"formations" poems
I remember,
My usual nonchalant demeanor going completely bananas in my cubicle of a room
After enlisting to deliver you ice cream.
No, not just any ice cream,
Strawberry with bananas and gummy bears.
I thought it as an awkward combination
But when I got in the car,
The sparrows were flying in two adjacent v-shaped formations.
Slightly puzzled, I pondered if maybe one day I'll meet a sparrow, or anything with enough courage to brave the skies,
Soaring, knowing in time, their wings will tire, and locating a perch is then of importance.
Because life's goal, humans and creatures alike,
Is to find a whisper of a nightingale's song,
Or, possibly, the eccentric taste of a spoonful of their favorite ice cream.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 2:20 AM UTC
Empty skies embrace
Sparse cloud formations
The blues fade and overlapped hues
Sparkles crested in fickle delight
Lazy outstretched yawns of natural light
Sun’s glare glazed under Moon’s appearance
Embossed against the translucence of blue space
Everything up there is calm today
No rush or race or interference
Gentle indifference drifts to the West.
Staying dry for us
The beautiful simplicity of being Sky.
Stop and look around.
Cyclists trickle on painted pathways
Student groups pontificate about life
and the lecture they should all be at,
Lunchtime sprawls and **********
never ending spurts of schoolchildren
delirious for sausage rolls and E numbers.
Everyone in a rush to be someone
Going somewhere with purpose,
and yet,
Be indifferent
to each other.
The bland complexity of being modern People.
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 12:53 PM UTC
lulling comfort of uninterrupted sleep subsides
replaced with an involuntary state of sedation
the emergence of an all too familiar presence
paralyzed by the force of a lingering sensation
choking internalized fear
timeless inaudible cries for help
unknown visitor condemning you to an everlasting silence
physical horror encroached the night
a lone passenger aboard an eternal voyage
bound for relief from this crippling fear of uncontrollable stillness
remaining prisoner to this petrified state
concrete walls of stirring madness
hallucinations of strange alien formations
faceless entities strike infinite fear
in the core foundation of sleep tonight.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
It is easy to think me a fool,
the foolish boy whose foolish dreams
melted his wings and
broke his father’s heart.
What is harder to see:
I knew the math of it all,
remembered the geometry of
wax and feathers
so well I could taste it on my tongue
scraping like cardamom
and sour sweet like tangerines
on the roof of my mouth.
Height and wind speed,
melting points and velocity,
lift and ******
bird wings turned to equations
I held in my heart.
But oh,
to fly is nothing at all like math.
It is nothing at all like diagrams of
birds and insects and cloud formations.
To see the sun, The Sun, oh,
to spread your fingers through it’s warmth
as the air becomes tangible like the sea,
oh, there was no room in this heart for
the coldness of figures,
they were melted long long before my wings.
So judge, though the sky has never loved you
and I will yearn for the sun, The Sun,
oh,
from the bottom of the sea.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 6:02 PM UTC
Your arms and legs are the sky
Full of formations of stars
That used to be clear
When the sun used to shine
But with darkness comes night
And with night comes being alone
Cringing at the sound of silence
So many questions
Now imperfect visions
Of what used to be constellations
Blurred through the telescope
The clocks are backwards turning
Stomach uncomfortably churning
Although it's concerning
That your heart is burning
Those pills mean no returning
From where you're leaning towards going
You can't go down there
Down in the ground
When your body was found
You seemed to have drowned
The thought of it sends you away
Mind now spinning
Like the Milky Way's silky waves
Swirling in a circle down the drain
The color of crimson red
Or down the toilet
Like your last meal
All you have left
Is the darkness
From your fingertips to your toes
And those dark constellations
Sweeping across your arms and legs
Like the night sky
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 9:24 PM UTC
Manitoban Skies
Clouds are the mountains of the prairies
Towering cumulonimbus masses
Incredible backdrops across an otherwise plain blue sky
Warning call that rainstorms may approach
Vertical reminders of atmospheric instability
Jetted upwards into vast formations stretching miles and miles
Promises of unrelenting lighting and thunder
Cinematic sequences is country folk are lucky to view
Humidity in the summer, ah
What would we do without you?
Rolling clouds are a fair trade for the lack of rolling hills
Clouds are the mountains of the prairies.
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 4:56 PM UTC
funhouse of self-reflection,
i indulge in your distraction,
make the best of every one of my heart's contractions,
to scintillate, to shine, to epitomize a refraction
that is all mine.
a start's best contender
to finish, always inclined.
for the heart's say is that gold is always underlined.
glitter of shimmer, of glistening hues.
what creator could produce formations as iridescent as you?
but coruscation of shadows, perpetually anew:
why do you always crack my mirror and skew?
mirror, mirror.
mirror of my mind:
tell me where it is that all my secrets hide?
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 11:17 AM UTC
at the end of the pier
no one is fishing
a couple from Jersey
leans out over the
rail looking down into
the brown swill
rolling under the
weathered boards
The wife remarked
“Belmar's water
is much nicer.”
on the Gulf’s edge
unhappy gulls convene,
plaintively gazing
over gray waves
ebbing at their feet
Brown Pelican crews
fly in long
ordered formations
incessantly circling
in widening rounds
seemingly reluctant to
plunge into the
endless depletion
of this aquatic
dead zone
I speak with a
Jefferson Parish employee
working a shovel
to regrade disturbed sand
boasting a consistency
of moist drying cement
“How did the Gulf oil spill
affect this place?” I ask
“It took evarding.” she said
With a slight Cajun accent,
“dig down a foot or two in da sand
you hit earl. It nevar goes away. Nevar.
“I live down bay side
near forty years.
Had’nt been in de water fer
twenty five. The ******
******** took evarding.
They should go back
to Englund”
She went back to
tilling the sand.
Deepwater Horizon
yet festers a short
forty miles out to sea
is now covered by
an advancing storm
swelling in the Gulf
standing at the end
of the long pier
my hands grasp the
sun bleached lumber
straining my eyes
peering into a
dark avalanche
the serenade
of bird songs
have been replaced
by the motorized drone
of tenders servicing
offshore rigs
sounding
a constant refrain
filling my ears
with a disquieting
seaside symphony
the taste of
light sweet crude
dances on my tongue
the pungent sting
of disbursements
climbs into nostrils
rends my face
prickles my eyes
grandeur is a
conditional state
never permanent
forever temporary
Music Selection:
Cajun Music:
Hippy To-Yo
Grand Isle
2/20/17
jbm
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 5:52 PM UTC
Incubus.
The male demon inside my head
The astral constellation
satellites off the shores of Pluto
a cold crushed diamond
hurtling in hyperspace
sparkling in rotation
silently spoken
the unspoken,
the uttered,
the muttered and the said.
Gas formations spiral
the nebula of new world creations
happening beneath the cobalt sky
the unanswered questions
am I even here
and if so,
why?
Gravity.
Descends me
push and pulls me
the ground holds me
reaching for the stars
just beyond my grasp
Space.
That vacuum
******* the corners of imagination
and the lost voices of childhood
running free in the long grass
of colourful dreams.
In the blur I see you
moving slightly amid plucked strings
and vintage wallpaper
the garden of candles
flickering in the near light.
The incubus of devilment
and stolen words
to yet reveal themselves
the forgotten fragrance
of yesterday's radiance
never forgotten
just a short solar burst away
from Proxima Centauri.
I'll get there,
eventually.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 7:44 AM UTC
It is a vastness of cerulean,
A pool of blue which surrounds clouds that are strewn together.
Tumbling, accumulating, towering formations of remarkable depth and awesome beauty.
Billows which blanket and envelop a sphere of life, turning the almost infinite and indefinite blue to grey,
Massed with the heaviness of forthcoming precipitation.
As time turns, and the big blue planet rotates, sunlight is reflected and refracted by particles unseen—painting swelling clouds with pale yellows that bleed into succulent pinks, deep reds, royal indigo, and then
The flowering violet of conceived night.
The sky portrays a huge entity, a formation of solidity and stability.
It does not contain, nor withhold from the terraces and crevices of the Earth’s surface.
It is as close to infinity as the basic human mind can grasp,
The uttermost extension of one’s realm of existence.
To look up at the stars is an annihilation of Ego,
A humbling reminder of one’s relevance,
Of one’s fragmentation of being,
Of one’s essential insignificance in the immortal turning of the deep and everlasting vibration of the Cosmos.
Stars, barely conceivable at times,
Act as portals to the past spilled carelessly across an inky nighttime sky.
These subtle flecks, minute glimmers of incredible explosions, are billions of light-years away
Across the fabric of space and time.
The sky is an incredible portal to those things outside of mortal grasp,
A manifestation of all that is unknown, yet shared by every state of consciousness.
A familiarity and a comforting reminder of eternity that will exist far beyond the human experience. With its undulating formations, precipitation, protection, and sheer exposure,
It is a paradoxical beauty.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 12:44 AM UTC
Nurture those lovely creatures love breeds..
Two moving liquid eyes,
kept admiring you both
contented, happiness-drunk
-a delicate filigree dragonfly,
when you both were lost,
in the warmth of love,new found,
melting and flowing, together
in the entwined patterns of hearts.
Like a rainbow hued butterfly,a guest
that suddenly appears announcing,
days of warmth, mirth and laughter,
something was flitting like a flash,
around you fluttering it's silver wings,
making you go crazy with desire,
already enamored with each other
beyond even your comprehension!
In the pitch black screen of night sky
fireflies dancing in formations never seen,
reflected in your wondering eyes,
drawing sketches, that look like like electric maps
love create, with accelerated heart beats.
Do you realize what alchemy of hearts makes it
possible for love to transform in such a manner?
Love in it's moments ethereal, clearly reflect,
the true mind of nature, do you care to take note?
Don't ever **** those delicate creatures, that appear,
love in it's deepest yearnings, breeds and keeps.
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 7:39 AM UTC
This One Time,
I stripped naked
and ****** my couch.
This other time
I threw a copy of The Fountainhead
at an RV moving at 64 miles an hour
I have a tree
In the foothills
named Clementine Valencia Jeff
and the same day, me and John
made a religion with Adam based
on cloud formations
You see, I'm a weird guy
I got
I got problems
I see a therapist
Her name's Rhonda
She likes Batmaa aaaaan
She sees people worse than me
but recognizes I got problems
and she
she tries to help
cause
cause I got problems
and the
and the problem
with having problems
is
is function
You
You can't do anything
You live to defy expectation
And - and it's really hard
to get into college
You never really get accepted
and and
and even if
even if you do you
you
you never really accept that
It's hard out there for a freak
I get lost within my own
ridiculous quandaries
You feel like you're not
you're not built right
like something's wrong
and you just punch and
and kick and
and destroy
Whatever feels des-
destroy able because it gives
purpose
Bu
But I finally think I -I
found my mantra
My my
My compass thing
My map whatever
It has the same number of
letters of something very very dear
to me
and
and that holds meaning
I
I wrote it on the back of my door
my door
and- and I sprayed it on a
shirt
I actually got it from a videogame with
with a
with Ayn Randian themes
It's religious
and
and every night now
before I go to sleep
I
I- I look into Neil Patrick Harris's
eyes
feel the warmth of my wonderful blanket
admire some handiwork
read about serial arson
close my eyes and tell myself
She is our Salvation
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 2:05 PM UTC
no, let's not step
into the mud of labels
and stereotypes
and pronouncements and revelations
and fixed descriptions
and prescriptions
and easy categories;
let's step out of that baptism;
let's see instead
fresh and new and clear;
mostly we glide through life
lolly-coated with projections
and consolations
and mental formations
our minds programed from day one
on spinning earth;
let's, instead, if possible,
be still a moment
and see what actually is
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 10:44 AM UTC
renegade memories
relentless effrontery
rogue fractured intruders
a formulable formidable aside inside
man is a modified monkey
a jackdaw in peacock's feathers
contradictions, the multiplicity that is a unity
a patchwork of odds and ends
snips and snails
dreams and delusions
hopes and fears
a mystifying knot of phantasmagoric disquietude
agape in a stupefied bewilderment
as an autistic child swept up in minutiae
inscrutable incongruities
melange of matters beyond explanations
maundering machinates
necessary inventions repeating and reforming
sheltering some aspect of the mind's deforming
'reaction formations' sotto voce instructs the analyst
defending emotions at the personalities bequest
merrily merrily merrily merrily, life is but a dream
psychotherapy is no mere scheme
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 8:04 PM UTC
**Felt the pretense behind closed eyes,
composed vibrations of rhetoric
freelancing in executing ignis fatuus
drank the kool-aid of your own grandeur
a punch drunk conviction's onus
in false pretenses of a mislead head trip
a study in contradiction's convulsions
simmered of half past lucid judgement,
junctures of reality submersed
in cloudy formations
impervious to reasoning**
...a saga written upon piqued skies of indifference
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 10:42 AM UTC
Misguided — we were inseparable, but things
as they do, always with certainty like life itself,
change. These different directions on winding roads
upwards and even edged to cliffs —these dangers
in solemn yet ostentatious affirmations: the I don't
knows paired with the I am sure's. Which?
Between the I love you's and the rarity of these
honest intentions - these naked affections with tears diluted between breaths. Surely, it was true; true as
formations upon mouth tongue cheek in ***** patterns tracing up and down skin, hands to thigh
and then some — yet now.
© A. Leigh
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 11:23 PM UTC
We are the ***** purveyors of other peoples lives
renouncing the living breathing beating heart
in exchange for another photo of craft ale
and home-cooked food with a foot note description
as if it would fill our bellies and sate our hunger.
We are the dark wave tsunami of digital information
waxing lyrical about that holiday in Spanish sunshine
and a rant about car parking attendants and traffic jams
rather than the outstretched palm to jaw caress of realness
instead we line up perspectives of another bottle of wine.
We are the breeders of the optic L'enfant terrible
gorging on the memories of other worlds in 140 characters
snap shots of the life we could have had outside of the screens
the spineless automatons of digitized free love
the could've been, would've been lumbering electronic has-been.
We are the tumultuous storm rising fighting against the unknown power
we unite to save bees and coral reefs
and explore the concepts of actually doing something humanitarian
all we need do is sign the petition before the 11th hour
and be one of the thousand voices saying:
NO. We won't take this any more!
We are the saviours of our time and the rescue merchants of lost dogs
imbibed by Scrabble and Candy Crush weaving the elusive like a band aid
the tapestry of memes and images of cute kitteh's in boxes
chasing the shadows of reality on a stick for kicks
and all the while the moon is out there somewhere shinning her light
glorious silver light etching through the hash tag of cloud formations.
We are no longer what we thought we were. We are each other.
A haemoglobin gelatinous mass of misinformation and forgotten dreams
You are not alone. Even if you wanted to be,
my friend, my sister, my lover, my brother
quoting movies as if it were an inner wisdom speaking in tongues.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 10:01 AM UTC
I am unraveling webs in the scathing sentence of intolerable desire,
A prison of prints and pictures barred by beautiful blondes,
Rigid, icy, spaced by invisible thoughts between them,
Rows hypnotizing one after the other, belly-dancing while they wear their smiles.
They break from their line formations with socket wrenches in their right hands, coaxial cables in their left hands,
And they slink and slide and slowly salsa to my mattress against the wall
As they adjust and tighten their wrenches upon each of my arteries, and feed their coaxial cables into my ears.
Their strawberry perfumes force me to note new appetites in my concrete lungs.
They melt into me, and I melt into them, and we roll into a clay figurine against the plaster wall.
Their hair burns red now, or brunette, or perhaps all the colors of a rainbow of self-inflicted hypocrisy,
And their breath is exhaling like ceilings fans, softly and slowly, out of my lungs,
And I can no longer distinguish which of us is the other anymore, nor do I really want to.
We are a cosmosis;
We are cosmetology unstable, madly desired, and awry,
In an osmosis of imagined consummation.
We are beauty in its ugliest truth.
Eventually, we dissipate, disgusted from transformation,
And I scuttle up the wall, a brown recluse,
And the brunetteblonderedheadsilkskinned keep their cosmosis,
Walking as a ball of arms and legs on six foot-tall toothpicks to separate and reform their bars again.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 3:48 PM UTC
prepare for the high gates to fall.
for the great bowl of us
to submerge under stolen soul waves
& atomic guts.
the seven year tribes; or
fissure of statehoods and broods and brother against brother.
end drenched in whisky blood,
& desperado cheese.
fungus.
[the rebellion kids] with their drums and sling-shots,
get their throats cut in the open street sweet heat
& blitzkrieg.
all first-born hearts plucked
from atop the great pyramid, preserved, and in
frosted time-capsules.
yet the leopards remain healthy.
while cities plunge into putrefaction &/or
radioactive ****
from **** to corner to tomahawk
in skull death note.
beaten back to the parking-lot of a best western;
in the battle of sacramento;
is an ammo-less infantry drummer,
& a bleeding medic.
they laugh and snap morphine tips
in the revelry of their final formations.
moon crescent
slows and all the woods liven with flocks of small children.
they live on plant sugars, wild
mushroom and boiled water.
they hide in caves of ancient etch;
old time-gone man & woman & buffalo.
they hunt owls with homemade crossbows
& cook the meat on holy spits.
grinding the little bones
into tincture rubbed beneath their eyes.
this, to exhume an astral essence.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 4:56 AM UTC
Complexion of free-flowing colors; multitudes one moment; shining formations the next.
Bright the sunlight of high-noon.
Water, how universally eclectic.
And it was thus,
on this laden breeze,
I was brought to the lightest of ease.
What need is there to seek,
When it is all prevalent, here, under the blue of this waterfall.
Streaming pristine mosaics of iridescent green.
Right here, I wish to lay in mirror-glass cure complexions.
Mingling fingers among the pebbles, I marvel.
This quarry of my mind.
Nature at best and mostly green, I guess.
Of this I wish to bring to you,
Or you to it.
Whomever it is that you might be.
A land, however far away.
Happiness, the ultimate goal.
I surely need no intervention, for
The pathless trail lies clear, suitably
Ahead of me.
Bringing power to those obscure;
The life of this beauty –
What isn’t there to love?
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 10:37 PM UTC
A Dream about the River Euphrates.
As far as the eye can see.
Sandy beaches, reeds along the River’s shores, widely stretched out sand coloured rock formations, plain desert grounds.
Lone palm trees rise up just as other vegetation randomly sown, throughout the landscape.
Just one soul behold this beauty.
His sapphire waters gently flow.
Shining brightly with dazzling radiance.
Changing colour into a clear emerald translucency.
The scent of his liquid embrace fills the heart’s desire to Love.
Afloat on Euphrates’ whispering stream.
Warm, soft and smoothly.
Blissfully.
Is it me who is that lost soul?
It seems it is.
It feels that way.
Time, space…. they seem to have vanished , they are just absent.
Just being there together.
Mighty Euphrates, beckoning to enter into his soft waves…
Sensing Euphrates’ sweet caress while the heart unfolds.
His waters softly cuddling.
Feeling his soul –healing powers.
He could drown me, take my life….
But he does not.
Weightlessly floating through his tranquil, bright emerald.
Golden rays of sunlight enter the realm of his translucent flow of life.
As body and soul surrender ….
Unclad as on the first day….
Euphrates’ sweet caress …my soul breaks adrift.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 2:58 PM UTC
Mist clouds forming on my skin
I dye my mind in thin formations
soft sentient siblings aviate my fingers
frost lit prisms projecting visions that I relate to
chromatic distillation fancying the minds eye
dark transient beings no longer apply
dispersing and spilling into stretches of time
Aether, Aether, help me climb.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
Looking through your life
like a fish tank on the wall,
what you come to see
is not what’s seen by all.
Bubbles and formations
lurking in your path,
seeking all the answers
you may come to find that…
Fishy, fishy in the sea
won’t you one day come to me
through all this transparency.
Fishy, fishy in the sea.
Two fish, three fish, blue fish, green fish.
Which one will I be?
Bait the hook and cast the line
while I wait patiently.
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC