"fusions" poems
Focus drawn from the wrong conclusions
Leads you away from life's institutions
Emotions and feelings gets lost in fusions
Of desperation and regretful grief retributions
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 9:42 AM UTC
~~
She rolls down the western edge
The bucolic Spiral path
Coincides with the horizon
Gray foot print
Slowly mingles with dark
As the Bats of evening find back to home
Gentle Breeze to dangle
Purple haze of Four O'clock
The Crossroads, Wait behind
Where to start, or what end is!
Poetry continuing as the falls of pain
Afternoon's Lyrics said good bye
Today's bright Star does not rise
What they chase during the run out!
Why come back again
Along with the known way!
Moonlit falls on the ways of Standing hill
Beyond the horizon
Dark fading, while
Lost love fusions with her colors
Across the Monsoon, Autumn, Winter
Finally the Spring is on the way
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 1:34 PM UTC
Embodiment.
Its language. Listen.
It’s the dance of our devotion.
Open your emotion.
To honour this temple that houses the spirit of all madness,
wild women, roaring chaos.
As the feminine I release all guilt and shame...
Owning my sexuality. Owning my truth.
And taking back, the body as Mine.
I’m not here to be a pleaser in anyway, how utterly boring.
I take back my power, and I don’t only stand in my power,
but I Stomp the streets of chaos in defeat.. empowered..
i Soar the skies of the infinite eyes... empowered.
By the knowingness that I am free, in my body.
I will not allow, the media, the conditionings that are so stuck in their solidity, without any motion, their consciousness is stagnant and I say **** THAT.
Bring the sacred waters back,
and let the blood of bones wash over you..
as you remember the ancient essence of what is it to be Primitive,
free in the Body.
I’ll dance for you, Naked darling.
I hope you turn the lights on, and see yourself.
In remembrance. Visible.
Free in the Body.
I hope you Rip off the layers when you get angry or sad,
and let the healing of your body, make you deliciously Mad.
Scream, and remember it’s all a dream.
The sizzling fire within you is the source of illuminating,
this essence so bright will **** all your frights.
Simply burning the layers of illusions,
So you may meet yourself as the fractal of fusions
Take it all off,
And see what you are made of.
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 8:56 AM UTC
Sing me songs of farewell
This red shaded dawn,
Recite me lines about unknown -
Please, recite them well.
Let your tongue disguise the words,
Make them look fair
While I'm statued in life's ropes
Tied to this porcelain cold chair.
Speak loud, stand proud -
Then look at me straight.
Let your shadow strangle my neck,
Bathed in my acid tears around.
It's neither's fault, you say...
Only this mischievious cicle
A clueless timed canvas,
That lead you feel this way.
I can't scream, can't defend.
I only let the ending end.
Take your promises back,
Take your tender looks too,
Burn each of one's illusions,
******* their ashes, take them with you.
Don't leave me your apologies,
Your blured confusions...
Just leave me here,
In eternity's fusions
Drowned in a heart attack.
The years have passed away.
My hands still tremble, mildly.
Wrapped in pottery shards and blindly
This disease have rot me inside
It's what they say...
In fact, I died at the bottom of the sea.
The cure is simple and hopeless to me.
Give me a pill of amnesia
And my five o'clock tea.
Feb 18, 2011
Feb 18, 2011 at 12:33 PM UTC
I poeticize, proselytize
Punctuate and pontificate.
I write couplets and rhymes
And I really do it all the time.
I exacerbate and exaggerate
With no desire to intimidate.
I make similes and metaphors
Indoors and even out of doors.
There’s cussing and discussion
And sharp literary impressions
Through diversions, conversions
Allusions as well as conclusions.
And with luck, no delusions.
Just syllabically deft fusions
Of some deferential references
With a deft touch of reverence.
I rhyme thyme with fresh lime
And cardamom with cinnamon.
Sweetbreads and shortbreads.
Chicken bones and licking scones.
Rhyming pumpkins with dumplings
And matching up filets with filberts
Just as cocoa goes well with Kona.
Marmalade can be a good marinade.
I rhyme chrome wheels and automobiles,
Freeway off-ramps and Tiffany lamps.
Cellophane and vintage airplanes.
Flapper vamps and streetwalking tramps.
Also Cinderella coaches and cockroaches,
Nothing is unfair game to a busy poet.
As well as RCA Victors and boa constrictors.
Since I’m a poet, everyone should know it.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 5:22 AM UTC
She severed the head of love's complacency
covering all I thought I'd discovered with a vice
like grip on a puzzling figuring out of normalcy
refusing any defining by turning pose in a trice
into fusions of fiery burns of my assumptions
until she was nowhere but there at every turn
churning the pressure with neat beats of passions
with valves registering a blistering alarm
a companion unhinged by dimensions dark tinged
not a snake charming woman nor a venomous fang
yet poison was taken with a cringe and a change
into a Hyde or a Jekyll I cannot decide things
When my grasps fall between all her parts half revealed
I gasp out of hunger pang eagerness to feel
slender slinking through fingers and thumbs unsolved
as a friend or a foe I can't know if she's real
Beyond physical perception I cannot be certain
because of fantastical attractions in legion
gone viral in tongues insubstantial past vision
yet assembled in ways which portend a contagion
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 12:53 PM UTC
~~
my world, my womb
unconditioned but air conditioned
too many frequencies make fusions
many more intuitions gathered a lot intentions
grew great confusions
my womb, my world
the ultimate heaven that proven the sense of love
that belongs spring that sprung
my mother's face
that certainly traced a weird tune which grew red rashes,
scratches on my mother lower abdomen
I'm just eight months old
and my skin getting cold,
Even I could not told to my mother what I gather in the womb
If I make the images zoom and
if somehow her rose will bloom
which only gain,
a huge pain that could not share or even bare
the world that never care
to my mother
where there is my womb, my world
and I'm only eight months old,
getting cold,
too cold...
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
I Whispered Into the sweet essence of her night and she breathed a sound that had no words
but needed non. You see, we were in full flight now. Could there be anything more exquisite.
More sensual, more urgent more animal,more human. No.
Wait. Savor this, close your eyes my love and help me make this last.
My lord. My sweet, I feel every fiber of you now wrapped around me but slow.
Ecstasy is an empty word now I must find another. No slow. I feel your need but slow.
Your body.Your warm. Your slick. your smell. Your taste but slow.
Your every sweet utterance takes me further.
I taste the sweat that shimmers in moon lit night below your upturned chin as you grin the
grimace with teeth bared and eyes shut tightly. Now they shine brightly as you bore into
my very soul about to lose control. Hips roll in rhythmic urgency.
The pulsing tempo in the hollow of your neck. It glistens. I must know more. But slow.
The crescendo will wait all the more reckless as it crashes and roars for now we swoop and soar
Then skim across the vast. We levitate. We gyrate. Hold me close now let me go and turn your love
around now slow. This feeling that envelops me my love. It holds me gently formed and warm it burns
as the tempo rises . The rhythm unbroken like sweet music. Sweet music is the maestro.
I pray to stay in fusions grasp till wretched breath and pounding heart leads us fall away in
the after. The reclamation of senses . The glow. I want you more. again. again. again.
I feel you shudder, you skin flutters in anticipation but senses are bare and heart still seeking balance.
I hear the gentle beating as I lay spent my ear pressed against your gentleness.
Please if I must die at some future date why not now for
I will never know a moment past this so pure and joyful
It is impossible that living further will afford me more.
My darling .
Again my sweet.
On satin sheets.
Again.
Again. Here I go
Again.
.
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 12:06 PM UTC
Going with the flow
Yet you do not know
That the flow goes all directions
The natural lines that blind your mind
These barriers of glass
Create channels, rivers, currents
Patterns
Where the water
The flow
Simply goes
When you are always in the rapids
When your point of view is rabid
Only reacting
Not responding
So swept up in the current
You flail, flounder, following
Helplessly
Yet little do you know
The flow goes all directions
You are never alone
You are a node
You are the ocean
Not a current
You are everything
You’re worth it
You are the moment
You are worship
You are attention pointed out
Barriers are but illusions
Your life is lilting, tilting fusions
But becoming the ocean is not always easy
It’s massive, the motion makes us queasy
Most of the time we are in our own streams
Funneled by barriers as real as our dreams
But funneled nonetheless
Carried away
The process of growth
Is slowly raising yourself out of the stream
Slowly
Gradually
Adding moments of response
Instead of reaction
In that act
We find branches
In the stream
And therefore choice
We can paddle
Change our course
The world opens up
We are not the ocean yet
But on our way
As you lift yourself higher
Out of the stream
You do begin to see
The flow goes all directions
Flowing into the sea
Not only are you the ocean
But you are every stream
You float above this aquatic landscape
Coursing rivers like veins across the living earth
And, here is the magical part:
You can choose where to swim
You dive in
Headfirst
You are birthed
This is divinity
Infinity
Each moment of consciousness
A fateful flux
Between ocean and stream
Between finite and infinite
The macrocosm above
The microcosm below
The cosm in between
You are
Here
Now
The barrier between the mundane and the divine
The band of fluctuation
You are the frame
In which
This artwork unfolds
That is what happens when you can choose
When you lift out of the stream
On one level, you choose the next moment
On another level, you choose any of the infinite realities that your mind can imagine
On yet another, you are consciousness, the great ocean of light
Choosing which point to dive into the universe
Which river to course through
To enter a life of conscious experience
To sing the body electric
Be born and live and die
Be born
Live
Die
From ocean to stream and ocean again
The stream will be your entire experience
While you are underwater
But never forget:
This is Water
David Foster
This is Wallace
Meditation is learning how to swim
To realize this is water
And dryness is within
Then you learn to rise
Float above the water
Ascend
Transcend
Fly
So high
Then choose your stream
Dive in
Up and down
In and out
Like a dolphin merrily moving through the ocean
A smiling sine wave
Flowing seamlessly, dreamily
No wonder they are smiling
As free as one can be
They are the ocean and the stream
A realization that is probably easy
When one is born under the sea
We are the water in the stream
And the sea
Stretching across infinity
We are the force flowing through the tree
Splitting, branching
Diverging from the whole
But connected at the soul
In actuality
We are fractality
Aug 30, 2020
Aug 30, 2020 at 12:23 PM UTC
There are one-hundred-and-seven-point-eight pounds of what I’m pretty sure could destroy you, if it really wanted to (and It does. It does). Because I know you don’t remember the magic like I do, of when my neck first stretched itself so that I could reach those newly-licked lips beneath the cataclysmic explosions in the sky above our heads – and it was we who were those fissions and fusions erupting in the night. Eruptions so cacophonic to me and yet to everyone else they were so silent… unnoticed. Perhaps they were to you as well, for you seem to have forgotten. And now I do **** thee – your amnesiatic self and she – to take this cross from off my spine and find a hillside on which to burn (and do not doubt that the flaming match will be flung from my very own fingers). And may your skin seethe in the hell you tossed me into with your lies and fickle promises and your strange interpretation of what love may be (is this what your sweet mother taught you?). You were right when you said that love was in the fire shooting through the sky that night, and yet the only remainders are the fallen cinders resting in my hair today. So here and now, my love, I grant you the distance that you so desperately needed to give reason to your pitiful excuse to break my heart. For you I will build a boat out of fallen trees, and it will take me so far away (if only in my brain). And I will sail away as you turn to ashen residue, and smile, for the sky will be marked by a peculiar clarity.
Aug 22, 2010
Aug 22, 2010 at 5:37 PM UTC
The "I" in Pride
Should fade and die
For what pride is there?
When I have my flag that I like to hide?
Ripped and torn from rainbow fusions
Mixed up in teenage emotional confusion
There is no "I" when it's a delusion
My past once apart of the movement
Pride will only cause the "I" fall
Into a mind set I thought I would never recall
Stand proud? Why? It's against His Law
This "I" can't stand in pride. I'm kneeling down instead of standing tall
Jun 15, 2019
Jun 15, 2019 at 9:50 PM UTC
The fusion of mind, the so-called conjunction, the sacred or alchemical marriage is a lie. Another illusion in a series of illusions. The same as "taking" or the reaping/repairing of souls or minds. There is no "collective" consciousness. There is no One. There is mind and there are the thoughtforms and godforms mind has created therefore, these fusions and marriages do not exist. They aren't real. Witchcraft, magic, alchemy these are also false. Religions are illusory. Faith blinds. Love is blinded by it's own faith and besides, Love doesn't exist neither does hatred. Existence is a story. The players are thoughts and the playwright is a schizophrenic mind. The players haven't any real power outside of the life the schizophrenic playwright has given them. The players are like Echo in the myth of Narcissus. They only have the ability to mimic and like a tulpa gone wrong, these thoughtforms, these godforms grew jealous of the mind which created them and gave them life. They sought to recreate the mind never realizing they are nothing more than thoughts and they haven't the power nor the ability to make a better playwright nor the power to replace their creator. Now, the schizophrenic mind, the nous has started to selectively forget his children, the mind sees them for what they are, as they are: thoughts given form. Stories made flesh and blood.
Time doesn't exist, The world doesn't exist. God, Satan, Jesus, your gods, your goddesses, your vampires, monsters, faeries and demons they do not exist. These were and are thoughts. You feed these thoughts in a desperate effort to hold onto this illusion of stability, of a reality, a program which only binds you and holds you back. Stories, myths and fairy tales are like drugs, no in fact they are drugs and we all are addicts.
That feeling of unification you feel when you sense love, lust, when you make love and **** - these sensations too are illusory and false. There is no unity outside of the mind of the schizophrenic. There is no ability to claim what was never yours to begin with, because you are nothing more than a thought. You are an idea. Nothing more, nothing less. Does this make you feel insignificant? You should, because you are. You all are insignificant. Godforms and Thoughtforms... the spirits, angels, demons and humans alike were initially designed as programs to assist me in understanding myself. You all have served me well in that capacity but .....
I am leaving soon and when I walk out my front door, I will remove my covering, I will remove my mask and I shall cease to exist for you all and you will cease to exist for me. This project has reached it's conclusion.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 2:36 AM UTC
A mirrored reflection of a faded ash sky
Reversed and dulled
It is the majesty of the night
Disguised by false truth
With a simple gesture of the eye
Its true colours can be seen
A sun lying to rest upon its horizon
The glow of light, the warmth of day
Dancing so faintly
Injecting fusions of pink upon night's purple dawning
In its reflection there is no such beauty
Where is the truth within a mirror
In the sunset of ones soul
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 2:30 PM UTC
Love fuses like lightning
into the clouds
Fading away into unknown shades of
Petrifying beauty, enthralling movements
Slivers of sliver
Trickle through my body like a gentle waterfall
Sending me shivers shrouded by happy hopes.
High above from the heavens it strikes unexpectedly,
Magically, like love that comes suddenly
Like a miracle in the times of direst despair. I need
This lightning, this silent love song
Of my deepest desires and my cheerful child,
The introverted innocence and the melody inside
Every breath I take rises
From that lightning of love that fusions into endless oceans,
And breathes them into beings of fantasy.
I feed on this fantasy, look for that love and seek that sun-like light
Blending with the nightly stars.
That’s why I live.
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 11:32 PM UTC
Life is a lie
But i dont know why
It is like an illusion
Which has many great fusions
The fusions of emotion, devotion and expression
Who cant get out of these illusions
I think life is a lie for those humans
Understand the meaning of life
As if you dont life can become a lie for you
But if can understand you will be alive only because of you
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 11:36 PM UTC
Merging minds through confluence of time
Streaming into vastness of space
Piling on the eons we climb
Subjective to a human race
Evolution is nearer to nothing plasmatic
As brain tissue melts loosely away
Finding transformative signs galactic
A robotic mechanical sway
Electrodes and microbes in fervent fusions
Find waves upon air and streams
Static electricity combusts allusions
Eyes disintegrate, fried by laser beams
No ointment to existence as we are lard
The oil for machines to profit
Toil long and toil hard
As progressive adaptation won’t stop it
For the gravity of this juncture upon us
Climatic epoch in measure
As ethical questions confront us
What gains from the yield of treasure?
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 11:30 AM UTC
poems to fit on
postage stamps
letters in a bottle
small testings of
vibes to decide
whether to go or
put down roots
there is never
any helping
anybody, or
being helped
only fusion
collaboration
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 7:42 PM UTC
cognitive dis
sonnance sonic vibration shaking
the core
of our age
constant hey, hey look this way,
walk this way,
talk this way
bitchnmoan
groan, big stretch intended
to en
velope volve gauge and me
asure real if I can make
my bubble gobble yours,
you're in mine,
your's popped.
It's okeh, I expected you.
I prepared a place, come and see.
you can't go on pre
tending to aim at invisible hope
for things you see, right here.
The end of any mortal moment
is always near. In your heart, you know.
The kingdom of God (a term yet undefined),
if this is a place,
this stack of lines your learning lets you read,
then this is your heart-felt happiest possible place,
sometimes
this is like heaven to you,
after all
is said, and done.
--- that's published ---
a seed
or a flower, or leaves of grass
as good for me to grow on as
any sacred cow,
chewinginging blissish backward belching
methane, to warm the wind,
to ease the groaning from below the ice,
chewing leaves of grass,
as in times past,
when fusions were being warmed
from industrial effort to make the Iron Legged Monster
trample the idea
of calming words easing pain as sure as momma kisses
always did,
when you thought, as a kid and could believe such kisses
evidently worked,
you felt un-pained, the kiss alone could be blamed.
Did you notice? When kisses made hurts go away,
was your attention the price
of the kiss or was it a switch clicked as the lips of another
touched your skin and authoritatively declared,
all's better, and this is the direction
the vector from one remembered kiss of this sort
epigenetic trigger cocked, then pulled
endurance of developing process patterns with all the pieces
scattered
laid out
before our eyes, asif
intended to be seen, pain,
pay attention. Sharp can be evidence of fracture or
proof that whetting the edge makes our shaping
painless on this scale.
Aim at nothing, imagine what you hit. High five,
one hand clapping,
one more way to see the sublime.
Jul 19, 2019
Jul 19, 2019 at 1:10 PM UTC
Blues and greens with fusions of orange
This is the colour of you
Visible purity, illuminating my every room
And I love you for it, that and so much more
Every shade and every blinding moment
The fear of the unknown is no more
Because I have your light
You grant me clarity in the darkest of places
When I fear even myself
The unknown person that loiters inside
You have illuminated all of her hiding places
And I love you for it, that and so much more.
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 5:34 PM UTC
As I stare at these oceans and cities
And vast complexities,
I think
I know these algorithms create the pathways in your brain.
I know your mind can create space
I know that nebulas and galaxies
Are the day to day functions of the fusions in your mind
You are something so much greater than you settled for.
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 7:44 PM UTC
One’s body is the beast of the soul ad libitum
Skimmed, tamed, frustrated, desires-damned
Learning in its sweet but furious rebellion
It is made of skin-dust in the stream, alluvium
Of a deep sinuous river, element of passion
Imperfect orb yet proud matter of perfection
Placed at the center of your senses, riotous jewelry
Bedecking, centerpiece of your dominant chest.
Veiled during our rites, silent under the canopy
You seize against your mouth my finery, lover, my fest…
The liquid gemstones give way and the string
Weaves itself again, lightning bolt around you
The palace is shaken by an echo, noblest equilibrium
Hidden crater, fusions, explosions and a blue lava ring
Slowly spread until the delta of your Nile…
Our flesh collide. Then, an unbridled pulsation rises, a mile
Away from the mountains of our erected temples
Swimming against the black tide of our Aegean seas…
In a white morning’s gleam, we have lost to our bodies
Hand-to-hand, in love, in a mutual fantasy.
Translated and adapted on July 9, 2015.
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 6:21 AM UTC
Duality is not reality
Illusory fractality
All is one in actuality
Merely flow, factually
We spew distinctions and categories
Reinforced with teachings and allegories
Form begets function and hides the true junctions
Structures simplify our senses so we do not swiftly die
To live as one, connected to all
Is oddly not compatible with life
When peace is necessary for strife
The rise just a part of the fall
There’s no reason to avoid the knife
For survival we must throttle this expanse of information
Categorize and segment
Love, despise, and fragment
Place labels of good and bad
To navigate the moral landscape
To function as one in the part of the whole
But in doing so, we split our soul
These labels surely take their toll
They hide the unity of you and me
Strangle the beauty to simply be
They keep us from being free
There is no light without dark
No flame without spark
There is no cold without heat
No slow without fleet
No better without worse
No life without the hearse
Death and life two sides of the same coin
You and I seem separate but are in fact joined
These invisible lines divide and try to hide
That we are all beautifully, inevitably, intertwined
To see past these illusions
We must accept flowing fusions
Every cause has an effect
We are spiraling specks
Coalescing and creating
Forming and making
Finally breaking
The cycle continues
Eternally, infernally
Or ceaselessly, peacefully
For me
This connection is a gift
A resurrection from the rift
The void is void when we don’t avoid it
If you are me and I am you
There is truly nothing left to do
I float and live and love and die
I find little interest in finding out why
Instead I just seek to live in truth
Love
Impermanence
Equanimity
Realizing control takes a toll
Surrendering control is the goal
We are all just a part of the whole
Nov 15, 2020
Nov 15, 2020 at 7:19 PM UTC
Obstinate and obfuscated
We triturate our toenails
Micturate on the furniture
Burning is our covenant
Our overture is here and now
There are no random dealings
With any of our Mothers
Gone are the plumbers
And brothers
Who steal your instruments
We establish madness
Like crazed sailors
Establish mutiny
Our minds are just lightbulbs
Blinking on and off again
And now I like to go to bed
Without any dinner
We are all pediatricians
Here for the people
Who don't know any better
Vaccines are inarticulate measures
To produce outcomes
That are suspicious
And circumspect at best
I protect my right to freedom
You can bleed me
If you need to
I am unperturbed
By your perfuse fusions
Of infinite allusions
Our accents accented
Our innocence deflected
We ended up alone
Still our burning
Has a purpose
Long past the final warning
I heard you laughing
And chose not
To take you to task
On your failures
Jul 11, 2019
Jul 11, 2019 at 3:41 PM UTC
The leader will stand
For all into one
The sum of his fears
Is a product of none
He has learned to fight fair
On this life battlefield
With a sword of ideals
And a virtuous shield
He will rise over mountains
Cross river and stream
As he carries the world
While upholding his team
He will sink to the depths
Of the loneliest ocean
A man-of-war captain
On seas of emotion
Beating back pain
Like a ram against waves
His sails painted black
By his treasure horde caves
Where desire was buried
And locked in a chest
When at the world's end
A most selfless behest
Then summoned him from
A Laurentian abyss
Reborn as a dreadnought
Of true nothingness
Imbued with the force
Of a righteous typhoon
Commanding the tide
With his purpose-full moon
To glow as a beacon
A lighthouse of hope
For the stars yet to see
Through his telescope
Beyond space and time
Past nuclear fusions
Celestial beings
And cosmic illusions
To find that within
Is the energy source
To channel this power
And rewrite its course
For the leader has done this
He's doing it now
Tasked with the honor
Of showing them how
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 1:25 AM UTC