"augmented" poems
What if love became so overwhelming, such an inextinguishable force that its true purpose betrayed itself completely?
To the point that even the utterance of those three powerful words, that at a different junction had held such promise, now left a distinct taste of uncertainty on the lips and a ringing of insanity in the ear drum. What else does one say when the most pure form of expression and commitment echo with distain and regret?
Even as I slide into introspection, diving deep to the point of no return, there seems to be no logical path, no penance for the monster I have created. Through my own autonomous actions and neglect I have reached this dark place. Perhaps I indulged beyond a point where thoughts and actions have boundaries. A broken compass , spinning without meaning. All indicators in tact, every cog and point in place, magnetism lost to exaggerated memories, fears and regrets.
Self delusion is a drink that is best served with company. With companionship the mind tends to believe its own meddling. Delusions are mistaken for truth and biased opinions blur with reality.
All roads lead to pain. Every so often a spark jumps to the surface of my consciousness. A pin ***** exclaiming hope. It’s a glitch of my own creation. The belief in happy endings and love prevailing. That love is more powerful than any disappointment, mistake or breech in trust. My reality had been resurfaced and augmented by the media. Love stories are just that. Stories. A wave of manufactured hope, washing over the beach of the human psyche. Every grain of sand is washed back to the sea just as it has arrived.
Happiness, a flame burning on a tiny wick. Enjoy the heat while it lasts for it is going to be a cold winter. And the power is out.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 3:19 PM UTC
On the Packing of Intersectionality: A Cross-Cultural Study
By M. Poncy Hector-Tworbst, B.A., M.Ed., Ph.D. Candidate
Unpack that intersectionality
And privilege transphile autonomy
Unite the paradigm’s hegemony
In the diaspora of agency
Cross-gender all peripherality
In post-colonial diversity
Dialogue augmented reality
And deconstruct avatar identity
All for the cause of authenticity
(But mostly I’m all about me, me, me)
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC
There's a certain condition known as losing connection
involving people, places and things of strong affection.
The phenomenon is marked by one or two parting to separate ways
and a feeling of disconnection is experienced highlighting the days.
Where the people concerned, in the past, were once close together,
are all now, due to a lack of communication, more apart than ever.
Once good friends, close relatives, associates and even lovers
have all fallen victim to the malady of estrangement as others.
We should never underestimate the effect of the passage of time
especially when augmented with distance that determines clime.
In this case the distance between the minds and hearts of all those who
have so drifted apart from each other no longer holding the same view.
It may also be a case where people have outgrown or transcended themselves
and do not identify any more with what was once regarded as familiar delves.
The vicissitudes of life can also be a major cause and often very decisive factor
where on the stage of this world one assumes or takes the role of a different actor.
Who knows to what degree a situation can change or influence the course of events
and leaves those alienated, that were once close together, now with different intents.
Another very obvious aspect is the physical departure because of death
of all those who, in this life, virtually shared the same space and breath.
It has also been written that, the soul of a person gone, sometimes tries to revive
or contact those whom it had most connection with while it was physically alive.
The same can be said of some of those who are still in their earthly ****** form
and cannot cope without the assurance or connection that before was the norm.
__________________________________
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 4:33 PM UTC
Disclaimer. They already have this.
God **** where was i
what happened to pokemon go,
I mean wouldn't it be cooler if
the pokemon you caught could battle later
and train them and do tournaments
that's the pokemon go
I woulda wanted
battle in an augmented reality,
virtually with strangers
I mean wouldn't it be hot if you said to some chicik
or dude,
hey my charmanders in close proximity of your squirt\
I uh mean squirtle
battle?
whilst wasted at the pub
Jun 25, 2019
Jun 25, 2019 at 7:49 PM UTC
The headphones go in. Sore Thumb begins.
I take a deep breath and get out of my car.
The guitar gently begins a pleasant melody
as my feet slide along the pavement.
A short walk, in both distance and time
but everything was still.
