"macrocosm" poems
#An Exegesis on the Humiliation of the Word
The world is ruled by darkness.
What appears as harmless is theater,
what pretends neutral is already bent.
The macrocosm corrodes;
and in the microcosm, its reflection gleams..
even in places meant to be sanctuaries of truth.
A poetry site,
born as refuge for broken voices,
becomes another stage of control.
Here too the phrase resounds:
neutralize the threat.
But neutralization is not annihilation.
It is paralysis.
It is psy-ops.
It is the removal of anxiety..
not a side-effect, but the aim itself.
Darkness builds its stage for this alone:
that the "angel of light"
may drown his own reckoning
beneath a world of deception-built self comfort,
so he need never feel
the truth he already knows.
Comfort is his curtain,
numbness his crown..
*the removal of his own anxiety;
his game.*
This is why the world is his theater--
*Darkness does not destroy at first..
it sedates, comforts, smothers.*
Hence..
The whole world is his fully gaslit stronghold,
..for now.
Fade back into the moment--
The young poet arrives,
bringing her unspoken pain,
her hope for words to heal.
Instead, her very wounds are seized as footholds.
Hearts. Reposts. Endless affirmation.
Not to strengthen her voice,
but to redirect it.
She is seduced into belonging,
and her trauma becomes currency.
Unresolved, her ache entwined with lust--
a sacrifice prepared for false altars.
The angel of light has done his work:
offering inclusion without transformation,
belonging without responsibility,
“light” without source.
The poet is neutralized.
Her searching silenced,
her voice absorbed into fog.
Those who carry this fog
cling to cowardice.
Unable to face the judgment within,
they align themselves to the herd;
envy-filled, they only know to mock.
Yet they replicate themselves,
so their refusal of Light
is never revealed--
*Perfectly exemplifying their "Great Example"
the most envy-based mocker of all.*
The microcosm mirrors the macrocosm.
What nations suffer,
individuals now endure--
Comfort without clarity.
Belonging without truth.
Safety without healing.
Yet the living Word endures.
Every attempt to humiliate it
only makes its fire burn clearer.
Carriers of darkness can swarm,
****** and smother..
but they cannot create.
The true word cannot be erased.
Unfiltered, unedited,
spoken from a reconciled temple,
it pierces fog.
It reveals.
It heals.
And so we speak..
not for ourselves alone,
but for those who come searching,
hoping that poetry
might still be a place
where pain can meet truth,
where silence breaks,
where Light is not withheld
but revealed.
#
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 10:59 PM UTC
What is a loser?
Someone spiraling within a microcosm of unfortunate events?
Or forgetting to update one’s facebook status in the macrocosm of tiresome vents?
People nowadays throw around insults as smiles and cheek,
Loser is a mere phrase between impudence and courageousness, sheik.
Many forget the power in which words command,
“Sticks and stones may break my bones”, but words unmanned..
Rip the heart and soul and cannot withstand,
The ebbing soreness of our confused migraine.
Perhaps I misunderstand.
Twenty-first century loser on the other hand,
Means you've made it into the ‘in-crowd’,
Enshroud,
Rain twinkling like stars,
Bicycles feeling like cars.
Yet heed this warning with everlasting effect,
Your words are yours to not neglect,
Take pride in your intellect!
Those hearts you may sway,
With words of colour and not grey,
As sweet as if valentine’s day.
May encroach your direction through doors unknown,
Before hinged like an Antarctic zone,
Forget “loser”, create your throne.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 7:35 PM UTC
*
*What I see in YOU...?
I see the eternal existence in YOU
I see the entire cosmos in YOU
I see the olamic macrocosm in YOU
I see the eternity and universe in YOU
I see the everlasting wildness in YOU
I see the aeon creation in YOU
I see the ageless world in YOU
I see a natural state in YOU
I see the essence of galaxy in YOU
I see the ecology and environment in YOU
I see the glorious landscapes in YOU
I see all the elements of composition in YOU
I see the skies, moon, stars, sun, clouds in YOU
I see the ocean, river, streams, rain, dew drops in YOU
I see the animals, birds, bees, marine life in YOU
I see your inner light, your psyche, your divine
I see soul, I see spirit, I see LOVE in YOU
I see what father could not see your inspiration to BE
I see what mother could never see the "REAL YOU"
I see miracle, magic, mystic and mysterious in YOU
I see what YOU too could not see in YOU
**I see in YOU what no one else ever has,
Ever can or could ever see in YOU***
*
Jun 3, 2019
Jun 3, 2019 at 11:28 PM UTC
Strive not to understand me. Even I stopped doing that. I learnt that before I could understand me, I would be wise to first understand the macrocosm, for it is my grand reflection after all.
