"convolutions" poems
The street
filled with tomatoes,
midday,
summer,
light is
halved
like
a
tomato,
its juice
runs
through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes
its ease
on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds
its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
****** it:
the knife
sinks
into living flesh,
red
viscera
a cool
sun,
profound,
inexhaustible,
populates the salads
of Chile,
happily, it is wed
to the clear onion,
and to celebrate the union
we
pour
oil,
essential
child of the olive,
onto its halved hemispheres,
pepper
adds
its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
it is the wedding
of the day,
parsley
hoists
its flag,
potatoes
bubble vigorously,
the aroma
of the roast
knocks
at the door,
it's time!
come on!
and, on
the table, at the midpoint
of summer,
the tomato,
star of earth, recurrent
and fertile
star,
displays
its convolutions,
its canals,
its remarkable amplitude
and abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
of fiery color
and cool completeness.
11.4k
Iris peels back
three generous petals,
ample in exposure,
a gravitationally drawn
dress, **********
with drops and folds, a downward-
opening, bares elegant anatomy,
stripped from the waist
of a lighter three petals, lifting,
inside, reflective,
reaching skywards, and naked
ribbed with natural frill,
raw with the colours of flower flesh
white tiger stripes
and purple veins,
curling towards the ground like tears
and lifting up like laughter,
with centered yellow streaks
that lead into the heart,
where another tri-petal formation
folds in on itself,
as if to contain some sacred secret
that is gently holding at her *****
a trinity
within a trinity
within a trinity
of beauty
her naked convolutions coil into
just the right amount of earthly space,
so perfectly held there in the air
with poised and dancing stillness,
the perfect allure
of a delicate goddess,
rooted in the ground
but living also
inside the I,
elevated by the gaze
into limitless imaginal expanse,
no mere flower, in relation
she is
an entrance
into love
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
I envy the cool darkness, now we're apart
And the warmth which wrapped your body:
Cocooned by your breathing,
The secret shadows and angles
Which gradually changed every hour
Like a dark sundial recording
All your limbs tiniest convolutions.
I know there was a sort of
Kabalistic synchronicity
Some algebraic function
And if only I'd studied more;
If only I'd applied myself better
I wouldn't have gotten all the equations wrong
Lost the notes, failed the exam.
I remember those once acute angles
How they fit so perfectly my body's contours
Our seams vanished together, smooth soldered
In the same molten dream; mouth to mouth
Torso upon torso, moving wave unfurled
Water of twin oceans, mingled-
Now it's only the moonlight that burns.
Mar 25, 2010
Mar 25, 2010 at 7:56 PM UTC
Helen sends me scraps of poems for repair. "Shreds of lettuce," she calls them. I fool around with them in my role as Poetry Doctor (see my banner photo). In her extended absence, I will post our convolutions. While the final product is mine, the vision, the imagery, the notion of the poem is all hers and therein lies the true authorship.
From Helen, Dec 2
Here is the last of the salad,
dressing not required...
savoir-faire [?sævw???f??
Upon a plate
of deliciousness
the lettuce
is usually
pushed to the side
to wilt
and be scrapped
into an
Industrial bin
were we all begin
as fodder for worms
turning garbage
into words
Nourishing
nothing
but our own pride
bon appétit
Helen
---------------
The Human Word Salad
Now it is dressed....
all poems, no exception,
the bad, the exceptional,
all begin
in an
industrial bin.
wormwood,
wormword
the ancestors,
feast on the scraps,
garbage letters discarded,
the wilts of alpha lettuce,
the word waste of the
every day beta jabber,
plate pushed-aside decorations,
all but none, bystanders
and they
turn them into words,
though inedible, incapable,
of nourishing life individually,
yet their recycled deliciousness,
unquestioned.
when
each sole word,
re-birthed in the compost
of the delivery room of that bin,
meet in the maternity ward
of our minds
words wed,
poems form,
and all the true nourishment
the world needs
begins anew.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
The trapeze artist without
trapeze,
encased within a paper weight,
reading through eye
glasses crafted for readers
astigmatic use.
