"multiplicity" poems
Day by day I fritter away
Observing decorum as best I may
Meet me as you meet — reserved somebody
Leave me as you leave — dull nobody
Dreary, weary, listless, spiritless
A resting spirit clamours to emerge
Unguided, wild, free and seeking
Boldly defying reserved somebody
But how, just how do I unleash this defiant spirit
For it is to cross all conceivable limits
Oh but a mask, of course a mask!
The perfect accessory for this task!
Careless of propriety
Boastful of daring
Acting against my will
Or in tandem with it?
This mask — just now I can't discern
Ponder I do with great concern
Does it shield my identity
Or render truth to it?
So now just what fun in masks
One may ponderously ask
Masks, bring to life fantasy
Fantasy, a realm of our reality
Reality, wherein lies multiplicity
Multiplicity, within each individuality
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 11:04 AM UTC
Truth holds many faces, like how fractured mirror show multiplicity.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 4:07 AM UTC
*Real learning we
learn from
a red bicycle..
Movement is
conversation of
oppositions..
Without conversation
differences reign..
We soon find
multiplicity growing
and peace disturbed..
Red reminds us
each difference relates
to other differences..
Relating is unifying
bringing the peace
Red turns Blue...*
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 5:44 PM UTC
Yeah it's one shot one ****
Plottin' against my enemies will soon to be killed
Bullets feedin' ya last meal
Dope rhymes sedatin' like pharmacy pills
Since hataz got no chill heads I'll drill now you leakin' out like oil spills
Or a radiator angelic caters none could create a
Flows nasty as mine poppin' a multiplicity of shells I'm one of a kind
Thoughts intertwined
****** into a demons intervention contenders in suspension from the soul lynching
Caught in the realms of heaven and hell & you can smell
The ashes burning fermentin'
time runnin' slower than molasses
My murders be classic enemies dramatic causin' static
Shoot more than Bird combined with Magic
Workin' my Johnson on the tracks tonsils sittin' as a hip hop consul underground magul
**** longer than Repunzels hair follicles
Cookin' up sigils into a *** of gold no rainbow snortin' sir nose
D'void of Funk rattlin' the earth from the bass in my trunk blazin' skunks
Abraxas I'm embracin' one of my goetias when facin' ain't no replacin'
Fools givin' chase
and to tastes of demonic faces
My flows replenish like **** laces
Blunts turn into ashes dump it out on the masses
Epidemic mase deaden your pace hazardous like toxic waste
Adversaries don't wanna face
Off like Nicolas to Travolta livin' in an ultra violent culture
Cleatin' into ya flesh I be the stalkin' Vulture mulchin' ya
'til ya
A dissembled particle blank photo in the article from curvin' emcees with my surgical
lyrical sickle stare into ya eyes as the blood trickles
Down ya body you easily brickled rhymes artificial
My soul sour as a pickle no tickles
Could move me or influence thee my legacy
Lay cinematography like A. Hitchcock in the 50s huh
Ya soon to be a death reel for thrills
Rememeber
All I need is one shot one **** forreal!!!!
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 4:57 PM UTC
*trigger, strong language
Soy un puñal
certero al corazón
de la construcción social
I am a ******
flaming ******
*** (repeat after me…)
fagggggg
faaaaaggggggg:
soy una fogata
I am fire and heat
I raise from the ashes
of hundreds of years
of silence, love and tears
soy joto, maricon, rarito
I am queer
poderoso, vulnerable
soy “bonito”
soy pajaro, pato, ****
I can fly, i’ve got wings tu sabes
don’t **** with me
soy astuto
soy perra
soy una fiera
mi cuerpo
cruza fronteras
como si fuera coyote
as if I was a pollera
soy de la mano caída
mi mano apunta a la tierra
por que soy fuerza divina
I am multiplicity
survivor, resister
soy grande
como mi madre, como mi abuela
I am all powerful, sublime
if I wasn’t
why would you feel so threaten
at the mere sight of my eyes…
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 4:56 AM UTC
The will o' the wisp is
displayed on the screen of
conventions. There are those
who pretend to decipher it;
by borrowing philosophical speculations from the great
thinkers, they formulate a
critical reading, justifying the
poverty of the lexicon.
They dare to do so.
On the other hand there is
Poetry, sat on a bench
in a park somewhere, on a
rock nearby the ocean, on
an old chair in a remote room
without any other furniture,
on the pillow made with papers
of a clochard,
on the cover of an unabridged
book nobody wants.
On the trembling hand of a
young lover who picks flowers
for her, that remain forever
between the pages of a diary.
Poetry is in the multiplicity of life,
in the thousands layers, either
red or grey, that compound the
variety of the existence. It can't
escape feelings, love, roses,
tears, grief, graveyards and
gardens. And, even when it turns
to be redundant with naivety, it
keeps the greatness of its end
which is nothing else but itself.
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 10:40 AM UTC
You can feel the rush surging through your body.
Non-stop electricity coursing through your veins.
The power is corruption stealing your soul.
Your desires in multiplicity,
acts recurring again and again.
Men become monsters hunting their prey.
Lusting without discretion,
Lilith lures their low-life souls.
Jul 15, 2011
Jul 15, 2011 at 7:08 PM UTC
renegade memories
relentless effrontery
rogue fractured intruders
a formulable formidable aside inside
man is a modified monkey
a jackdaw in peacock's feathers
contradictions, the multiplicity that is a unity
a patchwork of odds and ends
snips and snails
dreams and delusions
hopes and fears
a mystifying knot of phantasmagoric disquietude
agape in a stupefied bewilderment
as an autistic child swept up in minutiae
inscrutable incongruities
melange of matters beyond explanations
maundering machinates
necessary inventions repeating and reforming
sheltering some aspect of the mind's deforming
'reaction formations' sotto voce instructs the analyst
defending emotions at the personalities bequest
merrily merrily merrily merrily, life is but a dream
psychotherapy is no mere scheme
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 8:04 PM UTC
"How beautiful are your tents, O Jacob,
Your dwelling places, O Israel!"
Thy children gather,
telescoping generations,
O Jacob, what do thine eyes ascertain.
what history do they memorize?
Coalescing younger star clusters,
disparate related families uniting,
embedding as a single unity,
a star cloud,
shedding a new light,
the astronomers awed, witnesses,
a super-star cluster birthed.
The beauty of thy tents,
thy wealth, O Jacob,
is their multiplicity,
their construct and content.
The web of thy tissue,
bindings, linkages,
what resides within thy tents,
acknowledge, testify, that
the strength of thy issue,
are the Matriarchs,
managers of thy destiny,
mothers of thy dynasty,
The Sarah's, Leah's, the Rachel's,
the Fay's, the Ginger's, the Miriam's
these jewels bedeck, beautify,
brides and bridles of thy tents,
master mistresses of thy dwellings,
without them, O Jacob,
you, but, just,
another desert tribe.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
The eye altering alters all
William Blake, The Mental Traveller
in this fall
it's the sky of the eye that's falling
in the aquarium of time
fish swim in the shape of our memory
my reflection dissolves in unfolded thoughts,
in the maze of forgotten hours
a mythical hope starves the multiplicity of dreams
light colludes with its absence but
it's mind time, the burning hours let go of self-deception
there are twists and turns in our soberness
love is the art of inside seeing
how the vulnerability of truth gets expelled
by the mouth of time
Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 5:53 AM UTC
Culminating capacity
Daunting density
Varying velocity
Variable veracity
Surging sagacity
Divulging diversity
Tenable tenacity
Laudable audacity
Nurturing nicety
Progressive propensity
Unified university
Simple implicitly
Ample simplicity
Undulating atrocity
Unassailable animosity
Scaring scarcity
Pausing paucity
Causing curiosity
Generating generosity
Magnificent mega-city
Multitude of multiplicity
Pervading perplexity
Wow! City of complexity
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
Only some things make sense.
Like full stops. No, they hardly make sense these days too.
The sun? No, not when you get down to it.
One tries not exaggerate,
but when the laws of physics
start to state
that the
only order is chaos
and that our Universe
for most of time
doesn't exist.
Or exists in different contexts
with different people
and different outcomes.
so either we exist in multiplicity
or not all.
One tends to exaggerate.
Why?
Saying nothing makes sense.
Sounds appropriate.
Sure.
We can function.
We know how to ********
But that’s the thing,
We make sense through lacking
This is it
Entropy
The natural turn to chaos.
Makes sense,
When you try to hold the handle
It breaks,
And you’re stuck
Entropy.
When you
Saw
Heared
Smelled
Touched
Tasted
Her for the first time
Entropy.
You – I? – were too far gone
Entropy.
You’ve fallen into chaos
Interesting...
As opposed to falling in love?
Makes sense.
Many would say it’s not at all like that.
Some of us are a little damaged.
Bruised. Scratched. Broken.
We don’t squeak.
We don’t light up.
We don’t walk.
A little damaged.
Some you can only hear the damage
When you shake them.
Broken bits are flung around.
Others, you hear nothing at all.
Full stops.
They use to make sense.
Now they look like commas.
Or exclamation points. Bang.
but yes if i flung my punctuation out
the window it would
not make sense as we
wouldntfunctionintheslightest
without the whitespace.
Let’s bring back the Universe
The sun
The nothing
The everything
The full stops
The periods
I’ll end my cryptic harangue
And step back from my rant.
It was grand to know you
And I’m ecstatic to consider
This:
Maybe in one of all those other
Universes,
It made sense
Rather that
Than not
Existing
At all.
Aug 9, 2011
Aug 9, 2011 at 7:51 AM UTC
The chorus: morning glory, holy, blue;
the chirping of the blue birds wholly true
is unlike ambiguity; the birds
are certain in their beauty void of words.
There's something in the air 'mid summer night;
the crickets call divine to poet's pen.
The rhapsode speaks to truth beyond his sight,
adorned by form, possessed beyond his ken.
The dialogues of man and poem surge
as meaning's multiplicity is found
in one unspoken statement to resound
through poems, all, encompassed by the urge.
The butterfly that surging clear in sight,
like poetry, is whimsical in flight.
Feb 22, 2012
Feb 22, 2012 at 3:40 AM UTC
Culminating capacity
Daunting density
Varying velocity
Variable veracity
Surging sagacity
Divulging diversity
Tenable tenacity
Laudable audacity
Nurturing nicety
Progressive propensity
Unified university
Simple implicitly
Ample simplicity
Undulating atrocity
Unassailable animosity
Scaring scarcity
Pausing paucity
Causing curiosity
Generating generosity
Magnificent mega-city
Multitude of multiplicity
Wow! City of complexity
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 8:47 PM UTC
for Maria
if you have lived with me for more than a day,
you know I hero worship each individual word
in my birthed American English language
as is my style, I oft honor it with a poem,
but begin indubitably with a definition
Base
is such a word that deserves a recitation
for complex it is, a multiplicity of uses,
a word of many characters,
a word so unusual,
to the French I defer,
un mot plein de mystère
see its complexity,
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/base
a base is:
your bedrock, your cornerstone,
on firm footing your base must exist
t'is a groundwork word,
a keystone cop,
a root underpinning,
your warp,
your woof
Your children
so when taken,
when the spiritual
is crushingly wrong*
sometimes I feel like a motherless child,
*tense all wrong,
all wrong perversed,
the words reversed
You understand the nuance of words
so much better, and you
engage it
for now the word, just
enrages
Base
my new base
is
bad, black, evil, foul, immoral, iniquitous,
wrong and cruel
my new base-full state now,
my new base-less state now
this is my base now,
now that my organs,
cut from my body,
cannot be restored
Base is my life
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 5:51 AM UTC
Dear friends many of you have moved
from surroundings I knew and loved with you
but my memories of us have not defused
like clouds hanging dark but always new.
In old age it is the memories that flow
and make you present with hearts beating wildly
times we drank beer decrying the status quo
and when we celebrated little things like being Friday.
We celebrated a lot when life was so full
alive with discoveries, conflicts, and diversity
when our desires and thoughts pushed and pulled
and we felt pain and hope in multiplicity.
But now so many of you are gone
to places unknown: some to you and some to me
and together we won’t know joys of new dawns
we will deal with things like that **** aching knee.
For some of you your children are grown
for me poetry, love, and God enliven and wake me up
but nobody can take from me the bonds I have known
bonds cast with you in sharing, caring, and lifting life’s cup.
In long moments in a waiting room
trying to ignore the next challenge of my body
I’ll be grateful. I’ll not dwell in spaces of doom
I’ll remember those times of being good or naughty.
I’ll visit the rooms and the halls
where we gathered to learn and teach
in those precious moments of my recall
I’ll gather you together for the universes we’ve yet to reach.
Written 6-30-18
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 8:10 AM UTC
Questioning the mind of the Madman
The mind of the mad man.
Is it swayed by truth or choice.
Does he stand stoic in his world or is it just insecurity.
His thoughts, they darken, through every hour.
In duplicate multiplicity in every dream he weaves.
Dreams become nightmares,in the real world.
In a world where all his blessings, have somehow been mislaid.
He feels minuscule, while in a noisy audience.
He's terrified of commitment and the contentment, which it brings.
In a lovelorn fantasy.
Afraid, to breach decisions that he's already made.
He feels that although they click, to love her back may make him sick.
In realization that he feels real, but he doesn't need a broken heart.
Sits and sobs all alone.
His beautiful fantasy has gone.
She stands in the spotlight.
She's open and kind.
While he deals with his major battles in mind.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 4:03 AM UTC
The needle drops, and
there is a light pull
on a lover's hand
The needle lifts to rest once again
Fingers brush, not sure
if they are permanent
A multiplicity of canva
Each being filled
With a lover's new muse
The needle drops
Fingers brush, never
To touch again
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 8:36 PM UTC
She is the water bearing spirit
near the lake at night
Combine this mild duality
to trickle down and decide.
What trusty steed to ride upon
What unwritten creed to follow through
To follow a path rarely walked along
with such blessings from a single few.
A connection split by folicles
Words spoke and motions methodical
Cherished cohabitation and
an Astonishing Conflugration
That rewards our Versimilitude
with love.
My four hands can guide you
my steady minds can show
Though i carry less than water
My true passion is to grow.
My mild to frank multiplicity
Your Bold and cautious stance
to consumate our loves authenticity
I'll, for you, rarely take this chance.
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 12:50 PM UTC
Things I'll Never Be
So many things I'll never be,
elegant, tall and thin,
with an Englishman's confidence.
Blonde and beautiful, transformational, radiating,
possessing a Marilyn Monroe spell magical,
nope, not me.
Some things I was, I'll never be again.
Never be a sad-eyed teenager again, and for this,
in my morning prayers, I utter a blessing,
(tho my hormones have yet to be informed!)
Soul of brevity, poetically,
I'll never be, this insightful critique,
("Your poems are too long")
I've received in multiplicity, from sources internationally,
perhaps, lucky me, you've read this far?
Surely still a chance that an angel will touch my lips,
my internal parts sign a final treaty, inside an armistice,
night sweats sighs a thing fully forgot,
poetry writing can now be dispatched,
maybe that will be my Act III,
if I can stay awake for it.
Switches in my brain are shutting down this elegy,
knowing that a dozen stanzas will die stillborn,
so herein and here now, the door closes,
a parting shot escapes over the door sill.
A joy thin threads within, pumped thru my ventricles,
brook springs from sources non-DNA, holy external,
oft hid, well disguised under actor's white face makeup,
this peculiar joy, as long as it embraces me and I, it,
I'll never be unhappy any more.
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
I deny this multiplicity of being
And
I invoke the infinite
for I AM
——————————
Call me the soul seeker, the mystic, the mage
I am Brahman, I am creation
I am becoming, I am manifest
I am death
I am nothing
I am all
I strive ever towards death
So I can flow back into life
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 9:58 PM UTC