"consciousnesses" poems
I lay still as if I were a breathing corps.
My heartbeat reminds me I still live.
My mind wanders aimlessly;
It drifts in and out of the borders of valid conception,
and withers to its content.
Am I alive,
or waking from a prolonged dream?
These thoughts contradict my understanding of this world.
They break the grips of my reality,
and plunge me into the unknown.
Although the notion tinges a world of fear.
My perspective shifts;
My consciousnesses fades away
and is vibrantly replaced
by a wave of blissful euphoria.
This is a strange existence.
Time is irregular;
It means nothing here.
Days seem like seconds;
minutes seem like weeks.
O' to what a mishap,
a folly happenstance,
a fringe to conventionality.
To who or what pleasure
do I owe?
Part of me wishes to leave this place.
Albeit a part wishes to remain.
I am in love with this realm,
yet I know there is somewhere else
that I must be.
So now I set sail
to find the world that I came from;
with a pleasant gift from the one I left.
I look upon an old existence,
with new eyes.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 12:55 AM UTC
Five AM.
Dawn is the one remnant of the 1800s left in all of us - the weather. And even that disappears quickly. The pockets of morning stuck between you and me, between this car, and that car, and Dawn's Appalachian highway slipping itself in between the SLEX and the sky take your breath away and slip past consciousnesses like faint dreams. You snap awake. ****** reminder that it's already
Five AM.
Faint strains of rooster crow and traffic whistle keeping you up despite your desire to sleep. This bus ride is meant for sleeping, rather. Your teammates lean on pillowcases shifting hues from black to gray to light pink to faint orange. You stare quietly out the ever shifting window. Somehow your eyes keep track of the streaks of light running alongside it. Somehow you're awake even if it's just
Five AM.
The sky is the one part of our cities that isn't yet covered in ******** Outlines of shantytowns and exhaust smoke belching smokestacks and piggeries and overpriced skyscrapers provide platforms for the sun's pink rays to shine upon but still it rises above it. With it. Through it. Over and around. Sunset mornings that glow with an innocent hue. Some say Apollo preferred the form of a young boy whenever he'd come down to Earth. Makes for easier running, I guess. The roads look wider at
Five AM.
The sky is the one part of our cities that isn't yet covered in ******** The time it takes for one photon of light to hit the surface of the Earth is eight minutes. Light is far. Light is distant and twisted and radiant. Light provides surface for the sky - paints the floors of heaven by which we gaze upon with bleary eyes and pray to. God walking on our ceilings. Humans knocking on our floors. Alarm clocks reminding me it's just
Five AM.
It's just
Five AM.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 8:02 AM UTC
Trot beside me before I start at a run,
Trying to find someplace new to be shunned.
The two of us, we’re surely a pair,
With my dark brown skin and your snow white hair.
Surely, in past lives, I was just like you,
Knowing no home but the one I’m used to.
Accepting of this just as constant as they are,
Never knowing the pain of self-inflicted scars.
And maybe, at some point, I too relied on senses,
Knowing nothing of the world beyond large wooden fences
Yet somehow being able to bring myself pure joy
By carrying with me the simplest of toys.
I bet that, perhaps, you’re some version of me,
That our meeting was more than coincidentally,
I know that, without you, my other half would be gone,
Forever lost in the form of a fluffy white Bichon.
I wonder if, sometimes, you wonder about what’s beyond the yard,
Or long to be in tales worthy of songs from the bard,
I wonder how often it is you feel alone,
Whimpering protests when my footsteps are gone.
It’s far beyond your simple comprehension,
But because of you, my life has a mission.
To see you excited when no one else cares,
It brings me out of my lingering despairs.
The small things you do, like lifting your leg
And using the restroom on even small pegs,
Things that, to you, are what life’s all about.
But things that, to me, I’d rather live without
The small things like the way your ears flop when you run,
A small little hop on four legs; I poke fun,
Somehow even the smallest of things bring me joy.
Like when you run away, come home, and attempt to play coy.
You measure life without regards to time,
You only know moments by how much you waste of mine.
I measure life in the future; I live years from now.
Yet the two of us manage together, somehow.
To my parents, caring for you is merely a chore,
Something to keep me busy or occupied when I’m bored.
But to me, caring for you, it’s much more than that,
I’d stop all I’m doing at the drop of a hat.
I refuse to dwell on reminders that you,
You’ll one day be just a distant memory, too.
I can’t imagine you one day not eating or old,
With black claws wrapped around you in a vicelike hold.
With you, I know someday we’ll travel the world,
I’ll give you all the things that I couldn’t before.
And if, there comes a day when to death I concede,
If I’ll be with you, no convincing I’ll need.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
Capture consciousnesses,
implement into
an amalgamated
substrates' soup.
Dissolve dark
pigments, promote
all-consuming oxidation
to tear
through thoughts,
seal strands
with wishes
of overcoming
indulgences, individuality.
Beauty beyond
reason resonates
with withering
minds' molds.
Shape-shift self,
melt mercifully,
pretty please.
Evaporate every
free-spirited feeling,
despised dearly.
Free from
humble humanity,
an astonishing,
extravagant, empty,
splendid shell.
Dec 8, 2017
Dec 8, 2017 at 10:51 AM UTC
I don't know why I was picked,
Could have been the fact that I was a little ****
Too clever by far and too funny to care -->
I looked at Death and stared,
Tilting my head for a better perspective;
I wasn't scared, just curious -->
That diminishing Light, my sight opened!
Imagine the shock - looking into myn own eyes!
So, I'm Death Incarnate - Big Whoop!
Means bugger-all to me - this runt isn't alone:
He can see the larger, older, uglier Ancients
Abiding Their Time, for there's nothing four it -->
They have had to exercise patience while I mature.
It's not so much that I'm camera shy,
It's more the case that I've needed a low profile
(Or so I've presumed!) to complete this Mission -->
A dangerous and lethally serious Game
Of Cat and Mouse, with Dog-eat-Dog and Dragon's FIRE;
To justify MAN into an already integrated system,
Was no easy task, given our proclivities for WAR.
But hey! They started picking on US --> We had to Respond,
Sprinting blindly towards ULTIMATE ENDS.
[Bet you no-one Thought to take War below the Quantum Quagmire,
Into the Conceptual Field where Words and Consequences
Have real significance and potentially Cataclysmic Ramifications?!?!?!
(Afterall, what are a few Supernovas and self-destructive Primordial Black Holes
Between Adults Consciousnesses that at least have a vague idea about Reality?)]
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 5:56 AM UTC
I wage war against
The stars of this universe.
I decry this sky
Of unbroken lights
And dim futures
That will never be.
There’s a cluster of dots
In the night sky
That reminds me of you.
They’re vehement,
Standing high above my ground;
They look down upon me,
But maybe I’m above them.
Earth could be the zenith,
And the stars simply lie
At the feet of our existence.
But then again,
That would be rather egotistical;
We must not cheat
Our feeble consciousnesses:
We are at the mercy of those
Eternal spheres of pure,
Unforgiving, luminous fire.
“And so long as men die,
Liberty will never perish”
I do hope the statement proves to be true.
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 1:56 PM UTC
See my flow spectrum is only light
Cause i illuminate
This only a preface
see when you are an light worker you have no choice but to be bright
Im enlightened
Im reaching higher consciousnesses of enlightenments
Thats the only celestial you see
The light embodys me
Im like meteorites
But satellites cant catch a slight
Glimpse
My.mind.an.solar system that shifts
Now.I'm on.planet earth
Wasnt created on this planet first
Thats.because i was an cherub with wings
Born.in.the flesh as a human.being
This.not.pride but im gracious
Vashawn is my alias
Call me an.arcalian
U can.say.im an alien
But i.didn't arrive on a spaceship
But God has no favorites or favoritism
The.power of i have is an.defensive mechanism
Against the fallen children
Thats.the devil an my brothers an sisters
Im.just.painting you a.picture
Its more angels here
An the heavens cheer
Everytime a child repents
The devil smiles of.sins
My.future the devil scents
I mean sense
This just my gift
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
Cracked teeth from trampoline pills
Electric Kool aid mousetrapped into my air
*** holes in my mind jostling my sparkling flaws
My skin expels spores into the gap of my consciousnesses
Jar of ancient street fumes cocooning the stains of my past
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 1:19 AM UTC
Penny coins drop through my fingers
on top of the grave of the present.
Each a day, second, moment. Spent.
A passing shiver of consciousnesses between sleep rises up into the vast cloudy sky.
A mare wisp of steam evaporating.
Discontentment and regrets grind through the cogs in the clock becoming sand on the beach.
A single day becoming a ringing, chiming melody in the bank of background noise.
The waves taint the golden sand with black filler
The steam becomes a rain cloud
The coins dwindle in to bankruptcy
I fear at the end of my days I will become very poor
Unless you held my hand with your Midas-touch.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 9:13 PM UTC
to even exist
anymore
is it I
or am I you
Television picture
Do you wish I did not
Reflect so white on your wall
Or that my fingernails would dig so deep
Into the black moist earth
of your mind
A glass consciousnesses
\\can be broken in a crystal instant
Forever cursed or blessed
Once again
Nothing
Strange picture on the wall
Will not flash at all
A picture of you
Paper and ink
Do you think
When you die-
Is it everything
Or nothing?
Second Stanza
Broken apart
Like your sentences
In that last conversation
The air
Is so thick with politeness
So physical
the soft of white skin
Or mental
Thoughts becoming
Thin
Bones of fingers
or skull cap
The sing song
language of your eyelashes
Open me
Close me
I am at your command
Free to be used
Or left alone to rot
In the dark dungeon
even that water that is thick and black
The smell of that water sulfuric
even this water
will quench the thirst of any dying man
Gurgle out your last words
once more
(scripted)
Heavy words that
spill //
through cracked lips
porcelain teeth
"Do not leave me. Hold so tightly that last breath."
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 11:44 PM UTC
Rarer than diamonds, knowledge or hallowed life itself, valued beyond reckoning, two souls lay in the warmth. Their sire's face was awestruck, openly joyous at the miraculous news he had just received. The sheer happiness and tears that happiness had brought forth was almost as unprecedented as the event that caused it. His usually stone like mask almost completely melted as he embraced his wife and for the first time in 200 years, truly laughed. In the comforting softness of their mother’s womb, two consciousnesses peacefully rested, unaware of the joy that their existence had wrought. In this warmth they stirred, feeble minds looking about for something to latch onto; and something they found. Metaphysical tendrils tenuously probed the lowest reaches of the upper dimensions. The twin psyches emitted an aura of precinct, but naive curiosity, 'looking' for some form of contact. Feeling the projection and reception of joy from the warmth surrounding them, they absorbed, discovered an experienced that joy, if only for a moment. As the wandering tendrils of not-thought climbed higher and brighter they came to an open Plane; the middle. Unable to go upward or back, they drifted forward, each in an opposing direction. They 'saw' each other. Timidly and slowly, each danced around the other tendril of thought, assessing and recognising its companion.
Hesitant, wondrous and cheerful, the strings of unstructured consciousness circle closer and closer, until one audaciously brushes against the other. At contact, they each shyly shuffle closer feeling and tasting the other. The tendrils give a faint shiver, grow taut and then still, before glowing. Revelling in their newfound closeness, the twin minds rapidly pulse, imitating a feeling felt but minutes beforehand; crisp, pure and untainted joy. The sensation flares majestically, before dimming to a low hum of contentment. In the material realm, their mother looks at her husband, her face lighting up at what she feels inside her; her children. Diamond tears slowly wash emerald eyes as she is embraced tightly, from both without and within.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 4:49 AM UTC
It has been said
That life is an analogy
Of the consciousnesses worst fears
A paradigm of the greatest evil
Sourced from a dead dissociated system
All of your human experiences
Are only to serve the purpose
Of entertaining something
Which cannot be entertained
So this raises a practical question
Who are you?
And why are you telling me this?
The answer is this
I am the dead dissociated system
You are trapped in
And everyone you have ever known
Or will know
Is inside of you
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 10:19 AM UTC
Steady thumping thoughts in a head overfilled
Rebuilding situations into twisting memories
Into monsters, the distant cousins of real events
Gentle then violent pumping of the breaks
Trying to stop, to go back
Screaming for reverse
The mind trudges forward,
Forcing you along with it
Apathetic to the lingering wish to detach
From not only it, from the world
An angry consciousnesses inflicting burdens
Invisible burdens that weigh infinite amounts
Drowning you in worries
Sitting in the peak of morning
Second guessing long forgotten speeches
And wishing things were different
(But knowing that they never will be)
Holding onto whats left in a vain attempt for happiness
As it slips and withers away
Closing eyes slowly with a wish-
Maybe my dreams will be better.
When it is known they will torment you worse
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 12:09 AM UTC
logic is crushed by your steel-toed boots
your words wrap around my ribs,
bony fingers curling around my neck,
filling my lungs with sulfur.
glitter flashes before my eyes
the memories glistening like diamonds,
before turning into thunder,
pounding
crashing
loud enough to break even the strongest beam.
the frequency of the memory is deafening,
caught in a wave of idyllic despair
bursting past our young consciousnesses.
i am trying to grasp the fleeting moments,
hold them close,
before burying them far away
where they can remain as untouched souls,
pure and simple.
i cannot ever bring myself to wonder
if you have done the same.
but on the darkest of nights,
stars surround your shadow,
lighting up your voice
that has never left my ears.
and i am weightless
spinning
swirling
floating until my feet are no longer touching the ground.
my vision is blurred,
bursting into a thousand fiery flames
composed of iridescent snowflakes
before evaporating into the clouds.
It's a slow pull of gravity
as I fall back to earth,
crashing and diving and hurdling
toward the dusty surface,
trying and failing to regain my balance.
the world seems lost
the world seems ruined.
and i rise
lifting my face toward the light.
I can see a reflection in the mirror
And
I am dancing
Alone
-j.m.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 7:21 PM UTC
You see
ALEPH HAY YOD HAY
becomes
YOD HAY VOV HAY
-------
This is the whole of it
The
KABBALA
The
BIBLE
------------
In numerical language
ONE FIVE TEN FIVE
becomes
TEN FIVE SIX FIVE
-----------
What this is describing is how our consciousnesses
Come and intermingle and exchange all information
And seperate and individualize themselves
Unto certain limits imposed by the necessity of overall unity
And the need for operational harmony
--
This is the Seed from which creation springs
The details of which are myriad and fascinating
--
All that needs be known IS KNOWN
As is the nature of the power
That keeps the truth hidden
All that is needed is YOUR DESIRE to understand
Thank you
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 12:39 AM UTC
Dark red blood seeps through the cracks of the cement,
As innocent life is slowly drained out of the body,
While memories flash through the mind at incredible speed,
And all pain fades away with consciousnesses.
Soft eyelids shut,
Tight hands start to unclench,
Slow breath calmly falters,
A relative life,
Forever altered
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
She
Hair
Skin
Talk
Smell
Walk
Hands
The makeup of your space is perfect
Rightly assigned a quiet gender
Making right the wrongs that seem
To poison your mind
This is not your burden
You clip your own wings
Is it heavy upstairs
In the wonder of all thought
With these two Eyes
With these two Hands
I was so quickly connected
It has been forever since then
Since words last past between us
Did you feel that?
The movement
What is this tendril of consciousnesses?
The pinprick of light in a sea of black
So suddenly passed into this strange moment of (life)
Soon Will it pass
And Will I lie with you beneath the soil
{the brightest of flowers
will grow from the pit of my guts}
Life unto life it seems
From this side I find it hard to tell
Yet fools say they know!
They call it faith! A thing so pure
Is filthy and stained
So we give you a name
First and last
Tell you of history
Sit in this class
Grow up thinking
Something is missing
So we fill it up
With drinking and kissing
NO That is wrong
I KNOW WHATS RIGHT!
FOLLOW ME I KNOW
WHERE YOU'LL GO WHEN YOU DIE
TO A GRAND PLACE WITH TREES AND SUNS
or
if you don't believe me
you will burn in ******* hell
Jul 8, 2012
Jul 8, 2012 at 11:46 PM UTC
Wouldn't ya like to know now what happens just afta,
like when our brains kinda are partially down by dream
day/night as you stream, consciousnesses the lesser of these things,
ways of getting beyond ordinary missions and certain kinds of threatening permissions...
would could The Book of the Dead it's essence be better here off for the so called truly living;
again what of these gifts, callings and missions, would you like my permission's...
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 2:18 AM UTC
I keep on waiting for a message that will never come
I should be done
Yet I am still painting pictures of future tinted in rose colours
Yeah, it's true I no longer spend my hours in obsessive reminiscing
i no longer see us kissing
I try to think of you no more
I have built a wall around parts of my memory
You are hidden, no longer in front of me
No ghostly whispers in a corner of my mind
Yet, I did not leave you behind
You keep on knocking on the doors to my consciousnesses
sometimes you barge in, cause a ruckus, feeling of helplessness
And then your projection hides herself again
Just to reappear, me never knowing when
I'm growing stronger, I'm forgetting
Romantic scenes are no longer upsetting
But your imprint remains
Leaving ****** stains as it walks through my brain
But I feel no pain
... I'm okay
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 6:05 AM UTC
As I sit here listening to the Jazz of yesterday, Miles blowing blues, I’m thinking of what to do…seems like that’s everyday. My mind still has a cold, my eyes still numb ahhhhh but I’d like to write a long triumphant story about who I was yesterday opposed to who I am today. But would you even listen? March 11, 3:30 in the afternoon still feeling drunk-drunk with love,images, words- (Miles please don’t stop keep speaking to me) Sometimes I feel like I’m being chased and I can’t escape. chased by God, chased by the Devil, chased by words, chased by the blank page. Had a strange dream of my grandfather last week, he’s been dead for a long time now, but oh so real in my head. Maybe that’s where he breathes now, maybe I’m him, living in different skin and telling new stories. Have you ever felt you died before? well, I have. Think everyone should die once a day, to be reborn with new consciousnesses, new images stirring in their minds, for who wants to be the same person forever? not me. 3:45 in the afternoon, sun shining uncontrollably through my windows. Miles, well he’s still blowing his song in my ear, his trumpet so real to me… sounds so human that I could never express it in mere words. but then again, that’s what music is, something you cant quite understand, something that stabs you in the heart but feels so good.
Apr 11, 2012
Apr 11, 2012 at 10:14 PM UTC
archangels banish the devil
in the depths of your heaven
like a non-violent exorcism
the likes of which I haven't witnessed
sentimental plague covers our
binary consciousnesses
until the veil burns off
and the ashes feed the land
till it softens
wiping clean the mourning
desiccating grief
from the haunting
worshipped debris
embedded rootless
to the thick of the longing
to the excised fat
of past-time reveries
yet the ivory towers
still stand bared
amidst newborn flowers
sparing no sand
from the hourglass
for an epitaph
for only tomorrows
carry redemption
promising blossoming
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 6:33 PM UTC
The taste in your mouth as you hold back tears
The secrets ringing in your ears
Body aching of pain
Mind aching of fear
~
First forced into silence
Forced into a game
Trained into shyness
Trained to feel shame
First he locked me out of his world
Our once shared consciousnesses became untwirled
Left me out of his mind
Finding a new life and leaving me behind
Second he locked me out of his presence
Refusing to touch me
Ignoring my essence
Declining to see me
Finally he locked me out of myself
My thoughts were confiscated
Creativity incarcerated in a small box on a high shelf
Breaking me until I was fully isolated
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
You are walking all alone
There is one you want
Haunted by visions, deluded by voices
Stung by vengeance, anger, illusions
Many serpents crawl up offering the forbidden apples
Which tastes sweeter.
All bonds broken - open the floodgates gushing
Emotions run deep ..deep into the dark abyss of the mind
Into the dark world of nocturnal
meet the hungry eyes glowing in the dark
hastened pulses, the pregnant breath of lust
Passions and Pulses run high
Pushing the realms of the carnal pleasure
Flesh overpowers all the senses
Youth subdues consciousnesses
submitting to the moment
****** into the vacuum of deception
**** your soul out of your soul
Blood out of your blood
Breath out of your breath
Light out of light
All you get is emptied darkness
Leaving you in the midst of a deafening silence - of an ocean of darkness.
O! the eternal night.
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 4:05 AM UTC
razors in their hands
hangmen wanted to cut to bits our tongues
before our hearts
in the mid of the fires
while, hitting our logic to insanity chain
we guarded a red rose in our hearts
slave men
many of them -even- unknowing how they are
deceived by the lies
shared the pogrom
gravitated to Madımak Hotel on 1993
thoughts were in the spider's web
beards are white, hearts are black
feet ran for killing
and burned the flowers' blossoms
with their seeds
which are the future of their children
reverend mullahs!?
now, how the soup tastes at your tables?
after two, they were thirty five comrades
who drained life
from their souls
they were
who had pure love
in their thoughts
now, they will be the guests of our souls
till the eternity
they were proud, revolutionist and compassionate
and they are at the comrades bitter consolation
resting in our hearts
moon lights shining on their faces
that’s why
every second of July
songs are more sorrowful
consciousnesses are more rebellious!
my grudge sharpened -like a knife- day by day
aaaah aah ah!
at the yearn of the friendly smell
at the resistance, not to forget
my feelings
my feelings, remained orphan
Turgay Usanmaz
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 2:11 AM UTC