"convergent" poems
Positive thinking
or negative thinking?
Or think real?
Then clear thinking and
straight thinking
divergent thinking
and radiant thinking
convergent thinking and
dynamic thinking
rational thinking
scientific thinking
or no-thought thinking
God-mind thinking
or free-thinking
Oh for goodness’ sake! –
just think!
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
When we look back
there is nothing but blotches
A faded remnants of the
brown-eyed school attendants.
Uprooted like floating log houses.
Convergent whims of the ******* children.
I'll be sure to take you down with me.
Down deep into the cellar.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC
It seems to have spontaneously combusted, but it didn’t. The disease struck long ago, brewed in the petri dish of Depression, WWII, and convergent technologies. Well before that, really, but that was the point of critical mass. By the 1950's, it was an epidemic. The independent Republic of individuals, small towns, coherent communities, distinct cities, local diners, shops and stores tied together with two lane blacktop was crumbling. Things only got worse faster. It was a disease of toxic, lulling dreams. American Dreams. And standardization was its crushing foot that flattened everything and left a homogenized wasteland in its trail. The old gods vanished and the new became despots. Go anywhere in America, Boston or Biloxi. You can’t tell where you are. Most shop at the same stores (real or virtual), eat at the same chain restaurants, wear the same clothes, gulp from the same Internet, swallow similar information, and think (within acceptable variations) the same thoughts. Even sin has become tediously consubstantial. Knowledge has been supplanted by content. Words are squeezed of meaning. Everyone is an expert and no one knows anything. Except Siri and Alexa. The Dreamtime of consumerism, consumption and conformity dominates. All that remains to come is the dominion of AI. Then we will all be watched over by machines of loving grace, free to graze in bovine bliss in the cybernetic meadows of bland utopia.
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 6:54 AM UTC
Your bones creak like old,
abandoned houses and it has
always been my first instinct
to explore them. My mother
always said that I was never
good at making the right
choices, but she doesn’t
realize that this isn’t a forked
path; it’s a convergent one.
Everything seems to lead to
you, and I’m sure if I’m
obsessed or just a mess.
You should know better than to
trust a girl who tries to find a
home in haunted houses. When
the furniture has been removed
and the paint begins to peel,
that’s when you’ll find me. When
the sky grows dark and the
shadows grow long, that’s when
you’ll find me. In the darkest
hour of the morning, following
the hallway to the leaking tap,
that’s when you’ll find me.
I’ve always been drawn to
devastation and decay.
Abandoned houses are a life
sized self-portrait. I will re-paint
the chipping walls. I will dust the
shelves and sweep the floors. I
will move in my own furniture
and leave the lights switched on
at night. I will fill the house with
music and laughter and love
once again. I will not let your
bones grow cold. I will not let
myself grow cold.
When you wake up and find
me sitting in the spaces where
your rib cage doesn’t
completely cover, I hope to God
that you’ll find it hard to
breathe.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 6:41 AM UTC
Appended streams exhume the dreams that surface in conscious guide,
As photon beams augment the seams transmitters must abide.
The quantum strings of knotted ties,
Entangling's of worlds collide,
A vortex of spiraled rings,
In scattered sets convergent glide,
The convex spacial vacuuming's, synaptic points electrified,
A hex, insatiable, stochastically adjoins frequencies over-amplified, as complex oracle valuations weight choices to decide.
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 7:19 AM UTC
Let this be spark to collective action!
The exercise of natural freedoms and equality.
Sever attachments, break from your safety,
from the shores of who you think you are.
Set sail with faith,
placing ideologies in abeyance.
Set sail with soul songs,
join with saints and strangers
harmoniously singing.
Be ALL as One
in open repartee.
Brothers and sisters, all of a wild nature–
none left uninvited.
Friends at heart all, all welcome!
Who shall be chief navigator?
Trace sensitive fingers on contour maps the Universe makes.
As we navigate, we invent.
With tiniest of maps (the same is the largest
with infinite pathways) we are destined exactly
to found and inhabit New Earth.
Who brings gifts of intuitive sensing?
Everyone?
Shall we draw straws?
Any can buddy up with the experts
at the rational sextant.
Every single she and he of us
is a guiding star.
Accordingly, let’s begin
convergent conversations of stars.
Of the humans who choose to stay behind, let us love them.
Let us love them and let’s be on our way!
It is enough now that many have had good intentions,
have spoken authentically, enthusiastically.
Yet they do not wish to enter in.
Each in his or her own time.
Others have voiced opposition,
demonstrated resistance.
Some others — stuck in apathy,
in numbness, powerlessness.
Is fear of ****** death
the ultimate stopping?
What is living if living itself
is death?
Are you one who has ears
to hear?
Are you that very passenger
ready to disavow, to disembark?
Have you awakened
to your own alluring whisper?
Let us begin.
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
No math
No match
No match
Says the girl who lost her ruler;
Anybody can take advantage of me
I'm left at the counter point blank;
Staring at people taking over their worlds;
Faces against each other;
Venn diagramming each other:
I've heard this live
I want to escape, to leave everything in a pinch of salt
I'm going to faint
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 5:38 AM UTC
The connecting notion is "blindly, without foreseeing."
From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/temerity>
Sad, you, city child, silly old man says.
Sad, you, city child, saying so hateful a thing,
saying you would hate being a bird,
saying you cannot imagine having nothing to do,
but fly around heaven all day, scrounging
for scraps, ah
child,
see those crows, hear their song,
are they laughing/
yes, at you.
I believe all black birds laugh, coo,
if you care, is common to doves, coo
to caw,
as a bird, these are common sense,
saying, I am here, now, if you care,
let me know,
otherwise,
this is my rest of the moment, time to feast.
I come to
eat the bugs that eat the dead,
caws, never any famine
until fire, or
catastrophic reordering of earthly things.
As when men lost sight of time signs,
trains of thought, fought all natural
signs of times too long for one
generation to know alone,
but watch,
hide, and watch.
Isotropic radiation field
pressure moulding matter
from raw mater, really
immaterial substances accruing
oomph
to act as a force in field, from
out to in
becoming one in time and nothing
more.
Or drifting into sleep as sound
silence imposed enwraptured wait/
A mighty rushing wind…
Eight billion voices
counting cadence, 30 per,
once intuned as day to night,
global steps through ever empty
time continuance field-set-frames
expanding as we imagine unbelieving
unimaginable,
in a structure so big,
us, no mortal takes so many breaths.
We listen, loosening tight why-knots in
wish reports so oft negated in time today,
I am in this wind passing as gas
of eight billion breathers, but
between the exspelled hex
human 'spiration, so soon
seeming freebird familiar
with the bass line,
my toe taps a happy dittydahdit dah didah.
- haps as happened,
- may haps per se
- FTA
sent into the wind every minute or so.
keep looking, soon we see, you, there
suddenly blue shifting seeing me seem
no longer red and running away,
but we both are like fairy floss,
pale blue dot convergent
gentle minds, fitted with tamed tongues,
hearing laughter welcome the transformation.
Aug 14, 2021
Aug 14, 2021 at 6:40 PM UTC
Slipping into convergent cushions
my heavy limbs wrap into the upholstery,
and the opulence of the warmth
heaves me to the much sunnier side of my heart.
The light filters through the canopy,
whilst barefoot tiptoes introduce you to I,
springing to your embrace.
Cheek brushes cheek,
your sturdy hands wrap my waist;
"I will spoil you,"
you whisper,
"everything will be okay."
I drive my fingers into your shoulders tightly,
though slipping from you.
Spilling onto the spread I once came from,
peeking retinas grasp a filtering light
between broken blinds.
I chase you,
deeper into my covers.
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 5:53 PM UTC
Introducing my roommate Leong to my Saturday morning cartoon binge habit proved to be one of my BEST ideas EVER. She’s a very animated watcher, frequently laughing, gasping in horror and, in the end, delighted by these silly shows.
It’s almost a case for convergent evolution, how two creatures, from opposite ends of culture and the world can be so similar.
I find myself watching her, for her reaction, as much as the shows themselves - I’ve seen them before but I rediscover them vicariously and emotionally through her. We can spend hours dissecting character arcs and plot twists - we’ve found a small, stress-free heaven.
It’s 10:40am Sunday morning and Leong is dipping celery in barbecue sauce for breakfast again. “THAT’s just gross,” I deem, holding my hand up to block my view of this travesty.
“You should TALK,” she says, “Flexatarian!”
I gasped, like a slapped Chris Rock in the face of this naked aggression. “Why am I a Flexatarian! I demand, my mind reeling for context, “because I ordered the potato burrito at taco bell?” I look around for some sort of rescue or validation, but we’re alone.
“That’s so FAUX,” I say, in an injured voice, shaking my head sadly. “I’m by the book carnivore,” I say, holding my fingers in a three-fingered girl scout pledge.
“And you have to live with that trauma,” Leong says, scooping an extra large dollop of sauce with her celery as I make gagging and heaving sounds.
Apr 24, 2022
Apr 24, 2022 at 12:11 PM UTC
you see my honourable
rabbi,
i have this problem,
Sauron just keeps
igniting me...
i either buckle and fall
over laughing
on the second h of
the gemini -
the ** the woman bit,
or i am struck with
a need to catch my breath
(my vowels) ah eh:
exasperated,
surd-surfing: f k p c s t -
gargantuan waves of
effort... in genetics
you can say xy -
but that still makes no coordinate
sense, given the z-antics.
Alice looking at the H -
and when i wasn't looking
at the YHWH i swear i could
see a sun, a sea, a mountain -
quantum physics **** right there,
a melissa mccarthy punchline
on the ready.
yep... crude trigonometry central:
starting with sharpened cosine -
and then pinpointing on the Y -
convergent exponential...
plus: so little calculations
were involved.
i swear to god... mingle the latin
phonetic encoding with
the hebraic key,
and you can attest to seeing
a million 'allah'u akbar'
cockerels shout in simultaneous
detonations and
in a Solomonic guise... barely flinch.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 11:01 AM UTC
do not stand there with a bloodied blade in palm and deny your tectonic collisions-
perpetually convergent.
the cracks in our palms not products of birth,
but of rebirth,
of whirlpool concussion,
of night-time demon chants-
our stomachs both steel and starch.
i sense no longings for statues in your ambivalent pupils-
only condolences for the outcasted gargoyles.
you've taught me this value of illumunation in the moonlight of nights where the yellow center-lines were pale-hued and tear-stained.
in these fearful beds of cotton and thorn,
you are the blood and gauze,
the bent mirror and the authentic starlight,
the unknown cave and the trusted headlamp.
your feet are muddy as hell and you're giving your favorite meals to our darkest parts.
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 12:43 AM UTC
Be confident that
You do not know
What is or may be
What is true about your
Self or others.
Be confident you should
Not judge
Everything human is in your
DNA
Every potentiality can be
manifest
All destinies
Your possibility
Be ready to know a
New Truth
That you may be
Forgiven for what you
Once Thought to be
Is not
Here in this is your true
Confidence to be
Found that to be
Is not to be
That If I Love I am Loved is
The basis for my confidence
I will overcome
I am
Confident that
I will be
Humble
For to be so be is for
All
Our convergent destiny
For my mother with
Love
t
New
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 12:09 PM UTC
Convergence
Two lines drawn
Non-linear episodes flowing
jet streams of ink
What matters in this dogfight
Matter vs. anti-matter
Longitude and latitude
There is us
Page upon page we desire sequence
A door forced shut
Shutters blow open
Life arrives unleashed
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 5:33 PM UTC
*Complex is the road to the apex in a man
Determined in those formative, young years,
Where infantile and adolescent socializing skills
Develop mind sets that aren't resolved by tears.
For in overcoming challenge with objective rationale,
In perusing detachment’s crucial eye,
In acceptance of a criticisms biting, sharp array
An admission builds perception to the sky.
A common demarcation twixt the realm of work and play
Renders blurring satisfaction with one’s lot,
When we love the things we do, satisfaction shall accrue
While convergent thinking blends the skills we’ve got.
Passionate objectivity played with energetic calm
Holds the secret to the quest to make it fun
With devotion’s steady hand in a thought provoking man
Progress harnesses misjudgement’s smoking gun.
The skill to listen to the crowd without rebuttal yelled aloud
But have the ability to firmly have your say,
Means naivety’s restraint deflects acceptance’s constraint
Assuring separation’s wheat from chaff, shall pay.
Be humble, Sir, and proud as you broach your game, aloud
Taking pride in the achievements that you yearn,
Let emotion’s heady swell temper what you do so well
Yet dwell within that place, wherein you know, you learn.
Complex are constraints found retaining hard complaint
But intelligence shall always take firm hold,
Where beauty in this beast is the judgement factored least
For endeavour rules the best beget the bold.*
Marshalg
Auckland
10 August 2016.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 6:26 PM UTC
Flickering candles of promises, not enough
Being a spectator of these everlasting black fireworks is tough
Beams of convergent love reached an end
Smoky shadows still follow me in ways I cannot comprehend
Being the victim of unrighteous pain, I rebuff.
May 18, 2020
May 18, 2020 at 6:49 PM UTC
Convergient boundaries
force rock and long forgotten heat
to the surface
just as babes are forced from
the idle disarray of thoughts
of which form the womb
and into the
alert, calculated and controlled thoughts
of which form their lives
Daily we tread on what we love and hold dear
All of what keeps us whole and healthy and alive
stomped out and replaced with plastic
and bad news
We mold ourselves into disfigured amalgamates
to conform to an image that we did not make
We are unnatural
Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 5:10 PM UTC
The sea was black
What do you get when you mix:
Red
Blue
Yellow?
Primeval opaque primordial mash; marinating the multitude of lifes mass
Energy polarized and divided
Each gaseous faction lurching dredging dense cumulonimbus depths
Exhausting volume's finite designation
Convergent catalyst; cataclysm creation
Brightness bursting blacks truest shade
Ludicrous lashes cascade, unfurling hysterically from crystal prisim shrapnel; struck and shattered
Focused lazer pushing downward; lunging upwards
Coarsing carbons culmination
Ancient artistry; amino acids
Brilliantly binding
Briskly building Romanesque colonades
Lintels streched over arches spiraling into domes; Civilization's ornate chromosomal architecture
Rendering relic reference point by which all will be considered
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC
Early every morning he rose
With hopes that the sky had given its rain
And the sun will bid him with its shiny grace
To save himself and who he knew he could gain
For life had devoured him, as rust would eat iron
And been conscious of death, he lies in readiness for
The demise – ready to curve out to the slips of lights
Departing the rays his sun had left behind; his actions
And bleeds: the subtle truths that is quite contrary
To greed, his selfless walk that is quiet in ways
Quite convergent as per his words and deeds
He lives his truths, not wishing for death
It might’ve took a lot, but all he need is
To find his peace from the dreadful of looks
Those eyes that are bend on decaying his dreams
The hands that have battled against his bountiful
The very figures he had sought to make proud
A shame – he’d succumbed to let them down
They had baited and waited for their catch
He smiled n’ watched em burn as a torch
For every man fights to make his strike
Each leaving his foes reeking in marks
So that they can tell the ready living
That the unskilled are left for dead
He pats himself alright at his heart
As those twin tears rolled down his eyes
As a child he used to think – that life is going
A little slow, that every day was another go by
That he would just work between his close ties
And let them think he’s unaware of the dealings
That he didn’t know about what they are doing
No one can read mind, so let’s keep it inside
Let us dazzle in this, he says; but at the end
Tis only the pain that controls him the most
This story: a poem that only he can tell
Sorry that he had to let you down
Always Reach Out In The Best Way You Can
Nov 9, 2019
Nov 9, 2019 at 2:50 PM UTC