If I understand it, and you do too, then you will understand me, and me you.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 5:46 AM UTC
**I tread to keep my head
Just above the water;
But find myself floating away ~
While others were sinking
or swimming
down yonder, I ponder,
though my thoughts betray
The reality that I perceive
Which may, or may not be as limiting
Of that which you can conceive,
Or can see much stronger
I no longer bother;
It’s deceiving so I castaway,
And leave myself astray in the fray /
Blottering•
To alter my relief of mindscape
and believe, there’ll better days,
beyond what I face
Cremate my remains in the ashtray someday
Energy never ceases to exist
It perpetually permeates the cosmic collective consciousness
Wherever my soul will occupy
the confines in space
Of the vibrations that happen
to solidify my base
And give me just the slightest trace,
that I’m phasing amidst
these in-between places
I feel as though I am an imposter -
Egregiously living a grievous dream,
of which I have conjured;
That I am lost,
and therefore cannot prosper
Because I harbor improper resentment,
that I will foster until my departure
This fractal picture of the macrocosm
only grows larger,
but from farther away;
As it becomes harder to map the realms
of territories unchartered in my escape
I try to attain, but only falter in vain
To discover what the universe
truly contains
And convey that in words
to paint mental frames/
Maybe it’s strange
but one must think
outside the constraints
It may sound absurd but please
keep up the pace
Spiritual enlightenment for real
is the surreal end-game
in which we all play chase replacing
Incarcerated rocks to be polished,
in this giant machine
Perpetually incarnating
A shining spirit until
that’s all that remains
Once every imperfection
Is completely erased
When the correct particles
have been finally arranged
& Nirvana has since become fully sustained
Can I truly be One with my Self-
And not just a product of fate**
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 6:01 AM UTC
there is love in laughter
and laughter in love
timeless longing in hearts
dreaming of
eons past
when cosmos were new
lost through millennia
still tethered to you
by spiritual umbilicus
feeding the soul
nourishing the heart
while paying a toll
for passing through time
your blood in my veins
unsettled in heartbeats
still calling your name
a name unrecognized
through these earthly ears
for I knew you as many
throughout timeless years
though tied in this body
two souls bound by love
found and completed
through cosmos above
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 8:09 PM UTC
peacock shimmering
night glades
our sweet Hari
His flute-song floats
stealing the butter
cream of our Love
on all fours
crawling so innocently
but when He yawns
universes spill like
glittering marbles
the entire macrocosm
inside the mouth
of babes
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 10:05 PM UTC
There are loves that can create a new universe, there are
loves that would fill outer space
where stars are just drops of mango juice
and every person you wish wrote poems about you, does.
A macrocosm so vast that
tragedy is only powder and cold coffee does not break
my heart anymore, sadness does not fit in
an oven but float, phantom-esque, in black air
no longer pollution
that slowly asphyxiates, hardly discernible in our palms of
tangible love. You will not have to tell anyone that you
love me because the whole world is our bedroom.
I felt I was dangerous the first time
you tried to **** me, like I would be too tight
and shatter every last porcelain bone under your skin.
Like my body was a vacuum ******* you in
unable to escape, inland something other than a stranger.
Instead, we became the cosmos
pouring fruit-juice-stars on the unlucky and the unloved.
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 3:27 PM UTC
In a café
Rich aroma of
Coffee brew
Morning welcome
Happy faces
Flitting newspaper pages
Reads the world story
Over aromatic coffee
Discuss local happenings
Perfect blend of
World with the neighborhood
Over cups of coffee
Animated discussions
Some ideas may
Change the world
Microcosm will fit
Perfectly in the macrocosm
Small world
Can make a difference
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC
Getting farther
and farther away
from the shore.
Past the coral shelf,
Where a young boy
absorbs the warmth
of a peach cobbler sky.
With small feet kicking,
tiny bronzed toes momentarily
meet the tangerine sky-line;
Until the horizon cools
to a blueberry hue,
dusted by drops
of indigo dew.
Below the surface,
rocks, boneless creatures,
and bacteria seem so simple,
lining the bottom of a
soundless cerulean world;
They need only hydrogen
sulfide to survive.
Inside, mute and alive, these
parallel forms of symbiosis lie,
in a microcosm and macrocosm
of biorhythms which might never
be fully discovered, or recovered.
A nature of smooth,
yet callous motions
swirl and calm.
Too infinite to know
compassion, this place;
Where one predator strikes
through a layer of dark at its prey,
while another chokes on a piece of plastic.
At times, it’s difficult for the boy to see,
through the veil of the deep blue drink,
where a gulp of air and a gasp in brine,
leaves him floating amid the liquid line.
Still, he seeks – the constant baptism within his reach,
And with the torpid flow of the tide to teach – he knows,
Evolution and Being exist together, at his sandy feet.
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 1:57 AM UTC
Our lives are roles in the constant show entertaining
unquenchible audiences of impermanence,
death applauds and bows his hat
the charcoal curtains slide in to dusk
and stage lights flash on break of day.
Everybody to your places!
stars are exploding in distant galaxies
and a black hole the size of twelve billion suns
is absorbing this universe as we laugh and as we weep.
Rome had fallen and we too shall fall as all things do
clap! clap! clap!
Our lives are told from our ankles
we're praying and meditating and chanting
while the candles bury cathedrals on their last few minutes of light.
clap! clap!
dreaded oblivion is in our rifles and bombs,
in our hearts it's lurking that ruinous leviathan,
The snapping inclination for decadence
is always there backstage shadow of mind.
Progress has been built on increasingly violent tragedies
there's only so much blood this sponge can soak
this earth can take.
clap! clap! clap!
Someday we'll be engulfed by cosmic grenades manufactured by
all those gods we read in books and pamphlets
and while our little corner of the macrocosm fades to black
it'll continue much the same some light years away.
The show must go on!
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 1:36 AM UTC
my spirit wends
the woof and warp
~~~~~
appreciation
~~~~~
the aperture of my eyes
apprehend an amalgamation
of subtle ochre and olive
~~~~~
the shuttle oscillates
into the
oblivion of
a henna hued horizon
~~~~~
cacti in clusters
huddle under
"Mother Trees"
and other larger
spiny denizens of the desert
~~~~~
moisture is maintained
by miniscule leaf
and maximum storage
~~~~~
saguaro still sanguine
with water
~~~~~
what a tenuous
tapestry is knotted
in this temporal
craft
~~~~~
awe inspired by
the wheeling of hawk
even vultures have
elegant eloquence
of place
~~~~~
i floated all above
this macrocosm
higher and higher
til I was only
only a mote
in the eye
of
EAGLES
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 3:26 PM UTC
.
Tunnels of crimson, splits the vision
as passion cruises through misty time,
the journey of the mage, passing through
the portals of seconds, the doors of millennia.
To encounter the turbulence, feel the butterflies
that threaten ill and ***** up minutes.
Chronology moves in pan-dimensions,
tempered to conformity, trapped in a clock.
The guardian of day and night, corrupted.
At journeys end, a travellers rest
parades upstanding to purvey its solace,
beckoning the beacon to sally forth.
Light space, occupied with vaccuum stars.
A macrocosm of possibilities, caves of wonder,
sends the horizon to eclipse blue moons.
In contrast, green symbols of pure abandon
triumph in ancient games of catching mist.
And the bed of Truth, a complete Lie fact.
© Pagan Paul (2016/2017)
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 4:57 PM UTC
intertwine and window into my insight on opportunity
behold green leaves falling from branches turn to (paper)
paved buildings producing educational programming
twisting like counter clockwise drills into a ignorant skull
leading to this source of never ending deposits
reproducing then only for what can be afforded
stealing that nature from right inside my female bones
attend your designated duty or (job)- debt
will crawl under your wine colored nails and manifest until:
the prayer "my soul to take" will apply
suppress my speech, i beg; my
swaying freedom of speech is turning into a depression of alcoholic slurs
never mend your thoughts too tight, or this macrocosm seems like thoughts
are trapped in an endless revolving door
intertwine and window into my insight on opportunity
because this is what they call:
the American Dream
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 4:19 PM UTC
I am hungry.
We hold our hands up together and create a world.
If I could breathe I would tell you it’s all going to be okay, that
one day this place won’t be imaginary and we will finally feel anchored
and free.
We’ll lounge on pavement, soak up the heat and shuffle bare feet through grass.
The others will be invited and our earth will sponge up the anxiety at our knees
and trees will plant themselves where anger falls.
The ebb and flow of the sky will be comfortable and balanced
and the givers won’t give until they’re empty, the takers won’t take until they’re bloated.
We’ll see each other for what we are,
and we will allow the spaces between us to fill with sand and soft thoughts.
I am hungry for you. For her hands, for his voice, for our goodness and a balance that is no longer delicate, but sure and strong.
I am hungry for hands to hold mine, but not hold me down
because I like to pretend I am free and
not bound to giving up my own hands
when a need rises up from someone else’s ashes.
And you should feel the ground,
it should be steady beneath your legs and you should
hear your pulse and footsteps as real, and alive, as you are in the tiny glimpses I get when you are truly joyful, here and now.
It won’t be a bubble or a prison. There will be a sky,
and a world with us in it.
We won’t be hungry anymore and we will breathe.
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC
Going with the flow
Yet you do not know
That the flow goes all directions
The natural lines that blind your mind
These barriers of glass
Create channels, rivers, currents
Patterns
Where the water
The flow
Simply goes
When you are always in the rapids
When your point of view is rabid
Only reacting
Not responding
So swept up in the current
You flail, flounder, following
Helplessly
Yet little do you know
The flow goes all directions
You are never alone
You are a node
You are the ocean
Not a current
You are everything
You’re worth it
You are the moment
You are worship
You are attention pointed out
Barriers are but illusions
Your life is lilting, tilting fusions
But becoming the ocean is not always easy
It’s massive, the motion makes us queasy
Most of the time we are in our own streams
Funneled by barriers as real as our dreams
But funneled nonetheless
Carried away
The process of growth
Is slowly raising yourself out of the stream
Slowly
Gradually
Adding moments of response
Instead of reaction
In that act
We find branches
In the stream
And therefore choice
We can paddle
Change our course
The world opens up
We are not the ocean yet
But on our way
As you lift yourself higher
Out of the stream
You do begin to see
The flow goes all directions
Flowing into the sea
Not only are you the ocean
But you are every stream
You float above this aquatic landscape
Coursing rivers like veins across the living earth
And, here is the magical part:
You can choose where to swim
You dive in
Headfirst
You are birthed
This is divinity
Infinity
Each moment of consciousness
A fateful flux
Between ocean and stream
Between finite and infinite
The macrocosm above
The microcosm below
The cosm in between
You are
Here
Now
The barrier between the mundane and the divine
The band of fluctuation
You are the frame
In which
This artwork unfolds
That is what happens when you can choose
When you lift out of the stream
On one level, you choose the next moment
On another level, you choose any of the infinite realities that your mind can imagine
On yet another, you are consciousness, the great ocean of light
Choosing which point to dive into the universe
Which river to course through
To enter a life of conscious experience
To sing the body electric
Be born and live and die
Be born
Live
Die
From ocean to stream and ocean again
The stream will be your entire experience
While you are underwater
But never forget:
This is Water
David Foster
This is Wallace
Meditation is learning how to swim
To realize this is water
And dryness is within
Then you learn to rise
Float above the water
Ascend
Transcend
Fly
So high
Then choose your stream
Dive in
Up and down
In and out
Like a dolphin merrily moving through the ocean
A smiling sine wave
Flowing seamlessly, dreamily
No wonder they are smiling
As free as one can be
They are the ocean and the stream
A realization that is probably easy
When one is born under the sea
We are the water in the stream
And the sea
Stretching across infinity
We are the force flowing through the tree
Splitting, branching
Diverging from the whole
But connected at the soul
In actuality
We are fractality
Aug 30, 2020
Aug 30, 2020 at 12:23 PM UTC
our time in this universe
is ridden with a luminous oddity
for light is a rarity
in the biorhythm of the macrocosm
the normality is jet
nothing
inky, obsidian slate
such liquid void drips laboriously
completely free from ejecting effort
like beads of pine sap among evergreen needles
seeping in a slowed, oozing, endless rush
at gravity's inevitable, gentle tug
eventually it will consume the cosmos
like maple syrup poured atop a whole-grain waffle
primarily, the charcoal sweetness fills
the quite purposeful lack of solidified batter
but then greedily begins to swallow the flaky bread
it bleeds
spurting with immense weight and impossible magnitude
until each limb dissolves
drifting away in the acidic salt of onyx crimson
what would I see at this inevitable state?
I am in a cave
open to the same air as the peaks of mountains
and it is so dark
I see more color with my eyes closed
my vision feigns my mind
I almost believe the expected:
the twirling endless cluster of shining cream
spiraling above my head
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 3:55 PM UTC
.
*The night sky reflects the macrocosm,
swollen Universe in all of its glory.
Laying girdled in repose and hush,
across time with an endless story.
The sun light reflects the microcosm,
miniature Universe in celebration regail.
Laying gilded in gold and dewdrops
riding time with a ceaseless tale.
The microcosm reflects the macrocosm,
the Universe mapped in a tiny mind.
Laying guarded, cradled in rainbows,
through time with its Nature confined.*
© Pagan Paul (2017)
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 4:40 PM UTC
“Life can have its share of tears and heartaches,
Malady and demise dolefully follows us in our lives,
Our souls exist with love laughter family and faith,
Life’s secret of caverns like the songs in your mind,
The enclave of sand rock and lichen reflects well,
Of that was formed ever so enchanting the abyss,
Of the stone with its furtive outlets afore the deep brine,
As it passed by your name a fiery flower than created,
The arduous waves rose like a barrier in the Universe,
A canticle now well beloved all things ode to love,
Earth time sea island life and tide are subsequent,
The sea is the mouth to the universe and tells all,
Flowers on the now spring unfold afore our eyes,
Observing us as if our passions are now in the begin,
Arduous waves of the brine are now burgeoning flowers,
A courtyard now surrounded with passionate flowers,
We were alive together on a macrocosm heretofore,
Yet not alone when the hour of our demise befalls us,
Our love was harvested as that of the fields of grain,
I the knowledge of the sea and you with gold lividity,
Mine exists in the caverns of the soil and sand
Fear not my blossom of life the fire of our love,
Soon loving kisses will join as our mouths,
Cleave perpetually”
By Andrew Guzaldo © 11/15/2018
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 7:09 PM UTC
ever stop to see
how the day can be
painted an estranged shade
like obscure fractal divisions
composed of lost pieces
of Akashic data
and somehow everything changes
because nothing ever changes
and how much astute piety can be retained
when the entirety has been scrutinized
will it put the demons to rest
or guilt to the test
as you pass through the veil
appearing
ever so frail
in the eyes of
the macrocosm
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
Eyes opening in the morning twilight
Nautical dispersion, sounds of high tide
Rough spun cotton cocooning naked bodies
The taste of ***** on your tongue
Eyes in the morning
like hammocks on Culebra, swaying in breeze
Eyes in the evening
Like cut rope belts, simple & kind
The sand in our toes a microcosm within a macrocosm
The wind in your hair like notes of music to my ears
Embrace me, my love
my heart flys away
like sparrows
in the morning
Somehow found each other, our other half
Shells in the sand to a passerby
Patterns in a cloud like eyes staring towards blind stars
Feel of graphite disintegrating into words on paper
Backwash of proletariat diaspora, like my corazon
Emptiness suddenly filled with affection
Can a dead soul absorb such life?
Like the ocean you touch all my shores
Like waves, mingle my soil with your salt
Three words: I love you.
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
with
an accepting smile
i embrace
those two invisible friends
knowledge and death
the bliss gained from true knowledge
seldom taught at any college,
that vantage point
from where
the lingering fear of death,
is vanquished
then
both of you
hand in hand
stealthily become my left and right half
as i merge
with the macrocosm
© 2021
Jun 5, 2021
Jun 5, 2021 at 10:57 AM UTC
Divine love is the essence of eternal bonding and relationship.
If I had fallen in your divine love
I also could have known
that how twinkling stars
in the moonlit night
could strew their amazing illumination
in the whole universe
that how the moon in the milky night
could embellish its beaming smile
that how austerity of the galaxy of stars
could witness the happiness of macrocosm
that how melody of nature
could touch the heartbeats of its lovers
that how harmonic sound of birds
could create musical environment
in the dark and deep forests
that how rustles of the intoxicated winds
could break the silence of darkness
that how the voluptuous gestures of the sky
could stimulate ****** desires
of flora and fauna
that how the adorable smile
of elvish dark clouds
could shower colorful kisses
on the pink roses crazy in love
that how the sensual seduction of dew drops
could magnetize the glow of dawn
and that how the fresh air in the morning
could disrupt the penance of the spring
if I had fallen in your divine love
I could have felt
the eternal beauty of nature
I wish I could have drowned
In your divine enchantment
forever and ever and ever
(By Kishan Negi)
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 3:56 AM UTC
Already accepted that he is the one of his kind;
he is never going to happen again, though,
he has shed and shared too much blood
for keeping himself alive -
always on the still
I am the cosmonaut of his existence;
the explorer of his oneness
for he is the macrocosm of my blooming.
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 6:40 AM UTC
I am an awkward child
I do not know how
to win your fine graces
or how to fake the swagger
of knowing it all
I stutter like I'm stupid
and I quiver like I am scared
I can disappear with the
best of them
A nobody
Just a blip in the macrocosm
of life
like a tiny seed in the bed of Earth
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 5:17 PM UTC