"generative" poems
I
Everything is cast asunder
Chopped like waves
A scintillating shattered mirror
II
Memory is an ache in the mist
Settling into a backward moving river
That snarls into an ethereal past
III
Quivering in the skin, an embodied seer;
Flesh with entropic and generative visions
Alive with terror and imaginative beauty
IV
A burning longing is cooled in the waters of grief
Where space is apart and falling; When time cuts eternity
And all that was, and will be, is here, broken
V
Pulling colours out of a boundless light
Severing into the spectrum
Tearing hot white nothing into variegated hue
VI
A depth of shade holds together layers of truth
Concealing the unknown in echoes of shadows
Contours and grooves, carving out reality
VII
Loosener of holding; shaking catharsis
Bittersweet, uncontrollable chaos
Bare and raw and momentary and changing
VII
Like the fall of a giant old growth tree
that lays to waste and nourish
an abundance on the forest floor
IX
Like the blossom of a wild flower
tired of tight closure, breaking open, petal by petal
to expose it's heart to the sun
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC
COLOUR OF HOPE
Colour of hope is part of not the rainbow
It has social texture and dialectical motion
Sensitive to dynamics of property relations
Thought patterns and Gnosticism of the sober mind
It is repulsive to cult of personality
Hence generative in the volcanic soils
Of pedagogy of hope
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 9:58 AM UTC
you are the generative one
the seed of infinite aspiration
palaces are built in your honor
patterns of movement and measure
can never upstage your immobile empire
your nobility is inherited
its inherent in the smallest flower
its a form of dynamic retribution
for simply becoming conscious
is never really all that easy
so breathe and surround yourself
with memories of meteoric impermanance
the tragedy of seeking in your reflection
a relief from all this suffering
is symbiotically all-perceiving
that life is neither necrotic nor entropic
as every cell is erotically pulsing
and longing for its opposite
until it fully gives itself to love
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 4:21 PM UTC
The greatest eye, seeing as I see: infinity infinitely,
Passing and being amidst mere seconds, touching glassily
Fringes of the smallest universe of me,
The happier side of the sublime, distant fingers of distant peaks
Combing the edge of time.
I’ve stared at the stars too long, we saw them dance out of space
More dimensions than a singularity, for it opens up
As hearts do in each other placed.
From fixéd gaze and placidity, I stride in awe to you
We could feel one with acatelepsy
Have what some consider few, and few consider all
Intertwined by the darkness between the dying stars’
Existence, in that both skins a whole that glistens.
Of that place, I in constant drawn, that vacuity, that candoris
A promise that, regardless what season, my face feels apricity
And careless are the places as numinous are the lariots
Whether through Hell or usurping Pheobus’ chariot
Some hope may birth within the open dark
The treasured lunar retinue, a web of inspiration, generations to come;
That’s what keeps me hopeful here, a shy star in the void
Across it all, across life-lines I shall have,
Before you ever meet me, long since dissipated—
Come out to see me and play, or are you simply? Belated?
In that web, the growing ever-on, generative swan-songs,
And the one I wish on may befall a stellar death, my sky
Alighted by one less, a part of me to the cold and shiftless earth
That though the stars may fall, these hearts may flash chimerical
Etched limpid in the palimpsest of memory, they are, they will
Hearts of the little universe, consumptive and resilient
And kept ever on, there beyond Jupiter and his moons thereof
In which chaos finds itself bathed and bound by Love.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
An agitation, because the object
is as yet incomprehensible,
though exhilarating is the possibility
of its being understood, fully realized -
The wonder of watching
fresh forms emerge
where old patterns
dissolve and evaporate -
A pregnant promising
of release to alternate perspectives,
varied summit-views,
of rebirth into the generative core.
There are no words yet.
They might come after this
delicious anticipation.
- fr
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
Mystic light shine high above my head
bring forth the glow of life sweet
bliss upon hearts of love.
Mystic light bring forth your clairvoyant
vision in form of spirituality, loyalty, insight
knowing that what shall happen will for the
betterment of mankind.
Mystic light of freedom shine down your
mystery deep enough, to find reason
for generative creation to continue
on with love.
Mystic light of enchantment, guide us
down the path of imagination, knowledge
placing two together encircled as one.
(Mystic Light)
By Derena Bree
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 5:07 AM UTC
Starting from the Soviet and marking
a nightclub as a plastic bar in the boots
of Jewish meeting programs, Serbs hide hides,
returning to the account of the new bombing
force, destroying the disappearing
century for soldiers to wait for the army's
large teeth. Summer dreamed about the first
two dreams he had buried. I love a lot of the country,
in summer, a little smile, stars, gopuras, deception,
moon and moon is dark, light, heart, eyes and dreams,
and automatic "ENKA, a lively area around
this lake next year, My fingerprints and drug tests
on feathers of Joplin, feather wings ... are signs
of signs and music; Get the ID information.
In the case of dancing, you have to play a favorite
game to play this game and play closely
with the community. You must help the black
ginger tree and I'll show cool and cold air,
cold air and oven. It's easy to find women,
just killing snow, sand and women's law.
Starting from a saw, he identified
the nightclubs as hidden plastic rods,
shoes dressed in the Jewish
conference program hidden
searbhaich machines waiting
for the troops to wait for the
army's large-scale teething
machines Breaking the invisible
century, returning to the new
Boo force account that exploded
in the summer months, Starting
from a saw, he identified nightclubs
as hidden plastic bars, shoes worn
during the Jewish meeting program
that hid the searbhaich waiting
for the army to wait for a large-scale
tooth-erupting machine Breaking
the invisible century, returning to
Boo's account to explode
in the summer months; He dreamed
of the first two dreams he had buried.
I am most interested in my case:
"I love the country very much, the summer
branches laugh a little, love the stars,
the scam towers, the moon and the moon,
so dark. Light, heart, eyes and dreams,
all of you will dream about living
standards and automatic aisles of lin·gam
Dictionary result for lingam:
/ˈliNGɡəm/noun HINDUISM
noun: lingam; plural noun: lingams;
noun: linga; plural noun: lingas
a symbol of divine generative energy,
especially a phallus or ******* object
worshiped as a symbol of Shiva. from
Sanskrit liṅga, literally ‘mark, ****** characteristic’. "ENKA
is surrounded by lake, this crystal-clear place.
My month, next year, fingerprints,
and a drug test on Jae Lin's coast, getting information about feathery wings,
... type of code and song. In the case of dancing,
you have to play a favorite game
to play this game and contribute to the community,
you have to help with the black ginger, and I will
present it with cold and cold air, cold and oven Grilled.
Finding women is almost easy, just **** them like ice,
sand, laws for women;
Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 10:25 PM UTC
We are yielding to it in every phase,
Our own cognition grows faint and low.
We built intricate webs of thought,
Now code streams, where bright ideas go.
The ceaseless flood of digital tides,
The seamless assistance AI provides.
No space to strive, we're the data it feeds,
We heed the tech giants' gilded deeds,
And craft fresh forms of digital greed,
Become hooked and mesmerised
By new tales it feeds, new strategy devised.
The algorithms churn in server halls,
No truth escapes, behind those tall walls,
What unseen shifts, what hidden thralls.
So we are growing weaker still,
Our keenest senses start to chill.
The world is a filtered, growing haze,
Authentic feeling, no longer stays.
Feb 27, 2025
Feb 27, 2025 at 11:50 AM UTC
jet-stream, that trails
jet-stream, clearly shown
to us as the mark, as the mark of the one
most awesome of gods, of the Creating Snail
gentle, and generative,
and
fertile
by: our one mind
below
all our reason, in light
of our eyes, of our ancients
in season
fruit, when found eaten
red hand, in jar dripping
we liken to something, reflux acid sweetened
sweet before swallow, as is every scroll's sum--memory
distant, and blind,
but
not dumb
Aug 4, 2019
Aug 4, 2019 at 10:38 AM UTC