"echolocation" poems
And I will make sure that if anything were to happen,
It would do little to affect you.
It's not everyday
You find a goose that lays eggs
With speckled jewels and golden flakes
The world is full of incongruity
And there's no doubt about the certainty
That something bad may happen,
And we don't want that, do we?
So listen carefully.
The world is a giant carboniferous spicule
Hanging in a nest of hydroxic gas and particulae
Spinning within the gaps of a blackened dome
Of limitless space and out of control
There is no telling what way it will go
There is no prediction that has fortold
Any number of moments in this tumbling slumber
Between the darkest hell and the further horizon
I so deftly advise you with all certification
To please place your bets and fly by echolocation
Your eyes will mislead, your ears will displease
And there is no way we can refund divine warranties
This machinery
has a half life of quarks
And energies that vibrate into other orbits
Trajectories
Retaining the spin and informative piece
Of that golden goose let loose amongst the canopy
Of dark,
off into neverland, straight on
Till new morning,
Beyond the stars
So please good sir don't migrate away from me
I have so much to give and such pain I have seen
Those that fatten their goose with **** till it quacks,
Those ravenous souls who ate their gift for a snack,
And when life finally cuts them down to their last,
They will howl and yowl and pray that goose back.
This is a game,
Have a good little laugh
Don't waste your time or your money
On a daffy Aflack
Policy that keeps you policed to the earth,
No way to fly,
Stuck in the dirt.
That is no way to live in the dream,
That is no way to let death trickle in
So please, pretty please, make sure you have coverages
And a couple extra dollars in the pocket of those jeans
Wander freely, you great big atomic bomb, you.
Do catastrophic damages and I'll pay your dues.
Ride the road coast to coast,
Fly a bird 'round the world,
Take a truck till you're home,
Find a love you can trust.
Find a place where your egg
And your legs seek nowhere else
Lay down those roots,
It's Eden or bust.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 1:03 PM UTC
I'm a lonely sailor, down four pitchers,
I'm high and low, how often I don't know.
I'm to take commands, I'm not on my own,
Days with bacchanals, nights with dark.
A deserted sailor, with a salient dream.
Whom I'm to speak with? The sea?
I've lost my tongue, I've lost me.
A pure path leading to the moon,
I hear the echolocation of whales,
It's the only company I can think of.
Threats passing within miles, with sharp red lines,
A twisted fate, I dream dancing on my grave.
I get old, I'm ranked high, my pockets are full.
My heart is dry, and smiles are wry.
Whom I'm to speak with? The sea?
I've lost my tongue, I've lost me.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
Dusk!
With a creepy, tingling sensation you hear the fluttering of leathery wings!
Bats!
Glowing red eyes and glistening fangs,
These unspeakable giant bugs drop into view.*
Fibrous wings furred like a moth,
Big ears are just a membranous extension of antennae.
Flying in search of a flower’s pollen laden froth,
Silent except for the hum and squeak of echolocation.
Trap bats in attics, butterflies in nets.
No rabies feared, no bedbug bites to itch.
Clawed feet ****** and grab like praying mantis pincers;
Bloated stomach slopes like a pudgy beetle.
Jaws manipulate like an ant, excise like scissors;
Soft hair rustles like a wooly caterpillar.
They live in darkness, centipedes do too,
Come out at night like cockroaches tend to.
Skittering through the night like daddy long-legs,
Noses snubbed like bumble bee faces.
Wind turbines endanger bats,
Like fans endanger lightning bugs.
Only one percent of bats are vampiric,
Like only a small percentage of spiders are poisonous.
Dawn!
With a creepy, tingling sensation you hear the fluttering of leathery wings!
Bats!
Bats are bugs, aren’t they?
May 4, 2010
May 4, 2010 at 5:04 PM UTC
My cat howls at night. I sometimes wonder why.
I don't think it's 'cause he's lonely.
The door is open a crack and he knows how to get in.
Maybe he's going deaf. I heard that can happen.
"They howl real loud, like echolocation."
Or maybe my cat is a mutant.
All I can tell you, when he starts up like that,
is when I call his name he stops.
And comes into the room.
And jumps up on the bed.
And starts to purr.
So here's what I think—
that maybe what he's doing,
when he howls like that,
is scaring away the monsters so we can sleep.
Nov 2, 2011
Nov 2, 2011 at 12:23 AM UTC
Hold your heart to your ear
*Phump *** Phump Bum Phump *** Phump ***
like a shell that murmurs
*Phump *** Phump Bum Phump *** Phump ***
forever the oceans voice
*Phump *** Phump Bum Phump *** Phump ***
your only tool that honest sound
*Phump *** Phump Bum Phump *** Phump ***
echolocation
*PHUMP *** PHUMP ***
PHUMP *** PHUMP ***
You’ll find Eachothersworld
It’s there in your heart beats
as you enter each through skin and soul
failing at reverse mitosis
but trying still to mend your belly-buttons
a sweaty implosive will
to reach that single point
of singularity
a love that bleeds
outwards and inwards
a white hole
It warms the cooling tub
and causes the plains and the valleys to
softly shift sweetly
like the old dance of mountains
in fast forward
as naked knees caresses each other
up and down
in and out of
the pearly bubble clouds
their shadow stroking you
between rippled light
and their fragrance weaving
a musk of togetherness
as you embrace creating Eachothersworld
It unites two bodies
two minds
a planet like home
permeating times and universes
You’ll find peace there
You’ll find yourself there
You’ll find him there
And no distance can draw a rift
wide enough to split you from each other
because you’ll remember
your hearts beat the same sound
and Loneliness will die
as its stabbed by
sound
*PHUMP *** PHUMP ***
PHUMP *** PHUMP ***
PHUMP *** PHUMP ***
PHUMP *** PHUMP ***
We’ll burry it there
in our skies
our lands
our seas
in Eachothersworld
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 9:28 PM UTC
The lights in your eyes
Flip the switch of night
The rest of the world goes
Dark by comparison
Confusing the crickets
I think if you left
There'd be monsters
Under my bed
Biding their time until I slept
Sharpening their fangs
Practicing their persuasive voices
Whispering "join us"
Until I was one of the things
To be afraid of
Hiding in a child's closet
I think if you left
I'd go blind
Like one of those fish
That lives in caves
Evolving sightless for eons
Bumping into rocks and
Not really caring
Imagining the world through echolocation
And the water's vibrations
Mating for life
Because love is blind
Just like cave fishes
And one fin in the dark
Is as good as another
I think if you left with those lights in your eyes
I'd become something not myself
I'd become unrecognizable
Trying to catch a glimpse of the sunrise
Far away on the horizon
And ultimately shielding my nocturnal eyes
From a light that could blind me
Taking comfort in that old familiar song
The crickets sing
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 9:06 PM UTC
we were driving down the freeway
the air was humid in the 70s
and the cars in the opposite lane
looked like eyes trying
to tell me something
and if you were to swerve
i don't think I would stop you.
So we trudged through a field
of midnight grass
and the purple sky was
starless, the moon
barely had anything
to say
Neither did I
smoke billowing from the
slow suicide in my hand
I watched as it danced inside itself
casting a shadow over
the concrete ground
I want to
dance with you
tenderly as the
cancer danced with
the air.
And the wish flowers
populating the ground
were ghost memories
from my childhood so I
kicked them down and
watched as the burs
whisked away, telling
stories to their kin about how
they lived a worthy life
full of unfulfilled wishes
pool lights from your headlights
onto the white flowers
from the bush you almost ran over
I am so sorry
that you choose to throw away
love after love
I would know, you threw me away
just like
that time we
went to the poetry reading
you wrote in your
journal that you were happy I was here
I was happy too
you crumbled that page
and threw it in the
wastebasket.
So I crumbled my body
and threw myself
down the stairs.
But those poor souls
aren't as solid as mine
and although you managed
to crack me
I inserted a gold plated
filling so I can
sparkle in sunlight
but they do not
have the strength
nor the wits to
do that.
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
Activate prior knowledge,
like a tumor that resembles
a painting of Churchill,
circumlocution
more like an echolocution…
or is it echolocation,
perhaps electrocution?
The sigils of universal coincidences
have finally revealed themselves.
They’re aligning for you
right this very second.
A hair from your head
laying in the bathtub
that reminds
you of a letter
from a long forgotten
language.
A random pattern of a scratch
on your arm from a outstretched
coat hanger in a department store.
An odd configuration of blood
on your arm after you dispense
a pesky mosquito.
A rorschached blob of a condiment
on your favorite shirt.
It’s out there trying to tell
you something very important.
There.
In those things lies the truth.
As much as you don’t want to
believe in it…
As much as you want to
deny it.
It will not live
up to your
memory of it later
on.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 5:50 PM UTC
If all my words were mating calls,
And all my poems merely
The slapping of the waves by
A whale's fins to garner some attention,
If the purpose of all my work
Was only echolocation,
What answer can I make
When a listener surfaces
From the deep, calm and
Implacable, a beautiful inevitability?
What can I say when the man
I dove for comes to me
And says, Here I am,
You can stop calling now,
I will not leave.
What then, when I hold
Coleridge's flower in my hands?
What can I do now - I who have
Pressed my pen to the grindstone
For the purpose of finding him -
Now when all I know to do
Never needs doing again?
May 31, 2011
May 31, 2011 at 1:21 PM UTC
I come out of the oven
Joining a witch's coven
I am born
I must live
So forlorn
I must give
My heart and soul
For pieces of gold
Until I am buried
In the pieces I carry
I could tell by the smell
You were a bat out of hell
Using echolocation
To sense simple vibrations
Buried under my rib cage
You gave me hope
That I'd die of old age
And not on a rope
Good things come
Good things go
I look for the sun
Buried in snow
How have things gotten this low?
I convince myself I don't know
While I watch you disappearing
From people interfering
The pain is searing
And all I'm hearing
From the womb to the tomb
Buried in diminishing room
By the dark clouds that loom
They form a lightning storm
At first it feels warm
But then rain starts to gather
And Earth is flooded
So I'm pushed down the ladder
By the cold blooded
Until I can find no peace
Only grease
To keep moving faster
So I can be an outlaster
And laugh at the unmarked graves
Of those that made me feel shame
I was born with fire in my heart
It was a funeral pyre from the start
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 4:56 PM UTC
what an amazing example
of natural selection you are
primordial to now
pretty good choices were made along the way
i gotta say
it'd be weird if you had echolocation
or anything like that
probably not that strange
if everyone else had it
but that's not the scenario in my head
it's funny to imagine you as a bat
i think you'd be just as magnificent
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 1:29 PM UTC
There is a woman in Europe who drinks coffee at midnight. She has purple hair, but once upon a time, it was brown and she cut it under the table in first grade and let another girl get in trouble for it. She never said a word, let the guilt eat through her bones at night for weeks.
There is a woman in Ireland who is afraid to drive on the left side of the road, although she once ruled the California freeways in her blue pumpkin-turned-purple carriage. With a negative sense of direction and a never ending supply of menthols, she got lost so many times that she had no choice but to be found.
There is a woman in Galway whose skin is laced with ancient spiderweb scars. Years ago, they were angry, open tubes of crimson paint that children had stomped on when no one was looking. But everything fades, even acrylic paints and ancient pains.
There is a girl in Kinvara who is practically a professional at destroying nice things. She tried her hardest to make something beautiful but she was never much use at creation; better at cremation. Burning, bleeding, bruising-- these are her areas of expertise. She has learned to stop hiding from her secrets and her sins and her skin, that it is okay to be made up of matchsticks. She washes her hands too often, but that's okay, right? There are worse things a girl can do. At least, that's what they tell her…
But she's had enough of the poison they've been trying to sell her.
s.h.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 8:56 AM UTC
I can hear the baby quail,
they’re telling me, from in the hay bales
and chirping like little frogs.
While they themselves
**** back their bog pockets,
bloom, press the weak wood, and leak to me.
The trickle-slap pipistrelle
in subito notes, that hit and fall,
that explain to me so frantically.
crooning to me so mutually
and between themselves,
like organs pumping air into each other.
The birds sail on it over fields
relying on the attitude of the night,
feeling out its hot rushes.
In sensory geography,
dependent on a mood of its own.
In an ocean, emancipated from the moon.
The sky-lung, plays its shivering reeds
Where the spores, the sycamore, shattering
in crochets, quavers, in minims,
on any mistral score
are mooring till but a touch of direction.
It hears all of what my fingers feel.
It tastes all of which my eyes are witless.
The asp in the verge tasting me
with undulating flick of forked tongue
in aromatic echolocation,
both received and given by all.
The curious noses of foxes
between the furious foxglove
sifting out the berries of effort,
of strain and sweat in fur
haunting out from the stems.
There they find the scared,
shouting in the language of the animal.
And when the colours leave the flowers with the day
the night is painted in flavoursome air.
The night which licks at your ear,
the night that chatters amongst itself,
sonic charybdis,
whirling in the moth-light.
The dark side of the earth
is facing me.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
Friends, while reading about Quantum fields, vibrating energies and frequencies, which form an unseen but an important part of our life and existence, I got the idea to compose a short poem about Echo. Hope you like this simple poem. With best wishes, - Raj Nandy, 24 July, 2022, New Delhi.
((( ECHOES THROUGH THE CORRIDORS
OF TIME )))
Ever since our Universe with the Big Bang
evolved some 14 billion years ago,
Plasma waves had reverberated through
interstellar space and continues to do so.
They have been detected as a background
humming noise which our Cosmologists
have claimed, -
As the echoing birth pangs which had
given rise to the Universe itself!
We know that bats use their echolocation
to navigate in the dark,
And the SONAR echoes can detect under
water enemy Subs.
Our life is an endless echo, but what we
utter and say,
Comes back to us like the boomerang
one fine day!
Therefore, we must mind the words
we utter and speak,
Since our echoes like our shadow, shall
continue to follow us and seek!
History is a symphony of echoes which
often repeats itself with time.
Even though we have failed to heed its
echoing sounds most of the time.
Perhaps because it fails to sing or rhyme!
Our very thoughts which pop-up continuously
like bubbles from our conscious mind,
Also dissipate and vanish with the passage of
time.
But some of those thoughts remain as echoes
to haunt us later in our dreams,
When the subconscious mind seeks wish
fulfillment during our restful sleep.
In our finely tuned universe the feeling of love,
joy, and happiness, are but echoes of God’s
life within.
Let our footsteps echo down the corridors
of time, -
To make our present journey complete!
-Raj Nandy.
Jul 24, 2022
Jul 24, 2022 at 4:11 AM UTC
they way the brain works
if one of us can do it,
we all can.
that means we all can
echolocate.
have you seen the story?
young man born blind
learns to see
using echolocation
learn to see.
that's why perception is so valid.
why experience is so scared.
why our messages are necessary.
we can learn to see,
what we choose
and the truth.
the truth of origin
has to lay within
me
and you.
we are parts of the whole -
shattered glass pieces
will never become plastic.
that's how I see
It.
To be a simple observation…
we are only
observationally connected
here.
within the atmosphere of our beings
we speak the tongue of essence.
as I peered through the
crystal clear lens
I recognized the tiny protective hairs
and the curve of the lid.
I was amazed that this
perspective
was new.
I wondered when I would
see it again.
and I wonder and I wander.
because that's what the brain does
when its not echolocating,
or meditating.
illusionary cultural beliefs
accepted and embraced as personal
truths
have desensitized our
senses.
commonly, the senses
are rounded into five.
though echolocation would obviously be
six,
vibration communication
seven,
the list goes on…
eyesight is indescribable.
Thanks! be given to the power to see.
so many have "bad" eyes.
recent technologies like
Lasik
are changing that though.
who needs echolocation anyways?
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 2:24 PM UTC
Satin sheets
Like when daddy used to pull them up and down in quick succession
Sending out pretty little waves of air
Searching for you
Like echolocation
And they'd puddle around you
Like tiny hills and valleys
And you
a smooth little rock
Ensconced in a blanket of snow
All covered up
stay there
It's warm, and quiet, and soft
The light filters in in slow pulses
You let your eyes shut over sepia screens
(you wish this was eternal)
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC
Spinning around, trying to find myself through echolocation
Bouncing my sounds off of everyone else
To find where I am.
Stopping to breathe, heart racing
I realize what feels normal and needed
Is keeping me from the truth of me.
Standing still, emanating sounds
Not for validation
But for gift.
Because I stand in the place of something stronger
Than your feedback.
It is a place of bedrock and identity.
It is where He created me to be.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
I'm unapproachable;
Antisocial - like the last polar bear
pondering where all the ice went.
This apocalyptic wasteland's death grip
strikes like Spock's back hand,
but lacks the tenacity to finish them.
Unkempt revenge - pit me against the spent.
I'm locked in combat with these autopilot pussycats
as they feverishly flutter by life on burnt batteries.
I'll stay strangling the head of a lantern
while banging on the door of the Banished
'till those mother ******* get fed up and answer.
I'll subdue every corner of evolution 'til
I grow fangs and communicate via echolocation.
Then I'll circumnavigate the coliseum
like Casper tweaked out on freedom.
Throw away your crucifixes, Lucifer.
That's not what you're supposed to use them for.
This is just linguistics infused with an acid drip;
Fourth dimensional Hieroglyphics ripped
from the pages of forbidden scripture
then translated through star patterns.
You see a pentagram, I see an anagram
dispelling your dimwitted notions.
A page from the past - A name tag crippled
by your misplaced primitive gasp.
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 1:53 PM UTC
I followed
sound waves
and found the time to find
gems in my mind cave when
I listened
then
in the dark I heard it glisten
heart-beat starts weak
echolocation
what's missing?
it's all coming back to me now
the walls around are closing in
walk long halls, tracking it down
another call
another heart
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 1:27 AM UTC
Swirling bats and dusk
clicking echolocation
above the blue pool
in the verdant east Texas pine trees
Mars and Saturn
rise above the treeline
as a fast moving satellite
streaks by from south to north
Cicada calls surround
as the frogs join in
raucous cacophony
of insects and reptiles
I sit on the deck
sipping margarita on the rocks
and watch and listen
to natures show, as I drip dry
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 9:18 PM UTC
The cactus needles gleam in the sun
the desert wind blows a constant hum
a dust devil spins in the distance
jack rabbits scatter as a hawk dives
A pair of Gambel's quail run by
their topknots bobbing
as the sun begins to set
cicadas emerge and sing
The coyote pack joins the chorus
as the night hawk calls poor-will
and the bats swoop and eat
insects, clicking echolocation
I am annoyed by the speeding lights
of the highway in the distance and
wishing it wasn't there to disrupt
the desert evening, into night show.
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 9:10 AM UTC
Behind heartbeat’s syncopation
Where deepest beats are lain
Is Love’s echolocation
That mutual refrain
Which gives Love’s life
To the world, to all and everything
Hearts romp together to resplendent tune
Love’s sweet carolling
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 10:43 PM UTC
Therefore, I opted to
reduce heavy sedation
within unsuspecting reader rabbit
summarization superseded elaboration,
less reason spurring salacious secretion
i.e. a-z expletive epithet, et cetera laced
verbalization crucifixion subsequently,
neither nameless nincompoop (me)
crossing verboten drive,
nor this ditto anonymous
poetic purveyor to burden heavy
onlookers with elegiac colluding bugaboo
even daunting grizzly Adams,
endeavoring exclusively exercising
"E" valuation in futile attempt
to express mild exuberance
entailing English language.
Essentially erudition wrought
elucubration, ecstatic emotion,
enunciation, enumeration, eradication
narrowly avoiding writer's block
concomitent ebullition, emasculation
exacerbation, exasperation,
stepped up escalation elevation
malignant hypertension, encrustation
elementary (my dear Watson)
extemporaneous embarkation
severely affected non exlax induced
emergency enema evacuation,
but not even for the grace of dog
unstoppable elimination, ejection...
exhausting excavation
water closet expedition
elucidation, elation, edification,
vis a vis emancipation,
despite literary emaciation malnutrition
near extinction yours truly,
nonetheless... faint eruption
eureka *********** elongation
emanation awoke new edition
regarding neigh saying kid on the block
elicitation, elocution, energization,
eroticization, estimation, excitation
activated skeletal echolocation
eye opening entrepreneurial effectuation
analogous TVA electrification,
hence enervation equalization
relieved self cannibalization
thankfully discouraging envenomization
invariably in conclusion,
no exaggeration pronouncing
exemption verdict against
my extirpation sore disappointment!
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 12:29 AM UTC
I drift and drown in dreams of thee
Summoned from treasure-chest of Mind
Although not yet harnessed to reality
The dream was splendorous and kind
It left a sheer, serene sensation
Like running riot in the rain
It triggered heartbeats’ echolocation
That mutual refrain
I feel my life is better for having been
Opened to all that’s in your world
Inside the enigma of your soul I’ve seen
In my heart affection swirled
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 8:51 PM UTC