"orchestrating" poems
Speak
When you speak I see cascades of life.
Life and light tend to look the same.
Your light is turquoise and the color of jade sitting just beneath the surface of choppy water.
When you speak I feel heat.
You have yet to burn me.
You are the steady warmth of new born embers of a fire
yet to blaze. When you speak I smell salt water.
Even with a sting, you’re the most refreshing thing.
The ocean is not as paradoxical as your passionately
calm surface. When you speak I taste loneliness.
Bitter sweet like underripe tangerines.
I cannot know this beautiful mind of yours without encountering cold, rusty, metal walls
When you speak I hear midnight.
You know how to play the silences.
I hold my breath waiting for the next sentence you’re carefully, mysteriously orchestrating. Whisper or shout
speak to me againHole in my heart
Speak Karijinbba Beloved!
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 1:51 PM UTC
─illustrations on the ceiling
i love the way
the sunlight ripples along his skin
with no complaints
"messiah" the shadow talks
"of course he is" i reply
and i resume to orchestrating my love
─little phobias
i wander aimlessly along his windows,
his eyes;
they are gates to afterlives unloved;
they are oceanic shrapnel
sky imprisoned infinities
a lapis point of view-
that i treasure
his heart is drenched
in my soul-
in a sweeter sickness-
in the liquid measure of my steps-
he mentions i'm contagious
i tell him he is my favorite way
to bleed
"september prodigy" the shadow babbles
"why?" i rasp
**"sun at long last
kisses away
all the ghosts
harvesting from
the heart of the moon"**
and i broke out into stars
─my serendipity
i love the raw
music of our conversations,
and how his voice
undresses me
and my monsters
so delicately
in fabrics of the dark
i love how his laugh
makes all the other planets
look dull;
how his smile
is the first step
to curing the blind
so the blind may know
what i know
"the symphony of seams"
i love how he is the shocking
philosophy
of turning suicide notes
into paper cranes
of picking fights with death
so i may remain
i love the phoenix tucked in his soul
how it defines-
the altitudes-
the limits-
our existence he describes to me
"reincarnation?" the shadow asks
"every morning he wonders" i answer
and the fever invests it's time in me
"what is he to you?" the shadow murmurs
"*besides broken flowers,
and ink blots shaped like rain
he is my favorite stairway to heaven.*"
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 10:32 PM UTC
punto / contrappunto (patty m /nat)
(on the why of messaging, on the Underground HP)
none can fly, all can fly
except in words, in deeds, indeed,
yet others turn those who believe turn
lead into gold, golden faerie dreams real,
penciled in the salvation hints inked upon the skin
of the host, the blessing are the blessings of the host,
of solving great puzzles. deeds of salvation solutions.
Yet unbeknownst for many. known to all
its jiggling all the quarks, the clashing of the neutrons
spinning electrons that within all of our protein protons
affect many, effected upon each,
invisible all is hidden. where all was hidden, now visible
the message that isn't let our acts speak ever louder
transmitted, realized,
holds no power, yet it a time for action
remains a black screen for each message, now an action
in the catacombs in the clarity of daylight
waiting, waiting there, no longer waiting,
millions of little pieces each action a deed
when finally viewed the summation total
grows gargantuan
funneling radiation
from the sun.
Climbing roofs, to the streets leaping
sliding down drainpipes knocking to open all doors
to the street, filling the stadiums & squares
I'll wait with you, no laggards, all in attendence
**they will come,
poet after poet,
spreading the word,
words to deeds, each of us
a messenger and a conductor,
orchestrating the symphony
of revelation.**
Patty m. Nat
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 11:50 AM UTC
Her touch, a crescendo, our bodies harmonizing, sound journey.
Heartstrings vibrating in tune, passion bringing, sound journey.
Empty concert hall, without her, echoes in the void.
Mind's dulcimer weaves memories, drifting, sound journey.
Like two violins our bodies now begin a sweet duet.
Our passion a crescendo forever building, sound journey
Fingers tracing landscapes of desire, soft curves exploring.
Our breath, a soft flute, seeks the hidden embers burning, sound journey
Her body a living instrument, vibrations of pure sound.
Powerless, I must follow the maestro's commanding, sound journey
Like a master perfumer, our love's fragrance ages gracefully.
Chords of vintage cello bowing passion, resonating, sound journey
Her lips, a harp's lush glissando, heartbeats suspended.
A honeyed kiss, notes lingering; in silence orchestrating, sound journey
On celestial strings; notes drift in the cosmos; starlight whispers.
Our souls forever stardust on windstrings, meditating, sound journey.
In Gaia's Soothing Haven, our hearts forever on love’s journey.
Notes of desire linger softly, sonnets drift on our sighs.
Jan 14, 2025
Jan 14, 2025 at 5:59 PM UTC
She laid there in her galaxy cloak
transcending light and time
transgressive
***** secrets
whispered in his ear
"I just want to supernova"
So he holds back
until she moans out
a celestial symphony
Her o face vibrato
wire tapping hidden energy
Conducting all the right spots
Orchestrating chemistry
enlightened
like lusting galaxies
Descending the electric bodies
Straight from the Goddess' machinery
Where souls go to
come back around together
Until we're all light again
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 11:07 PM UTC
<•>
too oft, so oft, the absence, the imagining, that
no such comfort exists, that remorse may n'ere complete its course,
when a time for love is beyond beyond, is a bridge too far,
a notion so fraught, a vision unwrought, that we do not
recognize the why and the wherefore to step forward
even for for the next breath small, the in of inconsolability,
a deeper welling
so consequential there is no seeing a piercing light
*then come to me, come to me then, when words can be
a symphony of violins, an orchestrating examination of
thy wounded chest, and caressing slow repetition
deep moaning, understanding waves upon the shores of my arms, my shoulder, my chest, any piece that can be yours,
a shoreline of relief, and listen with great care as the subtleties change, the pastoral comes in an ever ascending
crescendo of lifting, a stabbing, resurrecting but not fully repairing,
restoring but replacing sensation, for inconsolability is a disease
difficult to defeat, deserving of being memory-recalled,
but the ability, the cure, the rhyme of
hope and upward slope of open eyes will penetrate surely as the potion of the music of my words lay you down and rise you up,
and that is enough, to begin the renewal,
the campaign of commencement, the possibility of clarity,
it is the journey,*
***the changeling we call the
destiny of our designation,
which is forever the next destination***
9/17/17
7:20am
<•>
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 7:39 AM UTC
Hovering, its gentle, gleam a'glitter,
Sun rays hugging so daintily the plains of grass
That it could have been akin to quiet coveting
Of their transient green so far from its grasp
Then, as if in secret rising from the earth's coat,
From blades made chartreuse with sunset's caress,
There lifts a drunken, blanketed quiet that fill-
In preparation for the night- the land's every crevasse
Upon the branches arching, merging, enweaving,
Where the last few robins had been orchestrating,
The leaves give their tiny bodies up to the fading breeze;
A waltz so natural both need not bother hesitant contemplating
In dappling, splotching, sparks of amber scintillating a hue,
The trees too the sun embraces; the shades of sunlight
Creating a calico on its surface, still dull greens and greys amidst
Its autumn forgery, aureate bleeding bright
Nocturnal symphonies crescendo in harmonic chirps, croaks, and hoots;
As sunlight spools it's last golden threads to defy it's cruel god or master,
Who reigns, an even more kingly victory, wins last of battles, drags the sun down
To horizon's prison- subterranean capture.
Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 11:52 AM UTC
You're the leader in our circus.
She the lion tamer,
I the dancer.
At your call she sends the lions in action.
At your call, I let them come.
I take the attacks for foolish action-
I take it all for you.
We do this waltz of love and hate-
Life and death.
I stood in the ring to take them on.
The Lions and their Tamer.
I took them on as you watched us Tango.
Orchestrating the tension and the hate.
Pinning all on me for the sake of your show.
The Ring Master.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 12:20 AM UTC
"You're gonna die ******* laugh" ~ Hasan Minhaj Homecoming King
Laugh you ******
At least this is what I think when I'm trying to get someone to laugh
We all die its gonna happen
Whether you die today or die tomorrow
LAUGH
Don't force it either it has been proven that forcing laughter
Is actually unhealthy for you
I'm not really sure how it works If it stacks up or not
LAUGH
Maybe I'd just have to find out but I also remember
That I've been twisting and pinning my laughter up at the edges
I've been orchestrating the downfall of my vocal chords for so long
LAUGH
There is not a more convincing sound in the world but my laugh
Two things woven together seamlessly
False and true have blended into a new vocal sound for maybe
Maybe its Maybelline
Maybe its sadness and happiness
Twirling each other around on the dance floor
LAUGH
Just laugh today alright?
Take a breath for just a second
And try to remember the warmth of being content and ok
Or if you're eating french fries
Take two and tuck them under your upper lip
Go look in the mirror cause now you're a walrus
And remember.
You're gonna ******* die and time runs through your laughs
So laugh while you still can
And not giggling from your grave cause no one can hear you
LAUGH
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 2:35 AM UTC
the shards of my shattered blood line
piercing into my lungs
tearing it open
letting me bleed my sadness out.
i bleed slowly;
i bleed,
i bleed.
your vibrant persona is too much for me to handle,
it feels choking at times.
but nonetheless i am attracted
like a moth to a flame.
i know it is dangerous,
i know it will only end in my execution,
but i go in anyway
orchestrating my own death.
i plummet into your aura,
i take it in.
and a small part of me believes
that you even had the smallest inch of care for me.
but you don't.
it's someone else it always is.
it's always the 'it's not you it's me' crap;
or the 'i don't feel the same' torture.
nonetheless it breaks me,
and i break in silence.
the saddest part is i thought i had a chance with you.
joker.
what a joke.
it can't happen,
it will never happen.
and that is all there is for me.
there is no yes or inbetween.
it is always no,
a resounding no.
but it's not your fault.
i know i am an ogre,
a monster with two minuscule eyes,
with my pores oozing acid,
and my mouth spewing fire.
my fiery temper restricts all suitors,
i know i cannot be tamed.
maybe that is why.
i am boundless and limitless and that may be intimidating.
but
but i am human,
and every human has that one boundary and
that one
limitation.
that was meant to be you,
meant to be you for me.
but you have someone else,
someone prettier and better.
so be happy, because that's all i want;
but for now,
i bleed slowly;
i bleed,
i bleed.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 4:51 AM UTC
When my mind is
vacant and empty,
I can sense the Lord
Orchestrating beauty
From the heart of the void.
Tranquility of a still morning
Is worth more to me
Than everything and more.
Compared to the stress
Of the speeding world.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 8:17 AM UTC
Clinging to gnarled branches
Timeless observer of time's
Passing
You sway through breezes and revolutions
Directing humanity's passage
Orchestrating
There our prayers and air feed you
A hint of sea salt to spice your tasting
Of our adventures and chaos
You, drape and linger
Delicate as a lover's kiss
With nothing but a wisp holding you
To lofty vantages
Observing us, coy and frantic
Your slight presence fans our dreams
While winter winds stirs embers and lovers stroll
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
The yonder above is forever bruised and opaque
Reigning over glum faces
Complexions washed with a bloodless shade of dispassion
Robotic, disengaged.
Material desires are quenched with vast shopping centres
Credit Cards hold on for dear live
As every last drop of sweet money is rinsed from that plastic rectangle.
Living beyond our means
Whilst simultaneously refusing to give up on Sky TV box sets and liquid lunches.
Hooked to our phones, but not for telephone communication
Rather, for self validation
Defined by the click of a heart or pathetic thumb.
The once friendly communities
With blood coursing through their veins
Are husks of their previous life form, gentrified beyond recognition.
Filtered faces with protruding spines and modified features
Infiltrate mass media
Corrupting the definitions of success and beauty.
Plastic personalities reign supreme
Vacuous minded socialites profess women’s empowerment begins with the flaunting of skin
Rather than the possession of a strong mind.
