"brainwave" poems
*with all these advances
in neuroscience
it’s time you numbskulls
learn a little about your brains*
1
First up, you must know
your brain’s made of the
right hemisphere and the left hemisphere -
and what do they say to each other
when they can’t agree with each other?
“Let’s split.”
2
You know the neurons
(no, not morons – neurons, you ***** –
now, why do they love emails?
Cos they love sending and receiving
lots of messages, these neurons do
3
Now, you 100bn-deficit no-brainers -
do you know what
your brain does
when it sees a friend across the street?
Yes, it sends a brainwave…
And when does your brain get afraid?
Yep, when it loses its nerve…
And be alert - never give your brain a bath
cos you don’t want to be brainwashed, do ya?
4
You get fired, baby,
you don’t work any more;
but your neurons -
they get working when fired
5
And for more advances in neuroscience
you might want to consult your nearest
neurosturgeon…
with all these advances
in neuroscience
it’s time you numbskulls
learn a little about your brains -
while I get back to slicing these donors' brains fine;
or making them into soup -
just part of the trade, you know, of neuroscience
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 5:49 AM UTC
I miss the instant connection that we had
Why was it just you?
You,
who through all your drugs and alcohol could still write a paragraph of beauty.
You,
who hid your intelligence under a layer of nonchalance.
You didn’t know how happy I was then
You knew that we clicked like a lock.
But didn’t know that I’ve never felt that before.
You know what I miss?
I miss the ease of a smile around you
The lack of a guard.
The shared brainwave.
I don’t have that here
But the stars are here waiting for you to see
And the roads are open for us to run,
(even though we both despise it with a passion)
And we can sit at a table in the cafeteria and talk about the wildest things but it’s okay
Because they make sense to us.
You know what I miss?
I miss you.
Feb 3, 2024
Feb 3, 2024 at 3:05 AM UTC
The sky was a cornflower
and the trees heavy
with birdsong
air fragrant with freshness
cooling the silk of my bare
heat rising from my
skin in shades of
tropical
morning pond
oasis of damp promise
teeming with life
under surface
mini color-popped creatures
humming with
fluorescent vitality
fronds reaching out
in an aquatic dance
nourishing the gateway
to inner organs
with sweet
vitamin love
as a trip of
buzzing, faintly heard
opens into my brainwave
revitalizing
cleaning out toxicity
pushing out
words that lower
self-worth
bringing up subconscious
potions of power
harmonious with the new,
embryonic fluid of clear
reaching deep
into corners of
brittle heartdust
And my lotus soul opens
a small glowing orb
expanding in polychrome prisms
to the glory of
aurora-tipped streaks
as straight into
my aching heart
the quenching dawn
speaks
My thirst slaked by
nature's mantra,
I now stand waist-deep
into grounded
and heavenly clarity,
feeling water lilies bloom
between my thighs
as I take the occasion
to pick up the pieces
where my soul
left off
and despite all odds,
arise
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 12:04 AM UTC
Great professions
Great foundations of thy nation
To them we look up
A brainwave for every aspirant.
Beggars, unemployed
Criminals and those who are sick
Bed-ridden and with counted lives
They, who are in need.
If we look up to people
Do we also look down to others?
If we are great contenders,
Are we also great in making others feel low ?
We choose to upgrade lives
While in the stairs, our views are on pinnacle
The hub was to escalate
At times, forgetting to where we came from.
What's the point of attaining positions ?
Or even being the crest in the nation's list ?
We indeed are people with the same blood
The same dreams , yet with mixtures of line ups.
To be great , one must serve
Great leaders starts from being great servants
For He who saved us became a servant first
He didn't boast His power and authority
He didn't look down to others
Instead, He lived with them
To those who are oppressed ,
Abused and neglected
By the ever-judging society,
You are the God's centre .
We must have the eye
To see things the way He sees them
The heart that feels
With compassion and sympathy* to others.
Love God
Love others
Show mercy and care.
7/9/14 (@xirlleelang)
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
Break me apart
Split open my sides
Let me bleed every reason
For me to give you
One more chance
You do not deserve
But I will give it to you anyway
Because what is one more
Crack in the glass
What is one more
Stitch in my heart
What is one more scar
To last me a lifetime
What is one more memory
To break me at the thought of you
You have already burned your smile
Into every brainwave
So that every time I hear another boy's laugh
I can’t help but hear your voice
Like a sweet melody in my ear
I can’t help but picture
Your smile on their faces
So what is one more
Heartache in the long run
What is one more chance
When in the end
It always comes back to you
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 8:48 AM UTC
When men are from mercury and not from mars
It means women are from unmentioned galaxy stars
When you give me your messages
In multitudes of melodies & Curious cacophony of cranial codes
Dare I decipher this disconcerted data
In
Massive mainframes of masked mental material
Hidden honeysuckle hints buried deep within
Lust covered lurking lexicons in libraries of linguistic whisper hints
For
Love innuendos in serpentine tongues
Like a brainwave barrage by day & Titanium telepathy attacks by night
You stop at nothing to remain in my sight
I never told you I was from unmentioned galaxy stars
You’re a man from mercury and not from mars
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 1:18 AM UTC
She sticks to your skin like sleep on leather
She's potent as gin and light as a feather
She's spending the night in your temporal lobe
She'll dance in your head, in her sequin robe
A craftsman of fantasy
Your minds beautiful synergy
She's a brainwave
****** electricity
She makes cave paintings on bones
Her pictures mystic and unknown
So much like primitive nature
Running over with every tone
Your mind is domicle to her
Your mind is canvas to her
She grows like wanted weeds, like the clung dirt on seeds
She crawls the minds walls, She's vines all in a sprawl
She's your minds mistress
Making mental mischief
Thoughts you have are her's through you
She's there like glue to intrigue you
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 5:49 AM UTC
Hah, yeah, I get on those kicks all the time, I say.