Eternity in a moment.
The drums join the guitar in perfect, unexpected cooperation,
my heartbeat and smile slightly augmented.
This is what we live for.
Sometimes we experience those moments that are without flaw,
so transitory yet frozen I nearly cry.
The skeletons of leaves scrape along the sidewalk.
A cold breeze sneaks under my sweater
giving me a chill that reminds me of the millions of nerves throughout my body.
I am alive, I am dead. I am all, I am none.
The vocals echo from a distant hallway.
Reminiscent, nostalgic, sentimental come to mind.
Rather than hear the soundtrack of my environment I imagine.
The vocals cut out and the song bursts into a colorful symphony.
With it bursts the deepest center of myself.
I arrive, my walk has come to an end
but I'll never forget that walk.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC
we're all armed
with an appliance
of emancipation
we can nurture non-violent
defiance in a
non-compliant ethos of
antiauthoritarian self-reliance
we have the ability to eliminate the
vestiges of imperialism and
dominant dogmas that choke
and impede our creativity and shackle
our imagination to impotent ideologies
fragmented unrealities augmented
by fractures in our psyche
tendrils of theology that prey
upon our fear and exacerbate
conditioned responses that are
at once
unnatural and irrational
and lead
inexorably
to infantile expressions of
regression and fantasies of an
aggression rooted in the
suppression of dissent and
the oppression of dissidents
deities
as impotent
as our terror
of the unknown
by the promise of security and prosperity
a cabal of brutish thugs have erected an
imaginary hierarchy and demanded our
subservient obedience and reverence for
this malfeasant apparatus that leeches
our paychecks and robs all of our dignity
while somehow retaining the illusion of liberty
a delusion that festers like an open wound
a tumorous ulcer oozing foul fluid into our minds
blotting out our capacity for cultivating a
future divorced from misanthropy
so pour kerosene on this fluttering
flame of revolt before it sputters out
if we'd quit looking back and forth at
one another rotting in the gutters
checking to see if we have more to
our name than our sisters and our brothers
we might just muster the courage to overthrow
the vapid and misguided fictions that
divide and segregate us into pawns
trapped in this unending rat race
they've deemed the American Dream
harness the revolutionary tenacity
dormant in humanity's most important *****
infinite potential latent in every molecule
each neuron dancing across synaptic
gaps and fanning the embers of an engine
that gives motion to this evolutionary frame
the human brain is omnipotent
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
A beautiful understatement
to see your hair graze your face,
startled but still treading,
in the soul red of your lipstick.
What life has been,
No more than a series of random anomalies.
How those trivial pocket-sized pieces,
tied in to envisage
to fix this inanimous reality.
How wayward me
lost in this purposeless dream,
at random to meet you,
augmented closer to declare,
the love people just theorize.
How life started for me after you.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 12:28 PM UTC
We should never envy the happiness of others just as we would not want them to view us in
the same vein. How is happiness quantified? Who knows the extent of other people's happiness? How do we know whether they are really happy? Are we conjecturing?
Leave others alone. It's totally futile to make any comparison between our state of happiness with that of others.
Let us learn to be content with our happiness however tiny that is. Aren't we lucky not to be living in pain or sorrow? To wish to have our happiness augmented is indicative of our discontent. A true malaise that would be.
No one can be totally happy neither can we have the same degree of happiness all the time. Our happiness has its ebb and flow and this duality we should always remember.
Happy people also have unhappy days just as unhappy people might have some happy days. Life viewed from this perspective is an alloy of happiness and sorrow.
With that in mind, we can assuredly say that happiness and unhappiness are not mutually exclusive.
If we can understand and accept that life is never perfect, that our happiness is only a contingency as all other aspects of our life are , we would have done away with that which unsettles us and would be a step closer to achieving contentment and tranquillity in our individual life.
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 9:12 AM UTC
We strode together in another age, my love,
You, in your earthen gown and beautiful dark tresses.