Many bury their heads in the sand
Residing in ignorance
As mass genocides and civil wars manifest every second.
Or worse, they read the TORYgraph and THE ****
Believing immigrants spawn white genocide
And white conservatives suffer oppression.
Pffft!
I have deep contempt for those behind these ***** tabloids
Murdoch and his monsters
Orchestrating lies and bile
Destroying lives or scaremongering the impressionable
Committing the most savage, sycophantic crimes
In order to extract Monday’s headline.
I do not suffer fools
Especially those who make up the tapestry of dystopia
A failing age of doom.
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 12:00 PM UTC
a scream of fusses in rustic reflections -- off again, forcing trust is a silent revolution for us. no blades with this parade; grasp hot coals without blinking and YES i am on top of the world. NO i can't feel a thing. Was it the destruction of senses that bordered our hesitance? Blank pages won't fade away with this operation. only collect dust. And i remembered to close this mouth. Eye contact at a minimum. Contradictions lead to continuous disagreement. i feel it even when your voice reverberates though this mind of mine, no real sounds, piles of old junk mail and fast food wrappers left to dye in the open sunlight. weren't we prepared for a battle? Fists up, intellect down. We have reports of a beast-infected stand-still. Plots to **** I keep my sketches in my pockets, next to packets of mild sauce and cigarette butts. Mistaken for less dangerous, but let's face the music while it still plays for us. Limited is what we have become. Pushing thoughts like empty strollers over bridges and ignoring the collision and the crowds that keep forming. oblivious, but not really... considering we chose this catastrophe. Drawing lines over famous portraits, orchestrating every moment. No regrets, no remorse. Broken bones and stolen show times. As we disguise our characters and dress them under fine white linen, we count the lines. we count the circles. we prepare for the unbroken. replacements are cheaper and easier to find. hollow, determined, violent. place fingertips on pointed objects and close those heavy eyelids. this is the ending. this is the awakening. this is what you wanted.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
TENOR:
My love!
My first bassoon!
The one - who taught me loves sweet tune!
{DRUMS}
GONE! GONE! - GONE! GONE!
TENOR:**
My love!
My sweet La Lune!
She came - and then was lost so soon!
{DRUMS}
GONE! GONE! - GONE! GONE!
SOPRANO:
My love!
My great Maestro!
The one - who taught me all I know!
TENOR:
Why?
Why did she go?
Why did she - L..E..A..V..E... - M..E?
{DRUMS}
GONE! GONE! - GONE! GONE!
BARITONE:
My sweet La Lune! - She plays her tune
Upon a shiny new bassoon!
My sweet La Lune! - She plays for me
Oh such ****** symphony!
{BRASS}
OOM PAH PAH! - OOM PAH PAH!
TENOR:
What's this?
I spy La Lune?
Blowing bassoon - a new c-o-n-d-u-c-t-o-r?
His baton -
She's sat upon!
It seems she's found - a new i-n-s-t-r-u-c-t-o-r!
{DRUMS}
GONE! GONE! - GONE! GONE!
SOPRANO:
My love!
My new found love!
How I adore - your o-r-c-h-e-s-t-r-a-t-i-o-n!
And with -
Your dextrous hands -
You fill me with - a-n-t-i-c-i-p-a-t-i-o-n!
BARITONE:
My love!
My new found love!
You light me up - a shining c-a-n-d-l-e!
And with -
Your dextrous lips -
My baton loves - to feel your H-A-N-D-E-L!
{BRASS}
OOM PAH PAH! - OOM PAH PAH!
TENOR:
The end!
The end is nigh!
And they must die! - There's no denying!
But how -
To pay them back?
For they deceived - me with there l-y-i-n-g!
CHORUS:
The end!
The end is nigh!
And they must die! - There's no denying!
TENOR:
Upon my word - I will make them pay!
Upon my word - they will die THIS DAY!
{TRIANGLE}
TING!
