"harmonics" poems
I could not find you in the woods..
With the moon as my light..
You were lost in seven thoughts..
Lost and out of sight..
Your light steps were fading..
Your stardust too..
Pinch harmonics and shadow voices..
Are coming through..
I see you looking toward the stars..
And then you look toward me..
Your eyes are filled with moonlight..
You shine and leave to the star sea..
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 10:23 PM UTC
Yellow is
a high-minded mood
the extravagance of sunlight
to be touched--
before long
by colors of play
____________
It is of hair
tendering golden sun
brown pennies for lemonade
____________
Yellow is
bumping into the screaming end
of a lit
cigarette
_____________
Yellow is
dripping from the eaves
onto an empty soup can
_____________
It is
spindling sparrow song
from highest perch on roof
his pitch can aspire
_____________
Yellow is
in rattled doorknob
an infant's sweet
voice wanting – in
Reciting menu
above mattress
edges into sleep
two dark eyes
plead
for yellow
waking
Mother into morning--
“juice.... eggs”
Yellow ____
is
opening a car door
at the shore's
unmistakable!
Smells of life
warmth and breeze
touching strings
those kites
of sense
harmonics
above the tone
octaves of excitement
to see to hear to touch to taste
to know
again –
the ocean of my mother
as she calms the waves,
ignores the pouts of us
with stuff to lug out to the beach
the towels, pails and shovels
Picnic basket, cooler
lotion, comic books, her magazines
Mom looks out
She is a good swimmer
Her glasses, dark
Preside
reflecting beauty –
“Take your sister's hand.”
Yellow are the squeals
Feet thrashing sand
of cannot wait
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 10:06 PM UTC
The tightrope expires
And the skyscraper hollows out.
This hate is vicious and repeated,
Repeated; repeated on the news reel,
And in a Hollywood romance.
We’re skipping generations
Through faded vinyl sound
Of dust mite and crack;
I’m folding digits over chords,
Extinguishing lovers
By turning them to songs.
Oh, reality convenes, convenes
On the mind, and on the consciousness
Of fact. Don’t steal my job,
Don’t **** my land,
And never fall asleep
Under the sun.
There is poetry to mathematics,
Scaling the harmonics of the sound,
Some universal language;
Some bottled message to our brothers
Who are looking back at us
From the distance of the stars.
And, terror is called from every side,
Until we’re terrified to eat or breathe,
In the tremor of a terror
That can never come to be.
The tightrope fell down with the buildings,
But its idea, it still lives on.
We could be on the precipice of better times,
Or under the shadow of a nuclear bomb.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
The world was stunned as the a Dark One fell,
His legacy blooming like a black-petaled rose.
The thorns pierced through the eyes of man,
And the Devil cried with me.
He showed the frozen skin of morals--
With gaping pride and ******* strength--
Adorned and caressed by machinery.
And the Devil cried with me.
There was babies in the barrel,
And an alter upon the horns.
******** cries far-and-wide.
And the Devil cried with me.
Harmonics perching on twisted limbs,
And darkness bursting from our chests,
Our greatest nightmares echo His sinister sight...
And the Devil cries with us.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 3:45 AM UTC
*excited this night
soprano harmonics chime
self silent...I hear*
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
Its hard to believe to listen to
The sound of silence through layman's ears
For silence,an unestablished thought
Rides the young hearts only through fear.
Maturity, an understanding through beneath
Sediments like evils srata
For if you conquered,it only leads
To the sound of silence,every data.
For as we stare, me and words together,
Silence redeems through the pages
Every drop of ink forever
Can spell the words through all the ages.
The silence that lingers between
Begs me to hear it closer
Its trying to express the unwanted enclitic
The words that will fade never.
And now as i cherish this conversation of silence,
I realize that ink has a spirit
And to know the mistake i have committed
Which on my face like a bright light lit.
And to know the spectacular reason
I'm astonished myself, i must say
Ink helps us when we are not thinking
Flowing on paper without delay.
This sound of silence that i have gathered now,
Must be of great help all through my life
It will let me hear all those unsound-able things
And help me to decide when to stab a knife.
Through my youth scores, a bunch of thirty
Led me through a rugged terrain,
And now i want a plain surface with lots of pleasure
To lead a life, to be truly sane.
The sound is like a hand i want
Which helps me to walk in young years
Through the blasphemy, through humanism
It will strike away all my fears.
Does one realize that i said
The words of silence through every phase
The crumb of bread a beggar needs
The food of life heaven feeds?
They can't be realized by screaming though oceans,
They can't be realized by ending a story
For they are the curse of hearing unknown thoughts,
The sound of silence one and only.
My heart beats are frantic now,
As i have reached the harmonics of music,
Sweet and presentable they are now
Tapping your life like your feet.
They are many fellows who can't sing
So they make you suffer the sound of silence
With every teardrop longing for supper
Fighting their way through all the violence.
For those who have a great voice
It doesn't mean that they have to be proud,
For it may break any time
Like breaking a stone, like rumbling of clouds.
And i may not be an instrumentalist
And i may not be a teacher,
But i can stop the silence and let them hear music
And make them smile, not to suffer.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 4:24 AM UTC
Long division, twelve red balloons
in the wind, I'm heavy with thoughts
that always keep me grounded,
a heartbeat driving home against
rubber-bands, swelling in paper skin
disintegrating beneath drops of gravity,
people who sound like piano notes
silvery, sustained harmonics
and smell like peaches
feel like home
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 1:42 PM UTC
What song did the sirens sing, Ulysses?
What tune could break your will,
cause you to lose your way?
Were you strung by the sound of a harpy's harp?
Lured by the lies of hideous creatures
singing songs of fabled falsehoods?
Like empty eggshells holding none
of the nutrients they promised.
Was their melody flooded with the bitter truth of love unreturned?
Did they sing of release?
Release from the turmoil the journey was and would continue to bring?
Were the dissonant harmonics of a watery end,
the chance to be one with the sea
what made you beg for your bindings to be cut?
Perhaps the sirens sang the greatest songs of all.
Perchance they sung
of passion sweeter than nectar,
of love stronger than ambrosia,
waiting to be given to the sailor
that could traverse
death itself
and make his way to them.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
We're GIANTS on a toy-top spinning-speck
space-bound swallowed;
joining harmonics
in gyrating clock work's working;
catching gears of time's time
circling Ra's warmth
We're GIANTS on a toy-top spinning-speck
bellicosing great power's glory;
dwarfed into a vast cosmic oblivian
likened to a speck
of plankton
in a whales belly
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 2:07 AM UTC
i only find my solace in half rhymes and soft narcotics
and twice-sung dueled harmonics
keep my tongue between my teeth
and keep my dagger in its sheath
and i guess i should have known
not to let my dark be shown
cause he only wants the light
well i suppose it's only right
nothing grows in darkness
nothing grows in darkness
i can only keep myself contained
in tired metaphors and shame
i just wanted him to know
i could love even his shadow
show my hand and call my bluff
let the edges keep their rough
tell me every single story
spitting off each promontory
nothing grows in darkness
nothing grows in darkness
i'm told that every great disaster
is building up my character
i'm told that every great destruction
paves the way for new construction
but i was never one for artifice
i'm a bare ***** tree as stark as this
i thought you were my home but you were termites
leave me alone and go search for your spotlights
nothing grows in darkness
nothing grows in darkness
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
i would like to play the trumpet for you
i feel i could breathe
the wailing of my soul into it.
i could play myself through this instrument
into consciousness
from this sleeping dream
into smoke from this flame
i could wisp and dissipate
like clouds in your eyes
can you see the clouds in mine?
or the dew, in the morning left?
i cant remember the rain
though i am drenched, i am dripping
every bit falling, drop by drop,
into a lake never quenched
before words, before television
you have always preceded
the breath standing at the crest of my lips
but turned, scared, naked
retreating, from the beach
back to the sea
where you close curtains
to my whale song
pounding at the door
unintelligible frequencies
on top of waves and across the sandy floor
i sink so low, shaking
chains shackled to the earth
i'd barter for the key
but the guards
they ask the trumpet from me
summoning vultures to my stomach
my burning coal punishment
for swimming so reckless
for weeping on the shoreline
because you and the rainwater receded
back into the depth of chambered winds
slipping like the valves from my fingertips
before the hushed tones of my non harmonics
my soul blossoming out of it
my song on every radio, every wax and needle
in the air wisping out
when you are not the sun
and not listening.
clouds in the back of eyes,
and sleepless nights.
Jul 7, 2010
Jul 7, 2010 at 6:15 PM UTC
The spirited light; the solar-like wind;
breath with its passion; the sun’s copious
****** venom.
I speak of everything and all things
without caution: this noise inside my head;
layers of high pitched harmonics;
the compressed hours between
birth and death; the heart’s heat
ascending and descending;
the end always beginning and again
your Gothic eyes. I have been here
and there, a prodigal hawk
with the flavor of blood-kisses hovering
like steam or mist or a weapon stirring
the body’s carbonic magnetic motion;
never the sky always the silence disclosing
the stillness in death’s fantasy—life and death;
love and loss; a fatalistic dream-reel
as if two mirrors facing each other reflecting
the same vacant image. I remember the faint
trail of finger prints; my impatient pulse
raced into yours. Deserted passions
like roses each one dies the same way
—our emotions mumbled
through love and into the glazed elixir
of a French kiss: In my arms you had fallen asleep
not knowing I had left.
——————————————————————————
From my second book: 'The Second Coming'
©dah / Stillpoint Books 2012
all rights reserved
"never the sky always the silence"—from Andre' Breton
Search Amazon: "the second coming/dah" and "in forbidden language/dah"
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 2:58 PM UTC
The first moment
Was divided by the total mass
The center of..
The moment of inertia
Rigid in body
How much more torque
Will turn this rotations
Secondary
In a moment
Notice the rotational axis
Of the earths fastest acceleration
Mass times the square
Of the perpendicular distance
To the rotation of our sphere
Can anyone else hear
Could anyone else here
Understand the scalar magnitude
Of a poets Newtonian mechanics
And the motion of macroscopic objects
Circling his metaphors
If the present state of an object is known
It is possible to predict by the laws
Of classical mechanics
How it will move
The spherical harmonics
Are a set of orthogonal functions
Yet periodic functions composed of sinusoids
Is the assumption of weighted summation
Discrete time fourier transformation
In relation to a quills synthesizing rotation
Is the explanation I'm trying to relate in
What do you think I'm saying
Need I explore the atomic orbital electron configurations
Their representation of gravitational fields geoids
Fiber reconstruction for estimation
of the path and location
Of a poems explanation
For the spin of its formation
Is just a calculation
Differing in interpretation
By the readers relation
Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 12:19 AM UTC
If anyone would be interested to watch me explain some stuff about the way harmonics work as applied to the guitar, check this out:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZJmAw0ITeuc
I get down and nerdy about some basic physics and music theory as they pertain to the guitar, strings, and harmonics. Perhaps some of you may dig it!
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 11:22 AM UTC
“No, I said the song was stuck in my head”.
Well, maybe your just trapped in an entire melody.
Chained to a wall of harmonics.
Pinned to the floor by the tetra-chord.
Sequenced and submissioned in a pool of Lonian Mode and Aeolian Mode notes.
Your brain corresponds to a numeric ratio responding the principal intervals of a scale.
Hail to the symphony, to the orchestra.
Give your all to Pythagoras, the Greek philosopher of such discovery.
This ongoing evolution of stringed instruments and major and minor scales, forms, interprets, co-exists with one another, forever.
If you were to associate yourself to the modern tunings of ancients temperament, you’ll see that just because they have ultimately derived, does not mean that they have all died.
The song you are stuck in reaches way back in time, when world knew no hymn.
Any song is a reminder of a world that once was dim.
Sep 20, 2010
Sep 20, 2010 at 1:26 AM UTC
Bones in the rye field they sang, brittle stems of iron spreading leaves of
rust
A hidden look in watery eyes, secret sickness, ripping my guts
asunder
That space between midnight and morning when the world has been reduced
to monotone
In the blue-gray lucidity we sit, absorbed in cigarettes and gusting
wind
A few notes of Satie and I’m sitting in that blue room again, bamboo out the
window
Your voice like a finger running up my spine, singing to me, drowned out by
spring showers
Clay pots on the shelves, wilted sunflowers on the floor, grass pushing its way
through the floorboards
I step into falling rain, dream of sleep, dream of nothing, the blankness between
wakefulness
Hands carrying the scars of a thousand days, much like the day before, unconscious of
its passing
In tired two syllable words we exchange our hearts
In smiling kisses we pass each other breath, fresh like fertile ground split by
rugged plow
Black and white photographs in odd fitting drawers with cheap brass
handles
A pocket watch carried by many men before me, strewn upon stained counters
and newspaper clippings
I will these tired eyes to come to their senses, absorbed in a single word in a single
line
Losing their focus for minutes at a time, the sensation of drifting, the feeling of
fading
Like watercolor or lines in well-trod earth, shuffled into meaningless
harmonics
I still miss the sound of your violin, though you thought no one listened through
that ***** window
Scraps of Scriabin and Brahms, your symphonies saved me many a night
Such frail hands and white scalp, but you did not shake when bow met
fingers
Those nights of cheap Merlot, secretly stealing a moment of calm from your
skilled hands
The records never quite rivaled those nights, my unknown
friend
Jun 22, 2012
Jun 22, 2012 at 8:25 PM UTC
Resonating like harmonics through the air from a grand piano run your words telling me you love me, you miss me, you need me, but never goodbye.
Waiting for the music to begin after a grand pause I sat in front of the colors, realizing everything was indeed black and white. I began to tell my story. The music filled the air but died immediately and fell from the sky upon deaf ears.
Bewildered faces of all who were awaiting the music scattered the room. Nervously I began again only this time was louder than before. Adding new twists and turns and free moments of my life's cadence I released more than I ever desired for anyone to hear and still nothing. As the walls pilfered the sounds all who awaited began to lose patience.
Immediately I regretted even sitting and beginning but it was too late. To arise and leave a shadow was all that was left. Eyes forward, I departed bringing along a new emptiness which accompanied me down the stairs lying below my dead words.
No sooner than I reached the last step did ghost notes sing through the air followed by applause. Then was my biggest mistake, I turned around.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 4:52 AM UTC
I thought I saw you
before I saw you.
I thought I felt the wind
grace the back of my neck
like
Whispers tempered with speeches,
waiting.
Those, thoughts that played against my mind
Like a memory that served purpose years ago.
You carried through me like the river.
In and out,
Back and fourth.
Mud stuck to the bottoms of my feet,
I rinsed them in the cool stream of your reminders.
Were you real?
As real as I am.
And although I dreamed these things,
You confirmed each line I came to remember.
There was that silence that Bumped along your hips
like,
Stars in the sky and the forest of trees
behind the house you grew up in.
Was it a dream,
was it a stitched together
like the meandering waterfall,
its roaring voice too loud to hear the tickling of that cold water.
When I took my shoes off and jumped in,
naked and full of fear,
and you held me close.
You said with your voice I heard as harmonics,
I’m right here.
I’m right here.
And I let my body lay against yours,
like I had done it a thousand times,
and told you to come to bed.
Your flesh was like the mountains I visited as a child.
Dips and canyons engraved upon my minds eye,
my fingers laced against the curves of your essence.
And I breathed your name like it was a lullaby.
I let you break every barrier I had ever built
Within the those moments of bodies melting, becoming one.
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
There I stood.
Body trembling, hearing only manic depressive echoes.
On one side, mournful cries, on the other, sheer harmonics.
There was a feeling of dream-like reality.
Some great force enveloped my body, compelling me to stagger forward.
With no realization of the whereabouts of my being,
I conceded to follow my feelings, as I always did.
With each step I took,
I could see and feel and experience a new part of my life that had already happened.
It was a chronological walk in time.
The conflicting noises ahead continued to get louder and more distinct.
On one side there was a gnashing of teeth; screaming and yelling ruled.
It was riotous, and strange looking people were festering about.
They scowled and spat at me; the smell--repelling.
On the other side, there was a great feeling of unity.
Great stillness and serene calmness.
An entity secure within itself.
There were much fewer on this side.
I chose to walk close to this side.
My knees buckled, but I miraculously remained standing.
There I stood; facing the Creator.
Anticipating God’s words, I prematurely smiled expecting open arms.
God, in all His righteous power, simply pointed at me and thundered;
“I know ye not!”
There I stood… body trembling.
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 6:27 PM UTC
I had dreams of Utah or Minnesota, though
I've never been anywhere close to either.
I dreamt of the endless fields and their
waving grains and the tendrils of tree limbs
aching outward, towards the sun, when it
bothers slipping by.
I dreamt of women
in black shirts tending bars, and escaping
from the seventy-dollar buses hiding
behind green blocks all corrugated and spry,
when she'd take strangers to bed in
abhorrence of the quiet of sleeping to the
sound of no other's breath. For all
her strength she still lay meekly, wondering
when completion would creep by and slip
between the bedsheets with her; he did,
and she smiled.
Her own heart, swollen,
still questions, however, if she should have
taken the lover who'd found light the
first second he met her. But she's no
clue of the words in his head, 'cept
hazy glimmers in late-night rendezvous when
they once were lonely, out on the driveway where
life stirs once per millenium, where love
lies sleeping under the clarity of stars
some nights when I wish I'd not gone
and left your island, your
pocket of silent faith
waiting to happen,
but I held the seeds under ground
within the winter of my heart.
My toepads glide along crushed glass
in mysteries as the dawn breaks upon
the horizonline, the twisting of orange-lit
pale gold salmonflesh torn cirrus,
sprayed across the sky and
over the sea's edge
I yearn for
so late in the distance.
And it all just keeps coming back to
this:
When we lay in breath harmonics as
humanforged dust found its way through
your eyelids, I was screaming of words, never
even muttered, in mine; the straight gaze and
your slipping eyelashes made morse signals that
I would never decode. Downstairs in the kitchen
in a haze
you said tiny words;
the ones I could never champion,
and for once I believed it
and so left
for your sweet smile's sake.
I'm sorry.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 5:53 AM UTC
Our souls were
Heavy with
Silence, on the night we parted.
At least, they were to our ringing ears.
Yet everyone could hear it but us, it seems.
That sad melody of our hopes and our fears,
Heard from miles and years
Away... of sad romances and softly whispered dreams
That our hearts told us could never be... They were right, it seems.
You won't remember my face.
Only echoes of my skin; like a portrait
Under a portrait, painted over in every empty space
...
Like so many failed paintings;
Like so many failed...
My hands won't even allow me to write.
Isn't that
Sick?So... Don't ask me to write any more. I won't ask you to
Sing
More. I'll write no further
Eulogies for our failed sonata. Here's the coda. There's the door.
???? Isn't it funny? That we couldn't hear that sound before?
We were singing such beautiful songs, but they were
Melodies that the singers couldn't hear. Isn't that the definition of ironic?
And... Though I couldn't hear our last symphony, I would
Dare say that could my ears have divined that melody...
Every note had to be perfect. As if the composer of that song had designed it
To be sung in a duet....
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC
with fingers for lips
he slipped underneath
deboning human skin
strung up my ribs on the ceiling
under which we dangled
femurs and phalanges
on super strings
chiming 3-part harmonics
on black galactic wind
him, me, Everything
tender clinks silencing
floored motionless flesh
I was not bones, nor skin
but oms inciting orbital dance
spinning with him invisibly
with heartlids pinned back
pounding the key of eternity
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 11:17 AM UTC
A little stone
found me on my way
she took me in her hands
using my hands
and she whispered
using the sound of the wind:
My gift to you
she said
is the moment
that makes you be
these endless landscapes
I’ve crossed
until our ways met
to touch this way
We exchange to purify
without being attached
no thoughts – no visions –
no appreciation of time –
no expectations from the past –
no intention of the next and after
shall trespass
This is a message to be delivered to you
that shall come in handy sometime
because it’s no mystery that
there really is no one out there
but a technology of
‘when you are not
the will suffers having not
initiated my mud
to sculpt ‘
then
the following is a swamp
Come lets walk hand in hand
stand on that hill and watch
while the wind blows us through the blue
rounding red yellow curly hue
of high rocks
look inside
and sing now
one as I
*
then you will see
then you will be
you do not need to touch
pick a stone just
call it mystery
call it technology
all the same
when all there is
is is
not the eyes
but my presence
that which illuminates
sees
sees to dance
and correct postures
sees to be
the very object
as clarity
eyes gets better
if it were blurred
posture straightens
if it were crimpled
you become the sweetest
shape of the wind to a bumblebee
an ever expanding
harmonics of a
song unknowingly
for a moment just
for a moment maybe
but such a moment of
a celebration is
comparable to a
lifetime only*
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
I settle into the passenger’s side
of your ’74 Monte Carlo.
The futonish front seat softly implies
an alliance center consoles forgo.
Hot boxing the car with clove cigarettes,
you casually spark plug the engine.
I roll down the window, scything through jets
of balmy wind with my fingertips. Skin
deserts silently ****** skin lagoons;
My neck—a cracked quill supporting onyx
memories in a transistor room—
rests close to your barley breath harmonics.
You, the capo of this fresh syndicate,
naturally get more than I transmit.
2/10/09
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 11:28 PM UTC
Violence, I Don’t Hold Those Rains,
Silence Beside My Eyelids Inside Know My Pain,
Were Just A Number Don’t Own A Name,
Social Security, Tags Sincerely,
Passing Through Earths Plane, Piercing Purity,
I Call My Conscious Kato ,
Cos Andrew Michael Gammons Just A Label,
I’m The Eye Rolling The Die, & The Decision Implied That Lys Upon The Table,
I Am Infinite, Able To Untangle The Tangled,
That Gold Ratio, Element Lighting, Vessica Pieces,
Hyper Space Igniting, Lapse In Time, When Beauty Shines , Love Is Always Present,
A Gift Inside, Of Course Were From The Same Source , That Sprit Light,
That Multiplied, Manifesting Universal Matrix, Some Moments I Feel Foreign , I Face It,
I Am Right Here On Some Real Outer Space ****
I Feel Out Of Space When, I’m Faced With Low Vibrations,
I’m So ******* High , That’s Why I Can’t Take It,
Shrooms Showed Me Truth In Life Illusions Like Liqour & Ballons, Is Just An Act Of Consume, Prophet
It’s Full Of Aliens, Beautiful Harmonics, Space ships . Healing Onyx,
I’m Neither Humble Nor Modest, I’m Honest, They Key Is Within,
Lying Out Your Chin When You Grin Got It In Your Pocket,
G.E.D Bleeds Deep Won’t Be Forgotten,
With Shattered Knees By Close Friends That Deceived Claimed They Got Him
You Will Be At The Top Brother Man, Understand They At The Bottom,
What Others Did . Glad No Body Shot Him,
I Really Morph Into A Monster When I’m Feeling Rotten,
At Least Ged Didn’t Turn Away,
Kash You Blamed Me & ******* Burned My Face,
I Am In Galactic Space, Manifesting Amplifying , High Exchange,
Inner Out & Outer, I’ve Just Written My Ritual, Visuals The Perfect Hour,
I’m On My Way To The Mo urge, But Before I Need To Take A Shower,
I Sit Under An Oak Kick It For An Hour,
Embrace The Hearts Of Stars That Wore Torn Apart By Cowards
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 5:27 PM UTC