"levitating" poems
I'm writing this poem to be ignored
like many of you
I enjoy being a poet
of keen irrelevance
a literary luminaire
of solitude
a lost writing ghost
a megalomaniac haunting himself
a waiting oracle
waiting
for the occult muse door mouse to tap dance
whispering night babble
or having a cooked chicken fly into my mouth
while i take searing snapshots
of erratic images
puzzling them into words
from boundless burdens
of heaping intestinal bluesy aftermaths exodus of conscience
bruising my self like a ********* in heat
on out of control run-on rants
and blood razor drenched mysticism
while real men drive earth movers
drink bruskies
and kick ***
hustling time share Chinese handcuff contracts
and up sell social justice platitudes
fit for pie in the sky levitating hysteria
lives shatter like red ice
in endless cacophonies of skull clobbering effacement
I'm writing this poem to be ignored
and no one lets me down
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 3:32 PM UTC
*If aggravated
frustrated
Turn down
your anger*
Switch to the soulful relaxation
*and dance
to smooth
waves*
Let your mind free
*loving
your
body*
chilled out
*soul
loving
life*
Superlaciously Levitating
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 9:52 AM UTC
If you were literature
I'd tattoo you all over me
and let you seep through my skin
filling my veins with your words.
There are a lot of pieces that make up the English language:
capitals, semicolons, that ******* Oxford comma
but you,
you give english a definition.
Love, when you speak to me
I see the word bubbles levitating above your head
pinning down each sentence with fragments of your voice
your lips form stories,
the kind I actually like reading
the poems that leave me wanting more
and trust me
I DO WANT MORE.
But I'm Dr. Suess
and you are Shakespear.
I'm sorry, I'm not what you deserve
that my lines are crooked
and pages wrinkled
that you deserve heavenly white sheets
to share the curvature of your letters with
If only I could hold the spiral notebook that is you
caress your leather cover
I would whisper all the definitions
inscribed in my brain associated with your existence,
trying to untangle the string of words you knotted.
But reality isn't written.
I cannot serenade you with my words
you will forever be on top of this modern caste system
and there are no ladders
how can I talk to you at a football game
when you're the one on the field
that today is survival of the fittest,
if someone were to take you into their arms
it would boost their reputation,
but you are not my reputation
You are the language I want to speak
You are the lyrics to every song
You are all my favorite words.
And yes, I may just be the
routinely period at the end of your sentences
and the chances of being with you shouldn't even be considered
"chances"
but since someone such as you exists,
I can promise.
I can promise you
all these imperfect sweet nothings
until my pen runs out of ink.
Always.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
Gotta carry a .40 with me everywhere i go
So i can protect her property and let it blow
Whenever there's a person who wants to be a splatted roach
Touch me and I'm not afraid to glow
Sparks levitating in the air you'd think you saw a ghost
She keeps me grounded but my mind's in space at most
Enough with that happy **** I'm back to norm
I'm starting to think I won't be here for long
Mind acts like its not my own, then i get prone
To mind manipulation tactics on a low
I usually write free verses but tonight imma switch the flow
Forced to change my style cause I'm here for the show
I watch her stack her luggage on my door
I'll gladly take it in but slow
I know she was sent by God on a low
From the heavens she dropped
In the end it all comes down to Him
....
Wouldn't doubt him for a second i know
Aug 18, 2021
Aug 18, 2021 at 10:24 AM UTC
Amethyst dew drop
Eyelash down
Full lip up-turned
Pink, glossy, round
Glitzy green sheen
On my half moon lid
Prism bright stud
Like the Luxor crown
Slightly levitating
Pierced, royal, proud
Skin luminating
Glowing from within
Golden, honey, brown sugar
Streams of gold and brown
I dance like a moonbeam
I dance like the sun
I dance like a star in flight
I dance on the run
I won't let a single man
Take this glow from me
He did it once
He did it twice
Three times
Shame on me
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
Scared, to let the words die, he hid, amid the languid luxuries of solitary structuring, lavished of the jaded and anguished lines, for lines melodrama, of the deviled days, of state, of mind, in fate, in kind, of the nether commas, devoid in honest ignorance of written words, dying on the caterpillars, cocooned, in all that's assumed, lost, in metamorphosis, never knowing this, is a dream, within a dream, of hope, clinging with stinging fingertips, ears ringing in the ripplits of a synesthesic pulse of visual signals, subliminally sounding the sirens, of solidarity, in the silent screams, of the sun rising, writhing in wanton seduction of my functions laying the heartened words of dead birds, falling from the sky, hardened in sloven cries, to justify, the means, tapping out on the screens, of a misnomer, a loner, in a coma, phoning you from the corner to warn ya, of the storm, in words prone to patience, in imaginit immaculance of the limitless limits, of livid lovers loving each-others lullabies, lolly-gagging in the illegibility, of our lucidity in the pity of leveled lofts, lovely-ly, levitating in elevating thought, fraught with passionate poetry, of ghostly words, blurred in the debilitating reasoning of reasonable reason, seasonally.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 2:14 AM UTC
my breakfast of thesaurus
and chorus.
as to not miss
that quick bliss,
moment
of genius.
forcing wit; i’m done with it.
i lay in bed and moan:
"mouth was a blue sash of rain
raining convocations of flesh."
like Sonia Sanchez said in her poem
to Nina Simone.
“owls coo, only see blue,
and through storm windows,
they yawn like nothing’s new."
what did my words just do to you?
i hate all the rhyming
all the timing.
the
whining.
all this meditating
and levitating.
but if you don’t swat the fly,
you become the fly.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 8:40 AM UTC
Sometimes I look up at the sky
I wonder if simultaneously you are too lucid dreams of levitating through these walls and coming back to you
Our souls dance in circles around the sun beating with the sound of our hearts in perfect unison
The moon envys our energy
Mars red from how we move in rings around Saturn
The way we melt into one you’d think we were made from mercury
But the God of Neptune exclaimed we’re fresh like the bay or sea my waves to your sand pulled you close to me
A Venus fly trap opening up for the fly Uranus stopped and stared and even dropped a tear before I returned to my bed a lightning bolt appeared must of been Jupiter the God of the sky ripping us away
It’s punishment for noise we made above where he stays.
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 12:22 PM UTC
Sometimes Smith has no idea of what’s happening
Whether the ground below is vanishing away from his feet
Or he is just levitating past the skyscrapers
Smith has a good book
There he reads about a great artist
A con artist to be precise and all his sadistic puzzles
Smith tries to wake up, thinking he is still dreaming
Because the artist’s puzzles are still at large
How is he that successful? He has vast architectural knowledge
Knowledge enough to create ever-tricky mazes
Only the divine can fix the con’s jigsaw
And sometimes those with the divine touch show flaws
The con creates a series of optical and mental illusions
Illusions great enough to make you think there’s no divine being and even make you believe there’s no con
Smith wonders why the bad escape and the good suffer
Sometimes he gets trapped in his mind, thinking of the **** luscious mermaids and geisha girls
He is able to ignore them sometimes
But barely escape them and their never ending charm, on a very lustful day
The con artist sits in his empire and literally tries to get people stuff two plugs together or merge two sockets together.
That is a sick idea!
The con keeps smith wondering in delusions
He hides under the disguise of light
When the divine light shines, it melts off Smith’s saturated delusions
And restores him to reality
With the light he can see, you can see
How the con poses monsters as **** pretty ladies, heat as comfort, graves as castles, blasphemy as thanksgiving.
How he tries to make people monopolise the power of the divine
Sweet in vanity
In the end the divine light blinds the con artist and all those gleaming eyes in the dead dark
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 2:59 PM UTC
The night I met my Soul spark, O he was sucha cosmic twin flame to see. Stared into sky eyes that left me not knowing what to do. Words are found speechless and my breath I tried to catch as my Soul spark laid flickering by candle light is where we first met. Time stopped around us as we glowed in our own flame's light and gave me a new found meaning to love at it's very first sight. His skin draped over beautifully to the light body inside and I traced my fingertips over him to feel that his felt just like mine. We danced our first waltz, something of our very own flow and had me levitating towards the ceiling like a light-diamond rainbow. Waited so long to hold my Soul spark that now it feels like a dream. Our moment came and went so quickly like a shooting star you almost didn't see.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 2:56 AM UTC
Phone rings, only breathing
Landlord yelling, dog barking,
Mexican music, nosey neighbors
Long cigarette and goodbye girl
She’s absent and she’s catatonic
She’s boiling in unwanted fever
She hums as she irons unplugged
She hums as she cleans up the blood
She’s levitating against her will
She’s nailing the door shut with a candle
She’s rolling him up in a carpet
Yeah, your high horse and your sports
Are just heavy metaphors
For something a lot sweatier
****** Made Her Menstrual
You supplied the weapons
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 8:16 PM UTC
Southern Icarus
by Michael R. Burch
Windborne, lover of heights,
unspooled from the truck’s wildly lurching embrace
you climb, skittish kite ...
What do you know of the world’s despair,
gliding in vast solitariness there
so that all that remains is to
fall?
Only a little longer the wind invests its sighs;
you stall
spread-eagled as the canvas snaps
and ***** its white rebellious wings,
and all
the houses watch with baffled eyes.
Originally published by Poetry Porch. Keywords/Tags: Icarus, flight, flying, hang-gliding, kite, glider, wind, canvas, South, southern, truck, unspooled
Note: The following poem unites Icarus with Tom O'Bedlam in a final, magical quest ...
Finally to Burn
(the Fall and Resurrection of Icarus)
by Michael R. Burch
I.
Athena takes me
sometimes by the hand
and we go levitating
through strange Dreamlands
where Apollo sleeps
in his dark forgetting
and Passion seems
like a wise bloodletting
and all I remember
—upon awaking—
is: to Love sometimes
is like forsaking
one’s Being—to glide
heroically beyond thought,
forsaking the here
for the There and the Not.
II.
O, finally to Burn,
gravity beyond escaping!
To plummet is Bliss
when the blisters breaking
rain down red scabs
on the earth’s mudpuddle...
Feathers and wax
and the watchers huddle...
Flocculent sheep,
O, and innocent lambs!
I will rock me to sleep
on the waves’ iambs.
III.
To Sleep, that is Bliss
in Love’s recursive Dream,
for the Night has Wings
pallid as moonbeams—
they will flit me to Life,
like a huge-eyed Phoenix
fluttering off
to quarry the Sphinx.
IV.
Riddlemethis,
riddlemethat,
Rynosseross,
throw out the Welcome Mat.
Quixotic, I seek Love
amid the tarnished
rusted-out steel
when to live is varnish.
To Dream—that’s the thing!
Aye, that Genie I’ll rub,
soak by the candle,
aflame in the tub.
V.
Riddlemethis,
riddlemethat,
Rynosseross,
throw out the Welcome Mat.
Somewhither, somewhither
aglitter and strange,
we must moult off all knowledge
or perish caged.
VI.
I am reconciled to Life
somewhere beyond thought—
I’ll Live in the There,
I’ll Dream of the Naught.
Methinks it no journey;
to tarry’s a waste,
so fatten the oxen;
make a nice baste.
I’m coming, Fool Tom,
we have Somewhere to Go,
though we injure noone,
ourselves wildaglow.
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 3:57 AM UTC
i'm a nomad gone defective,
heart attack erased, amended.
i'm a dead leaf riding the crest of the wind,
marking time by exs and favorite beverages.
i carry on the bluebird's song,
whisper nothings aside from sweet.
you planted me within your sheets,
green grow the leaves, winter, good luck with your war.
let needle perpetually lock in groove,
white wine nights that turn into levitating sunrises.
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 10:07 AM UTC
in a dark autumn forest, five creatures
strangely glow, cold peaked ears are blue,
rhythms of thudding, scudding boots
full of youth, synchronized they run,
outlined in neon, nearly covered in fur,
running amok in the hungry dark.
what do they search for in the dark?
all keening, these tempestuous creatures.
what propels them? what makes their fur
stand on end? faces an oxygen-less blue
as arms are locked and strong legs run
with the heavy monotony of feet in boots.
driven by laughter and labored breath, boots
thunder up dewy hills, disturbing the dark
loam underfoot, disheveled as the wind runs
through and into and throughout these creatures,
and the trees, and the strange aura of blue
surrounding a juggling man with hair like wolf fur.
he is levitating, has eyes like a burning fur-
nace, is manipulating boxes of light, wears boots
that make him seven feet tall, his is the blue
of martyrs, of imagination sacrificed to dark
forces, alight like clicking live wires the creatures
tumble on, finding a new reason to run
toward a long, narrow, white hallway they run
across an empty street, a nearby raccoon's fur
bristles as they break all boundaries, these creatures,
all sharp claws and fearless teeth and stomping boots,
assault the stillness of closed doors and early dark
morning eyes just beginning to distinguish the blue
of the sun's prologue, a deep and melancholy blue.
charging the hall doors, they dance and thump and run
down the shadowed interior, adjacent rooms dark
but for the lights of the lonely and static cat fur.
on wooden floors the cacophonic burst of boots
rumble like wild animal's hooves, here come the creatures!
and as the sun illumines dark corners in orange and blue,
through untidy mists these creatures continue to run,
all flailing limbs and matted fur and brawling boots.
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 3:15 AM UTC
Veteran of the darkness.
Willing to confess.
Did you see my heart break?
Can you see my body shake?
Do you see me levitate?
Levitate from you.
Creatures that like to creep.
The lonely tears that I weep.
Just why can't you save me?
Your the love that I need!
I had a chance of a happy fate.
Till death showed up in my face.
This necklace that I hang from.
Is tightening its grip on me.
The is gold cutting into me.
My blood drips on the floor.
I see you at the door.
I take these pills to rescue me.
How many should I take?
Ten, or the whole **** thing?!
Now that I've confessed.
Will you just take my hand?
Just pull me into you.
Just tell me that I'm needed.
Tell them I'm important.
Just tell me that you love me….
I need too feel loved.
Like the way you love her.
But no.
You take her hand and hold it tightly.
You pull her into you and hold her.
You tell her that she is important..
You tell -her- you love her.
And now my chest heaves.
As this knife takes me.
As these creatures eat me.
As the gold cuts me.
As my body shake, my heart breaks.
As I levitate.
As I cry.
Without you…
WIthout my soul…
Without your warmth…
Without both of our saints…
Now you can hear my glass heart breaking.
My hands buzz harder.
As my body shakes harsher.
Im levitating higher.
My legs dangling in the air.
Because I am a veteran.
And I was willing to confess.
Of all the things I have said.
All these sins are true.
But now my life is overdue.
Leaving you and her alone forever.
My mind; severely corrupted.
Now the tread is about to sever.
It breaks; falling to my demise.
Im dying because I told you the truth.
But only if you can save me…
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
Gravity...
Has the guilt of my everything.
Forbiding the only chance to be free,
Chaining my thoughts to the ground.
Hysterical laughs on charcoal leaves flew around,
Disturbing serene sadness of my glee.
Awaken worlds in life's little things
Forsake my tender thoughts to the nothingness wings
Dissipating with velocity
In the hands of Gravity.
Gravity...
It's like an occult religion
With all its strange ways.
Devouring miscellanous levitating dreams
Spreading mercyless comtempt to the ones on the banned brims -
The ones who dared to fly on the Sun's sacred rays.
Gravity is the vermillion
Murderer of all the ancient hopes fallen in the
Slush of eternity.
I've been cursed forever
With the evanescent living...
I've been forbided to say "never";
But my words flew anxiously away...through the ceiling
Despite Gravity.
Nov 21, 2010
Nov 21, 2010 at 7:55 AM UTC
silver lines the trees
and gold lines the skies belly
strip of pink azure highlight the docile clouds
as the pine forests rise up all around
a mist devours the eye line
and as it does cloaks my clock
time stops
it doesn't exist here
no more are we bound to the slave driver of 24 hour monotony
but the metronome strikes one
two
three
minus seven
plus twentyfive cupcakes
filled with a blackberry light jam capable of aiding in levitating your shoes
the mist unfurls
and a mountain peak emerges as i run towards the ever rolling stones
that gather no moss
but pass
by the chicken and chip shops to wards
green earthyness
and fresh produce
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 12:11 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, find peace but don't forget your journey to that---old draft :-:
being no one is embarrassing
everyone becomes null in everything
put the mean
in a meaning to steam
but nothingness is a two edged sword
when levitating a meaningless world
adopting the faces into my timeline for glasses to erupt in aware
speak for themselves my thoughts of clears and fair
notice my dares and hesitates
when it comes to the memories of them fades and unfades
want the roses to bloom
for the awake of the kills and dooms
take a breath
shake life's hand against death
tongues speak
although aimless word disguise is chic
an invisible devotion
about surviving chaotic commotion
-----ravenfeels
Aug 1, 2021
Aug 1, 2021 at 6:06 PM UTC
The Hills went driving
All over the highway
Didn't care much for timing
Up and down cracked roads
The lights overhead shined bright
She wanted to know (confusion)
He already did (premonition)
And so they kept on going
The tires, they kept rolling
The bright lights kept glowing
He loved her so much
Never would hurt her
Was fueled by her touch
But then they touched her
Swept away and they never saw it coming
She noticed first that they were levitating
A consciousness forever confiscating
They both felt the presence of the stars
Locked away in their messy little car
Before they knew it, they were in it
And before they could do it, they already did it
Changed forever and all I got was this stupid illness
Heading to the doctor to find out what the **** this sickness is
And it's all always the same old story
So I'll just end here for fear of being boring
But it's true
The Hills are anew
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 8:06 AM UTC
I found myself on a cloud.
Surfing the skies with the wind on my hair and life in my veins.
I knew the trip had to reach and end, but I never knew when.
And so the day came when the trip ended.
The cloud just vanished under my feet, and I fell,
and fell,
and fell,
but just as I was about to hit the ground
a strange force kept me from it.
I wasn't moving.
I was just levitating.
Not in the sky anymore, but not dead either.
Numbness surrounded me.
A cold chill invaded my body, and I shivered.
I was gently laid on the ground, and lights went out.
Darkness.
Silence.
Not a sound was heard. Not even the beating of my heart.
Suddenly a bright light pierced my eyes.
When I could see again, a feminine silhouette was drawn before me
yet I could not see who it was.
She lent a hand.
I grabbed it, and she helped me up.
She spoke to me in the sweetest voice.
Singing like a choir of angels.
I felt safe again.
She wrapped her arms around me.
Her skin as smooth as silk, her touch as protective as a mother's.
I was safe again.
She flashed a smile,
but then it all faded to black.
I woke up... alone.
No one near my hospital bed, but something caught my eye.
A "get well soon" card next to some flowers in fresh water.
Again I felt warm, happy, alive.
My journey had reached it's end, but I was safe again.
It was safe to begin a new journey.
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 3:59 PM UTC
Happiness forced down her throat
With just a little bit of water
Cosmic Love beckoned her eardrums
To a sandy beach in Guanaja
But not really
Waves of relaxation
As she swayed back and forth
With the wind she imagined
Blowing through her damaged hair
Lights
Lights
Lights
Her body was a serpent
Slithering like the music in her ears
Soul on fire
Eyes like the earth
She painted chaos
With just her fingertips
Alone in the dark
High as a cathedral ceiling
Wandering home
To thoughts of his lips
Butterflies
And ladybugs and fireflies
Smoke
Escaped cracked lips
Happy when she’s high
Happy when her mind
Wanders home
But for now
Levitating
Without her magician
By her side
Alone
Dazed
But happy
Home in just the blink
Of a dilated eye
The dark was all too familiar
And the calls came farther and farther apart
.
But just like that
She was home again
In the blink of a dilated eye
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC
I used to look out the window,
and see the city scrawled out beneath me.
I used to see birds fly and imagine myself
with them,
no boundaries to my flight.
Maybe having my head too far up in the clouds,
lifted my feet from the ground.
And as I stood there, gently levitating,
the shaking earth took away everything.
Now, I'm a crumpled mess on the ground.
It hurts my eyes to look up at the sun.
Looking out the window shows only
a brick wall, a barrier to my imagination.
The birds have betrayed me, so has the sky-
the Earth has chained me to herself.
My wings have been ripped off,
even before they ever sprouted.
___
______
___
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 11:21 AM UTC
A farmhouse in Iowa
Eight people killed with an ax
The killer never caught
These are just the facts
It happened a hundred years ago
On that fateful night
All killed in there beds
didn't put up a fight
They say the place is haunted
Go there if you dare
My wife and I are ghost hunters
Not easy to scare
We decided to spend the night
No one there but us
What would happen next
I'm reluctant to discuss
Voices of children talking
Are some of the things you'll hear
Objects levitating off the floor
Can give you quite a fear
I'm seeing things
I couldn't believe
Are my eyes
Trying to deceive?
Unseen entity
Tugging on my shirt
Starting to get worried
Don't want to get hurt
Everything I told you
Is honest and true
We spent the night alone there
I wonder would you?
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC