"amplitude" poems
drenched in a sea of waveforms,
dancing on the ebb of a digital ocean
its crests crowned with sound
pitched upon amplitude tides
their volume compressed;
reverberating through glass speakers
mere dots in the sands
i hear cadence...
within the music of your speech
how can it be,
such a many word
written,
yet forgotten,
indelibly on your beach?
if we could interpret the oceans
what stories would its sea speak?
of its corruption?
treasures unreturned
to lost and found?
or of its time to give up the dead,
or of the angels that fell to its ground?
© Qwey.ku
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 5:42 AM UTC
The street
filled with tomatoes,
midday,
summer,
light is
halved
like
a
tomato,
its juice
runs
through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes
its ease
on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds
its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
****** it:
the knife
sinks
into living flesh,
red
viscera
a cool
sun,
profound,
inexhaustible,
populates the salads
of Chile,
happily, it is wed
to the clear onion,
and to celebrate the union
we
pour
oil,
essential
child of the olive,
onto its halved hemispheres,
pepper
adds
its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
it is the wedding
of the day,
parsley
hoists
its flag,
potatoes
bubble vigorously,
the aroma
of the roast
knocks
at the door,
it's time!
come on!
and, on
the table, at the midpoint
of summer,
the tomato,
star of earth, recurrent
and fertile
star,
displays
its convolutions,
its canals,
its remarkable amplitude
and abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
of fiery color
and cool completeness.
11.4k
732
She rose to His Requirement—dropt
The Playthings of Her Life
To take the honorable Work
Of Woman, and of Wife—
If ought She missed in Her new Day,
Of Amplitude, or Awe—
Or first Prospective—Or the Gold
In using, wear away,
It lay unmentioned—as the Sea
Develop Pearl, and ****
But only to Himself—be known
The Fathoms they abide—
8.7k
Budging the sluggard ripples of the Somme,
A barge round old Cérisy slowly slewed.
Softly her engines down the current *******
And chuckled softly with contented hum,
Till fairy tinklings struck their croonings dumb.
The waters rumpling at the stern subdued;
The lock-gate took her bulging amplitude;
Gently from out the gurgling lock she swum.
One reading by that calm bank shaded eyes
To watch her lessening westward quietly.
Then, as she neared the bend, her funnel screamed.
And that long lamentation made him wise
How unto Avalon, in agony,
Kings passed in the dark barge, which Merlin dreamed.
4.3k
1428
Water makes many Beds
For those averse to sleep—
Its awful chamber open stands—
Its Curtains blandly sweep—
Abhorrent is the Rest
In undulating Rooms
Whose Amplitude no end invades—
Whose Axis never comes.
2.8k
**** here I am again
suffused by incoming sunlight floods,
blonde tresses decorative,
and a
refrigerator light dim surprising,
********** a future fest,
when in search of ordinary milk and coffee
cherries, grapes, watermelon,
cole slaw, caramelized walnuts,
Spanish Marcona almonds,
chicken defrosting, and wine,
a pink rose,
blushing like me,
at the amplitude of love and blessings
I have uncovered,
and that covers me,
while she sleeps,
I sip first coffee and
her love
and more than suffused,
*I am effused,
unable to contain all this,
what I am feeling,
like my water broken,
pouring tears
and I wonder who is*
this idiot
that forgets to say
thank you
for what he
has been given,
and who in return
can merely offer up
a pauvre writ,
a love poem,
of salt and sweet
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 6:42 AM UTC
Oil painted red sky summer
Blue moon June, and tailor-made memories
Skimming the surface like a skipped stone
Riding the ripples
Of an early summer’s amplitude
Like a light ray runaway,
Dancing with darkness anxiously on the edge of the abyss
A lone wanderer,
Searching the soil for some semblance of a soul, but
Our bound hands were meant to dig
Never to hold
Jun 11, 2021
Jun 11, 2021 at 2:10 AM UTC
Do the tiny footsteps of ants make a sound?
When we concave their hills I can’t hear a sound.
Hands, wrapped around your fingers. Eyes
closed. A baby’s first cry is a sound
Never forgotten. Like the silhouettes of bodies
burned. Does the bomb still make a sound?
Take two waves, equal in frequency, opposite
in amplitude. Silence can be created from a sound.
Sometimes I forget I’m speaking in another language.
To me, my thoughts always make the same sound.
Shuffling papers, typed words on pages
even when never spoken, they still make a sound.
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 9:43 PM UTC
**** me platonically.
Measure the distance between your fingers and the synapse in my brain.
Check the amplitude across my breastplate and The absence of love marks semblance covering it.
Detach your hips from mine and run away from Me faster.
Look along the purlieu of my heart and shake me Harder with subliminal messages between Glances.
Touch my versification to your mouth and do not Stop your flickering eyes from studying the genial Eulogies between every line.
Sir, you cannot touch antique pieces of marrow And bone.
This blood is obsolete.
How anachronistic to have a heart pumping Inside of a dead soul.
Please tell me a story, the side I could never see.
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
...Woolen sleep mask
atop a wolf's muzzle...
the amplitude of retention
and snap.
Storifying vibrations/impressions...
collated for pickled dreams...
lives?
Konstantinos Mark
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:49 PM UTC
The waves crashed as my knees buckled so straight
I could hear my inner thoughts screaming “it’s already too late!”
The water, so jagged and blunt with force
Threw me and my mind fully off course
The amplitude had ceased yet the water remained
No matter how hard I tried some parts were not drained
I suppose to me you’re like the droplets of water
Those little bits that aren’t really a bother
But no matter what I know that they’re there
I really feel them when my soul is quite bare
And no matter how I try to dry them
They have become a part of me like a flower to its stem
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 1:37 AM UTC
I'm like smoke
I begin to blow
Through the concrete
and through the snow
And no one you'll ever know
Thinks the world moves too slow
Except me
Another night another choke
Another ignorant bloke
I feel the world is a stage
So I dance every day
Center stage of the masquerade
and I know we're all feelin' safe
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder
Where's the thunder?
I saw the lights but couldn't feel em move
A scooby-snack without the due
I couldn't feel the groove
Unless it' was in the amplitude
Another outrageous night
Out of sight
A state of mind
Control everything all of the time
Like the Pharaoh, The Sparrow, a king
Forget everyone
yet retain everything
On top of the world, on top of me
It's all about heart and compatability
And your faithfulness, it spoke to me
I don't think I've ever heard the truth
But the things you see could be your truce
I bet you think you've got me figured out
But none of your words ever left my mouth
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 5:02 AM UTC
Arpita ,-The Only one .
There is one ,
Only one Arpita ,
With ten thousands synonyms ,
And two Nature’s amplitude ,
To cover sense of love ,and that of feeling ,
The widened unconquered ,
Ripples beyond the horizon ,
And the frictionless revere ,
Mingles with the waited time ,
Lo ! the colossal silence chambers the rime .
Hers is the eternal Divine in love ,
And she tinges the hearts ,
With the magic fragrance of frenzy ,
She impels ,she awakens the slumbering soul ,
There is only one Arpita , that arises and rolls !
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
Medicine induced hallucinations,
body quivering with ache,
and I'm hearing the sweet chime of bells
In this hour of pain my mind orchestrates.
The next drop from the IV,
helps even greater than the last,
a constant drumming in my head
a beat which was not meant for dance.
The others around me dressed in white
say I'm doing fine and that I should rest,
but when there's music pouring into the room
Sleep is what I must detest.
Can they not hear the wondrous sounds?
The vibrations that reflects my pain?
Those invisible waveforms move visibly
or have I just gone entirely insane?
There is no music, they tell me.
It must be a side-affect to the medication.
The ambiguous tune that rattles my brain,
is death knocking, it is by my orchestration.
But who is to say what I hear
is not real?
The tune in my head I wish to transcribe
but I'm weak,
and barely clinging to life.
So no one will hear this stirring melody.
This is the song I hear towards the end of my life.
In these last precious moments
laying in my seemingly sterile bed,
the tune haunts me 'till I shut my eyes.
but the tune is my comfort, I do not dread.
So take me with you, oh humble melody.
I welcome your amplitude with open ears
Let's take a listen to what you're telling me,
I dare you to move me to tears…..
The warm blanket of the strings comforts me,
the brass section: a foundation, a rock.
Oh, but hear the timpani? It taps to the beat of my near-ending biological clock.
The woodwinds, a sympathetic harmony that aides my despair.
Their aloofness like the machine by my side, filling me with air.
*The main theme speaks to me directly, and I've been worn thin
but I swear the main line is "I've fought valiantly, but this battle I could not win."*
I do not have to open my eyes to see,
that the director of this symphony is myself.
I've created this music on my death bed,
and it was not meant for anyone else.
When I close my eyes this final night,
take a somber breath and leave.
I'll have my tune in my head,
and nobody for me to grieve.
Goodbye to this world around me,
now the nurse come to medicate.
One last final wave of my arms.
This song I hear, mine alone, I orchestrate.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 11:02 PM UTC
Trouble looms on yon horizon
Scan the body language near,
Signs of agitation pending
Thinning lips to eyes of fear.
Perspiration at the temple
Ire suppressed in florid face,
Amplitude of conversation
Hold the stance and maintain grace.
Pace yourself in torrid moments
Stand as though you know you’ll win,
Gird yourself for fiery challenge
Brace the strength you hold within.
Confrontation rears it’s mane
Conflict will now have it’s way,
Gird yourself for battle friend...
Initiate and win the day!
(Or take a breath and walk away.)
Marshalg
@theCoalface
Mangere Bridge
22 October 2009
Oct 23, 2009
Oct 23, 2009 at 12:19 AM UTC
I’m sleeping
Heavy creaking footsteps walk down our hall
Into our bedroom
Auditory echo of dysnchronous high amplitude waves [maybe?]
Rough hands grab my legs
Ripped out of bed
Dragged out of the tissue paper of my reality
Into dark expanse, glistening eyes turn to me
Voice [speaks internally]:
I will eat you, one day at a time. Moment by moment I devour you
Struggle
Open my eyes
Articulating forms become dresser
Plant
Clothes on the floor
“Stop”
“You’re dreaming. It’s nothing. Go back to sleep”.
I wake up tired the next day.
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 11:41 PM UTC
I want to eat your hair
until it pools thick in my gut,
barreling black through my intestines.
Inhale your elbows, shoulders
every movement, noise,
the face you makes when calculating a tip. Moments laughter
comes so hard your face doesn't make a sound at all
Smoke still lingers in grocery store parking lots,
your puffy eyes hunting caffeine in the noonday sun.
No more a blunder on your part.
Simply a life of difficult days.
Half memories lie within these things.
A little girl who spent summers indoors
, for reasons I don’t recall.
Where her parents were, God only knows.
Venturing out beyond the sunset to drop
bottled notes into puddles and storm drains.
Staring with an amplitude that is making your organs rattle against each other.
I can feel you going on with your day.
It's the salute that hurts, a handshake you don't want to return
graves you planted yourself.
pick the wrong adventure in a conversation,
words move outside of time, today and yesterday
nostalgic for moments still happening,
as if looking back on it from a great distance
The uneventfulness of true struggle is quietly grotesque.
Like the death of a dog I know I should have loved better,
forgetting to witness anything save for the aftermath.
You can’t make fire feel afraid.
We were younger, and we are, and we will be again.
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 3:57 AM UTC
I remember the days of rambling aimless down beaches naked of past and frozen in present with zero regard for future. I remember the smell and sound of ocean cracking against shore in broken fragments of bop rhythm. I can still recall faces of people I never met and still hear the voices of closest friends and lovers and strangers and pets who came to the forefront of my reality and then vanished into the wind with nothing more than a simple note to say goodbye. I can recall the trips down coast routes in cars, borrowed from nobodies for a time to get from A to B without worrying about starvation or getting lost - with the mystical island rocks deep in sea, poking through the surface to greet the eye with asymmetrical wonder. The seals on abandoned sands, moaning for death and sinning with boredom and sheer laziness of the upmost amplitude. I can remember standing on roadside, sticking out thumb, smiling, and catching rides within a minute by the most incredible of characters to wander together through the paved isles of earthly human veins of vanity transport. I can remember remembering memories that have faded into silk dreams of past-life same-form consciousness that only surface from time to time to whisper sweet proverbs of sage and true light - I remember forgetting nothing and carrying on to see if anything actually matters in the grand scope of pearly eyes of cosmic vision - I remember, I remember, I remember.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
Caught in the maze
Of amazing veins
****** cells excel
Tunneling thru’
Vessels and vestibules
Mind oscillates vacillates
In chaotic amplitude
Like a pendant in pendulum
Of wishes and vices
Divine and devilish
Wise and unwise
Pride and prejudice
Dual mind is in duel
Behind the temple
Brain at home in skull
Will and wit seated well in skill
Rein, rule or roam and ruin
Embroidered and embroiled
Embodied and emboldened
Meditate, mediate,
Cogitate, agitate
Churn and spurn
Nurture the soul within
Explore the radiant light
At the end of the tunnel
Mind, the deity on duty
As mysterious as its Maker,
The Brain behind the brain
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 10:17 AM UTC
Caught in the maze
Of amazing veins
****** cells excel
Tunnelling thru’
Vessels and vestibules
Mind oscillates vacillates
In chaotic amplitude
Like a pendant in pendulum
Of wishes and vices
Divine and devilish
Wise and unwise
Pride and prejudice
Dual mind is in duel
Behind the temple
Brain at home in skull
Will and wit seated well in skill
Rein, rule or roam and ruin
Embroidered and embroiled
Embodied and emboldened
Meditate, mediate,
Cogitate, agitate
Churn and spurn
Nurture the soul within
Explore the radiant light
At the end of the tunnel
Mind, the deity on duty
As mysterious as its Maker,
The Brain behind the brain
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
Wobbly knifes, nervous on
diner tables
How are you?
I wish I didn't know why
you are not here
exploring foreign floors
together where our feet meet
sinking into waiting steps
the hum's amplitude increases
as I fade out
to a state of mind
framed around you
built upon your grounds
Blurry eyed under hotel covers
where a man on a mission
scales fences that block
building backs.
This unanticipated destination
where have we found ourselves
by getting lost?
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 10:33 PM UTC
Gratitude may have nothing to do with latitude.
It may, but it can pull you out of sad lassitude.
If we are lucky, it results in some kind of beatitude
Felt in welcome happy waves of great amplitude.
Those who repeatedly fail to be grateful
May find their lives unfortunately fateful.
And those whom insist on being disgraceful
May probably end in the mud with a face full.
Many folks exist with morals all eschewed
Not often enough that do so end up *******
But maybe with their karma thus imbued
They’ll sicken hearing their opinion booed.
While to some it is easy to be disdainful,
Especially those who live without a brain full,
And those to whom greed is the main pull,
Let’s all hope their daily lives are painful .
Now we know how the fools are wooed
We should take steps to not come unglued
And band together when times get rude
And not elect those from a defective brood.
Those who repeatedly fail to be grateful
May find their lives unfortunately fateful.
And those whom insist on being disgraceful
May probably end in the mud with a face full.
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 9:08 PM UTC
This music is bringing me closer to you
I've never felt this with such amplitude
I work my way over, striving to learn how
To embrace you
To be one with you
As if bound by unmasterable chords
I want a symphonic relationship
You say, "no strings attached"
But i want those strings
Those stubborn strings
You refuse to speak to me
You do not squander such a rare voice
I know of your distorted intentions
You think, "don't play me"
But dont fret my auburn beauty
For I will be musically inclined
To loving you
Apr 23, 2011
Apr 23, 2011 at 10:34 AM UTC
Transfixed by her charisma
I had become
a spellbound adorer
of a marvelous quality beyond
ordinary words of description
There are certain people
with the qualities of children
who communicate silently
but with great amplitude
magnificent angelic grace
These precocious adults
are immune to age
their maturity is of the ages
worldly chronology
is a mere circumstance
This sweet state they’ve acquired
so tangible and palpable to the eyes
so special, ascended and rarefied
compels one to wonder and wish
and hope to become so wise
Radiant aura is a part of the gift
the brilliant glow of a spirit encased
within a host balanced by the flow
of all the love in the universe
quaking to be freed and let go
Dec 13, 2017
Dec 13, 2017 at 9:38 PM UTC