"insignias" poems
A tyrant king, a
Vandal’s scream
Of moor & rock
And fair I sing;
Life’s to its
Test, guer-
don of unrest,
&strife; believed!
Milked out
like utter red; lipids
****** hard
at birth: semi-
born: made
three legion’s ****
careful; cuz fate’s,
Allectus, mean.
Made in sheaths
An aural memor-
y lock, a- nswer ur
calling; tricky to
be bad &get; a-
way w/it! Caraus-
ius’s on guard
duty; he’s in.
Fog in chan-
nel; no lights:
Bware! Usurp-
ing cou- ntry,
mauling& killing men
To ob- tain
Power; @any
risk in Britain.
gold insignias!
shine ur lite!
greed can’t
pay—poenas dat!
Ascle-
piod-
otus
hears:
He, Allectus does a-
way w/.
Besei-
ge in London—rime
the trea-
sure al-
located;
Vain he found, good.
Crack souls’ ice;
To ruin comes
conceit, comes
that rip- ped part.
Ah, to p’wer& knifes
Like wo- rds...
P’wer slashes
Carves, &impales;.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 11:53 PM UTC
*you know, i can **** before i become homeless; yes? ok... cheerio.*
when i experience no intelligence
after being educated, it's
hardly an expectation to
experience any after... desirably hoped for, that
which offers up the antonymous by-product that's
despaired after so freely, and all those more profitable affairs
of a literate nature to engage with: to be
enslaved likewise missing; oh the gravity
as nothing falling, the tears on my cheeks
with vide cor meum, ah, but you see,
i can stomach a cage and being caged,
should i be forced into a freedom that's
only homelessness.
oh so many insignias of pause that were never
given a mathematical rubric of allowed deciphering!
that grand pause of arithmetic in the undecided
length of pause between (,) (.) (;) and that italicised
pause of (:) readying (a) list(s) of emphasis; let alone
the hyphenation of all the lost emphasises of Pompeii
(embark tongue tied into the grapheme æ);
or embark asking between the threes that are
direct and indirect articulation of plurality,
given then the anti of pluralism is god, and that's neither
direct or indirect, consolidating the direct as prayer
and the indirect as atheism.
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 7:15 PM UTC
Uninhibited soul star
Coming home at light speed
Unrestricted rainbows are
Dreaming for eternity
These cosmic imaginations
In meditation are indications
We are awakening
A prospect so amazing and invigorating
Everything is changing
Rearranging
A chance to grow consciously
And refresh our limitless memory
So we give ourselves the opportunity
To rediscover our truth in unity
Mutually
Inside our merkabas
Covered with insignias
We are made of the purest diamond bliss
Don't be afraid to calm the waves
While your ego tears and twists
Just remember this:
You are caught amidst
A powerless illusion, it's
Okay to feel confusion
As our thoughts become translucent
And we start to find solutions
That dissolve spiritual pollution
Enchant your heart with art
And ignite your right to evolution
I resolve to be a part
Of this Universal Revolution!
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 1:52 PM UTC
I got this idea I'd write you a poem,
One you could read sitting safely at home,
Or keep with you, out and about while you roam.
Some kind of impassioned ballad,
Celebrating all the things I held sacred,
A mirror to illuminate this sky that I’ve painted.
So I laced up my heart, and I shrugged on my soul,
I popped open my noggin, and I went for a stroll,
Right down Memory Lane, and left at the Rabbit Hole.
I kept on 'til I hit a velvet rope with posts of brass,
But I musta gotten too close to the bulletproof glass,
'Cause a big grumpy guard threw me out on my...
I realized, still rolling, it's all one massive museum,
Motionless memories mummified so I can keep 'em,
Lined up and locked away, as if they could be stolen.
Arduously ordered—organized for instant access,
A mental palace fit to make Sherlock get jealous,
That Dewey Decimal dude's got nothin' on this.
The slides replay every minute on the minute,
Time-compressed, Tetrised-in, so each moment fits,
Laser light shows engraving insignias inside my eyelids.
Tear-rusty gears grinding waterlogged cogs in reverse,
This melancholy machine, made to reflect you in verse,
Portrays a planetarium, perpetually projecting my universe.
Apr 20, 2021
Apr 20, 2021 at 5:43 AM UTC
crusaders
christianized, zealous warmongers with ****** stains on stainless steel blades
hauling with them the great flapping insignias of royalty, emblems of their special heritage
disregarding the fact blood flows warm and fast all the same, nobody spared
familiar ties shattered over petty disputes of land and territory in the name of a great purpose
a great purpose disguising glory-seekers and painters whose favorite color is red
led by a massive snowy warhorse with crimson hooves and jet black beady eyes
old, worn, and of a raggedy golden mane forever worshipped
it is my fate to follow
(that’s what they tell me)
crusaders
biblical storytales springing to life as they gallivant across the country singing do-goods
while their actions connotate some great demon lurking about behind their holy words
valiant warriors in service to a mighty omnipresent deity watching woefully from above
as they unnecessarily **** innocents that they knew it was wrong to ******
blind belief is as alive as bloodlust to them, screaming their lungs out for the almighty
they are the salvation and the scourge, leeches of the land and lordly leaders for long
fearful eyes of aliens stare to the sky and grovel in a piteous attempt for mercy
he cannot condone this
(and that’s what they don’t)
crusaders
knights of cardboard armor and ironclad skulls falling by the thousands
yet they relentlessly hunt the enemy like predatory raptors of the past, voracious
not yet declawed or defanged as they are before the plastic wisdom of man claiming to be
the god of glory, gold, and gore; suddenly he is a savage ravager and avenger of the undead
men swear themselves to a cloaked idol in order to become accusers of the guilty
when the openness of perception may be all that is truly necessary
even kings are defenseless against the all-consuming force of religious blessing
how is it just?
crusaders
god’s greatest success
crusaders
god’s greatest regret
(am i both or neither?)
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 10:26 PM UTC
i wonder what its like to be your breath
to be there with you
to feel the tickle and tease of your lips
every time
you exhale
i wonder what its like to be your finger tips
to trace little invisible insignias on some girl's soft skin
to feel the strong clack of the keys as you turn
thoughts into type
i wonder what its like to be with you
while you sleep
to see your eyes flutter as you dream
to feel the twitch of your muscles
to hear the soft sighs of slumber
to be the first thing you see when you wake up
maybe all i want to be is the first person to see
those ******* green eyes open
as you realize your dream has ended
and the day has begun
and there's that girl in your bed again
sorry that im never that girl
sorry that im not your every breath
or the very tips of your fingers
or even the thing you wake up to
but most of all im sorry that you'll never understand
all of which i am saying or feeling
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 3:40 AM UTC
‘I’ve got to go’, the trees said
Twisting their trunks away
I have to get on with fluttering
The birds will need my sway.
‘I must start running’, said river
My banks are dusty and brown
The fishes are waiting for food
Must feed them or they will drown.
‘I will get on’, said the seagulls
Flying over the South-West Coast
There is food floating on the water
And something I see in that boat.
Mr bear looked at his watch
It was nearly half- past four
Said ‘I am really sorry for you’,
But simply can’t take anymore’.
Love Anonomous x
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 10:34 AM UTC
I am
in a
swiney bead
of breast
when tines
are forgotten
with shrines
of cross
that torn
pages now
drift back
to whole
still pick
the seam
those dark
insignias entrust
the norm
May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 8:50 AM UTC
Just met one of my high sisters
a hot battleship blazing light
I opened my gunports in acknowledgement
she flashed backed at me with delight
She so looks like me with all her insignias
another star child is ascending skybound
she told me something funny
she told me, she thought I was dead
I told her for all my worth and pride
yes I am, yet still I reside
I downloaded data to her
twenty thousand years worth
go sister back to the outer worlds
and tell my sisters I still reside on Earth
my sistership is in firm holy order
as I watch starship Hero go skybound
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
tracing the stone throbbing in silence.
they're just shoes.
they're just letters rid of ripostes.
shades fleeting tell no significance.
again, they're just (more than) shoes.
insignias emblazon carnage.
the Earth is prone. it's just land
seeking fill. supine on bed,
it's just
a
land
seeking
fill —
they're just shoes
worn by
flesh and by thinning air.
light toppled on the grave of my fingernail. it's no paroxysm of macabre.
they're just
there, sitting idly,
like beasts in final stands
limned by sudden emergence of woods.
just some
of its non-existence,
my mind's concept of I and
all things refuted
its sorry
plaything.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 11:10 AM UTC
Sonámbula y picante,
mi voz es la gemela
de la canela.
Canela ultramontana
e islamita,
por ella mi experiencia
sigue de señorita.
Criado con ella,
mi alma tomó la forma
de su botella.
Si digo carne o espíritu,
paréceme que el diablo
se ríe del vocablo;
mas nunca vaciló
mi fe si dije «yo».
Yo, varón integral,
nutrido en el panal
de Mahoma
y en el que cuida Roma
en la Mesa Central.
Uno es mi fruto:
vivir en el cogollo
de cada minuto.
Que el milagro se haga,
dejándome aureola
o trayéndome llaga.
No porto insignias
de masón
ni de Caballero
de Colón.
A pesar del moralista
que la asedia
y sobre la comedia
que la traiciona,
es santa mi persona,
santa en el fuego lento
con que dora el altar
y en el remordimiento
del día que se me fue
sin oficiar.
En mis andanzas callejeras
del jeroglífico nocturno,
cuando cada muchacha
entorna sus maderas,
me deja atribulado
su enigma de no ser
ni carne ni pescado.
Aunque toca al poeta
roerse los codos,
vivo la formidable
vida de todas y de todos;
en mí late un pontífice
que todo lo posee
y todo lo bendice;
la dolorosa Naturaleza
sus tres reinos ampara
debajo de mi tiara;
y mi papal instinto
se conmueve
son la ignorancia de la nieve
y la sabiduría del jacinto.
283