"amplification" poems
…thus riding on a memory-bicycle those people who used to go to pick up dry straws, grasses, twigs from the daily-wage of the squirrels are neither the husband of any wood nor the wife of any wood-apple … at the best they may be one page full of must-dos regarding keep-fit practice of one’s health…
around the grazing field of the night-gowns
in course of a long-journey by train one has to cross
so many grass-hopper-points
one-piece of life is this
in its daily hopping to pick up the pebbles of
which is the amplification of what
the bodies of all prose and poems are touched with
by the sunshine… by the wind… by the rain…by the water
it-may-be-for-you afternoon
is running
running
is the people after the office-break
running are the broken people
the sullen public
due to late-running of train
before the darkness sets in
on bare branches of the tree
clusters of crows
are running
forward steps of the return-home people
are running
many invitations has been remained
unattended … accumulating…
accumulating…
so much anger… many secret pains… tears…
the life is running
in the rows of the flying birds
the life is running
in the meat-houses…
in the shopping-malls…
in the churches…
in the wheat-fields…
running … running … running…
salad poetry and salsa-dance
are also running…
in the letters of the alphabet…
in the swarm of mosquitoes…
from William Shakespeare
to Rabindranath Thakur
the sky is running …
the air…
the sunlight…
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 6:47 AM UTC
Aural sounds of delectation
funk-fuel in fervent distillation
undertones of jazz-swing in migration
electronic clicks and blips for relaxation
ambience is my one true occupation.
The resonance of sound in rotation
the initiation itself a radiation
morphological alternation in isolation
as the hubbub of voices echo respiration
breath in, breath out, in elevation.
No underlying obligation, only inspiration
and celebration of collaboration
revel in the pleasures of sensation
like the first discovery of amplification
and in its appreciation and stimulation
embrace variation in all its illumination.
Seek out new music from recommendation
the gravitation towards transformation
the re-education and regeneration
this musical manifestation of civilisation
saturated in complex contemplation
adoration in meditation
the simplest form of gratification
the creative urge for diversification
and technological intensity
of electronic experimentation.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 7:26 AM UTC
Give it all you got
Only option left to choose
Tip your cap
Turn your back
Throw up that deuce
But, who woulda knew
That clarity of concentration
Comes from unexpected deviations
From our anticipations
Suddenly
Shipwrecked
Lost at sea
Starin at that deep blue green
Like, it's just you,
And me
And we are the masters behind these sails
When our stories told
It'll be the stuff of fairy tales
The true master misses miserably alot
What matters most is
We take all our shots
So this is my position
Listen up
I don't give a ****
About you *****
Who don't give a ****
You on the sidelines of the game
What's it gonna take for you to lace em
And step it up?
I see you suckers pacin'
Over self-made situations
Like destiny isn't something we participate in
But what if we switch stations
Movin' makin'
Anxious Amplification
Got that body breakin'
Beats to shuffle strutin' feet and
Our music's the motivation
Our life, our part
Art over every evocation
Trumpets triumphantly proclaim the pontification
Sifting, shifting the breeze
The time, they are a' changin'
The rhythms's exquisite equations
Derivative of internal escavated wisdoms
Whimsical inquisitive exploration
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 6:58 AM UTC
What can I confess? I love her and that will never change.
I've tried. Nothing works. There is no way to push it out.
It will not be defeated. It is an unbeatable love. An immovable force.
It will not be controlled, it cannot be told where to go.
It simply is, and will never cease to be.
Rest cannot be obtained by mere sleep.
Refuge is a distant memory.
Your steps become nothing more than the distance between you and her.
Everything is her. Nothing is not about her.
Laughter is only a reminder of the type of innocent happiness you feel
When she's standing next to you.
Smiling faces are always a prelude to the glowing memory of hers.
No thought is had that isn't in some way connected to her.
The sun seems dim in comparison to the fire this love embodies.
It is otherworldly. It is unfathomable.
It is that brightness which cannot be perceived with the eyes or
Conceived in the body, but merely felt with the soul.
You see it more clearly through the amplification of tears,
Behind the cracks of the heart.
You work. You play. You sleep. You eat.
And nothing fulfills. Nothing satisfies the soul.
Your future is behind you.
And she stands there, grinning, waiting on you to remember her, reminding you to forget.
But I will not give up on her. It is not in me to let go of this love.
Our destiny is written in the stars. Our happy ending imprinted in my heart.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 7:22 PM UTC
silence
sweet silence
like none other
despite the library door
slamming everytime
someone leaves or arrives
it seems to slam louder
when they leave
i am not perturbed
or distracted, nor am i
expecting not to be
here, alone, surrounded by books,
i just am
lamenting this place not being
as busy
as it should be
who’s fault is that?
celebrating this place not being
as busy
as it should be
guilty as charged
all these faces i see
it’s like a small town here
sometimes abandoned
sometimes inhabited
once again,
i don’t care
how can i?
my head, full of
Aurelius and Bukowski
doesn’t have space to
well, deep down,
i guess i do care
but not as much as
i suppose society begs i
should
how can i?
i’m too busy figuring out
who i truly am
and the books help, Bukowski
was correct, these philosophers are
like brothers to me and i speculate
my deep “connection” to them
to men whom i never met
yet felt more fatherly care from
than my own
maybe that’s the root
sometimes, all this reading begs the question
do i like books
more than people?
or people more
than books?
i think i know the answer,
eureka!
i love books, and individuals alike
i don’t like people
especially when they group up
in congregations and crowds,
strangers in a
can of sardines
with no space to possibly
ever care
only to survive and barely breathe
or to escape such a reality
how could i?
when they don’t
even care for themselves
it’s disheartening, really
to witness such potential
in one soul
and watch it *******
melt away
around his or her friends
around their families’
incessant influence and needs
abusing providers
consumed by their personal troubles and struggles
and vices, infected by the amplification of
a hang out
girls night
boys night
the clubs, the bars
the gossips of nonsense and ****
that simply isn’t their business
sewage
their obvious and yet
radiantly painful,
like a sunburn that isn’t on you
but hurts to look at on someone else,
avoidance of themselves
begging the following:
could these souls spend
an hour, alone, with a book
and paper and pencil?
how could they?
they’d like to, i’m sure,
but hate themselves just enough
to not be able to.
-melancholicreator
Feb 27, 2024
Feb 27, 2024 at 4:30 PM UTC
its not filthy
its just unappealing
its just the grooves
the places between the melody
that desperately need a cleaning
the tune no longer resonates
the tone dull
and crackly
its has nothing to do with
amplification
or projection
its the source material that fails me
im no good at this
at a loss for tools
which could make completely clear
the soaring voice that is love
impassioned and dedicated
but they are contained
within the outmoded technology
wax or vinyl
it could be
though
that my table is just on the fritz
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 5:57 PM UTC
for mine own Yocum
<>
a strange parting shot,
that we are are the refuse
upon this island Earth,
the very last item on some being's
weekly grocery list,
a list composed 'illions of years ago,
of things that could be worthy of
"creating"
this thought sticks to my soul,
like a rosé pink colored
NYC street'd, well chewed,
gum piece
adheres to my sole
the musical companion to this ecrivez,
a sinfonia for strings politely begs to differ,
while a hard covered book
dances me over to Texas,
Dudamel conducts Barber,
all making the question of
man as an afterthought
in a divine master plan for a planet,
seems almost recklessly absurdly nonsensical
then
my cell buzzes me back to this
******** hell earth
seven more cops shot, three dead
down in the bayou of Baton Rouge,
on a sabbath Sunday morning
rouge red now assumes,
takes on a different
notation colorations,
to my bleeding eyes,
delivering importations
of headaches confusion rampage,
red rage
the amplification of the worst of we,
afterthought creatures surely,
why "create a destroyer,"
an absurd contradictory term,
so we are gift wrapped
beneath the misleading approbation -
human
there is no nobility in our savagery,
or dare I sneer and say,
in our humanity
you cannot seal a wound with music
you cannot revive the dead with a poem ear-whispered
sitting beneath the tree shade
of my privileged place,
my surrounding world is
bay blue and grass green,
my vision myopic,
I am a self-centered,
microscopic collection of red cells
conceding to you Sargeant,
this designer of the human form,
who wrought it from
soiled earth and excess rib bone,
had a peculiar sense of humor,
a comedian full of
malice aforethought,
for are we not
the final joke,
for someone's bemusement
we must have come last,
because you always
want to leave them
laughing
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 6:36 PM UTC
in that pounding rush,
that blinding flash,
you hushed the world
into surrounding silence.
as if all the light inside me
found amplification in you
and i found in you
something that was the same shape and sound
of the emptiness in my arms
that resides in the darkness
of countless sleepless nights.
i search everywhere for just a glimpse of you,
each passing glance small respite
to slake my ever thirsty eyes
as my hands itch to tangle themselves in your hair
and feel the softness of your lips with my own
Oct 13, 2010
Oct 13, 2010 at 2:10 AM UTC
Hard pang of metal
louder than my
brittle ears can withstand.
Hard ping of wonder
sent, malicious,
from hidden wonderlands.
Cleave
my warm limbs from me.
Rip
my innards from me.
Substitute synthetic
amplification
for my
basic
weakness.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 11:45 PM UTC
Sparks fly as swords clash
Fire smolders into ash
Lights extinguishing
Hopes diminishing
Men giving in to desperation
It provides amplification
With their backs pushed against the wall
They will give it there all
Hope withers in their eyes
As they are strangled by an expansive web of lies
Its a rich man's war but a poor man's fight
May 11, 2012
May 11, 2012 at 5:35 PM UTC
Volcanic destruction. 2 words
A volcano destroys the citadel. 5 words
A tiny volcano destroy the movie-set citadel look-alike 10 words
A paper machet volcano spurts water and melts the miniature ice-city for a home movie 15 words
Did i amplify or detract?
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 5:40 PM UTC
Constant chaos in a single mind
Massive noises and disordered voices
Cloudy, dark, misty thoughts
Filled into a weakened being
Screams of tension
Shouts for help
Listen to their breaths
Feed them profusely with negativity
Hear their every...
SCREAM
SHOUT
ESCALATION
AMPLIFICATION
AMPLIFY..
US!
*Just then
He held her close
Whispered softly
Gently...
Carefully...
And she breathed with ease..
For his love roared louder than her demons*
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 9:11 AM UTC
Artificial stimulation zapping all imagination
Any creation or sensation lost in a noise of falsification
Cry to the nation so the population will rejoice with elation
That it is time to remove the isolation caused by the simulation
Simulation of free vocal amplification
Illusion and contagion of the authority’s rules and regulation
Solidification of these false ideals and therefore separation
From should be and what is- it’s horrification
The consumer’s attention faces new redirection
Guided meticulously by the producer’s invention
So our ‘choices’ aren’t choices but some chaos prevention
An anarchy intervention
An eluded operation executed by the organizations
A silent one sided war already won by associations, corporations and cooperations'
Verifications of strict policies and legislation
Followed of course by a strong litigation
What a celebration!
For select thoughts and their determination
Then the glorification
Of these upper class suits with some reputation
The voice of the people silenced with their unification
Stifling imagination
Essentially middle and lower robbed of vocalization
De-individualization, crumble fortication
Fine, its come down to this expectation
Of this twisted experimentation of freedom and selection
We’ll Bind together to form a protection of creativity, originality and our own perfection
So let us make this correction:
The one sided war is short lived and our individual minds will prevail, there is no question
For the minority majority will make a distinction
Between the choices given to us and our choices made with intention
Apr 15, 2011
Apr 15, 2011 at 9:31 AM UTC
I dream about you.
Do you know how rare that is, how taxing, how emotional?
Or do you just expect me to be here, always, waiting for you
Refusing to let my life move on when we both know
We both know that there’s nothing left of you
That it’s time to let you go.
No matter how many ships we could sail together
How many stars we wished upon
How many times we said goodbye, hello, goodbye
Is there really anything left, is there, is there
All my memories of you disappeared, replaced by new memories
Of a life without you in it.
“Do you still sing?” the cat asks the bird
“Even though you
You’re stuck in a cage where I can’t get to you, get to you”
The bird doesn’t reply
He doesn’t have the will to anymore
He doesn’t have the will, the will
Is it a bad thing to say I don’t miss you?
Even though how much we’ve been through, so much
And all I can do is see you sometimes
Sometimes, growing fainter, fainter
Only in dreamland?
“Will you still sing,” the cat asks the bird
“Even though I don’t want you to?”
Can you hear me
Can you hear, hear me
In dreamland?
"Can you still sing?" the cat meows comfortably, bored.
And all I can do is wonder where the words went
And realize that they were there all along.
"Don't lie. There are no lies here."
Outforth bursts a song like no other.
It’s only a simple phrase I need to say
Even though I just wasted two hundred and forty-four words
On a cause that was lost awhile ago.
The tendons in my fingers stretching,
Stretching like they never have before, because there’s no form here
There’s no will, want
Assumption, annihilation, amplification
Do you wear flannel still?
Or are you stuck in hospital scrubs?
I think I’ve exhausted all my questions.
"I give up," the cat states, walking off, tail swinging in the air.
The bird sits quietly
And sits
And waits
And says nothing.
Three hundred and sixty-three words now
And all I meant to say was goodbye.
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 2:01 PM UTC
It's the same every time
Waking up in a panic
The hangover's dull
Gradual throbbing
The amplification of existence's malaise
Reducing my feet
To a slow shuffle
My girlfriend has been calling it the same way
For six years
"You'll get up and check your wallet and make sure you have your keys"
And I do
She's beautiful because she's right
She's also gorgeous
But continually right
I get up and slip my fingers into the
Many compartments of my wallet
Making sure I feel the greasy
Cold plastic of the credit cards
The three IDs
One to drive a car
One to carry a gun
One to count as a person
And the flood of relief I feel
When I finger these plastic cards
Is alarming
How my mind jumps from jovial
Drunken thoughts
To hard
Plastic ones
In the midst of sleep
At ungodly hours of the morning
My identity personified
In polyurethane rectangles
I get back into bed
And again
After confirming that all
The clasps that keep the mask
Snug to my face
Are still there
I embrace her warmth
Under the thin comforter
She drapes her leg across me
While I kiss her forehead
"You smell like liquor"
Before browning out again
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 6:27 PM UTC
Accomplished fingers stroking the strings
Vibrating the air, adjusting the stiffness
Ribs of willow securely placed between my knees
Enbowed and concaved
The amplification like ,embroidered words
The flawless cello harmonious
As I grieve the instrument , I weep
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 3:33 AM UTC
Designated *****
Tastes and wasted time
Waking up bored enough
To jump off a building
Listening to forty
Years of life and love
I share mine of nil
I've had my fill
Of nonsense for today
Iced-over managing me
Lied obscene moderating
Miniscule matters
Multiplied by how much I dread
The amplification
Arduous impotency
Marked on inadequately
Silence as the fall completes
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 7:24 PM UTC
everything about you makes my whole being echo
and i long for nothing more than to sing in unison
the sole amplification of your answer
leaves me waiting for another and
i now know how it feels to be left hanging
off a cliff
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 12:49 AM UTC
Maybe it's the alcohol
or the amplification of emotions
when I realized I liked you
but we could never be
because you're too holy
and I am hellish.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 11:28 PM UTC
I tried to study poems and verses
for several times
but
I only learned to create the perfect rhyme
when I'm writing about you and for you
a million times
I tried to weave and fabricate all my feelings in to songs and melodies
for several times
but
I only got to do it when I'm singing about you and for you
a million times
I tried to live for a living
breathing and exhaling all qualms away
for several times
but
I only learned to seize it, when I'm living with you and for you
a million times
Perhaps one could say this is a mere exaggeration
a piece of total amplification
but
darling, no matter what they say;
I'd still be happy to write
and sing
and live
with you and for you
even if I'd do it for a
thousands or for a million times
-lkc
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 4:38 AM UTC
I would craft
(Bamboo grove
complete with
figures and huts)
Carved into an
unfortunate ivory
clawed from
elephant hide
(Hidden in forest
watching the
deer graze)
But no,
tumult of ideas,
fleeting,
jostling for position
leak out into
atmosphere.
(Enforced abstinence
decades of silence
and sudden ear-
bleeding amplification)
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 3:36 AM UTC
*As silence is magnified
So sound taken for granted-
undergoes instant amplification
Every nerve tuned to 440 hertz
A note encapsulating every word
Hammering a barre chord , bringing
the world to order , defying previously established borders* ..
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 8:08 PM UTC
Apt it is for love,
To chew the anger
Though needed amplification
in spite of vulnerable trust
which stands with statements
to fight pessimism.
Invaded by problems
terms and conditions applied
congratulated by complications
brings sometimes bad time
It tries to avoid instabilities
yes, love is Lengthy
And sometimes immiscible!
Better enthuse given
coupled with dulcet smile
It prefers to be lifelong
Not surprised by blunders added,
paving way for burly feelings
with artistic sensation
True, love is Lengthy
not same for all,
specific in marvy feelings
surely provides life lessons,
for it takes billions of pages
with primacy, the same
It is and will remain incomplete!
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 11:53 AM UTC
And what a roar it was!
Pride in my pride
The heavens opened
A mighty warning
A cutting of imperial cloth
Sharp teeth heralded truths
A saviour for the reading of my meek soul
the amplification of my courage by proxy
Each and every word blasting into existence
I swear Were plucked from my own silent mouth
Drooling for the courage pouring from the magnificence
A fearless and courageous stand
For the truth
I knew in the defining moment
The nature of true agapi
Truth needs no defending
He spoke softly
It was the truth that rung in everyone's ears
And shock, awe and relief
At the words
That could not be unsaid
that could not be unheard
And a thought
that could never be undone
Sep 30, 2021
Sep 30, 2021 at 4:58 AM UTC