{CURTAINS CLOSE - END OF ACT 1}
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 7:29 AM UTC
On this night of unconquerable depth --
I ***** cross-legged
Limbs zig-zag lightning
Headphones stream anthems
Mutations orchestrating the lip
Ears muffled by cacophony
Flounders my voice, quietly
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
A hatred fiend,
Playacting a votary
Of democracy and federalism
To a gluttonous end,
“Unless we grip
The rein of power
Driving a divisive wedge
Along religious and
Ethnic lines, also
Orchestrating terror
Every hour,
See to every evil
We shall
Till the wind of change
Blowing over the nation
Suffers reversal.”
“On the world-acclaimed
Change drive
We shall inflict
Every possible harm
So that flouted it runs
Out of charm!
Using a Facebook army
On par with Tsunami
We shall trigger
And foment conflicts
And make
This and that ethnic groups
Arch enemy.
Slaying toddlers,
Senior citizens
And women, with
The bun in the oven,
Shock we shall
Create often!”
"Also with
'We are victims' clamor
Seeking for a stalemate,
Global-pity a door
We intend to continue
A victor.
To deflect attention
From a government-junta
Crackdown
To neighboring country’s town
Firing rockets far
Dragging it into war
We shall internationalize
The fight
Conveying our diabolic move
Is right!
Though unheard of in history
We shall splice
In unholy marriage
With any enemy
Of the country.
Also from its back
The national defense force,
Guarding the boundary
And us
Its forehead
In the crosshair mark,
Revoltingly
We shall attack!
Though this makes us
Selfish, our ethnic
Groups we shall use
As a human shield
A daunting influence
On citizens-cherishing
Government to wield."////
Nov 17, 2020
Nov 17, 2020 at 8:07 AM UTC
I am disgusted with the idea of doomsday/pralay/qayamat.
They just don't seem to learn that doomsday can't be brought by anyone other than the human species itself.
There is no invisible hand in the sky orchestrating this complex biological and physicochemical existence in this world.
We were just created by mother nature and now we are orphans since a long time.
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 12:43 AM UTC
I never said forever,
Nor did I think that was the time frame
In which you'd leave my life.
I found losing you is such a shame.
I never said disappear
Completely, dissipate into thin air.
I didn't think you would honestly,
But it was no surprise, rather it was fair.
We suffer consequences from actions
Consistently, all the time,
And I just didn't realize
Losing you would be mine.
I never said that I'd miss you.
I never even really said good bye.
I never said I wish you the best,
I never said I'm sorry for orchestrating lies.
I never said my apologies for
Creating a web of false hope
That trapped you, and now that you're free
I don't really know how to cope.
I never said how much you meant
To me, or how much I really care.
I never said any of it and it'll remain so,
My lungs never made those thoughts into air.
I never said a lot that pertained
To how important you were
And maybe still are. I'm sorry,
Of only that I am sure.
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 6:26 PM UTC
speak easies and sunsets
the rip roaring tide
of each season
plucked from
a particular
map of heart
a wilted plant
brought to
fruition
through
journies posted
reconciled and branded
out of their
terrain of gloom
with terrain too soon
the hardy way
of blues
‘infidel rider
of the box car
whiskey sunrise
alarm clock for BBC
snowy icy white lot
sky feasting
on schizoids
orchestrating
the busses
the pistols
silenced
and silent
the train
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 5:44 AM UTC
Journey of a poetic soul
Of which continues to grow
New words he will craft
Loving touches of poetic art
Openly expressed to all
Now, and forever, standing tall
Driven by motivation for poetry
Orchestrating words for us to see
Near those friends he cherishes
Jul 28, 2010
Jul 28, 2010 at 5:27 AM UTC
Your fingers swept
Delicately grasping
The Heartstrings
I never knew existed
The Heartstrings
I thought were split
After so much trauma
After so much agony
As of current
The string are now
Between your fingertips
You tugged
You played
Mildly, wildly
Orchestrating
As you pleased
with much caution
Allowing them
To stay intact
And not snap
Regardless of
How suddenly you found
my Heartstrings I lost
I trusted you to play
The same way
You trusted me to stay
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC