"nonlinear" poems
Her legs hang low,
just above the night's whispering tide,
illuminated only by dawn's dim light.
Polar limbs and the nonlinear confide.
She does not hide. No, not on this night.
Her outstretched arms
question the supposed limitless oblivion.
For foot by mile, lightyear by revolution,
she has seen everything:
Loves enactment upon re-enactment,
The crying of the lost and lonely infant,
the rodent's of the night that creep and crawl along
a city's cobblestone streets,
and she has seen two worlds fall asleep
time and time again.
The moon has already heard forever
yet each night she listens to a different tune.
The moon is forever.
The light and the wise coccoon.
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 8:47 AM UTC
She differentiated herself from society, thinking that her life would never intersect with another's.
Her irrational thinking was harmful, she called herself odd.
"Think positively" they said, "the outcomes are countless.
Life is nonlinear, it's not as simple as x=y.
It may not always make sense but you will make it add up."
She had no proof.
She hated the sine wave of life, her countable infinity that she wanted to stop.
The probability of her meeting her congruent mate was 7,000,000,000:1
Until the day her life was bisected by a girl.
The girl was her complimentary angle, her stationery point, her happy infinity.
She was integrated.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 6:15 PM UTC
On Tuesdays I dream of moon-soaked swims among bay-big moons
Silver saucered jellyfish that ripple through our hands
Wednesday nights are underground-
Straight whiskey at the Cantab beneath a canopy of Marlboros and Parliaments
(I’m imagining the cigarettes-
I’ve always romanticized death)
I only think of Sunfish on Thursdays,
Just a single sheet and us and the water
And the thought that we are propelled by more
Than the wind and less than physics.
Fridays are midnight walks through Central Square-
That tree on JFK by the metal gate,
The cab I chased after. Your jacket.
I awake early on Saturdays to your blue wall
And freshly made yerba, lectures on nonlinear differentials.
On Sundays we sleep late,
Wrapped in sub-letted sheets
Waiting for your lease to end before Sunday does.
The ground is gone on Mondays, the sidewalk on Sydney street has crumbled
I feel first-trimester-morning-sick
And the sky is dinosaur-ending dark, thick with resentment.
On Tuesdays I dream of moon-soaked swims among bay-big moons
Silver saucered jellyfish that ripple through our hands
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 8:52 PM UTC
Skills developed from scholars who studied KABALA.
This testimony is lonely.
As I let loose of this nonlinear noose.
I have pressing matters to attend to.
This all done accordingly.
LEAP years are boring to me.
The future talks to me because the present is ignoring me.
Poetry lost under a blue moon but I never left you.
I always came back with something special.
The poetry they all created was uncultivated
thus foolish and basic
generated only to satisfy selfish cravings.
I call it Human contemplation.
In contrast to this magik.
My convoluted interaction.
The clarity of singularity.
¿¿¿¿ My WORDs will always contain a bit of insanity¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
“I can’t,” she breathed.
“Can’t what?”
“I can’t do this.”
“I don’t understand,” he said, disbelieving. He moved to take her free hand that lay at her side. She drew it away.
“You’re not listening; I can’t do this anymore, any of it. I don’t want to continue on pretending that everything is okay when it isn’t, pretending that you’re okay and that we’re okay when we aren’t,” she said, beginning to sob. “I can’t pretend that things are going to get better when I don’t know that.”
“I am getting better,” he replied, “I’m trying.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I know you do, so why act this way? Why leave when I’m beginning to change? Why go when I am doing this for you, does none of it matter to you?” Kieran cried, “Is there nothing more that I can do to make me what it is that you want?”
“It is exhausting, waiting for you to get back to who you were, to see you struggle the way you do. I can’t watch you try and fail over and over again,” said Briar. “I can’t watch you decay and raise from the ashes only to see that you are what you are born from – that you have not changed at all.”
“Well what then, do you expect me to do it alone?”
“You’ll have to”, she said between tears as she stood. She turned lucidly and walked past the chair where he sat; leaving the television they had been watching to entertain itself. The door creaked as she heaved, and all too quickly, she was gone.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 12:01 PM UTC
I've inhabited the inner industrial walls of my head
ever since I can remember.
Willing to sacrifice trivial pleasure for thought,
potential and significant conversation
was too often dismissed as lo-fi dissonant crosstalk.
There wasn't an abundance of characters
in the confines of my elitist circle,
which was essentially a nonlinear grey area
suppressed and pulled back out
from time to time for self-evaluation.
I was far too conscious of new-fangled opinions
and young judgment.
Because so little of what I did wasn't preemptive,
even the yellow and orange playground equipment
was compromised,
which was honestly never to inviting.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 2:38 AM UTC
I was so mad
I forgot to be all my sad
survival gremlins work fast
packed most of it up
behind my back
stowed it in the attic
in a dust-draped corner
next to a heap of tangled wires
and a vintage Smith Corona
and now I see
your name permanent, on repeat
a cardboard Sharpie-scrawled
nonlinear timeline
stacked precarious
I keep questioning
why I'm up here
when I crack boxes
they siphon me in
to a grip of whys and ifs
that pin me horizontal
I think I like it
when they topple
pointy perpendicular assault
trying to impale inside
and paper cut
so pulpy marrow
can pry its way back
into my hollow bones
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 10:19 AM UTC
I’m lost
And need help
I don’t know what for
By myself
You enter
By the door
So confused
Can’t take this anymore
So profuse
My heart
Beats and soar
In an ocean
Wrecking our floor
You hold me
Your embrace
Brace yourself
In time nonlinear
A spectrum unclear
I’m lost
So it’s okay
For I’ll see you
Another day
Dec 26, 2022
Dec 26, 2022 at 10:43 PM UTC
Sitting
still,
abiding
by guidelines
that exist
solely
to straighten
the frayed edges
of bent societies
that gaze
at carbon skies,
witnessing
light
reflect
into light,
reflecting
into light,
multiplied
by numbers
only molecules
and wavelengths
themselves
could fathom;
northern lights
in southern skies.
Man
manufacturing hope,
a nonlinear
product
for each
and every
demographic.
The ultimate sales ploy.
It’s easy to stray from topics
when every topic includes another,
colonies coinciding within others,
biomes, environments, cultures,
cells, organs, organisms,
inclusive to any wishing to reside and migrate to,
a collage of lives shaped by the hands of gods,
soft thoughts are easiest to mold.
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 11:49 PM UTC
what a game being played
I feel the strings
not yet fine tuned to my soul
stretching
they want to be taut
to be taught
to step away
from hurt, loss, happiness
none of it is mine
I am separate.
outside of this experience
there is laughter to be had.
of course there are feelings to feel
and things blockading my clear canvas but
outside of this
there is time to learn
things to teach
there is wisdom to be taut
so the events of nonlinear, wavy days
can pass, as it all must.
greater opportunity
to uncover the self and harness
the only distinct power that one has.
nothing
is forever.
but it happened and there is time
to make it all happen.
understand it will never happen
that way
again.
we are all going.
I don't want to be left behind and I don't want
to leave anything behind.
we are all alone.
but that doesn't have to hurt us
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 12:00 PM UTC
So many radical minds
leaving their prints on the glass of time
manipulating the rules of aestiticts
infinity now ruled by natural synthetics
catasrophhy
that minds aren't equipped
to fathom the elasticity of
nonlinear lifetimes
untethered from the lifelines that loop forever those loopy eyes
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 2:03 AM UTC
Necro night, obsessive polish...
smooth as a piano's torso.
A man profanes the vested
interests of his body with starry
eyeshot.
Stuffing the pig of non being
with a star's nonlinear light.
The rapid fire vexations of a
king invade him, unspecified
bidding must be carried out.
He sees the world scurry,
sevitude's hand and foot--the
glutted pig of his non being
belches tremulously.
The horror of full emptiness
drives him from star to star, his
subjects multiply to appease
the royal malcontent.
He tears into curses cast at God,
the king blacks out.
The night sits encased in a man's
room, ants of darkness crawl on
him...he lets out a sigh...then begs
sleep.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 1:49 PM UTC
When you look to the pretty lights in the sky
You'll see all the reds, oranges, yellows, and blues
Galaxies spread out, floating
A spinning waltz, coordinated, gravitational
Nonlinear on strings, time infinite
Wish upon all those stars
Colors I can't even see
Let them have their partners
Relationships into themselves
Numbers stretch patterned lines
See much further than the naked eye
Colors don't matter, neither their cries
Epic majestic, eternal blending
Shifting skies, beaches, oceans
On alien planets, in our skies
Count the stars and their parts
Every particle, piece, elemental tie
Look much further, with your ears
A musical hum, RF bending tie
Circling waves, scattering dashes
Invisible stories, forever
Building rhythm, spicing the waltz
Taste true love, sweetest
Thirst, hunger, and peace
Encompass emotion
Eclipsed release
Hold back the awe
Utilitarian focus, belief
See time complete
This is
I love you,
three worlds
Incompletely
But neat
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
The wicked night, a storm
On its way, you can taste it in the air
Not quite a humidity,
It's lighter than heavy
Almost a smell, but taste
I have to think to myself
What can I do, what have I done?
Patterns overlap, circles within circles
Remember details, collect the clues
Did I say this, did I look like that?
Maybe I agreed too quickly
Or it's not me at all
Moods are strange things
Arranged from the nonlinear
Chaotic patterns, too big to see
I see the change, chance to shine
A disappointment dominos
Retreat and hide, deny and find
I know the challenge is great
A hardship to develop
Breaking comfortable patterns
But that were hurtful, faulty; cling
If your dreams are big, your day is long
Much that is wanted, may be found
Her need is great; hold her close
Comfort her want, find peace, please
Right now, she still shines
Inner glow, it smolders
Mirrors all broken
I only want her happy
Heavy years are like chains
Drooping shoulders, neck and head
Rub the stress from her shoulders
Gently thumb precious neck
Work hands deep
Stretch muscles, calming effect
Oil her down, bring smile with scent
Tease worry from wary, bring her sleepy
Comb her hair, long beauty
Not make her sweaty
Heavy eyes, close gently
Relax, my Love
I promised, I vowed
Anything I can do
I will make sure
I can carry
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC
tongues tumble things together until there is a stream,
sewn like a river,
so fluid it rushes in movements,
nonlinear, random waves, curving 'round bends and bays.
_gizaagi'igoo - all of us love you_
that was probably the string of sounds that stuck with me most.
Nov 16, 2023
Nov 16, 2023 at 5:19 PM UTC
The depth, width and breadth
Of all nonlinear dimensions
Are exceedingly less quantifiable
Than the imminent direction of your breath
When its projected back through space
I seek wholeness in the hidden chambers of your breast
And find music in your laughter's gentleness
We have outdated attitudes framed upon our walls
And old hallways that echo with the altitude of our confusion
A cornucopia of consciousness and desire
With a smile that lingers like a fire
She inspires my heart to break free
Of silly people’s strategies
We are bleeding underneath our sleeves
With skin and teeth ready to bite
We are all getting high tonight
Higher than the azure sky
Reflected in another pair of eyes
And more blinding than the Sun
Can you tell me who is the one
Who knows your name
When we retreat into our cave
Darling don’t get enraged
We are all slaves to her grace
While you play this game or that one
It doesn’t matter that much anyway
Since you’ve come all this way
You might just as well
Try to never be the same again
Jul 8, 2019
Jul 8, 2019 at 8:27 PM UTC