"culminations" poems
We watched the sun fall down and scrape its knee again, across the horizon.
Effusing amaranth, carmine, and cochineal across polluted vista.
It felt petty to issue guttural laughs, or engage the myofacial crescents beneath its visual lament as the Earth turned its back again.
We watched the sun rise, bruised, tender and shy this morning.
Its muddled contusion obviated by the gauze of fog.
A mottled neophyte -
Luminescent crepuscular rays defied dregs of interstellar debris and cloud.
Aching to kiss your skin -
In stellar cloud nursery, it eschewed the torque of orbit and gravity - eras before verity of your essence.
Humbly settling concentrically about oblate sphere, and gaseous tome.
Latterly - It altered the atmospheric pressure on the other side of the planet a week antecedently, as you clung to your dream lattice, and Earth innately turned oblate nucleus.
Its intent –
A veneration of you.
It bade the atmosphere convey a breeze echoing about your dermis, as it gilded your frame laconically, betwixt shaded steps beneath cloud and arbor.
The sun yelled at me at its pinnacle today,
Pallid bone – molten - miasma of rage
Its core missive garnered inertia – coronal plasma warping ellipsoid factions in inflections of elusive filigree
Pirouetting spicules spattered smelted torrents in the dismal anchorite
Atomic schism – silent but felt
It stoked humidity under shadowed niche - casual vaporous smears evinced no clemency.
Flesh torqued, and seized beneath itself, briny globules shed from puckered pore.
Culminations of sensitive fluid sacs scorched into the shallows of my chassis.
Insignia knit in cellular shrapnel
The sun ignored me today – or perhaps, it was I it.
Enigmatic tenacious resolution – an echo of its gravitational collapse
Inverse thermonuclear fusion
It is not fear in a relationship that keeps you apart, it is neglect of the infinitesimal.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
The Girl from Coronado
Dark brown eyes the brownest hair the most captivating was the faraway look in her eyes the painter
Searches for her in lost dreams she materializes on the sharp trumpet blast then she lingers as it turns
Softly as the street in front of the Saint Louis cathedral in New Orleans she was as wistful she was the
Bleeding torment held in battle field shadows her way had the razor sharp that cut through pretense to
The real the meaningful what was that certain something that held you in awe was it the southern sea
Breeze that was absorbed the enfolding touches that were exuded from her depths there are still
Waters then there is Gloria is it fondly promised like flowers floating on the tide the sweet smile that
Cuts and divides the waves like a surfer coming out of the Banji pipeline her brown hair blows softly it
Has enlightened on the breeze as fragrance unspoiled unidentifiable it enthralls as she walks the sandy
Sea swept beach in the distance she passes as a spirit cast improperly in a human role to disturbing to
Fetching she makes appearances in Celtic dreams of misfortune she brings trouble as a winged wonders
Those that are not for evil but hidden in them are clandestine secrets that open new corridors of
Simplicity that brim with honor they are the culminations of promises long deferred now they are at
The door to restore she possesses powers that are seemingly strange but they are beholding the
Glimpses she allows trigger eager disruptions the common falls before her gaze you find establishments
That seemed impossible could she be Isis presumably not but just bearer of her traits one who gives gifts
Of the natural world to artisans from normal items joy is in them as fluid emotions they suppress but
Only for the pure cause of making greater results occur the tiresome is abolished the clay is gold even
Though it be hidden from many to the few it is cherished sought and redeemed by love in a sea side
Town on the southern coast of California her alluring beauty you too can possess this just open yourself
seek the opportunity to give to others your name will be favorably spoken like the graceful girl from
Coronado
May 12, 2012
May 12, 2012 at 3:00 PM UTC
Who am I?
I am the Skeptic type,
Surfacing placid as each side creates waves,
Pulling on heart strings for their own self ameliorate,
Heated controversy focusing on Health care, Religion,
and Hunger debates,
Inevitably resulting in ******* up charges for war to undertake.
Equality's repercussions leaving our freedoms at stake,
While inflating our Economy
only the rich take the cake,
Consistently keeping the poor at bay,
One resolution would be to properly educate.
Before you sell into the poison they produce to control and degenerate,
Look into the disputes staged to manipulate,
Open your eyes and see we're being left with no other options but to obey,
For when they deny you your right to bear arms The Constitution goes up in a fury of flames,
As we sit back and watch as they replay the tape.
I am free yet I am caged,
Caressing the bars of black and white mind frames,
Constructed to destroy thought and leave the masses divided
in a collective state of confusion as their questions remain,
I no longer associate with my neighbors today.
Empathy is a far cry full of ache,
Frayed by the misconception that lives are part of a game,
Monopolies and greed breed nothing but hate,
As a silenced homeless Veteran plays his violin drowning in pain.
We're left searching for some kind of circumvent,
In a country that prides itself upon convenience,
Our golden gates are not always what they seem,
If born into poverty your chances can seem some what foreboding.
Think of the future aside from your own
and find hope in opportunities for the much needed change we all see and know,
With so many imperative predicaments there is plenty of room for growth,
Obstacles only providing the likelihood to overcome and to approach ,
For strength does not accumulate for those who are not familiar with struggle,
With all these unresolved culminations there is plenty to live and fight for despite your troubles.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 2:13 PM UTC
How should I recite my life?
Was it a full sentence
or was it parted in two?
Did it entail big words
or meaningless clichés
shouting carpe diem?
Did it have depth
or did length bare it out?
Did it trip on punctuations
or did it flow painlessly?
Which parts lingered on tongues?
What orders did it give?
Did it fade among greater
paragraphs or was it magnificent?
How should I recite my life?
Should I clothe it in borrowed
metaphors or should I simply
read it out loud, word by word,
stress the culminations, the loud parts,
give extra sound to the little words?
Was it a meaningful sentence?
Will it linger on and get carried
in the mouths of men?
Will it serve as a citation for
great living; or will it simply be
forgotten as the sentence ends,
the last syllable is whispered
and the full stop
is finally
engraved.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 3:58 AM UTC
mazes of fire and ice
mazes of notes and letters on pages or dreams
re-written at pages seams
slip the triple disked knife
and plow through the world vision
seen as a prisoners gun
using mental capacity to over rule mental castration ,
take the blue pill NEMO!!!!
and swim - in the all pervading ( surrounding )
magnitude forces of universes glow -
making possible all to be known. .
stalling into the oceans
78654610978893836485048262537859694826284949505958585575674652424242416112
Binary code
is the internets verse
throwing up pages and screens that look nothing like numbers
but are in actual fact
the elephant in the room
a magnitude of worlds - exist on inter fabricated planes
plane 1 - 'real life'
plane 2- macro cosmic
plane 3 - micro cosmos
plane 4- number plane ( this is the binary code )
Plane 5 - mental world
plane 6- dream world
sixteen dimensions
further than christian or Buddhist invention
but a plethora of random incidents that seem to have a pattern
that sinks deeper into oceans magnificence
arn't we all fishes ?
arn't we all snowballs?
aren't we all just culminations of distractions dissertations
born and thinking
well maybe we should do something now we are here....
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 8:56 PM UTC
The beauty of poetry
expands far beyond
the immersive imagery,
tongue-painted metaphors,
and whimsical similes
used to portray the artists'
vivid hallucinations.
No amount of consistent,
thorough editing,
no amount of precision
in thesaurus culminations,
nor the long-learned,
dextrous techniques,
fined-tuned throughout
fortitudinous refinements
undermine the essence:
the exact moment in time
where a poem is
experienced, engaged,
and ultimately conceived---
the epiphany.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 10:34 PM UTC
my skin is hellbent on flames
tears are grease in my lashes
nothing about big city concrete
is lavish
Rock back and forth on cement
to forget I rock back and forth
on your bed
and what it never,
never meant
who dare tell me I'm sinful
instead, pray I stop this addiction
to pins and needles, menthol
stop telling me I'm broken
when I never worked
to begin with
chains chokin'
Rockefeller pout infectious
I will own this ******* world
it will be the death of us
I'm only a rough draft
in the middle of culminations
but this big city concrete
it is death, determination
isn't this all
what I'm running to
chasing
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 2:38 PM UTC
I’m alone in watching a coal burn
a solid object internally lit.
A tongue of fire
whose flames don’t lick.
A heart
The allusion, now clear,
yet the edges remain blurred.
Fire and flames struggle and fight,
without a lifting wind they’re weak.
Their culminations are short lived.
Deadened ashes.
Lust
Embers remain
after the excitement is snuffed out.
The slightest breeze kisses their cheeks
and they show new life.
Glowing unconditionally.
Love
I’m alone in watching a coal burn out
slowly
s l o w l y
s l o w l y
f a d i n g a w a y.
Even when the fire is lost,
the embers of love will burn on.
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 2:09 AM UTC
You darken light
so shine bright
oxymoron's juxtapositions finding oneself in pondering situations
humor in each step , fairy lights guide the path less traveled
feeling the peace pieces fit together
jigsaws of unabridged meaning
simply seething with the intimate feeling of moonlight
hopping from idea to idea to thought to thought
love's boundaries are naught and love's hugs are many
loves kisses flow plentiful
indigo rivers on far off archipelagos snake into brown rivers flows mixing merging
the same happens in the soul
culminations and starters
Pudding just a little while after
A lot around , a lot within , a lot in addition to the whimsical nature of life's flight of fancy
floating feather drops.
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 2:25 AM UTC
Passion screams, for she's my ****** dream
touches, kisses, exotic misses, every bit, extreme
Tigress, lithe and playful, eyes aflame
reaching every peak, and fall, calling out, her name
She's the reason, why I give a ****
culminations, excitations, defining, a simple man
There may be flames in heaven, or hell
that burn eternally
But my heart can only sing
the flames, of her, and me
Dec 29, 2017
Dec 29, 2017 at 9:10 AM UTC
Wading the tide pool
under moon, and sun
consuming every part, of you
our ecstasy, not done
Teaching as we learn
touch, and pleasures fine
eye to eye the waters flow
I am yours, and you, are mine
Bury myself within your scent
bathe in your wet reply
dripping smooth, and ******* met
with screams, and moans, and sighs
Reaching culminations
both sublime, and heady
washing ashore, climatically
with rhythm strong, and steady
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC
Winds from Africa, blow from the East
News of fire spreading nearby me
What's to be done here? What's to be gained?
The gasoline spreads, we soak up the hate
Culminations of what can go wrong
Do all of the dead deserve to be gone?
Does us the living deserve to be here?
Do all our futures deserve to be feared?
More murders makes ****** more accepted
All walks of life crash at intersections
Instead of sparing time, letting others pass
We spend our lives road raged, being unmatched
END CREDITS
Then we crash in traffic. Gasoline leaks
Sparks from the friction. Death senses who bleeds
You're crawling out your car. Gas line aflames
Tailgating fate and there were other lanes
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 10:53 AM UTC
They can’t make out the stars
on this moonless night,
though the torn curtains lay
stripped of willful ignorance.
They can’t see the green left in the stalk
of a dying marigold bloom
scattered on the floor between
shards of a broken vase.
It’s hard to find the seeds after
Autumn’s breath stills the dirt,
the day is night-taken and the
undying questions tiptoe around
the tapestry laid out, unbelonging
from the crushing grief it has
woven into the well cared thread.
The lavender and ginger tea steam
whispers upward, toward the popcorn ceiling
where the moonstruck wander in
tight knit culminations, songbirds floating around,
wilting feathers dropping as stones fall down
in unrelenting storms of chaotic speeches.
Tap tap tap on the fifth story window
hollering up from the snow frozen grass roots,
incoherent language sauntering around the table
at thanksgiving dinner, dim faces
stretched out alongside the turkey.
Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 7:42 PM UTC
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]
I Do Not Count the Clock
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 12
I do not count the clock when I’m outside
I do not count the leaves, fallen and sere
I do not count the silver in your hair
Though I celebrate them all the same
(But not the clock; there is no love in clocks)
These golden days have beauties of their own
Their richness born from the promises of spring
The culminations of summer’s growing days
Crowned with silver by the first falling frost
I do not count the clock when I’m outside
I do not count the clock when I’m with you
Apr 8, 2024
Apr 8, 2024 at 8:11 AM UTC
Tears that miss,
Pain that teaches,
Withering of vigor,
Memories forgotten,
Final farewells,
Beauty like,
The giving breath;
The escape to death,
The culminations of *******
Bottom the list of desires
Nov 28, 2021
Nov 28, 2021 at 5:27 PM UTC