"densities" poems
kindness eats
least of all we defeat our enemies cheaply
steep the leaves in hot water gently
keep enemies close to you and weapons even closer
our friends are like sunbeams
I jump in the water
your sun-burned back is peeling
out loud you remind me
not to bend down too quickly
she hounds me with her questions
lessons on arithmetic
I’m so sick of it
histrionics and sonic lectures
his tricks are onto it
moronic manic accidents
red lions with long necks
deflect authority and wager on credit
the outcomes are certain
all will fade away indefinitely
understand this and measure your life
by breaths and not complexity
densities are hiding in visionary lightning
finding new faculties every moment
we are swift in our limitless
capacity for adaptation
a refulgent emulsion
immersed in water and poetry
under the highest authority
or just higher scrutiny
wrapped in a paranoid blanket
of heightened security
all is being watched right now
as judges redefine your beauty
if you are truly interested
in finding happiness
you must understand
that all magic is abraxas
and satisfaction unceasingly attacks this
as we collapse upon the backs
of ecstatic languages....
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
This time last year you had dreads.
Such a labyrinth of biology tied by sweat, salt, and blood.
Laced up in a fashion of infirmity,
held together by fleeting desires.
Promises keep us floating.
Like the oxygen inlaced in driftwood.
We're densities, varying.
Fragile like a molecule, but as durable as atom.
At the mercy of magnetism.
Vibrating deep from the core.
While waiting modestly for…
nature to carry us home.
Follow the coastline.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC
Breathe Steady 10.29.20
go forth then, unto God and his Glory, abounding and rejoicing in the power and peace of that holy dwelling place.
abide, therefore, forever in the Love and in the Light.
-sayeth the channelings, sayeth the distorted mask,
sayeth that through which sound passes.-
sons and daughters of the Earth who bathe in the waters
drawn of love/light/wisdom in the bathhouse of
the higher densities and inner planes.
Bath waters of golden white light, brilliant in a
radial pouring forth of tangible understanding and freewill.
scarcely can such energy be described in so
cumbersome a language, charming as it endeavors to be.
underwhelming must the emotions evoked be
in comparison with the All Glory of experience of
that which is spoken of.
the death ****** of the fire-bird serves as its own
inoculum and womb; two ends of a terminus
in polarity.
I activate in order to combine,
dwindling dread.
I seal the upswing of trans-dimensional laughter,
with the everyday tone of exodus.
I am guided by the advent of thermals.
-I am a solar riptide, surf me-
and then time slowed way down.
the semi trucks were like great sea mammals with
their whale calls and slow passage by the flanks.
“Who are you?”
“I am the Kalachakra.”
“Did you hear that?” (hushed tones, hands cover the phone.)
I was quite close to the illusion of Death.
The opaque specter, shaking and rumbling the very
fabric of the matrix about me.
wavering not within the sinkhole of indifference lest my terror turn manifest.
I’ve risen from a pillar of salt,
I’ll rise from the embers next.
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 8:37 PM UTC
If a poem or essay can end with a conclusion or its opposite, either one,
Can it be of any use to anyone?
Do the discrepancies and disparities, dualities and densities, reflect only
the dementia
Of the bearer of the pencil?
First entertain, then enlighten if you can. One stretches truth in order
to pretend,
Another leavens with levity one's inevitable end.
Most days it's not possible to bring your life into an expressible state.
Disparate hopes, arduous chores, word choices. And, of course, the
state of the state.
Driven by ideas rather than rhymes, for it is not metres, but a
metre-making argument,
That makes a poem. Convenience store or university English
department
The day's disputes, down to the meaning of the weather, leave you
indisposed
To share your heart of zero and your inner rose.
It is the strong force, the energy of the loved ones combined with
cooperation for good or war.
Dad's years in New Guinea fighting **** he said, were his best by far.
The best that can be said or done is Be where you are. Love the one
you're with
Not necessarily an adult of the opposite *** perhaps just a kid who
hates math
And school, dresses goth, reads rarely but learns a lot from movies
and YouTube,
Has the presence of mind to say I am who I am, deal with it. That's
who I want to be
And have always been. Today clean the house, again. Woke up this
morning to two thoughts:
How sweet to be alive! Life is tough.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 6:38 PM UTC
When and where,
Did I start following your star?
A thousand lightyears ago?
A lighthouse, a beacon,
Through densities of dark-matter,
Shining so brilliantly through eons and epics,
Calling me to explore early explosions,
And beginnings of time,
Golden light reaches me,
Faith and speculation abound,
Dynamic and static this knowledge,
Cold steel anvils crushing hard against burning and fiery tempermental vestments,
Wearing proudly this armor and adoration of you,
Like many who've come before,
I am the King,
At least this time...
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 6:04 AM UTC
When Archimedes jumped out of his bathtub
Shouting ‘Eureka’ naked down the streets,
He had finally found a way to uncover
The deceit on behalf of His Majesty’s goldsmith.
Had he stolen gold replacing it with silver
While carving the divine wreath commissioned by the Tyrant?
The Golden Crown of Syracuse to be placed on the head
Of a goddess to be tested without being disturbed.
It all began with overflow as he dipped his body in water.
It was evident and easy to observe
That some objects floated while others sank,
Occupying more or less, tri-dimensional space.
Fluids rejecting or enveloping the intruder,
Displaced proportionally to the latter’s
Volume, density and mass, led to the revolutionary
Discovery of buoyancy, sparkling new beginnings.
The understanding suggested, that if an object displaced
An amount of water heavier than its weight, it would float.
The opposite being true, an object displacing
An amount of water lighter than its weight, would sink.
Fluid’s volition to reclaim its legitimate space.
Although the system was unable to assess the fraud,
As shape came into account and a kilo of solid gold
Was smaller than the kilo of golden wrath,
Dipped into water discrepancy ignored the math.
Unpredictably, the genius found higher purposes,
Buoyancy to determine whether a steel ship would sink
Or float, make it through the Mediterranean and beyond,
Where the Pillars of Hercules warn sailors to go no further.
Non plus ultra to the realms of the unknown.
The understanding suggesting that if an object displaced
An amount of water heavier than its weight, it would float,
Bigger volumes, lower densities, empty hulls and ballasts,
Succeeded in opening the gates to new oceans and new worlds.
Buoyancy to explain why our bodies float at sea
Apparently rejected by expelling waters claiming back their territory.
Gases being fluids, air acts the same,
With the extraordinary result that a kilo of feathers
Is indeed lighter that a kilo of lead.
By 0,9 grams.
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 6:45 AM UTC
This a message for all the ***** people that think they can trade kisses for sentience and not simply live to tell about it
There's nothing so important that it really can't wait until the morning
There is no need to apologize for your shadows if they're old enough to take responsibility for themselves
The sound of love has been uncovered in the basement of all our churches, mosques, synagogues and temples
Whenever the weather is too good to be true it probably is and what appears to be real is frequently just an illusion
But you also shouldn't let that stop you from doing what you've chosen to
And if we are persistent we will eventually unveil all of this confusion
Seeing through densities and targets with all of our discernment and our reason
We are the reason you envision lovers giving kisses like its actually nobody else's business
We live in a fundamental rebellion and everything's already alright regardless of what it says on television
Life is the liminal space between existence and oblivion
We are fundamental particles of naked persuasion who like to dance dynamically on anomalous targets of diabolical estrangement
We are eternally proud of our ability to come into coherence and cohesion
We speak recitations of fantasies inclusive of these fabricated realities and imitations
Sep 9, 2019
Sep 9, 2019 at 11:14 PM UTC
I’ve always thought I had,
Multiple personalities,
Different identities,
With different densities.
A lover today
A warrior tomorrow
And maybe, a princess the next.
My dreams are big
A little insane
Most times extreme
But mine all the same
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 2:35 AM UTC
I've been told
There is more than enough of me
But will I ever be enough?
Worth is not measured by body mass
In fact,
It seems nearly the opposite.
Worth is measured by how much
You are willing to lose yourself
To conform with society.
You once were a mitten
When you emerged from your mother's womb
Perfectly and intricately woven
With no other quite like you.
You loosely resembled our culture's standards
Based on the actions of your superiors.
As you evolved into a young person
Your peers seem to sneer
So you change your clothes
Change your hair
Maybe then they'll like you
Maybe then you'll be okay
You become a latex glove
Each one the same
Skin tight and molded to fit
Society's overbearing fingers.
You lost yourself
As the words
"Too fat"
"Too ugly"
And
"Worthless"
Penetrated your impressionable mind
And so now
It would seem
That you are perfect for
Our army of robots
One by one
Marching to the media's drum
Same song over and over again
So make the choice
Tell yourself that whether
Your mental and physical densities
Happen to be subpar
Or if they are more than enough
That you are enough
For you.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 5:45 PM UTC
These days, the “sell by” date
dictates the menu for my morning meal.
The next torpedo through the torpor
will be the sound of last nights unfinished dinner
scraped into the centrifuge of my garbage disposal;
separating hardened gruel into densities of curiosity.
The absinthe must have done our cooking
as I’m not familiar with the remains
and I can’t even boil water.
Damning the torpedoes
I ponder my death
and my whirring mind,
as it spins apart the densities of a girl
still passed out in the crevices of my couch,
spun-out shards of cold, pungent, pulp.
I need something for the pain
... instructions on the label read,
“take two pills on an empty soul and
call your publisher in the morning.”
Writing on an empty stomach
only exacerbates this unfulfilled addiction.
My motivation is a hope that one day
I’ll overdose on literary completion
and die quietly in the dawn
beside my “best use by” date.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 10:41 PM UTC
what do you do
once you stop
getting high off
people's presence
and you feel
life's densities
set in
and you catch yourself
molding to routine
and foods don't
taste as sweet
music is no more
than good
you start to lose
the twinkle
in your eye
you had
your whole
life
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC
O little cloud,
where have you gone?
You sink to wisp or worse.
Your grayness turns bone-white,
then a cancerous blue
until you are nothing -
no, you are nothing now.
Your grave is the air
that I breathe.
I sharply decline with you;
you, up in your vault,
waiting for the densities
that will crease you into rain,
I in my mug-clutter,
my liquor-ploughed
library of ills,
try to cope,
come to grips.
Little cloud,
you died a long time ago.
You were reborn,
& died again. You've died
so many wet deaths.
I understand.
This is no world
to live in more
than a day or two.
Apr 22, 2021
Apr 22, 2021 at 12:48 PM UTC
In the deepest recesses of surreal imaginings,
Issireen awaits to appear in lucid dream
--with a headdress made of a jade of
ivory green upon her spirituous head
of purposeful crystalline.
The only gateway to attain the pure excesses
of her beam, and all that she possesses
is the gleaming illumined stream.
To float on by the mysterious ringing spheres
one by one, finding balance in your curious thinking years,
will gently make ripples where there once were none,
and in the hereafter they make still or remove your weighty tears.
The sole visionary can stir a pool of serenity into chaotic
energies --asymmetries of colors, forms and densities;
which reveal aerie little faces which are reflections of dull
or intense entities. But if you try to seize the intangible wakes
caused by the faerie fins that race --*like wings in the wind
of other realities*-they will glide thru your fingers like solacing
rain, casually and without pain.
Motion begets motion here, with a sweet gentle touch, as the
oceans of thought first do retreat before the inevitable rush.
Upon your arrival, Issireen can then emerge materialized full
into ethereal space with her hind wings draped over her uniquely
featured legs --outspread across the landscape.
She will be drawn beyond compare. When her immortal image
begins to take shape, a dreamer could naught but feel, but stare. Her eyes will seem to reveal raging complex colors, within
the borders of the iris is the reel of the engaging onyx shutters --into which you will then be the one drawn, drawn into those inescapable eyes. Drawn into the back of beyond -where tranquility lies unsurpassed in it's attribute.
Hear all the sounds that were never mute, see the banners outstretched
but never torn -instruments playing, stars that shoot, and lights that are forever on.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 2:01 PM UTC
Long time - no sea
and feelings of the ocean-pull
have gained the upper hand,
There is nothing here
in writing,
just pigeon- breasted
righteousness,
increasing stipulations
All that meadowsweet
and moonshine ran,
to desert sand androgony
sank lower
than the daily dip
of fire's head in middle distance
Dizzy social densities
imported inner-city syndromes
proffer only impotence
of temporary reprieve
seems hard to bed
the disenchanted,
sickening for cigarettes
for solitary epithets
-ennui-
So, hide away
demands that breed
the need to know the answers
Been peeking
round the prism bars
empowered sense of self defeat
For sugared-melon hedonism
far too many lines have soured
Long,
Long time - no sea...
Sep 22, 2023
Sep 22, 2023 at 12:55 AM UTC
This channel is too crowded
Too much interference from the infinitude
So many different voices talking at once
Yet they have nothing new to say
She shares my illusions
We converse with the old gods
Then try to write something new
Only to be whipped back into the endless cycle
If infinity has existed for eternity
Then there can be nothing new to do
All possibilities have been achieved
From the terribly mundane to the incomprehensible
Or else we'll just keep spreading
Into the wonderous world of endless possibility
Expanding all the time
Never to return to the past
As I shed old gods for new
Like a reptilian shedding skin
I feel the overwhelming thought of eternity within
Multiplied by the infinity without
She shares my illusions
Recognizes the ascension of new aeons
Envisions the coming harvests to higher densities
As we ultimately merge into the immutable I and I
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 8:39 PM UTC
we knew capitalism had turned ugly
after the first lemonade stand drive by
children denounced their parents
when their eyes were opened
to supply side economics
and demand side criminal enterprise
plunging on in a premeditated stupor
they floated between the tables
a jackpot here a jackhammer there
a cartesian Bingo bonanza elsewhere
going on but the scantiest of gossip
it's a fill in the blank world
where a suitcase full of dead mockingbirds
found on the late bus idling at the terminal
against the smell of ***** nightmares
constituted a reunion of the ever faithful
filling the night with interrogation
we had some exceptional men in our unit
dropped into trouble spots too hot to touch
setting up sensors and detectors and bait
scholars statesmen jurists bishops
and a bent maggoty reeking poet
a sleight of hand magnum opus abuser
surrounded by the burning bodies
of everyone he ever knew
yet all is not a ham bone up the ***
I had just cleaned up my syntax and grammar
with maple syrup and golden dairy butter
so I'll put off proofing this mess for another day
too old to dig up reliable proof anyhow
my brain's already in a specimen jar
it lived a mythical fairy tale life
worth a transfer to the end of the line
to the ancient carnival of phantoms
so I sent in my manicurist security guard
from the tropical hammock islands
their scissors going snip snip snip
rattling the bones of the dead
if this is just a make believe universe
I'd hate to see the real one
but I'm pretty sure space is continuous
and spewing rhyme out of the hearts of stars
but what the hell do I know
it all sounds so fresh and dewy
assuring me that people of greater densities
the beautific the anointed the the sanctified
**** up real stupid just like we do
forgive me but my thoughts have all been stolen
the end point is eluding me as a point
as an area we'll eventually get there
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Jul 14, 2023
Jul 14, 2023 at 6:01 PM UTC