I, the wearer of the long plaited, thong and sinew sandal.
You and I, we strode through quiet valleys of tall conifer
Where huge rock falls left monolithic edifices... as monuments to past largess.
Together we walked as one, in a world much simpler than the one we live in now.
In a time, without the inhibition of contrivance or sophistication.
We walked in clarity and drank from clear, clean waters.
We dallied in the honeyed light of a huge, summer moon.
A field of dandy lions in the warm April sunshine, was the byre in which we made love and produced our babies.
A love ... un-harried, unhurried and devoid of any preoccupation other than that of the beautiful desire
We felt for each other.
The love we feel now is the same as the love shared then;
But in this age it is diluted and complicated by the urgencies and imperatives of the day.
Then there was just time...given and taken.
Without cost or penalty, without blame or insinuation, without hurt or harm.
Time in that better age...was a friend.
A friend who augmented the beauty of today into the promise of tomorrow,
A friend who exchanged the serenity of yesterday for the excitement of the new day’s dawn.
This was our time, when the bond of eternity sealed our commitment to each other.
For however many lifetimes we may live in...
We shall be one.
Marshalg
For darling Janet
12 September 2011
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 3:14 PM UTC
Well hello, all, I’m your maestro ceremonious
they call me Lokonious, purveyor of the odious
so sit back, relax, and celebrate the… atonalness?
A: Andante con fuoco
We’re goin’ a cappella so let me say first
your style’s ba-roke, now let’s get on with the verse
you’re all up in the scale with a falsetto pitch
hittin’ soprano like a castrato *****
my mind is sharp, while you’re stuck outta key
my rhythm’s all natural, you can’t find a beat
you need some help ’cause you’re out on your own
find that ****** on a subway, the metro-nome
B: Allegro con brio
throw down the fermata and hold up a minute
your ***** a cacophony, no way to spin it
and son, i ain’t broke, my style’s all classical
you just can’t register that my words are magical
I spit rhymes in fantasy, can’t you see that you’re beat?
And they thought an allegro was unfit for elegy
A: Moderato col legno
well as for your girl, it may sound corny
the ***** loves my brass ’cause she’s: oh so *****
dispel your illusion, i got one more
your girl’s like a crime show… easy to score
B: Allegretto grazioso
your intellect is minor and your insults are bassless
your composition’s hardly a harmony: graceless
your cymbalism’s trite, and your motif’s unknown
an unfocused opus full of dissonant drones
A: Affrettando agitato
get out my face with your unnatural rap
you spit cold air and your lyrics are flat
you’ve got no harm while my canon’s a gat
so work on your refrain, ‘fore I bust da cap-OOOHHHHH
B: Coda
pull your weak crap, ’cause you’re outta your mode
such imperfect rhymes that we’re calling a cod-a
no time for the fanfare, you’re trying my patience
an end to your requiem, bring out the cadence
So that’s their story, best not get involved
their fight’s an augmented fourth: difficult to resolve
Jun 13, 2012
Jun 13, 2012 at 5:47 PM UTC
One person is a multimillionaire
Another is a pick-pocket or liar
But all become one in they pyre
Mingling with the God of fire
God's gift is one's birth-place
Everyone, his sins will chase
God of death shows no grace
He will exactly count the days
Decide not man's worth by age
See whether he is in ignorance-cage
To come out, let him just manage
To help him, you have to encourage
One man is a monster
Another is an oyster
Yet another is a master
Let reasoning stop disaster
Knowledge if you accumulate
Great actions, you can emulate
Noble schemes, you can formulate
Let not the beginning be too late
Create, invent and discover
Pray to God for safety-cover
Scent-power is had by a flower
Your aims, do not at all lower
Edison in his greatest experiment
Faced stoically every disappointment
One day he invented the filament
Then light entered into every apartment
In this way, many geniuses were born
They initially walked on pricking thorn
Their brainy heads, crowns did adorn
They were proved to be great later on
Just go back in your memory lane
Had anyone thought of a flying-plane?
Wright Bros were regarded as insane
To mental blindness, they gave cane
By the Almighty, Sun was invented
By Sun, darkness is circumvented
By prayer, agonies are prevented
By sweat, our victories are augmented.
mvvenkataraman
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
Verse 1
Formless, Unyielding, I cling to this feeling
"Contain yourself" they said (well I think I won't!)
Know this, discerning, submit to this yearning
Cause when it ties me down I (slip right through the rope!)
Arcane Prisons cloud these visions
Pressured by my inhibitions
Only when I see through the mist
Will I have the means to prove this
Chorus
(Give up it's so absurd!)
In time you'll find, I have the final word!
(Give up it's all a dream!)
Or so it seems when all of your thoughts are blurred
(Step up if you deserve)
In time you'll find, I have the final word
(Step up, it's all a dream)
Or so it seemed, are all of your thoughts confirmed?
Verse 2
Shameless, revealing, the key to this feeling
Sustain yourself they said (and they think I won't!)
Know this, determined, submit to this burden
Cause when I hear that sound I (give in to the hope)
Arcane prisons cloud these visions
Tap these walls for breaks I listen
Only when I see through the mist
Will I have the means to do this
Bridge
(Patience is befitting of a master
Still life's short and we just want it faster)
Chorus 2x
2nd Bridge
Break my locks, unlock the breaks internal
Burn down the walls, from my prison infernal
One last knock in case there's any more doubt
I won't stop until my fire burns out!
Augmented Final Chorus
(Step up if you deserve)
In time you'll find, I have the final word
(Step up, it's all a dream)
Or so it seemed, are all of your thoughts confirmed?
(Give up it's all a dream!)
Or so it seems when all of your thoughts are blurred
(Give up it's so absurd!)
Today you'll find, I'm having the final word!
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 3:36 AM UTC
Our nights of assessing God,
With our heads conjoined to the windowpanes,
Our thoughts permeating throughout the glass.
Two lukewarm coffees embellished the windowsill,
The synthesis of our cognition and entwined fingers,
The soft touch of shoulders leaning upon each other,
Brought forth beatific vision, we saw God;
His blemished flesh, the formation of his bones.
It began,
His vertebral column, intangible lights, the Aurora Borealis.
His archaic vertebrae, stained in ethereal fluorescence;
The curvature, swirling, as the Deity writhes in euphoria,
A childish game,
Our God, content in the night.
His hands, formed from the dust of Bethlehem,
Grains of sand corralling to form flesh upon the detritus of Rome.
His Holy land, The Vatican; Structures of marble and stone,
Merely his cupped hands,
As his disciples' feet caress his palms.
His organs; The planets in orbit;
His heart, our sun.
The rays of light that adorn our skin,
Merely the palpitations of a hidden pulsating heart.
his divinity, subject of uncertainty in the petulant eyes of his children
walking in Terra Incognita.
His skin, Lo, to the stars;
Our hands yearned to touch the celestial freckles,
outstretched to feel the fibres of God;
And like our limbs, so did God outstretch,
his flesh, but space; suffusing within the translucent contours of the cosmos.
To be told we were made in the image of God, is to be deceived;
Our childish conjecturing, truly a theorem to be displaced,
Our augmented minds, illuminated;
An aureole behind our heads,
We became biblical as we touched lips by the mantelpiece.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 1:25 PM UTC
There is a machine
it's hands driven by no singular man
nor collective of men but by the subconscious desires of whole societies,
possibly by all mankind.
It's will; perhaps passed on in our blood
but I suspect a more devious actor at play.
The augmented reality of language ****** upon us in our youth
with such tyrannical force it makes the rule of King Leopold
hardly a murmur in the heart of darkness.
It's reason as noble as it is useful. It aims to connect;
to help share the eloquent, heavenly images
that reside behind our eyes in our most sincere and naked moments.
