"distortions" poems
it was a dark dance
of an immovable body
as she was taken by the throat,
death, causing stupendous distortions
and entrancements of lunar landscapes
she reeled pirouettes between smothering
and seeing through a miraculous inner eye
deepening her sense of nothingness
as if pickled in a jar, suspended in
formaldehyde
held buoyant
where there is no reason for anything
moveless in a veiled corridor
inhabiting innerness, a raven fog
her ******* wet with the scent of fear and ***
she fell through the earth
into the infernal arms of
Hades
his tremulous kisses
a thousand glittering eyes
she could see through
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 10:35 AM UTC
split the atom an we get fission
mass becomes energy
but can we split a second
enter the essence of the present
what would it mean to us
to be that mindful
ask your self doesn't your mind
only occupy past future
abjectly incapable of living in the present
in the true present there could not be even a ghost of a thought
theres no time to think
can we enter
an incalculable split second
and totally take in that instant
with a forgotten organic technology
is it the big bang in perpetuity
yet quiet as a mute
a raging ever expanding sea in a connected
but distinct dimension
if you entered it
would it not utterly erases all of history
the thinkers and doers along with it
the step beyond the alpha and omega
the great underlining reality
imagine the penetrated moment
an all consuming unimaginable
trans-mutational merge
omnipotent
yet forever imperceptible
to those among us
time locked
an irreducible limitation
like an ant in a closed paper bag
a fixated reflexive machine
wandering aimlessly
with an unknowable mission
and a relentless survival mechanism
with no chance of survival
time as a cosmic metabolism
its medium space
a vast cauldron
an infinite vessel containing endless points of light
everywhere
myriad phenomena
its terrain and the temporal creatures that inhabit it
both exquisite and hideous
an incalculable zoo
histories victors and victims
one and all vanquished
by the curse
consciousness of dis-juncture
a merciless countenance of limitation
yet could time be an illusion
rooted in a narrow awareness
bereft of an eternal
inexhaustible self effulgent now
the rapture
an eternal ******
if we could only penetrate into it
would it swallow us
and blot out the drama of creations theater
is the
now
conscious
illimitable
ecstatic
a perfect meta moment ?
we hear from sacred texts
like the Vedas... Bhagavad Gita.... and Kabbalah
that we may enter beyond the veil
passed time and its ravages
passed mind and its distortions
not to the heaven of religion
in its endless
closed system precepts
anthropomorphic metaphors
theistic gobbledygook
and
sophomoric social engineering
a kind of cliffs notes
god for dummies
we can enter
the eternal abode of the divine
a point between
the splitting of seconds
revealed through the simple act of mindful breathing
pierced by the effort of a focused mind
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 8:09 AM UTC
Where goes the time when it flies?
Simplified by expression, and stained by clarity.
Smudge by lucidity
smeared by simplicity
tainted by intelligibility.
Tempus fugit as in time flies.
Sharply distressing with painful feelings
to the point of mental instability
morning or night
we become possessed with its mystic dealings.
Where goes the time when it runs?
Not a solitary explanation is found.
It happens and it won’t stop
until life terminates as well
without cause.
Derived of rationalisation
lacking understanding
short of justification
bursting with vindication
persistently and with conviction.
Where goes the time when it sails?
From the second that we’re born.
Where were we existing?
We cannot be so sure
Cannot recollect the past
Not for the first five of our years
Memory so blur, so shadowy
Hazy with distortions
obscure and confusing
Unit our mind starts slowly to recollect.
Where goes the time when it escapes?
The chronology of life so mysterious.
Nothing can solve its ambiguity
for time is a complex case
with an infinity of secrets.
What’s the obsession when we have so many setbacks
drawbacks and obstacles
obstructions and conundrums
to take care of before time perishes away
and leaves us stranded in oblivion.
Oh time, you magnificent of all mysteries,
the high and mighty of ambiguities.
Show us mercy and explain
we are not detectives of secrecies
your spell with us reflects on the whodunits.
Oh time of things past and yet to come
give us a clue as to what is to derive!
“Remember”
it softly replies “Make most of your lives”
“Once I fly away no one can have a replay”.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 6:11 AM UTC
According to
the science of the “unknown”,
random samples of emptiness
can only scratch the surface of nothingness..
Depleting the distortions of invisibility
while examining the possibility of
the non-existent state..
Leaving only what appears to be
worthless ashes of eternal entropy!
...
And in another related stories...
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 1:28 PM UTC
Post-azure, cloud splashed sky,
washes with the suns descent,
breaking into melodies of sunset.
Fracturing into a blush,
the richness of the spectrum
makes itself known.