Yeah, it's like, you know, yeah?
Yeah. I nod. The party isn't over yet.
You're not getting, like, you know, huh?
No. No, not at all, I say.
Sure, yeah, you wanna, hmm?
Yeah, I guess so, whisper.
Takes my hand in my head puts acid mouth tongue.
So, you, yeah, and me?
Nod. Whatever.
!
"Mother, won't be home tonight. Tell Pa it's okay to worry,
don't know where I'll be
when I'll be home
Love you."
!
Takes me bedroom hold the fort
*Nice *** hmm, you, yeah?*
You're ****** as we.
Can you tell I'm the goat-footed balloonman?
Cry far and wee for me.
!
"Mother, taking crack-baby home today;
tell Pa it's okay to worry
don't know where I'll be
when I'll be home
Love,"
!
And that was whatever far ago in party temple-house
of Solomon and concubines.
Yeah, it's like, brainwave, chemical fire, no?
No, I.
whisper.
No, not at all. (Ofcoursenot.) -----!
Feb 5, 2012
Feb 5, 2012 at 5:38 PM UTC
When I was little
my father took me to an art exhibit
and stood in front a colossal blend
of hues and tinctures and smeared philosophy
that my unadulterated mind could not calculate.
I pondered the painting
and told my father I could not understand
and he said he did not, either
with a musing look on his face
that registered his scrutiny and brainwave.
But I still could not understand how
one can be captivated by something
one does not understand.
Years later, I met you, and
I think about that painting.
And now I understand.
When I was little
and my mother was away,
my immune system battled a cough.
But I was too fragile, my body too brittle,
so I climbed the forbidden cupboard
in our kitchen
and flooded my lungs with cough syrup
and the drug took over my body
as my delicate knees quivered
and I collapsed on the cold linoleum floor.
When my father found out, he told me
not to ever take too much medicine
or anything
because too much of something is never good.
And now I understand why
they told me to stay away from you.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
Let's take a dive through my home estate,
a place I've tried to escape since my first brainwave.
I'll show you flat roofs and wayward avenues,
shopping trolleys that become steeds at two in the morning
next to mowed down greenery lying abandoned due to overuse.
I used to deliver newspapers along this route.
This spot, right here, has a great Wrekin view.
Back in my youth, it reminded me of you -
new roads, new horizons, new people to meet.
Let's keep moving to the end of the street
where a house is sent letters from the wicked government,
asking a mother if she's recovered from her own ill head.
Like her bed is four-poster when she can barely pay rent.
Her pathway displays a name written in cement.
Our descent continues with the drop-offs at Maccies.
A clock towers over us while we're waiting for taxis
to take us out of this place and onto higher plains
with house party nights and endless summer days.
But our dreams remain chained like bicycle frames,
The keys are locked away, we pray
in cars under stars, they say
we can be anything we want to be.
Such as royalty, or prime minister of this great country,
if we work as hard as anyone who's born into money.
So we hunt for hidden weaponry, hoping they see our cannon fire
and where spirits only fade, there will one day be a parade.
Sep 8, 2020
Sep 8, 2020 at 2:53 PM UTC
I feel nurtured in a way that every wake I shall risen to pretenses of galls
In your eyes expose the mind of a hypnotized blindness
Listen to the suspense listen to the music in which tell you something’s coming
Playing with your mind in an open space in the confines of a small place
Loop rewind play, walk a different path and laugh at the broken bridged gaps
Feel the rhythm of disturbed strings dragged.
I have become the victim of your screeching
I am the piece of something that visits the correlation of a masterpiece
Play the barren sound to an open source brainwave suffer the weak buffered truth
Feel the eardrum ring hand out a scorched twisted tongue tired of talking about nothing
Tolerate the dependence of a derelict falsified significance relating to the complexion beneath
You get what you see. But some things change miraculously.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 3:57 AM UTC
I curled up into a song you sent me
I've thought about running the backs
of my fingers down your face
and how your eyes would find mine
I think I first loved you in the spring even though we were still wearing our coats
no one in my life is like you
one constant brainwave of you roars
through my head
and I still don't understand why
you're like this
my chest hurts every time I don't see you
my chest hurts because my heart is in it
I want you to have my heart, and my heart aches because it's more than ready to meet yours
you've captured me in your hands
and on your phone's camera
I never felt like this before you
there is no one like you
there is no one like you
there is no one like you
with you I'm ethereal,
it's all I can feel
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 5:23 PM UTC
Burn ancient burn on the sweet child's
Eyes
For he has yet to conquer the world
And his father's rhymes.
He won't rhyme though he is free
And like all free men
The ancient roar will smile in his face
Pure as a flower
Proud as the sun
Soft as the rain.
Electrifying like a brainwave
He shall surpass his fathers
And build his own empire
Where he shall perish
Yet free as his son too will be,
Dreaming in clouds of fire.
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 7:17 PM UTC
A prayer for Christchurch
A prayer for Islam
A prayer for the blind
Who can’t see
It’s love we need
Under all the skin
Deep
A prayer
For love
A prayer for me
A prayer
For the quiet Volcano under
the sea
Quiet as a mute
May you Rise
May you Reign
A prayer
Again and again
A prayer
A meditation
A Brainwave
Right for the mainframe
Right to peace
Walking in it’s sleep
A prayer
So that it may wake and speak
Turn the world
Shuffle it’s feet
A prayer
A golden leaf
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 2:29 PM UTC