"cipher" poems
Gentlemen of Courage and Ladies of Excellence,
Toast to stolen prayers with rarer player’s hands;
Soft in defiant laughter,
when drinking their wine from the bowels of brines
Sing along the Ballads of Heritage with Melodies of Exception;
Boast, not a breathe,
though sullen heirs ghost to fairer wearer’s air(s) of land—
A settlement of Rapture and Resurrection, arid, amid dirt and sand
and King and thy Kingdom sprout flowering tomb, and rosebud temple reach to the sky during the showers of spring
Devours the crescent Moon
in big pink petals of bloom;
A garden so fertile
it could look pretty in wartime—
with Gardeners of Courage and Laborers of Excellence;
(Lapse, not into digressions of Being and Essence
but hands in the soil and planting the actions of kingdom come,
patient building of Spring Reign sure
as the flame, the architect of rising Sun is
(Daughters and Sons of kingdom came,
the soldier in a land been conquered and named; abandoned
for the greenness of hope.
)May it never come, Be All The Same; (
be gentle, though whispering wind)
Seeds of Nextyear and the spores of Awhile,
carried by the Wasps and the Clouds
To the Gentlemen of Excellence and Ladies of Courage,
illuminated, eyes from the flora of stars faraway forest floor of foreign
fears,
as the hungry Owls of Time prepare a final feast—
Consume the years between Here and Now;
Watching from blank perch, among
the Trees of Afterall; a place beyond expectance.
Sing the branches of experience, to wake
in Siren’s cipher; inelegant forms
of waking,
ugly sleep on rocks of seabed; once was aboard a marooned skyline—
Those Who Are Will Be
again, again a serf in a wave of Time’s refraction. Neverending neverbeginning;
Those Gentlemen of Courage and Ladies of Excellence,
on the Day That Is, arrays of seers sayers doers displayers
optimists and pessimists, toast to them
and their rarer player’s hands,
Boast they, not a breathe, though sullen heirs ghost
to fairer wearer’s air and land;
Laugh and howl and dine, they drink their wine
from disemboweled gourds
of their own divine—
Warped, in jowls of hungry fix,
no feast they fear, for they prey to the Owls of Time.
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC
I took a trip
I took a look
That tree could read me
Like a book
And open me
Like a library
Cipher in the
Sanctuary
Deeper
Still deeper
Inside the place
Where secret
Knowledge hides
The twin snakes ladder
Necklace chain
Make life by any
Other name
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 3:16 PM UTC
One flash, frozen in light,
The burning of her eyes
Fell my sprocketed night,
Deep in flames shudder,
All language, new, cipher,
Filmy frame, truest colours.
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 12:54 AM UTC
One flash, frozen in light,
The burning of her eyes
Fell my sprocketed night,
Deep in flames shudder,
All language, new, cipher,
Filmy frame, truest colours.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
1099
My Cocoon tightens—Colors tease—
I’m feeling for the Air—
A dim capacity for Wings
Demeans the Dress I wear—
A power of Butterfly must be—
The Aptitude to fly
Meadows of Majesty implies
And easy Sweeps of Sky—
So I must baffle at the Hint
And cipher at the Sign
And make much blunder, if at least
I take the clue divine—
8.7k
people **** people
with nothing but fingers and hair
and their very heavy breath.
their breath like a crow beak
before crucifixes of straw. like a tightening banishment of a lung.
remember when we would blow it
onto our car window and create that
consistent mirth of fog to
begin in?
the bodies riddled with bullets that flank
the highway are no such thing.
the schoolchildren lying face down in the corner of the closet are no such thing.
they are just winter coats with schoolchildren to fill them
for the time being.
no amputation of what’s mine
will aid them into the grave.
no mass communication grief. so
why would you call it a mass grave when in truth it was just a pit i dug to fill with crowds of people who died under the pretense that they had previously done so,
that nothing was new under the sun.
and when people **** people like people
do with their instruments
as ways of extending themselves into the world and into the marrow of our body
obliterating organs of people with their stretching of the muscular rib, shoulder.
one eye closes firmly.
it’s nothing but a hand gun
as if to say a hand eats the gun
and makes it whole.
as if to say the reinforced metal door
exit plan for people who are being killed by other people clicked shut and locked
15,000 years ago and i can’t quit slamming what’s left of me into it.
your kid is very dead.
but then again so is mine.
suppose they killed each other.
suppose they both made the mistake of dragging their small, stupid bodies through the trajectory of another body in the first place. in the chip aisle of a gas station maybe. in theaters this christmas.
in the midst of a good song that began playing on the lobby radio
just a minute before,
oh yeah before,
things really got going.
i saw people killing people
on television the other day
with their
whole bodies,
devouring themselves like surgical gloves
slick with oiled consumption
and bleeding out
and i could do nothing.
some kids died just because
and they told me so and i was told nothing could ever help them because they were just people and they were dying.
“breaking news” ended up just being people again.
in those moments, i was eating breakfast.
our houses were very quiet and needed me in all of them, grandfather clock over CNN, clarifying what has already been
committed and committed again.
the cipher was others lost blood.
Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 12:24 AM UTC
One flash, frozen in light,
The burning of her eyes
Fell my sprocketed night,
Deep in flames shudder,
All language, new, cipher,
Filmy frame, truest colours.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 3:47 PM UTC
One flash, frozen in light,
The burning of her eyes
Fell my sprocketed night,
Deep in flames shudder,
All language, new, cipher,
Filmy frame, truest colours.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 1:53 PM UTC
Neither in the vividness of the arches of a cathedral,
Nor in the dangling bells and echoing rituals of a temple,
Neither on the holiest banks of Nile or Ganges,
Nor among the peaks of the grandest Mountain,
There is no augury, there is no God, is there no God? And if there is,
Why are the eyes of lives haunted by the cruel dreams of disbelief?
Why is banishment tangled around the feet of a truth seeker?
Why the perverse thoughts and deeds ruling the Mankind?
Why the pious body and mind are today full of grief?
If there’s God, Why is this sea of cold blood on a high tide?
If there’s God, Why are the innocent lives being wasted?
If there’s God, Why are the good being handcuffed?
If there’s God, Why the darkness is today the source of light?
The slaps of violence on the face of peace is a sign of doom,
If there’s no God, then these drops of bloods cry for whom?
But GOD is that moment which is beyond knowledge and wit,
That one cipher which has taken centuries and yet not deciphered,
That one point of thought where the minds seize to think,
That one decision which stops a man from giving up,
That one drop of tear from the eyes of an Oppressed,
That one source of energy which makes us to take a stand,
That one voice of truth which demolishes the works of lie,
That one smile of innocence which equals a million shouts,
That one silver lining which makes us believe in ourselves,
Calls Aloud and makes us believe, that there is A GOD,
And He’s Everywhere, With everyone, and Will always be.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 7:33 AM UTC
With my blind eyes I seek.
A reason why all I see from what I cannot see,
fills my cup of feelings with enormity
A being that guides me to peoples souls,
in order for me to feel the ones I had the inability to see.
Living in this cipher...
I seek my blind eyes.
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 12:24 AM UTC
~~~@
**a maze of tunnels
under blacktop
a poesy of lilies dark as dusk
a bette noir drawn on
charcoal paper
an elephant's carcass
sans his tusk
the negative without a cipher
the poem written in the dark
the Good Book without a cover
the human blood that
draws the shark
as i sit here
twilight's falling
i'll sit here in the failing light
i'll sit here looking at black rainbows
til my heart bleeds its last goodnight**
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
*Feelin’ like a new model keepin’ thoughts in a safe
Nothin’ but new beginnings while maintainin’ the faith
Of better days ahead, walkin’ away instead
The world on my shoulders while walkin’ on eggshells
Difficult steps lead to redemption, no need for attention
Dowsin’ my sorrows in drinks with a fear of reinvention
Weakened souls lackin’ ambition – ones that we attend to
Distracted by the means to makin’ profit
Pharaohs and kings reach Ozymandias
Castle of the manliest reduced to rubble
Inspiration's a privilege, the uninitiated struggle
Lookin’ to the stars closer to Mercury
Celebrating longer than a single anniversary
Build the padlocked building blocks of the brain, preventin’ burglary
Intellect protection needs remedial advancement
Followin' the lessons and morals of real testaments
Crimson waters divided by Moses, halving the sea
Aidin’ people across, the shepherd leadin’ the sheep
Heated cycle of violence by disciples
De-escalated by the sacred teachings of the bible
Able to color-code their understandin’ with a cipher
Gifted in nature, minus robotics turnin’ sentient*
WE MARCH!
*Hand-in-hand in unison! A unit full of sin
But we protect the world from Judases,
Our doubts are in the wind
A state of peace we feel the crew is in
The rest will follow soon,
Our inner voice of hate is ludicrous
It sings a hollow tune.
Leavin' this place without askin' just where the exit is,
Keep a steady pace as we're headin' right into exodus.
Lessons are taught to help you rise from the fall,
Nirvana awaitin' – you better answer the call.*
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
A mystery nobody wants to decipher,
Cloaked in shadow and words,
In experience and hurt.
A riddle with no clear cipher.
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 1:24 AM UTC
I know a writer
She seems like quite the fighter
her arms and legs are covered in scars
But her eyes are so full of stars
I know a writer
Whose future couldn't be brighter
that always seems so sad
Or maybe just a bit mad
I know a writer
Who couldn’t shoot higher
She always looks up on her strolls
For the sky holds all her goals
I know a writer
Sleepless over her typewriter
She often falls asleep in class
But, she has a smile that could cut glass
I know a writer
Who frequents the overnighter
Sleep to her is a foreign ideal
She knows not how it can heal
I know a writer
Who is quick to tire
An hour or two
It’s ever so true
I know a writer
Who's not an outsider
So full of compassion
She runs with a faction
I know a writer
And she's kinda a whiner
Loud and proud
Much like a storm cloud
I know a writer
She's nothing more than a cipher
With her secret codes
Hidden in all of her odes
I know a writer
Who couldn’t be nicer
Always smiling at strangers
She's a real game changer
I know a writer
Who fights like a tiger
She’s stronger than most
But she isn’t one to boast
I know a writer
Who bites like a viper
She can be malignant
But only if you’re distant
I know a writer
And this may seem minor
But her vivid imagination
leads to the beauty of creation
I know a writer
Who couldn’t be wiser
With a heart for spoken word
Though she’s often left unheard
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 6:11 AM UTC
Before I knocked and flesh let enter,
With liquid hands tapped on the womb,
I who was as shapeless as the water
That shaped the Jordan near my home
Was brother to Mnetha's daughter
And sister to the fathering worm.
I who was deaf to spring and summer,
Who knew not sun nor moon by name,
Felt thud beneath my flesh's armour,
As yet was in a molten form
The leaden stars, the rainy hammer
Swung by my father from his dome.
I knew the message of the winter,
The darted hail, the childish snow,
And the wind was my sister suitor;
Wind in me leaped, the hellborn dew;
My veins flowed with the Eastern weather;
Ungotten I knew night and day.
As yet ungotten, I did suffer;
The rack of dreams my lily bones
Did twist into a living cipher,
And flesh was snipped to cross the lines
Of gallow crosses on the liver
And brambles in the wringing brains.
My throat knew thirst before the structure
Of skin and vein around the well
Where words and water make a mixture
Unfailing till the blood runs foul;
My heart knew love, my belly hunger;
I smelt the maggot in my stool.
And time cast forth my mortal creature
To drift or drown upon the seas
Acquainted with the salt adventure
Of tides that never touch the shores.
I who was rich was made the richer
By sipping at the vine of days.
I, born of flesh and ghost, was neither
A ghost nor man, but mortal ghost.
And I was struck down by death's feather.
I was a mortal to the last
Long breath that carried to my father
The message of his dying christ.
You who bow down at cross and altar,
Remember me and pity Him
Who took my flesh and bone for armour
And doublecrossed my mother's womb.
1.9k
an interstellar vacuum
is far from empty,
all the water in the universe
is melted comets,
and it floods all reason.
bloodstar from afar
or Cape Canaveral close,
no astral projection there,
only a cipher in a foreign quadrant
until...teardrops,
big, wet, unsympathetic drops.
hear it now!
the sonic boom of
marooned tourism,
in short shots,
fast cuts,
horizonal eddy currents
ripe with thorns,
like lakes of suspicion,
if God is listening
then this mission is in trouble.
downcycled planet in the wires
and cigarette lighters,
a home without space,
Andromeda chained in sacrifice
to sate the monster,
her punishing beauty
cascading over the peril
that everything in the universe
is recyclable – even you!
Sep 22, 2022
Sep 22, 2022 at 12:14 PM UTC
She is the typesetter’s “e”
The once-rounded uncial script,
Unbroken like the solemn vow of a monk,
His whisper, a shepherd of words under the cowl,
Murmurations of the Holy Mother to the lambswool shroud of candlelight.
His candle-flock of dreams to some hill of penitent towers, war-cowed
And broken open like faith-unfended helmets, littering the ground,
With their unspeaking tassels in babbling pagan sound of wind,
That hill too, once-rounded bare under the glittering apostles of twilight.
In the abbeywork of air, calligraphy was a cipher of souls,
He unwrested demons from an inkwell of sunsets, smothered them in blotting paper,
Freed the incarnate whole to the book of hours, nib-pointed in quills and illuminated in gold,
Line by line, in Carolingian winding sheets, he returned the misshapen to the fold,
To the carpet page of home and the warm ligatures of their waiting women.
So the shutters of the heavenly house could blow light in slanted rays to a wilderness in storm.
But he never tamed the aero-elongated, descender of Troy in a “t,”
He never knew the unholiness of the underscore or fonts as ******
Or the world unwilling to know itself in serif robes of ancient lore.
His life was a simple rounded-out syllable of one man,
Left in the muddied, unintelligible text of faith and war.
She is the typesetter’s “e” and now belongs to any hand.
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 9:21 PM UTC
As skylarks departed
At rue in sorrow; --
Broke me half-hearted
From sever tears
And narrow --
Narrow, of my fears,
Which lolls
To the broken lily
That un-rolls
Her half-winged angels --
Wan and chilly,
To the pinions of the angels
Frore and chilly --
As skylarks departed
In tint of pearl;
Iris skies started
To sever the years
Of a little girl
That frolic wind swirl --
And lolls
To the broken lily
That un-rolls
Her half-winged angels --
Wan and chilly,
To the pinions of the angels
Frore and chilly --
As skylarks departed
In butterfly hue;
Spread far plumes parted
From severing peers,
With gossamer and dew
Drip upon me too.
And on it lolls
To the broken lily
That un-rolls
Her half-winged angels --
Wan and chilly,
To the pinions of the angels
Frore and chilly --
As skylarks departed,
Birds they cipher
Once were all parted
For sever cheers
They decipher
The stream of a sad lifer
That so lolls
To the broken lily
That un-rolls
Her half-winged angels --
Wan and chilly,
To the pinions of the angels
Frore and chilly --
When skylarks dis-hearted
Of a sussurous stream
Follow with rue darted
In my sever tears,
I've bled to cry and scream
As flown pass a dream.
And thus so lolls
To the broken lily
(As skylarks departed)
That un-rolls
(And broke me half-hearted)
Her half-winged angels --
Wan and chilly,
(From sever tears)
To the pinions of the angels
Frore and chilly --
(And shallow, of my fears)
Jul 4, 2011
Jul 4, 2011 at 11:22 AM UTC
aware of my body
as if my body
is on a raft.
a creaky deceit
I call
rafting in the ****
last night in a very safe garage
I promised a friend
I’d mention
the moon
in the period following
my last
idea.
my body eats me.
god dangles the body of my son
in front of my son’s
next
memory.
some are born
born-again.
current trends include cloning.
the first person to recall dying
will be held aloft.
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 3:55 PM UTC
Got home from the hospital late last night
Still can't seem to find my appetite
I can't seem to sit still
There's a hole that I don't know how to fill
I've listened to my ipod non stop
Headphones so loud I feel my ears are gonna pop
The dice will fall as they may
But at the end of the day
I know that they were always loaded
I feel like my life has always been encoded
Protected by a cipher I could never completely break
I never truly understood what was at stake
Until that day last week
When you and I were hanging by the creek
We were laughing and tossing rocks
Just relaxing having good long talks
When my vision started to go hazy
and I know this is crazy
But i knew then that I was dying
And you started crying
I felt a sharp tightening in my chest
I lost consciousness as the attack progressed
I woke up in my hospital bed
The doctors told me that I should be dead
They used phrases like "suffered major cardiac event"
I asked what that meant
I told me that I had a heart attack
I was immediately taken aback
I was only seventeen
This was almost something that was unseen
Arrhythmia was the name of the disease
They said it was easy to manage with medicine and their expertise
But now I can no longer rest
Knowing that I have ticking time bomb in my chest
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC
the defense of your legacy manifested into strings of saccharin
and phrases like ‘Come on in from the rain. We all need a torrent to own the storm, just- take off your clothes, don’t mind Kierkegaard.’
your sincerity is a cipher
you’re something of a conversation piece between good friends
who were artfully made of pre-engineered steel on a day Jove tremored in his bed
you’re something postured beneath a javelin
and likewise- something propelled for decorum
blackguard, black coffee and a birthmark turned into a running joke.
inevitable.
you searched the bottoms of summer pools
and found no discernible trace of your history
her sable crown whips back and forth in your head
and you maintain the chaos with aureate cries of preservation
it’s a halcyon boom, a lonely and sexless halcyon boom
it makes every yellow and red dress chimerical
it makes your neck unassailable
drugstore cowboy
they got close enough
to see you sweat
to note that heat and her magnificence could purge as quick as they reinstate
and you still beat
like they do
stubbornly.
Oct 17, 2011
Oct 17, 2011 at 10:20 AM UTC
I always thought that my mind was like the universe, limitless.
Seems like I can't shake you off my mind, I'm thinking you're the best.
So when the world ends, you can escape into my galaxy.
You could use up all my resources and take every part of me.
And when the tide gets high, I'll give you my last breath
Let the water crash by, together we can outlast the pressure.
And if mountains crumble, you'll always be on top
I would never let you fall, give you support nonstop.
So let's ignite this love, it is what I only desire.
It would never be cold, I'm your friction to your fire.
Your tough attitude impelled this cipher.
You wanted to leave because I harmed my safety.
I was ready to jump off Earth, but your words of lucid air saved me.
And for that I owe you my world, in fact you already have it.
Your essence is a hundred percent pure of my element.
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 1:23 AM UTC
Ya,
I got my limits
Been here since
hell and back
breathless from carrying Blood and flesh
Bone-World curved to welcome back
Shape-dependent gimmicks tracing
fresh tension lines followed right on track.
Invisible Limits..... / / / / .......
Can't see em, so I cant follow back
Right on track, tongue-tied and strapped up
with a strep throat still, its my turn to step up
else Lady luck might step back, all clammed up
**** I Just hoping this note will...
Curse hope, bless action
See its My cipher to rap now
My meaning to unpack; but how?
Courage and Care is a fact plowed
Strength in the face of what we can bear
Samsara, its a Wheel of time turning back now
The only time I show me limits is always
Vulnerable. still hanging in ghetto hallways
Your place safe and sound, you need but call me
I show me, I mean all ME. I mean All Men, I mean Amen. Ah man...
Living shadow, ghost abode, the heart just saying love me
love me, love me, love me, lord. Keep me warm.
I've never been so cold as looking at the tribe
around the fire's with that fine glow.
Where Freezing feels like final.
breathless from carrying
Bone, Blood and Flesh, flush chested
Do your best, Dont love any less
See your smile, its a breath
to me ...(and Im swimming seas till im Seasick, waves painting a scene sick)
Those curves like Pieces of music,
Kicking hard as I can swimming like im Sea-kick
movement aligned to life and death.
my hide or hair, which can these save?
Music lines and strings of words, its like church to all of us
You see its Cake or death
not willing to lose it, like the chirps of birds seem to follow up
as the morning fights for breath.
Feb 14, 2022
Feb 14, 2022 at 7:52 PM UTC
The imbalance on my rivals
Shows the lack of knowledge
Can not compete against me,
Elevated in enlightenment / of vivid devotion...
Solitary thoughts made me bias,
Cipher rivals got me satire -
Y'all know my chicness, can't compare.
I am emitted to make a decision,
I will not give none my "treasure chest",
I will take a chance and risk my on,
Facing my decision it's a funny feeling...
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 5:48 PM UTC
This song is written on my heart.
Each note hangs in the air before turning to smoke
and we inhale it here in your little bed,
breathe it in as we have most nights since you were born.
Not so long ago
I was someone else
Who was not your mother.
You don’t know her,
the Me who spent months of her young life poring over the sheet music.
I still have it, teenage pencil scratch covering the entire first movement.
“Sticky top notes” and “written when he was going deaf!” and rows of chord forms,
glyphs,
a cipher.
(Did you know:
Beethoven was dead when Ludwig Rellstab compared the famous first movement of his Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp minor to moonlight shining on a lake?
The sonata previously entitled “Quasi una fantasia.” Almost a fantasy.
The sonata written in blood from a broken body and a broken heart.
Poor dead Beethoven. Our art is truly not our own).
It strikes me odd
that a song such as this one
has become what it has become.
Radiance in despair, I suppose,
is universal in its bright raw frankness.
We stare. It stares back.
Tonight, blessedly,
that chasm of grief alive still and forever in the delicate weaving vines of plaintive melody stemming darkly from it
is far from your door.
Your breaths are slow and even now.
The song closes,
as it always does,
trying and failing to claw out of the darkness.
But you don’t know that.
Tonight it’s just a beautiful song.
And I am no one else
but your mother.
Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 1:25 AM UTC