"dynamics" poems
Her shadow
Washed in sin, covered in blood
Oh, what a sad little dove
Festering secrets, slathered in shame
Purity poisoned, life to blame
Born unwanted, a mother denies
Behind the shadow of our eyes
His shadow
In dynamics
Of dysfunctional dismay
Lost in secret family shame
These emotional contacts delay
That we carry 'til the end of our days
Cast in stone, in foundation of lies
All these shadows behind our eyes
Her pain
Painful memories of long ago
Though, I know, I must let go
Triggers upon the aching scars
That burns within an injured heart
Full of fear, in the wake of lies
All behind the shadow of our eyes
His pain
An unending twitch
The fast fading smile
The ever bleeding heart
Of a broken lost child
Carrying stones up endless hills
All these issue we're forced to feel
And stuff them down, way down inside
Behind the shadow of our eyes
Her darkness
Hidden is a blacken variant
Attached with unbreakable sealant
Of life's destiny, from the gods
Concealed amid, evolved facades
A mind, compartmentalized
Behind the shadow of our eyes
His darkness
Desensitized to life, empathy left poor
Bottomless abyss where my spirit now soars
Love is a dream in my abandoned role
The pieces won't fit my wandering soul....
The window to a soul hides
Behind the Shadow of our Eyes
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 11:44 PM UTC
I appreciate simplicity.
The mediocrity
Of being absorbed in my thoughts.
The life of a solivagant.
It's who I am.
It's all I know.
Do not deem me ill because
You have never sat down and
Explored the dynamics and complexities
Of your being because we are clearly not On the same mental or spiritual calibre.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
Street performers.
Busking. Panhandling. Begging.
An artist’s most submissive position.
Music’s all-powerful mystery beholden to pocket change.
Until a blind man, guitar in hand,
On the Blue Line platform,
Plucks from an unsuspecting heart
An unmistakable theme-
“What can you say about a 25-year-old girl who died?”
An unmistakable love story...
One bill and some coins in his collection basket,
A mysterious, gentle reminder-
Dynamics come wholly undone.
I drop in my all-powerful dollar,
All aboard the train.
Down here and now will I
Write for the first time in nearly three years.
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 12:00 PM UTC
Jade helm
"Mastering the human domain"
It's all about control
Controlling human beings
And enslaving us
In the one world/new world global government
Information collection
Pre-crime technology (minority report)
System has no empathy or remorse
Self organizing, vision capable, expectation capable, recognition capable, situationally aware, emotionally intelligent, goal oriented system. The system, thinks, plans and executes.
Back in the late 80's MIT students developed AI technology on a distributed network (CGI lamp taught to dance). It Learned and evolved in 24 hours what would take 1,000 generations to accomplish. They issued a warning of how dangerous this technology is to humanity.
GEOINT
--Jade 2 plus more
--Communications
“smart grid, meter, etc"
Will be connected to this system
Control the environment
“Microchipping”
It Surpasses RFID technology
RFID chips can be removed
Nodes can be removed on a network--unplug printer
Human beings used as nodes
Eliminate connectivity to global information network
Cash removed
One world government
Domain--Human dynamics, terrain, geography
Domestic threat assessment centers
Activity based intelligence
All aspects of human activity monitored
All collected data to be geolocated
And tied to a specific node of the network
Georeferencing
do you will it
will you do it
it will do you
All three of these phrases
Have equal value
In this system
Which is very dangerous!
**Generate answers to questions
That haven’t been asked, or never existed in the first place
“Ominous” A.I.**--according to the source
Gates and Zuckerberg--want to bring technology to third world nations
GEOINT--Collect all data--for human terrain map
No privacy--no encrypted data
Welcome to Orwell's 1984, Skynet or The Borg
Sci-Fi was telling us what would be the reality
Emotional responses trigger the system
It feeds off of fear and anxiety
All the social networking--facebook, etc
All that info has been collected
Placed into this GEO INT system
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
Love trusts, lust twists
Love rains, lust drains
Love reaches, lust catches
Love couples, lust combines
Love retains, lust detains
Love relies, lust relays
Love cares, lust caresses
Love binds, lust blinds
Love floats, lust flees
Love belongs, lust longs
Love ascends, lust descends
Love fames, lust defames
Love creates, lust recreates
Love commands, lust demands
Love chooses, lust chases
Love boosts, lust boasts
Love at heart
Lust in mind
Love in lust is good
Lust in love is better
Love likes privacy
Lust looks for piracy
Love opens lust
Lust closes love
Love is slow, lust is fast
Love is steady and stable
Lust is mobile and fragile
Love is reliable, lust is liable
Love is long, lust is short
Love is homogeneous
Lust is heterogeneous
Love is defensive
Lust is offensive
Love is precious
Lust is pernicious
Love is supportive
Lust is supplementary
Love is refined
Lust is defined
Love betters life
Lust batters it.
Love has character
Lust has conduct
Love wins over
Lust weans out
Love combines
Lust divides
Love is cool
Lust is crazy
Love is peaceful
Lust is pleasant
Love is wholesome
Lust is piecemeal
Lust comes first
Love becomes best
Love is progressive
Lust is aggressive
Lust laminates
Love illuminates
Love is slow n steady
Lust is hasty n nasty
Love is dense, lust is tense
Lust is conditioned,
Love is air-conditioned
Lust is lovely to begin with
Love is lustrous to end up
Love heals, lust wounds
Love owns, lust disowns
Love is onus, lust is onerous
Love is basic, lust is allowance
Love conforms, lust confuses
Love binds, lust blinds
Be aware of love
Beware of lust
That comes like
wolf in sheep’s clothing
Let the fair blend
of love and lust
rule the roost
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:15 AM UTC
Inside the drainage basin
Bounding my soul
Fluid dynamics
Condense
Phases of water
Gather in the
Mountain towers
Over time
Gravity plus precipitation
Converts
Into snow pack
Come spring
That snow pack
Braids it's way down the mountain
Co-mingling with groundwater
Bubbling up in springs
Gathering momentum
In mountain streams
A constant conversion from
Potential to kinematic
Energy
Streams make their
Way into prairie rivers
Meandering along
Through riparian pockets
Of biodiversity
Reaching a levee
Then breaching
Local, national, and international boundaries
Are no match
As my soul
Finds it's way to base level
In the ocean of your love
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 7:15 AM UTC
*Nothingness always void,
There is something in vacuum!*
What we called as emptiness
Also having something
Full with energy and matter!
*Nothingness always void,
There is something in vacuum!*
If it gets the model set it will accelerate
Bloom and illuminate!
Nothingness always void,
There is something in vacuum!
In fact by mining the vacuum’s richness
A theory of everything may emerge!
*Nothingness always void,
There is something in vacuum!*
Space around everything is virtual
When everyone convulse for existence
Invisible firework display
It is dark energy
Take over the dynamics of creation
and we are dreaming!
*Nothingness always void,
There is something in vacuity!*
Explore your verve in emptiness
Gain oomph to illuminate everything!
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
Before walking through the doorway
Made of trash bags
A woman checked our ID’s
We passed the booth with the feathers and the ball-gags
Passed the woman selling *** toys
Just a white awning with plastic chairs
We sat and watched a man dressed in leather
He was the kind of expert who understood his passion
But for him there was no teaching it
Beer saturated my white shirt
As I sweated it out
I could feel the alcohol in my lungs
I breathed slower as if it would hide the sensation
He explained to us puppy play
The dynamics
He had his own puppy with him
A man so good at making wet eyes
So good at seeming lost
He barked and wagged an invisible tail
Chewed on rope
Probably he thought about burying his bone
What his wife might be making for dinner
Wondered if I had recognized him as a regular
At my work
While taking questions the leather man said
It takes time to discover the puppy inside
It makes me think of how
In order to view ourselves as anything
We need a filter
I want you to **** me
With a ****** full of yes
I told them
If I were a puppy
I would be very stupid
But great to cuddle
We can admit these things about ourselves
While in character
If I tell you
I am pretending to be anything
I can still find ways to pretend to be me
It is like an electric chair
Disguised as a lazy boy
It will not hold you for long
Your skin does not fit proper
It makes me think of my father
The Clown
Who bent me into shape
With his balloon animal breath
Only he had asthma
The empty static
My inner puppy
Is a half deflated balloon poodle
Ends pulled tight like amputee sausage link limbs
Looking lost and lonely isn’t hard
What’s hard about it is
Looking like that was your intention
In character
Some invisible narrator
I can admit anything
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 4:28 PM UTC
Can the unstoppable force overcome the immovable object? The waves have been a teacher with more wisdom than any I have ever had before. Something so constant, so committed, so unflappable as the lapping or crashing of the waves upon the shore. If you need any evidence of her relentless nature, look no further than the foreshore, great boulders and cliff faces worn down to grit. A true mechanical entity, with precise surety, well versed in engineering, mathematics, weather patterns and fluid dynamics. Who would have thought a philosophical question would have an engineering solution? The answer is no, but the question lacks precision, it doesn't quite paint the picture as it happens. I dive into the crashing waves, stretched out long, offering no resistance, the wash thunders around me but still I glide forward in the water like a shark, no resistance. I am the immovable object. Suspended weightless I overcome the unstoppable force by holding ground, offering no resistance as it rages around and past me, trying to capsize me or push me backwards. The way of the seas, the ultimate peacemaker.
The parallels to life do not need pointing out thus, especially to those who fight for justice, the Davids versus their Goliaths. History's great peacemakers have been here before, the art of war is in passive resistance, principled adherence coupled with civil disobedience, your silence is considered tacit acceptance, so be not silent but give unto Caesar that which is Caesars. The fight is an uphill playing field, you must play by their rules, or the game is over, but you can win by their rules if you know where they bend. So stand peacemakers, face rows of riot shields, plow fields as Te Whiti did, collect salt as Gandhi, be not silent, tip toe that fine line between real change and hard time, wherever you see injustice speak, and seek conciliation. Peace is not achieved when nations put down their guns, peace is achieved when people embrace their neighbors as their brothers and sisters. It is achieved when people no longer speak of peace with longing in the same breath as cursing the person that parked in their carpark. Be peace and you will see peace, wish not to see it in the world if you cannot be it in your world. Change yourself and the world changes with you. So can the unstoppable force overcome the immovable object? That much is up to you.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 7:15 PM UTC
Matter can not be created nor destroyed.
Is it the same with love? I wonder.
Perhaps just our love.
One does not create it,
rather falls into it,
proving it's existence.
Love is never lost,
changed only.
It is a chemical reaction,
serotonin
and oxytocin.
The dynamics of our love have shifted.
Once drowning in a volatile sea,
I was obsessed.
Then lying on a dry cracked bed
just as damaging.
Where did the love go?
Into you.
Osmosis of love
through parted lips,
gyrating hips.
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
Like Kundalini's awakening, for long this too was hidden,
the female part of my psyche, consorts
with male in her, to perfectly blend;
with in us flowers the dynamics of Shiva-Shakti dance
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 8:49 AM UTC
Conflict resolution is like a field of mines where shrapnel explodes and uncertain footings pervade their way through the flesh of our workplace relationships.
Professionalism has crossed invisible boundaries beyond the realms of Saturn, don’t you think?
Please, will you consider having political interactions on the territory upon which I reside? You will then truly understand the mechanics of being.
I can correct you. But you must be willing.
Come on, babe! I dare you to venture outside of the box of predictability, because we can then truly arrive at a mutual understanding.
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
Thursday at lunch was the last time I seen her
Questioning my absent-mindedness from the world
Heart beat slowing with each breath I take
My response was a simple request for lonesome
As company angered me to a boiling point
Relocation was followed by echoes of my name, fading with each step
Then momentarily disturbed as I am approached for questioning once again
What's wrong? Why are you being like this? Talk to me!
But silence was all that could've been provided
My intentions would only hurt me
Though you wouldn't seem to care
What's your purpose?
Your questioning doesn't seem to serve a reason
You only care when things reflect negatively on you
And this looked as your fault
Had people wondering where my mind had gone
You ripped my heart from my chest, with no hesitation
Leaving me as your slave
And destroying me with bare hands
So I don't see why you care
What do I mean to you?
You made me feel like less than a human being
I didn't want to be here anymore
I felt like there was nothing else here for me
Smiling dissolved from my everyday life
Appalling tendencies all pointed to me
Even with hope in grasp, effort was something I didn't feel the need to give
I wanted this to end
Emotions covered me as if they were my own skin
Agony, I'd call it
The dynamics of pain could be expressed to in a lifetime
But was dealt to me in less than 4 years of my young life
Perpetual emotions wouldn't leave me to myself
As memories haunted me throughout my depressed days
As my nights grew longer and colder
Loneliness became my only option
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
If my thoughts are my eyes and my mind is Paris,
then you are my Tour Eiffel
penetrating that flat sky line of the buildings all the same uniform height, without change or dynamics,
you protrude out of the flatness, the beautiful change of scene, the epicenter, of wonder.
my wandering eyes always find you
no matter where I am, who I am with,
or what I am doing,
I can always find you above the bustling city
a separate entity
Of hope, and love, and change
Before, Paris did not have the tour Eiffel, but continued to bustle as any city does
still the city of love,
It was missing it's determining factor, it's monument that stood out from all the rest
The landmark that completed the city, that created a place of wonder to surmount all the world, a watching over every building, every garden,
every thought
The last thing I see when rest my head on my pillow,
your shining light fills me with wonder and inspiration as the moon rises in the sky: creating wishes and hope for the future
You always penetrate the corners of my mind
My shining Tour Eiffel
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
Matters of love, you’ve reaped into me
Dynamics of knowledge, richness and profoundness
Bringing age to my heart
Knowing love and knowing brutal pain
More real, more powerful, more beautiful
Gifted consciousness filling missing part of potential
Crumbling down our incompleteness
Loving you more than consciousness of my thoughts will allow
More than the passion of my intensity
To be a model of human brilliance
Manifests within the existence of my being
I am a furnace
You are the only flame
Sparking this wild fire
I am a candle, inanimate,
You are the flicker that gives it life, light, soul
I'm am intrinsic potential waiting to be actualized
You are the catalyst of life breathing momentum into me
Through your existence
A flower, a beacon, weapon to my oppression and pain
Appropriation of your love, impossibility in my life
Immaculate potion to my sorrow
Like a wild flower
Withstanding thunder, hurricanes, and rain
An atom from another dimension
Your pulse travels through my heart and my soul
As dangerous as ore
You are the purest form
Deep underneath farther than I can explore
You are the most beautiful creation
You are the end to my means
Unconceivable new reality to my rebellion
The revolution I await
In the deepest part of my existence
Knowing it might never be
Key to my chains
Chant to my muted voice
You are the embodiment and the soul of my freedom
Always escaping from me
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 11:14 AM UTC
as on a musical score,
our parts are dictated,
spelt out in dynamics,
in rhythm, in pitch, in
timing, in tone.
our fingers are being manipulated
across the instruments of our lives,
abandoning the very soul of our existence.
but observe how a little improvisation
in this large chorus of soulless players
does no harm.
it's liberating -
like a line that cares not for rhythm nor syntax nor sound nor length.
Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 2:02 PM UTC
BROTHER, HAVE YOU GOT A JOB?
SISTER, ARE YOU WORKING?
WE JUST WANT TO EARN A WAGE,
NO B.S. AND NO SHIRKING.
EVERY JOB WE SEEM TO FIND
DOESN’T PAY A LIVING;
ASKING FOLKS IF THEY WANT FRIES
IS THE ONLY JOB THEY’RE GIVING.
IF WE GOT A JOB RIGHT HERE
WE’D HELP TO BUILD DESTROYERS,
MAKING LOTS OF PROFITS FOR
GEN. DYNAMICS AND ITS LAWYERS.
WE DON’T WANT TO BUILD FOR WAR
WE WANT JOBS SUSTAINING
LIFE AND HEALTH AND LIBERTY
FOR EVERYONE REMAINING.
WHY CAN’T WE BUILD WINDMILL TOWERS?
TRAINS & TRACKS THEY RUN ON?
WHY DO ALL OUR TAXES GO TO
WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION?
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 6:31 AM UTC
A poem, for some, is not fuelled by a single thought.
It is not a sudden emotion that yearns to be converted instantly to wordful waste, it is gradual.
It is a volcano, that builds up until eruption is inevitable.
Poetry, for some, is layer upon layer of thought and feeling and concept, hardened over time,
For some, it is hours of pain and joy and the works of the indescribable puppeteer so desperately fused
into metaphor.
Poetry, for some, lifelong.
But for others, poetry is pure spontaneity. It is unpredictable and unlook-back-able.
For others, poetry is their act of carpe diem, their tip-toe into daily bravery and recklessness.
Their mark that is not a scar.
Poetry, for others, is a single moment picked out of an infinity of them and pulled apart, or pulled together.
It is wonderful and hideous, it is skydiving and socialising and swimming with the sharks.
It is instant, it is adrenaline.
For others, poetry is lack of thought or understanding, just the swift transition from neuron to ink or binary.
Poetry, for others, is short lived.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 2:06 PM UTC
She made it vanish
every trace of it,
with her inimitable
feminine magic.
Fully erasing my
post ****** hatred
led me from the front
to an exploration of
ardent, ****** acrobatics
that took us through the
***** dynamics of
****** healing, non peril!
Wasn’t she an all terrain ace?
Aviator making me fly
without wings above the
fluffy soft caressing clouds
The toughest driver on roads
of all kind,keeping pleasure
at the acme through out her drive.
What a swimmer was she,making
me swoon in sensual waters.
Apr 23, 2018
Apr 23, 2018 at 2:33 PM UTC
There was a big boom once
Population dynamics are intrin-
sic functions of gumption
and big booms echo in eternity.
I look at the industrial revolution
through infrared filters
to parameterize the haze of our lives using
a kaleidoscope landmarking
technique andor technology
where the function of plutocracy
(and it is taking shape)
while it resonates on post-reformations
and pre-modernisms
How do you like them schizms?
Living the religion of
capital ~ ism
and paying homage on prayer mats of
blood ~ sweat ~ and 1, 2 many beers
through our blue collar dollars and
masonry jars and crossroads guitars
(and between the bars)
of our own creation.
Now moving toward remediation
and un-plebiation.
I cried vermouth and reconciliation while
they expunged truth and trylobytes.
The inevitability always bubbles up.
And in the trailer park of our lord: 2017
Ricky and Julian and Bubbles
pay homage to a great poet lost: Mr. Lahey.
(within the mystery of our own creation)
Thus we toast to: The Theatre of Life
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 6:09 AM UTC
Rehab for poets is not to flush words or good poetry out of your system
But to feed us more like candy
We have revolutionized the meaning of rehab
Out of etymology and dynamics
We now tell you that rehab for poets
Is for us to be an addict even more
Because enough poetry is not enough
But we do warn to avoid becoming vain or allow fame
To be your demise
Because true poets do it out of love
If you lose perspective
Its not rehab but rather you need intervention
Amy whine house sang the song
“That they want to take her to rehab and she says NO NO”
But we say yes yes
It’s not a drug of self destruction
Take it in its right dose
And you will be fine
I say readers:
Welcome to my world
Out of rehab for poets
True talents emerge
Colliding
Giving magical expressions and flooded emotions
Compiled in words, sentences, phrases and paragraphs
To become poetry.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC
Well, we were the History club rejects,
focusing on the effects
of being us
instead of in a book.
Two college drop-outs,
calling in shout-outs
to our friends,
hoping that it affected
how we looked.
Our dads would sleep in,
and our moms were crying
until a quarter past noon --
and we knew
if we didn't start trying,
that would be us, soon.
We were the starving artists,
painting fruit we couldn't afford.
Hoping each brushstroke of an artichoke
would be fruitful to our wallet,
or at least strike a chord.
Two love-loss orphans,
dreaming of morphing
into something or someone else.
But they told us
to remove that fluff
from our head
and put it on the shelves.
We were the film club fanatics,
studying the dynamics
of how to be a pretend person.
We wanted to be
a Wes Anderson flick,
but we were never any thing
other than who we were
and that's what made us sick.
And I swear I miss the desperation:
I'm nostalgic for yesterday's conversations.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
Osiris is the Egyptian god of the afterlife and triangulation is a mystery within the context of interpersonal dynamics.
The world, as we know it, is subject to greater influences, despite the manipulations of those who presume to be sophisticated.
I love my cat. He is my familiar Sphinx of the West, and I have been acquainted with his wizardry for hundreds of years.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 4:08 PM UTC
Designs and Equations
Was it the ****** Void filling
or Pandora's box opening?
Was it Victoria's secret
or was it the intellect of victors?
Was it the prowess of Hector/Hercules was it?
Was it the influence of Arthur or Har-Thor was it?
What shapes this world?
Ancient Egypt, Pyramids and the Sphinx?
Stonhenge and oblelisks?
Mystery Schools and occultism scrolls?
Crystal technology shifting poles?
Perhaps the hips and curves of a voluptuous African Queen
Perhaps the fall of Atlantis
or the secrets of the Bermuda Triangle
Perhaps the enthralling dynamics of the Photon Belt
Perhaps the mystery of Shamballa
or maybe underground bases where vortex points are
Perhaps the missing Eyepods
Maybe ancient and present advanced civilizations
Maybe it was the fall of Mars or the destruction of Maldek
Maybe the hope of Terra par DOMA
Or a design from distant super universes
or the amphibian watchers of myths
Maybe you, maybe me, maybe we
The I I I I I's of this world
however our eyes blind for we ruin this world
If we looked long enough at the light would we burn out?
If we truly listened could we hear the music of the verses unison - universes created by the Divine Creator?
would we join it/him/ness? Would we hear then Sophia being played as a harp and worlds conceived
Would we see a billion pictures as the cosmos are breathed?
and Karma come to be...
Would we learn of all life forms? Would we learn that there is more structural design than form? Would we learn that there are other mediums of activity apart from life?
Would we learn that structure is part of a larger paradigm of concentrated design?
Would we learn that universes are gardens and that there are worlds beyond the multiverse based on a hill and mountain orientation not dependant on planes?
Who shapes the world?
Our Souls from the ocean of love reincarnating?
The keepers of sacred knowledge at the temples of Golden Wisdom?
Walk-ins and starseeds? Cryptids and hybrids?
Wars or the Sun? The Peoples of the Moon or the base in Venus? The underground bases of Mars or The Order of The Phoenix?
Maybe royal and mob families?
Maybe government with all its true lies
Maybe the networks sustained by the simple minds of you and I
Whoever or whatever is responsible, either through sonic beams and energy manipulation, it is not so much the power of the Empire but rather the power we surrender.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
My living disposition leads me to assert that I am not dead!
Yet, my silence screams ancient transcriptions across geographical contour lines which are considered to be far removed from the metaphorical grid of contemporary societal norms, where the seductions of the vampyre and her haunting dynamics cast their eerie spells within this captivating fishbowl of galloping horses.
The Prince of Wallachia is able to explain.
Let us converse with The Count.
Whenever there is emphasis upon specific detail in this age of certain vanity, I find that, in 1456, I am truly bereft of valedictorian and flamenco odours, because this royal prince of acoustic arrangement has generated a harmonious expression which humbly corrects my intrapersonal assumptions across the mountainous regions of Transylvania.
Conflict resolution is therefore a mere figment of sociological and anthropological constructs, which fornicate with the façade of egocentrism and fabricates vain attempts to maintain social elitism within a blanket of darkness.
How do we find ourselves in the position of being so diametrically opposed to reality?
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 12:47 AM UTC