Noble indeed are the intentions of language but they deceive,
make it hard for our pupils to see what needs to be seen
thus we live as Thoreau has said 'lives of quiet desperation'
blind to what our hearts cry for in the black of our deepest silence.
We deny them in the name of acceptance and comfort
for the fear of failure wear upon us like a heavy robe.
These words they echo such violent doubt
and in days past I had triumphed this lingering hesitation
with holy regard as if it embodied me with some super power.
What lunacy, what madness I endured;
twisted about by the contradictive nature of logos.
No more shall I wear this weight upon me,
cast off the coercive syntax and again like a child;
I think in images.
I may still write, even speak in fictitious representations
but I shall live my friends,
live to see these fiery reflections of light manifested into reality.
Live so that I am not remembered in words
but in the hearts of other men...
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 9:36 AM UTC
Daily practice was my Catholic Regimen
On those strings
Blooded fingertips
Evolving into
Callused hammers
D 5th augmented, 7th
A transitional dilly
Will be
The end
Of me
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 6:50 PM UTC
She was a lover of augmented volume
To muffle her thoughts
She was a lover of alcoholic beverages
To drown her thoughts
She was a lover of casual ***
To distract her from her thoughts
But above all
She was a lover of not loving
The most unfortunate love of all
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 1:45 PM UTC
Don't quite understand why people keep crying,
Cribbing about things, cursing their fate all the time.
As if tortured by life, sulking and sighing,
Not realizing that everything would eventually be fine!
Being dejected by the minor downfalls in life,
Depressed as the moments unfold unexpected.
Forgetting that they are the gist of being alive,
Without which the upheavals wouldn't be augmented!
Lamenting on their past, not focusing on the present,
Too busy regretting, mourning and grieving,
Observing and noticing only the unpleasant,
Failing to grasp the true essence of living!
So just break all barriers and breathe free,
Remember, there was a reason you were born!
No matter how difficult, just let it be,
Coz the only truth is- life goes on!
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 3:10 AM UTC
Six String Theory
tachyons protons neutrons galore
theoretical bombardment of mystical thought
jazzy country twisted rock knocking at my door
bending string blister melody sought
uptempo slowed down bugs bunny hop
octavial flated fifths and tones augmented
temperatures rising and I can't stop
missing musical chair sadly lamented
quick step spanish flamenco dancing feet
growling woofers and screaming tweeters
employing Lester's capo and magic wand
burned rubber top down blowing two seaters
it matters not how you stroke it
turn the preamp clockwise to 8 point 5 deary
power chords belly flopping your wammy bar
close your eyes and dream a six string theory
Gomer LePoet....
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 3:09 PM UTC
The Fugitive slept through the first dangerous night
With augmented vigilance towards the sky.
Search planes meticulously detect
through isolated landscapes
far from any human habitation.
Frequencies diminished
for searches are haphazard
with communities far behind.
The fugitive tentatively rode through daylight
for unknown landscapes hold hidden,
unfamiliar perils.
Cold liquid rushes through roadside gullies,
while creatures hide amongst
dark and mysterious forests.
The fugitive enjoyed
the throaty warble of new birds nearby,
and listening to the wind shift
the leafs in the trees,
Never having felt these simple moments
of exquisite happiness.
The Fugitive most relentless fears
of starvation appear.
Tortured by hunger,
forced to hack away with stone,
at raw skin of fish.
The fugitive
once yearning for choice,
then with choice,
made wrong ones,
remembering,
suddenly,
grimly,
living a life hungry
for feelings,
colour,
and love.
For the child
had no choice at life at all.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
My love is like to ice, and I to fire
How comes it then that this her cold so great
Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,
But harder grows the more I her entreat?
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat
Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold,
But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,
And feel my flames augmented manifold?
What miraculous thing may be told,
That fire,which all things melts,
Should harden ice,
And ice,which is congealed with senseless cold,
Should kindle fire by wonderful device?
Such is the power of love in gentle mind,
That it can alter all the courses of kind.
ፍቅሬ እንደ በረዶ ነች
ፍቅሬ እንደ በረዶ ነች እኔደሞ እንደሳት
ታዲያ እንዴት ሆኖ ነው ዝምታዋ የበረታው
በፍላጎቴ ግለት ያልቀለጠው ያልተረታው፣
ይልቅ በቀረብኳት በተማፀንኳት ቁጥር፣
በረዶ፣ በበረዶ ላይ ሚጋግር!
ደሞስ እንዴት ይሆን
የኔ ፍም እሳት
በልቧ ቁር የማይጠፋ የማይዳፈን
ጭራሽ ሙቅ ላቤ የሚንቆረቆር፣
የፍቅሬ ቋያ ሚበረታ እያደር?
ታዲያ ከዚህ የላቀ ምን ታምር ሊነገር፣
ሁሉን አቅላጭ እሳት በረዶ ሲጋግር!
በአንፃሩ ለመኮማተር የማይቸገር
በረዶ ፣ሲሰትዋል ሳተ አንድዶ!
እንግዲህ እንዲህ ነው ጉልበቱ የፍቅር
የነገሮችን ኡደት አፋልሶ የሚቀይር!
(ኤደመንድ ስፔንሰር)//
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 8:17 AM UTC
*the tape spins . . . in over-reel
haphazard lines in convulsed black*
1.
Clear and still lake . . . hardly a ripple on the blue matter
Step to water’s edge . . . hesitant eyes briefly touch the surface
Heel lifts into the arch of civilisations hanging . . . humming inside-tunes
Foot pendulous and . . . toes dipping aching-slow sink in
clean and . . . s u b m e r g e d
Then rising, a single drop escapes . . . sweet h e a l
2.
Step forward . . . into the void . . . it has been waiting . . . sacrosanct
the flourish . . . to reach . . . constant . . . oh, it is here
finally
( . . . )
*this is
the truest understanding
to me . . . undeniable life-spring*
S T, 29 Augmented 2013
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 7:14 AM UTC
Six String Theory
tachyons protons neutrons galore
theoretical bombardment of mystical thought
jazzy country twisted rock knocking at my door
bending string blister melody sought
uptempo slowed down bugs bunny hop
octavial flated fifths and tones augmented
temperatures rising and I can't stop
missing musical chair sadly lamented
quick step spanish flamenco dancing feet
growling woofers and screaming tweeters
employing Lester's capo and magic wand
burned rubber top down blowing two seaters
it matters not how you stroke it
turn the preamp clockwise to 8 point 5 deary
power chords belly flopping your wammy bar
close your eyes and dream a six string theory
Gomer LePoet....
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 2:22 PM UTC
Muscle groups in the atmosphere
tension
ready for exertion
or maybe a break
snap
ripping cords
would be attatched to rocks
but not now
when all has fallen
but then
all flies
like time
or planes
lies on the air
as it teleports one's body
across the universe
into the conjugal visit that is today
such a catch
this day
so pretty
has a good personality
but is it real?
Nah
can't be
nothing that perfect
is ever natural
but augmented somethings
meant to make all else
quake in its reflection
mirror mirror
why oh why
must the caged bird
breathe?
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 9:29 PM UTC
A coercive throat siphons the sky: delineating.
Men of Normandy, your dulcet words still flow
On aching gusts around these hillock ramparts.
Autumns tapestry fell with Harold, listless it
Furnishes the margin of an otherwise bleak-boughed
Wood. An obstinate robin: the failing furnaces closing
Ember, pursues the regressive winter light among the
Limbs of a grand oak, laden with iron cloud, low
And heavy. The thicket is sparse yet astir, two narrow
Eyes, eight square, inky pupils squat below the
Russet brow of a thrice augmented cottage: histories
White-washed witness, bearing pale stone arms and a
Jaunty red-bricked cap.
©Thomas Gabriel
Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 3:08 PM UTC