"nomes" poems
the Nephelaen mediatrix sings
fating an ambrosia synchrony of tones
she volves her telic tepals ripe:
areoles ensorcelled under alate nomes
she heralds petrichoric quench
with nova womb
to subtend violet ray
in stellar bloom, noema web:
sensate fontanels
in spite of dessication's wrench
are concresced atmospheric balms
of evanescent nervure, calyces
displayed to sky-crossed home,
unpillared and ovoid
.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 8:07 AM UTC
This Gen Z Kid..
This teen of mine..
This Young Man I'm reminded..He's my final Son.
This fast growing radiant dark horse
runnin around under the blaze of the hot sun.
Now He's grown into this tall knight champion.
Radiant chilled dark stallion.
He is unique admired and I'm in awe of His Being.
@Times I'd call him the hurricane..
Inwardly lays talents that can become gifted fame.
I believe He hears.. That voice of God.
When God calls his name.
This new kinda techno son.. Video emerged.. Youtube is his tv..
This son is Gen Z!
The cusp of millennials the beginnings of Generation Z.
Our Norms and traditions bothers them none. Open free and caring emotional nomes..
In the virtual reality chemistry..
Chilling inside their rooms in the safety of homes.
My Sons a precious commodity.
What technology wiz will he turn out to be.
Gaming entertaining.. mental challenging.
The Sons who'll be parents to the next Generation of Alpha's..
Babies entertained by notebooks of cellphone tablets.
More then societies adopted habits.
Babes that are digital natives on cellphones genetic cultures.
Terminology texted media exposures.
Data and gigabytes.. downloads and high speeds.
Swiping before being taught a first school lesson.
This is the generation..Z The Digital Sons.
Written by [email protected] (C)2018
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 1:01 PM UTC
Amigos queridos,
sem faces e sem nomes.
Retiradas foram suas vísceras,
logo antes de seus corpos imergirem
em um exacerbadamente denso volume de sangue
grotesca e plenamente apreciado
pelos algozes responsáveis,
certos irreconhecíveis demônios.
Vieram dos *** os tais tiranos,
visíveis, mas imateriais,
enquanto esperávamos
inconscientes e inevitavelmente despreparados
para uma luta justa.
Sobre os indiferentes, distantes,
mas ainda amigáveis e queridos companheiros,
ainda recordo de alguma ordem:
O primeiro não sentiu dor alguma,
bem como nada viu ou percebeu; fora partido ao meio.
O segundo, já desesperado e afogando-se em lagrimas,
tornou-se borrão de um vermelho pesado, grosso e brutal;
Dos outros, três ou quatro,
somente tenho em mente os gemidos inexprimíveis;
uma junção entre suspiros e soluços
de uma morte nada convidativa e próxima.
Foram todos rostos sem faces perdidos
na espera do desconhecido fatalmente promulgado
pelas minhas ânsias.
O ultimo vivo me induziu à única ação possível:
pude cair meus quinhentos intermináveis metros;
deslizando, enquanto tentava me segurar,
por um material recoberto de farpas
que transpassavam minhas mãos,
as quais sangravam em direção a um mar, sombrio e obscuro;
me afundei irremediavelmente em minhas próprias aflições.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 8:21 PM UTC
exhaust’d thru months of
stress’d quandaries. have
clear’d the worst. and
i ripped through older
pages, stealing the words
that sound’d best. the
only ones
able to fluidly
patch fragments. brake.
been a long couple day(s);
singular, i guess. and
the sassy black chick,
she doesn’t give a ****
never did. and friend is
asking why, asking
questions of the sky.
- what if what’s complicated
is so because we never
let it be easy?
infectious thoughts of
what to do to complicate, or
of how we might proliferate.
and ringing:
- why not just be easy?
and ringing:
- you’re just going to have to
stop having fun for a while.
and ringing:
- i mean, not quit, but
ease up. don’t spend
your money.
knowing is ninety-percent
of the problem with
stubbornness. and remem-
bering when first told
to get on with it –
to let go –
the other ten-percent.
and being one day closer –
to be one minute closer –
brings restlessness. and
i lay my head to rest, if
only to pass time as lids
squeeze light from eyes.
and thoughts, peaceful a
moment prior, begin to
rage. to thrash and stomp.
to draw from dead qualms
and questions. and past
turbulences become reali-
gn’d. yet,
most were left behind or
under the Pinelawn.
something missing,
memories of how her
**** were like tiger claws.
brake. get on with it.
and the vessels of my eye
throb in ticks. forcing
metronome. and i count the
seconds, the seconds
on minutes
on hours
on eternity. and if
i were here – if
i were awake – when
the sun came ‘round,
then perhaps the metro-
nomes tick would cease. or,
let it go, get on with the
passing of time.
getting on with it, to
force the dawn sun
to rise of me.
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
only one cinematic adaptation of a work of literature made me want to read the original script with the exclusion of the narrator... stendhal's the scarlet and black, i traded linkin park's hybrid theory with a friend for a second-hand copy for him to buy it for me near trafalgar sq., no other work i can mention, which i find very odd; starring rachel weisz and ewan mcgregor.
i learned young to read the works of the (g)nostic (g)nomes,
and even though i did that, in order to not meet the bishop
and not be confirmed, i found it hard to find a celebration
and feast day of a saint to meet a cardinal... in any other way
than to meet a cardinal reading alex dumas’ the three muskateers
and the scheming cardinal richelieu (ceelo green /
tim curry a.k.a. frank n’ furter), i guess my chance of
meeting the pope would be reduced to being a baby.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC
Acho que a gente
Olha a os demais
Com o olho da mente
Você me calma
Do meu coração
Até os profundezas da minha alma
Eu fique com homens
que falavam que me amavam
Mas confundi sus golpes
Y os nomes que me chamavam
Com as carícias do amor
Que lamentavelmente deixavam
meu corpo de um cor
De azul e vermelho
Acho que você me olha
com o olho da mente
Você não é como os outros
Você não é como os demais
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 12:21 AM UTC
quando o teu olhar caiu no meu,
me encontrei de novo em outro céu.
descobri o portão da alma
e toquei teu coração com calma.
nos teus olhos eu me perdi
e me apaixonei pelo que vi.
apreciei estas cores,
para quais não existem nomes.
nem nos meus sonhos achei estes tons.
e naquele segundo,
estava olhando nos olhos
mais lindos do mundo.
- gio, 23.07.2017
Mar 26, 2020
Mar 26, 2020 at 12:23 PM UTC
People came to me and told me
You lost your mind
Because I'm not interested to
follow false rituals of society
People call me aitheit
But my question to all community
Please can you elaborate
What do you mean by rituals
As per your nomes...
**** a little angel in womb of her mum
To cut off feathers of girls
Captured her in dark night
Behaved with her like labour
And consider her as machine of boy child
If these all are the call rituals
I admire to say that
Yes I lost my mind
May 9, 2019
May 9, 2019 at 2:46 PM UTC