This is the mind set...... this is the end truth.......
Being is embryonic,
to become, to the pupal larva,
a new becoming, Life.
II
Quantum leaps often end in tragedy
when the time traveler ceases to travel
The sudden stop!
Rapid communication......synaptic calibration......recall all yesterdays.
blind intellect one tenth of one second 15 seconds
The dimensions split and the bicameral mind appears two lobes
right and left, inverted vision adjusted for
mythic fusion,
creating abstracted convolutions
answering to them self. A planet in a galaxy of confusion.
III
Imagination finding place in the new electronic
institution, man made synaptical illustrations
from pixilated madness.
We take from this..............an
illogical extension of our existence that makes some sense.
We make it such
that it becomes
the most told lie
we believe without questioning.
Till death we do part.
IV
As I inhale looking at my past...my last past, well
in any case the past is where I just wrote past the last time
like now PAST.
Rationalization is overrated, intellectual ************
is for the cools, and catatonic haze is a new wave drug.
It is early in a new society's evolution.....
It is late in the face of time......
ergo quantum quandary quid pro quo
Ajerry / copyright
2013
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 6:34 PM UTC
Herein, laying dormant,
veils of reposed
secrecy 'neath
foamy seascapes'
frenetic passages,
languishing below
sunken treasures'
false facades of
reticently rolling
shrouded bluffs,
shaded of darkly impetuous
hued blood in
unceremoniously
bound convolutions,
a million ancient
undisclosed shadows hidden,
notwithstanding combative
rumblings of death's
unwelcome sycophancy,
depths of centuries'
old unparalleled stories,
whence hush-hush
undulatory influx
of defiant upsurges
and turbulence reside,
that of which only the
winds of indiscretion,
clandestine spirits
& gods could surmise
...as privileged moons watch over amaranthine skeletons
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 6:57 AM UTC
Life is pretty drunk
With all the madness suppressed
under the veil of formalities
With all the wildness hidden
behind rocks of normalities
My life would have flew if
you had taught me
Gravity wasn't the only reason
My life would have been LIFE if
you had said the heaven exist in life
not after life...
I have been drunk with dreams of desires and ambitions
I have been so destroyed with convolutions and conjugations
And I still act sober
with life such drunk
If only I had been informed
Life is not for drunkards
I would have refused my birth
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
Pass up until you have it
Wait up until you need it
Tell me the password
I’ll show you and light it up
Give me a valid reason
Inhale until you’re weezing
What are the magic words
Flunked conversations
You have the pedigree
I’ll stay up until your free
Blank revelations
Song inspiration
Pass up until you need it
Don’t rush you’ll have to save it
Tell me the password
I’ll show you and light it up.
They give you lame advices
Trippin’ the lane you’re passing
Timely decisions
They’re on a mission
Talkative boy’s on fire
He gets the double score
He does no picking
Swimming on double rivers
—
I’m just another option
The secondary mission
When he’s out partying
Practically speaking
Pass up until you need it
Wait up until you got it
Tell me the password
I’ll show you and fire it up
Give me a valid reason
Inhale until you’re weezing
What are those magic words
Anticipating
Stay put your inner spirits
Hit it until you miss it
What is the password
Tell me the magic words
My life is very tragic
One hundred percent logic
No fun and happy games
To feed your spirit
Show me your hidden feelings
Give me a point for living
Anticipations
And convolutions
—
Pass up until you say it
Wait up until you keep it
Tell me the password
I’ll show you and light it up
Give me a valid lesson
Inhale until you’re teasing
What are the magic words
Dumped conversations
Never to be belonging
Clingy from floor to ceiling
Am I assuming
This love is blooming?
I’ll take you up the mountains
Reserve a room what happens
I don’t initiate
The pathway to heavens
You may be here just wond’ring
Why are we doing nothing
I am a loser
But never a user
Now you’re showing your body
You are getting too naughty
Tell me the password
I’ll keep it then light it up
—
Igniting the inner senses
Decluttering all the messes
What is the password
Tell me, I’ll act it up
Pass up until you see it
Wait up until you touch it
Tell me the password
I’ll show you and fire it up
Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 12:57 PM UTC
Calm down, walking down
Twisted stairs, I fall down
I see the sky as pale as my skin
with convolutions and drowned out confusions.
Acid rain drops fall on me like a water torture device pounding nervously on the side of my porous head.
I got soaked up in the neighborhood with the angry sinners and no-good winners, beaten up by the losers, users and the black and blue bruisers
These angry streets bullied me into submission and called back promises it couldn't keep
Now it is time to stop walking backwards
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 9:16 PM UTC
What a sublime impermanence is to be found
In this cavalcade of inanity we know as love.
What once heralded joy, pledged promise divine
Now spawns a spurn that admonishes mine.
What delicious torture a man must bear
If he is of the lover's ilk - Cupid's doll.
What must one do to abolish the scars
Left by the ravages that heartbreak can mar?
What tumult must be borne within the mortal soul
In order to appease the convolutions of the human psyche.
What a breath a malaise for a logic gone dead,
The emotional hierophant left in its stead.
What is the purpose to the words I am writing,
The ramblings so obfuscated on which my time is wasted?
What a beacon they serve to those jaded and lost -
To those that have loved and tasted the cost.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 10:28 PM UTC
I've sworn off dreams,
Willing, instead, gray nights,
A sleep of the dead
To match the day.
That loss of control
Over thoughts that
Were once so carefully
Jailed and forgotten
Is hard to regain
As sun arises,
Consciousness reigning again.
Memories of faces, their places,
Feelings best left suppressed,
Otherwise find freedom -
Unchained to dance in
Convolutions of mind
That bend time,
Like letters folded
Bringing beginning to end,
Blurring new words,
Ink not yet dry -
As awake, at work,
In midst of a chore,
Suddenly expecting
Young lovers will be sitting,
On that stoop over there;
Night's scenes will still dance,
Steal away the days,
And life become one long
Reverie.
Mar 21, 2010
Mar 21, 2010 at 4:34 PM UTC
passing by the roadblocks
of those utterly devoid of inspiration
I grind my gears in frantic agony
through artless days and pastel nites
the last drops of forbidden nectar looms
far back on the parody of my tongue
and I asleep in the drivers seat...listening
to the horrid sound
my gear teeth clinched hard
to placate the need by the promise
of gold plated plastic ornamentation
fulfilling the impossible climb
the austere instigator of forgotten melodies
slides closed the gateway ahead
in clear violation of the unwritten laws
that govern all worthwhile endeavor
now those gates wreak of cynical deviance
nirvana open to all who seek to reach the peak
so far beyond impossibility ...wide open
by bane of fence.. no recompense for that gate
with my tongue overhung from morose overdose
in failed attempts of finding the trace
of even the most scant memory
now lies frozen in the throes
of twisted convolutions
while my nostrils fill with acrid smoke
as gear teeth commence to melt
suspended halfway up the impossible climb
I am pushing hard the acceleration
aided by the rigor mortis of my seizure
asleep at the wheel with all wheels grinding
while those below the uninspired guardians
stare up in unimpressed confusion
where fire and smoke screams of agony
as the dream possessed begins to melt
reaching critical mass of inevitability
caught between the high mark of false sanction
and a bottom of craggy rock distortion
like a monsters teeth and open maw
awaiting with patient disregard
at the wheel the visionary sleeps
amid symbolic ritualistic boundaries
od'D on the wreckless need
for heights not guaranteed
but out on the windswept plains
of wordless twists and rigid tongue
the flaming mass shudders to that
unrelenting silent rage of aberration
then begins the tumble to the patient maw
the message flashes through
the sudden adrenaline flooded brain cells
like the flashing signs of hiway construction
last message passing by
in bright flashing neon
tomorrow will bring inspired risktakers
who now know the starting pattern
because I can say I made it beyond
all odds where none before have gone
by passing the dreaded roadblocks
at the far end of human imagination.
I od"D on the wreckless need
for heights not guaranteed .
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 2:12 PM UTC
I don't know about your convolutions
Neither you do about mine
But we came this far, we did
We conquered, we lost, we forgot
While reading Frankenstein
I built you in the snow, I drew you in the sand
We saw construction and destruction
Walk together, hand in hand
You think the wind moves on when it blows?
But when love blows and dies, where does it go?
Does it emulsify in my heart again?
I wouldn't ever know
Why not be grateful for this evolution?
For it brings just another poetic revolution
And you know you don't have to
Compliment
Compliment my ****** poetry anymore
Or my face that has vaccine scars
Or my hair with split ends
For we are split too now, like two dead stars
Things that make me sad: permeable curtains
The rusted hooks on my fairly old Brassiere, hair fall
Not using conditioner, slowly losing it all
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 9:32 AM UTC
***stuck in a darkly whirling vortex
spiraling out of control
landed in twister's head
heady twirls of whiplash'd senses
tides grasp in the rolling upsurge
rushes in to suffocate my breath
ripples of truth flood upon the crest
heaving gushes of a rocking influx
loop'd in this turbulent sea
convolutions bring me to my knees
these polluted waters endure
takes down this helix,
conclusive in tsunami's surge
final disturbance overwhelm indecisive flux
blows frigid winds to engulf emotions
deluges of insanity's pleas silently shaken,
obliterated by an overpowering plunge
wiped out in a drench of overflowing despair***
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 9:00 AM UTC
I wish you and I would intertwine
like a silver-blue thread through the darkness,
and unravel ourselves,
float like dust, illuminated by the sunlight,
so I can't tell me from you.
I wish we'd be the small, overlooked tones,
making up a melody,
that faintly linger on subconsciously.
Me and you should be the wind
and the willow,
and kaleidoscopic convolutions of the sky,
of the mind;
a bouquet of flowers,
shared,
with a once-empty park bench,
for some lonely souls.
Their unseen smiles blossom in return.
There's plenty of life, even in a graveyard,
There is simply,
lots of love
between
all things.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
It's about politics, sad conflicts, Living in a world you just can't fix
Holding on or letting go, Finding peace in your soul
It's about being low, or getting high, in betweens and don't know why's
Finding faith or losing ground, Learning how to live in the now
It's about cashing in or checking out, knowing when to shut your mouth
Children playing, people praying, saving earth from decaying
It's about being nice, being kind, knowing when to speak your mind
Getting rich or going broke,trying to breath when you want to choke
It's about moonlit nights and sunny days, the sometimes gray along the way
Talking trash or speaking truth, staying connected to your roots
It's about you and me, Them and us, Knowing who to blame and who to trust
World Emancipation and communication, Atheism and New religions
It's about dedication, determination, spreading peace to other nations
illumination and infatuation, using moments when they're given
It's about Inspiration and education, ending wars in other nations
Empathy and benevolence, compassion for the innocents
It's about enlightenment, Sacrament, convolutions for solutions
Unity and harmony, standing up for your convictions
It's about being free, knowing peace, Having faith in God within
It's about being warm or staying cold, and Knowing Love can heal the world
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 10:35 PM UTC
**That night she was stopped
that quiet whisper of love
that gentle touch
it was questioned
the lights shone brightly on them
the windows rolled down
they questioned her
they questioned her love, her faith
what did her name have to do with it?
or her age?
she loved him, she truly did
they asked her how much money she took
money against a measure of time with him?
what did that woman mean?
"she's in a uniform, don't question her" he said
but she protested,
because she loved him, she truly did.
A societal mess- that's what she became.
A name in the newspapers
a shame to her household
a grave mistake.
he had to leave, her father said
you mustn't be fooled, her mother said
her crying eyes bid him farewell
he vowed that he'd love her
he vowed he'd be there one day
"it's too convoluted now"
Fate decided- so be it
Then it changed.
She walked down that narrow alley like every day
she was afraid to use the front door
everyone stared
they said horrible things
why subject herself to it everyday?
it's painless for her to take the back alley
no one notices, she's just a shadow
They followed this gentle shadow
they followed her footsteps
the tinkling of these earrings he had given her
they cautiously waited till that moment
till that moment that they could destroy her
bit by bit.
no one came in response to those blood curling shrieks
no one shone a light on them
no woman in a uniform asked her how much she would charge them
no man called her dishonorable
there was no one at all
just her empty eyes and susurrus protests
she laid barren, exposed in that back alley
it was dark, no lights
no concern, no questions
no allegations, no threats
no mistakes, no convolutions
it was simple really as she lay there
at least she died in honor, right?
At least no one would accuse her now?
Wrong,
that would continue, how naive she was even at her end
as she went from a shadow to a memory
without love
without life**
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 9:42 AM UTC
stimulate the illusion of destitute empires
children climbing ladders
letters lost
stamps from stockholm
in the dead of night i sift through the foliage
arranging leaves on gravestones
hazy convolutions
faint ***** hums
black crows wander through thick pines
eulogy: impertinent
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 2:18 AM UTC
I twist and squirm under
***** nails,
You will not reach me
In my titanium
I rock back and forth
But do not burst
I am the sought after
I am meaning
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 8:38 AM UTC
Many conspiracy theories get the connections and convolutions right. What they get wrong is the distracting end game, when the truth's so clear. Just look at the results. The rich and powerful always escape culpability, escape punishment. If the evidence proves too blatant, creating nets of legal and PR complexities keep the farce of "justice for all," while maintaining their Old World nobility.
Victorian inbreds and mobster charlatans, cutting corners and destroying civic morals, just to grab up more Earth. Soon their cheapness will became ubiquitous. They'll all end up in imploding pleasure submarines, dining on deadly raw foie gras, or barreling off a crumbling bridge in a driverless car.
Aug 13, 2024
Aug 13, 2024 at 11:51 AM UTC
This convolutions delusion is diluted by the hands of a contusion.
An unrealistic fusion in the brink of a solution left the girl as an elution.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
Have you seen beauty?
I ask you,
I plead this unseen eye of the beholder,
Show me beauty
Tell me of passion,
Paint it across my windows,
Paint my bones into beautiful,
Mold an angel out of ash and soul,
That is who I am really,
Ash and soul,
Have you seen beauty?
It is, It is, It is
It is the death of your mother,
The loss of your assets,
The hunger of your mind,
The convolutions of your gut,
The impairment of sight,
The ignornance of rythm,
Bury beauty,
Bury conception,
Bury gifts and wounds,
Bury reminders, memos, alarms, missedcalls
Burn a planet,
Take its kind lovers and send them to a white light,
a blue earth,
an earth ripe,
Have you seen beauty?
I ask you beacuse I have,
With eyes shut and heart open,
In you,
Molded, kind angels of ash and soul.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 4:50 AM UTC
There are convolutions
and convergences
on life's highways and byways
What's in our in-trays goes out
And returns one fine day ahead
When the tray's contents bounce back in
We know they were never gone
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 3:48 PM UTC
Waking and sleeping our way
Past our losings of you,
Thinking you forgotten,
Ourselves we fool.
Proof lies in dreams now common:
Your brother sees you in one house and then another...
Happy times as though you've never left,
Your mother sees returned embraces,
Powerful reunions, tearful faces,
Embraces flee morning alarms....
Who knows the dreams to come?
My convolutions mix beyond my ken;
I have no will to stop them, else I lose all memory
Of your face, your happy laugh, or rebel yell;
Losing sight of children, a father's constant hell.
Weary days and dream-filled nights
Toss us as we pine,
A daughter and a sister lost,
An aunt that we can't find.
The past seems never far away
What can be done, we do...and pray.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 7:18 PM UTC