"ionosphere" poems
*Diri masusukol an kahirayo han Imo urukyan
Bisan rocket plane pa it akon sakyan
Ha sinirangan ngan katundan ngadto gihap, aadto Ka
Bisan ha Ionosphere man ug ha pinakailarom han tuna
Languyon ko man an bug-os nga Pasipiko
Bisan milyones ka metros diri ak makakaabot ha Imo
Pero mayda ko nasabtan ug saad nga ginkakaptan
Bisan usahay diri ko intawon maintindihan
Nga bisan Ikaw an pinakahitaas han nga tanan
Nagpakaubos Ka para han Imo gugma ha kalibutan
Nga bisan harayo an imo kinabubutangan
Nahirani ka para pirme ko Ikaw madadaupan*
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 8:12 AM UTC
Up at the poles,
towards the north of the north,
in those magical skies,
exists a Goddess called Aurora Borealis.
Full of her vivid electromagnetic charm,
and her luminous green path of pure sheer light,
appeared in my dreams and whispered in my ears,
"Why don't you join me here for a night?"
I said I wish I could but I have a responsibility to bear,
She replied, " C'mon now sweet girl, your job is right here.
Channel your energy through me and I will give you everything you desire."
I agreed to her and closed my eyes,
of course, how would I repudiate the Goddess of Dawn and Ice?
Lifting my head in surprise,
following her line of sight,
far off the velvety night.
She came close to me and whispered, " But what is it that you no longer fear?"
I opened my eyes in surprise to only watch her disappear,
and that is when I realized,
it's time to dream higher than the Ionosphere.
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 12:01 PM UTC
---
this is a day of
high clouds
my mind
roams up to
where they are
in the upper stratosphere
cold christaline skies
a bowl over
the marbled earth
the sky cracked open
revealing the
ionosphere
black as a
stone egg
where stars waited
to be
birthed
soulsurvivor
(c) 5/12/2015
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 3:17 PM UTC
she smells (nameless and shameless)
*a concoction of mixed aromas,
a once in a lifetime scent,
impossible to bottle,
impossible to name,
nameless and shameless
morning coffee, last nights vin rosé,
a come-a-little-closer-tasting for the summer solstice,
the stale of the evening meals of grains and kale,
the sour remains of bedroom sweat,
the displeasing scented sight of
sweat soiled clothes carelessly discarded
the first of the season red spot-stained white peonies
fail to mask the bodies aromatic musks,
which are mostly gender identifiable
my sneakers hail mary, her stockings odorize the atmosphere
most unusually, nylon and lycra are strangely familiar,
prior memorized perhaps, from deep within, a ****** hallelujah,
deep amidst where, the ***** linens are shelved and binned,
before they journey to the Egypt Nile of the basement waters
the burnt crumbs of illegal in-bed brioche toast
amazingly invisible on unclean sheets,
state “breakfast in bed, was yummy in the tummy,
but next time use a big dinner plate,
down here, the burnt of the bread and the burnt
of other things (popcorn pieces)
is just a scratchiest fragrance too far,
needing a sheet wiped clean slate
even the colorless and tasteless water
absorb the ionosphere of smells,
because one does usually speak poetically,
one of us makes a (vice) presidential declaration:
she smells, I man-ually stink, each,
each glower shower nower,
open the window to the spring wet grass aroma fresh cut,
to exhume and then send away
this odor now christened,*
nameless and shameless
11:47 28/4/19
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 10:25 AM UTC
**under my skin
high tension wires
they crackle and singe
the hair on my arms
burning inside
making roadmaps on my
throat and belly
leading
nowhere
the words are singing
an a cappella high note
bursting my eardrums
shattering glass
the fragments shimmer
and filter out into
the ionosphere
hang there
to rival
the
aurora borialis
the words are singing
their song of mermaids
their siren song
i crash on the rocks
i tear the paper
with a
rudderless ship
and the words
skitter
off the page
like lizards**
soulsurvivor
(c) 6/6/2015
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 2:49 PM UTC
What to do when you’ve got the blues
Was it me or is it you
My plans are simple
To love life and be loved too
Their must be some kinds of deception
For you must love life and need one too
Or be one of
Billions of bricks in a grand pyramid scheme
But where in the mirror thee one on top
Is the one of thee ruse
Whom is under all
And who saves all fooled
Is there one among you who is more
Or less than precious you
Come on you’all
What would you be kidding me for
Like my lies to and about you
Like I could live without you
And rather forget or shout rat at ya
Have you scrounge through ******* that ye’
may you eat
or wire tie tire scraps to the souls of your feet
For we’ve come such a long way
To be here today
While it’s not been to long
Or far to go with squabble, plunder, resource **** and plow it under
That climates are for shifting
Seasons without reasons
Masses are off for the drifting
Our earth without our gratitude we sure aren’t 'a pleasin’
Thee oceanic cradle of conception 'tis sewer now
Like could I be without thee sky above me
Would thee auto or truck eat the one last bean
And every brick without a home
Not a hunting ground
Some tillable earth or seed to sow
Toxic fish in the untamable sea
And She will do as she wants
She will do as she needs
She’ll easily come and suddenly recede
Upon her eggshell basin we drill siphon pump poison and bleed
We blow holes in the ionosphere
Magnetic shifts and solar flairs
Does our wild kingdom wish us well
Or rather see us off into exile from our hells
Of dust bowls and Goodyear treads to save our souls
Journey on wayward ones
Is not a thing sacred not a one
Holy liars say anti-christ better hurry fast
So saviors come to condemn our past
And free us from, to us what’s been done
Seven say there is the Savior
And six are sick evil ones
And we can not agree of the one
Seven times to the nth degree is what we will need
Till our actions are thee savings grace
As Great Exemplars have professed
Each of us must overcome
And Holy Creature become
In the stregnth of forgiveness
We undo to thee and us done
We are the ones to feel to see
That Love is the fire
Which is pure bravery
You forge in the now
Without the forgetting
Tomorrows you desire
Where love will rise
And set as thee One in all
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 9:23 PM UTC
We spent a day in space
because the Hendersons did it last month,
and the Jeffreys the week before that.
It was all they talked about at dinner
and their eyes sparkled
in a way I hadn't seen before.
You can pack light.
It's only a day, after all.
Maria and the kids were nervous
but I told them not to worry,
just to concentrate on the in-flight movie.
The kid in the seat behind
kept kicking my chair,
which was annoying.
To be honest
it was just like a normal flight at first,
out the window gazing
at the other shuttles coming home,
pressed into your seat
by the g-force.
But then you break through the ionosphere
and you're weightless.
It's quite cool.
Jessica got some good pictures of Earth.
I was looking at the floating stewardess, mostly.
It's one of those things, though -
you can't really appreciate it when it's happening.
You have to look back on it.
I'm pretty sure the grandeur,
the magnificence of human ingenuity
and the joy of returning to Mother Earth's comforting embrace
Will hit me any day now.
Excuse me, my phone's ringing.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 6:37 AM UTC
I desire to enfold you in my adoration
My senses are enslaved to jasmine and your skin, covered in symbols
Please, do not ask me to leave
Feel me open the door to your inner warmth
Elicit sympathetic gyrations, by stimulating your flesh
You lost your innocence long ago
Let me antagonize your lust
Imprison you within my embrace,
Increase the pace of your pulse,
Elevate your heart rate,
Coat your whole body in sweat,
And **** screams from your depths.
The sun will wane in the evening
And we will harvest satisfaction on my bed
And we will rise like the moon,
and drink the shine she provides
We will remake each other, a thousand ways
And cast our inhibitions out the window,
And get lost in the maze of each others bodies.
You will die, and be reborn, in the flash of a quasar,
We will cultivate and devour the fruits of our joining.
We will set the controls for the heart of the sun
Come rise with me, into the ionosphere,
Do not fear the suffocating void
I will give my lungs to you,
Each breath belongs to you already.
Aug 17, 2012
Aug 17, 2012 at 1:23 PM UTC
I've been killing these verses for years
Better put my feet up, have a few beers
Better raise your glass, cheers
I've got a huge brain between my ears
The one that vanquished all of my fears
The one that seen me through all the tears
While I'm thankful for most of my peers
Others tried to stab me with words like spears
Thought they could control me like puppeteers
Just when they thought I would disappear
Laughter is all they could hear
That is when I would reappear
And be all like "I'm here"
And they'd be all like "Oh, Dear!"
And I'd be all like let's change gear
Tell me was that crystal clear?
Why does it feel like I'm in the Ionosphere
Well some of these peeps are quite the racketeer
Shame they'll never breathe freely in my atmosphere
gee **** listen up kid
I think I just ruined it.
Dec 19, 2018
Dec 19, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
Imagine,
Imagine, heaven and earth,
Earth and hell.
Heaven?
It's up there.
Ionosphere, maybe.
Or maybe, Exosphere.
Think of Pangaea and Panthalassa.
Imagine, the lost world of Atlantis.
Geography students would know better.
Imagine,
Imagine good, and bad,
Bad, and worse.
Imagine, if your name were not,
What it is,
Imagine, if you were not,
What you are.
Imagine, delivering fantastic speeches,
Craft out, mesmerising poetries,
Look for topics,
Like you look for alloys,
In your wallet.
Everyone's a poet,
Poet, in their hearts,
They do write poems,
But the designer styli,
Defy to converge their thoughts.
Summarize life,
Felicity, will obviously be wrapped up,
And so will be your bad.
And try, and minimize your bad,
To the least,
Like you do with your savings,
On a rave.
And try, and amplify your bliss,
Like your cells multiply,
In every thirty minutes.
Imagine,
Imagine, and fall.
Fall, for every beautiful face,
Fall, for every beautiful day,
And moment.
Imagine,
And spread love.
Imagine,
Imagine, and fall,
Into an abyss,
Of thoughts,
Every single day,
Every single time.
Imagine,
The bald guy,
On our currency notes,
Smiling, at whatever number there is by him.
Smile, at whatever is given to you,
Smile, for whatever is given to you.
Smile,
And just that.
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 11:28 AM UTC
God has given us the earth
To take up refuge
But yet in all staidness
In this home of ours
We human beings
Have been very poor tenants
Take a look around
Scope out the view
Our dying ionosphere
From our constant pollution
Our disengaging ozone layer
Which protects us
From the sun's burning rays
When they someday disappear
From existence
We will all be doomed
Becoming trillions of pieces
Of human bacon
On a global skillet
Take another good view
Of our plants and animals
What all they do for us
And what we lack to do for them
We have killed so many
Many which have met extinction
Our precious plants and animals
Are leaving us one by one
Day after day
Year after year
Soon we will have nothing
Left to our name
Even the water
Is becoming unsafe to ingest
Some places it has been that way
For centuries of time
But why is it hard for us
To remedy
To refresh
To replenish
Our only home
One we can never move from
Why destroy so much life
When we can make it better
Oil is scarce
Natural gas rises from asphalt
Everything is dying
And soon so will we
Change will never come
The damage is done
Oxygenation is so depleted
Soon will be no resources
For us to live off of
Because our dishes aren't clean
Our rooms are so *****
Our floors need vacuuming
Our walls peel valuable paint
Our vents are clogged dramatically
In the air lives dangerous molecules
Speckles of death floating airborne
Also we further the damage
To our already destroyed home
By the chemical warfare
The biological weaponry
Created by the minds
Which are here to help keep up
The exuberance of our home
As does the war of countries
Our rediculous governments
Ensuring war upon us
So called humble housekeepers
Which allow blood and destruction
To overtake our abode
To make our predecessors
Turn in their graves
To make our God *****
A sandstorm of anger and disgrace
We don't deserve to live here
We have not pleased him
We have not pleased each other
We have only inflicted damage
And so much pain
To our home
God deliver us please
Bring us up to par
Or this corrupted home
You gave us to live in
Will be dead and gone forever...
©Michael P. Smith
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 12:20 AM UTC
... under my skin
High tension wires
They crackle, singeing
The hairs on my arms and
Burning roadmaps
On my throat and belly
The words are singing...
... an acappella high note
Searing the eardrums
Breaking the crystal
While the rose lies
wet on the table
Fragments spark the
Ionosphere
Hanging to rival the
Aurora Borialis
The words are singing...
Their siren song
I wreck on the rocks
I tear the page with
rudderless penmanship
The words are singing...
And they skitter off
The page like
lizards
SøułSurvivør
(C) 6/8/2017
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 5:46 AM UTC
a concoction of mixed aromas,
a once in a lifetime scent,
impossible to bottle,
impossible to name,
nameless and shameless
morning coffee, last nights vin rosé,
a come-on tasting for the summer coming,
the stale of the evening meals of grains and kale,
the sour remains of bedroom sweat,
the displeasing scented sight of
sweat soiled clothes carelessly discarded
the first of the season red stained white peonies
fail to mask the bodies aromatic musks,
which are gender identifiable
my sneakers hail mary, her stockings odorize the atmosphere
most unusually, nylon and lycra are strangely familiar,
prior memorized perhaps, from deep within,
deep amidst where, the ***** linens are shelved and binned,
before they journey to the Egypt of the basement
the burnt crumbs of illegal brioche toast
hidden on unclean sheets,
state “breakfast in bed,
is yummy in the tummy,
but next time use a big dinner plate,
down here, the burnt of the bread and the burnt
of other things is just a fragrance too far
even the colorless and tasteless water
absorb the ionosphere of smells,
because one does usually speak poetically,
make a vice presidential declaration:
she smells, I manually stink, each, glower shower, nower,
open the window to the spring wet grass,
exhume and send away this odor now christened,
nameless and shameless
11:47 28/4/19
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 11:51 AM UTC
A penny for the thoughts of a prat ne'er -do-well could easily garner a million dollars from the wishing well !
The riffraffs field of dreams , vividly troubled , hurried minds with selective memories of the upmost variety ! Collective apparitions rendered due diligence ? Befuddled reasoning with questionable significance !
If a kite high in the sky was their imagination it would lie in the ionosphere invisible to all of us
Incredible tales of brave armored horsemen , fighting dragons , extraterrestrial warships ! Lunchtime by the mountains of Mars and Venus , catching twenty winks in the Little Dipper ? Riding on a comet to the Horse Nebula , hopping from rock to rock in the Asteroid Belt ?
Beware of the creative mind with their allegations , tales that could usurp the kingdoms Court Jester !
I've zero tolerance today for fools , little green men , martians and the man on the moon ?
For I've a prior commitment this late afternoon , a spot of tea with an old chum on the plains of Neptune !
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
~ encore un autre, inspiré par Sally B.~
another poem excised from an
interdepartmental message from
The Dept of Poets, (Global), a
ridiculous thot mine, deserving of
removal, remorse and regret,
(modern human’s woke 3 r’s)
nonetheless deserved of exegesis,
mainly because I think so…
Surficially, I comprehend that of the bones,
of the billions of those who have gone to
their where~ever, if could speak. we would
require a huge commitment to building out
our cell phone networks, the best comm
tool, for portability between differing
dimensions, times and spaces
let us cut to the chase (thank god),
my bones shall be without a doubt
return to a granular dust, my minerals
contributing to some future breakfast
cereal, thus assuring my recirculated
inspiration for generations to come(?),
acknowledging that my “gifts” are
the product of apriori Jews who wandered
this planet, forever rootless and semi-
displaced by their haters for reasons
that have nothing to do with reason
By way of my gratitude that you have read
so far, hopefully to continue, let me assure
you that this P. will not trend, nor spit or spot
or high lighted, as it’s worth is as fleeting as my bones, when one dwells on the size of space expanding and the time & space
continuum
that disclaimer claimed, we breathe easier,
and I happier, and now at last to the meat
of the matter:
My poems will wither, and eventually their
ions will be erased when the internet servers
undergo the many purges that yet will come
(better this than purging people)
yes, my ego’s cells, which one of you will
no doubt will imbibe and perhaps????
imbue, may actually reappear in a newness,
in a refreshing refreshment, that some Believers will think is absolutely brand new
(which it won’t be), for the new treads are on
the old treads, only now, dug a little deeper,
and I, in my ionosphere, inside my cells
yet within you, will muse amusedly,
“there is nothing new under the sun” (1)
but the sun will be shining and that is
good enough for all of us
Nov. 23
9:04 am
nyC
Nov 23, 2024
Nov 23, 2024 at 11:26 AM UTC
School children walk by in their dirtied rugby kits
as a reminder that it only takes five years for
inertia to calcify and turn into a state of mind.
I smoke by the front door, ear to the hallway
in case a phone call comes from the government,
lending me money so that I can break up the days.
There is no need to change. No reason to pull out
of these clothes and take to window shopping
in the market town of charity shops and fast food.
My bed is full of crescent moons in nightcaps
and faceless stars, sewn together in Indonesia,
some small hands that gave me a comfort which
faded through wash cycles and pill-drawn sleep.
I have given myself to application forms and binary,
Yes/No answers to my heritage and right to work.
All I can do is lie exhausted in the night sky,
draw the curtains from daylight, and hope that
poetry is enough to punctuate the afternoon.
I thought depression was a creative drama;
a way to filter reality into a thousand petalled lotus
flower that blooms through broken skin and sends
algae past the ionosphere and into the breathless
lung of space. There is caffeine for food and boiled
sweets to give the sensation of mint and sugar.
I thought depression was a poet's ultimate muse.
I thought depression brought the most peaceful sleep.
I thought happiness came in basaltic columns,
echo chambers that sang with water flutes and
siren songs. I thought that I would find the current,
lengthen my back, and then float to dry land.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
I HATE IT.
I HATE THIS.
I HATE HIM WHOM I HAVE TO MOURN FOR.
I HATE IT. I HATE THIS.
I HATE THE WAY IN WHICH WICKED IS BAD.
I HATE IT. I HATE THIS.
I HATE PREFORMATIVITY.
I HATE MOST THAT I WRITE THIS.
I HATE IT. I HATE THIS.
I HATE THAT MY ICONS ARE DEAD.
I HATE IT. I HATE THIS.
I HATE THAT I’M BEGGING FOR MORE.
I HATE IT. I HATE THIS.
I HATE THAT I HAVE TO CHOOSE.
I HATE, FOR WHAT I WAS DESTINED IS TAINTED.
I HATE IT. I HARE THIS.
I HATE THEM WHOM I HAVE TO MOURN FOR.
I HATE IT. I HATE THIS.
I HATE THAT I CAN’T GO BACK. BACK TO THE ZYGOTE, TO THE GRECIAN AGE, TO A LAND WITHOUT EARS.
I HATE IT. I HATE THIS.
I HATE HER WHOM I HAVE TO MOURN FOR.
I HATE IT. I HATE THIS.
I DON’T WANT TO BE WICKED.
I HATE IT. I HATE THIS.
I HATE XIR WHO I HAVE TO MOURN FOR.
I HATE IT. I HATE THIS.
I HATE THAT STEEPED IN PAIN I AM SUPPOSED TO TRANSFORM.
TO SHINE BRIGHT. TO DROWN AND SURVIVE.
I rise in wrath, sadness, regret. Balletic and vile, dipped in warmth. Lifeless, like milk teeth. Tar, sits vast beneath my feet.
I am all. All the ways that it hurts plus the beauty. Padded shoulders, green and purple.
I will never be complete.
Dancing beings underneath the evening stars, stretched out ionosphere, elastic, ecstatic. Paused yet stillmoving.
I am black, pointed. Free, stillinchains. A dripping matriarch. A reflection transcendent, moss-filled and fed up. Afraid.
Stylish metalwork, animation and formlessness.Wilted and strong. Lilac, xir name.
Protect these ribs from that strain.
The thoughts unexplained.
Protect the clothes never worn. And the freedom forgotten.
Protect me.
For I still hope to be forgotten.
Dec 6, 2019
Dec 6, 2019 at 12:58 AM UTC
Easier said than done
Applause if you can do this
Take a bow
Selfish people have never been my cup of tea
They never will be
Their noses are in the stratosphere or ionosphere
You can be poor and be selfish too
Whatever their consequences are so be it
Surrounding oneself with people like that unnerves me
Where is the exit door?
Snobs just don't cut it with me
Happy and lovely caring people are in my life
Mar 11, 2025
Mar 11, 2025 at 5:01 PM UTC