"encoded" poems
My essay, Changency, is a meme
This meme has been growing inside of me
I've been a carrier
Many of us have been
I'm not a benevolent character though
I've been purposely placing the memetic material on blankets
And leaving the blankets in local trading posts
I call these 'trading posts' bookstores, universities, colleges, schools...coffee shops, pubs, restaurants, etcetera
The beautiful thing is that these memes aren't really on blankets
The memes are encoded on the backs of knowledge, truth, and authenticity
They come from a place of pain
Evolution can be painful (but does it have to be?)
Three dimensions are easy to comprehend
Four, sure just add time
What about spacetime?
And a fifth dimension...I don't really know what that means...but some do and they're watching, listening, waiting, and loving us
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
Despicability is the foundation to their life
For them it is intrinsic
Genetically encoded
Simplistic
Poetically eroded
Reprehensible at best
**Unscrupulously callous
Secrets and facts, they conveniently
ingest
Distorted byproducts, they release to the
masses
To aid their campaign; a forked tongue
fest**
Pathetic and unapologetic
A beast armed to the teeth
Imported bypasses to increase the flow of police
A weakness and an act,
They so vehemently attest
**Harvesting greens off the branches of
the people
Pockets engorged with wads and folds
Crushing blue collars at the lower levels
As they sit atop their pyramids of gold**
Today they sip champagne
To celebrate their reign
Tonight we'll skip being humane
To feed them excruciating pain
**You've incited this coup with ill-thought
deterrents
Now herald the arrival of the scourge
Down with lopsided governments
Tonight... All we would topple! Tonight we purge!**
Justin G
ryn**
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
Morning Rainbow
Myriad prismatic crystals,
refract the morning sun-streams -
painting layers of spectral arches
across the misted horizon.
Eyes turned to the western skies,
we suspend our meteorological selves
acquiescing to miracles unveiled before us -
un-beckoned and scarcely earned,
proffering thanks for the radiant epistle
of healing, hope and promise,
artfully encoded in transfigured light.
Synthetic Refractions
A luminary ballet takes center stage
when synthetic refractors come to play:
crystal pendants bathe our foyers
with dazzling swaths of color.
Hazy coronas encircle streetlamps
discovered by headlights through the fog.
A science class prism slices light rays
into pre-ordered spectral strata.
If the sky denies us a rainbow,
we can always fashion one of our own
and we do!
Spectral Sound
Before there was music,
bird songs brushed our souls
and the murmur of woodland streams
held us captive by their banks.
Soon we learned to sing and tint the air
With prisms of wood and wire and metal
and to color soundscapes in our spirits
With songs of wonder, joy and longing.
Before there was music,
bird songs brushed our souls.
Robert Charles Howard, 2019
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 1:14 PM UTC
some greedy little bitter man has put together a picture-perfect person and out of pure laziness and malignant attempts at control he pays off a psychopath to make it happen but we’re just a little body, flesh and bones come between them and their paychecks so why not make it easier? they made a factory out of our garden and nothing grows in factories it’s manufactured, easy as one two three four five six, we’re all sitting on an assembly line waiting for some alcoholic man to shout at some pimply-faced twenty-something “FASTER! FASTER!” so it begins! press of a button, we’re created, step one: your parents were given the baby books, kids! infants, they’re all the same anyways. they’re not individuals yet, they haven’t been encoded so relax, parents. want them turn out like you? sure, do what your parents did, worked out well, eh? been occupying this factory your whole life, then? well anyways, step two: they spend less time with you because you’ve been in this world for three years so it’s time you get out on your own…. step three: they gotta YELL and scream and children aren’t supposed to touch things or say things or scrape their knees because that’s more work for the adults, and they work all day, just like they were programmed for, good little machines 'cause they forgot what it’s like to be a baby or an animal or a plant or a God but also the resentment, a child wants to live but how ridiculous? there’s no life in industry… all about the money baby step four: you buy your education because it builds your character because money says power but when did meaningless power equal respect? I don't know but they force you into reading the same old instruction pamphlets left in the break room at the plant for the past century or so and five: your turn to work for fourty years in this polluted place because it’s hard to break free from twenty-three years of moulding into a cookie cutter you never did fit, that’s why it hurts so much when they try to push you through, your muffin-top is sliced right off and you’re contorted to fit the view of perfect sugary sweetness but just to make sure you're ready they coat you with vanilla icing to cover up your imperfections, perfect, now step six, and this one is the doozy, and because you’re **** broke: go back to mom and dad’s and grab those baby books and again and again and again the cycle repeats and repeats and repeats….
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 9:03 PM UTC
Our wonderful ad
features full frontal nudes
of chin chiseled, eye pleasing,
ab sculptured dudes.
Our ad shows designs,
simply put: haute couture
You can find all that’s fine intertwined in brochures
that assure,
our ad is a true work of art!
Epic music composed to impose on the heart.
Cheeky infants that dance
in suggestive red glow.
Gargantuan ****
filmed up close and
S -- L -- O -- W -- M -- O
...
Our ad?
Well, by god! It’s a wonderful show!
Cinematic façade that will strike all with awe!
With a well-crafted subtext encoded within
“ALL HAIL PROSTITUTION!”
“ABORTION IS SIN!”
Action!
Gunfire!
Blood!
Severed limbs all around!
Shattered windows!
Kung-fu that exceeds speeds of sound!
Monumental achievement!
Our ad will start soon!
But before, just a word from our sponsor
Stay tuned…
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 1:58 PM UTC
*Electric Dreams Of My Radioactive Ex,
Bio-Digital Jazz Tap Dancing Us Into ***
Lucid Infatuations Infused In Whiskey,
Cupid Fairytales Conceiving Frisky,
A Perpetual Beauty Smoldered In Ecstatic Bliss,
Sublime Sins Between Her Rosy Lips With Velvet Kiss,
Romantic Burns Galvanized In Her ****** Desires,
Seductive Stardust Enchanting My Feisty Fires,
Encoded Serenity In Her Decoded Virginity,
Recoding Obscenities Of Her Fragrant Sexuality,
Hazel Echoes Raining Intimate Bouquets,
Rekindling, Her Drug That Fondles In Her Moaning Glaze,
Enraptured Catalysts Animating In Her Cuddles,
Euphoric Elations Climaxing Into Her Satin Snuggles.
- 02:17AM -*
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 5:00 PM UTC
I'm not an artist but I've opened up galleries with your name painted all over the walls
they're a souvenir encoded in brush strokes of downward spirals and rose tinted tunnel vision
the lights are blaring and my sight is blurred by tears and the street lamp flickers, almost sympathetically
a street lamp can understand, so why can't you?
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 12:48 PM UTC
Once I looked to the Bard for words profound;
ageless, his wisdom ran unabated.
Yet Hamlet is now ideologically unsound,
“the slings and arrows” historically Iocated.
I wept for the creature of Frankenstein,
spurned by his master, forced to roam the Earth.
But I’d been subjectively positioned in a paradigm
by Mary’s anxiety about childbirth.
I read Balzac, Hardy and Henry James
describing “worlds” which seemed quite sensible.
Now Eagleton’s exposed their bourgeois games
I find them morally reprehensible.
I dreamt of being Robinson Crusoe
or proud, fierce Hawkeye in his buckskins dressed,
but Fenimore and Defoe have to go,
they’re culturally encoded and empirically obsessed.
Inspired by Guinness, did James Joyce sit down
to see what magic flowed when he was ******
The stream of Ulysses floats Bloom-about-town
dreamthinkingnever : “I’mamodernist”.
I’d gladly give Woolf a Room of Her Own
and be one of the boys with Hemingway,
but sensitive guys leave their bulls alone
say de Beauvoir and Luce Irigaray.
No more fun with Wordsworth being daffodilly,
no simple pleasure reading Mickey Mouse;
Steamboat Willie can’t help but look silly
dissected by Foucault and Levi-Strauss.
The Bible shows intertextuality
says the two Jacques, Lacan and Derrida.
Judas, a construct of bisexuality?
The **** fixations of Herod are?
It’s got so bad I deconstruct a holiday brochure.
I can’t even **** without Roland Barthes and Ferdinand de Saussure.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
Encrypted lies whispered,
kisses blown.
Two strangers fall in love.
Encrypted lies deciphered
encoded as the truth.
The norm of hearts in denial.
Encrypted lies wrapped
in rose petals
reeking of punctured promises.
Encrypted lies discovered
extinguishing the flame,
fingers pointed.
Who is to blame?
Encrypted lies forgotten
but love not.
Heartbreak is an easy price to pay than to fall for false pretence.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 3:59 AM UTC
.ah here comes england with its eccentricities, ah hier kommt polen mit seine christentum: where anyone can be a messiah, as stressed by the byzantines.
my first love was the love of the english grey,
(in honesty mentioned it was
the double-decker first, since
i fancied myself the great bus-driver of
the no. 5 bus back home)
earl grey came and said: ‘i can’t look
at these skies without sunglasses!’
and so it was, mid-autumn with sunglasses
at loss the sun-worshiper
enter the moon idiot,
looking for accents, looking for anything.
in england they called him das deutsche -
for reasons believable enough;
the luftwaffe eagerly anticipating the tunnelling
centipede that is the euro-star train-tunnel:
the panzers are rolling in!
the panzers are rolling in!
strange he never minded the coal-miners as useful
as minded by edvard gierek von silesia -
to the dispute of silesians not ex-patriated to saxony
(oh wait... texan boy doesn't sound as
nationalistic as minnesota boy?).
ooh pokey poo... writing about germany
became so **** so recently, i forget that i started it:
here’s to the english language’s chirality of s and z,
actually being superimposable:
from words in the socratic sense as encoded by plato
i don't get a bunch of ideas... virtue
does not make me ponder it with meaning or definition,
i only see the kabbalistic sensibility
of anti-alphabetical sequencing as v
i r t u e...
otherwise e i u r t v;
almost sounds like s.t.d.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 6:33 AM UTC
feathered daydreams
semantically encoded heartache
we all remember
i remember
where we came from
we never go back to again
rationalizing pain until it
becomes a drum
and it echoes
*i fall down the stairs again
hit my face on the tile
and when my lip bleeds
it comes as a relief*
two-pence for lovers
a penny for thoughts
shots of chamomile to chase the night time
away
butterfly beats
ba-dum ba-dum
ba-dum-ba-dum-ba-dum
fluttering
like eyelids longing for greater ends
spit out that memory
pull it out of your ears
maybe it doesn't really
matter anymore
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 7:04 PM UTC
is there noon on this comparison, and where does the stabilising hour care to fathom the giant and dwarf shadows of original shapes? if there is no magnetism of the clock's hour, minute, second, then the only magnetism apparent in the encircling of digestion / decimalisation, is to say the north of a compass, the compass' north equivalence of a clock's misdirecting eternity: of space for a clock asserting a mingling reason: the compass found it's existential reason in the north, yet the clock found it's "north" without care for magnetism, it equated the north with space, and yet what was encapsulated with rotary qualities? for clock the perpetuation of tick tock in space / for the clock treated space as a one-dimensional abstract, with its three-temporal awareness, and yet the compass said north thrice, and on the fourth said Antarctica was loosened to be explored.
i'm so tired - lifeless poetry,
make words encoded; i'm so tired,
so tiresome of other people
with bellies filled
and eyes in medium postponing,
to compass the needle
a gravity of servitude for the
clock of 12 (north), 6 (south),
and the disputed 9 (east) with
3 the (west),
darting eyes in Bahamas
for direction coarse yet coerced
by a promise, thus the compass riddling a madness
of constant stimulation with magnetism and
the magnet cursor of orbit -
wound three dimensions of time,
space optional, space always optional,
as ever time over-arching to be understood...
where then the compass, where then the clock,
if the compass led by vector of magnetism
to an uncertain place,
if the clock led by vector of missing magnetism
to a certain place of eased: tick, tock, tick, tock...
will that be equally given a wavering of
east, west, east west.... north, south...
what now?!
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 7:47 PM UTC
This is my diary
of the world,
a trillion million
copies of the one,
digital diamonds,
faceted and mirrored,
dispersed on binary winds,
encoded, decrypted.
It is the proof of my love,
tangibly viewed,
empty
handed
txt
4
u
(-_-)
now i am forever
hardened
hewn
cut
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 1:26 PM UTC
I can never linger
it isn't written in my genes or encoded in my blood
in fact I simmer like a deep-brewing fire
only the wind on my cheeks
& the scenery whizzing by can stifle my flames
whimsical indecisive fickle
no commas can contain me
I am this metaphor & that simile
I am those paradoxical adjectives & I don't create irony
I am the irony
free spirit & old soul I have been labeled both
whatever you like to call it I can never linger
a blessing or burden either way
the loveliest blooms always depart from the fields the fastest
you have never seen a fairy because they carry on & on
carry on so quickly
I am the soul of your lost father & I am the nostalgia of your dead mother
I am all things mystical & majestic
the weeping willow tree by the lake & the lightning that smites it
the strength you misplaced is found deep within me
wherever I go love will seek me out & find me
but I can never be contained & I can never linger
I only wish to "burn, burn, burn like roman candles across the night"
so please
do not ask me to stay
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
Where encased is the secret of bliss
Is it encoded in any talisman abstruse?
Does it linger unseen on the face of angelic babes
Who with smiles and laughter create such heavenly vibes?
Can it be in the eyes of charming belles
Who hold the world under their mesmerizing spells?
Or is it in the heroic deeds of valiant men
Who on the face of death, undaunted remain?
Can we behold it in the brilliance of the rising sun
Or in the serene calm of the misty twilight dawn?
Does bliss hover on the banks of streaming brooks
Or on the heights of snow clad mountain peaks
Can it be with fair Venus- Queen of Love
Or in the arrows speeding from amorous Cupid’s bow
Does it glisten in the silvery beams of the shining moon
Or in the setting sun’s embers of amber and maroon
Can it be somewhere in heavens so high
Beneath the fluffy clouds quietly gliding neigh
Can sweet Paradise be the seat of bliss
Where seraphs sing, angels dance and nothing is amiss
Nay, it surely resides not in worlds beyond
But here on Earth, in the union of hearts with love abound.
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 9:09 AM UTC
go ahead and make complaints about the texts you aren't getting back but remember that i endured months of a screaming silence that hurt my ears and rendered me a walking empty body
sorry that i couldn't be enough for a family that set me up to fail the second i stepped in the door
he's bringing her places we used to go and it's to overwrite the data already deeply encoded
i'm sure that our footprints and traces of who we were are still everywhere we ever went because time with him was on a different continuum and they shouldn't be trying to upset the balance
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 9:14 PM UTC
Emma’s Journey
Now no more the slanting rays
Of rain or snow, this poetry
Of weather charting the bright haze
Of days on Earth, sweeping melodies
Did your forget even for a time?
That our days here are limited?
Feel it slipping like an evening hymn
The months become years of lost moments
Most musical and to heaven extending
The loves ones leave us now
The Sun we once held so dear
Is softly descending, O Lord our waiting eyes
This universe as wide as the speed of light
These ***** nightly meditations for what
You would have become, little signs
Of creation and contemplation
While my world is growing dim
Now no more the crimson blaze
Of fiercely loving, give me wisdom
For these tragedies, of losing and loving
And starry pleasures of transcendent gestures
Encoded in art in private moments
Of what it feels like to be lost, anonymous
And solitary, the unexpected sleep
Of a youth dying before their course was set.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 6:47 PM UTC
Got home from the hospital late last night
Still can't seem to find my appetite
I can't seem to sit still
There's a hole that I don't know how to fill
I've listened to my ipod non stop
Headphones so loud I feel my ears are gonna pop
The dice will fall as they may
But at the end of the day
I know that they were always loaded
I feel like my life has always been encoded
Protected by a cipher I could never completely break
I never truly understood what was at stake
Until that day last week
When you and I were hanging by the creek
We were laughing and tossing rocks
Just relaxing having good long talks
When my vision started to go hazy
and I know this is crazy
But i knew then that I was dying
And you started crying
I felt a sharp tightening in my chest
I lost consciousness as the attack progressed
I woke up in my hospital bed
The doctors told me that I should be dead
They used phrases like "suffered major cardiac event"
I asked what that meant
I told me that I had a heart attack
I was immediately taken aback
I was only seventeen
This was almost something that was unseen
Arrhythmia was the name of the disease
They said it was easy to manage with medicine and their expertise
But now I can no longer rest
Knowing that I have ticking time bomb in my chest
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC
Poetry is not frozen.............
Still surged in poetry
A stream stemming from the crux
An energetic reflection
An external of internalized intuitions
The flow of the words
Attuned and harmonized
Umpteen snow, melodic tunes
Visualized dreams mending arts
A bursting imagination
A word behind the beats
A free energy of octaves
Pulses of natural architecture
HP our home of anonymities
Acquainted monikers broadcast
Poetry strum through the universe
The singular tones attached
Poetry a scaffold of true expression
A design encoded to amuse
The beauty silhouette on plinth
Hollowed ice with steaming warmth
Poetry the distributed condenser
Sliding from 126hz to 136hz
The domineering kingship
Posing the echoes in words
Keep going everyone at HP, you are all beautiful!Lets the words dance
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
The sunset sparkles on the seas here
And the wildlife is lush and diverse
The origin of species lies here
Encoded in the smallest of birds
The tortoise knows where he is going
He knows his place among the island
I have found true peace in these beaches
And my history amongst the bright sand
I can feel the entire world here
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
So many emotions tonight
I just cannot keep
them in
They are bursting out
from this jar of stars
that I keep next to my bedside
and tonight I couldn't
close it tight
if I tried
yes they are erupting out
as the lid
flies to the skies
messy emotions everywhere,
all over the
bedcovers
spilling onto the carpet
over my fingers as I attempt
to catch them
now I see
that the stellar energy,
just busting
through the ceiling,
up through the roof
and over the stratosphere
is mine
it seems that
I am going for a night- ride
amongst those
brightly encoded particles
sensory endings a-glow
reaching out like starfish
infinite pieces of our being
as they meet the forces beyond
I am rushing through those
night clouds
fluidity floating
trying to understand it all
attempting to know why
How can I make it right
How can things get back on path
And then I realize
This is it…
The path
I am on it
the pieces
will come back together
only after
they freely
unabashedly
shatter
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 3:39 PM UTC
Detox needed, salt enzymes, mother Apple cannot purge
Somewhere under the soul is hidden
Deep heavy air, speleothem drips, blind salamanders fish
White light is in the mind, refresh, delete, refresh
Delete
Hardrive needing replaced, mother board comes on like a crippled play thing
Eve is there, canines sunk in the mother apple
Pages sunk in
Sun's of God
Has now refurbished and has now encoded for the next restructure
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
You lie on your back in the meadow
the big yellow blue in your eyes
You're golden, unfolding and gath'ring
the love of the limitless sky
And there's no need to fear
that this feeling is one that will pass
As your fingers entwine
in the dandelion shimmering grass
And they're sensing a message encoded within
the language of everything
And you're searching serenely for symbols
In the breath of a butterfly's wings
Now the sunlight is scattered and shattered
by the broken grey blade at your side
And your banner is ****** and tattered
Though you cannot remember just why
And your eyelids descend
Your features are soft with a smile
You breathe out and in
with the simple regard of a child
And you know as you go that as one story ends
another one surely begins
And you're searching serenely for symbols
in the breath of a butterfly's wings
Now you've happily danced in this pattern
for as long as you care to recall
There's a tapestry tangled around you
that you've barely affected at all
And you're taking your leave
as a cloud dissipates in the sky
And you don't even ask
why a tear trickles down from your eye
Yes you cast the thought out, there is no room for doubt
when you're hearing the fat lady sing
And you're searching serenely for symbols
in the breath of a butterfly's wings
Now the sun can be gentle and loving
the sun can be angry and fierce
And it is what it is in the instant
That it glints in a dying man's tears
You go when you go
you depart from the path you create
And you know what you know
in the moment you know it's too late
In your peace and your bliss it was easy to miss
all the people who pulled on the strings
As you searched so serenely for symbols
in the breath of a butterfly's wings
As you searched so serenely for symbols
in the breath of a butterfly's wings.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 10:18 AM UTC
Death's hand, wrong paths in my eyes, creates lies
Mind's blind illusion of awake dreams forgotten being written ancestors message letters when together most rhyme speech encoded image visions portrays
immortalized, Truth, why it represents kind souls alone
sing words that shape diamonds, gold
bodies cold buried though ignored still speak
Brings better days night
Suns light skies shed tears, never known real fear
whenever one says end here,
is near,
Why I fight, kid's cries, explain,
Moments without pain are holy any ways remembered only who's thoughts pray
show its presence, proof stands clear
Soldier vision wise protects youth
Mine lacks peace breathing slow maybe smoke
Daily around me controled fades raising dead
Rhythms bring natural flowing mystic air sacred heart's escense blessing all heavens described mother's crimes giving life artisticly seems hate's
left, spiritually these rhymes paint reality like
Rivers flow
Stars and moon carve stones
Shape oceans emotions form storms, destroy
Imaginations,
Falling nation witness, our creations
Walk hell populations lost brought well tought
People when modern slave's the cost
Last option weak hold mother lands for
building war watching flowers grow
Children laughing those missing homes fighting poverty replaces birds flying revolutionaries
bleeding sadness fisically, eternal family
single race worldwide
Stays immortal.....
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 1:22 AM UTC