"dynamically" poems
You are my fire
My titanic ocean
Your Love burns
Right through my
Very soul
Your love can purify me
Make me whole.
The wind of nature
Is like your Love
It's like no other
I've been thinking of
It Encircles me
Dynamically
Breathing upon my heart
Today
That I may inherit it's
Power
And I hear you say
"Come, Fill this vacuum
that your Love
Enslaves me
Cease this emptiness
That fills my soul
Only your love
Can save me
Give me life
Make me whole".
Please speak to
My heart today
Encourage my Love
Please don't delay.
Clear the vagueness
Which impedes me
Come enlighten my
Mind, Body and Soul
And the truth will only
Lead us
To the love that makes
Us whole.....
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
I’ve been watching the seasons change
from this lonely little bus stop shelter.
Waiting in limbo,
as the leaves turn from an animated green,
to the frost bitten crunch
of once was.
The landscapes danced dynamically before.
Trees swayed blissfully
over the vibrantly brushstroked canvas;
yet now they stand still.
Motionless.
Paralysed, like a Polaroid picture.
But in this time of waiting;
my momentary detention of movement;
a suspension of my heart’s desires.
I’ve observed as the scenery
turns to the deceased.
The dead.
The diminished.
And returns back
to the living
as it always does
and always will
eventually.
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 3:56 AM UTC
With the piquant poignancy of lurid allusion
I create a dynamically progressive matrix of collusion
Whose apex crux axis is beyond finite solution
And the endergonicaly adhesive pragmatics imbue a cohesively coercive illusion
For the inveterate hypotaxis of livid elusions
I portray a protensive conjunction of latent confusions
Whose effervescent effluence is vagile laconic effusions
And the sardonic impending preponderance conveys sabbat consortium delusions
From the endemic puissance of eclectic synectics
I derive a dialectically semantic sorcery of syntactics
Whose apothegm aphorisms are levity terse synaptics
And the lucidly collusive illuminism educes the aesthetics of geomancy's fatidic
Through the viable salience of kithe’s intrinsics
I exude a portentous pervasion acuity of linguistics
Whose apomixis anabolics are irrefragably felicitous orotund acoustics
And the aural auspice austerities infer axioms of manumission’s eidetics
By the hypercritical mitigations of anachronistic sociology
I purvey rampart ransack oblations of epistemology
Whose azure opulence articulations are futurity ostensive ontology
And the evolutional ontogeny metamorphisms incur a homogeny epiphany deontology
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
Pie can be made with fruit,
Pie can be made with chocolate,
Pie can make you smile,
Pie can make you *****
Pie can be elaborate,
Pie can be quite simple,
Pie could be literal,
Pie could be a symbol…
The Pie of Life is hot,
Or maybe it is cold,
You could heat it up,
Or maybe it's too old,
The Pie of Life has flavors,
It's dynamically unique,
But what's your pie like?
It's changing as we speak.
Every day it changes,
Sometimes we eat,
But not until we die
Is our Life Pie complete.
Our choices are the flavors,
Our thoughts roll the dough,
Our actions bake our pie,
So what have I to show?
Our pies explain us,
My pie is my success,
Is my pie good enough?
Do I have enough, or less?
Thankfully you've offered me
Ingredients to help me try.
Our friendship is, I'm sure,
A nice addition to my Pie.
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC
Lines of light
form our forms,
as shapes glance shyly
at spot-dotted stars.
They shape you, you know?
Framing your eyes
with lashes so dark,
petals,
against a backdrop of lime
clear, wide, citrus,
for me, the slicing sting
in open wound screams.
But for you?
My arms wide
to gaily catch green gaze
whole.
My gaze,
a lens sans focus,
light bends and blurs
to bokeh.
It’s lost.
It returns.
The sudden impact
of complete regression,
dynamically hastened exhales
in symphonies of near silence.
Faith in finding
new seedlings buried
below cold spring surface,
or, if-luck-might-root-hold,
flowering perennials
of Love without Lust
claw up through dirt.
Worn out and in,
like rugged denim blue,
spanning one lifetime,
two,
yours and mine.
Endless desire,
for wear,
for comfort without fear,
each year, new tears,
again.
Again, again,
sun me with your stare.
Aug 10, 2012
Aug 10, 2012 at 4:59 AM UTC
I used to walk to the chapel often
at least every weekend, sometimes more.
I'd gather up my friends and we'd head out.
Sometimes there were 6 of us, sometimes only 2.
Walking to the chapel was an experience of freedom from our every day lives --
from our schoolwork especially.
Walking to the chapel was an experience of living life to its fullness
drinking in the smell of the water, of the trees, of the season.
Drinking in each other, and the friendship we shared.
Sometimes we walked to the chapel, sometimes we ran;
Always the joy pouring out of us, the fresh energy of youth, and the
raw emotion of our shared relationships.
We walked to the chapel, but then we also floated there:
carried by our love of the land, the water, our curiosity, and each other.
Walking to the chapel was a sacred experience.
Tonight we walked to the chapel again;
This time a group of 5 --
two parents, three children -- together.
We smelled the water and the trees,
we felt the warm breeze.
We walked together -- one unit -- and yet each of us free.
The children running ahead, the baby carried.
The adults joined now in care not only of themselves,
but of the little ones they helped create.
The beauty of the place heightened by the beauty of being a family.
The emotions of days past, the joy, the freedom, the experience of life, they rise up.
We are a family.
We exist to help each other.
We find joy, delight in one another.
We are free to love life in all its glory;
to be uniquely ourselves,
and yet bound together in love.
Walking to the chapel as a family is dynamically life-giving,
and an example of holiness.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 1:27 AM UTC
The streetlights are flashing
rhythmically in the winter evening
when fluffy snow pours
through the streets of our city.
The green grass disappears
as the landscape dynamically turns white.
For adults, this is another cold evening
and for the children is a time for rejoicing.
The fireplace warms our bodies
like the sun in the summer,
while the love of family and friends
brings delight to us all.
Apr 17, 2021
Apr 17, 2021 at 2:11 PM UTC
Blessings fall
Snowflakes reflect your rise
as they mirror resilience dynamically
under the January moonlight
*
Now is your time
Welcome to your life
Open up
Allow love &
Feel alive. Feel alive. Feel alive.
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 5:41 PM UTC
With the piquant poignancy of lurid allusion
I create a dynamically progressive matrix of collusion
Whose apex crux axis is beyond finite solution
And the endergonicaly adhesive pragmatics imbue a cohesively coercive illusion
For the inveterate hypotaxis of livid elusions
I portray a protensive conjunction of latent confusions
Whose effervescent effluence is vagile laconic effusions
And the sardonic impending preponderance conveys sabbat consortium delusions
From the endemic puissance of eclectic synectics
I derive a dialectically semantic sorcery of syntactics
Whose apothegm aphorisms are levity terse synaptics
And the lucidly collusive illuminism educes the aesthetics of geomancy's fatidic
Through the viable salience of kithe’s intrinsics
I exude a portentous pervasion acuity of linguistics
Whose apomixis anabolics are irrefragably felicitous orotund acoustics
And the aural auspice austerities infer axioms of manumission’s eidetics
By the hypercritical mitigations of anachronistic sociology
I purvey rampart ransack oblations of epistemology
Whose azure opulence articulations are futurity ostensive ontology
And the evolutional ontogeny metamorphisms incur a homogeny epiphany deontology
Aug 31, 2019
Aug 31, 2019 at 11:37 PM UTC
I spit catastrophes rapidly
Leave you a fatality
Innocent by reason of insanity
Her voice will always stick with me
Now my sanity deteriorates like Chernobyl
It's almost like I'm immune to the sadness of funerals
Our generation seems to have no need for morals
My generation known for disrespecting girls
Am I explicitly gifted or inconsistently wicked
Feels like my souls been torn out and twisted
It's got me adapting dynamically, changing my mentality
Truly what is the real reality
Living life with a new found belligerence
Like a high off of ten different barbiturates
This cypher shall be thy deliverance
From a generation polluted with ignorance
I'm a sadistic mystic
Artistic, and pessimistic
True art is about pushing limits
You want the full view, only giving you snippets
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 9:55 PM 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
Life.
Life is, at its best and its worst, pure, unadulterated madness. The moments when we laugh and cry or we cry and laugh. The moments when we scream at the top of our lungs. The moments when we smile sadly. The moments when we collapse on the floor because it's all too much.
Love.
Love changes so much. From the first embrace of a warm body, kicking and screaming, to the last. From being loved to loving, yourself, and then loving yourself. And all of them are as different as the colors in the rainbow- gradient shades of warming light. Many things of one kind- or maybe many kinds of one thing.
But here we are. Where else would we be- no, Where else could we be? And here it all is. Just where we left it. Like coming home from vacation to find not a crumb out of place.
We are dynamically static, waves in an ocean, snowflakes in a blizzard, grains of sand in the wind-whipped dunes.
Together we hum a vibrant chord in the key of being, the vibrating thrum of bees busy at work to keep the scaffolding of what is from collapsing.
And here we all are. Here we are and everything is different but nothing has changed.
Where else could we be?
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
I want you secret
I want you night-time
I want you in-between
I want you mine
I want you eyes wide
I want you six o'clock (and seven o'clock and eight o'clock)
I want you with the radio low
I want you in dusty sunlight
I want you with cracks on the ceiling
I want you Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Fridays.
I want you leap frogged and running with feeling
I want you long and drawn out, and short and frenzied
I want you asleep and in transit
I want you awake and drunk and dancing
I want you whiskey and moët and brandy
I want you electronically
Pathologically
Dynamically
Chronically
Ironically
I want you silent
I want you wild eyed and raving
I want you hating and spitting
I want you lost and needing
I want you without regret
I want you argued and making up
I want you ***** dishes and rain against the windows
I want you July blue sky, November harvest moon
I want you 'I do'
I want you first kiss and last
I want you babies and children and promises
I want you future I want you past
I want you secret
I want you night-time
I want you in-between
I want you mine
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 4:20 PM UTC
When sands grind me bare
and my world's gears stop turning,
I look to the wind
and wait for the sky.
for the sun to rage off of
my range of vision
until stars come out,
instead of looking at feet
I fix to the sky.
my star stares me straight
directly in my third eye
'sit still my son please
I've sat here for years
let me tell you a story
of Earth at its start.
the planet's alive,
a lot like you can't you see,
from fire and storms
mass extinction, death
out of, the earth came to be.
Earth was weak until
she spun her core so
tightly and quickly the wind
came alive. With that
planet earth found a
cure for her fire. She found
beauty in balance,
constructed karma,
founded shifting sands of time,
dynamically brought
concepts of good and
evil to war with each other.
Positioned herself
in her suitable
orbit. Just follow the earth,
sit down, tame the fire.
Spin your existence
like her, and maybe you'll see
there's no need for breath
when wind fills your lungs.
Find your own balance within,
fight your own battle
learn desire serves
to feed flames, continue pain
life makes suffering.
Don't lose this battle
or your forces might make you
stay the same person.
If after you find
yourself trapped up on the moon,
don't fear traveler.
Fleeing far from home
you have started your journey!
One day you may find
Your own heaven place,
a perfect spot just to watch
the cosmos below.
And a star like me,
one day you're destined to be.
transcend all your pain
until we same speak.'
That's why I look to the stars,
through unsurety
I will keep swimming.
Knowing one day full well, I
belong in the sky.
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 10:03 AM UTC
he used to sing in a rock band
back in seventy three
he could put a show on
so dynamically
the concert goers screamed
and screamed
the stage would be alive
with rock
the drummer
would smack the skins
and the fellow
on the bass guitar
would rile up the fret
and the rock star
put the meat
on the lyric
at that hot mic stand
he was rock star
back in seventy three
he could put a show on
so dynamically
get down
get down
we'll rock the world
we'll rock the world
these were the words
he sang as he strutted the stage
in his open shirt and tight leather pants
get down
get down
we'll rock the world
we'll rock the world
he could put a show on
so dynamically
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 1:58 AM UTC
Stray dogs
Roam in the night
Looking for food
Looking for water
Maybe they too roam across my mind.
From San Juan
The saint feast parade spreads
Across the isle of enchantment.
(As their license plates claim)
Remember your sunscreen
As you are in the belt of Cancer
Even as the weather shifts
Dynamically
Hour to hour
Minute to minute
Day to day.
I came here to challenge the waves
But they challenged me instead
And I walked away
Battered
And ******
But balanced.
I had time to consider the plantain
And that it seems to be used in
Everything.
I roamed the streets of San Juan
In between their three towering
Sea kings
Guarding the city
For centuries.
Oh San Juan!
Jewel of the Americas
Respectfully following
the code of the indies
For 500 years you have stood
Defeated once
But unconquered.
(I think theres a lesson in that)
I kissed the freshwater
In the forest of the Anvil
And tread precariously amongst
the stones
Amidst graffitied groves of bamboo
And the calls of coqui.
So Puerto Rico,
With your history,
Your culture,
Your food,
Your beauty,
My only question is
Why arent you a state?
But then I remember
That the president is racist
And full of hate.
But I want you one day
To fully join us
In the flawed
But proud
U S of A
Stray dogs
Roam in the night
And maybe
Stray dogs will follow me home.
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 2:03 AM UTC
I'm a cat hopping in and out of boxes
trying to see where I fit.
Oh my fascination
with trying different options,
It's absurd,
the world cackles —
me diving face first
into tiny openings.
Maybe I'm a confused chameleon
instead.
Dynamically scaling,
hues darkening
in the lighting.
Oh how bright it is
under their fluorescent lamp.
Hurry, take an image
while I'm inside,
while I'm static.
You may never see
that shade of me again.
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 4:10 PM UTC
See, it’s just me and you
Here in this reality
I am her
And you are you
No one else intrudes
In this space
You said she’s fissile
What does that mean?
Like energy,
Exploding dynamically
Or slate or crystals,
Not letting you through.
You wanted to know
Where my mind would
Go,
Offered advice
Pretended you wanted
Mine too,
Only to find
That I’m her,
Fissile,
Split in two
But so are you,
I am her
And you are
You,
I don’t see anyone
Else,
Just you,
Is that what you
Were aiming for?
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 3:13 AM UTC
Verse 1
Of heights we have to soar, with the one that I adore
Together dynamically, a true magnetic force
The faith of which to grow, for goodness will follow
Tested through the trials, faith of purest gold
Chorus
Love will find a way, love will find a way
Oh oh oh, find a way
Through every obstacle, we’ll withstand the storms
With all perseverance, we will face it all
Verse 2
The forest may be dense, of days with all suspense
We shall overcome, it has no permanence
Each day is not the same, of lessons there to gain
We’ll endure the course, we’re dancing in the rain
Chorus
Bridge
Let magnificence arise
For there is a greater prize
As we both unveil our eyes
There are blessings in disguise
Chorus
Written by Geraldine Taylor ©️
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 11:17 AM UTC
Traverse pyroclastic star fire into super nova force speeds
Packed full of adrenaline where the heart of the universe breaths
Barely enough time for a simplistic five senses to absorb
Vivid ether and experience only a consciousness can store
For the tactile sensations are dynamically built within us
Confusing human shells slow to evolve for floods of stimulus
Riding a constant high of something always quite unseen
Never very sure debating between reality and a dream
So we drift as if we were all perfectly awake
In most grim hours where a soul is often give or take
Every person in our life is there for a reason
Whether for a day, a few months, or several seasons
Failing to find proper weight to fit the measure
That every single moment shared is a galaxy of treasure
Jul 19, 2017
Jul 19, 2017 at 3:36 AM UTC
Air conditioner.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Air conditioner
I made it possibly to live in relative comfort
Refreshing air by clever refrigeration cycles
Clever cycling of Freon gasses as compressed
Oh Mr Carrier you made it all so possible
Natural climates in the home and malls
Dynamically altered to a comfortable temp.
I am a poet n dispense without condition
To the world I give my poetry for free on.
In some places the Freon gas is taboo
Only my free poetry creates conditions
Never has so much poetry been released
Earth bound and channeled by Gods spirit
Relax now and read in the comfort of home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
November 7th 2018.
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 5:10 PM UTC
Modern capitalist society, in order to culturally and structurally reproduce itself, to mantain its formative status quo, must forever be expanding, growing and innovating, increasing production and consumption as well as options and opportunities for connection -in short it must always be dynamically accelerating. This systematic tendency toward escalation changes how people are situated in the world, the ways in which human beings relate to the world. Dynamization in this sense means a fundamental transformation of our relationship to time and space, to other people, to the objects around us, and ultimately to ourselves, to our body and our mental dispositions.
This is the point at which acceleration becomes a problem. An aimless, endless compulsion toward escalation ultimately leads to problematic, even dysfunctional or pathological relationships to the world on the part of both subjects and society as a whole. This dysfunction can be observed in the three great crises of the present day: the enviromental crisis, the crisis of democracy, and the psychological crisis (as manifested, for example in ever-growing rates of burnout).
Hartmut Rosa, from Resonance A sociology of our relationship to the world
Nov 17, 2024
Nov 17, 2024 at 5:31 PM UTC
CATCH OF ONE DRIP
My Sovereignty was lost , I am not what I was , I just remember that I was a rust .
My heart was felling the pain in that charismatic world , my soul is hiding somewhere
............still that smell of the power is catching me . Again and again it is whispering that I am addicted to nature trance .
My body was scattered and I too! . Still its there covered with dust , sand and feelings . Its there but getting lost to that core in days and days. I am eager to catch each drip of my self .
That way of stardust throws a drip to my heart . Its the cage to catch my heart but my heart catches that drip and gets caught in it but still my heart is beating violently ,it is beating vigorously , it is beating dynamically and it is beating ........it is beating
It is nothing but an addiction of nature trance
Sanya
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 1:54 PM UTC
You were the universe.
A vast region unknown to me.
A bright place of loneliness.
A hope filled area of oblivion who made me feel like I was the only star in its galaxy.
I saw all the stars that surrounded you. Dead light kisses, hot ball of gazes, plasma filled temptation. I closed my eyes and wished I was a planet.
You know, The Fermi Paradox says that a civilization cannot overcome its current state because of The Great Filter.
So when you gave me those heartaches and you kissed me with broken promises, baby, I knew from then that you were The Great Filter and I was the civilization who cannot move on.
In your galaxy-like heart, you were the sun.
She was Mercury and I was Neptune.
She was hot. I was colder than snow.
She was small and everything you've ever wanted. I was big and distant. Disconnected and alone.
So I understood when you gave her the heat I needed in my coldest days.
The universe is filled with dynamically evolving things that are unfathomable to me.
A roaming blackhole that ***** feelings deep into the void
Hungry for validation, for affection, for attention. You consumed me.
Placed into nothingness, filled with grieve and loss, I deteriorated.
Lights flickering, slowly burning out, I smiled. I looked at the planets and stars inside the galaxy you've created.
"My brightness was the factor of how much effort I put in but I will never be enough to light your expanding universe."
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 11:26 AM UTC
What is this man,
Can you tell me?
Man is a spirit.
The spirit is man.
Man, the spirit.
The Spirit man.
Both are blended into
one spiritual force.
The spirit man is from above
and is heavenly,
while the man is physical
and is earthly.
This man and that man
lives in a physical body,
possessing the power of both
the upper world and the lower world.
Two different kingdoms infused into one.
Converged in his being are
complex and multiple nature and
thought patterns interwoven within
his mind in resonance to the
influence of the spirit man.
Both are infused
and encapsulated together
into one whole essence.
The spirit man becomes more in tuned
to the octaves and radiations
within the balanced rhythmic
interchange of the cosmic forces
and intuitively linked to both internal
and external wavelength.
The consciousness of the mind of man
recognizes this fact,
and dynamically helps you within
to live in harmonium when you find
the rhythm that balances and centres you. ©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC