"civilizations" poems
Once I undertook a journey,
upon the very face of our entire world.
To view for myself the many pictures,
and written descriptions in all the geography
books and History Classes, National
Geographic magazines and movies seen.
A Quest to see with my own eyes what
I had only experienced second hand.
In my mid twenties, like a dream,
one foot in front of the other,
I went about exploring.
I sniffed and tasted the scents of foreign lands,
Incense, Sage and Frankincense, fish curry,
fried snake and even monkey brains.
Walked in lush Jungle Bush and Desert sands,
Along the shores of Islands and the coasts
of many lands.
Heard the voices of 30 divergent Dialects
and cultures, smiling and laughing with
the families and children of all of them.
Set beside the fires of primitive tribal men,
heard their chants to their gods above, the
moon, stars and the sun, the ocean, the land.
Clapped my hands and moved my feet in
their ancient mystic dances.
Drank their tea, Kava or whatever they shared
grateful for their offered unselfish brotherhood.
Stood on the flanks of the tallest Mountains
in the world, on my toe tips, to try to see the
face of the God of my youthful teachings,
disappointed when I did not see him, or Her.
Found instead an inner tranquility, imparted
to me by Red robbed Monks from within their
chants of Peace and wise earthly enlightenments.
Strolled the cobbled streets of two thousand year
old Cities. Walked among the ruined remnants of
nearly forgotten once great Civilizations.
Explored Modern European Citadels' of wealth and learning.
Over time rode on planes, ships, buses, backs of open trucks,
Horse pulled carts and human drawn rickshaws, taxis, subways,
rented motorcycles and cars. Walked perhaps 1000 miles.
In all a journey of the mind and heart lasting three years.
And why you might ask, "What qualifies you as a pilgrim
of any kind, to travel so far, and wide?"
"What was I looking for, what did I hope to find?"
All indeed, fare questions.
When a boy, I read a simple five word line,
“Seek and thee shall find". Curiosity and
Horizon Lust compelled me.
The next obvious question you might
ask is, after all that; “What did you find?”
That answer is very simple,
I found myself.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 7:14 PM UTC
We've become a
civilization of diseases
we build
monuments
statues
institutions
thinking death won't ever find
us here.
Our minds are scrambled
our bodies are damaged
our food is poisoned
our skies are toxic
our vices
are forces of processes
beyond our
control.
When we are not humbled
by nature's power
we inflict our wounds
upon ourselves in
the names of greed
and self protection
and no one knows
what it really means.
Fearful of the silence
we fill our skies with
endless noise
babbling on in endless
monotones, droning
while traffic stalls
at a hot stand still
idling engines
idling souls
depletion of every last glimpse
of the past.
Jam packed
in the stench
I am lost today
in
this vitriol
as anxiety, death and desperation
from every corner
screams my name.
That's why I came
to these woods
where the illusion of
peace remains
as
wild fires burn
just down the lane
as you know
as you say
its always been this way
when bodies hung
at every cross-roads
hunger, power, ignorance
and strength
all ran
the show.
I'm sick with
every disease I
know.
I float upon these tranquil
blue waters
and
we are reminded of the peace we all
really can know.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 9:26 AM UTC
To future conquering civilizations
in galaxies far far away . . .
don't worry about polluting the air,
our smokestacks have shot dirty-bombs
into the clouds for centuries,
mixing rain drops with the
black grime of industrialization,
transforming our children's tears
into cesspools of sulfuric acid and ddt.
We've also drained the bayous and swamps
and between you and me
don't even bother landing in Africa
there isn't suitable drinking water
for miles, you see.
You can thank years of colonization for that.
In fact, you may not want to land
on Mondays, Tuesdays, or Thursdays
in LA either-
on those days the air quality index
is 175 and far too unhealthy for any
biological organism to survive.
But at least you won't die of malnutrition
you've got decisions:
McDonald's or Burger King
choose
cholesterol and diabetes are your shock troops.
Send them in immediately,
there won't be much resistance
we've got these things call lazy boys
and daytime t.v which have
enslaved the population and decreased
the distance
between fully functioning
human beings and mindless apes.
Don't worry about bringing weapons
we've got those too
we've perfected the art of blowing each other away
there's not much for you to do.
we destroy cities with fire from the sky
and our mushroom clouds rise
at least ten miles high.
And god can't see, there's too much smoke
in his eyes
and our radiated children die
with radiated sighs.
While we are on the topic
don't worry about us spreading
propaganda
we've lost the ability to communicate.
We've learned
books turn a peculiar dark yellow
when lighted and burned.
And forget erasing history,
we've done that too.
Our subjugation of native peoples
is masked as 'patriotism'
under the red, white, and blue.
But don't get me wrong,
I tell you all
of this not to dissuade,
please come and attack,
please come and invade.
Here, I'll even turn
on the lights . . .
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 9:06 PM UTC
Eid in Babylon sits on his high chair, on knees of snow. Grandparents smile for the beloved alleys of Babylon and overlook the mighty Euphrates. Eid in Babylon is a bright face of dawn. Magic smiled on his hands like the hearts of the Babylonians. These civilizations have occurred here, do you not see all these lighthouses and the sounds of eternity? Don't you see dew hearts where lovers' poems here mired in their dreams? At sunset, we will bid farewell to the spirit of rebellion. At sunset, a new Eid will be rise in Babylon.
Jul 31, 2020
Jul 31, 2020 at 3:37 AM UTC
There is a vast Ocean we call the Universe. In it are Galaxies like Plankton. Within them are Stars Systems like Cells. The Stars themselves are like Nuclei, are surrounded by Planets like Ribosomes, Vesicle, Rough and Smooth endoplasmic reticulum, Golgi apparatus, Cytoskeleton, Mitochondria, Vacuole, Cytosol, Lysosome, Centrioles within Centrosome. And sometimes in the planets are Civilizations like Atoms. Within these civilizations are People, some Positive like Protons, some Negative like Electrons, and some who just don't give a **** just like Neutrons. Making every single thing an Important (but Not Better than the other) part of the Whole System.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC
We were interstellar travellers,
children so interested in creating
our infinite microcosmic civilizations,
that we missed it. I saw it,
briefly, once, at night.
We jumped from rock to rock
in the grand pond of the
universe, swam between asteroid reefs
and through the turbulent vents
that were black holes. We
lived everywhere, nowhere,
all at once and for an eternity
at the fringes of galaxies,
and their centres (having burrowed
through the thick skins of dying suns).
We built, advanced, explored,
warred, and coexisted. We knew
everything. We thought.
We knew everything, we thought.
It began as a small blip,
an electromagnetic pulse at the
beginning of time which meta-
imposed itself into the rest of time:
a god, or something of
the sort, it grew and
shrank, and grew and
shrank; a heartbeat--
life. Death.
It ended as a small blip,
an electromagnetic pulse at the
end of time which meta-
imposed itself into the rest of time:
a god, or something of
the sort, it grew and
shrank, and grew and
shrank; a heartbeat--
life. Death.
From the former to the latter,
it sparked creation
and destruction
and advancement
and setback
and belief
and theory
and one
and none.
I saw it,
briefly, once, at night.
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 5:31 PM UTC
They called me Pluto from afar, and I,
Nameless and void, embraced the title
With the force of a thousand burning suns,
Each one like the star I loved ever so dearly,
An immense sphere of fire which had me
Helplessly, hopelessly bound by its gravity,
Caught in its orbit from the beginning of time.
They called me Pluto still from further still,
Speaking my name as the orbit of myself
And their water world drove us apart,
And I gladly, worshipfully rejoiced –
I had a name; I was no longer void.
I was distant still, but they called me Pluto,
And I wore my name like regalia,
A crown upon my lifeless skin.
They called me Pluto still as they
Waded further from the cosmic shore
That was their home, sending probes
That touched the regolith of Mars –
There was life, and light, spreading out from Planet Earth,
So I waited, hoping they’d come for me
Sooner rather than later, tomorrow and not two centuries from now.
They called me Pluto even as they stripped me of my name –
I was ‘planet’ no longer,
And I grew colder and bitterer as I spun,
Because I knew things they did not,
Things about the rise and fall of civilizations.
They did not see what I had seen,
They had not been watching
Since the dawn-time.
They called me Pluto,
And they cried my name
As I watched them burn,
The light of the flickering candle in the dark
That had once been humankind
Flaring, more luminous than the sun for one bright, shining moment,
Then fading.
They called me Pluto in the aftermath,
As if I were the God of the underworld,
Guarding their lost souls from my far-off perch,
Shepherding that which could not be led,
But I was not their God, even if I’d once fathomed them as mine.
So here I wait, patient, eternal, void and barren,
For them to leave me lonely when they no longer
Dare to speak my name from the realm
I am the supposed guardian of;
They called me Pluto.
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 7:46 AM UTC
she is organza and rough, nubbly raw silk
that tears your fingers
and bleeds you purple, sweet.
civilizations rise and fall
in the curve of her mouth.
Feb 23, 2011
Feb 23, 2011 at 8:58 PM UTC
On the beach at night alone,
As the old mother sways her to and fro, singing her husky song,
As I watch the bright stars shining—I think a thought of the clef of the universes, and of the future.
A vast similitude interlocks all,
All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns, moons, planets, comets, asteroids,
All the substances of the same, and all that is spiritual upon the same,
All distances of place, however wide,
All distances of time—all inanimate forms,
All Souls—all living bodies, though they be ever so different, or in different worlds,
All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes—the fishes, the brutes,
All men and women—me also;
All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages;
All identities that have existed, or may exist, on this globe, or any globe;
All lives and deaths—all of the past, present, future;
This vast similitude spans them, and always has spann’d, and shall forever span them, and compactly hold them, and enclose them.
4.8k
Orcas in Puget Sound
Along the road, abandoned wild apple trees bend
with their heavy loads, dusty skirts of blackberry bushes
purpling fingers, piercing flesh
mouths ringed with berry juice, vampires all.
Along San Juan Island salmon leap clear
out of the briny water, just yards ahead of their predators,
Orcas, dorsal fins curving shiny black, sluicing and slicing
the surface like sharpened knives
They have bred with one another for 10,000 years
trolled these waters through famine, earthquakes, world wars
through shifting continents, glacial avalanches,
through the extinction of whole civilizations.
Standing on a cliff, my daughter and I
watch the Orcas churning the water - studies in grace
the largest gem on the necklace of a great food chain
and when we sleep we too chase
the great King Salmon of our deepest dreams,
the fathers we lost, the currents that bear along children
Translucent jellyfish, palm sized, breath below
sideways exhale, convulsive inhale
umbrellas opening and closing a thousand years or more
sliding through forests of brown kelp where mollusks cling
We have clung like this to one another, with my body
thrown over hers for protection and her exhaling away from me
If Mama Orca keeps her young close, so will I
If there are salmon to chase and harbor seals to command, so we will
Arcing in the late August sky
slapping and parting the surface, over and over
the whales, lords of the Sound, swim in our brains as we sleep
sparkle against blackening waters
You are of my body from my body cleaving there for 10,000 years
Whatever quarrels there are on land vaporize
In the presence of these creatures,
arcing against all that is temporal, vicious, small,
studies in power and grace
The tide pulls out, skimming across rocks and oysters in their muddy beds
But this need to care for you remains as big as an Orca
your appetite for adventure as voracious
and I watch you, my child, disappearing with summer
into high school, into womanhood, into
the salty, light-dappled ocean
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 4:15 PM UTC
I want to write something to fix me.
I want to write something to heal my wounds, to hide my scars.
I want to write something to wear that will make me beautiful. I want to sew something from words that will fit me perfectly, something that flows like linen, curves of S's fitting curves of hips, legs like L's and F's soft like lips.
I want to write something to wear like new skin, something to make me interesting to look at, to make me a poem worth reading. I want to be the one you tuck into your notebook and read in class. When you're tired of listening, tired of focusing, tired of everything, you can read a few lines off my shoulder blades, from my palms or knees, and maybe you'll feel better.
I want to write something that will make you laugh. God, I love your laugh, I'd write myself into a joke just to see you smile like that, my shoulders to set it up, collar bone to draw you in, my stomach could be the punch line and I'd have you cracked up for sure. I don't need to be taken seriously, as long as I can see you laugh.
I want to write something strong and heavy. I'll melt the letters together, weld T's to G's and K's to X's until I've written us an anchor. It'll be just light enough for us to carry, just heavy enough to weigh us down. I'll weave J's into ropes, we'll tie ourselves together, and toss our anchor overboard. No matter how the ocean writhes and tosses my words will be heavier, my ropes stronger. The anchor will hold us fast, words weighted by promises, fighting angry seas around us. No matter what, we will always be close enough to read each others' poetry.
I want to write something that will last forever. I want to set words in stone to be discovered long after I'm gone, to paint hieroglyphics on the walls of my house to be interpreted by future civilizations. "This is where I ate cereal." "This is where I showered." (Did I make you laugh? You know how I love your laugh.)
I want to write razor-sharp, white-hot points of infinite logic, and I want to write children's books. I want to write something that means anything but God, all I want is to write anything that means something.
I want to write something to fill pages, to break silence.
I want to write something to fix me.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 2:55 AM UTC
Look closely, do you see it?
Down below, where man has not been
A deity with roots, deeply burrowed in the earth
There lies a mighty tree
Taking warmth from the core and
in return, provides life on the surface
Thousands of birds live within his branches
Songs sung of unexplainable beauty
His base, hollowed out for
furry creatures in the colder months
Oh, how he loves the tiny animals
They make him laugh,
dropping the sweetest of fruit
Perfection it would seem, he grew curious
What goes on beyond his personal Eden?
Several branches wrap around each other
Winding and unwinding, to reveal an old man
Terra-god, in flesh and blood
Ripping out a strong root to help hold himself up,
The long journey begins
Three days he walked through the forest
But what is three days to a man
who has lived hundred of thousands of years.
Entire civilizations rise and fall,
lifetimes must feel like matters of seconds
He continues to wander along.
Suddenly he sees something not seen before,
No cover from his branches, an open night sky
He had never felt such wonder
How many stars were as old as he?
Taking it all in, he continued to walk.
Morning came as did another discovery.
A jungle, grey, concrete, filled with soulless monsters
Black thick air, foulest of all
Stacks of stolen, re-engineered earth
rising higher then any tree.
There is no life here, only man's false heaven.
Disgusted and furious at what he saw,
he cursed this domain of blastphemy,
and turned homeward
Upon walking back as time progressed he felt weaker
He began to feel time, slower, and slower
Something felt wrong, something, felt wrong
He noticed the animals wandering about, picked one up
“Find shelter little one” in a worried tone, “It will be cold soon”
As he looked up, he trembled
His home Eden, ***** and torn by man
The sweetest of fruit,
The furry animals,
All destroyed, leaving but a trunk
He fell to the ground weeping,
Withering to nothing
The age of nature has ended
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 2:22 PM UTC
Governors,
Mayors,
Policemen,
Night keepers,
Men folk and all of you
On the crest of powers that be
Don’t brutalize prostitutes,
Nor mishandle ******
Or terrorize harlots,
They were born natural
Innocent and callow
With plain white brains
Not tainted with any miss-morals,
Genuine in hearts
And humane in the genesis,
Until they grew up
Beyond father and mother
Clan and relatives,
Into the realm of money civilizations,
Where man and woman,
Must sell to survive,
Sell the wares of trade,
Commodities and tools of work,
Where men sell labour of their arms
To those crafty buyers,
And women sell smiles,
And the ******** of their *****
To serve vice of man
In the glory of warped thought,
Prostitutes have no tribe,
Neither class nor race,
They have no permanent foe
Nor permanent friend,
They have no permanent memory,
Their love is devoid of logic,
They love most but fickle,
Where they make no money
And love least but with nostalgia
where they make money,
So don’t brutalize them,
Only love them,
Pay them,
Kiss them fondly
And sing to them,
Lyrical songs of love,
Sent them to lull and slumber
With your sensuous ******
Of their ******** fountains,
Both male and female
****** of your rendezvous.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 6:46 AM UTC
What is 1 to 1.5
currency to relativity
urgency brings negativity
It's not about new tools
it withers your tools bring productivity
The way you slap that old guitar, the way you drive that beat up car
How fast does it run? How long does it last? How fast does it charge?
New can only take you so far
Let that distance your reach be derived from a skill, not from how rich or famous your are.
I often walk, even though I own a car...I prefer feeling the wind, the open-air, it makes me feel like I'm apart of something
The emotions I feel are driven from an organic substance, the dirt that I see the wind that I feel..these constant conflicts between what is man-made and what was here.
The stare of a deer, the tree was its friend, it's now been destroyed to make a path of cement.
That path of cement created a state of solidarity, urban prosperity, violence numbified by media regularities.
Civilizations become the norm, even though we all barely speak to each other physically
Digital formats become our literal floor mats, every result you leave results in a digital footprint, cataloged for the marketing lab rats
Too complex to understand like a physical labyrinth, Let me elaborate
So let me ask you ?! What is 1 to 1.5
Can you live without your social media vices, multimedia devices, tell me the definition of what "like" is
Currency, urgency, thumbs up if you feel like every part of your life is an emergency, if so then share it,
so the world can see
Then watch your conversations about fashion turn into a targeted ad about a jacket that is burgundy
Invasion of privacy? Not if your privacy is for the world to see.
Coincidently that jacket is on sale, so if you buy it this theory will not fail, and if you don't the media will still prevail, it's presence is an entire quarter, meaning it's heads or tails.
That's urgency hiding behind a veil.
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC
dab for the teachers
dab for the kids
dab for the ministers
dab for the office workers
dab for the police
dab for the cafeteria workers
dab for the janitors
dab for the musicians not heard
dab for the bosses
dab for the civilizations to come
dab for the respectful
dab for the nice ones
dab for the politicians
dab for the moms
dab for the dads
dab for the able
dab for the disabled
dab for the poor
dab for the mechanics
dab for the coaches
dab for your family
dab for your friends
dab for her
and for him
dab for yourself
and
dab for appreciation
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 3:48 PM UTC
Lost in the wanderings
Through the ancient paths
Covered in anonymity
Long before they saw light
Many civilizations perished
Unaware wanderings
Lead the heart to unknown territories
Lost in the midst of nowhere
But have found an existence
Uncanny feelings awaken
A realization of the lost soul
Finally, it has found
Crowd of humanity could not spare
From the least known places
The soul has found a treasure trove
Wandering through meanderings
Directed the lost traveler
To a place of wonder and clarity
Herein lies the truth
Immerse yourself in silence
To celebrate the new realization
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 6:54 AM UTC
death is coming, it is a dark point on the horizon
it will be here, sooner than expected, the planet is dying
why are you preparing for a future, the future
why are you denying it is happening, sticking your head in the sand
going about, living carefree, when your children will suffer, millions will die
do you need a quatrain, a burning bush, to see the horror racing towards us
nostradamus didn’t see it, but we did, like a slow train wreck
the air will burn your lungs, the oceans scald your flesh
by the time you react, you will have reached the point of no return
your children are an army of dead men walking
their bodies catching up to their environmental fate
it is too late to cry, it is time to die
what will we do, how will we choose, who lives, who perishes
your cozy lives will disintegrate in social chaos as individual fight for survival
our former rules and norms will vanish, as the strong and ruthless vanquish
you will witness horrors, etched into your mind, re-dreamt every night
scream and cry, it could have been avoid, such is the tragedy of the commons
complacency of the masses, mass graves of the innocent
gods will die, civilizations will fall, as you huddle, shaking in a dark corner
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 12:01 PM UTC
Once for Halloween
I dressed up as Athena
The Greek goddess
My favorite Greek goddess
And it was a decent costume
Your standard iParty fare
Paired with an elaborate hairdo and some 50 cent earrings
And I knew I was only a cheap imitation
Nothing close to the real thing
For no one would ever build me a temple
Burn cattle in my name
Put on white robes and fall to their knees
For me
No, not for me
But for Athena
Oh, how they fell!
How the ancient Greeks worshipped her very name
Gave her their capital city
And dedicated the most powerful force to her
Wisdom
That force which drove the philosophers
The very energy
That sustained Socrates
And Plato
And Aristotle
And all those dead guys we read about in class
I was in a class
Reading the words those dead guys collected
In their moments of clarity
But all I could think about
All I really wanted
Was to throw on a white robe
And fall to my knees at the Parthenon
Begging for wisdom, wisdom
Please, Athena, some wisdom!
I don't care if it's heresy
I don't care if you're a myth nowadays
Because you once reigned
You once stood on Mount Olympus
In all your ancient power
And watched your people crying out wisdom, Athena, wisdom!
Please!
I wish
I could have been there
I wish I could have seen
The day the goddess cracked open Zeus's skull
And was born
Fully armed
Ready for her battle
Not the fight for wisdom, no
The fight she faced was undying
The war she would lead
Would ripple through the ages
Taking all civilizations
And tearing at their social order
For it was the men she was fighting
The disbelieving fools who put her *** down
Taking all women's wisdom
And deeming it inferior
Substandard
Not good enough
So Athena blazed in glory
And for her, men believed
Believed in their mothers and wives and daughters
Saw in that enthroned goddess
The sparks that fueled women's minds
Yes, I wish I'd been there
I wish I could have kissed her sword
And asked her to stick around
To blaze her way to the twenty-first century
And make these guys tremble, too
Instead
I look around my 80% male college of engineering
And wonder why I need to prove my worth
Simply because I have a second x chromosome
I wish that I could blaze in glory
And dazzle them all the same
That my Halloween costume could be enough to fool them
That they would turn their toga-party bedsheets
Into white robes
And fall to their knees
Gasping, "Wisdom, wisdom!"
And that, for one moment
I could be their goddess
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 6:38 PM UTC
-
Passing idea
Clusters a spark
a mundane brainstorm
And as it passes
Through the elastic mind
I wish to sit
At my typewriter
To capture the essence
Before it’s gone
Before the idea vanishes
Before storm ceases
Mad,
Mad mind
-
Passing idea
space exploded within itself
atomic fusion instigated
The mundane universe
And it expands
Through the elastic space
I wish to sit
At my typewriter
To capture the essence
Before it’s gone
Before a black-hole
Swallows my universe
to create another one
Mad,
Mad universe
-
Passing idea
Clusters of minds
Until civilizations are fused
Into mundane cultures
And they expand
Through the elastic generations
I wish to sit
At my typewriter
To capture the essence
Before it’s gone
Before civilization zero
Is both dead and alive
In the schrodinger-like
Transition to civilization one
Mad,
Mad persons
-
Passing idea
Cluster of lonely universes
Until the almighty gravity
Loses its kingdom
To the thought of multiverses
And it expands
Through the elastic kinship
I wish to sit
At my typewriter
To capture the essence
Before it’s gone
Before multiverses wonder
And discover:
They think, therefore they are.
Mad,
Mad multiverses
-
I am sitting at my typewriter
To capture an idea
whilst thoughts are passing through my cerebral cortex
Perhaps
Someone inside an earth-like neuron in my brain
Is sitting at his typewriter
With a writer’s block
Trying to make sense of the birth of me:
His equivalent of the big bang
a single atom
Giving birth to the energy
That shaped his universe - my cerebrum
I am sitting at my typewriter
To capture an idea
Whilst the milky-way and Andromeda
Are to cross through a string of light-like gravitational paths
Perhaps
The conscious of the universe
Ponders my existence
In a form of a passing idea
Mad,
Mad Alireza.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
A-Artifacts of long ago they're ever searching out
R-Relics in the Earth's soil layers interred deep
C-Curios from cultures past they're excavating out
H-History is alive in the things buried so deep
A-Abroad and at home their trowels seeking out
E-Enlightening the world with fragments of the deep
O-Open our eyes to the objects they shovel out
L-Lasting stories of past societies entombed down deep
O-Ongoing discoveries made with what they dig out
G-Great civilizations lie in quietness beneath the deep
I-Interesting journals and facts these specialists put out
S-Saving the ken of ancestries which are lodged deep
T-Times way back in eons past to-day bought out
S-Surfacing from the ground out of a sleep most deep
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
Wishing I could live in a fairytale land
Where singing my feelings
Would be a common feat;
Dancing through the streets,
Meeting my soul mate
Knowing that we were forever.
Feeling enchanted and believing
In magic; these are the things
My heart sincerely desires.
I don’t want to settle for the mundane
Seemingly normal life,
That everyone robotically lives.
I want to traverse the ocean,
Experiencing the wonders
Of art and ancient civilizations.
I want to believe in pixies.
Believing the stories of gypsies
That traveled spewing tales of magic.
I want to live on Middle Earth
Where there are many types of “human”
Including the one I grew up to be.
I want to be an elf that lives forever
And is exceptionally good at archery;
With a dwarf for a best friend.
I want to believe in Greek gods
With their magic and the powers
They hold in everything.
My heart longs for so much more.
I’m afraid that this world
Won’t be able to offer it to me.
This world seems broken
Beyond the ability to repair.
It’s too scientific.
I’m afraid that all the magic
That is left, is just that;
Empty fairytales.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 10:55 PM UTC
We've already established
That the sun's a bit self-centered
And it's as if the rest
Revolve around
but I think that may just be science
We've already established
That the moon shows only one side
to the Earth and the side
that's cloaked in shadow
is something to be
wary of? scared of? disappointed with?
We've already established
That Venus is the planet of love
That Jupiter gets no love songs
That Mars and Mercury frankly couldn't give a ****
and Uranus simply doesn't.
And I'd hate to pile more on Earth
More noise to pollute the atmosphere
More thoughts that don't mean jackshit
More civilizations that believe the universe
Revolves around Earth.
Storms and Quakes and Humans
Are unimportant after all
You can't complain about not finding
A specific sort of poem
if all the other planetary poems
Seem to be about you anyway
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 9:27 PM UTC
The City of Lights
liberty's burning flame
black terror assailed
to despoil her aims
A lamp to the world
illumes liberated pathways
its Arc de Triomphe heart
scarlet droplets stain
the secular graces
of enlightened ages
defiled and condemned
by fanatical excess
civilizations clash
social fabrics torn
Muslims denigrated
republicans mourn
the death of tolerance
spiraling spike of hate
a fractured city
the closure of gates
dark shadows trundle
down The Champs-Elysees
the fraternity of brotherhood
deeply wounded and frayed
republican ideals
will be surely tested
Charlie Hebdo's critical voice
sorely missed, forever rested
Music Selection:
La Marseillaise
Oakland
1/7/15
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 1:49 AM UTC
This tiny ark of our civilizations
has been spilling all around radio waves
which might feed or **** some of our neighbours
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
Designs and Equations
Was it the ****** Void filling
or Pandora's box opening?
Was it Victoria's secret
or was it the intellect of victors?
Was it the prowess of Hector/Hercules was it?
Was it the influence of Arthur or Har-Thor was it?
What shapes this world?
Ancient Egypt, Pyramids and the Sphinx?
Stonhenge and oblelisks?
Mystery Schools and occultism scrolls?
Crystal technology shifting poles?
Perhaps the hips and curves of a voluptuous African Queen
Perhaps the fall of Atlantis
or the secrets of the Bermuda Triangle
Perhaps the enthralling dynamics of the Photon Belt
Perhaps the mystery of Shamballa
or maybe underground bases where vortex points are
Perhaps the missing Eyepods
Maybe ancient and present advanced civilizations
Maybe it was the fall of Mars or the destruction of Maldek
Maybe the hope of Terra par DOMA
Or a design from distant super universes
or the amphibian watchers of myths
Maybe you, maybe me, maybe we
The I I I I I's of this world
however our eyes blind for we ruin this world
If we looked long enough at the light would we burn out?
If we truly listened could we hear the music of the verses unison - universes created by the Divine Creator?
would we join it/him/ness? Would we hear then Sophia being played as a harp and worlds conceived
Would we see a billion pictures as the cosmos are breathed?
and Karma come to be...
Would we learn of all life forms? Would we learn that there is more structural design than form? Would we learn that there are other mediums of activity apart from life?
Would we learn that structure is part of a larger paradigm of concentrated design?
Would we learn that universes are gardens and that there are worlds beyond the multiverse based on a hill and mountain orientation not dependant on planes?
Who shapes the world?
Our Souls from the ocean of love reincarnating?
The keepers of sacred knowledge at the temples of Golden Wisdom?
Walk-ins and starseeds? Cryptids and hybrids?
Wars or the Sun? The Peoples of the Moon or the base in Venus? The underground bases of Mars or The Order of The Phoenix?
Maybe royal and mob families?
Maybe government with all its true lies
Maybe the networks sustained by the simple minds of you and I
Whoever or whatever is responsible, either through sonic beams and energy manipulation, it is not so much the power of the Empire but rather the power we surrender.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC