"eletric" poems
when arrived, feels like home
like a bubble, like a dome
peaceful people all around
enjoying this crazy sound
so much colors, crazy figures
all this smells pulling my triggers
intense, incense, aromatic
be tense? no sense, just be static
entering, meeting the fellows
or should I just say some jellos
wiggling with the rhythmic music
for us this is therapeutic
waves of sound hitting my face
punching hard with deepest bass
I believe that things will turn
I choose not to be concernded
this 'so crazy, this 'so good
here we find the greatest brood
jewls of every generation
some eletric, others pacient
colored waters, not for thirst
only if you need a burts
shining patterns underneath
make it hard for me to breath
then the sun comes up for us
contributes for the new buzz
now you see who's there with you
and who didn't make it through
sunglasses get pulled out
soon the sun will loudly shout
soul, mind and body fused
into one nice breakfeast juice
that's when people start to leave
not what I like to archieve
"I will stay", I always say
until the end of the day
molly, goa, lucy, prog
buds and buddys, love and fog
I'm so glad this moments caught me
this is just my type of party
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 2:34 PM UTC
electric night,
an unreal moon-
shining like
pouring white wine,
making the air intoxicating;
in the canoe the girl and i
rowing along the calm backwaters.
water birds with snake like necks
mating noisly in water beds
make us curious,
we stopped the canoe,
near a moon lit creeper thatched grove.
the girl was wide eyed
and wild,
caught me by my waist
and said:
'you should have done this first'
( i was a silly idot,
moon struck, with only poetry in my bonnet)
we fell in to that rosy pit,
without an end,
and i got grounded, delighted
hearing her wild ecstatic outburst.
Jan 11, 2012
Jan 11, 2012 at 9:10 AM UTC
And yet my page goes blank...Full of A lil bit of nothing and a whole lot of space...Which has turned in to a lot...of white..or blue, red, beige, or black
What ever color the paper is...Emptiness...The beginning stages of depressions...the first wave of creative supression...but then eletric sparks..light waves of electrons flowing from my left lobe to my right hand....From my ego to my id...Reaction...satisfaction...Then ink, lead, chalk, what ever I can grab hold of...blood...I would stain this space with blood...for these words will forever be a piece of me...Forever be the life of me....The death in me...And Words fill up my void..the artisic fasination of a blank page...That has been splattered with musical notes of my rhythm...composer...after composure...chaos...after breath...and then masterpice...Wala the ****** to the story...The finale' to the show...The perfect piece of expression upon the page...And as it is turned...My page goes blank Once again...
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 9:03 AM UTC
The pleasure's that i feel they say you never say never is real eletric eels in the water we should probably not go deep,I like to stare at you and look at you while you sleep,I could write a poem for you leave it for you in you're room,Under the moon romance
By jaden christopor syre smith
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
three bags,
two large
one small
two boxes,
of assorted
miscellany
photos of
one and all
two calendars
two clocks
one for the bedside
one for the wall
quilt and favoured pillow
one petite eletric recliner
assorted toiletries,
mostly pretty soaps
decorative pillows
nine in all...
this is what we moved
from place to place
gathering up the fraying
edges of a life unravelling
moving her one rung
closer to the divide
melancholy thoughts
meloncholy thoughts
these are the small pieces
of a life lived large and hard
tears gathered in linen
as new friends are lost
uncertain the path before
sadness at the cause
brave hearted she is
at yet more loss....
brave hearted she is
at what lies before
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 5:04 PM UTC