On a tangent of change,
amorphous clouds bleed
amber glow
and bittersweet combinations
of reds and yellows.
Vermillion streaks through,
and a few cloud folk turn titian,
like sumptuous surreal apricots
rotting in the sky,
that seem to augur
encroaching darkness.
Billows on the horizon
leak crimson,
like spilled wine on table cloth,
and pucker out
like blooms of flaming roses.
Fire refracted
coloured cousins of the sun
are dancing all about.
Here is the anthem
of wild transformation.
Here is cause
for quiet celebration.
Here at this fluent juncture.
Here at the closing of day.
The whole of the ocean below,
is the skies tremendous mirror.
It's reflection is variegated,
into variations a thousandfold.
Multitudinous, and ever differentiated,
distortions of above
ride the crests of waves.
Each apex is a new story.
Each new story,
just as soon as it is told,
comes crashing into trough.
Each finale is the ****** of beginning.
The dynamic roar
of the oceans ever-changing topology
is rife with meaning.
Colossal symphonic wonders,
the primordial song,
releasing upon: the uni-
verse continual,
sending the manifest
to move, with the give and strain
of immaculate design.
Here ensconced
between the safety of light
and the mystery of night.
Here at the oceans edge.
Above, shades of catalina-blue, in conversation
with the outer most cosmic-black
dismiss earlier brighter hues.
Tinged by the infinite nature of space,
the jeweled dome darkens.
Overhead, the first stars appear,
sky transparent to beheld blackness.
Luxuriant, pulling horizon, attracts
violet into it's unfolding theatrics.
Bloodied clouds turn purplish, then black,
a darkening rawness allures,
decaying with vivid beauty,
tragedies of a rouged romance
drug down into shadows play,
searingly alive, extraordinarily actual.
And then, the hush of dusk.
Darkness is felled, like silence.
Scintillating stars
strengthen in the nights
surrounding abyss;
giving radiance definition.
Dynamic Beauty
Lives In Transition,
Oppositions
Compliment.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
If I were you
And you were me
I'd tell you all the possibilities
"Take my hand
Let's fly away
We'll go to Neverland"
I'd say
Escape the dark
Escape the screams
Escape your thoughts
Escape your dreams
Get lost in the magic
Of freedom and peace
You may not realize
But your health will decrease
"That's alright"
You say to me
But have you lost your sanity?
If I were you
And you were me
I'd look into your eyes
And see
Laughter, smiles, adventures await
If only you believed in fate
If I were you
And you were me
I'd look into your soul
And see
The flame that used to
Shine so bright
Is slowly burning out
Each night
If I were you
And you were me
I'd look into your mind
And see
Twisted distortions of beauty and love
A self hatred so strong
You could not let go of
You punish yourself
For your failures and words
Regretting your meal
And regretting the purge
There is a song that perfectly describes
The way you feel
And what you hide
If I were you
And you were me
I would ask you...quietly
"How does someone so perfect
Feel so insecure
As to scar her own skin
With cuts and burns
And still want to hurt more?
How does someone so loving
Learn to hate herself so much?"
Drawing a picture on her arms with a blade
As if her mind
Wasn't dark enough
If I were you
And you were me
I'd tell you...
"It will be alright-
Just wait and see"
But I'm not you
And you're not me
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 10:58 PM UTC
you insisted that i write my number down on the blank part of a mix tape...you used to slam down a beer like some kind of super hero...saw myself in your eyes and made sounds only you could hear...you'd press your lips into my forehead so fiercely it hurt; leading us deep into your distortions...
witnessed you spilling your soul into empty barrooms where last call came well before midnight...there wasn't any room in there for me...I made forfeit everything to stand in your arms; and how it lost me all I wanted...
I spread my palms wide across your ribs...curled my fingers tightly toward your spine and believed that you loved me...you turned on me and my wit...so you left me...I wanted to clumsily strew myself on your pillows and press my hand on your thigh, kiss your neck and giggle at your sarcasm...you convinced me that the flood of my insecurities drove you away, that i was the author of our demise...
we collide rarely...your eyes are always tired...you've built the Berlin wall around your heart...you have become a testament to the passage of time because I know I will not remember being the same...
you inappropriately love me but will never trust me...
you stand me in your arms, and it is like coming home after so many years abroad; we never will hold each other this way again...
our Rome became graffiti on my bedroom wall...
this undertow of wordshed always reminding me that I am not lost but I am not home...
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
As we congregate
For centuries
Humanity had
The best thoughts
To create an ecosystem
Where all lives can thrive
But somewhere
We have lost the plot
And veered away
From the values
That all lives matter
Now minuscule section
Takes decisions for us
Manipulating the ecosystem
Creating a façade
For us to believe
Lot many minds think alike
Individual thoughts drown
Mirror is the only escape
Where we can talk to ourselves
Without the distortions
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 9:36 AM UTC
My eyes, python-like, swallow the sky,
greedy for the wrongs in me to go right
at the sight of your gleeful greenery
spilling over creek beds and hills.
The wind, combing out my worries,
blowing away the blockage built
by the fumes and filth collected in city gutters.
I want to be
let wild, made free.
But one wrong turn in your winding maze and I am gone,
a place like this will chew you up and spit you out.
You should leave, something tells me.
No one ever leaves fully intact,
the longer you stay, the more you will fall apart.
“On the contrary” I scoff.
“I am becoming more myself, not less.”
But this is what everyone says
just before they leap in joyful pursuit
to tumble headlong down hidden gullies.
But I am more careful, I assure myself.
I hunt the way crocodiles do,
watching patterns with keen intention,
offering my hands and eyes.
But what should I do if, when the time comes,
You resist?
Disregard me, like an unworthy suitor?
And what if that is what I am?
I see, I take note of
the way the wind blows and the shadows fall,
the way the trees twist clockwise
or counter-clockwise.
The way animals flee when I approach and
the way they keep perfectly still
hoping they are invisible.
And there are times when I see all this, and more.
Like heat distortions above a fire,
something peripheral or liminal,
almost outside the spectrum of what can be perceived
or communicated or defined.
All these trails, the ones seen and unseen
and the ones somewhat seen
lead me to a terrible suspicion:
that the likes of me lacks to tools
to understand the likes of you.
that in harmony with one another
we would both cease to be what we are.
that you will never regard me with love and worse—
you will never regard me at all.
Then I, in frustration, stop going with you.
Start to go against you.
And keep going, finally on my own.
Still myself, but less.
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 7:23 PM UTC
all day on the brink
saline hinging on lashes
reading minds far away
fortune-telling actions
and overgeneralizing
filtering the nonsense
to make room for the
nonsensical
minimizing positivity
maximizing black and
white negatives
focusing on despair
internal anguish;
vicious cycle of
irrationality
automatically
a day in the life
inside of me
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
awaken
grasp deep within
tap
reservoirs deep as wells
rebalance
masculine, feminine
release
old ways
time
of radical change
prepare
to break apart
allow
deep feelings
let
conflicts go
wash
distortions away
feel
the softening
flourish
in heart, mind
empower
your life
invent
new plans
transform
into higher awareness
leap
from the cliff
dream
in endless waves
scatter
your seeds
give
birth to new ways
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 9:29 AM UTC
Impregnated with uncertainty
Long overdue
Waiting on opportunity
My patience is subdued
Attempted abortions
With 4th trimester distortions
Stillbirth ensues
Screams inside the sirens
Struck with hospitalization
Bedridden doormen
Realization…
The time arrives
With labor pains
And liberation pangs
I cut the umbilical chains
Only a piece of me remains
I feel the guarantee
The time is now
I feel parturiency…
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 4:22 PM UTC
Desperate these words,
Chasing fleeting shadow,
Echoes flocking like birds
Amid myriad distortions,
The unquiet mind's sorrow.
In birth chosen for sweetness,
A bid for attentions of one
Soon fade mere whispers,
Weak and defeated tomorrow,
Exhaled anguish unheard.
Written lines would have best
Been spoken in ears years ago
'Ere time flowed its course,
When ever softer verse
Might shimmer
Then a symphony,
Maybe able
To drown life's other sounds
Like Mozart, loud as one can turn up.
Would there be any remedy
Which relieves burdens of memory...
The music of dulcet strings
Does dull stings, still only temporary;
And since abandoned,
Thoughts of more ultimate things.
So still, some poet's quill
Crafts dreams into sparrows,
Sets fluttering free
Their unnatural wings
To sing a song of regret,
Share madness with the winds.
Jan 14, 2010
Jan 14, 2010 at 3:22 PM UTC
I know you cannot have it all in life
I know there will always be a void unfulfilled
But I want to follow the voice inside
I am constantly feeling this way
Constantly feeling the void
I have an insatiable desire to reach perfection
Perfection in my reflection
Has it make my flaws magnified?
