"metamorphosis" poems
#*Nightbird perches high
beneath the shooting stars
that dapple the bouquet
of sleepless peace
... his soft downy breast
has lent breath
to the sweet April afterglow
heaving with song
The mystical feathered troubadour's
swooning echo
A melodic twilight serenade
conjures a moonstruck metamorphosis,
sprouting magical wings of flight;*
rousing *a lonely heart's esprit
to fly away unfettered
in constellations of song
How dare imaginings spilled from the big dipper
enchant such an enrapturing magic spell?
It's so far to fall from swinging on a star!
It's so far beyond nearing crescent moon
when you wish upon a star
Thereupon struck by a bewitching bolt of starlight;
Dropping asudden as a shooting-star!
Rolling like trailing thunder;
tucked and tumbling ―
somersaulting,
celestial rumbling
blossoming with an unearthly joy
A nascent winged heart splayed bare,
soars upon cresting wind waves;
dreaming of that shapeless
w h o o o o s h ―
gathering beneath
~ uplifting wings ~
Suddenly ― gliding freely,
winging gracefully
upon wafting star drift glitter;
lilting lightly upon the arising cadence
of nightingale's melodious fluted song
Nightingale sings sweet April perfume
beneath the star shed lamplight twinkle
... and it makes no difference if it's only a dream
if my heart had wings*
imagined by: Jesse Stillwater
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 11:26 AM UTC
a girlfriend came in
built me a bed
scrubbed and waxed the kitchen floor
scrubbed the walls
vacuumed
cleaned the toilet
the bathtub
scrubbed the bathroom floor
and cut my toenails and
my hair.
then
all on the same day
the plumber came and fixed the kitchen faucet
and the toilet
and the gas man fixed the heater
and the phone man fixed the phone.
noe I sit in all this perfection.
it is quiet.
I have broken off with all 3 of my girlfriends.
I felt better when everything was in
disorder.
it will take me some months to get back to normal:
I can't even find a roach to commune with.
I have lost my rythm.
I can't sleep.
I can't eat.
I have been robbed of
my filth.
16.8k
I.
And my hair became too much
It overtook the walls
made its way into the office on the sixth floor
and then hung
like a dripping willow’s branches
over the desks
By the time they thought to find me
I’d already been wrapped up in a cocoon of brown hair
indistinguishable from the walls
that was now
also covered in the thick strands of undulated hair
II.
everything and everyone became consumed.
III.
In hairy chrysalis, the scissors uselessly
hung on some poor frantic pair of hands
forced into pupa
IV.
It was on the third day that the streets surrounding the corporate buildings were once again
populated with people, that a young woman in heels swore she heard a
faint choral singing coming from the 5th or 6th floor of a dreary grey building.
V.
everything cocooned
everyone consumed
all in pupa
VI.
During metamorphosis, a caterpillar digests itself leaving only behind imaginal discs
that shape it’s adult body.
everything becomes consumed.
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 12:05 PM UTC
Always it happens when we are not there--
The tree leaps up alive into the air,
Small open parasols of Chinese green
Wave on each twig. But who has ever seen
The latch sprung, the bud as it burst?
Spring always manages to get there first.
Lovers of wind, who will have been aware
Of a faint stirring in the empty air,
Look up one day through a dissolving screen
To find no star, but this multiplied green,
Shadow on shadow, singing sweet and clear.
Listen, lovers of wind, the leaves are here!
10.8k
The process of becoming other than,
the shedding of the old by way of time
the hands upon the clock traverse their span,
the ever fleeting moment reigns, sublime.
The emptiness of all objective forms,
the rushing river, never stepped in twice,
the reconfiguration of all norms,
the virtues of lost ages seen as vice,
The elements converge and then react,
the caterpillars weave themselves cocoons,
the world amends its stock of gathered facts,
the moths emerge, in flight to greet the moon,
The firmament, destroyed and rearranged,
the universal essence, found in change.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 7:47 PM UTC
1.
Nymphomaniac-addicts,
Overweight bisexual vegetarians
Climbing trees to stay fit
and eating 80’s fried chicken *******
2.
just imagine
Aquarians full of class valedictorians
Swimming on display for graduation ceremony…
reverse-symbolism of how Moolch drowned His *****
3.
Better yet, just imagine
Holy wars,
Beautiful words written to describe the burning pains
Of holocaust...the Kristallnacht nights
Under the mistletoe,
Watching Hall of fame ball hawks on pivot toes
Driving through hoes
After the whistle blows
4
College Literacy classes teaching basic:
Ideas that good questions leads to good answers,
Reading reminders
Free association conceptual constructions
5.
But ************ professor:
free association **** shticks
misfires, false alarms
are all art, too,
Like sticking a dagger into an apple,
Not the edible, but the technology.
6.
Go head, deconstruct the philosophy
Of oral cute-tification,
according to the Tautology of Leviticus,
With the same three half truths, pogroms
against biological deviant... FLAGS!
7.
Cryptic gospels of a ************
Where three F.F.F’s
Stands for six six six
Like how 1mg of juxtaposition
And a dose of metamorphosis
is the repertoire of a king of curmudgeon
‘cause even the Holy Ghost
drinks from the cup of Christ’s blood.
8.
Reading,
Self-flagellation gospel-manual of Pope John Paul II,
At shrink sessions under the daze of heron Piper methysticum blunts
With sweet phat butts like lit lickerish that droop eyes
Like the psalm of Valeriana officinalis root extract.
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 12:46 PM UTC
what is this mind that was given to me that is able to see things i print on screen with my digital zip drive of a brain that is stuck inside a laptop main frame, ******* server uploading and crashing sending pings and things to hackers who perform doss attacks and web cracks and serial cracks while eating cereal going over javascript material program landslide juno got bit by emails and other technical software jargin computer guy got the blue screen of death corruption on the web the spider metacrawling and setting it on angelfire i google the facebook twitter and hot wire my car on the trader the wall street journal and the white house, **** sites and white owls, getting arrested and being hired by the government, the money's spent, criminal punishment, in cells locked up no breakfast but lunch under the crack of a door inside ur naked *** on irc chat, the warez rat, pirates on bays and whispers from kittens, brown paper packages exploding a smidgeon, binary, metamorphosis, code program gold, warning anti virus and spywares, baghdad to china, spy on private, eyes on cameras, cell phones like trackers, global position mappers, predator drones, video games, nfl madden, mad men, and happy wal marts, hacking wal mart, with social engineers, traveling the silk road with a cloak ip address revoked
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 4:15 AM UTC
French kisses in the deepest places, pressing deeply into flesh, moist and trembling, lost in heaven
Twisting and turning my body into every direction, hungry for more of my quivering slick heat
I am submissive to all this pleasure - wanting and needing all given
I am silk against your body, growing moist beneath your fingers, sinking hands into the wet fresh Earth
You leave nothing uncharted, crossing and retreating into the deeper parts of my being
Heat ignites in time with rhythm, our bodies making music only naturally following a secret beat
We become nature undulating water, your hands digging into my Venus, pulling me towards the voracious heat - thrusting deeper
In the most blinding white heat ever known, our bodies meshed together going towards the unknown abyss, then f
e
l
l, exhausted, in unbearable pleasure
We have surrendered to death only to resurrect and live again
Si c’est comment il est, je le veux pour toujours
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 12:26 AM UTC
Metamorphosis
I feel a churning within
This change is coming...
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 4:40 PM UTC
i would prefer to sit
home alone
and read
the fountainhead
the catcher in rye
the metamorphosis
the stranger
i get drunk off plays on words
i get high off clever plots
what keeps me up at
night isn't money
or relationships
it's the fact that
there are so many
lovely books
that have yet to be
in my hands
it's overwhelming
i do not dream
of stacks of currency
or a lover by my side
i dream of paper
covered in ink
and the satisfying
feeling of turning pages
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 9:39 PM UTC
Myself caught in the heatwave sunlight, brown eyes
furrowed in the sun, scarf loose on my neck/
the transcendental Denpasar morning-birds
are playing their melodies in my head still,
three years post-Indonesia.
All of my soul to India now,
sky the pink of painted elephants
on Jaipur dawning,
my afterlife was somewhere here
perhaps two generations ago, chances are.
Vijay Raghav Rao and Alla Rakha
playing the Tabla/via earphones/treading the
Funary Box City (Kashi) future Spring
hands held together keeping calm pace.
Looking about, my twenty-two year old face
catches humid wind
S
I
L
V
E
R
S
H
O
P
tattered bike leaning on the gated guest house entrance
PERENNIAL AZURE SHIVA SITS CROSS LEGGED/
COBRA NECKLACE IMITIATONS ON THE GODDESS THROAT/
MEDITATING SHIVA/
dulled from years and corrosion.
Brahmin center of the market street
flapping it's tail,
sweat beads from my forehead bleeding
to oily pavement.
At last the months have come for the river Ganges,
April penumbra/savage thunderclap
while school children uplifting the heart
AND MIND
are ROARING in their laughter
the CONTINENTAL DISCORD OF JOY
sleeping with their eyes open
while others are too tired for the Earth.
Sidney Bechet floating swan songs during
the black hour cremations/
“Bechet Creole Blues”
CATERWAUL IN THAT VOID
THE METAMORPHOSIS OF DEATH/
LUNACY OF LIFE
(I've arrived at the simultaneous crossroads
of both)
searing flesh in open air pyramids/
Manikarnika Ghat,
Asia F
L
O
W
S
through dreams
like inevitable prophecy
and as ash blends with stars
the CITY seems fulfilled
and mystifying
in it's
(((((RESPLENDENCE)))))
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
Telling the story of passion, death, and virtue.
Tracking deception with freedom's lies.
The Traveler passed through that timeless veil
between here and there,
the spaces
between the fantastic delusional minds.
That a hunter has when tracking
down an accomplished plan.
Caught in a Blue Galactic Storm.
The Unicorn said.
*"Mind your own business the rest of us don't give a ****
Yet just as the wheels of the stars keep on turning--
on the heels of a planet surfing the Universes tides.
There will always be cycles-
and sometimes it happens
that they collide-such is the power of the Muse.
My story is one of tragedy and despair,
with malice and Discord, Regret and Guilty Shame.
Swallowed by the darkness empty and Dead.
Yet out of nothing sprang Life--
fear to Hope Hate to Love, Recklessness to Responsibility,
now I'm changing the tide.
With arrows sharp words that fill the Night sky.
Once again finding the Magic in these threads-weaving a world I've known and dread. Always mocked by the Queen of Hearts, hunting, desiring;
"Metamorphosis"
But Truth and Memory found the way.
A ghost shell that’s crossed the Styx of the Grave,
The Muse inside no longer be spelled drifting now to unsure shores,
Just as Dante mapped out Hell, so will I my tale:
Psyche (Human Soul) captive
to the Ice of Pluto-shed no tears.
This prison made flesh by mortal
woe-lost, forgotten,
But Morpheus came to me then.
"You still have your Dreams."
Then the madness came looming.
The facts blurred and suddenly Phoebe appeared:
with a playful far off expression.
"Oh Persephone, mourn the falling leaves, for it is the last of them you will see.”
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 2:23 PM UTC
as days have past
and so have mine
the climate, changed
and the weather, gone
Nevermore
will i expect
greatness from my own.
as a sea that had lost its saltiness
and as skies earn faded stars
as an old print fades away
and as a tree that shed its leaves
Nevermore
will i expect for you to come,
as for me to wait
the **** has gone,
and the judge has come
to wreak havoc upon my life
but to bring
understanding
to my restless soul.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 9:43 PM UTC
Everybody’s going nowhere and I am far gone
I can’t even see the ocean the motion was all wrong
Just a sea of broken bottles and cigarette models
On the floor, so high I had to clean the sky
Never been an existentialist, cynic, or a pessimist
Just another body on the edge of metamorphosis
Clinging to a rope I hope will not snap
Like my neck if I hit the ground, oh crap!
I’m apocalyptic fresh and I can’t say why
If I do it’s a lie, see the needle in my eye?
Meditation, preparation, or a conscious legislation
Couldn't help the fact my words are often littered with abrasions
As if shock rock poetry could save me from my death
It could possibly enlighten but I wouldn't hold my breath
Now I’m frightened by the notion of a new world order
But anarchy is hip if you’re on this side of the border
I digress, what a mess if you know what I mean
But I've burned out quicker than gasoline…
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 10:11 PM UTC
Just like a caterpillar
She's gone through changes-
those relevant stages of her life
The process is long
And is full of pain
Until she becomes
A beautiful butterfly
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 1:29 PM UTC
synergy in the mist
of creations' breath...
multitudes croaking so loudly
drowning in eventide dew,
all the wind's timbre
is hushed;
overcome
by earth’s
communing symphony,
creations’ living
pulsing thrum..
alone in a crowd
proclaiming
the glory of now...
whelmed,
and i wishing
i were a frog,
and unalone
in the throng
maybe evolution
as this—
is reversing...
ouroboros
i need to search
for an intimate kiss
metamorphosis,
another incarnation
that will turn me
back into a frog—
a speck of stardust
in a sky full of stars
seems better than
feeling like ashes
a burned out candle
muted
by the gypsy choir
*the call of the wild
sung in the wind*
wild is the wind © march 2016
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 2:16 PM UTC
Like some kind of metamorphosis,
You changed so rapidly,
Once you were quiet,
Yet so abrupt,
Then you didn't care what the world thought,
Once you laughed with me,
Once you chuckled lightly with a smile spread wide,
Once you'd hug me,
Even kiss me,
But once this metamorphosis hit,
You've become cold and unwelcoming,
So restrained,
You listen to their lies about me,
You let the world decide for you,
Now the laughter,the chuckles and giggles,They are gone,
The smiles have faded,
No hugs or kisses,
Barely a glance,
Only receiving ignorance,
Now,Because of this change,
This One evil metamorphosis,
We are like are like strangers in the street,
All we have are the memories,
The ones you say meant nothing,
The only proof we know one another,
Is the look on your face when you see me,
Near disgust,
You put up your hood and run the moment you spot me,
Those moments hurt,
But it is proof you knew me,
But that was all before your metamorphosis,
That was when our memories meant everything,
Now they mean nothing,
At least to the one who changed....
Oct 7, 2011
Oct 7, 2011 at 5:05 PM UTC
Adapt & absorb other beings,
needs,wants, habits, ideas, beliefs.
Influences, unoriginal.
Metamorphosis,
eternally avoiding the raw,wicked truth of your inner soul,
drop the ******* facade, it is futile and ludicrous.
Analyze,compare, identify, mimic, imitate, copy,shift, evolve.
Perpetual cycle.
Veiled false identities and lies,
layers upon layers, shirk the pale shadows of who we used to be.
Shall we continue?
Contradiction.
Fools, to believe that one can ever change.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 6:00 AM UTC
*if i were made out of iron,
then you are my flame--
melted my barriers and,
molded me
to who i am
today.*
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 6:19 AM UTC
You were supposed to give of yourself--
Your angel dust was dragon fire;
The spark to her funeral pyre.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 4:54 PM UTC
Transformation.
To be transformed.
Seed to flower.
Child to adult.
Caterpillar to butterfly.
A wave can turn to a hurricane,
a flame to a wildfire,
a stormcloud to a tornado.
It looms,
it darkens the sky,
it frightens.
But does not the shore dry,
the forest fizzle out?
The sun sneaks out behind a seemingly never-ending stream
of darkness and devastation.
So, too, do we transform.
A boy became a man,
but not before
he was absorbed
by darkness.
Only thereafter
could he seek out the sun.
Peace comes after war,
recovery after illness,
healing after injury...
This transformation,
it is greater,
more magnanimous
because, too,
that process,
that search,
journey,
his darkness...
it stretched on for what he presumed was his
eternity.
He was scared.
He was alone.
And then,
he triumphed;
he needed no one.
And then,
out flew a newly
transformed
him.
Out to the world,
new world,
brighter world,
out he came...
a butterfly.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
inspired by Ben Noah Suri
<*>
come to us in twilight, and just before sunrise,
in the in~between times, when souls exit and enter.
through microscopic cosmic windows, and there
is nothing but you and the full emptiness of earth
and then!
fill our void with words as yet unborn,
and aid all our passages from nether to glory...
for you,
we, await...
for guidance inherited from
all your visions of greater-than-us metamorphosis
<*>
upon first awakening and reaffirmation of life,
reading the first poem of the day
6:59am
Sabbath
Sep 13
2025
Sep 20, 2025
Sep 20, 2025 at 7:01 AM UTC
Ever heard your voice take a trip mid sentence
And start scrambling eggs,
Ending sentences with verbs,
Mixing Soy sauce with Bacardi
And chasing the laughter down your throat with onions
Cuckolding in the middle of the afternoon
Where violet doesn’t recognize blue
As a hue worthy enough to frolic with the afternoon dew,
And then your brain smiles to your ******
And you choke on a giggle
And wiggle an index finger just a little
And remember black widows
Were once angels who bought into self fulfilling prophecies
Like wearing Armani suits barefoot
And breathing through your skin
Hoping life doesn’t die in your arms
And leave a beautiful corpse
With great stories suffocating inside
And make the subpar ambitions of an unborn child jealous.
Now ever heard a genius cry?
‘cause then you’ve heard an artist cry.
Ever ate pork fried rice on a Sunday afternoon?
‘cause if you have you’ve heard the words of Leviticus cry.
Ever read these written words?
‘cause if you have you’ve heard memories die
And pains scream in alphabets of pleasure—
The universal language of immaculate deception
That sweeps through every tongue in involuntary pneumonia
Like waltzing to the Amen’s of the devil
With oxygen choking your nostrils
And monoxide nodding your fingers to pull the trigger
Of death dancing on the tomb of your destiny
Like how a dose of metamorphosis
And a 1mg of juxtaposition
Is the repertoire of a king of curmudgeon.
But ever heard a musical note?
Then you’ve heard the story of how joy lost the war of happiness to bitterness.
Ever heard the sound of silence?
Then you’ve heard the face of evil and the thoughts of serenity
Joined at the hip of rock of Gibraltar,
Nodding heads at the gospels of Gothic prophets
Spewing sermons of a perfecter way to word the meaning of love.
Ever heard a Mockingjay sing?
Then you’ve heard the lullabies of suicide,
Like falling from grace from the eyes of your one true love
And landing on the plastic bag made of her silence
Only to wake from the land of death and catch your voice breaking at mid sentence
And mend it with the lies of sunshine that you call your life.
May 11, 2012
May 11, 2012 at 2:51 PM UTC