"compress" poems
All my life
is waves, expressed as rays,
phases, and cancellations...
...Waving by
and paving over
what I made in other ages
Undulating sway,
disrupting Self,
the Phrase, the Word, the Way --
Nameless, without
shape - within all shape -
all touch, all taste;
One expressed as Two:
compress, expand, repeat.
In balance, truth.
Lilting swells
that break in mind and water,
endless scintillation;
Every word as complex
as its counterpart,
unpatterned ocean;
All motion
the illusion of Desire,
the fire that burns to Rest...
...But only ever
simulates, for trough
but stimulates the crest;
When all my waves
have ceased and found their peace,
there ends my quest.
Aug 4, 2011
Aug 4, 2011 at 4:45 PM UTC
The porch waits behind the glass
It empathizes as needed
I step on it once again
And smoke in its graces
A compress over the cliff
We aspire at Deveraux
once again to hear
the ocean's rhythmic advice
And I do wince, such a daunting way
upon the enraged sky
A tormented face
looking at impassioned ways
And now a visitor appears
another tormented face
under a gossamer spun
brazen reds opulent yellows
pale blues push through
as it unravels
with a photograph
Her porch vacant once again
Mine thankful of its owner
to give a futile roll of discontent
And once again we listen and gaze
And once again we inhale the salt air
And once I saw because I stayed
Four dolphins shoulder the sand
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 8:02 PM UTC
Don't give away the key to your heart
because you know he'll take it,
and break it.
He'll use it,
and abuse it,
he'll love and caress it,
and then he'll compress it.
He'll trick it,
and kick it,
and beat it,
and eat it.
He'll **** you
just for it.
So don't let him touch it
and please let me keep it.
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 10:54 PM UTC
Relax, de-stress, the moon is full tonight
The stars are out, faces turned forward
Trials painted end to end
Your heart never felt so bright
So good night stars, and good night moon
Tomorrow’s quick to come
Awaken to the face of the rising saint,
I’m glad this day is done.
They say early to bed, early to rise
If I wake to the absence of our smile,
Was it worth the rest I took?
What am I here to compromise?
I’ve heard what They say about love,
I’m really not impressed
Like I said, now you’re de-stressed,
Time to compress, to digest my exposition.
If your heart doesn’t flutter like mine,
Relax, all will come in time.
Sep 23, 2011
Sep 23, 2011 at 2:18 AM UTC
Liquids and lipids
North and south
Fatty and lean
Mouth-to-mouth
Resuscitation
Breathe
In and out
I think I need the Heimlich too
Compress my chest
Until I come to
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 10:28 AM UTC
Since the days of my youth
My magic prevailed
No smoke and mirrors
No fear of hell
This part of me has never died
Hidden behind Hazel Eyes
Beyond sight the description of soul
Blacker than black, lower than low
Ignorance to cover up my wise
Hidden behind Hazel Eyes
Love and hateful molecules compress
Chemical reaction under my breath
Angels and demons cling to my side
Hidden behind Hazel Eyes
The laughter of spirits ring in my ears
Invisible beings long to appear
October moons stand still in my skies
Reflected in Hazel Eyes...
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 5:12 PM UTC
The Story begins with silence and black out, a void. Not darkness. Nor anything that attempts to define nothingness, because it’s nothing. The blackness or void is only a metaphor representing nothing. Within this point, so close to simultaneous you’d think they were one in the same, a light emerges, emanating divine, pure energy and love. Its intelligence and complexity expands and fills what was once nothing with beauty and truth. At this moment, all is whole, fast as thought, strong beyond comprehension, gentle as a whisper and furious beyond all flame. The wild spirit of happiness is real and alive! The void was never the enemy, only a point in which to be born. Duality can only exist if unification finds an enemy within itself. The enemy is reflected by the segregation and space created between divine and mortal. This space is developed by Ego.
This entity “Ego” is the essence of self resistance, absorption, chaos, consciousness…hate. The inner antagonist rises and begins to cut and eliminate the threads attached to creation and spirit. A mirror that envelopes and contains the living spirit. An orb caging vulnerable souls spread throughout the expansion of life and suffocating energetic flow. The universe and it’s creatures that lost connection being virtually incapable of seeing one another ever again while the enemy exists.
The instigation is tolerated by those who always continue the journey. The emasculation of Ego, commences as the divine resonates it’s vibration as a weapon like a solar flare, piercing the Ego. Then the inner spirit begins to open up and claw its way out. The Spirit sees that vanity is leading the despair of self pity into the heart as it remains a vessel dwelling in a false world channeling a false force. This awareness makes The Spirit lifts up, against and out of a matrix constructed within the crystal ball cage that refracts the true sun’s rays. Together, The Spirit and The Divine begin to crush Ego. Ego begins to flatten, compress and then combust. Through the flames the chord of love between The Divine and The Spirit bursts like a shooting star towards the kinship’s re-established nexus. The collision creates what was pure and full in circulation again and the expansion becomes an infinite motion harmonizing with the void in an adventure that goes on forever. When Ego tries to slither back in after a nearly insurmountable time of hiding between the gaps that contains new life, it is given no room by anything in thought, theory, in any form of existence.
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 7:40 PM UTC
My emotions roll with the tide,
Toe tip dip,
Into the blue,
The cold dark liquid,
Seeps inside.
My hair turns to the creatures,
Of the big deep,
All of their poison
Rapidly seeps.
Sea salt water enters my lungs,
Gently squeezing,
And halting
My slow breathing,
Years from here,
I'll reach the troughs,
But what if this ending
Isn't enough?
My skin a crustation,
Water baby
Can't swim,
Let the ocean compress me,
****** me from within.
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
I really wish I could better understand myself,
Like be able to reach in, instead of reaching out for help.
I wish my thoughts wouldn't compress on my brain,
Begging to get out, begging to keep me sane.
And I've reluctantly come to notice,
When it comes to life, I'm actually just a novice.
I could pretend to know something about everything,
But in reality, I'm still endeavouring.
To succeed, to achieve,
To figure out what I need.
I struggle in my sea of confusion,
My arms tire as I swim to keep from losing.
How do you know when it’s all done?
When the final fights, fought and the war’s either lost or won.
And you sit there and think of all the things you could've done differently.
“Maybe I could've said something else, or only to a different degree.
The simplest things could change a lot,”
These thoughts always manage to get me distraught.
The mistakes I've made catch me at night,
Where I'm looking for myself, in a room with no light.
It’s hard to say, what I think I'm looking for,
It’s easier to say that I really just don’t know anymore.
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 4:14 PM UTC
In brief: scalpel words so cheap
Misanthropic cold compress
Jaded and hard in denial
Heavely Medicated without
Prescription
Mute Pain
Guilt soaked peace
Once more
At least
On this rock
I’ve built my church
And drunk of this poisoned cup
Enough
Salted sigh the spike
Do not resuscitate
For the bones of it
Are a pistol cool pressed
To a temple
Derelict
Sleep without rest
Please, one more breath
Vein or scar
Blood loss
And the cost:
Everything
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC
for every action defined
there are infinite that remain
utterly unnamed and
are vitally spoken
in whispers on the
pieces never lived.
these incalculably splintering,
passively accumulating,
terrifyingly ungrasped possibilities
compile and cache
and compress and comeback
in the saddest seconds,
where one can merely conject
their meaningfulness,
realizing that there
is infinity in everything
and therefore potential
even in the kinetic.
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 2:52 AM UTC
I wish, most of all, to have had a tangibly physical notebook to write all this in. instead I use the 'note' function of my smartphone, smoke a cigarette. busy on forward, it's Pandora.
one of those acid-high coffee overbouts, feeling the brain compress inside the skull. for an hour. for a few.
some man in tattered-all's gets angry when I state I have no quarter. like I'm lying when I say it, and must be lying because my pants aren't worn like his. bus and car alike ghost past, the monastic rise of the local music conservatory pokes at the skyline, straight at the overcast.
I toss "If on a winter's night" by Italo Calvino atop the third step of the church stairs leading to the church doors, the Seventh Day Adventist Church, Where we meet Jesus. I begin to write this poem, huddled atop my cellphone as if I were in silent debate with a lover, only sitting to make a point.
to the left is a McDonald's flying a McDonald's flag. A man with a thoughtless white ball-cap and a thoughtful tattoo walks past with a McDonald's dollar drink in his right hand, pointing his arms in opposite directions to illustrate the dimensions of something he wants. "See?" he says to the woman he walks with, her face scabbed over with acne scars.
my eyes are tunnel-visioned to the screen every time I follow a thought, or the glancing past of a passer-by like the woman with the black scarf, black hair, black sweater, grey pants, black shoes.
the orange 'don't walk' sign pulses 7 times, and then sticks, as if waiting for a high-five.
I reach into my backpack for a cigarette.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
I need a wishbone or a loophole
sick of you and this old soup bowl
I thought this plague would fade away
I thought your chest was my favourite place
tarot cards led me astray, I guess
I try to never compress, I try to focus on my dress
a ring that makes me smile or a vibrant hue
anything to forget about you
how about when you made butterflies erupt in my stomach
how about when you made me think I knew what love is
floating on the shipwreck waiting to be brought to shore
these moments allowed me to process and plan
for my next project, my next attack
you thought you could beat me down
think again
Apr 15, 2022
Apr 15, 2022 at 5:15 PM UTC
when i am dead,
bury me someplace vast,
full of knowledge
bury me in a library
no, better yet
bury me under a shelf
full of books
no, better yet
bury me under a pile of books,
no, get me closer,
cremate me,
bury me between the sun-yellowed pages,
stuff me in
compress me into paragraphs, sentences,
words even
press me into the holes of letters
until i can see the pigment of the ink
and then i shall learn
to read between the lines
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC
These pair of jeans don't fit round me,
clenching calves deceitfully,
determined to compress on me,
exhaustively I slice the seams.
Privacy, there is no need,
take my clothes let my skin breathe.
Filled with self integrity,
my freedom is my ******
Jun 17, 2010
Jun 17, 2010 at 8:58 AM UTC
Here's a poet's plight:
To force words to come is a fight;
Gorgeous nothings hold no light;
Meaning shall not bow to might.
Thirty thousand words or more –
All just sounds heard before;
But somewhere deeper there's a door,
A certain feeling from some core.
Or, in clearer words:
I have nothing Great to say,
but That shouldn't stop me anyway
From speaking when I feel I must;
No other way to reverse this rust.
Perfection is a savage
Curse to ravage the mind
'Round and round in circles, growing blind.
But of all the stones and stars
Or overpriced, shiny cars
The greatest gift of all you give
Is that you let me gently live.
You accept me as I am,
Tarred and scarred and marred with gray,
There's a thousand whispers, but they're all okay
When they won't be judged anyway.
There's this frustrating little tic
Where no words can quite click
Because no lovely language can compress
or stress enough meaning into a tiny little space
That could give a hint of a trace
Of the meaning that was felt.
Suffice to say it seems somehow insufficient,
Nothing Great, simply true:
You're wonderful as you.
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 1:58 PM UTC
(monsoon moments 1)
The lively colors of summer have faded
Blazing May afternoons have ended,
Clear skies are now ash-blue, sometimes blae
Blooming with soggy grayish ***** of cotton,
Ever ready to burst with crystal drops...
Monsoon winds blow.......then rain follows
Big, heavy, noisy raindrops hit the roof,
They pour longer........inundate the streets
Making them impassable.......................but
I'm raring to be out there when it falls,
Let its cold touch, give me goose bumps...
And waken every nerve in me...
Let it wash away the heat and humidity from my body
Let its steady flow, drench my short hair, flat to my skull,
Let it compress my long-running indecision: do I, or do I not?
I'd wait for all these to slide down and join the wet ground
For, I want to walk around....soaking wet, and barefooted,
Feel the grass.......subservient to the downpour
I want to dip and wiggle my toes in the softened soil,
'til floodwater reaches my ankle
'til I'm one with earth and water
And then I...
Would feel unburdened,
When I come in
From the rain...
Sally
Copyright June 9, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 9:46 PM UTC
Your words spin in circles
around topics that never change.
One place to the next,
everything stays the same.
Compress every minor inconvenence
until they shine like diamonds
in a pitch black sky.
Embed them in your skin.
Wear them like badges of honor,
even though they're scars.
Would have been better,
to just let the coal burn.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 11:59 AM UTC
Please understand
This is out of my control
Slipping though my fingers like the wholeness I had before he ransacked my temple
and shattered my only jewel.
Nauseating shame
Embarrassment at the failure to hide such weakness
Whilst knowing none of this is a reflection of my lack of strength
A triumphant survivor, a warrior, stripped to a feeble state...
Victim.
Not again.
Lacking empowerment and support, I shrivel
Violently collapsing upon myself.
Self destruction.
That glow in my eyes resembles a star
Imploding
Until my blank stare into the expanse of the past ricochets back the flashback
With more hold on the light in me than a black hole could ever achieve.
I'd rather fake lightness
Than feel the weight I bear compress you too.
This is my burden
I never want it to be yours,
But need so desperately
For you to feel it too.
Please understand
I cannot carry this on my own
Knowing this panic is irrational according to the present setting
Yet is so real to me otherwise.
Still broken, I flinch at anything resembling a threat
Even if yesterday it was neutral
Or even pleasant.
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 1:44 PM UTC
This body’s falling apart.
My bones are separating at the joints, pressing into my flesh, coming through.
My ribcage is cracking open sending splintering shards through my veins,
revealing a heart beating out of time.
Speeding up,
sending my blood racing through my body, down to my toes, up to my head.
Slowing down,
letting its beats reverberate through my hollow abdomen.
My eyes float in my skull
scanning, trying to find something to focus on, sending blank images back to my brain.
My lungs are dragging air down into them,
forcing it back up.
They expand and shrink,
compress and release.
I've forgotten the sound of my voice,
surprised as it stumbles out over the arid landscape of my tongue;
it is weak and damaged from disuse.
The space in between my bones is filled with what could have been—the fragmented fantasies desperately pieced together.
My muscles are dry, tight, and useless.
I am full of could have beens.
Brimming with retrospect.
My skin is stretched tight,
holding back every memory of every moment wasted—forgotten only to be remembered and regretted. My limbs are too heavy for me to support.
I am dragged down by them.
I am made immobile.
I am the sum of all these parts,
and it is not enough.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 8:14 PM UTC
I feel it starting, like a prickle down my spine.
My rubbery lungs expand and push
against my ribs.
Organs start crawling
up my throat
leaving a hollow cavity
which I must seal.
My heart is pumping faster
but the only thing to get my blood moving
is to fill my emptiness.
Hands shaking I scrawl a haphazard
paper chain to keep me from floating away
as my love looks on concerned.
“Can I fill it with a kiss?
A caress? If I whisper to you
will my words fall through your ears and
weigh you down?”
But anxiety
is not like drowning
and a life preserver won’t reign me in.
The only thing to do is wait
for me to compress my lungs
and talk my insides off the ledge.
Let me close my eyes and breathe,
give me room to reassemble.
I promise I will come down soon.
When I can concentrate enough,
the Earth starts shrinking
until its mass rests on my pen tip
and I can write the blood back through my veins.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 6:52 PM UTC
it is unseasonably warm
from across the neighborhood
******* ******
the rumbling masculine undertones
of his voice compress my heart
i crawl into my stomach
seeking shelter from a nonthreat
"liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar"
he spits
and i cringe
his anger pulses
every anger
that has ever been shoved in my face
whispered in dark rooms
the anger i have witnessed
pierce the skin of women i do not know
the rejected wounds i have absorbed
all wrenched from their hiding places
pulled in pulpy fistfuls
from the crevices of my body
he shocks my system
of sympathetic nerves
like lightning
my palms sweat
i close the window
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 8:44 PM UTC
icecaps come undone
crushing into the ocean
as she sheds her frozen tears
penguins and p0lar bears shudder
as their habitats recede
like the snows of Kilimanjaro
volcanoes explode
spewing smoke and ash like billowing pillows
into the stratosphere
diffusing sunshine's heat
like a cold compress
floes of lava melt glaciers
rivers of mud cause flooded folks to flee
fissures crack and snap from her pressure
towns and countrysides split
floors rumble and roll like the ocean
walls tumble, crumble and roar
bells toll an all too familiar melody
families cry out, wailing and ranting
chanting dirges of great loss
an inconsolable cacophony
rubbled lives lying in ruin
but she is not to blame
the earth is a no fault state
this is our doing
ecology's consequence
greenhouse gasses and other pollutants
have given her a fever
her pores are opening to vent the warming
she is not angry or vindictive
punishment is not her goal
and evil has not played its hand
the planet is just cooling herself
it's how Gaia gets her groove back
Apr 17, 2010
Apr 17, 2010 at 10:59 AM UTC
Inspiration grips my soul
And gives my mind no peace;
I try and try to let it go,
But silence baffles me.
Sometimes in the darkest night
It's dreams that haunt my eyes
And sometimes, inspiration's height
Looks about agony's size.
Ideas sometimes look like pain
And memories that hurt me;
And beautiful though my song may be,
Perhaps its roots concern me.
But art, it lies within the choice
To make a lie show truth
And find the love inside the voice
Of your heartrending youth.
Don't build your statues with ashes:
Compress them into stone,
And watch as sorrow clashes
With love that builds a home.
Darkness is no shelter,
But is an invitation
For light to burn the better
As fire: my inspiration.
Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 11:57 AM UTC