"magnification" poems
When I enter,
the black holes of myself,
they are located,
transcribed upon the
blackboards of our
unified bodies,
the magnification of energy
transversed,
principles demonstrated
by the unconcluding
conclusion of the expansion of
creation,
the rebirthing of one universe
never ending
When I enter a woman,
the discovery sought,
the definitional needed,
the proofs equational,
the factors constant,
not the variable
truths,
the demonstrations positive,
the constants of the universe,
combinational, all within,
a single point glistening
to gentle comfort this
knowledge of my wasting,
the foresight of my limitations
from the day of birth
my matter,
matters,
my energy
neither destroyed or created,
illimitable,
my decline inevitable
and yet!
cannot alter my atomic structure.
my future guaranteed,
my inner light,
traveling so fast,
it has yet
to arrive
When I enter a woman,
the laws of physics
become special theories
of relativity,
we are motion in time,
force and energy
nucleotides rawest refined,
elemental and particle nuclear,
packets of light
exclaimed
When I enter a woman,
organic, chemistry,
interdisciplinary
my body and its life force
shaped as
electric current transceivers
crossing galaxies,
there can be no deceivers,
there but and only
the birthing of heat,
a byproduct of
interjection, conjunction
creation of creativity
<>
she is my proof
long after the
log normal of my nerves,
now parceled to the
invisible of an oscillating
log natural,
fertilizes the sea grasses
that so intoxicate,
flying, carried,
by the invisiblity of the winds,
all-where I have chosen
as my shifting shape,
when this container
leaks and crack'd,
in sentry reentry orbit,
to
the nearest garbage strewn
construction-dead
lot
When I enter a woman,
physics far beyond
the commonplace,
physical transition
to knowledge
of life ever after
death and fear are
time sensitized
passing notions,
crushed by the
consolation of physics,
the eternality
of a time
once begun,
cannot end,
and therefore
this,
my one theory of everything,
the God
I worship,
of course,
he is invisible!
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC
It is seven this crisp April morning. In woods before the rising path reveals the heath, there, no there, just there are the first bluebells. Most still hide their pendulous bells in sheath-like petals. When open into a bell the end flounces, splits, curls back on itself. Then the petals reveal their delicate shades of light-thriven lavender. The stout purposeful stem meanwhile allows a gathering of bells, no, a necklace of bells, bells laced around the neck.
I cannot look at this flower without knowing it is the colour that so often graces your purposeful frame, arrayed in the simplest clothes, so often in layered friendly shades; so often falling, loose, quiet, light-enhancing as your blue with grey with green eyes that hold my gaze in pillow-closeness, in that magnification of those intimate moments when one can only whisper.
The common bluebell is the first whisper of summer. It is Endymion, of the bower, a 'bower quiet for us and a sleep full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing'. In that mornings’ moment I am John and you ***** May we this vernal evening sit together as the dusk gathers darkness 'and with full happiness. . . trace the story of Endymion. . . the very music of its name gone into my being'.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 2:01 AM UTC
You will probably always
be savage
as a drop of pond water.
The unnecessary magnification
of this wee orb
always reveals monsters -
animalcules -
relax.
The background
is shit-green.
All of life
flows from
our scumminess.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
Stagnant,
Entertaining Ideas,
Slowly Mauling Thoughts,
Over Manifesting Mindless Acts -
Complexity Turned Suddenly Simplified -
Outburst Magnification Aligned,
Creative, Innovative,
Viral.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 9:25 PM UTC
***Fell heal over heads
in love with a poet,
he's mostly a rhyme schemer
likes Poe and his dark Raven,
in actuality, I'd fancy him more if
he were like Pablo Neruda, but I digress
I'm much accurately fashioned after Emily Dickinson
chasing heaven's June bugs toing and froing,
we'd meet at a perfectly superfluous coffee shop
he'll be murmuring elegiac pentameter
I'm simply looking to devour precious words,
we'd argue about abstract destinations,
straight forward persuasions and
premonitions of wayward ink allusions,
some days I want to claw mine own eyes out
amid all that nonsensical alliteration
others, I want to rip out embellishments
of his black heart's magnification,
he mutters tumult under his breath,
states he's abundantly sickly tired of all my
fanatical froufroutant flourished fantasies,
albeit, we're mild mannered artistes
of overstatement and simplification
thus, we continue laying it on thickly
I, with my hyperbolic cuppa tea and honey,
he's all brass tacks, no nonsense black coffee
ultimately, we reservedly seek gratification,
envisioning who functionally makes it first
to a finished line of manifestations's publication,
in eternity's poetic intentions and beyond***
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 9:14 AM UTC
Be aware, the nature of fate is well predicted
With eyes wide watch the wing of the butterfly
turn tides into hurricanes twisting
Developed and balanced
spiritual evolution enhanced
electromagnetism push and pull control the chance
Behold the spectrum
prismatic fabrication
Zoom into the microcosm inner seam magnification
See where it leads
Know where it's led
Obtain the needle
Then weave your own thread
Sep 8, 2012
Sep 8, 2012 at 3:15 PM UTC
Hills, brown rustic reds
skies pile colored layers on
Rattlesnake vertebrae bones
scent of creosote
high desert home
Lover, painter
wild poppies - orange paper
petals, sepal magnification
watercolor, oil painted
gradations
Abiquiu home,
desert ghosts, coyotes
wildflower gardens grown
to pick, to paint perfection
a flower
alone
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 10:17 PM UTC
Driving down the road
I experienced the glow
Of daytime's luxurious light
That was until it became night
Now that night has happened
A light follows me from the darkness
It pervades my rear view mirror
It's blinding magnitude magnifies upon reflection
The light intimidates me
Like the time
I didn't know what to say
And you had nothing to say
So we went our separate ways
Traveling alone
The light seems brighter
It's constant peering presence disturbs me
I feel this condemning nightlight is my jury
Like the time
The ****** I injected landed me in jail
I used it to sedate the voice that I failed
When you saw my love and bailed because I'm male
I drive lonely and high
There's an exasperated sigh
When the lights gets closer
I feel it may bring closure
Like the time
You entered my vehicle
To protect me from the light
I confused your compassion for love
I felt so stupid
When foolish fits me like a glove
I feel so putrid
The odds of someone being gay are slim
So why when my hopes are dashed
Must I crumble into idiotic ash?
My eyes grow larger
As death's sights grow smaller
And death's light grows taller
My mistakes create magnification
And I begin to drive erratically
When you are my love's activation
I continue to die sporadically
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 5:26 AM UTC
A shadow holds me in his grip and seeks the bones that he must find. The grazes of ghostly fingers on myself remind me of my ending youth and the ticking time that is left.
I’ve disappeared into the morning fog as the people I love have begun to stare straight through me They strain to look at me although I vanish upon them catching a small glimpse- I am acid to the cornea causing burning blindness and hatred.
These bones are brittle and the wind has picked up, the sky is darkening as if to rain and the rainbow day is done. However, the rainbow days were spent as a child whisked to the side to be plucked like a fruit all of the brightness and sweets taken, leaving me dull, laughter drops from me like a stone.
I attempt to concentrate on the slivers of light peering through the bars of my own psychological prison cell, but such magnification did not set my heart on afire.
Rain droplets taste my skin, unraveling at the ripples as 3 lightning bolts fork through the houses, 7 claps of thunder, 12 bursts of laughter in the house next door and a thousand tears rolling down my cheeks. I suddenly realize that my head was severed from my body days ago while lying sleepless on the worn couch.
Each season the garden dies, i die with each, until i die no more- although his death and mine were not the same, we still rot underneath the dirt in worms and earth as the city streets blacken and decompose.
The tears cling to the sleeve of my jacket mucus separating with a sticky pull and the dolls and smiles of my life are gone replaced by the headache and the row of cuts on my thighs.
Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 3:03 PM UTC
Inspired by Tonya Riddle,
Wife, Mother, Sister,
Nurse, Poet, Gardener,
and a
friend
<>
The littlest things you all say, the lightly remarked,
or weighty beloved ones, 100% guarantee a smile
or a tear, no difference, but all press me to grab
the nearest papyrus, to ink that notion, an
untimely timely near midnight revelation,
requiring a scribing to permanent-seal that moment’s
custom potion, via magnification.
It ain’t easy, kinda of reverse curse from
the many wintry months of the ‘tion’s absence:
motivation, inspiration, perspiration go
on a round-the-world cruise and when
they don’t invite you along, in-truth,
semi-secretly, poetry is kinda de-relevationed (less urgent)
For I have seen a picture, a memorial garden bounteous,
Jordan’s Garden,
so late night, kind words exchanged in reciprocation,
as we both stagger gently into sleep and a new
twenty-four, and here, and I hear, the realization
thoughts inescapable, demanding: creation, visitation,
& ****** a instantion ripening and
Fruition.
A lovely word this one, for it’s strawberry season
on the north fork of the isle, accompanied by
imported Carolina peaches,
and when the roadside farm stands offer them for
sale, included is a a couple of paper towel slices,
for the fruition juices runneth over
(stain stick not included)
So just before midnight, the electrons and (t)ions inform
that tonight, a calming of words, revelations of affection,
salve the grieving heart that runneth over
which surely was my intention,
as well as a celebration of commemoration, and in
calming you friend, my eyes wet, not realizing, that
I’ve written a smile upon my lips, a precursoration to a
rarity, a well and good night’s sleepy and hallowed
restoration.
7:47 AM Mon Jun 26
Jun 26, 2023
Jun 26, 2023 at 5:52 PM UTC
As she runs through the forest, smitten with excitement, she passes tall pines and even fallen pines, in an effort to find the lover ahead of her.
He walks in a daze, as if stuck in a daydream, rendered useless by the magnification of her beauty and the way he feels with her arms wrap as tightly as she can around him in embrace.
She stops to call his name, never thinking of who, or what, else may come calling instead, for she does not fear the woods, but the thought of never seeing her love again.
He begins to become impatient with not knowing the locality of his precious love, and he begins to quicken his pace in his most confident direction, feeling only with his heart.
She is having indecision in her selection of direction, and doubts her current course, stopping again to ponder the true path she should take....creeping thoughts of the forest come after unfamiliar noises arose.
He is in full sprint, looking franticly in each direction as he runs, yelling her name with each possible breath he can spare, sure to find her quickly reserving no vigor for potential encounters.
She is starting to despair with the thought of being lost and never finding her prince, she cries such tears, that she creates a stream with the tears for her lost love.
He begins to tire and feels distraught over the whereabouts of his love, he know she is alone in the forest, and in his anguish stumbles upon a stream, he splashes the warm water on his face washing away grief.
As night falls, she begins to realize that she may never find her love, and she cries harder, until her tears and herself...become the stream in her bereavement
As shade covers all, he sees her in his heart, but fears he will never see her again, and to avoid cold he finds refuge in the pools of the warm stream....becoming a tree in his sorrow.
Ages pass...a young boy sits at the base of a very large tree and watches the stream of the warmest water disappear into the tree...living together forever...one is the purpose...the other the life.
The tree cannot be without the water......but the water is not needed without the tree...
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 9:10 AM UTC
the wilds - my eyes focus on a fragmented figment a magnificent magnification of my dreams, it’s enigmatic, electrifying, enchanting - bogged in a dismal murky muck of lost hope, worn splendor, a broken down, lonely deserted caboose waiting for a jolt, i watch my happiness, & my fulfillment steam away as i grow rusty and dilapidated - forgotten about - but as this fragmented figment magnifies magnificently, i feel the warmth, melting my heart of rusted metal, and loosening the hinges on the doors, as the figment enters the doors, i feel fear and terror, but blissfulness and amorous, i will be rebuilt again, and you’re the one, rebuilding my heart, my soul, and this dilapidated metal frame. Shape me and break the smoldering mold for me to be yours, so i am just that, yours.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 6:57 PM UTC
Our ancient lineage contains folds encapsulating hidden wisdom
unfurling at the weathered edges.
Curling inwards in attempt to direct us to the origin.
Source.
Deposits of insight lie within our bloodline,
spiraling beside genetic codes we have carried through lifetimes.
The quickening has arrived,
through comprehension acceleration and universal language of Love translations.
Verdant roots nourishing, allowing spiritual nutrients to enhance our brilliance.
We are
Telluric creatures:Natural teachers
essential to the transfusion of energy between the moon and the sun
We are
the ones, responsible for our is-ness magnification
outgrow foundations we have constructed to keep ourselves from seeing past this self inflicted ceiling.
It has withheld us from feeling anything beyond this consumeristic dogma implanted in our society,
force feeding us its enigmatic conditioning.
Detach pre-determined thinking to allow this ever-flowing journey of contemplating mysteries,
abolishing worries of fear in the becoming.
It takes courage to assert ones self beyond what we have been taught,
to unlearn ready made thought and rewrite our own scriptures.
Our ligaments are sacred scrolls awaiting our blessing, allowing them to unfold
leaving lacuna spaces for existence to experience traces of our essence.
Children of mother earth in collaboration with father time,
the genesis of this breath has appointed us as divine,
intertwined into a perfected geometric composition, we are creation curators of this generation
woven into synthesis,
mastered with our gift of presence,
god-head recollection.
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
Adorned!
Adorned in scarlet,
Love as she bleeds,
A heart torn out still beating,
Bathed in claret,
Drenched in tears,
Silent, cowering in vacant corners of abysmal dismay, in total disarray of obsolete dreams,
Tears flow as torrential rain,
Spirit vacates words, as lies corrupt and die,
Doomed to wait in misery while eternity waits impatiently,
Cloven hooves etch on worn ,
Welcome unto desolation in degenerate spirit form,
Burning as lightening catches me, electrifying fingertips,
Kissing in magnification,as spirit charged in justification,
Live to love another day,from whence pain came and went astray!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 12:29 PM UTC
I've been using my computer's HDMI chord to connect to a T.V. in order to game, but I've never written poetry on it.
The magnification of the words and the fluidity of the transfer from keyboard to screen is magnificent.
It's giving a kind of otherworldly, surreal feeling to the pieces I'm creating.
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 1:31 PM UTC
the city of lost gold
some settler found it
iron in a bouquet
suffrage wants no magnification
did we separate them long enough
lust and la la la love
they make an iffy couple
let alone combo
nitro
glycerine
cheap
risk
and pink cement
babe dont mean anything
different
to me
here i am with envy
I'm cheap cigars
youreover there
sta sta staring again
at me- throwing questions
with grins
no i dont want a negation
british accents or something
weak
i just want to talk
and keep our services out of the back
youre just my customer now
in this 5
Man
Town
I want nothing more than to take
both of the kids and leave
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 7:33 PM UTC
When the day is a flickering bulb .. Doldrum afternoons , uninvited hindsight
The enemy continuously cruises by in different vehicles
Telephones are coiled serpents , televisions-
attempt to monitor my every move
My dark , hidden existence ..Tenth power magnification
Eating raisins , hoping for rain to justify-
my lack of worldly participation
Reading Melville and Grotius with waning passion
Secretly bored with silly public games
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 12:44 PM UTC
Oh how wicked is my sin bent heart
Daily should it be struck through with a dart
For when it is not crucified it does dart
To the sin, for which my savior was pierced through the heart!
Oh let me not be so fickle my Lord
Let me ever stumble backward
For yet a little slumber I can not afford
Else my poverty shall be the reward
Let it not be I who blasphemy’s by doing that which my Savior
did died for
You have given me a way therefore
help me walk by the strength which is yours
Oh this prayer do not ignore!
So, let I pray thee, your servant never slumber
Let me not rest from good labor
Rather provoke me, as a good father to your work evermore
If weary I shall rest in thee
Every day help me put to death the pride that be sets me
It is I who doth fight against my self!
I surrender it to you my farther!
Give the victory as you have promised
Not for my glory!
For I know it is not on my own that I even have this desire
But so others might see your glory reflected in this shattered mirror!
Then they shall glorify you!
And all magnification shall be yours!
Oh my God so let it be!
Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 8:23 PM UTC
Don't search for me for where I am,
I'm not searching for where you are.
To that which you "belong."
Don't look for me to the future,
For I learned your histories & they are repulsive.
The records are detailed & long.
Don't give no magnification on my past,
For I have the details of your future.
Wrong is just wrong!
Apr 17, 2025
Apr 17, 2025 at 10:24 AM UTC
it’s a dare. i used to walk alone in central london.
daffodils bloomed in early spring;
a celebration of greenery and my desire for a neon bulb in a heather grey landscape.
strange,
there is a chance I’m lying
i have yet to recover my woolen heart
so desperate to seek city werewolves
and drink lemonade even if it’s always raining
i trade this taciturn muscle
for a drum that is manual, complete, and is alive
at every rockabilly show
(the singers say they’re from glasgow)
where my hips are pressed into my girlfriend’s
who drinks candied snow
and it’s strange,
how the sweat never leaves my brow
it lingers like the scent of potpourri
scattered on linoleum floors of generic bathrooms
with fuzzy toilet seats and powder pink tiles,
i am the one who never leaves
because i feel
all things that I shouldn’t feel;
a magnification of contagious sentiments
i am the last of my kind
i am a daffodil;
i lie, but only in my own reflection
and if spring time is patient, i shall float on the central city,
sighing and gasping at the other neon bulbs
that bloom before me,
strange
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 2:22 PM UTC
Snowday, too, on top of the Monday Fed Holiday.
Nations are minds made up. Agreements, elders made
with all they made believe.
Let's pretend, after seven decades, we are children,
let us spout off about absolutes and insoluble angst,
natural, in unconstitutional retyings of the national
spirit,
we
the
people most exceptionalistly educated and ---
Confuse, confuse muse and music?
Magnification and magic, majesty and jest, me?
My first thought on waking, or reaction acknowledging,
science, if any thing is sharp, it was made to become so.
Crystal vision, any reader in this medium has,
an attainment,
merit worn
by knowing
words hold
thoughts and thoughts occur in superstringy gnosisnot.
Feb 22, 2023
Feb 22, 2023 at 2:08 PM UTC
To whom one is loved,
To be loved delivers
In return
A natural state of what
It means to be human.
And all along the river
As the waters whisper moments
In a running stream
That makes what bearable
Pre existing emptied
Soul poured into the flesh
And left to settle into the dust
What one can manage,
Only the love returned fills
The soul,
And family, friends ,
And lovers begin the end
In a flash so bright
It blinds a star
And what is born is life,
Each a tiny universe unto
The self,
A portrait of a person
For better or otherwise
Solidifies the magnification,
Love is Spirit,
And I am magnificent,
Because I know I will
Die of life,
And I lived,
All that one can do....
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 2:57 AM UTC
I can reminisce about hearing the quote, "Some infinities are bigger than other infinities." Now in the present day I'm more near to the understanding. In this certain moment my mind is cluttered with a certain category of infinities. *** relationships, appearance, conversation, dating, personalization, and self-esteem. This experience of profanity has my attention in a bind. Or would be call this profanity? I haven't the slightest idea. I have this attraction, I have this intense desire. And I have a particular longing and needing. But my emotions are always different; never the same. At a point, my desire for sexuality has never been higher. And at a different point, it could never go lower. He revealed to me his entire being, which to me was never intended. We live in a world of confusion. The land of the unknown. We fear what we do not know. Do we know anything about this? Do we know what the other is thinking? Or what they mean? Or their intentions, actions, or thoughts? I believe against that. We will never know. Only once in the greatest while do we put someone else into prospective. WE care only for ourselves and what we want. No is starting to mean yes. *** is starting to mean marriage. Relationships are starting to mean appearance, or self-esteem. Conversations is starting to mean personalization. Ideas are different. Opinions are different. Goals are different. And in the end, minds and lives are never to be in comparison. Respect is coming out to have no connection whatsoever to responsibility. Changes are dramatic. Society is the evilest of all evil. Minds are tuned, and so are stomachs. This world has to so greatly. Differentiation is something some wish to be a necessity. Real generalizations, and to practice realism without assumptions would be the greatest glory. These thoughts are probably irrelevant to the most abstract minds. Minimization and magnification are used repeatedly; maybe even without recognition. What shall I do to speak my mind without judgement; and be the change I wish to see? To see a different way of seeing. To display examples of the contrast in minds. I have an answer to this, "What shall I do," question. It would be to learn that some infinities are bigger than other infinities.
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
Ink
Is
But
A
Magnification of though in true form.
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC