"fluctuate" poems
Feathers glimmer and shine
As though covered in fish oil
I lubricate the brain
As I slip through the sky
With a frictionless flicker
My lightening wings
Brain waves rapidly fluctuate
Perfect balance held
Between left and right
Each wing a hemisphere
As they beat and beat
Accelerating into hyper speed
80 to a hundred or more
Beats per second
As though injected
With a sonic speed
Synapses bursting and exploding
Exponentially connecting
Blistering wing speed
I become electric
My circuits exploring
Rippling and flickering through paper
My brain comes alive
Flashing multicolored lights
Like the cities nights
But still spaces collect around me
As I am buffered from the world
Perfectly still though standing
On an invisible ledge
I hold my mind in place
While I hum in space
Head down I drop my beak
Into a funnel of concentration
As I tunnel into trumpets
Penetrating deep I flower
In new knowledge
Polar aspects of mind
Released through coherent communication
Set free with coordination
I seek to marry chalk and cheese
As I hold the balance
Between two worlds
Flashing synapses firing
And combusting
Against pointed concentration
My mind juggles two *****
Expanding into their fullness
Expressing vibrant color
My slippery slender beak
Slips and slides in
As I flutter through pages
I discover new unexpected surprises
Problems solved, Startling adventures
And puzzles completed
I find the sugary syrup
The delicate delicious sweet spot
With the thrill of falling domino's
Spilling and cascading
Many ripples fanning out
Through my mind
I find freedom
Each ripple massaging my mind
I am catapulted into outer space
I dance from fact to golden fact
As I am propelled forward on stardust
My momentum shoots me forward
I bounce and bounce
My mind becoming unbounded
I enjoy this great Hummingbird delight
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
Sacred fires burning bright
Purging the flesh of my being
Becoming one with the light
Scorching the cells of my mortal body
4 Illuminate
3 the masses
4 Self-immolate
3 to ashes
1 break
3 conciousness
4 cosmic I lapse
3 death cleanses
8 dissipate into the nether
4 essence of life
3 extinguished
4 the chains that bind
3 relinquished
1 Pain
3 Surging through
4 Serenity
3 Gleaming blaze
I, long to be cosmic,
dissipate into illumination
To, become the nether -
to lapse in lost
consciousness
Then I shoot off in space and time,
soaring through illusions
Light years from reality,
distant pixels
8 Obsessing through the tesseract,
6 scouring past illusions
7 beyond spatiality,
4 distant pixels
Drifting, no sense or feel
Flames of color, figments of my creation
Drift in-to the surreal,
Chasing fractals defragments my cognition
Dreaming in discordance
Life confined in simulation
A glitch in the matrix
Lies conceived through my perception
Breathe
I, long to be spectral,
fluctuate right through this oscilation
To, attain the ether -
planetary
cognizance
Then I shoot off in space and time,
soaring through illusions
Light years from reality,
distant pixels
Obsessing through the tesseract,
scouring past illusions
beyond spatiality,
distant pixels
Drifting, no sense or feel
Flash of colors, figments of my creation
Drift in-to the surreal,
Chasing fractals defragments my cognition
Dreaming in discordance
Life confined in simulation
A glitch in the matrix
Lies conceived through my perception
Breathe
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 5:46 PM UTC
*
The poor get poorer,
The rich get richer.
In some cases it’s a debate
harsh situations Fluctuate
When money speaks, power escalates.
Sometimes…
The poor gets tougher,
The rich gets fragile against danger.
Often times…
Harsh situations make us stronger,
Easy life makes us weaker.
*
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC
meanwhile,
the Big Fat Yellow Bootay
was getting right tired of
waiting for the election to end.
so,
she set off down the highway
going ninety five...
"HOKEEEY POKEEEY!" she cried
as she gunned the engine and
threw herself in gear.
"HOKEEEY POKEEEY! MOTHER *******
twice she cried,
"HOKEEEY POKEEEY! MOTHER *******
this second time
for extra good luck
with the unfolding election.
cool Fall breeze caressed
her yellow metal,
her big fat yellow bootay,
a glorious day to
be out on a drive!
well, except where she had
come from.
beep beep
beep beep
always driving her
beep beep beeping insane!
it shore nuf was quiet
out this way!
she turned the shiny
silver dial to turn on the
radio.
'gonna have to get me
some better speakers
one day soon.' she thought
to her big fat bus self.
and what came out blasting?
"That's Alright Mama,"
by who else?
but the King!
Elvis!
Elvis has left the building
and now,
Elvis is ON THE BUS!
she didn't quite know all
of the words,
but what the ****
she sure could sing!
As the big fat bus
with the big fat bootay
was driving along,
singing joyfully,
she glanced in the rear
view mirrow and what
did she see?
why the ghost of Elvis himself
was sitting right there
right in the back of the bus.
He starts strumming on his
own guitar and singing,
'that's alright mama.."
so she turned off the
radio to listen
to the ghost of
the King,
Elvis,
himself,
singing in the back
of her big fat yellow bootay!
she also watched him eating
a lot of food
in the back of the bus,
her bus.
his ghostly figure
seemed to
fluctuate between fat Elvis,
and skinny Elvis,
like a seesaw.
by and by
says he,
(not the really fat one
but not the really skinny one
neither.)
'I need a pit stop.'
says the King
so the big fat bus,
with the big fat yellow bootay,
asks,
asks she,
'you wanna stop at the next
stop & go,
or
the next
fizz & wizz,
or
my fav if you really
need a constitutional,
the stop & plop?'
at this particular junction in time
this ghostly King,
was in the shape
of Fat Elvis
but very cooly outfitted,
bellbottoms and rhine stones
or were those all diamonds?
note to self,
the big fat bus
squirreled away,
check on that.
are those real or not?
more mulha is always
good
and this just might
be mana from heaven
in the form of Elvis the KING
himself
and maybe just one
of those diamonds
will fall out and
get lost in me.'
mighty strange happenings
going on around here in this
big fat bus
with the big fat yellow bootay.
' the stop and plop little mama,' elvis replied
with that
ohhhh,
soooooo,
divine Elvis drawl
and that darling little
thing he did with his mouth,
but was doing now
as he was sitting there in the
back of HER big fat bus
with HER big fat yellow bootay!
OH MY,
it really is a
HOKEY POKEY day! she sighed.....
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC
I can say I'm sorry
But the truth is that I'm not
When things get dark and starry
You think about what you've got
I've got a lot to love
And a lot left to do
But I've had enough
I just fell out of love with you
When it all got started
I was happy and I was sure
But things fall apart
Things fluctuate and blur
I don't have a reason
And I don't have to explain
I can try to help you
But I don't care about the pain
Have you seen me since?
In a dream or on the street?
And by coincidence
You found someone to meet
I hope it's all good for now
Maybe you'll hate me less and less
And you'll understand somehow
How I avoided a bigger mess
Dec 27, 2015
Dec 27, 2015 at 4:40 PM UTC
You shouldn't kiss guardrails
Because they have chapped lips
And the jagged edges
Will slice your tongue
Whenever you touch them
You shouldn't kiss guardrails
Because metal on metal
Isn't a forgiving sound
But you already know that
From when you had your first kiss
And you were each wearing braces
You shouldn't kiss telephone poles
Because they are sensitive
And will bite your lip with an electric current
But not in the way that you were hoping
And rear view mirrors aren't for decoration
But you never bothered to look at them
When you were desperately switching lanes
And speedometers aren't for your entertainment
But you always enjoyed watching the needle fluctuate
As though your life depended on it
(It did)
And the high beams of oncoming cars
Aren't Christmas lights in restaurant windows
And crashing through the windshields
Won't bring you any closer
To the apple pie the bakery down the street made
That always reminded you of home
And even though you no longer recognize
The town you grew up in
Or the boy you fell in love with
You shouldn't kiss guardrails
Because they might kiss you back
But not in the way that you were hoping.
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
I took a stroll down my childhood lane
These neural pathways took me back
Multilingual versions of the narrative
Warned me of imminent attack
I made it work for me my people
Bedeviled on behalf of all my greater good
I took my time in stride with sidewalks cracked
And broke my swag along a scattered beach
Came down with that viral capacity to fluctuate
According to what gut feeling feeds heart pumping
Where we intersect that jazz bebopper inhabiting art
Draw outside the lines come together in stark contrast
To the words we negotiate with each other in exchange
For favors better left unpaid yet enacted cross-purpose
To our intended lizard goal to wrap our prey entangled
Tongued in the mail entreated globally galactic guardian
I’d simply settle inside ambitious repose armed by you
Draped across our gossamer webs wet commingled faces
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 1:30 AM UTC
When you watch the ocean tide,
Notice the swelling rise.
Then fall back as if to hide,
Only to come again and rise.
Life is such ebb and flow
Life is such come and go.
And mystical things
Suffer tides to bring.
The cold waves
Fluctuate.
My body
Shivers
And ovulates.
To the sound,
From the ground.
Up!
To the sky,
Of ocean tides.
I feel the sea,
Deep within me.
I feel the gel,
Where the heavenly dwell.
I never want to leave
This peace.
The Spirit
Takes me
To the sea,
So I can see,
Life’s story
Life’s glory,
Life’s sadness,
Life’s fleet.
Once I see,
I come to Thee,
I rest in peace,
I chant release.
Ebb and flow,
I love your sea,
Of heavenly beings.
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
As
Boundaries
Create
Distance
Egos
Fluctuate,
Giving
Hollow
Insecurities
Justification,
Killing
Likely
Manifestations,
Nullifying
Our
Purest
Qualities,
Reducing
Satisfactions
That
Usually
Vary,
Welcoming
Xenial
Yin-yang
Zealously
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 10:43 AM UTC
In a world where traumas are written all over our bodies
He has a bipolar jaw line and a suicidal knee cap,
collapsing and shaking
and reverberating his thoughts through his PTSD lip.
It quivers, and she looks away with an autistic eyelid.
See her a deaf cheek?
Their blind foreheads fluctuate, and their arthritic fingers vibrate.
Reynard’s Disease. Or Disorder IV. Perhaps,
one we’ve never heard before consumes the heart that’s about to break.
....
This was read at the University of Kansas in May of 2013: Read more about this event here:
http://shannonathompson.com/2013/05/10/contest-winners-and-poetry-from-my-ku-reading/
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 4:41 PM UTC
I want to paint this on your skin,
what prevents your spirit from trembling.
What makes your flavor fluctuate,
Is there something special I can serve you.
I came to you on two firm legs,
smoothed the covers, and lifted you from that bed.
You came with full breaths
Palefire, and unblended acceptance.
My frown will not speak of you,
but your pride steals the covers.
With a hurricane in your chest
, and a sadness that rips me to death.
I just realized my folly, five seconds after
Touching my finger to a false heart.
Took your polished please, without giving a thank you.
Brilliant resplendence of your redolent virtue.
Arms clenched, a wool sweater, bitter.
Leisurely cassette tapes, guide down to the truth.
The airy pleasures I have grasped at the heights
Match not the singular joy, in the cup of coffee in the garden
Of shredded roses, and bone carvings.
Favoritism, lies in the past, and it won't change.
What has been done, trumps what shall be done.
You won already. All I ask, is you guide me.
My hands and wrists, like leaders,
Gently wrapped around your skull,
So I can cradle that delicately invincible brain,
Mending skin and hair with perfection.
And this? This I will carve into the table that you took away
from loving me.
My love for you mirrors your footprints, into the infinity of oblivion.
.
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 7:20 AM UTC
Last summer, you were sporting short shorts, a tank top, flip flops, and a smile so big it took up half your face. You used to frolic about the beach with your best friends, pushing each other around and teasing each other about the boys with tousled hair and dreamy eyes. You were happy then. Your hair wasn't an issue, nobody made remarks about the blackness of your skin, and you got along with everybody.
You heard so much about high school, and were more than excited to push past the doors to your supposed freedom. The first few days weren't too bad, until you realized that you had nobody to giggle and whisper with. All around you were beautiful girls with tan skin and blonde hair--so different from your brown skin and braids. And when you stood beside the girls with dazzling eyes and bright smiles, you couldn't help but feel inferior. When you became aware of their narrow waists and thin legs, you began pinching at your stomach and ******* in--trying to be just like them.
Just last year, you were the most outspoken girl in your whole class. Suddenly, your voice has gotten lost somewhere in your throat. Your anxieties fluctuate, and your stress increases. But you find
comfort in the contents of your fridge and sub-consciously begin eating and eating and eating until you feel satisfied. Here you are, undressed, standing before the mirror, staring at the number that has appeared on the scale in disgust. Nobody will ever love me, you think to yourself, as you point out all your flaws.
Your mother throws dresses your way, but you refuse to wear them. Some girls offer invitations to parties, but you decline. Why? Because you feel too unattractive for anyone. You feel undeserving of any love or inclusivity whatsoever. The old you is gone. Your confidence has evaporated and your self-esteem has disappeared.
It's strange how much someone can change over the course of one year.
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 12:22 AM UTC
Humble beginnings
To the bitter ends
Frantic boot heels
Optical illusions
The **** of a joke
Last but not least
Whatsoever
Then again
Telegram a trigger word
Dangle from an umbilical chord
Eat the placenta
As the deadlines fluctuate
And the ambivalence
Is sealed in a canopic jar
It's experimental
Mental experiences
It's elemental
exemplary mentality
It's explicit
To solicit
The illicit
And go ballistic
-Tommy Johnson
They're so generous
To call me and my work sui generis
I'm just inter-being
To learn from ignorance
By my own volition
To achieve total consciousness
"Of all the nerve you sure got a lot of some of it"
Coming from oblivion
Ideas composing
The appreciation
Imagination turn into materialization
Expand and contract
The sensation of feeling
We crave and we cling
Becoming, we're born
A phase, we age
Sickness and death
Cessation, ratify or deny
Die gratified
These are the type of things we discussed in the Agora, all those times ago
-Tommy Johnson
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 6:55 PM UTC
Sacred fires burning bright
Purging the flesh of my being
Becoming one with the light
Scorching the cells of my mortal body
lluminate
The masses
Self-immolate
To ashes
Break,
Conciousness
Cosmic I lapse -
Death cleanses;
Dissipate into the nether
Essence of life
Extinguished
The chains that bind
Relinquished
Pain ~
Surging through
Serenity;
Gleaming blaze
Then I shoot off in space and time,
soaring through illusions
Light years from reality,
Distant pixels
Obsessing through the tesseract,
Scouring past illusions
Beyond spatiality,
Distant pixels
Drifting, no sense or feel
Flames of color,
figments of my creation
Drift in to the surreal;
Chasing fractals,
defragments my cognition
Dreaming in discordance
Life confined in simulation
A glitch in the matrix~
Lies conceived
through my perception;
Breathe
I, long to be spectral,
fluctuate right through this oscilation
To, obtain the ether -
Planetary cognizance
Then I shoot off in space and time,
soaring through illusions
Light years from reality,
distant pixels
Obsessing through the tesseract,
Scouring past illusions
beyond spatiality,
distant pixels
Drifting, no sense or feel
Flames of color,
figments of my creation
Drift in to the surreal;
Chasing fractals,
defragments my cognition
Dreaming in discordance
Life confined in simulation
A glitch in the matrix~
Lies conceived
through my perception;
Breathe
Dec 19, 2018
Dec 19, 2018 at 1:02 AM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, this is my revival:p
this time I fluctuate
I breathe annihilation
what got rid of me I got rid of liberation
the hurt carried on the pearl as seen before
makes me moon the past a perfect doom not ignore
more I find reckless but in good tenders
bile arisen comes to a chocolate cake remembers
something for me for once and all
the apart rejoined from the great unregretted fall
said suffer time on the twentieth last of year
a June not ought for my happiness not dear
not a remnant
since then but not worth the resentment
other than a rapid eye above buried graves
let be dreaded for my save
mentioned a one to hurt one to dream
a revival knows the uniqueness that beams
now one to petty one to go
one to memory one to soon
my compass is to be found in dune
-----ravenfeels
Jun 1, 2021
Jun 1, 2021 at 5:22 PM UTC
So there’s a girl across the street
A girl to whom he’s grown accrete
A girl he’s just to scared to greet
But yet still he sits and hopes
You see she’s in love with Darren
However Darren’s in love with Karen
And Karen sits and stares at Bob, who’s probably gay, probably not,
But still he drools over Linda,
Who’s stare is blank and barren,
Pointed at the anti-nerd, football loving, guru Darren.
Yes it’s really that simple,
Forget love triangle, more love enneadecagon,
Gone,
That reminds him, as it hits his head like a hadron,
Gone,
Are his hopes of him and the girl across the street.
Her features to him, were long developed similes,
They came to his brain, seamlessly, chemically,
Of course he’s never express these feelings formally,
But to him they acted as a soothing love remedy.
Her eyes were golden like caramelised sugar,
Or the enticing qualities of slowly melting butter,
Each eye, a galaxy waiting to be discovered,
And yes he means the chocolate bar.
Her hair is crimson like strawberry laces,
Which reminds him of the disadvantages of having braces,
But he braces himself as though it’s his duty,
Braces himself for an overwhelming amount of beauty.
She talks to him about all the awful things that guys do,
She then says she wishes that more guys were like you,
She says she wants that guy to show up this year,
But what she doesn’t see, is that that he’s standing right here.
So there’s a guy across the street
A guy to whom she’s grown accrete
A guy she’s just to scared to greet
But yet still she sits and hopes
You see he’s in love with her neighbour,
A chore that she knows can be a labour,
Yet she knows she can be the saviour,
Because she is even greater
So one day to no surprise, he’s looking out with eager eyes, they lock eyes, butterflies, quite surprised, more butterflies, they remain like that til sunrise, emotions start to normalise, then fluctuate because of those **** butterflies.
So there’s a girl across the street
A girl to whom he’s grown accrete
A girl he wasn’t scared to meet
And now they live and bond
Because that girls in love with Darren,
However Darren’s in love with Karen,
But who cares,
They have each other for the rest of their days
And beyond.
Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 10:57 AM UTC
so i took liberty's with my lockpick and freud's diary
and went in search of the reasons for dry thunder
and for pictures of the rain locked away in some peoples eyes
some hearts are waterlogged silent forests
grey clinging to the wet pine needles
some are deserts of the twilight
like dust gathering at the least disturbed path
their hearts are heavy with dry weight
i found her in the cold light of candles
mapping the unknown with her thin hand
her perfections chiseled softly into all of my senses
like a michelangelo paint by number sweet summer dream
her immediate and urgent presence on the night air
makes me breath in deep and feel to the bottom of my feet
that she is tenderness personified
she is light perfected
she is fresh off the pages of some steinbeck novella
she just has a grace that gives
she is in love with its concept and rumor
with lockpick in hand and the image of
old man freud smoking something funny in his pipe
traveled through this place with an eye to the depths
a girl out there provides a sultry version of hopes in a song
from within her place of televisions flickers
as i sit by the window shade as it stirs to life
approaching rain
the lockpick also comes to life
as the complexity's of a strangers smile
fluctuate in the eye
a grain of sand lodged in the crawlspaces of the mind
grinding in the gears of thought
the song drifts to an end
with her smile
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
Eyes tightly shut, I count to a safe number and turn the switch
On
Off
On
Off
On
On?
On is where my demons lie,
where the obsessive
counting , swallowing and numbers
clutch at me.
Where I see darkness even when my eyes are
open,
where being awake is no consolation.
All my scars are exposed, my anxiety evaluated and
my fear is exposed.
Off?
I'm no longer me.
The material is ironed out, I fluctuate and bend.
I am false.
I make sounds which are not my own,
forget myself.
I forget to clutch at you.
You're amongst my demons,
often
you are my demons.
And there lie my choices,
if choice even exists
at all.
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 2:17 PM UTC
This world:
The fluctuate
"what if's"
grinding
away from
our minds
opinions clash
the truth is concealed
Flash
The truth is revealed
photos don't lie
click
the lies are concealed
photos don't lie
the perpetual hot water
This world:
Lies are the new truths
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 4:11 PM UTC
Masking the noise from the Hells below,
leaving me a new chapter to unfold
well my heart is crashing against my window pain
deadly weapons used to mutilate
down for my bloodshot eyes it rains
in my distorted reality
my soul raises up and down rapidly
my future races around the room
pasting through are deadly thoughts and fumes
of distorted people in animal costumes
I scream out for help
but not a woman nor man can hear
no longer I can't bear
the mutilated people I see and hear
I would ignore but they always reappear
right beside me in my ear
my "friends" fluctuate like a hologram
they come swing like wrecking *****
using ancient methods to destroy all
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 11:22 AM UTC
Life seems to be measured best in approximates currently.
I have a difficult time explaining that I am
fine, sad, good, grieving, angry, or relieved.
Approximate values, however, can be assigned to the various feelings.
Approximating allows me to change. To fluctuate.
To estimate something that may change at a later time.
This works because I am nearly every conflicting feeling
all rolled into one.
Conflicted is perhaps the only feeling that is consistent.
Conflicted is my stalwart feeling.
My rock.
It is always there.
No matter what.
I love him. I hate him.
I need him. I do not want him.
I trust him. He hurts me.
conflict. Conflict. CONFLICT.
No matter how you shape it, spell it, or write it; it is there.
Chances are, it is him. In my gut I feel it.
And from that feeling I know that death
is the worst feeling a stomach can own.
With each moment of decay,
that rotting feeling in my own body grows.
His decay is my decay.
I cannot eat, drink, or sleep.
I am terrified that in my sleep
I will not wake up and in that time we will meet.
More alive than ever before; he is in my nightmares.
His flesh makes my own creep with fear.
He is touching me, I feel his hands.
They are in my sleep and reaching towards me.
Once awake I am sad.
And I am guilty.
I survived and I fear I did not do enough to save him.
I did not make him a better father.
A better husband.
Nor a better human.
That one more chance I withhold.
Buried beneath my fears, his chance will die.
Could I have done something more?
Loved him better?
Loved him differently?
Hated him completely?
My head and my heart are conflicted.
And my memories are conflicted too.
*I remember the man who bought me a treasured doll.
I remember the man who brought me ice cream home from the store.
I remember a man that patted me on the head.
I remember the man who gave me my love of reading.
I remember the man who gave me my first dog.*
And then...
**I remember that same man who destroyed my favorite doll.
Who starved me for doing wrong.
Who brutally ***** me.
Who tore up my favorite books.
Who killed my beloved dog.**
***And then I am conflicted.
And I hurt.***
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
the thing with feelings
(especially mine)
is
they are always fluctuating.
i need you, i hate you.
i want you, i despise you.
never the same, never consistent.
but,
what i feel for you
is more than a thought,
a desire,
a feeling.
i love you
and that will never change,
never fluctuate,
never disappear.
know this:
i love you
as a verb
not a feeling.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 12:09 AM UTC
Some lights clouded
Some are bright
Some glow dim
Some fearfully hide
Some are mesmerizing
Some feel tender
Some seem blinding
Some are lost
Some now finding
Some fluctuate
Others remain wholesome
Yet All are still the same light
Light in different forms shining.
- 2:27 pm Aug 12th 2018.
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 2:30 PM UTC
To describe the magnitude
of this awe
uncomfortable with what i saw
the density of time inside my chest
compressed and heavy
looking for rest....
I don't like the winter, because there are no flowers.
I became far too accustomed to the strange equations of words and images
that form within the ways i think and breath and am
because in doing so i forget about the ways
you think and breath and are.
im sorry.
the mood is not one for generalization
i stress not to classify, or make distinctions
and as such
my thoughts drip and fluctuate
ripe with frustration
they are ready to fall golden and fat from the tree
Leigh is a brief glimpse into the fantastic
she lives among clouds and unicorns.
Can't we all do good from thinking deeply for a little while?
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 11:13 AM UTC