sin I expiate in this agony,
Hung here in fetters, 'neath the blanching sky.
Ah, ah me! what a sound,
What a fragrance sweeps up from a pinion unseen
Of a god, or a mortal, or nature between,
Sweeping up to this rock where the earth has her bound,
To have sight of my pangs, or some guerdon obtain--
Lo, a god in the anguish, a god in the chain!
The god Zeus hateth sore,
And his gods hate again,
As many as tread on his glorified floor,
Because I loved mortals too much evermore.
Alas me! what a murmur and motion I hear,
As of birds flying near!
And the air undersings
The light stroke of their wings--
And all life that approaches I wait for in fear.
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Here be dragons all old maps say
Here be dragons: beware, go'way
Noble knights and brave crusaders:
All steer clear and take detour
But whose to say these fearsome beasts
These terrible monsters of lore,
Who declared that these gentle giants
Live only to create gore
They may be misspoken for
And probably misunderstood
They could be timid gentile folk
Who dine on aether and fish
But nevermind the possibilities
Here be dragons: go'way, beware
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 5:22 PM UTC
A body and soul stretched to extremes
Yin and yang
The most and least of both worlds
Opposite sides of the coin
Cleansing and pure
Tainting and pitch
Light and dark
Of the purest white
And the most tainted black
Earth and air and fire and water and aether
Sun and rain
The brightest and hottest fires of sun
Beating and firing heat from the bottomless flames of hell
Breaking into a cold sweat without cease
The flaming evil of health
Rain and sun
The darkest and iciest rain of clouds
Pouring and drenching from the endless pools of heaven
Chilling into a cleansing soak never long enough
The freezing good of pain
The contradictions, the back and forth
The intelligent confusion
The stupid direction
The leather and biker tough guy
The shy and bookish sweet girl
The false realities and true lies
Love in strangers and indifference in close friends
Hope in troubled times and loss in peaceful
Banding together the unlikelies
Separating the probabilities
Pain in love and happiness
Contentment in fear and despair
The sound of one hand clapping.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:07 PM UTC
What are these bands around your wrists
These frayed stories that barely cling?
And what are these enchantments held
That cradle your touch between each ring?
And what is this ancient writing here
That’s inked from shops of yester-year?
Is there a relic about you yet
That makes your brackish past run clear?
What is that place your eye seeks out
When your steady gaze is aether-bound?
And what steep truths have you traversed
To gather poise as you have found?
What shadows passing now have stayed
And fears upon tanned shoulder weighed?
Can mysteries be unraveled here
That in your piercing focus played?
Oh wandering mystery mountain man,
Oh sweet conundrum of my dreams,
Oh distant altruistic love,
Oh ponderer of whispering streams,
Wherefore do the stars yet speak
So I can hear their secret calls,
But ever in their praises keep
Your hidden name in cosmic halls?
Yes, to my ears they murmur deep
The stain-ed truths of earth and sky
But never leaks that hopeful peep;
Verisimilitude is shy.
Forever my enigma: you.
The heavens sagely made it so.
For I have solved the their secrets through,
But so much in you left to know.
Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 6:56 PM UTC
Singing on the roof tops
dancing with the owls
preying on the ocean
wandering through the comets
soul by soul we devoured
plagiarising every thought
typhoons and their memories
pummelling every heartbeat
Choppy moments
And finding secrets
Blending on the side walks
chasing the tail of Mars
leaping from the aether
coughing up the stars
rain of rain we let roar
sipping every shadow
deserts and their reveries
pummelling every heartbeat
Colder summers
And clearing skies
Poems on the sunset
obelisks on the edge
triremes in the universe
clocks in our heads
hell by hell we traversed
loving every essence
clusters and their eulogies
pummelling every heartbeat
Changing meadows
And healing wakes
We watched the cows graze.
Sep 1, 2012
Sep 1, 2012 at 11:11 AM UTC
An orange-rose halo suffused
the eastern horizon
like the birth of a fresh new world.
Our celestial furnace, still veiled
beyond the eastern edge,
lent its glow to the bright silver disk
still hovering in the western sky.
In the chill still of an autumn morn
where yesterday greets tomorrow,
a sermon wrought of science and spirit
whispered through the aether,
"All is hope.
All is promise.
All is awakening,"
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 5:22 AM UTC
I, naive
I believed that the break in the clouds
Was the end of rain
Thought those rays of sun weren't burning
I was lying
Myself in the grass,
Asking if the tulip chutes in Anatolia
Were the same sinking green I feel now
Where were we?
Love for a thousand spaces and bottling them into skins
Wanted to touch and know deeply all beautiful things
No you're not allowed, they don't want to let you in
That way, it's a distant place and means too much to understand
The biological and irrational
Crazed, sweeps gregarity above and within an aether-- like milky foam upon the waves
When I return home from excursions
I will be Ipanema
The soft locale, unabashed and known to no soul
Except empty elevators--
The lowly philosopher-king
Maybe then you'll think highly of me
Through the mixed feelings
Unable to handle
Straight through the socket
Ring of fire
Then and only then will you realize
That real life
Is more than just a zone or some local
Brewery on a Friday night
And every other Friday night
Ever thereafter--
You'll unlock the box of atomic intention
And listen deeply to her on the station
"Sade and Other Like Hits"
Slowed down for full potential
Letting your cochlea stroke themselves off to the tune of the universe
And the sound of air moving indiscriminately
Will give you
All this
Somewhere
almost fractal, imbibed
Decimated repetitively
There is a fragment of my voice,
Calling
"Love, how much I'd love to be. "
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 2:22 PM UTC
I was around fifteen
when I first imagined
myself as your husband
and I distinctly remember
Laughing and tearing up,
just a little,
because I didn’t think it
was possible
for someone like you
to love someone like me.
I did not know how to love...
but there we were
genuinely happy
and in love,
adrift in the aether of
my teenage imagination,
your face was hidden from me.
I return the comfort
of that fantasy and
conjure scenes of our life together.
Spending time with you
comforts me and gives me peace.
Wherever you are, please
know that I love you
and that I am looking for you.
Darling, you are literally my fantasy
and I will not rest until
our love is our reality.
I cannot wait to meet you.
Have a great day, Love.
I can’t wait to hear about it!
Yours.
Always.
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 4:21 PM UTC
I want to write a poem
but I have to write code instead
There can be a kind of poetry in code
especially my code
I'm proud of the elegant design
of my loops and logics
my streamlined systems
My code flows
pulling the User along effortlessly
guiding them gracefully from one end of the black box to the other
and out again
No Errors
My code flows
secret haikus left in comment blocks
for other programmers to find
like digital hieroglyphics on virtual cave walls
test data populated with pantheons and
mystical chants from faraway lands
My code flows
water of ones
in sea of zeroes
pouring through me
from aether to mind to muscle to machine
bit by bit
block by block
stacked upon stack
module into module through function and parameters passed
My code flows
flows through me
until the integer flips
the Boolean switch
change of state
status update
now compiled and crystallized
Executable
and then passed on
leaving me
out of my hands
disseminated to The Users
like a prayer to a congregation
I hear the clicking fingers of their choir
singing the song of my code
now flowing through Them
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 4:50 PM UTC
The words they slept in shadows,
Unspoken in the night.
When a hand reached forth
With nightshade blade,
To poison anothers plight.
Sweet dreams,
Oh Lord of Lamentations.
Let the aether surround
With reams of false augmentation.
For the sick and the weak
Those we ignore and mistreat
Are no longer eight hours away.
Empires will fall
While we rest and decay
Cerebrally enslaved
To the light of day.
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 8:35 AM UTC
Is a realm where alchemy is alive and well
It resides in the aether making it difficult to envision
A place of dreams but if you are imaginative
There is also structure
Dreams without structure are just whispers of nothingness
Quickly dissipating
Without structure, dreams quickly fold back into the aether
Waiting for a less superfluous re-imagination
To make it on the physical plane, there must be roots
When dreams are infused with structure, roots can be found
There is potential that those dreams can wake up
When the dreams are provided with structure and
Are re-animated with function
Then we have a breath of life
Structure and function are what allows Us
To step out of dreamtime and into reality
To find the roots of that architecture you must have vision
Not see with your eyes vision, but a different type
This framework hasn’t always existed
Relations have created it
That’s why it’s recognizable
The framework are the laws, both natural and synthetic
It’s the place where duality and non-duality collide
It’s a place of transcendence
A place of truth
Maybe we can learn to see holistically here
Anisotropica has many functions
It’s art and science fused
It’s poetry and song and dance
And mathematics and physics and chemistry
It is an expression of sacred geometry
An amalgamation of binary and analog
The fusion of dreams and laws
Creates a space that can be mined for transcendence
A place where we can extend past many current limitations
It's a springboard to become who you are
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC
*He is
My Azure Dreambird,
(The Sovereign of Songbirds)
That soars upon
Skies of Resonance.
His sapphire wings
Weightless by valor,
Hallowed every doubt
That
Cursed my shadow
Until credence reigned.
He is
The Musicality of my Soul,
That I climbed as
A stairway
Into
Gates of Aether
Upon
Porcelain keys
Of an impearled
Grand Piano.
His sound emittance
Ascended in frequency until
Pitch became subliminal
For height
ceased to be
Height,
And depth,
Ceased to be
Depth,
It was
Ineffable harmony
And resolution became effortless
With
The touch of his hand.
He is
The Wings of the Dawn,
A Sweeping Rapture
That raised
Me
Beyond the stratosphere
Until graced by
Untarnished embrace
Of the Baptistery of the Sun.
I burst
From Light’s Intemerate Womb,
Renewed and
Gazed upon Terraqueous Gaia
Then for once,
(Yes, for all eternity)
Succumbed to
Faith in the Transcendence
Of his tender affections.
Woe was existence
Before His lightwaves radiated
Within my heart,
For when I purged my pulse
Of that quaking rhythm
And
Hollow cries
Upon his ears,
He stood moved
And remained
Doughty in his devotion
To me.
In that moment
I fathomed his soul
Glistened
O, for he had not forsook me.
I bear a pilgrimage.
One sought to be
Heard,
Seen,
Felt,
Breathed,
And
Divined
By my
Once
Somnolent spirit
Been
Roused
By the incendiary thew of
His ardor.
My revenant soul
Hath emerged from
The Chrysalis of Time as
The Apotheosis of Astral Flame
(A Reverberation of the Cosmo-Plexus of Love)
That since
The Days of Time Immemorial
Guided by the
Whisper of the stars,
I now cleave
To that celestial susurrus:
To the solace buried beneath
The Soil of Afflicition
(For anguish was all I knew)
In repose
Yet yearning to be
Resurrected
In The Dream of Acquisition,
To for eternity behold
The timeless fervor
That doth layeth
In His heart*
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 11:52 AM UTC
*chosen child for nature's creativity
tangoing to the sway of twilight trees
such spiritually sensual sensibilities
hypersensitivity heightening passion
life intensified in intellectual interest
love embellished with emotional empathy
oh, to bottle her elusive essence
to drink in her wistful nights
to infuse my tea with her promise
to scent my pillow with her dreams
uncork the atmospheric aroma
of sepia tinged crescents
wafting in celestial patisseries
sweeten the clear blue skies
with mists of crystallized honey
perfuming the divine aether
oh, fill my breath with her ephemeral
synchronize my life's pulse to the
metronome ponytails of skipping girls
followed by the tails of wagging dogs*
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
♀︎♀︎♀︎
Tornadoes, floods, earthquakes & wildfires.
Welcome to the four classical elements, &
you probably thought they were quaint old
concepts from a dated, medieval antiquity.
The fifth element, Ether [Akashic Record];
Woman is puberty, ************ childbirth,
& menopause & fifthly, clitoral ****** hm
♀︎♀︎♀︎
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 3:09 PM UTC
there are branches fingers of a dead will tendrils waving into a roaring white nothing wine into milk declaring themselves trying to make their realness known but reaching further into nothing and pin pricking out of the air texture to nothing like stained glass on a cage it gave us like in the beginning was the word and the word was like pretending there is an aether and they guard it and if I race through their gaps
Wake in nothing.
Put on my debris.
Cup my hand to The Sun.
Sit in a stone room and touch myself.
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 7:04 PM UTC
YOUR eyes were gem-like in that dim deep chamber
Hushed and sombre with imprisoned fire,
With yellow ghostly globes of intense aether
Potent as the rays of pure desire.
Your voice was startled into vivid wonder,
When the winged wild whining mystic wheel
Took flight and shot the dark with frosty crashings
Like an ice-berg splitting to the keel.
Your flesh was never warmer to my passion
Than when, moving in that lumor green,
We saw with eyes our fragile bones enamoured
Clasping sadly on the pallid screen.
You seemed so virginal and so undreaming
Of the burning hunger in my eyes,
To peer more fever-deeply in your being
Than the very death of passion lies.
The subtle-tuned shy motions of your spirit,
Fashioned through the ages for the sun,
Were dumb in that green lustre-haunted cavern
Where you walked a naked skeleton;
Slim-hipped and fluent and of lovely motion,
Living to the tip of every bone,
And ah, too exquisitely vivid-moving
Ever to lie wanly down alone--
To lie forever down so still and slender,
Tracing on the ancient screen of night
That naked and pale writing of the wonder
Of your beauty breathing in the light.
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^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^^^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
{[a parachute of words to soften death
(the impact governed by an ancient rule)]
for falling slower, to allow the gaze to linger
on a beingscape of prophets, sages, and of fools,
to entertain a fantasy, a whim
or a kernal sign of epistemic limn}:
\| /
feline-dolphin friendliness to bring,
to sing of paws and fins, to fashion songs..
cut playful, caring, interspecies lens.
sprouting karmic stems at every step
with toe-gems on a koan-grounded path
on which the memories of art abound--
to measure wrath, to nard with wisdom salves
the holon vast of intra-earthling givenness
and arm the doom'ed nous with lethe-wards:
a Helm of melodies to dim the sound
of nether-chords in taunting reaper's lure;
pantheonic Plate to temper tangent blows
of glowing smoulders, darkest passion throws;
Wings of flame in kind caressing pleasure
licking high incurvate spinal moan... alone...
the tone is sure, for underworldly psalm
and biding sweep of time, aeon after aeon, eternal bone on bone,
in gales of fated nescience, the moment dawns
careening, skirrs my aether-self of lighted
purpose drawn, and telic web of wanings on...
_
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 11:32 PM UTC
woot for when i feel you understand
woot for private mysteries of only being me and you
woot for games of lashing raw and scintillating *** in discord's after-thaw
woot for being true
for lies so old they utter love in corners never new.
woot for google's Timbuktu and Timbuctoo and Timbuktoo
woot for w00t
for chasing names into an aether sigh of history
forming castles in the mind,
stonewalling issues to the end of time
woot for fruit.
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 12:16 PM UTC
Mist clouds forming on my skin
I dye my mind in thin formations
soft sentient siblings aviate my fingers
frost lit prisms projecting visions that I relate to
chromatic distillation fancying the minds eye
dark transient beings no longer apply
dispersing and spilling into stretches of time
Aether, Aether, help me climb.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
a pale neurology
within
pale iron gates
painted in pallid shades
of steel, gold and myrrh.
locked within recursive delusions of grandeur
like granite, horizontal and brittle
snapping within their multiplicities
lost within blindness' entangled waves.
drowning at the cusps of its own banality:
vacant plasticity
homeomorphic sludge
betraying nothing
of the mystified real
but an idempotent of
projected projections,
of a recursively flickering reel,
an echo-chamber,
of pale
gated communities.
aether.
flesh.
bronze.
iron.
silver.
gold.
gold.
ink.
(tape)
flesh.
silicon.
pale.
pale.
ether,
aether
(void)
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 7:57 AM UTC
Atlas wept for the world above
And for the burden that he bears.
A weight waylaid by mortal love,
A weight made heavy by despair.
Shoulders burning on aether shores
Orchestral spheres fall into view.
Conducted celestial tears,
Run glacial currents of blue...
And Red.
Always Red,
This knight of that crimson hue
Forgot the purpose of his charge,
Cast off all the burdens that he knew.
Sadly,
That includes me and you.
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 7:06 PM UTC