"fluctuation" poems
foundational fluctuation
as flatulence is introduced
that’s right
**** jokes
pppfffrrrttttt
destroying families
undermining relationships
damaging friendships
ending love
breaking the mold
extinguishing the fire
eliminating the excitement
drowning fun
and smelling bad –
pretentious vegetarian
wind walker
kale excretions
cabbage attack
cauliflower bandit
spreading propaganda
and funk
while talking trash
about cigarette smokers –
I could go on for days
making egg comments
referring to the arrival of Eddie’s
big brown shark –
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
I want to apologise.
Broken relationships, I shall eulogise.
To those I know (or, knew);
Forgive my absence when you needed a warm caress and a hug,
But instead got frostbite, a torrent of snow or dew.
I am sorry for drawing a sword
When you were hoping for an olive branch;
I can be as thorny as an all-knowing lord.
I wish my heart was limitless,
And my kindness infinite –
I dream of love that is fearless,
And of joyousness completely exquisite.
Yet, that is not who I am –
I can be a calm ocean or a tempest,
A total commotion, or peacefully at rest.
I can be enigmatic and reserved,
Or, I can be charismatic, if the mood is reversed.
We are not good or bad;
We can be lewd and strikingly mad,
Or cunningly shrewd, or maybe sad.
We are the yin and the yang;
We all tend to sin, to our demons we hang.
We are objects of pure fascination,
In constant fluctuation,
A recalcitrant reconciliation.
So, I will say it one more time –
Look into my eyes, see through my guise.
I apologise to those who had no shoulder to cry on
And sought mine, when I was not there.
I hope you’re fine, and that someone showered you with care.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC
it's inherent ontology, it's not even necessary to process inherited ontology; inherited ontology can be riddled and lost to abstraction like the invention of crosswords as antidote to the drilling-in of the Bible... but inherent ontology? inherent is a tautological invitation to italicise the word ontology - tautology anti synonym - the doubly stressed, point origin secured, but from two adjacent / adjective angles - well, might as well be a compound, the adjacent-adjective, when language meets math and math meets.... d'uh... or simply arithmetic, because that's how it's easily translated, arithmetic is grey people and math the rich... language the poets and grammar the farts.
a shortened critique of pure reason -
a) based on phenomena
(things most likely talked about)
and
b) based of noumenna
(things least likely talked about)....
i.e. a) and the ego implant,
and b) the god implant -
likewise the zealots on either side,
bleep bleep beep r r e r s.... and muslims...
i forgot to mention that Kant forgot
to mention the trigonometric foundations
as justifying owning a villa or whatnot,
the same foundations of having
the implant ego secured and willed
are the same parameters of the
implant god secured and thought
the point being dynamic parallelism,
mid-way between cosine and sine
rigid fluctuation tangents occur,
the ridiculous abbreviations, the p.s., and ibis.;
you're basically born with ego
or you're born with god -
there's no woof woof Pavlov chime chime in between -
ring-a-ding-ding-surprise?
there's no side-winding to create cinema -
being born with ego is explained clearly, coerced
with monetary affairs;
being born with god is explained "clearly", coerced
with murderers, lastly -
no psychological theory will box-me-in
given the lost tribalism and the usage of
the trans-valuation of the synonym of thing -
with money came slang - and all thorough evils,
with slang, synonyms, antonyms, critique of vocab.,
Arizona in the ******* Amazon -
i'm basically saying what Kant said:
god isn't uncool or whatever atheism tends to forget,
it's an implant of functioning, we can't rid it
by argument, and we certainly can't accept it
by prayer - unless we're dumb enough to do either
for worth of understanding tornadoes;
because that's were Seymour Hoffman started for me,
filming Twister.
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 7:29 PM UTC
call it hurricane season
every little fluctuation of the weather
makes my mood change quicker
than the flicker of a flame
my emotions run rampant and free
everything on my mind seeks the thrill of fighting
i’m not afraid of consequences
i hate the works of god and the words of men
i am the eye of my own storm and
the time is coming, the winds are changing
let the sea sweep the world to grey
let the earth bow before me and i will say
"your god is a mere bystander to my chaos
your prayers will remain unanswered
and his words will be left unspoken"
keep in mind, i make no empty promises
i will annihilate you, your people, your lands
destroy your everything with my bare hands
Jun 29, 2021
Jun 29, 2021 at 11:02 PM UTC
lovers forgo their faces
defacing in the act
mammering their information to unreadable smudges
they slur in kinetic fluctuation
experimenting material forms fray
each the others face is vented away
betray being human
no separated being
and then...
to return in the tender moments following
a bumbling landfall
then they are athletes
enamoured and praising of the other
flushed and radiating
having rushed the life from their breath
they heave in its return
Later in a **** trip down to the night kitchen
they forgo they faces in a foxes forage
hers ; over-lit by the fridge light
face thrown into a mask by extreme shaddows
his ; beyond this light in the dark
they are bodies
sneak children
the raider and the lookout
after many years make the familiar relation
her face disappears into a hand mirror
and his is pulled out
into a middle distance beyond the dresser
durred in thought and waiting for 'go'
to the restaurant tonite
or that career social that neither wishes to attend
- fell shy of Eden
Sep 11, 2022
Sep 11, 2022 at 8:48 PM UTC
There's a plethora of albums in my mind
And a good deal weighing on my heart
My brain desires fluctuation
Bipolar fixations based around emotion
And Unicorns with rainbows on blue,
wearable ocean
And everything is a microcosm
seemingly inconsequential
When looked at solely from
the view of entrusting it to You
And all the fear that rides the
coattails of such a decision.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC
No matter how difficult life seems to become at times,
Things always get better.
A heart can be broken and then beating faster than it ever has before in only a few days difference,
And sometimes, that's just life.
There's no set chart of when you'll feel ecstatic and whole,
Or even when you'll feel sad and empty,
But it's a natural fluctuation, and it makes us stronger and into who we are today.
Without it, we would never grow into the people you see staring back at you in the mirror each day.
When you feel like screaming and crying and giving up, just remember that you've gotten through this before,
You can fight through this, and no matter how bad things seem.
There is always a better time and a better place awaiting you at the end of your struggle.
Just don't give up.
Keep fighting, no matter how futile your efforts seem,
No matter how much you want to quit and resign to darkness,
Keep fighting, and never give up.
You can do this; you are strong, you are loved, and you are cared for.
Never stop fighting.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
What shapes do you think of
when you sit under trees?
Blunt corners, forgiving curves-
a fluctuation that never seems to ease.
Do we circle in repetition?
Or is self defeat
a mirage of an inhibition?
The lines sometimes will never touch.
But this lack of closure
does not discount your right
to an ameliorative crutch.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC
The rise and fall of your chest
Is a fluctuation that puts me to rest .
I’m at ease when you breathe .
Your body is a temple
And I’m tempted to yank at every angle
I want to birth sin in this home.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 3:29 PM UTC
Life is all about sorting through endless puzzle pieces
Keeping the ones you find fit
And simply tossing the ones that don't belong
But sometimes it's not always that easy
We get confused and overwhelmed when too many pieces are being thrown at us at once
We might accidentally toss a good piece away not knowing so
Or when a piece doesn't fit
Sometimes we turn and angle it in just about every way possible
Until we finally discover that it just does not go there
And the previous pieces we had in place sometimes shift and become distorted with time
Which makes them change and no longer fit in the places they originally belonged
So life consists of a constant fluctuation between gain and loss
It's just the way it goes
If you can search deep enough and find those rare puzzle pieces that are permanent
Constant figures that don't change
Those are what can help you build the rest of your puzzle
But if you're constantly gaining and losing without any foundation
No permanent pieces
You might as well be running around in circles
But then again
There's not much else to do until you find that foundation you're looking for
Some people run in circles all their lives
Others are lucky and build complete masterpieces of their puzzles
But don't give up looking
Those pieces are out there
It's exhausting and you have to be determined
It's easy to lose yourself when you become so tired that you can't tell the good pieces from the bad
You might start building off the bad
Thinking that you're getting somewhere
And then one day you wake up and all those pieces are gone
And you're left with nothing
And have to start all over from scratch
That's when it gets to it's roughest point
But you have to keep building
Trial and error
You have to learn along the way
Get to know yourself
I know that sounds clichè
But it's true
A lot of people don't know who they are or what they want
If you're one of those people
Play around with a combination of pieces
Fit them together and see what you like
The worst thing you can do is lie to yourself
You'll never get anywhere that way
Lying means you're choosing all the wrong puzzles
Take what you like
Put it together
Be aggressive
Be you
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC
Wash your pants, dry them too.
Silly noise in from the machine?
Only to find it tumbling.
Pluck it and back in your denim pocket.
An infinite abyss of fluctuation.
A cesspool of narcissistic hypocrisy.
A contradiction.
You LOVED the way that pair of size 2's used to fit.
I guess happiness is a jeans and T kind of gal...
And so I remain in this suit, uncomfortable.
But ****
Don't I look sharp?
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 5:40 PM UTC
15 March 2018
09:33 PM
In everything there appears to be a pure crystalline form
Chiseled, clear cut, categorised
Perfectly defined
We're one touch away from knowing everything and nothing all at once
Machines of habit
We're predictable, we're sequences and probabilities on a screen
Craving what we don't have and ignoring that we do
Seeing what's directly in sight and dismissing the depth
Imaging intangible possibilities yet living them through a screen
We know and don't care
We have arduously laboured over assembling a fortress in protection from fluctuation that we have unwittingly forged a cage
Lit by screens
Ruled by 'don't's
Deviation from living to halt death
Abruptly it did come, now slow does it wait
A blessing perhaps but for the dying, a curse
We uncover love so easily, so readily
and yet we lose touch of it so fast, despite our ever growing connections
We have knowledge
We have our memories to scroll through
We have lives to read about
We have inspiration upon every touch
We have it all a second away
Yet we spend our lives whiling away
In situ
Constantly buffering
k.g.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 1:55 PM UTC
Of all things unknown,
easily a non-denumerable infinity, very little will drive a person to the precipice of madness like the insignificance of a statistic - say one in seven billion,
a statistic that unhinges the mind, dragging out primitive insanity, catalyzed by spurned desire,
an insanity that is raw-
raw and sick and hungry-
feeding upon itself like an epidemic, an acid that reduces one's existence to a longing for a hypnopompic eternity, some twisted fascination that becomes an elegy for the ****** one where the past with holds the future, laughing at the heart's bipolar fluctuation between absolute paralysis and pure agony, a grey stillness to a light switch flipped off and on and off and on and off and on and off and on and aren't you tired yet? Are you not chilled by truth's cold whisper, shaken awake by logic's steel grip?
It is a rare prison we build for ourselves-
trapped between what we know and what we wish,
these non-existent walls of unrequited everything,
where melancholia acts as our shackles and we sit in complete silence,
content in our discontent,
because we know,
we know that escape is intangible
when you are both jailer and
captive.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 5:02 AM UTC
There is a fair bit of you in every garden of my life.
Truly, that is nothing extraordinary, you should know it as objectively as I do.
Nevertheless, there is something I’d like to clarify:
When I say "in every garden”,
it is not only in relation to this of now,
this of waiting for you, of hoorah! i found you!, and ****** i lost you!,
and found again, and hopefully stops there.
Nor in regard of you suddenly telling me "I’m going to cry”,
then with a discrete lump in my throat "well go ahead”.
And then a graceful invisible rainfall arrives to assist us,
perhaps the reason the sun rises unhesitatingly right after.
I’m not just referring either
at the day-to-day fluctuation of the stock in our little decisive complicities,
or that I could or believe I can turn my deficiencies to victories,
or of you to bestow upon me the tenderest gift of your most recent despair.
No.
The situation is more serious.
When I state “in every garden” I mean to say that in addition to that sweet cataclysm,
you are also rewriting my childhood,
that age when one utters "grown up” and solemn phrases,
and the solemn grown ups celebrates them,
and conversely, you think of it irrelevant.
What I mean to say is,
you are reassembling my adolescence,
that time when I was an old man full of insecurities,
and contrarily, you know how to extract from there,
my germ of joy and consciously spread it.
What I mean to say is,
you are stirring my youth,
that vain vessel no one took hold of, that proud shade no one got close to,
and you on the other hand knows very well how to shake it
until the autumn leaves start falling
till there is nothing but the flesh of my triumphless truth.
What I mean to say is,
you are grasping my maturity,
that mixture of stupor and experience,
this unknown horizon of fear and certainty,
this relentless faith on my questionable strength.
As you can see, it is serious,
extremely more serious.
Because with these or different words,
I mean to say you are not only,
the dearest girl you are,
but also the splendid and cautious* women that I love and have loved.
Because thanks to you E, I have understood,
(you’d say it was about time, and with reason),
that love, is a beautiful and generous bay, that lightens and darkens as life goes by,
a bay where ships arrive and break away,
they arrive with blossoms and presages,
and they part with krakens and storm clouds.
A beautiful and generous bay where ships set down and then leave,
But E, you, please don’t leave.
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 2:14 AM UTC
Existence an exclusive dragnet
In full production
Operational destruction
Within the dwelling
Mass reduction
Applied obstruction
Void of causation
Internal mutation
Alien nation
Self degradation
On the street
Compartmentalization
Non fluctuation
Auto narration
Nonessential validation
Superseded ideation
While dormant
Comatose automation
Surreal anesthetization
Feeble realization
Pending extermination
Attend the institution
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 1:28 AM UTC
A Touch Makes A Blush
Hug To Make The Heart Rush
When The Body Is On Fluctuation
Its A Romantic Connection
After Ecstasies Vibration
Completes The Soul In Garden Of Eden
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 2:34 PM UTC
Every day is a concussion,
where I feel that
my thoughts are suffering
from blunt force trauma.
Slumped within the confines
of self..
Blood vessels burst in a rainbow
of fluctuation and I think
was it all worth it.
Should I have let that last thought
haemorrhage.
Instead of getting up again and again...
Realising that after the first reaction I should
have stayed down ,Succumbing to the
eventuality.
That I could be what I wanted, what I thought
I could become. I was like a flower,
Dying before it blossomed..
And all that was left
was dead memories
crushed before they could even show
there beauty.
Now just wilted dreams becoming nightmares.
Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 6:35 PM UTC
THE POET AND ITS VERSE
No legion or religion can hold my vision
Any legislative can’t cease my verse
Born free I am a motion
No language or nation can bind my fluctuation.
I am petals of dear flowers
I have fragrant of sweetness
But I lived it for other
For little happiness
And for world peremptoriness
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 6:12 AM UTC
How could I have stripped away the meaning of my words
Their fluctuation patterns and all structure has been blurred
Every time I move my lips I sound still more absurd
But even so this nothingness I speak can't be unheard
Like pools of water drowning out the lives of those around
Pounding on their ear drums a morose syllabic sound
And if they even try to breathe in air that they have found
Their heads will sink into the clouds of what has been unbound
Watch and wait for time reveals the days just one by one
And whether you've said lies or grace, the hour soon will come
When that which needs to disappear and make way for the sun
Will fade like meaning you have lacked by letting loose your tongue
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 3:06 PM UTC
High wisdom holds my wisdom less,
That I, who gaze with temperate eyes
On glorious insufficiencies,
Set light by narrower perfectness.
But thou, that fillest all the room
Of all my love, art reason why
I seem to cast a careless eye
On souls, the lesser lords of doom.
For what wert thou? some novel power
Sprang up for ever at a touch,
And hope could never hope too much,
In watching thee from hour to hour,
Large elements in order brought,
And tracts of calm from tempest made,
And world-wide fluctuation sway'd
In vassal tides that follow'd thought.
1.2k
"Mental Illness"
Do those words excite you?
Look at me
I am a whirlpool of melancholy
I am a drain
I am filled with mania
I am a pulse
An endless flame
Of what **perfect madness**
I am every kind of fluctuation imaginable
"Mental Illness"
But I am so intimately rearranged
Put together in the most unique
And beautiful
And miserable of ways
"Mental Illness"
Ha,
I am so much more than that.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 9:03 PM UTC
it could be a sign;
that the ring
didn't fit easily
on the finger
effort was needed
it had to be forced
or it could
just be temporary
joint effusion
perhaps an unexpected
weight fluctuation
meaning nothing
yet i'll assign significance
to fit the narrative
feed anxieties
and support
a predetermined belief
May 11, 2022
May 11, 2022 at 9:34 AM UTC
My type is flexibility.
My kink is versatility.
I try to draw into my life,
those of the same nature.
However, I find myself
attracting those
with a lot less elasticity.
Is it because they wanna be like me, malleable?
I try to help but there is no fluctuation.
You're so stiff, you just snap.
You give me nothing to work with, nothing willing to be formed.
How can you and I become we,
and we become one,
when you refuse to merge?
May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 11:26 PM UTC
If it would be up to me
I would be facing now
...
Rocks
Cool elegance
formed by the flexuous splash
Wild is the temper belonging
to the change of the impending season
the bleak-dark growing deep inside
A passion higher than the unreaching
tangent of a sharp urge unable to cut
by a smoothing of a creamy surface
Opaque by nature
hiding explosions inside
Bearing mysteries of the swallowed sounds
of seasons
Seasons of all the knowing
Covered by ...as if
the fabric of the unknowing
of the autumn waves
of the sea that grew teardrops
Washed away at once
by a fierce Splash
Shifting the mind
as the slapped face of the shores lamenting
remerge
Covered with its courageous green
A regenerating variant elongating savor
to the nose coloring the mind
by the help of a long Forgotten
rush of the algae unseen
diffusing Joy
drifting the rhythm
of a piano of a Turkish contemporary
unlikely to be heard through this maddening
storm where I am standing tall at the edge
In perfect effortless balance
Saluting the gusting and the turbulent
of all sides encircling to provide
the stillness of a home at hearts
As they used to do
O
My friends
Stay Stay this time!
As if a song
flourishing
the smile inside
As I used to do
gestureless
and they would see
But I will need to cross soon
the horizon approaching
Vertical
I only came to see you
One more time
embrace you
the last time
walk with you
through the bazaars and bridges
Our memories trapped in tidal fluctuation
Spanning generations over the Bosphorous
traces of dolphins patiently carrying
holding on to the edges
of old fishing boats
Wood hardly bearing
these ashes made of stars
Waiting to be born again
by my one look into the water
like the first one
A cry of eternity
and Today
I am heading home already
crossing this place only
where you brewed me to love
in this old drawing of truth
plainly framed
hanging
on this play
for a farewell
Ashes to alight to the sky
sculpting the light of poetic alignment
of you and I
in the eyes of the loving
A deliverance of Enjoyment of the being
Shall be my duty says a passerby carrying
The matchmaker's match for all
Until the final journey
where I shall eternally Stay
Stay this time
but
I am heading home now
I only came here to set you free
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 9:21 AM UTC