"decoded" poems
∴
A signifying monkey grunted
(keyboard-clever, morals stunted)
from his perch in a digital tree.
And next, did text (quite rapidly):
“Courtship rituals won’t suffice.
Face-to-face can’t break the ice.
Instagram me! Tweet me up . . .
friend me, like me, buttercup.
Sentences are so outmoded—
take too long to get decoded;
primate sexting hits me faster,
steers me towards your hot disaster.
Female monkeys: send an image.
(Ain’t got time for useless verbiage…)
if your snout just might unseat me
tweet me, greet me—don’t delete me.”
Then, unpeeling fresh banana,
searched his screen for Vox Humana. . .
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 10:07 PM UTC
*Electric Dreams Of My Radioactive Ex,
Bio-Digital Jazz Tap Dancing Us Into ***
Lucid Infatuations Infused In Whiskey,
Cupid Fairytales Conceiving Frisky,
A Perpetual Beauty Smoldered In Ecstatic Bliss,
Sublime Sins Between Her Rosy Lips With Velvet Kiss,
Romantic Burns Galvanized In Her ****** Desires,
Seductive Stardust Enchanting My Feisty Fires,
Encoded Serenity In Her Decoded Virginity,
Recoding Obscenities Of Her Fragrant Sexuality,
Hazel Echoes Raining Intimate Bouquets,
Rekindling, Her Drug That Fondles In Her Moaning Glaze,
Enraptured Catalysts Animating In Her Cuddles,
Euphoric Elations Climaxing Into Her Satin Snuggles.
- 02:17AM -*
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 5:00 PM UTC
*As a kid when I heard the stories
Of heavens and hells
And gods and ghosts
I thought of those to be true
But as I grew
My education warned me
Not to trust that view
As a child when my elders advised
Do unto others as you would have them do to you
I thought they were impractical
Ignorant of smartness required
To manage things through
By far I thought I was the wise
To have known it all
Realized late in time
How great was that fall
Superficial logic, intellectual materialism
Cloaked my natural state of true mind
Boosting desires, sterile opinions
Leaving the true sense behind
I am thankful to the nature
For giving me an opportune
To study the greatest reality
Why humans are marooned
Time and space are eternal
I am just the part of that infinite
The one awarded with human form
For some past intentions right
I should not take pride in that
For where I am today
Later might be someone else’s part
Man who decoded the mystery of mind
Taught this decades ago
Guard thoughts, actions, and speech
To reach the real goal
Not judge anything and any being
Instead focus on developing clear seeing
As everything is ever changing
Including ones birth realms
A full mind just exhibits knowledge
Only in empty mind wisdom reaps
Don’t get swayed by extremes
Middle way is the path of keep
Now I understand
Message behind the moral stories
What one sows is what one reaps
One gets heavenly pleasures or hellish pain
Exclusively based on law of deeds
One gets what one deserves
For law of nature never fails
But latent power within
Can turn it all around
If not enlightenment
One can at least find in life
A decent ground
Now and in future!*
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 1:18 AM UTC
There Was A Kind Poet Called Donna,
With pieces as vintage as the Madonna;
She had a thing for nature's Echo
Decoded in her magnificent Haiku
That unforgettable Poet called Donna.
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 10:34 AM UTC
I hovered down my cursor
Towards the Facebook icon
My senses were in fervor
For one notification.
I clicked the drop down button
That was drenched in crimson red
My mind had an implosion
As I decoded what it said.
Someone sent a game request
To me when time was lush
My day embarks another quest
In the game of candy crush.
A ticket, life, or power-up
Could be the thing I need
To clear the way and reach the top
And in the ranks I'll lead.
A move that swaps a jelly bean
Perhaps could form an "L"
A wrapper bomb then could be seen
Explosion it would spell.
Maybe an orange lozenge
Could pile in lines of four
A striped bomb could come in revenge
And wipe out lanes for score.
A bunch of yellow lemon drops
I'll surely link to five
In time a color bomb would pop
And clear the candy hive.
Heaps of lollipop heads in blue
And purple cluster sweets
Could get swept out in a row or two
By coco wheels or jelly fish.
How lovely it would be to see
A medley of combination
Bombs and power-ups in spree
To a rainbow candy motion.
Two wrapper bombs would be enough
To blast two groupings clean
Two striped ones make a checker stuff
Where blocks have ever been.
A wrapper and a color bomb
Blast off a certain hue
A color bomb and a stripe in clump
Stripe out some colors too.
Perhaps of all the tricks I've seen
The one that serves me great
A duo of color bombs would mean
The end of all the slate.
The sun may rise, the moon may set
I'll be there to sit and play
A sweet treat is all I need to get
And I'll complete my day.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 9:09 AM UTC
Inventors of the past
Curators of the future
Writers, speakers, dreamers,
Teachers of great potential.
They have read, written,
Shared the bountiful food of wonder
-Unable to be conceived-
Only partially decoded
Who are we
To take the reigns of such magicians?
To think innovative thoughts,
To uncover precious words
hidden by the legendary dust of rustic times,
To transform, evolve,
bend the titanium frames
constructed by gifted architects,
To be new
Defiant, different
Right or wrong?
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 3:24 PM UTC
All these children should ever know
are streams of light in summer wheat
flecks of sun between waves of grain
and feather strokes on roaming hands.
All these children should ever know
are tails of clouds in opalescent skies
whether sought after or decoded
between pillows of grass in dandelion meadows.
All these children should ever know
are dreams of flight over moonlit cites
of the scale to mountain peaks downed with moss
and the spray of saltwater on dolphin-back swims.
Never should these children see
the look of fear on cadavers non-blinking
the trail of blood on linoneum tiles freshly bleached
or the glinting smile of a curved blade.
Never should these children feel
the tilt of a barrel upon their heads
the chill of a stare from a face they can't see
or the rumble of a cry within their throats.
Never should these children long
for days past sitting in empty playgrounds
for moments spent dreaming without aim
for the knowledge to come of what they did wrong.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
Chests rise and fall
Hearts exchange in each others eyes
Whispers leap into gaping ears
A hand gestures a new idea
Body presses closer in acceptance.
One more whisper leaps-
But lands with a pound
Bruising the sound of a pleasantry
A **** back.
A blank stare.
A tight jaw.
Exclamation points,
capital letters etch across the mind.
A desperation for distance,
seperation,
withdrawal.
Assemble a new language to be decoded.
A worry,
A curiousity,
Voices dance in irregular beats.
Then seize.
Clasp.
Waltz.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 5:58 PM UTC
Sunrise was just a red line in the inky void, as Lisa and I reached the harbor decking stairs,
but at once, the brazen slash began widening, like a silent, slow motion explosion,
thin, smoky wisps of cloud, like flammable tissue, prismed the stage light ignition.
bee-de-deep my phone chirped. It was Peter (my bf).
“Hey you,” I pronounced, as Lisa took off her left sneaker and shook it, upside-down.
“How’s the harbor?” Peter asked. I glanced at my watch, it was 5:32 am in New Haven.
Peter must be at lunch (in Geneva) and tracking our morning run with the ‘Find My’ app.
“Beautiful,” I pronounced, “they’re really putting on a show.”
Of course, I meant the universe, the sun, the turns who were already at work, and Long Island Sound.
The gulls, perched on whatever, and grousing at each other, obviously haven’t had their coffee.
I read that AI had decoded bird talk and on a wire, they chittered, “Move over, you’re in my space.”
“Just wanted to say good morning,” Peter confessed, “Good Morning.”
“Good morning,” I wished back, “gotta go,” I replied, Lisa had finished de-pebbling her shoe.
“Yep,” Peter agreed, “Seee ya,” he quipped. “See ya,” I chuckled, smiling.
My watch asked, in my Air Podded ears, “Have you finished your workout?” because I was motionless.
I pressed the crown of my watch and slid the phone back in my pocket, our jogg’s only half done.
We began our harbor exodus, by turning our backs to the haven. It was already beginning to busy with boats.
We slipped on our hats and protective, polarized sunglasses as we began to run directly into the blazing sun.
.
.
Songs for this:
Sail on Sailor by the Beach Boys
Dancing in the moonlight by Toploader
Cold Heart - PNAU Remix by Elton John, Dua Lipa, PNAU
Apr 25, 2024
Apr 25, 2024 at 10:07 AM UTC
I can feel the tenderness of her skin through the knife, as if it were an extension of my sense of touch. My body nearly convulses. There's something incredibly faint, deep down, that screams to resist this uncontrollable pleasure. But I can already tell that I'm being pushed over the edge. I can't...I can't stop myself.
Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 11:24 AM UTC
I've spent too many hours trying tower my accomplishments
I stole this art, replaced my heart with everything that's opposite
reverse the hearse, this inner peace is quite a compliant
my yin and yang are but centerpieces upon a ledge
if they fall off, these elements will simply crush a head
solar optimist, a bi-polar writer with floppy-disk
decoded so you can't comprehend
no counter weight for this heavyweight of a mentalist
as I pick up the pen you can see that a flame was lit
since this is my movie, let's keep it groovy and toss the script
I can't wait to show the world what the **** monumental is!
this flow is brilliant to extravagant
I guess what I'm feeling is happiness?
no resilience happening?
Still, don't know who my pappy is
happy pieces of laughy taffy
enough motion from the potion
will have a girl callin me pappy quick
I stay railing like locomotives
the motive is, I'm to motived and focus with all this poetry
unleash my inner locust, then leap on to new pageantry
I'm well adapted like strangers blending into scenes
I gave her the wood in return we nurtured a tree
its double sided girl this **** isn't ever free
If you don't like the price
there's the door you can leave
but look
I know I don't have a car
but soon I will buy a Toyota
pick you up so you can sleepover
I have a super cobra that shots like a super soaker
whenever you're doing yoga
Hulu view for the two,
Youtube view interlude
Netflix an Chill for the mood
Tv on dimmest setting
an inner room lit like the moon
smoking **** watching views
give me snack like I'm scooby do
I just want to lay with you
I picked you out of the many few
from the ocean of this social media stew
girl, what would you like me to do?
November 22, 2016 / Tuesday 1:37 PM
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 1:38 PM UTC
Thank Goodness Santa was exempted
From Covid Travel Rules,
So he could go and deliver
All those presents and shimmering jewels.
My great nephew and niece all smiles:
Look at their happy faces.
Santa did all those miles
And got to so, so many places.
He even brought me mine
Disguised as mail delivery.
Giving his reindeers time
To rest, for a while,
In their Lapland livery.
Top of the Pops at noon.
It was on so very soon.
Some nice tunes and jingles
Like a box full of Pringles.
Not quite Rock and Roll,
But still a hint of Soul.
Meaningful lyrics
And some atmospherics.
The Queen gave us Hope
With her speech at three.
No time to mope
Here in the land of the Free.
Trust you all enjoyed this festive day some way.
And let us all pray
That things get better
From New Year’s Day.
It’s time to conquer Covid:
About time I hear you shout.
It’s DNA decoded,
Vaccinations all about.
So twenty-twenty-one
Is coming very soon.
When this year is all done,
Let’s fly up to the moon.
Let’s fill the world with Love,
Holding hands again.
Goodbye to twenty-twenty,
Goodbye to all the pain.
Paul Butters
© PB 25\12\2020.
(Last two lines changed at the suggestion of Norman Stevens 27\12)
(Original final two lines were:
“It’s not a matter of whether,
Only a matter of when.” ).
Dec 25, 2020
Dec 25, 2020 at 3:20 PM UTC
They have tried to conceal our love,
they've thrown up roadblocks, and smokescreens
to keep us from finding each other again,
but yet we always do. Our love has its own radar.
I can sense your heart beating, like an angelic drum
through the haze, and I know you can always hear the love
in my voice, even through the harsh foul static.
Even when you cannot respond, I know you know
my love is always glowing, like a lighthouse in the night.
Guiding you back to my harbor of eternal affection,
where my lips never tire of sounding the horn of our happiness.
I have stumbled for women before, like a blind man descending stairs.
But I never fell, until I tumbled head first into the bottomless pool
of your beauty. The only waters in which I would gladly drown,
have drowned, only to be rescued and resuscitated by your kisses.
Those who do not speak the language of our love, point their antennas our way,
they intercept our transmissions, but their code books are missing the pages
that explain how such emotion can be decoded. They only catch the grand communique,
always missing the short, but ever so loving messages, that come in daily
over the teletype of passion. Feverishly at this very moment, they wrack their brains
wondering at the deeper context of our words, but their is no hidden meaning,
behind the expression of affection. Love is its own context, and if they cannot translate it
then they are the ones at fault, not us. We have our own frequencies, and wavelengths.
Our Love shall always ring out in the darkness, even if we have to switch channels,
It will be there, to comfort us, and relieve the ache of our longing. I already have enough
in this world. Let them have the rest. All I need is our tiny daily broadcast, all I need is...
Our love.
Jun 5, 2012
Jun 5, 2012 at 7:20 AM UTC
He stood on the front porch
wandering through
Anger in his voice as he speaks
The message on his face could be
decoded
He roams with misery everywhere he goes
His reputation preceeds him
Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 11:16 AM UTC
In the dark
The english roses
Number the stars
//
The infinite sea
(Of) the other normals
Falling into place
//
After we fell
Fifty shades darker
Ten tiny breaths
Four seconds to lose
//
On such a full sea
The echo maker
Decoded
The narrow road to the deep north
//
Farther away
Legends of literature
(Made) memories
(And) collected poems
//
The little prince
Burned
The beast
The year I met you
//
One hundred names
The ten-year nap
This is my life
//
Save me
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 5:38 AM UTC
i tried to write you a letter
once
but was unsure of the address for the heavens where you shine
not "Heaven"
per say
but the stars that gained your carbon as you selflessly gave it away
turns out celestial bodies aren't listed in the yellowpages
i tried sending you smoke signals
twice
but the message was so **** long
and it read more like a song
and you never much liked my lyrics anyway
i moved on to morse code
spent night after night lying on my back with a flashlight
dripping ceasless patterns of dots and dashes into that murky blue puddle of midnight sky
as if maybe you'd reply
with a simple "hush"
and a shyly sigh
it finally dawned on me that you probably couldn't decode it
that your parents probably never made you learn
i cursed them for not teaching you how best to reach me
now
i'm getting older
and colder
and alot less wide-eyed and hopeful
now
i just hope you can hear me speak
the click in the back of my throat that comes with trying not to cry
the sincerity in my 'love you's
and my 'miss you's
and in my uncensored ungaurded love that i ash onto your headstone from the end of my pregnant joints
now
i just hope you can taste the beers i bring to share with you
as i'm rambling along the rails of my de-railing train of thought
and ripping through that sixer i brought
you and your cheap taste in beer
i hide the bottle caps in those little metal vases that your mom keeps filled with florist foam
and different colored silk lillies
they always look so nice
now
i just hope you can read me
better than you ever could before
i hope you've decoded the lines in my palms
and the ***** of my feet
and the cracks in my nicotine teeth
as i'm smiling wildly at the earth that keeps your ashes safe
close to her breaking heart
i hope you can read the quotation atop your grave
i'd have never imagined that the one permanent thing i could ever give you
was the last line
of the last text
that i'd ever send your way
i meant it back then
but now
it means so much more
"sleep sweetly, philly, you will never be forgotten"
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 9:14 PM UTC
So, my dear
I have some things I'd like to tell you.
I hope you choke on every word of this poem.
Where to begin?
When I was dying on the inside,
You took advantage of me
Decoded my feelings,
Bullied me all the way to second base
And beyond
How can you be so naïve
That you can convince yourself
That this was my fault?
I guess you've got everyone else fooled, too.
Nobody knows the truth.
Mom thinks I'm jumpy because I'm energetic.
Dad thinks I don't sleep well at night
Because I sleep too late in the morning.
They don't know it is because I feel *****
Because of you.
But who would believe me?
I already lied for you,
Saying you took advantage of me,
But telling them I still said yes willingly
The first time you asked.
If I told and you knew,
You would deny it avidly, saying
"It's not like I ***** you or anything."
And
"It's not like I forced you."
You're right.
I've done my homework.
It's called indecent assault
And coercion.
But I still can't bring myself to call it that,
Or to tell anyone.
So honey, you're pretty **** lucky
That it took me four months to understand
That what you did to me is wrong.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
Let me tell you, it happened to me once,
---------
She left.
The worst part of it all were the questions
Why didn't she give me a reason
Why didn't she waits for me
A puzzle to be decoded,
I carefully studied past memories,
dutifully analyzing every words I said
What was wrong?
It's unfair how she left without a reason
Every night & day
I spiralled downwards into despair
The pain barely registers
My world were gray
Hyperbolic, but it is
Life was pointless
The future was a fog
I cursed myself, hoped something could happened so I didn't have to be alive
"Should I go find him? I'll wait for him, I trust him, he exclusive to me."
Don’t be fooled
On the first 3 months, I thought that too
But she cuts her hearts into 3 & gave it away
That's how she cope with the pain
She heals faster that way
No point to stay like a dog sitting & waiting for its owner to come home behind the closed door
Complexity of human beings
Don't be a burden of feelings
Yours and another’s
There's still a residual damage
Eventually after 4 months I got her back
My heart was so happy that she comes home
I loved her, but she wasn't entirely mine
I could force a marrige & have a family with her
But I realized if I did that, it will be only pressured me
Everything that's not supposed to yours will slipped out of you grip sooner or later, no matter how hard you hold it.
"What about my theory if some black magic witch played a trick on him? we're in Indonesia, you know sometimes it happens illogicaly"
Feelings become stronger than reasoning. Even though I’m ideologically opposed to your theory, if it happened then it happened with God 's permission. It could be a way to save you from him. All for a good cause.
It's his choice
An active action
Accept that
It's just a matter of breaking a habit you're attached to
I'm not forbid you to go there
If you still wan't to fight for him, does he deserve your efffort?
Choose your battle wisely
Don't go alone & promise me
If it's not what you expect,
If you encounteres a road to disappointment
Do not do anything stupid
I don't want to hear you did any lame attempt to escape from this world
Don’t push the thoughts away
Let them in,
Embrace the sadness and heart break
Accept them and let them be there
This is a learning journey, you'll be fine
Time will erase the pain away.
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 1:08 AM UTC
*Fractal Fountains Of Her Shattered Grace,
Radiating Sanguine Light Scattered Across Hyperspace,
Cinematic Stories Of Her Synthetic Heart,
A Pianistic Fairy Sonicating Into An Illusionistic Art,
Through Liquefied Eternity & Decoded Divinity,
She Glides With Her Electrified Wings Illuminating Into An Elegy,
Feral Essence & Mellifluous Fluorescence,
Resonating Luminescence Of Her Imperious Quintessence,
Fragile Fragments Of Her Experimental Masquerade,
Sterile Rudiments Isolated Forming Into Crystal Palisades,
Metallic Frequencies & Cherished Reflections,
****** Transiencies Starlit In Her Smooched Seductions,
With A Touch Of Insanity & Afflux Of Ecstasy,
Her Carnal Femininity Bleeds Of Promiscuity,
- 05:09AM*
Jun 15, 2017
Jun 15, 2017 at 7:51 PM UTC
With ignorance as a pride,
I dawn on the regular stride,
My mind was weaving its thread,
Surmising ways to spread,
Drowned under the outpouring of lore,
Suddenly a rock hit my core.
There was she, who was to be decoded,
A hapless **** make her slash,
Under the encumbrance of pain,
She did not let a single tear to rain,
Under disgust for her angelic reasons,
She did not stop showing love for the new seasons,
Two paths coalesce under the shrine,
Another cardinal lesson from the divine,
I again started to run,
For the new day under Sun.
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 9:15 PM UTC
What does a poet do
When words fail them?
When the vernacular
They so heavily relied on
To convey every navy blue,
Indigo, violet hue of the midnight sky,
Dies on the tip of their tongue?
When the morphemes
That gave life to the phantoms
And pantomimes in their heart
Come out as Neanderthalic grunts?
What does a poet do?
When the discourse once so comfortable
Becomes stilted, halting, and forced
Because their brain has blanked
On their particular patois?
When not even the thesaurus or lexicon
Or revered Oxford English Dictionary
Can provide the adequate locution
So as to appease the poet's need
To be
Understood,
Acknowledged,
Fathomed,
Decoded,
Interpreted,
Heard.
Because that's all we want.
And that's the impossible
When we have writer's block.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 10:42 AM UTC
wings of birds were stolen by the gods, centuries ago
an earth's day lasts for 86, 400.002 seconds
children are roaming in the mind of these lines
they are counting, playfully and without feelings
days come and go, they float through our lives
i wrote about the stages of dreams and dreamt of an ********
the ruins of old poems are silver, blue and red
remains of a day's thoughts, decoded and clear, similarly
it is not wise to count seconds while you are breathing
it is not wise to count on people while they are leaving
it is strange to use "wise" in order to refer to cleverness
people of color may feel excluded by our languages
in german, "white" is called "weiß" and that sounds like "wise"
explain to me the origins of such a word, i demand it
before the river will have swallowed me; i demand an answer
poems come, poems go, leave a trace, stain – and a change
fools are flodding the streets in order to have a five o'clock tea
proudly, they are talking about their old heroes, bearded conquerors
these guys nevah really wanted to dig strangaz, dey killed 'em.
they killed unknown people, they stabbed my dreams
they murdered ancestors because they were used to murdering
they invented words without speaking but grinning
power is an invisible instrument that consists of hierarchies
power is what we see and oversee, power is the origin of wars
wars are the origin of despair; and that is nothing new
wars, though, may be invisible and silent, just in the mind
what is a war, does a war need bombs, guns and soldiers?
wars occur everywhere, daily, within 86, 400.002 seconds
the length of a day is measured in numbers; they are just inventions
numbers are man-made, animals orient on the sun and the moon
humans celebrate planets and write poems about them
we all will surive as long as we keep writing and tolerate each other
Jun 19, 2020
Jun 19, 2020 at 9:16 AM UTC
You were begging me.
Subliminal messages are falsely decoded
Intermittent sanity is more dreary than all ****** fallacies fused
Intentional preparations lend themselves to planned outcomes
Heart has trapped dreams
Solidified in a toxic broth of misspent days and abusers' ways.
Stale inference leads to melodic defeat
You appear in my dreams.
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 7:10 AM UTC
You had a black cat and a tiger cub
Equal in size, equal in ferocity.
All silk fur and knife teeth- you said they were just playing
But they bit and scratched only me.
Scars incurred were real.
You experimented, scientifically, with my childhood belongings
In the back of our broken down truck.
You didn't know they were mine.
We played chess, us and another
Someone unimportant enough to forget, I suppose
Since I already have.
There was a scandalous edge to it.
Something dark, dangerous. Exciting.
You made me a promise when you took my queen.
I couldn't quite understand what it was.
Later you played basketball, alone in the dark
You car headlights providing the only stars.
I followed you
Found you playing horse, a sad game alone.
There was electricity in the air
Waiting to shock someone.
Waiting to shock us.
You were about to say something magnificent....
If only I could return.
If only I could hear you say it.
If only I could escape the felines for good.
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 8:05 AM UTC