"encyclopedic" poems
(Inspired by article below)
I.
Continuity
your filibuster egg of sand
dazzled curiosity
with creaky shell of hints
heaped upon the tedium
of knowledge's unfurl undeterred
by encyclopedic impatience
Assurances of rip(Van Winkl)ed
economics shooed paper strings of
revelation like anarchy-powered
taxes summoning a foreword
to anachronistic campaigns
of environmental friendliness
II.
Meanwhile years
have been filed down to flashes of
chronology for continuity's organic rebus
However long it took
the economic karma to fall into the
abodes of hedonistic pharaohs
it was instant
Skin that ruled behind the constitution
of allergic breath
bailed on the bones against their most
sublime intentions
Limbo-treading landlords
huddled in their mummified freeze
after breadline bashers scolded them
with the spoils of a new brand
of pyramid scheming
Robbers of the coffin palaces
stole the intimations of identity
theft from today
Immortality and freedom
were compelled to share a meaning
like estranged siblings
or bound dynasties
I(a).
Abydos
how you coyly toyed with us
with a diversion bordering on monolithic
04 23 14
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
OOO!
He is worried!
Again!
the Mr. Perfectionist.
It’s almost Carnival but
He hasn't yet got a mask
with specifics
outlining
his ballads
and jests
he
surly lists his bests
in two principle steps
of CAPS :
1)
* Feeds the Bats and
* Tempts the Charms
2)
* Cheap N Handy
* Quixotic but Scary
* Not too Trendy
and he cries
Yuck!
EW!
Husky!
What's worse than
a self-adoring pathetic bat
in my whereabouts!
I can't get the stink and shrill so I help him fast
'Yo what's the worry!'
-I say friendly -
'you need not hurry
cause I think you already are ready!'
-I continue enthusiastically-
'Here! Try this one
My top design
Custom fit chemistry
A truly NO Risk Recipe
and of course
Specially designed for you! '
'for you for youuu
to echolocate
such is an eye-gaze
for the half-blind
such is sound
a vibration that propagates
in ears and brains of pretty gulls
and of course
only for youuu'
- I sing loud a common bat ad just to stimulate
my client and continue- merrily explaining my serviceable recipe
*for 2)
Wear your white shirt just
...as always
the one I know
you know?
the webbed one
weaving grace
and don't forget to
iron it well this time.
*
*for 1)
Put on your true face!
I reckon then
and can guarantee
...as always
no one will ever recognize you .
*
In a flight he disappears glad and I hope he won't show up till next year
What can you do I say to myself and quote a encyclopedic fact about my client.
All things have a place, you don't really need to like them but these ones pollinate flowers and disperse fruit seeds and they are economically important as they consume insect pests reducing need for pesticides.
I say while I ventilate my head with an OM mantra and an incense stick
Bah what a stink what a stink...
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:34 PM UTC
Always some drunk ******* standing in the back of the bar who feels his life's mission is to continuously shout boisterous requests for "Freebird" during the encore.
Second hand smoke thick as English fog and deadlier than a toxic chemical spill in the middle of the driveway.
The load out and equipment set up in which the drummer inevitably excuses himself from working with any other piece of equipment besides his drums, since "there a big enough hassle on their own".
The inevitable bartering for free beer which during later years became a case of being lucky if you got your drinks at 50% off but even then sometimes you wouldn't be given a tab.
The lone dancer at the very beginning of the first set, never the most attractive lady I in the house and all too often she made it through a whole song without a dance partner. It always seemed like some kind if code, especially when an inebriated gentleman would hook up with her. But I never figured out what the jig was about.
Always a drummer in the house, the real deal or an enthusiastic amateur. They will find a way to play the drummer's kit. Don't even try to stop them, for any reason. They will play.
Likewise the older gentleman with the button up cowboyshirt, the one with the stale pack of Marlboros in the front pocket, he will try to impress you by claiming to know every song Hank Williams ever sang. The wise gambler bets that indeed he does have an encyclopedic knowledge of Hank's repertoire. Unfortunately he never claimed to have the pipes to pull one or two or three off himself...but that won't stop him from begging and soon enough he'll be under the spotlight singing "Your Cheatin' Heart" with every word and melody spot on but voice that could turn Hank's mother away. He is the anti-PR agent for Hank Williams. After people hear him butcher the songs they don't want to know what Hank sounded like singing them.
The bouncer is your friend. If such is not the case before the show begins make every effort available short of paying him your whole salary to secure his loyalty. Trust me here.
To be continued
Yep, much more to com
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 12:08 AM UTC
Analytical minds share symbols like currency, defining the present's possible.
Tip an 8 sideways and infinity tumbles out,
but sadly for us, there is no word for , so it doesn't exist.
Modern idioms can string together only hints of divinity:
A Hebrew Prince raised by Egyptian Pharaohs wrote a book about the I Am.
Our language fails pathetically, scarcely the words for what Moses saw in that burning bush.
We know he saw God, lived to tell in writing.
Grasp the Key for the 6th Angel's Little Scroll, unlocking his original Ancient Hebrew.
Like math, each letter is a picture hieroglyph, and a meaning, and a number.
Add letters together, each word is a painting, and a poem.
One sentence is paragraphs of meaning, on four dizzying levels.
One concise chapter speaks a vertigo of encyclopedic volumes.
First to Analyze the most important hieroglyph in Genesis,
so important, do not pronounce it, so its sacredness will never fade:
At top, the sign of Life, then doubled, and the sign of Intelligible Light between.
So becoming a unique verb; all other verbs derive from this, the Creator.
Then add the sign of potential manifestation, with foundation in eternity.
IHOAH
a verb/noun signifying exactly The-Being-Who-Is-Who-Was-And-Who-Will-Be
A vertical hieroglyph pictorially resembling a Man.
Then:
The letter with the sound of A looks like: , and means the physical manifestation of
A= the physical manifestation of, D= man, A= the physical manifestation of, M= woman.
ADAM, with its root word in red clay.
A noun, collective humanity in physical form resembling spirit. (one meaning)
Vertically hieroglyphic one sees a man; but it is smaller (another meaning)
Adam, a shadow of IHOAH.
Let me explain how Moses reveals DNA....
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 2:14 PM UTC
Breaking waves, folding in river bends (meandering)
with an effortless grace
Cupids mouth, foaming to return -
broken and filling up the landscape.
Cracked horseshoes
waltzing across a vibrating brain,
all the worlds night
quartz, cutting drunk into
your Green city.
Banishing a sense of self
uprooting positivity, displacing our discontempt -
boil out the water from the soup of human condition.
Boredoms grace.
We're rotting, lizards tongues
wearing the past, skin deep
Imbued.
a morbid relocation of entrance
authority, a fee
Reflecting light off your face
always leading back,
back towards a tabletop nausea.
Caked in powder,
i make my way over -
licking my finger and rubbing away
at the cracks formed years ago
wandering in and out of Escher's wet dream,
hoping to settle mind and body
numbed and lethargic,
medicine doesn't help.
An open patio door,
grooming in the whisped brown dawn -
7.34am
God's rags, crisp
displacing particles against the mountain lip
red light brewing in the observers mind.
Cubes of water
pushing through into tomorrows wake
all unwrapping like 1,000 words
diluted into one second.
I'm tired
appetite gone
graven, knowledge of the inside of my mouth
encyclopedic and (almost) boring.
It's closed again
at the crux of abandon,
the skies youthful,
built from wood, holding up the trees.
Excess - child's play for Atlas.
Rogue, electric Blue.
Mollusc in hand
living, lipless
just outside the geopolitical borders
heading back towards maturity.
Nihil,
projects objectivity, sycamore due, borders
as happiness combed our soft necks.
A situation is only what you make of it,
we're all in on this
living together in leaves -
by roadsides
making homes where we sleep.
The sky is on fire
exploding into fruition
as hot chlorine licks against unwashed belly buttons and hair
going blind and stripping back
it breaks you.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
It's not easy speak
or a Speak Easy
when conversing with him,
dark'ling gremlin toothless grin
but he's your friend so I carry on
with Yoda in the corner of my mind
"judgmental you must be not"
and Comicon's collective excitement fading
as the light will do in the west...
We speak easy with the circling
of the communal pipe
crystal peace in mists of glass orbs
oil burner fog horns
piercingly in & between my ears
but its not so easy to ignore
the scent of death in his halitosis
We spoke of Superheroes
their idiosyncratic identities
His secret celebrity crushes
envying Green Lantern’s ring finger
he speculates on Cyclop's orientation,
"Y don’t you make me an X man, professor?"
Informatively encyclopedic volubility,
Mike speaks queerly and toofless
yet well versed on oral
said he rims pacific beach boys
(And I can smell the white lies
wafting from his mouth)
as I color at his studly fairy tales
and his idolatry of prepubescent innocence
the hyper kind of **********
as he verbally recalls the taste of how sweet
the sweet untouched were...
*"The most gorgeous boys I’ve ever seen
in **** or anyplace on the face of the planet
comes from and are probably ******* now
in Europe... Mmm, European boys...
I want to use my life’s savings to go there
enter the war zone and come back wounded..."*
I can't even imagine
Shrapnel jacked backside, points and protrusions
grandiloquent mouths and holes full of
enunciations...
"Fourteen is the age of consent there..." he is smiling
a caricature of a wolf *** fang less
Such a pseudo wanna-be
possibly already
********* friend from the broken rainbow factory,
how I chuckle uncomfortably
shake my head disbelievingly
oh the humorous horror of it...
(I'm grinding my teeth, until I notice myself
doing so and get an image of him
with a gummy grin,
I preoccupy my thinking
nodding as I half-heartedly half listen)
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 12:54 PM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
My name is nomenclatural postmodernism
My age is a blend of colonialism and freedom
My gender is engendered minus bias to LGBT
My languages is cultural defense from cultural Darwinism
With subaltern survival in the south-south dance,
My place of birth is epicenter of globalectics
My education is cosmetic with a knack in encyclopedic sham,
My work historiography is dialectic ignobling of the worker
As proceeds of my hand equally ennobles the master,
My profession is maximum respect to economic powers that be,
My schooling was done in two huge palimpsests,
My focus is to achieve poetic obscurantism out of artistic destituence,
My referees abode in the beatitude that blessed are they who thrill in ideas
For them is the kingdom of kingdoms in the global uni-polar politics.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 6:43 AM UTC
Encyclopedic mainframes
Lap-top heads
Power-boxes for multitudinous outlets, plugs, chargers
Conduits manipulating
Fiber-optic arteries
Artificial energy
ZAP
Pale lights
Computers aglow in dark cloistered bedrooms
Powered pacemakers stalling at microwaves
Electrocuted blood - cookied fantasies
Ads proclaiming everything free!
Pharmaceutical elixirs for limpness, lumpiness, loneliness
Snake-oil for suffering
Nigerian kings, Syrian refugees
*********** clever memes, whimsical gifs, shocking news, witty banter
Socio-politic-religous-diatribes
Spewing on every thread
Existential *****
Aroma-less cuisines
Vacuumed vacations
Youtubed communions
Suicide selfies.
Crucifixdrones - pedolandia
Jdate.POF.AshleyMadison.Match. Eharmony.SpeedDate.OKcupid
CG. Missed encounters...
Serial killers,
Pixalated ******* vein-throbbed **** shots, cardboard gloryholes
Instagramed I
Inviolate I
Internet I
I I I
No sweaty arm pits, cottage cheese, gray nose hairs or belly fat
Computer [ScreenShot]
While behind, posters hang: The Doors, Tupac, NIN, The Smiths, Hendrix, Joy Division, Nirvana
HandshapedHeart.
2D souls
Text-dating
144 word manifestos
#revolutions
Archetype emoticons
Doodled centaurs
Caged in matrices
Transcendental notes
Need a hit
Of internet smack
A line, a pinch, a drag
A like, a comment, a kudos
A reply, a thumbs up, a share, a poke
One measly view
Baby, come on, give me a fix
Just one
Notification: ding-beep-buzzzz
I want to dissolve like alka-seltzer in tap water
Otherwise I'm a used-up toothpaste tube
Sitting in a dank medicine cabinet
If not, I am
A stick-figure created from matches
Drowning in a drum of gasoline
Not buried beneath pregnant soil
No. dumped into blue recycling bins.
[Ctrl +Alt+Delete]
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 3:42 PM UTC
Umbridging the gap
and the platitudes of word-whores
as well as the Encyclopedic pimps of posh
spiced with lingual ice...
Because I am a simpleton
with a thirst for the Beloved
and its discriptive meanings, I am
scholarly lacking
Juxtaposing my script to refer
to references Grecian or urn,
enflagrante artisan
spurts with superlatives and
personified iambics of rhetorical lines
limned with deep shagrin
because my verbs are linear
even when my chicken scratch
struck midnight a match stick
flame to illuminate
my poetic fluffer's formulae
schisms from my own mind's magician hat...
Not to be-little or slight those hands walking
that yellow the pages
with slothly seeking rote
for meandering bibliographies
a librarian's histology fingers for Captain
Cook / exploration's verbose
exploitation if at most
connecting dots treasured maps
of purposeful / placement for imagery
in the textiles
of poetry's destined and enlightening
cloak & dagger or a Throw
or a goose-down warmth
of Love / to blanket the night away
just as would a mother's / tucking in
from the day's overwhelming
lack of reverances, referenced
oh how to closely listen / or live
beyond the history
to be in the moment
comparing and sharing
our joys and the power of now . . . keep it simple
because I am a simpleton with a thirst
with a thirst for the Beloved,
the Truth of a promise / endowed Tao of Us. . .
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 1:22 PM UTC
You seem confused
And in such seeming
Or seeming as such
You appear to touch
On sadness
Tickling melancholy
As you drown out
The overlapping, overwhelming thoughts
With deafening, hollow silence
The brittle backbone of that
Olympically-shit-giving-less ego
Has snapped
The dam cracking
With forceful cascading
Imprisoned emotions
None other at the helm but fear
Write out what weights heavy on your heart
And calm this anxious, growing fervor
Combatting calamity as you stop to hear
Those countless rolling trains
That seek potential problems
And simplest solutions
As they echo through the caverns
Of your restless mind
You are the only one with access
To the encyclopedic truth inside
Help yourself to find
Where your discomfort swims
On those distracting tides
That when ignored
Become enraged
Engulfing from behind
E.Poe
April 2014
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC
In each moment, each pursuit
Improvise.
It’s nothing more than living Now.
Of course you’ll f---k it up at times:
Mistakes belonging to a human
As does dust upon a mirror.
In each moment, work or pastime
Improvise, extemporize.
You have encyclopedic knowledge
In your little life-so-far;
Gifts and talents, skills, capacities;
Experiential knowledge
You absorbed the moment you took breath.
If you do what I advise
You see patterns that transmogrify,
Patterns that will make you wise;
Patterns when you make each minute your device.
Despite anomalies,
Quirks, and incongruities,
This the key to bring to light
The star you are,
Becoming brighter with each gesture.
Make a pact with you yourself
Put old habits on the shelf of things gone by.
You improvise,
You start to fly.
By and by
You are the sharpest, deepest, most profound and visionary
You alive.
Improvising Your Way Through Life 8.5.2017
Definitely Didactic; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;
Arlene Corwin
Aug 5, 2017
Aug 5, 2017 at 8:17 AM UTC
No one listens.
We are all waiting our turn
Spin the bottle of conversation.
Watch for re-action.
Deciding to respond
Construct witty reply.
Or not
Miss your queue
Save your response for another conversation
I think they are blagging it better than I,
Their conversational repertoire seems encyclopedic,
If they speak much longer my response might require knowledge,
Or even some insight,
oh my!
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 2:37 AM UTC
A Master manipulator
Self educator
Deflection of a radiator
A Condur of a timless Century
Grasps minds with all entity
Remorse for no one but envy
encyclopedic with words
Tempting to the foes
In love with more quotes
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 9:32 AM UTC
One benefit of being my friend
is gaining access to my near encyclopedic
knowledge of cartoon shows.
Nov 28, 2021
Nov 28, 2021 at 6:56 AM UTC
i have stood amidst the stacks
in the Library of Congress, stared
up at all the books flanking the walls.
i tried to count, once. too many,
the more’s the pity. still,
at least i found a metaphor
for the way your mind unfurls
like the pages of my favorite book—
spine cracked, annotated notes
crowding the margins, dog-eared
corners creased to mark
the contours where i stopped
to linger.
splay my gaze across the parchment,
chasing consonants left and right
and back again. encyclopedic psyche,
blossoming as i play my fingertips
across the periphery of your philosophy.
a hundred-hundred questions spill
from me like a Rube Goldberg Machine,
one inquiry triggering the other
in an endless cascade of mystery.
if i cannot shrink myself down
and lead your white blood cells
into the fray, i will remain
to stitch your battle-scars.
watch as i spin
words like thread
weaving polysyllabic,
kaleidoscopic tapestries
if only to grant you
some measure of comfort.
and if these lines
can make your heavy heart
light, then they will tumble
like waterfalls from my lips
buoy you in their expanse
until you float upon the surface
light as air, iridescent.
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 12:59 PM UTC
i know no bliss like getting lost within
the endless expanse of your genius.
trace the chasms of space-time
right to their origins: a big bang
rupturing split atoms, sending
every ounce of matter cascading
into the blossoming cosmos—
spiraling outward for all infinity,
unfurling like the petals
of some intergalactic carnation.
i cannot fathom a better metaphor
for the majesty of your psyche.
you are the monastery where i seek
solace from this miserable existence.
i could stand amidst these hallowed halls,
stretching out all around me,
admiring the stained-glass windows
set like so many precious stones
for all the days of my life
and still come away dumbstruck
by their effortless incandescence.
let me bend back the pages of your brain
like my favorite book: well-loved, highlighted,
and fit to burst with the scrawling pen
of my annotations. feed me, Dark Strider.
nourish the broken bits of my spirit.
wild and free, unbowed, unbent—
you answer to no one. you deserve
nothing more and nothing less
than a thousand-thousand poems
written to commemorate your existence.
you are an encyclopedic library displayed
in kaleidoscopic multicolor, i want to drop acid
and wander, psychedelic,
through your neurological pathways
from this day until my very last.
if i could, i would fold this world
like a map to bring me closer to you.
you incite deathless joy
and take away the pain.
your mind is the cathedral
where i finally find god.
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 11:13 AM UTC
(Sea of Roses)
Just standing on top of the world
Looking at life from a different view.
Angelic thoughts natatorial.
Smile radial, open doors
Allowing me to be a watcher,
Sentry.
Encyclopedic arms luscious
A cupola for the desolate eyes
That fray for true love and acceptance.
My ears are split for their voice of
Unanswered dreams.
I swim in their silent cries.
I sleep on a bed of Rose thorns
A young heart with an old soul.
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 5:48 PM UTC