"monad" poems
Summon she that burns within
Fierce shamaness, the goddess divine
The blessed witch & the evil ******
bear her forth unto this plane
She who calls the wind
She that leads the fire
Intent.
Intent.
Intent,
She that is, eternal quest, divine union.
The yin, the yang, the monad within the circle of light
She that is the circle.
She that is the light.
That is within.
That is.
Is.
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 7:10 PM UTC
We slump in mismatched chairs. Two hunches
over shame and a 3am breakfast, I think:
*There’s gotta be a reason why art rhymes with ****
If you want anything to go anywhere with any respectable…affect,
the force of pressure on the inside must exceed that from the outside.
Interrupting this genius, He asks:
How can you eat that crap? It’s so…empty.
He is flipping through his coffeeblack back pocket note rag.
It’s soiled, wrinkled concave with the ever-heaving
stomachfuls of his inky midnight doubt, and I would really
rather not have it at the table while I’m eating.
I am pouring another glorious bowl of Frooty Froot Hoops—yeasty,
store-brand sugarfuel for the lower-middle-income child poet.
He spends another tasteless oatmeal evening
reading essays about how to improve his writing.
Instead of, like, writing to improve his writing.
I ask:
If you took a knife to the edge of your boundary’s boundary—stabbed right into your life-world’s fleshy monad-sac,
glory running ****** down your blade,
As you breached forth into the well-lit unknown,
would it still be courageous, if you emerged from
your warm wet ignorance, and they were all waiting outside with mylar balloons, a banner, and "Congratulations on your Artistic Rupture!”
in blue icing on the cake??
There's still a moment there, right?
Petrified in the sap of thrill, in the momentous-stasis between
The arrow flung and the arrow fallen. A moment of
advancement …a moment of abandon!
(He nods along, but he isn't listening.)
I say:
Newness, originality, (birth), is purely indexical.
It points, and no one notices that all those shiny vegas lights aren't really moving anywhere—It's just utility bills and light-bulb trickery.
They're asking for genesis extended, genesis again and again
and each false gesture points only towards another
incandescent unreachable elsewhere.
(He nods along, still, not listening.)
But there's little monotony in taking a stab!
Even if it's just for them, again, those perennial spectators expecting,
Waiting outside with ***** little pocket notebooks of their own,
crowding the bassinets, ever-eager to begin another “surprise" celebration.
Gulping sweet, sugarpink milk, I say:
I happen to like this crap!
It keeps my knife sharp.
(He nods along, but he isn't listening.)
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC
Fertile earth’s seductive sorcery
Like ephemeral effulgence’s effluent effusion
Can lead you to believe that it’s not a travesty
Like life’s visceral intuitive eternal is not lost in subtle evasive confusion
Life’s virile translucence reflects this glow
Like an aorist ensemble of interludes transposition
Can lead you to believe that you’re in the know
Like omnipresence presages omniscience’s ubiquity is existential exigency’s peroration’s exposition
Corporeally preternatural metaphysical mystique
Like a mirador bartizan tableau panorama
Can inspire us to rise above its critique
Like spatiotemporal’s telemetry incarnate is creation’s vivid intrepid cyclorama
Spectral verve’s liaison’s consortium
Like eclectic synectic’s conclave’s fatidic
Can leave you lost in germane compendium
Like terminus thrall’s apriori inclination is transcendental accession’s endemic mnemonic
Monad’s transitional majestic splendor
Like residual harmonic vibration’s resilience
Can autonomously evoke and vicariously render
Like rubato’s actuator’s prospectus revealed is orchestration rendition’s intriguing brilliance
Eidetic preterit’s aesthetic amendments
Like protractive analyses’ dimensional delineation
Can lead to cogent salacious enticements
Like phantasmagoria’s fantasia fantastication’s magniloquence is sultry solace’s ostentatious ideation
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
Fertile earth’s seductive sorcery
Like ephemeral effulgence’s effluent effusion
Can lead you to believe that it’s not a travesty
Like life’s visceral intuitive eternal is not lost in subtle evasive confusion
Life’s virile translucence reflects this glow
Like an aorist ensemble of interludes transposition
Can lead you to believe that you’re in the know
Like omnipresence presages omniscience’s ubiquity is existential exigency’s peroration’s exposition
Corporeally preternatural's metaphysical mystique
Like a mirador bartizan tableau panorama
Can inspire us to rise above its critique
Like spatiotemporal’s telemetry incarnate is creation’s vivid intrepid cyclorama
Spectral verve’s liaison’s consortium
Like eclectic synectic’s conclave’s fatidic
Can leave you lost in germane compendium
Like terminus thrall’s apriori inclination is transcendental accession’s endemic mnemonic
Monad’s transitional majestic splendor
Like residual harmonic vibration’s resilience
Can autonomously evoke and vicariously render
Like rubato’s actuator’s prospectus revealed is orchestration rendition’s intriguing brilliance
Eidetic preterit’s aesthetic amendments
Like protractive analyses’ dimensional delineations
Can lead to cogent salacious enticements
Like phantasmagoria’s fantasia fantastication’s magniloquence is sultry solace’s ostentatious ideation
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 2:47 AM UTC
Monad, Blood So Ancient In my veins
I can smell from across the room
Pheromones so thick they make my lips wet
Eyelash pet me till I'm curled up at your feet
Do you love me?
Look at my fur and my muscle
Head held high (Look how beautiful I am)
My teeth are sharp and I am a painting of scars
Do my eyes speak my heart?
I am true
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC
Monad
Your blood runs, ancient in your veins
Whispers of past eons slither through the dim caves
I write the whispers here for you by torchlight
weary and lonesome
Words fall over words in the dark
I try to sleep but their chanting melts into my dreams...
Unimaginable horrors that I cannot tell in words
While awake
With every cell of my being
I will not think of her
I will not
But I dream
She is there entwined with the terrible phantasms
Telling me
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
VW buses headed to Haight
and Ashbury
In San Francisco to
meet a man
We brought the acid to
expand our consciousness
that's what Tim Leary suggested
And you need to feed your head
like Jefferson Airplane said
Just go ask Alice
Yes we brought the psychedelics
and our bus is painted
in pastel peace signs and
purple Shiva's
We wove flowers in our braid
we ran barefoot
and climbed the trees
They said that the hippies are dead
but The Grateful has yet to
perform their last gig
love love love, man
it's our religion
R.I.P John Lennon
***** Warhol's banana and
Campbell's soup
But we miss Lou Reed and Nico too
Yes the summer of love was in 67'
and Woodstock was a muddy heaven
We watched every episode of Laugh-In
but it wasn't always sunshine and dandelions
like when a runaway overdoses
from ******
It was a wave no one remembers
but to everything there is a season
Freaks with beards at the drive-in
R.I.P Janis Joplin
We were all California Dreamin'
Jack Kerouac the dharma ***
was friends with Neal Cassady
the other-worldly monad
A time of innocence
a time of confidences
And so we are here bumming
cigarettes and joints
with talk about the Manson Family
and Sharon Tate
We are all here so come along
but in the meantime
I'd love to turn you on.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 11:58 PM UTC
Fertile earth’s seductive sorcery
Like ephemeral effulgence’s effluent effusion
Can lead you to believe that it’s not a travesty
Like life’s visceral intuitive eternal is not lost in subtle evasive confusion
Life’s virile translucence reflects this glow
Like an aorist ensemble of interludes transposition
Can lead you to believe that you’re in the know
Like omnipresence presages omniscience’s ubiquity is existential exigency’s peroration’s exposition
Corporeally preternatural's metaphysical mystique
Like a mirador bartizan tableau panorama
Can inspire us to rise above its critique
Like spatiotemporal’s telemetry incarnate is creation’s vivid intrepid cyclorama
Spectral verve’s liaison’s consortium
Like eclectic synectics' conclave’s fatidic
Can leave you lost in germane compendium
Like terminus thrall’s apriori inclination is transcendental accession’s endemic mnemonic
Monad’s transitional majestic splendor
Like residual harmonic vibration’s resilience
Can autonomously evoke and vicariously render
Like rubato’s actuator’s prospectus revealed is orchestration rendition’s intriguing brilliance
Eidetic preterit’s aesthetic amendments
Like protractive analyses’ dimensional delineations
Can lead to cogent salacious enticements
Like phantasmagoria’s fantasia fantastication’s magniloquence is sultry solace’s ostentatious ideation
Oct 2, 2020
Oct 2, 2020 at 5:04 PM UTC
We harmonize
together sometimes
still, on mountainous hill-
sides, when the winds blow
together and echo through caves,
canyons. Hollow logs. Presented darknesses:
wolves, foxes.. Thieves, betrayers. Energies
are so varied, if only we could download an imprint of their view. What would it seem? I can’t imagine ever being absolute on aspects, ideas, ideals. Anymore at least. I guess that’s
just my current absolute.
I resist, intents I set,
out of cowardice
Fear to unify
Shaken down the road
Solid monad. Brittle tendrils
Sweet the senses, share intense
to procure inclusion, boundless plenties
prone incisions unfold yr own rhythms
emboldening, appreciating in an expansion
pressing, but really, more of a soft glide
of understanding for the thrill
Nov 13, 2020
Nov 13, 2020 at 9:18 PM UTC
Fertile earth’s seductive sorcery
Like ephemeral effulgence’s effluent effusion
Can lead you to believe that it’s not a travesty
Like life’s visceral intuitive eternal is not lost in subtle evasive confusion
Life’s virile translucence reflects this glow
Like an aorist ensemble of interludes transposition
Can lead you to believe that you’re in the know
Like omnipresence presages omniscience’s ubiquity is existential exigency’s peroration’s exposition
Corporeally preternatural's metaphysical mystique
Like a mirador bartizan tableau panorama
Can inspire us to rise above its critique
Like spatiotemporal’s telemetry incarnate is creation’s vivid intrepid cyclorama
Spectral verve’s liaison’s consortium
Like eclectic synectics' conclave’s fatidic
Can leave you lost in germane compendium
Like terminus thrall’s apriori inclination is transcendental accession’s endemic mnemonic
Monad’s transitional majestic splendor
Like residual harmonic vibration’s resilience
Can autonomously evoke and vicariously render
Like rubato’s actuator’s prospectus revealed is orchestration rendition’s intriguing brilliance
Eidetic preterit’s aesthetic amendments
Like protractive analyses’ dimensional delineations
Can lead to cogent salacious enticements
Like phantasmagoria’s fantasia fantastication’s magniloquence is sultry solace’s ostentatious ideations
Nov 1, 2024
Nov 1, 2024 at 9:05 AM UTC
Wishing to be a grad
Now though a lad,
Can be sweet as Chad.
Many get to write a pad
Exams and become sad;
Results make them monad
Make loose courage had –
Isn’t this too bad?
So be a brave lad.
There will some tad;
World differ like dad,
You always try to add
Vigour to your try; be mad.
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 6:26 AM UTC
[BLAST BEAT]
I want to draw The Tower, instead I draw The Star: I want to crash, instead I keep sailing in the wind.
My wings keep moving even though I remain static under.
Sailing to the same points like the small ready-knots, (ready-knot, i.e., the invisible atom that doesn't move but look as if it is moving because of our eyesight; didn't you pay attention when the world was created?) though I am the 10th house, the macrocosm.
I cover my face with my hands: my wings keep moving: I cover because fear.
I bite the skin on my knuckles.
I wish I could fall apart: I wish I could tumble like a grain of sand down the dune into a pile of build up, yet someone won't let me collect.
Sreda throws me into His hurrcaning gales, I remain the same. The Monad rotates me over His fire, I remain the same.
I step over Your coal, Your knives, Your deluge; clumsily, yet I do.
My wings keep moving: everything I have could fall apart, my wings keep moving, and I cover my face out of fear.
You can call me the lamb, you can say I don't listen, you can call me weak and misunderstood, you can call me the small turtle dove, for I cover my face out of fear.
Though I don't want it to, my feathered sails glide through the skyscape; though I can't control it, I sail through white and blue; though I don't want to, I sail through nebulae tinged with unfinished fevers;
I peak through my fingers, eyes bright as a new-born cosmos, and I sometimes examine the pretty color of You, Father of Shine, and I sometimes study the tracks of You, Prince of Buoyancy. [BLAST BEAT]
I peak through my fingers, rain drops fall through these cracks, and I sometimes like the feel of your rays, Sun, and I sometimes like the feel of your winds, Mercury.
I stay far and cold and remaining: my wings keep moving, I keep sailing.
* [note]
I speak to you, the world, and to You, the avatar and the avatar:
feeling special again, please, someone put me in my place /
the monopolization / the vanity / the selfishness /
look how many I's are in my name:
feeling special again, please, someone put me in my place.
Aug 13, 2019
Aug 13, 2019 at 9:02 AM UTC
Id, the un-manifest;
is key to expressing
god a manifestation
of creation from an
un-manifest monad
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 10:27 AM UTC