Forcing me only to focus on my distortions
And not seeing my abilities
I want to listen to my heart
For it is my truest self
It is telling me something my mind cannot hear
I want to see my name on the bookshelf
Engraved with ice and fire for it will never disappear
I want to write, draw, color
Use my hand as my tool
Speak the words of my mind and my soul
Touch and bring the spirits to my whirlpool
I want something bigger than me
Although I am not small
My mind is wider than me
It is full with words and ideas coming and going at a rapid pace
Craving more and more of wisdom knowledge and inspiration
You know what my mind is telling me right now
Peace
From within and around
Lift
My spirit from aboveground
Rest
My body through meditation and prayers
These days I feel like I am living outside my body
Spying myself from afar fearing to be seen
Hiding behind the trees into the wildest parody
Watching myself while feeling a little spleen
I want everything to stop just so I can process
The world is running at a rhythm i cannot follow
I want to create a big-bang easy to digest
I want my work to resonate in the darkest shadow
And then the earth can spin again at her own pace
I'm allowing myself to enter into this new discovery
Bringing my heart and mind to recovery
Let them go to the places I dared not stay
Speak the words I ignored to say
Tell the truth of my quest
Give it to the world as my bequest
And then put myself at rest
"And when I'm done no matter where I've been
I'll yearn to do it all again" - from The Eternal Lament by 2Pac
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 2:00 PM UTC
Today I walked to the park and back
And saw suburbia rearranged into dizzying distortions
All the trees had a purplish tint
And on the grass, I saw multicoloured light reflecting off the dew
When I got home
I attacked all the imagery with a dagger to reshape reality
And a blank mirror to recreate the world in my head.
The world that was quiet is humming again
I hear choirs of crickets and choral basslines
Cacophonous and ecstatic in the constant confusion
The dull concrete is shot open with marquee moonlight
Indulgence pouring out, free-flowing like communion
And painted onto canvases like rain on a car window
Daydreams and delusions are ice cream melting, sticky and sap-like on your chin
Clouds pixelate with diamond edges
Voices ring out in a flurry
And there isn't a soul in sight.
So I breathe in the air
And let all the sounds and smells and limitations of reality colour my imagination once again
Daydreamed delusions and nightmarish reality are one
Filaments in the vibrant violence
Until the summer fades away again.
Aug 18, 2023
Aug 18, 2023 at 7:25 AM UTC
MEMO
FROM: Mr Phil Indifrence, Strategy Chess Insurgency Corps.
Space Headquarters, Castleview Avenue, Dunstable XY10
TO: Ms Petal Dontrun, Crimson Chess Federation.
De la Wigan Headquarters, Wigan, United Kingdom, SM00
Dear Ms Dontrun,
Please accept my greetings. I write to clarify my stance on our
outstanding matters and hopefully to deter further speculation,
gossips, rumours, distortions, misinformation and sensationalism by the media.
As you are aware I contacted you on the day as arranged only to
be confronted with a response that was astoundingly unethical, un-
professional, rude, inconsiderate and totally uncalled-for. It was
so below expected standard that it raised doubt about your suit-
ability to be seen as a matured adult much less an intelligent being.
Still in the reverberations of this seismic occurrence I called again in
the hope it was a momentary loss of composure and yet again I was
subjected to a deluxe version of the first onslaught. To say I was
flabbergasted is putting things mildly, most especially as it was
totally unwarranted and underserved. It was obvious you lacked
any sense of decorum and had become an affront to common human decency and an embarrassment to your status.
In all fairness you did call some weeks later, but it had become
apparent that the ethos, protocol and cordiality that my Organi-
sation works within may not be relevant to your Organisation,
hence my unavailability to your contact.
I write to primarily reiterate that my position on this matter and
the present status quo is not based on some immature Ego play,
stubbornness, power-play or pride, rather it's in all truthfulness it's a belief in upholding standards in ethical considerations. I do not believe that bad manners, ill-considered behaviour, ill-judgement and a lack of sensitivity and good grace are matured and progressive trends to interact cooperatively within.
In conclusion, this is my stance on this matter and I hope it helps
your understanding. I believe a formal Apology from you and your
Organisation is appropriate in this regard and will instigate a
return to cordiality between our Organisation.
If you however feel this is unnecessary I will respect your decision
and the situation will remain unresolved.
I thank you for your attention.
Regards,
Phil Indifrence. C.E.O.
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 5:18 PM UTC
I favour the deep, impenetrable truth of the jungle
Over the smooth ride over sleek black rubber;
The ***** disturbing, demented disorder;
The distortions of the lights we bathe on,
Over outward alignments and the staleness of systems.
I favour the cheap, rugged, bittersweet taste
Of a late night's substandard drink,
In the midst of true lights and shadows
And the uncertainty they cast upon us,
Over the orderly and satisfactory--
The dead pleasures and securities that
Exist nowhere but in feeble projections.
I favour the basic, primeval, animal grunt--
The dirt, the dizziness of true treading
Across the muddy shallows--,
Over the clattering of an overflowed,
Certain mind.
I favour doubt, earnest doubt,
Unpalatable doubt, inescapable doubt--
A smile in a pitch-black room,
A journey on a lukewarm air balloon,
A half-finished sentence in a half-serious gloom--,
Over hasty conclusions and tainted allusions.
I favour the endearing messiness of reality;
The chaos of light and dreams;
The mystery, so out of reach,
Of you and me and the space in-between;
The stained, torn, shattered, burnt,
Twisted texture we find ourselves upon,
Over the smooth, marble-white,
Sterile surface where false certainties
Slide, grinning, before they find themselves
On an impending collision with the infectious hesitation of the ground.
I favour the acknowledging look
Straight into the eye;
A ladder with one step;
A race with no competitors;
A contentment without resentment;
A bread on your table that's good enough,
That doesn't tease you and promise you more,
And more,
And more,
So that you forget what you should really care for,
What lies deep under your skin,
What stirs up the dormant contents of your guts--
You climb to the hilltop
Which finally allows you to have
A peek at the next one.
I favour uncertainty and risk,
And walking too close to the edge;
I favour barely enough,
And cutting it too close;
I favour throwing all excess over the board,
And lowering standards;
I favour the taste of imminent failure
And the adrenaline of a heart-wakening sprint;
I favour meagre means
And big dreams, free of currencies;
For they all remind me what the world
Really looks like,
Who I really am,
And what the winter-night winds
Really feel like.
I favour the ways of nature, often erratic,
***** ugly and convoluted,
Often dumbfounding,
Unintentionally intelligent and mysterious,
Over the ways of fear-ridden constructions,
For there is no such thing
As a straight line.
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 2:31 PM UTC
There is so much that I wish I could understand…
and so much more I wish I could explain.
The love I feel inside comes out distorted;
I feel trapped inside a prison—a prison called “what you see of me”.
Some are afraid of who they really are…
But I am afraid no one knows who I really am;
No one sees what is deep inside of me.
I am forever stuck inside perceptions—a prison called “what you see of me”.
I keep trying to improve; I keep trying to reconcile.
The distortions have become my prison; I am trapped inside hell.
If it is hell to you and it is hell for me… then what the hell am I doing?
believing I can change—a prison called “what you see of me”.
With every fail, the pain deepens…
Successes are too little; successes are too late.
How to receive love; How to give love…
when I must question everything that everybody sees?
How I say it (not what I believe) is the reason I reside in—a prison called “what you see of me”.
A description of me sounds like a description of my worst enemy.
A burden to society; A thorn to those who try to love me;
A hindrance to those who want to know me.
It isn’t the real me… it is the weathered walls of—a prison called “what you see of me”.
But isn’t perception another form of reality?
What does it matter what I am… if that is all anyone can see?
I suppose I know the answers; I just don’t know the why…
Why I continue to believe that I can change—a prison called “what you see of me”.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
Volcanic eruption
corruption
unemployment
recession, depression
Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan
Earth quakes
rumbles
Wall Street crumbles
Haitian children wail
tidal waves prevail
Global warming
fiction or warning?
Taxes, health care
how to handle
the next scandal
Hawaiian birth
takes precedence
over incidents. Coincidence?
Arizona immigration
discrimination
Oil spill
of gigantic proportions
contortions
in the Gulf
causing strife, ending life
Bomb in Times Square
where? not here!
just sit and sip your beer
watch the world go by
with a wink and a sigh!
Sometimes we are powerless
nothing we can do
our head in the sand,
don't understand
not care, or dare
to question?
What is our place
in this space
our destiny and fate
to help our world continue on
so our children can survive?
The world is spinning out of control
Iraq, Iran, Afganistan
Quakes, Rumbles, Crumbles
Global Conservation, Preservation
Distortions, Contortions
Bombs and Beer
Dare to Care
Frenzied
© 2010 Marlene Dunham
May 22, 2010
May 22, 2010 at 8:46 PM UTC
Not all evil is dark, or wood
For darkness is
Deceptive,
Illusions,
Distortions
As of truth, all that glitters
is not good, evil prays
On the sins of man
Greed is the downfall of us all
For one would
Maim,
****
******
To hold this blood diamond
It bathed in blood of the past
Soaked up the evil turned
Pure transparency
What one is, now not
Tainted,
Inanimate,
Lust
For a thing of beauty that is soaked
In purest blood, how many died
How many souls lost for this devil
In rarity,
Consumed by its beauty
Vain jewel of purity that is bathed in blood.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC