"communicates" poems
Music is my Deity
and so benevolent is it!
A mystical Tapestry
woven upon Silence and across Time,
what about that is not Divine?
Music doesn't divide, it unites.
It attracts expressive minds, creative minds, empathic minds, logical minds.
It creates an abstract temporal psychosocial middle-ground;
You don't have to be a virtuoso
to drum along or dance or vocalize.
You don't have to be a virtuoso
for practice to reap it's rewards.
We speak with Music:
Language is a Musical thing;
it employs Rhythm and Pitch and works through Time.
Music is a Linguistic thing;
it communicates things that otherwise cannot be said
while also having room for Language itself.
Music is no singular aspect;
Music is not defined by medium,
nor is it defined by orchestration.
Music is wholly Abstract,
relating only back to itself.
Music is defined by context;
Music is a matter of perspective.
Footsteps are music, in 2/4 time.
Heartbeats are music, in 3/4 time; this defines "swing" feel.
A Clock is music, in 1/1 time at 60 beats per minute.
A year is music, in 365.25/1 time at 1 beat per day.
The duration of the Moon's orbital period and Day are a Unison; 1:1.
The four Galilean moons of Jupiter orbit with the resonance of Octaves; 2:1 ratios of wavelength.
The ratio of the lengths of Mercury's Year to it's Day is nearly a Perfect Fifth; 3:2.
Music is implicit.
Music is mystical.
Music is a Metaphor manifest,
for the nature of the Universe;
even the very word "Universe"
means "The One Song".
Music is truly intrinsic;
I am a Shaman of Music.
It is an Honor.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 2:03 PM UTC
Ever felt sharp needles like ice,
But nothing to blame when you open your eyes?
Like existence is nothing when the mind is awake,
Or when your mind is gone all your body can do is shake.
When essence communicates all that needs to be said,
The flowers won't wilt and the leaves won't turn brown, yellow, or red.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 11:41 PM UTC
words at most
are sign posts
never touching
what's real
minds watching
yearning to feel
and at least
the beasts
of burden
I'm sorry
i beg your pardon
i didn't mean those words
that cut to the bone
the words said in anguish
the words that you moan
love has its own language
that communicates by touch
you speak to me
you tell me so much
the words I weave
are a cry for help
please don't leave
this is what I felt
fault lines through and through
cracks in my sentences
words no longer the glue
the endless relentlessness
of thoughts
circling like sharks
they haunt
my deepest parts
the weakest heart
pumping out words
of dread
this is what I said
you said
the words that line our bed
sleeping on novels
we are apostles
of language
tell me how you manage
all your words
how do you discard them
with such ease
no gratitude
no need
your smile
sells more
empty words
than I could ever write
I'm never right
how could I be
when words are all I see
so please
use your lips
to silence my sentences
wrap your tongue
around my words
i promise you some
you've never heard.
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 7:38 PM UTC
They say something is truly computerized
yes or no? yes or no ?
which one? which one?
BETTER throw a dice if you wanna know
but no
it is a BIG YES of course!
that’s what they should be saying - truly
THEY.
WE -
however -
we don’t have a proof
that it truly is so
and we never may have
and actually we don’t even need to spend our time to find out
if they are right or wrong
It is more important to understand why we discuss this matter here now
and we can explain the reasons in two basic steps:
1- believe not and do not become a blind believer -
to whoever - to whatever- no matter who - no matter what -
there is no one who can tell you the truth
but you -
you may not need to like it all - but
that’s always for a good reason -
if you make it good
2- understand what is of essence now - thus - the thing- maybe a poem- maybe a result of a competition - maybe this - maybe that -
why that specific thing comes to my/your attention now
So
it does not matter
if it is computerized or not -
what matters is
I see it and it communicates with me
and with my senses
and is at my attention
it manifests itself to me here now where I truly am
does not matter how it manifests - but it matters that it manifests
and the answer to why
is by my experience creating an action -
Only what I can neutrally and non-judgmentally witness I can purely experience -
and purity
has surpassed frights
and purity
has no addictions
and purity
does not swing from moon to sun
but remains centralized-
and purity
needs no temporary replacement that serves to escape from one pain- discomfort to another
but purity is ultimate self - is itself by itself
therefore what is presented to me here now is not other than what my consciousness is manifesting as -
it is not a test -because we have passed all the tests -
there is no teacher other than the self-
it is such that we are moving on -
on a path of knowing of our own true nature
And now
that ‘s why!
that’s why!
There is a dove
in love with me
comes to see me daily
and listens to my songs
it ain’t matter if it’s not the same dove
although I know it is
not because it looks alike
but because I know it is
and still it ain’t matter
if it’s not the same dove
because there is a dove
in love with me
comes to see me daily
and listens to my songs
adoringly
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 6:48 PM UTC
Even a wayside **** can ignite
greater passion in the heart
than a well potted garden plant
at the centre of a tastefully landscaped plot
Even a child’s prank can be more hilarious
than all the cranky jokes of an acclaimed comedian
Even in the warble of a lonesome bird
there can be more flooding melody
than in the well tuned violin of a music maestro
There can be greater poetry in a simple ditty
than in all the lines of verse in a great epic
A tear drop may contain greater salinity
than all the waters of a great ocean
Perhaps a simple nod of head or a wink of the eye
communicates much more than a whole bunch of words
I don’t know why I love the dainty flowers of May
than perhaps the exotic lotus of the day
Don’t we love the homemade fare served with love
more than all the delectable cuisines of a posh restaurant
The small things of life thus,
prove much bigger than big things
Just as the joy of life is not always ruined by fatal errors
but by the recurrence of injurious little things,
Greatness is achieved not through momentous actions
but by the little things done in a great way
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 6:40 AM UTC
there is attitude as strong as my own in these kinks and these coils,
my Afro has a mind of its own.
she stands tall when she wants,
shrivel up when she’s cold.
sometimes shy,
she is not a people person.
my Afro only communicates with other Afros.
she ain’t stingy but she **** sure don’t like to be touched.
don’t you try to sweet talk her
when she’s in a rush.
only like a wash & oils.
sometimes gel and finger coils.
she’s amazing,
i love my twa.
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC
The spirochetes of the ages embellish themselves in a mystical quartet, as our respirations reverberate across sanctimonious plateaus of Oedipus and Electra complexes.
Your celestial convictions are tasteful as they wistfully meander through the fuselage of hydrangea bushes and ***** foxgloves.
I can feel the beat of your apprehensive pulse.
As we applaud the demise of this psychological stage-show, where connected separations unravel their shameful mysteries into a vortex of deluded academia; it is evident when someone communicates deep convictions across pulsating swamps of cosmological hemispheres.
So, as we merge into this cataclysmic vortex of enshrinement, let us embrace the past understanding of future ambivalence where the beginning can only be understood within the context of the end.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 12:19 AM UTC
He has this wild spark in his eyes
The more I stare, the more I am mesmerized
This spark communicates what I need to know
Yet at the same time leaves me dying to know
Just a little more
Okay, a lot more
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
you said.
But when was the last time
you lifted a finger
to text me.
When was the last time
you opened your mouth
to talk to me.
When was the last time
you reached out
and touched me.
The only communication
you seem to make an effort on
is this silence.
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 5:11 AM UTC
I used to hear the word
"Holy..."
And immediately, Ratman or
Bobbin would lamely
Limp into my mind.
1960s Shtick
Shtuck in my
Noggin, until...
I met a Holy Man
Whose name means
Either
"Asleep" or
"Wild Man"
Anyhoo,
He was/is/
From just past
Detroit
Cross the Border,
Bordering Cross.
He spoke of the
HOLY SPIRIT
That part of God Who
Which
Communicates with us
And us, HIM...
Of an unquenchable
FIRE that yearned,
Burned
Churned in the hearts of
His Children.
His smile was wide,
His eyes, shining, but...
But his words soon after
(Were not his own)
Not natural, but
SUPERNATURAL
From the Great
I AM.
The Lord Jesus Christ
Spoke inside this man's
Heart, Soul,
Mind, Body-
Spirit Holy.
his
(HIS)
words
(WORD)
Were written in
Indelible ink
Upon the surface
Of my
(sinful)
Human heart.
We
Had never met before
Our paths
(Crossed)
But he knew, He
Had a VISION.
He shared it with me.
Now when I hear
"Holy..."
I no longer think of
That common Red-
Breasted avian creature, but
The man whose
Breast and
Heart were on
Holy Cleansing Fire,
That burns brightly
Still
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
Everything I Needed to Know in Life I Learned in Concert Band
Play from your heart
Follow the leader
Help set up
Sit up straight
Take deep breaths
Be prepared – always have extra supplies just in case
Drink plenty of water
Eat food at an appropriate time
Listen to the people around you
Playing in the rain is ok if you have the right gear
Clap for someone when they do a good job
Plan ahead
Have a pencil ready
Have an eraser ready
Wipe up your own spit
Keep track of your belongings
Read carefully, observing all marks
Count
Come in when you can
Listen to those around you to see where you fit in
If you are lost – ask someone for help
Music is for everyone
Play from your heart
A good leader inspires and encourages
Try to get along with people in different sections
Be friendly
Be humble
Stick together
Compliment others
Be on time
Leave on time
Laugh with people but not at people
Appreciate those who are different from you
If you are moved – it is ok to cry
It is also ok to laugh
Try your hardest
Play as a team
Team work is not just for athletes
It is not about winning – it is about finishing
And doing your best
Practice
Pick up after yourself
Put your chair away when you are done
Be proud of what you do right
Let go of what you do wrong
Try to do better each time
Strive for 100% but know that 99% is ok
Surround yourself with good people
Don't give up
Know that everyone is important to the group and has a contribution to make
Playing quietly communicates just as much as playing loudly
Sometimes silence is golden
Having a great leader makes all the difference
Play from your heart
Inspired by and acknowledgement given to Robert Fulghum’s for his poem and book, “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.”
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 10:19 AM UTC
A spider in it's web,
is a mistress
of a myriad things:
for instance,
a five finger exercise,
or a full bare breast on which,
a hand is tenderly spread.
On canvas space,
spider forms evoke layers of
meanings.Imagine this:
from secret holes of
moonlit camphor trees,
come out love-lorn female spiders
wanderers of dark nooks,
enticing perfect mates.
The deceptive calm
in them is the most
dangerous precept,
if you know the spider
the way you should.
I watch her sitting on the floor
at the far end of
the poorly lit room where
a group is in it's
usual squabbling
she is bored, still aroused
no one else, and she
looks at my lips
The spider web
is a sign language she
communicates:
she playfully points her finger
down between her legs.
Curious, I strain my eyes
in the oily yellow light,
see the phantom of a spider:
dark, sinister with a gleaming eye.
OOO
Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 7:54 AM UTC
The energy from my soul dissipates
When the mind and heart communicates.
Saying I don’t love you when I do
No statement could ever be more true.
Yet the pain is there inside
Burning my heart till it is fried.
You don’t love me, but despise my being
What is it that you’re not seeing ?
I can’t move on to someone new
When the only person I’ve ever truly loved was you.
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 2:54 PM UTC
Expectations of others still holding me at gunpoint.
Everyone and their mothers, I know I'll disapoint.
Not everyone can win if this internal battle continues.
But everyone could win if we stop the abuse.
The abuse of others, the society around,
Could become productive if we listened through the sound.
Listened to the people but not the words they say,
Because everyone communicates in their personal way.
If we listened to ourselves and followed what we feel,
Maybe everyone in this world could go home to a meal.
Maybe someday we will love and the fighting will cease,
and maybe someday we will be people of peace.
For now Im alone and considered slightly mad,
For straying from the norm apparently Ive gone bad.
Someday we will all stray from the norm.
We will all become "mad" rather than conform.
When that day comes the norm is gone for good.
People will be free and I will be understood.
With just a free spirit you can help to release,
A whole new world for the people of peace.
Nov 21, 2010
Nov 21, 2010 at 12:49 PM UTC
Africa my Africa
The giant rock on the river bank
Yes! Africa the lover of her nations
The giant of all continent
Africa the lover of culture
In Africa, culture communicates…
beauty and love.
Have you seen our wrappers?
The magnitude of her colours is so adhering
See the beauty of our caravan
The movement from place to place,
Yes we're gipsies!
The momentum of our brotherhood
And love in our diversity
Africa the lover of all tribes
And giver of livestocks
Mama, the best in humanity and culture
Let's talk about art...
Have a look at our vast nature
That my dear is art itself
The beautiful seas of green
The alluring spirits of the canvas
The beauty in the artist pen
Bringing out the best images in art, beauty and culture
When you talk about culture and heritage,
I call for your hearing...
Africa
Mother that won't give up her brotherhood
You speak about peace and love?
I'll tell you about Africa… which after many wars, still keeps her children
She's a plate that dish out love and affection in her own language not minding your understanding
Yes we're Africans. And we know humanity, love and culture.
I don't know what part of the world you are from.
But here in Africa, we speak in culture and style.
Bellah.
Dec 21, 2022
Dec 21, 2022 at 12:24 PM UTC
I wish they could hear me sometimes.
I wish they could hear me crying in my bedroom over an idiotic boy.
I wish they could hear me throwing things left and right as I create a storm of my clothes over the latest thing that is enraging me to no extent.
I just wish they could hear me as I repetitively scream,
"YOU'RE SO STUPID" to myself over and over again until it is embedded into my brain and I feel it in my body.
But they can't. And they never will.
Deaf. That's what my parents are.
Deaf as they talk to each other with their visual language,
Creating a three-dimensional image that communicates all their ideas through art.
Deaf as they imagine what the music I love so much sounds like,
But all they can ever do is wonder.
Deaf as they can see me, but never fully grasp what my voice sounds like as I screech and howl for their help.
My screeches and howls are like tiny whispers in their ears.
My mom once asked me, "What is it like to hear? I wish I could."
But mom, I am here to tell you that your ears are blessed.
You cannot hear the monstrosities that exist in the world:
The sound of loud eating, the sound of two cars crashing into each other as both drivers finally heed what's happening, but lastly, the sound of your own daughter weeping in her room with solitude as she mopes hopelessly.
Mom, you're so lucky to have never heard that.
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
That yellow lightning bolt
“You have new notifications”
truly; like my personal brand of ******
my personal, digital addiction;
I eagerly log in
to see which stranger now approves,
of the turmoil deep in me
to see which stranger considers me worthy;
worthy of “following”
worthy of paying attention to
“Your poem started trending”
Which one? True Love?
OH WOW! Strangers like my work?
should it even matter?
does it even matter?
**** straight it does!**
Why?
I’ll tell you why;
People liking my poems means I’m not alone
if I’m crazy, I’m not the only one,
it means that somewhere in this upside down world
understands something about me
Following me means that my voice matters
if in ”real life” I don’t matter
if in ”real life” I’m stepped upon
at least here, people think me worthy
Others can at least identify
it means that I am not alone
it means that I might not be that crazy
it means that somewhere on this Earth
another heart beats –
another flame flickers
against the cold, dark of the World
Really, it communicates that I matter
that I too, have a place in the world
Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 9:01 AM UTC
Get to know me.
It’s my most illustrious goal. Feel me, be me. I am you. I have felt and continue to inspire. I am the flicker of flames, torching the atmosphere. Raw. Consuming. Effervescent. Touch me. Be warmed. Be amazed. Be in awe.
My soul cries for understanding. Give me the rhythms of Glass, the complicated interflow of melodies, harmonies that make me sick, that give me wings. I stretch my hands, close my eyes and Listen. Don’t miss this.
Ears. Deaf ears. Be quiet for once. Hear. Hear. Be still and Hear. Nothing you will ever amount to could last as long as this legacy. It communicates without stroke, it astonishes without brush, it intrigues without etch, commanding what the eyes cannot see, what the nose cannot smell, what the hand cannot feel. Thus is the glory of song.
Open your ears, study! Lords are speaking to you. We are their medium of communication.
I sit quietly, enveloped in sound, and as my heart stirs, I’m filled with reflective urgency. As if I must abandon everything and go somewhere, but where? NOW! And yet, I’m immobilized by its warmth… yearning for release.
I’m reminded of the happiest times I’ve shared in my life, and for this reason I listen with respectful awareness of its toxicity. It is both addictive and hateful. Never failing to transport my very being to memories of love, comfort and peace.
And yet… it’s bitter. These are the memories of experiences I thought I once mastered. And as I listen to its echoes I am burdened to re-live the loss, the awakening once again, forever.
I awake to see that all is not what it seemed to be. My world is harsh, rash, skeptical: but absolutely never all the way real.
Hm, a dream. And always knew it. Deep down I knew and still I stifle instinct, ******* experience, and choke doubt. It is mine and I use it to fulfill me.
This song is short, but it commands deep within me feelings of such a range of love and devotion that I’m left frightened, exhausted, void. Could I have had that much to give? Yes.
Let the sounds live through you, and as your heart stirs, know that you are human.
Begin to listen, begin to hear. This lamentation begs for empathy, so rejoice! You are not alone. You are quite human, perfect: alive.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QjiUgN0HuPg&feature;=plcp
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 9:11 PM UTC
To me there is no better night
Than the dimming of the lights
And tuning into American Idol on my T.V.
Tonight's no different to tell the truth
As they give another loser the boot
When I noticed something strange in how Ryan Seacrest blinked
Mr. Pretty Boy was blinking in Morris code
Right underneath America's nose
He was passing off top governmental secrets
So his front has all along been a lie
Ryan Seacrest, international spy
Don't know why before I didn't see this
He uses that cute little baby face
And day old beard to hide his disgrace
As he obviously communicates with the underworld
From one side of the globe to another
Talking in code with his Rooski brothers
Why this just gets my patriotic ******* in a curl
Just when you think you know someone
They go and pull this traitor stunt
I suppose now your going to tell me Mom doesn't bake her own apple pies
Then I find out it's some imposter named Mrs. Smith
I'm not sure I can take much more of this
Who next will I catch living a lie
Then I see Ryan run off stage
With the strangest of looks on his face
Seems all along there was stardust in his eyes
Funny it wasn't Morris code
Who's embarrassed now...me I suppose
Ryan Seacrest international spy?
Uh...nevermind
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
Imagine a woman
Who walks with pride
Head held high
With secrets in her ears
And words in her mouth
She speaks with confidence
As if nothing was by her side
Who could hinder her thoughts
Or feelings
Imagine a woman
Who isn’t blinded by
What others think or feel
Shining brighter than those
Petty feelings
Imagine a woman
Who doesn’t chatter about the clutter
But creates compromises
Helping others
Being selfless
Imagine a woman
Shapeless and divine
Who doesn’t need others
To grow into a diverse human being
Imagine a woman
Who communicates with words
Using them like magic
To manipulate others
To bring chaos to her world
Subconsciously
Yet with purpose
Imagine a woman
Who holds so many secrets
If she was cut open
They would spill out
They would stare at you
Embarrassing
Imagine a woman
Who doesn’t understand death
And tries to defeat it
Using words
Imagine a woman
So powerful
She dances with death
Into existence
Through words
Imagine a woman
Who is so angry
She destroys death
Imagine a woman
Who is so sad
She buries death
With her
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 7:33 PM UTC
Opened a book and started reading, a strange awareness my eyes reading to my ears.
The eyes help our senses to triggers and connect all feeling enzymes in our brains.
I admire bookstore as admire a female celebrity. I go near to the rack and closely run my eyes on every title and I know some books always hide like a shy girl. Touching and opening was an initial part of ecstasy for book lover.
Some book invites you to buy like an orphan attracts you to adopt from orphanage.
Few books avoids you as if it's not for you, and communicates it's waiting and committed for someone like an married woman reserve her staring on strangers.
Once I had an experience, when I selected the book and for some reason could not able to Bill. I got disturbed and then after a month went and enquired. The reply was it got transferred to other branch. I don't know how I got the book on later date. I saw a marking and happy to get the same.
Book has life, they never part from us are more like friends. I always hide my favourite book from shelf from the eyes of my guests because they are my girlfriends..they are for my eyes only..
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 4:47 AM UTC
Poetry is one of the *** position that most of us
Is afraid of trying, we squirm to the ideas of
Giving it a go: the *** in poetry goes …..
from the low pitch, to the high volume
Of ecstasy, it doesn’t always have to
Be after dark, it was said that the gay men
And women enjoy *** more than the straight men
Implicit and boldly imaginative: hashtag
the straight men and women
Sugar level is low, while the gay men and women
Level is high on excitement; it’s all about the enjoyment
Poetry is *** to new ideas of acceptance,
A lady in the street, but a freak under the sheets,
Shyness in the voice, to a loud thunderous conclusion
Of mumbling words: asking for help from the almighty
Tomorrow, someone is going to look into their baby’s face
And called him or her Poetry, after a night of ***
The toes curling ******* to face images of Satanism
While clinching on for dear life: Poetry is life
Staying alive, be not afraid of poetry…..
***What *** is, we don't know, but it must be some sort of fire. For it always communicates a sense of warmth, of glow. And when the glow becomes a pure shine, then we feel the sense of beauty." -- D. H. LAWRENCE***
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 10:59 AM UTC
The unspoken word
is sometimes the
best word spoken,
Each word a Job depends on how you work em,
or work it in,
Combined with gestures obscene,
Otherwise pleasure, angry, happy, mean,
or annoyed,
You yourself can chose
to leave these words unemployed,
A career of no meanings
what you see and what you hear,
Use your minds eye
let them fall on deaf ears,
Puzzled by the truth
of this this alphabet soup,
Coordinated and framed arranged to change moods,
when you get to the root,
It's dirt soil to contemplate,
Wrong seed planted harvest to vegetate,
Vibrations of the voice box can turn one Irate,
Bliss does it matter?
A matter of ones taste,
you don't say,
Why, Who made up speech
and language anyway?
WHEN WHAT YOU DO
COMMUNICATES MORE THAN
WHAT YOU SAY!!!
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 9:54 AM UTC
Every streak of her beauty communicates sensual pleasure
If you ask me about the taste that is a tasteful treasure
Vastness of beauty makes it very difficult to measure
Love is like a violent storm while beauty is just at leisure
Let my love to kiss at your forehead to homage to beauty
Let my love explore you petal by petal just to be at liberty
As far as world know there is no one else like you in the city
My sweetheart my love my heart’s solace you are so pretty
Under all circumstances you are mine I just frankly declare
In my domain no one else can interfere or can just dare
So let me to take you away from ***** eyes to take care
Love is a play which needs clean intentions of the player
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 4:10 AM UTC
Tonight i realized that there’s beauty and power in every song because there’s an inspiration, no matter what its message is, there is a complete phenomenon on how the songs speak and communicate with our souls. Maybe it is also composed with emotions, not just that, but love and longingness..
Every song has a heart, how it is poured out in a song..it sets its emotion in every note, every heart beat, every hum . It is what we feel. The reason why we are being connected to it whenever we open ourselves. That’s why we cry hearing a song, changed lives occur, realizations taking place.
As I sang love songs, I realized that these love songs also is a way on how God communicates with us. It tells us how he feels for us, the same way the song is made for someone. God also has feelings. He also expresses his love, not only in act of kindness by providing us all we need but even in a song, he speaks real loud. If only we have ears to hear it, we could.
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC