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"celerity" poems
the ebb and tide of diamond waves slosh in the most serene celerity. it is then that i know i am safe. i lie in the ocean's arms, and become a grain of sand, until your song is sent my way and i crystallize. oh i am a pearl, born from pain. your timbre plays melodies on my heartstrings, siren. your beauty shadowboxes with my soul, siren. i am not yours to keep, siren. i am the tidecaller and i have a place. but oh siren, why must you sing when i want to sleep? why must you sing when i want to weep? oh, siren, take my soul to keep. no longer my sea. sea of sirens, sea of song. your song always lets me know that i mustn't tag along.
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Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 10:34 AM UTC
siren
Here's a thought, Don't know if I ought, What's faster than thought? Thought momentum, Like acceleration, Concept velocity, Thought rapidity, Thinking celerity... Upon reflection, Thought momentum, Is it the speed of light? Thoughts so bright, Here's a thought, What's faster than thought?
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Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 5:51 PM UTC
THE SPEED OF THOUGHT...
1437 A Dew sufficed itself— And satisfied a Leaf And felt “how vast a destiny”— “How trivial is Life!” The Sun went out to work— The Day went out to play And not again that Dew be seen By Physiognomy Whether by Day Abducted Or emptied by the Sun Into the Sea in passing Eternally unknown Attested to this Day That awful Tragedy By Transport’s instability And Doom’s celerity.
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2.5k
A Dew sufficed itself—
It’s work, this wailing, a daily occupation. Alongside the light-rail A ghost bike, a placard, a quickening in the blood. Murmur, breathe myself to sleep, fleece this feeling, Blue skies somewhere and yeah, life goes on. I struggle to wake, my sharpest knife slides along this peach’s stone, scoop this flesh, devour. Crepuscular light, Fecundity of life, Lacerate this daytime cut through with dim. Celerity of dusk, and with it this gloaming, My quidnunc neighbor seals ear to wall to trace my hitching breaths from air. But it’s tomorrow now and it is warm in Paranoia Park. This violinist, though hardly Paganini, embroiders sound onto sound. His bow draws a frisson along my spine, my nerves His strings, vibration, shimmering, a shock, a flush. This moment: a reprieve, my coffee break from grief. All the trees are turning orange. The days all turn to sleep.
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Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 3:52 PM UTC
Grief
Swanky sauntering swagger of a sashay.  Verve’s chutzpah, moxie savvy's panache, dexterously agile acuity.  Articulate coordinated excellence and prowess’s talented exceptional.  Objectified manifest's eidetic prospectus's invertible investiture's infinite possibilities perpetrate incorporeity ideology's perfectible ontology!    Intrepid intuitive intrigue, mystical magical multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis.  Malfeasance evocative tout, execrating eventuation evocative expletives, executant tour de force entelechy's apotheosis.  Ne plus ultra irrefragable opulence, erudite illuminism numinous piquant poignancy.  Dynamic livid lurid vagile puissance.  Lucid orotund sonorous fecund resilience.   Eloquent exuberance felicitous transcendent epiphany.  Nuance tactile audacious preternatural metaphysical clairvoyant imperative.  Augur quantum ominous avant-garde profundity, virulent vivid indomitably indefatigable cogent fatidic, quintessential deft.  Celerity innovative veracious metamorphic, adroit nimble avid austere.  Fulgurous astute atman clever crafty rapacious sagacious.  Effulgent zealous fastuous temerity machismo enunciation diction, imperative repartee.  Exserted protuberance educement proclivities succinctly ostentatious.  Ardent arduous inductive adamant incursion ostensible hornswoggling swashbuckler!
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Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 2:55 AM UTC
Hubris
i am in love with the sky and his crown of ichor and heart of plenty. i am taken by love with the every day shock. it is to be in love, that you relish in his every heartbeat - many. i am in that love that makes me perpetually walk. he slings a spear of singularity, i am to be noticed. but he is in the sky of celerity, and i am grounded. i take the golden light all at once. the sun will never set in my soul. the heavens part and leave an abyss, the longing for his static lashes makes my sun itch for his crackling discharge of power. oh how i miss ! the arc and flow of his lightning whip. i hold my sun to the sky. its celestial light shall carry me high. king of killers, teller of lies! heed the angels' song of wry. i am the storm, and this time i am also the eye.
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Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 9:24 PM UTC
thunderball
Starlight floating on a hot summer night Photons escape from a coronal mass ejection The speed is incredible Warp 1, 671 million miles per hour the C in e=mc^2 Celerity
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Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
Warp Speed
It will be fine with me If I finally end up to be An annoying buzzing bee In the ear of a society Sated on complacency And gluttonous dependency On the masters of larceny. It is for the future to see If the rhymes that come from me Help heal the national infamy That passes for propriety When the heads of society Treat celebrity notoriety As conditions of acceptability And even some kind of laudability. With sad and appalling sincerity, Maddening sycophantic celerity And unfortunate lack of probity; And what seems to be jocularity All pretense of care or integrity The villains in Washington DC So constantly convince me That we need my kind of poetry.
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Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 2:18 PM UTC
ALLITERATION NATION
Standing in crimson flowers, hands soaked in hatred, what it seems like hours, the anger has not faded. Smell of bad cologne in the air. Blood lust unable to bare. No more moments to spare. To find their addicting lair. Running with speed and friction, burning flowers quickly bloom, bodies start piling in their tomb, a sole ticket to destruction. The heat of burning organs. The music of screaming fortunes. Ash hands and their contortions. Faces sculpted in distortions. There are bones in this zen garden. Remainders of a hasty bargain, for revenge, a heart, hardened. and redemption it's last warden. Speed created friction in my veins. Happiness burned amidst the flames. Now free from hate's chains. Loneliness is what remains.
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Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 6:17 AM UTC
Scarlet Celerity
Encircling...I dare the Full-- pluck eyes from their nooks, mind from its niche. I, incumbent of all lines drawn and crossed...wear the metaphoric face of All Things. My redundant farewell is a galactic backlog....as memory asks: may I be excused from these tables? By light's celerity, light all the more... One in One, and out of One in One-- foreknowledge to Knowledge. Encircling...I dare the Full--emissary to mine own circle, with news so pressing I stumble into deaths cut to new forms of life. I waver my convalescence, discharge myself from the throes of creation... a gladdened prophecy...self-fulfilled. Encircling...I dare the Full.
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Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 2:21 AM UTC
Encircling, I Dare the Full
His mother was suicidal His father was patricidal His siblings all fratricidal They fractured his parietal. His acumen was impractical While his mien was didactical His morals were retractible And his religion was heretical. He longed to be a celebrity And wished for its celerity To skip the serendipity And fork over his luminosity. But it seems that synchronicity Paired up with idiosyncrasy In a natural form of complicity And waylaid him with complicity. He moaned that he was qualified And not the least bit mollified To be so soundly criticized That they could not recognize By those who were so glassy eyed A plenipotentiary, very wise Who appears before their very eyes Who they would gladly plagiarize Even while they ostracize. He can’t achieve equanimity When so many hold their enmity And treat him so outrageously In ignoring his magnanimity. After all, is there anyone living Who is so astoundingly forgiving Than he by the simple act of giving And letting them go on living?
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Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 8:02 PM UTC
WALLY WORDSALAD
Once  again a  visitor rises  amongst our  shady lea,  a wayfarer  sprung from  a ceaseless  throng: now  accustom him,  ye maiden  with unborn                  young. One  so calm  as to  hum some  rosy melody,  whose uncorrupted  harmony secretly  goes in  thru the  eclipsed valley,  which may  not with  it's abstained  motion befit,  but meditating  inertly, he  summons your  sympathy, so  adored, to  reply kindly  to his   drunken   fit. And  when thy  beam arising "softly  lit" in  pallid outline, (for the dawn's coming in celerity,) the  stranger shall  sleep upon  hearing your  rhyme, choosing  a thorny  bed to  rest his  head with  aimless temerity. You  see, we  receive them  as our  guests for  but one  hour -no  more,  no  less- and  only in  the month of May, then  tug at  their ears  and hit  them on  their heads, and  send them  on their                way!
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Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
Our Shady Lea
As I sit . . . green leaves hang . . . motionless . . . ~our earth spins on it's axis over a thousand miles per hour~ As I watch . . . adagio grasses bow in repose . . . ~our earth orbits the sun over sixty-six thousand miles per hour~ As I rest . . . vinca vines trail unruffled . . . ~our solar system whirls around the milky-way over five-hundred thousand miles per hour~ As I wonder . . . flowers pose placid and serene ~our milky-way hurls headlong over a million miles per hour~ In my garden . . . stillness reigns resolute . . . amidst this unimaginable tempestuous maelstrom I am called to witness this defiance; this static anarchy against the universe's irresistible momentum I am surrounded by leafy verdure in stock-still solidarity; blossoms colored with un-budged boldness and tendriled vines in composed contempt I am called to witness this unperturbed mutiny against torrid irascible forces As I sit . . . musing on this peaceful anarchy I think on He . . . that humble anarchist waging peace against war love against hate grace against revenge His submissive cheek immovable against brutish forces I sit . . . peacefully content in my garden of Eden unmoved . . . by the celerity of this careening world geo.vuy 2015
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Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 6:48 PM UTC
Stillness Amidst Maelstrom
In a faraway place and faraway time stood square a cabin rotted pine and bramble flue. Once haven for old crones craven - their skins thin-skinned slivers of brine; now nary a soot line marked a witches' brew. In the dark, swirling silver stark and creatures would quiver held over pot-stew thither, along hymns of damning chanted. Waggled tongues with an evil glaze would slither, cursing in eye, toe, and liver the bubbling broth decanted. Oh a malkin giggled and a paddock piggled; sniggled in a mirth-marked cauldron's rubble double bubble. With a whoosh and a swish a bony finger had wiggled, as papery skin withered the drubble swuddle brubble. On those blackest of nights, when wolves would fear the moon, howls held loomed, choked on down the throat of dusk. Hatred uttered its sleepy breath, pitch-entombed and justice marooned under a tar most brusque. Shadows danced incantation for an occultish creation, oh the devil's bidding be done! Flamed carnation, neither here nor there god-fearing, cackling a primrose coronation; the stirring spoon spun! Death-catcher chimes hung close upon the entry; a dust since turn of century marred bone; witches’ wart-encrusted noses crinkled at gentry; chenille voices sung with celerity a hellish praise: Divinum Occultum. A little duende ran down the cauldron, gloom chanting a chant come out with a hurl. Burnt feet chasing away all ghosts ‘n goblins, unfurling like whisper from the concoction: Doom upon all the world.
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Dec 1, 2024
Dec 1, 2024 at 6:26 AM UTC
Death-Catcher Chimes
People so sedative in repetitive ways copy pasta smoke like Rasta in competitive daze now they knowing negative and executive plays white knuckle bled to the bone scratching for raise hit the glass pipe , noid and scratching for days is this normal or am I just craze people lose they job family and daughter leave me amazed the state of the world so far from celerity when I'm gone remember me in the rain remember when synchronicity was never rarity zen prime outta reach what happened to the  brain drain countless countries shouting carry me while the US of We try to maintain stupidity will get you killed but intelligence will get you ****** up humility spill, wet gut guilt negligence that safety scissors won't cut through the pall in the air transmit signals to powered tablets while people taking pharma tablets like powdered maggots necrophy the inside  , stealing life like bandits! stealing life like bandits, necrophy the inside .... RUN!
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Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
stagnant culture// स्थिर संस्कृति//
I saw a dance today That whirled and jumped and laughed on its feet. An old folk dance Kalidescopic roiling upon a cool breath Of autumn’s excitement of being alive A dance observed by a reflective summer Gamboling leaves of red, orange, ambers and browns Phrenetic leaping twirling jumping flipping And landing with glee I saw a dance today Whose steely precision punctured the earth An operatic ending Piling blue-ice masses on frost annealed soil Of winter’s excitement on being, of existence Impervious to life, alive with death Hard percusive articulation, blunt statement Tap, tap, beat and pound Thud and thrum with efficient punctuated finesse I did a dance today Tears and sorrow and sonorous wings flailing Old and intimate Terminus found rhythm stand still, now done Of winter no more, and blindness onset, for the morrow Moves stopped but not so its ripples Wave celerity, an expanding profound smile Leg, arm and head pause While all effects and causes silently, strongly take wing Take wing A cacaophonic stirring, but quiet and motionless and brimming with void Except in spirt where muscle and wings and winds alight anew. I did a final dance today, spirit born and coda bent.
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Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 7:57 PM UTC
The Last Dance
Your promises are oxidizing And they are almost as honest as your eyes My grin is slight weak at the knees that buckle and bulge as if to mutter a dismal Plea and beyond the creaking window where foliage cankers and boughs ***** buds like helpless infants There Is You. You that drapes Nirvana with seeds seeds that rip and skewer and vacate like parasites with their weeds that sprout with haste And thou is a plague that ravages without pity With Your Roots that reek of desperate wails And although I am conquered And still somewhat small I will trudge through your vapid regrets With celerity
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Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
011.
Swanky sauntering swagger of a sashay. Verve’s chutzpah, moxie savvy's panache, dexterously agile acuity. Articulate coordinated excellence and prowess’s talented exceptional. Objectified manifest's dimensional delineation's eidetic prospectus' invertible investiture's infinite possibilities perpetrate incorporeity ideology's perfectible ontology! Intrepid intuitive intrigue, mystical magical multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis. Malfeasance evocative tout, execrating eventuation evocative expletives, executant tour de force entelechy's apotheosis. Ne plus ultra irrefragable opulence, erudite illuminism numinous piquant poignancy. Dynamic livid lurid vagile puissance. Lucid orotund sonorous fecund resilience. Eloquent exuberance felicitous transcendent epiphany. Nuance tactile audacious preternatural metaphysical clairvoyant imperative. Augur quantum ominous avant-garde profundity, virulent vivid indomitably indefatigable cogent fatidic, quintessential deft. Celerity innovative veracious metamorphic, adroit nimble avid austere. Fulgurous astute atman clever crafty rapacious sagacious. Effulgent zealous fastuous temerity machismo enunciation diction, imperative repartee. Exserted protuberance educement proclivities succinctly ostentatious. Ardent arduous inductive adamant incursion ostensible hornswoggling swashbuckler!
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Feb 22, 2024
Feb 22, 2024 at 11:41 PM UTC
Hubris
It was a sudden impulse that directed me to stir myself and remove a well-thumbed dusty volume from its shelf. I opened it with fingers that lacked the youthful dexterity before osteo-arthritis had curbed celerity. I started to turn pages with a reminiscence of delight until becoming bothered by its, failure to excite. What is the cause of this despair the loss of Nature’s circuit board, a fevered stirring in the ***** fails to be restored. Must I now accept as fact that there are simply no springs left in my body’s potency? Is all now bereft? Those springs may now be lacking in my physical displays. But please grant a mental Spring in the Autumn of my days.
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Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 5:53 AM UTC
On Last Looking Into the Kama Sutra – a flippancy