"feng" poems
The failed seduction
by drunken discussion
and skunk fueled
consumption, leads to
a compunction dysfunction
suspended in animation
the digital tides
of expulsion
catapult me into a
an eschewing propulsion
and the limitations
of re-imagination.
As far as I was aware
I was imprisoned
in nothing more
than the realms of
Skype and FourSquare
but for the Feng Shui
of trapped energies
and google-mapped memories
adorning the locations
of complacent hallucinations
amid the dark fibre
communications
with a female
of Nordic persuasion.
The compliments and comments
and poems I sent
were lost to the myriad
of random intent
I was attempting to be clever
and metaphysical
she on the other hand
was PHD level
and psychoanalytical
ergo my metrical composition
was utterly lost
in a conversation
on metaphorical reproduction
and the magic and mysteries
of osmosis
and the application
of modification
by transduction.
The moral of this tale
- if indeed there is one -
is if you are going to Skype
with a mentally superior type
do not before hand
have a blistering
smouldering
grass pipe
with a flagon of ale
lest you be a
gibbering earthling
destined to fail.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
look how far we have come, just imagine
where we will go.
Your imagination, is my destination,
so sit back and enjoy the show.
I might not be as talented with as my counterparts- i rather take my time mastering your parts. crossing your lines, exploring your arts. You can take it anyway you like, just let me take over when we get to my favorite part. I've been turning you on from the start, its only right I get you off. lips so soft, my scent doesn't wash off. Making sick love,send you home with a cough. I tried to rank you, but your off the charts. If this was a game, I'd be the King of spades and you would be the black queen of hearts. My favorite part of this, is playing are parts. I dont know, there is still alot to learn. I hate to see you go, but love taking turns watching you *** and go.
writing you these words, i hope the follow you to sleep.Getting wrapped up in my words like I
were your sheets. I am not trying to come at you the wrong way- but you've been on my mind all day. Putting you in all the right positions, my edition of feng shui. Take a mental picture and keep it stored away so when I finally see you, I can do things the right way. If it was up to me, you wouldn't know the difference between night and day. Close the blinds, lock the door, unplug the phone, and lets play; you do, everything, I say.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 10:09 PM UTC
You're just a tiny bit minimalist in your own unique way
a white star I have to squint to see in daytime sky
not a Mercedes five point but a Nissan Micra car
you park neatly in a three point turn by my netsuke
and put a circular dent on my platonic furniture
Your two humble rooms devoid of any bold sculpture
except a fold-out table and a miniature bubble chair
and a futon for a bed which is troublesome to share
you draw the line at adornments but allow a wallflower
A bulb in a bowl is your ornamental garden feature
mealtimes a nibble on grated carrot celery cucumber
you run so long on empty you're an eco friendly teacher
stretching out the energy is a passion of my lover
engaging in lessons on sustaining a resourceful nature
Your shoes two pointe ballet slip ons easy to care
barely there g-string thin cotton underwear
nothing loud to upset your understated figure
slight as a pin drop your bottom's semi-derrière
sits so light on feet I'd swear you float on air
I rarely get to hear you come before you're in my hair
with a voice pitch high as a smitten kitten's purr
your upper reaches get a score sized single 'A'
nice when it fits into our schemes of feng shui
I carry your bundle home on the roadway rivers of light
yet you only burn one ray of candle power at night
born of scintillating atoms which flow along each vein
containing so much love without clutter in your frame
a brave star small as wings formed of minuscule wire
flutters in your eyes with minimal flare
but deep desire
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
Writing you these words, cause I have been thinking about you all day. Love to watch her go; I rather to watch you hours on end, every second of every day. You resolution, is purely evolution - I get so carried away. But unlike those Play stations, you don't take things the wrong way. Your hardware driving me crazy, been on my mind all day. Putting you in all the right positions, my edition of feng shui. Take a mental picture and keep it stored away so when I finally get to see you, take full control, and do things the right way. If it was up to me, you wouldn't know the difference between night and day. Close the blinds, lock the door, unplug the phone, and lets play; you do, everything, I say. Pushing your buttons, cause I love it when you act this way. you are the only thing in this world that does exactly what I say. there for me when I need sum action; after a stressful day. You relieve me so quickly; even if its just a quickie. That's why I will always need you, my Xbox 360.
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 7:39 AM UTC
Shadow of the past,
echo of the future;
dedicated Musician,
a Phonomancer;
and inspired Philosopher,
a Philosomancer.
A Mystic and a Metalhead,
a lifetime Scholar and a self-Teacher;
a determined and self-guided mythic Artist,
a psychologist and an Observer;
I am a Lover, a Father, and a Son,
a homeowner and a Dishwasher,
a Friend and a bit of a stoner,
a social drinker and a fan of quality Spirits;
I am a self-contained Universe
contained within another Universe;
so fractal-esque.
There is much to this being I call "me"
and so little of it is visible
from the surface of my awareness;
so much of it falls within-
within the limitless void;
to be revealed only in Time,
and, to be unraveled by Time.
Discerning, yet reckless,
a wise man and a fool;
I find myself within,
and within myself,
a beautifully chaotic dance
of chaotically diverse energies.
Within:
the Spirit of a Renaissance Man;
Music, Geometry, Cosmology,
Mathematics, Statistics, Physics,
Mythology, Musicology, Psychology,
Masculine, Feminine, Canine, Feline,
Light, Dark, Day, Night, Sun, Moon,
Anthropology, Cooking, Dreams,
*** Love, Lust, and Suffering,
Spirituality, Science, Language,
Contrast, Respect, Individualist,
Intuition, Feeling, Understanding,
Action, Non-Action, Elation,
a bit of a Goth and a Hippie,
a Rocker and a Composer,
Haphazard Attention to Detail,
Conscious, Shadow, Subconscious,
Id, Ego, Super-Ego,
Animal, Human Being.
Alive.
Mortal.
Mortal,
and grateful for it.
An aspiring,
amateur Shaman
who "shows promise";
dabbling in Feng Shui,
the Occult,
T'ai Chi,
the Tao, Zen,
Music,
Art,
and Life;
a dilettante Poet;
I am an ephemeral expression,
a temporary microcosm,
of both the Human Spirit
and the very Universe
in which we occur,
if for but a brief,
beautiful,
fleeting,
moment.
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC
At an airport garden in Hong Kong
I sit and refresh my traveling spirit
amidst an effusion of lucky bamboo
Crepe white and fuchsia orchids
coyly fan their geisha faces
The Morning Sun, at first a pale opal ember
climbing over slumbering, stone-washed
mountains
Roars into brilliance
like a golden Peacock Dragon
strutting through China blue skies
I smile inwardly....
let the moment sweep me off my feet
Breathe in......
colors, sights, sounds
gifts....fullness
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC
What does one gain
from completing the mundane tasks of daily living?
Laundry
Folding
Cleaning
Food prep
Vacuum
Dusting
Windows
Drain
Choose a color scheme for your home
A point of inspiration
"The History of Interior Design"
Choose your Lifestyle
Color your Path
What's the point?
Cable television
The Nuclear Family
Entertaining
The dodging of Lonelihood
Wouldn't you rather be a dolphin?
Dancing by day
And sexing by night
My furniture is coral
My upholstery is seaweed
Feng Shui by Poseidon's Design
Pulp Fiction.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
will the French
please stop stealing words
from Pretty Olde English?
we can’t but fix a secret meeting
and choose a rendezvous
and we discover the French have already
stolen every secret including the word rendezvous!
Oh, the French, when will
they stop this pilfering of English vocabulary?
I buy some trinkets and stuff for my beau
and they tell me my beau has been taken by the French –
and to add insult to injury
(those thieves!)
they’ve stolen all the stuff too!
Oh, there’s no stopping the French.
I can’t even sit to dine and say
“Bon appetit!”
and they steal my words,
and they run off with the dessert…
and would you believe it?
those cunning French,
they even steal the restaurant and its décor!
Oh, the evil French, will they never stop this? -
stealing from fecund English, so simple and innocent…
You see, even the Great Poet John Keats
he starts his poem in English
La Belle Dame sans Merci
and no sooner had he written the title,
the French stole the very words! -
and so ****** off was our Romantic John Keats,
he wrote the poem itself
in what he hoped could never be Frenched!
Ah, the French…would you please stealing
words from our Fair Damsel English….
And the Chindians too!
Chindians?
you know,
the Chinese and the Indians together!
(Yes, it’s a new word,
shows how inventive English is.)
Well, the Chinese have done it with
a smile and a kowtow! –
there you go, while you bow or cringe,
the Chinese steal the kowtow;
and before our very own eyes
today even in our modern world
the Chinese steal words like Dao, Zen, taofu,
chi, and feng shui;
and the Indians, not to be beaten,
and perhaps with a vengeance
to deal a fatal blow to the Raj,
they steal words like: nirvana, pundits, yoga,
juggernaut, pepper and curry
And of course
there are many more tribes and nations
in this merry global **** of Gloriana English
and there’s just nothing Britannia can do about it!
Oh, what’s the world coming to
when our Plain Jane English is molested like this;
and so I do my part
the Dark Knight coming to her rescue -
perhaps this earnest appeal in verse
will touch the hearts of the beasts and dragons
and they’ll keep their claws away
from our Fair Helpless Dame English
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 11:06 PM UTC
By Joseph Childress
Backyard parties
Are more free
Then open houses
No limit power
Sky ceilings
And ground floorings
Flourished
On earth's home
Earth tone colors
And bright flowers
Compliment one another
Feng shui settings
Decorated by nature
Greet guests
And shade neighbors
This lawn is alive
So my backyard is favored
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 7:43 AM UTC
She ran to a land of summer and pink kimonos,
Where nurse sharks circled her ankles
And familiar familial flaws faded to vague memories of leather scented hugs.
She learned to walk dusty streets in bare feet, so she could hold the world in her toes,
Leaving crumpled dollars in the hands of beggars
Who saw her light skin as gold.
The cherry trees bathed her in petals soft enough to erase the scars that faded in the sun,
She learnt to run with her hair down and to eat kneeling at a table,
Rearranged her mind with the art of Feng Shui in an attempt to find a way to live away from the dictatorship of the past,
Collecting porous pebbles and lighting candles encircled in jade,
As old leather scents fade to incense and jasmine.
She strings lost stone on a necklace of wood and measures her life in the breaths to come instead of those she has taken.
Her heartbeat beats irregularly but no longer from fear and now adrenaline is synonymous with exhilaration.
And she holds sand in her palms,
No longer scrabbling to catch it as it falls through her fingers,
She now knows that life occurs between her hand and the ground.
She broke the hourglass because she no longer counts the hours
Or clings to the time that is gone.
She lives eternal and bright,
Clothed in sunlight
And a pink kimono.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
my mother always
used to stress
the importance
of opening my
mirrored closet
doors at night,
so they wouldn't
reflect my night-
mares back at
me;
"it's too much
sadness for
sleeping."
but i never listened,
feng shui being
another silly
pastime or
science fit for
housewives --
how wrong i
was with the
stars, perhaps
i am again
mistaken.
maybe if i had
just kept those
**** doors
open annually,
these putrid
thoughts of
mine would
escape into
the ethers and
fade into non-
existence instead
of polluting my
mind and dying
themselves.
listen to your
mothers.
nothing good
can come of
doing otherwise.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 12:23 PM UTC
Helicopter water ballet
And Charlie's on the grid
Front and centering feng shui
Choreographed in the fields
Where ****** sticks to kids
War is the fashion
That never wears out
Smell its smoke
Sickly sweet and orange
In the early decay of morning
Nov 19, 2019
Nov 19, 2019 at 2:27 PM UTC
We shall not ask for the precious pearl of the Duke of Sui,
nor for the priceless jade disk of Master **
We merely ask for the recent news of our homeland.
The Palace of Spiritual Illumination must be still there,
surrounded by desolation.
What's happened to the stone statues buried deep in the grass,
still guarding the Imperial tombs?
Is it true that our people left behind in the occupied territories
are still planting mulberry trees and hemp?
Is it true that the rear guard of the Barbarians
only patrols the city walls?
This widow's father and grandfather were born in Shantung.
Although they never held high office, their fame spread far and wide.
I remember when they carried on animated discussions
with other scholars by the city gate.
The listeners were so crowded that their sweat fell like rain.
Their offspring crossed the Yangtze River to the South many years ago.
Drifting in the rapids, they mingled with refugees.
I send blood-stained tears to the mountains and rivers of home,
And sprinkle a cup of earth on East Mountain.
I imagine when Your Lordship, His Majesty's envoy, upholding the Imperial spirit,
passes through our two capitals, K'ai Feng and Lo Yang,
Thousands of people would line the streets and present tea and broth
to welcome you....
Announce that the Emperor's heart aches for the suffering people---
they are his own children.
Let them understand that the Will of Heaven remembers all living beings.
Our sagacious Emperor offers his trust which is as brilliant as the sun.
There is no need to negotiate many times after the long chaos of the years.
1.8k
Feng collapsed into the snow,
looking up into the sky and
thinking of lost comrades, all lost
in the war against Russia.
Not far away, Nikolai was doing the same.
Both of them, neither of them
could forget the other’s identity.
Russian.
Chinese.
Feng ran, approaching the Russian border.
The sound of an accordion.
The Chinese man runs faster,
running out of breath,
long, jet black hair hitting his face like little whips
as the Russian snow dried and cracked his lips.
Finally, Feng spots what he is looking for:
a grey coat and a flourish of a red scarf.
Feng calls out. Nikolai turns around.
The accordion falls to the ground
With a soggy thud.
They run together and embrace,
the coldness and the warmth both
Redden Nikolai’s face.
Feng falls, Nikolai catches.
Feng cries.
A wetness on his head.
A summons to look upward.
Nikolai’s… tears?
Will we meet again, Russia?
No, China.
Can we speak again, Russia?
No, China.
The two men release each other and stand tall once again
like soldiers.
Can we forget, China?
No, Russia.
Can we forgive, China?
No, Russia.
Feng stares.
Nikolai stares.
Nikolai’s hard, rough hands, cracked from the cold
reach toward his own neck.
His scarf.
He wrapped the scarf around his friend’s neck.
This is yours now. Remember me.
Feng’s teary eyes said Thank you.
Nikolai stares.
Feng stares.
Red eyes.
Red cheeks.
Both white faces longed for another word.
Finally, a movement.
Feng salutes and smiles to his forbidden friend.
A soldier’s farewell.
Nikolai smiles, but turns away,
Picks up his accordion and begins to play;
play the tune that his friend knows so well,
hoping that he would remember how it goes.
Feng’s cue.
He draws a flute from his sleeve
and begins to play
the tune that his friend knows so well.
They stand with their backs toward each other
and play that one last song together,
Memories of fellow soldiers and deceased friends
their war-torn countries,
how they were forced to hate each other,
their forbidden friendship.
The song ends.
The music stops.
A heavy pause.
Without another look, they walk away,
Enemy soldiers once again
But forever friends.
The snow falls between them,
Nikolai’s black hair thrashing
In the unforgiving Russian gust
That whispers betrayal! Mutiny!
Russia’s scarf cascading down China’s back,
waving goodbye to Russia
and turning China red.
Dec 21, 2010
Dec 21, 2010 at 4:29 PM UTC
From: Life is a ***** Quotes;
"The *** was
so good even the neighbors
had a cigerette"
'Hahaha good one' I said
'and even better yet'
(the *** (souled union) 'with and no one dared'
'lit one up'
'and called it ever after'
'for the inner fire glow'
'merged with thee outer'
'already and forever willing'
'in the truer feng shui'd'
'human endeavor'
'in the tantric'
(say like dow)
'Tao'
(and mean as way)
'of'
'All'
(be)
'Being'
That is love truely expressing itself through oneness with the One Law of Love!!!
The X (factor) is yours and possibility is interdependent upon the X of you!!!
From the Eternal and smokeless fire, Sa Sa Sunny
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 5:08 PM UTC
your snoring is so loud
it sounds like you are feng shui-ing
the furniture in your head
but i love it
see,
i could list all your bad qualities
& the thousand reasons
why i love them
but instead
i wanna catch your flaws
like fireflies in jars
and hide them on a high shelf
so you never
have to
see
them.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
Spirit is a unified field
infinite
in a state of perpetual expansion
seamless bliss
beyond the slings and arrows of creations drama
pain and pleasure
disappointment and gratifications
we live
in the
zim zum
A cauldron
hollowed out
of the the self effulgent light
the source
formless
the theater of creation
a dark space of dynamic geometry
of fractious binary forces
a merciless churn
an atrocity for the evolution of individuation
pistons in motion
a cacophonous feng shui
a tangle of webs
a grand illusion
of energetics
kamikaze planets
hideous cruelties and voluptuous pleasures
a swarm of form
hydras in heat
countless lights casting inestimable shadows
a war between heaven
absolute order
and hell
absolute chaos
our lives
a medium
for the gods of struggle
until our heads a stone
the exit door
is pure spirit
spiritus...breath
breathing made conscious
the big hush
the royal yoga
waiting for the guileless
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 12:10 PM UTC
Original origami
feng shui of the tai chi
Lao Tsi
tao becomes all becomes tao
but for now
all becomes crazy
so funny, circumstances of life
like a silly little jigsaw puzzle citcom
situational irony,
"Oh, let's invite him!"
Oh, let's re-visit a drunken nightmare
too incoherent to say "stop"
thoughts stuck at the back of a throat
let's choke our chakras for a bit
get our green juices and black juices good and mixed up
like a splatter painting
****
I wish
kept it in like a champ
my own personal fault
too bro to be ***
not bro enough to be respected
interjected with comments, admissions
such nice compliments from terrible mouths
I know I can handle my liquor
I handle a lot
with shrugs and smiles
more liquor
just hand over the bottle
show you sometihng real impressive
ever seen a girl go super saiyan?
Humble be thy game
shallow be thy name
gnoming around
oh please, get a grip
even in boarderline unconsciousness
I know you don't find me that intriguing,
that brilliant,
just another girl too nice to hit
too paralyzed to think.
Jul 1, 2012
Jul 1, 2012 at 12:39 AM UTC
I discovered roller coasters for the first time after I saw my therapist
She told me I had
OCD, DID, ADD, and an eating
disorder She told me to keep it simple and
stop trying to please others I told her to set herself
on fire I decide to take my damaged ass to an amusement
park and tell the drive I’m allowed I’m 5’4 You’re a ***** I spit
on him and jump into the car I defy gravity by myself on this tipsy turvy
future mobile I go up and into space and ride through clichés until my overalls
Snap off and set me free where I float without medication Snap out of it, you hairy
**** You never know how it feels to lose control until you’ve lost all control She never
Knew With the giant pebbles and water cascading downwards in a freefall And the terrible
feng shui that parts her massive thighs point my eyes into her pant stain while my entire head
falls down for the bottom A sick endless cycle of torture just like
the Mexican chanting annual melodies
…at a Tucson establishment
…sitting on truck tables at the doctor’s office
…cutting off DNA into style
…fighting off fever with drive by flu shots
So I count to 5
while I
make hot cocoa
And tap the doorway
I try on 4 different pairs of pants
eat an entire bag of Cheetos and
throw up
It’s all situational and relative and ridiculous
I don’t care if some 14 year old wears orange lipstick and
***** off her math teacher
Tell me Doctor what’s the diagnosis for my sick bluish foot
Oh you’re right I guess I do need to vacate the premises
The Land of the Lepers exists and we have renamed it “America”
Mar 11, 2010
Mar 11, 2010 at 10:57 AM UTC
My fiery passion burns for the birds of the sky.
The embracement of men,
and the sensation to fly.
Together we were such happy delights,
the amalgamation of our vows never took flight.
Our servitude for our impending plight,
and thus we were left here at the shore to die.
My thoughts were for you alone, my dear.
But as time traded us off,
we could have never see things clear.
Peradventure, the moon's gaze stares coldly upon me?
Certainly it's frozen tongue has melted you away with his
natural art of feng shui?
A mindless sensation indulged with pride and hatred.
I will strike down the moon and take back what's mine,
and as I did so, it was you who told me the mountain to climb.
And I did.
For you.
There was where I met my end,
a demon manifesting causing myself to bend.
A demolition of sorts mistreated by all of it's cohorts.
I prayed to the gods to see for my redemption,
but all I saw was his deception.
Granted was to me the power of the fire that rests in many.
Pride, justice, and the right of good will be their works,
fear is uncanny.
My light will forever scorch those in darkness.
Yet in this prison I will forever be,
never touch her skin for all eternity.
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 12:29 AM UTC
Capricorn clings to me as per Eastern astrology
Western system puts Libra on different ideology
Feng Shui offers a new interpretation,
but I exist from the day of conception.
28th Jan. 2017
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 10:24 AM UTC
Why big relaxing , they come from small things.
And why do we go incognito as we self flagellate.
with our fix. Or that is the think.
Brown bottle with a safety lid.sublimate that devious Id.
Brown mood killer to get perky.
side effected with herky jerky.
Browns and pastels to quell. Feng shwaaaay?
Big brown eyes are soothing.
Might be better than quay luuuding.
that's a bit dusty.
End of the line self smoothing.
Wino on the tilt. struggles with his back pocket.
cant get a good grip on that brown bottle rocket
trying mightily to take it to the head.
Just trying to brown out and faze out.
solutions are myriad.
But a one trick pony.
Count down to brown......5-4-3........
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 7:30 AM UTC
I love my little Buddha husband
sometimes I watch him as he naps
his face assuming the soft delicate
lines of a child or an angel
asleep on God's *****
I observe him in the garden
through the glass patio door
reflective light of the noonday sun
splashing gold over his bent form
Gently he snips fragrant rose blossoms
arranging a charming feng shui bouquet
for our kitchen counter
Cuddling close and cozy on our
chocolate brown love sofa
as evening casts a starry
love spell
I Thank God for such a
blessed and sacred life and especially
for my little Buddha's delight
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 12:54 PM UTC
i should've listened to my mother
when she was talking to me about omens and premonitions
like how the glass slid off the tabletop that day
and i went out anyway
i should've listened to my mother
when she was talking about lucky numbers and feng shui
like how we met on friday the thirteenth
"mom, you're being cheesy, there's no such thing."
i should've listened to my mother
when she was talking about colours and hell
like how black skies were signs of demons
the ones that aren't quite like the ones in my head.
i should've listened to my mother
when she spoke of trembling hands and death
like how i shouldn't have left an hour earlier that day
because the dishes broke in the sink
and my father decided that wasn't a good enough reason to stay.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC