"floatation" poems
Unlimited essence of floatation
The slow turn of rotation
Flying across the vast stitched multiverse
Extreme wave of beauty, but with a curse
So large, infinite if you will
Though, at float I am, still
Moving towards a planet
Gazing deep within it, I can tell it is stranded
The low gravity warped around my astral shell
Not enough to send me to a dwell
Paralyzed as its beauty is spectacular
The dark, purple atmosphere moves upon deeper into my soul
Absorbing and soaking its cosmic realm, my eyes center towards a trickle of light
A shine calling upon my invite
Invitation towards the 3rd Heaven
Still trapped within the box
The 2nd Heaven
Leaning closer, my aura and the planet's begin to lock
An increase of gravity as it embedded
Embedded a mere astral body on towards a new oasis
The closer I began, I noticed how my eye was so basic
Or was it
Creating barriers, I mustn't
Now upon the barren, desert soil
The dim black and purple formed as crystals
A plant sprouting, as the roots coil
Gazing upon the birth of one's self, a force trickles
Awaken from the deep slumber of meditation
A possibility of an infinite number of myself brings an essence of incredible invasion
Or perhaps, I'm moving forward within my soul
Moving closer towards a reality-based goal
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 11:19 AM UTC
city in the shadow of a mountain
like denver on vacation
shady and deep
flowing down like the river
seeking centre
houses cling to the crags like barnacles
inverted ship cavity
jutting out of the rainforest
paradise of truants and travellers
eternally in transit to islands and misfit fringes, cold floors and warm couches
and displaced ***** enthusiasts
sailors without floatation
treading land and bills and PTA meetings
cast off travellers on their way to golden gates or northern lights
rivers under troubled bridges
fish suffocating underwater
living on the refuse of the nuclear generation
transmuting the lead into sustainable energy
recycling the atmosphere into breathable air
apathetic anarchists return from extremity
living on the dole
or working for the man
we are building something greater than this
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 12:31 PM UTC
Sun sets as the day comes to rest.
just peaking over the hill
it dimly lights the sky
White to pink clouds fill.
dreams of floating on these evening pillows
made of silver lining with no thought of the fall bellow.
On this pink cloud sets the atmosphere
Relaxed layed back
romantic lighting fills my mind here.
Jazz and blues is carried with the winds pushing these clouds.
No worries of fear only beauty to see and hear
But every cloud is different in shape and size
This only the thought of my pink cloud.
everyone has their way to float
What makes you smile and gives you the inspiration.
pink clouds made of temptation.
pink clouds are our own interpritation
whats your pink cloud
If you felt like you were to high to jump wat would be your floatation
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
Having depression is like being thrown into a thrashing, surging ocean,
And you have zero idea how to swim.
Meanwhile, the entire world expects you to keep moving forward,
To keep trying to swim in this thing called life,
Even if you can't swim at all.
But you feel like you're dying.
You're choking on your own breaths.
And every breath is a struggle.
You feel completely stranded and alone.
As waves continue to crash over your head and pummel you with water,
You want to give up the fight, but you have to stay afloat.
Help comes in the form of pills.
They become your floatation device.
You're no longer relying on your own willpower to stay alive.
You're relying on what people say will keep you afloat.
Now at least you won't drown,
But you still don't know how to swim on your own.
Therapy helps teach you how to swim.
Soon you are swimming forward,
All on your own this time.
Or so you thought.
Even with the best therapists and things to keep you afloat...
The waves will still come,
Whether you want them to or not.
Because you have no control over them.
And you still can't swim on your own.
But people still don't understand.
They say that you should be all better.
They think that one bad day means you're relapsing.
You feel ashamed of your bad days,
So you hide them from people because,
Those people just don't understand the hardships of your journey.
You're still trying to learn to swim forward while the crushing waves and blasting currents are going against you.
No wonder you're so exhausted.
Every. Single. Day.
No wonder bad days still come sometimes.
Because some days will come that getting out of bed is hard,
And all you want to do is hide under the blankets.
But you don't, because the world expects you to get out of bed.
So, you get up and take a shower.
You make breakfast for yourself.
You grip onto the radiating warmth of your cup of coffee.
You remind yourself of who you are.
And you remind yourself of how strong you are,
And how strong you can be.
Because bad times might come.
Bad days are going to come.
But you still can't swim on your own.
You still feel like you want to stop moving.
Let yourself drown in the crushing currents of the ocean.
But you can't give up just yet,
Because tomorrow might be better.
Tomorrow there might be moments you want to live for.
Sunsets you want to chase,
People you want to embrace,
Laughs you want to share and tears drops you want to cry.
Memories you want to make,
Conversations you want to have,
Favorite foods you want to savor and places you want to go.
Things you want to try,
Gifts you want to give,
And love you want to find.
But you wouldn't know unless you kept trying to swim.
So you choose to keep trying.
You choose to not give up.
You choose to remember how strong you are,
Because better days will come.
And at one point, on one day, you will learn how to completely swim on your own.
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 10:45 PM UTC
Peel back wax paper
Wedge my nail between two disks
separate; they stick
You see, for me to keep myself afloat in this raging ocean
this roiling, writhing mind of mine
I need something--
A Human Life Safety Floatation Device
why not use a Lifesaver?
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:58 PM UTC
the jingle jangle of those things you dangle
from neck stretched thin with shiny things
call me a magpie
call me a baller
a shot caller
a hip hop drama starter
kicks so fresh they came from the produce section
this flash of blood diamond on my wrist
costs more than the home I don’t have
if I hit the switch I could make that *** drop…
got my obnoxiously huge candy painted cans on my head
so I can only hear the ads I want
and these threads reek with so much swag
the sweat, blood, and tears of little brown and yellow people
I couldn’t give a **** about
dropping three hundred on my mall haul
and they have the nerve to ask me for the rent
sounds system off the hook plasma on the wall
more **** than an abandoned lot
more thoughts forgot than cops in krispy kreme
with a water gun and ski mask for when times get hard
me and my friends are going to blow two months salary
on lap dances and blow job fantasies
“Aint that new track dope?”
“Yeah”
“You heard it?”
“Naw, but they were talking about it on world star”
this floatation device is going to be too heavy
and I am going to drown in all of this fly
fresh to death
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC
This floatation device doesn't work
so well anymore, not now that night
is falling and the chill sets through
my marrow.
Currents were made to drift,
and so they do. In and out
the tides swell like lovers
falling into and out of bed.
All the rocking has made
me dizzy, and the seasickness
and nausea pools in the water
like shark red undercurrents
and skies at dawn.
The rain is usually an indication
that you're entering the eye,
where it is calm for seconds,
fingertips tingling, twitching,
waiting for the explosion
that rips the sails from above
you, and sends you plunging
into an eddy.
And when you are tossed overboard,
watching your ship thrashed between
the waves and weather;
waiting for the searchlights;
don't set off your flare at the first sign,
or you'll lose your S.O.S to the sea.
This floatation device doesn't work
so well anymore, not since you left
with what's left of my wreckage,
and the farther we drift apart,
the more I feel like dying.
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 1:58 AM UTC
Soft shoulders
shoreless summer
out of the sinking
and onto the floatation
hunting for mermaid
while taking islands
along the river's mutiny
blue coda dreamwater
but fire in the organism
the hour is thin
the ice is even thinner
Sep 10, 2022
Sep 10, 2022 at 6:29 PM UTC
seamlessly shifting to future planning
scuttlebutts rebuff fluffernutter sandwiches
for something a little more… sophisticated
grease coated floatation device
slices dried mice precisely
clandestine militants throw rice
at the merger of church and state
hate groups **** on social norms
******* the truck drivers for ****
in rest area bathrooms –
doom laden maidens raid
safe houses set up by underpaid feds
wretched and withdrawn, occupants pant
sweltering heat defeats all who enter
and the centrists flinch as both wings fling scented mud clods –
the gods of old sit on high watching the unfolding drama
three llamas graze peacefully on a Peruvian hillside
tide breaks shake useless dunes
and ruined looms sit broken
reminding the aged
of a non-mechanized life –
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 12:35 PM UTC
Even the words now are pictures, or
fixtures holding light, illuminating oil-stained paintings that darkness had drowned.
Exclusion of meaning was power, but all it destroyed now is found.
Meaning in words forms a tower, buckling with pressure it waves.
I hold my breath as it wobbles, as structure feigns to degrade.
I watch every shaking beam-length tremble then snap under invisible weight of doubt.
Like rays of our sun are your eyes furthermore, their radiance only temporarily put out.
Centuries of planning united, now threaten to sunder apart
the lifetimes we both used to build mortal city, formed with material from our own hearts.
I wanted to be certain I’m seeing what my eyes refuse to believe.
A city felled as a tree, lined by satin and your skin perfumed with dew.
Your three names were “I Love You,” bundled and thrown into a Spring grave.
Before, your mouth directed sailors to a shoreline without destroying their boats,
floatation swept from your eyes left every tired vessel afloat.
But now that your guiding-light is burned out, and our city is flat and deserted,
flotsam washes up on the shore, in the form of your words which I pass onward, evermore.
Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 12:06 AM UTC
I am in need of litmus paper;
A wriggling creature indeterminately featured follows,
It does not sit nor stand no feet nor hands just wriggling waving scribbling in goopy slop, no stops
The smell of burning band-aids trailing in its wake.
Savage monstrous floatation above a tile sea,
Its motions are elegantly sick, delightful barf,
And I think I am thinking I'd like to know what it thinks,
But then, I know I should never truly know.
I am in need of litmus paper.
Is it an acid, base, or an accidental space
Filled, yet out of place, a dogma to my face?
Recurrent in its situation, killed once, but a reactivation?
I am in need of litmus paper.
Somewhere, I find, I am in the trail it leaves behind.
In this sign, I am afraid.
As it situates, conscious or unconsious,
Wriggling along, regurgitating from behind itself over and over again,
Halving itself, then fusing whole again,
It stares ahead, using an invisible force, inward eyes inside a blank face, to its next traversed inch in the slimy tiles.
And I think,
I need litmus paper.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 3:20 PM UTC
It is not a matter of 'you' or 'me'.
When using your heart to truly see
The difference in things and worlds that we dream
Obscuring our true vision of reality.
Solitary thoughts linger on the solitude
Breathing in the essence your presence shifts tides, waxes moons
Reaching out I'm blinded by black light, a dark veil, a celestial hood
Shifting tides
Waxing moons.
Harp strings make hearts sing a melody reciprocating love and light
No hint of betrayal, from mountain tops we hail true love's plight
I become nothing more than a breathy wind in a sail, the sweet laughter of a child; sacred and wild
Whatever is suffered in cruelty, in lust, this gravitational pull was always a losing fight.
The theory of 'you' and 'me' is a false accusation
Our spectrum of existence can't survive without the love we ride on; our own manifestation
When your heart reaches out, mine instinctively does too
To mirror you
There is nothing more holy, nothing more true
Foreheads together, contoured ethereal bodies of limbo floatation
Loving without limitation.
It is 'We' who translate the most ancient of creations
And 'We' who move forward through the fire of temptation.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 2:56 PM UTC
Handfull of flower petals
Bloodstains and twisted metal
Force-fed inebriation
Bright lights, strange floatation
Wanted more No more now
Wanted more No more now
Thoughtless rain falls unending
Thoughtless pain, no pretending
Present tense, future hollow
Here today, lost tomorrow
No more now No more now
No more now No more now
Run free and I'll protect you
I swear I won't neglect you
Run now. They may select you
Run now, they may dissect you
Run from this place of horrors
Labyrynthine corridors
Creatures of four and four
Step through each and every door
Know more now No more now
Know more now No more now
Far from the place of colors
Far from sisters and brothers
Handfull of flower petals
Bouquet of when we settled
First and last day together
Taken away forever
Know more now...
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 3:51 PM UTC
Just like the theory of floatation
You swim in the arms of confusion
You wonder about your situation
As you wander in circulation
Beclouded by so many distractions
With contemplations
You're not sure of your decision
You wanna turn your vision into your future
Yet you lack the concentration
You down in depression
But am here to tell you,put your shoes on
Run the race like its a competition
The key to unlock your vision isn't in the future
You know where it is ??
Its right here ...in your possession
But it ain't gonna get into action
Until it feels your pre-actions
All its waiting for is your reaction
Just like the first law of motion
You'll remain in the same state of situation
Until your dream is acted upon
Then will you make a progression
You've got the passion
But you lack the ignition
With so much composure
You make resolutions
Neglecting the precautions
Cos all you care about is the solution
Looking for shortcuts to your destination
Forgetting that life is a condition
With no permanent situation
,
I know you've got aspirations
But let your imagination
Trigger your inspiration
You were not born to Be in a stagnant position
Its just a stage of probation
Despise the population
You're an exceptional creation
Don't crave for attention
Let your instinction get you your distinction
Its gonna be a hard decision
But I tell you
The decision you make today will determine your position tomorrow
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
We in South Florida pride ourselves on getting hit by hurricanes. We take photos of how bad it is and post it on Instagram with appropriate doomsday event hashtagging.
Riding these things out is like riding a bike.
If you can shop for Black Friday and Christmas every year, you can shop for this. Take pride in your water divination skills and line-standing endurance feats. We are the state of Disneyworld ride lines that wrap around corners in swamp heat, and lines of red light bumper lights on i-95 Monday through Friday: this is another day in the office!
Putting up shutters is like putting up Christmas decorations: we get creative
Like today, we wedged pink and blue floatation noodles against the frames of the windows in arcs resembling a post-storm rainbow. My 2 year old daughter said it was beautiful.
One day of this is someone else's seven months of winter. Remember, people evacuate to here annually! So do not feel bad for fleeing north to them.
The news keeps saying stay calm as they embellish how dangerous this storm ride is going to be like some death stunt on a David Blaine TV special. He went underwater in "Drowned Alive": he didn't drown. He got buried underground: he rose from it. Per the broadcasted hype, the payoff is we won't die!
Here's some good news: you can leave what's out of reach and in the sky to the heavens, and what's in your mind to the steps you took on the ground below: all doors closed, stuff unplugged, things that resemble missiles stashed in closets, flashlights ready like lightsabers to battle this named foe from above. It will hit the worried and unworried just the same, revealing the gas station line cutters from the people who help you with shutters; the faith from the fear of those who choose to pray; the human heart and its varying sizes as it beats faster with the darkening of the sky.
At least we aren't trees: they cannot hide from this revealing event. See how they all remain serene up until the second the wind arrives, leaves rattled only then, roots of varying depths being that which holds them together
either they bend with grace or they break.
Sep 8, 2017
Sep 8, 2017 at 8:23 PM UTC
the rain comes to wash away the sins of yesterday
so that new life might bloom
droplets of water clinging to bare limbs
become paintings of flowers by the morning
and you could use a little rain right about now
head as heavy as your sleepless eyes
stomach as tight as your constantly clenched fists
at night you get lost within the trappings of your mind
a dark maze of funhouse mirror illusions
and you pray for relief
prayers which do not come with answers
so you you search for something to hold on to
just for a little longer
but these solutions are lead weights disguised as floatation devices
and those water wings melt beneath the unforgiving sun
you so tired
you so willing to let go
so willing to be saved by whatever arms may find you
the couch is laughing at you
the TV is egging you on
and that girl who just walked by -
I think her name is nothingness -
looks so **** good
that you are way past the point of seduction
another day goes by only to become weeks
to become months to become years
to become a life of “if only”
do not be fooled by those
who only profess wisdom in times of darkness
these wolves dressed to be lambs
these monsters under your bed
they are not your friends
a match is useless without a strike
and a blazing fire is irrelevant in the absence of cold and darkness
take these times and wear them on your sleeve
let them be the reason you shine so bright
so that you might light up another’s darkness
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
.
*Watch the morning tide
wash them all aside,
my castles by the shore
are gone forever more.*
A billion grains of golden sand,
the remnants of my dreams,
float suspended in the current
and I drift along with them.
They in their watery solution,
me in the spaces of my mind.
Drifting.
The grains of sand sink and fade,
replaced by neon chain linked stars
and the sense of being completely empty,
not at all devoid. Just .. empty.
Drifting.
The floatation tank of loss
clasps the dreams with frigid fingers,
shrieking to be given its toy,
threatening never to open again.
But the Suns call from faraway skies
heralding to opine freedom,
release the fragments to individual broadcasts,
reaching out, out, out to the deep.
An umbilical tether for a fragile boat
is slipped to play adrift in a storm.
Letting go. Letting go.
Watch the morning tide wash them all aside.
Letting go.
*I cast a mind spell,
wish them all farewell,
my castles in the sea
are evermore set free.*
And my mind though now it be thought less
has no need of castles, for it is a fortress.
© Pagan Paul (15/03/20)
Mar 24, 2020
Mar 24, 2020 at 7:35 AM UTC
In the event of a water landing
during the course of your life
your light-heartedness may be used as a floatation device.
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 12:45 AM UTC
Dark clouds and stormy skies
are always hidden behind the sunniest of days
Even the most beautiful weather has a chance of showers, with the possibility of hurricanes
One can never really tell if future skies hold the storm of the century or the most tranquil of seas
Even during the most perfect of days one should bring a rain coat and a floatation device in case beauty does cease.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 12:11 PM UTC
You have a way with capturing my imagination
It builds islands of you, yet forgets to conjure up some device for my floatation
Drowning in a sea of your scent, hair, warmth, finger tips
I forget sometimes when I saw you last, what real life is
Sleep lasts longer, shades drawn upon light
I don't know you anymore in reality,
But in my head our lives have just taken flight
I turned to you one day,
Remarking about something of the mundane
Though your face I could no longer find atop this stolen frame
I tried to conjure your features and move your lifeless limbs
My hands reached for my pick, finding a diary, upon a whim
Flipping through for poems, photos, love songs
Anything you'd be featured in
Slamming the book shut
What was I looking for again?
Upon my awakening I couldn't recall
Any room in my house you'd ever visited at all
In fact, I couldn't remember who you indeed was
It felt as though something was missing
When you're alone it usually does
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 2:15 AM UTC
Drowning in them,
As if one was dropped in the middle,
The middle of the ocean- I call dark blue.
Devoid of any floatation.
Just countless remarks of childish infatuations.
Reminiscing upon them,
Daydreaming of an altered reality.
Reality; one similiar to a minimalist's art gallery
Works of primary colours, and dark shades.
Reflecting on broken promises,
And promises that were never made
Caught up in them,
Body intertweined with miscellaneous veins
Veins found among the greenest of all jungles.
Words of truth, lost in a jungle of lies.
We hide truth that others will despise.
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 9:48 AM UTC
A lot is at stake
Even if it’s a mistake
Sleeping will come anytime soon
Fear not to partake
Let’s join as one
For our senses to be awake
Life needs tasting
Before trash wasting
So, do not decide yet
But dive into the ocean
Mistakes are meant to be created
so our souls can be elevated
as we learn from our devastation
having a revelation
while our emotions
becomes elations
Our body and soul
Decaying fragile
Keep the dreams
On floatation
For sensual stimulation
**To be continued ......
@jobiranyc
Angel-like rain castle
(10/31/2017)
Part 3 of 5**
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 9:41 PM UTC